“You may call me Master Kil, Mr. Kil or Sir...Nothing else.”
Oh, call him old fashioned but he was a stickler for manners. And he’d been nothing but polite this whole conversation but, when it came to the name by which he should be addressed, he spoke with a firm insistence. That’s where he drew the line, especially with slaves. But frankly, it didn’t much matter to Kimoon who someone was. Only the Devil himself could call him by his first name and live to tell the tale.
Henry didn’t like to admit he was lost, but he knew he was.
Being able to read would probably help, and his goal had been just to go out and get some peanut butter. But instead, he was here, standing in the middle of the sidewalk and trying to figure out which direction he was supposed to go. He normally wouldn’t stop someone, but he was desperate. “I…” He held his hand up slightly. “Where do I go… to get peanut butter? The store… You can buy it at.” What was it called anyway?
's funny how...almost running into someone will force a person to stop and interact. Like, precicesly in this case. Kimoon had seen the man meandering in the middle of the sidewalk. Or rather, his eyes had registered but his mind was far too busy with whatever series of texts appearing on his phone. So of course, before he could take the proper measures not to cross this man's path, he nearly ran into the outstretched hand. And though Kimoon had very much been in the wrong, he looked at the wolf with very annoyed eyes.
"Any one of these stores sell that disgusting spread. Can't you tell?"
Warily, the witch’s eyes settled on the other. Sitting on her cot, Hugging her knees to her chest, was how she spent a lot of her time, watching passerby. Slowly, she tilted her head. If it weren’t for the brand, perhaps she would be able to see more clearly. “I’d say penny for your thoughts, but…” One arm uncurled from her body so that it could wave at the empty cell. “Offer stands, though, as much as it can.”
“Poor thing...You don’t even have a penny to give.” Hearing the soft voice, Kimoon turned so that he was facing her properly. And though he spoke just as lowly, his words didn’t inflect with any form of real sympathy. In fact, the tail end sounded a bit smug. It matched the little smirk that flashed on his lips before his face again resumed a sort of neutral sternness. And as for the invitation for a seat...No, not in this suit. So, Kimoon lingered near the door, hands in the pockets of his slacks.
( SEO KANGJOON, MALE, 1350, BISEXUAL ) Crown Point’s creatures are incredulous forces. Did you see KIL KIMOON within the city limits? They’re a DEMON who has been a MASTER In Crown Point for FIFTY years. They’re enticed by BONDAGE, SADISM, TOTAL SUBMISSION and are known to be METHODICAL and RUTHLESS. Brace yourselves.
[NAME] KIL KIMOON (Last name, First name)
[AGE] 26 (1350, born sometime in October 669 AD)
[HEIGHT] 183 cm (6 ft.)
[HERITAGE] Korean (Based out of Seoul, South Korea)
Kimoon was born the bastard son of a general during the reign of the Silla Kingdom on the Korean peninsula. His father, ever the practical soldier, recruited his love child, training him in the art of Korean swordsmanship, sharpening him into a nameless shadow that could do his bidding. He dispatched political opponents, foreign enemies and anyone his father thought needed quieting. Though Kimoon had a great deal of respect and fear of his father, there was no bond of love between them. He prided himself in being strong, strong enough to act alone in these gruesome assignments but he would only be truly satisfied with the death of one person: his father. Kilmoon eventually did accomplish this end. He lived as a fugitive for some years before he was captured, tried and beheaded.
His journey through the afterlife was arduous. As a young man on earth, he had committed many sins, the blood of countless innocents stained his sword. His atonement was cruel, unusual and everlasting -- or so it seemed. Wicked is as wicked does and in all his wickedness, Kimoon had developed a very specific set of skills. Not even Satan himself would let those go to waste. Now, he walks the land of the living once more. Serving an overlord far crueler than his general father had ever been.
As a disguise, he took on the identity of an apparent nobody, a lowly salaryman trapped in a desk job with no escape. The world had not been as changed as he thought. And thought the battlefield looked different, war was war. He began trading and manufacturing arms, using his supernatural connections to climb the ranks of the industry. He now sits as head on a board that controls several factories and corporations all concerned with ensuring the world still has means to wage war. He’s not necessarily enthusiastic about the business but it affords him a luxurious lifestyle and the freedom to carry out the bidding of the Lord of Darkness.
Connections
Other supernatural creatures masquerading as businessmen
Possible distant descendants
Soldiers, courtesans, royalty and others who were born during the Silla era in Korea
