[b][color=662d91]Name:[/color][/b] Herbert West

[color=662d91][b]Age:[/b][/color] 41

[color=662d91][b]Gender:[/b][/color] Male

[b][color=662d91]Species:[/color][/b] Human

[color=662d91][b]World of Origin:[/b][/color] Earth – 1940s England

[color=662d91][b]Appearance: [/b][/color]
Herbert is a slender man, with a gaunt face and high cheekbones. A dashing man in his youth, Herbert is now the antipode of his former self; his skin is pallid and tinted yellow, hanging loose on his face, making him seem many years older than he actually is, a consequence of many a sleepless night and the lengthy foregoing of sustenance. His nose is sharp, and sits above thin lips that crease at the corners of his mouth. One eye sits half-closed, blind, because of a chemical accident, but both rest in sunken sockets with dark bags hanging from them. A mop of hair, grey before its time, sits upon his head, the greasy locks scraping at his shoulder. He is always found in his musty jacket, unpolished shoes, trousers and yellowed shirt, with a red tie that he cut short. A smell somewhere between formaldehyde and turpentine permeates the air around him. 

[img]https://data.archive.moe/board/tg/image/1411/91/1411918736925.jpg[/img]

[color=662d91][b]Abilities, Skills, Strengths, Personality, and Weaknesses:[/b][/color] 
Herbert has no experience in fighting, but he does have a quick mind and an extensive knowledge of the chemistry of his time. Since the death of his wife, he has become introverted, living in seclusion, meaning it would take while for him to adjust to the company of others. 

[color=662d91][b]History: [/b][/color]
Herbert West was a brilliant mind, becoming the envy of many of his peers for his works in the medical field, producing a wide variety of antibiotics on the back of the work of Florey and Chain. At a young age he had accumulated a large wealth, and became an authority in his field and the publisher and editor of many journals and papers. However, arguably more enviable than his wealth was his wife; a flawless maiden from Holland, Elizabeth. They had met quite by chance at a gathering of important figures, full of smoke blowing and social engineering. The two became quite enamoured with each other, much to the confusion of many onlookers.

The couple wed not a year after, and moved from London to much more rural area, a few hours outside Leeds in the North. 

Then one day she fell ill, and when it was clear she was not getting better, Herbert poured all his energy into finding something that would help, and he failed. There was no medicine that worked, not concoction brewed that brought colours back to her cheeks, no poultice that stopped her rasping breaths, and no tincture that quelled the flow of sweat. 

The death was devastating to Herbert, and everyone was of the opinion it drove him mad, but Herbert knew differently, it had made him more focussed; death would not stop him, because he would bring her back. Perfectly preserving her body, he went about the business of perfecting a method to put the life back into that which was dead. Reanimation, he called it. He would keep an eye out for fresh burials in the local area, using the newly dead corpses as test subjects. The search for the cure for death consumed, and he locked himself away in his country house, hidden away from the light of day. He read books on chemicals and elements, on electricity and mechanisms, and even on dark magic, but none brought him any closer to a revelation. 

When it all seemed hopeless and he hadn’t slept for days, on the verge of admitting defeat, he was torn across the rift.