Rurik "Fox" Rudakov

[brianalunsford]

Rurik Yakovitch Rudakov

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“I'm just like you. I'm made by He, despised by They; I'm almost me! I'm nearly human! Pity me, I'm almost a human being...”[/center]



NAME:[/color] Rurik "Fox" Yakovitch Rudakov

APPARENT AGE:[/color] Early-mid twenties

REAL AGE:[/color] 26

GENDER:[/color] Male

SEXUALITY:[/color] Heterosexual

RACE:[/color] Fox-man

SIDE:[/color] Neutral

CANON OR ORIGINAL:[/color] Original

i'm creeping my way out
so you can see me

HAIR:[/color] Fox has sandy blonde hair, long to the point of needing a cut but not long enough to be considered “rocker” length. His bangs fall into his eyes, and constantly have to be brushed away.

EYES:[/color] His right eye is a deep green in color, while his left eye is dark, blood-red. His eyes are expressive, and often key to reading his mood, if he's in human form (in halfway form, just watching his ears and tail will suffice).

HEIGHT:[/color] 5'8" (in halfway fox form) / 6' even (in human form)

BUILD:[/color] Slim to the point where ribs are visible, if his shirt is off.

DISTINGUISHED BY:[/color] He has a tattoo of a dragon curled around a fox's paw on his upper right arm. He claims it's the "sign of his house", but really he just likes how it looks.

PREFERRED PLAYBY:[/color] Dominic Monaghan

FULL DESCRIPTION:[/color] Fox is relatively short, and thin as a rail in both forms, often being told that he needs to eat more. He has sandy-blonde hair in his human form, which darkens to dishwater blonde in his halfway, “default” form. His eyes are always mismatched, the right one being red and the left one being green, even in his completely fox form – that's how he can be told apart from normal foxes.

His halfway form is smaller then his human form. In it, he has the large ears and the bushy tail, and his face is halfway between snout and normal human shape. His entire form is covered by orange fur, with creme-colored markings around his mouth and on his chest, and darker, near-black markings on his legs and the tips of his ears.

Fox has an old, beaten, worn-out brown coat he brought from Russia that he wears all the time in the winter. It has what he calls “pockets from Hell”, which basically means he can shove a lot of things in his pockets and no one can ever tell the difference. The coat is long, and falls to his mid-thigh.

i'm crawling my way
round a thousand cities

PERSONALITY:[/color] Fox is a very calm person. He tries his hardest not to overreact to anything, or to get angry when he shouldn't. Unfortunately, though, he has a temper, as much as he hates to admit it; if he gets angry, he gets angry, and he is fiercely protective of those he dubs family or friends. He attatches to people easily, despite the solitary nature most real life foxes take. He truly seems to have a pack mentality going in his mind; he needs to be around people, needs to be able to talk to people, or he becomes uncomfortable and slightly depressed. This discomfort with being alone has becoming worse as the years go by, fueled by the death of his father and the deaths of his wife and children.

He really, truly hates the "beast" he sees himself as, but he has always been good with hiding this; and most of anything about himself, really. Fox does not speak much, and does not reveal much, even if he seems like an open, nice person to most people he speaks with. And this is how he always projects himself: open, and nice. Though it is true that this is his normal nature, it can be a bit jarring to some when he acts this way with someone he's about to kill. Fox really and truly loves to laugh, and jokes with both friends and strangers.

Beneath everything, he's actually quite broken; when he's upset, he loses his appetite, and because of this he is almost unhealthily underweight. If left alone for too long, he has flashbacks and nervous breakdowns.

GOALS:[/color]
-Surviving
-Keeping his mind off of his past
-“Redeeming” himself
-Learning to read English
-Avoiding his family

FEARS:[/color]
-That the man he killed isn't really dead
-Being alone
-Being around people he doesn't know (goes along with being alone)
-Killing someone again
-Bears

LIKES:[/color]
-Children
-His friends
-Running in fox form
-Vodka
-Snow
-Dogs
-Banya! (Russian steam houses)

DISLIKES:[/color]
-The heat
-Hangovers
-People talking about or asking him about his family
-Going to Russia, as much as he misses it

you all stop and stare
i don't need your pity

TITLE:[/color] N/A

JOB:[/color] Performer at the Cirque. He likes to work with dogs, as he can “speak” to them in a way, but just showing off his foxy (*shot*) self can work wonders. His performance changes based on his own and Mr. Tall's moods.

DATE OF CHANGE:[/color] N/A

ABILITIES:[/color] Can transform into a Middle Russian Red Fox and back; is stuck in the halfway form as a "default". Has heightened senses as a side-effect of his shifting, and is about three times as strong as any normal person of his height and weight would be. Can communicate (not actually "speak", in the normal sense of the word) with most canine animals.

i'm living my life in this hell

COMMON KNOWLEDGE:[/color]
It's best not to joke about Fox's parents, even lightheartedly – it's taboo in Russia to joke about the parents, so “yo momma” jokes don't fly around him. He's a huge partyer around the holidays and doesn't do much work when they're near (another Russian custom).

SECRETS:[/color]He hasn't seriously opened up to anyone, so no one knows anything about his past other then the fact that he's Russian (which is a given to anyone who meets him, because of his accent and broken way of speaking).

HABITS:[/color] speech dissolves into even more broken English and then full-on Russian when he's agitated or highly emotional. Makes actual fox noises sometimes.

STRENGTHS:[/color]He's very good at laughing things off, if he's calm enough beforehand. He can hold his alcohol, if that counts as a strength at all. Fox is good at talking without saying much of anything, and comforting the “broken” type of people – he's naturally gentle, even if he doesn't seem to think so himself.

WEAKNESSES:[/color]His eyes make him stand out in a crowd, as does the fact that it is literally painful for him to stay in his fully human form for more then an hour at a time, and impossible for him to stay in his human form if he's highly emotional or injured. Can be killed and injured, just like any normal human being. Can't read English, and speaks a garbled version of it. Has nervous breakdowns and flashbacks if forced to be alone for too long.

now i'm crawling away
cause the stress has killed me

PARENTS:[/color] Yakov Rudakov (deceased); Natalia Rudakov

SIBLINGS:[/color] Mikhail, Boris, Natasha, Viktor, and Liliya Rudakov

RELATIONSHIPS:[/color] Widower of Evelina Rudakov; now single

HISTORY:[/color] Rurik Yakovitch Rudakov was born to Yakov and Natalia Rudakov in Moskva (Moscow), Russia, twenty-five years ago, soon to become the oldest of six children. He had a happy childhood, even if he was bitter some of the time; he loved his father, and was obviously his father's favorite, but Yakov had a job in the Russian military and was often away from home. When he was home, a lot of his military buddies hung around him. Rurik grew up seeing his father's friends almost daily, and grew to know them like his own family. His powers manifested when he hit puberty, at around age twelve. They were an almost identical copy to his father's own; both were foxes, Rurik was just a lighter orange then Yakov was.

In his teenage years, he was a favorite amongst the girls at school, but there was only one girl he ever payed any bit of attention to: Evelina Smirnova, a smart, but quiet person with whom he shared a few classes. They began dating when he was sixteen.

One night, when Rurik was seventeen, his father was late coming home, and he was sent out by his mother to go get him. When he arrived at his father's work place, he stumbled upon what was, quite possibly, the most traumatic memory he has to date: his father, lying dead on the ground, with the man Yakov had considered his best friend standing over him. Rurik fled, and his father's "friend" did not even know he had seen.

A few nights later, Rurik went to confront the man; no one else knew it was him who had done it. The man invited him in for a drink, which turned into two drinks, which turned into a whole bottle, all the while chatting with Rurik and subtly taunting him about his father's death, still not knowing that it had been witnessed. Rurik's anger built up and built up, until, finally, he could take it no longer, and he attacked the man, strangling him to death and screaming at him until his skin underneath his fur was red with rage. As soon as he came to his senses, he was horrified at what he'd done, what he'd become, and ran from the scene.

He ran to Evelina's home, asking her, begging her to elope with him, and to run away to America with him. Though she was confused, and somewhat frightened, she agreed, and it was only two days before she and Rurik were bound for Chicago.

In Chicago, Rurik and Evelina had to scrounge to survive. Using the information on weapons and fighting he had gotten from being raised by a military man like his father, Rurik took on the street name "Fox" and began to turn to crime to make a living. At first, it was simply pickpocketing, or stealing items and then hocking them on the street. But soon, he became a bit of a gun-for-hire, or a spy-for-hire; after all, he was both an immigrant and a mutant, and nobody payed any attention to him. It wasn't hard to conceal himself and get information for whomever requested it, or to kill someone without being detected. He made enough money for his new wife and himself to survive, and he was content with his life.

It was when he was nineteen that Evelina became pregnant, and he was overjoyed with the news. He had always wanted to be a father, ever since he, himself, was a child, and now that that was coming true... Well, it wasn't hard to see why he was so happy. He made sure to take even better care of his wife. But it wasn't to be. Evelina was expecting twins, and she had always been a sickly thing. Neither she nor the babies made it through birth.

If his father's death had been the first turning point in Fox's life, the death of his wife and children was the second. He was scared, and he was more alone then he had ever been. He could not return to his family in Russia, and now he had no one to really tie him to America. He couldn't stand the sight of his and Evelina's apartment any more, so he moved out. He couldn't stand the feel of Chicago, so he left it, and wandered for a long, long time. It was when he found the Cirque, two years ago, that he finally found an inch of peace.

i feel like i fell
from a ten-story building

NAME/NICKNAME:[/color] Hannah

AGE:[/color] 16

EXPERIENCE:[/color] I've been roleplaying around 8-9 years

OTHER CHARACTERS:[/color] Nyet, none

TIME ZONE:[/color] US Central Standard Time

RP SAMPLE: [/color]((This is from another roleplay site, and it's a different character; I hope that's alright. Don't worry, my posts don't normally get this long. This one was just from a one-post thread and I liked it.))

---

Quiet. Calm. Secluded. This place was beautiful; perfect, even. This clearing so deep in the forest was only dappled with golden sunlight, the trees and grass filtering everything so it was mostly a mossy green in color. As the fragrant aroma of weeds and flowers his his sensitive nostrils, he couldn't help himself as the word "perfect" crossed his mind once again.

Even as his captive gave yet another muffled scream.

Ringmaster sighed over-dramatically, casually slamming the man into the nearest tree trunk so his back was pressed against it.

"You know," the wolf-man said, grinning as his silver fur gave a happy bristle, "you're being an awfully rude guest. I bring you here, to this wonderful place, to live out the rest of your admittedly short life, and you repay me by trying to get away again?

"Tsk, tsk." Ringmaster tapped the duct tape holding his victim's mouth shut with a newly sharpened claw. "You should be happy; you're one of the lucky ones. Most of the others have to settle for an alley, or one of those cramped buildings you dare to call houses. You get this."

And then he ripped the tape from the man's lips. His victim didn't dare to scream again, only whimper, his comparably-tiny form trembling in the grasp of the eight-foot werewolf creature before him. He didn't know exactly what he'd done to deserve this, but he was afraid -- so much so, his stomach was practically writhing with a sickening sort of anticipation.

"W... what do you want from me?" he choked, voice cracking.

"Blood." Ringmaster's answer was so simple, so quick to come, the man couldn't help but flinch back. "And.. relief. I'm in a foul mood, y'see. I need something to... quell the upset."

"You... you don't have to do this."

"Oh, but I do." The wolf-man grinned again, showing off every rounded, sharp tooth that was possible. "Do you know how long it's been since I've tasted blood? Since I had a good meal like you under my claws? I was holding off for someone..." His eyes flicked down, to the silver ring on his finger. "...but... she's gone, now. She's not coming back. So I get to have some fun with you.

"Father would be so proud..."

For the man, every second it took Ringmaster to tie him to the tree was an agonizing century, but for Ringmaster... for Ringmaster himself, they all blurred together, too fast to really tell what was going on. It wasn't until he had his scalpel in his hand, the old friend he knew would never leave him -- his best friend, he figured -- that time slowed back down to a normal pace, that he could truly savor the feelings on his skin. The dirt underneath his bare paws, the kiss of cool metal, familiar and needed, its blade ready to slice, against the pads of his hand...

Yes, this was what he'd lived for, not so long ago. And Leral, how he'd missed it.

He had been planning to start slow, but a sob from the man below him caused him to lash out, stabbing his scalpel into the man's arm and turning the sob into a strangled scream, a cry of pain. The Madness glimmered in Ringmaster's eyes as blood gushed from the wound, splattering his hand and arm, and he cackled shrilly.

He couldn't even try to savor it now, not any more. He slashed and carved and hacked as best he could with such a small instrument, opening holes in the man's flesh with precise, practiced strokes. The silver fur of his body was stained crimson, now; his tongue lolled from his mouth in what could only be called hunger.

The screams turned into whimpers, the whimpers into grunts. His victim vomited, once, but Ringmaster kept on going until the man's shallow, ragged breaths were forever extinguished.

Ringmaster took a step back, panting from the sheer thrill of it, the adrenaline. So long... so long since he'd done something like this, and he wasn't going to stop, now that he'd restarted. It was too right, too perfect. It took his mind back, back to before he'd met Fy, back to when he'd still held some semblence of faith in the Book, when his life had been lonely, but simple.

Even if... even if he was lying to a part of himself; more then anything else, even more then his old life, he wanted her. He had made her his, and then she had made him hers... they had had children on the way. He had been so looking forward to holding pups in his arms once more, to the feel of being a father again. And now it wasn't going to happen.

He wanted Fyrelia.

Perhaps that was why he'd chosen this spot, to restart his old life. Even as he looked around the clearing one last time before turning and leaving, he couldn't help but think of the... poetry of the situation. The poetry of returning to his old life in the very place he'd begun his new one.

The very clearing where he'd made Fyrelia his wife.[/blockquote]