Sir Nicolas Scott-Wallace III

[nickles]

Nicolas Scott-Wallace
is now entering it's all in yer mind

www.sethbarnes.com/blogphotos/sethbarnes/www/braveheart.jpg

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About You;;
behind the RPer

Name:
Age: 15
Years of Rping: About five years
Contact: [e-mail]

ID Tag;;

Alias: Nick, Mungo, Nickles
Name: Sir Nicolas Scott-Wallace the Third
Gender: Male
Orientation: Straight
Real Age: 230
Physical Age: 23
Species: Were-Wolf
Sire: Sir Nicolas Scott-Wallace the Second
Religious Affiliation: None
Wealth: Despite having a respectable wealth due to family connections, Nick prefers to live on his own money. As such, his financial situation depends on the current situation.
Job: Family wealth is due to his family’s lycan history. His great-grandfather was a wandering warrior, his grandfather a bandit and his father an attorney. Over the centuries, their trades have accumulated into a respectable wealth. Nick himself has little personal wealth and has no particular place of work.

Dear Diary;;

Specialties:
1. Very athletic
2. High pain tolerance
3. Skilled in many forms of combat
4. Very knowledgeable of the world

Summary:
Born to a pack of wolves, Nick was forced to fight to survive very early on. Survival of the fittest was a reality, and so Nick became fit and fight. As such, he grew to greet pain with a bitter welcome, and as such can take a large amount of it before he loses himself to it. These hardships lead to him becoming a skilled fighter. Not to mention his natural Scottish upbringing, which was harsh and a brutal one. However, this brutal upbringing resulted in Nick becoming a warrior equal to few in his pack. He was taught by his father how to use his mind, and as such became one of the more educated of his pack.

Weakness:
1. Silver
2. Alcohol
3. Stubborn
4. Enjoys talking shit

Summary:
First and foremost, Nick is a lycan, and as such he is especially weak to silver. It burns through his skin like acid. Second, Nick is a Scot, and so he is especially weak to alcohol. He drinks it like water and it is not uncommon for him to be drunk. He is stubborn due to his upraising, and once he sets his mind towards something it is unlikely he will waver from that path. He has a fast tongue and often gets into fight over it, though he does have the strength to back up his words. He especially enjoys using his wit to make those socially higher than him feel utterly stupid.

Human Appearance;;

Hair: His hair is thick and wild, kept at shoulder length. A dark brown color, it seems unmanaged. The only part that looks even remotely managed are two braids which descend down the sides of his face in front of his ears and stop right beneath his shoulders.
Eyes: Blue
Height: 6’6
Marks: The only scar on his face is through his right eyebrow which stops halfway through his cheek. It is thin and pale, hardly noticeable except for the fact that it cuts through his brow.
Race: Caucasian - Scottish
Skin Tone: Fair
Body Type: Athletic
Clothing Style: Denim and Leather
Footwear: Boots

Summary:
Nick has the appearance of a wanderer. His hair seems unmanaged and dirty, and he has the build of someone who works for himself. He is tall and muscled and has a noble face, though this beauty is ruined by his hair. Usually donning blue jeans and a mixture of shirt and jacket, along with any weapon he might be carrying, he is a modern day warrior. Despite his appearance, he does have an air of personality about him that makes him approachable. However, he can still give a stare to freeze water.

Wolf Appearance;;

Eye Color: Blue
Fur Color: Dark Brown
Fur Length: Long
Fur Texture: Thick and messy, much like his hair in human form.
Size: Eight feet tall and built like a mountain.
Marks: The scar on his face is much more noticeable in wolf form. It grows and stretches, becoming a terrible mark of war.

Personality;;

Likes:
1. Lycans
2. Eating and Drinking
3. Fighting

Dislikes:
1. Cowards
2. Idiots
3. People who think they are high and mighty

Flaws:
1. Quick to anger
2. Alcoholic
3. Enjoys pissing people off

Summary:
Born and raised around Lycans, Nick prefers their company to regular humans and others. Also, he thoroughly enjoys feasting and parties, especially if he can feast at a party. Also, though he is in no way a brutal man, he enjoys fighting. Raised to despise cowardice, Nick hates cowards, though he is not so stupid as to judge anyone who wont fight a coward. Also, through his education, he has grown to dislike idiots and those who believe themselves greater than others. This is slightly hypocritical, as Nick likes to show how he is better than others. He is quick to anger, and even quicker to anger when drunk.

Background Check;;

Family Members:
Sir Nicolas Scott-Wallace the First and Eliza Scott-Wallace [Grandparents]
Sir Nicolas Scott-Wallace the Second and Terra Scott-Wallace [Parents]
Birth Place: Scotland, of course!
Childhood: Turned into Werewolf at extremely young age and raised by wolf pack since birth. For first twenty years of life he was raised by the pack, and afterwards was raised specifically by his father and grandfather.
Transformation: Was born from a Werewolf who was born from a Werewolf who was born from a Werewolf. Despite all this, was still not officially ‘turned’ until two years of age. Despite this, he still seemed to age until reaching his early twenties.
Prey: Humans, Animals and even other Werewolves. Hates the taste of Vampire, though.
Moon Tidings: Initially could only change in sight of the moon, but over time has mastered his transformation so he can change at will. Still, despite this, when he is in sight of the full moon he becomes bloodthirsty and is far more dangerous. He also becomes larger and his hair is a shade darker, with his fangs protruding from his mouth.
Other Transformation: The only way a Scott-Wallace can turn someone is by mixing their blood with the person they intend to turn. As such, every person turned by a Scott-Wallace becomes a Scott-Wallace.
History in Brief:
The Scott-Wallace Clan has a long and rich history leading all the way back into the middle ages, when Joshua Scott and Jonathan Wallace decided to form their own wolf pack. Taking on the names of the founders, the Scott-Wallaces were formed. Those directly related to Joshua and Jonathan were ‘royalty’, such as Sir Nicolas Scott-Wallace the First through the Third.

Sir Nicolas Scott-Wallace the Third was born some time between 1760 and 1780 in Scotland. For the first twenty years of his life he was raised by the ‘pack’, which was his family and anyone ever turned by his family. Despite being ‘royalty’, he had no specific privileges and was treated harshly. Later in life when he asked his father why this was so, he was told this was because he needed to feel what it was like to not be the Alpha Wolf, for if he ever was to become the Alpha Wolf he would need to be strong enough to keep the title.

Despite being born to a family of Werewolves, Nick was not born a Werewolf. He was officially turned at the age of three, though this did not halt his growth. A mere pup, he was taught the arts of war and life by both those ruthless and those pure. The clan was made up mostly of warriors who had fought in everything from wars to riots, men who appreciated a good fight and were baptized in blood. Though he did enjoy fighting, Nick was not particularly bloodthirsty, and so was given the nickname of ‘Mungo’, or someone gentle.

There were rarely power struggles amongst the Scott-Wallace clan, but when there was a small civil war would break out. There was one particularly bloody conflict that caused the clan to split into two, with the Scott-Wallace half of the clan relocating to the country of America, which was a fresh and newly formed country at the time. It was then decided that, in order to hide themselves from those which would seek their destruction (hunters} that the clan would split and integrate themselves into the American society. As such, the wolf pack Nick had grown up with was split and he was forced to fend for himself.

However, Nick was not completely alone. He was taken under the arm of his father, a man who stressed brain over brawn. Over the next two hundred years, Nick was taught by his father morals and knowledge. Even though the two were not always together, and that Nick was often caught up in conflicts, {American Civil War, World Wars I and II} the teaching never really ended.

Nick learned how to fight in all manners of ways, from the tooth-and-claw he was raised on to the rifle and bayonet of the American Civil War to the monstrosities of World War I and II to modern ways of fighting. He was an avid fighter and friend, though he made sure never to stand out enough so as to warrant worry. As he watched friends and enemies alike die of old age, and the world around him change. He learned to adapt, though he never lost sight of his roots, mostly because he was reminded of them often by his father and grandfather.

He was originally a fighter, but one cannot live off of fighting in this time and age. As such, Nick drifts from place-to-place doing whatever he can to survive. He still keeps in contact with the wolf pack, but he does not rely on them for his entirety. Once a year the wolf pack meets in New York, where Nick has decided to take up residence, and that once a year is when he sees everyone. Otherwise, Nick spends his time just surviving and drifting through the world.


Code Word:
poof the magic fairy baby

Mad Skills;;

[From a totally different board]
Nail was relatively respected amongst the Cult. As far as Assassin’s were concerned, he was a skilled friend and ally. Sorcerers also liked him for his Force Cloak skill. The Marauders, on the other hand, weren’t too fond of Nail. He had an unusual style of fighting and an even more unusual lightsaber which, when applied appropriately, caused some seriously unexpected moves. Marauders didn’t like that and REALLY didn’t like being beaten by it. He wasn’t the best lightsaber-to-lightsaber fighter around, but Nail’s technique usually caught them off-guard, so he had his fair share of wins. It never came to blood, though. Marauders were stupid, but not that stupid. Of course, there was the occasional black sheep…

Nail sat meditating within his chambers at the Sith Academy, his armor and body laced with sweat. The muscles in his face were tense and his eyebrows almost met, but their was an odd calm about him. Slowly, a small whirlwind began to form around Nail. It picked up in speed and brought sweat to Nail’s cheek, but was suddenly cut off by the sliding of his door. His concentration broke and the whirlwind died as Nail stood up to his feet. He sensed who it was and smirked as the woman came into his view. “Kaleen,” Nail began emptily, “what brings you here?”

Kaleen was a six-foot Cathar Marauder, and not Nail’s friend by a long shot. She was a well-formed woman but was muscled heavily, bringing an almost grotesque twist to her feline beauty. She had a black Mohawk and wore somewhat revealing black clothing, but the most menacing of her attire were her two lightsabers hanging from either hip. “I want a re-match, Nail. You cheated last time!” The angry pulsated through her aura and eyes, but she kept a moderately reserved stature.

The Champion’s smirk disappeared. “There is no cheating in battle, I thought Marauders knew that. Or are you too busy licking your wounds to remember basic teachings, Cathar?” Kaleen’s face twisted into an angry glare as a lightsaber flew to her hand. Though she was only an Aspirant, she showed great potential, and the drawing of a lightsaber was a threat only amplified in her hands. She took two steps forward and was halted by the cold the Nagai before her gave her. “Ignite that lightsaber, Kaleen. I’ll take bliss in ending you.” She moved like she was going to take another step but didn’t, only growing and sliding her lightsaber back onto her belt. She pointed a finger at Nail and roared “You and me, Nail! Thirty minutes in the training room. We’ll settle this once and for all, understood?!” He didn’t speak, but his eyes told her to bring it on.

The worst thing about Cult duels was that there were usually people present. Needless to say, there were a fair share of Assassins and Marauders there, and plenty of backhand bets to make sure the fight was watched. The rules were laid down from the start: No killing and no poking in the eyes. Nail and Kaleen stood a good forty feet from one another with Cultists lining the walls ten feet behind either of them. The floor was cleared out and the ceiling was about thirty feet above them. Nail held his lightsaber hilt upside down in his left hand with the chain of it in his right hand; Kaleen held both of her hilts. The fight began with them just staring at each other, getting attuned with one another. Most force user battles ended up a matter of concentration and patience, so they got a good feel on each other.

Kaleen’s lightsabers hissed to form two red blades and she leapt towards Nail. He readjusted his weight behind him and took a step backwards before placing his lightsaber in front of him and igniting its silver blade. He then tossed it out in front of him towards the Marauder, who swatted it away with one of her blades and continued her collision course with Nail. He jerked back on the chain of his lightsaber and had the hilt smack into the back of her head vertically before he flipped over her, his blade spinning around rapidly with his body movements.

When he landed he caught it by the hilt and let go of the chain. Kaleen caught herself and spun around, closing the distance and making a wide arc above her with one of her blades, the other following close behind it. Nail held up his silver blade above him and caught them both, then spun around and aimed a kick towards her head. She caught his ankle with her arm and wrapped her left arm around it, then spun her lightsaber so as to catch his middle with it. Nail caught that blade with his and jerked his foot back towards him, bringing them both to the ground for half a second. However, Kaleen was quicker than Nail and caught him while he was just getting up, his lightsaber lying on the ground by her feet. Her blades rested on either side of his head, ready to decapitate in an instant. She smiled and growled, “Ready to give up, Nail?” Some of the younger Cultists screamed with admiration for the Marauder, but some of the older ones held their breath.

Suddenly, Nail disappeared and Kaleen made the motion to decapitate him. She looked around wildly to find him, but he was completely gone, his force signature disappearing too. She jerked around frustrated and made a few wild swings. “Where are you, Shai? I know you’re here; I don’t smell your blood!” There was silence to her answer, but suddenly Nail’s lightsaber deactivated and floated up off of the ground. She began to swing in its area, but the blade moved and danced around the room. Nail’s laughter began to fill the room and the Cathar followed the hilt closely. The chain tightened and the blade activated, bringing the Cathar’s blades up to defend her from above and the side. Suddenly Nail appeared behind her and wrapped her arm around her throat, his right hand grabbing onto the back of her head and streaming Force Lightning into her body. Her body convulsed, her lightsabers dropped to the ground, and her eyes rolled up into the back of her head. Nail let go of her and her body dropped to the ground, her body limp but her life still intact. Nail walked over to his lightsaber and picked it up, his gaze met by a few smiling faces and a few angry faces. Credits exchanged hands as Nail left the training room, his honor still intact and his foe in a coma.