Post by Sathanas on Oct 21, 2008 23:30:54 GMT 1
OOC: I decided to use Spider again, because Tim is fairly sophomoric. I like him, but he needs a considerable amount of work.
This Bio is identical to the last one, except it explains where Damien went, and adds a Knife Fighting Skill to it. Let me know if I need to change anything.
Name: Damien “Spider” Hunter
Age: 18
Nationality: American
Ethnicity: American
Height: 6”1
Weight: 145 lbs
Appearance: Damien is a tall, well built, if a tad skinny, teenager. His body still holds the spring of youth, and his body is surprisingly tone. His weight, however small it is, is essentially pure muscle. That muscle is corded and tough, and well defined from years of lifting weights.
Damien is, incidentally, studded with “personalizations” as he would call them. He has two scars from knives, one long one that stretches along a portion of his upper left arm and another smaller stab wound in his back, four inches above his right kidney. The remnants of a single 9 millimeter gunshot decorate his right shoulder. A four inch burn patch speaks from his left hip. His face bears several smaller scars from numerous punches, kicks, clubbings and other assorted forms of blunt trauma. They are not very noticeable.
Beyond this Damien has two tattoos. One of the distinctive Live Shades from the Comic Book Series Transmetropolitan on his upper right arm. He also has a small stylized Black Widow tattooed on the back of his neck. It is covered by his hair.
Cosmetic: Damien has a fondness for long sleeve, button up shirts, and long pants, usually jeans. He tends to wear Combat Boots. He has several sets of shirts and pants, and 3 different pairs of combat boots. Most of his clothes are stolen, with the exception of the boots, which he bought at various thrift stores in his old stomping grounds. He tends toward dark colors, particularly black or gray. The majority of his shirts are pinstriped. He has a few jackets, and normally wears a belt. He has a pair of glasses.
Eye Color: Damien’s eyes are a deep emerald. He is near sighted and wears a pair of unassuming glasses.
Hair: Damien has dirty blonde hair that reaches just past his shoulders. It’s tough to do much with it, as it is quite fine.
Habits: Damien has a number of strange habits. He used to smoke, but has since quit. He can be a bit of a loud mouth at times, and is shockingly obscene. He has been drinking since he was 13, and is fairly inured to the effects of Alcohol, but that doesn’t mean all that much. He also has the strange tendency to throw out random quotes from movies, books, etc. when the situation strikes him.
Personality: Damien is a very openly bitter and angry person, but not black and depressed. He’s more “World’s goin’ to hell…I’m gonna yell it from the rooftops and enjoy the fuck out of the ride!” than “I hate my life.” He is also very, very smart. He has some psychological anger issues due to his past, but these have died down to a degree since his martial arts training and since he found an appreciated outlet through his writing. Damien was to put it simply, a ball of psychosis until three or so years ago. Some of his old habits resurface from time to time.
Hobbies: Damien has a bevy of relatively odd hobbies, foremost among them writing. Damien writes journalistically, specifically columns. He began writing these when he was 13-14, and has grown quite adept at it. (See history for more.) He is an avid reader, and very quick at reading. Spider also avidly collects Comic Books. He has a massive collection, and is constantly on the lookout for more. He enjoys all kinds of music, and has been known to freestyle on occasion. He is also a passable DJ. Although relatively new to the internet, Damien is an excellent gamer, and a notorious pirate. He also loves Martial Arts and Weight Lifting.
Extracurricular: None at the moment, although Damien will likely end up writing for the Hircine Paper.
History: Damien Hunter was born a little over 18 years ago to loving parents in Alta Bates hospital in Oakland. Damien’s early life was fairly normal. His parents weren’t well off, but were hard-working and young Damien rarely wanted for anything. Oakland, although a relatively brutal town, didn’t particularly rub off on Damien.
Of course something like that couldn’t last forever in this world.
Damien’s parents were killed in a car accident shortly after his Eleventh birthday. The Hunter’s had no living relatives, putting Damien under the care of the state. He was issued a foster home like so many others.
Damien showed up at the small three room apartment that was to be his new home, only to discover it empty. Normally something like this would be rectified.
Unfortunately it was an election year. Parties were switching positions and Damien’s file vanished in the shuffle, leaving the 11 year old in the lurch. Checks still came in the mail, which Damien used for food and other essentials. The apartment was a loft above a Comic Shop, where the boy spent most of his time. The man who owned the shop did what he could to help the boy, but that wasn’t more than giving him money for helping him out and letting him read in piece.
He attended school irregularly, and was quickly swept up into the underculture of Oakland. Drinking, Violence, and brutality of all sorts were all facts of life to him very, very quickly. He was simultaneously exposed to the best and worst of humanity, which left a big impact on the young Hunter. Damien did stay away from hard drugs, however. A man died in the alley next to the comic book shop of a Heroine overdose when he was 12, and that thoroughly convinced him that anything beyond alcohol and tobacco were strictly not to be touched.
Everything else, however, he did do. He was booked under a multitude of false names for various misdemeanours, was an accomplished thief, and had a file at the local free clinic 8 pages long from all the fights he’d been in.
He’d been stabbed, seen people shot, and watched homes burn when he was 13. By the time he was 15 it didn’t even phase him.
One thing he always had solace in, however, was comics. He read them voraciously. At 13 he read Transmetropolitan, and struck by its protagonist, Spider Jerusalem, began writing himself.
All of this continued until he was 16. Then the Comic Book shop he lived above was hit with a Molotov Cocktail. It went up like a tinder pile.
So Damien got himself a bat.
3 days and 19 hospitalized Nortenos later Damien Hunter was booked on several counts of aggravated assault.
Imagine the Courts embarrassment when they discovered that they had accidentally let this boy to rot for half a decade. They quietly dismissed the case, built a record for the boy, and passed him off to an actual foster family. The man, Michael Thompson was a friend of the Judge, and an Opinions Writer for the Oakland Tribune.
Damien chafed under actual parentage. He was distant, and often truant. Thompson was about to see what he could do to get rid of him when he discovered the boy’s writing. It was written in excellent journalistic style and was very powerful. They quickly bonded over it, and after some editing, Damien’s work was published as a column in the Tribune. Finally presented with a forum of import that he could use to voice the inherent problems of his universe, he quickly calmed. He regularly attended school, and even did quite well for himself.
He also began formal Martial Arts training. A shrink friend of Thompson’s suggested it as a good outlet for Damien’s still present anger issues. It worked very well, the already blooded teenager adapting well to the more regimented Tae Kwon Do. This gave him speed and kicking technique, two things he lacked in his streetfighting, making him an even more dangerous opponent.
That did not keep him, however, from going out to his old stomping grounds and getting up to any amount of mischief. This, of course, kept his columns fueled, and Thompson proud.
When he was 17 Damien published a number of columns on Police Brutality. This, of course, angered the Oakland Police Department. Just after his 18th Birthday, Damien made the mistake of pissing off a bunch of off-duty cops.
He spent 3 weeks in the hospital.
He grinned like a maniac the whole time.
The PD, already reeling from the Column series, now had a major PR crisis on its hands, and the Court decided, that since he was 18, he should get reparations.
And get the fuck out of Oak Town.
Damien bought himself a computer and an apartment in San Francisco. After furnishing the place, he was pretty much broke, which meant he would have to write again.
The court had transferred him to Hircine for the rest of his Senior year. He and Thompson parted on excellent terms, and although he hasn’t written anything in some time, he plans on getting back in the game as soon as possible. Hircine has quite a reputation.
Should make for some interesting stories for the Spider.
UPDATE:
Spider was only at Hircine for several weeks before an opportunity of shocking magnitude presented itself to him.
The Tribune was sending a team overseas, and wanted Damien along. They were sent to cover some serious upheaval in Eastern Europe. Tim wrote some of his best work while out of the U.S. The transition from the back alleys of Oakland and San Francisco to Zagreb and Tbilisi was a bit rough at first, but soon Damien had a multitude of contacts, friends, drinking buddies, sources, contacts, and of course, enemies. He learned a variety of new tricks while overseas, ranging from legerdemain to Knife Fighting.
After a series of hijinks involving a trio of Russian FSB agents that gave rise to three excellent columns, the Tribune was kindly asked by the Government to bring its team home. Spider, after a raucous evening of drinking, fighting, and metal, acquiesced, and boarded his flight home.
After being gone for several months, Damien is finally ready to get through his Senior Year, and move on with his life.
But of course he has to get through Hircine first...
Fighting Style: Damien was fighting on the streets of Oakland at 13. He was an adept Street Fighter at 15, and now that he has been training in Mixed Martial Arts, he is very dangerous.
His style is a mix of standoff kicks making use of his long legs, and fast, brutal close range hand techniques that make use of his surprising strength. He is also knowledgeable of locks, grabs and throws, and will use them if the opportunity presents itself.
He also knows his way around a knife, Tonfa, Beer Bottles, Sai, and Staff.
Update:
During his months in Eastern Europe, Damien learned the Spetsnaz Knife Fighting style from a pair of Ex Spetsnaz. He has become very deadly with a knife.
Strengths: Damien is surprisingly strong for his size, (He can bench 175, and Squat 290) and is very quick, able to dodge easily. His legs also have good reach. He is also surprisingly resilient, and can operate under extreme duress, although this is primarily due to his life of constant conflict.
Weaknesses: His weaknesses are his technique and his blocks. He has little skill at blocking, only having recently learned to. He would much rather dodge than block, and this weakness can be easily exploited. His lack of technique leaves better trained fighters the ability to simply out-skill him. And although knowledgeable in grappling, a proper grappler will be able to run the table on him quickly if they can ground him.
Possessions:
Macbook Pro, with a Dual Boot, 1 Windows, 1 Mac.
IPod Classic, 80 Gig
Apartment, well furnished, 1 Bed 1 Bath. Fairly Well furnished.
Generic Cell Phone.
Massive Comic Book Collection.
Zippo Lighter (Engraved. Used to belong to a Soviet General. A gift to him from a friend he made in Europe)
Leatherman Wave Knife
Notepad, and Pen (Constantly with him)
An excerpt of one of Damien’s Columns, this one on the subject of Corporal Punishment.
The older man’s fist slams into the side of my head. Stars explode across my vision and blood streams from my mouth. I drop to the ground and stay there, a line of blood running from my nose across my lips.
He grunts in satisfaction as I lay unmoving, more due to my own intelligence than any actual damage done.
There is no asphalt kissing my face. Concrete is several flights of stairs away.
Linoleum is worse, in my opinion. It’s just as hard without any of the personality of pavement.
The School I’m bleeding upon, however, has plenty of personality.
That’s right.
I’m in school right now.
And subject to the wrath of one Zacharias Richardson, Instructor of Mathematics at Oakland High.
I’m better off than the wannabe Norteno lying opposite me. He’s groaning through a shattered jaw, and groaning over a broken arm and leg. His smashed nose makes my spray of blood look like a trickle.
This is what a simple schoolyard scrap has devolved into. No more can two boys vent their frustration. The smart ones lie there and take it, and those who try to fight end up hospitalized.
I can’t imagine how the poor bastard’s parents are going to pay to have his jaw wired shut. For the casts for his limbs. For the surgery for his nose. For the teeth scattered across the ground. For the dignity that is being lost as surely as the blood seeping across the stained linoleum floor.
Oh. Wait. Now there’s a boot in my chest. My breath blasted out of me in an explosive gasp.
As I shut my eyes and grit my teeth I wonder if that steel-toe clad prick is smiling.
Are we an example?
There was an example yesterday.
And the day before that.
And the day before that.
There have been examples every day of the week every week this year.
This Bio is identical to the last one, except it explains where Damien went, and adds a Knife Fighting Skill to it. Let me know if I need to change anything.
Name: Damien “Spider” Hunter
Age: 18
Nationality: American
Ethnicity: American
Height: 6”1
Weight: 145 lbs
Appearance: Damien is a tall, well built, if a tad skinny, teenager. His body still holds the spring of youth, and his body is surprisingly tone. His weight, however small it is, is essentially pure muscle. That muscle is corded and tough, and well defined from years of lifting weights.
Damien is, incidentally, studded with “personalizations” as he would call them. He has two scars from knives, one long one that stretches along a portion of his upper left arm and another smaller stab wound in his back, four inches above his right kidney. The remnants of a single 9 millimeter gunshot decorate his right shoulder. A four inch burn patch speaks from his left hip. His face bears several smaller scars from numerous punches, kicks, clubbings and other assorted forms of blunt trauma. They are not very noticeable.
Beyond this Damien has two tattoos. One of the distinctive Live Shades from the Comic Book Series Transmetropolitan on his upper right arm. He also has a small stylized Black Widow tattooed on the back of his neck. It is covered by his hair.
Cosmetic: Damien has a fondness for long sleeve, button up shirts, and long pants, usually jeans. He tends to wear Combat Boots. He has several sets of shirts and pants, and 3 different pairs of combat boots. Most of his clothes are stolen, with the exception of the boots, which he bought at various thrift stores in his old stomping grounds. He tends toward dark colors, particularly black or gray. The majority of his shirts are pinstriped. He has a few jackets, and normally wears a belt. He has a pair of glasses.
Eye Color: Damien’s eyes are a deep emerald. He is near sighted and wears a pair of unassuming glasses.
Hair: Damien has dirty blonde hair that reaches just past his shoulders. It’s tough to do much with it, as it is quite fine.
Habits: Damien has a number of strange habits. He used to smoke, but has since quit. He can be a bit of a loud mouth at times, and is shockingly obscene. He has been drinking since he was 13, and is fairly inured to the effects of Alcohol, but that doesn’t mean all that much. He also has the strange tendency to throw out random quotes from movies, books, etc. when the situation strikes him.
Personality: Damien is a very openly bitter and angry person, but not black and depressed. He’s more “World’s goin’ to hell…I’m gonna yell it from the rooftops and enjoy the fuck out of the ride!” than “I hate my life.” He is also very, very smart. He has some psychological anger issues due to his past, but these have died down to a degree since his martial arts training and since he found an appreciated outlet through his writing. Damien was to put it simply, a ball of psychosis until three or so years ago. Some of his old habits resurface from time to time.
Hobbies: Damien has a bevy of relatively odd hobbies, foremost among them writing. Damien writes journalistically, specifically columns. He began writing these when he was 13-14, and has grown quite adept at it. (See history for more.) He is an avid reader, and very quick at reading. Spider also avidly collects Comic Books. He has a massive collection, and is constantly on the lookout for more. He enjoys all kinds of music, and has been known to freestyle on occasion. He is also a passable DJ. Although relatively new to the internet, Damien is an excellent gamer, and a notorious pirate. He also loves Martial Arts and Weight Lifting.
Extracurricular: None at the moment, although Damien will likely end up writing for the Hircine Paper.
History: Damien Hunter was born a little over 18 years ago to loving parents in Alta Bates hospital in Oakland. Damien’s early life was fairly normal. His parents weren’t well off, but were hard-working and young Damien rarely wanted for anything. Oakland, although a relatively brutal town, didn’t particularly rub off on Damien.
Of course something like that couldn’t last forever in this world.
Damien’s parents were killed in a car accident shortly after his Eleventh birthday. The Hunter’s had no living relatives, putting Damien under the care of the state. He was issued a foster home like so many others.
Damien showed up at the small three room apartment that was to be his new home, only to discover it empty. Normally something like this would be rectified.
Unfortunately it was an election year. Parties were switching positions and Damien’s file vanished in the shuffle, leaving the 11 year old in the lurch. Checks still came in the mail, which Damien used for food and other essentials. The apartment was a loft above a Comic Shop, where the boy spent most of his time. The man who owned the shop did what he could to help the boy, but that wasn’t more than giving him money for helping him out and letting him read in piece.
He attended school irregularly, and was quickly swept up into the underculture of Oakland. Drinking, Violence, and brutality of all sorts were all facts of life to him very, very quickly. He was simultaneously exposed to the best and worst of humanity, which left a big impact on the young Hunter. Damien did stay away from hard drugs, however. A man died in the alley next to the comic book shop of a Heroine overdose when he was 12, and that thoroughly convinced him that anything beyond alcohol and tobacco were strictly not to be touched.
Everything else, however, he did do. He was booked under a multitude of false names for various misdemeanours, was an accomplished thief, and had a file at the local free clinic 8 pages long from all the fights he’d been in.
He’d been stabbed, seen people shot, and watched homes burn when he was 13. By the time he was 15 it didn’t even phase him.
One thing he always had solace in, however, was comics. He read them voraciously. At 13 he read Transmetropolitan, and struck by its protagonist, Spider Jerusalem, began writing himself.
All of this continued until he was 16. Then the Comic Book shop he lived above was hit with a Molotov Cocktail. It went up like a tinder pile.
So Damien got himself a bat.
3 days and 19 hospitalized Nortenos later Damien Hunter was booked on several counts of aggravated assault.
Imagine the Courts embarrassment when they discovered that they had accidentally let this boy to rot for half a decade. They quietly dismissed the case, built a record for the boy, and passed him off to an actual foster family. The man, Michael Thompson was a friend of the Judge, and an Opinions Writer for the Oakland Tribune.
Damien chafed under actual parentage. He was distant, and often truant. Thompson was about to see what he could do to get rid of him when he discovered the boy’s writing. It was written in excellent journalistic style and was very powerful. They quickly bonded over it, and after some editing, Damien’s work was published as a column in the Tribune. Finally presented with a forum of import that he could use to voice the inherent problems of his universe, he quickly calmed. He regularly attended school, and even did quite well for himself.
He also began formal Martial Arts training. A shrink friend of Thompson’s suggested it as a good outlet for Damien’s still present anger issues. It worked very well, the already blooded teenager adapting well to the more regimented Tae Kwon Do. This gave him speed and kicking technique, two things he lacked in his streetfighting, making him an even more dangerous opponent.
That did not keep him, however, from going out to his old stomping grounds and getting up to any amount of mischief. This, of course, kept his columns fueled, and Thompson proud.
When he was 17 Damien published a number of columns on Police Brutality. This, of course, angered the Oakland Police Department. Just after his 18th Birthday, Damien made the mistake of pissing off a bunch of off-duty cops.
He spent 3 weeks in the hospital.
He grinned like a maniac the whole time.
The PD, already reeling from the Column series, now had a major PR crisis on its hands, and the Court decided, that since he was 18, he should get reparations.
And get the fuck out of Oak Town.
Damien bought himself a computer and an apartment in San Francisco. After furnishing the place, he was pretty much broke, which meant he would have to write again.
The court had transferred him to Hircine for the rest of his Senior year. He and Thompson parted on excellent terms, and although he hasn’t written anything in some time, he plans on getting back in the game as soon as possible. Hircine has quite a reputation.
Should make for some interesting stories for the Spider.
UPDATE:
Spider was only at Hircine for several weeks before an opportunity of shocking magnitude presented itself to him.
The Tribune was sending a team overseas, and wanted Damien along. They were sent to cover some serious upheaval in Eastern Europe. Tim wrote some of his best work while out of the U.S. The transition from the back alleys of Oakland and San Francisco to Zagreb and Tbilisi was a bit rough at first, but soon Damien had a multitude of contacts, friends, drinking buddies, sources, contacts, and of course, enemies. He learned a variety of new tricks while overseas, ranging from legerdemain to Knife Fighting.
After a series of hijinks involving a trio of Russian FSB agents that gave rise to three excellent columns, the Tribune was kindly asked by the Government to bring its team home. Spider, after a raucous evening of drinking, fighting, and metal, acquiesced, and boarded his flight home.
After being gone for several months, Damien is finally ready to get through his Senior Year, and move on with his life.
But of course he has to get through Hircine first...
Fighting Style: Damien was fighting on the streets of Oakland at 13. He was an adept Street Fighter at 15, and now that he has been training in Mixed Martial Arts, he is very dangerous.
His style is a mix of standoff kicks making use of his long legs, and fast, brutal close range hand techniques that make use of his surprising strength. He is also knowledgeable of locks, grabs and throws, and will use them if the opportunity presents itself.
He also knows his way around a knife, Tonfa, Beer Bottles, Sai, and Staff.
Update:
During his months in Eastern Europe, Damien learned the Spetsnaz Knife Fighting style from a pair of Ex Spetsnaz. He has become very deadly with a knife.
Strengths: Damien is surprisingly strong for his size, (He can bench 175, and Squat 290) and is very quick, able to dodge easily. His legs also have good reach. He is also surprisingly resilient, and can operate under extreme duress, although this is primarily due to his life of constant conflict.
Weaknesses: His weaknesses are his technique and his blocks. He has little skill at blocking, only having recently learned to. He would much rather dodge than block, and this weakness can be easily exploited. His lack of technique leaves better trained fighters the ability to simply out-skill him. And although knowledgeable in grappling, a proper grappler will be able to run the table on him quickly if they can ground him.
Possessions:
Macbook Pro, with a Dual Boot, 1 Windows, 1 Mac.
IPod Classic, 80 Gig
Apartment, well furnished, 1 Bed 1 Bath. Fairly Well furnished.
Generic Cell Phone.
Massive Comic Book Collection.
Zippo Lighter (Engraved. Used to belong to a Soviet General. A gift to him from a friend he made in Europe)
Leatherman Wave Knife
Notepad, and Pen (Constantly with him)
An excerpt of one of Damien’s Columns, this one on the subject of Corporal Punishment.
The older man’s fist slams into the side of my head. Stars explode across my vision and blood streams from my mouth. I drop to the ground and stay there, a line of blood running from my nose across my lips.
He grunts in satisfaction as I lay unmoving, more due to my own intelligence than any actual damage done.
There is no asphalt kissing my face. Concrete is several flights of stairs away.
Linoleum is worse, in my opinion. It’s just as hard without any of the personality of pavement.
The School I’m bleeding upon, however, has plenty of personality.
That’s right.
I’m in school right now.
And subject to the wrath of one Zacharias Richardson, Instructor of Mathematics at Oakland High.
I’m better off than the wannabe Norteno lying opposite me. He’s groaning through a shattered jaw, and groaning over a broken arm and leg. His smashed nose makes my spray of blood look like a trickle.
This is what a simple schoolyard scrap has devolved into. No more can two boys vent their frustration. The smart ones lie there and take it, and those who try to fight end up hospitalized.
I can’t imagine how the poor bastard’s parents are going to pay to have his jaw wired shut. For the casts for his limbs. For the surgery for his nose. For the teeth scattered across the ground. For the dignity that is being lost as surely as the blood seeping across the stained linoleum floor.
Oh. Wait. Now there’s a boot in my chest. My breath blasted out of me in an explosive gasp.
As I shut my eyes and grit my teeth I wonder if that steel-toe clad prick is smiling.
Are we an example?
There was an example yesterday.
And the day before that.
And the day before that.
There have been examples every day of the week every week this year.
