MUSTAFA, beowulf kassem

[Beowulf Mustafa]

Gif from iantoismyhero @ Tumblr.

I go by NINJA, and my time zone is EASTERN STANDARD. I found this site by LURKING. You can contact me PERSONAL MESSAGE.

`time to figure, time to sin
your time is done when you begin*

NAME:

Beowulf Kassem Mustafa.

AGE:

Thirty-six, and it shows.

GENDER:

Male.

SEXUALITY:

Asexual/Straight.

SPECIES:

(Wolf) Demon.

NATIONALITY:

Full-blooded Lebanese.

OCCUPATION:

Assassin & Translator (Arabic to English).

`live for suffer, live for revenge
know your life comes to an end*

APPEARANCE:

The first thing one would know about Beowulf or “Kassem” as he likes to be called, is his eyes. Yes, a little cliché, but his eyes are… Insanely bright blue. Depending on lighting, the blue in his eyes can be enhanced or dimmed down to a ‘gray-blue’ of softness and tranquility. His skin tone is a normal human peach color, though quite a few patches of his form have a ‘tanned’ physique. On his façade, he always seems to have some scruff. Not always is his façade full of peach fuzz, occasionally the man does shave, but he seems to look better with the scruff, and not like he cares for the razor blade. His hair is a mocha brown, cut short; close to the term ‘buzz cut’ but no cigar. He has no piercing, but the man has one tattoo on the back of his lower neck or well, between his shoulder blades. It’s a symbol in Arabic that means something to him. What it means, he’ll never say. What he wears depends on how he feels. Usually he feels relaxed and placid, so he usually wears a shirt with baggy blue jeans, occasionally the ones with rips and tears in it. On the job, his attire changes and differs to his surrounding atmosphere.

CELEB CLAIM:

Andy Whitfield.

`taste the blood, taste your fate
swallow your pride with your hate*

PERSONALITY:

This man comes off as one that seems to mind his own business. He isn’t one to talk a lot so he is a man of the phrase “to the point” and doesn’t dawdle on facts. He says what he has to in order to get the point across. If words don’t need to be said then the man is quiet. On rare occasions he’s a talkative man, but that’s just the point; that’s rare indeed. Beowulf is of little or of no remorse for his actions. If he did something it must’ve been right to begin with. This involves his killings. He shows no remorse for the dead whatsoever. Despite his somewhat cold nature, the man does ease up and is quite the “teddy bear” type if you get the drift. He’s hard on the eyes a bit,. But has a soft side. One can say he’s a so-so nice guy with a streak of “not caring”. he’s demanding and orderly here and there and is very, very protective. One can say he is “territorial” with people that are in his ‘inner circle’ of friendship or trust. Speaking of trust, having him trust anyone is a difficult task in itself. You have a better chance in wining the lotto than gaining his ‘full’ trust. Beowulf is as well a stubborn creature. He doesn’t give up easy. That being said, he’s very goal-orientated and doesn’t take no or failure easily as others would. In summary, Beowulf is a distant man that only needs to speak what needs to be said, and tends to mind his business and come off as slightly cold.

LIKES:

Peace of mind, winning, not being defeated, free food, free anything, a warm bed, the sunlight, the noises of the countryside, wolves, canines in general, people with extraordinary abilities, religion, habits and rituals, organization, tea.

DISLIKES:

His alarm blaring, being caught, being interrogated, anything that delivers him pain, failing, nothing on the television, being looked down at, missing his meal, junk food, people that ‘don’t believe’, people that abuse their power, cats.

SECRETS:

What he is has to be the biggest secret of all, right next to his true occupation of being an assassin.

FEARS:

Losing his son to death, being caught and sentenced to whatever they deem necessary, the moonlight.

DREAMS:

Finally settling down. Maybe passing his legacy to his son and have him take over? Maybe have a happy family… Or maybe just to die in honor doing what he does best?

STRENGTHS:

Strength itself. When he isn’t in ‘mean’ mode, he’s quite the fatherly bug. Tactics. Foresight. Weaponry. Learns quickly. Adaptable.

WEAKNESSES:

His son. Pride. The moonlight. Love. ‘Juicy’ foods. Doesn’t give up easily.

`your last breath, your last stance
the last of all in your command*

HISTORY:

I was born in America. In the south. To be more specific, I was born in Orange County, California. Yes, right by the water. The waves were always in my ears whenever I went to bed. The sand and the ocean were always in my life when I was young. Though when I was just two years old, I was taken to Lebanon overseas. My father wanted my mother to live with him and his family over there and really, she couldn’t say no, so she went. Even if she did say no, he would have found a way to make her come - a way, being stealing me. Nonetheless, she didn’t go through all the trouble and just went over and lived there for a while. As a male, I was given everything. My father was a respectable man and always followed the teachings of the Qu’ran. He gave me everything I needed, but not desired. I got the best education, the best clothes, the best food… And everything else, he said I had to ‘earn’ it. And so I did. As a little child, I wanted a lot of toys and so, I used all my free time to work hard and get what I wanted.

When I was about four (and yes, I worked around the house for my toys, doing everything since I was too young to work outside) years old, a strange man came through the door. One that my father Mohammed didn’t introduce to the family. After a short argument between the two men, my mother grabbed me and exited the back door with me. She carried me and ran in the streets to outside of Lebanon. Meeting with a friend, he drove her outside and towards Egypt, stopping at a small city called Gaza where she… Left me. She told me “You are my lunar flower” and kissed me on the forehead before leaving me and driving off. I was… Confused. Even more so when a woman in black clothing with a small golden cross necklace took me in. This place was my sanctuary, it was my new home.

I was raised in a religious way for a few years until I turned… Into a wolf-like creature in the moonlight. The women that took care of me freaked out and basically tossed me out. They apparently didn’t care that I was just a small child. It was there that these wild jackals took me in. I was an orphan and I lived in the desert for the longest time. I was small and these wild creatures seemed to understood that and so, brought me food and took me to places that held water. Oddly… I understood them when they yipped and barked. I couldn’t understand why but then I recalled my accident with the nuns… I was a monster, I was an animal just like them.

For years I lived with them in the desert in the rocky cave dwellings that they called home. I occasionally went to the city and managed to steal some clothes when I needed them but food and water were always given so I never stole that… Until one day. In the marketplace, I stole a loaf of bread and ran. The man spotted me and ran after me. When he grabbed me, I flailed and bit. I fought back. It was there that an American, a man in the crowd saw this and just before I could be ‘punished’ for my actions, the man intervened and said that I was his son, paid for the loaf of bread with interest, apologized to the man, grabbed my hand then walked off with me. The man was of American blood here on ‘business’, but spoke in my tongue and told me.

Conjuring up some paperwork, I don’t know how he did it, he made it official that I was his child and soon took me to America with him. Little did I know that my mother that day when she dropped me off, escaped back to America and claimed her right as a free woman. Why she’d leave my father I would never know… In America, the man told me if I knew what I was. I said “I do”. The man smiled and said that his name was Thomas, and that he was like me. I was only a little child at the time, probably seven or so, but I believed him. Even more so when he and his two daughters changed with me in the moonlight. We were… Like kin. He wasn’t lying.

It was until I was around… Fourteen was when I found out who he really was. He was a man of the skull. A man of death. He killed people for money and for protection. I stumbled upon some documents and questioned him. Thomas just came out with everything, he told me the truth. At first I didn’t like it but then when I asked, he took me into the business with open arms. It wasn’t like I wasn’t good at it. In fact, I excelled in it. As I attended high school to learn the ‘basics’, I also learned the skills of the hunt with my ‘father’ Thomas and his comrades. I was an intelligent man in many ways. When I was sixteen… Let’s say I met a special someone. She was my friend, my best friend, and something more. It wasn’t until nine months later in high school that a small baby was in my arms. I had a son.

My father wasn’t exactly happy but didn’t get mad at the new life. Fatima and I… We started to drift off more and more when we got out of high school. I informed her that I had a job at the metal mill but in reality I was finally ‘hunting’ with my father. It was until I was about twenty-two when Fatima and I finally broke apart for real. It was then that I rarely saw my son anymore. She took him from me and hide him for the longest time. The next year, however, I met someone special… I met my real mother. I was coming back form a solo hunt when I bumped into her. Those deep blue eyes looked into mine and I felt this connection with her. She called my name and I nodded. We shared the longest and tightest embrace I ever… Experienced.

I couldn’t lie to her. I told her what I was. I was a demon, a monster of the moon and she informed me that she knew, she was one too. She also said that she was sorry for abandoning me. She thought I’d be better there because my father was a killer. I was confused and she told me what happened. My father was an assassin as well and she wished I never do anything like that, but it was too late, I already did. I took care of my mother from that day on. I made her move to Essex, New Jersey with me and kept her close to my heart as well as within eye distance.

When I was thirty was when the trouble started. My sisters didn’t know of my fathers job and he messed up one day and they traced him back to his home. Sonya I don’t know what happened to her, but Charisma managed to survive. Thomas and I traced them back to their location and killed their master as well as their ‘servant’ assassins that guarded them. One year later, thirty-one now, I met my son in a mall. He was hanging with some friends and soon left them when he noticed me. He couldn’t explain why, but he confronted me and said I looked familiar. We both had this odd feeling and that was the demon genes flowing through our veins acting up to kin. I told him I was his father and at first he didn’t believe me until he went home and asked his mother. Whatever she said, Dastan didn’t believe and soon ran away. I managed to find him with a bruise on his façade outside walking aimlessly.

I took him in and claimed him as my son. Fatima found our and tired to use the law against me. Somehow, someway, I won the custody case and she just disappeared off of the place of the earth the next day. I don’t know what happened to her, but I’m just glad she is gone… I cannot stand a liar and someone that lays a hand on my son. Dastan was raised without knowing and will never find out about my true job. It wasn’t until that same year that I managed to get a job as a translator for an agency much like the CIA, but different. I translated Arabic script into English with ease. I got paid handsomely and it wasn’t a full-time job. So Dastan never questioned where my money came from. When he was twenty, and I thirty-six, he moved out and did his own thing, but stayed in contact with me. That is all I need as a father…

FAMILY LIFE:

Linda; mother, location ‘safe’.
Mohammed; father, he presumes he’s dead.
Thomas; (adoptive) father, alive.
Sonya; (adoptive) sister, presumed dead.
Charisma; (adoptive) sister; alive.
Fatima; ex-girlfriend (or whatever she was); dead or alive, he doesn’t know nor cares.
Dastan ; son, twenty, alive and doing whatever.

OTHER:

Any other information you want to note down, feel free.

This template was made by Ninja Pie for This Is My Hell and will not be redistributed without permission. The lyrics are from Taste The Blood by Tetsuya Shibata. Please to not redistribute without permission or claim as your own.