Harrison Graves

➤ BACKGROUND (child / teen)
Harrison Graves was born into a small town. Growing up, he had a mundane childhood with the exception of his mother's absence, who was deemed unfit for parenthood by a case involving the mistreatment of her children. Custody was given to their working dad who they were raised by from then on, and for the most part, he grew up a bit troubled, but happy.➤ BACKGROUND (young adult)
Harrison had always been a man for the sciences, especially medicine. After graduating from college early with a concentration in biomedical engineering, he pursued his master's degree to make a difference in the field, but when that didn't pan out, he settled for a job as a professor much like his father, and for a time, he was content with what he'd accomplished.➤ BACKGROUND (middle-aged)
Harrison transferred to the Los Lunares University where he and his coworkers pulled some shady, but well-intended research. Not wanting a bad streak among their ranks, they were exiled for their endeavors. Sometime after, he sent in an application for a magic license, and the governing powers of Ramsgate approved his request in return for indentured servitude.➤ BACKGROUND (recent times)
Harrison begrudgingly relocated to the adjacent backwoods town of Rowanwick to work as a library guardian on behalf of Ramsgate, and the few friends he had followed. After settling, they put their combined knowledge both mundane and magical to good use for the town, but the past had a way of catching up. This time, it came in the form of an unlikely commission.

➤ SAMPLE POST UNOInsects chirping and dancing among the concrete ruins of capitalism signaled the arrival of dusk. For some reason or another, Harrison imagined that the afterhours of Deep Dish Diner in Los Lunares would’ve been more lively, but nope – not at all. That was fine, though. As one might have imagined, a man with the last name of ‘Graves’ didn’t do ‘lively’ very well.Nighttime was meant for reading, obviously. A pair of rectangular reading glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, looking down at the first book in a two-part series that he’d probably read a dozen times over, just to relax in the familiarity of it all if nothing else.Harrison already knew how it’d all end. The woman that fell through the mirror would end up with the lovable young man that brought her through the multiverse by accident.A story with a happy ending? Imagine that.The waitress approached the bar counter. “What can I get’chu, hun?” she asked.Country-fried steak? Chicken with gravy? Grand slam hamburger? None of these happened to appeal to his tastes at the moment, given the string of missing-turned-mutilated persons he’d had been seeing on the flyers for the past few weeks. One of them, the smiling face of a brunette lady with soft eyes, even haunted the exit.Harrison took one more glance at the menu and exhaled through his nose, trading any convictions he may have had about a diet for a breath of air. “A caramel blend coffee.”With a nod, she jotted down the request and pinned it to the dwindling roster of orders before taking her leave to attend elsewhere.In retrospect, a caramel coffee probably wasn’t the best item to choose if he didn’t want to raise his cholesterol, but that one sweet tooth had other plans. The drive from Rowanwick to Los Lunares may not have been particularly rigorous – filled with ghastly eyes peering from the treeline, yes – but he’d be damned if he did so without getting something good out of it.For once, things were okay.People came and went. Few lingered, likely weighed down by their own troubles or perhaps simply enjoying a blend near the witching hour, both of which he’d become rather accustomed to on his own time. Harrison casually flicked a page between his fingers, his gaze fixated on the material of his mental escape as he waited.The true problem? Things were not okay. In fact, things were so completely not okay that no one seemed to notice the glaring problem coming from the depths of the fog outside.

➤ SAMPLE POST DOSUnder nightfall, it hunted. Like lightning, it struck. As the darkest day of the year crept further from its hole and upon man, so did the monsters that hid beneath its belly. Heavy footfalls echoed down the increasingly empty streets, followed by the rush of crisp autumnal winds carrying the faint chorus of thunder. Some would've called it ominous. The man known as Harrison Graves, however, found it far more terrifying.Shallow gasps intermingled with a light pattering of rain, each of their steps sending an upheaval of grimy water, but dirtied boots were the least of his worries as his partner got snapped into the air like a ragdoll. Any pleas or screams she may have had lingering on the tip of her tongue were quickly silenced as a sickening splatter of crimson wetted the pavement.No time to care nor any inkling of pity for the woman was present. With an increased drive to survive, the man rushed past a fallen street light, which had the unfortunate effect of leaving whatever followed in the dark, its winged shadow beating furiously for blood.Up ahead lied an abandoned fishery – the designated safehouse for his people (although he loathed to call them such) and their endeavors. “Iron!” the man blurted, arms flailing and seemingly insane as he made his approach. “It doesn’t like iron!”Fortunately, someone heard him. Unfortunately, they didn't listen. One of the guards, a boorish man of impressive size, slipped out from behind one of the old delivery garages. A war cry bellowed from his throat, loud enough to rival the excessive number of shots that cracked through the night at a near-invisible foe.Harrison took this opportunity to dive inside the relative safety of the fishery just as his meathead friend laid his eyes on the last light he’d ever see. Neither tooth nor claw saw to his end, but rather a brilliant beam of lightning. Whoever he was mattered about as much as his smoldering remains did now.The lone survivor of the ordeal slumped against an old crate and clutched at his heart, chest heaving as he attempted to regain his bearings. As good luck would have it, he wasn’t alone. “Anyone got a brain cell left?!” Harrison wheezed, eyeing the menagerie of allied faces – some of which were monstrous – between breaths. “I want every rusty nail and rod pulled out and shoved down that thing’s throat, and–!”Something of a coughing fit hacked its way up his throat – a testament to just how not-used to all this extraneous activity the man was. “–You!” he continued, pointing a finger at the odd woman out. “The boss seems to think you’re worth something, so let’s put that to good use. Bring it down,” he commanded.