I ain't exactly from 'round these parts. My name's Emmanuel Davies. Howdy-do? I'm lookin' for odd jobs to get by. I'll probably be hittin' your streets, so, to keep me off'em, I'd be much obliged to any help I can get. Please and thank ya'll...
taniel-tow answered your question:fhfhfh I promise it was not intentional. I just...
vbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbjnm - this is a message from my cat who stepped on the keyboard and then bit my nose and put her tail in my tea. /offers all the characters 8)
what are cats oh my goodness. Is your face okay? 8′|
I offer youuu Reilly, Adelphie, Frankie, Pips, Malcolm, Hyori, or anyone you might fancy on WCW?
fhfhfh I promise it was not intentional. I just ended up working around 45 hours this week and helping out otherwise and then we had faulty wiring that set off the smoke alarms and safety alarms in the house for hours on end one night aaaa. 8′|
I said: I could be a wolf for you. I could put my teeth on your throat. I could growl. I could eat you whole. I could wait for you in the dark. I could howl against your hair.
catherynne m. valente, the bread we eat in dreams (via altraviolence)
Emmanuel Parish Davies was a doughy, round-faced boy of about eleven who didn't want to be there, outside the farmstead Hastings, crouched in the mud with his friends flanking either side, but there he was, his hazel greens wide and his flannel shirt rumpled.
Mama was gonna kill him if Farmer Hastings didn't get him first.
"You just gotta go in there, get the old man's pitchfork, and bring it back'ere." Toby's blue eyes gleamed, the older boy full of nervous energy that translated to dry lips licked and shaking hands ripping apart loose blades of grass. The people in town said Toby Jeffreys had the Devil in'im, and he wanted to prove'm all right. That's how they'd wound up here, sweating and sinking into the mud. Before school started again, little devil Jeffreys wanted to make a statement. So he'd enlisted minions and walked them all to the outskirts of an inferno owned by a baptist demon who grew corn, culled cows, and smoked like a true fiend.
Kayla, on Toby's other side, flashed Emmy a reassuring smile. Kenny picked his teeth with a twig he'd found. The flies buzzed in the bloated Summer sunshine, and the earth reeked of pig shit and damp moss.
"Why's it gotta be me?" Emmy asked, tightening his hands a little. Toby's smile turned jagged at the edges.
"Because I dared ya to," he muttered, shoving at Emmy's shoulder. The smaller boy nearly plopped in the mud, frowning and scrabbling to his feet in the ditch at the far side of the Hastings property.
In a child's mind, the four acres of corn fields alone looked like a vast, browning wasteland wilting broken under the cloudless North Dakota sky.
"You're not a chicken, are ya, Emmy?" The round-faced boy reddened and scowled as Kenny uttered a low and gradual laugh, like a cartoon villain.
"He sure as heck ain't no rooster," said the freckly banker's son, flicking his wood chip away into the mud.
"If Emmy won't, Ah will," Kayla offered, fixing the red bandana covering her hair and adjusting her patched up overalls.
"Nah," said Emmy quickly, in an attempt to be brave. "Ah'll go." Toby and Kenny exchanged wicked smiles. Kayla watched Emmy instead, her dark gaze concerned. "Don't worry," Emmy said, starting for the fields that towered over him, dismally drooping and curling toward the scorched and stinking earth. "Be right back. Y'won't even miss me."
The fields closed around him in a papery embrace as Kenny whooped and Toby hushed him.
"Be careful," sighed what could've been Kayla or the wind. Emmy shook off a shiver, slipping between the skeletal stalks and pacing in worn-out trainers across the dirt.
Crows circled overhead. The only reason Emmy noticed was because their shadows took the edge off the heat of the August day, and the shade of the narrow field intensified but a little under their ominous passage by.
He wasn't sure how long he wandered, but it felt like ages. Emmy could've sworn he'd been walking in a straight line, but he kept stumbling across the same broken stalk of corn, and footprints that could've easily been his.
In the distance, he could hear the rusty squealing of some monstrous farm machine what'd seen better days. That and the buzzing of black flies ushered him faster and faster through the corn, pawing frantically through sepia fronds in an effort to at least reach the end, never mind the pitchfork and the dare now; he was thirsty and tired and not a little scared...
It was only when he turned a sharp left and nearly ran into the jaws of a baying bloodhound that Emmy finally gave up on making it to the other side.
His screams, the dog's howls, and the angry farmer's hellfire and brimstone berating boomed in the back of his mind as he surveyed the sleeping, unperturbed and early morning vision that was Hollow Ridge.
"Bad memories," Emmy murmured, adjusting the guitar on his back and shaking his head. There was nothing off the bat about the town below the plateau he rested on that should've reminded him of home. Not the silos or the old barns collapsing wearily inward. Not the fields. Not the barking dogs or crowing bantams or the creaking weather vanes.
No. Surely not. He had left that all behind.
So as he started down the hillside, Emmy tried to shake off the feeling that he was coming home.
I plan to make all of these adoptable options if enough people are interested, otherwise, secondaries for days.
---
** Grace has claimed! **
Name: Chad Carver
Face Claim: Brett Dalton [*if no one intends to use him]
Age: 32 [turned at 24]
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Dark brown
Height: 6′2″
Species: Wendigo
Powers: Long-lived and deadly. Shapeshifting from wendigo (think long; pale, scary, and antlered–with more tines the more they kill) to human shape at will; their form is lengthy, equating to how much human flesh they’ve consumed. If they don’t eat enough of their necessary diet, however, they tend to look less and less human. They emit sounds that strike the most primal, terrifying fear into the hearts of their intended prey. They can also imitate voices and call people away from their intended paths. They can move unseen through dark places and are notoriously quiet. They can blend in with their surroundings to a degree and are unbelievably fast. They’ve got wicked metabolism (no poison can harm them) and are impervious to just about everything. Their skin is very thick. They’re capable of voice mimicry and can invoke fear if necessary (I mean, if their true form doesn’t do it, that is). [**you can add other appropriate character skills as you see fit; for example, Chad is a gr8 boater but that’s not rly applicable to his wendigo abilities lol]
Weaknesses: Being a spirit of famine, they cannot breed or reproduce and as a result, are very small in number (thankfully, some might argue). They have some lesser resistance to silver, and enough of it can supposedly kill them. Fire weakens them; maybe even enough to kill them. They’re eternally hungry, never content, and restless spirits by nature.
Personality: [I’m only putting skeletal basics here. You can fill in the rest as seen fit.] Spoiled, selfish, but trying to be a better person, Chad is warm-hearted under his harsh and brash “preppy bro” exterior. He’s fond of sports and beer and polos and rounds of golf with his buddies. Or he was. Till his dense self got stranded in the wilds when his private plane went down, and he ended up--well, the pilot and copilot didn’t make it out alive. Only Chad did, horribly changed...
Job: [He basically lives off his life savings/inheritance but fEEL FREE TO TRY]
Residence: TBA
Other Odds-and-Ends: Chad is an American; raised in the nice part of New York state. Also he tried to come back to normality following the plane crash but er. That didn’t go super well and now half his biological family is...dead...to put it delicately. The rest is open to the player and we can collaborate.
** Morgan has expressed interest **
Name: Greta Heinz
Face Claim: Joey King [*if no one intends to use her]
Age: 82 or so [turned at 14]
Eyes: Blue-hazel
Hair: Red
Height: 4′9″
Species: Wendigo
Powers: Long-lived and deadly. Shapeshifting from wendigo (think long; pale, scary, and antlered–with more tines the more they kill) to human shape at will; their form is lengthy, equating to how much human flesh they’ve consumed. If they don’t eat enough of their necessary diet, however, they tend to look less and less human. They emit sounds that strike the most primal, terrifying fear into the hearts of their intended prey. They can also imitate voices and call people away from their intended paths. They can move unseen through dark places and are notoriously quiet. They can blend in with their surroundings to a degree and are unbelievably fast. They’ve got wicked metabolism (no poison can harm them) and are impervious to just about everything. Their skin is very thick. They’re capable of voice mimicry and can invoke fear if necessary (I mean, if their true form doesn’t do it, that is). [**you can add other appropriate character skills as you see fit; for example, Greta has a wicked throwing arm.]
Weaknesses: Being a spirit of famine, they cannot breed or reproduce and as a result, are very small in number (thankfully, some might argue). They have some lesser resistance to silver, and enough of it can supposedly kill them. Fire weakens them; maybe even enough to kill them. They’re eternally hungry, never content, and restless spirits by nature.
Personality: [I’m only putting skeletal basics here. You can fill in the rest as seen fit.] Sardonic, and oft tougher than she needs to be, Greta is the tiniest survivor. She’s very attached to Noemi [Laura’s wendigo] and is a ferocious scrapper. She has no problem speaking up and speaking out/her mind. She tries to keep it together and be as normal a teenager as possible despite circumstances. Very much a tomboy.
Job: [UNSURE, UP TO U]
Residence: TBA
Other Odds-and-Ends: Greta is German, and due to unforeseen circumstances on a horrible camping trip in the highlands of Europe, she ended up...well. Greta wasn’t found for a long time. And her parents got hurt during the storm that wrecked their camp. Like...really hurt. Fatal hurt. The math can be done. [The rest is up to you.]
** Stormy has expressed interest **
Name: Back Hawk
Face Claim: Aho Eddie Spears [*if no one intends to use him--I tried to find a First Nations/Algonquin actor so this may be subject to change, but Eddie really comes close to my vision of BH.]
Age: 343 [turned at 38]
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black
Height: 5′6″
Species: Wendigo
Powers: Long-lived and deadly. Shapeshifting from wendigo (think long; pale, scary, and antlered–with more tines the more they kill) to human shape at will; their form is lengthy, equating to how much human flesh they’ve consumed. If they don’t eat enough of their necessary diet, however, they tend to look less and less human. They emit sounds that strike the most primal, terrifying fear into the hearts of their intended prey. They can also imitate voices and call people away from their intended paths. They can move unseen through dark places and are notoriously quiet. They can blend in with their surroundings to a degree and are unbelievably fast. They’ve got wicked metabolism (no poison can harm them) and are impervious to just about everything. Their skin is very thick. They’re capable of voice mimicry and can invoke fear if necessary (I mean, if their true form doesn’t do it, that is). [**you can add other appropriate character skills as you see fit; for example, Black Hawk is the gang’s resident weapons’ expert]
Weaknesses: Being a spirit of famine, they cannot breed or reproduce and as a result, are very small in number (thankfully, some might argue). They have some lesser resistance to silver, and enough of it can supposedly kill them. Fire weakens them; maybe even enough to kill them. They’re eternally hungry, never content, and restless spirits by nature.
Personality: [I’m only putting skeletal basics here. You can fill in the rest as seen fit.] Described as a man who is a “condensed ball of anger”, Black Hawk is resilient, forceful, with a short fuse and a sour attitude when it comes to authority figures. He has a limited amount of patience for ignorance, injustice, and stupid people in general.
Job: [When he feels like working, he’s a super skillful mechanic.]
Residence: TBA
Other Odds-and-Ends: Black Hawk is Algonquin; a deadshot with any long range weapon, sings terrible karaoke, and his origins are steeped in the more traditional wendigo lore--seeing as the lore stems from his people, and all. He’s bitter that despite being the oldest in wendigo terms [he changed back in the 1700′s during a really hard Winter] Murray somehow wound up the one in charge. And yet he sticks around. [The rest is up to you.]
** Katie has expressed interest **
Name: Vega Iglesias Lucia
Face Claim: Jesse Garcia [*if no one intends to use him]
Age: ? rough estimate around 179 or so, but no one is sure. [turned at 28]
Eyes: Green-Hazel
Hair: Dark brown
Height: 5′8″
Species: Wendigo
Powers: Long-lived and deadly. Shapeshifting from wendigo (think long; pale, scary, and antlered–with more tines the more they kill) to human shape at will; their form is lengthy, equating to how much human flesh they’ve consumed. If they don’t eat enough of their necessary diet, however, they tend to look less and less human. They emit sounds that strike the most primal, terrifying fear into the hearts of their intended prey. They can also imitate voices and call people away from their intended paths. They can move unseen through dark places and are notoriously quiet. They can blend in with their surroundings to a degree and are unbelievably fast. They’ve got wicked metabolism (no poison can harm them) and are impervious to just about everything. Their skin is very thick. They’re capable of voice mimicry and can invoke fear if necessary (I mean, if their true form doesn’t do it, that is). [**you can add other appropriate character skills as you see fit; for example, Chad is a gr8 boater but that’s not rly applicable to his wendigo abilities lol]
Weaknesses: Being a spirit of famine, they cannot breed or reproduce and as a result, are very small in number (thankfully, some might argue). They have some lesser resistance to silver, and enough of it can supposedly kill them. Fire weakens them; maybe even enough to kill them. They’re eternally hungry, never content, and restless spirits by nature.
Personality: [I’m only putting skeletal basics here. You can fill in the rest as seen fit.] Vega is a distant figure; chronicling everything from a safe and vaguely sarcastic distance. He started his life as a devoted missionary and ended it a desperate, pathetic figure in the jungles of a land he didn’t know much about. He is shaking off an old arrogance and self-righteousness, finding it hard to do so. He acts as a voice of mediation in times of strife. But there is a dark edge to him. As there is to all of them, but Vegas is particularly difficult to spot if you aren’t looking.
Job: [Writer! Freelance and official wendigo chronicler.]
Residence: TBA
Other Odds-and-Ends: Vega is an ex-missionary from Spain whose diplomacy is washed in blood. He tries very hard to regain control, but, arguably, he’s the one who loses it the most. [The rest is up to you.]
Noemi is Laura’s and can be found here.
Murray is mine and can be found here.
Also, you are more than welcome to make your own wendigogos. I just ask that the gang’s numbers be kept under 10. 7 Would be ideal, but of course, you can come to me with any questions or ideas. \.v./
