Post by HOLDEN MOORE on Jan 28, 2012 0:19:40 GMT -5
...Holden Andrew Moore*
*"Don't cry 'wolf', shepherd boy, when there's no wolf!"*
[/size]*"Don't cry 'wolf', shepherd boy, when there's no wolf!"*
...basics*
name Holden Andrew Moore
nickname none that he's okay with sharing..
age Twenty
gender Male
grade Junior in college
hometown Pittsburgh, Pa
sexuality Straight
personification Wolf from 'the boy who cried wolf'
status Dormant (though not for long, at all)
face claim MikeyfuckinWay
...appearance*
hair color Brunette, though sometimes he gets bored and colors the top portion blonde for that whole 'two-toned' fancy-pants look. It's pretty badass, no jokin hoboken.
eye color Hazel
build Slim and slightly muscular
height 5' 10"
clothing style Rock and roll's the way to go; he wears mostly band tee shirts, jeans, boots, muscle-cut tanks, and all that typical attire associated with being an art school punk.
distinctive traits His awkward knees.
...personal*
personality
Loyal - Holden, while weary at first about strangers due to the 'stranger danger' talks of his teacher parents; once acclimated and accustomed to having a person in his life, will be loyal until proven foolish. Not having any siblings left a young Holden to make his own friends. While they are few and far between, he treats them just as he would his family, which he holds near and dear to him. He didn't want to leave them for his dream, but understands that it was the right choice to obtain what he needed out of life. This can be a problem though, because if he trusts someone enough to adopt them into his wayward tree of friends, he'll fight on their behalf regardless if he believes the cause or not.
Confident - While never completely a 'star' in any aspect in his life, Holden was graced with enough common sense to realize that the only way one achieves anything in life is to display a sense of confidence; regardless of if you are, in fact, confident. This makes him vocal about many things that he should perhaps shut his trap about, as well as doing things that might not make a lick of sense to anyone not residing in his own little head. His sweltering sense of confidence has lead him into an almost childish belief that his word is law. This happens to get Holden into a bit of trouble from time to time, and with the proper buttons pushed, tends to lean on the side of anger on more than one or two occasions. He is quite stubborn once set in his ways, so changing them takes a strong will and patience, something he lacks in arguments.
Crafty - Yes. The boy loves his arts and crafts. He prides himself on the work he does; Holden will spare no expense, be it time or actual money, to finish a project he's got his mind on. His dedication to the arts has also led to another sort of craft though; the kind that's needed to deal with a majority of the people in his life. He sees the games people play very well, be it from his wallflower tendencies during high school or that wolfy instinct that's buried away in his psyche, and has adapted to situations that may have otherwise ended badly. If there's something he wants, he will obtain it. It's the hunter way. Besides, his parents taught him to earn his way though life; enough so that, while they do send him money for living expenses now, Holden will at some point not need their charity.
past
Margret met Andrew Moore her sophomore year of college at the University of Pittsburgh. They both happened to be education majors and on no particular afternoon he approached her with a very awkward question. "Excuse me.... You don't know me, but I've happened to notice you around campus, and I think you're very attractive. Would you by any chance like to have sex with me tonight?" It was a ploy to put their students into awkward social settings and learn how they adapt. As luck would have it though, they actually got along really well and after a whirlwind romance of a year, Margret, by accident, became pregnant with Andrew's child. The two wed and moved into a two story home in Bellevue, Pennsylvania. Somehow, they both managed to finish their degrees and raise their son well enough; as well as they could, with a bit of help here and their from Andrew's brother, Mark, whose logging business was fairly simple compared to raising a child.
Holden spent youth being badass as a little boy could be, with camping trips nearly every weekend at his uncle Mark's in Crafton. Sometimes his parents would join in, though most times they let him wandered around woods own his own accord. Not that he struggled to survive; what Uncle Mark lacked in child-raising skills, he made up for in general survival and common sense knowledge. The young Holden, even at an early age, had an affinity for taking odd things he found on his nature hikes and turning them into this or that art project.
School for Holden was pretty typical. He never got any grief about his parents being teachers because his mother taught preschool and his father college classes. He was well rounded in his education, though he had a passion for the arts. He tried drama for a semester in high school, but found he pretty much hated it completely. While his parents never pushed him into music, like most high school boys, Holden managed enough through Youtube and various websites to teach himself the basics of a guitar, though he only ever played it for the ladies. Throughout school, he had a small circle of friends who weren't always the best of influences - the kid smoked a little pot now and again but decided cigarettes were better. He wasn't stupid though! Holden graduated in the top ten of his class, so he was smart enough to take pre-college courses, but not brainy enough to actually excel in them to gain anything more than a few grand in scholarships for art school.
Knowing that art was the way he wanted to head, Holden signed himself up for a two year course in 2D Animation at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh. It was close enough to home that he didn't have to do student housing, but chose to instead rent a four bedroom apartment in Millvale with a few friends. All were boys he'd known through high school; two of which joined him at the Art Institute, one in photography and the other in culinary arts. The other two decided to try their luck at the Pittsburgh Technical Institute. They partied through their first two semesters - drank regularly because that's all there is to do in a steel town, and smoked a little more pot. Cigarettes were still better. This ended as soon as Holden's grades seemed to be affected and the boy buckled down and managed, rather well, to pass.
present
After finishing his associates degree in 2D Animation at the Art Institute, Holden realized that if he was going to make it anywhere in the art world that he had to get out of dodge. He was presented with the options of NY or LA, and having no ill will towards the snow or cold, decided that perhaps the closer of the two was the best choice. So, after a month of debating amongst himself and his family on when to leave, Holden packed his bags and decided it was one of those 'now or never' deals. Besides, with his father taking point at Google, it wasn't like they'd really have the need for him at home; mother would have plenty to do with her own job, social outings and rigorous tennis team practicing.
With the help of his parents and his uncle, Holden is currently staying in a hotel with some of his things as he starts his search for a place to live, an acceptable secondary income (his parents still take care of him mostly), and an acceptable school to further his education of art. Once settled, Holden may leave town here and there to train it back to Pittsburgh, but for the most part, will spend his free time doing shit, like work or school or creating more art. His parents will likely mail the rest of his things to him, along with that monthly allowance they are so generous with - sometimes it pays to be an only child. Until he finds a place though, he's out hitting the pavement, or relaxing in central park, people watching.
family
Mother - Margret Moore - 43 - Preschool teacher, Wife and mother
Father - Andrew Moore - 40 - Head of Google, Pittsburgh
Uncle - Mark Moore - 44 - Owner of a logging company
likes
Art - Having grown up in such an industrial setting, Holden has taken a liking to turning the pipes and hunks of metal littering his backyard neighborhood into works of art. To him, they're not trash, they're the building blocks for his next installment. Now that he's in the big city though, there's no telling what he'll use as the focus for his art.
Lamb - This is a subconscious nod to the spirit residing in that little ole scull of his. In his story, the wolf got his 'just desserts', a buffet of Mary's little lamb racks. Nom nom nom.
Texting - Cut the boy some slack. He already uprooted himself from his friends and family for the sake of his career; so, he tries to keep in touch with them often.
People Watching - Creeper love is deeper love. Just kidding. But really, it is.
Peanut Butter - Oh my god! You ever seen those cones that you stick peanut butter in and the dog goes wild over? Well, it's sort of like that. His Achilles heal is Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Yum!
Causing Trouble - Like in his story, the wolf inside loves the idea of 'trolling the newbs' and kicking up a bit of fuss for the sake of a good laugh. Nothing serious, well, at least not life threateningly serious.
dislikes
Feeling Alone - Though he had a rather great upbringing, there's always been that nagging sense of that whole 'one man wolf pack feeling'. All pun intended.
Unfinished Art - If this boy sets out to paint a picture at midnight, despite having class or work the next morning, you'd better believe he's doing either on little to no sleep. Seeing unfinished work causes him to become slightly irritated if not vocal about it. JUST FINISH YOUR PROJECT ALREADY!
One word/letter replies to texts - They make him so upset that the boy sometimes will throw his phone at various things (like his bed, or the couch, nowhere where it might actually get damaged) or grumble haughtily.
Bad jokes - Oh, so you call me a puppy? Screw you. Not funny. Ill-taste jokes are just not 'all good in the hood', bro. If you lack a brain to make a joke funny, just keep your mouth shut.
Chick Flicks - They're all gushy and emotional and make no sense. In what world does the boy get the girl in the end anyway? The more gore, the better actually, so happy endings are just lame as shit.
Bugs - They're gross as shit and live in the dirt. Typically, if he has to handle the business of killing them, their guts are used in his next art project.
other notes
...literature*
book title The Boy Who Cried 'Wolf'
backstory So, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, or just a hop, skip, and a jump away, there was this little brat who lived in some poor sheep herding community. Anyways, he thought he was a badass so when that dummy got put on guard watch, he'd play all sorts of stupid pranks on his friends and family (ie, anyone who was stupid enough to believe this twerp). As he'd been told to call out if ever he saw a wolf, this asshole thought it'd be all sorts of shits and giggles if he troll-la-lol'd the hell out of everyone by repeatedly crying out "WOLF!" when obviously I wasn't around.
Seriously though, did he not think I'd catch on? After a few times of being a royal dick to his friends and family, fewer and fewer of them showed up to kick invisible wolf ass until eventually no one came when he called. And that's where I moved in for a buffet of lamb racks with a nice Chianti sauce. Yum! Guess that served him right though, him being pant-less and all cause he caught them on fire from all that lying. Ain't even mad though, I liked the free meal, and I scared the hell out of him. All in all, I led a pretty bamf existance.
...roleplayer*
name jess
age twenty-four
gender female
rp experience 9 years
how you found ouac alice, olley, & stark
rp sample With the roar of the small army bringing up the rear, Renegade was charged and ready for their battle at hand. They bid Anarchy farewell when they all hopped out of the mustang and it wasn't long before the even more decked out than he Death reared his pretty little head with a fucking flamethrower. Renegade was impressed. Thoroughly. The rusted steel pipe in his hand had nothing on the weapons of his partners in crime, but he was content with the thought of the blood he'd shed and the skulls he'd bust using it tonight. The leader of the Horsemen waited until the others in his troupe had joined him up front to begin the march towards the BL/ind building.
They were out for blood tonight, and there would be plenty to spill. Their group of rebel help was kicking up a fuss already; knocking over and setting fire to garbage canisters and picking fights with passersby who were all trying to escape at that point. There were no innocent people tonight as far as Renegade was concerned.
First to greet them was a group of ten or so draculoids who had just happened to be in the wrong place in the wrong time, a meeting to discuss their patrol through the city for that evening. Too bad for them. A cynical grin spread across his features, and Renegade gave a holler to call attention; though to be honest they didn't really need it. The group of draculoids looked absolutely terrified, and for just reasoning. They looked scared to death actually, and two of them immediately booked it as the others pulled out their blasters to greet the rebels. Not the best of ideas on their behalf; between the drawn blasters of their own group and the hand to hand weaponry, they were just a crust of bread that made them hungry for more.
Coward was just not a word in Ruthless Renegade's vocabulary. So the sight of the two men running off caused him to slip out a sound that resembled a laugh; he made a run for them as his brothers and sisters doling our their own death to the others, catching one of the runners rather quickly with a hearty swing to the back of his leg. He screamed out in anguish dropped to the pavement. The sound of the gut-wrenching pain in his voice as he pleaded for his life prompted yet another laugh-like sound from the fearless leader. This was just too nice.
"Fraid that's not in the cards for you tonight. Pity I can't spare you, if only to see the look on your face when we slaughter the rest of the cattle." Renegade taunted, his arms raising, lifting the steel pipe above his head. The drac shuffled for his blaster but before he could even unlatch his holster, the happy horsemen had brought his weapon of choice down with a sharp crack to the man's skull. The impact caused a bit of blood to splatter on his pants and long jacket. No matter. Not the first time, and with the way tonight was shaping up, wouldn't be the last.
Renegade yanked the steel pipe from his skull and shook off the bits of brain matter before joining the crowd as they rushed on towards the glass doors of BL/industries. It seemed that there were a handful more dracs out and trying their damnedest to defend their holy shrine to all that was vile and lifeless. The horsemen leader ran forward a bit more, securing his pipe on his persons before drawing a butcher knife from the inside of his jacket. He caught another drac who had his blaster raised to the backside of Static, who was busy burying his own weapon into an agent, and rushed him. "No sir. Not my bottom bitch, you don't!" He yelled, half in jest and half out of irritation at the thought of him getting a shot in. It caught the drac off guard and the man twisted to face him, shooting off his blaster in Renegade's direction. Lucky for him, his was so distracted that the shot missed and he didn't wait around for him to take aim better before Renegade moved on him. He brought the butcher knife down on the man's arm first, and the blade caught in his bone. The drac dropped his blaster and clutched at Renegade's free arm. Through the screaming, he once again yanked the butcher knife from his arm, swinging it into the neck of their enemy.
God. The blood. It brought the warm and fuzzy feeling to his toes.
With another chop, Renegade had effectively severed the man's head from his body. He picked up the head and pushed his way to the front of the crowd beating down the doors.
"HAVE SOME CLASS YOU REBELS. JESUS H. MARY AND JOSEPH!" Renegade, filled with his gleeful pride at the chaos around him, slipped the hand with his bloodied butcher knife up to press the intercom. A voice on the other end answered, questioning their identity and purpose.
With the utmost seriousness, Renegade cleared his throat, raising the severed head and giving the glass door a knock with it. "Just a bunch of fucked up kids coming to play! Let us in, or we'll huff, and puff, and blow your little fucking home to pieces!"