Lachlan Bartholomew Dudley

[LACHLAN DUDLEY]

lachlan bartholomew dudley

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[/b], yep so please call me that from now on. i've got 4 birds flying round my head and they don't half get annoying but when you've been around for 19 years you get used to it. have you heard about LADY YSADORA, 'cause she is right awesome so don't mess with me, 'cause i've read the rules and i say HAI. so read my application yo!?! kthxbi.[/ul][/blockquote][/size]

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FULL NAME!?! – Lachlan Bartholomew Dudley
NICK NAMES!?! - Dudley; he is arrogant enough to refer to himself as Death.
AGE!?! - 35
OCCUPATION!?! – Executioner
MEMBER GROUP!?! – Shape Shifter (Crow)
RELIGION!?! – None. The gods/goddesses hardly waste their time on civilization, why should he waste his time on them?
MAGIC!?! - None. He personally finds it disturbing and unnatural.
SEXUALITY!?! – Heterosexual
GENDER!?! - Male
PLAYED BY!?! – Richard Armitage

LIKES!?! -

• Women of all shapes and sorts
  
• Physical confrontations
  
• Drugs
  
• Poetry/literature
  
• Food, lots and lots of food

DISLIKES!?! -

• Cats
  
• Cold weather/snow
  
• Vegetables
  
• Orders
  
• Wealth

GOALS!?! -

• Complete his own collection of poetry.
  
• Die with a sword in his belly.

FEARS!?! -

• Fire
  
• Loud noises (he’ll just yell back to drown them out)
  
• Spiders

STRENGTHS!?! -

• Swordsmanship
  
• Cunning
  
• Confidence
  
• Perseverance

WEAKNESS!?! -

• Pride
  
• Arrogance
  
• Disorganized
  
• Violent
  
• Negative
  
• Stubborn

OVERALL!?! – An introvert at heart Lachlan rarely is his ‘best’ when in the company of many, though his ‘best’ is not much to offer. Dubbed a man of steel, his impressionable strength leads many to assume him thick-headed and a brute. But to be fair in many ways Lachlan personally feels his fits these suppositions. He is a proud man who thinks very highly of himself; though his confidence enables him to take many risks his aggressive nature has landed him in trouble. But again, due to his arrogance he never worries much of attacks brought on because of his skilled swordsmanship. He perseveres to the very end of any task despite the risk and won’t take no for an answer. Though not the sharpest tool in the shed he is cunning and resourceful. He can be oblivious to the feelings of others but always notices a signal of attack. He lacks a filter and mocks others with barely a thought, no matter who they are. He’s cheeky and dark-humored. Lachlan is a sore loser who doesn’t take well to defeat.

Disorganized since birth, Lachlan cares little for luxuries; they just get scattered anyways. He has a negative outlook on things and considers himself a realist because of such. Life sucks but who cares? Certainly not him. Stubborn as a mule Lachlan doesn’t listen to much of anything, not even to his own common sense. He cares little for repercussions; everyone dies someday whether it is today or one hundred years from now. Lachlan is a pervert and enjoys the company of woman, though is respectful and knows when to ease off when one signals discomfort though might make a snarky comment about it. But in the end Lachlan is nothing more than a womanizer. He likes to play high stake; go big or go home. Due to his inability to cope with a group during his days in the militia he was forced into becoming an executioner for his great swordsmanship; his cuts are clean and quick. What some find odd about him is that Lachlan enjoys poetry and other literary sources; exercise for the mind and body. He is content with where he is in life, though some consider his move to executioner a blow to his honor; Lachlan is pleased with the drugs supplied to him through his line of work. He hates money believing it makes mankind cowards. Drugs are more fun for him anyways. Lachlan is an anti-hero. He does the right thing in all the wrong ways. He’s rude, vulgar, and an anarchic. His one true passion is the sword and he will find any petty reason to use it.

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EYES!?! – Lachlan’s eyes are light blue slits; they’re a murky grey and rather unpretty.
HAIR!?! – Dark, long, and messy his hair is rarely ever tamed.
FACE!?! – His face is square shaped and tanned; there’s always a glint of pride within his eyes.
BODY!?! – He is broad shouldered and tall; white scars paint his upper torso and arms.
UNUSUAL!?! – A long white braid stretches across his chest; various other scars ranging from white to pink align his body mainly on his upper torso and arms.
OVERALL!?! – Mainly dressed in black leather and boots, Lachlan prefers to dress for the job. He feels it gives people a bit of clarity that absolves more talking. He hates armor and chainmail, another reason that he was unfit for the militia; Lachlan believes it slows him down and gets in the way. There’s usually some sort of weapon on him at all times; a dagger is most common. His hair reaches his shoulders in wild, dark waves; it’s messy and uneven. Lachlan has sharp cheekbones that accent his narrowed eyes. His skin is tanned and leathery. Dark bristle covers his chiseled jawline. He has a big but sharp-tipped nose. A dull, bronze coin hangs from his neck.

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MOTHER!?! – Annalin Dudley, deceased, worked in a brothel
FATHER!?! - Unknown
SIBLINGS!?! - None
IMPORTANT!?! - None
FINALLY!?! – When Annalin’s father could no longer afford much of anything after having gambled it all away, his daughter was forced to work in a brothel at 19 years of age to help pay off her father’s debt. She and twenty other women lived within a large house where their freedom was limited; they could not walk out in the yard alone without an escort. Eventually after a few years she fell pregnant from one of the clients; a man who would make her grow tight-lipped and red. She gave birth to a son whom she named Lachlan, after a younger brother who had died of illness at age three.

Lachlan stayed outside of ‘the house’ during the day, often occupying himself out in the nearby meadow or on the outskirts of the village bordering the woods. Over time he had constructed a small hut out of spare cloth, branches, and other forms of trash to keep himself out of the rain. He much preferred it than seeking shelter within the hub where he was often teased by the other boys of the town. Sometimes their mockery would strike a chord within him and the young boy would often start to cry as they called his mother various names such as whore. He was a skinny boy back then and small for his age; he was easy prey. But in the evening, when the orange-glazed sun crested the hilltops, Lachlan would wipe away the tears and run to his mother. He loved her very much.

Though his mother was a human, his father had been a shape shifter and Lachlan took after him. As a child he loved shifting into his form, a crow, and flying between the trees. Crows symbolize death, an eerie implication of his current occupation, but they also represent cunning and are considered ‘tricksters.’ All of which fit him.

When he was ten years old a large fire set ‘the house’ aflame. The exact cause was unknown; though it was rumored to have been an accident due to unwatchful eyes. Some say a drunken customer dissatisfied with his services set the place ablaze. Some of the women working within were caught in the smoke and flames and were killed, including his mother. Lachlan rushed towards the house towards his mother and had made it through the door when fire rained down from the ceiling. He could see his mother in a far room screaming before a beam fell and crushed her in a fiery inferno. Lachlan does not recall much after that except a gruff hand reaching in and pulling him back; he then lost consciousness.

No one in the town could afford an extra mouth to feed so Lachlan begged for scraps until he was picked up by a foreign man. The man gave him a good meal and tended to any scraps; he cleaned Lachlan before selling the boy for a bag of golden coins. Lachlan was then delivered onto a large farm that produced crops directly for Roseash Palace. This is where Lachlan spent the rest of his youth. He labored out in the fields plowing, planting, and harvesting. His back was always bent pulling weeds or thighs strained lifting heavy bags of manure/compost. He grew big and strong. Lachlan and the other slaves entertained themselves through rough housing; he often got into fights with various other people. He once had his nose broken and since then it has never been quite straight. A solider paroling the farm took notice and eventually he was taken in for the militia.

But that was a mistake. His fighting with the other slaves had been playful; in the sense they beat one another senseless and then had a good laugh. In the military such a form of pastime was frowned upon and it seemed to Lachlan there were strict rules guiding every breath he took. He hated it. He has never believed he owed anyone anything. After numerous violent outbursts (punishable through whipping) he was forced into becoming an executioner; he was valuable with a blade and never failed to hit his mark with swift precision.

so all lyrics used are credited too PARAMORE, thee best female fronted band in the world. everything else is credited to rawr_dinosaur at caution. don't steal this template or take the credit off, if you do i shall be forced to come and pull your eyes out with a spork!?! 'cause you know you love sporks!?! and they are the best extracting eyeballs.

[♔ SONNA]