Calvin Bates

Lyss — Offline
Common Black-footed Cat · Rogue

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Quick Stats

Name: Calvin Bates
Pronouns: He/Him
Age: 52 (April 20th)
Height: 6'2 (Average)
Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes: Brown
Blood Type: B Negative
Residence Location: Red Rock
Occupation Location: Other

Occupation: Food Truck Owner
Vehicle: Public Transit/Food Truck

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: Amber
Sex: Male
Species: Black-footed Cat
Level: Common
Group: Rogue
Rank: None
Role: None

Animal Description
- Compact. Don't call him small.
- A little thick. Don't call him chubby.
- Has a darkly spotted coat on a cream base, large eyes and circular ears.


Doesn't really give a shit about his appearance, but will keep himself relatively tidy so he doesn't scare customers away.
Has an array of inappropriate cooking aprons.
Always has a beard, feels naked without one. He's noticed it graying, but doesn't mind too much.




- Born to a large family in the swamps of Louisiana.
- As his siblings grew older, they moved away to seek green pastures, particularly after their parents died. Calvin remained.
- Met a woman in his early twenties and charmed her into marriage. They had a baby girl a year later, his absolute light.
- His refusal to move out of his verified shack in the middle of a bog to better their prospects at income was a chafing point that turned red and raw. His wife left him after five years, leaving his daughter with him.
- The pair got along just fine, remaining close up until until she graduated high school. She fell in with a bad crowd. Got a boyfriend, got high, got too high and overdosed.
- After his daughter's death, the piece of land he'd clung to held too many bad memories. Picking up, he left Louisiana without much in his wallet and without a plan. Camping out beneath an overpass one night, he was attacked in his tent and bitten by what he thought was a rabid cat.
- When the bite healed, he thought little of it. A victim of a hit and run, the Were who did the deed never sought him out, but others found him and showed him what was what -- not enough, but enough to get by.
- Managed to scrimp enough to afford his own food truck six months ago and rolled into Cordova.


Face Claim: Jeffrey Dean Morgan

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