Post by Donovan Hood on Feb 28, 2012 8:03:15 GMT -5
GENERAL
Birth Name: Donovan Hood.
Nick Name:The White Devil.
Race: Vampire.
Age: Appears late 20s, [117 actual.]
Gender:Male.
Occupation: An American link to the third largest Hispanic Cartel [Juarez Cartel] attempting to gain foothold in the American West and Border states. Assassinations, drug and weapons tracking, owns several 'safe houses' in the area rented by Cartel leaders for young Mexican Sicarios and other henchmen.
Income: Nearly 100k weekly.
Birthplace:New York.
Current Location:San Diego.
Family Relations:None of note, children and grand children of his cousins have small families on the East Coast that are his only living family, though he's long detached himself from them.
Weapon: .38 Special Colt Revolver, but most any can be acquired through connections.
Other Items Owned:Properties; living quarters and warehouses through San Diego and other metropolitan areas of the far south west. An apartment in New York.
BACKGROUND
Personality:He has become callous and cold from all he's seen in life and again in the world that followed. Most emotions are feigned but seem genuine. He is very calculating and is often the study of the bahaviors of those around him, lessons from his detective past.
Detailed History:
1924. New York City. It was an autumn night, and although it wasn't especially cold, the random breeze passing through the city streets had a chilly bite against the skin of Donovan's cheeks. Blood rushed to them giving them a rosy hue barely visible under the incandescence of the moon.
He was on the hunt tonight, perhaps the most ambitious of his career, a move that might give his superiors a reinforced resolve to promote him to the newly vacant Captain position. The plan was take down Alley Cat Guisseppe and Gats Malone, two mobsters that have given the entire department fits for the last two years. Everyone knew Donovan was possibly the best, and this would cement the claims.
Hood had done his research little by little over the last few weeks, checking and rechecking sources and informants and shaking down known thugs with promises of jail time. He had moved the operation along a little quicker than he normally would, but visions of grandeur in a new promotion to Captain lit a fire under him. Lately he could hardly sleep more than a couple hours. Everything was to come together on this night.
He approached the docks on foot, having parked his car a few blocks away, and now shuffled his way between empty crates, canisters and stacks of wooden pallets for the fork trucks. The chill wind rolling over the ocean water left a tang of salt hanging in scent of the air. He moved cautiously like a cat stalking prey.
He posts up next to a small terracotta brick wall lending him a panoramic view of the entire operation. Gats and Guisseppe were both present, ordering around young hired help. They were bringing in weapons by boat that were manufactured farther down the coastline. "Perhaps Boston." Buddy Raymond, a fellow detective had figured. Buddy was still fresh into the Force and thus naive in a lot of things, but Hood liked his moxie anyways and would often shoot information back and forth with him during downtime.
Everything was right on schedule, and then began to go horribly wrong.
He heard the telltale click-click of a revolver round being readied as he felt the cold tip carbon steel barrel of a gun barrel being pressed into the his hair.
Betrayed.
Donovan Hood was so cocksure of himself that he never figured the tip offs as plants. He had run headlong blindly into a trap.
"Stand up," the thug ordered him loudly, and he slowly began to rise from his crouch behind the wall. In the distance Gats and Alley Cat heard the commotion and spun about on their heels, grinning. Everything had to gone to plan alright. Their plan.
Hood whirled around quickly before the other men could approach and put him at even larger disadvantage, a struggle for the thug's firearm ensued as the two fell to the wooden dock planks obscured from the view of the two notorious mobsters. The kid had to be no more than nineteen, still too green and proud of his accomplishment in capturing Donovan and what it meant to his career in crime that he wasn't prepared for the bigger man's quick movements.
On the ground he was no match for Donovan's superior skill and size and with corded muscles and a lifetime of experience the grapple was over quickly and he snuffed out the youngin's life with a bang
He quickly scrambled back to his feet and was propping his newly acquired firearm over the top of the wall when a slug ripped through the flesh of shoulder, shattering the bones on impact. The force of the bullet sent him spinning backwards out of view, his body slumped and wracked with pain. And after a few breaths.. he tumbled into the darkness of unconsciousness.
Malone and Guisseppe put two more bullets into his stomach before tossing his body and that of the young gun-for-hire from the docks, and they splashed into the water.
Hood woke momentarily as his body hit the waves below, coughing up blood into the ocean only to be replaced in his lungs with a mouth full of the salty liquid. He was consigned that this was his death, that his story was over, when strong arms wrapped around him and easily hoisted him from what was surely to be a bedrock grave.
The vampire was a scavenger, she hated the thought of drinking the blood of a human and often kept to docks, searching for rats and other small creatures that made their way in with the goods on the boats. This time she made an exception, an excuse only to herself because this man was surely dead anyways. Just a little bit , she justified in her own mind, and she slowly sank her teeth into his flesh.
That night, Donovan Hood became a vampire.
Fears:Fire. Sun.
Strengths:Uncanny speed and strength. Enhanced senses. Regeneration. Immortal. Control of shadow and darkness, able to harmlessly move it or brandish it as if it were solid [make simple weapons, tendrils, etc.] Looking into a victims eyes he can exert varying degrees of mental control and suggestion depending on the willpower of the victim.
Weaknesses: Sun, fire, supernatural spells and items, teeth and claws of the supernatural all cause damage that takes much longer to heal than normal wounds, and can be incapacitated and killed by them. Has to feed to maintain strength. Casts no reflection.
APPEARANCE
Facial Appearance:Well kept red hair, blue eyes, rounded facial features, cheeks dimple when he smiles.
Clothing: Various styles of suits.
Build: Average size, but athletic, a reflection of his profession in life. 5'11" 175lbs.
Marks/Scars:Scar from a bullet wound in his left shoulder and two in his stomach from his mortal life.
Role play Sample:See History.
Birth Name: Donovan Hood.
Nick Name:The White Devil.
Race: Vampire.
Age: Appears late 20s, [117 actual.]
Gender:Male.
Occupation: An American link to the third largest Hispanic Cartel [Juarez Cartel] attempting to gain foothold in the American West and Border states. Assassinations, drug and weapons tracking, owns several 'safe houses' in the area rented by Cartel leaders for young Mexican Sicarios and other henchmen.
Income: Nearly 100k weekly.
Birthplace:New York.
Current Location:San Diego.
Family Relations:None of note, children and grand children of his cousins have small families on the East Coast that are his only living family, though he's long detached himself from them.
Weapon: .38 Special Colt Revolver, but most any can be acquired through connections.
Other Items Owned:Properties; living quarters and warehouses through San Diego and other metropolitan areas of the far south west. An apartment in New York.
BACKGROUND
Personality:He has become callous and cold from all he's seen in life and again in the world that followed. Most emotions are feigned but seem genuine. He is very calculating and is often the study of the bahaviors of those around him, lessons from his detective past.
Detailed History:
1924. New York City. It was an autumn night, and although it wasn't especially cold, the random breeze passing through the city streets had a chilly bite against the skin of Donovan's cheeks. Blood rushed to them giving them a rosy hue barely visible under the incandescence of the moon.
He was on the hunt tonight, perhaps the most ambitious of his career, a move that might give his superiors a reinforced resolve to promote him to the newly vacant Captain position. The plan was take down Alley Cat Guisseppe and Gats Malone, two mobsters that have given the entire department fits for the last two years. Everyone knew Donovan was possibly the best, and this would cement the claims.
Hood had done his research little by little over the last few weeks, checking and rechecking sources and informants and shaking down known thugs with promises of jail time. He had moved the operation along a little quicker than he normally would, but visions of grandeur in a new promotion to Captain lit a fire under him. Lately he could hardly sleep more than a couple hours. Everything was to come together on this night.
He approached the docks on foot, having parked his car a few blocks away, and now shuffled his way between empty crates, canisters and stacks of wooden pallets for the fork trucks. The chill wind rolling over the ocean water left a tang of salt hanging in scent of the air. He moved cautiously like a cat stalking prey.
He posts up next to a small terracotta brick wall lending him a panoramic view of the entire operation. Gats and Guisseppe were both present, ordering around young hired help. They were bringing in weapons by boat that were manufactured farther down the coastline. "Perhaps Boston." Buddy Raymond, a fellow detective had figured. Buddy was still fresh into the Force and thus naive in a lot of things, but Hood liked his moxie anyways and would often shoot information back and forth with him during downtime.
Everything was right on schedule, and then began to go horribly wrong.
He heard the telltale click-click of a revolver round being readied as he felt the cold tip carbon steel barrel of a gun barrel being pressed into the his hair.
Betrayed.
Donovan Hood was so cocksure of himself that he never figured the tip offs as plants. He had run headlong blindly into a trap.
"Stand up," the thug ordered him loudly, and he slowly began to rise from his crouch behind the wall. In the distance Gats and Alley Cat heard the commotion and spun about on their heels, grinning. Everything had to gone to plan alright. Their plan.
Hood whirled around quickly before the other men could approach and put him at even larger disadvantage, a struggle for the thug's firearm ensued as the two fell to the wooden dock planks obscured from the view of the two notorious mobsters. The kid had to be no more than nineteen, still too green and proud of his accomplishment in capturing Donovan and what it meant to his career in crime that he wasn't prepared for the bigger man's quick movements.
On the ground he was no match for Donovan's superior skill and size and with corded muscles and a lifetime of experience the grapple was over quickly and he snuffed out the youngin's life with a bang
He quickly scrambled back to his feet and was propping his newly acquired firearm over the top of the wall when a slug ripped through the flesh of shoulder, shattering the bones on impact. The force of the bullet sent him spinning backwards out of view, his body slumped and wracked with pain. And after a few breaths.. he tumbled into the darkness of unconsciousness.
Malone and Guisseppe put two more bullets into his stomach before tossing his body and that of the young gun-for-hire from the docks, and they splashed into the water.
Hood woke momentarily as his body hit the waves below, coughing up blood into the ocean only to be replaced in his lungs with a mouth full of the salty liquid. He was consigned that this was his death, that his story was over, when strong arms wrapped around him and easily hoisted him from what was surely to be a bedrock grave.
The vampire was a scavenger, she hated the thought of drinking the blood of a human and often kept to docks, searching for rats and other small creatures that made their way in with the goods on the boats. This time she made an exception, an excuse only to herself because this man was surely dead anyways. Just a little bit , she justified in her own mind, and she slowly sank her teeth into his flesh.
That night, Donovan Hood became a vampire.
Fears:Fire. Sun.
Strengths:Uncanny speed and strength. Enhanced senses. Regeneration. Immortal. Control of shadow and darkness, able to harmlessly move it or brandish it as if it were solid [make simple weapons, tendrils, etc.] Looking into a victims eyes he can exert varying degrees of mental control and suggestion depending on the willpower of the victim.
Weaknesses: Sun, fire, supernatural spells and items, teeth and claws of the supernatural all cause damage that takes much longer to heal than normal wounds, and can be incapacitated and killed by them. Has to feed to maintain strength. Casts no reflection.
APPEARANCE
Facial Appearance:Well kept red hair, blue eyes, rounded facial features, cheeks dimple when he smiles.
Clothing: Various styles of suits.
Build: Average size, but athletic, a reflection of his profession in life. 5'11" 175lbs.
Marks/Scars:Scar from a bullet wound in his left shoulder and two in his stomach from his mortal life.
Role play Sample:See History.
