Title: HOLLAND, gabriel michael
Gabriel Michael Holland - July 20, 2007 04:25 PM (GMT)
__++hello. my name is…
name/nickname:: casey
age:: sixteen
experience:: uhhh, a little over four years, i think
other characters here:: --
__++you can call me…
&&__basic information
full name:: gabriel michael holland
nickname(s):: do not call him gabe. it's gabriel, 24/7. the only person allowed to call him gabe is kella, but even then it’s reaching.
birthdate:: november 7, 1769
age:: 246 and counting
ethnicity:: English
orientation:: heterosexual
species:: vampire
belongs too:: meutrier coven
title:: leader’s body guard
&&__physical description
height:: 6’1
weight:: 179
eye color:: silver
hair color:: blonde
body type:: thin, but strappingly muscular
distinguishing marks:: “I have a scar, just over the bridge of my nose, from when I was a little boy. Another child threw a stone at me, splitting the skin wide open. Needless to say, he soon came to regret that. On a different tangent, I have a total of two tattoos, accumulated over my extensive time on this ball of dust. Surprisingly, both of them were branded onto my skin within the last century. Those must’ve been extreme lapses in my mental capacity for me to do something that bizarre and asinine. The very first was… seventy years ago, was it? It was the words ‘kyrie eleison’ {Latin for ‘God have mercy’} in old Gothic font across the underside of my left wrist. Not very exciting. Fortunately, the second was slightly more creative. This one I got twenty years ago. I think. I seemed to have started losing track of the years after my 100th birthday. Anyway, what was I talking about? Ah, the second tattoo. This one I prefer over the first. I chose to put it on my back, so I don’t see it very often. It pictures a pair of demons, one half-way down my back, the other just over my right shoulder. They appear to be chasing each other, due to the streaks of motion trailing behind them. I was satisfied with that one, but the entire idea of tattoos displeases me. I can’t imagine what had been on my mind at the times I got both of them.””
dress style:: “I’m rarely seen in anything but a suit. I don’t dress casually. It’s not my thing. Casual for me is dress clothes without the suit coat. All of my suits are tailored {none of that cheap shit} and fit well. I’m a meticulous dresser.”
portrayal:: Paul Bettany
picture::
&&__personality test
likes::
general description::
&&__battle royale
artillary:: “I don’t use guns on a regular basis, but when push comes to shove I generally have my Ruger on hand. Black, .9mm, not a bad gun. But I don’t like guns, as you’ve already heard. They’re… tacky.”
swordsmanship:: “If I have a choice to use a weapon, I’ll no doubt choose the knives. I have a set of knives on my person at all times, used for throwing or face-to-face stabbing. I’m excellent at throwing daggers, though I can hardly brag about stabbing someone up close. Even the damn village idiot could manage that.”
martial arts:: “No, I’ve always been more of the type for street fighting.”
combat:: “Being good in hand-to-hand combat is sort of a requirement for my line of work. I’m extraordinary in a fight, half due to my Vampire blood, and half to years of fighting. It’s been a century or more since the last time I was beat in a fight.”
&&__family history
father’s name:: nicholas holland
mother’s name:: elle holland
sibling’s name:: lucas holland
general history::
&&__proving your worth
role-playing sample:: The algebra room was always cold, freezing even. Everyone knew this. This could, in accordance to Mirana Mercy’s logic, be contributed to one of two factors. Option one: the maintenance crew of the school was getting slap happy with the AC and thus attempting to freeze them out. Option two: an extraordinary evil dwelled on the other side of the door. The second, while largely considered paranoia, seemed the most likely in Mira’s opinion. State the facts. One, math was evil. Two, formal education was evil. And three, the algebra teacher was evil. So her logic won over by best case presented. The air conditioning theory was weak in comparison. Anyone with enough sense, or rather, hatred of formal education, could see that this much was true. But Mira had found that not many people shared her opinion of algebra. Or the three people she’d polled before she’d gotten bored with the whole experiment. Mira’s bad mood began like this:
It was 11:34 and a handful of seconds and Mira was in Algebra. She was daydreaming. And not that normal daydreaming, where you could still partly comprehend what was going on. No, that was kid stuff compared to where she was. Her mind was two plotlines away and further, leafing through thoughts most people had never dreamed of. Her eyes, treading in and out of focus, remained locked on the window that sat perched in the wall, only inches from where she sat. She didn’t see what lay beyond it though. She was, instead, watching the projector behind her eyes, playing all of her thoughts and whimsies on fast forward. This wasn’t some unusual occurrence though. Of course not. Her mind slipped into the pages every time she stepped through the Algebra door. Pissed the teacher off, that it did, but it wasn’t like anyone was paying any particular attention to what she was saying.
So, on a regular basis, this wandering of the mind would only present itself as a problem on tests. Unless she let herself go really far away. Her abilities required a marginal amount of mental control, or else they completely ran free. And then they were all in trouble. But for some reason, on that idle Thursday mid-morning, Mira let herself go. Thankfully, the release was only slight, and interrupted very early, so the damage was minimal. But there was damage all the same. Had the damage been subtle, it would’ve been easy to write off and forget, but unfortunately for her, her lapse was equipped with sound effects. One moment she was considering a shocking picture she’d seen taken by Diane Arbus, and the next there was a loud crack. The sound shocked several of the students into action, and jumps and twitches resonated throughout the room. Everyone turned towards the window, including Mira, who was equally perplexed. She knew immediately what had happened, though everyone else was still at a loss for meaning. The teacher, that cow, approached the window, and Mirana kept silent. Maybe she would be overlooked and the broken window would be considered a freak accident of nature. Yeah right.
It was obvious that Mira was the one who had done it. After all, how often is it that a vine of Poison Ivy attempts to snake through a pane of glass towards a particular student? It could hardly be a coincidence when considering the ability of said student. And then the teacher had launched into a long, meaningless diatribe about the importance of controlling one’s mutation, and that she expected more of Mira as a level blue. Being naturally sharp tongued, the tall girl couldn’t resist lashing back. “Yes, and that’s why you’re teaching me algebra, isn’t it?” she said, knowing before she’d even said the words that she’d be sent to the headmistress’ office. And so she was. The teacher bade her to do so, and she rose and gathered her things among hoots and snickers to exit the room. It wasn’t as if it hadn’t happened before. She wasn’t really the type to keep her head down and avoid conflict, now was she? Pity. She didn’t particularly like the headmistress. She doubted the woman much liked her either. Not that she could be blamed for that. It was hardly saying much.
The meeting with the headmistress had been brief, uninteresting. It went the same nearly every time, so she’d come not to expect much from the woman. Mira had been given an afternoon of detention and they’d both gotten on with their lives. A glance at the clock confirmed the fact that that period would be ending soon anyway, so she didn’t bother to return. Rather, she pushed open the double doors leading out onto the lawn and she immediately knew where she was going. Elkwood Forest. Stupid name for so pretty a forest, she thought, her mood lightening as it always did when she was in direct sunlight. The sun had an infuriating way of ruining a perfectly good bad mood. I mean, sometimes she wanted to be mad. But not then, no. She found herself humming as she half-skipped, half-walked across the school grounds towards the towering trees of the forest.
It was said by the student body that if you went into the forest you’d never find your way out again. Complete bollocks, that was. It was perfectly easy to find the way back again. Just watch which trees you passed by and remember the pattern. Well, that was simple for her to say, seeing as she saw each one as unique. Most people considered all trees to look the same. Tragic. Mira passed the first tree of Elkwood forest, and the second, and third, and so on. Soon she was enveloped in trees and the sound of their moans as the wind disrupted them from their perpetual slumber. Finding a exceptionally pretty tree, Mira stalled, her index finger rising to her chin as she considered it in admiration. Then, without any semblance of hesitance, Mira looped her arm around one of the lower branches and pulled herself up, as easily as if she’d simply been mounting a flight of stairs.
So the eighteen year old girl picked her way through the branches, patting the base of the tree and chattering away as if she had never been happier. “I’ve always wondered,” she said, stopping with a hand on the branch above her head and a frown on her face, “What do you do during the day?” She paused, tilting her head slightly before her face brightened. “Oh yes,” she said, continuing on in her exploration of the tree, “That makes sense.” Had she not been as intimidating as she was, she surely would have been the butt of many jokes. Fortunately, she couldn’t care less.
member title:: close.your.EYES]]
name/nickname:: casey
age:: sixteen
experience:: uhhh, a little over four years, i think
other characters here:: --
__++you can call me…
&&__basic information
full name:: gabriel michael holland
nickname(s):: do not call him gabe. it's gabriel, 24/7. the only person allowed to call him gabe is kella, but even then it’s reaching.
birthdate:: november 7, 1769
age:: 246 and counting
ethnicity:: English
orientation:: heterosexual
species:: vampire
belongs too:: meutrier coven
title:: leader’s body guard
&&__physical description
height:: 6’1
weight:: 179
eye color:: silver
hair color:: blonde
body type:: thin, but strappingly muscular
distinguishing marks:: “I have a scar, just over the bridge of my nose, from when I was a little boy. Another child threw a stone at me, splitting the skin wide open. Needless to say, he soon came to regret that. On a different tangent, I have a total of two tattoos, accumulated over my extensive time on this ball of dust. Surprisingly, both of them were branded onto my skin within the last century. Those must’ve been extreme lapses in my mental capacity for me to do something that bizarre and asinine. The very first was… seventy years ago, was it? It was the words ‘kyrie eleison’ {Latin for ‘God have mercy’} in old Gothic font across the underside of my left wrist. Not very exciting. Fortunately, the second was slightly more creative. This one I got twenty years ago. I think. I seemed to have started losing track of the years after my 100th birthday. Anyway, what was I talking about? Ah, the second tattoo. This one I prefer over the first. I chose to put it on my back, so I don’t see it very often. It pictures a pair of demons, one half-way down my back, the other just over my right shoulder. They appear to be chasing each other, due to the streaks of motion trailing behind them. I was satisfied with that one, but the entire idea of tattoos displeases me. I can’t imagine what had been on my mind at the times I got both of them.””
dress style:: “I’m rarely seen in anything but a suit. I don’t dress casually. It’s not my thing. Casual for me is dress clothes without the suit coat. All of my suits are tailored {none of that cheap shit} and fit well. I’m a meticulous dresser.”
portrayal:: Paul Bettany
picture::
&&__personality test
likes::
- o:women
o:fast cars
o:smoking
o:london
o:foreign cigarettes
o:foreign women
o:linguists
o:armani suits
o:alcohol
o:hand-to-hand combat
o:killing
o:torture
o:blood
o:gore
o:etc.
o:the ocean {it’s the one thing he has respect for}
o:james bond movies {amusing}
o:reading mortal-written books on vampires {again, amusing}
o:mystery
o:reading
o:moonlight {though not the vile creatures that accompany it}
o:coven meetings {fun, fun, fun}
- o:werewolves, for the obvious reasons
o:humanity
o:docile people
o:mercy
o:anything that is too easy
o:misconceptions as to the nature of Vampires
o:TV
o:teenagers {in Vampire years}
o:Vampires who lose control of themselves {he won’t hesitate to kill them}
o:hurting women and children {okay, so a few of his morals are intact}
o:guns, but he uses them anyway
o:getting blood on his clothes
- o:smokes
o:curses on a regular basis
o:tends to ignore most comments directed at him
o:threatens nearly everyone he meets
o:
general description::
- “Let’s see, where to start. Well, being an age-old Vampire, I obviously adore blood. Ergo, I adore violence. The word ‘empathy’ is not in my vocabulary, and I don’t plan on adding it any time soon. I enjoy causing pain. ‘Sadistic’ is the word those humans would use for that. My family would call it ‘fun’. It’s funny how two different groups of people can look at a fact and get an entirely different interpretation. If I’m not in the mood for physical pain, I’ll settle for a little emotional or mental torment. I’ve always had a deep-rooted love for testing people. I’ll pull something unexpected and then wait to gauge the reaction I receive. I’ll probe anyone I meet to test their boundaries and limitations. It’s a rather interesting pastime, actually. It never gets old, because I never get the same reaction twice. Because of my little experiments with the human race, I’m a very good judge of people. Experience and a sharp eye grant me the talent of being able to judge someone very quickly. And unless they’re playing a game of their own, I’m never wrong.
“The slight drawback to my boundless curiosity is the sad fact that I’m very easily bored. No woman will ever satisfy me, unless she’s exactly like me. There must be constant mystery, or I’ll without doubt move on to something else. And I’ve got no tolerance for second chances. Once my good opinion is lost, it’s irretrievable. This has earned me the titles of ‘coldly indifferent’ and ‘arrogant’. I’ll agree with the coldly indifferent accusation. I’m a proud man, but I know when to admit something. Now, as for the arrogance, it’s strictly nonexistent. I’m not arrogant, and I refuse to agree with such claims. I know what I’m capable of, and I know what I’m good at. Why should I cover that up with the insincerity often known as modesty? I’m confident, if anything. Never arrogant. As you can obviously tell, I don’t do too well with other people. I’m what some would call a ‘user’. I have no necessity for other people and only use them to my own benefit. I’ve never been in love, so don’t even bring it up. Love is a figment of the imagination of men. Nothing more, nothing less. It's rare that I even accept someone as my friend. I have associates and acquaintances, not friends. There are few who’ve made it past my self-constructed barriers, but they are few in numbers.
“If you know anything about Vampires, you’re bound to have fun into the overly large crowd that feel bad for the sins they’ve committed. It’s so rampant in today’s culture, that the fact has all together become a cliché within itself. Extraordinarily pathetic. In spite of my tattoo begging mercy, I’ve never felt regret for my actions. ‘God have mercy’ {the tattoo on my wrist} is merely a mockery of every Vampire who’s sunk so low as to beg mercy from anyone. I have nothing against God, though. I know He exists and I’ve made peace with that fact. I don’t hate Him, and I don’t fear Him. There’s nothing He can do to me that hasn’t been done already. I respect Him of course, for everything He’s accomplished. Quite the elegant entity. While I respect Him, though, I have not a shred of homage for His miserable followers. Each of them has conniving ulterior motives and should be picked off of the Earth. So, when I’m bored, I bide my time with terrorizing the religious nation. Most of them aren’t true believers anyway. I would never touch a true believer, because I respect a person who can place complete faith in someone they have absolutely no proof exists. To that person, I bow out gracefully.
“Now, I made brief mention of the opposite sex, somewhere above, but I’ve merely touched on the subject. My knowledge of the female gender is well-developed, so I struggle on which point to begin. I enjoy the company of an interesting and generally pretty female. In fact, I’ve fallen quite in love with the entire species. There’s nothing like a woman, especially a passionate woman. I live, eat, breathe sex. There’s nothing like it. There may be some things better. There’s definitely things worse. But there’s nothing quite like it. Even though I generally don’t like to be opposed, I thoroughly enjoy a difficult female. I’ve no qualms against taking advantage of one, but the fight is often worth it.
“While I’m an extremely violent person, I’m never actually very angry. Though I’m quick to take revenge, I’m very slow to anger. I don’t blow a fuse over the little things, but I rarely let them slide. I’m nothing less than vindictive. I’ll take revenge simply because it’s a free opportunity to crush someone’s soul. Gah, I love that. Anyway, I don’t have a temper. The last time I was mad was when my father was killed, and that was nearly sixteen years ago. Before that it was when my mother was killed, and that was one hundred years ago. No, I haven’t got a temper.
“So… That wasn’t too complicated was it? Were there any bits in particular you wanted me to repeat?”
&&__battle royale
artillary:: “I don’t use guns on a regular basis, but when push comes to shove I generally have my Ruger on hand. Black, .9mm, not a bad gun. But I don’t like guns, as you’ve already heard. They’re… tacky.”
swordsmanship:: “If I have a choice to use a weapon, I’ll no doubt choose the knives. I have a set of knives on my person at all times, used for throwing or face-to-face stabbing. I’m excellent at throwing daggers, though I can hardly brag about stabbing someone up close. Even the damn village idiot could manage that.”
martial arts:: “No, I’ve always been more of the type for street fighting.”
combat:: “Being good in hand-to-hand combat is sort of a requirement for my line of work. I’m extraordinary in a fight, half due to my Vampire blood, and half to years of fighting. It’s been a century or more since the last time I was beat in a fight.”
&&__family history
father’s name:: nicholas holland
mother’s name:: elle holland
sibling’s name:: lucas holland
general history::
- x_born to nicholas and elle holland as a twin on november 7
x_raised in london, england by his very wealthy family
x_his father was a tyrant, his mother was spineless
x_when he was thirteen, his parents moved them to italy to live in an old citadel
x_gabriel was entered into the local monastery, as his parents planned on him being a monk
x_when he was fifteen, the citadel was raided by a dying coven; nearly everyone killed
x_young men and women, including some children, were taken captive, lucas and gabriel among them
x_they were kept in pens, as food for the vampires, and slowly their numbers dwindled
x_lucas and gabriel remained, with a handful of others who had yet to be killed
x_the coven’s hq was raided and taken over by another coven
x_rather than being killed, they turned the remaining humans, allowing them to join their ranks
x_gabriel did, but lucas left, horrorstricken at what had happened to him
x_centuries passed and gabriel grew into a vampire to be reckoned with
x_eventually, in light of the war between the races, the vampires split into two separate covens
x_gabriel joined meutrier and was made the sole body guard of the leader, seeing as he was older and more experienced than most others
x_and so it goes.
&&__proving your worth
role-playing sample:: The algebra room was always cold, freezing even. Everyone knew this. This could, in accordance to Mirana Mercy’s logic, be contributed to one of two factors. Option one: the maintenance crew of the school was getting slap happy with the AC and thus attempting to freeze them out. Option two: an extraordinary evil dwelled on the other side of the door. The second, while largely considered paranoia, seemed the most likely in Mira’s opinion. State the facts. One, math was evil. Two, formal education was evil. And three, the algebra teacher was evil. So her logic won over by best case presented. The air conditioning theory was weak in comparison. Anyone with enough sense, or rather, hatred of formal education, could see that this much was true. But Mira had found that not many people shared her opinion of algebra. Or the three people she’d polled before she’d gotten bored with the whole experiment. Mira’s bad mood began like this:
It was 11:34 and a handful of seconds and Mira was in Algebra. She was daydreaming. And not that normal daydreaming, where you could still partly comprehend what was going on. No, that was kid stuff compared to where she was. Her mind was two plotlines away and further, leafing through thoughts most people had never dreamed of. Her eyes, treading in and out of focus, remained locked on the window that sat perched in the wall, only inches from where she sat. She didn’t see what lay beyond it though. She was, instead, watching the projector behind her eyes, playing all of her thoughts and whimsies on fast forward. This wasn’t some unusual occurrence though. Of course not. Her mind slipped into the pages every time she stepped through the Algebra door. Pissed the teacher off, that it did, but it wasn’t like anyone was paying any particular attention to what she was saying.
So, on a regular basis, this wandering of the mind would only present itself as a problem on tests. Unless she let herself go really far away. Her abilities required a marginal amount of mental control, or else they completely ran free. And then they were all in trouble. But for some reason, on that idle Thursday mid-morning, Mira let herself go. Thankfully, the release was only slight, and interrupted very early, so the damage was minimal. But there was damage all the same. Had the damage been subtle, it would’ve been easy to write off and forget, but unfortunately for her, her lapse was equipped with sound effects. One moment she was considering a shocking picture she’d seen taken by Diane Arbus, and the next there was a loud crack. The sound shocked several of the students into action, and jumps and twitches resonated throughout the room. Everyone turned towards the window, including Mira, who was equally perplexed. She knew immediately what had happened, though everyone else was still at a loss for meaning. The teacher, that cow, approached the window, and Mirana kept silent. Maybe she would be overlooked and the broken window would be considered a freak accident of nature. Yeah right.
It was obvious that Mira was the one who had done it. After all, how often is it that a vine of Poison Ivy attempts to snake through a pane of glass towards a particular student? It could hardly be a coincidence when considering the ability of said student. And then the teacher had launched into a long, meaningless diatribe about the importance of controlling one’s mutation, and that she expected more of Mira as a level blue. Being naturally sharp tongued, the tall girl couldn’t resist lashing back. “Yes, and that’s why you’re teaching me algebra, isn’t it?” she said, knowing before she’d even said the words that she’d be sent to the headmistress’ office. And so she was. The teacher bade her to do so, and she rose and gathered her things among hoots and snickers to exit the room. It wasn’t as if it hadn’t happened before. She wasn’t really the type to keep her head down and avoid conflict, now was she? Pity. She didn’t particularly like the headmistress. She doubted the woman much liked her either. Not that she could be blamed for that. It was hardly saying much.
The meeting with the headmistress had been brief, uninteresting. It went the same nearly every time, so she’d come not to expect much from the woman. Mira had been given an afternoon of detention and they’d both gotten on with their lives. A glance at the clock confirmed the fact that that period would be ending soon anyway, so she didn’t bother to return. Rather, she pushed open the double doors leading out onto the lawn and she immediately knew where she was going. Elkwood Forest. Stupid name for so pretty a forest, she thought, her mood lightening as it always did when she was in direct sunlight. The sun had an infuriating way of ruining a perfectly good bad mood. I mean, sometimes she wanted to be mad. But not then, no. She found herself humming as she half-skipped, half-walked across the school grounds towards the towering trees of the forest.
It was said by the student body that if you went into the forest you’d never find your way out again. Complete bollocks, that was. It was perfectly easy to find the way back again. Just watch which trees you passed by and remember the pattern. Well, that was simple for her to say, seeing as she saw each one as unique. Most people considered all trees to look the same. Tragic. Mira passed the first tree of Elkwood forest, and the second, and third, and so on. Soon she was enveloped in trees and the sound of their moans as the wind disrupted them from their perpetual slumber. Finding a exceptionally pretty tree, Mira stalled, her index finger rising to her chin as she considered it in admiration. Then, without any semblance of hesitance, Mira looped her arm around one of the lower branches and pulled herself up, as easily as if she’d simply been mounting a flight of stairs.
So the eighteen year old girl picked her way through the branches, patting the base of the tree and chattering away as if she had never been happier. “I’ve always wondered,” she said, stopping with a hand on the branch above her head and a frown on her face, “What do you do during the day?” She paused, tilting her head slightly before her face brightened. “Oh yes,” she said, continuing on in her exploration of the tree, “That makes sense.” Had she not been as intimidating as she was, she surely would have been the butt of many jokes. Fortunately, she couldn’t care less.
member title:: close.your.EYES]]
erin - July 20, 2007 05:03 PM (GMT)
It is a magnificent profile - above and beyond.
APPROVED
Thanks for joining the site.
I hope you have fun.
APPROVED
Thanks for joining the site.
I hope you have fun.