Post by Colin Holden on Mar 31, 2010 3:45:59 GMT -5
Colin James MacArthur
As my soul heals the shame
I will grow through this pain
Lord I'm doing all I can
To be a better man.
Full Name: Colin James MacArthur
Nicknames: Plenty and often not one fit for the ladies to hear. Colin James, James MacArthur, Jimmy Mac, Jim Collins
Physical Age: 141 (32 mortal, 109 immortal)
Date of Birth: 1/4/1869
Hometown: Wichita, KS
Current Residence: New Orleans, LA
Occupation: Jack of All Trades/ Atonement
Relationship Status:
Character Type: Cursed Tomb Raider/ Treasure Hunter/ Ancient Scholar
Affiliations: Good but prone to selfishness
Gender: Male
Hair: Sleek, medium brown with sun-streaks, typically worn shorter on the bottom and longer on the top. Has been known to wear it longer or short depending on the style of the times.
Eyes: Blue-Grey
Height: 6'4
Weight: 210
Body Type: Brawny
Best Feature: Killer dimples and puppydog eyes.
Worst Feature: A gentleman never tells
Sexuality: Ladies Man
Personal Style: Some accuse him of being an Indiana Jones Fanboy at times: loose white linen shirts, khaki and brown pants, leather bomber jackets, etc...but the truth was he worn it before Spielberg was a twinkle in his Daddy's eye. Though somewhat updated he still favors this style but can branch out to jeans, motorcycle boots, leather jackets, t-shirts or even a nicely tailored suit.
Face Claim: Brendan Fraser
Abilities: Clearly the biggest of these would be his immortality. He still feels all the pain of injuries, bleeds, breaks things, etc and it hurts just as much. It just doesn't kill him. He also has fast healing as a part of his immortality. He is stronger than a normal human but by no means in league with Superman. Enhanced reflexes are also a little perk of his curse, adding to his already agile reflexes. Part and parcel of his curse is the being drawn to where he can do good. He is not forced to do that right thing or compelled to but it is as if he has an internal compass that will lead him to where he might be needed. There hasn't been anything that he has found yet that can kill him but he is just as susceptible to magics and mundane influences as anyone.
He is very intelligent and sharp of mind. He is fluent in the romantic languages (Spanish, Italian, French) as well as his parent's native Gaelic and Latin from his studies. There are several other ancient languages that he knows that are not widely known such as Aramaic, Sumerian, and old Hebrew as well as being well versed in hieroglyphics. Over the decades he has walked the earth he has picked up Mandarin, Japanese, Russian and several Arabic dialects.
When it comes to history the man is a walking textbook. Of course in recent history he should be since he lived it. But, being the history nerd he is, he is schooled in ancient history as well. Mythology, legends, literature and the like are also strong suits for him though the sciences are not as much his forte.
With his upbringing and his devil may care attitude he is what in later times Hollywood legends would strive to be. The consummate swashbuckler, he is handy with swords, knives, guns, and whips. Errol Flynn eat your heart out. While he has been around long enough to pick up a little of this and that of the martial arts it isn't really his style. He much more prefers the good old, bare knuckled street brawler style. Why make with the fancy kicks and stuff when a well placed punch will suffice?
Being from the land that is nicknamed "The Air Capital of the World" he's always been fascinated with flying and since the first by-planes has been flying and keeping current with modern aircraft. But that isn't his only delight. Anything with speed is a thrill. He has been avid about anything with an engine since the first motorcars and motorcycles and is a pretty darn good driver, even working as
a stuntman at one point in his long life.
And rounding out the adventurous man is his skill with the ladies. Whether it's spinning them around the dance floor or crooning to them while strumming a guitar or tickling the ivories he is quite the Casanova. He's charming and knows all those little things that gentlemen seem to have forgotten in this era.
Personality: He might seem like the typical smooth talker; the Romeo that likes to woo the ladies and save the day to look good, which he does do. But that is just one facet of his personality. It's one of the things that makes his long existence bearable. In his normal life he was the Golden Boy and he never really grew out of the attention and adoration that earned him. Despite some of the hard lessons he's learned about morality he still suffers from bouts of greed and temptation of a quick buck or the thrill of an adventure.
He's charming and witty, quick with a smile and a joke or a flattering compliment for the ladies. But he is also a thrill seeker. He loves to get his adrenaline up with risky situations, high speed driving, and adventures. His immortality only makes it more likely that he will leap before he looks and do it all with a smile on his face, loving every second of it. A drunken bar brawl one night, Running from authorities another....it's all good.
Likes: WOMEN!
• Adrenaline junkie
• Challenges
• Good booze
• Learning new things
Dislikes: Thoth
• Abusers
• Camels
• Snakes
• Scorpions
Strengths: Intelligence
• Bravery/Stupidity
• Enhanced healing, reflexes, strength
• Experiences
Weaknesses: Duties of his curse
• Women
• Temptation of fortune/adventure
• Doing the right thing
Mother: Bridgett Claire Monahan MacArthur
Father: James Patrick MacArthur
Siblings: none
Others: none
Bio: Born in 1869 to two poor Irish immigrants in New York City, Colin's family left the city and headed West to try their luck in the uncivilized West. They settled in Wichita, KS and set up a small homestead on what would later become part of the famous Chisholm Trail. In his early years Colin worked hard from the time he could walk, helping his family around the farm. But he was not some stupid, uneducated farm boy. His mother had come from a very wealthy and influential family in Ireland. As such she had a rarity that most poor families did not, books. In the evening, after the chores were done she would teach her boy his letters and arithmetic and history and literature.
As the cattle trade coming through their area increased, earning the town the nickname of a 'Cowtown' many colorful figures passed through it's borders, each earning the admiration of the young boy who would listen for hours to their tales of adventure and excitement. One of those figures was none other that Wyatt Earp who came in 1874 and stayed until 1876, utterly beguiling the then 5 year old Colin and becoming his idol by the time he left when the boy was 7. Several other famous and infamous figures passed through in his youth including Bat Masterson, Doc Holiday, and Wild Bill Hickok. Such dashing frontiersmen left a lasting impression on the boy and helped shape the adventure seeker he was later to become.
By the time he was sixteen the big strapping lad was more educated than any of the other children around. His father, having always felt guilty for taking his mother from her fine house and fine things had made a deal to work with the railroads that terminated in the area. The cattle trade was booming for Texans since the end of the Civil War and with the Chisholm Trail coming through their area , leading herds from Texas to the railroads where they would be shipped to the north and east the rail trade was booming as well. He moved the family from the small homestead to a nice little house in town and Colin, at his mother's insistence, was sent off to school.
Upon graduating he received scholarships to attend the still new Baker University in Baldwin, KS. It was the first University in Kansas founded in 1858. He took to college like a duck to water, devouring the knowledge that was offered and excelling in the arts, history especially. While he was always an exceptional student the sciences and maths were not a strong point for him and he always had to work a little bit harder at them. But he shone in the areas of literature and history and later anthropology.
But it wasn't just his academics that made him the Golden Boy on campus. He excelled at sports as well, being the captain of the first football team and leading his team through all sorts of trials. They called him the Dervish for his tendencies to barrel through the opposition, laughing like a mad man no matter how hard he was hit or how many players piled on him. He loved the thrill of it. Back in those days football did not have as many rules as there are now and there was really no such thing as safety equipment. It was a brutal and rough game and that was just how he liked it.
He gained his reputation not only on campus or on the field but also about town after many drunken brawls that were bound to break out whenever he was around, either from inadvertently insulting one of the locals or trying to woo one of their girls. But through the black eyes, bloody noses and split lips he smiled through it all. He loved the excitement and adrenaline.
After graduating with his first degree Colin continued to attend school, wanting his Doctorate and loving the life he was leading at Baker. He devoured languages and more history, dabbling in archeology as well. By the time he'd earned his PhD he was offered a position at the school as a professor. While it was tempting to remain in such a bastion of education, especially with the newly changed co-ed campus the offer from his mentor was just far more tempting.
He visited his mother and father and told them of his plans to go to the desserts in the East on a dig with his mentor. Dressed like a stereotypical frontiersman with his sturdy boots, rugged heavy trousers, linen shirts, leather jacket and galluses, his revolvers strapped to his hips, he set out on the boat that would take him to his destiny.
The first year was a learning experience. He picked up the dialects of the locals quickly, able to converse with them as they worked and toiled in the desert heat. He learned their ways and their customs. He taught them how to be a gun slinger and they taught him how to ride camels, to use a whip, and sword play. His college nickname was picked up by the locals that worked side by side with them after hearing it from the elder professor but added to it calling him the White Dervish.
They found smaller artifacts and dwellings as they excavated but they had not yet found the tomb that they were searching for. Just enough to keep their investors and the college from calling them home and canceling their funding. Tragedy struck at the end of that first year when his mentor was crushed in a cave in. Colin assumed the responsibilities of the man in charge and sent letters to thier investors, assuring them that they were close. He was allowed to stay on and in charge as they kept digging.
It was four years later that they hit their big find. The Tomb of Nefrekeptah, legend saying he was the son of Amen-hotep. Ancient legend had said that the tomb held the fabled Book of Thoth the God of all Wisdom, Knowledge, Secrets, and Scribes which contained, among other things, two spells of great power. One would allow the spell caster to be able to understand the tongues of all the beasts, fowls, and fishes of the earth, to have all the knowledge of all the heavens and earth. The other would make the dead walk again.
Just the find of the Book itself would make him famous forever but in the back of his mind the desire to have all that knowledge and the wealth that such fame and knowledge would attain him. They toiled month after month till they were able to gain entry into the tomb. The locals would not enter the tomb, leaving the adventurous archeologist to enter and explore alone. His knowledge of hieroglyphics and ancient legends helped him through the maze of traps as he went deeper and deeper.
In the inner chamber there was a sarcophagus in the center surrounded by the treasures of the Pharaoh and within the sarcophagus was the Book, clutched in the mummified hands of the dead ruler. As he pried it away, his mind filled with nothing but greed and lust for what the Book would mean to him hordes of scorpions and snakes poured from the walls slowly filling the chamber. He climbed atop the sarcophagus and looked for escape. A figure gleamed before him, the head of an ibis and body of a man dressed in fine regalia. It told him to replace the Book and leave the tomb or suffer the consequences!
He was not about to give up the Book or the tomb. It was the greatest find of the times! Making a dashing exit he fled the tomb and upon stepping back out found that his entire crew had been slaughtered, snakes and scorpions crawling all over them. But that was not the end of it. He rode out of the camp, the Book clutched to his chest, urging the camel on but the snakes and scorpions followed like an ancient Biblical plague.
The sands around him rolled like waves on the sea, trying to block his escape but on he urged the camel, eventually reaching the city and losing the horde of venomous creatures behind him. Locked in the confines of his room he touched the book lightly, seeking the way to open it, reading the scrawls upon it's cover. Eventually he managed to get it open, pushing away the screams of the men that died because of his greed that echoed in his head.
He read the first spell silently first, wanting all the syllables to be precise. If he could just attain the knowledge of the world he might be able to change things, to bring back those that were killed. But as he opened his mouth to speak the words aloud he only made it halfway through before something went through him, as if his soul itself was being jerked from his body. He fell to the floor, seemingly dead to the naked eye but he was not dead.
His very consciousness and soul had been ripped from him and found itself in an inbetween place. Everything was blinding and bright and before him loomed the figure from the tomb. It was Thoth himself. He cursed the greedy human, showed him the souls of those that perished because of his greed, the families that would mourn their loss. As he glanced around he could see other Gods and Godesses of ancient Egypt. His sentence was handed down as the God of Wisdom condemned him. He was commanded to walk the earth for an eternity, to atone for his folly by doing good deeds, to set the balance once more. The hand of the God reached out and lay upon his head and he awoke, back in the tomb, the Book gone and everything appearing to be unchanged.
Walking out into the blinding sun of the desert he looked around, thinking it had all been a dream but the bodies of the workers and other archeologist still littered the landscape, mutilated by the serpents and scorpions. He fell to his knees, screaming, thinking he'd lost his mind. He remained there for three days, not moving before he rose to his feet and staggered and stumbled till he reached the city once more.
His logical mind said he should be dead but he wasn't. Dehydrated, famished, sunburned, he was alive despite the odds. A week was spent in an Egyptian hospital, tended to until he was hale once more. It wasn't long before he was on a boat headed back to America, empty handed. The dig site that they had spent so much time on seemed to be consumed by the desert once more, as if they had never been there.
He spent the next few years in a drunken stupor, trying to die, trying to kill himself. He got into fist fights for no reason. He was shot more times than he cared to remember. He'd even been trampled by a horse and fallen off a cliff. All he'd gotten for his troubles was pain and injuries that always healed, always leaving him the same as he was before. From time to time Thoth would come to him in dreams, reminding him of his curse and his duty. Eventually he took it seriously, realized that he was not losing his mind, that he truly was immortal.
He went west to California, stopping only to see his parents one last time. He vowed he would never see them again. It was for the best. For the years that followed he learned to love life again, to enjoy his immortality to an extent. He was never pleased with it completely or the responsibilities that it gave him but everytime he would find himself in a place where he was needed he would balk at first but eventually he would do his part. Sometimes he was able to save the person. Sometimes he was not.
He traveled the world through the years, becoming a jack of all trades. He learned new languages and skills. He was a test pilot for some of the first airplanes. He fought in both World Wars. Hollywood was alluring to him but he never tried to be one of the matinee icons. Instead he was a stuntman for several years, pulling off death defying stunts. He explored the Amazon. He fought again in Viet Nam for a time before deserting and losing himself in the jungles of South East Asia. Through time he saw and learned many things. Some were wonderful but others were horrifying. He encountered other supernatural things, ghosts, demons, weres, and more. No matter what he did or how reckless he was he never died, never aged, and never has he managed to break his curse. At times it weighs on him still but he has vowed to make the most of it while he is on this earth. There's only so long a person can sulk before they pull themselves out of it.
RP Sample:
He was staring down the barrel of the shotgun as the man stood at the end of the bed, having caught him in a state of undress in bed with the man's wife. He held his hand up and smiled, trying to hold the man off as he slid out of the bed and held a pillow over his front. "Whoa.. whoa there. It's not what it looks like. Honestly. She was merely trying to make sure that I wouldn't die." Colin tried to reason with the man. "Body heat is the most sure way to stave off hypothermia after all."
The man did not seem to believe him as he merely cocked the hammers on the shotgun back and aimed it dead on the rascal. Colin backed toward the window with his hand out. The fact that the pillow did not rest flat against him and he was far from cold in his state of arousal sort of shot his defense down but he just wanted to get closer to the window to make his break for it. Buckshot in the ass was preferred to picking it out elsewhere.
He turned as he saw the man put his finger over the trigger, plunging through the glass on the window and out into the cold just as the gun went off, peppering him from shoulder blades to knees as he dove out the window. Bleeding and cursing to himself he winced with every frostbitten step he took, running off into the Canadian wilderness. His time here was done. They'd be looking for his dead body soon. He couldn't be found here in good health.
Despite the pain and the need to move on he grinned as he glanced back at the glowing windows of the house in the distance and chuckled to himself. "Totally worth it."
