[CHAR] Blackfield Supernatural Consulting

[LeonVon]

Placeholder for future NPCs

[Bourgeoisie]

Adrian Kennings

Name: Adrian Kennings

Gender: Male

Age: 32

Appearance: Adrian is six foot exactly with a bulky build. His tanned skin is littered with white scars of varying lengths and widths. One area that is particularly noteworthy is his throat, which is covered in a myriad of scars, nauseating enough that he usually wears something to cover his neck. Adrian would be considered handsome with blue eyes, close cropped black hair, a straight nose, tight lips, high cheekbones, and clean shaven, if not for the wrinkles and lines. Despite his youth, his face looks weathered, and is hair is starting to grey, adding a decade to his looks.

Skills: Adrian was a hospital corpsman, a navy medic, serving with the Marines. Trained in battlefield medicine, the Marines also taught him hand-to-hand, how to shoot, and how to survive. He also has experience with special forces in the form of being a SARC (Special Amphibious Reconnaissance Corpsmen). This training include special forces training, diving training, reconaissance, and medical cross-training.

Personality: Adrian is quiet, both physically and emotionally. He often walks with a silent tread, unless he is under extreme conditions. Due to his vocal chords being mangled, his voice is weak and raspy, and causes him pain to talk for extended periods of time. The medic is extremely cynical, but also supportive and caring to those who he considers under his protection. He also internalizes the Marine motto, Semper Fidelis, Always Faithful, coming off as a loyal hound at times in his interactions.

History: After-Action Report: Operation Thunder Dust
Interview with HM3 (FMF)(SARC) Smith, [redacted].
Conducted by [Redacted] [Redacted], [Redacted] and [Redacted], [Redacted].
-Begin Recording-

[Redacted]: Hospital Corpsman Third Class Smith?
Smith: Yes sir.
[Redacted]: You know why your here Corpsman?
Smith:(Rustling) ... Yes sir.
[Redacted]: Good, we'll cut to the chase then. What happened to your squad?
Smith: (Deep Breath, a cough) Sir, I've already spoken to people from USSOCOM, MARSOC, CIA, MCIA, MI, ONI, hell even the fucking FBI and NSA sent people.
[Redacted]: Yes, yes, we know. We're here as... independent contractors if you will.
Smith:(angrily and confusedly) Then how the hell are you here then? Civilian contractors-
[Redacted]: (Static lasts for roughly five minutes, the only recognizable sound is a slight vocal rhythm)
Smith:-I had been assigned to a MARSOC hunter-killer team, rooting out insurgents in Afghanistan. We were investigating an Afghan village when shit when down. (Cough, clears throat) The village looked like it had been thrown into a meat grinder. Building were rubble, blood flooded the sand paths. Limbs, organs and bones were strewn haphazardly in the streets, on the roofs, everywhere. My squad consisted of six marines, and two corpsman. We were armed with IARs and M14s, and were riding on dirt bikes. We searched the village for about half and hour, and called in reinforcements. We decided to stay the night in the village, when-when-when (Heavy, accelerated breathing, followed by static) I'm sorry for that sirs, but continuing, it was a night that IT came. I had left the building we had holed up in to take a piss. The only reason I lived was because of Kennings-
[Redacted]: Kennings?
Smith: Yeah, Kennings, my superior, and the second in command, the only other survivor. He was on watch duty when the thing came. It was... it's difficult to describe it, it was like, like a hyena, but not. It looked like a cross between a person and a dog, but huge. It was over 3 meters tall, and must have weighed over a couple hundred pounds, and was covered in stained, coarse brown fur. I noticed it climbing towards our shelter, and alerted Kennings, woke up the rest of the squad by opening fire on the thing. It shrugged off the fire like it was nothing, and it killed one of the gunners before retreating. It spent the entire night playing a game of Cat and Mouse. The only reason I'm alive is because of Kennings. He charged the thing, and fought it, before shoving a grenade into the things mouth. The thing's head exploded, but not before he savaged Kennings. I spent the next hours performing field surgery on him. He's in operation now-
[Redacted]: Thank you, but that's enough.

-End Recording-

"After being discharged from the navy, I-I felt lost. Smith and I had been forced into retirement after their recovery, with a small pension and a medal of honor. That didn't sit well with me. I had been forced to sign an agreement, a fucking contract, promising to not talk about the events that had nearly destroyed my vocal chords. It's a fucking disgrace, my squad died for nothing. The corpse was seized by the government, not for research, but for disposal. So? I joined Blackfield. If the military and government won't protect their people from monsters, then I will."

[Bubsy 2]

"Just call me Eddie."

Gender: Male

Age: 47

Appearance: Eddie cuts an imposing figure even though he only stands at a rather average 5"8. Despite his rather meager height he's built heavily, muscular and broad. His skin is white, lightly tanned. His face is plain, not notably handsome, cloaked by a messy salt and pepper full beard with more salt then pepper which he doesn't particularly like but doesn't care to shave. His hair is black but graying, falling messily over his forehead but cut short around the back and sides. He would have a serious look, but the effect is offset by the easygoing smile that comes naturally to him. His smile is one of the few features that makes him stand out- straight and wide with no crooked teeth, and it seems to be perpetually placed on his face. This combined with his eyes, a striking and deep blue, save his otherwise plain appearance. Eddie is fairly handsome in that unique way that only comes after a long many years of life, possessing a very distinguished and intelligent look that commands respect.

Skills: Eddie's a veteran cop, having spent many of his years as a detective. He comes with the skills you'd expect- trained in use of firearms, able to analyze a crime scene, knowledge of police protocols, and an ability to crack a case. He's almost a legend withing his department for his ability to reopen cold cases, picking up on things other investigators may have missed. Besides his experience as a cop Eddie works out frequently so he's physically strong and has a large amount of endurance. He's certainly not a rocket scientist but as expected of someone with his investigative ability he's fairly smart.

Personality: Eddie is an easy guy to get along with. He's affable, easygoing, and charismatic. He fancies himself an eternal optimist, a quality some find annoying but he finds valuable. He's loyal to his friends and is always willing to lend them a hand. He has a strong moral code, refusing to do wrong and always looking to do a good deed. Eddie is an exceptional leader, adept at making people agree with his decisions and never hesitating when he makes them. He's a hard worker and doesn't like to laze about- he always keeps his mind focused on something and strives for perfection in all he does, even if he doesn't reach it. Despite his exterior he does seem reluctant to let people really know him. Although he is friendly it can be hard for him to share what he's really thinking or feeling, and he seems reluctant to talk about his past or his personal life. In truth although he may be hardworking and dedicated he has a myriad of personal problems and uses his work as an escape from them. The reason he strives so hard to always be doing something is because he'd rather not be left alone with his thoughts. He's faced some trauma in his past and likely has PTSD.

History: Have you ever seen something truly unbelievable? And I don't mean, like, "Me and my buddy Romero went down to the lake and he caught this monster Sturgeon! It was unbelievable." No, I mean something that really defies all logic, reason, and explanation. Most people haven't, not in truth. Well, I have. It was what would be my last year as a police officer, although I hadn't realized it yet. I intended to work on the force for a good, long time. But I guess that changed, as plans tend to do. The first time we got called out, someone picked up the phone, said the address, then hung up. First responders checked it, and then homicide was called in. When we got there the first thing I noticed was the stench- it was unbelievable. It very much smelled like death. Every man that walked in knew it would be horrible before they saw it. They were a young couple, just kids really. Their entrails were ripped out and strewn across the floor, blood and guts were everywhere, their lives dripping through the floorboards. It was quite honestly the most gruesome thing I'd ever seen. I'm not ashamed to say I ran out the room and lost my lunch- everyone else did. Sure we'd seen murder, but nothing like this. I guess I haven't told you the worst part- they were just torsos with heads. Yeah. Limbs gone without a trace.

That wasn't the last case like that. We couldn't find DNA, we couldn't find any evidence at all. It was the same modus operandi. The cut to the stomach killed them and the victims were always pairs. But the curious thing was that each time something different was gone. First it was limbs, then it was the torso, then heads, and then it started back at the limbs and around again. The cases kept coming. He- it, I mean, was called the serial killer of the decade, a mass murderer like nothing we had ever seen. But the truth was a whole lot worse then that. Of course it wasn't just some psychopath. Soon enough there was a slip up. A witness, actually. It was a murder like all the others, but a women said they saw the murderer forcing their way into the victims house. But she said something wasn't right- the murderer was naked and didn't look like a person. Not like a regular person anyways- she said it was like Frankenstein. Stitched up, parts sown together into a person. We didn't know whether to laugh her off or look into it- but we followed up, and soon enough we found reports of something similar that 911 dispatchers passed over, assuming them to be prank calls. We didn't really want to believe what all signs pointed to- after all, it was crazy.

Even now it still feels more like fantasy then reality. We established a pattern for the sightings, a list of possible locations where they could be coming from. They had been seen frequently around an abandoned industrial park. We investigated, and what I found... well, you've gotten an idea of what's happening by now, right? There were body parts. There was blood. There were four of those things chained to a wall. There were strange sigils, some sort of weird magic circle thing that looked like it belonged in a crackpot book about the occult. There was a table where these things were being assembled. Whoever did it was gone. As best as we could tell they were using the parts to make... well, for lack of a better term, Frankensteins. No one really wanted to believe it even though the things were right in front of us. When we called it in we were laughed at. Of course we were, who would believe a story like this? We made it clear we weren't joking, and then the feds showed up. They 'cleaned up' the creatures. Killed them, that is. They took away everything in the building and told us to never speak of what we saw. We actually never knew where they were from, wouldn't tell us. CIA, FBI, doesn't make a difference. They were men-in-black that gave no answers and left a very confused and frankly scared shitless department of officers to figure what the hell they had seen.

I quit the force later that month. Everything was different, I wasn't sure if it was me, or if it was the city, or if it was the whole world, but our work took on a different tone. We lived in fear of those things, not sure if we'd ever see them again. I couldn't just keep keeping on like nothing happened, so I left. I couldn't get the answer I wanted there, but maybe I could get them somewhere else. Blackfield Supernatural Consulting. I would've laughed at something like this before- it was ridiculous. But after what I'd seen vampire, ghosts, and ghouls didn't look so unbelievable. Maybe I'd find the answers I wanted.

[EurmalEye]

Kat Shepard

Name: Katherine "Kat" Shepard

Gender: Female

Age: 28

Appearance: Kat is a light skinned Black woman born from mixed parents, one African American and one a Caucasian from England. She was raised in England after he mother decided to stay in England with her Father and has developed a refined British accent. Her hair is quite curly, but she keeps it only down to her neckline. Any longer just becomes too much of a hassle for her to deal with. She got her Father’s poor eyesight and has worn glasses ever since she was a young girl. At the moment, she wears full rim, slightly square glasses that she finds look best on her. While she may not have the body of a model, Kat is average height and has a healthy body weight. She has never been much for fashion so on the job, she usually wears something like khakis and either a work related shirt or a shirt from one of her favorite television shows. She only makes an effort to prepare her outfit if a notable event is occurring, otherwise preferring comfort. She has green eyes and a slightly crooked, but warm smile.

Skills: In college, Kat graduated in about 5 years double majoring in both Computer Sciences and Electrical Engineering. She worked a while in the field before signing up with Blackfield so she is fairly well experienced. Kat is confident in her ability to program, help design new tech for Blackfield Consulting, research any strange phenomenon through certain select databases, as well as even a small bit of hacking. While she may not have any combatitive based skills, she is quite good at using her intellect to guide her out of dangerous situations.

Personality: Kat is quite friendly, raised to have been warm and open with others. However, she also has a fairly nasty streak of anger in her. Interrupt her during an important project or get on her nerves one too many times and she will have a hard time letting go of a grudge. For the most part though, she enjoys cracking jokes, sometimes as a coping mechanism to help her get through more dangerous or tense periods, and chit chatting about her various interests. Her favorite thing to discuss, however, would be Star Trek: The Next Generation and if brought up around her could lead to an extremely long and detailed, if enthusiastic, conversation. During her work periods though she is terse and focused on the task at hand until she accomplishes her goal.

History: Kat was born and raised in England to a nurse and a software engineer. She had a fairly normal home life, parents were always supportive, and at school she excelled, naturally gifted in her intelligence. When it came time to leave home and pick a college to attend she decided to leave her native country and head to America. She spent 5 years at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, MIT, double majoring in electrical engineering and computer sciences. She made her way through on scholarships and working nights at the school library in order to pay the rest of her expenses.

In her fourth year of college is when she had her first encounter with the supernatural world. She had been working the library later than usual and ended up having to head down to the very bottom floor. She was putting away books in their intended spots when the lights began to flicker vaguely. She went to the maintenance room to check out what the issue may be and when she came back every single book on the bottom floor of the library was off the shelves. They were not strewn about the floor in a chaotic mess, but stacked up on each at the very top of the shelves, some stacks touching the ceiling. Between the now empty shelves she could see something gliding between the shelves, something that looked like a swirl of darkness gliding soundlessly through the library alleys. When Kat saw the creature, it saw her. Pale somehow glowing human eyes emerged from the beast and a loud shrill sound shattered her glasses as she bolted out of the room. She could never bring herself to go back to the library, nor did she ever hear any word of a book out of place. To this day, she does not know what she saw there at the bottom of the library and fears that it may find her again for reasons unknown.

After she graduated from college she found excellent paying work at a software company. After five years working at the company, she was doing excellently career wise, with staff now working underneath her and several pay raises to boot. Yet she couldn't ever take her mind off of what had happened that night in the basement. Her eyes had been opened to the other side of the world that most humans ignored, the supernatural. As she was researching the supernatural online, she found found a small job posting from Blackfield Consulting. She had not had any particular luck until that moment, but something inside of her shifted. The next day she quit her job and began interviewing for the Blackfield. When she went to look for the company again, she could find no record of Blackfield ever existing. Her parents were flabbergasted at this apparent madness, leaving her high paying career to work for comparatively nothing at a no name consulting agency. Kat is new to this, but her eyes have been opened to the supernatural world around her and she wants to know more.

[T Risket]

Lancer

Name: James Lancer

Gender: Male

Age: 29

Appearance: Standing at just under six feet tall Lancer by no means has any real intimidating features to speak of aside from an ever present scowl on his thin and gaunt face-oh, and the dead shriveled black appendage that is his left hand, but that's not technically “his.” He also sports a rather hooked nose that appears as if it has been broken once or twice in his lifetime; his beady hazel eyes now forever staring at a slightly crooked sight. Despite his seemingly constant (and probably dangerous) rate of coffee consumption he constantly looks worn out and tired, “bags” beneath his eyes being a daily occurrence. Finishing off the dismal appearance of his facial features is his shaved head and oddly maintained 5 O clock shadow-although in truth his haircut is just an attempt to do something about the six inch bald spot on the back of his head.

For the most part he wears an peculiar mishmash of well fitting blue jeans and some nondescript T-Shirts he cycles through each week along with the same beige overcoat day in and out; he's also almost never seen outside of his old school pair of black leather Doc Martins. Despite the fact that his clothes fit rather well it is still somewhat obvious that beneath the thrift store acquired clothing is a somewhat thin, almost frail, figure.

Skills: Lancer has quite a bit of knowledge (both practical and nonsensical ramblings) when it comes to the occult: a skill acquired through both study and first hand experience-no pun intended. He is very much a walking catalog for deciphering “all those weird symbols” and “what the hell does this *insert deadly ancient artifact* do?” moments. His most useful (and if he was to be honest, the only reason he's not dead) trait is his left hand-the old withered and rotten appendage being far more than some sickening party conversation.

In most occult circles his hand was referred to as “a hand of glory”, although in Lancers opinion there was nothing glorious about it. The gnarled looking black fist is capable of a few neat tricks though, most of which simply boil down to unlocking doors with ease. Unfortunately the damned thing very much has a mind of its own-and it can be a very, very, bad hand. Lancer himself has never killed a man...his left hand though, well, that's a different story completely. Because of this he normally keeps his left hand wrapped tightly in a fist with gauze, often times claiming to be a burn victim.

Personality: Pessimist. Short. Angry. Pointed. Scathing? These are words “friends” would use to describe Lancer-and that's them being polite. Whether or not he's a “bad guy” is really more a matter of opinion but most can unanimously agree that well intentioned or not he is “a complete and total dick.” All that aside he is a rather driven man, although his focus tends to often become borderline obsessive. Not much of a “team player” his interests tend to lean towards the pursuit of knowledge and things that specifically effect/benefit him. It takes quite a bit for Lancer to truly care about someone in any real way; and even then he is quick to verbally tear into them-his best of friends dish it right back however.

History: Growing up in America every little boy and girl is taught that “knowledge is power”, a creed James Lancer lived the better half of his life by. That was until he learned over the course of one particularly eventful scholarship funded year abroad that knowledge truly can be power-he was also quick to learn however that some knowledge was even more than that, some knowledge was both horrific and destructive...and then some knowledge, well, some was just plain evil.

Needless to say it was impossible to return to his normal life: just the thought of sitting through who knows how many more years of school to get his doctorate while now knowing hidden truths were just laying out there just waiting to be unearthed-or worse. That fact combined with his newly acquired hand was enough to make him simply drop out of school all together much to his parents chagrin-up until this point in life he had been a straight A honor roll type student, the type of child that was expected to grow into an adult that would go on to do great and important things. Instead he spent the better part of his 20's like some sort of Fox Mulder wannabe-often tracking down obscure and wild rumors that rarely resulted in anything more then adding to his accruing debt.

Luckily(?) he found himself in one of those classic situations where he “knew a guy who had a brother who was friends with the son of a woman” who had apparently been having family troubles. Unlike most families though that argued over the TV channel or what to eat for dinner this poor womans family had been dead for years but still showed up for dinner each night, trailing with them the rot and decay of death-basically they were terrible dinner guests and she wanted them gone one way or another. Of course by the time Lancer had made his way halfway across the country and finally reached this woman whom he really wasn't sure even existed the whole event had been wrapped up and swept under the rug. He did get a name out of the rather grateful woman however; she was more then happy to tell him that Blackfield Consulting had quickly and quietly solved her problems.

Now with a name to track down Lancer wasted no time looking into the company that apparently specialized in the very area of work he had been fruitlessly chasing on his own. Maybe they were hiring?