Post by cyrus on May 9, 2012 14:24:30 GMT -5
Name: Xander Martyniak
Age: Somewhere near 100. Nobody counts after 80.
Race: Werewolf
Rank: Civilian
Status: Single and not especially interested in any long term ‘mates’
Build: In a perfect world, he’d be in his prime as a werewolf. Still young enough to have the youthful strength but enough experience to know how to use it best. Given the circumstances, his muscular body seems more… tired than it should. There is still an obvious strength with the muscle on his relatively small frame but the scars have tempered his fury.
Height: Somewhere just short of six feet, if he had enough supply to waste it on a tape measure then there would quite a few other trinkets he would like to mention.
Weight: At a guess? 200.
Skin color: Tanned
Hair: A dark brown, lightened by the time he spends above ground and the few stress-created greys that he denies as adamantly as any fairytale. When it gets long enough to be a bother he’ll cut it short again but usually doesn’t pay much attention to it.
Occupation: In his group, Aleron is little more than a civilian, doing whatever is asked of him but little more. In truth, he struggles with this lack of purpose. The past thirty years of his life had been dedicated to another. He is a guardian in the purest sense of the word but purity isn’t a thing that this new world knows.
Additions:
History/Personality: It had long been said in his family that there only two types of people in the world. You were a leader or you were a follower and everything thereafter was insignificant. Xander had simply been born to follow. At a young age Xander had known that he would be a follower. He was always getting caught in other people’s business and cursing himself for it after but he could never bring himself to turn away from someone in need. His own family scolded him for it but the only times that his life had any meaning was when he was helping someone else. It could be said that wanting to do the right thing was an admirable quality but few others picked up on that aspect. Instead, they called him an incompetent half-wit for not wanting to help himself or have the initiative to seize life as it was.
He had never known his biological father because he was born a bastard. His father was a mated beta but Xander was the result of an affair with a young pack member that had cost his father his life. He’d been taken in by the woman who should have been his mother but he hadn’t even learned to walk before he’d been sent from her home. He had no family to claim him truly and the clan had little interest in him. Before the apocalypse, a pack had no reason to take in a bastard just to swell their ranks and eventually he was deposited with a mixed couple. His new father was a werewolf where the mother of the family was human. They had not conceived a child of their own but instead had the two sons given up by the clan. Xander lived with them for a number of years, working as a mechanic with his fake father and brother rather than going to school. He knew how to read, write and figure as well as the skills he picked up in the shop but little else in terms of public education.
In his early twenties he left and joined the army for a long series of years and truly found his niche as being a protector. He was an excellent soldier but eventually left the service after gaining quite a few medals but very few ranks. Even in a place he knew easily as home, he was not a leader.
Much of the next chapter of his life had him as a wanderer. He traveled; he fought often with many of the werewolves or even vampires that he encountered. His restlessness made him violent and much of his true fighting experience came from these encounters. The mixture of this and being used by those that he still tried to help returned him to the first family that he had known. At first, all he found were rumors of his brother being killed after fighting with the alpha of the cities pack. Instead of finding all of the answers, he found that his brother had taken a human female just as their father had. The woman was now alone in the world if not for the infant in her arms. Xander moved her away from the city and stayed with her while the child was growing up. If there was one person that he owed then it was the family that had taken him and instead he had left them to the slaughter.
At first, he was to stay only while she was young but the connection between them was instantaneous. Everything he’d learned had honed him to protect this child and from her first steps he was with her. It had already been decided that she would be Elizabeth Bernadette and with her mother unwed she kept the Soloroz family name. They grew together, almost a family. Even high school had gone smoothly but by her senior year, she had found the adventure that her father had died for. There is simply a privacy that a grown man must give a young girl but by her twenties he shadowed her often, occasionally slinking into the house long after she was asleep. The vampires taking an interest in her had to be physically reprimanded for their attentions. His charge knew about his shadowing long before he thought she did and it brought him his first present. One day she slipped away, and was gone for nearly an hour before he caught up to her standing innocently under a tree in the park with a small package in her hands. “I want you to wear this and never take it off.” She had said it playfully but from the moment that had donned the over-sized, spiked dog collar, he had done as she bid him. It hung like a shirt collar, not tight on his neck and was studded with the stereotypical spikes; it was a joke, probably bought at some freaky fetish store but, “I’ll always know you if you wear it.” When she said it, the knowing had gone deeper than just knowing him by sight. Even when in his wolf form, his collar hung around his neck. As compensation, she had strung his army dog tags and wore them around her own neck. It had been the happiest times that he knew.
With everything, it could not last. Their closeness ended up bringing them apart in the end. He'd been so close to everything in her life and alone, one day she spoke aloud. She loved him vainly. The words disgusted her when she admitted them, and even if age hadn't separated them, he could never have returned her feelings. Neither of them had known what to do with this; he distanced himself from her. He'd gone too far, he'd kept her too close even while appearing so carefully disinterested.
She took his separation as an admonishment and it burned. She needed someone else in her life and without warning she left even as war was shaking the foundations. Despite her protests, he followed her and begged her not to go where he knew she was going. A werewolf had been with her since birth but vampires were still dark and mysterious. A temptation she would so willingly give herself to. He would have never allowed it but she no longer cared. The protection she’d taken for granted felt oppressive. They clashed as often as he clashed with the vampires until finally she had given him a command on the very edge of the apocalypse. He was to leave her alone. Not in the way that she said it when she was simply upset. All he had known was obeying and doing what was best for her. The new family she found might protect her from the chaos that erupted and grew more terrifying each day. He left.
Alone, again, as the world came back together, Xander had no place to go. He knew no kinship to any groups, not even those like him, not after the trouble with his own pack. For a long while he lived on the streets and anywhere that he could lay his head for a few hours without losing it. He was a follower without a leader and it felt empty. He came to the Labonita knowing they would take in any race and he had passed the tests if only by proving that he was skilled enough to be useful. He couldn’t say he had gone through the final test or that anyone cared. He was just another civilian, helping wherever he was needed but doing little more. The idea that Elizabeth might be alive haunted his as much as it gave him hope. One day, he knew he would go and find out her fate but she had made her choice before the apocalypse, unlike some. There were countless others that needed help and he would offer it, grudgingly, even as he knew that he was offering himself another scar.
Relations:
Charge: Elizabeth Bernadette Soloroz (Or so she had been called before she turned) - Missing
Age: Somewhere near 100. Nobody counts after 80.
Race: Werewolf
Rank: Civilian
Status: Single and not especially interested in any long term ‘mates’
Build: In a perfect world, he’d be in his prime as a werewolf. Still young enough to have the youthful strength but enough experience to know how to use it best. Given the circumstances, his muscular body seems more… tired than it should. There is still an obvious strength with the muscle on his relatively small frame but the scars have tempered his fury.
Height: Somewhere just short of six feet, if he had enough supply to waste it on a tape measure then there would quite a few other trinkets he would like to mention.
Weight: At a guess? 200.
Skin color: Tanned
Hair: A dark brown, lightened by the time he spends above ground and the few stress-created greys that he denies as adamantly as any fairytale. When it gets long enough to be a bother he’ll cut it short again but usually doesn’t pay much attention to it.
Occupation: In his group, Aleron is little more than a civilian, doing whatever is asked of him but little more. In truth, he struggles with this lack of purpose. The past thirty years of his life had been dedicated to another. He is a guardian in the purest sense of the word but purity isn’t a thing that this new world knows.
Additions:
History/Personality: It had long been said in his family that there only two types of people in the world. You were a leader or you were a follower and everything thereafter was insignificant. Xander had simply been born to follow. At a young age Xander had known that he would be a follower. He was always getting caught in other people’s business and cursing himself for it after but he could never bring himself to turn away from someone in need. His own family scolded him for it but the only times that his life had any meaning was when he was helping someone else. It could be said that wanting to do the right thing was an admirable quality but few others picked up on that aspect. Instead, they called him an incompetent half-wit for not wanting to help himself or have the initiative to seize life as it was.
He had never known his biological father because he was born a bastard. His father was a mated beta but Xander was the result of an affair with a young pack member that had cost his father his life. He’d been taken in by the woman who should have been his mother but he hadn’t even learned to walk before he’d been sent from her home. He had no family to claim him truly and the clan had little interest in him. Before the apocalypse, a pack had no reason to take in a bastard just to swell their ranks and eventually he was deposited with a mixed couple. His new father was a werewolf where the mother of the family was human. They had not conceived a child of their own but instead had the two sons given up by the clan. Xander lived with them for a number of years, working as a mechanic with his fake father and brother rather than going to school. He knew how to read, write and figure as well as the skills he picked up in the shop but little else in terms of public education.
In his early twenties he left and joined the army for a long series of years and truly found his niche as being a protector. He was an excellent soldier but eventually left the service after gaining quite a few medals but very few ranks. Even in a place he knew easily as home, he was not a leader.
Much of the next chapter of his life had him as a wanderer. He traveled; he fought often with many of the werewolves or even vampires that he encountered. His restlessness made him violent and much of his true fighting experience came from these encounters. The mixture of this and being used by those that he still tried to help returned him to the first family that he had known. At first, all he found were rumors of his brother being killed after fighting with the alpha of the cities pack. Instead of finding all of the answers, he found that his brother had taken a human female just as their father had. The woman was now alone in the world if not for the infant in her arms. Xander moved her away from the city and stayed with her while the child was growing up. If there was one person that he owed then it was the family that had taken him and instead he had left them to the slaughter.
At first, he was to stay only while she was young but the connection between them was instantaneous. Everything he’d learned had honed him to protect this child and from her first steps he was with her. It had already been decided that she would be Elizabeth Bernadette and with her mother unwed she kept the Soloroz family name. They grew together, almost a family. Even high school had gone smoothly but by her senior year, she had found the adventure that her father had died for. There is simply a privacy that a grown man must give a young girl but by her twenties he shadowed her often, occasionally slinking into the house long after she was asleep. The vampires taking an interest in her had to be physically reprimanded for their attentions. His charge knew about his shadowing long before he thought she did and it brought him his first present. One day she slipped away, and was gone for nearly an hour before he caught up to her standing innocently under a tree in the park with a small package in her hands. “I want you to wear this and never take it off.” She had said it playfully but from the moment that had donned the over-sized, spiked dog collar, he had done as she bid him. It hung like a shirt collar, not tight on his neck and was studded with the stereotypical spikes; it was a joke, probably bought at some freaky fetish store but, “I’ll always know you if you wear it.” When she said it, the knowing had gone deeper than just knowing him by sight. Even when in his wolf form, his collar hung around his neck. As compensation, she had strung his army dog tags and wore them around her own neck. It had been the happiest times that he knew.
With everything, it could not last. Their closeness ended up bringing them apart in the end. He'd been so close to everything in her life and alone, one day she spoke aloud. She loved him vainly. The words disgusted her when she admitted them, and even if age hadn't separated them, he could never have returned her feelings. Neither of them had known what to do with this; he distanced himself from her. He'd gone too far, he'd kept her too close even while appearing so carefully disinterested.
She took his separation as an admonishment and it burned. She needed someone else in her life and without warning she left even as war was shaking the foundations. Despite her protests, he followed her and begged her not to go where he knew she was going. A werewolf had been with her since birth but vampires were still dark and mysterious. A temptation she would so willingly give herself to. He would have never allowed it but she no longer cared. The protection she’d taken for granted felt oppressive. They clashed as often as he clashed with the vampires until finally she had given him a command on the very edge of the apocalypse. He was to leave her alone. Not in the way that she said it when she was simply upset. All he had known was obeying and doing what was best for her. The new family she found might protect her from the chaos that erupted and grew more terrifying each day. He left.
Alone, again, as the world came back together, Xander had no place to go. He knew no kinship to any groups, not even those like him, not after the trouble with his own pack. For a long while he lived on the streets and anywhere that he could lay his head for a few hours without losing it. He was a follower without a leader and it felt empty. He came to the Labonita knowing they would take in any race and he had passed the tests if only by proving that he was skilled enough to be useful. He couldn’t say he had gone through the final test or that anyone cared. He was just another civilian, helping wherever he was needed but doing little more. The idea that Elizabeth might be alive haunted his as much as it gave him hope. One day, he knew he would go and find out her fate but she had made her choice before the apocalypse, unlike some. There were countless others that needed help and he would offer it, grudgingly, even as he knew that he was offering himself another scar.
Relations:
Charge: Elizabeth Bernadette Soloroz (Or so she had been called before she turned) - Missing