Difference between revisions of "User:Taggart"
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== Default Appearance == | == Default Appearance == | ||
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| + | Most often seen in the form of a large, hulking wolfman, Taggart radiates strength and a | ||
| + | cool dominance. Standing at least six and half feet tall, you bet if he staightened his | ||
| + | back and didn't hunch his broad shoudlers slightly that it'd give him another half foot. | ||
| + | Aside from his height, his limbs bulge with strength, not grotesquely, but he is definitely | ||
| + | made of stone. His feet land heavier than they should as well, sounding as if the Irishman | ||
| + | carries a bit of extra weight with him. Perhaps is just how densely packed that muscle | ||
| + | seems to be. | ||
| + | |||
| + | Taggart seems to move about with a quiet swagger and a cocky smile, as if everyone were | ||
| + | always watching him and he knew it. A few things remain constant with the man's day to day | ||
| + | genetic mutations, keeping him fairly recognizable to anyone who's taken a good look at him. | ||
| + | Firstly, he views the world from a pair of piercing emerald green eyes that constantly | ||
| + | glitter with mirth, though if that mirth is struck from joy or malice is difficult to tell. | ||
| + | Second, burnished golden-hair tops his head, the fact seeming to transfer to any fur that | ||
| + | may crop up along his body as well. Third would be the almost outrageous and thick Irish | ||
| + | accent that lilts his voice, though, it sounds genuine. | ||
| + | |||
| + | He wears dusty clothing, but prefers his modesty, it seems. He tends to favor darker | ||
| + | clothing, though it seems to change on daily basis. He does, however, seem to always be | ||
| + | wearing a hooded peacoat and modern styled fedora. A shoulderstrapped bag, seemingly an old | ||
| + | World War 2 relic, hangs at his side and a shillelagh of a dark blackthorn wood hangs from a | ||
| + | leather thong over his chest, on the opposite side. In addition to the dangerous looking | ||
| + | club, a Steyr AUG hangs in a relaxed grip in front of him, the bullpup assault rifle a bit | ||
| + | worn, but apparently well taken care of. | ||
== Recent History == | == Recent History == | ||
Revision as of 22:25, 9 May 2011
Character Details
Nickname: Irish
Real Name: Taggart Vallon "Green"
Age: Twenty-seven
Nationality: Irish
Allegiance: None
Occupation: Bar-owner, distiller, soap-maker, drunk... to list just a few of his many wide talents.
Preferred Strain: Wolf Beast
Characteristics: Irish through and through, this one was. He enjoyed his whiskey as much as he enjoyed a good laugh and a good fight. Taggart is usually seen watching and talking with a snarky grin on his muzzle, cocky and dominant in just about every action that he takes. Quick to anger and fiercely territorial, he seems to be a creature easily ruled by his heart. It isn't until after his loud outbursts that he tends to think things through and realize the error of his ways. However, that cool rational mind does tend to drive from time to time, often directing others who seem lost or confused and in need of guidance.
Default Appearance
Most often seen in the form of a large, hulking wolfman, Taggart radiates strength and a cool dominance. Standing at least six and half feet tall, you bet if he staightened his back and didn't hunch his broad shoudlers slightly that it'd give him another half foot. Aside from his height, his limbs bulge with strength, not grotesquely, but he is definitely made of stone. His feet land heavier than they should as well, sounding as if the Irishman carries a bit of extra weight with him. Perhaps is just how densely packed that muscle seems to be.
Taggart seems to move about with a quiet swagger and a cocky smile, as if everyone were always watching him and he knew it. A few things remain constant with the man's day to day genetic mutations, keeping him fairly recognizable to anyone who's taken a good look at him. Firstly, he views the world from a pair of piercing emerald green eyes that constantly glitter with mirth, though if that mirth is struck from joy or malice is difficult to tell. Second, burnished golden-hair tops his head, the fact seeming to transfer to any fur that may crop up along his body as well. Third would be the almost outrageous and thick Irish accent that lilts his voice, though, it sounds genuine.
He wears dusty clothing, but prefers his modesty, it seems. He tends to favor darker clothing, though it seems to change on daily basis. He does, however, seem to always be wearing a hooded peacoat and modern styled fedora. A shoulderstrapped bag, seemingly an old World War 2 relic, hangs at his side and a shillelagh of a dark blackthorn wood hangs from a leather thong over his chest, on the opposite side. In addition to the dangerous looking club, a Steyr AUG hangs in a relaxed grip in front of him, the bullpup assault rifle a bit worn, but apparently well taken care of.
