”To ignore the past is foolish. We must take past mistakes with us into our futures so we know where we have gone wrong. That way, we can have a better future.”
Age: 35
Occupation: Currently Entertainer and Singer
Race: Timber Wolf
Gender: Male
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 230lbs (104kg)
Descriptive Appearance: Johann's attire usually consists of suits most of the time, both casual and formal ranging from blue to grey to black from plaid to pinstripe. Occasionally he can be seen in a t shirt and slacks but always with combed back hair and a devilish smile. His Deep golden eyes are what draw many women in, as well as his light accent. His movements seem rigid in appearance but are actually quiet smooth and graceful.
Personality:
Flirtatious
Polite
Quick Witted
Condescending
Bigoted
Egotistical
Quirks: Johann is a bit of a smoker so he is never to far from a cigarette no matter the occasion and paired with said cigarette either a scotch or whiskey and only brandy if the former and ladder are unavailable. A click of the tongue or a flick of the ear is his sign of agitation or frustration.
His beginnings originate in Munich, Germany, two years prior to the beginning of "The War to End All Wars". He was raised in the Wulffe family, a rather wealthy and known family in Europe as one of many steel mill giants in its western part of the continent. For years growing up he had studied many instruments and was apart of his churches choir. However, when Germany's Mark dropped heavily in value, his father had become quite emotional and stressed, ultimately killing himself. He left behind for his wife, Johann and his little brothers Eric and Hans his full estate. Despite this, he held anger and resentment about the Allied forces and his father's death as a result of their blatant negligence to Germany and its people that he slowly broke away from his hobbies and schoolwork, slowly isolating himself from the world. It wasn't until later on, when a new entity rose into power did he find new hope and new beliefs albeit the wrong beliefs.
Adolf Hitler, a strong and charismatic leader of the Nazis party, pushed the belief of a better Germany, a stronger and more united Germany than ever before. Like Johann, this gave hope to many and at first seemed like the new light amongst their dark present. Soon this would change for many and as such change the fate of Germany and the world. At a rather young age, he had joined the Hitler Youth program though, at the time it was under a different name. Amongst his fellow youth program initiates, he had moved to the top as a young charismatic leader, one who would be willing to do anything to better Germany. With the popularity Hitler was gaining it would seem that he was the right choice and so many joined his party. Dark times were still in their future.
Hitler had begun claiming that the reason Germany had lost the world war was because of subspecies who couldn't hold their own on the battlefield. Not only that, but the subspecies had control of most of the wealth, wealth that could have been used to help finance Germany. But they held it, saturated in greed refused to offer any for Germany's people and because of this, Hitler claimed that any relationship with a subspecies was wrong.
“The stronger must dominate and not mate with the weaker, which would signify the sacrifice of its own higher nature. Only the born weakling can look upon this principle as cruel, and if he does so it is merely because he is of a feebler nature and narrower mind; for if such a law did not direct the process of evolution then the higher development of organic life would not be conceivable at all.”
Inspired by Hitler, he had become adamant about joining his personal forces and soon he would come to rise as one of the best SS Captains Nazis Germany would ever see. Through his years he had eventually gained a family and kids but this history had been stripped away from him by him for the hopes of a fresh start after the death of his family and the learnt information on what Hitler had done with those of the subspecies class. He does however, still have his SS footlocker that has been kept in the closet of his home away under lock and key, a key in which he doesn't know the location of.
MAGIC SECTION HERE! Specialization: Telekenesis School of Magic Attended: Conjuration Primary Deity Worshiped: Zhadraunth Permanent Sacrifice: Y
Deity Sacrifice was made to: Zhadraunth
Reason behind Sacrifice: Did not want to remember the atrocities he had committed and the loss of his family because of it.
What was Sacrificed: Memories of the War and the death of his family
Equipment: 1x Fountain Pen, 1x Sterling Silver Cigarette case containing 20 cigarettes, 1x Checkbook, 1x Zippo, 1x Flask, Pocket watch and a wallet containing import information as well as $50.
Weapons: Knuckleduster, Colt1911 and a Knife
Other: As well as being a somewhat accomplished singer, he is also a well versed instrumentalist with a range of string, brass and keyboard experience under his belt. He prefers violin but has been seen playing trumpet, bass, and sax and on occasions piano, cello or trombone. He likes guitar but tends to shy away from it as he hasn't had enough practice on it.
Descriptive Appearance: Looks very similar to most Raven's, and is usually well groomed and clean. The only distinctive feature is the jagged scars under both of his light brown eyes. In private situations he's barely in any clothing at all, often just wearing short pants or underwear for privacy's sake. But in public, he's in the attire that he sewed himself. A one of a kind, highly detailed and decorative robe, with custom gloves and shoes that fit his talons. His wings can be concealed in his robe but often they're not, as it's slightly uncomfortable, the robe has slits in the back, for the wings. With an intricate golden garment around his neck and a golden mask, completely covering his appearance. Both golden items were given to him by his girlfriend, he seldom wears anything else.
Personality: The Good
Perceptive
Resourceful
Compassionate
High-minded
Intelligent
The Neutral
Self-conscious
Reserved
The Bad
Demented
Morbid
Guilt-Ridden
Over-imaginative
Possessive
Quirks: Often fidgets with his talons, like tapping them for no particular reason. Cannot look at people in the eyes when lying. Seldom gets sick. Occasionally hallucinates hearing his sister's voice and responds making it appear that he's talking to himself. Likes the smell of dead bodies.
Alexander lived with his wealthy family in New York City, with his older sister who he had a rapidly growing obsession for and his constantly abused arsonist younger brother who committed manslaughter. Alexander didn't make friends and was fucked in the head even as a child. His mother died when he was ten, which turned the father into a drunken abusive lunatic who blamed the younger brother. He became a writer and got successful a young age, thanks to his sister. Brother was killed in car crash at 14 and his sister starting dating somebody around the same time. Which made Alexander jealous and believing his sister was changing. Causing him try to learn about the occult and magic for years and eventually sought out the god of telekinesis, suffering unintended consequences when a permanent sacrifice, made his sister vanish from the world. He blamed the boyfriend for his mistake and went to his house and killed him, not before getting injured. (his scars.) He then completely fucked with his own mind, and removed his memories of the murder and his sister disappearance, causing him to hear voices of her and project her images on inanimate objects. Found his girlfriend a year ago and now is living happily ever after off the novels he made, most being about his sister attempting to immortalize and indulge in his sexual fantasies, disregarding how completely fucking mental he is.
Alexander was born into a rather wealthy household in the middle of new york city. His mother was a founder of a civil rights organization and the father operated several factories in the automotive industry, which also eventually supplied materials and goods for the war efforts. Both of them made a six figure salary but were frequently very busy. Which left his older sister the responsibility to spend most of her life raising him as an infant. He and his family stayed healthy and well off. He was also home-schooled for most of his early life, usually by hired tutors or his older sister. Often kept to himself and didn't talk to any of the other kids his age. Preferring to read books and attempting to write his own stories alone than going to play outside. The only place outdoors that he enjoyed visiting was the graveyard, which was one of the early signs that he was different than most kids.
But that didn't mean he didn't empathize with other people, as the majority of the time he was able to spend with his mother, he would be assisting her with various charity works. She taught him at a young age to sew and mend clothing that they would donate to poor families that needed it, also teaching him to value his possessions because they could disappear before you knew it. He didn't fully understand his mother's advice at first but learned to enjoy the time they spent together as it started increasing as he got older. His mother started to work less and spend more time doing charity work and staying at home, which was all she did after getting pregnant. Alexander would often show his mother the stories he had wrote which she encouraged him to continue doing. Unfortunately, learning her lesson the hard way, when his healthy mother unexpectedly died after birthing his new younger brother. Only two days after Alexander's birthday, as he had just turned 10 years old.
Despite the hardship of losing his mother, his older sister helped him move on and also helped raise the younger brother. Alexander didn't hate his younger brother, promising to help his older sister care for him. However, the father's health started to rapidly decline after his wife’s passing. But he still ignored his own doctor's concerns to continue his work, he couldn't help but have feelings of resentment of the child while also feeling personally responsible for not being able to spend enough time with his wife, causing him to spiral into a deep depression and become addicted to drugs. Which made Alexander's life very troublesome, watching his dad crumbling into a hollow shell and then mentally abusing his younger brother, often telling him that his birth was a mistake and that he was at fault for his wife's death, while he was high on drugs. Watching his sister do her best to smile always like her mother, spending all her free time caring for them and reading bedtime stories to the younger brother, like she would for him when he was younger, then went to her room where she wept for hours until exhaustion set in. Alexander would often creep out of his bed and watch her silently as possible, often thinking of how beautiful she was, doing his best to behave and never cause her trouble.
A couple of years at that home, that he spent his whole life living in, felt like an eternity in a prison. The father eventually surrendered his position to his best friend from his school years. Making the father do nothing but abuse drugs, only growing more destructive and angry to everyone unlucky enough to be in his prescience. The younger brother was especially targeted, being constantly physically beaten, which made him often rebel and cause trouble around the neighborhood and at home. The only enjoyment Alexander could find in the world was the time he spent with his older sister and when he would write his stories. When he was just 13 years old, his older sister carefully read and took one of his stories, a romance story between two that could never be together. She believed it was good enough to be published and sent it to as many publications as possible under a pen name, using an abbreviation of her first name and her mother's maiden name.
This proved to be an overwhelming success and was quickly taken up by a publisher. Throughout the process she pretended to be the writer of the story, figuring they'd be turned off by the age of the real writer. It was quickly distributed, becoming talked about everywhere and soon became very popular, even breaking records on how many books were sold by a first time author. Alexander was only told after she had confirmation that it was going to be published, she convinced him of her plan and her excitement was all he needed to be happy. She however kept the everything very secretive and didn't allow herself or her brother to become known, which only made the buzz about the mysterious literary genius to spread further. Not long after all the success the first book brought, the father finally died from a heart attack from the rampant drug abuse and stress from the loss of his wife. The extensive life insurance policy was considered the only positive thing he had done for them in years. The older sister moved them out of that house soon after they held the father's funeral, which was surprisingly brimming with his many friends from the factories, many that Alexander and his siblings had never even met before.
When the world war finally started, Alexander was 14 and they lived in a much more modest home. Where he began writing his second story, mostly to cope with his changed life, a sequel to his previous book, which he completed in a matter of months. It was also successful and lead him to start writing several different novels at once. While his younger brother slowly grew to become an arsonist, setting many things ablaze without ever getting caught. Only Alexander knew anything about it, as the younger brother confided in him one night, that the family of 4 that died while asleep in a blazing house-fire just across the street was actually his doing. Alexander promised to keep it a secret from his sister and everyone else, since the brother promised to stop. Alexander knew he was the only one that kept his promise. Once his third book was published, his younger brother had been tragically been in a hit and run with an automobile.
His older sister, within a month of the event started going out with a guy, often leaving Alexander alone to write. Though, every time Alexander met the guy, Alexander loathed him, hated how he looked, smelled and even how he sounded and especially how he behaved toward him and his sister. She deserved better, she deserved me. He knew her better than anyone is exactly what he'd tell himself every night, finishing his fourth book which was notably darker than his previous work which made it more controversial and less successful. Stopping him from writing, spending his time growing angrier that his older sister started to change into a different person the longer she spent with the guy, learning through a conversation he wasn't suppose to hear that the guy didn't care for her at all and only wanted the money she made. This infuriated him, shouting out instead of sleeping at night, as she'd be gone for days at a time. He started masturbating to pictures of her from back in the day just to get to sleep. Spending his days trying to think of ways of break them up but he could tell how hopelessly in love his older sister was.
When Alexander was 16, he started heavily studying the occult and learning about magic, attempting to spend days without sleep, self teaching himself abilities. Being as intelligent as he was, he learned of his magical prowess quickly, focusing solely on telekinesis and eventually taking time to seek out those more experienced than him to instruct him further. The ongoing war was the least of his problems as far as he was concerned, since his sister was becoming unrecognizable and the most words they had spoken to each other was on his 17th birthday, she was confessing that they were planning on getting married. Desperately searching for higher power, by some twisted miracle he was able to come into contact with the god of telekinesis, Zhadraunth. With his animosity fueling the words spoken, he was finally given what he desired, or so he'd thought. Soon learning of his grave mistake, discovering that his older sister had vanished without a trace, he knew what his sacrifice cost him. He spent the rest of that night sobbing and screeching himself hoarse.
The thoughts of revenge clouded Alexander's head, he couldn't possibly move on without his sister, refusing to forgive what the man had done, blaming him for all his suffering. Not taking him very long to locate the man and punish him. However, it took more effort than he thought to actually hurt someone else and it lead to him getting deep cuts under both eyes, as the man attempted to carve into them with his claws, during their violent brawl. Alexander's movements weren't based on thought, he had barely even realized that he had killed him, until he noticed all the blood covering him. But strangely the reality sinking in on what he had done, soothed him and calmed his mind down. Simply returning home to wash off the blood and get a good night sleep.
The following morning, he truly realized what a monster he'd became but feared turning himself in for his crimes. Instead deciding to live a normal life that his mother and his sister would have wanted. He lived on his own in secret, though his neighbors had discovered it fairly quickly, they pitied him and decided to just watch over him until he was 18. Since he refused to go to an orphanage since he had no other real family and he wasn't legally aloud to live on his own. He spent that year writing a book solely about his sister, titling it using her name, finding a publisher and revealing himself as the true author, even putting his real name on the cover, which was published and became another success. He told himself he had immortalized his sister in his writing.
Unfortunately, his desire for his sister remained stabbed into his brain, impossible to remove, deciding he'd use his telekinetic abilities to attempt something that he'd never tried before, a highly advanced form of telekinesis, mental manipulation. His efforts were to change his very memories and forget that she ever died at all and completely forget the murder that he had committed. He had succeeded in his goal, forgetting that his sister ever disappeared and even that he murdered her lover but in turn completely screwed around with his brain, causing him to have frequent illusions of his sister. His guilt didn't go away, still deeply felt like what he had done in his past was unforgivable.
Spending the next few years of his life still living comfortably from the money he was making from his novels. While indulging in his fantasies and trying to help those in need, donating money to charities and sewing clothing, like he used to do with his mother and give them to the poor and even somehow found himself a girlfriend, quickly falling in love with each other. At age 21, he decided that he would create an outfit for himself, believing he was special. His girlfriend learned about his plans and crafted him some accessories to go along with his outfit. He cherished the hard work he put into the final product and loved what she had created. Deciding to wear it every single day to show his girlfriend that he appreciated her. Plus, his older sister always complimented how sexy he looked when he wore it. A whole year had passed and he never went outside anymore without it. It should go without saying that his days even after the war, were anything but normal.
Specialization: Telekinesis
School of Magic Attended: Conjuration
Primary Deity Worshiped: Zhadraunth
Permanent Sacrifice: Yes.
Deity Sacrifice was made to: Zhadraunth
Reason behind Sacrifice: His older sister was about to be married to someone who was only using her for money. She was also changing from the sister he loved. (Like, really loved.) So, through growing frustration for something he could never have, that he greatly obsessed about. While growing a deep hatred for this man, that was destroying his sister's life. He refused to let her be married to such a man and was desperate to stop them. He demanded for the power to stop his obsession and their marriage. Trying to convince the god, that with his intelligence, that he could use his bestowed powers better than anyone else. Bartering with his writing abilities, that he'd be able to vastly spread praise of the god and offered to become a disciple. Only meaning to stop being madly in love with his sister and desiring to give her a happier life, that he believed she deserved.
What was Sacrificed: His Older Sister. (His obsession.)
Equipment: His pouch containing multiple throwing knives, a hefty sack of coins, and a small ruby ring which he gave his sister for her birthday that she used to always wear.
"I was the light, I was the quiet heart...What have I become? Something else inside...”
Age: 26
Occupation: Radio Host/Entertainer
Race: Wolf
Gender: ♀ Female
Height: 5'0" (1.55m)
Weight: 105lbs (48kg)
Descriptive Appearance: Her hair always looks like she just got out of bed. Sometimes her eyes illuminate brightly in the sunlight and even pierce through the dark. Also possessing unnaturally bright teeth and has a heart tattoo on both of her ears. She was born with a small triangle-shaped purple birthmark just above her belly button, exactly like her mother's. She prefers wearing warm and soft casual clothing, indoors and outdoors. Almost always in pristine condition when she goes outdoors. Almost never puts on socks and usually is wearing sandals outdoors. Sometimes wearing jewelry, like hand bracelets and necklaces, usually handmade with religious designs.
Personality: The Good
Optimistic
Sincere
Polite
Communicative
Selfless
Playful
Neutral
Religious
Maternal
Sensitive (Senses)
The Bad
Lustful
Softheaded
Vulnerable
Insecure
Childish
Quirks: Sometimes speaks about herself in 3rd person. Has a habit of sucking on her paw, usually when nervous about something. Really loves cherries. Refuses to curse, and gets upset when others do it. Has very ticklish sides. Says a small prayer before she eats or drinks anything.
Her mother was growing entertainment star and died from her birth, the father was suicidal recovering alcoholic and gambler, who decided to turn a new leaf once he discovered he had a daughter. Which after many hardships and entire early life being cared for by his wive's family who loathed him. She meant the world to him and kept him going, making a full recovery in one more year, getting a job as an officer and moving himself and his daughter into his long lost friends place. (who became her uncle.) Eventually getting well off enough to purchase a home and life was good, even learning about his wife's magical power from her mother on her death bed. But made his daughter promise to not use magic. She became a radio personality. But problems occurred, as people the father used to gamble with and borrow money from, asked for him to pay up for more and more and threatened to kidnap his daughter otherwise. He eventually refused and though she was told to keep it a secret, she eventually told her uncle about it.
One night, the four men invaded their home and held the dad at gunpoint, the daughter was able to not be seen and eventually turned invisible from fear. The father killed two of the men but had his arm broken and eventually was shot in the back of the head, right in front of his daughter. She was frozen, watching them flee. That night, the god of light appeared before her and made her sacrifice her innocence. She went to their home through the window and killed them both with her fathers gun while asleep. The uncle arrived there, about to arrest them for other crimes he discovered through investigation, taking her and telling her to flee to New York and that'd he'd cover up her thoughtless crimes.
She lived a (mostly) normal life in New York during the war, getting herself an apartment with her radio job. Finding her boyfriend during a lonely night, through a sexual experience that she started doing with him every night. Admitting what she done and discovering his many quirks, which only made them closer. Deciding he was the one that made her feel like "the light" her father always called her and decides to disregard them.
The birth had drastic effects on two people's lives, the mother was a growing movie star, getting many small parts and also starred in her own talk radio program, discussing the latest fashion trends and best places to shop. Despite some stress problems, she was mostly healthy. But she had some serious complications with the birth, but she demanded they save her baby. They did, but the mother wasn't as lucky, she died the moment after she was told the gender of the child. The father was gambler and a recovering alcoholic, both jobs he did very poorly at. He was very depressed and on the verge of suicide. He had been fired from his job and couldn't seem to get another. They had been arguing every day for about a year and they were about to get a divorce, but when she discovered the pregnancy. She stayed with him and told the father to get his act together to care for this child. From that moment, the father seemed to have an epiphany as he held his baby girl in his arms for the first time...
Her early childhood was difficult, not because of her being cared for primarily by his recently deceased mother's mom and family. But for the father and his attempt at redemption. As they deemed the father to be a deadbeat, not worthy of her or capable of caring for a kid, hating him immensely. The father tried to deny their help and demanded they let him care for his child, since they never helped her or him since they've been together. But the woman threatened to call child services and send her to an orphanage if he tried anything and said unless he got a solid job and cleaned up his act, he'd never have custody of his child. There wasn't a day she didn't see her dad crying for entire year. The father personally struggled, unable to find a consistent job, failing to stop his addictive impulses, screaming at himself too much at night to get an ounce of sleep. But he struggled on for her, considering her the light that would keep him in this world. Every time he looked at her face, he felt a little bit better, if only for a moment.
The next year could only be described as unbelievable, the father had pulled off a complete 180, not only finding a job but from an old friend he lost contact with from school, getting him into a specialized police academy training program. He was able to get into a respectable and high paying job, and he was able to make some friends from the station. The friend even allowed him to stay in his guest house and bring his child there, the first time they were able to live together. It was best year he had in quite a long time, and Alyssa was finally able to spend time with her father. He had unofficially made the friend, her uncle and he accepted it. Alyssa would spend a lot of time with him as well when the father was busy with work, getting used to addressing him as uncle.
The rest of her childhood went pretty smoothly, happily playing with her uncle and all the nice folks at the police station, and would spend time with her father, who would always tell her how proud she made him, how much she meant to him and how she was a beautiful light that deserves to shine brightly. She always smiled when her father spoke to her. She was happy and friendly to others at school, not even the bullies seemed to mess with her and when someone mentioned her father in a negative light and made her cry, they apologized and shared their lunch with her. The wife's family even eventually softened up and made peace with the father. She had a select group of friends that she'd hang with to make arts and crafts inside the school during recess and never got into any trouble. The father had been doing well in his career and had been sober ever since then.
Her teen years were mostly peaceful as well, the father had finally had enough money saved up to pay for a place of their own and pay her uncle for everything he did for them. She was learning about her mother and getting interested in the radio business, practicing all the time and listening to it often, deciding that was going to be her career. The father only encouraged her and didn't really ever say no, allowing her to get tattoos on her ears on her birthday to impress her friends. The very next day the father had also discovered from the wife's side of the family, that his wife's mother passed away, she revealed a secret that his deceased wife had incredibly powerful magic. Learning about magic he decided to attempt to teach himself and his daughter with the limited information he could find from books written about it. They both learned that she had shared her mother's magical abilities...but fearing this would lead to problems the father stopped pursuing it quickly and pleaded she'd not use it and that she was perfect the way she was. She promised him she wouldn't use them and kept that promise for years.
She was 18 years old, she started her job and her mother's old connections offered to give her a chance in the entertainment industry, as a guest co-host on a popular radio show. The flood of extremely positive reception they received, allowed her to quickly become a permanent member. This is where problems began arising, several men one day knocked on their door when they were about to have dinner. From the grave look her father gave, she knew this meant trouble. The several men that her dad gambled all those years ago and borrowed money from, came to ask for their money, obviously with some extra tax involved. They knew he made decent money and wanted to take every cent they could. The father did pay a portion of it the first time, but refused to pay any further. Refusing to be extorted for any more, but despite the pleas from his daughter to do something. He told her to not say a word of any of this to anyone at the station. This lead to extra stress and the father losing sleep and she could no longer stand seeing her father hurting and spoke to her uncle about them in secret, which lead to him to privately investigation the men.
But it was too late, on an unfortunately busy night for the police. The father who just couldn't sleep from the nightmares he'd been recently having, hearing their clock strike midnight, looking out the window he was able to see several cars driving up to the side of their house. The father had kept secret that they had threatened to kidnap his daughter for ransom if they needed to do so, to get the money he owed them. He grabbed his gun and rushed into his daughter's room to wake her up. Warning her to be quiet and go with him through the back entrance and go straight to their next door neighbors house. Knowing they left their sliding door unlocked and that they could open the back door and get help. She was scared but followed behind her father toward the back entrance, but several men already broke into the house at this point, all carrying loaded guns.
When the father ran past a corner of his house, one of them shouted at him to freeze or he'd blow his head off. The father stopped his daughter from being seen and motioned with his hand for his daughter to stop and hide in the closet nearby, she quickly hid like she was told going into the corner behind a bunch of other object and tried to stop herself from making any sounds from her crying. Four separate men had guns trained on him, forcefully taking him into the living room of his house, taking his gun and begin interrogating him. Asking where his safe was and where his daughter was, punching him when he didn't respond. He lied and said that the daughter was staying at a friends house. He sent one of them to look for her, as he immediately headed to the hall they were found. She could hear the footsteps coming, she trembled with fear and curled up, unknowingly using her magic to become invisible. Until the closet door was opened before she could even think about blocking it with the junk inside it, she looked the man straight in his eyes, completely frozen, seeing him leave made her question why until she looked down at herself, unable to her body.
She left the closet and instead of getting help, heard a loud commotion in the living room, hearing things getting broken and gun shots, hearing her father scream out for her to run, making her run straight into the living room. She saw her father on the ground, the living room was a complete mess. One of the men was laying on the ground motionless and another slumped on the couch with a visible hole in his head and her father pinned down by two others, with a pulled back and broken arm. One with a gun pressed against the back of his head. She had absolutely no clue what to do, she couldn't make a sound, she couldn't move a muscle, just staring her father and hearing him plead. “Please let my light be safe...” before the gun shot went off. Promptly followed by them fleeing as fast as possible hearing the sounds of sirens. Though it was only a fire truck responding to a house fire, they didn't stick around to find out. She rushed to his side and clutched his body and started to weep.
The god Ayrith had interrupted her crying, revealing themselves and started a discussion with her, offering her power for a permanent sacrifice. She believed that the deity was hear to help her get justice, she asked what they wanted, feeling that without her father she didn't have much else to lose. It said they wanted that if she wanted justice for their crimes against her father, she'd have to do it herself. She was speechless, but she knew what they wanted. Her conscience only lasted for a minute of silence, before taking her father's gun and loading it with ammunition. She took her father's car knowing exactly where they stayed. She made herself and the car invisible without even really thinking too clearly about it, parking outside and the cars were already there. She waited an hour silently in the car, wiping the tears from her eyes and talking to herself. She wondered if her father would ever see her as the light doing something so awful. She made up her mind, going inside the house by climbing into an open window, the lights were already out and both men were fast asleep. She went up to them filled with anger she placed the gun to one of their heads and shouted to “Wake up!” causing her face to be the last thing he saw before getting a bullet between the eyes, shooting the other one down. Both of them were dead in a minute, but that night wasn't over for her.
She also heard sirens coming closer but for some reason she couldn't get herself to turn invisible, as a police car pulled up into their driveway immediately rushing inside hearing the gun shots. The first person she saw with a shocked expression on his face, was her uncle seeing her covered in their blood with the gun clenched tightly in her hands. He uttered “What have you done...?” She went to embrace him and wept into his chest, whimpering about what had happened to her father and explaining she had to do it. The uncle took her in the front seat of her car and immediately drove out of there, he told her that he was on his way to arrest them able to find hard evidence of illegal activity and other murder charges and that they'd all likely would have rotten in jail forever and reprimanded her on what a foolish mistake that she had made and that this was not what your father wanted for you. It was a very long ride for them both, arriving at his home. He only had a single idea, he packed her some clothes and money, telling her that she needed to leave the city and told her to find a friend in New York City. He gave her everything she needed to locate him and some tickets he was going to use. He didn't give her a choice and very soon, she was leaving Pennsylvania on a train heading for New York, and the uncle did his best to cover up the crime and hoped that he made the right decision...
She found that friend and lived with him for two years without causing or receiving any trouble, finding a job at a radio station at that time, turning 20 around the time the war started, but she already felt like her life had ended. The years just blew by like the breeze, she was numb to everything around her but she was able to convince everyone around her that she was perfect and happy. Struggling with frequent night terrors and constant nagging insecurities and suicidal thoughts, but it mellowed out with time. Eventually moving into an apartment of her own and have her own successful program on the radio. She hadn't contacted her uncle until years later on her 23rd birthday, he sent her a letter and they had been sending letters to one another every so often. When she was 25, one night were she was very depressed and thinking about life, finding her boyfriend one night at a social gathering in a bar. He went to talk to her while she was sitting in the corner alone and told her things that made her feel good again. They had sexual intercourse that night, and that became every single night, when she got home from work. She'd take him to her place and they'd sleep together. She felt like she had a connection with him, and he felt the same way. Even after sharing their demons with one another, it only made their bond stronger. Her life had only gotten stranger ever since...but she couldn't imagine life without what gave her back the light she lost, not even minding his hallucinations of his older sister.
Specialization: Light School of Magic Attended: Alteration Primary Deity Worshiped: Ayrith Permanent Sacrifice: Yes.
Deity Sacrifice was made to: Ayrith
Reason behind Sacrifice: She just stood there and watched them kill her father, being frozen with fear and unable to do anything. She believed the god of light was a benevolent and holy deity, so she wished to give her father justice.
What was Sacrificed: (Her Innocence) By being ordered to kill those who killed her father herself, despite being able to get legal justice. Making her a murder and in her eye no better than the ones who killed her father.
Equipment: A lockable purse containing, Her father's cigarette lighter, A sweet smelling oil rub (for cosmetic and medicinal effects), The keys to her apartment and car, some kind of snack, a nail file, a comb (that she barely uses) and some money. With a hidden compartment, for her firearm and some extra ammunition.
“Guilt and rage, hatred and fear were pathways to weakness and clumsy choices.” ― Jonathan Maberry, Dust & Decay
Name: Aeron Khalil
Age: 25
Occupation: Italian Mob Daughter/Heiress
Race: WoofSquawk (Wolf-Bird)
Gender: Female
Height: 5’10” (1.7m)
Weight: 150lbs (68kg)
Descriptive Appearance: When seen with her father, Aeron typically wears blouse (varying colors) and a pair of black slacks, black shoes accompanying the outfit. However, when on her own or simply wandering the streets she tends to favor clothing typically found on women in the 40s, occasionally wandering away from the dresses that she wore in favor of pants and a shirt with slits for her wings.
Personality:
Fiercely Territorial
Vocal
Lacks a Filter
Loyal
Manipulative
Quirks: When annoyed Aeron has a habit of tapping a well manicured claw against any solid surface, her eyes usually narrowed in a glare at the object of her annoyance. When angry she usually falls silent and her simple ‘annoyed’ glare turns to one that shows clear murderous intent.
Born to the head of the Italian Mafia and an Italian Singer, Aeron was once the picture perfect image of everything the man held dear… a Pure bloodline. She was raised with the mindset that she too would have to find a wolf to carry on the purity of the italian line, it was something that all Mafia Leaders found important, something her mother had not been there to protect her from. Aeron’s mother had passed away when she was only eight years of age, leaving her with only her father to raise her, to beat into her young mind that the only man she could ever be with seriously was a Wolf. Sure she could mess around with other species, but she could never be serious with them, it had to be a wolf, and preferably as close to the genesis as possible. If a child was impure it was neglected, all attention going to the heir rather than the child whom was born from one wolf parent and one non wolf. That was how she was raised, how she had been told for years to think and to accept nothing less than the best. Then magic was discovered, and with that a way for her father to gain more power through favor with a God. He had gone nearly crazy with the want for it, had even gone so far as to give up the very thing that he and his family before him held to be most important… he gave up the purity of his bloodline, starting with his daughter. On the morning of her 23rd birthday Aeron woke up with wings longer than her body and feathers in both her tail and hair. It took her a moment for the change to sink in, her sleep addled mind clearing and prompting her to let out a scream of horror. She couldn’t understand what had happened to her, or why it had happened, not at first anyway… not until her father came into her room to tell her what he had done. That alone was enough to infuriate her, her pure blood had been tainted because of her father’s greed, she was no longer considered clean because of him. Yelling ensued, she was furious, betrayed and even past that, past her hideous impurity her father mpw telling her that because of her impurity her Uncle would be taking over as head should anything ever happen to him. That alone was enough to destroy her, the one thing she had been groomed for throughout her childhood, stolen from her because of her Father’s greed. In that moment, she planned on getting rid of her father for what he had done to her. She wasn’t sure how, but she was going to destroy him, take the Mafia and bend it to her will no matter what anyone thought of her appearance. It was the only thing she could do, she had to make it work otherwise she would just end up hating herself far more than she hated her father for what he had done. She was already terrified of going out to see those whom she had used to spend time with before, and that was doubly so for a male she had found herself growing rather fond of. It’s been about a year and a half since she wandered out of her home where people could see her, she had spent her time learning everything she could about the magic that had been discovered. Delving into the depths of both the approved magics and those that were shunned by nearly everyone. If she was going to have to deal with the way that she looked thanks to what her father was, she was going to do everything within her Power to ensure that he paid for what he did to her. She was going to make him suffer, his death painful and slow. For now though? For now it was time for her to take a chance and get back out there, she couldn’t hide forever.
”People ask me how I do it And I say there's nothing to it. You just stand there looking cute And when something moves, you shoot.” -Tom Lehrer, The Hunting Song
Name: Ylva Sandvik
Age: 19
Occupation: Gun for Hire
Race: Brown Timber Wolf
Gender: Female
Height: 5’6” (1.6m)
Weight: 135lbs (61.3kg)
Descriptive Appearance: Ylva doesn’t have much of a preference to her style, wearing anything from Skirts to jeans, tight tops to blouses and heels to shit kickers. The only ‘uniform’ she has is her Merc clothing, often consisting of a black shirt, black pants and black boots.
Personality:
Playful
Trigger Happy
Serious when Working
Overall Cheerful
Quirks: Ylva has a twitchy finger, always looking for a reason to use one of her firearms whenever she can. She is simply a shoot first ask questions never type of person.
Raised in a loving home, Ylva wanted for nothing and needed for even less. She was a good student and kept her grades up the best she could, however, there was always something missing. As Playful and happy as she was, the young girl had a violent streak, and a really bad one at that. Wanting to try to give her an outlet, her parents bought her her first firearm, the .44 Webley, and took her to the range as often as they possibly could. This outlet seemed to work for awhile, giving the young wolf something to do other than pick fights at school and with the neighbor kids. As the young girl grew older she focused more on her time with her firearms and once magic became a factor, she began to focus on that as well. While her school grades did not drop significantly, she was no longer a straight A student, forgoing her normal studies for those that taught her ways to manipulate the wind in her favor. It was because of her ability to mix her wind magic with her shooting that she became one of the better known mercenaries in the city at the age of 19. She was good at what she did, and it gave her the perfect outlet for her violent, trigger happy tendencies, being paid for it was simply a bonus.
“Life asked death, ‘Why do people love me but hate you?’ Death responded, ‘Because you are a beautiful lie and I am a painful truth.’” —Author unknown
Name: Theais Nightstalker
Age: 28
Occupation: Owner of the NightOwl
Race: Dragon Sub-Species
Gender: Female
Height: 6’ (1.8m)
Weight: 165lbs (75kg)
Descriptive Appearance: Theais typically wears nothing but slacks and shirts that most people balk at, mostly because her shirts consist of nothing but coverage for her breasts. When ‘working’ outside the Bar that she runs, she is often seen wearing what could pass as a Bikini, armored boots and armored gloves with the occasional cape. She usually wears an array of earrings in her right ear, a couple of them are gold and Sapphire dangles while the rest are white gold studs. She rather enjoys the shock factor her state of dress can bring.
Personality:
Mentally Unstable
Friendly
Twisted
Confident
Resourceful
Quirks: She suffers from Multiple Personality Disorder triggered by the murder of her family and she has an attraction to anything of any real value. If it’s shiny and valuable, chances are she is going to want it.
WIP, Writers block is a bitch
MAGIC SECTION HERE! Specialization: Necromancy
School of Magic Attended:
Primary Deity Worshiped: Draskeleth
Permanent Sacrifice: Yes
Deity Sacrifice was made to: Draskeleth
Reason behind Sacrifice: Wanted to bring her recently deceased younger Brother back to life, terrified of being left alone. However, due to him being freshly dead, she did not have enough power on her own to bring him back from the dead and thus, made a pact with Draskeleth.
What was Sacrificed: Fear of Death/Dying
Equipment:
Ritual Dagger
Spell book
Black Candles
Rune stones
Weapons:
Ghostwalker (Sword, Family Heirloom)
S&W Model 10
Winchester 63 .22 LR Rifle
Other:
In the words of Orrick "Yeah, she is slightly insane but very friendly so don't be afraid to approach her. Just be careful cause she may want to use your body after you are dead."
”Some people need a damn good punch right to their chin to get it through their heads that some of us just don’t give a single shit about what they say.”
Age: 33
Occupation: Boxing Instructor, Enforcer for a Gang
Race: Rhesus Macaque
Gender: Male
Height: 6’1, 1.85m
Weight: 196lbs, 89.09 kg
Descriptive Appearance: Orrick primarily wears jeans which, honestly, would probably best left in the garbage due to the amount of fraying which they have obtained from such a long period of time, as well as a hoodie which covers the form fitting t-shirts he often wears. His shoes are similar to modern-day converse, though are greying and covered in mud and gunk from the streets. Despite covering as much as he can with his day to day attire, it is true that his workout attire is far more revealing as he simply wears no shirt and shorts which do not restrict his movement. Some say he may be crazy with working out in such clothing, running miles in cold weather as such and even doing as such at night when it is freezing. If complemented or plied with enough booze, he may take of his hoodie simply to show off his muscles.
Personality: Courage or insanity, nobody knows for sure which drives Orrick to be as reckless as he is on a day-to-day basis, especially if he is fighting or looking to pick, a fight. In reality, it is probably just due to the fact that Orrick rather dislikes to let people push him around, whether they are in larger numbers than him or are stronger than him. He has never been known for allowing even the smallest transgression against him pass, even if it is something as simple as bumping into him, without causing some kind of confrontation. Oddly enough, he is only a bad person in the sense that he doesn’t care for the views of others or whether or not they dislike him, simply choosing to stand by his own views and never giving in. If on decent terms with him, most people would consider Orrick kind at his best and a bit of an asshole at his worst.
Quirks: After many a year of boxing and injuries to his shoulder, Orrick has taken to rotating his right shoulder, often creating a few loud pops, when agitated or simply bored.
Scum, punk, trash, many of these were words used to describe Orrick as he grew up, hated by many people who had seen him as nothing but a lesser being because he was a monkey of all things. He was never going to grow up to be anything special, anything other than another mongrel, had he chosen to be put down by them. But that was not the spirit Orrick had been born with, he was not going to let them decide the life he was to live whether it meant fighting with all his might or not. It was either that or give up and disappoint his mother who always thought more of him, always saw his Father who had died in the first World War before he was born, and always hoped that her son would make a niche for himself in a world that had rejected them. Yet, it had seemed for a long time that the man would never be able to live up to her expectations, never be able to find a part of the world where he was allowed to live in peace or at least comfortably. That was when he managed to find boxing and an instructor who could see past the fact that the kid he was teaching was going to cause such controversy, or at least was willing to forget it since Orrick showed an innate skill to keep on going even after taking a beating. For days, the kid would keep coming back after hours to avoid the other patrons of the ring for his training, often coming in with bruises and a broken nose because they saw him going in every now and then. Every time, he’d come in and train, letting out the anger he had towards those who kept trying to keep him down and pushing his limits to reach for the high bar which his Mother wished him to have. This meant being up early in the morning to go for runs, working out late into the nights, and adhering to a strict diet which his mother was barely able to keep up with. It wasn’t long before he had to get a job to support his growing appetite and need for a consistent diet to support muscle growth. His first competition was when he was young, barely seventeen, yet he was thrown against people who were older than him, had trained longer and had more experience. Some may expect to hear about how he was manage to pull out the title of Underdog but no, he lost and almost gave up. He would’ve given up had it not been for how happy it made his mother to see him doing something with his life rather than giving up and giving in to the pressure everybody put on him. Instead, he pushed himself even harder than he had in the past and kept pushing till he made a name for himself, though that took years till he was able to fight through discrimination and being an underdog to be able to compete for money that made a difference in his day to day life rather than the few dozen here and there. In fact, he found life going well for him, almost too well as the Mafia took notice and made him an offer. Take some falls and earn some extra cash. It was something he couldn’t refuse, how could he when his mother had recently fallen ill and he couldn’t manage to get her help? So he took a fall and earned the money, losing a battle here and there but not enough to lose his positioning in tournaments as he rose from the depths of the slums to fight in championships. All was going well for him, at least until his Mother died due to the medication she was on failing her and he saw no reason to continue taking falls and money from the Mafia. He was a local hero to some at that point, at least until someone leaked a ‘confidential conversation’ with him on how he was taking falls. He quickly became the target of hate from near everyone who knew him, no longer a hero as much as he was a piece of trash who would do anything for money. So Orrick did the only thing he was good at, he used his fists to dig himself out of that hole and earn some cash. Whether it was legal or not, he didn’t care. He was just aiming to retake his spot at the top. He even turned to the recently discovered magic which he had grown to disregard to give him the upper hand in his kind of work.
MAGIC SECTION HERE! Specialization: Versatile
School of Magic Attended: Conjuration
Primary Deity Worshiped: Zanshiel and Jyotika
Permanent Sacrifice: No
Equipment: -His Standard Clothing -A lighter and pack of cigarettes -A wallet with a few dollars in it -A picture of his mother(In his wallet) -And a necklace of a star made for him
Weapons: Nothing but his fists and a CR triangolo maniago switchblade.
”This world is a dangerous place to live; not simply due to the aspirations of those who are evil, but because of those who do nothing about them”
________________________________________
Age: Estimated 17-18ish
Occupation: Odd jobs, Contract killer, vigilante
Race: Jackalope Chimera (The bloodline is a bit racially mixed)
Gender: Androgynous male
Height: 5'2" (5'10" counting ears)(Stunted growth from malnutrition in their youth)
Weight: 110lbs (Bare necessities. Old habits die hard)
Descriptive Appearance: While the various personas Luciel plays as have their own motifs, going so far as to crossdress for the bartender and weekend singer role as well as the bi-weekly shift manager 'Ansel', Luci's tasts are a bit bland. Luciel is most notably clad in a scarf of various plaid intricacies. Other than this, he shifts between a hooded pea-coat, simple white T-shirts and nondescript jeans. He is an avid fan of high-top converse, plain steel rings and leather gloves. For disputable reasons, Luci sometimes wears an eyepatch on 'pirate logic' (keeping one eye dilated as to preserve night vision).
- Vertically slit pupils, single antler, forked tongue. - Runic tattoos across their shoulderblades and their back ribs depicting a thin web where a large spider is detailed out of darker runes. The language is in Iaillaosian and speaks of Abject concepts regarding the corporeal composure of mankind. - A numeric tattoo etched into his left collarbone reading "2-11073A". (Usually kept covered by scarf) ________________________________________
Personality Layer A: The 'Masquerade' that typically runs Luciel's behavior is a collection of personas and backstories. While there may be about five, he mainly utilizes two primaries named 'Ansel' and 'Kaitra'. Ansel is a more organized Englishman and night manager at The Hole. Fatherly in some ways, he is stern but compassionate and quick with a joke only when it's appropriate...a sick parody of who the man really was. Kaitra is the day bartender and occasionally morning barista at The Hole. The quiet type who also works as an information middleman of The Warran's agents and their infrequent dealings with Murder Inc. She comes off a bit aloof, but means well when you get past the sass. Layer B: 'Luciel' proper is divided into two categories when considering 'non-acting behavior. The most professionally experienced side is also the most elusive of his faces, going by the alias 'Charlotte'. Most mobs have had run-ins with 'Charlotte' for seemingly no reason over the last few months, starting with the warehouse fire which resulted in the destruction of a sizable smuggled weapons cache. Since then, it is suspected that 'Charlotte' is a sadistic malcontent with a blood-grudge against both the Pack and Pride as well as little regard for the lives of innocents. Little else is known due to the infrequency and thoroughness of her attacks. Jericho Lavandou (or more commonly known as 'Luciel'), on the other hand, is more or less a timid, mob sponsored, street doctor who values his privacy and the weight of a secret. He hides behind faces of the dead to live in relative anonymity. However, investing so much time into being other people has left him unsure who he really is. The main characteristics that bleed through the various masks is his otherwise good nature, though his reasoning and ethics may be a bit flawed. He is eager to please, but broken from the fears of his past. Seeking to belong in the world, he simply cast a wide net...unfortunately, due to the deals he struck, nothing is ever good enough. Layer O: Depressed and nihilistic. Luciel's life is wasted on the past and obsessing over what could have been done 'better'. His common disposition in its rawest of states is the child who had lost all but the breath in his lungs. In some childish manner, Luciel blames himself for what happened to his family, those around him and himself. He is empathetic as long as it meets his morals, and swift in judgment and violence with a numb handle on reality, the 'real' Luciel is never completely invested in anything...having already reached self-actualization...and is discontent with his lot in life.
Quirks: - Considered having split-personality disorder, though likely acting as a defense mechanism . - Can become reactively violent when threatened. (Bad negotiator) - Gets 'Carried away'. - Bites nails when stressed. - Closet Cannibal. - Rarely honestly smiles.
Life was not quite how I describe it, now. Yes, there was a family and I had relatives, although it was unlike the stories I tell how we were simply victims of war. It was three families living in a small house, and I only say three since I was technically from somewhere other than those who took me in. However, this information would be kept from me until it was important since, as an infant abandoned in the street, it no longer mattered who I was. I loved them all...I mean...I could have just as easily been left to die with my eyes closed with my youth.
I should have died.
My eyes opened and I knew the world only as a game with souls as pieces on the board; what I could take from them. The Nazis decided to keep me alive for some reason, my family not having the papers to explain me. It was then that...I don't know...maybe they did it to protect me? As we were pulled apart, kicking and screaming, they told me everything they could before the accent of a gunshot painted a picturesque example for anyone else daring to resist. They weren't my family, but they were. Maybe they said it so I would not miss them, so that what was about to happen would hurt less. I didn't know how to feel, but it was quickly made clear that I no longer decided how I felt. When 'tests' weren't being done, my keepers having found some interest in keeping me in one piece as opposed to the others in my group, I earned some semblance of favor by...helping. It was called helping, but winning food by fighting other children to the death over a knife...over a cup of gruel...
They ran out of other children. Or they stopped sending them to me after what I did to the last one... ...I was so hungry...
I was punished by having one of my antlers carved out. My handler fashioned it into some kind of handle plating for one of his knives. It was beautiful, to be honest, but it was mine...a part of me that was stolen. After this, food came regularly as well as other experiments. I was never told what they were doing, to matter how hard I cried or begged. Shocks...shots...I couldn't give them the answers they wanted, hell, I barely understood what they were shouting at me while I was shook and beaten by even the scientist.
Six years of my life were spent starving and suffering. It had been for almost as long as I lived before it all and it had become my life. I became a man in the darkness, and I died in the darkness. The darkness was my new family and was all I knew. By the time I saw the light, it was alien and blinding like being set aflame in a block of ice. Silence and stillness of peace were a hostile miasma so thick that I could barely see the world around me through my own fear. I think it was during this time that I...lost? It seems like a fitting word for how much of myself simply disappeared after simply waking up in my apartment like it was all just a bad dream. Small flashbacks of my time in the warehouse work its way to the surface on occasion.
Ugly men would pay an ugly monster filthy money to do unspeakable things to me...
Luciel pauses, catching the antler-plated butterfly knife and pulling out the second ebony plated knife. With a flick of the wrist, he sent the weapon into a double-zen rollover.
Sounds of straining leather. A snap and a pained moan. The blade glints beautifully in the dull light of the weak overhead bulb. Like silver in the moonlight. Steel cutting with grizzly scraping and carving as fur and flesh is peeled away. Muffled screams echo down a concrete hall. Dripping. The blade stops, blood dripping from it and its brother, clenched in ink-black hands with curling claws before going in for round two. Luciel's hand lifts the man's chest, suit stained with blood and ruined with a dozen holes. He seems frozen for only a moment, gasping but being held up by two other twisting black hands clenching his arms with enough force for their claws to hook into his flesh. In a second, the armed hands stiletto like a sewing machine, stealing the life and breath from the man as the soft voice of Luci coos, "Oh, Ansel...you've made me zee luckiest man in zeh verld~" blushing while looking between the fingers of his hands pressed to his blood-splattered face. A pleasant grin.
The blade stops with a resounding metallic chime...closed...
...and now they don't.
________________________________________
MAGIC SECTION HERE! Specialization: Darkness
School of Magic Attended: Physical Abstract
Primary Deity Worshiped: Iaillaos
Permanent Sacrifice: Yes.
Deity Sacrifice was made to: Iaillaos
Reason behind Sacrifice: Fear of the world and a loss of what had made them who they were. To discard their fear and remain focused on their task, such mortal links were broken. Unfortunately, this numbness left vengeance bland and immaterial to his existence; the world still turns, regardless of how many people die every day. A simple drop in the ocean was only accentuated by the lives one murder saves...or the next one...or the next one...or the next one...etc.
What was Sacrificed: Their Soul
________________________________________
Equipment: The Black Iron Mantle - Runes depicting the shapeless words of Iaillaos are etched into the fitted plate armor Luciel wears. Though the metal is laughably thin, the sustained spell is memetically linked to Luciel's mana. Relatively light weight for its design, the magic has stained the steel black and it holds up against most attacks at the cost of Luci's mana rather than health. Similar to his magic. - Billfold containing two razor blades, a few business cards to 'NightOwl' and $24 in assorted 1s and 5s
Messenger bag
- Medical kit stocked with extra supplies; vials of morphine (And hypodermic set), surgeon's tools.
- Water canteen.
- Fake glasses+case, makeup kit
Weapons: - Leg-fixed bandolier of 3 throwing axes. Broad-head, all of them are scuffed and dented along the sides. - Two 8in (Handle base to extended tip) French manufactured butterfly knives. One has ornate silver-plated ebony handles scribed with runes vertically reading 'estate (of) sun and ash' set into the length with the trademark lightningbolts 'SS' at the bottom, burnt in silver. The blade itself holds a swastika on each side of the kicker section of the tang. = The second is crude in comparison, a polished cast iron frame speckled with rust with what looks like stag antler plats set unadorned in either handle. Like its pair, a swastika is etched into either side of the kicker section of the tang. - One snub-nose double-barrel derringer shotgun. Brass jacket 12 gage, 00 buckshot. - Two Double-action .38 revolvers - One brass knuckle which is too big for his hands. Embossing on the plate reads 'Vereor Nox' (Latin for "I fear the night")
”Storytelling is the essential human activity. The harder the situation, the more essential it is.” ~Tim O'Brien
Age: 29 Occupation: Mechanic/handyman, moonlights as a gun-runner/smuggler. Race: Maned Wolf (techincally some sort of racoon/dog/panda thing) Gender: Male Height: 6' 1" (684 cm) minus ears, add 3" (7 cm) for ears. Weight: 143 pounds (65 kg)
Descriptive Appearance: Twombly dresses in a workmanlike appearance, practical, well-worn, and comfortable. When working in his shop, his hands are constantly coating in a grease or grime of some sort or another; he makes a point to wash it out before going anywhere special, best not to leave any fingerprints.
As a maned wolf, he is mostly legs and arms, with a surprisingly flexible neck that in conjunction with his various postures and facial expressions, tell a very wide and easily read range of emotions. That is of course assuming you aren't just fixated on watching his tail.
Personality: * Confident, some may say too confident * No sense of personal space * Flirtacious with anything that moves * Mischevious and easily bored * Kleptomaniac (beware of any unattended loose articles of clothing, keys, food, cigarrettes, or firearms) * Reclusive (see notes)
Quirks: Due to being unable to hear people coming behind him, Twombly has a tendancy to search for reflections or shadows to indicate a person's presence. Rendering their attempts at surprising him mostly-moot to the unwary.
Except in a dark room. Then anything and everything surprises him. Note: do not announce yourself by turning out the lights in his workshop.
Enlisted in 1943 and was then shipped out to the Pacific theater of operations just as the war began to die-down in preparation for the invasion of Japan. After their surrender, Twombly was stop-lossed to occupy some backwards southeast asian peninsula until late November 1946, and felt a bit crummy about not being allowed to vote that particular year. On the upside the extra few months and the rapid retirement of his commanding-officers meant a few last-second promotions and hardly any oversight of the motor-pool. So long as he didn't make too much noise...
Hence how he managed to bag a contract (to himself) to "repair" a tank meant for the French occupation forces, with a few "modifications" that were suggested by his unit (likely in jest). Of course, the French later didn't want that particular vehicle, so now he's stuck with it in his garage with nobody willing to buy it.
Which is how he casually ventured from being that quiet guy that was good with tools into a gun-runner for hire (using the tank [actually an M8 greyhound] he absolutely cannot find a buyer for as his credentials).
Specialization: Wind School of Magic Attended: Alteration Primary Deity Worshiped: Meifeng
Permanent Sacrifice: Y
Deity Sacrifice was made to: Meifeng
Reason behind Sacrifice: Being able to sneak into places without tripping alarms, or rather, not letting anyone hear the alarms he trips over.
What was Sacrificed: Over half of his hearing
Equipment: A very ridiculously bright (and heavy) flashlight
Other: After sacrificing most of his hearing in order to sneak up on people, he has so often found himself victim to being snuck upon that he has generally become reclusive from any unfamiliar places.