(A collab post between myself and Kaylan)
Colleen Jennings was on the move, although she was not aware of the email sent out by a fellow hunter just yet, she had other reasons completely for being out and about at the opening hours of this evening. She was on the phone, waiting somewhat patiently for the man she was calling to wake his sorry ass up and pick the damn phone up. Before long, the ring tone was replaced by a grumbling sound and the noise of a phone being fumbled with, and Jennings practically sang into the phone. "Well, good morning to you, sleepy head. Get coffee on the pot Alex, we got work to do." Alexander, who was on the other end of the line, groaned a bit, stretching as he sat up, that woman on the other end having already hung up and was probably at least half way to his apartment, since she had already called. He sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, half tempted to just go back to bed and blow her off, but she usually had an excusable reason for when she pulled this kind of stunt, so he got out of bed and put on a pot of coffee, going about getting dressed and getting his hunting kit together, just in case, you never knew what kind of situation Ms. Jennings would pull you into with no warning what so ever. She never just made social calls, always a reason behind her visits after all.
Jennings arrived, knocking at the door, and heard Alex say it was open, and she let herself in, following the smell of coffee. Sure enough, Alexander was sitting at the kitchen table, a pot of black coffee sitting on the table, the local news on the small TV that the detective, secretly hunter, kept for himself to keep track of what the local news stations thought of recent events. Sitting down, Jennings poured herself a cup of coffee, smiling at the scruffy man sipping coffee, staring at the news network, and jokingly punched him in the shoulder a bit. "Lighten up there, gumshoe, you would have woken up in a few more minutes anyways. Besides, you been keeping up with the news? Stuff's been going on under the radar, folks are writing it off like they always do, or are being told to write it off like they always do." Alex nodded, sipping from his coffee and replying in kind, the tiredness was still clear in his voice. "Yea, the call's been put out for the Hunters again. Got an email earlier, from a solid guy. Figure you were coming here for that reason. And you just wanted to steal more of my coffee, since your too lazy to make your own most days, seems like."
Jennings smirked, winking at Alex as she checked her phone, loading up her emails from there while Alex stood up, cleaning up the coffee that wasn't going to be drank, cleaning the table off and what not, while she read the email and typed in a reply, shooting it off rather quickly to the fellow Hunter who had sent the email. One Robert Chandler, and she typed out a quick, easy reply while Alex finished packing up, having armed himself as well. "Jennings here. I just snagged Alexander, we'll be on our way and present in a few hours, talk to you soon!" Finishing the text, she heard Alex pick up his keys, and looked at him, and he raised an eyebrow. "Do you think I would leave my Oldsmobile here? I would get back and some kid would either have stolen it, stolen the radio, or vandalized it. I ain't leaving her unattended." They got into an argument over why they should be in seperate vehicles or not, why Alex cared so much about a shitty car, so on and so forth for a good several minutes, easy.
Finally Jennings just threw her hands up and walked out, Alex was refusing to budge in this case. He was right behind her, jumping into the driver's seat of his Oldsmobile while she got into her truck, which she thought was a far more appropriate vehicle for Hunting, why the hell Alex had gone and found some Oldsmobile and proceeded to buy it and actually use it for hunting was beyond her! Alex would have gladly explained that he found it hilarious that he would pull up in an Oldsmobile, and some aging detective would step out, removing any potential folks had for thinking he was threatening, right up until their head vanished in a fine red mist, a .454 Casull round having marvelous effects like that. But Jennings would hardly care, she didn't think two vehicles were necessary, and refused to ride shotgun in an Oldsmobile, and off they went, as soon as they hit the highway, Alex would pull alongside Jennings, the two hunters cruising side by side to their final destination for the evening, as it were.
Malal the Lion Member
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Most Recent Posts
Name: Alexander Westingfield
Age: 47
Sex: Male
Skills:
+ Pistol Marksmanship
+ Investigation
+ Observation
+ Knife Fighting
+ Brawling
+ Improvisation
+ Driving
+ Tracking
+ Interrogation
+ Lock picking
+ Deception
Personality: Alexander is an experienced man, and it comes through in his gruff, honest tone of voice when dealing with most folks that are, often times, maybe half his age these days. A natural born liar and conman at heart, Alexander plays up his role as an honest, down on his luck detective when, in all actuality, he's in fact quite well off for someone in his position, and often uses his funds for his real work, rather than just his front job. He can often be found sipping at a drink of some sort or another, working through the latest batch of files and information on whatever he's been hired to work on that day, evening, night, or whatever time it may be, a calm, methodical patience clear in the actions he takes in all things.
This does not apply to the Hunter aspect of his life, at least not all of it. Gone is the quiet, almost gentle politeness when he faces the vampire, gone is the illusion of being down on his luck and not a threat in the face of the Garou, and gone is any sense of mercy he ever had for whatever poor souls they had been before what they were now. Alexander is cold and callous when dealing with the supernatural, having lost any pity or remorse for what he did to their unlives, or lives in the case of the Garou, many years ago. Too many have slighted him, too many have made him suffer for him to feel anything other than a cold, smoldering hate that will never be extinguished, and will probably burn in his soul like a black banner of vengeance long after he has died.
Bio: Alexander Westfield was not born in Boston, although he would state many a day that he was never happier than when he first moved into his apartment in downtown Boston, although he jokingly follows up with he knows better now. A lack of accent and a whole mixture of mannerisms make it hard to pinpoint where Westfield was born, though one would be surprised to hear he was born right next door to Boston, in essence, within the city of Lancaster in Pennsylvania. He didn't stay there long, his father a military man and having them move fairly frequently, Alexander was real used to making new friends, moving to the next country, meeting new people there as well.
Once he was old enough to move out on his own, he went to London to attend college, getting a degree in criminal investigation, and it would be in London where, at the young age of 25, he would make his first encounter with the supernatural, and nearly die in the course of such things. He was on a pub crawl with several college friends, having pulled the sober one for that trip to corral the drunkards like a herd of cats, damn near impossible in other words. They were stumbling en masse down a street that was darker than usual when one of them vanished. Getting the rest to the next pub, Alexander backtracked and looked around for the guy, having palmed his knife in and out of the pub since they required any weapons be checked at the door.
What he found was horrifying, to say the least. His friend was dead, literally splattered on the alley walls and the body itself was mostly drained as well. The hissing was his only warning, and he doesn't fully recollect all that happened that night. He does remember a desperate struggle, driving his knife into the thing multiple times to little effect, but the moment his pendant fell out of his shirt, the thing had been driven away, and he had managed to drive it off for good and escape back to safety, though the why of it working eludes him to this day. His friend was reported missing and found a few days later, but Alexander had already absconded from the country, having planned on doing so anyways, but now he had other reasons to do so. Traveling deeper into Eastern Europe, he tracked the rumors and stories of real vampires and werewolves, and found something deeply shocking.
They were real, and obviously did not have humanities best interest in mind. Alexander had spent two years tracking down this truth, and he decided that night that the rest of his life would be spent on hunting them down, and killing the ones that were the gravest threat to humanity. He never adopted the illusion of slaying them all, he would always compromise on the ones that would not at least pretend to play nice with humans, and not out right slaughter them to survive. It took him several years to even figure out there was a difference, and he gave the Garou a wide berth, only dealing with them when they reared their heads in his actual work. He specialized in dealing with Vampires and their ilk, gathering twenty solid years worth of experience in the field of hunting and killing vampires.
Alexander would move back to Boston, to use his criminal investigation degree as a cover, opening up his own Private Detective services, and would make some acquaintances, including a younger ex mercenary that worked with him on quite a few occasions, and a few friends, he included said ex mercenary as one, in the Hunter community that was able to be present and function in that city. It was well controlled by Vampires, and there were Garou outside of it, but Alexander cared little that such things were that way. It meant that, if he was cautious and clever, he could bring down the ones that were not willing to play nice with humans, which was rare for a Hunter to do, but he was not under any illusions of superiority. All he had was his faith, and what weapons, tools, and experience he could muster against the dark, and he would bring them to bear as best he could, in the best places possible.
Appearance:
Equipment:
+ Taurus Raging Bull Model 454
+ Silver Edged Trench Knife
+ Medallion bearing a grinning Death's Head on one side, and a stylized Mjolnir on the other
+ Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser
+ Matches
+ Several Wooden Stakes
+ Crossbow with Nordic runes engraved on each wooden bolt, bearing curses against the Vampires on each
+ Video camera
+ Notepad and Pen
+ Handcuffs
+ Lock picking kit
+ Bolt Cutters
+ Cellphone
+ Large Maglight Flashlight
Age: 47
Sex: Male
Skills:
+ Pistol Marksmanship
+ Investigation
+ Observation
+ Knife Fighting
+ Brawling
+ Improvisation
+ Driving
+ Tracking
+ Interrogation
+ Lock picking
+ Deception
Personality: Alexander is an experienced man, and it comes through in his gruff, honest tone of voice when dealing with most folks that are, often times, maybe half his age these days. A natural born liar and conman at heart, Alexander plays up his role as an honest, down on his luck detective when, in all actuality, he's in fact quite well off for someone in his position, and often uses his funds for his real work, rather than just his front job. He can often be found sipping at a drink of some sort or another, working through the latest batch of files and information on whatever he's been hired to work on that day, evening, night, or whatever time it may be, a calm, methodical patience clear in the actions he takes in all things.
This does not apply to the Hunter aspect of his life, at least not all of it. Gone is the quiet, almost gentle politeness when he faces the vampire, gone is the illusion of being down on his luck and not a threat in the face of the Garou, and gone is any sense of mercy he ever had for whatever poor souls they had been before what they were now. Alexander is cold and callous when dealing with the supernatural, having lost any pity or remorse for what he did to their unlives, or lives in the case of the Garou, many years ago. Too many have slighted him, too many have made him suffer for him to feel anything other than a cold, smoldering hate that will never be extinguished, and will probably burn in his soul like a black banner of vengeance long after he has died.
Bio: Alexander Westfield was not born in Boston, although he would state many a day that he was never happier than when he first moved into his apartment in downtown Boston, although he jokingly follows up with he knows better now. A lack of accent and a whole mixture of mannerisms make it hard to pinpoint where Westfield was born, though one would be surprised to hear he was born right next door to Boston, in essence, within the city of Lancaster in Pennsylvania. He didn't stay there long, his father a military man and having them move fairly frequently, Alexander was real used to making new friends, moving to the next country, meeting new people there as well.
Once he was old enough to move out on his own, he went to London to attend college, getting a degree in criminal investigation, and it would be in London where, at the young age of 25, he would make his first encounter with the supernatural, and nearly die in the course of such things. He was on a pub crawl with several college friends, having pulled the sober one for that trip to corral the drunkards like a herd of cats, damn near impossible in other words. They were stumbling en masse down a street that was darker than usual when one of them vanished. Getting the rest to the next pub, Alexander backtracked and looked around for the guy, having palmed his knife in and out of the pub since they required any weapons be checked at the door.
What he found was horrifying, to say the least. His friend was dead, literally splattered on the alley walls and the body itself was mostly drained as well. The hissing was his only warning, and he doesn't fully recollect all that happened that night. He does remember a desperate struggle, driving his knife into the thing multiple times to little effect, but the moment his pendant fell out of his shirt, the thing had been driven away, and he had managed to drive it off for good and escape back to safety, though the why of it working eludes him to this day. His friend was reported missing and found a few days later, but Alexander had already absconded from the country, having planned on doing so anyways, but now he had other reasons to do so. Traveling deeper into Eastern Europe, he tracked the rumors and stories of real vampires and werewolves, and found something deeply shocking.
They were real, and obviously did not have humanities best interest in mind. Alexander had spent two years tracking down this truth, and he decided that night that the rest of his life would be spent on hunting them down, and killing the ones that were the gravest threat to humanity. He never adopted the illusion of slaying them all, he would always compromise on the ones that would not at least pretend to play nice with humans, and not out right slaughter them to survive. It took him several years to even figure out there was a difference, and he gave the Garou a wide berth, only dealing with them when they reared their heads in his actual work. He specialized in dealing with Vampires and their ilk, gathering twenty solid years worth of experience in the field of hunting and killing vampires.
Alexander would move back to Boston, to use his criminal investigation degree as a cover, opening up his own Private Detective services, and would make some acquaintances, including a younger ex mercenary that worked with him on quite a few occasions, and a few friends, he included said ex mercenary as one, in the Hunter community that was able to be present and function in that city. It was well controlled by Vampires, and there were Garou outside of it, but Alexander cared little that such things were that way. It meant that, if he was cautious and clever, he could bring down the ones that were not willing to play nice with humans, which was rare for a Hunter to do, but he was not under any illusions of superiority. All he had was his faith, and what weapons, tools, and experience he could muster against the dark, and he would bring them to bear as best he could, in the best places possible.
Appearance:
Equipment:
+ Taurus Raging Bull Model 454
+ Silver Edged Trench Knife
+ Medallion bearing a grinning Death's Head on one side, and a stylized Mjolnir on the other
+ Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser
+ Matches
+ Several Wooden Stakes
+ Crossbow with Nordic runes engraved on each wooden bolt, bearing curses against the Vampires on each
+ Video camera
+ Notepad and Pen
+ Handcuffs
+ Lock picking kit
+ Bolt Cutters
+ Cellphone
+ Large Maglight Flashlight
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