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Picture:

Username: The Wolf Dad

Name: York Verano.

Aliases: None to speak of. Except that rock. Over there..

Age: 23.

Gender Male.

Sexuality: Straight.

Blood Type: AB-

Ethnicity: Italian-French.

Birth Date: 4/4

Relationship Status: Married to the rock. (Jk)

Unique characteristics: Extremely possessive of his jacket, normally protective and would just love to kill someone with a sock.

Crimes: Verano murdered the Ambassador of Italy for no particular reason, his answer for doing so happened to be his middle finger.

Personality/Motivation: Verano left behind a child with his parents, he loves this child dearly despite not thinking about her so much during his time here. She is always at the back of his thoughts, driving him forward to survive so one day he may get out of this hell hole and return to his daughter. For better or for worse.

Dreams and Fears: To escape No Man's Land and return to his three year old daughter.

Biography: York was born from a wealthy estate, his parent's rarely talked or interacted with him however. Always preffering to go to parties for the rich, celebrate at the continuity of resturantes around Italy and Paris. Growing up York took on the sport or Archery, and from the age of four he began pratice with the finest Archers money could buy. At the age of ten, when Archery was beginning to grow boring he continued to try more dangerous activites, secretly hoping that his hobbies would eventually bring the attention of his parents back towards him. He started up darts, which proved entertaining and as he grew gradually better at it he started to use daggers and throwing knives. Never getting the attention of his parents more then the action of returning and getting their credit card.

This sort of thing continued on for years, with York trying Archery, Darts, Knives & Daggers, and horse back riding. His parents finally started to notice that their son was starting to have a strange attraction to the more dangerous of activites, and for a week or two York was happy with the attention but before he could even apologize for his actions and explain he was shipped off to a miliatary school. Not one of those just for discipline, no he was sent to a miliatary training camp for the young. A came filled with adolescants training for the European Spec ops. When the other soldiers figured out about him being a son of a wealthy official, the teasing had begun and he was shunned from the entire camp. This drove him to outshine everybody, prove to them that a richborn kid could do things for his own but as he got better the ridicule got harder. One day two of the trainees, both a year older then York himself cornered him alone within their barracks after everyone had left. They expected it to be easy, beat up a little rich punk but as the burlier of the two rushed York all he had to do was side step. The brute was one of the trainees who just didn't pay enough attention to the drills to learn how to fight and York took advantage to that and with that one miss, York twisted the boy's arm behind his back and for a second they struggled as the third boy remained struck in fear. The burly trainee tried to swing at York once more but he moved out and behind him again but this time York was fast enough to wrap his arm around the trainees neck and with a quick jerk of his arm with enough power. The fight was over. The kid dead and the second left standing, staring at York in horror and before York could even touch him he fainted.

It appeared that the second trainee had a medical disorder and if he went through to much trauma his heart would stop beating, he didn't die but he was put into a coma. This satisfied York's needs despite being sixteen he knew what would have happened to him if anyone found out it was actually him who killed the boy and at the moment the only suspect for the murder was the boy in the coma. York spent three more years in that training camp, staying with hand to hand training, as well as a more modern version of what he did back home. He was given a barret 50. Calibur sniper rifle at the shooting range and after a few weeks he started to get the hang of sniping, the differance from pacing your shots and taking aim wasn't to different from Archery back home and he took to it for those three years. In till the day he was sent back home.

At the age of Nineteen his anger and sanity was starting to be questioned, unfortunately at that age it was then his parents started to need to bring him to formal events to keep up moral appeal with their "friends". It was at one of these formal events that he met a beautiful girl, and through the year they had sat through the same events together trying to drink away the obscenity of it all. One night, when the party was just to intense for them to stand it they got together. It wasn't anything they really thought about but nine months later York had a child, a child that drove his parents insane. They didn't approve of York's actions but in their mind when the father of the woman found out he told them to never return to his house again. The blame falling to their son, full of resent and anger his parents not just ignored his existance but now they completely hated him.

A year passed and he wasn't allowed to see his child, it was actually a miracle that he was even told that it was a girl. Besides that he knows nothing about her life, at the end of the year his parents brought him to another party as a way of redeeming himself for their sake. But this time York had had enough and had brought along his favored longbow. It was an expensive mechanical bow that could shoot arrows at more then a hundred miles an hour and lock a shot in without the wielder holding the arrow in place. So when the holder of the event, the Ambassador of Italy began his speach York snuck his bow in through his parents car which wasn't searched due to their respect in office and made it the parapret of the building. It wasn't a hard shot, there wasn't a good reason, but he wanted it to end. So he took the shot.

Other: York Verano is slowly losing his mind, the only thing he completely remembers is that he has a daughter.

Picture:
-Wears a dark grey pair of jeans with a silver studded belt that keeps it tight to his body. He wears no shoes nor socks, scars litter his bear feet so much they've grown rough and he no longer has feeling in them.

Username: The Wolf Dad

Name: Bartimaeus Dracul

Aliases: Vlad the Impaler.

Age: 17.

Gender Male.

Sexuality: Straight.

Blood Type: Ab+

Ethnicity: Walachian. [Yes it's actually real.]

Birth Date: 7/14

Relationship Status: Single.

Unique characteristics: Has greater then average strength, yet not completely muscular. Flexible but not the fastest, and double jointed.

Crimes: For the murder of 17 Students, and one file of attempt. Has been declaired insane after his sixth murder since that was the first he had said "My great, great, great, great, grandfather whispered in my head to keep going."

Personality/Motivation: Bartimaeus is quirky, always reacting to the smallest of things and paying attention to the smallest of details. He may be socially awkward, but he grew up in the expensive of schools and was already through college at the age of fifteen. His motivation is his families legacy, keeping Vlad the Impaler's nickname throughout the family.

Dreams and Fears: Bartimaeus dreams to go down in history better then his family had, he intends to beat his great X 4 Grandfather at his own game. And to do that he plans on taking over No Man's Land. He fears that he would go out in a whimper, a voice unheard and unknown. To be written off in history like so many others before him.

Biography: Since an early age Bartimaeus lived in a wealthy family, his families fortune coming from the vast amounts of coin that Vlad Dracul had made for his family when he lived. His uncle, who is still related to Vlad was once the king of Britain which also furthered their family name and allowed young Bartimaeus to attend the most prestigous of private schools, and for his parents to teach him the ways of the old. Their family had in their possession, over four dozen antiqiuel swords from Vlad Dracul, each one in perfect shape and made out of Silver and Gold. They were masterpieces in themselves and althroughout growing up his parent's taught him how to wield a blade, a knife, and how to skin an animal [In secret his father taught him how to skin a human] so by the age of twelve Bartimaeus was an excellant hunter.

It was at the age of twelve when he started to learn about Vlad Dracul, his ancient ancestor and at first he was filled with pride about his family so he told his best friend at the time. And from there his friend told others... Who looked him up and found out the real past of Bartimaeus's family. They ridiculed him, driving him insane under the constant abuse and namecaliing: "Killer!" "Your families evil!!!" "Run! Here come's Vlad!" The kid's screamed at him. He tried to drown them out by furthering his studies, passing in grades he left the kid's who knew about his ancestory to older kids who still looked down on him but definately not as much as what he was used too.

When he was done with college, he took a little reprieve from work and walked the town. The kid's from his school had aged, and so had he but Bartimaeus was kept busy with his parent's training him and teaching him the manners of the old age that he had gained muscle and physique but he was still recognizable by his old friends who started to talk about the old days. The memories haunted Bartimaeus and as soon as one of the kid's told a joke about his family... He snapped in his neck in a split second before kicing another in the groin and throwing him into one of the girls. The group of seven kids... Against one Bartimaeus. The fight didn't last long becuase just as he threw the one man, he continued to go for the quick kills, a snap of the neck, or sending someone to the ground and crushing their skull in with his boot before blocking another. Two girls tried to run.. Only for Bartimaeus to catch up to them before they got away. He spared them no mercy and beat the living hell out of the one who always teased him the most, and killed her friend quick in front of her, making her watch. The friend hadn't even known him, she was just at the wrong place, at the wrong time. As soon as the six were dead, he turned to the beaten girl on the floor just as the sirens were starting to ring in his ears a few blocks down. "You can call me Vlad" Was the last words she heard before he curbstomped her head into the pavement, letting the blood of skull stick to his boot as he ran back to his house.

As soon as he made it home he rushed to the families cellar, entered the passcode and lifted one of Vlad's swords but just as he was about to leave his imagination played a trick on him. An older man, was leaning up against the wall near a rack of finely tanned sheaths. The man turned to Bartimaeus, a smile on his lips and he knew he was looking at what used to be Vlad Dracul. He didn't know it was just his imagination, but he didn't care as he crossed the room, nodded to his grandfather and lifted the sheath he was standing next to before running outside the room. Just as he entered the main hall a voice spoke in his head, and it wasn't his own. 'Son, kill whoever stands in your way... Anyone.' The voice intoned and as a servant came across his path, seeing the blood and the look in Bartimaeus's eyes he almost screamed but his throat was cut with a flourish to fast to scream. His head falling to the ground with a thud as he continued outside. He killed four more servants, and there were two cops right outside the door and as they knocked he bashed the door open hard sending one down the steps of the main gate, snapping his neck on the hard steps immediately before Bartimaeus slew the second with his blade. He tried to continue running, but it was no use. He killed one more cop and a gardner that his parents had specificly cared for, before he was beat with nightsticks to the ground.

Bartimaeus was transferred to a police station while his parent's tried to bribe, persuade, anything to get their son out of there but it was no use. He was screwed and he knew it, he had just killed too many to publicly. As his lawyer came into the room, and told him the bad news Bartimaeus sighed. "So you can't do anything for me?" The lawyers answer wasn't pleasant and as he sat down next to him with a pathetic smile on his lips he heard his ancestor's voice in his head again. 'Kill him' it said plainfully and Bartimaeus was happy to comply by headbutting the lawyer and then ramming his head against the steel desk as the guard's came in to stop him but it was to late. Bartimaeus had killed his Seventeeth man.

Other: Bartimaeus is mentally insane, and the Vlad he see's and hears isn't real in anyway. Here's a pic of Bartimaeus's blade:




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My ancestor's will be proud... As long as your dead.