Player Info
Name: Cat
Age: 16
Role play experience:I've been roleplaying for close to nine years. unfortunately, i haven't improved much since I began[i'm not bad though, believe me]


Character Info

General

Name: Cammela Michael Landon
Age: 24
Sex: Female
Height: 5' 9" [5'11 in heels]
Weight: 143
Eye Color: Chocolate Brown
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Avatar: Kate Beckinsale



The Detes

Physical Description: Cammie is a tall, pale female with a muscular build and exaggerated curves. Her dark locks extend past her shoulders, almost to her elbows in piecy, textured curls, framing a pale, oval face outfitted with large, dark lips and a narrow nose. Her black-lined almond shaped eyes are always searching, wondering, betraying emotions and thoughts. Cammie can not lie well unless her eyes are covered. They betray her, as do her thin eyebrows. Raising in surprise and furrowing in confusion and anger, her eyebrows assist her eyes in giving away her position and opinion.

Large breasts and child-bearing hips accentuate her small waist, giving her well muscled torso an hourglass look. Legs extending from said torso are long and muscled from constant use and end in large, narrow feet. Cammie knows how to use her body. Not as a tool of lust or manipulation, but a tool of offense and defense. She is constantly working to keep her body in mint condition, as she never knows when she shall need a good defense.

Cammie's body is almost always covered in tight-fitting clothes. A red, black, or purple corset almost always adorn her top half, and a pair of tight black material pants w/ no pockets extends down her bottom half, tucked into a pair of rather large leather combat boots that hold her money and dagger. A semi-automatic is tucked into a black belt worn around her waist. Her hair is always down, completing her dark look.

Personality Explanation: Inside, Cammie is a curious child, stuck in the land before the Virus [also known as Cammie-Land]. She secretly refers to herself as Cammie, although she'll only tolerate her closest compadres[that means no one] to call her such. Outwardly, Cammela is a woman of few words, preferring rather to convey messages through body language and her very loud eyes. She'll usually only speak when spoken to first, and even then says as little as possible. It's not that she's shy or quiet, but rather because she feels that her body communicates better than her mouth does.

Cammela is an easily irritated person, and enough of your irritating mannerisms will cause you a wound, usually from a well aimed dagger. Of her pet peeves, here are a few of the many: gum smacking, foot/finger[nail] tapping, humming/whistling, out of tune singing, the shoveling down of food, smacking, open-mouth chewing, dripping pipes, and talking too much/rambling. If you are irritating Cammela, you will receive a scathing look that burns your soul and immediately lets you know to stop. That is your first warning. Your second is when she either reaches down for her concealed dagger, or strikes you on the face. If you are one of the few people she considers her friends, she might verbally warn you, or even ask semi-politely for you to stop. Don't count on it though.

Likes: Lips; Protection; Sex; Men of the Sweet, Sensitive, Caring Manner; Her job; The Italian Mob; Queens; Being in Shape; Sweets; Hard Liquor; Kittens; Dancing; Being Alone; Dark, Enclosed Spaces; Fighting; Romantic, Candlelit Dinners; Being Feared;

Dislikes: Speaking First; Vulnerability; Just wanting to be 'Friends'; The Irish Mob; Gangs; Long Island; Eating Too Much; Fruity Little Drinks; Casual/Paid Sex; Booty Calls; Dogs; Women in General; People who talk to much; Fakes; Jerks; Curiosity; Shiny Objects; Loud Colors; Too Much Make-Up; False Innocence; Being Lied To; Lying without EyeWear; Fearing People; Cops; BrownNosers;

History: Before The Virus Cammie had a good life. She lived a sheltered, pampered life in Manhattan with her father, Michael, and her step-mother, Elizabeth. She visited her mother every other weekend and was a relatively happy child. Her father had a very high-paying job in computers and could afford to have Cammela privately tutored at home. Back in those days she was a quiet child, content to stay quiet during her kickbozing lessons, rather than speak to the other students taking the class with her. She did not dislike Elizabeth, and had a good relationship with her mother. Then the Virus happened. Needless to say, Michael lost his job and he and Elizabeth were forced to find other modes of work. Their wealth steadily decreased as burglary became popular in their neighborhood. Cammie's tutor skipped town to go be with her family, and during the day Cammie was left by her lonesome.

It was during this time that Cammie had her epitomy.

She was fourteen and had been left alone while her family scrounged for whatever work they could find when their house was broken in to. A Gang, looking for goods to sell for cash had dropped in to take a few things. Curious Cammie had been stupid and tried to reason with the ringleader of that afternoon. He merely pushed her out of his way, into a glass table, where several shards left long scars on her lower back. She cowered in that corner, away from the villains. Thankfully, they did nothing to ravage the body of the girl, merely left her to tell the tale of what happened to her parents.

Not that she told them, mind you.

Her parents returned to find their things stolen and their daughter gone. Cammie left her home, having decided that she would not stick around alone to watch idiots take seige of their home like knights to a foreign castle. So she left, intending to walk to Jersey to be with her mother but instead landing herself in Queens, where for years she stole what she needed to survive and fought rapists away with muscled limbs. It was during her nineteenth year that she met her employer, of whom she speaks about to no one, and found her job. Cammela know lives as something of a trained assasin, doing what she does for the sake of those who can't defend themselves.

In this time of the warring factions, she is unsure of who she supports, though the Government is out of the question. She suspects her employer of being a part of Violencia, and she has yet to discover enough about the two factions to make a decision.

RP Sample: This is an incredibly sucky sample from a Band RP featuring Pierre Bouvier[Pie] and David Desrosiers[Princess] of Simple Plan. Enjoy to the fullest, not that it's much. If no one's looked at this by tomorrow, i'll probably just type up something new.

[-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-][-]

Pie sat in the bedroom watching VH1 wearing nothing but his boxers. He was sexy like that(or at least thought he was). His short black hair had already been spiked for him by his loving and very attractive ex lover and current best friend, David, who was going through something of a dry spell at the moment. Well, so was Pierre. It worked for him, but not his Princess. The small one was strained, stressed, and worried Pierre to death. As he watched the one he cared so much for fix himself up, Pierre had the largest urge to just go hug him. Not madly make out with him like the Pierre of old, but hug him. Pierre wanted to be there for him, not as a lover, but as a loved one. David just wouldn't let anyone close again. It hurt Pie deeply, that all he could do was talk to him. Used to, David and Pierre hugged even if they weren't dating. Now David wouldn't let Pie even hold his hand. Pierre was jolted out of his thoughts when the cell was lugged at him, landing on his fleshy stomach. He watched David as instructions were given, then promptly answered the phone as David walked out of the room. "Look man, stop bugging him, alright? He's sick of you!" And with that, Pie closed the phone on an angry Frankie. That guy was a jerk. Let him simmer in his own juices for a bit. Soon after however, Zacky came on the other line. Pierre gave him the same message, then slammed the phone closed and set the phone at his side. He then arced his chubby legs over the bed and walked into the bathroom, opening the door and leaning on it's frame. "David, babe, get out of the bathtub." He said it firmly, though not unkindly. David couldn't handle roughness right now, not that Pierre was ever rough with him. "Come on now, you'll get your clothes wet."


And when I say hooray, what do you say?: beer!