Fandom ─── ❝ shadow of death ❞

[Kveykva]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

i will fear no evil ━━━━━━

there's always more than what meets the eye
SquigglyWiggly × Kveykva​

 

[Kveykva]

General Information
Full Name: Nicholas Storm
Nickname: Nick
Age: fifty-six; appears mid-thirties
Gender: male
Birthday: september twenty-third
Species: horseman of death
Sexuality: pansexual
Symbols: the pale horse; the inner eye
Themes: Jeff Tuohy - Bourbon Street
Poor Man's Poison - Wayfaring Stranger

Powers/Abilities
▸ death inducement - can cause death of any person; grows more powerful by the deaths of others.
▸ necromancy - raise and control any number of undead, generally only rivaled by other death domain gods. can also bind other summoned undead to his will or banish them with little effort.
▸ necroscience - incredibly knowledgeable about the spirits he summons, especially on the topic of their death. can also sense deaths that have occurred in a person's past.
▸ death sense - can sense the coming of death and determine when someone is dead or dying if they are within a certain proximity. can also sense mass deaths and determine if an item was either used or present during one. summoning spirits specific to these locations is notably easier.
▸ general status - similar to death sense; sense direction and distance of living or dead beings and any conditions affecting them, such as unconsciousness or injury. by extension, he can "feel" the pain and emotions of these beings to a minor degree. this ability also extends to his death sense.
▸ object memory - can use items belonging to individuals to find their whereabouts or, if they've passed, easily summon their soul. he can also draw memories and sensations from the items relating to the person. the more special the item, the more powerful and clear the memories are.
▸ limited umbrakinesis - can manipulate shadows in his immediate vicinity to cloud his appearance, fashion clothes, darken a room, or shadow travel, but giving more substance to shadow is beyond his abilities.

Items of Note:
▸ birthright - an amulet consisting of a brilliantly polished blue gemstone and a silver chain; the gemstone is framed in silver and engraved with a gold avian crest. it never leaves his person.
▸ signet ring - represents his position as a horseman; a wide, rounded ring made of cold iron with the Inner Eye symbol stamped into it.
▸ Xaliphax - the pale horse. takes the form of an off-white, ivory-colored Akhal-Teke stallion with black sockets instead of eyes, and its presence makes people and animals alike anxious. it can also take a more modern form of a '67 Ford Mustang Fastback of the same color. is a fickle creature who enjoys being treated like royalty and often is uncooperative with his master for fun. in the end, however, his loyalty is to Nicholas.
horse | car

Other:
Likes: birds, music, leadership roles, snow
Dislikes: rain, disrespect (backtalk especially), the thought of eating eggs or poultry, arrogant or show-offish people who can't back themselves up
Fears: rats (ironic, isn't it?)
Fatal flaw: Since Nicholas ascended to his role as a horseman rather than being born into it, there's been quite a bit of an adjustment period. Instead of brooding in the depths, he chooses to live in the world among mortals. While anyone could brush off this as his destructive nature feeding on the pain and suffering of the Earth, it's something different. He leaves himself open and vulnerable to these experiences through his choices because he never wants to forget where he came from, and he clings to what little humanity he has left instead of completely embracing his destiny. As a result, he limits himself from becoming nearly as powerful as he could or should be in his position.

Physical Description
Nicholas stands taller than most at 6'2 and has a thin, waifish build, but strikingly attractive features. He comes off looking rather harmless, but his divine aura is another thing entirely. It boasts presence and power when in effect, demanding all attention. People feel this aura most strongly when looking into his eyes, which are a deep shade of lavender. He also carries a pair of large, bladed wings reminiscent of volcanic glass. They are sturdy enough to block attacks and sharp enough to serve as weapons on their own, but he is incapable of flight. Nicholas has thin black hair, which is cut just above shoulder length, pale skin, and teeth like a military cemetery. Nicholas has rather refined tastes when it comes to his clothing choices. He prefers suits, slacks, and ties on occasion. His outfits always match, though they usually have a muted color palette.
full reference

Personality
Though he wasn't in the past, Nicholas is confident and lively with a knack for showmanship. He likes to enjoy the little things and isn't often put down over minor inconveniences and the like. He rarely plans ahead and prefers to take things as they come, curveballs and all. He's open and outgoing, especially with larger groups of people, and lives for public speaking. He's incredibly persuasive and charismatic, but he's also quite impulsive, which frequently can get him into trouble. Though he can seem a little absent-minded at times, Nicholas is calm, collected, and rational, especially when a situation demands it. More often than not, he'll allow things to take their course if whatever it is doesn't affect him or others he cares for, but he does enjoy seeing how certain things play out, as it helps him pass the time until the Last Judgement comes to pass. He thrives in the position of a leader and uses the undead as his pawns, as he usually tries to avoid combat himself. He's a natural diplomat, capable of spinning all kinds of stories and talking his way out of the very same situations he got himself into.

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

General Information
Full Name: Reed Arlette
Nicknames: Pitbull (Very rare occasions, Ree Ree)
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Birthday: October 13th
Species: human
Sexuality: bisexual
Themes: Gerry Cinnamon - Sometimes
Mother Mother - Life

Skills:
-While possessing the limitations of a human, Reed makes up for it with creative solutions and an ambitious and eccentric nature most hunters find off putting and slightly suicidal.
For example, once Reed marked a Devil trap onto a bathmat and rolled it out in front of a group of charging demons. They all piled in on one place squished together and its been a minor goal of Reed's to do something equally as stupid and brilliant again.
-He has hand to hand combat experience and as a hunter he has remarkable marksmanship.

Items:
-He possess a good luck charm he has coiled into a bracelet he wears on his left hand given to him by his older brother. Many people joke its the only reason Reed isn't dead yet.
-As he takes further and longer trips from home its becoming apparent his steed of choice, the Kawasaki versys, won't be able to sustain him and all the weapons he has to take with him. At this point, the limited storage space and the dirty laundry are the only reason he ever sees family. Soon he'll have to let his bike go or stay around for good and he can't decide which is worse.

Physical Description:
Standing at 5'9" Reed is one frustrating inch from the male average. To make up for it he's become rather stocky and muscly and some like to call him Pitbull or Gym Rat. Match that with tired raccoon eyes, dark hair, nearly perpetual yellowing bruises and a five o'clock shadow and you have Reed. Generally, he always looks like he's coming off of a bender, but its him on a good day. His fashion of choice is comfort over anything else, but he still cuts a good look out of blue jeans and a leather jacket.

Other:
Likes: anything sugary, cats, murder docs, driving down windy roads listening to music
Dislikes: pretentious people, people in general actually, people that eat with their mouth open (except he does this)
Fears: the creeping feeling humans are at the bottom of the food chain and hunting isn't only self destructive for nut jobs like himself who need therapy, its redundant. Also dying alone and becoming a ghost is on this list and he isn't a big fan of spiders either.

Personality
Generally, a mess. Reed is impulsive and can often rush into things, good or bad. Patience isn't his strong suit and he occasionally has troubles with anger management. He has almost no people skills, making the interrogation stage of most hunts a frustrating and timely affair. A troubled childhood and obsession with being the best hunter has crippled him with low self esteem he carefully hides behind a cranky exterior or utter nonsense. Ironically, he has trouble not getting close to people and he overshares too early in a relationship and lies awake at night wishing away the general unease that comes from telling strangers things he can't even admit to himself.

 

[Kveykva]

res side characters as needed

 

[Kveykva]

Morgantown, Pennsylvania. It was an unassuming, sleepy little town - a living graveyard, so to speak. It was far removed from everything stale in the world, which is what Nicholas appreciated from it. What he didn't appreciate were things disturbing his peace.

"Cause of death? Blood loss." The coroner dropped his hands to his sides. "Don't know what else to tell you. He's got a massive injury to his carotid artery and was probably dead within a few minutes. His brother came by to see him, which was pretty weird… I didn't even know he had a brother." Fredrick Burns was somebody Nicholas knew about as well as anyone else in Morgantown, but that's because it was one of those places where everybody knew everybody. It wasn't far-fetched for the deceased to have a brother he hadn't heard of, if said brother was from out of town. Something about all of this didn't sit right with him.

"What I don't understand," Nicholas continued, speaking to an empty room. "are these gashes along the throat. Post-mortem, so obviously not what did him in. Animals don't really do this kind of thing, you know? Big cats play with their food, but not after it's dead. At that point, it's just - food." The police pinned the blame on a wild animal, but Nicholas knew better. An animal maybe, but not a cougar or a grizzly. And he wasn't sure this was a can of worms he wanted to get into.

The rest of the day following was fairly uneventful. Besides his estranged brother, Frank didn't have any relatives, so the only real visitors he'd had regarding the case were police and some variant of animal control Nicholas didn't care enough about to remember the proper name. He knew most of the officers very well, given the amount of work he received from them, but any other branch of the alphabet soup was out of mind for the most part (as if the local PD could be lumped in with the FBI). Once they'd all had their fill at the crematorium, Nicholas closed his office for the day and spent the next couple of hours filling out paperwork.

"Do you have any plans for tonight?" A woman's voice came from the front desk. Nicholas scribbled his signature onto the paper on his desk before setting the pen down. "Not particularly. Clean up. Go home." he spread his hands. "The works. Why do you ask?"

"Only curious is all," she responded. "This seems like it's been bothering you." He nodded. "A little, but I don't think it's something I want to stick my nose into for sanity's sake. Maybe if I knew him better, but at the moment? My hands are staying clean." His secretary didn't seem satisfied. "What about his brother?"
"Eh? What about him?"
"You might not of known Fred personally, but his brother did. Fred meant something to him. What if he plans on getting his hands dirty?"

Nicholas sighed deeply. "You worry too much, Jess. Is this you telling me I should go check up on him? Trying to get at my emotions with this little speech? Is that what's happening? Because fuck you, it's working." He threw his head back. "God damn it, fine. You and your fucking puppy eyes. You know you do it too, don't you?" He didn't need to see her face to know she took pride in appealing to his more human side. "I can give you the address for his hotel, I got it from him before he left this morning."

Although the coroner had been looking forward to a night to himself at the house, he couldn't say taking Xaliphax for a drive on a cool summer evening was a worse alternative. The pale horse tore across the countryside, taking sharp curves with seemingly wild abandon, but Nicholas trusted his car well enough for them to not go careening off the road into a cornfield. After about a half hour of driving (and missing the turn the first time), Nicholas rolled into the parking lot of a rather dingey-looking motel. He tried his best not to judge locally owned establishments, but sometimes they deserved it.

Nicholas locked his car and patted the roof, straightening his jacket as he started searching for room 23. It was a quick find, and he could only hope he wasn't interrupting anything. With a curt exhale, the coroner knocked on the door.

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

The dish light is dotted black with dead flies. It isn't exactly dimming the room but Reed has to think it would be a hell of a lot brighter without the blanket of tiny corpses.

The motel room makes him itch. They always have. People joke about airports not obeying the laws of time, of how creepy an empty parking lot can be at night.
Reed couldn't care less about inaccurate superstitions. It's a motel with scratchy sheets and the neighbors reminding him how big and empty a queen mattress can feel at night that bother him.

The phone under his arm buzzes, sending vibrations up his shoulder and jerking him away from the intense scrutiny a lamp light doesn't quite deserve.

The group chat is blatantly and unapologetically filled with hunting photos. The explicit kind that would make most people go, what the fuck is that?

It used to be for asking tips and advice to one another but lately Reed's the only one asking. No, instead everyone's showing off their trophies at twice the rate Reed can.
Ecto goo and shapeshifter shed clogging up his inbox.

Well, fuck em. A possible vampire sighting in Pennsylvania is the funniest thing Reed's ever heard, but he's gonna be petty and keep his award winning jokes to himself until after it's dead and he's collected it's blood.

Preferably before it's taken another victim.

Without reason there's a knock at his door. A pavlovian response built into his brain after months of Ubereats tells Reed the rasp of knuckles on wood can only be a good thing and yet a deeper ingrained instinct tells him to stay professional.
The night's just getting started.

Reed wedges a gun down against his back, swipes his shirt over the handle to make it slightly less conspicuous.

He opens the door to the most giant dracula looking man he's ever seen and immediately deduces this can't be his potential vamp because no one would ever dress this edgy while also being a creature of the night.

One thing stands out, on a man where everything stands out and it's his eyes.
Contacts. Must be.

"Hello," he says, voice a little rough as he leans into the door, "can I help you?"

 

[Kveykva]

That was about the greeting Nicholas expected, showing up at a near stranger's motel room late in the evening. Still, he figured he would at least be recognized. "Uh, hey. Hello." At once, his manners seemed to flee him. Fuck. This was probably the biggest reason Nicholas never wandered far from his comfort zone - he couldn't pull off small talk unless he were in a crowd. "I guess you don't remember me from earlier. I'm the coroner keeping your brother's body until the investigation concludes. We met earlier today." Nicholas clarified, attempting to jog the other's memory.

"Sorry if I'm barging in," he apologized, a melodious accent sticking out like a sore thumb compared to the typical Pennsylvanian drawl possessed by others in and around Morgantown. It was tonal in a way reminiscent of birdsong, but it contrasted with his distinctly masculine voice. "I'm just a touch concerned, as you can imagine. It's hard, losing someone you were close to." Nicholas' expression bore genuine concern and sympathy for the other man, but he wouldn't deny he was a little bit curious about how this guy found out about his brother's demise so quickly. It could be a coincidence, but in his experience, things rarely were. "May I come in? I won't take up too much of your time."

Once he was given the go-ahead, Nicholas stepped in from the chilly dusk into a room that was only slightly warmer - and it certainly wasn't due to the decor. Now was not the time to comment on how shitty of a motel this was, but there was a major part of himself that was having to bite his tongue on that front. Even after all these years, he was only slightly better at thinking before he spoke. "Thank you. It looks like it's fixing to rain out there," he observed shortly, failing to mask the distaste creeping into his tone. Nicholas hated the rain - it wasn't even bearable when he was inside. "But I didn't come here to talk about the weather, and I doubt you want to listen to me go on about it anyway. Are you going to be alright?" Once again, his tone returned to one of care. "My assistant is worried you might do something rash, she wanted me to stop by before I turned in for the night."

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

Reed rubs at his forehead, grimacing as he leans into the door.
Right. How he forgot a man like this is beyond him, but it still somehow tracks. He needs more sleep.

Right, he has a dead brother, too.

He lets the man auditioning to play a reaper in a B rated movie inside because Reed's not a dick. Confused, but not a dick.
And then he stands there, being only half as awkward as the coronor, who's coworkers are primarily composed of dead people.

This guy's talking about the weather, but Reed's not saying anything, rubbing at his neck and thinking up all the lies he's gonna have to weave in front of this guy. This guy who's come out in the middle of the night to see if he's doing okay.
Cuz dead brother.

"Uh yeah," he rasps, "I mean- no. That's... Nice of you. Really, I appreciate it."

He gives the stubble on his chin a scratch, clearing his throat with a cough.
The skinny was the vampire didn't stick around long after taking a victim, that just wasn't it's M.O. Reed has tonight to kill it,  maybe tomorrow night if it's still lazing about round bellied.

It wasn't a ghost or ghoul. The heart was still there so it wasn't a werewolf. Wendigoes took the whole shebang. It's a vampire. Had to be.

Of course, there's the chance it's just sleeping off dinner in some decrepit little hole.

"Hey, do you have any slums or something around here? I mean, ya'know seeing the town my brother lived in might made me feel better."

 

[Kveykva]

Nicholas offered the younger man a kind smile, nodding in understanding. "The community here's pretty tight, you know how it is in small towns. Fred's been here for as long as I can really remember, but I wasn't close with him or his family, admittedly." The coroner stuffed his hands into his pockets, mulling over what few memories of Fredrick he had to go off of. It wasn't easy sometimes to separate what belonged to him and what belonged to the spirits, but Nicholas could say what was his own wasn't much. Fredrick was a god-fearing man - a Southern Baptist, specifically. He didn't pay much attention to the different branches of Christianity, so all he knew about the denomination was that they had something against alcohol for whatever reason. As such, Fred wasn't a drinker, and the very rare occasions he'd ever seen the deceased anywhere close to Harper's bar was during football season.

Other than that, he knew Fredrick had been at Ryan's funeral. That didn't say much though; the entire town had shown up for the service. It was a painful memory that struck a twinge of regret in his heart, and it wasn't something he needed to dwell on right now. The silence between the two was deafening, but Nicholas could safely say he would've preferred it a thousand times to what popped out of the young man's mouth to break it. "What kind of stupid fucking question is that? Where the fuck do you think we are? Philly?" A little too late to bite his tongue, but the coroner could still do a bit of damage control. "You're from a big city, aren't you?" Clearly.

"Well, this isn't it. Slums are the kind of shit that crops up with greedy asshats picking the pockets of the middle class, not in small towns like this." Nicholas replied, sounding only a touch kinder than before. "But if you want to stick around and get a feel for the place, nobody's gonna turn you away. They'll just tell you the place's a living graveyard," He offered with a shrug. "Sleepy, boring, bland - that's how Maxine likes to spin it. So if you stop in at Harper's while you're here, just ignore her." He stated, folding his arms. "The quiet is what I like about it. There's not much traffic that passes through, and the town's been here since the colonial era I think. Stick your nose somewhere around the old farmhouses and shit like that, you're bound to find a bit of history under the floorboards. The only part that doesn't have much to call its own is the half-finished neighborhood outside downtown. They stopped working on it something like three years ago, and now everybody thinks the place's cursed. I just wished they'd clean it up some so it wasn't such a fucking eyesore. The edges looks tacky, trust me."

 

[SquigglyWiggly]

Reed made it an occupational hazard to put his foot in his mouth. He knew he fucked this interaction, good and well when the goth man snapped at him.

"Maybe," Reed supplied, rubbing his neck of the embarrassment being chewed out usually causes a person. The hunter's heard of small town loyalty, but this guy has taken it to the extreme.

Just when Reed thought this interaction was going to amount to nothing but some tender feelings and a headache Nicholas gives him some useful information.
An abandoned section of town said to be cursed? If that isn't a breeding ground for monsters, Reed doesn't know what is.

"Tacky, huh?" Reed muttered, half to himself.

The hardest part about tonight was going to be excusing himself from his own motel room.

"Well," Reed began, giving a half hearted stretch. "It's late."

He let a few moments pass before he added, "I appreciate you coming around, but I gotta be up tomorrow to...do things."