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Beauty is truth, truth beauty;-- that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
"The club? That wasn't what you went to school for was it?" Bailey asks Gale with confusion. "Didn't think you were the business sort of guy...."
There are likely very few people who remember Gale as he was when he first arrived in Haven: A meek and entirely forgettable young man, pursuing a Bachelor's in Ancient Religions at Blackfield Technical College. Sure, there were some rumours regarding shadier dealings around his part-time job at The Old Tiflis Tavern and the occasional strange graveyard rendezvous, but his post-graduation rise to prominence could only have come out of left field.
Nowadays Gale is known as the sole manager of the town's strip club, with a penchant for funereal silence that some find to be rather unsettling. The Haven Courier has named him the hottest catch in town for a few months running, just about anyone who's anyone knows the worth of being on his good side, and the rumours that those less-than-legal dealings have followed him to the club are entirely unsubstantiated.
"Gee, Mister," the little boy says up to Gale, stepping towards him and looking up at his face. "You're awfully handsome. I hope I look like you when I grow up."
A stammering wreck who had enrolled in Blackfield Technical College at the behest of a ghost, Gale at first was hardly a blip on the Supernatural Community's radar. As in his mundane life, his rise to power has been nothing short of meteoric. By the end of his first college semester, he had come to serve as The Directorate's bloody Left Hand. By the end of the second, word had begun to spread that if you needed someone gone and you had the cash, a certain college student was more than willing to make it so. By the time he graduated? Well...
A prodigious sorcerer and skilled swordsman, Gale has positioned himself as the House of Odin's champion in Haven, and word of his deeds has slowly begun to spread beyond. Among the arcane Circles he is known as the man who drove the Black and White circles to war, and thereby stole their power. In Rhagost the people recognize their border lord as an ill-tempered zealot. He is best known in Hell, however, where the brutality of his reign has shown him to be little better than the Hellish Block Bosses which District 82's citizenry sought to escape.
Rachel sulks as she reflects on Gale's wisdom, coming out of the bushes as a trio of griffons pass by. "That's really fucking fatalistic of you, Godi."
Gale has sworn himself to serving the Norse Gods. To kill those who will not convert, to convert those who do not wish to be slain. Ruthless and, some say, quite a bit more sadistic than he needs to be, the man will stop at nothing to see his task through. Thankfully for humans and weaker supernaturals, he is pragmatic enough to ignore lesser threats and often cautious enough that he is slow to act.
By dint of his position at the head of Ymir's Host, he has been named Haven's Godi, a word roughly translating to both chieftain and priest. Though the people of Haven do not treat him as their ruler (yet, anyways...), he takes this position just as seriously. That he takes affront to threats to their sleepy little town is merely a by-product of this; The man does not believe in collateral damage, after all, and so long as you don't serve the wrong Gods and are willing to pay his (often steep) price, his magic could still be on your side.
Of course, there are underlying motives to the zealotry and rapid accumulation of power. A place among the einherjar is only Plan B. Rarely spoken aloud is Gale's true desire: A seat at the All-Father's table. Godhood.
His reign over earth would be a kind and benevolent one. There would be no war, no hunger, no strife; Only endless devotion to the world's sorcerous protector.
Name: Gale Renfield Intro: a gaunt, pale and raven-haired guy Birthdate: October 13, 1992 Age: 26 Archetype: Demigod Society: Ymir's Host Subfaction: Black CircleHouse of Odin Occupation: Management - Spook's Strip Club? Sins: Pride/Wrath/Greed