Powers All the powers a ghost has. He’s exceptionally good at sewing doubt among his targets. That little voice in their head that makes them doubt themselves, their friends, family, lovers. He vowed to Kristoph to never use her power against one of Zion, but townies are fair game.
Willis James Conrad. The name is completely made up. Or at least he thinks it is. He awoke in a farm in France over a hundred years ago, just laying face up under the sun in a field surrounded by wheat. He was dressed in clothing that was out of date and had a massive headache. He had no memory of who he was or how he got there. Thankfully the man who owned the small parcel of land (or at least worked and lived on it), found him and aided him. He drew him a bath and got him some clothes and food. A good god fearing man. Willis stayed there for a couple months while he ‘healed’. As it became clear his memories were not returning, he started to become aware of other things. The farmer was a perfect guinea pig for his growing abilities as he learned how to use them. Driving the man to suicide with his ‘whisperings’ were an unexpected side effect. He learned something.
Now, if you ask Willis, he is not a demon. A demon is such a nasty word- though he had met one or two others in his time who did use that moniker and he knew it applied to him as well, but he thought himself more a seeker of truth. Or creator of truth in some cases. He traveled around France for a bit before heading down to Italy. He kept finding himself drawn to churches and attended many services. It was strange. Perhaps in his former life he’d had a part in the church. Maybe even something as great as the inquisition. He’d never know.
Europe got boring, there were only so many places he could go and people he could mess with. There was also this pull to go farther way. So, at the turn of the century Willis set off for America. It was actually pretty easy to pass himself off as a member of the church, it was strange even. He knew procedures, rules, could practically recite the bible. Muscle memory maybe. Upon arriving in New York, he was invited to meet with the local clergy along with a few other priests and ministers he was traveling with.
New York was fun, huge, so many people compared to many places he’d been. But that was almost the problem. It was too big. Discord seemed to be it’s nature. Fights broke out and people dropped into paranoia, anger, hate, everything that was so fun to play with- all on their own. He was just watching, not doing. He felt his destiny couldn’t be fulfilled in the big city so he caught a train out west. On one of the stops he heard about a carnival that was in town and figured he’d give it a check out. The energy there was palpable. He could almost see places he could make a difference. As he wandered the carnival he was stopped by one of the carny’s. They saw his collar and said they’d lost someone recently- passed away from age. They wondered if he’d come the next Tuesday to maybe say a few words from god at a funeral for her. Willis agreed.
Shortly after, he was joining up. It was on a whim, but the place felt special and the chance to mess with so many people was something he couldn’t pass up. As with many who join up, he was given the rules and it became clear early on that he wasn’t the only one with gifts. Zion could be a good place for him to do gods work. He started just doing Sunday Mass and some general roustie work, but when one of the talkers got sick, someone talked him into doing a Bally. It was thrilling, having a captive audience. Soon, he was doing regular Bally’s and he found some shows were prime to whisper little doubts in peoples mind as they watched the shows.