Name: Darnies "DarnDarn" Magula

Age: 22

Supernatural Race: Witch

Ethnicity/Race: Ashkenazi Jew

Appearance:
Standing at a slanted 5'8, Darnies has a skinny form that belies his strength. His dark brown eyes can stare you down to the depths of your soul, leaving you to shiver as green shimmers across them as a show of his power.

Personality: Darnies is laid back and sarcastic at first, his intelligence hidden behind his snappy comebacks and a devil may care attitude. He tries not to show regret or embarrassment, but rather embrace his mistakes and brushes them off. However, he does tend to turn dark or angry at certain topics or affronts, but unfortunately you won't know what they are until he's already upset.

History: Born to a mother who never told his father she was a witch, his family was their coven because his dad left upon learning her secret. He learned magic from the moment he showed a spark and all of his 'aunts' treated him perfectly well to the point of doting; He was the first male with in 5 generations, after all, he should take pride in his rarity, despite it also being considered an omen of change. When he was 11, after much training and preparation, him and his mother set off to find his father after scrying for him. Darnies thought they were going to talk, but his mother was out for the man's blood for abandoning her. "You don't abandon a pregnant witch," She had told him. "It's one of the worst offenses to a witch and her Coven. They can leave after the Birth, but they must be with us throughout the Creation."

In a dingy motel outside of Carson, North Dakota, his father was sitting with a shotgun, years of paranoia from the Coven's curse causing him to always expect the worse and always have a finger on the trigger just in case. His mother blew the door down and entered the room, Darnies right behind. With one twitch, his father had filled his mother's stomach with a scatter shot. Not to be outdone, his mother pulled out her wand- only needed for the strongest of spells and curses- and looked to fire a mirror curse. He'd bleed out the same way she did with the same bullet pattern. She didn't notice that some of the scatter shots had caught Darnies's right side, shattering his right knee cap and leaving wounds up and down his arm and leg.

Lying on the ground, Darnies became aware that he was now alone. His coven -The Last Existing Coven- had been taken out the previous year by a group of Hunters who'd burned them alive while him and his mother hid in the woods near their home, and his two parents were bleeding out on the floor across from each other. Tears streaming down his face, the young boy dragged himself first to his mom to pick up her wand, and then out of the room and called for an ambulance, a story already forming in his mind to explain the scene.

He couldn't heal his own knee- "Witches can't heal themselves, DarnDarn, that gift is meant to be used on others."- so he had to heal the normal way. And that would have been fine- had he not been captured by Hunters as soon as he left the hospital. It turned out his father had been a retired Hunter, and the ones that had burned his family alive had found and killed them in hopes of breaking the curse. When they heard of his death, they searched hospitals looking for GSW patients and waited for his release, knowing there was still one Witch left alive. They kept him for a year, torturing him for information and for fun. They liked to mess with his leg the most. One day, they left a rookie to watch the now twelve year old Darnies, and the idiot took his rune filled cuffs off to get a better angle for his crowbar, and Darnies's power surged forth and flung the man across the barn he was held in. The man died on impact when he hit the opposite wall. Darnies dragged himself out of there and far enough to call upon the help of the Dryads in the nearby forest. They saved him and cleaned his wounds, but his leg never healed correctly.

Now he walks with a limp and uses a latch cane. So with no parents and no coven, knowing he couldn't go into a foster home or be adopted without having to restrict his powers, Darnies dropped off the map. 10 years later and he's finally settled in Gravette, having been there for a year after constant travel. He makes his living through creating runes and talismans for other Supernaturals- being the last Witch alive means he gets plenty of business- and playing honest card games and collecting the bounty when he wins.

Strengths: High Endurance, High Pain Threshold-not including right leg-, Just barely above average Healing Rate, knows how to fight.

Weaknesses: Right leg, magic dampening cuffs and ties, large fires can cause him either brief pause or even send him into full blown panic attacks, depending on the situation.

Stance: Inactive

Special Power/Skill: Especially skilled at Wards and Charms/Talismans.

Other:

• He is very good at fighting, having to always defend himself from hunters.
• His mother's wand makes up the tip of his cane, and depending on which latch you press, one of the two releases the wand, while the lower latch releases the hidden blade, and the wand acts as the hilt.
• Lives in apartment 2-J next to Chasa

Name: Chasa

Age: 26

Supernatural Race: Golem

Ethnicity/Race: Ashkenazi Jew

Appearance:
Gray eyes the color of the clay she was made from and strong square features, at 6'2, Chasa can be rather intimidating, especially with all the muscles added on top of the height. She has a Chai tattood over her heart.

Personality: Kind and caring, Chasa can become easily upset by the fact that people are afraid of her due to her stature. She loves to play around and wrestle, though is quick to worry and apologize if she thinks she's being too rough. She's, over all, a gentle soul.

History: Chasa was born when a 12 year old Darnies, fresh from the Dryad's healing, realized he couldn't survive alone out in the world. Or rather, that he didn't want to. Didn't want to sleep in abandoned building alone, afraid to close his eyes lest a Hunter found him. He didn't want to sit alone and eat completely isolated from the world, too used to having his mother, 12 aunts and cousins around. The thought in his mind, he knew of only one person he would be able to trust implicitly, and that was a Golem that he created himself. It couldn't be like the small totems of golems he had created with his mother when he was younger; no, this Golem had to be fully realized with its Chai active and life breathed into it by his magic.

She came to with full knowledge of who she was meant to be, and had looked down at the twelve year old Witch who brought her forth with a protective fire in her eyes. He had passed out after creating her, and she walked day and night with him in her arms until she found proper shelter. She started a fire for warmth, amazed at the feeling she was sure she shouldn't be experiencing, and settled in to watch her Charge as he regained the energy he lost by bringing her forth.

It would be a couple years before they both realized just how much power he had put into her, how real he had made her. They already knew she could feel heat and cold despite being clay- though not as strongly as a human would feel the sensations- but it was when they saw she no longer had a sixteen year old's body; she was in fact growing at the same rate as Darnies, something that had not been heard of for Golem's before this. They were clay, after all, they were typically forever the age they were brought forth as.

She realized Darnies didn't just want a Guardian and a Shield, he wanted Family and in his hazy 12 year old's knowledge had imbued far more energy into her creation that any of his ancestors before him. She was more alive than any Golem before her.

When they arrived in Gravette this past year, they got apartments right next to each other and have been living day to day since.

Strengths: Enhanced strength, durable/tough skin, High Pain Threshold(Golems being made of Clay and all. She would be able to feel, say, being stabbed, but I'd like to see someone get close enough to try, and find a blade that could do it properly in the first place.)

Weaknesses: Emotionally weak/Gentle Soul, marring the Chai tattoo can render her anywhere from disoriented to comatose depending on the damage. Destroying it completely causes her death (much as erasing the Aleph from the Aleph Mem Tav of other Golem's would deactivate them.)

Stance: Inactive

Special Power/Skill: Learned quite a bit about plants both from travelling with Darnies and her own interest in them. She can point out edible and poisonous plants in a heartbeat, as well as being better at mixing salves than Darnies, being able to use the energy he imbued her with the finish the magical element without needing him to wait by her.
Other:

• Lives in Apartment 2-K, next to Darnies.

Name: Bonnie “Bo” Willard
Age: Appears 21
Supernatural Race: Vampire
Ethnicity/Race: Caucasian/Half Romanian
Appearance: Vampire tattoo is on her back, in between her shoulder blades. Just breathes skater girl vibes.

Personality: Bonnie is a tomboy from birth, cool-headed, always skatin’, maybe steals something from the local 7/11. She’s got that hipster teenage spirit. Bo is super friendly, talkative, a total extrovert, loves meeting new people and enjoys a good party. She might sound like the rowdy type at first, but she won’t fight unless someone gets in her way, or hurts the people she cares about. She’s a bit all talk and no bite at times (pun intended), but not for nothing, Bo won’t hesitate to throw some fists with the other vampires in the area if it means she gets a meal. She’s a bit lazy, doesn’t like to do work, and certainly wouldn’t go close to another educational system without a 10 foot pole. She’s also not the sharpest needle in the haystack, any kind of theoretical or big question conversations go right over her head.

History: Bonnie is a newly born vampire, and It’s going okay. Well, she tries not to think about it for the most part. The whole, sucking people dry of their blood still feels immoral to her, but that insatiable hunger for human blood isn’t so easily ignored. Bonnie was the youngest of 4 older brothers, and lived in Northern California for most of her life.

From the start of her childhood she was always one of the boys, constantly going out to the skate park with her brothers, she hated her name for being so feminine and insisted on being called “Bo.” Her mother’s side of the family immigrated from Romania after the 2nd World War, and she never really got to know that side of the family. Her dad wasn’t exactly the nicest person in the world, and would often force her mother to hide the Romanian culture from their kids. Almost ashamed of it in a way, there was a slightly bad reputation that came with it. Bonnie would never let that slide, however, and managed to get the folk stories out of her mom in secret.
She eventually got kicked out by her parents for what they would describe as “lazy and irresponsible behavior.” But she’ll never admit to it.

Bo would visit the skate park and stay late into the night, and that was where she met another mysterious skater. He was certainly vampiric looking, though she never really seemed to notice, and they hit it off, quickly becoming friends. Before she knew it, he had turned her into one of his own. Albeit, it was rather gruesome, and left her without a sire. She doesn’t like to think about that night.
Took her awhile to adjust to the idea that vampires actually existed. It’s been about two years since she was turned, and she was still struggling with it.

Strengths: Bonnie has the typical powers that come with the species such as enhanced strength, speed, senses, etc. She’s also charismatic, independent, adaptable, overall chill gal, hype man extraordinaire.

Weaknesses: She has the typical Vampire weaknesses. Sunlight doesn’t kill it just badly burns her, wooden stakes will stun but not kill, silver, quite flammable, garlic doesn't do anything, religious imagery only if the user has faith. She’s also lazy, unambitious and reckless. Doesn’t seem to care much about the whole ‘drinking peoples blood might kill them’ thing, though It might be rooted in ignorance more than anything.

Stance: Uncaring. Doesn’t understand the war, and as far as she is concerned, would rather just skate.

Special Power/Skill:
Advanced Speed - In a blink of an eye, she can run from one place to another in a split second. Even faster when using a skateboard or other method of similar transportation. There’s a sort of visible dark trail or dust that follows her whenever it happens.
Wall Crawling - The power to fasten onto and climb vertical and horizontal surfaces without falling.

Other:
Pinterest Board - pinterest.com/sunrayee/bonnie-skater-…
She enjoys playing pranks.
Technically homeless, lives in an abandoned building in town. Blames everything on the asbestos.

Name:
~ Neirie (Neer-ee) Sothorett (Sothe-oh-Rhett)
Age:
~ Looks 18 but she's actually around 1,100 years old

Supernatural Race:
~ Vampire

Ethnicity/Race:
~ Half Japanese, Half Scandinavian

Appearance:
~ She has very pale skin naturally, though she hasn't had 'natural' anything for as long as she can remember. But her Norse/Scandinavian heritage is most likely the cause of how marble like it appeared Before she was turned.
~ Her hair is a deep black with an ever so slight blue tint to it. After she washes it it will either stay completely straight, like her mother's, or if she braids it or ties it into a tight bun it will keep a loose curl until she washes it again.
~ Against her pale skin and black hair her bright icy blue eyes stand out even in the lowest of lighting.

~ She's of a somewhat smaller stature standing at only 5'3" and though her vampire abilities give her strength and speed, she's never had much in the way of muscle mass. She looks to weigh around 118lbs give or take a few.
~ She keeps her nails long and sharpened almost like an animals claws,
and though she paints them for fun, they're more of a weapon than a decoration.
~ Her magical mark is a tattoo of a Lotus Moon with the Moon phases below it.
She has it placed on her chest,  or between and slightly below her breasts.

Personality:
~ When around strangers or crowds she keeps mostly quiet and to herself. Always trying to keep an eye and ear out for any dangers or suspicious activity.
But when among close friends or associates (though those may be few) she's actually quite chipper and cheerful. She'll bounce around, soft giggles on her breath.
Don't think that that means she couldn't tear you limb from limb though, if she needed to. And she would do it with either a completely blank face, or a maddening Cheshire grin.

History:
~ Neirie was born to a Japanese mother and a Nordic 'merchant' father around the year 900. It was so long ago, she doesn't care or try to remember exactly anymore.
In truth her father was of the Viking variety, from somewhere near Uppsala. His family and fellow warriors made long journeys into Russia and Europe to ravage towns for unique spices, ingredients, materials, And slaves.
Upon one of their trips they came across merchant caravans. Her father took several of them for various uses. Some to trade or sell, some for chores like cooking and cleaning. But one, whom he took to trade, was different.
At first she seemed similar to other women he had taken from the caravan. But even after weeks back at his village, he could tell the other women seemed to shun her.
As it were they were from the 'Mainland'. And she was not.
A few years passed and as she grew close to Rorik, she learned his language and he in turn learned of her homeland. A beautiful large island with mountains, and trees like he'd never even heard of before. She told him of their traditions, rich foods and silks, of their warriors. It all made him want to aquire this great island. But he and his men would have to go farther than they ever had before.
Rorik, Nagi (as he had learned to call her) and some of Rorik's men, set out for the great island, trekking across the harsh environments or Russia and Europe. But as her father had learned more he fell in love.
Weeks after they had set out it became apparent that Nagi was with child. They were still months from reaching anything close to civilized and the more they traveled the weaker Nagi appeared to become.
After weeks of arguments with the other men, they agreed to help them build a shelter and move on. Still in hopes they could find this grand island even without Nagi's 'help'.
Back home Nagi had been trained to use a bow and had become quite skilled after Rorik helped her even more. They had found a quiet area to build near a small waterfall and pond. They had fresh water, fish and many wild beasts to hunt and eat. Though Rorik tried to keep up training however possible, the months passed easily it seemed.
Even though all the women had continued on with the warriors, Nagi had a long, but easy enough birth.
And so Neirie was born.
Several years passed in the valley they had called home, winters came and passed, some extremely harsh, others gentle though snowy. They had found mountain goats for milk, and continued to hunt and fish. Neirie learned all she could on how to survive. Bow hunting and gardening from her mother, fishing and how to keep strong and agile from her father.
Though her parents never saw the warriors that had left them again, they always wondered if they had made it to that grand island. And Rorik, getting older, wondered if they should leave their makeshift home, though a truly beautiful little paradise in itself, and try to at least make it to the island.
After a few more years. They decided to leave. About 4 months into Neirie's 18th year they packed what small belongings they had. And started to travel East. Not to conquer or attack the island as Rorik had once dreamed, but to perhaps find a paradise to live out their lives.
And then winter hit. Rorik had never been this far into the Russ lands.
One night in particular the blowing winds and icy snow drove them into a small cave like area. They decided to try and rest out the night.
As they slept though, their worst nightmare crept upon their sleeping bodies. Almost as quickly as lightening flashing, Rorik screamed out in shock. But only for a few seconds before a seemingly small figure dropped his lifeless body to the ground. Nagi and Neirie had both awoken, but lay frozen in shock and fear as they stared at the body of the man they loved.
Nagi suddenly tore into a rage and grabbed the nearest sharp object she could get her hand on. She nimbly threw herself right against the small figure, and slammed the object directly into it's chest.
Nothing moved. Neirie hadn't taken her eyes off the face of the small figure and a cruel grin scrambled across it's face. As her mother's body fell to the floor, a rage like nothing she had felt before swelled up inside her. She slowly stood to her feet, her black hair covering her face but her icy blue stare glaring from behind the strands
"So it seems i won't be able to kill you."
The bloody smile on the seemingly frail husk of a body twitched ever so slightly.
The body suddenly flashed away and appeared directly beside Neirie, facing the opposite way.
A harsh rattling voice came from the body "No, I'm afraid not."
Neirie kept her eyes forward, trembling ever so softly.
"How did you get this kind of power? It doesn't seem... Natural."
Neirie was barely able to think straight let alone realize this entire being was unnatural seeing as how it could hold a conversation with her no matter what language she spoke.
"You aren't afraid little human?"
The creature had disappeared and appeared again practically on top of her, breathing directly onto her neck.
Neirie tried to keep the shiver she felt down here spine as unnoticeable as possible.
"I just want to know how you got that power, i want it... For myself."
"So i can destroy you", She thought inwardly.
The creature laughed, though it sounded more like an animal dying.
"Well my little Darling. I suppose its time i had some help around the house."
Before Neirie could figure out what it meant, it dug its teeth deep into her neck. As she slowly sunk to the floor, her parents bodies were the last images burned into her vision.
She doesn't know how long she was asleep. It could have been hours, days, years even. All she knew is she wasn't expecting to wake up again. Ever. As she awoke and climbed out of a huge pillow filled bed, confusion was all she could muster.
She wandered around large corridors and hallways, for hours it seemed,
when she finally came to a large wooden door. Fearing she wouldn't be able to push it open, she firmly pressed her hands against it and pushed. The entire door, hinges and all went flying across the stone floor. While staring in blank shock a small figure came from the shadows.
"We're going to have to work on that Deary", the small husk from the cave came closer.
A snarl appeared on Neirie's face and as she was about to tackle the figure, it disappeared and reappeared next to her.
"Ah ah ah, Deary. Not yet. You'll get your chance one day, i assure you. But until then i have to make sure you're worthy to try and take me out. If you want my power, my abilities. You're going to have to learn. Only then will i let you try and take what's left of my life."
And so Neirie's training began. Years of meditation, fighting, honing her abilities. And years of planning, seeking the means to truly kill the man who took everything from her. While learning everything she could from him at the same time. Her first few hunts were difficult. And for the first 600 years or so she refused to hunt anything but animals. But then, around 1500, her master took her to the city. She had never seen so many humans, or lights and lanterns, or anger and disgust. Her head hurt so badly she couldn't leave the inn they stayed in for the first 3 days. And then as she wandered outside, she could smell fear and horror. So she followed it. As she turned a dark corner where any other normal person would have struggled to see what was happening. She noticed two men attacking a much smaller person. Are first she wasn't sure why they were fighting, and she didn't really want to get evolved, but as she turned away to leave, the sudden smell of pheromones coming from the men and the certain smell of fear coming from what she now realized was a small woman set her anger ablaze.
Her bright icy blue eyes turned a bright pink and her seemingly frail body disappeared from the alley and reappeared right next to the men.

Not having realized she had been in the alley at all the men continued to hold the woman and rip more clothing from her body. One of the man's hands was gripped tightly around the woman's mouth as they struggled, but when Neirie teleported to their side the woman's eyes widened in surprise.
One softly spoken word came from Neirie's lips.
"Stop". The men paused for a moment wondering how such a small person could have snuck upon them so easily. One laughed as the other continued ravaging the woman. One man reached with his hand to push the small girl standing next to them. Within a blink of the woman's eyes Neirie grabbed the mans hand, flipped him over and tore out his throat. Followed by grabbing the other man around the neck and sinking her teeth into his jugular. As she took her fill all she could think of was, i didn't mean to drink, or kill. I just wanted them to stop.
As she dropped the second mans dead body onto the ground she turned to the woman. Reaching out her hand, Neirie's face was almost childlike, she thought, as a smile spread across her face. The woman let out a piercing shriek as she tried to scuttled away, screaming Monster! Freak! As Neirie stayed where she was, hand still outstretched a puzzled look crept across her face. Her icy blue eyes shining normal again.
She was only trying to help? What on earth was wrong with this woman.
Suddenly, from a shadow nearby, a figure dropped onto the woman and her screaming stopped.
"No!" Neirie shouted as her master finished the woman off.
"Why? She'd done nothing wrong. She. She was only afraid?" A snarl crept across her lips in frustration.
"Because, My Deary. If they fear us, then they know about us, and if they know about us, they start to hunt us. All they are is fodder. Be a good Deary and go back to the hotel. We'll leave in the morning." He began teleporting the bodies to a nearby river. As he grabbed the last body another small word came from Neirie's lips "No".
Her master stopped, the womans body still dangling in his arms and he laughed. "No? What are you still hungry? " he threw the womans body onto the ground in front of Neirie.
"No. I will no longer obey you. I will no longer let you hurt innocents."
Her master began laughing hysterically in that gruesome noise. He teleported beside her and shoved his nose against her cheek.
"What are You going to do about it?"
Neirie's mind began to race. She was strong, but not nearly strong enough to kill her master. Not yet. But could she get away? Where would she go, who could she trust. No one and nowhere. Everything she knew, everyone was through her master. As her mind spun a million miles a second it suddenly stopped.
Sensing something was different, her master teleported directly in front of her in time to see a cruel Cheshire grin crawl across her face.
"I'll be back. I'll find you when I've learned enough. Become strong enough to finally destroy you. Until then. Just watch your back." And she disappeared.
Her master tried everywhere he knew of. Searched and sought. But for a very long time, it was as if she actually disappeared.
She had decided to spend awhile in the only home she had truly had. Back in the little valley, next to the waterfall and pond.
After several years she began traveling again. Searching for someone to train her enough to destroy her master.
She heard of Gravette and decided there might be a good place to start.

Strengths:
~ As is normal with most vampires all her senses are heightened. Speed, strength, agility, sight, smell, hearing, endurance.

Weaknesses:
~ She has typical weakness to fire and pure silver objects. However she never understood where the idea of being weak to Garlic came from. She never had an issue. Though she had noticed it become an issue only In the last 600 years or so. Maybe it was a condition of a certain Sire? Or perhaps just a condition of newer vampires, Being so far down the line. She's not sure. But she enjoys garlic. In fact she LOVES garlic. Its one of the few things she can actually Taste. She rarely if ever Eats human food. But when she does she also asks for whatever it is to be smothered in Garlic.
Other weaknesses include her feelings towards the weak. If someone were to use that to say fake an attack so they could get her close. She would try to help someone in trouble first.
Her master. Though she actually never learned his 'name' she knows he is ancient and powerful. She also knows it is for sure, or was at one point a He.

Stance:
~ Inactive/uncaring. As far as vampires or super natural beings as a whole she doesn't care. She isn't really for or against them. She'll try to protect innocent humans if she comes across it. But she doesn't go out searching to stop supernatural beings or save humans. But if it comes to her Master. She will try to destroy him. And anyone who tries to get in her way. And she's not against supernatural beings in general because she knows she needs to learn more from them and that there is a lot of 'good' beings out there too.

Special Power/Skill:
~ She learned the power of teleportation from her master, as well as, almost, completely masking her presence. Regular vampires are hard to detect yes. But she learned to specifically hide her vampire scent from almost anyone. Her supernatural presence of course cannot go unnoticed. But her 'blood' scent is difficult to detect except by the older, more experienced of supernatural beings. She learned to do so to try and hide her specific scent from her master, or at least the fact that she's a 1,000+ year old vampire. Other super naturals can sense her or her basics movements enough to know she's not normal. Especially if her tattoo is viewable, but what or who exactly she is would take a lot more practice and patience.
~ Though her skills in archery were mostly gained during her human years, she kept up with them during all her supernatural years. Having better senses as a vampire only made her love for archery grow. And she became even more skilled.
She owns a compact, compound bow that she carries in quickly attachable pieces in her Batpack.
Along with compact arrows. She cannot in fact turn into a bat, but she wears the backpack like wings, and she can teleport. *shrugs* 
~ After her long stint of centuries alone, Neirie wandered around civilization quietly for a few years. As she had been old enough to remember stories of the beautiful island her mother hailed from and her parents wishes to travel there before they were killed by her Master, she decided to make a journey there after her last century spent alone.
It was around the mid 1900's and she spent several years working, learning and training in a small dojo she had wandered across. She learned the language and writing of her mothers homeland as well as some artistic novelties. Manga was beginning to boom and she became in love with doodling sketches of her own quite often. She carries around a medium sized sketch book and a few pens and pencils in her Batpack. The notebook is filled with several pages of scribbles and some fairly finished looking work. She's only shared it with the person who taught her to read and write (as well as the fundamentals to draw) and only takes it out when highly stressed or when relaxing. Her art can appear very different depending on her emotions at the time.

Other:
~ Whenever she becomes extremely angry or emotional, or if its been a crucial amount of time since she's fed, her eyes will start to change from an icy blue to a bright pink.

She's never noticed it happen and no ones really mentioned it to her. So she actually doesn't know it happens.
~ Her teleportation is usually instant. And though she usually has to have been to that location before, she has once or twice teleported to places she's 'seen' rather than physically 'been to' before. But that rarely ever occurs.
~ Though she is Inactive/Uncaring in the overall war. If she see's or senses an innocent human being attacked, whether by another human or supernatural. She will try and stop it.
Doesn't matter if they're just feeding or what have you. If she's within sensing distance. And the creature being attacked its helpless or innocent. She will first try to stop the attacker/pursuer. If her last choice is to kill, or the attacker/pursuer will not respond to her or explain. She will go into 'beast mode'. All that can be said is no one has gotten away from her unscathed, once she's entered that mode.

Name: Call him Simon Peterson. Fae don't give out real names easily.

Age: He looks to be in his mid-20s. His actual age is... older.

Supernatural Race: Fae.

Ethnicity/Race: Caucasian


Appearance: He looks young and strikingly handsome - because he is fae, and the Fair Folk are notoriously vain. He appears to have dyed blonde hair (it's actually a simple fae glamour- it lasts longer than dye and can be done quickly). He dresses well, if not always lavishly, and prefers shades of white, grey, or black. His tattoo is on his chest above his belly button, and it marks him as being a former member of the Wild Hunt (which is why he is generally reluctant to show it or talk about it).


Personality: He's far different than most fae, a result of his prolonged contact with humans. He tends to swing between a little brusque and a bit of a flirt. One of the fae habits he never dropped is vanity and pride - he always does his best to make himself look good, and he takes insults and disrespect very personally. He's not above being petty or holding grudges, and he can hold them for a very long time. In his years among humans, he's learned to suppress his more violent fae tendencies and how to behave more 'acceptable' in general. He still holds many hedonistic tendencies and often can't stop himself from taking up any opportunity to indulge himself in any way, though he's tried to limit this habit by simply avoiding being near situations likely to tempt him. He's tempered the cruel and sadistic streak in him natural to most fae of the Hunt, but it comes out more when he's angry. He very much doesn't like talking about anything related to the Hunt and his involvement in it. One hobby he's taken up recently is taking care of plants - he was never one of the harmonious, nature loving fae, so he's trying to change that. He's not having much luck.

History:


Strengths: He's got traditional fae abilities (detailed later). Besides that, he is naturally stronger than a human - not by much, but more than his appearance would suggest. He's also a hell of an archer, though he prefers to never fight unless he needs to (anymore). Like most elves, he possesses a natural regeneration of wounds and scars, though it's not a speedy process.

Weaknesses: He's weaker to iron than other materials, like most fae. Surprisingly, though, the fae's infamous aversion to iron isn't as bad as the myths usually say; while fae can be more easily harmed with iron, fae can still touch and use iron tools. Iron does seem to hinder the fae's natural regeneration properties, however, so iron weapons are more effective. Additionally, this means most traditional medical equipment - including scalpels - will ironically make an elf's condition worse. Secondly, like all fae, he has a true name. Knowing his true name would make whoever knew it effectively able to command him to do anything. Of course, it's virtually impossible to make him tell you it, so it's not really an issue.

Stance: Inactive. He's understanding of both sides (he knows full well the damage the Hunt alone did to humanity, and humans have hurt the supernatural as well) and frankly doesn't care to be involved anymore. He did that plenty when he was in the Hunt.

Special Power/Skill: Like most fae, he possesses skill with Glamours. Glamours cover a wide range of things, but all of them have to do with bolstering appearance or how others percieve the user. Back in the Hunt, fae used glamour to appear beautiful and noble, even in combat. Glamour can be as simple as making oneself have different color eyes to making the observer feel inferior just by looking at the user to feeling as if the user could only ever be trying to help you (even if they are directly asking you to give them something for free). Glamours made the fae able to manipulate and trick many humans and is why many elves are so arrogant - it is relatively easy for them to take things whenever they feel like it by simply asking. There are rules - many glamours fail or are much less effective if the person is already suspicious of the user or knows the user isn't a regular human. Other supernatural beings are also less affected by glamours. Glamours can also gain effectiveness on people who fall under certain conditions. For instance, a fae who knows someone's true name can more easily influence them (which is easier now, since no one generally gives out fake names when meeting someone, though a fae's true name is far more useful than a human's). Glamours are more easily performed by a confident fae (and thus a fae who believes themselves at a disadvantage will also be putting themselves at a disadvantage by making their own glamours weaker) and a victim who isn't confident or considers themselves below the user will fall for glamours easily as well. Someone who is 'indebted' to a fae is also more vulnerable, though this one's a bit tricky; for instance, if the fae does someone a favor but the person says 'you are very kind' or doesn't thank the fae, then the favor will be treated as an act of kindness or similar, and therefore no 'debt' is implied (a direct 'thank you' is treated as acknowledgement of a favor owed, so be careful). Most glamours last a long time, and many fae permanently have at least a few glamours layered on, some for disguise and some merely to improve their appearance or influence.

Other:
He dislikes many cats. He claims they're not all bad, but many of them are too much like elves to be trusted.

Name: Vanja Janković

Age: 47

Ethnicity/Race: Bosnian

Appearance: Vanja stands around 5’8 and weighs around 150 lbs. He has blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He recognizes the importance of a good dress sense; situation allowing he is fond of a tailored suit and Gucci loafers. He is considered very fit for his age. He engages in various athletic hobbies including fencing, jogging, and he is an excellent equestrian.

Personality: He has been described as intelligent, inquisitive, and incredibly stoic; his perfectionist temperament is well known. He is not one that has time for many accouterments offered by life and lives a rather minimalist existence all things considered. Though the wild days of his youth are behind him, he is not averse to taking bold risks every now and again. As a mercenary he has led a great many large-scale operations, while not all were successful he manages to perform them without a tremendous loss of life. His profound personal charisma, intelligence, and adaptability have made him famous within his field; he is often entrusted with great responsibility accordingly. Those that know him intimately are aware that he struggles with the guilt of his misdeeds; he also has an emotional hole in his heart that he is never able to fill.

History: In 1973 Vanja Matija Janković was born in the Dolac, a small village that bordered the relatively larger city of Tavnik. It is located in Bosnia-Herzegovina which at the time of Vanja’s birth was one the six socialist republics that comprised Yugoslavia. His father was a foreman in the village’s match factory, a position that allotted him and his family a great deal of celebrity in the local community at; his father also held a small position in the local branch of the Communist Party which the man was immensely proud of. The first memory Vanja can recall about his childhood is the smell of the new apartment in Tanvik his family managed to procure due to his father’s political connections; being only three years old the move was unprecedented as in his mind as Tavnik was the largest city in the world, compared to Dolac Tanvik seemed like Belgrade itself.

This memory is a reminder of simpler times, times before all the turmoil and fighting. Most of all it was a reminder of her…Rakel Vilhjálmsson. Her family moved into a neighboring apartment when they both were around eight years old. At the time she was his opposite plucky and rambunctious, while he was shy and withdrawn; through their friendship Rakel managed to draw Vanja out of his proverbial shell and help erode his aversion to risk taking. They spent their youths traversing the countryside causing all sorts of shenanigans and assorted mischief. Vanja admired at the time what he thought was Rakel’s active imagination as she would say in hushed tones that the reasoning for her family’s unique names were that they were actually Bortbyting or shapeshifters that fled a dying Fey kingdom located somewhere in Scandinavia to avoid persecution. She would describe to Vanja different customs of the fey and their powers; she even suggested that she could change her appearance at will but was forbidden to by her parents. She supposedly taught him some of their language, but the years have robbed Vanja any ability to speak any of the words. Her proof of all of this was an odd tattoo she had on the back of her neck; she said she could manifest it at will, but Vanja presumed at that it was just covered by her long hair. Vanja never actually believed this as when he questioned his parents on the ethnic origins of Vilhjálmssons he was only told that they were fellow Yugoslavians whose heritage was cemented in the Great Patriotic War; as a child the Great Patriotic War seemed like a catchall adults gave him when they did not want to give him answers to a particular question.

In stark contrast to Yugoslavia and communism itself slowly imploding around him, as his youth progressed his friendship with Rakel only continued to blossom and it seemed destined to develop into romance. Even though despite being a young adult at the age of fifteen, Rakel held onto the eccentricities of her youth that were becoming socially unacceptable at this point and still retained quite an active imagination; despite her oddities Vanja could not deny his affections for her. To this day he remembers the passion of their first kiss and they way they were wrapped up in each other; the joys of young love. Though, it was an affair that was not destined to last. The year was 1990, and the young couple was seventeen; it was this year that Rakel informed him that her family had to leave country because of the perceived instability looming on the horizon. Her kind apparently was no longer safe here and she wanted Vanja to leave with them. Vanja was on the cusp of the first major decision of his life attempt to gain admittance to a prestigious university in Belegrade or leave with her to some unknown destination in the West. Vanja regrets the way he handled the situation he said a lot of harsh words towards her, he insinuated many things about her sanity and the patriotism of her family out of fear…fear of change. She gave him a brass pendant that was crudely inscribed with what appeared to be a compass and told him if he ever wanted to find her he only had to recite a few words in the language of the fey while holding it; at the time he was dismissive of her words and almost contemplated destroying the trinket, but never did and still possesses it to this day it. When he is feeling reflective he will take the pendant off the chain around his neck and hold it in the palm of his hand for hours, hoping against all hope that he remembers the words she instructed him to recite.

Although he failed to gain entry on his first attempt, Vanja succeeded in his second attempt in applying for admittance to university. He was known around campus as a troublemaker, he got into numerous fights both on and off campus ; while his devil-may-care attitude was frowned upon by the staff it did win him the admiration of his peers and during his tenure he was quite popular. When he graduated university in 1996 the world was a changed place, Yugoslavia had devolved into infighting and sectarian conflicts, while the communist experiment was officially deemed a failure in Eastern Europe. At age 23 on the urging of one of his closest friends they both joined a mercenary outfit that was hired to fight in the First Congo War. He never returned to Bosnia or any of the former republics that comprised Yugoslavia again.

The group of East-European mercenaries hired by Zaire’s President Mobutu Sese Seko had little effect on the overall conflict and were unable to coordinate with his forces as neither group spoke the same language. Because he became fluent in both English during his schooling Vanja was able to communicate with some of the other mercenary units that were under the employee of the president. It is here he met Roger Bonheur and was introduced into the lucrative trade of hunting the supernatural. Vanja earned the respect of Bonheur in a particularly brutal bar fight between their two mercenary groups, Bonheur was a man who enjoyed projects and wanted to morph Vanja’s youthful anger into a tool in his arsenal. Vanja was offered to join in on a more lucrative bounty. Bonheur and his group joined the conflict not for political aims or even for the meager payout offered by the President, but to extinguish a Vampire who had entrenched himself here. Bonheur and his men styled themselves Hunters for profit and promised shadowy secret societies of the religious type results in riding the world of God’s unwanted creatures. Using the cover of the civil war the group managed to track the creature to Kinshasa, where they killed the Vampire and some of his spawn without maintaining too many of their own casualties. Vanja was nonetheless shocked to find out that Vampires actually existed and almost perished himself in the fighting. Any innocence he retained died while the group hunted down the remaining spawn of the Vampire in the jungles of the Congo.

For the next twenty-four years Vanja spent his time honing his skills against a wide variety of Vampires, but he has also been called into assassinate regular human beings or topple a regime every once in a while. In his years of combat, he has become a capable operative in the field and is known as figure of ill-repute amongst the supernatural community. He spends his free time searching for leads on the remnants of the Fey community he heard about in his youth, but this has yielded few tangible results thus far. Even under torture most of these supernatural creatures are hesitant to produce reliable information. While, most mercs lust after loot finding his lost love has become Vanja’s white whale; he intrinsically is disgusted by his line of work and what he has become, but his obsession drives him to continue. He has recently been ordered by Bonheur to go to Gravette and lay the groundwork for an upcoming operation.

Weapons: His sidearm is suppressed semi-automatic Beretta 71 pistol in .22LR, a cartridge that suppresses far better and provides rapid follow up shots. He also carries a silver straight razor on his person.

Supernatural Target: Vampires

Strengths:

Marksmanship – As a mercenary he has a working knowledge in regards to a plethora of different firearms. He is more than comfortable using a gun and is known to have astonishing accuracy.

Underground Connections - Having been in this line of work as long as he has been, Vanja has procured some relations in the criminal world. He is able to obtain contraband and false documents rather easily.
Hand-to-Hand Combat (Above Average) – Vanja is also trained in hand-to-hand combat and his personal fighting instructors consider him a competent combatant with good form.

Indomitable Will – The rigors of combat have hardened him against great physical pain and psychological trauma. He is able to push himself to his limits.

Physical Conditioning – His strength, speed, stamina, senses, agility, reflexes, and durability, are greatly heightened. However, they pale to those with enhanced abilities.

Bilingual – He can speak Bosnian-Croatian-Montenegrin-Serbian (BCMS) and English. He is subconsciously aware of a Fey dialect, but has lost any ability to speak it.

Weaknesses: When it comes down to it he is a human being after all and he is vulnerable to all the same physical weakness that plague humankind; despite his physique a well-placed shot will cripple if not kill him. He has no natural resistance to magic. Psychologically speaking, his obsession with finding Rakel is certainly a proverbial soft spot. Offering him information or assistance in this matter would dissuade him from pursuing any action against your personage. He also just a hired gun after all and his loyalty to Bonheur has limits; their relationship is rocky on the best of days. He is a wanted man in some countries and has made plenty of enemies; knowledge of this might come in handy to one clashing with him.

Stance: Active. He is a hired gun, though as far as he is concerned someone else is responsible for pointing him at a target. It is not personal.

Other: He can play the Harpsichord on a professional level. At university Vanja developed an interest in the plucked-string keyboard instrument. He was encouraged to continue in this field, but ultimately refused an offer of becoming a member of the national orchestra. He would nevertheless keep his interest in the musical world and has been composing a cantata on and off for a few years.

Name:
Serrig Mythiar

Age:
28

Supernatural Race:
Werewolf and Lycan Mixbreed

Ethnicity/Race:
Norse Gaelic, Russian

Appearance:
Serrig stands at a lean but sturdy 6'4", with no lack of toned muscle. His mostly bright blonde hair is kept buzzed along the sides and back and either spiked along the top or in a short pony tail. He has bright blue eyes with a bit of a darker ring along the outside. He'll often keep a short beard or goatee especially if he's Hunting.

Technically Serrig has 3 'forms'. His natural human form, his Lycan wolf form, and his bipedal Werewolf form. His Lycan form is a golden wolf, with blonde fur so light it can almost appear white. This form has bright blue eyes.

Though this form is that of a more normal wolf, it is much larger and bulkier. His legs and paws huge and muscled.

His secondary, or Werewolf form, depends on how he transforms. Usually he is unable to control this transformation as it is due to his werewolf heritage, and will always happen during a full moon. His uncontrolled form, though done against his full will is slightly less potent than his berserk Werewolf form.
His regular Werewolf form is a bipedal, lethe, hulking, 8foot mass of black fur, muscle, fangs and claws. Though his transformation is not through his control a part of his mind is still intact so his eyes, though practically glowing with inhuman power, remain blue.

His next form he has come to call Berserk form. This form has happened more times than he'd like to admit but it usually only happens if he is under extremely intense amounts of stress, pain or anger. It's only happened twice when not during a full moon, and only a sparse amount of times during. Though every time in his Werewolf form seems to be a fight with himself for control, His mind and control are seemingly non existent in Berserk form. Oftentimes His fur and bone will tear and grow in even more deformed manner and he grows to practically 9feet with even denser body mass. Seeming to be formed of anger, destruction and mindlessness, His eyes blare a bright white.

His  final form is one he has been working on for years. Back before his mother was killed, she was working with him on meditation and control of his Werewolf form, so he could transform and use it's power and agility whenever he wanted. Also to train his mind to remain more himself. He isn't able to transform this way very often and it takes an incredible amount of time, energy and concentration. And it is actually easier to do so when already in his Lycan wolf form. But it is essentially the same size and shape of his Werewolf form except his fur remains a golden white and his mind is completely his own.


Serrig has many tattoos but they're all located on his upper body.
Starting with his supernatural tattoo, it is placed on his left shoulder blade.

Next is his right hand.

On his left forearm.

Right bicep.

Left bicep.

And last but not least his right shoulder blade.


Personality:
Serrig can tend to be immensely cocky and wild at heart. Though he can usually back up his comments, it has gotten him into trouble as well as fights more than a few times. Never one to turn down a fight or brawl, he lives for a good battle. How else is he supposed to learn and get better? At least that's what he always used too tell his mother. Just as stubborn as she was and as strong willed as his father. Back when the other clan boys would taunt him. Back when his only worries were keeping better control of his Werewolf form and where he could get his next meal. Not that he went hungry because his mom lacked the food. But he was always using tons of energy or so it seemed and that made him constantly starving.
Ever since the loss of his clan and his mother Serrig has changed. Though he still has trouble controlling himself when it comes to a challenge or his nights during the full moon, Serrig has learned to take a longer, closer look into planning and gaining wisdom before starting a battle. Especially after taking on the job of a Hunter.
So he can still often be found wide eyed and covered in blood, a pleasant grin on his face when fighting. But also a man of knowledge and strong will.


History:
Serrig was born in his mother's home village on The Isle of Man. Unknown to most travelers, this village had a long history and connection to many ancient gods and their ways. Centuries ago the village clan had done deeds and given sacrifices into many a Celtic deity. And in turn they had received gifts and favors. One of which was the ability to become intertwined with the soul of a wolf. So long as certain ceremonies were upheld, every child born of a member of this clan, would too be able to have this ability.
So it was when Serrig was born. Though his fate would be a tad different. For you see, Serrig's father was of Russian descent. And though That wasn't an issue for his mother or her clan, the fact that he was of pure blooded (not bitten) Werewolf descent was a different subject entirely. Though the Ancient Clan of the Werewolves were considered cousins to those of the Lycan, they were often considered more barbaric and blood thirsty, so viewed as more 'unclean' or ungodly. The Lycan Clans though varied among background and homestead, considered themselves more evolved than their bipedal cousins since they had long ago learned to completely control when they transformed And their minds remained entirely their own.
But love is love Senriel always used to tell her son. And once you find it don't you ever let go.
Serrig's father was a merchant sailor and was often gone on long travels to and from Europe. Being gone as often and as long as he was made many of the village elders happy, as it meant they would rarely have to deal with (or feed) his fathers Werewolf side. He and his mother were allowed to stay in the clan and the village, so long as no problems occurred. Though they remained, Ludvig, Serrig's father often stayed at their boat house near the coast whenever he would return from trips. So as to not upset the clan elders.
Ludvig often brought home gifts from his travels and for Serrig's 18th birthday he gave him a stainless steel necklace that his father said would now be known as their family symbol. Serrig has refused to remove it ever since he left home.

Growing up with the mix of his fathers cocky, titanium will and his mothers stubborn, never give up attitude always made life a bit chaotic for Serrig. He honestly tried not to get into All the fights he did, but he could never claim he didn't enjoy the fight while they lasted.
Though the village was modern day they were far from modern when it came to the clan life style. Being a village of all Lycans can be that way, even in the modern day. They had many modern things like internet and phones, but their everyday life and living were less so. They had only a small market for groceries and other house like things. And a corner store for things like liquor and cigarettes. But being that almost every village citizen could hunt and was trained to cook for themselves, hunt for themselves and survive for themselves from a rather young age. The typical modern necessities were rarely a thing.
Even so, Serrig had a good full childhood, despite the fights and most of the elders looking at him somewhat lowly. His mother worked at the corner store most of his childhood and spent most of her free time attempting to help Serrig control his full moon transformations.
Then, during Serrig's 22nd year, disaster struck. Of course all of the younglings were told of the dangers of the real world. That even normal humans could be very dangerous if they found out about the clans lifestyle and abilities. They had been taught and learned about humans who searched for their kind, hunted them. But not even the elders thought they would be so thorough as to discover and hunt down an entire village.
The day started Like most any other. Serrig woke late and stumbled around the house for a bit until he managed to find food to shove in his face. As his mind awoke slowly he remembered tumbling through the woods to his fathers boat house after another argument with his mother. She wanted him to start working an actual job somewhere as she felt his days in the fighting ring were working against their attempts to better control his full moon transformations. She thought the fights were bringing out his more violent tendencies, and that it was making his Werewolf form more chaotic.
  He grumbled heavily and opened one of the bottles of whiskey his dad had on the shelf. What did she really know? He loved fighting and he made Bank at it. So it made him less able to meditate, it wasn't like he had ever hurt anyone when the full moon came around. Not in many many years at least. The village had built an asylum for his full moon nights anyway. In truth it was more like a cage, but he honestly didn't care. He had all the time in the world to learn how to better meditate. He could do that once he was old and tired of getting locked in a silver cage every month. This way he got to fight, drink and have fun. What was so wrong with that?
Rolling onto the couch he pulled his phone off the charger, it was after midday so his mother would prolly have worried about how he was after so long. He stared blankly down at his phone screen for a few moment's. He knew he had left due to their bickering, but that wasn't anything new. Then why did he have 35 missed calls? Pulling the phone to his ear he set down the already half empty liquor bottle and listened to his voicemail.
Screams And howls filled his ear as his mothers voice came through, shaky and weak.
"I... I don't know how, but they found us. Honey they found us. You have to be strong now you hear me? You have to. You have to run. I won't let them find you. I love y.." A startling noise crashed through the phone and then deafening silence. Standing in shock he shook his head furiously to try and clear it. Run? And who are they? Who would hurt his mother? Or any of the clan?
He threw on his jacket and tore out the door. The village was about 10 miles from the boat house so he would me need to move quickly. He looked to the heaven's and sent a small prayer to Odin.
"Please don't let me be too late." He flung himself into his Lycan form and tore through the underbrush of the woods like an arrow searching for a mark. As he got within a mile or so of the village, the scent and sight of fire wafted across his senses. And the smell of charred flesh.
Pulling himself to a halt as he shifted back into human form he stopped at the edge of the woods behind his mothers house. Only the foundation and some walls stood, still smouldering in the sunlight.
His eyes darting around the rubble of his home, he slowly dragged his feet until he stood where the kitchen used to be. He could see down the street where the neighbors houses burned still, bodies and fur strewn across the ashes and leaves. It was almost Halloween and the town had decorations up. They too were burning, like some kind of sick halloween prank. He strode down the pavement into town, barely realizing he hasn't blinked since his eyes caught sight of everything.
Though deep inside he knew what he would find if he went to the corner store, he had to see for himself.
As he entered the whole in the brick wall where the door used to be, his breath caught in his throat. Struggling to choke back tears he fell to his knees next to a large mass of black fur, laying huddled overtop of his mothers still smoldering body. Apparently his father had returned late last night. He was early, he shouldn't have been back for weeks yet. Serrig pulled the lifeless bloody form of his father onto his lap. As he cried mournful howls of agony, he noticed a dagger still stuck into his fathers flesh. Stopping his howling he leaned over to pull it out, just in time for a crossbow bolt to fly by his head.
Rolling into a defensive position he held the dagger in front of him as he looked around for the bolts shooter. Two men stood in the road just down the street, with smiles spread across their faces.
"Well isn't that lucky. We get cleanup duty and there's actually some'in left to take care of. I thought the big boys got all of 'im. Guess they left us a treat." The other man smiled more boldly and pointed the bolt in his hand towards Serrig.
"Here Doggy Doggy, while the bosses are away, we get to play!"

Serrig never got the chance to ask who their bosses were. As soon as the man had begun to speak, Serrig began to black out. He could feel his body transitioning, and it wasn't of his own accord. The last thing he remembers is tearing into the most bloody howl he's ever managed and feeling a surge of power like never before. All he knows is he woke up the next morning covered in blood and ashes on the entire opposite side of the island.

After these events Serrig spent years training, meditating and learning everything possible he could about the ones who attacked his family and his home. He took over his fathers merchant boat and uses it to travel as well as his fathers good name in the business to get things and to places he needs in order to hunt every last Hunter down. He has become a Hunter, and those who would call themselves Hunters are his prey. He won't stop until every last one of them is dust, just like they made his life.
He's come to Gravette on rumours of many different Hunters gathering here.

Strengths:
He is a skilled hunter/tracker when in human form and he knows how to handle himself in hand to hand combat. He's also fairly good at sailing.
In his Lycan form his strength is about 10x stronger as well as his speed and agility. He also has heightened sense of smell, sight and sound, much like a wolf.
In his Werewolf form he's more like 50x as strong as well as having even stronger senses and the ability to use his hands more easily. His jaw and fangs are also more heightened in their abilities to tear and crush.
In his Berserk form his skills and strength are almost 80x his normal abilities and even wounds from fire or silver don't seem to affect him or slow him down much. But he will keep the wound once he returns to normal. Going into Berserk form isn't easy and has never been at his beck and call. So using it for massive overload in strength or skill is not easily done.

Weaknesses:
The usual silver as well as fire. Though he is more so prone to silver when in his Werewolf forms, his Lycan form is weak to it as well.
He has a weakness to being offered a challenge, especially if its for a fight.
There was an Ancient chant or ceremony if you will, that his mother used to perform when he was in his Werewolf form. A ceremony with Ancient Magics and words of the gods, it made his fur glow with Runes and was able to calm and sedate him. She used it most often when he was confined to the clans holding cage for him. He never learned it for himself but if there were others who knew it or could preform it, unless in his Berserk form, it could be used to subdue or even kill him.


Stance:
Active. Though he mostly hunts Wolf hunters, he's never against killing other hunters when the chance arises.

Special Power/Skill:
He has the unique ability, even among other similar supernaturals, to transform into a Lycan(large wolf), and different Werewolf(bipedal wolf) forms. That along with his Berserk form and skills as a hunter/tracker/sailor, make for a very hard to kill beast.

Other:
His clan, mother and father were all followers of the old gods. Both Gaelic and Nordic. And although he doesn't commune regularly, he will often say prayers and keep small traditions to the Old Gods.
Though he rarely speaks it at all, let alone regularly, he does know how to speak Gaelic and some small amounts of Russian.

Name: Kav Vilhjálmsson



Age: 29, though he appears to be in his early twenties.

Supernatural Race: Fae

Ethnicity/Race: Romani/Bosinian



Appearance: Standing at 5’10” Kav has a slender build. Kav carries himself like royalty with an air of pretentiousness; he acts like he owns everything and everyone in any room he happens to walk into. He exudes an aurora of unearned pride and pomposity, even if the situation does not warrant such a display. Even his body posture during daily conversations betrays his arrogance; his arms are usually crossed, and he only makes eye contact sparingly and usually only to display dominance. He is fond of overexaggerated displays of impatience such as rolling his eyes or audibly sighing. His visage is usually plastered with a look of smug assurance or haughty boredom; the type of looks that are highly irritating to most people. Prolonged exposure to extreme annoyance causes him involuntary facial tics. Despite his love of theatrics and the spotlight sometimes Kav needs to exert power in an interaction subtly; he does so by speaking slowly and deliberately, slowing down the pace of the interaction by making others wait for him to respond thereby giving his words more perceived importance. Kav has an androgynous appearance but leans towards the feminine side of the spectrum adorning his visage with luxurious makeup and clothing his body in lavish outfits. For Kav possessing an impressive wardrobe is one of the important functions of life. He loves making an entrance and luxurious attire are a part of that. His personal assortment of clothing only includes pieces from the World’s foremost fashion designers. The only thing he hates more than wearing the same item twice in a row is wearing the same thing as somebody else, he is known to pay designers heftily for one-a-kind outfits. His fashion sense to average person would come off as exorbitantly priced and needlessly flamboyant. He has an unnatural beauty that draws people to him like proverbial moths to the flame and similar to fire there is a high probability that one is going to get burned if one dare to get too close.

Personality: Kav lives a lavish lifestyle and isn’t afraid to flaunt it; humility and humbleness are virtues unknown to him. He certainly likes to believe he is the center of the universe. People (supernatural and human alike) in general are disposable to Kav, even those he is initially attracted to. There exists plenty of spurned lovers and friends whom he rid himself of when the initial thrill of the relationship subsided. Being as narcissistic and self-centered as he is, he is intrinsically afraid of failure and cannot accept even the slightest piece of constructive criticism.; he exclusively surrounds himself with flatterers and bootlickers in order to never be challenged. If he happens to not get his way, is upstaged, or loses he is prone to throw a tantrum. He has a reputation in the circles he travels in of being a selfish braggart, only concerned about himself. Being half-human and half-fae Kav never truly felt a true sense of belonging contributing to his self-centered and delinquent behavior.

History: Kav was born in 1991 around nine months after his mother Rakel Vilhjálmsson and her extended family fled the instability of Yugoslavia for the United States. The family eventual settled in a in a trailer park in Hinton a small town in West Virginia, where they attempted to integrate with the local culture. Though his mother spoke of him often enough, Kav never actually met his absentee father and is unsure if the man managed to weather the chaos that engulfed the Balkans at the time. He has never felt compelled to search for the individual purported to his father, deep down could not handle seeing this Vanja Janković character surrounded by a loving family, giving them the life that should have been reserved for him. For the three long years Kav’s mother held the naïve hope Vanja would arrive out of the blue and reunite the shattered household, but his father never waltzed in the door and lifted them out of the abject poverty they found themselves in as refugees living in a post-communist world. The real world was filled with storybook endings. At seventeen his mother had a carefree and untamed spirt that was not suited for the struggles of motherhood juxtaposed with those responsibilities that came with gainful employment. Much to the chagrin of her parents she refused to repress the wanderlust that is common amongst the Fae and conform to societal norms. Kav was four years old when his mother entered a rusted Volkswagen Microbus with some long-haired friends of Christ and departed Hinton bound for parts unknown; she would sporadically reenter his life throughout the years, though only for a few weeks at most before she would be off chasing some new obsession or passion. Last he heard she was living in some progressive commune located in the Missouri Ozarks.

After his mother absconded with the Jesus freaks, Kav was left to be raised by his assortment of relatives that made the journey to America. The lot of them were as glum as they were proud, in private away from prying human ears the family was in grieving over their loss of status throughout the centuries. His family once occupied a relatively lofty station in the Elvish Principality of Aedirus, which was a quasi-state that governed over all supernatural entities that inhabited Scandinavia from the end of the Wild Hunt to its eventual dissolution during the German invasion of Denmark and the subsequent invasion of Norway in 1940. The regime was recognized by the majority of those non-humans that inhabited the region and it passed laws governing the conduct of its denizens. Some supernatural states do exist in the modern age, but they act in a much-diminished capacity than in their heyday and many are nothing more than fraternal orders or guilds at this point; the reason for the decline in these entities stems from the fact that decentralization is advantageous to those wishing to remain hidden. Internal friction between factions in the Royal Court contributed to the collapse of Principality of Aedirus as did indecisiveness over whether it was advantageous to maintain a policy neutral regarding the warring human factions. The Royal Court narrowly adopted a wait and see policy, which ended in disastrous results. During the Soviet Invasion of Finland in 1939 the Court instructed those paranormals in the area to wait out the fighting and simply recognize the authority of whichever human faction seemed to be in control of the areas they lived in. This apolitical collaborationist approach indirectly cost the lives of hundreds if not thousands. When the German army invaded Demark and then Norway, which were considered the hub of the Principality the Court’s attempts to garner support against the Nazi invaders fell on the deaf ears of those in the provinces that felt betrayed by the earlier inaction of the regime. When the public loses faith in an institution it collapses and thus was the fate of Principality of Aedirus as even after the fighting ceased there were no real efforts from the scattered remnants to reestablish the dynasty.

The dual matriarchs of Vilhjálmsson the clan were Kav’s Aunts Annelise and Hulda; once Kav’s mother left for parts unknown they were left in charge of raising him. They attempted to install in the youth their unique views on the world and how it was improper for alleged royalty to mingle with those brutish humans for more time than was absolutely necessary; humans were disposable tools in the hands of the Fae afterall. They fostered the youth’s sense of superiority by rewarding his snooty, arrogant, cruel, vengeful, and vindictive behavior towards others. Though his Aunts were quick to remind him of his own inferiorities as he was in fact part human himself. While, Annelise and Hulda thrived in the small town atmosphere and enjoyed playing off the trashy local gossip, Kav always longed for the glitz and glamour that his aunts ensured him once existed outside the confines of the trailer park for those of Fae heritage even for halfbreeds such as him self.

After graduating high school, he boarded a Greyhound bound for Los Angeles where he was determined to re-brand himself and enjoy all the accouterments this life had to offer. Nowadays he’s more or less an almost Warholian figure of a public repute, what the youth call an influencer. He ruthlessly fought for his position for at the top and crushed a good many people under his bedazzled heels, while he indeed enjoys his life of privilege he is always on the lookout for potential competition to snuff out before the become a threat. He is the self-appointed Duke of the Upper-Krust a collection of obnoxious internet personalities that thrive on showing off their opulence to the masses. He is always on the verge of being cancelled but seems to manage to mysteriously weasel his way out of any real consequences. He spends most of his days in an expensive penthouse in Gravette with the other members of the Upper-Krust and other toadies who cater to his every whim. It is a fitting start to an entirety of pleasure, what could possibly go wrong?

Strengths:

Wealth – Large monetary holdings have always been an unspoken superpower in capitalist society since its inception. Despite his outward persona of recklessness, Kav is covertly preparing for an entirety of living so he has the best numbers people that he can charm crafting a suitable safety net for himself.

Celebrity – To be famous even internet famous is a gateway to numerous perks within society, most people are willing give the famous more leeway than your average joe. You ever whim is catered to by an ever-revolving door of sycophants and flatterers. Everyone wants you and everyone wants to be you. Granted you live your life under a microscope of scrutiny controlled by the whims of the fickle masses, but as a star you are admired even if it is only fleeting.

Trilingual – He can speak English, Romani, and a Fae Dialect that was indigenous to the Principality of Aedirus
Strong-Willed – This is something Kav apparently inherited from his deadbeat father as the man apparently had a reputation of being stubborn. Kav has yet to come across the man, so this factoid is unverified for the moment. If Kav really desires something he can usually grit his teeth and put his massive ego aside in order to achieve it.

Weaknesses: When it comes down to it he is a half-human and he is vulnerable to most physical weakness that plague humankind in general; a well-placed volley of bullets will outright kill him. As a half-Fae his natural regeneration of wounds and scars occurs at a much slower rate, though he does retain the benefit remaining eternally young. Kav is not physically imposing even by human standards, if forced into a fair confrontation with an opponent he would more than likely lose; his reliance on subterfuge, cheating, and counting on others doing the brunt of the heavy lifting are all variables open for exploitation. Like all narcissists Kav is intrinsically a coward when it comes down to it, if the odds are too stacked against him he will not think twice about cutting his losses and retreating. Like most Fae he has a true name and possessing this information would give you leverage over Kav.

Stance: Inactive. He cares little about the supernatural community and their problems as a secret society is not charity single material after all. Where were they all his life? Hmm? He made it, he is untouchable at the moment and that is all that matters. Privilege has isolated him from the suffering of others, and he is more than content not to change that. Outside of occasionally having to interact with those Fae directly related to him, he actively avoids seeking out those of non-human origins. He is more than happy to masquerade as a clueless human if it directly benefits him.

Special Power/Skill: Like the majority of Fae, Kav also heavily relies on Glamours. His particular brand of Glamours have to do with illusions especially illusions concerning his appearance. With enough effort Kav can alter his appearance to look like any humanoid creature that he has personally seen with his own eyes. As with any performance the more he studied the target he is impersonating the more convincing he can make the illusion; with time he can mimic vocal patterns and the gait of a particular person. Like most glamours, they are not intended to hold up to intense scrutiny; certain factors can strengthen or weaken the glamor like whether Kav knows the true name of those people he intends to fool for example. When “acting” has to be careful about exposing contradictions between his performance and what information his mark already has about the person he portraying; if the mark knowns that the person he is depicting is meek, acting confident would only serve to weaken the Glamour. Kav despises having to portray others and would only do so to produce sufficient black mail material on someone. He mainly uses his Glamours to bolster his already immaculate appearance.

Other : He suffers from acrophobia (fear of heights).