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The Basics
Name:
Age:
Gender:

On-Hand
Daily clothing:
Weapon:
Equipment:
Extra clothing:

Companions

Biography [Please Be Detailed.]

The Basics
Name: Elizabeth "Liz" Christine Willow
Age: 10
Gender: Female

On-Hand
Daily clothing: A Black Sweater Dress, a pair of white stockings, a pair of Black Combat Boots, and a Golden Cross Necklace.
Weapon: Tomahawk and a Combat Knife.
Equipment: A Beige Satchel containing four water bottles, a pack of boxed juices, several boxes of raisins, extra clothing, and some apples, a Water Canteen, and a Leather Fanny Pack containing several gold coins, a rabbit's foot, a mini Bible, and a pocket watch.
Extra clothing: A Floral Dress, a Brown Sweater, and a pair of dark blue jeans.

Companions
Zinx, a four year old cat with the ability to speak English.

Biography
Elizabeth was born fourteen years after her brother, Johnathon Hunter Willow, to Annalise and Eliot Willow. At the time of Elizabeth's birth, Annalise was thirty-two years old and Eliot was thirty-eight. The couple had been shunned in the small town where they resided not only for their six year age difference, but also for the fact that Annalise had given birth after the age of thirty, which was breaking tradition in the community. The Willow family was a reserved one, never attending any town events, never responding to visiting neighbors, and never seeming to come out of their home.

The reality that most were not aware of was that Eliot was a high leader for a Demon Hunting division in their quaint, quiet little town. Missing persons reports, suicides, and homicides without suspects began increasing at a large rate for the past ten years before Elizabeth was born. Eliot was called down to inspect and investigate. And when Elizabeth was barely three years old, her father left one evening and never returned.

Overcome with grief, Annalise spent the next four years traveling away from home to search for her husband, leaving Elizabeth to be cared for by Johnathon. Being seventeen at the time the responsibility of caring for a toddler was dumped on him, Johnathon was neither a good brother nor guardian. It was during her time alone that Elizabeth learned to care and fend for herself. Soon, it became apparent that she would follow in her father's footsteps.

When Elizabeth was just seven years old, she left her home and her brother behind, knowing that he would never miss her. Within the first six months, Elizabeth was almost murdered. She was small and virtually strength-less, and a sleek, black wolf much larger than the average mini-van leaped upon her, teeth bared, snarling, out to kill, and specifically, out to kill her. Had it not been for Mason Timothy, a wandering hunter who happened to have been a very good friend of Eliot's, Elizabeth would have been dinner.

Mason took Elizabeth in. He had no home of his own; he was a traveling hunter. Though he didn't have much to offer, he did give her the equipment, weapons, and gear she carried around today. He helped her to learn to use the weapons he had gifted her. He taught her to survive. He taught her to hunt. And before long, Elizabeth's eyes were much older than her body. She'd had more personal experiences with murder, death, and tragedy than any other average ten year old. And just as she'd begun growing fond of jolly, cheerful Mason Timothy, he vanished. Just like her father.

Now, Elizabeth wanders. Some part of her hopes that maybe, just maybe, she will come across her father or her mother. Another part of her hopes that she never does.

Name: Evander Eihort
Age: 41
Gender: Male

On-Hand
Daily clothing: A cloth and hard leather vest & pants, with many, many hidden pockets and sheathes. Two steel bracers, one reinforced with several layers of hard leather.

Weapon(s): Anything and everything. Eihort is an improvisational weapons specialist. But he often carries around his own assortment of nasties just in case. This includes custom bows and crossbows, S.A.P gloves, knives, javelins, explosives, blackjacks, microfilament wire, throwing axes, bolas, slingshots, ect. He transports his equipment in two very large duffel bags. What, no guns? Too noisy.

Equipment: A great deal of hidden compartments and pockets, field rations, typical traveling junk.

Extra clothing: Several different camouflage outfits

Companions: A highly trained dalmatian.

Biography: Eihort grew up in a small, seaside town. His old man was a well-known adventurer and all around expert sailor, and the young boy wanted nothing more than to grow up just like his dad. At this point, one might guess that his father would have died or some other traumatic thing might have happened. Well how about no, you smelly ape. Eihort's parents are both alive and well, and as luck would have it Eihort found out he suffered too much from seasickness to be a sailor. In fact, luck wouldn't have anything to do with him. Whether it is by his own machinations or if he was just born under a bad sign, Eihort for some reason has always had rotten luck. Board games? Gambling? Coin flipping? It was almost supernatural how he always managed to lose.

At any rate, he spent some time as a guerilla in Nam. As bad as his luck was, his gift for combat proved vastly superior. Through the bad and the worse, he earned a fearsome reputation among the Cong for his ice-cold sniping skills, devious traps, and killer intellect. Before he had returned to the States, Eihort had learned every dirty trick in the book and then some. He spent many years honing his skills and picking up women, and let me tell you hombre, he sucked at picking up women. He lives now as a freelance mercenary, doing odd jobs to make a living. Apparently, he fancies himself a demon hunter at the moment.