The Man
-
A Ball...
+Full Name+
Chase Malakai Hendrix
+Alias(es)+
Psychopath, Kai, Devil Dog, The Red Howl
+Birthday+
June 19th
+Apparent Age+
28
+Nationality+
Irish
+Race+
Born werewolf
+Scar/Tattoos+
He is covered in both
+Relationship+
Consumed by Aurora Vanguard
+Occupation+
He is too violent to keep one. He steals, or murders for resources
+Played By+
Bill Huxley
+Height+
6'3"
+Weight+
223 Lbs
+Hair Colour+
Brown
+Eye Colour+
Grassy Green, Very often angry or hard
+Addictions+
Aurora| Sex | Drinking | Fighting | Smoking
+Voice+
Deep rumble that's laced with hatred
+Scent+
If one can catch him not covered in blood and brain matter, the scent of the woods, waters and fire cling to him.
+Theme Song+
-
Of Lust and Rage
Appearance:
Chase is built like a weapon. Six feet and three inches of muscle and quiet menace. His body is all sharp edges and tension, shaped by years of violence and survival. Scars and tattoos cover nearly every inch of his skin. Knives, nails, blades, runes, and demons inked between old wounds. He’s addicted to the pain, always adding something new, always bleeding for something he won’t explain. His hair is a tousled shade of brown, sometimes catching a reddish hue in the light. His jaw stays rough with scruff, and his mouth holds a smirk that warns more than it charms. But it’s his eyes that leave a mark. A grassy green that is hauntingly beautiful, and cold with barely-contained rage. Looking at him feels like watching a storm roll in, and knowing it’s already too late to run.
Personality:
Chase is a former wild-child turned barely-contained storm. Once the pack’s biggest problem, he’s now a man walking the line between restraint and rage. Sarcastic, sharp-tongued, and always simmering just beneath the surface, Chase has spent years training to control the fury inside him. And while he’s managed to give himself a slightly longer fuse, make no mistake. When it burns out, he still detonates. But beneath the anger lies something unshakable: loyalty. For those he calls family, his brothers, his lover, he would bleed, kill, or die without hesitation. He may be a bastard, but he’s their bastard, and he’ll protect them to his last breath.
Skills:
Chase is big, fast, brutal. A walking weapon honed by pain and purpose. Built like a battering ram and twice as relentless, he doesn’t dodge fights. He ends them. Years of surviving pack life, monk conditioning, and personal hell have turned him into a living war machine. His strength is monstrous, his speed deceptive for his size, and his instincts deadly sharp. He’s not the strategist. He is the strategy. Throw him into the blood and chaos and let him tear through whatever’s in the way. He’s frontline by design, the kind of force you send in when you want the message loud and carved in bodies. The second wave rarely sees action, because Chase doesn’t leave much standing. When he's unleashed, there's no off-switch. He doesn't fight fair. He fights to end it, and if that means teeth, claws, fists, or raw fury, so be it. He's not a soldier. He’s a storm.
Education:
Chase spent more time behind the school than in it. Fighting, drinking, smoking, and chasing whatever thrill was loudest. He didn’t have the patience for classrooms, textbooks, or sitting still while someone lectured about things he’d never use. Authority never held much weight with him, especially when he could outfight half the teachers and outwit the rest. But don’t mistake his defiance for stupidity. Instead, Chase is sharp in the ways that matter to him. Reading people, knowing when to push and when to pull, how to navigate tension before it explodes... or how to make sure it does. His education came from alleys, bars, backwoods brawls, and a decade of brutal monk discipline that carved him into something lethal and controlled. He’s street-smart to the bone, with instincts that kept him alive where books wouldn’t. He’s not your honor-roll golden boy. He’s the reason they installed extra security at the school gate.
Lover:
Sex is one of Chase’s many vices. A way to feel, to forget, to burn through whatever’s clawing at him from the inside. It’s not about romance. It’s about control, release, and the momentary silence it brings to the war in his head. He’s dangerously good at it. All instinct, all dominance, all raw power. When he’s calm, which is rare, he’s the kind of lover people don’t forget. But connection? That’s never been part of the plan. Until her.
His heart , what’s left of it , has been set ablaze by the one woman who doesn’t flinch when he growls, the one who matches him strike for strike, shadow for shadow: the fiery Vanguard huntress, Aurora. She didn’t just crawl under his skin. She scorched his soul. Everything changed the moment she crossed his path. He lives for her now, breathes her name in the dark, and if it came down to it, he’d die without hesitation just to see her safe. She's chaos wrapped in fire, and the only thing that's ever truly calmed the storm in him. (Story developing.)
Psychological Status:
Chase is a storm barely held in check. Volatile, unpredictable, and constantly toeing the line between control and chaos. His moods shift without warning, often violent, always intense. One minute he’s dead silent, the next he’s laughing at something no one else finds funny. The next, he's tearing out a throat with his teeth. There’s a rawness to him that never quite settles, like he’s always waiting for a fight to break out. Inside or out. He doesn’t trust easy. Doesn’t like people. Doesn’t even really like other wolves. They talk too much, smell too clean, and expect him to play by rules he’s never respected. Crowds grate on his nerves. Small talk feels like nails in his skull. He keeps to himself not because he enjoys the silence, but because it’s safer for everyone. When he’s alone, no one gets hurt. Except maybe him.
Despite his loner streak, Chase doesn’t actually handle solitude well. He just doesn’t know what to do with connection, either. The rare few who get close to him, the ones who see past the snarling sarcasm and madness are the only thing that keeps the leash from snapping entirely. Without them, he's unstable at best, dangerous at worst. But with them, there’s a sliver of balance... a crack of something almost human in the wreckage. -
Fashion Sense:
Chase is more often than not naked or in his wolf form, but when he is dressed, it’s muscle shirts, jeans, chains, and rings. He especially loves his rings. -
