Post by Kali Caldarelli on May 3, 2012 4:06:02 GMT -5
GENERAL
Birth Name:
Katherine Rae Caldarelli
Race:
Human
Age:
27
Gender:
Female
Occupation:
Investigative Journalist
Birthplace:
Hartford, Connecticut
Current Location:
Athens
Family Relations:
Mother and Father, retired, currently living in their homestead in Hartford
Weapon:
A Tazer aquired via less than legal means
Other Items Owned:
A well used Mac-mini that she carries in a side-satchel at all times.
BACKGROUND
Personality:
Adventurous, inquisitive, perhaps bordering on nosey. Kind-hearted, but with very little tolerance for bullshit.
Detailed History:
Katherine decided two things at a very young age. One, that Katherine sounded much too... old. That name couldn't possibly describe her. This is why that since perhaps kindergarten she had insisted upon being called Kali, a name which she felt aptly described who she was as a person. Fun loving, adventurous, and perhaps a bit unconventional. The second thing she decided, though perhaps a little later than kindergarden was that she wanted to be a writer. First she fell in love with children's stories, full of princesses being saved by brave knights with shiny armor fighting dragons with razor-sharp scales and breath of all-consuming fire. Tales of wizards, zombies, ninjas, ghosts, vampires and werewolves, they all fascinated her. So she decided that she would write them. She was in love with all of the mysteries of the world, and she wanted to bring these mysteries to light for children of all ages.Unfortunately, as time went on, the same happened to her child-like naivity and eagerness as any other teenagers. It quickly turned to cynicism. It had been her tenth grade english teacher that destroyed any notions of becoming a renowned author. She wasn't entirely sure if he was speaking from the experience of his own failures to make it into the world of prose and pagaentry, or if he was just an jaded old shit who fed off of dashing the hopes and dreams of impressionable youth. Regardless, after she graduated highschool, she accepted the fact that very few were destined for the Nebula, the Hugo, or the Pulitzer. So she worked her way into the next best, achieveable proffession. Journalism.
Suprisingly enough, journalism may have been her calling all along. It was everything she wanted to do with her life. She was slowly but surely showing society all of going-ons that it hadn't seen. She was literally being paid to go on adventures, and then write stories about them for all the... slightly older now, she supposed, children to digest for their own entertainment. Of course, that's how she thought it would work out. But as a new face in a souless money making industry such as it was, her life started to look more and more like The Devil Wears Prada with less attractive actors, and no camera. It seemed that all the editor's wanted from her was gossip, clothes, makeup, celebrity blunders... shit. So at the age of 23, she decided to leave her current job and strike out on a solo career. For months she did nothing but scan local newspapers and blogs for something that seemed worth investigating... and eventually, she found it. It started with a teenager from Western New York who disappeared from his home town without a trace. Around that very same time, there were several incidents of seemingly random, violent murders. The bodies of the victims came in two varieties; those bodies which had been mauled, lacerated, and ravaged beyond recognition, and those bodies which appeared pale, almost immaculately undamaged... yet completely drained of blood. After a weeks investigation of the area, the murders and disappearances at first seemed to die out, and for a while, the trail had gone cold. Fortunately, Kali kept her eyes and ears open, and sure enough, unexplanable events began springing up all over the area again. It was the same as before, murders and disappearances, with occational sightings of men and women thought to have died or disappeared years prior. At first, she simply accredited the deeds to a serial killer that would make her career once apprehended and exposed by none other than herself. But then she began to notice a chilling pattern in the reports from alleged eye witnesses. Though none of her sources had ever been close enough to the victims to make out faces or details, each story had the same bits and pieces that she was horrified to put together as the truth. Full moons, wolves howling in the night, large creatures that seemed to be watching from the darkness, a run down factory that was owned by no one and spoken of only in whispers. All of these stories led to the same conclusion, and to the same missing man, a teen that had once disappeared without a trace many years ago.
Gathering all of her courage and a digital camera, she staked out the building for weeks, continuously reassuring herself that she was a master of reconnaissance. But just as she thought that soon she would have enough evidence to prove what she knew was no longer a fairy tale, her mark set off from his mysterious abode alone, and uncharacteristically, in a vehicle. She had seen him leave the premise on several occations on foot, but never in a vehicle. Deciding that this may be of interest, she quickly ran down the street to her own car, setting off in the direction the man had left. Soon enough, she had caught up to him, and she followed behind, making sure not to get close enough as to arouse suspicion. The drive took them out of the city proper and onto Route 33 for a brief moment before he pulled into the long term parking facility at Buffalo International Airport. She followed suite, made her way into the airport and through security, ever vigilantly stalking him to his gate. Once there, she decided that she had come too far not to pursue what could be her only chance at making it into the big time. Drawing upon all of her experience with the theatre department, she summoned forth a monsoon of tears, shouting at the top of her lungs about how her husband was going to be going under the knife for his heart transplant, how the airline had overbooked the flight. It took nearly all of her willpower to supress a wicked grin when another woman who had been standing nearby offered her ticket. Soon enough the mysterious blonde man would land in Europe, with Kali in tow. The story would not escape her, not after coming this far.
Fears:
Paper cuts, giving blood, and bengal tigers.
Strengths:
Clever, dilligent, and a relatively fast runner.
Weaknesses:
A bit of a neat freak, a perfectionist, and sometimes a bit too judgemental of others.
Likes:
Chocolate, a good book, and warm rainy days.
Dislikes:
Country music, pretentious individuals, and nutella.
APPEARANCE
Facial Appearance:
See banner
Clothing:
Finds herself in business attire more often than she would like, prefering instead more casual clothing (and footwear) than is expected from a journalist in her position.
Build:
5'6", lean build. She's in relatively good shape as even after moving on from highschool track, she still runs on a daily basis to keep her cardio up to snuff.
Marks/Scars:
None to speak of.
Birth Name:
Katherine Rae Caldarelli
Race:
Human
Age:
27
Gender:
Female
Occupation:
Investigative Journalist
Birthplace:
Hartford, Connecticut
Current Location:
Athens
Family Relations:
Mother and Father, retired, currently living in their homestead in Hartford
Weapon:
A Tazer aquired via less than legal means
Other Items Owned:
A well used Mac-mini that she carries in a side-satchel at all times.
BACKGROUND
Personality:
Adventurous, inquisitive, perhaps bordering on nosey. Kind-hearted, but with very little tolerance for bullshit.
Detailed History:
Katherine decided two things at a very young age. One, that Katherine sounded much too... old. That name couldn't possibly describe her. This is why that since perhaps kindergarten she had insisted upon being called Kali, a name which she felt aptly described who she was as a person. Fun loving, adventurous, and perhaps a bit unconventional. The second thing she decided, though perhaps a little later than kindergarden was that she wanted to be a writer. First she fell in love with children's stories, full of princesses being saved by brave knights with shiny armor fighting dragons with razor-sharp scales and breath of all-consuming fire. Tales of wizards, zombies, ninjas, ghosts, vampires and werewolves, they all fascinated her. So she decided that she would write them. She was in love with all of the mysteries of the world, and she wanted to bring these mysteries to light for children of all ages.Unfortunately, as time went on, the same happened to her child-like naivity and eagerness as any other teenagers. It quickly turned to cynicism. It had been her tenth grade english teacher that destroyed any notions of becoming a renowned author. She wasn't entirely sure if he was speaking from the experience of his own failures to make it into the world of prose and pagaentry, or if he was just an jaded old shit who fed off of dashing the hopes and dreams of impressionable youth. Regardless, after she graduated highschool, she accepted the fact that very few were destined for the Nebula, the Hugo, or the Pulitzer. So she worked her way into the next best, achieveable proffession. Journalism.
Suprisingly enough, journalism may have been her calling all along. It was everything she wanted to do with her life. She was slowly but surely showing society all of going-ons that it hadn't seen. She was literally being paid to go on adventures, and then write stories about them for all the... slightly older now, she supposed, children to digest for their own entertainment. Of course, that's how she thought it would work out. But as a new face in a souless money making industry such as it was, her life started to look more and more like The Devil Wears Prada with less attractive actors, and no camera. It seemed that all the editor's wanted from her was gossip, clothes, makeup, celebrity blunders... shit. So at the age of 23, she decided to leave her current job and strike out on a solo career. For months she did nothing but scan local newspapers and blogs for something that seemed worth investigating... and eventually, she found it. It started with a teenager from Western New York who disappeared from his home town without a trace. Around that very same time, there were several incidents of seemingly random, violent murders. The bodies of the victims came in two varieties; those bodies which had been mauled, lacerated, and ravaged beyond recognition, and those bodies which appeared pale, almost immaculately undamaged... yet completely drained of blood. After a weeks investigation of the area, the murders and disappearances at first seemed to die out, and for a while, the trail had gone cold. Fortunately, Kali kept her eyes and ears open, and sure enough, unexplanable events began springing up all over the area again. It was the same as before, murders and disappearances, with occational sightings of men and women thought to have died or disappeared years prior. At first, she simply accredited the deeds to a serial killer that would make her career once apprehended and exposed by none other than herself. But then she began to notice a chilling pattern in the reports from alleged eye witnesses. Though none of her sources had ever been close enough to the victims to make out faces or details, each story had the same bits and pieces that she was horrified to put together as the truth. Full moons, wolves howling in the night, large creatures that seemed to be watching from the darkness, a run down factory that was owned by no one and spoken of only in whispers. All of these stories led to the same conclusion, and to the same missing man, a teen that had once disappeared without a trace many years ago.
Gathering all of her courage and a digital camera, she staked out the building for weeks, continuously reassuring herself that she was a master of reconnaissance. But just as she thought that soon she would have enough evidence to prove what she knew was no longer a fairy tale, her mark set off from his mysterious abode alone, and uncharacteristically, in a vehicle. She had seen him leave the premise on several occations on foot, but never in a vehicle. Deciding that this may be of interest, she quickly ran down the street to her own car, setting off in the direction the man had left. Soon enough, she had caught up to him, and she followed behind, making sure not to get close enough as to arouse suspicion. The drive took them out of the city proper and onto Route 33 for a brief moment before he pulled into the long term parking facility at Buffalo International Airport. She followed suite, made her way into the airport and through security, ever vigilantly stalking him to his gate. Once there, she decided that she had come too far not to pursue what could be her only chance at making it into the big time. Drawing upon all of her experience with the theatre department, she summoned forth a monsoon of tears, shouting at the top of her lungs about how her husband was going to be going under the knife for his heart transplant, how the airline had overbooked the flight. It took nearly all of her willpower to supress a wicked grin when another woman who had been standing nearby offered her ticket. Soon enough the mysterious blonde man would land in Europe, with Kali in tow. The story would not escape her, not after coming this far.
Fears:
Paper cuts, giving blood, and bengal tigers.
Strengths:
Clever, dilligent, and a relatively fast runner.
Weaknesses:
A bit of a neat freak, a perfectionist, and sometimes a bit too judgemental of others.
Likes:
Chocolate, a good book, and warm rainy days.
Dislikes:
Country music, pretentious individuals, and nutella.
APPEARANCE
Facial Appearance:
See banner
Clothing:
Finds herself in business attire more often than she would like, prefering instead more casual clothing (and footwear) than is expected from a journalist in her position.
Build:
5'6", lean build. She's in relatively good shape as even after moving on from highschool track, she still runs on a daily basis to keep her cardio up to snuff.
Marks/Scars:
None to speak of.
