вaѕιc ιnғorмaтιon»
First name: Rayner
Surname: Kerrim
Nickname: Ray
Nationality: American
Age: 20
Birthday: October 29
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Orientation: Bisexual
Occupation: Librarian


pнyѕιcal deѕcrιpтιon»
Hair Color: Raven Black
Eye Color: Emerald Green
Height: 5'4”
Weight: 116
Complexion: Pale
Blood Type: AB-Negative
Body Type: Scrawny
Imperfections: Little scar on left cheek
Tattoos/birthmarks: N/A


aвιlιтιeѕ»
Strength: 4/10
Speed: 8/10
Stamina: 6/10
Magic: 0/10
Intelligence: 10/10
Power(s)/Talent(s): Though he has no fascinating talents that he can brag about, he does have a vast knowledge about books as well as movies. After all, it’s pretty much all he preoccupies himself throughout his entire life.


perѕonalιтy»
- intimidating
- distant
- clumsy
- sweetheart
- shy
- lonely


нoввιeѕ»
He absolutely adores to read books, hence his occupation, especially since he yearns to reveal how wonderful literature is to everybody. Still, in his free time, he’s occasionally writing his own story and often discovered gulping down coffee as he stays up incredibly late, occupied with browsing through Netflix and watching horror movies or timeless classics.


ғυn ѕтυғғ»
Favorite Food: Hershey’s Chocolate Bar
Favorite Book: “Silence of the Lambs” (1988)
Favorite Music: Alternative Rock
Favorite Movie: “Silence of the Lambs” (1991)
Favorite Color: Black


paѕт»
Throughout Rayner Kerrim’s life, he has immensely experienced absolute isolation from everybody around him. He was abandoned at birth, being left at an orphanage’s door on a silent night in October with nothing but a piece of paper with what those who found him believed was his name. As he began to grow up, Rayner swiftly discovered an admiration and joyous love for literature as his head was always hidden behind a book instead of playing with the other children outside. In fact, the children were mostly a bother to him, always making irritating noises as they played their silly games and he would always attempt to find an isolated room from all their chaos in order to resume his book. Due to this, the children never suggested inviting Rayner to play with them, especially when they thought he was simply a freak for preferring to read books that merely contain pages with words on them instead of going outside. Being in love with books was all Rayner required to bother getting out of bed every day, though this lonesome personality of his made him swiftly realize that he was a kid no parent desiring to adopt would want. After all, he was already developing terrible sleeping and eating habits, refraining from consuming a lot of his meals there and wasn’t social whatsoever. Some of the children teased that Rayner must not have a tongue since he never spoke to them, considering his typical responses to them were irritated groans and depressed sighs. Still, Rayner didn’t care whatsoever. He didn’t need a family nor would he ever want to surrounded by new people to pester him. He simply craved to be by himself, always preoccupied with his books and making stories of his own. It was all he needed or so he believed. Still, deep down in his heart, he knew he would regret all of his actions especially when it was time to attend school.

Whenever school arrived in his introverted life, Rayner was introduced to a variety of annoyances. Just like the other children at the orphanage, his fellow classmates learned to leave Rayner alone. In their perspective, he was simply like a ghost who trudged through the hallways, moving from classroom to classroom and never saying a word to anybody. Sure, he might steal a glance at somebody now and then, but that was mostly because the person was disrupting his reading. Still, in terms of grades, they were absolutely superb. He never failed a test and constantly paid attention to his classes. He was offered by teachers to join clubs considering it was obvious he possessed incredible talent, though he refused each time with a shake of his head and then either continuing to head to his next class or just read once more. As the years dragged on, Rayner legitimately became almost like a shadow to the entire school. He was there but nobody recognized him nor seemed to care to. Nobody dared attempted to start a conversation to him. Nobody sat with him at lunch. Nobody even looked his way. Rayner was completely isolated from the world despite the fact he was living in it, and it was until he graduated from high school that he realized how lonely he has been, though what hurt him the most is that this was his doing in the first place.

Did Rayner intend to purposely push himself out of everybody’s life? Well, in a way, yes, yet his last two years in high school were horrible for him. He desperately pleaded that perhaps somebody would notice him and attempt to start a conversation with him so they would become the best of friends, however, nobody ever did because he was just a ghost in their eyes. He wasn’t their classmate or even a living being; he was just somebody in the background of their lives. He tried to chat to somebody one time, but instead, he approached them and immediately turned around, discovering how he had no idea how to socialize with anybody. He was awkward, anxious, and felt like nobody had similar interests to him. He doesn’t particularly regret being so in love with books that he forgot to live once in a while, but he regrets never being able to make a single friend during his school years. In fact, he didn’t know what to do with his life, until he recalled all of his stories he attended to now and then. He wanted nothing more but to become a writer, though, for starters, he began his adult life working as a librarian. After all, he didn’t desire to be surrounded by people, but books were an entirely different matter. It was the only thing he would ramble about so he felt it was his calling until he finished his novel. Now, he’s living in an apartment and making decent money he supposes, occupying himself with books and movies and whatever he could do by himself. In all honesty, this is the life he imagined he would be having ever since he was a little kid, however, the one thing he wants more than anything else is for somebody to recognize him.



[ artwork not mine; image discovered on Pinterest ]

вaѕιc ιnғorмaтιon»
First name: Wesley
Surname: Griffin
Nickname: “Wes”
Age: 19
Birthday: November 16, 1962
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Nationality: United Kingdom; British
Orientation: Bisexual
Occupation: Beast Hunter (?)


pнyѕιcal deѕcrιpтιon»
Hair Color: Cinnamon Brown
Eye Color: Sky Blue
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 112
Complexion: Pale
Blood Type: O Positive
Body Type: Scrawny
Imperfections: Freckles are spotted over his face, particularly his cheeks and nose. Besides that, he has some severe burn scars on his afters past his elbow which he keeps wrapped up in bandages.
Tattoos/birthmarks: N/A


aвιlιтιeѕ»
Strength: 3/10
Speed: 6/10
Stamina: 5/10
Magic: 10/10
Intelligence: 9/10
Power(s)/Talent(s): Wesley has been forced to study countless books containing the ways of hunting all sorts of supernatural beasts and their abilities, though he was more intrigued in personally learning magical powers revealed in the local grimoires. Due to that, he has several magical spells that he can use upon demand and his favorite of them all is presumed to be fire, which is rather unstable.
Weakness(es): Though he may be extremely intelligent and contain powerful magical abilities within him, he is otherwise powerless and is just slightly faster than the average human being. Basically, he is superior mentally than he is physically, plus he cares about things more than he should which could be taken advantage of.


perѕonalιтy»
- kind
- anxious
- soft spoken
- compassionate
- intelligent
- loving
- warmhearted


нoввιeѕ»
When Wesley isn’t occupied with a book or doodling into his notebook he constantly carries around wherever he wanders to, he could be discovered gazing up at the sky or pondering about things more than he should for his best interests. He loves to listen to classical music, typically favoring a piano the most but he never attempted to learn how to play himself. He adores animals and sometimes sketches them into his notebook most of the time.


ғυn ѕтυғғ»
Favorite Food: Toast
Favorite Book: "Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea” (1870)
Favorite Music: Classical
Favorite Movie: "Lady and the Tramp” (1955)
Favorite Color: Blue


paѕт»
Wesley Griffin was born in the year of 1961 in the city of London and immediately his father had planned several years ahead for his child. The Griffin family were notorious beast hunters that constantly carved for their next battle against the supernatural forces of the world, exhilarated by the cries of their prey and protecting humanity from otherworldly forces they deemed too vile to be allowed to live, especially when these cruel monsters murdered human beings. Due to this, the Griffin family were extraordinarily wealthy and lived in a massive mansion, though they rarely spent time on unnecessary parties and whatnot. The Griffin household was a place of training and preparation for the dangers of the world such as the evil beasts that roam for blood. Every Griffin is raised to become a monster hunter regardless of what they truly yearn to be in life as it’s the family occupation, though none had ever argued and were always willing to become whatever their father, Dax Griffin, wanted them to be. So in Wesley’s case, he had no other choice but to obey his father as well as his five older siblings, yet in his heart, even at the age of six, he felt like this wasn’t the life he wished for.

As the years past, Wesley was forced by his family to read countless books about the supernatural and all of the beasts that the Griffin family has battled in their daring adventures. Though the books were quite an intriguing read, he still didn’t desire to fight such grisly beasts, and in his mind perhaps he thought that not all of these creatures are as violent as his family claims they are. Surely there must be some that are just surviving and don’t wish to hurt anybody! When he was eight, he brought this concept up to his siblings, and they simply burst into laughter and teased him about such a ludicrous idea. In their eyes, monsters are nothing but monsters and never will be anything else, however, Wesley knew they were wrong. He just knew they were. The Griffin household had an immense library full to the brim with stories ranging from an ancestor’s biography to powerful grimoires, which the latter caught the attention of Wesley the most compared to the dull stories of his family members slaughtering beasts and whatnot. He read a few of them and learned their powers, but the one that fascinated him more than the rest was the ability to summon and control fire. Though the magical abilities of power were apparently unstable and highly lethal not just to opponents but also to the user, he disregarded their warnings since he was too young to properly understand the warning. Perhaps he should’ve paid more attention.

Whenever fire is used for several instances or over a few minutes, the powers gradually increase in their strength, however, it also becomes unstable within the user as well -- such is the case that Wesley discovered when testing his newfound powers and felt an agonizing sensation in his arms. When he glanced down, he only saw fire roaring from his arms or at least everything past his elbow, and he couldn’t help but scream from the undeniable misery. Eventually, the flames did go out on their own and his family came rushing to his attention, but his father forbade anybody to aid him because he declared that he should’ve been avoiding grimoires and focused more so on the books he chose for him to read. Thus, Dax merely said it was an issue that Wesley would have to fix by himself due to his own arrogance and neglect, and the boy’s brothers simply shrugged and went back to their own business. A roaring sensation began to overwhelm Wesley, but it wasn’t another magical or whatnot, but instead, it was an enormous grief that swallowed his heart for a few moments because he didn’t want to admit one fact; the truth that his family could care less about anybody else besides themselves and their own glory to become the best beast hunter there was. This painful moment in his life was burned into his mind forever. He wouldn’t go so far to state that he hated any of his family, but he felt ashamed to share the same surname and desperately wanted to escape from his strict life, which he did eventually plan to do so.

It was an eerie night in November, just a few days before Wesley’s birthday, that he activated his plan and fled from his home by creeping around the mansion then sprinting away once he exited the building. He didn’t take much except as much money as he could cram into the pockets of his brown jacket, his notebook he used to doodle some art or personal notes down, and the clothes on his body before he left the Griffin household. Still, when the Griffin family discovered the shocking twist that Wesley had left, Dax felt like he had abandoned what he was meant to be and felt a grave rage flowing inside of him. He vowed that Wesley would return to his family one day either by force or his own will and do what he was born to accomplish, which of course is to ultimately butcher vile monsters that supposedly deserve to die. Though he was on the run from his family as well as the local authorities that were searching for him, Wesley Griffin has never felt more free and alive in his entire life.

Now, Wesley Griffin is nineteen years old and probably could use a bit of a bath. He’s still fleeing from his family and hiding wherever he can, typically moving from location to location without much thought but just adoring the freedom he has obtained with his own actions. He doesn’t know precisely where his life will go from this point forward, but he doesn’t care as long as he gets to do what he loves and keep this absolute liberty. Perhaps he could find somebody that peaks his interest whether it be a human companion or a monster? He doesn't precisely know but all he can admit is that his miserable life has never been better.



[ artwork not mine; it was merely discovered browsing through Pinterest ]

вaѕιc ιnғorмaтιon»
First name: Nova
Sur name: Nyx
Nickname: "Gothie"
Age: 18 [ but can change depending on role-play ]
Birthday: October 18th
Gender: Female
Species: Human
Nationality: American
Orientation: Bisexual
Occupation: Musician


pнyѕιcal deѕcrιpтιon»
Hair Color: Dark Purple
Eye Color: Navy Blue
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 123 pounds
Complexion: Pale
Blood Type: AB Positive
Body Type: Slim
Imperfections: N/A
Tattoos/birthmarks: She managed to get a tattoo of an electric guitar on her right shoulder, meanwhile she also has tiny tattoos of music notes around her wrist.


aвιlιтιeѕ»
Strength: 5/10
Speed: 8/10
Stamina: 8/10
Magic: 0/10
Intelligence: 9/10
Power(s)/Talent(s): She's extremely talented with an electric guitar and actually can sing rather well even though she rarely sings, and especially not in front of other people. She is brilliant at most subjects, such as history and science, plus she is fantastic at studying.
Weakness(es): She's a sucker for rock and roll music, practically agreeing to chat with anybody as long as they know a few good songs. She easily blushes from the most simplest of compliments considering she doesn't get many despite her cute appearance.


perѕonalιтy»
- gloomy
- introvert
- enthusiastic
- kind
- shy
- talented
- intelligent


нoввιeѕ»
She frequently spends most of her time playing her electric guitar, envisioning herself to be a guitarist in the future and work for some band. Other than that, she spends the rest of her time wearing hoodies and watching her favorite television shows. She also adores hanging out with her best friend, Claire, in which they're usually at the theaters or relaxing at a parking lot.


ғυn ѕтυғғ»
Favorite Food: Cupcakes
Favorite Book: "American Psycho" (1991)
Favorite Music: Rock & Roll
Favorite Movie: "The Killer" (1989)
Favorite Color: Black


paѕт»
Nova Nyx has grown up around music her entire life. Her mother was a well renowned musician around the world, able to play countless instruments and always with such ease. She would amaze crowds from around the world, but she was unfortunately killed in a plane crash when Nova was two years old. She never recalls much about her mother except of her talented if short career as a phenomenal musician, but she always felt like her mother probably adored the fame more than her, hence she has always had a troubled mindset with pondering about her mother. Despite the tragedy of growing up without a mother, she was thankful enough to be blessed with her father who wasn't a really a musician by any means, but he did love to cook. He would always joke that the reason Nova's mother even married him was because he could bake the best cupcakes there ever was -- or at least that is what he bragged about the most. Regardless, her childhood wasn't dull whatsoever and she received affectionate love from her father.

When school began is when Nova began to wear her darker clothes, already obsessing over rock and roll and preferring to listen to it than anything else. She would be described as the school's major goth kid, but nobody made fun of her besides a few girls of course that were a "royal pain in her behind" as Nova would declare. She met Claire when she was in second grade and the two have been inseparable ever since. Claire always jokes that she is the extrovert that adopted an introvert. Nova attempted to play several instruments yet never succeeded at revealing any talent until she picked up an electric guitar for the first time, which was suggested by her father. She wasn't perfect but she was incredible despite her making a few mistakes here and there playing a song she loved. Thus, Nova began playing the electric guitar and showed off her remarkable talents later on in life when she was in high school band, already having a promising future.

Now, Nova is in her senior of high school and magnificent with her electric guitar. She is extremely intelligent considering she studies a lot and excels at most subjects. She absolutely loves Halloween and horror movies but also dabbles a lot in action films, though she will always believe that older movies are better than any new garbage that comes out -- besides a select handful of course. She dreams to become a guitarist and hopefully honor her mother wherever she might be in the afterlife, but her father and her friends shall always come first before anything else.




[ artwork not mine; character appearance inspired by Kyoka Jiro from "My Hero Academia" ]

вaѕιc ιnғorмaтιon»
First name: Abaddon
Sur name: Walker
Nickname: The Fury
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Nationality: American
Orientation: Unknown
Occupation: Serial Killer


pнyѕιcal deѕcrιpтιon»
Hair Color: Midnight Black
Eye Color: Navy Blue
Height: 173cm
Weight: 63kg
Complexion: Pale
Blood Type: O
Body Type: Slim
Imperfections: Multiple scars on his torso and back.
Tattoos/birthmarks: N/A


aвιlιтιeѕ»
Strength: 20/10
Speed: 7/10
Stamina: 8/10
Magic: 0/10
Intelligence: 6/10
Power(s): He has a staggering and immense strength contained inside his body, which he can release on command but only through his fists or at least that is all that's known.
Weakness(es): He severely underestimates his opponents and views them as nothing but irritating obstacles in his path of living the life he desires. He apparently holds a soft spot for a person in his life which can make him more irrational and reckless than he already is.


perѕonalιтy»
- grim
- hotheaded
- harsh
- rude
- serious
- daunting
- reckless


нoввιeѕ»
He is mostly discovered quarreling with anybody he comes across as he searches for his next great fight. He frequently watches violent action movies when given the opportunity. Other than that, he spends most of his time alone in complete silence where the world is far better in his opinion.


ғυn ѕтυғғ»
Favorite Food: N/A
Favorite Book: "The Catcher in the Rye" (1951)
Favorite Music: Heavy Metal
Favorite Movie: "Battle Royale" (2000)
Favorite Color: Crimson Red


paѕт»
Abaddon Walker was born into a reasonably wealthy family. His father was a scientist and thus was always working in some laboratory away from his family. The kid barely knew his father except for the brief moments they chatted, though Abaddon believed he was an a**hole and attempted to stray away from such irritating conversations. In fact, the boy tried to spend all of his time alone in his room, either occupied with reading stories in order to expand his knowledge or listening to heavy metal music -- but his annoying sister halted most of that. Tabitha Walker was always so joyful and energetic, compelling her brother to accompany her somewhere or to do something ridiculous like play dolls with her. A smile never left her face and he absolutely despised that about her, but he secretly did sort of enjoy her the times they spent together. Abaddon went through school and got into countless fights with other students to the point that people were terrified of the male, cautiously strolling by him in the hallways and none ever dared spoke to him. Of course, his sister who was only a year older lingered around him but he allowed her to do so. His school life was quite dull since nobody said anything to him but none of that mattered since when he became eighteen years old is the moment where he finally expressed himself freely to the world.

Abaddon couldn't help but love the thrill of fighting and the excuse for a new battle popped up when Tabitha was being abused by her boyfriend. He couldn't care less about her but the idea of pounding the douche to nothing made him instantly rush to his next conflict. Still, the fight turned ugly when his fist abruptly went through the teenager's torso and blood gushed all over the area around the two. He thought he was some normal nobody floating around in life but now he realized he actually had a power -- and he was prepared to do anything with it. His murder spree began and he knew who to kill next. He went home and gave his father a warm welcome by using his immense strength to beat him to death with only a few hits. He didn't intend to kill his mother but of course she wasn't going to ignore the fact that her beloved son just murdered her husband, and thus Abaddon eliminated her as well before visiting other people he hated and murdering them so easily. Afterward, he hid from the police that were swarming over the town to find him while he hysterically laughed at the gore that was splattered on him. His hands were covered by the crimson liquid and he couldn't help but admire them. He couldn't stop his frightening laughter for what felt like an eternity for him, gazing up at the night sky and realized that the world is cruel -- but he was going to make his life not follow what the world wanted to do to him. He was going to live the life he craved for no matter what and he would have his freedom to do whatever he pleased, and nobody could stand against him with his new power. He was about to give the world a middle finger.

Though Tabitha was left to survive the whole ordeal, he believed that she should hold that curse as he began his life in solitude as a murderer, wandering from city to city and making a mess everywhere he went. It was during his travels where he developed an unnatural appetite, curious whether or not the blood of his foes tasted as lovely as the the appearance. He never touched the flesh or his victims but he would lick the blood on his hands, adoring every second though he no longer laughed. In fact, he began to permanently have a bland expression as if he was completely heartless -- yet that was perfectly fine in his opinion. He lived a life stained with gore and vicious conflict, but he found pleasure in whatever he did so again everything was just perfect. Society wasn't going to control him with laws, especially when foolish lawmen attempted to halt him for his crimes and he would just obliterate them like he did with everybody else, nor would nature stop him. Abaddon was living a child's violent dream -- and it was absolutely beautiful.

"I'm sorry that you'll never experience what it's like to kill you."

The unfortunate sod on the floor twitched, the crimson blood gurgling in his throat as he extended his hand to the male standing over him as if the demon would save him. Maximilian chuckled, his terrifying teeth glistening from the moonlight that illuminated the office before leaning down and gazing into the dead man's eyes.

"If it makes you feel any better," the murderer mumbled in his British accent, "perhaps I'll see you again and we can go dine somewhere classy, eh?"

The oaf suddenly let his last breath slip though his parted mouth before his fidgeting halted. Maximilian sighed in relief before standing back up and peeking out the window, noticing a few more goons had arrived in their suits and armed with automatic weaponry. The look on their faces when they saw the mutilated corpses sprawled about the warehouse's entrance made him laugh before he crept into the shadows, his ruby colored eyes witnessing the gunmen enter the warehouse. There was only five of them so for Maximilian this was going to be extremely simple. The goons carried Thompson M1 machine guns, weapons which can shred through normal mortal but the thing is the demon obviously isn't no mortal being, constricted by the laws of life and death. It seems more like he was death itself in a way, the harbinger of destruction -- but that's a future goal in his bucket list. He was occupied with making these men scream at the moment.

The five men were closely packed together, each watching a side of the building as if believing they were prepared for whatever killed the men. Sadly, they must be expecting a few hostiles to pop out and armed with guns, but Maximilian didn't require some petty weapons. He was his weapon. He leaped off a pile of crates, thrusting his hand forward at the group and felt the kinetic force zoom from his hand to the idiots, sending them flying and reveling in their shocked screams. One fired his weapon as he flew, sending bullets into the ceiling before his neck cracked on the edge of crate. The demon bolted for the closest fool, snapping his fingers to cause flames to burst in his right hand and squeezing the man's face, a grin forming as the poor henchman's face began literally melting off and smoke rose as he could nothing but scream til his demise. The three remaining stumbled to their feet and Maximilian was swift to grab the gun from his nearest victim and use his telekinesis to hurl at lethal speeds at a dazed man, the gun shredding a bit through his head but ultimate not all the way through, but it was enough for the new corpse to slump to the floor.

The last two survivors fired their guns, the bullets spraying all over the place as they took no heed to aim. Maximilian merely yawned and began strolling over to them, allowing a few bullets to pierce his chest and one which scraped his leg. Blood oozed from his wounds yet he didn't stop or show any excruciating agony from the wounds that would probably kill a man.

One of the two exclaimed, "He's not human, Vinnie!"

Poor Vinnie wouldn't respond though since Maximilian placed his hand on the goon's chest before releasing another wave of the violent kinetic energy, causing bones and organs to rip from the flesh and create a hand sized hole in the back of him before he himself flew through the air once again, his guts splattering on the wall.

"Vinnie will get back to you later, alright love?" Maximilian chuckled, raising both his hands at the final attacker.

"No," the man screamed before falling on the ground, slowly crawling back. "Please, don't do this! I got a family! Please, God no!"

"Sadly, I'm not God nor do I give a damn."

The thug wanted to probably beg again but Maximilian shut that sh*t down by letting flames shoot from both his hands, roasting the bastard alive as he rolled about and screamed before his life ended and the flames continued to cook him. Maximilian closed his eyes and was disappointed the conflict took only a minute or so. The goons had accomplished their goal of discovering who killed their second-in-command, but sadly they failed in telling their boss who will be sh*tting his pants tomorrow. After all, Maximilian was meant to kill him and not these fools, but he couldn't help himself! He wanted to strike terror in their ranks so their screams would be all the more satisfying tomorrow when he would slaughter them all and accomplish his task. Then again, the demon just enjoyed killing a bit and perhaps he just wanted more death. He opened his eyes and saw the corpse of his last victim still burning, and thus he made sure to keep his distance. He loved his powers of fire, but flames did always scare him since they're entirely untrustworthy. After all, they do just burn whatever they want and he didn't want to be in their path of destruction, though regardless they can do impressive work.

Maximilian's job here was finished and he paced towards the exit, the grin still on his face and his blonde hair flowing with the wind that howled from outside, blowing through the exit's doorway. His life ended when he murdered his family and the cops walked in on him consuming their corpses but that didn't mean he was going to rot in Hell. Instead, he was going to bring Hell to the surface where he can revel in death and destruction -- and he wouldn't want it any other way.

----------------------------------------------------------------

I really just wrote this because I was bored and wanted to show off my newest character I suppose a bit. Maximilian Grimband, the demon who's afraid of fire and a unique hitman, indeed.