Post by DICK ♥ ASHTON on Feb 27, 2013 13:05:33 GMT -6
JE SUIS FOLLE DE TOI♥
* *C'EST TOI QU'A COMMENCÉ
N A M E* *
Richard Bruce Ashton
N I C K N A M E S* *
Rick, Ricky, Rich; However he commonly and lovingly goes by Dick
A G E* *
Forty six; He'd like to remind you that his birthday is December 3rd
G E N D E R* *
Male
O R I E N T A T I O N* *
Heterosexual; Although he won't fault any men from flirting with him, he does know how incredibly good looking he is
S P E C I E S* *
Human; Plain, I know, but Dick doesn't like complicated
P O W E R S & A B I L I T I E S* *
Very good with Karate & a few other fighting styles; Knows how to mix a drink & can make a delicious chili
* *FOU ET TELLEMENT ÉVIDENT
O C C U P A T I O N* *
Professor of European History (leaning heavily on Great Britain & alcohol)
C L A S S Y E A R* *
Never attended the school, teaches and roams the halls
* *QUE VEUX-TU
Dick is someone who shoots first and asks questions later in most situations. Which tends to lead to a lot of unanswered questions. He's a no nonsense kind of guy. When he asks you something he wants an answer, not a run around of excuses and lies, that leads to him ultimately just shooting you. He doesn't have much patience when it comes to people he doesn't respect, and his respect is a hard thing to earn. While he wouldn't mind taking a bullet for someone, if he doesn't like you, he'll just let you die. He's also very curt and brash. He generally doesn't have much to say, so when he's asked a question he will give quick, one-word answers and on occasion a grunt. He doesn't necessarily mean to be rude, he's just preoccupied with his own thoughts to give most people the time of day. He's a very busy man.
At one point in Dick's life he had been an open and compassionate man, but that was when he was with his wife. She brought out the better traits in him after they met and married. He found he could share things with his wife that he couldn't share with other people and felt as though his wife actually understood him. His life had always been complicated as he grew up, but his wife was a shining light that allowed him to express his feelings. And when his son was born, Dick became a happier person, feeling as though he had a true purpose in life. Then, six years later, his family was killed when their car was hit head on by a drunk driver. At that point, he felt that light and happiness within him darken again and he became the dick we see and love today. And while he's a dick on the outside, he does have a strong sense of family and doesn't want to lose anyone else from his life if he can help it.
Because of his upbringing he has a very sarcastic outlook on life. Dick is kind of pessimistic, he sees things in a negative way, for example, anytime something bad happens he expects to die. Or for someone to die, or for someone else who knows someone is going to die. Basically, he's always expecting someone to die. He's sarcastic in the way that drives other people insane trying to guess if he's being serious or not. It's like his first language, he's able to react to people so fast that his dick-ish retorts are a second nature. Which does get him in trouble with authority figures.
There are a few things that do bring a smile to his face. He enjoys the company of women. Very, very loose women. The kind of women he has to pay to have them spend time with him. Cough, cough. He also appreciates the theater, mostly operas and on the occasion depressing shows that leave him feeling better about his crappy life. There is also one thing that he loves above everything else. One, tiny, itty-bitty thing: Telemarketers. Now, you may be questioning as to why he loves them so much, but it's not so much that he loves them, it's that he loves that they call. He considers them his personal shrinks. While they babble on about the exciting new product or service they're trying to get him to buy, he spends the entire time bitching, whining and threatening to hunt them down and kill them if they ever call him again.
Which of course, they do.
L I K E S* *
- Drinking, a lot
- Whores / Strippers
- Telemarketers
- Various weapons
- Money
- Molding the minds of the young into his own little robots... Er, teaching
D I S L I K E S* *
- Snakes
- Most people
- Especially people in cars
- Traveling long distances by car
- Forms of music that isn't classical or opera
- Vampires
S T R E N G T H S* *
- Knows how to defend himself
- Quick witted
- Athletic, built
W E A K N E S S E S* *
- Has a temper
- Rude
- A bit introverted
* *JE VEUX TE VOIR
M O T H E R* *
Candance Spencer-Ashton (deceased)
F A T H E R* *
Robert Ashton (unknown)
S I B L I N G S* *
Michael Ashton (deceased)
S P O U S E* *
Marylyn Creaton-Ashton (deceased)
C H I L D R E N* *
Isiah Ashton (deceased)
O T H E R* *
None currently; However any are welcome, you just might end up dead
H I S T O R Y* *
Richard's story begins in the late 1960's. He was born in Liverpool, England to a family of three. They lived in a one bedroom house that was run down to the point of being considered dangerous to live in by the city. But they were poor and his parents didn't make enough to move them out of the area. His mother was a meth addict, and loved her drugs more than she cared for her two sons, his father was a boxer, bringing home scraps and only a few bucks every weekend to help pay for their living and the meth. What his mother didn't spend on drugs or rent, his father spent on alcohol. He was an angry drunk, and spent most of his time home either beating Rick, or his brother.
When he turned eight there was a fire in the house started by his mother's pipe when she passed out after an overdose. His brother and mother died in the fire, leaving Dick alone with his father after the fire settled. It wasn't an easy transition, his father couldn't afford much so they lived in another run-down shack just a few blocks over. He spent most of his time outside playing with the other kids in the neighborhood and avoiding home as much as possible. His father continued boxing and beat Richard, inadvertently teaching his son how to defend himself and how to fight back.
In his teens he was forcibly sent into the foster system after a particularly bad beating from his father. He didn't enjoy it, at all, and before a full week passed with him at the home, he ran away. He hopped a train taking it into London and from there he tried to find himself work. Which wasn't easy considering he had never had any schooling. After searching for a few weeks and living on the street, Dick found work at a factory. Packaging, moving, and lifting boxes in and out of trucks. It wasn't easy work but it paid well enough for him to eat. And after a few years he had saved up enough to get himself a small flat in the outer parts of the city.
In his twenties he, sadly, followed in his father's footsteps and began fighting in the underground arenas. Finding it a decent amount of money that helped him afford his coke addiction. He wasn't proud of the life he was leading, but instead of making up excuses he just accepted that he was fucked up since birth. At twenty-two he overdosed, waking up a few days later in the hospital after an elderly woman from his apartment building found him halfway down the stairwell. He considered it a wake up call, and started to ween off the drugs. Finding it harder than he expected, he ended up joining a support group (upon being forced to by his doctor) and that's where he met Marylyn.
She had been an exchange student from Australia, in England on a VISA to attend an esteemed art school. It was there that she met her first English boyfriend, Eddie, and was introduced to meth. She became addicted to it, Eddie using her for sex whenever she wanted another hit. And when he broke up with her for a much younger girl, she attempted to commit suicide. It hadn't worked and Mary enrolled herself into the support group, wanting to get clean before she returned to Australia.
Richard felt as if he had found the one person who would make his life worth living. It didn't take long for him to convince Mary of the same thing, and together they sobered up and he followed her back to Australia. They married a couple years later and less than nine months later their son, Isiah was born. Dick fell in love with the baby boy and devoted his new life to being a better parent than either of his had been. Except this life wasn't destined to last for very long. Three years after their marriage, Mary & Isiah were both killed by a drunk driver on their way home from visiting her parents. This left a gaping hole in Dick's heart that wouldn't patch itself up for years.
He grew a deep hatred for people, going to bars and picking fights with whoever dared to even look at him. He grew impatient and quit his job, willing to go back to living on the street so that he wouldn't have reminders of his family at every turn. He tried to get back into underground boxing, but it wasn't as popular here as it had been back home. Debating on leaving for England, he spent another sleepless night in a bar, drowning his hatred in beer and whiskey. But this time when he picked a fight, he picked the wrong person.
Turns out, Dick had found the one vampire in his area who enjoyed trolling bars. His memories of that night are more than a little fuzzy, but he reminds clearly what the Vampire said to him before leaving him a bloody pulp in the alley. "You taste so much more bitter, than your wife." Waking up in a daze in yet another hospital, Dick feared those nine little words. A new found mission took over his life. Dick spent hours upon hours in libraries exploring this new world of supernatural. He pleaded with the officers who took the report on his wife's accident to see the evidence, their reports. He needed to know if what had happened to his wife had really been an accident or not.
The more he dug into the world of the supernatural, the more he learned about Holy Cross. And while he agreed with some of their radical ideas, he found them to be crass and unforgiving. Dick wanted the head of the vampire that murdered his family, but cared nothing for the others out there like him.
In his studies he met another person who was just as obsessed as he was. A rotund man who enjoyed diving into the middle of cults and fanatics. He was a genius with the computer, able to track and spy on anyone he wished. Dick used his friend's abilities to track the man he met at the bar, the vampire he so desperately wanted dead. It took months to find him, but Dick was able to track the man to an Island in the Americas, before his trail went cold.
Dick studied the island, finding any information about it to be nearly impossible. His friend helped him uncover the truth, helped him create a new identity, a false school degree and the money to get him to the island. Against his better judgment, Dick traveled to Elysian Island, determined to bring an end to the vampire, or die trying.
Arriving to the island as the new European History teacher, Dick has tried his best to fit into the mix of species and creatures he's currently surrounded by, all the while keeping an eye open for a specific someone.
* *C'EST EN QUELQUE SORTE JUSTICE
RP Sample»
Steve walks warily down the street, with the brim pulled way down low. Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet... Machine guns ready to go. The clicking of heels on the sidewalk distracted the older gentleman from his song. Long legs wrapped in a short skirt blinded his mind as he watched it saunter past him and disappear into the darkness of the night. A sigh of disappointment left lips, ones that were used to all kinds of treatment, and eyes lowered once more as the feet below them began their journey away from those swaying hips.
Dick wasn't one to so blatantly ignore a short skirt and the flowery smell of a temptress, but he wasn't home in Australia anymore. He was in some crap town with a curfew and the possibility of anyone he tried to feel up screaming rape and stabbing him with a shoe. He was saddened by this fact, though he was older he was handsome by most standards, gorgeous by others and had the energy of a young stallion. He could still handle anything thrown at him at his age. He was fit, built to haul a ship out of the water without much thought.
But the states were drastically different from where he grew up and where he lived. A puff of smoke curled from his mouth as he exhaled, the cigarette held firmly between two fingers. He stopped walking, standing just below the sign of a bookstore. Dick stared at his reflection in the large glass protecting the display just on the other side. He turned sideways, giving himself the once over before smirking in approval. He still had it.
He dropped the cigarette to the ground, pressing it into the sidewalk with his heel before continuing down the street. The street lamps offered little light, but he wasn't too worried. It was a small town, he doubted there would be much violence here, and even if there was, he was more than capable of defending himself. If anything, Dick was not one to be fucked with, on any level. He didn't have the patience for common criminals, or Girl Scouts, the Avon lady, or anything else that he deemed less important than porn and chocolate chip cookies.
Glancing at the sky, Dick straightened the beanie on his head, they always made his head itchy, but the weather was near unbearable at night here and he needed to keep his hot blood warm somehow. Guessing what time it was he quickly jogged across the street, turning down an alley and then coming out on the other side of Brookings with a less than decent look on his face. This was the part he hated. Having to decide if someone was worth keeping around or not. He didn't like the job, but it was dangerous and he wasn't about to put someone else in a line of fire if he could help it.
A lone car sat on this street, empty, dark, but it set Dick's nerves on edge. The house it stood in front of was his target. He had received reports of someone there having powers. And he needed to figure out the intensity of said powers. Ignoring the part of him that said "RUN BITCH, RUN", Dick took the four steps leading to the porch two at a time, and stood beside the window trying to take a look inside. It was dark, not even a street lamp shone through a back window. It made Dick wonder if he was being set up. It seemed like no one lived in the house, he couldn't make out the form of a single piece of furniture or body from the window.
A creak. A crack. Something was behind him. Having only a moment to pray, Dick turned away from the window and towards the noise, his hand bringing out the switchblade he carried at his belt.
* *JE TE CONNAIS PAR COEUR
A L I A S* *
Paranoia or Ashe
T I M E Z O N E* *
West Coast.
C O N T A C T* *
PM or if necessary on Skype~ (PM for skype info : D)
O T H E R C H A R A C T E R S* *
None currently.
T O P S E C R E T C O D E* *
