Trash Scavenger

[thievesofmidnight]

Trash Scavenger
is now entering it's all in yer mind

About You;;
behind the RPer

Name:
Age:
Years of Rping:
Contact:

ID Tag;;

Alias: Trash
Name: Tristan Everhette Scavenger
Gender: Male, duh..?
Orientation: Heterosexual
Zodiac: Virgo
Real Age: 49
Physical Age: 20
Species: Werewolf
Sire: Born this way… yeah.
Religious Affiliation:Dunno, but I’m curious about this Jesus guy.
Wealth: …Not much.
Job: Borrowing forcefully.

Dear Diary;;

Specialties:
1. Natural Survivor
2. Beautifully Boyish
3. Tolerance for Pain

Summary:
Trash is a survivor. He is extremely intelligent but likes to play the part of a slacker when the need calls for it. He can be seen whenever he thinks no one is looking, often going through, well... trash, to find new objects that interest him or just find something to eat. His beautifully boyish looks work to his own advantage, winning him lots of free stuff... But he is shot down quite often in the real world because he looks so boyish to begin with. He's very smart and sarcastic and he's a loner at heart.

He can withstand a lot of pressure and a lot of pain, especially when someone is roughing him up. Trash is swift, thanks to his slender being but it doesn't mean that he isn't strong because it's quite the opposite, considering his form. Trash is exceptionally vicious toward strangers and trespassers. His sense of hearing is very keen and his instincts are very sharp. Very good at five-finger-discounts.

Weakness:
1. Food
2. Clothing/Shopping
3. Crowds
4. Emo people

Summary:
Trash loves to eat and it's no wonder since he's so thin in the first place. When he has no food, he goes into a depression. When he goes into a depression, he tends to binge on food. A two-way loss for poor Tristan of the Trash. He can't stand being among a crowd of people because it makes him feel closed in. Most times, he’ll seek places without so many people—a place he can breathe, lest he explode and go into a fit of insane screaming. He loves seeing other emo-people, and he'll do whatever it takes to get their attention, including making himself appear a lot more pathetic than he is. He also has a weakness for clothing and, with ill-gotten funds, he’ll waste no time in shopping and buying the newest things that appeal to him. As a result, sometimes he’ll go without food because he’s spent all of his money on things he’s reluctant to return!

Human Appearance;;

Hair: Black
Eyes: Ocean Blue
Height: 5’10”
Marks: Piercings made of copper or gold… for obvious reasons. God.
Race: Caucasian
Skin Tone: Pale
Body Type: Slender
Clothing Style:Emo, of course… I don’t think I need to really explain.
Footwear: Chucks, Etnies, skate shoes

Summary:
Trash is boyish by nature. His pretty face often has others fawning after him or pitying him, getting him whatever they feel he needs, including clothes. His hair is as dark as the night he embraces. He tends to grow his bangs long, covering one or both eyes. But this works out very well since blinding himself improves his hearing. His skin is fair and his eyes are a vivid blue, often accidentally inviting strangers because they seem so friendly. He's very slim and able to literally slip away from others. He is often seen wearing the same thing, just rearranged so that he could feel like he's wearing something new... At least until he wins someone over and gets them to buy him new threads. He has several piercings, three being on his lips and chin, and gages in his ears with several loops to follow.

Wolf Appearance;;

Eye Color: Bluish silver
Fur Color: Black
Fur Length: Long—really long
Fur Texture: Soft, silky and wiry at the same time
Size: 8’2”
Marks: The piercings, if they stay after transforming.

Personality;;

Likes:
1. Mournah—Amourah Synestra La’Vette
2. Stealing
3. Eating
4. Music
5. Long walks on the beach… -.-; Yes, I am a romantic sissy. Bite me—not you, Constance!!!!
6. Cuddling

Dislikes:
1. Vampires
2. Constance
3. Changing
4. Cops

Flaws:
1. Shy
2. Traditional in thought
3. Asshole critic

Summary: Trash's personality fluctuates like a stereo: the beat is always changing. Trash is bold, but he's shy at the same time. He is quick to get in one's face for wrong doing but he'll shy away if someone actually tries to get close to him. Trash loves to be himself in general. He lives to argue, debating anything from a mere bag of chips to the Apocalypse. Trash can be as cold as ice but when he's angry, even the pits of hell's fire couldn't burn a soul like he could. He’s an egocentric jackass most of the time, hatefully critical of anything he might find with a flaw.

He tends to stay away from huge crowds and likes to watch from the higher areas in life. He is also well acquainted with the cops, due to his love of thievery. His disdain for them is more than they truthfully deserve. He does steal, after all, but it’s a necessary evil for him. Trash loves music, especially Screamo since it tends to pertain to most aspects of his life. He's usually seen as a really sad, distant individual but, should he decide to let someone in, he's very nice and doesn't mind snuggling. I mean, he likes long walks on the beach—literally!

To make things a little more difficult for him, his hatred of vampires is acidic at best. Constance is his number one fear, being that she is very much out of this world. According to Trash, she’s out of her mind—and he has been an unfortunate witness on more than one occasion to her bouts of playful insanity. To add to this, he believes all vampires are sick and cruel—and full of blood-related diseases! In contrast to this, he is a big fan of Amourah La’Vette, a model who mirrors his malady. Having run into her and been subject to her abuse time and time again makes him desperate to have her for his own. But not without getting through White Fang!

His last and final feature is odd—he has a hatred of changing. Now, his tolerance for pain stems from his rough childhood. But the fact that he needs to have his piercings replaced or reopened makes him really hate it! His piercings are a fashion statement and they can be expensive!

Background Check;;

Family Members:
Birth Place: I’unno. Somewhere in Oregon.
Childhood: Yeah. My stupid fucking brothers running my snout into deer shit! GRRR!!!
Transformation: Born this way, fortunately and unfortunately.
Prey: Deer, people…. Um… trash.
Moon Tidings: Easier when the moon is even slightly visible—as a crescent. But I can transform when I want, too.
Other Transformation: Not sure. I’ve never done it. White Fang says cut someone and add a dab of my blood but, like… the vampires---ugh.
History:
I hate these fucking things. Here, I am: At the Police Station as was the fucking usual for me. They're asking me to tell them about my history, writing it in essay format so they'll know I'm not lying about having gone to school. Fuckers. Well, you all already know that I'm a lycan. No wonder you bastards were able to catch me: threaten me with silver? Now, that's a bitch move. Yah... Read it and weep.

I had a pretty normal life coming up. I can remember cub-hood like it was yesterday. Running through the grass was so much fun, it really was. Picking out the fleas and ticks… uh… not so fun. I loved playing with my brothers and teasing the living hell out of my two sisters. I've always been werewolf. There was no biting involved, no pain. Nope. Just birth. My mom and dad were natural born wolves, themselves. Supposedly, the Scavenger's have a name to be laughed at by fools, revered by the experienced and the intelligent. But, I guess you guys aren't in that category. Ha! No, just joking...

Things seemed pretty normal for me, in a lycan-sense, anyways. I knew when to run, when to hide, when to kill. When I was seven, I had my first change brought on by my brother. He was that good at pissing me off and he loved every second of my agonizing torture of a change. He laughed at me when I was done because I hadn't had the chance to strike him. Five minutes later, I was passed out on the floor of our kitchen, a battered little boy all over again.

God, how my Mom cradled me that night. My brothers made fun of me for it. I would show them, one day, that I was not a pansy. The years passed by and the young wolf in me was no longer a pup. No, I was a complete grown animal by the time I was thirteen. Ha, I lost my virginity then. Her long milky thighs parted in anticipation, the heat of the passion she held for me made her whimper as I-- ha!! Thought I was going to spill, didn't you?? That's for you, Jack-ass-son! For NOT returning the dirty magazine I stole from the trash can! Perverted ASS!! Now, on with my past.

Ah, yes. Now I remember when I showed my brothers I wasn't a pussy. Yes, Mr. Christian Officer. I don't give a fuck if you hate cussing. Your first name's a cuss. Dick.

My brothers were fraternal twins and were ten years older than me. Baron and Byron were very handsome guys, don't get me wrong. Baron was the epitome of darkness with his hair completely black and eyes that were such a dark blue they shone violet in the light. He was a reflection of our mother. Byron was the lighter of the two. He had eyes as green as the trees of a Perfect Eden. His hair was a dark scarlet and, where Baron's skin was pale, his held some color. He resembled my father.


My little sisters were also twins, both being a reflection of Baron and Byron, dark to light, sfmatto in the artist's world. Ahmretta was the sweet one by nature. She held on to my father's lightness of heart and physical brightness. Odessa was the darkest plum to choose from the basket. I've dedicated one of my favorite songs to her from a kick-ass band called Cradle of Filth. She'd be Nymphetamine because she's so dark... My Mother calls her the smallest Gem because she is the smallest. She is shorter than her twin. But she is every bit as tenacious and foreboding, like death, like my mother.

Now, my mother's name was Jetta because of her naturally dark beauty. When she changed, her coat reflected the night sky. And she was quite the fighter, never dominated in her long lifetime--except by my father. Antonius was my father's name. When he changes, he resembles a Jackal, slim and elegant, a foreteller of death and this is the connection of my parents. Look at me... I have his build but I have my mother's wolf form. Just male...

I was about 15 now. It was around Christmas time and we all wanted to get our Mom something special to show her that we truly loved her with all of our hearts. We were down in the city again and we'd heard about some sort of Wolves Jewel that was made out of Onyx. This jewel would be the perfect gift for her. She loved Onyx. Everything she had with a gem in it had to be onyx. The police guarded The Mall like it was a high security bank. No one was allowed in unless they had some form of identification and you had to be in the system.

Those who were denied entry were given a ticket for walking around and driving with an expired license and all that jazz. It was pretty retarded. Baron and Byron cornered me as soon as we got inside. Ahmretta and Odessa went wandering, shopping like girls often do. They had known... shared a link, a twin link that only they all knew of. I would never know because I had no like-minded figure to be with me.

"Wanna prove you're not a pussy?" Byron asked. I never could imagine his sweet face letting out such harsh language. "Get the Wolves Gem."

"I don't have money for that!" I cried.

"Don't be a Pussy. Pussies and vampires...? They pay for it all. It's named after us. Just... take it. It's ours? Right? Pussy?" Baron said as he crossed his arms.

"Quit calling me that!!" I screamed. I could feel my pelt beginning to prickle upward just beneath my skin. I was ready to change but I knew they'd just defeat me and I'd get us all killed. The night came quickly and the mall cleared out like the air in my lungs. My brothers left me in the mall, in a dumpster just behind the food courts. Needless to say, I hadn't eaten in days and most of the food in here was still hot and fresh... And so I gorged myself until the wee hours of the night.

When I was sure all was clear and sound, I crept out of the dumpster, holding in my groans as my stomach roiled and churned violently. I felt the pressure in my rear and my side threatened to burst open, my bladder felt as if it was about to pop. I was about to panic, for I knew using the bathroom meant auto-flushing toilets and, in case someone was there, I didn't want to take a chance. The beast in me whimpered with desperation and then it came, tearing through my clothes and shaking off the liquids of the garbage I'd rested in.

I lifted my leg upon the column that rose high to the glass sun roof of the mall, sighing heavily. Pissing never felt so good. And then I found myself lurched over, my legs bent and shaking from the pressure, as I balanced myself upon my paws, claws digging into the rug of the Santa exhibition, tail up and curled to avoid the exit as I relieved myself... I almost felt bad.. but then I didn't.

I wandered around the mall for another two hours, sniffing certain shops and chewing on several locks to get at the candy and the many assorted treats inside. And then I saw it, in all of its blackened glory as it sat in the center of the jewelry store. It glittered like mad, like the eyes of the devil daring me to reach out and touch it. My heart raced with nothing short of fear and excitement. I needed this gem. I needed to show Mother I was not a failure, that I could do fine alone. I needed to prove to Baron and Byron that I was not a pussy.

...I was so close! I could smell the hands that had touched it earlier... And then--

"FUCKIN' FREEEEEEZZZZE!!!!!!!" The officer held a laser to my head, his aim dead on. "Put your MOTHERFUCKIN' paws in da' AIR, BITCH!!" The SWAT team had come in and they had no intent on taking it easy, not in the city, not on a lycan. I could see where all of them hid themselves, hear every gun propped on a shoulder, see the glints of the Christmas lights on the glass of the scopes. "Yeah... who's a good lil' bitch? You gon' lay down and let us take you in, bitch? Or... are we gon' have to put you DOWN?!!! DOWN, BIYATCH!"

"Ah, shit, man... There's silver bullets in here, man. Don't make me fuck you up." Another nervous officer was saying.

"I hate dogs..." I heard a gruff voice say. "Cats don't shit wherever they please. It's a systematic process of their everyday lives. Everything is in order. It's like they've got OCD up the ass, son." I'd heard him. My father spoke to me out of the darkness. He'd been playing his roll as an officer again--well, it was his job. He couldn't let them know he was lycan. It was why he was so damn precise. "Let him go, boys. He's just a pup."

After that, my life at home took a downward spiral straight to hell. My brothers still laugh at me. Everyone in school found out what happened, though the fact that I was a lycan went unmentioned in the paper. I got off with the notion of delinquency, having been a brat who hid in a trash can and fell asleep--a joke gone too far and I was supposedly unaware of the danger 'lurking' in the darkness. People started calling me Trash... It's stuck with me every since. Everything is okay now, except... well... I'm older and I'm on my own. So, that's me... Tristan.

Code Word:
p00f the magic fairy baby

Mad Skills;;

[Example of your Role-Playing]

Trash had been wandering again, sniffing at various smells and rummaging through whatever just happened to be laying around, open for his interest. He'd seen a man suddenly run out of a shop and take off into the early mists of the morning. He wondered just what he'd gone running for, just barely catching sight of a long glimmering shaft in the distance. He was only assuming that this man was a hunter and he'd just gotten a tip-off about a bounty of some high magnitude.

Trash's nose tingled with delight. Normally he wouldn't be able to sniff out the hunters; they had a way of covering their scents as they went about their way. But the smell of the coffee and the thought of him dropping it kept the beast within him going for the gold. He followed the hunter miles into the distance, watching the sun as it rose over the horizon, its scenic beams acting as its cosmic yawn to start the day.

The coffee was strong and he wanted to knock the hunter over just to lick the coffee from his fingers, from the cup itself. But it was nearly overpowered by the high stench of dung as he passed the farmlands... He'd been running on all fours, even though he was a man at the moment--but it helped to move faster and then he stood.

Four figures stood in the wheat fields behind Farmer John's house, each having got there by chance. And now Trash was one of them...

[Isi Runasimi]

Very nice, accepted!