He is named Loth after he kept falling off of high places (which he kept climbing) and landing in his feet somehow. Also because more often than not one could find him napping in some square of sunlight or another on base whenever he had free time. This name is given by his batch brothers.
He loses most of his squad in the 101st during The Battle (an unnamed conflict during the Clone Wars), and afterwards he trains to become an ARC, and is subsequently separated from his last remaining batch brother (Trip) in order to be placed with the 104th (not by choice).
He enjoys sharing music with his brothers over their comms, and painting their armor together, though he is not actually that skilled of an artist. While introverted during the Clone Wars, able to use his squad as a social buffer, when he is alone for the second half of war he is forced to become more outgoing
Cowboy OC! This art is a bit older, but I wanted to post him anyway because I love him, and still actively play him in the game!
Read below for Lore!
Colt is abandoned from a young age by a mother who had him due to her position as a s*x worker at one of the outposts established for miners and ranch workers. He is left on his own on the streets, and finds a home in the stables, helping with the horses in exchange for a spot in the hayloft to sleep. He becomes very close with the horses, and finds them easier to understand than other humans (what we might call Autism in this day and age). He is selectively mute, and does not really speak to anyone besides the horses, and especially his own horse, which he finds later in life, Bird.
As he grows older (around 10 years old) he loses his place in the stables, and is forced to search for a home elsewhere. A local gang notices his affinity for the horses after he is caught stealing food from them. They employ him to care for the beasts as they migrate from town to town, and for a while, he is happy with this. He was never given a name, often just called ‘Boy’, but the gang members start to call him Colt’ jokingly due to how he sticks with the horses more than the other men, and is young and rather awkwardly built. It sticks, and becomes his name.
Eventually the gang gets caught up in some nasty business with some rivals, and are attacked one night, their camp set ablaze. Colt sets the horses free hastily, and leads Bird, and another injured horse Fox, to safety. In his hurry and the chaos however, a gang member (in the night and violence it is unclear who) catches him and begins to beat him. Bird comes to the rescue, kicking at the man, and Colt rolls away. However he falls down a ravine in his fear, and the rocks tear his face open. The horses are his saving grace, and guide him half blind and in pain to the nearest town where he can receive help.
His face scars over badly, and because of this and the violence he saw, he is even further retreated from other people. He only enters towns when he absolutely has to, but other than that learned to live off the land, with Bird and Fox his careful protectors and companions.
He is biromantic, with a leaning towards men, and eventually when he is around 20 years old he does meet a young Native doctor-in-training (21) who connects with him over his care for his horses at the stables of an outpost. He does not mind Colt’s silence, and prefers the quiet anyhow, and they become traveling companions through a series of misadventures and meetings.
Common attributes/symbols: Uses his hat and scarf as barriers between him and the bustling world of the towns he visits.
Call of Duty OC! I really enjoyed doing all the research to pull together his backstory details, and now I know that the British Military has a website dedicated to archiving like every kind of weapon ever, their uses, and when they were popular and why, which is incredibly helpful <3
Read below for Lore!
Alexei was born in Russia, but his parents move to Manchester when he’s 10 years old. He experiences a lot of neglect as a child, often left on his own, and tends to get into fights easily. He joins the BAF at 16 for the bed and regular meals. He excels within the structured routine and expectations of the military (it’s the undiagnosed autism) and moves into special ops by the time he’s 24 years old.
He joins the SAS and specializes in reconnaissance, sometimes functioning as a sniper when needed. He possesses an ungodly amount of patience, and crawling face-down for several kilometers doesn't bother him because of the repetitive motion. His keen eye for detail and ability to sketch out markers and guesstimate accurate distances lends him well to the role.
When he is 26 he is sent on a mission as a part of a task force to remove a drug kingpin in a city near Novosibirsk (chosen for his speciality and fluency in Russian) who has been making efforts to amass weapons of war. The objective was to find evidence on his supplier and then take him out. Things go wrong when intel provided to the task force does not account for the amount of men and the heavy guns they already had. Alexei’s own reconnaissance revealed slightly more men than expected, but the rest of the forces had been hidden, so the squad had thought they were prepared.
They are taken captive after being overwhelmed quickly once they move in on their target, and comms are jammed. Most of the task force is killed, but Alexei is used for translation purposes as he and what is left of the rest of the squad are tortured for information. Pretty soon the kingpin realizes that they won’t break/don’t know anything helpful to him, and discards the rest of them. Alexei had his tongue cut out in frustration by his captors when they could not extract information, and believing that the blood loss will kill him quickly enough, they move him into the pile to be burned with the rest of his squad that night. They were messy however, and missed the artery in his tongue. He manages to crawl into the shadows and eventually further into the woods where the bonfire has been set up. He packs his mouth with snow and ice, and once he makes it far enough away, cauterizes the wound. Once he makes it to Novosibirsk he receives medical treatment, and is then debriefed.
He enters back into the SAS once he finishes his recovery, partially because he doesn’t really have anywhere else to go, and partially because during his recovery when he is on leave, he desperately misses the lack of routine.
His callsign is ‘Kit’ which originates from several different places. It starts on one of his first mission swift the SAS, where he has to sit for so long in one spot in the middle of winter watching the target, that a group of feral cats curl up with him because of his body heat. He ends up scaring his Lt. half to death when he’s late back to base because of it, and his squad will never let him forget it. They start to call him ‘Kitty’, and additionally because of his silent tendencies, even around base, when they’re looking for him they’ll call “Hereee kitty, kitty, pspsps” As though they’re calling a cat.
Also, because of his tendency to doodle on his clothing, he often gets asked by other soldiers and higher ups that are unfamiliar with him ‘What the hell’s up with his kit,’ which becomes another double meaning for his Callsign.
At this point, and especially after his escape from capture, he’s learned to deal with the nicknames, and from those he is close to in the SAS, he appreciates the jokes. His squadmates don’t even think about it, and will shout from the common area kitchen “Want some Coffee, Kitty?” and Alexei, who has just introduced himself to a new soldier as ‘Kit’ will just have to sigh and accept it. (One time an FNG tried to call him p*ssy as a joke, but Alexei just decked him then and there, and that was the end of the matter. He didn’t get in trouble despite his Lt. standing right there watching, because the man essentially told the FNG that ‘hey man, you were kind of asking for it at that point’).
Common attributes/symbols: Prefers the AW Covert, AW50F and compact Glock 19, and a Fairbairn–Sykes fighting knife when in close combat. Tends to scratch doodles into his kit when he’s bored, and many of his clothes he wears on duty have cats, birds, and bugs sketched on the sleeves or on the thighs of his jeans.
Common activities/hobbies: He likes to keep track of the stray cats he sees around whatever base he’s stationed on in a small notebook organized by color, breed, and type. He also is often listening to music (when he can get away with it/when it’s appropriate), leaning towards mostly russian rap like Miyagi, Truwer, and Markul*(his favorite).
Rushtail was born on the Mossy Cliffs [20’s Island] to an upper class family with a long history and ties to the vampiric mafia. As a child he was unwanted. The youngest son to a large family that did not need him. He was not partial to violence or blood and was deemed useless at best, and a liability at worst. In his later teen years he fell in with a bad crowd himself, partially due to the already established ‘friendships’ of his family, and partially due to the company he himself kept. He was a partier, drinker, gambler, drug-user, and pretty much a part of whatever other time-passing pleasure he could get his paws on. While still the black sheep of the family in terms of participation in the more deadly side of their business, they allowed, and sometimes encouraged, this behavior as it fit together with the front of their own gambling halls and clubs. He was the pretty face to their operation.
But with the crackdown from Governor Patspy on their vampiric support, the family lost a lot. Money, property, and most of all, protection. They are struggling to uphold their gaudy way of life, and Rush was only a drain on their funds now that he was just an addict with a face that didn’t belong to anything they could market. But while much of their network was dead, imprisoned, or in the wind, the family saw one last chance to secure their position, and get rid of some dead weight.
Within the criminal underbelly of the Mossy Cliffs one vampire still held onto a lot of sway and power. Her name was /////// And Rushtail had happened to catch her eye.
The family makes a deal with her, where they promise her Rush in marriage, in exchange for protection and support. A guarantee at regaining their own wealth and status. Rush is forced through withdrawals, cleaned up, and told that he belongs to Her now.
The man is washed up, struggling, and in no position to complain, so he does not fight this new stage in his life. He is married to ///////, and for the first time in his life, his family is happy with him.
But /////// is is a harsh partner, and she abuses Rushtail. His home life is now the worst it has been since he was a child and living with his family, when he could not escape the abuse by running to the clubs or gambling halls. He deteriorates quickly. A year passes, and he is a shadow of himself, barely recognizing his reflection past scars, bites, and bruises.
He does not know what finally broke him. But when he breaks, he shatters.
Rush cannot remember exactly what happened, but one moment /////// Is is sinking her teeth into his neck, and the next he is standing above her corpse with a bloodied hammer, her face unrecognizable where it has been smashed to pieces. He runs.
He has little he can truly call his own, but he still has the money from the wedding stashed away, a mocking inheritance the family handed over once he had finally ‘done something worthwhile for them’, so he takes it and flees. Hiding away is hard with the connections his family has, and with //////. Dead, and Rush as the obvious culprit, they now possess even more power and friends who will hunt him down and kill him. Rush uses his tiny fortune to put together a new identity, with just enough to purchase one ticket on a blimp to one of the farthest islands away from Mossy Cliffs: Spectra Falls [50’s Island].
Russell Byrd is running from a past that has turned him into someone he hates. He has no skills, no money, and a desperate need to never let himself feel helpless again.
He finds himself at a shelter on Spectra Falls, and there he slowly gets himself back on his feet, teaching himself self-defense and promising himself that he will always be able to fight back. He finds solace in firearms, a nostalgia from some of the few happy memories from his childhood before he had been deemed worthless, when a cousin or Auntie would teach him how to shoot. He also befriends some of the volunteer medics at the shelter, who work at a nearby hospital. He convinces them to teach him first aid and some healing skills in their spare time, hoping that one day, maybe he can finally leave his past completely behind and become a doctor.
Common attributes/symbols: His large red scarf is a comfort item, as is his large coat (he likes to cover the evidence of scarring and healed vampire bites)
Common activities/hobbies: He is twitchy and paranoid, but enjoys cleaning and working on his pistols
Additional stuff: The epitome of ‘I attract people due to my weird and off-putting rizz’
Blu never should have bitten that man’s fingers off. The blood still staining his lips, he had immediately been grabbed by the collar and pulled onto the cold tile face-first. Now, finding himself with a shoe more expensive than him grinding his nose into the ground he tried to regret it.
He really couldn’t.
It had been a long night, longer than most, and being forced to stand on a pedestal garbed in heavy gold jewelry for Sir’s most loyal friends and compatriots to gawk at, while not new, was exhausting. This particular man had approached Blu from behind, startling him into a shock from his collar for the movement. The man had dug his fingers into Blu’s tawny feathers without warning, and that was it. Something inside Blu snapped. Really, he should’ve known better. But the hand was right there as he spun around, electricity snapping up his neck, and the man was slow.
On his knees, hands up by his face still being shoved into tile, and wings spread lopsided over him, Blu met his fate.
“You brag about your toys being so well-behaved, Ivo, what is this?” The man spat, blood still dripping down his hand and into Blu’s hair.
“I did warn you about the mutt, Petya, it’s not my fault you forgot how sharp Seraphim teeth are, hm?”
Sir stood up from his lounge chair as he answered his guest. As he spoke, he eyed Blu on the floor with something close to disgust, before a smile stretched across his face.
“I tell you what Petya, I’ve grown tired of this one, and considering its father’s behavior, I think a change of scene will be beneficial, no? I hand over the half-Seraphim for no charge, very generous, I know, and you - well you just keep this little…accident… to yourself?”
It wasn’t said as an offer. Sir always got what he wanted, and he knew that. The questioning tone was only a piece of the game he liked to play with his more manipulatable supporters. Blu tried to sort through the names of Sir’s recent ‘friends’. It was hard, now that he was pretty sure his nose was bleeding, and Petya had once again decided to yank on his feathers in deliberation over Sir’s deal.
Petya. Petya Robles. During Sir’s parties his tastes leaned more toward the Eastern species, which is why Blu had not immediately recognized him. But he was violent, and most importantly, the owner of the most popular form of upper-class entertainment in the entirety of Quareth. The Arena. A giant high-tech coliseum several stories high, housing criminals and indentured servants forced to fight to the death in order to win their freedom or pay off a debt. No one made it out. Blue couldn’t breathe, and there was a ringing noise in his ear. The Arena.
One of Sir’s other servants manhandled the half-Seraphim to his feet, Petya seemingly accepting the deal (just as Sir knew he would), and Blu allowed himself to be shoved into a large crate, wings crumpling to his back as the rough wood cut into his skin. He couldn’t fight, it would just earn him a quicker death than the one that was already stampeding toward him at top speed. Blu just hoped he would be able to see the sky one more time before he was ripped apart.
Here is the first half of chapter one as an animatic!
This is the first one I have ever made, but I think's its turned out pretty good for a first try (though there's certainly a lot of things to improve on)!
Enjoy!
CW: Violence against children (and in general), Death, Blood
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