Post by Aubin on Mar 30, 2007 4:38:51 GMT -5
Name: Aubin
Age: 631
Age At Changing: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Vampyr
Affilation: Aurillian
Occupation: Artist & Smuggler/Pirate
Physical Description: At 6’1” and possessed of a solid, muscular build, Aubin is in appearance deceptively forbidding. His facial features are generally broad and not particularly distinctive. His eyes, which have a tendency to betray both his emotions and his softer side even when he would prefer to hide either category, are blue. His hair is brown and worn in a short, neat style that is, like the rest of him, attractive but indistinctive. His body carries no marks or scars of particular importance and he bears no body alterations of any variety.
Note: When transformed, Aubin usually takes on the form of a standard red fox.
Personality and Temperament: Generally quiet, reserved, and decidedly private, Aubin is not a man who is easy to get to know. He speaks little of his own past and seems generally disinterested in the pasts of other people, a trait that is perhaps a by-product of his need-to-know, just-do-it-and-stop-asking-questions perspective on “life” (such as it). Happiest when left to the privacy of his art, Aubin seems to generally not need the society of others, Vampyr or Human, although he is in no way actually adverse to such company and can be found fairly regularly in social watering holes that provide copious amounts of liquor at a minimal charge.
Unlike many of his breed, Aubin is not a fighter and takes no pleasure in physical conflict or competition. If forced into a fight, Aubin can and will defend himself, although he will almost always choose escape if it an option. Aubin is decidedly more studious than his Brudjan counterparts preferring instead to fully embrace the world of art and thought that his own faction, the Aurillians, promote. That being said Aubin has about as much patience for the conniving nature of politics as he does for physical brawls, that is to say, of course, none. Perhaps because of his inherent distrust and dislike of politicians (or perhaps because he is, on a very basic level, sometimes difficult simply because he can be so) Aubin has devoted much of his considerable store of loyalty to the Queen rather than a politician or power broker of the usual stripe.
History: Made a Vampyr by Autor’s hand, Aubin was among the first Aurillian Vampyrs to rise with the Spring thaw following the Great Plague. Prior to his change/death Aubin had been an artist, primarily a creator of paintings, a profession he elected to continue in his second life. As his vampyr capabilities increased and strengthened with age, Aubin’s art took on an increasingly political/historical bent and much of his past 600 or so years has been spent perfecting his understanding of ancient languages and symbols, all of which are eventually incorporated into his art.
At the time of change/death Aubin had neither a spouse nor children and the fate of his parents, whatever it might have been, is remembered only by Aubin himself and never repeated. For reasons unknown, Aubin has made no attempts to rectify his lack of family ties through either marriage or the reproduction of his species. Friends and associates have commented throughout the years that Aubin’s refusal to attempt to form a family unit is a form of defiance against his immortal, vampyr state which Aubin seems to neither appreciate nor particularly want.
In addition to working as an artist, Aubin currently supplements his income by moving a small but persistent stream of illicit goods between the Humans and either Vampyr faction. Perhaps because he staunchly (even famously) refuses to transport, fence, or resell goods that are dangerous (as opposed to simply rare, expensive, or mostly harmless) Aubin has as of yet never been arrested or had his business officially enquired into despite being a fairly well known smuggler.
AP Sheet:
Total AP Points: 32 AP
Physical Superiority:
[X][X][ ][ ][ ]
Camouflage:
[X][X][X][X][ ]
Healing:
[X][X][ ][ ][ ]
Precognition:
[X][X][X][X][X]
Telepathy:
[X][X][X][X][X]
Transformation:
[X][X][X][X][ ]
Flying:
[ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
Language Barrier:
[X][X][X][X][X]
Mind Control:
[ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
Touch Memory:
[X][X][X][X][X]
NPC's:
Aubin has a series of as-of-yet unnamed NPCs who fill the roles of his friends, acquaintances, and buyers. He does not have any named Human NPCs of the host variety as Aubin prefers to not know his meals on any intimate level, including knowing their names. Aubin’s agent is a male Aurrilian Vampyr (non-Original Vampyr) named Illiam.
Sample Character RP:
Aubin had sensed Illiam’s arrival on his street almost before the younger Vampyr had actually turned the corner and set foot to pavement. Without moving from his position (which happened to be a half sprawl across the broad table in the kitchen that Aubin, for obvious reasons, never used for any culinary purposes) the artist tracked the agents’ progress through the milling crowds and down the street. Once Illiam had arrived at correct address, Aubin tracked his progress up the stairs that for reasons never fully explained were affixed to the buildings exterior rather than hidden in an interior hallway. At last, with a faint jingle of keys, Illiam entered the flat itself, immediately filling the space with his particular scent which Aubin was never entirely sure was actual a smell so much as a mental impression of a smell.
The door locked automatically as it shut behind Illiam, but still Aubin did not move. Instead he listened in silence to Illiam’s footfalls as the young agent(well, young comparatively, in as much as the undead could be young at all, reflected Aubin) moved around the studio just beyond the kitchen. It took no effort on Aubin’s part to sense Illiam’s approval of his most recent efforts, which said more to Illiam’s at least momentary unguarded state of mind than Aubin’s ability to read the thoughts of others. Companionable silence reigned as Illiam in one room calculated how much each painting was likely to fetch and Aubin, lifting the numbers with ease from Illiam’s stream of consciousness, calculated how much ale and blood he could buy from the next room over.
The calculations eventually finished, Illiam joined Aubin in the kitchen without bothering to wait for an invitation. A single glance at Aubin’s prone figure was all it took for Illiam to deduce that Aubin was in one of his moods which, after four hundred years worth of performances, simply failed to impress. Crossing over to the table, Illiam pushed the glass and bottle of scotch that Aubin had been sprawled with out of reach and ran a hand down the artist’s back, tracing his spine in a gesture that he perfectly well knew equally soothed and disconcerted. Aubin for his part bore the caress for a minute or so then slid back into chair, allowing Illiam’s hand to drag across his back once more before coming to rest on his, Aubin’s, neck. The two Vampyr’s remained in companionable silence for some time (there was no need for talking , Aubin reflected, everything that they could possibly say to each other had surely been said in the first two hundred years of their friendship) before they wordlessly came to some unspoken shared conclusion.
“I’ll get your coat,” offered Illiam, moving promptly away to fetch the nicest of Aubin’s jackets least the artist attempt to be perverse and select his rattiest, most-inappropriate-for-meeting-potential-buyers-jacket, “it will only take an hour, two at the most.”
Aubin sighed, nodding, and rose to his feet. In the silence that had occurred previously the two men had, after some fuss on Aubin’s part, agreed to attend a social event being held that evening at the home of one of Aubin’s best customers. Making an appearance at the event would guarantee at least one sell, the two had telepathically agreed, if not several. Shrugging on the coat that Illiam offered, Aubin headed to the door followed Illiam who, though he said nothing human ears could hear, was nonetheless holding forth a great and strident conversation of the telepathic variety.
“Nothing ever changes,” muttered Aubin abruptly as the two stepped onto the street.
At his side Illiam smiled and patted Aubin’s arm. “Why would you want it to?” he asked.
Age: 631
Age At Changing: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Vampyr
Affilation: Aurillian
Occupation: Artist & Smuggler/Pirate
Physical Description: At 6’1” and possessed of a solid, muscular build, Aubin is in appearance deceptively forbidding. His facial features are generally broad and not particularly distinctive. His eyes, which have a tendency to betray both his emotions and his softer side even when he would prefer to hide either category, are blue. His hair is brown and worn in a short, neat style that is, like the rest of him, attractive but indistinctive. His body carries no marks or scars of particular importance and he bears no body alterations of any variety.
Note: When transformed, Aubin usually takes on the form of a standard red fox.
Personality and Temperament: Generally quiet, reserved, and decidedly private, Aubin is not a man who is easy to get to know. He speaks little of his own past and seems generally disinterested in the pasts of other people, a trait that is perhaps a by-product of his need-to-know, just-do-it-and-stop-asking-questions perspective on “life” (such as it). Happiest when left to the privacy of his art, Aubin seems to generally not need the society of others, Vampyr or Human, although he is in no way actually adverse to such company and can be found fairly regularly in social watering holes that provide copious amounts of liquor at a minimal charge.
Unlike many of his breed, Aubin is not a fighter and takes no pleasure in physical conflict or competition. If forced into a fight, Aubin can and will defend himself, although he will almost always choose escape if it an option. Aubin is decidedly more studious than his Brudjan counterparts preferring instead to fully embrace the world of art and thought that his own faction, the Aurillians, promote. That being said Aubin has about as much patience for the conniving nature of politics as he does for physical brawls, that is to say, of course, none. Perhaps because of his inherent distrust and dislike of politicians (or perhaps because he is, on a very basic level, sometimes difficult simply because he can be so) Aubin has devoted much of his considerable store of loyalty to the Queen rather than a politician or power broker of the usual stripe.
History: Made a Vampyr by Autor’s hand, Aubin was among the first Aurillian Vampyrs to rise with the Spring thaw following the Great Plague. Prior to his change/death Aubin had been an artist, primarily a creator of paintings, a profession he elected to continue in his second life. As his vampyr capabilities increased and strengthened with age, Aubin’s art took on an increasingly political/historical bent and much of his past 600 or so years has been spent perfecting his understanding of ancient languages and symbols, all of which are eventually incorporated into his art.
At the time of change/death Aubin had neither a spouse nor children and the fate of his parents, whatever it might have been, is remembered only by Aubin himself and never repeated. For reasons unknown, Aubin has made no attempts to rectify his lack of family ties through either marriage or the reproduction of his species. Friends and associates have commented throughout the years that Aubin’s refusal to attempt to form a family unit is a form of defiance against his immortal, vampyr state which Aubin seems to neither appreciate nor particularly want.
In addition to working as an artist, Aubin currently supplements his income by moving a small but persistent stream of illicit goods between the Humans and either Vampyr faction. Perhaps because he staunchly (even famously) refuses to transport, fence, or resell goods that are dangerous (as opposed to simply rare, expensive, or mostly harmless) Aubin has as of yet never been arrested or had his business officially enquired into despite being a fairly well known smuggler.
AP Sheet:
Total AP Points: 32 AP
Physical Superiority:
[X][X][ ][ ][ ]
Camouflage:
[X][X][X][X][ ]
Healing:
[X][X][ ][ ][ ]
Precognition:
[X][X][X][X][X]
Telepathy:
[X][X][X][X][X]
Transformation:
[X][X][X][X][ ]
Flying:
[ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
Language Barrier:
[X][X][X][X][X]
Mind Control:
[ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
Touch Memory:
[X][X][X][X][X]
NPC's:
Aubin has a series of as-of-yet unnamed NPCs who fill the roles of his friends, acquaintances, and buyers. He does not have any named Human NPCs of the host variety as Aubin prefers to not know his meals on any intimate level, including knowing their names. Aubin’s agent is a male Aurrilian Vampyr (non-Original Vampyr) named Illiam.
Sample Character RP:
Aubin had sensed Illiam’s arrival on his street almost before the younger Vampyr had actually turned the corner and set foot to pavement. Without moving from his position (which happened to be a half sprawl across the broad table in the kitchen that Aubin, for obvious reasons, never used for any culinary purposes) the artist tracked the agents’ progress through the milling crowds and down the street. Once Illiam had arrived at correct address, Aubin tracked his progress up the stairs that for reasons never fully explained were affixed to the buildings exterior rather than hidden in an interior hallway. At last, with a faint jingle of keys, Illiam entered the flat itself, immediately filling the space with his particular scent which Aubin was never entirely sure was actual a smell so much as a mental impression of a smell.
The door locked automatically as it shut behind Illiam, but still Aubin did not move. Instead he listened in silence to Illiam’s footfalls as the young agent(well, young comparatively, in as much as the undead could be young at all, reflected Aubin) moved around the studio just beyond the kitchen. It took no effort on Aubin’s part to sense Illiam’s approval of his most recent efforts, which said more to Illiam’s at least momentary unguarded state of mind than Aubin’s ability to read the thoughts of others. Companionable silence reigned as Illiam in one room calculated how much each painting was likely to fetch and Aubin, lifting the numbers with ease from Illiam’s stream of consciousness, calculated how much ale and blood he could buy from the next room over.
The calculations eventually finished, Illiam joined Aubin in the kitchen without bothering to wait for an invitation. A single glance at Aubin’s prone figure was all it took for Illiam to deduce that Aubin was in one of his moods which, after four hundred years worth of performances, simply failed to impress. Crossing over to the table, Illiam pushed the glass and bottle of scotch that Aubin had been sprawled with out of reach and ran a hand down the artist’s back, tracing his spine in a gesture that he perfectly well knew equally soothed and disconcerted. Aubin for his part bore the caress for a minute or so then slid back into chair, allowing Illiam’s hand to drag across his back once more before coming to rest on his, Aubin’s, neck. The two Vampyr’s remained in companionable silence for some time (there was no need for talking , Aubin reflected, everything that they could possibly say to each other had surely been said in the first two hundred years of their friendship) before they wordlessly came to some unspoken shared conclusion.
“I’ll get your coat,” offered Illiam, moving promptly away to fetch the nicest of Aubin’s jackets least the artist attempt to be perverse and select his rattiest, most-inappropriate-for-meeting-potential-buyers-jacket, “it will only take an hour, two at the most.”
Aubin sighed, nodding, and rose to his feet. In the silence that had occurred previously the two men had, after some fuss on Aubin’s part, agreed to attend a social event being held that evening at the home of one of Aubin’s best customers. Making an appearance at the event would guarantee at least one sell, the two had telepathically agreed, if not several. Shrugging on the coat that Illiam offered, Aubin headed to the door followed Illiam who, though he said nothing human ears could hear, was nonetheless holding forth a great and strident conversation of the telepathic variety.
“Nothing ever changes,” muttered Aubin abruptly as the two stepped onto the street.
At his side Illiam smiled and patted Aubin’s arm. “Why would you want it to?” he asked.
