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Errol King

"Immortality is fun."

0 · 710 views · located in Utopia NightClub

a character in “Club Utopia”, as played by CutUp

Description

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Clint Eastwood | Gorillaz | Jungle | X Ambassadors, Jamie N Commons ft. Jay Z | What U See Is What U Get | Xzibit





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{ Misnomer }
Errol Isaac Theo King
"Boss name right?"

{ Name Meaning }
Errol was not born with his current name. He changes identities roughly every 40 years. He chose his current name because he is a huge Errol Flynn fan, and his name basically says Errol Is The King. His birth name was Eli McLain, but hasn't gone by that in a very long time.
"Black might not crack but that doesn't mean people don't notice that I haven't changed in forty years."

{ Gender }
Male
"Dude, have you seen my pecks?"

{ Sexuality }
Heterosexual
"Now where some bitches at?"

{ Species }
Vampire
"I swear if one more asshole asks me if I sparky one more time.....I can't be held responsible for actions."





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{ Personality }

Errol has always been the life of the party, whether there is one or not. He is very laid back, and fun loving. He has very poor impulse control, and a addictive personality, a dangerous combination to be sure.

Errol loves being a vampire, because he feels that's it just one endless party, and doesn't mind having to feed off of others blood to survive. He is very narcissistic, flirty, and is just an all around ass. Although he does have his moments of being a genuine nice guy.

He's a pretty big nerd, loving movies, TV shows, comics, and games. In fact most of his aliases are based off of characters from movies, books, or TV shows, and sometimes actors.

He basically has no filter for his mouth, and always says what's on his mind without a thought. Sometimes he just blurts out nonsensical questions for no reason. And if he doesn't like something, he makes sure you know it. One thing he can't stand is bullies, and will become violently angry towards them.

Despite his fun loving ways he doesn't really trust people, in fact anyone who knows him actually knows nothing about his past.





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{ History }
The man that would become known as Errol was born as Eli McLain right after the American Civil War in 1865, in Louisiana. His was mother a former slave, and his father her former master. His mother raised him alone because as one might imagine his father wanted nothing to do with him. Eli kept his father's last name back then just to piss him off.

When Eli was 21 he had his first brush with the supernatural, he came across a old man being savagely beaten by a couple of men. Eli helped the old man and drove off his attackers. But little did Eli know, the old man was a vampire who was caught feeding on one of the men's daughter.

In gratitude, the vampire offered Eli immortality, to never be seen as a lesser man, and become so much more, but he conveniently left out the fact that he'd need to consume blood to survive. The vampire demonstrated his healing powers to show that he wasn't lying.

After a long talk with the vampire Eli eventually agreed, and the vampire feed him his blood. Once Eli became a fledgling, the vampire snapped his neck like a twig, killing him instantly.

After he was buried, Eli clawed his way out of his grave. The vampire who turned him was waiting in the graveyard along with Eli's father bound and gaged. The vampire informed him that he needed blood to survive and felt that it would be fitting that his father would be his first feeding. Eli agreed and ripped out his throat and drained him dry.

The vampire then formally introduced himself as Sebastian Cromwell, and took Eli under his wing as a protΓ©gΓ©. Through the decades Sebastian and Eli traveled the world. Eventually the two returned to the US during the thirties. During that time Eli did something that Sebastian warned him never to do, he fell in love with a human named Selena.

Sebastian did everything in his power to brake the two up, but always failed. Then one night when the two were alone Sebastian had enough. Sebastian just came up to the two and stabbed Eli in the chest, right in his lungs. Of course the only thing that did was freak Selena out. When Sebastian pulled the knife out the wound almost instantly healed, showing Selena that he wasn't human.

In her shock Sebastian did the same to her. As she fell to the floor, and began to die in Eli's arms he demanded for him to help. Sebastian said that he was helping, he was showing Eli that human life is fleeting, but they were eternal. This didn't set well with Eli, so he attacked his former teacher. After a fierce battle Eli killed Sebastian by ripping out his heart with his bare hands.

While looking over the death that laid before him, Eli came to realize something. His teacher was right. So after that day Eli decided to live his immortal life to it's fullest, and never be tied down to another person again.

So now in New York, Eli has been going under the name Errol for a few years now. When there is a party, Errol is never far behind. He frequents Club Utopia.





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{ Face Claim }
Brandon T. Jackson

So begins...

Errol King's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Magnus Bane Character Portrait: Ignatius Perrish Character Portrait: Rosalie Hart Character Portrait: Trevor Lawson Character Portrait: Dacey Bekam Character Portrait: Errol King
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The streets of Brooklyn were cold and dark that night, the only pedestrians out being the sort that knew how not to lose themselves in a twisting labyrinth of ever narrower, Stygian streets and alleyways. Utopia was waiting for them right around the next bend, forever roaming; the only constant in it's surroundings being the fat, impregnated moon peaking through thick cloud cover hanging overhead.

Magnus Bane's smalt hair reflected the changing neon colors of a human club sign: the words Ecclesia Peccatoris lined in Carmine red, Indigo blue, and metallic gold. This nightclub consisted of a big, tightly packed space that's bare bones resembled that of an ancient church, though that was from design for no church had ever been built on the corner of Amity and Court. Stained-glass windows rose high up in the walls, painting everything beneath them in hues of rose. Darting colored spotlights picked out the blissed-out faces of dancers in the churning crowd, lighting them up one at a time in shades of Amaranth pink, Harlequin green, and Mauve violet. There was a DJ booth along one wall, and trance music blasted from the speakers. The music pounded up through his feet, into his blood, vibrating his bones. The room was hot with the press of bodies and the smell of sweat and smoke and liquor.

He propelled forward, through the dancers; the mortal crowd seemed to part like the sea around the hull of a ship, people looking up to glance at Magnus, then dropping their gazes, backing away out of instinct though they knew nothing of his power or otherworldliness. Something was to be said about mankind and their intuition. On the far side of the room, there was an archway that all of the human club goers seemed not to notice or pay any heed to. Through it a set of stairs led downward, curving away into darkness. Magnus descended steadily, graceful and sure-footed, not worried about slipping on the age-smoothed stones. The air grew cooler the further down he traversed, and the sound of the pounding music faded. The only noise left was the sound of his own breathing, devoid of company save for his shadow thrown, distorted and spindly, against the walls.

The new music bled into his hearing before he ever reached the bottom of the stairs. It had an even more insistent beat than the music in the mortal club. A small cock-sure grin stretched across his face as he entered his Utopia.

Everything was stone, the walls bumpy and uneven, the floor smooth beneath his feet. Huge marble fountains sprayed sparkling water; Electric blue rose petals drifting on the surface. Explosions of color and light burst like cherry bombs throughout the room, nothing like the artificial light upstairsβ€”these were beautiful, effervescent like fireworks that floated on the air, and every time one burst, it rained down a glittering shimmer onto the dancing crowd below. The dancers themselvesβ€”whirling and spinning and clappingβ€”none of them were human.

Even a mortal would be able to sense the nonhuman-ness of the people in the room, the vampires with their pallor and their swift and languid grace, the werewolves fierce and fast. Most were young, dancing close, writhing up and down each other’s bodies. Another explosion of colored light lit up the darkness above them. Metallic drops rained down; catching in their hair and shimmering on bare skin like mercury. Magnus swiped at the silvery liquid that mixed with his hair and skin, painting him in metal as he watched the elated crowd with darkened eyes. The faces of the dancers around him to any human might look vulpine and faintly frightening, but to him they were just darkly beautiful. They were venerable and entranced. The platinum droplets were a mild hallucinogenic, the effect being like that of a cross between ecstasy and mushrooms if it got into your mouth. It was something he had whipped up with the use of some Fae blood, charitably donated of course to cover some old debts owed to him by a Fae lord.

Magnus drew toward one of the fountains in the middle of the room, and sat down on the wide marble edge, leaning over and studying the smooth dark surface of the pool. He could see his own face reflected back at him, his normally yellow cat irises turned an array of fractured colors by the peculiar light in the club like the bright pieces inside a kaleidoscope, his eye makeup smudged like bruises, his hair artfully unkempt. The water shivered apart, his reflection distorting, unrecognizable, the surface broken by a kelpie serpentinely smiling up at him. They were small, and could easily fit in the palm of your hand if you desired to scoop one up...but Magnus knew better, they were all shark sharp grins and razor teeth and like pixies, they had quite the temper. She had an upper body that resembled a human's but her lower half was like that of a seahorse. The incandescent creatures hair spun around her like the filaments of luminous jellyfish as she played with one of the floating blue rose petals, dancing with it like it was her partner.

Magnus turned from her as she swam away and leaned back, his hands braced behind him on the fountain’s edge, his smile like the edge of a straight razor and devilishly wicked. He had done well with his choice of setting tonight, he was pleased with the over all effect. Another ball of colored light burst above his head, scattering silver, drops of the metallic liquid spangling his thick eyelashes. He decided to remain there and study the moving crowd for a short while, watching couples of twos and threes vanish into the shadowy alcoves that lined the walls. There were dozens of these circular alcoves, some armed with small loveseats in a lovely deep shade of royal blue, others with circular velvet beds but they all provided the clubers with a heavy curtain that could be pulled closed to provide a modicum of privacy. It also succeeded in discreetly muffling the pounding music outside, though by no means did it make it inaudible. He felt a pang in his chest, a stab like a knife being drug against the insides of his rib cage. How many years had it been since he had taken a lover? How long had it been since he slunk away to the nearest hiding place so that he might just steal a second alone with someone? A warlocks curse was, you either outlived everyone or they lived just long enough to distort themselves into something unrecognizable.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trevor Lawson Character Portrait: Errol King Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by CutUp
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Trevor rode on his motorcycle through Brooklyn with a small scrap of paper in his right hand with the words 'Ecclesia Peccatoris corner of Amity and Court tonight. Look for the arch inside!' written on it. Trevor's focus moved from the paper, to the street signs, and back to the road ahead.

Trevor finally found the address, and parked his bike nearby the club's entrance. He looked around at his surroundings, and let out a displeased sigh. He hates being in big cities like this. Too many people, too many strange smells, too many loud noises, and most of all too cramped. Give him the wide open spaces of the country any day.

He isn't much of a party animal either. Preferring the peace and quiet to the loud thumping music, and moving bodies of clubs. Trevor took a deep breath in and exhaled. This was the first step in finding his birth parents, something he's always wanted, but still it's a hard step to take.

Trevor entered the human club that concealed the supernatural inside. All he needed was one step in the door to really realize how much of a fish out of water he really is, how out of place he was. The young wolf ran his fingers through his long, greasy brown hair, pulling it back behind his ear as he scanned the room for the archway.

Bingo. Once Trevor spotted it he made his way through the crowd. "Sorry. Excuse me. Pardon me." Trevor said as he weaved between the clubbers, he is a gentleman after all. Once he reached the archway, Trevor straightened his jacket and shirt before he entered.

After a bit of a climb down the stairway he finally made it to the real club Utopia. As he entered he felt even more out of place. Trevor caught some of the metallic liquid that rained down from the ceiling in the palm of his hand. He sniffed at the substance out of curiosity, and was tempted to have a taste before he realized that it's probably not the best idea to be tasting strange metal liquids that fall from the ceiling.

Errol exited the taxi cab that drove him to Utopia's current location. Errol took out a couple of hundred dollar bills and tossed them at the cab driver. The vampire sighed and a big devilish grin crept across his face. "This is gonna be a fun night!"

Errol made his way through the crowded cover to the real club. His eyes darted around at the crowd. The buffet of flesh was almost mouth watering. 'Easy tiger. Plenty of time for the buffet later.' he thought as he walked through the archway and into the real party.

"What's up party monsters?! No need to worry! THE Errol King has arrived!" Errol yelled out, announcing his presence.
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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rosalie Hart Character Portrait: Trevor Lawson Character Portrait: Errol King Character Portrait: Seth Sykes Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by CutUp
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Trevor looked around at the patrons of the club, trying to find a werewolf or someone who could help him track one down. Between the hustle and bustle of the clubbers and the music, he couldn't focus on observing whether they're a werewolf or not. "I'm so out of my element." The young wolf sighed to himself.

He was about to go around and awkwardly make small talk with a bunch of strangers in the hopes of getting lucky and finding someone who could help him, but then some very pretty woman came up to him.

"Huh?" Trevor looked behind himself to make sure she wasn't talking to someone else. "Umm, yeah sure. I'm in a club aren't I?" Trevor said as he took the drink from her hand.

"Thank you very much miss." He then flashed her a warm smile. "Oh, my name's Trevor. Trevor Lawson." He introduced himself.

"Yeah, Clubs aren't really my scene." Trevor said as he took a big swig of the drink she gave him. "I'm not much of what you'd call a social butterfly."

"Oh right!" Trevor said when he remembered what he was there for. "You're the bartender right? Maybe you could help me?" Trevor said as he took off his necklace and showed it to the woman. "I'm looking for someone. Well some-two hopefully, but someone is fine too."

"I'm looking for my birth parents. I'm 100% purebred werewolf, so my parents must be werewolves too." Trevor explained. "I was left on the steps of a church when I was baby with only this necklace. Yeah it's pretty cliqued I know."

"Anyways I heard Brooklyn's a hot spot for things that go bump in the night. So I thought coming here would be my best bet to find them, or at the very least a clue." Trevor went on. "So, do you recognize it?"

"If not, could you point in the direction of someone who can?"
Trevor asked as he took another big swig of his drink. "Oh, I've got one more thing to ask you before I stop bothering you. Do you know of any cheap hotels around here?"

"I'm sorry for talking your ear off."
Trevor apologized.

Errol flowed around the club like a gust of wind, never staying in one place. He would spend a few minutes with a couple vampires, and then he'd move on to a few faes, and then to everyone else.

He started dancing and grinding around with just about any female he saw. But he got bored after awhile. He scanned the room to look for a empty table, or at least mooch off someone.

He found one with just some guy in it. Perfect. Errol grabbed a couple of drinks off of a tray that a passing by waitress was taking to a table. Errol started chugging one of the drinks as he arrived at the booth.

Now that he was up close he could see that the guy's a werewolf. Well that's a bit problematic, most wolves don't really like vampires. It's pretty stereotypical.

"S'up dude?" Errol greeted as he just sat down and spread himself out on the booth. "Don't mind if I sit here right? Didn't think you would." Errol said, not giving him a chance to answer.

Errol slid the other drink he grabbed towards the werewolf, as if that would pay for him to sit there. "Name's Errol Isaac Theo King. Or Errol Is The King. I quite like that." Errol said with a sly grin as he took a sip of his drink.

"You're a werewolf right? Of course you are, you're hairy enough to be one. I've got a question for you. Do you like ever wolf out when you're asleep?" Errol asked. "No wait! What about when you're screwing?"

"Wait, when screwing does that count as bestiality?"
Errol wondered. "Or does that make you a furry?"
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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Errol King Character Portrait: Seth Sykes Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by Cloud

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Seth is pleased to be able to have a moment to himself. Even in the crowded club it's nice to know that one can tuck away in a booth and escape the crowds for a moment. It has given Seth a chance to straighten his mind, letting his thoughts and emotions fall back to their default setting. He is still slightly unsettled by what did occur on the dance floor, mainly because even now after the event he has no idea what caused it. With a sigh he sinks further into his seat, closing his eyes briefly. He promises himself that when he sees Kieran again he'll ask the Fae if he has any idea what happened. Seth's eyes flutter open at the realisation that he is intending on seeing Kieran again. He hadn't been 100% committed when he had agreed earlier, but finds as he mulls the thought over in his mind that he will seek out the Fae. It is oddly out of character for the werewolf, but perhaps it is simply Isla's influence finally rubbing off on him.

Seth's mind drifts away from the club, only to be brought abruptly back to the present by the arrival of an unwelcome guest. The dark skinned intruder breezes in without a care, ignorant or uncaring of Seth's presence. If it isn't bad enough to have his space invaded by a stranger, what makes this worse is that the stranger in question is a vampire. Call it stereotypical if you like, but there is a reason the two species do not get along. Seth's nose wrinkles as the sense of death drifts towards him and he feels his hackles raising. His body tenses as he slowly turns hostile eyes on the dead man. Worse yet, the vampire also seems to be one with no filter. Seth's fists clench as the vampire launches into what can only be called irksome dribble. Seth's irritation is growing by the second. He waits quietly, seething as the vampire continues, willing him to realise his mistake and leave quickly. His wish seems fated to fall short though, as the vampire shows no signs of leaving or even stopping talking.

Eventually, the vampire's words cease, although Seth is sure if given the chance he will start up again.
"Have you finished, leech?" Seth growls, his voice lacking any semblance of friendliness. "You are not welcome here. Go bother someone else." He pushes the offered drink back towards the vampire, resisting the urge to throw said drink at the blood-sucker. His eyes have subconsciously turned red, a clear warning in itself if the vampire chooses to ignore Seth's words. But surely one would have to be blind or exceptionally dull-witted not to see the threat in Seth's body language.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Errol King Character Portrait: Seth Sykes Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by CutUp
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Errol chuckled at the werewolf's attempt to scare him off. "Yes, yes you're very terrifying. I'm sure your parents are very proud." He smirked with a asshole grin plastered across his face. Errol continued to sip on his drink. "So this is where we start the typical werewolf/vampire rivalry. Come on, come on, come on dude. Do we really need to do this?"

"Isn't 'Dracula vs. the Wolf-man' getting a little old?"
He asked the werewolf. He was genuinely tired of the werewolf/vampire hostilities. "Let me drop some knowledge on you. Life my fuzzy friend is precious. Too precious to waste it on hate. Believe me, I'm talking from experience."

Errol finally finished his drink, and looked the werewolf straight in the eye. "So go find yourself a good drink, and someone you can stomach to be around, and never think about tomorrow." Errol stated as he eyeballed the other drink. "But not that one. I'm still thirsty." Errol said as he grabbed the other drink.

Errol opened up the bottle and started chugging it. "So what's your name Fido?" Errol asked as he sat the drink down. "Man I'm bored. Yo, be my wingman. I'll get us some bitches. What'cha into? Blondes? Gingers? Dudes?" Errol asked, not even caring whether he wanted to around him or not.

The setting changes from Brooklyn, New York to Utopia NightClub

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Magnus Bane Character Portrait: Ignatius Perrish Character Portrait: Rosalie Hart Character Portrait: Trevor Lawson Character Portrait: Dacey Bekam Character Portrait: D. Hugo
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The night bled into day as all the creatures intermingling in the underground club partied well into the morning hours. Ignatius Perrish discovered he had made an unusual contact in the form of a nymph, and left the bar not feeling quite as dejected as he'd of had had he made no acquaintance. Any new contact was a step in the right direction on the search for his family's killer, and if he was being completely honest with himself, he felt a tad less lonely having shared the evening with someone other than his guilty conscience--even if it was only for a short while and at the expense of his coat.

Magnus Bane had spent a socially acceptable amount of time with the ever incorrigible Mr. Bekham before he concluded his own night on the dance floor and ventured into one of the many sealed doors in the backroom of Utopia where a king bed rested with proverbial open arms, waiting to envelop the warlock, inviting him to sleep. Exhaustion weighed heavy on him that evening, more so than it had in a millennium and it had nothing to do with his vigorous dancing. So many questions that vampire had posed, all about Magnus' solitary life style. It felt as if Magnus was made to poke his tongue over a hole where a tooth had once been, reminded of it's absence in a sore fashion. He flopped on the mattress with a doleful sigh, surrounded by a mountain of feathered pillows and lost in the rolling waves of his crimson downy duvet he finally found rest.

There had been heated arguments and passionate elicit exchanges made in Utopia that night, but then again their always were. This was not a place of quiescence even if it acted as some sort of haven to the supernatural society. As the elated and blissed crowd funneled out into the streets with twilight blossoming overhead, dawn fast approaching, there was a sense of excitement over what the next night would offer up. The club would be of a different theme, as it always was, and be in a new location; ever changing like the fads and times around widely the immortal beings. One thing was for certain though, there would never be a dull moment if the High Warlock of Brooklyn was throwing a party. What sensation wasn't plaguing the lascivious clubers however, was the impending sense of doom...they had no idea what was truly just around the corner and what it had in store for all of the mystical creatures of New York.