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 Dark Days: 1888

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K
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PostSubject: Dark Days: 1888   09/06/16, 01:57 pm

The year is 1888 and, unbeknownst to most, the world is trapped in the clutches of a great war, as it has been since the dawn of time, between monsters and demons, and the few poor souls condemned to fight them. Some are born this way, though most children die or are committed to asylums before they can attempt to fight back. Some have their eyes opened later in life, such as by experiencing these horrors first-hand and surviving. Any living soul that contracts with such otherworldly creatures also possesses the ability to see them.
For whatever reason, you are on the rainy streets of London, Big Ben chiming for three in the afternoon.

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[b]Age[/b]:
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Draco
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PostSubject: Re: Dark Days: 1888   09/06/16, 05:45 pm

Name: Gideon Gunther
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Appearance: http://i35.servimg.com/u/f35/16/89/22/43/charac10.jpg Clad in http://bloodborne.wiki.fextralife.com/file/view/charred_hunter_set_small.jpg/546134918/charred_hunter_set_small.jpg
Weaponry: Threaded Cane (Primary) Pistol (Sidearm)

Biography: Gideon was born twenty nine years ago on the day of a horrible storm. The rain pounded the building as screams echoed through the halls. With the aid of his father's medical knowledge, Gideon had been delivered with nary a problem. As he grew older, he would recount images that his parents passed off as mere childish games. Gideon had heard of things known as imaginary friends and figured since his parents could not see these shadowy figures, he had these friends. His nights would grow restless as he would begin seeing these figures more and more, growing ever more closer to him before scurrying off. One night, he was visited once more, but this time the strong odor of death filled his room. It was on the eve of his seventh birthday. Like all of his nights, he expected a visit from a one of his friends. Instead, he was visited by his father. The dark was shooed away in favor of the candle placed atop the holder being held in his hand. This light transferred to the end table to the side of his bed and his bed shifted as his father's weight was added. Gideon looked on at the profile of his father and gasped in horror as his father met his gaze.

Where his left eye should have been, was nothing but the hole the eye would fill. He could faintly see something dangling from this hole and as the light flickered in the correct manner, he could see the object that belongs in the empty socket. Blood trickled from not only that, but what appeared to be most of the left side of his father's face was cut open, revealing blood stained bone. A scream came from the young boy which was greeted with the sound of something cutting through the air into the bedding beside his face. The scream ended as he looks at the blade used to silence him as it slowly raises from the bed. With eyes mimicking the moon above the house tinged with terror, Gideon attempted to kick away the covers. He had no idea what it was that was happening, but he knew that the man on his bed was not his father. He managed to get off the bed and onto the hardwood floor, the patter of small feet echo followed by heavy footfalls from his "father". In spots, the floor felt very wet but he didn't stop to check what it could be. He navigated through the darkened halls until he reached his parent's room.

He burst through the door to see a most ghastly sight. Aided by multiple lit candles, he could see the remains of his mother cut open like a fish. Another scream came from his mouth as he felt a heavy, morbid hand place itself on his small shoulder. With a grip one could only call inhuman, he was lifted and the feeling of pain shot through his frame. He could barely see the tip of the blade poking out of his stomach. It was here he passed out. A long sleep found its way to him, he had no idea if he was dead or just dreaming, but he could hear the faintest of voices say to him in a motherly tone, "What a pity that you have found yourself here. I do not wish this life for anyone, much less someone of your age. It is by no means a miracle that you survived, for you are one of the few who will hunt them. You will purge these beasts and demons and welcome those much like yourself to this life. St. Hermelin, seek this place, child. hey will give you the answers I cannot."

Gideon would awaken half startled as a jolt shakes his body. The feeling of the blade coming through his stomach reverberates in his mind and transfers through his body. Tears come from his eyes as he recalled looking at his mother's desecrated corpse on the bed she had shared with her husband of so many years. Gideon looks around after his episode and notices he is located in what appears to be a medical office. With a soft groan, he positioned himself in a sitting position on the bed. The creaks of this bed grabbed the attention of someone and their voice called out, "You're awake? That's good." A man opened the curtain in front of Gideon. A man clad in dulled white clothing came to greet him. "I wasn't told everything that happened, but I do know that your parents are dead." The man says bluntly and without much emotion. Gideon had known about his mother, but his father must have taken his own life shortly after. "You had died, but through a miracle, you came back to the physical world." The man continued as he performed a quick assessment of Gideon's health. "Do you have anyone else to stay with?" The man asks and without another thought, Gideon shakes his head.

The man pursed his lips and nodded. He grabbed a nearby sheet of paper and said, "This was given to me by the authorities. It's basically an outline of your options. In an event such as this, you're to be given to an orphanarium. Luckily for you, we have multiple due to the overpopulation problems and people giving away their children at birth. Your options are as follows; Blackwater Orphanarium, Tristain Orphanarium, Geiger Orphanarium, or St. Hermelin Orphanarium." At the sound of the name, Gideon raised his hand and put up four fingers. "St. Hermelin? I knew a few kids from there when I was younger." The man said, he then looked at Gideon with a strange sort of look. "You're not much of a talker?" To which Gideon pointed to his ear. "I... can't hear... well." The doctor's face turns to shock, but subsides, "You read lips very well, young one. I'll get the authorities out here soon to help go over the process."

It has been twenty two years since that day. Gideon was admitted to St. Hermelin where, after a test, he was granted access to the knowledge of the hunter. He would learn proper education alongside ways to fight demons and monsters alike. When he was twenty, he was transferred from St. Hermelin to a Hunter's branch in London, England. He would aid new recruits while learning the area. He is twenty nine at this current time as the bells of Big Ben chime and the steady rain hits the pavement.

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PostSubject: Re: Dark Days: 1888   09/06/16, 09:35 pm

Name: William Victor Russell
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Appearance: William is of average height and build, with pale blue eyes and brownish hair. He has dark shadows under his eyes and is clean-shaven.
His usual clothing consists of a faded brown duster-coat, worn over a black tail-coat, trousers and boots. He is usually wearing his black bowler hat.
Weaponry:
Gewehr 88
Sword-Length Bayonet
LeMat revolver
Biography: Being left at an orphanage as a baby, William knew neither of his parents. Sent off to ‘apprentice’ at a cotton mill after he turned nine, he quickly learned how to move fast to avoid being killed by machinery. He never finished his apprenticeship; robbing the owner’s son at aged eleven and running with the money. He spent several weeks on the street, stealing to survive. That was how he met John.

Rather than strike him or turn him over to the police, as William thought he would, John laughed and offered to buy him some food. All he needed in return was for somebody to watch the street that night, and to signal if he saw anything. Naturally, William agreed and waited into the night. Sometime later, well into the night, a lone woman walked up the street. William fidgeted with the old pistol in his hands, but a single woman wasn’t something to waste the signal on. As he settled down, a man leapt into view from over the buildings, groping and clawing at the woman.

The man’s appearance terrified William, his hands were clawed, and his eyes were like balls of fire. Beneath his black cloak, he wore a helmet and some sort of white garment. As the woman let out an ear-splitting scream, William fired the pistol, realising he’d heard rumours of this thing, ‘Spring-Heeled Jack’ he’d heard it called. A fire rose up through the streets, and John arrived, firing a rifle at the clawed man. Leaping at John, Spring-Heeled Hack tackled him, the impact seemingly enough to break bones. Picking up a discarded brick, William attacked; swinging the brick in an arc towards the thing’s head. Spring-Heeled Jack turned, shrieking, and slashed William across the face.

He stumbled and as Jack readied to kill him, John stabbed him from behind. It was enough to drive him off, but Spring-Heeled Jack escaped over the rooftops and into the night.

After becoming John’s apprentice, Wlliam travelled to America and Germany with John, until, on the road into France, John was shot dead. Heading on to France alone, William continued to hunt alone. He was eventually picked up by John’s order; apparently guided to William by the will of their God. William spent the next few years in France, before he finally returned to his homeland to be inducted and knighted, though as of now he is sheltering from the rain.

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PostSubject: Re: Dark Days: 1888   10/06/16, 12:27 am

Name: Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde

Gender: Male

Age: 32

Appearance:
Spoiler:
 

Weaponry: Snider–Enfield Rifle
Mortuary-Sword
Enfield MKI Revolver

Biography: Oscar Wilde was born at 21 Westland Row, Dublin, the second of three children. Until he was nine, Oscar Wilde was educated at home, where a French bonne and a German governess taught him their languages. He then attended Portora Royal School in Enniskillen, County Fermanagh. Wilde left Portora with a royal scholarship to read classics at Trinity College, Dublin, from 1871 to 1874, sharing rooms with his older brother. At Trinity, Wilde established himself as an outstanding student: he came first in his class in his first year, won a scholarship by competitive examination in his second, and then, in his finals, won the Berkeley Gold Medal, the University's highest academic award in Greek. He was encouraged to compete for a demyship to Magdalen College, Oxford – which he won easily, having already studied Greek for over nine years.

He travelled to America in 1882 until 1883 where he came to live in London. It was there he had his first run in with one of the spiritual creatures. It had been little more than a fleeting glimpse in an alleyway as he stumbled on home, drunk one night. A ghastly thing, near a man's size and shape, eating away at the body of a young woman. Wilde struck the creature with a nearby pot, felling it. Since then, he has been doomed to fight the creatures wherever he happens upon them though he has had no real tuition in the subject.

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PostSubject: Re: Dark Days: 1888   18/06/16, 02:16 pm

Name: David Trade Hissan
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Appearance: other then that of a Well built build of someone who obviously didn't go hungry much as a child, David couldn't be caught looking any other then the common in a crowd, his face, rough and sharp. Of a Moderate 6'1 height with Green eyes that always look troubled and angry and messy Brownish hair. He's accompanied by a nine o'clock shadow.
Weaponry: Knuckle buster, Mk-1888 Lee-Metford blade, Remington Model 1875 Single Action Army.

Biography: David had been seeing them weird things from a young age. Second heir to the Trade family, David was a bit of a black sheep. He wasn't as smart as his older brother and preferred physicality to pen and paper, even if he still learnt, even if he still portrayed to visitors and those alike that in there home, he was a civil servant, ready to step in and take over if anything were to happen to his father and brother. But he was always troubled because of the weird things, that's what David called the creatures of the night he witnessed as a child. The weird things. He had first met them at the age of six doe at first they were unaware, they had not noticed him as they feasted on the carcass of a stray.

But ever senice then, only he had seen them yet he remained quiet, if not gazing at them as they passed with the days and weeks and years. It wasn't till he was sixteen, sent home after getting into a brawl with the child of a rival family that he had truly understood what the weird things were. Monsters. Upon coming home, he heard a clash with screams and so he ran inside, chasing the sounds till he made it to the attic of his home, inside he had found it, a creature held both his brother a girl in hand, there eye's lifeless and the creature's mouth, covered in a mess of gore and blood. It had left David paralyzed, his eye's unable to leave his brothers. How dead they looked, how the blood on his cheek shined like essence, slowly dripping away onto the wood.

Yet, even as fear and anger and sadness overtook, David was merely a child and these weird things.. They were something more. And so, with tears in his eyes, he closed the hatch to the attic and never looked back, he gathered a small fortune and ran, ran though the busy streets of London, hiding away from his shame, from unable to avenge his brother, shame from leaving that creature to feast on anyone foolish enough to be braver then he was. And so, he turned that shame to determination, he threw aside his name of easy living and took on his mothers maiden name and for years, became a harden worker, a fierce fighter. So that the day he saw another weird thing again, one that needed to be stopped. He wouldn't run, he would do what he should have done all those years ago and fight.

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Last edited by shadowoof on 20/06/16, 09:02 am; edited 2 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: Dark Days: 1888   18/06/16, 04:11 pm

shadowoof wrote:
Name: David Trade Nissan
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Appearance: other then that of a Well built build of someone who obviously didn't go hungry much as a child, David couldn't be caught looking any other then the common in a crowd, his face, rough and sharp. Of a Moderate 6'1 height with Green eyes that always look troubled and angry and messy Brownish hair. He's accompanied by a nine o'clock shadow.
Weaponry: Knuckle buster, Mk-1888 Lee-Metford blade, Remington Model 1875 Single Action Army.

Biography: David had been seeing them weird things from a young age. Second Heir to the Trade family, David was a bit of a black sheep. He wasn't as smart as his older brother and preferred physicality to pen and paper, even if he still learnt, even if he still portrayed to visitors and those alike that in there home, he was a civil servant, ready to step in and take over if anything were to happen to his father and brother. But he was always troubled because of the weird things, that's what David called the creatures of the night he witnessed as a child. The weird things. He had first met them at the age of six doe at first they were unaware, they had not noticed him as they feasted on the carcass of a stray.

But ever senice then, only he had seen them yet he remained quiet, if not gazing at them as they passed with the days and weeks and years. It wasn't till he was sixteen, sent home after getting into a brawl with the child of a rival family that he had truly understood what the weird things were. Monsters. Upon coming home, he heard a clash with screams and so he ran inside, chasing the sounds till he made it to the attic of his home, inside, he had found it, a creature held both his brother a girl in hand, there eye's lifeless and the creature's mouth, covered in a mess of gore and blood. It had left David paralyzed, his eye's unable to leave his brothers. How dead they looked, how the blood on his cheek shined like essence, slowly dripping away onto the wood.

Yet, even as fear and anger and sadness overtook, David was merely a child and these weird things.. They were something more. And so, with tears in his eyes, he closed the hatch to the attic and never looked back, he gathered a small fortune and ran, ran though the busy streets of London, hiding away from his shame, from unable to avenge his brother, shame from leaving that creature to feast on anyone foolish enough to be braver then he was. And so, he turned that shame to determination, he threw aside his name of easy living and took on his mothers maiden name and for years, became a harden worker, a fierce fighter. So that the day he saw another weird thing again, one that needed to be stopped. He wouldn't run, he would do what he should have done all those years ago and fight.

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