Fantasy Echoes of the Night Sign-Ups

[The Forgotten Host]

• Vigilante Alter Ego
• Civilian Identity

• 
  
  Artwork by thelivingmachine02
  
• 
  
  

The Mysterious Miss Do-well

• General
• Traits
• Goals/Fears
• Abilities/Skills
• Personality/Background

• 
  Alias: Shantae Baskerville (Civilian Identity); The Mysterious Miss Do-well (Vigilante Alter Ego)
  
  
  Age: 27
  
  
  Gender: Female
  
  
  Sexuality: Heterosexual
  
  
  Nationality: Indian Subcontinent Native
  
  
  Species: Human
  
  
  Faction: Vampiric Council
  
  
  

  Likes	Dislikes
  Imported chocolates	Indian food cooked by British chefs (tastes horrible more times than not)
  Her husband (especially her husband)	People with prejudice
  Easy missions	Hard missions
  Art auctions	Wet socks (just... no)

  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Hair Style: Straight (stretches down to lower back); Rolls it into a bun for her disguise.
  
  
  Hair Color: Black.
  
  
  Eye Color: Steel Grey.
  
  
  Skin Color: Brown.
  
  
  Height: 6.5 feet.
  
  
  Weight: Around 190 Ibs.
  
  
  Scars: Several faint burn marks from a rough childhood. The only few she has from her line of work are small nicks here and there.
  
  
  Tattoos: None (but she REALLY wants one)
  
  
  Body Type: Mesomorph. Well Built
  
• 
  Goal(s):
  
  
  - Formal and Substantive equality between humans and post-humans.
  
  
  - Acquire an art collection.
  
  
  - Have children with her husband.
  
  
  Deepest Fear(s):
  
  
  - The death of her husband.
  
  
  - The exile of all post-humans from human society.
  
  
  - Wet socks on a long hard mission (JUST... NO).
  
• 
  

  Strengths	Weaknesses
  A prodigy in melee combat, trained in various forms of martial arts; also competent in long ranged engagement.	Close range capability far exceeds long ranged aptitude. Against post-human threats, she may need more than physical strength.
  Her husband communicates to her through an intercom head piece attached to her mask (see Arsenal) that allows her tactical navigation in compromised situations.	Highly dependent on her husband for tactical advice. Ear piece is extremely delicate. If it is damaged, she is on her own. Intercom is also audible to individuals of higher senses at close range
  Miss Do-Well suit is made of fire and electricity retardant material; also waterproof; able to withstand piercing attacks (at an angle).	Not much defense against corrosive damage; cannot hold against sustained gunfire; no magical resistance.
  Utility belt includes smoke pellets, lock picks, knives, napalm, Grapple Gun & Chord Barrel (see Arsenal), and two separate compartments for shotgun shells and imported chocolate.	All limited use items (smoke pellets, napalm and knives) can only be used five times before restock is needed. She tends to wear out her stock very quickly.

  
  
  Arsenal(s):
  
  Shock Knuckles: Built into her suit gloves. Discharge concussive electrical pulses into opponent upon impact. Ideal for leveling playing field against post-human threats. Ineffective against exceptionally large enemies
  
  Ear Piece: Allows for open communication between large distances. Signal may be compromised in underground tunnels and static interruption. Range is at prime under country boundaries. Can be modified to boost signal.
  
  
  Grappling Gun: Allows firm grapple of any ledge to be scaled across. A release button cuts of apparatus from chord. The chord can only hold a load of 300 lbs. The Chord can extend up to 3 stories. The chord Barrel is attached to the Miss Do-Well suit, therefore reusable. Spring release winds chord up into its barrel, allowing for more time efficiency as well as aiding in scaling.
  
  The chord and hook can detached, making the Grappling Gun a standard hand-cannon. When in Hand-canon mode, the grappling gun can use standard shotgun rounds.
  
  
  Knives: Standard throwing knives.
  
  
  Bartholomew Baskerville: Shantae's vampiric husband. Possibly the world's most fragile vampire and ego, he can be blown away by the slightest breeze. However, he is a master tactician that coaches Shantae in her myriad endeavors. Sitting on the world's most uncomfortable chair, in front of a screen that hurts his eyes, he accompanies his wife into the long hours of the night.
  
  
  Power(s):
  
  Baskerville Family Fortune: Allows Shantae to afford, equip and customize the latest state of the art hunter technology.
  
  High Pain Tolerance: Years of abuse have left Shantae a resilient human being. She can take a heavy beating (not that a deadly blow can stop her from actually dying).
  
  Aptitude for Martial Arts: Shantae is capable of understanding new forms of hand-to-hand combat very easily as well as learning from past combat mistakes.
  
  Parkour: Shantae's years of intense training have made her an exceptionally well adept at moving rapidly through any area, typically in an urban environment, negotiating obstacles by running, jumping, and climbing.
  
  Superior Stealth: Shantae's training makes her extremely difficult to detect when actively engaging in clandestine activity.
  
  
  
• 
  Personality:
  
  Outside of work, Shantae is upbeat and cheerful. Having grown up in the subcontinent, the mores of Western society are like a second language to her, sometimes difficult to grasp. She can speak English fluently, but one can tell she'd rather speak Hindi. These characteristics may cause her to come off as naive to some, but she is anything but. She is at her happiest when her husband Bartholomew is in her presence. Both bring out the best in each other.
  
  When at work, Shantae uses a western accent to protect her identity. She'd rather keep quiet however, for fear of having her native accent slip. This might cause her identity to be traced back. When Bartholomew is on the intercom with her, she is normally reserved and in-control. When her connection with him is lost, there is a noticeable change in her mannerism. She is easier to fluster, talks more openly, and the observant type can notice her worry in her demeanor.
  
  Biography:
  
  Shantae met Bartholomew in her early adult years. He had traveled to the Indian subcontinent for business concerning his ever-expanding mining company 'The Baskerville Mining Company'. A well-known vampire business mogul with a playboy streak, his visit was nothing short of controversial. He happened by Shantae one day while courting some women in the shops. Shantae didn't buy into his charm and would have kept walking, if a group of religious zealots didn't attack the Vampire. Having prodigious combat capacity, she managed to hold her own against them (though still winning a trip to the ER). Bartholomew paid for all medical expenses, greatly impressed by the woman's strength and character. He decided that such talent could not go to waste. When he met Shantae's family, he offered her parents a large sum of money to let her work for him as a bodyguard, paying for her proper training. Shantae accepted, the prospect of travelling the world being to titillating to simply pass by.
  
  The only drawback was that she had to deal with the most egotistical vampire she had ever met along the way (and in hindsight there was a bias stemming from his vampirism). However as time marched on, Shantae grew to trust Bartholomew. They became close friends. Five years of rigorous training later, Shantae had become a world class fighter. However, this was far from where her story ended.
  
  One day, Bartholomew was kidnapped by an unknown party. Shantae came to learn that he was a contributor to the organization known as Vampiric Counsel. Shantae demanded that the council let her rescue him.
  
  "Why do you care what happens to him?" They asked
  
  "Because I love him!" She cried, the realization of her feelings hitting her just then.
  
  The counsel allowed her to go along with a couple other vampires for back up. One short mission and two dead bodies later Bartholomew was saved but permanently injured by the pure, a victim to their holy rituals. For her sevices to post-humanity, Shantae was elected honorary member of the Vampiric Counsel. The two married short after. With a resolve to rectify all injustices towards post-humans, she dawned the mask of the Mysterious Miss Do-Well. A vigilante in the eyes of the law, operating under the counsel with her ever vigilant husband, coaching her in their home base.
  
  

 

[CerpinTaxt]

Alice Horowitz​

General:

Name: Alice Horowitz

Alias: Thunderous Silence

Gender: Female

Age: ~750 years old.

Sexuality: Has not been stated.

Nationality: Unknown. Most likely from some part of Scandinavia.

Species: Vampire

Faction: The Franklin Collective

Physicality and overall appearance:

Hair style: The back is kept in a ponytail with her bangs running along the side of her face. The rest of her hair is hidden by her hat.

Hair color: White as snow.

Eye color: Has been shown to alternate between orange and blue.

Height: 6 feet 7 inches

Weight: 220 lbs

Scars: None

Tattoos: None

Body type: Alice is remarkably muscular, as can be gleamed at by her weight. Well defined arms and abdominal muscles as well powerful leg muscles. Saying her body-type is like an hourglass wouldn't fit, but neither would any other word. Perhaps 'muscular hourglass'.

Clothing: A tricorne cap with a feather at the side, with a set of attire that hints at the remnants of her taste in regal clothing. A blackened cotton coat with bits of leather padding, gloves made of tough leather with various straps along the long sleeves of them keeping them in place on her arm. An exotic looking cravat, held in place by a gold medallion, is wrapped around her neck and leads down to the buttoned shirt and vest underneath her heavy coat. Simple black trousers with a pair of long heavy boots with are secured with a mixture of straps and laces.

Spoiler

Personal Information:
Likes:
-Rifles. Much more kick to a rifle than a pistol.

-The night. Unlike her partner, she's not a fan of treading dangerous places during the day. Their enemies may be weakened, but so are they.

-REDACTED.

-REDACTED.

ADDENDUM TO FILE:

I'm asking you all to stop trying to ask what she likes and her hobbies are in these interviews you insist on having with her. You're just irritating her and she's already broken three steel doors when its been brought up. You boys who keep track of all this stuff are going to have her tear down the whole facility if you don't stop and I won't help you when it does. Honestly.

(Oliver.)

Dislikes:
-Being interviewed. Perhaps that should be the most important to note.

-Dogs. They always try to bite her and are just an overall nuisance.

-The smog and pollution.

Goals: So far, her only known goals is pure revenge. Achieving it and being done with it all.

Deepest Fears: Not getting the chance to enact her revenge. All those years wasted for nothing.

Personality: It's hard to discuss what someone is like when they never speak. No voice to match them to, nothing to put the face to. A neutral expression, a rigid posture. Unreadable and precise. What little can be gleamed at is from her actions on and off a mission. Her posture when sitting down, having to correct from sitting in a more 'casual' style than how she did years ago. The placement of her shots so that her victims can die as quickly as possible, even how she loads her weapons gives off a strange notion of regality.

Biography:
The small Kingdom of Horowitz is not very well know. Nestled deep within what we may consider Sweden, it was a small but somewhat success kingdom. Small towns buried deep within the forests with the large castle in the center of the great maze of trees. Unknown to most of the world then, and most likely never to be found today. Alice was one such member of the royal family of the small kingdom, specifically the Princess. Her and her younger sister, Joan, were the two daughters of the family with the two being practically inseparable. They were almost never apart from one another, even as they got older. Well, that was until they began to reach adulthood. The desire of power and control would eat away at them, and turn them into fierce competitors.

One of them was slated to become the next Queen of the small kingdom. Schooling at a young age was a jumbled mess of various subjects, all relating to that very fact. Proper table etiquette in the morning, fencing in the afternoon, economics over the course of a few months and even military strategy. From the start they were taught what they needed to know, but there could only be one Queen of this small, hidden land. One queen, two sisters, and Alice was slated to become that Queen due to her age. Her younger sister left in her shadow.

Something had to give. Once the two had reached their mid-twenties the final nail in the coffin of their friendship was struck as their father passed with their mother soon behind him. One of them was going to need to take the throne, and Alice was to be given the crown within the coming weeks. Preparations had to be done, rehearsal of the Oath she was to say when she took the throne officially. Food for the grand feast in her honor. Yet during all of this Joan was never seen. She had disappeared into the night one evening and hadn't returned. Search parties yielding nothing and it was believed she drowned herself in the nearby lake. Perhaps it would have been better if that had been what had happened. Alice wouldn't be stuck in an era where she didn't belong if it had been.

The night of the official seating came, and with it fire and chaos. Right as the Oath was said, the kingdom seemed to crumble before her very eyes. The towns were set ablaze and a group of monsters that couldn't die were causing havoc. Her people ran from the burning towns to the castle for protection, but either never made it or were denied entry. The large wooden doors were shut and her people left to die a violent death. The fire had spread to the trees, a great ring of flame encircling the grant castle as the beasts started to siege it. Windows shattered, nobles violently slaughtered and eaten and her sister was the cause. In her arrogance she felt that if she couldn't have the throne then it would burn. Turned into a vampire, she had managed to amass a small group the ruin what she felt rightfully belonged to her.

Alice had no where to go, trapped within her own bedchambers and awaiting her inevitable demise. Only it never came. Her sister had decided to add to her torment, turning Alice into a vampire herself and leaving her within the burning inferno. Despair gave way to anger, and thoughts of revenge. The horrible fate of her becoming a monster was a two-sided coin. A chance to exact retribution was given to her, and she would seize it. An oath of silence was taken, and wouldn't be broken until her urge for revenge had been sated.

The few knights that survived the night desperately tried to find a Queen that was long gone. All considered her to have died that night. She fled into the forests, never to be seen again by her own people.

She's never spoken of those centuries between then and now. Claims it was nothing more than traveling and training. Hiding and waiting. So much waiting. Stories began to attach themselves to her. Hunters looking for her never found her or never came back. Her trail would randomly go cold and sightings would disappear in one part of Europe only to start again in an entirely different side of the world. She was following a trail herself. One that wound up leading her deep within the swamps of Louisiana. A new title was given to her. 'The Ghost of Baton Rouge'. Anyone who entered deep into the swamps never came back. The bodies that were recovered always came back with a single bullet hole through the eyes. A musket ball lodged within the victims skull with perfect accuracy. But that couldn't be right. It was 1850, no one would still use such a rifle.

Rumors are she'd been there since the Revolutionary War, seemingly waiting for something or someone to appear. Or perhaps she'd given up and wished to be alone until her target came to her. Out of the countless members of the Collective and Conglomerate sent to those swamps to find and exterminate her only one ever made it out. 1878, Oliver was tasked to her extermination.

How he managed to defeat her in combat is a mystery they've never spoken of. In fact, everything about that day is shrouded in mystery. He didn't exterminate her but brought her back to the Collective as a potential partner.

Her services in exchange for finding her sister.

The loud crack of her rifle being her voice.
Abilities/Skills/Equipment:

Strengths:
Superb accuracy. She was able to accurately strike a person between the eyes consistently that were out of the outdated rifle's range. Now with a proper modern rifle, her lethality has only grown large. It doesn't matter how far you run, the thunderous crack will follow.

Literal strength. Alice was fairly strong before being converted to a vampire. She can carry an elephant gun and fire the cumbersome rifle without batting an eye and seems to have only gotten stronger with age. If a vampire is as strong as three men, it's save to say she's certainly stronger than three vampires. It's unknown if its luck that gave her that strength or age.

Rifle handling. A carbine, or a full rifle..it's all the same. It needs two hands and that's all that matters to Alice. If Oliver was a pistol enthusiast, it's safe to say she'd be the rifle enthusiast. She's experimented with the various guns offered by the Collective and is quite skilled with most.

Weaknesses:
Standard vampire weaknesses, to be expected really.

Her distrust of others. She isn't one to take orders or suggestions. She believes her methods are correct, and even Oliver can't compromise with her at times.

Her voice, or lack thereof. Oliver and her communicate with a strange form of sign language that no one can quite figure out. Useful for secrecy and a noisy battlefield, but useless if one was looking away from the other.

Skillsets:
Ricohet: Having over a hundred years of experience with rifles has lead to her learning just how to expertly ricochet a bullet from a surface or multiple surfaces to strike someone. It took decades to learn this, and its proven to been quite handy. She doesn't need to see you to kill you. Quite thrilling.


Equipment:

Spoiler: Karabiner 88, chambered in 7.92 Mauser.

A wonderful bolt action rifle, with bullets loaded with smokeless powder. Clip fed. The bolt has been modified for Alice's strength, actually making the rifle harder to cycle for anyone else. Early usage of bolt-action rifles proved difficult for her as she would at times accidentally rip the whole mechanism straight from the rifle. A few changes here and there, and a new bolt have lead to the rifle now being fit for use. She even carries the bayonet on it for a bit of amusement.

Spoiler: Custom made 2 bore rifle.

While Oliver has a pistol, Alice went with a rifle. Nearly 50 pounds in weight and with two barrels instead of one it's a rifle certainly too ridiculously large for anyone but her. It's loud, packs and punch, and certainly brings a smile to her face when she uses it. Werewolves be warned.

Spoiler: Bergmann No 5, Carbine Variant.

Originally one of Oliver's weapons. A pistol with a longer barrel and detachable stock. A fairly popular thing is to sell pistols as convenient carbines, which is precisely what this is. Loaded with only silver-coated bullets, it's a back up weapon when things begin to go sour. Or the rare occasion she's stuck in a close quarters encounter.

Powers:

WIP

 

[The Shadow Realm]

• Vigilante Alter Ego
• Civilian Identity

• 
  View attachment 422302
  Artwork by thelivingmachine02
  
• 
  View attachment 422300
  

The Mysterious Miss Do-well

• General
• Traits
• Goals/Fears
• Abilities/Skills
• Personality/Background

• 
  Alias: Shantae Baskerville (Civilian Identity); The Mysterious Miss Do-well (Vigilante Alter Ego)
  
  
  Age: 27
  
  
  Gender: Female
  
  
  Sexuality: Heterosexual
  
  
  Nationality: Indian Subcontinent Native
  
  
  Species: Human
  
  
  Faction: Vampiric Council
  
  
  

  Likes	Dislikes
  Imported chocolates	Indian food cooked by British chefs (tastes horrible more times than not)
  Her husband (especially her husband)	People with prejudice
  Easy missions	Hard missions
  Art auctions	Wet socks (just... no)

  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Hair Style: Straight (stretches down to lower back); Rolls it into a bun for her disguise.
  
  
  Hair Color: Black.
  
  
  Eye Color: Steel Grey.
  
  
  Skin Color: Brown.
  
  
  Height: 6.5 feet.
  
  
  Weight: Around 190 Ibs.
  
  
  Scars: Several faint burn marks from a rough childhood. The only few she has from her line of work are small nicks here and there.
  
  
  Tattoos: None (but she REALLY wants one)
  
  
  Body Type: Mesomorph. Well Built
  
• 
  Goal(s):
  
  
  - Formal and Substantive equality between humans and post-humans.
  
  
  - Acquire an art collection.
  
  
  - Have children with her husband.
  
  
  Deepest Fear(s):
  
  
  - The death of her husband.
  
  
  - The exile of all post-humans from human society.
  
  
  - Wet socks on a long hard mission (JUST... NO).
  
• 
  

  Strengths	Weaknesses
  A prodigy in melee combat, trained in various forms of martial arts; also competent in long ranged engagement.	Close range capability far exceeds long ranged aptitude. Against post-human threats, she may need more than physical strength.
  Her husband communicates to her through an intercom head piece attached to her mask (see Arsenal) that allows her tactical navigation in compromised situations.	Highly dependent on her husband for tactical advice. Ear piece is extremely delicate. If it is damaged, she is on her own.
  Miss Do-Well suit is made of fire and electricity retardant material; also waterproof; able to withstand piercing attacks (at an angle).	Not much defense against corrosive damage; cannot hold against sustained gunfire; no magical resistance.
  Utility belt includes smoke pellets, lock picks, knives, napalm, Grapple Gun & Chord Barrel (see Arsenal), and two separate compartments for shotgun shells and imported chocolate.	All limited use items (smoke pellets, napalm and knives) can only be used five times before restock is needed. She tends to wear out her stock very quickly.

  
  
  Arsenal(s):
  
  Shock Knuckles: Built into her suit gloves. Discharge concussive electrical pulses into opponent upon impact. Ideal for leveling playing field against post-human threats. Ineffective against exceptionally large enemies
  
  Ear Piece: Allows for open communication between large distances. Signal may be compromised in underground tunnels and static interruption. Range is at prime under country boundaries. Can be modified to boost signal.
  View attachment 422298
  
  Grappling Gun: Allows firm grapple of any ledge to be scaled across. A release button cuts of apparatus from chord. The chord can only hold a load of 300 lbs. The Chord can extend up to 3 stories. The chord Barrel is attached to the Miss Do-Well suit, therefore reusable. Spring release winds chord up into its barrel, allowing for more time efficiency as well as aiding in scaling.
  
  The chord and hook can detached, making the Grappling Gun a standard hand-cannon. When in Hand-canon mode, the grappling gun can use standard shotgun rounds.
  View attachment 422301
  
  Knives: Standard throwing knives.
  View attachment 422297
  
  Bartholomew Baskerville: Shantae's vampiric husband. Possibly the world's most fragile vampire and ego, he can be blown away by the slightest breeze. However, he is a master tactician that coaches Shantae in her myriad endeavors. Sitting on the world's most uncomfortable chair, in front of a screen that hurts his eyes, he accompanies his wife into the long hours of the night.
  View attachment 422299
  
  Power(s):
  
  Baskerville Family Fortune: Allows Shantae to afford, equip and customize the latest state of the art hunter technology.
  
  High Pain Tolerance: Years of abuse have left Shantae a resilient human being. She can take a heavy beating (not that a deadly blow can stop her from actually dying).
  
  Aptitude for Martial Arts: Shantae is capable of understanding new forms of hand-to-hand combat very easily as well as learning from past combat mistakes.
  
  Parkour: Shantae's years of intense training have made her an exceptionally well adept at moving rapidly through any area, typically in an urban environment, negotiating obstacles by running, jumping, and climbing.
  
  
  
  
  
• 
  Personality:
  
  Outside of work, Shantae is upbeat and cheerful. Having grown up in the subcontinent, the mores of Western society are like a second language to her,
  sometimes difficult to grasp. She can speak English fluently, but one can tell she'd rather speak Hindi. These characteristics may cause her to come off as naive to some, but she is anything but. She is at her happiest when her husband Bartholomew is in her presence. Both bring out the best in each other.
  
  When at work, Shantae uses a western accent to protect her identity. She doesn't speak much though, for fear of having her native accent slip. This might cause her identity to be traced back. When Bartholomew is on the intercom with her, she is normally reserved and in-control. When her connection with him is lost, there is a noticeable change in her mannerism. She is easier to fluster, talks more openly, and the observant type can notice her worry in her demeanor.
  
  Biography:
  
  Shantae met Bartholomew in her early adult years. He had traveled to the Indian subcontinent for business concerning his ever-expanding mining company 'The Baskerville Mining Company'. A well-known vampire business mogul with a playboy streak, his visit was nothing short of controversial. He happened by Shantae one day while courting some women in the shops. Shantae didn't buy into his charm and would have kept walking, if a group of religious zealots didn't attack the Vampire. Having prodigious combat capacity, she managed to hold her own against them (though still winning a trip to the ER). Bartholomew paid for all medical expenses, greatly impressed by the woman's strength and character. He decided that such talent could not go to waste. When he met Shantae's family, he offered her parents a large sum of money to let her work for him as a bodyguard, paying for her proper training. Shantae accepted, the prospect of travelling the world being to titillating to simply pass by.
  
  The only drawback was that she had to deal with the most egotistical vampire she had ever met along the way (and in hindsight there was a bias stemming from his vampirism). However as time marched on, Shantae grew to trust Bartholomew. They became close friends. Five years of rigorous training later, Shantae had become a world class fighter. However, this was far from where her story ended.
  
  One day, Bartholomew was kidnapped by an unknown party. Shantae came to learn that he was a contributor to the organization known as Vampiric Counsel. Shantae demanded that the council let her rescue him.
  
  "Why do you care what happens to him?" They asked
  
  "Because I love him!" She cried, the realization of her feelings hitting her just then.
  
  The counsel allowed her to go along with a couple other vampires for back up. One short mission and two dead bodies later Bartholomew was saved but permanently injured by the pure, a victim to their holy rituals. For her sevices to post-humanity, Shantae was elected honorary member of the Vampiric Counsel. The two married short after. With a resolve to rectify all injustices towards post-humans, she dawned the mask of the Mysterious Miss Do-Well. A vigilante in the eyes of the law, operating under the counsel with her ever vigilant husband, coaching her in their home base.
  
  

Accepted, also man your character is a damn giant.

 

[The Forgotten Host]

Accepted, also man your character is a damn giant.

6.5 isn't that tall. basketball player height

 

[IternalSoul]

• Human
• Demon

• 
  
  
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  

Vee Vangelis

• General
• Traits
• Goals/Fears
• Abilities/Skills
• Personality/Background

• 
  Alias: Captain V; Luft Meister
  
  Age: 34
  
  Gender: Male
  
  Sexuality: Bisexual
  
  Nationality: German
  
  Species: Human
  
  Faction: The Collective
  
  

  Likes	Dislikes
  - A battle of wits - a round of chess, a debate, a game of manipulation. He much prefers to cross minds than cross blades.	Demons - Obviously.
  The sciences - He has keen interest in unraveling the mysteries of existence, particularly those pertaining to the origin of life and the creation of technology	Stupidty - Nothing irks him more than willful ignorance
  Coffee - his worship of the drink is the closest he'll ever come to following a religion	Fear - Fear is a product of ignorance. Ignorance is born from lack. Lack is the bane of humanity.
  A mystery - Loves bring it to the light	A mystery - Hates being shrouded in it's darkness

  
  
  
• 
  
  Hair Style: The 'gentleman's cute' - slicked at the sides, parted off-center, swept across the middle.
  
  Hair Color: Dirty blonde
  
  Eye Color: Hazel
  
  Skin Color: Olive
  
  Height: 6'2"
  
  Weight: 182lbs
  
  Scars: It's near imperceptible, but the right half of his face is a shade darker than the left half, and his body is a patchwork of light-dark skin. These are remnants of the night he learned the truth: burn scars which have taken decades to heal. Aside that, numerous battle scars litter his body: across his back, along his legs, and a prominent one at his right side.
  
  Tattoos: Nearly every inch of his torso is covered in runes and seals, part of the magic which keeps the demon at pay. The most prominent is a giant circular seal that dominates his chest. It is connected to smaller replica inked into the palm of his protector, Aminat. Should the demon wake, it can be forced back by connecting these two tattoos.
  
  Body Type: Lean, but corded with muscle
  
  Clothing: Classy yet functional style. Armored vests worn over button-up shirts. Leather chaps paired with sturdy boots. Plated gloves. Utility belts. Bandoleiers. Suspenders. And gadgets. *Lots* of gadgets. Every piece tailored to perfection, and paired with a keen eye for style and a sharp mind for combat.
  
  
  
• 
  Goals
  - To progress the sciences. To understand the blueprint of creation. To discover the reason for our existence. To improve the lives of the many. And, most of all, to uncover what makes humans human, and monsters monsters.
  
  - To solve the mystery of his guardian's death. When Vee's guardian died, he was on the edge of a breakthrough. Vee has spent years decoding his notes, following his trails, uncovering his past, in an attempt to discover the secret he took to the grave.
  - To bear the burden of his legacy. Ai told him to carry his demon with pride: By keeping it at bay, he was keeping one less evil from the world. By seeking to understand it, he was unlocking the secret to eradicting that evil. So he bears it with grace, seeing it not as a burden, but as an opportunity.
  
  ]Deepest Fear(s):
  - Fire. His darkest memory is wreathed in flames.
  - Losing his mind - either to the demon, or to madness. His intelligence is his gift and his pride; it defines him. Without it, he would feel worthless.[/white]
  
  
• 
  

  Human

  Demon

  Strengths - His genius, wealth, and influence. Intelligence had lead him not only to create weapons coveted by many hunters, but has helped him grow his guardians shipping business into a shipping empire. In addition to the airship he captains, he owns four others, crewed and captained by men under his employ. They ship goods all over Europe and the world. However, only his own airship doubles as containment and transport for the collective. - What he lacks in physical strength, he compensates for with quick feet and a quicker mind. He is a superb strategist, even in the heat of battle. His own inventions and a handful of runes made him a blurr on the battlefield. Weaknesses - Supressing a demon is taxing on the body and soul. Though stronger than the average hunter, that strength does not compare to that of a full-fledged demon. He has spells of extreme weakness, as the runes carved into his body draw on his own power to combat the demons attempts to take over his mind. This is particularly debilitating during combat. -Low stamina - Much of his body's resources is siphoned into his supression seals, and as such he tires quickly in battle. -Because of his above weakness, Vee relies heavily on his speed and his inventions in combat. Without either, he is vunerable. -Inflexibility in magic. Certain types of magic interfere with the spells woven into his body, and he cannot use, or be subjected to them. They are: - Any magic of a holy nature. This includes healing magic. - Any type of runes or glyphs. He cannot use them on his person - as they could clash with those already etched onto his person - but he can etch them onto objects. Even then, since much of his magical power goes to the supression seals, he can only use low level runes and glyphs. - He cannot wield iron weapons. Proximity to religious objects or places causes him discomfort.

  Strengths - When the demon takes over, it has the normal strengths of a demon, though they are weakened by the supression seals. - Things that are normally crippling to demons - religous paraphenelia and iron - have a their effectiveness reduced by half. Weaknesses - The surpression magic weakens it. Though still stronger than the average hunter, it is weak compared to other demons. To visualize, if a full demon has a strengh of 10, it has a strength of 7, which is still higher than than the hunters strength of 4. - Unlike other demons, it's magic is very weak. It can only cast low-level spells, and cannot use runes or glyphs at all. - It has a short duration of control, before the supression magic drags it back into Vee's mind.

  
  Arsenal(s):
  
  Modified Hauser 849 (completely made up) airship
  
  
  
  There are four levels below deck
  The first are living and working quarters for Vee and his crew.
  The second is a cargo-hold for normal business shipments.
  The third and fourth decks are not accessible by normal means. There are no stairs, and no doors which lead to them. The third a series of rooms, woven with protection and sealing magic for the transport of Collective artifacts and technology . The fourth, currently empty and still under contruction, is a prospective airbourne containment unit. It is crafted with reinforced allow of steel, sliver, and iron, with runes etched into the metal to make it light as enough for flight.
  -----------------------------
  Silver Chloride Bombs - effective against vampires. Releases SiCl2 gas upon detonation
  -----------------------------
  Wheeled Shoes - i.e. roller blades. His shoes have wheels he can extend or retract and tapping his heal on the ground. It gives him a speed boost in battle.
  -----------------------------
  Mech Hounds - A pack of weaponized, mechanized hounds. They are the size of a large wolves, and resemble a canine skeleton dipped in metal. Each is equipped with a revolver that extends from the mouth, foot-long, blade-like fangs, silver-knife claws, a long, whip-like tail, tipped with a spiked-flail, and a bladed metal frill, also of silver, down the spine. The ammunition and mechanism of each dog is housed within the ribcage. Ammo various from silver chloride bombs, to bullets to shrapnel. Some are equipped with pounches filled with toxic gases, also released through the mouth.
  They have keen 'hearing'; each has drum within the ear that detects sound waves, and distinguises them by their frequency. They detect movement much like a bat, emitting soundwaves and determining location and distance according to the feedback.
  Since they are not aritifically intelligent, they will attack anything living if directed, friend or foe. Vee's crew members wear a device on their wrist that makes a small clicking sound, from clockwork gears within; the hounds will not attack anything emitting this particular frequency.
  Other weaponry varies.
  Weaknesses
  -They cannot attack spirits or ghosts, since they have no physical form
  -Since they are not aritifically intelligent, they will attack anything living if directed, friend or foe. Vee's crew members wear a device on their wrist that makes a small clicking sound, from clockwork gears within; the hounds will not attack anything emitting this particular frequency.
  
  - Vunerable to magic. They are programmed to detect and react to movement and sound. Magic of certain natures emit neither.
  -----------------------------
  Gun-Tether - Another invention of his. It is a metal box which, mounted to his lower back by a harness that buckles about his hips. Within is a spool of metal cord; the type of metal varies, but usually, he has the one of steel or silver equipped. Welded to either end of either end of the cord are clasps, to which can be attached his blades, guns, hooks, and other implements he's modfied to fit within.
  Adapted Weapons
  - 9mm mauser C96 pistol (2), with a extra rounds
  - German saber
  - Iron grapping hook, tipped with silver
  -----------------------------
  Other Weapons
  - Gewerhr 98 Bolt Action rifle, with extra rounds
  - a small dagger, always tucked into his boot, for sticky situations
  Power(s): To be added
  
  
  
• 
  Personality:
  Vee's accented, poor posture, ever-present flask, and smooth tongue give the impression that he is uneducated, lazy, skirt-chasing drunk. It's all part of the act. He's a man of many masks, and which he wears depends on situation and prospect.
  
  Through his mask, he views the world with eyes unclouded by emotion. Logic, cold and objective, is the clearest lens. Life itself is an experiment: the entire world a variable, those around him subjects, and himself, the researcher. There is always something to be learned, something to be gained.
  
  His passion for scientific progress borders on obsession, and his curiosity is both his greatest strength and his starkest weakness. It leads him to brilliant discoveries, but takes a path far too close to death.
  
  Soceity views morals as black and white. Vee sees morals in varying shades of grey. His view on supernaturals are much the same. They are subjects of a different kind, not to be feared but studied. With caution. He himself is an example of what happens when one is careless, after all.
  
  But oddly, he does not view his posession as a burden, not any longer. Rather it is an opportunity to understand the elusive, to improve on the established, and, most importantly, prevent the tragic.
  
  
  Background:
  When Vee was a child, his father would lull him to sleep with tales of the great hunters. Of men and women of power and skill, who scarficed life and limb and mind to beat back the scrouge of inhumanity. Taofeek, the skull king, who raised armies of the dead to fight as his side. Dullah, the good vampire, who brought justice onto his darker bretheren. Kallisah, the assassin, who weilded the shadows of the enemy. And his favorite Vee, the greatest hunter of them all, for which all the men of his family were named.
  For Vee, safe behind the towering walls of wealth and nobility, these were mere stories. 'The scourge is something suffered by the poor,' his mother told him, 'Here beside your father and I, we are safe from the darkness that plauges the world'. Yet, Vee felt that darkness encrouching. He saw it in his fathers eyes, those rare times when he turned from the man he loved dearly into a monster he knew not. He saw it in the tears that streaked his mothers cheeks and the bruises that marked her skin. He saw it in the cloaked strangers that came to the castle in the cover and night and the symbols that covered every inch of his fathers skin.
  
  It was not till he was a teen that he learned the truth, a night when he was roused from sleep by screams and opened his eyes to find the bedtime stories coming to life around him.
  
  Fire and death surrounding him.
  
  HIs father standing over the body of his mother, twisted beyond recognition.
  
  A collosal shadow that glowed with the malice of million eyes.
  
  Pain, so intense that every cell in his body seemed to scream.
  
  Voices, filling his head, screams, laughter, and a whispered promise of power, if he would only give in.
  
  Cloaked figures flooded the room. At their head was a woman, with skin the the color of chocolate and eyes glowed with power. Above the screams of the dying, Vee heard chants. His cells screamed louder. One by one, the cloaked figures fell, and when the last black cloth whispered to the ground, there was peace.
  
  No more screams, no more laughter
  
  Only the woman remained, and her touch upon his fevered skin felt like that of an angel.
  
  Only the whisper still sounded, quiet and full of seductive promise.
  
  The demon's name was Fear. That's what told him, in his nightmares. According to the woman, Aminat, she was his guardian, and the demon a family legacy. The tales his father told him were not tales, but family history that started with the first Vee. His great great great grandfather had been a wealthy plantation owner. According to legend, he bought a piece of land which was once the sacred ground of a cult of demon worshippers. His cultivation of the land descreated the forgotten shrine, and awakened the demon to which it was dedicated. It posessed him, and the man once known for being unusally kind to his slaves became a monster.
  
  With his wealth and political power he brought the village he presided over to its knees. The creatures he once dedicated his life to slaying reigned free. To keep them satisfied, he feed them the souls of his people.
  
  The Europeans said it was madness.
  
  The Africans knew it was something more.
  
  The hunters agreed.
  
  With the souls of their fallen, the power of their homeland, and the help of the hunters the slaves seized their master back from the demon, and locked it away in the darkest recesses of his mind. The most powerful among them was broken from his chains and appointed as his protector. He taught and helped him to keep the demon at bay.
  
  The african's name was Taofeek.
  
  And so the demon became a legacy. To keep it from breaking free, this demon is passed down to the eldest child of each generation, sealed within them. They are taught the seals and magic needed to keep it at bay, and a protector, a decendents of Taofeek, is appointed to them.
  
  Vee is his fathers eldest child. His proector, a powerful necromancer named Aminat.
  
  Upon learning this dark history, Vee fled. He came under the care of an inventor and scientist who called himself Ai. The man became like a father to him, and sparked his imagination and his curiosity. With his innovations, the man performed the task of Vee's protector. He taught him to carry his burden not with resentment but with determination. To tread the earth not with dread but with purpose. To view the inhuman not with fear but with curisoity.
  
  But Vee had run into very world he had fleed from. Ai was brutally slaughtered, and upon investigating his death, Vee discovered that Ai had been a member of The Franklin Collective, a Containment specialist and transporter. His shipping business had a front for far darker activities. His research had been.
  
  THe man had been on the verge of a breakthough. And in a letter to Vee, he urged his adopted son to continue his work.
  
  As if summoned by his guardians will, an invitation to the collective came.
  
  Though he loathed to return to his father's world, Vee joined the collective, and continued the legacy of both his father and his guardian: hosting the demon, with his protector at his side, and coducting research, to develop weapons for a new generation of hunters.
  
  
  

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

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[div class="quote quoteTop"]I'm starting to think that maybe [/div]
[div class="quote quoteMid"] I'm a better ghost [/div]
[div class="quote quoteBot"] then I was a human being [/div]
[/div][div class=flex][div class=image][div class=imageInside][/div][div class=imageShadow][/div][/div][div class=contentHolder][div class=contentShadow][/div][div class=content][div class=name]William Knight

Detective

[/div][div class=tabs][div class=tab]General[/div][div class=tab]Persona[/div][div class=tab]Physique[/div][div class=tab]Abilities[/div][/div][div class=tabContentHolder]
[div class="tabContent basicContent"][div class="tabShadow basicShadow"][/div][div class=scroll]
Name:
William Knight
Aliases:
"Detective Knight"
Knight
Will
Faction:
The Conglomerate
Age:
27
Gender:
Male
Race:
Ghost/Aiding Spirit
Nationality:
American (Texan)

[/div][/div]
[div class="tabContent personaContent"][div class="tabShadow personaShadow"][/div][div class=scroll]
Sexuality:
 Heterosexual

Personality:
 William Knight, dead man walking, the ghost without a home, and a dignified super-sleuth is overly ambitious and as his superiors would say "a general pain in the ass". He's always taking risks, following his gut, "living" in the moment kind of guy. He's a true gentleman in most cases and is usually self-controlled. He can come across as cold or unfeeling at times, but he is genuinely honest sometimes too honest and loyal to the few that he trusts. As a detective he is extremely observant and isn't quick to act unless he has all the facts. On the other hand, Knight will do anything to get information depending on the case and isn't above flirting, cheating, or stealing his way to the truth.

Background:

Spoiler

The thing about being dead is that you don't really remember much about how you lived. Will woke up one day in a cemetery, his body mauled beyond recognition and the only clue he had to who he was, was a locket that said 'William'. If that was really his name or not he didn't know, but it's the one he took. He was left alone for years, no one could see him, talk to him, it was slowly driving him insane. Until he met a wolf. A very specific wolf in fact. A detective who understood Will's plight and took the young ghost under his wing. The two worked side by side for years, bringing all sorts of criminals to justice. They were the batman and robin of the supernatural world.

That is until William's memories began to come back. With the flashes of the past mingling in his brain, he sought them out relentlessly and it was that craving to know who he was that got his partner killed. The man died in his arms (metaphorically) and no matter how hard William tried he couldn't heal him. Nothing could heal him. And the act of doing so almost pushed him over the edge. William Knight now walks a very a very fine line between ghost and demon. A line he isn't sure he won't be able to avoid crossing forever.

[/div][/div]
[div class="tabContent physiqueContent"][div class="tabShadow physiqueShadow"][/div][div class=scroll]

Spoiler

That human appearance tho
Hair Color
Black
Eye Color
Pure white (Previously brown)
Height
6'0"
Weight
190lbs He's weightless? Do Ghosts even weigh?
Skin Color
Deathly Pale around the face and shadowed black for the rest of his skin color. Previously tan
Body Type
Tall with a slender frame, yet looks to have the appearance of muscle even though he has no real physical body
Clothing
He wears a long tench coat made of shadow and sometimes you can see the suit underneath
Likes
+Coffee When he was alive
+Bringing monsters to justice
+Helping
+Cheesecake Again, got to be alive for that
+Finding the truth
Dislikes
-Entitled people
-Demons
-Feeling helpless
-Sitting still
Deepest Fears
Becoming what he hates
Falling in love
Isolation
Wasting Away
Being forgotten

[/div][/div]
[div class="tabContent extraContent"][div class="tabShadow extraShadow"][/div][div class=scroll]

Strengths
As a ghost his ability to ease-drop is unparalleled. He's also very good at forced possession which he doesn't like doing because it's a very demon thing to do. As a ghost he also has a natural healing ability which is super helpful.
Weaknesses
Talking to normal people, being seen, loyalty, not being able to connect with the living
Skillset
He has a very particular set of skills...mostly has to do with being a ghost and the ability to manipulate the world around him without most people noticing.
Equipment
None really, what good does equipment do when you're dead?
Powers/Abilites
Walk through walls, move objects, healing, possession

[/div][/div]
[/div][/div][/div][/div][/div]

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

I'm going to fix the Abilities tab in the morning but I have it all written

 

[The Shadow Realm]

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[div class="quote quoteTop"]I'm starting to think that maybe [/div]
[div class="quote quoteMid"] I'm a better ghost [/div]
[div class="quote quoteBot"] then I was a human being [/div]
[/div][div class=flex][div class=image][div class=imageInside]View attachment 427316[/div][div class=imageShadow][/div][/div][div class=contentHolder][div class=contentShadow][/div][div class=content][div class=name]William Knight

Detective

[/div][div class=tabs][div class=tab]General[/div][div class=tab]Persona[/div][div class=tab]Physique[/div][div class=tab]Abilities[/div][/div][div class=tabContentHolder]
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Name:
William Knight
Aliases:
"Detective Knight"
Knight
Will
Faction:
The Conglomerate
Age:
27
Gender:
Male
Race:
Ghost/Aiding Spirit
Nationality:
American (Texan)

[/div][/div]
[div class="tabContent personaContent"][div class="tabShadow personaShadow"][/div][div class=scroll]
Sexuality:
 Heterosexual

Personality:
 William Knight, dead man walking, the ghost without a home, and a dignified super-sleuth is overly ambitious and as his superiors would say "a general pain in the ass". He's always taking risks, following his gut, "living" in the moment kind of guy. He's a true gentleman in most cases and is usually self-controlled. He can come across as cold or unfeeling at times, but he is genuinely honest sometimes too honest and loyal to the few that he trusts. As a detective he is extremely observant and isn't quick to act unless he has all the facts. On the other hand, Knight will do anything to get information depending on the case and isn't above flirting, cheating, or stealing his way to the truth.

Background:

Spoiler

View attachment 427330

The thing about being dead is that you don't really remember much about how you lived. Will woke up one day in a cemetery, his body mauled beyond recognition and the only clue he had to who he was, was a locket that said 'William'. If that was really his name or not he didn't know, but it's the one he took. He was left alone for years, no one could see him, talk to him, it was slowly driving him insane. Until he met a wolf. A very specific wolf in fact. A detective who understood Will's plight and took the young ghost under his wing. The two worked side by side for years, bringing all sorts of criminals to justice. They were the batman and robin of the supernatural world.

That is until William's memories began to come back. With the flashes of the past mingling in his brain, he sought them out relentlessly and it was that craving to know who he was that got his partner killed. The man died in his arms (metaphorically) and no matter how hard William tried he couldn't heal him. Nothing could heal him. And the act of doing so almost pushed him over the edge. William Knight now walks a very a very fine line between ghost and demon. A line he isn't sure he won't be able to avoid crossing forever.

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Spoiler

View attachment 427323

That human appearance tho
Hair Color
Black
Eye Color
Pure white (Previously brown)
Height
6'0"
Weight
190lbs He's weightless? Do Ghosts even weigh?
Skin Color
Deathly Pale around the face and shadowed black for the rest of his skin color. Previously tan
Body Type
Tall with a slender frame, yet looks to have the appearance of muscle even though he has no real physical body
Clothing
He wears a long tench coat made of shadow and sometimes you can see the suit underneath
Likes
+Coffee When he was alive
+Bringing monsters to justice
+Helping
+Cheesecake Again, got to be alive for that
+Finding the truth
Dislikes
-Entitled people
-Demons
-Feeling helpless
-Sitting still
Deepest Fears
Becoming what he hates
Falling in love
Isolation
Wasting Away
Being forgotten

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[div class="tabContent abilitiesContent"][div class="tabShadow albilitiesShadow"][/div][div class=scroll]

Strengths
As a ghost his ability to ease-drop is unparalleled. He's also very good at forced possession which he doesn't like doing because it's a very demon thing to do. As a ghost he also has a natural healing ability which is super helpful.
Weaknesses
Talking to normal people, being seen, loyalty, not being able to connect with the living
Skillset
He has a very particular set of skills...mostly has to do with being a ghost and the ability to manipulate the world around him without most people noticing.
Equipment
None really, what good does equipment do when you're dead?
Powers/Abilites
Walk through walls, move objects, healing, possession

[/div][/div]
[/div][/div][/div][/div][/div]

Just gonna quote this so I can read the rest.

Accepted, you damn bbcode god. Wew.

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

Just gonna quote this so I can read the rest.

Accepted, you damn bbcode god. Wew.

Haha why thank you, I try. And I will get that fixed I promise

 

[Snackofthefuture]

Name: Victor Gaul
Alias: The Stormer
Age: 25
Gender: male
Sexuality: Straight/ace
Nationality: Scottish/German mix with Eastern European
Species: Former Thrall
Faction: The Corrupted Rose



-Physical Characteristics-

Hair Style-
Hair Color- Dirty Blonde
Eye Color- Golden
Skin Color- Caucasian on the pale side
Height- 5'11
weight- 160 lbs
Scars-
Many covering his body but most have faded to a point where they are difficult to see or notice
without actively looking for them.
Tattoos-
Two skulls, one on each shoulder blade
Body Type-
Fit and wiry with good upper body strength particularly in the forearms. Retains strength from time spent as
Vampiric Thrall, doesn't enjoy sun however even if it doesn't kill him
Clothing-
Pictured above for the most part along with casual time period accurate clothing

-Personal Information-

Likes-
Straightforward things, sports for the most part, meat, a challenge, the feeling of tearing down a foe through brute force
Dislikes-
Spies, schemers, pastries, rodents, the oceans
Goal(s)-
To defend the weak against the dark creatures of the world and kill some vampires.
Your Deepest Fears-
Being weak, immobilization, drowning
Personality-
A man of many words and many actions, Gaul is a shock trooper for the order of The Corrupted Rose. Tested in conflicts around the world, confident in his strength and adaptable in battle, Gaul
needs no guidance when it comes to violence. Outside of combat, Gaul suffers from an identity crisis, flashbacks, insomnia and a near overwhelming urge to serve, as his
time as a Thrall damaged his mind and ripped apart his individuality. In short hes a tough talkative guy who's confident in his physical abilities but not his mental ones which control him
and torment him night and day. His determination however allows him to push through, taking it all in stride and still accomplishing his goals.

Background: The son of a German merchant and a Scottish shepherd's daughter, Gaul was born in a small cottage in the countryside.
He spent his early life, his first ten years in that cottage, being taught about the world by his grandfather until tragedy struck, "tragedy" being vampires. Killing his grandfather and removing his freewill
Gaul was made into a servant/bloodbag until sixteen. At this point his lord placed him in the ranks of his battle thralls, giving him minor combat training and experience, allowing him to rise to a position of influence. Lacking any sort of freewill however kept Gaul in a place of servitude until he was nineteen. Days before his birthday, his master on the run from Corrupted Rose mercenaries, Gaul's connection was severed, he was free at last. However he was free in a completely foreign country, that being Turkey. Somehow managing to join up with the mercenaries, Gaul was trained for a time as they hunted his former master, until finally they lost his scent. He had escaped.
Gaul never forgets this, he keeps it on his mind constantly, being one of his main drives in life. His drive and lust for revenge has often times saved him from otherwise fatal situations,
but has at other times placed him in weirdly uncomfortable situations. Gaul has spent the last couple years however serving a small sect of the Corrupted Rose, it's objectives unknown to all but it's most senior members.

-Abilities/Skills/Equipment-
Strengths-
Has the physical prowess of the undead and the stamina to boot.
Obeys orders quite well.
Determined and steadfast.
Confident in his abilities.
Trained by members of The Corrupted Rose and his former Vampire Lord.
Can handle melee weapons with ease.
Understands combat and how to succeed in it.
Decent with guns as he's had to use them a lot in his career.

Weaknesses-
Suffers from flashbacks and seizures.
The sun aggravates him.
Not great at swimming.
Hates rodents.
Not very smart, not stupid but not intelligent either.

Skillset

Equipment- Owns a blessed axe and mace
Carries vial of holy water with him

Thistle- a custom made revolver given to Gaul in Germany, holds twelve rounds.

Nikita Type 52, carbinated rifle developed by The Corrupted Rose's backers, holds twenty rounds.
Powers/Abilites-
incredible strength
Will of iron
Hardened teeth

 

[GrieveWriter]

Sgt. Gooding and Professor Laquado​

• Sergeant Gooding
• Professor Laquado

• 
  
  ​
  Spoiler: General

  Name: Joseph Socrates Gooding
  
  Alias: Old Boy/Bat, The Sergeant
  
  Age: 122
  
  Gender: Male
  
  Sexuality: Heterosexual
  
  Nationality: American
  
  Species: Vampire
  
  Faction: The Conglomerate
  
  
  Spoiler: Physical Characteristics

  Hair Style: Military Standard Buzz Cut
  
  Hair Color: Burnt Brown
  
  Eye Color: Pale Green, easily considered silver in certain lights
  
  Skin Color: Pale
  
  Height: 5 ft 6 in
  
  Weight: 186 pounds
  
  Scars: Besides a rather notable gash scar along his lip from a brawl while he was human, Sergeant Gooding is surprisingly clear of most signs of physical trauma given his record. Apparently his most egregious wounds were suffered after his transformation, and many simply healed due to his physiology.
  
  Tattoos: None
  
  Body Type: The Sarge is practically the definition of stocky, shorter than the average man yet teeming with muscle even as a creature of the night.
  
  Clothing: The odd thing about the Sarge's apparel is the number of sources he's acquired it from. Initially he simply wore his Revolutionary military uniform, but there were enough gaps in it to keep him from slaying in the day. Then during a mission he ended up slaying the leader of a traveling circus who had been using his occupation to keep mobile and in victims easily in crowds. Gooding had liked his fashion sense and nicked his more covering apparel and simply mixed that with his uniform. After that he was tasked with helping exterminate a coven of cultists led by a fanatical Demon-Possessed man, who just so happened to have a ceremonial metal mask that the Old Boy had taken a liking to. By now his old uniform is obscured by most of the new stuff he's added on, but his attire is now fully protective against sunlight on all fronts.
  
  
  Spoiler: Personal Information

  Likes:
  

  • Trophies: The Sergeant makes a point to take some kind of memento from every single foe he's ever fallen, whether it be a piece of clothing or weapon or even a misshapen Molar. Some would say its out of respect for the combatants he's faced, but Gooding would say its just a reminder of how fun it was to kill them.
  • Edged Weapons: Times be damned, Old Boy remembered when the scariest thing any man could think of often involved some deranged bastard charging full force with a particularly sharp implement. But the War vet has been alive long enough to watch his preferred up close and personal method get replaced with all these nifty guns and whatnot. Well screw em! He's killed dozens of terrifying beasts and spooks without having to use a gun and he'll be damned sure to kill another hundred before he lays a finger on any firearm. Even his crossbow gets on his nerves sometimes for just how far away he can be while killing some poor sonuva bitch.
  • Hunting: Back during the war the Sergeant gained an appreciation for killing, enjoyed the simplicities of the battlefield. Liked how all forms of people could put down their backstabbing and disgusting tactics and just start murdering each other in the simplistic ways that founding fathers intended. But it was only after being turned that he learned the value in those tactics he once considered tools of cowardice. Back when he used to only go on night missions, it was necessary for her to become more stealthy like. Going from the proud lion to a sneaky rat with surprising ease. Despite his views on guns, Old Boy was able to accept the change in tactics against creatures off the night with open arms. Because let's face it, there just ain't enough time in our busy world to give every werewolf or Acolyte the pleasure of a good ass kicking. He'd definitely prefer it, but snooping around and taking an enemy by surprise was just as fulfilling in another manner.

  
  Dislikes
  
  

  • Guns( Longer the range the worst): As indicated by his love of all things sharp, Sgt. Gooding is immediately unimpressed with anyone who could wield a gun and consider themselves a true warrior. No propriety in the art of murder! When ya kill your enemy, you want to look 'em in the eye just so they die knowing who it was who cut them to bits! Or as best as you can when surrounded on all sides by other idealistic chumps looking to die the same way as pisscake numero uno. Going by the trend of the farther the worst, Old Boy hates snipers with a fiery passion. If a gun's a coward's weapon, then hiding about a mile off with a high powered rifle and simply picking off enemies with the full comfort of distance on your side makes you lesser than the average street mugger in the eyes of this Old Bat.
  • Type O blood: Something about the rarity of this particular brand of crimson delight just runs Mr. Gooding the wrong way. It's something he's always had trouble justifying, as it sustains him the same as any other blood, but the Sergeant will simply refuse Type O blood unless he's on the precise verge of death by starvation.
  • Professor Laquado

  
  Goal(s): Ah phooey, only big talkers worry about something like goals. Sgt. Gooding was blessed with the ability to serve his country by kicking the occult's ass and that's all he needs to worry about. Stuff like finding out how to turn human or worrying about adjusting to the changing world are just a bunch of philosophical nonsense that peddlers use to sell worthless self help guides. The only thing that this Old Boy needs to worry about is staying American and eventually dying for his country.
  
  Your Deepest Fear(s): For several decades now Sgt. Gooding has been plagued by this consistent nightmare that one night he'll wake up and find that his most prized machete had transformed into a gun. He and the monsters he uses it to butcher may know that such a thing has not come to pass, but the horror of the possibility is enough to keep him awake through some nights.
  
  Personality: Sgt. Gooding is probably the most stereotypical American soldier to ever walk the earth. One could easily imagine him playing a banjo out in the West American swamps with a loaded shotgun at his side. That is to say he's as old school as they come. He's actually quite the optimist, seeing every new situation as an opportunity to serve his country, it allowed him to adapt to the whole Vampire thing quicker than it would most. Of course, his hatred for guns coupled with their growing popularity amongst other Beast Slayers has seen him growing increasingly more dismissive of those he may have once considered comrades. If it weren't for his own stubbornness he may have been the top agent in the Conglomerate, but his refusal to use guns coupled with the fact that he just couldn't maximize efficiency with a large portion of his compatriots left him stagnant as a glorified exterminator for quite a number of years. He had no qualms with this, his goal was to serve his country and as long as he could continue wiping out any potential paranormal threats then he was complacent. He's a simple guy, Vampire curse or not he wasn't gonna go complaining like a petulant child because his own faults kept holding him back. Faults are what kept him human, faults are what keeps any and everyone human, and he refused to try changing his beliefs for something as menial as a title.
  
  Background: Joseph Gooding was never what one could call a Scholar, if he couldn't solve his problems that he couldn't solve with brute force or martial prowess then they weren't problems which he considered important. As a rambunctious kid growing up in America he would often get into fights and brawls while his parents struggled to convince him of the benefits of an education. Lil' Joe knew that there was a place in the world for the thinkers, but he also knew from the get go that he wasn't one. So instead off wasting his parents time and money he left, set out into the wilderness to find something that required a more physical approach. He didn't get far before being caught by his Uncle, who had set up a hunting lodge outside of his hometown after being casted out from the rest of the family. Now Uncle Gooding had tried to teach Joseph the rejuvenating effects of a good hunt, but Joseph found another alternative he damned well couldn't pass up.
  
  Now some would say going into the military as young as he did was putting the rest of his life on the line, but Joseph was never one to care about gambling as long as the game was thrilling. And though he felt awkward wielding a musket, it was shocking how much better a rifle could be made by sticking a large knife on the end. He served in the Revolutionary war with gusto, never caring much about the larger stakes or the suffering that both sides endured, all he could bother to care about was that every British soldier he killed was another tiny victory for the colonies. He was a monster in battle, despite his ratio of musket to bayonet kills being grossly disproportionate. Although his simple minded approach to combat never allowed him to rise through the ranks quickly like his contemporaries, his sheer knack for outlasting the opposition earned him titles amongst his fellow soldiers. It was a slow process, but eventually he was on his way to becoming a full Fledged Sergeant of the newly independent land of America. Or at least, he would've been had the Vamp not gotten to him.
  
  Near the end of the war Gooding and another company of soldiers had been tasked with corpse clearing after a much larger battle they hadn't had the pleasure of partaking in. What they didn't know was that they were removing the food source of a particularly feral creature which had been only one of the many which had been using the war as an excuse to gorge themselves.
  
  It just so happened that this particular creature was unwilling to wait for the next battle in order to sate it's thirst. That night, it had crept among the corpsmen, and was convinced that the sleeping, soon to be Sergeant would be easy pickings.
  
  It was wrong... so very very wrong.
  
  They'd all called him paranoid for keeping his bayonet close in the night, said he was crazy for waiting till every other soldier near him was sound asleep before slumbering, and laughed when he insisted that a true soldier was ready to kill 24/7 sleep be damned. Well who was laughing now!?! Certainly not the monster he'd gored the second he realized what was happening. Though a struggle to be sure, Gooding was the one who survived the fight in the nearby woods. Bleeding and wounded sure, but as long as he was the one who came out on top what were a couple grievous wounds? He should've probably bled to death that night had the change not taken place.
  
  Joseph Gooding was officially considered MIA for the next twenty years, with no trace of him being found by his fellow soldiers. In fact, it was only when the Conglomerate had been created had its first agents picked up his trail. Convinced that he was one of the beasts from legends, Gooding had spent the next twenty years trying to continue serving his country by using his newfound abilities to take the lives of any and all beats, men or otherwise who sought to sully the free will of the American people. Gooding was actually one of the Conglomerate's first big cases, having tracked his Patriotic path of destruction right to the old vet. Upon realizing how much loyalty he held for his country, there was no doubt who he'd be fighting on behalf of from that point on. Now able to serve his country once more, everything seemed to be going Gooding. That was until he ran into Laquado.
  
  
  Spoiler: Abilities/Skills/Equipment

  Strengths:
  

  • Vampire physiology: Now Gooding is an old bat, nowhere near the ancients of legend but he's been around long enough to work and train with what he's got. Coupled with the fact that he was a fearsome soldier before his transformation and the commendable strength and speed he employs in combat should be expected.
  • Blade Master: As a stalwart advocate of the old days of cutting things up, Gooding is exceptionally talented at close quarters Swordplay. From a pocket knife to a machete to a fancy cutlass, in the Sergeant's hands they go from dangerous to downright lethal.
  • Adaptable Combatant: Though not one for coming up with tactics himself, Gooding is extremely aware of patterns in enemy fighting styles and will quickly move to develop counters on the fly. As such, its very difficult to fight him long term without employing a variety of damage capabilities.

  
  Weaknesses:
  

  • Long Range: Given his refusal to use full-fledged firearms, any enemy with a gun will have range advantage over Gooding. Mid rang he still has his crossbow and can throw a blade with practiced ease, but anything longer than that he will need to close the distance before he can do anything.
  • Stubborn to a Fault: It may just be his old nature, but Gooding is exceptionally difficult to handle when he's certain of something. Whether it be a specific tactic in battle or whether or how views a specific person, he's extremely hard to change his viewpoints. In fact, the only method by which it is known to get him to move past his stubborn nature is from specific orders by the heads of the Conglomerate. And even then, the few things about himself that he will change on their behalf will be done begrudgingly and half-heartedly.
  • Vampire Weaknesses: Though his Vampiric form gives him far more physical power than his human body could output, he's now burdened with the same weaknesses as any other Bloodsucker. From Religious signs to the ever present hounding of the sun, any trained hunter should know what to try.

  
  Skillset:
  

  • Blade throwing: While this usually pertains to knives, and time has certainly fleshed out the Sergeant's ability to launch blades, he's become well versed in throwing almost anything as long as its sharp. Probably to make up for his complete disproval of guns, Gooding's become quite adept at throwing sharp implements both small and large.
  • Swordplay: Despite having no formal training, the sheer amount of time that Gooding's spent wielding blades has culminated in him being able to hold his own against better trained opponents.
  • Hunting: Something he's worked on greatly during his time in the Conglomerate, when convinced that a good hunt is necessary Gooding can make quite the surprisingly stealthy stalker. His ability to track down opponents is only heightened by his vampiric senses.

  
  Equipment:
  

  • The R.R.C (Repurposed Repeater Crossbow): Pretty much the only definitive ranged weapon you will ever see Gooding wield, the R.R.C was initially a crossbow recommended for him by his superiors after seeing his blatant refusal to use guns. Gooding was still unsatisfied, and had the weapon modified until he could finally wield it with some measure of pride. However, due to its modifications one could be hard pressed to call it a proper crossbow any more. The R.R.C actually rapidly fires metal stakes when used, however due to the wait of the stakes its range is far poorer than any other crossbow. However, its is this lack of range that Gooding specifically enjoys about the weapon, as he takes quite a bit of satisfaction of filling an opponent with an unrelenting stream of sharp metal from close by. It can only be properly utilized at shotgun range, can be loaded with either regular or silver stakes, and when unloaded can be folded up for easier transport.
  • The Six Skinners: When working, Gooding keeps a minimum of Six Machetes on him, each light yet sinisterly sharp. He calls them his skinners, and although there is no record of him actually skinning a beast with them, the serrated edges of each blade would definitely be able to do work upon a carcass.
  • The Seventeen Surprises: In keeping with his blade motif, Gooding has seventeen small throwing knives hidden on his person. Though they would make a poor excuse for a conventional weapon due to their size, Gooding's blade throwing skills make them a danger all on their own.
  • Final Flayer: A cross shaped dagger Gooding carries with him more on principle than anything else. Its actually a trophy he took from a Cultist he slew when hunting another vampire years ago. Though he has none of the faith to make it viable against his fellow creatures of the knight, it is a sharp blade and he refuses to let it go unutilized.

  
  Powers/Abilites
  
  Vampiric Sense: Similar to his physical powers, Gooding has acquired superhuman senses due to his transformation. With enhanced sight and hearing he's able to hunt more efficiently, though any experienced Vampire killer knows how to turn such a thing against him.
  
  Quick Recovery: Gooding recovers from battles far faster than he has any right to. Provided he can get away from conflict, he can recover from even the most lethal of wounds within two hours.
  
  Crimson Fuel: As should be stated for most monsters, consuming blood enhances Gooding's abilities momentarily. Everything from the strength to his healing is far more viable when he's recently fed.
• 
  
  ​
  Spoiler: General

  Name: Virgil Seymour Laquado
  
  Alias: The Professor, The Archivist,
  
  Age: 52
  
  Gender: Male
  
  Sexuality: Heterosexual
  
  Nationality: American
  
  Species: Human
  
  Faction: The Conglomerate
  
  
  Spoiler: Physical Characteristics

  Hair Style: A rather swell looking slicked back style accompanied his usually well rimmed moustache, a gentleman must present himself properly.
  
  Hair Color: Black
  
  Eye Color: A rather standard shade of blue
  
  Skin Color: Caucasian
  
  Height: 5'10"
  
  Weight: 150
  
  Scars: This dandy fellow's skin is remarkably unblemished
  
  Tattoos: Not a mark.
  
  Body Type: The Professor is rather standard in physique, though his height does make him look thinner than he actually is. Since joining the Conglomerate he's become far more lean with muscle due to his assignments.
  
  Clothing: Professor Laquado always dresses appropriately for any occasion, though of course focusing a bit more on presentation than his contemporaries. His standard attire for missions is a rather simple set of brown pants to go with his light blue suit jacket and vest combo. To be frank many of his cohorts have likened his attire to that of a train conductor. And though his travelling satchel and the odd pair of goggles he keeps strapped to his hat may hint to the more adventurous traits of his occupation, Laquado could easily blend into a standard bunch of civilians.
  
  
  Spoiler: Personal Information

  Likes:
  
  

  • Social gatherings: A proper get together always brings a bit of joy to the Scholar's face, as they are always venues for obtaining information and making allies where they are needed most. The Professor also simply enjoys getting to flaunt his wealth of information where he can, as he has worked considerably hard to obtain it. He should be allowed to feel good about his accomplishments, should he not? With all the risk that an occupation such as his holds, Laquado is determined to remind all of the discoveries he's made before he may eventually meet his maker.
  • Occult History: Laquado is intrinsically addicted to learning as much as possible about the history of the occult, as such, any leads enabling him to further expand his knowledge on the subject are greatly appreciated. Despite being part of the Conglomerate for over a decade, he still alights with the same absolute joy that he did when he first discovered something of historical importance. He hold no qualms for his blatant enjoyment of discovery, for every single new found tidbits draws him closer and closer to his ultimate goal.
  • A Well Maintained Rifle: Laquado cared not for weaponry of any kind until he began associating with the Conglomerate , when he was of a more simple occupation he believed that violence was to be left to soldiers while the more aristocratic folk like himself focused on making true strides for the betterment of mankind. However, as he became more and more invested in the occult the dear Professor realized that the best method for keeping to his goals while staying alive was to put an absolutely devastating gun between him and any potential opposition. He respected the power that his rifle gives him, the ability to survive against beasts of unimaginable horror. As such, keeping such a tool in tip top condition became one of his favorite hobbies besides the usual research and archiving.

  
  Dislikes:
  

  • Being Challenged Intellectually: Laquado can be a patient man, can be accepting of many things that may fray the natural defenses of the more meager masses. But one thing he finds absolutely no tolerance for whatsoever is when one seeks to compare their mental capacity to his. Let everyone be who they believe they wish to be, he's no time for other's personal self-quandaries. But do keep those quandaries contained, for not a single person could ever feel more pitiable than when trying to denounce the Professor's stores of knowledge. He's spent years filling his mind with as much intrinsic details about the world of beasts and men as the Conglomerate will allow him, and he will not have those efforts be dismissed by some no doubt inferior cretin seeking only to pull their natural betters down to their festering filth mound of a level.
  • Ignorance of Any and All forms- From those unable to garner an education for themselves to those who are simply unwilling, the Professor has nos semblance of pity for any of them. Knowledge is in fact the greatest weapon of all, and those who refuse to avail it of themselves are merely standing in the blood soaked battlefield of life with naught a spoon to defend themselves of its cruelty. They are destined to be used and abused by those with the fortitude or will to arm themselves, and there's no ifs ands or buts about it. They are the same as any other tool to be used, I just takes an untellect to make use of it.
  • That damnable Brutish ignoramus known as Sergeant Gooding is far too much of a bottom feeding muscle-brained waste to be allowed to have the power that he does.

  
  
  
  Goal(s): Professor Laquado is not one to aim low, for one day he seeks to stand above all other scholars in his field by recovering the Sword of King Arthur and going down in history as the brilliant mind he deserves to be recognized as.
  
  Your Deepest Fear(s): Professor Laquado harbors a fear many seem to misplace. He doesn't fear death, as it is merely a natural process in the cycle of life. No, his greatest fear is being forgotten like ninety-nine percent of the rabble that inhabit the earth. He refuses to fade away like the rest of the short sighted masses, refuses to be forgotten among the mountain of ash that accounts for all who had perished on this planet. Balls to immortality if it demands you hide from the world, the only true method for staying alive once the body is gone is by searing oneself into the very annals of history. The men and women who changed the world will never be forgotten, and Laquado fears dying before he is able to join their ranks.
  
  Personality: Upon initial meetings one would find Virgil Laquado to be anything other than a charming intellect with a good head on his shoulders and input for almost all subjects. He's courteous, gentlemanly and always ready to offer assistance or advise should someone need it. He's quick witted and sharp tongued, a standard for high society aristocrats, which he has been confused for several times. With all these it's no wonder he's considered one of the more diplomatic agents in the Conglomerate, he just has a knack for presentation.
  
  But that's all it is.... presentation.
  
  The Professor is actually quite the egomaniac to an extent, and has an inflated sense of self-worth due in no small part to his fear of being forgotten. Some may say his dedication to leaving a mark on history has become an obsession to an extent, but hardly anyone could tell due to his talent for presentation. Looking at the guy, one would never be able to tell just how much he considers himself above others, one would never be able to sense just how much he looks down upon others simply because he considers himself smarter. His facade is steel tight, and he keeps it maintained to such a degree that he can even convince himself of his own lies.
  
  But of course, as long as he seemed like the charming intellect he strives to portray himself as there's no real issue then.
  
  Background: Virgil Laquado was never what one would consider a fighter. In fact, his entire early years can be summarized rather easily as a constant accumulation of knowledge. Virgil was always able to comprehend things that his peers struggled with, always managed to rise above using his mind's impressive aptitude. He never had to worry about those other children who saw his intelligence as an insult, because he could always simply outsmart them. It went that way until he became a recognized intellect and was licensed to teach others as a professor. It was here, passing his substantial accumulation of information to the next generation that he began developing his fear of being added to the billions who never managed to get into the books he taught others of. And so, Professor Laquado began using his position as an excuse to try and make himself remembered. After several fruitless endeavors, Laquado eventually found a lead in the form of a newly discovered series of ruins which could hold any number of historically significant finds within.
  
  And so, with a bit of clever wordplay here and there, Laquado convinced his students that studying the ruins was part of a new curriculum he'd set up for them. He may have lied a bit to enlist their help, but even he was unaware of the true dangers within those ruins. For you see, they had actually been a meeting place for a coven of cultists. Soon Laquado's field trip turned into a fight for survival as he and the students were hunted through the various caves of the ruins. Despite the odds, Laquado and several others survived several days trapped in those caves, hiding from the cultists like rats until opportunity presented itself. When push came to shove in those final moments, Laquado left his last students behind to distract the cultists while he escaped...
  
  Only to immediately run into Conglomerate agents.
  
  An entire class of students going missing in ruins linked with the Occult had necessitated quick response. And so a team of Monster Hunters led by Sergeant Gooding arrived at the entrance Ruins just in time to find the Professor in the midst of his escape. Initially afraid of a potential leak to the populace, the Agents were pleased to find Laquado more than cooperative. With the knowledge he gained while trapped in the ruins, Laquado helped the Agents in eradicating the Cultists inside. Laquado was opportunistic, immediately offering to continue aiding the Conglomerate as long as he could learn with them. Having already proved the worth of his aid, he was allowed to join on the condition he train in combat. He was paired with Sergeant Gooding since they actually worked rather well together during the Cultist extermination. In fact, at first they seemed like they'd become quick friends.
  
  But then the Professor mentioned his inclination to use a Sniper Rifle.
  
  That was the start, for soon began the most well known internal strife in Conglomerate history. As Laquado became more acquainted with the Agency, he and the Sergeant began realizing just how many things they hated about each other. They began contesting whenever they were in each other's presence, arguing turned to insults and soon there wasn't a day that went by without the two finding something new to hate about the other. This behavior spread to their work, for any assignment the two were placed on together they would spend a majority of time contesting with each other. It got to the point where the two started trying to avoid each other, neither wishing their consistent hate for the other to get in the way of their own goals.
  
  And then they were assigned as partners.
  
  In a stunning turn of events, it was discovered by their superiors that their efficiency practically doubled when on assignment together. Despite their constant arguing, it was found that their specific skills counteracted the others negative traits. The very thing that made them hate each other was what allowed them to function better than most pairings in the Conglomerate. And so they were forced to work together for the entirety of the American Civil War, where the results spoke for themselves. They've been stuck working together since then, their loyalty to the Conglomerate being the only thing keeping them from killing each other.
  
  
  Spoiler: Abilities/Skills/Equipment

  Strengths:
  

  • Marksman: The Professor may not have the heightened sight of a beast, but if he catches sight of a target they would need the superhuman speed of one to even have a chance of dodging one of his shots. Laquado absolutely dominates at Long Range, requiring proper use of cover and distraction to close distance without being gunned down.
  • Encyclopedic Knowledge: Laquado's store of information is nothing to sneeze at, he compartmentalizes tidbits of information as simply as filing a paper. He can and undoubtedly will pull from this store of knowledge in order to gain advantages in combat.
  • Defensive Trickster: Laquado's close range combat skills are abysmal, which is why he employs a series of evasive tactics centered on dodging and distancing when close to an opponent. From smoke bombs to feints to confusing footwork, the Professor will do anything and everything he can to get back to long range where he has the advantage.

  
  Weaknesses:
  

  • Close Range: Though he's considerably tricky to pin down, there's no denying that anyone who closes the distance to the Professor gains the combat advantage. At that point the best thing he could hope to do is avoid attacks at that point.
  • Just a Man: Though his Marksman skills are good enough to pin down some of the toughest beasts, Laqaudo is still human. He doesn't have the stamina for long drawn out battles, nor does he have the strength or speed of his partner. Heck, his actual battle training could be considered child's play compared to most Monster Hunters. In truth it's his mind and weaponry that allows Laquado to stand at the same rungs as other great slayers out there.
  • Know It All- Similar to his Partner's stubbornness, Laquado is extremely arrogant when it comes to his intelligence. If he believes that he knows the solution based on his own thought work then there is little that one can do to convince him otherwise. He refuses to believe he's capable of being wrong in terms of intelligence, and that makes it hard for him to except the input of other more thoughtful beings. He's more than willing to absorb new knowledge from others, but when contested on a subject he's akready familiar with he see's it as a slight against him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  Skillset:
  
  

  • Sniper: When given a proper perch and an open field of view, Laqudo's marksman skills can shut down entire avenues. With his precise shooting he's skilled enough to hit any regular human opponent, as only a monster would be able to summon the speed necessary to evade his rounds.
  • Deception: Laquado is inherently versed in the art of deception, and is capable of passing off a number of lies as truth with absolute efficiency.
  • Escape Artist: Laquado has little qualms with fleeing from a battle he feels he cannot win, and has become so familiar with escaping risky situations that it's become somewhat of an art for him

  
  Equipment (If any)
  

  • Wildthorn Type 44 Model Rifle- Laquado's primary weapon of choice, the Wildthorn doubles as both a sniper rifle and a carbine due to its meticulously crafted air pressure based propulsion system. Basically its got two fire modes, the single shot and the semi-automatic. Single shot is used when enough force needs to be built behind the bullet to penetrate from long distances. When Semi-Automatic the bullets are primed much quicker and therefore have less force but more speed. In truth the entire thing was designed to be a better sniper rifle, Laquado simply utilizes the Semi-Automatic function when an opponent is rapidly closing distance and he needs more bullets between he and them. Also, due too its sturdy construction, the Wildthorn T-44 is quite usable as a blunt weapon, although Laquado merely uses it to divert attacks should he be unable to dodge them.
  • Flash Pellets: Utilized in his Trickster method of evasion, Laquado may throw down flash pellets mid battle to disorient nearby opponents and give himself a chance to flee. However, unlike a full-Fledged Flash bang the range of these pellets is severely limited. Therefore they must be utilized suddenly and abruptly in order to limit a foe's chance to react to them.
  • Fouler Bombs- Glorified stink bombs stuffed with as many overpowering scents as one could fit into a measly ball. Laquado specifically had these designed these to overpower those sensitive to smell, however he soon realized that literally anyone who could smell was left overwhelmed by the stench and began using them in conjunction with Flash Pellets. Unlike the pellets, the Foulers can be avoided with simple distance, meaning they must be activated without an opponents awareness in order to trap them in its range. Countered by the usual series of gas masks and whatnot.
  • Mayan Eye Goggles- An offshoot of the Collective's Third Eye Goggles, the Mayan Eye are supposed to serve as an alternative should the Conglomerate and the Franklin Collective ever fully turn on one another. Though there are some kinks to work out, the Mayan Eye is capable of enhancing and defending vision, although its ability to reveal specters to agents is a bit... iffy.

  
  Powers/Abilites
  

  • Light and Limber- Laquado's particular tactics would be impossible for him were it not for how nimble he was on his feet. Though he can't match the speed of a vampire he's most definitely one you should think twice before taking your eyes off of.
  • Gunslinger- Though he will always choose his Wildthorn over contemporary weapons, Laquado is capable of wielding a variety of guns, and will seek out the nearest on should his rifle be made unavailable to him.

 

[The Shadow Realm]

Sgt. Gooding and Professor Laquado​

• Sergeant Gooding
• Professor Laquado

• 
  
  View attachment 427792​
  Spoiler: General

  Name: Joseph Socrates Gooding
  
  Alias: Old Boy/Bat, The Sergeant
  
  Age: 122
  
  Gender: Male
  
  Sexuality: Heterosexual
  
  Nationality: American
  
  Species: Vampire
  
  Faction: The Conglomerate
  
  
  Spoiler: Physical Characteristics

  Hair Style: Military Standard Buzz Cut
  
  Hair Color: Burnt Brown
  
  Eye Color: Pale Green, easily considered silver in certain lights
  
  Skin Color: Pale
  
  Height: 5 ft 6 in
  
  Weight: 186 pounds
  
  Scars: Besides a rather notable gash scar along his lip from a brawl while he was human, Sergeant Gooding is surprisingly clear of most signs of physical trauma given his record. Apparently his most egregious wounds were suffered after his transformation, and many simply healed due to his physiology.
  
  Tattoos: None
  
  Body Type: The Sarge is practically the definition of stocky, shorter than the average man yet teeming with muscle even as a creature of the night.
  
  Clothing: The odd thing about the Sarge's apparel is the number of sources he's acquired it from. Initially he simply wore his Revolutionary military uniform, but there were enough gaps in it to keep him from slaying in the day. Then during a mission he ended up slaying the leader of a traveling circus who had been using his occupation to keep mobile and in victims easily in crowds. Gooding had liked his fashion sense and nicked his more covering apparel and simply mixed that with his uniform. After that he was tasked with helping exterminate a coven of cultists led by a fanatical Demon-Possessed man, who just so happened to have a ceremonial metal mask that the Old Boy had taken a liking to. By now his old uniform is obscured by most of the new stuff he's added on, but his attire is now fully protective against sunlight on all fronts.
  
  
  Spoiler: Personal Information

  Likes:
  

  • Trophies: The Sergeant makes a point to take some kind of memento from every single foe he's ever fallen, whether it be a piece of clothing or weapon or even a misshapen Molar. Some would say its out of respect for the combatants he's faced, but Gooding would say its just a reminder of how fun it was to kill them.
  • Edged Weapons: Times be damned, Old Boy remembered when the scariest thing any man could think of often involved some deranged bastard charging full force with a particularly sharp implement. But the War vet has been alive long enough to watch his preferred up close and personal method get replaced with all these nifty guns and whatnot. Well screw em! He's killed dozens of terrifying beasts and spooks without having to use a gun and he'll be damned sure to kill another hundred before he lays a finger on any firearm. Even his crossbow gets on his nerves sometimes for just how far away he can be while killing some poor sonuva bitch.
  • Hunting: Back during the war the Sergeant gained an appreciation for killing, enjoyed the simplicities of the battlefield. Liked how all forms of people could put down their backstabbing and disgusting tactics and just start murdering each other in the simplistic ways that founding fathers intended. But it was only after being turned that he learned the value in those tactics he once considered tools of cowardice. Back when he used to only go on night missions, it was necessary for her to become more stealthy like. Going from the proud lion to a sneaky rat with surprising ease. Despite his views on guns, Old Boy was able to accept the change in tactics against creatures off the night with open arms. Because let's face it, there just ain't enough time in our busy world to give every werewolf or Acolyte the pleasure of a good ass kicking. He'd definitely prefer it, but snooping around and taking an enemy by surprise was just as fulfilling in another manner.

  
  Dislikes
  
  

  • Guns( Longer the range the worst): As indicated by his love of all things sharp, Sgt. Gooding is immediately unimpressed with anyone who could wield a gun and consider themselves a true warrior. No propriety in the art of murder! When ya kill your enemy, you want to look 'em in the eye just so they die knowing who it was who cut them to bits! Or as best as you can when surrounded on all sides by other idealistic chumps looking to die the same way as pisscake numero uno. Going by the trend of the farther the worst, Old Boy hates snipers with a fiery passion. If a gun's a coward's weapon, then hiding about a mile off with a high powered rifle and simply picking off enemies with the full comfort of distance on your side makes you lesser than the average street mugger in the eyes of this Old Bat.
  • Type O blood: Something about the rarity of this particular brand of crimson delight just runs Mr. Gooding the wrong way. It's something he's always had trouble justifying, as it sustains him the same as any other blood, but the Sergeant will simply refuse Type O blood unless he's on the precise verge of death by starvation.
  • Professor Laquado

  
  Goal(s): Ah phooey, only big talkers worry about something like goals. Sgt. Gooding was blessed with the ability to serve his country by kicking the occult's ass and that's all he needs to worry about. Stuff like finding out how to turn human or worrying about adjusting to the changing world are just a bunch of philosophical nonsense that peddlers use to sell worthless self help guides. The only thing that this Old Boy needs to worry about is staying American and eventually dying for his country.
  
  Your Deepest Fear(s): For several decades now Sgt. Gooding has been plagued by this consistent nightmare that one night he'll wake up and find that his most prized machete had transformed into a gun. He and the monsters he uses it to butcher may know that such a thing has not come to pass, but the horror of the possibility is enough to keep him awake through some nights.
  
  Personality: Sgt. Gooding is probably the most stereotypical American soldier to ever walk the earth. One could easily imagine him playing a banjo out in the West American swamps with a loaded shotgun at his side. That is to say he's as old school as they come. He's actually quite the optimist, seeing every new situation as an opportunity to serve his country, it allowed him to adapt to the whole Vampire thing quicker than it would most. Of course, his hatred for guns coupled with their growing popularity amongst other Beast Slayers has seen him growing increasingly more dismissive of those he may have once considered comrades. If it weren't for his own stubbornness he may have been the top agent in the Conglomerate, but his refusal to use guns coupled with the fact that he just couldn't maximize efficiency with a large portion of his compatriots left him stagnant as a glorified exterminator for quite a number of years. He had no qualms with this, his goal was to serve his country and as long as he could continue wiping out any potential paranormal threats then he was complacent. He's a simple guy, Vampire curse or not he wasn't gonna go complaining like a petulant child because his own faults kept holding him back. Faults are what kept him human, faults are what keeps any and everyone human, and he refused to try changing his beliefs for something as menial as a title.
  
  Background: Joseph Gooding was never what one could call a Scholar, if he couldn't solve his problems that he couldn't solve with brute force or martial prowess then they weren't problems which he considered important. As a rambunctious kid growing up in America he would often get into fights and brawls while his parents struggled to convince him of the benefits of an education. Lil' Joe knew that there was a place in the world for the thinkers, but he also knew from the get go that he wasn't one. So instead off wasting his parents time and money he left, set out into the wilderness to find something that required a more physical approach. He didn't get far before being caught by his Uncle, who had set up a hunting lodge outside of his hometown after being casted out from the rest of the family. Now Uncle Gooding had tried to teach Joseph the rejuvenating effects of a good hunt, but Joseph found another alternative he damned well couldn't pass up.
  
  Now some would say going into the military as young as he did was putting the rest of his life on the line, but Joseph was never one to care about gambling as long as the game was thrilling. And though he felt awkward wielding a musket, it was shocking how much better a rifle could be made by sticking a large knife on the end. He served in the Revolutionary war with gusto, never caring much about the larger stakes or the suffering that both sides endured, all he could bother to care about was that every British soldier he killed was another tiny victory for the colonies. He was a monster in battle, despite his ratio of musket to bayonet kills being grossly disproportionate. Although his simple minded approach to combat never allowed him to rise through the ranks quickly like his contemporaries, his sheer knack for outlasting the opposition earned him titles amongst his fellow soldiers. It was a slow process, but eventually he was on his way to becoming a full Fledged Sergeant of the newly independent land of America. Or at least, he would've been had the Vamp not gotten to him.
  
  Near the end of the war Gooding and another company of soldiers had been tasked with corpse clearing after a much larger battle they hadn't had the pleasure of partaking in. What they didn't know was that they were removing the food source of a particularly feral creature which had been only one of the many which had been using the war as an excuse to gorge themselves.
  
  It just so happened that this particular creature was unwilling to wait for the next battle in order to sate it's thirst. That night, it had crept among the corpsmen, and was convinced that the sleeping, soon to be Sergeant would be easy pickings.
  
  It was wrong... so very very wrong.
  
  They'd all called him paranoid for keeping his bayonet close in the night, said he was crazy for waiting till every other soldier near him was sound asleep before slumbering, and laughed when he insisted that a true soldier was ready to kill 24/7 sleep be damned. Well who was laughing now!?! Certainly not the monster he'd gored the second he realized what was happening. Though a struggle to be sure, Gooding was the one who survived the fight in the nearby woods. Bleeding and wounded sure, but as long as he was the one who came out on top what were a couple grievous wounds? He should've probably bled to death that night had the change not taken place.
  
  Joseph Gooding was officially considered MIA for the next twenty years, with no trace of him being found by his fellow soldiers. In fact, it was only when the Conglomerate had been created had its first agents picked up his trail. Convinced that he was one of the beasts from legends, Gooding had spent the next twenty years trying to continue serving his country by using his newfound abilities to take the lives of any and all beats, men or otherwise who sought to sully the free will of the American people. Gooding was actually one of the Conglomerate's first big cases, having tracked his Patriotic path of destruction right to the old vet. Upon realizing how much loyalty he held for his country, there was no doubt who he'd be fighting on behalf of from that point on. Now able to serve his country once more, everything seemed to be going Gooding. That was until he ran into Laquado.
  
  
  Spoiler: Abilities/Skills/Equipment

  Strengths:
  

  • Vampire physiology: Now Gooding is an old bat, nowhere near the ancients of legend but he's been around long enough to work and train with what he's got. Coupled with the fact that he was a fearsome soldier before his transformation and the commendable strength and speed he employs in combat should be expected.
  • Blade Master: As a stalwart advocate of the old days of cutting things up, Gooding is exceptionally talented at close quarters Swordplay. From a pocket knife to a machete to a fancy cutlass, in the Sergeant's hands they go from dangerous to downright lethal.
  • Adaptable Combatant: Though not one for coming up with tactics himself, Gooding is extremely aware of patterns in enemy fighting styles and will quickly move to develop counters on the fly. As such, its very difficult to fight him long term without employing a variety of damage capabilities.

  
  Weaknesses:
  

  • Long Range: Given his refusal to use full-fledged firearms, any enemy with a gun will have range advantage over Gooding. Mid rang he still has his crossbow and can throw a blade with practiced ease, but anything longer than that he will need to close the distance before he can do anything.
  • Stubborn to a Fault: It may just be his old nature, but Gooding is exceptionally difficult to handle when he's certain of something. Whether it be a specific tactic in battle or whether or how views a specific person, he's extremely hard to change his viewpoints. In fact, the only method by which it is known to get him to move past his stubborn nature is from specific orders by the heads of the Conglomerate. And even then, the few things about himself that he will change on their behalf will be done begrudgingly and half-heartedly.
  • Vampire Weaknesses: Though his Vampiric form gives him far more physical power than his human body could output, he's now burdened with the same weaknesses as any other Bloodsucker. From Religious signs to the ever present hounding of the sun, any trained hunter should know what to try.

  
  Skillset:
  

  • Blade throwing: While this usually pertains to knives, and time has certainly fleshed out the Sergeant's ability to launch blades, he's become well versed in throwing almost anything as long as its sharp. Probably to make up for his complete disproval of guns, Gooding's become quite adept at throwing sharp implements both small and large.
  • Swordplay: Despite having no formal training, the sheer amount of time that Gooding's spent wielding blades has culminated in him being able to hold his own against better trained opponents.
  • Hunting: Something he's worked on greatly during his time in the Conglomerate, when convinced that a good hunt is necessary Gooding can make quite the surprisingly stealthy stalker. His ability to track down opponents is only heightened by his vampiric senses.

  
  Equipment:
  

  • The R.R.C (Repurposed Repeater Crossbow): Pretty much the only definitive ranged weapon you will ever see Gooding wield, the R.R.C was initially a crossbow recommended for him by his superiors after seeing his blatant refusal to use guns. Gooding was still unsatisfied, and had the weapon modified until he could finally wield it with some measure of pride. However, due to its modifications one could be hard pressed to call it a proper crossbow any more. The R.R.C actually rapidly fires metal stakes when used, however due to the wait of the stakes its range is far poorer than any other crossbow. However, its is this lack of range that Gooding specifically enjoys about the weapon, as he takes quite a bit of satisfaction of filling an opponent with an unrelenting stream of sharp metal from close by. It can only be properly utilized at shotgun range, can be loaded with either regular or silver stakes, and when unloaded can be folded up for easier transport.
  • The Six Skinners: When working, Gooding keeps a minimum of Six Machetes on him, each light yet sinisterly sharp. He calls them his skinners, and although there is no record of him actually skinning a beast with them, the serrated edges of each blade would definitely be able to do work upon a carcass.
  • The Seventeen Surprises: In keeping with his blade motif, Gooding has seventeen small throwing knives hidden on his person. Though they would make a poor excuse for a conventional weapon due to their size, Gooding's blade throwing skills make them a danger all on their own.
  • Final Flayer: A cross shaped dagger Gooding carries with him more on principle than anything else. Its actually a trophy he took from a Cultist he slew when hunting another vampire years ago. Though he has none of the faith to make it viable against his fellow creatures of the knight, it is a sharp blade and he refuses to let it go unutilized.

  
  Powers/Abilites
  
  Vampiric Sense: Similar to his physical powers, Gooding has acquired superhuman senses due to his transformation. With enhanced sight and hearing he's able to hunt more efficiently, though any experienced Vampire killer knows how to turn such a thing against him.
  
  Quick Recovery: Gooding recovers from battles far faster than he has any right to. Provided he can get away from conflict, he can recover from even the most lethal of wounds within two hours.
  
  Crimson Fuel: As should be stated for most monsters, consuming blood enhances Gooding's abilities momentarily. Everything from the strength to his healing is far more viable when he's recently fed.
• 
  
  View attachment 427879​
  Spoiler: General

  Name: Virgil Seymour Laquado
  
  Alias: The Professor, The Archivist,
  
  Age: 47
  
  Gender: Male
  
  Sexuality: Heterosexual
  
  Nationality: American
  
  Species: Human
  
  Faction: The Conglomerate
  
  
  Spoiler: Physical Characteristics

  Hair Style: A rather swell looking slicked back style accompanied his usually well rimmed moustache, a gentleman must present himself properly.
  
  Hair Color: Black
  
  Eye Color: A rather standard shade of blue
  
  Skin Color: Caucasian
  
  Height: 5'10"
  
  Weight: 150
  
  Scars: This dandy fellow's skin is remarkably unblemished
  
  Tattoos: Not a mark.
  
  Body Type: The Professor is rather standard in physique, though his height does make him look thinner than he actually is. Since joining the Conglomerate he's become far more lean with muscle due to his assignments.
  
  Clothing: Professor Laquado always dresses appropriately for any occasion, though of course focusing a bit more on presentation than his contemporaries. His standard attire for missions is a rather simple set of brown pants to go with his light blue suit jacket and vest combo. To be frank many of his cohorts have likened his attire to that of a train conductor. And though his travelling satchel and the odd pair of goggles he keeps strapped to his hat may hint to the more adventurous traits of his occupation, Laquado could easily blend into a standard bunch of civilians.
  
  
  Spoiler: Personal Information

  Likes:
  
  

  • Social gatherings: A proper get together always brings a bit of joy to the Scholar's face, as they are always venues for obtaining information and making allies where they are needed most. The Professor also simply enjoys getting to flaunt his wealth of information where he can, as he has worked considerably hard to obtain it. He should be allowed to feel good about his accomplishments, should he not? With all the risk that an occupation such as his holds, Laquado is determined to remind all of the discoveries he's made before he may eventually meet his maker.
  • Occult History: Laquado is intrinsically addicted to learning as much as possible about the history of the occult, as such, any leads enabling him to further expand his knowledge on the subject are greatly appreciated. Despite being part of the Conglomerate for over a decade, he still alights with the same absolute joy that he did when he first discovered something of historical importance. He hold no qualms for his blatant enjoyment of discovery, for every single new found tidbits draws him closer and closer to his ultimate goal.
  • A Well Maintained Rifle: Laquado cared not for weaponry of any kind until he began associating with the Conglomerate , when he was of a more simple occupation he believed that violence was to be left to soldiers while the more aristocratic folk like himself focused on making true strides for the betterment of mankind. However, as he became more and more invested in the occult the dear Professor realized that the best method for keeping to his goals while staying alive was to put an absolutely devastating gun between him and any potential opposition. He respected the power that his rifle gives him, the ability to survive against beasts of unimaginable horror. As such, keeping such a tool in tip top condition became one of his favorite hobbies besides the usual research and archiving.

  
  Dislikes:
  

  • Being Challenged Intellectually: Laquado can be a patient man, can be accepting of many things that may fray the natural defenses of the more meager masses. But one thing he finds absolutely no tolerance for whatsoever is when one seeks to compare their mental capacity to his. Let everyone be who they believe they wish to be, he's no time for other's personal self-quandaries. But do keep those quandaries contained, for not a single person could ever feel more pitiable than when trying to denounce the Professor's stores of knowledge. He's spent years filling his mind with as much intrinsic details about the world of beasts and men as the Conglomerate will allow him, and he will not have those efforts be dismissed by some no doubt inferior cretin seeking only to pull their natural betters down to their festering filth mound of a level.
  • Ignorance of Any and All forms- From those unable to garner an education for themselves to those who are simply unwilling, the Professor has nos semblance of pity for any of them. Knowledge is in fact the greatest weapon of all, and those who refuse to avail it of themselves are merely standing in the blood soaked battlefield of life with naught a spoon to defend themselves of its cruelty. They are destined to be used and abused by those with the fortitude or will to arm themselves, and there's no ifs ands or buts about it. They are the same as any other tool to be used, I just takes an untellect to make use of it.
  • That damnable Brutish ignoramus known as Sergeant Gooding is far too much of a bottom feeding muscle-brained waste to be allowed to have the power that he does.

  
  
  
  Goal(s): Professor Laquado is not one to aim low, for one day he seeks to stand above all other scholars in his field by recovering the Sword of King Arthur and going down in history as the brilliant mind he deserves to be recognized as.
  
  Your Deepest Fear(s): Professor Laquado harbors a fear many seem to misplace. He doesn't fear death, as it is merely a natural process in the cycle of life. No, his greatest fear is being forgotten like ninety-nine percent of the rabble that inhabit the earth. He refuses to fade away like the rest of the short sighted masses, refuses to be forgotten among the mountain of ash that accounts for all who had perished on this planet. Balls to immortality if it demands you hide from the world, the only true method for staying alive once the body is gone is by searing oneself into the very annals of history. The men and women who changed the world will never be forgotten, and Laquado fears dying before he is able to join their ranks.
  
  Personality: Upon initial meetings one would find Virgil Laquado to be anything other than a charming intellect with a good head on his shoulders and input for almost all subjects. He's courteous, gentlemanly and always ready to offer assistance or advise should someone need it. He's quick witted and sharp tongued, a standard for high society aristocrats, which he has been confused for several times. With all these it's no wonder he's considered one of the more diplomatic agents in the Conglomerate, he just has a knack for presentation.
  
  But that's all it is.... presentation.
  
  The Professor is actually quite the egomaniac to an extent, and has an inflated sense of self-worth due in no small part to his fear of being forgotten. Some may say his dedication to leaving a mark on history has become an obsession to an extent, but hardly anyone could tell due to his talent for presentation. Looking at the guy, one would never be able to tell just how much he considers himself above others, one would never be able to sense just how much he looks down upon others simply because he considers himself smarter. His facade is steel tight, and he keeps it maintained to such a degree that he can even convince himself of his own lies.
  
  But of course, as long as he seemed like the charming intellect he strives to portray himself as there's no real issue then.
  
  Background: Virgil Laquado was never what one would consider a fighter. In fact, his entire early years can be summarized rather easily as a constant accumulation of knowledge. Virgil was always able to comprehend things that his peers struggled with, always managed to rise above using his mind's impressive aptitude. He never had to worry about those other children who saw his intelligence as an insult, because he could always simply outsmart them. It went that way until he became a recognized intellect and was licensed to teach others as a professor. It was here, passing his substantial accumulation of information to the next generation that he began developing his fear of being added to the billions who never managed to get into the books he taught others of. And so, Professor Laquado began using his position as an excuse to try and make himself remembered. After several fruitless endeavors, Laquado eventually found a lead in the form of a newly discovered series of ruins which could hold any number of historically significant finds within.
  
  And so, with a bit of clever wordplay here and there, Laquado convinced his students that studying the ruins was part of a new curriculum he'd set up for them. He may have lied a bit to enlist their help, but even he was unaware of the true dangers within those ruins. For you see, they had actually been a meeting place for a coven of cultists. Soon Laquado's field trip turned into a fight for survival as he and the students were hunted through the various caves of the ruins. Despite the odds, Laquado and several others survived several days trapped in those caves, hiding from the cultists like rats until opportunity presented itself. When push came to shove in those final moments, Laquado left his last students behind to distract the cultists while he escaped...
  
  Only to immediately run into Conglomerate agents.
  
  An entire class of students going missing in ruins linked with the Occult had necessitated quick response. And so a team of Monster Hunters led by Sergeant Gooding arrived at the entrance Ruins just in time to find the Professor in the midst of his escape. Initially afraid of a potential leak to the populace, the Agents were pleased to find Laquado more than cooperative. With the knowledge he gained while trapped in the ruins, Laquado helped the Agents in eradicating the Cultists inside. Laquado was opportunistic, immediately offering to continue aiding the Conglomerate as long as he could learn with them. Having already proved the worth of his aid, he was allowed to join on the condition he train in combat. He was paired with Sergeant Gooding since they actually worked rather well together during the Cultist extermination. In fact, at first they seemed like they'd become quick friends.
  
  But then the Professor mentioned his inclination to use a Sniper Rifle.
  
  That was the start, for soon began the most well known internal strife in Conglomerate history. As Laquado became more acquainted with the Agency, he and the Sergeant began realizing just how many things they hated about each other. They began contesting whenever they were in each other's presence, arguing turned to insults and soon there wasn't a day that went by without the two finding something new to hate about the other. This behavior spread to their work, for any assignment the two were placed on together they would spend a majority of time contesting with each other. It got to the point where the two started trying to avoid each other, neither wishing their consistent hate for the other to get in the way of their own goals.
  
  And then they were assigned as partners.
  
  In a stunning turn of events, it was discovered by their superiors that their efficiency practically doubled when on assignment together. Despite their constant arguing, it was found that their specific skills counteracted the others negative traits. The very thing that made them hate each other was what allowed them to function better than most pairings in the Conglomerate. And so they were forced to work together for the entirety of the American Civil War, where the results spoke for themselves. They've been stuck working together since then, their loyalty to the Conglomerate being the only thing keeping them from killing each other.
  
  
  Spoiler: Abilities/Skills/Equipment

  Strengths:
  

  • Marksman: The Professor may not have the heightened sight of a beast, but if he catches sight of a target they would need the superhuman speed of one to even have a chance of dodging one of his shots. Laquado absolutely dominates at Long Range, requiring proper use of cover and distraction to close distance without being gunned down.
  • Encyclopedic Knowledge: Laquado's store of information is nothing to sneeze at, he compartmentalizes tidbits of information as simply as filing a paper. He can and undoubtedly will pull from this store of knowledge in order to gain advantages in combat.
  • Defensive Trickster: Laquado's close range combat skills are abysmal, which is why he employs a series of evasive tactics centered on dodging and distancing when close to an opponent. From smoke bombs to feints to confusing footwork, the Professor will do anything and everything he can to get back to long range where he has the advantage.

  
  Weaknesses:
  

  • Close Range: Though he's considerably tricky to pin down, there's no denying that anyone who closes the distance to the Professor gains the combat advantage. At that point the best thing he could hope to do is avoid attacks at that point.
  • Just a Man: Though his Marksman skills are good enough to pin down some of the toughest beasts, Laqaudo is still human. He doesn't have the stamina for long drawn out battles, nor does he have the strength or speed of his partner. Heck, his actual battle training could be considered child's play compared to most Monster Hunters. In truth it's his mind and weaponry that allows Laquado to stand at the same rungs as other great slayers out there.
  • Know It All- Similar to his Partner's stubbornness, Laquado is extremely arrogant when it comes to his intelligence. If he believes that he knows the solution based on his own thought work then there is little that one can do to convince him otherwise. He refuses to believe he's capable of being wrong in terms of intelligence, and that makes it hard for him to except the input of other more thoughtful beings. He's more than willing to absorb new knowledge from others, but when contested on a subject he's akready familiar with he see's it as a slight against him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  Skillset:
  
  

  • Sniper: When given a proper perch and an open field of view, Laqudo's marksman skills can shut down entire avenues. With his precise shooting he's skilled enough to hit any regular human opponent, as only a monster would be able to summon the speed necessary to evade his rounds.
  • Deception: Laquado is inherently versed in the art of deception, and is capable of passing off a number of lies as truth with absolute efficiency.
  • Escape Artist: Laquado has little qualms with fleeing from a battle he feels he cannot win, and has become so familiar with escaping risky situations that it's become somewhat of an art for him

  
  Equipment (If any)
  

  • Wildthorn Type 44 Model Rifle- Laquado's primary weapon of choice, the Wildthorn doubles as both a sniper rifle and a carbine due to its meticulously crafted air pressure based propulsion system. Basically its got two fire modes, the single shot and the semi-automatic. Single shot is used when enough force needs to be built behind the bullet to penetrate from long distances. When Semi-Automatic the bullets are primed much quicker and therefore have less force but more speed. In truth the entire thing was designed to be a better sniper rifle, Laquado simply utilizes the Semi-Automatic function when an opponent is rapidly closing distance and he needs more bullets between he and them. Also, due too its sturdy construction, the Wildthorn T-44 is quite usable as a blunt weapon, although Laquado merely uses it to divert attacks should he be unable to dodge them.
  • Flash Pellets: Utilized in his Trickster method of evasion, Laquado may throw down flash pellets mid battle to disorient nearby opponents and give himself a chance to flee. However, unlike a full-Fledged Flash bang the range of these pellets is severely limited. Therefore they must be utilized suddenly and abruptly in order to limit a foe's chance to react to them.
  • Fouler Bombs- Glorified stink bombs stuffed with as many overpowering scents as one could fit into a measly ball. Laquado specifically had these designed these to overpower those sensitive to smell, however he soon realized that literally anyone who could smell was left overwhelmed by the stench and began using them in conjunction with Flash Pellets. Unlike the pellets, the Foulers can be avoided with simple distance, meaning they must be activated without an opponents awareness in order to trap them in its range. Countered by the usual series of gas masks and whatnot.
  • Mayan Eye Goggles- An offshoot of the Collective's Third Eye Goggles, the Mayan Eye are supposed to serve as an alternative should the Conglomerate and the Franklin Collective ever fully turn on one another. Though there are some kinks to work out, the Mayan Eye is capable of enhancing and defending vision, although its ability to reveal specters to agents is a bit... iffy.

  
  Powers/Abilites
  

  • Light and Limber- Laquado's particular tactics would be impossible for him were it not for how nimble he was on his feet. Though he can't match the speed of a vampire he's most definitely one you should think twice before taking your eyes off of.
  • Gunslinger- Though he will always choose his Wildthorn over contemporary weapons, Laquado is capable of wielding a variety of guns, and will seek out the nearest on should his rifle be made unavailable to him.

Accepted, love the C.S's!

 

[Kameron Esters-]

General-


Name: Varynium Silverborn

Alias: Bringer of Light

Age: 37

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Nationality: Unknown

Species: Human

Faction: The Franklin Collective



-Physical Characteristics-


Hair Style: Wind-swept

Hair Color: Silverish Gray

Eye Color: Honey Brown

Skin Color: Brown

Height: 6'0

Weight: 230

Scars: Large scar over his right eye, and a small scar on down his lips

Tattoos: "Deliver Us From Evil" in cursive on the left-side of his chest

Body Type: Stocky

Clothing

-Personal Information-

Likes

• Walking
• Music
• Art

Dislikes

• Law breakers
• Perverse actions

Goal

• Dispense justice

Your Deepest Fear

• The Dark

Personality
Varynium is a very dutiful and upright individual. He is well-mannered and has little tolerance for anything that might obstruct his job as a law enforcer. Varynium isn't easily frightened as he witnessed many a horror growing up. More often then not, has been known to get a bit brash and violent from time-to-time, but this would only prove his dedication to his work; that or is occasional short-temper.

Background
Varynium grew up in Harkenwell, an isolated village made up of scrap metals located in the Bleeding Hallows near The Apparition Mountains. Varynium was born to the town's religious fanatic and was named after a mythical rare-metal of the same name. His father would often rave, mindlessly about the righteousness of The Pure and their crusade against evil. This would cause the townsfolks to ostracize his father and himself. Varynium usually had to work in mechanic shops as a boy, seeing that his father had no interesting of feeding them. Even though young children were still cheap labor, they were still given enough to purchase some food.

Years had passed and nothing has changed other than his father becoming more parnoid, depressed, and fearful. Of what? Nobody knew, nor did they care. Varynium believed he was sub-cumming to the damned spirits of the Bleeding Hollows, but he wasn't actually sure. His father would cradle himself with a marble-like cross necklace in his palms reciting prayers of old. Everything was as it was until the Harkenwell Incident happened, in which the inside of the makeshift village was compromised by a creature akin to a Lycanthrope. As while everyone fled into the darkness of the Bleeding Hollows, Varynium manage to escape with his father's cross and some matches before running off into the darkness. There he could hear whispers and the rustling of leaves, from above and from below. Something was hunting him. With his matches, he lit his way through the forest little by little making his way through the Apparition Mountains and into the Cretin Chasm.

Once there, Varynium finds himself in a decrepit enormous maze of obscure rock formations. And all of them had burrows in them. It was as if he had ventured into a whole different realm. He heard more noises, like like thin legs tip-toeing amongst the gravel. Varynium couldn't see around him, but he knew the light, for what little of it there was, was protecting him from something. No one in Harkenwell had ventured out into the Bleeding Hollows ever. The still young Varynium was beyond scared. He shook with every small step, but he only has very few matches left. Before he knew it, Varynium had made it to the center, where there was large lake of black ooze with a giant pillar that stretched to the peak of the mountain. And before he knew it a great millipede as dark as the night itself came out of the ooze and coiled around the giant pillar. It'smany legs were like tentacles and its mandibles and antenae were like crooked horns but the one feature that Varynium would never, could never forget, was its sideways eye that looked down on him, unblinking. That oppressive eye. It was as if it was reading Varynium yet it, he didn't know what it was looking for. The full weight of Varyniums fear had flooded him and he kneels before this evil being, his eyes over-flowing with tears. He was breathless, motionless. He wanted to hide from the eye, but there was nowhere to hid. None at all. Varynium was like a deer in an open field surrounded by many a hunter. This being spoke to Varyium's very soul in primeval tongues. Varynium couldn't understand the words. He had never heard them before, yet this being was allowing him to understand. Allowing him to know just enough to have a conversation.

This being introduced itself as Xygeth, a self-proclaimed god of all thing that crawls and infests; and even claims that it is the reason the Apparition Mountains are surrounded in eternal darkness and even claims that one day, he and his children will be free from entrapment in the Bleeding Hollows and feast upon everything that lives and breathes. It asked why had Varynium stumbled into his domain. And Varynium answered him truthfully about what had happened to Harkenwell. Xygeth told him this "lycanthrope" that attacked Harkenwell was a Wendigo, a man who has been consumed by greed and the need to surive above all else, now turned victim to nature's wickedry and cursed to devour any flesh it can get its hands on. Those were the creatures that had chased Varynium into the Cretin Chasm. But one thing Varynium noticed was that Xygeth didn't mention how it became entrapped but he was fearful of asking. He was more fearful about what would happen to him next. As far as he knew, he is the only human thats come to the Chasm in years. So to the grubs that live in the Chasm, he was mere food. And it didn't help that he could hear them still moving about, almost seemingly closer and noticed he was running out of light. Varynium scurried to light another match and when he did, the flames had accidentally touched his father's talisman and an immensly bright light shone. He heared the noise vanish and an unholy scream from Xygeth. Varynium didn't know what else to do as he too was blinded by this light, but what he did know was that it was keeping all the grubs at bay. So Varynium ran out of the Cretin Chasm and back into the Bleeding Hollows. Varynium could hear distant snarling and the screaming. The Wendigos were being kept at bay too. A wave of relief had filled Varynium until he notices the light from the talisman were dimming and yet, he didn't know were he was going. Where else was there go? He didn't know anywhere else within the Bleeding Hollows. That was until he was hearing loud noises. It didn't sound anything human or the like. It was just noise and as he neared it it got louder and louder to the point where his ears could burst any moment. Varynium wanted to turn back, but he knew there was nowhere else to go, so he continued further until he could see a large wall of what looked like liquid bronze that stretched round as faras his eyes could see. The noise was boisterous and senseless but what little light that came from the talisman parted the wall like water and Varynium quickly ran through it and went on running. From there, he was free as the darkness faded away and the light became ever so apparent. The light from the cross went finally diminished, but it was all fine with Varynium.

Ever since his escape from the Bleeding Hollows he's been with The Franklin Collective for the better of 20 years. First as a weapons tweaker, thanks to his many years as a mechanic made fine improvements to many of the Collective's inventions. And for the remainder as a hunter. Ever since Harkenwell, he felt that such evils needed to be detained from the world as much as possible, less it takes another hold on humanity.


-Abilities/Skills/Equipment-
Strengths

• Adept Hand-to-hand Combatant- His years in the force provided Varynium ample knowledge on how to defend himself
• Adept Marksman - His years in the force provided Varynium ample knowledge on how to use a firearm effectively

Weaknesses

• Poor timing - Varynium doesn't have the best reactions in the world. He's either too early do to his brashness or waits too long. This has almost gotten him killed several times.

Skillset

• Adept Mechanic

Equipment

Engraved Hand-cannon

Sawed-off 12 gauge Shotgun

Varynium's Talisman

Powers/Abilites

• High Endurance - Thanks to his years as a hunter for The Collective, Varynium's body has been well prepared to take on almost any threat.
• Fast Runner - Varynium is a natural-born runner and is arguably the fastest human in the Collective.

 

[The Shadow Realm]

Name: Victor Gaul
Alias: The Stormer
Age: 25
Gender: male
Sexuality: Straight/ace
Nationality: Scottish/German mix with Eastern European
Species: Former Thrall
Faction: The Corrupted Rose



-Physical Characteristics-

Hair Style-
Hair Color- Dirty Blonde
Eye Color- Golden
Skin Color- Caucasian on the pale side
Height- 5'11
weight- 160 lbs
Scars-
Many covering his body but most have faded to a point where they are difficult to see or notice
without actively looking for them.
Tattoos-
Two skulls, one on each shoulder blade
Body Type-
Fit and wiry with good upper body strength particularly in the forearms. Retains strength from time spent as
Vampiric Thrall, doesn't enjoy sun however even if it doesn't kill him
Clothing-
Pictured above for the most part along with casual time period accurate clothing

-Personal Information-

Likes-
Straightforward things, sports for the most part, meat, a challenge, the feeling of tearing down a foe through brute force
Dislikes-
Spies, schemers, pastries, rodents, the oceans
Goal(s)-
To defend the weak against the dark creatures of the world and kill some vampires.
Your Deepest Fears-
Being weak, immobilization, drowning
Personality-
A man of many words and many actions, Gaul is a shock trooper for the order of The Corrupted Rose. Tested in conflicts around the world, confident in his strength and adaptable in battle, Gaul
needs no guidance when it comes to violence. Outside of combat, Gaul suffers from an identity crisis, flashbacks, insomnia and a near overwhelming urge to serve, as his
time as a Thrall damaged his mind and ripped apart his individuality. In short hes a tough talkative guy who's confident in his physical abilities but not his mental ones which control him
and torment him night and day. His determination however allows him to push through, taking it all in stride and still accomplishing his goals.

Background: The son of a German merchant and a Scottish shepherd's daughter, Gaul was born in a small cottage in the countryside.
He spent his early life, his first ten years in that cottage, being taught about the world by his grandfather until tragedy struck, "tragedy" being vampires. Killing his grandfather and removing his freewill
Gaul was made into a servant/bloodbag until sixteen. At this point his lord placed him in the ranks of his battle thralls, giving him minor combat training and experience, allowing him to rise to a position of influence. Lacking any sort of freewill however kept Gaul in a place of servitude until he was nineteen. Days before his birthday, his master on the run from Corrupted Rose mercenaries, Gaul's connection was severed, he was free at last. However he was free in a completely foreign country, that being Turkey. Somehow managing to join up with the mercenaries, Gaul was trained for a time as they hunted his former master, until finally they lost his scent. He had escaped.
Gaul never forgets this, he keeps it on his mind constantly, being one of his main drives in life. His drive and lust for revenge has often times saved him from otherwise fatal situations,
but has at other times placed him in weirdly uncomfortable situations. Gaul has spent the last couple years however serving a small sect of the Corrupted Rose, it's objectives unknown to all but it's most senior members.

-Abilities/Skills/Equipment-
Strengths-
Has the physical prowess of the undead and the stamina to boot.
Obeys orders quite well.
Determined and steadfast.
Confident in his abilities.
Trained by members of The Corrupted Rose and his former Vampire Lord.
Can handle melee weapons with ease.
Understands combat and how to succeed in it.
Decent with guns as he's had to use them a lot in his career.

Weaknesses-
Suffers from flashbacks and seizures.
The sun aggravates him.
Not great at swimming.
Hates rodents.
Not very smart, not stupid but not intelligent either.

Skillset

Equipment- Owns a blessed axe and mace
Carries vial of holy water with him

Thistle- a custom made revolver given to Gaul in Germany, holds twelve rounds.

Nikita Type 52, carbinated rifle developed by The Corrupted Rose's backers, holds twenty rounds.
Powers/Abilites-
incredible strength
Will of iron
Hardened teeth

Oh, I think I forgot to accept you. Accepted, sorry for my terrible GMing.

 

[Probably George]

-General-​

Name: Julian Hosh

Alias: Doctor Hosh

Age: 29

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Doesn't care for relationships, they interfere with work

Nationality: Scottish

Species: Human

Faction: The Corrupted Rose

-Physical Characteristics-​

Height: 6'2"

Weight: 205 lbs

Body Type: Slim fit

Clothing: Decorated plague doctor

-Personal Information-​

Likes: Experimenting
-The anomalous
-Hunters
-Children

Dislikes: Religions
-Those who stop his work
-The Pure & The Conglomerate
- Those who harm children

Goal(s) : To fully study the anomalous beings and replicate one to release upon the church

Your Deepest Fear(s): Eldritch Gods.
Losing his children

Personality: Mostly emotionless and insane. Sweeter and more gentle around children.


Background: An old orphanage caretaker from Edinburgh, Scotland. While the children got sick from the many diseases, Julian's mental state deteriorated. They were like his own young, and they all began dying one by one. To hopefully find a way to save 'his' children, he decided to begin studying in the anomalous to see if there was a curse or illness that could have been behind what was happening to the children. Alas, it was all for not. After the last orphan died, he had gone mad. He constantly thought "why would God abandon us?" To spite the people who believed in the gods that let his orphans die, he began looking for a way to bring these unholy beings to life. "Your god is dead..."

Julian's research had made a lot of progress, he's made anomalous beings that almost stay alive. But the further his work went, the further the old Julian went. His mind started deteriorating from the new world he's surrounded himself in. He's forgotten what made him happy, helping those who needed it the most. That life was behind him now, he only wanted to make everyone feel the pain he did when everything he loved was taken from him. In defiance, he took up an old artifact he had, a shield depicting an old god who had been outlawed to worship by the church, the goddess M̴͚̹͚̄̍͂̌͠ï̴̢̢̭͎̠̳̀͌͛a̴̱̞͚̪̯̍̒̂̉͝͝l̵̞̘͎̗̣̈́̍̍̽͝a̴͇̥͖̘͔̙̳͝. "... and it was I who killed him."

-Abilities/Skills/Equipment: Doctor's equipment
-Various poisons in liquid and gas form
-High endurance
-Shield of a forbidden god

Strengths: Holy/unholy
-Poison

Weaknesses: (Extremely weak) Psychological attacks.

Skillset: Potion/Poison making
-Communication with children

The Shadow Realm

 

[The Shadow Realm]

View attachment 436009

-General-​

Name: Julian Hosh

Alias: Doctor Hosh

Age: 29

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Doesn't care for relationships, they interfere with work

Nationality: Scottish

Species: Human

Faction: The Corrupted Rose

-Physical Characteristics-​

Height: 6'2"

Weight: 205 lbs

Body Type: Slim fit

Clothing: Decorated plague doctor

-Personal Information-​

Likes: Experimenting
-The anomalous
-Hunters
-Children

Dislikes: Religions
-Those who stop his work
-The Pure & The Conglomerate
- Those who harm children

Goal(s) : To fully study the anomalous beings and replicate one to release upon the church

Your Deepest Fear(s): Eldritch Gods.
Losing his children

Personality: Mostly emotionless and insane. Sweeter and more gentle around children.


Background: An old orphanage caretaker from Edinburgh, Scotland. While the children got sick from the many diseases, Julian's mental state deteriorated. They were like his own young, and they all began dying one by one. To hopefully find a way to save 'his' children, he decided to begin studying in the anomalous to see if there was a curse or illness that could have been behind what was happening to the children. Alas, it was all for not. After the last orphan died, he had gone mad. He constantly thought "why would God abandon us?" To spite the people who believed in the gods that let his orphans die, he began looking for a way to bring these unholy beings to life. "Your god is dead..."

Julian's research had made a lot of progress, he's made anomalous beings that almost stay alive. But the further his work went, the further the old Julian went. His mind started deteriorating from the new world he's surrounded himself in. He's forgotten what made him happy, helping those who needed it the most. That life was behind him now, he only wanted to make everyone feel the pain he did when everything he loved was taken from him. In defiance, he took up an old artifact he had, a shield depicting an old god who had been outlawed to worship by the church, the goddess M̴͚̹͚̄̍͂̌͠ï̴̢̢̭͎̠̳̀͌͛a̴̱̞͚̪̯̍̒̂̉͝͝l̵̞̘͎̗̣̈́̍̍̽͝a̴͇̥͖̘͔̙̳͝. "... and it was I who killed him."

-Abilities/Skills/Equipment: Doctor's equipment
-Various poisons in liquid and gas form
-High endurance
-Shield of a forbidden god

Strengths: Holy/unholy
-Poison

Weaknesses: (Extremely weak) Psychological attacks.

Skillset: Potion/Poison making
-Communication with children

The Shadow Realm

Accepted!

 

[The Shadow Realm]

General-


Name: Varynium Silverborn

Alias: Bringer of Light

Age: 37

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Nationality: Unknown

Species: Human

Faction: The Franklin Collective



-Physical Characteristics-


Hair Style: Wind-swept

Hair Color: Silverish Gray

Eye Color: Honey Brown

Skin Color: Brown

Height: 6'0

Weight: 230

Scars: Large scar over his right eye, and a small scar on down his lips

Tattoos: "Deliver Us From Evil" in cursive on the left-side of his chest

Body Type: Stocky

Clothing

-Personal Information-

Likes

• Walking
• Music
• Art

Dislikes

• Law breakers
• Perverse actions

Goal

• Dispense justice

Your Deepest Fear

• The Dark

Personality
Varynium is a very dutiful and upright individual. He is well-mannered and has little tolerance for anything that might obstruct his job as a law enforcer. Varynium isn't easily frightened as he witnessed many a horror growing up. More often then not, has been known to get a bit brash and violent from time-to-time, but this would only prove his dedication to his work; that or is occasional short-temper.

Background
Varynium grew up in Harkenwell, an isolated village made up of scrap metals located in the Bleeding Hallows near The Apparition Mountains. Varynium was born to the town's religious fanatic and was named after a mythical rare-metal of the same name. His father would often rave, mindlessly about the righteousness of The Pure and their crusade against evil. This would cause the townsfolks to ostracize his father and himself. Varynium usually had to work in mechanic shops as a boy, seeing that his father had no interesting of feeding them. Even though young children were still cheap labor, they were still given enough to purchase some food.

Years had passed and nothing has changed other than his father becoming more parnoid, depressed, and fearful. Of what? Nobody knew, nor did they care. Varynium believed he was sub-cumming to the damned spirits of the Bleeding Hollows, but he wasn't actually sure. His father would cradle himself with a marble-like cross necklace in his palms reciting prayers of old. Everything was as it was until the Harkenwell Incident happened, in which the inside of the makeshift village was compromised by a creature akin to a Lycanthrope. As while everyone fled into the darkness of the Bleeding Hollows, Varynium manage to escape with his father's cross and some matches before running off into the darkness. There he could hear whispers and the rustling of leaves, from above and from below. Something was hunting him. With his matches, he lit his way through the forest little by little making his way through the Apparition Mountains and into the Cretin Chasm.

Once there, Varynium finds himself in a decrepit enormous maze of obscure rock formations. And all of them had burrows in them. It was as if he had ventured into a whole different realm. He heard more noises, like like thin legs tip-toeing amongst the gravel. Varynium couldn't see around him, but he knew the light, for what little of it there was, was protecting him from something. No one in Harkenwell had ventured out into the Bleeding Hollows ever. The still young Varynium was beyond scared. He shook with every small step, but he only has very few matches left. Before he knew it, Varynium had made it to the center, where there was large lake of black ooze with a giant pillar that stretched to the peak of the mountain. And before he knew it a great millipede as dark as the night itself came out of the ooze and coiled around the giant pillar. It'smany legs were like tentacles and its mandibles and antenae were like crooked horns but the one feature that Varynium would never, could never forget, was its sideways eye that looked down on him, unblinking. That oppressive eye. It was as if it was reading Varynium yet it, he didn't know what it was looking for. The full weight of Varyniums fear had flooded him and he kneels before this evil being, his eyes over-flowing with tears. He was breathless, motionless. He wanted to hide from the eye, but there was nowhere to hid. None at all. Varynium was like a deer in an open field surrounded by many a hunter. This being spoke to Varyium's very soul in primeval tongues. Varynium couldn't understand the words. He had never heard them before, yet this being was allowing him to understand. Allowing him to know just enough to have a conversation.

This being introduced itself as Xygeth, a self-proclaimed god of all thing that crawls and infests; and even claims that it is the reason the Apparition Mountains are surrounded in eternal darkness and even claims that one day, he and his children will be free from entrapment in the Bleeding Hollows and feast upon everything that lives and breathes. It asked why had Varynium stumbled into his domain. And Varynium answered him truthfully about what had happened to Harkenwell. Xygeth told him this "lycanthrope" that attacked Harkenwell was a Wendigo, a man who has been consumed by greed and the need to surive above all else, now turned victim to nature's wickedry and cursed to devour any flesh it can get its hands on. Those were the creatures that had chased Varynium into the Cretin Chasm. But one thing Varynium noticed was that Xygeth didn't mention how it became entrapped but he was fearful of asking. He was more fearful about what would happen to him next. As far as he knew, he is the only human thats come to the Chasm in years. So to the grubs that live in the Chasm, he was mere food. And it didn't help that he could hear them still moving about, almost seemingly closer and noticed he was running out of light. Varynium scurried to light another match and when he did, the flames had accidentally touched his father's talisman and an immensly bright light shone. He heared the noise vanish and an unholy scream from Xygeth. Varynium didn't know what else to do as he too was blinded by this light, but what he did know was that it was keeping all the grubs at bay. So Varynium ran out of the Cretin Chasm and back into the Bleeding Hollows. Varynium could hear distant snarling and the screaming. The Wendigos were being kept at bay too. A wave of relief had filled Varynium until he notices the light from the talisman were dimming and yet, he didn't know were he was going. Where else was there go? He didn't know anywhere else within the Bleeding Hollows. That was until he was hearing loud noises. It didn't sound anything human or the like. It was just noise and as he neared it it got louder and louder to the point where his ears could burst any moment. Varynium wanted to turn back, but he knew there was nowhere else to go, so he continued further until he could see a large wall of what looked like liquid bronze that stretched round as faras his eyes could see. The noise was boisterous and senseless but what little light that came from the talisman parted the wall like water and Varynium quickly ran through it and went on running. From there, he was free as the darkness faded away and the light became ever so apparent. The light from the cross went finally diminished, but it was all fine with Varynium.

Ever since his escape from the Bleeding Hollows he's been with The Franklin Collective for the better of 20 years. First as a weapons tweaker, thanks to his many years as a mechanic made fine improvements to many of the Collective's inventions. And for the remainder as a hunter. Ever since Harkenwell, he felt that such evils needed to be detained from the world as much as possible, less it takes another hold on humanity.


-Abilities/Skills/Equipment-
Strengths

• Adept Hand-to-hand Combatant- His years in the force provided Varynium ample knowledge on how to defend himself
• Adept Marksman - His years in the force provided Varynium ample knowledge on how to use a firearm effectively

Weaknesses

• Poor timing - Varynium doesn't have the best reactions in the world. He's either too early do to his brashness or waits too long. This has almost gotten him killed several times.

Skillset

• Adept Mechanic

Equipment

Engraved Hand-cannon

Sawed-off 12 gauge Shotgun

Varynium's Talisman

Powers/Abilites

• High Endurance - Thanks to his years as a hunter for The Collective, Varynium's body has been well prepared to take on almost any threat.
• Fast Runner - Varynium is a natural-born runner and is arguably the fastest human in the Collective.

Accepted!

 

[Kenji Jensai]

ALCIDE ERMENEGILDO DE GASPERI

BASICS

Name: Alcide "Gil" Ermenegildo De Gasperi

Alias: Cebereus

Age: 628


Gender: Male


Height: 5’10”


Hair Color: Pure white with blue tones


Eye Color: Yellow ocher

Race: Human Experiment

Faction: The Pure

Defining Features: His body is a map of old battle scars, burns and gouges. One impressive scar starts in the dip between his shoulder and neck on the left side and runs vertically down to his waist. A birth mark lays above his left hip on his side.

DOSSIER

Weapons of Choice: A Kriss. An ancient blade that was once an heirloom to his family - now, he wields it as it was originally intended to be used. He also carries an Mosin-Nagant 7.62. rifle on his back, just in case range is a problem. Since he doesn't use a scope, because of its tendency to give away his position his effective range is about 500-600 yards.


Alternate Weapons: The dagger that completes thepairing with his Kriss. While the Kriss has not been altered since its completion many centuries ago, the Dagger was reforged by the Vatican. Special grooves along the blade connect to a hollow compartment at the base of the hilt; vials of holy water, oil or blood can be inserted into this compartment. A tiny mechanism is triggered when a point on the hilt is pressed, which breaks the vials and thus coats the blade with a continuous drip of blessed material. It is said that Gil's strongest fighting style is when he uses both blades simultaneously. It is ALSO said that if he reaches for the dagger, it's best to keep out of striking range... better yet, just leave to watch from somewhere far away.


Gil has a collection of small fighting blades which he switches out regularly.


Other Equipment: Stock of blessed/holy items (vials, a single rosary string, herbs, a copy of the word, small candles), matches, a rather selective first aid kit, a short knife-saw and a small pack of dried food. Variant Ammo like Explosive and Poison and two extra ammo pouches.

Strengths: Because of the Pure's experiments on him during his childhood, his healing factor has speed up allowing him to survive wounds that would be fatal to most but just inconviences for him. He was once bisected and simply connected his halfs and kept on fighting. This comes in hand because it allows him to shield his allies from danger using his own body. Along with his healing factor his reflexes have also been boosted allowing him to react to situations in combat faster than the average human. Also because of his healing factor he has stopped ageing and is older than some vampires & Wolves. This has caused him to compose hundreds of tactics and countermeasures due to his age and experience.

Weaknesses: Gil is completey incapable of using magic, he is completely cut off from it. Because of his detest to traditional learning, Gil is completely clueless in areas of science or math making him unable to create potions or items without a guide or recipe to follow. Gil still requires food and water for his healing factor to activate, the more serious the injury the more his body works to fix it. As stated above, after being bissected he needed to consume over 15,000 calories for his body to not devour itself. If his body is further damaged while recovering he risks misalignment of his bones and foreign objects like bullets and debris have to be removed first continue healing. Even with such regenerative powers he is still vulnerable to attacks like petrification.


Skills:

Ephesians 6:10

-

"Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power."


Gil's insuppressible strength is of both body and will; he fights as though possessed by God's own strength. Due to his harsh childhood, training from Sacerdos Millius Mark Alcrombe III and the Pure's experiments, his mental state and capacity were well suited to combat operations behind enemy lines. He was calm under pressure, adaptive, and somewhat critical. This training and conditioning also put penalties on some of his social capabilities and mental stability. He was adept with a variety of weapons, from small arms to large rifles. His training suggested some emphasis in melee combat, and particularly in bladed weapons. Gil also showed great endurance and perseverance, before becoming too exhausted to continue fighting.






Joshua 1:9

-

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”


Even unintentionally, Gil manages to inspire those fighting alongside him. His unwavering belief in Good overcoming Evil can stir even the faintest of hearts.
This allows him to rally retreating soilders to push forward and keep fighting despite the odds.




Matthew 14:29

:

"He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus."


Gil is a servant of the Lord, and thus a servant of the Vatican. His admirable loyalty and efforts have helped him raise in rank (in some eyes, prematurely), but his work ethic is far beyond standard. He is most known throughout the hunting world by the name Cerberus. He is also known for killing a demon before turning sixteen.



Ecclesiastes 9:7

:

"Go then, eat your bread in happiness and drink your wine with a cheerful heart; for God has already approved your works."


A man of his energy, vitality and strength requires a great deal food. And he will not turn away a decent glass of wine or brew.

PERSONAL

Personality:

On duty and off duty: Alcide is a man whom separates work from play. In battle, he's been able to stash away the parts of him which make him a decent man, The battleground does not require sympathy for the wicked and it is well known that Gil's fighting competence is nay on par with the best. An unspoken vendetta lives within Gil. He harbors great hatred for all daemon and eradicates them with something akin to vicious glee at any opportunity. The fire of a warrior burns brightly in him; likewise, Gil's been ruthlessly molded to the church's will. He obeys his orders without question, gives no qualms if his life is put at stake and makes no fuss if a task is menial/below his station.


Luckily, he is not a mindless brute. His sizzling intellect devours manuscripts and books as though they're a means to calm restless, energetic spirit. However, he detests typical teachings (or the methods used to teach them, maybe) and is barely educated past middle school level in basic math and science. Demonology, history or literature? He's all over it. The former is a particularly strong interest of his, not unusual given his past and capabilities. He has a mind for tactics and economics, but prefers to let others work out the finer details unless he's mid-battle.


Gil looks after those around him like a Shepherd would his flock. Fair, protective and even genteel, there's no doubt that Gil enjoys company but finds it difficult to connect beyond basic acquaintanceship. His rapid rise in ranks has left him somewhat awkward at social functions, for all that his master tried to smack sense into him. Blame his obsession with training and fighting; his high rank and relative youth puts him oddly between the stage of teacher and student. Not that he's a total loss: he can dance, carry on small conversation and recite old, funny stories like most. Sometimes, he'll even give in and play an instrument when begged long enough. He'll open up over a good ale or vintage. More so when bribed with some of his favorite foods. His appetite is as tremendous as his fighting prowess - he'll eat five meals a day if he can.


Gil is especially gentle and kind around children, whom may crawl all over him without worry of reprimand. They remind him of a past he can only see in glimpses now. He yearns to overcome a growing demon living inside him, something born of fear, hate and sheer loneliness. He seeks peace and solitude when his duties are fulfilled; meditation has grounded him in recent years.
Though when needed he willingly uses the demon inside of him. while under this influence, he frequently breaks out into manic laughter when killing his enemies; he also emits a crimson aura, and keeps the blood of his enemies on his sword. He also speculated that, in addition to his training under Milious Mark, he may have had this maniacal relish for killing in his very blood. Gil has learned to tap into this persona when his normal, peaceful personality isn't enough to subdue an enemy and he needs to unleash his more violent personality to defeat such enemies.

Likes: Reading, Wirting poetry, Wine, A good conversation, playing with children, meeting new people
Dislikes: Liars, Betrayal, Daemons,
Goals: Discover his past & cleanse the world of evil

History:

- 526 AR ;


'

Panic and pitfall have befallen us




Devastation and destruction

'


Perhaps it wasn't the significant clustering of Umbra and the continuous certainty of a Demon Beast outbreak that doomed Cirio Mendi, but the preparation for its destruction. The Vatican had been monitoring the seaside village for years. Twelve years passed and nothing out of the ordinary occurred - the village was peaceful between the occasional sighting of lesser daemons. Those dispatched by the Church all reported that while Umbra presence was very high, little changed from year to year. So, the watch lessened, the vice grip of fear loosened and the villagers felt relief. They were all refugees, those of Cirio Mendi. Brought together over the past century after their homes were forced out or devastated by daemons. This place, they thought, would be safe despite the Vatican's wariness.


And for a lack of better description, on a dim and foggy winter morning, all Hell broke loose.


Sacerdos Millius Mark Alcrombe III, first son of the esteemed Viscount Alcrombe II and one of the greatest fighters of the time, was the first to reach Cirio Mendi after the word of an attack was heard. He arrived in time to watch red flames touch the sky and black smoke spread across the horizon: the village was all but razed to the ground. Reinforcements arrived, but there was no hope of saving the village. It was gone. Man, woman, child - all presumed to have perished by the hands of a single, but brutal daemon. A Greater Daemon, possibly Level C, but even now the Vatican won't say whether it appeared on its own or not. When Alcrombe emerged from the battle, he was short a hand... but he was carrying a limp, nearly-dead child. The child, scarcely six years old, clung to a long parcel wrapped in burnt silk. He didn't wake until eight days afterward, surprising everyone but Alcrombe, whom had stayed at the boy's side each day for several hours. Many had believed smoke inhalation or his injuries would send him to join the rest of Cirio Mendi in heaven. Lo and behold, he woke and Alcrombe soberly relayed the news of Cirio Mendi's destruction to the child.


The boy spoke only once before falling unconscious again. After, Alcrombe reportedly sent a notice to the Vatican. He would be returning to headquarters, but he wouldn't be returning alone.


'

A time to kill and a time to heal; A time to tear down and a time to build up.

'

EXTRA

At the unprecedented age of nine, Alcide Ermenegildo De Gasperi began his training with the Dark Chapter. "Reborn" as an Afflicta, he was also renamed after his guardianship was finalized. His youth should have been a detriment, as no one believed a boy so young could manage the Indocto training - at first. As the ward of the very man who'd saved his life, Alcide's capabilities were not wanting. Before entering Alcide into the Pure, Sacerdos Alcombre looked after the boy. Personally overseeing the boy's treatment, Alcrombe devised a training regiment for him that later led to Alcide's acceptance into the Pure. Most regard Sacerdos Alcombre as a man of strict devotion and discipline. Alcide regards him as both a master, mentor and eventually, a father. The kind of man he would do anything to gain the approval of.









It was no small feat for Alcide to climb to his current status. In fact, there are numerous whispers that his rise in power was either too hasty or part of some underlying plans made by higher ups at the Vatican. Whispers, however, can't be taken too seriously without proof. Alcide bears all the marks of a man who's earned his station, if not quite the air. He's the product of the Vatican's will; a trained dog who'll follow command without hesitation for his beloved masters. He spent two years as an Indocto; Alcide excelled at close combat and in no time was being given more and more difficult training to do. If anything, his instructors hoped to let his mind catch up to his body in maturity, but at thirteen years old Alcide rose in rank to a Milites.









Bold, powerful and still in his teens, Alcide commanded attention wherever he went. Whatever was asked of him, he did. His effectiveness went hand in hand with his ruthlessness and willingness on the field. With his mentor checking in occasionally, Alcide was eager to push forward with all aspects of his training. At minimum, he strived to cover the basics of the three fields outside of Ensis. His interest in daemonology was not unusual, except that he appeared particularly keen in learning the ins and outs of the dark creatures the Pure fought against. His instincts on the battlefield were sharpened with each new incident; every successful battle was like a whetstone over a blade's edge. Most literal, in Alcide's case, as he fought with a pair of ancient swords - the only remnants of his family.









Alcide grew and his story grew alongside him. When he became a Regimen member of the Pure just after he turned eighteen, no one questioned the promotion. His strength had yet to peak, but the shift in responsibilities revealed new parts of Alcide still maturing. As a leader, as a man and as a loyal subject to the Vatican's will, he had to face parts of him which were weak and further utilize the parts which were already strong. Within a few years, his capabilities as a team member appeared to find balance, but all too soon they changed once again. Alcide, or "Gil" as he was often called, took the greatest challenges headlong, often leaving his teammates behind with orders to handle the lesser threats. It wasn't something discouraged, but there were those that frowned upon Gil's gluttony for battle. Effective, but overeager, Gil's adoptive father was called in to confront him after a particularly... gruesome... run in with a level 4 lesser daemon. Gil had been too consumed in his battle and when two of his team members came in to assist, one was slashed, left nearly for dead and the daemon escaped.









The incident was resolved when, despite warnings not to work alone on missions any longer, Gil killed the daemon. Single-handed. He barely survived, but when he emerged from the ruin of a deserted hotel alive and the daemon dead... who could deny that he'd nearly sacrificed himself to prevent the level 4 from seeking revenge on his hospitalized teammate? However, Gil did not celebrate or boast or anything of the sort. In fact, he spent nearly a week in silent prayer, stopping only to sleep and sometimes eat. He begged God for forgiveness. His personal vendetta had taken his fiery, youthful eagerness beyond his control and he'd gone against the will of his father. He'd failed to uphold a promise to protect someone his own ignorance had nearly gotten killed. He felt his success made it seem as though, as long as he could win the day against the Evil, he was above orders, the Pure, the Vatican - even God. That, he pledged to an audience of older members of the Pure, Vatican and his team members, had never been his intention. Repentance, he swore, had been the cause of his impertinent and dangerous actions. His words carried, his teammate survived and four years later, Gil once again was promoted.









Gil's diligence, strength and willpower delivered him into the eyes of the Vatican once more. He had reached the same level of his mentor, albeit in only half the time. Though his thirst for combat has remained, its changed in some ways. By learning new methods of focus and restraint, Gil's effectiveness has risen enormously alongside its swiftness. His partners sometimes note that Gil's drive edges on obsession, but as he now pays mind to tactics and group efforts there's been no reason to report anything amiss. At 28, Gil buried his second father, albeit he feels blessed that old age, not daemons, were responsible for Alcrombe's passing. He made a vow that day and worked hard to uphold it, but scarcely two years later... Gil came face to face with a scene torn straight out of his childhood nightmares.









Little but rumors are spoken of that day. Gil was made a Venator afterward and has borne the newfound title as well as he could.

 

[Sightseer]

Hello!

Since I can't PM, here's a super draft version of a character I had in mind.

I'd also be remiss if I didn't mention or thank Miracleist who's BBcode was sublime.

[Redacted]

 

[Roleplay Skittle]

Irma Grace Beauregard​

coded by Roleplay Skittle​

• General
• Abilities
• Equipment
• Background
• Extras

• Statistics​

  
  Name: Catherine Irma Larendon
  
  Alias: Irma Grace Beauregard, Little Light, Demon Eye
  
  Age: 27
  
  Gender: Female
  
  Sexuality: Hetero
  
  Nationality: American (Louisianan)
  
  Species: Human
  
  Faction: Vampiric Council
  
  

  Physical Characteristics​

  
  Hair Style: Varies though she typically wears it in a tight bun at her neck in the back, her bangs long and allowed to hang freely in the front.
  Her hair is layered shorter in the front and longer in the back. Her bangs are cut at her jawline and the longest part of her hair reaches the bottom of her upper back. She has thick, smooth, and straight hair.
  
  Hair Color: Blonde
  
  Eye Color: Left eye blue, right eye a dull yellow shade but gets brighter the more control Botis gains.
  
  Skin Color: Caucasian. She maintains a healthy skin tone though it is evident that she doesn’t spend much time in the sun.
  
  Height: 5’3”
  
  Weight: 120 lbs
  
  Scars: She has restraint marks around her ankles, wrists, and neck along with fracture marks around her right eye.
  
  Tattoos: None
  
  Body Type: Athletic though not incredibly toned, she has long legs and a short torso with an hourglass figure and average sized breasts.
  
  Clothing: Relatively reserved. She’d rather go unnoticed so doesn’t wear anything too revealing or extravagant. She prefers to keep her scars covered so she typically only wears clothing that covers her neck, wrists, and of course ankles.
  
  She tends to always wear something that hides her face at least slightly, whether it be a hat and stylish veil, dark glasses, or an eyepatch.
  
  She wears minimal jewelry, only wearing the silver cross that her mentor gave her and the only thing she has left of her family, a ring that was her mother’s.
  
  

  Personal Information​

  
  Likes
  

  • The Smell of pencil shavings
    Lemons
    Rhythmic tapping (like a clock)
    Ducks

  
  Dislikes
  

  • Grease (Or anything with a similar consistency)
    Downpours
    Tobacco
    Wool

  
  Goals
  

  • Finding the man with the silver tooth.
    Finding a way to expel Botis from her eye.

  
  Your Deepest Fear
  

  • Botis someday tiring of their deal and taking full control.

  
  Personality
  Irma could be considered shy. She prefers that others not get close enough to really know her but at the same time she has a need to get close enough to really know others and because of this she can be seen as inquisitive. If she does open up and tell someone about her eye and what happened to her it is either on a quid pro quo basis or it is because she has come to trust them enough that she thinks they should know.
  
  While she does often come off as curious, she isn’t overly enthusiastic about it and retains a casual and almost indifferent air while at the same time still appearing interested.
  
  She is generally level headed and can stay calm in the face of a storm but certain things can trigger memories that can catch her off guard and when possible she tries to avoid them.
  
  When her memories are triggered she loses her calm and can appear rather skittish and during more severe episodes, fearful to the point of hallucinations and violence. Her more extreme moments are usually caused by Botis allowing her fear to be fed by his own interference.
  
• Strengths​

  
  Her biggest strength is probably her right eye. When she allows Botis to have more control, she can see the true nature of creatures that would have otherwise gone unnoticed or appear human.
  
  

  Weaknesses​

  
  At any given time, Irma is a typical Human woman with typical weaknesses.
  
  *Both a strength and a weakness, when Irma accesses Botis power she can visit events of the past, like reliving a memory but seeing everything more clearly like she was actually in the moment. This can help her notice things that she may have missed the first time as well as help her discern when someone is lying because she can visit any past moment.
  
  Irma doesn’t really like using Botis’ power because she feels that every time she allows him control she loses more of herself to him. Botis also enjoys taking objects she associates with awful moments of her life and using them to trigger those memories, causing her to hallucinate those moments of the past as though she were still in them.
  
  

  Skillset​

  
  Field surgeon - Taking the knowledge she gained while learning to be a homemaker, Irma has channeled her skills in stitching and embroidery and adapted them for the purpose of temporarily treating wounds out in the field. She has also gained the knowledge of treating other sorts of injuries by any means she has access to in order to prologue the lives of her colleagues at least until more in depth care can be administered.
  
  Dual wield - Part of her training observed being able to wield more than one weapon at a time. Lacking the arm strength for holding a larger weapon in one hand at a time, she is able to wield smaller weapons, one in each hand, such as a sword and a pistol though she tends to favor dual wielding revolvers, she can switch one or both out for something else should she lose either and need to make do with something else.
  
  Knife fighter - Irma’s mentor was no fool and knew that things don’t always go according to plan. With this in mind, he insisted that Irma train in a last resort efense should she fail to keep an enemy far enough away. Should her guns fail her, she has been taught the most vulnerable points of the anatomy of most creatures she may face in order to at the very least immobilize or otherwise incapacitate at least temporarily so that she may escape or put a safe distance between herself and her enemy. These attacks are specifically designed for the use of knives.
  
  Botis – When Irma allows Botis to have more control, she can see things that would otherwise be invisible to her Human eye. While Botis has control of the eye in which he resides, Irma also sees through that eye but loses sight in her Human eye. At all other times, Irma only sees through her Human eye.
  
  Another attribute Irma gains from Botis is his increased ability to see in the dark, this ability is also one only accessible when Irma gives him more control.
  
  While Irma gains Botis’ sight when she chooses to give him more power and so can see as he sees, he is always partially in control of her right ear and shares his power there so while Irma cannot regularly see as he does, she can always hear as he does. Despite her ability to hear as Botis does is a bit inhibited because it is slightly muffled, things that would otherwise go unnoticed because they are unseen, she can instead hear.
  
  While Botis does inhabit a part of Irma’s body, he primarily controls her right eye and only slightly controls her right ear. While Irma can hear him and he can hear others, he only hears her when she speaks out loud and has no connection with her mind so he is unable to read her thoughts and thrives off of conversation though he prefers listening when Irma talks with others because after ten years he has grown weary of speaking with her.
  
• Irma has a relative miniature arsenal that she carries with her at all times. Around her torso she has a specially designed corset which fits more loosely than the second corset she wears beneath. The top corset holds all of her various bullets.
  
  Around her hips are her holsters for her main revolvers, her karambit is mostly hidden near the top left side of the holster. She wears her bowie knife in its sheath on her left thigh and her emergency weapon is strapped around her calf on the same side.
  
  Her shotgun she carries in two pieces in a rectangular case with plush lining. Her ammo for the shotgun is carried in the same case and there are two layers to it though it appears as only a simple instrument case.
  
  She also tends to hold at least one vial of Holy Water on her at any time.
  
  2 identical .38 Smith and Wesson revolvers
  
  
  1 .38 snubnose Colt revolver
  
  
  Blessed Bullets - The ammo that Irma uses for her main revolvers are also usable with her backup revolver. The bullets themselves are made with either silver or iron and specially engraved by Father Alonso de Caceres with intricate crosses before he blesses them in God’s name. Outside of the religious aspect and the silver or iron, the bullets have normal casings and are not necessarily meant for killing so much as incapacitating a violent Vampyre or Daemon.
  
  Along with her Blessed Bullets, Irma also carries normal bullets with no special attributes since as a member of the Vampiric Council, her primary targets are Humans that kill Vampyres unjustly.
  
  1 Holland and Holland 12 gauge shotgun
  
  
  Explosive Shells - While these shells are not necessarily created to end the life of their targeted species, they are designed to at the very least temporarily incapacitate the creature they are used on. While the Blessed Bullets are designed for Vampyes at the behest of Irma’s mentor in dealing with what he likes to call “Feral Vampyres” as well as the more deadly Daemons, these particular projectiles are created in consideration of the management of Werewolves. They are created by making a thin metal casing which contains vials of silver nitrate and ethanol. They are launched by a shotgun shell casing containing only gunpowder, upon impact with the target, the vials inside the metal casing shatter and the two substances inside mix, causing an explosion which bursts the casing leaving a fair sized hole in the target.
  
  She also carries regular shotgun shells that contain a mixture of iron and silver pellets.
  
  1 Bowie Knife
  
  
  1 Karambit
  
  
  Irma’s two melee weapons are last resort arms. As she hopes she doesn’t need to use them, there are no particular tricks to them because if she can’t get in a relatively incapacitating strike with them, she probably won’t make it out of the situation alive, and she might not even if she does get a good hit in.
  
• ​

  “I remember…” Irma gently bites her lower lip as she squints her blue eye, the other one hidden by a thick black patch, “it had been cloudy all day and right when it was time to go it started pourin’ outside,” she adjusts the shorter front of her angled skirt before she crosses her legs at the knee, resting her folded hands atop her higher one, “Laure was just a tiny little thing and we didn’t want her to get sick, so I told nanny to stay with her at home while I went to get Lillian from school.”
  
  The former Southern Belle sighs slightly and casts her eyes down from where they were lingering on a random spot on the ceiling, watching her hands as they anxiously brush against the dark fabric of her striped stockings, her lips pursing slightly, “wasn’t anythin' unusual… a normal rainy day… Lilly was waitin' in the school room when I arrived and we walked out holdin' hands.”
  
  A melancholy smile crossed her lips and it was highlighted by the sadness in her one visible eye which she closed shortly as her hands on her knee tightened slightly, her mind focusing on the sound of the ticking clock that resided on the other side of the room. It was several moments before she spoke again, “the streets were nearly flooded and… and a gentleman in a carriage headed the same way as we pulled right up to us… nothin’ was off about him… he was well dressed – black top hat and one of them fancy suits that you know he was off to somewhere important,” Irma laughed almost awkwardly, “he had a nice waxed mustache and his teeth shined when he smiled – he had a fake one… it was silver,” She nodded slightly as she recalled the memory before one of her hands finally moved from her knee, brushing through the length of her blonde bangs and scooping them behind her ear.
  
  “He said, ‘aw now, you ladies shouldn’t be walkin’ in this downpour!’ I know he sounded Texan,” She glanced down at the small moonstone set in a silver ring around her middle finger and began to turn it slightly with the thumb of the same hand, “not that it really matters now… but he offered us a ride and bein’ as Lillian was so small and it was rainin’ so hard, I didn’t see the harm…”
  
  Her eyes closed again as her voice broke and she shook her head, her hands now clenching each other as she continued breathily, choking back her sobs and trying to stop her tears, “I didn’t see the harm because we were so close to home so I put Lillian in that carriage and I climbed in after her.”
  
  She placed her hand over her mouth and nose, sobbing into her palm as she tightly shut her eyes, a tear wriggling loose from her left eye before she used her sleeve to quickly brush it from her cheek and slid her fingertips up under and along the bottom edge of her eyepatch, continuing shakily, her speech seeming rushed, “Lillian… she trusted me to – she trusted me to take care of her… and I put her in that carriage!” She shook her head, her legs uncrossing as she hunched over and placed her elbows on her knees, Covering her eyes with her hands, “I thought it would be fine but it wasn’t! That man, he grabbed her. He grabbed Lillian – ‘be good sweetheart and nothin’ll happen to the little ‘un,’ – and he just kept smilin’! He kept smilin’ at me! He knew I wasn’t gonna’ do nothin’!”
  
  Irma’s sobs started up again as she nearly shrieked out the memory and they went on for some time, a servant coming through and pouring her a cup of tea, gently petting her back to at first call her attention and secondly to offer her the drink. The blonde took a moment before she acknowledged the woman’s gentle touch and after another moment finally took the saucer and teacup with a trembling hand, a soft hiccup escaping her as she stared off towards the fire that blazed in the hearth on the opposite wall. She blew on the dark liquid in the cup before sipping it and seeming to regain some composure. After a while of silence she began to speak again, the fire’s light reflecting in her eye as her story continued in a slight monotone.
  
  “I don’t know how far we went… sometime durin' the ride he let me comfort Lillian… she was only…” She paused, her hands shaking a bit more violently before she cleared her throat and looked in her cup, “she was only six years old at the time and was cryin’ her little heart out.”
  
  Her lips formed a straight line for a moment as she pressed them together, her blue eye glistening as she held her cup close to her face before finally taking a sip and then continuing, “eventually we stopped… and by then the rain was gone… it was real humid out and we were at some big house… I remember it was already gettin’ dark and the man was met by a group of people that ushered us inside.”
  
  The strands of hair she had pressed behind her ear were shaken loose as she shook her head briskly before she sipped her tea again, finishing the cup and setting it on the table beside her. She gave a gasping little laugh, sitting on the edge of her seat, “I don’t know how long we were there… it seems like it was a long time, but it might not have been… I know they came one day… and they pulled me away from Lilly and said it was time to go,” her fingers interlaced, her knuckles turning white as she held her hands tightly together, her eyes squinting shut, “I still remember her little hands reachin’ out for mine as they pulled me out the door and the others remained behind, holdin’ her… keepin’ her from goin’ after me.”
  
  Another bout of silence commenced as once again Irma fought to retain her composure, the pain of the memory in the quivering of her voice and her hands moving to grasp the cushion of the chair she sat upon, her fingers clenching it on either side of her, “they drugged me with somethin’ ‘cause the next thing I knew, I was on a boat… and that time was even longer than when I was in that big ol’ house out in the swamps.”
  
  Her head remained tilted downwards, hiding behind the veil of shiny blond hair that were her bangs while the length of her hair was neatly held back in a roll at the back of her head right where it met her neck. She looked up and closed her eye taking in a deep breath, a weak smile quirking the corner of her mouth, “it was cold out… much colder than it had been near the boiler in the ship… they had kept me down there mostly – in the dark – I can count the number of times they let me out - just for some fresh air - on one hand. But… I remember that air… that cool London air…” She chuckled slightly and opened her eyes, “you know, I can’t rightly recollect if it was just because I had been locked up for so long or if it was actually cool… but I remember it was night and the sea mist hit my face when they brought me top side and hurried me along to a waitin’ carriage.”
  
  Irma settled back into her chair again, releasing her now relaxed hold on the cushion of her chair as she situated herself so that she could lean back against the high wingback, crossing her legs at the ankles, her brown granny boots making a soft brushing sound as suede grazed against suede before she situated herself with her hands loosely folded on her lap, “the man with the silver tooth was still there… I guess he made the trip with me… an escort of sorts… and he was smokin’ his pipe… he chuckled a bit when I coughed,” she groaned slightly and shook her head, looking down at her hands as she once more toyed with the single piece of jewelry she wore.
  
  “Again it was a long ride before we reached our destination, another big ol’ house out in the middle of nowhere,” she gave a faint chuckle, “they sure seemed to like their swamplands… those people… this time… I wasn’t there long before they done what they had been wantin’ to do since they grabbed me and Lilly off the street.”
  
  A deep sigh escaped her, the striped, long sleeved, and high collared blouse she wore rising and falling with her chest as the brown corset around her waist restricted the movement anywhere else on her torso. She was bracing herself for what was next and it was evident in the somber and sickly expression on her generally fair features, “they took me deep into the manor… it was an altar of sorts, I guess… and then they chained me down. My wrists, ankles… neck…” her hands touched the spots of her body that were chained as she spoke them, lingering around her neck for a moment and absently adjusting the decorative ruffles that adorned the front of her blouse as she stared off at an unknown object as though she were seeing the very past she spoke of, “there were so many people in the room… I didn’t see any of their faces… there were so many voices and they were all chantin’ – I don’t know what, I couldn’t understand them – I just know because there was a rhythm and it was so repetitive and synchronized.”
  
  She paused, licking her lips and pressing them against each other for a moment before turning her attention to the servant that had poured her tea previously, “excuse me sugar, could I get another cup, please?” The servant nodded and obliged, smiling softly as she poured the cup and delivered it as asked, “thank you,” again Irma blew on the liquid in the cup before she carefully sipped it, continuing to hold it as she gazed off towards the fire.
  
  “I couldn’t see after a while, I was fightin’ those chains so hard… I knew they wouldn’t break but I was afraid of what they were doin’ – what they had planned for me. So I fought and I cried and choked on the metal around my neck… bled from my wrists and ankles as I pulled… as I struggled,” she took another sip, “I don’t remember much after that… just a sense of weightlessness… some of the chantin’ stoppin’ and givin’ way to gasps… some screams… a great shadow loomin’ over me.”
  
  Irma’s hands began to tremble softly and her eye began glistening, a sort of fear in it of something that she remembered but maybe not consciously. Her voice was soft as she continued, shaky even, “I was bein’ pulled from myself and all I knew was panic and I fought harder… and then the screams increased and some of the chantin’ stopped and while I was still bein’ pulled, I felt somethin’ bein’ pushed on me at the same time… I don’t mean physically… it was all… I guess it was my mind – my soul.”
  
  The teacup was raised to her lips as she puckered them slightly, blowing again before sipping and setting the cup and saucer down on the table beside her once again, both settling with a soft clatter before she folded her hands atop her knees, “there were gun shots… and a lot of movement and then the push I felt became pain, like the side of my face was bein’ ripped open and my eye torn out…” she raised the patch over her eye to expose the fractured scar pattern that surrounded it and the unusual color the iris retained, “at the same time… it was like I had lost a part of myself and an enraged howl filled the room and echoed inside my head… and then it was quiet and everythin’ was dark.”
  
  She leaned forward slightly, the servant had collected her teacup and vacated the room so her eyes now focused on the only other person in the room, “and then I found I wasn’t alone… Botis was with me,” the pale yellow color of her eye darkened slightly for a moment, nothing more than a flicker as she laughed faintly and sat back again, moving her hands along the arms of the chair, "and that's my darkest secret..." She quirked a soft and urging smile, “how about you?”
  
  

  * * * *​

  
  Irma’s mother died when she gave birth to the youngest of the Larendon daughters and being the oldest, Irma took up her mother’s duties around the house and essentially became the lady of the house at fourteen. Since Irma had the care of her mother up until then, she had already learned much of what would be her duties by the time her mother had passed.
  
  While not all of the skills she had learned when she was young were transferable to her life after she was spirited away to England, she did manage to adapt her ability to sew to suit her new lifestyle, learning the other necessary skills she would need to survive from her mentor.
  
  Her mentor was a vampyre and member of the Vampiric Council. They had been hunting someone that had wrongfully slain a law abiding vampire and that individual had led them to the ritual where Irma was being offered as a vessel to the daemon Botis.
  
  While it had not been their intention to interrupt a virtual sacrifice, once it had been done they realized that it fell on them to look after Irma as she showed clear signs of the beginnings of possession, though her symptoms were much more drastic as the fusing had been violently interrupted. Irma had been unchained and taken away with her rescuers, though her situation did not become better immediately.
  
  Irma was kept in a cell where she could not do harm to others and for the vast majority of the time she was left alone, though not completely because Botis was there to keep her company much as he had been when she initially lost consciousness. The vampyre that rescued her visited her three times a day to bring her meals and see how she was fairing given her circumstances.
  
  It was during these times of relative solitude that Irma learned of both the intentions of Botis as well as those who had summoned him. They had wished to use him for his ability to see both the past and the future and in exchange they were giving him her body. Irma thought of the horrible things that he could have committed if he had gained control, though when she questioned him on this, he only laughed at her. This was how she made her deal, one that would allow her to survive so long as she kept Botis appeased. Botis was a powerful daemon with sixty Legions serving under him and while he could see the past and the future, he still desired something he did not possess, the secrets of others.
  
  By the time the Council decided she was not of harm to anyone, the injuries to her face had already healed, leaving her skin looking like the surface of a cracked pot. She learned from both her rescuer, who had provided the Council with the evidence they needed to excuse her, as well as Botis, that the injuries she had endured were caused by the fact that she had not lost enough of her sanity to allow for Botis’ smooth entry combined with the fact that the chanting of the cultists that had captured her was essentially forcing Botis inside of her. The daemon had guessed that they had chosen her because she was young and weak enough that they could and had controlled her but she was old enough that she wouldn’t easily die from the forced possession.
  
  Irma was seventeen when she was taken from Louisiana and brought to England and once she was released from her temporary imprisonment by the Council, she was given the choice. She could either return home and attempt to return to her normal life and her family, or she could remain in England and start a new life.
  
  While Irma opted for the latter, not seeing how she could return to her life as it had been with such an affliction and deformity marring both her body and mind, it was not in the manner that the Council likely had expected. She didn’t want to have a normal life, she saw no way for her to accomplish any state of normalcy given what she had gone through, given what she was. So she asked that she remain with the Council. She understood why they fought for what they did, and after having her life saved by one of there order, she decided that it was the only way for her to return the debt, to fight for what was right and to protect those of the vampyre kind that adhered to the laws. After all, she had been kidnapped by humans, so how could they act so high and mighty when they would harm their own for the sake of power.
  
  It was in this way that she was entrusted into the care of her savior and would learn the ways of the hunter, honing her skills for many years and learning the true extent of the power she gained from Botis in exchange for the most meager of costs, at least they were the most meager for her.
• Voice Claim – Lucy Elkins, The Knick
  
  

  The Priest
  
  Father Alonso de Caceres
  
  The Mentor
  
  Estevan de Sevilla
  
  An example of her style
  
  
  The necklace her mentor gave her
  
  
  Her mother's ring
  ​

 

[The Shadow Realm]

a

Hello!

Since I can't PM, here's a super draft version of a character I had in mind.

I'd also be remiss if I didn't mention or thank Miracleist who's BBcode was sublime.

• Portrait
• Historical Portrayal

• 
  
  
  Portrait by Mehdic
  
• 
  
  

Kamila​

• General
• Physical Traits
• Goals & Fears
• Abilities & Skills
• Personality & Background

• 
  Alias: Kamila to her colleagues and acquaintances, Kamilka to her close friends, and the Golem of Prague to everyone else.
  
  Age: Appears to be in her early twenties.
  
  Gender: Clearly feminine in appearance and voice.
  
  Sexuality: Uncertain, as Kamila has precious little, if any, in the way of romantic experience.
  
  Nationality: Nominally, Kamila is Czech, although she pays little heed to her nationality.
  
  Species: Arcane construct (Golem).
  
  Faction: The Corrupted Rose
  
  

  Likes	Dislikes
  Books, the older the better	Wastefulness
  Clear directions, a purpose, a mission if you will	Wizards, witches, warlocks, and their ilk
  Dependable friends and foes	Arrogance
  Order and the routines that she has created	Unnecessary cruelty

  
  
• 
  Hair Style and Color: Kamila has long black brown hair that is held back only loosely by a bit of string, and exceedingly unruly, it always seems to threaten her with the possibility of escape.
  
  Eye Color: Her eyes are a gentle, muted green, full of calm and quiet reflection.
  
  Skin Color: Kamila has a healthy color to her skin and for an arcane construct looks very much alive.
  
  Height: Taller than average, Kamila stands only a bit below 6 feet.
  
  Weight: Athletically built, Kamila weighs around 145 lbs.
  
  Scars: Her skin bears no marks or scars, strangely so for a melee combatant, and stranger still it shows no regard for the passage of time.
  
  Tattoos: Kamila has the Hebrew word for truth, emet (אמת), inscribed on the nape of her neck, although it's usually hidden beneath the long locks of her hair.
  
  Body Type: Kamila has an unremarkable build and unassuming appearance that belays the prodigious strength and constitution she possess.
  
  Typical Clothing: A pragmatic dresser, Kamila favors clothing that is well-suited to an active life spent hunting monsters. She wears thick leather boots of a military vintage, a worn greatcoat that quite clearly once belonged to a member of the Old Guard of Napoleon's Grande Armée, a fashionable white shirt with a winged collar, a black belt with a silver buckle, and woolen breeches suitable for rugged outdoor pursuits.
  
• 
  Goal(s):
  
  - Finding her original master and creator, for what purpose she will not say.
  
  - Recovering the lost tome of Nicomedes, the so-called Manual of Golems, that details the information and incantations necessary to create golems.
  
  - Expanding her collection of books.
  
  Deepest Fear(s):
  
  - Losing her freedom or free will, be it imprisonment or forced servitude via arcane means.
  
  - Forgetting her past.
  
  - Being without purpose.
  
• 
  

  Strengths	Weaknesses
  Natural pugilist; few beings are as skilled as Kamila in the fine art of fisticuffs.	Predictable; Kamila prefers to fight in a straightforward fashion, punching her way through any obstacle that appears in front of her.
  Strong; whether among men, monsters, or artificial constructs, Kamila is terrifyingly strong.	Disdain for ranged combat; Kamila has no interest in ranged combat, finding that it offers her little joy or satisfaction.
  Magic Resistance; Kamila appears to be quite resistant to magic and is able to weather even the most powerful of spells with little effort.	Incapable of generating magic; while Kamila is a natural spellcaster, of sorts, she cannot replenish her deep reserves of magic, instead, like some arcane parasite she has to absorb magic from spells or other spellcasters.
  Juggernaut; as an arcane construct, Kamila has been gifted with a prodigious physical endurance. She can survive wounds that would outright kill most other corporeal beings and even the loss of a limb, although an annoyance, is of little concern for her bloodless self.	Inflexible; Kamila prefers to operate by the book, her book, and is slow to change, especially when pressured.

  
  Tools of the Trade:
  
  Silver Hammer: The only weapon Kamila carries and reluctantly uses, is a simple looking hammer. Nothing more than a workman's hammer cast in silver, when wielded by the powerful golem, the hammer nonetheless presents quite a threat to supernatural creatures.
  
  
  
  
  
  Power(s):
  
  Arcane Strikes: Brought to life by arcane energies and molded into a physical form by the will of her master alone, Kamila is an arcane being, imbuing all of her physical attacks with arcane power, allowing her to cause great harm to both physical and ethereal creatures.
  
  Damage Resistance: Created from mud, very magical mud, Kamila is largely immune to many forms of nonmagical damage, in the sense that it would have very little effect on her.
  
  Conditional Immunities: As an arcane construct, Kamila is immune to many of the conditional maladies which afflict human beings and many creatures of the night. She does not require sleep (she cannot be exhausted), is unfamiliar with what it means to be afraid, and will never know what it feels like to be poisoned. Breathing and bleeding are similarly domains of the organic alone. Attempts to charm her are likewise met with only a confused look.
  
  Artificial Eyes: Kamila's eyes have little trouble seeing in the dark and blinking is only a formality.
  
  Imutable Form: Shaped by ancient and powerful magic, Kamila is immune to any spells or effects that would alter her form.
  
  
• 
  Personality:
  
  A consummate professional, Kamila prefers to be fulfill her contracts as efficiently and expediently as possible. She tends to unquestioningly follow the orders of those she deems to be her superiors or employers, having learned quite early that feedback or creativity is rarely desired from an arcane construct. Free form many of the compulsions of natural creatures, Kamila possess an iron willpower, self-control, and patience that is far above the norm.
  
  Blunt and to the point, as only an arcane construct can be, Kamila has little interest in unnecessary conversation or formalities. As a result, she keeps few acquaintances and fewer friends still, preferring the company of ancient tomes to the ceaseless babbling of organic creatures. Despite a tough clay exterior, she can be enticed into conversation if she is treated less like a soulless construct and more like a living being...provided the topic is right of course. For those that make the effort, Kamila may even display a remarkably robust sense of humor, although it is a capacity that she rarely has reason to show.
  
  Unlike a great many arcane constructs or golems, Kamila is capable of feeling emotions, an archmage would never have been satisfied by anything less than achieving the miraculous. However, Kamila has learned to ignore, if not completely silence, the voice of her burgeoning conscience. She is simply the tool and her judgment is rarely required or desired for the grim tasks demanded of her. Created with combat and destruction in mind, Kamila has few compulsions against injuring or killing others, viewing it simply as part and parcel of the job as a hunter. However, martial inclinations aside Kamila abhors unnecessary cruelty and takes little joy in doling out suffering or death. She holds very low opinions of humans or creatures that revel in the suffering of others, believing that monsters, human or not, should simply be put down before they cause too much collateral damage.
  
  Due to a mixed and very complicated history with wizards, Kamila views all spellcasters with suspicion and usually disdain, if not always outright hostility, certain, very certain, that they are scheming some way to return her to her former forced servitude.
  
  Background:
  
  The oldest description of Kamila is found in an ancient passage in a long since lost book concerning the life of Judah Loew ben Bezalel (also known as the Maharal), the late 16th century rabbi of Prague.
  
  Mentions of the Golem of Prague begin in the Middle Ages, continue throughout the Renaissance, and stretch even into the current age. Rarely named, Kamila is simply refereed to as the Golem of Prague, and is without fail described as a hulking figure of clay impervious to all manner of weapons and capable of terrifying feats of violence. A number of different masters are mentioned following the Maharal of Prague, but inevitably the summoning of the Golem of Prague results in widespread destruction, the death of her master's enemies, and less frequently the death of her current master themselves.
  
  The last stories concerning the Golem of Prague date from the Napoleonic War and suggest that the arcane construct participated in the Crimean War and the Siege of Sevastopol. Accounts of British survivors mention an "infernal golem" commanded by a strange German that in the words of one French soldier was said to have "destroyed an entire cavalry division with nothing more than its hands" before vanishing upon the arrival of further British reinforcements.
  
  After the end of the war, Kamila fell into the hands of the Catholic Church. Reports maintained in the archives of the Vatican concerning her capture detail that she only surrendered following the death of her then-master, the infamous necromancer Johan von Galen, at the hands of elements of the Pure sent to apprehend him. No less than twenty five of members of the Pure were said to have been martyred by the golem in the operation.
  
  Unceremoniously, Kamila spent the better part of the 1870s-90s locked in a dark vault deep beneath the Vatican before a storied and still mysterious escape occurred that saw the Golem of Prague once more free to roam the Earth.
  
  Uninterested in revisiting the uncomfortable dungeons of the Vatican, Kamila relocated to London soon after her escape. Relishing her first taste of freedom and completely uninterested in serving some higher cause or worse being bound to a new master, Kamila wisely elected to ply a living as an unaligned hunter, joining the Corrupted Rose and establishing herself as a reliable if silent agent.
  
  Despite her freedom, Kamila feels a strong, almost irresistible compulsion to find her original creator, an unnamed spellcaster that the she maintains is still alive despite the passage of centuries, and to follow the powerful compulsions that this mage wove into the very core of her being. However, deep within the heart of the golem, is a growing, nagging hatred, rage, so much rage, endless anger at centuries spent in bondage, serving arrogant spellcasters. She is free, but not free enough, and she longs for total freedom, to once and for all break the bonds of her creation, no matter what the cost may be.
  
  

Accepted!

ALCIDE ERMENEGILDO DE GASPERI

BASICS

Name: Alcide "Gil" Ermenegildo De Gasperi

Alias: Cebereus

Age: 628


Gender: Male


Height: 5’10”


Hair Color: Pure white with blue tones


Eye Color: Yellow ocher

Race: Human Experiment

Faction: The Pure

Defining Features: His body is a map of old battle scars, burns and gouges. One impressive scar starts in the dip between his shoulder and neck on the left side and runs vertically down to his waist. A birth mark lays above his left hip on his side.

DOSSIER

Weapons of Choice: A Kriss. An ancient blade that was once an heirloom to his family - now, he wields it as it was originally intended to be used. He also carries an Mosin-Nagant 7.62. rifle on his back, just in case range is a problem. Since he doesn't use a scope, because of its tendency to give away his position his effective range is about 500-600 yards.


Alternate Weapons: The dagger that completes thepairing with his Kriss. While the Kriss has not been altered since its completion many centuries ago, the Dagger was reforged by the Vatican. Special grooves along the blade connect to a hollow compartment at the base of the hilt; vials of holy water, oil or blood can be inserted into this compartment. A tiny mechanism is triggered when a point on the hilt is pressed, which breaks the vials and thus coats the blade with a continuous drip of blessed material. It is said that Gil's strongest fighting style is when he uses both blades simultaneously. It is ALSO said that if he reaches for the dagger, it's best to keep out of striking range... better yet, just leave to watch from somewhere far away.


Gil has a collection of small fighting blades which he switches out regularly.


Other Equipment: Stock of blessed/holy items (vials, a single rosary string, herbs, a copy of the word, small candles), matches, a rather selective first aid kit, a short knife-saw and a small pack of dried food. Variant Ammo like Explosive and Poison and two extra ammo pouches.

Strengths: Because of the Pure's experiments on him during his childhood, his healing factor has speed up allowing him to survive wounds that would be fatal to most but just inconviences for him. He was once bisected and simply connected his halfs and kept on fighting. This comes in hand because it allows him to shield his allies from danger using his own body. Along with his healing factor his reflexes have also been boosted allowing him to react to situations in combat faster than the average human. Also because of his healing factor he has stopped ageing and is older than some vampires & Wolves. This has caused him to compose hundreds of tactics and countermeasures due to his age and experience.

Weaknesses: Gil is completey incapable of using magic, he is completely cut off from it. Because of his detest to traditional learning, Gil is completely clueless in areas of science or math making him unable to create potions or items without a guide or recipe to follow. Gil still requires food and water for his healing factor to activate, the more serious the injury the more his body works to fix it. As stated above, after being bissected he needed to consume over 15,000 calories for his body to not devour itself. If his body is further damaged while recovering he risks misalignment of his bones and foreign objects like bullets and debris have to be removed first continue healing. Even with such regenerative powers he is still vulnerable to attacks like petrification.


Skills:

Ephesians 6:10

-

"Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power."


Gil's insuppressible strength is of both body and will; he fights as though possessed by God's own strength. Due to his harsh childhood, training from Sacerdos Millius Mark Alcrombe III and the Pure's experiments, his mental state and capacity were well suited to combat operations behind enemy lines. He was calm under pressure, adaptive, and somewhat critical. This training and conditioning also put penalties on some of his social capabilities and mental stability. He was adept with a variety of weapons, from small arms to large rifles. His training suggested some emphasis in melee combat, and particularly in bladed weapons. Gil also showed great endurance and perseverance, before becoming too exhausted to continue fighting.






Joshua 1:9

-

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”


Even unintentionally, Gil manages to inspire those fighting alongside him. His unwavering belief in Good overcoming Evil can stir even the faintest of hearts.
This allows him to rally retreating soilders to push forward and keep fighting despite the odds.




Matthew 14:29

:

"He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus."


Gil is a servant of the Lord, and thus a servant of the Vatican. His admirable loyalty and efforts have helped him raise in rank (in some eyes, prematurely), but his work ethic is far beyond standard. He is most known throughout the hunting world by the name Cerberus. He is also known for killing a demon before turning sixteen.



Ecclesiastes 9:7

:

"Go then, eat your bread in happiness and drink your wine with a cheerful heart; for God has already approved your works."


A man of his energy, vitality and strength requires a great deal food. And he will not turn away a decent glass of wine or brew.

PERSONAL

Personality:

On duty and off duty: Alcide is a man whom separates work from play. In battle, he's been able to stash away the parts of him which make him a decent man, The battleground does not require sympathy for the wicked and it is well known that Gil's fighting competence is nay on par with the best. An unspoken vendetta lives within Gil. He harbors great hatred for all daemon and eradicates them with something akin to vicious glee at any opportunity. The fire of a warrior burns brightly in him; likewise, Gil's been ruthlessly molded to the church's will. He obeys his orders without question, gives no qualms if his life is put at stake and makes no fuss if a task is menial/below his station.


Luckily, he is not a mindless brute. His sizzling intellect devours manuscripts and books as though they're a means to calm restless, energetic spirit. However, he detests typical teachings (or the methods used to teach them, maybe) and is barely educated past middle school level in basic math and science. Demonology, history or literature? He's all over it. The former is a particularly strong interest of his, not unusual given his past and capabilities. He has a mind for tactics and economics, but prefers to let others work out the finer details unless he's mid-battle.


Gil looks after those around him like a Shepherd would his flock. Fair, protective and even genteel, there's no doubt that Gil enjoys company but finds it difficult to connect beyond basic acquaintanceship. His rapid rise in ranks has left him somewhat awkward at social functions, for all that his master tried to smack sense into him. Blame his obsession with training and fighting; his high rank and relative youth puts him oddly between the stage of teacher and student. Not that he's a total loss: he can dance, carry on small conversation and recite old, funny stories like most. Sometimes, he'll even give in and play an instrument when begged long enough. He'll open up over a good ale or vintage. More so when bribed with some of his favorite foods. His appetite is as tremendous as his fighting prowess - he'll eat five meals a day if he can.


Gil is especially gentle and kind around children, whom may crawl all over him without worry of reprimand. They remind him of a past he can only see in glimpses now. He yearns to overcome a growing demon living inside him, something born of fear, hate and sheer loneliness. He seeks peace and solitude when his duties are fulfilled; meditation has grounded him in recent years.
Though when needed he willingly uses the demon inside of him. while under this influence, he frequently breaks out into manic laughter when killing his enemies; he also emits a crimson aura, and keeps the blood of his enemies on his sword. He also speculated that, in addition to his training under Milious Mark, he may have had this maniacal relish for killing in his very blood. Gil has learned to tap into this persona when his normal, peaceful personality isn't enough to subdue an enemy and he needs to unleash his more violent personality to defeat such enemies.

Likes: Reading, Wirting poetry, Wine, A good conversation, playing with children, meeting new people
Dislikes: Liars, Betrayal, Daemons,
Goals: Discover his past & cleanse the world of evil

History:

- 526 AR ;


'

Panic and pitfall have befallen us




Devastation and destruction

'


Perhaps it wasn't the significant clustering of Umbra and the continuous certainty of a Demon Beast outbreak that doomed Cirio Mendi, but the preparation for its destruction. The Vatican had been monitoring the seaside village for years. Twelve years passed and nothing out of the ordinary occurred - the village was peaceful between the occasional sighting of lesser daemons. Those dispatched by the Church all reported that while Umbra presence was very high, little changed from year to year. So, the watch lessened, the vice grip of fear loosened and the villagers felt relief. They were all refugees, those of Cirio Mendi. Brought together over the past century after their homes were forced out or devastated by daemons. This place, they thought, would be safe despite the Vatican's wariness.


And for a lack of better description, on a dim and foggy winter morning, all Hell broke loose.


Sacerdos Millius Mark Alcrombe III, first son of the esteemed Viscount Alcrombe II and one of the greatest fighters of the time, was the first to reach Cirio Mendi after the word of an attack was heard. He arrived in time to watch red flames touch the sky and black smoke spread across the horizon: the village was all but razed to the ground. Reinforcements arrived, but there was no hope of saving the village. It was gone. Man, woman, child - all presumed to have perished by the hands of a single, but brutal daemon. A Greater Daemon, possibly Level C, but even now the Vatican won't say whether it appeared on its own or not. When Alcrombe emerged from the battle, he was short a hand... but he was carrying a limp, nearly-dead child. The child, scarcely six years old, clung to a long parcel wrapped in burnt silk. He didn't wake until eight days afterward, surprising everyone but Alcrombe, whom had stayed at the boy's side each day for several hours. Many had believed smoke inhalation or his injuries would send him to join the rest of Cirio Mendi in heaven. Lo and behold, he woke and Alcrombe soberly relayed the news of Cirio Mendi's destruction to the child.


The boy spoke only once before falling unconscious again. After, Alcrombe reportedly sent a notice to the Vatican. He would be returning to headquarters, but he wouldn't be returning alone.


'

A time to kill and a time to heal; A time to tear down and a time to build up.

'

EXTRA

At the unprecedented age of nine, Alcide Ermenegildo De Gasperi began his training with the Dark Chapter. "Reborn" as an Afflicta, he was also renamed after his guardianship was finalized. His youth should have been a detriment, as no one believed a boy so young could manage the Indocto training - at first. As the ward of the very man who'd saved his life, Alcide's capabilities were not wanting. Before entering Alcide into the Pure, Sacerdos Alcombre looked after the boy. Personally overseeing the boy's treatment, Alcrombe devised a training regiment for him that later led to Alcide's acceptance into the Pure. Most regard Sacerdos Alcombre as a man of strict devotion and discipline. Alcide regards him as both a master, mentor and eventually, a father. The kind of man he would do anything to gain the approval of.









It was no small feat for Alcide to climb to his current status. In fact, there are numerous whispers that his rise in power was either too hasty or part of some underlying plans made by higher ups at the Vatican. Whispers, however, can't be taken too seriously without proof. Alcide bears all the marks of a man who's earned his station, if not quite the air. He's the product of the Vatican's will; a trained dog who'll follow command without hesitation for his beloved masters. He spent two years as an Indocto; Alcide excelled at close combat and in no time was being given more and more difficult training to do. If anything, his instructors hoped to let his mind catch up to his body in maturity, but at thirteen years old Alcide rose in rank to a Milites.









Bold, powerful and still in his teens, Alcide commanded attention wherever he went. Whatever was asked of him, he did. His effectiveness went hand in hand with his ruthlessness and willingness on the field. With his mentor checking in occasionally, Alcide was eager to push forward with all aspects of his training. At minimum, he strived to cover the basics of the three fields outside of Ensis. His interest in daemonology was not unusual, except that he appeared particularly keen in learning the ins and outs of the dark creatures the Pure fought against. His instincts on the battlefield were sharpened with each new incident; every successful battle was like a whetstone over a blade's edge. Most literal, in Alcide's case, as he fought with a pair of ancient swords - the only remnants of his family.









Alcide grew and his story grew alongside him. When he became a Regimen member of the Pure just after he turned eighteen, no one questioned the promotion. His strength had yet to peak, but the shift in responsibilities revealed new parts of Alcide still maturing. As a leader, as a man and as a loyal subject to the Vatican's will, he had to face parts of him which were weak and further utilize the parts which were already strong. Within a few years, his capabilities as a team member appeared to find balance, but all too soon they changed once again. Alcide, or "Gil" as he was often called, took the greatest challenges headlong, often leaving his teammates behind with orders to handle the lesser threats. It wasn't something discouraged, but there were those that frowned upon Gil's gluttony for battle. Effective, but overeager, Gil's adoptive father was called in to confront him after a particularly... gruesome... run in with a level 4 lesser daemon. Gil had been too consumed in his battle and when two of his team members came in to assist, one was slashed, left nearly for dead and the daemon escaped.









The incident was resolved when, despite warnings not to work alone on missions any longer, Gil killed the daemon. Single-handed. He barely survived, but when he emerged from the ruin of a deserted hotel alive and the daemon dead... who could deny that he'd nearly sacrificed himself to prevent the level 4 from seeking revenge on his hospitalized teammate? However, Gil did not celebrate or boast or anything of the sort. In fact, he spent nearly a week in silent prayer, stopping only to sleep and sometimes eat. He begged God for forgiveness. His personal vendetta had taken his fiery, youthful eagerness beyond his control and he'd gone against the will of his father. He'd failed to uphold a promise to protect someone his own ignorance had nearly gotten killed. He felt his success made it seem as though, as long as he could win the day against the Evil, he was above orders, the Pure, the Vatican - even God. That, he pledged to an audience of older members of the Pure, Vatican and his team members, had never been his intention. Repentance, he swore, had been the cause of his impertinent and dangerous actions. His words carried, his teammate survived and four years later, Gil once again was promoted.









Gil's diligence, strength and willpower delivered him into the eyes of the Vatican once more. He had reached the same level of his mentor, albeit in only half the time. Though his thirst for combat has remained, its changed in some ways. By learning new methods of focus and restraint, Gil's effectiveness has risen enormously alongside its swiftness. His partners sometimes note that Gil's drive edges on obsession, but as he now pays mind to tactics and group efforts there's been no reason to report anything amiss. At 28, Gil buried his second father, albeit he feels blessed that old age, not daemons, were responsible for Alcrombe's passing. He made a vow that day and worked hard to uphold it, but scarcely two years later... Gil came face to face with a scene torn straight out of his childhood nightmares.









Little but rumors are spoken of that day. Gil was made a Venator afterward and has borne the newfound title as well as he could.

Accepted, glad that you balanced out the healing factor!

 

[ANONASAI]

KAZIMIERTZ SVANTE VLADIMIRA

-General-


Name: Kasimir Vaughn

Real Name: Kazimiertz Svante Vladimira

Alias: K or Kei, although his closest friends call him Ka.

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Nationality: Unknown (Possible nationalities include Czech and Romanian, judging from the real name)

Species: Dampyr (Vampire Half-Breed)

Faction: The Vampiric Council



-Physical Characteristics-



Hair Style: High Fade

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Eye Color: Dark Brown

Skin Color: White

Height: 5'7"

Weight: 130 lbs

Body Type: Light and Swift. Has a muscle mass of an average soldier.

Clothing:
Grey Fur Coat, with Formal Clothing underneath






-Personal Information-

Likes:

Books (Philosophy and Novels)

Music

Art

Writing

Photography

Etiquette and Formality

Cleanliness (always likes to clean himself up after every segment of an adventure, would love to help others clean their clothes too)

Offering Help in Little Things



Dislikes:

Death without Honor

Failure

Shame

Disgrace

Ghosts


Goal(s):

-To bring back peace in their family
-Adventure and thrill
-To publish a novel
-To capture the best moments of the hunt in a photograph


Your Deepest Fear(s):

-Being possessed by a demon


Personality

Because of his friendliness, his cheerful and outgoing nature, Kei is easily mistaken for a naive man. Many even tend to call him spontaneous, when it comes to entertaining others. The truth is, Kei is awfully observant. Ever since he was a teenager, he'd often observe and study different principles and different lifestyles of different people. This led him to understand and respect all kinds of people, especially the immoral ones. He understands how the cruel try to justify their actions, and ultimately thinks he can bring them back to a life of true happiness. He values cultural relativism, and will very much observe you the moment you two meet. He finds joy in entertaining others and making them happy.

This is why most call him naive... and the others--those who know him enough--call him a master of lies. Beneath this cheerful man lies a dampyr of many skills, particularly lying and deceiving people. This, of course, he gained through his observations of the people around him. Lying is not something he takes pride in, but ultimately needs to use when needed. Underneath this spontaneous person, is a man of observation and rational decisions. Although people may think he's driven by emotion, Kei wouldn't think twice about putting a bullet in a child's head if it was the right thing to do.

Background (Minimum of 2+ paragraphs.)

Kazimiertz Svante Vladimira, son of Vladimira, house of Vladimira. He is born of a powerful vampiric family, the Vladmiras, who are known for being cunning and deceiving. They are feared in all kinds of business: war, trade, and even art. This is because of a powerful skill that the family has passed on for generations: the art of deception. Through philosophies, poetry, linguistics, and whatever tools they have, the Vladimiras are able to change the perception of a person's own reality. The most skilled in their family can change someone's core values and principles if they will it. They have been feared for generations.

Kazimiertz doesn't completely like the fact that their family is respected because of that. He often fears that some of his family members may go too far and abuse the power on innocent people. Nonetheless, he has been practicing the power as much as anyone has in the family.

In 1896, tragedy struck the family. Their sons and daughters, children, die in a very early age. Fathers and mothers lose their jobs. And some of the teenagers have committed suicide. The Vladimiras, from all over the world, have been struck with a curse. Nobody knows the cause, and nobody knows for how long. Now, the Vladimiras call to their most skilled children, including Kazimiertz, to find answers before it's too late. The sons have gone to fight the devils of the night, expecting answers in the blood-red hell. The daughters have gone to use their most precious power, in keeping this tragedy a secret from the world, in asking for help with the Vampiric Council, and looking for answers in the archives and libraries.

For Kaz, the answers to their family's questions... are calling from London.


-Abilities/Skills/Equipment-
Strengths
-Because of being a dampyr, he doesn't really have any vampiric power other than enhanced reflexes, strength (only has the strength of two men), vitality, agility(can run really fast but lesser than the average speed of a vampire), and stamina
-Because of being a dampyr, the sun doesn't actually weaken him, he has a reflection, he can cross running water, religious items don't weaken him, he can eat food and drinks, and he can survive without drinking any blood
-Can see clearly in the dark (but still lesser than any other vampire)
-Doesn't need to breathe
-Deception
-Observant and Quiet
-Peacekeeper
-Knowledgeable in the Hunt

Weaknesses
-Because of being a dampyr, he can die just as easily as any human, no need to cut his head off or anything
-There are times when he constantly coughs during the night, significantly weakening him in combat

Skillset
Extremely observant, a good shot, and has the knowledge and skills of a vampire. Only, it's lessened.

Equipment (If any)
A camera


Two Vladimiran Revolvers - extremely light but packs a punch


The Mara - a revolver thought to be made with the metals of hell itself. A Vladimiran artifact. Zipping through metal with booming velocity, The Mara turns her victims into a blood-red mess of burning meat and flesh. This is only to be used as a last resort, as it leaves the wielder with a terrible sprain.


A Guitar - because why not


Powers/Abilities
None

 

[The Shadow Realm]

KAZIMIERTZ SVANTE VLADIMIRA

View attachment 448836
View attachment 448837

-General-


Name: Kasimir Vaughn

Real Name: Kazimiertz Svante Vladimira

Alias: K or Kei, although his closest friends call him Ka.

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Nationality: Unknown (Possible nationalities include Czech and Romanian, judging from the real name)

Species: Dampyr (Vampire Half-Breed)

Faction: The Vampiric Council



-Physical Characteristics-



Hair Style: High Fade

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Eye Color: Dark Brown

Skin Color: White

Height: 5'7"

Weight: 130 lbs

Body Type: Light and Swift. Has a muscle mass of an average soldier.

Clothing:
Grey Fur Coat, with Formal Clothing underneath
View attachment 448839
View attachment 448842
View attachment 448843



-Personal Information-

Likes:

Books (Philosophy and Novels)

Music

Art

Writing

Photography

Etiquette and Formality

Cleanliness (always likes to clean himself up after every segment of an adventure, would love to help others clean their clothes too)

Offering Help in Little Things



Dislikes:

Death without Honor

Failure

Shame

Disgrace

Ghosts


Goal(s):

-To bring back peace in their family
-Adventure and thrill
-To publish a novel
-To capture the best moments of the hunt in a photograph


Your Deepest Fear(s):

-Being possessed by a demon


Personality

Because of his friendliness, his cheerful and outgoing nature, Kei is easily mistaken for a naive man. Many even tend to call him spontaneous, when it comes to entertaining others. The truth is, Kei is awfully observant. Ever since he was a teenager, he'd often observe and study different principles and different lifestyles of different people. This led him to understand and respect all kinds of people, especially the immoral ones. He understands how the cruel try to justify their actions, and ultimately thinks he can bring them back to a life of true happiness. He values cultural relativism, and will very much observe you the moment you two meet. He finds joy in entertaining others and making them happy.

This is why most call him naive... and the others--those who know him enough--call him a master of lies. Beneath this cheerful man lies a dampyr of many skills, particularly lying and deceiving people. This, of course, he gained through his observations of the people around him. Lying is not something he takes pride in, but ultimately needs to use when needed. Underneath this spontaneous person, is a man of observation and rational decisions. Although people may think he's driven by emotion, Kei wouldn't think twice about putting a bullet in a child's head if it was the right thing to do.

Background (Minimum of 2+ paragraphs.)

Kazimiertz Svante Vladimira, son of Vladimira, house of Vladimira. He is born of a powerful vampiric family, the Vladmiras, who are known for being cunning and deceiving. They are feared in all kinds of business: war, trade, and even art. This is because of a powerful skill that the family has passed on for generations: the art of deception. Through philosophies, poetry, linguistics, and whatever tools they have, the Vladimiras are able to change the perception of a person's own reality. The most skilled in their family can change someone's core values and principles if they will it. They have been feared for generations.

Kazimiertz doesn't completely like the fact that their family is respected because of that. He often fears that some of his family members may go too far and abuse the power on innocent people. Nonetheless, he has been practicing the power as much as anyone has in the family.

In 1896, tragedy struck the family. Their sons and daughters, children, die in a very early age. Fathers and mothers lose their jobs. And some of the teenagers have committed suicide. The Vladimiras, from all over the world, have been struck with a curse. Nobody knows the cause, and nobody knows for how long. Now, the Vladimiras call to their most skilled children, including Kazimiertz, to find answers before it's too late. The sons have gone to fight the devils of the night, expecting answers in the blood-red hell. The daughters have gone to use their most precious power, in keeping this tragedy a secret from the world, in asking for help with the Vampiric Council, and looking for answers in the archives and libraries.

For Kaz, the answers to their family's questions... are calling from London.


-Abilities/Skills/Equipment-
Strengths
-Because of being a dampyr, he doesn't really have any vampiric power other than enhanced reflexes, strength (only has the strength of two men), vitality, agility(can run really fast but lesser than the average speed of a vampire), and stamina
-Because of being a dampyr, the sun doesn't actually weaken him, he has a reflection, he can cross running water, religious items don't weaken him, he can eat food and drinks, and he can survive without drinking any blood
-Can see clearly in the dark (but still lesser than any other vampire)
-Doesn't need to breathe
-Deception
-Observant and Quiet
-Peacekeeper
-Knowledgeable in the Hunt

Weaknesses
-Because of being a dampyr, he can die just as easily as any human, no need to cut his head off or anything
-There are times when he constantly coughs during the night, significantly weakening him in combat

Skillset
Extremely observant, a good shot, and has the knowledge and skills of a vampire. Only, it's lessened.

Equipment (If any)
A camera
View attachment 448862

Two Vladimiran Revolvers - extremely light but packs a punch
View attachment 448870

Alara - a revolver with the power of a sniper, zipping through metal with booming velocity, outrageous recoil (needs the strength of a vampire)
View attachment 448874
Powers/Abilities
None

I rather like your character, even moreso due to him not being that op. The only issue I see is the Alara, as you'd need to speak to Cerpin over it.

 

[ANONASAI]

Thanks! If CerpinTaxt doesn't approve then I'll just change it!

 

[The Shadow Realm]

KAZIMIERTZ SVANTE VLADIMIRA

View attachment 448836
View attachment 448837

-General-


Name: Kasimir Vaughn

Real Name: Kazimiertz Svante Vladimira

Alias: K or Kei, although his closest friends call him Ka.

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Nationality: Unknown (Possible nationalities include Czech and Romanian, judging from the real name)

Species: Dampyr (Vampire Half-Breed)

Faction: The Vampiric Council



-Physical Characteristics-



Hair Style: High Fade

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Eye Color: Dark Brown

Skin Color: White

Height: 5'7"

Weight: 130 lbs

Body Type: Light and Swift. Has a muscle mass of an average soldier.

Clothing:
Grey Fur Coat, with Formal Clothing underneath
View attachment 448839
View attachment 448842
View attachment 448843



-Personal Information-

Likes:

Books (Philosophy and Novels)

Music

Art

Writing

Photography

Etiquette and Formality

Cleanliness (always likes to clean himself up after every segment of an adventure, would love to help others clean their clothes too)

Offering Help in Little Things



Dislikes:

Death without Honor

Failure

Shame

Disgrace

Ghosts


Goal(s):

-To bring back peace in their family
-Adventure and thrill
-To publish a novel
-To capture the best moments of the hunt in a photograph


Your Deepest Fear(s):

-Being possessed by a demon


Personality

Because of his friendliness, his cheerful and outgoing nature, Kei is easily mistaken for a naive man. Many even tend to call him spontaneous, when it comes to entertaining others. The truth is, Kei is awfully observant. Ever since he was a teenager, he'd often observe and study different principles and different lifestyles of different people. This led him to understand and respect all kinds of people, especially the immoral ones. He understands how the cruel try to justify their actions, and ultimately thinks he can bring them back to a life of true happiness. He values cultural relativism, and will very much observe you the moment you two meet. He finds joy in entertaining others and making them happy.

This is why most call him naive... and the others--those who know him enough--call him a master of lies. Beneath this cheerful man lies a dampyr of many skills, particularly lying and deceiving people. This, of course, he gained through his observations of the people around him. Lying is not something he takes pride in, but ultimately needs to use when needed. Underneath this spontaneous person, is a man of observation and rational decisions. Although people may think he's driven by emotion, Kei wouldn't think twice about putting a bullet in a child's head if it was the right thing to do.

Background (Minimum of 2+ paragraphs.)

Kazimiertz Svante Vladimira, son of Vladimira, house of Vladimira. He is born of a powerful vampiric family, the Vladmiras, who are known for being cunning and deceiving. They are feared in all kinds of business: war, trade, and even art. This is because of a powerful skill that the family has passed on for generations: the art of deception. Through philosophies, poetry, linguistics, and whatever tools they have, the Vladimiras are able to change the perception of a person's own reality. The most skilled in their family can change someone's core values and principles if they will it. They have been feared for generations.

Kazimiertz doesn't completely like the fact that their family is respected because of that. He often fears that some of his family members may go too far and abuse the power on innocent people. Nonetheless, he has been practicing the power as much as anyone has in the family.

In 1896, tragedy struck the family. Their sons and daughters, children, die in a very early age. Fathers and mothers lose their jobs. And some of the teenagers have committed suicide. The Vladimiras, from all over the world, have been struck with a curse. Nobody knows the cause, and nobody knows for how long. Now, the Vladimiras call to their most skilled children, including Kazimiertz, to find answers before it's too late. The sons have gone to fight the devils of the night, expecting answers in the blood-red hell. The daughters have gone to use their most precious power, in keeping this tragedy a secret from the world, in asking for help with the Vampiric Council, and looking for answers in the archives and libraries.

For Kaz, the answers to their family's questions... are calling from London.


-Abilities/Skills/Equipment-
Strengths
-Because of being a dampyr, he doesn't really have any vampiric power other than enhanced reflexes, strength (only has the strength of two men), vitality, agility(can run really fast but lesser than the average speed of a vampire), and stamina
-Because of being a dampyr, the sun doesn't actually weaken him, he has a reflection, he can cross running water, religious items don't weaken him, he can eat food and drinks, and he can survive without drinking any blood
-Can see clearly in the dark (but still lesser than any other vampire)
-Doesn't need to breathe
-Deception
-Observant and Quiet
-Peacekeeper
-Knowledgeable in the Hunt

Weaknesses
-Because of being a dampyr, he can die just as easily as any human, no need to cut his head off or anything
-There are times when he constantly coughs during the night, significantly weakening him in combat

Skillset
Extremely observant, a good shot, and has the knowledge and skills of a vampire. Only, it's lessened.

Equipment (If any)
A camera
View attachment 448909

Two Vladimiran Revolvers - extremely light but packs a punch
View attachment 448870

The Mara - a revolver thought to be made with the metals of hell itself. A Vladimiran artifact. Zipping through metal with booming velocity, The Mara turns her victims into a blood-red mess of burning meat and flesh. This is only to be used as a last resort, as it leaves the wielder with a terrible sprain.
View attachment 448910

A Guitar - because why not
View attachment 448911

Powers/Abilities
None

Accepted!