Faolan Moore

[r y n t h a e]

Name: Faolan Moore
Nicknames: Sometimes called "Lan" for short.

Age: 24
Race: Therianthrope
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Homosexual

Species: Wolf

Attributes: Enhanced strength and speed, sense of smell stronger than a humans, shifts into a bi-pedal lycan with no sense of control.

Appearance:

Faolan is primarily of Irish descent, and as such has very fair, almost translucent skin which freckles and easily burns in strong sunlight. His hair used to be light brown, with brown eyes, but in the fallout radiation, they changed to be silky blue-green locks, and striking fushia irises. He is slender, though well-definited, and stands at 5'10".

When not down, his hair is sometimes up in either a ponytail or a braid.

His shifted form possesses blue-grey, grey, and white fur, with the same fushia eyes.

Personality: Faolan is naturally very curious, and somewhat mischevious. He's very friendly, though, and prefers not to be alone. Before the fallout, Faolan was somewhat of a social butterfly, and loved being around people. Now that there aren't very many people to be around, and those that are there can't always be trusted, he cares even more for those he can call friends, and has become a bit over-protective of them as well.

His frustration at the changes to the world around him, and to his own body, he tends to take out on the Infected or any Scientist he runs across. His recklessness has only grown with the introduction of therianthropy into his system.

Faolan tends to be very feral in his shifted form, and rips apart anything perceived as a threat.

History: Faolan was a budding art school student when the fallout hit. His life before the radiation was seemingly perfect; he was a straight-A student and already semi-famous for his paintings, which he sold at local galleries to fund his tuition, in leu of a part-time job. His abilities were more than lucrative enough to support him, and his parents were so proud of them. They had hoped that he would go into law, like his father, but seeing him bloom as an aspiring artist with such success, each of them gave him their heart-felt blessing.

When the bombs fell, everything changed, though. He'd been showering, when they hit, and was knocked out by falling debri (including the curtain rod). When he came to, he was bruised and battered, and his condo was absolutely destroyed. Crawling through the wreckage, he managed to pull on a shirt and some jeans, and a shocked glance in the mirror showed that his eyes and hair had begun to change color in the wake of the radiation wave.

After re-orientating himself slightly, he made his way to his parents house to check on them. All of the phone lines and the power was out, and he wasn't able to get ahold of them.

Their house was more or less intact -- it had fared better than his condo, anyway -- but as he stepped inside, he saw his mother and father sitting at the table for breakfast, slumped over in death. The radiation had been too much; they'd died almost instantly.

The rage and grief that consumed him at seeing their death was what triggered the first shift. Screaming in rage and agony, his bones elonged, stretched, cracked and shifted, fur sprouting from his skin as his form became more lupine than human. He tore the place apart, his parents corpses untouched, before running out into the street. He kept running, until he no longer knew where he was, and crawled into an abandoned apartment building to take shelter, and since then has slowly tried to adapt to his new, and very different, life.