Styxx Acheron — Roleplayer Guild

@Rilla@Zyamasiel@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Circ
Grim Nightwalker


-Nicknames / Alias-
-G
-Asshole
-Nightwalker
-Silentfoot
-cowboy

-Age-
156 years

-Date of Birth-
1860, August 26th

-Gender-
Male

-Sexual Orientation-
Straight

-Occupation-
He does freelance spying. however, he would prefer a contract that's at least ten years or so, or maybe for someone to bond with him.

-Education-
He's always loved knowledge, even in the 1800's, so he's about college level and steadily growing.

-Languages-
-Several Native American Dialects
-English
-Spanish
-Irish
-French
-Russian

-Hair Color-
Blackish brown

-Eye Color-
Gold

-Weight-
150 pounds

-Height-
6'3

-Scars/Tattoos/Piercings-
-Left side lip ring
-Both ears
-Tattoo on his left arm.

-Alternate Form


-Personality-
Grim is gentle towards females and children, and loves to spy on people. He is loyal, catty, sarcastic, has a dark sense of humor at times, and is fierce and protective. He likes to wander, and he is aloof and cold towards other males who aren't his friends.



-Species-
Familiar Spirit

-Supernatural Abilities-
-Can change from human to cat
-Level 2 telepathy in both cat and human forms
-Feline reflexes and senses, level 4
-Has both human and feline spirit shape
-Spiritual presence masking, level 3

-Strengths-
-Quick
-calm
-kind
-fierce
-protective
-loving
-Due to high metabolism it takes as many as twelve shots of Jack Daniels whisky to get even slightly buzzed
-good with guns, swords and knives, Level 3
-hand to hand fighting, level 3
-an excellent spy, level 3

-Weaknesses-
-Sometimes overly cocky
-cold
-aloof
-rude to other males except for a few friends
-has a habit of raiding the fridge for the cheddar cheese

-Likes-
Cheddar cheese-especially if it's sharp or really sharp
-coffee
-tea
-milk
-small children
-animals
-spying on people-even his friends
-sarcasm
-rock and alternative rock
-black eyeliner and eye shadow
-joking around with friends
-playing games and pranks

-Dislikes-
-Broccoli, beer
-blue cheese
-when people touch his weapons without asking
-Justin bieber
-most rap except for when it's in a Falling In Reverse song
-wet socks
-cold feet
-shrimp
-oysters
-mussels



-History-
Grim was technically born as a witch's familiar. However, the witch already had a familiar; his mother. So she was selling her kittens and he was bought for a settler family's four year old son as a present. Grim and the child, Travis, bonded, as familiars and their counterparts do. Wherever Travis went, Grim followed. Grim had originally named Grin when Travis was learning to speak. Travis could not pronounce his N's very well and it ended up sounding like Grin, so they just went with it. Travis was a bright boy, but he had heart problems, and when he was five, he died in his sleep due to what would be called a heart attack.

Grim stared as Travis's spirit rose from his still warm body, and mewed plaintively, a sound of sorrow. Travis only shook his head and pointed to his body.

"I gotsta leave, Grim," Travis's ghostly boy voice pulled at the young feline's heart. "But I don't want to."

Grim merrowed and twitched his tail.

"We can do that?" Travis's bright, almost white blue eyes were wide and showed the walls of the log cabin through his head. Grim purred and tucked a paw underneath himself.

"If you're sure," Travis nodded slowly. Grim closed his eyes and his spirit rose from his body, though his heart still beat. Cat and child floated towards one another, and their spirits blurred together, melding. When they cleared, the feline spirit was there, but it flickered to that of a boy with dark brown hair and golden eyes. The flickering shape twitched its tail and floated into the feline body. The cat then opened its eyes and got up to curl onto the boy's chest, digging claws into cold flesh. 

Blood welled, binding both human and feline shapes together. The feline shape melted into the child, and all was quiet and still until Travis's parents woke up. The mother wailed her sorrow when she felt her baby boy's cold skin. There was a funeral and a small, sad little coffin made of cedar buried in their yard. All day, their neighbors, friends and family came over to pay their respects to the child and to console the heartbroken young couple. And when night fell, something arose from the fresh dirt of the small grave.

A small, brown paw, pink nose and furry head followed by an equally furry body and supple tail. The feline shook it's fur out and set out for a new life.

Grim learned how to shift from one form to another, and grew up at the rate that a human child does, and his feline form was the same age as his human form. He never forgot what it was to be bound to another person's spirit, and it made him restless for awhile. At one point, he was adopted by a Native American tribe, and he lived there with him. When they saw what he could do, they revered and respected him when their shaman told them he meant them no harm, that he was just a restless spirit looking for someplace to call home. The shaman let him bond with him, and he became known as Walks At Night, which was later shortened to Nightwalker. They taught him everything they could while he stayed with them, and when the shaman died, he went wandering again.

He was about eighteen, when he finally settled at a ranch and learned how to do farm stuff, working his way up from stableboy to bronco rider and trainer. He lived there until he was twenty six and realized that he no longer aged physically. He wandered again. He would wander all over and he still does. He's restless.

"Alright, lass!" Lucca says as he turns his bike towards the car. "Follow me, aye? I've a feeling I can see the path for you."

There was a strange sort of beauty in watching all of those drones fall out of the sky. It reminded him of this movie he had watched once, an apocalyptic sort of one, and there had been flaming rocks that fell down in slow motion in one of the scenes, and it had been beautiful in a devastating way.

And as bullets whizzed past them, Lucca grimaced as one caught him in the ribs. Unfortunately, it didn't come out of the other side, and he took a moment to take off his shirt and dig it out with his claws, flinging the bullet to the pavement. He snarled a gaelic curse and wiped his blood on his black jeans. If he got shot again, it wouldn't matter as long as they didn't hit anything vital and he could find someplace where he could heal for an hour or two.

He'd go back to the hotel for his body armor, later. Right now, though, he twisted the throttle on his bike and began to speed off, hoping that the car full of people would follow. He zigged and zagged in order to be a harder target to shoot at.

But fuck he just got shot again, the bullet catching his ear and part of his cheek, but thankfully it didn't get lodged in his face. He shook his head, and his longish black hair got stuck in the blood. He raced down the bridge.

@Dark Light @Antarctic Termite @LPRKN @JaceBeleren @HeroicSociopath @SIGINT
(Sorry it's so short.)

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