2019 by Abi & Two. Proudly created with Wix.com

Oct 28

Javier Guerrera

0 comments

 

Javier was born on September 30th, 1993 in San Antonio, Texas. His parents were both drug addicts and struggled with paying bills when he was born. For a formative part of his life, Javier lived in poverty with his biological parents. Once a week they would walk a few miles to the local Catholic church to eat a free dinner provided by the church. It was on one of these excursions that Javier had his first encounter with the supernatural, albeit unwittingly.

 

On a windy Sunday evening, Javier, 13 years of age at the time, was walking down a secluded alley heading toward St. Mary’s with his parents when they were stopped by a man with long black hair and a long, crimson overcoat. He approached Javier’s father first, a sinister smile adorning his otherwise pale facial features. With blinding speed, the man swiped his hand across the father’s neck, and blood began to spray outward from the wound. The man in the crimson coat opened his mouth and began to drink from the sudden fountain of blood, as Javier’s mother looked on in complete shock. After a few seconds, a shrill shriek came from her, but she too was quickly silenced. Little Javier watched on in horror, his body frozen from the suddenness of what had just happened. The man in crimson, his face covered in blood, turned and slowly looked at poor Javier, his next victim.

 

What happened next was nothing short of a miracle, at least in Javier’s eyes. As the man in crimson stood upright to prey on his next victim, a sickening, squishy thud echoed briefly through the alley, followed by a familiar voice quietly reciting a passage from the Bible. “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood... but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” With a sharpened wooden stake protruding through his chest and leaking blood, the man in crimson fell to his knees, a surprised look on his face. Behind him stood a priest, one Javier was familiar with. It was the parish priest from St. Mary’s… an older gentleman with grey hair. He was in street clothes, and it took Javier a moment to recognize him.

 

“Father!” Javier exclaimed, running around the dead vampire to hug his savior. As the priest opened his arms, Javier buried his face into the man’s shoulder and began to wail, his screaming cries only suppressed by the fabric of the priest’s sweater.

 

Days later, things were explained to Javier… He would begin his training as a hunter shortly after this incident. Supported by the unknowing local congregation, Javier became quite a good hunter of the unnatural. He had his fair share of close calls, but after years of hunting throughout the city, San Antonio seemed to be well under control.

 

After much prayer and deliberation, Javier decided that it was time to move away from San Antonio. He began researching different places to continue his work, and landed upon the strange town of Wailing Rock. He read up on the city’s strange history and “legends” and decided that this was where the Holy Spirit was encouraging him to continue “the Lord’s work”.

 

Javier packed his things into a modified, black 1976 El Camino and began the journey toward Washington. It was time to bring a bit of heavenly truth and justice to the islands.

New Posts
  • Name: Lucifer Winchester (Goes by Luci or Luke) Age: 20 though he'll consistantly seem 18 Height: without heels he appears 5'7ish weight: somewhere between 140 and 160, hes not weighed himself or seen a doctor in a few years now. Likes: Aimee, weed, games, comics, art, fashion, painting. Dislikes: stains.. (might have mild ocd) when Aimee touches his paints. (minor things) Lucifer's parents were quite the interesting pair. One could have easily said they never left their 'goth' phase. However both were practicers of occult despite it not being close to actual witchcraft. They were the wannabees everyone hated. Thus it was no surprise when the two conceived a child, a son, they'd name him Lucifer. Of course, the omen came when his mother passed in childbirth. Or, at least thats what his father felt. Lucifer and he often had heated arguments, more so as Lucifer started to express himself through his clothing and appearance, choosing more of a feminine appeal. To be fair, he would wear mens clothes too, it was truly just whatever was most comfortable at the time. He preferred things with high quality looks with what little money he could either steal from his father or earn doing things for the kids around school. In school, however, is where he met Aimee. Somewhere amid the classes he picked up the theater side of things, costuming and painting backdrops. He fell for her somewhere amid helping her with a costume and just talking about things. But who would want a guy like him? Certainly no woman. So, thus began his stalking. He stalked her from sophomore year through to graduation, and then even after. During the last bits of high-school he was working in a gay bar called 'Bottoms Up' which put on drag shows and did singles nights, and once he was old enough he started bar-tending for them. Amid bar-tending he met a man named Adam. An older gentleman, Adam warmed up to Lucifer rather quickly, telling him of the woman he loved and felt he lost, and it wasnt long before Lucifer fell into bed. The night had been heated and he was soon met with a sharp pain in his throat.... He tried resisting, tried getting this man off of him, to no use. He was drained dry and turned. It was far from happy action... the two had words and in a rage Lucifer attacked him... told him Aimee would have never hurt him like this, forced him to be this way. Adam turned dark. Words Lucifer will always remember. "Then I suppose, I'll eliminate the competition" Aimee was attacked while she was tagging a wall in the forest. Lucifer, however, wasnt standing for it. He protected her with everything he had and everything he knew. Adam was left bloodless on the forest floor. Terrified, he healed Aimee, explaining everything to her in his panic. He must have apologized a million times.. but was silenced with a soft kiss to his bloodied lips. The two buried Adam somewhere in the ocean, hoping a shark or something would destroy the body, and decided they'd spend the rest of time together.. Aimee feeding Lucifer so he'd never go without and Lucifer providing Aimee with love and protection. Soon enough Lucifers 'nightmares' led them to moving far from the deposit site of Adam's body, and to Wailing Rock... What could go wrong?
  • Name: Megan Lilac Macleod age:18 Height: ..shes short Weight: a bit of a thicker snicker Scent: Lilac Perfume Occupations: Waitress at The Rodex Burlesque Dancer Human Origins Megan was born to a scheming mother, and a estranged father with a family of his own, used as a tool for blackmail and a means to sponge money. She'd go through her early years learning first hand about the corruption of man. Quietly observing the actions of those around her and the many faces that came an went from her home all caught up in her mothers game of social climbing through the use of her body. Through out the years she'd find some escape through the means of music and dance with a preference for the ballet. in spite of her shorter height compared to others she proved capable of the art gaining herself a scholar ship to a decent arts collage in New York city. Things were looking well for her an escape to something better was in her sights. To ash in her mouth as her haven were short lived through her studies in the collage she found herself a point of fixation and interest to one of the collage professors. The interest starting out in compliments and extra instruction. With each day the fixation grew she found new manifestations surfacing as the professor would advance further and further. Her sanity were hanging by a shred as she made a plan to end it once an for all. Everything were set in its place as she had him meet with her under the premise of giving herself completely to him. The pig went willingly being bound to the chair and she had the matches in her hand. Unfortunately time werent on her side as the two were caught by his wife. Upon being caught and assumed to be a adulterating mistress it didnt take long for her name to be black listed through the city of New York and to lose her place in the collage. Even disowned by her parents as she were packed up and shipped to wailing rock in hopes her laying low would offer a better start, No one could have guessed just how far she would fall. The Rise of Priselle Priselle came in to existence through the emotions of the first woman scorned, born to feed off the envy and wrath of jealous spouses. She is perhaps a little pretentious as a beauty of the darkness even in her true form. Not one to shy away when it comes to speaking her truth if she has an opinion you will hear it wither you like it or not. Priselle blends well with humans as she has a soft spot for the trinkets of mortals and rather enjoys items of luxury as each pricey item fuels her more with the envy of others, Her story among the world of mortals is yet to be written
  • Thackery Claybourn heard the call of cosmos incarnate ... or so she imagined, her madness having descended to depths rarely seen but for the darkest cellars of asylums long-closed. The resonant, rousing cry of the earth itself from far across the sea summoned her to these moonlit shores of one Wailing Rock. Her footsteps sank into the shifting sands of timeless, tide-worn earth, sea creatures disturbed by each successive step in her plodding journey. Bubbles errupted from her clogged lungs, bursting on the surface not far above now as she drew nearer to her destined destination. The veiled head of an old, weary woman breached the surface, her one cloudy eye gazing around the cliffs while the light-house beam sweeps across them. Bubbles disturb the water of her half-submerged face and she strides onward, rising out of the water with a steady strength that betrays her apparent age. Confident steps take her onto solid land, soaked to the bone with sea water and skin like a shrivelled prune. In one hand, a hook, in the other, a crook, raising both to the full moon in a deep, rumbling roar that rises to a shriek. Her knees buckle beneath her and they thump into the sand, the rest following suit until she's prostrate before the fateful cliffs, making unnatural, unseemly sounds like a cat out of hell with a hairball stuck in her guts. She retches, she gags, she pukes and spasms as gob after gob of stringy seaweed erupts from her very lungs where she'd shoved it with ritual purpose. Now it flails from her mouth like salty tentacles, wriggling as the last few air-pockets pop and hiss their enchanted breath into the night. The drooling old woman suddenly seems every bit her age; gone was the strength that saw her across the sea bed. Lights in clifftop dwellings turn on here and there, but curiosity gives way to fear and indifference for the most part. T'was just a beast in heat, surely. Thackery Claybourn, Green Hag of Pendle Hill, had reached her final destination; the invigorating thought being all that kept her from passing out with exhaustion and magical fatigue. Certainly if not for the full moon's boon this would never have happened by her hand alone. Her arthritic head turns on a creaky old neck.... noticing the smaller island shimmering offshore. "Gamorrah's hairy balls.. I'm on the wrong cunting island" said the dear old lady, and promptly fell comatose in the soothing surf, which whispered promises of a pleasant death in her ear. Her sleeping mouth gaped like a fish out of water, wider and wider still... until a brown raggedy rat struggles out. Thackery manages two words, though they may be her last "Jenkins... Fetch..." Her vermin, familiar with the cryptic command, scuttles into town to lure a cat that lures a dog, in turn its owner to the cliff edge - where a woman lays dying on the beach. A bell was rung. Ropes were cast. A call went out for aid.