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[indent][indent][h3][b][color=#939E9B]B[/color][color=#909A97]E[/color][color=#8D9794]N[/color][color=#8A9491]J[/color][color=#87918E]A[/color][color=#848E8B]M[/color][color=#818B88]I[/color][color=#7E8885]N[/color][/b] [color=#78817F]"[/color][color=#757E7C]T[/color][color=#727B79]H[/color][color=#6F7876]E[/color] [color=#697270]B[/color][color=#666F6D]A[/color][color=#646B6A]S[/color][color=#616867]T[/color][color=#5E6564]A[/color][color=#5B6261]R[/color][color=#585F5E]D[/color][color=#555C5B]"[/color] [color=#4F5555]W[/color] [color=#494F4F]E[/color] [color=#434949]I[/color] [color=#3D4343]R[/color][/h3][/indent][/indent]
[indent][indent][indent][color=#939E9B]↷  FORTY-SEVEN   MALE   HUMAN   NIGHT RUNNER   THE BOSS[/color][/indent][/indent][/indent]
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[indent][color=#939E9B]Benjamin Weir, better known as “The Bastard'' by his subordinates, is 6’ 2” and 167lbs of lean, mean, vampire killing machine. 

Depending on who you ask, he might be described as either “ruggedly handsome” or “rough around the edges.” His once jet black, now quickly greying, hair and full beard or often unkempt at best, wild and unruly at worst. His dark brown, don’t-fuck-with-me eyes, sharp features, and head-to-toe tattoos only serve to further contribute to his imposing demeanour - and that’s just the way he likes to be perceived.

Besides his tattoos - a mish-mash of pin-up girls, pop culture references, and cornucopia of anatomically incorrect skulls - The Bastard is covered in a horror show of scars, many he no longer remembers the story behind. There are two scars he will never forget though, and that is the dual lesions that mark where both of his wrists were broken the night he lost most of his team to an ambush.

The Bastard has a strict, function over fashion policy. His wardrobe consists of a few pairs of cargo pants, one pair of jeans, long underwear for the coldest months of the year, and several plain cotton long and short-sleeve shirts. [/color][/indent]
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[indent][color=#939E9B]Benjamin, full name Benjamin Walter Weir, is the youngest of five. A born troublemaker, he wound up being the only child in his father's custody - once he was released from the custody of the Manitoba Youth Centre juvenile detention facility - after his parents divorce in his early teens. 

Ben's father, an ex-cop, had no intention of introducing him to the world of the Night Runners until he reached adulthood, but when it became obvious that Ben needed something to occupy his time (besides drinking, fighting, and vandalism), his father made the choice to bring him into the fold as the youngest ever initiate into the secret vampire-hunting society at the age of 16. 

Ben thrived as a Night Runner, easily adapting to a life of violent vigilante justice, and quickly rose through the ranks to become his father's second-in-command - much to the chagrin of the older, more experienced Runner's who had previously outranked him. 

Over the years, Ben secured himself a reputation as a force to be reckoned with, a reputation that finally earned him the respect of his fellow Runners, and he eventually took over his father's role as their leader when age finally crept up on the old man. 

It was under Ben's watch that the Night Runners were dealt their deadliest blow in recent history. A betrayal from within, a threat not yet identified, lead to the deaths of many of the Night Runners top hunters, the destruction of their base of operations, and a near-crushing blow to the morale of the survivors. Some gave up the fight that year, leaving their ranks even further depleted. Ben, and those who chose to stick out the fight with him, set up a new base in a warehouse in Winnipeg's seedy industrial area, and took on a new mantra: destroy all enemies of the Night Runners, fuck the risks, fuck the cost, and above all else, [i]fuck vampires[/i].
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[indent][color=#939E9B]Ben is all too aware of the risks associated with his chosen profession, and as such has a reputation for being a hard-ass - especially when it comes to new recruits. That being said, he has a genuine interest in preserving and protecting human lives. If you're a vampire, on the other hand, don't expect an olive branch from The Bastard - unless you're expecting it to be jammed into your ribcage. 
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