My name is
Devon Gregory Sterling
“I just want to live a relatively normal life. Aside, you know... From the whole dog shifting thing.”
I am Twenty-four Years Old
5'10'' & 140lbs
Skinwalker
Vagabond
I carry on me Lighter, cigarettes, and a pistol when not shifted.
What I like Music, swimming,steak, going for 'runs', scary movies, popcorn.
What I dislike Initiating conversations, small talk, veggies, hunters, silver.
This is my family Gregory Sterling (Father)
Shirley Sterling (Mother)
Fayth Sterling (Sister)
Devon came from a less than ideal family setting, but it was far from abusive. At the most, his young parents could have been considered neglectful. The product of a 'fun night out' in his parent's teenage years, Devon's mother was only sixteen and his father seventeen when he was brought into this world. Both parents dropped out of school, and when able, obtained full time, minimum wage jobs to try to support the unexpected family. Having a limited income as they did, the Sterlings lived minimally in a small home in Altus, Oklahoma.
Growing up, Devon and his younger sister by four years, were often left in the car of his grandparents. Well, up until Devon was nine years old, in which case his parents quit making the thirty minute drive to his grandparents'. Devon was left to watch over his sister when no one else was home and he wasn't at school. The two grew close, and although they had their sibling rivalries through the years, Devon always looked out for his little sister. Even so much as to get the living hell beat out of him once for standing up to some bullies who picked on her. For the most part, however, Devon went through school unnoticed. He was the quiet kid who sat in the back of the room that everyone wondered if he was secretly a murderer, and would often be spotted sneaking smokes behind the bleachers.
While his sister excelled in school, Devon did mediocre. He had a 'could care less' attitude about the whole thing, which earned him no scholarships despite him actually being a bright kid. So, when he graduated school, Devon got a job at a local grocery market stocking supplies from the trucks that came in. Devon saved, and instead of a car, he bought himself a 1990 Harley-Davidson XLH Sportster 1200, which became his pride and joy.
It wasn't until about three years ago that Devon's life really took a... Strange turn. He'd always dreamed of going off and having adventures, just tour the countryside on his motorcycle and life place to place, but he never quite got the push. Well... That is, until that one particular night. It was early, about five in the morning, and there was a fresh layer of snow over the ground since it was late December. Four days before Christmas, to be exact. Devon was never much of a dog person, but when he heard growling behind him and found himself face-to-face with a very large, very mean looking rottweiler, his attitude towards them certainly wasn't helped. He was viciously attacked, and had there not been a random passerby with a gun, Devon likely would have been killed.
And here's where things got weird. When the dog was shot, it turned into a man. Understandably, Devon flipped out. Especially when the man turned the gun on him, going off about being infected by a skinwalker. He really didn't get much out of it since Devon promptly threw a large crate of canned goods at the man, allowing Devon the chance to escape on his motorcycle. Devon returned to his shabby apartment, still beaten and bleeding, and passed out on the floor. When he woke, he discovered what exactly, the man was talking about. Devon woke as a dog. Literally. An Anatolian Shepherd, to be exact. When he finally calmed himself enough to return to human, Devon ran. He ran without a goodbye to his family; no note, no reasoning behind his disappearance, and has since, for the past three years, been riding the country, trying to piece together his life.
He once ran into a 'pack' shortly after he became a skinwalker, in Amarillo, Texas. Although hesitant at first, Devon agreed to join them in hopes that maybe he could find a place to belong. For a while, things were alright. However, he soon learned why hunters considered them as monsters just like vampires and werewolves. I mean, what could be so bad about being able to shift into a dog? Devon had been 'training' (although he just thought they were running around, sorta like a gang) with the leader of the pack, the 'Alpha'. They cornered a woman, and as Devon began to protest, thinking the alpha was going to do other unsavory things to her, the alpha ripped her throat out and dug out her heart. Devon was truly horrified as the alpha ate half the heart, then threw the rest to him, explaining that it 'made them stronger'. Once again, Devon ran. He ran as far and as fast as he would to escape that reality, but somewhere deep down it always traveled with him. What if he had stayed? What would have happened if he had tried it?
Wolark
Devon Gregory Sterling
“I just want to live a relatively normal life. Aside, you know... From the whole dog shifting thing.”
I am Twenty-four Years Old
5'10'' & 140lbs
Skinwalker
Vagabond
I carry on me Lighter, cigarettes, and a pistol when not shifted.
What I like Music, swimming,steak, going for 'runs', scary movies, popcorn.
What I dislike Initiating conversations, small talk, veggies, hunters, silver.
This is my family Gregory Sterling (Father)
Shirley Sterling (Mother)
Fayth Sterling (Sister)
Devon came from a less than ideal family setting, but it was far from abusive. At the most, his young parents could have been considered neglectful. The product of a 'fun night out' in his parent's teenage years, Devon's mother was only sixteen and his father seventeen when he was brought into this world. Both parents dropped out of school, and when able, obtained full time, minimum wage jobs to try to support the unexpected family. Having a limited income as they did, the Sterlings lived minimally in a small home in Altus, Oklahoma.
Growing up, Devon and his younger sister by four years, were often left in the car of his grandparents. Well, up until Devon was nine years old, in which case his parents quit making the thirty minute drive to his grandparents'. Devon was left to watch over his sister when no one else was home and he wasn't at school. The two grew close, and although they had their sibling rivalries through the years, Devon always looked out for his little sister. Even so much as to get the living hell beat out of him once for standing up to some bullies who picked on her. For the most part, however, Devon went through school unnoticed. He was the quiet kid who sat in the back of the room that everyone wondered if he was secretly a murderer, and would often be spotted sneaking smokes behind the bleachers.
While his sister excelled in school, Devon did mediocre. He had a 'could care less' attitude about the whole thing, which earned him no scholarships despite him actually being a bright kid. So, when he graduated school, Devon got a job at a local grocery market stocking supplies from the trucks that came in. Devon saved, and instead of a car, he bought himself a 1990 Harley-Davidson XLH Sportster 1200, which became his pride and joy.
It wasn't until about three years ago that Devon's life really took a... Strange turn. He'd always dreamed of going off and having adventures, just tour the countryside on his motorcycle and life place to place, but he never quite got the push. Well... That is, until that one particular night. It was early, about five in the morning, and there was a fresh layer of snow over the ground since it was late December. Four days before Christmas, to be exact. Devon was never much of a dog person, but when he heard growling behind him and found himself face-to-face with a very large, very mean looking rottweiler, his attitude towards them certainly wasn't helped. He was viciously attacked, and had there not been a random passerby with a gun, Devon likely would have been killed.
And here's where things got weird. When the dog was shot, it turned into a man. Understandably, Devon flipped out. Especially when the man turned the gun on him, going off about being infected by a skinwalker. He really didn't get much out of it since Devon promptly threw a large crate of canned goods at the man, allowing Devon the chance to escape on his motorcycle. Devon returned to his shabby apartment, still beaten and bleeding, and passed out on the floor. When he woke, he discovered what exactly, the man was talking about. Devon woke as a dog. Literally. An Anatolian Shepherd, to be exact. When he finally calmed himself enough to return to human, Devon ran. He ran without a goodbye to his family; no note, no reasoning behind his disappearance, and has since, for the past three years, been riding the country, trying to piece together his life.
He once ran into a 'pack' shortly after he became a skinwalker, in Amarillo, Texas. Although hesitant at first, Devon agreed to join them in hopes that maybe he could find a place to belong. For a while, things were alright. However, he soon learned why hunters considered them as monsters just like vampires and werewolves. I mean, what could be so bad about being able to shift into a dog? Devon had been 'training' (although he just thought they were running around, sorta like a gang) with the leader of the pack, the 'Alpha'. They cornered a woman, and as Devon began to protest, thinking the alpha was going to do other unsavory things to her, the alpha ripped her throat out and dug out her heart. Devon was truly horrified as the alpha ate half the heart, then threw the rest to him, explaining that it 'made them stronger'. Once again, Devon ran. He ran as far and as fast as he would to escape that reality, but somewhere deep down it always traveled with him. What if he had stayed? What would have happened if he had tried it?
Wolark
