NAME: Faustus Black
RANK: Apprentice
RACE: Human, 21
SCHOOL OF MAGIC: Phasmamancy
SIGNATURE WEAPON: Scythe, The blade of the scythe is made of repeatedly folded steal with a silvered edge. The shaft of the weapon is steel, wrapped in grey bandages and has a hollow tube filled with Ectoplasm through the centre of it. At the opposite end to the reaping blade is a reinforced spear point made of silver that is designed to puncture and withdraw swiftly.
SECONDARY WEAPON: Mauser C96, Mercury tipped, Silver, 9mm rounds.
ADDITIONAL WEAPONS: Various glass vials filled with ectoplasm.
Faustus Black was the unwanted burden born in the slums of war torn London. The woman that was his mother was a downtrodden street whore with a forced addiction that kept her in the sorrow and shadows of her line of work. His father was in the simplest turns, a mystery not worth the time being solved.
When Faustus was born there were serious complications surrounding his birth. Faustus' mother throughout her pregnancy was under the influence of various prohibited chemicals and finally at the time of birth her body was ravaged, numb and dying, the chorus of a babies cry echoed through the night as she departed from this world in a pool of crimson. Her only legacy, a malnourished child screaming into the black that would have joined her were it not for the kindness of the damned denizens of the back alleys. Faustus was saved, named and raised in the refuge of the exiled monsters of England.
Faustus? growth was guided by the mixed culture of the forsaken creatures of fairy tales. The Legacies of ancient vampire families were his beside stories, the great Werebeasts of the past were his idols and his education, the lore of Fey druids. His pseudo parents, a Crellyx Vampire by the name of ?Elizabeth? and a wolf-like Lycan by the name of ?Samuel? governed his childhood each taking the role of mother and father as their own.
When Faustus was eight his ?mother? decided he was old enough to learn the skills of the slums and to start making himself a living. Elizabeth was well known in the circles of thieves as being the most skilled lock pick in the back alleys of London. But Faustus had always hoped to follow in his ?fathers? footsteps, a Veteran of the great war who had used his strength and power to rush into battle and slaughter his enemies. However, because of his biological mothers drug use it had left his body far too frail and emaciated to walk that path.
By the age of twelve Faustus had already picked up his mother's knack for picking locks, it was obviously nowhere near the same degree as Elizabeth but he had managed to develop his own form and technique that functioned for him. It was however, the proficiency with sleight of hand that had made Faustus Black infamous, quick fingers and swift movements were his expertise. By sixteen Faustus had mastered the art of pocket picking and his skill with locks was on par with some of the more experience thieves in London but despite all this he still held onto the fantasy of joining his father in battle with a great Lycan war glaive in hand.
It was common knowledge that the hatred for the inhuman citizens of London had been on the rise since their revelation to the public of man, even escalating to unofficial reinstatement of such barbaric practices as ?witch burnings? and ?crucifixion?, but the sanctuary from which Faustus was raised was relatively untouched by such atrocities. The survivors that resided in Faustus? home were, like him, left to die on the streets. If an exiled Vampire or Lycanthrope went missing in London?s slums it hardly warranted an eye?s glance. Ironically enough, all it usually required WAS a glance to start the gathering of a large and often bloodthirsty mob. Samuel, Faust's adoptive father had always made sure to keep the people of his community hidden from the spotlights of human xenophobia, but his efforts could only last so long.
When Faustus was seventeen he experienced first hand the terror of the German aerial bombardment and his true loss. The attacks across London were frequent but few ever landed near the slums, however, tonight broke the mould. The explosives that the German dropped were unlike any others, an experimental adhesive material that burnt slowly but at an extremely high temperature. Elizabeth was one of the many casualties caught in the attack and died before Faustus could reach her, her body was charred to the bone and torn to pieces by shrapnel. This horrifying attack brought with it more issues than the face value destruction of homes and thievery of lives. When the British defence forces came to investigate the area, their small solace from the outside world was stumbled upon and for the next year tension built between the citizens of the district and the creatures.
Eighteen years had passed since Faust was brought into this world and a year since his true mother had left it. Faustus had carefully noted the hatred building between the humans and humanoids. His father had always preached that it was in man's nature to hate the foreign and strange, that it came as naturally to them as a vampires thirst for blood or a Lycanthropes calls to the moon, that we should show by example that "We are not the monsters of horror film's we are sentient and reasonable PEOPLE!" As much as Faustus loved his father, he never agreed with his sentiments. If all humans feared the different why was he excused? This very question had sparked various arguments between the father and son over the course of the year and represented the two factions that the place they had both called home had split into. One stance in the slums was that the creatures should stand against the humans; the other was to try and reach diplomacy. But when Faustus reflected back on this, none of it mattered, they were all doomed anyway.
One night, Faustus was thrust awake but the unwelcome noise of explosives, at first he had assumed another air raid were taking place and the memories of his mothers corpse shot through his mind. This thought was quickly suppressed by the realisation that chorus of gunfire could be made out amongst the chaotic sounds outside his grove of sheet metal and trash cans. Faustus sprinted into the night to find fires and shells littering his haunting grounds, he was greeted by a mob of humans armed with rifles and silver rounds with Molotov cocktails flinging through the midnight winds. Faustus raced through the alleyways screaming alarms of a coup and called his kin to arms but it was no use half had already been killed and the flurry of bullets simply proceeded to shred those left over to pieces. As Faustus darted around a corner he was suddenly and firmly embraced by a frightening yet familiar silhouette. He lifted his head through the soft grey fur to catch sight of the transformed profile of his father, Samuel?s face was contorted in pain and trickling with tears down his wolf-like features, The sickening jolts of bullet fire reverberated harmlessly through Faustus' body as Samuel shielded him from the hail of gunfire. When the barrage of ballistics had halted Faust stood motionless in both awe and sorrow. He stared into his father eyes, as old and wise as they were kind. The great lycanthropes body collapsed to the hard brick ground revealing to Faust the sacrifice he had made; his back was in ribbons and dyed in a rich flowing red. Times for Faustus, felt as if it had run dry, littered around him and before his feet were the mangled bodies of the men and woman he had, since childhood, called his family.
He would have surely remained in this comatose state were it not for the rude awakening of a human male, large and oafish looking shaking his shoulder, The man?s words were nothing but an empty ringing in his ears, laughter and shouts of joy echoed around him as the men bragged about how many 'Monsters' they had slain. When the oafish man tried to take him from the body of his father he resisted but the man was too strong, Faustus found himself being dragged further and further from the ones he loved into the crowd of sadist murderers. Until finally, It snapped, a power that had been dwelling deep inside the crippled shell of a body that Faustus called his own broke free. As the man was mere moments away from encompassing Faust in the bloodlust driven crowd, a new found strength rippled through his body. The oaf was cast aback with such a great force that the snapping of bones could be heard as he collided and rolled along the brick floors. A silence wafted through the crowd as the malnourished boy rose to his feet; violently flowing around him was a maelstrom of some ghostly, formless visage. In moments his spectral aura that garbed him shifted and started to take form, eventually it took the shape of a great lupine beast, it stood upright like a man and was rippled in muscles and flowing furs. The boy took great confident strides to the beast that was just slain and reached down gripping the Lycan's Glaive tight in his grasp, as he did the great ethereal beast mimicked his every movement.
Faustus looked upon the fallen body of his father, eye's transfixed on the tranquillity of the old wolves face. His daze was interrupted once more, however this time the words rang clear in his ears. "You always wanted to fight alongside me didn't you?? The great Lycan spectre's grasp tightened around the pole arm in unison with Faustus, as it did a small platoon of shapeless phasma's began rising from the corpses of the murdered beasts and, like the great lupine, they to began to take form. Those who Faustus had considered family and kin stood beside him. The Humans who had staged this vile attack were frozen in horror and fear as the ghostly rebellion advanced. A few had tried to flee but were met with dead ends and high fence gratings the humans were surrounded. Faustus lead the slow advancement wielding his father?s weapon like it were lighter than a feather and guided it as if years of familiarity were in each flourish and practice swing. He came face to face with a man who had just moments beforehand boasted his marksmanship and announced a few creative terms for Faustus' fallen father. Faustus raised the glaive to the throat of the man and let it's metal blade hover just atop the skin. In his mind a the desire to simply flick his wrist and behead the man burned brightly, and he surely would have were it not for the familiar, firm grasp the great Lycan placed on his shoulder. Faustus begrudgingly lowered the blade from the man?s throat but kept it positioned to parry, in case the man would try anything idiotic.
"Leave" Faustus motioned to the group of murderers. His voice was monotone and devoid of emotion a mask for the hatred and frustration that ran through his thoughts. Whispers among the living resonated and when the mob completed its exchange of horrified and bewildered glances the spectral figures parted allowing a path for the humans to walk through. As the last human made it's way out of the slums the figures began to fade, it was as if watching a flame extinguish in an instant. Little by little Faustus' family passed on into the afterlife, and after what seemed like an eternity only Faustus and the mighty Lycanthrope remained. Eventually the great beast began to disappear, however, unlike the other spectres a sense of presence still remained.
The following weeks were spent in solitude as Faustus tried to decipher and analyse the series of events that had unfolded on that night of pure anarchy. Months of this tedious mental dissection passed and would surely have continued had Faustus not found himself approached by a mysterious individual who showed a great deal of interest in his newly awakened powers. Faustus at first was reclusive to this man and would constantly refuse to speak of the dark memories of the attack. But when he did speak the man listened, In many way he reminded him of his own father, Samuel. The man informed Faustus of his powers and how he was a rather special case. He explained how there was an order that would provide him with a home. After weeks of conversation between the two parties, Faustus finally agreed to learn more of his power of 'Phasmamacy' and joined the 'Guardians of Light'.
