Out of Character

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hobocop --
23 --
north carolina --
student --
Fri Nov 08, 2013 8:52 am --
Singe 87
Mon Aug 04, 2014 8:36 am
part man. part hobo. all cop. experienced roleplayer looking for a good long-term RP environment for his wolf 'toon

In Character

Male 17 Jun 2012
Wolf Verto
**updated appearance at WIKI PAGE

Decker appears awfully haggard for his age, having wandered about for some months without a pack land to call home. His ragged coat is naturally a very light grey, easily mistaken for white - whether the darker mottled tinges along his fur are due to dust, stress, or just natural coloration, he lost track. His build is somewhat scarce, appearing less than adequately fed, yet far from starving, and his narrow, angular face adds a slight ghastliness to his visage. He’s no brute, but his thin, wiry build has gotten him away from anything that would rather he cease to live – so far, at least. His eyes are a shade of violet that would be captivating, were it not for the dim glint of sheer exhaustion at everything around him that clouded them.

No matter what form he takes, Decker always has a bandana made from some faded red-and-white cloth tied round his neck. He is fully aware of the unlikelihood of it denoting his occupation to others, but it comes in handy every now and then, and he stashes samples of herbs and useful plants in it sometimes (which can vary his scent somewhat, but won’t disguise it), so he hangs onto it.

He is most often seen in Lupus form, standing at just 2’ 8”. He does occasionally assume Optime form (usually due to the urges that come with being a somewhat recent Luperci Verto), in which he still isn’t very impressive – just 5’ 7”.
After his exhausted appearance and ragged old bandana, the first thing one would notice about Decker is his voice: he speaks with a very quick, very dense 'Bostonian' accent, riddled with rhetorical questions and nicknames. It tends to amplify his snark factor.

After suffering a major knock to the head and a massive claw gash in New Dawn's fight to fell the bear that had been stealing their prey and injuring their wolves, a series of unconscious visions has visibly improved and brightened his outlooks on life. His suicidal tendencies have been silenced and the deterioration of his mental state has been mitigated at the least, but he remains a sharp-tongued, motormouthed snarker that isn't afraid to voice his thoughts.

Decker is a prodigiously talented healer, and treats all matters related to healing with cold professionalism. Now no longer willing to throw his life away, he has dedicated it fully to practicing the healing arts, and has zero tolerance for any interruption or interference with the healing process of any of his patients, regardless of relationships, emotions, rank status, or pack affiliation. While initially coming off as a sociopathic jerk, he is fully willing to guard the lives of his patients with his own life.

For all his snarking and teasing, Decker is almost comically inept at developing intimate relationships, having spent all but the last days of his adolescence as a loner constantly on the run. Now that his mind has been cleared, he finds his thoughts turning towards romantic persuasions more often.

Theme - "Lex" by Ratatat
Decker's upbringing was a turbulent one, as his appearance might suggest. In fact, he should have died by now - something he would appreciate at this point - but fate seems to have different plans for him.

The pack he was born into wasn't particularly large or particularly important. They were a band of decent canines working together to help each other survive. It was in this ragtag, somewhat nomadic pack that he first discovered his incredible natural talent for healing. He was an optimistic young spirit, then; there was no injury he couldn't mend. His mere presence seemed to have beneficial health effects. He loved his pack, he loved the world, and above all, he loved life.

Then, just when he'd matured enough to gain some sense, fate began playing its wicked game with Decker's life. The pack fell apart at the seams. Their lack of numbers and organization made them easy prey when they strayed too far into established pack lands. The attackers didn't know they only intended to cross over to neutral territory, nor did they care to. Watching his friends and family decimated before him, Decker discovered his other talent: running. Maybe they couldn't keep up, maybe they were just too busy slaughtering his family, but all Decker knew was that he got away, unscathed save for his mental state.

It only worsened from there. Twice, he found a new pack to reside with, after a long, painful, arduous time as a loner. Twice, he gained new friends and acquaintences, folks to call family. Twice, he regained hope. Twice, his pack was taken from him, once again leaving him not a respected healer, but a wandering stranger with a sharp tongue, fast legs, and a cold heart.

Decker is tired. His every fiber is weary of existence. Every day he wanders he hopes some big brute from some huge pack he's never heard of will jump out and slice his throat for trespassing two steps into their territory, bringing an unceremonious end to the cosmic game that his life has been made into. And at the back of his mind, he knows he'll escape death one more time, further extending his seemingly neverending mission to heal and support a pack that will just disappear from under his paws yet again.

He wanders into Nova Scotia, seeking out his next patients... Or, alternatively, his deathbed.
Deceased or missing.
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