Captain's Log - 9/7/2009
Pandora's box was not filled with candy.

Captain's Log - 9/7/2009
Pandora's box was not filled with candy.

Captain's Log - 9/7/2009
Pandora's box was not filled with candy.

Phew, wall of text inc... soz.


Name: Arkamund Van Holt
Species: Human
Sub-species: N/A
Gender: Male
Age: 33


Description: Ugly and that’s putting it lightly, one could say it would’ve been merciful if he had just died. Arkamund was never much of a looker but when an explosive took out most of his unit, he doesn’t stand a chance in the handsome department. He stands just short of 6’ with a muscular build.
Arkamund’s face is mixture of scars and burns, his once set of green eyes are now mismatched pair as one has clouded over leaving him somewhat short sighted in one eye. Arkamund’s body is covered in what can only be described as angry burn scars, constantly looking as if they are infected and inflamed, while his torso could’ve been a relative to ravine... several in fact, evidence to how serious the explosive was. His back is ‘painted’ with several bullet and knife scars most of them are recent because of his new occupation. Yet amazingly he has retained all his limbs... though one can only assume it’s because Arkamund is a joke only the universe understands.
He has only recently allowed his black hair to grow back, so it sadly doesn’t hide the surgical scars.

There are times when Arkamund seems to be staring far off in the distance, unresponsive to the world around him. His mismatched eyes open wide, likely replaying the nightmares he witnessed during the war in his mind, there are times when his eyes are tearful barely holding back the emotion he so desperately wants to feel. And then there are times when his physic is hunched and fully alert, one could easily say that Arkamund is a half-glass full while being half-glass empty kind of man. One half lies in reality the other trapped in his own nightmares and together they make a man that is constantly on edge.


Clothing/Weapons: Arkamund keeps as much of his skin covered, more so for his employer’s sake than his own. Wearing stained jeans, dark colored long sleeved shirts, boots, sunglasses (during the day) and black gloves. However he doesn’t wear a mask as it causes him to panic thinking someone is trying to smother him so unfortunately customers get to look at his ‘pretty’ mug.

This does work to his advantage however as it gives him an intensely intimidating look.
Arkamund wields a large double barrelled shotgun (over-under design), normally it fires bean-bag filled cartages but he does carry solid slug rounds for emergencies... In most cases Arkamund prefers hitting someone with his fists or if he get carried away with the shotgun itself.
Other than that, it’s not advised to give him a lethal weapon.

Goal: To help Melanthe live a normal life, as best as he can. There is are also times he mentions he wishes to return.. but to what?
Occupation: Body guard/ Bouncer And legally the surrogate father of Melanthe.

Personality: Arkamund is generally a friendly fellow for his job... though few know since most don’t willingly speak to the ugly shell-of-a-man. At best you can say he’s like a gentle giant –the kind that lost his marbles- at worst he’d be described as unstable.
There are complex sides to Arkamund, there is the side that’s clearly a broken man as he is mostly despondent and unaware of the true situation (more on that shortly). There is the friendly and loyal man who helps and gently comforts those in need. And then there is the side of the soldier who is lost in a war already lost, simply chasing ghosts and shadows that only exist in the mind of a delusional man.

So caught up in his shattered outlook of the world, Arkamund isn’t fully aware of the situation the world is in any more, he isn’t aware he’s working for a brothel or the ‘goods’ the owners trade in. He’s friendly to both patron and hybrid, generally shrugging off any possible insults they might throw at him as oddly worded compliments.
However extreme violence to a hybrid will lead to a memory trigger, Arkamund doesn’t like it when a ‘patron’ physically abuses a hybrid in front of him and few make it out without being worse for wear.

He is fiercely protective of his adopted daughter; Melanthe. If anything happens to her and he finds out, some say not even hell can compare to what he plans to do to the unlucky man.
To his daughter he tries to be as good as a father he can be. He doesn't want to ruin the trust he has made with her, cherishing it beyond anything he will describe.
Mel is one of the few people that have begun to understand the complexities to Arkamund and the nightmares he suffers. Yet he'll put all his pain aside to help Melanthe get over her own nightmares, comforting her when she needs it.

Arkamund is a fairly heavy smoker and fairly tolerant to alcohol, they generally allow him to calm down and take in the daily events to a certain degree. Ark also plays the piano, something his doctor advised to do as an activity to avoid depression as well help regain proper movement of his fingers.

History: They say I was one of them unlucky ones. You know born completely without luck, kicked in the balls even before I was out of the womb... yeah that’s one of my favourite ways of describing my beginning... has a nice ring to it! Anyway Ma and Pa did something with them doctors... can’t remember exactly, haha, funny how these things slip my mind at times isn’t it?
Anyway they weren’t too special my friends tell me, I lived like the others, went to school, made friends, played games I think, lots of them! They give me names, shame I can’t remember them though but then some of them didn’t always sound so nice.

When I finished school I tried to work like normal folk but then them military folk needed men, good and honest folk who were loyal. That’d be me! That’s what I told me’self and that’s what I did, the sarge taught me how to fight, showed me how to teach the bad guys their lesson, yeah, that’s how I got to work here. Whoops getting ahead of me’self don’t let me do that. So sarge taught me how to aim, to consider how far they are, if they are running, what type of weapon I’m using and what to do if they are my enemy. I won’t feel anything when I pull the trigger, only the recoil is what I’m meant to feel. To take pride as they fall and into the open arms of ultimate judgement. And how to make sure he doesn’t go there alone after all wouldn’t it be a shame if he had to face justice by himself? I got to celebrate my 24th birthday with the sarge and my new friends but then that war started.
We got sent to help defend wonderful looking cities, the people were happy we did... although they didn’t seem too please about my face but then it’s the best joke around they say. Maybe they didn’t get the joke?
Haha, you know it’s funny, my friends and I we didn’t get to see much fighting at first but then one day we were walking along the trees and the world was covering in fire suddenly. I remember my friends screaming for a while, they were covered in blood...most of them died in front of me before I could even try to save them, bleeding out because the cowardly enemy had hid with the common folk, using them as shields. Sarge lost an arm, I remembering him cursing as I dragged him to safety... couldn’t save the others...too late for them... too late...

They then tell me I was like a hero, brave and strong, saved the common folk. Killed the enemy. I don’t remember... I don’t want to... All I felt was the recoil of my gun through my shoulder, they tell me I looked like I had gone through hell... Sarge was in tears... that’s not right...not right at all. All I felt was the recoil... even when I started using my fists, all I remember was the feeling of the rifle’s recoil.
So much blood, so many tears. I didn’t cry, couldn’t after all my friends would’ve laughed. But funny enough they didn’t... Nah they wouldn’t have laughed I guess if I did but still I missed my chance to cry. Sarge wasn’t the same after that. Honestly I don’t remember that much during the day, I dream though... I think, can’t ever recall them properly. The words come out wrong.. More detached from them I suppose, not the words, the feelings of loss. Shame ain’t it.
I got to sleep in one of the nice beds my Pa and Ma worked with, was covered in bandages, haha, reminds me of the movies at times when I look back. They told me it was a miracle I lived through the blood loss, burns and the amount of shrapnel they took out from me. Hehe, even my head got lucky they tell me! I must’ve been really lucky I guess...

So the war was over, needed a new job after the doctors let me finally leave their hospital. I got bored, had 5 birthdays there. Almost 6 in fact. Took my gear and medals... not much I suppose but better than nothing. Got a job eventually at a joint.. The folk there were odd, got funny eyes and skin, sometimes tails even! But the boss said to keep an eye out on them, make sure they didn’t run or get hurt. The girls were afraid of me, don’t blame them they gave me strange looks. The ‘patrons’ loved them, had fun with the girls they tell me. But then Ms. Mira got knocked down the stairs, I remember everyone was laughing so I was about to help her up, cheer her up! One of the ‘patrons’ came down and started hitting her... I place myself between them, it wasn’t right sure she was different but be damned if they harm a little flower in front of me. He laughed and mocked me for being weak, having a soft-spot. Wasn’t too focused on him at the time, Mira was looking sad... tears swelling from pain and fright. The bastard took a cheap shot at my ribs, thinking it would make me move. But the boss said to protect the girls and keep them from running... So I finally responded by breaking the idiot’s legs, right at the knee at first, then at the pelvis, he screamed and asked why... Didn’t bother answered with words... there wasn’t much left of the bastard’s face left when I was finished.
The boss wasn’t too pleased at first but he got over it when he learned ‘the goods got damaged’ so he kicked the guy out. I got Ms. Mira a drink, my treat in fact! Boss looked funny at first but let Mira recover, she wasn’t looking too good, she kept holding me, crying... Don’t know why... Can’t connect to it. It was quite for a while but eventually another ‘patron’ got carried away. Brought a gun and shot some of the folk, only just in for me shift. Saw the other guard and several patron’s down on the ground. He waved the gun around the girls telling them they were his, but they weren’t they were the boss’.
Didn’t bother too much with the man, three hits. I counted the punches I threw. I checked up on the sod. Still hasn’t woken up... probably never will...
I got use to working as guard, kinda enjoyed it. Simple life, good pay, the people were nice to me. Didn't understand why but oh well.

Things got interesting after a couple months of work, had a busy day breaking up a bar fight and was on the way home to me apartment. Josh and Gallen started talking to me, whispering how they envied the fact they died and I, the ugliest bastard they knew, got to live. Needed to clear my head. Too many voices, too many people around me and my gun... wasn't safe during that night. So I took aside route to listen to them complain.
I hear something, maybe it was because I was so edgy or something of the sort but I heard crying, I heard thing...that made my heart turn cold and my insides knot up. I walked with me shotgun ready and found something I can't ever forget.
A little angel face down on the cold and dirty floor, her cloths in tatters and completely bruised up. One bastard had his boot on her head pinning her down while another was driving his heel into the poor girl's side. The last guy was planning something horrid... Without feeling anything I brought up my gun and felt the recoil, triggered both shots at once and hit one bastard in the head with both shots, he wasn't dead... not yet.

The other two began shouting, asking me what I was doing... wasn't really listening. I saw the girl moaning in pain. He fired again and again, the recoil went into his shoulder each time until his gun needed to be reloaded.
Placing four of his emergency slugs into the gun, Ark could see one bastard try to get up to charge me. I aimed and felt the recoil, hit the fucker in the head. Turned it into a fountain. The first guy I hit got up, dizzy and bleeding from his ears and nose. Don't know if he was planning on running, didn't care. Blew off his leg by mistake, gun jammed as well. Had to use my hands.
Last guy, damn was he scared, bet he already browned himself due to my handy work. I let him hit me, let him try to think he could win. Shit, he didn't really make good on the chance. Don't think they were able to identify him by face. As a whole they made a great puddle. A big red one.

Turn my attention to the little angel finally, I realized I had frightened her. But I knew I did the right thing... right? Had to pick her up, so fragile, so hurt... it wasn't right.. it just wasn't right. The doctors turned away, I couldn't believe them... The girl was losing strength fast. Vilxes was with me then, told me to bring her back home. Vilxes reminded me that he taught us how to apply first aid, Ma and Pa as well. Bless their souls I had forgotten in my panic. Got her home, had to get her red covered cloths off, bruises every where... feathers pulled out at places...One the one hand I was angry that I let them off easy... but I was later thankful I got to her in time. Haha, man I didn't realize how hard it is to fix someone when your hands are swelling, need to remember that just in case ya know. Vilxes and me parents slowly reminded me what to do, apply the right amount of herbs, medical creams and did a lot of praying... got to be honest it had been awhile since I last did that... me and... well that's for another time.
Had to ask the boss for an extended leave, asked why and told him. He laughed, said he'd take the girl out of me hands. Told him no, he offered money. I said no again, he asked why I cared so much. Told him why should he care what a brain damaged soldier wanted to do with a damaged girl. The boss laughed but didn't say much after that. He let me have my time, as long as I needed in fact. Was very nice of him! I gave him many, many, many thanks.
Course the next problem was feeding the poor thing, figured porridge would help. Had to ground it and carefully feed her while she slept, such a small thing in my ugly hands...

The rest was history... well interesting history and filled with things I haven't felt since the war. The rest I'm keeping to me self, not right to repeat the...ummm... hard times and awkward times. But I don't regret it. Not ever, Mel's me world now. I won't let anything happen to my angel, my beloved daughter....

Ah well too bad the boss died a couple weeks ago. Now I need to find another joint. Wonder if anyone is looking for a guard?


Themes: His mind slipping
The soldier without a cause
The broken man and his little angel