Post by Raeia Triune on Sept 7, 2011 18:26:38 GMT -5
picture:;[/b][/size]
playby[/color]:;[/b][/size]
Lucero,
Sid[/center][/size][/color]theme song[/color]:;[/b][/size]
One Step Closer
by Linkin Park[/center][/size]description:;[/b][/size]
Raeia, the orphaned werebeast of Palawan, has a top crowned with the natural hair color of his people. Thick but soft, wavy, and always cut short. His wild, obsidian-black mane often flows at different direction adding to the rugged look he unintentionally display. As if warranting to add more misplaced virility to his looks, his hair is dry to the touch; somewhat similar to the sand parched by the hot rays of the father sun.
Embellishing his masculine face are red, full lips and a well-chiseled nose. Though a shade lighter than his hair, the pupils of his round eyes are adorned by a seeming black ball of coal. Protected by a pair of slight bushy eyebrows and dark eye lids, these balls of sight seem to sparkle in the light.
His tan complexion covers a body frame that is far from skinny but is not too big. Given his shapely muscles on both arms and body, it is evident that he either did some lifting or hard labor akin to construction.
Embellishing his masculine face are red, full lips and a well-chiseled nose. Though a shade lighter than his hair, the pupils of his round eyes are adorned by a seeming black ball of coal. Protected by a pair of slight bushy eyebrows and dark eye lids, these balls of sight seem to sparkle in the light.
His tan complexion covers a body frame that is far from skinny but is not too big. Given his shapely muscles on both arms and body, it is evident that he either did some lifting or hard labor akin to construction.
[/blockquote]
name:;[/b][/size]
Triune, Raeia Cruz
[/color][/center]age[/color]:;[/b][/size]
sweet 27
gender[/color]:;[/b][/size]
M ale
race[/color]:;[/b][/size]
born a, Werebeast
should we put bricks on your head?[/color]:;[/b][/size]
RAEIA is, 5’11” tall.
no place like home[/color]:;[/b][/size]
Palawan, Philippines
getting lucky with ~someone~[/color]:;[/b][/size]
Straight
babies coming?[/color]:;[/b][/size]
MARRIED? N
[/blockquote]
Amplify Emotions – Level one
Detect Invisibility
Sixth Sense
Stealth
weapon(s)[/color]:;[/b][/size]
In his accessories, the closest to a weapon he can get is his swiss army knife and a normal paper cutter. Other than those, he doesn’t have any.
whatcha~wearin?[/color]:;[/b][/size]
Being always on the go, Raeia consistently bring with him his mountaineering backpack. In it he carries his casual wears: two pairs of loose, rugged jeans (one is black and the other a dark blue), a thick black jacket, numerous tees and few pairs of comfortable cotton shorts.
Raeia is not one who loves blings and accessories. Even when he hang out and go to bars, rare (if not never) does one see him wear jewelries.
Raeia is not one who loves blings and accessories. Even when he hang out and go to bars, rare (if not never) does one see him wear jewelries.
transportation [/color]:;[/b][/size]
Raeia doesn’t own a vehicle. He commutes from one place to another.
anything.else.you'd.like.to.share?[/color]:;[/b][/size]
N/A
[/blockquote]
disposition to the law[/color]:;[/b][/size]
NEUTRAL
alignment[/color]:;[/b][/size]
NEUTRAL
likes[/color]:;[/b][/size]
Forests
,Heights
, Music bars
,Live bands
, Blades (knives and swords)
dislikes[/color]:;[/b][/size]
Fire
,Guns
,Closed spaces
phobias[/color]:;[/b][/size]
Agoraphobia
obsessions[/color]:;[/b][/size]
Conspiracies
[/blockquote]
background[/color]:;[/b][/size]
Twelve years have passed since the day an onslaught, a brutal massacre happened at a mountainous island of an Asian continent. The town, the village destroyed. Houses plundered and burned to ashes, locals raped, tortured and killed. None but a few escapees survived the horror. Far from comfort and safety, each one of them feared for their own life and not even one told tales of their escape to anybody. For they were survivors of the dreaded pack. The survivors from a village that was rumored to be the home of the frightening werebeasts.
Revisiting the past, the village was situated miles and miles away from the nearest city and in the middle of a lush, green forest. Many explorers, missionaries and dubious people came and went. Each carrying tales of their own and some lies were added to the benefit of the storyteller. Of these stories, only a handful were true but most believed the worst of lies.
The town was not a den of werebeast, in fact there were only few of the locals that worship Locutus. But yes, there were small families of werebeasts living there amidst the normal people. They lived, breathe and ate alongside each other and never was there trouble between the two different race. They helped one another in their own way. Regardless their differences everyone was accepted and treated as an integral part of their community. However their peaceful lives went down the drain as a group of skilled mercenaries, expert hunters of the occult, came and started the slaughter. Many innocent men were killed, almost everyone killed. For the few remaining survivors, it was one scar in their lives they will never forget. Though there were men of inhuman strength in the village, blessed by whomever god they praise, the hunters outnumber them by an estimate of six to one. In an orchestra of clashing steel and horrifying shrieks and shouts, a gloomy dance of blood and death fell on the inopportune city and ended with a starry, flame-lit night sky and looming laughters of the oppressors.
Unfair to some as it may sound, Raeia, one of two teenagers that escaped, was fortunate to survive that day. His parents dead and with no one to turn to but himself and the god he worshiped... he willed himself to survive. The days passed by slowly and a week turned to months. With nothing but himself, nature, and his god, he was left with no other choice but master his natural skills and werebeast power to survive the harsh wild and escape his pursuers. Though it took him many more years before he fully grasped the art of their race, his knowledge at that time was sufficient as he lived long enough to be saved by another group of missionaries wandering the forest.
Revisiting the past, the village was situated miles and miles away from the nearest city and in the middle of a lush, green forest. Many explorers, missionaries and dubious people came and went. Each carrying tales of their own and some lies were added to the benefit of the storyteller. Of these stories, only a handful were true but most believed the worst of lies.
The town was not a den of werebeast, in fact there were only few of the locals that worship Locutus. But yes, there were small families of werebeasts living there amidst the normal people. They lived, breathe and ate alongside each other and never was there trouble between the two different race. They helped one another in their own way. Regardless their differences everyone was accepted and treated as an integral part of their community. However their peaceful lives went down the drain as a group of skilled mercenaries, expert hunters of the occult, came and started the slaughter. Many innocent men were killed, almost everyone killed. For the few remaining survivors, it was one scar in their lives they will never forget. Though there were men of inhuman strength in the village, blessed by whomever god they praise, the hunters outnumber them by an estimate of six to one. In an orchestra of clashing steel and horrifying shrieks and shouts, a gloomy dance of blood and death fell on the inopportune city and ended with a starry, flame-lit night sky and looming laughters of the oppressors.
Unfair to some as it may sound, Raeia, one of two teenagers that escaped, was fortunate to survive that day. His parents dead and with no one to turn to but himself and the god he worshiped... he willed himself to survive. The days passed by slowly and a week turned to months. With nothing but himself, nature, and his god, he was left with no other choice but master his natural skills and werebeast power to survive the harsh wild and escape his pursuers. Though it took him many more years before he fully grasped the art of their race, his knowledge at that time was sufficient as he lived long enough to be saved by another group of missionaries wandering the forest.
