User Profile

~~Please Note: I am not David Ellefson nor do I have any contact with him. This blog is purely for the Going Underground RP community. ~~~

Name: David “Junior” Ellefson

Original Location: Los Angeles via Minnesota and New York.

Mutation: Mix of Surma (Hellhound) and Cambion

AIM: rosesaremanic

Background story:

The virus hit while David was recovering in hospital from what he'd described as self inflicted injuries. A car crash, that's what had caused the three broken fingers, a fractured wrist, two cracked ribs and numerous cuts and bruises. But, despite his blatant lying, something he'd never been great at, he knew the doctors knew differently.

Rapidly, the hospital had filled as civilians and staff alike sought out medical help for an illness that knew no cure other than death or life-changing mutations. With a hospital bill that was rapidly growing and injuries that seemed to be healing, David had discharged himself in the hope that he could find loved ones before the inevitable end hit him. On returning to the ramshackle house he'd shared with his band, he found it empty: no note, no messages, nothing. Just an empty house. With a sickness beginning to take hold, David had grabbed what he could before heading to the freeway.

It was a few days into his journey, that the first part of his transformation happened. A dog, a huge black Labrador, that had been keeping him company, turned and attacked him, sinking its teeth into his leg. From there, the virus had taken hold, streaking his light hair with black and forcing it to grow thick and longer than it already was.

For months, he walked and hitched, going from town to town, looking for information and finding none. He revisited old venues and haunts, many boarded up and abandoned, hoping that maybe, the person he was seeking had passed through there. David had hoped that somewhere along the way Dave would have left him a message, a sign perhaps, that he was looking for him and thinking about him. But wherever the fiery redhead had disappeared to, it hadn't been the places he visited.

Finally, after a journey that may have taken him through nearly every state, he arrived in New York. The survivor ships weren't leaving so often now, most people having gotten to where they needed to go. He pleaded and begged until he managed to secure a place on a rusting cruise liner that was heading for London. The journey took longer than it should have and, while on board, David found himself sharing a bunk room with a shaman called Nyht. Through the journey, the two talked about their experiences although David kept the true nature of his journey a secret. One dark night, while they were sitting on the deck, staring at the stars, Nyht asked David if he could do something for him, something that would help him on his journey. Agreeing, David sat quietly as strange words were chanted and an odd drink mixed up. The drink, an odd taste of aniseed and strawberry, had passed his lips before settling in his stomach. David didn't know what had happened and really couldn't feel a change but he thanked the shaman all the same. That night, his sleep had been tormented by lurid, twisted dreams. Dreams of sex and pain, not unlike what he'd experienced while in the band. But this, this was different. It wasn't him taking it, it was him giving it. Morning dawned and David looked in the mirror with a renewed sense of confidence, whatever having changed in the night scratching at his head. He needed to fuck someone and it didn't matter who.

A few days later and the ship docked, the survivors free to find their way around London. Despite the raging sex drive, he found himself checking into a processing point in central London. After 2 weeks, he received a message:

Please come to Leicester Square – Moonlight's Bar – someone's waiting for you.

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