Biography ~*
Name:
Veyugan Galyant
Nationality: Czech-American
Age: 21
Height:6'4
Weight: 213
Body fat % - 4.26%
Hair color: Dark Brown
Eye color:Naturally Brown
White Contacts
Appearance:
Summer Wear
Autumn Wear
Winter Wear
'The Pretentious' Look
Business Casual
Head Since leaving PHS #259 behind while he traveled around the globe, Veyugan had decided to leave behind his typical hairstyle. Instead of letting it grow to his shoulders, lately the Czech has been keeping it cut short. However, the 'new do' has brought attention to his eyebrows. Naturally, when ignored, they quickly become bushy. Every once in a while he'll manage to trim them down, but is typically too lazy. Finally able to grow a full beard, the Czech takes pride in his facial hair. He is usually seen with a 'five o'clock shadow.'
Upper BodyVeyugan's upper body is well taken care of. Although not as muscular as his legs, his muscles clearly bulge out from pretty much any article of clothing he wears. However, his frame is not by any means unwieldy in combat. The Czech frequents the gym and works on keeping his muscle toned as opposed to bulking his body up. In fact, over the past few years, Veyugan had lost quite a bit of weight slimming down his muscle size. However, he has developed a routine of strength building where his muscle is streamlined. Smaller, yes, than strength training for density, but is nearly just as strong. Aside from his legs, Veyugan's pride and joy is his core. His abdomen sports a cut and lean six pack of abdominals, with the outlines of an eight pack. Aesthetically, his muscle ridden body is covered with several scars that show where the Czech has been cut, stabbed, etc.
Lower BodyTake your weaknesses, and turn them into your strengths.One of the Czechs weakest points in his body had been his left leg, as it had been fractured several times before. However, undergoing extensive surgery within the past few years for yet another break, Veyugan opted to have a titanium alloy coat cover the weak points in the bone. Costly, yes, but effective nonetheless. His legs are more like tree stumps. However large, very powerful and able to supply swift, deft movements. A kick from this Goliath ... Would not be enjoyable.
Personality:Cold, calculated, chaotic.
The Czech doesn't have your typical 'warm' personality. In fact, regarding his history, he is surprised any emotion still exists within his being. Indifference is one of his outstanding qualities. Honestly, the man just doesn't care about what's going on around him. At a moment's notice, he'll walk away from any situation, merely out of boredom. He isn't afraid to speak his mind, and does so frequently - regardless of who he might offend. For someone to warrant an emotional response from Veyugan would require a miracle, or a really cute girl.
Nearly every decision that is made by Veyugan - aside from those made while he drifts out of consciousness into a separate plane of thought - is calculated. His intelligence may not surpass many he meets, so he relies on wisdom, past experience, and luck to reach a desired outcome. Something that has worked very well for him so far. If Veyugan decides to act, there is a reason behind why he decided to. Being a self-centered utilitarianist, the action usually only serves to benefit himself. Or someone who should consider themselves lucky.
Upon the fence of moral standing, Veyugan doesn't follow your typical guidelines. Like a riot, no one knows exactly what is going to happen. How long it's going to last, how far the rioters are going to go, and to what extent the damage will be. Any action performed by the Czech is not made with intent to 'do good' or 'do evil,' therefore, he can only classify himself as 'chaotic.'
Philosophically, as mentioned before, Veyugan is a Utilitarianist.
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Strengths: Due to the fact Veyugan has been fighting consistently, in several countries, for over a decade, he prides himself on his ability of reading attacks. From your typical punch to a 'what-in-the-fuck-did-he-just-do?,' he's seen it all. Now, while nearly every style of fighting is different, they all stem from a common origin. Veyugan's mind is able to pick up on subtle hints the body displays before and as an attack is being made.
A strong passion of the Czech is mind manipulation. Something that, despite not being very charismatic, he is very well versed at. Honestly, the way that he proceeds in manipulating someone is done better without speaking much at all. Therefore, his lack of charisma tends to benefit him. One reason he is so skilled at getting inside people's heads is due to the fact he is an avid studier of philosophy. He understand why people make the choices they make - and is able to influence the next choice they make. Sometimes, even make it for them.
Weaknesses: Seeing as his fighting style is solely defensive, Veyugan is vulnerable for defeat while on the offensive. His body is not as fast as his mind, so while defending and reading attacks thrown at him comes easy, being the first to attack, and trying to react to a counter-attack doesn't come easily for the Czech. Even on the defensive, sometimes he is able to read an attack, and formulate a counter in his mind, but his body, due to his muscle mass, is unable to perform it in time. However, this of course depends on the nature of attack, and the difficulty of the counter. One dimensional and two dimensional attacks are easy, but three dimensional attacks are difficult for him to deal with.
The Czech is not a quitter. Once he puts his mind into something with the intent on finishing, he will push himself, regardless of circumstance to accomplish his goal. There have been many times where hospitilazation has resulted. During fights, even if he realizes it is a futile battle - as in there is no way he will win - Veyugan will try any and everything to change the nature of the battle to his favor. Again, many times hospitilazation has occured. In a sense, he'd rather go down fighting than consciously face a loss.
Women. The Czech is a sucker for attractive women, and strangely enough - is an entire different person around them. Although, his idea of attractive is far from 'ordinary.' Veyugan prefers brunettes, as opposed to blondes. Shocker. In his experience, blondes are only good for 'fun.' They are rarely interesting to talk to as he finds most of them air-headed and conceited about the way they look. Qualities that attract Veyugan are first and foremost: Chemistry. If the pair just seem to vibe together, he's dead-set on sticking it out with them to see where it goes. Other qualities include: Ability to carry a conversation, a good sense of humor, a
good genuine personality, and an interest in literature.
Note: Veyugan will absolutely refuse to fight a girl nine times out of ten. He'd rather get his ass beat then hurt a female. But sometimes ... a bitch just needs to get put in her place.
History:He was born in Czechoslovakia and at the age of 2, his parents divorced, and his mom moved to America. His dad was a hardcore alcoholic, and beat him regularly. His dad never praised him, and always told him he was doing everything wrong, thus, his inability to take criticism. At the age of 10, his dad broke his left leg with a baseball bat, and Vague ran away and joined a gang, lying to say he was 13. He was raised by the gang, and his taste for crime was never quenched, whether it be beating up random kids, or stealing various things, he was never satisfied.
Veyugan was a small child, aged to about eleven years of age. He was running with the Czech Krewk. A gang formed of children, teens, and even some adults that he used to run with while living in Chezchoslovakia. He joined the group at 10 years of age. The minimum age was 13, but he had lied to gain entry. He was running with Novak Grudski and Krocka Havok. Two members of the gang who were close friends of his. Novak was around the age 18, and Krocka was 16. Veyugan was supposed to be age 14 at that time. They were terrorizing the city streets after a riot broke out when the Czech Wrecks lost the national soccer championship. Neither of them gave a shit about soccer, they just wanted an exscuse to terrorize. In hand, Krocka held a nine millimeter pistol. Novak held a semi automatic MAC. Veyugan held a 16 inch machetter. Four inches wide at the tip. The blade was razor sharp, and could cut through a tire with a hard swing. So it could easily penetrate the skin, and cause fatal damage. Many people were just running the streets punching and kicking. Veyugan and them were the only ones on that side ot the town with guns and melee weapons. The three had their backs to eachother, creating a triangle type formation. They dispersed upon the crowd, beginning their onslaught. Gun shots fired as Veyugan swung his machette upon an approaching male who was aged to about 47 years of age.
The blade sliced neatly through the guy's left shoulder, causing the arm to fall to the ground, along with the guy. Shock. He turned, and a punch landed on his cheek. He was knocked to the ground, and the blade fell to his side. He scrambled to his feet as the guy tripped. Veyugan stood, and picked the machette up. The man pushed himself up with his arms, and was in a push-up like form. Quickly, Veyugan swung the machette down, slicing through the mans spine, dismembering his head from the rest of the body. The man fell to the ground, dead. Blood spewed from the neck, and Veyugan threw up upon the man. He turned to see a woman, seeming to be the man's wife spray him in the left eye with pepper spray. Veyugan blindly swung the machette, ripping the woman's stomach apart. The small intestine fell to the groudn as the woman shrieked in pain. Again, Veyugan threw up. At eleven years of age, he wasn't ready for this. Finally, the riot police showed their faces. They closed in upon the part Veyugan was at, but not before Veyugan - again in defense - sliced a man's skull in half with a horizontal slash. The man's brain fell upon the side walk, and Veyugan dropped the machette on the ground, watching as the silver glinted in the sunlight. The blood covering half of it. The handle was rusty. That's the last thing he remembered of that day. Besides feeling a large and painfull shock course through his body.
He woke up in a prison cell, getting paid off for by his gang. The cops were crooked in Czechoslovakia. They only controlled the riot to protect the city. Veyugan later learned that day that Krocka and Novak were both gunned down by the riot control, and his self was shot with a stun gun, causing him self to black out. Veyugan believed that the black out was helped by the blood he shed that day. The image of the machette stained his mind, and never left...
At the age of 12, he was arrested for assualt against an officer, and was sent home to his father. Upon his homecoming, his father beat him viciously and sent him to life with his mother in America. When he got to America, he was put into a rehabilitation center for anger management, or so that's what everyone thought. His problem wasn't anger management. He had some type of disease. A disease where, enraged to a certain degree, he couldn't control his actions. Often, when provoked, he would kill. Kill numerous people. With no knowledge of what he was doing. He had begun to learn how to control himself in this stage, but he lost that knowledge by being put in a rehab center.. A year later, he came out, a changed person at 13 years old. At 14, he experienced many things he had never seen before, and put his fighting experience into good use, at numerous martial arts gyms in his local area. He became infascinated with the series Dragonball Z and designed his own clothing to match a characters. His friends were bad influences on him and his changed ways, and drug him back to his old self. He was expelled from his school for assualt against his physical ED teacher and was sent to public school number 552...
EditUpon his coming to 552, he was instantly intrigued by a name that he heard all over the place. The name wasn't of a person, place, or item. What it was - was a group. An organization. A gang. One of the - if not the most notorious gangs of its time. The gang he seeked out was named Nocturne, and was led by a certain ruler that Veyugan looked up to. A friend that he would come close to later in his career. The man's name was Auroth. He was upheld to be one of the most powerful at 552, and he could prove it with his strength and wisdom. He held the gang together himself - with little help from other members. Two main officers Veyugan had met were named Celeste and Vidan. Celeste was the one who was there when he was trying to find Auroth in the massive maze of a building, and she stuck with him till he left. Vidan was a training partner he sparred with. A very smart man with a lot of knowledge of the human body, and its pressure points. Almost as quickly as he had joined, the gang met it's downfall. It's conclusion. Some say Auroth had gone mad, or depressed. He left the gang, and with no leader, nor any real secondary leader, the gang disbanded. Veyugan felt empty afterwards, and wandered around, until he became a sophomore.
Upon becoming a sophomore, he was drafted by another leader of a gang - Vetis of Reign of Blood. It seemed that this Vetis guy had seen him in action, or sensed something about Veyugan. Something about him that made the gang leader himself come looking for him. After a few one-sided words, a spar took place. A test. Clearly outmatched, Veyugan fell quickly, but Vetis didn't persist in the fight. He was just testing Veyugan - seeing what he could offer, and what he could gain with more experience. Vetis saw something in Veyugan he himself didn't see, and he worked to pull it out. To make Veyugan stronger. As the gang grew, it's popularity soared. Titles were given out to the respectable RoB members, and the title given to Veugan was 'The Future.' A liking to this name was created, and Veyugan started to go by it, adding it to his name - although it was rarely spoken. After joining, by doing certain things within the gang, he was promoted to a higher ranking. By helping his comrades on a rooftop battle - even when he faced defeat, he was promoted.
Upon his 18th birthday, he asked himself why he was still a sophomore, and questioned his own abilities. He settled on the fact that he could still graduate, and he would plan on it. He worked hard, and is still currently trying to graduate to a junior class ranking. He is tired of being called the notorious sophomore...
A little 'vacation'.[/color]
Over-populated and over-rated. That was the reason he had left the infamous city of New York. To seek shelter from all it's abnormalities and the effect that the exposure of violence had left him with. During the time of living within the city, he had grown a deep detest for everything that drew a breath. Why? He didn't know. Jealousy? Was he jealous towards everyone for being better off than him? Jealous that others had a family to go to, friends to be with? Companions to love? Was it jealousy? It could have been another reason. The fact of knowing that he had to live with the deaths of his parents on his shoulders ... depression? Was he truly depressed, and taking out his pain on others? It was true, whenever he used to live within the city, Veyugan was a true fuck up. Even if he did have everything. All the materialistic things. Two fast and damn good looking cars, an enormous house, money whenever he needed it. A reputation in a gang to die for. A fighting record of no losses. He truly did have alot. But, he also lacked as much.
Upon leaving the city, Veyugan immediately began to feel lighter. Happier. He was growing away from the depressed stage in which he had lived for years. The blood lust. The crime-rate. Every negative thing about him began to decline steadily. Veyugan was growing a good side to his personality, and it showed. He began to do charity work, feeding the homeless and picking up litter. All little things at first. Then, he gave away his entire net-worth away toward the search for a cure for AIDS. A value of a little less than a million dollars. However, no matter how many people thanked him for his donation, he was left with nothing - no clothes. No food. Slowly, he began to slip back into that depressed stage once more. Fights began to happen again. He never lost. He never drew. Win after win, he began to gain a reputation again. Something he didn't want. Again, he moved.
Even now, Veyugan didn't know where he was at all. He simply drifted to where ever he was led. Once more down a cold, lonely path, he was brought to a truly horrible loss. His ribs were broken, as was his nose, his pelvic bone as well as multiple fingers and other small bones. He was a bloody, broken mess. It was then, laying there in a puddle of his own blood when he truly felt defeat. The feeling that he had caused many. He swore to himself, that no matter what - no matter how depressed he got. He would never take it out on another human. A weight was lifted as he felt his body being lifted by small, fragile hands. Nothing more remains within his memory of that day. He must have fell unconscious as the girl saved him from certain death.
The girl - Carly - had taken Veyugan in after she rescued him from the dumpster of death. She had taken him to the hospital where he was pronounced comatose. He was in a coma for a week straight, and during that time - Carly requested for Veyugan to be brought to her house for supervision. Finally, Veyugan awoke from the coma. Coughing heavily, he had woken up next to the attractive girl named Carly. He was weak, and many bones were broken, but he didn't dare to show weakness. Not in front of her. As he began to regain strength, he had numerous conversations with the girl that saved his life. He learned a few things about the night where he was ambushed in an alley and shoved into a dumpster. She had been sitting in her apartment when she saw the three men attack Veyugan. After witnessing them shove his body into the dumpster and walk away, she quickly ran to the alley and removed him from the dumpster - taking him straight to the hospital. Every time they talked, something in Veyugan made him smile. Every time, he couldn't help but smile. It seemed ... that she couldn't help it either.
One day, Veyugan awoke to see Carly gone. A letter remained with his name on it. With shaking hands, he retrieved the letter, and opened it - reading its contents slowly.
---`
Veyugan,
I'm sorry for not saying goodbye, but I can't let myself get attached to you. I had to leave. I'm married with three children, and I could tell through our conversations that I was beginning to feel a spark between us. Something solid. I couldn't have that, not with a husband. You can use my apartment for the time being, until you are ready to leave. I'll be at my husband's. I'm so sorry for what I might have done to you but, please ... do not try to contact me.
Get well soon,
Carly.
---`The letter dropped to the floor as his body moved violently, getting to a sitting position. Painfully, he managed to get up to walk. It had been three weeks since the attack, and he was beginning to recover. Even if he did still have slightly healed broken bones, he was still fragile. He had to take it slow, even if he was feeling depressed again. Veyugan didn't know what to do. He walked slowly about the apartment until he couldn't take it anymore. He had to leave - get out of this town. He wanted to go. Leave. Never go back to New York, or this shitty town. He didn't want to see Carly again. He needed it. Although ... he knew he couldn't. He was weak, and he couldn't travel. He would have to stay in this painful state, living in the apartment which he hated. It would take strenous training to get him back to his prime self, but he would try his hardest.
---` Searching for a new home.
[/color]
Bangages, cast molds, and gauss all lay at his feet as Veyugan looked at himself in the mirror. His arms were dropped down grasping the edges of the sink as he flexed each muscle in his body for a short time. His bones were newly repaired, his appendages functioning properly. He was fine, but not at his peak. At least he could travel now, and that's all he wanted. Letting the bandages stay where they fell, he grabbed his only pair of clothes and slipped them on. The familiar green undershirt and black track pants. Freshly washed, ready to go. He slipped on his boots, and was out the door - heading home. He traveled for days, not stopping for anything other than directions. Fatigue was present, but he carried on. He would not stop. Nothing could stop him.
---` Another coast line. Another home.[/b]
His travels were long and strenous, but be managed to travel without any major difficulty. Veyugan had avoided confrontation with any police, and managed to get away with only a few fights under his belt. Blind, he went. Letting one road lead to another, and that one, to another. He didn't stop, he didn't look back. He just kept going. Until he came upon a state that looked promising. 'Welcome to California'. Welcome indeed. The climate was perfect, the air was new. New. A smile spread across his thin lips as the word flooded into his mind, being repeated over and over. New. A new life. Something Veyugan wanted dearly. However, many nightmares would be in this state, in the town he would wind up in particular. Although he had traveled from 552 alone, many memories came with him. Living memories.
The Public Highschool #259 looked just like #552 had looked to him when he first arrived. Promising. Flowing with talent. With his Kris strapped tightly at his side, he ventured onward into the school, looking to transfer from 552, and become a full-fledged junior at 259. Veyugan didn't know what to expect, but anything would be better from where he came from...
More regarding where Veyugan has been the past few years coming soon.
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