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Bryce Faust

A young man engulfed in the dark arts due to his fascination with death, and how to overcome it...

0 · 117 views · located in Wing City

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Vyral

Description

Name: Bryce Faust
Age: 29
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Class: Necromancer[/size]

Height: 5"10
Weight: 11 stone
Description: Bryce was once a handsome, if typical, young man. Tall, well-built and healthy. Auburn ringlets were kept just long enough to cover the tips of his ears and to dust the tip of his brow, with Bryce himself favoring the 'just out of bed look' that became so popular during his youth. The darkness of his hair made a stark contrast to the clear, crisp blue of his eyes. Years spent meddling with death have withered Bryce, however; thought still physically healthy his kin has a pallid, gaunt appearance to it that makes him look sickly, as though just recovering flu. Thick, curly stubble covers his face, a sign that personal appearance has long ceased to matter to Bryce. Where once Bryce had youthful skin he now has the wrinkles of worry and age. Scars, most self-inflicted, mar his flesh and his wrists have become an abhorrent myriad of gossamer white scars.

Once a confident, composed individual Bryce now moves much slower. He is weary. The weight of his sorrows bears down on him so strongly that it has affected him physically; his posture is sloppy, and he no longer moves with the haste of someone who is living. He dresses well, if only to pass through crowds unnoticed, simply a poorly-looking man shambling through the streets, no different from a dozen other confused souls. Bryce has become a quiet man; withdrawn, apathetic except to his own desires. He has no craving for company, for familiarity of relationships. His mind, still sharp and intelligent focuses only on his carnal desires; at great cost to his soul, he feverishly hunts down the knowledge he needs. He has hurt others. It is a thing he does with growing frequency; with growing barbarism and indifference - only to recall their faces every night when he tries to sleep. Somewhere along the line Bryce slipped into a haze somewhere between being alive and being dead. Every day brings him one step closer to loosing everything he was, and it is in the darkest shades of the night, when he is truly alone that he reflects on how the cost is becoming too great. That even if he succeeds, nothing can be the same again. That his family will no longer love him; that they are better of dead. It consumes him though, this grief; this longing. He has slipped into a drinking habit that is spiraling out of control as fast as his life has. Swimming in a mire of his own filth, both physical and mental, Bryce is a broken man.[/size]

History

Will update soon...

So begins...

Bryce Faust's Story

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#, as written by Vyral
Pausing in the dark, Bryce took a final drag on the cigarette placed precariously between two pursed lips and then tossed it into the damp earth. Swathed in dark robes he made his way along the path of the graveyard, following its winding route between grave after grave. He could feel the bones lingering beneath the earth, there presence tugging at him with their preternatural maws. Behind him he dragged a spade, its metal head grating loudly against the asphalt.

He had heard there was a fresh mass grave in the area - something he could use. Tongue flicking across his lips, he stopped when he came across the spot. The smell of fresh earth was strong, and the gravestone was still unspoiled by the elements.

He took a moment to savour the moment, before plunging the spade into the ground.

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Bryce spun around at the sudden voice; the intrusion to his privacy was unwelcome and his eyes flared as he set them upon the woman, bright cerulean blue swirling incandescently. Whoever she was, she looked frail and girlish. He turned back towards the grave before he spoke, sifting through another layer of dirt. Already he had made a sizable dent into the fresh mound heaped over the grave.

Before he spoke, he took a few seconds to glance at the gravestone towering out of the ground. [i]"Here lay Angelina, Corey and Peter, may they rest in peace." He snorted gently.

"The dead are dead. I doubt they care what happens to their bodies."

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Even though her fingers never touched the loose material of his robing, he paused his digging anyway. He turned his head slightly at the mention of their loved ones; something misted behind his eyes. He didn't speak while she ranted on, voice growing ever more hysterical. He allowed the spade to drop to the ground, the hefty shaft making a dull thud as the end collided with the asphalt pathway.

"I can assure you that they are definitely not here."

His eyes flicked around the graveyard almost as frantically as Whisper's, and whatever he saw his faced showed disdain for it. He grunted loudly, now facing the girl completely. Her hair was shimmering in the sporadic bursts of moonlight, and it made her look even more insane.

"I imagine the person who killed them," he jerked a pale thumb at the grave, "would be the one responsible for whatever they would be moaning about. But, like I said - they aren't here."

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Incredulous, he listened to the young woman as she deteriorated rapidly. Her hands were pressed manically to the side of her head, bunching her pale hair and her eyes were pressed tightly shut. When she finally looked at him, he saw nothing that comforted him; the girl was insane. Patience running direly low, Brynce was about to take a step forwards and push her away when she spun around.

Following her gaze, he too set his eyes upon Maria. The young woman was standing some way off, still masked behind a veil of thin shadows, a thick tree towering over the edge of the path blocking out the sparse moonlight. He squinted slightly, almost sure there was something lingering behind the girl.

"She's not dead." His voice was laced with thick, unhidden impatience. A graveyard. He was in a graveyard and still people bothered him!

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Perturbed, he moved his arm away from the searching grasp of her fingers. She had a strange 'deer-in-the-headlights' look on her face, and her eyes were wide and staring. An unnerving feeling was spreading through him that the girl wasn't actually looking at him.

"Who is that?" He was getting annoyed now, and already he was fantasizing about tossing the girl over his shoulder and cutting her up in some dingy basement. He wouldn't, but the idea wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"Find who?"

He had switched his eyes back to looking at Maria. He could see the glowing stub of a cigarette in the darkness, pinpointing her exact position through the gloom. He glanced back at Whisper, irritation evident on his face.

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Empathy was something that Bryce lacked, and so his impatience only grew as the woman became ever more vulnerable. She was flitting back and forth between topics faster than he could keep up, frantically searching with her eyes. He decided to ignore her initial question; there was no need to reveal more about himself than was absolutely necessary to make the woman leave him alone.

"I know why I'm here." The half-emptied grave stood plainly beside him, the head of the spade buried in the mud. "Why you are here, I don't know, nor care."

He turned away from the woman again, and bent down to grab the shaft of the spade in both hands. He resumed his digging, channeling his irritation into throwing huge piles of dirt across the path.

"You people..." he muttered beneath his breath. At that moment there was a hollow bang as the bottom of the spade sunk into the ground.

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Bryce was trying his hardest to ignore the rambling woman behind him, instead he was finishing shoveling the dirt from the now semi-exposed coffin. Vaguely he wondered at the shallowness of the grave; usually they were much deeper. At that point, Whisper jumped forwards and grabbed the shaft of the spade in both hands.

Despite being a strong man, he was unable to pull the spade back out of the ladies frantic grasp. Face far from a display of amusement, he relaxed his grip on the spade, but kept one hand wrapped around the cool wood.

"Why not?"

The question was laced with acidic frustration, and he was in no mood for.. whatever this was. The girl was completely insane, and she was wasting his time.

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Having released his grasp on the spade, Bryce stood before the young girl as she shoveled the dirt back into the grave with a distressing fervor. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but his irritation was steadily being replaced by an incredulous surprise, and the vague feeling that this was some sort of hoax.

"I really don't-"

At that point, a sleek feline came careering towards them both. It slid to a halt and rose on its hackles, staring at the two of them with predatory aggression. Once again, irritation became the dominant emotion.

"Fuck off!" he shouted, flapping a hand at the creature. Rather suddenly, murder seemed a much more viable option.

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Bryce took the shovel in one hand, and then discarded it almost immediately, letting it fall down onto the hastily re-filled grave. He kept his eyes narrowed on the feline, which was growing steadily more furious. Whisper began walking forwards, one hand outstretched towards the hissing creature.

Instinctively he stepped between them both, putting his body between Whisper and the feline. He left his left hand feel his side innocuously, fingers brushing against the hilt of his ceremonial dagger. It's presence held a reassuring weight, and he was ready to use it in a flash.

He took another step towards the creature, eyes now moving towards Maria. The young girl had chased down her pet, and was heaving it by the tail.

"I suggest you leave."

The words were said with deliberate sharpness, and his fingers still stroked the length of this dagger with unconcealed care. Clearly, it was a prized possession.

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"I'm sorry?"

Bryce could barely believe the situation he had been placed in. It was the dead of night, in a dingy graveyard, and two young women had decided to play mightier-than-though with him. Reflexively, his hand clasped around the hilt of his dagger, though he didn't draw the weapon.

"Listen. I'm in no mood to play games with some socially defuct teenager, so politely fuck off before I slit your throat. Alright?"

Undoubtedly, it was the longest sentence the black magician had said in months. Every syllable was pronounced with a thick, deliberate sharpness, and with every scrap or seriousness embedded into it. He slid the dagger half an inch out of its scabbard, making sure an easy draw would be assured.

"Well?"

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Still clutching the hilt of his dagger, Bryce had been about to step forwards and strike the woman with his free hand when she finally turned and began to leave. Relaxing visibly, he slid his blade back into its sheath and began to turn back towards the other problem. If he could get rid of her then he could-

"Stay where you are! This is the Wing City Police Department!"

Those were definitely not the words a shady Necromancer, with a spade, in a graveyard wanted to hear on a cold night. He let out a loud sigh. The young woman beside him was rambling still, seemingly aware of what happened around her but far from lucid enough to deal with it. Bryce bit his lip, torn between a dangerous urge to mutilate the next person to speak, and a protectiveness over the slightly scatty young woman. She reminded him of his daughter...

Deciding to stay where he was until the source of the voice made herself - he was sure it was a female voice - known, Bryce pulled his robe back over his dagger. Best not to worry the police until absolutely necessary...

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Character Portrait: Bryce Faust

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If he hadn't of been such an introverted freak, Bryce might have capitalized on Whisper's obvious... issues, and gotten himself out of the thick pile of shit he had dropped himself in. As it was, he spent a few moments of long silence staring at the red-head.

"Damn..."

Hardly the most eloquent of expressions, it was followed by another period of awkward silence in which Whisper helpfully singled him out with an accusing wag of her finger. He could try and talk his way out of it, but the woman might not listen unless he went with her? And killing her... it was an option, but then he'd have the entire WCPD after him.

"I can't do that."

He stayed his ground, flicking his gaze between the scatty young girl beside him, and the clearly irritated officer. He had a sinking feeling that any bodies he took home tonight would be a lot fresher than he had originally intended...

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Character Portrait: Bryce Faust

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Almost starting when she laid a hand against his arm, Bryce turned his head to look at the young girl. Her frenzied mumblings had begun to abate, and now she looked distant. He held back an irritable retort, and turned instead back towards the officer. He was aware of the other girl standing beside her feline, but doubted that she would be much threat if everything kicked off. He spoke in hushed tones to Whisper, though he had little doubt that the Officer would overhear snippets.

"I'm not being arrested. If you wanna come with me, come." The second longest sentence of the day, almost. Bryce was already beginning to loathe his decision to visit the graveyard, when he could have spent the night studying.

"Don't stop us when we leave," he said loud enough for Cally to hear him. "I don't want to hurt you for doing your job.." he trailed off, staring at the young Officer with a furrowed brow for a long moment. Then, with deliberate caution he began taking steps backwards, moving down the path. He kept his gaze on the Officer - what the others did was their business. There was no chance he was being arrested - if they searched his house... No, best not to be arrested.

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Character Portrait: Bryce Faust

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The fact that the odd young woman had decided to follow him was going to complicate matters. Now he couldn't just run, and try and loose the Officer. He was inclined, for principles sake, to help a woman to whom he had offered a chance of escape. He cursed beneath his breath.

The officer had also begun to approach him, taking confident steps with every heated syllable. Threatening an officer? Now he really couldn't go with her. That sort of charge made things serious, and definitely warranted searching his residences. This was getting complicated quickly.

He was all to aware of the weight of his Bolt Gun fastened on his left forearm. He didn't want to have to use it, but if the officer kept approaching he would have no choice. He decided almost unconsciously that he would aim for her leg. Assaulting an officer was better than murdering. Adjusting his left hand, he reading his fingers to let off a shot. He had little doubt that six inch of sharpened steel would provide him a chance of escape...

"Yeah, I'll help you find them." He turned his attention back to Cally. "Back off..."

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Character Portrait: Bryce Faust

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When Whisper turned and began to run away, Bryce almost found himself reaching out to stop her. Fortunately (in his own mind, at least) he managed to stop himself. He watched her for a few moments, still a little bemused by the odd lady. Promptly, he turned his attention back towards the officer. She had slid one hand towards her pistol, the small weapon holstered at her hip. He had no doubt he could get a shot off before she drew the weapon, but one shot was all he had. If he didn't go for the kill, he would risk being shot himself.

Unconsciously, he began muttering beneath his breath. Already he could feel a tingling sensation running up his arms and spreading through his chest. With luck, the woman would chase the other girl. If not.. he would have to take matters into his own hands, one way or another.

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Character Portrait: Bryce Faust

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When the young Officer darted towards him, he decided that trying to get a shot off quickly wasn't going to help matters. Instead he muttered a final word to complete his monologue. He was vaguely aware of Whisper dissipating into the distance, her shimmering effervescent form obscured behind a layer of large gravestones and oppressive darkness.

As Cally pulled back her arm to throw a punch, the area immediately surrounding them - roughly ten meters - fell into impenetrable darkness. Even Bryce felt the shivers go up his spine when confronted with such oblique shadow - despite being able to 'see' - but he had no time to waste. He turned to run, but Cally's fist glanced across his side and sent him stumbling off balance.

He managed to catch himself on a nearby gravestone, and then broke out into a full-flight sprint. A young, and physically fit young man, he accelerated with surprising speed for what appeared to be a sickly being, and he headed straight for the copse of trees in the distance...

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Much to his chagrin, Bryce found himself thrown off-balance as a ball struck his back and burst into flames. He hit the ground at an off-kilter roll, and while the damp mud extinguished the flames his attempt at a sudden flight had been ruined. Scrambling into a crouch, Bryce ducked behind a gravestone and took a moment to regain his breath. Fortunately, the thick leather padding he wore had prevented him being burnt, but he had still had the wind knocked out of him.

He had underestimated the woman. The smell of smoldering cloth was a clear indication that he should definitely not make the same mistake twice.

From his position behind the gravestone - which he hoped would provide adequate cover from both her eyes, and her gun - he began to mutter again. The contorted words came out thick and fast, well-practiced and accurate. He had no idea if the woman had seen where he was, or if she was still fumbling around in the dark. With luck, he'd have plenty of time before she made it to him...

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Character Portrait: Bryce Faust

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He heard her voice ringing out through the graveyard, and felt a flood of relief at the fact that she didn't appear to know where he was hiding. Unfortunately, he still couldn't run - no doubt she would shoot him down without hesitation now.

He completed his muttering promptly, and felt the tangible, yet invisible, stream of energy flow from him to the young woman. The Lifeforce Tap was something he was rarely forced to use, but it was all he could think of using to tire out his pursuer without killing her. It would take some time for her to loose consciousness, but she would feel a slight draining already.

All he had to do was stay hidden until then. Breathing heavily still, Bryce didn't dare risk a peek over the top of the gravestone.

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Character Portrait: Bryce Faust

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Bryce heard, but he still had no intention of turning himself in. All he needed was time - albeit, more than he likely had. He had no idea of the response times for an Officer in need, but he expected it was quick enough to cause him problems.

He could sense his Wyrn approaching, but the infernal creature was taking its time in getting to the graveyard. He had had to leave his minion outside of the area, or else risk it being seen by some passer-by.

That meant he had two immediate problems: A feisty, gone-toting red-head, and all he rapidly approaching friends. He had little choice but to organize his own backup. Drawing on the stolen energy he had obtained, Bryce sought out three nearby corpses and set about resurrecting them. It was a relatively simple process to reanimate dead flesh, provided you didn't need it to be intelligent. Already the decaying foot-soldiers were digging out of the ground around him, bloodthirsty and eager to tear into a juicy red-head.

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He supposed that now was make or break time. The Tap on the Officer would be now be causing some severe signs of fatigue, and obliterating the undead cohorts would prove more difficult than she would be used too. He was - sort of - confident that getting an accurate shot off would be difficult too.

Taking a deep breath, Bryce stood up and started sprinting towards an open section of the graveyard, with a few marked but un-used plots. He could hear the strong beat of the Wyrn's wings in the skies above. Provided nothing got in his way before he reached that spot, he could fly off. Literally.

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Fortunately for Bryce, the half-accurate shots managed to spatter the ground around him but failed to turn him into a walking slice of swiss cheese. On the other hand, Bryce was now out of range to maintain either the remaining zombies, or his drain on Cally. She would find her energy restored slowly, and he was glad. He had no wish to kill anyone tonight. Besides, the red-head had been pretty.

The Wyrn plummeted out of the skies and thundered into the ground before him, sending mud showering into the air. The large, decaying construct resembled the mythical dragon, though it lacked the ability to breath fire. Bryce took a flying leap at the same time that a third bullet managed to tear into his right shoulder. The shot tossed him sideways, but one hand still slid between the creatures exposed ribcage. Hanging precariously, Bryce let out a loud shout as the Wyrn took off.

He sure as shit hoped the Officer's friends couldn't fly.

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Luckily, the twisted beast on which Bryce rode was not just a fancy animation. The creature had - for better or worse, mostly worse - been fully drawn into the world, as a living creature. It harked its hatred at the Witch's attempts to interfere with it, but maintained a course straight up into the skies, out of the range of the Officer's pistols.

Bleeding heavily from his shoulder, Bryce was all to aware that he had to get back to his apartment pronto. Once there he had a few... ways... from which he could extract the energy necessary to heal himself.

He cast a glance over his shoulder at the ground, but was unable to make much out besides the flashing lights and the steadily dwindling people on the ground below. Vaguely, he felt a sting of guilt. What a rotten mess he had caused.

The setting changes from wing-city to Dark Woods

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Character Portrait: Bryce Faust

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The sound of flowing water was a comfort to his ears in the darkness of the woods, what little light there was blocked by the thick expanse of leaves above. The grass was still damp from an earlier downpour, and now it glistened emerald green whenever a ray of light slipped through the canopy. An outcropping of dull grey rock sat above one section of the river, where the water meandered off to the left and into the true depths of the wood.

Upon this rock sat a skinny, pale man. Beside him lay a discarded swath of black robing, and now he wore only loose trousers and a sleeveless shirt that did little to protect him from the cool night air. Eyes focused on the swirling waters below, he clutched something in his hand and seemed oblivious to the animals that lingered in the bushes beyond his sight.

Somewhere, an owl let out a bellow and took off into the skies above, great wings beating a steady rhythm that mingled with the crash of the river below.

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Character Portrait: Bryce Faust

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Clutching the necklace tightly in one skinny hand, he had barely noticed Whisper break through the treeline beside him. Silently he was watching his reflection in the water, a gaunt face etched with anxiety staring back at him coldly. In an instant the water tore apart the image, and again he was just leering at stones in the water. It was only then that he became aware of the woman standing there watching him, white hair gleaming in the gloom of the Woods. He turned to look at her while she spoke, a curious detachment on his face. Cerulean eyes glinting, he remained silent for a long time.

"Are you following me?"

He remembered the woman from the graveyard. The memories were fuzzy in his mind - he had been in a terrible mood that day, to go digging up bodies. And bodies of that family... and then she had shown up, a perfect reflection of the chaos within his own mind. His shoulder was still wrapped in gauze were he had been shot, and the joint felt stiff when he tried to move it. Now, she was back again.

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Bryce watched the girl approach much as he had watched the animals circling him behind the cover of the trees, as though he were looking through them rather than at them. The girl had an unusual look of bemusement on her face that did not fit with his memory of her. She had been... he shook his head, more out of the difficulty of concentrating than memory.

"That from an insane woman?"

The retort was hollow; empty of conviction or feeling. He watched the girl flit away again without moving his head at all as she danced out of his vision.