Post by Netreemic on Mar 16, 2009 19:20:20 GMT -6
Name: Jökuln (though you’ll never hear him use this) Goes by Jören (silentish e) or Jöre (more obvious e). Or just plain Jö.
Age: he’s been around~
Gender: Male (currently)
Species: Capiorcorpus…hehe bodysnatcher~<3
Appearance: Depends on who or what he’s in~ Recently he’s 5’6’’, slightly stocky, wavy chin/shoulder length blonde hair normally tied back or hastily braided, hazel eyes. Comfortable clothing of generic quality. All around human looking, but there is something empty to his presence.
Personality: He’s a cautious creature, but warms up well if he figures you can’t (or won’t) hurt him. Has no care for life, except his own, which often makes nasty situations when he feels at risk. Often assured of himself, he’s easy to anger if you find holes in his arguments or hit too close to home on a touchy subject. Strangely enough, has a surviving sense of humor in there despite everything he’s lived through. Leans more towards the -inity of what gender he currently is, but actions overall have no specific regard to gender. But under it all, he’s still just a kid.
Likes: Well populated areas, action flicks, figuring out how things work, all those things in life that make you feel alive and get the adrenaline pumping. Still has affinity for cold weather.
Dislikes: The thought of his own death, being stuck in one place for too long, fire.
Strengths: Body hopper, so he can plug himself into bodies within eyesight (and I mean ANY body…though, he goes a little off when spending too much time in animals). Touching or eye contact with the new host body always makes it easier, but he’s had some time to work on his skill to get around what could be a terrible handicap. Shoves out the victims conscious entirely, thus killing them for all purposes. He has also researched many types of necromancy (mostly to stop anyone from yanking HIM out) so he can reanimate corpses, dig around in dead people’s brains, etc but he mostly sticks to flight over fight, having found necro-actions attract angry mobs. Also has a hand in medical knowledge for the upkeep of his bodies and getting the best mileage out of them and emergencies.
Weaknesses: Childish at times. Arrogance and defensiveness often provoke him to stupid or under planned actions. Serious threats on his life make him turn tail (he can take slightly more damage than a normal person, but only if he has been in that body for a good deal of time to toughen it up) but can go rabid/slasher crazy to wriggle way out of bad situation, which often leaves him worn out and vulnerable. He’s a bit of a claustrophobe as well, mainly if it is just him in the tiny space.
History: His mother was his father’s recent acquisition, result of peace treaties. She was, politely, an odd woman, distant and absent minded. His birth was about the only thing she was interested enough in, absolutely ignoring her stepchildren. On his birth, seeing his fluffy white locks and piercing blue eyes she said he would be her little man-eater. She named him for the glaciers (jokull) and the giants (Jötunn). She disappeared three years later and his layer of protection was removed, leaving him prey to his siblings. Shorter than even his sisters, they considered him easy pickings and tormented him mercilessly, sometimes dangerously so. The next ten years passed, constant wars rekindled by the peace broken by his mother’s disappearance. Generally a failure in battle (hey, he was only thirteen) he was never considered a real warrior, and seeing no future for his strange runtish child, his father made arrangements for his guards to abandon him during the fight. The next day, all he knew was the terror of sword grinding through his ribs and the vibrant green color of his murderer’s eyes. Then he woke up in the arms of a woman treating his sever head wound…in the body of his murderer in the enemy camp. He was clearly a man of some importance, because they swept him off to the war council where, still dazed from the switch and head wound, he blearily told them they were stupid if they hadn’t seen the weaknesses in the “great northern warriors” and proceeded to fill them in. It was his childish call for attention, helped by his confusion, and it was his family’s downfall. They were eradicated within three days. And he ran. Ran as far away as he could, wearing the body out to its last strings, stealing his way into new bodies, forever trying to escape death. Valhalla, his father had told him, was where the brave lived forever, so…where did that leave him?
RP Sample: Kinda a WIP down here…still doesn’t flow well enough...mergh. I'm actually starting to hate this. But I'm just really angry this week so~
[previous body]
Stretching his arms out, he reveled in the fluid motions. He had clearly spent too much time in that decaying old crone, hiding from the hunters in this house of sickness. He shuddered at the memory. He’d chugged so many drugs into that corpse to keep it functional, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
And then a battered and bruised priest came into his hospital. Silly man, taxed to the end of his resources, none of his church buddies to back him up. Jören ran broad hands through salt’n’pepper hair, laughter rumbling in his chest. Ever so often, they would feel the need to send their ilk after him, stop the elusive man-eater. You’d think they’d learn.
He shoved his hands into his worn jeans pockets and jerked one right back out at the smarting pain. Tsking lightly at himself, he pulled at the pocket lining, keeping his fingers away from the tiny crucifix. Must have had some serious belief, this one, for it to still retain the power. Oh well. The guy was dead now. He kicked it under a med cart and ambled his way through the sterile halls, rifling his way through the upper levels of memory. He’d been waiting to get one of their members, needing to see how much they’d updated his folder. Though, strangely enough, it didn’t seem like he’d been this man’s target. He pursed his lips, slightly insulted. The man had been looking for someone…Jören grasped at the fading images. Blast.
Well, might as well start with the strongest energy source in the hospital and go from there. He knew it would be best to leave, but this was too fun of a puzzle to let go. He paused in front of the stairwell, considering his options. Down didn’t feel any different from the floor he was on, but up…up felt like the ancient trees, that deep strength…almost like it was able to fill the void he created. His stolen heart pounded. It…it felt…nice. More than nice. Hand resting shakily on the rail, he slowly ascended the stairs.
“Blue….his blood is BLUE Ted. And his recovery is amazing, I’ve never seen anything like it.” There was a laugh before another voice replied, “What, didn’t you watch X-Men? Wolverine woulda been up and running five hours sooner that that guy~ Marcy, get over it. It’s not like we’re dealing with mutants…he probably was a lot less hurt than he acted. And you know what kinda of weird things people do to themselves nowadays. Now, just go home and get some sleep, don’t need you getting a review for crazy talk.” Abashed mumbling was exchanged and then the squeak of sneakers retreated down the hall, most likely towards another stairwell. He poked his head around the corner, senses tingling, pulling him to the left.
“Sir?” He flinched at the sound and ripped his eyes off the doorway he so very wanted to enter. “Visiting hours are over. I’m going to have to- oh wow…are you okay? Those are some big bruises.” The orderly cautiously stepped away from his computer and pile of clipboards. Jören’s mind raced, searching for a reason.
He touched his head as though in pain, surreptitiously glancing at the notes by the door. Ha! ‘Male - Suspected car accident.’ Looks like someone had tried to make him a hood ornament. “But it took me so long to find him…I’ve been to so many hospitals. I have to know if he’s okay.” He pinned the orderly with his stare, absently wondering how swollen his eye was.
“Oh wow, do you actually know who he is?! We couldn’t find any identification on him. It’s terrorizing to not know his medical allergies.” He gestured towards the door, normal security measures abandoned in the face of naming the mysterious patient. Jören nodded politely and ducked into the room. “So, is it who you were expecting? It’d really help.”
A man lay on the sterile sheets, skin a strong contrast to the pale cloth. Bandages wrapped around his chest and shoulder, heart monitor clipped onto a thin finger, braced arm resting on top of the sheets. One ruddy brown eye flickered open, sunken and tired. Then the man was a sudden flurry of erratic struggling, myriad of Velcro straps keeping him from escaping the bed. Puffs of fire scorched the linens around his bound hands and hatred blazed from his entire being. Jören sucked in a terrified breath, snatched the orderly’s pen out of his front pocket and jerked it across the young man’s throat. Ducking behind the jerking man, the body thief sunk the pen into the twitching spinal column, gaining control over the newly created human shield. “Came to finish it Father??! Felt the fucking car wasn’t…enough…” Jören peeked around the…uh…reanimated orderly, curious despite himself as the raging snarls died. “Father Harrison…did…did you just…” He watched the Velcro’d man try to sit up straighter to get a better look. “You aren’t him. You look like him…but you aren’t.” Twitching the pen, the orderly embarrassedly shuffled his feet and scratched his ear, blood still oozing from his fatal neck wound.
“Well…nooooooo…no I’m not. Father Harrison eh? Thought he was after me.” A breathy laugh wheezed out. “You’re not going to try attacking me again, are you? Kinda fraying my nerves here.” The two stared at each other, the man on the bed clearly trying to figure out the strange being that wandered into his life, wearing the meat suit of his nemesis no less. Relief coursed through Jören as the other slumped back onto the pillows, weariness etched across his features.
“No. Thanks for getting him off my back I suppose.” The undamaged arm jerked weakly against the restraints. “I’ll forget I ever saw you etc. Now, I need to get some rest before the next one crops up…don’t know why you came looking for me, but you probably should disappear before then.” The snatcher frowned at the undertone of defeat in the dark man’s voice, hating the idea of those bastards wiping out the mystery before he got to the bottom of it…or the pleasant feeling…the sense of…whatever it was. Besides, he didn’t WANT to be forgotten…too much like dying. Focusing energy, he slapped the back of the dead orderly in time with the beeps from heart monitor, smiling in reassurance at the other. “No. I’m gonna get you out of here. Just lay off the pyrotechnics. C’mon Ted, we’ve got make you look pretty before we go medical supply shopping and check our friend out.”
Age: he’s been around~
Gender: Male (currently)
Species: Capiorcorpus…hehe bodysnatcher~<3
Appearance: Depends on who or what he’s in~ Recently he’s 5’6’’, slightly stocky, wavy chin/shoulder length blonde hair normally tied back or hastily braided, hazel eyes. Comfortable clothing of generic quality. All around human looking, but there is something empty to his presence.
Personality: He’s a cautious creature, but warms up well if he figures you can’t (or won’t) hurt him. Has no care for life, except his own, which often makes nasty situations when he feels at risk. Often assured of himself, he’s easy to anger if you find holes in his arguments or hit too close to home on a touchy subject. Strangely enough, has a surviving sense of humor in there despite everything he’s lived through. Leans more towards the -inity of what gender he currently is, but actions overall have no specific regard to gender. But under it all, he’s still just a kid.
Likes: Well populated areas, action flicks, figuring out how things work, all those things in life that make you feel alive and get the adrenaline pumping. Still has affinity for cold weather.
Dislikes: The thought of his own death, being stuck in one place for too long, fire.
Strengths: Body hopper, so he can plug himself into bodies within eyesight (and I mean ANY body…though, he goes a little off when spending too much time in animals). Touching or eye contact with the new host body always makes it easier, but he’s had some time to work on his skill to get around what could be a terrible handicap. Shoves out the victims conscious entirely, thus killing them for all purposes. He has also researched many types of necromancy (mostly to stop anyone from yanking HIM out) so he can reanimate corpses, dig around in dead people’s brains, etc but he mostly sticks to flight over fight, having found necro-actions attract angry mobs. Also has a hand in medical knowledge for the upkeep of his bodies and getting the best mileage out of them and emergencies.
Weaknesses: Childish at times. Arrogance and defensiveness often provoke him to stupid or under planned actions. Serious threats on his life make him turn tail (he can take slightly more damage than a normal person, but only if he has been in that body for a good deal of time to toughen it up) but can go rabid/slasher crazy to wriggle way out of bad situation, which often leaves him worn out and vulnerable. He’s a bit of a claustrophobe as well, mainly if it is just him in the tiny space.
History: His mother was his father’s recent acquisition, result of peace treaties. She was, politely, an odd woman, distant and absent minded. His birth was about the only thing she was interested enough in, absolutely ignoring her stepchildren. On his birth, seeing his fluffy white locks and piercing blue eyes she said he would be her little man-eater. She named him for the glaciers (jokull) and the giants (Jötunn). She disappeared three years later and his layer of protection was removed, leaving him prey to his siblings. Shorter than even his sisters, they considered him easy pickings and tormented him mercilessly, sometimes dangerously so. The next ten years passed, constant wars rekindled by the peace broken by his mother’s disappearance. Generally a failure in battle (hey, he was only thirteen) he was never considered a real warrior, and seeing no future for his strange runtish child, his father made arrangements for his guards to abandon him during the fight. The next day, all he knew was the terror of sword grinding through his ribs and the vibrant green color of his murderer’s eyes. Then he woke up in the arms of a woman treating his sever head wound…in the body of his murderer in the enemy camp. He was clearly a man of some importance, because they swept him off to the war council where, still dazed from the switch and head wound, he blearily told them they were stupid if they hadn’t seen the weaknesses in the “great northern warriors” and proceeded to fill them in. It was his childish call for attention, helped by his confusion, and it was his family’s downfall. They were eradicated within three days. And he ran. Ran as far away as he could, wearing the body out to its last strings, stealing his way into new bodies, forever trying to escape death. Valhalla, his father had told him, was where the brave lived forever, so…where did that leave him?
RP Sample: Kinda a WIP down here…still doesn’t flow well enough...mergh. I'm actually starting to hate this. But I'm just really angry this week so~
[previous body]
Stretching his arms out, he reveled in the fluid motions. He had clearly spent too much time in that decaying old crone, hiding from the hunters in this house of sickness. He shuddered at the memory. He’d chugged so many drugs into that corpse to keep it functional, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
And then a battered and bruised priest came into his hospital. Silly man, taxed to the end of his resources, none of his church buddies to back him up. Jören ran broad hands through salt’n’pepper hair, laughter rumbling in his chest. Ever so often, they would feel the need to send their ilk after him, stop the elusive man-eater. You’d think they’d learn.
He shoved his hands into his worn jeans pockets and jerked one right back out at the smarting pain. Tsking lightly at himself, he pulled at the pocket lining, keeping his fingers away from the tiny crucifix. Must have had some serious belief, this one, for it to still retain the power. Oh well. The guy was dead now. He kicked it under a med cart and ambled his way through the sterile halls, rifling his way through the upper levels of memory. He’d been waiting to get one of their members, needing to see how much they’d updated his folder. Though, strangely enough, it didn’t seem like he’d been this man’s target. He pursed his lips, slightly insulted. The man had been looking for someone…Jören grasped at the fading images. Blast.
Well, might as well start with the strongest energy source in the hospital and go from there. He knew it would be best to leave, but this was too fun of a puzzle to let go. He paused in front of the stairwell, considering his options. Down didn’t feel any different from the floor he was on, but up…up felt like the ancient trees, that deep strength…almost like it was able to fill the void he created. His stolen heart pounded. It…it felt…nice. More than nice. Hand resting shakily on the rail, he slowly ascended the stairs.
“Blue….his blood is BLUE Ted. And his recovery is amazing, I’ve never seen anything like it.” There was a laugh before another voice replied, “What, didn’t you watch X-Men? Wolverine woulda been up and running five hours sooner that that guy~ Marcy, get over it. It’s not like we’re dealing with mutants…he probably was a lot less hurt than he acted. And you know what kinda of weird things people do to themselves nowadays. Now, just go home and get some sleep, don’t need you getting a review for crazy talk.” Abashed mumbling was exchanged and then the squeak of sneakers retreated down the hall, most likely towards another stairwell. He poked his head around the corner, senses tingling, pulling him to the left.
“Sir?” He flinched at the sound and ripped his eyes off the doorway he so very wanted to enter. “Visiting hours are over. I’m going to have to- oh wow…are you okay? Those are some big bruises.” The orderly cautiously stepped away from his computer and pile of clipboards. Jören’s mind raced, searching for a reason.
He touched his head as though in pain, surreptitiously glancing at the notes by the door. Ha! ‘Male - Suspected car accident.’ Looks like someone had tried to make him a hood ornament. “But it took me so long to find him…I’ve been to so many hospitals. I have to know if he’s okay.” He pinned the orderly with his stare, absently wondering how swollen his eye was.
“Oh wow, do you actually know who he is?! We couldn’t find any identification on him. It’s terrorizing to not know his medical allergies.” He gestured towards the door, normal security measures abandoned in the face of naming the mysterious patient. Jören nodded politely and ducked into the room. “So, is it who you were expecting? It’d really help.”
A man lay on the sterile sheets, skin a strong contrast to the pale cloth. Bandages wrapped around his chest and shoulder, heart monitor clipped onto a thin finger, braced arm resting on top of the sheets. One ruddy brown eye flickered open, sunken and tired. Then the man was a sudden flurry of erratic struggling, myriad of Velcro straps keeping him from escaping the bed. Puffs of fire scorched the linens around his bound hands and hatred blazed from his entire being. Jören sucked in a terrified breath, snatched the orderly’s pen out of his front pocket and jerked it across the young man’s throat. Ducking behind the jerking man, the body thief sunk the pen into the twitching spinal column, gaining control over the newly created human shield. “Came to finish it Father??! Felt the fucking car wasn’t…enough…” Jören peeked around the…uh…reanimated orderly, curious despite himself as the raging snarls died. “Father Harrison…did…did you just…” He watched the Velcro’d man try to sit up straighter to get a better look. “You aren’t him. You look like him…but you aren’t.” Twitching the pen, the orderly embarrassedly shuffled his feet and scratched his ear, blood still oozing from his fatal neck wound.
“Well…nooooooo…no I’m not. Father Harrison eh? Thought he was after me.” A breathy laugh wheezed out. “You’re not going to try attacking me again, are you? Kinda fraying my nerves here.” The two stared at each other, the man on the bed clearly trying to figure out the strange being that wandered into his life, wearing the meat suit of his nemesis no less. Relief coursed through Jören as the other slumped back onto the pillows, weariness etched across his features.
“No. Thanks for getting him off my back I suppose.” The undamaged arm jerked weakly against the restraints. “I’ll forget I ever saw you etc. Now, I need to get some rest before the next one crops up…don’t know why you came looking for me, but you probably should disappear before then.” The snatcher frowned at the undertone of defeat in the dark man’s voice, hating the idea of those bastards wiping out the mystery before he got to the bottom of it…or the pleasant feeling…the sense of…whatever it was. Besides, he didn’t WANT to be forgotten…too much like dying. Focusing energy, he slapped the back of the dead orderly in time with the beeps from heart monitor, smiling in reassurance at the other. “No. I’m gonna get you out of here. Just lay off the pyrotechnics. C’mon Ted, we’ve got make you look pretty before we go medical supply shopping and check our friend out.”