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46,502 | 1,263 | 26 | 1,650 | 715 | Claudia stiffened as the man turned to look at her, obviously reaching for his weapon. She cocked an eyebrow at his demands, communicating her disapproval and exasperation as she crossed her arms over her chest. He knew she was there, which meant one of two things. Either he wasn't as human as she'd thought, which which would explain the odd déjà vu or she wasn't as good at hiding as she'd thought. It had to be the former, as the latter was simply ridiculous. She was like a shadow, no one could catch her. Right? She was shaken from her musing as the door burst open, revealing an odd sight to behold. In the door way stood a tall man with long blond hair and wielding both a sword and a diaper bag. Claudia flinched and hissed at the intruder, caught off guard. She felt odd at this person, as if physically repelled. He wasn't human, his odd swords and too-sparkly-to-be-human hair made that clear, and by what Claudia's instincts told her, he was probably from the opposite of where she was from.
After recovering from her shock, Claudia chose to give Parry an incredulous stare. He said something about leather and dead cows, and Claudia felt slightly offended at the insult to her wardrobe. This is what she had, sorry if it didn't fit in with snobby rich people standards... Finally the man paused in his gibberish to question the two at his doorstep. Instead of answering him, she went over the pieces of information he had given her, before pausing. Had he just called this man Karram? Claudia narrowed her eyes, slowly turning her head to glare at Karram. So this man was the same one who had put her in jail, made her lose Tom? Grief clawed up her throat, feeling like it would choke her. Anger mixed with the grief, creating a dangerous mix inside of her. She knew that it wasn't his fault Tom had died, but if she had been there she could have stopped it. And because of this man, she wasn't. All the more reason to kill him.
More people shuffled towards the door. Great, just what she needed today. A scene. Claudia opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by a distant whistling, steadily growing louder until it had become a shriek. She turned in time for the first explosion. Cursing, she shoved Karram backwards. This was herkill. She had received the order to take him out, and she felt that she deserved it. No way were these rocket-firing idiots going to blow up their asses. She kneeled down, quickly shedding the uncomfortable coat and grabbing two guns, firing at whatever shooters she could see in front of her. It was like some of the territory disputes her gang had with others, only with more explosions. There was a sudden sharp pain in her calf, before what felt like fire shot through her leg. Of course she had been shot. Ducking to the side, she checked her wound and reloaded. It wasn't as bad as other things she'd been through, but having a bullet in your leg still wasn't rainbows and sunshine as mortals put it. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,503 | 1,263 | 27 | 2,534 | 450 | Lying on the ground, staring up at the night sky while explosions went off left and right, gunfire and magic fireballs. Parry had listened to Tony describe the concussive power of explosive weapons before, fighting in the jungle and all that. He'd listened to the lycan back then out of decorum rather than interest. Turns out he would have been better off paying attention to those old war stories, especially if Tony had one he liked to call "The day I survived 18 rockets."
I retired to get away from this shit. Well, not the rockets and guns. Those are new. Not much different from Daemon curses and flaming javelins. What the Pit is that noise though? My carbon monoxide thingy? Oooooh, ringing in the ears? Is that what this is? It's not ringing, Tony. More like an eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee sound that's getting quieter and quieter...
Aaaaaaaand, back to reality.
Tony was inside screaming about a back door, probably reliving his glory days from 'Nam.
Parry caught the scent of blood tinged with spearmint- Rikive was shot but definitely not dead.
Something suddenly stank of Demonic pitch mixed with copper. So Karram's drably dressed girlfriend was a demon? And she was shot too. And returning fire if that pop-pop-pop sound was any indicator.
Great. A Demon-touched. This is gonna get awwwwwwkwaaaaaaaard.
Flint was doing his level best to keep Parry alive, erecting dirt barricades to absorb any rockets that came their way and firing off pistol shots with his own hand cannon.
"Aw, Flinty! My knight in shining armor!" Parry grinned, leaning up and planting a chaste kiss on the detective's cheek as he stopped to reload. "Oh hells! You taste like whiskey and Marlboro. Get off of me and get some aftershave!" The Celestial took all of six seconds to scratch and claw at his lips to get the taste off of them. "Like licking a trailer park rug. Never doing that again."
Parry rolled to the side, giving the PI a chance to reload without getting any more smooches, while the Celestial considered their options. The house was warded against magic, so either Nemsemet had guessed that and sent his lackeys loaded for bear, or just never had any fucks to give over the whole "subtlety" thing. Made sense either way, so it didn't fucking matter.
"Tony, back door through the kitchen! There's a subway entrance one block down! We need to get them into the house to trip the Wards on them! Beth, see if you can puppeteer one of the shooters and make a mess from behind them!" | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,504 | 1,263 | 28 | 2,356 | 5,042 | With the door open Autumn entered. Having eyes everywhere she didn't bother much with looking around. But of course Grey did not know that. A great amount of effort went into hiding that Autumn Weltich and Arachne, Queen of Spiders were one in the same. Those in on it consisted mostly of court members that she had a hold of. If others knew then they would kill every one of her children that dared show itself. However here circumstances were quite a bit different. Both of them were not getting out of this and she needed someone she could trust. But to prevent any trouble from arising later she most likely was going to need to reveal her secret to the human before her. There were not many humans that could claim to have seen Arachne as she truly was and live to tell about it.
Crossing her arms whilst listening she processed the information. Grey always did quick work and this was no exception. Autumn could trust his word over the sketchy information floating about. Part of what he said she knew already, but having confirmation was good. She nodded in reference to their previous encounter. That had been some years ago and she pulled him out of the fire then. A rare smile flashed itself across her face. Humans were always nostalgic about things. Hard to blame them with such a short life span. Casually looking around the room she waited till he finished to speak up. "Excellent work. I have noticed several of the same particulars you have. Some of our employees that are more in the know have not returned. They are trapped in here like the rest of us. I'd rather not get them involved though so I haven't contacted them. Probably best it stays that way." He spoke low which meant there wasn't much in the way od privacy here. This would not make a good place to stay for very long. They almost would be better off in a much higher end suite than down here among the rabble. But that might not be a great place to start a brood.
"We are going to need a better place to stay. You're really the only one I trust enough not to kill me in my sleep. But there is something that I must show you that you may not be pleased about. But not here." Something drew her attention and she looked off to the side a bit. No one was there, but she seemed to be listening intently. "If we are going to move then now might be a good opportunity. Pack your things and make yourself presentable." | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,505 | 1,263 | 29 | 2,377 | 482 | Another concussive blast barrelled into the wall Beth hid behind. The shockwave sent even her into the street, her concentration hampered by the endless tirade of bullets and noise. Her body flickered in and out of tangibility as she rolled across the road. Bullets coursed right through her, each one starting a ripple of burns through her form. Albeit the only physical pain she was ever likely to feel again, the combination pissed her off.
Enough, apparently, to set some things in motion. One of those things happened to be the nearest dumpster. Beth tossed the oversized trash can towards the origin of the bullets and used the momentary lapse in their barrage to pin her sights on the daycare center. Her spiritual spidey sense couldn't get a lock on anything, but she saw the rest of their merry band taking up arms. As soon as Flint erected a solid dirt shield, Beth darted behind it.
She heard someone shouting and it took her a second to give the voice a name—Parry’s telltale tone clued her in. She perked up at the sound of her name.
“Making a mess is what I'm good for,” she called back to him and took off.
Beth took a shortcut through—literally, through—the buildings on the right side of the street and came around to the back of the shooters. She didn't bother to count them. What was the point? Numbers had no effect on the already-dead. She threw herself into the body of the closest assailant.
Whoever this was, they were not wholly human. Mortal, perhaps, except it felt like they'd been tampered with. They fought the possession with a strength unfamiliar to most mortals, and dropped their semi-automatic in the process, but Beth's fifteen years of experience won out. The internal struggle only fuelled her abilities. She snatched up the gun and returned fire. | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,506 | 1,263 | 30 | 1,650 | 715 | Rikive pulled her hand away from her injury when the pain started to fade, looking toward Parael when he shouted his plan. It was good, but what if they pursued them rather than go into the building? Flint's dirt barrier's didn't look like they held up to bullets well, much less the fiery death the enemy could rain down upon them.
At her hip, Rikive felt Winterthorn begin to shake in its sheath. Blinking she shifted to look at the sword, being sure to keep her head down. The old weapon had never done anything such as this before. Untying it from her belt she pulled the sword around in front of her. She slid the blade from it's black and silver sheath, the soft ringing sound of sliding metal filling her ears over the loud gunfire.
She looked at the sword, waiting for it to do something when she felt the sheath move. Her eyes snapped to it and widened, watching the scabbard turn to mist over her arm. It felt as though leather straps wrapped around her arm before the cloud of mist solidified into a black and silver round shield.
For a moment she stared at the shield before shaking her head to be rid of the shock. She rolled over onto her back and lifted her shield covered arm into the air, shutting her eyes tight to brace for possible pain. She felt the impact of the bullet's into her shield but her arm remained steady. Opening her eyes she saw the bullets embedded into the surface of the shield but they hadn't broken to the other side.
"Ha!" She laughed, her mouth spreading into a wide grin. "You beauty!" | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,507 | 1,263 | 31 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Then get this bunch moving into the kitchen! he shouted right back, even as the gunfire continued -- they were suppressing anything that moved upright and tried to return fire, even despite a few return spells flung at them. Volume of fire? Well, at least three belt-fed machineguns going, along with tandem charge rockets, designed to penetrate into a hard target, such as a vehicle or structure and then explode once inside, past the barrier. Bunkers, tanks...Parael's house. Once they went off, ball bearings and shrapnel filled the area. That would be bad if one landed while they were still in there.
He managed to move through the room, thoroughly wrecked in something less than five minutes of combat. The bullets left pockmarks in the walls that children had finger painted, the shrapnel from the rocket propelled grenades left holes and the secondaries left scorch marks in places. The furniture was similarly shredded, and the room's decor was well on its way to debris, but there was at least enough of a couch to crouch behind and the walls were intact enough to provide some cover as he moved low.
He was tempted to shift to his man-beast form then and there, but he had the feeling that there might well be silver in the rounds -- if these shooters were clued in, they might have loaded up for lycanthropes, in which case the immunity to regular bullets might well be offset by the gunners reloading with silver. Those weren't assault rifles or something light; these were full-sized rounds fired from a general purpose machinegun. They hit hard and they ripped through walls.
His feet crunched broken glass and pieces of wood underneath as he picked his way through the kitchen, itself not nearly as bad as the living/play room that was being savaged with more weapons fire. Tony opened the door and carefully looked around the area to the rear of the house; luckily, the lines of sight weren't real good, because there were other homes nearby, and it provided a bit of cover...best of all, the shooters were still shooting, but bullets weren't landing in their direction anymore.
That didn't mean the way was clear, the guys hitting the house may well have a force keeping the back area watched. He wasn't sure, but he did know that they had to get the fuck out of here. It was loud, dark and the smoke and gunpowder smells were filling his nostrils, but he could see like, well, a cat in the dark.
All the same, there were enemies there, about to kick open the door and grenande the kitchen; three men that smelled...off. Like mortal thralls of vampires or something. It made some sense -- the leeches always had hangerons looking to join the club and the vampires used these errand boys for all they were worth. Feed them back some blood and they got to be like junkies looking for a fix. It was said to be like speed and PCP, making the typical human stronger, faster, more aggressive.
But they were not sufficiently clued in; they didn't know that one of the worst possible beings to meet in the dark was a lycanthrope -- there were less of them than vampires, because it was a matter of heredity, but they were immensely fast and strong, resistant to damage, and had a predator's senses fused to a human mind. It wasn't to say they couldn't be taken-- prepared hunters could do quite a thorough job of it, but these three thought they were turning their guns on the first man out the door, and what they got was a halfway point between man and African lion, standing on two feet but hunched over with over-long arms whose hands ended in overlong claws. The shreds of his clothing were hanging off this apparition.
The three simply didn't last that long, not against a headlong rush. Lions had an incredible upper-body strength and were designed for the ambush hunt -- they did not lope long distances after prey, and Tony did the same thing here; a sudden springing forward and a man fountained blood. Another then was ripped into with claws on his way to the third, vaulting forward and getting the fellow before he could flee or fire or let off a grenade.
Three down, very quickly. Tony was shifted back into his human form, breathing heavily from a heady mix of hormones that weren't entirely the human variety; there was a degree of satisfaction that flowed through him that came from the kill, a sense of enjoyment that Lycans felt involuntarily in the throes of their fight or flight. It was why so many of them reveled in violence. Even Tony had to get out of town and hunt animals to get it out of his system; it was hardwired into them, and modern life, with the emphasis on self-control, even self-denial, was especially rough on lycanthropes. The shift back to humanity was like coming down from a really good high, complete with an afterglow that made him want to smile, even as it caused a sense of self-loathing, deep within the human parts of his psyche, where sentience and biochemistry waged their eternal war.
He was drenched in blood and wearing shreds of clothing, but seemed to regard that as normal, or at least as something he couldn't help. The bodies were limp mounds in the darkness, splayed out on Parael's back lawn with their eyes sightlessly watching the night sky, heedless of how maimed they were in the last moments of their lives.
"Stay low, don't get seen," he called back to the door, even as he grabbed one of the guns off the men; vampire thralls, with AK's. That wasn't entirely surprising, vamps tended to have their fingers in all kinds of pies, and weapons dealing was one of the ways they made ends meet. But it meant he had a gun and some magazines if he needed them. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,508 | 1,263 | 32 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint was out of ammo, he hadn’t been expecting to be in a firefight when he planned on coming here. Bullets continued to hit the dirt and it seemed like it was time to leave right about now, he glanced to the others, watching as Rikive was shot and then seeing her shield magically form.
“That would be great if we were up against the Persians” Flint thought to himself as he peeked over his hastily built barricade. He saw that the majority of the fire was coming from a building across the street, he also noticed one of the attackers begin to turn on his ally’s. No doubt Beth doing the thing he hates her doing. Controlling people was just… morally wrong. Flint decided it best to make a hasty retreat, and so began his way to the back door.
As he entered the backroom he was met with a sight that made even him shudder. Tony was ripping some people a part. Flint was quiet, he didn’t want to intervene with the were-lions ‘fun’. He was relieved when he finally returned to his human form, calling back as he scooped up a Kalashnikov. Flint joined him, picking up one of the AK’s, it was a bit too modern for him, he was far more proficient with early submachine guns and rifles, but he figured he could use it.
“Make sure to take the safety off” Flint joked to Tony as he racked the slide on the gun, allowing a fresh round to enter the chamber. He stepped over some of the bloody pulp in the garden and began to walk to the location of his car, staying low as to hopefully avoid more blood shed.
“Maybe next time you should leave something for their families to bury” He called back, wondering if the others would follow him or split off to find another car. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,509 | 1,263 | 33 | 2,024 | 59 | The door behind Karram flung open wildly and he darted his gaze back to see Parry wielding a sword... and a diaper bag. He caught glimpses of Flint and Antonio behind Parry along with a few less recognizable entities. Parry, with his usual flamboyant personality, flared up in sassy conversation, even referring to the mystery woman as Karram's "girlfriend." And of course mentioning her lack of fashion... like that mattered in a time like this (even if he was right). However it wasn't a long reunion; a whistling noise began emanating from above. It was unfamiliar to Karram, although it didn't sound good.
And Karram's thought was instantly confirmed as he heard a huge explosion erupt nearby, the force of which nearly knocked Karram prone. Karram squinted as a result of the intense brightness. He looked away, back at the others. They seemed to be okay for now. But of course, it's never that simple. As if in slow motion Karram noticed several attacking gunners from across the street open fire on the crowd of supernaturals, including him. Karram quickly ducked down to avoid the initial spray of bullets as he continued to scan the environment. He heard Antonio yelling about a back exit to which Parry eventually responded saying it was through the kitchen. Looks like I'm going with the group after all, Karram thought.
He was just about to turn around when he saw the mystery woman take a shot to the calf and slump against a wall returning fire. Without hesitation, Karram touched the ground and directed a few tree roots to her position, having them peek out of the ground and clutch her ankle. And with a swift pull, they would drag her towards Karram with relative ease. In one swift action Karram would catch her on the doorstep, stand her up, and begin assisting her through the open doorway towards the kitchen. "We're not finished talking, you and I. But first, let's get the hell out of this mess." It wouldn't take them long to traverse from the main room to the kitchen, where Karram noticed the slain thralls as well as Flint and Antonio making their way out the back door. | Name: Karram Sylian
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie)
Talents:
-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time.
-Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade.
-Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others.
-Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.)
-Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives.
-Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter.
History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own.
For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live.
Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past.
In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans).
But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees...
Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships.
Possessions:
-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic.
-Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family.
-Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon.
Yes, and:
Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued.
Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil.
(^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.) |
46,510 | 1,263 | 34 | 2,356 | 5,042 | Making note of the change in mood she sighed slightly. Telling him who she was was not something she wanted to do. But if something happened that forced her hand and revealed her true identity it would not end well. Best not to spring that kind of thing on someone when your lives are on the line. Ready to go in a matter of minutes Autumn followed Grey to his vehicle and got into the passenger seat. In mentioning the commotion in the distance she looked at him. "And that is why we're moving. Head toward downtown for now. I'll explain a few things on the way."
No doubt that Grey would just follow directions for now she sat quietly for a time. Tension was rife in those several minutes as she mulled over how to explain the situation. Grey's morals would put her pretty high on his list of monsters to eliminate, having killed countless people both personally and by association. The numerous deadly creatures she created continue to kill even now without her intervention. Finally coming to some kind of resolution in her mind she put her hands down and looked at Grey. There was apprehension in her eyes and even the slightest bit of fear. "Secrets are my business and as you could probably suspect I have several of my own. A lot of them have to do with the business I'm in. But some are closer to home, things specifically about me that I keep locked away for a reason. You are a rarity in that there are not many humans that really know of the supernatural world. I am in a position where I need someone I can trust. Part of that is not keeping secrets that can cause trouble later on." Letting that hang for a few seconds she followed with a question. "Are you familiar with the Greek legend of Arachne?" Perhaps a bit more to the point all of the sudden but she needed to know where Grey's knowledge stood. If he did know then things would be easier to explain. | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,511 | 1,263 | 35 | 2,534 | 450 | This was the worst mess Parry had ever seen since retiring to the human plane. And he'd seen 32 semi-potty trained toddlers on Mountain Dew not four years ago. His house was taking artillery fire from Russian missiles, a platoon of Nemsemet's goons were unloading assault rifle rounds into the walls and windows, and here he lay on the front lawn behind a dirt barricade while the motley band of supernatural misfits alternately ran for their lives or tried to fight back.
It wasn't all bad though. Between Flint's hand cannon, the Demon's pistols, and (judging by the screams out back) Tony's lycan abilities, they might just have a shot at getting out of this whole thing-
Which was when he heard the whine of the rocket, in seemingly slow motion, plunging into his apartment's bedroom window up above and exploding in a massive fireball. Bits of metal paneling, bricks and glass showered down onto everyone outside the building (including Parry) who continued to stare up at the gaping, burning hole in the building.
"My clothes..." Parry whimpered, a tear forming in his eye. "All my clothes... and my scented candles... and my iPhone collection..."
Now Parry may once have been a Celestial, a being of goodness, order, and devotion whose very existence was meant to keep the universe in line, protecting the innocent and doing no wrong. He served at the pleasure of the divine spark, being a total Tool for the forces of Light.
But that hadn't lasted through the silk boom of the 1400s. Parry was now the most self-absorbed, materialistic and hedonistic motherfucker in the whole goddamn city of Camden. He ate fashion magazines, dreamed of walking the runway, and bagged every "stud muffin" he could convince to come back to his place on a Saturday night. So when he rolled onto his knees behind Flint's crumbling earthen barricade, eyes twitching in absolute rage and starlight forming in his hands, he was nothing short of a fucking mess.
"This is for GUCCI!" He screamed, hurling a bolt at one of the gunmen across the street. The ball of gold light struck the vampire thrall square in the chest, forcing him to drop the AK in his arms as his clothes were consumed by fire.
"AND YOU, BITCH!" He screamed, backing up to the front door to the daycare. "THIS IS FOR ARMANI!" The thrall woman, hefting a rocket launcher over one arm, caught a blast straight to the face as she turned to see the source of the shrill yell. Her eyeballs melting and shirt on fire, she dropped to the ground, rolling in the concrete to put out the flames.
"MOTHERFUCKING CHANEL!" Which was right when someone, Parry wasn't sure who, grabbed him by the arm and hauled his ass back inside the building as a rocket landed not ten feet from where he'd been standing. And when he landed on his Prada diaper bag, that mad, fashion induced berzerker fury disappeared from Parry's eyes.
"Oh. That's right. I always keep all my iPhones in here." Parry reached one arm deep into the bag and pulled out a gold 5s and a silver 6 Plus. "We're good everyone! I've still got my phone collection! Tony? Tony, where'd you go?" | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,512 | 1,263 | 36 | 1,650 | 715 | Rikive was rising to her knees with her newly formed shield between her and the gun fire when another explosion rocked the building. She flinched, but kept her shield where it was as she rose up to her feet, looking toward the backdoor where the lawman had gone. Where is Parael? That question answered itself when she heard him yelling at the front of the building. "Oh no." She quickly ran to the door and watched with wide eyes as Parael laid waste to the ranks of their attackers.
She had never seen him so angry before and she had certainly never seen him use his powers in such a way. It was frightening at the same time it was awe inspiring. She snapped from her amazement when she heard another horrific shriek fill the air. She lunged forward and grabbed Parael, pulling him back inside and onto the ground. She crouched in front of him with her shield protecting them from the debris of the blast.
At his voice returning to normal she turned her head and gave him a flat look. His moods often changed so quickly and starkly, she truly wondered about the ancient beings sanity. "Out back." She informed him, pointing toward the door way. She heard wood begin to crack and she looked up with wide eyes. "MOVE!" She shouted, trying to keep at a crouch as she made to grab Parael's arm so they could quickly flee the building before it fell onto their heads. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,513 | 1,263 | 37 | 2,356 | 5,042 | He knew, that was good. It was always a little odd hearing someone else talk about her as if she was not there. It was forever ago though so there was no way they could have known that she was still around. Shaking her head slightly she couldn't help but smile at Grey's jab at the gods. Indeed they were a fickle bunch. More easily wounded by mere words than just about any other creature in existence. It was then that he asked if Arachne was their target. For a second she almost corrected him harshly but held her tongue. Looking out at the flashes in the distance she took a breath to calmed herself.
"No, Arachne is not the cause of this. Nor is she the target. I wanted to know how much you knew in case I needed to explain it to you. But I don't have to." The noise outside continued and she leaned forward so Grey wouldn't have to take his eyes further from the road. "That chaos out there may find us eventually. And when it does I want you to know who I really am, what I really am. Autumn Weltich is just an alias. That woman in the myth is me. I am Arachne." Unsure how this information would be taken she sat back and waited. There were many directions revealing who she was could go. Very few of them seemed good at the moment. It wasn't like they didn't know each other. She had assisted him several times in the past and given him work but that didn't necessarily change the fact that he hunted monsters. Up until this moment she had always maintained the guise of being human and Grey was doing work under human supervision. | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,514 | 1,263 | 38 | 2,377 | 482 | Claudia continued shooting, from the wall, steering clear of other bullets. She was outnumbered, even with the help of others. This house would be taken soon, if there was anything left by that time. It hadn't even been a week and she'd be dead because of her job. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Karram's movements, but chose to ignore him, so when the roots curled around her ankle it as a surprise. One moment she was flat against the wall, facing towards the shooters, and the next she was pulled back and caught by someone. Looking up, she realized that someone was Karram.
She allowed herself to be guided through the unfamiliar building towards the back. There were bodies in the kitchen, though it was hard to tell what they were due to their condition. So far she had suspicions of a lycanthrope or some other beast because of the carnage, some kind of celestial if the horrid smell invading her mouth and nose were any indication. She hated that smell, as well as most everything about beings from the other side of the supernatural street. Especially angels, all the ones she'd heard of and met were major snobs.
There was a large explosion, much closer than before. Too close. She growled, the sound muffled slightly by the once clean mask she was wearing. It had been pure and white, now it was dirtied by dirt and sweat. It seemed like a metaphor for life. Everyone started innocent, but in the end, every single person was guilty in some way. Claudia let out a bitter chuckle as she shook her head. Right, back to the present, as distasteful as it was. She took off her mask, shoving it back into her pocket. Might as well go with these people for now. Not like she'd be allowed back. If she did get out, she'd take the alley took get to the abandoned building she lived, grab her supplies and dog, and go from there.
"We need to move. Now." She informed the others in the room and shoving herself away from Karram. There was no point in aiding her, the wound had mostly healed except for the bullet shards still lodged in her calf. She would deal with those later, but she could walk fine now. | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,515 | 1,263 | 39 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Tony just gave Flint a flat look that might have easily broadcast, "Whitey, please" if he had a big sign over his head. He knew how to handle a Kalashnikov. The big lever on the right side of the receiver went all the way down for rock n' roll, the charging handle pulled back (and one round ejected, just to make sure it was feeding properly) and yeah, he knew the drill. This was one of the black polymer furniture jobs with a big flash suppressor or recoil compensator on the barrel and some sort of optics on there, he wasn't up on the current terminology, but this was the same sort of gun the Cong used in the big bad bush back in '68.
Not much had changed in that sense since he'd done half a tour in the 'Nam and went bugfuck nuts as a beastman, hunting the long pig all over the Mekong Delta and possibly into Cambodia -- he wasn't exactly reading a map when he did it.
So three vampire thralls were dead, but it was better than the three of them putting grenades in the kitchen or catching them in a crossfire. He might have felt a little awkward about enjoying the killing so much, but the necessity of the act? Not so much. Thralls were bad news, especially if you let the crazy fuckers get started. They were all Tony Montana on a brick of Colombia's finest yayo, vicious and eager to score another drink of that v-juice, screaming, "SAY HEY-LO TO MY LEETLE FRIEN' MAIN!" and letting off the whole mag in one big 80's movie go.
He'd done some drugs, especially during the 60's and 70's, but he never touched vamp blood no matter what others said about how awesome it was; it was supposed to be one of those incredible highs...for the low low price of servitude to the vampire providing it. They loved to spread the stuff around too, and now that Nemsemet had them on his side, it meant that key mortals in the city government, including law enforcement, were going to look the other way when thralls with rocket launchers demolished a place.
"I'm here, man," he replied to Parael, from the dark. He was dripping in gore and looked like some crazy rapist with Freddy Kreuger gloves got at his wardrobe, it was in tatters on him, but he was alert and calm, "I can see damn good in the dark man, why don't you and whoever else knows how to drive grab some sort of vehicle, even if you have to hotwire the bitch, because we all aren't fitting in the cop's car. I'll cover this shit with Dexter Morgan here," he jerked a thumb at Claudia, "Because I get the feeling she can figure out an AK." There was one of those left, on one of the corpses in the back yard, but not every supernatural being was up on how weaponry worked. Vampires tended to love the goddamn guns. But then there were people like the shield girl there, who weren't hip the idea that tactics changed.
Maybe he smelled the gunpowder on Claudia; she'd been firing a weapon, after all, and there was a sharp and unmistakable tang to the scent of gunpowder. He knew that Sturm und Drang there wouldn't appreciate the niceties of taking cover and suppression fire and Parael needed to find a car, and probably knew how to actually drive one. No idea about the other dude, so he took the safe bet; he trusted his nose. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,516 | 1,263 | 40 | 1,650 | 715 | Gray was thankful a simple no was sufficient enough for her to correct him. He hated lectures. Autumn paused appearing withdrawn for a moment before she continued. Gray really could have seen Autumn Weltich as an alias but then she said exactly what she was. He parked the car on the side of the street.
Cars drifted by. It was obvious by the buzz of the town that a lot of people had heard the commotion in the distant neighborhood. Since it most certainly had direct relation to this situation he figured it would never make the news. Gray sat there in silence for an uncomfortable moment. After the moment ended he put the car in drive and started on down the road again. Quietly drifting down the road a ways he asked a loaded question he already knew the answer for. "Have you killed anyone?"
The answer didn't matter. He already had his own response planned. "I have. The worst monster I ever met wasn't covered in fur, claws or scales. He was a man. I had to kill him because he was far more deserving that fate than anyone else." Though he liked to know someone like anyone else, he didn't want any more reason to be angry at her or think about his personal code. "Don't hide it anymore from me. But I don't really want to hear anything else about it right now." He'd been brooding since she broke the dam. Gray would get over it pretty quickly, he usually did. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,517 | 1,263 | 41 | 2,356 | 5,042 | Still alive it seemed. Though that didn't mean that this was over. The stop was expected given the gravity of her claim. Knowing better than to press the matter further she sat back in the passenger seat as they rode in silence. Only to give directions on where to turn did she speak. They were headed for one of the larger hotels in the city. It was also a much more expensive one to be sure. It was unlikely that any other supernatural would just happen to be there. Once they were parked she took the lead, motioning for Grey to lose the brooding expression.
Her company had an account with this particular chain, Zohara Hotel. The upscale environment made a good setting to entertain prospects and business partners. Being a regular also meant that the staff knew better than to enter her suite without permission. Usually on the upper floors also meant that keeping track of the entrances was easy and the view was good for overlooking a decent portion of New Camden. Of course Arachne rarely did such things, but other associates found it useful.
Apparently everything was already arranged for them, the woman having stopped in in advance. She knew that Grey would come along. The elevator ride was as silent as the one in the car. Not until they were safely in their hotel room did she look back inquisitively. The space was probably much more than he was used to. A rather large open living room that opened up into the kitchen. It sported a granite countertop bar and everything one would need for entertaining. Of course in this case that was not on the agenda, but in case Grey wanted something strong it was available.
There were two bedrooms, the doors to which were on opposite sides of the living space. They each would have their privacy which they would want from the beginning but after Autumn's confession the need was highlighted. Not wasting time she walked over to the windows and lowered the screens. Taking a seat on a barstool she removed her heels which no matter what never seemed to be comfortable enough. "Well we're here. What else would you like to know?" | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,518 | 1,263 | 42 | 1,650 | 715 | Gray brought in the same case he usually carried and rested it at the foot of the bed he had been designated. It held his armor and rifle with parts included. The suite wasn't something he generally stayed in but it held a charm he wasn't entirely unused to. The Conover family had their own small fortune though it had waned as of late, a product of the trials made by the modern age. He hoped to bring that wealth back and secure their spot as respectable hunters.
The seats were cozy and clean in the common area, a perk he took immediate advantage of. Gray wasn't much a drinker. Inhibited senses were never fun in a situation like this. You never could tell what could go wrong.
Autumn took a seat. No, it wasn't Autumn, it was Arachne. That's right. He couldn't get over the name. Screw Arachne, I'm still going to think of her as Autumn. Autumn took her seat and opened up for questions. Except he didn't really have questions to ask. Not about her. "Autumn. What do we do next? I've got the tools, give me a target. One way or another we need to stop this magic. Whether we hit some minions or go for the head. I'm sick of waiting for more people to die." | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,519 | 1,263 | 43 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint was quickly back at his car, he hadn’t met with any resistance on the way and he hadn’t heard any gunfire in a while. This meant one of two things, the enemy had been defeated, or they were advancing on the house. As he reached his car he met Beth, who seemed to appear out of nowhere.
"That plan of yours, Flint dear, what was it again?" The Poltergeist asked. Flint seemed to contemplate the words, before reaching into his jacket and taking out a hip flask, gulping down the liquid within. After, he looked as if he was about to say something, but instead retrieved a cigarette from his pocket and lit it with his hand. Finally after a few puffs of smoke entered the air, he turned to Beth once more.
“I have a place, an old apartment complex, running water, gas cookers and bunk beds” Flint took another draw on the cigarette. “No wards or anything fancy, but I’m hoping some of our more mysteriously magical ‘friends’ could help with that” He said friends in what could only be the most sarcastic way possible. Flint looked to where he had come from, waiting for anyone else to come a long for the journey.
He opened the Bentleys doors and slid into the driver’s seat, throwing the AK onto the passenger side. He didn’t unlock the passenger side door and made sure the assault rifle lay on top of the seat, hoping to signify to anyone that he wasn’t allowing anyone to sit in the front. He looked in the glove compartment and began placing ammunition for his revolver in his pockets, taking the time to load the aforementioned gun before sliding it back into its holster. The back doors where open and he silently waited for anyone else to come over. He took another swig of his flask as he waited, sighing heavily.
“I should have left town years ago” he muttered to himself. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,520 | 1,263 | 44 | 2,356 | 5,042 | It was business as usual apparently. The gesture of calling her by her human name took Arachne back a bit. She would answer to either name though. "I don't know where the head is. And we have the element of surprise right now being from the outside. If we play our hand too soon then we risk getting the jump on the enemy." Letting her hair down she lightly brushed it out so it wouldn't get tangled. Pausing for a moment she lowered a hand to the counter.
A small spider crawled out from the underside of the bar and onto her finger. Lifting it up she appeared to listen briefly before letting it climb its way up her arm and down her body to the floor. "Apparently a local daycare is what was lit up today. A force mostly consisting of thralls attacked the place with traditional firearms and RPGs. Not entirely sure who they were trying to take out but a few in the group I recognize. A Faerie that worked for my firm for a time and a half-demon that he represented in human court." Stopping so as not to drone on she got to her feet and seemed to be thinking. "We should wait and see what side they are on. I'm sure we'll find out before the end of the night since they will need to scurry to a new hole." | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,521 | 1,263 | 45 | 2,534 | 450 | All these orders being shouted in Parry's face. "We need to find a car!" "Out the back!" "Move!"
By all the stars in the sky, had he joined the army by giving Augustus that Isis charm? If that was the case, he'd never loan anyone any jewelry ever again. Rockets and bullets peppering his front door was way too fucking big a price to pay for lending a third rate wizard a beaded strip of leather smeared in ancient alligator's blood. To be completely fair, he had been meaning to get rid of the fugly thing, but the arrival of the ancient Egyptian death god had kind of put a damper on that plan.
Even as he slid the phones back into his diaper bag, peaking his head back through the kitchen doorway, he had to wonder just what in the hell Nemsemet's game was. It was absurdly strange- the guy/gal/thing simultaneously respected the rule of "Thou shalt not involve the humans" (if anyone had violated that rule, it was definitely the motly band in his home). But at the same time, this kind of attack was an escalation beyond the norm. Vampires and werewolves might pop each other with pistols now and then, but missile launchers and AK-47 rifles was a step above something that could be written off as a drive-by shooting. And no manner of enchantment could hide the fact that this place was being lit up like a post-Soviet war zone. The holes in the building's front couldn't be explained away as a gas leak like most sorcerous fireballs were these days.
Nemsemet either didn't know about the human 5-0, or he didn't care that a SWAT team was inbound in the next 600 seconds to waste what was left of his minions.
My money is on the whole 'Why should I care about the puny mortals' side of it. If I were an ancient Egyptian asshole who believed I was a god incarnate, I'd definitely not give two fucks.
Parry gave his front room one last longing glance- the rocking horses in pieces, the hand-made doll house on fire, the diaper pail burning like a hobo's trash can. That settled it- if they weren't all shot, then they'd die from smoke and toxic gas inhalation. He briefly considered running out through the living area, up the stairs and into the bedroom to retrieve his iron sword from the floorboards in his bedroom.
That plan was nipped in the bud as another rocket was launched from across the street into the bedroom up above the kitchen. The ceiling actually split open, raining plaster and floorboards down on everyone in the kitchen, and Parry was forced down to the ground by the concussion.
Again with the ringing ears. If I need to get a hearing aid after all this, I will fucking murder someone.
Parry felt rather than heard the clatter of iron against the tile floor in front of him. When he opened his eyes, the dinged up iron short sword was lying inches from his grasp, his sooty fingers reached out and grasped the hilt, and he quickly stuffed it inside the diaper bag.
"This isn't an official favor," he said to the ruined ceiling. "Just incredibly good luck."
In response to which, whatever karmic force had planted his weapon within his grasp, decided that canopy fuckbed Parry so loved should start leaning over the ruined floorboards and prepare to take a swan dive into the kitchen.
"Leaving. Leaving now!" Parry shrieked, rolling to his knees and running through the slick gore covered back door. A thunderous CRASH announced the arrival of his ornate bed into the kitchen.
Parry didn't have time to catch where Tony, the Demon and everyone else went. He was too busy running as fast as he could toward Flint's car and did a Home-plate slide right into the back seat. Beth and Flint filed in and the car roared to life as he sat upright behind the driver's seat, shrieking "Time to leave, guys!" | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,522 | 1,263 | 46 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Rikive willed her shield to return to it's sheath form and put the blade back into it's place. Parael was safe from the decaying building, that was her main concern and now she could relax. A bit. The manbeast, Tony, was right, they all wouldn't fit into the lawman's vehicle. "I'll return shortly." She informed the remaining members of the...chaotic group, before taking off at a fast run away from incoming fire. Everyone was everywhere and there was no organization of their ranks. Hopefully that would change when they were out of danger and could actually think.
When she first arrived to Midgard she had been completely fascinated by the modern car. She wanted to learn how they worked, how to drive one and learned quite a few things about them over the course of her research. She stopped her sprint when she found a dark blue Impala that looked like a model from the 1960's. Perfect.
She broke the driver side glass with her elbow, the alarm going off but she very much doubted the owner would come outside. Popping open the door she got down underneath the steering wheel. After a few moments the alarm went silent and then the engine roared to life. Grinning she pulled herself into the driver seat and slammed her foot down on the gas petal. The car lurched forward with a screech of tires and she spun the wheel to turn it around.
In theory she knew how one drove a car, in practice, as Parael had told her time and time again; she was not the best at it.
Still she could point it in one direction and make it go forward. She returned close to where she had last left Tony and the rest of the group to fight and honked the horn to get their attention. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,523 | 1,263 | 47 | 2,024 | 59 | Karram would put up little resistance to Claudia's push; he had no intention of aiding her past this point anyway. I mean, she did intend to kill him before. Without the extra weight it didn't take long before Karram reached the outside of the daycare, leaving the carnage behind him. He noticed Antonio had stayed back, gun in hand, looking to provide cover fire for the runaways. He mentioned the girl, calling her Dexter Morgan... a strange name for a female but Karram wouldn't have known any better anyway. Karram refocused himself.
Okay, need to find a car. There's Flint's over there but it seems it's filling up quickly... gotta move fast.
Karram dashed towards the car as fast as he could and quickly slipped in one of the back seats. Soon after, Parry came toppling in clumsily, his head landing on Karram's lap. Karram looked down at him with a confused expression. Parry popped up in the blink of an eye and shrieked, "Time to leave, guys!"
Karram nodded in agreement, more of a mental reflex. Although he kept his mouth shut. He hadn't been a part of the conversation prior to the attack, so he felt it wasn't really his place to make comments or give orders. He situated himself in the seat to give Parry some additional room to sit comfortably as the car eventually took off.
I wonder where we're going... I mean, is anyplace safe now?
Karram let out a sigh and looked down at his lap, smoothing the wrinkles in his pants nervously...
Just have to keep my spirits up and lend my abilities where they're needed.
Before long, the car stopped. Everyone exited and followed Antonio into a tunnel system that eventually led to solid locked door. With the key Antonio had received moments earlier, he opened the door and gestured everyone in. Karram headed inside and examined the area. It seemed like a fairly old place but the electronics were newer and Antonio mentioned fresh supplies.
Beats that rundown apartment I had to stay in for the last week.
"Seems accommodating enough," he'd say trying not to sound pretentious. "And uh, thanks for letting me tag along," he'd say looking at Antonio, Flint, and Parry. As far as he could tell they were running this disorganized organization. He nervously nodded and walked over to a nearby chair to take a load off for a few minutes. | Name: Karram Sylian
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie)
Talents:
-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time.
-Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade.
-Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others.
-Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.)
-Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives.
-Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter.
History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own.
For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live.
Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past.
In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans).
But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees...
Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships.
Possessions:
-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic.
-Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family.
-Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon.
Yes, and:
Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued.
Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil.
(^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.) |
46,524 | 1,263 | 48 | 2,534 | 450 | ... And anyway Karram, so Augusts said to me, 'Think of the children Parry! Think of all the poor little supernatural children you see every day, and how they'll be left to the whims of an Egyptian High Priest who fancies himself a god just because he could walk in and kill my uncle.' So hearing that, I couldn't help but say 'You know what Augustus? I have just the thing for you.' So I went upstairs and brought down this old thing I picked up in Alexandria a while back. Not much, but it was a legit Egyptian Charm to the goddess Isis, and I handed it over and said 'This should keep you safe against old Egyptian magic.' And Augustus said 'Thank you Parry! Thank you! You're so generous and so much better dressed than I am. Why, I look like I just came out of a frat party compared to you. And you've got a baby on your hip.' So I said-
Which was the precise time Flint slammed on the other pedal, putting the car in a rapid stop, while Parry's face landed right into the driver's seat with a quiet and not very good sounding CRUNCH. Parry had to reach into his pocket for an old hankie to press against his nose with one hand while the other took a swipe at the back of Flint's head. "DON'T BRAKE SO FAST," he yelled, his voice distorted as he tried to stop the bleeding from his broken nose.
He was vaguely aware of getting out of the back seat of the car and walking behind Flint and Beth, but too absorbed in his own thoughts to really care what was going on or where they were going.
Without skipping a beat, he turned back to Karram the Fae. "So anyway, I said to Augustus 'Just be a doll and don't tell anyone you were here. Tony would kill me if he found out you knew we were all put up in my place. And Augustus said 'Cross my heart Parry you stud muffin.' So- oh. Oh, we're here!"
'Here' turned out to be yet another relic from a bygone era. A nuclear fallout bunker at the end of a tunnel beneath a parking garage? Parry didn't really know why all his friends were stuck in the past like they seemed to be. Rikive in the Middle Ages, Tony was perpetually reliving 'Nam, and Flint just couldn't get out of the '30s. The present was so much more fun. Couldn't Tony have set up in a Penthouse Suite instead?
Parry hissed as he felt his long hair brush against a spiderweb, sending him running through the bunker's front door whimpering like a child stung by a bee.
"You get this place fumigated regularly, right Tony?" He asked, pulling the bloody cloth from his face. "I mean, no bugs or anything? I had the center cleaned out once a month as a rule. If it has more than six legs it isn't fit to walk this plane." Parry stumbled into the bathroom, still chattering away as he tried to find a light switch to check his face. "I'm covered on clothes for the next day. Just point me to the nearest dry-cleaner if you can. We need to figure out a plan to go on the offensive, find some information about what Nemsemet wants with-"
The sight of his nose, crooked and weeping blood, brought the shrillest, blood-curdling scream from the bathroom Parry had ever heard himself make. The mirror was broken in a spiderweb pattern, the medical supplies in the cabinet behind it spilled out onto the floor, and the Celestial threw himself out into the kitchen and grabbed Tony by the shoulders shaking him furiously.
"FUCK IT! I need a plastic surgeon to fix my nose. NOW!" | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,525 | 1,263 | 49 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Rikive walked around the bunker to study it and burn off the energy humming in her veins. Driving the old car had been fun and exhilerating; even with Tony in the passenger seat and shouting at her. She thought she had done well, they arrived to the location in one piece didn't they? It was a mission success in her mind.
She turned her attention back to the group at the mention of clothes and looked down at her leather jacket. There was a small hole in the front where she'd been hit by that bullet and an even bigger one on the back. The dark brown leather was now stained with blood and she didn't know if it could be repaired. Too bad, she really liked the jacket.
Dismissing the thought she leaned back against a wall, frowning as she began to go over the events of the attack. When she had been informed the enemy was from ancient times, some part of her had assumed he wouldn't use modern weapons. Especially since they caused such a scene to develop; either the ancient mummy hadn't known or far more likely didn't care. With that damned curse on the city preventing people that were informed from leaving or communicating with the outside world; Nemsemet could do whatever he pleased. So it stood to reason, he didn't give a rats ass about subtlety.
Rikive shut her eyes and thumped her head against the wall. She was thrilled to discover her swords ability to form a shield, it had even proved effective against bullets. Clearly though, the way she had been taught to fight would not be enough if they were to go up against those weapons again. Maybe her sword could prove useful, but the old weapon wasn't giving up its secrets easily. Perhaps it was punishment for it being taken from Jötunheimr all those centuries ago.
She remained quiet for a few moments, lost in thought and listening to the other's converse. So distracted by her thoughts she nearly jumped out of her skin when Parael started screaming. Fear another attack she pulled her sword from it's sheath as the scabbard transformed into a shield on her arm. It took her a moment to realize they were not under attack and huffed, willing her sheath to return to normal and sliding her sword back into it's home.
She walked over to the counter and tried to dislodge Parael's hands from Tony's shoulders. "Parael I can fix your nose!" She shouted over his yelling and crying. "Calm down, I can heal it if you will release Tony." Speaking of she turned to Tony and asked, "Does this place have guns? I wish to learn to use one." | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,526 | 1,263 | 50 | 2,534 | 450 | Claudia turned to Tony, raising an eyebrow at the nickname. She turned her attention back to the room ahead, gun raised and ready to shoot. No more goons came, which either meant that they were all dead, or they were closing in and waiting for an opportunity to attack. Most likely the latter. After a few minutes there was a string of unintelligible words from the Blonde, Parry. After that Tony left the building, and she followed, still facing the building with her gun at the ready. She listened as he gave someone directions, before turning on her heel and following him to an old-fashioned car. She guessed it was stolen by the state of its window, and the fact that the barbaric woman was at the wheel. Claudia slipped into the backseat and kept an eye outside as the man took them through the route to wherever they were going.
---
They arrived not long after, heading to a garage of sorts. Tony spoke with a security guard before ordering the group to follow him. They progressed through a series of tunnels, in the dark. Not that she minded, she had frequented a few sewers as way of safe passage back in the day. She just hoped that others wouldn't do something such as scream about the filth and insects, especially that odd Parry person. They finally made it to the entrance to the bunker, and Claudia listened half-heartedly as Simba the were-lion briefed them on the state of supplies.
The bunker was fine, at least in better condition than her home. Home, she had left most of her weapons as well as her dog there. She would have to go back eventually, before her place got torched like Parry's. She was brought back from her thoughts once again as the aforementioned man came running back into the living space and practically tackled Tony. Claudia slowly walked over to join the group as Rikive and Tony pried the bawling mans hands off of the lycanthropes shoulders. Eventually they succeeded and weapons were layer on the table. The conversation turned to Nemsemet, and Claudia crossed her arms over her chest as a thought occurred to her. Should she tell these people who she was and who she worked for, or used to work for, or keep it to herself. The former option lead to more danger, but maybe if she contributed it would further their efforts to get rid of Nemsemet. | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,527 | 1,263 | 51 | 2,377 | 482 | Flint could not possibly be more obvious with his driving preferences. There was really no need to display the gun as a means to ward people off. A quick "no one in the front seat" would have sufficed, with his pleases and thank yous added where appropriate. Rolling her eyes, Beth slid through the door and, becoming tangible once again, took a seat in the back. "Did you forget how to ask a simple question, Flint?" she said, revelling in the opportunity to annoy him. "I know you find it hard to use those magnificent cop skills of yours, but really, have you tried communicating?"
Another explosion ripped through the top floor of the daycare center and the car seats vibrated. Beth leaned across the back seat and stuck her head out the window. She watched as the rest of the supernaturals fled the building, Parry as the last of them. She shifted back into her seat. Everything began to speed up; the stranger followed her into the vehicle, the Asgardian stole a car, Parry dove into the stranger's lap, and Tony issued their driver with directions, then they were off.
Having gone unnoticed for the moment, she allowed herself to become partially intangible to provide the stranger with enough room to accommodate the three of them. Her shoulder, arm and leg vanished into the side of the car, and for the journey she remained silent. Studying the route kept her mind of the events of the day for as long as the journey took them. Parry's voice occasionally broke through, but she welcomed it.
The drive was fast and short, and when they arrived at Tony's whatever-it-was, Beth used the impact of the stop to sift through the door of Flint's car and all but glide the rest of the way to the bunker.
She inspected the room they first entered, putting various limps in the walls, door and through the furniture. Tony's statement proved true: there were no wards here, and certainly nothing to stop her slipping in and out. Though the walls were reinforced and thick, and she had no idea how long it would take or how much it would sting to pass through one. Should they need to lock the door, however, she could be used as a look out. Still, she hoped they would never need to stay in the bunker for long.
From the bathroom she heard Parael rambling on about fighting back as if they stood a chance, and Beth, as much as she loved him, began to tune him out. But a shrill cry from the bathroom made her spin around with her fists up. In a blink Parry flew out of the bathroom and landed himself on Tony, and Beth couldn't quite distinguish the words from his screaming.
"Relax, Parry. Even with a broken nose, you're leagues more beautiful than everyone else," she said, trying to hide her smirk. She switched to tangibility and plopped herself down in the nearest chair while Rikive handled Parael's nose. Beth hadn't the foggiest idea how to even begin searching for Nemsemet's weakness, so she kept quiet. Instead she listened. | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,528 | 1,263 | 52 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint was driving now, the back of his car packed with some of the others, Parry was talking and Flint was on the brink of smashing the car into a nearby tree. The only solace was the fuzzy, dazed feeling he was having from the alcohol consumption, the adrenaline was wearing off and Flint began to feel things slow down. That was until he realised he had nearly just missed the entrance Tony was talking about and slammed on the breaks, snapping out of his half dazed state.
He entered the place behind Tony and parked up, following the others as they entered the underground bunker. Flint realised that this was a far better place than his cramped apartment complex and sighed at himself as he had to admit Tony had done something better than him. OF course he would never say it out loud. After taking a quick walk around the place Flint realised he still had equipment back at his own hideout. He decided to slink into the shadows and, without drawing attention, began to leave. As he was taking the long walk back he heard what he could only assume was Parry. Probably seeing his new nose. It reminded him about when his nose was first broken.
It was the twenties, the economy was booming, chicks where shedding clothes, and despite what the laws where saying the booze was still flowing. Flint was with a gang of mobsters known as the ‘Booze Hounds’. The name came from the gang’s main business. Alcohol. The hound part came from how they killed people, it looked more like an animal attack rather than a mass shooting.
Flint was just learning his magic, and it was little more than lighting fires and keeping beers cold. Flint’s most destructive power was his use of a Thompson sub machinegun. He could rip a car in half so the legends say. It was that kind of power the gang needed on a job, it should have been simple. Walk in, scare a few people into paying their dues, then walk out feeling satisfied. The job was far from what was planned however, who would have known the place was set up like a fortress? Who could have known they were waiting for them? Ten guys vs Flints five wasn’t very fair, and the whole place was lit up as soon as they walked in. Flint was left alive, the other members of the gang a bloody pulp against the wall. He will never forget the words the man said, the one who was stomping on his head and busting his nose.
“No matter how strong you get, there is always a bigger dog”.
Flint snapped out of his daydreaming as he got to his car, thankful it hadn’t been towed to ‘safety’ yet. He hopped in and briskly began to drive to the apartment complex, taking a few casual swigs of his flask. When he got there, it didn’t take him long to grab one of the large wooden trunks, and throw it into the boot of the car, making sure he had the key for the padlock on it. Smudge had also joined him and curled up in the passenger seat of the car. On the way back to base, he contemplated just how long it would take before everyone he knew died, he had little hope for the others and as the thought of leaving town crossed his mind, he instead lit up another cigarette and continued driving.
He returned back to the bunker, saying the secret code to Tony's guy. It was such a stupid code and he felt stupid saying it. He was dragging the trunk as he slowly made his way into the main compartment of the complex. Smudge was quick to follow, she was a timid cat but was happy as long as she stuck by Flints legs, making dragging the suitcase even harder, especially as her black fur made it hard for Flint to see in the dark.
Flint returned to the group just as they where mentioning vampires, he panted heavily as he lit up another cigarette, the last in his packet. He began to talk through mouthfuls of air.
"I know a few of the hang outs" He inhaled a puff of smoke. "Of some of the local vampire gangs, id suggest the Rusty Steak knife. Some sort of speak ea... night club" Flint awkwardly caught himself as he took another drag from his cigarette, his breathing returning to normal soon after. Smudge still clung around his feet, afraid to move more than a foot away as the strange smells of the place attacked her nose. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,529 | 1,263 | 53 | 2,377 | 482 | Rikive made a face, her nose wrinkling her freckled skin, when the lawman returned and put in his own two coins. "The Norns hate me." She muttered, reaching behind her to tug out the ribbon that contained her braided hair. Or it had attempted too, with all the excitement the braid had started to come undone. A nightclub, the vampires had to operate out of those...places.
Running her fingers through her chestnut hair to act as a brush she couldn't help but think of the times Parael took her to nightclubs. They...had not gone very well. To top it off they wished to go to a nightclub where vampires liked to frequent. She knew from Parael that celestial blood was highly sought after by their kind. It did not frighten her, but if she punched a vampire through a wall for getting too close to her...Then it would likely give them away if they were going for a plan with subtlety.
"I am not needed for this plan." She declared, jumping up onto the kitchen counter to sit on, taking off Winterthorn to lay across her lap. "I don't do well in nightclubs." She kicked her legs back and forth, running her finger over her swords black sheath. "If we are attacking it head on with weapons drawn then I will gladly lend my aid. Outside of that, I will be a liability rather than an asset." | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,530 | 1,263 | 54 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Casper's right, but we don't have to go in a club full of vampires and thralls. We can capture a straggler.
He'd spent time getting himself showered and scrubbed down from his little encounter with the thralls, but he seemed clean now.
"Of course, that makes it harder to pick one that's in the know, we'll be taking what we can get if we do it that way. But it's easier to grab one and stash them in a van," that they'd have to steal, "without having to take on every vamp in the place."
He didn't necessarily want to be the one sent in there. It was true that vampires and Lycans didn't necessarily get along too well, though it wasn't like those really terrible movies with whatshername the British girl or that Mormon housewife's mawkish fantasies made into lucrative novels. It was more of a thing where dangerous predators gave each other a wide berth. Vampires despised that Lycans got to enjoy the sunlight and the benefits of being alive, while Lycans were annoyed that vampires had their shit together and basically had skills that lent themselves to making a lot of money and living a plush, immortal life of leisure if they saw fit.
So it didn't take much to start a fight, but it wasn't some eternal war. Also, when Vampires decided they wanted to give a shifter trouble, they didn't go and fight them face to face, because the shifter had the edge there. They sent, for example, well-armed thralls or they used the system, which they had the means to infiltrate via the effect of their blood on humans, to fuck with them. For example, Lycanthrope family living in a building? Condemn the building, send in child services, and a whole other mountain of red tape. They tittered over it and had another champagne flute of A+.
"I'm game to help, I just can't see myself being the guy you want to walk in there," Tony concluded. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,531 | 1,263 | 55 | 2,356 | 5,042 | The groups quick movement made below made getting information back to Arachne a little slower. Of course once they did get to their destination the news began to make its way up to her. Sadly even if a spider managed to get into the shelter it would not be able to relay what was going on inside. That said the existence of said shelter was quite a surprise. Whoever had found it to begin with was lucky. It was certainly something that she had never seen magic tested against.
Coming out of her room Autumn was dressed in some more casual clothing. Doning the business attire would be a sure fire way to ruin it in the sewers below. Knocking on Gray's door she informed him of their destination. Most likely this would be a first for him as well. The two of them probably wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight if things turned bad, but Gray had some contingencies for that. Given what the group just went through they were likely to be skittish. Arachne would have to bank on her reputation.
Despite living mostly above ground nowadays, she still felt more at home in the depths. The sewers and old subway systems were the modern day caves. The many different paths, turns, and exits were crafted for an ambush predator like herself. Fortunately for everyone that was not her intention right now. Ignoring the graffiti on the walls she just followed the directions of her children. It was no wonder so few know of this location. It was much further than most would care to adventure and probably at one point a heavily guarded secret.
Keeping to her human form and ability made the venture much slower. But she didn't want to highlight what she had hidden from Gray so long anymore that night than she had to. The sun would be rising soon, not that one could this far underground. It meant that most of the creatures that roamed during the night would begin to congregate out of sight. It often made them easier to follow to their hiding places on the occasions they were not leveling a building. She awaited word as the two began to approach the shelter. Depending on how well kept it was they may have a way to tell they were there. But it was also possible that the door sealed them off from everything. | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,532 | 1,263 | 56 | 2,534 | 450 | The Rusty Steak Knife club? The place run by the Rikkers Clan?
Billy Rikkers was de Lacy's number two Vampire enforcer in the city right before Nemsemet woke up. He used to be number one, but de Lacy caught hint of a coup brewing in the clan and had used a bottle of Parry's blood, walked halfway across the city with a dozen lycans, and bust in on the noontime negotiations of who would run what when Billy unseated the asshole-in-chief. Billy Rikkers had too many friends to allow de Lacy to knock him off directly. But his biological son and newly made vampire Sebastian Rikkers, had 0 friends of note outside the clan. So Billy had to watch while de Lacy dragged his boy kicking and screaming out the back door, burning up like beef brisket in the sun while de Lacy just stood there, fangs bared in a smile at his treacherous rival.
Parry hadn't been pleased with how his blood had facilitated the act, but he wasn't in a position to tell de Lacy what to do. It was part blackmail, part safety arrangement for himself. de Lacy got to keep going out during the day to smoke his rivals as they plotted against him, and Parry didn't have to put up with a literal and figurative witch-hunt of paranormals after his blood to make Elixers of Life, werewolf hallucinogens, or just enjoy a walk in the park during the daytime. Parael might have been a Celestial, but retiring to Earth made him just as mortal as Flint. One bullet to the head and he was out for the count.
So Parry surprised himself when he stood up in the middle of the group, dusted the soot off of his shirt and said "I suppose I'll jump on the grenade if none of you will. And unlike the rest of you, I have something that Billy Rikkers wants." His hand fished inside the Prada diaper bag until, within its infinite confines, he found the silver flasks that Tony had grabbed from the basement. "And I can play 'Let's Make a Deal' when my life is on the line as good as any wizard." | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,533 | 1,263 | 57 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Rikive looked up at Parael and her eyes widened a bit when he brought out the flask containing his blood. He was going to give the vampire his blood? Granted, it sounded like an emergency plan but there was still a lot that could go wrong. "Are you sure?" She asked with a frown, reminding herself to keep the questioning vague. Parael wished to have his Celestial nature remain secret and she would respect his wishes.
"Won't offering that, make him come after you for more?" There would be dangerous consequences to giving the vampire the ability to walk out into the sunlight. What if in handing over his blood the vampire would realize it belonged to him? What if he grew greedy and decided to capture Parael so he would have a direct source for him and his vampire allies.
She was about to talk further when she heard the scuff of feet on concrete. Outside of the bunker. Her head snapped to the door and she pulled Winterthorn from it's sheath. "There are two people outside." She said lowly as her newfound shield formed over her arm. "Is there anyone else you know that would know about this place?" She asked Tony, sliding down off the kitchen counter. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,534 | 1,263 | 58 | 1,650 | 715 | Upon hearing their destination Gray already had his suspicions that something could go wrong so he put on his full body armor accordingly. It was made to be durable, light and still give him great freedom of movement to withstand some of the most vicious blows, lacerations and bites so he could do his job. It certainly didn't make him invulnerable, it simply lessened the impact a mistake or surprise might make, like any good armor does. The only piece he left off was the helmet. The gaudy thing was painted with a white skull that had three red scratches over each eye and covered his face. He liked it because it could prove terrifying to a squeamish foe and doubled as a gas mask. The whole set was a default blue with a small family crest on the right breast. All loosely hidden under his grey jacket. For this trip, he brought his AA12 shotgun, leaving the rest in cases in the car.
The ubiquitous spider queen led the way. It was still rather impressive she was able to navigate the underground so easily. Unlike Gray, Autumn was at ease in the dark. Gray kept a flashlight on his rigging out of tactical necessity yet they had been lucky enough to travel in dim illumination. As they grew close to the shelter door he kept two hands on his shotgun, ready for the worst. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,535 | 1,263 | 59 | 2,377 | 482 | Casper?
Beth didn't know whether to be amused or insulted. She went with amused in the end, since dear Tony could have generated nicknames a whole lot worse, and she rather liked the old were-kitty.
Just as she expected, someone came forth with enough information to get them going. She'd heard of the Rikkers Clan a few times, whispers in de Lacy's court but never anything worth remembering. For the most part, she steered well clear of vampires unless she needed something. Beth grinned and opened her mouth to speak again, to prompt the newly formed group into a plan of action, before the Asgardian pointed out the presence of someone beyond the door.
"Okay, hold your horses big guy," she nodded to Flint's submachine gun. Another comment about his ineptitudes as a detective flirted on her tongue, but she restrained herself. She walked to the door and turned her body see-through again, then moved through it. Now, regular old steel doors were a little tough on her spirit, but something reinforced? She felt sick. When she made it through to the other side, she wanted to vomit. Instead, and since vomiting was an impossibility, she pinned her gaze on their guests.
Their guests, who appeared to be one impeccably dressed woman and her far less well kept bodyguard, by the looks of him. Beth smirked at his gear; the gang inside would not appreciate someone riding in here pointing guns at them. Once a day was enough. The lack of spiritual aura coming off him, she supposed he was a mortal, so she addressed the woman.
"Apologies, but we're not buying whatever it is you're selling. Is there anything else we can help you with?" | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,536 | 1,263 | 60 | 2,534 | 450 | Flint's tendency to reach for his SMG at the slightest provocation would have been an overreaction if they hadn't just been shot to pieces by vampire thralls on a public street. In this case, it was probably one of the smarter things he could've done. "Flint, were you a Pinkerton in your last life?" Parry asked, sliding toward the door as Beth walked through it.
He'd met Pinkertons once or twice. Nice guys, if a little quick on the draw. And even quicker on the massacre. Then again, a for-profit police force could have that luxury here on Earth.
Parry stood on his tip-toes to see through the tiny peep-hole in the solid steel bunker door, getting a warped view of Beth's ghastly form taking shape on the other side of the underground shelter. Beth, a human, and...
And...
Without consulting any of the group, and with no words uttered, Parry slid the locks to the door open and pulled the heavy slab of metal until he could peek his head through the crack, golden hair, soot stained face and dried blood trails beneath his nostrils greeting her and the human accompanying her.
"Autumn?" He said, squinting at the woman with her very human bodyguard. "Wait, how do I know you're the real Autumn? We're dealing with a supernatural mega-mummy who has the whole city in his pocket. Quick: August 19th of last year, I was arrested by human authorities for a drunk and disorderly outside the Radiant Rainbow Bar on New York's east side. What was I wearing when you bailed me out, and why was I arrested?" | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,537 | 1,263 | 61 | 1,012 | 4,032 | When Parael cracked the door, Tony could smell the silver, a lot of it, "Watch that shit, this muthafucka's loading a lot of silver." And he didn't smell v-juiced or like a thrall, "Whoever that is, they brought a fuckin' hunter." He reached for an AK, mostly because it was a better option than charging a hunter. Flint had the right idea -- that guy was loaded for goddamn werebear. Well, it was sort of like wearing a headband that said, "Allah Jihad!" and wearing a slightly bulging vest and walking into kosher pizzeria in Solomon Village, the Jewish part of town, or carrying a sign that says, "God Hates Baby Killers" and waving a shotgun in the parking lot of an abortion clinic.
Silver and werecreatures.
To be sure, Tony understood that mortals might have good and legitimate reasons to kill werecreatures, especially when they started to go on a rampage in built up areas, and, in a sense, he understood why when Nemsemet had a lot of weres on his side of the divide, this guy might come packing sterling silver double ought.
But you couldn't stop that visceral emotion of fuck that guy.
Tony tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice, "Real careful, here Whitey. This guy's got the drop on us and he's packing a lot of shit."
Sense of smell again, Tony had a good nose and he was wiser than a lot of weres; on the ball about things regarding modern weapons. But on the other hand, he was worried; some dude that thought he was hunting the fuckin' monsters running amock like the Terminator -- contrary to Parael's assessment, Tony was actually up on things like movies, music, cars and the current men's fashion (though even as a brotha, he wasn't nearly as flamboyant as Parael, but purple shirts were doable in this social circle, as were three piece suits and double vents) and this guy could be one of the calmer types or he could be one of the crazy whacko "Kill the witches!" good ole boys. The nose didn't tell you everything, after all. He could smell metal, oil, powder and that sort of thing. He could smell the man's sweat. He might be able to take a stab at his diet. But that left a lot of holes in the threat assessment.
But Tony hadn't clicked off the safety on the Kalashnikov, or chambered a round-- yet. Parael and Casper were taking the lead, and Tony knew to shut the fuck up and let them talk it out. Parael was off his rocker, but he was generally juiced in with folks. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,538 | 1,263 | 62 | 2,024 | 59 | To think this merry ragtag band of supernatural entities was planning on hitting a fucking vampire stronghold made Karram's headache worsen. He grasped the bridge of his nose with two fingers and tried to stay focused, thoughts and plans whirring through his mind as fast as the dialogue in the room. He eventually looked up again when there was mention of Parry handling the situation himself... and then Flint offering his services as backup. Karram noted the strange flask Parry had pulled from his diaper bag of holding and wondered what it was he had that these bloodsuckers wanted. Rikive seemed to know what was contained within the small flask, and that whatever it was could make their lives even more hellish. Karram peered into her feelings a bit; she was anxious thinking about the Rikker fellow having the flask...
I wonder what's in there? Karram could hardly finish his thought before he realized Rikive's emotions shifted suddenly to fierce and instinctive. "There are two people outside. Is there anyone else you know that would know about this place?" Oh great more guests... Karram thought. With weapons drawn and talking silenced, Parry and Beth took point at the door. Antonio looked extra nervous; it made sense considering he caught the whiff of a whole lot of silver.
Karram stood quietly and drew Oakbane from its sheath and crept closer to the group, ready to protect himself and anyone else around him. His brow raised slightly as Parry cracked the door and peered through. He recognized whoever was behind that door, but for once kept his suspicions roused. The group was left listening in silence as he posed an awkward but befitting question to this suspicious Autumn character. Please get this right... I'm not in the mood to fight right now, he thought with a slight grimace forming on his face. | Name: Karram Sylian
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie)
Talents:
-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time.
-Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade.
-Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others.
-Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.)
-Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives.
-Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter.
History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own.
For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live.
Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past.
In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans).
But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees...
Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships.
Possessions:
-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic.
-Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family.
-Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon.
Yes, and:
Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued.
Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil.
(^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.) |
46,539 | 1,263 | 63 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint thought about Tony’s words. He wasn't fond of hunters, especially mortal ‘normal’ hunters. They acted far too cocky, far too invincible. Flint had dealt with them in the past, either with the court hiring them or a private hire by a ‘concerned citizen’. One thing he hated was they packed the latest gadgets, thermal imaging, night vision, fully automatic clip fed assault rifles with sixteen attachments, custom ammunition, Kevlar vests. Flint had been doing it the old fashioned way the past sixty five years and he was good at it.
Another thing he didn’t like was the use of silver, and apparently this man had a decent amount of it. Flint had many reasons for not having silver ammunition, for one, despite popular opinion, Flints job was mainly as an investigator, not killing people, and so most of the time he wasn’t even firing his weapon, never mind shooting anyone. Another reason was because most things that were damaged by silver, could smell silver. Why make enemies before you even meet the thing you are hunting? The main reason for not using silver ammunition was the most obvious. It was bloody expensive. Sure private hire hunters could spend the thousands they gained on precious metals, but Flint could barely afford his alcohol addiction.
Flint was behind Parry as he foolishly opened the door, what he met on the other side was just as Tony had warned him about. The man stood outside, a few inches short of Flint, his body armour wasn’t obvious, but Flint knew he would have it. The firearm in his hand Flint had not seen before, it looked like it was made of plastic and it reminded him of a toy a child might play with, the bore of the barrel signified a shotgun of some sort, or large calibre ammunition. No-one appreciated a good wooden stock now-a-days. Flint then looked to the woman with him, she looked familiar, but Flint couldn’t remember from where. Parry seemed to know her on a legal level, and was probably how they had crossed paths before. She definitely didn’t seem to be packing any heat, maybe one of those girly guns. (This wasn’t much of an insult, as Flint considered anything that didn’t nearly snap your wrist when firing a ‘girly gun’.) Flint decided the best course of action would be to glare at the two and be ready to saw their heads off if they showed any sign of aggression, he kept the Thompson at his hip, the barrel facing the floor. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,540 | 1,263 | 64 | 2,356 | 5,042 | It didn't take long for those inside to notice their arrival. It made Autumn curious as to which one caught them first. The door hadn't even opened before a voice echoed out. So they had a spirit among them it seemed. The snide comment about not buying anything was only moderately amusing to her, children. "Judging by the display up top I would say that you could very much use my services. I do not tolerate such carelessness. Had I gotten to you sooner you would not have been caught off guard by simple thralls." Her usual pleasantries died away when it came to business. But before anything else could be said Parael had opened the door and stuck his head out.
The Celestial's face had seen better days. Given their previous encounter it no doubt caused him more pain to have it damaged than any actual physical displeasure. He was an eccentric and vain beyond any other she had the misfortune to encounter with exception of actual gods. Behind which were the rest of the misfits. Unsurprisingly everyone inside was antsy. Was bringing along Gray a mistake? Perhaps. But it would look rather out of place for her to just show up alone given the circumstances New Camden was in. Fortunately she didn't really worry about her associate being too brash just yet. This was her territory and that meant she was in charge.
A question was raised about if she was who she appeared to be. The burden of proof rested between her and Parael, referencing the time she had been asked to haul him out of jail. To say it wasn't something she remembered would be a lie. It was one of the few case works that she dealt with herself while "working her way up the ladder." A formality simply to keep up appearances. Normally she would have blow off such a question but given that everyone was poised to attack she sighed and rolled her eyed toward the ceiling. "You had a matching ruby red velvet designer outfit. The jacket barely fit you and looked like it was trying to jump off your body. Small yellow flowers were embroidered all around it and a large red flower of the same material was sewn on your left shoulder. The cuffs were Faux Fur, same ruby color, which made you look even more ridiculous in you cell. I believe you said it was a Renato Balestra original and the only of its kind. As I recall the police report read 'Disturbing the Peace.' The owner though said that you were drawing clientele away and had a meltdown when a red wine had been spilled on you." Pointing toward her foot she made one last note. "You made it expressly clear to point out the dime sized stain on the hem of your pants to me many, many times."
Despite the mounting hostilities she kept a cool demeanor and made very little effort to hide her confidence. Either she worked extremely well under pressure or felt no need to be intimidated by them. Leaning to one side she smiled to one in the background. "Oh and Karram. You're lucky that you don't still work for me. Fraternizing with former clients is strictly against 'company' policy." Of course only the one that the comment was directed toward would understand. As part of the agreement with the courts the employees were to stay well away from those they represented afterward. Terrible, mysterious things would happen to those that didn't follow that rule. | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,541 | 1,263 | 65 | 2,534 | 450 | Rikive glanced over at Tony when he growled his warning about the presence of silver and a 'Hunter'. She couldn't see the man he spoke of from where she was in the room, but the lycanthropes were infamous for there sense of smell. While silver wasn't a threat to her, it was made obvious earlier that any small bit of metal slicing through the air at highspeeds was enough to hurt her. She also never had the displeasure of meeting a Hunter, but she had heard enough horror stories from other's to feel suitably wary. Even if they were normal mortals. "I want to know how they found us." She muttered.
As Parael posed his question and the woman responded Rikive pressed her lips into a thin line. The muscles in her jaw ticking for a few moments before she lost her inner battle. She started laughing. A full belly laugh at that, her stomach muscles were starting to hurt as the light sound poured from her lips. She knew this was an extremely inappropriate time to be laughing. The very disorganized group was on the run and hiding from the demonic ancient taking control of the city. Their base was already possibly compromised depending on how in the Nine Worlds the two people outside found them...But she couldn't help it.
In her mind she could very easily picture Parael, sitting in a small jail cell either crying or pouting because of the stain on his clothes. And that would be the only reason he would be upset, he wouldn't have given a damn about being arrested. Just that his coat had a small spot of wine on it.
And it was red wine, on a red coat!
Yes, it certainly sounded like this woman had met Parael.
Reigning in her laughter she tried to grow serious once again. She could tease him about it later. And she very well intended too after the grief he gave her for being arrested herself. | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,542 | 1,263 | 66 | 2,377 | 482 | Not a moment passed between Beth uttering her greeting and the woman opposite her responding before the door opened by just a few inches and Parael's face poked out, closely followed by Flint's. No doubt he still had the gun in his hand behind the door. Beth threw up her hands and rolled her eyes. Really, did these people have no tact? No matter, should the mortal bodyguard attempt to get by, she would turn tangible again.
She folded her arms and watched the exchange, not for a second appreciating this woman's authoritative tone. No one ruled the roost here. Not any more. She respected de Lacy's authority because the system, as unstable as it was sometimes, worked for the most part. He kept supernaturals in check and gave them somewhere to go, so long as they didn't cross him. For Beth, he'd given her a future beyond death. What had Autumn done for them? And her wording -- tolerate, carelessness? She must have wanted to piss everyone off.
At least her story about meeting Parry was entertaining.
Staring through narrowed eyes at the woman, Beth waited for Parael to confirm her story. Once he did, however, a laugh broke through the small gap in the door. A rich and jolly laugh that, if she had a body, might make her skin tingle with excitement. Never before had she heard it, but she attributed it to Rikive nonetheless. Though Beth did her best not to smile, the corners of her ghostly mouth twitched upwards. She tried countering it with a scowl.
The moment Parael opened the door, the humour fell flat. "What is it you think you can do?" she asked Autumn, ignoring the mortal and Parry's question regarding him. "Unless you know exactly how to kill the mummy, you're on the same level as we are." | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,543 | 1,263 | 67 | 1,650 | 715 | Even eldritch horrors didn't produce the kind of revulsion that Gray suddenly had for this gender-bending creature before them. The hunter shuddered, wishing he could say to Autumn, 'It looks dangerous, can I shoot it?'. He liked money though and that would probably endanger his paycheck.
The commotion behind the door of murmuring and suddenly mirthful laughter made this place feel more like the sub entrance to a psych ward. Were these guys going to be allies? Not exactly his first pick. "I'm Gray. I specialize in killing things that don't like staying dead. What's this about a mummy?" Despite being unable to see the ghost it wasn't uncommon to try holding a conversation. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,544 | 1,263 | 68 | 2,024 | 59 | Karram listened intently as the all too familiar voice echoed from behind the door. With flawless accuracy and an almost inherent confidence, the clearly female mouthpiece described a ruby red velvet outfit and other intricate details without missing a beat. It was stunning how articulate she could be despite her quick speech pattern and eerie stoicism. It was like listening to Wednesday Addams seamlessly perform a monologue from Hamlet in one minute flat. Karram shuddered a bit as the memories crawled back into his brain; he recognized her without even laying eyes on her... now that's saying something.
Arachne...
Just as the name crossed his mind, she directed a pointed comment at him. "Oh and Karram. You're lucky that you don't still work for me. Fraternizing with former clients is strictly against 'company' policy." Karram gulped. He shot a glance at Antonio, trying to remember back to the time when his fate was intertwined with Tony and Flint. He knew for sure she wasn't involved in that case, nor was Tony technically his client. Then he turned his head to the mystery girl and it came to him.
Claudia Laurel. Vehicular Manslaughter. So I do know her.
His internal monologue was interrupted by Parry's over-excited greeting as he let Arachne and the strange armored fellow into the bunker. Once Karram met her gaze, he shrugged comically. "Desperate times, Autumn," he'd reply with a smug smirk. He enjoyed Arachne's professionalism, and working for her was hardly the worst thing he's been subject to in his life, but he still found strange pleasure in playing the fool or speaking to her with a bit of sarcasm.
"I'm Gray. I specialize in killing things that don't like staying dead. What's this about a mummy?" This was the new guy. Entirely unfamiliar to Karram. Even new to Parry, which was different. Up until now Parry had connections to nearly everyone in the party, it seemed. Of course fresh blood meant a new target for Parry's fetishes and fantasies. And this Gray guy didn't seem to like it. It seems the fun never stops with this group, Karram thought. | Name: Karram Sylian
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie)
Talents:
-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time.
-Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade.
-Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others.
-Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.)
-Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives.
-Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter.
History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own.
For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live.
Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past.
In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans).
But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees...
Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships.
Possessions:
-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic.
-Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family.
-Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon.
Yes, and:
Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued.
Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil.
(^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.) |
46,545 | 1,263 | 69 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Fuck, Tony muttered under his breath. Yeah, Hunter Boy thought this was a walk in and shoot Nemsemet situation, and that was because, like Tony said, Hunters tended to be kept in the dark and fed shit. He gave the woman and her attendant a wide berth as they entered the bunker, even if he did put the Kalashnikov down, he never took the safety off, on the table where the other two lay; a little bit of ammunition alongside. Karram gave him a glance as if to ask if he were 'the client,' and Tony gave a blank look back, even while he found a place to observe the proceedings from, arms folded over his chest and his face masklike in its impassivity as he sat in one of the old metal chairs with the back facing forward. He was not in his comfort zone here, and so he did not offer up a tray of hors d'ouerves or an aperitif.
In all honesty, he was annoyed with Parael just letting this woman and the hunter right in, the latter toting a shotgun full of silver rounds, without even a by-your-leave consultation with the others. Casper was going out to handle it, and she had a certain sort of skill at assessing the situation without having it go confrontational or, important here, exposing them to an unnecessary risk. Even if the city weren't being overrun by Nemsemet and company, Camden wasn't always a place where everyone played nice.
There was no way to say Volunteer nothing out loud without being very tense about it, but he wanted to shout it so that it bounced off the walls and echo'ed down the hallways because he got the feeling a gossip fest was about to start. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,546 | 1,263 | 70 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint gave Rikive a light punch to the arm, hoping that she would stop laughing and act more serious. Flint walked towards Tony as the two strangers where allowed in, he stood beside him as they both watched the new possible members of the group. “So what do you think? Take him ‘round back and give him a few more holes?” Flint whispered jokingly to Tony as he saw the plastic toy gun once again. “Hey commando Joe, you can’t just carry weapons in here! Place it by the door with anything else you might be packing “Flint said sternly, not caring that it was obvious the ‘no weapons’ rule didn’t exist. For starters Tony and himself where holding firearms, and a few others still had there medieval gear out. Although it wouldn't hurt for everyone to stop clenching their death machines.
Flint turned his attention to Parry “and what are you doing bringing anyone in!” He said angrily “For one these guys could be here for a number of bad reasons, and two this place isn’t even yours, its Tony’s here and I would think you should address the group before letting people wander in nonchalantly.” Flint glanced back to the newcomers as he went back to his trunk, locking it up tightly. “Tony what room should I stick my crap in?” | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,547 | 1,263 | 71 | 2,356 | 5,042 | Clearly not all of them knew who Autumn Weltich was. Which was fine considering. There was some advantage to not being known at times. All of them, barring at least Parry and Karram, were suspicious of them, and rightfully so. Their secret hideout was visited within hours of their arrival. Either they were followed, someone had loose lips, or she already knew about it. Only the first one was partially true. But they had no way of knowing how.
Of the displeasure only the spirit really was presenting much in the way of words. Perhaps she struck a nerve, or whisp, by her earlier comment. "I'm sorry. I was not aware hiding in a daycare was your idea." Making herself at home she took a seat and crossed her legs. She still had yet to flinch at the others. "You are right. I don't know how to kill the mummy, yet. But as you can see I found you all quickly enough. It is only a matter of time before that little secret becomes known as well. That is my specialty after all, and why the other courts sent me to New Camden."
Noting Gray's uncomfortable body language she lifted one hand and motioned Perry closer with her finger. "I make it a point to keep track of old clients. Please keep in mind that Gray is my associate and not here to enjoy himself." That may not be enough to really keep the Celestial away, but at the very least she presented it in the open so any retaliation in the future would not be unfounded. She was not above petty actions. Although with Perry destruction of property would probably suffice. | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,548 | 1,263 | 72 | 2,377 | 482 | Rikive shot a look at Flint for punching her arm. She couldn't help it, the image was so unexpected and vivid it made her laugh. Maybe it was a sign she needed to sleep. Dismissing the thought she tensed as the two newcomers entered into the bunker, clenching her jaw and tightening her grip on her sword. For once she found herself agreeing with Flint, it was a very bad idea to let them in.
Though technically, none of them had any reason to trust each other. And we're planning to band together to try and fight Nemsemet. She thought with an internal grimace.
The other's were putting their weapons to the side but she was hesitant to do so. Though, she could see that having her sword drawn wouldn't help ease the tension in the air.
Her shield returned to it's sheath form as the woman walked in and sat herself down with the grace and authority of a queen. "How is it exactly you found us?" She asked, sheathing her sword and placing it back at her hip in her belt. "If you could locate us, it's possible that other's could as well using the same means." | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,549 | 1,263 | 73 | 2,356 | 5,042 | As the weapons were being put away Autumn listened to their concerns. They wanted answers that she was not quite ready to divulge just yet. "I'd rather not say how. It exposes someone I've spent a lot of time keeping under wraps. I'm sure some of you can understand the benefit. The less people know the more useful the skill you see. Once the cat is out of the bag then everyone will know how to thwart it and it would be of no use to anyone. Suffice to say it is a skill uniquely bound to me that doesn't leave any trace of magic for our mummified friend to find. At least no more than anywhere else." That was about as close to the truth she was willing to go. She didn't know enough about the majority of them. She would need to get to know them individually and even then that did not mean they should know. Some of her closest friends had no clue who she really was.
Then there was the question about the courts. This was one she would be completely open about. "They sent me here to figure out what's happened to New Camden. If you've been inside this whole time then you might not know that anyone that comes in that has any connection or knowledge of the supernatural cannot leave. So once you've gone in then you aren't getting out. Those humans who are ignorant of such things can come and go as they please. Additionally any communication related to such is cut off. With nothing to go on the courts are scrambling over themselves in confusion and fear. Being a thorn in their side they saw fit to force me in to figure out the situation. To be honest I had no intention of coming anywhere near this city myself. Though the mystery of it all has some allure to it." The last sentence was probably the most genuine thing she had said up to that point. Having access to so much information the unknown was a most exhilarating experience. Were she honest with herself this was probably the most fun she's had in centuries.
Dropping the story telling she switched back to the task at hand. Their run in with the web earlier brought with it a tiny spider that hid itself from view. Until entering she could not know what what was said. Physical barriers were still a hindrance, but it wasn't often that one came across that completely cut off communication. Picking up where they left off as if she had been there Autumn felt the need to put in her two cents. "Your plan to capture a vampire is a good one. I can help scope out a potential target with sufficient clout without raising an alarm. The capture will need to be done by someone else though." | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,550 | 1,263 | 74 | 1,650 | 715 | Diplomacy was not a very fun process. Didn't really feel any different with monsters. Both ways it sucked. Diplomacy with lead was a lot easier and generally more fun. Too bad it had some terrible consequences.
Despite requests from the tall old-fashioned man he held onto his weapon. True that it might be a concern to them but it was also one the things giving him a sense of safety in this dungeon filled with unknown creatures. "I'll hang on to mine. Dangerous creatures about." He did do them the respect of putting the safety on and laying in next to him, hand still perched on it, after finding a folding chair to sit in.
"I can do it." Gray immediately volunteered. "I just need to know how old the target is, his nationality and a chance to get some groceries. If I can't get those I'll just make do." Vampires had specific weaknesses that were exploitable and it was quite possible to capture them if you took them by surprise. Good thing Gray did this kind of thing for a living. Time to earn to brownie points! | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,551 | 1,263 | 75 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Elders ain't that easy. They keep themselves surrounded by security and they don't show themselves like the goons and the minions do unless they have cover, because they've been around long enough to appreciate the risks and lots of people want to get at them. Like I said, best to snag one down on the totem pole and pump them for information. If we get lucky, the bloodsucker has a grudge somewhere that we can use to our advantage, since that's how internal vampire politics worked -- they weren't real families, like, say, a pack of werewolves, that squabbled in private but put together a unified front under pressure. It was safe to say that vampires worked together well in peacetime but tended to show the fractures under the surface when the pressure came on.
"Beats going into a club full of them in plain sight. If we're going to get some vampires to turn on one another, we can't be a pride parade in the middle of Frisco, gotta make it deniable. That means actually kidnapping one and hoping they play along. And if they don't play along, we interrogate them for real and dispose of them. But if they play along, you want to make it look like they didn't cooperate because vampires don't like to take sides openly, it's always some sort of fuckin' catch or bullshit with them."
These were words out of the mouth of a man that, and sometimes others forgot, ran a not for profit foundation that helped economically disadvantaged people find jobs, re-purposed abandoned buildings for industrial and commercial use and otherwise pushed any in-the-black performance back into new projects in the community. He took home a modest (actual modest) paycheck for the job. But Horizon didn't get big by accident, it identified areas where it could react nimbly to a situation when New Camden's government couldn't, and it often couldn't due to bureaucracy and gridlock, providing the right training for the jobs they had, and changing faster than local and state government could to address the manpower needs. So businesses started doing business with the charity instead.
But the plan was a result of that sort of thinking -- bottom line calculation in the name of a greater good. Grab a vamp and make them talk.
"Pick whatever space you want," he shrugged to Flint. Personally, he wasn't sure he wanted to sleep down here anymore. Things just done got tense, especially with the Punisher running around with his silver-loaded shotgun always in hand. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,552 | 1,263 | 76 | 781 | 162 | The loft the young vampire occupied was a wide and darkened space, dressed with fine things she’d acquired over the last few decades. Moments ago, she had stood in the center of it all, wondering if it would survive the oncoming war. It was an odd feeling, the sense of loss that accompanied the idea of seeing it perish. In her glowing eyes, it was her life’s work. Her beautiful loft, with these beautiful things, was a source of validation for her worth and skill. She had secured many a client by bringing them here, allowing them to see who she was through the lens of what she had come to possess. “Just things,” she had reminded herself, as she buried her attachment beneath the instinctual need to survive. It was simple: she couldn’t take these things along, and she might never be coming back. It all depended on how this night progressed.
Now, she stood before a decorative floor standing mirror. She was a tall, willowy creature. Her height she had inherited from her father, and every other human aspect seemed to speak of her mother. Her skin tone had paled, but her facial features and long, shining black hair were reminiscent of the woman who raised her in her mortal days. Even her mother’s eyes had somewhat survived her transition into immortality; Kaori’s natural eye color had been so deep, that it muddled the bright crimson that was typical of vampires’ eyes. Instead, her eyes were now the color of red wine.
It occurred to her, as she looked over herself, that these similarities would be the only thing she was guaranteed to keep of her mothers. Her eyes shifted from the mirror to the wardrobe that stood nearby. Moving towards it, she pulled a long silk robe from a hanger. It was deep blue color, not bright enough to compromise the night. This garment had been passed down through the generations of her family, and from her mother’s hands to her own. She tugged the smooth fabric around her shoulders, allowing it to dangle loosely from her frame.
If nothing else, at least she could die in it.
Everything else she took would be purely practical. Behind a sliding wall was her personal armory. From it, she selected a number of small, easily concealable weapons. They were tucked into various compartments inside her boots, leather pants, and beneath her top. She almost felt vulnerable leaving without heavier firepower, but it was key to lay low in times like these. Big weapons invited questions, and she didn’t much care to answer them when the future seemed quite so…unpredictable. As she approached the heavy metal door that separated her apartment from a dimly lit hallway, she cast a sidelong glance at a decorated red envelope that lay open on a coffee table.
She gave a roll of her glowing eyes. Vampires were such dramatic creatures. Nevertheless, she swiped it up between two fingers and tucked it into her pants.
She stepped through the wide door, bringing it shut with a notable ‘clang’. A flight of stairs would lead her upwards and spit her out onto the nighttime street. Suddenly, she was a part of the night, blended to it like moving shadow. Her black hair acted as a cloak, hanging down to nearly graze her hips. It would take a keen pair of eyes to find the glint of her pale face reflecting the moonlight, or the colored accents in the floral pattern of her robe. | Name: Kaori Lyle
Age: 42 (Appears Early 20’s)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire
Talents:
- Immortality
- Enhanced strength and agility
- Enhanced Senses
- Healing
- Experienced with firearms and blades
- Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes
History: During the Vietnam War, Kaori’s father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised.
In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family’s decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income.
In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of ‘work’ into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her ‘change’ into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles.
Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively.
Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence.
Psychological Profile: Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn’t exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn’t opposed to taking a life, she also doesn’t murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she’s always been a bit of a loner and doesn’t confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it’s unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty.
Possessions:
-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother
-A small arsenal of firearms
-Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia
Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent. |
46,553 | 1,263 | 77 | 2,377 | 482 | Rikive didn't like the vague answer she was given to her question. At least the answer to Beth's was sufficient and seemed rather genuine. Still, she wouldn't be sleeping for the rest of the night. There were a few new faces other than Autumn and Gray that she didn't know what to make of just yet and she wasn't ready to let her guard down.
She turned her attention to the new plan of finding a vampire to abduct. "That I can assist with." She offered, since it involved more fighting than anything more cloak and dagger related. She shot a look at the only human in the room since he volunteered and the grocery shopping comment confused her. "If nothing else I can keep an eye on him." She said, pointing with her thumb over to the mortal. Bullets hurt but she healed from the wounds just fine and silver had no effect on her. | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,554 | 1,263 | 78 | 2,024 | 59 | Karram sheathed Oakbane and sat back down. He listened to Autmumn give her answers, one offering little to no details and the other giving a sufficient and plausible reason. Karram let his arm sling over the end of the chair as he assumed a more laid back posture. It was unlike him to do so, but at this point, his brain was fried and the excitement from earlier was finally taking its toll. The conversation quickly returned to the capturing of a vampire... one high enough in the ranks to offer information or play along with their plans, but not too high as to instantly sound the alarms when he or she didn't show up for dinner. Karram ran through a list of names in his head, but the majority of those he'd been in contact with were either dead or too close to the end boss. He did have one skill that could prove useful in this situation, however. He sat up in his chair and looked towards the group.
"If we can't get the vamp to help us, we could attempt an inside job. Snag the vampire, interrogate em, and then I can disguise myself with their likeness and hopefully walk in to the club freely. From there we stage a- I don't know- a Trojan horse routine or something and get to our target? Just a thought, a... last resort or alternative route." Karram would shrug with each progressively less confident sentence. He wasn't thrilled to throw himself to the dogs like that, but if he was going to avenge his uncle's death and help this ragtag group stop the damn mummy, he'd have to share what gifts he had to offer. | Name: Karram Sylian
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie)
Talents:
-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time.
-Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade.
-Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others.
-Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.)
-Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives.
-Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter.
History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own.
For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live.
Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past.
In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans).
But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees...
Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships.
Possessions:
-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic.
-Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family.
-Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon.
Yes, and:
Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued.
Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil.
(^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.) |
46,555 | 1,263 | 79 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Later...
Tony was not a guy with a car thief skillset or any particular comfort in playing the role of some sort of kidnapper, but other people in the bunker clearly had the skillset.
So they got their hands on one of those full-sized vans that a plumber might use and some other sundries and then parked themselves near the Rusty Steak Knife, which was an awful name for even a seedy looking bar like this. That was the exterior, anyway. Vampires enjoyed their melodrama and what looked like a seedy joint was actually meticulously designed to be seedy. Inside was a nightclub that'd rate with anything one might find in the richest part of the city, designed to be as chic and ultramodern and unbelievable as possible.
It was a place where the vampires brought their new thralls, or people about to be enthralled -- blood dolls, muscle, government officials and businessmen that they were trying to subvert. It was a busy, bloody little beehive of activity, especially as Nemsemet took the gloves off on creating more vampires and enthralling more mortals.
Vampires did so adore to hide in plain sight. The number of couture'd people mingling nearby, however, as well as the presence of thralls in somewhat cheaper suits and wielding radios gave a bit of a lie to that. Sure, it was in the ghetto, but vampires didn't fear mortal gangs. In most cases, they had control of them anyway and what they didn't control they could wipe out pretty quickly enough -- it was a simple matter of supplying rivals with guns moreso than slaughtering outright. No one screwed with the operation, as a result. The security wasn't there because they were worried about mortals -- they always had the mortals in the palm of their hands. It was the great advantage of vampires.
The vampires, moreso than any other group that existed in the society of the Courts, were masters of subverting mortal institutions -- their blood was addictive, they looked very human. They had the advantage of being human once, and knowing the system more thoroughly. A predator who was once the prey knew all the prey's vulnerabilities, given sufficient thought.
Moreso than any in the Courts, they adapted to the modern world and thrived, only held in check by the rules that kept them from breeding too many, too fast and endangering their existence. And apparently, Nemsemet played upon the right ones with their frustrations at living in the shadows, promising a better day.
It was headache-inducing to think about it. Sure, the Court was messed up -- the tithe alone was onerous taxation, kept high so as to ensure a steady pool of servants and keep the Courts nobility in plush luxury. It created the resentments that led to so many supporting Nemsemet in dismantling the system, even if it meant throwing mortals to the wolves. And some of them were the wolves, so that idea was made even more appealing.
Tony was in the driver's seat, wearing mechanic's coveralls -- he figured he was black and that made the whole disguise credible, but he had to stay in the car with a good bit of air freshener because vampires could smell him; their sense of smell was acute too. It meant he couldn't do the snatch, but that was okay, because he didn't want Rivike doing the driving anymore anyway.
Theirs wasn't the only vehicle, but this was the snatch-van. "Okay, guys, I'm coming up on it," he said as he parked the van nearby. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,556 | 1,263 | 80 | 781 | 162 | Rikive flipped open the small, black purse Parael had given her to hold her sword. It still fascinated her how with a simple spell, this tiny bag could hold an infinite number of items. Plus it matched her outfit, which seemed pretty fitting for a nightclub and may help her seem less suspicious. Not a terribly difficult look to put together since the only clothes she had were ones Parael had picked out for her during their shopping excursion.
She shut the purse and let it fall by her hip, the strap hanging across her chest. "Should I go move into position?" She asked Tony, leaning forward a bit from her seat in the back of the van so she could see through windshield. | Name: Kaori Lyle
Age: 42 (Appears Early 20’s)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire
Talents:
- Immortality
- Enhanced strength and agility
- Enhanced Senses
- Healing
- Experienced with firearms and blades
- Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes
History: During the Vietnam War, Kaori’s father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised.
In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family’s decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income.
In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of ‘work’ into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her ‘change’ into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles.
Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively.
Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence.
Psychological Profile: Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn’t exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn’t opposed to taking a life, she also doesn’t murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she’s always been a bit of a loner and doesn’t confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it’s unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty.
Possessions:
-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother
-A small arsenal of firearms
-Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia
Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent. |
46,557 | 1,263 | 81 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint sat in the lookout car, it was parked across the street and half a block back. He didn’t talk to any passengers, more focused on keeping his eyes peeled for anything suspicious down the street. He feels his way to the glove compartment and removes another old fashioned revolver, he slips it into his jacket pocket then glances to the sawn off shotgun hidden between the seats, beside the hand break. After the last battle, Flint was not going to run out of firepower any time soon.
Flint caught a few people he could suspect where vampires, how they moved so elegantly or the way there chest rose as they breathed. Despite this they weren’t just here for vampires, they were here for vampires they could use. Flint wasn’t really up to date on the vampire families, if he ever got a case he would read up on them but then would forget a few days later. As he opened up a bottle of cheap whiskey, Flint sighed out of boredom, glugging some of the dark liquid down | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,558 | 1,263 | 82 | 2,377 | 482 | Invisible to the mortal eye, Beth wandered around the stolen vehicle in a vast circle. She knew from past experiences that vampires could not only sense her, but see her whether or not she was tangible. The relationship between vampires and the undead was little to be spoken of. There may have been a few vague alliances between some of the living dead and the bloodsuckers before Nemsemet rose, since both lost their humanity. After the dread mummy sacked the Court alliances fell to shit.
She surveyed everything around them twice—she kept to the shadows and passed through a few walls to avoid appearing suspicious—and spied a few stragglers. Slipping through the side of the van, and careful not to pass through any of the others, she spoke to the rest of the team. “Two in the alley behind the bar, two more lingering by the door, and one outside.” She crouched by the back of the van, only a thin layer of tangibility at the soles of her feet keeping her from falling through the floor.
“Now’s as good a time as any,” she added, before exiting the van. Beth waited in the long shadow it cast for the mystery woman, the hunter and Rikive to join her. | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,559 | 1,263 | 83 | 2,024 | 59 | Karram sat in the back of Flint's vehicle watching the activity near the club. It was a dingy looking environment, to say the least. But Karram knew all too well this was simply a front for what lies beyond those exterior walls. Inside would be a dimly lit and highly fashionable area full of vampires and thralls and everything in between dancing and sorting their business and enjoying drinks. The quality of the interior could beat out any 5-star club downtown, and that fact filled the vampires with a sense of pride. Karram had been in quite a few of these exclusive clubs in his lifetime, mostly by order of the court to investigate suspicious transactions; after all, de Lacy liked to keep a watchful eye on all his subordinates.
And yet now, he sat parallel to the place, hoping there wouldn't be a need for him to enter The Rusty Steak Knife (what a terrible name, he thought). He hoped this small-scale operation would go off without a hitch, but a churning pain in his stomach seemed to think otherwise. Nonetheless, Karram stayed on guard, his eyes carefully scanning the club and the area surrounding their car, and his hand firmly grasping the hilt of his blade. Karram's eyes darted to Flint when he began sipping down whiskey. Nerves, or boredom? Never know with this guy, he thought as his sense memory kicked in and the taste of the whiskey subtly flavored his palate. He shook off the thought and leaned forward.
"Spare a swig," he questioned? A little alcohol might calm my nerves. | Name: Karram Sylian
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie)
Talents:
-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time.
-Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade.
-Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others.
-Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.)
-Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives.
-Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter.
History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own.
For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live.
Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past.
In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans).
But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees...
Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships.
Possessions:
-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic.
-Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family.
-Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon.
Yes, and:
Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued.
Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil.
(^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.) |
46,560 | 1,263 | 84 | 2,534 | 450 | Parry did not take to the group's berating him well. Not at all. In his mind, the lawyer was a flawlessly qualified and safe companion for having bailed Parry out of jail on de Lacy's orders, putting up with his admittedly dramatic whining over the outfit, and to top it all off, not billing him at a Paranormal rate for her services. She'd done it at human rate- practically pro-bono. de Lacy was willing to spring Parry's bail, but the Celestial had to pay for his own mistakes. Fair enough.
And then there was that hunter. Mmmmmmmm-mmmmm! Yummy! But the bunker wasn't a bar, and even Parry could exercise a little self control. So while he pouted over being on the outs with the group, the Celestial let visions of Gray dance in his head while he unpacked his change of clothes. A more formal black clubbing shirt, done by Gucci. The group was supposed to be sneaky about this whole operation and luckily Parry had grabbed one piece of black clothing before the daycare was destroyed.
Even as the group pulled up outside the Rusty Steak Knife club (and really, what kind of a name was that anyway? It didn't communicate flashing lights, dancers and loud music very well- more like a fancy dinner place where everyone had to wear nice clothes and guys in foreign accents made deals in dark corners- oh, wait!) Parry was stuck in the front seat of the van, pouting with his arms crossed over his Prada diaper bag. The vampires were coming and going outside the club, while well dressed humans from the West Side waited in line with their dates, preparing for a fancy steak dinner, overpriced and underfed, serenaded by a vampire with a Siren's voice. Or maybe an actual Siren. The humans would spend-spend-spend, Master vamp Billy Rikkers would rake in the cash from the food and booze. And the small vampire covens he controlled would keep giving him tribute.
Unless somebody upset the system.
Now Parael Magnus had existed for a long time. A long, long time. So he was occasionally capable of thinking like an adult. But there was a reason he was so good with children. That reason: he might think like an adult, but he definitely behaved like a child. He acted on impulse, went for self-gratification over self-preservation.
So while Parry sulked in the front of the van, left out in the cold from the group, Parry's mind seized on an idea that would redeem him in the eyes of the group.
Foolproof. Ingenius. Laudable.
Undoubtedly poorly thought out.
So Parry fished one hand into his diaper bag, grabbed the empty flask of Celestial blood, and slipped it into his jeans pocket. He unlocked and opened the van's front door, murmuring "Potty break. Gimme two seconds." Nobody stopped him since they were all focused on Tony and Flint and one of the vampires on the outside. So Parry casually and non-chalantly walked across the city street, to the front of the establishment where the vampire Maitre'd stood like an elegant bouncer and gatekeeper, gazing at this newcomer in admittedly expensive designer clothes, but clearly not dressed in a suit and tie like most of the clientelle he was letting in.
"I need to speak to 'il Duce', please," Parry said, deliberately using Billy Rikker's nickname among the covens. He might not come off as a vampire to this guy, but the head waiter would know Parry was in the know about who Billy really was. To emphasize his next words, Parry pulled the empty silver flask from his front pocket and unscrewed the cap, letting the scent of the dregs of Celestial blood waft up into the waiter's nose. "I have something he might be willing to, er, purchase." | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,561 | 1,263 | 85 | 1,650 | 715 | Gray had a little fun on his grocery run. He didn't need any more guns at this point but he employed his imagination anyways. After all, this was supposed to be subtle and he could do subtle. The AA12 rested comfortably beneath an article of clothing on the center floor in Flint's car as the hunter got out. No point in making things obvious by bringing it. Instead he had a long gym bag with him. The buttoned coat covered his armor, managing to make him look more bulky than he really was.
The night was a welcome thing to vampires. They were unrestricted and bold but it also made them more predictable. A club. A filthy place of intoxicating influence and obnoxious noise. Like high school prom night all over again. Good thing he had no intention of actually entering. Gray was here for the nab and working as a group would certainly make this easier. He glanced over to the van expectantly. Autumn could help identify a target and Rikive, the other volunteer, would help nab them. She was a mystery. She didn't smell abnormal or look strange. Though she did talk with rather a "classic" vocabulary. Kind of like she was stuck in the past. And then there's that sword she had in the bunker. Gray shrugged at the thought and pulled out his cell phone. "Hey Autumn, time for the party. Are you ready to dance?" He had some fun with the euphemism, grinning playfully despite the fact that no one seemed like they were paying attention to him. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,562 | 1,263 | 86 | 2,356 | 5,042 | With the hasty preparations in order they had gotten into their respective vehicles and gone out to nad a vampire. As she herself had learned the majority of them had joined Nemsemet after the fall of the court. That detail didn't really surprise her. More often than not they would side with whomever benefited them the most. A trait she herself practiced often. However the new player was an unknown and threatened to upset the balance of power, something she worked very hard to fit into.
Originally planning to go in the car she opted for the van so she could be the communicator of the group. Keeping her phone out she appeared to be messaging someone. There was a female vampire just outside the club that had been talking with another. While the details of the conversation were unclear it did look as is one of them had higher clout but where on the food chain that actually was was anyone's guess. Answering Grey's call she had her usual together tone. "Of course. There is a woman of interest just outside... hold on a minute."
Having trailed off she got up from her seat and tried to get Perry's attention before he got too far but it was too late. "Perry, get back here you... ugh." Getting back in her seat she held the phone back to her ear. "Perry has taken it upon himself to be an idiot and stepped out. Our plan may be shot. Stand by." She peeked out of the window to watch as events unfolded. | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,563 | 1,263 | 87 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Shit, Tony breathed. There was nothing stopping the vampers from going after people anymore; not on Nemsemet's watch. It was a war now, and Parael seemed to be operating under the idea that diplomacy was a thing.
It was "Autumn," Rivike and he in the van, with a lot of bad smell in the air thanks to the measures taken to keep his scent out of vampire nostrils. "There's gotta be a bunch of vamps in here, we can't take them all on like that just to get one guy out." That, of course, was the whole reason that they decided on a kidnap, because going in was bad, especially when the vampires seemed to be firmly in Nemsemet's camp and reveling in their little empire of the night.
"I think we need to ask Casper to go around and keep an eye on the most expensive car in the place's parking lot -- that'd be the big boss vamp's ride. Probably a limo. If he tries to come out with Parael, so like to drain him dry in private, maybe we can try to stop it somehow after it pulls out for a bit. Flint will know best how to tail it, so we should follow his lead on how to handle that." He was lowballing it-- sure, he could go man-beast, but it'd draw a lot of bad attention and throw this place into lockdown."
He took in a deep breath of the air and instantly regretted it; that fabreeze shit was stinging his nostrils something harshly. But he had a sudden idea, "If we grab the vamp you were just eyeballing, and we gotta do it fast with Shieldmaiden and maybe me goosing them, we can get the big vamp to pop out of his clubhouse in a hurry...either that or he locks himself down and we can figure out something to do with that too. But the numbers in there really suck and if they load silver, I'm in bad trouble there. Of course, they aren't expecting a lot of lycan trouble, since they're playing for the same team, aren't they? What do you think?" | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,564 | 1,263 | 88 | 2,534 | 450 | Rikive stood up so fast that she nearly bumped her head on the roof of the van before she remembered the height. "What in the Nine Worlds is he doing?" She asked, barely keeping herself from shouting when she saw what Parael had done. This was bad, the place was full of vampires and one whiff of Parael's blood he carried in those cursed flasks...He may not be able to walk out.
"I have to go in and get him." She said after Tony laid out his plan, moving forward so she could lean over the front seat and speak to him better. "I doubt he has much of a plan. With how many vampires are in there, he'll easily be overwhelmed if they attack him. I can drag him out before he does anything." It'd have to be now though, while he was still only just inside the building. The deeper he went, the more of a mess it would be to try and pull him back out. "My attire suits the establishment, I could be quick. I'll go in, say he's drunk, then pull him back out. If he isn't that far into the damned place."
She didn't move after she laid out her plan. She didn't head for the doors at the back, she stood and waited for Tony to weigh in on her own half thought out plan. There was no clear leader yet, but Tony seemed as good a candidate as any. | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,565 | 1,263 | 89 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint turned his head to look to Karrem, his five-o-clock shadow shading his hard features. His face looked of utter boredom mixed with anger and a dollop of unemotional death. He looked down at the bottle then back to Karrem, the expression not changing.
He finally spoke. “Sure” the word came out in a mono tone voice almost like that of a robot. The bottle of whiskey was soon in Karrems hand as Flint turned back to look towards the club. Action man had exited the car and seemed to be talking to someone, Flint didn’t pay too much attention as he unfortunately began to see the plan fall apart.
Parry was walking towards the door, and Flint didn’t seem so bored anymore. “Fuck” He muttered, sitting up straight and looking to Karrem in the back seat. “You sure you are going to be ok with that stick if shit go’s down” Flint asked, noting the sword at the faerie’s hip. “I can give you something with a bit more reach if you want.” | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,566 | 1,263 | 90 | 2,024 | 59 | Karram took hold of the flask and took two deliberate sips of the bitter liquid. His face twinged a little before turning normal once more. He handed the flask back, wiping his mouth as he did. He stretched his arms out wide and let out a half-yawn before Flint muttered a breathy "Fuck".
Karram instantly reached for his blade's hilt again and peered out the window of the vehicle. Parry was on the move and was soon talking to the bouncer... about what Karram could only guess. And none of his guesses led to a happy ending.
“You sure you are going to be ok with that stick if shit go’s down. I can give you something with a bit more reach if you want.” Flint was eyeing Karram's sword. This sword had seen many years of use, and yet it never dulled. Eromyr had given it to him as a gift in celebration of his passing the council's judgement in Ireland. Oakbane, a fearsome blade that allowed Karram to harness natural energy and wield it as his own. Its abilities were powerful, but relatively unknown even to other magical beings. Karram was good at keeping secrets after all. He clutched the hilt tighter and looked back up.
"Oakbane is suited for any style of combat, so I think I'll manage. Thank you though, Flint. It 'shit go's down', as I presume it will, I've got your back." He nodded to emphasize his point and slid into the front seat with ease so he could get a better view of the club's entrance. | Name: Karram Sylian
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie)
Talents:
-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time.
-Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade.
-Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others.
-Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.)
-Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives.
-Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter.
History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own.
For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live.
Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past.
In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans).
But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees...
Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships.
Possessions:
-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic.
-Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family.
-Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon.
Yes, and:
Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued.
Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil.
(^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.) |
46,567 | 1,263 | 91 | 781 | 162 | The tall vampire had heard her name being called from the door, "Kaori, party of one?" But Quill would wait, at least long enough for her to gather her senses. Unfortunately, as soon as she had, she heard the 'pop' of silenced fire. To the ears of a vampire, a silencer was virtually useless. It wasn't as explosive, but perfectly audible. But then, the silencers weren't for their benefit. Any wise vampire wouldn't dare intervene in Rikker's work. The silencers were meant to keep things quiet enough to deflect unwanted outside attention or interference. Although, in times like these, it seemed unlikely that anyone would want to tangle with the vampires, especially someone as powerful as Rikker.
A scent ripped through the air along with the subtle sound. In instant, her head was swimming again. What is this? She was pulled under. So deep, she had all but lost her grip completely in a fraction of a second. A menacing growl raked over her ears. She felt it rumbling from her throat like thunder. Her body tensed into a low crouch, like a coil ready to spring. It was instinctual at this point, impossible to ignore for someone her age. The older a vampire, the more experienced they tended to be with matters of self-control. Kaori was remarkably controlled for someone under 50, but even she couldn't help herself with that incredible aroma in the air.
Chaos erupted within and around the club as celestial blood was shed. In a short instant, she was a part of the animalistic herd, frenzied over a feeding. She sprung from her spot on the wall, leaping half the length of the sidewalk and running along the rest to burst through the entrance. There was a mass of vampires clawing for the bloodied body on the floor. Kaori knew it would hardly be a single minute before the unknown idiot was torn to shreds. She didn't care.
Her eyes flicked around, assessing the situation. It was similar to the way a pack of wolves would feed. Rikker and his guards lunged for the body, claiming the kill. The majority of vampires in the club had flown from their seats. The wiser ones had begun to form a circle, waiting for a scrap or two to be left behind by their leader. The few younger vampires that either couldn't control their urges or didn't know they had to were torn back, viciously punished by an older and wiser beast. Battles developed, staining the floor with rich, red warmth. The unfortunate mortals that had shown up that night began to scream, looking for an escape and torn down before they'd made it more than a step or two.
It was unrestrained violence and chaos, and Kaori hated how good it felt. It was home for a vampire.
But not just any blood would do tonight. It had to be this unearthly creature. Her predatory gaze narrowed in on him, in the murderous clutches of Rikkers fists. The vampires in the surrounding circle grew increasingly anxious as Rikker toyed with his prey, as if the conquest would be satisfaction for the group as a whole. Rikker took his time, savoring the kill and teasing it with the chilling words, "I will devour you." | Name: Kaori Lyle
Age: 42 (Appears Early 20’s)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire
Talents:
- Immortality
- Enhanced strength and agility
- Enhanced Senses
- Healing
- Experienced with firearms and blades
- Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes
History: During the Vietnam War, Kaori’s father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised.
In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family’s decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income.
In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of ‘work’ into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her ‘change’ into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles.
Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively.
Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence.
Psychological Profile: Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn’t exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn’t opposed to taking a life, she also doesn’t murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she’s always been a bit of a loner and doesn’t confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it’s unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty.
Possessions:
-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother
-A small arsenal of firearms
-Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia
Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent. |
46,568 | 1,263 | 92 | 1,012 | 4,032 | The sound of gun fire reached Rikive's ears and her eyes widened before she turned and bolted out of the back of the van. She passed right through Beth and a shudder ran up her spine from the sensation, but she ignored it and headed for the club that was quickly descending into chaos. In a matter of seconds she was at the front door of the club, pushing her way through panicking humans that were fleeing the club.
It was absolute chaos. A horrifying feeding frenzy and she knew what the cause was.
Rage flooded through her seeing Parael in the clutches of a vampire. Not breaking her stride she reached into her purse to pull forth her sword. Rather than try to go through the chaos in front of her, she jumped up and over the fighting vampires. Her head brushed against the ceiling as she unsheathed her sword.
With a battle cry she descended into the center of the madness where Parael lay. The light flashed off the metal of her blade as it whistled through the air like a flash of lightning. It sliced through the hand of the vampire as he turned to react to her. His scream of pain from his smoking stump was cut off when she slammed her shield into him and sent him sprawling back and away from Parael. His dismembered hand turned to smoldering ash when it hit the carpet.
"Away or I shall send all of thee back to the fiery pits from which thy crawled from!" She shouted, taking up position over Parael and knocking back another attacking vampire with her shield. Movement out of the corner of her eye had her turning and her sword cut off the head of a red haired vampire. Her face was frozen in stunned horror for a moment before her head and the rest of her body exploded into ash and embers.
A vampire managed to jump on her back and sunk his fangs into the meat between her neck and shoulder. As the man let out a pleasure filled moan, she swung her sword back and stabbed him in the gut. He shrieked and released her, his fangs tearing open her flesh and clothes as he fell off her back, clawing at his burning wound. The injury on her neck was large and the scent of her own blood mingled into the air even as it began to close.
Parael didn't have the same ability as her. She needed to pick him up and move him somewhere safe to take care of his wounds. However she also needed both her arms free to keep the damn leeches away. As she hit away one vampire with her shield and turned to slice another open with her sword, an idea of pure madness came to mind. "Thou hast no hope of getting by me!" She shouted even as she continued to fight. "But, I will allow the vampire that aid's me-" She stopped to stab out with her sword, sending it straight through the open mouth of an attacking vampire and out the back of his skull. She yanked it out as the vampire's head as his body turned to smoldering ash. "To drink freely from me!" If nothing else the proposition should help further turn the vampires onto each other. They had already smelled that her blood was just as intoxicating as Parael's. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,569 | 1,263 | 93 | 2,246 | 3,527 | “I’ll take your word for it” Flint said, as he noticed the Cinema explode into a frenzy of mortals .“Well the shit has hit the fan” Flint was soon outside the vehicle and to the boot of the car, inside he grabbed his beloved Thompson and racked the slide. “Ok stay beside me, I’ve got the range covered, but if they get close enough to caress my hair I’ll need you on point” The orders where directed towards Karrem, and before he gave him chance to respond Flint was on the move towards the club.
When he got to the entrance he saw the chaos unfold, vampires and thralls in troves as Parry lay bloody. Rikive thought with her sword and yelled something Flint could not hear. Tony was slashing and ripping people a part. Flint took a swig from his bottle and smashed it onto the floor by his feet. He was back in the 20’s, the enemy gang drinking and brawling in front of him. He was the leader of the Booze Hounds, and he began to clean up. Flint fired from the hip, the gun in one hand as he began to light up fireballs in his left. The recoil was controlled, and the gun hit its mark as vampires and thralls where spattered by .45 calibre fire. In ten seconds the entire 100 round magazine was empty, the bodies of the men he had shot barely had hit the ground before the Thompson was dropped and his right hand erupted in flame.
Flint aimed his two hands at the crowd and a wave of orange flame erupted over the masses, he hoped his comrades would be safe from the blast but his main concern was causing as much damage and as much panic that the Vampires would think they were up against an army of flame thrower wielding, machine gun toting bad asses. Instead of the ragtag group of sword wielders, drunks, monsters and the rest of the motley crew. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,570 | 1,263 | 94 | 1,650 | 715 | Half-tempted to grab his shotgun he reasoned there was another way. In the gym bag in his left hand were items meant to help him capture a vampire but they would certainly be good enough to disrupt the crowd given the right combination. He dropped the bag and unzipped it, sifting through several items, metal bat, wood stake, towels, - there it was. He pulled an aerosol can out of the bag followed by a towel and tied it hastily around the can, creating a makeshift sling. Out of a pouch he retrieved a lighter and lit the bottom. Gray didn't smoke but man did a lighter come in handy. He walked toward the Rusty Steak Knife as the towel burned, picking up heating and volume. With one good swing he shot it over the heads of his companions and into a group of surprised denizens.
As the can impacted the pressure and heat caused it to burst outwards in flames catching clothing and skin alight and making for some impressive pyrotechnics from such a small object. Though not necessarily to an immortal foe it was one hell of a painful deterrent to buy the others some time.
To further support the others Gray drew a Glock and started firing three-shot bursts into the wings of the vampire group that threatened to surround his retreating allies. They would need to get to the cars fast. Even outrunning vampires here could prove challenging.
And then Flint showed everyone why Gray loved weapons with large magazines. Then he made the hunter's pyro trick look like a cheap match. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,571 | 1,263 | 95 | 781 | 162 | I'm- Rikive cut herself off to slash at another vampire. "TRYING!" She shouted back at Tony. She needed a bigger distraction, something that would really draw these damned creatures away from-
Flames as bright as the sun suddenly swept through the crowd and Rikive held up her shield to protect herself from the heat. The fire blasted against her shield as it blew over their heads. She remained relatively untouched, but the vampires surrounding her ignited and furthered the spiral of chaos. Flint. That would certainly work.
She crouched down and picked up Parael's limp body, throwing his lanky form over her shoulder. Her shield arm gripped onto him to keep him there so he would be somewhat protected. Taking in a deep breath she charged back into the crowd, not as thick as before and greatly distracted by the attack on the fringes.
A few times she had to lash out with her sword or slam her shoulder into someone, but she managed to bully her way through the crowd. A stray bullet went in her gut and she grunted, but pressed on. Finally she broke free onto the other side, panting for breath and sweat beading on her skin. "I got the eldhúsfífl!" She shouted, running toward the safety of Flint and the hunter Gray. "Send them to their weak and pitiful Gods, lads!" She yelled as encouragement while she passed them and headed for the door. Loved as she would to stay and continue to help with the fight, Parael had been left to bleed for far too long.
The outside air felt like a blast of arctic wind when she emerged and headed for the van. She threw open one of the doors to the van and laid Parael down on the floor as her shield returned to a sheath. It clattered onto the floor and she placed Winterthorn beside it, within easy reach if something else happened.
Rikive barely acknowledge those still in the van and focused on taking care of Parael. A heap of swears and other choice words fell from her lips in old Norse as she ripped open Parael's shirt to get to the wounds of his chest. Her heart was pounding in her chest and it had nothing to do with the battle.
It had everything to do with the fact her close friend may very well die if she made a mistake. Tear's were close to the surface of her eyes as she pressed her hands tightly over the two gunshot injuries. The blood was warm against her skin but it sent a chill down her spine. Relax. Wisps of luminous white mist drifted from between her fingers, her magic flowing into Parael's chest to repair the damage. Please don't die. | Name: Kaori Lyle
Age: 42 (Appears Early 20’s)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire
Talents:
- Immortality
- Enhanced strength and agility
- Enhanced Senses
- Healing
- Experienced with firearms and blades
- Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes
History: During the Vietnam War, Kaori’s father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised.
In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family’s decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income.
In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of ‘work’ into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her ‘change’ into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles.
Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively.
Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence.
Psychological Profile: Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn’t exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn’t opposed to taking a life, she also doesn’t murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she’s always been a bit of a loner and doesn’t confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it’s unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty.
Possessions:
-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother
-A small arsenal of firearms
-Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia
Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent. |
46,572 | 1,263 | 96 | 2,377 | 482 | Only a moment after she left the van, Beth saw Parael follow suit and head straight for the Rusty Steak Knife. That was not the plan. She spared the van a brief glance before surging after him. Still, she kept to the darkened half of the street and moved through any would-be obstacles to reach him faster. She halted in her path when he entered the bar. What was he up to?
She weighed her options: follow him inside and draw attention as an unfamiliar spirit, or wait and hope he had some sort of an idea. Neither felt like a particularly good plan, and she left herself a mental note to kick Parry up the ass should they make it back to the bunker. Beth huddled in the shadows near the building, watching the front doors and the Celestial as she tried to keep an eye on just about everything else, as well. Despite having no body, she felt tense, especially when she saw Parael disappear into the bar.
She cursed the old witch for never giving her something more than what she did, for not granting her superior senses upon her death, or something. Beth couldn't hear a thing said inside the bar and it only served to make her more anxious.
Then she heard the gun shots, and Rikive sped through her and sent a bolt of pins and needles through her form.
Beth moved so fast she all but vanished. She raced into the Rusty Steak Knife, disregarding the multitude of sensations that washed over her as she passed through humans and thralls alike on her way into the club, and wound up among the swarming bodies of vampires. She turned corporeal and shoved the nearest body out of her way, then spun, looking everywhere for Parael, and saw the clan tearing at themselves in their haste to feed on him. Then the Asgardian reappeared, leaping over the fray, and providing Beth with a trail to follow.
Halfway to the center of the frenzy, she started throwing bodies. She dug intangible hands into their chests, ignoring the burning sensation that grew the longer she did, became solid again, and tossed them as far as she could. Tony's beast form flashed in her peripherals. A quick look around deduced that her allies were pulling together, but if they did not organise themselves they would surely fail.
A flash of light erupted into a curtain of flame around a large portion of the clan. Beth walked through it quite unharmed, only to lose sight of her goal when something exploded behind her. A bullet or two zipped through her. She growled and, no longer caring, passed directly through the remaining throngs of vampires to reach the center. As she did, she saw Rikive hoist Parael onto her shoulders and sprint away with him, past Flint, and out of the building. Beth made to follow, and came to Flint's side as a figure swiped at him.
"Move!" she yelled, though her voice could barely be heard over the frenzy. She turned tangible once more and rushed forward to tackle to offending vampire. Perhaps there was still a chance to complete their initial mission. | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,573 | 1,263 | 97 | 2,534 | 450 | I'm on acid, Parry said. "And I swore I'd never do acid again after the 70s."
"Whatever," the giant caterpillar with the face of Richard Pryor said, taking another hit from his bong. Caterpillar Pryor passed the bong to the white rabbit wearing a disco jacket, who promptly hit that glass pipe and blew a wave of smoke into Parry's face. The rabbit promptly checked its watch and checked out, then passed the bong to Michael Jackson. All three were careful to avoid the tabletop of Doritos, Funions, Cheetos, and cold pizza that covered every inch of the tablecloth.
Parry refused to believe he was where he thought he was. Because if he was where he thought he was, he was royally fucked. The entrance to the Nether, who or what waited for a being, changed based on who died and where, but some things never changed.
He was 90% sure that the beach of silver sand that stretched on into eternity was normal, as were the golden waves lapping at it in the darkness of night, from an ocean that also stretched onto the horizon. One occasionally had a fog bank rolling in around oneself as well, when one investigated the surroundings too closely. He was on The fucking Shore. The Shore was bad news. Maybe he was just in a coma. He'd escorted a few beings to The Shore back in the day. Caesar showed up to a banquet full of bitches eating honey cakes and drinking wine in an orgy of food. And he'd escorted one guy here for just a few seconds back in the 80s. A cutie pie who'd contracted HIV and didn't have anybody to stand at his bed- Parry walked him in real quick, before any of his colleagues noticed he was on the Shore, and found a display that would make the San Fran Pride Parade stop and go "Okay. No. Just, no."
But the tea party table with giant Caterpillar Pryor, a white rabbit in a disco coat, and Michael Jackson in his glitter jacket and white gloves passing a bong between each other- that was from his own fucked up brain.
"So... I'm dead?"
Caterpillar Pryor took the bong from Jackson in one of his twenty-some arms. "You took two bullets to the liver, one to the right lung, and another grazed your heart. And then you got turned into a buffet for a clan of vampires before leaving a pint of blood on their carpet." Pryor lit the bong with a snap of his/its fingers, took a long puff, and set the pipe down. "So yeah. You're boned."
Michael Jackson reached for the pipe again with a white gloved hand. "On the plus side, you found a way out of the city before the mummy went nuclear."
Parry had to nod while he considered this. He was out of the city, true. No more Nemsemet to worry about. He could relax, chill for eternity, and have a gay old time. He was a Celestial, which meant he got VIP tickets to eternity by default, right?
Right?
"Not necessarily," said the black-robed, hooded figure with six wings that sat at the head of the table. It extended one glowing hand and took a bag of Funions from the munchy buffet the three hallucinations had set up.
Parry's heart stopped (which, when he thought about it, wasn't really possible because his heart hadn't been beating in the real world for a few seconds at least ) as he drank in the sight of Cymriel ripping open a bag of Funions, flaming sword sheathed on one hip, eyes glowing like faint blue stars beneath his hood while he munched on the salty and probably foul tasting snack food. And if Parry was a betting Celestial, he would say that his body peed a little in terror from seeing Cymriel sitting on his Shore.
Right.
Time to settle old accounts.
Parry held one hand out to his left, said "Hit me," to whoever had the bong now (the Rabbit) and took an enormous hit from the hallucinated drug paraphernalia. Thankfully he did feel a buzz kick in when he blew out the smoke, so that was at least working on The Shore. Armed with said bong and a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos the giant caterpillar gave him, Parry put one foot in front of the other, trudging through the sand as Cymriel pulled a chair out for him.
"So," the Seraphic Celestial said between bites. "How was life while you were AWOL? Because I sure as shit hated doing all your work plus mine while you partied it up with the mortals."
Parry sat down, putting the bag and bong in front of him, and held both hands up in a gesture of surrender as he said "Look Cym-"
"Cymriel," the being snapped. "You should at least do me the courtesy of using my full name when addressing the being you left to do all of your work for six-hundred-fucking years."
"I was gonna use your full name!" Stuck up asshole, always playing by the books. Probably gonna draft me back into the Cherubix and make me do all the shit assignments.
"Parry. We're on the gods-damned Shore. Nothing you say or think is private here. Mind yourself or I won't send you back." | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,574 | 1,263 | 98 | 2,024 | 59 | Karram nodded briskly at each quick command Flint flung his way. And within seconds, he was out of the car and headed in the direction of the club, Oakbane now fully drawn and ready for action. As they walked, Karram concentrated on absorbing some of the surrounding nature energy to power up the blade. Could come in handy.
As they reached a closer position, Flint instantly began firing into the club after Gray had created a diversionary explosion. Several vamps came pouring out attempting to deter the ragtag group, and Karram sliced a few of them down with ease before they could reach Flint or anyone else for that matter. Suddenly, a fire storm whizzed over Karram's head and caused more chaos in the club. He noted Rikive pass by holding Parry's limp body. Hopefully he would pull through despite his foolish antics. But nevertheless, Karram couldn't hold onto the thought for long, as a few more enemies ducked under the flames and came near the group. This time thralls.
Karram knocked one down with a rough roundhouse to the face while simultaneously stabbing another through the head. This was quickly descending into a bloody and explosive mess. Soon the mortal world would be alerted their shenanigans, so they needed to get the hell out of here asap! After dealing with the vicious thralls he sprouted his ethereal wings and darted through the club with almost blinding speed to get a quick view of everything happening within. He saw Tony ripping through beings left and right and saw the overall confusion of all the club-goers as well. Some were springing into action in an attempt to defend themselves and the club while others helplessly fell to the ground with fearful expressions on their faces. Karram covered Tony's back for a few seconds, taking down several vampires who threatened to attack him from behind. He could tell Tony's lycan abilities, while powerful, were not going to stand against this large number of vampires for much longer.
Karram zipped back to his previous position, noting that Beth had just landed atop a vampire just in front of Flint. Karram landed and pointed the sword at the grounded being, but looked at Flint. "It appears Tony is at odds with several vampires and thralls within and needs help immediately. Parael and Rikive have made it to safety. So two questions: are you okay and how should we proceed to rescue Tony?" | Name: Karram Sylian
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie)
Talents:
-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time.
-Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade.
-Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others.
-Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.)
-Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives.
-Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter.
History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own.
For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live.
Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past.
In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans).
But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees...
Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships.
Possessions:
-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic.
-Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family.
-Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon.
Yes, and:
Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued.
Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil.
(^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.) |
46,575 | 1,263 | 99 | 2,246 | 3,527 | The flames from Flint’s hands extinguished as he moved out of the way of the vamp. Beth had stopped him from being sliced and Karrem was soon next to him, his sword drawn towards the offending vamp. Flint was panting, sweat drenching his face as he gulped in breaths of air, the strain of using his power in such a magnitude. People have asked Flint why he uses guns, he has such raw magical ability that can do much more destruction. His answer was simple and always the same.
“I could walk to work, but I use my car every day. Same thing”
“Where taking this one “ Flint told Karrem, nodding to Kaori as he scooped up his tommy gun and shoved it into his inside jacket, when he removed his hand from within, he now held a small yellow firearm looking device. “Use this on her, it’s a Taser just place it against her and squeeze the trigger. Just make sure you aren’t touching her...” He said this to either of the allies in front of him. He wiped the sweat off his brow and turned around back to the fight. “Get her to the van then cover our escape, I’ll go help Tony” He said this all in front of Kaori, knowing there was little she could do against the ghost and fairy.
Still panting, Flint began to walk towards where Tony fought. It was chaos around him but it seemed many people where pre-occupied. A vampire spotted Flint and was soon rushing towards him. Flint focused and splayed his hands towards the creature, air began to rush into the vamps mouth and it soon exited violently outwards, exploding the chest and lower jaw of the blood sucker. The husk collapsed as Flint continued, performing the party trick a few more times before he began to sway, the exhaustion was soon getting to him but he had to keep fighting. He removed his revolver from its shoulder holster and fired it rapidly at anything that came close. He barely made it to where Tony was slaughtering when he fell against the wall, his gun empty.
“Not yet…. Not… yet” He mumbled through gritted teeth. He eyes fluttering to stay conscious. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,576 | 1,263 | 100 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Tony was being overcome quickly; a vampire took a while to heal wounds if inflicted, though it was hard to really inflict the wounds because they were fast and strong. A lycanthrope, by contrast was faster, stronger and healed rapidly enough to stay in a fight, unless the wounds came faster than the healing. Give a lycanthrope wounds in beast form, put them down and they got back up once they were able to heal it.
But shoot them with silver and it was all over, the silver had to come out before they could do any of that. They were weak as a mortal once it happened, with the silver burning into them, disrupting the uneasy spirit barely contained in the weak flesh.
The best werewolf hunters of the ancient era used slings, because they understood that a ball from a sling, a silver ball whirled around on a rope and then released expertly, was the best way to embed silver into the werecreatures while making it very hard for them to extract it. Arrows could be pulled out, swords tended to stay in the hands of users. So on and so forth.
But firearms came along and made it possible to put silver into werecreatures with more ease than a sling, which took such immense skill that it was reserved for a few people who did it from a very young age. A firearm was a weapon a peasant could employ with a small bit of training. It's why the armies issued them. And as more weapons were made, faster loading, more accurate, longer range, the werecreatures became easier to kill; aim a silver bullet for the skull and take them out in one shot. Silver bullet to anywhere that entailed an instant fatality was bound to finish the were fast, if the bullet wasn't pulled out.
Or you shot the were and followed it up with a fast attack to rip them to shreds when they were writhing around or otherwise distracted by the silver. It burned like nothing else, even when it came out.
In the era of rapid fire ballistic weaponry, it was even worse, if one was willing to spend on such rounds. Hunters did, for example; facing multiple baddies, they might load silver, magnesium based tracer and steel-jacketed hollowpoints, the lead exposed, figuring that the mix of rounds gave them a fair chance of engaging different types of supernatural bad. Silver, fire, iron and, of course, lead. Shotguns were popular too -- #4 buck had 41 pellets; if they were silver, it was impossible to dig them all out of a werewolf and get them back into the fight fast. More was better; double-ought buck was a thing for mortals putting down mortals, but some hunters going after weres specifically loaded birdshot, just to have a huge number of small silver pellets going into a werecreature.
It's why lycanthropes adapted and learned to fight in ambush, to get the hell away from anything that smelled like silver. They were cautious as a result of the way much of their own society figured out how to fight them and turned modernity against them.
In any case, it was also why some smart vampire grabbed a shotgun that was there in case of an emergency and shot Tony in the fucking back with it.
And it's why he went down with something like just seven 21 grain pellets in his shoulder, but it was enough to turn a rampaging were-lion, tearing through, holding his own, into a vanilla mortal black man in a lot of pain just like that. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,577 | 1,263 | 101 | 2,377 | 482 | Beth remained crouched on the floor by the tackled vamp with a hand on its chest to keep it down. Her ethereal boots, the very same she died in, met the edge of a puddle of blood spanning from the door to halfway across the club. Celestial and vampire intermingling. She pulled her eyes away from the vicious battle when Karram's sword appeared above her captured vamp. That helped.
Her eyes darted back to the fight as Flint began to give orders. Any other time, she might have had something to say about that. But today Beth was all too happy to do what he said. She took the taser from his outstretched hand and seized the vampire by the arm. Pulling her to her feet, with a grip tight and threatening to give the vamp a terrible sensation, she made for the door. "Come on," she called when she reached the doorway, sparing Flint and Tony a final glance.
With nauseating horror she watched Flint collapse against a wall, and soon after, Tony felled with what she could only guess were silver bullets. "Get them out of here!" she shouted to Karram, gesturing the the slumped bodies of their allies. This time, her voice bellowed over the din.
Parael was in for the world's greatest ass-kicking should he survive.
Beth raced out of the club then, the captured vampire girl in her hands, and took the quickest route to the van without passing through any buildings. "Stay still and I won't have to hurt you," she muttered to the girl. "And maybe they won't either." She shoved the vampire against the wall opposite the van, not daring to bring her any closer to Parael's body and the blood that surely coated the inside of the van. She pointed the taser at the girl's abdomen with her free hand, and called into the van to Rikive without taking her eyes off the vamp. "Tony and Flint need rescuing! How soon can you get there?" | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,578 | 1,263 | 102 | 2,356 | 5,042 | Well the plan fell apart quickly. watching from the van for a bit Autumn was almost tempted to just leave without them. But that wouldn't help her cause or make any friends, which were in short supply at the moment. With a reluctant sigh the woman grabbed the AK and stepped out of the van First she worked her way through the panicking wave of humans. They really could be in the way at times. But at the same time they gave cover. As vampires began to exit she stayed back and took aim. For her mostly unassuming look she has a good shot. Having practiced with firearms since their invention she had to admire their modern construction. In the beginning one pointed and hoped to hit the target. Advancements like the blunderbuss helped by spraying pellets and shrapnel. But it was hard to beat the satisfaction of a rifled weapon. Aim and fire. Automatic weapons just made missing less of an issue.
Sadly your average bullet was only effective in injuring a vampire for a moment. One would need some more specialized ammunition for that. Surely Gray was prepared for that. But not particularly fond of getting up close in a fight she peppered the vamps from behind most. Perry had been hauled out which meant they just needed to grab a target and go while they had the chance. Or at least that was how things should have went. Tony managed to get himself shot though and he went down.
Apparently Beth was dealing with a vampire as well. It was the one from earlier that she had noted. Hopefully Gray still had the venom she'd given him a long way back. She never did explain where she got it. At the time he knew better than to ask. The taser would be good to get her to stay still and make it easier to poison her. It wouldn't take long for the effects to kick in, a good neurotoxin was great for quick immobilization. "Grey, Beth has our target. Sedate her." She pointed to Kaori as the intended target. Now to save the pyro and lycanthrope.
That was easier said than done. It would require doing more than a human could do given how many were around them. Kneeling down she pulled a small blade she had strapped to her leg. It was a small precaution that alone didn't pose much of a threat. Holding it up she placed it in her mouth and drew it across her shortened fangs. Firing bursts into several other vamps she advanced. When she became the subject of attention she avoided a direct contest and side stepped with inhuman speed. Just a light cut with the blade was all that was needed. Thralls were easy as they were slower and after getting a hit in and backing off they dropped like a rocks. The others took a little while longer but that just meant staying out of reach till it had done its job. There were too many to take them all out, but that wasn't the task at hand. With an opening she grabbed Flint and lurched him over to Tony to grab him as well. Purposely loosing her shoes her feet stuck to the concrete and gave her better traction and leverage to pull them both out. "I swear if that idiot survives I'm going to torture him." Hopefully the others could keep the torrent at bay long enough for them to get in the van and run like hell. | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,579 | 1,263 | 103 | 2,534 | 450 | Billy Rikker loved 'Shark Week' because Billy Rikker loved sharks. Whenever that magical week of the year came around, he'd lock himself in his penthouse suite and watch the beloved creatures during all hours of the night and day, and God help whatever sonofabitch disturbed him. See, Billy loved how all sharks had a cool, sleek look to them as they cruised through the water. And being the equivalent of an underwater velociraptor only added to the wow factor. He did feel superior to them in one way, however. Whenever the camera crew dumped chum in the water, the sharks went ape-shit, losing the calm coolness they radiated while cruising the oceans at speed. All of a sudden, they were reduced to mindless savagery. Thrashing in the waves left and right. Feeding so fast they'd never know they'd gotten hooked through the mouth and were being hoisted up into the air where they'd either be gutted and cooked, or tagged and tracked as part of a science project.
'Man,' he'd think to himself, watching the Great White or the sleek Blue getting snagged on a line from the safety of his couch, 'I'm glad I'm smarter than a shark. I'm glad I'd never do something like that.'
So when his brain snapped to with a mouth full of Celestial blood going down, the screams of his exceptionally wealthy human patrons echoing in his ears while his younger vamps lost their shit, his older vamps got roasted by Flint the Mage and Karram the Fairy, the Nordic wench and what smelled like a human turned his front parlor into an abattoir before getting the source of the frenzy out, and Left and Right unloaded shotgun spray on Tony the Tiger, Billy had to whimper a little bit.
See, Billy Rikker liked to play the part of an old Italian Duke who was turned back in the 1600s and Emigrated to the New World. That he was smarter than most and could get shit down with a wave of his hand. Truth was, Billy was less than 80 years old and far from the master politician he claimed to be. He grew up on Camden's East Side and wasn't technically Italian (he was Scottish on his mom's side, and God knew what on his Dad's side courtesy of mom's profession). The only reason people bought into the lie was the fact that Billy popped up out of nowhere and started his own clan on the Dockside. What Billy lacked in political tack, he made up for in threats, a good poker face, and brute force. Nobody in the vampire courts liked Billy because A.) they didn't trust him and B.) they suspected he was a young one.
So here he was, lapping at Celestial blood on the floor with four of his senior vamps, his Thralls getting wasted left and right, and his true vamps behaving like sharks in a documentary after someone spills a gallon of blood in the water.
Billy Rikker would soon have 0 rich humans to give him status, 0 Thralls to do his bidding, and 0 True Vampires to enforce his Will on the rest of the Supernaturals. And his people were about to kill the whole gang of supes Nemsemet wanted more than anything else. And if they died, Billy was stuck in the city like everyone else.
He was boned.
'Wait!' his concious mind wanted him to scream. 'These are the people Nemsemet wants! Everyone stand down! We'll play Let's Make a Deal and I'll finally be Number One in this town! Can't we all just get along?'
His animal instincts kept him lapping at the carpet, trying to get all the blood he could out of the carpet fibers like a fat kid licking spilled ice cream off the floor 'cause he knew he wasn't getting another cone.
Left and Right pumped their shotguns again, ready to blow Tony the Tiger's brains out, but the constant fireballs the Mage was slinging had taken their toll on the glass chandelier above them. The braided Italian rope that held the art piece of blown glass and crystals had started smoldering after the first fireball and Billy's sensitive vampire ears heard the fibers snapping slowly. A stray bullet ricocheted off the wall, caught the fibers, and with a SNAP! the $800,000 piece descended onto his two enforcers, sending a wave of glass shrapnel all across the floor and their shotguns skittering to the front of the club.
And Billy Rikker, Number Two Vampire in the City, aspiring lord of Camden, and sycophant to the all-powerful Nemsemet, kept licking the blood out of the carpet.
===================================================
"It's simple, man. I saw them do it on Mythbusters. You take some iron poles, and then you weave duct tape over it like cloth until you get a boat that floats."
"Parry, you sank in Central Park. You're not a professional."
Parry held up a finger, taking another hit from the bong. He exhaled away from Cymriel's non-face. "Says you. I'm a professional Celestial. Means I can do almost anything I set my mind to."
"Tragically, it seems absolute power corrupted your brain into thinking so."
"Nah, that was the cocaine and moonshine I did in the '20s." Parry smiled, giggling as he remembered all the flappers and booze he'd chased back then. Oh man, and the time Flint had busted into the wrong speakeasy with a trench sweeper- that'd be in his brain for eternity. Nothing like looking for a kidnapping victim only to find oneself in the ONLY gay speakeasy in the whole goddamn city.
"And yet you never went the full length. Most Celestials that go AWOL go Demon right away. You didn't." Cymriel folded hands black as twilight over the empty bag of Funions. "I wonder why?"
"There are some lines even I won't cross," Parry mumbled, stuffing the bowl for another hit.
"Clearly."
They sat in silence for what felt like eternity. Parry stuffing the bowl some more. Cymriel folding his hands, staring at Parry. Parry lighting the bowl. Cymriel Staring. Parry taking one hit. Cymriel staring. Two hits. Staring. Three hits. Staring.
"What?" Parry asked. "You want some? Or are you going to ask the question?"
Cymriel waved his hand, declining the glass pipe. But he did ask "Why did you run?"
Parry rolled his eyes and reached into the never-ending bag of Cool Ranch goodness. "It's the motherfucking Shore, Cymriel. You can look into my brain, so you tell me."
"I don't have the slightest interest in looking through your mind. I'm quite certain it'd drive me mad."
"Then let me put two-and-two together for you," the Celestial quipped. And he looked into Cymriel's eyes. Really looked. And gave his partner-in-divinity the whole story in fast forward.
"The Children's Crusade."
"The motherfucking Children's Crusade." Parry took another hit, trying to get the buzz to wipe away that slasher-snuff mind film he'd replayed in Cym's head.
"Kid's die all the time, Parry. They die all the time today."
That got a reaction. Parry was suddenly on his feet, screaming as he pitched the bong into the ocean- over the protests of Michael Jackson, Caterpillar Pryor and the White Rabbit.
"It wasn't the fucking dying! I got used to that! It was the ones that didn't die! The ones that trusted we were looking out for them, that had all the faith they were doing good, and we stood by and watched as the adults took them and sold them into slavery in lands far away. And we fucking WATCHED!"
"We don't take sides with the humans, Parry. Only when demons are involved. It wasn't our fight."
"Fuck you and your rule book, Cym. You got your answer. Now send me back or don't."
"I can't send you back as you are. You'll be eaten alive by the vamps within seconds. You'll need a Dawn Blade."
Parry twirled his finger in the air. "Whoop-de-doo. Guess I'm dead then. Open the gates and let's see what I get."
"See, that's the thing. I can't open the gates for you either. For anyone."
"The fuck you talking about, Cym?"
Cymriel swept a hand over the table. "Nemsemet hasn't just locked off the city to magic. He's locked the Nether. Everyone and everything that dies there stays on The Shore. de Lacy is two dimensions over and I'd much rather be here with you, the guy who shoved six centuries of a double workload on me. The guy had control issues that extended beyond the boardroom and into the bedroom."
"Really?" Michael Jackson asked.
"No, I'm not sending you to his Shore, Parry. We're talking business right now." Cym folded his hands onto the table, spared a glance at the three hallucinated companions, and with a gust of wind scattered their forms into grains of sand which fell to the beach. "Now that I have your undivided attention."
"You have half of my attention," Parry replied. His bong was suddenly in his hand again, loaded and ready to fire. His fingers snapped, forming a flame that hovered just above the bowl. "So if the blockade extends to the Nether and I need a Dawn Blade, a Celestial weapon forged from a dying star, and mine is in the wreckage of the daycare center, how do you propose to get me back in one piece?"
"You know that diaper bag of yours? The one with a portal to the Nether in it?"
"Yeah, my-" Parry stopped. Narrowed his eyes at Cymriel. "That's not public knowledge. If you knew about the portal spell, you'd have been able to track me down and pull me back."
"Please. When you tried to shove the tiger kitten inside, it got pretty obvious."
"You've seen Shounen-Ai? Where is she? I haven't been able to pull her back since '97!"
"Uriael and Basliel love little Shuyin."
"Her name is Shounen-Ai!"
"Whatever. Shounen-Ai is fine. But more to the point, you've got a single conduit from The Shore to the material world." Cym stood, brushed the Funion crumbs off his black robe, and unclipped the sword at his own hip before tossing it on the table. "So since I'm stuck here with you, have a gift. From me to you. For old times sake. And keeping in the spirit of things, let's go Blue Chips and Red Chips." Parry's hand retracted from the bag of Cool Ranch Doritos as it foil packaging resealed. A bag of Fire Red chips likewise sealed up and floated across the munchie table to him. "Blue Chips, you stay here, get toasted, and leave your friends to fight the vampires and Nemsemet on their own. Eat the Red Chips, I give you my wings and sword, send you back, and wait here in your place. Your friends and pretty soon the whole supernatural population of Camden will know what you are, so your vacation will be over. And when Nemsemet is dealt with or you're dead, you come back to work. Does that seem-"
Parry was gone by the time Cym stopped talking. The bong on the chair and the Fire Red bag ripped open. Cym's sword and his wings were likewise gone. Despite his best efforts, Cym actually felt surprised that Parry, selfish asshole that he was, hadn't stopped to think whether or not he wanted to go back into the fight and sacrifice his anonymity and life of hedonism for a few friends in a jam. He'd stuck it to Cym for so long, and Parry and Cym went back millenia.
And now Cym was stuck on Parry's Shore, with nowhere to be and nothing to do until Nemsemet's spell was broken.
"Well fuck," Cym said, grabbing the bong in one hand and lighting the bowl with the other. And then getting a mouth full of bong water.
===================================================
Parry snapped to in the back of the van, pale as hell, probably weak from blood loss, with Rikive standing over him and four bullets extracted onto the floor.
"Aw, lovely! I missed you so much!" Parry leaned forward and tackled Rikive in a hug before planting a kiss on her cheek. "Gimme two seconds lovely, gotta take care of business, then we'll talk."
Parry the mage rolled to his side, reached into his diaper bag that was still hanging from one hip, and fished around for a few seconds. Cymriel's sword was the first thing that popped into his hand, on top of the pile of stuffed animals, toys, tech trinkets, doodads and diapers. So when Parry pulled the beaten iron longsword from the bag and sprouted a set of six wings with eyes glowing like the cores of Blue Giant stars, turned to Rikive, and put one hand on the van's back door, said "I smoked weed with Michael Jackson. And it. Was. AWESOME!" he didn't take time to gauge the reaction of the Norse demi-goddess and the pantsuit-wearing supernatural lawyer.
He just burst out of the van with a flaming sword, screaming "THRILLER TIME TO-NIGHT!" in a shriek and made a bee-line for the melee, swinging a sword that cut into vampire thralls like they were vegetables and vampires like they were mortal. | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,580 | 1,263 | 104 | 2,024 | 59 | Karram watched as Beth took the object from Flint's possession and began escorting their new vampire friend to the van nearby. Karram followed at a quick pace, keeping an eye out for any danger up ahead. But as usual, things never go as planned. Beth noticed before he did, but her expression caused Karram to look back. Flint was down and Tony was shot. Fucking fuck... Karram thought.
"Get them out of here!" Beth shouted at Karram. Karram noted Autumn heading that way as well. But he didn't hesitate. Wings spread again, he darted through the bastards in the club and landed near Flint and Tony just as Autumn reached them as well. He nodded at her as she grabbed them up. Karram slammed the ground, causing several root systems to split through the floor and ensnare two vampire attackers going after Autumn and her baggage. Karram backpedaled from there, covering Autumn's back as she ran towards the vehicles outside.
Of course that's when he witnessed a shining winged Parry slicing through thralls and vamps like butter screaming some nonsense about thriller...? Karram was happy he was okay and totally... well... un-surprised to see him acting in this fashion. | Name: Karram Sylian
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie)
Talents:
-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time.
-Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade.
-Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others.
-Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.)
-Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives.
-Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter.
History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own.
For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live.
Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past.
In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans).
But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees...
Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships.
Possessions:
-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic.
-Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family.
-Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon.
Yes, and:
Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued.
Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil.
(^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.) |
46,581 | 1,263 | 105 | 1,650 | 715 | His heart wasn't beating, he wasn't breathing anymore. Panic swept through her as she pressed her hands tighter against his chest over his heart after closing the bullet and bite wounds. She pushed her healing energy into his heart in pulses, similar to the defibrillator's human used to restart a heart. Come on, come on! She could sense that the damage to the tissue was being repaired, but his heart was silent.
Rikive swore in frustration when she heard Beth call out to her from outside of the van. Parael's heart still wasn't beating. Her other comrades needed her, but Parael...
Gritting her teeth and shutting her eyes tight, she slowly pulled her hands away. It was too late. She pressed her blood covered hand against her eyes, taking in a deep shuddering breath to try and pull herself together. There was still a battle raging, other's that were still alive needed her help.
She should have gone in after him right away...
"Aw, lovely! I missed you so much!" The sound of Parael's voice made her snap her head up, her pale green eyes wide when the slender man tackled her in a hug. She was completely stunned and speechless, she had been so sure that he was dead. Gone forever!
Relief and joy quickly replaced her surprise and she was about to hug Parael back when he pulled away from her. She watched him dig around in his diaper bag in confusion. As he pulled forth the iron sword and six wings emerged behind him, her mouth dropped open in shock.
Parael...had come out of retirement!?
Rikive stared up at him with wide eyes, the power radiating from him reminding her of her mother's people. She smiled before laughing at his departing words, more from sheer relief that he was alive and still the same as before. Except for, of course, the wings.
She picked up her own sword and sheath, following him out of the back of the van and looking at Beth with the vampire. It seemed like she had their new 'friend' under control. "Get her in the van, I'll help get the others." She said before heading back toward the club.
With Parael providing cover and a suitable distraction, Rikive located the downed Flint and Tony being dragged out by Autumn. Karram was also helping to cover her back with what few people were focusing on them as they retreated. She sheathed her sword and crouched down to pull one of Tony's arm's over her shoulder as he was the most obviously injured. She could help walk him out while healing him. She didn't know what was wrong with Flint.
She pressed one hand against Tony's bleeding back as she stood, using it to start healing him. The mist like magic flowed into his skin from her hand, spreading through his back and starting to push the buckshot out while healing the damage it caused. "Can you two carry Flint between you and get him to his car? Parael is providing us," She ducked when a head flew over hers. "Cover." | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,582 | 1,263 | 106 | 781 | 162 | Kaori felt a force hit her out of thin air. It was enough to knock her to the floor onto her back, her blade escaping her grasp. Her glowing eyes blinked, looking up at the face of a plain looking girl. Briefly, Kaori considered the multiple ways she could punish her for getting in her way: a bullet to the belly, the blade through the chest, or a bite to her unprotected neck. But the exchange that occurred in the next moments made her pause. They were discussing her kidnapping, she realized, as a taser changed hands. It didn't frighten or concern her as much as it confused her. From the scent of these three creatures - and the unmistakable stench of wild cat in the air - she could tell that this was little more than a rebel group of misplaced beings. But she couldn't fathom what logic would prompt them to attack a vampire coven with no real knowledge or organization, and then try to take one home. Idiocy.
The girl tried to pull Kaori to her feet. Like hell you're taking me anywhere... But she stood. Even she, a creature of chaos, could feel the turmoil around her getting out of hand. There was gunfire, and a seemingly continuous low rumble of growls and snarls. It wouldn't end, not when these attackers were so clearly outnumbered and unprepared, yet annoyingly persistent. It would be destruction, if not within, then when another group of Nemsemet's vampire subordinates caught word.
She needed to leave.
She allowed herself to be lead from the building by a pair of insignificant hands around her wrists. Not particularly strong, she noted. Yet, the girl handled her unnecessarily roughly, seeing as she hadn't made an effort to resist just yet. Kaori felt a sense of rage building, desperate to snap and tear her captor down. Wait, she reminded herself. Acting now would only invite the reciprocation of her whole party. Despite how capable she believed herself to be, it would be more difficult to escape multiples versus just one. Also, she had no way of knowing exactly what form of creatures accompanied her, or their strength.
She found herself pressed to a wall with the dinky device pressed against her abdomen. This seemed to be as far as the girl was going to take her for now. This would have to do. "Tony and Flint need rescuing! How soon can you get there?" the plain girl said. Kaori noted how her eyes never left her face. She couldn't help but spread her lips in an amused grin. Her face wasn't where the danger was.
"Hold her steady. I don't want to miss or this will hurt more than it needs to." Her eyes darted to the voice. That scent. A low rumble rolled in her chest. She knew that scent. She took a second, maybe two, to take in the closer view of what must have been a hunter. He didn't look strong, not particularly intimidating. Yet somehow, he had stolen her kill once. In a way, that made it more offensive.
She also caught the glint of a strange syringe in his hand. Not good. She didn't need to know what was in it to decide that she didn't want it in her body.
The girl had 'secured' the vampires wrists with her own hands. What happened next took place in seconds. Kaori took hold of the girls wrist which had been vulnerable just by being so close to her grasp. She tugged her forward with a sharp jerk, turning in the same movement to rotate and deliver a kick to the back of her knees. The force should be enough to knock the girl from her feet and send her crashing into the wall.
With a fling of a hand, she send a small blade slicing through the air towards the hunter with the syringe. It was well aimed, but she suspected he would find a way to dodge it.
Kaori was gone before she could find out. She took a few running strides down the sidewalk, and made a sharp turn into a shady looking ally way. From there, she lauched herself up, gripping the lower rungs of a fire-escape ladder. She climbed - or sprung - upwards until she hit the roof. She took off, her speed paying off as she hopped from one roof-top to the next, clearing about three before the attackers below should have a chance to respond. | Name: Kaori Lyle
Age: 42 (Appears Early 20’s)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire
Talents:
- Immortality
- Enhanced strength and agility
- Enhanced Senses
- Healing
- Experienced with firearms and blades
- Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes
History: During the Vietnam War, Kaori’s father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised.
In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family’s decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income.
In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of ‘work’ into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her ‘change’ into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles.
Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively.
Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence.
Psychological Profile: Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn’t exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn’t opposed to taking a life, she also doesn’t murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she’s always been a bit of a loner and doesn’t confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it’s unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty.
Possessions:
-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother
-A small arsenal of firearms
-Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia
Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent. |
46,583 | 1,263 | 107 | 1,650 | 715 | The hidden blade that flew at Gray's face was a bit of a surprise. He twisted to the side and deflected it by raising his right arm. It scratched at his armored forearm before clattering to the ground.
She was fast and strong, quickly breaking the hold Beth had on her and slipping away into the darkness. Leave it to the disembodied spirit to hold someone down! Catch her or subdue the would-be lord surrounded by his minions? Gray took the easier option. He didn't have time to retrieve his shotgun if he wanted to catch her which alone would be a tricky feat. Instead he picked up the gym bag that still lay close on the ground and started sprinting after her. It was a good thing he wasn't a particularly big guy because that would make running a lot harder.
Scaling the fire escape to follow her on the roof was not a feasible option. Plus it led right into any trap she could lay. Gray ran through the alleys below trying to head her off from the ground. This was unfamiliar terrain, he was disadvantaged but it would be better than trying to out-climb something as feral as a vampire. He slowed his pace in order to listen to the movements above. These buildings were thankfully only a few stories high so he could still hear footsteps as she ran atop the roofs. If she got any further away he might lose her. Good thing the block was about to end. Hope she can't leap fifty feet or this would be one hell of a chase. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,584 | 1,263 | 108 | 2,534 | 450 | The sword was fucking heavy. Much heavier than his own back at the (ruined) Daycare, so Parry's slices and dices among the vamps in the front lobby were much slower than he was used to. A Dawn Blade was a Dawn Blade to a Celestial, but they were unique snowflake weapons, made by the higher ups for each foot soldier. Plus this was Cymriel's sword, Cymriel's wings he was using. Kind of like borrowing your buddy's gun for the evening. If the police traced the serial number without looking at the prints, well, Cym would be up the Creek and Parry would be facing consequences for how he used it.
Ducking, weaving, and parrying was the name of the game then. The maitre'd vampire, Jean, took one look at Parry in the fight and booked it for the kitchen- and Parry let him go. When one of the higher vamps took a swipe at him, Parry went ahead and gave the guy a once-through the arm at the wrist. The vamp's hand dropped to the floor, but Parry didn't follow through, too busy making his way through the melee toward the head snake.
Billy Rikker was on his hands and knees near the back of the foyer, licking Celestial blood out of the carpet with some of his senior vamps.
This whole thing needed to end. Billy had a hundred Thralls and easily half as many pure-vamps in his service, but that number could be cut in half from the wounded and dead they'd piled up. Problem was, Parry knew Billy had more muscle than this and the group only got this far by surprise alone. They needed a bargaining chip to get out of this mess.
"Tony!" Parry yelled, pointing at the head Vamp with his free hand. Hopefully the were-Tiger would get the message over the melee. They needed a hostage to get out of here alive. Or an opportunity to cut the head off this snake. Billy had clout over a lot of the supernaturals in the East Side. A few shifter packs, a witch coven, even a minor fae court. They probably wouldn't throw in with Tony just because Billy was dead or captured, but they might reconsider their loyalties after their leashes were cut.
Parry, meanwhile, let Autumn and Gray (YUMMY!) book it for the vamp that had run out the front door. Parry was content to let them go for her, unfurling his wings fully to block the Entrance/Exit doors so the horde didn't follow them out into the streets. | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,585 | 1,263 | 109 | 2,377 | 482 | On instinct Beth flickered in and out of tangibility to avoid the swipe of a blade and in an attempt to seize hold of the vampire girl again. The first proved successful, but the girl managed to slip away before Beth could solidify her hand, and sped off down the street via the rooftops. Beth's hand slammed against the brick wall; she felt only an opposing force.
Her speed was nothing compared to a vampire, even one so young, and the farther she went from the club, the less she knew of her allies' fate. But with so many of them busy, and their mission still fruitless, she took chase alongside the hunter.
Unlike Gray, she knew the layout of this town so well she could draw a better map than Google if she wanted.
She dashed through alleys and office blocks, taking as many natural and supernatural shortcuts as she was privy to, until she caught sight of the vampire once again. The long line of buildings came short there; this was their best opportunity. Beth scanned the street around her for something useful and, finding only trash cans, garbage and broken pieces of glass, sent it all flying towards the vampire. The trash cans went first, a trail of garbage left in the air. She applied as much telekinetic force to the throw that she hoped it would knock the bitch off her feet.
The glass went next, and Beth aimed low. Vampires endured the worst but she only hoped to subdue the girl. "If you have anything useful in that bag of yours, now is the time!" she shouted across the alley to Gray. It would take the both of them, and perhaps another if anyone had bothered to follow them, to take and keep the vampire down. She spared him a brief look, and began to consider throwing him onto the roof.
The idea was too good to waste time debating. Beth manipulated the energies around Gray, picked him up of the ground as a means of warning him, before tossing him onto the roof in front of the vampire. It would be a rocky landing, but she got him there. | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,586 | 1,263 | 110 | 2,024 | 59 | Could any aspect of this mission go as planned? The thought made Karram's head ache like before. The winged angel version of Parael was flying around wielding god knows what kind of mystical blade, Flint and Tony were down for the count, and now the vampire hostage was on the run. Karram wanted to face-palm but felt it better to tag along with Beth and Gray as they pursued their desired target. The vampire was skilled and experienced. But Karram calculated that the three of them together would be enough to capture her, so long as no additional surprises sprang out of nowhere.
Karram watched as Beth manipulated trash cans and bottles and glass pieces, hurling them at the roof runner with great precision. Then she yelled at Gray and sent him flying onto a rooftop nearer to their target. "I'll back him up!" Karram spread his ethereal wings and zipped past Beth heading upward to assist Gray as he landed. By darting to the vampire's rear, he and Gray would have her flanked. As he flew, he drew his dagger and prepared to throw it to the side of the vamp's feet to hopefully halt her from changing course.
With that, he reached the target and aimed the dagger at her feet. He stopped on a dime, hovering a few feet back from her. Karram noted a nearby tree on the street corner at the end of the rooftop. Could be a useful tactic if she attempts to run again... he thought to himself before turning his attention back to the female vampire. His sword was drawn still and he wore a determined expression as he stared at her back.
"Why don't you stop running, okay?" Karram could see Gray was still holding onto the mystery bag of goodies. Hopefully something in there was strong enough to put their vampire friend here down for a bit. If not, Karram may have to delve into his repertoire of sleep-inducing magic and see if that works. | Name: Karram Sylian
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie)
Talents:
-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time.
-Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade.
-Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others.
-Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.)
-Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives.
-Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter.
History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own.
For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live.
Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past.
In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans).
But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees...
Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships.
Possessions:
-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic.
-Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family.
-Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon.
Yes, and:
Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued.
Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil.
(^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.) |
46,587 | 1,263 | 111 | 781 | 162 | Kaori had sprinted from rooftop to rooftop gracefully, like a bird soaring in the air. The darkly colored silk robe she wore trailed behind her in the night like a cape, its floral design catching the glint of moonlight every so often. She gained speed as she went, skipping and leaping over the gaps between buildings until she finally came to the end of the block. She stopped short of the ledge. Looking across the street to the next rooftop, she knew she was unlikely to make a jump that far. It would be foolish to attempt it, and would likely slow her down even more if she tumbled and broke a leg. It would heal, but she didn't have time to wait.
The sound of foot-steps and bated breath alerted her to the pursuit coming up behind her from below. Three pounding heartbeats, she counted. And again, the distinct scent of the hunter who had stolen her prey. Her own pulse pounded in her ears. Long, delicate fingers curled into fists at her sides as she considered the ways she might correct that wrong.
Within the medley of noise in her head, she experienced the unsettling feeling of one sound giving out. It was the same sort of sensation that occurred when one side of a pair of headphones stopped working. She refocused to realize that the running steps below had come to halt. Dammit. I have to keep moving. Just as she began to move towards the ledge, considering swinging down and finding an open window into the building, she caught movement in the corner of her eye.
Kaori swerved to the side instinctually, narrowly avoiding a trash can and a line of randomized junk that had come flying with it. Her eyes darted to the direction it had come from, catching the slightest glint of light on a number of small shards of glass slicing through the air. She hit the ground. Normally, she might try to deflect it, or outrun it. Glass wouldn't kill her. It would, however, permanently damage the robe that had belonged to her deceased mother. Kaori pressed her hand to the back of her head to protect her long hair as well. Her dark locks had suffered enough damage for the night. She felt the slightest pinch when one shard nicked the back of her hand as it sailed by.
She could hear yelling on the street below. She recognized the voice of the plain female, "If you have anything useful in that bag of yours, now is the time!" Kaori stood again, bracing herself for what was to come next. It was a surprise to see the hunter land before her.
"You," she hissed. It was difficult to say what Kaori actually felt concerning the hunter. It was an odd sense of predatory obsession. She was only absently aware of the sound of beating wings behind her. With each breath she took, she was reminded of the night she had first encountered the hunter. She had never forgotten that scent. It nearly pushed her to leap from where she stood to tackle him to the ground.
But she stayed still. They had her flanked. Her narrowed eyes - an unsettling contrast to the smooth femininity of her features - never left the face of the hunter. She studied him, as if she were trying to read a very dense book. "What do you want with me?" she finally asked. In the back of her mind, she contemplated the ways she might escape. Speed, and the nighttime shadow would be on her side. Yet, her curiosity over this brazen human kept her rooted. | Name: Kaori Lyle
Age: 42 (Appears Early 20’s)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire
Talents:
- Immortality
- Enhanced strength and agility
- Enhanced Senses
- Healing
- Experienced with firearms and blades
- Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes
History: During the Vietnam War, Kaori’s father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised.
In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family’s decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income.
In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of ‘work’ into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her ‘change’ into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles.
Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively.
Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence.
Psychological Profile: Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn’t exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn’t opposed to taking a life, she also doesn’t murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she’s always been a bit of a loner and doesn’t confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it’s unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty.
Possessions:
-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother
-A small arsenal of firearms
-Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia
Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent. |
46,588 | 1,263 | 112 | 1,650 | 715 | The feeling of euphoria that came from being lifted off the ground with absolutely no control over your destination was exquisite. Flying through the air after some trash was anything but graceful. He choked off a gasp as he was hurled to the roof of the building from street level. It was like falling in reverse and in this case Gray liked gravity to stay in one direction. He stumbled a landing in his quarry's path. "If you have anything useful in that bag of yours, now is the time!" Apparently this was Beth's idea. Well, better than chasing on the street until he got tired and she escaped. He'd have to explain in vivid details what he thought of being surprised like that though.
Gray's expression went from surprised to a wry smile like the guy at the poker table who just can't help how great his hand is. The gym bag was still clutched in his left hand and slightly unzipped, ready to pull something out of. The vampire's acute sense of smell would tell her that there was a hint of corrosive chemicals in there as well as some metal.
As Karram drew closer from behind he tried to talk her down from running. The vampiress seemed much more interested in Gray, like somehow she knew him and he'd offended her. So he responded to her in kind. "Look I have no idea how you know me but I will answer that question. Sorry to say this is not about you. It's all about your recent neighbor. Calls himself Nemsemet." He prepared to reach into the bag. A feat she more likely would notice as he continued. "We're not in an asking mood. Help us out by coming with us. If not you get to see what's in the bag." And she would get to meet Karram. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,589 | 1,263 | 113 | 2,356 | 5,042 | Time to go people! With the others having run off after the vampire that just left the rest picking up the pieces. As far as their goals were concerned there was no reason to stick around any longer. Hoisting Flint into the van she stole a glance toward the ruined club. Perry was destroying everything in his path, headed toward the gorging Billy. Eliminating him would help cause disarray among the vampires and even help their cause. Nemsemet wouldn't win everything. But this was just a battle, the war was yet to be settled.
Everyone seeming to be busy she took a chance and scooped a spider up from the ground. Whispering something to it she let it loose and ran around to the drivers side of the van. Starting her up Autumn slammed the door and stuck her head out the window. "Please be quick." Ready to go she reached back for her purse. What Gray had was not the only ones available. Sadly not everything she arranged had arrived yet. Since she assumed she would not be leaving anytime soon she had put plans in place to have supplies sent. Had she known more she would have planned for an army. | Name: Claudia Laurel
Age: 23 (Physically) 62 (In reality)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Half-Demon
Physical Description:
Talents:
-Using Firearms
-Hand to hand combat
-Stalking/Sneaking
-Controlling fire
-Parkour
-Faster Healing
History:
Claudia was born in 1953, into a prominent family of demons due to an affair between a demon woman and a human. Her family had wealth, power, and most important of all, reputation. Her birth was not wanted by the elders, seeing as her parents were both young, and the fact that Claudia was a half-demon, which were considered disgraces and looked down upon. Claudia's grandfather, Harriet Laurel, decided that Claudia and her father were to be executed. Claudia's mother didn't want this, and helped her daughter disappear, along with Claudia's father. They began a new life (on earth) in America as James Williams and his young daughter, Claudia Williams.
Two years later, Her father was drafted into the Vietnam war at the age of twenty. Claudia was sent to live with her aunt in Virginia, and spent the next twenty years staying there, waiting for her father to return. He never did. Her family was informed of his death, and Claudia received his possessions. In a trunk was a stack of letters, mostly love letters between her mother and father. After digging through the trunk and reading the old letters, she came upon addressed to her, from her parents. The letter told her all about her heritage and why she didn't have a mother with her.Claudia had hoped to get in touch with them, but was not able to enter their world and when summoned, they rejected her because she was a 'Halfling'.
Left with no where to go, she wandered until one she walked in on two people fighting. One pulled out a gun to shoot the other, and Claudia threw the nearest thing she could find at the man, which happened to her shoe. The man ran off not wanting to be seen, and the other, Tom, introduced himself. The two became quick friends, both having no where to go. They lived off the streets, and eventually joined a gang. The two became tangled in a web of crimes and violence, and Tom decide that they needed to learn to defend themselves. They became more active in the gang learning from the other members how to fight, and later how to kill. Claudia and Tom advanced from just people taken under their wing to some of the most able members.
Eventually the gang was busted, and Claudia escaped with Tom. They moved to New Camden, and decided to try to lay low. It didn't work out, as they were in desperate need of money, and Claudia ended up taking jobs which weren't quite legal. She eventually got arrested for vehicular manslaughter, of all things. She was sentenced to five years in prison. When she was let out on probation, she discovered that Tom had passed away. With nothing left, Claudia became a servant for a supernatural household in the court. When Nemsemet took over, her master was killed, along with his family. Claudia was given two choices. Join his side or die. She did what she thought every sane person would have done, and chose not to die. She needed the money anyway. She now works as a servant/hitman for Nemsemet, and though she may not like it, money always comes first. And her dog.
Psychological Profile:
Due to her history, Claudia is very pessimistic. She doesn't believe in the whole 'heart of gold' thing, and distrusts everyone around her. She doesn't like to show emotion, believing they are weaknesses. She believes that the court and the wealthy families in New Camden are all corrupt, but also thinks that Nemsemet is the same.
Claudia has two 'modes', in place of emotions. There's stoic and uncaring, and then theres angry. When taking out targets, she remains cold and collected, but her anger can be triggered easily; she is sensitive about her family, and will physically harm anyone who insults her parents. She is also angered by the social hierarchy of fullbloods and halfbloods. Although she is willing to kill in cold blood, she is not merciless. She prefers to take people out quickly and painlessly, and if you give her good reason not to do something, she'll listen to you. Although it's hard to get her to trust you, if she believes in your cause then she will remain loyal.
Possessions:
A silver ring, which hides her identity as a supernatural creature, given to her by her mother. Two handguns, Several knives, and a sniper rifle. Has extras at her 'home', which is actually an abandoned building. A large husky she adopted off the streets. The closest thing she's ever had to a familiar.
Yes, and:
Claudia met Karram when she was sent to court for vehicular manslaughter. He was one of the people who helped get her a shortened sentence. She has mixed feelings about him. On one hand, he shortened her punishment, on the other hand, he still sent her to prison.
Now though, they're going to meet under much different circumstances. Karram is one of the people she has been requested to kill, so thats awkward.
(I didn't really know what to do here ^, so it can be changed.) |
46,590 | 1,263 | 114 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Silver, in a werecreature, burned like hell. It took time to recover from getting hit by it even when the stuff came out. The disruption of the spirit as well as the physical effect of it lingered after it was pulled out, enough so that one didn't necessarily want to do much. That was why Tony found himself in a van healed but still very much cursing and sore after that. He'd spent much of his existence not getting hit with silver after that first exposure. Contrary to popular perception, and Flint's accusations, he'd managed to live a pretty sedate and quiet life as a werecreature after the Vietnam War, finding ways to channel himself in directions that didn't put him in the way of gunfire.
So much for the quiet days of living out in dignity, now his hometown, Camden, was blowing up and he was getting shot by vampires. He'd spent something like fifty or so years avoiding that precise situation, keeping the beast chained except for field trips out into the wild to hunt and expatiate the roaring predator that shared space with his humanity in a never-ending war for his body. Between the change and the wound he'd sustained -- and damn, that thing still burned, annoyingly -- he looked like a complete mess, which was appropriate wear for this party.
"She's right" he gasped, barely getting his head straight enough to process all the information, "It's time to get the fuck out. This place is about to be crawling now that we've kicked the hornet's nest." The idea of grabbing someone in the know to interrogate them was now out, and it seemed almost pointless to grab the vampire they were about to snap up. Almost. Once he and Autumn were close to the van.
"We gotta bring the van closer to the guys grabbing the vamp and start clearing out before the reinforcements show up. Someone's bound to have called for help with all this," he gestured at the mess of the Rusty Steak Knife, "going on. Some smart vamp probably called help."
Tony groaned a bit as he forced his arm to work and got the door opened, blasting him with the accumulated smell of the air fresheners, incense and other scents Tony had used to avoid being detected as a werecreature -- useless now.
There was an AK in the back of the van that he'd brought along with a consolidated ammo supply, but he left it there untouched for the moment, though he kept his eyes peeled as he crouched in the back, rubbing his shoulder as he took in the devastation.
"Well, so much for a minimal exposure plan that involved quietly grabbing someone for information."
--
"My Lord," he intoned, with that smooth bluegrass, whiskey country accent.
He had the mannerisms of the 19th century southern gentleman and the pedigree as well. It was authentic; sometime during the colonization of North America, a pair of poor Scotch-Irish immigrants, the Gordons, were finally freed of indentured servitude but lacked the resources to establish themselves further east. Due to a lack of funds upon emancipation from servitude in a Virginia plantation near Richmond, they had to find the cheapest, most dangerous frontier and carve themselves a new life from the wilderness of the new world, a pair that loved each other deeply and had the same dream -- a life away from the old world they'd been condemned in by birth. They managed to establish a homestead in Tanasi that prospered over the next century and a half. Angus and Tess were fine, upright folk that had a sense of decency, though it didn't necessarily survive them. They learned to live in harmony as neighbors with the natives they found in the area, for they'd been of modest needs and took little from the land, but subsequent generations of Gordons, starting with their son Joshua, found cause to look down upon their neighbors and drive them out, to covet more land as their farming and horse breeding business flourished, and that streak of ruthlessness was inherited by in Charles Niall "Neal" Gordon. A historian might well say the potential was there in him and was refined during service under no less than William Tecumseh Sherman during the Civil War, because like a number of Tennesseans, he remained loyal to the Union, despite owning some slaves, and learned well the lessons of that bloody era of strife.
He remained in the Cavalry and served in the West after the war, where his uncompromising view of the situation matched that of the men who burned Georgia and the South down in that terrible, destructive march, and his methods were among those adapted by the white men who wished to tame the 'menace' of the people that inhabited the land well before they'd ever seen it -- to cut off their food supply, to dwindle the resources with which they could use to survive, to sap their will to continue the war by bringing them psychological distress. Sherman's lesson -- War is Hell. Sherman once asked Gordon, who'd been an aide of his at one point, what to do about the Indians. He told him, "Kill buffalo."
Sherman later was heard saying that to end the problem, send ten regiments and shoot bison. (He had, needless to say, watched the application of Sherman's methods by airpower, in the 1940's, with particular interest -- he was an avid admirer of Arthur "Bomber" Harris and Curtis LeMay.)
Sometime in the 1870's, after the whole thing was essentially settled, though Custer had gone and gotten himself killed, Major Charles Gordon found himself under the fangs of a simply enchanting woman who found him equally intriguing -- the whiff of blood, the dangerous but debonair mannerisms of the man, the far-seeing, hard eyes that caught and held what they gazed upon. He was already a predator of men, a killer, and that was much to her taste; dashing in the ballroom and uncompromising as a warrior. There was always a use for dangerous minds in the world of vampires, and he'd been useful in subjugating wild supernaturals as he'd been in subjugating wild humans until the work ran out and North America was finally domesticated, mere policework of the sort that others did for the courts, running after wayward individuals, seemed tedious -- he loved more than merely a little action, he relished a war, a contest of wills, the breaking of the opponent. There simply wasn't enough of that to go around and decades went by with very few unruly supernatural populations to suppress, and so much of it was handled through delicate negotiation that made his particular services unwanted. As a servant of the Court, he found little satisfaction in the diplomacy forced upon him -- as the Court started to recognize the autonomy of native populations at the behest of their local supernaturals, who formed Courts and stabilized the post-colonial situation, he resigned from active service in the 1950's.
He still wore a gentleman's mustache and a Vandyke beard, because he'd never quite been able to bring himself to go clean-shaven even in the eras that demanded it, and it seemed that of late the fashion was respectable, though he'd let his hair be trimmed in tune with the human fashions of the day, and he'd given up a gentleman's frock coat for a properly tailored suit done on Savile Row; dark gray, with a window-paned shirt beneath it and a sufficiently floral tie and a complementing pocket square. He looked dapper and little like the blood soaked killer of the Plains Indian Wars that he truly was; likewise, there was a Colt Single Action Army holstered beneath the jacket, because he never quite managed to shed the liking of the gun he'd killed so many braves, their wives and their children with. It wasn't one of the originals, because those took black powder and modern metallurgy and manufacturing was so much better -- trained as an Engineer at West Point, he'd prided himself on maintaining a surprising interest in science that exceeded that of most of his vampire kin. Of course, as he'd point out, most vampires were little more than someone's fucktoy made immortal. He held himself aloof from their sordid little games of running bordellos and gambling houses and nightclubs; he did a respectable business in stocks and bonds, though he considered playing the markets to be little more than a fun gentleman's game that also sustained his quiet penthouse lifestyle that he'd adopted from the Gilded Age, onward, converting the family farm into capital.
The petty little squabbles of the supernatural world bore him, so he stayed out, though in his time he'd made his necessary respects to the court of de Lacy and actually made himself useful as a sort of emissary -- he had a proud and aristocratic bearing that de Lacy had favored, even while dismissing any advice he had to give. Nemsemet, however, had learned of Major Gordon's unique history and seemed genuinely interested in his thoughts; this was not the first time he'd been called to the Elder One's presence and asked for his opinion on a matter.
"I find myself displeased with Billy Rikker. He did not manage to destroy the few enemies I had and he has also taken too much time uniting his own kind." Nemsemet intoned, with a dusty rasp of a voice.
The truth was, it disturbed Charles to even look at Nemsemet, and that was with the old mummy clothed in a voluminous robe that concealed much, and even with a forged metal mask over the face -- nothing in the city had ever seen Nemsemet's face, except for perhaps that fool de Lacy when Nemsemet first rose from the grave dust and destroyed so many of the Court in that first furious assault. No one even knew what happened because, quite frankly, there were no survivors. The old mummy didn't move much; no breathing, no twitches, just unnatural stillness. But the presence filled the room, oppressively so. de Lacy's old receiving chamber had been redecorated in a 'less is more' motif with the banners and historical artifacts removed. The throne remained, but the room was bare stone and lamplight now, for Nemsemet sufficed as impressive in his own right, a figure of dread awe, even simply seated there, deeply within his? its? robes; a simple white linen affair lined with blue, but dark and shadowy nonetheless. It was jarring to note that Nemsemet sat with a leg crossed over another, with a hand disappearing into the cowl of the robe, perhaps propping up his chin. One just didn't associate such incongruously casual body language to such a terrifying thing.
"I understand my Lord, and while it is perhaps a touch untactful to say so, I also felt at the time that it was insufficient merely to 'send a warning' in the form of destroying one house and then backing off. Our friend Billy waited a bit for more to gather there after Augustus' little raid instead of being in a lather to impress you with precipitous action, he might well have been able to actually set up a much better trap and actually kill them rather than let most of them leave through the back door. That would have rooted it out from the outset, but he was impatient."
Rooting it out was what Charles liked to do best. "And if I might be so bold as to state, I do not think Billy is prepared to actually wage a war. I understand the negotiations go slowly to get more vampires in the field primarily because he is trying organize it under his control, rather than merely delivering your terms. I do not, of course, blame him for trying to profit from the situation, but I am afraid that his interests are at a detriment to your own at this moment. Billy Rikker did well within the scope of his experience as a gangster," that was delivered with faint scorn, "But warfare takes more than merely on the spot cunning and an eye for personal opportunity, particularly if pursuit of that opportunity endangers the long term goal." That was delivered with the fine diction that was drilled into him in the 19th century boarding school he'd been forced to attend. He could have had it in Latin if Nemsemet preferred, or even Crow, Cree and Lakota were Nemsemet himself able to speak in those languages, for he was a well-educated man and proud of that in this profoundly anti-intellectual era and a natural linguist in an era where rednecks shouted, "Speak Amurikin, galldurnit!"
But what he was really saying was that Billy Rikker was a gutter punk that had no idea what he was doing, because Charles Gordon was not necessarily a subtle man by nature, but he certainly knew how to get a point across without being so crass as to spell it out.
He always thought Rikker was an upstart and it galled him to watch the little guttersnipe rise the way he did, putting on airs. He did well when de Lacy was ruling, but the times had changed and, to Charles' delight, Billy turned out to be unable to adapt to the current situation. By contrast, the new situation excited Charles.
Charles Gordon was a vampire supremacist, unabashed; a twisted interpretation of Darwin's survival of the fittest had always fueled his unsentimental approach to burning hapless civilians out of their cities and hapless natives out of the lands of their ancestors, and he was similarly unbothered with the plight of the average human. A lifetime and then a death spent making prey of others while not particularly worrying about mundane and ungentlemanly things like turning a profit had put him at disadvantage in the world he'd gambled and fought his way through. De Lacy found little use for a man of his talents, and other vampires viewed him as a crazed misanthrope, not one taken seriously in the scheme of the petty politics of the city's vampire. Nemsemet...well, that was different. The old mummy gave him something no one had given Charles Gordon in a long time; a war.
He'd cheered Cecil Rhodes' mercenaries as they subdued spear-wielding natives with Maxim guns in the name of civilization, watched Foch and Haig drive their mass armies of conscripts into the teeth of the German trenches, laughed at Mussolini's invasions of Libya, Ethiopia and Greece, thought that Hitler needed to leave the actual fighting in the hands of a capable staff of bred-for-war Prussian gentlemen, applauded Patton's drive through France with a sense of relish, banged his hand on a desk, breaking it, when he heard news of MacArthur's relief in Korea (and agreed with the sentiment that nuking the Red Chinese was something to hurry up and do now, before they were nuclear capable themselves) and tut-tutted the deplorable mess of the Vietnam War and all the other post-colonial conflicts where the men fighting the savages in the name of civilization missed the point -- and while the feckless press seemed inclined to help put the Amins, the Mugabes and the Ayatollahs in power, people that retarded the march of progress. In Gordon's world, the best way to make a better system was to put aside any lingering sentimentality and, like the engineer he was, create an efficient system that didn't burden itself with petty tribal, or humane for that matter, concerns.
So too with how vampires interacted with society.
"How would you do it, Major?"
"You mean how would I pick up the pieces, my Lord?"
"Yes. Billy Rikker has proven to be a liability."
Major Charles Niall Gordon told Nemsemet. | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,591 | 1,263 | 115 | 2,534 | 450 | A Dawn Blade, a weapon forged in the heart of a dying star when the universe was still young, was anathema to vampires. Science would have one believe that they had a severe allergic reaction to UV Radiation. Superstition, that they were so wicked that they could not walk in the presence of the sun without suffering divine wrath.
Whichever was true was irrelevant. A Dawn Blade was coated with UV rays by the process of its creation, and while it had no particular effect on the souls of wicked mortals (only having true supernatural power against Demons) it was really, really fucking sharp. So as Parry cut, dodged and slashed through the crowds of bodies trying to get past his wings and after Tony he had that scene from Kill Bill stuck in his head- the one where The Bride fought the Crazy 88s. Except there were thirty people here and most of them were already in rough shape from the fight to begin with.
A head here, an arm and leg there, and Parry found himself with a straight corridor to Billy Rikker, licking blood out of the carpet while his thralls and vampires started to think twice about losing an arm or two to the guy with wings and glowing eyes.
'Oh shit,' they were probably thinking. 'That's not a wizard...'
So Parry didn't press his luck with the group. He started to lower his sword into a defensive posture and started to take one step toward the prone Vampire lord when he heard the slam of a car door behind him. Tony. Rikive. Flint.
The van.
The whole group was on its last legs because of his fuckup. Yeah, he'd gotten some information from Billy about who Nemsemet wanted but it wasn't worth this mess. He had some work to do in order to make this up to everyone. Decapitating Billy Rikker would take seconds, would render this whole part of the city leaderless, and might open up the opportunity for rebellion. But the sword in his hands wasn't Parry's. It was Cym's. And Cym would be held responsible for how Parry used it. Execution wasn't one thing he wanted to see Cym answer for and would leave the van vulnerable to attack from the vampire brood.
So he might as well start his recompense now.
"Right. You all know what I am," Parry said, backing away, wings still spread to block the doors. "You probably don't know that I can make a small sun in one hand. But I really don't feel like killing everyone in this room right now. So. We'll call it a draw."
Without wasting a breath to see if the vampires pursued or stayed put with their master, Parry ducked and ran out the front doors, his wings retracting into so many ribbons of light, then shrinking into his back. He spared half a second to swipe the dawn blade at the overhanging awning outside the doors, bringing the fabric down to provide a temporary barricade to block line of sight on the van between the restaurant and his getaway vehicle.
Parry ducked into the van's side door, slammed it shut, and said in an innocent and awkward voice, like a kid hiding a new puppy (or in his case, wings, a sword, and a pair of smoldering white eyes) behind his back "So, uhm, what'd I miss? 'cause I got to smoke some primo-weed with the White Rabbit and Michael Jackson!" | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,592 | 1,263 | 116 | 2,246 | 3,527 | Flint began to awake, the ground below him felt like it was shaking and his head was pounding. Oh wait, it was moving, he was in the back of the van, and his head was slamming every so often against the hard metal sides. Groggily, he began to rise from his slumped position. “That’s what you get for using your powers too much” He thought to himself as he began to piece together what had happened. He was bellowing flames, then he went to go help Tony. Then… he couldn’t remember after that.
He focused his eyes and noticed Parry, being hugged by Rikive, and remembered what had happened before he had entered the building. It was as if his tiredness had melted away, his mind cleared and he stood up. He felt refreshed and energised as he looked towards parry.
“Hey Parael”. He said cheerily, to get his attention. When he turned, Flint’s fist crunched hard into the celestials face. Parry would know that they were even now, and so Flint sat back down, removing his large jacket. Sweat stained his white shirt and the shoulder holster was visibly empty. He must have dropped his hand-cannon when he passed out and this made Flint even more infuriated. He unbuttoned his shirt to inspect the bruises and cuts covering his chest and sides. Nothing too damaging, but enough to sting when he inhaled. Flint patted for his whiskey bottle, but remembered he had smashed it onto the floor before unloading his tommy-gun into the club. This just wasn’t Flint’s day. | Name: Flint White
Age: 125 (looks mid 20's)
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Elemental Sorcerer.
Talents:
Firearms training
Elemental magic (Controlling and conjuring of earth, fire, water, air)
Police Procedure
Detective work
Hand to Hand combat
Interrogation
Quick witted
History:
Flint was born in 1895, he led a normal life in Camden until he was conscripted into World War One. After the war, life didn't seem as precious anymore and he joined with a local mob boss. The gang told him of his magical abilities, which he had no idea he had, and began having him work for them in robberies.
His shenanigans caught the attention of the magical courts. They soon captured him and they explained the world that sat under his nose, they explained that it was magic that kept him young, that his parents had died horribly to an unknown attack. Flint was lost, and not knowing what to do he left Camden just in time for Conscription to scoop him up for World War Two.
More war and Flint was on his last thread, he returned to Camden and began Private investigation, it was ok work and helped pay for the taxes. Flint got his big break when the Court asked for him to join their police force, he accepted and soon rose the ranks to detective. Magical police work was a lot more intriguing than normal private work, and he was good at it.
Then it all went to hell.
Flint survived the first purges, but has been in hiding for awhile now. However he has begun to raise an army. A poster here, a leaflet there all signifying a meet up of those who wish to stop the current 'leader'.
Psychological Profile:
Harsh, Quick witted, scheming and cold hearted. Flint was normally one to work alone, but the new order of things means he will have to begin working with others if they are going to stop the main threat. He wont take orders from anyone, but he isn't an idiot, and can be persuaded to do things if its for the best.
He is a long standing alcoholic, and it is rare to see him without a bottle on his person, many believe his way of work is inhumane, and he prefers to act first before asking questions.
More than likely not all there in his head, due to the terrible things he has seen in and out of war.
Possessions:
.44 Magnum revolver in shoulder holster.
An array of legal and illegal weapons he keeps at his current safe house, most are pre 1950's however.
Smudge, the cat.
Yes and
Flint knew about Beth through her criminal connections, and was on her tail at every corner until she spoilt all the fun and died.
When she was placed in the court he wasn't pleased, not just because of her past crimes but also because of the moral grounds on controlling others. |
46,593 | 1,263 | 117 | 2,534 | 450 | Of all the people in the van who could berate him for what he'd done, Parry found himself flinching more and more with every word Rikive shouted at him. Like a kicked puppy, his smoldering eyes were cast down to the floor of the vehicle, losing their ambient glow until they returned to Parry's natural baby blue color, and even then were positively dejected.
Parry was ready for Tony, Flint, Autumn, everyone to name him a liability and cast him out as a pariah for what he'd done, but losing Rikive's friendship would hurt him the absolute most of all.
So when Rikive squeezed Parry in an almost tackle-hug, he breathed in a sigh of relief and his own breath caught in his throat. So he just hugged her back as hard as he could, one hand patting her own shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Parry said, squeezing hard. "I'm really, really sorry hon. I found some stuff out but it wasn't worth putting you all in danger."
“Hey Parael”.
Parry released Rikive just long enough to turn toward Flint, his eyes brightening once again as he saw the perpetually well-dressed-for-a-bygone-era detective wizard.
"Hey Flint!"
CRUNCH!
-------------------------------------
Billy Rikker's feeding frenzy was interrupted by the loudest, shrillest, most ear splitting noise he had ever heard in his century of living.
It reminded him of the shrieking a spoiled toddler would make when denied the flashiest, prettiest, most expensive toy in the toy store and goddammit, she was gonna get that toy if it meant she would have to make a scene that would shame her parents for all eternity.
So while the noise successfully broke the trance the close circle of vampires had been in while lapping the blood from the carpet, their super senses were picking up the sound as nails-on-a-chalkboard centimeters from where they stood. Suddenly his whole surviving clan was on the floor, clawing at their ears to get the noise to stop while up and down the street, car alarms for Mercedes, Lincolns, Bugattis and other half-million dollar vehicles activated their anti-theft mechanisms.
-------------------------------------
Parry was knocked flat on his ass by Flint's punch, his nose once again collapsed. But he could absolutely feel that it was not where it was supposed to be, and Rikive, even if she were so inclined, wouldn't be able to heal him for a while after pulling both Parry and Flint back from the brink in such a short period of time.
Parry had seen toddlers melt down from having scraped knees and other boo-boos. So he was emulating the best as he cried like a baby over his precious nose, the tires of the van squeeling away as they shot off to find Gray and Beth, Parry the Angel, slayer of Demons, protector of the innocent, semi-immortal warrior and self-professed hedonist kicked and screamed, holding his face, and only barely resisted the urge to say 'MOMMY! HE HIT ME!' | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
46,594 | 1,263 | 118 | 781 | 162 | We're not in an asking mood... She was enraged, and yet she almost had to laugh. Don't I feel like a lady.
She was completely engaged with the hunter. "Do you honestly believe I would willingly help you against Nemsemet?" She gave an unbelieving shake of her head. Even as she glared at him, her wine-colored eyes carried warm undertones. As if it were the only part of her being that might still be human. Her icy tone was a stark contrast. Each word felt like a bite at the air, "You're incredibly foolish, human. You assault my people, and then you invite me to my own death." She paused, her head tilting as her eyes dipped low for a brief moment, judging his profile. "You don't even know what you're asking," she dismissively stated.
And you didn't even say 'please.'
Vaguely, she was aware of the presence behind her. She wasn't quite sure the nature of being he was, but she had surprise on her side. This hunter - human - would never be able to match her speed quickly enough to defend himself in a significant way. It was unlikely that she was going to get out of here unscathed, but she might as well enjoy the fight. After all, she was a creature of violence, and she didn't like his attitude.
Seconds after the last word left her lips, she kicked off of the rooftop. She sprung from her place so quickly, it was almost a blur. Her body collided with the hunter. All of the concentrated - and complicated - fury she felt towards him exploded from her as she tackled him to the ground with a animalistic snarl. Her attack wasn't coordinated or thought through like her actions of evasion had been. This was purely instinctual. Now that she was close, so close she feel his pulse through his flesh, his scent was intoxicating. It made her lightheaded, but it didn't matter, because she didn't plan to resist the urge to part her lips and bury her teeth into the flesh around his shoulder. With a final draw of his aroma, she did just that, piercing the skin in search of crimson heat. | Name: Kaori Lyle
Age: 42 (Appears Early 20’s)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire
Talents:
- Immortality
- Enhanced strength and agility
- Enhanced Senses
- Healing
- Experienced with firearms and blades
- Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes
History: During the Vietnam War, Kaori’s father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised.
In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family’s decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income.
In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of ‘work’ into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her ‘change’ into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles.
Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively.
Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence.
Psychological Profile: Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn’t exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn’t opposed to taking a life, she also doesn’t murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she’s always been a bit of a loner and doesn’t confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it’s unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty.
Possessions:
-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother
-A small arsenal of firearms
-Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia
Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent. |
46,595 | 1,263 | 119 | 1,650 | 715 | The vampiress had lunged with such speed and ferocity that it was too fast for him to react. She grabbed hold of him and the two tumbled across the roof until she had him pinned. He had lost hold of the bag as they rolled, some of the contents spilling onto the roof. Visible was a long metal spike, a metal bat still half-concealed by the bag, and an aerosol can.
A set of fangs pricked his shoulder. It would have been more painful if he weren't already full of adrenaline. Gray moved his left hand quickly to draw the syringe from its place in his front pocket while drawing a Glock with his right, the same arm she was now drinking his lifeblood from. She in her fury smacked the syringe from his hand, pinned his arm and continued to draw from him. It clattered to the side. With his handgun he started to unload the magazine into her abdomen while using the painful opportunity to shove her off of him. Her teeth tore a chunk from his shoulder. She definitely looked more the monster now. He rolled to side to the closest equipment - the bag. What he grabbed was the metal spike. Sure, special wood could kill a vampire. He didn't want to kill her though. He wanted to paralyze her and if the syringe wouldn't work then filling her heart with some cold metal would. If this didn't work he may have to behead her and abandon the information before she leeched more of his life away. | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,596 | 1,263 | 120 | 2,024 | 59 | Karram was surprised to see the vampire lunge for Gray, and even more so that the attempt succeeded in bringing him down. The syringe toppled from his hand along with the bag, but he was all too quick to act. Karram heard several shots fire from within the scuffle before he even had the chance to move. Then, as Karram ran closer grabbing up his dagger, he noticed Gray push her off and grab a metal spike from the bag. Karram rushed over, throwing his dagger accurately into her left thigh before rolling to swiftly pick up the syringe. Sheathing his blade, Karram switched his approach and simply attempted to kick their vampire friend square in the face, with the intention of allowing Gray the opportunity to strike in which Karram could deliver the decisive blow: the concoction contained in the syringe, whatever it may be. Seamless timing would be required, for the vampire's reflexes were definitely faster than theirs. And as usual with this group, the pair didn't really have a well-thought-out plan; but rather a stream of quick glances to signal the conjoined attack.
Kick. Metal spike. Syringe. Sleep magic. Detain.
And so, Karram and Gray executed their respective moves and hoped for the best. Karram used one hand to deliver the syringe to her arm and the other to gently touch her forehead while mouthing his faerie incantation of sleep. Then he quickly backed off and watched in anticipation for things to kick in, all the while placing a hand on the hilt of Oakbane. If the strange concoction wasn't enough to bring her down for the trip back to the bunker, then Karram's magical touch should act as the final component in finally knocking her out. His magic was not as powerful as some of his more experienced relatives, but it still packed a punch. This has got to work, he thought. | Name: Karram Sylian
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Seelie Sidhe (Faerie)
Talents:
-Flight: The ability to fly with proficient maneuverability for a long duration of time.
-Nature Magic: The ability to manipulate nature in various ways such as entangling creatures with branches or roots, concealing himself within the earth, or harnessing energy from plant life to strengthen his blade.
-Illusory Manipulation: Can use Illusion Magic to disguise himself or create minor sensory illusions against others.
-Sleep Inducing Magic: The ability to induce a narcoleptic state of sleep in targeted creatures. (Related: Karram also has the innate ability to create illusions or send messages to sentient beings in their dreams.)
-Empathy: The ability to perceive people's emotions and motives.
-Sword-fighting: He is a trained swordfighter.
History:The Sylian branch family is renowned in the faerie community of Ireland. For centuries they have served as judges in the Seelie Court, with the primary responsibility of doling out punishment for faeries who have committed crimes against the mortals or faerie brethren. Karram Sylian's family was different however. He was the unfortunate product of an unlawful relationship between a Seelie faerie and an Unseelie faerie. His father was pronounced a traitor to the community and both he and his forbidden lover were executed. Karram Sylian was to be banished from the Seelie Court and sent to the Ashen Pit where Unseelie miscreants lived. However his father's brother, Eromyr, was able to convince the council to spare the infant faerie and grant him 20 years of life to prove his usefulness to the community. The council gave in and allowed Eromyr to adopt Karram and teach him as his own.
For the next 15 years Karram grew up learning the ways of the Seelie Court, faerie magic, and other resourceful trades. He never learned about his past or birth parents until his 16th birthday. Eromyr sat him down and explained the scenario that lead to his birth. Astonished and heartbroken, Karram spent the next few weeks lazing in a deep depression. But eventually he came to his senses and decided his life's work would be to amend his family's honor and eventually become Seelie Grandmaster. On his 20th birthday Karram was brought before the council of elders and rigorously tested. His incredibly honed skills and vast faerie knowledge surprised the council, and so they let him live.
Five years later Karram was appointed as a Seelie Adviser, the same position his uncle Eromyr held. He and Eromyr were sent with several others to the United States to set up a new branch of the Seelie Court within the supernatural communities that exist there. Karram was especially excited to travel to a new place where he could make a name for himself without the past haunting his every move. For the last 31 years, Karram has served as an adviser in the courts. He is known for his ability to detect the emotions and motives of defendants as well as his overall intelligence and loyalty; even receiving a few nods from Count Caradoc in the past.
In the human world, Karram originally disguised himself as a young and ambitious David Rodgers. He took up a job as an attorney and excelled in the position for just over 20 years. However he was commanded by the courts to change both his disguise and persona due to skepticism in his office over his apparent lack of aging. So he adopted the name Karl Silverman and has since been working for the IRS at the request of the courts (presumably so he could look into some of the supernaturals who mingle with with the humans).
But now everything has changed. The resurrection of Nemsemet and the slaughter of the Count and his high council has caused chaos in the supernatural world, and the last thing Karram wants is for that chaos to spill into the mortal world. Because if it does, it could bring the whole world to its knees...
Psychological Profile:Karram is unlike most faeries in many ways. Determined and courageous, Karram is always looking to prove himself useful to his community; and to himself. He hides his insecurities and depression by focusing entirely on work, and so he could easily be seen as a workaholic. He finds the usual rambunctious and mischievous nature of his fellow faeries to be immature; whereas he tends to focus on more serious matters. However he does share a deep distrust for Unseelie Sidhe due to his interactions with them in the courts as well as the indoctrination he experienced living with the Seelie Sidhe community in Ireland. Outside of combat or work, Karram is relatively quiet and often becomes entranced in his own thoughts. He also has trouble turning off his professionalism considering he doesn't harbor many actual friendships.
Possessions:
-Oakbane, a custom blade enchanted with earthen magic.
-Sylian Pendant, a necklace worn by members of the Sylian Branch Family.
-Faerie Dagger, a small dagger he keeps sheathed on his lower back as a secondary/defensive weapon.
Yes, and:
Karram was one of the presiding advisers during Antonio's preliminary hearing, where he briefly met Flint as well. He was the one that suggested his innocence after reading his emotions in the courtroom. Although initially ignored, Antonio was proven innocent anyway after the murders continued.
Flash forward several decades later, Karram, under his human guise of Karl Silverman, was asked by the IRS to audit the Horizon Foundation before their annual licensing renewal. It was apparent from the start that despite his disguise Antonio knew who he was, more than likely by scent. It was a moderately uncomfortable confrontation but nonetheless remained civil.
(^Can be amended or changed entirely if you don't think it fits.) |
46,597 | 1,263 | 121 | 2,377 | 482 | Damn them all. Damn every last one of their merry band of revolutionaries. If Parael wasn't already getting a piece of someone's mind, Beth would be sure to deliver it herself. Hell, she might still do it. If everyone had kept to the original plan, the plan they had spent time and energy working out in the midst of dealing with whoever the hell that Autumn woman was and her lapdog, they'd be interrogating this vampire chick. Perhaps even getting somewhere on the Nemsemet front.
What sort of threat did this pose to an ancient dread mummy?
Instead, Beth stood in a pile of garbage waiting for Karram and the fucking hunter to subdue the aforementioned vampire chick. At least they wouldn't be leaving empty-handed, so long as the boys did their jobs. Beth'd be damned too if she let them go back to the bunker with nothing to show for it.
She relied on the clatter of steel and empty thuds to tell her they were still fighting up on the roof. With what shreds remained of her faith in people -- and that came from little itself -- she entrusted them with the task and bolted out of the alley. She ran across the street to the nearest car, a second-hand sort of deal, no one would miss it. Should Gray and Karram succeed in abducting the vampire, the van would be far too crowded, and waiting for the others slowed them down further.
Beth sifted through the side of the car and resumed a solid state. Back when she had a body of her own, she wired enough cars to know exactly what she to do when she took apart the steering column. She considered jacking Flint's car once, shortly after she heard a cop started digging into her affairs, and only hours before all the dying nonsense.
In a few minutes she had the beat up car running and pulled it into the alley. She shouted up to the roof, "Get a move on!" | Name: Rikive Heimdalsdóttir
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity
Physical Description:
Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic
History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.
When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn’t the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.
One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.
That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.
A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn’t right.
Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.
Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
- Sheath transforms into a viking round shield
Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center. |
46,598 | 1,263 | 122 | 781 | 162 | Sinking her teeth into the soft tissue of the hunters shoulder was like extending a muscle after sitting still for too long. It was a natural movement, and immensely satisfying.
The taste of warm blood on her lips, fresh from the flesh, made her body quiver. Everything about it - the thickness of the fluid, the warmth, the rich flavor - filled her with euphoria. Her veins ached for it as the taste rolled down the back of her tongue and into her throat. It had been too long, and each time she fed felt that way. She was in constant need, and the brief moments of satisfaction were as electric as intimacy to mortals. Her fingers coiled around the fabric of the hunters shirt. She clung to him as if he were a being endeared to her. A potentially terrifying encounter for him was a strangely intimate and spiritual ritual for a vampire.
She was distracted from her bliss when he shifted beneath her. As a mortal, he was terribly slow in her eyes. With split focus, she half-heartedly swatted the needle from his hand as if it were nothing more than a pesky fly. She was too busy with the task at hand to give it much though, too preoccupied with-
BOOM.
The sound of thunder tore through her mind. The force of it hit her core like a battering ram. It wasn't the first time she had been shot, but it wasn't the sort of thing you ever got used to. She recoiled instinctively, finding herself shoved off of her meal. In her delirium, it took the pain a moment to overtake the ecstasy of the feed. When it did, it came sharply, cutting through her joy like a sharpened blade.
She gave a pained and furious cry, her lips and belly dripping with crimson. The gunshot seemed to pop-off a thousand different strikes, attacks suddenly coming from all sides. She sloppily jerked away from an oncoming dagger. It clattered uselessly across the ground. Shakily, she struggled to drag herself to her hands and feet, but abandoned the task to lift her hands to deflect the swift kick that nearly connected with her blood-stained face.
She wasn't fast enough to avoid the metal spike.
It pierced through her and into her heart, tearing a hole in her shirt and her body. She inhaled a harsh gasp. The pain was so sharp, she didn't notice the prick of her skin when the syringe was injected. She only distantly heard the mumble of strange words, and felt the weight of sleep descend upon her. Her tense, trembling limbs began to soften. Within moments, her bloodied body went limp as her eyes fell shut. | Name: Kaori Lyle
Age: 42 (Appears Early 20’s)
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Vampire
Talents:
- Immortality
- Enhanced strength and agility
- Enhanced Senses
- Healing
- Experienced with firearms and blades
- Vulnerabilities: fire, sunlight, decapitation, and stakes
History: During the Vietnam War, Kaori’s father (American) met her mother while deployed. As the war came to an end, the two were married. He moved his new wife back to the United States where Kaori would be born and raised.
In the aftershock of the war, Kaori and her mother suffered mild discrimination. However, it was the emotional trauma suffered by her father that began the family’s decent into poverty. To cope with his PTSD, her father became heavily dependent on alcohol and struggled to provide for his family. Although her mother tried, the stigma surrounding her heritage and her own ignorance of American ways made it very difficult for her to earn any type of substantial income.
In her teenage years, Kaori turned to illegal activity to help her family survive. She began in petty theft, and eventually branched out to drug distribution. She continued this line of ‘work’ into her early adult years, until one risky deal went poorly and nearly cost Kaori her life and lead to her ‘change’ into vampirism by a being with a similar heritage to her own. While the first year of her vampirism was difficult, her mentor provided guidance to help Kaori to use her new talents to enhance her old life. She quickly sharpened her skills, and became a sought after ally in criminal circles.
Her talents earned her enough money to support her parents until their eventual death, after which she relocated and eventually settled in New Camden. She now occupies an elegant loft apartment and loans her skills to the highest bidder. Although she has done jobs for members of the council, she did not work for them exclusively.
Over the years, she has had few valuable relationships and friendships as they typically end poorly or in violence.
Psychological Profile: Due to the nature of her work, Kaori doesn’t exactly hold to any strong morals. However, she has common sense enough to think carefully through her actions so as not to compromise herself or the supernatural community. While she isn’t opposed to taking a life, she also doesn’t murder recklessly as she resents the notion of being little more than an animal. Because she came to the country feeling like an outsider, she’s always been a bit of a loner and doesn’t confide much in other people. A very deeply buried part of herself aches over her constant loneliness, but it’s unlikely that anyone would ever get close enough to her to discover this weakness. Also, Kaori has grown to admire fine things and detests the notion of poverty.
Possessions:
-Vietnamese kimonos/robes inherited from her late mother
-A small arsenal of firearms
-Collection of valuable blades from different areas of asia
Yes, and:Kaori crossed paths with Gray Conover one dark night when she was fulfilling a request given to her by the council. When she arrived, she found her prey being hunted by an unlikely predator. From the smell of his blood, Kaori suspected he was human. She lurked in the shadows until the job was done, studying the brave human's methods...and memorizing his scent. |
46,599 | 1,263 | 123 | 1,650 | 715 | The vampire was drunken on blood and pain. Boot to the head. Ow! She didn't see that coming. Gray capitalized on her confused state by rushing her with the improvised stake. Using his full body weight and momentum he slammed it into her heart. It made a gory, "Shlick!", as he forced it in.
"Nighty night, sweetheart." Karram stuck her with the syringe and did some strange magic. Cheater. As if this wasn't enough. Oh well. At the least they wouldn't need to worry about her gaining any mobility an time soon. Gray held on to her as she went limp. She would have been very pretty and peaceful looking right now if she didn't have his blood all over her face. He cringed as her weight put pressure on his punctured shoulder but shrugged it off and lifted her up. It wasn't necessary to remove the stake right now, not until they had to 'question' her. He hefted her up on his uninjured shoulder and started towards the closest fire escape.
On street level a beat up car was running with a ghost in it. Since she was stealing anyways she may as well have taken a bigger or faster car. It'd have to do. Gray popped the trunk and lay their prize down. He took the seat behind the passenger side and inspected his shoulder. It was still bleeding, she had really torn into him. With his luck it'd close up on itself but he ripped up some old jacket left in the back seat anyways and used it for a makeshift bandage.
Gray pull out his cellphone which he thankfully kept in a protective sheathe. Can't have your primary source of communication be cut off because it fell out of your pocket when you were hit. He went to the speed dial for Autumn. "We got her. He leaned back in the seat and let out a sigh of relief. "We're on our way." | Name: Gray Conover
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Physical Description:
Gray stands at 5'11. He is broad-shouldered and lanky, his advantage against his enemies is obviously not brute strength yet he has exercised thoroughly to try to make up some of the difference if he ever has to get that close. He has a long face and a pointed chin and hazel eyes, characteristics that seems to run in his family. His hair color is dark brown and he has mutton chops and doesn't bother to manage his hair so it stands pretty unkempt. He keeps it just short enough in the front that it won't become a problem in combat.
Talents:
Creative Combatant - Gray is a very experienced killer and it comes mainly from his ability to think on his feet and react quickly. Even without weapons on his person he can figure out ways to kill something by using his environment and playing dirty. He certainly doesn't hold back on the playing dirty part which might irk off those noble vampires or whatever the hell else thinks they have some kind of fair fighting spirit in combat. It's always life or death and Gray doesn't plan on being the one dying.
Broad Monster Knowledge - Gray knows how to kill all the common creeps. Werewolves, vampires, zombies(Those are the easy ones), etc. It comes from a personal history of doing just that. If he can't kill it he'll get away and study for some way to do so. After all, his hefty pay check rides on this important task.
Extensive Arms Experience - Gray is both a military veteran and an arms enthusiast. As such he has both experience and extensive practice with firearms. Having talent and practice make him a very accurate shot with long weapons in particular.
History:
Killing monsters runs in the family and family is what really matters. Gray grew up with values, often unapparent to others, that keep him from going too far in the field. He grew up with several brothers and a sister and for the earliest part of his life had no idea what his family really did. They sheltered him from it until he was ready to know the truth. That truth didn't come until it was nearly too late.
Gray joined the military. He was in the army on tour in the middle east when he encountered his first taste of the supernatural world. They seemed like normal middle-eastern villagers. Lured into their village on their patrol, Gray's team didn't pose a very good chance. They had the resilience and constitution of ghouls. Meaning they wouldn't go down without a good headshot or leg shot. Most of his team was felled by their inhuman stamina with mere farm tools. Their adversary was quick and dangerous but he had and the remainder of his squad had the resolve to survive. It wasn't until later that he understood what they were. They weren't undead. They were the "blessed warriors" of a demonic duke known as Abigor that had been piggybacking on wars and feeding off of them since iron was used as a weapon. It made sense why he'd be making his rounds in the most war torn nation in the world.
On his return to the States Gray reunited with his family. Upon hearing his experience they began to explain to him the finer parts of their history. The Conover's have been killing monsters for nearly two-hundred years. Gray had a legacy he was willing to uphold.
Unfortunately that legacy was difficult to acquire with the councils of creatures banded together throughout the world. With the councils keeping everything in check his family didn't indulge in hunting so much anymore. The councils were a necessary evil but they were still monsters and Gray couldn't personally trust them to keep things steady. He needed a group that would let him bypass getting a hit on his head by an organization that vastly overpowered him. It took a while and he took up jobs killing rogue beasts in the process which the council overlooked because of the nature of the cases. He wasn't that good at first. Not many people are. The evil monsters that let themselves be tracked by an amateur are generally the easiest to kill. Gray had mistakes and near-death experiences but his resolve and ingenuity always had the tendency to save him.
When you're feeling hand over hand through the dark you always find something.
Psychological Profile: Gray seems to be morally ambiguous to people who don't know him. To those who do, they see the bold line he won't cross. If a creature isn't a killer and has no potential to be he won't take its life. He sees many jobs he's taken as necessary evil to protect humanity. Overall he views himself as a protector, but damn if he doesn't like a good paycheck.
Gray loves humor in all its forms. He'd be pretty depressing if he couldn't take a good joke every now and then. Even if it's completely misplaced and awkward.
Possessions:
Gray has two large suitcases that are normally too heavy for normal airport admittance. One stores his set of armor. The armor is customizable on the job with many spots for Kevlar inserts, a bite guard, a helmet and a few other minor items to help him adapt to circumstances. Teeth, claws or (preferably not) bullets. He's got something to give him some edge.
Aside from a few spots in the first suitcase for some Glocks and ammunition (Affordability, you lose guns a lot when you're hunting.) he has saved room in his other suitcase for a few sets of street clothes(primarily gray t-shirts, blue jeans and a black jacket) and a compartment for his modified AA12 with silver slugs in three drum magazines. Either crammed in this case or in a car he keeps an Ares 16 with a variety of attachments for use as a long-to-mid range rifle and a grenade launcher(For that beasty who just doesn't want to go down).
Gray wears a small titanium chain around his neck that has several items dangling from it. A small pot-like skull about the size of a thumb that has dried herbs in it, consisting primarily of wolf's bane to ward off a werewolf's ability to smell him. A small alienish shell filled with holes is also affixed to it. This shell happens to be the only item he has that is magic and he only uses it as a last chance item. Thankfully he's only ever used it once before. He isn't quite sure if it has lasting consequences but man does it become handy in a bind. By saying a set of keywords the artifact teleports him an indeterminate distance away to a random location(or whatever location it wants him at, he really has no idea if it has its own agenda. Eerie). The last item dangling from his chain is a simple Celtic cross because it's cool.
A useful item that is never far from his reach is his trusty silver kukri knife.
Yes, and:
Arachne, a master of information has a real talent for finding what she needs and hiding what should stay hidden. Well, Arachne found Gray Conover. A relatively easy, if a little volatile, person to manipulate and point at targets. Contracting Gray for missions with a high paycheck is really quite easy to do. |
46,600 | 1,263 | 124 | 1,012 | 4,032 | Good, let's get the fuck out of here, this is a goddamn mess...
That was Tony's summary of the action, and it felt appropriate -- there was a lot of mess left behind to clean up in the form of vampire bodies, ripped apart in various ways, reforming. It was a problem with fighting vampires that if you didn't bring lots of fire or cut off their heads, they'd be back, and while he'd tried to rip off heads for a reason, you could only do so much of it in one go when fighting vampires -- they were not as fast as a werecreature, or as strong, but far more durable in the long term and not nearly as vulnerable to something like silver. A lycanthrope's powers could be pulled like a plug, which was why Tony was always, prior to this anyway, very careful about not getting into jams in the supernatural world where he had to rely on the man-beast form. It was a thing from the old days, before silver was everywhere and before hunters discovered silver, like the guy their van driver had -- the dude was running around with a bunch of it like the Punisher meets Underworld or something.
In any case, the protocol was the same -- dispose of the van, in this case just abandoning it somewhere and hike the rest of the way -- and eventually make it back to the damn bunker, while trying to avoid anything that might be trailing. Here, the acute senses of a werecreature were useful, because the sense of smell and the sight at night made him a good guy to bring up the rear, especially since he blended in. Black man in the ghetto? No problem. Vampires were still human minds with an inhuman thirst, they overlooked things that didn't stick out or move in unusual ways against the backdrop like any other predator on Earth...
--
Hours after the attack, Billy Rikker was still trying to figure out what he'd say when Neil Gordon, of all men, came into the Rusty Steak Knife; it was far closer to dawn than it was a few hours ago, but there was night enough left and a lot of work to do. The thralls started to raise their weapons, and Gordon, counting down as the thralls, to his perception, moved oh-so-sluggishly to raise their weapons, calculated when he'd actually have to draw his revolver and gun them, down.
"Hold!" came the command from Rikker to his thugs, recognizing the Major; he wouldn't have put good odds on two thralls surviving an encounter with an older vampire that had a very nasty reputation, even in the vampiric circles, for his accomplishments of duels. Duels were not necessarily fatal among vampires, but they were embarrassing, which was why good duelists were noted and giving insult to them was avoided.
"Mister Rikker," Gordon intoned in that Tennessee accent of his, "A good evening to you. I trust you've had a pleasant one?"
"Major Gordon, it's a pleasure to see you," Billy's best Italian Duke manners were on display as he managed a courtly gesture of apology, "My thralls are overzealous and no insult was intended. Might you overlook their lapse?" Rikker liked Gordon little and the disdain was very much mutual, but Billy was a political animal so he hid it quite well. His courtesy was a little more contrived than Gordon, who was raised to be a gentleman rather than affecting it in undeath.
"Certainly," Gordon replied, unperturbed; he still wore his hair long-ish in the style of his day, though it was combed and tied back in a concession to modern fashion, though he also wore a hat, a wider-brimmed Stetson that wouldn't draw notice for a man in a suit -- people assumed 'country gentleman' and while that concept was nebulous in the minds of people, Gordon managed to add the odd occasional stylistic touch of authenticity to any outfit he wore these days, "Though if it is not too much of an imposition, I would beg of you a moment of your time in private, as I bear a message from our lord."
"Of course, I have an office upstairs. It managed to survive most of the damage."
"I'm glad for that, and I am sorry to hear of the misfortunes of the night."
"If you will follow me, please, Major," Billy said as he gestured for Gordon to come with him alongside and explained, "I lost something on the order of fourteen of our own dead and a number of thralls and kine as well," though the mortals didn't really count.
"I see, well the Lord Nemsemet is quite interested in the affair, most particularly any information to be had on what attacked you."
Billy grimaced, "It's hard to say, but there are tales of at least one were-cat of some sort, and a couple different sword wielders -- one woman and the other with wings and a sword, both cutting a swath, and there was one that definitely matched the description of Flint White, who was an enforcer of the court. You were one yourself, did you ever run into him?"
Gordon shook his head, "I'm afraid not. We were in two very different lines of work for the court, you see, but I am familiar with the man's reputation -- he's a magic user."
"Those are the descriptions I have for now."
"And this comes not long after the strike on the daycare center," he noted, while managing not to imply just how bungled an attack that really was. As an experienced Indian-fighter, which was to say that he'd fought braves when he wasn't shooting the women and children, he knew to try to cover the escape routes. Billy clearly didn't.
"Of course," Billy said as he gestured Gordon into the office, which was plushly appointed in that Italian merchant-prince theme, complete with a number of expensive antiques and wood furniture, tastefully done and draped with a bit of silk here and there -- because it wasn't fancy Italian without silk. But what drew the eye was a sword sitting on the desk, no computer because Billy was like so many vampires in how old-fashioned he was, "There were a number of things in the place, but this sword was among them," Billy said, "Though I haven't had time to do anything with it, I was thinking to mount it up a plaque and send it along to our Lord as a trophy."
Fool, he thought of Billy, as he examined it, noting the writing all over the short blade, "It's quite interesting, but I'm not sure what to make of it. What of this man that was the target of the attack, Parael?"
"A fuckin' fag that runs a daycare, prances around in Prada and gave an amulet to Augustus before he was snuffed out. Not a serious player, just a small time magic user," Billy said contemptuously, "I wanted to send a message to anyone else thinking they can defy our Lord in such a way and I figured he wouldn't be missed. Why, Major, I thought you'd appreciate the method, after all..." Billy allowed the thought to trail off, as he tried to butter Gordon up. Gordon smiled tolerantly, though he found himself ever-so-amused that Rikker suddenly fancied himself any sort of expert in scorched earth strategy.
Rikker, to Gordon's mind, was an amateur at that sort of thing; after all. It was a nice thought, but so out of Billy's previous methodology that it occurred to Gordon that Billy was still playing the politician -- he knew Nemsemet was uncompromising, so he took a stab at that sort of thing to please the boss, and thought such a half-hearted effort that let the enemy escape would be laudable.
"Of course, Mr. Rikker, of course," Gordon said, while keeping the facade calm. What Billy did was turn the situation desperate, "How goes your work here, if I might presume to ask?"
"Quite well," Billy said smugly, "Until tonight. I think I have a number of the covens on our side now. It takes time to negotiate, you see." Negotiate, he meant, his cut of their action in the name of Nemsemet. The old Mummy didn't care about tribute, but Billy didn't see the reason to bother Nemsemet about trifles like that or to enlighten the other vampires to Nemsemet's lack of desire for worldly wealth.
"So, what is the message from Nemsemet?"
"This," Gordon told him, as one hand pulled back his coat on the left side, because he favored the cross-draw, and the other reached into it.
The thralls charged up the stairs when the gunshot rang out, and were met with the sight of the older vampire standing in Billy's office, bloody sword in hand and a smoking gun- two shots later, the weapon cycled as quickly as a vampire, fast even among his kind, could cock the hammer, line up the shot and squeeze, not yank, the trigger, and the two thralls sprouted .45 diameter holes in their heads. Gordon wasn't entirely a traditionalist -- they were hollowpoints that left a hell of a gaping hole on exit, in this case the back of the Thralls' heads. More vampires rushed upstairs to see what the uproar was and were met with the sight of the thralls crumpled on the floor and bleeding from messy headwounds onto Billy's wonderful Persian rug.
Major Charles Niall Gordon stood there without a care in the world despite the fact that he was a vampire and had three bodies on that prized Persian rug. That's how they knew Billy had to be dead -- he never allowed blood on that particular rug. It was worth your life to muddy it even.
"Good evening my colleagues," he drawled, "The Lord Nemsemet has placed me in charge of future operations for our little vampire community. I do not care about a percentage of your businesses and I am supremely unconcerned by the economics of the situation, unlike the late, unfortunate and hopefully unlamented Billy Rikker. This is no longer a crime syndicate. This is a war," he announced, "And I am in command. Thralls will be created, armed and housed at locations around the vicinity of Parael's former daycare and we will be combing the Dorset area for further intelligence. We will watch and we will wait. I will have more orders for you in the coming days. For your needs, feel free to use Billy Rikker's funds freely, for he shall not be needing them anymore. If any of you have thralls or are yourselves skilled in computers and surveillance, I will require someone who can tap into the city's camera system. That will be all for the evening, ladies and gentlemen," he said with a polite but dismissive tone, the sort of thing he'd adopt when dealing with fellow officers in a different era -- men you commanded militarily but who were your social equals.
The message was clear. New management.
"Oh, and make sure to burn this place. We won't need it any longer."
Billy Rikker had been Gordon's enemy for a long time. And he'd learned an even longer time ago that you won a war by breaking the enemy psychologically, which often meant burning his things. Rikker had allies and subordinates, ambitious little things that thought they'd take over the organization or intrigue against Gordon.
Burning Rikker's place down around Billy's corpse was meant to warn them of the consequences. And it invigorated him; to Gordon, a war simply wasn't won until you were burning down the enemy's home.
--
Meanwhile, in the Bunker, Tony was changed into another sweatsuit and disgruntled as the others brought in the vampire -- the idea was to subtly gather information, but now things were hot and he expected reprisals. That was his old neighborhood up there, the one he grew up in, and it made him queasy to think about what a bunch of coked up thralls were going to do to it.
But here was the loaded question, in that grimy old bunker, with its rusting chairs and dusty shelves, its slightly moldy smelling cots, "So, what now?" | Name: Antonio Victor Barnes
Age: 65
Gender: Male
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Lycanthrope; were-lion.
Talents:- Beastman form; deadly and effective, but terrifying and very, very, very obvious. It is a combination of a Lion's instincts and muscle density and natural equipment with the upright stature of a human being and a degree of their thought processes melded with the instinct of the animal. It is monstrous and the reason the legends exist.
- Full African lion form - like the cat. Not nearly as useful as, say, a wolf form that could be written off as a dog.
- Fast-healing in man-beast. In other forms, he takes damage normally.
- If hit with anything silver, he is immediately shifted back into normal human form. Also, if a silver bullet is in him, he is unable to shift.
- Rage; in enough pain, he'll see red and there is the potential to start killing indiscriminately to escape this. On the other hand, he's had years to learn how to control this.
- As the moon cycles, his abilities wax and wane; at full moon, he has a hard time controlling said abilities. Nearer the new moon, he finds it requires an extra degree of effort to use his abilities and he tends to tire out easier.
- Even as a human, he has increased senses that allows him to detect things with his nose; for example, sweat and various other secretions, and where they are emotionally based on that. It's a combination of animal magnetism and animal instinct.
History:Antonio Victor Barnes was born to a Afro-Cuban mother and a half-white father in New Camden, in the Dorset neighborhood, which was once home to the Cardinal's Point General Motors factory. His father, Joe, had a good job there, though he worked very hard for it. He'd come to Camden from Virginia. His mother had very little to say about the country she left or the circumstances back there.
In 1967 Uncle Sam decided to draft Antonio into the Vietnam War. He arrived in December of 1967 and saw service right as the Tet Offensive started up in February of 1968. He served in the 9th Infantry Division in the Mekong Delta, fighting near the Cambodian border. Serving as a cherry (replacement) in his new platoon, he served for five months of his tour, watching guys get blown up by booby traps, wounded by mortar fire, shot by Cong and NVA and otherwise chopped up in a futile-seeming war in the jungle; waist deep in the muck of the Mekong Delta. His battalion suffered repeated Viet Cong and NLF/PAVN attacks one night and the next put his company out on the outpost line, which was then overrun by a particularly savage attack by the Vietnamese. Terrified, with his squad dying and dead around him in the jungle night, he changed into the man-beast form and mauled a number of VC and NVA regulars, even as the A-6 Intruders dropped napalm and cluster bombs all over the jungle when the company CO called down the strikes inside his box, on top of the heads of friendlies.
His position took a hit, but he survived, to the astonishment of the reinforcements combing over the battlefield, policing up the weapons and the mauled bodies; the Vietnamese were dumped into a mass grave, the Americans taken to graves registration. But no one could figure up what tore up all these people -- some of the bodies were ripped to shreds.
"Shrapnel, napalm, fuckit," they said.
Barnes was MIA.
He spent time in the jungle, hunting, killing and learning his abilities, and eventually had a sense of how to control them enough to shift back to human form and find help. During that time, the legends were rife in VI Corps and Viet Cong alike of a killer tiger running about in the Delta, a huge, dangerous beast. So it was considered a miracle when he finally was found by the Army; presumed to have escaped POW captivity among the Viet Cong as well as the man-eater of the Mekong, he was evacuated out and then honorably discharged at the end of his draft service in Fort Polk.
His return to the World, coincided with the start of economic hard times in Camden, especially as Cardinal's Point started to lay people off and he flirted around with various dissident movements like the Black Panthers and other organizations that were concerned with the plight of the black man in America, especially after Vietnam. Every full moon, there was the potential for devastation and destruction, and he isolated himself to keep from having another situation where he killed people indiscriminately.
He bummed around the country and, ironically, ran into the Courts in New Orleans of all places, where the supernatural are able to move about a little more freely, and the mortals know a little more than they ought to. His girlfriend at the time, Marie, a Creole, introduced him to the Courts and the supernatural community, though she was somewhat shaky on how things worked because she wasn't entirely clued in, but steered him to people who definitely were.
He learned that he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one and there was a world out there with laws...and that if his black ass felt discriminated against before, wait until he met the Nobles of the courts.
New Orleans wasn't the worst place to lay up and learn things, the Court there was not one of the worst and he used his GI benefits to enroll in Tulane University, where he majored in social work, and carried that into a Master's in Business Administration while working in social work all over the State of Louisiana, where it was needed.
In the course of time, he returned to Camden when his father got sick to help take care of his parents, sometime in the early 1980's, and found that that Camden was as economically depressed as New Orleans. He quickly got to work with local activists and other like minded folk and started trying to find ways to work the system and rebuild the thriving middle class neighborhood he lived in, even as yuppie white fuckers exported all the jobs to places like China, and, ironically, Vietnam.
Fast forward decades later, and Antonio still looks rather young (magical energy tends to sustain a longer lifespan anyway) and has no idea how long his life is going to be, but he's spent a lot of it building the Horizon Foundation, a large not-for-profit that is devoted to preserving New Camden's cultural history and finding new ways to turn old buildings into something profitable within the community as well as retraining and employing locals, particularly out of economically depressed areas like his native Dorset. He paid his tithe, avoided Court politics and was trying to do something good with his life when Nemsemet came to town.
Not liking the injustice of the Court, he didn't really care what Nemsemet did to the likes of Caradoc de Lacy. The only problem is, of course, that Nemsemet is a crazy motherfucker and he's not stopping there. . He's also rallied a lot of lycanthropes to the cause, men and women that are a lot less controlled than Antonio is, raised in clans together that distrust the outside world and are indoctrinated against normal humanity. It's understandable, they've been hunted, persecuted and have lived on the margins. Antonio has some sway with them, in that they are not enthusiastically hunting one of their own, but they aren't listening when he tries to rally these various lycanthrope clans.
Nemsemet is bad news. Now he's on the run like a lot of other people.
Psychological Profile:Deep down, Barnes is still guilty about what he did in Vietnam, flying off the handle, killing a bunch of people indiscriminately. While time has healed some of it, he left the 'Nam resolved to do something worthy and good with the rest of his life, and got into the nitty gritty of social work and entepreneurial neighborhood development. He's always been careful to avoid getting overly involved in Court politics. The Court, so long as one pays tithe and avoids breaking the Concealment Edict, really doesn't care.
On the other hand, the injustice of the Court rankles Antonio, and he's happy to see it gone. But he has a regard for human life that most lycanthropes don't, and is one of the few standing against Nemsemet.
Possessions:A nice house, inherited from his deceased parents that isn't really safe to stay in any more. He's socked away money wisely invested, as well as his considerable salary as the CEO of Horizon. He has a particularly nice 1969 Pontiac Firebird and a shotgun at home that, quite frankly, he doesn't use.
He has a nice cell phone though and some authentic Vietnamese Buddhist prayer beads he picked up in the 1990's when he travelled back to 'Nam to make his peace with the past. They have supernatural significance that he doesn't really understand.
Yes, and: ...Flint and Antonio had a run-in in 1987 or so, when Flint suspected Antonio in a grisly series of murders that involved the consumption of corpses after digging into his Vietnam War history. Antonio was charged by the court, though his innocence was proven when the murders continued with him in custody. Flint and Antonio worked together grudgingly to catch the werewolf family responsible for it, but there's no love lost there. |
46,601 | 1,263 | 125 | 2,534 | 450 | What now indeed.
Parry had an unpleasant evening after getting back to the Bunker, not least of all because everyone took the time to berate him for bungling the plan and putting them all in danger. There were more than a few questioning glanes about the wings and the sword that decapitated vampires when it didn't look sharp enough to cut through a tomato.
To the city at large, from a street wizard to the highest circles of vampire power, Parael was considered an eccentric and flirtatious wizard.
de Lacy and Rikive were the only ones who knew what he was. That cat was out of that bag, but there were only looks- nothing asked out loud.
And Parry had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Nothing like eating a bad tuna sandwich, but his hands felt absolutely filthy. Like they were covered in slime and grease. Holding Cym's sword negated the feeling every now and then, but whenever it came back, he would catch a brief flash of something- a metal hatchet burying itself in the skull of a woman.
A bearded man screaming "FIRE!" to a line of blue-clothed soldiers.
A grey sky over an ash covered field, scalped bodies.
Well... this is new.
"Good news: We have a prisoner, and the chief coven on the East Side is blown to hell," Parry winced, holding his broken nose in proper position- he would be damned if it healed crooked. He had slunk low enough to pull a set of old green scrubs out of his enchanted bag to wear. Leftovers from a one-night-stand he'd enjoyed with a male witch. He'd never had binding hexes used on him in that way, and he wanted a memento. "I had a thought- and it's a long shot- but... what about the fairy court? de Lacy had loose control of the court to begin with. I wouldn't be surprised if the Spring Queen has just closed up the hall and decided to wait this whole thing out. Not that I get a say in this..." | Name: Parael Magnus
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')
Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.
Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...
- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.
- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.
History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.
After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")
Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.
This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.
Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.
To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")
With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...
Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.
Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.
He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").
Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low... |
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