Post by Connor on Jan 4, 2012 4:31:26 GMT
Name: Connor Hall.
Nicknames: Goes by the alias Connor O'Malley.
Race: Werewolf; bitten.
Occupation: Odd jobs – anything from waiting tables to boosting the occasional car.
Gender: Male.
Skin Color: Tanned Caucasian
Age: 319; appears to be in his early 30s.
Clothing: Connor dresses for comfort and practicality more than anything else – style has never been a real concern of his. Most of his clothing is dark or neutral; he owns more black shirts than one person really needs, but if nothing else, it makes it easy for him to stay inconspicuous. More often than not, you will see Connor in some kind of dark shirt, plain, sturdy jeans and his steel-capped combat boots. He owns a set of professional-grade racing leathers, as well.
Height: 5’9”
Weight: 164lbs.
Tattoos: Tada gan iarracht (nothing without effort) – outer left forearm, teaghlaigh (family) – inner right wrist, and an intricate Celtic design on his right biceps.
Piercings: None.
Jewellery: A pewter bracelet and a sturdy watch on a leather strap.
Body Modifications: There are the scars from his turning on the upper portion of his left leg, and another scar from a silver blade on his chest.
Wolf Form
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Build: Very much like an actual wolf, he has a broad, muscular body, with relatively thin legs. The wolf prefers to move on four legs, although he can move on two if needed. Coarse thick hair all over his body, especially around his neck, rather like a mane.
Height: Bipedal- 7’8”; Quadruped- 4’11”
Weight: 229lbs
Hair: Black.
Eyes: White.
Defining Marks: A thick, busy tail.
Pack[/i]
Pack: None
Position: None
Territory: None
Hair[/i]
Length: Just above his ears.
Style: Haphazard. Connor doesn't do much besides run a comb through his hair first thing in the morning.
Color: Light brown, although it can look darker in places.
Facial Hair
Length: Quarter-inch to a half-inch, at the most.
Style: Connor keeps himself well-groomed, though he doesn't usually go clean-shaven -- he looks like a twelve-year-old when he does.
Eyes
Color: Blue
Oddities: When scared, threatened, angry or playful they will flash their supernatural white.
Personality: Surprisingly enough, Connor is about as unassuming as they come. He is an observer, quiet, especially when confronted with strangers. People he meets never really become closer than amiable acquaintances, partly because he is always on the move, partly because he just doesn't have it in him to really trust people. Connor will always be polite, even friendly, but he will never really bring someone into his confidence until they have proven themselves.
Connor's courteous and gentle nature should not be mistaken for frailty. He is still a male wolf, and a bruiser of a male, at that. He knows how to defend himself and others, should a threat arise. He cannot abide cruelty, or people who prey on weakness. There's something of a hero complex there, a foolish notion that his power and strength as a wolf means he has a responsibility to those who are less capable of defending themselves. His temper is on a long and slow-burning fuse, but once that fuse goes, Connor can be capable of frightening brutality.
Fortunately, Connor has more to him than cool civility and misplaced heroism. Once Connor finds that he can trust someone, he can let his guard down – he might relax and even crack a smile or two, which tends to be something of a sight. Connor has one of those massive, million-watt smiles, made all the brighter by the fact that it might take a little work to coax it out. He is mischievous, even downright cheeky, but never mean-spirited with his humor. In truth, he wants nothing more than to simply belong somewhere or to someone. Connor has spent so much of his life running and moving that he's just tired. He just wants to find a place to call home.
Weaknesses: Hero complex. Will often dive headlong into dangerous situations – especially if another's life is at stake – without thinking out a complete stragedy. Stubborn, maddeningly so; if his gut is telling him something, Connor will always follow it, even if common sense would dictate otherwise. Like the rest of his species, his body cannot abide silver. The metal burns him on contact, prolonged exposure to it can make him very ill, and a weapon made of the stuff could easily kill him.
Abilities: Relatively immortal, he has heightened abilities, such as speed, agility, stamina, strength. All of his senses are off the chart, as is the increased tolerance to pain and rapid healing. He is well trained in hand-to-hand combat with enough varying styles and techniques to make him comparable to a mixed martial arts fighter. He has been trained with firearms, as well, but actually prefers a close contact fight. Connor remembers a little Irish Gaelic and is fluent in French. He has a passion for motorcyles, with enough knowledge on the subject to be one hell of a racer and an accomplished mechanic.
Weapons: Two Smith & Wessons, one Glock, and a folding knife.
Prized Possessions: His father's sketch of his half-brother, and his motorcycle.
Home(s): An apartment in Cole’s side of L.A – he does not intend to stay there long.
History: Connor's father was a bit of a nutter, at least according to the neighbors in the village he grew up in. They all knew Old Man Hall meant well, keeping his only son all cooped in the house like that, but that was no way to raise a bright young lad. Connor could have grown up to be resentful and rebellious, but he appreciated the quiet home life. Quinn Hall could have left Connor's mother high and dry, abandoning her to raise a bastard boy among her strict Irish Catholic neighbors, but he didn't. He married Miss Cathleen with only a small amount of grumbling, promising to provide for her and her son whatever he could. Cathleen passed away some weeks after Connor's sixth birthday, and Quinn Hall's over-protective tendencies only increased.
Connor, for the most part, was able to appreciate the quiet home life – he didn't much see the appeal of kicking up chaos around town, but he did notice that some of his father's strict rules were a bit… odd. Dogs were never allowed near their home, and any that entered or came too close were shot on sight, his father claiming a phobia of them. During the nights of the full moon, Connor would sometimes come downstairs to find his father awake, sitting with a loaded gun and staring at the bolted door as if he feared an attack from outside. The few friends that Connor actually made were treated with extreme suspicion, and the young man was always made to wear a silver cross on a silver chain around his neck – his father was driven to near panic one morning when Connor forgot to put it on, so he never removed the bit of jewerly, even wearing it to bed at night.
It wasn't until his father's death that Connor discovered the reasoning behind his strange behavior. While clearing out some of his father’s things, he came across an old chest. Inside were papers, mentioning a Quinn and a Dylan Hall. At first, Connor thought they referred to his father and another member of his family, but on closer reading of the papers, he realised that they were sons of his father – two brothers that Connor had never heard of, until now; two brothers who, according to his father's writing, had been bitten and turned into werewolves. Werewolves.
There was a moment when Connor thought his neighbos were right – his father really had been a nutter.
It certainly would have been an easier explanation to believe than werewolves, but as 17-year-old Connor continued to read, his late father's seemingly erratic behavior came to make sense. The insistence on his wearing silver, the fear of dogs and wolves – all because of what had happened to his sons. To Dylan and Quinn. Connor kept digging through the old chest, devouring all the information he could until he found a sketch, done in his father's hand. It was Dylan. Connor took in the simple image of his brother's face and realized that this was the only family he had left. Quinn was gone, but he still had Dylan, and the idea of being able to have someone to rely on again, a brother, was enough to get Connor moving. Armed with his father's knowledge, he set out, determined to find the last of his family.
For nearly five years, Connor made his way through Ireland and England, following every lead no matter how small. It was tough work, leading to disappointment more often than not, but he was too stubborn to pack it in and go home.
Unfortunately for Connor, it wasn't just werewolves that he needed to worry about. He came to learn this the hard way one evening in southern England, just outside the county of Kent. The men, bandits, caught him without warning, and while Connor knew enough to defend himself, there was no way he could battle these foes – the were fast, freakishly so, and so much stronger than any humans had a right to be. They beat him, badly, and as Connor was looking up from the ground, he came to realize that his attackers were not human at all.
Humans didn't have fangs, and they certainly didn't have red eyes.
One of the monsters picked him up by the hair. He fought weakly, struggling to push the man back when he felt those fangs sink into his neck. Connor heard himself scream just before consciousness fled.
He came to when he felt his back hit the ground. There was some kind of thick ash covering his body, but he couldn't lift his head to investigate – he was so tired. Warm, gentle hands touched his face and, for a moment, he was able to focus on the face of the woman who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. She was lovely, with curling dark hair and wide blue eyes, and she was talking to him. Apologizing.
It didn't make any sense to Connor, especially considering his present state. He felt another shock of pain, this time down his leg, before he lost consciousness again.
The woman's name was Jolene. She would be the first wolf that Connor would encounter on his search to find his brother. Jolene was a fighter with a local pack – she had seen Connor's attack while out on patrol and should have killed him after executing the vampires – because clearly werewolves weren't crazy enough – that had attacked him, but then she had seen the drawing clutched in his hand. She had taken pity on him. The vampire had bitten deep, tearing into a main blood vessel with the intent of draining Connor dry. He would have died, had Jolene not torn into his leg with wolfen claws to turn him.
She explained all this to Connor when he finally awoke from his three-day coma. It was a lot to process, to be sure, but he found that he wasn't frightened or upset. Being made wolf meant he was stronger, and faster than he had ever been as a human. Jolene and her pack were friendly enough; her Alphas had been less than thrilled with her turning a human without express permission, but Connor proved to be a valuable asset to their pack. He was tought to fight and to shoot, and came to learn the meaning of true loyalty. Jolene became one of his closest friends – almost a mentor – and his fellow wolves were good people. Some of them were loud and boisterous, others more stoic, but they all came together like a unit. Like pack.
It was enough to lure Connor into their ranks for nearly one hundred years. He was happy, really happy for the first time in a long while and he wanted so desperately to hold onto that happiness. He didn't need to scrape for food or watch his back anymore, but there came a time when the longing hit again. Pack, however wonderful, just wasn't the same as true family. He made the decision to break away when the pack relocated to America at the start of the 20th century. Jolene was heartbroken, but understanding. His Alphas made it clear that, should he find himself needing anything – anything at all – he would always have a place with them. Connor is still grateful to that pack for what they did for him. Splitting off from them was the most difficult decision of his life, but it had to be done.
Picking up where he had left off proved to be easier said than done. Connor had been off his game for almost a century, after all, and he was in a completely different country. It took time for him to find a trail again and pull together the resources he needed to continue his search, but he hasn't stopped looking, even after being disappointed time and time again. Connor has no idea what might happen once he finally finds his brother, but he can only hope that it will happen soon.