Name: Ralf Dangerfield

Age: 32

Ethnicity/Race: Caucasian-something.

Supernatural properties: Rocks facial hair too powerful for its own good.

Appearance:


This image is a good place to start. He's a fair bit younger, his hair is still black, and his mustache isn't nearly that extreme, (Same shape and style, but it's shorter and doesn't go off of his face) but the resemblance is impeccable otherwise. Oh, and he's got the kind of facial scars on his left cheek that ladies don't like. The kind that make people look at you funny rather than think you're a ruggedly handsome indvidual. It consist of five "Claws", the two middle ones formed a big gash, giving him a wide and almost rippled spike of skin down to the corner of his mouth. A smaller, "Index" claw created a slightly shorter gash that ended in a point as it got caught on bone, luckily just before it could harm his mustache follicles. The pinky had a brief but memorable trip down his jawline, and on the other side, a little mark on the opposite side of his jaw where a thumb or bottom talon dug itself in as best it could. Each gash ends in a widened bit just above where it tapered off, as the appendage that dug into him was yanked up and down before finally getting wrenched out of his face.

Ralf is 5'10 feet tall and built like a boxer. Not particularly big or defined, but bulky enough to show that he's no layman, even in relatively loose clothing. On the rest of his skin, he sports the occassional slashmark similar to the one on his face. Sometimes bite scars as well. He typically wears leathery stuff, hardened trench coats, armored motorbike equipment and the like, to have some semblance of protection without drawing police attention. He has a beat up, wide-brimmed leather hat that fits low on his head, and he can tie it down under his chin. It just so happens to be padded and its interior lined with harder leather so that it functions as a helmet incognito, though he also wears his equally beat-up motorcycle helmet in less formal situations.

Funnily enough, his padded jacket, in addition to spiky plated shoulders, has the faded patch of a now defunct biker gang on its back... Mildly appropriate to his current career.



Personality: Ralf is blunt, calculating, and dry-humored. While austere in manner, he’s actually a rather amicable and outgoing person, but the nature of his business often has him wearing a solemn expression. When he drinks, he drinks bitter stuff, when he eats, he puts hot sauce on it. He's developed a taste for things that make him feel wide-eyed and alert... Though he'll usually dine on water and lighter vegetarian fare if he's been long on somebody's trail to avoid being smelled, because he's dedicated and meticulous like that.

He’s not the kind to get loudly or violently angry. He tends to go inward with things that stress him out, and his anger is usually slow-burning and seething. He experiences most of his emotions internally, and that builds up quite a bit. He meditates often to clear his head.

History: Ralf was born into a family of five in a hospital of Reno Nevada. The Dangerfield family happened to produce a particularly long line of members of a certain "Extralegal" neighborhood biker gang. They grew and sold various strains of illegal plants and sold them around certain areas of the small town they lived in, but all was not well, nor was it safe for the happy little family. Ralf lived a hard life, getting into fights with other kids, and even adults over territory disputes. He had been in and out of Juvvie twice, and things only got worse, until they peaked. An inner-city gang, a White Supremacist group whose name he doesn't care to remember, decided it needed more territory to sell its product at. Real violence broke out then. It was the first time Ralf had ever shot anyone, and the first time he'd ever been tried as an adult. He was acquitted, as it was in self defense, but the judge did manage to give him a few months of rehabilitation on unrelated charges. This was where he met a certain probation officer named Rob Quiang.

Rob and Ralf became good friends, and after a brief analysis of Ralf's particular set of skills, Rob was very forward in letting Ralf in on a bizarre secret. Rob was an older fellow with a very specific nightjob. Ralf never quite found out why he did what he did, he kept changing the story on him, but he was damned good at it. Rob also had a very interesting idea of rehabilitation. Using the meditative properties of Kung Fu and... Western Boxing practices, he aimed to exhaust some of Ralf’s deep-seated anger and strife, and focus his energy into more constructive pursuits. One of which included Jiangshi Hunting. The rest, they say, is history.

The two had killed their share of vampires, Chinese and otherwise, but if there was one thing Rob really drilled into him, it was the simple Taoist principle that not everything that isn’t human is evil. The undead and otherwise have just as much of a right to be around as anyone else, and the role of a monster hunter was to hunt monsters, not people. One such monster ended up killing Rob somewhere near the end of his training, and it gave him quite a memorable slap across the face. The local news got right on this, especially after Rob called the local man-eating bear they’d been having problems with “A were-beast” and vowed to take revenge. There’s no documentation showing he ever did, but some strange, charred bones were found in the woods. This is widely believed to be a local hoax, similar to the Hodag of Wisconsin.

He’s gone through several probation programs to clear up his record and slip a little further off the grid each time. Currently, he’s working his way cross-country and taking therapy to “work through his problems”, whatever that means.

Weapons:

A large 4-slug revolving “Bear” pistol, and a long-range Elephant Gun. It’s always been his tried and true philosophy to go into a supernatural investigation with big guns like these when coming into contact with corporeal creatures. After all, it hardly matter whether bullets kill it or not, a solid animal does not simply keep charging after getting shot with a stopping gun. These can be fitted with silver slugs if overkill is really needed that badly, but for the most part, these are meant to knock back/temporarily maim marks that he hasn’t analyzed yet.
A scoped hunting rifle with a custom suppressor. This is what fires his silver bullets. The suppressor does not cancel out the noise, but it does make the gun sound farther away than it is, and makes it harder to tell where the shots are coming from without finding the bullets.

A large, almost shortsword-like Bowie Knife with a cross engraved on each side and a silver-treated blade. A good all-around last resort weapon, usually hidden in his jacket.

He has an airtight container ring full of wolfsbane powder, usually worn on his right hand. This stuff seriously harms werethings, but it also seriously harms humans, so he rarely uses it except to renew his “Immunity dose”.

A big crossbow for firing sharp sticks. He has them in two flavors, regular wood (for regular vampires!) and peach tree wood (for Chinese Vampires)

Lots of jars of garlic, salt, and rosemary. (Including hot sauce, especially those that contain all three.) Keeps at least some of the nasties away.

Joss papers, incense bowls, and hippie crystals for good vibes. He doesn’t have much to combat spirits with, but given his training in Taoist Mysticism, he can be diplomatic with them.

Lots of books of post-it notes with the “Truths of Taoism” written on them in bold Chinese symbols. These are primarily for Jiangshi, but most creatures with a strong aversion to religious symbols may feel the same effects with these.

Small, sealed jars of dubious content, locked in a suit case, stolen from a children’s hospital. A virgin’s urine repels and may physically harm Jiangshi… Hell, it repels and “physically harms” everyone else, too.

A modern demonslayer’s greatest weapons: A laptop, notebook, pencils, and a toolbox full of minor construction and carpentry wares.

A 9-section chain whip, where the dagger end is a sharp, silver-treated cross. He’s no wushu master, but it does keep your average monsters at a distance, if only because there’s a sharp end.

2 milk jugs and a spraybottle of water blessed by a priest. Useful for hot, dry days, cleaning off the odd grunge… Oh, and throwing at the undead. That’s usually the more common application.

A shiny silver pocket watch, so he can subtly check for reflections while he’s checkin’ for time.

A home tanning lamp, which can plug into most US electrical outlets. He owns this mostly as a joke, since he doesn’t really know whether a sunlamp would actually have the same effect by giving off similar light, or if it’s the more mystical properties of the sun that burn vampires. Can’t hurt to try sometime, though. For science.

A bitchin’ motorcycle.

A jar of lactating bitch hormones that regular hunters use to bait traps. This is because lesser Jiangshi are usually scared of dogs, but hey, it’s one helluva signal for werewolves too.

A small camping trailer he usually pulls with his motorcycle, full of the aforementioned thingstuffs. But not the bike, of course.

His glorious mustache.

Supernatural Target: Though perhaps more 'classically trained' in Jiangshi and Vampire combat, He's a werewolf hunter at heart. Alas, a businessman must diversify. He'll plan and analyze any prey with a high enough price on its head.

Strengths:

He's an expert in Hung Gar, assorted forms in pressure point martial arts, and Boxing. This essentially means that while he can almost punch on par with some strong supernaturals as far as brute force is concerned, he's an expert at ducking, weaving, dodging, and rolling, directing force away from himself, and messing with the balance of his opponent, tripping them up or forcing them to move back more than they normally would for an attack of such force. This allows him to go hand-to-hand with Supernaturals in dire straits without being immediately eviscerated, and definitely makes him capable of keeping people much stronger than he is on their toes and hopefully away from him.

He is ridiculously equipped. Just ridiculously equipped.

He’s developed an immunity to Wolfsbane’s aconitum after years of training and years of accidentally drinking the remainder of the powder when he didn’t have the sleight of hand to empty the whole ring into someone’s drink.

He's 20/8 in one eye, making him a crack shot at mid to long distances, and an excellent observer of things.

Weaknesses:

He doesn’t know how to deal with ghosts and the incorporeal. He has no real weaponry or MO that deals with them specifically. The most he’s been taught to do is set up obstacles, weaken negative energies, and try to convince them to leave… Which doesn’t usually work, since he usually only tracks down criminal supers.

He prefers a “hands-on analysis” of crime scenes. While supernaturals tend not to hang around the scene of the crimes they’ve committed, it does get him into big trouble with the law, and he always does run the risk of meeting something he isn’t equipped to deal with.

He keeps his "Bad Eye" covered unless he's sure he's entering a close quarters situation. Trying to see through one eye where the other eye gets bleary messes with his observation. While his other eye is just fine, 20/20 vision, it messes with him when he's trying to look a long distance. However, keeping the patch on messes with his depth perception and peripheral vision, so he lifts it up or takes it off when things get personal.

The police aren’t fond of his antics, and, having been in the system already, are very quick to assume he’s up to something and get in his way whenever they can. Most officials that he’s actually told the truth to would have him institutionalised, if that was still a thing people could just do with the mentally ill.

Part of his new probation program is mandatory time with a therapist. Not only is he now tied to another person, who can be harmed, but he has to spend time off the job every few days. It absolutely boils his gravy.

Stance: Decidedly inactive. He takes no stock in contracts for suspected supernaturals, or supernaturals that haven't committed any crimes. He considers himself a lawman, or regulator, of people that policemen can't handle, not a soldier. Having grown up with the ideals of a family at literal war with racist skinheads, he finds the idea of a "War" between supernaturals and humans abhorrent and wrong, and he finds both sides to be misguided at best.

Other: He doesn't usually carry the vast majority of his arsenal, of course. However, he usually always has his pistol in his jacket, as is allowed by his concealed carry permit in most states. He also brings with him his vampire-checking watch, ring, and Jiangshi Sticky-notes. They're pretty useful, and don't take up much space, so there's no real reason not to have them. He also keeps his knife in a sheath on his belt, unless he's going to a particularly weapon-sensitive place, like a bank, convenience store, or orphanage... In which case he'll be a bit of a dick and hide it somewhere in his coat, like the gun. Also a bottle of hot sauce, which is usually more about making restaurant food more delicious, but it is an eye, skin irritant, and nose irrtant, (Especially for those with sensitive eyes, skins, and noses, like werebeasts) and it has garlic in.