User:Taggart

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.

Recent History

How this Irishman came to find himself in Fairview is only known to him. However, he seems to quickly have turned it into his new home. The day he woke up in Triage as the wolf he'd become, he'd thrown gurneys and nearly killed the medic who had saved his life. After calming and dutifully apologizing for the damage, Taggart made it known quickly that he was a fighter and aimed to put fist to face for his cause. Whatever that might be, it seemed to coincide with Zephyr's idea of being a field agent for the time being. Not to mention needing a way to pay for the damage he'd caused.

The large wolf quickly made himself known around the Zephyr building for being a brash thug-of-sorts, with no tolerance for the many public displays of sex that seemed to be a constant around the place. In stark contrast, he seemed to be distilling his own liquor and passing it out for free for awhile, sure to encourage the behavior when he wasn't looking. A dizzying dichotomy of feeling and emotion, Taggart would flirt with the best of them and then immediately turn about and chide whenever someone tried getting into his pants.

Then, came a night to change it all. That day when a young, human Russian-girl, Raifuru, caught his eye and he'd decided to chat her up. He'd admired her strength and fire, her willingness and almost eager need to fight. Another in the Lobby had noticed the same, the then-gryphon named Lyria. The relations that grew from that... well. To top it off, a third caught his eye for the very same reason, resulting in the twisting of chaotic emotions that resulted in the strange and drastic series of events that followed in the next few weeks.

Taggart, Raifuru, and Lyria spent quite a bit of time together after that, for various reasons and with different results. The wolf constantly struggled with what he was, the creature driven with the need to breed, but trying so hard to hold on to the man that he was before and forsaking such things. Not to mention, trying to remain friends with someone who chose to go feral. His mind and feelings in constant torment and struggling with each other, it wasn't long before he finally snapped and when on a rampage through the city, slaughtering and raping ferals by the scores.

(More to come soon.)