SYN, ichabod draven

[ichabod]

ICHABOD DRAVEN SYN !?
’ I caught a chill and it's still frozen on my skin’

FULL NAME Ichabod Draven Syn
NICKNAMES Syn, Ichy, Whore
AGE 26
GENDER Male
BIRTHDAY January 5th
SPECIES Human
ALLIANCE Neutral.
SEXUALITY Bi-Sexual.

PLAY-BY Synyster Gates
EYES Brown, oval shaped eyes.
HAIR A dark brown that looks almost black in most lighting Ichabod usually has his hair in some sort of way that looks like he stuck his finger in a socket. If it doesn’t appear this way he’s either decided to leave it flat, or is growing it out. The longest it’s ever been was just a touch past his shoulders though he prefers his ‘electrocuted look’ these days.
BODY TYPE Slim, athletic etc.
HEIGHT Five foot ten.
WEIGHT 180 pounds.
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES Ichabod is known for his tattoos, the bone structure of his face, and his nose ring.
STYLE Ichabod usually dresses like the guy who goes to the dingy bars and hangs around with the rougher crowd. Not one to dress formally he prefers to ripped shirts without sleeves, anything with skulls and jeans that have holes in the knees. From time to time he wears a bit of eyeliner, though it was more prominent in his younger years and has since grown out of the ‘face paint’ aspect of makeup. He truly dresses the role of rock star, the person who doesn’t give a shit what they look like when they go out in public.

LIKES

• Sex
  
• Heavy Music
  
• Playing Guitar
  
• Performing
  
• Freedom
  
• Drug Use
  
• Alcohol
  
• Skulls
  
• Warm Weather
  
• Getting Tattooed
  

DISLIKES

• Liars
  
• Cheats
  
• Prudes
  
• People telling him what to do
  
• Police
  
• Bright Colors
  
• Getting Sunburnt
  
• Having money stolen
  
• Paparazzi
  
• Control freaks
  

STRENGTHS

• Artistic
  
• Passionate
  
• Determined
  
• Hard Working
  

WEAKNESSES

• Perfectionist
  
• Worrisome
  
• Anxious
  
• Self-centered
  

HABITS

• Getting into trouble.
  
• Going out to parties, bars, and clubs.
  
• Hiding his feelings with substances.
  

FEARS

• Heights
  
• Dying alone
  
• Staying a cliché
  

DESIRES

• To cement himself in rock n roll history
  

SECRETS

• Constantly feels as though he’s not good enough for the success he’s achieved.
  

OVERALL
There are two faces to this man, something that many might assume because of his role in a band but other’s may presume it just to be his regular self. There is the more charismatic and social of the personas that walks about in Ichabod’s flesh, though they are one in the same and he is of sound mind he often wears this mask in public. He’s the party guy, the one who won’t refuse another drink and has been known to dabble into the drugs at the back of a club. When he’s wearing this face he has a difficult time telling people no, unless it is something that he is truly uncomfortable with. For the most part, when out in public Ichabod is looking to please others or have a good time.

Then there’s the real face behind all of that smiling and ruffled hair. In truth Ichabod is a bit of an introvert and although he knows many people and parties with vast quantities, he trusts few. He prefers to sit back on the couch and read a book or listen to music, write poetry. Things that people may not entirely expect out of him. He’s a romantic and likes to sit on the couch to watch a movie, cuddle, go out to dinner and buy things for the one he cares about. What’s happened over time is that he’s gotten so consumed in the face he puts on for the public that it has slowly started to pollute him, and he is rarely what he once was before. He’s also far less happy despite his success.

An addict to many things, Ichabod’s personality varies depending on his present mood and those he’s around. Nobody sees him without his mask any longer, save his parents, but even then they expect that fame and fortune has corrupted their son. He over drinks, is now a frequent user of cocaine and marijuana and whispers have circulated that he just might be addicted to sex. Excess is his life presently and he’s already been in the hospital for his heart having stopped on him twice, it’s a miracle that he’s still around.

MOTHER Marigold, Julia, Syn.
FATHER John, Howard, Syn.
SIBLINGS N/A
OTHER PERSONS OF IMPORTANCE Band Mates (4).
ETHNICITY Italian/British
WEALTH STATUS Rich
OVERALL
Born and raised in Canada, Ichabod grew up in a very small town community. It was a small mining town away from all the big cities, more up north than anything where the focus was on hockey and sports rather than on how well you could carry a tune or if you could play guitar decently. Growing up he was never very good at sports, and though he’s pretty beefy now grew up the lanky little bastard that was always picked last for sporting events and was usually the runt hit in the face during dodge ball. He made some friends, but often people just left him disappointed, he discovered this was especially true in his high school years when those he’d trusted or confided into about issues with his struggles with depression became known to the entire school and he was dubbed the school ‘emo’.

That incident happened when he was a senior in high school, bleach blonde hair and without any ink. He was more physically fit at this point but still the taunting arose, and as soon as he was accepted into a college for the arts he was off, away from the hillbillies and the rednecks that wanted nothing more than to beat his ass into the ground for being what he was. It didn’t kill him though, to know that his town didn’t like him, because he quite frankly had never liked it. There was no love on either end, and he fell in love with a city called Toronto, where he could finally be himself. Over the course of his studying he and a group of friends made a band together, thinking that it’d be a nice gig on the side to help pay for some of their college education while giving them the means to practice what they were being taught. Little did they know how far it was going to take off.

The group was best described as an easy on the ears heavy metal band with some progressive metal when Ichabod took the microphone. Without really even trying to land a record deal they had been opening for a band that was doing a show for a few of Canada and America’s top label’s, unbeknownst to them as the manager for the other band had set it up. To say they obliterated the other band was an understatement, and they had been the opening act! Contracts were being thrown around and just a few months after graduating from college Ichabod was already in the studio recording their first album. That was four years ago, and since then the band has put out another record and gone on two world tours. From starving on their small budget as college students to owning lavish homes has been a complete change to the group, and after some planning and careful thinking the entire band had decided to move to the United States of America, opting for Los Angeles, being their record company is situated there.

The success of the band took off like wildfire and after a couple world tours and putting out a few records Ichabod decided to buy a place in Manuka. The band had toured here before and so he thought it would be pretty fitting to live in the area, it was just so beautiful.

Since then he’s been living the life of the rich and famous. People know his face from the music videos they see on TV or when they pass by the local music store and see his custom guitars hanging on the wall with a billboard of him beside it, or even just from album covers. He’s heavily involved in the local party scene and it’s starting to worry his family members, who are all the way back in Canada still. His band members don’t seem too worried though, and as much as he may love them, they don’t see each other often unless it’s to write another album, jam, practice for an upcoming tour, or if they’re touring. There’s something about being on the road with your four best friends for what was probably three years of your life that hey, it was a good time, but you need a break once in a while.

Day to day life after tour for Ichabod consists of him often staying home and going on binges or going out to parties, looking for people to fool around with, and getting high. Post-tour depression is something he’s never learnt how to deal with, and after touring for so long and feeling like life is one constant party he doesn’t know how to stop.

NAME/ALIAS trashed
AGE 19
TIME ZONE EST.
HOW YOU FOUND US Your head admin! ;D
OTHER CHARACTERS N/A
RP SAMPLE

Stock had been away from Halloween Town for an entire week. He’d up and left, but in a sense he’d said his good-byes. Leaving the general manager in charge of The Devil’s Lair Stock had packed himself up a duffle bag and headed on out of town, for a few different reasons. The first was that he couldn’t live to be in a town with the woman he adored and loved when she was shunning him, the second was to avoid any trouble that might ensure from the one letter he’d decided to write to the Body Snatcher’s leader, Jax. Having been the right hand of the organization Stock had done what he had to do with a heavy heart, resigning so to speak from the gang and explaining that he simply could not go about being a part of the organization any longer. Not that Jax would likely understand, and he also managed to send Spark and BJ a voicemail each, explaining that he knew they wouldn’t understand why he’d done what he’d done, but he simply had to.

He’d gone off, away from everything in the middle of the night and rather than explore the other holiday realms like he so often wished to do he had hopped into a crypt and transported himself to the mortal realm. There he’d had to do some quick thinking in order to hide his tail and horns, but most people didn’t really bother to ask. He was just some loser with fake devil horns on his head and a mechanical tail, big whoop. Unsure if he was going to find somewhere to settle into Stock had found himself a tattoo shop and had rather than his original plan of burning the gangs logo off his body, gotten it changed to a different piece that flowed with his sleeves of tattoos.

From there he’d travelled some more, but the longer he seemed to stay away the more his heart seemed to realize it belonged in Halloween Town. As much as he wanted to stay away because of the hurt he knew he’d caused so many people there, his heart ached for the female Skellington twin and the young woman he’d dated for nearly two years. She had never asked him to pick a side, and in the end she had always thought he would go running to Jax. As much hell may rain down on him for his decision, even if it was death, Stock couldn’t live knowing that the one person who had helped him through so many struggles and tribulations through their time together (without her knowing given the lack of communication in their relationship) unknowingly would ever think that he’d pick a bunch of men out to raise a little hell over her made him feel dirty, and low.

Gang life was something he’d gotten into because he’d needed self-confidence, he’d needed a family. All was well for a while, until he finally got to interact with Dollie and emotions started to develop. He loved her with every fiber of his being and it hadn’t been long before the pair had broken up that Stock realized he wanted to have a family with her, wanted to be her world and wake up to her beautiful face every morning. Stock hadn’t stuck around to see how people had reacted, but even if his best friends now hated him and his former boss wanted him dead Stock had somehow, in the midst of all his walking found himself at the entrance to Halloween Town once more.

He hadn’t meant to come back, but his subconscious had led him there, in the midst of all his thinking. He’d lost a bit of weight from lack of food over the course of his weeklong trip, not that he’d had much of an appetite ever since Dollie had sent him that text message. His feet took him through the streets, glancing about and wondering if his bar was still standing and if he had a home to go back to or if someone had out of vengeance burned it to the ground or trashed them. Still his feet moved past where he would turn for his bar or where his residence was, and he found himself at the door of a familiar face. He seemed to stare at the door for a long minute, wondering if it was wise to knock. What if she’d given up all hope? What if she didn’t care anymore?

Something told Stock that he had to see her, that he hadn’t come back to look at a door and walk away. He knocked three firm hard knocks on the door, waiting for a response from behind it. There was an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, like he’d just eaten something that hadn’t been prepared properly (or if you’d like to be more dainty it felt like he had butterflies in his stomach) yet he didn’t budge. Stock simply had to see her.

[JURATE]

ACCEPTED!
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