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Unless specifically told otherwise, you can safely assume that the Newschool vodka is in effect. [Scroll down]
Oldschool badass Vodka
Name: Vodka (real name unknown)
Age: 22
Gender: male
Species/Race: Fox morph
Height: about 4' 2" tall, give or take
Weight: 122 lbs of almost pure muscle
Build: Very, very solidly built, but manages to convey a roguish air, rather then an overbearing muscle-bound brute.
Fur: Black. Midnight black. A color virtually unheard of in foxes, leading to some potentially interesting points on his ancestry, should anyone care to ask. His tail has a grey tip to it... again, an interesting story accompanies this.
Eye Color: Golden amber
Clothing (armor): None/not applicable (the fur conceals the important bits anyway), the closest he gets is a black billowing hooded cloak, suitable for both concealing his species type for the more paranoid and intolerant of human settlements, and hiding the single handgun he carries. The cloak has a pair of sizeable pockets, one about midway up the left side (internal), and the other in plain view on the right side (external). The internal pocket usually contains a pouch of valuable coins. and a very, very sharp dagger. The only other thing he ever wares is a heavy holster low on his right hip.
Occupation / Class: Part thief, part fighter (gunslinger), and part explorer. I guess the best description would be "drifter" or perhaps "bandit", though terms such as "Street rat", "Scum", and "Gutter trash" have been used in the past.
Accessories (weapons, jewelry, tools, magic items, vehicles, etc.): About the only thing he holds on to, aside from the aforementioned dagger and pouch of coins in his cloak, is the rather excessively large gun he keeps (a M'carrey Mak II special, according to the small inscription on the barrel) in the holster on his hip. The gun fires bullets that would seem more at home on a rifle, and produces tremendous recoil, enough that a standard human cannot fire it with any degree of accuracy. Though with Vodka's sturdy frame it's not really a problem.
The gun holds 10 shots in an old revolver-stile drum, and reloads by cracking in half... however the rest of the gun resembles a boxy autopistol. Having the gun pointed your way is very, very intimidating.
Pets: None
Abilities/Skills & Power Level: Vodka is a regenerative immortal, that is, he can physically be killed, but he will always recover. Knife wounds and such are painful, but will generally seal over and heal in a matter of minutes, less for stab wounds. Bullet wounds are next on the list, they take anywhere from seconds to hours to recover from, depending on where they hit and the type of bullet. Energy weapons, especially laser and plasma weapons that cauterize as they hit take the second longest to heal, days to weeks unless the wound is re-opened. Finely, lost limbs can be regrown, but it will take several days.
A note on pain: Though he technically immortal, the effects of pain are in no way diminished. Getting cut by a knife will hurt him just as much as the average person. The only difference is that Vodka knows that he will recover at a later date and has some experience handling pain.
As far as skills go, he is a capable thief, and a decent shot with the pistol.
Special Effects (if any): When angered beyond reason, or simply wanting to intimidate someone, Vodka can trigger a bioluminescent glow in his eyes - causing them to glow blue and throwing his face into sharp relief in dark environments. Scary to say the least, but almost totally ineffective as a light source to see by.
Curiously, magic generated by people, rather then devices, tends to bypass him completely, without taking effect.
Description of Personality: Friendly, roguish. He likes people in general, and tries not to hold a grudge. Arrogance is the one thing that really sets him off, and is likely to get one marked as a target.
Brief History: Vodka's parents were killed when he was around 8 years old - killed and skinned in front of him inside his own house as he hid silently under a couch. The three humans responsible searched through the house for him and eventually found him, shooting him once through the back of his head. Vodka awoke several hours later, to the smells of blood and smoke; the hunters had apparently decided to burn the house down. Somehow Vodka escaped, and dropped out of the public eye for several years (not easy to do with his unique coloration).
At around age 17 he made his presence known once more, deciding he wanted to be a hero. He took his skills with a gun and at finding "creative" ways around security and set to work defending any who he could. of course, one of the few things people hated more then Vodka's existence was the fact that a great many of them owed him there lives, consequently he was made unwelcome virtually everyware. Only a few `morph controlled cities allowed him entrance, some almost considering him a traitor to his kind.
By 19 he had had enough, and went rouge. Sort of a self-serving robin hood, robbing from the people he once tried to protect. The humans called it inevitable. as though it was all simply something that was meant to happen and nothing that they had been a part of. "After all, he is a fox, what did you expect?" became the prevalent attitude, resulting in a surprisingly high bounty being placed on his pelt. During this time he adopted the allies Vodka.
At 22 his past finely caught up to him, and he was captured and skinned. Approximately three minutes later, for unknown reasons, a magical surge enveloped him and dragged him into the dream. Still dead, but regenerative abilities intact.
To date, no one has been able to ascertain the source of Vodka's amazing regenerative abilities. and even Vodka himself isn't sure just how much they can heal, as he has taken very little physical damage, all things considered.
A brief and character revealing answer to the question, "What is your ambition?": It would be nice. I just wanna find somewhere I can life without havin to sneak around, where I'm not bein hunted for my skin. and where maybe I can start over, take a different path.
Newschool KICKASS Vodka
Name: Vodka. Anyone who knows otherwise is either offworld, or dead.
Age: 25 years old, give or take... no official records can confirm this, however.
Gender: Male. He's not exactly covering it up, ya know.
Species: Still a fox, though his ears DO look a tad wolfish. Perhaps a side effect of being a black fox...?
Height: After rather a serious growth spurt, he's gotten to around five nine. He's not completely coordinated at his new height yet, so expect a bit of stumbling.
Weight: Well now, with his new height, he weighs in at around 180 or so pounds. A good solid weight for someone nearly six feet... rather spry actually.
Build: The ever present badass, he's skinny and spry enough to be attractive, but tough enough to give as good as he gets in a fight. It's a delicate balance to be sure, but it seems to be working.
Fur: Black. Midnight black. The black that stems, not so much from lack of light, as lack of hope... the black of the deepest cave... the black of blindness... the black of getting your head stuck in a paint can, in the dark, in a cave. Erm, not that that ever happened... or anything...
Eye color: A deep blue, one that almost clashes with his fur... but not quite. It's a shade of blue that defies accurate description... it is, simply, blue.
Occupation: Following a rather severe defeat, he changed majors, as it were. He's gone from thief, to gunman. Not just a gunman, but a gunslinger. A rather specialized school of gunmanship primarily interested in shooting first, shooting well, and shooting last. Especially with revolvers, and other such short-guns.
Accessories: Starting with clothing...
Head: He wears a hat. A cowboy hat. A cowboy hat with a brim on it... The brim has been bent up on one side to let his ear free. Ah well, one ear free is better then none.
Torso: The coat... ah yes, the coat. It's a solid grey split-backed belted light trench coat. It's more in place to let him move about, but let him keep his arms hidden. Further, throwing it in an opponent’s face can be VERY distracting, as the light cloth can easily wrap around and try to stick.
The coat is always worn mostly open, with the collar up, and nothing under it. It doesn’t provide him with any real protection from the elements, as his fur does that job plenty well already.
Items and weapons:
On the coat, is mounted his handgun. A nasty little eight shot hand canon in a holster, attached to the trenchcoat's belt. On the inside right half of the coat, there is a strip of cloth... a mini-pocket, hidden from view. This pocket contains six speed-loaders for the revolver, each of which can be loaded in a matter of seconds for the well-practiced fox. Beyond that, he has a supply of loose bullets in the lining of his coat, adding a bit of weight to it.
The bullets in the liner take a bit of work to get to, but they're good in an emergency.
Up his right sleeve is a three shot derringer, loaded with short range explosive rounds. A weapon of last resort.
Other then that, he's got a lighter, a single meal for one, and a water skin tucked away in his coat... along with a knife. Other then that... well... maybe if he got a damn JOB, he'd have cash for extra supplies.
Abilities/skills: No immortality here, he's just a normal black fox with reflexes that would put a spider to shame, a reckless streak, and some great skill with his chosen gun. Beyond that' he's got a smattering of domestic skills, and an occasional hidden talent or two.
Other then that... he's got a great sense of smell, a spry agile frame, and well, his ears aren't just there for show.
Special effects: For starters, when his hat is off, his eyes reflect light from above in an odd glowing manner... rather unnerving, actually, which is why he normally keeps his hat on.
Due to the light material of his coat, it'll flap out behind him in even the lightest of winds, which can be used to great dramatic effect.
Personality: He's a bit of a bitter rogue, with a dash of heroism, and a sarcastic streak built right in. He really does try to act the part of the consummate badass... though he cares deeply for a few, very select people, and things... making the act somewhat more difficult. Still...
Affiliations: Well, he knows Keith... from both ends of the gun... and seems to be both his friend, and part-time nemesis. Yah, he's just cool like that.
Ambition: [This space left blank for future development]
Many MANY thanks to Quai for the help in creating the newschool Vodka, and even more for the art of kickass niftyness.
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