Post by Beast on May 21, 2020 20:30:50 GMT -5
Who am I? Just a conscience!
Introduce yourself
Hey, howdy, hey! The name's EbonyPatriot, and I wished upon a star from Whatsits Galore many moons ago (possibly linked from the old Disney Ever Notice Site?)?. My other imaginary friends include Ronno, Bolt, Accipiter, Geno & Gurri, and Thunderbolt I. Beast and I are so very eager to join the Worlds of Disney circle of life!
Character basics
Character name: Beast. Just the Beast. When he was worth something, he was named Adam…. Or was it Vincent? It’s been so long…
Age: 20 years old, almost at his 21st birthday...
Species: Formerly human, Homo sapiens, now exhibiting traits of Sus scrofa, Gorilla gorilla gorilla, Mandrillus sphinx, Bison bison, Nipponia nippon, Panthera leo melanochaita, Ursus arctos middendorff, and Canis lupus lupus
Birthplace: Lepetit Dauphin, Île-de-France, France, 04/13/1771
Movie: Beauty and the Beast (1991) and its many sequels and spinoffs.
Custom title: Beauty of a Beast
Why'd you pick this character? I’ve actually always liked the Beast— I remember when I was little, I wanted to go the zoo and see the real-life beasts. (Hey, I could see all the animals from Lion King and Jungle Book, why not the beasts? 
)
When I first start playing with the idea of running him, I had thought that his fading memories of human life (reinforced by the commentary and the “Human Again” scene of the Special Edition) would serve as a nice fig leaf to cover my own ignorance of French royal history. The more I thought about it, though, the pathos of Beast’s memories and hard-won education, fading piece by piece until all is gone forever… That’s my fear of my own— since I’m not working in the veterinary field at the moment, I fear forgetting all of my lessons, piece by piece until all is gone forever (to judge from the writings of James Herriot, a common fear). I can relate to his terror and despair as even memories disappear forever…
Then when you add all of Glen Keane’s commentary of the beautiful symbolism in every move, every action? Yes, I wanted the Beast.
(Besides he and the Archdeacon are the humans I feel confident enough to play, and hopefully his status between man and critter will make him even easier for me to play [my humans scare small children ]).
Character appearance (try to get at least 2 or 3 sentences for each section)
Hair description: Well… even as a man his hair was cocoa-brown. Now of course it’s everywhere: everything but his rostral pinna, nose leather, paw pads, and curving bison horns. The coat is shaggy and thick, like lion’s mane in texture, especially on his neck and shoulders. A crest of darker fur, umber in color, bristles along his dorsal side from sagittal crest to xiphoid process. The same colored fur runs in a ridge from mandible to pelvis. Even his wolf-like tail and elbow tufts are the same dark, silky fur. About the only growth of hair he likes is his beige beard.
Facial description/mood/expressions: With the heavy beige brows of a gorilla highlighting an umber mask with striking blue human eyes (the one part of him that doesn’t change no matter what his form) set in dark umber sockets that then arches down his zygomatic arches, the Beast has a fearsome (and he’d add, ugly) face. When you add his wild boar tusks and nose rim, with wire-like hair scruff on his nose bridge, and sharp mandrill fangs, little wonder even the mighty European brown bears and starving wolves usually run in terror. Yet a closer look, beyond the fearsome teeth of the boar, wolf, lion and bear crammed into too small a mouth, reveals a sorrowful expression: his pain, his nervousness, and his despair.
Clothing style: Once he dressed in regal and expensive clothes, worthy of an heir to the line of the Sun King. But these days, he wears nothing but torn dark pants and heavy velvet cape, so heavy it that, when he stands still, it drops to the floor. Why should he wear more? With an ursine pelvis, lupine scapulas, a skull with the occipital joint located caudally, a deep narrow chest (much deeper than it is wide)…none of the old clothes, worn by his father and uncles, fit. Even his tailors, best of the best, struggle to adjust to his strange anatomy. Not to mention the fact that his coat, with its rough guard hairs and wooly undercoat, keeps him much warmer in the drafty castle than he’d like… Really, what’s the point?
Body build: Once he was tall and strong, slim yet muscular. Now he resembles an American bison: with forequarters bulky, hindquarters slim. When down on all fours (which, while much faster and easier than the mincing steps he was to take with his digitrade hind feet, only serves to remind him how much of a beast he has become), his hind feet work best, propelling him forward while his spine 'bounces' to increase his stride. Even his bulky forelimbs move easier in the quadruped stance, since his scapulas sit laterally like a wolf (on a human, the scapulas lay on the back) and his radius and ulna are semi-fused (which allow more or less human range of motion). The forepaws, too, are stuck between man and a bear: he walks neither digitrade or plantigrade, nor even on the back of his knuckles like a gorilla, but a combination of all: with fingers spread and his weight resting on the distal joints of his metacarpals. Luckily his spine and pelvis are shaped like a bear, allowing him to, like a bear, stand upright for as long as he wants. However, since his occipital joint is on the caudal rather than ventral side of his skull, he finds it easier to slouch, only putting his head straight up when he has to.
Any unique traits (optional): Pretty much all of him is unique! That said, like a buffalo and grizzly, there appears to be a hump on his back. Unlike those two, it is not muscle but just a thick path of fur (which only increase his tailors' struggles). Additionally, he has a moderately developed nuchal ligament to help hold his head.
Original character analysis (In your own words and please be thorough)
Personality:
Much like all humans, Beast stands betwixt and between: neither angel nor animal, neither hero nor villain. With his hair-trigger temper and violent rages, the Beast can reflect the worse of both: the malice and cunning of a man with the savage fury of an animal. For over decade he been pitying himself, trapped in this beastly shape for a single careless act (made when he was an orphan of 11 he'd like to add). Really, from his perspective, he was the victim: when Maurice dared trespass on his private lair to (no doubt) gawk and laugh at his hideous shape, he wouldn't have minded killing Maurice-- after all, Maurice started it.
But his servants, inherited from his parents (much like, though he didn't know it, the Enchantress had been-- for years she had advised his parents and grandparents) see a different side of him. They see through his rages to see his true self: a spoiled child who never truly grew up; a brat yes, but not an untrainable brat. Though this aggravates him more than anything: how often, when he was brooding over this cruel world, where "they're all against him" and "everyone strikes back and double!", would they come to soothe, with the matronly Mrs. Potts just saying "Is that my little Adam in there?" (Or did she say Vincent? It hadn't been long before she reluctantly agreed to never use that name.)
The servants know more than he. The Beast, like Simba, is much more than he has become. The blue eyes reflect a good heart, the potential for gentle kindness his fearsome looks and more fearsome rages mask. When he manages to remove his blinders, he realizes that his actions have effects: he can hurt others. Perhaps, perhaps...the world isn't divided into the nice categories of good and evil people, where he (whew!) is one of the good guys. Perhaps he too is sinner, where "but for the grace of God go I!"
Cunning and courageous he is, yet the Beast has still not fully realized that his cruelty and temper stem from a simple selfishness, an inability (or rather, reluctance) to think of anyone but himself. Slowly, slowly, he is learning to think of others before himself... To control his temper and answer a higher call. Unable to live the blameless callousness of a simple beast, he must re-learn how to live as a man.
History:
One of heirs to the line of the Sun King, son of a youngest heir, the Beast was born to a beautiful world. The castle lay self-sufficient, overlooking the small provincial town nestled in the rolling hills: it could and did guard its land without interference or interaction with the village for years at a time. The wise king and queen, who had so long waited for this child to rule the land when they were gone, were estactic. For years they had wept as child after child had died, for years they dreaded leaving their kingdom to chaos. Already there were stirrings among the people, a growing disgust and rage against the crown. This child was their last hope, for their people and their lineage both.
So it little surprise that, betraying their own wisdom and the advice of their Enchantress advisor, they spoiled their son. Everything he wanted, everything they had, they gave him. Eventually, eventually they promised, they would teach how to be grateful. They would teach him a lesson too often princes forget: that to be king means to be first in battle, last in retreat, first to sacrifice, last to take. But for now, they wanted to enjoy their son, to make him happy and ease their grief over his deceased brothers and sisters.
Then, when the child was only six, illness struck the land. The old king died, with his wife following him a few months later.
The servants, who had also mourned the lost heirs and cheered when the boy lived, immediately took over, desperately trying to raise the boy like he was one of their own. Still, everyone knew they were no replacement, especially the sorrowing child.
Only one thing made the child happy: to focus on himself, only himself. Perhaps, if his parents had lived, he would have chosen differently.
No, he decided it was a cruel world, one where the only happiness one could get was what one clawed out for himself.
The child was at the age of reason: when he could indeed determine right from wrong. And there was a quiet part of him that begged him to choose differently. But he was just a boy, and it hurt less to focus on himself. Surely, it wasn't really wrong, he told himself, to look out for number one.
So the boy grew spoiled, selfish, and unkind. The handsomer he grew, the more his arrogance-- which his parents had started, which his well-meaning servants had only cultured-- grew uglier and beastlike. To the prince, it was his due to have everyone, from the maitre'd Lumiere to court musician Forte, from kitchen head Mrs. Potts to majordomo Cogsworth, fulfill his every whim. They owed it to him.
It was at Christmas time, when the boy had turned 11. A rumor, started perhaps by Angelique, the castle decorator, reported that the Enchantress was coming to look over this heir to the throne. The castle prepped the prince, who was eager to meet the mysterious woman who had helped his parents so often. Perhaps, maybe, perhaps he could at last talk with someone who saw his parents as they were.
Hours past, and the boy lost patience. Feeling he had been a good boy long enough, it was time for him to enjoy himself. Demanding the presents he was surely due, a knock at the door distracted him. Still dressed in his royal finest, he raced to the door, opening to find a repulsive hag.
It was not the first time a desperate hobo begged for shelter. Often his servants prevailed on him to let them in, especially in the bitter winter. Oftener these peasants had given some kind of good, at least a trinket to pay for their rude imposition. But the last thing he wanted to see was this ugly wretch at such a hectic festival, and to add to the insult, she thought she could buy him with a mere rose!
A worthless flower that was nothing to him!
Sneering, he dismissed her. Let her die out there, for all he cared. Served her right, for ruining his party. The prince had better things to do.
The old hag warned him, oddly enough, to not be deceived by appearances, for beauty lies within.
The prince laughed: senile hag! Did she not realize he was an heir to the line of the Sun King, one who surely outshone the sun itself!
At once, her ugliness melted away, leaving the beautiful Enchantress.
At once, the prince realized his dreadful mistake. Desperately he pleaded with her, but it was too late.
With that she turned him into a beast, a monstrous mismatch of the menagerie he had watched and teased as a boy. The servants too she turned into objects, though whether as punishment (for their part in ruining the prince) or protection (for though the loyal servants would not leave him, it was not safe to leave anything organic with the raging beast), no one ever knew.
Two comforts, besides the bittersweet company of his trapped servants, she left him. One was a mirror, both to let him glimpse the outside world and to allow to watch over his village. The other was the rose. For 11 years it had grown: for 10 years would it bloom until 21st birthday. If he could love another and earn her love in return before the last petal fell, he would become human. If not, he would live out his live as a beast.
10 years passed like quicksilver, like merciless grains through the sand dial. The beast's hope faded with the rose.
Falling deeper and deeper into despair, the Beast alternated between bouts of furious destruction and paralyzing depression. Miserable, shuddering at his own reflection, he had grown to despise this world which had always despised him.
At first he tried to keep up his princely routines and habits. But bit by bit, piece by piece, all of those hard won lessons and skills withered and died.
Even his name, that name he forbid everyone to use, he found he could not remember. No amount of desperate searching could recover it.
Vaguely he remembered the moral from his mother's favorite tale, The Sky-lark: everything he had gotten, whether by birth or effort, had been gifted to him to protect and nuture. If he let it get away, then he could never get it back, not at any price.
For the 10 years his kingdom had functioned without him. So rarely did the royalty interact with the villagers that his absence had been barely recognized. What few interventions he had his servants made (he had monitored his subjects half-heartedly, but he did monitor them) were easily overlooked and forgotten. There were rumors that the absentee prince had been devoured and replaced by monster, but only the conspiracy-minded paid them the slightest care. A leader who barely lead was just the kind of guy the villagers liked.
So it was infuriating when, in his 20th year, when he had given up all hope of transforming, that an old man invaded his castle. It was terrible enough that his servants, the servants who had known his since childhood, had to see his twisted face. It was too much that one of his own subjects share dare trespass and laugh at him. Hadn't the Beast left this village alone? Why didn't he leave him alone?
Oh, he couldn't fault his servants for welcoming this interloper, he supposed: but that didn't mean he trusted their judgment. Hadn't every one of them, even the cynical Forte, told him how wonderful the Enchantress was?
Snarling, hackles raised, he confronted the stranger, demanding him to explain him. But instead of answering, the senile robber had the audacity to stammer, gawking with wide and (he knew) laughing eyes at his horrid face!
Barely containing his rage, the Beast threw the spy in the dungeon: really, he had shown mercy in not killing the traitor on the spot. (And he was rather proud of his wit: hadn't the old man claimed that he had only intruded because he 'needed a place to stay?')
It was only a day later that his castle was invaded yet again, but this time by a beautiful maiden. The Beast was horrified: how long would it be until the entire country trekked to his castle to mock him?
She refused to listen to reason: so the old man was ill? Well maybe he should have thought of that before trespassing! The Beast was right: why couldn't she realize that? Why couldn't she understand that?
Then she offered to take the old man's place and serve out his sentence.
The Beast couldn't believe his pricked American bison ears. For so long he had been so lonely: could she be the one? The one to break his spell? Could a mademoiselle beautiful as she ever love a beast as ugly as he?
She begged him and he warned her just what she was doing: the old man was to live out his life here, and so anyone who took his place would have to do the same. Surely she realized that would take much longer for her, while the old man was practically dead already? A small part of protested at the injustice of her paying for someone else, but then hadn't he been punished for his parents' mistake? One request she made: to see just what her captor looked like.
That was the last thing he wanted to do!
Slowly, reluctantly, he stepped into a pool of light, standing up as much his spine would allow. It hurt worse than he expected, the fear and horror in his eyes.
Yet, with the courage of a lion, she still agreed.
Swiftly, before she, his last chance, could change her mind, he released the old man. Barely hearing the old man pleading for the girl (whom he tell from their scent, was likely his daughter-- oh how he despised that he could scent like an animal) to reconsider, he dragged him out. The entire time the man begged him reconsider-- a trick, no doubt-- until at last he snapped, quite truthfully, that she was not longer his concern. (And really, she wasn't-- it wasn't like this wicked thief had done a good job of raising her. No doubt this was part of his ruse all along, to lure his daughter here and swindle him!) The Beast shoved him into the spider-like carriage and commanded it to return him to the village. With that, he returned to the castle, head head low in thought. What was he going to do now?
When he arrived she was crying. Ah, well, he supposed she had changed her mind. (Who could blame her?) Would she be able to find her way back?
But no, that wasn't why she was crying.
"You didn't even let me say goodbye! I'll never see him again. I didn't get to say good-bye..."
Oh.
For the first time in his life, he felt sorry, truly sorry, for someone other than himself.
But-but he had been the victim? Hadn't he?
No, he can see now: his actions caused pain; his choices had effect on someone other than himself.
Miserable, he resolved to do better. And he started with Lumiere's suggestion, showing her to her room. (Which she protested? What did she like this drafty place?) Why, he even invited her to dinner!
A dinner she refused!
Desperately, and rather pathetically, he tried everything his well-meaning servants suggested: gentleness, calmness, suaveness, genteel. Why, he even said please!
To no avail! What did she want him to do, beg? No heir to the line of the Sun King begged! Besides he...wasn't sure he knew how.
No, his mirror revealed it was than that. She didn't want anything to do with him! And who could blame her? Who could want anything to with a monster?
Even when he was a boy, he found comfort sitting outside his room, where the roof was closed to the balcony and relatively unslanted.
This was where he had grieved the loss of his father, his mother, and his humanity.
And here was he was when the worse thing that could have happened had: the girl had invaded his space and about to destroy the rose!
It wasn't really the rose, even though when it died, so would he.
No, it was his shame that someone so beautiful and noble should see his wrecked lair: the torn furniture, the half-eaten carcasses of stags and boars, the torn portrait of the man he once looked like.
Loosing his temper, he roared at her. Did she not realize what she could have done?! Did he not tell to never come here?! She should get out, now!
Too late, he realized what he had done. Watching her flee in sheer terror, he knew it all his fault.
And worse, she running into danger. Loup-Garou, the grey wolf, led a pack of 40 or more of the savage hunters. The Beast knew from the fear of the forest creatures that the pack was always hungry. And the Beast knew that neither Loup-Garou or his slavering pack had any qualms when it came to eating humans.
So the Beast charged after her, galloping the entire way, desperately following her draft horse's huge hoof prints. If anything happened to her, it would be his fault: had not he sent her to certain death?
At last he caught up, just the grey hunters decided they'd rather start with the helpless woman than the kicking horse. Grabbing Loup-Garou by the scruff, he roared into the king-wolf's face a warning: leave or fight.
At Loup-Garou's command, they chose to fight.
It was savage battle in the swirling snow, the fast-tiring Beast fending off an endless swarm of experienced killers. Loup-Garou was almost as cunning as a man: that was why his dame had named him "werewolf." This pack, most of whom were his grown sons and daughters, took well after him. And they wanted the Beast, that current thief and longtime rival, dead.
Loup-Garou even succeeded in slashing through the Beast's matted foreleg, opening the hide. Encouraged, he sprang on the Beast's shoulders.
More out instinct than anything, the Beast bucked, sending Loup-Garou flying. The wolf struck a tree and lay still.
At the sight of their sire's defeat, the pack lost heart and fled: not a moment too soon, for the Beast collapsed with a groan.
To his amazement, the girl helped him on her horse, led him back and treated his wounds. Not that he needed her help: his tongue and salvia should take care of his own wound. It had before. But the girl disagreed.
Loosing his temper at the sting of the alcohol laced boiling water, the Beast roared at her. It was all her fault!
To his shock, the girl yelled right back. She argued with him-- and, er, made rather good points.
Giving up, the Beast sighed and resigned himself to the humiliating pain.
That is, until she thanked him.
No one had thanked him before.
With this first crack in his armor, he awkwardly welcomed her and thanked her for her help. She even gave him the gift of her name: Belle.
Belle asked him his, but some things he was not ready for. It was enough, that he had hope.
That was the last thing he remembered before finding himself a stranger in a strange land.
Ambitions:
It's been so long, he's all but given up hope... But, to be human again.
To win the love of Belle.
To regain his lost humanity: his name, his lessons, everything.
To be the best man he can.
Strengths & abilities:
The Beast combines the abilities of all his animal parts, among them:
The sheer strength of the gorilla (able to crush coconuts like a man does a pea) and grizzly, with the paws capable of breaking bones.
The cunning, sense of smell, and knife-like tusks of the wild boar.
The razor-sharp claws and throat-guarding mane of the lion.
The swift running and strong jaws of a wold.
Flaws:
A terrible temper that takes little to trigger and much to soothe, making him prone to what amount to tantrums.
Thanks to his spoiled upbringing, he's not used to caring for anyone but himself.
Self-pitying and a tendency to view himself as the victim, making him feel like all of his actions are justified.
Despite his lionlike courage in battle, he's actually very shy and uncertain, especially around women. (Mrs. Potts doesn't count).
Likes:
Stories of far places and daring adventures, although he's been unable to read for years.
Sleeping: when he dreams, he forgets his heartache.
Racing through the woods, though frankly it was more fun on horseback...
Eating, especially sweets and meat.
Dislikes:
What else: his monstrous form.
Too many instructions that frankly he can't remember.
Reminders of his past.
The fact that, like a feline, he lacks the taste buds to detect sweet: sugar tastes like nothing to him.
Fears:
Never again becoming human.
Making mistakes in speech or action.
Loosing every memory, everything he's learned forever.
The fact that, if he cannot break the curse, he will lose the ability to speak and live forever in this tortured state: not able to live the blameless but heartless life of a beast, not able to live the difficult but beautiful life of a man.
Anything to add?:
As you might suspect from the bio, this version of the Beast was taken to Walt Disney World after the wolf attack, but before the library-gifting scene and the events of Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas and Beauty and the Beast: Belle's Magical World.
The Beast's possibly being Vincent is a reference to the Disney Ever Notice website, where at one point some people argued that since 'Vincent" appeared in the stained glass, that was his name. (Actually, it's the phrase "Vincent qui se vincent" "he conquers who conquers himself").
The name is Adam is pretty low tier canon: to the best of my knowledge, the officially licensed "The D-Show" CD-ROM is the only place where his name is given as Adam. On the other hand, the audio commentary says he doesn't have one (throwing out names like Steve and Tyrone), Glen Keane says he never heard him given a name, and Dave Smith said there was no official name. This puts it in the same category as "Ahadi" and "Uru" for Mufasa and Scar's parents: a licensed but not quite official name, more valid than any fan-name, capable of getting overridden by future "more canon" projects, but currently for time being the best we got. So... basically this version's name was indeed Adam, unless (until?) Disney decides otherwise. 
One of the two thing I liked about the 2017 remake was that one commenter enjoyed the "Sun King" (that is, King Louis XIV) motifs in the Beast's prior life. Not sure if that's what the movie was going for, but some say that Beast's father was meant to actually be the real-life King Louis XIV. I didn't want it quite that close though, so that's why in this version he's an unspecified heir: definitely a direct descendant, but deliberately vague as to how many generations past. Building on that, since, like many Disney movie settings, Beast's castle is presumedly an idealized fictional location (like how in Lion King, there is no place in Africa with a jungle and desert that close to the savannah, nor a kopje that actually looks like Pride Rock). So I used a combo: Île-de-France is the real-life region where the real-llife Sun Kings lived, while "Dauphin" (literally 'dolphin') is the French term for the heir apparent; Le Petit Dauphin was Louis, Duke of Burgundy, the grandson of King Louis XIV. This both gives a nod to one of the previous Beauty and the Beast scripts, where the Beast is called a duke not a prince... and I thought dauphin sounds cool.
Per Glen Keane, the Beast also has the, uhm, blue behind of a mandrill, but that's a need to know basis. -.- (In my version, he doesn't even tell Belle that until after their first anniversary. It makes all the kids laugh and laugh though).
RP SAMPLE:
PAST TENSE ONLY. MUST BE ABOUT THE CHARACTER FOR WHOM YOU ARE APPLYING.
See Ronno
IF YOU ALREADY HAVE A CHARACTER WITH US, NO SAMPLE IS NEEDED; INSTEAD, PUT "SEE ____"
