This is the first bio I've submitted to a board and they accepted it!
I put in a request for some plottage and soon I'll be able to RP =]
full name» Fionnlagh Allaway
nickname/alias» Fionn
birth date» 5 August 1989
age» 20
occupation» Private Courier/Driver
sexuality» Heterosexual
race» Werewolf
species» Tundra Wolf (Canis lupus albus)
affiliation» Knight Pack
position» Newcomer
born/converted» Converted: age 19
likes»· Travel – his job demands it
· His car – a five door Ford Focus Studio Estate (Metallic Red)
· Reading
· Listening to music
· Long drives
· Solitude
· Peppered steak
· Blueberry vodka
· Garlic – lots of garlic
· Spartan rooms
· Walking and jogging – if he isn’t on a job then Fionn prefers the pedestrian route
· Wide, open areas
· His unrestricted freedom
· Plants – he likes to have at least one small houseplant wherever he lives
dislikes»· The cost of fuel
· His global navigation satellite system (Sat Nav) – it always plays silly buggers and turns itself off almost continuously
· Being touched without his permission
· His family
· Most vegetables – unless they’ve been liquidised in a soup, then he has no problem with them
· Eggs – “They’re just nasty.”
· Dirt and mess
· Cages and small spaces
· Large crowds of people
· Being bogged down with material possessions
· People who feel the need to be condescending
fears» · Small, cramped spaces
· Being under the control of others
· Having his freedom taken away
· Being manipulated without his knowledge
· The inevitable breakdown of his car
· Having to buy yet another car
· People depending on him
habits»· Chewing the nails on his little fingers
· Tugging on his left ear when he’s thinking
· When he’s deep in thought he feels the need to clean and polish his car
· Jogging in the small hours of the morning
· Taking up learning an instrument and giving up mere hours later due to frustrated inability
psychological description» Fionnlagh was a very serious child; his youth did not exactly lend itself to fun and games. The brutality his father inflicted upon his mother, and her subsequent depression did not create a warm and loving home for him to grow up in. To avoid the wrath of his father he learned to hide his feelings and cultivated a cold, uncaring expression and bland appearance. He spent as much time out of the house as he could, typically alone. Fionn pretty much took care of himself throughout his childhood; the learning curve was steep but after a few near disastrous incidents with domestic appliances he became almost entirely self-reliant.
In high school Fionnlagh fitted neatly into the ‘loner’ category – and there he was left for six years with only the heavy silence of the school library and the running track for company; it was at this point he developed his passion for books and jogging. He is withdrawn to the point of near invisibility and given the option he prefers to be left to himself. His few years after high school were much the same. His current occupation is well suited to his preference for solitude and longing to travel.
Upon first glance Fionn does not come across as someone who plays well with others, another glance reveals that it is still true on the second go-round. He is initially suspicious of everyone and takes quite some time to warm to any one person. Years of solitude have instilled a belief that he does not really need other people, apart from the rare occasion when he deems it necessary to seek help. He seldom smiles, his thin lips more often found in a frown than anything else, and his heavy brows have perfected the art of knitting together into a glare. It’s not so much that he hates people he just thinks that the things they have to say are usually inane. He has an easily exhaustive reservoir of small talk, which usually dries up in the first five minutes of conversation.
Contrary to popular belief he does have a sense of humour, however introverted it might be. While Fionn does not like violence, he will dirty his hands if he must, though he prefers to walk (or run) from conflict if it arises.
skills/abilities» Self-reliance means that Fionn is used to doing everything for himself and has therefore mastered domestic household tasks, and if it weren’t for his impassive personality then he’d be a housewife’s dream. Any place he chooses to live in is subjected to a storm of cleaning, scrubbing, bleaching and a lick of paint. He is also able to read and absorb large amounts of information quickly, particularly information relating to locations and directions – a skill which is useful when he has a long journey to make and the Sat Nav pitches a fit and leaves him looking at a blank screen.
Fionn loves music but is completely void of any musical talent; while he can’t play anything, he is able to make any instrument he comes across produce a noise similar to that of a musical saw. He also devotes a fair amount of his time to running, preferably cross-country style if he can find a suitable stretch of woodland.
play-by» Travis Fimmel
picture» Travis Fimmel physical description» Fionnlagh’s brows shadow a lovely pair of baby blue’s, which are lined thickly by long lashes and usually have heavy bags underneath them when he doesn’t sleep enough, which is often. His complexion is tanned and for preference he is always clean-shaven, though sometimes he’ll slip and not shave for a few days. Physically, he leans toward slender, but sinewy muscles can be found in his limbs and though it is clear he will never be physically impressive, he is well built. Fionn has nurtured his stamina through extensive track training: sprinting, long distance and cross-country running; this is in part due to his aversion to violence, Fionn is an ardent believer in the “He who runs away lives to fight another day” philosophy. His hands are dexterous and his fingers slender, musicians fingers some would say, though Fionn is devoid of musical talent. Standing at 5’ 9” he can blend easily enough into a crowd, if he was the kind of person who liked crowds; his hair when left to its own devices is blonde and somewhat straight with an odd cow-lick appearing in the morning.
Fionn’s sombre mood is reflected in his clothing: an unvarying basic ensemble, usually consisting of a pair of tattered jeans, a black crew neck t-shirt and a pair of Vans that have seen better days.
Other items in his wardrobe include a handful of white t-shirts and plaid shirts, a hoodie, a pair of safety boots and a beat-up, leather jacket when he needs something warmer in the winter. If he feels the need to dress up, then Fionn has a plain, fitted, man’s dress shirt (the sleeves rolled up to his elbows) and a pair of black slacks.
transformation description» An average-sized man makes for an average-sized Tundra Wolf it seems, as Fionn weighs in at a mediocre 125lbs. He is just under 1.9m in length from his nose to the tip of his 40cm tail, and he stands at around 0.9m at the shoulder. He materialises as grey-furred with a white underbelly and insular coat, legs and facial markings, with a black tail-tip; when he transforms his eyes become a fairly standard yellow-gold. All in all Fionn is a rather unremarkable wolf.
In his hybrid form Fionn gains around 30cm in height; although still thickly furred, his coat is thinner on his chest, stomach and groin. His build becomes rangier as his limbs lengthen, giving his hybrid form a fair turn of speed.
family»· Father – Malcolm (52) [Estranged]
· Mother – Caoimhe (49) [Estranged]
homeland» Dundee, Scotland
history» Parents always manage to imprint something of themselves onto their children. Malcolm Allaway learned one, valuable lesson from his father, a lesson that he remembered for his entire life. This lesson was: women are inferior to you. Malcolm always told the same tale about his life: a sob story about a hard-done-by family struggling to survive in harsh times with little money in terrible conditions. Fionnlagh privately thought that this was a load of bollocks and the only reason his father felt hard done by was the local barmaid always gave him the brush off when he went in for a tipple.
Fortunately for Fionnlagh, who was born on August 5th 1989 in Ninewells Hospital, Malcolm was unable to pass this lesson onto his ‘useless and disappointing’ son. Fionn has always wondered why his mother married Malcolm, and how she had missed the aura of violence he carries around with him like a weapon. Caoimhe was the nurturing parent throughout most of Fionn’s childhood. Gentle and caring by nature, years spent under Malcolm’s thumb turned her into a brittle woman, the laughter in her face and eyes long since diminished. This worsened when his spiteful control of her life descended into outright violence: a lack of dinner on the table when he came home was met with a casual backhand blow to the body. Things drastically deteriorated in the Allaway home when Malcolm discovered this simple base cruelty, which extended to his son upon occasion. However, Malcolm never quite dared to hit his son outright, instead he pushed him into tables and other furniture ‘by accident’. “The lad is always underfoot!” he’d say. Fionn spent his fourth birthday at a local surgery having a nasty lump the size of a goose egg looked at by the doctor. His mother told the doctor he’d walked into a doorframe. Neither of them dared speak out.
Fionn’s life trudged its way into primary school and out again, any progress he made was ignored by his father and quietly praised by his mother. His entry into high school was scarcely remarked upon. He had made no friends like the other children and refused any invitations to parties or days out, for what could he have offered them in return? There was no way he’d have been able to take them to his house, ashamed of his family as he was.
High school was a trial for Fionn, when all he wanted to do was escape his life and start afresh. He knew that after high school he would be free to pursue a life he could live, not a life he could endure. He’d come home from school with the results of his preliminary exams in his third year, full of pride for having achieved top marks in everything, save mathematics where he’d achieved a second, only to find his mother at the table drinking wine from a mug. He was devastated and his mother was casually dismissive, telling him that she’d been a functioning alcoholic for as long as he’d been at school. It was at this point that Fionn felt a distance between his mother and himself, and he realised that although he loved his mother, he was not going to stay and watch his father beat his mother as she steadied herself on a demon in a bottle.
As soon as he was able, Fionn found a part-time job and began squirreling away his money under his mattress; he subsequently took driving lessons in his sixth – and last – year of high school, passing after twelve lessons. Consequently, Fionn moved out of his ‘family’ home and into what he mentally referred to as his ‘shite hole’, a tiny apartment in a mostly unoccupied block of flats the centre of Dundee.
It was then that Fionn began saving his money in earnest, taking any paid job he could find until he was able to buy a serviceable second hand car at the age of eighteen. At first business was slow, for while he had recently passed his driving test, he was still inexperienced on the road but soon word spread and Fionn suddenly found that being a courier was very, very profitable. He bought a much roomier car (a temperamental third-hand Subaru Legacy) while not brand new, it gave him the chance to take on larger jobs and carry more than just small, brown packages. He once ferried a businessman from Inverness to London for an extortionate fee so that the man could make a meeting after his plane was grounded due to bad weather.
Things were going rather well for Fionn at this point, his hard work had paid off and he was financially secure, whilst spending ninety per-cent of his time on the road and ten per-cent of his time resting up in his ‘shite hole’. This bubble of contentment was not to last, however, as things came to a screaming, crashing halt around two months after his nineteenth birthday. Out on a job in the middle of October, Fionn was driving north on a narrow country road to Gairloch with the sun rapidly sinking below the horizon, a retirement present strapped up in the boot of the car, when he hit what he supposed was a deer. It was the only animal he, rationally, thought could be big enough. Luckily, Fionn rolled out of his car with only bruised ribs and a mild concussion; after emptying his belly onto the ground, he gingerly eased himself around the front of the car to inspect the damage. The Subaru was totalled to say the least and the deer had vanished into oblivion. Stuck in the middle of nowhere, Fionn miraculously managed to call 999 on his mobile phone and speak in an understandably vague manner to the operator, who tried to keep him awake while an ambulance was sent to his rescue. At some point during the conversation Fionn was dreamily looking at the surrounding countryside when he became aware of two oddly glowing eyes in the underbrush and a thunderous growl that made the hair on the back of his neck come to attention, even in his less than alert state of mind. The operator’s voice began to squawk through the speakers as Fionn’s silence deepened. A primal notion had taken root in his mind: if you don’t move, it won’t see you. He blinked and the eyes materialised closer. Fionn dropped the phone and whimpered, the high keening sound of someone who is trying to scream while his or her jaw has been fused shut with terror. Eyes pinned open in fright, he watched as the eyes crept closer and closer; when less than ten feet away, the eyes were joined by gleaming teeth and rank, putrid breath. Childishly, Fionn shut his eyes and curled into a ball, wrapping his arms around his head. I can’t see you, you can’t see me! For several heartbeats that felt like hours Fionn dared hope that the beast was gone; he cautiously raised his head a fraction of an inch only to feel terrible pain suddenly blossom in his arms; at the same time, darkness rose to claim him.
Later, doctors would tell Fionn that it had been a dog attack. Fionn thought that this was a bit of a stretch, as he had been in the middle of nowhere but could offer no better explanation. He spent several weeks in hospital for observation, many stitches and a number of blood transfusions – since there was no one to pick him up, they kept in for as long as they could. Once declared fit for release, Fionn made his way back to Dundee and took a week for some rest and relaxation. Despite being released from the hospital in Inverness, he felt weak and ailing. As time progressed he felt better and managed to buy a new car, as he was able to get the insurance company to pay out, a Ford Focus five-door Estate, with which he began taking jobs again. The night of the full moon found Fionn totally oblivious and unaware that it would prove a major turning point in his life. He was grabbing a tumbler of water when the first stab of pain erupted in his chest; the tumbler fell from his hand, shattering into a dozen pieces on the kitchen floor, where he promptly followed it. He screamed as his bones splintered, muscles unravelled, everything changed, grinding and writhing into a new, foreign shape. In his first transformation, Fionn lost all human awareness and rampaged around his flat in a wild rage. Waking up in the wreckage of his home, Fionn had seen enough movies and read enough books to add two and two together and guess what had happened. Despite feeling as though he had lost his mind, he reacted in a logical manner and began to try and track down someone – anyone – who would have information. His haphazard threads of research began to twine together and lead across the great pond and into America. Fionn had never been to America but the idea that he might unintentionally kill an unsuspecting neighbour made his blood run cold. Love people he might not, but he didn’t hate them enough not to try and seek help. Fionn applied for an immigrant visa and was able to successfully emigrate just before his twentieth birthday.
Once stateside, Fionn headed for the place where the majority of his lines of research converged: Muertan, California. After finding an affordable place to live, and work (driving for Bertucci’s Pizza), Fionn began to sift for information, information which eventually lead him to the Knight Family in Blackstone and a request for help.
Bookworm-y Rambles
Satisfied
Cheerful
Hysterical
Triumph
