Name: Rogan Ea Graves (formerly known as Moses)
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Place of Birth: Bangkok –home birthed
Species: Mortal
Appearance:
Snake. You would think, judging by his domino-black hair and olive eyes.
But what does he resemble, really?
His face is too angular and thin for the Asiatic look, yet too oriental to pass him off as a European. Both blends of characteristic looks co-dominate his features, making it the most curious part of his body. However, don’t be pulled into thinking of a metrosexual face- no, he is pure male in cut. Irregular spikes line the ridges of his jaw and under the nose, complementing the smart, low maintenance style of his hair.
Surely not a puritan! You could smell dirty money off him- it keeps the lights in his house running, and buys him new closets every half-year. He dresses with a metropolitan taste, but most days Rogan dons street-wear in preference to comfort than appearance.
Androgynous figure? That’s another unusual form for a chap like he. He wasn’t suffocating in muscles, or piteously lacking in them; rather, he wore a slender frame that stayed taut with regular brawls. It looked right on him, yes.
What he was exactly, it is up to you to decide.
History:
My name is Moses.
He was truly a child of the world, having been born in Bangkok of a mixed mother and an English father and then moved to Hong Kong by his parents when he was ten. He went to high school in New York and eventually graduated from NYU(whilst abroad) with a degree in film.
So, he had education, he had skills, although there was never much green in his wallets- maybe enough to keep the landlords buttoned-up, but who would want to live a life like that?
Moses liked to live dangerously. A promising career in the pictures would gel anyone on the track, but he found it colorless, unsatisfying. During his internship with a major studio in Hong Kong, he had picked up stunt driving and joined a gang of loan sharks to keep his blood pumping hot.
At twenty-two, he left his job to work fulltime for a triad. Yea, he saw the flow of cash, women and drink, and graciously went to receive them with open arms. As an educated man, he was tied in business and money laundering for the best part of four years, sliding up the pyramidal hierarchy like the snake that he was.
He was careful- most accumulated wealth went into different bank accounts, making his financial assets anonymous and virtually untraceable. It was like saving pennies for rainy days.
Then when operations took a nosedive when the local badges busted the triad, he fabricated his death and took immediate flight to America under a new identity;
Hello, again.
My name is Rogan Ea Graves. Hmm? Moses?
Now, who the hell is that?
There, he began living afresh, drifting from state to state as a chauffeur to those of deep pockets. Luxury taxiing, he had said. Not those loud-mouthed-city-cab-crap. Just damned-good driving.
By then, the underworld had forgotten about the slick talker, and if ever came across him- saw a man, and nothing more.
At present, Rogan aims to empty his banks for something he’d like in Demaitre. Maybe chase a few skirts, or buy that motorbike he’d always wanted. He doesn’t know what he wants. But he’ll decide on something here.
OOC: Well.. I kept the history brief. Is it enough for ya? ;P
Approved!
Welcome to Vital. :3
