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Feb. 14th, 2013 06:55 pmPLAYER NAME Ramen.
PREFERRED METHOD OF CONTACT plurk: socalramen | aim: bubblegumofficer
DO YOU PLAY ANY OTHER CHARACTERS HERE? Holland Manners
---
CHARACTER NAME Matthew Parker.
CHARACTER PERSONAL DETAILS
Matt Parker is a truck driver who's been doing this a long time. He hails from Nebraska originally, but he started driving (as he himself is fond of saying) at his dad's knee. He loves the open road and it shows, although (and he himself admits this) it could show a little less and he could stand to get out of the truck once in awhile. He's the sort of guy who likes a good beer and a good football game. He's got a wife, Marla, and a cute little girl named Jolene.
If you see Matt you might think of him as the sort of person typical of America and yet not. He is a figure on his way out of history. The trucker speeding across the country delivering everything from corn to children's toys. He's a hell of a driver and can drive anything from a semi to a pickup truck to a Zamboni and he's proud of it.
The thing is, Matt's mother's side has some history. Some very specific history and Matt for awhile now has been using this history to his advantage. He is a seer of sorts, the least likely oracle in the history of oracles. He doesn't like to think about it and it's never been anything more then bad weather ahead or call your wife about your daughter so why stress in the long run?
What could possibly come of it?
CHARACTER PERSONALITY
Matt takes everything with a grain of salt, he's calm and collected even in the worst moments. He was raised with a sense that people depend on him on a larger scale. Sure his family and his friends like having him around but he gets those toys to Toys R Us. He gets those mattresses to their stores. He considers himself a sort of superhero, a common man doing right by the world. He'll greet you with a smile even after he's knocked back a few at the Flying J or any of the other truck stops.
That's not to say he doesn't get upset. He does but it takes a concerted effort. He'd rather negotiate then fight, rather offer then try and punch his way out. He's no coward, he simply believes in the fundamental good of everyone he meets. Matt is a rare figure, one unbiased, one who just wants to help. Even his rages are more sad then angry. He's raised his fists in anger and regretted it and the one fight that he considered "making him a man" resulted in him turning himself into the police. Because of this Matt is well liked by nearly everyone that meets him. There isn't a single manipulative bone in his body - which unfortunately makes it easy for him to be manipulated.
Take his wife who's stepping out on him. The little girl he dotes on that isn't even his. The friends that borrow money and never return it. Matt is a man too kind for the world he lives in, and in a world where people are vampires and demons prowl - that's enough to get him killed.
CHARACTER'S CONNECTION TO THE SUPERNATURAL Matt is a seer, due to blood passed down through his family thanks to a combination of a deal gone bad and a drunken one-night stand. It's so diluted however that he gets only brief flashes of things directly pertaining to his life. Bad weather, rain on the road.
Lately he's been getting flashes of his wife in bed with another man and trying to ignore that. He fights it off with driving and caff-shots, pills that help keep him awake seeing as the visions are strongest when he's asleep.
CHARACTER SAMPLE
"See that's just it. That's what nobody thinks about." He paused and lit a cigarette, watching the smoke curl around his fingers before replying, "All of this? It's like...grapes. On a vine. At the center of it there's that one sweet grape that never sees the light of day. Those other grapes though. They're exposed to sun and rot and damage. How long do you think before that filters through?"
Matt had been listening to the man sitting across from him for a good solid hour and was trying to decide if he needed a drink or a doctor. Maybe both. He should have expected some interesting characters on a bakersfield run but this guy took the cake. He'd crawled out of the corner of the dive bar smelling of cheap cigarettes before sliding next to him and asking him if he knew about the bad weather on the road.
That was the first sign that Matt knew something was wrong (Why though? Why?) because he'd taken a room for the night, a slot really and had intended to write to Jo and Marla from the back of his snug warm truck. He'd had a brief flash of snow and sleet and ice and a vision of something sliding out of control. No pain, there never was but he'd learned to trust his gut.
When he told the man this he laughed, "...Doubt that's your gut sonnyboy. That'd be your great grand daddy who liked to play with fire."
Matt hadn't known what to make of that. Instead he'd done the Christian thing and bought the stranger a couple of beers and listened to him rant. It had concluded with this discussion on grapes, the niggling feeling that it was something more. The feeling wormed it's way down his chest and spread like fire through his lungs. The outer parts are exposed to rot and the insides...
"Something to keep in mind if I ever invest in drinking." Matt laughed, "I mean more then this honestly."
"wake up." The stranger slammed a hand on the table, "Wake the hell up sonnyboy. It ain't about grapes. No damn alcohol neither. It's about the world and our place in it. You've got to see." He reached a gnarled hand across the table and slammed Matt in the forehead, hard.
"You've got to see."
"...I will." He had done his Christian duty, no, done the right thing. Grabbing his hat and his coat he nodded to him, "Stay warm out there."
"Beware the GRIMM!"
Matt froze. Someone across the bar laughed and the stranger stood and pointed, "The black dog comes! It comes for you! They will call all too them, all of them to them and they shall be summoned..."
Cries of "shut up old timer" echoed around the bar and Matt, feeling nervous for the first time in years slid out the double doors and into the night. He bundled into his jacket and looked over his shoulder.
Outside the snow blew cold and the road went on forever. Outside it was easy to believe that there was nothing. Just him and the open road the way he and his father had intended. He tilted the hat on his head and half jogged half walked the way to his truck before he heard it.
Footsteps.
No, not footsteps, too low and too many. Something was behind him.
It stopped and he ignored it. Stray cat.
He began to walk again.
He did not hear the footsteps start again. He felt the grim approach of something on the edge of his senses. The truck less then a hundred yards from where he was. He sensed that prick on the back of your neck that said you were being watched by something and it was not your friend.
His walk got faster.
There! just behind him. One after the other. paws. His vision blurred and he could see the eyes, white and blind, the teeth, Hellhound No. What had he called it? The old man there. The Grimm.
He ran.
He heard it now, the sound of the dog behind him. It sounded like death, like monsters, like everything in him that was horrible. All of his pain and his manifestations and his fears made flesh. He stumbled, dropped the keys and had a sudden vivid flash of the creature's teeth around his throat. Desperation became recklessness and he balled his hand into a fist and drove it through the glass reaching his arm in and unlocking the door.
He slammed it shut behind him and threw his hat against the hole. He couldn't see it. He didn't want to see it, because if he did he would still be in danger.
Like you are now?
There was no vision this time. A hand reached out of the black truck bed and slammed something hard and heavy into his neck and Matt Parker knew no more.
PREFERRED METHOD OF CONTACT plurk: socalramen | aim: bubblegumofficer
DO YOU PLAY ANY OTHER CHARACTERS HERE? Holland Manners
---
CHARACTER NAME Matthew Parker.
CHARACTER PERSONAL DETAILS
Matt Parker is a truck driver who's been doing this a long time. He hails from Nebraska originally, but he started driving (as he himself is fond of saying) at his dad's knee. He loves the open road and it shows, although (and he himself admits this) it could show a little less and he could stand to get out of the truck once in awhile. He's the sort of guy who likes a good beer and a good football game. He's got a wife, Marla, and a cute little girl named Jolene.
If you see Matt you might think of him as the sort of person typical of America and yet not. He is a figure on his way out of history. The trucker speeding across the country delivering everything from corn to children's toys. He's a hell of a driver and can drive anything from a semi to a pickup truck to a Zamboni and he's proud of it.
The thing is, Matt's mother's side has some history. Some very specific history and Matt for awhile now has been using this history to his advantage. He is a seer of sorts, the least likely oracle in the history of oracles. He doesn't like to think about it and it's never been anything more then bad weather ahead or call your wife about your daughter so why stress in the long run?
What could possibly come of it?
CHARACTER PERSONALITY
Matt takes everything with a grain of salt, he's calm and collected even in the worst moments. He was raised with a sense that people depend on him on a larger scale. Sure his family and his friends like having him around but he gets those toys to Toys R Us. He gets those mattresses to their stores. He considers himself a sort of superhero, a common man doing right by the world. He'll greet you with a smile even after he's knocked back a few at the Flying J or any of the other truck stops.
That's not to say he doesn't get upset. He does but it takes a concerted effort. He'd rather negotiate then fight, rather offer then try and punch his way out. He's no coward, he simply believes in the fundamental good of everyone he meets. Matt is a rare figure, one unbiased, one who just wants to help. Even his rages are more sad then angry. He's raised his fists in anger and regretted it and the one fight that he considered "making him a man" resulted in him turning himself into the police. Because of this Matt is well liked by nearly everyone that meets him. There isn't a single manipulative bone in his body - which unfortunately makes it easy for him to be manipulated.
Take his wife who's stepping out on him. The little girl he dotes on that isn't even his. The friends that borrow money and never return it. Matt is a man too kind for the world he lives in, and in a world where people are vampires and demons prowl - that's enough to get him killed.
CHARACTER'S CONNECTION TO THE SUPERNATURAL Matt is a seer, due to blood passed down through his family thanks to a combination of a deal gone bad and a drunken one-night stand. It's so diluted however that he gets only brief flashes of things directly pertaining to his life. Bad weather, rain on the road.
Lately he's been getting flashes of his wife in bed with another man and trying to ignore that. He fights it off with driving and caff-shots, pills that help keep him awake seeing as the visions are strongest when he's asleep.
CHARACTER SAMPLE
Matt had been listening to the man sitting across from him for a good solid hour and was trying to decide if he needed a drink or a doctor. Maybe both. He should have expected some interesting characters on a bakersfield run but this guy took the cake. He'd crawled out of the corner of the dive bar smelling of cheap cigarettes before sliding next to him and asking him if he knew about the bad weather on the road.
That was the first sign that Matt knew something was wrong (Why though? Why?) because he'd taken a room for the night, a slot really and had intended to write to Jo and Marla from the back of his snug warm truck. He'd had a brief flash of snow and sleet and ice and a vision of something sliding out of control. No pain, there never was but he'd learned to trust his gut.
When he told the man this he laughed, "...Doubt that's your gut sonnyboy. That'd be your great grand daddy who liked to play with fire."
Matt hadn't known what to make of that. Instead he'd done the Christian thing and bought the stranger a couple of beers and listened to him rant. It had concluded with this discussion on grapes, the niggling feeling that it was something more. The feeling wormed it's way down his chest and spread like fire through his lungs. The outer parts are exposed to rot and the insides...
"Something to keep in mind if I ever invest in drinking." Matt laughed, "I mean more then this honestly."
"wake up." The stranger slammed a hand on the table, "Wake the hell up sonnyboy. It ain't about grapes. No damn alcohol neither. It's about the world and our place in it. You've got to see." He reached a gnarled hand across the table and slammed Matt in the forehead, hard.
"You've got to see."
"...I will." He had done his Christian duty, no, done the right thing. Grabbing his hat and his coat he nodded to him, "Stay warm out there."
"Beware the GRIMM!"
Matt froze. Someone across the bar laughed and the stranger stood and pointed, "The black dog comes! It comes for you! They will call all too them, all of them to them and they shall be summoned..."
Cries of "shut up old timer" echoed around the bar and Matt, feeling nervous for the first time in years slid out the double doors and into the night. He bundled into his jacket and looked over his shoulder.
Outside the snow blew cold and the road went on forever. Outside it was easy to believe that there was nothing. Just him and the open road the way he and his father had intended. He tilted the hat on his head and half jogged half walked the way to his truck before he heard it.
Footsteps.
No, not footsteps, too low and too many. Something was behind him.
It stopped and he ignored it. Stray cat.
He began to walk again.
He did not hear the footsteps start again. He felt the grim approach of something on the edge of his senses. The truck less then a hundred yards from where he was. He sensed that prick on the back of your neck that said you were being watched by something and it was not your friend.
His walk got faster.
There! just behind him. One after the other. paws. His vision blurred and he could see the eyes, white and blind, the teeth, Hellhound No. What had he called it? The old man there. The Grimm.
He ran.
He heard it now, the sound of the dog behind him. It sounded like death, like monsters, like everything in him that was horrible. All of his pain and his manifestations and his fears made flesh. He stumbled, dropped the keys and had a sudden vivid flash of the creature's teeth around his throat. Desperation became recklessness and he balled his hand into a fist and drove it through the glass reaching his arm in and unlocking the door.
He slammed it shut behind him and threw his hat against the hole. He couldn't see it. He didn't want to see it, because if he did he would still be in danger.
Like you are now?
There was no vision this time. A hand reached out of the black truck bed and slammed something hard and heavy into his neck and Matt Parker knew no more.
