Post by COEHLO 'COE' PAIS on Jun 23, 2009 22:09:12 GMT -5
(COEHLO GIRAO PAIS)
"Masturbar-me-ia sobre a tua divindade,
Enrabar-te-ia se a tua fraca existência
Oferecesse um cu à minha incontinência;
Meu brao o coraçâo te arrancar
Para com o meu fundo horror melhor te penetrar."
[Marquis de Sade (1740-1814)]
"Masturbar-me-ia sobre a tua divindade,
Enrabar-te-ia se a tua fraca existência
Oferecesse um cu à minha incontinência;
Meu brao o coraçâo te arrancar
Para com o meu fundo horror melhor te penetrar."
[Marquis de Sade (1740-1814)]
( BREAK IT DOWN FOR US )
( FULL NAME )
- Coehlo
- Joâo
- Paulo/Paulinho
- Joachim/Quim
- Batista
- Brás
- Diogo
- Jose/Ze
He's had many aliases. He recycles the first name and throws in whatever surname he feels fits - if any at all.
( PLAYBY ) Edgar Ramirez
( CANON/ORIGINAL ) Original
( NICKNAMES ) Coe, Rabbit (his name translated - he likes to think he's funny)
( AGE ) 278 // looks to be in his mid to late twenties
( ORIENTATION ) Straight/Not interested
( BIRTHDATE DATE ) 04/06
( SPECIES ) Vampire
( POWERS ) Potence -- Not so much a power but an adaptation for survival; Coe's rather resilient
( EXPLAIN THAT AGAIN )
*NOTE: IF YOUR CHARACTER IS A WOLF OR SHIFTER, GIVE
CHARACTERISTICS OF BOTH HUMAN AND ANIMAL FORM.
CHARACTERISTICS OF BOTH HUMAN AND ANIMAL FORM.
( HEIGHT ) 6'2"
( WEIGHT ) 200lbs
( HAIR ) Dark Brown
( EYES ) Pale Brown
( PIERCINGS/TATTOOS ) None; he's fascinated by tattoos, though.
( SCARS/BIRTHMARKS ) His body is littered with scars
( ANYTHING ELSE WE SHOULD KNOW ) Coelho is a big boy and definitely has the 'intimidation' factor. His unruly appearance doesn't help.
( ONE MORE TIME )
( HABITS )
- Rarely speaks english to cattle unless it's conducive to getting a meal
- Has an affinity for fire
- Tends to be too impulsive for his own good
- He likes to 'play' with his food
- He doesn't discriminate when it comes to a meal. Whether it's human or alligators, it's still food
- Prefers the hunt over the kill
- Too independent for his own good (He meddles little in vampire society/politics)
( FEARS )
- Sunlight
- His time being up
- Hanger-ons
( LIKES )
- Food
- Fire
- Torture devices
- Cool, dark places (warehouses are his perfect haven)
- Hunting
- Mayhem
- Destruction
- Feeling like 'God'
( DISLIKES )
- Vampire affairs (politics/society - he's a lone wolf per se)
- Connivers/manipulators (Coe's a bit slow)
- Do-gooders
- Billboards and signs that lack pictures
- Modern technology
- Guns (they're best as props)
- Police/Authorities
- Bible thumpers
( SECRETS )
- Coelho is illiterate due to his upbringing (or lack thereof)
- He's the man to find when you want to take care of someone (dispatch)
- He's a twisted, sadistic thing
( BEST MEMORY )
- His Embrace -
He was in the prime of his life and he loves the fact that he will always be this way. He's also embraced the beast winthin and harbours no ill feelings for the one who turned him, who made him a 'monster'. He sees it as a gift. Life couldn't be easier now that he is what he is
( WORST MEMORY )
- His Embrace -
God it was painful. He had never endured a more painful experience in his life - and he'd had a rough one at best. He had wanted nothing more than to be dead, to be put out of his misery. And, on top of that, it nearly happened. His Sire had embraced him in the twilight hours and, once he was fully changed, his Sire had decided to 'test' him by leaving him in a place with next to no spots to hide from the sun. It was not a fun experience, but he made it.
( OK, NOW I GOT IT! )
( FAMILY ) Unknown
( FRIENDS ) Been and gone **
( PETS ) Attempted once, but they ended up being a meal
( HOMETOWN ) Setúbal, Portugal
** happy to plot and set up storylines
( HISTORY )
- In The Beginning -
The year was seventeen thirty and a young girl had just been given to an older merchant as a way for her father to make up for wrong doings. Unfortunately, a strange twist of events would lead to Coelho's conception.
The merchant passed away due to a atroke the morning after the two had consumated their marriage and, thus, all fingers pointed at the young girl, making her the scapegoat. It was made to be believed that she had killed him.
Due to this, the girl was returned to her angered father. And, in a act of rage and embarrassment, the father attacked and raped his daughter, later expelling her from his home, forcing the girl to live on the streets.
Once she realized she was carrying a bastard, an abomination, the girl turned to a convent since no amount of Hail Mary's or confessions could make it go away. She carried her burden for nine months before giving birth to the boy.
He would remain unnamed, the girl wanting nothing to do with something so wretched, and was thrust into the care of the sisters.
For the first portion of his life, he was known as Menino, or boy, and grew up within an impoverished orphanage. Portugal was in economic strife and, thus, the orphanage was not in a great state, making it easy for crafty children like Menino to escape.
And, thus, Menino found himself on the street.
( NOW, TELL ME ABOUT YOURSELF! )
( ALIAS ) Sho
( TIMEZONE ) EST Brisbane Australia (UTC/GMT +10 hours)
( HOW'D YOU FIND US? ) Le Chat Noir
( RULES WORD ) admin edit
( RP SAMPLE )
(( I've had this guy for a while.. this is an old post for him. I had to tweak him for that specific rp. If anyone is familiar with Vampire: the Masquerade, he's originally a city gangrel/gangrel antitribu/independent but, in this post, he's a Brujah since the rp was Camarilla-only. ))
Ché Vargas da Silva's arrival in Los Angeles had been nothing short of an epic experience. Not even a couple weeks in Mexico City could have prepared him for what he encountered once he set foot inside the city of angels. Massive sky scrapers, a myriad of cars of all shapes and sizes - most of which were disgustingly lavish, and the people who talked way too fast for him to understand what the hell they were saying. It was a huge culture shock and, although daunting, Ché was not the sort to let it get to him.. at least not the second time around. A massive challenge it was, Ché was ready for it - or so he made himself believe.
The first thing he did was seek out the Prince - like the good little Cainite he was - and then he was ready for business. Having arrived with a bit of an arsenal - he had little trouble getting it, or himself for that matter, past the border - he had done some research and sought out various pawn shops, trading in numerous hand guns, knives, and ammo for greenbacks, something that even now - a day later - still puzzled him. He had never encounter notes all in one shade. Initially, he had almost jumped the counter and bashed a man's head in when he first saw them, thinking he had been cheated out of a large sum of cash. However, having taken a second look at the money, he realized that it was he, and not the cowering hunk of flesh behind the counter, who was in the wrong.
With money in hand, Ché then moved onto his next mission: securing a nice, dry, dark place to spend his days. He found this in the warehouse district. A paradise in its own right as far as Ché was concerned, he set himself up in an seedy auto shop. By night, however, it would be Ché's castle. Sure, he had lived in nicer places, but this had all the toys he could ever ask for. And, if the current warehouse he was in didn't have what he needed, he could always do some shopping in the neighbouring buildings.
Haven, funds and meeting with the lead f*ckhead taken care of, Ché was now ready to move onto more important matters. Like finding a snack. Or blowing up a Mercedes-Benz showroom. Or plowing a car into the house of a prominent figure-head. The possiblities were pretty endless. But, for now, he'd focus on finding some food. And possibly something less dirty to wear - he had been in the same military fatigues, yellowed white shirt, and sleevesless khaki jacket for the past two weeks.
Exchanging clothes with an unconscious bum, he found the black tee and jumper to fit a bit snug since he still sported the same prison physique he had aquired whilst in Clairvoux - another wonderful perk that came with being Embraced as far as he was concerned - but the pants were baggy enough for him not to care.
Satisfied, his journey lead him to Kitty Rhino Gentlemen's Club. It was the second of its kind that he came across yet the first one was more of a hole in the wall than anything else. And, undead or not, no one wanted to be hustled by a tramp with saggy t*ts, a lazy eye, and a handful of teeth. But, of course, Ché hadn't come to the place for the 'entertainment', like eighty five percent of those in the establishment had. And he hadn't come for companionship, like the other thirteen percent had. No, he was one of the two percent who had come for a snack. The other guy happened to be at the bar sharing beer nuts with some dread-headed, tatted up, junkie dancer.
However, he did come here for the girls, and one rather bitchy looking thing with a really bad boob job had caught his attention. Ché reckoned she needed an attitude adjustment.. and he was just the guy to give her one. However, his striking, caramel eyes caught sight of a very young, and very out of place chinky eyed thing as she sauntered her way over to a table. Why did he find her so distracting? The fact that she was female was the first thing. He knew from experience - not that he made a habit out of going to places like this - that owners of lovely businesses such as this one did not look too kindly upon women being spectators. They were threats. Something that might distract guys from the girls on stage. But, then again, he was new to the city.. things could be different here, but he doubted it. Chalking her up as a tart - an all too nicely dressed one at that - Ché decided that she'd make a nice treat. A little skinny but there was an air about her that didn't sit well with him; he'd be sure to sort her out pretty quick once he got her alone.
Toying with the many things he could do.. and the many interesting ways he could spice up the feeding.. his thoughts were interrupted as a second girl entered and took a seat next to the one he had his eyes on. It was then those vivid eyes narrowed. Apparently, it was just this city..
Having been leaning against the table he was sitting at, one of the few positioned just beyond the reach of the lights, he straightened, arms remaining folded as they slide back to the edge of the table. His thoughts swerved and found a new direction as he plotted ways to make this all work. He didn't really need both of them...
Ché watched as they clucked away like chickens before bringing out pads of paper and turned his gaze away just before the blonde - or so he believed the colour to be judging by the shade of grey he saw - looked at him. His eyes started hunting for that other dancer again, the one with the n*ps that pointed up the the sky, and, finding her, he followed her movements as she sashayed from one patron to another.
Yet, something made him turn his attention back to the two girls. It was the blonde. She was looking right at him. So, Ché set his jaw, squaring it as he leveled his narrow-set eyes on her. It was a dispassionate gaze, one that the blonde would glean nothing from. But one that would, quite likely, unnerve her. Ché held her gaze until she looked away. 'Boa gatinha' he mused as she scribbled away, avoiding eye contact.
He quickly checked on miss n*ps' whereabouts before setting his gaze on the two girls again, noticing the hesitant look the blonde gave him that was, oddly, accompanied by a small smile. Poor thing lacked her danger sense.. Well, that could be fixed. Keeping his vivid gaze on her's, Ché lets a corner of his broad lips turn upward in something just short of a smile. A smug, crooked grin that wasn't meant to be all that inviting. Ché was all brawn.. and very, very little charm. He was use to doing things guerilla-style.. and his way of getting his prey was no different. He was built like a bloody great white and hunted accordingly, preferring quick, powerful, straight forward suprise attacks. None of this 'get to know their feelings' schmoozing and coaxing business.
However, it never hurt to try. And, afterall, he wanted the dark-haired girl's attention, not the one that had a mind to stare at him.
So, he slowly began to move, placing his chunky, military-style boots on the floor before standing and moving with the swagger of an angus bull towards them. Once he entered the reach of the light that sat above them, that blonde might start rethinking that little smile she gave him. No longer cloaked in shadows, his pale, olive-toned face was more visible - as were his scarred features. He was visibly weathered and had the nose of a boxer that had been broken one too many times. He was, obviously, a bruiser.
The first thing he did was seek out the Prince - like the good little Cainite he was - and then he was ready for business. Having arrived with a bit of an arsenal - he had little trouble getting it, or himself for that matter, past the border - he had done some research and sought out various pawn shops, trading in numerous hand guns, knives, and ammo for greenbacks, something that even now - a day later - still puzzled him. He had never encounter notes all in one shade. Initially, he had almost jumped the counter and bashed a man's head in when he first saw them, thinking he had been cheated out of a large sum of cash. However, having taken a second look at the money, he realized that it was he, and not the cowering hunk of flesh behind the counter, who was in the wrong.
With money in hand, Ché then moved onto his next mission: securing a nice, dry, dark place to spend his days. He found this in the warehouse district. A paradise in its own right as far as Ché was concerned, he set himself up in an seedy auto shop. By night, however, it would be Ché's castle. Sure, he had lived in nicer places, but this had all the toys he could ever ask for. And, if the current warehouse he was in didn't have what he needed, he could always do some shopping in the neighbouring buildings.
Haven, funds and meeting with the lead f*ckhead taken care of, Ché was now ready to move onto more important matters. Like finding a snack. Or blowing up a Mercedes-Benz showroom. Or plowing a car into the house of a prominent figure-head. The possiblities were pretty endless. But, for now, he'd focus on finding some food. And possibly something less dirty to wear - he had been in the same military fatigues, yellowed white shirt, and sleevesless khaki jacket for the past two weeks.
Exchanging clothes with an unconscious bum, he found the black tee and jumper to fit a bit snug since he still sported the same prison physique he had aquired whilst in Clairvoux - another wonderful perk that came with being Embraced as far as he was concerned - but the pants were baggy enough for him not to care.
Satisfied, his journey lead him to Kitty Rhino Gentlemen's Club. It was the second of its kind that he came across yet the first one was more of a hole in the wall than anything else. And, undead or not, no one wanted to be hustled by a tramp with saggy t*ts, a lazy eye, and a handful of teeth. But, of course, Ché hadn't come to the place for the 'entertainment', like eighty five percent of those in the establishment had. And he hadn't come for companionship, like the other thirteen percent had. No, he was one of the two percent who had come for a snack. The other guy happened to be at the bar sharing beer nuts with some dread-headed, tatted up, junkie dancer.
However, he did come here for the girls, and one rather bitchy looking thing with a really bad boob job had caught his attention. Ché reckoned she needed an attitude adjustment.. and he was just the guy to give her one. However, his striking, caramel eyes caught sight of a very young, and very out of place chinky eyed thing as she sauntered her way over to a table. Why did he find her so distracting? The fact that she was female was the first thing. He knew from experience - not that he made a habit out of going to places like this - that owners of lovely businesses such as this one did not look too kindly upon women being spectators. They were threats. Something that might distract guys from the girls on stage. But, then again, he was new to the city.. things could be different here, but he doubted it. Chalking her up as a tart - an all too nicely dressed one at that - Ché decided that she'd make a nice treat. A little skinny but there was an air about her that didn't sit well with him; he'd be sure to sort her out pretty quick once he got her alone.
Toying with the many things he could do.. and the many interesting ways he could spice up the feeding.. his thoughts were interrupted as a second girl entered and took a seat next to the one he had his eyes on. It was then those vivid eyes narrowed. Apparently, it was just this city..
Having been leaning against the table he was sitting at, one of the few positioned just beyond the reach of the lights, he straightened, arms remaining folded as they slide back to the edge of the table. His thoughts swerved and found a new direction as he plotted ways to make this all work. He didn't really need both of them...
Ché watched as they clucked away like chickens before bringing out pads of paper and turned his gaze away just before the blonde - or so he believed the colour to be judging by the shade of grey he saw - looked at him. His eyes started hunting for that other dancer again, the one with the n*ps that pointed up the the sky, and, finding her, he followed her movements as she sashayed from one patron to another.
Yet, something made him turn his attention back to the two girls. It was the blonde. She was looking right at him. So, Ché set his jaw, squaring it as he leveled his narrow-set eyes on her. It was a dispassionate gaze, one that the blonde would glean nothing from. But one that would, quite likely, unnerve her. Ché held her gaze until she looked away. 'Boa gatinha' he mused as she scribbled away, avoiding eye contact.
He quickly checked on miss n*ps' whereabouts before setting his gaze on the two girls again, noticing the hesitant look the blonde gave him that was, oddly, accompanied by a small smile. Poor thing lacked her danger sense.. Well, that could be fixed. Keeping his vivid gaze on her's, Ché lets a corner of his broad lips turn upward in something just short of a smile. A smug, crooked grin that wasn't meant to be all that inviting. Ché was all brawn.. and very, very little charm. He was use to doing things guerilla-style.. and his way of getting his prey was no different. He was built like a bloody great white and hunted accordingly, preferring quick, powerful, straight forward suprise attacks. None of this 'get to know their feelings' schmoozing and coaxing business.
However, it never hurt to try. And, afterall, he wanted the dark-haired girl's attention, not the one that had a mind to stare at him.
So, he slowly began to move, placing his chunky, military-style boots on the floor before standing and moving with the swagger of an angus bull towards them. Once he entered the reach of the light that sat above them, that blonde might start rethinking that little smile she gave him. No longer cloaked in shadows, his pale, olive-toned face was more visible - as were his scarred features. He was visibly weathered and had the nose of a boxer that had been broken one too many times. He was, obviously, a bruiser.
