Name: Roger Wilkinson
Epithet: Scoville
Age: 11
Height: 55 inches
Weight: 77 pounds
Race: Human

Appearance- A blonde child with glasses and pale skin. Most often seen in his school uniform.

Abilities/Skills- Scoville is imbued with mastery over capsaicin, hot sauce, and all other spicy things.

-His body has its own center of gravity similar in pull to that of the Earth's, but it can only draw in hot sauce. It can be turned on or off, and when on, all nearby hot sauces begin moving towards him as if the surface they were previously resting on had been tipped upside down. If they are far enough away, they can reach terminal velocity. This ability has a range of two hundred kilometers. Spicy vapors and whatnot move just as quickly towards him as if they were subject to the same amount of gravity as a solid. Scoville can also concentrate the gravity over different parts of his body to increase its strength and decrease the surface area that the sauces cover, or he can reverse the gravity and compact sauce into "pressure channels". These pressure channels are immensely powerful, so much so that when he lets loose at maximum strength, the released stream of hot sauce is propelled at Mach 7. It's not uncommon for most of his sauce jets to average out to around the speed of sound after two seconds of preparation, with seven seconds needed to reach the pressure required to top hypersonic speeds. He can fire from virtually any part of his body, but mostly sticks to launching attacks from his hands and feet. He can also use pressure channels to manipulate the shape of any hot sauce that is in contact with him, A.E, he can draw the all of the hot sauce on his body into the palm of his hand and form it into a perfect square. There is no limit to how much hot sauce Scoville can manipulate so long as he is in physical skin-to-skin contact with it.

-He is immune to all forms of heat and spiciness.

-Scoville can secrete his own hot sauces, at a rate of two gallons per second if his entire body is used to generate the juice. In ten seconds he can generate his own body weight in hot sauce.

-In lieu of typical hot sauces, Scoville can substitute either crystalized or liquid capsaicin. It has a heat rating of 16,000,000 Scoville units. By comparison, the hottest habanero only has a rating of 350,000. Police grade pepper spray is rated 2,000,000.

-He can increase the heat of all spicy foodstuffs, to the point of boiling or even vaporization. He can do this remotely to anything spicy affected by his gravity.

-Scoville is very protective of his glasses, for they are an expensive prescription brand and he is extremely nearsighted without them. The destruction of his glasses has been known to send him into a frightening rage, which fuels his abilities and allows him to double the rate of his sauce production in addition to drastically increasing his own body heat. At the peak of his fury, Scoville's touch can carry with it a temperature of over 950°C.

Personality- In the world of video games, there are creatures known as "squeakers". Underage gamers whose parents purchase mature rated games for them, along with an accompanying headset. These squeakers are known to be wildly rude, immature, annoying, and generally very unpleasant to deal with. Scoville, having obtained such powers as no child should be in his or her right to possess, is a rare case of the much deadlier organism thusly described as an "irl squeaker". His mischievous antics and ridiculous behaviors are tailor made to troll the world, and troll the world he does. That isn't to say he is a monster, morally speaking. Scoville isn't a murderer, isn't a great destructor. He mostly just slips hot sauce into the head dean's sandwiches, or gives the old boiler a working over to made the showers painfully hot. He pranks for fun, and though some may see him as malicious, he is really just a boy being a boy. Still, he is a very capable boy. He can and has used the full extent of his formidable power to kill those who would try to kidnap, assault, and otherwise perform seriously unlawful actions against his person. This has just so happened to include small militias and local mobsters, all of whom tasted the fiery armpits of preteen hell.

Background- Scoville grew up as your run of the mill precocious British schoolboy, studying for college and getting into all kinds of wacky shenanigans in the meantime. He'd been known by his nickname since the age of five, when he ate an entire scotch bonnet pepper and asked for seconds during a family reunion. Even his own mother calls him Scoville over his real name. As for how he gained his power? When he was seven he dumped a bottle of habanero sauce into the soup of Mary Poppins. No seriously. He pranked the holy fuck out of Mary Poppins when he happened upon her in a retirement home, when his class was going 'round singing carols to the elderly during Christmas. Using her magic, Poppins thrust a curse onto Scoville. He would never more be able to suffer the delicious pain of spicy foods, eternally immune to the heat. Unfortunately the curse backfired. Poppins, in her old age, was too much of a senile old bat to realize that he had used too much juice. He not only gave Scoville an immunity to heat, but also absolute control over it.

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Aliases: The Sleeper of the Clandestine, Shasheuss-Gux (Seminole), Salmu Pulhu (Sumerian), The Great Father

Gender: Male

Species: Living Nightmare, Primordial Vampire

Lifespan: As long as it can continue drinking blood. It doesn't age when it sleeps for years in-between large meals.

Age: 2,387 (Current Physical Form and Mental State), otherwise timeless and unrestricted by the concept of age.

Appearance: A piebald monstrosity with slime slicked flesh and no hind legs. Its only limbs are two craggy, winged arms and a powerful tail of prodigious size. It has four fingers on each hand, with the middle one bearing a claw eight inches long and capable of slicing through muscle like tissue paper. The other claws are half that length. It wears a dripping maw packed tightly with gruesome tombstone teeth, concealed beneath flabby lips pulled back into a knowing, dog-like grin. Childhood fears, once long forgotten, echo dimly throughout its unseeing, oily eyes. These features are accentuated by long, crinkle cut ears and wrinkled leaf nostrils. It has a sharp, hollow tongue which can extend three feet from its mouth and act as a siphon to suck in blood. Dermal branchial papulae, like the thousands of little tube-like legs on a starfish, coat its skin and protrude whenever it is beneath water or drenched in slime. When inactive the respiratory feelers retreat into the body, leaving the flesh porus and spongy.



It is without a reflection and the monster's motion and form exhibit a surreal, dreamy quality that offends the basic innermost sensibilities of any remotely natural or sane organism. From snout to tail base it's over eight feet long. The tail is fourteen feet, and each arm is six foot five to the wrist. It weighs in at about two-hundred and ninety-five kilos, as much as a Siberian tiger.



Abilities




(An untranslated 18th century copy of De Vermis Mysteriis.)

Behavior/Personality: The Magna Pater is what one would first think of when the word "monster" comes to you in the dead of night.
It may be called if one completes a forbidden ritual detailed within the ancient tome of black magic known as De Vermis Mysteriis, but nary a being would consider doing such an obscene thing. It makes no noise, has no mercy, cannot be reasoned with, and lives only to drain the blood and devour the flesh of all living things it can bind within its greasy wings. Despite its incalculable intelligence, it never makes any attempts to communicate with victims. It has no desire for social interaction or for personal expression. The Magna Pater is wise in the ways of psychological torture, and knows that it is much more traumatic for a victim to not understand the nature or identity of their tormentor. Such is its cruelty that it affords its prey not even the courtesy of acknowledging them as sentient beings.

It enjoys all manner of prey and is especially inclined to go out of its way to find toddlers and infants, but it is shy and despises the light. It prefers to remain in damp pitch-blackness, where no eyes can spy it and no light can fall upon it. Areas that it has frequented for many years are imbued with distinct, otherworldly vibes, as would be felt in a grievously haunted house. Its lairs are moreso thickened with an underlying feeling of unreality, as if partly submerged in an eerie fantasy. It holds residence in the wilds of Florida, in a basalt cavern that does not flood. When outside of its primary lair it lurks around graveyards and canals. In the graveyards it may be found squirming through the wormy soil to feast upon the dead and decaying when no live meat is available. When swimming below the canals that criss-cross through Cape Coral, it preys upon the elderly and the infirm that wander to close to the murky waters.


("The dark side of life, and the horror of it, belonged to a world that lay remote from his own select little atmosphere of books and dreamings.")

It frequently impregnates victims with its brood, keeping them alive until its malformed young are birthed. It will eat both the victim and the young, doing these things not for food but to purposefully inflict prolonged torment. The few who come into contact with it and live may never be the same as they had been before, for above all else it is a creature of persistence. Even if one leaves the Magna Pater, it will never leave them. A variety of lifelong physical complications and psychological ailments can stem from a meeting with it and it never stops pursuing its prey, even if they move far away. It will also track down any living thing that leaves its scent on a victim. This leads to the Magna Pater consuming the families of those it hunts, along with anyone those families had come into recent physical contact with. Though one may travel often and abroad, once the Magna Pater has chosen a victim their fate is inevitable. It could take days, weeks, months, even years, but eventually on some cold and moonless evening one will awaken to see a sticky face with dead eyes peering through their bedroom window.


(Drawing found in the desk of ten year old Vidya Singh, who went missing in Kanpur, India, two months after claiming to have seen a demon in his backyard.)

History:


Once in a millennium does a creature awaken, a primal horror that represents the physical manifestation of an ethereal, reincarnating monster originating in and as a part of an eternal non-Euclidean nightmare extending past the boundaries of reality. The literal translation of the creature's name, and the name of the nightmare (for it resides within itself) is that of the "Great Father", as many other monsters come from it. In order to fully influence other spheres with its presence, it must obey most of the natural and dimensional laws present. As such, it casts forth a tangible extension of itself. Through this physical presence it may gradually submit other lifeforms and habitats to its will and alter their fundamental states of being. The Magna Pater stalks alone, for it is greedy and does not abide its own kind, but always has one lived. It is the alpha of its mindless subspecies, who thrash and writhe in a charnel chaos of endless autocannibalism amongst the desolation of the heavenly bodies the Magna Pater has ravaged. When all other life is gone, the brood eat and grow off of each other as a self-sustaining conglomerate organism that is its own ecosystem.
Only when the lone alpha dies is a new one conceived in the nightmare, as a new Magna Pater recycled. At this point in time does a special one exist, the worst that has ever lived, who was known by the humans of old as "The Sleeper of the Clandestine". Such is its cunning that it has learned to retrieve its memories via the psychic link to its vast brood scattered throughout time and space. It can live again as itself after death, when one-hundred years of incubation has passed. Only can the Magna Pater be permanently stopped if its pneuma, its true state of being, is destroyed or sealed away. Though it is exceedingly difficult to entirely destroy the full entity, as each brood carries with it a fragment of the whole, which in and of itself exists in abstract form, the Magna Pater can be ultimately contained and stopped potentially forever by capturing its pneuma, which leaves its eyes when it dies, in a stone of turquoise weighing at least five pounds. Turquoise was regarded by Aztecs and Native Americans alike to be the holiest of stones, and infinitely more potent than a woven dreamcatcher at stifling nightmares. Such is the truth.

It travels far and with little preference, drawn to whatever realm has foolishly called it via black magic. In Sumeria it was worshipped as an obscure and cruel deity to which countless sacrifices were made. Before the Seminole Wars it was dreaded by the Creek Indians, who gave it many names and forms, as it was too wicked a thing to exist under any one description. Even the most vile of devils balk at associating with it. Like each Magna Pater before it, it wields the unique capacity to share the senses, memories, and will of its subspecies, which it can use to wipe out entire populations. Fortunately it is a petty thing, and despite the magnitude of its origins, it remains content to personally antagonize one victim at a time. It treasures the world, but only for the sadistic pleasures it can derive from slowly bringing pain and grief to other living things.

Though it lingers not permanently on this planet, it is anchored here during times of inactivity. It haunts the secret places deep below ground, amidst a lichen hellscape of death and graverot. It slumbers upon a towering mountain of soggy bones, the bones of children, reigning over its decaying empire on a haphazard throne several thousand lives thick. Those who enter this wretched domain, where the blue sky transitions into a black void, do so at the risk of becoming yet another skeleton upon which the Magna Pater may sleep, with their loved ones soon joining them.

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Name: Suliss the Thief
Age: Unknown
Height: Unknown
Weight: Unknown
Race: Usually human
Alignment: Evil



Appearance- He could be anyone.



*Equipment: Naught but a mere dagger with a seven inch blade.



Abilities- Suliss is a powerful sorcerer with access to many forbidden magics. He is currently in the body of an average joe, and as such from a physical standpoint is completely normal. His body right now is around twenty-five years of age, can bench press 175 pounds, and can run 15 miles per hour.

*Body Steal: Suliss has the power to change bodies with his victims by repeating the following chant whilst in physical contact with them. This works even if they wear clothing, armor, or other forms of mobile protection, so long as they can feel the pressure of his direct contact.

"Thig Mòr Athair!
Thoir dhomh an fheoil mo nàmhaid.

Airson tròcair m 'anam.
Airson a 'phuing mo bhàis.
Eisdibh rium -mach à bho mo dhìteadh guth.

Bidh mi a ' lùbadh fheòil a thoil, Mòr Athair!
Bidh mi a ' lùbadh fheòil a thoil, Mòr Athair!
Bidh mi a ' lùbadh fheòil a thoil, Mòr Athair!

Dòcha chaillte n-anaman a ghabhail gus ur shuthain uaimh!

Bidh mi a ' lùbadh fheòil a thoil, Mòr Athair!
Bidh mi a ' lùbadh fheòil a thoil, Mòr Athair!
Bidh mi a ' lùbadh fheòil a thoil, Mòr Athair!"

When he switches bodies, he gains unrestricted access to all of his victim's powers with a full knowledge of their abilities and skills. Suliss must repeat the entire chant to complete the change, and has to start over from the beginning if he loses contact with the opponent. If he is interrupted from speaking, he can pick up where he left off, so punching him in the mouth wouldn't force him to start over. If new forms allow him to speak faster, then he may complete the ritual all the more quickly. Currently, it takes him twenty seconds to finish.

*Siphon: Suliss can emit a spell that steals a lifeform's energy and transfers it to himself. The converted energy can be used to increase his own strength or allow him to immediately cast a spell with equivalent or less power than was gained. He slowly loses the power over time unless he switches into a new body more powerful than his own, in which case he can keep all of the power he stole. He loses all power gained after exactly one hour. It currently takes him two seconds to charge a weak Siphon spell which travels at 329 fps and steals 5% of an opponent's vitality, thus creating a 10% gap in strength. Every two seconds the spell is charged tacks on another 5% drain, and with a fifty second charge he can entirely drain a victim. If he makes physical contact with an opponent whilst Siphon is charging, he can continually drain 5% from them every two seconds. He can dual cast this spell with both hands to steal 5% per second, or half the charge time of the max power Siphon. If he switches bodies with a Siphoned opponent, he loses no strength and the opponent gains nothing. This spell creates a thick, sickly yellow haze around his hands.

*Wrack: This spell functions with the same power charge as Siphon, except instead of stealing strength, it inflicts enormous agony. The more time Wrack is charged, the more intense the pain is and the longer it lasts. The pain lasts for half as long as the spell is charged. A two second Wrack spell will make one's body feel as if it were beset on all sides by needles covered in salt and vinegar. At half power the body feels like a giant testicle that has just been crushed flat by a hot waffle iron. At full power the victim feels all the agonies of ultimate hell, and unless they have some ability that renders them immune to pain or their body functions differently from other biological life forms, they will typically die instantly from shock. Wrack manifests as crackling maroon energy winding about Suliss's mitts like snakes.

*FoulFire: A form of fire magic that, instead of burning the flesh, slowly flays and peels it apart like a cheese grater on a banana skin. It functions with the two second charge of course, with a weak spell being painful but almost negligible, and a max power Foulfire able to slowly and irrevocably entirely separate an entity's tissues from its skeleton. Usually a direct hit from a half charged Foulfire is enough to send a human into shock and kill them from blood loss. When charging this attack, his fingertips are set alight with dripping green flames.

*Chain: By charging a spell for an extra five seconds, Suliss can make the attack bounce from target to target without losing momentum. With this versatile trick, he can pinball an attack throughout an entire army. Each target must be within 100 yards of the next to get hit. Suliss can steal mass amounts of power in populated areas this way.

*Asylum: This spell can only be used after a full minute of one-handed charging, or thirty seconds with both hands occupied. It creates a magical barrier ten yards across, a perfect black orb that lets nothing in or out, lasting for twenty seconds. Whilst in the orb Suliss can /instantly/ charge his magic, allowing him to spam spells as fast as he can think them. Needless to say, getting caught in it is undesirable.

*Conjure: If Suliss can obtain one ounce of biological matter from a target, be it hair, flesh, blood, or whatever substitute the lifeform has, he can use the matter as fuel to summon a "Bogle" after seven seconds of charging, a demon that embodies the worst fear of the one from whose tissues it was spawned, and will pursue the target ceaselessly. The bogle can only be defeated if the target can overcome their fear, at least temporarily. If the target has no fear, then in the bogle's stead will the caster's worst fear be called in true, not as a mere accurate imitation but the real thing. In Suliss's case, an unnatural monster he encountered many lives ago known only to a cursed few as...



It is the very entity whose black essence he draws upon in order to gain the ability to steal bodies. So frightful is the creature that Suliss only resorts to using Conjure if he is sure of an opponent's fear, or if he expects to die anyways.
Even then Suliss prefers to take to his heels after casting Conjure, for the Magna Pater, if it heeds the call of a dark wizard and the scent of a fearless being, will most likely pursue the nearest prey. Whomever is caught by the creature, for them death will kind mercy they will never receive, forever and after.

*Mix-Ups: Suliss can use his dual casting ability to mix and intertwine his magics to create new spell combinations, such as WrackFire, Siphoning Flames, and LeechWrack. His ultimate attack is to combine all three spells by using his mouth as a third conduit to charge another spell, though this greatly taxes his stamina and leaves him too weak to walk afterwards. The result is LitchFire, a flamethrower-like assault that can continue shoot forth and burn for as long as it can Siphon energy from a victim. Its heat depends on the victim's durability, as the Siphon will continuously fuel the power of the fire with the target's own life force. If set on fire, the only way to put out the flame is to remove whatever part of the body the fire is feeding on. Like all of the other spells, LitchFire follows the two second charge rule.

The speed of the spells and the charge rate may change if Suliss harnesses bodies with greater reserves of life force.



Personality- Suliss is a cruel and conniving villain that desires only power. He enjoys dominating others more than life itself. Throughout his countless ages of switching bodies, his own personal identity has dissolved save for his core desires and ambitions, turning him into a sadistic machine-like creature with no set body. He has no quirks, no little likes or dislikes, nothing like that. He relentlessly pursues power without rest, and that is all.

History- It is not known for how long Suliss has lived. He himself doesn't know. It is not known from whence he came, or where he is going. All that is known, to a select few who know more than they wish they did, that up until a few days ago, Suliss had been imprisoned beneath the ground in the skeletal corpse of a dead woman, having been buried alive many years ago. Grave diggers. Idiots. They went and took Suliss out from his prison, and in return he freed them from their bodies. Again now he resumes his quest to attain ultimate power, and to gain dominion over all existence by working his way up the chain of command until he can inhabit the greatest form of all.

In truth, however, Suliss was the grandson of a powerful sorcerer once feared throughout many realms, a wicked man known as Count Malimore Maclung. Malimore exercised all kinds of foul black magicks, many of which may not be spoken of in polite society. He trained a then young Suliss Maclung in the dark arts, but then and without warning, Malimore vanished. At the time, some said he achieved such power that he ascended into some other morbid existence. Others claimed that his grandson slew him and hid the body. Whatever the case, Suliss is no longer a Maclung. He left that life behind long, long ago.

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Name: Xillian "Xil Gil" Giles
Age: Thirty-two
Gender: Male
Race: Cyborg

Appearance: Xil Gil by all means appears to be a douchebag's rendition of a quintessential, stiff-gaited British salary man. He stands six feet tall, 180 pounds (He looks like he should weigh less, but you know, he's full of metal shit), with coke bottle glasses, tidy hair, and tea-stained teeth. He is never seen without a pair of black gloves on, and always wears long sleeve shirts in public. From about the middle of his forearms down, his skin tapers into black, zig-zagging wires and nodes which thicken into his fully mechanical hands, a flexible brown polymer coating the metal. This polymer feels and closely resembles what one might (falsely) guess to be some strange mix of leather and rubber, allowing Xil Gil's hands a protective covering just firm enough to pass for human skin when he has his gloves on.

Personality: Xil Gil comes across as a character you'd see in Monty Python. Everything about him screams "awful British humor". He's well-mannered but prone to accidental offences, a true upper-class twit. He enjoys the little things in life, and decidedly avoids discussions of a complex nature. Xil Gil is shallow and superficial, his quirky tidbits doing nothing to alleviate the unbridled cruelty with which he visits upon those his employers deem "troublesome". If anything, one could call Xil Gil a Bondian henchman and be right on the money.

Bio: Xillian Giles had a fine upbringing in (formerly) Great Britain, born in the year 2256. He had lousy showings in school and at home, not being the brightest bulb in the basement. Despite his poor aptitude he proved himself to be a hard worker and managed to claw his way into the Ministry of Defence, secret service. Hmm? His childhood? Not everyone has interesting childhoods, least of all little English turd tukeys. Trust me, it's boring. After a few years he migrated to Mexmerica (don't ask) and found work at the leading biomechanics organization. They appreciated his talents, and did their best to put him to good use. He was fitted with cybernetic enhancements and told to discreetly kill those that undermine the company. An assassin? No. A mercenary? Not that. You've gotta call it what it is, the lable on the can. They helped Xil Gil to become a murderer.

People began disappearing at a greater rate than before. Opponents of the corporation, some quite famous, just vanishing into thin air. Every force has its Red Baron. The one that people learn to fear. Is Xil Gil feared? Let's just say that he can get an empty table at any restaurant, at any time.

Abilities: Xil Gil uses his hands almost exclusively. His mitts are completely robotic, and their strength is such that he can crush an engine block in his grip as if it were Styrofoam. He can give industrial steel girders Indian sunburns or rub a quarter between two fingers and reduce it to warm shavings. The raw power of his pinching phalanges can make an industrial hydraulic press wet in the panties. The high tension single-atom filament muscle fibers and fiber optic nerve cables situated throughout his entire body serve only to make his paws as ridiculously strong as possible. Most of his frame is, metaphorically speaking, a pulley-system that powers his hands and wrists.
This being the case, it should be obvious why he likes to shake hands in dark alleys.

Since most of the sinew and bone in his body is interwoven with composite metals to power his monster grip, Xil Gil is quite the tank. He can endure more damage than a Caterpillar tractor, able to withstand continuous automatic gunfire and shrug off the frenzied teeth and claws of a grizzly bear. His innards are studded with electrostatic transformers that create a field which counters the effect that technology disrupting junk has on his circuitry. Microwaves and ions and all that jazz. All in all, he's almost as tough to put down as the Terminator. The primary difference is that he still has most of his human organs, and so he can't quite survive being blown in half or guard himself from a shockwave fierce enough to liquify his fleshy parts. Yes, he also needs to breathe and can be poisoned. His feet are purely cybernetic like his hands, but for another reason. The circumference of his soles are flanked by retractable claws which can dig into concrete or seal against metal via magnetism. The primary purpose of this is to allow him to walk up walls to get at hard-to-reach victims and maintain sure footing in combat.
His brain (in its shock-proof skull) also has a few chips in it that allow him to process information at a faster rate than what a normal human is capable of, juicing up his reflexes real good-like. He can perceive motion well enough to be able to evade a world champion boxer's punches without needing to take a step in retreat, snatch arrows out of flight, and identify the precise moment that a finger tenses to pull a trigger.

If Xil Gil finds himself in a tight spot, he can pull out a few mean stops. If given several seconds, he can open up his body's task manager and change his system processes, temporarily devoting all of his processing power into creaming the opponent before him. His reaction speed spikes even further and he no longer has any wasted movement. He becomes capable of extraordinary feats of agility and coordination.



Lastly, he can take his gloves off and latch a set of clawed braces onto his hands. In doing so he betters his chances of snagging careless victims and can use his deadly fingers like shivs, except few shivs if any can punch through cinderblocks as easily as the digits of Xil Gil.

Other: Despite Xil Gil's toughness and hand-to-hand killing power, he likes to avoid direct confrontations. He lacks the ability to deal with long-ranged attacks, and contrary to the public's perception of what a cyborg is capable of, he's actually no faster than a normal man. Yup, that's right. Xil Gil has no speed enhancements or guns. If you can outrun your average fit Brit, then you can outrun and most likely outmaneuver Xil Gil. Needless to say more physically balanced fighters can run absolute rings around him, and a good marksman can Kobe his ass from a hundred yards easy if they have the firepower required. He's also a bit of a dimwit, and can be outsmarted if somebody has the presence of mind to try and bluff him. The only conceivable way Xil Gil can nail a competent opponent is if he catches them unawares and grabs them before they can bolt. If he does manage to grab said opponent though, what usually follows is ghastly enough to make John Carpenter ralph in a baggie.

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Name: Donovan Booth
Alias: "First-Degree" Donny
Age: 36
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 165 pounds
Race: Human
Alignment: True Neutral



Appearance: A slight but sturdy man with scarce eyebrows, a baby-face, sunken green eyes, a porn stache, and sprayed back ginger hair. He almost always sports a languid grin and frequently wears black pants and dress shoes with suspenders and black gloves, in addition to a dark trench coat or overcoat. He's a big fan of ties and speaks with a nasally Downeast accent.



Weapons and Equipment-

-The weight of his combined personal gear is around thirty-five pounds, discounting the clothes and satchel. His suspenders help distribute and relieve the weight of his equipment.

-Customised Model M513 Raging Judge Magnum revolver with a titanium firing cylinder and a Mernickle quick draw holster worn on the thigh. The rifling of the barrel, the cylinder tapering, and the frame are modified in a manner reminiscent of the Smith & Wesson Model 460XVR, to accommodate high speed .460 Magnum rounds. Put simply, the most powerful six round revolver on the planet. Donny carries three .45 Colt 325 grain Buffalo Bore moon clips, three .454 Casull XTP Hornady clips, three .454 Hornady jacketed hollow point clips, and three .460 Magnum 200 grain DPX Cor-Bon clips. His suspender straps are stocked with six of each individual bullet type. The hammer of the Magnum is modified to allow for fanning as a faster alternative to the double-action function.

-Unfiltered Camel soft pack cigarettes.

-Zippo lighter.

-A roll of quarters.

-Fake police inspector badge.

-A flask of purified lamp oil.

-Digital recorder preset with several two-hour tracks, including pained sounds, occasional coughing and snorting, casual and serious phone conversations, a muffled voice, muffled whimpering, and whistling.

-A custom high powered 28,000,000 volt, 10 milliamp Runt stun gun holstered at his left side.

-Belt buckle knife.

-Set of steel cord handcuffs secured to the front of his belt and two spare keys. One key is stitched into his overcoat on the right side and the other is stitched into his left pants pocket.

-Trench coat with holes in the pockets and razorblades stitched into the collar. His shirt has razors in the collar as well.

-A black hearse fitted with bullet-proof black windows, tires and paneling, an electric 300 horsepower induction motor, and xenon flood lights. Goes from 0-60 in 2.7 seconds, makes very little noise compared to gas engine vehicles, and accelerates backwards as fast as it can go forwards.

-A modified X800 ShadowHawk flashlight secured to his belt on the left side. It has a custom tactical rail attached, and can be connected to the top of the Magnum's barrel or to the MP5.

-A gas compression ballistic knife with a snap button sheath secured vertically to his right suspender, with the hilt pointing downwards. Has an effective range of 6 meters and travels at 42 mph.

-Silenced QBZ-95-1 machine gun with two 60-round magazines, utilizing hollow points. This is kept in his car.

-Modified UTAS UTS-15 automatic shotgun with flash suppressor, silencer, and 32 round drum. Kept in a unique zipper satchel that Donny frequently wears slung over his back.

-.950 JDJ rifle with four rounds, one always being loaded. This 85 pound gun is kept in the back of Donny's van, which is usually nearby. Comes with a scope.

-Five pull-pin grenades with welded on rings (for ring clips) and optional tripwires, typically stored on the belt. One MK3 concussion grenade, two M67 fragmentation grenades, one M18 smoke grenade, and one M-14 napalm grenade.

-Six inch switchblade in his pocket. It has a ring clip at the hilt base.

-A white handkerchief and a one ounce aerosol bottle of cyanide, disguised as nose spray.

-Customized retractable high-density golf club made just for braining folks holstered at his belt. It has a ring clip at the hilt base.

-Twenty-five foot razor sharp microfilament garrote wire reel concealed within a wristwatch that can be withdrawn via clip ring. It's almost invisible to the naked eye, as light as a spider's web, sharp enough to cut through bone with effort, and can withstand up to 2,300 pounds of tension without breaking. Donny can control how much is extracted and retracted with the interface of his watch. He can also remove the wire spool from the watch at a moment's notice.

-Spring loaded five-inch knives within the heels and toes of his shoes that will jut out when a switch on the instep is triggered. The soles of his shoes are padded with rubber to muffle his steps.

-Pair of insulated quarter-pound S.A.P black combat gloves weighted with lead. They are fashioned from a high density polymer that can resist being cut by the garrote wire.

-A heavy duty bullet proof vest that can stop even the largest of slugs.

-Can of FOX military grade pepper spray holstered at his belt.

-Portable six inch shaving mirror on his belt.

-Four adhesive bombs, which can be remotely detonated via digital watch or set with a timer. Each bomb contains enough TNT to scrap a minivan. Three are kept in his car, and he keeps one on his person.

















Physical Abilities/Skills: Donny looks like a geeky dad, the kind of embarrassing adult that could be found doing jumping jacks in neon dolphin shorts down at the local YMCA. This is a strength. Hardly anyone ever suspects just how obscenely dangerous he really is. As a former Green Beret, he diligently trains to stay in peak condition and is a grandmaster of unconventional warfare, as well as an expert on improvised, civilian, and military weaponry. He's a world class gunslinger with a level of manual dexterity and slight of hand most often attributed to master street magicians. Donny's extremely deceptive, excelling in both acting and psychological warfare, in addition to having a eidetic memory combined with a formidable spatial sense. In layman's terms, he fights dirty and abuses any advantages without hesitation. Concealed weaponry, surprise attacks, anything goes. His unwarranted ruthlessness alone is enough take most opponents off guard. His go-to solution for any troublemaker is an immediate and untelegraphed bullet to the skull.

He has over eighteen years of experience in combat as an elite professional killer, with at least 172 confirmed kills in Pakistan alone. Though he is a capable hand-to-hand fighter, he by far prefers mid-range firefights. He is a true "dead eye" with his selected firearms, and can hit a bottle cap at ninety-one meters with his Magnum revolver, the weapon he favors above all others. Such is his skill with the gun that he can fire off all six shots in just a little over a second by fanning the hammer, whilst still maintaining excellent accuracy. For reference as to the revolver's power, the .45 Colt slugs can put a one inch hole through a steel cooking pan at mid-range. The Casull rounds travel at Mach 1.7 and need but a single shot to take down an African bull elephant. The Casull hollow points can reduce a wild boar's innards to custard. The .460 Magnum rounds travel at Mach 2, easily faster than even .500 and .600 bullets, and can vaporize a human head as if it were a rotten cabbage.



At close range with the automatic shotgun, Donny can empty the drum and turn a human into hamburger in about as much time than it takes for the body to hit the ground. His secret weapon, the .950 JDJ rifle, fires a bullet with over nineteen tons of force per square foot.
It can literally shoot through schools.



Personality: Donny is best described as an unfettered man. He does what he wants, when he wants, only to further his own goals. He is entirely unchained by morality or the legal system, which he holds in contempt. He follows orders only because he likes having something to do, and what he likes to do is kill. Killing is who he is, short and simple. As long as there is violence in the distance he will allow others to give him direction, for a price.
He's outrageously crafty and as mean as an Arizona rattler, albeit with a nigh unbreechable calmness some would call detachment, though on an emotional level he's wholly into his job. He merely has an excellent poker face and never allows himself into a situation that he hasn't complete control over. He's an adrenaline junkie that gets his fix any way he can, primarily by way of murder, but also by driving like a complete maniac, playing games with law enforcement, and committing acts of terrorism. He's socially passable by modern standards, but has no qualms about being a public nuisance. He's quite skilled at being annoying, and uses it as a tool to pick fights. He enjoys smoking, but only does so before and after a kill.
He likes taking first-class rides at the airport, drinking black coffee, making faces at children, and visiting strip clubs.



Background: When a young Donny was first asked himself what he wanted to be when he grew up, he found that he could answer the question immediately. He didn't think he was going to be a killer, he knew it as a fact. He was born to be bad, and bad to the bone at that. He had a typical shitty childhood. He was born in Bangor, Maine, his father a U.S Marine, his mother a sickly stay at home wife, and his uncle a pedophile. Not that his uncle made a difference, for Donny had made up his mind to be a killer long before being abused. He was often unsupervised, and frequently engaged in less than saintly activities. Teachers were astounded at his strange combination of emotional maturity and blatant lack of morals. He quickly learned how to make them think he was a swell kid. In his youth he won several national marksman championships, a regular Annie Oakley. As soon as he was old enough, he joined the military. He was good at what he did, to say the least. He became a Green Beret and served Special Forces in Pakistan and Egypt. He was given a dishonorable discharge for endangerment of human life, various human rights violations, and countless civil misdemeanors. It was during his being stationed in Libya that he was stuck with the nickname of "First-Degree" Donny, after fully destroying three villages with a MIL MI-24 gunship, taking advantage of the commanding officer's wording of orders and forcing the malfunction of his own headset. After his discharge, he settled into Las Vegas.
There he found quick work as a crime syndicate hit man that dispatched anyone who filched on their gambling debts, seizing their assets for himself along with 20-40% of however much money they owed to his employers, plus expenses. Obviously his reputation decreased business, but it was a simple matter for the higher ups to conceal his involvement in many of the deaths. The consistency of his work easily made up for any gamblers he slew or scared away by proxy.



Whenever he wasn't popping filchers, he was taking up hits. Assassinations of all kinds were welcome. He grew into the role of an underworld grim reaper, dreaded to such an extend that the Mafia dared not to double-cross him. Even the local police, to avoid mass casualties, decided to simply stay out of his way. The way they saw it, no possible confrontation with him could result in anything less than a catastrophe rivaling 9/11. The Feds were only called in once, and never again after having eight dozen of their own slaughtered in an incident so brutally embarrassing, it was wiped from the records and in Donny's place a patsy was tossed to the dogs, the failure so complete that a cover-up was the only way to preserve the public's respect for the government. The police have since avoided investigating too deeply into any murder scene where unfiltered Camel cigarette butts are found. After the massacre Donny became the founder of "K9" (Killer Nine), a team of expert killers feared throughout the country. K9's been proven able to kill anyone, anywhere, within a week regardless of their location or importance. Perhaps it's fortunate that nobody who has thus far asked them to kill the president has had enough money to pay for the job.

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Name: Gonad Yaksplitter
Title: The Lord of the Rising Sun
Age: 34
Height: 7'2"
Weight: 499 pounds
Boxing Reach: 92"
Shoe Size: 24
Race: Human
Eye Color: Hazel

Weapons and Equipment-

-His body.

-A set of thick six-kilo gilded steel bracers.

-A pair of three-kilo gilded steel gauntlets.

-A tough, magical cloak that's impervious to heat and cold.

Appearance- Silhouetted against the burning passions of war, a figure stands tall, unmoving. His physique is as definitive as the gory victory with which his gruesome hands secure. Woven into his beard is a tapestry of blood, proclaiming the legendary tales of the countless scars adorning the sacred weapon, known as Gonad. For weapon he is, heated and hammered in the unquenchable fires of battle.

Pure unadulterated muscle. Lean muscle that ripples under his flesh like the waves of the ocean. He has muscles on his muscles. Feet Muscles. Finger muscles. Muscles in places that muscles should not be. A grisly body resembling tanned granite that might as well have been chiseled by the gods. Bulging veins, thick and course. Tendons like steel cords. Fingers like blunt iron rods. Long, sinewy limbs crafted for naught but the deliverance of phenomenal destruction. His enormous yet supple frame moves with a primal grace, the likes of which are comparable only to the untamed beasts of the wild.

His body is riddled with the innumerable wounds left by his combative livelihood. There are hundreds upon hundreds. Where the scars do not cover his body, coarse manly hair, thick and strong like steel wool, does.
He boasts a great dark gray beard speckled with the blood and bone flakes of his foes, flowing down his freakishly striated chest in thick, oily waves reminiscent of the River Styx. From it emanates the very stench of death and graverot, every bit as inescapable as his piercing glare. Within his single eye resides an undying flame, sizzling hotter than the arse-winds of Satan himself.

Personality- What attributes the primal organism known as "Gonad" bears are no different than the attributes of mother nature herself. Blood-tinged Westerlies carving jagged sluices along the tepid surface of a great and mysterious ocean, whose calm demeanor belies a vast and terrible capability. The wisdom of towering snow-capped mountains, whose interminable experience has been honed over countless millennia of wear and tear. The trepid balance between predator and prey, animal and man, intermingling to form a singular amalgamation of virile life. And yet, he maintains a feature apart from nature. Self-awareness. He lives only for pushing the boundaries of human strength and spirit, forcing himself beyond the utmost limit in extreme combat. He fears not death, nor pain, nor loss, for it is from these things that the vigor and strength of true manhood and honor spring. He revels in the pain, luxuriates in death, and basks in loss. He never will engage in dishonorable practices such as deception, and will not tolerate an unfair fight. Though he may oftentimes appear a comical fool, Gonad is truly just a simple man who very rarely premeditates an action, instead acting from the heart and without hesitation, following only the voice of his soul.



Abilities/Skills- Revered by many as the greatest warrior to have ever lived, Gonad boasts tremendous dynamic and static strength and is capable of overpowering virtually any foe near his size. Above all else the strength in his hands is legendary, and so far no foe, living or dead, has succeeded in breaking his grip. He fights through experience and instinct, capable of reacting to attacks through muscle memory before he consciously registers them. He witholds a vast array of rare and lethal wisdom and is said to know of over one-thousand ways to kill with his bare hands. What's more, Gonad is the supreme master of his own body and can control its functions at will. He uses the full potential of his muscular strength, able to constrict blood vessels to keep from losing fluids and transmit senses other than sight through his visual cortex, along with a plethora of other abilities. He's capable of touching and harming incorporeal or transdimensional entities by virtue of being too ignorant to know that he shouldn't.

He's also able to harness the raw energies of manliness itself, a power known as the Beardforce which only those known as the Beardlords may use. It allows him to scale in physical might that his capabilities may be matched evenly in comparison to those of any foe significantly more powerful than him. The Beardforce lets Gonad dampen his own inertia, increase his mass, and empower his surroundings with Beardforce. This ability manifests in such a way that accommodates his wrestling moves, I.E, making the ground harder and his weight greater so that a very durable enemy will be grievously harmed by a piledriver, or briefly creating a small platform of Beardforce in empty space with which to spike an opponent into if there is no ground or floor nearby. He can also use the Beardforce to aid his practical mibility, using the Beardforce platforms to manouver through air or empty space in leu of the power of flight. This cannot be used to trap or trick, for the Beardforce does not permit sneaky or cowardly tactics. The only time an opponent would need to worry about a Beardforce construct would be when Gonad's about to use a WWE technique, such as a body slam, a suplex, or any other attack that requires a hard surface to be effective. Gonad's unarmed strikes are of the highest caliber, and taking into consideration the formidable equalization of the Beardforce, this means no foe in this realm or any other can easily withstand even one direct hit, much like how no human mortal may fairly survive a sword through the torso or a mace to the skull. The Beardforce is based upon Gonad's perception of an opponent along with the opponent's full latent power, and as such the Beardforce cannot be fooled or bypassed, making it effective against abstract concepts or inanimate objects for so long as Gonad thinks of the thing as a foe or said thing presents a threat. The opposite stands true, however, as Gonad himself wears little armor and will always be reasonably susceptible to the attacks of any superhuman enemy he faces, unless the enemy is launching a sneak attack (such as the shot of a sniper or a a suicide bomb), in which case the Beardforce will alert Gonad in advance. Whether it be a normal man with a pickaxe or Superman with a pickaxe, if either buried the point of the weapon in Gonad's skull he would die just the same. If Gonad is facing a group of empowered enemies, his might will be equalized with that of the strongest.

Gonad is a grandmaster of the berserker arts and has an effectively limitless tolerance for pain. He can utilize three different forms of the technique, each one fiercer than the last. These three forms are Semi-Berserk, True Berserk, and the preeminent Primal State. At his peak, he can generate such strength that his own muscles can tear themselves from his bones. When combined with the ability to create self induced hyposthenia within his body, bringing his muscles to the ultimate point of relaxation, Gonad can then contract them with the greatest amount of force that is physically possible. At the cost of having his very bones shatter from the overwhelming might of his own blows, Gonad can unleash attacks of such immensity that any entity on the receiving end of a direct hit gains an immediate and intimate understanding of what it feels like to be the fetus in a Mexican abortion.



Background- They say when the Barbarian called Gonad Yaksplitter was born, he came into this world bearing a full and mighty beard and had the equivalent muscles of a shaved adult yak. He was born on the battlefield, his infantile but well defined body gushing forth from the womb of his mother and landing in a puddle of blood that had been pooling from the corpse of a nearby enemy. It was in this way that Gonad had first been christened with the blood of his enemies. His mother, Chukka, had broken both legs in the battle and only she and her newborn son had survived the disastrous conflict. It had been a Barbarian war party, sent out from Gonad's home village which lay fifty-five miles East.

Chukka was forced to crawl back using her hands and teeth, bearing Gonad on her back. Only by sustaining young Gonad with the meat of her placenta and the warm milk from her breasts was she able to keep him nourished during the arduous trip back. Using the prodigious length of young Gonad's beard, she was able to fashion a makeshift diaper to keep him from soiling her back. After two months, they managed to return to the village, much to the great joy of Chief Jarvi. Upon being shocked at the sight of Gonad's beard-diaper being removed, he promptly named muscular Gonad after his hefty namesake, and renamed their village after the miracle child. For many ages the Village of Gonad has been renowned for its strength, most often migrating around in the deep Wilderness. Gonad's birth was the very culmination of generations of hard-earned might, his destiny pre-determined by the selective breeding of his ancestors. Their intent? To create the ultimate physical human. And so they did.

Since before he could walk, Gonad was made to train in the berserker arts with a relentless fervor that surpassed common sense. Nearly every minute of every hour of every day of his life he endured the most excruciating physical and mental training imaginable, his talent for unarmed combat pushed well beyond the boundaries of reason. He bears as many scars from his training as he does from battle. Gonad has participated in thousands of individual fights, ranging from one on one bouts to full scale wars, and from his experience has even created his own fighting style, which he dubbed "Hefty Fist".

As weakness had been beaten out of him at birth, it was not long before he became so well associated with hardship and pain that both feelings became an integral part of his personality. He enjoys agony and difficulty, and carries upon his shoulders the full weight of his village's pride and future. To Gonad, shame and fear are emotions that no longer exist. With adversity drilled into the very core of his being through unimaginable effort he shaped his mind into an unbreechable iron hull filled with undepletable reserves of determination. Though not by any means distanced from other negative emotions, he still bears them with neither complaint nor angst and has never allowed himself to feel regret.

Gonad now travels the land endlessly, seeking nothing more than worthy opponents to fight. He lives only for pushing the boundaries of human strength and spirit, pushing himself beyond the utmost limit in extreme combat. He fears not death, nor pain, nor loss, for it is from these things that the vigor and strength of true manhood and honor spring. He revels in the pain, luxuriates in death, and basks in loss. To fight for honor, the honor of both himself, and for the honor of those who are unable to defend themselves against the dishonorable.
He has seen countless wars, killed countless enemies, made countless friends. To recount the barbarian's many adventures would be an exercise in futility, for the blood wrought odyssey of Gonad transcends time and experience.

Trivia-

◾Gonad rarely calls people by their actual names, often using their physical appearance to give them a nickname such as Hood Man, Fancy Pants Lady, Pale Man, and Funny Beard. Those who have earned his utmost respect, however, are called by their true name.

◾Gonad's body is so well trained, that with muscle memory he performs isometrics in his sleep.

◾Gonad is almost entirely incapable of learning and/or doing anything that isn't related to combat, training, hunting, and women, the subjects in which he holds enough virtuistic ability to philosophize about. It took him two weeks to learn how to first use a doorknob, and he still hasn't learned how to read even a single word. He is utterly useless outside of his few areas of expertise.

◾Gonad is ambidextrous

◾Gonad's nose has been broken so many times, that all of the cartilage in it has deteriorated. He can push it completely flat against his face. He also has four false teeth crafted from ivory.

◾Gonad rarely travels via boat or ship, opting instead to swim across great bodies of water.

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Name: Kentucky Tom
Age: 29
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 180 pounds
Race: Human
Class: Jerkwad
Alignment: Chaotic
Eye Color: Unknown



Weapons and Equipment: Ray-Ban sunglasses, unfiltered Wildhorse cigarettes, white suit with black tie.

Physical Abilities/Skills: Physically and mentally, Kentucky Tom is remarkably average. He's no more fit than a man of his age normally is. He is, however, one seriously hardass dickweed who used to be a fast talkin' auctioneer. He has only one special ability, but it is virtually impossible to kill or incapacitate with it. His power is known as "Really Buggersome Affectations". He can inflict nasty effects upon enemies by speaking the magic words of a curse and then pointing and firing a softball sized orb of arcane energy. The speed of the shot depends of the nastiness of the curse. Such curses as "Horndoggums Humprumpus" travel at half the speed of a small thrown object, whilst curses like "Pinkwimpor Buttflamingonum" move as fast as bullets. Those in the middle fly as arrows. He can slow down spells as much as he wants and return then to full speed at will after firing them, as much as he likes. He can combine multiple curses into a single attack, the arcane orb increasing in size with each spell added. He can speak at 250 words per minute, about as many as a good auctioneer. He cannot use the same curse twice in a row. The only way to break these curses is to kill him. The known curses he uses are...

*"Impreggio Bitchpleasum"- Impregnates whomever he is pointing at, forcing a baby to be conceived within them. This works on men and inanimate objects. Each subsequent hit halves the pregnancy time, starting at one week pregnant. The baby is ready by week forty. (Mid-Speed)

*"Baldickus Bodilicious"- Instantly removes all the hair on your body. (Fast-Speed)

*"Gayroticus Weinerfestum"- Turns the victim gay. (Slow-Speed)

*"Fartilliarum Skidmarkius"- Gives you the messy farts. (Med)

*"Pinkwimpor Buttflamingonum"- Turns your skin pink. (Fast)

*"Retardingus Shitheadellus"- Lowers an enemy's I.Q by one point. (Med)

*"Dirtlingus Shoutloudius"- Forces an opponent to yell out their deepest, dirtiest secret and then proceed to do so again every two minutes. Each time Tom hits a victim with this curse, it halves the time that they can go without shouting. (Fast)

*"Whiteytightus Fucknuttums"- Makes your underwear ultra-tight and uncomfortable. Each hit by the curse makes the ol' drawers get tighter and tighter until the waistband snaps. (Fast)

*"Beardantili Hipsterium"- Gives you a huge beard. Each hit increases the beard length by 18 inches. (Fast)

*"Nudesweeta Bareassum"- Evaporates the target's clothing into an embarrasing gooey honey mist. (Med)

*"Weaboonekus Fucknuttus"- Gives you a bunny tail and cat ears. (Fast)

*"Pisswiggums Bladdersmallis"- Makes you have to pee really bad. (Med)

*"Horndoggums Humprumpus"- Makes you insanely attracted to the next thing Kentucky Tom points at. It takes tremenous will to resist, and becomes a major distraction until the urge is "satisfied". (Slow)

*"Nipgantius Bigtittumus"- The victim's boob area will grow to five times normal size. (Slow)

*"Fatassium Bastardus"- Makes the victim obese. (Slow)

*"Lolhardickus"- Forces the victim into an awkward situation the likes of which occur most often to us in the morning. If used on a female, it will materialize the required assets upon her being. (Fast)

*"Pussysobbium Crybabius"- Makes you cry uncontrollably. (Med)

*"Racechangium Laughardiculum"- Changes the victim's race. By changing the first word to "Sexchangium" Tom can alter gender instead. (Slow)

*"Narratium Expositorium"- Forces the victim to narrate their actions as they do them in a deep, dramatic voice. They cannot complete their attack until the end of the narration. (Slow)

*"Smurftardicus Squeakerotica"- Gives you a high pitched helium voice. (Fast)

*"Butthorkus Limporkus"- The victim becomes a transgender drag queen complete with unwieldy high heels and wig. (Slow)

*"Blindorial Nerdwerdus"- Makes you near and short sighted and materializes a pair of prescription glasses onto your face. (Med)

*"Pizzamugums Pubertum"- Gives the victim a load of acne. (Fast)

*"Glasswhackius Buttmunchickus"- Makes you instantly punch the nearest person with glasses in the face nice and hard, even if it is yourself. (Med)

*"Dildus Rubberium"- Turns an enemy's weapon into a certain rubber implement. (Slow)

*"Foolookius Overthereius"- Makes you look where Tom is pointing. (Slow)

*"Itchums MacGuiness"- Makes you feel very itchy all over. (Slow)

Background: Kentucky Tom grew up in the rough part of town and was constantly harangued by bullies. Why? He had a smart mouth. Shooting off insults came naturally to Tom. He pissed off teachers, parents, drivers, senators, dogs, you name it. He never had much cash, since his job as an auctioneer didn't pay all that well. But then one day, everything changed. He met an old fakir who beseeched Tom to sell an old Porsche for enough money to bail his deviant grandson out of jail. Tom felt pity for the mystic and at the next auction, sold the vehicle for twice what it was really worth. Out of gratitude the fakir bestowed upon Kentucky Tom the power to incur hilarious status effects upon the unwary.

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