[Warning some mature content]
*Cursing and references to violence*
Example RP:
The night was cold, but he had protected himself against the bite with layers. A dark blue hooded sweater over his street cloths made the first barrier, a thick brown leather jacket lined with fur came second, the four walls of this dingy dive bar third and the bottle of whisky he'd purchased with the damn 'child support money' was his final armor against the cold. 'Kick me out of my own house goddamnit' he wasn't sure if they were thoughts or words. His mind was as the color of his whiskey - dark, his cloths dirty as the cup. Somewhere under the alcohol and anger he felt bad about spending the money - she had the damn house though! Prison didn't pay wages and no-one was buying drugs from and ex-cop.
He flipped opened the Lugazette, the headline blared at him:
MONSTERS AMONG US - LEGAL LYCANS WERE A MISTAKE
"God damn hate speech" he growled through a cleft in the right side of his lips where a lycan claw had gone threw it. He bore many wounds from lycan but he didn't hate all lycans for it. Hell he bore many wounds from humans too. Sure, he'd damn well rather fight a human then a werewolf but articles like this, made you cringe and only exacerbate matters. They were dangerous but on the other hand he had been in the ghettos, policed those streets, the poverty was real the life was hard to get out of and if you don't hard to cope with. Subconsciously he took a sip of his whiskey to for punctuation and turned the page.
“You good Hal” came the barmaids voice raspy from to many cigarettes. To him it sounded like a bards harp, he gave a nod without making eye contact. He'd been a handsome man before prison, but prisons a bad place for cops and cop killers alike – he was both and there was no were to hide. Cheep metal molds implants replaced most of the chicklets he'd lost in the pen, the ones that were still his own were chipped and nicotine stained. In the dark a womans hand could mistake his face for a topographical map, of the Himalayas scar tissue from cuts from shivs, fists, boots, glass and burns from boiling water marred the skin.
He'd returned home after ten years... Not home 'where home used to be', he thought bitterly as he raised the glass in an attempt to wash the taste of betrayal from his pallet. Had he really expected her to wait, how could she, ten years was as long as they'd been together before the sentence. The boys are supposed to grow up without a father figure because you couldn't control your temper. The logic was little more then a garden hose to temper an inferno, but it's the thought that counts he mused.
Nature called and he stood from his stool and began to make his way toward the washroom. His motor skills gave protest but he managed to wrangle them and drive his legs forward toward their destination. He succeeded in his mission with a shake and a sigh of relief before turning to wash up. He stared himself in the mirror through defeated brown eyes and blurry vision. He ran a strong calloused mitt front to back across his brown hair nervously, assessing himself and finding it lacking. His auburn hair was shaven on both sides while long and slicked back in the middle, it was the only part of him that made him feel normal, over the years, like he was still a detective. He drank water from the tap and dampened his face in a feeble attempt to gather his sobriety. As he made his way back to his chair the door of the bar opened and in walked the familiar face he was waiting for.
(I'm planning on posting this as a thread eventually and having who ever walks in maybe lead Haloran toward on of the factions or whatever is going on)
*Still under construction*
Name: Halloran O'Daire
Nicknames: Hatchet Hal, Hatchet-faced Hal, Hal, Hatch, Metalmouth
Age: 42
Weight: 250 lbs.
Height: 6'3”
Race: Lutetian Human
Faction: None currently. Interested in L&L Solutions
Family:
Father - Sean O'Daire (Estranged)
Mother - Aisling O'Daire (Estranged)
Wife - Roisin O'Daire (Asking for divorcee)
Sons - Jack (18) & Darragh (12) O'Daire (No visitation)
Wife's boyfriend - Antoine LeClaire
Description: Hal was a large, imposing but handsome man before prison high cheek bones, definitive jawline wearing his hair with both sides shaved and the center slicked back. After prison he is hard to look at, especially for those who knew him before. His hair style is the same yet from his hairline down Halloran's features are seldom recognized without close inspection. Huge masses of scars tissue cross his body and face, he has a newly cleft lip from where a steel boot pinched it between itself and his teeth- most of which have been knocked out and replaced with metal ones. His athletic frame has changed to that of a huling ogre, years in prison muscle has been packed on muscle from a mix of survival, boredom and habit.
(I Imagine a mix of Marv (Sin City) and Joe Miller (The Expanse))
Personality: He had a strong sense of justice with a streak of violence. That was before jail, after he seems to be somewhat lost, after countless beatings from the Lycans he thought he was protecting and the cops he used to call brothers it's shaken his foundation. These days he just wants to make some money again to support his kids and find some sort of self-worth.
History: “I'd had it all, was a bright, young detective shooting up the ranks, handsome, beautiful wife, two healthy boys. I was the first of my friends to put a down payment on a house, nice neighborhood too! Maybe I drank a lil' to much a lil' frequent but I had reasons to celebrate, I was successful. There wasn't a case I couldn't solve, I put so many crooks behind bars... Damn were they happy to see me when I shuffled in draped in chains.” *Hiccups*
“Fu... getting ahead of myself. You know why I ended up in the slammer of course?”
“Yeah, killing that cop all violent like... That's why they call me Hatchet Hal, before prison and it became Hatchet-faced Hal – don't think I don't hear 'em whisper it behind my back” he sucked back as much phlegm as he could a spat.
“What the papers didn't tell you about cop killing Hatch here is that he was the Wolf-flayer. This serial murderin' piece of shiet skinning innocent lychan in mass. The sicko, I found him over this little pup about to make him one his damn victims, but he slipped away from me - running ain't my strong suite.” He took a drag a cigarette whether cause or effect was ambiguous. “Saved the kid though, that always settles my soul a bit. This creep the Wolf-Flayer thought he could get away, lil' did he know I never forget a face. I was on a different job, had to talk to some firemen who were the first first responders to a scene, and I saw him, dead to rights I grabbed one of them firemans axes and the rest is history...” He grinned pale blue light from the gas lamp glinting off his metal teeth and contouring his scarred face dramatically.
“They said they couldn't prove it, more like they didn't care cause it was Lycans, that and they didn't want the bad press of a cop killing wolf pups. Ten fucking years they gave me. Missed more then half my oldest boys life and the lil' one doesn't even know me...” He looked around and whoever he'd been talking to must have left, putting the bottle to his lips once again he stretched out on the park bench.
Contacts:
Old Partner/apprentice/commander on the force [Available]
Someone he met in prison and had a good relationship with [Available]
Someone he met in prison and had a bad relationship with [Available]
Someone he arrested or arrested their father years ago [Available]
Werewolf he saved from the Wolf-Flayer [Available]
Abilities:
Strong and tough: Pretty self-explanatory, when it comes to human strength Hal is built like an oxen. His toughness was garnered through tears, blood and broken bones.
Fights dirty: Prison taught him how to make a weapon out of anything, you will almost never find Halloran unarmed and if you do smart money would be that he's about to be reaching for the closes makeshift one he can find.
Quickdraw: Whether from the holster or a fold in his jacket, Hal has been in more than a handful of life and death situations. A lot of the time they become that way in the blink of an eye, slower men are in shallow graves.
Flaws:
Often Drunk: Sometimes it's hard to aim when your under the label on your second bottle of whiskey.
Quick to anger: Hal is easily baited into acting rashly, this can be used against him.
Lonely & Loyal: He misses his wife, kids and his crew on the force, Hal is often looking for comradery and companionship and can be manipulated.
Smoker: Long distance running is not his forte.
