Werewolf Mortimer
Was created by an Elder werewolf 30/06/2006 at 07:34:53
Character description
.~~[img]http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b111/Zoe1975/Mortimertimesfoursideburnssmall.jpg?t=1166586690[/img]~~.
Favorite quote:
“If you can’t laugh at yourself, then who can you laugh at?”
~Tiger Woods
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mortimer in a nut shell:
Name: Mortimer (who would have guessed?)
Hair/fur: Light brown
Eyes: Hazel
Interests: Writing, hunting, chasing butterflies
OMG! There's one now!
Personality: Joyful, careful
Description: A little shy, but if you get him talking it’s hard to get him to stop
Story:
You take the cup of coffee Mortimer hands you as he sits down in an overstuffed chair. His smile is just as friendly as it had been in the bar, but an undercurrent of excitement seems to have wormed its way into the look on his face. He sips from his own cup and sighs contently before beginning the story.
“It was a dark and stormy night,” he says, looking off into space in thought. “Just past midnight those hundreds of years ago. Lightning was coming closer and closer as I walked through the graveyard that was a shortcut back to my house. I had no light except that of the full moon. And the only noise other than the thunder and rain was a wolf howl in the distance.” His eyes lock on your own. Your eyes are wide and your mouth is slightly open as your heart skips a beat.
Suddenly he starts laughing hysterically. Confusion comes over you and he eventually gets mild control of himself. “What’s so funny?” you ask a little worriedly.
“That you’re actually buying this story! Dude, if you wan to hear a tale like that I suggest you go to the cinema downtown. Or maybe the move-rental store. Go get yourself a cheesy vampire flick, because this isn’t it.”
He begins to laugh again and you reluctantly join in. “Yeah, it did seem a little cliché.”
“That’s because it was. My story is nothing like that. It starts with… where does it start? When I was a young teen, I guess. I read a book about a werewolf and at once I was an addict. My parents said it was Trash with a capital ‘t’ but I liked it. More than the story itself, I liked the creature within it. I was curious about it. So I read another book. And once that was done I got a book on werewolf lore. Fascinating stuff. Have you ever read any?”
You shake your head and he chuckles.
“Good. Most of it’s bull shit any way. Like the moon thing? Bull. It’s just easier to hunt when there’s more light. Any way, back to the story. In school about half a year after I read the first book I was given an assignment to write a short story. Guess what I wrote it about? Yep, werewolves. It sucked, to say the least. But I had fun with it. Too bad there wasn’t spell-check back then. My professor said my story was capital-t Trash too. But whatever. I didn’t care. I actually continued to work on it after I turned it in and got a grade. For years I worked on it. By the time I was half way through high school it was actually pretty damn good. I thought so, any way. No one else had ever read it. But that was because I hadn’t finished it by then. It still isn’t finished, actually.”
He glances over at a laptop on the desk in the corner in the room. Next to it sits a rather thick pile of papers, perhaps two hundred pages.
“Two-seventy-three, actually.”
“You can read my mind?”
“Naw, that’s the vampire’s trick. I just know people like to know how long it is. For all I know people will still count it as Trash. But any way, I was working on that and a few other stories by the time I got out of high school. In the year between that and college I got a lot done with my writing, though I haven’t had anything published yet. But during that first summer I started to feel like I was being watched. It wasn’t the first time, so I shrugged it off. But It got stronger a little at a time. Nothing ever happened, though. So I went to college as planed and the feeling followed me there, too. I went though phases where sometimes it would be stronger or weaker for months at a time. It wasn’t until after I got out of school and got a real job that I actually saw the man… are you going to drink that?”
You look down dumbly at your coffee that’s by now cool enough to drink. “Yeah,” you say, taking a sip.
“So… the man. Well, he would pop up here and there from time to time when the feeling was strongest. And not just when I was alone. I’d see him in the movies or at an amusement park or walking in a crowd in the middle of the day. I like to think he wanted me to see him, though I never got a good look at him. If I tried to get to him he would slip away. But he didn’t scare me. He just seemed to be… observing me. Sort of like a zoologist watching their favorite animal in its natural habitat. He didn’t attract any attention from anyone else because he looked normal enough. For the first two or three years I tried to talk to him, but I could never get close enough. Other times he seemed too close but left before I could take advantage of it. Like several times I woke up in the middle of the night and saw him standing at the foot of my bed. But by the time I got over the shock he would be gone. Eventually I gave up. And the summer after I stopped trying to come to him he finally came to me.”
“But not in a graveyard in the middle of the night in a storm,” you say, making him laugh a little.
“Got that right. What happened was I was going to work one morning and when I got in the car I had driven about a block before I realized he was in the back seat. Shocked, I pulled off to the side of the road and just looked at him with my jaw hanging open. I was too thunderstruck to say anything. He didn’t talk at first either. He just climbed up into the passenger seat and buckled his safety belt. He smiled and finally said, ‘Well? Weren’t you going to work?’ I started the car again and continued on my way, though I had a feeling I wouldn’t be walking into that building any time soon.” Mortimer finishes off his coffee with a big gulp and chuckles a little. “I was wrong. I put in a full days work after I met him. But that was after we had a little chat. He did most of the talking. He explained how he had found me right after I got out of high school and how he knew about my story and what-not. But he didn’t say anything about himself, though I wanted to ask. When I got home from work that afternoon he was at my house reading my story. I waited for him to finish it before either of us said anything. He said he liked it and was happy that I was adding another plot-twist soon. When we walked into the living room to talk I saw what looked like a big rock in the corner that had never been there before.”
“It wasn’t a rock, was it?”
“No, it was what he called a stone-gargoyle. And it was indeed a gargoyle that had skin that looked like lots of very small grey rocks. It kind of frightened me at first, but he just laughed and showed that it was completely under his control. We continued our conversation from the car, but pretty soon my girlfriend came by and he said he didn’t want to be seen. But instead of leaving he turned into a black wolf right before my eyes and followed me as I answered the door. I told her I was dog-sitting and she didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t the first time I had done it. But she wasn’t what you’d call a dog person and said she would come by later. When she left the wolf and I went back into the living room and then he turned into… well, you’ve seen enough movies with werewolves in them. But this was a little different. He wasn’t a grotesque creature. His fur was groomed and though he was tall and strong he wasn’t overly-bulky. He was… well, beautiful, I guess you’d say. Like a cheetah. And without a word he nodded to the couch. I sat and he took hold of my arm. His hands or paws or whatever you’d call them were rough, but he was trying to be careful. But I don’t really see the point of him being cautious sense he jut be me after that.”
Mortimer holds out his left arm and just below the elbow you can see scars from the bite. The flesh itself isn’t misshapen, but the teeth marks are very visible.
“And that was it,” he goes on, “that was the last I saw of him. After he bit me he said I should put a bandage on it and go to bed. Then he left and I haven’t seen him sense. Hell, I didn’t even know his name. But he did leave me a rather long note explaining what I was. I could go into detail about how I used his advice to become stronger faster or joined in the war against the vampires or joined a clan that asked me to record its history, but I think we can save that for later. For now, let’s get another cup of coffee.”
He stands up and you drink the last of your own before following him into the other room, mystified.
~~~~~~~~~~[img]http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b111/Zoe1975/Mortimerasastraydog.jpg?t=1166628841[/img]~~~~~~~~~~
When Mortimer is out looking for a fight or on a Manhunt he turns into a rather pathetic looking stray dog. He takes off is clothes and changes into a dog when he’s at home before going out and doesn’t go back to his human form till he’s back at his house. This way he doesn’t attract attention roaming the backstreets of the largest city or smallest village. Also, it keeps him from ripping his clothes every time he turns into a werewolf. Who would want to rip apart a trench coat as cool as his?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now that that's out of the way, here's the fun part. Mortimer's mascot:
During the full moon: 
I AM THE WERECHERRY OF DOOM!!!
Weapon of choice:
Spork of the Werewolf
Hitpoints: +13
Agility: +4
Entertainment: +9
***all above art and writing is (c) to me (yes, even the spork)***
Theme songs:
No More Mr. Nice Guy
~Chuck Brodsky~
There's A Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey, You Just Haven't Thought Of It Yet
~Panic! At The Disco~
I'm Free (Heaven Helps The Man)
~Kenny Loggins~
Sheep
~Pink Floyd~
Favorite quote:
“If you can’t laugh at yourself, then who can you laugh at?”
~Tiger Woods
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Mortimer in a nut shell:
Name: Mortimer (who would have guessed?)
Hair/fur: Light brown
Eyes: Hazel
Interests: Writing, hunting, chasing butterflies
OMG! There's one now!Personality: Joyful, careful
Description: A little shy, but if you get him talking it’s hard to get him to stop
Story:
You take the cup of coffee Mortimer hands you as he sits down in an overstuffed chair. His smile is just as friendly as it had been in the bar, but an undercurrent of excitement seems to have wormed its way into the look on his face. He sips from his own cup and sighs contently before beginning the story.
“It was a dark and stormy night,” he says, looking off into space in thought. “Just past midnight those hundreds of years ago. Lightning was coming closer and closer as I walked through the graveyard that was a shortcut back to my house. I had no light except that of the full moon. And the only noise other than the thunder and rain was a wolf howl in the distance.” His eyes lock on your own. Your eyes are wide and your mouth is slightly open as your heart skips a beat.
Suddenly he starts laughing hysterically. Confusion comes over you and he eventually gets mild control of himself. “What’s so funny?” you ask a little worriedly.
“That you’re actually buying this story! Dude, if you wan to hear a tale like that I suggest you go to the cinema downtown. Or maybe the move-rental store. Go get yourself a cheesy vampire flick, because this isn’t it.”
He begins to laugh again and you reluctantly join in. “Yeah, it did seem a little cliché.”
“That’s because it was. My story is nothing like that. It starts with… where does it start? When I was a young teen, I guess. I read a book about a werewolf and at once I was an addict. My parents said it was Trash with a capital ‘t’ but I liked it. More than the story itself, I liked the creature within it. I was curious about it. So I read another book. And once that was done I got a book on werewolf lore. Fascinating stuff. Have you ever read any?”
You shake your head and he chuckles.
“Good. Most of it’s bull shit any way. Like the moon thing? Bull. It’s just easier to hunt when there’s more light. Any way, back to the story. In school about half a year after I read the first book I was given an assignment to write a short story. Guess what I wrote it about? Yep, werewolves. It sucked, to say the least. But I had fun with it. Too bad there wasn’t spell-check back then. My professor said my story was capital-t Trash too. But whatever. I didn’t care. I actually continued to work on it after I turned it in and got a grade. For years I worked on it. By the time I was half way through high school it was actually pretty damn good. I thought so, any way. No one else had ever read it. But that was because I hadn’t finished it by then. It still isn’t finished, actually.”
He glances over at a laptop on the desk in the corner in the room. Next to it sits a rather thick pile of papers, perhaps two hundred pages.
“Two-seventy-three, actually.”
“You can read my mind?”
“Naw, that’s the vampire’s trick. I just know people like to know how long it is. For all I know people will still count it as Trash. But any way, I was working on that and a few other stories by the time I got out of high school. In the year between that and college I got a lot done with my writing, though I haven’t had anything published yet. But during that first summer I started to feel like I was being watched. It wasn’t the first time, so I shrugged it off. But It got stronger a little at a time. Nothing ever happened, though. So I went to college as planed and the feeling followed me there, too. I went though phases where sometimes it would be stronger or weaker for months at a time. It wasn’t until after I got out of school and got a real job that I actually saw the man… are you going to drink that?”
You look down dumbly at your coffee that’s by now cool enough to drink. “Yeah,” you say, taking a sip.
“So… the man. Well, he would pop up here and there from time to time when the feeling was strongest. And not just when I was alone. I’d see him in the movies or at an amusement park or walking in a crowd in the middle of the day. I like to think he wanted me to see him, though I never got a good look at him. If I tried to get to him he would slip away. But he didn’t scare me. He just seemed to be… observing me. Sort of like a zoologist watching their favorite animal in its natural habitat. He didn’t attract any attention from anyone else because he looked normal enough. For the first two or three years I tried to talk to him, but I could never get close enough. Other times he seemed too close but left before I could take advantage of it. Like several times I woke up in the middle of the night and saw him standing at the foot of my bed. But by the time I got over the shock he would be gone. Eventually I gave up. And the summer after I stopped trying to come to him he finally came to me.”
“But not in a graveyard in the middle of the night in a storm,” you say, making him laugh a little.
“Got that right. What happened was I was going to work one morning and when I got in the car I had driven about a block before I realized he was in the back seat. Shocked, I pulled off to the side of the road and just looked at him with my jaw hanging open. I was too thunderstruck to say anything. He didn’t talk at first either. He just climbed up into the passenger seat and buckled his safety belt. He smiled and finally said, ‘Well? Weren’t you going to work?’ I started the car again and continued on my way, though I had a feeling I wouldn’t be walking into that building any time soon.” Mortimer finishes off his coffee with a big gulp and chuckles a little. “I was wrong. I put in a full days work after I met him. But that was after we had a little chat. He did most of the talking. He explained how he had found me right after I got out of high school and how he knew about my story and what-not. But he didn’t say anything about himself, though I wanted to ask. When I got home from work that afternoon he was at my house reading my story. I waited for him to finish it before either of us said anything. He said he liked it and was happy that I was adding another plot-twist soon. When we walked into the living room to talk I saw what looked like a big rock in the corner that had never been there before.”
“It wasn’t a rock, was it?”
“No, it was what he called a stone-gargoyle. And it was indeed a gargoyle that had skin that looked like lots of very small grey rocks. It kind of frightened me at first, but he just laughed and showed that it was completely under his control. We continued our conversation from the car, but pretty soon my girlfriend came by and he said he didn’t want to be seen. But instead of leaving he turned into a black wolf right before my eyes and followed me as I answered the door. I told her I was dog-sitting and she didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t the first time I had done it. But she wasn’t what you’d call a dog person and said she would come by later. When she left the wolf and I went back into the living room and then he turned into… well, you’ve seen enough movies with werewolves in them. But this was a little different. He wasn’t a grotesque creature. His fur was groomed and though he was tall and strong he wasn’t overly-bulky. He was… well, beautiful, I guess you’d say. Like a cheetah. And without a word he nodded to the couch. I sat and he took hold of my arm. His hands or paws or whatever you’d call them were rough, but he was trying to be careful. But I don’t really see the point of him being cautious sense he jut be me after that.”
Mortimer holds out his left arm and just below the elbow you can see scars from the bite. The flesh itself isn’t misshapen, but the teeth marks are very visible.
“And that was it,” he goes on, “that was the last I saw of him. After he bit me he said I should put a bandage on it and go to bed. Then he left and I haven’t seen him sense. Hell, I didn’t even know his name. But he did leave me a rather long note explaining what I was. I could go into detail about how I used his advice to become stronger faster or joined in the war against the vampires or joined a clan that asked me to record its history, but I think we can save that for later. For now, let’s get another cup of coffee.”
He stands up and you drink the last of your own before following him into the other room, mystified.
~~~~~~~~~~[img]http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b111/Zoe1975/Mortimerasastraydog.jpg?t=1166628841[/img]~~~~~~~~~~
When Mortimer is out looking for a fight or on a Manhunt he turns into a rather pathetic looking stray dog. He takes off is clothes and changes into a dog when he’s at home before going out and doesn’t go back to his human form till he’s back at his house. This way he doesn’t attract attention roaming the backstreets of the largest city or smallest village. Also, it keeps him from ripping his clothes every time he turns into a werewolf. Who would want to rip apart a trench coat as cool as his?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now that that's out of the way, here's the fun part. Mortimer's mascot:
During the full moon: I AM THE WERECHERRY OF DOOM!!!
Weapon of choice:
Spork of the Werewolf
Hitpoints: +13
Agility: +4
Entertainment: +9
***all above art and writing is (c) to me (yes, even the spork)***
Theme songs:
No More Mr. Nice Guy
~Chuck Brodsky~
There's A Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey, You Just Haven't Thought Of It Yet
~Panic! At The Disco~
I'm Free (Heaven Helps The Man)
~Kenny Loggins~
Sheep
~Pink Floyd~
Statistics
| Total loot: | 212,584.38 kgs of flesh |
| Victims bitten (via link): | 33 |
| Fights: | 1525 |
| Victories: | 991 |
| Defeats: | 534 |
| Draws: | 0 |
| Gold gained: | ~ 26,000.00  |
| Gold lost: | ~ 7,000.00 |
| Damage to enemies: | 105580.37 |
| Damage from enemies: | 200299.49 |
The attributes of Mortimer:
| Character level: | Level 35 |
| Strength: |    (65) |
| Defence: | (62) |
| Agility: | (69) |
| Stamina: | (61) |
| Dexterity: | (51) |
| Experience: |   (6056|6125) |
The ancestral site statistics of Mortimer
| Attempted challenges: | 3 |
| Successful challenges: | 2 |
| Failed challenges: | 1 |
Profile
| Gender: | unknown |
| Age: | unknown Years |
| Hometown: | --- |
| ICQ-number: | --- |
| MSN Messenger: | --- |
| Yahoo Messenger: | --- |
| AIM-Name: | --- |
| Jabber ID | --- |
| Skype ID | --- |
Arena
Mortimer has not yet achieved a special arena rank.
Mortimer has created 3 Werewolves so far:
| Uthar | Level 11 | Loot 18025.2 kgs of flesh |
| Corveana | Level 6 | Loot 3164 kgs of flesh |
| moonlitmists | Level 1 | Loot 0 kgs of flesh |