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Dec. 5th, 2012 02:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aintdancing[Player information]
Player Name: ChaseKat
Age: 22
E-mail: visions.in.my.head@gmail.com
Other characters played at Cape Kore: Kid Blue
[Character information]
Name: Forrest Bondurant
Canon: Lawless
Canon Point: Just before Rakes shoots him during the firefight.
Age: mid to late 30s, probably 35 or 36.
Appearance: Cardigans. No, seriously. Cardigans.
Inventory: -1 half finished cigar
-1 pair of brass knuckles with sharpened tips on the knuckles.
-1 Colt Detective Special 1st Gen - .38 Special
Note: His cardigan will contain 1 cartridge worth of .38 ammunition.
Abilities: Although Forrest will be the first to tell you the Bondurants are immortal, they're actually not. Although he's survived death a few times, it's mostly been luck and sheer willpower. He is an average male of his age, and as such is in the same health as an average male in the 1930s is.
He DOES, however, posses the knowledge to distill and make alcohol from almost anything almost anywhere.
History: Link!
Personality: At first glance, Forrest Bondurant is unassuming. He's a large man, yes, but he's quiet and tends to only mumble answers--when he actually has an answer--most of the time it's just a calm patience. He's incredibly polite as well--and it's this kind of behaviour he values. He's a 1930s country boy, a gentlemen, one that will always remove his hat in a lady's presence while having a conversation with them, or actually stringing together enough words to make a well-formed sentence when having a conversation with them. He's by no means a God-fearing man but he believes in traditional values, despite his odd calm when it comes to doing what he has to do.
He's incredibly rule-oriented as well. As far as Forrest is concerned, the only reason he's the head of the family is because Howard's a drunk. It should be the oldest but it's not, and to deal with that and Jack that he's become a leader. He's not a reluctant leader, either--he takes the role seriously and feels he has the responsibility to deal with the family's side business.
In conjunction with how he's become a leader for his family, he's surprisingly, despite his stocky appearance and way with violence, feminine. Perhaps not with the swish of the hips but he's quite in-tune with his family and what they need. As such, he's become not only the leader figure and the mother hen. However, it's less of a hen and more of a mother grizzly bear.
He will protect Jack and Howard--though it's mostly Jack--if they get too far over their heads or once his business or family values gets compromised. A quick punch to the throat of a man who tried to knife Jack early in the movie is the perfect set up for how he views himself and his brothers. That being said, he's also a firm believer in the fact that once you've made your bed, you lie on it. That's exactly why he lets his 'bear cubs' walk and expects them to fix their own problems. Unfortunately, this almost always happens to the adventurous Jack, and there's been many a time where Forrest has made a comment about how Jack should just keep sweeping floors and not overthink things.
'Simple' is most likely the word to describe Forrest's way of thinking. He doesn't like overcomplicated things, though he can certainly be calculating if need be. He plans ahead but once it's done it's set in stone. It worked for the rest of the Bondurants, it will work just fine for him and his family. The way Forrest sees it, if it ain't broke don't fix it, and if you become too overzealous you're only setting yourself up for failure. He's quite practical, if a little rigid, but incredibly traditional.
There's another side to Forrest. A dangerous side that everyone knows about but few have seen. Yes, he's determined and will protect his family, but sometimes he's got an animalistic way of viewing it. He's tenacious, and isn't afraid to do harm to prove a point. In that aspect he's very easily likened to an attack dog--kind to it's master, but to those unfriendly, he'll spring. He'll do it with such a calm facade it's almost worrying, but at his heart it's because he believes the Bondurants' deserve one thing and one thing only: survival. At the very end of the day, that's what it's all about--living. Carving out an existence for you and the family you protect.
[Samples]
First Person: [ Good morning, citizens of this ghost town. The visual is met with a light rocking and it's hard to tell what's going on. There's a hat in view, rocking back and forth, and the squeaking of a chair.
Ah--there it is. Forrest has adjusted his communicator to actually face him. Sure enough, he's smoking a cigar, and after a few puffs he takes it out of his mouth. Blows smoke, and considers his words carefully. ]
Evenin'.
[ for a moment that seems like that's all he's going to say, the slow drawl of a Country accent, Virginia to be specific. But he actually says something again: ]
Lookin' for Bondurants. [ And he nods, grunting slightly, signifying he's done. ]
Third Person: Forrest Bondurant is not a man of many words. Never has been, never will. There's no need when Howard drunkenly rants and Jack spouts idealistic nonsense while filling the salt shakers back up.
It's days like this he appreciates--sitting on his porch, smoking. Watching the birds in the sky, staring out in the distance. Somewhere, just off the horizon he spots a billow of smoke and figures the Moseley crew was staring their usual distillation process. For a dry spell across the nation, this sure was the wettest county in the south. Best damn county, too, if you asked him. Not that he'd specifically tell you so--he'd nod, maybe. Grunt if you were lucky. No need to talk if you could communicate another way. Talking was what the others did.
A mason jar full of clear liquid presents itself, and Forrest takes it from Maggie. The smell of her cigarette mixes with his own cigar and he looks up, lips parted, making an offhanded grunt. It wasn't the smell, or even the look in her eyes--but their hands had touched and Forrest, the man with brass knuckles in his pockets, the man with the glare and the soft-spoken words that sent chills through most of the people in the county, was at a loss for words.
He noticed Maggie lifting he brow, questioning, and Forrest merely diverted his eyes, grinding his teeth.
"Thank you, ma'am."
Anything Else? CARIDGANS
Player Name: ChaseKat
Age: 22
E-mail: visions.in.my.head@gmail.com
Other characters played at Cape Kore: Kid Blue
[Character information]
Name: Forrest Bondurant
Canon: Lawless
Canon Point: Just before Rakes shoots him during the firefight.
Age: mid to late 30s, probably 35 or 36.
Appearance: Cardigans. No, seriously. Cardigans.
Inventory: -1 half finished cigar
-1 pair of brass knuckles with sharpened tips on the knuckles.
-1 Colt Detective Special 1st Gen - .38 Special
Note: His cardigan will contain 1 cartridge worth of .38 ammunition.
Abilities: Although Forrest will be the first to tell you the Bondurants are immortal, they're actually not. Although he's survived death a few times, it's mostly been luck and sheer willpower. He is an average male of his age, and as such is in the same health as an average male in the 1930s is.
He DOES, however, posses the knowledge to distill and make alcohol from almost anything almost anywhere.
History: Link!
Personality: At first glance, Forrest Bondurant is unassuming. He's a large man, yes, but he's quiet and tends to only mumble answers--when he actually has an answer--most of the time it's just a calm patience. He's incredibly polite as well--and it's this kind of behaviour he values. He's a 1930s country boy, a gentlemen, one that will always remove his hat in a lady's presence while having a conversation with them, or actually stringing together enough words to make a well-formed sentence when having a conversation with them. He's by no means a God-fearing man but he believes in traditional values, despite his odd calm when it comes to doing what he has to do.
He's incredibly rule-oriented as well. As far as Forrest is concerned, the only reason he's the head of the family is because Howard's a drunk. It should be the oldest but it's not, and to deal with that and Jack that he's become a leader. He's not a reluctant leader, either--he takes the role seriously and feels he has the responsibility to deal with the family's side business.
In conjunction with how he's become a leader for his family, he's surprisingly, despite his stocky appearance and way with violence, feminine. Perhaps not with the swish of the hips but he's quite in-tune with his family and what they need. As such, he's become not only the leader figure and the mother hen. However, it's less of a hen and more of a mother grizzly bear.
He will protect Jack and Howard--though it's mostly Jack--if they get too far over their heads or once his business or family values gets compromised. A quick punch to the throat of a man who tried to knife Jack early in the movie is the perfect set up for how he views himself and his brothers. That being said, he's also a firm believer in the fact that once you've made your bed, you lie on it. That's exactly why he lets his 'bear cubs' walk and expects them to fix their own problems. Unfortunately, this almost always happens to the adventurous Jack, and there's been many a time where Forrest has made a comment about how Jack should just keep sweeping floors and not overthink things.
'Simple' is most likely the word to describe Forrest's way of thinking. He doesn't like overcomplicated things, though he can certainly be calculating if need be. He plans ahead but once it's done it's set in stone. It worked for the rest of the Bondurants, it will work just fine for him and his family. The way Forrest sees it, if it ain't broke don't fix it, and if you become too overzealous you're only setting yourself up for failure. He's quite practical, if a little rigid, but incredibly traditional.
There's another side to Forrest. A dangerous side that everyone knows about but few have seen. Yes, he's determined and will protect his family, but sometimes he's got an animalistic way of viewing it. He's tenacious, and isn't afraid to do harm to prove a point. In that aspect he's very easily likened to an attack dog--kind to it's master, but to those unfriendly, he'll spring. He'll do it with such a calm facade it's almost worrying, but at his heart it's because he believes the Bondurants' deserve one thing and one thing only: survival. At the very end of the day, that's what it's all about--living. Carving out an existence for you and the family you protect.
[Samples]
First Person: [ Good morning, citizens of this ghost town. The visual is met with a light rocking and it's hard to tell what's going on. There's a hat in view, rocking back and forth, and the squeaking of a chair.
Ah--there it is. Forrest has adjusted his communicator to actually face him. Sure enough, he's smoking a cigar, and after a few puffs he takes it out of his mouth. Blows smoke, and considers his words carefully. ]
Evenin'.
[ for a moment that seems like that's all he's going to say, the slow drawl of a Country accent, Virginia to be specific. But he actually says something again: ]
Lookin' for Bondurants. [ And he nods, grunting slightly, signifying he's done. ]
Third Person: Forrest Bondurant is not a man of many words. Never has been, never will. There's no need when Howard drunkenly rants and Jack spouts idealistic nonsense while filling the salt shakers back up.
It's days like this he appreciates--sitting on his porch, smoking. Watching the birds in the sky, staring out in the distance. Somewhere, just off the horizon he spots a billow of smoke and figures the Moseley crew was staring their usual distillation process. For a dry spell across the nation, this sure was the wettest county in the south. Best damn county, too, if you asked him. Not that he'd specifically tell you so--he'd nod, maybe. Grunt if you were lucky. No need to talk if you could communicate another way. Talking was what the others did.
A mason jar full of clear liquid presents itself, and Forrest takes it from Maggie. The smell of her cigarette mixes with his own cigar and he looks up, lips parted, making an offhanded grunt. It wasn't the smell, or even the look in her eyes--but their hands had touched and Forrest, the man with brass knuckles in his pockets, the man with the glare and the soft-spoken words that sent chills through most of the people in the county, was at a loss for words.
He noticed Maggie lifting he brow, questioning, and Forrest merely diverted his eyes, grinding his teeth.
"Thank you, ma'am."
Anything Else? CARIDGANS
