Giles Ashley Silvanus

[panic]

GILES ASHLEY SILVANUS


Free-spirited, Hedonist, Lecherous

BACK TO BASICS ' '

Full Name: Giles Ashley Silvanus (The temptation to call him Peter killed me )
Significance of Name:
I apologize in advance if I get these wrong - I am not much of a linguist and I have a bad habit of trusting anything the internet says.

Giles - "Young goat" in Latin, Pan was famously a satyr and according to some stories was, quite literally half goat, yeah that must have been one hell of a night.
Ashley - old English meaning a "clearing of ash trees" which kind of fits into the whole god of forests and woodlands thing.
Silvanus - derived from the Latin word Silva both of which mean "of the forest/woods" (I think)
Nickname: He only ever answers to Ash
Age: 17
Gender: male
Orientation: Predominantly heterosexual but give him enough alcohol combined with dim lighting and he's full on pan-sexual
Grade: Sophomore (held back a year)
Celeb you're using: Dougie Lee Poynter
Deity: Pan - Greek
Title of your deity: God of Woodlands, Wild Animals, Hunting, Flocks, Shepherds, Rustic Music and Carnal Desire

STRIKE A POSE ' '

Physical Appearance:

For as long as Ash can remember he has always felt like some part of him was missing. When he realised it was the furry hindquarters of a goat; feeling incomplete no longer felt like such a bad thing.


It is highly unlikely that you will ever catch Ash without a pair of giant head phones on or at least hanging cocked and ready around his neck. And if not then the odds are there’s a pair of ear phones secreted in his shirt collar or somewhere on his person. He would sooner forget to leave the house without his head than without any music. Ash is largely oblivious when it comes to what styles are “hip and happening” he simply goes with what feels comfortable and judging by the way fashions come and go he figures the odds are that eventually his style will be in, not that he particularly cares. He favours cut off jeans and cargo pants that have been comfortably beaten into submission over time and whichever shirt or hoodie is close at hand when he needs it. Ash hardly ever dresses for any occasion; the clothes you’ll find him lounging about on a Sunday in are the same you’ll find him in at a funeral or high end club. In essence he’s pretty much always a picture of last minute half hearted grooming. But on the rare occasions that he puts his mind to it and makes the effort he cleans up very well.

To put it bluntly Ash isn’t particularly big and intimidating as far as reincarnated gods go, his build is rather athletic but he is far from being all rippling muscle. But what he lacks in sheer size and bad-assery he does make up for in speed, balance and plain sure footedness. Even when he’s simply walking Ash seems almost as if he’s dancing to a beat no one can hear but himself. But at the same time he is a walking contradiction, half the time he moves with the suppressed energy of a toddler on a strict diet of cocaine frosted cornflakes and the other half he seems almost lethargic and chilled – he doesn’t seem to have much of a middle speed. Something about his lazy grin that almost always reaches his laughing earthy green eyes tends to put people at ease, he likes to think that he gives off a good vibe but really its more down to the fact that there isn’t a threatening bone in his body.

He has a very bad habit of laughing either at inappropriate moments, in the middle of a sentence, completely out of the blue or a few beats later than everyone else. This kid can find something amusing in even the worst situations. On the other hand if a conversation is boring him you will definitely know about.

LET'S GET TO KNOW YOU BETTER ' '

Personality Description:

Ash is the epitome of a hedonist; his life revolves around the pursuit of pleasure and thrills, particularly those of the flesh. But, honestly, what more can you expect from the reincarnation of a god notorious for his sexual appetites? Having said that, Ash also seems to have inherited Pan’s lack of luck when it comes down to actually getting laid. But, hell, that hasn’t stopped him trying. He is completely ruled by his vices, of which there are many, but basically if it’s illegal, frowned upon or has some kind of mind altering effect he’ll pounce on it. He sets himself no limits or boundaries and is pretty much oblivious to the rules and limits others set for him and therefore tends to break them without having the intention to. Ash never quite seems to come down from his high even when hung-over he seems to take some kind of enjoyment out of the brutal pain, I’d love to say that he is simply high on life but that would be a blatant lie, he gets more than a little help from certain substances. In many ways he is your typical stoner, coming across as almost enviably care free – seriously, very little seems to stress this kid out – he takes most things life throws at him in his stride without stumbling or falling and if asked he will happily tell you that it’s because he hasn’t been stone old sober since he was twelve.

Ash never ceases to fall prey to that brutal beast; infatuation. He can become infatuated at the drop of a hat (which actually literally happened once…it as a very nice hat) and the only time you will see any kind of determination shining in his eyes is when he is enthralled by this powerful emotion. However, no matter how strong it is almost always short lived as his attention shifts elsewhere. A god of the hunt, the thrill is all I he chase for Ash and the resulting act that follows. Afterwards he never seems to remember what it was exactly that had him so interested in the first place and before he knows what hit him he’ll fall head over heels in lust with a new conquest. Charming isn’t he?

Ash is, however, incredibly naïve in the sense that he never sees through other peoples facades and never notices even the most blatant of hidden agendas. He takes people at face value and tends to trust people he really shouldn’t, leaving him open to manipulation and more often than not landing him in the wrong crowd. The impulsive, or rather, idiotic side of his character allows him to be easily led into dangerous situations and he will go happily so long as there is the promise of some kind of thrill involved. In a sense Ash is an open minded individual, he will try most things at least once out of sheer curiosity and because he is simply an experience whore. He doesn’t believe in sticking to what you know you like just because it’s the safe option. Although to be honest, he has a tendency to never learn from his own mistakes so he has no true idea what it is he likes exactly.

People tend to assume that Ash isn’t that bright, never really giving him much credit in the intelligence department, mostly down to the fact that he sees no point in wasting precious time trying to impress people and using big words tends to sober one up. They aren’t far from the truth, however, although Ash may not be a complete idiot, any potential he has of having a truly brilliant mind is wasted. His studies inevitably fall sacrifice to his wild lifestyle and random bouts of laziness. Basically if it doesn’t bring some kind of instantaneous pleasure or satisfaction (i.e: studying) then he couldn’t care less. Having said that he does tend to surprise people with random spurts of sage advise, intuitive thinking and wit but these tend to be rather rare.


You might as well add tension to the long list of things that don’t register on Ash’s radar, this kid is all but blind when it comes to sensing when a simple conversation is about to turn nasty. A lover and in no way a fighter he will walk away from physical conflict 99.9% of the time and if backed into a corner he will fall back on humour and his ability to talk his way out of a starving lions jaws before resorting to fighting back. Having said that, conflict seems to follow on his heels like a devoted puppy; Ash has a painful knack of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong kind of people which, needless to say, earns him a few enemies. Although he never seems to realise that he has any.


Likes:

- Raves, especially ones in forests
- Rock climbing
- Heights
- Dancing ‘till he drops (quite literally)
- Goats (don’t ask)
- Good music, i.e: nothing made by anyone who has ever had ties to the Disney channel
- Acoustic music
- The rare times he actually does get laid
- Really big head phones
- Adrenaline sports
- Illegal substances of all shapes, sizes and flavours
- Having a good joint close at hand,
- Most sports that involve a board
- Joy riding

Dislikes:

- Rules and boundaries
- Competitive sports that don’t involve a board
- Being stone cold sober
- Realising there’s only one cigarette or joint left
- Leprechauns
- Ear phones
- The clique mentality
- The fact that a bunch of rich old blokes have the right to deicide what’s legal.

Strength:

- Doesn’t stress
- Tries to get the most out of life
- Experience junkie
- Open minded
- Optimistic, always seems enthusiastic about something
- Has rare moments of being quite profound
- You wouldn’t think it, but he gives very good advice
- Does a killer Mr. Tumnus impression

Weaknesses:

- Easily led astray
- Naïve, trusts people far too easily
- Hedonist
- Oblivious to, well, pretty much everything
- Overindulgent with, well, pretty much everything
- Hasn’t been completely sober since he was twelve
- Doesn’t handle conflict well
- Lacks ambition
- Falls hopelessly in lust at the drop of a hat
- Shapeshifts sporadically, triggered by strong emotions

Fears: Loosing his porn collection in a fire…yes, you really didn’t need to know that.
Goal: To find some way to legalise weed in America and the Uk…gotta get your priorities straight.

Power/Ability:

Shapeshifting -

Ability to transform ones appearance, causing them to appear as new people, creatures or even inanimate objects. Ash's ability is no where near as impressive as it sounds. At present he can only shapeshift into his satyr form and he has no idea how to do so voluntarily although it seems to have a tie to his emotions and level of sobriety.

WELCOME TO MY LIFE ' '

Origin: Nottingham, England
History:

As far as Ash can tell he must have started out life as one of those “Oh shit your pregnant?” babies. Only his parents didn’t deal with it like most normal people with beating hearts in their chests. He was found, box fresh from the hospital, abandoned at the Manchester train station. But that’s pretty much where the little orphan sob story ends. Yes, Ash never knew his biological parents but he’s had his whole life to get over it and if they didn’t have any desire to know their kid then he had no desire to know them. This is, after all, the twenty first century and not the seventeen hundreds and Ash was fortunate enough to be adopted almost right off the bat by a young upper class couple living in Nottingham. And what followed was the kind of picturesque early childhood that fills albums with photos which make guests faintly nauseous when unexpectedly forced to flick through them.

His adoptive family were liberal new age type parents, the kind that don’t believe in setting strict boundaries and view any form of sternness in a parent as a cardinal sin. Ash was basically given free rein to do whatever the hell he wanted, or as his parents put it; to feed the creative side of himself. By the time Ash reached his pre-teens it was impossible to catch him without spray paint drying on his hands and his personal theme song comprised of a chorus of angry older citizens shouting; Kid don’t skate there! His school marks were suffering, his teachers frustrated since they knew he had the ability he just wasn’t interested in putting in the work. The only subject he truly excelled at or had any real interest in was music; it almost seemed as if he could pick any instrument and learn it.

If he wasn’t lending a helping hand in giving the neighbourhood a bad name, he disappeared for hours on end, roaming the woods near his home. No one quite knows what he got up to all alone in the woods but it as the only place here ash felt truly at home. As he got older these disappearances lost their innocence ang he gained a small posse of trouble making friends that always seemed to disappear with him, returning home hours later stinking of alcohol and weed. He became rather notorious at his school for organising small raves in Sherwood Forest which seemed to always narrowly escape being raided by police. Needless to say Ash went through his fair share of schools during his junior high days, by his ninth year of school the local private schools flat out refused to accept his attendance and his parents were grudgingly forced to enrol him in a government school to his sheer delight and Ash, quite frankly, thrived in the government school environment.

His wild antics were steadily growing more severe as he discovered a love of twocing cars and joy riding. His luck of avoiding prosecution and consequences finally ran out when he was caught behind the wheel of a classic Jaguar, and high out of his mind. Things weren’t looking to good for Ash, he was too young to be tried as an adult but there was a dark corner of a Juvenile facility with his name on it. Luckily his parents money saved him in the end and instead he was enrolled on a new program for troubled teenagers out in the country. When Ash heard about it he flat out begged for the juvie sentence. The program claimed to turn troubled teens into responsible citizens by means of hard labour on an isolated farm in the middle of absolute nowhere, and all in the space of a few months over the summer. The brochure was enough to make him consider running away to France. But despite everything he knew he couldn’t do that to his parents, he wasn’t a bad kid simply a wild one, and he knew it would kill them if he up and disappeared.

The drive to the farm was long and arduous, crammed into a small uncomfortable bus with fourteen other similarly pissed off looking kids. Stepping off the bus was like stepping three hundred years into the past. The brochure had not said anything about the farm being Amish and Ash came the closest he’s ever come to threatening someone as he pleaded with the bus driver to take him home.

Ironically, what Ash deemed to be end of his social life ended up being the start of his life as a reincarnated god. Part of him felt an odd affinity for life on the farm; his chores involved taking the goat herd to the top pastures and minding them for the day like an outdated shepherd. He wasn’t used the quiet solitude but he took to it like a fish to water and though he would never admit he started to enjoy the company of the animals and similarly the goats seemed completely at ease with Ash. He still isn’t sure what exactly triggered his first shapeshift but it is not something he would ever wish upon his worst enemy. Few things are more terrifying than falling asleep in soft grass on a warm summer day and then waking up with the furry hind quarters of a goat instead of your own wonderfully human legs and not to mention the horns.

Ash vowed never to touch another joint after that, it should be noted that this resolution lasted a little over five minutes. At first he dismissed it as his own imagination going wild mixed with some kind of waking nightmare. And yet a part of him couldn’t help but break out laughing every time he looked down at his new and improved legs and he spent the following hour doing really bad Mr. Tumnus impressions before he realised that his wasn’t a dream. He was in fact a freaky mutated goat boy. The shape shift didn’t last for more than two hours before he painfully returned to his human form but following that incident it began to happen rather frequently. Ash never quite knew if he would wake up with cloven hooves or a pair of small horns. Hiding this from his fellow delinquents and the managers was incredibly difficult but somehow he managed it.

With terrifying moments of awaking up as a half goat boy aside the rest of the summer seemed to pass by without any mishaps. Having said that the program had failed to completely break Ash of his habits and he still believes that the only reason he got through the thing was because of his secret stash of weed. But finally the end of the program was in sight, the managers so impressed by Ash’s “transformation” that they decided he would be among the few to return home at the end of the summer. In a weird way he was actually quite sad to leave his goat herd and the other delinquents.

Everyone seemed to believe that he was finally back on track when he returned to Nottingham. He wasn’t. Ash returned to his old habits before he had even had a chance to unpack his luggage. It didn’t take him very long at all until he was in the exact same position as before when one of his little raves was finally raided by cops thanks to a Judas amongst his friends, and this time he was spared any sympathy, he was out of luck and out of strikes. Ash was in serious danger of loosing the freedom that was so dear to him. It was around about this time that the mysterious Pantheon school got in touch with him. He had no clue how the hell they knew what he was and what he could do but he didn’t argue.

If they wanted to believe that he was a reincarnated god as opposed to a mutated half goat boy then that was perfectly fine with Ash. He was definitely not going to set them straight on that one. For the first time in his entire life he had actually done “research”, it only amounted to skim reading a wikipedia page on Pan and loosing interest half way through but he was pretty proud of his efforts nonetheless. There was one problem. The school was in America. The land of the free…the land with a drinking age of 21. He could already feel his liver getting all excited at the prospect, it was like moving into a country sized rehab. They were strict about pretty much everything. He’d give up his supposed godhood in the blink of an eye if it meant he could pop into a laid back Nottingham pub where they were known for turning a blind eye if you were a year or two underage.

CONNECTION TO THE MYTH ' '

-No one seems to fully agree when it comes to Pan’s exact parentage, different myths tell different stories. Ash, similarly, never knew his parents.
- It kind of goes without saying that they’re power is a connection. Pan was famous for being a satyr and Ash is able to shapeshift into a similar form.
- Again I probably don’t need to mention this but Ash has a tenuous connection to Pan via his full name.
-Pan was said to have talked Psyche out of committing suicide, despite being a bit of a bastard he did have moments of compassion and gave sound advice. Ash once stopped a friends ex-girlfriend from killing herself, he also has random bursts of unexpected intellect and, though you wouldn’t think it, he gives fairly good advice.
- Pan was the god of flocks, shepherds, wild and domesticated animals. As such he wild and tame animals were under his protection. Ash was forced to spend a summer on an old school farm and was in charge of looking after a herd of goats, all day every day.
-Pan was also a god of rustic music and was known to be a fairly masterful musician. He was never seen without his pan-pipes or rather syrinx. Ash has always loved music and is a fairly good musician, learning to play new instruments is one of the few things he is actually good at. He’d sooner leave the house without his head than without any music and is hardly ever seen without a pair of headphones.
- Pan was famous for his sexual appetite, lustful nature and was notorious for chasing after nymphs as well as falling in “love” with Pitys and Syrinx only to have them escape him by turning into a tree and reeds. Ash, like Pan, falls hopelessly in lust at the drop of hat and can’t tell the difference between love and infatuation. He also has Pan’s lustful nature and unfortunately the god’s rotten luck when it comes to actually getting laid.
- Pan, a familiar face in Dionysus’ retinue, spent most of his time dancing with nymphs and participating in orgies in forests and woods – and generally having a wild time. Ash lives for raves, he is generally the first person to start dancing and the last one to stop. He shares Pan’s hedonistic outlook on life.

ROLEPLAYING SAMPLE ' '

When Troydan finally awoke, it was to fresh, out of the box, dawn and a very unwelcome sight. It had been one of those rare occasions where he allowed himself to sleep or at least get as close to it as his body would allow. He let down his guard down for a mere hour and his sworn nemesis had made her move. He glared at the scruffy rabbit a few inches away, not in the least fooled by it's facade of cuteness; its innocently twitching nose and floppy ears. It was evil incarnate. The rodent was eyeing a particular small plant he had spent hours perfecting. It was a plant that had not been seen in these woods for nearly two hundred years, it didn't look like much but he was damn proud of it and no evil little rodent was going to have it for breakfast on his watch. "Don't you dare." The rabbit's nose twitched artfully, its beady little eyes on Troydan as it tauntingly opened its mouth slowly. He waved his tawny arms in the air threateningly but the creature took no notice. Troydan's eyes widened as it took a bite; he could have sworn it was smirking at him. "Little bugger!."

The plant's leaves rustled and before the rabbit could go hopping off, smug about it's small triumph over him, a branch smacked it on the nose. He chuckled as his nemesis tuned tail, which left the score roughly at rabbits - three, Troydan - seven, but the small war was still on and he was far from the victor. Troydan sprung to his feet, energetic as always like an ADHD kid on Cocaine. He stretched and scratched his head, rubbing his short horns thoughtfully. Another day of toadstool growing ahead and perhaps a small chance of harassing an early morning Jogger. With the sun slowly beginning to rise the forest was coming alive with the sounds of stirring diurnal wildlife. The morning air was crisp and had yet to be tainted by the scents of the nearby city, there was the sound of birds singing, of leaves rustling, of...screaming. That was new.

At least it was a break from the sounds of chainsaws. He didn't have the heart to kill another lumberjack. Okay that wasn't quite true, he just couldn't be asked. Now why would someone be screaming in his woods? Troydan hoped his trees hadn't been misbehaving again. He'd told them many times that tripping up the odd dog walker was quite amusing but crushing them was a big no no. No need to alert any of the sidhe to his trouble making presence. As far as they knew he was still lying low in Ireland. He yawned and shifted flawlessly into his stag form, deciding that investigating the source of the uncalled for yelling would be far more entertaining that waging war on mindless rodents.

There was the faint scent of blood in the air; the terminally furry had clearly been going at the local deer population again. He was looking for to the day when he could have a little chat with the terminally furry about sustainable hunting. No doubt it would end in blood and tears, but that was environmental politics for you and what great fun it is. He trotted out from between the trees, masking his sidhe scent with the musk of deer and the scent of earth, and stared out at the body of water. From what he could see there was a very naked human lad floating on his back. It seemed nudists were making a comeback, he hadn't seen one since the sixties and they were such interesting humans. It was definitely worth introducing himself. Troydan had been a hermit for far too long, with the odd interactions he had had of late aside. Those few social occasions had been short-lived and ended...badly, they had taught him that he needed to work on his social skills as mundane as that was. And here was the perfect, naked opportunity.

The white deer stepped into the water and waded forwards with strong although rather awkward steps. The human seemed rather out of it. No, not human. the deer snorted as the rich earthy scent of wolf filled its nostrils. Ah a wolf, a fellow of the wild. Lovely. Lycans were great fun to toy with. Troydan called out to the werewolf, only realising when the words came out as a throaty deer bark, that he had no human vocal chords. Oh how embarrassing. He shifted back into his fairly human form, if you ignored the horns, and glanced around the pond for anything of use. Bingo. A Lilly pad the size of his palm slipped silently across the surface of the water towards him, steadily growing in size as he felt his strength begin to wane. By the time it reached him it was the size of a finely woven Persian rug. He climbed onto it and settled down cross legged like a well fed tawny Ghandi. With that done he finally turned his attention back to the young werewolf a few feet away.

Troydan cleared his throat loudly and splashed his small audience. "Moping I see. Well, I have decided to grace you with my company so the least you could do wolf, is pay attention." Grinning Troydan slipped his now rather soggy reed pipes from a pouch slung across his bare chest and toyed with the ancient instrument whilst eyeing the boy with interest. "Care for a little dramatic music to add to you atmosphere of misery?" He leaned forwards with a mischievous glint in his smiling tri coloured eyes, "We could play a little game perhaps to cheer you up." This was going to be fun, why else would a stray wolf be in his forest if not to amuse Troydan?
.

BEHIND THE SCENE ' '

Your name: Just call me Panic. But I am more than happy to answer to: Your Awesomeness.
Age: 18
How long have you been RPing?: Wouldn’t you love to know .
Where/How did you find us?: I actually joined your site not too long ago and created a character but lost my internet connection and then moved continents (as you do) so yeah I didn’t get past a first post with him. I finally have the internet again so I’m giving it another shot but I plan to actually stick around this time.

[KC]

Hmm...I like you. You can come in.

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