Post by Kayla Murdough on Dec 17, 2010 3:24:23 GMT -8
Kayla Murdough
-BASIC INFORMATION-
Full Name: Kayla Shane Murdough
Preferred Name or Nickname: Kayla, The Mouse
Original/Canon: Original
Age: 33
Date of Birth:July 16, 1981
Main Character Classification -
(List):
Character Type:Hunter/(Gatherer)
Power(s):
Sexuality: Straight
Side(Good, Evil, or Neutral): Good
Hometown: Winchester, KY
Current Residence:
-DETAILS-
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Brown
Height:5'3
Body Type:slender, willowy
Distinguishing Marks:
Tattoos and Piercings: both ears pierced, tattoo against possession protection on left shoulder blade, tattoo of Tinkerbell lower left hip/pelvic area
Vehicle (if you wish): 2010 Chevy Silverado but mostly her trusty horse
Personal Style (write a short paragraph):
Function far outweighs fashion these days. Her typical clothing will match her job or climate as it suits ranging from jeans and a flannel shirt to tactical BDU pants, underarmor shirts that cling to her form and a sturdy black leather jacket. Sure she has some of the more 'girly' things she used to enjoy wearing but the roughness of life these days doesn't lend much to sundresses or skirts. She still has her old cowboy boots and hat and belts with the big buckles and if just around her homebase will wear those even when working out in the garden.
-PERSONAL INFORMATION-
Likes (3 at least):
* storms
* bourbon
* working in her garden
* playing her guitar
* riding her horse
Dislikes (3 at least):
* Demons
* feeling weak
* not having electricity in her home
* heating water for baths
* Not having a shower
Strengths (3 at least):
* resilient
* resourceful
* stubborn
* Quick-witted
* Life skills (farming, hunting, living off the land, etc..)
* redneck engineering
* Good with animals of all kinds
* stronger than she looks from hard work
Weaknesses (3 at least):
* small stature
* animals
* children
* is merely human with all it's limitations
* hard time turning her back on those in need
* her son
Dreams for the Future: Being able to raise her child in peace in a normal world that is free of the evil that plagues it currently.
Fears: Falling prey to the Croat virus, losing her child, the world ending
Hero(es): Her parents, grand parents, brother
Biggest Secret(s): The paternity of her child.
Personality (write a decent paragraph):
Once upon a time....that's how most stories go right? Well once upon a time she was a sweetheart of a girl. The epitome of the down home Southern gal, raised humble on a family farm surrounded by family and tight knit community, church going, God loving, patriotic American girl. Hard times made her harder though. First with the events that put her on the run from the law and had her running all over the country hiding and ducking the law after killing her (demon possessed) abusive fiancee in self defense. It left her scared, a survivor of an abusive relationship but meeker and more timid, a classic case of battered woman syndrome.
But as time went by and people crossed her path in life she learned more, discovered that her beloved fiancee had not been himself, learning of demons and monsters and all other sorts of supernatural creatures. Her association with a hunter by the name of Preston Payne had given her more insight and confidence.
But as the world fell and life as she knew it came to a halt just as a new life was emerging her personality switched. She was still that warm, loving woman inside but it didn't show as often or as freely. She no longer trusts blindly nor looks for the best in everyone like she once did. She's tougher, colder when called for but never intentionally mean or cruel though her practicality can be seen by some as callousness.
-CHARACTER HISTORY-
Father:Elijah Seymore Murdough (deceased)
Mother: Katherine Bailey Murdough (deceased)
Sibling(s):Brother - Connor Seamus Murdough (whereabouts unknown)
Children: Elijah Connor Murdough (2 yrs old)
Other Family: (close family)Grandmother and Grandfather - Bridget Alora and Connor Shane Murdough (deceased)
"Family Don't End with Blood": (close friends)fiance (deceased) Ben Harlow
History:
From the time she could walk Kayla was helping on the family farm in Winchester, Kentucky, a rather rural community. It had always been in her family, passed from father to son as the generations grew. She was the baby of the family, the little girl but she was always all tomboy. She'd help her mother feed the animals and gather the eggs, pulling weeds in her chubby little toddler hands. And, even from a very young age she was stuck to her brother like glue.
As she grew older she learned to do other things, driving the tractor or the old farm truck around to the pastures, pitchin hay, mucking stalls, hard work but she always loved it. It was simply her way of life, all she knew. She was no stranger to riding horses, camping in the rough (no RVs here!) , hunting, field dressing the kill, roping cattle, sheering sheep, swimming in the creek, all those prosaic farm life activities that they took for granted.
As with most others in the little community she attended church regularly, Sunday morning and night as well as Wednesday night. All the pot luck dinners and lock-ins were normal and looked forward to. She even sang in the choir though she was shy when asked to sing a solo. She had a lovely voice but something about being up in front of all those people and seeing them looking back at her made her stage shy.
She was a bright student, always on the honor roll and took part in the usual activities that were common at her school, 4-H, FFA, and others. Every year she showed goats in the county fair and participated in the barrel racing and calf roping. She was just a tiny little slip of a thing but she had heart and determination, not to mention a sunny personality that endeared her to those that knew her. She was the quintessential girl next door with a strong tomboy streak.
At thirteen her grandfather gave her a special present; his old knife. It was a special knife, he said, had saved his life more than once. He'd found it in WWII when he and his unit were over in Europe fight Nazi's. He told her the story of how they'd come across the nearly destroyed church (in reality it was more of a monastery) and most of the building had been reduced to rubble. But the blade glinted in the light of the moon, half buried in the rubble near the altar. It was a beautiful piece; stag's horn handle with intricate designs carved into the horn and polished, the blade made of iron and sharp.He said he'd never had to sharpen it much over the years though, good craftsmanship he claimed.
From that day on she took to wearing it everywhere on her belt in a sheath. It became a staple of her wardrobe and that wasn't so unusual given where she lived. Everyone carried knives and had gun racks in the back windows of their pickups. She took it everywhere with her except for church. The brown leather belt didn't really go with her dresses, her mother had told her gently.
At sixteen she got her first job, working as a cashier at the Piggly Wiggly. She was a natural, friendly and chatty and made friends with everyone that came through, learning and using their names. Often the little old ladies that were regular customers would bring her a slice of homemade pie or some fresh banana bread they'd made to have with her lunch.
Graduation came and went and she did not go off to college despite having the grades for it. It just cost too much and her folks needed her help on the farm now that her brother was gone away to college. She continued working both at the Piggly Wiggly and on the farm, no stranger to hard work.
At twenty-one she went to work at the local watering hole, Cooter Browns, more honky tonk than pub.It was great fun, the music, the crowds. She was good at handling those touchy feely customers and deflecting their advances and propositions smoothly without causing drama. She was attentive and able to sweet talk men out of fights that would break up the bar and would cause the evening (and the tips) to go south. Those drunks that tried to leave with their car keys in their hands were smoothly taken care of, either a cab called or sometimes she even drove them home herself to make sure they got there safe. It was the kind of town where everybody knew everybody. At times the band would pull her up on stage to play with them or sing. She was pretty good with a guitar or a banjo or a even the fiddle. It was easier to perform up there with the crowd in darkness and the lights in her eyes but there was still some shyness about it.
But her life began to change irrevocably the night -he- walked in the bar. She first noticed those beautiful baby blue eyes as he sat at the bar, watching her move around the room. He never made an untoward advance nor tried to play any grab ass but rather, spoke to her with the utmost respect and kissed no more than her hand when he asked her to dance. He was the perfect gentleman. That night he waited till the bar closed and took her to breakfast. They became inseparable soon after him always coming to the bar to see her, taking her out to eat after the shift, treating her like a lady.
At the ripe age of twenty-five she fell in love. But as all honeymoons come to an end so did theirs. At first it was small things, being jealous or making the mean comment here or there about her clothes or her hair or her cooking or housekeeping. He started accusing her of flirting in the bar, coming in and drinking more heavily. Nothing violent, except that one time when he was very drunk. She wrote it off as an accident, telling herself it had to be, that he was drunk and had been clumsy, moving when she was and backhanding her across the cheek.
But, it was just the start. Over the years that they were engaged things got worse. She learned to cover the bruises and make excuses. She knew it was wrong and knew she didn't deserve it but.. she loved him. She couldn't leave him.
One fateful night when he took he to the movies things came to a head. He'd been acting strange all day but it was a sweet strangeness, flirting with her, grabbing her bottom or slapping it playfully as she passed by, stealing kisses and touches. Outside the theater he turned to her, and smiled, his eyes utter black. No blues, no whites, just a slick, oily black.
His hand come back and with a smile on his beautiful lips he punched her in the face, not a slap like usual, but a punch. People were standing around, they saw what was happening but no one moved to help, like they were frozen. He kept punching and she struggled, trying to get away but with the size difference she wasn't able to. As he straddled her and wrapped his hands around her throat, cutting off her air she fumbled around, feeling the knife on her belt. Without thinking, she struck out in that primitive fight or flight instinct and rammed the knife into his gut and upward, the tip of the knife piercing the bottom of his heart even as the blade split his insides.
Before the dark oblivion of unconsciousness took her she saw him throw his head back, his mouth seeming to open wider than it should have and a long, swirling plume of what appeared to be black smoke shot out of him and raced skyward. When his head dropped back down her last thought before she passed out was that his eyes were blue again. Dead and blue.
When she came to she was in a hospital room, on a bed and she was looking up at the Deputy. But when she tried to sit up she noticed that her hand that held the IV was handcuffed to the bed. A State Trooper was there too, they were saying that she was being charged with manslaughter. She tried to protest to tell them to ask the witnesses, that she was defending herself but was told that those people that were outside all said they couldn't remember what happened. One moment the couple was there the next he was dead.
She was arraigned once she was healed enough to be released from the hospital, the grand jury finding enough cause to send the case to trial. her father bonded her out and took her home that night but as soon as she arrived he and her brother took her out to the barn. Inside was the old beat up farm truck that hadn't seen a road in years, nothing but fields and farm tracks passing under it's wheels.
They'd fixed it up, put new tires on it, and gassed it up. Inside was a bag with her clothes in it and another smaller one with all the money they could pull together in it. A temporary tag was in the back window, her father had gotten it from his high school buddy that ran the used car lot downtown, a few more were in the bag with money, the expiration date blank so that she could switch them out. The truck was registered to no one or nothing.
"You run babygirl." he'd told her "You run and don't you look back. I won't let them send you to the chair in that kangaroo court."With many tears and hugs and kisses she bid her family goodbye and hit the road, heading south.
Her travels took her all over, always one step ahead of the law, always careful to stay out from under the radar. Fate threw people in her path that changed her life more and more. She encountered zombies, vengeful ghosts, and eventually learned the truth about her fiancee and demons. One of those people put in her path was one Preston Payne, a hunter. After working a job in Florida where she was working at a bar they fought and defeated a vengeful spirit that nearly claimed both their lives in the end.
He offered to let her tag along with him but she ran, not wanting to tell him her troubles or why she was on the run from the law. She'd grown fond of him by then and didn't want to bring more trouble into his life. But as fate would have it their paths crossed again and the truth came out, telling him of her past one drunken night. Telling him everything, learning from him the truth about her dead fiancee. From then on out they were a team.
He taught her the finer points of supernatural hunting (not without it's own gaffs and screw ups along the way of course), hand to hand combat techniques and acrobatic maneuvers as well as how to handle guns more complicated than her own rifles and shot guns. Knife play was taught as well as how to drive a motorcycle. She taught him how to cook, how to ride a horse, and how to play country songs on the guitar.
(TBC)
-FINAL DETAILS-
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Murdough, Kayla
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I, Kayla, have read the SITE PLOT and RULES and hereby agree to follow them, and stay true to the guidelines set by the site staff and to the ideals set in Supernatural.