Name: Timothy Holmes
Species: Human / Kanima
Born: 1896 
Citizenship: United Kingdom
Sex: Male
Height: 5'9"
Hair colour: Dirty blond
Eye colour: Hazel brown
Occupation: Former soldier in the British Armed Forces
Status: Deserter / Missing in combat
__________________ ____________________________________


 Timothy was born in Elbridge, Surrey, and was the firstborn son of Robert Xavier Holmes, a recently wealthy businessman standing at the forefront of the industrial revolution by founding one of the first canning factories in London. His mother, named Amelia, was a former seamstress who, now that the family had finally found fortune, was allowed a place more 'dignified for a woman', i.e. the home.
As for siblings, Timothy had two older sisters growing up with him, named Elizabeth and Gwyneth.
To say that Timothy's childhood was happy...well, that would be a lie, but to say that it was miserable, that would be exaggerating things by a fair bit. It was simply...complicated. It was well enough for the standards of the time. 
His father, now a respected man among high society, was absent for a large portion of his early years. Whenever he was at home, he would preach to Timothy the importance of being a man. E.g., he was not allowed to be with his sister and play with dolls as he wanted and was instead encouraged and indeed forced to engage in activities 'fitting for a boy'.  
He was put down his entire childhood, and forced to do things he found no enjoyment in. Despite this, there were times when he was happy, like when he painted alongside his mother or went against his father's wishes and played with dolls anyway, alongside his sisters, who themselves saw no wrong in letting him in on the fun. 
Eventually,  there came the time to put away the playthings and enter into his early teenage years, upon which he felt very different from the rest of his peers. Because while they were becoming entranced by the girls, talking and musing to each other about who they fancied, he remained utterly uninterested in the opposite sex. And he did not know what was wrong with him. He thought, though at first, that it was just a matter of time, that he simply had to grow a little bit more emotionally. And so, to not lose his group of friends, he feigned interest while waiting for that spark of lust to kick in. As time passed, however, around the time when he was 17, he did find an attraction, though to his shock...it was not towards the opposite gender. He was confused by these new, strange feelings as he looked at his mates in a different light. It wasn't instantly, of course, but eventually, he realised that he had found an interest in the same sex. He liked men, and he was terrified of that revelation.
If his friends somehow found out or his family found out, they'd all turn on him and hate him, almost perhaps as much as he now hated himself for feeling this way.
They couldn't find out about his homosexuality. He'd find a way to cure himself, to cleanse himself of sin. This he promised to himself.
And because of this internalised hatred, he shed his own kind self for a more stern, more 'manly' persona. A pretty much 180 change in personality. But of course, he didn't 'grow out of it, and he didn't find a 'cure'. And eventually, the temptation to give in to his emotions became too strong, and he had sex with an older man, a complete stranger.

Later overcome with guilt over what was considered in the eyes of the public as 'sinful', Timothy sought the confidential ear and holy counsel of Father Murdoch, the church priest to which his family had always attended.
Timothy confided in him, and Father Murdoch listened, saying unto Timothy, "If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them."
Timothy asked then if he should also be punished for what he had done.
"God have mercy on sinners. After all, he who is without sin may cast the first stone." Said back the preacher.
Timothy left, having found no sense of comfort in the house of God.
Sometime later, Timothy's father confronted him and revealed that he knew of his son's homosexuality, no doubt because Father Murdoch broke his vow of silence and revealed this. And to say that Robert was furious would be an understatement. Poor Timothy was not only verbally abused but beaten around the house, all while his mother looked on and did nothing. After all, a woman could do nothing, even if she had wanted to.
A month later, he was shipped off to fight in the Great War. He was supposed to have already been in it and would have had it not been for his father previously bribing the doctor to deem Timothy 'unfit for service' because of some made-up condition that would prevent him from combat. This was done to keep his one and only heir alive. But his father now had the doctor revoke his statement, a misdiagnosis, so Timothy could be shipped off to war to die. An excellent way to get rid of an unworthy heir and a degenerate sinful son.



The Kanima is a creature of vengeance that is not born out of the hard shell of an egg, nor birthed out of the warm comfort of a mother's womb. No, the Kanima is created in a number of different ways.
It is, in some ways, an abomination.

It can be 'born' when magic meant to transform the body goes wrong, like the bite of a werewolf or even that of a vampire. Specific rituals and spells are also said to be able to cause this aberration.
But no matter the intended outcome, something goes terribly wrong, and the transformation is corrupted. This is because of the transformed persons' inherent feeling that they lack a personal identity.
As a result, the kanima doesn't know what or who it is. It is confused by its own reflection.
The creature intentionally seeks out a Master, one to become enslaved by and form a bond with.
It is a creature of vengeance, so it will naturally only come to accept a master who has revenge at heart.
Though there is one condition that the Master is obligated to follow; the Kanima is not to be ordered to claim the life of an innocent. If this rule is violated, the master will slowly transform into a Kanima, and the two creatures will part ways, each seeking a new master. Lastly, the Kanima cannot become what it was meant to be until it has regained its identity and resolved whatever issue that created it.

For the most part, the person who is a Kanima will appear normal, though at certain particularly stressful times, or when the master so chooses, the person will start to transform into a monster, partially or fully. When a kanima is fully transformed, it becomes reptilian in appearance, with snake-like eyes, razor-sharp claws and teeth, and a dark-green scaley hide that acts like armour. Finally, it possesses a long and powerful prehensile tail which it uses for combat and balance. In this form it can climb vertical walls similar to a lizard and is frighteningly strong. It can heal from injuries that would kill most living beings, such as an arrow to the skull. It can even regrow lost limbs within a matter of hours. A Kanima's claws also secrete a potent neurotoxic venom that renders their victims paralysed for an extended period of time. Often this is administered via a slash to the back of the neck, though it can also spread simply by being in direct contact with the venom itself.


The Master is the one controlling the creature.

The Master can telepathically communicate with the creature, and he or she can sense their servant from miles away and speak through the Kanima itself.
The supernatural bond between the master and servant grows stronger over time, influencing the kanima's behaviour. This means that the phobias, thoughts, and even the personality of the Master, will eventually be duplicated by the Kanima. A poor imitation, as the Kanima itself, is not capable of speech without the master speaking directly through it.



Notes of notice;

I have been writing for 10+ years. I may be picky about who I write with.

I suffer from bipolar disorder, which sometimes affects the quality of the replies or the time it takes for me to reply.

My main account is Dracula, and I welcome those characters who may not vibe with Timothy to try there. 











After the death of his first master, who had a powerful enough will to override his own and make his existence into little more than a dream for over 100 years, Timothy wakes up in 2017 not knowing anything or anyone. Luckily, he happens upon a drunk Zach, who no doubt will introduce him to the comforts of modern life. Perhaps once death and destruction do not follow in their step every fifth minute or so. 



I am open to new roleplay threads

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  • Gratitude outshines the dose of guilt Zach feels for not completing his homework. He's too scattered to sit down and work his way through it himself. Feeling shy about it, Zach gives a small smile and a nod. As small as a gesture it may be, it's touching that Timothy went out of his way to ease some of the weight off Zach's shoulders. Somewhat embarrassed, he mutters a soft thanks and clears his throat. It's enough to ease the sleepy roughness in Zach's voice.

    Confused by Timothy's interest in the cellphone, Zach holds it out from his body and takes a good look at it himself. It is plain and older than some other phones but works just the same. He slides his fingers over the screen, unlocks it, and passes the device to Timothy. "Wanna play with it?" He asks, expression soft and inviting.

    If Timothy chooses to take the phone and look through it, he'll discover an array of apps. Two of which are games; Candy Crush and Pokemon Go. In the gallery, Zach has a large collection of photos accumulated over the last two years. Most of which are blurry and capture several individuals. There's also a long list of contacts and multiple strings of conversations between Zach and others should Timothy get curious.

    When the focus is placed on Timothy's state of undress, Zach finds it suddenly difficult to make eye contact. He glances to the ceiling and moves around to retrieve a set of clothes for the other man. Sweatpants, because he's confident these will fit Timothy and a plain black shirt. Zach, with his back to the other, changes into dark jeans and a navy button-up.


    It's a short walk, some distance further from the campus, when they reach their destination. Zach knocks on the front door of an ordinary family home before he opens the door and invites himself inside. He waves a hand at Timothy to gesture him inside too. Wading through the hallway and a door, Zach finds a young man sitting on the sofa. He half-heartedly waves at Zach then nods at Timothy.

    "It's my one day off, you know."

    "Thanks! This is him," Zach says, moving behind Timothy and gently pushing him forward as if he were presenting a gift.

  • Cute.

    Zach banishes the intrusive thought from his mind. He looks Timothy up and down, a seriousness filtering between the sleepy frown he wears. When he speaks, his voice is rough from sleep. "Morning. How are you feeling?" 

    As for himself, he feels more ready to take on the world than he had last night. Although the events at the hospital feel as unreal as that night on the snowy mountain, it's an improvement. Zach looks at his hands and doesn't feel they belong to someone else. He looks at Timothy and is grateful for how grounding it can be to not be in his bedroom alone. Whether Timothy asks about Zach's well-being or not, he announces it out loud for his own sake. "I'm good. Tired, but good."

    He slips out from next to Timothy and stretches his arms high above his head. Relieving the tension in his shoulders gives him the illusion of shaking off last night. Baby steps. Zach stands, wanders toward his desk, then does a double-take at the homework he definitely did not complete. Uhh...

    "Was I dreaming last night or were you, like.." he trails off, turns to Timothy, and makes an amusing attempt at looking frightening. He bares his teeth awkwardly, holds his hands up like claws, then sighs, "like, some lizard." It might have been a funny dream had it not been disturbingly real. Zach is frowning, clearly at war with himself in his head. Nothing about that memory feels like a dream, but there's no way that what he saw was real, was it?

    At that thought, his gaze shifts to the corner of the room where an imposing shadow lingers quietly.

    Suddenly, his face lights up with an idea. "Let's see my friend! He's super smart and I'm sure he'll know what to do. He can help us." Without waiting for any sign of agreement, he's already reaching for his cell phone and scrolling through his contacts. He calls a number and waits. There's a click. "Hey! It's me, I have a favor -- hello?" Zach frowns and looks at his phone. It confirms that he's been hung up on. "Bastard." Without any shame, Zach calls again. From the tone of the conversation the friend on the other line eventually reluctantly agrees. Not without some shameless begging on Zach's end first.

  • By the time Timothy emerges from the shower, Zach is asleep. Lulled into sleep by the hand of exhaustion, he'd hardly lasted five minutes of wakefulness before he was gone to the world. Zach is still throughout the night. Nothing significant intercepts his dreams despite the disturbing events of the day. If anything, his sleep is peaceful.

    Later joined by Timothy, Zach turns toward the other body. Sighing softly, both of his arms wrap around the other man and pull him close. He shuffles lower into the covers, seeking more warmth and a comfortable position. Zach stops only when his cheek presses to Timothy's shoulder.


    Morning light filters through the open gap between black curtains. It casts a soft warmth upon Zach's arm that has moved out from the covers but remains draped over the man next to him. Half asleep, he sighs and squeezes Timothy's body tighter for a second or two. A moment passes. Then another. Zach's eyes open suddenly, full of alertness. His mind processes the events of the previous day. Realizing just who he has coiled up in his bed, Zach lifts his head slowly so as not to rouse the other man. He looks at Timothy and tries to untangle himself from the other without waking him.

    A loud bang on his door startles Zach. He snaps his gaze to the bedroom door and hears his heart hammering loud in his chest for reasons unknown. "Wakey, wakey!" A voice calls mockingly, followed by another knock. The door never opens. Zach hears the sound of receding footsteps disappear down the hallway, then releases a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

  • It's disorientating once they reach the safety of Zach's dormitory room. What had occurred at the hospital has left an ugly wound somewhere inside Zach that he wishes to furiously wash from his skin. And yet, his room looks no different. He feels changed from the inside out, and it confuses him as to why the rest of his life hasn't also changed. Remaining somewhere near the door, he stares blankly at Timothy who sits at the edge of Zach's bed. Turns, and looks at the wall where a poster from a superhero movie sits. Looks at the calendar marked with assignments and reminders.

    He feels numb. Leaning into that feeling is a pleasant experience given the alternative is recalling the way Timothy had ripped a man's jaw off his face.

    "I need a shower," he says to the air, ignoring Timothy's rattled expression. Now in the safety of home, the adrenaline driving Zach forward has worn off. A heaviness drapes over his shoulders and the emotional whiplash he's gone through has him feeling exhausted. There's no time spent further comforting the other man. Zach walks across the room, picks up a towel, and wordlessly slips into the connecting bathroom. 


    It's only after ensuring his eyes aren't red and cheeks aren't puffy that he emerges from the shower. He still feels dirty, but the smell of the sewer has disappeared from his hair. Zach has opted for something more comfortable to wear; sweatpants and a plain shirt. Fresh towel in hand, he nudges Timothy. "You should shower too," he offers gently. "Then.." he pauses for a moment, clearly hesitant, "let's sleep. I don't want to think about today. We'll do something tomorrow, okay?"

    Whatever Timothy's answer, Zach dips to the bed and slides under the covers. He's quiet and unmoving.

  • Oh. You're... a lizard.




    Mothyy lizard babiee 

  • My baby Boi has his own profile?!

  • Hiss hiss, mate.

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Timothy Holmes left a comment on Global Announcements
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"Hiss hiss, mate."
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