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Backtagging: Definitely.
Threadhopping: Yep.
Fourthwalling: Depends. Clear it with me first. Learning he's a videogame character (let alone what a videogame is) has both its ups and downs, if mostly the latter.
Offensive subjects (elaborate): None I can think of atm.

[IC]
Hugging this character: If you're one of his nearest and dearest, go for it.
Kissing this character: Ditto.
Flirting with this character: Sure. Just remember he's married.
Fighting with this character: HELL YEAH.
Injuring this character (include limits and severity): Happens to him all the time. Anything short of losing limbs, I guess?
Killing this character: As plotting demands. Let's talk first.
Using telepathy/mind reading abilities on this character: Can't think of anything to reasonably stop this one, so go ahead.

[After a few minutes of trial and error.]

This is Trevor Belmont. Call on me at anytime. I will get back to you as soon as I am able.

( Character Profile (Scorched) )

[It's hard to make out the usual sound of waves crashing on the beach. That's because it's been drowned out by the chaos of monsters tearing into each other. Trevor is observing this from a close yet safe distance.]

That accursed tower... 'tis much closer than I've ever seen it these past months. Has that happened before?

And if I knew not any better, it almost looks as if our prey seek to herald its approach with their own blood. The very waves are running red with it.

This bodes not well. What devilry is afoot?

...how goes the search for a cure? Did any of the things we find at that hospice help out?

And what have I missed apart from someone's birthday, apparently?

((OOC: Trevor actually revived much earlier, so this is backdated a few days.))

[His communicator clattering across the hard wooden floor of his room must have triggered the power button. With the device lying on its side, the video feed shows Trevor viciously coughing blood and retching, doubled over in a growing pool of scarlet. He has clearly been within the final throes of Stage 4 for some days, and is still fighting it. But his strength is on the wane, evidenced in the way his head sinks ever lower and the arms supporting his body slacken. Till at last, he's lying prone. Glaring proof that this vile plague can fell even the mightiest.]

Sy...pha...

[And with that whispered name, Trevor Belmont breathes his last for the first time.]

( Locked to Ryu )

[He's eyeing the dead couple on the bench inside the station. Trevor tries not to think of the wife he left behind and speaks.]

I've heard tales of the Black Death a century before my time. Witnessed the foul touch of pestilence cast by my nemesis upon mankind. The destruction wrought by this plague appears to best the both of them. I pray nothing like this befalls any of our worlds.

That said, we seem to be in a quandary. There is visible word of the Crimson King and Slender Man nearby. If they are about, staying close means we stand a better chance of repelling them. Yet that also means the plague, if it is still here, will be more free to roam among us.

[Cranes his head in the direction of the hospital. The darkness hanging over it is calling out to him.] I mean to explore yonder hospice given the chance and a measure of company. If you are interested in conducting this as a team effort, let me know. We just might find something useful within.

Tread lightly, my friends. And stay clear of that... distortion. I never thought seeing the Tower fall would be a bad thing.

Vile. To think it would prey on children.

[lifts his voice]

Everyone:

I've completed my first dozen silver knives with Dean's supervision. Come for them at the Forge, or I can bring them to you myself. In light of this 'Slender Man' peril I would see us all armed and ready, especially the younger ones.

Outside of that, best not deviate from the usual precautions. Go nowhere alone, keep your communicators on you at all times, try to be within sight of the nearest patrols... anything to prevent a repeat of last month's murder spree.

[beat]

That is all for now. Take care.

[The dead may come back to life here, and Ryu may not have been himself. But to Trevor's mind, neither of that made helping to end the lad's life any more right. After three days of letting this bother him, he finally pushes it aside.]

We did what we had to.

Naoto: perhaps I will avail of your wolf's services much sooner than I thought. The hunt won't see me at my peak for a matter of days, due to recent injuries.

And... Helen, was it? How are you faring?

Take care of him, Lord. He is one of your own, after all.

[There's about a quarter minute's worth of soft careful munching down by the beach. It's broken only once by whistling steel and a mirelurk carcass thudding to the sand. Other than his concern about what happened to Castiel, Trevor sounds pleased, if a little wistful.]

A taste of home, here on World's End. Perhaps there is a bit less to dislike about this place.

[The wet splurch of Trevor taking his axe back is then followed by the clatter of plastic spheres being gathered up.]

Everyone: I will be bringing mamaliga to the Thorn. 'Tis a kind of bread from my world. Take as much of it as you want, for there is plenty to go around.

((OOC: Slightly backdated. Trevor happened upon those little solid bubbles and found a bunch of them contained a delicious peasant staple from back home. It also reminded him of his wife and kid but he's just quiet about that.))

The murderer has fallen. All should be returning to some semblance of normalcy now. Yet my soul burns with a sense of unfinished business. Vexing on its own to be sure. But 'tis even more so when you cannot remember just what that business is supposed to be.

[a sigh that sounds more like a growl] Nothing truly ends in World's End, does it?

((OOC: It's B and D for Trevor.))

[This entry finds Trevor walking down one of the settlement's back roads with firewood under one arm. He's ripped and stripped to the waist, a figure of barbaric comeliness. Or angelic savagery. Take your pick.]

Tempers are likelier to flare in this heat. But perhaps we men have other things to worry about in the way of flaring. After all, the Lord saw fit to give us two heads and only enough blood to think with one.

Worse yet, that stench has---

[His footsteps come to a halt. He's caught sight of the bloody message painted near the city bulletin. The hunter draws an axe out of instinct but he knows it's useless. There's no one and nothing about but the writing on the wall and its' ominous portents.]

"Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm back World's End
And I'm coming... 4... u."

[He lets any viewers have a video feed of the message itself.]

...why announce yourself in the first place? Forewarned is forearmed.

You who've been here longer: who has returned and what cause is there for worry?

For once, I am uncertain if brighter days are truly cause for celebration. Such doubt is unusual for one who fights to see the next sunrise.

I suppose we will have to wait and see if anything comes of this. Stay alert now, the lot of you.

A floating island. [mild fit of coughing here] I had no idea we had one this whole time. Let alone one that could rain down hellfire on the lot of us. T'would seem that here, even the very skies are our enemy.

Is anyone injured? I am no healer, but I can can come to you as soon as possible and see you to them.

[This video transmission is showing what looks like the afermath of a terrible struggle. The broken tree trunks, torn branches, and shattered rocks strewn about mark what's left of a simple forest grove. Near its center, the carcass of a mutant bear lies slumped by a boulder. Look closely and you'll see several of its torso bones have been snapped as if from repeated sledgehammer blows. A throwing axe a few times larger than the average tomahawk lies buried in its half-cleaved skull. The thing has been dead for about half an hour. Maybe more.]

...fool to let your guard down. You deserved this.

[Then the camera pans left to reveal a man's face. Long brown hair, strongly built, scar over one eye... bleeding from the cheek and forehead. We were obviously seeing the mini-wastleand from over his shoulder, though unintentionally.]

If the instructions on this... thing are correct, this is some means of contacting other people here. Wherever that happens to be; I am clearly not in Wallachia, though the darkness here is not entirely dissimilar.

Let us put it to the test then. The name is Trevor Belmont. Is anyone out there? What is going on here and who is responsible?

((OOC: One of the new mutant bears jumped Trevor minutes after his arrival, while he was figuring out how to use the communicator. The ensuing fight took place in the northwest woods, so feel free to have heard or even witnessed the brawl.))

This is my HMD/concrit post for Castlevania's Trevor Belmont. If you feel my portrayal of him leaves something to be desired, or if you believe I've done anything ICly or OOCLY that needs to be brought to my attention, then this is the place to do it. Lay it on me flat; I'm always open for improvement. I'll be a good sport about it, promise. ^_^

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Trevor Belmont

January 2012

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Out Of The Darkness And Despair, A Champion Arose

A True-Blooded Vampire Hunter Named Trevor Belmont

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