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The Curse of Crestwood Hollow - A Hyperhuman Story [CLOSED]

Dex

Dex

_______________________________________________ Dexter Quinto _______________________________________________ July 15th | 17 | Caucasian _______________________________________________ Single | ♂ | Casual _______________________________________________ High School | Student _______________________________________________ Physical Profile ___________________________________ [+] //Basics: • Height | 5'10" • Weight | 174lbs • Build | Averagely athletic. • Hair Colour | Brown • Eye Colour | Hazel Miscellaneous Items ___________________________________ [+] //Every Day Carry: • N/A | Nothing here that the average seventeen year old wouldn't have.

A p p e a r a n c e D e t a i l s "Dress like you're going to get laid, even if you're not." Dexter takes pride in his presentable appearance and overall it's no wonder he is leading the race for "Best take home to parents" senior superlative. Dex always dresses with a 'smart-casual' look to him. He tends to gravitate towards henley shirts, flannels, jeans or khakis, and closed toed shoes. During the colder days, he tends to like to dress with tasteful use of leather. He's renowned for oftentimes shopping with his mother (sometimes earning him a title of a 'mama's boy'), but it has paid off with well fitting clothing and a top notch sense of what looks good and what doesn't. To top it all off, the guy even manages to smell good regularly. Fancy that? Dexter stands at around 5'10, putting him comfortably in the upper-average range for a male in the USA. While he might not stand out as the most straight up attractive man in town, he is certainly doing well for himself and often makes a large effort to look as presentable as possible by wearing formal clothing. Dress shirts, dress pants, dress shoes, blazer, and a tie are common attire. He's not jock-muscular, but he's got a masculine and youthful physique, which certainly earns him some bonus points. Catching Dexter looking mussed up is like spotting a unicorn, and oftentimes if he is off his game, everyone else is too.

_{P e r s o n a l i t y}

Dex has always been a 'golden boy'. He doesn't jump out as particularly good as much as he listens more than he speaks. He treats everyone around him well, asks people how their shifts and days have been, buys people lunch. Stuff like that. Some would say that he was the Jay Leno of FAMA because he doesn't bother anyone, and that's usually a spot on argument. Dexter just doesn't have any reason to piss people off. He's somehow managed to have pretty good or neutral relations with just about everyone and avoids the inevitable drama of working with people in close proximity.

Dexter is a people person, and the reason why is that almost every part of him is generally genuine. He tends to have a trustworthy and confidence vibe because of his wonderful bedside manner and as far as most are aware he's never gone behind someone's back. Dexter's persona in conversation is humble and quietly intelligent, preferring to act ignorant and allow the other person to speak rather than show his knowledge unless asked for his opinion. He's not the smartest person around but if his ability to dress is anything to go by he's certainly a candidate for one of the hardest working.

Overall Dexter would be defined as 'good man', almost suspiciously so. He pays his rent, does his taxes, and doesnt owe a cent to anyone- preferring to pay off any debt as soon as possible. His home has full filing cabinets of bank, payment, and tax histories for both himself and his mother- and he's a straight shooter when it comes to getting things done. His home is tidy and there isn't a speck of dust to be found. Dexter is also the one who is most "on top of things," and who does the most to, "keep things in line," compared with the others on the team. He is often the most stubborn and disciplined, and is the one who often displays the most strict self-controlled behavior- oftentimes unwilling to change it or himself.

However despite Dexter's overall strict demeanor compared with the others, there are times when he lets loose. He is more authoritative than authoritarian, and is more than willing to bend the rules if it becomes necessary. In addition he has no difficulty with expressing attraction, earning jests from his peers for being a horn-dog. In reality though, Dexter is exceedingly polite and takes rejection with grace. In the event that it is reciprocated though, his normal disciplined personality becomes evident and he reverts back to it, which often results in endings of his dating experiences.

_{C h a r a c t e r S y n o p s i s}

Dexter was raised under a set of ideals: A warrior's spirit; a servant's heart; a fun-loving attitude.

Dexter was born into a middle class home in Crestwood Hollow to a fairly youthful marriage. A year after Dexter was born, his little sister came into the world. Unfortunately, due to the unfortunate circumstances, his sister was born with a plethora of crippling health problems. As Dexter grew up, he was taught many lifelong lessons by his family and sister. Namely, patience and empathy, as she was confined to a wheel chair. His sister's various disabilities and sickly predisposition made it impossible for him and his family to live a conventionally normal life for a long time. Just when things were starting to even out at the start of middle school, Dexter's father passed away while commuting home from work- killed in a car crash. Worse yet, his sister's breathing apparatus suffered a malfunction only a few months later. With her brain starved of oxygen, Dexter's sister had been left brain dead. The already broken family was forced to make another heart wrenching choice, and then the family of four had been down to two.

The family was never the same after that. Him and his mother bonded over such a time of trial, and he deeply cares for his mother as a result. He picked up his dad's dusty old guitar and began reading like his sister. It didn't fill the void they left behind, but it was a coping mechanism that worked and helped. Neither Dexter nor his mother let their loved ones' passing slow them down forever, choosing instead to live on happily in their names. Dexter and his mother still live relatively happy and somewhat normal lives all things considered. Due to health and life insurances his family had put in place before any of the incidents, what was left of his family was left very financially stable. They still remain in the same house, but as a result Dexter has been given the opportunity to get his Private Pilot's license through high school and plans to attend a renowned flight school for college. Due to the necessary evil of commuting (since Crestwood Hollow does not have any flight schools in the town), he and his mother purchased a car for his own personal use.

A cherry red 1967 Mazda Miata. It's a lifestyle, baby.

So, yeah. Shit happens, and sometimes he wished it had happened to someone else. Life dealt him some shitty cards and he focused more on mastering his hand than complaining about a cruddy deck. He was pretty happy through high school- made easy friends with most people, got a car, worked hard, got good grades, found a passion for music and work, and noticed that 'hey that some girls are actually really cute.'

Life has a way of raising you up just to drop you back down again. The loss of one of his closest friends only a short time after coming to terms with his family's loss has not been good to him. Time will tell moving forwards.

_{A b i l i t i e s & S k i l l s}

_//Abilities:

Hyper-Human Ability | Super-Hot
Dexter's hyperhuman ability can be summarized in two words: "Go fast."

Simply put, Dexter has a plethora of secondary abilities that function as one that allow him to move faster than the human eye can track for short bursts and run at speeds capable of easily outpacing even the most high end automobiles for a longer distance. In order to keep up with his body, Dexter's mind is able to read, interpret and process at a incredible speed allowing him to perceive and react to the world far more quickly than any human. His reflexes react much faster than a normal, having barely any lag or dead time before he reacts to the world around him. He perceives the world in a form of 'bullet time', and a great example of this would be that he perceives a bullet being shot at him in the same way that a normal person sees a 95mph fastball being thrown at them. This means that generally speaking his awareness of a potential problem is the most limiting factor when it comes to reacting to said problem. His metabolism likewise is also much faster, dissolving absolutely heroic amounts of food in short time frames leaving Dexter in nearly a perpetual state of hunger. Due to this accelerated state of being, wounds close and heal much faster.

Furthermore, moving at incredible speeds puts an enormous toll on the body and in a normal one would tear Dexter apart. However this is not that case as Dexter is proportionally much, much stronger and more durable than the average human. This enables Dexter to exert himself in the ways that he does, and allows for the absolutely monumental forces placed on his body to be dealt with in a relatively safe manner.

Weakness(es) | Dexter's most damning, and most dangerous Achilles heel is what is known as a 'runners high'. Simply put, the longer Dexter goes, the worse it will be when he stops. Prolonged encounters requiring constant and regular use of his super speed in more than a simply reactionary manner will make him crash, and crash hard. Even stopping for a moment could put him out of a skirmish, and to compound this further the more he uses his ability the more the taxes his body's resources. He can quite literally run himself into the ground, and when the body is so dehydrated and starved the stress of doing so could very well not be someone one can recover from.

In terms of limitations, no matter how fast or strong he is, Dexter still has to deal with the physical forces of nature. Meaning that while he can accelerate extremely quickly, running at three hundred and change miles an hour comes with a few drawbacks. Dexter cant brake one a dime, nor can he change direction on one. Moving extremely fast means wide turns and a pretty good distance required to stop. Dexter can survive high speed collisions, but doing so could cripple him for life.

_//Skills:

Cooking | Dexter's mom went through her fair share of recovery after their loss, and still does from time to time. As a result, there has been a number of times where he was left to fend for himself. He's found a pretty good amount of joy in cooking, and while he's no master chef, he'd be lying if he said he hadn't watched a fair number of cooking programs.

Aviation | His family is very well off, and Dexter has started his journey into aviation. He is certified and trained to fly aircraft. His training has made him adept at multitasking, and exceptional in a crisis.

Outdoor's Man | Years of curiosity has landed him in the wild and in some fairly compromising positions. He's fairly adept as an outdoor's man. He is very familiar with most species of animals and plants in all areas of this area of the USA and knows all of the constellations and other celestial objects in the sky. In addition to this, he is also extremely proficient with a rifle.

_{O T H E R}

Song tbd

---

Soldiers of Fortune

_Iulian

---

"It’s a classic pincer maneuver used to great effect in the Siege of Maceron. Any arguments?”

”We also need to consider when this attack occurs. I think a night or early morning ambush. It gives us more cover. And a higher likelihood that the guards won’t be as attentive.”

"What are the odds the numbers of the bandits are accurate?"

The priest had the right idea.

From the beginning the most prominent teaching engrained into his head was to use the nature of the beast against it. Vampires craved blood. Lycans feared silver. Bandits loved gold. In a way it was like a dance or a game- but one was trying to outpace the other. In his trade, staying a step ahead and ensuring that one's plan was followed to the letter was imperative to survival. Hunters like himself relied on it, when strength and speed and skill was no longer enough, until they slowed and then died.

The archers would thin the numbers, but the the warriors would control the fight. Setting the tone for the battle from on the ground or the watch tower should they hole themselves up. Man and monster were not so different, and Irae seemed to share his sentiment on what the bandits would want. The fairy did too, at least for the battle. The orc addressed a legitimate concern, though. Should their plan deviate for even a moment, they could very well all end up dead. They may have the element of surprise, but these highwaymen had the home field advantage.

"Dusk would be good," Iulian commented, crossing his burly arms across his chest. "Low light will allow the archers and climbers to get into position." His next statement was a calculated risk, and he knew it. "These bandits may be looking for caravans, but these are still thieves. I could pose as bait, some may be inclined to come to me." He explained. Such an evolution could land him in a compromising position, outnumbered and potentially injured, but that's what the archers were for.

"They might even go further if we can make it convincing. I can take care of a few unprepared men. Thin the numbers, and act as a distraction so that the others may fulfill their roles better."

Soldiers of Fortune

Iulian

Name: Iulian Demeas

Age: 28

Race: Jikari Human

Gender/Pronouns: Him/His

Appearance:

Iulian is, without a doubt, one of the most solidly built people one could ever meet. While not particularly enormous in stature, standing just shy of 5'11, he is solid as a rock. He is broad shouldered and stocky, like a silverback gorilla stuffed into a man's body- easily surpassing two hundred and thirty pounds of muscle which flows from his legs to torso around shoulders to arms and full strong neck in an uninterrupted, unemphatic unity of strength.

Iulian's face has the makings of what one would consider attractive, with high cheekbones and a squared jaw, but any hint of suave lady killer has been lost to years and years of the hunt. Replaced instead with a more ghoulish appearance that some may say has its own roguish charm. His mouth is like a knife, and his face like a blade, his smile the flicker of light across a dagger revealing long canines and a rough tongue. His hair was long and tangled and greasy when hung down, concealing a face so scarred with old wounds it was impossible to tell where one began and another ended. His nose had been battered to his cheekbones; his heavy forehead nearly lost in a fierce tangle of eyebrows; but one can always see his eyes shining through like he was behind vines- as they glow with some sort of supernatural iridescence even in total darkness. Unlike most Jikari who are known for their deep olive tans and beautiful skin, there is surprisingly little color to Iulian's skin. It is white; not like another man’s white, but a white to make a body sick, a white to make a body’s flesh crawl - as if he hasn't seen the sun a day in his life.

Attire:
When in battle or simply traveling, Iulian wears armor that at first glance appears to be of fairly normal leather make. Thick and padded, protecting mainly the torso, forearms, and legs of the body and held together by adjustable buckles and straps rather than sewn into one cohesive piece. When pressed about this, Iulian will beam and heartily insist that after a good meal it can become rather uncomfortable and the adjustment is necessary. What is sewn into this armor however is genuine battle grade steel that protects the shins, upper arms, and stomach area. The steel is segmented rather than sheets, sacrificing a small amount of protection for greatly improved dexterity. The steel built into the armor's cuirass is layered into the leather armor and is largely obscured, but can be slotted in and out of the leather when the armor is removed from the wearer's body- allowing for relatively easy maintenance. The armor is kept in relatively good condition despite its near constant wear (functioning both for protection and daily travel wear) and is protected from the elements by a bear hide coat.

When the environment is not suitable to his standard wear or armor is inappropriate, Iulian wears a simple tunic and trousers with a traveler's cloak. Not one for fashion, and as a traveling blade he has little need for nice clothing, far preferring function to form.

Outward Personality:
Outwardly, Iulian is a fairly quiet man that manages a peculiar mixture of relaxed and energetic depending on how much alcohol is in his system. He's not particularly talkative, oftentimes politely refusing to talk about his life in the cult and the stories of his many hunts. However he is not unfriendly, regularly laughing along with the group or interacting and speaking his mind without necessarily speaking at all. He has a large presence and a forceful voice even if he rarely uses it, so when his does rise beyond that gravely undertone people listen.

Iulian's very nature is that of extremes as a result of the lycanthropy affecting his mind. When he does things, he does it with passion akin to that of a zealot, but when he cannot be bothered he really cannot be bothered. Lycans by their nature are prone to aggression, and his particular brand being that of a pack animal means that those he views distinctly below him in the pecking order might very well be ignored altogether if they get on his bad side. A man of the 'welps eat last' mentality, but far from a bully as many of his kind are. Years and years of channeling his aggression means that for the most part he does not lash out if it is not the heat of the moment, but the beast is still very much alive and well within him. If food is scarce or if tensions are high, Iulian is almost always one of the first to snap being predisposed to the primal entity inside him.

Bonds: Money and the thrill of the hunt. As seen in nature, predators just cant help themselves when something runs.

Goal: Iulian was raised with the mentality of 'find a mate and return with a child' driven into his head. He understands that this outlook is antiquated, and that forcing a person into the life he himself must live might not be the best thing to do in the rapidly changing world- so in the meantime amassing a decent sum of gold and finding someone worth fighting for along the way stands at the top of his list.

Character Flaws: Iulian is a lycan, and is constantly at odds with himself when it comes to managing his more primal desires. Prone to aggression and extreme acts, Iulian is particularly more volatile than the average soldier in spite of the benefits of his affliction. Trained medical experts and other monster slayers may recognize his affliction outright and treat him as the very kind of monster that he seeks to destroy. Iulian has and always will be combating the worlds view of him as a wolf in sheeps clothing- because he is just that: a monster pretending to be a man.

Backstory:

Iulian hails from a tribe, or cult of sell sword warriors that live deep in the savannas of Jikari. This tribe has no official name or banner beyond their uniting affliction, and is largely referred to as simply the generalized Misthios'. From a young age, children are inflicted with lycanthropy of the hyena strain- granting them great strength and supernatural stamina in exchange for a loss of control and permanent alteration of who they once were... and raised as warriors and monster hunters for hire. The men are the hunters and gatherers, and the women maintain leadership positions as the cult is matriarchal in nature. Many male lycans do not remain within the tribe for long after they have completed their two decades of training and set off on their own to spread word of their practices and to introduce fresh blood into the tribe when they return with mates.

This tribe, and Iulian, are entirely carnivorous as a result of generational lycanthropy changing their diets and natural builds to be more reflective of their animistic counterparts and are never in one place for more than a few weeks, instead traveling from place to place following game animals in their never-ending hunt. Iulian has been off and on his own for eight years traveling Tithe and solving problems. Rain or shine, sleet or snow, man or monster. As long as there's coin involved and a sense of direction, Iulian is not far away.

Skills: Iulian's nature as a lycan grants him great raw strength and reflex both in and out of his hybrid state, and phenomenal hearing, sight in the night, and smell. Furthermore the sheer power behind his jaws in hybridized form allows him to punch through armor like tissue paper and tear apart weapons, tools, and armor with relative ease. Furthermore Iulian is a skilled monster hunter, and is familiar with everything that can go bump in the night having spent every day of his life honing his craft. Finally Iulian's nature of living with danger has led him to become an alchemist that would make McGyver smile, and a field medic capable of field dressing most wounds that would otherwise be far worse or life threatening if left alone. Beyond this, Iulian is a skilled swordsman and an excellent tracker and scout, having spent most of his life hunting down things that do not want to be caught.

Magic: Iulian is a competent alchemist, specializing in field alchemy that oftentimes is used to magnify certain aspects of one's person to deal with particular threats. Iulian is not capable of making a person stronger, or faster than normal as the time and ingredients requires are not conducive to life on the road. Instead, his potions function to improve and limit physiological functions of the body. Examples of this would be improved night vision, slower lactic acid buildup, potions that slow heart rate to prevent blood loss or allow one to hold their breath for longer, concoctions that improve the blood's ability to coagulate, or introducing a compound to the blood that makes it dangerous to consume depending on the quarry. Because these potions are oftentimes made quickly and improvisational in nature they come with side effects that can be dangerous and even deadly if taken too much or compounded with other potions.

Weaponry: Iulian wields a silver long sword and a steel long sword, but only one at a time. He also carries a hunting knife and meathook for day to day chores and uses- these two are rarely used for much else.

Other: Wew lad music time

Soldiers of Fortune

Iulian

Name: Iulian Demeas

Age: 28

Race: Jikari Human

Gender/Pronouns: Him/His

Appearance:

Iulian is, without a doubt, one of the most solidly built people one could ever meet. While not particularly enormous in stature, standing just shy of 5'11, he is solid as a rock. He is broad shouldered and stocky, like a silverback gorilla stuffed into a man's body- easily surpassing two hundred and thirty pounds of muscle which flows from his legs to torso around shoulders to arms and full strong neck in an uninterrupted, unemphatic unity of strength.

Iulian's face has the makings of what one would consider attractive, with high cheekbones and a squared jaw, but any hint of suave lady killer has been lost to years and years of the hunt. Replaced instead with a more ghoulish appearance that some may say has its own roguish charm. His mouth is like a knife, and his face like a blade, his smile the flicker of light across a dagger revealing long canines and a rough tongue. His hair was long and tangled and greasy when hung down, concealing a face so scarred with old wounds it was impossible to tell where one began and another ended. His nose had been battered to his cheekbones; his heavy forehead nearly lost in a fierce tangle of eyebrows; but one can always see his eyes shining through like he was behind vines- as they glow with some sort of supernatural iridescence even in total darkness. Unlike most Jikari who are known for their deep olive tans and beautiful skin, there is surprisingly little color to Iulian's skin. It is white; not like another man’s white, but a white to make a body sick, a white to make a body’s flesh crawl - as if he hasn't seen the sun a day in his life.

Attire:
When in battle or simply traveling, Iulian wears armor that at first glance appears to be of fairly normal leather make. Thick and padded, protecting mainly the torso, forearms, and legs of the body and held together by adjustable buckles and straps rather than sewn into one cohesive piece. When pressed about this, Iulian will beam and heartily insist that after a good meal it can become rather uncomfortable and the adjustment is necessary. What is sewn into this armor however is genuine battle grade steel that protects the shins, upper arms, and stomach area. The steel is segmented rather than sheets, sacrificing a small amount of protection for greatly improved dexterity. The steel built into the armor's cuirass is layered into the leather armor and is largely obscured, but can be slotted in and out of the leather when the armor is removed from the wearer's body- allowing for relatively easy maintenance. The armor is kept in relatively good condition despite its near constant wear (functioning both for protection and daily travel wear) and is protected from the elements by a bear hide coat.

When the environment is not suitable to his standard wear or armor is inappropriate, Iulian wears a simple tunic and trousers with a traveler's cloak. Not one for fashion, and as a traveling blade he has little need for nice clothing, far preferring function to form.

Outward Personality:
Outwardly, Iulian is a fairly quiet man that manages a peculiar mixture of relaxed and energetic depending on how much alcohol is in his system. He's not particularly talkative, oftentimes politely refusing to talk about his life in the cult and the stories of his many hunts. However he is not unfriendly, regularly laughing along with the group or interacting and speaking his mind without necessarily speaking at all. He has a large presence and a forceful voice even if he rarely uses it, so when his does rise beyond that gravely undertone people listen.

Iulian's very nature is that of extremes as a result of the lycanthropy affecting his mind. When he does things, he does it with passion akin to that of a zealot, but when he cannot be bothered he really cannot be bothered. Lycans by their nature are prone to aggression, and his particular brand being that of a pack animal means that those he views distinctly below him in the pecking order might very well be ignored altogether if they get on his bad side. A man of the 'welps eat last' mentality, but far from a bully as many of his kind are. Years and years of channeling his aggression means that for the most part he does not lash out if it is not the heat of the moment, but the beast is still very much alive and well within him. If food is scarce or if tensions are high, Iulian is almost always one of the first to snap being predisposed to the primal entity inside him.

Bonds: Money and the thrill of the hunt. As seen in nature, predators just cant help themselves when something runs.

Goal: Iulian was raised with the mentality of 'find a mate and return with a child' driven into his head. He understands that this outlook is antiquated, and that forcing a person into the life he himself must live might not be the best thing to do in the rapidly changing world- so in the meantime amassing a decent sum of gold and finding someone worth fighting for along the way stands at the top of his list.

Character Flaws: Iulian is a lycan, and is constantly at odds with himself when it comes to managing his more primal desires. Prone to aggression and extreme acts, Iulian is particularly more volatile than the average soldier in spite of the benefits of his affliction. Trained medical experts and other monster slayers may recognize his affliction outright and treat him as the very kind of monster that he seeks to destroy. Iulian has and always will be combating the worlds view of him as a wolf in sheeps clothing- because he is just that: a monster pretending to be a man.

Backstory:

Iulian hails from a tribe, or cult of sell sword warriors that live deep in the savannas of Jikari. This tribe has no official name or banner beyond their uniting affliction, and is largely referred to as simply the generalized Misthios'. From a young age, children are inflicted with lycanthropy of the hyena strain- granting them great strength and supernatural stamina in exchange for a loss of control and permanent alteration of who they once were... and raised as warriors and monster hunters for hire. The men are the hunters and gatherers, and the women maintain leadership positions as the cult is matriarchal in nature. Many male lycans do not remain within the tribe for long after they have completed their two decades of training and set off on their own to spread word of their practices and to introduce fresh blood into the tribe when they return with mates.

This tribe, and Iulian, are entirely carnivorous as a result of generational lycanthropy changing their diets and natural builds to be more reflective of their animistic counterparts and are never in one place for more than a few weeks, instead traveling from place to place following game animals in their never-ending hunt. Iulian has been off and on his own for eight years traveling Tithe and solving problems. Rain or shine, sleet or snow, man or monster. As long as there's coin involved and a sense of direction, Iulian is not far away.

Skills: Iulian's nature as a lycan grants him great raw strength and reflex both in and out of his hybrid state, and phenomenal hearing, sight in the night, and smell. Furthermore the sheer power behind his jaws in hybridized form allows him to punch through armor like tissue paper and tear apart weapons, tools, and armor with relative ease. Furthermore Iulian is a skilled monster hunter, and is familiar with everything that can go bump in the night having spent every day of his life honing his craft. Finally Iulian's nature of living with danger has led him to become an alchemist that would make McGyver smile, and a field medic capable of field dressing most wounds that would otherwise be far worse or life threatening if left alone. Beyond this, Iulian is a skilled swordsman and an excellent tracker and scout, having spent most of his life hunting down things that do not want to be caught.

Magic: Iulian is a competent alchemist, specializing in field alchemy that oftentimes is used to magnify certain aspects of one's person to deal with particular threats. Iulian is not capable of making a person stronger, or faster than normal as the time and ingredients requires are not conducive to life on the road. Instead, his potions function to improve and limit physiological functions of the body. Examples of this would be improved night vision, slower lactic acid buildup, potions that slow heart rate to prevent blood loss or allow one to hold their breath for longer, concoctions that improve the blood's ability to coagulate, or introducing a compound to the blood that makes it dangerous to consume depending on the quarry. Because these potions are oftentimes made quickly and improvisational in nature they come with side effects that can be dangerous and even deadly if taken too much or compounded with other potions.

Weaponry: Iulian wields a silver long sword and a steel long sword, but only one at a time. He also carries a hunting knife and meathook for day to day chores and uses- these two are rarely used for much else.

Other: Wew lad music time

Soldiers of Fortune

@Skai

You like?

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

Kayla

---

Lyss' tone was laced with venom, biting and cold and to the point as she had always been. Thankfully, she had done a great deal of the talking, which was a good thing, because she seemed to stick to explaining the basics of exactly how the supernatural worked. A topic that Kayla herself still had a good deal to learn about despite her competence with her own abilities. Furthermore it allowed Kayla to dissect and diagnose what kind of person they were dealing with.

Blake was a pretty easy to read person. He was the type who was used to getting what they wanted and fuck whatever or whoever it took to get there. His questions were telling, relating to power and what it took to gain that power without necessarily recognizing the implications or risks of doing so. He was a vain man, and unable to recognize that folly at this time, especially now that he was angry due to the compounded nature of his wife. Phillis was drunk, and awakened now too, apparently. Lasers of sort splintered off her body in odd offshoots and refractions of light. Kayla supposed that if heat bothered her, the spindles of the woman's ability might have burnt or even made her uncomfortable.

But he wanted her out, and Kayla was not intending on throwing a man off the roof of his own building today.

"I'M REDACTING THE OFFER! ALL OF YOU, GET OUT OF HERE!"

_{"Retracting."} Kayla corrected, speaking low and quietly to herself and maybe Lyss. Things hadnt become violent yet and she intended to beat it before they did. Emily seemed ready to kill Izzy and Maya, but Kayla cleared her throat. Her silence having broken once again. "Izzy, Maya, Emily," she said, her tone dangerous as she spoke the last name. "Will you three please make the others aware that we'll be leaving shortly?" Because now is not the time for infighting.

She snapped her head back to Blake and Phillis, who seemed just as much at odds with one another as he did with her Coven. "Mr. Schmidt," she said, maintaining her icy tone. "I suspect you will be seeing more and more of us in the future. I hope that when we meet again, we will both be able to overlook and transgressions of this afternoon. If you change your mind in searching for supernatural enforcers or a trainer for your..." She nodded her head to Phillis "New supernatural body guard's abilities, that you will look me up."

Kayla stood, set her untouched drink down on the arm of the table, and waited for Lyss to be prepared to adjourn. Kayla was intent on guarding her rear. There was no telling if the man would lash out further, and if he did, Kayla would much rather be the one to take a bullet than any of her girls.

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

<Snipped quote by JunkMail>

Wait, did y'all actually finish this rp?

@Maxx

S o o n

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

Kayla

---

The ride up the elevator had been rather comfortable. While everyone else had been hot and overheating in an elevator that lacked environmental temperature control... Kayla had been allowing her mind to wander. The Florida heat addled the mind, inducing dehydration and heat stroke and generally sun-baking the brain in all sorts of unpleasant ways. Perhaps up north she wouldn't get away with nearly as much as she did down here, where her fireproof mind immunized her from the countryside microwave.

Kayla felt a poke in the ribs, and instinctually her offhand rose, reaching for the holster of her revolver. Crowded elevator full of people, unfamiliar place, unfamiliar faces. It wouldn't be the first time she had been stabbed, and she wasn't going to ask any questions in putting someone down first if she needed to. She-

"I don't trust this. I'm getting a bad about this man. A deal with him is one with the devil."

Herik's gentle voice carried down to her, and the fingers that had just brushed up against the rubber grip of her gun eased. It was Herik, who wouldn't hurt a fly unless she told him to- let alone hurt her. Big and attention drawing but mostly harmless. Her nervous mind eased when she realized it wasn't some strange assailant ready to take her life for reasons unknown. She tilted her head up and over in his direction, just enough to see over her shoulder. Her eyes flashed red to the man. "Herik, where do you think I'm from?"

When she exited the elevator, Kayla dropped her aviators over her eyes. It was open and the sun was shining clear as day, so the glare of sun made for a perfect excuse to use them for their primary purpose- concealing her eyes. The eyes were windows into the soul, and any amount of her face that she could obscure made her harder to read for Schmidt. She was working with a businessman, and a good one at that. The head of the snake, and any advantage she could get she would take. The place was nice. Posh and green and exactly what she expected the top one percent's rooftop pool to look like. Kayla wished she had this kind of money. Maybe then she'd be able to do something more with herself than what she'd be doing. Wishful thinking, she supposed.

"Ahhhh, so you all must be the Coven I heard so much about. Glad you all decided to attend, come, come, take a seat. Get comfortable! We're going to be here for a while... If you all decide to play ball, but this is my beautiful wife Phillis."

"This is Kayla, our leader, and Lyss, the... second in command."

“So, what exactly is it that you want from us? It must be more than just magic powers if we’ll be talking a while...”

Emily was chipper. It was fake, and everyone who knew her knew that. Not that Kayla minded, because Emily acting kind for once wasn't exactly a bad thing. They were both cut throat women who knew how to get what they wanted, and all things considered they undoubtably had a respect for one another in that way. Yes, Emily did have a mean streak that was somewhat unnecessary at times, but Kayla herself wasn't beyond lashing out either. She was all business, concise and to the point. In a way she was glad that Emily had pioneered the deal, because for all her grand standing and snarky attitude, she cared about whether or not it fell through. Kayla liked that. Someone else with a horse in the race was a good thing.

Maya was also a welcome player to their game, acting as Kayla's voice so that she need not even speak. Kayla had been given the general top-down view of the agreement, but hearing it from the horses mouth and having questions answered that Kayla herself intended to ask not only saved her breath, but also reduced how many potential negotiation mistakes she could make. Diplomacy was a difficult subject, and even the slight errant word could alter the deal. Schmidt's wife seemed on edge. She was a bargaining card, and could be used for leverage later. No matter how rich the man was, so long as there wasn't a prenup involved, she was entitled to fifty percent of what the man owned. A sizable chunk of any one man's net worth, and an excellent insurance policy. There was commotion behind them. Her other half determined it to be Madison, still drunk as ever. If she was too loud, things could sour quickly.

There was no controlling the chaos, that was Agatha's folly. Kayla intended to aim it.

With Emily and Maya bickering the immediate attention was taken off of her. She turned her head over her shoulder and gave a low, short whistle to new girls- Taylor, Ashley, and Vashti, and motioned in Madison's direction with a hand she had draped over the back of her seat as to not garner the man's attention. Taylor was slick enough, and the other two were smart. They'd get the idea. Distract Madison. The more people over there to force food or entertainment down the woman's throat would keep her from stumbling over here and making comments or doing things that would endanger the deals being struck. Madison being drunk and belligerent was dangerous, as she had demonstrated, willingly and regularly using her ability in public with little regard for who saw. Or could see. Kayla reminded herself.

She pulled her arm back over the seat when she was sure the other three had seen her directions, and smoothly pulled her phone out, deftly typing out a short text to Maya as she did so. Mrs. Schmidt's behavior when the rumors were brought up were telling. Time to get a woman on the inside.

"Phillis Schmidt looks angry. Find out if the rumors are true. Do what you do best- make friends."

Kayla

Maya could befriend a brick wall, and if there was anyone who could crack that woman it would be Maya. If the girl was able to get in cahoots with her, well, in this situation the man may bring home the bacon but mother superior ruled the roost. It accomplished a few things: primarily gaining further leverage and secondarily removing Maya from the situation so Emily didn't blow her lid. Kayla liked Maya, she did. She was asking good questions and generally being surprisingly useful and well mannered... but Emily was having none of it.

"All I want is one of those magical abilities that you all are so keen on flaunting. Nothing more, nothing less. I'm willing to pay top dollar for one and if you all are willing, I'm willing to offer employment because I'm looking for enforcers to protect myself, my family, and my assets from the supernatural. How does that grab you? You all are free to turn away and leave if this isn't appealing and I'll pry elsewhere but think about it... do you know how many other supernatural organizations would jump at this chance? This opportunity!?"

Babylon had a cheshire grin, which was never a good thing. Should they agree too early, they could end up doing something dangerous. Something illegal that they weren't ready for. Kayla hummed to herself and crossed her arms across her breast. This felt like a used car salesman's pitch more than it did a business deal, and furthermore she'd want it in writing. A binding agreement. She was immune to fire, but she had been burned many times by verbal agreements gone wrong.

"You didn't go to those other organizations." Kayla said matter of factly, finally breaking her own silence with carefully chosen words. It didn't matter how many other organizations would take the job if he had no way of finding them or proving their validity. All that glitters was not gold, and not every street performer was paranormal. "Let me be clear, Mr. Schmidt, we can't help you get supernatural abilities of your own. At least, I wont let my girls help you there," she began. "A few of them have lost who they were due to the nature of their abilities. I hope you understand, I do not intend to make a deal with a friend..." she began, a hand moving and motioning to Blake. "...Only to lose them to a profane genie in a bottle looking for a meat puppet. Any abilities you wish to procure of your own, you'll do so on your own time and of your own risk."

It was said more matter of factly than anything else. A statement. A line in the sand that was more relate to the man's personal safety than it was anything else. If he was so dead set on risking who he was to the point where her statement was a deal breaker, then frankly he wasn't the type she would want to make a deal with anyway. The unhinged were never worth the risk. You didn't sell to a Florida crackhead and take IOU's, just like you didn't make deals with power-mad millionaires until they proved they weren't power-mad.

"Enforcing and asset protection is another matter. One I'm more than willing to hear out." Kayla purred, but her face remained relatively emotionless. All business, pleasure later if and when celebrations were in order. "But I want a contract. Written agreement of what you want us to do, how far you want us to go, and what we'd be protecting, and how we're being compensated. To the letter, for each job. I'll also want an attorney. I don't mind getting my hands dirty for the right reasons, but if the law gets involved, I don't want my girls going to jail."

Kayla sat back against the chair. "I'm sure you'll want some sort of demonstration, too, yeah? To know what you're paying for?"

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

I'mma yeet you all into the sun.

That's it. That's the end of the roleplay.

You all died.

The end.

@Maxx

Honestly? Not too far off from the canon ending.

Recollections: The Coven [COMPLETED]

Kayla

♪♪♪

---

“You’re fucking with us, right? She’s joking right? Sell yourself? Is this a bit? This is a bit... Kimberly said the Coven would help me, and Agatha agreed to meet."”

Kayla turned her infernal gaze to the first to speak. Not the one she had predicted would speak first, but not particularly surprising either. Vashti was her name, jumpy and a bit manic even. She reminded Kayla of other members of the group albeit in a less detrimental way. She revealed her affliction, scales of natural armor under her clothing that linked together like the plates on a garfish. So she had something going for her, at least. She spoke too much, but she looked like she knew it. It was excusable, though. Everything she needed covered she had touched upon.

"I'm Ashley, I can make these weird claws that cut shit. I want to know more about the super natural, especially ghosts and apparitions."

Ashley was a pleasant surprise, revealing that she was more patient than she was timid, which was always a welcome addition. In a group like their own, one had to be powerful or outspoken to be heard as unfortunate as that was. Kayla was far more impressed with the woman's ability to be to-the-point and concise than she was with her alleged reaper claws. The ability to choose one's words and think things through was infinitely more powerful than slapping one's cock on the table with their ability in the hopes of scaring the others into listening. Certain individuals would simply join in to incite conflict like Maya, and others like Emily would take it as personal challenge that could only end one of two ways.

The last girl was a joke. A fucking caricature of a human being. Kayla was disappointed, she had shown so much promise with her spunk and vigor. Sugar this and that. All dog shit flamboyance and a bloated sense of self importance. She'd fit right in. Kayla had stopped listening after her first few words, not even taking the time to remember her name... But thankfully her passenger hadn't totally tuned out. She had focused entirely on superfluous information, meaningless stuff. Neglecting to mention anything at all about what she was capable of. Something about The Glutton, something about how she was two people. Like me. Kayla mused to herself, a tight frown forming on her features. The fire in her eyes died away and she leaned back against her seat, thoroughly disappointed in the last one's inability to follow directions.

"I'm not Agatha." Kayla said easily, her attention shifting from the group to a cinder that materialized in her hand and danced between her fingers like a slow, minute shooting star. "And I have no idea who this Kimberly person is. Nor do I care."

The cinder died in her hand, snuffed out like a cigarette. "Unlike her, I... we can help you. Or we will at least try to. We look after our own." She said, her eyes easing up to the three. Herik leaned over and whispered his approval into her ear, and she was inclined to agree with the first two. Carrot top would need further vetting, because as much as she enjoyed Maya pissing Emily off she didn't need another village idiot. "I also wont lie to you." Kayla stated, her voice taking on an edge that was almost unbecoming of her. "My group of girls has placed themselves in hot water with a supposed governmental agency. Some are brash, mean, dangerous, and in some cases straight up stupid. I'm doing damage control. I need to know if I'm taking on people that will be a problem or not."

She turned her attention to Taylor, but spoke to the group. "I need to know what you can do. Because the supernatural attracts the supernatural." Supernatural things that stood two stories tall, smoke and mirrors and red eyes that shined through the forest fire as if seeing through her soul and deciding if it was her time. The Hound of death. "And I wont always be there. I need to know if you can handle yourself, it is concern, I promise. There are things in this world that do not care if we think or feel."

Kayla's phone vibrated in her pocket, and she slipped it out just enough to read the message from Claudette. She sighed, slipping it entirely out to respond.

"Keep an eye on Madison, please. She has a tendency to fly off the handle. I'll be there soon. This could be a side hustle that may just work in our favor."

Kayla

She almost slipped her phone back into her pocket, but decided against it at the last moment.

"Oh, and Claudette? Thanks."

Kayla

A simple show of gratitude for being her eyes and ears where Kayla could not be. She looked up to the three once again and sighed. "If you understand the risks, you two-" she said, gesturing to Vashti and Ashley, "-Are in. Ashley, I will speak with you in particular later. And you-" she continued, looking to Taylor. "I'll ask again. What can you do? I don't know how your other half managed to cheat death, but from my experience he isn't too keen on that happening." Images of The Hound flashed through Kayla's mind again. "And I take you in, you're my responsibility. If something goes wrong, I don't need anymore blood on my conscious."