Stands at 6'1" he looks rather plain, with fair skin, green eyes and brown hair. His hair is messy, medium length and unstyled, his only facial hair is a simple goatee. Over his eyes he wears a basic pair of wire rimmed glasses. On his ear he wears a (totally not stolen) Orochi tactical ear-piece. Around his neck he has a silver hatchet necklace. He wears a red open zip up hoodie over a black t-shirt, black jeans and brown hiking boots. His forearms, if exposed, are often covered in bandages, hiding the burns and runic scars. Finally he has a leather belt with an iron cross belt buckle over his right shoulder, holding the sheathe for his claymore sword.
It all started when I swallowed a bee. Okay, it was more of a bee shaped bio-mechanical symbiote created by a techno-organic tree computer in the center of the earth, but still a bee. As it turns out symbiote bees can do some mighty interesting things. Eye beams into the ceiling, general destruction of an apartment, phenomenal cosmic power... The kind of things that attract a lot of attention if you don't know what your doing. Which is what it did, I had no idea what happened, just woke up one morning, tried to make breakfast and blew up half my apartment. The other half was systematically blown up over the next 3 days.
What a beautiful cacophony we hear. Times - places - things that did not happen - will not happen. Mere fancies put to pen - paper - screen. They all flow through the well. The etchings of madmen and visionaries put on equal footing in a display of life. All of them singing such different tunes - all coming together into the liveliest of noise - but what brought them here? For what purpose?
On the third day is when I found out I'd been less discreet than I thought, and yes, you can 'discreetly' blow things up with magic. A 'representative' appeared at my door, claiming to be of the Templars, said they could train me and my new powers and that I didn't want to stick around. Well they were right on not sticking around. As I found out later, one of the Illuminati were prowling around and one of the Dragon's silent monks was in the city. Well, I had an appointment in a few days in London England, might as well get going...
WITNESS - our sweetling. One of many in these dark days - he heard the enochian - responded - tasted the sweetness of our wisdom. We gave him a gift - he took it - used it as a shield against the dark days coming - only for it to become his sword when the dark days arrived.
Initiate the grail keeper protocol - to kill a demon one must sometimes burn down a village. The crossed ones believed this - but is it still true? Must those who seek monsters become them?
They weren't lying, once I'd become less of a threat to property values I started to take to the magical arts like a fish to water. It helped that I was something of a massive nerd at the time, still am, but now all the pouring over tiny details has a purpose. They had the facilities and know-how to turn me from walking explosion to full on battlemage, or close enough. Then after training it was field duty, going around, assisting people in the middle of supernatural crisis all across the globe. The bees seem less willing to let me die than than the things trying to kill me, but if there's one thing you can say about dark horrors hidden from public eye, it's that they are stupid persistent. Doesn't matter where they come from either, New England coast, Egypt, Transylvania... They will rip you to pieces as many times as it takes. None of it stuck, thankfully, no matter how many times I got torn apart messily, it was just a simple trip back to the nearest Anima well and I was back among the living. Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like hell still. Apparently it's impossible to catch a break in the secret world.
In the grim blackness our sweetlings buzz - running mazes of cement and glass - stone and wood - mind and thought. Working to brighten an ever darkening world - for those that take them in - for themselves - as they slowly plumb deeper into the secrets and hidden places.
Time moves not in lines, but circles.
Initiate the secret histories.
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