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Player: @infectedassault
[[Image:Mort hunting.jpg|300px|]]
"Damsels detest the hero who walks out of blemished light with a handsome hand and a nowhere linage of sweaty palms."
Biographical Data
Real Name: Matthew Linvingston
Known Aliases: "Pookie"
Gender: Male
Species: Genetically Modified Human
Ethnicity: Caucasian/Unknown/Confidential
Place of Birth: Unknown/ Somewhere in the southern states of America
Base of Operations: Millennium City/ Outside of Detroit
Relatives: Deceased
Age: 54
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 170lbs
Eyes: Crimson due to Hyphema
Hair: Graveyard Brown
Complexion: Ashy/Smooth
Physical Build: Athletic Musculature
Physical Features: Athletic Musculature
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Identity: Unknown
Years Active: 12
Citizenship: Posthumous
Occupation: Combat Tracking and Counter Tracking/ Information Security Practitioner.
Education: Civilian Redacted/ Military Redacted
Marital Status: Widower
Known Powers and Abilities
Semi Immortality,

Superhuman Strength,

Superhuman Speed,

Superhuman Durability,

Superhuman Endurance,

Enhanced Senses,

Enhanced Cellular Regeneration,

Equipment and Paraphernalia
One Paramilitary Standard Issue Collection Kit (SICK) chestwear, leggings and footwear: Open mesh structure on back and thigh for comfort and breathability, Stretch ribs on chest and upper back, Compression fit design to reduce muscle fatigue, Zip-less opening on front and top back, Stealth-weave fibers to reduce or eliminate unwanted friction and noise, as well as absorbing more light than other fabrics.

Stupid, Highly Reflective Red and Yellow tinted Aviator Sunglasses.

A large, old duster jacket, Jet black with matching leather cloak: Makes the prefect "FWAP" sound every time.

A questionably authentic Stetson hat: Jet black leather and wide brimmed.

A High Carbon Damascus Steel Longsword With Clay Temper and Buttressed Silver Edging: Nicknamed "Searchlight" Handle Material: Purpleheart Wood with Damascus Steel Bolsters Overall Length: 38" Rockwell Hardness: 56-58 HRC 5 Pieces of Carbon Steel #43 and #40 5 Pieces of High Carbon Steel 1095 1 OZ Solid Silver Ingot

Model 18 Randall Survival Knife BLADE LENGTH: 5.5", 7.5" BLADE STOCK: 1/4" HANDLE SHAPE: Standard HANDLE MATERIAL: Steel/Carbon Fiber HILT STYLE: Brass Double WEIGHT: 5.5" - 10-12 oz.

Physical Attributes
Non-Physical Attributes
MaekadaBox created by @Maekada

A southern twang, 3:43am, Vibora Bay...

"For the first time in her life, Louisa had come into one of the dwellings of the Coketown Hands; for the first time in her life, she was face to face with anything like individuality in connection with them. She knew of their existence by hundreds and by thousands. She knew what results in work given a number of them would produce, in a given space of time. She knew them in crowds passing to and from their nests, like ants or beetles. But she knew from her reading infinitely more of the ways of toiling insects than of these toiling men and woman."

A voice like a well lubricated trash compactor barked in between crimson spittle. "Who ARE you....what is this?!" Spray pattern evidence may have been concerning if not for the location, a preexisting murder scene spread eagle and neglected.

"These are Hard Times, beast. Hush now and think about these words. I want you to really feel the meaning, try to appreciate what the character is going through." A quick movement, reflective light illuminates crimson droplets clinging to rotting wall paper like dying stars of some far off galaxy experiencing heat death. The man in black didn't move the blade much, just enough.

"Something to be worked so much and paid so much, and there ended; something to be infallibly settled by laws of supply and demand; something that blundered against those laws, and floundered into difficulty; something that was a little pinched when wheat was dear, and over-ate itself when wheat was cheap; something that increased at such a rate of percentage, and yielded such another percentage of crime, and such another percentage of pauperism; something wholesale, of which vast fortunes were made; something that occasionally rose like a sea, and did some harm and waste chiefly to itself, and fell again; This she knew the Coketown Hand to be. But, she scarcely thought more of separating them into units, than of separating the sea itself into it's component drops."

"Are you quoting Charles Dickens verbatim?!" A horrid, serrated mouth limply roared.

"Now, Grandma...I might not be an educated type but I like to think the wisdom of mankind has and will ALWAYS come from a place where fiends like your own damn self cannot comprehend. Ya' see, In this instance in particular, you...are Coketown and by my own volition, I reckon that makes me Louisa. I know all abouts exactly whats abouts I needs to be knowin' 'bout your type. You're evil and I'll be honest. You're winning this..Jihad..or what have you. Not unlike Coketown, your evil is so prevalent, it's a sea of deeds need correctin' but you're also the victim of powers beyond both your and my understandin'....Not unlike destiny which brings us to your sorry ass and my sword in your gut. The hand of god almighty pinning a single droplet to the drywall of justice!"

"By pulled fangs, this is insanity. it's like you're just saying words you think sound good because you briefly scanned a book once. You're so stupid it hurts!" The creature bellows.

"Ahh? Not for nothin' for that blade in your flesh, leech. That's pure silver. Pinned down, bested by the blood of your own and I can't help but prolong your existence. Yeah..*The man in black spits* Maybe it's gottin' something to do with that skin you're wearing."

The sickly ash colored woman chortles, moaning with pleasure.

"Disgustin'..." Mortisword spits again. "You first came to me in a dream, Whispered black magic rites obscene, Your nails caressed my windowpane, Thunder cracked, then came the rain, Woke up bleeding from an open vein. You don't care much for human music do you, Grandma?"

"Unrelenting insect, picking, gnawing endlessly chewing!" The vampire groans.

"Ya see, Grandma, you're on life support. This here sword is the oxygen and I've a finger firmly against the off switch!"

Any attempts to bring out what remained of her humanity left the room when it came time to shut the oxygen off. Out came the silvery edge and she didn't even gasp. It's chest heaved and it's mouth crooked open and blood poured down her chin. What a horrible sight. There were no grandchildren or lifelong lovers to console, just my bleeding eyes piercing over aviators that are just too god damned cool. Looking directly at the beast wearing some poor schmuck's Grandmother's skin, I grabbed a wad of paper tissues and went to blot the blood saying 'I've got it, Grandma." More and more blood drooled out, sliding down her chin and then the creature's tongue appeared between her lips, pushing more blood out. With some nearby fabric I gathered up the blood saying 'It's alright Grandma, I'm taking care of it.' After several quick phantom breaths, Grandma's lungs gave up pretending they were suffocating. Something told me to close it's eyes.


Matthew S. Livingston "Pookie" 42, died peacefully on Sunday, January 3rd, 2009 at the Minnesota Veterans Home in Minneapolis. Pookie was a lifelong resident of the Twin Cities area and graduated from Mahtomedi High. After serving in the US Marine Corps, he attended University of Holy Cross in Metairie, Louisiana where he dropped out. He loved music, guns, war games, road trips, entertaining friends and family, helping on the family farm and getting together with his enlistment buddies daily for coffee and camaraderie. Everyone who knew Pookie loved his company because of his down-to-earth personality and sense of humor. He will be missed.//redacted//KIA during the Qularr invasion of Millennium city. Body unrecovered. Dishonorable discharge after conviction of first degree murder of wife and children. Sentenced to UCMJ offender Non-Judicial Punishment. Death by Injection//redacted//


Pre Event: A tall, well built man with brown hair, well groomed with the usual Army green or Maroon. Sun tanned with deep blue eyes. In general, a good looking average man in fighting shape due to his training.

Post Event: A shadowy figure exists among the deep corners of the city. Watching without eyes, Inflicting justice without form. The "Pookie" Man, more myth than man among the criminal underworld. Unreliable and uncorroborated witness testimony clam The Pookie man is a 9 foot tall Canadian/Vampire Bat hybrid. Thick black fur with large glowing orange eyes. Other report a beautiful and pale man in his late 30s with the most ridiculous aviator sunglasses you've ever seen. Only one detail remains constant, the sound of a cloak performing a perfect FWAP sound has been heard before each attack.


Semi Immortality: Mortisword is semi-immortal, meaning he doesn't age after reaching adulthood and the "transition". He can still die but not from disease, drowning or other natural causes.

Superhuman Strength: He is much stronger than a normal human. Able to lift objects heavier than 1 ton with relative ease. He can also jump great distances and fall from great heights without getting injured.

Superhuman Speed: The ability to run at far greater speeds and distances than a normal human. Also having enhanced reflexes, being able to dodge and block with ease.

Superhuman Durability: Matthew Livingston is able withstand high impact forces and injuries that would cripple a normal human.

Superhuman Endurance: The ability to physically exert himself during fights and run without getting tired.

Enhanced Senses: His senses of smell, sight, and hearing are heightened. He can see in darkness and at greater distances, hear things no normal human can hear and smell things no normal human can smell.

Enhanced Cellular Regeneration: His genetically enhanced body exists in a state of quasi-death. The tissues form a molecular bond which corrects irregularities within the structure. Due to this, he is able to slowly heal from the most dire wounds. The extent of this healing factor is yet to be stress tested beyond usual mortal wounds.


Renfield's Syndrome & Zoophagia: Mortisword's mental illness characterized by an obsession with drinking one's own blood and the blood of other humans and animals.

Photosensitivity: An immune system reaction to sunlight, most often, an itchy red rash. The most common locations include the "V" of the neck, the back of the hands, the outside surface of the arms and the lower legs. In rare cases, the skin reaction may be more severe, producing hives or small blisters that may even spread to skin in clothed areas. In Mortisword, this reaction is due to cellular instability from a secret military serum. Excess UV radiation breaks down the bonds of the replenishing chemical bonds in his body resulting in a return to normal human characteristics. This process is slow, requiring more than a few days of direct exposure. However, if left in the sun, this progresses beyond weakening and into death. Upon contracting Solar Sickness, Matthew Livingston must retreat to the dark for a period of one full day/night cycle. His abilities are then fully reestablished.

PTSD: Haunted by the death of his family he experiences the follow symptoms which are rare and occur irregular periods: vivid flashbacks, intrusive thoughts or images, nightmares, intense distress at real or symbolic reminders of the trauma, physical sensations such as pain, sweating, nausea or trembling.