Fantasy Demonic Re:Possession (CS)

[Soviet Panda]

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• Employee Equipment and Status

• Appearance: (Whatever works for you works for me)
  Name:
  Age at death:
  Cause of death: (Remember, violent deaths.)
  Life before death: (Who were you before you signed up to work at Hell? This is mostly for me to gauge your rp abilities and work out possible character specific subplots.)
• 
  Horns:
  
  Spoiler: Horns information

  Horns will be described by two simple statements about their size and complexity. Size is related to the raw power while complexity is their innate control over said power. If you're gonna have large, awe-inspiring horns, I expect for you to take that into consideration for the rest of the cs.
  
  Sizes are
  

  1. Small; More like nubs than actual horns, these are easily hidden beneath a hat or long hair.
  2. Normal; Your average size of horns that can't really be hidden unless one is willing to wear a ridiculous hat.
  3. Large; Large horns denote great raw power, though getting through doors and other narrow places becomes much, much harder

  Grandeur
  

  1. Simple; They're just regular ol' horns, nothing to special about them.
  2. Fancy; Getting a little bit more complex, they often form shapes you do not expect horns to make.
  3. Magnificent; Often where multiple horn types (ie ram and elk) mix.
  4. Awe-inspiring; Even to a trained eye it is hard to tell where one horn ends and another begins, such is the fluidity of awe-inspiring horns.
  Time working for Hell: (I'm going to want mostly junior employees, so about century is the cutoff.)
  Harvesting Tool: (what you use to collect souls. Scythes, sickles, and other various farming equipment of old.)
  Weapon: (Souls, especially of more feral creatures, don't like to go. And though they can't die now, they can still be subdued.)
  Strenghts:
  Weaknesses:

 

[Axeykins]

Appearance:

Name: Johnathan Loir
Age at death: 25

Cause of death:
many, many, many gunshots.

Life before death:
No nonsense, devoted, workaholic ,Johnathan was a secret agent for a covert spy division with no particular alliance unless the scales needed to be tipped by a buyer. Never having a name or face to any regular people in the world. Only one or two regular citizen friends, even a lover and eventual fiancee after one particular incident. Though far outweighing those, he had a looot of enemies. Very big enemies, even his own father as one. Not as if it even mattered. He only went where he was told and did as told no questions asked lest he have a nice 'chat' with the head honcho to bet set straight again. Lot of good that did in the end as dear old dad showed him personally how a Tommy gun works.

Horns:

Rather simple backwards facing goat horns. Only about 5 maybe 6 inches in length. Ebony in color and with a lightly polished appearance.
​

Time working for Hell:
Only 5 years now.

Harvesting Tool:
A simple scythe. (He's not the most fun type.)

Weapon:
A pair of handguns always at his side.

Strengths:
Intelligent, clever, able to think quickly on his feet, great accuracy, loyalty.

Weaknesses:
Very unwilling to break from the rules/commands of superiors, takes a lot of things too seriously, loyalty, bad tempered.

 

[CrowOuttaHell]

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• 
  
  
  Name: Daniel Walker (Nicknamed Danny by colleagues)
  Age at Death: 25
  Cause of Death: Overpressure and shrapnel from an exploded building.
  Life Before Death: Daniel Walker was the only son of Alfred Walker, a fireman, and Pauleen Walker, a baker. He grew up in a fairly quiet neighborhood- white picket fences, small houses, neighbors that make it their sworn duty to say good morning to every person walking down the street while watering their plants, the usual. While Alfred and Pauleen tried their best to raise Danny as a nice, well-adjusted young lad, the boy soon started to seek more thrilling delights. Like rough-housing and sports. And stealing an occasional candy bar from old Mister Duffrey's candy store.
  
  Elementary rolled around and Danny had...for lack of a better way to describe it, embraced the "tough guy" lifestyle. Most of the time he was the bully, not the bullied. He was an active kid, playing sports almost all the time. Despite his behavioral problems, he could at least keep his grades up and performed well in sports, although he'd most likely use a lacrosse stick to bludgeon the opposing team's legs rather than use it to actually catch the ball.
  
  This persisted until high school, where Danny's tough attitude and proficiency with his fists and body in general made him quite the popular kid. Girls loved him, guys wanted to be like him. This was a reputation that he enjoyed immensely, somehow managing to date around, maintain his grades (though at a slightly lower margin than he did in elementary- he wasn't exempt from a few intervention classes) and, of course, continue with his physical hobbies.
  
  He'd started exploring new sports and hobbies, but found himself drawn, ironically enough, to his father's own work. At first, he wanted to be a fireman like his dad, but Alfred encouraged him to pursue a different career path after sustaining a third-degree burn from a house fire gone wrong.
  
  And pursue a different career path he did. As soon as he graduated high school, he applied to the police force.
  
  What immediately followed next was at least six months of endless training at the police academy. Physical conditioning, firearms training, driving training...eventually, at 21 years of age, Danny graduated from the police academy and became a full time police officer. Some parts of his attitude had dropped somewhat, though he maintained the confidence and physical conditioning to back up any claims of strength he'd occasionally make. He served for four years until his eventual death.
  
  On a Tuesday afternoon on January 18, a high-risk emergency was called. Terrorists had arrived and held up a high-rise condominium near the area. Almost every officer was rushed out to the scene, including Danny. At first, it seemed that the operation was going successfully- they were rescuing survivors left and right, subduing many of the terrorists that came at them, even managing to bag a few for interrogation.
  
  And this was where shit hit the fan, according to Danny, 30 years later in hell.
  
  He got overconfident and charged forward, into the room where supposedly, the leader awaited. Before he could react, he swore that the only thing he saw was a black bomb planted on the floor, and the detonator in the leader's hand. He saw the mixture of confidence and suicidal determination in the man's eyes.
  
  He pushed the detonator's button.
  
  
  
  Danny doesn't remember much after that. His hearing had been blown out completely by the bomb. He could have sworn he felt the floor collapse and many other pieces of shrapnel and debris hit him, but his lungs were already rapidly failing and soon enough, Daniel Walker was dead.
  
  What he does remember, however, is the shocking turn of events that happened afterward. He woke up in an unfamiliar place, feeling completely drained, exhausted and...hot?
  
  He remembers peering down at himself and finding practically no sign of his human body. His feet were replaced by goat feet, and there was an unfamiliar weight and pressure on his head. But what shocked him the most was the fact that he was, quite literally, on fire.
  
  So Daniel Walker emitted the only reaction he could think of.
  
  He freaked out.
  
  His little outburst startled one of many figures staring him down. As the figure spoke, blue flames spurted forth from his jaw, making it appear dislocated.
  
  "God, he's one of those screamers."
  
  "Wasn't this guy a cop in his life?" Another prompted, scratching at a hole constantly dribbling blue fire from his stomach. It brought an uncomfortable feeling to Danny's stomach.
  
  "I'd expect more bravery from a cop," One wheezed, laughing through puncture holes in his chest and lungs. This was also the one that hoisted Danny back up to his feet, prodding him forward. "Come on now, up you go. Don't wanna be rude now do ya?"
  
  All of them, Danny noted, had horns. He could have sworn the one with the unhinged jaw had a tail, but it quickly darted away from his curious stare as the man with holes in his chest pointed him to a chair...right in front of yet another man with a massive gash spurting blue flames in his throat.
  
  And that's when he saw the pamphlet- more specifically, the three words printed atop.
  
  "Welcome to Hell!"
  
  It took every ounce of self-restraint he had to not scream again.
  
• 
  Horns: Danny has rather...normal horns that simply extend from the top of his head, curving slightly upwards. They're not exactly the most grandiose- they look just like the horns you'd see on a Halloween devil's mask.
  
  Time working for Hell: 30 years of servitude so far. Danny sometimes laments that he'd spent more time working in hell than he did alive.
  
  Harvesting Tool: Danny dislikes using massive tools, much preferring easy ones he can hold in one hand. Due to this, he uses only a sickle to harvest souls.
  
  Weapon: Unfortunately for him, when he died, he didn't have many of his equipment on him. The only things he kept with him as weapons were a baton and a small pistol with limited ammo.
  
  Strengths:
  - Physical Stature - Danny kept most of his physical conditioning and reflexes now that he managed to keep most of his humanoid stature. ...Except the goat feet.
  - Fire - He's somehow managed to keep a good check over his body's flames and use them to his advantage when he can. His body still occasionally turns blue.
  - Confidence - When it comes to matters that don't involve harvesting souls, Danny's surprisingly still confident. He's rather sociable. Sometimes, you just gotta make the most of what you have. Even in Hell.
  
  Weaknesses:
  - Hydrophobic - Due to the status of his body, water aggravates Danny's physical form and still hurts the hell out of him.
  - Brittleness - Due to the nature of how he died, Danny's body can be a little brittle. If someone pulled hard enough, for example, you could pull off his arm.
  - Temper - He's actually rather temperamental. Most of the time he can keep himself rational, but his old attitude sometimes comes to light. A telltale sign is when his flames begin to turn blue again.
  

 

[Soviet Panda]

Axeykins A bit short, but I've rp'd with you before and know you're good at it. Accepted.

CrowOuttaHell Impressed and pleased, now I feel inspired to make our three stooges minor side characters that are simply there to be there. Accepted.

 

[Soviet Panda]

Spoiler: Mr. Bones

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• 
  
  
  Mr. Bones​
  
  Age at death: Unknown by most employees. There a sizable jar full of souls in bets. Some say as young as 18, while others think it's somewhere in the 30's
  Cause of death: Bludgeoned to death before being cannibalized.
  Life before death: There's another jar for this one. Most agree that it's something from way back. Like, way way back. The only one that seems to know anything about Mr. Bones, in fact, is the big man himself.
• 
  Horns: Large, awe-inspiring horns sit atop his head denoting the raw power and skill Mr. Bones has with the demonic arts.
  Time working for Hell: Rumor has it, he's the closest one to actually retiring.
  Harvesting Tool: A flail, originally used to separate grain from harvested sheaves, works much the same for souls.
  Weapon: A sturdy, blackened club. Again, rumors are abound that it was one of the first truly demonic weapons ever made, before the rights to weapon production were obtained by Hella.
  Strengths: Centuries of service have allowed him to gain plenty of experience as a Demon. He knows just about everything involving soul harvesting, including a few little tricks that make some of the harder and more stubborn souls that small bit easier.
  Weaknesses: He's one part prideful and one part sick of the job. He wants it done and over with so he can retire and get past the Pearled Gates that taunt him every day.
  

Spoiler: Bodega Brothers

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• 
  
  
  Henry Bodega​
  Age at death: 35
  Cause of death: Gunshot wounds
  Life before death: Henry Bodega is the oldest of the Bodega brothers, and therefore the leader. And it was him that got his brothers to join him in traveling West in search of gold. However, he forgot how gold affects how people think, and how greedy some can be. He and his brothers were jumped by several other panners that thought the Brother's spot held a lot of promise. Next thing he knew, Henry had a couple holes in his chest. He couldn't remember what all happened after he signed the contract, but he does remember waking up with his brothers, feet now cloven and a horns now adorning their heads.
• 
  Horns: Average looking horns sit atop his head.
  Time working for Hell: 2 and some centuries.
  Harvesting Tool: Sickle
  Weapon: Lever action shotgun.
  Strengths:
  
  1. Henry is a natural leader, at least among his brothers, and is comfortable in that position.
  2. He's the one you need to talk to if you need something that you technically shouldn't have. He knows a few people, and a few people that owe him a favor.
  Weaknesses:
  
  1. He only goes on jobs if his brothers can come with.
  2. Though he is the leader, and he loves his family, he does often get into fights with Tod, most of the time turning into physical brawls.
  3. His punctured lungs makes shouting a little difficult and causes him to be out of breath more often.

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• 
  
  
  Tod Bodega​
  Age at death: 30
  Cause of death: Buckshot wound
  Life before death: The middle child of the three, Tod was always the one that made Henry think. He still followed his brother, he just made sure Henry knew what he was asking them to do. But not even he could predict waking up to a shotgun pressed against his stomach.
• 
  Horns: Tod has two corkscrewing horns that hugs his skull.
  Time working for Hell: 2 and some centuries
  Harvesting Tool: Sickle
  Weapon: Lever action rifle.
  Strengths:
  
  1. Tod has the most mystical power of the three.
  2. A damn good shot with that rifle
  Weaknesses:
  
  1. Physically weak, though he often brawls with Henry.

• Employee information
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• Appearance:
  
  
  Ben 'Bennie' Bodega​
  Age at death:22
  Cause of death: Blunt force trauma to the head
  Life before death: The youngest of the three Bodega brothers, Ben did what he was told without question. If it wasn't for Tod constantly pushing Henry to think his plans through, Ben probably would've been dead long before 22. But they can't stop everything, especially a man with a shovel while they were sleeping.
• 
  Horns: Bennie's horns are more nubs than actual horns.
  Time working for Hell: 2 and some centuries.
  Harvesting Tool: Sickle
  Weapon: Bennie has always wanted to be a knight, which is why he uses a claymore.
  Strengths:
  
  1. Bennie is by far the strongest Bodega, able to wrestle a Minotaur to the ground and snap off one of it's horns.
  Weaknesses:
  
  1. Bennie is a shy individual and is very self conscious about his tail.

 

[SCSaya06]

Name || Carmela Riviera

Age at death || 26

Cause of death || Homicide (Justifiable)

Horns || She sports a pair of average horns on the sides of her head. The horns themselves resemble human vertebrae.

Time working for Hell || 5 Years

Harvesting Tool || A scythe.

Weapon || A three pronged sword resembling an oversized pitchfork.

Strengths:
- She has a decent amount of combat experience as a demon.
- Having lived her life as a runner, she's pretty fast on her feet and is pretty good at operating cars.
- Her best asset is her experience and familiarity with the human underworld and its inner workings.

Weaknesses:
- Due to the cause of her death, she has a pretty damning weakness in the form of a blind spot on her right.
- She's not very good at anticipating projectiles.




Life before death || "F*cking snitch..." Carmela grunted, puffing smoke from her cigarette. She placed a hand on her stomach; a warm sensation pooling, staining her once white shirt a dark shade of pink. She glanced at the dead man lying in a pool of his own blood just by her side. "Two thousand pesos asshole. Better have the money ready when I see you again."

Taking out the chamber from her trusted .45, she checked to see how many rounds she has left. A single bronze bullet gleamed from inside the dark casing. Seeing this, she laid back, her eyes turning to the slowly dawning sky as she tossed the crumpled packaging of Marlboro's to the side. "Kind of like my smokes. Only one left." In her mind, she ran through the scenario that led up to this point.

It was another one of her odd jobs. Pick up a kid from the vagrants sleeping near Jones Bridge and take it to a small diner known only as "The Nest". She'd rather not divulge any details. Just know the doc was a pro and the kid didn't feel a thing. Five digits automatically added to her bank account. Somewhere along the way however, there was a slip-up and a job that only required her to bring in the goods now has her delivering it. She remembered the doc and three goons with the kid piling at the back of her trusted red Vios as a well-dressed man got into the passenger seat beside her.

Glancing at the rear view mirror, she could see how good the doctor was at his job. Kid looked like he was just having a particularly painful cramp.

And now they were engaged in a shootout with the cops waiting for them at the airport. She cursed at having been caught in the crossfire--doubt the excuse that she was merely "the driver" would fly with the cops looking to fulfill their bounty for the night. There was no other choice but to fight it out. Which leads to now.

"Some job eh?" One of the armed goons slides up to her, chuckling. He tosses her a spare magazine which lands on her lap as he tries to bring his wounded leg closer. The pair was tucked behind an Innova in the airport parking lot. The wailing of sirens can be heard in the distance. Reinforcements were coming and unfortunately for the two survivors, it wasn't for them.

"Haha!" Carmela chuckled. "Some job." She sighed, plopping the replacement magazine in place.

"You know..." The man whispered. "The Vios is only a couple more meters from here. What say we run for it?"

Genius idea. Guess he wanted a medal. Between the two of them, they shared only twelve more shots, a bleeding stomach and a wounded leg. She wouldn't trust them making it past the van's headlights before they were gunned down. Gripping the handle of her .45, she could only shake her head as she steeled herself at her last chance to preserve her miserable existence on Earth.

"Nah. Let's just end it now. F*ck! Let's end this now!" Last thing she remembered was peering out of the van--

Then BAM!!!

Everything goes black.

"Revenge? Probably. Would you really take revenge on folk just doing their jobs though? For me, it's probably a yes. For my satisfaction."

 

[Soviet Panda]

SCSaya06 Murder isn't the right word when killed by a cop in a shootout, I don't think, but I don't know what the right term is so that's fine. Accepted.

 

[SCSaya06]

Soviet Panda Apparently, the term was "homicide". XD Justifiable homicide in this case. Thanks!

 

[Aloha Loha]

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• 
  Appearance: This creature is a rather pitiable sight, yet one that should not be under-estimated or pitied. About twenty inches in size, the most prevalent feature of this demon is a the pale corpse like mangled face and body which shows off little hunks of bones and chunks of the body. They possess hallowed out eye-sockets glimmer with an intense hate, and blue flame, and mouth of teething little sharp fangs. It crawls as its legs are undeveloped and are completely unable to be utilized as legs.
  Name: "Unwanted"
  Age at death: Third Trimester
  Cause of death: A back-alley abortion.
  Life before death: This young never had a chance to live - it was denied so by a vapid woman who felt that the sanctity of life was for her to pick. Perhaps one could go into detail regarding the woman or the circumstances that caused this tragedy to happen. But that is something this demon could not understand - nor frankly would it want to. This young, this creature which only existed as a fetus in the dark only knew of the innards of the body. They were fed, they began to grow, soon the child would be able to see the glimmer of light and be born into this world. However the only glimmering light this poor, pitiful, individual saw was the shiny metal of a coat-hanger ripping carelessly throughout both bodies.
• 
  Horns: A small, though fairly sizable for an infant, set of horns which resemble mangled boar tusks.
  Time working for Hell: Four weeks
  Harvesting Tool: A coat-hanger
  Weapon: Teeth
  
  Strengths:
  - Incredible spiritual and physical constitution
  - Sharp teeth and surprising jaw strength
  - Getting into small spaces
  
  Weaknesses:
  - Weak physical strength (apart from bite)
  - Mangled body (especially lack of legs)
  - Emotional and Impulsive

 

[Soviet Panda]

Aloha Loha I'm not going to accept this. The Boss isn't going to hire a baby regardless of how they die. And I wouldn't know where to even begin with involving them in any sort of story arc, major or minor.

 

[Jeda Teq]

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• ​
  Name: Rexton "Rex" Oliver Tyson
  Age at death: 33
  Cause of death: Eyes gouges and skull roughly crushed while being strangled by piano wire.
  Life before death: I'm a bad man who's done evil things to get by. It started when I was about sixteen. I shot a man who was robbing the store I worked at. To this day I don't know if he lived or died, but I ran. A scared kid. Life on the streets is rough. Especially when you have no skills and less than college education. I can't say I didn't miss the love of my parents though. That's another story for another time. I did come across a group of Hispanics. They were weary of me at first, until they learned that my Ma was from Panama. From there they welcomed me with open arms. I became a part of their gang. Treated me like family they did. Salvador was their leader. He pushed me to do more. To be better than what I was. He's the reason I joined the military. I became a U.S. Marine. Boot camp was like breathing in gas everyday, but I made it through.
  
  Life as a grunt didn't become any easier. It wasn't the lifestyle but the media. When I think about maybe it was the guilt that caused me to focus on the negative parts of people. I wanted to put a bullet in them all. I wanted to put a bullet in me. Life has a weird way telling you that you gotta live. After my duty in the service I spent most of my days in my dark apartment with a gun in mouth. Itching to pull the trigger. The day I finally decided to go through with it I had a knock at my door. I ignored it, but they kept banging. Even rapped on my window. I finally answered it. Her name was Sabra.
  
  It had been two years since I've seen Sabra. She was as beautiful as ever. In her arms was a two year old little girl. Chione. She had my last name. For the first time in a long time I had broke down in tears. I was given a reason to live. Those two girls saved my life, but I wish I could say that I saved theirs. Hard times came upon us and I was given the opportunity to be a mercenary. In need for cash I took up the opportunity. My time in the Corps had hardened my nerve for killing. It's what I did. The more I killed the better things got for us. Sabra even helped me get back in touch with my family. My mother and father both cried for me.
  
  During my work I would end up crossing the wrong group of people. When I got home I found Sabra hanging from a noose with a letter in her bra addressed to me. I read it after cutting down her violated body. They had Chione. My baby girl. She was only eight. At that time I still believed God would intervene. Show some mercy. So I prayed.
  
  Spoiler: Contains scenario that may be uncomfortable to some

  When I arrived at the given location I was greeted with the sight of children in adult attire. My mind went back to my tour in the dark parts of Asia. Consumed by fear and anger I charged in like a raging bull. I'd be lying if I said it was easy, but they're weren't as well trained as I was. I made it to he room where they had Chione. She was naked and crying while some man licked her body. Before I could act a woman caught me with a dog cather noose. I dropped to my knees gasping for air as the piano wire dug into my skin. The man forced Chione to look at me as I struggled to breath and said, "Daddy can't save you now." He then looked at me right in the eyes. He must've seen the anger and hatred that filled me because he followed that with, "What's the matter? Can't bare to watch? Then we'll gouge your eyes out" Then another person came from behind, piercing my eye sockets with two meat hooks. Their knee pressed against the back of my skull as they jerked the metal hooks back. The last thing I remember was my scream mixed with Chione's sobs as she lost her virginity....
• 
  Horns: A singular Normal sized Fancy Horn emerges from his face.
  Time working for Hell: 26
  Harvesting Tool: Nut Gatherer
  Weapon: A staff with a noose at one end.
  Strengths:
  1. Tactical Mindset. His years in the service has trained him to be able to assess the situation and over come them.
  2.
  Weaknesses:
  1. He struggles with PTSD which causes him to either fall into a pit of despair or run wild. Either way he tends to rend souls instead of gathering them when he falls into one of those state of mind.
  2. He suffers from intense guilt and self doubt. Because of this he will end up hurting himself if given a blade. This guilt also makes it hard for him to harvest souls of young children.
  3. He's blind. He lacks the ability of sight and has to rely on his minds eye. His minds eye can get cloudy when his emotions are unstable or when presented with an extremely powerful soul like Mr. Bones.
  4. Damaged neck. Speaking is a burden. Every time he speaks it feels as if he's being strangled. His raspy voice reflects that sensation.
• 
  
  ​
  The first ten years of his death he spent crying. That gave him the grooves in his stone like face. He sobbed until he forgot why he was doing so. During his second decade of death his mania became more volatile. Which lead to greater depression and his self worth became less. Presently, during his third decade, his mania and depression has begun to form an entirely separate persona known as Rot. Ironically borrowing letters from his initials. When Rot is awakened he will attempt to rend all souls who come too close. As Rot the horn on his head grows to be large as it curves around piercing his chest through his back. The four ridges on his head sprout up into four smaller horns. However the features that make up his horns lose the ridges that would give them their fancy appearance.
  
  A Lesser Devil's Report:
  Contractor: REXTON O. TYSON
  Length of observation: TWENTY-SIX HUMAN YEARS
  Report:
  -DECADE 1: CONTRACTOR, REXTON T., SPENT THE MAJORITY OF HIS FIRST DECADE EXPRESSING EXTREME SADNESS THROUGH TEARS. THIS IS NOT UNCOMMON FOR A NORMAL SOUL SENT TO HELL FOR PUNISHMENT. HOWEVER HIS CONSTANT WAILING HAS CAUSED OTHER CONTRACTORS A SENSE OF UNEASINESS. THIS HAS ALSO AFFECTED HIS ABILITY TO COMPLETE MISSIONS. HE SPENT DAYS WAILING BEFORE COMPLETING ANY ASSIGNED TASK. THE TEARS HAVE ALSO CREATED PERMANENT GROVES IN HIS STONE LIKE FACE. THESE BLEMISHES HAVE SHONE TO HAVE NO EFFECT ON HIS PERFORMANCE.
  
  -DECADE 2- HIS MEMORY HAS BEGUN TO FAIL HIM. WHEN ASKED WHY HE HAD BEEN CRYING HE COULD NOT RECALL. PREVIOUSLY WHEN ASKED HE WOULD LAMENT THE TALE OF HIS LIFE UP TO THE POINT OF HIS DEATH. HIS STORY HAS BEEN DOCUMENTED FOR FUTURE INVESTIGATIONS. HIS LOSE OF MEMORY DID NOT SUPPRESS HIS POST TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER (PTSD) OR HIS OVER WHELMING GUILT. HIS GUILT HAS INTERFERED WITH HIS ABILITY TO HARVEST THE SOULS OF CHILDREN. HE HAS BEEN UNABLE TO SUCCESSFULLY OBTAIN THE SOUL OF A CHILD. HIS PTSD HAS LEAD TO SEVERAL SPOUTS OF MANIA. OVER TIME THIS MANIA HAS BECOME MORE VOLATILE. CONTRACTOR HAS IMPOSED A FORM OF SOLITARY CONFINEMENT TO HIMSELF. THIS EVENT HAS LEAD HIM TO FALL INTO FURTHER DEPRESSION.
  
  -DECADE 3- THOUGH HIS THIRD DECADE IS STILL IN PROGRESS I FEEL IT NECESSARY TO REPORT ON RECENT EVENTS. CONTRACTOR HAS SHOWN SIGNS OF GREAT UNCONTROLLED POWER. THESE EVENTS ARE AN SIDE EFFECT OF HIS PTSD INDUCED MANIA. DURING AN EPISODE HE WILL BEGIN REFERRING TO HIMSELF AS "ROT". IT IS BELIEVED THE NAME IS DERIVED FROM HIS INITIALS. AS ROT THE CONTRACTOR'S HORN GROWS TO BE FAIRLY LARGE. AS MUCH SO THAT IT CURLS BACK SO INTENSELY THAT IT PUNCTURES HIS BACK AND PIERCES THROUGH HIS CHEST ENDING FOUR INCHES IN FRONT OF HIS MOUTH. THE FOR RIDGES ON HIS HEAD RISE UP TO BECOME NORMAL SIZED HORNS OF THEIR OWN. NORMALLY HIS HORN WOULD BE CLASSIFIED AS FANCY, AS ROT HIS HORNS ARE SMOOTH AND PLAIN. AS SUCH HE LACKS ANY SORT OF CONTROL TO HIS POWER. IN THIS STATE CONTRACTOR REVERTS TO THE MENTAL CONDITION OF HIS FIRST DECADE. HE WAILS FOR HIS WIFE AND DAUGHTER. CRYING THAT HE WAS TOO LATE. HIS CRIES ARE SO INTENSE THAT THEY RUPTURE WEAKER SPIRITS. PROLONGED EXPOSURE WILL CAUSE THE SPIRITS TO REND.
  
  IT IS SUSPECTED THAT CONTRACTOR HAS BECOME A GEMINI. THERE IS SPECULATION THAT 'ROT' IS CONTRACTOR'S ORIGINAL SELF.
  
  Conclusion: IT IS RECOMMENDED TO RELEASE CONTRACTOR FROM CONTRACT AND EXPEL THEM INTO THE PUNISH. IF THIS CANNOT BE DONE A SUSPENSION IS HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. CONTRACTOR IS A DETRIMENT TO BUSINESS AND SHOULD NOT BE REINSTATED UNTIL THERAPY APPROVES HIM FOR ACTIVITY.
  
  

 

[Soviet Panda]

Jeda Teq Accepted

 

[vielpotato]

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• Appearance:
  Name: Being born in a psycho family, they called their son “Likan”
  Age at death: 18
  Cause of death: Ritualistic Torture
  Life before death: When Likan was born, he was born into a family of crazed maniacs who believed he was the 'son of god', who in their eyes was a 'demon' who would purge the land of all evils. Wishing to 'raise' this devil, Likan was put into extreme misfortune throughout his sheltered life. Never once leaving the house, let alone see the outdoors, Likan thought that this pain and torture would never end. Not satisfied, his parents did one final hurrah in order to do their duty as to raising the 'end of the world'. On Likan's final day alive, his parents made him food, something that never had happened before as he had to go through torture to gain anything he needed, and had him sit down at the 'dinner table' which was never used as such. This food contained something else which Likan found out to be something that made him physically weak, a thing that was unnecessary as he was already frail and could barely offer any kind of hint of resistance. After the inhibitor settled in, his parents hoisted him onto the table. While performing gruesome tasks on Likan, he was screaming his lungs out as he slowly bled to death. And slowly it was, as the parents made sure that the pain, which they believed would 'awaken the demon' inside of him, was slow. For hours, which would seem almost like centuries to anyone who could be in such pain, Likan was put into such feeling that eventually he gave out. Running out of blood, with freshly done wounds all over him, Likan was about to go on. However, to add salt to the wound, this time literally, his parents would put in a mixture of salt and alcohol in a rub that they vigorously applied onto the body until the boy truly did pass on.
  Awakening, Likan feared the worse. That his pain, brought onto by his captors, was not over. Realizing he was actually in Hell, however, made Likan scream in joy. To pass on, and be away from such pain applied to him by his 'parents' was something that he no longer had to experience day in and out. Now, Likan could live a life, at least as much as one can with them being dead, and he was ready to be put to work. With his lack of experience, but eagerness to finally become a part of something good, Likan joined with the big man who he feared not. For nothing could possibly be as bad as what he went through for his past life.
• 
  Horns: While standing in the middle length wise, they are simple in design with only a slight curve (its somewhere between ‘simple’ and ‘fancy’)
  Time working for Hell: 50 years
  Harvesting Tool: Ceremonial Sacrifice Knife
  Weapon: Likan uses the same “knife”as a weapon, but it he gets a sword instead.
  Strengths: He takes less injury, with years of damage to him when he was alive. His knife however, is able to injure him without effort.
  Weaknesses: After years of abuse, he is physically weak

 

[Soviet Panda]

Wording is a bit weird on the weapon, but I get the gist of it. Accepted. Will start this sometime this weekend.