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Galen Zabat

0 · 234 views · located in Burns, Oregon

a character in “Just Believe Me”, as played by WaltJRimmer

Description

character guidelines
Gender: Male
Apparent Age: 50's or 60's
Race: Satyr
Eyes: Brown
Hair: He wears his dark brown, almost black, hair long to hide some of the more goat like parts of his face, such as his ears.
Height: 6' 4"
Build: Athletic but aging
Powers: He can play all pipes and many wind instruments as a natural gift, but is nearly entranced if any are played live around him as well as cymbals, castanets and bagpipes. When he plays music, it gives him the ability to nearly control certain, more susceptible, women.
Personality: When he was young, a long time ago, he used to be carefree and think life was all fun. Over the past few hundred years, he's aged and and grown slower, less energetic.

Galen has searched for the past seventy years to do what most Satyr do in their youth, have a child. Most humans are unable to bare children with them, which is one reason they found human seduction so fun in the early days. But with creatures like him being less and less common, he's felt the need to continue his line for a while now and hasn't been able to find anyone compatible. Recently, he's sunk into a depression and has basically given up and now spends most of his time in bars.

So begins...

Galen Zabat's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Stella Character Portrait: Celia Hunter Character Portrait: Randolph Tombs Character Portrait: Kim Sorrows Character Portrait: Galen Zabat
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"Making my way downtown, walking fast
Faces pass and I'm home bound
Staring blankly ahead, just making my way
Making a way through the crowd...
And I need you
And I miss you
And now I wonder
If I could fall into the sky
Do you think time would pass me by... ?
'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles
If I could just see you...
Tonight"


The music suddenly stopped as Stella got out, tuning the car off. She pulled the gas pump and put the nozzle in the gas tank. 29.99....39.99...$40, and stop. Stella took the nozzle out and closed the tank. Walking up to the gas station she pulled out her wallet.

Before giving the cashier the money she got herself a pop. Then she gave the cashier $43.50. She flashed a smile then walked out getting in her car and driving off. She still had 80 more miles before she reached Burns, Oregon. Stella turned the song back on and continued singing.

"It's always times like these when I think of you
And I wonder if you ever think of me...
'Cause everything's so wrong and I don't belong
Living in your precious me-mo-rys...

'Cause I need you
And I miss you
And now I wonder

If I could fall into the sky
Do you think time would pass me by oh
'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles
If I could just see you...
Tonight"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Stella Character Portrait: Celia Hunter Character Portrait: Randolph Tombs Character Portrait: Kim Sorrows Character Portrait: Galen Zabat Character Portrait: Victoria Annabeth Polari
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Cecila hummed as she tapped the wheel.
"Would you PLEASE stop doing that?" Kim groaned.
"Hey! I'm the driver here!"
"Ugh," She muttered.
Cecila grinned.
"When you can drive, you can't complain about me yelling at you!" Cecila grinned.
Kim sighed.
THe car made a loud creaking sound.
"What the-" Something hit the side of the car, making roll over.
"AHHH!" Cecila yelped. Kim was petrified. ONce the car stopped, Cecila opened the door and ran out.
"HOLY FrICK!"
Kim stumbled out of the upside-down car.
"You alright?"
Kim pointed to her knee and looked around. She put some ice on it.
Cecila stopped for a second.
Kim leaned back int a hotel bed. She grinned.
"I LOVE HOTELS!" She laughed.
"How's your knee?" Cecila asked.
"It healed. It only took a week,"

Cecila opened her eyes.
"Don't worry, it'll heal in a week,"
Kim sighed and waved her arms to passing cars.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Stella Character Portrait: Celia Hunter Character Portrait: Randolph Tombs Character Portrait: Kim Sorrows Character Portrait: Galen Zabat Character Portrait: Victoria Annabeth Polari
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Slowly moving down the dark streets of Burns, the demon, more precisely nightmare, that went by Dov moved as a silhouette. The way that he moved made him look like a shadow when one moved past the sun, changing position and angle, but never moving a single muscle.

He was rapidly changing between a colorless mass and his human form. He sought new prey, special prey. Something to haunt that was more rewarding than you average human. A small ripple in time had told him that many things that were not human would soon reach the town. From there, he could ruin their dreams, turning them into nightmares. The nightmares then created fear, the food of many 'harmless' demons. He was not like the others who fed on pain, suffering, anger, angst, death, and sorrow. No, instead he fed on fear, but only could he feed when his prey rested its fragile head.

So, the nightmare would wait, patrolling the city. The moment he would see something inhuman, he would lock on and hunt his prey.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Stella Character Portrait: Celia Hunter Character Portrait: Randolph Tombs Character Portrait: Kim Sorrows Character Portrait: Galen Zabat Character Portrait: Victoria Annabeth Polari
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Cecila stood up and waved her arms too.
"HELP!" She cried out, waving her arms vigorously.
Kim sighed and sat down.
"It's no use, we're going to be stuck out here!" Her contact lens fell out.
"Put that back in before people see your eye" She hissed. Kim quickly popped it into her eye, making it appear a brown color.
"There. No one is going to stop unless we run out into the streets!" She complained.
"Do you want to test that theory out?" Cecila teased.
"NO!" Cecila smiled.
"Just kidding! Either way, we're going to have to get a ride!"
Kim sighed and lazily waved her arms.
"SOMEONE! Help us!" Kim waved her arms and groaned.
Cecila sighed and out her arms down.
"Never mind, this is useless,"
"TOLD YOU!" Kim cried out.
They sat down glumly.
"Hopefully some driver will care enough,"
"You wish," Kim sighed and laid down.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Galen Zabat Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Galen sat at a dark bar. He nursed his Scotch whiskey on the rocks and looked around the room. It was dark, smokey even though no one was smoking. Probably the fog coming off Mahleur Lake. It helped complete the mood, the atmosphere of the place. It looked like the kind of place you went in right before you jumped off a bridge. There was a billiards table. There were two cues left and half the balls were missing, including the cue ball. The felt was worn and torn to the point where even if they had all the balls, it would be near impossible to play. The walls were stained from the years of smoking that had gone on. It had only been about two months since the state wide smoking ban was passed. You could still almost smell the tobacco in the air. The counter was stained, scratched and etched in to all the way from one end to the other. The dark, dull brown color scheme that seemed to be the resounding theme of the bar was enough to make anyone depressed. And to top it off, they didn't have anything else to liven up the place. No music, no games but the table, even the bottles all had dark liquids, no wines or light beers and they served pretzels as their bar food.

"I'll have one more and be off." Galen quickly downed the last of what he had and let the bartender refill it. The bartender was about the same age as Galen looked and had one of those faces. The ones that said, "I've seen a lot in my time and no matter who you think you are, I'm tougher and I don't want to hear it." He poured the whiskey over the ice and set the bottle back down under the bar. Galen took out his wallet and paid his dues. He thought about staying around for a while more. Maybe he would play a round of... something by himself on the table. Maybe see if he could make a ball jump the table by hitting a rough patch of felt. But he didn't feel like it. He didn't feel like anything. Maybe jumping off that bridge wouldn't be such a bad idea.

All of a sudden the old days hit him. When he was young, he'd go out dancing, drinking, flirting. He loved music and could become its slave if he wasn't careful. Oh, but it could be worth it. He used to spend all night dancing. Back in his days in Greece, at the balls of the Czars in Russia, debutante balls in the American south, tribal celebrations with natives from all around the world and more he couldn't even remember. He would party all night and the women would follow his every call. Then he would rest all the next day with whoever he chose. Whoever was the, "Lucky winner." But that was when he was young. He liked lively music. Graceful dances. Look at him now. Bill Nighy was probably more graceful than he was. He'd gotten old. If he tried to get out on the dance floor, he'd be a joke just because of how old he looked, regardless of anything else. That's what made him saddest. He'd never let himself really grow up and held to what he enjoyed in his youth. Now that was gone and what did he have? Nothing but a glass of scotch and not enough time.

He finished drinking and chewed up the ice. He said a standard farewell of some kind, he wasn't really paying attention, to the bartender, grabbed his hat and walked out the door. Suddenly a blinding light came from inside his head. Everything went white and his ears screeched. He stumbled, feeling his way along the wall into the nearest ally. No one thought anything of it. He'd just come out of the bar. Just another drunk. He sat down, soaking his clothes as he found the alley wet with... Something. He didn't want to guess what. He panted. The pain, noise and light all combined and made his heart race. What was going on? He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. The screeching quieted, but did not go away. The pain was just as bad but his heart calmed. He nearly fell asleep. The only thing was he still had SOME pride. He didn't want to be one of those drunken men passersby either pity or look at disgusted that pass out in allies. No. He could still live with himself so far, he knew for he was still alive. But he didn't think he could if he looked like that. So he pushed himself. He sunk his hands into whatever he'd sat in that reeked in eight different ways. Hey pushed to raise himself up. He began to rise and everything just gave out. His body went limp and he fell, unconscious with his head on a discarded bag holding a half eaten fast food meal. It was probably the only thing that kept him from drowning in the filth.