Not very classy for someone's dying words
Character Themes
Character |
Battle |
Battle Struggle |
Tragedy |
Name: Bosco Cavellone.
Gender: Male.
Age: Twenty.
Birthday: December 12.
Sexuality: Heterosexual.
Special Characteristics:
Accenting and decorating those muscles are the array of tribal tattoos the ne'er-do-well has. There are a fair few; multitudinous in both colour and number. From head to toe: two tattoos of tomoes on Bosco's shoulders, ringed with triangles, the innermost inked in black, the outermost inked in blue and red; a tattoo of some sort of beast running from his back all the way up to his neck and coming around onto his chest -- the tail of the beast lines up perfectly with Bosco's spine, and seems to be crowned with two billowing and gaunt wing bones; tattoos of swirls around his upper arms inked in black; two tattoos of flames decorating his wrists, in alternating colours of blue and red. The multiple tattoos are Bosco's symbol of his rebellion; they go against the prim and proper look his parents have set up for the family name. Although it hurt to do his own tattoos and the tattoos he got others to do were equally, if not more painful, they are all surprisingly well inked.
Personality:
You'd perhaps expect a man whose parents are diligent, upstanding mages to have been raised in such a fashion that their ideals are rigid and decorous. Perhaps you'd also expect said parents to be proud of their offspring; another mage to the force -- one with much promise, no doubt, especially considering the lineage. Unfortunately, Bosco did not live up to the hype. In fact, he outright hated the fuss everyone seemed to make about him: why was he so special? It was a question he often found himself asking while the his villages inhabitance waited on him hand and foot, although not so often when they brought him toys and other such materialistic treats. On the contrary, Bosco is a delinquent. Plain and simple; trouble is game, and he wishes it was his name. He loves to create chaos, if only for the attention it brings him -- for the wrong reasons. It would appear as though Bosco is on a mission to make everyone around him rue the day they bought into the image of a family of outstanding mages, big-headed, big-paid and, in his opinion, big shitheads. In this way, he's quite the hypocrite, unashamedly so too; lavish things are only for those named Bosco Cavellone, and everyone else must work for it: if he doesn't feel like you've experienced such travails then the spiky white haired rabble rouser is quick to judge you as a baby born with the silver spoon in its mouth.
Impulsive, tactless and single-minded, Bosco can be likened to a freight train when he gets it in his head that something is wrong and he has to do something about it; nothing, absolutely nothing, and nobody, can stop him pursuing his belief right 'til the very end. He'll become selfish -- more selfish than he already is, at any rate -- sadistic, cold and calculating just to see the goal to the finish line. With a puerile charm he can flick on and off like a light switch, Bosco is surprisingly adept at being manipulative. Or rather, it seems like Bosco is surprisingly adept at being manipulative. He'll appear to try his damned hardest to keep everyone around him -- baring those he keeps close to his heart -- second guessing at what he'll do next: pull out a knife? Use his magical spells? Or run away behind a corner and pretend they're playing hide and seek? With Bosco, it's safe to say that no one is safe. Spontaneity is second nature to him, whether or not it's in speech, where he'll run out of relevant things to say and then start offending people, or in action, where he'll simply switch off and walk away from an acquaintance like they were just another face in the street. It's the reason he is sometimes referred to as 'Alligator Tears' -- the expression is deliberately malformed; Bosco likens himself to an alligator waiting in a lagoon, waiting for just the right second, the right-sized window of opportunity through which to burst into action.
However, despite his spontaneous and impulsive nature, Bosco has a deep sense of loyalty to those who've earned his respect -- those people are few and far between, and stored in a corner of his brain labelled 'don't kill; need around'. Despite how he may appear to be, Bosco is not a particularly decent human being. His impulsiveness perhaps allows him to not really understand the gravity of his actions, but really his parents are making excuses for him. He's a rotten child, with black hate-filled marrow in his bones. It's far too easy for him to run away from the fact that he's killed before -- that's why he embraces it. The hard way is so much more entertaining to Bosco; moreover it causes more problems for the people around him, and isn't that the most delightful spectacle? To the inked in troublemaker it certainly is.
Bosco has killed before. He will kill again. Cavellone has a perturbing volition to spill the blood of all he engages in combat with; through a twisted form of association Bosco has come to realize that the more blood he spills, the more likely it is that people will discredit his parents for the lousy job of raising a child they did and maybe even defame his family name. Maybe he's insane -- hell, he probably is insane. But Bosco has a real hankering for seeing his parents -- or even anyone around him -- crawl tooth and nail back up the social ladder, or at the very least struggle to stay in the comfortable state they've no doubt created for themselves. And to Bosco, blood is equal to triumph. It reflects in the sadistic way he utilizes his magical prowess: the more of the target's insides that end up outside, the greater the sanguine success. Maybe it's a metaphor; maybe Bosco sees the blood he spills on being on the hands of the villagers and everyone who bought into the lie of a 'chosen one'.
As a self-proclaimed 'artist', as evidenced by the multitude of tattoos upon his person -- which were either self-inked or done in a parlour to his own specific design -- Bosco is quite partial to living off the clothes on his back and subsisting on little more than scraps. Of course, this doesn't mean he won't complain famously about such hard times -- often he puts irking other people before his own wellbeing. Perhaps he is determined, perhaps he is crazy: all that can be said is that Bosco is a unique person in his own right, and that knowledge is his little piece of freedom from the world of prestige he's being dragged into. And maybe that's his sole redeeming quality, if there is to be light in this dark abyss he calls a heart. He knows what he wants -- freedom, pure and unadulterated, and it exhilarates him; a feeling that the world is your time bomb and it's all up to you when it'll explode... And it's that feeling he lives for. It's that feeling that drives him, that feeling that he'll do anything to attain again; it's like a drug, and if that's the case then Bosco doesn't ever want to get off. Boundless hedonism; perhaps the only heroic thing he'll ever achieve; ironically the only thing he truly wants. It goes against what the higher-ups want and maybe that's why he wants it so badly.
Likes:
Women: What can he say? At times Bosco is a shameless pervert who strives after lust. Not that he ever has any luck seducing the opposite sex to a point of mutual infatuation, but he damn well will try in sheer earnest. On his best of days he can be a suave thinker, debonair and smooth around anyone of the female persuasion, to the point he's often flirting or swooning multiple individuals in equal measure though his lack of commitment to the aforementioned ladies leaves most confused about his exact intentions.
Alchohol: The man has a tendency to drink when not on a mission granted to him from his guild. It helps pass the time and even disarms his sharp tongue for a time. Many will say he is a far more pleasant person after a few brews. His demeanor is more cheerful and he will actually open up more to his fellow guild mates. Unfortunately the prelude to his regained status as sober will give him pride enough to deny any claims to information he might have spilt the night before. However, the man is not moronic enough to fall under the persuasion of alcohol when on a mission.
Fighting: Well, this should not come as a surprise. The man has a taste for violence. He can restrain himself enough when the situation at hand demands it of him. However, he has an aptitude for inciting physical conflict where ever possible. Like a shark, the scent of blood will stir his hunger for prey, and at such times it is usually up to his guild mates to aid in the "controlling" of his spurts of desire.
Mocking Others: Oh how delightfully fun it is to make japes at unsuspecting nit wits. Bosco had never been a lad with self esteem problems. Who ever he thought to be below him;which was most, he'd find a way to make them rue the day they had ever made acquaintance with him. Did you just stumble over that flight of stairs? Well Bosco is now going to name you an "Airheaded Clutz". Have large ears? Bosco will now address you as "Dumbo the Elephant". You may actually find Bosco to be rather funny aslong as he was not directing his attention your way. He's rather unbiased with who he pokes fun at. Allies and enemies alike fall victim to his foul mouth.
Dislikes:
Loosing: Bosco is a sore looser and is not afraid to show it. He will find any excuse to relieve himself of his own self loathing for remaining second best or worse in any manner of endeavour. It is wise to watch this one however, as he has little honour and will do what ever it takes to gain the upper hand. After all, his morals don't restrict him from playing dirty. He is far too egotistical to let himself be defeated and call it a day. His pride always gets the better of him and he will relentlessly pursue a rematch, or attempt to grasp some form of second chance to win back his glory.
Goody Two Shoes: Bosco despises those that do everything in their power to aid others. Sure he's also part of a light guild, but that does not mean he's an angel by any means. He believes that every man has a good and bad side, and those that ignore a part of themselves cannot further themselves by living in denial. Where there is chivalry there is also cruelty. Generosity is accompanied by greed. One might hand over their own wealth while intentionally or not hoarding the respect and praise of his peers. Bosco detests such people, though he can tolerate them if need be.
Sobering Up: The pitiful drunken side of Bosco is what allows him to escape reality when need be. Deep down he knows that his true place in the world has yet to be found, and the realization that he's done nothing to further his own goals only depresses him. Loosing his state of drunken tomfoolery is like being smacked with a sack of bricks. It's back to life, and life can suck.
Motivations:
Fate: Bosco believes that his destiny does not lie within the bounds of his current standings. That is, affiliating with Blue Pegasus. However, he is yet to understand what fate has in store for him, and without any sense of direction he does not have the courage to stray from his current position as a guild mage.
Violence: The insatiable thrill of hurting others possesses an addictive temporary fulfilment to Bosco. Whether you are good nor bad does not matter. However, for the sake of not getting on his guilds bad side, more or less the hurt is brought upon criminals; not unlike himself. While some might wake up to a cup of coffee, Bosco much prefers a healthy morning dose of bashing someone's skull in. Unfortunately such excitement is ever so deprived from his daily routines.
Obtaining more booze: Alcohol costs money. Missions give money. Therefore Bosco must complete missions to buy booze. Simple enough aint it? He bloody well can't get drunk if his pockets are emptier than his heart.
Fears:
Boredom: Bosco hates being bored even more than he despises loosing. In fact, it cannot be classified as just simply disliking the state of being, but fearing it. He clings desperately to his duties as a guild mage for want of anything else to keep himself occupied. This may have some connection to why he drinks so much when off duty. It allows him to escape his fear if only momentarily.
Having no place in the world: The man will never admit it, but he has never felt that he truly belongs. However, what he tries to hide from and never confront is the possibility that there really is no reason for his existence. Bosco is more superstitious than he lets on and the fact that there is a possibility as to him having no overlying destiny to fulfil scares him. He'd rather just die and be over with it.
Regret: To say Bosco is a fraudulent, apathetic, mongrel of a man would mean you possess an unnatural bias towards this belligerent. Take off your rose tinted glasses, because he's rotten to the core and every aspect of his being more or less provides proof enough that he takes no heed towards his own actions. However, tying into the fact that Bosco withholds a doubtful belief in fate means that a gnawing fear engraved into his mind and soul dictates that dying without achieving what was expected of him is inexcusable. Thus said, he'll try to procrastinate on the whole "pushing up daisies" fiasco until he at least believes there's nothing remaining for himself to accomplish.
General Appearance
- Spoiler:
Height: Six foot six.
Weight: 220 lbs.
Hair: Snow white.
Eyes: Amber.
Skin Tone: Dark.
Appearance:
HEAD — Bosco has a rather average sized head. Protruding form his visage, he has a scar running down his left eye on his face and elongated canines which add a mysterious flavour of intrigue to his person, thus providing an animalistic look to him; they are especially prominent when he displays a wide grin. His hair is a shade of white with gray edges and is very spiky along the edges of his hair. His eye color is amber. In his left ear, he wears a small hoop earring that is white gold.
TORSO — Bosco spends most of his time during the day exerting physical strain on his body; and when he isn't doing anything important, drinking. His chest is very large and is splendidly cut around the edges. Around the stomach area Bosco has a very well balanced out eight pack. Therefore unlike his chest, he doesn't really have any fat around the edges so that every part of his muscles are seen perfectly in detail. This makes his chest slightly inflate over his stomach making him look more defined in muscle mass.
ARMS — Bosco's arms are probably the most defined muscles he has on his body. They are very large so that they match the size of his muscles. His triceps are very cut and every muscle's detail on the outside interior of the arm is visible while on the front interior of the arm just about all of his veins are clearly visible, but not too heavily. On his left hand in particular are the letters D, E, A, T, and H tattooed each on the back of his fingers.
LEGS — This would probably have to be the strongest part of Bosco's body being the most in shape. They are very defined in muscle definition. Only being average sized his legs also are just enough to match the size of his body. Overall, he stands at 6'6 FT and weights 220 LBS not counting the tacked on weight of all his clothing.
CLOTHING — In terms of clothing, Bosco could be described as a minimalist: he wears but a red hoodie and black trousers. Often he leaves his hoodie open too, the zip dangling, his body bare. The hoodie has long sleeves, but often Bosco is content to roll them up and display his flame tattoos. He wears black trousers with a tight fit, crowned with an inexpensive black belt which is adorned with holsters, making it some kind of utility belt. He doesn't actually use it for this unless it's opportune to do so; often there are just various dog tags hanging from it. According to Bosco they're a metaphor or some other ambiguous crap. When the weather gets hiemal Bosco zips up the jumper and puts his hood on for the majority of the time. He'll say something 'tough' about him not feeling the cold, but he's almost guaranteed to grumble when he has to stay outside for a long period of time. On his feet are black insulated combat boots, for all kinds of weather -- although when he purchased them he did not have this knowledge. Still, at least he's kind of protected.
Guild/Council
Guild: Blue Pegasus.
Tattoo: On his left buttocks; inked in white with a silver hue. He was drunk at the time and thought it would be hilarious.
Rank: D.
History:
- Spoiler:
- This little village is no place for a child of such prestigious mages.
That's what people kept saying weeks after Enka and Bellum Cavellone announced their plans. But people talk all the time, especially in a place such as a small rural village in the middle of nowhere; without communication there'd be no effective way to discover and deal with guild missions, and outlaws running rampant in the wide world Earthland. Still, Enka and Bellum would come to rue this same communication. It was, after all, the conduit through which rumours spread; rumours that developed into hype, and hype that caused their child to hate them all. At any rate, for the weeks running up to the birthing, the incredibly successful guild mages of the Blue Pegasus -- husband and wife -- were doing a good job of proving that you don't have to die to get to heaven. People were happy to wait on them hand and foot, were happy to oblige the expecting couple and for the months before their child was born one could have been forgiven for thinking some Nobles, or even Royalty, had set up shop in the small village of Norsca. The child was to be the son of two great up and coming mages -- surely he'd be the best of both of them? And with that reasoning Enka and Bellum's colleagues started to champion the unborn, toting him as 'The Chosen One' or 'The Next Big Thing'. One even went so far as to say 'The End of All Evil' was rumbling in the light guild mages stomach. Something was brewing in Enka's stomach, although something much more akin to the deepest, darkest and deadliest trouble than the snowy haired boy the villagers and guild mages alike expected.
The birth itself was not out of the ordinary. Enka and Bellum took leave for a few months after the birth. People took happy photos with the baby when the off-duty couple came to visit, many gifts were received and the after-birth glow Bellum carried seemed to be contagious; everywhere she went with her newborn, people would start to smile. She had named him Bosco, with no arguments from the father, and so Bosco the boy became.
Like most children growing up, Bosco soon became accustomed to being pampered -- although for the early years in his life it was because of his age, and not of his name. Mummy and Daddy were rich, and so what the baby wanted the baby got. Perhaps that was the first step in his journey to becoming a spoiled brat. At any rate, life was fairly uneventful for Bosco in his early years: when he was 18 months old Enka went back to work, and after his second Christmas Bellum followed. A guild-assigned childminder became the most prominent figure in the young Bosco's day to day life; it was she he would go to when he wanted something now, not mother, not father -- they were too busy being good mages. Day after day they'd come home from work -- or if Bosco was lucky, during their lunch break -- and tell of all the nasty outlaws they'd been busy defeating, and pontificate on how fortunate little Bosco was to have parents so diligent such as they: they're work was directly responsible for the level of safety the tyke was provided with. When they came home Bosco's eyes would proverbially cloud over with stars; he bought into all the stories of gallant escapades and glorious victory. How could he not? They were his parents; he had to believe what they said. If he didn't, what was there to believe in?
Despite the supposed celebrity of his parents, the novelty of it soon wore off on Bosco. Why didn't he get to see them perform such feats? It was like the story of the child factory he was told whenever he was naughty: where was said child factory? Why was there no army of children ready to take it down? The questions he asked were never answered, not for a long time anyway. Two years passed and Bosco was deemed old enough to come with his parents to work. This would prove to be the beginning of a hellish era -- for those lower ranked underling mages of his parents guild, at any rate. Spoiled children and workplaces of high stress are like cheese and chalk; they don't mix well together. Still, to complain would be tantamount to asking to be punished, and so they kept as quiet as they could, did as best as they could. The prospect of being ejected from his parents favour was one that loomed over any that disappointed Bosco. However, he was a child. He had no clue that he ruined people's livelihoods when he told his parents he never wanted to see a certain individual again.
Everything changed for the malignant youth after the death of his parents. For that matter, the death of the entire village he had grew up in. A beast of unimaginable power, only known to the general public through tales of old. To most he was known as a legend, a myth depicted in tales of evil doings and destruction in the hopes of giving little children the frights. The possibility of him existing was laughed upon by those that thought themselves far too mature to believe in fairy tails. Even at his young age Bosco was not exempt from believing that dragons were fake and non existent. That all changed on one fateful day...
By those that are even aware of his existence refer to him as Aether; the spirit dragon. A monster possessing cruel and unusual magical powers. A being that existed in both the world of the living and the dead. An ethereal being who made Bosco uneasy even after spending years as his apprentice. Their meeting was decided as fate as Aether put him. In his own words "fate led me to you". The dragon had descended upon the peaceful, if not plain village, in the dead of night. Bosco had been up to his usual shenanigans, adventuring in the nearby woods. He had found it much more exciting to spend his time risking his own hide in the off chance trouble caught up to him. In this case his parents had forbid him to venture out after dark, but of course the boy had snuck out in retaliation to authority. By sheer luck he was not caught within the range of the dragons breath, which seemed to sap the life out the villages inhabitance instantly. Unlike other dragons who may have breathed fire or ice, Aether released a torrent of ghostly beings that sapped the will of their victims until their life energy had been entirely snatched away.
Bosco did not return to the village until well after destruction had been wrought. Though the vile dragon remained, as if he withheld some form of knowledge that a single villager remained. The boy could not believe his eyes when first he laid them upon the place he once called home. Mangled corpses lay strewn to and fro, as if they were nothing more than disposable waste. With legs turned to jelly, Bosco was incapable of escape. Not that it mattered anyway, Aether was alerted of the boys presence the instant he had appeared by the edge of the neighbouring woods. With pale bluish-silver eyes, the dragon inspected Bosco as if he was a canvas of fine art. "You have come at last...child. Fate led me to you. And now I have relinquished any connections you may have had to this putrid village. You will come with me at once" was all that the dragon said when first they met. How else could a child react but the stand there petrified. Bosco couldn't even be moved to tears he was so fearful. Years later he would reflect upon this night with fond memories; stating that he was filled with feelings of ecstasy and anticipation, not fear. Without so much as struggling Bosco allowed himself to be scooped up by Aether's claws and was carried off to a mountainous range even now unknown to the man. It was there that he learned to utilize dragon slayer magic. For years he trained and consumed knowledge passed down to him by his "foster parent" and mentor. Bosco never inquired as to why Aether chose him, but his mentors belief in a higher being and that fate grasped every being, living or dead, rubbed off on the lad.
It was not until his late teens that he was given permission to find his own place in the world. Aether had left him as abruptly as he had took him under his own wing. Bosco, knowing not what he should do with himself, returned to his parents guild. It was all that he remembered of the world beneath the mountain tops. Within the walls of the Blue Pegasus Bosco remained until his current age of Twenty Two. Completing missions, drinking, and awaiting his own fate kept him occupied until present.
Face Claim: Nichol D. Heyward, Jackals
Last edited by TINGLE on 8th July 2012, 5:25 pm; edited 3 times in total