Name: 'Famine' (He either does not know or will not reveal his real name).
It is possible that his true name, and other names, may be found in historical or magical texts, however, given the fame of his otherworldly position.
Gender: Male (As close as a demon can get to it anyways).
Age: Allegedly 273; is in fact far, far older but appears to be in his 20s.
Race: Demon/Wraith; embodiment of famine and starvation.
Role: Worker (Bartender).
Location: Unknown. All that is known is that at the beginning of the day there is screaming and he suddenly appears, mopping up blood and in a new shirt.
Orientation: Technically asexual as he lacks certain… appendages but considers himself straight (and a little old fashioned).
Status: Widower; claims otherwise.
Famine is intensely skinny, ribs clearly visible through even most of his shirts and with a build sometimes so slight one might expect him to keel over any minute. His height only accentuates how thin he is with his deathly pale complexion making him often look like a lanky skeleton. His face can often be gaunt but is not without its attraction; youthful and could even be considered handsome though his numerous, needle-like teeth are disconcerting to say the least. Famine's short black hair is messily spiked with some brand of demonic hair gel which smells suspiciously of blood but aside form this is devoid of hair bodily or otherwise, often wearing surprizingly contemporary clothes. He has dirty black cargo pants held up by a pair of white suspenders over a tight fitting, light grey T-shirt and an unbuttoned black sleeved shirt. Famine wears always cream coloured converses often splattered with blood and has close fitting leather braces on his forearms and covering the backs of his hands, small metal spikes scattered across them with his overall look somehow working.
Food and drink becomes stale or otherwise unwholesome in his presence. Food turns to ash and liquids evaporate upon touch with any living thing in the general vicinity feeling their hunger/thirst become suddenly ravenous (the latter being useful for creating customers). For this reason he wears a silver collar covered in runes which suppresses enough of these decaying effects make only touch destroy his drinks. Whilst normally his movements appear weak and his body fragile he is known to have sudden bursts of great agility and speed in battle as well as physical wounds being greeted with little more than annoyance. Famine also has a diffident Irish accent which often seems peculiar given his demonic nature. He has been known to be able to suck the life out of mortals by touch, reducing them to a shrivelled and emaciated state similar to his own.
Height: Roughly 6 feet 7 inches tall
Weight: 15 pounds (on a good day)
Eye colour: Completely white
Skin colour: Pale white
Hair colour: Black
Build: Emaciated
Note: Being simply the physical form of a wraith/demon he cannot die permanently or it is at the very least difficult to kill him so effectively and most wounds don't affect him as it would a mortal.
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Personality:
Physically Famine seems unfit to challenge a feather to a duel, generally resorting to violence only when absolutely necessary however he is very insulting towards others at any opportunity as long as it's funny. He tends to be less than cheerful in his encounters with others as well; somewhat bitter and pessimistic. In a strange way he is friendly, though, and as approachable as any bartender. He is slow to anger but once sufficiently annoyed as dangerous as any demon if in a somewhat wordier manner. When happy, however, he is exceedingly manic and energetic but this is a rare sight and he generally hides depression behind a veil of humour and smiles.
Famine has a tendency to be a smart ass and with justification, quite intelligent and usually funny if only to himself. If there is an opportunity to make a joke he will take it without exception whether it is appropriate or not for the situation. Most often his humour is dry and laconic or extravagant and long-winded but rarely at any preferable point between the two. Unfortunately he also happens to be a bit of a negative Nancy, always the first to point out a flaw in a plan or the worst part of a situation. Famine is a technical pacifist too, usually trying to find a non-violent way of solving his problems though the fact that he destroys all available food in the area by his presence doesn't exactly help win people over. For some reason he is fond of humans and appears to be less fond of himself due to his effect on them.
He is a close friend of Chandra and probably even older than she is but enjoys calling her an ‘old maid’ nonetheless, keeping his long crush on her a secret. He likes to come up with highly improbable, over complicated and generally ridiculous explanations for things for the fun of it. Famine's eyes also tend to twitch a lot when excited which can seem a little worrying at times.
Likes:
-Humans/mortals
-Music
-Working
-Moving/Doing Things
-Jokes
-Wit
-Pretzels (No one knows why)
-Rain
-Chandra
Dislikes:
-Fat People
-Other Demons
-Seeing People Eat Or Drink Around Him
-Death
-Himself
-Standing Still
-The English
-Disease
Hobbies:
-Playing The Harmonica
-Playing Guitar
-Writing
-Annoying People
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History:
Famine originally existed as a malevolent but natural wraith or even simply an idea, created from the first hunger pang ever experienced by a mortal. It was responsible for every great starvation in the history of mankind but was not given any physical form, nor in any sort of league with Hell, until the mid-18th century. He has never revealed the true details of the creation of this current form but the legend goes like this ((This is as much a Chandra would know; he has not confirmed it)):
There was a young poet (or entertainer, as the rumours go) living somewhere in Ireland around the 1700s married to beautiful woman he was deeply in love with. However she contracted wasting disease or other curse and, no matter how he cared for her, she soon died. His fellow people had not lifted a finger to prevent this, fearing they too would grow sickly, and so he washed his hand of humanity. The man became a hermit, refusing to eat or sleep and his only words were to curse mankind. In 1739 the man was dying of starvation alone in a dank, dark cave where no one knew nor cared of his suffering. His final wish was that all those of the living world that had scorned him (and his wife) and left him to this fate would know his pain. He died in such intense, agonising hunger that this last request was to be granted.
His shrivelled, emaciated corpse turned to ash and was picked up by a cold wind that blew across Ireland and then Europe where it mingled with Famine. This began a terrible curse of starvation that would become the 'Irish Famine', the hunger of so many people causing the ash to reform again to create the embodiment of deprivation and hunger. In a fury at his new plight and the wrongs against him Famine let the humans of Europe know nothing of prosperity but instead pain for several years until Satan called him to the depths of hell. Whilst the former story may well be fiction it is certain he was hired as the replacement to one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse but, there being no such doomsdays in need of kickstarting, was left to torment sinners and the living.
After a couple of centuries Famine began to tire of this, not fond of it in the beginning but now loathing the whole job description. His rage against humanity had been expended and now would occasionally walk amongst the humans, normally being quickly ostracised but pursuing social interaction nonetheless. He soon met Chandra Lethera whom, at the time, had only just begun to think about making the club. He would eventually gain an enchanted collar with which to control his effects and was discovered to be very good at mixing drinks. He became a bartender at The Dungeon once it was constructed, it not known whether or not he still resides in hell or works there anymore.
((If you want the true details of his history, nature,, etc. Either question him in the IC or ask me.))