- username: Necrozma
kalon name: Warrick Andrew Holloway
voice: [wc 72/100]
Father Warrick's voice is deep, smooth and melodic. He often puts many a child to sleep during mass as he speaks his sermon in a monotone. If he becomes angered, he rarely ever raises his voice. Instead he becomes very quiet, just above a whisper with a deep growl trapped in his throat. If he must raise his voice it is a commanding, clear tone so that no one may question him.
stature: [wc 73/100]
Warrick is of average height with a lean but strong build. He does not draw attention to himself as he moves; his steps are quiet and well placed. He often moves with his arms folded in front of him, right hand gripping his left wrist. He is not imposing and does not appear threatening at all. All his movements are well calculated and he tends to limit himself to what is absolutely necessary.
personality: [wc 95/100]
If you asked anyone what they thought of Father Warrick they would say he is a kind, measured and wise man. He devotes his life to charity and helps all in his flock. The only thing that might unsettle people is how stoic and expressionless he is. He has two sides, like most people, however. This other side is darker as he suffers from delusions of grandeur, believing he alone is saving the world from evil. He also hears voices and can be heard whispering replies to them but most people just assume he's praying.
warrick's 'escape': [wc 619/700]
Warrick woke up again, feeling wide awake this time. He immediately heaved himself into an upright position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He turned on his bedside lamp, yellow light cut through the darkness of the tiny windowless room. The room had a bed, a nightstand and a closet all encased in black. It had no clutter and would likely be too small to be comfortable for a normal person. However, for Warrick, this was as comfortable as he would ever want. He stood up and walked to the closet, opening the sliding door. Dressing quickly, methodically and was ready in minutes. He pushed his hair back, tying it back into a ponytail before striding toward the door.
Warrick stepped into a main hall and shut his door behind him. He was dressed in form fitting but stretchy black clothing with a pair of fingerless gloves and shining black boots. He was also covered in belts and weapons. A pair of pistols in a shoulder holster beneath a black leather jacket lined with silver tipped wooden stakes and a vial of holy water. Clipped onto one of his belts was a solid silver, spiked set of brass knuckles. As he passed flocks of people dressed in similar fashion, he was focused only on business.
It didn't take long for Warrick to get a job, he had been briefed very quickly. There was a local outpouring of demons from a portal that just won't close. There were already two hunters at the site, they sent for Warrick as back up. Upon arrival he immediately notices a fallen comrade. Not knowing if he was dead or alive, he felt nothing as he focused on the shining portal in front of him. The other was speaking a closing spell and laying runes. It was working, the portal was shrinking because of his efforts. But there was a problem as demons began to draw nearer trying to stop him from closing the portal. Warrick grit his teeth and charged in. This is what he's trained for. This is how he keeps the world safe.
"Will he ever figure this out?"
"No, if we've done our job, he'll believe he's just a regular priest."
He's awake again, feeling sore and exhausted. Warrick pulled his body into a sitting position, groaning in the process. He winced as he ordered his muscles into a standing position, his very bones seemed to whine at him. He didn't understand why he was so sore. Had he slept wrong? Perhaps, the bed he slept on was old and worn with few comforts. Father Warrick went through his usual morning routine: shower, brushing his teeth, brushing his unruly hair and getting dressed. His clergy uniform was a simple black and gold arrangement that he pulled off well. He wrapped his hand rosary around his wrist and began whispering a prayer as he moved toward the main part of the church.
A flash of a fanged creature with leathery skin leaping at him caught him off guard on the staircase, causing him to reel back and slam his back hard into the stone wall. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes tight, praying a bit more fervently for the delusions to pass. After a moment, he continued up the stairs. He never understood the voices or flashes that plagued him so, but he felt they were important. He feels it is a burden he must shoulder and that he, himself is protecting the world from evil. He has felt this way for many years. If ever the delusions threaten to overcome him, he escapes from them by cleaning, praying, allowing for confession and other duties a man of the cloth performs. He is dutiful and resolute. This is how he keeps the world safe.
