Elementals and Abilities Elementals: Spiritual and Lightning Abilities: Communication with spirits, manipulation and creation of electricity.
Companions Zinx, a four year old cat with the ability to speak English.
Biography Elizabeth was born fourteen years after her brother, Johnathon Hunter Willow, to Annalise and Eliot Willow. At the time of Elizabeth's birth, Annalise was thirty-two years old and Eliot was thirty-eight. The couple had been shunned in the small town where they resided not only for their six year age difference, but also for the fact that Annalise had given birth after the age of thirty, which was breaking tradition in the community. The Willow family was a reserved one, never attending any town events, never responding to visiting neighbors, and never seeming to come out of their home.
The reality that most were not aware of was that Eliot was a high leader for a Demon Hunting division in their quaint, quiet little town. Missing persons reports, suicides, and homicides without suspects began increasing at a large rate for the past ten years before Elizabeth was born. Eliot was called down to inspect and investigate. And when Elizabeth was barely three years old, her father left one evening and never returned.
Overcome with grief, Annalise spent the next four years traveling away from home to search for her husband, leaving Elizabeth to be cared for by Johnathon. Being seventeen at the time the responsibility of caring for a toddler was dumped on him, Johnathon was neither a good brother nor guardian. It was during her time alone that Elizabeth learned to care and fend for herself. Soon, it became apparent that she would follow in her father's footsteps.
When Elizabeth was just seven years old, she left her home and her brother behind, knowing that he would never miss her. Within the first six months, Elizabeth was almost murdered. She was small and virtually strength-less, and a sleek, black wolf much larger than the average mini-van leaped upon her, teeth bared, snarling, out to kill, and specifically, out to kill her. Had it not been for Mason Timothy, a wandering hunter who happened to have been a very good friend of Eliot's, Elizabeth would have been dinner.
Mason took Elizabeth in. He had no home of his own; he was a traveling hunter. Though he didn't have much to offer, he did give her the equipment, weapons, and gear she carries around today. He helped her to learn to use the weapons he had gifted her. He taught her to survive. He taught her to hunt. And before long, Elizabeth's eyes were much older than her body. She'd had more personal experiences with murder, death, and tragedy than any other average ten year old. And just as she'd begun growing fond of jolly, cheerful Mason Timothy, he vanished. Just like her father.
Now, Elizabeth wanders. Some part of her hopes that maybe, just maybe, she will come across her father, Mason, or her mother. Another part of her hopes that she never does.
The Basics Name: Clarissa Ackerman (nee James) Age: 25 Gender: Female Species: Human
On-Hand Daily clothing:Here - Usually a sweater and leggings with combat boots and her necklace with her engagement ring on it. Weapon:Bow and Arrows/Katana Equipment:Leather Bag that contains a flask with vodka in it, money, a pocket knife, several packs of beef jerky, and a plain white t-shirt with a pair of leggings. Extra clothing: Plain white t-shirt and pair of leggings
Elementals and Abilities Elementals: Psychic & Healing Abilities: Ability to read minds, to manipulate one's thoughts, and to heal others
Companions German Shepherd - Cisco - Speaks German, Male, Adult
Biography Like any normal child, she was born from her mother and into her family. Unlike other kids though, she was born into a hunter family. Clarissa's father, aware of the fact, tried to get her away from his wife and in-laws. It was a failed attempt after a year of trying, as the court took the mother's side. Unless he wanted to get illegal, he wouldn't have been able to get Clarissa out of harms way. Now stuck with her mother for sure, Clarissa began training. Since she was only one year old at the time they started, she was only taught simple things, like how to walk and run. As soon as she hit the age of three, Clarissa's mother enrolled her into dance classes, specifically ballet. It would teach her endurance and elegance.
Age six was a big year for Clarissa. Her mother had decided it was time to learn how to wield weapons. The basics were taught to her over the course of two years. Until the age of eight, she was learning how to use a bow and arrows and also how to use simple weapons like knives. When she did hit the age of eight, they realized her abilities and began to train her in using them properly. Clarissa enjoyed her healing power, but wasn't too happy with her psychic powers. She enjoyed healing people more than manipulating them, so, while she was trained to use her psychic powers, she doesn't use them too often.
By the age of ten, Clarissa was a trained killer, and healer. She wanted something new to learn, and her parents agreed with her. Other than choosing a weapon for her to use, they let her choose. The ten year old chose a katana. It would be perfect for close range while her bow would be used for long range. Clarissa was trained to use the katana by her grandfather, who also used a katana. She excelled in it, just like everything else. Even more experienced by the age of 15, she was sent off into the world to hunt with her mother.
They went to other countries, helping out people that needed it and trailing after cases that could be involved with demons. She went to England and Japan mostly, but when her mother was called over to visit family in Germany, as a family member was dying, she brought Clarissa with. Now, this was at the ripe age of 20, so Clarissa was well versed in actually hunting demons at this point. However, what she wasn't prepared for, was love.
She met a German boy by the name of Edgar when she was in Germany. He was a hunter too and had been a friend of the family member that died. In the short time they had met, they were sure they were in love. It took some convincing of her mother, but Clarissa was able to stay in Germany with Edgar. They became hunting partners and he taught her German, among other things. She wasn't actually taught normal things like math and science growing up, since her family was so focused on training and killing demons, so Edgar took it upon himself to teach her. Thanks to him, she at least knows the basics. It only made her love him more.
It wasn't long before Edgar proposed to her. She was twenty-two when he did, and they got married the next year. It was a happy time. They got a dog named Cisco to help them with hunting, but also for a family dog. She thought nothing could go wrong. Until of course her husband was killed by a demon, but not before leaving her with a child on the way. She was only twenty-four. With a child on the way and being widowed, she didn't know what to do. Depression wasn't a want or need, but she fell into it anyway. Thankfully, she didn't resort to not so smart things and was able to give birth to a healthy baby boy the next year. Her mother had been there when the baby was born, but she was also the one that took the mother away from the baby. Clarissa's mother convinced her depressed daughter into going to Chicago. It would be good for her to get away from the reminders of her ex-husband, she said. Don't worry, she said.
Well, it worked, because now Clarissa was in Chicago and she wanted to solve as much of their problem as possible so she could go back to her son.
The Basics Name: Bishop Age: 38 Gender: Male Species: Human Description: Dark gray hair and eyes, 1.87m(73.6 inches) tall, weighs at 85 kg(187 pounds), muscular athletic build, multiple scars spread throughout the body, unscarred face.
On-Hand Daily clothing: T-shirt, jeans,
Weapon:
12 throwing knives
Equipment:
Different banknote currencies, multiple identities and passports and a pair of dark glasses.
Extra clothing: Gloves, jacket, hat.
Elementals and Abilities Elementals: Lightning Abilities: Manipulation of electricity, creation of electricity (from nothing), ability to manipulate electronics (such as phones, TVs, etc. even if they do not work, are off, or unplugged.)
Companions: None
Bio: The first thing that I could remember was being bound in chains surrounded by a group of people wearing black coats and hoodies both trimmed with gold linings along the edges. I was in what seemed an old ruined building with no view of the outside and no fresh air, I presumed to be underground. They were all reciting the same words in sync. "They must have been doing this for a while"-were my thoughts. After the chanting stopped one of them approached me carrying a dagger with a black gem in the middle and engravings on the hilt. The blade was 11 inches long covered with more strange engravings similar to those on the hilt, it was a ritual dagger. As the person drew closer I saw that it was a young girl with long dark hair and brown eyes, her face was scarred by wounds and I could make a single tear falling down from her left eye before she made a wide smile and held the knife up, ready to strike. Meanwhile a surge of adrenaline took over my body, my heart was close to breaking my chest open and everything seemed to slow down. I started to frantically bash the chains that were holding both my hands behind my back to the ground. I wanted to live, it was one of the most primal and base instincts that every living organism possessed. For what happened next stopped me in my attempts as I watched in awe as the cultist slit open her own throat right in front of me, blood splattering everywhere covering my face and body. She then slowly started falling to the ground while everybody else didn't waste any time to start another chant. I just kept looking at the corpse in front of me, the pool of blood around it getting wider and wider, all the time thinking if I would share the same fate as her. 15 minutes passed as I heard them tirelessly recite incomprehensible words, it could as well have been 2 minutes. Only in this situations do you start to really appreciating every single minute that you get to be alive. The moment they stopped chanting I went cold with fright and anticipation. As another cultist left the circle they had formed around me and started approaching slowly, definitely with intention to end my life this time, I started to black out. One reason was the lack of food and sleep that I had to go through while under captivity, and all this ordeal provided just the right amount of boost for it to happen. The last thing that I saw were walls crashing around me and a giant flame emerging from thin air.
When I came to my senses I could feel the fresh air filling my lungs again, I could feel the dried up blood in my skin and I was still powerless from the food and sleep deprivation. I looked at what was now a ruble made of rocks painted with blood and spotted many human body parts dispersed around the area, they were all burned to a crisp. I could worry later of what happened this night, but right now I had to find a way of leaving this massacre alive. I looked around and saw I was surrounded by a dense forest all around me. I had to find a road and fast. I didn't know how much I longer I could even stay conscious. I dragged my feet through the forest and walked for miles on end for what seemed like hours. Pure willpower and dedication to survive were keeping me alive and pushing me forward. I finally saw a main road, to my by-the-second increasing luck I noticed the long front lights of a car. I mustered all my last remaining power to reach the road as quickly as possible before my only viable chance slipped away. I barely reached the road in time while the car was only 10 meters away in front of me and driving fast. I filled my lungs with air to the best of my capability and shouted as hard as I could only to have a silent scream emerging. The car just drove passed me and at that moment I gave up, finding comfortness while blacking out again. I thought I heard the sound of tire breaks but that was too good to be true anyway...
When next I woke up I saw a bright blinding white light,some other guy would think that he was in heaven but I don't believe in higher powers so I presumed that I was taken to a hospital or medical facility, or at least that's what I wanted to believe. As the saying goes:"My prayers were answered" although I was more hoping than praying. A medic personnel was standing over a screen checking various data which I presumed were my pulse among other stuff, after some seconds he noticed something in the medical apparatuses and immediately turned to look at me. He then started calling out to the other medics I suppose, but I was surprised to see a woman which I had never met come in and greet me with a "Welcome Back" cliche. Few days after I woke up I had regained most of my power and was ready to leave although I was recommended a week in bed for further analyses on my health. During that short time of rest I was explained how the woman found me while driving and quickly rushed me to the hospital. I was barely staying alive even with all the treatment I was getting but my saviour kept coming everyday to visit me and the doctors said that I was improving on a regular basis. I remember when I opened my eyes the first time, while the doctor left to announce my revival she started asking me about the cult I escaped from and what happened. I was surprised at her knowledge of what had happened that night. I tried to talk back but was still tired and unable to, she noticed that and said that she would pick me up when I got better and explain everything. I owed her my life so I didn't see any reason for her to hurt me, I decided to put my trust on her at the moment. She still came visiting on a daily basis although never saying a word, once I got back most of my powers I told the doctors that I was feeling well and ready to leave, although they insisted on me staying a few more days, the woman persuaded them that she would take care of me for the next couple of days. They remembered how much of a help the woman was to me, she practically saved my life and kept visiting daily, so they decided to trust me to her. I had no objections to that.
After I wore the clothes the mysterious woman gave me, because you know...the last ones got soaked in blood, we got out of the hospital and took off with her car. The first thing I asked her was her name which she responded with "Lara". Now that I could take a better look at her with the sun warmly shining on our faces and my senses back in order(the whole ordeal could drive a normal person mad with severe depression and paranoia but I had a stomach for it) I noticed her hypnotizing green eyes(everytime I looked in them I found real peace of mind and felt as if I could do anything for her), her succulent pink lips, her chin, cheekbones, nose, ears and fiery red hair(practically I studied her face for about 10 whole minutes or so). I was certain she could feel my gaze but no reaction was coming from her related to it, finally I broke myself out of trance and broke the silence while asking her of how she knew the cult and how much did she know about them? I didn't expect a response or just thought she would tell me to be quiet until we reached our destination but with no hesitation she started telling me about her history with the cult and how she and her family had been investigating them for decades, generation after generation. She told me that they practised rituals in order to summon demons from hell, they let them bring havoc to this world, their goal was to let chaos engulf this world because chaos was the original state of all things, it was the core of creation and by doing so "The Cult" hoped to achieve enlightenment by witnessing a world like that. And Lara was part of a demon hunting group, it was their job to prevent "The Cult" from reaching it's goal and possibly annihilate every member of that wretched organization. Now it was her turn to ask the questions, I just told her everything I remembered from that night and all the nights that I was imprisoned. We started guessing for the author of the havoc that took place on that fateful night. She suggested of a demon going berserk and annihilating its contractors because after all one woman sacrificed herself right in front of me, maybe they didn't know how much blood the demon needed to be summoned. While my suggestion was that a fellow demon hunter came after finding their location and brought ruin to them all. We shared our opinions on different subject during the road trip until we finally arrived in a cheap-looking motel. I looked at her and she looked back at me while saying:"What? I move a lot and this is an efficient way to keep a low profile." "I didn't say anything"-I replied. We got in and the place looked as terrible in the inside as on the outside. She mentioned that she had a lead on some ritual happening next friday while quickly packing everything up. I noticed multiple passports, identity cards and different banknotes. After packing everything up she headed to take a quick shower. Did this place even have running water? While she was bathing I took the remote and opened that potato box of a TV and started scrolling through channels until I came across a news channel featuring the ruin in the woods that I escaped from and the dead burned body parts. They also mentioned to have found hundreds of bodies while digging deeper in the tunnels located below the ruins. All of the corpses had missing bones from their skeletal structure. And in those corpses that still had their skulls attached, a pentagram was noticeable in each of them. I started remembering what I had been through and the thought that hundreds of others had been in my place before me but they weren't as "lucky" as me made me shake with anger. This triggered a frenzy inside me, I suddenly got the irresistible urge to scream and shout angrily, swearing that I would hunt down every single one of those wretched cultists! I heard the shower stop and Lara coming out naked holding a knife in hand and murmuring words while ice spears started forming around her. The spears had such a nice curve to them and the water dripping from them was so wet... That image certainly got my anger down quite a bit. She immediately realised that I wasn't in any danger, started blushing furiously while half screaming:"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"-and some other stuff... She turned the frozen spears into water and send it streaming towards me and quickly afterwards entered the bathroom while slamming the door shut behind her. "What was her problem?She came rushing out with killer mode on with no apparent reason whatsoever"
It was important that I told you this part of my story, so you have a better understanding of my motivations and reasons for practising this profession. That was how my life took a turn for the best(I know it was best). I ended up following Lara and sharing her quest on defeating every cultist we got our hands upon. She trained me on demon hunter magic, quickly discovering I had an affinity for lightning and could sometimes(rarely if I was at max concentration) communicate with spirits. She showed me everything to know about identity changing, starting anew and how to best keep a low profile. My feelings for her increased as time passed until I came open with them, expecting the worse of the worse rejections she smiled and replied:"What took you so long?" Than we started kissing and kissing and ju..jus..just kissing yeah... and we lived happily ever after(that's what I would like to write). But as we are all aware of, the world is a cruel place that tries its best to depress you and bring you down. Something occurred and we separated(that story is for another time), until now I have been trying my best to track her, finding Cult rituals taking place and waiting as much as I can manage for a chance to see her again. One of the cult sacrificial rituals that I interrupted had a large piece of ancient paper hanging in the wall. After 3 weeks of trying to decode it, it prophesies of a grand ritual taking place 3 years from now. If I had any chance of meeting Lara again I was 100% certain this would be it. I have 3 years of preparation time. First and foremost I need a team of able demon hunters to assist me on my quest. It now begins...
Daily Clothing: As seen in the above picture, she also wears combat boots.
Weapon: Anya has two daggers made out of a iron/silver alloy, both hidden. One in her boot and one in a holster under her shirt that rests in the middle of her chest. She tends to only wield one at a time, rarely does she use both or have to use both.
Equipment: Anya has a small leather satchel she usually carries on her right shoulder containing a flask of holy water, some paper, and a flask of rum mixed with blood.
Extra Clothing: She has an exact replica of her outfit in case it gets damaged. She also has a light pink hoodie for when it gets cold.
Elementals: Healing Elemental, Lust Elemental.
Abilities: Anya has the ability to heal her wounds much like any vampire, drink blood get healed. The more blood, the faster she heals. Anya also has vampiric charm, wherein she can get almost anyone to do just about anything. The more blood she has or the weaker the mind she's dealing with, the more successful her charm is.
Bio: Anya was a normal girl growing up, went to a nice school and had plenty of friends. 'Course, things were a lot different back then, vampires however never really change. She was abducted late one night while she was walking home from a friends house, by what she never fully knew until after it was over.
She was nearly drained and left on the brink of death in an alleyway, luckily she was found by a police offer and rushed to a hospital. She recovered fully, and at a surprisingly fast rate. It wasn't until a few weeks after she got home did..things..begin to happen.
She slaughtered her parents in a rage of blood-lust, terrified at what she'd done and what would happen if anyone found out, she ran away. She lived in the streets, using the occasional passerby and homeless person as a food source, traveling from city to city.
A little over a hundred years passed, and she eventually joined Demon Hunter: Chicago. She regretted what she had did to her parents, everyone else..not so much. She joined so she could help cut back on the murders and such, as well as kill other vampires that decided they didn't like the concept of being stealthy in their killing.
In reality, she joined because the other supernaturals were giving her kind a bad name, and some in a very obvious way.
Personality: Straight up yandere and sadistic, generally carefree and happy as well. Needless to say, she's a bit odd.
Elementals and Abilities Elementals: Spiritual Elemental, Psychic Elemental Abilities: Can speak to ghosts, Seeing the future (Requires long ritual and certain items depending on what future.), Reading peoples minds.
Companions:
Biography: David Solomon was born to a large and proud family of demon hunters, most of which could trace their origin back to King Solomon himself. With his family also being founding members of the Templar order the church helped give his family a cause. To fight heretics, witches, and monsters most foul in the name of their god. The Solomon's did just that forming many guilds or covenants that trained new members. Yet when the Solomon's became to powerful they were declared Witches and the order they had founded turned on them. Fleeing the Catholics they came to the America's where they began to rebuild.
The Solomon's built new orders, they helped the Wiccans and learn the secrets. They went from hunters to protects, many Wiccan's with long bloodlines would choose a Solomon as their protector. Of course some Solomon's never receive a charge or no Wiccan's yet have need of one. Then they are told to go out into the world and hunt, to become masters of their craft and return to teach others the skills they will need to protect their charges. David was one such boy, having no to protect he has traveled to Chicago from his home in London.
Now the young demon hunter seeks to rid the city of it's nightmare and perhaps bring in new friends. The Solomon's take any allies they can find in this world and the next, as if they fall the longest line of demon hunters in the world vanish with them.
These philosophies have shaped David's life and he see's himself as a protector of all willing to put himself between anyone and a threat if he believes they deserve saving. A believe in god yet user of Wiccan magic and of their rituals the Solomons have blended together magics from around the globe making their magic almost a unique brand of it's own. The staff of Solomon he carries is actually the same staff carried by King Solomon when he used it banish demons and drive back other horrors. It acts as amp for his magic and of course is one of the main parts of his future seeing skills without it will not work.
The Basics Name: Dmitri Pavlovich Age: 19 Gender: Male Species: Human
On-Hand Daily clothing: Military surplus for the most part, some old KGB memorabilia, specifically, because he likes to play up the image. Weapon: Semi-auto .38, nine round mag, usually concealed in a belt pouch or hip pocket, a set of eight matching throwing knives, kept in sleeves at the wrists. Keeps a two foot length of lead pipe in the Wagon. Prefers to do things as indirectly as possible. Equipment: Water resistant watch, binoculars, a thin silver whistle, three canteens, two of holy water, one of vodka. Extra clothing: Extra shirt and trousers, with a thick wool coat to keep heavy winds at bay.
Elementals and Abilities Elementals: Water + Lightning Abilities: Creation & Manipulation of water, Creation of lightning.
Companions: The haunts of past failures.
Biography: Russian mafia member, US Soldier(National Guard), and small time mariner out on the lake. The rest you don't need to know, or don't want to know, probably both. He always seems to be able to know something about what's going on, though usually nothing specific. He can also get items that are hard to acquire, but it all costs him, and it's never cheap enough to be payed off in cash. So he tries not to use his resources unless he has too. He owns a deep blue Volvo XC70 T6, it's surprisingly low profile, fast, and has plenty of cargo space, all highly useful for a mafia man.
Born into the Russian Mob, he's had a rough life so far. He considers the year a good one if he's lost less than three friends that year. He remembers only two good years. Plagued by the horrors he'd seen he signed on with JROTC in highschool. He excelled, and was the top of his class, even in academics. He understands that muscling through a problem is expensive, and with troubles in the mother land increasing, his small branch of the family was getting pressured out of Chicago's more profitable districts. His Uncle, the head of the Chicago branch, was a clever weasel of a man, a bit cowardly in a direct confrontation, he was the master of plots, deception, and subterfuge. Dmitri was not as clever as his uncle, but he knew to keep his nose as clean as possible, the men with clean noses lived longer than the others did.
His uncle didn't like his reluctance to be a family man, but didn't push to hard, so long as he came when called, and didn't mind doing little jobs every now and again. Dmitri had obliged him at every turn so far. Though he wondered how long it could last...
Name: Adelaide "Addie" Hart Age: 18 Gender: Female Species: Human
On-Hand Daily clothing: Casual (i.e. skinny jeans, t-shirt or sweater depending on weather, denim jacket) Weapon: None, but trained in self defense (kickboxing) Equipment: Backpack Extra clothing: A warmer coat, gloves, and hat for when that midwest bipolar weather acts up.
Elementals and Abilities Elementals (2 max, may not contradict; example: no fire and water): Psychic and lightning Abilities (3 max, may not contradict): Read Minds, And Manipulate thoughts, power over electronics.
Companions
Biography [Please Be Detailed.] Adelaide, was born in Chicago, IL. Her mom moved her out of state to California when things started getting crazy years ago. She has few memories of her early life with her mom, as her mom died when she was three (in a freak accident cause by an electrical fire), just over a year after moving to San Francisco. Addie, was placed in the foster system. In her teen years things were relatively easy, she just seemed to know how to please people, and get people to help her out. Though sometimes, she learned all too fast, what you think you want isn't the greatest. In late high school she fell in love with analog photography, (tried digital, but technology doesn't really agree with her most of the time) and decided to attend Art Institute in Chicago, she tried to convince herself, not to find out the truth about her father. Or why her mother was so desperate to leave, sometimes the truth just has a way of catching up with you.
Akira is a mostly humanoid demon, standing slightly over 6’3, her height accentuated by her fine posture. Her skin is the same rough black as a piece of charcoal, and her eyes glow a fiery red similar to molten lava. Her surprisingly soft and well-rounded facial features clash with her unnaturally sharp teeth, which tend to shine whenever she smiles. A plume of hair the same shade of red as her eyes runs from her head to the small of her back, which is surrounded by a pair of large black wings that fold almost perfectly into her back when not in use. A long, spaded tail protrudes from below her waist, usually resting alongside her well-defined legs. Her fingers are normally clawed, but she tries to keep them filed down when she can.
Glamoured, her skin turns from black to olive. Her eyes become a much more mundane shade of brown, and her plume of fiery red-orange hair is replaced by a head of black hair of equal length, which she tends to let fall behind her naturally. Her claws are replaced by short fingernails, and her tail and wings are completely hidden, though she generally hides them under her clothes anyways. Though she passes for a human and channels a decent portion of her energy into enhancing the glamour to cover senses other than sight, her disguise is ultimately cosmetic, and she can only manage to fool five of the six senses.
The Basics Name: Akira Hazetaka (true name untranscribable to human writing) Age: 548 Gender: Female Species: Demon
On-Hand Daily clothing:
A black textile motorcycle jacket, worn over a red T-shirt reading “Devils Never Cry” layered over a black, long-sleeved T-shirt.
Typical jeans held by an unremarkable black belt.
Black leather boots worn over a long pair of socks.
Weapon: A curious weapon made of congealed hellfire. It normally resides in Hell, though she can summon it as either a longsword or a trident whenever she pleases. Equipment: Her jacket, fitted with a surprising amount of pockets of varying sizes. Extra clothing: One extra grey long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black jeans. The set of armor she left Hell in
Elementals and Abilities Elementals: Fire Abilities: Normally, Akira has the ability to both control the movement of air and ignite it as needed, but with a portion of her power dedicated to reinforcing her glamour, she can only create and control wind on its own. She can similarly use this control over heat to give lift to her normally insufficient wings, again, provided she isn’t glamoured. In either state, she possesses speed and endurance far beyond human limits, as well as a complete resistance to high temperatures.
Companions Paxton “Pax” Gerelade
Biography
Akira was born out of the many, many conflicts of the 15th century. Perhaps “born” would be a misleading term, though. She had no true parents, family, or childhood to guide and distinguish her growth. She simply appeared in Hell one day as normal as any other, and those stronger and smarter than her decided her task based on her own strengths. Due to her ability to traverse any plane of Hell astoundingly quickly, she was almost exclusively tasked with carrying and delivering all manner of things; resources she wasn’t allowed to use, information that she wasn’t allowed to know, in addition to any other odd jobs that could be assigned. Essentially, a glorified imp. Not that she really minded; travelling around as much as she did kept her mind off of the more depressing aspects of her situation.
But it turned out that Hell just gets boring after a few centuries. To her, at least. She was smart enough to know that she was too weak to climb any higher up the hierarchy. And as human technology and culture advanced, word of it began to trickle down from those lucky enough to leave to see it. She sought out this information wherever and however she could, the subject of humanity interesting her now more than ever. She wondered what it would be like to see it for herself, decade after decade, until one day, she encountered something she’d never seen before in any of her travels: A glowing circle on the ground, adorned with figures she didn’t quite understand. A voice spoke to her from it, in a language that she did understand. It asked her a few questions about her home and her kind, which she answered tentatively. After a while, she was asked if she wanted to leave. She hesitated, wondering if she had anything left to lose. Shrugging, she threw aside whatever cargo she was carrying at the time and nodded, and was whisked away to another world.
Though she actually wasn’t quite sure what she would do with her life in the human world, the man who pulled her into it, Paxton Gerelade, insisted that she stay and tell him more about demons and Hell. She agreed, partially because she felt indebted to him a chance at life “up above”, and partially because she was interested in learning more about the art of fighting known as demon hunting. Despite Paxton’s glamour allowing him to pass for a human for the most part, she has much more trouble getting a job, and has delegated herself to both keeping the apartment in clean and working order alongside being Paxton’s partner in crime.
Paxton is a fairly tall man, standing at about 6'4 when he isn't slouched over and 6'2 when he is. The bad posture is often due to the weight of his overcoat, it's bulk hiding most of his thin and lanky form beneath it. His arms and fingers in particular are oddly long, not by much when properly compared to another person, but slightly disproportionate even for him. That's not to say he's bony however, as his body carries enough bulk to properly cover what muscle he has; giving him a soft but still somewhat lean look to his physique.
His facial structure is rather narrow, his abundance of facial hair helping balance this out similar to what his coat does for his thin body. Paxton's head is covered in hair in fact, the tangled, hazel brown locks cut at uneven intervals all around his skull. Most of the hair on his right side is longer, done up here and there in a few messy braids, while the hair on his left side tends to be shorter and in some places even patchy looking if you were to ruffle it around a bit. His hair flows seamlessly into sideburns to become his beard, the mass of scruffy fluff about a foot long after leaving his chin and appears to only be somewhat well kept. His mouth is still easily visible beneath the whiskers, but his lips are thin and well hidden should he keep his mouth shut.
Underneath his cloak of hair, Paxton's skin tone holds the slightest undertones of olive shading though these are faded given the paleness of his face. Dark circles often rest underneath his deep brown, almost black eyes which are accented by surprisingly sharp eyebrows and the beginnings of what look like crows feet wrinkles. Most of his forehead is hidden by a light curtain of hair, and finally at the center of his face is a long and blunt nose, the bridge well defined and leading noticeably all the way up towards his brow.
The Basics Name: Paxton Gerelade Age: 32 Gender: Male Species: Human. Does not identify as one.
On-Hand Daily clothing: A large, faded black overcoat is Paxton's primary attire, the thick cloth jacket covering his arms and reaching low enough to go down to his knees. Underneath this he normally wears a colourful undershirt, and a brown pair of suit pants that have certainly seen better days being somewhat tattered at the bottoms. His shoes are simple and black in colour, made from some sort of imitation leather and with soles that scuff easily. Finally, around his neck and hidden beneath his beard is a large, amulet like box latched shut and decorated with a Wicca pentagram. Weapon: -A wooden bo staff, the ends and center reinforced with iron and silver -A Davis P-32 handgun covered in scuffs Equipment: -His overcoat, fitted with enough pockets on the inside to carry most of his things -An extra round of bullets -An old, out of date codex on demon kind -Several pouches of chalk and salt -A pouch of silver dust -A pair of reading glasses -A wooden stake -His wallet, cell phone, keys, etc. Extra clothing: Different shirts, socks, underwear, and a few pairs of pants; all at his apartment
Elementals and Abilities Elementals: None Abilities: -Demon tongue: can speak and understand most non-human tongues. Unable to read written forms. -Summoner: has practice in both summoning and banishing spirits and demons, though this often requires plenty of set up. -Glamorous: Able to put weak glamours over objects and if given aid, living things.
Companions: Madonna (often shortened to 'Madi'), a lesser shadow imp that is glamoured to appear as an African Grey Parrot in public. Un-glamoured, Madi is a being made of solid shadow with a form akin to a tiny gargoyle. Due to the nature of shadow imps this shape can change dramatically, but it always reverts back to the same winged, stocky humanoid form.
Biography:
Gerelade: a family name that had been tied with demon hunters for generations. Never remembered but always prevailing, only a few Gerelades ever had their names mean anything through the long course of shrouded history that is demon hunting. Gerald Gerelade was not one of these remembered men, his deeds insignificant and isolated in the small mountain town of Jacksonville, Oregon. He never strived for greatness, and never sought any more of a fight than what few demons would find their way to his home town. His son however, he saw greatness in.
Despite his mother's wishes against it, starting from a young age Paxton began to learn about the hidden world his father had come from. The young boy showed interest, both in the art of fighting, and the creatures these methods were brought upon. As the years went by though, Paxton's views began to shift. Curious as he was, Paxton began to question rules and tradition, having been unclear on how things could be so black and white. He wanted to know why demons were hunted, and slaughtered, and erased from history. His father, unapproving of this line of thinking, had responded with a swift and cold, "Because they deserve no better."
Paxton never spoke against his father again, knowing it would only sprout more issues. He knew his father was wrong though; he saw it in the eyes of the first demon he ever slew. It knew regret. It knew pain. It knew to fear. These thoughts plagued Paxton's mind for many years, and as he grew older and better at his father's craft, he began to question if what he was doing was even right. Knowing his father would neglect any reason; Paxton took what he could and fled his home- deciding a life on the road would be better than festering in a pool of biased hate that was his father's ideals.
So Paxton roamed, his guide to the world a tattered and ancient book he'd stolen from his father. It spoke of dark things, rituals, twisted magic, and all the blood that would need to be shed on either side of the fight. To be human, a young Paxton scoffed, looking down at his own two hands and feeling a tinge of hatred for their form. It was on that day that Paxton changed his life forever; on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, the young man cut out his tongue and replaced it with a rune on the bottom of his pallet. Blood spattered the pages that detailed the ritual, promising clarity in exchange for the thing that kept his voice tied to his physical form. Gurgled cries drowned out the subtle symphony of the night, and in the morning Paxton marched to the next town covered in blood with his own mangled tongue clutched in his hand. Though painful, Paxton saw what he did as necessary should he continue on his current path. He wanted to learn more about demons, and monsters, and the things lurking just out of sight- so now he could speak to them directly, and pose them with any question he desired. All that was left now was to find a demon to talk to.
For years, the young man wandered on his own; hardly an adult in a world he only knew so much about. That's not to say he wasn't safe however, and his father's training proved useful against both man and demon alike. But the demons were what Paxton sought on his journey; he was drawn to their presence like a small child is drawn to the lions at a zoo. Paxton knew these creatures could end him but they were too fascinating to ignore, and so he spent his years pursuing them in hopes of learning more.
Paxton grew older, his form hardened by his life on the road, and day by day he continued to dig for answers and knowledge on demon kind besides ways to kill them. Tracking down cults had become a hobby of his, and through them he learned rituals and prayers meant to find aid in the monsters that lurked beyond this worldly realm. From these people he learned how to harness the power to twist the mind's eye, and hide things from those who didn't care to look. They nurtured Paxton's ideas, each clan he visited often more than accomidating of new members, trusting they weren't looking for a lamb to lead to slaughter. It was this way that Paxton corrupted his art into something he saw as more openminded than simple demon hunting. Paxton became an ally to these beings, working to learn from them as he grew in strength and experience.
Recently he has grown tired of the vagabond's lifestyle, and after learning of the rumors regarding Chicago's current state Paxton left for the city and set out to make a place for himself. Considering the suicide rates having skyrocketed, there were more places to live than one could expect in such a large city. That's not to say his shitty apartment was cheap though, as some dishonest funds had to be raised to afford a place even in the sketchier parts of the city. Sketchy suited Paxton's needs however, as nobody ever cares much for one or two more missing peoples.
