Name:
Colette Stasia

Alias:
Splav Volk

Age:
27

Gender:
Female

Profession:
Huntress

Beliefs:
Good and evil are filters that historians apply to the past, and winners get to decide. The only thing that makes one 'good' is outsurviving or destroying the things that want you dead or enslaved.

Appearance:
Colette is 5'7" of muscle, ink, piercings, and attitude; the kind of attitude that pours from a person every time they move or speak. A thick brush of silver dreads pierced by quill-like spikes falls from the top of her scalp halfway down her back; the rest of her skull is shaved clean to the flesh to show the top of a body-length tattoo of a chimera reaching for the moon. Eyes the color of mercury peer from a hawkish face and take in the world around her like a predator looking for challenging prey. Her garb is usually a uniform from some militia or other (invariably dyed mottled shades of grey and removed of sleeves), a sturdy pair of combat boots, fingerless gloves, and a vest of body armor adorned with pockets.



Personality:
In a word, intense. She hates authority and anyone attempting to tell her what to do or enforce their will on her, and will go out of her way to spite or hurt them. She is absolutely amoral by societal standards.

Alignment:
In D&D terms, chaotic neutral. She's incredibly anti-establishment.

Likes:
True freedom.
Learning and growing in knowledge.
Winning.

Dislikes:
Hypocrisy.
Manipulation.
Enslavement or allowing oneself to be enslaved.

Strengths:
Fighting - over the past thirteen years she's learned things from almost every fighting school and has developed a savage combat style of her own tailored specifically for fighting demons and magic-users.
Chemistry - PhD level, though not formally recognized.
Biology - PhD level, though not formally recognized.

Weaknesses:
Short fuse temper.
Impatient to a fault.
Doesn't play well with anyone.

Fears:
(Crippling) Heights greater than 30ft.
Becoming what she hates.
Death.

Powers:
Limitless Pocket
Anything penetrating the outer boundary of Colette's skin is subject to entry into an extra-dimensional pocket. Anything inside this space can be freely manipulated, down to the near-sub-atomic level. Similarly, the space itself can be freely manipulated. The void can be reduced to any size or shape within the body, allowing for mass to either be entirely replaced, or for mass to be transferred between spaces.

Alchemy Pot
Any chemical reaction that takes place within the Pocket can be enhanced in a variety of Alchemical ways. Various Compounds and Synthetics can be formed that are otherwise too unstable to exist.

Backstory:
Before the Demon King's appearance and the end of the status quo, Colette was a murderer convicted of slaying thirteen of her university peers, six of which she had known since childhood. During the two years it took to convict her, she escaped custody four times, adding to the ultimate final conviction of thirty-seven murders by slaying many of her captors in the process. Prior to this homicidal outpouring, her only outstanding accomplishments consisted of utilizing her intellect to be accepted to University at age 14; an aspiring chemist with an inquisitive mind and interesting ideas.

The world had ended with her buried deep within a Russian prison in Siberia, only a couple months into her incarceration; and it was only the waking of her magic that alerted these people so far removed from the world. It turned out to be bad news for the rest of the inmates, as Colette used the environment and her fellows to experiment and learn her magic.

Since then, she has found a world both more suitable and less desirable than the one that had been changed. Upon making her way back to the tattered remains of civilization, she discovered her violent tendencies and compulsions to kill were now not only accepted, but had become desirable traits for a new vocation: Hunter. It hadn't taken her long to discover her magic lent itself incredibly well to the task of defending herself from demons as well as violently destroying them, and doing so satisfied her destructive urges.

Nobody complained either when she began vivisecting demon corpses and performing experiments on them; and again there was no hue and cry when she began to do the same on living demons, hybrid human-demons, humans with emotional attachments to demons, demons with emotional attachments to humans...

Over the next 10 years of professional demonslaying and amoral scientific experimentation, she would go on to become the foremost expert in demon physiology and biochemistry, and one of the most successful independent Hunters in the business.

Writing Sample:
"Oh, you mean this bad boy?" Colette points to the ropey scar in her right bicep. She flexes the muscle just a bit to highlight the contrast of scar tissue compared to smooth skin to the inebriated dancer gazing with a glassy, open-eyed look of horrified wonder. The corners of Colette's mouth turn up in a slight smile as she remembers how she got that scar.

"My best friend gave me that one," she states, her flat voice as close to wistful as it could get. "Taught me a good lesson too; never assume your prey is dead or disabled because they're bleeding and immobile. He was bigger than me you see, had about forty pounds of muscle I didn't," she leans forward, pantomiming the general dimensions of a boy about six inches taller than her, her face gaining intensity as she describes the event, "and he just walked into the room like fifteen seconds after his girlfriend, my other best friend by the way, finally stopped breathing. Let me tell you," her eyes grow big as she sits back and places her right hand over her heart, voice lowering conspiratorially.

"It apparently takes like three minutes to bleed out and suffocate from two perforated lungs," Colette states, unconcerned with the growing levels of alarm and fear in the girl crouched on her lap, the dancer's inebriated state clearly fading one nervous lick of her chapped lips at a time. "It's completely fascinating to watch by the way, would highly recommend it when you're bored on a Tuesday. So she's just gurgling and crying the whole time, and all I can do is watch the blood bubbles come up from the holes in her chest. And then, just as the last one pops- BANG!" she sits up suddenly, the sudden exclamation and motion drawing a startled half-scream from the dancer, who grabs Colette's neck to keep from falling on the floor.

"The door slams open," Colette whispers, locking wide, quicksilver eyes on equally wide bloodshot eyes. "So I just grab the heaviest thing nearby, and I crack him in the head with it. Like, instantly. I didn't even think about. I did it so fast after he opened the door that he didn't even try to block or dodge. He just froze as soon as he saw her and the blood. So down he goes, and I'm thinking, 'huh, I wonder if I can see his brains'. So, since the thought makes me curious, I walk over to him to look and see. Well, fucking clever bugger had grabbed a fat piece of broken glass when he went down, and had just enough consciousness left to wait for me to get close. So when I go to try and see if I can peek at his grey matter, he sticks his hand out and shoves all six or seven inches of that piece of glass onto my arm! I swear it was because of how loud I howled that everyone else came running. Earned a couple more scars that night too," she adds with a wink.

The dancer no longer appears the slightest bit influenced by whatever drug or alcohol it is she uses to convince her senses that this hellish reality is an acceptable one in which to live. Now she simply trembles slightly, the tremor of prey caught between a hunter and her natural predators; irregular vibrations perceptible to Colette where the bare skin of the girl's quivering thighs rests against her own canvas-clad hips.

"So, any scars from after the Day?" The amount of effort the girl puts into keeping her voice steady is visible, but Colette gives her credit for the attempt anyway; the dancer had already given up on doing anything distracting with her body, and it seems to be all she can do to not run away, but she's still sticking to her job. "Anything from a non-human?"

"Oh, I've taken my licks," Colette replies loudly; too loudly, as she turns her head to cast her voice toward a non-descript door in the back. Without turning her attention back to the dancer, she picks the slightly larger girl up with ease and in one fluid motion stands, placing her entertainer on the table beside the ratty lounge chair they had been seated in.

"But my magic makes sure none of it sticks!" Her opening shot is one of her favorites; as she shouts, the air leaving her lungs becomes filled with volatile gases and trace metals, Compounded and Catalyzed and with just enough magnesium particle content to react with the humid air. Reinforced with the Compounding portion of her magic, the resulting explosion blasts both the non-descript door and the 'bouncer' guarding it into the next room.

The other three bouncers in the room react with guttural, malformed strings of noises and charge Colette, magic manifesting around them to slay the Hunter that had fallen into their pit. Unfortunately for them, Colette is already in motion, using the light and general commotion from her opening blast to mask her charge. Proteins and peptides realign and reorganize inside her as she Compounds her own genetic structure. Her body rearranges the molecules of most of her organs, gaining additional resources as she simultaneously opens a flurry of tiny vents connected to her personal internal void, within which is enough mass to create a body-wide, ultra-tensile sheathe of white and pink, nanotube-fiber muscle. By the third footstep toward the bouncer at the bar the process is complete, and she's moving faster than any normal human... faster than almost any demon.

This one is still shedding its human form, abysmal magic coursing through its body and lashing out at the spot where Colette had been standing, as her fist slams into the side of its head. Had her skeleton consisted of calcium only, it couldn't have even withstood the thundering might of her footsteps as she had accelerated into the strike, much less the force of the blow. Even with the 'exo-musclesuit' (as she likes to call it) absorbing a great deal of the impact trauma, the amount of force those muscles were capable of generating would literally RIP her skeleton apart. Of course, she had compensated long ago by Compounding magnesium, aluminum, and demon bone into her entire skeleton, both greatly strengthening and lightening it at once.

So it is that the result of the blow has the appearance of the demon being struck in the side of the head by a howitzer shell. Both hemispheres crack and crunch apart like a poorly split eggshell before the energy in the hit sends the entire mass flying apart in a fine mist of blood and bone shards. By the time that one's body hits the floor, the other two are dead under similar circumstances; as usual, the lesser drones had proven unable to keep up with the Huntress' impossibly inhuman speed and blitzkrieg tactics.

"You always leave such a nasty mess," comes a voice from the ruined door; rich, dulcet tones dripping disgust as another Hunter steps through the debris that was once the door and adjacent wall to the back office of the whorehouse. Her currently-on-but-usually-off-again partner and job provider had needed a little more muscle than he himself could bring to bear on this one, so he had brought her in on it. Apparently seven lesser demons and a Fiend were too much, but three lesser demons and a Fiend were within his skillset. Colette still isn't quite sure what his magic is, as he's usually utterly hidden when he uses it and she's usually in the middle of smashing skulls, but she's fairly certain it's something light-bendy or shadow-wreathing or some other such sneaky stealthy nonsense.

"Always happy to be your distraction, Hancock. I happen to think the goresplatter actually improves the decor," Colette replies looking around and nodding her head as if appreciating the patterns of brain matter and blood on the walls, ceiling, and floor. Steam rises from her body in a sheet from the metabolic heat her combat suit generates, whisps slowly thinning into nothingness as her body regenerates and rebuilds the organs it had cannibalized for combat and bleeds the reddish tint such dense muscle fibers give her skin back into the void within.

Both Hunters ignore the soft, disjointed sobs and small, terrified squeaks of the surviving six dancers; the only living, normal humans in the establishment. It's clear they're not used to being exposed to so much violence and so many demons and corpses at once. While most of those who weren't strong enough to survive on their own had already been weeded out, there were still some like these girls who were allowed to be weak so they could be more effectively preyed upon or be used as bait to lure and lull strong prey. It was almost as if their weakness were so out of place that it practically advertised this throwback strip joint 'Demon Buffet'...

"They might actually get some customers now that you can't see the sixteen different layers of chipping paint. Either way, job's done. Wanna go collect and tie one on to celebrate?"