[Creative Title Here]

Welcome to my character gallery.
The actual one has become a pain to update, so I've moved it to this thread.

Jump to:

1. Zahir Keen - A Ferift (animal/human shifter) Maned Wolf who wishes he were human.
2. Jiden Sparx - An Electrical Engineer claiming to be an inventor who just hasn't had any good ideas yet.
3. Lori Lentil - Trickster/thief with a Draconic curse.
4. Quatre Bornes "Q" Lee - Gun-for-hire.
5. Undeveloped Characters - OCs that aren't fully developed yet, but pop up as side characters in RPs from time to time.
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abuse, animal characters, anthropomorphic, coming of age, conflict: man vs. nature, conflict: man vs. self, conflict: man vs. society, family, fantasy, furry, gaslamp, fantasy, kemonomimi, low fantasy, magical realism, magipunk, non-human characters, superhuman, survival, tragedy

Zahir Keen
A Ferift (animal/human shifter) Maned Wolf who wishes he were human.

In another world, there exist humans, animals, and the Ferift. The Ferift are animals with the ability shift into a humanoid form. The only difference between a Ferift's human form and a pure human are the eyes: Ferift have a much larger iris and a pupil the shape of their animal form (e.g. a horse ferift would have rectangular pupils). In this world, humans enslave the Ferift, believing them to be of impure blood. The slaves have many uses, but one of the most common is submission to fighting pits for human entertainment.

Zahir was not a fighter, however. An exhibit in a traveling zoo, he was kept in a tiny cage in his feral form for several years. As one of the last Maned Wolves in the world, he was prevented from ever shifting to his humanoid form, causing him to associate much distress with his feral form.

One day, a rogue Ferift Wolf by the name of Trinity escaped from the fighting pits and started a resistance to free the Ferift slaves from the humans. On the day of her escape, she passed the zoo and freed Zahir, who became one of her first followers. Once they found a safe hideout, Zahir changed to his human form, and has remained in it for at least 10 years.

As part of the resistance, Zahir works as a scribe to document the group's history and birth rolls. Since he makes a convincing human, he will also sometimes go to the fighting pits to spy on the humans.

Zahir is very secretive of his past and his maned wolf form. Outside the founding members of the resistance, none know what his feral form even is or why he avoids it. Secretly, Zahir wishes he were human. One of the few reasons he sticks with the resistance is because he's not sure he could pass as fully human all the time.

He is 31 years old.

Roleplay With This Character
This character can be adapted for pretty much any roleplay. If you like what you see and have some sort of plot, contact me and we'll talk. =)
Please also understand that while this character page may focus on certain parts of development, it is entirely possible to have an RP where the character is played much younger, before/during key events happen, or in the future during periods that aren't covered by this bio.
"And in this corner, the battle scarred Alita, Queen of Lions, Best of the best! Up against her, a new challenger... Gregory, a black Panther! This looks like a one-hit kill, folks..."

Zahir shivered and tried to ignore the chatter. His hands were in his jean pockets, and the white, dirtied wifebeater was poor enough dress to make people look twice at him when he passed. Luckily(or unluckily?) he was hispanic, so most assumed he was one of the workers here.

But to work in this place? Ugh.. It was a disaster. He wasn't even supposed to be here. Trinity would kill him if she found out. He was a librarian, not a warrior.

Green eyes with no whites darted from the left ot the right, watching everyone he passed as he quietly worked his way to the back, where he wanted to go. His unruly black hair was everywhere, but mostly, in his eyes. He had hoped by having such hair and bangs, they would cover up the fact that he had no whites. This would help him pass as human, rather than a ferift in human form. Often enough, the humans seemed too daft to take notice.

A double bell sounded loudly, and Zahir cringed in response.
"Another win for the beautiful Alita! Collect your winnings..." an announcer called.

Trying to ignore it, he kept looking for his target. Not soon after, there it was. The Weapons Boutique. A small sliver of a smirk came across Zahir's face, but it quickly left when a person passed him by, touching him.

He may look like a human, smell like a human, and blend in perfectly with them, but he was still a xenophobic. Despite this, he went to the counter, where there stood an old and bruised man named Bob.

Bob had a caged crow squaking madly in the corner. It was angry about.. Caging, Zahir was sure, but it was yelling about something else, too. He tried to zone it out.

"You again?" Bob asked, placing a toothpick in his mouth. "You just gonna gawk again or you gonna buy somethin' this time?"

Zahir looked around the wall full of weapons. "So you noticed me," he grumbled. Oh well, couldn't be helped. Zahir had been spying the instruments for a few days now, trying to figure out what he wanted from a distance before pickpocketing enough money to get it. Yes, he'd become quite the connoisseur in thievery, as of late.

"That collar you have... In the corner..." Zahir said slyly, angling his head slightly. "What exactly does it do?"

Bob laughed and picked up the collar, "You must be new 'round these parts, kid. This here's the brand spankin' new Commodore 2k." He pressed a button on the collar, and it expanded and then collapsed. "Unlike most collars, it expands when your slave changes forms, so you don't have that pesky choking problem. And as standard, electrocutes, too. But has a higher shock value, so it has more of a kick."

Zahir blinked, bringing his head straight again. "Let's say I wanted the shock deactivated? My pets know who's boss."

Bob gave another look to Zahir. It was an uncomfortable silence; the Maned Wolf knew what the human was thinking, and didn't blame him for it.

"Three hundred for deactivation plus the collar," he finally shot, knowing he could make a good profit off this.

"The collar itself is only worth one hundred," Zahir stated calmly, slowly. As was his nature. It was sort of creepy.

"250 is for the fee that keeps my mouth shut about your wankin' ways." the shopkeeper replied.

Zahir sighed, and pulled out his coin purse, pulling out 150 in coin.
"Deactivate it front of me, now, and the rest will come."

Bob wasn't a totally mad person, and he did as told. Although Zahir didn't know much about mechanics, he assumed a chip being removed meant there would be no shock. When Bob was done, Zahir gave him the other 150, and took the collar in his hand.
Before turning, however, he held out his free hand. "The remote, too."

Bob fumbled around for a moment and gave Zahir a small rectangle with a button on it. The hispanic Maned Wolf in human form pressed the button, and upon feeling no shock, mumbled a 'pleasure doing business with you' and made his way out rather swiftly.

The thirty year old had been out here for two days, now. He'd watched some of the battles, but for the most part, he was simply looking at goods. He had wanted to buy something for himself for quite some time. Unfortunately, he'd never told Trinity where he'd gone off to, so he wondered if she was searching for him, or if he was so quiet, she'd never noticed he was gone.

Either way, he'd finally gotten what he'd wanted, so now it was time to head back to the caves.
It was another entire day journey to get there, and it was already early afternoon. He decided to go ahead and begin the long walk, stopping to sleep briefly in the woods before continuing and finally making it back to the brood the next morning.

He wasn't excited to be back in the caves, though. He hated them, in fact. It wasn't like he hated the resistance, no.. He loved that. He just didn't like enclosed, dark spaces. He liked being out in the open. He supposed a lot of the others felt the same.

Collar still in hand, he entered the cave and made way to the library. On his way there, he contracted the collar and placed it in his pants pocket, hiding it from view. This would be his secret.

After making it into the Library, he looked over the other librarians briefly, wondering if he should ask what he had missed. He wondered if it was even worth it to basically announce he'd been missing. Maybe he'd be able to pull off not saying anything, and nobody would know. But maybe he smelled more like human than usual, because of the arenas. Zahir couldn't tell. He'd been in human form consistently for at least ten years, now. He couldn't smell much better than a normal two-legger these days. In fact, he was pretty sure some of the ferift of the brood weren't positive he wasn't born human.

But as the man was deep in his thoughts, another librarian came over with a book in his hands.
"Oh! Zahir! You're here, good! I have a question about this..." The younger librarian shoved a large ledger into Zahir's hands, forcing the man to come back to reality and put his business face on.

His green orbs looked down, turning the book so he could read it. It was the list of births and the current cub count. "What about it?" he asked quietly, his voice soft.

"Well, it's here..." the younger librarian pointed to one of the names in the long list. "See here, it says she has 12 cubs, but there's no sire, and," he licked his fingers before turning a few pages, pointing again "Here it only lists 10 of the names."

Zahir frowned and cocked his head a bit, dreading going down to the Breeders caverns. "Sometimes this happens if they're stillborn..." the hispanic offered.

"Well if they were, it wasn't recorded," the younger librarian replied.

"Who was in charge of this record? Have them fix it," grumpled the elder.

The younger one went meek, their voice becoming soft. "That's the problem...." they stated, it becoming a hushed whisper. "..It was actually you.."

Zahir hmphed and brought the book closer to his face, turning the pages to the beginning of the count, where the first error was. It was rare he made errors. After confirming his name was indeed the one who had begun the recording of the month, he shut the book and tucked it under his arm, picking up a pen from a table and turning to go. "All right, I'll go fix it then," he said, a bit grumpy.

Ten minutes later, he found himself in the Breeder's Caves. He was a bit agitated, but trying to hide it. He didn't like so many people crammed into such a small space. He'd traded the noisiness of arenas for the cramped feel of the breeders. This was very likely the one cavern he hated the most out of the whole place. He normally tried to shove the birth records onto the other librarians, but sometimes he got stuck with the duty. Oh well.

He opened the book again, and searched for page with the name of mother with the error.

coming of age, conflict: man vs. society, conflict: man vs. technology, crime drama, cyberpunk, family, futuristic, lgbt, modern, modern scifi, mystery, realistic physics, slice of life, slow burn, social, vanilla

Jiden Sparx
An Electrical Engineer claiming to be an inventor who just hasn't had any good ideas yet.

Quick Reference

Character Summary

Jiden Sparx is a kid genius. His mother was an inventor and died at an early age- the goggles, which are a prototype to one of her last ideas, are all he has left of her. His father is a biochemical engineer that teaches at the local university. Jy himself is into electrical engineering, but also claims to be an inventor that just “hasn’t had any good ideas yet.” He loves computers, robots, and fixing things. He is generally a cyberpunk character.

Key Facts
– Aged 18 – 23 preferred, but older is ok
– 5’4″ to 5’7″ in height
– Necklace is either dog tags or a celtic cross
– ALWAYS has goggles (on his head, around his neck, over his eyes- whatever)
– Androgynous, leaning to the masculine side
– Prefers to wear the green outfit/ensemble
– Hair is red/brown
– Eyes are green
– Long or short hair

Personality Traits
– Favorite color is green
– Easy going, laid back, bit of a clown.
– Almost always happy. Smile on his face or knowing smirk
– A bit of a klutz, but always manages to pull through
– Although probably smarter than most of his friends, he enjoys playing the dumb fool
– Can go by nicknames “J”, “Jy” (like the ‘gy’ in ‘gyroscope’), and sometimes “Jade”

Extended Information

Character Sheet

Real name: Jiden Sparx
Aliases: “J,” “Jy” (like ‘gyroscope’), and sometimes “Jade”
Sex: Male
Gender: Androgyne
Occupation: None
Height: 5’4″ to 5’7″
Hair: long red/brown hair that goes down to mid-back.
Age: 18 – 25
Favorite color: green
Personality: easy-going, laid back, can be a bit of a clown. He is almost always in a good mood, smiling or owning a bit of a smirk. He will often downplay his intelligence, playing the dumb fool or pretending to be a klutz in order to fit in better with those around him.
Distinctive features: always wears green goggles; long blue tribal tattoo that spreads from right shoulder down the arm to the wrist.
Hobbies: building, maintaining, and dueling battle bots; hacking and cracking; electrical engineering.
Brief history:
Kid genius. Mother died when Jy was 10, father when he was 18. Jiden inherited everything. He claims to be an inventor but “hasn’t had any good ideas yet.”
The goggles are a memento of his mother and he wears them constantly. They are a prototype invention of his mother’s. They are capable of taking several readings on equipment just by looking at them. Their most common use is as a multimeter.[/tab]

Robyn and Lindsey Sparx were a lovely couple married for 20 years. When their son, Jiden, was 10 years old, Lindsey fell victim to a brain aneurysm.

Lindsey was an electrical engineer and inventor. She had made many useful innovations that spanned several industries. At the time of her death, a pair of goggles were in the prototype stage. These goggles later became Jiden’s memento of his mother, wearing them all the time. Jiden’s father, Robyn, was a biochemist and a professor at a university. When Jiden turned 18, he, too, fell victim to brain aneurysm.

Jiden followed his parents’ footsteps, being a particularly gifted child. He quickly dropped from school and went into an accelerated learning course to pick up his diploma early and enter university into his teens. He grew to like robotics and computing, and started working underground as a cracker (black hat hacker) while building battle bots on the side. It wasn’t long before he lost interest in university and began doing his own thing.

Jiden’s father never asked too many questions. He was generally proud of his son and unworried. The family was quite wealthy and there was never any push to get a job. Robyn’s time was also full– Jiden was left alone to his own devices for most of the time.

The history of aneurysms is confusing and a little suspicious, especially since Jiden inherited everything from his parents upon their death. Jiden has been touch and go with the authorities because of this, but has never actually been charged. He currently still lives in his parents’ house doing his own thing.

He doesn’t appear too saddened by the loss of his parents, but maybe that’s just his method of coping.

Character Variations

Jy is a cyberpunk character and is open-ended to take advantage of almost any roleplay in that genre. Because of this, there will naturally be several small variations. His gender rarely comes up, and his sexual orientation varies, although he is usually asexual.

My two favorite story arcs are these:
– Jy is studying full-time in University. A childhood friend drops on his doorstep after she was thrown out due to her mental illness. While Jiden takes care of her, she tries desperately to seduce him. Only problem is that Jy is 100% gay and taken. His boyfriend is out of town and he doesn’t want his friend to know his orientation.

– Jy is eating breakfast with his father (Robyn) when he suddenly falls dead on the table. Too shocked to do anything, Jiden simply leaves and tries to pretend it never happened. Later that day, Delilah (Deli), Robyn’s intern, stops by the house. They both are at the wrong place at the wrong time, and find themselves the prime suspects of Robyn’s murder.

Some songs that could be considered theme songs.
All Good Things - Wire Walker
Symphony of Science - A Wave of Reason
Welshly Arms - Legendary
Bowling For Soup - A Really Cool Dance Song

Roleplay With This Character
This character can be adapted for pretty much any roleplay. If you like what you see and have some sort of plot, contact me and we'll talk. =)
Please also understand that while this character page may focus on certain parts of development, it is entirely possible to have an RP where the character is played much younger, before/during key events happen, or in the future during periods that aren't covered by this bio.

[[Uses a character variation in a setting based on the The Lost Room universe.]]

A little over a month ago, in an upperclass neighborhood, Jiden Sparx found himself in his father's lab with a pencil.
Robyn, his father, was a biochemist and professor at a nearby university. He had his own lab in his home, although a good half of it was more of a storehouse for miscellaneous electrical and mechanical components. The Sparx house held a family engineers. Lindsey, Jiden's late mother, was an electrical engineer and inventor. Jiden had followed in her footsteps, taking an interest in electronics and robotics. He told himself he was also an inventor, but simply didn't have any good ideas yet.

Lindsey died when Jiden was 18. Now, Jiden was 25. And approximately one month ago, Robyn also passed. It had all happened so quickly. Jiden was at the dining table eating cereal when his father came up from the lab to make himself a sandwich. Robyn had sat down to eat it in his lab coat, asked how J's day was going and then promptly passed out on the table.

Jiden had turned around and dropped everything, rushing over. He didn't know what to do at first, or what had happened. But when he checked for breath or a heartbeat, there was nothing. Jiden grabbed a defibrillator and attempted to resurrect his father, but blood came out of his ears after a few tries and Jiden knew his father was gone.

It had been sudden, unexpected, completely uncalled for...
His father had been taken away just like his mother had when he was 18.
Jiden had no idea what to do. Something snapped in his brain and he simply went downstairs into the lab and tried to pretend it had never happened.
He didn't want to look at it. He didn't want to think about it.

Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away.

He'd looked at his father's desk, covered in papers. But placed on top of them was a single, perfect, yellow pencil. Expertly sharpened, rounded pink eraser that you knew wouldn't smudge up your work. This scene should have been nothing special. But the pencil almost seemed too perfect. Too well-placed. And why a yellow number two pencil? Mechanical pencils were clearly the superior writing utensil.

He wasn't sure what possessed him to take the pencil. But he did. Maybe it was an inferior writing tool, but it still wrote nonetheless so it certainly served a purpose. He wound up leaving his house and going to a coffee shop where, after at least an hour of awkward silence and denial, he finally decided to do something about his situation. He took out his cellphone and dialed 911 to report the dead body in his kitchen. He found himself getting incredibly anxious at the series of questions he was asked by the operator, and pulled out the yellow pencil from his pocket to mindlessly doodle on a napkin.

But when he pushed the point to the napkin, he found he could not make a mark. Instead, a penny spontaneously appeared whenever he tried to touch graphite to a surface. The phone dropped from between his cheek and shoulder and he tried again to write something. But every time, another penny clinked atop the table, sometimes bouncing a bit before coming to rest. He dropped the pencil, reached under the table to pick up his phone, rushed a "Sorry, I have to go," and ended the call with the operator. It wasn't long before he had amassed quite the collection of spontaneously generated pennies from this assumedly magical pencil. The situation perplexed him far more than his father's mysterious and sudden death.

His pile of pennies did not go unnoticed, of course. That was when Carson and The Organization entered the picture. Indeed, Jiden's entire life flipped that day. Carson told him that the pencil was "an object. One of many" and that there was a secret organization simply called "The Organization" which collected these objects and safe-guarded them. It was a long conversation Jiden couldn't remember the specifics of. But he did remember he didn't need much convincing to join, and he ended up paying their bill entirely in pennies.

The Organization had become the perfect way to escape his problem. He never went back to his house once the training began. Deep in denial, he booked himself a hotel for any time he needed a place to stay, and decided the Organization would be the start of a new chapter in his life-- maybe even an entirely new book, because he planned to completely forget his father's passing. The training was a breeze. He'd known much of it already, and what he didn't know previously was quickly and easily picked up.

Today, the training would be completed and he'd be on to working directly with his partner/mentor, who incidentally enough was already decided to be Carson. Now, Jiden was exiting the auditorium doors, his arms stretching above his head as his mouth opened in a wide yawn. When his green eyes spotted Carson, his arms went to his sides and he trotted over the older man, a wide smirk on his face.

"You look like you need a good bowel movement," Jiden chortled, playfully pegging his right elbow into Carson's arm. "Lighten up, Partner."
Jiden listened to her, and gave a small smirk afterward, forcing a breathy “heh.”
”Jiden,” he said later.
Jiden was normally pretty easygoing. Either immersed in his gadgetry or cracking some joke with a smile on his face. Given his situation — father completely overloaded with work and Jiden left to entertain himself — he had seemed to adapt fairly well and no one ever really wondered about him.

In truth, he was usually praised as being some sort of electrical genius, taking after his mother and bound to come up with something amazing eventually. For that reason, he didn’t bother with school. He’d tried it, but like any smart kid, had grown bored and about the age of ten he took the test for his GED and kept to himself in his lab since. Occasionally he’d participate in some engineer forums. He’d made some headway in the hobby battle robots scene, but didn’t really fully apply himself anywhere too heavily. Robyn didn’t want Jiden to entirely miss out on a “real” childhood, so had never forced his son to go get a job or jump start adult life. Realistically speaking, they had all the money they could’ve wanted anyway.

It was all this that came through Jiden’s mind. It had only been about an hour a go that he was eating cereal in the kitchen when his father came up to make himself sandwich. The man had sat down to eat it in his lab coat, asked how J’s day was going and then promptly passed out on the table.

Jiden had turned around and dropped everything, rushing over. He didn’t know what to do at first, or what had happened. But when the eighteen year old checked for breath or a heartbeat, there was nothing. Jiden grabbed a defibrillator and attempted to resurrect his father, but blood came out of his ears after a few tries and Jiden knew his father was gone.

It had been sudden, unexpected, completely uncalled for…
His father had been taken away just like his mother had when he was six.
Jiden had no idea what to do. Something snapped in his brain and he simply went back downstairs into the lab and tried to pretend it had never happened.
He didn’t want to look at it. He didn’t want to think about it.

Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away.
Every fiber of his being knew it wouldn’t, but he still hoped anyway. Some sort of teenaged resolve stuck in him. He was stubborn, he didn’t want to believe he was suddenly alone in the world with no one to look after him.

But now Robyn Sparx’s intern was trying to get him to go up there to the kitchen, to his father, to ruin everything. To absolve him of his unique fantasy that everything was okay.

“Were you and him… You know…?” He looked at his numb hand. “…In love?”

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action-adventure, alchemy, ancient world, antiheroes, bizarro fiction, comedy, comic fantasy, conflict: man vs. society, dystopia, epic quest, exploration fantasy, futuristic, gaslamp, fantasy, high fantasy, low fantasy, magical realism, no sex, otherworld fantasy, post-apocalyptic, science fantasy, scifi, swashbuckling, swords and planets, swords and sandals, swords and sorcery, urban fantasy, weird fiction, weird west

Lori Lentil
Trickster/thief with a Draconic curse.
Quick Reference
Character Summary
The story takes place on an arid planet with a fantastical middle-ages sort of vibe. Or an alternate future with co-existing sentient species. Sometimes it’s a grim dystopian atmosphere where body mods aren’t uncommon.
The surroundings aren’t important. Here’s what is: Lori Lentil once pissed off the wrong guy. A warlock, witch, or dragon cursed the narcissistic trickster thief to abandon his humanity and slowly turn into a scaley beast.
Rather than let the curse win, Lori substitutes his reptilian limbs with mechanical ones and covers up what he cannot replace. He puts off an identity crisis by responding with never-ending humor and sass. From the outside, he’s a hilarious character with never a dull moment. By constantly distracting himself, perhaps he will never have to think about his challenging future.

Key Facts
– Looks aged 20 – 28.
– Has no hair; it’s all feathers. Most of it is white, but some red is acceptable; black tips can be added. Variable interpretations.
– “Hair” is generally mostly covered by a bandanna.
– Goggles always over eyes.
– Always wears bandanna or scarf around neck.
– Primary color scheme is red and gold; secondary color scheme is black, brown and white.
– Can make fire from his hands in small amounts (mostly for light).

Personality Traits
– Easily fixated on a goal (such as treasure hunting) and incredibly stubborn to achieve it, even if in life-threatening danger.
– Loves tricks and mind games, rather than actual fighting (he’d annoy you to death!).
– Short attention span; easily distracted, especially by shiny things.
– Stereotypical sassy/snarky adventurer type.
– While an aloof character, he is ashamed of his dragon limbs. This is what inspires his body mods and costume design.

Extended Information
Character Sheet
Real Name: Lori Lentil
Occupation: Trickster/Thief
Status: Traveler
Marital Status: Single
Origin: Middle East
Height: approx. 5’7”
Hair: Feathers
Build: Fit/lean
Eyes: Always covered by red goggles
Age: 20 – 28
Other: Has Mechanical arm and leg
Known Powers/Abilities:
A known and established trickster and thief. Well-versed in the art of illusion, annoyance, and separating coins from pockets. Especially talented with blow darts and various dusts. Has the ability to magically create small flames.
Vain. Overcompensates self-doubt with humor and distraction. Short attention span.
Brief History:
Born a human orphan. After succumbing to wanderlust, became a trickster/thief. Due to a failed attempt to capture a Befthar Dragon, Lori was cursed and is now currently (very slowly) transforming into a dragon himself.
Lori has an older brother named Yen who works as a scribe & translator in the capital city. They are not on speaking terms.

Lori Lentil is the younger of two orphaned sons, his brother being named Yen. In a fantasy world-version of the Islamic Golden Age, Lori begins life as a perfectly normal boy who romanticizes thief culture and exploring new lands. Yen wants none of it and intends to stay in town, working as a translator and scribe. Lori eventually succumbs to wanderlust, leaving the city and coming into his own as a trickster thief.

In this world, Lori encounters many magical species and beings, one of which is the Befthar dragon. The Befthar are an incredibly rare dragon, said to have been the bridge between the spirit realm and humans, having taught shamanic practices to The First People.

As the “more civilized” world began to look down on magico-religious practices, the Befthar became hunted for the magical properties of their body parts.

Lori, ever on the search for more wealth, heard rumors of the dragon’s presence in a village and couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste. His attempt to capture the dragon was thwarted, however, and the Befthar cursed Lori.

Lori, the headstrong, narcissistic boy who never thought further than “just to have fun” was left with the burden to slowly transform into a Befthar himself. But not just any Befthar. Lori would be the very last.

Somehow, Lori didn’t let it bother him. He entombed himself in foolish comedy, continuing his trickery, thievery, and adventuring. But once the changes began to slowly come—his hair replaced by feathers, his skull sprouted horns, his eyes changed shape, and his limbs scaled over—he began to try and stop or delay the curse. Once a limb got too Beftharian for his tastes, he contracted a surgeon to remove it and replace it with a mechanical limb, instead. The things he can’t replace, he tries to use to accentuate his eccentric fashion choices.

The Befthar curse isn’t entirely bad, thankfully. The more Beftharian Lori gets, the more adept at elemental magic he becomes. At current, he can summon tiny flames.

Character Variations
Lori has a few different character variations depending on the setting the character is placed in. The main/canon setting is a fantasy world based on the Islamic Golden Age.

Other versions include an alternate universe version of “Repo! The Genetic Opera,” where Lori is an unlicensed organ dealer. His dragon-like appearance is from voluntary body modifications.

In a futuristic fantasy world based in cyberpunk, Lori can be cursed by any magic user (including humans), not because he tried to steal from them, rather he simply frustrated them through sheer annoyance. In this type of setting, Lori is much the same character, but his brother, Yen, is a rich socialite who is more or less a villain.

Regardless of setting, Lori is played as either a lucid character who knows what he is doing and is simply in denial of his curse, or a mentally “off” character who obsesses with shiny things and doesn’t actually care for what they are worth.
Both personalities are equally liked.

Some songs that could be considered theme songs.
Fresh Body Shop - Mr Wierdo
Aladdin - One Jump Ahead
Styx - Renegade
Hot Hot Heat - Ladies and Gentlemen

Roleplay With This Character
This character can be adapted for pretty much any roleplay. If you like what you see and have some sort of plot, contact me and we'll talk. =)
Please also understand that while this character page may focus on certain parts of development, it is entirely possible to have an RP where the character is played much younger, before/during key events happen, or in the future during periods that aren't covered by this bio.

[[Takes place in a dystopian/futuristic fantasy setting.]]

"Lori Lentil. is that the name you go by these days?"

The man referenced could hardly be called such. Once human, he was now a varied assortment of red scaley dragon parts and mechanix. Red-tinted goggles covered his eyes, and his white "hair" was comprised of all feathers, a yellow scarf wrapped around his head in a pitiful attempt to hide it. Protruding out from his skull were two red horns, marking him as a dragonkin even though he had not been born such. His right arm was human and his left was automail. Both arms had been handcuffed together behind him, the back of a chair separating his arms from his his torso, which was clad in a bright red and gold vest that did a terrible job of keeping him hidden from situations such as this.

Nevertheless, here he was, the scarf around his neck left dangling on the floor from its length, hopelessly entangled between his arms, making the situation that much more uncomfortable.

The man at the other side of the table Lori was forced to sit at was half mechanix himself. But unlike Lori, that man's mechanix were completely legal. Lori's were street-bought, one of the reasons he was here today.

"Funny," the other man, dressed in a black suit stated, "I would've thought you would be the talkative type."

It was then that Lori's huge, human mouth spread into a grin. His teeth were littered with plaque and stains, his breath stinking as he exhaled once. Then twice, a snort coming from him.
And he laughed.

"Why talk to you? You know me for all of five minutes!"

Lori threw himself backward, landing on his arms. Still laughing, of course. Lori wasn't immune to pain, but with his skin thicker than a normal human's, and half of his upper body being conveniently metal, it wasn't as if he had much pain to worry about.

Once he was on the ground, he kicked his right, and entirely dragon, foot up and into the table, shoving it into the other man. While the agent was pre-occupied with that, Lori's automail left hand began to heat up to a temperature hot enough to melt the handcuffs. In the process, he burned his human hand and melted part of his scarf, but hey, Lori was ready to take some losses.

After his arms were freed, he jumped up and roundhouse kicked the cop again with his dragon leg once more before running out of the room.
Lori wasn't in this to kill people, no. Just steal s**t and run. The more he ran, the more fun the game became. It wasn't as if Lori kept a low profile. But then again, in a city of 150 million people, nobody really expected to be able to find anyone else very often.

Which was part of the reason, after Lori had punched out a window on the 50th floor, he turned around and stuck out his tongue before leaving.

"So long, suckers! Neh!"

And off he jumped, scarf flailing around behind him.

Lori wasn't exactly the most mentally stable person on the planet.

Surrounded by fog, he began coughing. He hadn't expected to be blindsided by toxic air. Despite how confident he was in himself, he'd never jumped out of a building before. A brief moment of panic flushed to the forefront of his mind before he started digging in his satchel for some sort of.. Something.. so he could stop his fall. Perhaps he hadn't thought this completely through.
No he didn't, and now he was quickly falling to his death.

Down below, he could see a fire escape. Fuck it, he thought to himself, and reached out for it, grabbing the railing with his automail arm and hoping it'd break his fall. The stairwell instead unbuckled from the building it had been attached to and ripped from the side of the building, but not before the joints in the automail arm pulled too taught and popped.

By this time, his fall was significantly slowing, and his chances of surviving were exponentially rising. However, he was quickly realizing he wasn't going to come out of this one unscathed.
His automail fingers still being able to grip, he threw himself at more and more iron pieces in hopes that one of them would prevent his body from splooging all over the pavement found at ground level.

The long story short is, it never did, and he wound up on his back with a totally gimp automail arm and a brutal headache with a very, very gnarled iron fire escape beside him.

Lori considered it a win!


After giving himself about five minutes to recover, he let out swift exhalation and pushed any of the debris on top of him away from himself with his human hand. The police were going to exit the bottom of the building at any minute, and he needed to be out of here before then.

With a groan, he pushed himself up. Once he was standing, he bent back over to pick up the few credits that had evicted themselves from his satchel in order to occupy the ground. Placing them back with where they belonged, in the several seconds that passed, he realized how truly annoying it was to only have the ability to use one arm. His left and mechanical one was limp at his side and would no longer respond. Not even the fingers.

He snorted and quickly ran off into the distance, covering the urban sprawl. The unevenness in his footing was just as annoying as his dead arm. Over the past several weeks, his right leg had been morphing from human to that of a dragon. The other day, he finally had become unable to wear a shoe. He'd been stealing credits in order to pay off his Mechanik for a new leg. His mechanik, however, happened to be a little gremlin.

But that was neither here nor there. Now he couldn't even get the leg. He had to repair the arm, first. So it should've come as no surprise that his next stop was Twitch's door, banging on it with him human fist.

"Yo! Let me in before I kick it in for you!" Lori taunted.

He liked to joke. Of course, who knew if anyone other than himself found his humor funny. But on top of that, he was a bit anxious-- he didn't want to be on the streets right now. That anxiety inadvertently showed itself through his nonhuman, red and white fluffy ears. A bit like a rabbit's, they twitched and tilted toward every suspicious sound.

Lori hated them, but he couldn't deny they were superior to his previous human set, so he'd never tried to cut them off.[/tab]



1990s, abuse, action-adventure, adult characters, angst, antiheroes, city, conflict: man vs. man, conflict: man vs. self, conflict: man vs. society, conflict: man vs. technology, drama, dubious consent, gore, hurt/comfort, low fantasy, magical realism, modern, modern fantasy, neutral characters, one-on-one roleplayer, paranormal, slow burn, soap opera, supernatural, urban fantasy, violence

Quatre Bornes "Q" Lee

Quick Reference
Character Summary
Lycanthropes were real, and the French Foreign Legion attempted to breed human/lycan hybrids. It didn’t go as they planned, and the last living specimen was kidnapped and surgically altered to appear human. Q doesn’t know about his origins. He thinks he’s a human with a birth defect– a tail, which for the lycanthropes, houses major arteries and could not be removed. He grew up in military boarding schools, of which his father was the commanding officer.

After revealing he liked men, Q’s father scarred his face with a rapier. This prompted Q to run from his country to another with his at-the-time boyfriend. In the new country, they started a French mafia. It was then Q got his tattoos, things he now considers to be youthful mistakes.

Originally one of the top dogs in the mafia, he was later cast aside since a gay couple apparently isn’t very threatening. Feeling betrayed by his now-ex on top of being disowned by his father, Q threw himself deep into the closet, abandoning his life of organized crime and trying to make a new one as a hired gun. Burying himself in women and booze, things get complicated when his health begins to deteriorate. He fights fainting spells with cigarettes, but eventually his lycanthropic past catches up with him and he dies by 30.

Key Facts
– Aged 22 – 30
– Green eyes, slight glow
– Hair is grey, not white
– Tail is black. Tail is optional, but preferred
– Around six feet tall
– Tanned/dark skin

Personality Traits
– Went to military academies, posture would reflect this
– Not too emotive facially, except while intoxicated or in pain
– Womanizer
– General “disturbed” or “dark hero” stereotype.

Extended Information
Character Sheet

Real Name: Quatre Bornes Lee
Note: His first name is “Quatre Bornes.” It’s double barrel. “Bornes” is not a middle name.
Aliases: Bornes, Lee, Q, Quatre, Qua
Note: He hates “Quatre.”
Occupation: Gun for hire
Legal Status: Illegal Immigrant
Marital Status: Single
Base of Operations: Vagrant
Group Affiliation: None. Contractor.
Former Group Affiliation: French Mafia
Origin: Quatre Bornes was born on Mauritius, a french-owned island off the coast of Africa. He grew up in France but immigrated to his current state of origin about the time he turned 18. His mother was a Mauritian, whereas his father was French/Chinese.
Height: 6 feet
Hair: Formerly black, currently grey. Down to chinline, parted to one side.
Build: Slim
Eyes: Dark green. Eyes are extremely sensitive to light; exposure to daytime sun is painful and potentially blinding. At night, they can be bioluminescent. Pupils are oval-shaped, narrowing to slits in light.
Skin: Tanned or dark
Age: 25 – 28
Languages: French; English
Distinctive Features:
Quatre Bornes has a diagonal slash-like scar over his face from just over his left eye, across his nose, to the bottom of his right cheek. His grey hair is parted over the side, covering an eye, in effort to cover both it and the scar.
The man has two black whisker-like tattoos on either cheek, coming up from his chin line, and a golden ankh tattoo over his back.
His most defining feature, aside from his animalistic green eyes (described earlier) is his tail. It is black, the color of the hair on his head before it greyed, and goes down to his knees. It resembles the tail of a saluki, as it is feathered and slightly curled at the tip, albeit monocolored. Saluki reference.
Known Powers/Abilities:
While his vocal chords are somewhat damaged, he can still imitate many canine sounds with surprising accuracy.
His sense of smell and taste are normal or subnormal.
Hearing is exceptional, in tune to both higher and lower frequencies than a normal human.
Vision is normal to exceptional. Pays close attention to detail and movement, has wide peripheral vision, and can see further distances than humans. Quatre Bornes can also see perfectly in the dark, his green eyes sometimes glowing.
Hearing is sensitive. Prolonged noises outside the normal human hearing range induces headaches.
Vision is incredibly sensitive. Daylight causes headaches and can be potentially blinding. Sunglasses must be worn. Vision itself, while keen, has a limited color spectrum.
Due to the chronic headaches caused by sunlight, Q self-medicates by smoking and/or cigarettes.
Quatre Bornes’s tail is also extremely sensitive, having what could be called whiskers lining down the base. If stroked the right way, it can induce arousal. If pulled or tugged, it will cause extreme pain and discomfort. If cut, exsanguination is possible.
Brief History:
Born on Mauritius, Quatre Bornes “Q” Lee was quickly brought to France, and raised in military academies. Born a lycanthrope/human hybrid, treatments and surgeries were performed upon him during his childhood to make him appear human. These, like most of Q’s childhood, are not remembered. Q believes he is entirely human.
Pushed to succeed his father as a strategist, Q rebelled to become a sniper instead.After many fights over Q’s intended occupation, the last one being where he got his scar, Q left his home and ended up in the country where he is today.
He is a contracted killer, and while he may have the best shot around, he isn’t so great at the other needed talents of sniping. For this and other less-important reasons, he only accepts contracts for less than one hundred thousand dollars, which makes him a prime target to take advantage of– and people have done it before. He is a mockery to the underground business and many wetworkers consider him a fool, however he isn’t dead yet so he must be getting some business and doing something right.
Q cannot, and could never transform. At least not physically. A mental transformation can be achieved in specific conditions, usually during times of extreme pain or stress.
Q considers himself human. He dislikes his body, and the tattoos he received he thinks of as “adolescent mistakes.” By the time he reaches 24 years old, his mannerisms become more bestial. At this, he continues his denial, calling himself 100% human.[/tab]


On the island of Mauritius, a group of Cryptozoologists discovered lycanthrope-creatures. The French Foreign Legion overtook the area and tried to create a hybrid-breeding program to produce a new type of legionnaire. This was entitled “Project Blackwoods.”

The project began with only four “children,” three of which did not live very long. After the US Military failed in an attempt to acquire the fourth child, its caretaker absconded with it to France. The caretaker, “Father,” forced the child through corrective surgeries to make it appear as human as possible. Unfortunately, due to the lycanthrope’s anatomy, important arteries were located in the tail and it still remained.

The child was named “Quatre Bornes,” and was enrolled into a military academy in which Father was employed. Quatre Bornes does not know any of this, and believes himself to be a human born with a birth defect (a tail). He never questioned it and is still in denial today.

Father had wanted Quatre Bornes, also known as “Q,” to become a strategist. Q did not want to follow this path, instead wishing to become a sniper. Father and Q’s relationship began to suffer because of this.

Eventually, a boy named Vespasien, also known as “Ves,” caught Q’s attention. Ves told Q he had a dream of moving to the USA to become a mafia lord. If Q joined him, Ves would teach him how to be a sniper. Shortly afterward, Q developed feelings for Ves and eagerly agreed to aid him.

During a fight with Father over Q wishing to attend sniper school, Q revealed that he loved boys. Enraged, Father grabbed a rapier and disfigured Q’s face with it, shouting, “If you like men, then you don’t deserve the face I made for you!”

At 18, Q and Ves decamped to the USA via ship. Ves began the French mafia in New York, Q became his translator and right hand. Although he wasn’t the best, he took to sniping rather easily, and the mafia grew beneath them.

Later, a man named Alexandre began to consult with Ves, stating a homosexual-led mafia was not very threatening. In response, Ves began publicly doting on women, eventually completely ignoring Q. Frustrated, Q left the mafia, feeling abandoned and betrayed by his now ex-boyfriend.

Q became a low brow hitman and went back into the closet, becoming a violent, sexist homophobic. If his father disowned him because he liked men, and his boyfriend abandoned him for women, then being gay must certainly be wrong, Q surmised.[/tab]

Age-Based Info
Aged 20 – 23

Quatre Bornes is a confounding mix of sanity and insensibility. On the one hand, he can be cool and calculating. On the other, he can be explosive and over-reactive. He is somewhat emotionally unstable, often acting on instinct and influence rather than expertise when it comes to interpersonal communication.
Q can bury his emotions deep within himself and carry out jobs and business with unscrupulous low-lives with ease. Killing from a distance is his game, and it his ability to turn himself off that allows him to do his job with no remorse. However, when it comes to his off time, he has no friends and prefers to drive people away. A vagrant at heart, he wishes for partnership but also does not allow himself to get too connected to people as he knows he will have to leave them.
When Bornes talks of his father, he never uses possessive pronouns. Bornes’s father is not “my father” it is simply “Father” with a capital F. Father insisted Q was normal and did all he could to make Q so; Father almost disowned Q for admitting he liked boys. Q now subconsciously tries to bang every woman to win back Father’s love. Bornes needs to prove that he is not Father’s failure.
As such, he seeks out prostitutes to get the false sense of being wanted. He’ll often get drunk for an inflated ego boost. He views himself as human with a terrible genetic defect (his tail). While normally he’ll hide this defect, when he is drunk he believes himself to be “greater” than a normal human, and that what women want is really an animal– lucky for him, he is part one.
He goes to exotic fetishist clubs almost exclusively as he knows the people there will “accept” his flaws and view them as triumphs. He feels that no “normal” person could ever accept him fully, and even if they did, he’d never be able to have sex with them as he acts very bestial in bed, animal sounds and all. In a normal situation with a “normal” person, he is very self-conscious of this.
Inside a seabag, he carries everything he needs- clothes, toiletries, basic cooking wares and some canned goods. If he were stranded on a deserted island, he’d be able to survive for at least seven days (provided he found a water source, as there’s no water in his seabag). Inside the bag, at the very bottom, is 20,000USD in cash.
Other than the seabag and what’s inside, he carries a hard violin case which harbors an M40 sniper rifle with extra ammunition for it and his handguns. Although normally on his person, his two glocks (handguns), in shoulder holsters, may also be in the violin case. He also wears a SOG Seal Knife at his hip in its sheath.
Lastly are his specially prescribed sunglasses, which never leave his person. Without them, he wouldn’t be able to see in the daylight.

The older Q gets, the worse his conditions become.

Eye sight
Starting at 24, but peaking at 25, Bornes finds even low light to be intolerable. He begins wearing his sunglasses at night and avoids day light as much as possible. He becomes strictly nocturnal around this time.

Chronic Headaches
Due to the eye sight and his sensitive hearing, he has chronic headaches. Ages 24 – 25, he tries to completely drown everything out with alcohol. By 25 – 26 he stops cold turkey and goes into withdrawal. He realizes the alcohol negatively impacts his fainting spells.

Smoking-related illnesses
In between ages 24 and 27 Q develops lung cancer and/or Emphysema due to the excessive smoking.

Animalistic Tendencies
Prior to age 24, Q growls and roars when angry but generally has full control of his more “animal” personality traits. This control begins faltering at age 24 and progressively worsens as time wears on. By 26, Q prefers to communicate via growls and grunts versus any human language.
In some roleplays, at 25+, Q will begin to spend more time with animals and may even begin communicating with them.[/tab][/tabs]

Other Information
Main Character Variations
The “main” and “canon” Q is that he is a gun for hire.
Aggressively homophobic, ex-french mafia, mercenary.
The older he gets, the more he smokes and drinks.

Rather than a lycanthrope/human hybrid, Q is part hellhound. His occupation is usually demon hunter. Something awakens within Q and he begins to hear the voice of Apollyon, telling him to kill demon hybrids that disrupt the ‘veil.’ This either comes from meeting a particular person or gaining possession of a cursed/possessed object.

Everything Else
I've turned Q into somewhat of a Stu and adapted him for whatever I'm too lazy to come up with another character for LOL Please don't kill me.

Some videos I’ve created for the Q character.

Les Quatre Bornes de Rêve
(not on Youtube)

Les Quatre Bornes

Some songs that could be considered theme songs.
Celldweller – Under my Feet
Muse – Map of the Problematique
Submersed – Hollow
Kamelot – Human Stain

Roleplay With This Character
This character can be adapted for pretty much any roleplay. If you like what you see and have some sort of plot, contact me and we'll talk. =)
Please also understand that while this character page may focus on certain parts of development, it is entirely possible to have an RP where the character is played much younger, before/during key events happen, or in the future during periods that aren't covered by this bio.

Quatre Bornes Lee, previously known as "Q" but since rebranded himself to the English rendition of "Bornes," had been a freelance mercenary for seven years. It was a hard life, one of constant travel, but he'd managed to come out of nowhere and make it out alive, so he must've been doing something right.

He had been winding things down for the past year, beginning to think maybe he was over the life. At 28, he felt like maybe it was time to stop dealing with the dregs of the Earth. Or maybe being alone was finally catching up to him. But just as any person who deals with people on a constant basis can attest to, one grows to hate all people. And while he perhaps felt the claws of loneliness in him, he had very little desire to open himself up to the nastiness in other human's hearts.

Bornes was known for taking cheap jobs and underselling himself. In the beginning, he was laughed at. But he had made it work. The addict who wanted to kill his friend for beating him in a video game? Done. The spoiled kid who didn't want to deal with her parents anymore? Done. The husband that wanted the payout from the life insurance policy? Not a problem. It was a hard market to sell to, but Bornes had been able to find such people and sell himself to them and make a living from it. It was a bit paradoxical then that someone clearly so good at his craft would devalue himself so much. Every so often a big job would come around his way, but the ones he accepted were few and far between.

This current job was no different. It was in between high risk and low dredge. Bornes figured he'd help out some corrupt cop for a while and it would be his last gig, done for good. He didn't know what he'd do afterward, but he suspected the hush money would be good enough. Or he'd have to kill the employer in self-defense, a scenario that was unfortunately not uncommon. Either way, Bornes would have his money and he'd move on to some place else, just as he always did.
Maybe a nice cabin in the woods, far away from the electricity and lights that gave him headaches.

Which led him to the current situation in the current club. An acquaintance of an acquaintance was looking for a brawn with a brain. A job not many people with brains would want, which led to Bornes being referred. He took the bait and now sat in a corner booth of a loud area crammed with people. He hated it. But he could always use more money for seemingly easy jobs. The initial meetings were always the worst. After that, it was usually smooth sailing.

His green eyes looked up to the clean-cut man who slid into the opposite side of his booth, offering him a drink. Bornes kept a tanned left hand on his own glass of whiskey, which he had been sipping on and was almost empty.
"No thanks," he said, bringing the glass closer to himself as the other man put his hands on the table.

Bornes wore all black: zipped up jacket, pants, belt, and boots. His steel-toe boots had seen more than enough in their lifespan and showed it through ragged tears in the material. Beneath his jacket were two shoulder holsters, the one on the left housed a knife while the one on the right contained a pistol.

His full head of grey hair made him easy to point out in a crowd, but his face wasn't much better off, either. There was a diagonal slash going from the bottom of his left eye, across his nose, to his right cheek, which was further accentuated by two tribal tattoos on either side of his chin. They were solid black triangles, made to represent gills or possibly whiskers, though much thicker. There were four in all. In any case, it was a wonder he'd never been arrested, as he was easy to pick out in a crowd.

His green eyes seemed to almost glow as they took in the other man. His clothes and hair were near flawless. Bornes, on the other hand, managed to take showers and not smell, but otherwise appeared to not give a damn about his appearance.

His first thought was that this potential was too clean. It brought a bad taste in his mouth. Drug addicts and ignorant assholes were bad enough to deal with, but the most awful were narcissists. And to come to a club this packed looking that clean were bad signs. Generally, mafia or Law signs. And Bornes knew this guy wasn't mafia.

"I thought you were supposed to be smart," he grumbled. "You stick out more than I do."

Starting out with an insult probably wasn't the brightest way to start the conversation, but it doubled as proving he wasn't unobservant. He grit his teeth and fought a frown, his face stationary while his eyes watched behind the man to make sure he hadn't been followed.

When Bornes was satisfied, which only took a few seconds, his attention went back to the other man's face. "I didn't get all of what it was you wanted through the others. Sounded like I shadow you for a while. Let's get right to it. This venue was not my choice."

It had been suggested to him by the same person who'd informed him of the job's existence. It was true that it would normally be a fine place to have such a discussion, and probably nothing bad would become of it. All the same, the other man's cleanliness in such a place made him uneasy, in addition to his general distaste for being in loud clubs.
Bornes was a quiet person. He had learned, during their short time together, that Finn was not. Finn had been unexpectedly quiet during the whole suicide setup, and he continued to say nothing when Bornes got in the car.

Shock, maybe? Finn seemed calm. Maybe a little shakey. Borned cocked his head slightly, studying him a bit while he drove. It was clear Finn had never killed anyone. He supposed witnessing a death too was pretty traumatic, especially the first time. But wasn't Finn an investigator? Wasn't he supposed to be used to seeing dead bodies? Maybe Bornes was out of touch with what they actually did. Maybe Finn really was as sheltered as he seemed. It wasn't as if Bornes regularly interacted with detectives or police. His only knowledge of them really was from books and stories from other people, which obviously didn't make the best picture.

While they drove, Bornes moved his sight to the window, watching the world pass through the safety of his sunglasses. His arm still clutched his side lightly. He'd made a mistake. He looked down at his lap with a frown. He should've slapped the gun out of Eddie's hand first. Or gone for the throw first. Or really anything aside from the punch in the face.

He'd opened himself up too much when he turned to kick the gun away- that had been dumb too- and he paid for it. Hand to hand wasn't exactly something he considered himself very good at. His reflexes were good, and he'd definitely had the training, but he didn't use it often. He preferred distance. And when that wasn't available, stealth. It was much easier.

He'd just gotten so annoyed at the supreme waste of time... His anger got the better of him in that brief moment. He wasn't going to tell Finn how to do his job. It seemed to Bornes that Eddie would never have been able to pay anyone back. But maybe the situation wasn't as clear as he'd assumed. He wouldn't know. He wasn't going to ask about it, either. He didn't really care.

The suicide setup made everyone happy. Eddie didn't have to pay anyone, it gave relief to all his debtors, and it had an apology. It was a very nice wrap-up, Bornes mused. He was a little surprised he came up with it. He didn't normally consider himself too empathic.
Finn said he didn't like how 'messy' death was, and Bornes had assumed that was from more of a legal standpoint. With a suicide, Bornes figured everyone involved would be better off. Even if Eddie had been murdered, he was a scumbag. The gun-for-hire doubted people would care to look into it too deeply. With a suicide, there was closure for the family at least.

The car stopped at an intersection and Finn began to speak, breaking Bornes away from his own thoughts. He looked over to Finn, and judging by his face and voice, it was quite clear he was in shock, now. Bornes wondered how bad it was going to get later. If he might have to babysit. A frown pulled at the corners of his lips, but he held it back, going for stoicism. Why Bornes cared about Finn's feelings just then, he wasn't sure.

But it's what I asked of you.

Bornes had so many smart-ass retorts lined up. How it was all a waste of time, and stupid, and Finn should know better, that he shouldn't be in this line of work if he was mentally scarred so easily. But the 28 year old held them back. A good thing he did too, as the next line was well worth it.

Or was it? Did he still want the job? Finn was so bubbly and talkative just an hour a go. Bornes doubted that was going to come back for a while. If at all. Experiencing death changes people.

Or so Bornes was expected to believe, anyway. He'd personally never had a problem with it. And he was good at it. Sometimes he worried why killing didn't seem to bother him... But he decided he was better off not being bothered. He liked his job. Not killing people, but the mental exercise.. Well, figuring out how to kill people without getting caught was... He dropped his head and sighed outwardly at his own thoughts.
It was complicated.

He leaned back in his chair and looked out the windshield, not sure how to answer.
"The light changed," he said, noticing the streetlight and Finn still looking at him, waiting for an answer.

Finn concentrating on driving would buy him some more time to think of one.

He ran through the rolodex of answers in his mind, trying to figure out which answer would have the best possible outcome. You're in the wrong business, I want more money, I can't protect someone who looks for trouble, you'll need to change everything about you, why are you stepping into this world when you clearly don't belong there? I don't know. I made a mistake. I'm not good at this.

He mentally threw the rolodex off the imaginary table and figuratively watched the thing shatter into a thousand pieces.

"Yeah. Sure. Okay," he said finally, awkwardly flustered. Uncharacteristic of him, even though Finn had only known him for an hour and some change.
"I need to check out of my hotel. It's a couple miles from the club."

He seemed to regain his decisiveness as he gave Finn directions to the extended stay he'd been living in for the past few weeks. Inwardly, however, Finn's shock, or whatever it was, had become a little contagious and Bornes was a bit shaken up himself. But not because of what had happened at the mansion. Moreso that Bornes was just confused. He wasn't unsure of himself often. Finn made him question things, and more noticeably himself, and he wasn't sure why. Everything about Finn was out of Bornes's element. Bornes didn't like not knowing what could happen next, and yet here he was, agreeing to indefinitely live with and protect a huge unknown...

And it wasn't even risky in the normal way. It was risky in a completely different, hard to explain way. Something having to do with feelings, a thing that had frankly eluded him for several years. He wasn't comfortable, but he didn't want to just let a learning opportunity pass by like this. He wasn't sure what to think. It was still easy money. Sort of. Right?

It wasn't long before they arrived at the building. Bornes got out of the car and made it to his room, which was on the ground floor in the middle of some other units. He didn't wait for Finn to follow, but if Finn did follow him, he'd hold the door open for him to come in before starting to grab his things.

It was a room with two beds. The bed nearest the window had clothes, a towel, and other miscellaneous things thrown onto it. The bed against a wall closest to the bathroom was the one that had been used for sleeping. In the corner of the room was an upright seabag, still about half full. It was closed and locked with a combination lock. Leaning up next to it was a violin case, which had a combo lock built in. The rest of the room looked about expected. Used glasses, some used ash trays, a few books. All the books were in French. All of them looked like they hadn't been very well taken care of, like they were read often. They were usually shoved in the seabag with the other things, and that showed.

But one book was a hardcover, and much more worn than the others. It sat on an office desk and looked like it had been referred to every day for the last several years. It was barely holding together, and had tape on it in some areas. It was an old textbook concerning military strategy and tactics. Of course, Finn would never know that if he couldn't read French.

Once inside, Bornes went straight to the kitchen. He unplugged his crockpot and dumped everything down the sink before cleaning it. He paid no mind to Finn if Finn was there. Bornes made quick work of the task, and after drying the slow cooker he went to the bed, grabbed some clothes and wrapped it up, taking it to the seabag and unlocking it then placing all of his things inside. He went around picking everything up, leaving the books. This was clearly something he'd done several times before and only took a few minutes.

The last things to go in the bag were the books, which Bornes summarily dumped on top of everything else seemingly without care. Then he locked the bag back up again and picked it up by a handle to toss it up on his unmade bed with a grunt.

A sharp pain shot through his side and he cut his toss short with a whine. He grabbed his side and let his head fall forward on the seabag now on the bed. He stayed in that position, gaining his bearing. There were actually tears in his eyes. Thank god the glasses covered them.

He'd hurt himself a lot more than he assumed before. Yeah, he had pain with every breath, but that much was expected and easy enough to ignore for him. It happened. This though? He was afraid to move too much now. He guessed that badass image he had made for himself in front of Finn was gone now. Stupid.

"Confession," he labored out, his forehead still on the seabag. "I made a mistake before. Eddie was a lot stronger than I thought."

He put his right hand on the seabag and slowly pushed himself back up. "I'll still work for you. I should be fine a week or two..." He trailed off, really ashamed of himself as he voice lowered in volume.
"But I can't carry this."

That was his very backwards way of asking for help to take the seabag to the car.

Assuming, of course, Finn even still wanted to hire him.
Bornes leaned back into his chair with a silent sigh, his gaze moving over to the window. So Anastas was a typical american. Monolingual. Although he wondered if it was typical of immigrant parents to not teach their children. He didn't dwell on it.

He turned back to Ana when questioned. "No," he replied simply, before getting up from the table again. He slid his glass across the table to Ana. "You want a drink?"

He was implying Ana could finish his whiskey. He walked the few feet to the kitchen counter and leaned up against it, preferring to stand and stretch his legs a bit. His hands patted his pants pockets briefly before he decided against smoking. His hands instead reached behind him at his sides to grasp the lip of the countertop.

"Will is probably the most familiar face to me. Everyone else I have dropped out of my life. Including many of business partners." He looked away and forced a shrug. "My job is usually a one and done sort of deal. Will and I have a special arrangement, so I give him a fair cut."

He returned his focus to Ana. "He is not skimming me," he added in defense to the previous conversation they had about Bornes being underpaid. "It is my decision to kick the money back. I happen to like his club is all." He shrugged again, crossing his feet at his ankles while leaning back, then forward, then back again against the counter, having become a little antsy from sitting down for so long.
Femme Fatale was the name of the fetish club Q sat in. He leaned back into the booth, one arm on the back of the seat while his other gripped a scotch on the table before him. One leg was crossed over the other beneath the table, his ankle at a knee. A long black furred tail came from his backside, as well, stretched across the seat and tapping the cushion every so often in boredom. Normally, it was tucked in his pants, but at a fetish club, no one batted an eye.

On the stage was a shibari rope bondage show. His green eyes were trained on the show, but having seen it before, he had little interest in it. He was mostly just passing by the time before his booker agent came around. As always, she was late. She slipped into the opposite side of the both just as he took another sip of his drink.

"Comfortable?" She said. "You look it." Lindsey gave a playful smirk.

Q, also known as Bornes, swallowed, putting his glass down and straightening himself. "Fuck off," he replied. Lindsey was always late. When he'd wisened up to her and began arriving late as well, she started coming by on time. It was a continually rotating time game where Lindsey held all the cards and very much enjoyed pissing Q off.

If he had been younger, Q would've left her by now. But nowadays he was having trouble with his gigs and he knew that if he left Lindsey, he probably wouldn't be able to secure another booker that was willing to work with him. Unfortunately, Lindsey knew that too. It seemed one of the major reasons she kept working with Q was because the entertainment was free.

Lindsey, a being who looked to be a young woman in her 20s who had a date with the punk rock era, rolled her blue eyes. All of this was an illusion, however. Lindsey's true form-- the demon behind the human facade-- had four eye slots that probably were incapable of the action. The pointy bones that made all four brows shadowed those eyes, making them impossible to see. But the four eyes were probably the least horrifying thing on Lindsey's true face. She had an angular facial skeleton with three sharp points on the chin and a huge mouth full of needle teeth. Three tendrils on each side of the head went back that Q could only assume were her ears. Her whole body, in fact, seemed to be just a more scary-looking human without any skin. Instead, it was all bloody muscle and tendon using some bones for accents. What was worse was that all of it was much too large for the tiny girl facade, and bent at grotesque angles to try and fit inside it.

Lindsey's true form was always difficult to look at, but so was any demon's. Sometimes, Q wished he could turn off the ability to see them. Certainly it would make his gut wrench much less often. But he couldn't. Unfortunately, he'd been cursed with the sight, and all demon facades looked like a projected image overlaying the demon's true form. Corrupted, they called it.

The girl shoved a piece of paper across the table to Q, who snorted as he picked it up, reading it. His teeth clenched. "15? Really?" he growled.
Lindsey chuckled, putting an elbow on the table, her fist to her cheek. She gave a wide grin.

"She's gonna wear all black, you big baby."

Bornes glared at her. Lindsey was well aware that he had eyes that were sensitive to light. Meeting someone in the afternoon was going to be difficult for him. Everything for him looked like an over-exposed photograph. Of course it was the worst when the sun was highest. Because of his problems he'd been turning more nocturnal lately.

"Wear a hat," Lindsey offered at Q's blank stare, pointing to her red hair.

She gave a sigh, content with herself and finally slid out of the booth. "Well it's been fun Q, but I've got stuff to do!"

Q watched her begin to skip off before turning around and throwing him a fake kiss. Q crumpled the paper tightly in his fist.

The next day, Q found himself walking up toward the cafe in question. His sunglasses were pushed up against his face, hiding his eyes as well as their bags. His silver hair was parted to the side, in attempt to cover the diagonal scar that slashed across his face from brow to upper lip. His chin had two long skinny black acute triangle tattoos on either side, giving the appearance of tribal whiskers or gills.

He wore a plain white t-shirt with a light black jacket over it. Under the jacket were two shoulder holsters. Under the right armpit was a pistol and under the left was a knife. Under the shirt was an old silver necklace with a green gem on it. A black leather belt held up his pants of the same color, his tail hidden inside one of the pant legs. His boots finished off the outfit. They too were black, but ragged from heavy use around the steel toe and probably never shined.

With the sun high in the sky on this insipidly beautiful day, most everything was white in the 26 year old's vision, and depth was incredibly difficult to perceive. It was why he stopped and stood under a nearby tree, staring at the nearby cafe for a few minutes. He was trying to figure out the best method of approach without embarrassing himself. A person who looked like he did needed to be as intimidating as possible at all times. He used the time to discern where everything might be, how he would get around obstacles, and where he would sit. Like a pilot carefully landing their craft on a carrier, everything was planned and calculated.

Then, he noticed a woman, his woman, he assumed, sit outside. Calista. She had dark long hair and was wearing a black dress, as Lindsey had described the night prior. She was early, he thought. But better early than late like Lindsey.

He finally began his walk to the cafe and stopped behind the chair opposite of Calista's at her table.
"Calista?" he questioned. "Q," He introduced himself once he was sure it was her.

He put his left hand on the back of the empty chair. "Would you care to sit inside?" he pointed in that direction.
He hoped she would sit in the cafe. Then maybe they'd have more shade because secretly he was fuming at this whole situation. His eyes were already sore.
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Undeveloped Characters
Characters that aren't fully developed.... Yet. Sometimes make appearances as side characters.

A dancer, probably works at a fetish club Q frequents. Image.

Meri is a 25+ year old girl who works at a fetish club. She is naturally albino, and dresses herself up as a zombie for the club. She begins as a girl who plays dumb, like the zombie she frequently portrays. But she quickly becomes Q's favorite call girl, and as their odd relationship strengthens, she develops an attitude and a strong will.

Over time, she becomes a very stubborn and mouthy woman. She takes an interest in Q's work (assassination) and has been present for a few of his jobs. After knowing eachother for a few years, Meri becomes Q's confidant, and they share a mutually abusive relationship. She has bailed him out of jail at least once. Image.

Anthro Maned Wolf. 30 years old, he is an explorer with an aim for writing an encyclopedia about the world. Image.

Mid-level demon with the facade of a small college girl. The demon's too big for the girl body, but managed to scrunch in there all awkwardly. Bit of a tomboy, has quite a mouth on her. Never outright said in rp, but she's mtf. Appearance (Unlike all other images in this thread, this one is just a faceclaim and wasn't commissioned by me).