(('Lo, folks. This is your friendly, neighborhood commie speaking. As a... unique... character, my PC's a bit confusing in regards to his position, but don't you worry. Ily and I talked the whole thing out, and everything below this is completely within boundaries.))
[Physical:]
Name: Victor Andreyev
Nickname: "Ophios"Age: 26
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 186 lbs
Appearance: Though he tries to avoid referencing his former occupation in anything he does, Victor definitely has a soldier's physique.
Lean, gaunt, and athletic in build, he takes pride in keeping himself in top physical condition, which he doesn't consider obsessive, but rather a means to achieve an end, should a situation arise in which he'd be needed to perform at his best. Despite this, he still appears quite lanky in any sort of clothing, which sometimes makes the young man look even younger. Of special interest is his right hand, which, upon further inspection, is missing the index finger, just above the knuckle. Andreyev himself has never offered an explanation for this, merely stating that "s**t happens"
Facially, he has the sharp chin and nose of a Russian ethnic, but lacks the normally pale skin tones, instead, he sports a light, year-round tan, which, combined with his jet-black, incredibly short hair and a small patch of black hair directly under his mouth (A "Flavor Saver", as they're called by westerners), gives the ex-soldier an almost sinister appearance. Not helping this image are his icy blue eyes, which, though not unsettling in their own right, seem to accentuate his gaunt cheekbones, resulting in a stare that many would consider, as quoted by a former colleague "Right-out freaky, man".
Style: Victor's a bit of an odd cookie when it comes to clothing choices; even though he spurned the military life long ago, he still prefers to wear paramilitary-esque clothing. Mentally deficient in the "style" center of the brain, his choices in attire are few and far between. In fact, his "wardrobe" consists of mere copies of the same style of clothing; A pair of straight-cut navy colored cargo pants, a similarly styled
"Flora" patterned overshirt, (the sleeves of which he always rolls up to his elbows), and an olive-drab cotton photographer's vest, buttoned perpetually.
Though the concept of "style" is lost on him, Andreyev has a penchant for wearing very specific items that hold a special significance to him. For example, his footwear, a pair of high-topped combat boots, have been with him since his first day in the armed forces, and though they're scuffed and worn, he solemnly refuses to replace them, claiming that they're the only shoes he ever liked to wear. Along with this, he sports his old pair of dog tags, a non-working leather bound analog watch, and, peculiarly, a black-and-white tartan-patterned
shemagh, worn like a scarf around the neck (Like
this fine dutch soldier demonstrates). His
favorite accessory, though, is a pair of Horatio Caine-esque "Justice Shades" (Polarized Silhouette Titanium Model 8568 sunglasses, to be exact) which he keeps on his person at all times, just waiting for an opportunity within a conversation to give a cheesy one-liner, put them on, and walk away.
[Mental:]
Personality: Not surprisingly, Victor follows the emotional patterns one would expect from an (ex-)member of the special forces. Collected, cool-minded, and confident, he has an almost cocky "I've-seen-worse" attitude, and the knowledge to back it up. He walks with an almost exaggerated, confident swagger, and, unlike many people, who'd panic in a situation of mortal danger, he has a great capacity to think logically under pressure, as well as act upon it at a moment's notice. However, this can make him a bit over-confident at times, and he's been known to be flat-out rude to those with whom he doesn't agree. To sum it up, where Jesus would turn the other cheek, Victor would be more likely to sock someone in the jaw.
Some of this, however, is merely a defense mechanism. Almost obsessively, Andreyev feels a need to come out of every situation looking like he's on top of things, and when things get out of his control, especially in regards to conversation involving his past, he tends to get defensive, agitated, and sometimes outright violent. Also, he will sometimes display the common symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, including emotional detachment from others (especially women and children), excessive startle response, and a serious aversion to any mention of his military career. Ultimately, though, these negatives are balanced by positives, as he also commonly displays an excellent moral compass, a strong protective instinct towards those he views as "needy", and an inner fire that cannot, and will not be extinguished.
Personal Quote: "
Volkov boyat'sa — v les ne khodit'. (If you're afraid of wolves, don't go to the woods.)"
Likes: Music (Especially anything out of the 1970's British Punk Rock movement), ancient history, football (the European kind.), American television (especially shows like
CSI and
24, whose flagrant inaccuracies he loves to mock) and new experiences from which he can learn.
Dislikes: Attacks against his ego, innocent people suffering, loud, sudden noises, and the thought of reptiles, especially snakes.
Fears: Arachnids, heights, the thought of a higher power, and being unable to prevent the things he dislikes.
Life Goal(s): To begin life anew, and change the world for the better.
Favorite Band: Sector Gaza
Early History: Victor was born on January 21st, 1981 to parents Andre and Marie Basilyrov, in the city of St. Petersburg (Leningrad, at the time), Russia (The USSR, at the time). His youth, completely unspoiled by the turmoil in the country around him, was peaceful and happy, and thanks to his parent's guiding wisdom, he grew into a kind, good-natured little boy. On January 15th, 1987, his younger brother Vasili was born, and instantly, the two seemed to click. Even as he grew older and more distant from his parents, Victor always kept in touch with Vasili, convinced that his younger brother was bound for great things one day. Eventually, Victor made the transition to college, and with it, a physical move, this time, to the city of Stavropol. Enjoying frequent visits from his loved ones, he worked for four years to earn a degree in Egyptology, interested in his mother's family connection to the priesthoods of old. This would be a good life, Victor convinced himself, and for the time, it was.
But life isn't always grand, even for one whose world had been so perfect. On December 5th, 2003, on the eve of his graduation, Victor's life changed forever. That afternoon, as he sat in class, eagerly anticipating the arrival of his family from St. Petersburg for the Christmas holiday, he had no idea of the events that had been unfolding that morning. Just two hours beforehand, a suicide bomber from the little-known Chechen Republic detonated an explosive device on a commuter train just outside of town, killing fourty-three people, among which were Andre, (56) Marie, (60) and Vasili (16). When he heard of this, Victor was shattered. In one instant, the people he loved, his entire
world had ceased to exist. Before their bodies could even be properly identified, Victor had dropped out of school and, within a week of their funeral, had joined the Russian Army, boiling with hatred for the
dogs who had so ruined his life.
Almost immediately, Victor (by now going only by his first and middle name) proved to be an amazing soldier; adept, cunning, and more than willing to kill without fear, pity or remorse. In other words, perfect Spetsnaz material. After a six-month training period, he was accepted into Vityaz, the elite counter-terrorism wing of the special forces, and unleashed on the unsuspecting Chechen front. For three years he fought, earning a plethora of awards and distinctions, including the moniker "The Wolf of Grozny" in the process, until, one day, he mysteriously- and suddenly- quit. For reasons unknown to all but himself, Victor turned in his fatigues and disappeared altogether, dropping off of the global stage for good. Without so much as even a missing person's report filed, the "Motherland" was more than willing to let him go. After all, he was nothing to Russia anymore, as men often are.
Present Life: A few months after his unusual secession, Victor fell upon hard times. Never fully able to recover since the loss of his family, he wandered the lands to the south of the CIS aimlessly, expecting, indeed,
waiting to die like the dog he felt that he was. Though the award money from his distinguished service allowed Victor to coast for a time, soon, even these reserves ran dry, and, left with nothing but a map, some dirty attire, and a vague understanding of the English language, he headed further south still, angry vagabond by day, drunken rambler by night.
It was during one of these late-night alcoholic binges that, once again, Victor's life changed. While lying on the floor of a run-down bar in eastern France, he suddenly had a moment of clarity. Before the... "incident," as he called it, he had remembered overhearing his mother talk about some distant relative passing away, a member of some kind of "historical preservation group" or something of the like. Though he hadn't heard much of the conversation, one word from his mother's lips came to his mind, the relative's group's name; Kubri.
With a renewed drive, Victor cleaned up his act; dropping his alcoholism with an ease that would make any drunk jealous, he picked up any odd job he could find, all the while looking for any connection to the "Kubri" he had heard of so long ago. If anyone could help him understand this aspect of his roots, perhaps it would be them. Though it was a crazy idea, the mere thought of this kept Victor going, as he moved closer and closer to what he believed was his destiny. Where it would lead, however, was still a mystery.
Getting to Taurica Nesos: On February 8th, 2007, Andreyev's diligence paid off. One day, as he sat down to peruse his newly purchased laptop computer (which a two-month stint as a car salesman had paid for), an odd message appeared in his email. Short, sweet, and written in English (a language he had now mastered), it brought his search to a satisfying, amazing close: "We know who you are. We know what you wish to do. If you truly believe in you, then we will believe in you. Though you are not one of ours, you may yet serve us well. So, come, Victor Andreyev, and show what you can do." The email itself wasn't terribly exciting, but the signer was. Directly under the text, there was a latitude, a longitude, and one word...
...Kubri.
Before his head had even stopped spinning, the ex-soldier was on a red-eye flight to Greece, eager to see what his new life would contain.
Preferred Species: None. For now. We'll see where life takes him, first.
Sample Rps: The Wolf of GroznyCurrent Role: Though not a member of the Kubri by birth, Victor's family relations to the clan, as well as his skills as an (ex-) Spetsnaz have spared him from the fate so often assigned to those who make their way to Taurica Nesos. Put in charge of assuring that all "applicants" to the island are targeted discreetly, anonymously, and without any "ripples" in the international community, he serves as a sort of "Security Advisor", using his leadership skills (Once holding the rank of Lieutenant First Class, Vityaz Group "Beta" in his old "occupation") and intricate knowledge of clandestine operations to assure that not only will people never find out about the island, but that those that arrive will
never leave. Thanks to these efforts, (as well as his utility in general, thanks to a number of odd jobs,) he holds a slight prominence above most other "regular" humans in the eyes of the Kubri, something which he works vigorously to maintain.
((By the by, if you're having a stroke over what the text in the thread's title means, relax: It's just the word "Protector" in Cyrillic.))
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