Geist De Luca

[*]Nicknames: Geist (pronounced like Poltergeist)
[*]Gender: Male
[*]Birthplace: Edmonton, Alberta, Canada
[*]Species: Werewolf
[*]Class: Healer
[*]Birthday: June 16, 1985
[*]Occupation: General Practitioner Physician, Sports Medicine Physical Therapist, Masseuse
[*]Body Type: Lean muscle mostly, gym type body
[*]Height: 5 feet, 9 nine inches
[*]Weight: 165 lbs
[*]Apparent Age: early twenties
[*]Actual Age: 34
[*]Hair: Light Brown, it lightens with the sun
[*]Eyes: Sea Green
[*]Handedness: Right
[*]Scars/Tattoos: Arms and Back are adorned with tattoos
[*]Relationship Status: Single
[*]Sexual Orientation: Straight
[*]Personality: Calm under pressure, excellent bedside manner, attentive, intelligent, protective
[*] Resides In: Currently imprisoned in a fighting arena being forced to heal the gladiators
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In the beginning we were all carefree with no worries in the world other than do we have food, and do we have a place to sleep? If the answers were yes to both of those questions, then all was right in the universe.

I was born into a pack of, for lack of a better term, domesticated wolves. We weren't the scavengers like most of the werewolves I have come across. We belonged to a pack, yes. But the pack lived among humans. If you couldn't afford a place to live, you could behave like a stray dog and find a soft-hearted human to care for you until things turned around for you. It might sound pathetic, but it's called survival in a place where eight months out of the year the conditions are too harsh for survival, even with a thick fur coat.

I was one of the luckier wolves in our pack. My parents were educated and able to find and keep professional jobs, which kept us out of other people's homes. A problem we were constantly facing was people from our pack constantly trying to live with us. Having constant house guests meant I lived my life on the living room couch while my, would be room, was taken over by families needing shelter from the murderous conditions. Because this was the reality of our pack life, I studied hard in school. I forfeit dating and playing sports so that I could focus on my books. I got into an accredited Sports Medicine program when I was a freshman in college, which helped with I applied to medical school. After eight years of having no life, I graduated with a medical degree.

I worked for hospitals for a few years as I built my reputation and clientele. I saved and saved and was finally able to open my own private practice. I was very popular with the local high schools and colleges as I really enjoyed taking care of the athletes. That was a short-lived dream. A few years after opening my private practice I sold it to a local hospital and took off on the road.

I had been sharked by a MMA company who were looking for doctor's who specialized in sports medicine and orthopedics. I was offered a spot with the company to care for the fighters and thus left Canada in the dust.

This was the perfect job for me. I rehabilitated some of the most prominent fighters in the world in my state of the art facility. I was given the liberty to continue my education so I would always be up to date with all the latest techniques and technology surrounding sports medicine. I thrived. I learned. I perfected my craft. Then I was stolen.

I was taken right off the street as I strolled home one evening. One second, I was pondering what I wanted for dinner, the next I was knocked unconscious with chloroform. I awoke chained to a wall with silver and I was given a choice.

I could either: Medically care for the slaves, gladiators, pregnant wolves, and slavers themselves in my own medical bay that I was able to design or become a slave myself and see how I far in the arena. Since I am not really a fighter, at least not compared to some of these blood thirsty wolves, I chose to run the medical and save the lives of the unfortunate souls that were brought here.

I am not proud to admit that while working in the medical bay for the slavers I created a serum that would heal a werewolf three times faster than if they were left to their own devices. The reason for this serum was so they could fight the wolves as hard as they wanted and still sell them for top dollar the next day. The problem with the serum was that it caused high levels of pain, raised blood pressure, dehydration, and sleeplessness. Basically, it caused the body to fight itself as it healed. Most of the time I was allowed to monitor any patient that received the serum so I could ensure the least amount of trauma to the body while it healed. Multiple saline bags on high drip to keep the patient hydrated. Constant cardiac monitoring to gage when their blood pressure needed to be controlled for them. I am not proud of how many wolves died on my table as they were already too damaged to handle the extensive pain the serum caused. This is a sin I know I will pay for with my life one day...and I will deserve it.