[hider=My Hider] [center][img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/0b/cd/5b/0bcd5bbbeda2d4c9753d8d155d9915e7.jpg [/img][/center] [color=39b54a][b]Name:[/b][/color] Jerimiah Tornb [color=39b54a][b]Asset Number:[/b][/color] 122-6106-6122 b (a is dead) [color=39b54a][b]Department:[/b][/color] Damage Control [color=39b54a][b]Age:[/b][/color] 34 [color=39b54a][b]Appearance:[/b][/color] Jeremiah is not traditionally handsome. Nor does he have the whole rugged outdoorsman look going for him. Jeremiah's greasy, pulled back hair is a thinning mess, his teeth have seen better day and his lips are constantly chapped. He looks very much like the typical stereotype for redneck and white trash you expect from his neck of the woods. [color=39b54a][b]Personality:[/b][/color] Subject Id, Jerimah Tomb. Initial assessment. Crude, brutish, unrefined. Jeremiah Tomb is the product of one of the worst, most destitute and criminal trailer park areas in the states. He is prone to unreasonable bouts of anger and violence. Many of his more regrettable traits are the result of spending somewhere around 10 years cooking meth in the Appalachians and doing shrooms with the local sasquatch population. To his credit lies a hardiness and willingness to get down in the muc and haul ass if he need to. There isn’t a sensible bone in his body and I think the word finesse is lost on his vocabulary . But he make a decent footsoldier. [color=39b54a][b]Brief History.[/b][/color] Red Ridge Campin is one of the poorest, most godforsaken places in the US. So naturally, it spawned Jerimiah Tomb. Red Ridge Camping was founded in the 1910’s as one of the first dedicated camping spots for tourist purposes. Back then, the many would be outdoorsmen and rugged survivalists had to take a train, then a several days long hike to make it to the spot. These days, it just takes you 12 hours of hookey backroads up the appalachian mountains. What began as small gathering of tents, grew to a small town of rigged canvas and professorial lodges. As more people fled the constantly growing civilized world, the place grew in size and importance. And it began to attract more then just outdoorsmen and survivalists, it attracted those that wished to escape attention and detection from the long arm of the law. Its remote location and the lack of nearby police presence has left what began as a outdoor american dream to become a den of illicit activity. As years passed, technology changed the world more are more. World War 1 came and went, leaving with it a very strange time. Roads were paved, and cars began to show up more and more. Then someone claimed to have found oil near Red Ridge, and for a while, the population swelled with oilers and their ilk. More permanent residents were built. Then world war two happened, and with entire generations of men nad boys going to war, the town began to falter. During the next 70 years, Red Ridge became yet another remote, meth riddled trailer park, lost to annuals of history. By 1995, only 20 people lived there, The Tomb Family, a small contigent of Illuminati affiliated assets who used the on remaining lodge as their hunting lodge and a old bishop and his seven children. But Red Ridge has another side to it as well. Even back when it was mainly attracting actual campers and survivalists. IT also attracted hunters, hunters of very unique and terrifying kind. Illuminati permanently set up a Hunters Lodge in order to keep the local sasquatch population under control. The Illuminati Hunters would later evolve into Damage Control. Various cults, ancestral spirits and murderous undead also harbor the appalachian mountains, making their presence a mainstain. Imagine their surprise when a Jerimiah Tomb, 26 years old, stumbles into the scene. Born Jerimiah Isaac Mathews Tomb, Tomb was just a scrawny kid with a angry dad and a bitter mom. Having spent most his time with his dear old ma’, his father would take him out to a place at the outskirts to teach him to hunt. Tomb was terrible hunter, and never really got the hang of shooting a rifle anywhere near decent. Jerimiah went to school, slugging his way through everything with barely passing grades in all but Chemistry, which he was somewhat good in. Then he got older, and began to smoke weed and take shrooms as he grew more and more distant towards his dear ol’ Pa. At the age of 21, his father died from doing badly cut meth. At 25, his mother died from doing slightly better meth. Leaving the trailer trash prince a kingdom of a broken down buic, three trailers full of trash, the large barbeque grill they built when he was a kid and not much else. Well, aside from about 300 large in poorly cut meth that his father had apparently stolen from bikers.Being a chemist by hobby, the young man began to purify what he could and lived of slinging the drugs to passerbys and old regulars of his dad and mom. It was fate that had him investigate a noise in the night. The hunters lodges door stood ajar, and he could have sworn he had heard noises from it. That door had never been open more than a few seconds before, so naturally, he went to check it out. In the middle of the lodge crouched a wendigo. And by his feet lay strange, curved broze saber. And it spoke to him. “Pick me up you worthless bint” And so he did. And then they spent five minutes trying to kill a wendigo with said sword before Iluminati showed up to clean up the mess. Recognizing that he was indeed of Summerian blood (Albeit barely) and that the blade had bonded with him, he was given a choice. Death or becoming a asset. He was assigned as Damage Control and told to aid the hunters, and so he did. When he wasn’t busy getting high that is. Skillset: “Chosen One”´. It is a stupid thing, fate. IT ties to people like a puppy running around its owner's legs with the leash. So is it that Jerimiah Tombs entire usefulness relies on the bullshit that is a magical weapon. His combat talents are abysmal outside that old sword of his. However, due to the 000.5 percent of Sumerian Blood he has, he can tap into literally thousands of years of combat experience, heroic deed and arcane might. Granted, he can tap into 0.005 percent of it, but the sheer amount of it makes that percent a decent chunk. [b][color=39b54a]Equipment and Spells:[/color][/b] [color=fff200][i]Mageshgetil, Blade of Kings, Culler of Cowards, Champion of Truths, The Martial Principle Aka “Maggy”[/i][/color] -- The holy blade of Sumerian kings, possibly owned by Gilgamesh himself at one point. In the hands of the kings descendants, it is supposed to be one of the true weapons. Ultimate in its power and dreadfulness. In the hands of Jerimiah, it is as reliable as a bent and rusted shotgun that never been cleaned. It is not the weapons fault. And Mageshgetil tries his damnest. -- [i][color=f26522]Arcanist Cookbook[/color] [/i]--- Essentially the Anarchist Cookbook for the magically inclined. It contains spells and instructions from a dozen different practices, cultures and magic schools. Tomb merely use it for its potent, alchemical drug recipies and to draw protective wards. He lack magical talent to do anything else with it. [/hider]