Post by Deleted on Aug 5, 2015 2:05:17 GMT -5
Full Name: Soren Arthur Vega
Nickname/Alias: N/A
Age/Date Of Birth: 27 - September 10th, 1988
Race: Human
Occupation: Hunter/Ex-Marine
Species Group: Hunter
Play-By: Max Riemelt
Special Inventory
Special items that are bought from the store will go here.
Likes (At Least 3):
❤ The band Fatboy Slim - Uhm... They're great.
❤ Pears - Best fruit out there.
❤ Cigarettes - Yeah, yeah, smoking kills, whatever, nicotine is the shit.
❤
Swimming - It's a good work out.
❤ Spontaneity - He loves adventures and surprises.
❤ Hunting - Ridding the world of bad things, hell yes.
❤ Junk food - Who doesn't like junk food?
Dislikes (At Least 3):
✗ The Bible - Honestly that whole thing is over rated.
✗ Entitled assholes - You should have to work for what you have.
✗ Staying in one place for too long - Soren is a very restless man, he doesn't like settling down.
✗His father - Guy was a dick, enough said.
✗ Demons - His least favorite out of everything.
Fears (At Least 2):
☬ His father - Even though the man is dead, he still haunts Soren's dreams and thoughts.
☬ Tight spaces - He has claustrophobia, big time.
Goals (At Least 1):
★ He wants to be the kind of man his mom would have been proud of.
Personality: Soren is the type of man that was born to lead. Ever since he was a child, he was always the one that other kids would look to to make decisions. He was charming, and authoritative, and neither of those two things have really changed. There's something in his aura that just makes people flock to him like sheep. People trust him easily. When it comes to hunting, or any other task really, he's the kind pf person that wants to actively problem solve. He doesn't believe anything can be solved by sitting on your ass and doing nothing.
Soren can be a really compassionate person, and willing to help people with whatever task they're trying to accomplish. But, he also has the ability to make hard decisions, ones that aren't easy to make. He can be aggressive when it comes to protecting the people he cares about and standing up for himself. When he was younger, dealing with his father, Soren learned that there were two options when it came to life; be afraid, or don't be. From an early age he learned to force himself to not be afraid, to block out those feelings and instead of being scared, be risky, fight, don't let anyone walk over you. Pain is something that he embraces now, fighting is something he's used to. He has a lot of restraint when it comes to expressing emotions, and that often makes him seem like a bit of a hard ass.
Though when he's in a situation where he's comfortable, and he doesn't have to be on alert all the time, Soren is totally goofy. To his friends and loved ones, he is extremely protective and concerned for their well beings. He likes to drink, smoke, and be wild. It takes quiet a bit to scare Soren. He has a strict moral code that is simple enough to allow him to do the necessary but controversial things to survive without stirring up excessive internal conflict, a "it's us or them" type attitude.
Traits
✧ Strong
✧ Zealous
✧ Fearless
Negatives (At Least 3):
✦ Blunt
✦ Demanding
✦ Pessimistic
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Parents: Evie Mondragon (deceased) and Stan Vega (deceased)
Siblings: Not that he knows of, though it wouldn't be surprising with how many woman his father saw.
Other Family: N/A
Important Others: @hadley - Old hunting buddy
History: Soren’s father and mother were never married. In fact, they really shouldn’t have even been in a relationship because nothing good came from it. His mom did a lot of drugs. She did a lot of bad things to get drugs like prostitute herself and sell whatever else she could to get a quick buck, rarely was she home for Soren. So it ended up being him and his dad a lot. And his dad had a temper, and liked to drink, and liked to hit Soren and his mom when he got drunk. Eventually his mom left, she got sick of not having anything, got sick of getting hit, and just disappeared. Unfortunately, she didn’t take Soren with her.
So, he ended up with his dad, pretty much raising himself. He learned young how to cook and clean and stay out of his dad’s way, otherwise he’d get his ass beaten. It was common for his dad to bring home multiple hookers, and Soren never really knew what his dad did for a living. Probably something to do with drugs. When he was ten years old he woke up in the middle of the night choking on the putrid stench of smoke, gasping for breathe and only getting lungfuls of poison. Running out into the living room, Soren saw his father passed out on the couch, cigarette in one hand, bottle of Jack in the other. Flames crept up the walls and around the couch and Soren left. He looked at his father, thought of how poorly he’d been treated, and he ran off to the little secret park he’d always hang out in when his dad would bring home women and have sex with them loudly.
He had the opportunity to save his dad, but he didn’t. That’s something that he’s carried with him for the rest of his life. When he eventually went home, hours later, his house was scorched and there were policemen and fire trucks all over the place. Having no suitable family to take him, he was put into the foster system by DHS. Middle school and high school were hard, though not for the reasons one would suspect. He was a good student, hard working, smart, kinda goofy. But no one wanted a teenage boy, so he bounced from house to house until finally graduating at 18 and joining the Marines.
He showed special skills during training and was chosen to train even more extensively and become a Scout Sniper. Soren went on 5 different tours; Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Israel. It was in the Middle East that he really started hunting. He had friends that told tales of people that could turn into dogs, women that could control you with a simple kiss, and demons with black eyes. He saw horrible, terrifying, and amazing things through hunting over there. For seven years, Soren served in the Marines, and then he decided that his time was up and didn’t re-enlist. He came back to America and ended up connecting with a bunch of other hunters, deciding that he would make this his full time career.
He was 25 when he met Hadley Klassen. He saw the newspaper report about her parent’s murders and knew it was suspicious, so he ended up following her and telling her that he was a hunter and she sorta broke down and told him everything, that she’d killed her parents, and so he took her under his wing and they became pretty good hunting partners. He taught her a lot. They were on the road a lot together, going wherever the hunt took them. And then Hadley disappeared, which wasn’t so uncommon, because she was that type of woman. She could kill the demons on the outside, but internally, her demons haunted her. Eventually he tracked her down, still hunting, missing their old antics.
Alias: Sofie/Rabbit's Foot
How did you find us?: Came over from the Mayflower, or the old site.
Experience: Like, 8 years.
Other Characters: Asmodeus, Amon, Allocer, Bellona Iverson, Cole Abernathy, Hadley Klassen, Solviegh Prevedello, Valentine Haverland, Luna Meechum, Karis Jacobs, Elena Haverland, Arie Rangon, Prasad, Silver Haverland, Kamila Korchak, Mika Prescott, Richard Iverson
RP Sample:
Some nights were impossible, and this was one of them. Remy was tired, and annoyed at nearly everyone that entered the club. It seemed like every little girl was up here trying to get the boys at the bar to give her a free drink and the men were no better. They swaggered up to the bar like they were the toughest boys on the block and started calling her ‘baby’ and ‘honey’, like they had a chance at getting it in with her. Not all of them were ugly, or entirely unattractive, but she preferred her men to be a little more composed. Remy was working a double shift because some asshole couldn’t be bothered to show up to his shift, and that just added to her anger. Who did that? A person that ditched work deserved to be fired, and Remy seriously hoped he did. She hated wishing bad things on other people, but wouldn’t be terribly upset if the guy got fired. This wasn’t some child’s play job, and despite the looks she received when she told people that she was a bartender, you had to know your shit. There were hundreds of varieties of drinks to have to memorize, and the more drinks you made the better you became at it. The more you knew the drink, the faster you could mix it up, and that led to a larger tip. No one wants to wait for their drinks.
All those little flips you could do with the bottle, those came with due time. Remy could do about half as many tricks as everyone else, and that caused her to feel nothing short of utter humiliation. She had a need to be better, a need to be the best. And a realization that her bottle flipping skills couldn’t compare to those of the more experienced, older bartenders. The basic flips and easy little spins on her heels she had down, but ask her to do anything else and there’d be shattered glass all over the floor. Remy hated it, and the envy she felt when people clapped and cheered for the other bartenders was at an all time high tonight. Stupid Davis was showing off for some brunette with legs ten miles long and a tan so dark that you could practically smell the tanning lotion coming off.
Rolling her eyes, Remy poured a couple shots of tequila for a lady and then went back to wiping down the counter and making sure all the bottles were clean and full. This was the boring part of her job, wiping down bottle after bottle. Couldn’t have a single sticky one, or a half empty one, or anything that looked messy and in disarray. So she wiped and straightened and poured drinks and kept looking at the clock every five seconds, wanting her shift to be over already. Remy yawned and looked over at Jeremy, he was still flipping bottles. She furrowed her eyebrows and scrubbed the counter a little harder. Just as she was about to yawn again, like they’d sensed that she was bored and on cue started up, two obviously drunk guys started yelling at each other. That really wasn’t anything new, yelled and fought around here all the time. You called over the bouncer, or security, and that was that. But this time was different, much to her entertainment. These guys were big, drunk, loud, and they’d started to throw punches. So a couple random people tried to step in and be heroes, and they ended up getting sucked into the fight too.
Oh man, was this good. But she had to step in, now it was getting serious. There were multiple security guards rushing around, trying to pry the fighting people apart. She could hear their panicked voices on their walkie-talkies, and that was enough for her to understand that this was big. There usually weren’t massive fights like this, at least not that she’d seen. But she’d only been there a couple of months, so maybe this was a common thing. Either way, Remy stepped in. Not that it was really her place, but she didn’t want anyone to actually get kill tonight. Moving quickly around the counter, she pushed her way through the thick crowd and grabbed the back of some guy’s shirt. Yanking him back roughly, the man whirled around, slapping her arms away. He looked like he was about to hit her, and she braced herself for it. But he didn’t, and instead just stormed off, shoving his way through the mass of people.
Adrenaline pumping through her veins, heart thudding loudly in her chest, Remy moved in on another guy. This guy was actually bleeding, all over. Blood ran down out of his nose, over his lips, onto his shirt, and onto the ground. Remy grabbed him by the arm, and at first he pulled away. But she tugged him on until he followed her over to the bar and sat on one of the stools. Remy leaned over and grabbed a few paper towels, then handed them to the guy. He didn’t need to be bleeding all over everyone over there, it was gross and messy and not okay. The guy tried saying something, but he was way too drunk for it to actually make any sense. Remy just pushed more paper towels towards him and tried to keep an eye on the fight still happening. While security had managed to clear up a huge chunk of the fighting people, some die-hard fighters were still going at it.
Behind her a man started yelling, but she didn’t think anything of it until she was sandwiched between two screaming men. What were they yelling about? Remy didn’t have the slightest clue. All she knew was that the bleeding guy was standing up, tossing the paper towels to the side and grabbing for the other man. That was it. Remy put both her arms out, shoving them both apart as much as she could. But she wasn’t anything special, and the men easily pushed right back. If there was something she hated above all other things, it was getting pushed around. In a furious moment, Remy turned and shoved the bloody-nose guy down onto the stool. “Just sit down!” She yelled, her voice holding enough of a demanding tone that he listened. Spinning around to the other man she pushed him back with both hands this time, so it sent him reeling backwards. Remy almost ordered him to leave, but she couldn’t think of any clever way to put it. People in movies always had the coolest catch phrases, yet she couldn’t think of a single one. Security stepped in before she really had a chance to say anything, and led both men out.
Remy bit her lip, watching the crowd slowly disperse. So she’d wanted exciting, but maybe next time she’d try for a little less exciting.
All those little flips you could do with the bottle, those came with due time. Remy could do about half as many tricks as everyone else, and that caused her to feel nothing short of utter humiliation. She had a need to be better, a need to be the best. And a realization that her bottle flipping skills couldn’t compare to those of the more experienced, older bartenders. The basic flips and easy little spins on her heels she had down, but ask her to do anything else and there’d be shattered glass all over the floor. Remy hated it, and the envy she felt when people clapped and cheered for the other bartenders was at an all time high tonight. Stupid Davis was showing off for some brunette with legs ten miles long and a tan so dark that you could practically smell the tanning lotion coming off.
Rolling her eyes, Remy poured a couple shots of tequila for a lady and then went back to wiping down the counter and making sure all the bottles were clean and full. This was the boring part of her job, wiping down bottle after bottle. Couldn’t have a single sticky one, or a half empty one, or anything that looked messy and in disarray. So she wiped and straightened and poured drinks and kept looking at the clock every five seconds, wanting her shift to be over already. Remy yawned and looked over at Jeremy, he was still flipping bottles. She furrowed her eyebrows and scrubbed the counter a little harder. Just as she was about to yawn again, like they’d sensed that she was bored and on cue started up, two obviously drunk guys started yelling at each other. That really wasn’t anything new, yelled and fought around here all the time. You called over the bouncer, or security, and that was that. But this time was different, much to her entertainment. These guys were big, drunk, loud, and they’d started to throw punches. So a couple random people tried to step in and be heroes, and they ended up getting sucked into the fight too.
Oh man, was this good. But she had to step in, now it was getting serious. There were multiple security guards rushing around, trying to pry the fighting people apart. She could hear their panicked voices on their walkie-talkies, and that was enough for her to understand that this was big. There usually weren’t massive fights like this, at least not that she’d seen. But she’d only been there a couple of months, so maybe this was a common thing. Either way, Remy stepped in. Not that it was really her place, but she didn’t want anyone to actually get kill tonight. Moving quickly around the counter, she pushed her way through the thick crowd and grabbed the back of some guy’s shirt. Yanking him back roughly, the man whirled around, slapping her arms away. He looked like he was about to hit her, and she braced herself for it. But he didn’t, and instead just stormed off, shoving his way through the mass of people.
Adrenaline pumping through her veins, heart thudding loudly in her chest, Remy moved in on another guy. This guy was actually bleeding, all over. Blood ran down out of his nose, over his lips, onto his shirt, and onto the ground. Remy grabbed him by the arm, and at first he pulled away. But she tugged him on until he followed her over to the bar and sat on one of the stools. Remy leaned over and grabbed a few paper towels, then handed them to the guy. He didn’t need to be bleeding all over everyone over there, it was gross and messy and not okay. The guy tried saying something, but he was way too drunk for it to actually make any sense. Remy just pushed more paper towels towards him and tried to keep an eye on the fight still happening. While security had managed to clear up a huge chunk of the fighting people, some die-hard fighters were still going at it.
Behind her a man started yelling, but she didn’t think anything of it until she was sandwiched between two screaming men. What were they yelling about? Remy didn’t have the slightest clue. All she knew was that the bleeding guy was standing up, tossing the paper towels to the side and grabbing for the other man. That was it. Remy put both her arms out, shoving them both apart as much as she could. But she wasn’t anything special, and the men easily pushed right back. If there was something she hated above all other things, it was getting pushed around. In a furious moment, Remy turned and shoved the bloody-nose guy down onto the stool. “Just sit down!” She yelled, her voice holding enough of a demanding tone that he listened. Spinning around to the other man she pushed him back with both hands this time, so it sent him reeling backwards. Remy almost ordered him to leave, but she couldn’t think of any clever way to put it. People in movies always had the coolest catch phrases, yet she couldn’t think of a single one. Security stepped in before she really had a chance to say anything, and led both men out.
Remy bit her lip, watching the crowd slowly disperse. So she’d wanted exciting, but maybe next time she’d try for a little less exciting.
I (Soren Vega) have read the site rules and understand them. The code word for the rules is: (Batman)
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Application Created By Hell Hound
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