Jump to content
18+ 3/3/3

May, 2010... Fantasy became reality. Worlds overlay for the briefest moment. Outworlders became stranded on earth as more than half the human populace vanished. Our World, our universe, was transformed.

Fiction is now reality. Humans and those now bound to this world will either learn to coexist, or battle for supremecy.

Kai Alexander Morgan

No Faction
  • Content Count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

Community Reputation

519 Godly Level of Awesome

About Kai Alexander Morgan

  • Rank
    Nicely Seasoned


    Luke Evans
  • RACE
    Lycanthrope, Jaguar
  • JOB
    LMSW, Psychiatrist, Psychologist, Phys Trainer, teaches self-defense; retired Navy Special Ops
  • 'SHIP:
    Mack...? Current whereabouts and fate unknown.
    New York, NY
    Kai is taller than average but not exceptionally so; barely dusting over six feet. Despite his gently imposing stature, he always appears warm and confident with a quick smile and a playful glitter to his eyes. Preferably, he wears dark tees, a black Navy pea coat, a black knit cap, simple jeans and black boots. When he's working, he wears a casual suit with no tie that gravitates toward fall palette neutral colors. He is the epitome of a casual, confident soul and works very hard to appear as such.

    Hair is dark brown, when long it curls slightly, when short it's often vertical due to its thickness. He can be either clean shaven or with a slight scruff depending on his mood and lunar time. Eyes are deep green, rimmed in hazel and hooded underneath unusually expressive eyebrows. Upper and lower jaw have strangely pronounced canines- an oddity that was present even before the Resonance.

    Moving gracefully at his height he is also extraordinarily fit, purposefully keeping his weight down to maximize speed and agility. He has a multitude of scars without rhyme or reason: several bullet holes on his right arm and shoulder, a clip in his eyebrow and on the bow of his top lip, a slightly nicked left ear, a stab wound on his left kidney and a plethora of small scars around his hands and knuckles. He also has a slight divot in his right collarbone. He has no fingerprints.
    To the casual observer, Kai seems a calm and collected fashionable Brit whose slight Welsh accent is often mistaken for an English one. In truth, he struggles fiercely with control. Kai was born, bred, raised, trained and damaged in the former American Special Operations. He was an exceedingly faithful lion on a leash; unquestioning, meticulous and thorough in his execution of assignments. Orderly. Controlled. He paid a tremendous price. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, clinical PTSD and Dependent Personality Disorder now litter his consciousness. Kai lacks empathy, a serious symptom of his PTSD. Now, he battles a painful polarity over his need for order and service, and the emotionally charged sensuality to hostility in his L-infected new body. Every day is a conscious fight to find his humanity. The antagonism of his personality is staggering, constantly searching for for calm equilibrium.

    On one end of the spectrum, Kai is a master of finite control over himself and his faults. He is able to effectively and gently blend into his surroundings, always cordial and warm in public. He has taken his specialized skills and is attempting to use them for a purpose other than destructive order; becoming educated in clinical psychology and psychiatry. Kai’s interest has been honed to assist in the struggle of the new society to live in a post-Resonance world; particularly effective in counseling the altered, victims of abuse, addicts and violent offenders. His chosen profession has a greater purpose for him; he is trying to reacquaint himself with a human, civilian world and relearn empathy. He is learning to copy normal behavior, and be at peace with his new body.

    On the other end, Lycanthropy burns his blood- to those that study him a bit more closely there is a chilling darkness under the surface that hovers in his presence. Angry he wasn't strong enough to avoid infection, he has developed a terrible self-hatred of his fate and is very quick to snap at anyone he deems a threat. If they are inconsequential, physical violence suffices. If they can hurt him socially in some way, he will deal for the time being and take care of them later on his own terms. As a human, he felt nothing to kill- discharged for that very fact. His new body however craves attention, touch and violence on his strict terms. The urge to kill now excites him, and the emotion is terrifying. The fear of losing control is constant and crushing.

    Stress over this duality continues to escalate his already psychological points of concern. When alone, Kai will often scrub his fingernails, fingertips and skin until they bleed. He detests bright colors and strong manufactured scents; literally losing the ability to speak due to the over-stimulation of both diseases. The human irritation and infected personalities seem to collide. If stimulated as a human, Kai becomes agitated and dangerously impulsive to physical violence- escalating the closer he gets to the full moon. He satiates this by either training until he can no longer stand, or removing himself early to his monthly safe space out of the city.

    He is sensitive to questions about his past; he simply doesn’t wish to divulge what he did in the name of peace. On the outside, he is a well-adjusted, upstanding member of Post-Resonance society. On the inside, his world is dark, confused, impulsive, feral and emotionally vulnerable; but at his very core he is what he seemed destined to be, a relentless and aggressive hunter.
    Kai lives on the top level of an apartment complex in Inwood decorated exclusively in whites and pale grays. His home reflects his need for quiet order. Walls are white with few decorations or personal items; furnishings are mostly white in a modern and simple style. Bedroom is completely white, not an item out of alignment or order. He enjoys minimalism; everything is elegant, simple, and has a purpose. Every once in a while he will bring in a bright bouquet of flowers, tolerating them as long as he can stand before giving them to the elderly lady across the hall; to which he also buys groceries and keeps an eye on her.

    One of his favorite “normal” possessions is a home theater system, his collection of vintage symphony, classical and art music recordings a distraction that seems to tame the compulsive beast. Bach is able to catch his attention, whereas Chopin seems to calm him. Kai will spend his Saturdays scouring local vintage stores for more recordings he doesn’t have; something he doesn’t yet recognize as a hobby, only a stimuli that seems to make him feel more normal.

    He drives a silver 2009 G-Class Mercedes Utility Vehicle. The truck is always meticulous and well kept, even in the winter months. Inside is his monthly survival pack for his trips into the Appalachians during his shift.

    Most of his service weapons are still in his possession; taking them out once a week to clean. All of his weapons are stored carefully in a floorboard safe under his kitchen table in specialized sleek cases
    -BOW- Mathews Switchback customized to his measurements with adequate arrows and a custom quiver that attaches to his shoulder holster.
    -SNIPER RIFLE- Modified Barrett 82A1 with limited ammunition and specialized optics.
    -2 HANDGUNS- Para USA P-14-45 and carries an extra clip each when he carries. Custom inner pants and shoulder holsters.
    -2 BLADES- Rockstead UN-ZDP Japanese Fixed 5-1/2" Blade, Tetsukon Silk Wrapped Handle with specialized sheaths for his forearm and ankle.

    He has one plant, a beautiful African Violet he calls "Sophia". He found it tipped over and in atrocious shape when he moved in and has taken care of it ever since, nursing it into an impressive specimen with the help of Mrs. Kolcheck; the elderly lady across the hall. Kai has no idea why he calls it Sophia, only that the name stirs a distinct warm tickle in his brain.

    LMSW Office in Inwood, leases a Physical and Occupational Therapy treatment studio several nights a week in the same building for his classes. Kai becomes viciously feral, sexually possessive and protective several days before the full moon. Senses begin to enhance and his emotional state wildly fluctuates; blood, pheromones and strong scents increase the irritability. He always runs his self-defense classes in three week cycles to avoid the week surrounding his shift. Since his students are mostly women, he chooses to remove himself from their proximity until he recovers; retreating monthly to his safe space in the Pennsylvanian Appalachians until it passes.


    Lycanthrope, Jaguar

    In human form, Kai is physically exceptional, his training and consistent dedication to fitness keeping him in incredible shape pre and post-Resonance. As a result of the infection, his physical fortitude and skills are congruent with the average male Lycanthrope in all forms. He has no pack mentality, and is a solitary Lycanthrope. He is NOT aware with human consciousness while transformed at any time.

    When moving from man to beast, he is completely conscious when bones slide and flesh moves. Only during the last throes before the disease takes his human intelligence does the pain stop and animal instinct take over. He always takes every step to knock himself out cold with various concoctions of tranquilizers, but occasionally he cannot do it in time if extreme circumstances prevent his precautions. It is rare he is conscious when beast transforms painfully back to man, but it does happen.

    During the actual nights of the full moon, he is an overly aggressive Lycanthrope in full kill mode; he hunts fiercely and is incredibly agile in bursts of violent, destructive power. Human intelligence completely disintegrates and succumbs to the infection. If he does not sequester himself and successfully remove exterior scent stimulation from his surroundings before his shift, he will hunt down and kill the stimuli. Bloodlust never seems to be satiated before he returns to human form, and he wakes from delirium with an emotional rush that takes several days to shed.

    On the weaker days of the full moon, he doesn't quite get that far. His transformation will sputter out into a form that resembles the actual Jaguar cat- an oddly large and feral looking Jaguar trophy for whomever wants to put a bullet in his brain. Excessively territorial of personal space and "possessions" (persons or places), this form is still the most susceptible to tranquilizers. However if he burns through the tranquilizers, he wanders his territory like a guard dog- hunting, sleeping and otherwise terrorizing local populations and wildlife.
    -Military Special Operations training, Navy SEAL, Marksman, Honorary Discharge for “other physical and mental injuries”. Though the formal papers never reached his hands, it was an unavoidable impending end to his career interrupted only by the Resonance.

    -Multilingual- speaks fluent Arabic, Russian and Spanish, can identify all major dialects.

    -Licensed Master Social Worker.

    -Organized, methodical and a gifted teacher.
    Kai is the first American generation from a Welsh born family. His father already a standout in British intelligence, Kai was a natural successor to his legacy. Retired, his parents immigrated to the United States under a sanctioned new identity to live as a normal family; where Kai was born to accompany an older sister of ten. Parents enrolled him in military school very early in his education. He was content with strict and rigid regimens, and was most comfortable following orders; training relentlessly until new skills were mastered, and never questioning a chain of command.

    Early in his military career, he entered Navy SEAL training; excelling in marksmanship. Kai’s major role was the execution of highly classified missions to hostile countries. As the missions went forward, growing concerns about the stress to his mental health were raised upon each debriefing at the completion of an assignment. Further psychological examinations revealed that stress was shorting out empathetic pathways in his brain. Focus and training had allowed him to set aside emotion to complete assignments, but as a result he was losing the ability to process the consequences of his actions; escalating aggression and impulsiveness in response to innocuous perceived threats sealing his fate. Shortly before the Resonance, decisions had been made to reduce his operational tasks, then retire him from service. The chance never came.

    His final assignment overlapped the first Nevus. They needed the best, he was the best. Moving his way through barren and extremely hostile territory, the catastrophic Event sheared his world in two- literally. Africa- the root of the end of the world. His last moments as a normal man on earth were swathed in pain and terror. One foot in our reality, the other in something he barely has the words even now to describe. All have seen the Nevus, Kai nearly drowned in the depths of the tidal wave that crashed through him as it engulfed the landscape. His body caught in a tug-of-war between the two worlds until released back to this half of reality; broken, viciously burning with infection and near death. It was almost a year before he returned to what was left of the states. There was nothing to come home to. No command, no military. Nobody. He has struggled ever since trying to find direction without strict parameters, and cope with the emotional flood of his new body. Dreams are still filled with distorted visions of his moments ripped between two worlds, unable to explain, unsettled with knowing he is not quite "normal" like others of his kind... and unwilling to share in order to find answers.

Profile Fields

  • Primary
    Bodhan Marin
  • Typist's Role Play History
    Since the beginning of time
  • Role Play Sample
    See primary character
  • How did you hear about us?


  • Are you over 18+?

Recent Profile Visitors

18,784 profile views
  1. Kai Alexander Morgan


    That your best pick up line? Smile was as easy as the quiet laugh, taking a drink of the coffee that had been placed before him. Of all the places he’d been, coffee was the thing that strung them all together. That little bit of familiarity when everything was always so unfamiliar and uninviting. Just grabbing something hot before I head out into the cold front that came through while the festivities have been underway. Must have had the same thought, the weather definitely has not been kind. He knew why she was really there, everyone seemed to be looking for trouble or knew it was there and was completely ignoring it. This was a powder keg and the fools running it were going to figure that out sooner than later. “I’ll have what she’s having” Case in point. He took another drink of his coffee, watching the monitor a moment and then the ‘bartender’ glancing at his watch. “Working huh?” That was his cue to leave. Every vile scent that was grinding against the inside of his nostrils was beginning to slice at his threads of tolerance for this shitstorm. The tang of gunmetal against his scent palate was the final trigger. Last of the coffee was downed and he stood, pulling out a slender wallet and quietly sliding more money than was necessary under his coffee cup. Glance was cast to the other Were in the room, coat over his arm he took his leave. Footsteps were silent across the polished floor, even under the roar of the crowd at a fight almost finished they were just ingrained in his movement. It was becoming more and more apparent he may have to do the unthinkable to shut the place down, or at least stall its thunder. He’d thought about it more than once. The world didn’t need a reason to make Weres any more of a target than they already were. If Gallo kept winning, the bullseye would keep getting bigger. If the world thought nobody could stop a Were, none of his kind would be safe. He would either have to take the place down, or stop the Were. It was beginning to look like he’d have to do both. Eyes were now casually studying everything as he made his way out. Memorizing. Movement. Checkpoints. Uniformed. Non-uniformed. Flow. Entrances. Exits. The map in his head was becoming complete. Sliding his coat on, he paused a moment to survey the place again as it was buttoned. Scarf wrapped neatly around his neck, gloves, keys. He really wanted to melt into places that were off limits, watching the monitor in the main hall to see the match almost come to an end. Messy. Fighting was messy. People were really caught up in this craziness. If they were distracted, he might have a peek at the underbelly of this place...
  2. Kai Alexander Morgan


    ((I can jump in to get this rolling again if needed))
  3. Kai Alexander Morgan


    "Outward is safer for those inside the box." The side of his lip smirked upward slightly at her 'wise' words. "Takes all the fun out of it," he remarked quietly. There was humor in it, mostly to himself, and he was about his business. Something no one except his office staff knew, was that the scent of coffee grounded him. In a former life, moments of focus among days of solitary had been compressed into a singular scent. His decision to enter the bar wasn't just seeking out the point of contention with the whole mess, it was seeking out a moment of focus to confront it. He would also never have this chance again. Everything about him was smooth, oiled, placed. No clenched fists or ticking forearm muscles, and the ease at which he smiled was chilling if you knew what lay beneath. The pleasantry even extended to his eyes, where most had a tightness that betrayed their mood, his held an easy calm. Aloof. Nothing betrayed him on his exterior countenance. If anything, the man looked disinterested- interacting enough to get what he needed and leave. Below the surface was another matter, no less irritated when cash was held up for an espresso. She'd boxed him in of sorts. That wasn't a good thing to do, follow or confront, but... don't corner a killer. Not unexpected if someone picked up on his Were. Everyone was always looking for monsters. "Day off or subtly working today?" Already much had been revealed. Casual suitcoat was smoothed across his lap, elbows on the bar and fingers intertwining lightly as he glanced coyly over his shoulder at her without a word. Security. Or cop. If she was security, she would most likely be working and not ordering espresso. Cop. Interesting. So was the man's choice to address him. “Are we going to have a problem with you and your beast? Or will you be able to keep it together?” The quiet laugh was easy, watching the screen just over the 'champion's' shoulder as another eruption from the crowd made even the bar vibrate. "Depends on how good your coffee is," he responded quietly, turning his attention to Raeden. Truth was, coming close to touching the quiet feline was the best way for someone to get sucker punched. Or dead. "Is there something I can do for you?" question was pleasant to the officer, tone amused as he turned his attention back to the tv and waited for coffee. "I'm about to take care of something."
  4. Kai Alexander Morgan


    Eyes flicked in her direction, features softening into a quiet smile as he closed the door gently. "No, my apologies. Seems like this place has enough money to pay someone to build it properly. Maybe with doors that open inward away from crowds." He adjusted his jacket slightly, smoothing it to perfection. Voice was quiet... penetrating... made one's spine straighten when heard for no visible reason. For all intents and purposes, he looked normal. Neat and impeccable, but normal. "Apparently they were more concerned with making sure patrons had a three sixty HD view. Sorry about the door, have a good night." The final nod was cordial, the trash talk was not. He focused on his footsteps, perfectly placed and echoing off the floor with the grace of a cat. Passing the bar, he found them stopping at the scent of coffee above all the blood, pheromones and booze. This split second it took him to assess the situation was already over. He knew who had the firearms. He knew how long it would take him to get to his sudden target. How many he would have to avoid in between. Potential collateral. Potential danger. Exact target... even the ghost feel of the pull on the trigger brushed his finger. It was frightening how quickly it happened in his brain, and how calmly he was now actively thinking about it. He could stop this madness with one bullet. Just one. Instead, toe crossed the threshold and he made his way to the bar, meticulous agility not touching anyone. Skin had already started its hum, irritated, angry, lashing out invisibly at anything and everyone. The man had more strength and control than anyone would ever know. The cat's murder button was tripped the moment he stepped in, looking for something to latch onto. The man, had one intent only, sitting at the bar now being tended by a wolf that had a proverbial bullseye on his forehead; the man that had bared their existence to the world when the cat had been shut down hard before. One that was now flying in the face of everything he'd tried to accomplish. The cat in his gut had already imprinted, and it's teeth were bared viciously under the calm and comfortable visage of a businessman in an impeccable suit. He didn't drink, so... "Coffee please," he asked quietly, reaching to his back pocket to pull a wallet, seemingly disinterested in anything but his coffee. He didn't need to bluster or threaten "to fight the big champ" to get someone's attention. He just had to order coffee.
  5. Kai Alexander Morgan


    Focus and memorize. Focus and memorize. The mantra had taken over his thoughts, the entirety of everything he could see catalogued into permanent knowledge. Kneejerk knowledge that could be called upon in any circumstance... whether dark, in panic, defense of oneself, seen or unseen purpose. Another roar from the crowd tickled his skin with irritation. The scents and smells were being kept at bay with his concentration, but his skin was hot and his patience was thin. Stepping out into an even more quiet rotunda, it seemed the apex of the fight was drawing those inward and beer filled bladders kept at bay. Perfect time for some air. The small, dark suite was left for a second time as he made his way toward the restroom, spending a moment splashing water on his face and running fingers through his hair. Stepping out, he took the moment to scan the rotunda, cameras, security... the bar. Passing by, the pause the was brief, familiar scent matching a face picked out almost immediately. No matter how much he drenched himself in whatever he wore, the exhaust from his car clung to him like smoke. The scent had stoked the cat. Normally he'd be concerned, but this one bastard's imprint the cat internally snarled at. He wouldn't lose a night's sleep over it. Timing though, he'd wanted to stay the entirety of the whole debacle... time to go. This was one person he was going to avoid. For now anyway. He keyed in once more to his suite, closing the door behind him and began to retrieve his coat and things to return the key and leave before the end of the fight. Immaculate coat over his arm, he exited quietly and made his way to the key-check.
  6. Kai Alexander Morgan


    He hadn't moved in quite some time, standing stoic in the shadows with his hands in his pockets. Alone. Dark gray meticulous slacks and a pale lavender button down made him look like he was supposed to be in the suite he'd purchased to watch this atrocity. Fact was, he'd purchased the whole damn room. Where other suites around him were packed to the gills, his was dark... and quiet, the pale green irises not missing a moment of anything that was taking place below as he watched over the railing. He'd stepped out a few moments ago to squelch the echo of the stadium with the lesser noise of the rotunda behind for a couple minutes, less than pleased expression causing several women to back off. They'd seen his suite was empty, tried to pry an opportunity, and were left with nothing but his glare and a slammed door in their faces when he returned to his room. A drink of water from the small kitchenette, the glass clinked on the counter the same moment the crowd erupted. He wanted to go, but he couldn't. It was that important he stay. Now, arms were crossed, thumbs tapping on his biceps as he watched. This had to stop. This whole damn operation had to stop, but he had to see it for himself first. Every last shitty bit of it. Nostrils flared slightly as he stepped to the upper deck railing and leaned on it with his forearms, it was a nauseating twist of scents that were assaulting him. He had to remain focused. Focus and memorize. Every detail, every area, every employee. Movement. Flow. A bar. The noise of the damn bar near him was damaging his calm, taking a step back from the railing into the darker box suite when he recognized a face. Sigh was long, eyes moving back to the crowd. He couldn't deal with this shit much longer.
  7. Kai Alexander Morgan

    Subtle Sabotage

    New World Therapy and Health Services Shortly before the grand opening of Satyr Stadium Late afternoon Gena was cleaning the coffee pot in the break area, he could hear it layered between the cacophonies of pounding feet on the treadmills. A fresh brew was coming, it was the only scent he really truly loved. Eyes were carefully watching Chris on the wooden dummy as he waited for the new pot to finish, the guy was fast, but was already moving to the next hit before committing to the first. “Being fast isn’t the goal,” he said quietly, catching the man’s fist with unnatural speed before it hit the target, deflecting the weak punch to the side. Chris stumbled back slightly. “I… I don’t want to break the dummy.” Kai shook his head, “you won’t. I barely pushed you and you lost your footing.” “Yah, but you’re…” he let it trail, lowering his voice, “…like me. Stronger.” The expressive brows quirked at him as he crossed his arms, “it’s built for us, to withstand our punches. Do it again.” Chris was one of the first Weres the cat had ever been able to tolerate for longer periods of time. The veteran was building quite a school of students in his new facility. Classes were starting to give way to individual training sessions. He actually liked it better. The solitary Were seemed to be becoming more welcoming… perhaps he was just building up the resilience to control the cat. It may have helped that Chris was also of the feline variety, but he wasn’t a strong Were and was definitely nowhere near dominant despite his appearance. The guy was big, had a few inches on the Brit and was built like a linebacker. If the world were normal, in a bareknuckle it would be obvious who would win. It wasn’t normal, Kai had a mix of complications, and Chris had been a bus driver that dabbled in botany. Not that a bus driver that was also a competitive gardener couldn’t kick ass, it was just Chris hadn't, still couldn’t and most likely never would. The big guy did it again. He was fast, still noncommittal. Chris simply didn’t want to hit things. A long breath was drawn, tapping his thumbs on his biceps, “you’re not ready for a competitive fight.” “I know,” he took a towel and wiped it over his features. “I withdrew this morning.” Kai’s features were quizzical, inside… he was elated. Third victory in as many weeks. He’d taken it upon himself to personally seek out all the opponents signing up for that shitstorm of an entertainment venue and convince them to back out. His arguments were valid. They would become targets for being what they were, most likely get the crap kicked out of them, and not win anything. “Are you sure?” Chris nodded, soft spoken, “you’re right, the money is tempting but… I still don’t want people to know what I am.” He glanced around the room. “Nobody here knows about you, and you could kick my ass.” “It’s not about ass-kicking Chris, really.” There was a twinge of something, empathy? The conversation continued quietly. “It’s about not making us look like complete rabid brutes. We’re targets for a variety of reasons, we don’t need to show the world how vicious we can be. Mages… Outworlders… they have the good fortune of still being seen as human. We don’t. People see us as animals. I don’t want to hide, but fighting in a ring in front of thousands of people is not the way to let people know who we are. Proud of you for realizing it wasn't something for you.” He took Chris’ place at the dummy, snapping through a series of motions. The reinforced machine strained against his pulled punches. “Before you move, feel all your forward momentum exit through your fist before committing to your next move. Again.” He stepped back and Chris ran through the complex series of moves again. "Better." Kai’s always calm exterior hid the churning thoughts, resisting the urge to smile to himself as he crossed his arms and watched his student... another cancel. Another victory.
  8. Kai Alexander Morgan


    Nostrils flared, the tick of scents rolling around him were starting to light up. Before; cement, street oil, the exhaust from the hulk of a car. Now... other things. The lingering scent of something burning, cinnamon maybe. Cat had stirred ever so slightly a few moments prior, now it was honing on point. Definitely awake, definitely alert. Not a good thing. The stranger was different. Hostile. He should have just left. Really. His brow came down ever slightly. He was always armed, and the idiot was a brazen example of hubris. Less than two seconds. Two taps. The Were would have the keys to the place, the keys to the man's car, and anything he wanted access to in the entire stadium until somebody caught up with him. You really think weres are the worst that could walk through here? Please. This place has to withstand fourth and fifth level mages…enhanced that can cause small nuclear explosions…. earth elementals that can cause magnitude 8 earthquakes. Him. He was worse. The cat fell quiet, senses flushing out wide and acutely aware of everything. His companion. The roll of exhaust still lingering around the brute car. It was when his gut became stealth that things were dangerous and unpredictable. He was much worse. A little cage will hold all that?.... ya right….. why is it that everyone thinks they know how this will work without havin' a clue whats behind the walls… thinks I am an idiot puttin' t'gether a straw box to hold back fire? It was clear the man most likely only noticed things that were big and loud because he seemed himself to be big and loud. A man, out for a run, quietly asking questions? Forgettable. Maybe. The smile from the well mannered Were brought a soft huff through his nose that was as close as he got to an eyeroll. It was an easy smile though, casual and conceding, his unusually pronounced canines briefly exposed before he decided it was best to leave the man be. He'd come back later. Of course... His tone, was kind. It was always kind. I wish you all the best with it. Because it will fail horribly. Hood was flipped back, Navy beanie off again to slide back the shorn hair before pulling it back down over his ears and replacing his hood. He knelt to re-tie a shoe, glancing at Pandora. Time to leave. He was done, no matter how much he wanted to shred the guy just to bring wicked and damaging press down on the place. If Pandora hadn't been there, he would have. Doubtful the man even knew how close to death he was. Entirely doubtful... and that was a terrifying thought.
  9. Kai Alexander Morgan


    Better myself than a street tart….. Cat quivered heavy in his gut, almost blinking from its slumber. He didn’t know her well, but she had sought him out for help once and thought enough of him to recognize him after all this time. The asshole remark toward her comment flicked at his ear like an irritant, it wasn't okay. Apparently though, his last words were enough to get his attention. Yes…. I do actually…….. …..especially….. for weres…. “No... you don’t.” His voice was gentle, it always was, in that place just above a whisper that sounded contemplative and forceful simultaneously. Some had described it to him as a commanding gentleness, others as silence before a storm. Either way, it had the timbre to be believed. The Were wasn't fucking around. He knew he was right, he was looking at two weaknesses at that exact moment. Trust me…… there isnt security like this…… anywhere…….. Cat ears picked up his words, response delivered absently as gaze traveled over the building again. “Unless you have cameras broadcasting the fights in reinforced steel boxes, they’re in cages. What happens if the Weres are tranq resistant?” Like him. “Cages aren’t enough.” Now he was straight up curious. He knew all the precautions, eyes came off a section of the stadium exterior he would be taking another look at later without anyone here, settling on the key clinker. Half the inquisitiveness was for what exactly the world thought a Were was capable of breaking through, the other was whether or not they had tricks he hadn’t thought of. Thus far, nothing for him had worked- and he knew his strength better than anyone. If he stepped in that cage, people would die. He couldn't believe he was the only one like him out there, and he wasn't about to watch people kill his kind because they thought they could contain them. “How could you possibly plan for whatever Were walks through that door…” the words were particularly to himself, reaching up to pull his Navy beanie closer around his ears and adjust his hood. It was time to leave and let the joker dig his own grave.
  10. Kai Alexander Morgan


    "I'm glad you're still a good person in these shitty times." Most people seemed to delve into the black after the event, he’d forced himself in the other direction. He didn’t start as a good person… "I hope they fail too. Humanity has survived, and after everything, we're going to go back to this." “There are implications to this that are beyond what we can even imagine I’m sure. We like to stay under the radar for a reason.” He couldn’t remember if she knew, hell… did it really matter anymore anyway? Now the cat was out of the bag, and every infected thing this side of a zombie could be used to make money off of, or for. Would it come to the point no Weres would want to fight? Or would it go in the other direction? Narrow of the bright eyes was slight, pupils widening to thick black orbs at the scent of pure combustion. He’d heard the brute car from a bit out, but parking this near signaled it was supposed to be here. Scent was rolled over as the guy got out, the aggression clearly picked up. Hands slid into his pockets as he looked down from the monstrosity and toward the other that now occupied their sidewalk. No…. we are not taking registrations early….. Brow came down slightly. Just the idea that he was irritated enough to blather answers to non-questions at two complete strangers was telling. The interest was definitely there, and it didn’t bode well for Weres. No….. there are no early tours of the place…… No…… we don’t need to fill any jobs at the moment…. Yes….we are really opening next month….. No….. we currently don’t need any suppliers… "Here's a question you might not hear very often since you seem quite accustomed to those other ones. Why don't you go fuck yourself." He blinked, then looked to Pandora. Mouth opened slightly, then closed as he reached to rub the back of his neck before hands found his pockets again. That was as good of a response as any; his words would probably have been just as harsh. “No, you don’t have enough security,” his voice was calm, a gentle quiet as his eyes wandered over the place again. “Not nearly. For Weres. You’re going to get people killed.” But he wasn’t there to debate, he needed more time to decide what to do about it. It was definitely not a good idea to stay too long, especially now that his ire had a face. The cat would latch on, and once it latched, it would hunt. The last thing he needed was for his beast to break out on a rabid hunt to kill this meathead. Not yet anyway.
  11. Kai Alexander Morgan


    He couldn’t say it didn’t tempt him. To let loose completely with the intent to fight without abandon was always something that seemed attractive. Accepted for the brutes they were… not hiding, or running. He was different though. If he threw a punch, even once, there was no turning back. He’d come so far, and the thought of disappointing those that he’d counseled and supported all this time was the one thing that was holding him back. Did that mean that a shred of humanity still existed? That he was unwilling to go back? Or was he unwilling to let himself hurt others? All of the above? Weres were Weres. Problem was he had been trained before he was a Were... He would kill things. There were no bells in the world that could be rung to call him off. It was, just a bad idea. This whole thing was a terrible idea. An odd thing about his old habits, they never stopped ticking. Each rustle of movement in a radius around him was always a blip on his radar. Add to that mortal sense, Were ones on top of it made life sometimes unbearable. Especially scents and colors, they were enough to send him over the edge. Someone was coming close, someone the cat recognized "Mr. Morgan?" The vibrant green moved in her direction, never forgetting a face. Names were fleeting, especially after what had probably been several years. Hers though, had been unusual, and at a poignant point of his growing practice. "It's a bit late for a run. Everything alright? The last time we spoke you were running a self-defense class to teach people to fight against the supernatural. I really hope you aren't thinking about fighting in these barbaric games for small minded people." His eyes followed hers back up to the giant building. “Never too late for a run. Pandora, isn’t it, if I remember correctly. Please, call me Kai,” it was so easy for him to smile, to look cordial, to feel cordial. “I’m still helping people, moved closer to Manhattan, expanded my practice quite a bit.” Fingers went up to pull down the hood, adjusting his wool scarf and tucking it neatly before pulling the hood back up. Sigh was quiet. “Honestly, I hope the thing fails miserably. All the work I’ve done… somehow I know though it won’t. Probably will be wildly popular. Demystifying the dangerous. I’ve got my work cut out for me I think. What are you doing out on this incredibly fine evening?”
  12. Kai Alexander Morgan


    January 22, 2021 Sidewalk Outside Satyr Stadium, 9:30pm. And there it was. The most stupid fucking thing that could ever exist. Wind whipped its sharp breath once through the street, almost as if it had been reading his mind, rifling the edge of his dark hoodie enough to slip the hood from around his features. Gloves were pulled off, then the Navy beanie as the normally clear kelly green slid from the massive goliath he was looking up at. It was brazen, and arrogant, and apparently unstoppable. Bare fingers rifled through his hair a moment before pulling the skullcap back on and over his ears. He’d barely broken a sweat in the last five miles, cold gelling what little there was almost immediately on the back of his neck. Hood pulled back up, gloves back on, fingers interlocked to reach high above his head in a languid stretch before thoughts returned to continuing his run. Even the layers under his zip-up had done nothing to elicit more of a sweat. He didn’t know why he came… strike that. He knew exactly why. Hiding for so long. Forced to hide for so long. Hunted. His presence a death sentence for the woman he loved that was now out of his reach again if she ever mentioned what he was to those around her. Now, what the world hated and feared was on display for all to see. The blood, the infection… splattered all over the ring like it was a fucking joke. Money passing between hands to see who had the bigger fangs, and cheered in bars like a goddamn super bowl. Lips pursed, tongue running across a canine. Apparently it was okay now to pretend to be powerful and also be infected. He’d needed to put his eyes directly on the pompous monstrosity for it to be real. It blew the door wide open for every single fear the population had about the infected. For the Vanguard to have all the fodder they needed to continue its rabid hatred, for the those that came to him terrified and hunted to have more demons to run from. More suspicions and fear for some, less threat for others to think the whole Were infected community were fluffy toys to be bought and sold in swag stores. The question was, what would he do about it. Kneeling, he adjusted the laces on his right shoe, retying it before dusting off the knee of his black Adidas running pants. This was a fucking nightmare. Few, if any had the eyes he did… every weakness, strength and point of entry locked into his brain before turning them back to the sidewalk to decide which direction he wanted to go. A Colosseum worthy of an empire, a modern day Caesar. Two thousand years ago it took sixty men and twenty three stab wounds to take down a god. He only needed one well-placed bullet.
  13. Kai Alexander Morgan


  14. Kai Alexander Morgan

    Land of Confusion

    Breathing had all but halted, twitched top lip over unusually pronounced canines for a mere human threatened to sheer off the white weapons... He was aware but not aware, frozen yet kinetic and urging to move in an explosion of deadly muscles, laughter echoing inside a hollow cave, the scent of shampooed hair mixed with metal and greasemonkey. Pancakes. Bacon and piano music. Smell of soap on freshly cleaned skin. Gun oil. His cheek twitched. Deep green, full of pupil watched her jump up. She knew he was there. Mack always had good instincts, but Mack was not Mack. Mack didn't jump, or sleep on park benches. He couldn't untangle himself inside. Relief, rage, uncertainty, empathy. His foot stepped forward out of the light, chest finally allowed to take the deep breaths he needed after running so hard. Hand on his hip, the other swiping the Navy beanie off his head and scrubbing fingers up the back of shorn hair as he "innocently" just "arrived" from a run. It gave him hope that his instincts had maybe started to do the right thing, the normal thing instead of crush a skull on impulse. "Mack?" It was audible, but so far away in his head. Play it like... everything was normal. Normal not normal. Normal without... well what they had become. Something was desperately not right. Gone without a trace that even he couldn't track. Months... "Mack, is that you? When did you get back?" Innocent. Easy. Cordial. In his head he was screaming.
  15. Kai Alexander Morgan

    Land of Confusion

    Hooded green irises had been staring at the clock for almost fifteen minutes. What most would consider a regular object of methodical organization, he was going to smash into a thousand pieces in a few moments. The second hand had a lag that'd started around 4, late night back to back appointments kept him from fiddling with it to fix. Now, office assistant gone, gym closed, office closed, and every muscle was being held to a compressed quiver to prevent tearing across the room to destroy everything in his path to silence it. Depths of self control and rage were bottomless, the tangled fight leaving him still for sometimes hours. If nothing triggered action, he could take control. If agitated... something as little as a smell, or sound, all hell broke loose. Breathing. Slow. Sigh finally was pulled in, the balance of the internal battle finally tipped. Leather chair pushed back, hands on the dark wood desk as he stood. The battle was not over completely. The clock had to be silenced, and he would have to burn this off. Silent footsteps stopped at the shelf, finger delicately opening the glass face to stop the pendulum, closing it to the sound of gears ceasing to move the water torture that would have sent him into a rage two years ago. There had been a lull, when his world seemed to stabilize, now fully freight training again to an uncontrollable Were. The building was finally silent, the itch of agitation still sprinkling over his skin. Stepping into his personal bathroom, he changed quickly. Rugged runners, loose black running pants, a gray tee shirt peeled over his lithe torso. Black hoodie, fingerless gloves, black Navy skullcap. One key on a lanyard tucked into his hoodie. Hood up. Knife sheath on the inside of his forearm. Building locked, he bypassed his car for the alley and picked up pace. He had to run it out, which was next to impossible for a Were. Hours. Laps of the park spiralling inward, brain unconsciously tracking... irritation spiking, then resolving until a snap in his brain stopped the world on a dime. An entire demeanor snapped into mission mode, innocent runner instantly turning shadow and standing silently in the dark just out of the reach of the path light. Eyes on an occupied bench, brain folding over itself in scents it did and did not recognize.


  • RPG-D

  • tumblr_inline_n7nmp6HjIl1rfoxx3.png
  • Our Affiliates

    affiliatebannermain.gifBTM_aff.jpgThe Lost Nation 
    pernaff.png2i7yB.jpgRoleplay Evolution
    Sufficient Unto the Daybutton.png BOJUim.png
      4jx0bQV.gif Resolution



    Our Button Code