Elias Whittaker

A quick blurb about who they are in the present including Occupation, Relationships, and Afilliated Campaign

## Appearance

Elias is a forty-five year old white man, roughly 5'10", with matted blonde hair and a matching scruffy beard. He has light blue eyes and wears a tan trench-coat with a loose-fitting, creased collared shirt underneath. Matching his trench-coat, and showing his age, he wears khaki trousers with dark brown loafers.

## Personality

Elias has a fiery personality, quick to temper, brash in his actions, but definite in his resolution. Most notably in his interactions with Steven, Elias often lashed out at him over their differences and over old scars and conflicts between them. This fire is, unfortunately, fanned by a stubborn nature and an almost-obsession with firearms. However, he still holds a compassionate streak beneath all that fire and stubbornness. This was best exemplified in Elias saving Freya during the Leshy fight and helping in scaring away the prep boys when first arriving in Chelan.

## Backstory

It was a dark and cold little October night, a year back, when I got called out on my strangest, and final, job. Initially I didn't think nothin' of it. Just break in and retrieve a package from the designated building, and leave before I get shot. All of it was par for the course, hell, even the client was a bit of a regular!

I got the address for the place, I grabbed my guns: Sasha and Nicole (named em after some real bitch exes. (Bad taste? Yeah. Funny? Hell yeah!), and left for the mark. Anyways, I got to the storehouse this package was supposedly in and i did my usual bit, "Evenin' everyone! My name is Elias, and though you're probably not gonna like it I got people that want what you have! We can be nice and professional and you can hand it over, or, I can introduce you to the girls!" Always worth a shot, never really one to waste ammo and energy on some punks who can't tell their ass from their head.

So I chose to brave the darkness and moving towards this faint red glow in the back of the building. Gun drawn and all my senses on overdrive saying I was tense is an understatement. I was scared. "Hey! If anyone's in here speak now or I will put a bullet between your eyes!" No response, of course not. As I approached the glow it… pulsed? It felt weird, inhuman even, so calming in its gentle pulses yet chilled me to the bone with every step closer. Well, can't say i didn't deserve it, but the next thing I remember was that pulse stopping, only for a second, before exploding in a shower of blood red light; and then I passed out.

I woke up what I can only assume was a few hours later, head ringing, back aching and heavily breathing. Whatever "package" the drifters wanted clearly wasn't fucking here, it was a damn trap! Furious, I shambled up to my feet and started walking out the door, with Sasha and Nicole in either hand. This damn storehouse felt a mile long after that explosion… and as i got closer to the faint streetlight outside i heard what sounded like, whispers? No. It couldn't have been. No one else is here. "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" I roared like a beast out of hell, but the whispers kept coming! Men, women and… children? Right in front of me was a mound of corpses, their faces gaunt and pale, some missing completely, and they were all staring at me; all whispering. Frozen in fear I almost missed the Wolf-like creature on top of the mound, it was tearing into the bodies and having quite the feast. Terrified, I unloaded into it and yelled, begged, for it not to kill me. The bullets didn't do shit all and instead the wolf turned towards me and growled, "This is your doing… these corpses are your cross to bear and I am your sin…" Without a moment to spare the Wolf leapt from the mound and towards me. My only thoughts: I don't know what it was, I don't know why it's me, but I don't want to die... I don't want to suffer. I braced for the pain, but, there was none! When i opened my eyes the bodies were gone, the wolf too, and I was alive! As i left, feeling thankful for every ounce of life in me I heard it: a growl. This time, from inside my head. "Guess it's time to make a change… will that make ya happy Fido?" I say, to no response, "ah, this is gonna be the start of one hell of a hate-ship."

A warm and cozy June night 2 years ago, a crazy-ass cop and me. What do these things have in common? Well, you'll see all that in a minute. For now let's take a little trip down memory lane, back to when times were simpler and all I had to worry about was my next paycheck.

Truth be told I really disliked having to do summer jobs, always muggy out, too many people and the sun doesn't set till fucking nighttime! But hey, buck's a buck right? Anyways, it was gettin' to be around midnight and I was gearing up for my job: burn down some local politician's vacation cottage (occupants' safety not a concern). With some jerry cans loaded into a tote, lighters and matches crammed into my pockets and the nighttime air filling my lungs I made my way out to the cottage. Nice place honestly, secluded, peaceful and lots of land; I wouldn't mind settling down in a place like that sometime in the future. Everything was going according to plan, I wasn't being tailed (as far as I could tell), the occupants were asleep and I was free to do business. Or, at least, I thought I was.

Turns out I had a one-man peanut gallery hiding out in the thicket by the cabin! Some new firebrand detective that got tipped off to my whereabouts. Of course, I didn't realize this until it was too late and he had jumped out of the brush doing the same speech every officer gives me when they want to arrest someone. You know it? "Blah blah blah you're under arrest for blah blah blah you can come silently or I'll have to blah blah blah." After you've heard it as many times as I have you start to recite the speech for them, and it gets a hundred times more boring. But, being the kind-hearted hired criminal I am, I like to save them the breath. (You see, after ten or fifteen of these speeches you learn the pattern of them: some long winded speech then pulling a gun on me.) So, I take the initiative and shoot first, ask questions later. Is it cruel? Yeah. Do I care? Only when i miss the headshot.

"You have the right to remain silent," is all I needed to hear before reaching for my gun. "Routine and simple," is what was going through my head as the click of the holster coming open and the feel of the weapon's grip is all I needed to focus on. Then, suddenly- bang! Bang!- He was still standing! That bastard beat me in a quickdraw! In over twenty encounters with police officers and this fucking rent-a-cop got me in the chest! The burning sensation of the open wound bleeding and throbbing, the smell of a fired gun and the fucking rage boiling my blood was all I could sense in the moment. It wasn't all bad though, in the end I managed to hit him in the shoulder too. I could see the look in his eyes, he didn't want to die and I certainly didn't want to let this be the end of my escapades.

So, we gave each other a knowing glance and agreed to go our separate ways. I wouldn't set that cabin on fire and he wouldn't kill me. We both walked away, hurt, and I knew that this wasn't a loss I'm going to let slip. I will beat that bastard, but hey, I can kind of respect a man able to beat me in a quickdraw… kind of. He's still a bastard

## Trivia

* His first actions when arriving in Chelan was to gun down several prep boys who were assaulting Lucian
* his favorite song is "Rockstar" by Nickelback
* he's banned from over 500 Craxby's across the country