Alester Nicx

[alester]

001. NAME• Alester Nicx
002. NICKNAME• Nixx, Nixxie
003. AGE• 21
004. BIRTHDATE• May 17, 1988
005. WHERE YOU LIVE?• Ipswich, Great Britain

001. YOUR FACE• Andy Sixx
002. HAIR• Very spiky, naturally straight, typically black, sometimes color dyed highlights, shoulder length.
003. EYES• Grey
004. HIEGHT• Average height, around 5' 9" when in human, wolf form is about the average small horse
005. WEIGHT• 165 pounds of pure muscle, about 200 pounds of pure wolf
006. BODY MODS• none
007. FASHION/STYLE• Alester wears the typical casual clothing, jeans and boots, tennies, t-shirts, flannels or hoodies, and a nice suit for those occasions that require them.

001. LIKES• Riding his motorcycle everywhere
Riding through the British countryside
Fish and Chips
British Patriotism
Chocolate Biscuits
Computers
Reading books
002. DISLIKES• People who talk too much
Driving slow
Killing people, Murder, Death
Fighting and Argueing
Drunks
People who talk loudly on their cell phones in public
Face Book, My space and other invasions of his privacy
003. FEARS• Changing in public or any form of losing control in public
Not being able to change back after a full moon
Failing a challenge
His death
His wolfish tendencies causing him to act "weird" in public
004. STRENGTHS•
Running, he's fast
Computer skills, he can find anything online
Above average self control except at the moon of course
Survival ability
Literate
005. WEAKNESSES•
Has difficulty with authority
Is a loner, not pack oriented
Prefers solace to crowd
Can be crude and curt, and even arrogant or teasing
The sight of blood might incite him to attack
Feral side often wins out over civility
006. ODDITIES•
Chases cats and mailmen
Has an unnatural interest in Vampyres

Hates the sun, loves the moon
Hates mice they freak him out!
007. ORIENTATION• Hmmm, he's open to both sexes, but it's going to take a lot to get him interested, more than a pretty face from either.
008. SPECIFIC MORALS• Do unto others before they do unto you.
009. PERSONALITY OVERVIEW•
Alester is outgoing, yet he doesn't prefer people's company very much. They tend to bring out the worst in him. He is a loner who enjoy's solitude in the British countryside to the demands of civility. He is fiercely patriotic and loves the United Kingdom often travelling to Scotland or Wales jut to visit. His nature is to roam, and his home/den is his solitude and sanctuary.

He is intelligent, yet his meaner nature often turns people off and make him isolated. He doesn't mind this as it is hard to maintain relationships with humans when you are a werewolf, and you fear to attack them at the next Full moon, and have to hide from them your true self. He also has not met many other of his kind in Great Britain, so he hasn't had a lot of dating potential or close friends.

Alester enjoys reading and riding his Motorcycle, fast. He sometimes charters a boat to Germany just to run the Autobahn. He has the security of being a loyal worker and steady job to support him and he wants for no creature confort. He is not rich, yet he has a savings and trust accounts to draw from if needed. He enjoys living easily and yet comfortably, but is no glutton nor "Label Whore."

Alester enjoys stargazing and the moon, and is a night owl by nature. He despises the hot sun and shuns daylight. His quirky personality is unpredictable and he can be harsh or crass. He is respectful of his elders, yet his playful nature gets in the way at times making him appear rude or uncaring. Another quirk is he is a great cook, and samples many different cuisines. When he is nervous, agitated, angry, etc etc, he cooks. It is his one redeeming quality for those rare visitors who come to his home. He is also very clean, and he likes everything in its place. So his home is neat and orderly.

001. PARENT ONE• Brigadier General Jonathan Weise, deceased, military
002. PARENT TWO• Anna, deceased homemaker and General's wife
003. SIBLINGS• none
004. PETS• none
005. HISTORY OVERVIEW•

Alester is the only son of Brigadier General Jonathan Weise. He dropped his fathers surname and changed the spelling of his middle name to become his surname after his father and mother were killed in a military incident that his Parlaiment could never fully explain. He feared he was their next target and family friends helped him assume his new identity for his own safety. His life was in turmoil and he was only ten. He went to live with friends as he had no immediate family to take him in. His father had sired him late in life and had left him without benefit of grandparents.

He was morose and had wandered into the brush and undergrowth at the retired General's homestead soon after his arrival there. There aren't a lot of wolves on the island, yet there was a pack close to the retreat. Alester was not fortunate as he approached during the cusp of the Full Moon and was attacked savagely. He still bears the scars of the attack on his chest and torso, yet the scars on his neck and face faded and disappeared. His first transformation occured exactly twenty four days later at the next Full Moon.

He has grown up working very hard to protect his secret, and when young had to fake severe illness and beg to be left alone in his room where he would sneak out to hunt for those horrible days of unconscious savagry. Now he spends his time in his quiet tidy little house and works as a Night Club Attendant; which means he might be the bartender, or bouncer, or whatever is required that night.

He lives alone and has no family and few friends who he confides in. His employment history is exceptional, and he keeps the pension money from his parents in savings and a trust fund for future use if needed.

Yo', my name is Morgan, and I've been the walking dead for twenty-one years, and I've been grave robbing for seven years, I dug up lovely Crimson Kiss by means of myself and adore it.

001. ANYTHING ELSE?• questions, comments, anything...
002. ROLE PLAY SAMPLE•
((My other character, Morgan))

Morgan watched Lucy with rapt interest. He was brand newborn and didn't really have a lot of experience watching nor feeding. But he was good at it. He chose not to kill, there was more fun in creating willing Hors d'oeuvres, and he loved the chance to be compelling and demure. It was his downfall to be born in the wrong century; a modern man with an old worldly heart and soul.

It was like watching a scene in a movie to see Lucy's style. She was nimble and graceful, and quite compelling. His eyes could follow her as she danced through the air towards the unsuspecting woman, and he marveled at her strength and grace as she carried the woman away from the light civilization around. His throat clenched when she bent the neck back exposing the pulsing vein. He could hear the woman's heart, and almost hear Lucy debate to kill or not to kill. The emotion she gave off was delicious. Reckless abandon...absolute wonton thrill and self enjoyment.

He was near on drunk from the intoxicating empathic vibe he was picking up. It was tantalizing in a way he could not explain. He watched until she had returned the woman's body to rest comfortably under a tree, as if she had simply sat down and died there while watching the stars. Her face which had been a mask of fear was soft now in death, and she looked peaceful.

He shot Lucy a grin that said, "My turn" as he heard another soul wandering in the night. This one was farther away, in the adjoining farmstead. But he heard the soft rustle of feet on hard packed soil and the soft whoosh of the front door opening and closing. Sounds no more than a whisper and too faint for mortal ears this far away.

He crouched and took off like a shot covering the hundreds of meters in seconds. He paused around the back of the house and noticed a walking trail leading towards the forest. He could not read minds, except when he fed when he shared the memories of those he drank from, but he could read emotions. This person was sad, almost desolately so. Morgan followed him soundlessly watching as he wandered towards the forest edge. He heard the sigh and saw the shoulder's heave. The frame was slight, but androgynous; so he could not be sure if it was man or woman.

The body moved with a fluidity that said strength and youth, and he guessed it was a teenager, or very young adult around his own age then. He caught the scent of salt, and wondered over its source until he heard the telltale catch of breath and saw the almost imperceptible shrug of shoulders. He saw a branch in the path that would take him to pass just in front of this solitary figure, and his ever insatiable curiosity quelled the instant desire to feed.

He wanted to know why this person cried and walked alone in the night. He slipped down the adjacent trail and began to step heavier so as to announce his arrival just as he broke through the veil of trees concealing him from the other's view. He stopped as he stepped out onto the path and the other person looked up at him in surprise. There were trails of fresh tears coursing down both cheeks and Morgan smiled softly, reassuringly.

It was a young man, and he was handsome. Morgan would have given him a second look had he met him on the street, and he paused now with interested curiosity in his eyes. Evening, now friend. His lilting brogue wafted softly on the night air and the boy's eyes opened a bit wider. The boy seemed to appraise Morgan now, and this pleased him. His eyes trailed over his tight jeans, and second skin t-shirt pronouncing every taught muscle of his thin frame perfectly beneath the jacket.

Morgan's friendly grin became seductive as he noted the change in the boy's face and emotions. "Who are you?" was the unexpected question. Not what are you doing here, or why; and the question was posed as one who sees a specter in the forest at night. Morgan was in his element, and decided to play this up. I could ask you the same, but I'd rather know what causes such sadness to so handsome a man?

Morgan was toying with the boy, but he also wanted to know. He was not unprepared when the boy answered explaining that his true love was sick and on death's door. He wanted to follow her, as he knew she would not live the night. He was heading to the river where the icy water would numb him before claiming him to walk forever at her side. Morgan chuckled, So it would be your great fortune that you have met Death's Angel tonight? he queried and his eyes flashed danger and dark strength, but his smile disarmed and welcomed him closer.

Without thinking, or even probably knowing what he was doing the boy took a step closer to Morgan. Inwardly Morgan smirked; it was too easy. You would gladly give yourself to Death tonight then? There would be none whom you would linger for? Know this, beware what you ask for, for I am Death's Angel and I could easily grant you the wish your mind says it desires. But does your heart really deign to leave this world so young? Have you truely done all with living that you desire? You have but to ask, and I can grant you your wish.

He saw the spark in the boy's eyes, the question...the untended thought for what he had yet to accomplish. Morgan could see the decision change in an instant. But he wasn't through with this boy yet. He stepped forward closing the space between their bodies. He could hear the boy's heart thump in his chest, not of fear, but of desire. Morgan's fangs were elongated, but not fully advanced; and he smiled his face and body clouding the air between them with his need.

He leaned down and kissed the boy full on his lips and he watched as his eyes closed automatically and he relaxed in his stance. Morgan placed his hand around his body pulling them together. Morgan's lips moved down across his jaw and the boy leaned his head willingly. The smirk surfaced on his lips as he kissed the pulsing vein before unsheathing his fangs fully and ever so gently sinking them into the flesh. He drank and his victim moaned.

Morgan's eyes closed as he fed off the boy, and his crimson nectar was truly of the gods. It was sweet and rich with the vitality of youth. Morgan drank deeply, but did not kill the boy. Instead he lay him there gently on a mossy knoll as if he had fallen asleep. Tomorrow when his blood had replenished enough he would wake and think it had all been a dream. Morgan kissed his neck one more time, tempting himself but resisting. There were others to feed from this night.

He slipped back down the path and returned to where he had left Lucy. His cheeks were flushed with the boy's blood and he wore a carefree smirk on his face.