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now playing? breathe by the prodigy einführung
the introduction coming. estatística
the statistics
Scott-Laurence Adler von Richtoven] Birth Name
Komm von Richtoven ] Known Name Komm, Lars, K.V.R, S.L.V.R (Silver) ] Nicknames Vohn Rikh-t'ven] Pronunciation (surname) 21 / 07 / 1978 (29) ] D.O.B German / Spanish / English ] Heritage Deep, gravelly German / English; quite cat-like ] Accent Dresden, Germany ] Home City Spiteful, physical, patronising, resourceful, hurtful, courageous, expectant ] Personality Professional Car Thief / Bounty Hunter ] Occupation Straight ] Orientation Kypher / others back in Germany, England, Spain ] Family Skhul (car repairs) ] Associates You wish, doll. ♥ ] Infatuation Learning new languages, car-jacking ] Pastimes Many ear piercings, prominent scars around eyes ] Marks B- ] Blood Type Well educated, strong, shows true intentions ] Positives Militaristic, territorial, imposing ] Negatives da / niet
the preferences
Komm is very much a person that revolves around his needs more than his wants. And anything that he wants, he keeps the thought close to himself, making it very hard to determine what Komm is pleased - or displeased - with. In terms of his needs, he likes all the gizmos and gadgets that will help in any kind of spywork. There is both an intrinsic and curiousity factor in these. As well as gadgets, Komm is very much into weaponry. With an arsenal of revolvers, snipers, brass knuckles, spiked gloves, knives, vials of poison, swords and daggers (among other things), he shows a fetish for weapons...
Then, there are those kinds of wants and likes that he keeps hidden. Komm likes temperate to hot places with both the population and technology to be recognised as a large city, but still has not fallen under the cheap, commercial label; so the City of Tobia (where he resides) is his favourite location to be. Its desert-esq lifestyle is perfect. Komm also likes to make people feel intimidated, scared, not worthy and uncomfortable. Perhaps it's his height, cold stare, cat-like German voice or the way he will get right close into your face to mock you; the way he's so able to invade other people's personal space and make it seem so streamlined and easy and still seeming regal. There's also the lifestyle basics. He enjoys grunge, industrial and rock music like Nine Inch Nails, the Chemical Brothers, Linkin Park, 30 Seconds to Mars, Korn, the Prodigy, Moby and, interestingly enough, Hans Zimmer. He likes Turkish and Vietnamese food (yes, including fried bugs). He likes to wear his old DPCU trousers and dogtags. He wears a thumbring constantly. He loves the internet. He absolutely adores learning new languages and is currently taking Japanese and Advanced Russian lessons. Oh, and he also likes stealing cars. That's a big point.
Therefore, after seeing what he does like, it is extraordinarily easy to see what Komm loathes. He hates the cold; it reminds him of places like Germany and England, where he left his family and past behind. It's not that he hates those things; just that they were things that he considers to be a waste of time and effort. Needless to say, when it (rarely) snows in Tobia, he's in a foul mood. Speaking of cold things, he also hates cold and personality-deprived personalities. He says it's because it's harder to make them uncomfortable, but it's common knowledge that it's because he wants to be the only heartless one in the scene! And on the other end of the personality spectrum, he doesn't like those that think life's a box of chocolates. Because those people have obviously never roughed it...
Let me put it down straight: Komm hates strangers. Anyone who's new to him, he finds it hard to relate to them until they prove their worth. Perhaps it's because he's well aware that in this day and age, double-crossing is commonplace and he wants either complete devotion, or none at all. He wants to know if you're friend or foe. Likewise, he also doesn't appreciate brown-nosers. Hey, who does? Getting into life essentials, pop music, including "radio music", really irks him. Whoever decided Justin Timberlake, Avril Lavigne and Rihanna were good musicians should be shot, drawn and quartered, then incinerated. The same should go for anyone who likes Panic! at the Disco, but they should walk over hot coals first. Yes, he hates that band that much. He also doesn't like commercial labels. Like Converse shoes. He hates takeaway, and anyone who likes McDonalds or KFC should have a similar fate to that mentioned above...he doesn't like chatspeak either. He doesn't like writing, or repeating himself. He hates maths. He hates drugs. ("Why bother? There are so many more fun ways to ruin your life.") And he hates the government, the army and large businesses. He's a soft anarchist. He doesn't really appreciate organised religion, and thinks that people should just chill on the God debate. bin ich...
am i... aujourd'hui
today... 2 September 2007
I left Tobia a week ago and I've finally arrived in that city that Skhul lives in. The name of the place evades me. Tobia should build an air runway - a week by bus travelling through the most god forsaken parts in the world is pathetic for such a large city as Tobia.
Anyway, the city was...how I remember it. Nothing ever changes in suburbia like it does out in the desert. It's always grey and industrial. So, I went to that underground bar that no-one knows about except for the best thieves, drug barons and gangsters around. Who should I find there, but bloody Skhul? That rat. He doesn't deserve to go there. He's never worked a hard day in his life. What's more, he brings his new girlfriend (how many times he's had a 'new' one, I'm not sure) and flounces around like he owns the place. Prat.
Enough about that good-for-nothing waste of breath. I've located another Koenigsegg CCX and a beefed up Mini in downtown Florida that look like they could use a new owner. Two of my favourite cars in my least favourite state of America. I hate the sun.
~S.L.V.R fabula
the story prologue
It was a scandal, and they splashed the news across the front page of the newspapers like it was an entertaining sport. It was as if no-one thought there was a real person that provided them with their daily serving of celebrity gossip. It was sickening, and that's what made the hatred boil right from the middle of his heart outwards until he was consumed by anger and hated the world for intervening with his life. He did not dwell and fester and brood about the Incident. If no-one had noticed about the one little slip he made in his career, he would have moved on. But there was coverage for days, weeks - months even - and wherever he went, the eyes and stories followed him like a storm cloud hanging over his head. He could not be rid of the masses of reporters.
Well, he could be blamed for his own demise. Scott-Laurence Adler von Richtoven was a bad egg right from the start. Perhaps a more convenient viewpoint of his story would be before the Incident. Born to any normal set of loaded parents, (German and English with Spanish mixed in there) he always had that imposing and scornful air around him as though he was the best thing since sliced bread. He called himself VR between the time he left his home country of Germany to the cold and desolate shores of England. VR were initials for his surname; still calls himself that to this day. Truthfully, he loathed his birth name and as soon as he could, he would change it. chapter one.
the school
VR was sent to a private boarding school by the name of Caisley College, but not before going to one of the government schools. The two schools were at completely different ends of the spectrum of education; the government school instilled all kinds of survival tactics of how to live in one of the roughest, most bully-infested grounds you could come across. He learnt nothing in those years except for means of defence and ways to evade classes and bend the rules as much as possible. It was no wonder that when high school loomed ahead, VR wasn't impressed by the equally looming gates of Caisley College.
To put it simply, Caisley was meant for the wealthier edge of the population. It was clear by the colonnaded buildings and neatly trimmed, green courtyards. The fountains that spewed forth clean water also seemed to spit out superiority. The dormitories – it was a boarding school, after all – were neatly kempt by the self-righteous students who all seemed to be straight-A kids. The majority of the teachers were intolerably pompous and expected silence in their classes with as little discussion as possible. Uniforms were to be kept in pristine condition. Once VR turned up as the new kid on the block with his tacky, grotty primary education, a mouth full of foul words, low-slung jeans and hoodie, it was a classic scenario of one-against-them-all.
Half an hour later, I'm standing before the gates of Caisley College, bag by my side and mum driving off in the distance. Jesus bloody Christ. This place has 'snob' written all over it. There's no way I'm ever going to fit in. Ah well. It's time to make some noise around here…
VR entered that school and the first impression everyone had of him was that he didn't belong, never would, and would try to change the world around him to suit him better, and that's what he did. He made friends; he made enemies. He pulled pranks without getting caught. Hell, there were so many places to hide in the school, they would never catch him. He shut little kids in lockers, short-sheeted the beds, snuck into the teachers' common room and stole wallets, scaled the rooftops and purposely made holes in the roof for rain to seep through, dunnyflushed people, dealt out wedgies and spread rumours and mixed in alcohol with the teachers' evening drinks in the dining halls. He wasn't evil; he was just having a bit of harmless fun. However, everyone knew he was doing those things, and it was a different story. Without evidence, he was as free as a bird with full reign over Caisley.
chapter two.
the headmaster Don't get me wrong, he didn't loathe the school, and he wasn't compelled to break school rules simply because he didn't like the rich life. In his opinion, it was the most fantastic time he'd ever had in his life. The school was relaxed; calm. And there wasn't any nastiness – except for what he'd caused. At one stage, he'd thought of conforming and becoming normal. He'd actually thought of becoming one of the crowd, and to not pull pranks. But he soon tossed that thought aside. Although he turned up late (or not at all) for class, he enjoyed his lessons in English, Science and especially the languages. As it was a posh school, there were teachers for French, German, (he already knew that one) Latin, Spanish, (he also knew a fair deal of that; he was ¼ Spanish, after all) Ancient Greek and, interestingly enough, Indonesian. He took the French, Latin and Indonesian and found a love of languages. It's hard to imagine VR paying attention.
However, one day, he pushed it a bit too far with his pranks and was caught by a video camera made especially for him, right near the teachers' common room. He was called into the Headmaster's office.
Mr von Richtoven, you know why you're here, I trust." I look him straight in the eye. Well, old man, I'm sure as hell not stupid. "Yeah?" I say as though he's stupid. His left eye twitches as I pick up another paper on his desk. How comical. However, he doesn't say anything about it and continues, using his patronising term of 'Mr von Richtoven' when he's talking to me. Mr von Richtoven, your…antics…of late have come to our attention. You didn't notice, but we installed a camera into the staff common room. Now –" I cut him off with a raised eyebrow. "Look sir – "(we're to call all members staff sirs or ma'ams) "—did you even watch the playback? I waved at the camera." Gray's eye twitched again. I pick up the magazine I was looking at earlier. I'd never noticed that so many of the founders were German. Perhaps I could take that as a way out. Gray continued after my interjection. "Now, your pranks and absences in class time have not gone unnoticed and while you are constantly getting good marks in your language classes, we cannot help but feel that you are doing more damage to the school and to yourself than good." At this, I knew what was coming. I wish he'd just cut to the chase; I've got things to do, places to be, people to flush…"and the Board of Studies has come to the conclusion, however unfortunate, that you need to be expelled from this school for your own good." I looked at him straight in the eye. I have this strange ability to make anyone feel uncomfortable without even trying and even he, the head of the school, looks away. I'm just biding my time; I need to think of something fast to keep me in the school. Then it hits me like a speeding train. "Mr Gray," he looks up. Did he think he concluded this little one-sided discussion? "Sir," I'm sugar-coating it here. "I don't think you know who I am." He looks blankly at me. "You're Scott-Laur—No…that's my name, who I am, who my family is." He's all ears now. "You don't understand the gravity of this situation. You see, sir, my grandfather's grandfather – Bertie WeißBürger, I believe – was one of the chief sponsors of Caisley College back in the day." I held the magazine up to Gray to see the name. Just in case he forgot the name even though he was the one who pounded the glorious names into the students in the first place. "And my family continues to fund this school today. Sir, if you expel me, I have little doubt that my family would stop funding." I smiled my cat-like smile. It was working. I was lying through my teeth and he couldn't tell. This man, our headmaster, wouldn't know one German name from another. They all sounded the same to him, so he'd buy my story. So, I walked out of that office less than ten minutes later with little other than a verbal smack on the hand and a million dollar smile. If I could own the headmaster, I could own anyone in the school. chapter three.
leaving school das Mädchen
the girl soci
associatiates 
Skhul is an odd one. He's the one everyone either adores or loathes depending on your personality. Myself, I hate the rat. He's the whiniest, insecure, most two-faced problematic scumbag I've not had the pleasure of knowing. He and I would be at each others' throats had it not be for his cowardice...I think you could probably jab a finger into his side and he'll start squealing like a girl! He's a soft kind of kid in essence - you can do anything to him and he won't say no. And I'm not saying that in a positive way, either.
My lack of faith in his character aside, however, I find him a quintessential and indispensible part of my life. As you may or may not know, quite a significant part of my life is dedicated to stealing expensive cars, and then selling or racing them back for profit. Of course, loads of cars don't come in mint condition - some really expensive cars have so much wrong with them that's not visible to the untrained eye (and Skhul only has one eye, so he goes pretty well). That's where Skhul comes in - as much as I hate his guts, there's no denying his abilities in mechanics. It seems that once he enters any kind of garage, he's in his prime and has so much ease ordering everyone about. Well, except for me. He's scared of me.
Skhul is basically the one that not only fixes up the paintjob, but rips out car guts and replaces them with all manner of engines and parts that make the car better than before. He also puts in NOS to our racing cars. You can be guaranteed that he'll do a good job, and the really funny thing is that he doesn't ask for loads of money for it. Hah! He's a prodigy in being a grease monkey but will put up with the cruelly low money you give him. What a pushover.
mi trabajo
my workjob. l'information supplémentaire
extra information locations + extra crap here segredos e mentiras
secrets and lies アートワーク
works of art Ordered Newest to Oldest. Paste the code or drag the image into your URL box to view at full size. on his own two feet
 layout v.1  rough colour concept for layout v.1  first anthro. supah ugly~ early steps  playing around with his looks.  (failing) to make a reference...he looks like a badger. LOL  no comment. :)  first ever idea of komm! looks evil. from the fans no fans? awh. ): referencias
references domande e risposte
quesions and answers die Preise
awards voltado
come back 50x50  81x33  abite iam
leave now 
 
hey ther mi naem is komm. scott-laurence von richtoven but u cn just call me komm hehe lol k? this is heading 1. this is heading 2. this is heading 3. this is heading 4. psss hey you! this page is like, SO totally in progress. :) :) :)
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