Helo

This Town of Ours

Location: The Church
Tags: Lilith (@dragonbutts), Nicole (@Silence Sounds)

The quiet ambiance of the church was broken by a sharp and lively voice, just a notch or two above what was normally acceptable in a church, and with a noticeable Texan accent. Wyatt’s first reaction was to smile as he recognized the voice saying his name; Lilith, an old friend, fellow hunter, and a face he hadn’t expected to see again. He turned to face her, and although genuinely happy to see her, he doubted that he was able to hind how much it hurt as well. She’d been a good friend of his late wife, someone he’d known when he thought there was a chance for him to have a normal life, just as he was trying to leave the hunter life she was running towards it and clearly, she’d kept that up. When it came to hunters Lilith was a breath of fresh air, someone who managed to keep things light and bearable even when the shit got heavy. Seeing her was also a reminder of everything he had lost and everything he didn’t want to think about, while painful, it was a pain he’d gladly bare to work with someone he knew he could trust. He hadn’t seen her since she left Texas, and he wasn’t sure if she knew of Jenny’s death or not but he all but prayed that she already did and that she wouldn’t bring it up. He didn’t want to have to talk about it, certainly didn’t want to have to break that news to her, and didn’t want to be distracted when there was work to be done.

“Lilith Westbay, as I live and breathe, it’s good to see you.” He said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and doing his best sound happy to see her, it was, after all, no fault of hers that brought back painful memories. It dawned on him that he’d never tried to get in touch with her after she left, even after he went back to hunting himself. He wished he had; he used to be good at keeping in contact with other hunters, but after Jenny died he’d been mostly a loner, avoiding anyone who might want to talk about something other than hunting or sports. He wasn’t exactly sure what else to say and was pretty thankful when another familiar face showed up.

Nicolette Jackson, another hunter he’d worked with before, or rather worked for as she was a natural leader, entered the church and approached them. Wyatt was relieved, no time for awkward small talk now, hunters were gathering and the conversation would soon be about hunting vampires, a topic he was much more comfortable with. Miss Jackson, looking forward to hunting with you as always. Wyatt said with a nod, he almost always addressed her as Miss Jackson, feeling that it just felt like the more respectful way to address a leader. He looked around the church again but still saw no sign of the priest who had replaced Father Walter.

“Can’t say I’ve seen Father Luca around, maybe we should look around?” He suggested. Luca had be around somewhere and he was more than ready to find out more information on why they had been called here. “Either of you know much about what’s been going on here? I was able to dig up a few articles about mysterious deaths before I left but they didn’t give me much information over the phone.” Wyatt asked the other two hunters. He wondered what they were dealing with here, just a vampire or two, or something more like a major nest.

---

---

Location: Vampire Manor
Tags: Kyle (@Metronome)

Sebastian preferred to embrace the campier aspects of vampire lore, and one of those things meant choosing to sleep in a coffin. He found it both amusing and strangely comforting to be inside a coffin, plus the obvious bonus of not accidently getting burned when the sun came up should he forget to draw the curtains. Although he had gone through many ridiculous coffins through the years his current one, and favorite by far, was an official KISS Kasket, a coffin decorated with images of the band KISS and officially sold by the band. His room also featured a huge flat screen television and speaker system, a record player and several selves of records, an Xbox, PlayStation, and several games. His walls were decorated with posters of punk and metal bands, various different pirate flags and swords, and framed movie posters. His room also featured a few bottles of rum, a pinball machine, mini fridge with blood bags, and black leather couch; a room that looked like it was designed by a college kid and not a three hundred and something year old vampire.

Where some vampires gained class and sophistication with their years Bas went another direction. He went all in with whatever the pop culture of the time was; entertainment, fads, and cool gadgets interested him so much more than fine art, scientific achievements, and education did. Sure, he was now slightly more enlightened than the illiterate bastard raised in a brothel that he once was but he still preferred what many would consider low brow things. Bas was also a bit of a cheap bastard when it came to spending money, at least with most things, but especially with clothes. His car and coffin had both cost him a pretty penny, as had some of the records in his collection, but for day to day items such as clothing, cigars, or even fun human gadgets he’d go for cheap or try to steal them. He grew up poor and liked to horde his money just in case, he never wanted to have to worry about it again.

Upon rising he mixed himself a drink using blood he’d stolen from the hospital which he kept in his mini fridge in his room. His favorite blood type, A+, with its robust, savory, and full bodied flavor needed no alcohol mixed into it for it be palatable. Type O’s and just about every animal blood in the area however was downright disgusting straight up and he almost always needed to mask it’s taste with rum. Today he drank his blood straight from the blood bag like a thirsty child devouring a Capri Sun pack. After his breakfast, he rummaged through his dresser until he found a cigar, which he cut, lit, and smoked. Having had a good rest, a solid meal, and now happily smoking, he wandered through the coven house looking for something to do. He noticed light from the library, which was usually occupied by the other Sebastian, or Old Seb as he preferred to call him. He briefly thought about bothering him for fun but got distracted when he heard Kyle enter the house.

Now at first, he wasn’t sure about Kyle, he seemed very white bread boring when they first turned him. He was too nice, didn’t swear enough for Bas’s liking, and drank beer that Bas found to be overpriced. But then Kyle had proved himself excellent at both Frisbee golf and Call of Duty and had given Bas a very nice bottle of rum which had made him decide that Kyle was most definitely a solid dude.

“Kyle, man, how’s it going” He asked once he made his way to the manor’s front door. Kyle, for some weird reason, had decided to still work at the post office which to Bas seemed like the most boring and mind numbing activity for a vampire. He made sure to stand in the shadows, away from any light that might try and sneak through the door. Luckily it looked like a gloomy day outside, that was good, maybe he could find something to do today outside the house.

This Town of Ours

---

---

Massachusetts was much further east than Wyatt had ever been, the winter here was almost as bad as those he’d experienced in Alaska as a kid. He didn’t care for the cold, he’d spent most of his time enjoying the heat of the south of the desserts of the west coast. He drove a beat up blue ford pickup truck, a simple vehicle that could carry his stuff and weapons as well as handle the New England snow. He kept most of his belongings in his truck, he liked to be ready to go at a moment noticed, the quicker he got the vampire’s the quicker he could put a stop to them.

He still kept his father’s old flip phone, one that various contacts of his father could still use to get ahold of him. His father had known Father Walter, so when Father Luca had called for hunters to help his town, Wyatt responded, having just taken out a vampire nest just outside of Las Vegas he drove for days until he hit Massachusetts. Finding the small town of Middleborough had been a bit of a challenge but eventually he rolled into another quaint small town that vampires seemed to love.

The church was easy to find, it was probably the largest building in town and the roads around it where well paved, Wyatt easily found street parking and shut the truck off. He thought for a second about grabbing a gun or two to hide on his person, just in case, but it was still light out and bringing guns into a church seemed kind of wrong. He of course had some knives and stakes hidden on his person but he wasn’t fool enough to go anywhere completely unarmed.

He locked up the truck and put the keys into his back pocket. Wyatt’s boots crunched in the snow as he crossed the street to the church. A crisp wind cut through his flannel shirt and the inside of the church was only somewhat warmer than the outside. It was fairly empty, at least compared to the churches he’s seen during his time in Texas, but then again it wasn’t Sunday. His eyes searched for a man of the cloth but he did not immediately notice Father Luca. While he waited, he paused in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary, head bowed he silently said a quick prayer for his late wife, Jenny. Wyatt had lost his faith in a higher power a long time ago but Jenny hadn’t and he figured it couldn’t hurt if he was going to be inside a church anyway.

This Town of Ours

Sebastian Kincaid

| Name |

Sebastian Vincent Kincaid
Bloody Bastian
That Bastard Bastian

| Age |

332
Born 1686
Died 1722

| Gender |

Male

| Species |

Vampire

| Nationality |

English/French parentage and born in Nassau

| Personality

Sebastian has gotten by in life due to his ability to his resilience and his ability to adapt and survive. He has deep and unwavering loyalty to the rare person who can earn his respect, and is fiercely protective of anyone he cares about. He has a great capacity for violence, and while not as savage and cruel as he once was he will not hesitate to shed blood when needed; the wrath of both a pirate and a vampire can be a fearsome one. While his temper has cooled quite a bit over the years when set off Sebastian can be incredibly cruel, he is not the forgiving type, Bastian prefers to get even. He has never been the type to show fear or weakness, things like that were sure to get you killed in his time, and complaining about things that cannot be changed are a waste of time and energy to him.

Although he’s not above lying and decent when useful to him he tends to be both blunt and tactless. His more fearsome and intense side is usually lingering just beneath the surface, and without threat or reason to he is usually a jovial and boisterous guy. He likes to have a good time; share a few drinks and dirty jokes, he likes to make people laugh and, for him, there’s nothing better than a wild night. He’s headstrong and arrogant, impulsive and lacking in inhibition. He doesn’t spend a lot of time thinking about the future, living very much in the now, and doing whatever seems like the most fun in the moment. He doesn’t dwell on his past, there’s no point in worrying over the lives he’s taken, and what keeps him from murdering is simply his interest in remaining apart of the coven and having just enough common sense to not draw too much hunter attention.

| Equipment |

Fangs-the only weapon he really needs
His one true love, Vera, a restored ’67 Mustang

Vera

| Appearance |

Bastian stands at 6', broad shoulders and a muscular build Sebastian is an imposing figure to most mortals. His dark hair, which in the past was kept long, is know just beyond jaw length, and his facial hair is normally kept short. His bright blue eyes are piercing and always somewhat predatory, although his charming aura quickly invites people in. His once tan skin is now pale from centuries without sun, and is marked by dozens of scars from his time hunting hunters; various scars from arrows, stakes, and silver blades mare his arms, legs, and torso. Having been sired at thirty six he is eternally that age but many of his old pirate scars and signs of aging healed faded when he joined the ranks of the undead, the scars he gained as a vampire, however, remain. He dresses casually, favoring dark colors, layers, and leather.

| Other |

He loves music, movies, books, rum, muscle cars, and modern technology. He loves new things, anything that’s new when you’ve been around as long as he is a great find. When he does need to fight or kill he prefers to do so without a weapon, up close and personal. He has a considerable amount of wealth squirreled away in various accounts all over the world, having lived for over three centuries he's made sure he'll never be poor again. He loves to sing old songs and tell old stories after a few drinks and still enjoys a good cigar.

| History |

Born in a brothel on the port city of Nassau, an infamous pirate stronghold in the Caribbean. His mother died during child birth but the rest of the women in the brothel helped to raise him, instead of one mother he ended up with many. Although he never met his father the women entertained him with bedtime stories of his father, a brave swashbuckler and fearsome pirate, having all sorts of adventures on the open seas. When he was old enough he spent the day doing various chores and pickpocketing to earn his keep. He played with the various other bastard children that hung around the brothel and dreamed of a life on the open sea. Sure, his childhood wasn’t exactly ideal but Sebastian had no real complaints. He learned all he could from the pirates and sailors that came and went from the port before joining a crew at the age fourteen. Bastian left home for the first time with three goals; to become a great pirate, to make a living, and to see the world.

He worked hard as the ship’s cook, having learned many a culinary trick or two from the working women who raised him, and trained hard with the other men to improve his skill with a sword and his aim with a pistol. After a few rough nights, Bastian quickly developed his sea legs, he impressed his peers with his hard work, loyalty, and bravery. He remembers his first attack, when they boarded another ship, all hell broke out and he took his first of many lives. His first kill was the only time he hesitated, if only for a second, and the guilt he drank away with whiskey and rum. After that his crew was his family, he never hesitated to defend them or to kill for them. Taking what he needed to survive had been a necessity all his life; from picking pockets to taking lives, Sebastian did what was necessary for his survival. During his time on the sea he rubbed shoulders with the likes of Stede Bonnet, Charles Vane, Calico Jack Rackham, Anne Bonney, and Blackbeard.

He became a skilled sailor, as well as being known for his ferocity in battle, earning himself the name Bloody Bastian, and eventually became one of the Boatswain for Bartholomew Roberts, or Black Bart. He was there the day the Swallow attacked, drunk yes but not too far gone to do his job unfortunately the same couldn’t be said for many of the men. Their captain was killed, the crew captured and many were sentenced to either jail or death. He escaped death by signing up for indentured servitude and then escaping. Bastian, a lifelong wanderer could think of nowhere he’d rather be than his home in Nassau. Sadly, for him, things were no longer the same, and never would be with the British taking control of the Caribbean. He spent several months drinking his senses away until the fateful night that a woman he’d never seen before lured him into an alley way. Bastian found himself completely enchanted by her, to point where he didn’t even feel her teeth penetrate his neck.

He awoke that night in dark room with an insatiable hunger that never left him. Moving faster than he ever had in his life he snatched a rat from the floor and ripped into it with his newly discovered fangs. His eyes adjusted to the dark like they never had before and he noticed the same woman from the night before, Eva, a woman already a few centuries his senior who had chosen him as a member of her coven. Although hesitant at first, he understood that his old way of life was ending, and being unable to go out into the sun ruled out sailing for him anyway. He accepted his place in her coven. They fed when hungry; Bastian found human blood significantly more palatable than rodent, and took what they needed. Slipping into the role of vampire came as easily to him as piracy had; when alive he rarely paid much consideration to his fellow man so why should that change after his death?

Other coven members came and went but through the decades Sebastian stayed loyal to his sire. He killed for her, he loved her in an unhealthy and all-consuming way and would have gladly died for her but she would have it the other way. One night when cornered by hunters she gave her life so that he could escape. As he fled the hunters burned her alive, he couldn’t see it nor could he hear her cries but the smell of a burning vampire carried by the wind was unmistakable. For the first time in his life he was completely alone, no one to serve or makeshift family to show him how to be.

Sebastian wandered, filled with rage and confusion, and he tore through any hunter he could find. He tried to cleanse his sorrow with blood until became convinced that there wasn’t enough blood in the world to wash away the grief he felt. He was attacked in France by large party of hunters, he barely managed to escape into sewers, pulling dozens of stakes and arrows from his body, weakened to the point where he couldn’t even hunt. For the second time as a vampire he was forced to eat rats. As he slowly regained strength he realized he couldn’t throw his life away after someone had given their life for him. He needed to keep surviving and to find something new worth living for.

He remembered dreaming, as a young man, to see the world, to explore and discover. He traveled and along the way spent his time in the bars, pubs, and taverns around the world. He got to know so many different kinds of people and developed an interest and respect in his fellow man that he’d never had before. While he still hunted and enjoyed a good kill he no longer took more than he needed and much of his cruelty was tempered out of him. From time to time he would sire a vampire of his own, a friend or lover, a vampire companion to whom he could relate. Some would simple grow apart from him while others would succumb to hunters or the loneliness that plague his kind.

He enjoyed watching the world grow and change, he made every attempt to stay a part of the world as it did, throwing himself into new roles. Many lives as revolutionaries all over the world, fighting to overthrow cruel governments, time spent running wild in the old west, as a bootlegger during prohibition era America. He followed any group that reminded him of the pirate lifestyle he missed. He watched the world change completely and the more modern the world became the more accessible things for vampires became.

Soon information was so readily available he became more educated than he had ever dreamed of; an illiterate orphan, raised in a brothel, could now learn anything he desired with a single device. Then there was the literature, movies, cars, technology, and best of all the music. There was always something new to hold his interest, to discover, and consume. Sebastian indulged in everything around him, he kept moving from place to place and by the time he ended up somewhere he’d already been it was practically new again. He made temporary connections to the mortals around him and leaving always got a little harder but time spent with his own kind seemed to make him revert to a more reckless and animalist version of himself.

Eventually he found the coven in Middleborough, the vampire’s there were different from the one’s he had known. They seemed more in control, more grounded but their agreement to not kill seemed a bit too far for him. Animal blood was barely palatable, although watered down with enough alcohol almost made it bearable, but having a group who could feel like family, those of his own kind, made the sacrifice worth it. He does however, on occasion, like to steal blood from local hospitals to avoid drinking animal blood.

Wᴇ Aʀᴇ Tʜᴇ Cʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ

---

---

Eli had spent the night on one of the old busted up couches in the abandoned house. It had been his first night of freedom since being chosen, and although exhausted from the escape his sleep was restless. He mumbled in his sleep, tossed and turned, whimpered, and occasionally woke up throughout the night from the nightmares. Every time he closed his eyes he was back at the facility, reliving the experiments done to him and experiencing new ones that his haunted mind dreamed up while he slept.

Before falling asleep the night before, Eli had explored the abandoned house for a bit. It was clear from the piles of trash, occasionally used needles, and the graffiti on the walls that they were not the first people to squat here. The only semi useful thing he had found was an old pack of playing cards which he kept in the pocket of his jeans. There was no food in the house, he had gone to bed hungry which wasn’t exactly new to him but he needed to eat something soon. As he sat up and stretched some his stomach growled; Eli had also tried to eat as little as possible while they were kept in the facility, after finding out their true intentions were to make them all fight to the death he didn’t trust anything that they offered him.

Yesterday had been hard; waking up basically a prisoner held captive by his own government, the escape, and the constant fear of being caught before find a place to rest. Today was better though, today he was free, he had decided he would not allow himself to be taken back, and he was confident that with his new abilities and those of the people he had escaped with they stood a chance staying free. He breathed in the stale musty air of the house as his eyes adjusted to the faint light that snuck through the boarded-up windows. Jess, the girl who had stepped into the role of their leader, was walking through the house waking the others.

Eli wanted to go out to try and get some water and something to eat, he hoped the rest of the group felt the same way. It would be difficult to try and steal enough for six people, he didn’t know if any of the others had any skill at theft and as far as he knew they didn’t have any money between them. He also felt they should keep moving, find a new shelter, and not to stay in one place for too long. He caught a familiar sent in the house, someone was smoking, and he left the room he was in and followed the smell to the other room on the ground floor.

“Hey where’d ya get smokes?” He asked as he took a seat on the opposite end on the couch Agnes was sitting on. “Got any to share?” He asked. The first smoke of the morning was always the best one.

This Town of Ours

Wyatt J. Carver

| Name |

Wyatt Jonathan Carver

| Age |

28

| Gender |

Male

| Species |

Hunter, Human

| Nationality |

American, Alaskan

| Personality

Wyatt is not the easiest person to get to know, while he's friendly he tends to steer conversation away from himself. He likes people, likes to get to know new people but unless they're fellow hunters he doesn't really let new people into his life. He feels it's safer for normal people that way, he doesn't want to bring the dangers of his life into their lives and still feels a large amount of guilt over the death of his wife. He tries not to dwell on pain and guilt though, Wyat has become very good at compartmentalizing his emotions and not dealing with them. He keeps himself busy with hunting and training in order to avoid remembering what he's lost. Most of them time he just feels numb and to make himself feel more alive he searches for risks and danger; anything to get a rush of adrenalin. Sometimes it's picking a fight, sometimes it's hunting something dangerous and sometimes it's just gambling with money or possessions.

Despite his predilection for danger he is a good hunter. He respects and obeys the leaders of the towns he travels through, he'll speak up if he disagrees with a decision but unless he has an ethical reason not to he will follow orders. He is very loyal to any hunting party he is a part of and is protective of his fellow hunters and of other humans. He rarely has a second thought about rushing into danger especially if it is to help another. The work they do is important, and while he didn't always put hunting first he does now. Wyatt is impulsive, he listens to his gut and his heart over his head and while he isn't always right his intentions are almost always good. He can be hot headed, especially in a fight and he's doesn't easily forgive those who betray his trust.

| Equipment |

He keeps several weapons on him including brass knuckles made of silver with crosses etched over each knuckle, a small silver tipped boot knife when wearing boots, a wooden stake, a few silver tipped throwing knives hidden in a jacket, and however many vials of holy water he can hide on him without it being cumbersome. He has a conceal and carry permit but normally doesn't carry guns with him unless he's actively hunting as it draws attention and of course he has silver bullets. His favorite weapon is a recurve bow, used for both hunting animals and vampires. He has a variety of arrows; traditional wooden ones, carbons with silver tips, and of course regular arrows for animal hunting. He’s descent with bladed weapons such as an ax, sword, or machete, but like with guns doesn’t carry those on his person unless he’s going after a vampire. Around his neck is a silver Celtic cross, a gift from his mother.

| Appearance |

Wyatt is 6'2 with broad shoulders and a toned muscular build. He trains almost daily to stay in top physical condition; as human he is already at a disadvantage hunting the supernatural so he does whatever he needs to do to improve his odds. He keeps his hair short and his facial hair well-trimmed somewhere between a shadow and a light scruff. His eyes are bright blue, though not as bright as they once were, he has a much harder and world weary look to him than he did as a younger man, but he makes the effort to smile and present an outwardly friendly appearance. His clothing choices are almost always casual, hunting boots or sneakers, usually jeans, t-shirts, hoodies and maybe a jacket if it's really cold or a flannel shirt. His clothes fit loosely enough that they don't constrict movement but not to the point where they look baggy. Wyatt hates wearing suits or a tie, unless there's a funeral, wedding, or something of that nature he won't be dressing up. He wears silver Celtic cross given to him by his mother and a plain gold wedding band that he’s just not ready to take off.

| Other |

He seems to almost always be snacking on something; apples, almonds, and carrots are his snacks of choice as he likes a good crunch. His main hobbies are archery and bow hunting, gambling, and playing pool. He loves to tell hunting stories, especially with other vampire hunters and almost always exaggerates them. He absolutely hates situations which he has no control over, people who complain, and cowards. Wyatt has a fear of flying although he’d never admit it, and mild claustrophobia.

| History |

Wyatt was born into hunting, his father and mother both had been hunters and while they gave him a normal childhood they also encouraged him to take up activities like boxing, archery, and survival skills. His mother worked as a chef and his father would frequently be on long business trips but as a child he was never sure what exactly his father did. His mother had temporarily given up hunting to raise him but his father would travel to take part in hunts hoping to keep the violence of it away from his family. They lived a fairly simple life, his parents didn't have much but Wy always had what he needed. Their backyard was basically a forest and he was almost always outside exploring it. His father started teaching him to hunt animals at eight and he had a natural talent for archery. He always looked forward to the family camping trips they would take and hunting with his dad.

He was thirteen when his family was attacked by man during a camping trip. His mother died protecting him before his father killed the man by shooting an arrow through his heart. The strangest thing was how that man unnaturally withered into dust. It was that night that his father explained to him about the existence of vampires. The man that had attacked them was vampire, a member of a coven his father had hunted who had come looking for revenge. After the death of his mother he and his father moved around a lot. Wy was trained to be hunter and he spent all his spare time training and learning. He did well enough in school to get by, but it was his hunter training that he truly focused on. At eighteen his dad started taking him on hunting trips and soon afterwards he made his first kill. His father was proud of the hunter he was becoming and of how dedicated a hunter his son was.

Eventually he and his dad grouped up with some other hunters and spent some time in Texas going after and vicious coven prying on the homeless. It was there that Wyatt met a woman, Jenny, and he was infatuated with her from the beginning. He kept hunting with his dad and their usual hunting party for a year as they dated but things began to get serious and he fell in love. Although he struggled with the decision, Wy gave up hunting the day he decided to propose, he didn't want what happened to his mother to happen to his wife to be. His father was furious, hunting was the family legacy and his father always believed hunting should come first, that it was their duty. He and his father had a huge fight and they didn't speak for months. His father didn't even show up to the wedding and a few weeks later a fellow hunter called to tell him his father had been killed raiding a vampire nest. Losing his father was difficult but his wife helped him get through it. Although he had given up hunting he still trained like a hunter, always expecting something to come after him or Jenny and eventually it did.

He was working a late shift one night when he got the call, Jenny's body had been found in a park, exsanguinated. He was informed that the baby hadn't survived either, they hadn't known about the pregnancy and he tries not to think about it as one loss was hard enough. The news broke him, he had lost everything that mattered by trying to protect them from hunter life. He quit his job and spent months drinking, grieving and tracking down the vampire that had killed his wife. When he did find the vampire, he killed it in the slowest and cruelest way he could after finding out why it had come after him and his wife. Turns out the vampire didn't even know who he was, Jenny had been a random choice and the vampire had simply been hungry that night. After that he found a new hunting party and became an even more dedicated hunter than before, it has become what he lives for. He hunts to keep the violence and tragedy away from others, those who know nothing about the monsters out there. He takes solace in his kills, every vampire he puts down is a monster that will never destroy another life. He lives a nomadic existence, keeping in contact only with other hunters, those who have made the choice to allow danger in their lives, mainly to learn of towns and cities with a vampire problem. Wyatt doesn’t put down roots, he tries not to make connections with regular people because he can’t handle the burden of bringing danger into their lives; so he keeps moving, he drinks to numb his pain, throws himself into danger to feel something other than grief and loneliness and his stubbornness allows him to convince himself that he’s doing the right thing.

---

---

Sebastian Kincaid

| Name |

Sebastian Vincent Kincaid
Bloody Bastian
That Bastard Bastian

| Age |

332
Born 1686
Died 1722

| Gender |

Male

| Species |

Vampire

| Nationality |

English/French parentage and born in Nassau

| Personality

Sebastian has gotten by in life due to his ability to his resilience and his ability to adapt and survive. He has deep and unwavering loyalty to the rare person who can earn his respect, and is fiercely protective of anyone he cares about. He has a great capacity for violence, and while not as savage and cruel as he once was he will not hesitate to shed blood when needed; the wrath of both a pirate and a vampire can be a fearsome one. While his temper has cooled quite a bit over the years when set off Sebastian can be incredibly cruel, he is not the forgiving type, Bastian prefers to get even. He has never been the type to show fear or weakness, things like that were sure to get you killed in his time, and complaining about things that cannot be changed are a waste of time and energy to him.

Although he’s not above lying and decent when useful to him he tends to be both blunt and tactless. His more fearsome and intense side is usually lingering just beneath the surface, and without threat or reason to he is usually a jovial and boisterous guy. He likes to have a good time; share a few drinks and dirty jokes, he likes to make people laugh and, for him, there’s nothing better than a wild night. He’s headstrong and arrogant, impulsive and lacking in inhibition. He doesn’t spend a lot of time thinking about the future, living very much in the now, and doing whatever seems like the most fun in the moment. He doesn’t dwell on his past, there’s no point in worrying over the lives he’s taken, and what keeps him from murdering is simply his interest in remaining apart of the coven and having just enough common sense to not draw too much hunter attention.

| Equipment |

Fangs-the only weapon he really needs
His one true love, Vera, a restored ’67 Mustang

Vera

| Appearance |

Bastian stands at 6', broad shoulders and a muscular build Sebastian is an imposing figure to most mortals. His dark hair, which in the past was kept long, is know just beyond jaw length, and his facial hair is normally kept short. His bright blue eyes are piercing and always somewhat predatory, although his charming aura quickly invites people in. His once tan skin is now pale from centuries without sun, and is marked by dozens of scars from his time hunting hunters; various scars from arrows, stakes, and silver blades mare his arms, legs, and torso. Having been sired at thirty six he is eternally that age but many of his old pirate scars and signs of aging healed faded when he joined the ranks of the undead, the scars he gained as a vampire, however, remain. He dresses casually, favoring dark colors, layers, and leather.

| Other |

He loves music, movies, books, rum, muscle cars, and modern technology. He loves new things, anything that’s new when you’ve been around as long as he is a great find. When he does need to fight or kill he prefers to do so without a weapon, up close and personal. He has a considerable amount of wealth squirreled away in various accounts all over the world, having lived for over three centuries he's made sure he'll never be poor again. He loves to sing old songs and tell old stories after a few drinks and still enjoys a good cigar.

| History |

Born in a brothel on the port city of Nassau, an infamous pirate stronghold in the Caribbean. His mother died during child birth but the rest of the women in the brothel helped to raise him, instead of one mother he ended up with many. Although he never met his father the women entertained him with bedtime stories of his father, a brave swashbuckler and fearsome pirate, having all sorts of adventures on the open seas. When he was old enough he spent the day doing various chores and pickpocketing to earn his keep. He played with the various other bastard children that hung around the brothel and dreamed of a life on the open sea. Sure, his childhood wasn’t exactly ideal but Sebastian had no real complaints. He learned all he could from the pirates and sailors that came and went from the port before joining a crew at the age fourteen. Bastian left home for the first time with three goals; to become a great pirate, to make a living, and to see the world.

He worked hard as the ship’s cook, having learned many a culinary trick or two from the working women who raised him, and trained hard with the other men to improve his skill with a sword and his aim with a pistol. After a few rough nights, Bastian quickly developed his sea legs, he impressed his peers with his hard work, loyalty, and bravery. He remembers his first attack, when they boarded another ship, all hell broke out and he took his first of many lives. His first kill was the only time he hesitated, if only for a second, and the guilt he drank away with whiskey and rum. After that his crew was his family, he never hesitated to defend them or to kill for them. Taking what he needed to survive had been a necessity all his life; from picking pockets to taking lives, Sebastian did what was necessary for his survival. During his time on the sea he rubbed shoulders with the likes of Stede Bonnet, Charles Vane, Calico Jack Rackham, Anne Bonney, and Blackbeard.

He became a skilled sailor, as well as being known for his ferocity in battle, earning himself the name Bloody Bastian, and eventually became one of the Boatswain for Bartholomew Roberts, or Black Bart. He was there the day the Swallow attacked, drunk yes but not too far gone to do his job unfortunately the same couldn’t be said for many of the men. Their captain was killed, the crew captured and many were sentenced to either jail or death. He escaped death by signing up for indentured servitude and then escaping. Bastian, a lifelong wanderer could think of nowhere he’d rather be than his home in Nassau. Sadly, for him, things were no longer the same, and never would be with the British taking control of the Caribbean. He spent several months drinking his senses away until the fateful night that a woman he’d never seen before lured him into an alley way. Bastian found himself completely enchanted by her, to point where he didn’t even feel her teeth penetrate his neck.

He awoke that night in dark room with an insatiable hunger that never left him. Moving faster than he ever had in his life he snatched a rat from the floor and ripped into it with his newly discovered fangs. His eyes adjusted to the dark like they never had before and he noticed the same woman from the night before, Eva, a woman already a few centuries his senior who had chosen him as a member of her coven. Although hesitant at first, he understood that his old way of life was ending, and being unable to go out into the sun ruled out sailing for him anyway. He accepted his place in her coven. They fed when hungry; Bastian found human blood significantly more palatable than rodent, and took what they needed. Slipping into the role of vampire came as easily to him as piracy had; when alive he rarely paid much consideration to his fellow man so why should that change after his death?

Other coven members came and went but through the decades Sebastian stayed loyal to his sire. He killed for her, he loved her in an unhealthy and all-consuming way and would have gladly died for her but she would have it the other way. One night when cornered by hunters she gave her life so that he could escape. As he fled the hunters burned her alive, he couldn’t see it nor could he hear her cries but the smell of a burning vampire carried by the wind was unmistakable. For the first time in his life he was completely alone, no one to serve or makeshift family to show him how to be.

Sebastian wandered, filled with rage and confusion, and he tore through any hunter he could find. He tried to cleanse his sorrow with blood until became convinced that there wasn’t enough blood in the world to wash away the grief he felt. He was attacked in France by large party of hunters, he barely managed to escape into sewers, pulling dozens of stakes and arrows from his body, weakened to the point where he couldn’t even hunt. For the second time as a vampire he was forced to eat rats. As he slowly regained strength he realized he couldn’t throw his life away after someone had given their life for him. He needed to keep surviving and to find something new worth living for.

He remembered dreaming, as a young man, to see the world, to explore and discover. He traveled and along the way spent his time in the bars, pubs, and taverns around the world. He got to know so many different kinds of people and developed an interest and respect in his fellow man that he’d never had before. While he still hunted and enjoyed a good kill he no longer took more than he needed and much of his cruelty was tempered out of him. From time to time he would sire a vampire of his own, a friend or lover, a vampire companion to whom he could relate. Some would simple grow apart from him while others would succumb to hunters or the loneliness that plague his kind.

He enjoyed watching the world grow and change, he made every attempt to stay a part of the world as it did, throwing himself into new roles. Many lives as revolutionaries all over the world, fighting to overthrow cruel governments, time spent running wild in the old west, as a bootlegger during prohibition era America. He followed any group that reminded him of the pirate lifestyle he missed. He watched the world change completely and the more modern the world became the more accessible things for vampires became.

Soon information was so readily available he became more educated than he had ever dreamed of; an illiterate orphan, raised in a brothel, could now learn anything he desired with a single device. Then there was the literature, movies, cars, technology, and best of all the music. There was always something new to hold his interest, to discover, and consume. Sebastian indulged in everything around him, he kept moving from place to place and by the time he ended up somewhere he’d already been it was practically new again. He made temporary connections to the mortals around him and leaving always got a little harder but time spent with his own kind seemed to make him revert to a more reckless and animalist version of himself.

Eventually he found the coven in Middleborough, the vampire’s there were different from the one’s he had known. They seemed more in control, more grounded but their agreement to not kill seemed a bit too far for him. Animal blood was barely palatable, although watered down with enough alcohol almost made it bearable, but having a group who could feel like family, those of his own kind, made the sacrifice worth it. He does however, on occasion, like to steal blood from local hospitals to avoid drinking animal blood.

This Town of Ours

Wyatt J. Carver

| Name |

Wyatt Jonathan Carver

| Age |

28

| Gender |

Male

| Species |

Hunter, Human

| Nationality |

American, Alaskan

| Personality

Wyatt is not the easiest person to get to know, while he's friendly he tends to steer conversation away from himself. He likes people, likes to get to know new people but unless they're fellow hunters he doesn't really let new people into his life. He feels it's safer for normal people that way, he doesn't want to bring the dangers of his life into their lives and still feels a large amount of guilt over the death of his wife. He tries not to dwell on pain and guilt though, Dan has become very good at compartmentalizing his emotions and not dealing with them. He keeps himself busy with hunting and training in order to avoid remembering what he's lost. Most of them time he just feels numb and to make himself feel more alive he searches for risks and danger; anything to get a rush of adrenalin. Sometimes it's picking a fight, sometimes it's hunting something dangerous and sometimes it's just gambling with money or possessions.

Despite his predilection for danger he is a good hunter. He respects and obeys the leaders of the towns he travels through, he'll speak up if he disagrees with a decision but unless he has an ethical reason not to he will follow orders. He is very loyal to any hunting party he is a part of and is protective of his fellow hunters and of other humans. He rarely has a second thought about rushing into danger especially if it is to help another. The work they do is important, and while he didn't always put hunting first he does now. Dan is impulsive, he listens to his gut and his heart over his head and while he isn't always right his intentions are almost always good. He can be hot headed, especially in a fight and he's doesn't easily forgive those who betray his trust.

| Equipment |

He keeps several weapons on him including brass knuckles made of silver with crosses etched over each knuckle, a small silver tipped boot knife when wearing boots, a wooden stake, a few silver tipped throwing knives hidden in a jacket, and however many vials of holy water he can hide on him without it being cumbersome. He has a conceal and carry permit but normally doesn't carry guns with him unless he's actively hunting as it draws attention and of course he has silver bullets. His favorite weapon is a recurve bow, used for both hunting animals and vampires. He has a variety of arrows; traditional wooden ones, carbons with silver tips, and of course regular arrows for animal hunting. He’s descent with bladed weapons such as an ax, sword, or machete, but like with guns doesn’t carry those on his person unless he’s going after a vampire. Around his neck is a silver Celtic cross, a gift from his mother.

| Appearance |

Wyatt is 6'2 with broad shoulders and a toned muscular build. He trains almost daily to stay in top physical condition; as human he is already at a disadvantage hunting the supernatural so he does whatever he needs to do to improve his odds. He keeps his hair short and his facial hair well-trimmed somewhere between a shadow and a light scruff. His eyes are bright blue, though not as bright as they once were, he has a much harder and world weary look to him than he did as a younger man, but he makes the effort to smile and present an outwardly friendly appearance. His clothing choices are almost always casual, hunting boots or sneakers, usually jeans, t-shirts, hoodies and maybe a jacket if it's really cold or a flannel shirt. His clothes fit loosely enough that they don't constrict movement but not to the point where they look baggy. Wyatt hates wearing suits or a tie, unless there's a funeral, wedding, or something of that nature he won't be dressing up. He wears silver Celtic cross given to him by his mother and a plain gold wedding band that he’s just not ready to take off.

| Other |

He seems to almost always be snacking on something; apples, almonds, and carrots are his snacks of choice as he likes a good crunch. His main hobbies are archery and bow hunting, gambling, and playing pool. He loves to tell hunting stories, especially with other vampire hunters and almost always exaggerates them. He absolutely hates situations which he has no control over, people who complain, and cowards. Wyatt has a fear of flying although he’d never admit it, and mild claustrophobia.

| History |

Wyatt was born into hunting, his father and mother both had been hunters and while they gave him a normal childhood they also encouraged him to take up activities like boxing, archery, and survival skills. His mother worked as a chef and his father would frequently be on long business trips but as a child he was never sure what exactly his father did. His mother had temporarily given up hunting to raise him but his father would travel to take part in hunts hoping to keep the violence of it away from his family. They lived a fairly simple life, his parents didn't have much but Wy always had what he needed. Their backyard was basically a forest and he was almost always outside exploring it. His father started teaching him to hunt animals at eight and he had a natural talent for archery. He always looked forward to the family camping trips they would take and hunting with his dad.

He was thirteen when his family was attacked by man during a camping trip. His mother died protecting him before his father killed the man by shooting an arrow through his heart. The strangest thing was how that man unnaturally withered into dust. It was that night that his father explained to him about the existence of vampires. The man that had attacked them was vampire, a member of a coven his father had hunted who had come looking for revenge. After the death of his mother he and his father moved around a lot. Wy was trained to be hunter and he spent all his spare time training and learning. He did well enough in school to get by, but it was his hunter training that he truly focused on. At eighteen his dad started taking him on hunting trips and soon afterwards he made his first kill. His father was proud of the hunter he was becoming and of how dedicated a hunter his son was.

Eventually he and his dad grouped up with some other hunters and spent some time in Texas going after and vicious coven prying on the homeless. It was there that Wyatt met a woman, Jenny, and he was infatuated with her from the beginning. He kept hunting with his dad and their usual hunting party for a year as they dated but things began to get serious and he fell in love. Although he struggled with the decision, Wy gave up hunting the day he decided to propose, he didn't want what happened to his mother to happen to his wife to be. His father was furious, hunting was the family legacy and his father always believed hunting should come first, that it was their duty. He and his father had a huge fight and they didn't speak for months. His father didn't even show up to the wedding and a few weeks later a fellow hunter called to tell him his father had been killed raiding a vampire nest. Losing his father was difficult but his wife helped him get through it. Although he had given up hunting he still trained like a hunter, always expecting something to come after him or Jenny and eventually it did.

He was working a late shift one night when he got the call, Jenny's body had been found in a park, exsanguinated. He was informed that the baby hadn't survived either, they hadn't known about the pregnancy and he tries not to think about it as one loss was hard enough. The news broke him, he had lost everything that mattered by trying to protect them from hunter life. He quit his job and spent months drinking, grieving and tracking down the vampire that had killed his wife. When he did find the vampire, he killed it in the slowest and cruelest way he could after finding out why it had come after him and his wife. Turns out the vampire didn't even know who he was, Jenny had been a random choice and the vampire had simply been hungry that night. After that he found a new hunting party and became an even more dedicated hunter than before, it has become what he lives for. He hunts to keep the violence and tragedy away from others, those who know nothing about the monsters out there. He takes solace in his kills, every vampire he puts down is a monster that will never destroy another life. He lives a nomadic existence, keeping in contact only with other hunters, those who have made the choice to allow danger in their lives, mainly to learn of towns and cities with a vampire problem. Wyatt doesn’t put down roots, he tries not to make connections with regular people because he can’t handle the burden of bringing danger into their lives; so he keeps moving, he drinks to numb his pain, throws himself into danger to feel something other than grief and loneliness and his stubbornness allows him to convince himself that he’s doing the right thing.

Iron Tribe MC (Epic Crime Saga - Always Open)

Iggy

---

---

---

---

| Full Name |
Ignatius Spirit Sullivan

| Nickname |
Ig, Iggy, Sullivan/Sully, anything but his full name

| Age |
32

| Gender |
Male

| Sexuality |
Hetero

| Religion |
Atheist

| Relationship Status |
Single

| Relatives |
Donna “Gypsy” Sullivan-Mother (Deceased)
Sage Fleetwood Sullivan-Brother (Prison)
Tranquil Rayne Sullivan-Sister (Lives in Phoenix, estranged)

| Rank |
Patch

| Main Racket |
Drugs, Racketeering, Protection

| Occupation |
Tattoo Artist

| Ink |

Hider

| Bike | Harley Davidson Dyna Street Bob

Hider

| Patches |
Ig’s leather vest consists of a 3 piece back piece; the Iron Tribe rocker on the top, the club emblem in the center with an Asada Nevada rocker underneath the emblem. The emblem is flanked on the left with a diamond shaped 1% patch and on the right with a MC patch. The front of his cut also sports the numbers 13 and 22 signifying his affinity with drugs and his time in prison. US Army Combat Veteran patch on the left breast, with the club emblem and name on the left front breast as well.

| History |
Ig is the youngest son of Donna Sullivan, a woman who earned the nickname Gypsy due to her free-spirited lifestyle. His mother, a new age wiccan, saddled all three children with what many would describe as “hippie names,” and ever since Ig can remember he has hated being called “Ignatius.” His siblings and him were all fathered by different sire’s but Ig being the youngest never met his older sibling’s fathers and his own father was out of the picture before Ig was old enough to remember anything about him. His early childhood was spent on a commune, raised by a community of “free spirited hippie throw backs”, he had very few rules to follow as a child, but was frequently punished with “mediation time” whenever he expressed any form of anger.

His mom left the commune when it started getting a little too cult-like and they ended up living in Las Vegas. It wasn’t long before they were living with his mom’s new boyfriend, a Hell’s Angel who went by Roark, and became a surrogate father to Ig and his siblings. Ig would happily run back and forth to the fridge bringing the old biker beers as he told Ig and his older brother stories of his time in the army, of his adventures with the Hell’s Angels, or even just watching old movies. Ig especially loved the movie Easy Rider, a favorite of Roark’s, and one that sparked his love of motorcycles. Eventually Roark ended up in prison and they ended up moving around again.

With the exception of Vegas, they rarely stayed in one city for very long. Sometimes they went to traditional school and other times they were homeschooled, neither Ig nor his siblings ever graduated high school. Sometimes they lived in run down houses or cheap apartments and other times homeless, his mom struggled to support them. His eldest brother left at sixteen, ended up joining a street gang, and most recently ended up in prison for attempted murder. His sister worked as a waitress and spent a lot of time trying to get her GED and then went on to nursing school. At sixteen Ig started working under the table at a tattoo shop to save up for a bike, something he had wanted since he was a child. Eventually one of the artists took him on as an apprentice and after a few years he became a tattoo artist himself.

Eventually he grew restless with his almost normal life and at twenty Ig joined the army. He’s proud of service, wouldn’t take it back for anything but all in all he eventually realized it was too constricting for him. Ig needed freedom, craved it, so after six years he left, went back to riding and doing tattoo’s, moving around a lot trying to find a place that was interesting enough to become a home. It wasn’t too long after his time in the army that he settled in Asada, Nevada. He started tattooing there and ended up getting a lot of work from a biker gang, The Iron Tribe, and it wasn’t long before he was prospecting. It wasn’t long after becoming a fully patched member that he was convicted of assault charges after getting into it with a rival club encroaching on their territory. Ig did three years in prison for the Iron Tribe, proving his loyalty to the club. While in prison he found out his mother died of a heroin overdose. Now having been released a few months ago, he’s more than ready to whatever needs done for the tribe.

| Extra Information |
Smokes Marlboro reds, loves bourbon and a good fight, adrenalin junkie, and more than willing to do what needs to be done for his new family, Iron Tribe. He has a soft spot for dogs and recently took in an old black lab, with a gray around its eyes and muzzle, that he found hanging around a bar he frequents.

Iron Tribe MC (Epic Crime Saga - Always Open)

Iggy

---

---

---

---

| Full Name |
Ignatius Spirit Sullivan

| Nickname |
Ig, Iggy, Sullivan/Sully, anything but his full name

| Age |
32

| Gender |
Male

| Sexuality |
Hetero

| Religion |
Atheist

| Relationship Status |
Single

| Relatives |
Donna “Gypsy” Sullivan-Mother (Deceased)
Sage Fleetwood Sullivan-Brother (Prison)
Tranquil Rayne Sullivan-Sister (Lives in Phoenix, estranged)

| Rank |
Patch

| Main Racket |
Drugs, Racketeering, Protection

| Occupation |
Tattoo Artist

| Ink |

Hider

| Bike | Harley Davidson Dyna Street Bob

Hider

| Patches |
Ig’s leather vest consists of a 3 piece back piece; the Iron Tribe rocker on the top, the club emblem in the center with an Asada Nevada rocker underneath the emblem. The emblem is flanked on the left with a diamond shaped 1% patch and on the right with a MC patch. The front of his cut also sports the numbers 13 and 22 signifying his affinity with drugs and his time in prison. US Army Combat Veteran patch on the left breast, with the club emblem and name on the left front breast as well.

| History |
Ig is the youngest son of Donna Sullivan, a woman who earned the nickname Gypsy due to her free-spirited lifestyle. His mother, a new age wiccan, saddled all three children with what many would describe as “hippie names,” and ever since Ig can remember he has hated being called “Ignatius.” His siblings and him were all fathered by different sire’s but Ig being the youngest never met his older sibling’s fathers and his own father was out of the picture before Ig was old enough to remember anything about him. His early childhood was spent on a commune, raised by a community of “free spirited hippie throw backs”, he had very few rules to follow as a child, but was frequently punished with “mediation time” whenever he expressed any form of anger.

His mom left the commune when it started getting a little too cult-like and they ended up living in Las Vegas. It wasn’t long before they were living with his mom’s new boyfriend, a Hell’s Angel who went by Roark, and became a surrogate father to Ig and his siblings. Ig would happily run back and forth to the fridge bringing the old biker beers as he told Ig and his older brother stories of his time in the army, of his adventures with the Hell’s Angels, or even just watching old movies. Ig especially loved the movie Easy Rider, a favorite of Roark’s, and one that sparked his love of motorcycles. Eventually Roark ended up in prison and they ended up moving around again.

With the exception of Vegas, they rarely stayed in one city for very long. Sometimes they went to traditional school and other times they were homeschooled, neither Ig nor his siblings ever graduated high school. Sometimes they lived in run down houses or cheap apartments and other times homeless, his mom struggled to support them. His eldest brother left at sixteen, ended up joining a street gang, and most recently ended up in prison for attempted murder. His sister worked as a waitress and spent a lot of time trying to get her GED and then went on to nursing school. At sixteen Ig started working under the table at a tattoo shop to save up for a bike, something he had wanted since he was a child. Eventually one of the artists took him on as an apprentice and after a few years he became a tattoo artist himself.

Eventually he grew restless with his almost normal life and at twenty Ig joined the army. He’s proud of service, wouldn’t take it back for anything but all in all he eventually realized it was too constricting for him. Ig needed freedom, craved it, so after six years he left, went back to riding and doing tattoo’s, moving around a lot trying to find a place that was interesting enough to become a home. It wasn’t too long after his time in the army that he settled in Asada, Nevada. He started tattooing there and ended up getting a lot of work from a biker gang, The Iron Tribe, and it wasn’t long before he was prospecting. It wasn’t long after becoming a fully patched member that he was convicted of assault charges after getting into it with a rival club encroaching on their territory. Ig did three years in prison for the Iron Tribe, proving his loyalty to the club. While in prison he found out his mother died of a heroin overdose. Now having been released a few months ago, he’s more than ready to whatever needs done for the tribe.

| Extra Information |
Smokes Marlboro reds, loves bourbon and a good fight, adrenalin junkie, and more than willing to do what needs to be done for his new family, Iron Tribe. He has a soft spot for dogs and recently took in an old black lab, with a gray around its eyes and muzzle, that he found hanging around a bar he frequents.

Wᴇ Aʀᴇ Tʜᴇ Cʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ

Eli

---

---

---

---

| Full Name |
Elias Jonathan Kincaid

| Nickname |
Eli, EJ

| Age |
17

| Gender |
Male

| Sexuality |
Hetero

| Appearance |
Eli stands at 6’ with a toned and athletic build, tanned skin, blond hair, and green eyes. He usually has a friendly smile and calm inviting presence. He is rarely completely still, fidgeting, pacing, knuckle cracking, or finger drumming, when things are calmer than what he’s used to. His bright green eyes are usually accompanied by bags ever since the experiment. His clothes are normally second hand, already showing signs of wear before they were ever his, jeans ripped and distressed by previous owners, old t-shirts and flannels, sneakers that are often held together by duct tape, and an old army jacket from a surplus store. He has a small collection of scars; one above his left eye from a car he crashed into a tree, a circular burn on his right shoulder from a cigarette put out on him by another kid, and a thick scar along his left forearm from a bad break as a child.

| Likes |
-Live music and the energy from a great show
-Food, especially spicy food
-The Outdoors
-Hot/Warm weather
-Thunderstorms
-Action Movies
-Reading
-Making others happy
-New experiences
-A hot coffee and a cigarette

| Dislikes |
-Cold Weather
-Crowds
-Failure
-Moral ambiguity
-Shitty people
-Bologna and Spam his least favorite food
-Cops
-Being treated like he’s stupid
-Having no control/choice
-Being used as an experiment and then being expected to kill his peers without just cause

| Fears |
Claustrophobia
Failure
Being helpless
Being too attached or too reliant on another

| Personality |

Loyal/ Brash/ Resilient/ Stubborn/ Idealistic/ Naïve/

As a kid, Eli was always drawn to stories of heroes; knights, soldiers, cowboys, demigods, and those with superpowers. With his imagination captured by tales of valor and perseverance he always strived to emulate those fictional characters he admired. He has a very black and white view of the world and doesn’t care for ambiguity and gray areas. Eli is stubborn, it takes a lot to change his mind and he doesn’t always listen to reason. He is a man of action, indecisiveness doesn’t suit him, and once he picks a course of action he usually sticks with it and rarely likes to try something else. His plans are rarely well thought out, fueled by impulsiveness and a desire to prove himself. Eli desperately wants to prove himself, to show the world that he’s more than his rough start in life.

He’s friendly and outgoing, Eli likes getting to know new people and to those he likes he is very loyal. He is quick to trust people, he tends to see the good in most people but rarely allows anyone to win his trust back once lost. He keeps high expectations of both himself and others especially when it comes to morality. He has his own moral code, for example he would consider it wrong to steal from an individual but wouldn’t think twice about shoplifting from a large store. He likes to get to know people and although he can talk for hours he rarely lets people get too close. His whole life he has always kept others at a distance; it makes things easier if he has to leave, or if they leave.

Eli likes to help people, to make them laugh or smile, to just be there to make things easier for someone else if he can. He’s willing to do something stupid or goofy to make another smile, to give someone the shirt off his back if they need it, and to have a friend’s back when things get real. Although violence isn’t his first choice he wouldn’t back down from a fight and he’s willing to throw himself in the line of fire to help another. He is an optimistic and idealistic man who wants to leave the world better than how he found, to leave a mark even if it’s anonymously.

| Ability |
Electrokenesis; the ability to manipulate and generate electricity.

| Limitations |
Currently Eli needs direct contact or contact through a strong conductor to affect people, so he can’t just shoot lightning from his fingers like some kind of Sith. He can generate electrical energy through his own body allowing him to shock people though his touch, with enough force to kill or incapacitate them or just enough to give only a mild static shock. Generally, skin to skin contact with Eli gives people at least a small shock. He has more control when calm than he does upset, and his powers rarely work right in the rain, the worse the storm the more unpredictable his ability to use his power is.

| History |
Eli was born to a young mother; one far too young to be ready for the responsibility of parenthood. His mother had been pregnant at sixteen, his father, whoever he was, had never really be in the picture to begin with and his mother was on her own after being kicked out by her own overly religious parents. His mother ended up working at strip club, ended up involved in drugs, heroin, and died of an overdose when he was five. His overly religious grandparents were not interested in taking care of their daughters “mistakes” so Eli mainly grew up in foster care or group homes.

His childhood was made up of constant change and almost no stability, having to adjust to different homes with different rules and adults exercising constantly varying levels of control over him. His mother had enforced almost no rules and adjusting to living different foster homes was difficult for the first few years. Eventually he learned how to adjust, how to fly under the radar in homes with many other children, how to stay mainly unnoticed. The homes he stayed in were often crowded and chaotic, while his basic needs were usually met it was usually the bare minimum but there were plenty of other kids who had it worse and Eli isn’t really the type to complain. There were a few occasions where he’d run away and try and live on the streets which usually ended with him being picked up by cops or caught shoplifting and then sent to a new foster home.

Eli started off as a pudgy, awkward, kid who just barely got by when it came to school work but who spent a lot of his free time reading and hanging around the local library. Before hitting his teenage years, he was frequently picked on for being overweight, wearing second hand clothes, and being poor. Around thirteen thought his growth spurts started, he thinned out and took up an interest in sports and after school activities. The longer he had to be at school, the longer he could be away from his foster homes. He went from pudgy and awkward to athletic and confident, putting all his energy and frustration into sports. He managed to pull his grades up some as well. As he grew closer to eighteen and to freedom he put a lot of thought into the best plan to be able to take care of himself, knowing he didn’t really have anyone to help support him and not wanting to end up a bum or a criminal.

Eli’s plans after graduation were to join the army, save up money, and eventually become a chef. He had been discussing options with a local recruiter, he was set to enlist after graduation and excited about doing something that he could be proud of. When his name was chosen, it was not fear that he felt but pride and excitement, he was going to be someone who mattered, one of six, he was going to do great thing and for once he had a future laid out in front of him. While the others had parents, who cried over the thought of being separated from their kids, his foster parents worried about losing the monthly check they got for housing him. Eli wasn’t worried about missing them either, as for the friends he had; Eli had never allowed himself to become too attached to them either, he was more used to people casually entering and leaving his life to ever find himself too attached.

Eli was more than ready to follow orders, to become stronger and more self-reliant, and to become a super solider. The gas that changed him was of course painful, it burned as he inhaled it and made every cell in his body feel as if it was on fire but Eli endured. Transformation was painful, it was work. He trained tirelessly to hone his newfound abilities, excitedly awaiting the day when he would be sent on missions. The thought of being a super solider made him think of the comics he read as a kid, he wanted to be like his childhood hero Captain America only to have the rug pulled out from under him when he learned of their final test. Anger and disillusionment consumed him, his own government, people he had lied to him, they had told him he could be a hero but there was nothing heroic about killing innocent children. It was like something out of a dystopian teen novel and Eli would have nothing to do with it. The only thing left to do was escape and now that he’s free the only thing he can think about is revenge and making sure this shadowy government agency doesn’t do the same thing to a new group of kids.

| Miscellaneous |
Usually always has a pack of cards, gum, and cigarettes on him as well a lighter. He’s always wanted to learn how to drive a car, tried it once, a joyride with a car from one of his foster homes and immediately crashed into a tree in the front yard.

Wᴇ Aʀᴇ Tʜᴇ Cʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ

@Hushed Whispers

Eli

---

---

---

---

| Full Name |
Elias Jonathan Kincaid

| Nickname |
Eli, EJ

| Age |
17

| Gender |
Male

| Sexuality |
Hetero

| Appearance |
Eli stands at 6’ with a toned and athletic build, tanned skin, blond hair, and green eyes. He usually has a friendly smile and calm inviting presence. He is rarely completely still, fidgeting, pacing, knuckle cracking, or finger drumming, when things are calmer than what he’s used to. His bright green eyes are usually accompanied by bags ever since the experiment. His clothes are normally second hand, already showing signs of wear before they were ever his, jeans ripped and distressed by previous owners, old t-shirts and flannels, sneakers that are often held together by duct tape, and an old army jacket from a surplus store. He has a small collection of scars; one above his left eye from a car he crashed into a tree, a circular burn on his right shoulder from a cigarette put out on him by another kid, and a thick scar along his left forearm from a bad break as a child.

| Likes |
-Live music and the energy from a great show
-Food, especially spicy food
-The Outdoors
-Hot/Warm weather
-Thunderstorms
-Action Movies
-Reading
-Making others happy
-New experiences
-A hot coffee and a cigarette

| Dislikes |
-Cold Weather
-Crowds
-Failure
-Moral ambiguity
-Shitty people
-Bologna and Spam his least favorite food
-Cops
-Being treated like he’s stupid
-Having no control/choice
-Being used as an experiment and then being expected to kill his peers without just cause

| Fears |
Claustrophobia
Failure
Being helpless
Being too attached or too reliant on another

| Personality |

Loyal/ Brash/ Resilient/ Stubborn/ Idealistic/ Naïve/

As a kid, Eli was always drawn to stories of heroes; knights, soldiers, cowboys, demigods, and those with superpowers. With his imagination captured by tales of valor and perseverance he always strived to emulate those fictional characters he admired. He has a very black and white view of the world and doesn’t care for ambiguity and gray areas. Eli is stubborn, it takes a lot to change his mind and he doesn’t always listen to reason. He is a man of action, indecisiveness doesn’t suit him, and once he picks a course of action he usually sticks with it and rarely likes to try something else. His plans are rarely well thought out, fueled by impulsiveness and a desire to prove himself. Eli desperately wants to prove himself, to show the world that he’s more than his rough start in life.

He’s friendly and outgoing, Eli likes getting to know new people and to those he likes he is very loyal. He is quick to trust people, he tends to see the good in most people but rarely allows anyone to win his trust back once lost. He keeps high expectations of both himself and others especially when it comes to morality. He has his own moral code, for example he would consider it wrong to steal from an individual but wouldn’t think twice about shoplifting from a large store. He likes to get to know people and although he can talk for hours he rarely lets people get too close. His whole life he has always kept others at a distance; it makes things easier if he has to leave, or if they leave.

Eli likes to help people, to make them laugh or smile, to just be there to make things easier for someone else if he can. He’s willing to do something stupid or goofy to make another smile, to give someone the shirt off his back if they need it, and to have a friend’s back when things get real. Although violence isn’t his first choice he wouldn’t back down from a fight and he’s willing to throw himself in the line of fire to help another. He is an optimistic and idealistic man who wants to leave the world better than how he found, to leave a mark even if it’s anonymously.

| Ability |
Electrokenesis; the ability to manipulate and generate electricity.

| Limitations |
Currently Eli needs direct contact or contact through a strong conductor to affect people, so he can’t just shoot lightning from his fingers like some kind of Sith. He can generate electrical energy through his own body allowing him to shock people though his touch, with enough force to kill or incapacitate them or just enough to give only a mild static shock. Generally, skin to skin contact with Eli gives people at least a small shock. He has more control when calm than he does upset, and his powers rarely work right in the rain, the worse the storm the more unpredictable his ability to use his power is.

| History |
Eli was born to a young mother; one far too young to be ready for the responsibility of parenthood. His mother had been pregnant at sixteen, his father, whoever he was, had never really be in the picture to begin with and his mother was on her own after being kicked out by her own overly religious parents. His mother ended up working at strip club, ended up involved in drugs, heroin, and died of an overdose when he was five. His overly religious grandparents were not interested in taking care of their daughters “mistakes” so Eli mainly grew up in foster care or group homes.

His childhood was made up of constant change and almost no stability, having to adjust to different homes with different rules and adults exercising constantly varying levels of control over him. His mother had enforced almost no rules and adjusting to living different foster homes was difficult for the first few years. Eventually he learned how to adjust, how to fly under the radar in homes with many other children, how to stay mainly unnoticed. The homes he stayed in were often crowded and chaotic, while his basic needs were usually met it was usually the bare minimum but there were plenty of other kids who had it worse and Eli isn’t really the type to complain. There were a few occasions where he’d run away and try and live on the streets which usually ended with him being picked up by cops or caught shoplifting and then sent to a new foster home.

Eli started off as a pudgy, awkward, kid who just barely got by when it came to school work but who spent a lot of his free time reading and hanging around the local library. Before hitting his teenage years, he was frequently picked on for being overweight, wearing second hand clothes, and being poor. Around thirteen thought his growth spurts started, he thinned out and took up an interest in sports and after school activities. The longer he had to be at school, the longer he could be away from his foster homes. He went from pudgy and awkward to athletic and confident, putting all his energy and frustration into sports. He managed to pull his grades up some as well. As he grew closer to eighteen and to freedom he put a lot of thought into the best plan to be able to take care of himself, knowing he didn’t really have anyone to help support him and not wanting to end up a bum or a criminal.

Eli’s plans after graduation were to join the army, save up money, and eventually become a chef. He had been discussing options with a local recruiter, he was set to enlist after graduation and excited about doing something that he could be proud of. When his name was chosen, it was not fear that he felt but pride and excitement, he was going to be someone who mattered, one of six, he was going to do great thing and for once he had a future laid out in front of him. While the others had parents, who cried over the thought of being separated from their kids, his foster parents worried about losing the monthly check they got for housing him. Eli wasn’t worried about missing them either, as for the friends he had; Eli had never allowed himself to become too attached to them either, he was more used to people casually entering and leaving his life to ever find himself too attached.

Eli was more than ready to follow orders, to become stronger and more self-reliant, and to become a super solider. The gas that changed him was of course painful, it burned as he inhaled it and made every cell in his body feel as if it was on fire but Eli endured. Transformation was painful, it was work. He trained tirelessly to hone his newfound abilities, excitedly awaiting the day when he would be sent on missions. The thought of being a super solider made him think of the comics he read as a kid, he wanted to be like his childhood hero Captain America only to have the rug pulled out from under him when he learned of their final test. Anger and disillusionment consumed him, his own government, people he had lied to him, they had told him he could be a hero but there was nothing heroic about killing innocent children. It was like something out of a dystopian teen novel and Eli would have nothing to do with it. The only thing left to do was escape and now that he’s free the only thing he can think about is revenge and making sure this shadowy government agency doesn’t do the same thing to a new group of kids.

| Miscellaneous |
Usually always has a pack of cards, gum, and cigarettes on him as well a lighter. He’s always wanted to learn how to drive a car, tried it once, a joyride with a car from one of his foster homes and immediately crashed into a tree in the front yard.