Ivo Wickens

Kim — Offline
Common Coyote · Rogue

About Me

Quick Stats

Name: Ivo Wickens
Pronouns: He/Him/His
Age: 60 (4/6/1958)
Height: 6'5 (Thin)
Hair: Gray
Eyes: Light Brown
Blood Type: AB Positive
Residence Location: Red Rock
Occupation Location: Other

Occupation: Sanitation
Vehicle: 1970 Dark Green Ford F250

Psychic Stats

Age Abilities Appeared:
Eye Color: N/A
First Ability: None
Second Ability: None
Third Ability: None

Power Description

Vampire Stats

Age Turned:
Eye Color: N/A
Level: N/A
First Ability: None
Second Ability: None
Animal Form: N/A
Group: N/A
Rank: None
Role: None

Power Description

Were Stats

Age Turned: 48
Eye Color: Yellow
Sex: Male
Species: Coyote
Level: Common
Group: Rogue
Rank: None
Role: None

Animal Description
Rustic copper fur, streaked with gray. Perhaps a telling of his human age. Can be a bit seen as a bit thin in some spots, small scarring just underneath the missing patches against his hind legs. His tail, once bushy would now be described as thinning, a bit of a hobbled together mess but no less impressive. A sign that he has been through quite a lot, both in age and other.


Grizzled and haggard yet still managing to be imposing. His skin seems to be almost leathery, flecked with darkened lines from working out in the sun and being an all around grunt man for most of his life. Age has taken it's toll but he seems to wear it with a sense of pride and accomplishment. His hair is long, almost solid gray and reaching the middle of his back if not swept up in any way, which he rarely does. Stringy and thick at the same time, as if he never really cared how it looked to begin with. His hands are calloused and rough, not an inch on him unworked.


His loyalty is as fierce as his temperament to strangers, Ivo has never been afraid to speak his mind, the repercussions be damned. If it's on his mind to say, it will be said. Gruff undertones can give way to something more close to a fatherly affection if the right circumstances are met. He tends to want to remain in a more relaxed position most of the time though his teeth aren't afraid to make themselves known should they be called for.


Growing up in Colorado always had it's ups and downs. His parents were poor and thus by extension, so was he. When he turned 13, he began helping his father in a small garage that saw a few returning customers every few weeks. Mostly because the town was small and income was quite hard to come by. Some paid out of pity while others merely came for brief chats and the stash of alcohol that he knew his father to have hidden away behind a stack of old tires.

At 17, he landed his first real paying job sacking groceries for a local market but people hadn't ever been something he was interested in. He did it for the paycheck and beyond that, he found himself in other activities.

At 23 he found a beautiful girl who he had enticed with his roguish charm and ways, though it didn't last. They went their separate ways roughly four years later.

32 saw a change in his personality and way of life. He had been jobless for a few months after having worked as a hired hand for various people, doing whatever it was they didn't wish to dirty their own hands with. Running sewer lines. Digging up septic tanks. Construction. Anything that could give him a solid paycheck and food to stock his fridge with.

At 39 he was offered a full time job working sanitation, cleaning up the roadkill that the highways and roads claimed as their own. It was work and he had never once complained about it. Up at dawn and out well past sunset, it was a life he was used to. Being alone had it's charm and he lived in the moment. Wake up. Shower. Clothes. Food. Out on the roads. It felt free to him. He didn't have anyone to report to, just a tally and a single page work of paperwork describing what he cleaned and where he picked it up from.

On the eve of his 48th birthday, out on a late call one night about a large buck, bloated and rotting in the middle of a lone stretch of road, he had brought his tools and prepared for a night of heavy lifting and a smell that never seemed to fully leave his nose. What he hadn't expected was to find competition there. He had dealings with wild animals before and coyotes were no different. Usually the lights and sound sent them running but this one had been different. The moment he got out of his truck and approached the carcass, there had been a flurry of teeth, lashing at his arms and aiming for his throat. He had killed it but not after a violent struggle that left him with wounds that hurt too damn much to be ignored. His right arm had been damn near torn to shreds and claw marks traveled down his chest.

He did the best he could on the road to patch himself up but by the time he got back into town a few hours later, the wounds had all but closed on their own. He had never put faith or stock into things that went bump in the night.. But his first full moon would change all of that.

Now at 60, he has learned a lot about the beast within him and it's cravings and needs. Though the full moon offers it's own challenges and whims, every other day he finds himself still doing small jobs in and around his home in Red Rock. There's a peace he has now with everything that happened to him. At first he was angry, now it's merely acceptance for what he is.


Face Claim: Patrick Petitjean

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