Naturalized Zoanthrope (Weretiger):

Information
Of the zoanthropes the weretiger holds a unique place among the rarest and most rightfully feared; it is an unnatural beast of tremendous power and incredible ferocity. Yet the weretiger is equally one of the more unusual zoanthropes in that, while known for unmatched savagery and viciousness, is not largely an aggressor. The majority of weretigers who do exist are naturally occurring with one, at times both, parents being weretigers. Surprisingly, most natural weretigers hold a remarkable amount of self control; they are often of an understanding with their other nature and innately capable of holding back its violence. This does not rule out the continued existence of their wrath, that of which is truly infamous; a provoked weretiger is prone to turn from calm companion to roaring fury. Because of this, most natural weretigers are known to have decidedly aggressive streaks to their personality as manifested outlets of their supernatural fury.

Most afflicted weretigers are the result of another weretiger making a conscious decision to pass on the blood curse, as few human victims ever survive an encounter with one who has been infuriated to the point that they would let loose claw and fang. Such afflicted individuals often struggle with the tiger's propensity for violence and find great difficulty in controlling their anger or irritability. When truly uncontrolled most weretigers fight to kill anything of which proves to be too foolish to get out of harm's way, at times including those they would regularly never consider harming. These rages are often brief unless the weretiger fails to enact revenge against the thing which drove it to anger.

As a whole weretigers are the rarest of ailuranthropes and their lineage finds itself traced back to Asia but has since expanded globally with time. Most weretigers without an Asian or Indian heritage are Caucasians of American or English nationality, given that historically both countries have been particularly active in these regions and even more so in the later 20th century.

Backstory
For Asher Tybalt the beginning of his life was set well on the course for failure before it even began as his mother, a younger woman, knew few of her partners quite well; she spent her nights out and away from home, wasting the education that her family had fought so readily for. It was on one of these nights where his mother, enjoying a party as she was, was charmed by an unusual man with dark hair and a cunning, almost animal magnetism to his personality; having already had a few drinks she was more than willing to oblige him and his advances. It was this man who would be Asher's father - a man he would never meet - and just as quickly as he met Asher's mother, he was as quick to disappear from her life all in the same night, having passed on the curse to the child the woman soon bore.

Description:
Asher Tybalt finds himself mired in the world of consumer data entry - a job in which, day in and day out, he busies himself by entering the personal information and habits of customers. Such a decision was not made without rationale, as Asher, well aware of his blood's curse, sought an occupation that required little direct interaction with others unless absolutely required; it too provided a sense of normalcy, a regular life of which he could not normally live - the idea of "Everyone commutes to work, hates working in cubicles, and gossips about one another behind each others' backs, then goes home before sunset." Though not fond of his work, and truly loathing its monotony, Asher tries to accept his reality as best one can, and shrink away from the truth that, on some nights, stares him back so clearly in the mirror.

For Asher, his coworkers provide more than sufficient insanity, and the already withdrawn man only stays separated further. Most view him as timid, or quiet, not wanting to start conflict or even so much as talk, but few could ever imagine the rationale behind such behavior, let alone believe it. Ostracized, much of his time is spent actually working than socializing, which is in great contrast to his peers. Inadvertently this has but only earned him more work, more pressure, and more stress; forced to take on the added work load of his coworkers, his superiors hold unrealistic expectations from him, all while turning a blind eye to their other subordinates.

As of recent times Asher has drifted closer and closer to that ever present threat, no longer remaining so tolerant and passive; aware of this, he fears what could easily be the result...

Description:
Asher is gifted with unusual athleticism and charm for a man who spends most of his days inside several thin office walls; his height, and build, both atypically tall and lean, are subtle indicators that he is more than just an average man. Standing at six feet four inches, he is ill suited to his economy car and small apartment, let alone most of the world around him; his build doesn't help either, and brings to mind questions as to his hobbies and level of exercise. Though not the form of a polished athlete, Asher is surprisingly muscular and could be, at a glance, mistaken for an individual who takes fitness at a more serious level than the common person. Again, like his father Asher is clean shaven, with his dark hair cut close and tight, and eyes glinting with an unusual underlying cunning - one that never seems to manifest and does not seem appropriate for a man who appears to be so quiet and submissive.

Having tried to live a more tame, controlled life, Asher has no piercings, no tattoos - nothing that could readily identify him, and nothing that could provide reason for attention. Dressing modestly day in and out, his most common apparel is an informal business attire, most often a white long sleeved shirt, black pants and dress shoes, and a simple tie; a dress code which strangely irritates him given its restrictiveness and conformity.

Description:
The other aspect of Asher is a far cry from his humanity - it is not only enormous, but wholly fearsome, rippling with unnatural musculature and cloaked in a striped pelt. For him, the transformation is violent and prolonged over a minute as his nails thicken and curve into powerful claws and his jaws reform into a maw of deadly fangs; growing to a height of nearly eight feet, balanced on pawed feet with hostile golden eyes, little evidence of Asher himself remains when he takes on his alternate form. With ample strength and agility, Asher's weretiger form is far more capable than he, as a mere person, could ever dream to be - its terrifying and uncontrolled supernatural power visibly evident.

A powerful abomination of human and bestial forms, Asher Tybalt's "other self" is of an orange, edging toward yellowed hue, with a lighter cream coloration upon the interior of his limbs from throat to abdomen, but most iconically marked by irregular nearly ebony brown markings. Despite this, like any other ailuranthrope, seems to fade into concealment when provided even the scarcest of cover or darkness.

Description:
If there ever was a man one could feel the presence of the unusual from, it is Asher Tybalt. His timidness and aversion to conflict is a behavior of coping he has developed and managed for some time, and his silence even in conversation proves awkward, but one can rationalize his conclusions as wrong as they may be; one can't cause issue with others if they prove not to challenge them. He fears, truly fears, that his uncontrolled anger and denial of his condition could come unhinged - that anger, or even argument, could bring out a murderous, savage side to him. First hand has he witnessed what his unregulated personality has in mind, and by the mere way he trembles in his hands as they clench in argument, one can see he is a loose cannon; the unstable postal worker.

Though he tries to bury his hatred and memory by venting it on monotonous and seemingly mind numbing tasks, Asher can truly never forget what it is he had done; it earned him, to some extent, infamy in the media although they never knew - would never suspect - the two events to share correlation. Blocking out the savage death his tapped anger brought with it, he shows signs of terrible anxiety and even elements of post-traumatic stress; he nervously toys with pens, shakes a single leg, or taps a finger to a palm, all while proving somewhat easily startled when distracted or focused.

When away from the stressful, demanding environment of his workplace, he reads profusely to preoccupy his thoughts. Much of the material he studies is of factual nature, again trying to remove the possibility from his mind that his condition is all very real despite it being clearly being of the impossible nature. When not reading he instead preoccupies his time by further mundanity such as obsessively cleaning and removing evidence of his other form, going so far as to collect each and every feline hair he can, and replace every broken cup or clawed wall.

On evenings of the full moon his anxiety controls him outright and he attempts to the best of his ability to not alter his pattern of behavior, clinging fearfully to what it is that he knows and not face that which is unknown to him. This is, as one can muse, a tactic which does meld well with his weretiger blood, and once freed the beast roams the night with deadly curiosity...

Description:
An only child, Asher Tybalt spent many of his early years as an outcast among his would-be family; his mother essentially disowned, his upbringing was largely around her, and despite her continued attempts to calm the unusual behavior and aggression she and others noted in Asher, he turned out for the worse rather than the better. His public education rather poor, Asher failed to excel in school where much of his energy was spent on outbursts of anger when pressed to engage in activities he did not desire part in. At best a "B" student and more often than not attaining a C, he cared nothing for organized learning, instead desiring solitude and the ability to read - his comprehension of which was above those in his grade, but never found itself applied.

As time progressed and Asher found himself in the world of a younger man, his future choices were limited between work and a military career. Having not yet discovered his true nature and not wanting to conform to a rigid social structure and life, Asher pursued work, doing minor jobs as he tried to press on through the remainder of his schooling. Yet as his maturity progressed, he altered in ways he did not expect and honed without cause; his mother, desperate to cling to some good that came from the entire unintended pregnancy told him that he was, in some ways a striking echo of his father - that he would be charming and strong. Unwilling to listen, considering his father dead to him, Asher continued an aimless path until the rise of the moon on one particular summer night.

Away from home and "family" - his mother - Asher sat in the quiet evening attempting to hone one of his few skills - writing. As dusk at last fell he could not explain his anxiousness or sudden pacing, and attributed his unusual lack of focus to frustration, but as the silver orb ultimately crested the horizon he found himself transfixed by it; pained inexplicably, he struggled to fight the rush of adrenaline that accompanied his change. With progressively agonizing breaths he twisted and altered under the moon's presence until he tore free of both his mortal bonds and clothes alike...

Unknowingly he wandered for hours, stalking, hunting and adapting to his true nature against his will, watching helplessly as this seemingly foreign entity controlled his movements, but at the same time he knew well that it was he who was fueling this horror. It was not until the sun of the next day fell upon him that he at last awoke from his terror; a dream all too real. Gathering himself up, clothes torn free and his body nicked and marred in faint places, he believed himself to have hallucinated - that someone had drugged him. With haste he returned home, not to speak of the incident to anyone else, fearing what it was that the event could have inferred...

In time Asher suffered these recurring "nightmares", as he termed them, and devoted a sole book to their occurrences; writing his vivid dreams and hallucinations, he noted how he seemed to faintly influence them, that some how he all along drove this monster to act. Curious, yet imaginably worried, Asher devoted more recollection and prompting to them until they became a strange comfort, somehow giving him the power and freedom he desired at heart, but with time his pride, and temper grew. A more confident, charming young man, he made a mistake that many young zoanthropes fall prey to; violence.

After a night at a bar Asher, stumbling, returned to his car, only to be stopped cold in his tracks by a lone man who had crept in upon him from the shadows. With a worn leather jacket pocket containing the faint glint of metal, the man demanded Asher hand over his wallet and keys - the entirety, in a sense, of what he owned as a young man. Inebriated, as well as youthfully brave and foolish, Asher taunted the man mocking him with a gun gesture of his own. Unimpressed, the man struck, and as the hammer of the revolver fell the night roared twice; once with the sound of iron thunder and the second time with a primal, unholy bellow.

Asher, standing over his attacker, felt the run of red between his claws and the warmth of escaping life down his jowls; he had never killed before, but as he looked down upon the man he felt unrelenting hate and bewildering fear. It was he who had done this - he, Asher Tybalt, not this other. He had wanted to kill the man after the bullet tore and bit deep into his flesh - a wound which now stained the white of the fur that was his chest. However nothing could be done... he could not will this away; it was not a dream, mere imagination, no, he was very much this thing and that which he had done was all real as well.

Description:
Having lived alone in his adult life so modestly Asher has steadily gathered his meager earnings into savings in the hope that one day he need not work again; the psychological pressures building upon him as well as his unnatural anxiety, he wishes to be out of the environment he finds himself currently in, knowing that no matter how hard he tries he can never truly blend among the rest of society. His coworkers, still belittling him and prying him, as well as his boss providing undue pressure, have made Asher a hair trigger. Another major change or turning point in Asher's life is likely to break him and put him into a state of mixed repressed anger ousted and longed for freedom, as twisted and savage as it is; a zoanthrope hiding and sheltering - let alone fearing - their nature is a recipe for imminent disaster.

Ready for a life change in more ways than one, he's unaware of the strange turn of events impending upon him and a select few others - all he can hope, is that when things do change, they at last change for the better, as his familiarity with change... well, it only suggests that things can go from bad to worse...

Name: Jacob Schmidt

Gender: Male

Age: 23

Lineage: German American

Fate: 2, 1 expended to survive Zoanthrope attack, while being afflicted with the curse.

Relationship Status: Single

Occupational Status: Employed, retail chain salesman at Yancy's, a nationwide corporation known for it's green vests, and destruction of mom and pop businesses with oppressively low prices.

Physical Description: Jacob stands at an average 5’10, and weighs in at an average 170 pounds. His skin is a healthy tan from his time spent outdoors. He has a full head of dirty blonde hair, down to the collar of his shirt, always worn pushed back from his face, and behind his ears. Jacob’s nose is large, with piercing blue eyes and he has a high widow’s peak in his hairline declaring his German lineage.

On his jaw line, he wears constant stubble, the same shade of his hair. Jacobs left shoulder is the home of a gruesome scar, the wound given to him by the Zoanthrope who attacked him, and bit him. On his right shoulder is a tattoo of an ocean wave, breaking apart a ship.

Alternate Physical Description: When in his shape shifted form, Jacob takes on the form of a timber wolf. His coat is several shades of color. From his paws to the tops of his legs are white as snow. From here, up to his back, is a fade into blond hair. The top of his back is black, circled in a ring of white fur.

His snout is white, out to the edges of his mouth. The top of his muzzle is copper, where it fades into a grey mixture of black and white. His eyes are a dirty yellow as well. Tried to avoid using a picture, but this is basically what I’m describing

In his anthromorphic form, he is a 6 and a half foot tall brute, his legs larger, more powerful versions of themselves, his rippling arms, ending in giant claws, capable of rending a man into pieces. His head is still that of a wolf, with a powerful jaw able to snap a man’s thigh in a quick bite. His coat is the same as his more natural canine form.

Psychological Profile: Jacob is a calm, collected individual, most of the time. He is genuinely happy, and can be usually be found with a smile on his face. However, the closer to the full moon it gets, he finds himself getting more anxious, and tense, waiting for the turn. Even though it comes with pain, its also a relief afterwards.

Although he was shocked by the fact that the world contained Zoanthropes, he doesn’t believe in other creatures of the night, and will be shocked and at least initially afraid of any other beings in the world. He enjoys the outdoors, and finds it calming, and often heads to parklands to hike, and this is where he was bit, and changed.

Alternate Psychological Profile: When changed, Jacob is different. He enjoys running with packs of animals, hunting deer. Tracking all the scents and sounds he could not hear as a human. He does retain a sliver of control during this time, keeping himself from hunting humans, at least, for now. He enjoys the primordial euphoria of hunting, and the taste of fear from the kills far more than he would ever care to admit. When he awakens from the changes back to human with murky memories of the night, he shudders at the thought of how much he enjoys it.

Background: Jacob is the eldest son, in a family of 4. His father was in the Military, causing his family to move around fairly often, giving him a lack of roots his entire life. His mother being a stay at home mother for most of his upbringing, only waiting until he and his sister were in high school to start working, although she was limited by her lack of education to low level, entry positions in retail. His younger sister was born 11 months after him, making them “Irish twins”. He was always protective of her, but not that she ever needed it from him.

His education was standard, maintaining a B average in high school. He didn’t win any most likely awards, he wasn’t popular. He just graduated and didn’t attend any college, for he had no real intention to. He just started working, and hiking. The last relocation of his father took them to the Pacific Northwest, where he was able to fully embrace his love of the outdoors, constantly hiking and camping in the parks and wilderness about the region.

However, this area would also be where he would become a Zoanthrope, attacked on a lone hike in the forest. He was able to wound the beast with a knife, and defend himself from the attack, just barely. He bandaged his wounds, and quickly set up a makeshift camp, as weakness overtook him. It was here, he would hover on the fringe of life and death for 2 days, in a hallucinogenic trance, before eventually surviving, and heading to a hospital for stiches and medical care. After an extremely fast recovery, due to his new regenerative gifts, he thought nothing of the encounter for the rest of the month, until the full moon.

He spent the entire day, anxious and nervous, for reasons he didn’t fully understand. He thought it was some sickness, and so called out of work, remaining restless the entire day. He would turn in the shower, terrified and in pain. He remained in his apartment, trapped and confused, waking up the next day in a destroyed room, vaguely aware of what happened. It has since been three years, and Jacob hasn’t told a soul about his affliction, integrating normally into society. His goals are to become a Park Ranger, or Forest warden in the future, and plans to enter training, or put forward an application, although he puts it off constantly.

Recent History: Jacob cannot remember anything about his last shift. He awoke in the middle of the forest naked, and alone. After some navigating of the familiar terrain, he made his way back to his tent, without being seen. He got dressed, packed up, and hiked back to his old Jetta Stationwagon. He placed his belongings in the car, and drove home, thinking nothing about the trip. It wasn't uncommon for him to not remember much about the shifts.

He returned home, and showered, and without much else to do, went to bed, and slept the entire day off.

It was the next day that when he watched the news, he saw a bit about a woman missing in the woods, who was in the forest the same day he was. Jacob was worried, feeling a cold sweat break out. He applied for transfer to another facility, and started packing his belongings. He kept up with the story. A week later they discovered the remnants of the woman's body, saying she was attacked by an uncharacteristically large animal.

It was a guilty feeling Jacob who left the day after roadtripping across the usa to flee his demons, uprooting himself for the sake of his conscious. Within a month however of resettling, he had mostly pushed the blame from his mind. It wasn't him, it was just some bear, he assured himself. And with those happy thoughts, he integrated back into society. But still some nights, Jacob was plagued by the thought of the woman's death being his fault, and if he could ever do anything good enough to counter the bad he brought into the world

Information
WIP

Backstory
Emmy grew up like any normal girl during the 50's and early 60's. She was born and raised in upstate New York to a military father and stay at home mother. She was a rather good student growing up. Though she fell into a more hippy lifestyle as she became more mature. Getting wrapped up in the whole free spirit movement. Like any hippy during that time found themselves at woodstock, especially living so close. During the last day Emmy found herself rather disoriented on some rather strong drugs she was slipped from a kiss. During her stupor she found herself in a tent, her vision a blur as she was wrapped up with another girl. Soon she lost consciousness and when she woke up it had apparently been a couple of days and somehow young Emmy survived; though not in the normal sense. She was dead yet still alive. A new creature that racked her with pain and a hunger that was unnatural.

Information
A more sturdier version of Vampire. Often brought about through extreme, though non-fatal, exposure to lethal substances and somehow survive. Though inherently not stronger they are more resilient. Though they aren't immune to any of the lethal substances they can handle a small degree of exposure. They can go out in heavily over cast days with quite some discomfort though not burning. When stepping into direct sunlight they do not immediately burst into flames though their skin begins to burn and sizzle like acid was poured on their skin. They can be near and smell garlic and only get a mild reaction, resembling that of a mild allergic reaction. Et cetera. She has also gained a rather aptitude for being able to take a beating.

Backstory
During a trip out into the wilderness looking for an unsuspecting hunter to sate her hunger away from watchful eyes. Though finally finding a meal she had let time escape her. Looking up from the corpse she found the beginning rays of morning begin to stretch out from the mountain tops. With great haste she went towards a broken down shed she had found with outside the burnt down ruins of a cabin. By the time she arrived at the shed she threw herself in just in time before the shadows faded and filled the region with harsh light. There were several holes and withered spots from years of decay that let in specks of light.

Doing her best to survive she used her leather jacket as a cover to protect her bare face and hands and hoped her jeans and boots would do well enough to protect her legs. Though it protected her body to some degree it was not perfect. The rays of light spotted the inside of the shed and the UV rays slowly seared her flesh like she were in an oven on low heat. After nearly thirteen hours the sun finally set and Emmy lay in the shed hardly breathing. A passerby could smell the scent of burning flesh. Horrified intrigue brought him to the shed and looked in to see the feminine figure huddled up under a leather jacket, smoke billowing out lightly. The poor bastard couldn't help himself. He come closer to the girl and removed the jacket to see what lay beneath. The poor mans last memory was the partly melted girls figure pounced onto him and tearing into him viciously to fill herself with his blood. He hardly lasted a moment before lost to much blood to survive. As she fed her body slowly healed itself. She didn't stop until every drop was swallowed.

Description:
Emmy lives a less then extraordinary life as a Bartender. One of few occupations a vampire could keep as it is primarily done when the sun is down. She rather enjoys the job as the patrons are small in numbers given the location and there aren't many regulars. Due to the small number of customers she is often the only one working at night. Though the job also is a testament to her resolve to her change, no longer feasting on fresh blood but its bagged counter part. Not to mention her unnatural charm has a rather lovely appeal to her tip jar.

Description:
Emmy is a rather petite and nonthreatening girl. She stands at only five feet and six inches with a weight of barely over one hundred and ten pounds. She has long, faintly curly brown hair that stretches down to just below her shoulder blades. She has enchanting amber eyes that are only enhanced by her pale complexion in contrast. Under direct like you could see the faint darkening around her eyes that would almost seem like she suffered from mild insomnia. Her body is flawless in most respects, hardly a blemish or scare to be found. She has a rather fit bit, nothing abnormal but the appearance of a healthy lifestyle with mild exercise. She has a flat stomach with the faintest display of her hips bones. Her sides are mildly curved as they come down to her hips. Her lips are full and hold a natural light pink color.

Emmy wears rather form flattering clothing. Snug jeans and a shirt that accents her ideal physique quite nicely. More often then not Emmy would be found wearing her dark leather jacket that seems to hold a rather aged look to its material. She usually wears her heavy boots or her pair of well-worn converse sneakers that she has owned for many years. When not trying to win someone over or working Emmy usually holds a rather uncaring and melancholy expression. A rather adamant introvert she tends to avoid conversations that directly involve her. Despite this she isn't unknown to put on a sweet and charming facade with a bright smile that could win over nearly anyone who sees it.

Description:
Though Emmy is rather well practiced in acting in a rather happy and out going manner in truth she is quite introverted. She prefers time alone and left to her own thoughts. Emmy only ever seems tense and is incredibly distant when she becomes hungry. That happens more often then she would like but the bagged blood doesn't nearly sate her hungry as much as the fresh stuff. To cope she is often seen with alcohol or a cigarette as a means of curbing her appetite. Because of her almost ceaseless hunger she has some nervous ticks like biting her lip, fidgeting with something in her hands, tapping with a pencil, or biting her nails. If she has her cigarettes or alcohol with her she is able to curb most of those nervous ticks.

Over several years Emmy has learned to suppress most of these ticks under control in public if she concentrates rather intently. When she is working she uses some of her nervous ticks to her advantage, biting her lip and playful touching usually gets her more tips. While working Emmy seems rather sweet and kind. Joking around and flirting aren't strange to see from the girl while she mixes drinks and takes orders. Knowing how her hunger can get the better of her she often carries a bag of blood hidden in a personal cooler hidden in ice under normal seeming food. Sneaking in the back to take quench her thirst. If her thirst becomes to strong she can get rather irritable and short fused. When this happens she tries to walk away before she gets physically violent and... bitey.

Description:
WIP

Description:
As of Recently Emmy lives in a small town working in a local Bar. The last place she had lived she lost control of her appetite and killed a young girl that pissed her off when she was hungry. She packed up and moved immediately and found another Bartending job. She found a small, unassuming motel that asked little questions of their tenants. She began making the small payments and saving the rest in a large duffle bag kept in her closet. Though blood bags aren't as readily available as before she does find a way to get her hands on them. Often paying a low level orderly to sneak them out the back that is usually to stoned to ask questions.

Aside from working and resting Emmy doesn't do much. She sits around in her motel drinking and smoking while watching terrible late night television. This is one of her tricks to keep from killing and eating straight from the source. She tries to avoid it by staying away from temptation. Over the years she has become a rather good artist though she has never gained a strong bond with anyone to show her work. So she has several large notebooks just filled with random drawings.

Physical Description: Standing at 5'4" with a lean frame and small build, August is hardly at an intimidating stature. The woman was lacking in muscular structure and although she was mostly free of fat aside from a few pounds picked up from a sedentary lifestyle, August would also seem to have a very fragile form. However, she was free of any other issues and seemed to be mostly healthy. Soft, pale skin was mostly unblemished aside from a series of notable scars on her left arm reminiscent of deep animal bites and a crescent shaped scar on her stomach left behind by what was possibly a knife or blade. The scar on her stomach was also accompanied by a small tattoo right next to it, sitting on the edge of the moon like shape.The tattoo depicted a bird attempting to fly, made in black ink and left without details aside from the shackles around it's legs.

Her hair was a barely tamed mess of dark, twisted, and braided dreadlocks, shook loose and hanging free most of the time. The strands ended just below her shoulders, nearly reaching to her chest. Although nappy in appearance, the overall condition of the hair is far above average and it seems that it is obviously well taken care off; August not only takes great pride in her hair but assigns personal grooming great importance in her life.

Bright green eyes scanned their surroundings constantly, absorbing almost every detail possible in a scrutinizing fashion. However, they searched as if there was something specific being looked for. It seems that this frantic observation of surroundings never ceased unless the woman's eyes were closed.

A single golden ring ran through a the septum of a nose that was slightly upturned at the end, the metal resting just above lips that bear the slightest hint of pout. A stud went through either ear, metallic ends flared with jade green orbs displayed on each side. Another stud with the same green orbs went through her tongue.

One of the most interesting and more disturbing sights on the woman's body was the series of injection sights along both of her arms, known as 'track marks'. She was obviously injecting things into her arms on a regular basis.

Psychological Profile: August kept a mostly calm and quiet demeanor with the constant scrutinization of her surroundings being the only hint at her inner thought process to the casual observer. Those who might spend some time with her however would find a very unique individual with a very creative imagination. Still, those who truly got to know this woman would soon discover that beneath the purposeful facade was a crushed spirit.

The woman's mind was wracked with paranoia. To her, everyone else in the world is a threat in some way. Every stranger on the street had something to hide even if they weren't guilty of intentional harm. She was slow to trust and even slower to make friends, considering she kept to herself as much as possible.

Her feelings toward most people could even be viewed as malicious. She took some joy in watching others suffer, to a certain extent anyway. August wasn't a complete psychopath, she wouldn't even go out of the way to harm another person unless she had to. In fact, if there was a situation where someone was in danger, she might even feel the desire to help in what ever way she could.

August saw a certain balance in things. She didn't feel the need to do good or have the desire to cause havoc in order to get what she wanted. August desired some semblance of a normal life much like the same members of society she despised. This desire gave her a sense of justice concerning the grand scheme of things and the need for order in the world.

August tried to be humble, not putting herself above others and not thinking herself better than anyone else. This probably came from her poverty filled past, making her realize that how much you have doesn't matter in the end. This also made her feel some worthlessness however. She felt like she would always be struggling and that she was never in control.

Background: As long as anyone can remember there has always been tales of women with mystical powers and otherworldy gifts. In some cultures they were respected and perhaps even revered. In others they were seen as monsters, demons, or some other evil being disguised as human. Most know their kind as witches though few actually believe in them in this day and age.

Not every story is a myth, however. There are some tales that are so old and widespread that they are muddled with false information and romanticised. The truth is buried behind lore and legend, made into folktale after years of retelling. One such story would be about the Witch of The Black Forest.

The story goes that a witch has inhabited the Black Forest of Germany for centuries, long before the area was under the control of any civilization. When the first settlers of the region arrived, strange things occured. People would go missing on hunting trips or simply disappear from the local villages in the middle of the night. Some claim that they would hear the screams of children from behind the treeline though few dared to investigate.

As the years went on the locals became more desperate to fine answers. Search parties and groups of adventurers organized to explore the forest and search for either the missing people or the thing that caused the disappearances. None of these people returned except for one, a young merchant named Hans who went with others to hopefully find his sister who had gone missing the year before.

Hans explained that the forest was home to a beautiful woman who had a cabin hidden deep within the trees. He said that she was everything that a man could desire and more. Yet, the party he was with soon found that she wasn't Human. The beast hid behind the skin of a woman and when confronted by the party, she morphed into a monsterous form and killed everyone.

Ever since then most people decided that it was best to ignore the information that Hans brought back. If they believed it, they thought that hunting the monster wasn't worth the trouble even if more people would disappear. As time went on some were brave enough to venture into the forest and search for the mysterious being though the disappearances slowed to a halt and the strange occurences came to an end.

It wasn't until many years later that these things began to occur again. Although the original events had ceased to become common knowlege, there were a few who remembered tales that their great grand parents told of the demon. After the new disappearences went on for some time it seemed that the story would repeat itself. Hunters began scouring the forest for the source of this chaos, only to disappear without a trace as well.

Another man would return, however. Like Hans many years ago, he described a woman who changed shape and slaughtered those he had accompanied into the forest. He had added some new information too. This man said that the beast could not only become Human but she also could turn into animals as well. He warned that she could be watching at any time.

This pattern repeated itself over and over, eventually coming to an end in the late 1800's and leaving only stories behind. What was the truth, however?

Well there was a woman who lived in the Black Forest in the very beginning. Unlike the one from the story, she simply kept to herself and wandered the forest. There was something different about her though. This woman could shapeshift, changing into the animals of the forest and living amongst them. Some people spotted the woman moving through the forest as they traveled or hunted and some even saw her shift into other forms. Thus began the story of the Witch of The Black Forest.

Of course she wasn't immortal. Although she was gifted with strange powers, how did the tales last so long and repeat themselves? The men who had returned with information to their villages were to blame, in a way. When they sought out the witch they did indeed find a beautiful woman. Sometimes they were vile men who succumbed to the darkness in their minds, damning the others in their group when the witch shifted and defended herself, killing many before being defeated by the lone survivor. Others found a woman who was beautiful and charming, a woman who welcomed their company.

Regardless, each man returned as an unknowing father. The mother being the infamous witch and the child would carry on the tradition. This is how the story continued and why it seemed that there was a long lived witch in the forest. The part about those going missing and children's screams? Just another detail added in to spice things up.

Although the witches of the stories are long dead, their bloodline still remains in the world today and that is the reason some are born with strange powers that are unexplainable in the modern world. At least, that's what August's mother told her.

August was raised by a single mother in the thick of New York in an apartment building that was falling apart and had little room. To keep up with bills, keep a roof over their head, and make sure they were well fed, August's mother did every scrap of work that she could. At the end of the day the only thing that gave her a sense of comfort was telling her daughter about the stories of the women of their family and why they held such an 'important' gift.

This gift held no signifigance in this day and age however. Despite being born with something that some would worship in ancient times, it was more of a liability at this time. August learned early on that she should always try to hide this power because it would only lead to bad things. She even considered it a curse for much of her life.

The fact that she had this ability but it came of no real use caused conflict in her mind. She and her mother were poverty stricken and poor, sometimes not even able to eat for days at a time when there was no work to be found. Though were supposed to be important people though, or so she thought. In the end it made no sense to her.

During August's childhood she had very few friends. Occasionally she found someone who she had gotten close to but when August tried to share her deepest secret... her ability to shift into animals, they thought she was crazy or were scared off when she showed them. Luckily, nobody believed a child who said that they saw their friend turn into a wolf.

A lack of friendship and companionship made August feel alienated for much of her life. She began to distrust others and after a certain point she started to purposely seperate herself from those around her. The only person who remained with her was her mother, who was almost always working.

By the time August was in highschool she started using drugs to ease the pain of living in squalor and watching her mother suffer to provide. When August finally graduated her mother killed herself. Left on her own for the first time, August tried many different jobs in an attempt to find something that could help her live without struggle and enjoy herself. Instead she found that selling her body was much easier and brought much more profit.

This only further pushed August from society and nudged her onto a darker path. Not only was she in a direction that she didn't want to go but she also thought it was far too late to turn back.

Recent History: August still lives in New York in a small apartment at the lower side of Manhatten. Although she finds her powers to be mostly useless at this point in time, she can't help but shifting into an animal and exploring the city as a mouse or a bird. She finds the thrill to be an exciting part of her life and it helps give her some perspective.

Most of the day she is asleep however. August's element is the night when she is truly alive. After the sun sets her work begins. The first needle of the night is followed by the first man and this goes on until the day breaks when she says goodbye to that lifestyle and lets the boredom consume her until she decides to shift again, stalking the alleyways with a pack of wild dogs or flying above skyscrapers with the birds.

She can't help but feel that there is much more to life however. She wants more and she doesn't know how to get it. Worse, she doesn't know how to escape what she is already in. If she stops working, she won't be able to afford her apartment. She could find a real job but even then she knows it won't be enough without help. Most of all, she's afraid of becoming her mother... slaving away until she can't take it anymore.

The thought of her ancestors haunts her every day. People with this gift were infamous, well known for their existince. Yet here August was just living night by night in hopes of eventually finding something better.

Maybe she'll find it soon enough.