Post by Der-Sprecher-des-Wahnsinns on Nov 4, 2012 22:24:57 GMT -6
Name: Daniel Collins
Aliases: Danny Reaper, D. Collins, The Man in Black, The Reaper
Age: 47
Gender: M
Species: Human
Alignment: Nuetral
Canon or Original: Original
Date of Birth: 1965
Place of Birth: Somewhere on the country side
Physical Appearance:
Special Abilities: Plays the guitar like a bawse.
Weapons:
History:
“A long time ago there lived a boy in a countryside shack. He lived with his family: an abusive but hard working father, a whipped loving house wife, an older brother who got treated like gold, and he, the runt of the stock, a boy who could barely hold his own. This boy worked his hind end off, dropping out of school at an early age in order to help provide for his family, eventually drifting between job to job getting paid under the table because he was far too young to work steady,” the man sitting at the bar lit his cigarette and took a drag from it, he tilted his glass of whiskey back into his mouth and continued his story, “Now, this boy wasn't weak or lazy. He was just scared of the world around him. For the longest time he had been told of the dangers of wandering on his own leaving guarded areas and entering the wilds. Hell, his own brother worked as a security agent in order to protect the homestead from the creepers that might attack for the joy and pleasure of it.”
“The boy grew up tough, his fists got hard and his wit got keen. He grew up rough and mean. Now, his daddy would pass away before he turned sixteen, his mother grew real depressed and cut her wrists and drowned in the bathtub. The boys were alone now, granted, the older brother was in his mid-twenties and had a job that paid very well the younger brother couldn't simply rely on just that. He had to make his own living,” there was a brief pause as the man adjusted his sitting position and took another drink and put his cigarette out, “He picked up the guitar for the first time and learned to play. He was a big thing back in the day, a young spry child playing his heart out for the kind folk of the countryside. Made a living and spent it all away on the white death. By the time he was twenty one he could relate to those drug fiends who snorted the white death.”
“That was also around the time when he lost his brother. He was brutally beaten to death and used as a sacrifice. His body was strung up on town hall and left there as a warning by a clan of vampires who were expanding territory. So the boy got his courage up and grabbed his gear. He proceeded to carving a path through the underworld based solely off revenge. The vampires knew his calling, he strummed his guitar a little like this,” the man picked up the guitar leaning on the bar and began to strum it, “he sang a song with it too it went something like this.”
The man stood up and pushed his stool aside with his foot taking to the center of the bar, “I can hear what you’re thinking. All your doubts and fears and if you look in myyyy eyes in time you’ll find the reason I’m here. And in time all things shall pass away, in time you may come back some day…… To live once more… Or die once more… You know your days are numbered. Count em one by one. Like notches in the handle of an outlaws gun. You can out run the devil, if you trrrrryyyy, but you will never out run the haaands of time. In time there’ll surely come a day, in all things shall pass away. In tiiime you may come back, some say…… To live once more, or die once more. But in time your time will be no more……”
The man began strumming the guitar furiously in tune staring at the people he was telling the story to; he finally came to a stop and said softly, “I can hear what you’re thinking,” and strummed one last time. As he did this the first vampire in the room which was seated directly next to him during the story jumped straight forward and met the broad side of the guitar in the old man’s hands. He hit the floor and the old man drove the guitar through the side of his head splattering his skull across the floor leaving brain matter and blood to spread across the ground. He smirked, “The story aint over. This young man grew bitter and old, spent time in prison. Still, he paved his way through the underworld making a bad name for the Giovanni clan as this simple human cut his way through them. Eventually, he became me. You know what they call me!?”
Another set of vampires jumped from their stools and the old man drew his colt .45 Single Action Revolver from his side and plugged two shots into each of them, “The Reaper.” The following two shots were fired and from outside the bar one could hear as a guitar slammed into several targets. You couldn't see within the saloon anymore as the windows were covered in blood, but eventually the front door opened and the old man, Danny Reaper, stepped out into the night with his guitar cased and on his back, a cigarette in his mouth and hands in his pockets. He looked around at the vampires looking back at him from the darkness and alleyways and a grin crossed his face, “You can run on for a long time… But sooner or later, I’ll cut you down.”
Aliases: Danny Reaper, D. Collins, The Man in Black, The Reaper
Age: 47
Gender: M
Species: Human
Alignment: Nuetral
Canon or Original: Original
Date of Birth: 1965
Place of Birth: Somewhere on the country side
Physical Appearance:
Special Abilities: Plays the guitar like a bawse.
Weapons:
- Colt .45 Single Action Revolver
- Double Barrel 12 gauge shotgun
- Pack of Menthols
- Bottle of Jack Daniels
- Guitar with an industrial steel frame
History:
“A long time ago there lived a boy in a countryside shack. He lived with his family: an abusive but hard working father, a whipped loving house wife, an older brother who got treated like gold, and he, the runt of the stock, a boy who could barely hold his own. This boy worked his hind end off, dropping out of school at an early age in order to help provide for his family, eventually drifting between job to job getting paid under the table because he was far too young to work steady,” the man sitting at the bar lit his cigarette and took a drag from it, he tilted his glass of whiskey back into his mouth and continued his story, “Now, this boy wasn't weak or lazy. He was just scared of the world around him. For the longest time he had been told of the dangers of wandering on his own leaving guarded areas and entering the wilds. Hell, his own brother worked as a security agent in order to protect the homestead from the creepers that might attack for the joy and pleasure of it.”
“The boy grew up tough, his fists got hard and his wit got keen. He grew up rough and mean. Now, his daddy would pass away before he turned sixteen, his mother grew real depressed and cut her wrists and drowned in the bathtub. The boys were alone now, granted, the older brother was in his mid-twenties and had a job that paid very well the younger brother couldn't simply rely on just that. He had to make his own living,” there was a brief pause as the man adjusted his sitting position and took another drink and put his cigarette out, “He picked up the guitar for the first time and learned to play. He was a big thing back in the day, a young spry child playing his heart out for the kind folk of the countryside. Made a living and spent it all away on the white death. By the time he was twenty one he could relate to those drug fiends who snorted the white death.”
“That was also around the time when he lost his brother. He was brutally beaten to death and used as a sacrifice. His body was strung up on town hall and left there as a warning by a clan of vampires who were expanding territory. So the boy got his courage up and grabbed his gear. He proceeded to carving a path through the underworld based solely off revenge. The vampires knew his calling, he strummed his guitar a little like this,” the man picked up the guitar leaning on the bar and began to strum it, “he sang a song with it too it went something like this.”
The man stood up and pushed his stool aside with his foot taking to the center of the bar, “I can hear what you’re thinking. All your doubts and fears and if you look in myyyy eyes in time you’ll find the reason I’m here. And in time all things shall pass away, in time you may come back some day…… To live once more… Or die once more… You know your days are numbered. Count em one by one. Like notches in the handle of an outlaws gun. You can out run the devil, if you trrrrryyyy, but you will never out run the haaands of time. In time there’ll surely come a day, in all things shall pass away. In tiiime you may come back, some say…… To live once more, or die once more. But in time your time will be no more……”
The man began strumming the guitar furiously in tune staring at the people he was telling the story to; he finally came to a stop and said softly, “I can hear what you’re thinking,” and strummed one last time. As he did this the first vampire in the room which was seated directly next to him during the story jumped straight forward and met the broad side of the guitar in the old man’s hands. He hit the floor and the old man drove the guitar through the side of his head splattering his skull across the floor leaving brain matter and blood to spread across the ground. He smirked, “The story aint over. This young man grew bitter and old, spent time in prison. Still, he paved his way through the underworld making a bad name for the Giovanni clan as this simple human cut his way through them. Eventually, he became me. You know what they call me!?”
Another set of vampires jumped from their stools and the old man drew his colt .45 Single Action Revolver from his side and plugged two shots into each of them, “The Reaper.” The following two shots were fired and from outside the bar one could hear as a guitar slammed into several targets. You couldn't see within the saloon anymore as the windows were covered in blood, but eventually the front door opened and the old man, Danny Reaper, stepped out into the night with his guitar cased and on his back, a cigarette in his mouth and hands in his pockets. He looked around at the vampires looking back at him from the darkness and alleyways and a grin crossed his face, “You can run on for a long time… But sooner or later, I’ll cut you down.”
