Post by William Cavanaugh on Dec 27, 2007 4:02:01 GMT -5
Full Name:William Cavanaugh
Age: 19
Sexuality: Straight
Stereotype: Punk Rocker/Loner/Goth
Personality: He is a truly loyal friend 'till the very end. Once you have earned his trust it, sometimes unfortunately, takes a lot to break it. He would fight in an uneven disadvantaged bar fight with you, if of course, he thought you were in the right (which he generally does) and if he thought otherwise he would make sure you escaped unharmed no matter what. but you would get at least a smack upside the head later.
A total joker, and very rarely serious, you can always count on him to try and make something serious into something humorous. Even if it might be at the right time. That's just his bad luck and horrible timing catching up with him. He can very rarely string a group of sentences together without stuttering slightly, or mixing up letters, or even losing his train of thought. Simply put, his brain works faster then his mouth could ever dream.
But like any coin there is another side of him. He can get frustrated easily, and stay angry for a long time. Lately he has been going through bouts of severe depression that put him right on the edge of biting someone's head off. When you feel like shit for so long, you start treating people that way the moment they rub you just slightly wrong. He tries his best to avoid snapping at his friends, but at work it can sometimes slip through.
Appearance: 5'10" Dark Blonde/Slightly red hair, Blue/green eyes, about 160 pounds. Fit, but not super muscle-y. Generally wears jeans, not skintight or super baggy, but somewhere in between, and black band t-shirts, sometimes with long sleeve shirts underneath like thermals. He also wears leather bands, and studded bracelets. His hair is generally spiked with some sort of crazy color decorating the tips, sometimes multiple colors, and if nothing at all, he just wears a hat. A black Lamb of God hat, that is his favorite thing ever.
History: Born and raised in the rich part of a town where his mother couldn't even afford the poor side, he was always the outcast, the loser, and the kid without style. All the way up through the last two years of high school, he had few friends, his brother and only confidant had moved away, and his father might as well have been on the moon for all the interaction they had. Junior year he finally got back into music, playing the drums was his only escape. His only way to feel better. So he did it everyday from the moment he got home, till his fingers and hands were raw and blistered from the sticks. He started getting ideas of starting a band, a hard rock band. Something with a good complex sound. He wanted to have a lot of diversity. So he took up Taiko drum lessons, and then incorporated smaller, drum set sized versions of the vertical drums into his kit. Took all of his saved up cash from working to finish the kit. After meeting up with some people in his apartment complex who heard him play, he met a guitarist that went to his same school, and from there he developed a close-knit group of friends. Two of which became the best friends he had ever had. Senior year he played in front of his school a song him and his guitarist had created that had a sort of Dick Dale meets the Beach Boys in Wipeout sound. People asked him what Red hot chili peppers song he covered. His dreams of making a band grew even more. Then the time came when he was getting ready to move out on his own. His father suddenly showed up at his graduation handed him some keys said he was sorry, and disappeared again. The keys were to an old Toyota truck. After finding a place and a job in a city called Drakesville, he said good bye to his friends and mother and took off, all that he owned able to fit into that compact truck. Drum kit and all.
Image(s):
Age: 19
Sexuality: Straight
Stereotype: Punk Rocker/Loner/Goth
Personality: He is a truly loyal friend 'till the very end. Once you have earned his trust it, sometimes unfortunately, takes a lot to break it. He would fight in an uneven disadvantaged bar fight with you, if of course, he thought you were in the right (which he generally does) and if he thought otherwise he would make sure you escaped unharmed no matter what. but you would get at least a smack upside the head later.
A total joker, and very rarely serious, you can always count on him to try and make something serious into something humorous. Even if it might be at the right time. That's just his bad luck and horrible timing catching up with him. He can very rarely string a group of sentences together without stuttering slightly, or mixing up letters, or even losing his train of thought. Simply put, his brain works faster then his mouth could ever dream.
But like any coin there is another side of him. He can get frustrated easily, and stay angry for a long time. Lately he has been going through bouts of severe depression that put him right on the edge of biting someone's head off. When you feel like shit for so long, you start treating people that way the moment they rub you just slightly wrong. He tries his best to avoid snapping at his friends, but at work it can sometimes slip through.
Appearance: 5'10" Dark Blonde/Slightly red hair, Blue/green eyes, about 160 pounds. Fit, but not super muscle-y. Generally wears jeans, not skintight or super baggy, but somewhere in between, and black band t-shirts, sometimes with long sleeve shirts underneath like thermals. He also wears leather bands, and studded bracelets. His hair is generally spiked with some sort of crazy color decorating the tips, sometimes multiple colors, and if nothing at all, he just wears a hat. A black Lamb of God hat, that is his favorite thing ever.
History: Born and raised in the rich part of a town where his mother couldn't even afford the poor side, he was always the outcast, the loser, and the kid without style. All the way up through the last two years of high school, he had few friends, his brother and only confidant had moved away, and his father might as well have been on the moon for all the interaction they had. Junior year he finally got back into music, playing the drums was his only escape. His only way to feel better. So he did it everyday from the moment he got home, till his fingers and hands were raw and blistered from the sticks. He started getting ideas of starting a band, a hard rock band. Something with a good complex sound. He wanted to have a lot of diversity. So he took up Taiko drum lessons, and then incorporated smaller, drum set sized versions of the vertical drums into his kit. Took all of his saved up cash from working to finish the kit. After meeting up with some people in his apartment complex who heard him play, he met a guitarist that went to his same school, and from there he developed a close-knit group of friends. Two of which became the best friends he had ever had. Senior year he played in front of his school a song him and his guitarist had created that had a sort of Dick Dale meets the Beach Boys in Wipeout sound. People asked him what Red hot chili peppers song he covered. His dreams of making a band grew even more. Then the time came when he was getting ready to move out on his own. His father suddenly showed up at his graduation handed him some keys said he was sorry, and disappeared again. The keys were to an old Toyota truck. After finding a place and a job in a city called Drakesville, he said good bye to his friends and mother and took off, all that he owned able to fit into that compact truck. Drum kit and all.
Image(s):
