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redcarpet&&rebellion. The RPG Collection
.__T H E black D E M O N__.; A Bloody Pirate
Topic Started: Jun 2 2007, 10:31 AM (280 Views)
Yasha
Unregistered

[size=1][PIRATE]
FINISHED

●»»Out of Character

Name/Alias:
Destiny/Yasha
Age:
Sixteen.
Contact:
AIM: Nelaai
E-mail: Nelaai@aol.com
E-mail: nelaai@yahoo.com
PM

●»» In Character

.__General Info__.
Full Name:
Chris Ebon Bephome
Pirate Name:
Black Demon
Pirate Name Explanation:
Ebon -- Ebony -- Black
Bephome -- Baphomet -- Demon
Age:
Twenty-one
Gender:
Male

.__Appearance__.
Overall Appearance:
Be my bad boy...
Demon, to put it bluntly, is a grease-coated rat. Or that's how some portray him. Women who favor "dangerous" men, so to speak, might favor him. He fits all the classic tales of the boys your mother used to tell you to "stay away from".
Demon is an estimated five foot ten with black, dirty hair oily with grease that reaches his shoulders. It, when closely looked at, appears to be parted to the side. It's difficult to tell. Some slick locks frame his eyes, but the rest just hangs limply around his shoulders. His eyes are a stormy black-gray, and are usually blank of emotion. His eyes can compair quite closely to those of a canine. A coyote, jackal, maybe even a fox. His eyebrows slant somewhat and gives him a cunning, sneering look. A scar is below his right eye.
His nose isn't large and hooking, nor is it particularly petite too where you might look at it curiously. It's just there. Somewhat sharp on his features and blockily built. His mouth, usually curled into his signature scowl, has thin lips and teeth yellowed from tobacco use. His tongue is somewhat abnormally long, and if he were to stick it out, it could reach a bit past his chin. ((My sister has that tongue. >P))
His chin is sharp and his neck thick and slightly muscled. On the left side of his neck is a tattoo of a black canine-like creature with glowing red eyes, marked 'Black Demon' in something that looks like handwriting. Demon's shoulders are wide and squared, and, most often, are slouched. His upper arms are muscled from hours of ship work. Across his left wrist he has a scar that starts and it ends in the center of his palm. His hands are calloused with thick skin, and are, to say the least, rough. His nails are broken and dirty with hang nails or traces of them that have been chewed off.
His chest is knotted with scars and burns. On his breast bone, towards his right shoulder, is an unreadable brand mark. His abs are hard and pressed, again evident of ship-work. If you were to press your hand against his side, you'd just be able to feel rib bones. All this is covered by a white long-sleeves shirt that's torn in multiple places.
His legs are covered by black pants, equipped with a brown belt that holds a pistol, a compass, a sword, and, oddly enough, a grease-clotted comb. Beneath this his legs are fairly toned with a, you guessed it, scar across his left calf.
Hopeful Celebrity:
N/A

Picture:
N/A

Effects:

Pistol
A regular pistol. Nothing special. On average it has about five to six shots in it.

Compass
A compass. Just something to show him the way. On it's face it has a burning ship. Nothing more.

Sword
A broad steel sword with a dark brown handle.

Comb
I suppose that this doesn't count as an effect, but it's on his person all the same. It' also, is nothing special. It's plain blue with grease clotted all over it. He got it twelve years ago, as his father gave it to him indifferently before he left. Not a tooth is broken. Not one.

.__Personality__.
Personality:

Some words that best describe Demon are indifferent, greasy, sly, determined, forceful, bold, and convincing. He always tends to be where fights break out. He rarely turns down a dare- it'd hurt his pride. Most find him hard to. He thinks the worst about people. He rarely makes decisions, as opposed to going along with whatever's flung at him. When pressured, he makes unnecessary decisions.

Demon doesn't have friends as much as he does a posse. Or, in blunter terms, a group of thugs to be his partners in crime and assist him. He's the 'leader' of the pack and will often choose actions of stealing, drinking, vandalism, or fighting. He'd rather communicate with his body than words. Rarely he shows any acts of compassion or caring. If once of his groupies is shot, he shrugs it off and gathers a new one.

Although it's not obvious, Demon is very observing. He himself is disorganized and messy, but he observes others' signals closely. He is dangerously impulsive and has issues with authority. In his mind he has it stated that rules don't apply to him. He cares for no one's rule, be it the captain of the ship or not. Threats don't worry him.

Likes:
Any form of heavy alcohol
Women
To get into fights
Tortuga
Sex ((Sorry, but it's one of the few things on his mind.))
Tobacco

Dislikes:
Being sober
Jackasses that think they can handle him
Port Royal
Going without a smoke for over five hours
Strengths:
He's muscled
Somewhat skilled with a sword
Bold
Indifferent to danger

Weaknesses:
He is, to put it bluntly, an arrogant son of a bitch
He doesn't know when to shut up
He thinks he has no weakness, just others do
Others are flawed, not him (or so he thinks)


.__History__.
Personal History:
His story is one of a basic trailer-park family. His parents always yelled at each other. Always. Until age nine it made him cry in his room. But after many years, he adapted to it and no long cared about it. Let them scream themselves hoarse, or until they die. He didn't care. They didn't care for him and he returned the favor. Contact was kept to a bare minimum. But alas, not all humans are completely solitary and sane at the same time. He started going outside more, meeting up with gangs, joining as a lower rank. Over the months he stayed out later and later. By age nine he was the new leader of his group of eight to twelve year-olds.
His father left two months after Demon's tenth birthday, leaving only an old comb. They, after all, were never bonded. However, although he wouldn't admit it, he was always in somewhat awe of his father, and always kept the comb. Even today, though clotted with grease, not one tooth is broken. Not one.
As he grew, so did his crimes. It started out innocently enough. Throwing rocks at things. Taunting little kids. Freeing all the horses from the stables. Then as he hit the teens it got bigger. scraping cars. Breaking into houses. Stealing stuff. Around adulthood it got to the point to where he was avoiding the law. Realizing this, he slunk off to join the pirates.

[Sucks, sorry]

Family:
Mother (Deceased)
Father (Unknown)

Love Interests on TTC:
As if.

.__Conclusion__.
Any extra information we need to know about?
None that comes to mind.

RP example:
A glass filled with a dark red substance was slammed down on the wooden bar. Or, once filled I should say. The wine glass was emptied in one try. The distasteful wine was foul smelling and tasting, but almost straight alcohol. Again it was refilled.
The greasy male chugged down another glass of the vile liquor. It raised bile in his throat but he ignored it. He was becoming blissfully oblivious to his surroundings. Through many years of drinking, however, it's been taking him longer and longer to get drunk. He was adapting, as much as he didn't like it. He wanted to be drunk. It was the happiest time of the day for him. Fuzzy vision and hang overs didn't bother him much. The memories- real or made up- of what he did during his drunk stages always made him smirk.
A woman brushed passed him and flashed him a seductive smile. Without a change in expression he blinked at her and watched her go by. Obviously he'd have sex tonight. He planned on it. Drunken sex was the greatest pleasure in the world for him. It was reckless and hard and his style. His thin lips twisted into one if his infamous sly smiles.
A growl-like noise rumbled behind him. Annoyed, he turned to face the offender. Before him stood a large male, at least two inches taller than himself. He was bald with a sparse black bear and ear-rings. Mean black eyes stared down into Demon's slightly lighter ones. Breath reeking of hard liquor hit Demon's face in warm breaths, like a winded bull. Demon narrowed his eyes.
What do want? Or are you breathing your rank stench on me just for the hell of it?
Demon vaguely realized his breath probably smelled the same, but it wasn't his breath they were talking about here. It was this guy's. And that made it alright.
If you even look at Sesile again I'll kill you, the man growled through his teeth. The stench grew.
Demon assumed Sesile was the woman whom had smiled at him earlier.
Actually I was planning on having hot sex with her later this evening, Demon said mockingly, truthfully.
The Bull-man's nostril's flared and his eyes acquired white rings. He slammed demon against the wall and the bar went silent.
You want to fight?!
Demon took his sweet time answering. He reached out and took a glass of amber rum sitting on the counter. For a moment he carelessly examined it then chugged it down. Afterwards he looked over the empty glass and placed it back on the table slowly, shrugging.
I'm almost counting on it.
A punch was swung at Demon. He dropped down and slipped out beneath him. As drunk as he was, he knew that it's be much more beneficial to him to end it the easy way. Lazily he considered the pistol against his hip. Why waste his time?
Another punch. Demon snatched a glass with beer and smashed it against Demon's fist. The Bull yowled in pain as glass shards embedded themselves in his hand, alcohol stinging the injuries. Bull was blind with rage now. Many more punches were thrown. Though in blind rage, Demon was drunk and found it harder and harder to dodge. A punch hit him square in the jaws. He took a few steps backward and spit out a dark crimson liquid onto the floor, splattering it with a sick noise. A bruise formed along the crash site. Demon was now thoroughly annoyed though he didn't show it. His shoe shoved itself into the man's stomach, pushing him back into the wall. The Bull glowered and returned, head reeling, mouth parted slightly to reveal some bloody teeth.
Demon dodged warily as a punch went for his throat. The drinks of earlier were catching up with him and he no longer wanted to deal with this. A bulky fist caught him off guard, slamming into his stomach, returning the favor. Demon staggered back, a sick, dull throbbing taking over his stomach. Blood bubbled up from his throat at he spat it out, not too far from where the first blood splash has landed. The man across him was glistening with sweat, making Demon smirk. Annoyed this was still going on, he drew his pistol and cocked it, training it on the Bull's heart. His black eyes widened with fear.
T-that's not fair!
Demon gave a half shrug, indifferent.
Pirate.
((XD Ripped off the movie!))
A shot rang through the bar. The man fell to his knees, eyes glazed. Unsatisfied, Demon turned away.
Pathetic. Not worth my energy, he sneered, putting the gun away. Ruthlessly he raked the bar and picked out Sesile, taking his prized toy for the night. She was afraid. The fight had shaken her. But she obeyed nonetheless, fear or not. It was quite likely that, if she was unwilling to participate, he would rape her.

●»»Confirmation

.__Proof of Plot__.
What is Elizabeth Swann's age?
Seventeen.

.__Proof of Rules__.
The admins on this site are:
SUPER SMEXY! (You know it. x3)

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