Anton Robinson

[Guest]

Millwall squad?

Squad Number: 0

Position: Midfield

Place of Birth: Brent

Date Of Birth: 17/ 02/ 1986

Height: 6'0

Weight: 11st 6lbs

 

This Season

Appearances: 1(0)

Goals: 0

Yellow Cards: 0

Red Cards: 0

Minutes on Pitch: 52

[JohnKirby]

Anton Robinson

HTML by Will Franqui (wfranqui@nmsu.edu)

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Anton was a chemical engineer at a petrochemical plant until recently. He was not a very notable person, just another man in white coat and helmet busy checking the purity of certain compounds and living an unremarkable life. A serious accident happened when a large tank filled with partially refined oil became contaminated and exploded. Dozens of employees were killed or seriously injured, and a part of the plant collapsed into a raging inferno. Anton was nearly killed when a large pipe crashed down on him, trapping him inside the burning ruins. Almost by a miracle the fire-fighters managed to rescue him against all odds. He was in a coma for several weeks, badly hurt by the fumes and with severe burns. He was paralyzed from the waist down. Strangely, when he awoke he seemed not to be horrified with his state, but almost peaceful.

When Anton was trapped inside the raging inferno he had a vision. He saw the roaring flames, the boiling chemicals, the collapsing walls and the total destruction. In that moment he saw through all of them and saw what was behind it. He saw the Face of the Wyrm. And he fell in love. After leaving the hospital, he devoted himself to poetry to celebrate and worship the power he saw in his vision. Money was not a problem, since the company was forced to pay large amounts to survivors and next of kin in damages. Anton retired to his home, and started to write.

 

Anton's poetry isn't terribly good. Most normal people would think it quite morbid, but also rather boring. Endless lists of accidents, sprinkled with chemical and medical terms and odd metaphors. The few publishers he showed his poetry to politely rejected him, but Anton didn't care. He writes because he likes it, not because he expects anybody else to understand. While normal people find it somewhat boring and not very avant-garde, other beings understand it far better. Shortly after his second attempt to get published, he had a visit from three persons. These persons disturbed him, but he also felt something else. Perhaps kinship. They demanded to hear his poetry, and were quite violent. Their reaction to his Elegy to Dioxin was astounding; they started to rave and pray to something they called "the Wyrm". After that, Anton got a regular audience. Strange visitors arrive to hear his poetry, and they seem to appreciate it greatly. Sometimes they tell him stories, which he weaves into his poetry.

 

Anton is in fact a quite normal human being. He is not possessed by anything, and he has no special abilities. He is just a middle aged handicapped man, who writes bad poetry. The poetry isn't that special, except its subject. It has practically no effect on normal people, except boredom and maybe nausea at some of the themes. But any Garou will feel the presence of the Wyrm in his praise of death, entropy and corruption. The strength of his poetry is not its literary qualities, but his intense feeling for the Wyrm and its works. He is quite popular among the servants of the Wyrm, and copies of his poems are spread in secret.