⌈Name⌋
Tom Roach

⌈Age⌋
Visual Age:
40

Factual Age:
30

⌈Appearance⌋
Hair: Black hair Buzzed short to a stubble
Facial Hair: A seemingly permanent five o clock shadow
Eyes: Deep Blue
Build: Extremely fit but not 'large' by any means
Skin Tone: Very pale
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 180 pounds
Voice: Precise and rather deep
Handed: Right handed
Body Markings:  None
Scar Tissue: None
Unique Body Features: An extremely "aged" face, wrinkled and worn far more then someone his age should be. Normally only seen in street clothes, which is a tight black priest garment.

Running into Tom on the street you would most likely see a rather timid looking man, his features rather aged and worn but his body itself still in good shape. Aside from his wrinkling face and shaved head his most catching feature is his piercing blue eyes. His usual street attire is that of most priests, a mostly slim black attire with a white priest collar around his neck.

⌈Sexuality⌋
Straight/Celibate

⌈Personality⌋
Motivation:  His main motivation is what he honestly believes to be "Gods Will"
Fears:  His main fear is that he is, in fact, crazy. Amusingly he also has severe arachnophobia
Goals: To tend to his "flock" and try and change his community for the better
Positive Traits: Kind+Brave+Honest
Negative Traits: Judgmental-crazy/dillusional-Patronizing-Alchoholic

Tom is very serious and judgmental but at the same time genuinely caring towards any and everyone who seeks his council. Tom cant remember when God started speaking to him or when his powers first manifested, his mind having trouble remembering things of that sort. He was fairly certain it began in seminary school and yet, like most things, whenever he tried to actually think of the memory it just seemed blocked-something that seemed to be happening more and more these days. He even seemed to have trouble remembering just how he had come to live in the city, some days he remembered it as a punishment doled out by the higher ups in his church, other days he’d swear he requested being transferred into the inner city he now found himself residing in, and on the worst days he'd remember it as his first assignment as a priest-although one look in a mirror made him sure that he was in fact a priest with many years under his belt. 

As clouded as his mind had become over the past few years whenever he put on a mask everything seemed crystal clear, almost like he was a different person. Another thing he had no problem remembering was just how crime riddled and sinful his city, and country, had become. He wasn’t sure if he remembered the fact because of the horrible news he'd watch most nights or the many members of his congregation that would confide in him about family problems-often drug or crime related-or just the violations they felt of crimes inflicted upon them, some days listening to his jaded church members Tom was certain that had to be where The Preacher had come from. 

The Preacher, the other side of Tom he was both proud and horrified of, had become infamous years ago among the men and women who made sinful pursuits their 'careers'. As far as Tom knew The Preacher was, for the most part, a completely different person then he was. Merciless, cunning, a predator of the night. All these things were used to describe the vigilante known as Preacher, and all these things Tom knew didn’t apply to him at all.


⌈Likes⌋
-Reading
-Church
-People
-Cooking
-Alchohol

⌈Dislikes⌋
-What society has become
-Drugs
-Violence
-Loud music
-Preacher

⌈Relationships⌋
Tom has no “friends” or “relationships” save for his church goers that he attends to every weekend and in private. His “Flock” as he likes to refer to them is for the most part his only one on one contact with people.

⌈Power⌋
Preacher has a glowing white bright hand that he refers to as “The hand of God.”. Aside from a well toned body and an extremely good reflexes the only real power Preacher has is his right fist that seemingly possess super human strength. Another odd trait his glowing hand posses's is the ability that when clutching the skull of another he can will them to see and live all the pain they have caused to others throughout their entire life. 

⌈Equipment⌋
None

⌈Strengths⌋
-Speech
-Hand to hand combat
-Memory (as Preacher)
-Detective skills (as Preacher)
-Fearless (Preacher)

⌈Weaknesses⌋
-Most things people are weak to save for his right hand (Fire, bullets, ect).
-Memory (As Tom).
-Identity confusion.
-Alchohol (Tom).
-Horrible Driver

⌈Home⌋
Tom lives in an extremely small room attached to the run down church he preaches at with little more than a bed, a dresser, and a bookcase. He makes due with the small church stipend he is given each month.

⌈History⌋
These years Tom doesn’t remember many things, like when or how his power manifested, or where his costume came from, or even most years of his life that have brought him to his day to day life. Vague memories linger in the back of his mind, real and false memories both constantly fighting to be acknowledged as reality. Due to his more and more unhinged mind Tom learned quickly to become a master of deceit, turning conversations in his favor at a moments notice whenever parts of his delusional mind began to show through. All that being said the few moments of clarity he had now and again were mostly spent trying to seriously ponder just who, what, and how he had become to be himself. Most days he drew a blank.

But Preacher knows.

Preacher is a servant of God, put here to tend to the garden that is earth by ridding it of its many weeds. Or at least that is what the deluded possibly split personality of Tom Roach actually believes. Since the day Preacher was born he knew, just as God constantly reminded him (he assumed that voice was God), that his sole duty was to exact the Lords ever growing righteous vengeance. Most of the time the only thing that stood in Preachers way of accomplishing this was a man he had come to loath-Tom Roach. Tom, the poor feeble creature that realized the cancerous disease effecting his very own city and yet did nothing to stop it. That was why more and more Preacher had begun to force control over the pathetic shell of a man he had to share a body with, something these days that had become easier and easier to do. 

Having been an active vigilante in Las Flores for many years, mostly at night, Preacher still remains unknown to the vast populace and media, mainly existing in only day to day rumors and whispers. But in the underworld of crime Preacher is somewhat well known, and feared, as the man with the glowing fist.