The Hunter
Name: Horace Nokoni
Nicknames: lots of unpleasant things he'd rather not hear again, most notably "whore a**" so original
Gender: male
Age: 17
Category: Death
Horace likes being prepared, and so should you.
The Weapon
Name: Dr. Jannisari
Nicknames: Doctor, Dr. J
Type of Weapon: Spiked Tekko probably less shiny new than those haha, but I dunno - just have fun
Former species of weapon: plague doctor - undead
Gender: female
-Personalities:
Horace:
Not surprisingly, Horace sees Deus as a way to reinvent himself. This time he won't take s**t from anyone, right? He'll stand up for himself and when someone picks a fight he'll finish it. Or, he hopes so. In reality, he's still highly susceptible to flattery and praise. He's gotten so little that even when it's false, Horace delights in it. He's just a boy who wants to be useful and appreciated, after all. And Horace is capable of unswerving loyalty to those he considers friends. Conversely, anyone who's immediately antagonistic causes his guard to raise and Horace to lash out in return. He's had more than enough of bullies in his life.
He's determined not to fail this time. Because he does view his life in Oklahoma as a failure - he's always thought of himself as the kid with no real ambitions, the kind who would end up working at the gas station for the rest of his life. The kind of aimless kid he was before, the Horace content with merely existing, won't cut it in Deus and he knows that.
(he's going to shift and change as he reinvents himself through Deus of course yay!)
Likes: tv shows, wifi, coconut, rainy days, puzzles, video games, romance novels >_>
Dislikes: bullies, black coffee, swimming, FPS
Jannisari:
As a Halloweener, she was ambitious in her pursuit of knowledge, often adopting an 'anything goes' approach to the acquisition of it. A self-styled doctor, everything in her focused on the next experiment, the next sample, the next try at greatness. As a result, Jannisari honed her manipulative abilities carefully, in order to easily rope in new subjects for her not-always-pleasant tests. Largely, this has not changed even after weaponization. Dr. Jannisari was promised a different kind of greatness in this new form, a chance to study Fear in a new light. Perhaps if she truly remembered these promises, she would be disappointed. But for now, she enjoys twisting her eloquent words around Horace, berating him, bolstering him, recording his various reactions to her, to creatures from Halloween, to life. Horace is her new subject, and, for now, she will try to push them to greatness. Her words are an insidious insecurity in his mind that rise to a giddy fever-pitch in battle. This is the only time the stern doctor delights: when these tekkos pound into another's flesh. For scientific purposes, of course.
-Why did your human character choose to become a Hunter?
Rural Oklahoma is, for all intents and purposes, a s**t hole. Who wouldn't want to get out?
Horace had always seen weird shadows out in the woods behind his house, things moving that shouldn't, trees twisting. After confused stares and admonishments to stop telling stories, he simply learned to ignore them. It came as quite a shock when Deus came by and told him he wasn't just 'seeing things' after all.
Between school and home, honestly, Horace didn't see a reason to stick around. And Deus promised him a way to get stronger, better, greater than the wimp he was.
-Weapon Ability
T2: The Chill
A Hearty Diagnosis
Horace touches his tekkos together and a spark rises from them to land on either himself or the target. A sense of grudging disappointment washes over them: Jannisari's rare (and immensely begrudging) push of support. As a result, the target feels renewed, re-energized.
-Physical Description:
Eye Colour: pale blue, wears red glasses (square plastic frames)
Hair Colour/Style: long black hair, one side shaved wears it down a lot - hella shiny, straight as a stick so long so luscious you know you wanna touch it
Skin Colour: Native American (specifically part of the Oklahoma Comanche Nation) skintone ref 1 or you can use skintone ref 2
Clothing Style/Colours: wears a few jelly wristbands on each arm, whatever colors. He wears an argyle sweater over a collared shirt (both sleeveless)- colors are CC (idk maybe purple - whatever). Pants are ripped pants or shorts of some sort & he wears burnt orange sneakers. Has some silver earrings & snakebites & stuff, idk go wild (dude likes accessories, just not rings)
[note: it doesn't show, but he's got his tongue pierced too)
-Coat: no sleeves, can have a fun collar or epaulets as you wish, normal length DUDE IDK GIVE IT FRINGEEEEE
-Scarf: idk brown or grey or some color it doesn't really matter
Extra: 6'. bara in training. just cuz he's trying to be muscly doesn't mean he knows how to defend himself for s**t. basically, Horace is weak although he's got the capability for beefcake-iness. (and ya'll know Deus cranks out beefcakes like it's my birthday) generally has a tense smile on his face or just looks vaguely worried. He has a couple of tattoos - bands around his upper arms. These tattoos have no real meaning, so they are CC
References:
lalalalallala extra bitsssssssssss
History:
Horace couldn't remember a time when he hadn't lived with his grandmother. A no-nonsense woman, his grandmother worked full time to support him and their little house in rural Oklahoma. His mother, she told him, was deceased, and his father (a no-good runaround cheater she said) also deceased. And that was, unfortunately, the only information he ever got about them. It seemed to pain his grandma to talk about them, so Horace stopped asking. Grandma Dora was everything he needed in a parent anyway.
At night, Horace would stare out his window, into the thick trees where he thought he could see strange shadows. Dark things moved where there shouldn't be movement, trees twisted into odd shapes. Time and again, Grandma Dora told him there was nothing there and to stop asking so many goddamn questions. So, he did what most boys did: he shrugged it off, got on with his life, went to school. And at night, he tried to ignore the shadows in the woods.
School for Horace was a normal affair; he was smart, probably a little too nerdy, but not too smart, and he didn't pick fights. He kept his head down, had a few friends. It was a normal enough school life. Until his junior year, when a rumor blazed through the school that he and three other boys were gay. It wasn't true for some of them, but that didn't matter. In this rural, god-fearing town, the boys were mocked mercilessly by their peers. Teachers tried to intervene and the students took their bullying to after school, to subtle insults, to 'oops it was an accident that I ruined your textbook' while in school. Out of school, it was worse and Horace has a couple of cigarette burns on his collarbone to show for it. Horace learned the quick way home, cutting through the woods, but the escalating verbal and emotional abuse caused the boy to shrink further into himself.
And then, Grandma Dora found out. The disappointment creasing her face was almost worse than the bullying. While she disapproved, she wasn't the sort to abandon her own flesh and blood. Instead, Horace got subjected to a sort of guerrilla religious warfare. Laptop homepage changed to a website about how being gay was evil? Check. Small pamphlets about avoiding sin appearing in the bathroom? Check. Horace wondered how much worse she'd get if she had realized all those visits to friends' houses over the summer were spent making out in the field with Darren. On Saturdays, he would think about yelling out that he liked girls too, just to see the shock that would twist her old, wrinkled face. On Sundays, when she went to church alone, he would watch the forest and think about running away.
So, when Deus came, he left. Horace thought briefly of his grandmother's thin fingers, of the way she might cry, and then, he left. Skedaddled himself right out of Oklahoma and hopefully somewhere where he could have a new start. What did he have left to stay for, anyway?
