Detailed Personality:

Drake, or Preacher is a quiet brooding man. No one approaches him without some trepidation, including other Dark-Hunters. He is solitary and although he may not relish the lonely existence of a Hunter, he knows that he has been chosen and he carries out his mission with cold detachment.

Detailed Written Description:

Preacher is a tall man; he almost always wears a long black duster, with a black shirt and vest and black cowboy boots and a flat topped, flat brimmed hat. The only color on him is the white of his clerical collar. His dark hair and black eyes make him appear even more threatening. He carries 2 Ruger P235 Handguns as well as a Mossberg 500 “Roadblocker” Shotgun slung over his back. He has a Smith & Wesson 340PD Revolver 357 tucked into an ankle holster and he also carries an 1860 Colt Army .44 Caliber revolver, more as a remembrance than as an actual weapon. It is the gun that the Colonel used to kill him back in 1862.

The Preacher also carries a portable branding iron that he uses sometimes on Daimons that he decides not to kill, he burns his Symbol into their foreheads and sends them running back to Kalosis...with a warning for their friends that The Preacher Man has come to town and all should fear his wrath.

He is clean shaven most of the time, but that varies, as does his hair length and cut.

Detailed Written History:

Drake was born in 1826 in a small town outside of Philadelphia, PA to loving parents Lisa and Charles Covington. He was schooled in art and music as excelled at both, and his parents assumed that he would become an artist or perhaps a teacher, but instead he chose the path of righteousness and became a Minister. In 1852 he met a woman, Caroline, she was a beauty in every way that a woman can be beautiful, from her auburn hair and hazel eyes, to the loving way she cared for other people to her devotion to the man who would soon become her husband.

In 1860, before the outbreak of the Civil War, the Covington’s decided to move to Tennessee so that Drake could spread the good word to those that were in need. When the war broke out, they took no side, caring for both Union and Confederate soldiers…and arrangement that was accepted by both sides at the beginning of the war. However, when war came to their tiny southern Tennessee town of Bethel Station during the Battle of Shiloh in 1862 everything soon came crashing down. A Confederate Colonel rode into town with a detachment of soldiers and immediately surrounded the small church and house where Drake and Caroline cared for and ministered to wounded men.

The Colonel ordered all of the Confederate soldiers removed from the house and then commanded his men to board up the church, barricading the doors and windows and then to burn the buildings to the ground, with the Union soldiers and Caroline locked inside. They held Drake and forced him to watch and listen as the screams of the men and his wife were eventually drowned out by the fury and rage of the fire that consumed them all. After the church collapsed the Colonel shot and killed Drake as “an enemy of the free people of the Confederacy” and left his body outside the smoking ruins of the Church.

Artemis came to him and offered him a chance to not only exact his revenge upon the men who had taken everything from him, including his life, but to try and right some of the wrongs of the world, and to protect the innocent who cannot protect themselves. He spent the next 2 years tracking down and killing every one of the soldiers in the patrol who had survived the war, his quest became so widely known that when the tall man in black with the white collar was seen people would say “The Preacher Man is coming and hell follows after him.”

After the last of them was dead, Drake, now known as Preacher or Father turned his attention to fighting the Daimons and protecting the innocent. The Daimons know him and they fear even the sight of him, although some younger Daimons think that he is a myth, made up by Apollite parents trying to convince their children not to choose the path of Daimonhood, but they soon discover that he is all too real. He has most recently turned his attention westward towards the city of New Orleans, having spent the last 70 years of so in Atlanta, Savannah, Memphis and some of the other large southern cities.

Judgment day is coming.

Detailed Written Description:

Kalvin, or Kal is nearly 27 years old, at the date of his death, but he is 80 in actual years. He is not very tall, only 5’8, but he has always kept his body in excellent shape, benefiting from the training he received from “The Office”, the secret Black Ops organization that trained him and then ultimately betrayed him. He has the typical black eyes of a Dark-Hunter with the exception of a faint green ring around the edges, like an eclipse…a remnant of his Apollite background. His hair is naturally blond, but he usually colors it a bit darker. He almost never sports any sort of facial hair, but he does wear glasses occasionally.

He prefers to use his knives, nicknamed “Dusty”, but he will resort to his handgun if necessary. He was trained by “The Office” to kill without mercy, in silence and without leaving a trace behind.

Detailed Written History:

His father, Ciro was an Apollite who met a young human woman, Keara, one night. After a time, in the way these things go, she bore a child. A child of two worlds, one of the dark and the light. He was a beautiful child, his hair was blonde and silken, like his father, but his eyes were green, like his mother. He thrived, but a secret was always kept from him…the secret that no one could know…the secret that could destroy all of them.

But secrecy alone was not enough, they were betrayed by a Daimon who spoke with words of friendship, but whose heart was all but black. This traitor who went by the name of Kyrillos was jealous of Ciro and his love and tricked both of them and led them to their doom, their deaths were not swift and they were not painless, but there was one secret that even Kyrillos did not know, and that was of the child, Kalvin. He was 4. He was taken in by his mother’s sister and raised as her own….one more secret to be kept…but not for long.

Kyrillos learned of the child’s existence and they came for the sister, and they took her life and that of her beloved and her other child, but once again Kalvin escaped. The sister hid him away when they came for him and none of the family revealed his hiding place…another secret kept. He was now 11 and he was alone…he lived on the streets, in homeless shelters and in the care of friends for the next 5 years until he was taken in once again by strangers….but these strangers saw something in him that other did not.

These new strangers taught him things, how to fight, how use firearms and other weapons and how to kill without being seen, how to move in the dark and strike without warning…and he did their bidding without question for nearly 10 years, but when he decided that he had had enough, they too betrayed him and struck him down.

Even though he was half Appolite he had never needed nor felt the urge to feed until he approached his 27th birthday…which was 3 days after his ultimate betrayal. His final thought as he lay dying was of the irony of who he was…a half breed who did not even escape the curse of his father’s people…he would die at age 27 and then he awoke and a woman was standing there…

She was tall, beautiful with red hair and brilliant green eyes that sparkled like the ocean. She did not speak for a while, just standing there staring at him, like she was studying him, or trying to decide something about him. He stood slowly and looked at her.

“Where am I?”

“You are dead,” she said, her voice much more soothing than he had expected, especially considering what she had just said.

“Is this heaven?” he asked, only because it did not look like hell.

“It is neither heaven nor hell. You are here so I may decide,” she said.

“Decide what?” he asked.

“Decide if you should be granted a second chance.”

“A second chance for what?”

“A chance to go back, to redeem yourself,” she said, her voice hardening slightly

Kalvin just looked at the ground, unable to look at her.

“I have seen all…I have seen your cruelty, your hatred…but also your kindness and your redemption which led to your betrayal.”

“It was not my first betrayal,” he said firmly.

“I know that too, Kalvin. But I still need to decide if you should be granted this second chance.”

“Who are you?”

“I am Artemis…I am one of the leaders of the Dark-Hunters,” he said, while her eyes bore through him.

“The Dark-Hunters? The ones who hunt the Daimons?” he asked. He had learned about them through his mother’s journals. She talked about the Dark-Hunters and their never-ending struggle against the Daimons.

“But I am half Apollite,” he said.

“I know…and so my decision is not an easy one. How can you hunt those that are like you and how can we allow you to continue? You have not yet fed upon the humans, but you will feel the need, nay, you must feed to survive. But we are here to protect the humans, yet if you served, how do we reconcile both sides of you?”

They both stood there for some time without speaking.

“I don’t know how to answer that…all I can say is that I hate the Daimons, and I would kill them all myself if it was possible. My father may have been Apollite but he was betrayed by the Daimons…they have killed everyone that I have ever loved…they are not who I am. I don’t know about the feeding…but if you say it…I am sure it is true.”

They both stood in silence once more.

“I have been betrayed by the humans I once served as well…if I must feed, can I use those who profit from the misery of others? The humans who preys on other humans…can that balance out against my service in the slaying of the Daimon scum?”

Artemis stood for some time, not speaking, looking at Kalvin, but almost looking through him.

“I will discuss this with Ash,” she said and vanished, he looked around, but by the time he looked back where she had been standing, she was back again.

She looked at him sternly.

“I have discussed this matter with Ash, it took several days but – “

“I’m sorry…did you say “days”?” Kalvin asked, confusion written on his face.

“Yes.”

“But you were only gone for a few seconds.”

“To you it was a few seconds, because you are in this place…but to us, it was days,” she said, smiling slightly.

Kalvin just nodded and looked at her.

“Now…as I said, I have discussed this with Ash and we have come to a decision. If you wish to become a Dark-Hunter it will be permitted, but…there are a few conditions,” she paused for a moment to see if he had anything to say, but he remained silent.

“One, you may take the humans that you term “those that profit from the misery of others”, you will be given a special power, that only you have wherein you will see a special “mark” upon those who are already damned…you may do this only to feed yourself to stay alive. Two, if you EVER violate rule number one, you will immediately be banished to Shadedom, I will not explain to you, but you may trust me when I tell you that it an existence beyond that of Hell.”

“You do understand that you will NOT be welcomed into the world of the Dark-Hunters with open arms or that of the Weres?” she said.

“Yes…I would not expect that I would.”

“Prove yourself and they will eventually accept you, perhaps.”

“I will do my best.”

“Then your decision is made?”

“It is,” he said as he went to one knee, not really knowing how this worked. “I pledge myself to your service.”

“Very well...you are now one of the few. You will be known as Nexis to those that fear you…serve us well.”

And in a flash he was standing alone in the same field where his human betrayers had left him. He had to make it to his old safehouse before anyone saw him.

December Allen


Alias: Also known as Ember Allen,
Place of Origin : Somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. Otherwise, since 18, everywhere.
Age: Unknown
Height: 5 Foot 9 inches
Weight: 130
Hair Color: Chocolate Brown
Eye Color: Mostly dark green to brown. Sometimes a fiery reddish brown.
Played By : Apollymi



General Appearance: Tall, and graceful, but with a wild flair to her appearance.

Personality: Pretty much what she looks like. She can be down to earth one minute. Hell fire the next. She's not one to turn down a good party but is always there for her family and friends.

History: Ember has a very long and well, twisted history.


She was born into a family of magical beings, but she grew up on a secluded compound out in the middle of nowhere. She once had a loving mother, doting father and three older brothers that were always wrapped around her tiny five year old pinkie. Until one day her whole world was turned upside down. Her father was killed while in town and her own mother was murdered by someone who had mimicked him right before her very own eyes. Thanks to old magic and an interfering ancient relative, the assassin went up in smoke that day too.

After that, Ember's oldest brother Jon decided that all they needed was each other to make it through. He wasn't counting on Ember's nightmares and lighting the buildings they stayed in on fire while he was at work. After the third time, the authorities stepped in and moved all of the children into separate homes. The boys were old enough to control their powers though, so they had pretty normal upbringings, given the circumstances. Ember however was a different story.

Ember never was able to control her dreams or her powers all that well growing up. With no thanks to her own firepower she was sent from foster home to foster home. Each one worse than the last. Until finally she was sent to live with Carl Phillips and his wife Jane. You see, Carl was not a very nice man. He liked to, well let’s just say he wasn't a nice man.

Around the time that Ember was seventeen he made the mistake of coming into her room late one night after he'd finished consuming all of his normal case of alcohol with the impression that he was going to get what he wanted whether Ember liked it or not. What he didn't count on was the fact that Ember had been waiting for this to happen since she moved in. And there was no way in hell that she was going to sit idly by. When he entered the room, he nearly jumped for the bed, but when he can into contact with it, Ember's temper flared, and so did the mattress. When she saw the flames already consuming his flesh, she ran from the room and out into the world, trying to forever forget that night. She was never able to.

After spending months on the road, stealing what she could, living as an assassin when there was nothing but a cold back alley to sleep in. That is until she met Erica Keith. Erica was a pure soul, a type of white lady if you will. She could see into Ember's heart and she knew that what Ember wanted everyone to see was nothing but a facade. She took Ember into her home, taught her to trust again, to love again. To see that not everyone everywhere was as bad as the people she'd been forced to live with. But while all this was happening Ember learned that Erica had a brother.

If Erica was pure light, her twin brother was the exact opposite. He was pure dark. He was a few years older than Ember, and she was blinded by the white of Erica and couldn't see the darkness within David.

But the tiny specks of light that kindled between them, they managed to become two of the same. Both dark and light, evil and good. And in due course they married, thinking that they could beat the odds. The source would free David from his commitment, that they would be able to have a wonderful life together. This time however, love was not enough to save them, or their unborn child. So they did the only thing that they could, in order to save their unborn child, they gathered together with Erica and preformed an ancient spell that would take all of their powers to pull off, and every ounce of strength that David's poor human body could hold. Erica carried the child, but the spell worked perhaps too well, no one remembered what had happened over the past months. They woke up to find David dead beside them and Erica three months pregnant with no memory of how she had gotten that way.

In due time, Erica gave birth to her niece and for some reason decided to name her Saphyre. For the child had the eyes of an angel. And indeed, for unbeknownst to any of them, her mom had just become an elder.

Ember loved being an Elder. Thanks to Erica's hand in it, she got to help young people like herself grow in their powers and in themselves. But she always had a favorite; you would just never hear her admit it. That favorite as Saphyre Indahol. A young woman with a past that she didn't want known and the most beguiling and innocent blue eyes.


A relationship grew between Ember and Phyre. Phyre took over as an assistant for her and Ember depended on her more than anyone else. They quickly became the best of friends. But they didn't know that a storm was brewing. After twenty years of being an elder, Ember found that she couldn't take it anymore, not after what David had done to her to get her back. But when she stepped down, she went on several quests to find her next purpose in life, that of being a mom.

Ember had had not one but two daughters. She found out about Phyre only shortly after stepping down, but she had always had contact with her second daughter, Helphyre. Although Helphyre would have proffered otherwise. But now that the realities had been ripped apart and mixed she didn't know where she was, or where her girls were!

Present Day : Ember did find her girls. Phyre had been sent to a universe where magic had reigned, as had her sister. However, Helphyre had been lost to a demon underworld, along with her father, David.

But things rarely go according to plan. You see, Ember had intended to stay where she was and take care of her last remaining daughter, Phyre. But as the Fates are cruel, that wasn't going to be. You see, deep in Ember's history, the first firestarter in her line, Jasmine, thought that she could intervene in fate. What Jasmine wasn't prepared for was the consequences of her actions. It caused a terrible curse to be laid upon Ember. All she knew and loved were destined to die as she watched. The first part of the curse took her parents, then her brothers. It took her friend, her husband, even lovers away from her, but what always hurt her the most was that it took her daughters away from her too.

But Jasmine wasn't done yet with Fate. You see, because the universe where Ember was originally from exploded and shipped her to an alternate reality, a twisted reality, where those with gifts were considered mutants. It was the opening that Jasmine had needed to gain access to Ember's carefully shielded mind and body. Like a parasite, Jasmine hid until she could control enough of Ember's mind and powers to exact her own revenge upon the sisters of Fate. The battle was bloody and long. But as Ember's sword was about to cut through one of the sisters, something happened. A whiring of power that she'd never felt before. Something that she could only describe as primal.

Now, she's found herself in yet another world, in another alternate reality, this time however, she's charged with keeping the balance of the universe, to watch over all mankind. To be a police woman of the gods. She doesn't know what happend to Phyre or to any of those that she cared about. But in this world, she won't be able to access the Fates again. For someone has already warned her that they are his alone to kill. And who can say no to Ash? At least he promised that she could join him if he does go and kill them. Not that he would need a hand, but at least she could make it interesting and pay them back for all the lives that were lost because of thier meddling.

Destasia “Dez” Pastor
Birth date: CE 209
Birthplace: Pelia, Macedonia
Parents: Ionnes Felix Pastor and Iulia Comito (Both Deceased)
Siblings: Cyra (living)

2 Macedonian swords
Body Bag
Boot stilettos
Kevlar body armor

Dez grew up with her sister Cyra in a typical Apollite nest, knowing she would die young. All her people would, and they had learned to adapt to their shortened lives in many ways. They often married by the time they were sixteen and started having children as early as possible so they could live long enough to see them almost become “adults”. The practice of killing oneself the day before turning twenty-seven also became a part of normal society.

Dez personally thought it was a fine “screw you” to Apollo who would not have the satisfaction of fulfilling his curse. She also didn’t understand why all of them should have to be punished for something someone else did long before she was born. It just wasn’t fair, so she was determined to have as much fun as she could for as long as she could. After all why should she have to miss out on anything?

She was 8 yrs old when she began hearing whispers that members of her nest had found a way to cheat the curse. And the ones called Dark Hunters who hunted them down and killed them for daring to defy the vengeful god who’d cursed them. They were the boogy man of her people, slayers of bad children who went astray.

One day she and some other kids were playing, and one of them dared her to sneak into the room set aside for the ritualistic suicide. Never one to back down from a dare, Dez agreed quite readily, too quickly for some of the kids who upped the ante by saying she had to stay there overnight. She was scared but among kids a dare was a dare and amid clucks and so she agreed once again.

Later that day, Destasia headed out to fulfill her end of the dare but ran into Cyra along the way. Being the older sister Cyra was always looking out for her and when she caught Dez sneaking off to do something she wanted to know what was going on. Dez finally told her thinking that maybe, Cyra wouldn’t let her get away with it and she could use getting caught as an excuse. No such luck, Cyra did however say she would sit outside and wait for her to complete her dare as a witness and to keep her from being too scared.

Later on, Dez would wonder if Crya had known she wanted to get out of the dare and offered to go with her to make her keep her word or to learn a lesson of some sort. Crya was always thinking, she was smart and came up with the best ways to get out of trouble, the best ways to win a game against the others and other useful things.
Dez was more the impulsive one, easily lost in the game rather than strategize and frustrated when things didn’t go her way she barreled through like a bull in a china shop. She was smart in her own right; her ideas were sound, but usually lacked in the smaller details of how to get it done. That was Crya’s department!

So, Dez and Crya made their way down the tunnels to the rooms where people went to kill themselves before dying the horrible death the curse meted out. The boy who had challenged Dez met them in the darkness his eyes wide that she’d actually shown up. He didn’t like that she’d brought Crya, but after a brief argument he was satisfied that Crya would stay out of the room and only wait for her. Even so he stayed with them until Dez crept inside with her heart pounding in her ears.

She looked around at the room surprised that it looked almost like her room, a large comfortable looking bed, some chairs and a table with some candles on it. At one end was a closet with a curtain across the entrance, she sat down at the table wondering how many people had died here. It was creepy, and she didn’t want to stay, but she could hear Crya and the boy talking softly outside.

She knew he’d make fun of her if she came out now, and worse he’d tell the others! She forced herself to stay, then after a few minutes the boy left and it got quiet. Destasia called out to Crya to make sure she was still there; she was, and Dez figured that if nothing had happened yet then nothing probably would.

Sitting there was boring; she crossed her arms and laid head down on her arms and started to doze off. A short time later she awoke to voices, adult voices coming her way! Dez jumped up to run out when the door opened and Crya hurried inside telling her to hide. They ran into the closet just before a woman came into the room, she was young and pretty with long golden hair much like her and Cyra’s. A man was with her, Dez peeked out as they kissed, she could hear the softly exchanged words between them.

They were saying goodbye, she was older than him it seemed and she was going to kill herself. He wanted to stay with her and she wanted him to go. Finally he left, and the woman sank into a chair and cried. She had a knife in her hand that gleamed in the candlelight.

Dez grabbed Cyra’s arm looking at her with wide eyes, this wasn’t part of the dare! She didn’t want to be here for this! Cyra’s firm grasp kept her from bolting out of the closet and getting them both into serious trouble.

Dez buried her face in her sister’s shoulder refusing to watch the drama about to unfold just beyond the curtain. After a few minutes she looked up, nothing was happening or so it seemed, Destasia looked out to see the woman throw the knife away her hands shaking as they came up to cover her face.

The clock started chiming, it was midnight, the girl looked panicked and ran to get the knife again Dez watched in horrified silence as the girl cut her wrists but it was too late. Blood ran from the wounds, but she was already becoming wrinkled and grey haired, she would die of old age before she bled out. Her skin tightened around her face again thinning out so that the skull was clearly visible, and her eyes drooped her lips pulled tight over her teeth.

When her hair started falling out Dez hid her face again, crying against Crya’s shoulder. Then the screams began… it didn’t matter if how hard she pressed her hands to her ears the bones cracking and the screaming went on and on then after seemed like forever there was silence. An awful sudden silence that was almost worse than the screams, Dez couldn’t help but look again, the woman was dead, her jaw had dropped off onto her pretty dress then began to turn into dust.
Dez couldn’t stop shaking, this was going to happen to her! Cyra would go first, her smart and beautiful sister would turn into this thing… and she’d be alone. Not for long though, it would only be a year before this was her fate too. She clung to Cyra she couldn’t lose her sister! And she didn’t want to die, not like that and not even by her own hand.

“I don’t wanna die!” Destasia repeated while she cried. “I don’t want to die. I don’t wanna die!” Cyra did her best to calm her down, telling her that she would think of something.

That was centuries ago, they had decided to cheat the curse, and both women were now quite accepting of the way they had to live. Killing a human and taking its soul was no worse than a hunter killing a deer for dinner, it was a way to survive. They

Cyra was now a successful business woman while Dez had yet to decide on one career she flitted from idea to idea until she lost interest or she could sell her idea to someone else to make it work. Right now her passion was clothing from top models to wearable weapons for daimons and marketed to the black markets and mercenaries’ world wide.

Right now, Dez was following in her sister’s footsteps trying to gain entrance into the elite ranks of the Spathi demon. The plan is to gain enough notoriety to get someone’s attention to be recognized for what they truly were.

Full Name: Zhalah bint Abdullah al Jerash (meaning Zhalah, daughter of Abdullah of Jerash)

Species: Angel

Date of birth: 560 CE (day unknown)
Age: Really old
Birthplace: Jerash, Jordan
Parents: Abdullah and Aziza (whereabouts unknown)

Siblings: None

Hobbies: Dancing, surfing, sailing, traveling
Occupation: Jinn (Genie)
Tattoos and Scars: occasionally henna tattoos

Strengths/Powers: Conjuration

Weaknesses: Cursed (cannot use powers for herself or for others without them wishing. If she tries, a painful electric jolt passes through her, and she is immediately transferred back to her lamp.)

Personal Quotes: “Bismillah” and “Insha’Allah”

History:
Zhalah was born to an angel couple just before the birth of the Prophet Muhammad in Pagan Arabia. Her parents trained her to use her powers from very early age and prepared her as a guide for the prophet. She aided Muhammad and his family, especially his daughter Fatimah. Zhalah tried her best to help Fatimah, but the males of the land twisted the word’s passed on by Muhammad and made women the property of men.

Many years later during an attempt to help a woman survive a brutal attack by a group of men, Zhalah was mistaken as a demon and cursed by the woman’s mother. To make the demon pay for what she did to her daughter, the old woman locked Zhalah’s wrists in Jinn cuffs and put a curse on her to serve as a Jinn, a person with powers that they cannot use for themselves. Zhalah became trapped in a silver lamp, only summoned out as the person possessing the lamp called her forth.

In the centuries since, Zhalah has served many masters. Most of them are materialistic and only seek to use her powers for their own benefit. Some were more clever than others by setting up events to make their need for wishes obsolete; these people would then sell or hide the lamp. This led to Zhalah’s leap-frogging through time.

Zhalah currently lives in Manhattan with a person, who barely deserves the term “person”. Bishop Lane was a low level, black-market fence who came across Zhalah’s lamp while smuggling artifacts out of Baghdad during the war. Lane has used Zhalah’s powers to become a black-market king. He has used his new influence to delve into all sorts of illegal activities including funding BOSS’ attempts to exterminate the Others, Other’s trafficking for DSM to gain experimental bodies, and more.

Zhalah mourns her role in this but is trapped due to the curse placed on her. She is unable to deny the wishes made by her keeper. The only wishes she cannot grant relate to controlling the will of another being or killing a being. Because her keepers need her, Zhalah does not fear speaking her mind and being a bit of a brat. Having been cursed at such a young age, she never truly grew up completely and can act very much like a child at times. Over all, Zhalah is fun-loving and would be happy if not for the things she is forced to do.

Character Name: Rune Haswell
Character Nickname(s)/Alias(s): None

Description

Height: human-6ft 2in; tiger-45in tall, 7ft 6in overall length
Weight: human-200lbs.; tiger-350lbs.
Build: muscular in both forms
Hair Color / Length / Cut: dark blonde hair with light blond streaks, cut short; in tiger form, white with dark chocolate stripes.
Eye Color: icy blue in both forms
Facial Hair: dark blonde goatee as a human, whiskers as a tiger
Distinguishing Features (Tattoos/Scars/Etc.): none

Birth date: October 15, 1980
Birthplace: Wismar, Germany
Parents: (Living & Deceased, adoptive, or estranged) Adelric and Ermenilda Haswell, both living
Siblings (Living & Deceased): Baldric, Richmond and Ritter(twins), Afonso, Dustin, and Gretchen (Rune’s twin); all living

Home base: North GA

Equipment:throwing knives and axes

Detailed Written Description:

Rune is a well-built man with a charming smile highlighted by his light blue eyes. His hair is kept short and usually spiked to reflect his carefree natural. His skin is well tanned as he spends much time outside in the sunshine. He dresses usually in jeans and light weight cotton shirts, though his shirts rarely stay on long as he enjoys the feeling of the sun on his skin.

Personality Details:

Rune is a free-spirit, quick witted, and enjoys having fun. His serious side comes out when his twin, Gretchen, is threatened or when she needs someone to talk to. He spends much of his time practicing his knife work and studying kung fu with Baldric, the eldest Haswell child and a master in the martial art, and the youngest son of the Haswell’s has proved to be an exceptional student. Rune is a natural flirt and enjoys spending time with ladies, but he is always a gentleman, never forcing himself on a female and never “kissing and telling”. He is also very confident but not to the point of being cocky. Like all of the Haswell’s, Rune believes the war between Arcadian and Katagarian is a great sadness, and it is the duty of all were-hunters to work toward peace and a decent future for all were-hunter children.

Detailed Written History:
What kind of events played pivotal roles in your life, bad decisions and repercussions, or people who were important role models/love of your life.
How did you come to be here, what are you looking for, what do you want to accomplish while here?

Rune’s family history is the same as Gretchen’s. His story differs in that his training was mainly in martial arts. His skills with throwing knives and axes was discovered at a young age and fostered.

Gretchen is his dearest friend in the world, and Rune will do anything for his sister. His devotion to her was sealed the day she held out her transformation until he was ready. Rune and Gretchen developed their own language as children and have kept this in practice as adults.

Rune had fallen in love at a young age with a slightly younger Katagarian tigress on one of his trips to the jungle. His heart was crushed when their love and desire was never acted upon because the tigress’ family managed to corrupt her views of Rune because he is Arcadian. And, although he wishes only the best for her and her family, this act sealed his opinion on the were-hunter war. This incident has made Rune slightly timid when getting extremely close to intimacy with females, but has not held him back from being a flirt.

Rune’s goals in life include working toward peace in the were community and living a long life with his soul mate.

Character Name: Gretchen Haswell
Character Nickname(s)/Alias(s): Greta, Cub, Strawberry

Power : Hydrokinesis

Description
Height: 5’11” in human form; 40inches tall and 7’2” in overall length
Weight: 180lbs. in human form; 274lbs. in were form
Build: Athletic in human form; thick and muscular in were form.
Hair Color / Length / Cut: colored Jet Black, Shoulder length in human form; Golden Tabby in were form.
Eye Color: Green in human form; Golden in were form
Facial Hair: None in human form; whiskers in were form


Birth date: October 15, 1980
Birthplace: Wismar, Germany
Parents: (Living & Deceased, adoptive, or estranged)Adelric and Ermenilda Haswell, both living
Siblings (Living & Deceased): Baldric, Richmond and Ritter(twins), Afonso, Dustin, and Rune(Gretchen’s twin)
Home base (Pending Approval): Atlanta, GA


Detailed Written Description: Standing 5’11”, Gretchen usually pushes 6’3” to 6’7” in her boots and high heeled shoes. She has a flair for Goth fashions, which she picked up from her visits home to Germany. Naturally, her hair is strawberry blonde, but Gretchen prefers to color her hair jet black. This helps her claim an identity away from being a twin. With skin that is very pale and soft, her dark green eyes stand out from the sharp contrast. Long eyelashes and a soft smile on her full lips give her appearance a gentleness that radiates from her core. Her movements are always smooth and polished as if from years of training as a dancer.

Detailed Written History:
Gretchen is from a large and old family. The Haswell’s are the descendants of an ancient warlord from Northern Europe; the warlord was simply known as Thorkell. It was rumored that Thorkell was blessed by Freya, the Norse goddess, because he was thought to have the mannerisms of a ferocious cat in battles. Little did they know, Thorkell and his family were were-hunters. They were followers of Freya because of her affinity to felines, and Freya had indeed blessed them because of their were-sides. The goddess saw them as the human embodiments of her ideals and promised to watch over Thorkell’s family and his descendants for as long as they held her sacred. It was Thorkell’s focus on hard work, strength, and knowledge that formed the basis of how his children and their children would conduct themselves.

Adelric and Ermenilda Haswell met in the early 1700s when the Swedes invaded and began their occupation of coastal Germany. Ermenilda is Thorkell’s grand-daughter, and Adelric is of Germanic descent via ancient Rome. (His grand-father remained in Germania after Caesar left to become emperor of Rome. It is rumored he even aided Marc Antony when he fled north to escape persecution in Rome.) They were both fairly young for were-hunters as they were both in their early 90s. As soon as they met, they knew there was something special drawing them together: they were indeed soul mates. Their romance was swift and almost immediately they began having children. Gretchen was the youngest of their seven beloved children, one of their two pairs of twins, and (most importantly) their only female child.

She led a privileged life, but this was not as fulfilling as Gretchen had hoped. As the youngest and only female, she was always treated with great care as if she were a fragile piece of pottery. Gretchen often secretly went to visit other (normal) children to play soccer and rugby. (She became quite good at both sports by the age of 7.) This infuriated her parents because they knew their nature as were-hunters could not be exposed, but they slowly began to understand Gretchen’s need for treatment equal to her brothers, who were expected to live up to their honored ancestry. At the age of 8, her training as a fighter and knowledge of were-hunter life began.
Her parents began her training and education of were-hunter life. They explained why it was so important not to upset the gods and never to reveal herself to humans. She was thoroughly amazed the first time she saw her mother change from a graceful, calm, silver-haired woman to a fierce, yet still graceful and calm tiger in their family’s living room. Seeing this transformation was the turning point for Gretchen; she knew in an instant that she wanted to grow up to be the bravest and most fierce were-hunter that a young girl could imagine. Her parents’ trained her until she turned 13, and Gretchen had proven herself to be a better pupil than any of her brothers had been. She absorbed knowledge with such a thirst. At 13, she was sent to America for the first time to train with her oldest brother Baldric, who ran a small private school for were-hunters in the mountains of North Georgia. This was to attempt to help Gretchen socialize with other were-hunters. (She even managed to organize a were-hunter soccer game, which was quite interesting. Ever see a tiger or bear using their head to bounce a soccer ball down a field like a professional soccer player?)

With family always being so close, Gretchen has never really had a chance to look for her soul mate. They have always kept her attention diverted to her training and studies. This has made her a wonderful resource when it comes to were-hunter social habits and abilities in theory. She still struggles with controlling her powers, but she has become quite good at transforming to and from her were-form. Her family has a tradition of gathering for three days for each child’s twenty-fifth birthday to celebrate their coming of age as a were-hunter. Gretchen and Rune’s celebration was marked with great excitement because these two were possibly the most promising of Adelric and Ermenilda’s children. (But then they had said this about each of their children at their coming of age celebration like any excited parent would.) Rune had been born before Gretchen, so she was truly the baby girl, which her older brothers protected always. Rune and Gretchen had always been very close, and they had even made up their own language as children to communicate secretly as twins. On the first day of their coming of age celebration, they were brought before the family in the dining room of their family’s home. Extended family from around the world was present. Rune whispered to Gretchen in twin-speak, “I am not ready. I can’t change yet, Greta.” Gretchen looked at him and smiled and replied in twin-speak, “No worries, my brother, we came into this world together, and we will go through this the same way.” She held his hand as the family looked to them with great anticipation to see the two transform for the first time. The twins stood for several hours together with no change. The family hadn’t expected this and did not know what to make of the twins. It wasn’t until the third and final day of the celebration that during the farewell feast, Rune gave Gretchen the smile that only she could understand to mean he was ready. The two closed their eyes and transformed for the first time sitting next to each other at the dining table. Before their family erupted in cheers and applause at the twins’ finally joining the ranks of their were-hunter family, they were astonished to see the strange colorings of the twins’ were-forms: Rune was white with black stripes and Gretchen was a strawberry blonde with light brown stripes. (Hence the nickname Strawberry.) The twins, being somewhat mischievous, leapt from their chairs and ran outside. They played and ran through the forests surrounding their family’s home for hours. The family allowed them this freedom; after all, it wasn’t every day you made your first transformation and there would be plenty of time for all the seriousness that came with being a were-hunter.

In the three years since that day, Gretchen and Rune have learned to control their changes and even began to develop control over their powers. Rune was better at controlling his aerokinesis than Gretchen was at controlling her hydrokinesis. Though, it did take them three weeks to figure out Adelric was not having bladder control issues due to his age; it was Gretchen’s attempts to learn to control her powers gone array. Gretchen always thought Rune was better at harnessing his powers because he was more of an artist and Gretchen was more of a logical thinker. One day when she was feeling exceptionally down about not being able to control her powers, she had wandered to the waterfront. She sat on the beach for a while and stared across the incoming waves as she tried to figure out what she was missing. At dusk a beautiful, blond woman approached Gretchen. The woman looked oddly familiar to Greta, but she wasn’t sure if she knew the woman.

“Be at peace, young Gretchen,” the woman said, “Like your ancestors, I will guard you and keep you safe. You will come into your own in time, and life will make sense. Fear not.” Gretchen’s head tilted in curiosity as she looked to the woman. Gretchen’s eyes widened as the realization swept over her as if one of the waves from the sea.

“Mistress Freya?” Gretchen’s voice finally broke through the wall of shock that had taken over her. The goddess smiled and nodded softly as she sat beside Gretchen and looked over the rolling waves. “I feel silly asking this, but...” The goddess cut her off by holding her hand up.

“Yes, you will grow into your powers. You’re caught up in the theory of how things work. Relax and feel things more. You push too hard and are impatient with yourself. Give yourself the same freedom for error as you do others. Now,” Freya turned her gaze to the sea. “Close your eyes and feel the push and pull of the waves. Feel how the water churns against itself as it meets the shore. Sense the mist in the air and imagine it coming together.”

Gretchen did as she was instructed. She felt like it took forever but she finally felt as if her mind was caught in the swirling water. She slowly envisioned the water mist circling as it came together. Gretchen slowly opened her eyes, and there before her in the water was her first water spout. The whirling of the water grew for a moment as the spout danced over the water’s surface. It swerved like a snake being charmed by a flute. As the pride within her grew from this accomplishment, the water spout grew. Freya put a hand on Gretchen’s shoulder and whispered to her to calm, and with this the spout slowly dissipated and returned to mists. Gretchen almost had tears of happiness in her eyes as she looked to Freya and tried to thank her, but her words failed to come out through the emotions that welled inside Gretchen. Freya’s smile said it all though: she was happy for Gretchen and was proud of her as well.

“You best head home, Gretchen, your parents will be worried.”

“Yes, Mistress Freya.” As Gretchen walked back toward her home, she looked back long enough to see Freya’s chariot being drawn by two large cats. She thought she heard Freya speak to one, saying “Yes, Thorkell, she is indeed strong.”

The two and a half years since then has seen Gretchen become more free thinking and feeling. This led her to ask her parents for permission to leave their home in America to try coming into her own. They agreed but only with the stipulations that she live close to her brother Baldric and come home for regular visits.

Character Name: Cyra Pastor [played by: Ailea]

Distinguishing Features (Tattoos/Scars/Etc.): tattoos: full left arm sleeve of Asian art, crucified angel on back, kanji/sanskrit/Arabic writing in random places (arms, stomach, back and legs)

Power: Gravitakinesis

Detailed Written Description: Cyra is a truly beautiful being, as are all beings descended from Apollo. She is extremely athletic which shows in her toned, muscular form. Her smile ranges from charismatic to truly sinister depending on her purpose. Cyra’s eyes are generally cold and calculating. Her hair is near platinum blonde and usually straight.

Personality Details: Cyra is above all else a survivor. She is well aware that most beings want her and her kind dead. Her long years roaming this Earth have given her many challenges to face, which has developed a keen sense of planning and tactics. Cyra is also a fighter and a scholar. She has passed much of her time studying the human world and finding ways to use it to not only keep herself alive but also make a fortune while doing so. She manages to stay just out of the public side of business, which protects her from being outted. Unlike most people who sees taking a soul to survive as evil, Cyra sees this act as just another evolution of the food chain which places her and other daimons at the top.

She never quite understood why Apollites would choose a painful death instead of taking a soul as a meal. She equated this as any other form of food, and killing for food had been a natural instinct long before there were humans or Apollites.

She was taught early the dangers of feeding on only evil souls, so she maintains a strict diet designed to balance herself. Though, being hunted and near killed several times has jaded her toward those who would kill her kind. She can be most ruthless and cruel when she captures one of these people.

Detailed Written History: As a young Apollite, Cyra was very quiet and studious. She lived in a nest with her sister, who was by far the more outgoing of the two. Cyra had always admired Dez’s spirit, though it did get her into predicaments at times which Cyra helped get her out of.

One such time was when she was dared by the other children to sleep inside the ritual room of the nest. It was a place Apollites went to commit suicide, so Cyra knew Destasia would be scared even though she would never admit to it. Cyra was determined not to let her sister go through this alone, so she stood guard outside the door, knowing that would probably help calm any worry Dez had. Dez’s stay in the ritual room was almost complete when Cyra saw an Apollite coming for the door. She hurried inside and told Dez to hide.

The girls watched as the Apollite missed her window of opportunity, and instead of suicide, a long excruciating death took hours to claim the Apollite’s life. Cyra watched with almost scientific detachment as the Apollite took hours to decay. The girls watched this torturous event. Cyra held Dez and did her best to bring some small comfort to her sister. That day, they made a pact to avoid that fate and to live.

Knowing what they would have to do to survive not only the Apollite curse but also those who would hunt them, Cyra began training in hand to hand combat, weapons, and strategy. As the years passed and technology changed, Cyra knew she would have to learn these new ways, or like all antiquated things, she would fade into extinction as well.

Stealth and thievery got her through a lot in the early days, but it was the inventions of humans that allowed her to thrive. With some well placed murders, investments, and developing connections in a law firm as their silent partner, Cyra was able to make large amounts of money each year and support Dez and herself. The sisters’ connections on the black market helped a lot as well and made it so they could arrange anything.

In recent years, Cyra had developed a desire to not only raise herself among the business ranks; she desired above all to prove herself as a Daimon to be feared. Cyra wanted to become a Spathi Daimon and rise to the ranks of the Illuminati.

Character Name: Hilde
Played by: Hilde
Nickname: My friends just call me H.

Birth date: 5/13/1983
Re-Birth Date: July 4, 2009

Hometown: Small town in PA
Parents: 2 Like everyone else, and just as dysfunctional
Siblings: 8

Home base: Las Vegas
AI: Elisha Dushka

Power: Telekenesis

Personality: I tend to think myself as being naïve. Completely trusting to the cause. Loyal to the bitter End.


Character History:

You ask how I became a squire living in Las Vegas area. Well I ask my self this same question everyday. I was just 18 when I decided it was time to move on from my current situation in Pa. Being the eldest child of 8 with two parents who were too young and stupid to stop copulating. I was their built in babysitter.

At 18, finally an adult I decided it was time to leave this simple life and make my fortune, have an adventure and live my life for myself. I took what saving I had from working since 15 and borrowed a few more from my loving grandmother and set my sights on Las Vegas. The land of secrets and fantasy. Little did I know that this was going to be a reality?

I found a job in one of the local clubs working as a waitress. The tips were fabulous. I learned quickly all you had to do was pay special attention to some of the older distinguished looking men and walked out with a small fortune. No I never did anything like that! I grew up with more morals that that. Where that come from? Who knows with the parents I had certainly not from them. But anywho- this club was my road to success. Little did I know It was the road to life altering abyss from which you will never return.

Working one night, I noticed a group of the most gorgeous looking men. Now normally I stay close to the older gents because they tipped better but I had to know this rock star. He was just simple beautiful. He was the tallest man I ever seen and let me tell you he was ripped. The broadest shoulder I ever laid eyes on and his chest was to die for. His hair the blondest of blonde. My senses were saying stay back not for you, my hormones screaming I need me some of that. I went to his table and asked in my most seductive voice, okay being 18 I knew little of seduction,” how can I serve you”.

Well he just looked at me with the blackest eyes I’ve ever seen and took my breath away. He stayed till closing talking the talk, and ladies you know what I mean. Being young and obviously stupid, I fell head over heels with this complete stranger. He paid attention to me, only me. Staring at me so strong that I felt his desire, that he to had to have me. Yeah I believed in love at first sight, here was my knight in shining armor come to take me away from this simple servitude. Boy could he stroke my ego, telling me how beautiful I was and how strong I must be to just leave my entire life behind. Okay so I told him my life story, again I was just a trusting fool. I always prided myself in my sense of judgment and my judgments were telling me, “Must have him NOW!”

Finally the placed closed and he asked me to join him for breakfast, little did I know he meant me as the main dish. Well okay I knew I was the main dish but not literally. Walking out the back door to where he said his car was, I had a sudden sense of dread. The alley way was dark, no one was around. I think he sensed my nervousness. I turned back to the club when he grabbed me. Throwing me against the building holding me there. I was pinned between him and the wall. No where to run, my life flashed before my eyes. “Oh God, what did I get myself in to. I hooked up with a serial killer- he’s going to be brutally rape and torture me.”I slowly looked up into this mans eyes and found nothing there. Literally nothing. No humanity, as I begged to let me go. No soul, as I cried for release.

He just smiled this smiled that said “Didn’t your mama tell you to beware of wolves dressed in Men’s clothing.” I then say his fangs; yes I am talking blood sucking fangs. I thought well this is it. I am going to die and no-one will even care. I tried to scream and nothing would come out. “I’m so dead.”

That when I heard this voice that sounded like an angel. “Let the girl go and your death will be quick.” She laughed. I couldn’t believe she just laughed at this monster, this soul sucking vampire.

He turned slowly to the voice but never leaving my eyes till the last second and with speed I have never seen, he lunged toward her. I’m talking he had the agility of spidy man. My mind must be playing tricks on me. He grabbed this woman in mid flight and she in turn grabbed a hold of him thrusting him back over her head with a double foot kick, that he landed right on his back with the hardest thud that I swore broke the asphalt.

She was amazing. She flipped her self backwards at the same time and landed square on his chest That I heard the breath leave his body and felt that there was no way this man could not have been crushed. His arms flailed up to grab her, when she took a dagger from her strap around her thigh and just stabbed this demon right in the chest. I saw his face grimace and the start of a scream, then nothing came out. He completely vaporized right in front of me and the only thing left was the dust swirling in the air.

This beautiful angel had just vaporized a man, okay not a man but a demon. My mind yelling “that this can’t be really, oh god this is just a nightmare.” Wake up now! I was awake, scared, I felt like I needed to vomit. My vision starting hazy. I looked to see this women stalking toward me, she seemed to glow. She had a worried look on her face and started to ask “are you okay”. My knees buckled and I started to fall. My eyes closed and that all she wrote.

I have been serving Shade 8 years since. Eternally indebted to her servitude. She showed me a world I never new existed because I lived like the rest of you in peaceful ignorance. I guess she took pity on me and took me in. Teaching me to fight and to master all sorts of weapons. My allegiance to her and her alone. To serve and protect the innocent who would feed upon their very souls.

"Life's a b*tch...so deal with it..."

Well...eight years later...

Serving Shade for the past eight years has been the highlight of my life. As I said she opened my eyes to the ignorance I once lived in, the reality that normal people believed to be fantasy. Shade taught me everything I needed to know to survive on the streets of Vegas.

Growing over time to be the serious, confident, as well as a stubborn squire, I lost that part of me that was trusting and caring back in the alley way that night.

Knowing what Shade did on the behave of humanity and she risk her life nightly without so much of a thank you made me understand just how important her life is. I couldn’t bear to live if Shade was sentenced to life as a shade. She was my mentor and my big sister I never had. So being serious and stubborn were qualities I grew to know and trust.

“Hilde take that stick out of your ass and learn to live a little, life can be so short.” Shade would always tell me. She knew how to enjoy life. This was not something that I was quite interested in because I knew that would be my first mistake, to relax, let my hair down and live a little. This is when people were killed. My job was to protect and serve my Dark Hunter.

Time past and with much encourage to be human from Shade I eventually learned to love life again. I met someone and been having a relationship with him for the past year. His name, Jared Pike. Officer Jared Pike. I won’t fill you in on the details of how we met because that is a story all its own. We were having dinner one night at our favorite restaurant, the lights low, romantic setting. What more could a woman ask for.

I felt his uneasiness, his nervousness that something was serious, seriously wrong. I felt anxious and panic that something was not quite right this night. I attempted to rid myself of this bad Karma dismiss this felling as a case of nerves. Realizing that this night for Jared was more than just being nervous but special. At least that is what I wanted to believe.

He helped me discover the beauty in life again. Allowed me to feel love and be loved with fearing someone was out to kill me. I know he was in love and to be quite frank so was I. Getting back to dinner, I could still sense his uneasiness. I touched his hand giving him the reassurance he needed. He seemed to relax just a bit and said, “Hilde, I know we have been together for the better part of a year but there is something I need to …”

My fear of loss, I needed to protect my self from hurt, I cut his speech off and became defensive. Reverting to that woman he first met. Hard and unemotional. I sensed something was really wrong and god help me he was not going to break my heart.

“Jared if you think for one minute that I will sit by and let you break my heart, than your nothing but a selfish basta…”

He held out his hand as I was talking, yelling, making a scene. Then I saw what he was holding and shut up. In his hand was a small box, he flipped the lid and inside was the most beautiful ring I ever seen. Not just any ring but an engagement ring. No wonder I felt his nervousness. He wasn’t blowing me off but just the opposite. He wanted me. Needed me. I felt the tears of frustration suddenly turn to tears of joy.

“Hilde” he said, I have loved you since the first day I met you. I fought it, I denied it, and God knows you’re the most stubborn woman I know. But you let your barriers down and showed me who you really were and I need you in my life now and always. Please marry me.”

I had a lump in my throat the size of a golf ball. I couldn’t speak. I turned to the window and could sense his fear that I was going to reject him. But how could I accept his marriage proposal. Knowing that there was a huge part of my life he could never know. As much as he thinks he knows me, he knows nothing.

Looking out the window I saw Shade running past. I stood and yelled “Shade!” She appeared to be in pursuit of something. I immediately ran to the front door and went out. Following the direction she was heading. I came across an alley, dark and this feeling of fear and dread reeked from it. I heard sounds of laughter, not laughing ha-ha funny, but taunting, mocking laughter. Evil sounding. I slowly and methodically entered the alley way. Following down the narrow path to what ended in a parking lot.

I saw Shade encircled by 5 daimons. Shade being a strong Dark Hunter and the only one I really knew, laughed right in his face and said, “Come to mama and let me make your miserable existence all better.” Yeah that was Shade. No fear. She was out numbered and held her sword above her head to the side. Smiling. Encouraging this demon to fight her.

One of these demons just laughed and said, “Oh la la, my little Dark Hunter wants to play mommy, come her and make my booboo all better than.”

With that, the daimon behind her lunged forward attempting to grab her when Shade had anticipated his moves ducted and he landed straight on the demon in front of her. I screamed “Look out”, as the demon to the side of her darted forward knocking her off balance and they rolled to the ground.
Shade took her sword and stabbed it straight through this demons black heart. He vaporized leaving nothing but dust.

One of daimons turned to pursue me, I was already running to Offer my assistance to Shade. I pulled my dagger from beneath my skirt throwing one directly at this monster but he was able to deflect it without so much as a thought. I never encountered one of these beasts before who were this quick.

Before I knew what was happening the bastard was on top of me. Striking out with my last dagger he in turn grabbed my hand, flipped me to the ground with such force that the air left my lungs. Gasping to catch my breath, my worst nightmare was about to become reality.

I heard Jared call out.“Stop police.”

God no, I thought. Not Jared. He followed me. He was so unprepared for the horror he was about to face. I wanted to yell, to run, but couldn’t get the air into my lungs. Nothing was coming out.

As I struggled to get to my feet, I saw this demon take Jared down. He fought well enough, but was unprepared for the strength of these undead and Jared’s life was forfeited due to my stupidity. I couldn’t allow this man to know the truth. I did trust this man enough to give him the benefit of the doubt that he would be able to handle the truth. His death, murder, his blood was my doing. I basically handed him his death sentence. I screamed a blood curdling cry as the daimon ripped his throat out and laughed.

Shade still fighting the group of daimons was startled by my scream, she turned and saw the innocent being taken under. Shade took one last swing of her sword taking another daimon out with crushing blow, she turn and started to run for me as I stood in horror watching this demon hover over Jared’s body. His interest suddenly returned to me and started to stalk towards me, smiling.

He was like no daimon I have ever dealt with, I believe Shade sensed this or she knew this. She came running for me so quickly, not paying attention to the rear, a bolt hole opened allowing more of the evil to pass freely to this world.

I yelled, “Watch out”. I was not quick enough. I began to fight with everything that I was. I wanted blood. The blood of this filthy race.

She stopped suddenly, arching her back, still maintaining my gaze. I had seen the smallest amount of blood just then trickle from between her lips as she mouthed the words “get the hell out of here.”

Then I saw this demon plunge his sword right through her bringing her to her knees, he was smiling when he withdrew the sword, raised it and with one blow, TOOK HER HEAD.

Things turned to slow motion then as the group surrounded me, throwing me back and forth between the group. With each pass I felt the bites, cuts they were inflicting on me. God Damn it they were playing cat and mouse with me.

I was weak, I couldn’t protect my Dark Hunter, Jared, and I fell into the arms on the tallest of the daimons and held him. I looked up into his eyes and laughed weakly. A laugh that was at the brink of psychotic break down. No, I was there!

That’s when I felt the searing pain of my life, love, failure and death calling to me. I screamed with my last breath that I would have my vengeance.

Artemis standing before me, “you have a choice. Die. OR join me in my army becoming a Dark Hunter and I will grant you 24 hours to have your vengeance, to avenge the deaths of your loved ones. Needless to say I accepted the later.

I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

She then touched my shoulder and felt the searing pain, growing with intensity; I felt the strength entering me. I could tell I was much stronger than a normal human. When she released me I had the mark of Artemis’s army on my shoulder.

I HAD 24 HOURS TO INEXACT MY REVENGE. With that I took it and began looking for any, all daimons. My blood lust was strong. I didn’t care what daimon I took down as far as I cared they all needed to die.

I left nothing behind but dust with each daimon I killed. I felt no better, no more avenged than when I began. If anything the hatred was growing with intensity.

Ash then appeared, and said it was time to begin my new life, to train to become a Dark Hunter. He made it sound as if I hadn’t a clue what life as a Dark Hunter would be. Was he serious? Yeah I’m arrogant. So what else is new?

I was then transferred to New Orleans. And let me tell you I’m not happy about it. Misery, Hate, and revenge burning with in me, that my heart is stone cold. I feel sorry for the poor bastard who thinks he/she can train me, but then again I am only here for one reason. I have just one purpose, to kill those fitly monsters that prey and suck the life out of the innocent.

Like I said, “Life’s a b*tch. So deal with it!”

Character Name: Drake Covington [played by: Darkogin]
Character Nickname(s)/Alias(s): The Preacher / Father / Preacherman
AI: Christian Bale

Description
Height: 6’1
Weight: 180 lbs
Build: Slim and lean
Hair Color / Length / Cut: Brown / Mid to Short
Eye Color: Green (Before Re-Birth) : Black (After Re-Birth)
Facial Hair: Varies
Distinguishing Features (Tattoos/Scars/Etc.): Bullet wound over heart

Birth date: June 15th, 1826
Death / Re-Birth: April 7th, 1862

Birthplace: Wallingford, PA
Parents: Lisa Covington (Mother), Charles Covington (Father) – Both Deceased
Siblings: Anthony (Brother), Linda (Sister) – Both Deceased
Home base (Pending Approval): New Orleans

Power: Mediumship / Necromancy

Detailed Personality:

Drake, or Preacher is a quiet brooding man. No one approaches him without some trepidation, including other Dark-Hunters. He is solitary and although he may not relish the lonely existence of a Hunter, he knows that he has been chosen and he carries out his mission with cold detachment.

Detailed Written Description:

Preacher is a tall man; he almost always wears a long black duster, with a black shirt and vest and black cowboy boots and a flat topped, flat brimmed hat. The only color on him is the white of his clerical collar. His dark hair and black eyes make him appear even more threatening. He carries 2 Ruger P235 Handguns as well as a Mossberg 500 “Roadblocker” Shotgun slung over his back. He has a Smith & Wesson 340PD Revolver 357 tucked into an ankle holster and he also carries an 1860 Colt Army .44 Caliber revolver, more as a remembrance than as an actual weapon. It is the gun that the Colonel used to kill him back in 1862.

The Preacher also carries a portable branding iron that he uses sometimes on Daimons that he decides not to kill, he burns his Symbol into their foreheads and sends them running back to Kalosis...with a warning for their friends that The Preacher Man has come to town and all should fear his wrath.

He is clean shaven most of the time, but that varies, as does his hair length and cut.

Detailed Written History:

Drake was born in 1826 in a small town outside of Philadelphia, PA to loving parents Lisa and Charles Covington. He was schooled in art and music as excelled at both, and his parents assumed that he would become an artist or perhaps a teacher, but instead he chose the path of righteousness and became a Minister. In 1852 he met a woman, Caroline, she was a beauty in every way that a woman can be beautiful, from her auburn hair and hazel eyes, to the loving way she cared for other people to her devotion to the man who would soon become her husband.

In 1860, before the outbreak of the Civil War, the Covington’s decided to move to Tennessee so that Drake could spread the good word to those that were in need. When the war broke out, they took no side, caring for both Union and Confederate soldiers…and arrangement that was accepted by both sides at the beginning of the war. However, when war came to their tiny southern Tennessee town of Bethel Station during the Battle of Shiloh in 1862 everything soon came crashing down. A Confederate Colonel rode into town with a detachment of soldiers and immediately surrounded the small church and house where Drake and Caroline cared for and ministered to wounded men.

The Colonel ordered all of the Confederate soldiers removed from the house and then commanded his men to board up the church, barricading the doors and windows and then to burn the buildings to the ground, with the Union soldiers and Caroline locked inside. They held Drake and forced him to watch and listen as the screams of the men and his wife were eventually drowned out by the fury and rage of the fire that consumed them all. After the church collapsed the Colonel shot and killed Drake as “an enemy of the free people of the Confederacy” and left his body outside the smoking ruins of the Church.

Artemis came to him and offered him a chance to not only exact his revenge upon the men who had taken everything from him, including his life, but to try and right some of the wrongs of the world, and to protect the innocent who cannot protect themselves. He spent the next 2 years tracking down and killing every one of the soldiers in the patrol who had survived the war, his quest became so widely known that when the tall man in black with the white collar was seen people would say “The Preacher Man is coming and hell follows after him.”

After the last of them was dead, Drake, now known as Preacher or Father turned his attention to fighting the Daimons and protecting the innocent. The Daimons know him and they fear even the sight of him, although some younger Daimons think that he is a myth, made up by Apollite parents trying to convince their children not to choose the path of Daimonhood, but they soon discover that he is all too real. He has most recently turned his attention westward towards the city of New Orleans, having spent the last 70 years of so in Atlanta, Savannah, Memphis and some of the other large southern cities.

Judgment day is coming.

Character Name: Azarius of Troy
Character Nickname(s)/Alias(s): Az, but you’d better be close with him.

Description
Dark Hunter - ARCADIAN TIGARIAN
Height: 6’7’’
Weight: approx. 270lbs. human, 550lbs. animal.
Build: Lithe, sinewy muscle packed onto thick bone and wide shoulders.
Hair Color / Length / Cut: Auburn or dark blond, kept long and often tied back in human form.
Eye Color: They used to be blue…now they’re black as night. Still, that same crystalline blue comes out in his animal form.
Facial Hair: Clean shaven.
Distinguishing Features (Tattoos/Scars/Etc.): Large, primary color tattoo over his right side and encompassing his arm into the design. It looks as if Azarius’ tattoo was done at two different times as the shades of red, black and blue are duller and more spread with his marking of the God Ares. His other symbol upon him is beautifully intertwined with the first and brighter, paying homage on his body to Nemesis.

Birth date: 1222 B.C.
Birthplace: Troy, Greece
Parents: (Living & Deceased, adoptive, or estranged): estranged and deceased…to his knowledge.
Siblings (Living & Deceased): deceased, 2 younger brothers, 1 elder sister and 2 younger sisters
Home base (Pending Approval): New Orleans

Equipment (Pending Approval): Boot-toe knife, handclaws, watch, 3 srads, and a dirk. Azarius always felt that the age-old weapons withstood time for a reason.

Powers (Pending Approval): Telekinesis

Detailed Written Description: Azarius likes wearing the color of shadows, but only if it’s expensive and soft upon his body. Granted, he’s quite comfortable with his nakedness, so when clothing is necessary, his goal is to feel as little as possible. His hair is sometimes dyed a lighter shade of blond than is natural, and he always wears it up when hunting. Born and raised to end wars, Azarius has known no other life but battle and bloodlust, and has all but forgotten the fleeting few years he spent with a true smile upon his face.

Personality Details: He is ruthless in battle, passionate as any man has ever been. Azarius does not smile easily, nor does he share information about himself or God forbid, “feelings”, with people aside from those who are very, very close with him. He loved once, but it was before his change at adulthood, and since then, his only pleasure in women is the feel of them alone. To an outsider he’d be seen as cold and arrogant/aloof, but perhaps there are reasons for everything.

Detailed Written History: No one could say that he was raised like any other in Troy. From the beginning the Fates had weaved an intricate pattern for him, and his life was never, in a sense, his own. There are always hidden powers and a silent character playing a part that is unseen by prying eyes, and that was the life he lead…until he was turned, at least.

Azarius was born into high society, though not in a traditionally wealthy sense. As his father was raised to utterly and fully serve the King of Troy, so was he raised alongside the eldest Prince to one day serve him as King. His family’s home was not inside the palace as that would fully give away their intimacies with the royal family, though they were within close proximity. He grew up understanding the importance of secrecy as well as the fact that the life set out before him was lived for another and not for himself. Close in age to Hector, when he was old enough to start his servitude, he attended the council meetings and met privately with the royal family as his father did.

There was no choice in his future. From birth he was conditioned and destined to be the silent right hand of the Prince and heir of Troy. What is held so secret is the fact that his family for generations has been not simply the final source for opinion and direction for the King, but that they are also trained assassins, working in the dark of night to keep the most dangerous threats from harming the royal family…forever. At 15 Azarius was included in the full, gruesome responsibility he was called for, and though at first he gaped and stared in wide-eyed disbelief at what he was told, he then snapped his jaw shut. His training had only just begun. Until 15 he was taught the mannerisms and scholarly pursuits only suited for the Prince himself, and then it changed. Stealth, warfare, concealment and the ability to turn even the most devastating kill into a scene looking like a natural occurrence.

He trained until he was 21. He trained with Hector and he was sent to many other locations to train with others expert in different areas of combat. He witnessed Hector’s wedding and the birth of his child, and then one day soon after he met Cassandra. A merchant’s daughter, his father was less than happy with his growing feelings and intentions with the 17 year old woman. Azarius defied him, and stayed true to himself with a plan to wed her. Passionate and strong willed beyond the brutal training he had endured, they did not last separated until the wedding day. He bed her willingly after a year of their relationship, and burned the memory of her skin and adoration into his mind. In the night he snuck out to her since they were required to wait until her elder sister was matched to be wed themselves. The two years were long, but those nights with her made it worthwhile.

At 23 he was lost once more. The woman he had loved was killed three days before their wedding. When he found her, anger and tension coursed through his veins in a heartbreaking realization that the scene before him looked so similarly to the setups he had been trained to incorporate. Returning home with eyes blazing and fury seething through his body, he questioned his father, only to hear “It had to be done” in a calm undertone.

That was the day Azarius utilized the offer from Hector to join as a commander in his army. He left home for the army encampment preparing for the inevitable war which would spring from the seas thanks to the young Prince Paris and his lusty ways. Back alongside his closest kin, he was able to force down the desolate despair from his stomach and fight. With Hector they slain hundreds as the Greeks invaded their beaches and tried to press forward. It was not until the Prince was called upon to meet Achilles in that epic battle that he felt any lurch within himself, knowing that whenever he turned around Hector would be behind him.

Hector told him that this was a solo battle to be fought alone. A sharp piercing racked his brain, causing him to hiss and grab at his head, and when it subsided, the Prince was steadily approaching his opponent. The same piercing staggered him back once again before the ground wavered before his eyes and he saw the slightest shift of the sand beneath his gaze. He could hear the clashing of metal and hostile words from the field before him, but it barely sounded over the whirring in his head. As he heard the final clank of his Prince sinking to his knees in defeat, the blond warrior proclaimed God himself standing with blade stuck into his ribs, Azarius growled and leapt forward in the oddest manner.

His stride was elongated, and when he growled he sounded to himself much like an animal rather than a human. He reached Achilles and drew his sword at the same moment he was struck down by the sharpened edge of the Greek shield. Die with honor. It was his turn to follow the only loyal kin he had truly known since he could not save him in this life. As his eyes faded away, he swore his skin held the faintest hint of striping as he looked down the length of his bloodied arm. This was his first and only mortal experience in shifting into his animal form. Not only was this cut short by the shield of Achilles, but when his own kin, his flesh and blood of the army saw the striping painting themselves over his body, Achilles was not his worry. Before his last breath was taken, what he heard and saw was the turn of his own people, approaching with swords in-hand despite the nearness of the prophesied demi-God. His last vision was of his younger brother and the leaders of the militia hovering before driving multiple blades through his battered body.

Here he was now. The Gods had heard his soul’s scream and come for him. He’d traded his soul for the ruin of his own father and the death of Achilles from this life. Those vengeances still haunt him, and he trusts no one to be loyal or close with him. Few Dark-Hunters can get through his thick wall.

Vadim is tall and imposing, as much for his gaze and demeanor as for his actual physical presence. He is toned and muscular, but not overly so. He almost always keeps his hair dark, although he has allowed it to return to blond on occasion. He keeps it cut short most of the time. His eyes are his most striking feature, a blazing blue color that rivals the sky in its beauty, although of course, he has never seen the daytime sky. Sometimes he sports a goatee, but he is most often clean shaven.


Detailed Personality Traits:

Vadim is moody and quick to anger, as a lot of Daimons are, but he reserves his deepest and darkest fury for the Dark-Hunters that he hunts. He is not a solitary man, he does enjoy the company of other Daimons and Apollites, but his temper often gets him into trouble.

Detailed Written History:

From a very young age Vadim knew that he was not going to be one of those Apollites who dies the pointless death of those who choose not to feed upon a human soul. He heard the stories of the cruelty of the Dark-Hunters from his Uncle Mikhail, who had lost his wife and both of his children. The brutality of the Hunters was driven home for Vadim when he witnessed the murder of his niece and nephew; the children of his sister Vania, killed by a Dark-Hunter for no other reason than because of what they were. Vadim could not understand why the Hunters protected the humans in the first place…most of them had died a horrible or cruel death at the hands of the “spineless livestock”, and yet when they are reborn they turn their anger towards the Daimons.

He could not understand why any Apollite would chose to die rather than become immortal…humans are nothing more than cattle for Daimon’s to live off of…and the cities, just huge slaughter houses where they are herded while awaiting their deaths. Men, women, children…it makes no difference to Vadim…and then there are the Were-Hunters…even more delicious.

He slit the throats of both of his parents when he was 13 after they chose to die, rather than to become something more, although he had begged them for months to simply feed upon the humans. They both said that that was not what they had been placed upon this planet to do and that if fate dictated that they should wither and die, then that is how it should be. Their 27th birthdays were only two days apart and as they both lay struggling to breathe as their bodies slowly disintegrated, Vadim stepped up, pulled out his knife and ended their suffering...their blood spraying across Vadim as he watched them die.

He took his first soul when he was 24...his brother Terik and sister Vania both chose immortality, like himself, although neither of them are nearly as militant as Vadim.

Vadim is a veteran of several of the major conflicts between the Dark-Hunters and the Daimons. He fought at Red Rock in 732 AD, as well as at Critingham Field in 836 AD and at the conflict that ended the open hostilities between the two sides, the Day of Tears in 877 AD in Scotland. That was the last time that forces from both sides came together in great numbers to battle each other…from then on, it was a war of stealth and surprise…ambush and deceit, a coward’s war as far as Vadim is concerned.

For years, Vadim has been pushing for renewing the war with the Dark-Hunters, instead of the stalemate they find themselves in, where dozens of Daimons are killed every day by the damn Hunter scum. The Daimons outnumber the Hunters; their technology is as good, if not better thanks in part to the ignorant humans who continue to produce better and better weapons and ways of killing things.

Vadim is a founding member of “The Venators”, a special group of Daimons who seek out and hunt down the Dark-Hunters, as well as their Squires and families. There are 12 other members, although one, Kassia was recently killed by Shayd, one of the most hated Hunters of all.

Vadim has “silent” investments in many of the world’s most powerful weapons technology companies, as well as huge stakes in YukosSibneft, the largest oil company in the world. This money has given him access to some of the best weapons and armaments in the world.

He currently resides partly in New Orleans where he has a modest but impressive house in the outskirts of the city, as well as a larger mansion in Kalosis. He spends the majority of his time hunting humans and Hunters in New Orleans, New York City and Washington DC; three places that seem not to notice when people go “missing” all of the sudden.

Birth date: May 16th 982 ad
Death: December 2nd 1062 ad
Rebirth: December 2nd 1062 ad
Birthplace: Corbridge
Parents: Deceased
Siblings: Twin sister, deceased.
Home base : New Orleans

Equipment : Tenth century sword forged of meteor metal. Unbreakable unless by a god or goddess. Bow and arrow. Silver stakes.

Detailed Written Description: Like most of her dark hunter kin, Ari loves wearing black leather. Usually she sports a black leather haltertop, black leather low ride pants and black motorcycle boots that have tiger buckles. When it's cold she adds a black leather duster that has the image of a white tiger on the back.

History.

Don't tell Ari that I'm writing this up for her. She'd probably kill me. Well, there wouldn't be much of a probably there. But that's okay, we've all got to die sometime don't we? At least I know that she'll make it quick. Nah, she wouldn't really kill me ya'll, but she'd be pretty pissed off at me for it. She'll just end up deleting it again, and I'll just repost it...again. If you haven't already guessed, this is her squire, Beth. Let me fill you in on this Huntress.

Back when Ari was still alive, she was an Arcadian Aristo Sentinel whom her father was grooming to take over for him as Regis of their tiger patria. Everyone in her immediate family was Aristo, including her father. If you don't know what Aristo is, it's the Were's equivalent to royalty. No one knows how it got into their line, but it did. As a sentinel, it was her job to police the Were's and protect humankind from the slayers. It was a job that she took seriously. For not only did she make it a point to learn as much as she could about both Arcadian and Katagaria but she made sure that the others of her pack did as well. She saw no reason to simply kill a Katagaria simply because it was one. One of the things that she learned is that the Arcadians had a nasty tendency to stab each other in the back while smiling at their enemies faces. She wanted no part of that, so she let her animal instincts guide her. They guided her directly to a Katagaria tiger clan.

This Katagaria clan of tigers didn't live far from her own home, and even though they were at war with the Katagaria, Ari took the time to get to know her neighbors. Since it was her sworn oath kill those that threatened humans or other Were's, she made this clan her business, especially since they were so close to her own clan. But what she found there was like a second home. It's also where she found Mythos, or Myth for short.

Myth was only a few years older than Ari, but their friendship grew steadily into love. Ari found herself sneaking away from her pack simply to be with him. After one such meeting, when Ari returned home, she found a mating mark on her hand. This terrified her and thrilled her. For she loved Myth with every fiber of her being. But then there was her family. This was something that her father wouldn't stand for, that her entire family and clan wouldn't stand for. For they felt that the Katagaria were nothing but beasts that needed to be put down. Somehow she managed to keep it secret for a little over a week. During that time she spent as much of it as she could with Myth. They hadn't decided at that point whether or not they wanted to claim each other. While his pack would surely take Ari in as one of their own, Ari's would never accept Myth.

The more that Ari and Myth talked about it, the more they thought that perhaps they could bridge the gap between the two clans. She would say now that she was a fool and was to young and that she was only kidding herself, that she should have known better. I just think her family is rotten to the core. Anyhow, Ari decided that she couldn't live without Myth, and was on her way to claim him. They'd already agreed that if they claimed each other, they would also bond as well. While on her way, her sentinel patrol, lead by her father stopped her halfway, dragging a bleeding Myth along with them. Her father snatched her by her hair and teleported them back to their small village. There they strung up Myth by his paws and forced her to watch as their tore him to shreds. She once told me that she screamed at her father and tried to break the hold of her clan's magic, but she was still to young to have mastered her powers completely. She still has nightmares about this, but really, don't tell her I said that. I mean, who wouldn't have nightmares about watching their soul mate being beaten to death?

Afterwards, her father skinned her beloved Myth and hung his hide in the dining hall in their village. As a reminder of what they do to the Katagaria. All it did for Ari was cause her to begin hating the very air that her clan breathed. So, two days later, she left her village and began running through the wilds, anywhere and everywhere that she could go to help mend her shredded heart. Two weeks later she found out that she was pregnant with Myth's cub.

Instinctively she knew that it was only one cub and oh how she cherished bringing a small piece of him back into this world. For over a year she hid from her family, meanwhile she gave birth to a beautiful white tiger cub. Mythos looked just like his daddy did. Except for the small heart shaped stripe on his left paw. That he got from Ari. But, since the cub was only a few months old, Ari couldn't leave where she had bedded down. She knew she would have to wait until he got a little older before she could continue being on the run. But the Fates are cruel and her clan caught up to her. They murdered what they called the half breed mongrel cub first, then her own twin sister slit her throat. I don't know about you, but that would be enough for me to scream for vengeance.

Ari has never told me what happened between her and Artemis, but she did tell me that her Act of Vengeance. She traded her soul to Artemis so that she could go back to her clan and kill them all. She cut a path of blood through every adult Arcadian in her village, starting with the Sentinels that killed her beloved Myth and their son. With the exception of her father. She let him live, along with every other child in the village. She told me she left him with a warning, so long as they never again killed a Katagari without cause, she'd let them live, but if they did, she'd be back to finish what she started. She also forced her father to step down as Regis. She claims that he didn't deserve it to begin with, that he was nothing more than a spoiled brat anyhow. Personally I can think of a few choice words to describe him other than spoiled brat.

Anyhow, that's how Ari became a dark huntress. I've served her all my life, as has my mother before me. You see, my mothers line goes all the way back to when Ari had her cub, Myth. My umpteenth great grandmother was the midwife who helped her birth the cub. She's like another mother to me, well that and an annoying older sister who stalks vampires at night.

Oh, and before I forget, if you ever see her tattoo's, the tiger and cub on her back are her mate and cub. The weird looking tattoo on her right shoulder blade is the mating mark that was on her hand for a very short time. Makes you wonder how long she stared at her hand so that she could sketch it perfectly even after a thousand years.

Helphyre, hmm where to begin with her story? She’d been Saphyre for 18 years before she became aware of her life. Not so much that she wasn’t aware of her life, more like she wasn’t aware that she had one of her own and that it was worth having. It was around the time that she was turning 10 when she realized that she was different from the other kids, not that there were many around. Her family lived on a mountain far from other neighbors or anything fun to do.

Just when she’d learned what she could do, she was shipped off during the summers to be tormented by the kids in her Grandmother’s village. The grandmother kept telling her she shouldn’t use her powers, shouldn’t lose her temper. Blah blah, and she chafed under the instruction and training. Despite the old woman’s preaching about how she should or not use her powers, Helphyre was fond of her. There was something strong about her, something that kept Helphyre in check.

When she turned eighteen she moved in with a friend from school, less than a year later her friend suddenly married her high school sweetheart. It left Helphyre unable to pay her rent, so she took out an advertisement for a roommate.

Amber was the first one who was close to acceptable and she was different than what Helphyre was used to. Vivacious and outgoing she went to nightclubs regularly, partying until early in the morning. With only a small amount of coaxing Helphyre began going out with Amber and it was a lot of fun! Finally, she was doing what she’d always imagined she would when she moved out.

Until one night everything changed, they were hanging out at a pool hall with Amber. They ran into some of Amber’s old friends and somehow she ended up kissing all over some guy. Tired of being ignored Helphyre decided to leave, as she waited for a cab she was attacked.

As she was dragged into the van, and the Biker man’s intentions became clear, she fought back. It was in that moment, that Helphyre realized something. A clear as a light switch being thrown, she knew that someone else was inside of her, someone who’d held her back. But no more! Helphyre grinned even as the back of her head hit a toolbox and things became fuzzy around the edges of her mind.

In her head a deep male voice told her that she’d been created to protect someone named Saphyre. She was a demon, part of this other person, a person who was in big trouble at the moment. She slipped free of the reins her grandmother had placed on her, those rules didn’t apply to her kind. She lashed out.

The man began screaming as flames danced over his body to more “delicate” areas, Helphyre laughed as she pulled the door open and fell out of the van onto the cold concrete of the parking lot.

Beaten and bloody she got to her feet and walked away, before turning to look at the burning car. Humming and smiling Helphyre lifted a hand pointing at the gas tank and turned around before the fireballs struck their target.

“I’m free…” She breathed happily.

Her newfound freedom wouldn’t last long; while at the hospital she found herself caged again. Helphyre couldn’t do what she wanted, but now she knew she was sharing this body with someone else. Someone weak… As soon as the drugs were out of her system she would take over again!

But even the best of plans often don’t often go as planned, and Helphyre would learn that she wasn’t the dominant person she thought she was. Each person fought for dominance, and it would be a constant struggle to stay in charge. Helphyre wore her down and was growing stronger everyday until her “other self” met someone named Ember.

Ember taught her “other self” how to control her. Helphyre wasn’t amused, and it wasn’t in the way the grandmother had taught her. Helphyre wasn’t pleased by this development, Ember actually threatened her.

Now she was at the “other self’s” beck and call, an attack dog of sorts. And it sucked! She fumed in her prison, and when she was called out she fought being caged again. She was a part of this other person, but yet she was kept on a leash, denied even. Helphyre hated this existence, now that she knew it wasn’t her own.

It had been two years since she’d been called out, she figured that she was being punished for her last outing. Until she met the man who’d told her what she was, he was her father. He loved her and certainly didn’t want to limit who she was or what she could do, a man after her own heart… or was it the other way around? He made her feel welcome and loved and she reveled in the feeling.

Now she was out once again called out in a moment of extreme duress for Saphyre. This time would be different; she was being welcomed as a whole being. She had her own body no more was she going to be restrained, enslaved or imprisoned out of fear or resentment.

She was free again, this time it was the right way to go about things. That is, until in a battle to change their fates, Saphyre had been killed and by dying she’d once again screwed everything up for Helphyre. They were tied to each other, halves of a whole and opposites in nature but without Saphyre, Helphyre couldn’t exist. As she lay dying from the wounds on Saphyre’s body, Helphyre’s soul cried out in deepest anguish.

It isn’t fair! This was supposed to be my chance to live! I just got here, DAMN them! Damn them all! At that moment she wanted revenge for all the years of imprisonment, lost chances to live a life and always having to watch the outside looking through someone else’s eyes…

“I’ll give you your chance at revenge if that is what you really want.” A female voice offered.

A chance at revenge, and to exist outside of Saphyre? Without ever having to go back? Finally Ember would pay for teaching Saphyre how to cage her… and so would Saphyre. Helphyre mulled the idea over inside her head.

The red haired woman crossed her arms and looked down at her. “Tick tick, the offer has a time limit.”

“What do I have to do?”

“You’ll serve me of course.”

“And you are?” Helphyre almost laughed. The woman was delusional if she thought she was going to go back into servitude again. Although she certainly had baited the trap with the right lure.

“I’m Artemis fool!” Artemis snapped as if offended that Helphyre didn’t recognize her. “I’ll take your soul for safe keeping, which keeps you from dying and you get your chance to get balanced.”

“You mean get even?” Helphyre quirked an eyebrow at the ditzy goddess.

“Whatever.”

“Why the hell not?” Helphyre muttered. After all it couldn't be all that bad.. what would a goddess need her to do? Feed her grapes? Guard her door? Helphyre actually had read the legends about what she'd done to suitors in the past. Sounded like something she would do. “New owner, same old leash.”

A mean smile passed over the goddess’s features as she reached down and placed her hand on Helphyre’s shoulder.

I do the same thing!!! I hate killing things... I tried to instill this in my son as well, and all was going well until a spider dropped down onto me and and went bananas and dang near beat myself silly trying to kill it. 

He looked at me and said: Mom... what happened to respecting all life?

My reply: Oh I respect it, but if it's on me... all bets are off.

That being said.. I am currently getting up every 2 hours to feed the lone survivor of a bird war. Invading birds tossed some baby birds out of a vent shaft (3), the poor lil guy (or girl) survived a 10 ft drop on to concrete 3 times. (I kept trying to put him back) his nest mates weren't so lucky. I've been feeding him warm potted meat and he's survived going on 48 hrs so far... We've named him/her Tweeter or Tweet for short.

This thing doesn't even have it's eyes open yet... he's hideous and feels like one of those wall crawling toys kids play with. You can see through his skin, so I know he's not a fledgling being taught to fly.

Does anyone have any advice?