[CHAR] Pitch of the Night

[NuttsnBolts]

_{Name: *****
Age: *****
Gender: *****
Profession: *****}

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_{P H Y S I C A L A P P E A R A N C E}

*****

_{I N H E R I T E D C U R S E}

*****

_{C H A R A C T E R T R A I T S}

» *****: *****
» *****: *****
» *****: *****

_{D A R K H U N G E R S ( P E R S O N A L C H A L L E N G E S )}

» *****: *****
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_{A S P I R A T I O N S / P E R S O N A L M O T I V A T I O N S}

*****

[NuttsnBolts]

_{Name: Sienna Kinley
Age: Twenty Five
Gender: Female
Profession: Spirit Medium}

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_{P H Y S I C A L A P P E A R A N C E}

A speckled beauty of youth shrouded by a caramel waterfall. The waves of silky, orange hair flows freely and eternally across Sienna's face — a sentient appendage hiding an alluring secret, a forbidden appearance which could never fully be seen. Nonetheless, with a keen eye and some clever intuition, an onlooker could carefully piece together the lass' face.

And with those rose coloured lips and turquoise eyes they contrast the neutral, achromatic colours of her street style threads. A black parka jacket and dark jeans, not really elements that could be added to any colour palette, combines with the pewter grey tank-top she hides under the fox-fur inner lining. Her hi-top shoes and thin chain jewellery are the only exception, both gold, simply to add that little bit of 90's funk to the otherwise monotone look.

_{I N H E R I T E D C U R S E}

Witchcraft

_{C H A R A C T E R T R A I T S}

» Soul Sleight: As we view the world through our rose tinted glasses, Sienna cannot help but witness a different performance — one so tortuous and horror ridden as it lays hidden behind the curtains of reality. Within this purgatory limbo are the vengeful apparitions of those who have passed on, and through an incantation Sienna can guide her own essence into this ungodly realm.
» The Invisible Touch: With a mesmerising movement that mimics the plucking the strings on an angel's harp, the witch of obscurity can play a silent tune commanding the belongings of the world to dance hypnotically against the natural laws of gravity. An item's mass still factors in as Sienna understands she can only shift the world one stone at a time.
» Always a New Face: Sienna never stays put for long, choosing to venture throughout the world on an endless journey of hotel rooms and tour busses. Whether it is a sense of discovery, or a fear of being discovered, the young woman will never disclose her true reasoning. Instead, you will often hear conflicting lies as her ability to cover her tracks has become so messy that even she cannot remember what parts were ever true.

_{D A R K H U N G E R S ( P E R S O N A L C H A L L E N G E S )}

» A World of Pain: Transporting her soul into oblivion can be a risky endeavour, often one of the last choices the lone witch will ever take. An undefended shell with a gradual breakdown of body tissue and even a slim risk of possession; you wonder why anyone would use this talent. Still, leaving the authenticity of our world is a pure, unrivalled addiction akin to the familiarities of drug abuse.
» Not a Penny to Her Name: With little in the way of material possessions and relying heavily on the scrapy notes in her pocket, Sienna borders a line of poverty which is combined net worth of unfortunate and self-inflicted decisions. Why work when you can pickpocket with magic? Not a wise choice considering her gift's potential.

_{A S P I R A T I O N S / P E R S O N A L M O T I V A T I O N S}

Sienna is on a journey to Brier Hill in the hopes of uncovering the secret to a family friend's disappearance fifteen years prior. Struggling for clues and with little to go on, she decided that the hometown of the vanished would be the best locale to start.

[NuttsnBolts]

_{Name: Dr. Mathias Röemheld
Age: Fourty Three
Gender: Male
Profession: Doctorate of Pathology}

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_{P H Y S I C A L A P P E A R A N C E}

Coming straight out the 90's fashion catalog is Dr. Röemheld, standing strong in his signature woolen jacket and slim turtleneck sweater; articles of clothing which are coloured in a mature shade of chestnut and navy respectively. The combination of attire, his 1950's round specs, and the slick in his hair all help to present the good doctor as someone who obtained his position through no easy feat.

It should be known however that Mathias is a man with a rough edge to his pristine demeanour. A ragged, balbo beard rests below his lifeless, grey eyes; a pair of gangly hands which appear twice the age of his weary face; and a distinct limp from a dodgy, right knee. Only the few who know him well will know the reasons to his aged guise.

_{I N H E R I T E D C U R S E}

Lycanthropy

_{C H A R A C T E R T R A I T S}

» Mark of the Wolf: The curse of Lycanthropy is a unique ailment. A mark which offers an abundance of strength, healing, and heighten senses for the lone, monthly cost of a night of beasthood. While his illness is impressive it has taken a toll on his body, wearing it thin and scaring him from the core to his ragged skin.
» Man of Science: As a doctor for two decades, Dr Röemheld is quite the educated individual. He know much more about the happenings of Brier Hill than he lets on, and it would be foolish to disregard his words of guidance. At the same time, obtaining those words is a task unto itself with the Doctor viewing other cursed members as "filthy abominations" not worthy of his time.
» Note to Self: Mathias is a writer, but more importantly a note keeper. Within his coat pocket he keeps a small leather diary which holds all that he sees, and all that he wishes to document. While its presence may be known, its contents are hidden — a book for his eyes and his eyes alone.

_{D A R K H U N G E R S ( P E R S O N A L C H A L L E N G E S )}

» The Non-Believer: Mathias struggles to acknowledge his Lycanthropy affliction, even as he continues to take a specially formulated dose to prevent the monthly mutations. It goes against everything he has experienced and no one seems understand why.
» A Stolen Memory: The diary Mathias keeps is more to him than any mere notebook from an office supplies store. It is a totem, a memory record for the days where his mind fades off into the pale moonlight. To lose it would be to lose his identity, and would reduce him down to no more than a mad Dr. Jekyll, bound by the shackles of a beastly Mr Hyde.

_{A S P I R A T I O N S / P E R S O N A L M O T I V A T I O N S}

As a doctor, Mathias is currently researching the curse and its connections to the human genome. He hopes to one day find a cure, and is even willing to pay the price if it means he can eliminate the plague entirely. The question that is yet to be answered is how much can he truly afford?

[Voltus_Ventus]

_{Name: Dave Davies}

_{Age: 32}

_{Gender: Male}

_{Profession:"I sell computers."}

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_{P H Y S I C A L A P P E A R A N C E}

Davey is a tall, barrel-chested man, perhaps not what one might think of when they imagine a computer salesman. He lumbers around quite literally, in a slow, deliberate, long strided manner, always transporting a case of pamphlets and brochures of his available merchandise. He wears a face of earnest, innocence, usually looking as if something somewhat concerning is on his mind, his voice and his posture reflect this in turn.

Davies is never caught out in the cold, always wearing something warm, ranging from sweaters to large winter jackets, and never anything but a shirt and tie underneath. Though he keeps his hair tidy, he isn't as keen when it comes to grooming his beard, keeping it trimmed but not necessarily tidy.

_{I N H E R I T E D C U R S E}

Morbid Dreams

_{C H A R A C T E R T R A I T S}

» Well-Rested: Every night Dave is visited by dreams of his death in sharp detail, the thing is, they're not just dreams. They are precise predictions, telling him how he will die the next day. As a result, like wanting to get home to catch your favourite show, he takes steps to not be caught awake after midnight even if it means having to sleep in his car. Because his dreams don't have reruns, and if he can't have them, he can't prepare.
» Just In Case: Dave is never seen without his case, a leather affair something similar to what doctors-on-call might have used back when that was popular. Quick to open and innocuous, it's filled with his sales materials, along with whatever else he may need to survive the day. But tucked at the bottom is a small, .22 pistol, as a travelling salesman life is fraught with danger, coupled with his dreams, they necessitate packing heat.
» Moment's Notice: However, his dreams do have their benefits, they also reveal to him the minutes leading up to and proceeding his death, which functions as a small glimpse into the future. Sometimes it means he has to wake up earlier or later, or pack more bullets than he usually does, but it has resulted in gains as well, as seeing the future usually does.

_{D A R K H U N G E R S ( P E R S O N A L C H A L L E N G E S )}

» Lost in Thought: At various times of day, under various circumstances, Davies isn't always quite there. He stares off into space, eyes expressing the whirring of the cogs in his mind as he plans around that day's possible death. Dave understands that he lives on a knife's edge, and that he needs to plan carefully, because he only has one shot at getting it right.
» Collateral Damage: Sometimes the sites of fate aren't so accurate, and whatever it may have to through at him might hit the world around his as well. Car crashes, gas leaks, liquor store robberies, stray bullets and stray animals. If he doesn't disarm the situation others might be hurt, or by surviving, others might not. This has to lead him to live a life of imposed solitude, and to be ever vigilant. Culminating in a few moments of erratic behaviour and paranoia, only to lapse once the danger is past.

_{A S P I R A T I O N S / P E R S O N A L M O T I V A T I O N S}

He hopes that one day fate will decide to leave him be, understanding that it cannot best this mortal. Or perhaps to come face-to-face with the power that sends death his way and makes it stop. Ultimately though, he dreams of being an average Joe, remarkable in the little ways, and of course to outlive the curse right on his heels.

[Polyphemus]

Edward Donahue

_{Name: Edward Donahue
Age: Forty-seven
Gender: Male
Profession: Private Investigator}

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_{P H Y S I C A L A P P E A R A N C E}

Donahue is a dour, stolid middle-aged white man of unremarkable appearance. His attire is conservative and professional while still being cheap and unambitious.

He's in good shape for his age, though he is rarely called upon to do anything physical and concerned he's losing the athleticism of his youth

_{I N H E R I T E D C U R S E}

True Sight

_{C H A R A C T E R T R A I T S}

» The World Unmasked: Ever since he was a child, Donahue has been privy to a terrifying truth- some of the people around us are not people but instead clever imitations. Somehow, in some way, he is able to see through these disguises and see the creatures beneath them.
» Investigator: Perhaps stemming from the above, Donahue has a compulsive need to understand and solve mysteries. He spent several years as a detective for the Providence, Rhode Island police department and now works as a private investigator on retainer with several law firms. He is fairly skilled in detecting and sniffing out clues after a few decades of practice.
_{D A R K H U N G E R S ( P E R S O N A L C H A L L E N G E S )}

» The World Masked: In spite of being able to see past the human faces of creatures around him, Donahue rarely if ever acts on this knowledge. He is frightened by what he sees and reasons that letting on to his ability will endanger him. Accordingly, he has developed an admirable poker face.
» Functional Alcoholic: Part of it is police culture and peer pressure, part of it stems from a lifetime of pretending everything is fine. While he never is impaired at work, Donahue needs a moderate amount of alcohol in order to relax and fall asleep at night. His consumption is usually proportionate to the amount of stress he is feeling.

_{A S P I R A T I O N S / P E R S O N A L M O T I V A T I O N S}

Edward Donahue has been brought to Brier Hill for purely professional reasons- collecting evidence of a man's infidelity to his wife for a juicy divorce case. He just wants to finish up, head back to Providence, and collect his paycheck.

[Stitches]

Abigail Dubois

_{Name: Abigail Dubois
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Profession: Waitress at the Briar Hill Inn}

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_{P H Y S I C A L A P P E A R A N C E}

The image above is a mere approximation of Abigail’s appearance.
A short and bony waif of a girl with a crop of lanky, thin blonde hair and noticeably large ears. Abigail has pasty skin which is almost always covered in grime, scars, bruises and a couple of spots, an upturned nose and a smattering of freckles (or incredibly stubborn specks of dirt) under her bulbous, watery eyes. Despite her age, she carries herself with the twitchy restlessness of an energetic child. Despite her experience, her gaze brightens with the insatiable curiosity of a shut-in.

Abigail does as much as she can to bulk herself up against the frigid chill of the fogs in Briar Hill, often wearing multiple layers, oversized jackets and dark coloured beanies. She wears fairly neutral and dark colours to try and retain her inconspicuousness at the expense of the dull hues bringing out her sickly pallor. The wardrobe is meagre, well-worn and clearly second hand. She only owns two pairs of shoes - a pair of tattered running trainers and oversized hiking boots.

_{I N H E R I T E D C U R S E}

Curse of Servitude

_{C H A R A C T E R T R A I T S}

» Obedient: From dawn to sundown, Abigail must follow every direct command she is given - be it vocal or written. All commands and their effects are immediately nullified at night. The only mode of resistance is finding loopholes in the phrasing of the order. The only exception to the rule are orders to physically harm herself or others, and orders to stop following orders.
» Dropout: For obvious reasons, Abigail left school quite early on. She does not have the necessary qualifications for any high-income jobs and instead works for her keep. On the bright side, her work ethic is phenomenal, as one would expect with almost two decades of practice. She is methodical and efficient in most of the chores she unwillingly undertakes.
» Crafty: With little else to do aside from her shift jobs, and no real friends to talk to, Abigail has taken up a whole host of creative hobbies to keep herself occupied - she knits, sews, and bakes on a regular basis. An inquisitive sprite at heart, Abigail is quick to pick up new skills and enjoys learning new things.

_{D A R K H U N G E R S ( P E R S O N A L C H A L L E N G E S )}

» At Your Service: Being manipulated (intentionally or otherwise) by a great deal of the people you meet brings about an intense disgust and wariness towards other people. Abigail’s fears of being forced into another chore by a stranger has developed into a somewhat standoffish nature that only makes it all the harder for her to fit in.
» Through Rain or Snow: Some of Abigail’s commands, though not directly dangerous to her wellbeing, have dealt blows to her immune system - primarily through exposure. To this day, she is quick to fall ill and slow to recover. Though she combats this with a rigourous exercise routine and healthy eating, the damage has already been done...

_{A S P I R A T I O N S / P E R S O N A L M O T I V A T I O N S}

Abigail is simply looking for a way to offset the effects of the curse - even if it requires constant reapplication every day. Aside from the blindingly obvious, Abigail is also looking for a way to become fully independent, even with her curse.

[NightMind]

Cassidy Kane

_{Name: Cassidy Kane
Age: Twenty Two
Gender: Female
Profession: Singer}

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_{P H Y S I C A L A P P E A R A N C E}

This is the girl your mamma warned you about! A young temptress adorned with a modest crown of raven hair, styled and kept short to her liking. She stands taller than the average girl her age at just under six foot with a proportionally sized body. Her face delicately made up, always paying special attention to the contours of her eyes as if to elicit something more primal inside of her.

When she walks on stage she commands a presence, the lights always seem to shine on her just right, showing off exactly what she wants others to see. Opting to wear anything that will get a look but never willing to show her skin, making sure to stay far away from dresses, shorts, and skirts. Beneath her rock star fashion facade is nothing but torment. The signs of her anguish take the form of several hundred self inflicted wounds, scars to remind her that he's always there.

_{I N H E R I T E D C U R S E}

Violent Specter

_{C H A R A C T E R T R A I T S}

» Incessant Chatter: Almost all children have had an imaginary friend in their life but they tend to grow up and realize that it's just a silly game. Cassidy however was not so lucky. As she got older the voice simply became stronger and more prevalent. Chiding and coaxing her to start fires, get into fights, and eventually cut herself. The echo in her young mind had finally revealed itself to be a prolific yet unidentified serial killer. He refuses to give his name but constantly begs her for blood. She often comes off as rather odd or manic when others catch her talking to the spirit that is seemingly linked with her.
» Tortured Artist: She chooses to use the violence and hate inside her to write powerful music with her renowned rock band. Her lyrics never fail to speak to the disenfranchised youths of world, making her a somewhat competent orator as well. While the carnage inside of her is immense, she never lost her creative edge. She doesn't travel far without her notebook, never knowing when the urge to write a song will sneak up on her. Often caught whistling or humming to calm herself down when the voice becomes overbearing.
» Fame: Cassidy isn't very modest when it comes to her stardom. Prone to lash out or offend others when she doesn't get her way. She's lost touch with a large portion of her old life simply because of the money and lifestyle that comes with being a famous singer. She's an avid drinker and partier, often choosing the most expensive items to aid her debauchery.

_{D A R K H U N G E R S ( P E R S O N A L C H A L L E N G E S )}

» Bloodletting: Cassidy can only quell the tired screams of the spirit by opening her own flesh. When all is said and done the specter is satisfied enough with the act and briefly leaves her be. While it seems to keep his ministrations satisfied she fears for the day when her own blood is not enough.
» Letting him in:When she isn't mentally paying attention she often finds herself giving control to her passenger. It's usually extremely brief but in those delicate moments she is completely gone, giving the killer the freedom to do as he pleases, even if it's just for a moment. The act feels almost like a blackout for her, waking up groggy and confused about what just occurred. While she isn't fully aware of her surroundings she knows what and who is causing it.

_{A S P I R A T I O N S / P E R S O N A L M O T I V A T I O N S}

Ridding herself of the dark passenger and all the demonic urges he harbors is her ultimate goal. To live a life without the voice of that abhorrent man talking about the pleasures of murder and desecration every day. Her wish is to somehow exorcise the lingering soul or even destroy him.

[DinoNuts]

Brooks Fairview

_{Name: Brooks Fairview
Age: 47
Gender: Male
Profession: Mechanics Engineer, runs the local autoshop.}

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_{P H Y S I C A L A P P E A R A N C E}

Brooks is a tall, stocky, hairy man with the physique of someone who gained muscle without trying to show off, or perhaps from a lifetime of labour. He has long, greying hair that he combs back into a loose ponytail with bushy eyebrows and steady green eyes. His beard is more grey than anything else, though it shows flecks of ginger and red from time to time. His nose is ever-so-slightly crooked and the lines on his face appear to be from decades of frowning. His hands are calloused but their movements are delicate. His nails are kept short for his job - he wears no wedding ring and there are no indications that he had ever worn one in the past. He has no piercings and no tattoos, but he does have a few scars on his left shoulder, abdomen and knuckles.
In terms of attire, Brooks wears whatever he has to for the autoshop - most of the time he is in a set of oil-stained blue overalls and some rugged working books. The outfit is made up with thick leather gloves; a quirk that seems to persist in all of his outfits is the set of thin gloves, owing it to a combination genetic skin condition and years working with chemicals at the shop that now leaves the skin on his hands flaky and prone to blister. To help cover himself up, Brooks favours jackets and thick jumpers even in the middle of summer.

_{I N H E R I T E D C U R S E}

The Eldritch Pestilence

_{C H A R A C T E R T R A I T S}

» All-consuming Power: Brooks’ right arm has been overrun with some sort of lovecraftian beast. The flesh has turned a deep violet - the hairs stiff and coarse, the nails black and ridged. Some teeth grow out from misshapen angles with no lips to cover them - open sores litter his muscles with craters. From the elbow downwards thick, glistening tendrils run the length of his arm. Though this gives his appendage strength beyond human limitations, and the ability to fling a dark mass of viscous, quivering, burning energy at will, the being is parasitic and the repercussions are severe.
» Maybe You’ve Heard Of Me: Brooks has spent most of his life in Brier Hill. He worked his way through from attendant at the gas station to inherit the local autoshop from its previous owner. He has his usual haunts. People know his name as an unremarkable, albeit very guarded fellow. He has some close acquaintances, particularly in the diners and the Inn he goes to for drinks.
» Survivalist: With his own vegetable garden, greenhouse, and a reportedly hand-made cabin just on the outskirts of the thick pine woods surrounding Brier Hill, it comes as no surprise that the rumours of Brooks being one of those survivor-nuts tend to come up in most conversations about him. In reality, he has just spent a very long time preparing himself for the worst - a day where he is so disfigured that he can no longer show his face in public. As such, he knows how to hunt and live off the land.

_{D A R K H U N G E R S ( P E R S O N A L C H A L L E N G E S )}

» Excessive Treatment: As stated before, Brooks’ curse has more repercussions than benefits. The arm is in a state of constant infection, which requires almost daily care to maintain and slow the spread of corruption. It hurts to move it - even more so to keep all the slithering parts of it contained under a set of bandages. It requires frequent discharge of the fetid magics it produces, usually in a method not too dissimilar to bloodletting - allowing those ‘spells’ he can fire to drip and bubble into various biohazard barrels in his basement.
» Fever fatigue: Even under all the precautions and care Brooks takes, an overexertion of his strength or his body tends to lead into coughing fits of dark, bloody phlegm. His human body was not made to work symbiotically with an ancient parasite. Worse still, this puts all doctor’s visits off the menu - even though he has some form of healthcare for his job, Brooks cannot risk going to a doctor for anything physical.

_{A S P I R A T I O N S / P E R S O N A L M O T I V A T I O N S}

Brooks had long ago resigned himself to his fate. He does not know how long it will take for this parasitic infection to spread and consume the entirety of his body, but he spends his remaining time working tirelessly towards the worst - a life of isolation...or a quick, clean death on his own terms.