Ilani Moonblood

[ILANI MOONBLOOD]

ILANI SUNSHINE MOONBLOOD

“Baby take a seat, eyes on me, this is my show
Your one and only pleasure
All decked in lace and leather
Fantasy, courtesy... on me, baby let's go
Watch me apply the pressure
All decked in lace and leather”

YES I'M BACK IN BLACK;;

STYLE: Non Canon
NAME: Ilani Moonblood
DOB: July 11th, 1981
GENDER: Female
SPECIES: Human
SUB:Psycnic
POWER/ABILITY: Ilani can see, hear and talk to the unhappy dead, much to her annoyance. And, if prodded or paid enough, she can even go Exorcist and let the un-dearly departed talk to those looking for answers.

SEND ME AN ANGEL;;

FACE CLAIM: Olga Kurylenko
HEIGHT: 5’6”
WEIGHT: ”Don’t make me smack you.”
SKIN: Slightly golden
HAIR: Depends on her mood. Normally, it’s earlobe-length black and sporting various color streaks and beads. The only constant is the tattered eagle feather that’s always present over her left ear.
EYES: She likes to describe them as the color of ‘melted chocolate.’ Aka, light brown, with speckles of gold mixed in around the edges.
BODY: Deceptively slender and a bit on the small side…though, her mouth more than makes up for her lack of muscles.
ATTRIBUTES: She’s not exactly a fan of being ignored, so it seems that she’s always out to grab everyone’s attention. She’s got a multitude of tattoos, including the small dragon on her left cheekbone. There are also a few piercings around her ears, lower lip, belly button...and the rumor of some others lower down.
CLOTHES: Even though she’s not living in the diverse culture of New York City, Ilani still manages to maintain a very…unorthodox style. A fan of the bikers who breeze in and out of her bar, she is almost always seen with an array of leather; jackets, boots, bracelets and, sometimes, chokers, all seemingly adorned with the same logo: ‘The Beijing Butcher.’ She’s also almost always caught wearing a pair of skull-and-crossbones heeled boots, and has more piercings than any good girl should.
ACCESSORIES: Other than the rebellious garb, loud mouth and eagle feather? Just a baseball bat that she’s not afraid of using, and a cutting wit.

GENERAL APPEARANCE: If there were any that could be immediately pointed out as being way too loud, and way too unconscious to society’s norms, it would be Ilani Moonblood. She can always be found wearing leather and various forms of body art/piercings, but other than the obvious garb, her hatred of everything mainstream can also be found in the way she carries herself. There will always be a slight tenseness to her shoulders, as if she’s constantly waiting for an attack, causing her to strike before asking questions. And, when she’s having a particularly bad day, she likes to wear a very unhappy scowl on her face, which warns the casual greeter to back the –BEEP- off.

ON A SEA OF MOVING EMOTIONS;;

GENERAL PERSONALITY: How could one describe the wind? Or, hell, forget the wind; how can one describe a hurricane gale that sweeps in and destroys everything that isn’t lucky enough to be tied down? Loud, obnoxious, rowdy and not in the least bit shy, Ilani is the epitome of your average uncouth party girl.

Though, if one wanted to find their hair still attached to their head, and/or their balls right where they left them that morning, one would not, EVER, call her a ‘party girl.’

Proud of her Native American heritage- to an extent- and of her natural street smarts, she is a completely independent woman, trying to make her way in the 21st century in the only way that she knows how:
Making friends and selling booze.

At the same time, however, if one were to catch her on an ‘off’ day, Ilani can be very serious and down to earth. She’s fiercely protective of her loved ones, wouldn’t blink an eye at breaking the law- or a leg or two- to help out a friend, and has a strange, undying hatred for all things gang-related.


LIKES:

• Chocolate
  
• Her bar
  
• Rough’n’Rowdy men
  
• Being the center of attention
  
• Singing
  
• Fast cars and even faster motorcycles
  

DISLIKES:

• Her ‘gifts’
  
• Gangs
  
• Long sleeved shirts
  
• Ignorant people
  
• Wife beaters
  
• The color brown
  

STRENGTHS:

• Is as protective as a mother bear
  
• Doesn’t believe in lying
  
• Isn’t easily surprised
  

WEAKNESSES:

• Bad boys
  
• Cigarettes
  
• Motorcycles
  

FEARS:

• Losing anymore of her family (though she can’t stand them on a good day)
  
• Death
  
• Cock roaches
  

DREAMS:

• Being seen as ‘normal’
  
• Being able to beat up on Goth wanna-be’s and NOT get arrested
  
• Being able to settle down, without her family’s interference
  

BIGGEST SECRET: Though she loves to pretend otherwise, Ilani Moonblood has the very strange ability to talk to, see and hear the dead. She also has a certain portion of her basement covered in strange symbols, with a bed in the middle of a chalk-lined circle that she claims is her ‘safety zone.’

I'M ON THE HIGHWAY TO HELL;;

HISTORY: Born to the Cheyenne-Arapaho Tribe of Oklahoma, Ilani’s mother was raised amongst the old myths and legends of her father’s people. Being the latest in a long line of powerful women in the tribe, she was a kind of ‘Shaman-in-Training,’ second only to the current spirit-healer.
And, according to Ilani, was quite the little flirt, when she wasn’t talking to the spirits and helping those who had crossed over find eternal rest. How the hell else could the small, quite woman she remembered calling ‘Mama’ have attracted her bear of a father?

Seemingly dragged out to the reservation by his anthropologist father, Jimmy Buchanon was a rebel and a hothead, with a temper the size of Texas. But when he met little Running Wolf, he seemed to lose a bit of his steam, and vowed to make her his. After a heated romance that was looked down on by both sets of parents, Jimmy and Running Wolf, later converted to ‘Mary,’ eloped and escaped the seemingly oppressive arms of their elders, in favor of the big, wide world.
Aka New York City, where Jimmy planned on becoming the next Jimmy Hendrix. Not exactly the most humble dream, but his nonetheless.

…It was safe to say that a ratty apartment in Brooklyn and three jobs was what reality offered, and they took.

After trying- and failing- to have music support his family, now consisting of Running Wolf, Ilani and her two older brothers, Storm and Darien, Jimmy gave up running a band in favor of running something a bit less frustrating, and a bit more fun:
His own gang, known amongst native Brooklyn-ers as ‘The Butchers’.

The Butchers did not discriminate when it came to members; it accepted anyone with enough balls to perform any and all acts that their leader demanded, and not enough brains to figure out that, at the first sign of trouble, they’d be left in a prison cell to rot. Specializing in drug running, petty theft, kidnapping and, sometimes, a bit of murder every now and again, The Butchers quickly earned the title of ‘one of the worst gangs to ever surface in the Brooklyn/Queens area.’
A title that her father reveled in, as far as she could tell.

Growing up amongst the tough, streetwise men that her father recruited, Ilani naturally fell into the dark, dangerous underground that the city harbored. She was stealing food for the table at seven, was helping her brothers mug unsuspecting couples in the parks at age ten, and assisted with a few inter-gang wars by the time she was in high school. Respected and feared for her ‘Daughter of THE Butcher’ status, she went through life thinking nothing of her situation, and even finding pleasure in the danger.

That is, until she met her ‘spirit guide’, as her mother called it; an eternally twenty year old man-boy who went by the name of ‘Cash,’ and nothing else.
Oh, how she missed those old, seemingly happy days.

Just as all the women of her mother’s line, Ilani had been gifted with the revered ability to see, hear, speak to and help the dearly departed in finding their place in whatever waited after life. And as such, it was her duty to assist the damned spirits in any way that she could, in order to assure they got where they needed to be.

…Well, that was the plan. But Ilani, as it’s well known, was not one to sticking with plans.

After having the crap scared out of her by Cash’s sudden appearance in the girl’s bathroom- an appearance that none of the other girls could see, confirming their suspicions that the local bad boy’s little girl had one or two screws loose- screaming about being blind, Ilani spent the rest of her high school days trying to avoid the ghosts and angry spirits who intended on using her to achieve their afterlife. After a time, she learned little hints to who was dead and who wasn’t, and tried very hard to ignore them, while still having fun with the gang.

Then her eldest brother, her protector and her best friend, Storm, got himself killed in a drive by shooting by the brother of a girl that he and some of the other members- her father included- had brutalized and killed a month earlier.
Talk about a five o’clock wake up call.

After the burial, it didn’t take long for Running Wolf, mourning the loss of her beautiful son and the love that she’d thought she’d found on the Oklahoma reservation, to succumb to death herself. And, after putting the two people she loved the most underground, it didn’t take Ilani long to hate her father, hate the Butchers and gangs in general, and hate the current life she lived. So, with a tenacity that shocked the hell out of her classmates and old friends, she graduated high school with a passing GPA, moved out of the house, went to night school while working as a bartender at a small nightclub, and got a degree in business management, all the while abandoning her promise to ignore the dearly departed, helping only those she deemed 'help-able'.

Not wanting to have anything to do with her family, her friends in the gang, or old boyfriends who came sniffing at her door when they smelled greenbacks, she packed up her things and moved out to Kansas- talk about a culture shock, there- opening her own bar, where she could control the world, the atmosphere, and earn her own reputation away from the disgusting face of her father.

And, in the end, Kansas is where she chose to open up the now notorious ‘The Pit,’ catering to the rough and rowdy with one single warning tacked up on a piece of old driftwood above the door:
’Make trouble, get burned.’

THERE'S A BAD MOON RISING;;

OTHER: Naaah. ^^

WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE;;

RP SAMPLE: (From another roleplay, with Kentpoint Detective Kevin Slame)

“FUCK YOU, MAN.”

Just the three little words that every guy wanted to hear on his night off, right? And, coming from a junked out kid in pants that were just about to fall down to his ankles, everything was ten times worse.

Ah, he sure did love helping out a neighbor- a Mrs. Deborah McLin, whose son he was currently frog marching away from a particularly graffitied alleyway- in need. All he had to frikken say was that he’d better get a week’s worth of thank-you muffins out of this one.

Little Bobby McLin, one of Kentpoint’s many cokeheads, was the spitting image of an everyday drug abuser. He had the red rimmed eyes, the beaded pupils, heavy breathing and stale smelling body. And if that stain on the back of his shorts was anything but dirt, he was gonna get a size 7 and a half shoe up his craggy ass.

“Just shut the hell up and keep walking, Bobby,” Came a very irritated growl. It took all of his self control, but he managed not to beat the shit out of the scarecrow of a kid. “Your mother is very upset that you haven’t gone to rehab like you promised, Bobby. And when Mama McLin is upset, she likes to blast Barry Manilow. Did you know that, Bobby? And since I live right below her, all I can hear is fucking. Barry. Manilow. So just shut the hell up before I take you into that building there and shove your head into the john ‘til you work out that damn crank.”

And the Lieutenant thought that he needed to go to those ‘empathy seminars.’ Ha. He knew exactly how to deal with an unruly kid; no problem. Call him unsurprised when little Bobby suddenly went limp against him and walked quite calmly toward the squad car waiting at the end of the street.

Oh, thank you Jesus. Deposit one McLin, save himself from listening to ‘Bandstand Boogie’ one more freaking time, and maybe have a semi-relaxing night without some kind of earth shattering crisis. Giving the kid a shove toward the uniform glaring at him from the curb- that’ll teach Nick from thinking he could beat him at Hold ‘Em when a favor’s at stake- he smiled wolfishly and waved as the car sped off.


ALIAS: Jay
OTHER ACCOUNTS: Christopher Savage
RP EXPERIENCE: A long, long time. (9 years)

(C)2010 Made by Sam of Supernatural: Alter Destiny! Do not steal!

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