Tempest — Roleplayer Guild

Name: Demetri Voskov
Age: Turned when 28, unknown age
Sex: Male
Race: Draugr
Background: Volunteer
Appearance: Standing at the all too great 5'11" with squared and sharp features, Demetri has a crop of short blonde hair on his head. He has a pair of serious blue eyes that seem to have a hollow, dead look to them, which he often hides with a pair of sunglasses. He has hard lines to his face despite his relatively young years and is pale as death. Often times, he is wearing an expensive looking suit in dark, solid colours with a pair of gloves on to match, lest he get them dirty.

Biography: Demetri was a foreigner from the across the pond and is still apparent in his slight accent despite his attempts to mask it. He came from a small well-to-do family, but before one of the wars (he fails to mention which, leaving you guessing his age), they had immigrated. They had lived further west for awhile, but Demetri never much cared for the scenery. So as he reached of age, he struck out on his own moved to the coast, to Vanaheim.
His initial arrival was less than pleasant, that much he will say. He talks a little about working on at the pier but never quite say where or what his business entails. It is apparent, though, that he is a bit more familiar with the dealings of Stray Alley than he lets on. Someone once guessed that he was a conman; he just smiled and shrugged. Perhaps, it was shady dealings on Crier Docks that led to his transformation.

He never explains the conditions, but he tells that he met a woman, pale as death and cold to the touch. He thought at first she had caught frightfully ill. The next thing he knows, though, he awakens, feeling cold and stiff and knowing something was terribly amiss.

It was a harsh realization to come to that he was dead but still lingered. He scarcely knew how to conduct himself and fell into a bit of a disarray. He was a disheveled monster as he saw it and he scarcely knew what to do with himself aside from lurk in the shadows.

At least, until her began to grow weary of that and discovered an easier way. It seamed when one cleaned themselves up and relied a bit more upon their natural talents they could make their way within the world even as a bloodsucking fiend of the night. There was really no need to be so uncouth about it. He was a monster, but at least he was a civilized one.

It was with this practice that he began to build himself up over time and from a modest life made connections and friends in high places. With those friends he built himself a small fortune and has been able to set himself up quite nicely, living in Vanaheim's Westerly Heights as one of the city's elites.

Stats

Focus: 7
Resistance: 5
Acrobatics: 3
Might: 1
Expertise: 4
Subterfuge: 10 (+1)


Traits


Friends Through the Ages: An old man like Demetri has been around the block a few times and doing that, he's made a few friends and connections. Some of them with well-to-do families, some just some scrappy thugs, whatever suited his fancy at the time. That said, in most situations, he can usually find some friend of a friend of a friend of his willing to lend a hand.
Hypnotic Voice: Demetri possesses the ability to hypnotize people for a brief period of time simply by the sound of his voice. He can issue simple commands that the individual will follow through. The only catch of this is that the individual cannot do anything obviously suicidal. Things that are very against their character, ie) shooting a loved one, would obviously have a high chance to break their trance as well.



Name: Baldyr Keaton
Age: 19
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Background: Officer
Appearance: Baldyr is a lanky man that looks like he never made it out of his teens standing at 5'11". He does not have much muscle on his body, and as frustrating as it is for him, he has a small paunch of baby fat, all of which he tries to hide typically by wearing clothes too big on his gangly frame. His hair is a light brunette with a natural cowlick at the front that makes it stick up just a bit. His face is still softer with baby fat that just won't seem to go away. His eyes are a pale hazel with brown flecks inside them. His ears are both pierced, with his left ear having two small clips upon the upper curve. He has a small, upturned button nose and his cheeks are dusted with freckles. There is a small nick of a scar upon his right eyebrow and a large burn scar along his left wrist. He persistantly wears a crystal necklace about his neck and whenever he has the chance, he prefers to wear clothing he carefully stitched himself as part of some cosplay costume.

Biography: Baldyr was born to a middle-class family in a more sparse part of his country. He was the middle child, having an older sister and a younger brother. His mother (Karrin) worked as a nurse as his father (Burt) worked as a technician. They lived in an old house for the longest time with their goofy chocolate lab. Over all, the family got along well enough in most regards, though they always had their odd dysfunctional spats here and there as he grew up. He got used to being looked over and fading into the woodworks as his sister, Bailey, stole the spotlight in her academic achievements and his brother, Benjamin, became the sports all-star of the family. It seemed that the only time he really got noticed was when he was making trouble or being questioned why he was an average student and a reclusive geek. He was happy, though, to be paid no mind by no one really, save for his grandmother, Scarlet. Claim as she might to hold no favorites, it was apparent to everyone Baldyr was.

Much of Baldyr's childhood revolved around his computer; he contented himself playing video games and reading old fictions about other worlds, both of advanced civilizations in another galaxy and those filled with magic and wonder. When he was not playing games or reading, he was typically pirating some movie or show he had never seen before. It was an introverted life, where much of his friends were on the other side of a screen.

Upon turning 15, his father was offered a job as the head of the IT department for a major corporation in the city. His sister was already in college and decided to move out on her own while his brother cried out about having to leave his friends and team. Baldyr himself was relieved by the change of scenery, having no love for the small town life. For a time, they stayed with his grandmother Scarlet. Baldyr was happy to hear many of her superstitions and home remedies for aches, illnesses and sorrows. She was a firm believer that her good cooking and good company could lift any spirits. He struggled with a developing depression. Eventually, it got better. He was unsure if it was because of his grandmother's intervention or the myriad of medications and therapists he was cycled through.

He was sad when they finally moved into a house of their own. However, in the time since moving, Baldyr had found himself an odd group of friends with similar interests and they began to hang out outside the house. Their favorite thing to do involved conventions for their various loves. At a film festival just a few months ago, Baldyr ended up meeting his first girlfriend, Cassandra. It lasted for a time, but something always felt off to him during the events. He chalked it up to her being quite the nutcase and split ways.

With that leg of his life over, he turned his life to other matters... Something more stable, something he could put faith in. The law seemed suitable enough. They trusted him enough with a gun, at least, which was more than he could say of most of his family. It helped to pay the bills, when his grandmother started going downhill. He stuck with it, even when things started to get hard through police academy, if only to have a steady job for her. Besides, it made her so proud that he was doing something so chivalrous with his life.

Of course, never did he think he would be amidst those selected for this special task force thanks to this Adam Dyer. He has his concerns that it might be because he has been logging too many hours in his favorite MMO lately.

Stats

Focus: 7
Resistance: 5
Acrobatics: 4
Might: 3
Expertise: 8 (+1)
Subterfuge: 5


Traits


I Saw It In a Game: Baldyr is very genre savvy and has an extensive knowledge of videogames, comic books, fantasy stories, sci-fi and well... the realm of geek. He likes to take knowledge from these things and apply it to his real life... And sometimes, this might just help, say, in encountering some creature and just possibly knowing a trick to kicking its butt. Or knowing that the villian always monologues before killing you. Or to get to the secret passage, you pull the third book on the right.
Chubby Cheeks: Baldyr is a cutie for the ages, people just love those chubby cheeks! His baby face just goes to make it that much harder to hate him, make him a target or overall cause any problems for him... but it also seems to make it hard to take him seriously or think of him as more than some kid brother.



Name: Aibell "The Banshee" O'Keeres
Age: 24
Sex: Female
Race: Werebeast [Weremadillo, Human]
Background: Criminal
Appearance: Human: Aibell stands at roughly 5'3" and weighs in at approximately 150 lbs with her stocky, athletic frame despite her small stature. She has obviously bleached and dyed white hair that she carefully styles but quite often falls into disarray with her activities of the day. Her eyes are a pale hazel, which, with her rounded face reflect youth and softness that contrast with her rough, wider features. Along much of her body, heavy scarring can be seen of various nature: Cuts, bullet wounds, burns, so on and so forth, but nothing that would look so serious as on a typical human. However, along her arms are trackmarks, unaffected by her greater regenerative capabilities. Quite oddly, she wears a very rigid formal attire: slacks, long-sleeved button-up shirt, a vest. If asked, she often says its because it shreds easier upon transforming. In reality, its to hide her scarring and to try and look as cleanly as possible to demonstrate her change of life.

Weremadillo: Aibell shifts into a sheer monolith of raw power, clocking in at just about 8' and her mass more than doubling over 350lbs as she accumulates protective scales, bands and spurs. She is a dusty tan colour and her plates are marked with past abuses and scars. Her jaw expands in order to accommodate the fact she now has triple the razor sharp teeth. Her hands have transfigured into long claws, thumbs shifting from their opposable position to become long sickle-shaped shredders.

Biography: Aibell hardly had a life of entitlement. Her parents were hardly well-to-do. They struggled to meet the bills, even with the blood donations they gave to the state their material comforts were not much. She hardly went to school, finding it far more preferable to skip out and make her way about town with her friends and see whatever they could do to idle the days away.

It started out just drinking and getting into a little trouble here and there. Lifting something from a store, picking a pocket to have a little extra spending money at an arcade or whatever they wanted to waste it on. It wasn't long before they started getting into more serious things, though. Some of her friends found their way into gangs. Some of them wound up dead. Aibell herself ended up a little up better, at least in her eyes. All she got into was a bit of drug running for a dealer... And dipping into the supplies. No one noticed if she skimmed a little off the top.

She started out experimenting with some of the lighter stuff, but ended up falling into heavier drugs in no time as she mingled with rougher crowds and went to their parties. It was at one of these parties that needles were being passed around that things would shift dramatically for her. Overnight, she began to experience hot sweats, experience violent mood swings and suddenly found herself blacking out and coming to in the alley aching all over in a puddle of her own retch.

It wasn't for a few nights more, when she was about to be mugged in the middle of a run to one of her clients that she actually came to realize what had happened. Instincts took over, the mugger was sent into a fit of panic as she suddenly appeared to be going into a seizure upon the ground. The next thing she knew, she stood over him in a new form, infected with a strain of therianthropy.

At the age of 17, her life was not in much of a solid state to begin with. This new development seemed to be the tipping point. It seemed those she associated with had a great bias against her affliction. Her parents were loathe to share a roof with a monster with her and kicked her out on her ass to live on the streets. She went to her friends, but most of them had drifted too far away or were involved too deep with their own matters. Her last option, she went to the dealer she worked for. He wanted to use her as her personal enforcer, thrilled to have a beast of pure destruction like that at his side. Reluctantly, she accepted. A girl needed to eat and have a semi-safe place to lay her head at the end of the day.

Overall, it did not end well. New to her powers, she had no idea how to protect herself or those around her. And even with her greater defensive capabilities, a couple well placed bullets still hurt, a lot, especially to a young girl who never actually felt so much pain in her life. In the end, it ended in a lot of people dying, and she largely blamed herself. It did not matter, though, she was back on the streets with nowhere to go.

It did not take long for the cops to catch up with her. The rash of crimes related to her affliction was easy enough to trace in her neighborhood, it was just a matter of finding people willing to speak and who was missing. She did not fight, she was more than sick with what had happened and just wanted somewhere to go that was safe and she knew she would have a roof over her head.

Prison life was something else. Three square meals a day was something she had not experienced since... She could not even recall. She felt reassured that she did not have to worry when the moon was full that she would accidentally kill someone. Though, she did feel awkward about all the giggling over her unusual shape. It was not her fault she was what she was. Just hearing the term 'weremadillo' made her flush til the tips of her ears turned red.
Still, when the day came that Dyer Pharmaceuticals paid bail to see her out, she faces it with some trepidation. She knew it was possible that some day she might be out. After all, the rulings had not directly pointed her as the cause of the deaths and she had just been taken in on drug charges, but that did not mean she was any less scared of what could happen. She could only just envision it.

Stats

Focus: 2
Resistance: 8
Acrobatics: 6
Might: 8 (+1)
Expertise: 2
Subterfuge: 4


Traits


Jinxed: Those around her tend to meet with more misfortune when she is around, it seems to follow in her steps.
Forecasting Fatality: She seems to have a slight preoccupation with the things that can cause people to die; sometimes she can get a strong sense of when people are about to get seriously hurt and help them avoid it, or she gets a sense of what caused an accident to happen.

Georgia Rhettland // Retrieval Mission

"Is Alyss working on direct orders from the Council?" Georgia asks, ducking back to the room she had entered at to gain confirmation.

"Probably." Derek replies. "They don't tell me shit, hon."

"Someone is getting fed a line of spew..." she mutters back into the link, "Let's hope its not us."

"Don' worry, I'll keep you safe. I like it when Carolyn smiles, she wouldn't without'cha."

"Good. Keep that promise. I think I've got a good read here... Going to follow it. Advancing ahead before I lose it... And before we get swarmed. The longer we take, the worse this is going to get, we just don't have the time and I know I'm the fastest here."

Georgia takes a deep breath and eyes the security room. She frowns and takes her combat knife out, on edge after hearing the voices as if they were beckoning her towards the double-doored with no knobs. She fixes it on opposite the flashlight as a bayonet and takes a deep breath, realizing the risks of making too much noise here in the mansion. She could draw in who knows what upon herself. It was apparent there were things in here now besides Eve.

That said, she decides against trying to risk the security room. She was alone apparently with no back-up and a scuffle might cause whatever was in the double-door room to break out and come after her... Even worse, her tapping into the system may cause some sort of psychic disturbance that it might apparently sense. So with that in mind, she keeps to what she had told Derek she would do. She would follow the psychic signal that she had picked up that was guiding her down the stairs. It rang similar enough to what she had felt before the jump, so there was enough of a chance that it would lead her to Eve. And at this point, the only way was forward. Standing still in a place like this would just be death.

So silent as she can manage, she clears past the double-doors and security room and makes for the stairs, gun secure in her hands. Georgia angles her light down the stairs, causing the light to bob up and down with each step as she radios in to the rest of her group, “Roman, go with Nathaniel. I'm going down a level, I think I sense the target. Be careful, though... I... I thought I heard a party. And someone there knew my name. There's stuff that can get in your head in here.”

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