Member No.: 213
Joined: 9-March 12
connor randall st. james,
i feel no shame i'm proud of where i came from i was born and raised in the boondocks
born and raised in a farm in Georgia, began to hit the road in his late-teens with his brother to start hunting, staying based in the South but nomadic in nature now.
hey there, my name is zombie and I have been rping now for about 12 years. I am 23 years young and am in the central time zone, and the best way to reach me is through pm! I am open to mature threads as well so I am down for anything and everything muhaha
Connor's personality is not exactly the most friendly type. He doesn't take a lot of bullshit when things need to get done; he can play a good game when there is time for it but when things need to be done the gloves come off. He hunts freaking monsters for a living, what do you expect out of him? He likes being alone more than being around people in general; he generally operate better alone, though he can make an exception now and again for certain people. He was raised in a house that taught him that the strong survive; it rubbed off on him more than even he knows it did; his brother is the same way, but around each other it’s different. They tend to goof around a lot more, though it’s mostly smart-ass remarks and sarcasm, being wise-asses just to make each other laugh more than anything else. Sometimes you need to laugh to keep yourself from going too crazy in a world like this. It’s the little things that you have to enjoy, you know?
That being said, Connor does have his softer side. When he is attached to someone or feels for them in any way, he becomes extremely loyal and would do anything for them, even taking a bullet. Well, maybe not that far since he is a survival-of-the-fittest sort of person,but it is the thought that counts, right? He has a sense of humor once you get to know him; he might be rough around the edges, but he knows that a basic rule to keep from going insane in a job like hunting is to at least have some fun to keep what sanity you have. "Fun" could mean a lot of different things, however, and his sense of fun might count as a means of psychosis since he likes shooting things and laughs about it later. Then again, a good joke and some goofing off can do the trick too. It all depends on his mood.
Connor’s personality has not really changed in the last year. He is a man who does not like change and therefore he is very set in his ways, so he does not accept it or change very rapidly or often. He has, however, tried to work a little better in a group, though he is much better one-on-one than in larger crowds and when he has a job to do than just sitting around feeling awkward. He is now working with his brother too so he is getting a little more involved, but his people skills are still pretty lacking of anything you would call “proper” or anything near manners.
Born on a small farm in the boondocks of Georgia, Connor and his brothers sort of raised themselves. Sure, they looked after each other, but for the most part it was a survival experiment. With three older brothers waiting to kick the snot out of him and a dad that was married to the bottle, it was survival of the fittest, and when you’re the youngest, you sort of learn to toughen up or die. That sort of thing, he learned later, was not on accident; his father did it sort of on purpose to help Connor and his siblings later.
Connor's father was always gone when he was a kid. When he was home, he was drunk, loud, and annoying. They were all hit around a bit, but it was nothing they could not handle; after being around everyone else in that house a few extra smacks was nothing they couldn’t handle. His mom would step in when things got really bad, but she was usually too sick to do too much; still, one look from her and things pretty much calmed down.
By the time he was in high school, Connor's other brothers had graduated, and for the first time he was allowed to be himself. The St. James name was still around, though, so he never got to make a name for himself…not really. It was during this time that he learned where his dad went when he left all those times growing up…he was hunting. Connor and his brothers were all brought up to hunt deer and stuff, but this was different. Vampires, shape-shifters…monsters, basically. Stuff that as kids they were taught was fake was suddenly real and his father let him go with him. His older brothers had all been taken on hunts with their father and kept it secret; secrets had been a family tradition, it appeared. He was seventeen when he made my first hunt, and that’s when the bug was planted. He'e been doing it ever since, but the only difference is sometimes he goes alone and sometimes he goes with one of his brothers.
So why would he go hunting? Well, good question. The way he sees it, he could end up in a motorcycle gang like one of his brothers, but that never really appealed to him; his other brother has been in jail for five years for manslaughter when a drug deal went bad, and to be honest that never really seemed to be his calling either. He watched his father crumble under the strain of hunting for so many years; he turned to alcohol to help him cope and he was never really sane to begin with from what people tell me. His family was never whole to begin with but those monsters and creatures out there ripped out whatever seams were holding them all together, he grew to hate them for it more than anything, and he has seen other good people go down the tubes because of those damn animals out there. So he promised himself that he would make his living out of hunting them. It’s not much of a living and he doesn't get much glory out of it, but it’s something.
After he heard about the Apocalypse coming, Connor decided to clear out of the North where he had been doing some tracking and headed back down South where he was born and bred and where he was more comfortable, feeling that if they were all going to die he might as well die comfortable and on his own turf. So when the Apocalypse was averted, Connor remained down South, thinking he could do what he always felt like he wanted to do outside of hunt: open a bar and at least attempt a normal life.
It was during this time that Connor met up with one of his three older brothers, Zack. Connor had never been exceptionally close with his family; his father had been extremely abusive to all of his sons and his brothers had all been older than him by several years and had beaten on him as well, but he and Zack had always been the closest. He had not seen him in years, but they had kept in touch over the phone, using that as a way to help each other on hunts. They were the only two that had followed in their father’s footsteps and become hunters; their other two brothers were incarcerated in prisons for life with no parole, something they thought was good for them.
Connor and Zack bought a bar together and decided to run it, hoping to have a steadier income than hunting jobs and a place with a roof over their heads. Connor even got to keep his beloved cat and dog with him now, loving his animals more than he had ever loved any human since they had never hurt him. For a while they were living the dream, making decent money and eating a steady diet and knowing where they were sleeping that night. Then the itch started to form again. Connor knew after seven months that this dream of his, while profitable, was not for him. He was a nomad, not a serving boy. He needed to be out on the road and doing something, not sitting behind a bar serving drunks. He sold the bar, used the money to buy supplies and a truck, and to his surprise Zack wanted to go with him.
Used to operating alone on hunting missions, Connor was not sure he wanted to go with anyone, even his brother. When Zack informed him that he had sold his half of the bar as well, however, Connor could see no reason to tell his brother no. They were partners now, one way or another, and one extra set of hands along for the ride could not hurt. Blood was supposed to mean something, and kin was not something Connor had put much stock in before. Having Zack along proved to be valuable, though; for once Connor felt like he had someone he could really trust and like he had a friend instead of a world of enemies. The two act more like a pair of wild dogs together than civilized human beings, but seeing as they were raised like animals Connor supposes that it is a start.
He was tired. Tired from work, tired from drinking so much, tired from his little…hobby. It had been weeks since Connor had lost his control and struck, but he felt like he was still recovering. Did he feel guilty about what he did? Not in the least. He knew he destroyed a life, and that that life most likely had other lives attached to it and thereby he was destroying a whole series of lives around it by making one body disappear. In the grand scheme of things, though, he did not care. Not much, anyway. A body was a body no matter who it belonged to; eventually they all wound up in the ground as a pile of dirt for worms anyway. He was merely playing his part; his role just so happened to be that of the Grim Reaper. Well, so to speak. The day he actually became a reaper was a long one coming.
While those of his species advanced, Connor felt he had taken a step or three back. He could walk and talk with the rest of them; he was no baboon, and he knew how to play his part exceedingly well, but he was more primal and he knew it. He answered to his basic needs and usually little else. When he was hungry, he ate; when he was tired, he slept; when he needed something, he worked until he got the money and went out and got it or just took it, and when he needed sex, he went out and found it. Everyone complained that life was complicated and some great mystery that needed solving; Connor knew the truth: it was just one day after another, a sequence of events that had one need followed by another, then another, and you either answered to that need or you died. It all boiled down to a simple equation: you lived or died, and you made your choice.
Then again, he could have it wrong. He had always been far more animalistic in his nature than human. Maybe his rationale was as damaged as he was now; anything was possible. Sighing, Connor put the blade he had been sharpening down and picked the bottle of Jack Daniels up instead; it was not as sharp, so to speak, but it did have a certain bite to it that he favored in that instance. He had not showered in a couple of days, but that should not matter; he was upwind and his prey was going to go downwind as far as he could tell. His legs were numb from sitting so long and his bladder felt like it was about to burst, but he held it in; this was too important to interrupt simply because he had to take a tinkle in the woods and because his toes felt tingly. What he needed was his brother here to be the pusher or, better yet, the bait to bring this bastard into the open faster, but the hunk of meat and the fresh trail of blood would be a good enough decoy for now.
Movement made the muscles in his body tense. Slowly, Connor put the bottle down on a lower branch of the tree, balancing it there for later use. He picked up his crossbow instead and carefully drew the string back, nocking an arrow in the process with expert ease; he had been hunting in these backwoods since he was a small boy, after all. He knew these woods better than he knew any city, that was for damn sure. Nostrils flaring, he pulled the bow up and placed it in the ready position, narrowing his eyes as a movement and shadow darted past about ten yards away. Smirking grimly and waiting for the right moment, Connor pulled the trigger. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the arrow sped from the bow through the air and finally hit its mark; a piercing scream rent the air, and a moment later a crash which told him that his prey had fallen and his hunt was over. Lowering his bow, he could not help but mutter, ”Score one for humans, bitch.”
Member No.: 53
Joined: 15-June 11
Hello, I'm Arius, and first off I'd like to say that I really enjoyed this app. However, I'd like to see the personality expanded upon a little. We like to have at least two paragraphs or so. Once you get that taken care of, drop a reply and I'll have another look!