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 Name: Damien Thistleburg
Age: 25 Species: Slayer Personality: Damien is a proud individual, so much so, that it's considered to be his true sin in this world of the supernatural. It doesn't surprise the few people that he encounters that the pride comes attached to the arrogance which is plainly driving him forwards, while determination helps fell the few vampires that he can get his hands on. Damien is an individual who will not take any nonsense from people; he is direct and brusque in many aspects, and let's just say that his past and his becoming of a Hunter has hardened the Slayer greatly as he no longer sees the optimism's point of view so readily and easily. Oozing with confidence, Damien will continue to walk the streets with his head tall and proud, while the black leather jacket remains opened, revealing the hardy body, that is slightly decorated with one or two tattoos here and there. He knows about what he does and that's all that counts; it can, however, be noted that this individual has a swift poisoned tongue that can manipulate and bend words of truth into that of deception and temptation, which he uses to get what he wants at the end of the day. Background: Not many know about the secrets that this rogue holds locked beneath the chains that circle around his heart, and it is these secrets that may cause a more understanding view to fall over the heinous crimes that this young scoundrel may have encouraged. Let us begin this tragic tale of a human’s life when dear old Damien was nearing the age of nine years old. Damien woke with a start, his breathing heavy and his eyes wild with fear. His slender little arms propped him up into a seated position upon the soft mattress upon which he lay, and he stared about the room, moving his eyes quickly from corner to corner in search of the shadowy figures that had haunted his dreams. A deep gulp of air attempted to slow down the racing heart and the flow of air into his lungs, which screamed in agony as more and more oxygen flooded their spongy tissue. The dream he had had, had been devastating to say the least; blood had fallen from the ceilings upon his brow, while faces were torn from the skulls and printed upon the walls; the overactive imagination had also caused the shadowy figures to close in on him, chasing him further and further up a spiralling staircase that lead to a high tower, which looked out over the small English town in which he grew up. He had started tumbling into oblivion before he woke up in this sweaty state. With his lip trembling and tears rolling from his eyes down to his cheeks, he snuck out from under the covers and tiptoed his way towards his parents’ room. With a shivering, dainty hand resting upon the brass handle, he yanked it down and bolted into the room, making sure to shut the door tight behind him. He yelled for his mother, tears falling freely now as he stumbled towards the edge of the bed. Gripping onto the sheets, he entwined them around his little fists while wailing all the same. However, there was no warm compassionate smile to greet him, no arm to welcome him into bed where he would be able to slumber within the confines of his mother’s arms. Instead, all that remained there was a still bed, whose pillows seemed almost untouched by the human head, and the sheets were barren and neglected. Damien’s eyes opened slowly as he realized that his pleas and cries had fallen upon deaf ears, and had gone unanswered. Rubbing the tears from his red, puffy eyes, Damien pulled himself up onto the bed which belonged to his parents. No one was there. A sense of panic began to infiltrate the young boy’s body as he darted around the room, but still, no one came to usher him back towards his bed. Overwhelming grief washed over the young boy as he huddled up in the corner, tears of defeat caressed his cheek, and he stayed there until the morning, mourning and pining for his parents. Days faded into non existence as Damien remained within the haunted house, starvation had reached its peak and the poor boy was left fragile and thin. Rumbles and roars broke the shuddering few moments of sleep that had passed over the exhausted frame of the boy; it was this same ravenous lion that erupted from his stomach that drove him to leave the confines of his house. Wandering across the streets in search of a decent meal, Damien found himself sneaking into the back doors of the restaurants and snatching up the scraps of food that granted him a few moments of serenity and indulgence as he feasted upon the fatty leftover meat, and the bones that had only a few strands of meat attached to them. He lived like this for two years, avoiding social workers by diving behind trash bins, and the few that had tried to chase him and capture him, he eluded by climbing up rickety ladders and staircases that lead to the roofs of many flats deep within the slums of the city. He was on the brink of turning thirteen when he was founded by a street gang of thieves who had either lost their parents to some fatal accident, or run away from home. Impressed by his movements and agility when sneaking into deserted apartment buildings via the roof and windows, and his ability to spring from roof to roof, the gang accepted him into their ranks and it was with them that Damien learnt his thieving and manipulative ways. It was in this gang that he met the gang leader, Sven, who became his father-like figure, and his son, James, who had become like a brother to him over the days, months and years that had slipped away. Damien grew into a strong and cunning young man that was able to scour the streets of the city, and by the time he turned twenty, Sven had united him with a powerful machine that would be able to swiftly carry him from the cries of the sirens of the police. The motorcycle was a royal red and black, with white finishing dividing black from red, fitting for the man that he had become. A gentle inhale of the black wrapped cigarette, which was held between two fingers, caused the end to burn bright orange as he examined the motorcycle with the fine perspective eye. As he grew, Damien’s character was unleashed. Enjoying the women and the finer things in life, his forked tongue began to possess an enchantment that could deceive anyone, and it was through this that he started getting what he wanted without having to put too much effort into achieving it. Sven, who was now growing older every day, decaying into a withering shadow of the man who he once was, remained extremely proud of the son that he adopted, so proud, that he abandoned his own child’s rightful heirlooms and blessed Damien with control of the gang of thieves. Utterly disgusted by this act, James left the group, and what became of him, still haunts the conniving con-artist’s nightmares. But with control of skilled hands, the gang soon became feared and renowned within the city; everyone knew them as the Vipers for they were just as ruthless and merciless as the majestic snakes, which lead to the tattooing of the viper upon his shoulder and back. Damien was at his prime; he was powerful, dazzling, charming and well, he was good at what he did. With the introduction of weapons, the crimes became bigger and more planned, explosives were developed and planted in the desired locations, and everything seemed to be working out perfectly for the next couple of years, however, all good things have to come to an end, right? James had been lost to some bad dealings with dark folk that roamed the streets of the city. His soul had been the prize, and now, he became one of the Bitten Vampires that haunted the cities. Still riddled with hatred for the one whom his father loved more, James set out, with a company of Blood Thirsty creatures, in search of this notorious gang, the Vipers, with the intent to kill and torture every single member, leaving the leader for James. And it was the one night, when the rain was rocketing from the heavens above, that the attack on the vipers was launched. Swift and silent as the shadows themselves, the Turned approached the slumbering bodies of the gang, slitting their throats and watching as they choked upon their own blood, drowning in it as they never woke from their sleep, before dipping down slowly and feasting upon that crimson liquid. Only one of the Vipers wasn’t there, the gang leader, Damien. James searched high and low for the man, but he could not find him. Blood coated the apartment’s floors, and splattered across the walls and windows. As James was turning over the last corpse, the door creaked open, and the target lay there in sight of the darkling’s black forsaken eyes. Instantly, James rose to his feet and allowed a sickened snarl to escape his lips. Staring on, in horror at the scene before him, Damien lay almost rooted to the spot as James stalked his prey, moving closer each time. It was as James propelled himself towards the fear-stricken man, that Damien finally found control of his limbs and sprinted to the side, leaving fangs and claws left with nothing to rip through other than the still air that stank of death. Swiftly, Damien ran down the stairs, leaping down them two, three at a time. His breath was snagged in his throat and his eyes remained dry of needed tears. The Bitten and Lamia followed quickly, moving with a speed that was much greater than his own. Reaching the motorcycle, which was still loaded with the keys in the ignition, Damien jumped upon it and twisted the keys. The engine roared to life before launching off towards the roads, bobbing and weaving through the few traces of traffic that stood in his way. It was from this moment forth that Damien would be faced with one purpose, one goal in life, and that was to put an end to the tyranny of James, and the other creatures of the night that dared to stand in his path.  Name: Alessea Thorrington
Age:21 Gender: Female Species: Bitten Personality: Alessea is a curious girl with a compassionate personality. It was those same kind-hearted gestures that landed up to be her undoing as she was converted into something that many humans only heard in fairytales and other mythological tales of fantasy and tragedy. Before her transformation, Alessea was a sweet, light-hearted, energetic girl who had everything to live for. There was never a dark cloud that could dampen her spirits as she always saw that silver lining that indicated a profound sense of hope in her eyes. She was extremely optimistic and never saw people as being bad, just misunderstood and lonely. Doing her best to offer that helping hand, Alessea took part in many soup kitchens in order to help those that are less fortunate than herself. She falls in love easily, and is swept off her feet reasonably easy. Once she was bitten, however, Alessea suffered through a personality change as she seemed to adopt a liking to a more aggravated temper, although she is still a sweet heart, she has more of a fighting spirit now that knows how to defend herself and when to defend herself, unlike the past when she was a soft push over. She’s sort of defiant now, possessing a will of her own, and now she cares for herself. Overall, the diligence and hard working attitude that this woman posses has never once faded as she made the transition from Human to a Bitten Vampire. History: Alessea Bailey sat quietly in the corner of the arts and crafts room; a paint brush was clutched tightly in her delicate, pale hand. Each brushstroke seemed to tell a tale of its own, each sweeping motion could only be compared to liquid movements of water. A content smile was plastered over her pale porcelain face, platinum curls bounced on her shoulders in the most adorable manner ever. The young thirteen-year old girl held the appearance of a true porcelain doll. She was beautiful to the eyes, and if anyone could ever be greeted with the most delightful manners, it was Alessea that many adults seemed to coo over. Those large blue-green eyes were captivating and seductive at the same time, willing people to be totally attracted to her petite little frame the moment that they laid eyes upon her. However, the many people that came in to the adoption agency, all those hearts that had been stolen by those pleading eyes, never seemed to hold their ends of the deals. Alessea Bailey was an extremely shy young girl that was almost completely terrified of everything due to the past events that still stole her mind’s eye during the night. You see, her parents were both murdered, slain like beasts, before her young eyes. The youthful mind couldn’t comprehend, at the young age of ten-years old when the dastardly crime was committed, what had happened. All that she knew was that her mommy and daddy were gone forever. April 1995: Alessea rolled over in bed with her special Lambie tucked safely in her arms; her porcelain face was snuggled up to the warm wool that the little lamb stuffed animal was made from. A peaceful look crossed the sleeping child’s face as her imagination was actively sprouting a mythical world within her dreams. Her mother sat on the edge of her bed, admiring the little princess that was tucked away and flying into the dreamland that tore the young child away from the crimes that were being committed around the world. A tender, loving hand slowly caressed her child’s white-blonde hair, moving it away from the doll-like features of her petite face. Before she rose to her feet to take her leave from the room, Mrs. Bailey leaned across her daughter’s body, allowing her pale lips to gently touch the slumbering child’s forehead. A final admiring glance was directed over her shoulder towards the little angel before she snuck towards the closed door. Once on the other side of the black room, Mrs. Bailey carefully pulled the door shut, careful not to make the slightest noise. Once she had achieved this task she turned around and almost jumped from fright. Behind her, with a triumphant grin on his handsome visage, stood her husband – Ivan Bailey. “How is our little princess?” He asked her in a hushed whisper so as not to disturb their little daughter’s dreams. Ivan advanced forwards, wrapping his arms around Sarah’s waist and pulling her into a tight embrace. He nuzzled her neck affectionately, causing the attractive woman to stifle a chuckle as she playfully pushed him away. “She’s all cuddled up and already in a dreamland of her own.” Sarah said with a satisfactory smile before casting those affectionate eyes towards the door, where her daughter was snuggled safely away. The pair fell into a warm embrace once again, this time lips met lips with a passionate fire, which ignited almost instantaneously. Hissed chuckles and suppressed laughs flew through the air as their mischievous games had begun, and before they knew it, they were creeping towards their own bedroom hand in hand. The door clicked shut behind Ivan as Sarah casually walked towards the bed that lay beckoning the two towards it. The light switch was flicked off, and darkness veiled the two adults in their passionate embrace. The old grandfather clock that was situated in the entrance hall, an inherited item from Ivan’s deceased father, chimed away as midnight approached. The house remained still and silent with only the gentle summer’s breeze rustling the leaves of the trees in a peaceful manner. Crickets sang their merry songs, while bats screamed for their prey. The world outside was serene and tranquil; however, this beautiful silence was soon to be disturbed by the growling thunderous roar of intruders breaking the doors of the calm, still sanctuary. And there it was: The ear-splitting crash of wood splintering, the unmistakable pound of these hooligans wreaking havoc on the beautifully kept home. Hushed whispers chorused between the three masked figures, which were all adorned in pitch black, and eventually a finger was pointed towards the stairs. The finger was veiled in a thick, leather black material that masked the fingerprints that would be left on the various objects that were touched and destroyed. The brutal sound of a shotgun being cocked broke the deadly silence once again, before the safety latches were removed from the other pistols and handguns that the assailants each possessed. They sauntered up the stairs, using surprisingly tactical placement of their bodies as well as their footsteps. Not a single sound was muttered after the splintering of wood that announced their arrival. Not even a squeak escaped the wooden stair case as the demons dressed in black ascended towards their targets. In the master bedroom, the pair remained locked in a warm embrace. A gentle smile was painted over the woman’s lips as she was obviously in a world of wonderful dreams, however, bright hazel eyes remained opened. The hazel eyes belonged to Ivan. There was no doubt that an unspeakable dream, nightmare, had pulled him from his sub-conscious and back into reality. All he could remember was the smashing of a door, figures dressed in black... and then... lots of blood, blood that poured from the large gaping wounds gouged into his wife’s once luscious body. It was then that he felt a choking sensation enveloped him, drain him of life. It was that moment that he awoke with a slight jump, eyes flicking open immediately, gazing around the place almost as if he had just woken up from a long slumber. There was nothing, no one. He turned his head ever so slightly, so as not to disturb the pillows that supported his head; his eyes fell over the peaceful form of his wife. Her chest and her sides rose and fell rhythmically signifying the restful state she was in. It was clear that her dreams had consumed her so that she did not feel or hear any of the harsh breaths and muffled moans that had escaped Ivan’s lips only moments before. Suddenly, the doors burst open and both man and wife were thrown from the few seconds of peace. Eyes blinked wildly around the place as they tried to focus on the blurred figures that had surrounded their beds. Sarah’s screams were muffled by the sound of leather stuffing into her mouth as a large hand swept her away from the struggling fingers of her husband. In a moment of red splashes and splatters, grunts and groans, the two now lay limp in the corner of the room. It was the little girl that stood in the doorway, eyes filling with crystal tears as she looked upon her dead parents bodies. The heart of the leader of this occult felt his heart torn into two as his eyes fell upon the defenseless little girl who stood glued to the ground. Slowly another member of the blood bathers approached her, hands out stretched and a ravenous look in his eye. However, before he could close those grimy hands around the poor girl's body, he was stopped short with a warning look from the main person, who stood out amongst the rest. Slowly, he approached her, a smile clearly noted upon his lips as compassion fluttered through his deadened eyes. "Come here child." He said soothingly, kneeling upon the floor and opening his arms in a warm, fatherly manner. Alessea, tortured with grief instantly rushed forwards into the vampire's arms, tears rolling down her cheeks. From that moment forward, he adopted her as his own, transforming her into one that bore the name Bitten... |
