Name/Penname: Haibel Cero
Age:19
Other characters: -
RP experience: 2 years

For your character ...

Name: Nashaun Cruxfield

Alias: Nash

Breed: Werewolf

Age:18

Sexual Orientation: straight

Accent: American, talks a little slower then normal, but clearly

Family: none-Drifter

Sire: -

Clan Member: No

Servant: No

Appearance: http://i185.photobucket.com/albums/x27/Deidara1080/nash2.jpg

Personality:
Nash's persona resembles that of a thinker. He usually waits his turn in speaking, pays attention to others around him, and keeps his inner thoughts well...inner. Life on the road has made him crafty, patient, and quite the cardiovascular being. When you have to run to escape human authorites, angry homeowners, or that feast that keeps you going, you need to have the lungs and heart power to handle it all. Nash deals with things like anger, greif, happiness and other shorter emotions short...but also long. He'll usually store the feeling, get on with what he was doing, and then go over the feelings later with himself.

Most of the people that Nash meet are just truck stop workers, and the occasional hitchhiker. Dont really stay together too long, and usually make that lame 'When I'm rich, I'll be sure to find you first' promise. He might have forgotten all the faces and names he saw, and this makes him a bit unsure on how his social status is. "Short and sweet", are some deep words once you think of them. Let the people you get to know attach to you, but dont let them bury their roots too deep. Because when you leave, they will take away whatever they have rooted.

History: Nash is a young man who hails from Riverdale, Maryland. Residing on Strawberry street in Prince Georges county made getting used to crime easy for the young Nash. From around age 3-12 he lived his his grandparents. They were nice people to take him in, and his Great-Grandmother, Eva Murihead lived in Washington DC, only 15 minutes away. His days were filled with school, sports after school, not doing homework to play video games, and going to see his Great Grandmother every weekend. Going to see her was the joy of his life. French Toast in the morning, movies and spending time with his Greant-Grandma which he called "Nanny", occasionally traveling around with her, and every night she would lul him to sleep with the Bronze Lulaby in German, a tune he remembers to this day.

At about the age of 11, Nash's family moved to Florida. It was a tough move for him, mostly because now he would have to wait until the Christmas break and Summer to travel to Washington DC and see Nanny again. Florida wasn't so bad though, he joined a karate class, and was trained for 19 monthes with Master Kovu to get to a 2ed degree black belt in a specialized art called the "Heavy Fist". Never really knowing parents, Master Kovu became them in an aspect and again, filled his soul with joy.

Though this joy was cut short when Nash was forced to move again at the age of 13. His mother got his custody back, and he moved to Marion, South Carolina when he would get to know....Them.
His mom had been dating a guy named Larry. He had a good house, a dad that lived 2 houses down, and quite a smart daughter, Katrina. It was a pretty nice life here. He was a bit closer to his Nanny, and now he would have a friend in Katrina. They went through a lot together in the 3 years that this humble little family was together. They ate together, slept only down 1 room apart, had a few classes toghether, got each other out of doing drugs, and hung out whenever possible. It was as if they were meant to be friends for life. Though there was an issue that was overlooked by Nash's mind. Once every month, Katrina would get very irate, and somewhat violent. Of course, she was a woman, maybe it was just that time of the month? That was odd, even when Larry acted strange around the same time. But maybe he was just annoyed that Katrina was like that. Yeah, that had to be it.
This was the mistake that would change him. On that fateful night, something awakened Nash from his sleep. The sound of a slam against the wall, a picture falling and a woman screaming disrupted Nash's dreary mind. In a state of alert, he quickly leaped out of bed and threw open the door. The sight was almost instantly burned into his mind. These 2 gigantic wolf people going through what remained of his mother. It was as if watching the event in slow motion, he saw them get ready, and leap at him, but the only action he could manage through the gripping fear was the ability to get his right arm up to protect his face. The 2 wolves chomped down on his arm with bone-breaking strengh, sending shocks of pain all through his body to his mind. He screamed, it was a loud scream, from the bottom of his lungs that echoed through the house and out through some windows in the night. Nash tried to break free by stepping back but that came to no avail. So, the next thing was to get them off him somehow, which turned out to be his turning his back to them, jumping slightly, and delivering a kick to both of them directly to the throat. It did the job quite well, maybe he had a little more strength then he thought. What happened next was the odd part. He looked to the side, and to the full moon, and he too changed. His fur was black as the night sky, his eyes as yellow as the sun, fangs glistened in the light, and the arm which was attacked glew a slight purple at the tips of his fur. This was in fact, the first time he became a Werewolf, and so it was all new-found instinct. Right hand open, he threw his arm forward. The sound of bones breaking sounded clear and his arm extended twords his attackers. Claws out and ready for the kill, they through the throat of one, shifted to the side, through the others as well, and into the dry wall where he found the grip of a board that. The second image to be burned into his mind was the sight of their eyes. He glared at them with the hatred of a demon, but they're eyes seemed to be sorrowful, and asking for forgiveness. He released the board in the wall, and retracted his arm, only to have it retract wront, andcome back in a crooked manner. This only caused him more pain, and he let out a howl into the night. It might have been a few seconds, or minutes before he could open his eyes and look to his kill. There lie the bodies of Larry and Katrina. Sorrow took Nash, and he ran. He ran into the night, right down the middle of the road. Only the sound of the wind could cover his wimpers. Once the morn came, he was just a naked kid, passed out from exhaustion on the side of the road. A passer got him to the hospital where Nash would eventually escape and start his life on the road.

Weapon: On hand Nash keeps an 8-shot blessed revolver, easily reloaded with 2 full reloads, and a blessed survival knife

Skills:
The Arm of Greed- Nash's right arm can be extended to about 7 meters once his body has been transfigured by the full moon. It is not a skill that cen be held very long, and retracts right back like one of those bracelets that can fit to all sizes unless he graps something to keep it extended. However, it can be useful for an extended range of attack, but it could also snap back into place wrong and requre some medical attention.

Half-Shift- Nash has one little speciality that a few Werewolves dont. The ability to change any night he feels. Yet with this power comes a downfall. He gets stronger, but he only gets half the strength that he would on the full moon, or a fourth of his strength if on a New Moon, and his Arm of Greed is limited to a 3 meter extension, and has a 50% chance of retracting wrong.

Weaknesses:
Silver
HIgh impact to right arm
the name "Katrina"

Fears:
Large Bodies of water
Helplessness

Likes:
Meat
Rock/Metal Music
Skipping rocks from a safe distance
Steamed Crab

Dislikes:
Large groups of people



Other Details: Because of the Arm of Greed, there are scars that wrap around Nash's right arm like bracelets, as well as 2 sets of bite marks on the same arm.

Face Claim: Ian Miller

Password: "All Roads Lead to Rome"

RP Sample …
Nash made a moderate cough and swung his right free hand through the air in front of him in a fanning motion to clear up the smoke that had so issued from the barrel of his beloved revolver just moments before. Pay day was good indeed, and by pay day, he meant a quick jump into someone's house and a swift raid. It was on the outskirts of San Fransisco. The fact that he had some loot, and still 16 shots left in case anything occured was always a good fact. Now would be the time to find a shop that sold guns to but 8 more rounds, and then a church to supply the holy water needed from blessing the rounds. He lifted the gun to eye level, it's barrel gleemed in the faint light that was given from the street light, and the half-full moon. It might have been chilly, slightly anyway. Telling the temperature was always a problem for Nash. With an elevated temperture, and the jacket, long pants and beanie made it look like he was trying to keep warm anyway. "Sell it, it's how you'll survive" . The words echoed through his cranium, reminding him of his former friend's last words. It was one of those ghost memories that didn't seem to want to go away. He sighed lightly, letting his eyes close, and his head drop as he placed the glittering weapon in it's holster on his right hip, snaping the small strap into place to prevent falling and perhaps a theif.
It should be about that time, you should go now before you attract any attention. Normal people dont just shoot a gun 8 times, and stand there staring at the ground.
You chill..I was about to go anyway.
Sure you were Nash, sure you were
That was something that he would have to stop doing. Debating with himself, people might think he had some kind of split persona if they ever really watched him argue with himself. He turned his body parallel with the small one-way street and began walking. The short-term memory caught up with him, and he moved his left hand over, un-snapped his revolver and removed it yet again. A small lever was pushed down, and the empty bullet slots flipped out. He extended his arm a little bit ahead of himself and tilted it back, letting the empty shells fall and hit the ground with small clinks and tinks. His right hand went for the pocket on his right leg, on the side of the knee and pulled out a fresh wheel of ammo. It was simple to reload this weapon, just get the tips of the rounds into the holes of the ammo slots and push a release button, and they slide right in The ammo wheel cut down a lot of time and hastle, maybe even save his life later on. Once reloaded, he put the empty wheel back in his pocket for future use, snapped the rounds into place, and put the revolver back into it's holster.

His eyes weren't really focused, they would occasiionally go to the sides, the sky, the ground, and maybe to a car that would pass him or a house that he was passing. The sky because it was pretty, the sides for anyone, and to the ground for any kind of critter. Snake or big spider or something, you never know what could take care of you when you're not looking. Yet the sudden proximiny of light caused his attention to kick in as he looked up by a street sign.

San Francisco - 3 miles

Thats nice, it'll be good to get off this street and into an area that I can get some food and supplies
A smile passed over his face and he quickened his pace in order to reach the city faster. What could happen here anyway? Quick in, glace around, and out.

Note - hmm. I really hope this area is still up and running. Thats my first issue.
Ok...about Nash. I was actually going to name him after my SN as the name but this one just fell into place. I was originally going to go with some kind of Vampire Hunter that was banished from the Vatican due to forbidden experimentation, and on clues around the country, came to San Fran. Make him wear all aromor and such, white knight.
Yet at school, my friends and I have divided ourselves into like Vamps and Wolves too, and I'm more prone to wolves. I'm actually jumping back from time to time, getting in more info as it comes to me, so I'm slightly glad you cant see my type.