Post by Esteban on Sept 26, 2011 12:32:18 GMT -6
Tell us about yourself, if you please.
Name/alias: Tentacle_Hentai
Age: 19
How long have you been RPing? I think it’s been 4 years.
Do you have any other characters on the site? Julian Bael, Clementine Roshan.
Your character: bare bones.
Name: Esteban Lorenzo (Husband 152)
Age: 39
Location: Chicago, wandering
Immune or Carrier? Infected
Face Claim: Charlie Sheen (before infection)
Picture:
Brief appearance description: Before: Skinny and tan, with thick black hair cut short. He had a stern expression, though he showed a sense of humor almost all the time. He had a large mouth, dark brown eyes, a petite, sharp nose, and was overall bony, barely an ounce of fat or muscle all around.
After: He retained his skinniness with his transformation, at least concerning the average size and shape of most infected. His beige, dirt encrusted fur covers most of his body, though it’s patchy at places, and his red eyes match the sternness of his old self. His hands are large, and his fingers in particular are longer than most beasts, though his body is slender and compact.
Let's really get inside their head...
Personality: Esteban was the quiet jokester as a child, snickering at the back of the class whenever one of his pranks led to chaos, or at the expense of other student’s taking the blame. Because of how subtle and seemingly innocent he came off, he was never expected to be at the foot of most trouble, nor given much attention by the teachers or other students. He was a hard worker, however, though it meant little in the projects of Chicago.
He grew into a more ambitious person after that period, though impersonal and apathetic towards people around him and the crime and impoverished setting he was a part of. While others wished to get out of this setting, and even more joined gangs and spread the turmoil, he was always in the middle, humored by their attempts to find a place for themselves by ironically using others to guide their paths. Esteban had no real specialties, no real desires, and no real care, yet throughout his life he dabbled in everything and never quit, like with jobs, schools, and subtle subterfuge.
When he had met Clementine, however, his outlook on life completely turned. She was his passion, his life. He did everything to bring him above the others that worshipped her, helping her with her unknown plans with utmost enthusiasm. He was never one to worship, but it was Clementine that got him to feel his first tinge of loneliness and lack of achievement.
As an infected, he is easily as brutal and powerful as they come, though his body forces him towards more acrobatic maneuvers and stealthy engagements than towards the mentality of a berserker. He hunts very rarely, eating once and using the energy to entertain his bestial self, hanging off ledges or appreciating the smells of the dystopian landscape surrounding him.
Likes:
Chaos, especially when he’s the cause
Clementine’s smell
Heights/rooftops
Climbing
Smashing glass
Dislikes:
Order and cleanliness
Eating
Fast-paced movement
Quietness
Strengths:
Acrobatics
Moving silently
His sense of smell
Reactant
Weaknesses:
Impulsiveness
Rather weak
Lethargic
Fears:
Family: Christina Lorenzo, Mother (Dead), Augusto Lorenzo, Father (Infected), Jorje Lorzenzo, Brother (Infected)
History: Esteban was born in Chicago, barely before their illegal immigrant family settled in the south-side. With barely any money, Esteban and his older brother Jorje found cheap ways to occupy themselves, though mostly trying to avoid trouble with the gangs that ravaged their neighborhood. They both grew to enjoy the anxiety of hiding, adding risks by stealing whatever the gang members left open or in their unlocked cars. With big enough gains, they’d buy random junk at a small shop, usually things that could be used to further their dare-devil lifestyle. Outside, they’d pop tires or brew up disgusting scents with whatever old, rotting perishable they could find. In school, they’d sabotage desk legs, steal test answers and tell everyone else the wrong answer, and find ways to place blame on other students, whom only a few knew that the two quiet brothers were ever the cause of.
By the time high school came about, there were very few ways to keep up the subtlety without choosing sides. While Jorje ended up joining a gang, ironically with many of the people he played jokes on, Esteban stuck with his studies, leaving his brother and his old life behind. His father, being somewhat decent with English, ended up joining a construction union. Esteban’s goal was to join him and, with time, find a family and move out of the projects.
Him and his brother hadn’t talked much during that period, and both stuck with their paths aggressively. One night, however, changed Esteban’s outlook forever. His brother, being well versed in pranks, had grown his influence with his talent for sabotage. He would jack the tires from the cars of rival gangs, study the habits and schedules of the members and mug them when they were vulnerable, and eventually made their small-time crew into the biggest drug-trading carta on the south side. Jorje grew fat with wealth… and fame. Half the time forgetting to keep a low profile, soon enough all gangs knew of him, and where he lived.
It was dusk on a Thursday when their house was targeted in a drive-by. Jorje was outside drinking cheap wine with a few crew members, while Esteban studied for his senior final. Within seconds, bullets sprayed upon the house, Jorje shot to pieces with the others while Esteban hid, shattered glass showering on him and badly cutting his arms and back. As the ambulance came, many minutes later than it should have taken, Esteban saw his brother’s body; the last time his family heard his voice was a cry of anguish.
He spent only a week in the hospital, saying nothing to his family or the detectives that went to speak of Jorje’s murder. He not only skipped his final and school from then on, he shut himself in his room, a small antenna television his only company. For two years he laid in his bed, barely eating, never speaking, until he saw something peculiar on the news.
Cults spreading dissention and rioting across each major city. Rabid beasts being released after each secret venue. A woman, fair haired, a fiery voice, passion oozing from every word she spoke. She was surreal to him, someone who saw life nothing as he knew it. She was coming to Chicago. He had to find her.
His legs were weak, and he had no car, nor the energy to make such a trip, yet he did not let that truth hinder his goal. On all four legs he crawled on the crowded side-walk to Grant Park, no one offering to help or even giving him eye-contact… but as his body gave in and collapsed, he was swept away by a people laden in white robes, covering their faces. Silently, they lifted him, the rest of the crowds huddled to the walls of buildings, saying nothing though showing fear. He saw not where they took him, nor where they dropped him, but the his tongue tasted warm milk and a woman’s finger. As his eyes opened, and there he fell in love with Clementine’s smiling face.
He worshipped her as his family worshipped Jesus, loved her as one would love an angel, and lusted for her as one overcome by a temptress. He was Husband 152, the most likely candidate for her hand (in his eyes). With his help, Clementine kept far away from the eyes of the police, yet was given more chances to spread her “truth”. They would make love on random occasions, though she made sure she wasn’t made pregnant, as he was not and never would be her suitor. And in the end, they recruited more than 6000 followers on the road, even more through internet organizations. Just when she made her biggest steps towards forming a true dominion, the Mange Virus had come. And among the many followers affected or killed was Esteban.
Esteban crawled from out from the piles of dead cultists a new creature. No thought ran across its head, no goal, no destination, nor did even Clementine come to mind. He feasted upon the barely-alive, and ran back to the one place that remained in his primal memories, the last tinge of pain and regret he could feel, so intense that it surpassed his bestial mindlessness: Chicago.
What do you think of this situation? It could be worse.
RP sample: I’ll sucker punch you in the dick.
Name/alias: Tentacle_Hentai
Age: 19
How long have you been RPing? I think it’s been 4 years.
Do you have any other characters on the site? Julian Bael, Clementine Roshan.
Your character: bare bones.
Name: Esteban Lorenzo (Husband 152)
Age: 39
Location: Chicago, wandering
Immune or Carrier? Infected
Face Claim: Charlie Sheen (before infection)
Picture:
Brief appearance description: Before: Skinny and tan, with thick black hair cut short. He had a stern expression, though he showed a sense of humor almost all the time. He had a large mouth, dark brown eyes, a petite, sharp nose, and was overall bony, barely an ounce of fat or muscle all around.
After: He retained his skinniness with his transformation, at least concerning the average size and shape of most infected. His beige, dirt encrusted fur covers most of his body, though it’s patchy at places, and his red eyes match the sternness of his old self. His hands are large, and his fingers in particular are longer than most beasts, though his body is slender and compact.
Let's really get inside their head...
Personality: Esteban was the quiet jokester as a child, snickering at the back of the class whenever one of his pranks led to chaos, or at the expense of other student’s taking the blame. Because of how subtle and seemingly innocent he came off, he was never expected to be at the foot of most trouble, nor given much attention by the teachers or other students. He was a hard worker, however, though it meant little in the projects of Chicago.
He grew into a more ambitious person after that period, though impersonal and apathetic towards people around him and the crime and impoverished setting he was a part of. While others wished to get out of this setting, and even more joined gangs and spread the turmoil, he was always in the middle, humored by their attempts to find a place for themselves by ironically using others to guide their paths. Esteban had no real specialties, no real desires, and no real care, yet throughout his life he dabbled in everything and never quit, like with jobs, schools, and subtle subterfuge.
When he had met Clementine, however, his outlook on life completely turned. She was his passion, his life. He did everything to bring him above the others that worshipped her, helping her with her unknown plans with utmost enthusiasm. He was never one to worship, but it was Clementine that got him to feel his first tinge of loneliness and lack of achievement.
As an infected, he is easily as brutal and powerful as they come, though his body forces him towards more acrobatic maneuvers and stealthy engagements than towards the mentality of a berserker. He hunts very rarely, eating once and using the energy to entertain his bestial self, hanging off ledges or appreciating the smells of the dystopian landscape surrounding him.
Likes:
Chaos, especially when he’s the cause
Clementine’s smell
Heights/rooftops
Climbing
Smashing glass
Dislikes:
Order and cleanliness
Eating
Fast-paced movement
Quietness
Strengths:
Acrobatics
Moving silently
His sense of smell
Reactant
Weaknesses:
Impulsiveness
Rather weak
Lethargic
Fears:
Family: Christina Lorenzo, Mother (Dead), Augusto Lorenzo, Father (Infected), Jorje Lorzenzo, Brother (Infected)
History: Esteban was born in Chicago, barely before their illegal immigrant family settled in the south-side. With barely any money, Esteban and his older brother Jorje found cheap ways to occupy themselves, though mostly trying to avoid trouble with the gangs that ravaged their neighborhood. They both grew to enjoy the anxiety of hiding, adding risks by stealing whatever the gang members left open or in their unlocked cars. With big enough gains, they’d buy random junk at a small shop, usually things that could be used to further their dare-devil lifestyle. Outside, they’d pop tires or brew up disgusting scents with whatever old, rotting perishable they could find. In school, they’d sabotage desk legs, steal test answers and tell everyone else the wrong answer, and find ways to place blame on other students, whom only a few knew that the two quiet brothers were ever the cause of.
By the time high school came about, there were very few ways to keep up the subtlety without choosing sides. While Jorje ended up joining a gang, ironically with many of the people he played jokes on, Esteban stuck with his studies, leaving his brother and his old life behind. His father, being somewhat decent with English, ended up joining a construction union. Esteban’s goal was to join him and, with time, find a family and move out of the projects.
Him and his brother hadn’t talked much during that period, and both stuck with their paths aggressively. One night, however, changed Esteban’s outlook forever. His brother, being well versed in pranks, had grown his influence with his talent for sabotage. He would jack the tires from the cars of rival gangs, study the habits and schedules of the members and mug them when they were vulnerable, and eventually made their small-time crew into the biggest drug-trading carta on the south side. Jorje grew fat with wealth… and fame. Half the time forgetting to keep a low profile, soon enough all gangs knew of him, and where he lived.
It was dusk on a Thursday when their house was targeted in a drive-by. Jorje was outside drinking cheap wine with a few crew members, while Esteban studied for his senior final. Within seconds, bullets sprayed upon the house, Jorje shot to pieces with the others while Esteban hid, shattered glass showering on him and badly cutting his arms and back. As the ambulance came, many minutes later than it should have taken, Esteban saw his brother’s body; the last time his family heard his voice was a cry of anguish.
He spent only a week in the hospital, saying nothing to his family or the detectives that went to speak of Jorje’s murder. He not only skipped his final and school from then on, he shut himself in his room, a small antenna television his only company. For two years he laid in his bed, barely eating, never speaking, until he saw something peculiar on the news.
Cults spreading dissention and rioting across each major city. Rabid beasts being released after each secret venue. A woman, fair haired, a fiery voice, passion oozing from every word she spoke. She was surreal to him, someone who saw life nothing as he knew it. She was coming to Chicago. He had to find her.
His legs were weak, and he had no car, nor the energy to make such a trip, yet he did not let that truth hinder his goal. On all four legs he crawled on the crowded side-walk to Grant Park, no one offering to help or even giving him eye-contact… but as his body gave in and collapsed, he was swept away by a people laden in white robes, covering their faces. Silently, they lifted him, the rest of the crowds huddled to the walls of buildings, saying nothing though showing fear. He saw not where they took him, nor where they dropped him, but the his tongue tasted warm milk and a woman’s finger. As his eyes opened, and there he fell in love with Clementine’s smiling face.
He worshipped her as his family worshipped Jesus, loved her as one would love an angel, and lusted for her as one overcome by a temptress. He was Husband 152, the most likely candidate for her hand (in his eyes). With his help, Clementine kept far away from the eyes of the police, yet was given more chances to spread her “truth”. They would make love on random occasions, though she made sure she wasn’t made pregnant, as he was not and never would be her suitor. And in the end, they recruited more than 6000 followers on the road, even more through internet organizations. Just when she made her biggest steps towards forming a true dominion, the Mange Virus had come. And among the many followers affected or killed was Esteban.
Esteban crawled from out from the piles of dead cultists a new creature. No thought ran across its head, no goal, no destination, nor did even Clementine come to mind. He feasted upon the barely-alive, and ran back to the one place that remained in his primal memories, the last tinge of pain and regret he could feel, so intense that it surpassed his bestial mindlessness: Chicago.
What do you think of this situation? It could be worse.
RP sample: I’ll sucker punch you in the dick.