Greetings.
Posted: Sun Feb 16, 2014 3:43 am
I was born into a family which has a long history of psychics. I never knew this until recently, but I have always known that I was different from those around me. I am not an ordinary person. This is how I became a demon hunter.
When I was a girl I was always tinkering with things, taking them apart, putting them back together again. Then I started to build things. All I had to work with was my father’s relatively small work bench in the basement and scraps I would find here and there. I never really knew what I was doing but it always felt natural to do these things. The most natural thing that came to me was the construction of locks and, much more to my liking, opening them without keys or even anything more than the will of my mind.
My father was the first to recognise that something was different about me. Nothing could be more clear to him than when I was walking around the woods near the house with a machete and safety glasses I had been tinkering around with. It was then that my uncle started to spend some more time with me and I spent more time in his large work room. He is a metal worker and artist who works with metal. He not only taught me how to build swords and armour that functioned, he taught me how to use my mind to manipulate the physical world.
As I got older I was sent to a technical school where I could focus on mechanical projects. Meanwhile my uncle started to teach me other things, like how to use my fists, feet, and swords in combat. I was sixteen when I completed my first set of hunting gear. It was also when he took me out on my first hunt. I cannot say for sure what we slew but I can tell you that it was a spider the size of a large dog and when it was destroyed it exploded into a brilliant blossom of sparks but was there was no attending sound.
My training continued and our missions took on more complexity and difficulty. I took down a ghoul with my uncle in a long forgotten cemetery that you would never know existed except for its location on an old map of the area. The last person to be buried there was in the 1930s. No one has lived in the area since the 1960s, when the map was created.
Family tradition, I learned, was that once a psychic is trained and ready to enter the shadows the psychic could go anywhere in the world and put together a team. I was drawn to St. Louis, Missouri. I heard about the many haunted roads, the Bubbleheads, the exorcism that was performed there, and many apparitions. I was trying to get in at a university there but the only work I could find was as a locksmith. My family is, of course, aware of the Lazlo Society and I know that there is some representation of it in the St. Louis area. This was another reason for selecting St. Louis.
I met an interesting fellow there in St. Louis. He drove up from his home about an hour away. He goes by the name Scotty. He introduced me to his friend who he just calls “Noob” although he is no longer a newbie having been a fire starter for several years and having a lot of experience already under his belt. Anyway, Scotty is, well, Scotty. Having read up on him here that is the only conclusion to make.
He showed me the meteorite that crashed into his property and followed very soon after it some Men in Black arrived. I had already read that Scotty once worked for the government and even did some work in Afghanistan. Incidentally, Afghanistan is where some of the Russians here got their start in working beyond the supernatural. Small world.
He took me to the bridge where he and some other Lazlo members have investigated heads floating in the Meramec River. That investigation revealed that this bridge was a transitional place of power; if it is regular, the range of time is quite long.
Also in the area where Scotty lives is an old iron mine called Pea Ridge Mine. It has been closed for some time but it seems to be a hotbed of paranormal activity; some even say it is a gateway straight into Hell. I am starting to understand where this notion comes from. We were in the area for less than an hour and we were already on the track of something nasty, furry, howling at the Moon, and undead. I was with Scotty, Noob, and another gent who wishes to remain anonymous. We had quite a fight with the werewolf and I got my ass handed to me in that fight, but we worked together and had each others’ backs. We prevailed in the end.
And so now I have my mind, sights, and swords set on eradicating these beats from our world. Scotty denies it but I feel like this might have been a recruitment effort on his part to test my skills and abilities. Shortly after my return to St. Louis I was contacted by an employer looking to set up an interview.
When I was a girl I was always tinkering with things, taking them apart, putting them back together again. Then I started to build things. All I had to work with was my father’s relatively small work bench in the basement and scraps I would find here and there. I never really knew what I was doing but it always felt natural to do these things. The most natural thing that came to me was the construction of locks and, much more to my liking, opening them without keys or even anything more than the will of my mind.
My father was the first to recognise that something was different about me. Nothing could be more clear to him than when I was walking around the woods near the house with a machete and safety glasses I had been tinkering around with. It was then that my uncle started to spend some more time with me and I spent more time in his large work room. He is a metal worker and artist who works with metal. He not only taught me how to build swords and armour that functioned, he taught me how to use my mind to manipulate the physical world.
As I got older I was sent to a technical school where I could focus on mechanical projects. Meanwhile my uncle started to teach me other things, like how to use my fists, feet, and swords in combat. I was sixteen when I completed my first set of hunting gear. It was also when he took me out on my first hunt. I cannot say for sure what we slew but I can tell you that it was a spider the size of a large dog and when it was destroyed it exploded into a brilliant blossom of sparks but was there was no attending sound.
My training continued and our missions took on more complexity and difficulty. I took down a ghoul with my uncle in a long forgotten cemetery that you would never know existed except for its location on an old map of the area. The last person to be buried there was in the 1930s. No one has lived in the area since the 1960s, when the map was created.
Family tradition, I learned, was that once a psychic is trained and ready to enter the shadows the psychic could go anywhere in the world and put together a team. I was drawn to St. Louis, Missouri. I heard about the many haunted roads, the Bubbleheads, the exorcism that was performed there, and many apparitions. I was trying to get in at a university there but the only work I could find was as a locksmith. My family is, of course, aware of the Lazlo Society and I know that there is some representation of it in the St. Louis area. This was another reason for selecting St. Louis.
I met an interesting fellow there in St. Louis. He drove up from his home about an hour away. He goes by the name Scotty. He introduced me to his friend who he just calls “Noob” although he is no longer a newbie having been a fire starter for several years and having a lot of experience already under his belt. Anyway, Scotty is, well, Scotty. Having read up on him here that is the only conclusion to make.
He showed me the meteorite that crashed into his property and followed very soon after it some Men in Black arrived. I had already read that Scotty once worked for the government and even did some work in Afghanistan. Incidentally, Afghanistan is where some of the Russians here got their start in working beyond the supernatural. Small world.
He took me to the bridge where he and some other Lazlo members have investigated heads floating in the Meramec River. That investigation revealed that this bridge was a transitional place of power; if it is regular, the range of time is quite long.
Also in the area where Scotty lives is an old iron mine called Pea Ridge Mine. It has been closed for some time but it seems to be a hotbed of paranormal activity; some even say it is a gateway straight into Hell. I am starting to understand where this notion comes from. We were in the area for less than an hour and we were already on the track of something nasty, furry, howling at the Moon, and undead. I was with Scotty, Noob, and another gent who wishes to remain anonymous. We had quite a fight with the werewolf and I got my ass handed to me in that fight, but we worked together and had each others’ backs. We prevailed in the end.
And so now I have my mind, sights, and swords set on eradicating these beats from our world. Scotty denies it but I feel like this might have been a recruitment effort on his part to test my skills and abilities. Shortly after my return to St. Louis I was contacted by an employer looking to set up an interview.
