Post by Erik Gauthier on Jan 23, 2013 22:54:21 GMT -5
Erik Gauthier
"Angel of Music"
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Player Name: Noxx
Years Roleplaying: Uh... at least 18 years. I started early.
Gender: Male
Contact me: PM is fine. Skype is noxatrum. Steam account is the same. Gtalk is noxatrum.shadowfire. AIM is sixtysevenimpala [cookies to those who get this!].
How you found us?: I found you from RPG-D. I saw your ad bumped today.
Anything else?: This Erik has been played on several sites, so some of his bio may look at least somewhat familiar.
This place is awesome. I've always wanted to see what would happen with multiple versions of Phantom in one place! <3
~*~~*~~*~
Basic Information
Age: 50
Canon or OC?: Canon [Susan Kay's Phantom]
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Appearance
Body type: Extraordinarily tall and thin.
Eye color: Dual colored and shaped, it's difficult to describe them. His eyes glow like a cat's in the dark and are deep set in his features. They are green and gold
Wardrobe: Erik tends to favor dark colored suits from his era, though they are a bit older fashioned than they should be due to the fact that he was forced to steal many of them from the costume department or he had to have outside help to get them. He loves waistcoats, and even when his jacket is off he will often retain the waistcoat. He also has a fondness for red, blue, green, and black poet shirts and will wear them when alone. His masks tend to be white or black and cover all but his lower lip and chin.
General Appearance: Erik's whole appearance is a distinguishing feature in and of itself. He stands at well over 6 feet tall, towering over most others. He is rail thin, bordering on skeletal. He has, on occasion, been described as a living corpse, though he resents this. He has hands that are slightly larger than they should be, with long elegant fingers. His hair is not thick, but he's learned techniques to disguise this fact. It's a deep chestnut color, but has darkened somewhat due to the lack of sun he gets.
If one can get a look under the mask, his most unusual and distinctive feature can be seen. His face looks like a death's head - one that's been left to rot for several months. Though he has a full head of hair, what peers out from under it is monstrous. Parchment colored skin that is far too thin allows veins to be seen, his eyes are sunken in, and he sports a large hole where his nose should be. His lips are thin and almost non-existent as well, only adding the look of a bleached skull with only skin and hair clinging on to it.
Finally, his eyes are mismatched. One is a deep blue green, while the other is an astonishing gold. They both darken when he feels strong emotions. His voice is one that can freeze you in your tracks in it's beauty, though he rarely uses it these days. Finally, he moves like a large cat, making his every movement sensual.
Played By: Book Art from the January 1993 soft cover version.
Personality
He is secretive to the extreme. He refuses to give details about himself and can be downright unpleasant - bordering on violent - to those who pry. He has been known to actually lose his temper and harm [or even kill] someone if they don't get the picture the first time. There are rare exceptions to this, and even he can't tell you what makes them an exception.
He hurts, constantly, and is obsessive about things to the degree that he loses sleep over something that bothers him. He also loses sleep if he's got a composition or idea stuck in his head, and cannot rest until it's on paper or constructed - at least in mini form. He is protective of hurt things -whether they be human or animal, and has found himself acting uncharacteristic when faced with their pain.
He is extremely touchy when it comes to his face, and will kill anyone who even attempts to remove or even touch his mask. He is also afraid to open himself up again, since the last time he did he was hurt badly. He has, because of this, shut himself off, becoming cold and near to emotionless.
When allowed to be, he is extremely passionate, especially about music and theatre, though he is incredibly opinionated and does not tolerate disagreements. To oppose him, if one is lucky enough to even talk to him [rare!], is to court death if he's in the wrong mood.
Erik's intelligence lends itself well to his personality and he is well read and versed in practically any subject one could bring up. He has a fascination with medicine, and how the human body works. He has absolutely no qualms about dissecting a human if he found one he could study. He can be rather calloused and cold sometimes when it comes to the welfare of other human beings - especially as he does not consider himself to be human. He would gladly kill and provide his beloved pets [Ayesha at present] with human flesh if it meant keeping them alive.
Erik can be sadistic at times, and has a wicked sense of humor that many would find to be off-putting. He doesn't really give a damn about others opinions about his humor, or really himself in general, since he believes that the only thing that makes anyone interested in him is his voice and his face. The former because it's the only portion of himself he can stand, and the latter because of how many people have paid to see him when he was either on display or traveling of his own accord with the fairs. This sense of humor does not lend itself to his few friends, who would rather he just 'relax'. The stick in the mud attitude from his only friends seems only to encourage Erik to misbehave.
Erik knows exactly why he acts out around those who know him - he desires attention. Any and all attention. And though he doesn't really like the negative attention, in his mind it somehow seems better than being completely ignored. He's worked hard to overcome this, but hasn't quite succeeded. Especially where his friends' wallets and pocket watches are concerned.
The lonely soul that hides behind a mask isn't just physical. The mental issues brought up by being lonely leave him depressed and angry much of the time. He has severe depressions that spiral out of control sometimes, leaving him in a black pit that he sometimes does not think he can climb out of. The other extreme of this is a mania where he cannot sleep, eat, or be bothered with really anything but what he happens to be focused on at that moment. Usually this means music, and he'll compose until he can no longer function, at which time he passes out for sometimes days on end. These manias are not always bouts of activity either. On some occasions they manifest as a dark anger that seethes just under the surface, threatening to erupt at the slightest thing.
Erik's temper, even when not affected by the emotional roller coaster he is sometimes subjected to, is nothing to be trifled with. He has a short fuse, and has been known to go off on someone for the slightest of things. But to really anger him, and not just trigger a temper fit, is to court death. Crossing his orders, especially if he views them as important, is not a wise thing. He rarely gives orders to anyone, though when he does it's usually for their own good, or the good of the establishment he called home.
Erik has little to no self esteem and would rather break a mirror than look into it. He hates his face, he hates his body, and he hates himself. This self loathing has caused issues at times, and has left him in many of those depressions mentioned earlier. It also adds to the touchiness he feels for his face as he does not think anyone else could truly care about him, even when facing the facts. [his few friends]... He oft times believes the world would be a better place without him in it, but he has never been able to bring himself to actually do the dirty deed and be done with it. The only time he came close he was rudely interrupted by a gypsy girl and then terrorized by his owner at the freak show.
Erik is not able to really understand the difference between right and wrong, often times finding other people's ideas of justice to be ridiculous. There is no black and white for him, but rather shades of grey. He, therefore, does what he pleases, when he pleases, consequences be damned. This has been known to get him [and those who look after him] into trouble with the law and neighbors, as taking food, clothing, money, or whatever else Erik wants has become a habit.
Dreams and Goals: Erik just wants to be normal. That's his biggest dream, though he knows it's not one he'll ever achieve. After that, Erik has goals. He wants to compose a masterpiece that will earn him respect even with his face, and he wants to find someone who can accept him as he is.
Strengths: Erik is an incredibly skilled tactician. He has some medical training [self taught]. He is also a talented architect. But above all, he is a musician and composer. His voice has an almost hypnotic quality to it and is his prize 'possession'. It allows him to manipulate others and he is able to plant suggestions in the minds of weaker willed individuals. Stronger willed individuals can break from the hold of his voice, but it takes active awareness of what he is doing to break it. He is a genius, and his mind can grasp most anything thrown his way aside from human relations. He has an incredible amount of strength that has been attributed to some odd genetics that occasionally happen.
Weaknesses: This genius actually is a bit of a handicap, as he does not always see the small things for looking at the big picture. He also is quite socially handicapped when it comes to interacting with anyone else at all and is quite awkward at the best of times. He has a fear of people and crowds in particular that can cause major problems. He has massive mood swings that can land him in deep depressions or rages that can be used against him because he cannot reason through them. Erik has an addiction to morphine that he has not been able to address since finding himself in the Manor and he is struggling to get by without it - this leaves him incredibly open to manipulation and addictions should he find something to replace it.
Fears: Erik fears being trapped in small spaces. He cannot stand being touched, and will lash out. He is distrustful and terrified of having his mask taken and being put on display again. He also fears he will never find someone who he can relate to who will fully accept him, flaws and all.
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The Past
Giovanni - Father figure.
Nadir Khan [The Persian] - best and really only friend.
Christine Daae - he now has a love/hate reaction toward her and instantly locks emotions away.
Raoul de Chagny - while at one time it was intense loathing, he has since let go of this and feels that in different times and places the two might have reacted quite differently.
History: Erik was born sometime in 1831. He does not know when his birthday is exactly. He knows he was named after the priest who came shortly after his birth. He was a gifted child - a genius in everything he tried and he soon developed a love of architecture and music, among other things [such as science and medicine].
At the age of 9 he ran away from home due to the unkindness he faced there from both his mother and the fear of being locked away by his mother's doctor suitor. He also ran away because he was afraid that the mobs that occasionally came to harass them would kill her as they'd killed his dog in the attack just before he left. He was not free long, but was captured by a group of traveling gypsies. They allowed a non-gypsy freak show owner to travel with them as it brought them money as well. Erik was put on display.
He remained with the gypsies until he was roughly 12. When the man who 'owned' him tried to rape him, he took his first life and ran away again. He traveled for a year, performing on his own, eventually returning to Italy. This brought him to meet Giovanni in there, not too far from where he'd run away from the camp to begin with . Giovanni was astounded by the boy's knowledge and took him on as an apprentice. He lived with the man until he was about 15, when he was again forced to flee due to the man's daughter falling to her death after forcing him to take his mask off [with Giovanni supporting his daughter rather than Erik].
This left Erik bitter and jaded as the only father figure he knew had betrayed him. He traveled with the fair again for a time, learning various methods of killing, as well as picking up skills as a doctor and furthering his talents as a musician. He also honed his skills as a magician, using the tricks to enhance his show. It was here that he met Nadir, who had been sent to find him to 'entertain' the Shah and his mother. He was 19.
His time in Persia was not happy. While here he was forced to take the life of Nadir's son to prevent the boy's suffering at the hands of a fatal genetic disorder. He also became addicted to several drugs and spent most of his time bathed in others blood at the insistence of the Shah and his mother. After building a grand palace for the ruler, he was to be killed, but Nadir still felt they were friends [regardless of his feelings on Erik's taking of his son's life] and found a way to smuggle him out.
After several more years of traveling and wondering what had become of his only friend, Erik found himself back in France, having missed his native tongue too much. Once there he began to build houses and buildings for businessmen. Eventually he grew bored to tears with this and decided to visit his childhood home - intending to burn it to the ground. He found his mother had stayed and died there after many years of searching for him. Refusing to believe it was anything other than the act of a dying woman trying to get into Heaven, he left her funeral alone and sold the home shortly after, moving all the furniture elsewhere to be stored. It was while talking with her childhood friend that he discovered he'd missed out on the chance to design the Paris Opera.
His time in Persia had left him rich - both with honestly acquired riches as well as those he'd taken a fancy to and stolen away when he left. He determined to use this money to bribe the man in charge. After meeting with him, however, he was able to secure a position without bribes as the man's tutor had once taught Erik and he knew of Erik and his extraordinary skills [though he thought them fanciful tales until then].
While building the Opera, they hit many snags and ran up a lot of debt. Delving into his own pockets, Erik all but beggared himself to see the opera finished. It almost wasn't to be - when the war started construction on all government buildings ceased. This included the Opera. Erik used this time to make a house of sorts for himself beneath the opera, between the foundations that kept the underground river from destroying their hard work. Eventually the war ended, but not before Erik had a chance to steal a fair bit of gunpowder from the stores hidden in the Opera. He also acquired a pet during this time - a rare and beautiful Siamese cat named Ayesha.
With the construction of the Opera finished, Erik wasn't sure what he would do, until he remembered a joking comment he'd made to Garnier about the place needing a ghost. And thus began his haunting of the Opera. The managers were superstitious folk, and with a few notes and minor incidents he secured himself Box 5 for every show and 20,000 francs a month - not bad for a 'ghost'.
He ran into Nadir, who came to Paris after being exiled, to remember his good friend and to try to move on. It didn't take the former policeman long to figure out exactly what Erik was up to and the two remain on strained terms, with required meetings 2 times a month - or more, if Nadir feels they are needed.
New management was appointed and they gave Erik a hell of a time in regards to the monthly francs and his box. It was also around this time that Erik first laid eyes on a young ballet rat by the name of Christine Daae. She would be his undoing. He became obsessive with her and eventually tricked her into thinking he was an 'Angel of Music' who was sent by her father to teach her. After many months of lessons Christine's childhood sweetheart, the Vicomte de Chagny appeared and Erik felt threatened.
Taking the young Christine below to his home, he was shortly unmasked. Only a heart attack saved her [and him] from the terrible anger he felt and it was some time before he could take her above ground again, with the understanding that she would return to him for lessons and to visit often.
These were troubled times and eventually he learned that Christine meant to betray him and leave without so much as a goodbye. This was spurred by his proposal of marriage, which she apparently found too terrible to consider. He kidnapped her again, and his old friend Nadir came down below with the young Vicomte to save Christine. Eventually he let them all go, with what he felt was a pity kiss from the young singer driving him to action.
After they left, he intended to let himself wither away and die below the opera, but fate [or rather the ghosts of the Manor] had other plans and he soon found himself in the Manor with no real understanding of how or why he was there. He is not a happy camper.
RP Sample
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Erik paced the floor in the living room of his flat. He was tired, he was impatient, and he was lonely. And above and beyond that, he was bored. He knew his health had been suffering of late, due to the fact that he hadn't been eating or sleeping much at all. And he knew that Nadir had meant well - as had Mme. Giry - when they'd 'requested' that he stay in his flat. But that didn't stop the feelings of frustration, or of being trapped.
He growled, a low rumbling sound that would have sent chills down the spine if anyone had heard him, and then continued the pacing. Though it was more a stalk than an actual pace at this point. Angry eyes lashed out at his surroundings as he attempted to find something to vent on. He could feel his temper spiraling out of control, and weighed his options. Stay here, and possibly wreck his flat, Nadir's as well, and risk harming his friend. Or head into the streets, where he risked being caught, and hurting someone, but keeping the temper away from those he cared about.
The decision was actually harder for him to make than most would realize. He'd promised Nadir that there would be no more senseless killing, and he was still wary of the man. Friends they might be, but they were still on thin ice as far as his behavior went, and he wasn't sure that Nadir wouldn't turn him in if he killed someone.
During this internal struggle, Erik found himself standing in front of the fireplace, arms locked in place as his hands gripped the mantle. In a fit of anger, he swept all the items displayed there to the floor. The shattering of a vase brought him to his senses and he shook his head, the decision made. Another low growl, and he stalked outside, determining that the streets were a far safer place for him to be.
It didn't take him long to wander into some of the slums, his black mood determining exactly what sort of trouble he went looking for. Anyone who attempted to harm him in any way, or who possibly even crossed his path, was likely to get an unpleasant surprise.
Erik continued to stalk through the streets, his eyes blind to what was really around him. Seeing red was almost a literal description of how he got when he was in one of his moods. He wasn't in a blind rage - not yet, anyway. But he was in a black mood that was worsening by the moment. It wasn't just anger. It was depression. And it was looking to be a bad fit of it at that. Erik didn't have full on breaks often, but when he did it could be dangerous. Sometimes it was merely dangerous to him because he didn't eat, sleep, or take care of himself - as had been the case for the past while. Other times, however, it became lethal to those around him. Depressions were never alone. They were always accompanied by an anger that could sometimes devolve into a blind rage. Erik was teetering on the edge of one of those as he prowled the streets, more like a predator of the jungle than the human that others might see.
A cut off protest down a side alley brought Erik's attention in that direction, and also roused his temper further still. What he'd heard was a child - begging her 'papa' to stop yelling. The response had been audible - a resounding crack, and a cut off yelp, followed by soft sobbing. Erik's eyes narrowed as he angled in that direction, intending to find out just what had happened, and to teach that 'papa' a lesson in how to treat a child. Erik was many things, but he was not tolerant of an adult who struck a child, especially that hard, and especially when that adult was a parent of the child. He had no love of people, but there was just something about a parent striking a child that rubbed him the wrong way. Perhaps it was his own experiences as a child.
Regardless of that, he made quick time in getting over to the source of the noise, only to find a greasy and disgusting looking man beating on a small girl who's dress looked more like rags than anything acceptable to wear. The temper that had been roiling just under the surface broke free. With a loud roar he charged at the man, throwing him away from the wisp of a child, who was still cowering and crying softly. Wide brown eyes looked up to meet his own mismatched ones as he drove the man further away from the child. The fury was such that understandable speech was beyond him just then, and the only sounds he made were guttural snarls and feral sounding growls.
He lashed out at the man, who had been taken completely by surprise, blow after blow landing on their mark, while the man cowered and tried to run. This didn't phase Erik any, and he easily outmaneuvered the man at every turn. What finally stopped him was the pleading and sobbing of the small child just to his side. When she reached up and grabbed his arm he rounded on her, the almost blind rage and instinctive need to protect himself from everyone almost causing him to strike her. When she flinched, but held on and continued to plead with him to stop hurting her papa, he shook himself and looked between the man who he'd attacked and the child. The man was now crumpled on the pavement, and though he was alive and would definitely survive, he would definitely suffer for a while. Looking back to the child, her words started to make sense, though he couldn't truly understand why she was pleading for the man's life.
"Please monsieur, don't kill papa! Please don't hurt him!"
When he fully faced her, she flinched away, and the begging changed slightly, and what she said only made him feel worse. The rage, the fury, and the darkness roiling in his soul were gone - for now. Now he felt only shame. Shame, and the need to flee from the accusing and fearful eyes staring up at him from that tiny face. The girl flung herself on top of her father, who still had [barely] enough of his senses to hold her and stare up at the man who'd attacked him. With both sets of eyes staring at him, with the fearful and accusing stares boring into him, Erik did the only thing that he could.
He fled.
He hated running, hated feeling like a small child trapped behind those bars again, but that's what those stares had reminded him of. That and... the child had actually been afraid of him. Afraid of him for trying to protect her. He hated the state that most things were in nowadays that he would be seen as the monster, not the father who had beaten on his child. Not that the beating he'd given the man was the only reason he'd be seen as a monster. The thought was a bitter one, and cold tears threatened to spill as the whole sorry state of his life boiled up in his mind again.
Mindlessly running, he only slowed down when he was sure he was far from those eyes. Even the slightest thought of them triggered shudders in the tall figure, who was struggling to regain his composure and not draw even more unwanted attention to himself. At least it was late, dark already, and covering the worst of the things that set him apart from everyone else. Finally stopping, he chose what looked like a deserted side street and leaned his lanky form back against the brick wall, fighting to catch his breath - which he'd lost not from the running, but the near panic attack that had started, and to steady himself enough that he could make his way back home.
The events of the night were a bitter reminder of why he hated going outside and why he refused to, even when the moods he found himself in were dangerous. Lost to his thoughts, he was unaware of his surroundings, though that could change at a moment's notice, or the slightest sign of a threat.
Erik paced the floor in the living room of his flat. He was tired, he was impatient, and he was lonely. And above and beyond that, he was bored. He knew his health had been suffering of late, due to the fact that he hadn't been eating or sleeping much at all. And he knew that Nadir had meant well - as had Mme. Giry - when they'd 'requested' that he stay in his flat. But that didn't stop the feelings of frustration, or of being trapped.
He growled, a low rumbling sound that would have sent chills down the spine if anyone had heard him, and then continued the pacing. Though it was more a stalk than an actual pace at this point. Angry eyes lashed out at his surroundings as he attempted to find something to vent on. He could feel his temper spiraling out of control, and weighed his options. Stay here, and possibly wreck his flat, Nadir's as well, and risk harming his friend. Or head into the streets, where he risked being caught, and hurting someone, but keeping the temper away from those he cared about.
The decision was actually harder for him to make than most would realize. He'd promised Nadir that there would be no more senseless killing, and he was still wary of the man. Friends they might be, but they were still on thin ice as far as his behavior went, and he wasn't sure that Nadir wouldn't turn him in if he killed someone.
During this internal struggle, Erik found himself standing in front of the fireplace, arms locked in place as his hands gripped the mantle. In a fit of anger, he swept all the items displayed there to the floor. The shattering of a vase brought him to his senses and he shook his head, the decision made. Another low growl, and he stalked outside, determining that the streets were a far safer place for him to be.
It didn't take him long to wander into some of the slums, his black mood determining exactly what sort of trouble he went looking for. Anyone who attempted to harm him in any way, or who possibly even crossed his path, was likely to get an unpleasant surprise.
Erik continued to stalk through the streets, his eyes blind to what was really around him. Seeing red was almost a literal description of how he got when he was in one of his moods. He wasn't in a blind rage - not yet, anyway. But he was in a black mood that was worsening by the moment. It wasn't just anger. It was depression. And it was looking to be a bad fit of it at that. Erik didn't have full on breaks often, but when he did it could be dangerous. Sometimes it was merely dangerous to him because he didn't eat, sleep, or take care of himself - as had been the case for the past while. Other times, however, it became lethal to those around him. Depressions were never alone. They were always accompanied by an anger that could sometimes devolve into a blind rage. Erik was teetering on the edge of one of those as he prowled the streets, more like a predator of the jungle than the human that others might see.
A cut off protest down a side alley brought Erik's attention in that direction, and also roused his temper further still. What he'd heard was a child - begging her 'papa' to stop yelling. The response had been audible - a resounding crack, and a cut off yelp, followed by soft sobbing. Erik's eyes narrowed as he angled in that direction, intending to find out just what had happened, and to teach that 'papa' a lesson in how to treat a child. Erik was many things, but he was not tolerant of an adult who struck a child, especially that hard, and especially when that adult was a parent of the child. He had no love of people, but there was just something about a parent striking a child that rubbed him the wrong way. Perhaps it was his own experiences as a child.
Regardless of that, he made quick time in getting over to the source of the noise, only to find a greasy and disgusting looking man beating on a small girl who's dress looked more like rags than anything acceptable to wear. The temper that had been roiling just under the surface broke free. With a loud roar he charged at the man, throwing him away from the wisp of a child, who was still cowering and crying softly. Wide brown eyes looked up to meet his own mismatched ones as he drove the man further away from the child. The fury was such that understandable speech was beyond him just then, and the only sounds he made were guttural snarls and feral sounding growls.
He lashed out at the man, who had been taken completely by surprise, blow after blow landing on their mark, while the man cowered and tried to run. This didn't phase Erik any, and he easily outmaneuvered the man at every turn. What finally stopped him was the pleading and sobbing of the small child just to his side. When she reached up and grabbed his arm he rounded on her, the almost blind rage and instinctive need to protect himself from everyone almost causing him to strike her. When she flinched, but held on and continued to plead with him to stop hurting her papa, he shook himself and looked between the man who he'd attacked and the child. The man was now crumpled on the pavement, and though he was alive and would definitely survive, he would definitely suffer for a while. Looking back to the child, her words started to make sense, though he couldn't truly understand why she was pleading for the man's life.
"Please monsieur, don't kill papa! Please don't hurt him!"
When he fully faced her, she flinched away, and the begging changed slightly, and what she said only made him feel worse. The rage, the fury, and the darkness roiling in his soul were gone - for now. Now he felt only shame. Shame, and the need to flee from the accusing and fearful eyes staring up at him from that tiny face. The girl flung herself on top of her father, who still had [barely] enough of his senses to hold her and stare up at the man who'd attacked him. With both sets of eyes staring at him, with the fearful and accusing stares boring into him, Erik did the only thing that he could.
He fled.
He hated running, hated feeling like a small child trapped behind those bars again, but that's what those stares had reminded him of. That and... the child had actually been afraid of him. Afraid of him for trying to protect her. He hated the state that most things were in nowadays that he would be seen as the monster, not the father who had beaten on his child. Not that the beating he'd given the man was the only reason he'd be seen as a monster. The thought was a bitter one, and cold tears threatened to spill as the whole sorry state of his life boiled up in his mind again.
Mindlessly running, he only slowed down when he was sure he was far from those eyes. Even the slightest thought of them triggered shudders in the tall figure, who was struggling to regain his composure and not draw even more unwanted attention to himself. At least it was late, dark already, and covering the worst of the things that set him apart from everyone else. Finally stopping, he chose what looked like a deserted side street and leaned his lanky form back against the brick wall, fighting to catch his breath - which he'd lost not from the running, but the near panic attack that had started, and to steady himself enough that he could make his way back home.
The events of the night were a bitter reminder of why he hated going outside and why he refused to, even when the moods he found himself in were dangerous. Lost to his thoughts, he was unaware of his surroundings, though that could change at a moment's notice, or the slightest sign of a threat.
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Credits
Template & Graphics © Admin Leffie
Song Lyrics Used: "Old Souls" from The Phantom of the Paradise. Music & Lyrics by Paul Williams.
Song Lyrics Used: "Old Souls" from The Phantom of the Paradise. Music & Lyrics by Paul Williams.
