Age: Eighteen years, two months, eleven days, five hours, twenty-six minutes, forty-four seconds...forty-five seconds.
Gender: A body that is shaped from testosterone, with a soul that is ambiguous and filled with malevolent vengeance.
Sexual Orientation: They all breath and die the same, so there is no difference.
Role: A deal with a devil, signature carved in blood and flesh.
Crush: Soda will kill you.
Boyfriend/Girlfriend: Once there was a girl with a mind that expanded away from here and towards the stars. She told me that if I wanted to be loved I had to sort myself out, rearrange the nonsense in my brain and inhale new knowledge. Turn the darkness into light, force the water in my lungs to act as my oxygen. I did as she said, and I was so thrilled with what I discovered; I had to show her, force her to understand my new found joy. Now she can touch the stars she fancied so much, and I wonder if she is happy now.
Do you have a Demon?: The raucous voice calls himself Naberius.
Contract Details: "I am not generous in nature, my services do not go without a price. There is only one thing that will satisfy me enough to bond myself to such an ignorant creatures, I ask of you to give me lives. Is your mind so corroded that you will act as the executioner in exchange of power?" "It is." Four lives payed as sacrifice; a man of fifty, the woman in her late forties, a girl nearly a woman and a boy hardly a child - only one with the last name Chamberlain, but all sharing blood. The power of heat is at his fingertips, his body no longer harmed by the biting flames. Rory is now a boy that plays with fire, rather than one that fears it, and wields it with the wish of witnessing even the oceans being reduced to ash. A room can be made hot in his presence, fires in the area can grow, and blossom from his body. With a touch a surface can become torrid, which is useful when applied to his weapon of choice, a fire poker.
Height: 6'1
Build: Lean
Contract Mark: The black seal of Naberius covers the back of ones neck.
Looks: Standing tall and slouched, those dark eyes dart through the room, deep set and surrounded by long eyelashes. His skin is pale, one may even think the melanin in his skin has the potential to turn him translucent. It stretches over his muscles, covering his organs and bones, leaving little body fat to be found. Rory, his face - the shape of hearts young girls dot their I's with, the features not certainly handsome or homely. Sloped nose, full lips, strong chin, straight eyebrows; they all make him a person we have seen before. His shoulders aren't terribly broad, his limbs aren't hauntingly long, with hands and feet that meet average sizes. Those fingers do not turn piano masters green, but the nails are rough, jarred and uneven from teeth. Rory's body is littered with cigarette burns, old and new. They dot his arms, legs, tracing his skin, ribs and neck. His hair is growing long, messy and unkempt, in the color of black licorice. The long fringe he keeps covers circular burns on his forehead, the rest covering few marks on the back of his neck, but not enough to hide that disgraceful black seal on his skin.
Personality:
A paranoid psychopath isn't a person one would be pleased about meeting, but by definition, they may not know this until it is too late. His words are well constructed lies, charismatic and entrancing, he tells little truths in favor of gaining the trust of others. It may be superficial, but Rory has the charm that makes people feel good about themselves, special. He enjoys using a vast vocabulary to make himself appear as if he was a fantasy, a misunderstood prince from a storybook, someone who will take you away from all the pain and suffering if you only place your faith in him. The apparent free spirit will protect you from the horrors and monsters, he will defeat the boogeyman and light the path towards a beautiful future. In reality the act is only to save himself and assess others; for if he decides that one deserves it, and there are little that don't, he will turn on them and attack to put an end to their lives.
Killing people is a passionate action for him, he does not plan to kill people right away, but works up to it until the right moment. He takes joy from the action, ridding the world from people he deems unworthy of breathing it's air. Many times the process of murder will start angry and rise to elation, the process even becoming addicting, as he thinks about it too often to properly satisfy him. Others may find themselves in the same position with sex or drugs, but for Rory there is nothing like witnessing a person as they die. Addiction is a powerful thing, and sometimes he can't help himself from killing those he finds innocent, just so the rush can give him a sense of fulfillment. He finds purpose in it, like a doctor would find in saving the lives of others, Rory deems himself a force of righteousness that cleanses the word of those that poison it - or of those that get in the way, or are simply unlucky. Revenge is the word he uses, it's their own fault that he kills them. If only they were not so deceitful and disgusting, he may have allowed them to live.
He is without remorse, he doesn't feel guilt for his actions or what he had done, yet he'll have people believing differently. He's cruel, unemphatic, he doesn't care for other people and feels nothing when they beg for their lives. Rory follows plans, but he is impulsive, easily triggered into acting rashly be it through frustration or fear. The fears the control his life, his past the haunts him and takes over his body, it's to be said that his composure is far from being rock solid. Rory fears many things, and they can send him into shock, but nothing scares him more than a liar, ironically enough. He doesn't take kindly to being used, and uses his judgement to get rid of the people who do, or would, to end the lives of people that hurt and cause pain is his goal. This often doesn't go to plan as he's easily frustrated and can be sent into a frenzy, often taking the lives of many others during so. Even then, he does not apologize for what he has done, and feels no sadness for them. However, he will feel sadness for himself.
Despite all of this, he still desires that connection, that one can only make with another, but finds himself unable to create it. He's suspicious, paranoid, always trying to figure out the true motive of the actions of others. He second guesses other people, doubts them, and a single word can deem an innocent person guilty and warrant their execution. He doesn't allow himself to place his trust into people, at least, not so easily. When he does find someone he is fond of, he becomes possessive and obsessive over them. When getting his way, he can be a gentle lover, but if his attempt to control is rejected he often reacts with violence and isn't beyond killing them if he thinks they'll try and leave or have betrayed him. Rory is an unforgiving person, and doesn't let people live long enough for him to hold grudges against them.
Eighteen years later and he's still a child, hiding behind a withdrawn, quite facade is a monster that seeks revenge for all that went wrong in his life. A wrong move can turn him violent, wrathful. Another move might force his body to freeze with fear; few things may cause him to shake, cry and fall to pieces. He can be a cold killer or a loose cannon, far from being healthy and sound in mind. Lunacy describes Rory well, there is no logical reason behind his motives or actions, only deep scars and raw, unhinged emotions. In his core he only wishes to feel safe, happy, but everything about him acts against that. For when he might be on the verge of living decently he'll rip it all apart; leaving behind a number of bodies that will prevent him from ever reaching that foolish dream.
Likes:
♱ Fire. The sight of flames, sparks, smoke and embers - it's all too exciting.
♱ Scars. They tell the best stories, and none of them glorified lies.
♱ Humans. Without them his existence would be without meaning, he loves humans.
♱ Killing. Life is the most beautiful thing they know, how blessed is he to be able to take that away from those undeserving parasites.
♱ Classical music. It's a lot lovelier than the noise that clutters the air.
♱ Cookies. They are filled with good memories.
♱ Literature. Poems are his preference, especially those generations older than himself.
Dislikes:
♱ Meat. It isn't from adoration of animals, or loathing of industry. It's just the thought of ingesting flesh that makes him nauseous.
♱ Needles. They enter his skin and taint his mind, there is nothing to like.
♱ Humans. Without them his existence would be without pain, no, he hates humans.
♱ Ticking Clocks. They're simply annoying, even infuriating.
♱ Rain. How gross and depressing.
♱ Cigarettes. He's disgusted by them, the smoke they create is vile.
♱ Girls with Ginger Hair. There is a reason why he targets them so often.
Secrets:
♱ Isn't everything about Rory a secret? False words cover up the truth time and time again, he may start believing them himself.
Fears:
♱ Rory has an intense fear of drowning, and of water. He cannot swim, simply because being submerged in it causes him to panic so badly.
♱ The dead. They can rise, be it through zombification or becoming wandering spirits, the thought of seeing the faces of those no longer living petrifies him. Well, except for that one person...
♱ Humans. How nasty they are, all of them cunning liars, their only purpose must be to hurt him. Their only good for giving him reason to live - seeing revenge. He reminds himself that he cannot let them fool him again. He is better, stronger, and now he can hurt them before they hurt him.
♱ Lies. Misplacing his trust again, he only gets trapped in a state of misery and sorrow. Everyone is looked at with suspicion now, and when he is under the impression one is lying, it may be best to run.
♱ Needles. A needle by itself isn't scary and can even be useful, but when one is against him, threatening to enter his body, the only emotion he knows if fear.
History:
"For what I am about to do to you, I'm not sorry, and I never will be."
The house was in shambles, living on one of the lower levels had no chance at being pleasant. It was dirty, dangerous, and filled with people with souls made of hate and rage. His father's surname was Chamberlain, as was his. His mothers and his siblings all had different last names; Catherine Thorn was his mother, Isabella Yule, Ellen Moon, Grace Colton his sisters and Randall Pines, Rudy Pines, Lance Trevor his brothers. It was a home that was numbingly cold and blistering hot, the neglectful and hostile actions of caregivers shaped the children into little monsters or the living dead. Mother never smiled, she looked at people as if she was seeing through them, her eyes like glass and mind focused on a time when she was young and happy. Father couldn't spend a moment of his day sober, even existing was like walking on eggshells, as he temper could be activated like a switch. Conversations gone awry, glass being thrown and broken, children being bruised and beaten - it was an atmosphere made up of toxic gas and liquid nitrogen.
His siblings skin was colored black and blue, but Rory remained untouched, if only because he was the son of the one woman his father ever loved - Catherine, who also was exempted from this treatment. Instead he stood the shadows, alone in corners of the house or on streets outdoors, he covered his ears and eyes to shield himself from the sights and sounds of abuse, torture that only grew worse. His eldest siblings were just, they suffered untreated broken bones, burns and concussions, they wouldn't allow him to go unpunished, and decorated his body with cigarette burns every time they felt pain. Their justice only grew more twisted as they years past, it became customary to play hunting games, and when caught they would beat him, or drug him, stuff him in the heating oven, push his head under a bathtub full of water. This wouldn't go on for much longer though, for soon the four aged older than himself started to drop. Ellen Moon, she swallowed pills until her organs stopped operating. Randall Pines was beaten to death with a baseball bat, curtsey of their father. Grace Colton disappeared one day, only to be found twenty four hours later in a ditch with holes in her chest, bullets owned by their father. Lastly, Rudy Pines was drugged and put in the oven, the temperature set at it's highest by none other than Rory Chamberlain, it is unclear if he died from the gas or the heat.
Like father like son, perhaps it was inevitable that Rory would harbor a murderous soul as well. People were cruel, they threatened him with fire and water, they spun lies until they trapped him so they could attack with flames and asphyxiation. It wasn't until recently when he met someone who mimicked an angel, a girl with long, braided ginger hair and strange, lively gray eyes. Angie spoke such sweet words, her touch was gentle and her mind was expansive, creative and poetic. She showed him books, the written words that described such beauty and fantasy, he devoured the words she lent him and leaned on her as if she was crutch. Angie, she was going to take him away from this place, she was going to make him happy, different, normal and loved. She knew he was sick though, damaged beyond repair. However, she was lonely, and Rory was there and would follow her every word without question or hesitation. She would say how she couldn't love him, not until he made his mind sane, transformed the nightmares that plagued him into strengths he could rely on.
Soon, he was able to fulfill her wish. A voice spoke in his mind, a voice named Naberius, who offered him power in exchange for lives. Rory didn't lull in his decision, and the house that held a broken family burned with four inside it, the flames taking their lives. His father, who caused him and everyone nothing but pain and misfortune. His mother, who never lived in reality and ignored those around her. His youngest sister, who would have died in ways that mirrored Ellen Moon's end anyways. His younger brother, who was saved from the bleak world that awaited him. Suddenly fire wasn't his enemy, it was his friend, and he no longer shuttered when it came near, but welcomed it. His purpose was illuminated once he broke free from those chains, only Angie wasn't one to agree, and ran from the news that spilled happily from Rory's mouth. It was nothing short of betrayal, her words were lies and her smiles were forced, he decided he couldn't let her live. He followed her to her home, killing the parents she complained about so much in angry flames. He took the fire iron from her living room and heated it with only will, breaking her legs and burning her skin, until he stabbed her and burned her organs as well.
As a memento he took a small bone from one of her fingers, and continues to carry it around, his logic being that now she can never leave him. With no where else to go, Rory began to wander, spinning lies of his own, carrying on the legacy of those that died before him. He hides behind smiles and a vast vocabulary, acting as a wolf in sheep's clothing. He doesn't kill so quickly, but murders follow him wherever he goes, usually choosing people that he feels deserves it in one way or another. Girls with ginger hair though, it's hard for him to resist killing them, as he stages and reenacts Angie's death with them every time.
