IzurichBernard White
”Good evenin’, everyone. My name is...”
Bernard White.
”I’ve been around a while…”
55 years.
”I’m surely past my prime…”
185lbs / 6’1” when standing straight.
”And I’ve definitely seen better days…”
Often seen in a brown jacket certainly picked for its utility over fashion, Bernard clearly values functionality in his wardrobe. The cooler climate of New York forces him to pick out a hood to cover his graying brown hair, often pulled back into a loose ponytail. His complexion is rough and leathery, offering up the story of having worked many years under the southern sun.
While not a stranger to good times and good company, his resting expression is focused, blue eyes duller than they might have once been. The times he stretches his arms out and rolls his shoulders reveal his true height, as he often stands or sits with a worse posture. During the summer months Bernard will be dressed in plain tees, showing off the sleeve of tattoos along his left arm.
”A little about myself…”
Born in Savannah, Georgia, Bernard was raised in a conservative southern baptist home. Although a religiously strict household, he could not fault his parents for their beliefs and grew to respect their faith as it presented some kind of peace and content in their lives. A rather uneventful life until he came of age, when he left home to attend Toccoa Falls College for his Bachelor’s in Ministry, much to the elation of his parents.
From his mid-teens to the beginning of his college years, there have been insignificant moments in time that seem to have been snapshot from his dreams and appear in his waking days. During his freshman year, these minor events would expand into longer and greater details to the point he began to proclaim that angels have granted him foresight and it was up to him to curate this privilege into holier things.
As a young man fresh out of college, he joined outreach ministries and missionary organizations. There was little to be done with these random divinations, so he chose to dismiss them as déjà vu illusions. From time to time, they would demonstrate the occasional inconveniences along with the random small things, including when a bus he was riding in Mexico broke down and there were no cars on the highway for miles. Even then, it’s chalked up to His Will.
The years turn into chapters in his book of life; the two years in Mexico, the twelve years as a pastor in South Carolina, ten more years back home in when his both his parents fell ill and slowly passed away. The latter time involved taking up a new role in his hometown church as well as inheriting his old home.
”So y’all must be wonderin’ how a priest’d end up here…”
The gap between his time back in Savannah and living now in New York City is a blur. Staying in that old Sears build-it-yourself catalog house wracked his dreams with newly intense night terrors. Tragedies as clear as day would jolt him awake, a precursor to the newfound paranoia as they eventually unfold. His childhood home goes up in flames before his eyes, that phone call of his congregation spreading a serious bout of influenza and many ending up with pneumonia.
Eleven years of troubles have driven him to the brink of insanity, worried that falling asleep will conjure a new plague on his mental health, while the lack of sleep is likely adding to his delusions. As a member of his church approached him, they advised of seeking help, somewhere away from them. A pang of betrayal, but understanding as he can be, as he promptly packed up and drove north.
Finding somewhere to live in New York wasn’t particularly difficult, as he was welcomed into another church to be a resident pastor -- but only if he accepted professional care. Thus a religious therapist was assigned to him, and could just as easily as he provide scripture and reassurance.
It’s been a few months since any major incidents, and the therapist recommended a nearby therapy group to find others outside his usual circle. Three weeks pass before the latest tragedy.
Talents:
+Carpentry. “I know, it’s a bit on the nose, but you build a lot of homes and structures on those mission trips.”
+Leadership. “The community is my flock, and I am its shepherd.” Please, please, please God, don’t hurt them. Please, please, please…
+Guitar. “I’m not as good as those youth group leaders these days, but I can carry a tune.”
+World Religion. “I don’t consider other faiths my enemy, but it’s good to know you can stand toe-to-toe in a debate.”
+Any Manual Labor. “Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop.”
Actions:
Avoid Harm +1
Endure Injury +3
Keep It Together -2
Act Under Pressure 0
Engage In Combat -1
Influence Other +1
Sixth Sense +2
Bernard White.
”I’ve been around a while…”
55 years.
”I’m surely past my prime…”
185lbs / 6’1” when standing straight.
”And I’ve definitely seen better days…”
Often seen in a brown jacket certainly picked for its utility over fashion, Bernard clearly values functionality in his wardrobe. The cooler climate of New York forces him to pick out a hood to cover his graying brown hair, often pulled back into a loose ponytail. His complexion is rough and leathery, offering up the story of having worked many years under the southern sun.
While not a stranger to good times and good company, his resting expression is focused, blue eyes duller than they might have once been. The times he stretches his arms out and rolls his shoulders reveal his true height, as he often stands or sits with a worse posture. During the summer months Bernard will be dressed in plain tees, showing off the sleeve of tattoos along his left arm.
”A little about myself…”
Born in Savannah, Georgia, Bernard was raised in a conservative southern baptist home. Although a religiously strict household, he could not fault his parents for their beliefs and grew to respect their faith as it presented some kind of peace and content in their lives. A rather uneventful life until he came of age, when he left home to attend Toccoa Falls College for his Bachelor’s in Ministry, much to the elation of his parents.
From his mid-teens to the beginning of his college years, there have been insignificant moments in time that seem to have been snapshot from his dreams and appear in his waking days. During his freshman year, these minor events would expand into longer and greater details to the point he began to proclaim that angels have granted him foresight and it was up to him to curate this privilege into holier things.
As a young man fresh out of college, he joined outreach ministries and missionary organizations. There was little to be done with these random divinations, so he chose to dismiss them as déjà vu illusions. From time to time, they would demonstrate the occasional inconveniences along with the random small things, including when a bus he was riding in Mexico broke down and there were no cars on the highway for miles. Even then, it’s chalked up to His Will.
The years turn into chapters in his book of life; the two years in Mexico, the twelve years as a pastor in South Carolina, ten more years back home in when his both his parents fell ill and slowly passed away. The latter time involved taking up a new role in his hometown church as well as inheriting his old home.
”So y’all must be wonderin’ how a priest’d end up here…”
The gap between his time back in Savannah and living now in New York City is a blur. Staying in that old Sears build-it-yourself catalog house wracked his dreams with newly intense night terrors. Tragedies as clear as day would jolt him awake, a precursor to the newfound paranoia as they eventually unfold. His childhood home goes up in flames before his eyes, that phone call of his congregation spreading a serious bout of influenza and many ending up with pneumonia.
Eleven years of troubles have driven him to the brink of insanity, worried that falling asleep will conjure a new plague on his mental health, while the lack of sleep is likely adding to his delusions. As a member of his church approached him, they advised of seeking help, somewhere away from them. A pang of betrayal, but understanding as he can be, as he promptly packed up and drove north.
Finding somewhere to live in New York wasn’t particularly difficult, as he was welcomed into another church to be a resident pastor -- but only if he accepted professional care. Thus a religious therapist was assigned to him, and could just as easily as he provide scripture and reassurance.
It’s been a few months since any major incidents, and the therapist recommended a nearby therapy group to find others outside his usual circle. Three weeks pass before the latest tragedy.
Talents:
+Carpentry. “I know, it’s a bit on the nose, but you build a lot of homes and structures on those mission trips.”
+Leadership. “The community is my flock, and I am its shepherd.” Please, please, please God, don’t hurt them. Please, please, please…
+Guitar. “I’m not as good as those youth group leaders these days, but I can carry a tune.”
+World Religion. “I don’t consider other faiths my enemy, but it’s good to know you can stand toe-to-toe in a debate.”
+Any Manual Labor. “Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop.”
Actions:
Avoid Harm +1
Endure Injury +3
Keep It Together -2
Act Under Pressure 0
Engage In Combat -1
Influence Other +1
Sixth Sense +2
RP: Nightland
