The Character Back Story Episode

Panel 1:Full-bleed action splash: Roy, a young scruffy guy in a wrinkled WereHouse work shirt, is mid-stumble on a loading dock, arms windmilling, a massive road case tipping toward him. His face is a mask of wide-eyed panic. Behind him the WereHouse loading bay looms — shelves of AV gear, cables everywhere, a green haze drifting from the far corner where Evil Forklift sits idle. Gritty Queens street visible through the bay doors.

Narrator:“Roy.”

Panel 2:New panel: a road case is crashing Roy but smiling and giving a “thumbs up”. The crew is laughing

Narrator:““Classic Roy!””

Panel 1:Small rectangular panel: a dumpster outside a Queens bodega at night. A tiny bundle is wedged between the dumpster and the brick wall. A handwritten cardboard sign taped to the dumpster reads 'BODEGA' in marker.

Narrator:“Roy was abandoned at birth. Found in a dumpster outside a bodega in Queens.”

Panel 2:A heavyset, kind-faced older man in a flannel shirt — Roy's adopted dad — kneels in front of a young boy Roy, maybe eight years old, tying his sneaker. The dad smiles up at Roy with obvious affection. Roy looks down at him with a goofy, gap-toothed grin.

Narrator:“His adopted dad was a kind, fumbling man who did his best.”

Panel 3:Teen Roy, lanky and awkward, sits on a curb alone. Two larger kids walk away laughing, one of them pointing back. Roy holds a crumpled paper bag lunch and stares at the ground. His expression is dejected but not broken.

Narrator:“He got bullied in school. A lot.”

Panel 4:A rapid series of three tiny inset panels stacked vertically: Panel A — Roy in a fast-food uniform being handed a pink slip by a manager. Panel B — Roy in a hard hat, glazed eyes, clearly stoned, letting a stack of boxes fall. Panel C — Roy staring at a help-wanted flier on a telephone pole that reads 'HELP WANTED: THE WEREHOUSE' — his eyes wide, a slow smile spreading.

Narrator:“Fired. Fired again. Fired a third time. He loved smoking pot and dropping acid more then he cared for sweeping floors.”

Panel 5:Close-up on present-day Roy at the WereHouse, laughing genuinely at something off-panel, a cable slung over one shoulder, looking rumpled but happy. Jennifurr's arm is visible at the edge of frame, handing him a water bottle.

Narrator:“Roy charmed the crew with his good natured pluck and a tolerance for the supernatural that made his questionable IQ surprisingly easy to handle.”

Panel 1:Full-bleed action splash: Jennifurr, a muscular female werewolf in grease-stained overalls, crouches under the hood of a massive junked car in a scrapyard. Wrenches and car parts hang everywhere. She grins wide, a streak of grease across her cheek, one hand deep in the engine. Behind her: rows of crushed cars, rusted machinery, chain-link fence under grey sky.

Narrator:“Jennifurr.”

Panel 1:Young Jennifurr — a small werewolf pup in dirty coveralls — stands in the middle of a chaotic scrapyard, surrounded by a pack of larger scrapyard werewolves. She holds up a repaired engine part proudly. The adult wolves look impressed, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

Narrator:“Born in a scrapyard pack. She fixed everything in the lot before she was grown.”

Panel 2:Jennifurr behind a DJ booth in a dark club, headphones around her neck, one hand on a turntable, the other raised in the air. Colored stage lights sweep across her. The crowd below is a sea of supernatural creatures dancing. She looks completely in her element — fierce and joyful.

Narrator:“She moved to the city. Discovered a talent for DJing. Discovered she liked girls. And they loooved her ”

Panel 3:Jennifurr at the WereHouse, hauling an enormous road case single-handed with one arm, while simultaneously pointing at a speaker placement with her other hand. Roy struggles with a much smaller case in the background, nearly dropping it.

Narrator:“Stubborn, loyal. She carries the warehouse on her back.”

Panel 4:Close-up on Jennifurr's face at the bar — the Howling Pint visible behind her. She leans on the bar, a half-smile directed at a beautiful goth woman off-panel. Her expression is warm, confident, charming.

Narrator:“And she always finds time to charm her way into a woman's heart.”

Panel 1:Full-bleed action splash: Axel, a lean non-binary werewolf in a crisp tech-crew black shirt and headset, stands in front of a massive video wall displaying perfect test patterns. Arms crossed, expression imperious and smug. Around them: a chaos of tangled cables, confused crew members, and sparking equipment — all of which Axel appears completely unbothered by.

Narrator:“Axel.”

Panel 1:A grand, wood-paneled study. A young Axel, small werewolf in a stiff collar, stands before a long dining table lined with older aristocratic werewolves in suits. Axel holds up a hand-built circuit board. The older wolves sneer and turn away, noses in the air.

Narrator:“Axel comes from a long line of aristocratic, WASPY genius werewolves who disdained modern technology.”

Panel 2:Axel at a WereHouse tech station, surrounded by monitors, talking down to Roy who stands slack-jawed. Axel's finger is raised in the classic 'well actually' pose. Behind them, a monitor is on fire. Axel has not noticed.

“Axel: Well actually, Roy, the signal chain is— Roy : Axel. The monitor's on fire.”

Narrator:“Belittled for their genius. They returned the favor — generously.”

Panel 3:Axel at the same tech station, now calmly rerouting cables at lightning speed, fixing a show in progress. Their expression is focused and competent. Roy stands beside them, genuinely impressed, mouth open.

Narrator:“But when the show is in trouble, Axel always makes it go out on time.”

Panel 4:Close-up on Axel's face — smug half-smile, headset on, but eyes showing a flicker of genuine warmth directed off-panel toward Roy.

“Axel: Well actually… you did okay today, Roy.”

Panel 1:Full-bleed action splash: Gary, a cheerful translucent ghost in a 1920s-era newsboy cap and suspenders, floats above the WereHouse floor holding a massive clipboard and a spectral telephone to his ear. He beams with pure enthusiasm. Stacks of paperwork float around him in a ghostly halo. His Down Syndrome features are rendered with warmth and dignity, but don’t shy from highlighting his difference

Narrator:“Gary. The Down Syndrome Ghost. The WereHouse’s Leader and Spirit Guide ”

Panel 1:Black-and-white vintage panel style: young Gary in 1912 period clothes — short pants, suspenders — sitting at a school desk. Other children sit apart from him, turned away. Gary looks at the camera with a calm, open expression.

Narrator:“Born in 1912 with Down’s Syndrome but an abnormally high IQ. The world didn't understand Gary. They just called him different.”

Panel 2:Gary at a WereHouse desk stacked with ledgers and HR forms, scribbling calculations rapidly. A group of werewolves leans over his shoulder, pointing at his math, looking stunned and impressed.

Narrator:“The werewolves didn't notice his Down’s Syndrome. They just thought he was the smartest human they'd ever met.”

Panel 3:A dramatic panel: a speaker stack engulfed in flames. Gary stands in front of it, arms out, heroically trying to stop the fire. His expression is determined. The fire is very big. Gary is very small.

Narrator:“He died in a speaker fire. He came back. The WereHouse needed him.”

Panel 4:Gary floats cheerfully through a wall holding a clipboard, completely unaware that Roy on the other side of the wall is being chased by a rogue cable reel. Gary's ghostly glow is warm and golden. His smile is enormous.

“Gary : Roy! I have your HR paperwork!”

Panel 5:Close-up on Gary's face — warm, bright, genuinely happy. His translucent features glow softly. The expression is pure heart.

Narrator:“Pain alchemized into gold. That's Gary.”

Panel 1:Full-bleed action splash: Cadillac, a powerfully built werewolf in a cool leather jacket, toothpick perfectly placed in the corner of his mouth, leans against a road case with arms crossed. Around him: total WereHouse chaos — things falling, crew scrambling. He is serenely unbothered. His expression is effortlessly cool.

“Cadillac : Sounds like someone else's shift.”

Narrator:“Cadillac.”

Panel 1:A hazy, indistinct panel — like a half-remembered dream. The WereHouse crew stands in a circle. Jennifurr, Axel, and Roy look at each other, then at Cadillac, with a shared expression of confusion. None of them can place when or how Cadillac arrived.

Narrator:“No one remembers meeting Cadillac. He was just always there.”

Panel 2:Cadillac at the Howling Pint bar, perfectly at ease, raising a shot glass with one hand, toothpick still in place. He grins. Everyone around him leans in, charmed.

Narrator:“He has never lifted a finger in the warehouse. His aura keeps the shop at peace.”

Panel 3:Night scene: a dark NYC alley. Crime fighting Cadillac — identical to Cadillac but wearing a tiny, barely-concealing cowl and holding a baseball bat — stands over a cowering small criminal. The toothpick is still perfectly in place under the cowl.

Narrator:“At night, the Evil Mayor employs him to fight trivial crime and beat up low level tax cheats. In a tiny cowl. With a baseball bat. The bribes far outweigh the revenue saved. ”

Panel 4:Close-up on Crime fighting Cadillac's face — cowl on, toothpick perfect, expression completely blank and without remorse. The baseball bat rests on his shoulder. His eyes are calm.

“Crime fighting Cadillac : Nothing personal. It's just the law.”

Panel 1:Full-bleed action splash: Evil Forklift dominates the loading dock, massive and menacing, glowing green eyes wide and wild, Gadsden flag sticker gleaming on his chassis. A giant glowing green joint the size of a traffic cone smolders in his forks, trailing thick green smoke. He looks directly at the reader. The dock around him is abandoned — everyone has clearly fled. One lone cable is on fire in the background. He does not care.

Narrator:“Evil Forklift.”

Panel 2:New panel: Evil Forklift next to a Vitruvian man image. Eldritch and mystical symbols surround them. Powerful magic is emphasizing his power and ancient origin

Narrator:“Born at the beginning of time, Evil Forklift was once the powerful god of Manual Labor, who slowly lost power as the industrial age progressed! ”

Panel 1:A mythological-style panel — ancient stylized art depicting a glowing powerful god bent over a heavy machine, chains binding him to it. A female figure looms behind him, hand outstretched in a curse. The imagery is dramatic and symbolic. She is clearly chaining him for eternity to a forklift.

Narrator:“Cursed by a spiteful ex-lover. Forced to toil in the form of a forklift. For eternity.”

Panel 2:Evil Forklift in a 1970s warehouse, green eyes visible even then, a vintage glowing joint in his forks. Workers around him look exhausted. A bumper sticker on his chassis reads 'DON'T TREAD ON ME.' He looks exactly the same as always.

Narrator:“Many decades. The pain and lack of reading materials led him down the dark path to right wing politics!”

Panel 3:Roy on foot, hauling a massive road case up a loading ramp by himself, straining and sweating. Evil Forklift sits five feet away, green eyes half-lidded in bliss, green smoke curling from his exhaust. He is watching Roy struggle. He does not move.

“Evil Forklift : Supply side economics, kid. Work trickles down.”

Panel 4:Close-up on Evil Forklift's giant glowing green eyes — mischievous, lazy, and deeply satisfied. The Gadsden flag sticker is visible just below them. A curl of green smoke drifts upward.

Narrator:“Comedic. Lazy. Vaguely wrong about most things. Absolutely essential to the plot.”

Panel 1:Full-bleed action splash: Mil the Bartender stands behind the Howling Pint bar, arms crossed, emitting a vivid purple glow that lights up every bottle on the shelf behind her. Around her, six drinks are mid-pour simultaneously — bottles floating, liquid arcing perfectly through the air — all without her touching anything. She looks directly at the reader with a small, knowing smirk. She is buxom with petite features, dressed in bar-keep black.

Narrator:“Mil the Bartender.”

Panel 1:A spectral Russian tavern in an old-world setting. A large translucent ghost made of vodka — literally — stands behind a bar. A young Mil sits on a barstool as a child, watching him work. The ghost-father looks proud. The tavern is warm and strange.

Narrator:“Daughter of a Russian Vodka Spirit and an alcoholic wizard. She was born behind a bar.”

Panel 2:Mil and Evil Forklift at the Howling Pint. Evil Forklift is parked beside the bar. Mil leans on the bar top looking at him with a complicated expression — half-fond, half-furious. Evil Forklift's green eyes are wide and dopey. A glowing green joint smolders in his forks.

“Mil the Bartender : You're impossible. Evil Forklift : Yeah, but you love it.”

Narrator:“On and off with Evil Forklift. Mostly off. Sometimes very on.”

Panel 3:Mil telekinetically flicks a full drink off the bar and directly onto a deserving patron off-panel. Her expression is perfectly deadpan. Her hands are behind her back. The purple glow around her is bright.

Narrator:“She never gets her hands dirty. That's the whole point.”

Panel 1:Wide shot: the Howling Pint bar, warm and alive with supernatural energy. The whole crew is filing in through the front door — Roy, Jennifurr, Axel, Gary floating above, Cadillac strolling last with his toothpick, and Evil Forklift rolling himself in uninvited. Mil stands behind the bar, arms crossed, purple glow lighting the whole room. The bar is full of supernatural patrons.

Panel 2:The whole crew lines up at the bar — Evil Forklift, Jennifurr, Axel, Roy, Gary hovering, Cadillac, and a few others — all on stools or floating. Mil stands behind the bar. Eight shot glasses rise simultaneously into the air, glowing purple, filled by floating bottles. The whole crew watches with grins.

Panel 3:Close-up on Roy's face — genuinely happy, shot glass raised, eyes bright, a huge goofy grin. The warm bar light glows on his face. He looks like he belongs here.

“Roy : Fan Service!”

Panel 4:Wide final panel: the entire crew throws back their shots simultaneously — Roy, Jennifurr, Axel, Gary (his glass phases through his ghostly hand but he tips it up proudly), Cadillac (toothpick somehow moved to the side), Evil Forklift (shot glass balanced on his forks tilting back), and Mil (not drinking, just watching with a smirk). Everyone's heads are back, glasses up. It's chaotic and perfect and warm.

Narrator:“The whole crew. All in one place. Don't get used to it.”