Name: Kalman Varga,
Description: Tall, dark brown hair, permanent five o'clock shadow, slightly pudgy and not particularly fit. His defensive amulets are made out of chickenwire, and he uses a shovel as a staff.
Powers: Fairly proficient Vulcanomancer and (non-human) Necromancer. Amateur Porcine Theriomorph
Personality: Cautious and even paranoid are the easiest ways to describe this man. He doesn't trust easily and refuses to make eye contact, if purely because of some very haunting experiences soulgazing in the past; the same goes for using the third eye. He prefers not to get too involved in things, though if something gets his interest properly, he will become single-mindedly focused on it.
Background: His parents moved from Hungary before he was born. Growing up in South Central Los Angeles, he didn't have the best of childhoods, joining one of the smaller Eastern European gangs. Of course, upon discovering his magical abilities at the age of 14 with an unfortunate incident involving his neighbour's cat, his group quickly managed to become the top of their area. Few people mess with the guy who can capable reanimate swarms of dead insects. Since then, his family managed to get enough money to move away, but he keeps in very close contact.
Flavor Text: He is very amateur at the whole 'being a wild boar' thing. He has trouble with co-ordinating the legs.
Name: Kalman Vargas
Affiliation: The Conclave
Appearance: Tall, grizzled, unshaven, unkempt, slightly scarred, ugly. Fairly well muscled from gardening. Looks somewhere between a serial killer and a tramp. Clothing dirty and torn - normally gloves, boots, tracksuit bottoms, some kind of top, a battered homburg, and a long, many pocketed coat, no matter the weather, oddly enough. He doesn't smell nice. Left leg is slightly gimpy.
Personality: Kal is a grumpy bastard, and tends to show about as much emotion as your average rock. He doesn't like talking, and when he does, it's monosyllabic and terse. Gaining his trust is a practically Herculean task. He is very blunt, slightly obnoxious and rather rude to people he doesn't know.
His face is normally frowning or scowling. He occasionally smirks, but almost never smiles. He is not very fond of vampires. Somewhat paranoid.
Bio: Born to first generation Hungarian immigrants in the UK, Kal discovered his magical abilities at a young age whilst living in a particularly bad neighbourhood. He dabbled in zoonecromancy at an early age, but the Conclave hasn't found out about it. After his abilities were discovered by Conclave 'scouters', he was taken to the Earth College in Germany and was trained there. Since then he has been kind of an odd-job man for the Conclave, acting as a scouter, a guard, a gardener and landscape designer, and an instructor in Earth magic. Currently, he is in Indianapolis to help train the generalists in Terrasurgy and act as the Section Four Liason
Usual Items: Carries a shovel that he uses as a focal point, wears a Turul necklace. Occasionally has a small package of tobacco on his person.
Other: Powerful terrasurge. Exceptional gardener. Slightly addicted to chewing tobacco. Reads a lot of science fiction. Has a few contacts/favours to call in from the Fae.
Name: Geoffrey Sturne
Skills: Master Survival, Expert Herbalism
Weapons: One Longsword, One Axe
Appearance: Tall, haggard, heavily unshaven. Has a slightly mad glint in his eyes. Dirty, scarred skin, yellow teeth. Missing a finger, a few teeth and a chunk of an ear. Hair could have been any colour, but is now mostly dirt.
Personality: Geoffrey is a survivor above all, and thus looks after himself first and foremost, though he does recognise the fact that having allies does increase one's chance of survival. He is utterly ruthless, fights in an incredibly dirty manner and happily eats and drinks anything he can get his hands on. He does not care for his appearance. He does not particularly care for people he believes are slowing him down. He is slightly unhinged, and acts in a generally jumpy, alert manner. He is rude and coarse. He hates Templars with a vengeance.
-Born in Lothering
-Discovered his magical talents at an early age
-Tutored in Shapeshifting and magic by an Elf
-Never joined a Circle; subsequently hunted down by Templars, used his Shapeshifting abilities to escape, and has been running ever since. Difficult to track a swarm of bugs.
-Decided to join the Grey Wardens to gain some measure of immunity from the Templars
Partial Spell List: Stinging Swarm, Grease, Flame Blast, Winter's Grasp, Haste, Weakness, Arcane Bolt
List of Transformations: Swarm of insects, Spider, Bear, Farrow, Wolf, Mabari War Hound, Halla, Giant Rat
Name: James Rothmann
Personality: Laid-back and somewhat of a typical stoner attitude, James is fairly friendly andeady to get along with. He is very passionate about his favoured subject, and gets rather easily distracted. When he gets angered, he has a rather blistering temper that he will take out on all and sundry.
Appearance: Very tall, at around 6'4. Messy brown hair, face slightly lopsided due to a very minor stroke at a young age. Lanky and fairly lean. Fairly tanned skin from field and farm work. Mostly unshaven. Wears loose, comfortable clothing, such as t-shirts and tracksuit bottoms. Enjoys beanie hats.
Mundane skills: Cooking, Fishing, Camp Building
Innate 'superpower': Animal Empathy (Communication and Control)
Reason for ending up on the Island: As a passionate, devoted student of Biology, James chose to cone to the island for his GAP Year, hoping to be able to write a paper on his experiences and the wildlife in order to get a good chance of getting into one of the better universities,
Name: Constable Emils (Scaly, Scabies, Slime, Graargh, Hgraarg)
Magic/Attributes: No magic. Some minor Watch training. A lot of experience at chasing people whilst roaring and waving a spear.
Equipment: One Savage Lizard Man hunting/waving spear, one City Watch truncheon, one City Watch set of armour, small, wire spectacle frames, several 'worthless' gold trinkets*
Appearance: Savage Lizard Men are most easily described as a large, bipedal monitor lizard with a body at an angle of around 45 degrees from the horizontal. The skin is more reminiscent of a young crocodile. He wears Watch armour and helmet, but has lined it with rat fur and such to keep warm. He's a dark brown, like dry mud.
Race/Gender: Savage Lizard Men
Occupation: New member of the City Watch, still very green.
Biography: The Lizard Man race can be divided into three sub groups: The Stupid Lizard Men, whose job it is to be comedically idiotic goons for archetypal evil overlords and to be culled by Heroes in the dozens, and were all called Slime (now extinct by accidental suicide); the Savaga*Lizard Men who exist mostly in media res to chase down Barbarian Heroes and their entourage, and who, despite their greater speed, strength, stamina and such, will never catch the Hero, nor will they catch the presumably nubile love interest in impractical clothing, or the invariably annoying 'comic' relief (the serious friend of the Hero is fair game, especially if he's a minority). Without exception, they are called Graargh; the Salubrious Lizard Men, who possess lots of gold and get very upset if it is stolen, for religious reasons (they are religiously opposed to having easily replaced gold trinkets stolen from them), and will chase the Barbarian Hero for a short distance before letting their Savage cousins take over. They also attempt to sacrifice the nubile love interest, and are without exception killed just before they bring the knife down. They are mostly called Ethel.
Emils is a Savage Lizard Man, and decided that he was bored as hell withe the whole dramatic chasing thing. He left the Howandaland jungles, walked across Klatch, caught a boat to Ankh-Morpork and tried, like so many other naive/thick beings, to try and find his fortune. He didn't find that, but did find that having a lot of sharp teeth and claws makes surviving in the Shades quite a bit easier, as long as you avoid the trolls. In need of money, he joined the Watch, whose opinion seemed to be "Eh, we've got vampires now, why not a giant lizard."*
Other: Gets slower physically and mentally as it gets colder.
Name: Sean (Sāndor) Mersiter *
PESTERCHUM HANDLE: underhandAirship*
Title: Outlaw of Verve
Land/Consorts: Land of Juxtaposition and Coral (LoJaC)/Monitor
RESIDENCE: Pleasant SUBURBAN RESIDENCE*
Associated Item/Element: Limestone/Water*
WEAPON: AXEKIND (+MODELKIND) *
INTEREST: You have an amateur interest in collecting CRUMBLING FOSSILS, not to mention REPTILIAN FIGURINES and GIMMICKY ROBOTS. You are an avid TABLETOP GAMER and LIVE-ACTION ROLE-PLAYER, and are pertubed by your GUARDIAN's collection of DANGEROUS PISCINES *
Fetch Modus: Fishing Modus-Hope you catch what you want.*
Sprite: Ammosprite - Prototyped with a GIMMICKY ROBOTIC BANK-ALARM and a CRUMBLING AMMONITE fossil. Appears to be metallic, robotic tentacles, glowing blue eyes.
Web Browser: Turul
Typing Style: Types with good spelling and grammar, but has a tendency. To put in unecc. Essary full stops, and run together words like noone.
==> VIHEAR: DESCRIBE YOURSELF IN MORE EXPOSITORY MANNER
Sigh. If you must.
Your name is VIHEAR MAHISH and it is currently the WRIGGLING DAY of your YELLOW BLOOD MOIRAIL. You have let him have a SPECIAL PRESENT for this day, which goes against your ideals of UPHOLDING LAW and ORDER. But you suppose SENTENCING the CRIMINAL SCUM to a few rounds with your MOIRAIL is a level with letting your SOMEWHAT-HONOURABLE TYRANETTE LUSUS maul him for a while.
If it is not already apparent, you are OBSESSED with LAW and SENTENCING, and are almost certainly going to enter the JUDECIMATORICIARY when you are older. You regularly grill your other friends/enemies about whether they have broken any LAWS, or bent them or even thought about one of the above. You then strongly CONDEMN them if they had. You have FLARPed a few times, and have mostly stopped it from spiraling into a CYCLE OF VENGEANCE by beating the excrement out of those who have tried to start one with your gavelKind
followed by a LONG and VAGUELY THREATENING LECTURE.
Like all good JUDECIMATORS, you despise the SUBJUGGULATORS, despite your shared blood colour. This despising is platonic, of course.
You also collect COMICS from the FRINGES of the COMIC SPECTRUM. Your absolute favourite, surprise surprise, is TROLL JUDGE DREDD. You even enjoyed the RATHER LACKLUSTRE movie featuring TROLL SYLVESTER STALLONE.
You certainly do not have a FETISH for INCESSANT and BLATANT LAWBREAKING. Not in the slightest. All those are for mopping up blood alone. Not your sweat. Anyone who says otherwise is a LIAR and a CAD. You wield the gavelKind Strife Syllabus. You speak very formally, with a terse manner. Words to do with the LAW are given extra emphasis. You end pieces of speech with an emphatic tap of your GAVEL. -- Your Trollihandle is condemningTerror, and your sign is 牛
NOW BE THE YELLOW BLOOD
You are now Sollux Cap-
THE OTHER YELLOW BLOOD. HONESTLY.
You are now GULLIN LECTRY
It is currently your WRIGGLING DAY, and you have just finished using your SPECIAL PRESENT, a MUSTARD BLOOD who dared to AGGRIEVE a JADE BLOOD.
You currently stand in your PUGILISM CONTAINER, or, as your highblood MOIRAIL calls it, FIGHT CAGE, fighting with spurKind
and using your PSYCHOKINETIC POWERS to allow you to make deafening MIND NOISE that distracts your opponents
You should probably mop up the BLOOD before he sees it. He gets pissy if he sees blood on his nice floor, especially since you've already turned the walls by your cage green from blood and TROLL ALGAE.
You are a BRAWLER through and through, and regularly PUGILATE with anything that will take you on. Nowadays, that isn't much, and so you spend more of your other HOBBY.
MUSIC. Specifically TROLL METAL. CULL, HEAD FOLLICLE, THRESH, GRUNGE, ABLUTION, SHRIEK, MUSCLE, any kind will do. You write a fair bit as well, often getting your friends/enemies to write the SICK FIRES to be buried under a DELUGE OF SCREAMS provided by your TERROOSTER LUSUS.
You also have a slight interest in ROMANCE, although mostly for your MOIRAIL's benefit. You think that if he just FILLED A TRAINING-PAIL with someone, BLACK or RED, it would solve a lot of his problems.
You speak LOUDLY AND FUCKIN BOISTEROUSLY AND USE ROODE LANGUANGE LIKE A MOTHERGRUBFUCKING BOSS FORGET PUNCTUATION MAN THAT SHITS FOR BONEDIPS. Your Trollihandle is victoriousMetallica, your sign is _|-|
Titles: The Spider's Liege, the Custodian, the Preserver, the Caretaker, the Last to Leave, the Eight-Fold Lord, the Old Man, Eight-Eyes, Bel-Shamharoth, Starch-Cloak
Domain of Power: Entropy, as in the inevitable decay of the universe, and all its components, from a complex, ordered form to a simple, disordered one. Essentially, he is the God of the Second Law of Thermodynamics.
He also is the God of Spiders, who represent him as Custodians of Entropy and are sacred to him.
Human Form ignore spider legs):
He's about 4'6" and walks with a heavy limp. When he speaks, it sounds like he has a much larger group of voices speaking with him. His voice is raspy, and punctuated with clicks. He never blinks from any eye. He has a combat/travel form that resembles a huntsman spider with some aspects of jumping spiders and funnel webs.
You don't want to see his actual, spidery form. Trust me. It generally tends to break down the mind as one gets to see a graphic depiction of their life, death, rotting, etc.
Personality (Including goals): Despite the rather negative connotations of his domain, Aria-A'Tazsch works to keep the process of thermodynamic decay on schedule. He is a cantankerous son of a bitch, and is mostly interested with stopping other gods from screwing the process up too much, as they are want to do, especially now the AllGod, the only one really keeping them in check has buggered off. He very rarely uses his considerable entropic powers, as they act against his own purpose. He is not above using his power over spiders to spy and the like, nor is he above turning his priests and devoted gradually into giant spiders for certain purposes, nor is he above declaring war on other gods to stop them screwing around. He really hates having to deal with their messes. My best analogy would be a substitute universal janitor who's been in the job for bloody ages and is now having to face the problems of an entire group of rowdy students now that the teacher actually capable of ordering them around has gone. He can't control them or boss them, but he may be able to make them regret mucking up his nice clean floors.
Regions: 33, 32, 16, 17 [Brown territories]
Region descriptions: 17, Theraph, capital Apophysis, considering its border with the Great Desert is drier and hotter than the other regions. 16, Lycos, capital Taran, is fairly Mediterranean in clime, whilst 33, Salticii, capital Portia,is probably closer to Central American coasts. 32, Nephila, capital Clavipes, is a mixture of tropical grassland and sparse jungle, with a thick wall, made of earth and webbing dividing it from the Mad Lands. The vast majority of the fauna in these regions are giant arachnids, ranging from dog-sized ticks, to herbivorous elephantine scorpions and acid spitting bearlike Whip Scorpions. The culture is reminiscent of Greece. The vast majority of the priesthood, and small parts of the citizenry and army are giant spiders, a 'boon' from their God. These are known as the Children or the Chosen of Aria-A'Taszch. Worshippers of other gods are few and far between and those who pray to the more disordered or chaotic gods, or those who the Eight-Fold Lord believes to be threats to the process, are actively hunted down by the Chosen. There are large tunnel networks underneath the cities. A magical network of doorways links the temples together through a sorcerous realm called The Web.
Race: Vault 13 Deathclaw
Perks: Death Sense, Hide of Scars, Terrifying Presence
Tag Skills: Unarmed, Speech, Survival
SPECIAL: 9 ST, 8 PE, 9 EN, 5 CH, 7 IN, 1 AG, 1 LK
Looks: Smaller than average for a Deathclaw, Gharr is otherwise fairly standard for his species, with a fairly nice skin tone of deep russet. He is fairly old for a Deathclaw, a fact shown by his hide, which is covered in scars and bullet wounds, each marking a fight he has won, normally by virtue of his surprising guile
Apparel: A crude weaving of cloth, leather and metal that doesn't really serve as armour.
Weapons: His claws, teeth, horns and tail
Inventory: Two Deathclaw hands (equipped), 6 stimpaks, a variety of different plants, meats and other ingredients, various recipes, Gharr's 'armour'
Bio: Gharr was one of the Intelligent Deathclaws created by the Enclave in 2235 to aid in their raid on Vault 13, and like the others abandoned the Enclave cause and started a new life in the now abandoned Vault under Alpha Gruthar. Gharr was a hunter, who went out into the wastelands of the Core Region to hunt Brahmin and the like. He was hunting when the Enclave attacked Vault 13 again, and his family and friends were killed. Along with three other hunters, Xarn and Goris, he was one of the six Intelligent Deathclaws who survived the genocide.
Summoned by the bizarre powers of the Albino Deathclaw to the once again empty Vault, they decided to try and rebuild their species, and find a new place to live, safe from the Enclave. The hunters set off in various directions, and Xarn and Goris went about the task of repopulating - the gene for intelligence being on the male side of the equation.
Gharr travelled far across the United States, going North to see if he could find one of the boats to the Other Continent that were rumoured to leave from the Manhattan wasteland. On his journey, he encountered a lone wanderer escaping from an area known as the Pitt. The wanderer shot with a poisoned dart, beginning to cripple him. Gharr fled, and used his knowledge of herbs and the like to stop the venom, but was too late to save his left leg, which is now practically useless, the nerves unresponsive.
He didn't let this stop him. He carried on North, until he found himself in the Manhattan wastes. An urban legend is starting to spread about him.
Personality: Despite his fearsome appearance, Gharr is a friendly and even noble creature. He does not relish hurting humans out of anything except self defence, and prefers to try to talk to those who do not try to kill him on sight. Unsurprisingly, he doesn't get to talk to many humans. He is somewhat cynical due to the fact that everyone tries to kill him on sight. He is a skilled hunter, mimicking prey to lure them close before he ambushes them, making up for the fact that he can be outrun by pretty much everything. Despite his general friendliness, he is not opposed to using his perceived ferocity to his advantage, terrifying merchants into not charging him anything. After all, who asks a Deathclaw to hand over caps when he's currently idly flexing his claws in a way that grabs your attention. He desperately wants to get back to his remaining family in the Core Region, but is dedicated to exploring the Manhattan wastes.
Real Name: #14
Alias: The Reptile
Gender: Technically genderless, is generally assumed to be male, because using it as the only pronoun in third person writing is the road to madness.
Allegiance: GASH, technically
Powers and Abilities: Super-strong muscles, healing factor, super smell
Personality: Reptile is, put bluntly, a sociopath. He has little to no empathy for anything, and seems to enjoy hurting people, and has no qualms about murdering people he believes deserve it. However, he does have a highly twisted set of morals that prevent him from going on a massacre out of sheer boredom, and that have set him on his path to be a superhero, or at least, a superpowered individual that uses his powers mostly for the benefit of people. His behaviour is sometimes more comparable to a dog or other animal than any human, and he is often rather bizarre in action towards enemies, insulting them and freaking them out with creepily and badly sung versions of upbeat tunes or tellling off colour jokes. Despite all this, he is cunning and ruthless, and has an exceptional memory. He does not kill children, instead psychologically scarring them by acting kind of like a bogeyman. Sometimes he stalks criminals before he kills them, and often refers to them as 'prey'. He generally does not kill high ranking crime lords, as he recognizes the stabilizing effect they have on the city, although he does enjoy showing off how easy it would be for him to kill them if he wanted to.
He absolutely hates puns, and is distinctly unnerved by lavender scented candles. Only the candles, mind you.
History: Reptile is one of the few surviving leftovers of the 'genetic superbeing' craze of the eighties, although saying so will probably get your face a nice set of inch deep scars. Created as part of the 'Animaloid Assassins' project, he was one of the few creations to survive after a Bombardier Beetle based subject got angry and blew up most of the building. He was told to 'Be a good little...being' by one of the scientists he had imprinted onto post-hatching, who had been the only one who had been relatively nice to him throughout the 'training', which were mostly pitting the various subjects against each other and making various changes to the genetic sequence based on performance, alongside various horrendous trials designed to make them better super-assassins.
Reptile left to Luster City, taking his parental figure's words to heart. At first he worked with the police, but he grew tired of seeing criminals get off on technicalities and the like. So, as is natural to an amoral sociopathic lizard, he made sure that those criminals who do commit crimes that are, in his mind at least, worthy of a death sentence do get it, by his own claws.
He has been a presence in the city for nearly 20 years, and has been killing for around 16. He is feared by petty criminals across the city, and in the disorganized parts of the underworld, he is something between Bogeyman and scarily real Urban Legend.
Extra Goodies: He's probably on GASH for the same reason the Joker's in a league of supervillians - better have him in the team and working in some degree of coordination with the rest of the team than just having him be a wild card that could potentially wreck everything.
He can sing 'The lion sleeps tonight', 'I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts' and the like in an incredibly unnerving tone.
He is fifteen foot long including tail, and is a kind of concrete grey. He can glide for short distance on rib-based patagia, and can climb walls by using his claws like climbing hooks.
Name: Sean Barry Merister
Appearance: Tall and unkempt, his most striking features are the ugly burn welts down the left side of his face that he got in a fight and his Dali-esque moustache. His hair is black, and his one good eye is hazel. He normally wears gear similar to that of your typical stage magician, for some reason. He wields a baton, mostly for show.
Bio: Sean has been a mercenary ever since his recruitment into the Hub. Previously, he worked as a stage magician, and continues to wear his outfit. He once went on a mission to capture a rogue Bishop, and ended up with a burnt face for his troubles. A lack of respect for deadlines and some on-the-job laziness has stopped him getting promoted. Whilst he is a rather skilled Knight, and his ability at co-ordinating Steve in battle is exceptional, he is something of a slacker, and also has a tendency to be somewhat rude and snarky to those he does not respect.
Spirit: His Spirit is called Steve, and is similar to a very large and long ragworm, if one were to wear heavy bladed metal armour. The protruding blades can fold back against the body, and are normally like this. When he is surprised, shocked or scared, they reflexively spring up, normally terrifying his riders. Steve is a surprisingly intelligent and friendly creature for his rather frightening appearance, even enjoying having his underside stroked. He is also somewhat nervy and is quite easily surprised, shocked or scared. He is a pleasing shade of beige.
- Tunnel: Steve burrows underground, and rises up somewhere else in a burst of dirt.
- Constrict: Steve wraps the opponent in a loving embrace, stopping human sized ones from moving and slowing bigger ones
- Scissorface: Steve lunges at the enemy attempting to wound them with his large jaws
Skills: Skill points: (0): Stomp (level 1)
Stats:No code has to be inserted here.
Callsign/Nicknames- Mozzy, Skeeter, Count Bugula, Hobo, Big Bugger, Crazy Homeless Vampire, Mulder
Rank- Officer in Charge of supernatural equipment
Race/Species- Adze Vampire
Training/Abilities- Natural flight, high speed, sharp claws, slightly unnerving form, can inject an anaesthetic, unable to speak human languages, afraid of frogs, wasps and dragonflies, no training in weaponry or technology
Equipment- Carries Johanns
Biography- Spawned in Africa in 1979, Urihkti was always fairly curious for an Adze, and enjoyed journeying even more than many of his kind, travelling across Europe up into Britain, going as far north as the Orkney Isles where he came across a dead Bureau agent who had been brutally killed by the Nuckelavee on his task of retrieving Johanns from an old castle there. The skull had been untouched by the elf, and managed to convince the vampire to carry him to the Bureau's headquarters. Luckily for Urihkti, the skull also talked the guards out of shooting his carrier to death. Urihkti was offered a job as Johanns' carrier for reasons unknown, and accepted. He developed an illusion to cover up the skull and himself so they could be more inconspicuous on missions where they were needed.
Appearance- - he is about half the size of the bastard in that picture. Think Shetland Pony, not Shire horse
Other- Is paid in goat blood. Understands English. Smells of new carpet. Can't stand up to anything in a fight. Has trouble with light breezes. And no, he doesn't drain blood as a battle technique.
Callsign/Nicknames- Skullsy, Skully, Diamond Joe, Jojo, Swiss Cheese, Brainiac, Bookworm, Bright Eyes
Rank- Supernatural equipment
Race/Species- Crystal Skull
Training/Abilities- Encyclopaedic knowledge of mythological lore, creatures, rituals and language, emits ghostlight from his eye sockets which allow others to see through illusions and glamour, can let out a horrible earsplitting screech that can deafen people for a few minutes, if placed on a book he can memorise its contents in about half an hour, is nigh indestructible
Equipment- Communication device
Biography- Created in 1388 by a Swiss Mage who needed a way to store ritual knowledge and potion recipes that could temporarily defend itself. As he continued with the project, he added various other features to the skull such as the knowledge of linguistics, the ghostlights and actual intelligence. The mage was killed in an anti-magi assault by the Church, and Johanns was taken by one of his servants who fled the country, through to France and into England. He sold the skull for money, and Johanns was bought by a variety of rich families, eventually passing of the hands of the McAllans, an Orcadian paranormal-aware family who had ties with the early Bureau, letting them use Johanns from time to time. Eventually, the last of the McAllans passed away, and a Bureau agent was sent to collect the skull. The rest you probably know.
Other- Accent switches between Scottish, Swiss and what appears to be Tongan, for some reason. Hates Italians with a passion
Name: Sean Rothmann
Personality: Sean is a relatively quiet and dour fellow, and is still deeply affected by the death of his son and his subsequent actions. He does not like talking about his past, and is quick to try and latch on to other people. Subconsciously, he has a tendency to act as a father figure to them. He does, however, possess one hell of a temper when roused and has a tendency towards violent reflex actions when surprised. He has problems with alcohol and smoking.
Bio: Sean's father was away from home a lot when Sean was young, and although his dad did love him and was a good father, his absence affected the young man. Sean joined the police force at a relatively young age of 20, and met his girlfriend and future wife there. He led a fairly constant life as a policeman for about 3 years, and then his wife became pregnant.
It was not his child, but the result of a drunken one night stand his wife had. Nevertheless, when the child's true father was not forthcoming, he swore to take care of the kid like they were his own. He promised to be there for them. He was overjoyed to learn he had a new son. Luckily for his family, the child looked fairly similar to him, so no rumours were raised, and the kid's real father, when discovered, chose not to involve himself in the boy's life. The boy grew up happily, learned well and was planning to take a job in engineering. He was killed a few days before his seventeenth birthday in a hit-and-run accident. Sean went mad with grief, got very drunk, and brutally attacked the boy's real father at his house, stabbing him repeatedly with a knife, and trying to burn down the house. Luckily, he realised what he was doing, and managed to drag the man out of the burning house and call the emergency services. His victim survived, just, and nobody was harmed in the fire. He willingly turned himself in, and he and his wife separated whilst he was in prison. He only served 15 years in prison, being released early for good behaviour. He toured schools, lecturing on alcohol and prison in an attempt to make up for what he believed was failing his son. On his way to another town, he has decided to make a stop-over in Silent Hill.
Other: He kept himself fit over the two years after his release from prison, and is in very good physical condition for a man of his age. The scar is from somebody trying to cut his eye out when he was a police officer.
Sean is tall at around 6'3, and is quite heavily built. Most of it is muscle. His skin is hard and callused from life, and he possesses scars from both police work and prison life. His hair is going grey and he hides a bald patch with that cap. He smells of cigarettes and alcohol. He has a psychosomatic limp in his left leg. He has taken to wearing a trenchcoat and wellington boots against the relatively horrible weather of New England. He has a Colorado accent.
Experience Points: 0
Character Level: 1
Mental Health: 15
Melee Attack: 10
Physical Defense: 5
Magic Power: 5
Magic Defense: 4
Melee Weapon Expert: Increases Weapon Accuracy of Melee Weapons by 10% and do an extra 10% Damage with Melee Weapons (Excludes Unarmed Strike). Cost: 1 AP
Iron-Will: You have an iron will. Increase max Will by 10%. Cost: 1 AP
Skills (2 left)
Fierce Strike: Perform a powerful attack with a Melee Weapon that doubles the damage result. Depletes 10 Health. Cost: 1 SP
Scavenging: You know how to successfully search and find things. You can use this Skill to make an Intelligence Check to look around the area for hidden things you might not find so easily. The higher the result the higher chance to find a good item. Cost: 1 SP
Photo of his son
Map of the town
So, as I promised, I just designed some monsters around my character's personality and history
I used this fill-in-the-blanks meme to help me
Childhood is the Cradle - It represents his dad's luggage that he took with him when he went away
Pain is the Brat - Represents his son's dead body in a corpse bag, the baby-like limbs suggest the way Sean mollycoddled him and the missing belly was just a personal touch based around roadkill
Fear is the Hepatrion - basically a big cancerous liver that moves around like a slug
Miss/Final boss is the Jabberwock - It was his son's favourite poem, and the kid was always a fan of dinosaurs and the like.
Sexual intake is the Angler - Two ways to take this, either he is the parasitic male worm thing because he wasn't the father of the child, or the cuckolder is because he wormed his way into their marriage, and impregnated Sean's wife. Latter probably works better because of the sperm/egg image it carries as well. Legs suggest birthing position. Whole thing based off Sea Devils/Ceratid anglerfish
Hard Time is the Clicker- It's the lock on the gaol cell door. Easy enough.
Regret is the Splitter - The wounds and burns on the figure are greatly exaggerated compared to what they actually were, but they've amplified in his mind to become like that. It probably breathes fire or knives or something.