Owen Filby

[Owen]

NAME: Owen Filby.
NICKNAMES: Owen is far from the easiest name to abbreviate, and Filby is no better, so he doesn’t really have any, not that he knows of anyway. A few of the secretaries at the company where he works call him ‘sir’, but that’s merely out of respect.
RACE: Werewolf; bitten.
OCCUPATION: Rogue; Vice President of the Jameson and Rhodes Agency, an advertising company.
GENDER: Male.
SKIN COLOUR: Caucasian with a natural, light tan.
NATIONALITY: American.
AGE: 41 years old, though he is often mistaken for someone in this thirties, physically.
CLOTHING: Owen is very casual when he isn’t working, much preferring to be comfortable than conform to any kind of expectations, especially given the restrictions of ‘fashion’ and its demands, not to mention the expenses. He has the money for the top-line names, but would much rather wear a plain, cheap t-shirt that he can lounge around his apartment in than spend a ridiculous amount on something from Calvin Klein or any of the other top brands. He isn’t overly fussy, and many would find it hard to believe that he has such a well-paid job when they see him in casual gear, which usually comprises of jeans and some kind of t-shirt, sometimes with an unfastened button-down over the top, or a thin sweater or long-sleeved t-shirt. He’ll sometimes wear shirts with designs on, but prefers the plain style, for no particular reason, and when it comes to colours, he prefers natural shades, beiges and tans, or darker tones, in blues, greens and reds, as well as the neutral black and white. He isn’t a fan of bright colours, or grey. When he’s working, he wears a suit without fail, usually with a tie; if the weather requires it, he’ll wear a matching jacket, and his suits are all expensive, and clearly so. He has a reputation and an image to maintain, and does his best to fit the role. He has a variety of ties, some with designs and others just plain, block colours, and mixes and matches; he’s been told he actually has a good eye for clothing, and what to wear with what, but doesn’t actually put much thought into it beyond a few minutes in front of the mirror. When working, he wears polished black shoes, but outside of office hours, he’s usually found in a pair of comfortable sneakers or scuffed boots that would be more at home on a handyman than a Vice President of a successful company. If and when it’s needed, he has a work jacket that is black and reaches his knees, and for casual use, he has a few jackets, one or two denim and one cloth, in black, that reaches his waist and bears a hood.
HEIGHT: 6’1.
WEIGHT: 185lbs.
TATTOOS: N/A.
PIERCINGS: N/A.
JEWELLERY: The only piece of jewellery that Owen owns other than his wristwatch is his old, white gold wedding band, which he no longer wears but keeps safely tucked in a ring box in the drawer of his nightstand.

BODY MODIFICATIONS: Owen has been lucky in life, and hasn’t been in any scrapes in the past that would leave marks, but of course, that has all changed now; he will now permanently bear telltale scars down his right calf and the left side of his chest, as well as his left bicep, the evidence of a vicious ‘animal’ attack.

WOLF FORM.

BUILD: The wolf that Owen will soon become is muscular, very much built for the takedown and kill, but also well-suited to pursuit and combat, able to twist and turn quickly and agilely, defying the mass and bulk with preternatural grace and balance. When down on all fours, it would be easy to mistake him, at a quick glance, for a larger-than-usual wolf, though his proportions are more like a timber wolf than the common variety. Up close, it would be much more difficult to mistake him for anything other than a large, vicious, supernatural predator. His chest is broad, like his back, storing a good deal of power, and though he tapers around the waist, he doesn’t slim much towards the hind quarters which lead down to strong hind legs, which possess an extra joint for bipedal travel, that are banded with undeniable muscle, ending in large paws. His forelegs are much more like arms in their joints, and his front paws are much more like hands than anything wolfen, even possessing a thumb-like digit rather than a dewclaw, but he can move as a quadruped just as comfortably and ably as he can on two legs. All his claws are large and black, strong and perfect for tearing flesh from bone. His head is stocky for a wolf’s, with a short and compact muzzle filled with sharp teeth and most of all, imposing canines. With a long, flat skull that ends in overly-long, slender ears, a face-to-face encounter would provoke the ‘werewolf’ suspicion even in the most sceptical minds. Finally, he has a full, thick and sweeping tail.
HEIGHT: Biped; 8’9. Quadruped; 5’3.
WEIGHT: 321lbs.
HAIR: A dark, steely grey that can look almost metallic blue under some lights, Owen’s pelt is insulating and full, covering him from head to toe, providing protection for combat and from the elements. His hair is thickest around his neck, to protect his jugular, and shortest around his muzzle, but it is at its most generous along the length of his tail.
EYES: Cobalt blue, lightening towards the centre, making him appear almost as if he has white pupils.
DEFINING MARKS: The long ears, front paws like hands, and thick tail.

PACK.
PACK: N/A.
POSITION: N/A.
TERRITORY: N/A.

HAIR.[/i]
LENGTH: Owen can be a little fickle with his hair, so at times it can be cut short and spiked, giving him a more youthful look, but it has been a few years since he has gone to such extremes. In recent months, it is consistently several inches long, tickling his temples and brow and even his ears at the sides, as well as his neck at the back, and there are a few, natural, different lengths throughout the body.
STYLE: Though he combs his hair every morning, it is never overly neat, which is preferable to him. Owen never likes to look too tidy and polished, even with his job, and so there is always a degree of ‘scruffiness’ to his hair, though never anything too unruly.
COLOUR: Brown, with several natural shades throughout.

FACIAL HAIR.[/i]
LENGTH: Owen usually sports stubble, which is, at most, a centimetre or two, which is when he shaves it again for easy maintenance.
STYLE: Stubble, leading down from his sideburns, over his bottom jaw and chin, and over his top lip.

EYES.[/i]
COLOUR: Hazel.
ODDITIES: Though he doesn’t know it yet and has yet to experience the phenomenon, Owen’s eyes, like all werewolves’, will flash or wane to the animal hue when he is experiencing powerful emotions, reacting to pain or shock or anger for example, or if he feels threatened; he will also be able to will the change, if he is feeling mischievous or attempting to intimidate.

PERSONALITY: Owen is a general, all-round nice guy, the sort of man who makes a good neighbour and is usually willing to do a friend a favour, but he isn’t all rainbows and sunshine, and would never pretend to be as much; he doesn’t lie about who he is, and never likes to deceive others if he doesn’t have to. He holds a lot of faith in the ‘honesty is the best policy’ belief, and does his best to live by it. To anyone who knows him, Owen is compassionate and considerate, something of an old-fashioned gentleman who will hold the door open for a woman and even pull their chair out for them at dinner, and he always greets new people with a respectful handshake if the opportunity presents itself. It is this behaviour that landed him a job in advertising in the first place, but it is his undeniable determination and even stubbornness that led him all the way to the position of Vice President; when he has his heart or mind set on something, he will fight to reach that goal, and nothing much can get in his way and actually stop him in his tracks. Quit, quite simply, is not in his vocabulary.

Raised Catholic, Owen lost his faith when he lost his family. Admittedly, he didn’t try very hard to hold onto it, and it had been wavering for a long time, but after the death of his child, and his subsequent divorce, he simply lost the will to fight for his faith, one of the only things he has ever truly given up on in his life. Owen still has feelings for his ex-wife, and still speaks to her on occasion, though only ever about matters concerning the solicitors or who got what during the divorce and whether or not either of them owe the other anything. More than anything, he misses the connection he had with her while they were married, and though he understands now that they weren’t the right fit, the death of their child being the final, devastating blow to an already wounded relationship, he does long to meet someone else, and try to build the same sort of thing from the ground up. Owen quite simply doesn’t do well on his own, and has never been much of a loner; he had plenty of friends all during his childhood, education and college, and his job allows him plenty of interaction, business and social situations alike, and he quite honestly hates sitting by himself, which was why he ended up keeping the dog in the divorce; his wife knew what he was like, and let him have the animal, which he has always appreciated more than he let on. Owen has also never forgiven himself for failing to save his child, even though he knows, deep down, that there was nothing even the doctors could do; it was inevitable, what happened, and yet, the guilt still eats away at him every day, and yet, his daughter’s one and only photograph still takes pride of place in his living room.

Loyal, quick to laugh and understanding, Owen takes pride in the fact that he is well-liked in the workplace, his secretary always confiding in him about her personal life, something he has never discouraged and actually appreciates; being so approachable. He has plenty of friends and he is successful in what he does, and he really is proud of that. He isn’t arrogant, never has been, but acknowledges to himself that he has done well, and wants to continue being successful. Money means little to him; his bank balance has never been a major worry for him, no matter how high or low it might be at any given time, and quite frankly, Owen is at the point in his life where he doesn’t need to worry about it. He is sensible, and as such, has never been frivolous or reckless with his finances, and it shows.

Of course, Owen’s life is about to change in one of the most drastic ways, and the new side of him is bound to affect his personality. He doesn’t know it yet, of course, and won’t be able to accept it until it’s literally staring him in the face, for lack of a better term, having never believed in the supernatural to such an extreme, but he has a good head on his shoulders, and if he’s lucky, that will keep him from losing a big part of who he is.

WEAKNESSES: Unaware of it though he is, for now, Owen has the trademark ‘allergy’ to silver that all werewolves share. It will burn and scar his flesh, nauseate and weaken him in proximity, and infect his blood if not removed from a wound in a timely fashion, leading to silver poisoning; at its worst, it will infect his lungs, heart or brain, and ultimately kill him. For now, he still believes he is mortal, and as such, likely to die from any number of wounds, which of course is no longer true.

Owen’s inability to let go of his faults, including his divorce and the death of his young daughter, is a mental weakness that he is aware of and yet has made no attempt to ‘fix’. He doesn’t speak to psychiatrists or counsellors, and actually hates them, thinking them pointless and not only that, ridiculously expensive to the point of extortionate. He becomes very loyal to people very quickly, and always stands up for those he sees as friends, even if he is outnumbered or doesn’t genuinely have a hope of winning a fight, verbal or physical. Leading on from that, he has had no physical training whatsoever, and has only ever had a few fights in his entire life, all of which have seen him relying on very simple punches or dodges, and as such, wouldn’t really be able to defend himself against a more knowledgeable opponent, let alone a group of such people.

Physically, Owen can suffer from stress-induced pains more than he ever admits to, in his chest, through his ribs, or in the form of headaches and migraines. He usually just downs a painkiller and keeps himself hydrated, and never really pays the aches and pains anything more than a brief pause and thought about the irritation and disruption they cause to his concentration and therefore, progress at work.

Finally, the fact that Owen has literally just become a werewolf and will have an extremely difficult time believing and coming to terms with such a reality is a weakness in and of itself; the new ‘presence’ in his mind will quite likely test his limits, not to mention the physical side and how that will affect him. The full moon will also completely control when he changes without his willing it; though he won’t be able to control his transformations at all until he puts some thought into restraining the wolf side, the peak of the lunar cycle, every month for three nights, for the next century or so, will pull the animal to the surface and essentially turn him into a raging predator who shows no signs of humanity or mercy.

ABILITIES: Just as he is unaware of his weaknesses from his new condition, Owen has no idea what lays ahead in terms of abilities. Just like all other lycanthropes, he has the array of perks that they all sport: heightened senses, agility, balance, grace, endurance, speed, strength, awareness, pain threshold and healing factor; the ability to leap to, from and across large distances without physical fault, so long as he is braced and doesn’t push himself; and of course, the ability to transform to a wolf and back again, though that will take some practise.

Owen is a personable, confident and even charming man, which has led to his success at the Agency; he can calm nerves and cool a heated situation without having to resort to anything physical, and can convince people to change their minds about something just by sitting, having coffee, and talking them through something; he is very easy to trust, for most people, and it is a natural talent that comes in very useful in his line of work.

Able to speak and even write Latin, Owen can also read sheet music even though he never learned how to play an instrument, and is very capable of cooking a variety of meals from scratch. He is very handy with a computer too, and can find his way around a laptop’s system well enough to work out a problem if there is one, and from there, judge whether or not he can repair it himself with simple techniques he has learned simply from working with the machines for a long time.

WEAPONS: Owen is a pacifist, and as such, has never seen the point in buying a gun or a knife, let alone carrying one around with him.

PRIZED POSSESSIONS: Even though he doesn’t wear it, Owen prizes his old wedding ring, and on top of that, the photograph of his late daughter which always sits on his mantelpiece in his apartment; the baby in the picture is small and clearly connected to vents and encased in an incubator, but the picture is never hidden away. He doesn’t like to talk about her beyond explaining who the picture is of, but he can’t bring himself to put the picture away, as if that will make her disappear forever. Owen’s black German Shepherd, Zodiac (Zo for short) is another valuable possession, given her introduction into his life, and what she was intended to be. Owen’s car, a black BMW convertible, is also prized, but only because it is a practical asset.

HOME(S): Owen owns a comfortable apartment in the suburbs complex The Colony.


Continued below…

[Owen]

HISTORY: Born in Philadelphia to happily married couple Jonathan and Katherine Filby, a designer and a housewife, Owen had a very simple but comfortable childhood. As an only child, there was no competition for attention, but he was a content child who likely would have gotten along well with a sibling or two; as it was, he had a lot of friends from a very early age, always getting along with others easily and his parents were always proud of his ability to socialise and even diffuse tense situations on the playground, even at the tender age of six when he stopped two classmates from having a scuffle over something trivial. From there, it was obvious he would always do well in groups and social situations, but not only that, he always showed true potential when it came to public speaking and taking leadership roles. As his education progressed, it became clear that he was destined for more than ‘the simple life’, and his parents were all too eager to encourage him.

By the time college loomed on the horizon, Owen already had an idea of what it was he wanted to do with his life, having something of a talent for campaigns and coming up with slogans and the like, and so he went on to study anything that would help land him a start in the world of advertising. College was a lot of work, and yet he managed to juggle the various commitments with ease that made several of his friends envy him, and on top of his own studies, he helped those same friends and managed to maintain a fruitful social life while going home every weekend to see his parents before returning to campus in time for a new week of work and classes.

Owen’s break came not long after he graduated from college, where he started as little more than a ‘coffee guy’ for a small-time company in his native Philadelphia, but it didn’t take him long to show his potential, and his boss noticed that youthful promise, and soon enough, Owen was proving himself to be a valuable asset to the company, working his way up and into the ranks quickly and comfortably. His ideas were well-met and integrated into campaigns and advertising strategies, and when it was announced that the company would be shutting up shop and moving to bigger offices in Los Angeles, it was a tough decision for Owen, but only until his parents practically ordered him to leave, to follow his ambitions and chase the job he wanted and was actually good at. So, he packed up his belongings, and followed the company to California, leaving his family behind and launching himself into a world of cut-throat competition and new territory.

But it was in Los Angeles that Owen met the woman with whom he would spend almost a decade of his life, give or take a year. Suzanne Matthews was a passionate woman with a flair for fashion, and when the two were introduced by a mutual friend, they quickly hit it off, and from there, began dating, their busy schedules allowing for sporadic get-togethers and spontaneous meetings and visits. Within a year, the two were moving in together, and they became more or less inseparable when they weren’t working. Owen’s career was taking off, and he was in the running for management by the time he was thirty-two.

Owen’s relationship with Suzanne reached a milestone during one slightly clichéd evening that he had gone to great lengths to plan and execute. In the middle of a busy, expensive French restaurant, just before they tucked into dessert, Owen got down on one knee and proposed, and Suzanne, fighting through her surprise, said yes. The planning for the wedding took up most of the free time the couple had, but Owen never complained, and when the big day finally arrived, he was relieved when everything went right; he’d been worrying about it for months, after all, and Suzanne had lost weight due to her own stress and concerns; would the caterer get the menus right, what if one of her bridesmaids bailed on her, what if it rained? But the wedding went off without a hitch, and it was a day the two would come to remember with fondness, as married couples were wont to do.

It was three months after the wedding that Owen was awoken in the middle of the night by a call from his mother. His father had suffered from a heart attack. Jonathan Filby had died suddenly, without warning, and Owen and his wife flew back to Philadelphia for the funeral, remaining until his mother literally told them to go back to L.A. before their work suffered, insisting to her son that she was fine, that he needn’t worry. Begrudgingly, Owen did as he was told, and life continued in the same vein for some time, weeks turning into months, months into years.

Owen was thirty-seven when Suzanne’s health started to concern him. She seemed to eat less, losing weight much as she had before the wedding, and any attempts to talk to her about it were met with denial and even slight hostility, his wife insisting she was fine, that he had nothing to worry about, and that she knew how to take care of herself. It was the first time since their wedding that any real tension had set in, and Owen was unsettled by it, wanting to confront Suzanne when she dropped two dress sizes in the space of six months. Over the next year, her weight fluctuated, and even despite living in California, she seemed paler than usual. Owen finally pushed her to the doctor, refusing to remain at home for the appointment, but it turned out that she was simply underweight, which he already knew, even if the reason was a mystery. She refused to give him an explanation, which put extra strain on an already uncomfortable situation.

The announcement not long after that she was pregnant only worried Owen further. True, he was happy when she gave him the news, as any father-to-be usually is, but Suzanne’s health scared him. Surely she wasn’t in the right condition to have a child, and his concerns were the beginning of a rocky road, the frequently broached subject cause for many an argument that, while not truly fierce often mounted to raised voices and heated, regretted statements. The two felt pressured by one another, and as Suzanne’s pregnancy went on as scheduled, Owen buried himself in his work, his inability to handle the stress of married life and impending parenthood adding up to leave him with near-crippling migraines and chest pains that would often leave him slouched in his office chair, just trying to get through the worst of it.

His promotion to Vice President gave him an excuse to distract himself from Suzanne’s avoidant behaviour, the way she would shrug him off, ignore his worried attention and tell him it was her body, she knew how to handle it and that she was the one carrying the baby, he needed to leave it to her. His mother offered to fly out to help, but he knew that would only add more tension to the marriage, and he didn’t need that. What he needed was for the baby to be born, so he and his wife could get back to their lives with their new child, and regain the affection that had been dropped in favour of uncomfortable silences and awkwardly-phrased comments about what might happen in the future. Suzanne reacted badly to any suggestions that her health issues would harm the baby, accusing Owen of pressuring her unfairly, and even going so far as to tell him he cared more about his career than her wants and needs, and therefore those of the baby.

Suzanne was only six months pregnant when her water broke and she went into premature labour. Owen dutifully rushed his wife to the hospital, panicked to the core, and what followed was a gruelling, uncertain delivery. As soon as the baby was out, Owen knew something was wrong; she wasn’t crying, and the doctors rushed her away to try and encourage her to breathe, and immediately, he began to face the possibility that their baby wouldn’t make it. He said nothing, hand over his mouth, as the medical staff worked, holding his wife’s hand but unable to look at her as she sobbed and asked what was happening, and why her daughter wasn’t crying. Babies were supposed to cry.

When they finally managed to get the baby to breathe, it wasn’t under her own power. The doctors wasted no time in bringing the couple up to speed, hiding none of the facts. Their daughter had been born too soon, dangerously premature; she was too small, her organs weren’t developed enough to work without the assistance of machines and incubators, and as a grim final blow, they told Owen and Suzanne that they should be prepared. In her condition, the baby would be lucky if she survived more than a matter of days.

Against the advice of the staff, those who dared to offer their opinions to the obviously strained and exhausted pair, Suzanne named their daughter, spending every waking minute at the side of the incubator, just staring at the little body inside: Leanne Filby was so tiny and weak that Owen, as shameful as he later found it, could barely even stay close to her for more than ten minutes without it affecting him to the point of breakdown or anger. He had warned his wife, asked, practically begged her to take better care of herself, and now here they were, watching their baby die. Working was pointless, he couldn’t concentrate, and over the next two weeks, he and Suzanne barely spoke to one another. What words they did exchange were almost cold, bordering on accusatory. Suzanne blamed Owen for working too much, and that hurt him, but he held his tongue. The hospital was no place to fight, and he lacked the energy to do so anyway. He was too tired.

After eighteen agonising days, Leanne finally passed away; though she had surpassed all expectations and lived beyond what the doctors had assumed, she had never truly responded to the care she was given, had never even really achieved consciousness. Suzanne was discharged, she and her husband returning to their home in pained silence, a state that lasted until after their daughter’s body was cremated and her ashes scattered into the sea. It was almost without words that they decided it was over. They had been struggling for some time, and the death of their daughter had been the straw to break the camel’s back. They filed for divorce without even arguing or fighting to save their marriage, and it seemed almost abrupt. Owen moved out of their house, taking his belongings and the puppy that had been intended for their daughter, and soon moved into an expensive but not over-the-top apartment in the suburbs, hearing only a few months down the road that Suzanne had left Los Angeles, returning to Boston to live nearer to her parents. The two maintained contact to discuss small matters that lingered after the papers were filed and the divorce finalised, but never saw each other after the final meetings with the solicitors.

Life for Owen seemed to switch back to how it had been before he met Suzanne; he went back to work, throwing himself into his career once again and trying to hide in it, short in his responses about how we was dealing with everything that had happened. It soon became obvious to his co-workers that he didn’t want to talk about what had happened, and he was quietly grateful when they stopped asking about it. And so he was content to work, return home to his companion, Zodiac, a female Shepherd he affectionately called Zo for short, and make new friends in the form of his neighbour, lawyer Marion Barnes. The routine became almost like clockwork, and Owen had no problem with that.

But on 24th August, 2006, Owen Filby’s life took a drastic, unexpected turn. Having dropped his car off at the garage for a routine check the previous day, he had resigned himself to using public transportation, but on the way home from work, later than expected because of a build-up of paperwork that he had been determined to finish, he encountered something not only surprising, but unbelievable. At first, Owen thought it to be a dog, perhaps someone’s rare, escaped pet, but when it locked its eyes on him and then charged, he had enough sense to turn tail and run, as futile as that proved to be. Managing to somehow wind up on a secluded street, out of the way of pedestrian traffic and therefore aid, Owen’s feral pursuer finally caught up to him, dragging him to the ground and proceeding to viciously wound his leg, arm and chest before something scared it off, sending it back into the alleys and shadows out of sight, leaving Owen, running purely on fear and adrenaline, to somehow drag himself to his feet and stumble back to his building.

Now that he’s there, of course, Owen hardly expects to get much further, not only in his journey, but in life.