Post by Mr. Kayvens on Aug 24, 2006 19:41:41 GMT -8
Name: Victor Cratowski Kayvens
Age: 23
Nationality: Russian
Teacher Class: Social Sciences
Height: 6'0''
Weight: 179
Personality: Rather kind and outgoing. He doesn't bother with trying to act tough, nor like some sort of scary ghost. He would much rather spend his time learning from his students then teaching to them, and that's how he runs his class. He saves up one third of it for his students to speak their minds to him. If it is mature the class discusses it. If it is mindless and useless, and they won't shut up. Well, Victor has nothing against beating them into the ground. He likes intelligent young minds, but hates the kind of rebellion that is in today's youth.
As good as that is, Victor does have a rather dark side. It's been building up in him recently, and he tries to avoid getting very angered because of it.
Appearance: Victor can be seen wearing quite a few things. However, he does have a preferred gear that he will wear when out. He has a darkish blue suit, that buttons up on his left side. He has somewhat darker blue dress pants to go with that, and stylish black dress shoes. He is normally seen with his glasses on, and almost never seen without a cigarette in his mouth. He prefers words to action, but he isn't exactly one to run from a fight.
History:
The earliest memories Victor has, starts around this point...
"Victor... honny.. RUN!"
It was the weak words of Victor's mother as the boy's father's hand was slowly closing around her neck. The man was in a psychotic rage, and to this day Vic doesn't remember what it was about. He was eight at the time, and very foolish. He had based his life on the teachings of superhero comics, and thought this to be his time to shine. He walked up to his father and started screaming at him to get off of his mother, and the only reaction he got was a boot flying randomly backward that, as planned, slammed Victor in the face and sent him tumbling almost into the fireplace. The father lifted his other hand in a fist, and brought it down onto the little boy's mother, knocking her unconscious. He turned toward the little boy who was on the ground, quivering in fear.
"Today is your day Victor. Me a man! FIGHT ME VICTOR. GET UP AND FI-.."
His father was interrupted. Victor was on one knee, after his lunge forward. His hand was extended, holding the handle of a large metal device. He had took the fire-poker, and shoved it into his fathers stomach. The little boy slowly stood up, letting the prod stick out of the man's stomach as a crimson thick liquid slowly ran down it. He stood right in front of his father, before him, his eyes looking up at him. Tears began to form around his eyes, but his expression stayed emotionless. He stood there, his face haunting his father, as if his own son had been possessed by some demon. In truth, his father knew he deserved it, but didn't know his son could do that. Slowly Victor's hand came up, and grabbed the handled, and he took a hard step back, pulling hard. A shout of pain came from his father, and he hit the ground, only to have the same weapon be shoved into the back of his head as he lay there.
From that moment forward, Victor's mother dedicated all her time to Victor. Not in a good way. She blamed him for his fathers actions, and even though the boy probably saved her life, she hated him for doing it. She knew there was only one way to get rid of him, and she beat him senseless with a bat, driving him out far to a city that was about twelve hours from home driving, and left him there to die. Up until age fifteen, Victor had only found a way to get up to grade nine education. The rest of his time he had to fight to survive. He had to be beaten by chains, steal bats, and pry bars just because he wasn't a local. He wasn't welcome, nor wanted. Victor had to beat down gang after gang, always coming out with too many injuries to go to school with. He had managed to get a night job working at a kickboxing-club, but that was all. Of course, that all changed when Victor was offered to stay at the club, for it to be is home. He couldn't help but say yes, and from that point forward the only fighting he did was training, and he managed to get some education.
When Victor finally got the education he needed to do his dream as a teacher, he got his third dan black belt as well. He heard of a local school that was known for punks and gangs, and knew that he wanted to go there and help straighten them out. He was accepted, and now would finally be able to have a high-enough paying job to get himself a house.
Age: 23
Nationality: Russian
Teacher Class: Social Sciences
Height: 6'0''
Weight: 179
Personality: Rather kind and outgoing. He doesn't bother with trying to act tough, nor like some sort of scary ghost. He would much rather spend his time learning from his students then teaching to them, and that's how he runs his class. He saves up one third of it for his students to speak their minds to him. If it is mature the class discusses it. If it is mindless and useless, and they won't shut up. Well, Victor has nothing against beating them into the ground. He likes intelligent young minds, but hates the kind of rebellion that is in today's youth.
As good as that is, Victor does have a rather dark side. It's been building up in him recently, and he tries to avoid getting very angered because of it.
Appearance: Victor can be seen wearing quite a few things. However, he does have a preferred gear that he will wear when out. He has a darkish blue suit, that buttons up on his left side. He has somewhat darker blue dress pants to go with that, and stylish black dress shoes. He is normally seen with his glasses on, and almost never seen without a cigarette in his mouth. He prefers words to action, but he isn't exactly one to run from a fight.
History:
The earliest memories Victor has, starts around this point...
"Victor... honny.. RUN!"
It was the weak words of Victor's mother as the boy's father's hand was slowly closing around her neck. The man was in a psychotic rage, and to this day Vic doesn't remember what it was about. He was eight at the time, and very foolish. He had based his life on the teachings of superhero comics, and thought this to be his time to shine. He walked up to his father and started screaming at him to get off of his mother, and the only reaction he got was a boot flying randomly backward that, as planned, slammed Victor in the face and sent him tumbling almost into the fireplace. The father lifted his other hand in a fist, and brought it down onto the little boy's mother, knocking her unconscious. He turned toward the little boy who was on the ground, quivering in fear.
"Today is your day Victor. Me a man! FIGHT ME VICTOR. GET UP AND FI-.."
His father was interrupted. Victor was on one knee, after his lunge forward. His hand was extended, holding the handle of a large metal device. He had took the fire-poker, and shoved it into his fathers stomach. The little boy slowly stood up, letting the prod stick out of the man's stomach as a crimson thick liquid slowly ran down it. He stood right in front of his father, before him, his eyes looking up at him. Tears began to form around his eyes, but his expression stayed emotionless. He stood there, his face haunting his father, as if his own son had been possessed by some demon. In truth, his father knew he deserved it, but didn't know his son could do that. Slowly Victor's hand came up, and grabbed the handled, and he took a hard step back, pulling hard. A shout of pain came from his father, and he hit the ground, only to have the same weapon be shoved into the back of his head as he lay there.
From that moment forward, Victor's mother dedicated all her time to Victor. Not in a good way. She blamed him for his fathers actions, and even though the boy probably saved her life, she hated him for doing it. She knew there was only one way to get rid of him, and she beat him senseless with a bat, driving him out far to a city that was about twelve hours from home driving, and left him there to die. Up until age fifteen, Victor had only found a way to get up to grade nine education. The rest of his time he had to fight to survive. He had to be beaten by chains, steal bats, and pry bars just because he wasn't a local. He wasn't welcome, nor wanted. Victor had to beat down gang after gang, always coming out with too many injuries to go to school with. He had managed to get a night job working at a kickboxing-club, but that was all. Of course, that all changed when Victor was offered to stay at the club, for it to be is home. He couldn't help but say yes, and from that point forward the only fighting he did was training, and he managed to get some education.
When Victor finally got the education he needed to do his dream as a teacher, he got his third dan black belt as well. He heard of a local school that was known for punks and gangs, and knew that he wanted to go there and help straighten them out. He was accepted, and now would finally be able to have a high-enough paying job to get himself a house.