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Drainage man

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First name:  Starts with a D...

Surname: Starts with a T...

Monicker(s): The Man in The Drains, Drainage man, Drainy, Drain

Race/ species: Clump of moist hair possessed by a vengeful spirit

Gender: Male.

Age: Unknown but has been haunting  drains for at least four years.

Occupation: None.

Alignment: Chaotic neutral 


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Appearance/ physiology: 


Drainy’s physical body  is primarily comprised of wet matted hair held together into a roughly humanoid shape by that special gunk you find in shower drains, trace remains of blood, and ectoplasmic matter. On the front of what passes as his head is a pale, hole-ridden plate resembling a shower drain cover. This plate is made entirely of flexible ectoplasm and can be bent and squished as Drainy squeezes through narrow spaces. Every single hole of this plate serves as eyeholes, unblinking but twinkling with an odd vigor. Loose strands of hair fall over and cling to their face plate.

The number of digits on his extremities vary but usually number at 2-3 for convenience. The thicker the strand, the easier it is to control. However, too many different appendages is, of course, confusing to consciously control for a ghost that can barely remember their own name.

Through the hair, one may spot flashes of red - the dried blood of a dying man which forms the “heart” of this being.

Typical Attire: Naked in the drains but will don a dirty oversized raincoat and black rain boots when traversing outside of the drainage system.


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Personality: Although Drainy was born from a thirst for vengeance, he does not remember who (or what) caused his death aside from the fact that he died cursing powers above. All he recalls of his life are his initials (D.T), the fact that he was a dude, and vague recollections of various moments spent with faceless friends and family. As such, all the bitterness and hatred that holds together this spirit ends up being directed at ...anything. He is simply an angry little mess.

Distrust and skepticism, especially towards religious organisations, dominates his disposition towards others. Drainy does not make friends. Doesn’t matter that maybe he might want a few… but he would never admit that! Never! 

Drainy believes in divine powers, gods and demons, and he will try to pick fights with them if possible. Not a wise choice, but then again he literally does not have a brain. When given something to be angry towards, reasonable or otherwise, he loses whatever common sense he has and tends to act brashly. That and his pettiness knows no bounds. When calm, however, he does appear to have some sense of strategy and often plans out his haunts beforehand.

Despite his openness in expressing anger, Drainy has difficulty expressing other emotions. To show sadness or remorse is to show weakness, or so he believes. And thus Drainy bottles up all his emotions into a molotov cocktail of feelings that he throws when provoked. Of course, that's not exactly his kneejerk reaction to all other beings dead or alive. He has a soft spot for bugs and smaller critters.

Likes: Dark, narrow spaces. Bugs. Piano music.

Dislikes:  Blinding light. Dry spaces. High temperatures. If you pee in the shower, he will personally strangle you to death.

Abilities: Flexible and able to squeeze through tight spaces. Able to form additional prehensile appendages of hair. Already dead and thus cannot be killed, only exorcised. Can reform out of any wet clump of hair. Crawls and slides very fast.

Weaknesses: Easily flustered by nudity (which sucks when one haunts bathroom drains). Weak kicks and punches. Clumsy feet. Stench can easily be detected from 2 metres away. Flammable. Overly rash at times  


With each drop of blood dripping down the hair-clogged drain, his consciousness had faded. However, his emotions did not. Face down on the cold damp tiles of a bathroom with a blade (or was it more?) in his back, they only grew- fear, desperation, regret, and anger. 

With well-timed sermons and empty promises, they had wasted his time. And now, he was wasting away his life. All for the approval of a deity that would never smile kindly upon them. The same deity revealed before him as his vision faded, grinning back down at him as his life literally went down the drain.


But by whom? 

Faces were blurred, voices distorted, pain was sharp.

Along with his soul and along with his blood, his grudge left the flesh.  Down the drain. Into the dark confines. Eventually preserved in a motile prison of blood and hair - an empty husk of who he was filled with lingering resentment.

Current goal: To find who or what killed him as well as to fulfill whatever new grudges ends up holding along the way.



Equipment: A plastic knife and fury. A lead pipe, 1.2 metre in length, that he uses as both a weapon  and a place to stuff himself into when needed

Inventory: Indefinite number of cockroaches that live inside him. Chunks of mould.



Edited by garlictonic
added info

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