2) Yep! Turns them into a pile of ash.

OH.
So stake is a no-save no-anything complete death.
Can it be now explicitly noted that Kreslav used his fleshwarping powers to transfer his heart much deeper into his frame and now hides it in an armored shell deep within his bowels, which are further armoured by a wide metal girdle?

Wermacht Personnel File: Kramer, Reinhard
Serial Number: WM-881-3792-NZ
Race: Aryan German (Undead)
Age: 45 (At Death)

Last Rank Held: Generalmajor (U.S. Military Equivalent Rank: Brigadier General) – KIA
Former Assignments:
Generalmajor, 7th Infantry Division, Army Group Vistula – 24 Jan 1945 to 11 June 1945
Generalmajor, 7th Infantry Division, Army Group B – 17 Feb 1944 to 22 Jan 1945
Oberst (Colonel), 7th Infantry Division, 3rd Brigade, Army Group B – 5 Nov 1943 to 12 Feb 1944
Oberst (Colonel), 7th Infantry Division, 2nd Regiment, Army Group B – 1 Jan 1943 to 26 Oct 1943
Oberstleutnant (Lt. Colonel), 7th Infantry Division, 4th Brigade, Army Group B – 12 Apr 1941 to 5 Dec 1942
Oberstleutnant (Lt. Colonel), 7th Infantry Division, 4th Brigade, Army Group B – 7 May 1940 to 3 Apr 1941
Major Oberstabsarzt (Major), 7th Infantry Division, 3rd Brigade, Army Group B – 1 Aug 1939 to 1 Mar 1940

Birthplace: Central Konigsberg, German Empire, 1900
Parents: Otto Kramer and Heidi Kramer

Nickname: Summoner of the Black Sun

Appearance:

From what old pictures and documents can tell, Reinhard Kramer was a dashing Prussian military man, tall, strapping, the perfection of the Aryan ideology. He sported a mustache, flaunting the regulations with its length and bulk, something his commanders and superiors allowed due to his innate command and leadership abilities. He wore his hair close cropped, parted over like much of the German powers that be at the time. No known scars, but was said to have three distinct tattoos, a depiction of Cthulhu on his right bicep, a Black Sun upon his left breast, and a Black Eagle on his back.
At the conclusion of the battle of Berlin, his body still has yet to be found. Unconfirmed reports have circulated that somehow Reinhard survived the battle, and is now among the undead. Such speculation has yet to be confirmed conclusively.
Sex - Male
Height – 6'2”
Weight – 215
Hair Color – Blonde/Brown
Eye Color – Blue Brown

Personality: A driven man, Reinhard is wholly devoted to his country, and the ideal of the German Occult that had been embedded in him. He was charming, intelligent, and calculating. He enjoyed the social life and other societal things of the Third Riech, and more specifically, the Black Sun Society. Said to be a womanizer, though not necessarily in a bad way, he made sure to have plenty of attractive women by his side, for pleasures of the flesh were too good to pass up. The joke was “Born in sin, come on in.” Yet, as the war dragged on, and things went worse and worse, he became darker, more sullen. Perhaps that was the general consensus of all those is Germany as it began to lose the war.

Before Berlin's fall, Reinhard was said to have a different air about him, as though he was no longer afraid of death. Given his current state of being, it can be seen why.

Bio: Driven from youth to serve in the military, Reinhard enlisted in the Imperial German army at 16, lying about his true age. From that day, his life was set on a course that would forever mold him into the man he became at the time of his supposed death. Fighting in some of the fiercest battles of WW1, Reinhard came to enjoy war, the conflict and gritty nature of it all. He would come to befriend interesting people in that time, and the years that would come afterword. The dread Totenkopf Science division, many of whom are still missing to this day. This run in with the powerful occult members would forever influence Reinhard. By 1930, Reinhard had become firmly embedded in both the military, and the ranks of the the Black Sun Society, sometimes known as the Thule society. He served as a prominent member of the group, learning all he could about the occult, and the foul magics that they practiced. By the outbreak of WW2, dark secrets swirled about Reinhard and his actions throughout the war.

What can be verifiably confirmed was that he served in the 7th Infantry Division, and that he worked closely with attached medical and Black Sun personnel. Reports from captured German soldiers, and escaped prisoners, was that large numbers of Untermensch that would never be seen again from the territories captured. Debriefings ranged from unknown sounds, the stench of death and decay, of sulfur and strange lights, unknown languages be spoken, and the feeling of something perversely wrong. Mass graves have been attributed to Reinhard and his selected few units, but these graves are nothing but ash, with lingering signs of dark magic, and the chocking stench of sulfur.

Last confirmed reports placed Reinhard at the final, fanatical defense of Berlin at wars end. Part of Army Group Vistula, he was central to the defense of Berlin. He was said to be at a command bunker, when it was overrun by Soviet troops. The amount of bodies in that area, coupled with the area being buried by rubble by carpet bombings, no confirmation of his death could be proven. Later excavations revealed a tunnel system beneath the command center and city, but, these too were collapsed, and could not be explored. What happened to General Reinhard Kramer remained a mystery to this day.

Till now. The Black Sun Society is not so easily killed. He came across the sea aboard Black Sun loyal U-boats, along with God only knew what else. The Nyctari family had some ethnic Germans within their ranks, and among them were those interested in the skills and abilities Reinhard had to offer. The German Officer is said to have the ability to raise the dead, and more. For now, he works out of a safe house, making using of the dregs of society to continue his dark and grisly work, for the Black Sun still burns brightly, and its favored son revels in the decadence of Santa Somabra.

Gonna work on that first post. Have a starting point at least.

Edit: I'm not sure if I should keep the werewolf part. Thoughts?

Name/Nicknames: Inspector Patrick Braden O'Malley, "Pate" by friends.

Race:Werewolf

Age: 28
Appearance:Patrick is a shorter-than-average, deceptively-wimpy-looking man. He has a rather round, childish face which seems unable to grow anything that is more than a ginger peach fuzz. His head is crowned with mops of curly, fiery ginger hair. He has a slightly flat nose, and his light skin is full of freckles underneath the eyes, which are green and possess a keen gaze. Clothes do not flatter him in the slightlest, as they all look a size too big, specially when wearing his police uniform. Beneath the clothes, however, Patrick's body tells a story of fighting and survival, with wiry but insanely toned muscles, and a mishmash of bullet wounds and scars.

Just like his human self, his werewolf appearance looks slightly smaller than the average, with auburn fur and green eyes.

Personality:An usually meek and submissive person, Patrick more than often wanders around listening to people's requests, and apologizing a lot. He really puts the needs of his peers before his own, and sometimes he can be considered too optimistic and naïve for the city that is Santa Somabra. O'Malley also takes blows and insults in stride, and mockery just makes him shake his head and mutter if there's any kind of truth in it. He's also positively flustered and awkward in presence of comely women aswell.

It all changes when he dons the uniform or has a duty to fulfill. His gaze sharpens, and his demeanor becomes much more assertive. He follows a strict moral compass, and rarely deviates from it. Utterly fearless and uncaring of trudging into dens of vice, he strives to bring the law to the city even in their bleakest crevices, and even though their superiors and peers might be corrupt. He's only really willing to bend the rules only when innocent or peer lives are at stake. Despite his uncompromising attitude, he would rather intimidate opponents rather than fight.

O'Malley has feelings of doubt and regret, though. He find increasingly baffled by the state of the city and the world at large, and at times wonders if the time of dutiful, honorable people is long past. Two wars and cemeteries full of them can attest. But even so, he refuses to give up. Because if he does, crooks will win. He longs for a peaceful world where he can have a family.

Bio: O'Malley was born in the Narrows, to a couple of down-their luck Irish migrants. Even though they were caring people, they could do little to shield the kid from the horrors of the underbelly of Santa Somabra. It was perhaps that due to this fact, O'Malley grew to appreciate gentleness and good behaviour like water on a desert, and dreamed that one day, he would make the place safe. His distinctive "take no crap" attitude earned him a few beatdowns, but also a few friends, specially at the ill-fitted school that was run by the poor in the districto. Two also became his best friends, Alma, an orphaned girl, and Donnie, or Donovan, son of a gambling addict. Life was harsh, but they weren't alone in this. They had eachother, and they could rely on eachother. Of course there was also this epic fight as teenagers, on who would eventually marry Alma. Donovan won that time.

However, things would change soon. The war had erupted around them, and both joined as recruits. Despite the risk of dying, they saw serving in the army as the golden chance to get out of the Narrows and the crime that permeated everything.

The beaches of Normandy woke them up from their hubris, with the blood of friends staining the sands red. But it couldn't be helped. They gritted their teeth, and braved through the hell on earth that was war. Each night, they'd tell eachother to hold on. Alma was waiting back there at Santa Somabra.

Until the day the germans struck at The Ardennes. With the ferocity of a wounded beast, they encircled everyone. They pulled all of their stops. Even the things that had been kept in the dark until now. Forbidden rituals, Black magic. Half his company became engulfed in a portal straight to Hell, or whatever it seemed to. An otherwordly place.

Donovan was one of them. Or rather, half of Donovan went through the portal.

O'Malley snapped. Grabbing all the ammunition and grenades he had at hand, he sprinted like a madman and jumped inside the portal, in act that defied all terror and sanity. Inside, he wasted no time in firing at everything that wasn't sporting his uniform colors and that moved. He was positively screaming like a madman all the time, until all his grenades were spent and his rifle clicked after reloading it several times. It was then when he grabbed the upper part of a moribund Donovan, and exited the portal dragging the remains of his bisected friend.

For leaping inside a portal and holding off the demonic forces for several minutes in order to rescue 22 people, O'Malley was hailed as a hero. But that would not bring his best friend back from the grave. Wracked by guilt upon his return, he avoided going into Santa Somabra. How could he face Alma after seeing their best friend die? He deluded himself in making a career in the army, in order to get enough rank and importance to yank the Narrows out of their poverty. It took the Korean War to see it all fruitless and pointless, seeing the boys who were entrusted under his care keep dying, only to be replaced. All for a tug-of-war between unrelated countries. He was sick of both the callousness of it all and his own self.

And, thus, after the war ended, decided to stop being roundabout about it and joined the dilapidated force, returning to the Narrows as he always wished to. But Alma was nowhere to be found. He had paid his price for his hesitation, as he grimly reminded. His duty never faltered. He refused to be bribed, he refused to be cowed. And for a while, it seemed that crooks were losing ground against his one-man-effort. Until an ambush from a corrupt cop and hired muscle from the Hanged Men left him broken and battered in the outskirts, for the Hunters to devour him.

It was then when she found Alma. She was one of them, a werewolf. He couldn't take it anymore. He laughed until he coughed blood, as the wolves circled him. This was the punishment for his sin of inaction, he felt it. But that didn't mean he would stay still and take it. With the last of his strength, as his neck was ravaged by a wolf, he, in a last act of defiance... bit back, ripping a chunk of his ear.

The werewolf was positively STUNNED. And Alma, who was now a pack leader, found the little event amusing. She spared O'Malley, in order for him to become a werewolf. As she gauged right, a war hero would make a powerful beast. But she did not take in account one thing.

O'Malley takes no shit from crooks. Even as a werewolf, he refused to join the Hunters, and devoted himself to rein and control his new condition... and do what he always had done. Clean the trash and fight bad guys.

Other: He has still mixed feelings for Alma.

@Abefroeman @AtomicNut Both accepted. Feel free to put them in the CS tab

@Kingfisher

Delayed, and edited, but here we are.

Name/Nicknames:
Fimion ‘Fix’ Maakvulling

Race:
Gnoll

Age:
24

Appearance:
Fix to a human looks like most Gnolls, a cross somewhere between human and hyena with little to particularly distinguish one from another. That being said Fix would wholly disagree, to him and other Gnolls he is almost regal in the nature of his handsome features despite the grime and dirt which often accumulates – others of his species are constantly covered in far worse and usually combined with scabs, scars and other unsightly marks. He considers his lack of scarring a mark of his cunning and skill, so holds his physical appearance in quite high regard. His build like most Gnolls features a relatively short but well-built torso augmented with powerful hind quarters, which again despite what might initially look a rather small build carries surprising weight and crushing power due to the weight and strength of his bones and powerful muscles.

His eyes gleam with a savage cunning and feral intelligence, which combined with his heterochromia (two different coloured irises, one orange the other a sickly shade of green) serves to give the Gnoll a rather sinister glare. His fur is a light grayish brown with an almost dark silver tint along what could be called his mane, again considered very attractive to other Gnolls. His teeth are large and savage, his canines and molars being able to crush through bone and fleshy substances with much ease as well as a great many other substances.

Fix has concealed under his fur the marks of an occasional Runez user, though his deep fur covers these at his current level of use. The other many drugs he indulges in are somewhat less scaring to his physical appearance, again due to the hardy constitution of his race and a great deal of use balanced with a healthy dose of restraint when it comes to crossing the line from use to abuse.

Fix dresses again a great deal better than any other Gnoll, but still quite removed from the imitation of humanity he is mirroring. A sharp but battered Stetson usually sits atop his brow with his lower body covered in what remains of a once fine suit, shirt and suspenders – now covered of course in a liberal helping of grit, grime and filth as well as blood.

Personality:
Fix is driven by his need for greed, seeking wealth, power, prestige and practically anything else he can sink his sharp claws into. He dislikes most other Gnolls, seeing that they generally act like idiotic vermin and can’t be trusted further than their own short-sighted self-interests. That being said some individuals can prove themselves to him, but prove themselves they must. He wouldn't let his beliefs ever interfere with a business transaction or potential powerful ally, far from it even, constantly trying to convince other Gnolls to act less like themselves and more like he does, though the majority of his more savagely minded brethren take great offense to this.

Fix is also, surprisingly, driven by a great love of all things narcotic and mind altering, be they drugs, drink, smoke or anything else considered bad and indulgent. Even for a Gnoll his tolerance is high, again he has had much practise through his youth and seems to be genetically pre-disposed to agree with such things and suffer less of the negative effects that others might, though again take his fixes away from him and a sober Fix will quickly degenerate into a nasty savage and downright bad tempered mood, followed by rage and a reversion to his more primal and animalistic nature. Something he of course does everything within his power to avoid.

Always a comedian, like other Gnolls his sense of humour is…unique. Easy to entertain, hard to shut up, some people seem to take to him, others definitely not so much. He is as likely to be making a bad joke as much as he is to be making a real threat, again it’s not easy for others to place a finger on his exact temperament at any given time due to his nature. His nature depends a great deal on how useful you are, what he thinks of your temperament and appearance and how funny you are.

Bio:
Born just outside of Santa Somabra as one of a litter of eight, like most Gnolls his childhood was a frantic scrabble to just survive and avoid becoming the runt of the litter. Fast to mature he and his siblings soon joined with the family pack and learnt how the world treated them, though he seemed a whole sight smarter than any of his brothers or sisters it took quite a while before he was able to capitalize on such things and break out from the pack without abandoning them outright. Making his way into The Narrows to work he quickly established that he absolutely loved narcotics, though lacking the cold hard cash he needed to buy what he wanted he set about creating an income for himself and become one of the innumerable petty dealers that loitered endlessly, being supplied some of the lowest quality gear available from his Gnollish elders. It soon became clear to him that no one actually wanted the shit he was selling, and to rise above the rest he would need to up the quality of his merchandise, finding a few Gnolls that too realised they were cutting themselves out of a lucrative market by being notoriously untrustworthy and selling only the cheapest lowest level stuff. Unfortunately when he tried to explain this to his siblings and the other Gnolls, they disagreed and saw no need for any such changes. Feigning submission to avoid a beating he and others slipped away in the night to move permanently into The Narrows and they started acting less like Gnolls and more like the wealthier races they seek to emulate.

Starting off small-time and working towards bigger and better things, if you need drugs and supplies he is one of the many sources available having worked with several of the many gangs that comprise the Rats, occasionally the Italians and even rarely The Chinatown Tong. He has tried but been unable to make contacts within the The Nyctari family, who have snubbed or flat out ignored the enterprising Gnoll and his little ragtag group of Gnollish ‘scientists’ and runners.

At the street level the best way to get in touch with him is to pass a message to one of his Gnollish dealers that lurks in The Narrows. Fix however is all too aware that with the prestige and wealth he desires he walks a fine line between stepping on toes and pulling a bullseye directly over his back, something he is smart enough to avoid at all costs, seeing how the other races treat him and his Gnolls. He also works with the less sophisticated of Gnolls where possible, again trying to bridge the gap between their savagery and the rest of Santa Somabra for his own gains whilst rewarding them as much as can be afforded and avoiding drawing in the ire of the petty gangs they comprise. Drawing a small group of the more enterprising of his kinsmen together they own a warehouse on the edge of The Narrows which they guard fiercely and use as a storehouse and drug processing den as well as living quarters, their closest guarded secret.

@Tsar Gatto Its good to have you back, Gatto. Fix is accepted!

Promised a post earlier, got it mostly written (had to take in 'inspirational material' aka the Simpsons) and then had a migraine today, so I'm a bit behind the eight ball. Sorry.

Promised a post earlier, got it mostly written (had to take in 'inspirational material' aka the Simpsons) and then had a migraine today, so I'm a bit behind the eight ball. Sorry.

Hope you get to feeling better soon. And I'm looking forward to your post!

Promised a post earlier, got it mostly written (had to take in 'inspirational material' aka the Simpsons) and then had a migraine today, so I'm a bit behind the eight ball. Sorry.

No need to apologise. Migraines are a bitch. Hope things clear up a bit soon!

@KingfisherSorry but I think I won't be making a character for this RP ^^;

Good luck tho to everyone else, this is quite the setting for an RP ^3^

Post is posted! Feels goood to get going, much excitement for how everything may come together!

Gonna have to quit even before starting. Shit happened again IRL and i've got to cut off the easiest branches.

S-s-s-so, how would Luff react to someone awaiting him at his home with an offer that is very hard to refuse? If in a way that is at least somehow different from immediately proceeding to murder then i'll write a post.

Is this a job for him as a fixer? Then he'd probably respond with irritation and a higher-than-usual rate. If it's a job for him as an information broker, he would be very unhappy indeed because no one knows who the Anansi is at the present time. I'm about to introduce a secondary character, a Hand of Anansi, if you will. If you're wanting to contract a job with the information broker, you would definitely be able to go through her. Feel free to pm me if you want to coordinate something

@KingfisherSorry but I think I won't be making a character for this RP ^^;

Good luck tho to everyone else, this is quite the setting for an RP ^3^

Gonna have to quit even before starting. Shit happened again IRL and i've got to cut off the easiest branches.

Sorry to hear that guys :/ Hope I see you about the guild!

@stmoore23

Would it be inappropriate for 'word on the street' for him (Anansi) to be tied to 'an Ogre working previously with the Rats' - if so I'll edit that part too. Not sure how separate Luff was from that side of things when I wrote my post.

Edit: typo in the first line of my first post. Great start. Oh well, shh… none of you saw it.

Great question! Thanks for checking. I think it's totally fine that Anansi is known to be an ogre, especially because Luff is not really ogre-sized in the traditional sense. In my next post, which will be up after work, I'm going to have the newly introduced Hand of Anansi reach out to Fix. If you want to collab on how that conversation would go I'm definitely down!

Cool cool. Definitely works for me. I admit I'm familiar with the concept and assume it'll be no problem, but I've never actually collaborated on a post before.

But yeah I too am at work for the next 4-5hrs (not that it prevents me from writing or posting, just between my supposed obligations - which is in fact when I do the majority of my posting) but definitely will respond to any PMs asap when able. After that will be home and free as a bird.

Definitely looking forwards to more posts. Great characters, even better writing - from everyone so far. Glad I hopped aboard the Santa Somabra train again :D anyone else interested in any dealings with Fix or crew at this initial stage likewise let me know either here or PM.

Gonna start working on my next post soonish, was wondering if anyone had input? Was thinking about having McDonough "put on a show" for potential employers, i.e rob a bank or steal something valuable, do something that will get the attention of possible employers and make McDonough's services worth buying.