|Felix T. Sinclair|
|Full Name:||Felix T. Sinclair|
|Other Names:|| Lets-Them-Eat-Cake (Cliath)|
(Unless you check ID.
Then 24. Honest.)
|Birthdate:||April 7th, 1998|
|Sept Position:||...Master of Rites?!|
|Previous Packs:||Tactical Frivolity (Beta, Alpha)|
|Creation Date:||July 22nd, 2015 (Cliath)|
|First Change:||May 9th, 2014|
|Cliath Rank:||November 27th, 2014|
|Fostern Rank:||March 15th, 2016|
|Theme Song:||Bon Jovi - It's My Life|
|Quote:|| "If you feel dirty, insignificant, or unloved, then rats are a good role model. They exist without permission, they have no respect for the hierarchy of society, and they have sex 50 times a day."
|Photo Reference:||Seth Green|
|Logs:||Everyone Wants A Log: Felix|
A Little Info
Felix arrived in St. Claire along with Lilah, in July 2015 and a creatively-acquired mid-'70s Cadillac Eldorado convertible. They'd been driving around exploring the country for a couple weeks, and the Caddy finally gave up in protest and the middle of town.
He's previously from a sept in Memphis, has been staying at the Library since shortly after getting to town, and seems to have integrated pretty well with the Sept. He can often be found hanging out at said Library, poking around Edgewood or the caern, singing and playing guitar by the Harbor Park Fountain, sneaking in anywhere there's something resembling a party, generally trolling around town, or doing whatever else he's currently come up with as a good way to not be bored. Where 'good' translates as 'effective', not necessarily 'useful', 'wise', 'safe', or 'legal'.
He's trouble, but strangely likeable trouble; an attractive nuisance.
More or Less Current Events
- In late December 2015, Felix challenged Winter for the rank of Fostern. As Half-Moon Moots became a thing right about then, he did it again in front of various other people in January, and is currently in the process of working on his task: getting from each elder any information he or she wants to spread to the world, figuring out what caern Uncle Bob is currently at, and taking the news there for the next moot. Time will tell how it goes.
- ...it went! Despite trials and temptations, Felix returned from finding Uncle Bob at Dry Thunder in Arizona and going with him by moonbridge to The Painted Song in Texas (while slightly the worse for Awakened moonshine). Information was exchanged and he managed not to get himself kicked out or killed while representing the Sept, and Winter declared him to have passed as of March 2016's Half-Moon Moot, renaming him Chugs-the-Mystery-Brew. And there was much alcohol-enhanced rejoicing.
- With the departure of most of the pack to one place or another mid-Summer, Felix has ended up alpha of Tactical Frivolity -- which is to say, himself and Trace. Clearly, they're going to have to keep an eye out for potential recruits...
- After four months of the Sept having no Master of Rites and no one mentioning it, Felix decided something needed to be done about that. So (after a quick round of WWCD?), he went to the October New Moon Assembly... and claimed the post. Sandra took offense to his 'what the fuck' phrasing, but as he gave a decent accounting of what it was he was stepping into and no one stepped forward to immediately take the mantle instead (and with Jamethon's caveat that he learn the Caern Rites) Yael deemed it an acceptable claim. And with Mouse's blessing... well, apparently he's got the job.
- At the turn of the year, Trace decided LA needed him more than St. Claire did, and went back — temporarily, he said — to help them rebuild. A pack of one is no pack at all, and with no promising recruits around, Felix reluctantly had to say goodbye to OhNo! as well.
Compact is the word for him: wiry, maybe 5'6" in his beat-up black combat boots, with a sense of compressed energy and imminence like a coiled spring -- or a cocked gun. Never quite still for long, balance flowing through the balls of his feet. There's a striking intensity to his narrow blue-green eyes, the colour contrasting with his fair skin and spiky copper hair; just below the left is what at first appears to be a faint mole, but closer inspection reveals as a small, long-healed scar. His features are appealing, with high cheekbones and a good jawline, but it's the confident mien and roguish smile that most often seem to draw people in. He frequently wears old black jeans with a rip in one knee and the cuffs half walked off, with an old but well-fitting t-shirt under an open button-down of some description and an old biker jacket over top of that if it's cold, but his clothes vary a fair amount -- particularly for a shifter -- with the main reliable factors being that the things he wears tend to fit and look pretty good on him, and almost never look brand new. There's usually a couple leather-and-bead bracelets on one wrist and a length of ball-chain disappearing beneath his collar, and his nails are frequently painted black; unlike the hair, clothes, and general hygiene, he's not particularly attentive to the polish, and it's usually chipped.
When he's in homid or glabro and not wearing a shirt, his tattoos are visible. On his left arm, just below the shoulder, is a parachuting rat holding a crowbar and wearing a pair of glittery-gold star-shaped glasses; on the right side of his abdomen, about where the waistline of pants sort of act as the ground, are a pair of rats with a mortar aimed up toward the left. Both tattoos are all in black (aside from the glasses) and resemble spray-painted stencils. His back is covered by a phoenix rising from flames, smoke, and ash, in suitably fiery colours and a completely different style. A reasonably close-up look reveals quite a number of scars worked into the design of that one; there are a couple under the mortar-rats as well.
He looks like he's most likely in his late teens, and when he speaks it's in a mellifluous, southern-accented baritone voice. When he sings, too, although the accent is fainter. Anyone with a good ear for accents (or who asks) can work out where he's from.
In his wolfier forms, Felix is still small relative to most other Garou. Like many Gnawers, his lupus form can be mistaken for a dog... although the tendency is probably to think 'wolfdog'. The colouring and conformation are all wolf, but the slightly smaller size and something about the energy and bearing (along with the likelihood he's in the city at the time) can lead to the other conclusion.
|Contacts: 1, Rites: 3, Totem: 2|
|Contacts||A handful of fences (automotive and other), drug dealers, prostitutes, and other folks who spend a lot of time generally 'around' in the bad parts of town.|
|Rank 1||Apecraft's Blessings, City Running, Master of Fire, Mindspeak, Persuasion, Resist Pain, Resist Toxin, Scent of Sweet Honey|
|Rank 2||Distractions, Dreamspeak|
|Level 0||Artwork, Bone Rhythms, Gaian Boon, Hangover Cure, Tobacco's Calm|
|Level 1||Cardboard Palace, Cleansing, Contrition, Gathering for the Departed, Moot, Questing Fry, Talisman Dedication|
- Fightin': Historically speaking, Felix gets in fights. A lot of fights. It has been officially A Problem (according to people who aren't him) since he was about five, and they put him in martial arts (Muay Thai, specifically), with the idea of channeling it, for about a decade. He hasn't been in classes for a few years now, but still practices a lot (alone or not) to burn off energy and just for fun. Having been mostly on the streets for the last few years, he knows how to handle knives, and he can shoot okay... but mostly he hits things. Well, or claws them, nowadays.
- Performance: Appropriately enough for a Galliard, his main socially-acceptable skill; he originally intended to be a rock star and has enough talent he could have pulled it off... if it weren't for, y'know, that whole werewolf thing. Extremely good singer and guitarist, with a near-perfect memory for things heard, particularly if they have tune and/or rhythm (music, lyrics, poetry; somewhat less so for stories, further less so for average conversation). Good dancer, pretty good storyteller, decent actor... especially when there's incentive.
- Negotiation: The other at-least-mostly socially-acceptable talent. General knack for talking people into or out of things, bargaining, making a case, flirting...
- Larceny: 5+ years of experience breaking most property laws for fun and profit -- shoplifting, car theft, pickpocketing, short cons, burglary, plain ol' vandalism when seriously bored, whatever. Still the source of most of his income. ...okay, not so much the vandalism.
- Evasion: Partially as a result of developing the previous skill, pretty good at making a getaway when things go wrong. He's not going to get on any international parkour tours, but he's jumped an awful lot of fences, climbed a lot of fire escapes, buildings, statues, etc., found a lot of places to hide. Relatedly, lies like a rug.
- Survival: Urban decidedly more than rural; until he Changed he rarely saw more green than a city park.
- Partying: That counts as a skill, right?
Lack of Skills
- Do not ask him to cook.
- Or look things up.
- Or write things down.
- Or fix or build things.
- Especially electronic or mechanical things.
- Somewhat more spiritual than your average rock. (...but he may be improving.)
- Somewhat less academic than spiritual.
- There's a pretty fair chance he ditched that class. Whichever class.
- Rarely has a Plan B. May or may not remember to have a Plan A.
- Lead him not into temptation; he can find it himself.
|♫||💬||Aunt Mon||Dainty as fuck.|
|♫||💬||Lin||Next time. Now: pizza.|
|♫||💬||Benny||We got spirits, yes we do.|
|♫||💬||Briari||Oil an' water.|
|♫||💬||Dre||Makin' bad look good.|
|♫||💬||T||Have you accepted Elvis as your zombie lord an' saviour?|
|♫||💬||Watcher||My milkshake brings all the wolves to the yard...|
|Master of Rites|
Oct 2017 - Current