Name:Louis Kingsland
Title/Alias: Optional.
Age: 34
Gender: male
Height: 6'5
Weight: 200
Appearance: [img]http://orig07.deviantart.net/2b06/f/2014/050/1/e/joseph_curwen_by_hassly-d777k1i.jpg[/img]
Powers: 

[hider=Astral Projection]
Many magickal traditions and societies in the west refer to the Crimson Sky as the Astral Plane. The relationship between the human soul, spirits, and the Astral Plane is one magicians have been studying for millennia. Those who have gained great knowledge of the nature of the soul and this realm which intermingles with our own, may be able to project their conscious self into it. Slipping from flesh, but tethered to the body, the magician can create an echo of their physical form with which they can maneuver the Astral Realm. Here the cold physicality of the material world are but grey shadows to the magician, and the truth of his surroundings is apparent. Though in this realm of space without time the magician can travel across great distances and see many things, his body is left vulnerable in the meditative state and must be undisturbed. What's more, while the tether between body and soul is too great to be severed by violence within the astral realm, it does not mean the magician can't be left untouched by an assault. 
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[hider=Wards]
Words have power in the sense that they give us context, they shape the world around us through meaning, and the meaning we put behind these words is a power in itself. Wards exemplify this better than any other form of magick, as the meaning of the runes, sigils, and diagrams used in them hold a power that goes beyond the physical world. A simple ward of holding for instance, would be nothing but pictures on the ground for a human, but to a spirit they're as real as a brick wall. The same is true for magickal or extrasensory assaults upon a ward, the meaning of the ward causing the vibrations of the energies of the astral plane to adjust and conform as it dictates.
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[hider=Theurgy]
The operation of the gods. Theurgy is the art by which a magician might summon a spirit from the Astral Plane, and then command it by use of its true name, the name of god, and other various ritual methods. Typical theurgy deals with the summoning of elementals, angels, benign gods and similar celestial entities. Goetia lies on the other spectrum of theurgy, dealing with demons and similar low spirits. A magician may also use this art to bind spirits to physical vessels, in a sense creating enchanted artifacts. Djinn lamps, seven-league boots, in truth what can be created is limited only to the magician's resources and the strength of the spirit bound.
[/hider]

Weapons: .38 special and a stiletto.

Equipment: Backpack, whiskey flask, incense, chalk, [i]Ars Goetia[/i], [i]The Corpus Hermeticum[/i], [i]Initiation into Hermetics[/i], [i]The Practice of Magical Evocation[/i], [i]Key to the True Kabbalah[/i], [i]Book of Enoch[/i], Tarot Deck, [i]Meditations of Marcus Aurelius[/i], [i]Dictionnaire Infernal[/i], and ritual attire.

Other: Anything else you can think of, like a theme song and whatnot.

Sample Post/Introduction: 
	A banging at the door woke Louis, and nearly caused him to jump from the seat he'd passed out in the night before. Groaning as the horrid sound came again and again, he rose on stiff legs to answer the door. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair unkempt, face in need of a shave, and breath smelling like fine Kentucky straight. Fumbling with the latch and the lock, the magician opened the door just a crack. A scowl stretched across his face when he saw the face behind it. 

	"What do you want, Gerard?" He groaned, head aching and stomach turning at the sight of the man.

	Gerard simply smiled, a small spot of red amidst a canvas of alabaster. He brushed lint from his suit, a gaudy pin-striped thing with tails and all manner of extravagances. It fit the man rather well in that regard."Mon amie, I merely wished to speak with you and wish you well this fine morning. Is that so wrong of me?" The man's voice was soft and light, every word dripping with a sort of cruel playfulness. His bastardized Parisian accent didn't help the sort of bourgeois air he carried about himself. Despite sharing the building, Louis could never get used to the man's presence, the aura around him. Despite his finery it was... filthy, decayed. It was certainly never the whiskey that made his stomach churn.
	
	"No I suppose not, but then again it isn't a thing like you. Now tell me, what do you want?" Blue met bright hazel as their eyes locked, that same arrogant and playful smile upon the other man's face. Finally closing his eyes and chuckling in defeat, Gerard's smile turned into a amused grin, yellow teeth, small like a doll's peaking through his luscious lips. 

	"Very well, you caught me. I was wondering if you would like to join me and my associates tonight, I've told them about you and they're rather impressed by your... dedication to your craft. We could have great use of you in-"
	
	"No. I've seen you and your 'associates', Mr. Berger. The masks, the filthy golden vestments. All those girls, I see them go up with you and when they come back down they ain't right anymore. Hell, you probably ain't right. It comes off you like heat, radiating and fouling everything around you. If I've insulted you, I apologize, but if you'll excuse me I have to get ready for my next job." 

	"Louis, I would greatly advise that you reconsider my proposal. My associates are influential and powerful individuals, outside even this low realm. I know you to be a theurgist of great skill, and the rewards for you work can be great! What's more, think of what you can learn, what my masters can show you of the Astral Realm, and what lies beyond. He will come soon, descending from the dark places between worlds, he will-" Louis shut the door before Gerard could finish, the man's pale features now resting on a disinterested frown. Sighing, Louis went to the window of his office, peering out onto the street's early morning traffic. His sign swung lazily in the wind.

[i]Louis Kingsland: Occultist and Paranormal Consultant[/i]

Just a floor above, another sign hung. The gold paint of its letters had faded and chipped, and Louis scowled while reading it.

[i]Gerard Berger: Repairer of Reputations[/i]