SLICKSON, LLEWELYN "YAHWEH" Apr 24, 2014 22:05:56 GMT -5
Post by mo money on Apr 24, 2014 22:05:56 GMT -5
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lleweLlyn ambrose slickson
Yahweh is essentially driven by the instinct to survive, and more often than not he relies on primal, primitive instinct and in these instance has only the basest of morals. Some would call him immoral for some of the things he's done but he prefers to be called amoral more than anything, because what he does is not to harm any one else, it is simply to keep his heart pumping and his insides where they ought to be. Not aggressive by any means Yahweh would sooner run from a fight than get his ass kicked, and is thus often labeled a coward. Oil off a duck's back, though, as it has saved his neck several times over. He reacts as an animal would react first and foremost in violent confrontations: either trying to hide and go unnoticed, maybe transition into bluffing and snarling and puffing himself up to intimidate and if that doesn't work, get the hell out.
He's a friendly sort of fellow once you get past the weird exterior of animal skins, dreads and dirt. He'll talk your ear off if he likes you well enough, but it is hard to get him to stop moving long enough for him to even start a conversation. He doesn't stay in one place very long, avoids people when he can, and always lives and sleeps alone making it nigh on impossible to make friends with him. He struggles with wanting to remain secretive and wanting to be sociable -- depending on how he perceives the other person, he will either divulge too much information or none at all. He has essentially crafted an appearance that will drive people off without him having to say a word--a crazed wild man with a penchant for anthro skins and feathers, who seems friendly to your face but has that sort of sketchy and a bit too friendly look about him that leaves you guessing, suspicious. He wants people to be as suspicious of him as he is of them, mostly because it keeps them moving, keeps them from wanting to stay in the area. For the most part he tends to keep himself cold and standoffish towards people and they respond in the like, but sometimes they catch him in a position where he's forced to act friendly.
He has a fascination with death and with taxidermy, hence the skinning of Anthros (Creatures unlike any he had seen before the Menagerie) but despises the act of killing itself. He has never, and will never, kill an Anthro for its pelt and will only harvest what he finds. He has only killed twice, and both times were in self defense and as he likes to believe, almost entirely accidental; he didn't mean to kill them, so it's okay. Right?
As such, Yahweh rarely hunts live prey preferring to use his possum shift to scavenge and digest any type of meat he may find from dead animals. He tends to lean toward a diet of insects and fruit anyway. Yahweh abhors the Rings equally and liberally, giving them wide berth and never wandering into their territory. He seldom (if ever) wanders into No Man's Land because the Ringers frequent the land too much for his liking. He understands their loyalty and wars and whatnot but wants absolutely nothing to do with their petty squabbles over land and more likely, hurt feelings.
Yahweh was born as Llewellyn Ambrose Slickson, named after his father and his father before him, all the way back to his great-great-grandpappy. He was born a sickly child in the backwoods of the Appalachian Mountains in North Carolina, a small squatter settlement by the name of Crickwood tucked away in the forested hillsides. He was a lonely kid, an only child after his younger brother died at only a year old. His father passed away early on from a heart attack, and his mother did her best to be there for little Llewellyn. He wasn't able to roam about outside when he was younger, suffering from an illness his mother didn't know the name of. She couldn't afford a UNIT hospital, so she took him to a backwoods doctor that everyone just called "The Doc."
Eventually, Doc fixed the issue and Llewellyn was healed, finally able to venture out into the thick forests around his small shack. He spent most of the next few years prowling through these woods, sometimes camping out for weeks at a time if he could, while his mother worked and spent most of her time at the bar. It was in those woods that Llewellyn discovered his ability to shift. He was around 10 years old when he stumbled across a mother bear and her cubs grazing on berries; the bear cub spooked and its mother reared up in defense, charging at Llewellyn. Scared witless he stumbled backwards but found himself clawing at the ground with paws instead of hands, and the scream that came from his mouth was a loud, shrill yelp. He managed to scrabble to his paws and run, managing to lose the angry mama bear and hide in a bush.
He wasn't sure what had happened--maybe some witch had cast a spell? Old Man Moses up on the hill had said there was a witch in the woods that sometimes turned little boys into toads when they were bad. But he wasn't a toad, he was some kind of dog. Maybe a wolf? He spent the next ten minutes staring at his paws in wonder, wiggling his ears and tail, wondering at the new smells flooding his senses. He liked it! He wriggled his way from his hiding place and plodded on awkward, ungainly paws towards his house. Would Mama want to keep him? Would he have to eat and drink from bowls on the porch, like the other dogs? He found his way back to the house but as he walked up the steps a blinding flash of pain came over him and he collapsed to the floor--when he woke again he was human.
Confused, it took Llewellyn a couple of weeks before he shifted again and he realized that it wasn't a witch that had cast a spell. It was his ability to control, and he loved it. He spent more and more time in the woods, scavenging fruits and nuts, eating insects and funnily enough when in his shift form he bonded with a small group of coyotes, a mother and her three cubs. The coyote mother sort of adopted him as he was still a pup in his shift form, and he spent a few weeks with them, learning to hunt (though he didn't really like it) and tussling with his new found siblings. It was the happiest he'd been in years.
His mother, though a shifter herself, never knew of her abilities--and when she found out about her son's...the first thing she did was faint. When she woke up and still saw some dog-like creature with her baby's eyes staring at her, she knew they had to keep it secret, or it'd be a witch hunt in the blink of an eye. There were legends of nightmarish monsters who hid in human form, legends as old as the mountain. So she locked Llewellyn in the house, shuttered the windows and started packing.
They spent the next few years traveling from place to place, never staying in one place for long. Llewellyn had never really gone to school, his Mama preferring to teach him at home when she could (he could read and write, and was something of an autodidact). They settled in an area where Dahlilah thought it was safe from prying eyes, and to fit in better she sent Llewellyn to school. It was here, where his mother thought he would be safest that he was actually caught. When the hunt for Shifters became worldwide and the school systems started mandatory blood tests it wasn't long before Llewellyn was caught. His mother was caught as well, unbeknownst to Llewellyn, and died later in testing.
Llewellyn was 15 when he was captured and released after a few rounds of physicals and sample harvests. He had no idea what was happening, not really--all he knew was that he was on his own. He made his way to the nearest woodlands and spent the next few years hiding out in whatever territory he could eke out, never straying into the city. He spent years isolated in the Retro lands before the Retros had been released into the dome. It was hard for him, being so young and so alone, but he had spent several years in the forests back home and was well equipped to survive. He ran across a few wanderers like himself and made a friend or two, but both ended up moving on. One died, the other didn't feel like sharing supplies any longer and robbed him while he slept. Since then Llewellyn has kept to himself, adopting the name Yahweh because he'd read it in a book once and rather liked the sound of it; too many people had laughed when he called himself Llewellyn, that and he felt that it tied him to another life, another person. As Yahweh he didn't have to think about the past, about his Mama; all he had to think about was Yahweh.
Not much has changed for him in the six years he's managed to survive in the dome. Several close calls, flash floods and blizzards, a couple fires and a broken arm that he set himself. No real friends to speak of, excepting the second head that miraculously sprouted from the neck of his shift form, thanks to the Keepers. It keeps him company on the long, lonely nights.