Post by Adrian on Aug 15, 2010 4:56:15 GMT -5
Name: Adrian Nikahd
Age: 21
Birthday: March 21st, 1989
Gender: Male
Hometown: Shiraz, Iran
Face Claim: Rafi Gavron
Nationality: Iranian
Languages Spoken: Persian, Azeri, Kurdish, Arabic, French, English
Description: Adrian stands a solid 5'6" though you'd never notice because his personality tends to make him seem taller. His hair is either a tangled mess if he's being too lazy to do something with it, or shaved if he's decided to be lazy for months at a time. He enjoys the odd looks he used to get in his home town from the old biddies and the over zealous men living in among "God's Chosen People." Adrian used to travel a lot. He knew everyone thought they belonged to God and yet he found the same sins everywhere.
He'd never believed much in fighting the inevitable so you might as well join it. He tends to wear sun glasses to shield his eyes from the light and the headache it would cause thanks to his life of over indulgence and he wears beenies to keep his messy hair out of the way. He gets through life in jeans and some t-shirts, normally accented by necklaces and bracelets. Each one was supposed to mean something important but Adrian tended to lose them easily in his unacknowledged search for some deeper meaning in life.
Skills:
He can roll his own cigarettes no matter what he puts in them
He's a fire tech. A bit of a pyro, he knows how to set fires, control fires, put out fires and in all other ways control how a fire burns.
He can drive anything with wheels.
Personality: Adrian is a fun loving guy. He likes to party hard and doesn't pretend otherwise. If he shows up to a meeting late with his eyes still blurry from his hangover he doesn't much care and he doesn't expect anyone else to care either. He easily brushes their disapproving looks off and continues along with whatever no future job he'd taken to get by.
He has a certain dashing charm that attracts people to him when he's in a better mood (his mood normally improves when the sun goes down) and he never goes home to an empty bed if he doesn't want to, taking home men as easily as women when the mood strikes him. He doesn't really form a connection to either, nor has he ever fallen for anyone. His choice to include men in his search was just another way to rebel against the concepts of right and wrong he'd grown up with and what he sees as the hypocrisy of his country. Iran, as it liked to call itself now, had once been the seat of the Persian empire and there were certainly enough historical examples of boy sex slaves in their history and poetry to make the current moral standards laughable.
When alcohol is not flowing and he's not surrounded by a cloud of smoke he tends to be quiet and moody. Something plagues him but he's not sure what it is and he doesn't like to think about it too much, preferring to ignore the emptiness in his life by filling it with good music and beautiful young bodies, including his own, which he takes care of with a surprising diligence considering his general look of unkemptness.
Bio/History: Adrian was born in Shiraz and grew up there. The Iranian orphanage system is not the best place to spend one's childhood and you could be sure he escaped it when the invasion gave him all the excuse he needed.
Even then he attended school, switching schools when his teachers caught on to his homeless status and sought to send him back into the state's custody. Despite his varied and interrupted education Adrian managed to get good enough grades until his country shut down for good as the yeerks solidified their hold on the planet.
That's when he headed north for no particular reason at all. The yeerks were actually less concentrated farther south of him but he'd never had a desire to see Africa. Too many hardships there and he had enough of his own. He eventually made his way into what used to be France and fell in with an Irish gang that had fled their own homeland.
Eventually he was recruited by an animorph. He figured life with the resistance would be a bit more interesting than life anywhere else.
Starting Morphs:
Land: Red Fox
Bug: Black Fly
Other: Mockingbird
RP Sample: (Uh, I couldn't think of a scene with his parents since he's an orphan but this one shows what he was like before the RP)
Adrian turned on his computer, rubbing the sleep and slime out of his eyes. His hair stood up at every angle and he sat at the computer desk in his boxers, the room dim and the light it did contained tinged orange by his cheap curtains. He stretched and yawned, looking over his shoulder at the naked figure still passed out in his bed. He'd have to kick her out in a second but he wanted to check the small net the gang had managed to set up for any updates. He was pretty sure he wasn't on scavenge duty today but the boss had sworn to kick him out if he was late one more time. Not that he cared much except that it was an unnecessary hassle to hunt for a better group and he didn't want to cut back on anything.
He lit a cigarette as he waited for the laptop to warm up and swallowed the half of inch of brandy that remained in the cup beside it, a left over from last night. As the burning liquid made its way down his throat he sent up a silent cheer to a non existent God. Never let it be said that Adrian Nikahd didn't kill his drinks.
The glow of the computer screen as it came to life wasn't bright enough to send shooting pain through his head. He'd long ago dimmed the screen to avoid just that problem.
He quickly clicked open his browser, holding the cigarette between his teeth as his fingers adeptly manipulated his touch pad and keyboard, opening his mail service.
He had a couple of new messages and as he scrolled through them he determined they were mostly junk. One was a link to his friend's newest blog about the how much all the other street gangs sucked, another talked about some missing guy or couple or something (they were probably asking for help finding them), and the last was a report on the latest Taxxon hives but he'd helped write it so he didn't bother.
He sent the new emails to the trash and searched through his inbox for the schedule the boss had given him. Finding it he clicked it open.
"Shit," he said to himself, running a hand through his hair. He closed the laptop and got up. "Yo, you gotta go," he said, his voice horse as he pulled the sheet all the way off the girl whose name he didn't even remember as he walked to the bathroom. "I gotta go to work. Get up." He closed the door behind him, not waiting to see if she had woken up or not.
Age: 21
Birthday: March 21st, 1989
Gender: Male
Hometown: Shiraz, Iran
Face Claim: Rafi Gavron
Nationality: Iranian
Languages Spoken: Persian, Azeri, Kurdish, Arabic, French, English
Description: Adrian stands a solid 5'6" though you'd never notice because his personality tends to make him seem taller. His hair is either a tangled mess if he's being too lazy to do something with it, or shaved if he's decided to be lazy for months at a time. He enjoys the odd looks he used to get in his home town from the old biddies and the over zealous men living in among "God's Chosen People." Adrian used to travel a lot. He knew everyone thought they belonged to God and yet he found the same sins everywhere.
He'd never believed much in fighting the inevitable so you might as well join it. He tends to wear sun glasses to shield his eyes from the light and the headache it would cause thanks to his life of over indulgence and he wears beenies to keep his messy hair out of the way. He gets through life in jeans and some t-shirts, normally accented by necklaces and bracelets. Each one was supposed to mean something important but Adrian tended to lose them easily in his unacknowledged search for some deeper meaning in life.
Skills:
He can roll his own cigarettes no matter what he puts in them
He's a fire tech. A bit of a pyro, he knows how to set fires, control fires, put out fires and in all other ways control how a fire burns.
He can drive anything with wheels.
Personality: Adrian is a fun loving guy. He likes to party hard and doesn't pretend otherwise. If he shows up to a meeting late with his eyes still blurry from his hangover he doesn't much care and he doesn't expect anyone else to care either. He easily brushes their disapproving looks off and continues along with whatever no future job he'd taken to get by.
He has a certain dashing charm that attracts people to him when he's in a better mood (his mood normally improves when the sun goes down) and he never goes home to an empty bed if he doesn't want to, taking home men as easily as women when the mood strikes him. He doesn't really form a connection to either, nor has he ever fallen for anyone. His choice to include men in his search was just another way to rebel against the concepts of right and wrong he'd grown up with and what he sees as the hypocrisy of his country. Iran, as it liked to call itself now, had once been the seat of the Persian empire and there were certainly enough historical examples of boy sex slaves in their history and poetry to make the current moral standards laughable.
When alcohol is not flowing and he's not surrounded by a cloud of smoke he tends to be quiet and moody. Something plagues him but he's not sure what it is and he doesn't like to think about it too much, preferring to ignore the emptiness in his life by filling it with good music and beautiful young bodies, including his own, which he takes care of with a surprising diligence considering his general look of unkemptness.
Bio/History: Adrian was born in Shiraz and grew up there. The Iranian orphanage system is not the best place to spend one's childhood and you could be sure he escaped it when the invasion gave him all the excuse he needed.
Even then he attended school, switching schools when his teachers caught on to his homeless status and sought to send him back into the state's custody. Despite his varied and interrupted education Adrian managed to get good enough grades until his country shut down for good as the yeerks solidified their hold on the planet.
That's when he headed north for no particular reason at all. The yeerks were actually less concentrated farther south of him but he'd never had a desire to see Africa. Too many hardships there and he had enough of his own. He eventually made his way into what used to be France and fell in with an Irish gang that had fled their own homeland.
Eventually he was recruited by an animorph. He figured life with the resistance would be a bit more interesting than life anywhere else.
Starting Morphs:
Land: Red Fox
Bug: Black Fly
Other: Mockingbird
RP Sample: (Uh, I couldn't think of a scene with his parents since he's an orphan but this one shows what he was like before the RP)
Adrian turned on his computer, rubbing the sleep and slime out of his eyes. His hair stood up at every angle and he sat at the computer desk in his boxers, the room dim and the light it did contained tinged orange by his cheap curtains. He stretched and yawned, looking over his shoulder at the naked figure still passed out in his bed. He'd have to kick her out in a second but he wanted to check the small net the gang had managed to set up for any updates. He was pretty sure he wasn't on scavenge duty today but the boss had sworn to kick him out if he was late one more time. Not that he cared much except that it was an unnecessary hassle to hunt for a better group and he didn't want to cut back on anything.
He lit a cigarette as he waited for the laptop to warm up and swallowed the half of inch of brandy that remained in the cup beside it, a left over from last night. As the burning liquid made its way down his throat he sent up a silent cheer to a non existent God. Never let it be said that Adrian Nikahd didn't kill his drinks.
The glow of the computer screen as it came to life wasn't bright enough to send shooting pain through his head. He'd long ago dimmed the screen to avoid just that problem.
He quickly clicked open his browser, holding the cigarette between his teeth as his fingers adeptly manipulated his touch pad and keyboard, opening his mail service.
He had a couple of new messages and as he scrolled through them he determined they were mostly junk. One was a link to his friend's newest blog about the how much all the other street gangs sucked, another talked about some missing guy or couple or something (they were probably asking for help finding them), and the last was a report on the latest Taxxon hives but he'd helped write it so he didn't bother.
He sent the new emails to the trash and searched through his inbox for the schedule the boss had given him. Finding it he clicked it open.
"Shit," he said to himself, running a hand through his hair. He closed the laptop and got up. "Yo, you gotta go," he said, his voice horse as he pulled the sheet all the way off the girl whose name he didn't even remember as he walked to the bathroom. "I gotta go to work. Get up." He closed the door behind him, not waiting to see if she had woken up or not.
