Henry Chessure

Near all survivors of the virus would have been thought unreal back in the old world, but Henry Chessure is perhaps more reminiscent of a monster from some fae tale than a hero from some comic book, with a smile too wide, full of teeth too sharp, and misshapen, shifting eyes that seem to glow in the dark.

Provided Chronicle
Once upon a time, in an age apparently human, there lived a man. A man by the name of Johnathan Matthews. Johnny looked much of a decent sort; he was tall, buff, tan, with well-mannered and short brown hair, with blue-green eyes. He had friends, he dated a goodly share of women, he partied, and he was set to join the family business and work toward taking it over. His father was a well-to-do lawyer with a large firm; his mother was loving, loyal, and attentive; his brother was a likewise good man with whom he got along very well, typical familial issues and mostly minor fights aside.

Johnny was not just a good man. Many of Johnny's friends were drug addicts. He stole his first girlfriend from his best friend, and pinned a neighborhood arson on the same man's brother. He had minor penchants for theft and arson, he helped friends evade the police, and he fought dirty.

Johnny wasn't without moral guidelines, though. Most importantly, he once rushed into a burning building - one decidedly not of his own devicing - to save a child. Whatever his reason, lost to time, he took it upon himself to save her, and remedy her newfound loneliness.

He brought her to a hospital, or rather, to an ambulance. She was glad for it, naturally, but denied the assertion that she was alone in the world. It seemed her cat had been out when the house caught fire, and she insisted she would introduce them. So, one day, he went to introduce her to her new family, meet the fabled feline, and say goodbye for now.

That day, with no warning, and for no reason at all, Johnathon Matthews and everyone he ever knew died.

Personal Affections
If ever questioned, about its life in the old world, it will start in on a tale about one man named Johnathan Matthews. If asked about its relation to Johnathan Matthews, however, it will claim to have "never met a John".

If asked for the time or the date, it tries to provides an answer probably relevant to a party involved in the conversation, but almost never the current time or date. On the same vein, if asked for its birthday, it references the date the virus broke out, but if asked for its age, it references a date that has passed far too long ago for the answer to realistically be the desired answer.

It tends toward wandering, though any real destination is unclear. It has expressed sympathy towards the idea that a dictatorship is necessary to save the "human" race, but it has just the same expressed some obsessive, even inhumane, affectations towards some ideal of Justice.

It sometimes claims to act solely on request, which might also explain its undecided nature.

It does not consider either itself or the general remnants of the human race to be properly human, however. Whether this can be considered one of its flashes of insight, general madness, or even just stating the obvious is entirely up to opinion, naturally.

Faculties and Capabilities
At times, the feats it is capable of seem almost without end. It favors certain things over others, however, and emotions and inner turmoil put limits on what it can viably perform at any given time.

Its gifts compliment each other extremely well, to the point where it can be difficult to determine which one is responsible for a given course of action. Others are obvious pieces, such as if it grows limbs or induces hallucinations, which seem to be actions not completely under its control.

It will occasionally try to blend certain windows of opportunity, but the more attentive its prey, the less this occurs, for it is as much a chance for anyone else. It also makes frequent use of such situations to arm itself, with abominable points and blades, alongside its monstrous attachments and additions. It likes to toss them about.

No matter how smart or stupid it appears, it seems to be bound a more whimsical ruleset than most, so any attempts to engage for long periods on a sceintific subject or feat of engineering fall short. However, if asked to perform a certain manner of construction or assembly, the resultant object may be wholy different, in size, effect, composition, and any other quality or quantity, from the parts provided.

Whatever obsurdities and physical violations it is prone to doing tend to happen out of range of other intelligent senses. Whether this is a result of personal preference or a technical limitation is uncertain.

Somewhat reminiscent of certain breeds of felid, it can move incredibly swiftly over short distances, but is reluctant to make prolonged chase.

A strong heart, attentiveness, and good friends would go far in attempts to fell the fiend, as well as the shonen-esque adventures the party in question is almost certain to affect.