Death Grips - Ring a BellName: Warren Keegan
Alias: Formerly Springheeled Jack, currently Dhampir
Age: 209 - Physically 22
Personality: Relentless, impulsive, cocky, altruistic, humorous.
Archetype: Supernatural
Powers:
Warren's powers stem from his Dhampir physiology. As a result, his body as a whole is a lot more enhanced than the average human. Furthermore, although his abilities are not as powerful as they would be without his necklace, he is able to breathe a small amount of fire, enough to melt iron, but not for a long enough time to do any proper damage to a super-person.
If he were to take off his necklace he would only be able to properly control his actions for a rather short amount of time before reverting back to his bloodlusted ways. However, his abilities would enhance greatly, he would be able to breathe much hotter flame and even grow wings.
Weaknesses:
While not a proper weakness, religious paraphernalia makes Warren feel rather queasy. Furthermore, a rather large weakness for him is his reliance on blood. If he doesn't drink fresh human blood at least once a week he begins to gradually become weaker until his eventual death. He is currently supplied blood through a blood bank, but if this were to run out then he may have to resort to more drastic measures. Lastly, he is weaker to silver and a weapon made from this harms him as it would any normal human.
On top of all of this, Warren is still half human. Enough punishment is bound to kill him and although he can survive a few bullets, a shotgun blast to the face will still destroy his brain.
Appearance:
Warren stands at 6 foot and has a fit physique. His hair is rather unkempt and dark black. His facial hair is rather scruffy, but he shaves it every now and then to stop it from becoming a full beard. While he has grown rather accustomed to the fashion trends of today, his hero garb consists his old victorian longcoat, waistcoat and trousers accompanied with a hood to obscure his identity to a degree. Furthermore, he bears his fangs more publicly and his eyes change into a bright red hue.
Character Evolution: He wishes to learn how to better control his 'curse' and wishes to learn more about current society.
BRIEF Bio:
Warren was born just before the start of the Victorian era to a vampire and a human. The vampire, an esteemed Marquess of Ireland, kept as much distance as possible from the young cockney peasant girl he had impregnated and their son. To keep her quiet, he often sent payments, varying in size depending on how generous he felt.
Warren grew up in a time that was rife with child labour. He had to begin working at a factory from a young age and grew up fighting with the various street children and thugs that riddled London at the time. He only discovered his powers during puberty, when he miraculously managed to take on a group of men trying to mug him on his way home from work without taking a scratch. The power began to take a violent turn near the end of puberty. He began lusting for blood, and too long without the taste of it would turn him into a shell of violence. He couldn't control his actions as he flew into the night and assaulted victim after victim in the pursuit of blood. Eventually he gained the nickname 'Springheeled Jack'. Tales of his assaults were often exaggerated, but a degree of truth remained in most.
This went on for a few years, until he was about 20 and was confronted by an alchemist who had laid a trap for the young Dhampir. He had created a necklace, infused with sunlight and silver which dampened his abilities greatly and made him a lot more level headed. Alas, the alchemist was much too safe to believe Warren's pleas of innocence and managed to send him into a comatose state before burying him deep in a stone tomb underground.
Warren woke up years later, having been transported to the Gotham museum under the pretense that his rather ornate tomb was empty. A villain attempting to steal said tomb triggered his awakening and the ensuing fight with Batman only rose the crime fighters awareness of Warren's presence. Batman worked to reintegrate Warren into modern society and adapted his powers for use in crime fighting.
Notes:
-Warren utilizes a pair of spiked knuckle dusters.
Sample Post:
The night was cold and damp. Rain poured heavily onto Warren as he sat, perched on a rooftop peering over the urban metropolis that lay before him. Batman had given him an earpiece that could tap into police radio frequencies. Warren had little idea how to use it, but it seemed to be working. Wave after wave of small crimes came in through the earpiece. It seemed to be a rather quiet night, nothing really of concern.
Well that jinxed it.
Warren's ear exploded with news of a hostage situation inside an apartment complex just south of where he was now. He rose to his feet, turning on his heel before sprinting and leaping across the roof tops until he was within eye sight of the situation. A crowd of police officers had formed under the moonlight. Some of the few civilians who had managed to escape were also a part of the crowd, staring up in wonderment at the building as if hoping something bad would happen.
Warren bared his fangs, scanning the building for the room they were held in. He found it, top floor. Without as much as a word he leaped from the roof onto the side of the apartment, clambering up the building like a demon, even jamming his fist into the side of the wall at one point or another just to get a grip. He was starting to feel weak, his blood wasn't to arrive for another few days and he couldn't risk another night being weak.
Soon enough he was at the window of the room. He grabbed a flower pot hanging on the fire escape and with one accurate throw, knocked out the lights in the room sending the kidnappers into darkness kicking and swearing.
"I'll give you one chance, put down your guns and put your hands behind your head or things get messy." He demanded in his usual cockney drawl.
"Fuck you, limey!" Was the only reply he got.
"I was hoping you'd say that." He replied, vaulting into the room and slide tackling one of the criminals before hammer punching his nose to a sickening crunch, signalling one of his friends to turn and begin firing.
The room was lit up by gunfire as a bullet passed through Warren's thigh. As if it was nothing he sprinted towards the gunfire, ripping the gun from the gunmans hands and smacking him across the jaw with it, sending him flying into the fridge. The last gunman was easy, all bark and no bite, couldn't even fire the gun. Warren simply made his way over to him before sinking his teeth into his throat and leaving him on the floor, too weak to move. He'd survive, but he'd feel slightly lightheaded for the next few days.
Geese
Half Pint