Post by tylarxavier on Jul 31, 2009 13:45:35 GMT -5
idon'tcareaboutclever,idon'tcareaboutfunny
TylarVinceXavier
bonjour, my name is Mike. i've got 17
tracks spinning on my record. i've got serious skill 'cause i've been roleplaying for 2 and i live in the Pacific timezone.
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iwantloadsofclothesandfuckloadsofdiamonds
name , Tylar Vince Xavier
nicknames , Ty
age & date of birth , March 12th, 1900
gender , male
sexual orientation , heterosexual
played by , Josh Hartnett
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ihearpeoplediewhiletryingtofindthem
height , 5 ft 11 inches
weight , 178 lbs
tattoos and piercings , One tattoo that he got just after the Second World War, its of his own dog tag which was placed on his back.
distinguishing features , He has squinty eyes, this was possibly due to the flashes he'd gotten while in field. Most of the reason he can't open them fully is because of the flashes, the strobe like fashion that he'd become used to while in trenches.
physical flaws , Sometimes Tylar gets momentary lock ups in his arms, a lot of his flaws come from the wars. He suffers from mild aligator arms because of shoveling the trenches and working in the field. His muscles had taken a pretty big toll from that even when he was turned into a vampire.
personal style , Tylar was born in an oldtime England, so he morely likes to dress up in suits rather than have to follow a new trend every hundred years. He prefers suits to most casual clothing mostly because if he were to have to go somewhere he'd be dressed accordingly to do so.
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life'saboutfilmstarsandlessaboutmothers
likes ,
- Jogging
- Drinking
- Hunting
- Picturing the sun
- Vampires
- Stories about the times of old
- Old paintings
- The arts
dislikes ,
- Wolves
- Germans, Russians, and Austrians (Not a racist dislike, a general dislike)
- Racisim
- Casual - Modern clothing
- England (surprisingly)
- France (Unsurprisingly)
- Speaking about the past
- Complainers
strengths ,
- Intelligent
- Rash (Strength and Weakness)
- Puts trust in no one
- Strong to his own degree
- Risk taker
weaknesses ,
- Rash
- Bold
- Stubbern
- Sometimes rude without knowing it
- Gives too much advice
- Sometimes a little cocky
fears ,
- Sun
- Fire
- Priests (Odd yes)
- Germans
- Loneliness
- Flashbacks
overall personality , Tylar is a man of two faces, not the two faces as in he'll turn on you but the the way his personality takes control of him. On one side, there is the calm and quiet Tylar who'll pass by and not bother to say a word. That personality he looks at as the 'good' or 'better' side of himself, the one that dosn't constantly throw him into trouble. He found good ways to keep that one in check, to keep himself from turning into a complete asshole. Then again, his personality changes with a swing of a pendulum.
His other side isn't so concealing, mostly just bold and stubbern. Tylar could be nice, but if he's feeling a little down on the day, its mostly this side that takes over. He developed this during the year 1918, where he mostly just gave up on being nice since the entire world was still feeling a little bit of sting. At that time he had been a drunken idiot, partying in Britian's lower areas, which is where he first began to develope a new feeling - hate. His experiances and stories had formed him into a borderline racist, then again it wasn't hard to tell that he would become one from what he'd seen and done. Though, even on his moody days, Tylar wouldn't do something to offend another race or say something to do that either, he just strays away from that crowd all together.
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it'sallaboutfastcarsandcussingeachother
hometown , London, England
father , Deceased - Butcher
mother , Deceased - Nurse
siblings , Deceased - Soldier
pets , N.A
history , Tylar's past is framed with sadness but some key features that changed him, and the way he outlooks life in total. One hundred and nine years is a lot of story to cover so I'll be as brief and unpainful as possible. Tylar wasn't the most effecient young boy around, nor was he the most polite. Times were different back in that day though, and no one had ever thought of an entire world going to war, not then at least. News didn't travel fast either, not then, not in those times. When something as big as war was on the fronts, news papers were the only indulgence that people could get when the furried for war. Though, this year was 1909 and war was only six years away from them. Hell, it wasn't long ago that England had gotten their grasp on Canada from the French, maybe a good sixty to seventy years from then. Times were looking good, and the new world had almost been formed. A new country, something that had pissed off the English for awhile, America had turned their backs on them. This all had been well before Tylar's time, but he understood why everyone was so mad. Tylar was a news paper boy, running the streets and giving out the news as fast as he could, he'd gotten paid for it but it wasn't a very good pay at all.
Little did most of them know, history had been in progress since the 1800's, which ment that it was undeniable that Tylar would have to serve. So began the years, Tylar had aged fanomanaly, and once 1916 rolled around it was time. Tylar had been at the young age of sixteen when war rolled its ugly head, and because he'd been that age at that specific time, he was drafted into the Royal British Military. Serving in the 5th Infantry Division, he would surely fight on the Western Front. Time had a funny way of lieing to you, the whisper in your ear that tomorrow might be your last day, well, Tylar had heard that whisper for a whole year out there in the Western Front. Tylar, and with his oh so genious stroke of luck had been sent to the Somme on Febuary 21st, 1916 where he would appropriately meet his "death". During the flyby's, Tylar had been stuck in a fox hole with a Canadian comrade. It was kind of funny to Tylar that England had dragged its brother counter part Canada into a soul sucking place like Europe. Nearing the end of the Somme, his comrade had been killed and that left Tylar alone.
When the bombs had stopped dropping and the ringing in his ears began to fade Tylar had decided to make his move and emerge from the hole that'd kept him safety. He could have sworn that there was only two squads of men left on the allied, but again luck had not been in favor for Tylar. He'd been sent into the German trenches, to find and try to capture any POWs. Well, upon arriving to the trenches, he and his squad were met with one reluctant German or what they thought to be a German. The squad never stood a chance for what they had saw, a vampire in modern days but back then it could only be described as a 'monster'. That thing had killed his squad and nearly killed him. Tylar had gotten off five shots into the vampire's chest, but still it got back up. Once it finally got to him, it bit him and looked down on him as he began to "die". It said that it gave him strength and that at night he would become something more than a soldier, something stronger. It had also told him of the sun and how he would die if he were to ever see it again.
That was Tylar's last fight, the last war he would ever step into again. Though, that wasn't the last of the wars that he would see, no. For in 1944 he would walk the dead of Normandy and pass on the same thing that his own attacker shared with him, that would be before he went into hiding in the mountains of Romania. Tylar had sought freedom in the night and silence in the bleak existance of humanity and if he were to ever be free, he would have to be hiding... and so he did.
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itdoesn'tmatter'cuzi'mpackingplastic
[/size]password , Brains
roleplay sample ,
There he stood quietly like a mouse with few words to speak, eyes staring at the rustic-looking tavern that he had now come upon. It wasn't unusual for one to find a tavern in the clearing of a thick forest, but to this young wanderer of the dirt roads, it was different. Being smaller in size, meant it would be less crowded, which he hoped...would mean less eyes upon him. Nothing bugged him more than crude words about him spoken behind his back. Approaching the door, his gloved hand reached for the handle and pulls it open. He enters, and immediately, sidestepping out of the way so he could take in the interior before going any further without getting in anyones' way. After a moment of observation and hesitation, he continues on....his muffled steps heard as brown leather boots hit wooden floor.
Though 18 in years, two things kept such a number from being believable. His short stature for one....he stood no higher than 5' 7" or 5'8", and he wasn't sure why he had not gained another inch or two worth since his 14th year of life passed him by. Secondly, his overall appearance...for some unknown reason to him, he was stuck in that same year of his life....bearing quite the youthful appearance, easily told by his face, stilll rather rounded off and soft in appearance, with large eyes that shone like amethyst gemstones even in the dim light of the tavern. Though his eyes always seemed to show kindness, at the moment, they also bore a little fear as they move this way and that, taking in the surrounding patrons and the tavern's details.....all of it so unfamiliar to the young traveller of the lands. Back at home, Lakeland, everyone knew him....he had no issues. Here though, he was a literal outcast or so he assumes.
With more timid steps, the young traveller made way for the first available vacant table he sees. It was small and had room for only two patrons, but it was enough for him, since most of the time, he would be alone. Pulling out the chair he stood beside, he reached back, pulling the dark red cape that flows down his backside, off to his side as he sits down.
not necessarily your best, but your average..
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Where I found you: Google.