Garrote
| James Garrott | ||||||||||
| Player: @Shugwar | ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| Biographical Data | ||||||||||
| Real Name: | James Isham Garrott | |||||||||
| Known Aliases: | Garrote | |||||||||
| Gender: | Male | |||||||||
| Species: | Human | |||||||||
| Ethnicity: | Caucasian | |||||||||
| Place of Birth: | New Orleans, Louisiana | |||||||||
| Base of Operations: | Millennium City, West Side | |||||||||
| Characteristics | ||||||||||
| Age: | 37 | |||||||||
| Height: | 6'1 | |||||||||
| Weight: | 190 | |||||||||
| Eyes: | Pale Blue | |||||||||
| Hair: | Grey | |||||||||
| Physical Build: | Athletic | |||||||||
| Physical Features: | Scarred, angular crimson 'tattoos' running from his collarbones to his ankles. | |||||||||
| Status | ||||||||||
| Reputation: |
Unknown | |||||||||
| Citizenship: | United States of America | |||||||||
| Occupation: | Paranormal Investigator | |||||||||
| Education: | Bachelors in Criminal Justice | |||||||||
| Marital Status: | Divorced | |||||||||
| Known Powers and Abilities | ||||||||||
| Ability to cast various cantrips; May be capable of casting more powerful magick through ability or enchanted items. | ||||||||||
| Equipment and Paraphernalia | ||||||||||
| Twin Colt Pythons. Various enchanted trinkets, possibly minor artifacts. Various types of surveillance equipment. | ||||||||||
| ReldinBox Template | ||||||||||
Under Construction!
Garrott always had a knack for solving problems; he could find your lost pet, open your jammed locker, and he knew which jacket pocket your misplaced keys were in. Everyone knew that detective work was his calling. He enlisted in the Army as an MP straight out of high school, assisting in evacuations in Africa before becoming a CID Special Agent. While he stayed on in the Reserves for another six years, he opted to pursue a career as a detective for the local New Orleans PD over federal level investigations.
Most everyone in the department considered him a model citizen and a crack detective, and he had the clearance rate, driving record, and credit score to back it up. That's not to say he was without his vices; he shirked the occasional regulation and sometimes had one drink too many, but it never effected his stellar work ethic. In fact, he never encountered a case he couldn't solve... not until the branding murders.
The victims were always found in their beds, no sign of struggle, nothing in the house disturbed. There were only ever two hints to suggest their passing had been anything but natural: the strange, angular tattoos carved into their upper body and the look of primal terror frozen on their faces. Garrott became obsessed as the murders continued seemingly at random, until finally he found a pattern.
He didn't hear signs of a disturbance as he kicked the door in, and he barely even had probable cause; He just knew. He froze as he turned the corner into the bedroom. The thing hunched over the bed wasn't even remotely human; the air around it rippled and distorted, as if reality itself were offended by it's presence. When it turned and looked at him, he aimed and emptied his revolver.
The creature seemed to draw the light from the flash of the muzzle into itself, along with all other light in the room. For a moment, everything was was shrouded in choking, unnatural darkness. And then the light returned, and Garrott was alone, save for the scarred, terror stricken corpse of the creature's latest victim. When dispatch arrived to find him shaking on the porch, he told them what he'd seen.
To say his peers were skeptical is an understatement; they'd heard the stories of outlandish happenings in Vibora Bay and Millennium City, but those types of things didn't happen in their neck of the woods. Still, given Garrott's exemplary work history and the extraordinary nature of the crimes, PRIMUS was called in to investigate. Garrott eagerly awaited the agent's findings, certain he was soon to be vindicated.
Things didn't quite turn out the way he imagined. The agents found no traces of magic or anything else to suggest the crimes were paranormal in nature. While they admitted the circumstances and untraceable nature of the murders were remarkable, they determined it was the work of a highly skilled but otherwise human psychopath and turned the case back over to NOPD.
Weeks went by, and then months without another murder occurring, and the department was eager to let the whole thing be buried in the cold case files. But not Garrott. He knew what he saw, and the memory of that thing staring back at him haunted his every waking thought. His once flawless clearance rate slipped, and he dedicated every second he was able to reviewing the evidence over and over.
Tomes of occult lore, urban legends, even conspiracy forums were among the avenues he began to explore, much to the growing concern of his friends and co-workers. He payed them no mind; once he uncovered the truth, they'd all understand. He never expected that the truth would come to him. It happened while his wife was away at her family's for Thanksgiving, a trip he had always taken with her before.
He'd staggered to his bed after one too many glasses of bourbon, fully clothed and intending to resume his work after a short nap. He'd only just drifted into a fitful slumber when he jolted awake, the hairs on his neck standing on end and an instinctual feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. When he opened his eyes, the creature was staring back at him. As terrifying as that first encounter had been, it couldn't prepare him for what he saw in that moment.
The thing had no static form or substance, but instead seemed to shift and blur continuously. It's composition was nothing tangible, instead seeming an amalgam of primally terrifying concepts and sensations. Claws, decay, and suffocation were all hinted at without ever being plainly displayed, as were other previously unknown sensations of indescribable fear and panic. The ripples surrounding its form seemed to be tears in reality, its edges offering glimpses of alien landscapes and monstrous entities of some other world beyond.
Garrott opened his mouth to scream, but no sound issued forth; his lungs were empty, and he found himself unable to draw in air.
