Description

Fletcher 'Fang' Hunt
Animal Form::Appearance

nickname: Fang
Ethnicity: Scandinavian
Birthday: February 14th, 1684
Age:Appears 17
Gender:Male
Originally From: London, England
Room Number: 33
Theme song:Broken Horses~ Freelance Whales
His roses:

Height: 5'11"
Weight: 150 lbs
Eye Color: Violet

Hair Color: Blonde
Build: medium
Tattoos/Piercings:
on the inside of his left wrist:
on the nape of his neck:
on his right ankle:
Scars: bullet wound scar on his right shoulder.
Clothing Styles: business attire/ business casual. i.e. clean lines, solid colors mostly jewel tones, black and white.
Skills/Powers: shape-shifting and immortality. he is an Empath and is Skilled in combat with swords, bows, guns etc.
Disorder: vampirism, OCD and neurosis
Species: ex-human, vampire
Phobias/Fears:
Atychiphobia- Fear of failure.
Catagelophobia- Fear of being ridiculed.
Philophobia- fear of love
Bad Habits: has a tendency to isolate himself.
Good Qualities: compassionate and sensitive and is a great listener.
Bad Qualities: he is pessimistic and has difficulty opening up to people, even if he wants them to know him.
Sexual Background: heterosexual he was with love of his life but she was ripped from him by circumstance and died before he could save her.
Likes: running, cooking, reading, hunting
Dislikes: disrespect, dishonestly, bigotry, egoism.

Personality

Personality:Fletcher is a quiet man. Not shy or timid just enjoying the silence.
He is often considered a recluse because he enjoys the wilderness and the solitude of long walks in the deep woods.
Fletcher is alert, insightful, and curious. He is able to concentrate and focus on developing complex ideas and skills.
Independent, innovative, and inventive, He can also become preoccupied with his thoughts and imaginary constructs.
He is sometimes detached, yet high-strung and intense. Fletcher has a tendency to become preoccupied with his visions and interpretations rather than reality.
He is fascinated by off-beat, esoteric subjects, especially those involving dark and disturbing elements.
He can become Detached from the practical world, a "disembodied mind" where he becomes for the most part trapped within his animal form.

History

History:
Fletcher was born to an upper middle class family during the late 17th century. He lived an easy life, free of monetary worry and hardship and not policed by the social policies of the aristocracy. He was sent to the University of Oxford to receive his education and to begin his life as an architect for the upper class. Late on the eve of his graduation, through the drunken celebratory haze, a mysterious stranger accosted him for help from the murkiness of the night shrouded streets of London. The pain and grief in the woman's eyes alarmed him and his curious caring nature compelled him to follow her. He remembered vividly the flickering of the small lantern he had held aloft before him as the strange hauntingly beautiful woman clasped the fingers of his free hand delicately in her ice cold fingertips. The farther from the safety of his home she drew him the dimmer the light seemed to get until finally near the outskirts of the city the flickering ember of the wick puffed out completely. She led him on a strange and terrifying journey to the heart of darkness and he returned a changed man.... a dead man... a vampire.

He continued living in a most conventional way, designing his buildings indoors with heavy velvet curtains blocking the sun. He examined his works only after dark. The night became his kingdom and he watched through the veil of the darkness as the city slept reveling in its midnight beauty. he drank to sustain himself aware of vampire community but never partaking in their seemingly barbaric bloodletting ceremonies. Soon his life fell into mediocrity and monotony and he seemed to fold in on himself becoming increasingly detached from the world around him. His buildings littered the London sky-scape and yet the impact was meaningless. He began to feed sparingly beginning to whither becoming a shell of the illustrious artist he had once been, but who was there to care? He watched from the shadows as his family and friends grew old and weak, slowly one by one blinking out of existence, their memory only marked by the gravestones he kept forever spotless. Tendrils of his signature thorny black roses adorn the graves, curling around the base of each headstone as if in a mockery of protection.

Fletcher or Fang, as he is known in his animal form is the cause for the legend of the Beast of Bodmin Moor when his strict diet of human blood became too much to handle and he switched to feeding in animal form on blood and flesh of livestock rather than humans. He is the phantom panther that roams the English moors.

So begins...

Fletcher Hunt's Story

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Setting

Dofrey Asylum, Canada

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#2011-12-06 06:06:18, as written by mistsong99

Fletcher stepped out of the black sedan his gaze traveling to the impressive building, it was certainly not what he had expected. The large man who had driven the car got out and roughly gripped Fletcher by the shoulder guiding him roughly towards the building. There was a short pause at the door as above them a camera swiveled to take in their image moments later there was a soft click and a long buzz as the door was unlocked briefly for them to enter. The guard shoved him forward into the white washed hall, he stumbled the two large duffle bags he carried swinging wildly at his sides. As Fletcher regained his balance he heard the resounding sound of a deadbolt sliding into place. The only thing he coiuld think was, Trapped.

He gasped for air as the guard turned to the reception to check which room the subject belonged in "32" cam the automated voice from behind the counter he sank down between his bags trying to stop the panic attack he could feel lingering in the edges of his consciousness. His breath came in ragged gasps as his mind began to wander away, he could feel his body beginning to tremble violently and could taste the blood in his mouth from his shifting teeth. The guard turned back to see the hollows of Fletcher's eyes become more pronounced their luminous gold beginning to swirl in with his normal violet creating a strange molten look.
"Sedation!!"The guard hollered slamming his hand down on a button by the reception desk window, deep within the building alarms began to sound as guards and doctors streamed from one of the rooms down the corridor "I NEED SEDATION NOW!!!" He bellowed seeing Fletcher's deteriorating state.
" It won't help, I can't be sedated... " he said his voice trembling with effort "which room is mine?" said Fletcher managing to hold himself together. The guard wasn't paying attention. Fletcher turned his half human half feline features on the guard and locked eye contact with him, "which room is mine?!" he said pronouncing each word slowly and evenly, there was authority in his voice now a tone that said he was not to be messed with.
The guard pointed down the hall, "last room on the left" there was fear and intimidation in his voice and posture. Without a backward glance Fletcher bolted down the hallway his bags in hand and was in his new room in 4 seconds flat.

Slamming the door shut, he dropped his bags moving into a clear corner of his room and curled himself into the tightest ball he could. He wished with all his heart for Andrina's calming touch for her love and support. His breath began to slow but the black spots in his vision only grew larger until his world fell to darkness.

---

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