Post by sylva on May 28, 2011 1:56:46 GMT -5
Secret Code: *The Clocks Marches on Forever*
Name: James Wilson Alias: Mr. Sylva Lokvirin
Date of Birth: April 3 1745
Place of Birth: England
Age: 143
Profession: Mercenary/Thief for hire
Appearance: Thin and a bit peckish, Sylva is supple and has a surprising amount of hidden strength. Permanently shadowed azure cat-slit eyes are set within a pallid face. Hair obsidian black is always pulled in a tail at the nape of the neck minus his bangs which frame his face. Despite his unhealthy demeanor he has a perpetual smile, almost as if he knows something the world around him knows not. He takes great pride in his appearance despite his sickly demeanor.
A white colter shirt with black silk shirt garters is over lapped by a violet double breasted violet vest and a silver ascot. Y-suspenders underneath the vest hold up black fall front trousers. A charcoal gray frock with violet inner lining is completed by a black top hat with a violet band. He is often seen strolling with a silver cat's headed walking stick. Well worn riding boots clack upon cobble stone as he walks. Formal white gloves are often worn whether meeting one in business affairs or simply enjoying the sights around him. The flash of silver collar studs can be occasionally seen by passerby and, as time is usually of the essence for this man, he also is in possession of a fine but bloodstained pocket watch.
Personality: Crafty and cunning Sylva tends to stay a step ahead of those who would bare him ill will. A master of games and manipulation he does well for himself as a thief for hire and mercenary. He has a reputation of being able to get into places many thought impervious to invasion and is the constant pain in any inspector's side.
Though many believe him to be a cold blooded individual the man is not without some charm. Ever smiling despite sickly appearance he does his out most to be hospitable and a proper English gentleman.
Despite his chosen profession Sylva does not consider himself as a rouge. On the contrary he sees himself as a provider of a civic service. When he takes a job of any sort he only takes one that he would see as beneficial to the society as a whole. Like for example if he were to take a job of stealing information that would topple a corrupt individual within the government. Or as a mercenary assassinate someone whose machinations would threaten the status quot of the current governmental system.
Finally as with any Englishman he has a profound weakness for tea, hats, and is fiercely protective of the Queen, even though he may not live in Britain anymore.
Blood Type: AB+
Race/Special: Were-panther. Cat-like balance, reflexes, and graces. Night vision, and heightened senses, increased strength. Can heal from almost any wound, but is limited to an intact body. If one were to decapitate him he would die, and he cannot regrow a lost limb or regrow a removed organ but can repair a damaged one. So in a sense a ruptured heart wouldn't kill him but it would put him out of commission but a removed head means dead. Also if too much damage is inflicted his recovery ability won't be able to heal all the damage thus it could potentially kill him. Stopped aging from the moment he was attacked. Skilled with a rapier, throwing knifves and revolver.
Can transform into a horse sized panther at will but beneath a new moon he goes berserk in this animal form and no one, friend and foe alike, is safe.
History: Born to English peasants in 1745, within the rule of King George II, times were difficult for James Wilson as his father died shortly after his birth in the Battle of Inverurie against the Jacobites during the rebellions against the king. The next year however the rebellions had ended and there was relative peace within the country. At the age of ten another event shaped the founding of young James' life. His beloved mother Mary died during child birth as did the child whom James christened Amanda as he buried them both next to his father. At the ripe age of ten James was an orphan and decidedly left the farm on which he was raised and headed to the one place he believed he would be able to survive. London.
For thirteen years the orphaned youth grew into a thief and talented fighter in brawls in the filthy back alleys. Eventually he left London and entered the moors to the north and was attacked by a strange beast. The brutal mauling had left him heavily injured but it also brought out another change. The creature that had attacked him was none other than a shape shifter. He did not discover this fact until the next new moon came to rise and he had transformed attacking a peaceful village in the process. He was stopped by another monstrous were-panther that was able to communicate with him through his red eyed hunt against the peoples of the small village.
After coming to to his senses in an unfamiliar place on the outskirts of Nottingham, he met the man responsible for his new life. A man called Vermilion. The ancient shape shifter taught James the ways of the damned and how to blend in society. For 40 years Vermilion and James wandered the British countryside before parting ways. The day James and the ancient panther parted ways James had forsaken his old name and took the name Sylva Lokvirin. Ever since then he has returned to London and for the last 80 years he has secretly hidden in the criminal underground, not only within the walls of London but throughout the world, taking jobs in the name of the Royal Crown. While away on an assignment in Russia he contracted a case of cholera in 1854 and has permanently been dealing with the disease though the bouts of vomiting and diarrhea had long since past the toll of the disease caused him to have a permanently sunken and sickly appearance.
Family~
Parents: John Wilson and Mary Wilson (deceased)
Sibling: Amanda Wilson (stillbirth)
Children: None that he knows of...
Sample Post: The colour of the tea was dark and rich and the taste was definitely an Earl Grey. The heat of the tea was scalding but it was the way Sylva liked it. It was difficult for the picky Englishman to find a good tea here in the States but he had to admit the tea he was sipping was exquisite, even if it was made here in the rebel states. Being an elder being he tended to veiw the U.S as a rebellious colony although he had to admit it was doing well and prosperous as its own country.
His azure eyes surveyed the passerby calmly and any trained eye could tell that despite his mannerisms he was ever alert, his eyes taking in every detail they could capture, calculating distances, geographical layouts and possible escape ways if the need arose. He had been in Boston for ten standard days and despite the American views especially towards the British he found himself quite comfortable.
Sylva finished his tea and set it upon the saucer and arose pulling some coins from his pocket to cover for the tea. A theif he may have been but he was hardly dishonorable. With a dignified air, he put on his top and pulled it low over his eyes to hide the abnormality and strolled down the street walk his cat's head cane clicking every couple of steps. He had a mission for the Queen to attend to. And Sylva would be damned before he failed. It would be a stain not only on his name and honor but on the name of his country.
Name: James Wilson Alias: Mr. Sylva Lokvirin
Date of Birth: April 3 1745
Place of Birth: England
Age: 143
Profession: Mercenary/Thief for hire
Appearance: Thin and a bit peckish, Sylva is supple and has a surprising amount of hidden strength. Permanently shadowed azure cat-slit eyes are set within a pallid face. Hair obsidian black is always pulled in a tail at the nape of the neck minus his bangs which frame his face. Despite his unhealthy demeanor he has a perpetual smile, almost as if he knows something the world around him knows not. He takes great pride in his appearance despite his sickly demeanor.
A white colter shirt with black silk shirt garters is over lapped by a violet double breasted violet vest and a silver ascot. Y-suspenders underneath the vest hold up black fall front trousers. A charcoal gray frock with violet inner lining is completed by a black top hat with a violet band. He is often seen strolling with a silver cat's headed walking stick. Well worn riding boots clack upon cobble stone as he walks. Formal white gloves are often worn whether meeting one in business affairs or simply enjoying the sights around him. The flash of silver collar studs can be occasionally seen by passerby and, as time is usually of the essence for this man, he also is in possession of a fine but bloodstained pocket watch.
Personality: Crafty and cunning Sylva tends to stay a step ahead of those who would bare him ill will. A master of games and manipulation he does well for himself as a thief for hire and mercenary. He has a reputation of being able to get into places many thought impervious to invasion and is the constant pain in any inspector's side.
Though many believe him to be a cold blooded individual the man is not without some charm. Ever smiling despite sickly appearance he does his out most to be hospitable and a proper English gentleman.
Despite his chosen profession Sylva does not consider himself as a rouge. On the contrary he sees himself as a provider of a civic service. When he takes a job of any sort he only takes one that he would see as beneficial to the society as a whole. Like for example if he were to take a job of stealing information that would topple a corrupt individual within the government. Or as a mercenary assassinate someone whose machinations would threaten the status quot of the current governmental system.
Finally as with any Englishman he has a profound weakness for tea, hats, and is fiercely protective of the Queen, even though he may not live in Britain anymore.
Blood Type: AB+
Race/Special: Were-panther. Cat-like balance, reflexes, and graces. Night vision, and heightened senses, increased strength. Can heal from almost any wound, but is limited to an intact body. If one were to decapitate him he would die, and he cannot regrow a lost limb or regrow a removed organ but can repair a damaged one. So in a sense a ruptured heart wouldn't kill him but it would put him out of commission but a removed head means dead. Also if too much damage is inflicted his recovery ability won't be able to heal all the damage thus it could potentially kill him. Stopped aging from the moment he was attacked. Skilled with a rapier, throwing knifves and revolver.
Can transform into a horse sized panther at will but beneath a new moon he goes berserk in this animal form and no one, friend and foe alike, is safe.
History: Born to English peasants in 1745, within the rule of King George II, times were difficult for James Wilson as his father died shortly after his birth in the Battle of Inverurie against the Jacobites during the rebellions against the king. The next year however the rebellions had ended and there was relative peace within the country. At the age of ten another event shaped the founding of young James' life. His beloved mother Mary died during child birth as did the child whom James christened Amanda as he buried them both next to his father. At the ripe age of ten James was an orphan and decidedly left the farm on which he was raised and headed to the one place he believed he would be able to survive. London.
For thirteen years the orphaned youth grew into a thief and talented fighter in brawls in the filthy back alleys. Eventually he left London and entered the moors to the north and was attacked by a strange beast. The brutal mauling had left him heavily injured but it also brought out another change. The creature that had attacked him was none other than a shape shifter. He did not discover this fact until the next new moon came to rise and he had transformed attacking a peaceful village in the process. He was stopped by another monstrous were-panther that was able to communicate with him through his red eyed hunt against the peoples of the small village.
After coming to to his senses in an unfamiliar place on the outskirts of Nottingham, he met the man responsible for his new life. A man called Vermilion. The ancient shape shifter taught James the ways of the damned and how to blend in society. For 40 years Vermilion and James wandered the British countryside before parting ways. The day James and the ancient panther parted ways James had forsaken his old name and took the name Sylva Lokvirin. Ever since then he has returned to London and for the last 80 years he has secretly hidden in the criminal underground, not only within the walls of London but throughout the world, taking jobs in the name of the Royal Crown. While away on an assignment in Russia he contracted a case of cholera in 1854 and has permanently been dealing with the disease though the bouts of vomiting and diarrhea had long since past the toll of the disease caused him to have a permanently sunken and sickly appearance.
Family~
Parents: John Wilson and Mary Wilson (deceased)
Sibling: Amanda Wilson (stillbirth)
Children: None that he knows of...
Sample Post: The colour of the tea was dark and rich and the taste was definitely an Earl Grey. The heat of the tea was scalding but it was the way Sylva liked it. It was difficult for the picky Englishman to find a good tea here in the States but he had to admit the tea he was sipping was exquisite, even if it was made here in the rebel states. Being an elder being he tended to veiw the U.S as a rebellious colony although he had to admit it was doing well and prosperous as its own country.
His azure eyes surveyed the passerby calmly and any trained eye could tell that despite his mannerisms he was ever alert, his eyes taking in every detail they could capture, calculating distances, geographical layouts and possible escape ways if the need arose. He had been in Boston for ten standard days and despite the American views especially towards the British he found himself quite comfortable.
Sylva finished his tea and set it upon the saucer and arose pulling some coins from his pocket to cover for the tea. A theif he may have been but he was hardly dishonorable. With a dignified air, he put on his top and pulled it low over his eyes to hide the abnormality and strolled down the street walk his cat's head cane clicking every couple of steps. He had a mission for the Queen to attend to. And Sylva would be damned before he failed. It would be a stain not only on his name and honor but on the name of his country.
