SMOKES, WARREN

[warren]

HELLO MY NAME IS WARREN SMOKES AND I AM TWENTY-ONE YEARS OLD. I'M A INCUBUS AND I WAS BORN ON 21/NOVEMBER/1988 IN IRELAND. MY NATIONALITY IS IRISH. PEOPLE SAY I LOOK LIKE ZACK WARD. THEY ALSO SAY THAT I AM SELFISH, LOYAL, AND MOODY. TO BE HONEST, I'M BEING PLAYED BY WARWICK.

CODEWORD: ivory

BY PERMISSION OF THE ADMINS:

Powers
It is not yet known how Warren came into contact with his powers, but they first emerged at puberty. Over the course of almost a decade, he has gained enormous amount of practice. The only problem is that they require sexual energy. Another unknown reason as that the energy gained from sexual acts or erotica seem to be like pure sugar. Without it he is quite drowsy and irritable.

Energy Drain: This talent allows Warren to remove some of his lover's energy, or "life force". It cannot kill, but if Warren is not careful, he can leave his parter very weak. This is the most frequent method by which he "charges" his batteries, if you will. Other incubi and succubi are immune to this.

Dream Walking: With this power, Warren can enter another person's dream with or without their permission. This is his alternate method of gaining energy when no physical body is available. Most often he will subtly twist the dream into an erotic state. It is not as effective as his first talent, and other incubi and succubi are immune. This can also be used if someone is in a coma to try and reach them buried deep in their subconscious.


ROLE PLAY SAMPLE:

Warren crossed his arms as he slouched further down into the hard desk. He had been trapped in Art History for nearly two whole hours with a migraine that gnawed at the backs of his eyeballs. His gray hooded jacket seemed to do nothing against the frigid air coming from one of the vents (he had to admit, during the winter it was great) and he watched one of his silver rings slide further down his thumb.

He silently stared at a moody painting as rendered by Van Gogh, grateful that his black earbuds were easily hidden in the dark room as the narrator nasal voice droned on and on. Warren hadn't been able to gain any energy concerning his race's sexual predation simply because he underestimated the power of culture in the southern portion of the United States. He could easily have found a prostitute somewhere in the city, but the load of art homework he had piled up had allowed him to choose against feeding. Rather stupid, but then again, young adults are not always known for their wise decisions.
"MR. SMOKES!"

Warren jerked his head up, red eyebrows arched in the classic image of surprise. "While I'm glad your social life hasn't interfered with your studies, it would do you well to turn that ungodly noise you call music off and PAY ATTENTION!" His upper lip quirked in distaste as he turned Godsmack off and stuffed the small iPod into his jacket's kangaroo pouch.

"Sorry Mr. Avery. I had a long night last night," Warren offered as an half-assed excuse, not expecting it to ever fly with the hard-nosed professor. And he was right. Several remarks were made about his lewd habits, any of which the young Incubus could have reported to the Academic Dean, but didn't bother.

The last thirty minutes dragged on, each with the grace of having one's toenails slowly removed. Warren doodled an obscene picture aimed at Mr. Avery, crumpling it up and letting it fall to the floor as he joined the class in the mad rush to escape having to clean the room's black board.

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