Out of Character Information
Name: Kristi
Are you over the age of eighteen? y
Current characters in Baedal: Severus Snape, Ben Cosgrave, Antonin Dolohov

In Character Information
Basics
Character Name: Hilmi Moran
Username: wearethewilds
Fandom: Original Character
Played By: Tarkan
Icon:


4. Original Character Section (disregard if applying for a fandom character)

Physical Description: Hilmi is about 5'9”, with short black hair and green eyes. His ethnicity is Turkish (maternal) and Irish (paternal), and his race is aos sí (colloquially, 'the Sidhe' or People of the Mounds). Hilmi is a breed of the Sidhe known as a Gean Cánach (gancanagh), or Love-Talker.

(I promise, it's not as confusing or convoluted as it seems. It's just a really fancy series of terms for an Irish male fairy who seduces women.)

He is generally thin and quite fit, given to dressing in jeans and button-down shirts. He has no scars, tattoos, or piercings.

Sexuality: Let's go with straight, to be elaborated upon in the personality section.

World Information:

Well, I can provide a summary of the information Kay sent me as it applies to Hilmi:

A government-contracted entity known as Prometheus (or Numen), affiliated with an antimatter / evil-archtype being who had taken on human form and the name 'Lucas', began rounding up all those who displayed supernatural abilities or heritage.

In 2011, a series of geometric storms caused mass destruction and hellfire, inciting what was an end of times scenario. A small percentage of the population found their latent supernatural heritage pulled to the forefront (mixed-blood fae becoming full-blooded, etc), another found themselves endowed with, for lack of a better term, superpowers, and 20% turned into psychotic cannibals.

Manhattan is now the center of all things evil, the city is surrounded by enormous beasties which snack on people like Hilmi, Sonja Garin leads geurilla-type warfare against Lucas et al, Lucas wants to destroy all of creation, and Hilmi is just this guy, you know?

History:

Dara Moran, Irish-born and London-raised, met Yasmin Demir at Oxford and was immediately taken with her, and she with him. It was the sort of romance one reads about in trashy paperbacks from the supermarket, if said trashy paperbacks are set in a university town and allude to a good deal of time spent in libraries. They were married after only six months; a year later, in December of 1987, Hilmi was born. A year after that, Dara abandoned Yasmin, though there was no official divorce or annulment.

Not long after, Yasmin relocated to New York with Hilmi. Though she moved in with her sister, Melisa, and relied in no small part on both family inheritance and a fair income of her own, Yasmin received substantial financial support from Dara - enough to allow her to provide a good education for her son. Hilmi met his father only once after that; he was seven, and Dara visited New York for a week. Hilmi spent much of the time hanging on his father's every word, loving his accent, clinging to the man. Dara tolerated him, and for a few days, it seemed to Hilmi's young mind that his father might stay and they would be a family. Then, of course, Hilmi walked in on Dara and Melisa in the throes of passion. He never told his mother, not for his father's sake but for her own peace of mind, and Dara left the next day. Melisa spoiled him from that day forward out of a need to assuage her guilt and to keep him quiet about the affair.

Hilmi attended a private school and was encouraged and expected to maintain his grades in spite of his rather questionable home life. Proving himself academically intelligent, his marks and social status were enough to ensure a full scholarship to a state university for his undergraduate studies, as well as acceptance to an Ivy League university for his graduate and post-graduate education. He was, in his day, a member of the lacrosse team, part of the student council, an honors student, and an Eagle Scout.

And on the weekends from the age of sixteen onward, he snuck into nightclubs. He spent all night in them, giving his mother no small amount of heartache and grief when he came stumbling home at six in the morning, reeking of smoke and liquor. It wasn't until he was eighteen, however, that he discovered he could charm the pants off most of the girls he encountered; thus began a one-man campaign of infamy amongst the club-going set. He woke up in strange beds, with women of every shape and size. As he entered his twenties and moved out on his own, these encounters began to take on a disturbing turn. It started with Sarah.

Sarah was lovely, with the same dark hair and eyes as his mother (a disturbing parallel Hilmi didn't quite want to draw). He met her on a Saturday night; things went swimmingly, as usual. He whispered and flirted and bought round after round of drinks. He danced with her and believed he was falling for her. He looked at her like he was smitten with her. One thing led to another, and she ended up at his place - the first woman to do so. When he awoke the next morning, he thought Sarah would pack her things and leave as he had so often done. The problem was, she didn't leave. She stayed and cooked him breakfast, insisted on staying through to Monday, when obligations of work and school forced them to part ways. Hilmi was too baffled to throw her out.

He gave her a noncommittal answer when she asked when she would see him again; Sarah apparently took the hint - or so he thought. Tuesday morning, the calls began. It started with messages on his answering machine. First one, then four hours later, two more. Five more the next day. She began to show up at coffee shops he frequented, 'accidentally' running into him. The whole stalking episode escalated into a rather unnerving episode with much screaming and waving-about of a pair of scissors, and the need for a restraining order. Had this been the sole incident, Hilmi would have written it off as one crazy woman who didn't know how to deal with a one-night stand.

Except that it kept happening. Not with every woman, no - but a fair few of them. Hilmi stopped taking his 'dates' home to his apartment out of a sense of self-preservation. He wasn't sure what, exactly, he was doing to attract stalkers of both the male and female persuasion, but he learned to take preventative (albeit cowardly) measures - taking his one-night stands to hotels or their homes rather than his apartment, for example, and avoiding all contact afterward - and for a time, it seemed to stop. Unfortunately, his extracurricular lifestyle attracted the attention of Prometheus. Hilmi never made it to Princeton, Harvard, or Stanford. In 2008, he was abducted by Prometheus and held in their detainment facility, where he would remain for three years.

He was there when the geometric storms hit, and Hilmi was in the 3%. He became a full-blooded Sidhe, and for some months, his powers went completely out of control, manifesting in poltergeist-like activity. Hailstorms in the hall, gale-force winds, and over-amorous guards. It was Prometheus which first began developing countermeasures against the latter, though they didn't get far. It was found that St. John's Wort could dampen the effects of Hilmi's enchantments, and the rest was dealt with by installing cold iron plating in his cell.

In 2011, when Sonja Garin came along with her rebellion, Hilmi signed on without giving it a whole lot of thought. Being out of a prison was better than being in a prison. When the assault on New York began, he was a shoo-in to work as an assassin: he could distract both men and women with his abilities as a gancanagh, and for a long time people didn't cotton on to what he was doing. The enchantment was like a slow-acting poison. He could spend a night with a woman in New York and a week later, words like 'tragic suicide' or 'simply lost the will to live' would be kicked around. For faster results, one phonecall could lure a victim from the city and into the waiting arms of the enclave. If something a little less violent was needed - a diversion, for example - Hilmi could be the life of the party. Glamours made him unrecognizeable, and his talent for coaxing others to dance would keep their attention helpfully directed away from whatever the enclave might need.

In 2011, Hilmi was en route to New York when he was abducted once again - not to another detainment facility, but to Baedal.

Powers:

General Enchantments: One of the major attributes of the Sidhe is the ability to drive mortals mad with longing, whether it's for their food, music, or company. Stories again and again tell how humans who hear their music are haunted by it until they shun their own kind; when they eat the food of the Sidhe, all mortal food becomes tasteless and undesirable in comparison.

The remedy to this is always second exposure to the addictive substance (another song, a second taste of food).

Love-Talk (For lack of a better term): Hilmi just calls this "That thing I do." He is a subspecies of Sidhe called a gancanaugh – a love talker, a male fairy notorious for seducing human women. When he uses this ability, his lovers become addicted to him: women will pine away with want for him, and men (if properly affected) will spend all their fortunes buying gifts for their lovers.

Because he is a novice at this (and before the apocalypse didn't know his nature), he has on numerous occasions let this ability get out of hand. Unintentional use has caused people (male and female) to stalk him. He has, with help, developed a magical antidote which can be imbibed. An anti-Hilmi potion, so to speak.

Spellwork: The Sidhe have a range of magical abilities, from control of the weather to protective enchantments to curses. Hilmi does these things only accidentally. He hasn't had drive or encouragement to explore what he is able to do. He can charm others to dance with him for hours, losing all concept of time and place – an old trick of his kind.

Music: As noted above, the Sidhe rely on music to enchant mortals. Hilmi has a knack for playing musical instruments, but not to the extent that he can pick up any instrument and immediately know how to play it. Electric instruments, he has found, don't translate to Sidhe magic.

Weaknesses:

Cold Iron: It's commonly held that fairies can''t abide cold iron (that is, hand-forged). Hilmi believed himself to have a massive allergy to it, but it's also deeply psychological. He hates being around it, and can be cowed by it. He becomes physically ill when he's exposed to it for too long (imprisoned or bound), and will go into a sort of severe anaphylactic shock if wounded by it.

Symbols of Christianity: Because the Sidhe are pagan creatures of pre-Christian eras, the conversion of their lands into hallowed grounds has caused them to evolve to show an immense fear of Christian/religious symbols. Hilmi responds to crosses, holy water, prayer, and holy ground in much the same way a vampire does. It repels him, and he has deep-set loathing of it. He cries at baptisms.

Vampires: Apparently, Hilmi's blood is fois gras and caviar to vampires.

Ignorance: Like Ilde and Sonja, Hilmi barely knows what he is, much less how to control himself. He's winging it.

Name: Words are powerful things. Since the apocalypse, use of Hilmi's full name allows him to be summoned and forced to do the bidding of the person speaking it. He is hesitant to tell others so much as his given name, and never his middle or last.

Talents/Abilities:: Nothing remarkable.

Personality:

Before the apocalypse, Hilmi was quite the charmer. He has an extremely charismatic personailty, and has, in the past, been able draw others in like a magnet. He was friendly, cheerful, and utterly insufferable in that he was also a raging douchebag. His ability to charm people almost effortlessly gave him a sense of entitlement that was maddening; he was able to get what he wanted with just the right glance and a smile, but wasn't grateful for it. He believed the world simply handed him things because he was Hilmi Moran. He was, in short, one of those people.

This was likely due to his upbringing: with one parent out of the picture, he was encouraged to think of himself as the man of the house - and the wires got crossed in explaining just what that meant. Hilmi's mother doted on him and indulged his every whim. When he was eleven, she was still cutting his food for him; he was most assuredly a spoiled mama's boy. His close relationship with her as well as his ability to twist her (and her friends) around his little finger with one look from those pretty green eyes manifested in an extremely misogynistic personality. No one lives up to the standards set by his mother.

Because of his upbringing, Hilmi is particularly immature, with a side of only-child syndrome. He likes to get his way, and when he doesn't, he has monumental sulking sprees: not talking, pouting, flinging himself dramatically into chairs, sprawling on sofas, why me, my life is so hard, first world problems ahoy. The best way to bring him out of these is to distract him from the original problem. He's a simple creature, easily drawn out of his foul tempers.

He is and was extremely flirtatious, sexually-oriented, and promiscuous. Hilmi was the sort of person who engaged in one-night stands and then never called back. He is terrified of commitment, and has not had more than a handful of long-term relationships. He has the ability to maintain strong friendships; while he is one of those men with hundreds of Facebook friends he barely knows, he's also has a handful of people for whom he would do anything - and it doesn't take much to become one of these people. If you're male, that is. Pre-apocalypse, he shied away from close relationships with women; after, he began to learn that women could also fulfil that role and began to loosen his standards a bit.

After the apocalypse, with the institution of a matriarchal society in the form of the enclave, Hilmi was in for a bit of a rude awakening. It depresses him; the shoe is on the other foot now, and he doesn't know how to handle it. If asked, he couldn't put into words exactly what's wrong (without inciting outrage, that is: his explanation would be that he feels like he's being treated like a woman). In any case, it makes him extremely uncomfortable. He is still in the new stages of this, but he's intelligent enough to eventually figure out that no one likes to be degraded for their gender, and thus take a long, hard look at his past and present choices.

Morally, Hilmi is something of a mixed bag; towards people in general, he is a good man. Misogyny aside, he is a kind-hearted and loving person. However, he is morally ambiguous. If he wants to steal or lie, he can justify it - and once the enclave had their hooks in him, even murder became acceptable. He does have principles, however, though in this new world he is still finding his footing and choosing what he feels is right and wrong. That said, he is not religious: in fact, he is immensely put off by religion, and Christianity in particular. Religious symbols such as crosses repel him, prayer hurts his ears, and he feels ill on hallowed ground (as explained under his weaknesses).

For all his negative and questionable aspects, Hilmi is not violent. He will not hit women and refrains from emotional or mental abuse. He doesn't raise his voice (though he's quite creative with his profanity). All things being even, he is more likely to white knight for a girl than to be the one doing her harm. He dislikes the sight of blood and refuses to pull off his assassinations with guns or knives.

Romantically, Hilmi fulfills the Shallow Love Interest trope: "It doesn't matter what their life was like beforehand; their entire personality revolves around the sole fact that they dig said main character, and the main character digs them." It's how he gets away with his one-night stands. When he is with a woman, she becomes his sole focus - for eight hours, at any rate. He will treat her as though he's utterly enamored of her, has never met another woman like her, and hasn't lived until that moment - and even believes, to a certain extent, that he's in love. It's a feeling that's usually gone by morning; daylight comes and Hilmi beats a hasty retreat. This quality is a result of his nature: the gancanagh charms women, wins their love and desire (and usually a good romp) and then disappears.

Hilmi's sexuality is a confusing thing for him. Before he discovered what he was, he had some difficulty controlling his abilities, and thus occasionally attracted men. Given the society and mix of cultures in which he was raised, he is embarrassed by what he perceived to be his own genetics belying a staunchly straight sexuality; he suffers a good deal of internalized homophobia. He doesn't know how to deal with his attraction to other men and tries not to examine it too closely, and overcompensates to prove his masculinity is intact – unfortunately resulting in promiscuity, aggression at the suggestion that he's bisexual, and an instigation of his more sexist tendencies.

Speaking of Hilmi's abilities. Before the apocalypse, it was that old story: he knew he was different, but couldn't explain how. He was able to do certain things, and simply assumed it was his personality and charm. When the geometric storms enhanced his abilities, he found himself panicking. He thought something was wrong, and still is a little skittish about using his powers. He hasn't explored what he can do because it frightens him to be out of his comfort zone - and finding out he's one of the Sidhe definitely is not comfortable for him. However, as with his morality, he is able to pick and choose what abilities are comfortable for him to use. In particular, he has no trouble exploiting the gancanagh aspect, and, on a subconscious level, enjoys having at least that much control in a world where men are no longer sitting pretty.

On a less serious side, Hilmi is something of a free spirit - also a manifestation of his nature. He loves hiking and camping, being in forests in fields, and feels an inexplicable connection with the natural world. It's his softer side; when he's outdoors, the harsher edges of his personality are softened. It's obvious he has a passion for it. Oddly enough, he hates running water: streams, rivers, and oceans disturb him. He can't swim, and is terrified of anything larger than a shallow bathtub.

He loves to dance. Before the apocalypse, he could convince others to dance with him for hours - all night, if he felt inclined. He quickly found this was one of his abilities: causing a distraction by luring others into dancing with him, making time slip by unnoticed. It's a bit of a parlour trick right now, but as he ages and learns control, he'll be capable of casting the sort of enchantment his race is infamous for: whole years can slip away in what seems like an hour spent dancing amongst the Sidhe. It's a good weapon and diversion tactic, he has found.

His fae side has also given him a few odd tics: he likes in-between places and times. It's an odd habit, but he feels most whole at dawn and twilight, or sitting on fences, or standing at crossroads. May Day, Samhain, the solstices, and so forth have always held a charm for him. It's as though being in those places and times gives him a firmer footing in the world. Since the apocalypse and the full manifestation of his nature, this is true: the Sidhe could better cross over into the mortal world at such times and locations. He also likes to play pranks - not over-elaborate ventures with raising cars on rooftops, but small things. Putting knots in girls' hair as they sleep, startling domestic animals, switching sugar for salt, cheap glamours and silly enchantments. It's usually harmless.

Unlike the Sidhe of folklore, Hilmi isn't easily insulted. This isn't a personality trait, but rather a cultural one: they were a proud race, and Hilmi has not been exposed to that enough to know that it's how he should behave. He'll eventually grow into it, particularly if exposed to more of his own kind and given lessons in pride. He's still, in many respects, very much a child..

Object: ...I really want to just throw in something random here because I have NO IDEAS. MONEY? FAIRY DOG? No clue.

Reason for playing: Well, I'm bringing him in from a world of Kay's creating, so I suppose “shamelessly apping into a cast” is one way of putting it. I also want to explore how a guy like Hilmi (a promiscuous, machismo-type male) would react to being thrust into a matriarchal society, and how that and his newfound abilities would affect him. I think the arc of having him explore just what he can do would be immensely fun.

Gods: I'm going to go with “Shada”, for the fertility side of things – but hey, Eliandre might be interested, too.

Writing Samples
Players may choose to write three of the four writing samples. Additionally, for two of the three samples applicants may substitute links to previously written roleplaying threads of no less than eight substantial replies. We reserve the right to ask for an additional sample if more information is required.

First-Person Network Post:

This place is going down the shitter. I'm not sure what you think you're going to accomplish with green tile instead of iron.

What's with the phone? Is this some kind of experiment? I'm not going to contact them, if that's what you're waiting for. Believe me, they'll come after you without me using up my one phone call.

Hey, don't I get a lawyer? That's a joke. You get it? Unlawful imprisonment, one phone call, need a

Eh, forget it.

First-Person Journal Post: A few sentences written by the character, something they intend only for themselves to read. A look into how they think of themselves and how they are when no one is looking.

Third-Person Arrival Post:

Hilmi stumbled in the arrival room; it was a poor landing, if you can call it a landing. He was disoriented, blinking back his confusion and bringing a hand to his head as though he could rub some clarity into his thoughts. When he finally looked around, he didn't particularly like what he saw.

He had a thing about small rooms with locked doors - and understandably so. He gave the doorknob a tug, then took a few steps back to assess his situation. He licked his lips, sucking the lower in between his teeth and gnawing it before coming to a single conclusion. To his credit, he was very succinct when he announced it to the four walls:

"I'm so fucked."

Third-Person Action Post:

It wasn't so bad; he didn't like these seedy hotels, but this was safer than leading these girls to his apartment. At least this way, they didn't know where he lived. Being here in these places, though, made the whole act seem less fun, as though anonymity stripped away some of the enjoyment for him. It occurred to him more than once that he ought to think about settling down, but -

Seedy hotels weren't so bad.

With a final groan, he propped himself up above her (Terri, wasn't it? Sherri? Erin? Oh, to hell with it, it didn't matter) his breath coming in heavy pants. She was running her hands over his shoulders (he really wished she would stop, actually) and cooing something about...whatever. He pushed himself off of her and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Hilmi ran his fingers back through his hair, wiping sweat from his forehead, then pushed himself to his feet and disappeared into the bathroom to flush the remaining evidence of a night he already wanted to forget. When he returned, he started tugging on clothes. In one of his pockets, he found a package of cigarettes and procured one for himself, letting it hang unlit from his lips.

"You're leaving?" Karen, that was her name.

Casting a glance back at her, he made a noise of assent, then returned to buttoning his shirt. Already distancing himself from a potential problem. He didn't want this to turn out like the incident with the scissors. "Yeah. I have to get going. Shit to do. It was fun."

"Will I see you again?" Hopeful. A little too hopeful. Hilmi's guts twisted with revulsion and fear; it was a reaction he'd come to feel each time he heard that plaintive tone, real or imagined, in a woman's voice. The urge to flee the situation was almost overpowering. Later, when he was alone, he would wonder why he continued to engage in these stupid hook-ups when he knew how they would turn out. He would try and fail to analyse just what it was that motivated him not only to be promiscuous, but to select people who were obviously unstable. Obviously unable to distinguish between one night and a relationship. He would consider seeing a therapist about his questionable sex life.

Right now, however, he simply wanted her to leave him alone so he could make his escape. Roll over and go to sleep. The room was paid for.

He didn't look at her this time; instead, he sat on the bed to pull on his shoes, trying to ignore the way she was tracing a hand over his back. Pawing at him. He grit his teeth as she babbled on, then finally shrugged off her touch. She went quiet for a moment, then asked in that too-hopeful, almost-pleading tone that he had come to expect, "Call me?"

Dully, he replied, "Sure thing."

Misc
Other: If you have any questions or comments on your character or application, those can go here.