Atlas Cross - Werewolf - Nomad [DONE] « Thread Started on Sept 7, 2009, 7:38pm »
How you came across this site: I was searching endlessly for a site that needed an Edward Cullen, considering my slight obsession back then <.< So naturally, things grew and now I'm.. I'm in love with this place. Character Name: Atlas Cross Character Age: 115/early 20s Gender: Male Sexual Orientation: Straight Species: Werewolf Coven/Nomad/Pack {ignore if human}: the Quidel pack (Royce's brood of children) Diet: Whatever's available.
Biography/History {2, 644}: Not many people truly know where the twins are from or how old they are. If one were to ask Atlas, he’d simply dodge the question or shrug it odd gruffly. Ask Argus and he’ll change the story every time. Their beginnings were somewhat humble, in all actuality. They had spent a good ten years of their formative childhood with their father Royce, who had actually raised them decently until their maternal grandfather had ruined the work he had put in out of sheer spite.
During Royce’s migration north he made it a point to avoid the civilization he loathed so much. After nearly a century, the rage that bottled up and suppressed within him was cooled enough to head into towns. The small make-shift population of French and native locals were working on a gateway between the oceans; something that when taken over by the Americans would be called the Panama Canal. Royce, then going by Quidel (*will just use Royce to avoid confusion*), took cover as a local and started working; trying desperately to keep himself busy from the aching sorrow that haunted him since the death of his first three children. It was while working that a young lady walked through the work site looking for her father. Her name was Jeanne –Marie Cross. Distracted for the first time by a human since the death of his beloved Aylen and their three children, Royce approached her.
They talked for a great deal of time and the young woman shared herself freely. She had learned Spanish, having been born here just as Royce was progressively picking up French from his fellow workers. She told him about her father and mother coming here from France to work on the passageway. She elaborated on how her mother died because of the disease the mosquitoes spread. For hours she talked, forgetting her father and captivating Royce in just how open and eccentric she was. It eased his loathing of the mortals around him. He had never met someone so intriguing since the death of his late wife. He even found himself, eventually, sharing about himself to an extent. He said he had a wife and children that were murdered by Spaniards. Over time, he was certain that he had fallen in love. He approached Jeanne-Marie’s father, Pascal, for permission to marry his daughter. Old and blatantly prejudiced against those that appeared native to the area (with a particular hatred for those of the mix-race persuasion), Pascal refused. Distraught and once again feeling his contempt for humans within him, he suggested they elope. Jeanne-Marie agreed and the two settled just outside the small town and conceived what would soon be twins.
Enraged, Pascal tried on several accounts to get his daughter to return home. Each attempt resulted in Royce’s rage peeking through his usually calm surface; display erratic behavior. He shook, he snarled, and ultimately displayed a violent reaction. Pascal would always retreat and go off to try to concoct a new way to get his daughter back. After nine months, Royce’s sons were born. First Argus and then Atlas four minutes later. Once more, Royce was transformed into the loving parent that very few have been lucky enough to witness. Having twins before, he knew to raise them equally. Despite the fair treatment, Atlas and Argus took part in constant competition with one another. Similar in cunning, the twins were often found in a stalemate; which both pained and amused their father.
Still, Pascal tried to have his daughter returned to him. Over the span of ten years, Quidel spent his time raising his sons a patrolling the area at night while some of the French withdrew from the area due to the cut of funding and the gross amount of disease in the area. One night, returning home in his divine form, he caught Pascal on the way to Royce and Jeanne-Marie’s home. Incensed, Royce sprang from the brush and chased the man back to town; tempted to kill him right then and there. He would soon learn that mercy was going to be a grave mistake. Convinced that his daughter’s bastard lover sent the beast after him, he organized a group of men to arrest what Pascal had convinced the masses was a sorcerer. They came to the home and arrested Royce in front of his own children.
That would be the last time they would see their father until decades later.
Shut into a cell, the werewolf finally accepted that humans were still the cruel race they had been before, he gave up on the idea of settling down. He escaped and returned home one last time, dropping a journal on the doorstep with a note that instructed Jeanne-Marie to give it to the boys when they grew older. Royce then continued North.
Jeanne-Marie was now alone to raise two boys alone in a time that was not liberal enough to allow such a thought and in an area where an adult male was needed. With no other choice, she moved back in with Pascal and the steady upbringing of the twins came to a screeching halt. Wanting to take out the fury he had against Royce, he took to singling out Argus in a negative way and spoiling Atlas. He grew progressively more abusive towards the eldest of the twins. To Atlas, he gave the gift of a proper upbringing and a well-rounded education while Argus taught himself most of his own things. Soon, the boys started varying differently. While both were intelligent in their own right, it seemed that their intelligence grew in poles apart.
Atlas, quickly took to a formal education as well as learning the ways people worked. He was a tutor’s dream as he was a quick study and understood the theory behind just about everything. Atlas found himself on a more physical field of learning, barely learning to read and doing most of the men’s work around the house throughout most of his teens. He could observe people and pick out a weakness quickly and had no problem applying what he observed. Each settled into a certain role when interacting. Atlas would take the helm of the conversation; finding a way to berate his brother in the process. Argus would listen, combat his brother with common sense rather than the educated spewing of book-learned knowledge; usually picking out some sort of nerve of his brother’s to pick at. Working together, they were effective and clicked famously. Each was what the other lacked and was a perfect team when getting past the constant bickering. Their fights, though, would be things that most that knew the family would never forget. Both ruthless in their own ways would still find themselves in drastic stalemates; resulting in black eyes, scars, burns, and missing teeth (Atlas is still missing one of his back molars and Argus has a rather nasty looking gash-like scar on his left side).
It wasn’t until they were 17, around the time Jeanne-Maria passed on from malaria, that the boys really became aware that they might be different. They quickly sprung up and seemed to age to look as if they were in their twenties. Their temper became more volatile towards one-another and their spats became more violent. They handled this differently. Atlas kept himself in control, to a certain degree. Argus was quickly spiraling out of control and becoming easier to provoke into violence. It was during one fight that Argus finally snapped, phasing first during one of their heated arguments (Atlas always liked to call them “discussions”) his eyes seemed feral, demonic, insane. He bolted toward the house; his intention to strike a final blow on Atlas that would level the playing field forever. Atlas followed, his own rage at the threat resulted in the same painful transformation. Argus’ large wolf form crashed into the house; barely able to fit in. His nostrils trembled. He was looking for someone. It was in the study of the house that Argus found him. With a wicked wolfish grin, he took revenge upon his abuser. By the time Atlas caught up, it was safe to say that Pascal Cross was more than dead and well on his way to being digested.
Unable for either to change back, the brothers gazed upon each other with a newfound venom. Argus had taken to this physical change quicker but at the cost of a clear-headed mind. Atlas quietly bided his time while the brothers eventually worked out a truce until they could figure out what was happening to them. It wasn’t until they changed back that Atlas sprung, taking to Argus’ dome with one of the old leather-bound books in the study. The blood stained the cover but the wounds quickly healed; leaving Argus doubled over on the floor with manic laughter. Atlas threw the book to the ground; content to spring at his brother to finish the job with his bare hands.
It was Atlas’ attention to detail that he realized the cover page and the name on the inside. It was a book their father, a man they remembered with an equal amount of fondness, had apparently written in. Still unsure what had happened to them, they remained in an uneasy truce as Atlas read the book aloud. Things clicked while others did not. The journal seemed to be an explanation of Royce’s past and his reasons for leaving the twins and their mother. It also left a description as to what they were. They were the stuff of gods. Their father wrote about this ability to change into a large wolf and realization hit them. Royce then went on to describe that mortals would not be able to fully understand them and while he had never met others like him, something told him more existed but none like him or his future bloodlines. The twins were clever and natural skeptics. Unfortunately, what had just happened to them had proven any disbelief false. Things like this very well could happen, just as the journal verified. The book contained descriptions of how Royce felt during his initial phasing and the later pain he suffered and the might that being what they were held with them.
At the end of the leather-bound book Royce left an open invitation to find him. No location was given except for the challenge that if the twins were worthy of their father’s forming ambitions that they could hunt him down. Apt for the challenge, Argus was raring to go while Atlas wanted to contemplate this further. Aggravated, yet another fight broke out between the twins. Evenly matched, it took a cheap shot from the older of the twins to subdue Atlas. So, with that done, they packed what they could and whatever valuables that they could sell and set off North. Thinking that they were alone in this world, considering their father never wrote of others with powers such as them, the twins never thought that they would run into more of their kind. Yet alone siblings.
It was in Mexico while they were traveling in their phased forms that they heard the thoughts of others in their heads. The twins stopped their traveling after Atlas’ urging to investigate and approached the city. It had been years since they had first phased. Nearly decades since they had started traveling North. Unfortunately, what they had not anticipated was what could have been considered a turf war. Two wolves, only a few years apart in age, assumed that the twins were trying to encroach upon their established territories. Despite Atlas’ attempts at diplomacy, the male and female wolves attacked. It took a stalemate for a chance to properly explain themselves present.
Mercedes Vasco and Rafael Harmon were their attackers. When given that brief moment to collect, the twins managed to find at least that much out. They had yet to learn that the two were half siblings, yet alone related to them or their father. The fight ensued and it took some particularly unfair moves from Atlas and Argus to subdue their attackers. Naturally, there were questions. A conversation turned quickly into a bickering session. Meanwhile, Atlas and Mercedes remained silent. Eyeing each other while searching their minds to find that not only were the four of them linked, but also it seemed that they were of the same brood. All the while Argus and Rafael were about to come to blows. After being restrained, they shape shifters waited until they had calmed down in order to phase back. Despite the static in the air between the two groups, Atlas explained their link and then started to explain what was in the journal; never letting Mercedes or Rafael see the book. The two hadn’t known their fathers, but it explained the bond that the two had. It filled the youngest with questions and a purpose. Rafael, brash as ever, invited himself to join the twins to meet the father that he never knew. Mercedes found herself with the option of being alone and letting Rafael leave with these outsiders, or to keep an eyes on her “brothers”. She chose the latter but constantly reminded them that she was not thrilled to do so.
They set off, back on the journey to try and find the man they all called father that had propped them up on the pedestals of what would be legends. In following this trail, they ended up coming upon offspring left in Royce’s wake. Dallas Laslo, a Southern ranch hand possessed a similar talent and had started changing just as the foursome reached Texas. Because of the communication that they could share through a mental link when phased, it became apparent that this man was a product of their father. Sparking a curiosity in the simple young man that wanted to understand the family he had never known, Dallas joined them and they continued North. After thirty or so years of traveling, the group found the very man that had kept their travels rolling onward. While Atlas was enthralled with Royce’s ideas for a world order, Argus seemed less than impressed. He boredly listened to the two go back and forth about plans of claiming land; especially now that Royce had managed to spend quite a deal of his time alone infiltrating packs and exhausting their members till his purposes were filled. It inspired the two to constantly go on about these plots and Argus just simply shrugged; thinking that a fight like that would be a bit interesting for him. Unlike the rest of his siblings, Argus just wanted to see the world around him burn.
Leaving without notice, Royce scouted forward; leaving instructions for the group to head south for some time until he returned with some sort of plan of attack. So they waited’ settling in Jacksonville and claiming part of Florida as their territory. All the while the twins started to grow impatient and would start traveling out a bit to see if they could scout more allies. Royce would return every so often, but never long enough to allow his children to form any particular rapport with him unless it were the twins (whom he saw as the dominant figures of this pack). It was after years or so of traveling back and forth that the twins would recruit Natalie Fox; the youngest and last of Royce’s present line of offspring. They brought her back and it seemed that the group was complete. Shortly after Natalie’s recruiting, though, Royce returned briefly with a message. Their ambitions would finally come to light. All they had to do was poise themselves in Forks. The pack alternates between who is in which area to make sure that their current territory is still protected and that there are available resources at Royce’s disposal.
Appearance: Atlas, upon first impression, doesn’t initially seem like anything special. Yes, he is exceedingly tall compared to a human; coming up to about 6’4”. Like his brother, though, his frame seems proportionate. There is nothing ultimately that threatening about him at first glance since he has an average, yet athletic, build for a guy his height. That sense of undamaging wears away quickly upon looking into his dark brown eyes. There’s something in that sharp, dark gaze that just won’t let something drop. Be it silent fury, mischief, or even affection; he can’t hide it from those that look into his gaze.
Fortunately, Atlas, for the most part, has a smooth way of carrying himself, and without a single bit of effort he's a people-magnet. He has a brown mess of hair that he usually never bothers with. It sticks out in most directions and he most certainly could care less how it looks. When he does care… he’s up to something. The proportions on his face have a sort of wolfish quality to them. His eyes meet the bridge of nose and slope down to the tip of the feature to a set of smirking lips very much so the way that a wolf’s would. His eyebrows are a tad unruly and his face is lightly shaven. There is a smile constantly on his features, like he knows a joke that he will never tell.
He stands as tall as his height will allow him, and just as broad, giving him an aura of self confidence and self knowledge. His walk tends to hold a certain puzzled pattern to it, as if it took him years to put his incredibly fluid pace together. Along with this calm behavior and initial impression of a man of strength, there is always this odd sense of menace that travels with him; like a stray dog wandering that makes one question whether or not to give it a bone or to put it down because it is rabid.
Celebrity Claim: Zachary Quinto
Personality {min. 100 words, at least 3 strengths and 3 weaknesses included}: Atlas is a great deal like his father. He is a calculating young man with a certain amount of potential for leadership that his environmental surroundings butchered do to laziness. He looks at oncoming problems like they are his favorite puzzles or games. He has a certain knack for reading people that his brother seems to lack. While he and Argus are very similar in their brute nature, Atlas feigns sophistication in an attempt to gain the approval of others. He appears to be more of a politician than his brothers and sisters. He’s very willing to manipulate a situation for the favor of his siblings, but mainly himself. He is resourceful and, despite his ambitions, is shockingly humble in comparison to his father as well as his brother. He is a verbose individual, but each word is specifically planned; almost poetic in the nature in which he talks. He is very careful in the way he does things and the manner in which he plans them. That said, he still does enjoy the occasional mind game that his charms can bring into fruition. A mean spirit lurks beneath the surface of this people pleaser, he is just more subtle than his brash twin.
strengths, 1. leadership skillz. 2. a way of "reading people." 3. resourceful and ambitious.
weaknesses, 1. lazy bastard. 2. due to his natural ability to read someone, atlas is judgmental very fast within meeting a person, and some can see this as a moral flaw. 3. though some may disagree, atlas being a "people-pleaser" is somewhat a disadvantage for him as well as an advantage. pleasing others has always been an importance to him, even so much as to making him give up on pleasing himself first; he's never truly happy.
Power: Can EXPLOOODE into a big ass wolf.
Quote:
With the wolves, here is my thing. I want them, when phased, to only have a psychic link with their pack (meaning those that are only related by blood). They can relay a message to their father, Royce, in order to act as a go-between with other wolves, or one of the Quidel pack can exert a lot of focus to reach out to another wolf. But they cannot hear. In order to communicate with a nomadic wolf, or a wolf of another pack, they must be in human form and speak verbally. [This connection is naturally only pending approval but I thought it would be an interesting twist since all of those in this pack are blood related.]
RP Sample: Quote:
With over a century behind him, it didn’t come as a surprise to the lightly-shaven man when he had lingered into Seattle and Port Angeles to find nothing but disappointment. The typical throbbing cities came as an annoyance to him, and each time he caught a stranger’s eye, Atlas might as well of been scowling in disgust at them. But he wandered onwards, taking days and even weeks to pass through the state of Washington, lingering the streets with a stained white-shirt-and-jeans outfit, of course hardly bothering with the idea of shoes in time of travel. The city his father had settled in was far less than Atlas had expected.. But with the man being gone for nearly his entire life, Atlas almost didn’t care to know what, why or how his narcissistic bastard of a father had done to get where he was now. All the youthful-looking man needed to do was get there with him.
On a night like any other, Atlas found himself exhausted from the area his father had been snaking through, and with the slightest of movements and no more than a twitch of his upper lip, changed the direction of his footsteps and headed towards the more isolated areas of the state. When the yellowing forest of La Push finally surrounded him, Atlas stripped from his clothing and phased into the massive wolf he knew all too well. He ran fluidly, both his strides and breaths set at a careless whisper. Either he was just nonchalant or actually senile, the one-hundred and fifteen year old swindler of nature carried onwards, never losing a beat even as the scent of an obvious pack of his own kind and their territory filled his subtlety-flared nostrils.
It wasn’t until these scents began to change did Atlas discover a slight hesitance in his legs, immediately slowing his pace to linger on the various smells. He could smell the human life, the alcohol that fueled so many of their lives, could smell the scents of his own kind, the stench of his enemies and the sickly heart beats of the innocent bystanding mortals, all accompanied by a stagnant reek of a half-abandoned bay lined with rotten wooden docks and an uninterrupted view of the speckled night sky. His ears pulled forward in mild interest, the dull amber in his eyes carefully watching the faint glow of something just short of an actual town. Maybe a lonely bench could be his bed tonight… The idea was sickly pleasing to him; at least it wouldn’t have to be the thorny forest floor or a cold sidewalk, which he’d be kicked off from anyway by a cop with a nightstick up his ass. Already happened a time or two since he’d arrived in this worthless state.
With the slightest of interest, Atlas turned his head below his shoulder, lifting his hind leg to his mouth where with one easy bite, the black cord snapped in two and fell to the forest floor below. The clothes he had been wearing for days rolled out amongst the leaves, mopping up even more dirt to the cotton and denim fibers. He snorted in slight annoyance to himself before taking only a few steps away from the thinning tree line and behind an aging red wood, where with only a single blink of his chocolate-hued eyes, the massive werewolf became a tall, angular man. Phasing was hardly anything to him anymore, having over a century of mastering the task with perfect command and self obedience. Emitting nothing more than an inaudible sigh of nothing in particular, Atlas went to his clothes and dressed himself in only seconds, stuffing the broken cord in his jean pocket and leaving the forest with somewhat of a lagging pace, his lack of interest obvious in his lazy steps.
He walked casually down the street, stopping only when the asphalt turned into wood and the polluted air became saturated with salt from the abandoned bay. Through flared nostrils he sucked in a deep inhale, tasting a heavy twinge of alcohol further down the rotten docks. “If it ain’t broken, don’t fix itttt!” It was instantly clear from the slurred howl that Atlas wasn’t alone, and though the realization didn’t exactly bother him, it wasn’t like he preferred it. Who would want a drunkard yelling into the night as company? Atlas sighed to himself, shaking his head and taking stride towards the slightly pungent stench of the human and his poison of choice. “All right… Show yourself!”
“Well considering there’s no hiding from the amount of shouting you’re doing…” He spoke smoothly, rounding the corner to reveal himself to a man that had all but crumbled to the hard wood below. Atlas lifted a single eyebrow at his rippling laughter, and couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle in kind of an involuntary response; the human man was highly intoxicated and highly hysterical, how could he not laugh? “I’m not even going to ask what’s so humorous…”
Kudos to Frost for the bio, personality, most of the appearance and the celebrity claim. <3
Re: Atlas Cross - Werewolf - Nomad [WIP] « Reply #1 on Oct 24, 2009, 2:26pm »
Hey! Awesome that you're making Atlas and awesome that it's almost done. I do need a few things, though. You can check Argus' bio for them (like age and what's under the Powers section). For the personality, I still need to see the strengths and weakenesses (if you think there's anything I missed when I made the personality you can add his personaly strengths and flaws that you think he needs). I also need to see an rp sample as well.
put [Done] in the title when you've finished. Thanks!
Re: Atlas Cross - Werewolf - Nomad [DONE] « Reply #3 on Nov 4, 2009, 2:32pm »
Any chance you could expand on the strengths and weaknesses a bit? The rp sample looks good on my end but I would just like to see some expansion on just that since I'm intrigued about them. How do you perceive Argus to be his weakness? Please just expand on those and I think we're gravy.
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