August/September Year 1

October Year 1

November Year 1

Arklay House, Lumenwood

Nestled between two somewhat smaller houses in the middle north of Lumenwood and backing up to a courtyard garden surrounded by brick walls with a fire pit that doubles as a trash incinerator, stands this house which bears an alarming similarity to the house he'd occupied in Deerington. Even the stained glass fanlight window with the red and white sigil very like that of the Umbrella Corporation has survived, along with the sparse if elegant furnishings within (including the Eames chair by the fireplace in the porch room parlor and the library of the supernatural he'd collected in one drawing room turned study on the ground floor). The only difference seems the attic isn't a death trap and the spectral visitors have left (no need to worry about Spencer's ghost glaring at you from a corner).

There are two Lamp locations, one on the pavement out front and the other in the garden, reserved for what friends he has.

Character Base

• Character Name: Albert Wesker
• Age: 48 (looks more like he's in his late 20s/early 30s, thanks to Better Living Through Genetically Modded Viruses)
• Canon/Canon Point: Resident Evil/Biohazard series (1996 - present, and with more entries in production) Taken from the end of Resident Evil 5: Lost in Nightmare (2010)

• Items Coming Along:
-13 Niebolt Street and its elegant but sparse furnishings as well as the library of books on the supernatural he'd collected and the notebooks he'd filled of observations and notes (Now renamed Arklay House, relocated to Lumenwood)
-A Kos Parasite (acquired during October 2020)
-A Plague Doctor's garb (acquired during October 2020)
-His Samurai Edge handgun (acquired by request during November 2020)
-The tusk-like bone sword (crafted for him by Ruby Rose om his request during November 2020)
-Yersinia the pale horse (acquired April 2021)

• Content Warnings for Character: Sociopathy/psychopathy/Machiavellianism, Social Darwinism, unethical medical research/experiments involving genetically engineered viruses (some to transform human subjects into zombie-mutant bioweapons, another to straight up weed out genetically weaker humans), zombie outbreak, eugenics experimentation/indoctrination (inflicted on him), brainwashing/indoctrination in messed-up philosophies (also inflicted on him), body horror transformations, murder of two mentors (one indirect, the other very direct), indirect involvement in mass murder via a zombie virus outbreak, kidnapping, torture/using unwilling test subjects, psychological manipulation, sadism, back-stabbing, withholding the truth/dissembling, espionage of a corrupt corporation, god-complex, attempted decimation of humanity via inducing a pandemic in a bid to force a jump-start in human evolution.

Original Deerington Application

• Link to Accepted Deerington Application: Here.

• Additional Adjustments to include: His time in Deerington was one of growth and awakening and coming to a greater self-awareness. He loathed being summoned here, which manifested in a simmering hatred of Sodder, opposite to the usual compassion and concern which many of the Sleepers manifested, but that would evolve in time. He chose to keep to the shadows, studying the board, as was his usual MO. But he did have his moments of hiding in plain sight. While he may have masked much of his nastiness to some of the Sleepers, a few could see right through his façade of dark affability. The Tenth Doctor became his confidante and even the father figure he never truly had but which he needed, and while he disagrees deeply with some of The Doctor's philosophy that humans are wondrous creatures and he still sees human as largely debased creatures whose evolution has stagnated, he's softened much of his attitude. If humanity succeeds or fails it's all one to him now: he won't be actively trying to rig the board (at least not for wide swaths of the human race. Willing individuals he deems worthy of evolving might be another matter entirely.).

Vira-Lorr, early in their relationship, tellingly said "Humility looks becoming on you, Albert." which despite his continued arrogance, went a long way to curb some of his narcissism (That and he doesn't doubt for a minute she'd end him if he gave her a good reason to...). Working under her at F.E.A.R. as a lab tech and genetic analyst in exchange for a ready supply of PG67A/W, the anti-viral which keeps his mutations from running off the rails, kept him on a short leash, which he grew to eventually accept and to trust her enough to open up to her about his nature, even trusting her enough to be vulnerable with her. In January, when the beach revealed pieces of the Sleepers' pasts, he discovered a hair comb similar to one his lost love had worn, something he felt at ease enough to reveal to her. More imperatively, he revealed the risk of losing himself to the Progenitor Virus, and formulated a failsafe with her to save him from himself if it ever cane to that.

Diarmuid's observations were useful, but above that, something in the youngster's innate goodness appealed to his sense of balance.

Perhaps his oddest relationship involved Darth Maul, whom he met early on in Deer Form when he attempted to leave the town. Operating word being "attempted". When he turned up at the Grady Hotel, three-quarters dead of cold, Maul thawed him out (we don't fault Maul for wondering a bit about this one's survival capabilities, considering how much the town and the powers that were played with Wesker...). He would return the favor by accompanying him into Cynthia's domain. Later, he would come to something of a defense of his comrade in a time of crisis.

He might have in spirit taken a knee to Mother Superior, but he also developed a fondness for Cynthia, who may have dimly reminded him of the mother he barely had, leading to his turning his back on Superior and gently sacrificing Cynthia in an act clearly intended as a mercy kill.

He might have despised Sodder for dragging him away from his world, but in the end, his final attack on her came partly as an act of self-defense rather than a direct and deliberate assault. He was even able to bid her farewell at Orpheus's shrine during the last days of the town.

He connected With Jezebel Disraeli as an odd confidante, starting with Latin and Greek ephemerae and moving on to darker and more serious matters. During their internment in the mental ward within The Lab, they found solace in each other's company and plotted their escape. On the eve of his departure, when he considered severing one connection with the town, Disraeli encouraged him to torch that bridge. A story arc derived from Resident Evil needs a location being consumed at the end, ne??

He had an opportunity to kill Charlie Kelly, when the weird little rat-man turned up in the attic of 13 Niebolt Street, but he stopped himself. We suspect Charlie amused him and now serves as the jester in the court of Wesker's twisted mind.

In February, he came out of the shadows to lend his intellect and his strength to assist the team which Bill Cipher had gathered to (allegedly) build a portal which would have enabled Sleepers to return to their worlds. This, however, proved a failure and he suffered his first Death in the town, returning shaken, but also assuming a Deer form, an entity that gave him the godhood he craved but kept him on the short leash he needs.

The hope that he might cross paths again with his elder sister Alex met with strain when he encountered her terrifyingly mutated form among the creatures who broke loose from the holding cells in F.E.A.R. in Ramona's memory. But another encounter proved tragic though touching when a mysterious brunette Waste started following him about in March; in May, the Waste's face was revealed shortly before her death: the face of Alex in her new host body which she shared with a young woman named Natalia Korda. If anything could prove that Albert Wesker remained in possession of his humanity, his heart breaking at her death should suffice. This steeled his resolve to return to his world and rewrite the ending of their stories, though finding a way out now came down to a matter of waiting for the clock to run down on the town.

Larxene unwittingly helped him to continue his self-reformation, with her biting attitude toward the fourth wall, which, coupled with the suspect nature of the dream world and his own discovery that he'd been the product of a science experiment, made him realize the dream world, despite his abrupt arrival, had given him a chance to take back his own narrative and change it for the better, or at least something that isn't destroying his world and/or himself in the process. Not to say that these two weren't frank in their opinions of their childlike hostess

By the time the Door opened, he was ready to quit what remained of Sodder's nightmare and return to the world he came from, but at the same time, he found himself valuing the connections he'd made and value them enough to briefly reconsider his choice. He stepped through the door of the lighthouse leading back to his world with the Eleventh Doctor at his side as he willingly surrendered to the BSAA, managing to convince them to allow him to serve as an asset. They did so, but kept him as a low-level field agent, a compromise he accepted. It was better being liquidated or dying in the maw of a volcano with two rocket grenades through his head.

Chapter 2 Attributes

• Canon Powers: These will be contingent on his transfusing himself with/feeding on sufficient amounts of blood:

-Nigh invulnerability to injury/rapid healing: Anything that would kill a robust and very fit but otherwise baseline human male in his forties will kill him (no chance of his surviving someone dropping fourteen steel I-beams onto him and merely stunning him; they're just going to crush him like a bug), Non-lethal damage will heal at about two thirds his usual rate (An hour or so rather than within minutes).

-Immunity to most known viruses: This will not apply to in-game pathogens, blood-drunkenness, corruption, or beasthood. Basically, consider this one nerfed.

-Super strength: In canon, he's seen lifting a large steel grating off a good sized entrance and throwing it several feet away, has also lifted a canonically two hundred pound man (twenty pounds heavier than himself, no less) above his head, amongst other feats. This will be a thing as long ss he stays on top his blood regimen.

-Super speed/heightened reflexes: He can dodge bullets like he's teleporting (as long as he can see where they're coming from). Very handy in dodging beasts. Again, contingent upon blood consumption

• Blood Type: Vileblood. It seemed to fit his nature and skillset the best.

• Omen: A small brown weasel named Cypher who speaks with a Cockney British accent and gives an appearance of being more friendly and outgoing than his/their host. Basically, Cyph is the public relations to "the boss".

• Blessed Day: May 8th (meta: the release date of RE 8: Village, which revealed Spencer's source of inspiration for Project W; head canon: the date a three year old "Subject 013" was abducted by Spencer and his goons)

• Patron Pthumerian: Bausphomette - If there's anyone who can keep this guy in line, it might be that big ol' pupper, though we like to think he'd also be proud that Wesker has taken this time and place as an opportunity to take control of his own narrative (also, we suspect a three year old "Subject 013" would have loved it if a Baus had come to his rescue at a certain moment).

• Blood Power Manifestation: We're still working out the details and this may emerge as he explores the world and adapts to it (and the player gets a feel for the world), but a few possible things: He'll lean more into the scientific side of Blood Ministry (transfusions and things of that nature), but he won't turn his nose up at someone offering or suggesting more ritualized workings. As the Progenitor Virus has effectively gone dormant, thanks to the toxicity of his blood, he'll be dependent on blood consumption to maintain his abilities (effectively, an inversion of his dependence on that serum which kept Progenitor from running amok in his system). Folk needn't worry about him chomping on their necks, though they'd be forgiven if they mistook him for a vampire in a positive discriminatory manner (I mean, look at him...). Transfusions or mixing small amounts of blood with other liquids (eg. wine, tomato juice, black tea, etc.) before drinking it would generally be more his speed, with any biting reserved for the arm of a ready and willing donor whom he already knows well. If he gets bitey especially on IC unwilling Sleepers (with willing players!), this could be a Bad Sign (ie. that Corruption is setting in). And as he'll join the Hunt on occasion, to collect specimens as well as to satisfy his sadism, he'll be manufacturing his own biohazardous Molotov cocktails crafted from his blood, in order to disorient his prey (we advise any hunting companions to wear Plague Doctor masks or something just as protective, especially if there's more than one Beast in the area).

The Player

• Player Name: Ref
• Player Age: 44
• Player Contact: PM to this journal
• Permissions: Here.

Link to your reserve for this character: Here.

Link to Character 1 overall AC: https://deeringtonhall.dreamwidth.org/6597.html?thread=3262917#cmt3262917

Hatchet
Small First Aid Kit
Charcoal
Flint
Fishing Line + 1 Fishing Hook
Binoculars
Harness for Rock Climbing
Belay Device
Carabiners
Water Purifier

[Written longhand in a precise hand, in a moleskine-style journal]

“I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more” - Franz Kafka: The Castle

You had me read this when we were young. I found it dense and its twists interminable, but I spoke then with the arrogance of youth. However, this line returned to my memory, perhaps shaken loose when the need for it arose. Perhaps I am dreaming of this place where I have awakened. Perhaps those who sought to thwart my work and their own salvation have trapped me in this dream. Perhaps these scenes play in my mind as lie unconscious on the sand far below the old man's windows. Perhaps I lie sedated in an enemy stronghold, dreaming of this world, or with my mind and senses diverted by some highly immersive virtual reality simulation.

Or perhaps, it is all real. There are boundaries to this place, though it would appear that these lines are drawn by the hand of the supernatural, something that our world had often proved to be more often the craft of science sufficiently advanced, rather than the workings of beings only our imaginations could grasp for a brief moment before they slipped away. Perhaps it works in the opposite direction, and what we thought the work of science was the work of the supernatural that we parsed as scientific. I've since applied my energies to reading and researching what I can find on the matter, and both the library and the town's immigrant inhabitants, what they term 'Sleepers' have offered a bountiful harvest of knowledge.

Though the realm experiences the influence of other entities, One power in particular seems uppermost, one known as Julia Sodder, described as a young girl, the offspring of a human father and a mother from an elder race. The realm does bear the fingerprints of a child's imagination, albeit a child possessed of a great intellect and imagination, a maturity beyond her years, but still a child, by all accounts

It was autumn when I fell asleep in our world and it is autumn as I awaken here, though rather than melancholy November, it is September, and a halcyon one at that. They say this town lies somewhere in Maine, though somehow, it seems a Maine one step removed from the true land of the pointed firs. The golden leaves bear a gilded coat; one might easily think them a new hybrid, but the coating seems a gift from the powers in this place.

The vintage version of Halloween, so different from the dark and bloody and ghostly versions described in the lore of Samhain, has come over the town: lanterns stand before the homes of the Sleepers, either the oiled paper variety or the more traditional carven jack o'lanterns. These lent some comfort and guidance in the unusually dark nights that fell over the town, but with an added effect: around their circle of comfort and light, one might well see the shades of the departed. I thought I beheld your face in the light of one, but I soon found the features belonged to another, more ethereal visage than yours. At other times, I beheld the face of that bête-noir who held his wrath over us, the last face I desire to see.

The shops have stocked a supply of those "Goosebumps" books, childlike tales, but shiver-inducing for their intended audience. I wonder if Miss Birkin ever read them again after living something far more real and horrifying. But they seemed to take on lives of their own, quite literally. I saw things that had come up from the covers and pursue the readers, including a medieval-garbed executioner pursuing a library worker. The drive-in movie theatre was not spared the same effect: I saw someone pursued down a street by a flock of birds after a showing of Hitchcock's The Birds, and a woman on foot fleeing from a horde of zombies after Night of the Living Dead. At least a stranger in a black Lincoln came to her aide, letting her in before driving over the undead pests. Also, the local roller derby hosted a Halloween party, a family affair, but the derby itself proved amusing: the players transformed into cartoonish creatures of the night: werewolves, vampires, mummies, killer clowns (yes, a flash back to the urban legends of the 1980s), and of course, zombies. When you've seen and researched the actual creature, any representation pales in comparison.

In the face of these chummy autumn delights, the elder Sleepers continually warn the neophytes "October is coming, prepare yourself". The halcyon scenes, contrasted with these warnings, are enough to cause a cognitive or perhaps emotive dissonance, but we both know that I am immune to that. Is this a test of the spirit or a celebration of the fading of the season before the darkness closes in? To use a well-worn phrase, time will tell. I will remain vigilant, even while maintaining a facade of contentment, the polite if darksome stranger newly arrived and dipping a hand into the harvest-tide celebration. But the golden light never completely dispels the last traces of the shadows.