[James London]

JAMES CONSTANTINE LONDON
i'm sure of your ability to become my perfect enemy



H U M A N . HUNTER

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My name is James but you can call me London if that's got too many syllables for you to handle.
Originally I was born in Bournemouth, England and these days I live in Holdenhurst in the family homestead Usually, if you're looking for me, you might find me at my home office or school where I'm a university student and hunter.

I might look like I'm late twenties but I'm actually pushing thirty ; hard to believe, right? Roughly, I'm 6' 1¼" tall, last I checked, and I'd be the first to admit I'm a little on the pale and lanky side, but don't hold that against me. Loads of people have told me how much I resemble Keanu Reeves but personally, I don't see it.

F I R S T . I M P R E S S I O N S

You know that strange guy in your Uni class, which looks way older than he should be. Well that’s London. He sits in the back and takes notes like a mad man, and has a beard that could make your father look clean shaven. He dresses a bit too much like the professor, and seems at times to know a bit more than him too. He never raises his hand, but always knows the answer to anything. He always looks like he would ignore you if you tried to talk to him, but just sometimes he can let that off kilter humor out to play, too bad it’s a bit dry. What can you do, he’s English, and from money. As a younger man he might have been more hip, but now he seems like he has aged, matured beyond his years. That isn’t always a good thing you know.

When you get to know him there’s not much change, he can still be a bit of a bumbling guy who just has a strange view of the world, but you can’t blame him. If you could feel what it is like to be him on a daily basis, you would be a bit off kilter yourself. Trust me. He has a strange oblong face, thick yet patchy beard, and dark eyes to go with the pitch black hair. He might be attractive if he shaved, and maybe smiled a bit more. He holds his tall body with a bit of tension in it, like he’s always waiting for something to jump out of the woodwork, if you only knew people. If you only knew. He has a personal bubble, one that is too often invaded upon, so he tends to try and keep his distance when he can help it. He deals with it, but man if it doesn’t fucking suck.

He is outgoing in his own way, and when he does engage someone in conversation he holds his end rather well. London could be a charming bastard if he wanted too, but most days he is just that creeper in the back of the room you don’t notice. Forget flirting girls and boys, he really isn’t that great at it. It goes over as well as his sense of humor does, which is not that well.

F A S H I O N . P A S S I O NF A S H I O N . P A S S I O N

As stated before this bastard needs to shave. His patchy beard is a bit irritating, even to him. It’s just not as thick as it could be, since it seems that some parts of his face are not capable of filling in with facial hair. Although there is no question he has a good head of hair, the mess of ebon locks is always in disarray most days. When occasion calls for it though he will run a comb through it, and has even been known to shave that bush on his face, or at least trim it. Maybe it is a hint to the rebellious side of him that has not left since childhood, but whatever reason, London likes not having to do a lot to keep up his looks. That’s not to say he is a dirty bugger, because he’s not. It’s more like he forgets about the little details. At least he remembers to put on matching socks.

Now he does come from money, and money doesn’t make itself without dressing up. In the past he was a rather dashing young man, even if on the crazy side. He had great taste in clothes, and to this day they are still quality. When his mother was still alive he would attend parties in all the trappings expected of him. Tux and tie, decked to the nines. Nowadays there isn’t any balls held at the homestead, and though James needs a break from his own personal obsessions, he doesn’t get out much. So a simple pair of slacks, tee-shirt or button up. Add a coat if it’s cold, maybe a jacket. Now that old leather jacket he has had since he was younger is a staple in his wardrobe, since he often rides his vintage motorcycles. In fact if he isn’t able to ride one of his two wheeled works of art, then he is rambling about in one of the automobiles his grandfather has in the garage. Let’s put it this way, Bruce Wayne would be jealous.

D I M P L E S . A N D . T H I N G S

Like all boys James has had his share of scrape ups and the like, even a few broken bones. He’s had his left middle finger broken in a fight, which makes it not like to bend properly. Also he had his right collarbone broken after falling from a tree. This likes to ache and complain when humidity starts to get heavy, so he pretty much knows when it will rain. His worst scar comes from when he was a just out of his teens. James had been riding one of his old motorcycles on a demon ride, and didn’t manage a curve properly when he almost sideswiped a car. He and his bike took a tumble down the side of the road, and he landed in the ditch with the pile of wreaked motorcycle on top of him. When he came to, London found himself suffering a few broken ribs with one of the bikes handle bars lodged into his abdomen. After a fair amount of surgeries, James healed up well enough, but he has a jagged scar left as a reminder. That still doesn’t stop him from going night riding.

W H Y . D I D . Y O U . D O . I T

Now when looking at London you wouldn’t peg him for one of those men that get tattoos, but in fact he does have quite a few. His ink might be his best kept secret next to his abilities, and it is meant to be kept that way. Over the years James has been researching all things occult and religious, and as his knowledge expands so does the intricate tattoos that cover his skin. Mostly these are contained in an ever growing half body suit, but as stated it is constantly changing. The main body of the tattoo is made up of various spells and incantations written in mostly Latin. There are other languages scattered throughout, along with symbols of protection and power. All these are done in a bold red blacklight sensitive ink. So that if someone were to remove his clothing, they would see no hint of the secret his skin holds. As the years pass he is in constant need to get the ink touched up, which is a pain, but in his mind is worth it.

M A N . W I T H O U T . S K I N

I N T E L L E C T U A L
London has one hell of a brain, and it is filled to the brim with information. I mean of course it is, this guy has been studying his ass off for years. Chalk it up to obsession with the past and those that came before him, or maybe that he desperately wants to understand these powers that his mother’s bloodline has passed down to him. Either way London has been hitting the books, searching high and low for clues as to why he has these powers, and what in the fuck he is supposed to use them for. Even outside of that fact, James has always been a free thinker, good at thinking outside the box, and solving those problems that some people can’t even wrap their heads around. This man is damn near a walking computer, a really fucked up and twisted computer.

R E B E L L I O U S
Now London has never been one to accept his place in life, he acted out like any other boy, but unlike your typical street hooligan he came from money. It was forced on him at a youthful age that he had to live up to the family reputation, whether he liked it or not. Until he reached a more mature age, he pushed his limits as best he could. He acted out in school, road motorcycles, did drugs ( nothing too heavy ), and refused to play the good little boy for mummy and daddy. All that seemed to change as he grew into adulthood, though a streak of that wildness is still alive in those dark chestnut eyes. He still takes risks, though now it’s mostly in regards to dealing with sentinels. London also doesn’t tend to follow proper laws. He is known for breaking and entering, forgery, petty theft, and numerous other things. James works above the law, or below it, since most the time he does the shit even the most determined detective would turn his nose up at. London might not like some of the things he does, but he sees it as the lesser of the two evils. Guess you could call him a vigilante or something like that, but I know this, he is definitely an anti-hero.

S U P E R S T I T I O U S
After living the kind of life he has, you can bet London is a superstitious as you can get. And so far it has kept him alive and relatively in one piece. This trait is what has fed into the tattoos on his body, and he takes it all pretty serious. Most people brush off the supernatural as ghost stories, or deny that things really do go bump in the night. James is so not one of those people. When you deal with things that most people only read about in books or watch in movies, you can’t help but believe. His belief is more out of the proof of the supernatural’s existence rather than any kind of faith on his part. Trust me he isn’t a religious man by any means.

D E T E R M I N E D
Or obsessed maybe? Yeah there is something that drives London to do what he does. Whether it is studying the occult, or on some crazy stakeout to find a suspected sentinel. Nobody can deny that James has balls. You won’t find many other humans like him, with not only his skill set and abilities, but the gumption to take his skinny arse into dark dangerous situations, with little more than the clothes on his back and the wit on the tip of his tongue. The fact that he has been one lucky bugger so far only helps fuel the fire in him, and push the limits of his sanity at times.

E N I G M A T I C
Don’t let that scruffy face fool you, at times London can be quite the charming bastard when he needs a favor or information. There is something about him though, not quite the tall dark and handsome bit, but there is an air about him. It could be related to that innate power that lies just under his unkempt surface, but something draws you in to try and figure out the mystery that is James Constantine London. You know you have questioned yourself about who that person is sitting so quiet in the corner, with eyes that seem to be searching the depths and inner workings of a book or object for answers that he might never find. It could be that he isn’t an open book to be read that makes you want to crack his cover and take a peek, because you know that something a bit dark and a good deal dangerous just might be waiting for you. Either that or you just want to cuddle the poor bastard because he looks like he needs a hug. Whatever “it” is, London has it, regardless of if he wants it or not.

F A V O U R I T E

” I like riding at night. Demon riding, where you shut off your lights and go. It’s quiet and you’re guided by the moonlight. You’re getting away from it all. It’s about getting out and feeling the wind in your hair, just having two wheels to ride. You have to be in the present, here and now, there’s nothing like it.

D E S P I S E

” Despise is a heavy word, much like hate, but I would have to use it in conjunction with ignorance. It is that which produces irrational fears, prejudices, and or judgments. Ignorance is the cause for so many problems in this world. I personally loath people who simply don’t educate themselves, and subsequently go about forcing their opinions and views on others. Often this goes hand in hand with religion, and politics. Both of which I personally dislike as well.

L I K E S

Smell of Old Books. Shakespeare. Demon riding. Coffee. Vintage Cars. Old Motorcycles. Engine Grease. Smell of Gasoline. Cooking. Tea and Biscuits. Women ( Love/Hate ). Learning New Things. The Stars. Smell of Leather. Smoking. Cigars. Whisky on the Rocks. British Rock. Classical Music. Classic Art. Philosophy. Debates. Chess Games. Silence. Living Alone. Personal Space. Vanilla. Cake. Chinese Food. Take Out. Old Car Smell. Sleeping In. Speed ( Going Fast ). Information. Swimming. Family History ( Love/Hate ). Riddles. Fighting Dirty.

D I S L I K E S

Loud Noises. Most Modern Music. Ignorance. Milk in Coffee or Tea. Enclosed Spaces. New Cars. Mindless Video Games. Rude People. Nonsmoking Signs. Nightmares. Small Dogs. Fat Children. Bullies. Racists. Emo Kids. Blogs. Organized Religion. Politics. Ass Kissers. Fake People. Pineapple. Chewing Gum. Small Talk. Emotional Attachments. Death. His Abilities. Money. Sentinels Harming Humans. Lack of Information. Internet ( Wikipedia ). Crowds. Insomnia. Piercings. Running. Tattoos. Family History. ( Love/Hate ). Women ( Love/Hate). Recreational Drugs. Needles.

Q U I R K S

Talks to himself when thinking. Has an ongoing game of chess with himself. Taps his fingers on his chin when reading. Hunt & Pecks when typing. Flips the lid on his Zippo when waiting. Pinches the butt of his cig when he smokes his Silk Cuts. Hates being interrupted. Has a personal space issue. Takes his shoes off while in the house. Tucks the tip of his tie into his waistband. Only takes two ice cubes in his whisky. Knocks with the back of his knuckles. Visits his parents’ grave each year on the an anniversary of their death. Always ties his left shoe first. Same with putting on his pants, left leg first.

D O W N L O W

Sh don’t say anything, but he managed to buy one motorcycle that belonged to James Dean, it’s his pride and joy. What can you say; he’s a Triumph fan through and through.

His father bought him a black Vanquish Ultimate Edition, but he has never driven it. It was the last car his father bought before his death.

S H O W . O F F

S L E I G H T . O F . H A N D
So I am sure you are asking why in the hell London would need to learn a skill like this, well you would be surprised at how it comes in handy. Though I am sure James could use this at parties, if he ever went to any. He tends to use this for far more subtle things, like collecting evidence, or nicking a set of keys from a pocket. James has a quick set of hands, so why not use them. In all fairness he has been doing it since childhood, but later on in life it proved an invaluable thing to have. When he needs to pilfer something that isn’t his, all that matters is if he has room to hide it on his person, because he already has the skills.

D E D U C T I V E . P R O F I L I N G
Once you understand just what this skill is, it becomes clear as to why a hunter would need to know how to do it. Simply put, it is used to interpret evidence, along with a thorough study of the individual’s victimology, in order to understand that specific subjects behavior patterns, and deduce the person’s characteristics, demographics, emotions, and motivations. In even more basic terms, it gets right down to who the target is, and why they do what they do. For London this is a tool that is irreplaceable, because he needs to gather as much information as he can on any potential supernatural being. It’s one of the reasons he studied psychology and forensic sciences. He uses this to keep running census of the sentinels he tracks throughout the Bournemouth area.

E S C A P O L O G Y
Come now, if you can’t understand this then what am I doing here talking about these things. The art of escaping hand cuffs and or other forms of restraint through various means i.e. body contortion or other talents. He isn’t any Harry Houdini, but he has gotten himself out of some sticky situations, some involving the fuzz, others more of the life and death kind. This is also where his sleight of hand comes into play, since he loves to keep a standard handcuff key on him at all times. If he has to he will snag up something to help him pick a lock, cut open ropes, or snap zip ties. London knows that if you don’t get out of whatever mess you’re in fast, you’ll wind up dead. Don’t ask him to do the water tank trick, he isn’t that skilled.

A R C A N E . K N O W L E D G E
There is a sense that arcane knowledge is a form of understanding which penetrates beneath the surface of things, unlocking their substance and or meaning. It could be something that has been gleaned through years of experience or research, or has been impressed only upon an initiated few, such as the high proportion of Belfast taxi drivers who seem to know everything about everything. In London’s case it is a bit of both. There are actually two types of arcane knowledge working in the occult. Mysticism, which is an inwardly directed energy such as meditation, and magic which is energy directed at outer world change such as curses. For years he has been expanding on the knowledge base that was left to him by those that have come before. So you could say James is adding to the legacy that spans his entire family history. Who knows, one day his scribbling might be viewed as insane as his predecessors. For now he simply satiates his own curiosity with the occult, all the while attempting to not suffer the same fate as his long dead ancestors.

I N C A N T A T I O N
It takes proper skill to read spells you know, you can’t just go off spitting out gibberish and expect something good to come of it. Hell, even when you do it properly it’s still a coin flip as to whether or not it backfires in your face. London has studied this veiled art of reading, writing, and using the complex spells that are etched into his skin. After all what are protection spells good for if you don’t know how to use them right? One thing not mentioned about his extensive tattoos is that the ink was mixed to his specifications after tons of research into alchemy. When the proper words are spoken, the ink of his tattoos start to illuminate, activating the ancient power behind the spells.

C O L D . R E A D I N G
This is a trick that London picked up from an illusionist buddy of his to find out express details about another person, all the while convincing them that he knows more about whatever subject he is trying to find out about than he really does. It’s a wonderful and deceitful way of using reverse interrogation on someone. With good observation skills and a few basic fishing questions, James can lead a person into giving up information he is looking for. Most people use it to make them seem to have abilities that they don’t, like seeing the future or talking with spirits. Most of it is just general bullshit questions or statements that whoever is being read at the time wants to believe, or might be looking for. People are real suckers, you don’t even need psychic powers to pry inside their mines. You just need to be able to read body language, place an accent, or simply know how to bluff like a pro poker player.

D E C I P H E R I N G
Because of the state that most of the text in his books and papers that were passed down to him, London has gotten a fair bit of practice at this. Whether it is working out a code key from riddle like clues, or simply trying to read a insane mans old handwriting. Thanks to him studying more than a few languages, James can read quite a few archaic text with relative ease, even if it’s only comparable to a two year old reading Shakespeare written in cuneiform.

E P I C . F A I L

G U A R D E D
Maybe it’s the endless amount of secrets his mind holds, or the fact that he knows there are those hiding amongst us that are simply not human, but London doesn’t tend to drop his guard often. This can also be said when referring to his abilities as well, since he can’t control them very well. Tell me you would be well adjusted if you happened to suffer from sharing feelings and powers with supernatural beings. It has shaken James to the core, and because of this he tends to keep his distance around even normal humans. He is pretty good at faking any kind of social behaviors that he needs to, but in the end, he only lets you see so much of who he really is. Even his mother never knew how abnormal her son was, and if she found out she would be rolling in her grave right about…now.

T R O U B L E D
When you get a crazy thing like being part of an ancient line of protects of the human race thrust on you, it tends to make life a bit of a pain. In reality though the thing that really bothers him is the fact that he seems to be the only one of his kind, which proves to be more frustrating that you can guess. The only source of information within his family was from a crazy old man he never knew, who had left a grimoire of sorts, filled to the brim with indecipherable scribbling and disturbing pictures. Not only does he have to deal with having these powers that seemed to have driven the last man who had them mad, James has to cope with them all by his lonesome. It might be one of his greatest fears, but London doesn’t want to end up like his great-grandfather.

T R I C K S . F O R . T R E A T S

T R A N S F E R E N C E
This baby is the first thing on the list because it is the one thing that bothers poor London on a daily basis. Now you might think that this refers simply to feelings or information. But you would be so wrong. No, our man James here has a grander problem than that, this boy suffers from his ability to take on others powers. You got it, much like you see in comic books baby. Thankfully this is only triggered by the proximity of the source power. So if he high tails his arse far enough away, the powers that he absentmindedly hijacked will fade away. Who knows if this has side effects that add up over time, since the last person to have gifts like him sort of went insane. So far he has not found effects of transference to last more than twenty-four hours, but even that can seem like a life time in some cases.

R E T R O C O G N I T I O N
This would be his strongest latent ability besides transference. Like the former ability, London does not have complete control over this power of his. It’s more like getting spun round blindfolded and told to pin the tail in the donkey. Sometimes he is lucky enough to be able to pick up on residual energy left on an object, allowing him to glean a bit of history or information off of it. Most days though it comes as a surprise even to him when he gets a vision or whatever you would like to call it. Tell you what though, you don’t always want to know what happened in that public restroom you’re using at that given moment.

P R E C O G N I T I O N
Every once in a blue moon the reverse happens, and London grabs a bit of what the future might hold. Most times though, it might only be a few minutes to at the most an hour ahead of time. Real vague pain in the ass if you ask James, but still could be helpful if you happen to see that car coming around the bend at breakneck speeds before it possibly smashes into you head on eh?

I N T U I T I O N
Sometimes a man just knows when he shouldn’t ask that girl for her number, because he gets a gut feeling telling him she would be nothing but trouble, or a bad lay. No matter what it’s about, James has learned to listen to that old-fashioned ‘bad feeling’. This like most everything in his repertoire of lame human abilities is hardly controllable, but at least he can attempt to listen to it once in a while. Some days though it’s just easier to drown it out with whiskey so he can go do something stupid and or heroic.

S Y N C H R O N I C I T Y
He simply has instinctual supernatural ability to be in the right place at exactly the right time. Like moving out of the way just before an area of flooring gives way, or walking in on a girlfriend cheating. Some might simply call this a fluke, most days London questions whether or not it’s particularly good or bad luck. Sometimes it’s just a bloody day wreaker if you ask him. It’s not like he asked for any of this, but there isn’t much he can do about it now is there?

M A G I C I A N S . S E C R E T S

T H E . C E N S U S
Well London here has been keeping tabs on sentinels for a few years now, ever since he gained inheritance of his family estate. James has a census running of the beings he has come in contact with, even if only briefly. He also documents his experiences with different power levels and abilities. All this is part of the meticulous preparation that goes into his ‘job’. For the most part though he only has theories as to if the sentinels have social classes and all that, since all he has are notes and legends to go on. His own research is extensive, but still he only has random pieces of a much larger puzzle.

T H E . H U N T
Once he pins down a suspect sentinel, London investigates as thoroughly as possible. When he finds out what possible powers the thing has, he then derives some kind of action plan. James tires not to jump head first into dangerous situations, but what he plans and what often happens doesn’t always coincided. His powers play a big part in figuring out all of this, even if it happens to wreak havoc on London personally. Overall there are some things that each type of sentinel have in common, and over the years he has been lucky enough to compile ways of ‘dealing’ with them. In the past he has had cases where the trouble was pinned on the supernatural, but it was caused by the darker side of humanity. You would be surprised how many things out there which are sick and twisted have nothing to do with demon possession or preternatural creatures. Each possibility turns London’s insides for a loop, and drives him to drink simply to forget the measures to which he will go to protect the blissfully ignorant human world. Whether it be taking out a human sick beyond any means of help, or killing a creature with far too many human characteristics, it can be hard to tell just who the monster is. Sometimes it’s all simply more than poor James can stomach.

I M M E D I A T E

T H E . M O T H E R
Elizabeth Adelaide London Nee Blackbourne
Adel as his father called her was the prize wife. She was beautiful, smart, and her father had had lots of money and connections. Most believed that she married beneath her, but Elizabeth didn’t care. James loved his mother, even if he was raised by servants more than her. There is a longing in him that wishes he had known her better. In the end you can’t change the past, or the lack of personal relationship the socialite woman had with her rebellious son. Sometimes London wonders if it was the memories of her troubled grandfather that drove a wedge between them. He always wondered if she knew the burden that he would be shouldered with, and simply wanted none of it. Or maybe James was just too much to handle, who knows. What London doesn’t realize, is he has more in common with his mother than he thinks. It is true that the gifts run strong with the males in her family, but still Elizabeth had her own secrets which she took to her grave.

T H E . F A T H E R
Jonathan Alexander London
John was a well known lawyer, smart, charming, and enamored with Adel. Their affair was quick and heated, and before they knew it she was pregnant. So him being the upstanding man that he was, he asked her to marry him. His son was his pride and joy, but his affection was stolen away from his dark boy when his bright little princess came along. This may have played part in how outspoken and unruly James turned out to be as a youthful boy. Him wanting any kind of attention from his father, whether it was positive or negative. When London started cleaning up his act, and showed great prowess in his academia, his father did began to take pride in him. But sometimes it’s all too little too late. It is this rift which left may unspoken feelings that seem to prevent James from actually being content with their history. It is also part of the reason he avoids driving the beautiful car his father had bought him before his death, because a small part of him is still unsure if he is worthy of his father’s pride.

T H E . S I S T E R
Jocelyn Alexandria Whittemore nee London
The second child born to the couple, Jocelyn turned out to be quite James’s opposite. These siblings never got on very well, and her stealing away their father’s affections didn’t help at all. She was the princess who got everything she wished, while London was groomed to take on the family name. As he saw it, he was stuck with the short end of the stick, and as such, he would use it to beat the hell out of his baby sister. James constantly picked on Alex, which did not earn him any points with his father. Because of the rocky childhood past between them, Jocelyn does not talk to her older brother often. Hell she doesn’t even send cards on Christmas events. They see each other once a year, when they both visit their parent’s grave. As adults they do not attempt to smooth over the rifts between them, since Jocelyn still seems to think of London as a lost cause. James is content to let her live in her little world with her womanizing husband. Despite how much they seem to detest each other, they are the only family they have, and somewhere within them there is a blood connection.

S I G N I F I C A N T

G R E A T . G R A N D F A T H E R
Marcus Constantine Blackbourne
James’s namesake and the one person he wishes not to end up like. Marcus was a great man in his time, but after years of constant strain on his sanity he snapped. Most of his information is scattered in cryptic notes, some written before his break down, some afterwards. He is the only link that London has to his family history, which Marcus had documented briefly before he was committed. James is still attempting to understand his great grandfather and the powers that they have in common. In a way he has more of a connection to him than he ever had with his parents, since he has read all of his journals and records. He has dissected every aspect of his ancestor in hopes of understanding himself better, and because of this Marcus has had a great influence on London’s very existence.

T H I N G S . I V E . S E E N

C H I L D H O O D . M E M O R I E S
His birth was like any other in Bournemouth. Lots of screaming, some pain medication, well lots of pain medication. Then London came kicking and screaming into the world, his father cutting the umbilical cord of his first child and only son. Some would glorify it with terms like magical, or something along those lines. When in fact if was nothing of the sort. The glory and joy his father should have had was drowned out by fervent doctors attempting to stop his wife’s bleeding. For the first time in his brand new life, James was billed as runner up. He wasn’t neglected by any means, but his mother was in dire need, and London was is good hands.

As an infant he was coddled and nursed, having someone to wait on him hand and foot twenty-four hours a day. Too bad most of the time it wasn’t his mother who was there for him. She did breast feed though, but James was soon put on the bottle because he was a rather demanding young boy. Again he was placed second to the social life that his mother prided, and was simply brought out as a living accessory when he wasn’t being too fussy. It was far from a hard life, but for a child like London, especially being a boy, he deserved more attention than was paid him.

At the age of two his sister Jocelyn entered the world, and subsequently shoved him even further out of the spotlight. Him being the trouble making boy that he was, James took to disliking his baby sister like a fish to of water. She was the golden haired child of his mother’s dreams and the apple of his father’s eye. London hated the poor girl before she was old enough to reinforce that dislike herself. Things may have been different if he had given the poor girl a chance, but from the get go James refused to even think about Jocelyn in a good light. It was this fact that helped play a part in him acting out whenever he could, just to pull attention from the cherub of a child that was his sister.

As they grew, and both of them went to school, it was his job as always to cause her heartache. For a while Jocelyn worshiped her brother like younger siblings often do, but London made it an extremely hard venture. One minute he was saving Jocelyn from teasing boys, the next he himself was pushing her onto the ground as his spit the typical insults of grad school children. Spending time with the Hunter boy didn’t help him to be anymore proper, since Thane only helped him get into more trouble than he could on his own. Honestly not much has change with him, for he can still be rough around the edges, and most of his honorable actions have some other self gratifying intention. He could be a grand guy, you just have to look past the faults in his rust tinged armor.

S T I C K S . A N D . S T O N E S
From a young age James always felt a bit off kilter, but it was not until around the age of thirteen that he started noticing strange things happening. When he was around his boyhood friend Thane he would find that he got a dirt like taste in his mouth, and his nose tickled with the smell to go along with it. The poor boy never put two and two together, and to this day he has no clue that Thane is a shifter. But at that point in time James knew nothing of his ancestral powers. Back then it was even more uncontrollable than it is now, but that isn’t really saying much now is it.

Slowly London started withdrawing from what little friends he had, and keeping to himself more and more. It was hard for him to have any kind of public life, for fear that he would see or feel something that would upset the poor boy. His exposure to powers was all so overwhelming, and his worst bout was when he gleaned a seer’s powers, and for a full twenty-four hours he saw dead people. What they don’t often tell you is when you can see them, they can see you. London was antagonized all day, and refused to come out of his own closet for anything. Now the poor boy was becoming plain jumpy. With a constant bombardment of strange powers invading his body and mind on a regular.

Two years after it all started his mother and father had seen fit to allow him to be home schooled, since he refused to leave the house unless physically forced. What James doesn’t know is that his mother fought to get his father to allow him that much, because she feared what public life would do to him. It was then that she realized her son was not going to escape the family legacy, and all she could do was try and help him as much as she possibly could. She could not share information with him, for she herself was not allowed to know such secrets. All she could do was protect him, hoping beyond hope that what little she did do would save his sanity, at least for a while.

As the years went on he grew an appetite to learn of others like him, and with the help of history books and the family’s vast library, James delved into an elusive world of legends and mythology. When he was old enough to enter university, he jumped at the chance. James had asked his parents about going to school within the city of London and they reluctantly allowed him that request. It was while he was away from home that he really started to come into his own.

T H E . W A Y W A R D . S O N
Whether or not him leaving home was a good thing or not could be contested, but as with all things in the past, we can only speculate. While studying for his first degree London became dependant on two vices that still haunt him to this day. One would be alcohol, which was one of the only things that helped him dull down the rollercoaster of effects his powers caused. The second is smoking his infamous silk cuts. He liked that most people hated the taste of them and as such would not ask for a fag if they were too cheap to buy their own. This habit allowed him to look busy when he needed to, or give him a reason to get away from people for a while. Allowing him the distance he was learning would help lessen his problems, as well as calm his nerves and replace any vial taste in his mouth with one he was familiar with.

He was desperately trying to find out how to negate or control the things that were happening to him, as well as find more clues as to what he exactly was. London knew he was human, that was never the question, but he had these abysmal powers for a reason, there had to be a reason. On his search to understand all kinds of magic and mysticism, James found himself face to face with an underground cult. They were pathetic in their attempts to twist ancient teachings to fit in with the trendy use of drugs and committing acts of sexual depravity. The sexual stuff was not his problem, in fact he had found out about it all from a girl he had been seeing on and off for a while. No, the problem came when one of the supposed leaders of the cult muttered some gibberish and used a parlor trick to fake some kind of spiritual happening.

All hell broke loose when London called the prick out on it, which sent the man into a state. James spat the facts of how he had said the incantation wrong, and that if he held any kind of power he would have known it. Saying something to the effect that he could cause one of his followers to have an epileptic seizer with his light show rather than get some awe inspiring creature to show its nonexistent mug. That very night London had not only gotten laid while riding a damn fine high, but he ended up with a broken finger after breaking the man’s jaw. Later James found out that the cult has disbanded shortly after that night, the trick was revealed about how the man had been creating the light show. A string of Christmas lights and some tensile will go along way when most of your audience are as high as kites.

The first time London was investigating some missing person’s cases around the city, he found himself face to face with something certifiably supernatural. The hint had been his insatiable thirst, one that his small pocket flask contents didn’t seem to slake. At this time he was currently searching an abandoned building for any clues when he stumbled upon something else. London got his first look at a sentinel. The siren was feeding at the time on one of the missing university boys. What was shocking is that the sight of it did not overly affect him, even though he knew he should be disgusted. Instead he could feel the overwhelming need to satiate his thirst. His presence disrupted the siren, and lucky for him the sentinel was a bit too perplexed for real any kind of confrontation, so he escaped through one of the broken basement windows. While James subsequently threw up all over his own shoes, his body and mind was revolting against his unnatural need for the blood.

After that London threw himself into his research, becoming obsessed with finding as much information on sentinels as he could. This proved to be a hard thing to do, since most of the information revolved around myths and legends of monsters and demons. As his studies took him further into the occult and James found himself on the darker side of the subject. He traveled all over England following leads on information, most of which proved to be dead ends, or lesser forms of magic. A few times he found himself face to face with things he could not explain. Still he only had rudimentary theories on just what sentinels were. James was also experimenting with all kinds of things in attempt to block out the adverse effects he suffered from.

M I S S I N G . P E R S O N S
[i]Less than a year before he would receive his Master in Philosophy, James got a phone call from his sister. His parents had gone missing when their 34’ sailboat capsized, and to this day London is unsure how it could have happened. Their bodies were never found. As soon as James could he made his way back to Bournemouth, since it was up to him to oversee everything with the help of the family’s solicitor. London was left with the estate; along with a great deal of the family’s wealth. What he did not expect was one of the things his mother had left him. In a lockbox within the family vault was a skeleton key which could unlock a few of the unused rooms about the homestead, namely the basement and his great grandfather’s study. She had also left note which simply had only a few words on it written in her beautiful scrolling text. ‘Beware my son.’

With a sense of foreboding instilled in him by his mothers note, London unlocked the door which would change his life forever. The things he had learned before now were nothing compared to the knowledge that he found within this forgotten room. Stacks of books and notes scattered the large room, and within the center of it all was a large desk piled with more papers. It took James two solid weeks and many sleepless nights before he left that office. In that short amount of time London had filled his mind to the brim with new discoveries. He had found out that his great grandfather Marcus Blackbourne also had an obsession with the occult, and that he had been practicing alchemy, before he went insane that is.

It took London another year and a half to go through all of the information, which not only had answered some of his questions, but brought on even more in their wake. Now James was more determined to find answers. Armed with his new knowledge, London set off to investigate some of the information Marcus had found. Meeting up with new contacts as well as old ones, James delved even deeper into a dark world that had haunted him for years. He found that his family came from a long line of those with extra ordinary powers, just like the ones he had been gifted and or cursed with. These men were guardians of a sort, tracking down these other worldly beings that threatened human kind, these so called sentinels which had been documented by his great grandfather and a few others. James spent years traveling all over Europe, documenting as much as he could of his findings, and attempting to survive run-ins with rogue sentinels. London began to gain a reputation at being involved in high profile occult cases. More than a few times he had been arrested as a suspect in a murder case, but in the end he would get off for lack of evidence or dropped charges.

After his last close call in Ireland, James returned to Bournemouth and his family’s homestead, to attempt to shed new light on old information.

H E R E . A N D . N O W

U N S O L V E D . M Y S T E R I E S
Since returning home from his travels London had been going through his notes, and his great grandfathers with a fine tooth comb. Attempting to put together the large puzzle that surrounds not only his family legacy, but sentinels in general. Like any good investigator he has been keeping his ear to the ground, and low and behold things have been cropping up on his radar. All of them a little too close to home. So in order to keep up pretenses for being here in his home town, London has enrolled in the local University. Continuing his studies, James is on the road to getting his Ph.D in philosophy.

For several months now he has been keeping his eye on the stories cropping up in the news, all strangely centering on Bournemouth and the local areas. Little does he know there are other hunters like him in town, who have a lot harsher means of collecting information. London has managed to keep a distance from the others though since he is quite secretive. He may have noticed people poking their noses about, but as of yet he doesn’t know details about project redemption, nor has he really investigated into who and what they are. Right now all he’s worried about is the supernatural shit storm that seems to be brewing in his hometown.

With the recent death of his former schoolmate and friend Thane Hunter’s parents, London has started to take a more active approach to his investigation in their deaths. And since their bodies have gone missing, James just might have to pay his old friend a visit, if for nothing more than a bit or reminiscing and some information.

You can call me Ghost !? and I'm in the undead time zone. You guys suckered me in with animal crackers and bad humor and I guess I'll be sticking around to post metaphorically inconsistent per week. Tell you something though, you need to clean up some of these dead bodies, it’s starting to smell.

[ straight ] to . H E L L

R P . SA M P L E

” Come on Louie, get your ass moving. We don’t have time for you to be temperamental. The large lion stood at the edge of the ring, too stubborn to enter the small tunnel that lead to his portable cage. Not that moving a eight foot long, seven hundred and forty three pound lion is easy. Liam knew that Louie would rather walk freely, since when the circus was empty enough he got to do just that. But right now there were too many people about, and Griffin would not risk having someone sneaking around where they shouldn’t and get hurt. Not that Louie wasn’t just a big kitten, since he had grown up in captivity all his life, something he knew had caused the sheer size of the majestic animal. ” I promise to pick you up a batch of corn dogs if you behave old man. I know how you love them, even if they are bad for you. With that the lion made a strange huffing sound of content and stepped into the bar clad hallway. Liam smiled and patted him on the rear. Bribery always worked with Louie, the only real way to get a lion that big to do what you wanted.

Shutting the heavy door behind Louie, Griffin made a circle motion with his hand over his head, and the large caged ring lifted. He stood at the edge watching the strong steel bars fade into the heights of the canvas tent. When his show started Liam would enter the ring, no bars or animals to speak of, just him in his lion tamer trappings. Then after a little speech the cage would lower, more for the protection of the lions from the humans, than vice versa. Then the act would ensue, bringing out all manner of large cats. First the tigers, then the lions, all in the same large circle shaped cage. Liam hated doing some of the things he was ordered to do, typical acts that made a mockery of how beautiful these powerful animals were. Jump through a ring of fire or two, and show just how brave the man in the ring was. Honestly if you tossed him out in the crowed he would be more scared than he was in the ring with the predatory cats.

Walking past the edge of the main ring, Liam looked around the large tent. There were workers cleaning up after the patrons that had been ushered out into the night air. He held in one of his hands the long bull whip that was more of a prop than a real tool, because when a big cat decided it wanted to eat you, not much good a thirteen foot leather cat toy would do you. It was more to startle the audience than scare the cats, which it served more as a signal for when doing tricks. Griffin hated that he had to wear a silly costume for the shows, but compared to everyone else he was far less flashy. Simply a knock off version of Indiana Jones or something. The dusty and beat up fedora cocked sideways on his head was just another gimmick to make him more tough looking, along with the combat boots and cargo pants. Sometimes he even had a revolver filled with blanks strapped to his leg to add more drama to the show. Nothing like shooting off a gun so loud it made every person in the tent jump out of their seats. After all they were here to be scared and awed, and Liam was supposed to be the hero.

As he exited the back of the tent he was greased by Louie who was waiting patiently for Griffin to take him back to his main holding cage, right after they stopped for corn dogs that is. The lion sent more than a few pictures of plump batter covered things on sticks, along with a heavy hungry feeling, and a clear single word. “Food?” Laughing a bit Liam reached into the cage and ruffled the big cat’s mane, he almost purred a response in his own deep gravel ridden voice. ” Yes Lou, we will get us some food, just hold you’re horses yeah. Removing his hand from the cage Griffin made sure the door was secure, and unhooked it from the metal loading dock. Checking the four tires of trailer the cage rested on, he unlocked each one as he went. ” Ok, let’s get out of here old buddy.

Kicking a long leg over the old beat up quad that he used to move the cages about, Liam hung the wound up whip over one of the handlebars, before attempting to kick the reluctant motor to life. First try was a bust, same with the second and third one. ” Damn it to hell! Griffin cursed a bit loader than he would have liked, and plopped down on the mangled and taped up seat. Checking over his shoulder he found Louie watching him quizzically from his cage. ” Don’t you dare say a thing, or you won’t get the treat I promised you. Removing himself from the faulty ATV Liam bent down to check out the engine more closely. This was the last thing he needed right now. He was hungry, tired, and Louie was growing more frustrated and impatient as time passed. The large cat paced in his small cage, as Griffin attempted to get this show on the road.

[James London]

” Jesus Christ. I need a strong drink.

[lexxibeth]

. C O N G R A T U L A T I O N S .
guess that means they like you

Top to tail we love this poor, tortured soul! Many a misdeed will surely be heading his way!


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You've made the ranks love, very well done indeed.
Be sure to claim your face, cook up your own subplot or simply start to network.

Bournemouth's your oyster, baby.