Post by Zion Haydn on Nov 10, 2020 5:14:39 GMT -6
Zion Haydn
Name: Zion Haydn
Nickname: Pinstripe
Canon or OC: OC
Sexuality: Gay
Rank: Sinner
Demon/Angel Type:Snake
Year of Death: 1921
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Appearance: Zion stands at an average 5'9. His skin is an ashen, dark grey, surprisingly untouched with scars or blemishes. Four lanky arms extend out, tensed with muscle, able to bend and twist in unnatural and inhuman ways. Each arm from his forearms down are covered in glittering scales, coloured a light silver. Each of his five fingers end in sharp, sickle like ebony-coloured claws. Retractable for ease of use. His face is usually calm or contented, his mouth at first glance is average, although in his full demon form it is able to unfold into four pieces, revealing rows of razor sharp, blackened teeth. He has four eyes, each of them a deep purple. They have soft, silvery hair, hanging down past their shoulders. It is usually tied back into a neat bun. Their waist and hips flares off into a long, somewhat thick and powerful snake tail, silver scales giving way to a soft grey underbelly.
He can usually be seen wearing his trademark purple pinstripe suit and black gloves, cleanly pressed and ironed.
Powers:
- Despite no proclivity towards the occult or mystical in the Waking World, Zion has been gifted with unnatural abilities upon his imprisonment in Hell. In desperate situations he is able to manipulate his own blood outside of his body, the daemon can form his blood into both hardened blades and barricades, at the cost of his own vitality.
- As someone who is not geared for combat, Zion much prefers the art of manipulation and the deal. Much like other daemons, Zion can make deals with others of his kind in exchange for their servitude, or in the extreme instances- their soul.
Likes: Music, Reading Fiction, Listening to the Radio and Gramophone, Running his Bar, Chatting with Folk
Dislikes: The Sex Industry, Figures that abuse power, Loud Folk, The Rich, Coffee
Friends/Relatives: N/A
Personality: Generally regarded and seen as standoffish by his peers when he was a Lieutenant, Zion has almost come alive with his death. Outwardly a rather upbeat, seemingly caring individual, these traits only extend surface deep for most folk he interacts with. In reality his many years trapped in Hell have made him a particularly deeply regretful and depressed individual, although he'd be the last to admit it. He is fiercely loyal to those he cares for, and is almost obsessed with those that catch his eye. He is deeply interested in rising the ranks of daemonkind through any means necessary, to the point where he'll gladly work for most Overlords without any second thought. Despite his old age, Zion still tries to keep up with the times, although he doesn’t make an aggressive attempt to try and humanize himself towards the ‘youths’ of Hell.
History: Born at the very tail-end of the nineteenth century to an Irish Catholic father and an Italian Mother, Zion did not have much growing up. Being born into a family of such poverty seemed to ignite the envy in Zion, who quickly vowed to never be as low as his parents, or the other folk in his community were. This element was only compounded by the sudden and shocking death of his mother when he was still a child, the money scarce enough that they could not afford a doctor.
With his father's passing when he was sixteen, Zion was contacted by a friend of the family, a foreign priest in Italy, far wealthier than Zion's entire family. He sought to take Zion as his own, moved by his bad stroke of fate.With this sudden miracle Zion accepted the invitation, vowing to do all he could to help other kids escape from similar areas.
But we all know how the saying goes, The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Training as a priest in the Vatican City, it would not be long until he discovered his Mentor's place as the head of the local Mafia family.
Low on cash and looking to make a difference in the local underprivileged communities, the Priest joined the Family, his church being used as a front for many of their illegal deeds. Almost all the money Zion received would get sent back out into the community. Things were good for Zion for this short time, and he steadily climbed the ladder, stopping at nothing to advance further.
It wouldn't be too long until the flow of money into his coffers, and the presence of the richer members of the Mafia Family reignited the Envy in his heart. Now at a reasonably high ranking position as one of the four Lieutenants, Zion attempted a coup with his underlings in order to control the whole family. Leading a good half of the mafia's men himself, most of them indebted to the man, Zion stormed the mansion of his Mentor. However, despite his numbers and with the assistance of the local authorities, his coup failed and he fled into the night.
Outraged by such a betrayal, his Mentor had Zion murdered in his own church, stabbed repeatedly before being dumped in an iced over lake. The police ignored the murder, claiming it to be suicide. And that was that.
Zion was mortified and grief-stricken upon arriving into Hell, overwhelmed by his sin and his monstrous form. He wished for nothing more than to go back, as once more he was cast down as the lowest of the low. It has taken him years now for him to even barely regain a hint of his former splendor, owning a small bar that acts as a front for his own little gang of peers.
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About you.
About you.
Rp Alias: Hyde
Preferred Pronouns: He/Hm
Sample Rp: Hell. Very few folk wished to be here, and those that did were the tip of folk to be avoided at all costs. A thick, acrid stench burnt the inside of the demon's nostrils as he moved through the dingy, dimly lit alleyways of Pentagram City, avoiding the stray bits of shattered glass and splattered fluids. Blood, booze, body fluids, he didn't care. He'd loathe to get his lovely suit dirty. He palmed at the cool metal in his hand, a small, boxy pistol , more protection than anything, but it's intricate engravings kept his mind off of the multiple possibilities that could happen here.
It was far too soon that he reached the small, dingy clearing among the mazes of the alleyway. Two muscled, bat-wielding figures stood guard, staring blankly ahead. Beyond them, a figure wreathed in shadow. Then, a voice spoke out through the darkness, striking the serpent dead-on. "You're late, Pinstripe."