Werewolf Triscuit
Clan:
Character description
Triscuit was born Triston Gracas a Deus von Hesse, to Mr. Vladimir Tiago Gussman and Mrs. Ekaterina Maria Aparecida do Norte von Hesse-Gussman on May 17th, 1986, in the villiage of Milagre on the portuguese island of Lusitania. His parents both died in November of 1992, when he was only 6 years old, from a virus called Descolada. The small Catholic town had been plagued with the virus ever since it had been settled only 20 years earlier, but his parents, the very two scientists who had discovered the cure for the disease, were ironically too late in their discovery to be spared. His parents were beatified by the Pope and a statue of Os Venerados was constructed in their honor. The town's grief for Os Venerados was real, and they had pity for Triscuit, but he knew that the grief they felt for his parents death was nothing compared to the relief they felt from the descolada epidemic having been ended. Triscuit was taken in by the Mayor of Milagre and he was treated well. Everyone in the town knew his past and was kind to him, but his entire life, he was alone. His own grief for his parents death was enough that he would wish death on the entire villiage at the hands of the descolada if he could have his parents back. He lived in the villiage for 20 years, acting as an active member of society, but never really belonging, until the day when WhiteBloodCell came to pillage his village...
Triscuit awoke that cold April Night to the sounds of screaming and the heat from the fire that was quickly devouring his small house. He grabbed his katana from the corner of the room and ran outside to face the danger. Outside, a small army of werewolves was spreading chaos and confusion throughout the town, murdering and destroying everything in their path. He watched as his neighbor, a classmate of his in his childhood days had his limbs torn off one by one. He saw the carnage and felt not anger, not remorse, but excitement. He kept watching as the body count rose and felt strangely relieved. Not caring for his own safety, he walked out into the center of town where a small band of men had gathered around the statue of Os Venerados and were struggling to fight off the onslaught of werewolves with axes and kitchen knives. Triscuit approached the group of men with his sword drawn, and as he did he felt his hatred for the community he had lived in for 20 years bubble to the surface, his anger starting to boil, his eyes already glowing with rage. He pushed through the tightly packed ring of men around the statue and knelt before his parents, Os Venerados, bowed his head, and performed the sign of the cross. Then he turned around and approached the man closest to him, and thrust his sword into the small of his back and it came out the other side, glistening with blood in the light of the fires that burned the town he hated so much. The cry of the man seemed to cause the entire town to go silent for a moment. Every other man around the statue turned around and stared at Triscuit. At this moment the shock set in and Triscuit started breathing heavily. His heart was racing as he scanned the faces of the men who had all turned their attention on him. The men who had all his life looked upon him with nothing put pity had revenge in their eyes now. There was no confusion in their faces, and he knew there was nothing he could say that could make it safe for him to be there anymore. It was then, when all the men had turned their backs to face the gruesome murder that Triscuit had commited, that the bulk of the werewolf army came down upon them violently. Some of the men turned their attention back to the werewolves, while some remained, their gaze fixed on Triscuit, hungry for revenge, undoubtedly these must be the ones who knew the dead man best, Triscuit thought. They all came down on Triscuit at once, but he fought them off, killing a few, while the werewolf army tore through the rest of the men. Meanwhile, the leader of the werewolf army, WhiteBloodCell was watching with interest as Triscuit fought so well against not the werewolf menace, but his own kind. When it was over and all the men surrounding the statue were dead, the werewolves formed a circle around Triscuit, and were slowly closing in, to savor the last kill of the villiage, as they sometimes did. Triscuit's rage had died with the last of the townsfolk, and all that was left was his fear. Trembling, he raised his sword and assumed a defensive position, ready to fight to the death with his brothers-in-arms in the bloody battle that had just taken place. WhiteBloodCell called out to his werewolf soldiers to stand down. The werewolves were confused, but one by one they all backed away, except one, the largest of the bunch, blood dripping from his fangs, and his eyes dark with a lust for blood. He lunghed at Triscuit but Triscuit quickly stepped to the left and brought his sword down upon the werewolf's arm, slicing it off. At this a few of the other werewolves became outraged and also began to advance but WhiteBloodCell grabbed one of them by the fur of his chest and raised him high into the air, once again shouting his order to stand down. The other werewolves backed down. The fire that was destroying the villiage was the only sound that could be heard for a moment as everyone awaited WhiteBloodCell's next order. Finally WhiteBloodCell ordered that the statue be destroyed. A werewolf carrying a bag of dynamite over his shoulder proceeded towards the statue to demolish it, but Triscuit decapitated him before he reached it. WhiteBloodCell advanced towards Triscuit, and Triscuit tried to attack WhiteBloodCell but with a swipe of WhiteBloodCell's paw his sword was flying across the moonlit sky, out of sight and Triscuit gasped for air as WhiteBloodCell's grip tightened on his neck. Triscuit's head began to swim, his vision becoming clouded with darkness...
Triscuit awoke the next morning with a large bloody gash on one arm and "W*W" branded on the other. He groaned as he stood up, his ears ringing and his head pounding. And when he looked up, the town was gone, everything destroyed, burned to the ground, except for the statue of Os Venerados, which was untouched. He limped over to his sword and picked it up, then continued walking down the path out of town, towards his destiny...
Triscuit awoke that cold April Night to the sounds of screaming and the heat from the fire that was quickly devouring his small house. He grabbed his katana from the corner of the room and ran outside to face the danger. Outside, a small army of werewolves was spreading chaos and confusion throughout the town, murdering and destroying everything in their path. He watched as his neighbor, a classmate of his in his childhood days had his limbs torn off one by one. He saw the carnage and felt not anger, not remorse, but excitement. He kept watching as the body count rose and felt strangely relieved. Not caring for his own safety, he walked out into the center of town where a small band of men had gathered around the statue of Os Venerados and were struggling to fight off the onslaught of werewolves with axes and kitchen knives. Triscuit approached the group of men with his sword drawn, and as he did he felt his hatred for the community he had lived in for 20 years bubble to the surface, his anger starting to boil, his eyes already glowing with rage. He pushed through the tightly packed ring of men around the statue and knelt before his parents, Os Venerados, bowed his head, and performed the sign of the cross. Then he turned around and approached the man closest to him, and thrust his sword into the small of his back and it came out the other side, glistening with blood in the light of the fires that burned the town he hated so much. The cry of the man seemed to cause the entire town to go silent for a moment. Every other man around the statue turned around and stared at Triscuit. At this moment the shock set in and Triscuit started breathing heavily. His heart was racing as he scanned the faces of the men who had all turned their attention on him. The men who had all his life looked upon him with nothing put pity had revenge in their eyes now. There was no confusion in their faces, and he knew there was nothing he could say that could make it safe for him to be there anymore. It was then, when all the men had turned their backs to face the gruesome murder that Triscuit had commited, that the bulk of the werewolf army came down upon them violently. Some of the men turned their attention back to the werewolves, while some remained, their gaze fixed on Triscuit, hungry for revenge, undoubtedly these must be the ones who knew the dead man best, Triscuit thought. They all came down on Triscuit at once, but he fought them off, killing a few, while the werewolf army tore through the rest of the men. Meanwhile, the leader of the werewolf army, WhiteBloodCell was watching with interest as Triscuit fought so well against not the werewolf menace, but his own kind. When it was over and all the men surrounding the statue were dead, the werewolves formed a circle around Triscuit, and were slowly closing in, to savor the last kill of the villiage, as they sometimes did. Triscuit's rage had died with the last of the townsfolk, and all that was left was his fear. Trembling, he raised his sword and assumed a defensive position, ready to fight to the death with his brothers-in-arms in the bloody battle that had just taken place. WhiteBloodCell called out to his werewolf soldiers to stand down. The werewolves were confused, but one by one they all backed away, except one, the largest of the bunch, blood dripping from his fangs, and his eyes dark with a lust for blood. He lunghed at Triscuit but Triscuit quickly stepped to the left and brought his sword down upon the werewolf's arm, slicing it off. At this a few of the other werewolves became outraged and also began to advance but WhiteBloodCell grabbed one of them by the fur of his chest and raised him high into the air, once again shouting his order to stand down. The other werewolves backed down. The fire that was destroying the villiage was the only sound that could be heard for a moment as everyone awaited WhiteBloodCell's next order. Finally WhiteBloodCell ordered that the statue be destroyed. A werewolf carrying a bag of dynamite over his shoulder proceeded towards the statue to demolish it, but Triscuit decapitated him before he reached it. WhiteBloodCell advanced towards Triscuit, and Triscuit tried to attack WhiteBloodCell but with a swipe of WhiteBloodCell's paw his sword was flying across the moonlit sky, out of sight and Triscuit gasped for air as WhiteBloodCell's grip tightened on his neck. Triscuit's head began to swim, his vision becoming clouded with darkness...
Triscuit awoke the next morning with a large bloody gash on one arm and "W*W" branded on the other. He groaned as he stood up, his ears ringing and his head pounding. And when he looked up, the town was gone, everything destroyed, burned to the ground, except for the statue of Os Venerados, which was untouched. He limped over to his sword and picked it up, then continued walking down the path out of town, towards his destiny...
Statistics
| Total loot: | 8,530.84 kgs of flesh |
| Victims bitten (via link): | 1 |
| Fights: | 125 |
| Victories: | 27 |
| Defeats: | 98 |
| Draws: | 0 |
| Gold gained: | ~ 1,000.00  |
| Gold lost: | ~ 3,000.00 |
| Damage to enemies: | 2404.2 |
| Damage from enemies: | 12448.6 |
The attributes of Triscuit:
| Character level: | Level 8 |
| Strength: |    (19) |
| Defence: | (19) |
| Agility: | (18) |
| Stamina: | (17) |
| Dexterity: | (17) |
| Experience: |   (343|320) |
The ancestral site statistics of Triscuit
| Attempted challenges: | 0 |
| Successful challenges: | 0 |
| Failed challenges: | 0 |
Profile
| Gender: | male |
| Age: | 20-25 Years |
| Hometown: | Rockford, Illinois |
| ICQ-number: | --- |
| MSN Messenger: | --- |
| Yahoo Messenger: | --- |
| AIM-Name: | --- |
| Jabber ID | --- |
| Skype ID | --- |
Arena
Triscuit has not yet achieved a special arena rank.
Triscuit has created 1 Werewolves so far:
| Darnos | Level 7 | Loot 7875.4 kgs of flesh |