Description
I do not own this picture. psychokittyannie of Deviant art created the original picture and I erased teh wing on the pictureName: Parson Lessard
Age: 10
Birthday: August 31
Turned: September 22
Species: Vampire
Parson suffers from severe Dyslexia and discalculia. this means moth letters and numbers have a tendency to shift on him and all efforts fo reading and math have failed.
Personality
Slightly sociopathic, but not much, so it's okay.
He fears frogs and insects, considering both disgusting animals. He also believes that the stray dog population would be dramatically decreased if he was simply allowed to practice his hobby of dissection on the animals.
Drinking from Maleficus' blood, Parson has obtained 'Corruption's Blessing/Curse'. Because of it, there is a connection between him and Maleficus. This bond, although weak, is both physical and mental and will develop within the passing days.
Stage 1 - In stage one, the blessing is only working it's way into the target's constitution, intertwining itself into their very DNA. Depending on the individual, side effects may occur slower or quicker than with others. Side effects include...
-Nightmares depicting horrific scenes and events with perfect clarity as if one is actually there.
-Violent hallucinations.
-Heightened sensitivity to the arcane.
-A gained sense of Maleficus' presence and energies.
-Slightly Heightened speed.
-Slightly Heightened healing factor.
-Lv.1 Craving for Maleficus' blood.{ Ex. A child wanting candy}
-Increased hostility.{ More violent in nature. Status:Mild}
-Periodic excruciating pains. {Extreme Migraines, Intense stomach and chest pains.}
Equipment
Touch of fatigue
A necromantic cantrip, this fledgling necormancer’s one ability is to simply remove a small amount oflife energy from an animal or person, and to cause them to be slightly more tired. This lasts for three rounds.
Necromancer's Knife
Stolen from his mother, this knife has the ability to dehydrate if left inside of flesh for very long.
Cheap Red Lighter
Given to him for his protection, Parson has the ability to summon his mother's hellbeast Scamp by flicking this on.
Parson has a very curious hobby of animal dissection. As such, he keeps a dissection kit in a black doctor's bag, along with a few extras.
Dissection kit:
Surgical scissors, iris scissors, tissue forceps, scalpel handle,
scalpel blades, probe with angled tip, dissection needles, dropping pipette,
dissecting pins, rigid metal ruler, and case.
Fine Bone Saw
Razor Blade
History
It didn't take long for Parson's first family, his birth family, to realize something was wrong with their boy. No matter how they disciplined him, he seemed hell bent on being cruel to everyone about him. A bully and a brat all in one, Parson could not have told you much about his family, other than he hated them.
So he took care of them, as they slept. The actions could have landed the young boy in jail, for murdering his parents and his baby sister. But he ran away after the crime, taking to the streets with ease. It wasn't long until he ended up with a favorite haunt of sort. Gambit's Bar was dangerous, horrifying, and all around exactly what he needed.
There he met, and began to torture and torment, the girl who would be his new sister. It didn't take long after meeting the small twisted girl for him to meet Sanina, who would be his new mother. His new mother who was clearly no more in her right mind than the rest of the small family, as she carried around the skeletal remains of a young girl, whom she called Jezebell.
Parson, who could barely read, and was often a crude young boy, turned out to have necromantic powers, that his new mother 'Nina' began to teach him. He even slowly began to accept his sister Bethany, though he would never be nice to her, he would be nicer. It was to his advantage to be nice to his family after all, even if both sister and mother were touched.
What many do not realize about Parson is that he positively loathes his Aunt Kaitlynn. Not only does she think him weird at best, she also shows quite a bit of favoritism to his sister Bethany, at lest in his eyes. With this laothing between them, it only made sense that, on a day when his aunt wasn’t quite herself, she turned Parson into a vampire.
So begins...
The day was wet, damp, and miserable; not exactly your typical summer weather for the area. It had been raining on and off all day, and the entire city was soaked through, with storm drains overflowing into large puddles in the street. Soon a young girl, in her mid teens came by and sat next to Parson. Dressed in polkadot rainboots and a clear slicker over her clothes, she peered over at him for a second. "Hmm.." She started to say thoughtfully. "I know him, why are you looking for Mr. Hammerstein?" She asked politely.
The boy was certainly not dressed for the rain. He looked to the girl and frowned. "You do?" That was lucky. Maybe he was famous or something. "Um...Catherine..Dumitrescu..." He though that was how it was pronounced. "told me I might be able to figure out what happened, if I learned more about him." And he would like that. "I lost a lot of memory. I saw her in Gambit's, and she said it might help."
"Mhm. He's Ms. Catherine's nephew, or at least she was introduced as his aunt..." Laura said trying to figure out where she had seen this boy before. "Oh did you? That mean's she's finally back!" She was referring to Catherine's sudden absence, and lack of contact with anyone, with the exception of a few letters or the occasional gift on a birthday. Laura had really taken a liking to both of them, feeling somehow with all of this strange stuff that had happened, they were both on her side in the end. "So what'dya want to know? Oh I'm Laura by the way." She said sticking out her hand.
The boy shook her hand. "I'm Parson. And...I guess who he is?" He shrugged. "Where to find him, maybe. I'm not sure. I can't remember anything, even what year it is. She seemed...surprised by how old I said I was." And his size, though only just. It was weird.
"Mm.. it's hard to say exactly who Mr. Hammerstein is. I mean he ran this really awesome art store until he disappeared." She answered. "Huh. It's hard to get the jump on Ms. Catherine, she's pretty low key." Laura continued. "Come to think of it you look an awful lot like pictures I saw once of Mr. Hammerstein as a kid." She was pretty sure there was something weird going on here, but what she didn't know. She didn't have the experience to tell her. "I mean I think there's something weird going on here with you..."
Parson frowned. "There's not a lot of people who look like me." He pointed out. "All my male relatives are dead, you know." Very dead. He considered it and sighed. "Running an art store sounds pretty cool. And I think there is too. I should remember things past what I do, and what I do remember I should remember better." But he didn't.
"Cursed?" That might be right. "Alright. A curse." He thought it over. "...Can you tell me anything else about Brandon Hammerstine." Back and forth. He hoped for more info. "Or maybe show me...one fo te pictures?" That could be nice. Maybe he could see the differences then.
The worst kind? "...he does necromancy?" He said quietly, then nodded. "I...alright. I'll see you later." There weren't a lot of necromancers in Wing City. At all. It was very illegal after all, and other than his family, he could only think of perhaps one other he had encountered who had been open about his craft. "Bye." Laura. She was nice. And this other necromancer looked like him? It couldn't be a blood relative. His father hadn't been related to anyone yougner than Catherine, he was pretty sure. But if Parson was under a curse, and this guy looked like him and sounded like him...Was Parson him? or he Parson?
Parson had been upstairs in the hotel areas, staying in his old room, having discovered it was emptied out of everything. It was all very weird. Still, until he figured things out, he was drinking his blood in the bar, though he found himself oddly hungry regardless. In a way he only vaguely recognized. What was going on?
The boy ordered at the bar before he looked around. Catherine? Perhaps his luck was holding out. The child walked over to her and bit his bottom lip. "Can I join you?"
He took a seat and looked at his drink. "...I've been thinking it over. I don't think...I don't think I'm supposed to look like this anymore." He didn't understand why, but he felt that way. "I met a lady named Laura, last night. She told me some about Brandon. He owns an art shop and has pictures...some look like me." He bit his bottom lip. "I...don't have any family left. Not blood related." Just his sire and all, but not humans, like he had been. "Do you...do you think that he could help?"
He paused. "I was...destroyed?" But how could that be when he was right there. "And brought back. As...as my old name." Before. "Hammerstine. But no one knew that was my name." He said quietly. "No one. Everyone died." It was easier to think, he realized, much easier. It used to be harder to think so clearly and calmly.
"How do you break a curse?"
The child considered things. " I was important to you, somehow, wasn't I?" It seemed it at least. The child bit his bottom lip and then shook his head. "And if I'm not...an everchild, then I can eat real food. That explains the hunger."
He hesitated, then pushed the blood away, not wanting it, in particular. "Okay." He said "Okay." This was a bit overwhelming. "I'm Brandon then, and an adult. I even have an art shop." And that was pretty awesome, if he thought about it. "But, someone cursed me. And I really want to go back to being Brandon, and not Parson, but I don't know how. You're...smart. And you like me. So can you help, somehow? I don't know how to lift a curse."
"Hysop, rue, and salt." He said quietly. "And...I guess if we go to my shop, we might figure that out. If I was fooling around with magic, I would have taken notes." He was extremely meticulous at his current seeming age. He suspected it was the same when he was older. "If I planned something, I would have written it down."
Parson was peering into the store window, admiring the large canvas in it, and the stand on which it sat. The large selection of paints had caught his attention as well and he wondered about them. Did he paint? Before the curse? Maybe. Right now, everything was slightly dusty, the place was locked, and the people next door said Brandon hadn't been in to open up in almost two weeks. That was a bit startling, but lined up with his expectations.
"So much for being a neat freak..." Catherine mumbled as she looked through the store. She just so happened to have been given a key when she first arrived in the area. Brandon had said it was just in case she needed a job, and he could always use the extra help. "Now let's see what you did to get yourself into this predicament..." She said to herself as she took stock of the contents of the store. Granted she could always decide to read any trace magic that lingered, knowing full well how much he loved to mess with things beyond the scope of his capabilities; but she didn't today. Spying Parson peering in the front, she saw that he had been smart enough to get this far in his own investigation. With the rattle of keys against metal and glass, Catherine unlocked the front door. "Don't drool on the glass, it's a pain to clean up."
"It's drool." He said and entered int he open door. "You just wipe it off with a paper towel." The boy shrugged and looked around. "So, I own this place or something? It doesn't look bad." At all. He shrugged. "And I know I'm a good business man." So he had that going for him.
"Did I live upstairs?" He bet he did. The boy made a bee line for the stairs, more than intent on what was behind his own front door. Curious, he turned the knob and it unlocked. "Man I'm an idiot when I'm grown up."
She eyed him for a minute considering her response, "Well I'm not the grubby little boy who just spent fifteen minutes making nose prints, and hand prints all over the glass. Be lucky I don't make you clean it." Catherine grumbled as he raced past her. "No running!" She had not signed up for babysitting all over again. "Bloody hell... I don't have the patience for this!" She said to herself once he was out of sight. Locking the door behind them, she followed him upstairs to the living quarters. "Not an idiot, I would say preoccupied." She commented giving the small apartment a quick look over before entering. "So tell me Mr. Lessard, what have you managed to glean from your little incident so far?"
"That you're a stuffy old lady." Was his first response. "And that Adult me is stupid." That was it so far, but as he poked around his own place, looking for something that looked like it had been disturbed, or it might be out of place, he frowned. "I think I must have realized something was wrong. The door was shut, but not well, and it wasn't locked. Maybe I was going for help." Which meant there may or may not be trail in the place.
The boy considered thing and looked around, poking in and out. At least he had kept his tidy ways. He slipped into the kitchen and frowned at the open box on the table. Everything else in the place was shut. The fact that this was open bothered him greatly. "Aunt Catherine, does this count as weird?" Aunt? Where did that come from. She was just a stuffy old lady. His adult self knew her, not him.
RPG
