Characters Dracula's Most Wanted

WhovianBeast · #1 Apr 28th, 2020, 09:37 AM

Here's where we'll keep track of the Player Characters

WhovianBeast · #2 May 2nd, 2020, 03:25 PM

Name: Maat
Player: Avner
Hero Points: 1 (3/19/23)
Physical description:
Country of Origin: Ancient Egypt

WhovianBeast · #3 May 2nd, 2020, 03:29 PM

Name: Anders, the Future Soldier
Player: AlphaZ
Hero Points: 1
Kind: Human
Physical description: short-cropped black hair, strong features, head-to-toe cyber armor
Country of Origin: the moon

Initiative: +2

Powers: high tech weapons and armor, drone assistant

Anders was born to save humanity. Which is kind of a lot of pressure. But there was never really a question of "if". In fact there were very few questions at all.

Like any human living in the 35th century, Anders was born and raised in a small community unit in the lunar base on the moon. However, while he was given a proper enough education, he was not destined to be a scientist or other mind-laborer as so many were before him. Even before he was born his fate had been decided. Anders would be a soldier.

Of course there's no real need for soldiers on the moon. There are no wars on that cold grey rock orbiting the earth. But they didn't plan to stay there forever. Vampires might have taken over the earth, but they weren't going to keep it. Humanity was preparing to take back their world, and Anders was going to be there when it happened.

His whole life carried this sort of glorious excitement, an air of "when the day comes". He learned all about the paradise on planet earth and spent his spare time in the library, staring at images from a world he'd never seen. One day he'd set foot on that great spinning ball of blue, and he'd clear the way for the rest of humanity to live there in peace and harmony forevermore.

At least, that was the story his parents told him. And his officers, as he went through rigorous physical and mental training. They had self-healing armor and fusion-powered weapons. They had energy shields and AI drones. What could stop them? What could possibly stand in the way of humanity's greatest achievement, the most poetic and beautiful story ever foretold?

Anders had a family. Parents and two brothers, one older and one younger. His older brother was in the program too. He shipped out first. The youngest might've joined the program too when he was old enough, but things didn't go like they said they would on the holovids. The war woke up a world of bloodthirsty vampires, and quickly they began to strike back.

New units kept getting sent out, but nobody who left ever came back. And they kept sending more. Though they tried to keep up spirits, bragging about how many vamps they'd kill on their first day, a weight hung over his unit as they finished training. They were constantly under bombardment. Every day was a new emergency. Waiting for their deployment began to feel like waiting for the guillotine.

Still, they had the energy shield. There'd been talk about a time gate, and he'd even been trained on the specific history around the origin of vampires. But much to the protest of Anders' commanding officer, the time gate had been put on ice. Anders and his whole unit, the last thousand trained invaders, would be sent to Earth in one week. They'd take back Earth or scorch it to ruin. That great spinning blue ball he'd been dreaming of his whole life. He wasn't ready to burn it all down.

He wasn't the only one.

While many still clung to the hope of survival on the moon, some knew it was only a matter of time. Called "futurists", these radicals believed the only hope of humanity now lay in the shuttered time gate program. If they could get even one soldier through to the past to stop the first vampire, everything could be prevented. But the technology was unproven, and the risks were great. Using the time gate would drain the power cells being used for the lunar energy shield. The moon would be defenseless.

Two such futurists were Anders' own parents. They had already lost their first son and were unready to send their second to his certain doom. And they didn't see any other future for their third. Anders knew how they felt, and he was torn on the subject. He'd been raised to invade. But it simply wasn't going to work. But rewriting history, and leaving the moon defenseless? It was no small thing to imagine. He kept his mouth shut about it, but he knew everything was coming to a head. Something was going to happen.

In desperate times people do desperate things. The futurists came by night. Not even Anders knew the plan until he was suddenly being whisked out of bed. There was sneaking, then there was gunfire. Soon he was standing before the time gate being suited up. It was all a blur as his commanding officer told him his mission: to stop the vampires at their very start. "Yes sir" was all he could answer as he stepped through the time gate and left behind his his parents, his brother, and a future that, if all went to plan, would never even exist. He exited in another place, in another time, and everything he'd ever known was over. Or, rather, had not yet begun.

PL 11, 165/165pp

Abilities 32pp

STRENGTH 2

STAMINA 5

AGILITY 2

DEXTERITY 2

FIGHTING 2

INTELLECT 1

AWARENESS 2

PRESENCE 0

Defenses 21pp

TOUGHNESS 5

DODGE 5

PARRY 5

FORTITUDE 13

WILL 9

Skills 11pp

Skill	Ability	Rank	Bonus
Athletics	STR 2	3	+5
Investigation	INT 1	1	+2
Perception	AWE 2	3	+5
Ranged Combat (guns)	DEX 2	8	+10
Technology	INT 1	4	+5
Vehicles	DEX 2	3	+5

Advantages 4pp
Diehard
Equipment 3

Blaster Pistol w/ laser sight Damage 5 (ranged, accurate 1), 12ep
Goggles 3ep
-Binoculars, Flare Goggles, Night Vision Goggles

Powers 97pp
Adaptive Weapon Easily Removable Device, 42pp
-Reconfiguration: Variable (attacks) 10 (Limited: Fort/TN saves; affliction, damage, weaken; Reduced Action), 70pp
--Default 1 - Assault: Damage (heat, plasma) 12 (Ranged, Multiattack, Secondary Effect, Improved Critical 2), 50pp
--Default 2 - Lockdown: Affliction (time; dazed > stunned > paralyzed) 12 (Ranged, Cumulative, Secondary Effect, Homing, Reversible), 50pp
--Default 3 - Aftershock: Damage (electricity) 10 (Ranged, Cloud Area) Linked Affliction (electricity; impaired > disabled) 10 (Ranged, Cloud Area, Limited Degree), 50pp

Adaptive Armor Removable Device, 23pp
-Reconfiguration: Variable (defenses) 4 (Limited: immunities), 24pp
-Reconstitution: Regeneration 5 (Noticeable: injury highlights, repair chime), 4pp

Adaptive Shield Removable Device, 15pp
-Cover: Advantage: Evasion 1, 1pp
-Damper: Protection 12 (dynamic), 13pp
-2pp alt: Deflector Enhanced Dodge 12 (dynamic), 12pp
-2pp alt: Interceptor Enhanced Parry 12 (dynamic), 12pp

Adaptive Muscle Memory 8pp
-Reconfiguration: Variable (advantages) 1 (Limited: combat, Reduced Action 2), 8pp

Fraia (Flying Robotic AI Assistant) Easily Removable Device, 9pp
-Advisor: Advantage: Luck, 5pp
-Database: Advantage: Well-Informed, 1pp
-Scanner: Advantage: Assessment, 1pp
-Translator: Comprehend (read/speak/understand all languages), 3pp
-Transport: Flight 5 (Platform), 5pp

Complications
Honor - Part of saving humanity is being a human worth saving.
Isolated - Since he's not from around here, he has no home, no resources, no friends (except Fraia).
Mission - Anders came back in time to stop the vampires. He has to complete his mission.
Out of Time - Anders didn't study this time window since he was expecting a different one. As a result he's a bit out of touch with current events.

WhovianBeast · #4 May 2nd, 2020, 03:33 PM

Name: Annie Dane Charlotte Rambles, alias The Conquistador
Player: Drachenspirit
Hero Points: 0 (4/4/24)
Kind: Human

Physical description: Standing at 5'6" tall, and weighing around 148 lbs, she's got tanned skin and an athletic build. Her toned muscular physique is from working on her hobby of machine works, and her short cut sandy blonde hair is thus colored from spending a lot of time outdoors.

Country of Origin: Mississippi - Near the meeting borderlines of Kanata, New England, Appalachia, and MississippiRiviera

Powers: Tech Build w/ Twists (Energy/Machine Controller)

Annie has always had a way with these newfangled things called machines. She's an inventor. She has come up with some unique things, but to date she hasn't created anything for anyone else. She has repaired lots of machinery, and always seems to know just what is wrong with any machine she touches; gifted is the term folks use when referring to her. Strangely enough, she's a bit of an eccentric, and the neat things she has created, she keeps to herself. Though she's been approached by lots of people, wealthy investors and business savvy people, to share the secrets of her inventions, or create them something similar, she hasn't shown any interest in this to date.
Annie was born and raised in Mississippi, not far from the border with Kanata. Her father was a traveling silversmith and actually owns a small mine. Her mother is a singer and entertainer who travels with her father, performing from city to city.
Once the couple realized that their daughter not only loved trains, but machinery in general, they settled down in a city in Mississippi. The quickly realized their young daughter was somewhat following in her father's footsteps, and was something of a tinkerer. Instead of putting a stop to what some would call silliness in this day and age, her parents fed their daughter's ingenious and curious nature. She could fix most any kind of device and troubleshoot most any kind of machine or mechanical workings. This didn't help her socially.
To this day, she's always dressed more functional that stylish,

creating a style all her own that just seems to add to her eccentric and odd reputation as some kind of genius inventor.

About a year ago, she had an idea when a few of her inventions helped her thwart a train robbery. She was traveling by train to go and test a fully enclosed helmet that she had invented to work underwater in a coal mine. She was quite certain it would work in any non breathable environment, but just wanted to be sure by testing it in the real world. She also had a long a new invention that she called, for lack of caring to think up a catchy name, Lightning Gloves.
When the would-be robbers tried to smoke out the guards car that led to the freight car where some gold was being carried, she donned her helmet, walked through the smoke, and quite literally shocked the thieves into submission.
The thrill from this was something she hadn't expected, but she knew she was hooked. She combined several of her inventions over the next couple of months to be contained in a suit that could do all kinds of fantastic things.
She stopped a bank robbery, took on a dozen fanatics that stole a Paddleboat, and even tracked down a cache of weapons stolen by a gang who were to sell them on the black market - fighting off several in the process.
When asked what she was called in her suited up fashion of fighting crime and injustice, she recalled stories she had been told by her father about their homeland. Tales of brave armored men who fought off the vampires so the people of their lands could escape so many centuries ago came to mind. And being told she was a descendant from one of those very men, she took the proud and almost forgotten name that they had called themselves and brought in back to life in her hero persona.
She is, "

The Conquistador."
Though it is clear that a woman is inside, only a few know who it is, and so far, her reputation hasn't caught up with the woman behind

the masked helm. All of this is thought to be not only incredible, but part of the genius of whoever is inside this suit. The secret is something only Annie knows, and it is something she is quite literally afraid to tell anyone. She fears that if people know, she'll be shunned at best, and hunted down and killed at worst. The secret is also the reason she can't share her inventions with anyone, or even sell any of them. So, she has to keep up the facade that she's just some genius and eccentric inventor who is tied up in their own thing and can't be bothered by others whims and wishes.

WhovianBeast · #5 May 2nd, 2020, 03:36 PM

Name Dumah
Player: Acathala
Hero Points: 1 (7/21/2024)
Kind Angel
Country of Origin Heaven

Physical description Dumah, in his human form, is a youthful Arab in appearance. curly black hair, skin complexion of olive, and kind brown eyes. Favouring simple white robes, or whatever what the local fashion is. This form was created for him by heaven, so he could act more effectively as Egypt's tutelary angel. Whilst fond of this form, as it lets him talk to ordinary people, as one of them he prefers his true form.
Dumah in angel form, is a tall and imposing man, with waist length blonde hair. His skin is as white as marble, and he has white European monk style robes, with a never used hood. He wears a plain silver breastplate over the robes, In his right hand, he wields his holy sword, a vision in silver, with a circular crossguard, wreathed in pale holy fire. He assesses people with azure eyes that seem to look into the soul. The four wings are multicoloured metallic colours of god, copper and silver feathers.

Powers: Holy flaming sword, flight, angelic health.

"Azrael! The angel of death of parties. Your summons quite killed the wedding party I was at. The poor wedded couple had quite a start." Dumah looked around at his superior. Any hope this was going to be anything other than bad evaporating quickly. Thank god Bastet had taken his hint. Azrael also had his especially grim expression, which to be fair, was a lot like his regular grim expression. However Azrael had been Dumah’s superior for a long time, and he could tell the difference.
"We know what you’ve been up to, Dumah. Mixing with the mortals. Flying around with Shu. Cavorting with Bastet. Conduct unbecoming of you." Azrael stated in an accusatory tone.
"That is a base canard! There has been no cavorting, not even a canoodle with Bastet. I’ve been getting to know the people I am supposed to be protecting, yes. That’s it. Perhaps you should incarnate as a human, and get to know them. Maybe at a party. Who knows, you may have fun, even accidentally." Azrael glared at him, and Dumah sighed. "Very well, archangel, why have you summoned me?"
The angel of death looked at him intently, like either he was assessing him, or expecting insolence. Then Azrael continued. "Dumah. You are to censure the Egyptian gods and kill the first born children of Egypt."
Dumah looked shocked and horrified once he heard what Azrael had said. His mind struggled with this, not wanting to understand it. Heaven couldn’t be serious, could. As he counted the number of children that would be affected, he had to stop when the number got too high. "I’m sorry and I ask this out of concern, but has heaven lost it’s mind?"
Azrael sneered at him. "The humans you claim to protect are sinful."
Dumah took a deep breath. "Some are, I won’t deny it." Then he broke into a grin "but some are absolutely brilliant! Look at the things they’ve accomplished. The pyramids! The colossus of Rhodes. The library of Alexandria, and the knowledge within! Poetry and philosophy! Art! Humanity has come a long way. Still have a long way to go, I grant you, but they all have such potential. If there’s something to inspire them, not something grinding their face into the dirt, with a foot on their necks. I beg of you, don’t do this."
Azrael looked at him incredulously."Dumah, are you forgetting about the Israelites?"
"Are you going to free all the slaves? Because if slavery is wrong for the Israelites, it’s wrong for everyone. You could free the slaves without killing the children. I doubt anyone could stop an archangel of death. Or we could do this by not resorting to violence. I could speak to the Egyptian pantheon.." Dumah knew instantly that he had said the wrong thing.
Azrael said forcefully. "We are sending a message."
The metaphorical blood in Dumah’s metaphorical veins ran cold. "I see. This is a statement. That we’re the biggest baddest bullies in the world."
Azrael tried to interrupt. "Your duty...."
Dumah cut him off."I have done my duty for God and Heaven, for almost as long as you, Archangel. Oh god, I did my duty." Dumah, said the last part with self disgust. "If you can’t understand why child murder is wrong, even if it’s ordered by heaven, then I weep for you and your victims. Know this, the world will remember this, and hate you for it."
Azrael was not one to be moved. "I offer you one last chance."
Dumah drew this sword, it igniting with holy flame, advancing on Azrael. For a moment Dumah thought he was going to attack him. Sanity regained him, and he realised he couldn’t defeat him. Someone would need to deal with the aftermath in Egypt. Cast his extinguished sword aside. "I will not do this. It is both immoral and evil."
Dumah barely registered his exile, the silence claimed him. Watches the archangel fly into the darkness, that would only be matched by the darkness of his deeds.

WhovianBeast · #6 May 2nd, 2020, 03:39 PM

Elena

Name: Elena Severnaya
Player: Shylocke
Hero Points: 2 (4/17/24)
Kind: Human
Age: 24
Country of Origin: Nadensk

Physical description: Elena is powerful woman and looks like one. Standing at 5'11" she has a sturdy build, a buxom chest and muscular physique. Her dark brown hair is just past her shoulders and occasionally worn in a single braid though often left free. Elena almost entirely dresses in functional or military clothing.

Personality: Elena is typically reserved and quiet, only saying the things that need to be said and leaving it at that. If something needs to be said, she is the type to speak up. Elena is slow to anger and equally slow to calm, when fully enraged (which thankfully has happened very little) is quite a sight to behold and tough to dissuade. She is ambitious and headstrong, often frustrated when others are slow to act or accept her reasoning. With those to whom she is familiar, Elena can be plenty jovial and boisterous with, but those people are few and far apart.

WhovianBeast · #7 May 2nd, 2020, 03:41 PM

Name: Emet Clay
Player: Phasmus
Hero Points: 5 (5/4/23)
Kind: Construct

Age: ???
Country of Origin: Atlantis
Physical description: Emet is a human-shaped magical construct, built from inorganic materials and given life through the application of powerful magics. He is comprised of an ornately inlaid metal casing riveted into place around the mysterious internal mechanisms that provide his animation. Unlike the rest of his finely crafted body his face-plate is a simple, curved metal sheet with plain round holes to accommodate the softly glowing crystalline structures that pass for his eyes. The difference in workmanship between his face and the rest of him suggests a slapdash repair at some point in his past. He stands just under six feet tall with a gaunt build that belies his high weight. He typically wears formal but concealing attire, making him difficult to identify on those occasions when he lets himself be seen.

Powers: As a construct, Emet is not subject to many of the needs or frailties of human biology. He is able to vanish and walk unseen among the masses of (potentially) criminal humans. His mind and senses are tuned to the task of identifying and tracking lawbreakers, including a supernatural comprehension of all languages. His hands are capable of producing a powerful and dangerous electrical shock.

Personality: Emet is very focused on what he considers his inbuilt purpose: the enactment of justice. However he is not emotionless or mechanical in his demeanor. He is sincerely disturbed by the suffering experienced by the victims of crime, and he considers most suffering to be the result of one crime or another. His frustration with humanity's tendency to deviate from the law is often expressed with bitterness and sarcasm. His lack of memory causes him very little concern overall, but he imagines that he must have come from a place with a more sensible legal system.

Because he is unable to lie Emet tends to speak very carefully. He avoids making concrete statements except in areas where he is very certain. He understands and uses figures of speech freely, but never risks ambiguity with them.

Emet generally obeys the letter and spirit of the law to the best of his ability, except where doing so conflicts with his innate moral sensibilities or hinders his efforts to enact justice himself. His respect for the privacy of others is vestigial at best. He has no compunctions about stalking and striking up conversations with complete strangers or lurking in private residences to interrogate potential witnesses. He is gradually learning to temper such direct approaches to achieve better results.

Emet didn’t get bored easily, but it was starting to happen now. He was sure he had the right office but its owner wasn’t keeping regular hours. He already knew everything that went on here. How many people had been hurt. How much money they’d given over to avoid being hurt worse. The names of the perpetrators, the names of the victims. He just needed to collect something a bit more concrete to get the wheels of justice moving. So he stood in the corner, feeling like another piece of furniture, waiting.

Eventually the man, the criminal, Mr. Lanzoni walked into his office. He was older and a bit pudgy. He didn’t look like the type to organize an extortion racket. But expecting people to ‘look the type’ was why juries needed so much evidence. He didn’t see Emet. Nobody would have. He sat down, took a bundle of bills from his most recent ‘charity drive’ out of his pocket and leaned over to unlock the cash box under his desk.

Emet moved forward silently and placed his hand on the back of Mr. Lanzoni’s neck. There was a bright spark at the point of contact and the smell of ozone filled the air. The extortionist began twitching uncontrollably as Emet shoved his face down to the desktop.

“Hi. I’ll be taking your ‘charity money’, your notebooks, keys to locker #54 on Yacht Street...” Emet’s tone was polite and matter-of-fact as he placed the various items into the pockets of his voluminous coat. He reached into the cash box and pulled out an antique silver pocket watch as he continued, “...and Mr. Armstrong’s watch over to the DA’s office later today. If he declines to prosecute you and your goons again I will have to take a more active role in the situation.”

Emet leaned in close so the metallic clicking that underlaid his voice was clearly audible to the spasming criminal. “That means I will, if necessary, do to you what you did to Mr. Armstrong. Do you understand?”

Mr. Lanzoni groaned, on the verge of passing out.

“Good enough. Keep your nose clean.”

Emet removed his hand and vanished into the hallway.

He didn’t like making threats like that. It felt perilously close to lying. But there was enough wiggle room, after all poor Mr. Armstrong had been through, that he wouldn’t have to murder anyone if it came down to it. It was never as easy to get into an office the second time around, so better to get the message across the first time if he could.

WhovianBeast · #8 May 3rd, 2020, 06:29 PM

Placeholder for monty

WhovianBeast · #9 May 3rd, 2020, 06:33 PM

Name: Okumura Naoko
Player: Boss Nadar
Hero Points: 1
Kind:Onryō (Undead)
Age: ???
Country of Origin*: Seiikin

Naoko is well aware of the effect her appearance has on others, and tends to remain quiet and out of sight as much as possible. As if to make up for this, she becomes an easily excitable and overly friendly chatterbox when around anyone unaffected by her unnaturalness. Though childlike in appearance, she has been "active" as an onryō for over a decade, and has the maturity of a woman in her late twenties. This can result in people treating her like a child, which she somehow likes less than being treated as a monster. There is only one man alive that can get away with calling her a little girl, anyone else had better prepare for things to get ugly.

She bears considerable remorse for all the people she's hurt before she learned to suppress her curse, and much of what she does is done in self imposed penance. She harbors no such guilt from the criminals she's killed, however, and takes a certain guilty pleasure in making the deserving suffer. She takes her work seriously, and has no time for trivialities like hobbies, but she does secretly envy musicians, having wanted to become a songstress growing up. She also misses being able to eat, having faint memories of delicious home cooked meals, but can no longer taste anything other than ash. She claims to no longer care that the people she helps flee in terror, but in truth it still stings every time, and though she would never admit it, she longs for even the faintest shreds of recognition.

While her vengeful curse is in full swing, she becomes nearly nonverbal, desiring neither communication nor cooperation. The only thing that matters is the kill, and ideally making it as painful as possible. At her core, Naoko under the vengeful curse is still Naoko, simply with every negative emotion multiplied a hundredfold. Thus, while she won't actively hurt anyone she cares about, she also won't care to help them. A single kill is all it takes to satisfy the dark curse, at least temporarily, but she certainly won't object to a buffet. In this state, her insecurities are also magnified, and she eagerly lashes out at anyone that tries to "help" her, convinced that such help is merely manipulation in disguise. The more Naoko has embraced her curse, the greater her tolerance for it has grown, but its still something she is extremely ashamed of, and actively represses it as much as possible.

Naoko does not remember much of her life, and trying to conjure up memories from the before is like trying to look through a muddy window. She remembers a family for one, including two older brothers, and she remembers living modestly. She remembers some great cataclysm forcing them to leave, and she remembers being terrified as she and her brothers were pushed onto a boat without her parents. She remembers being mocked for her fear of the vast ocean, and she remembers the cruelty of her brothers as they tied her up with rope and held her above the water below. She had screamed and screamed, while her brothers laughed at her. Here, her memory is far clearer, seared as it is into her mind. A large wave bumped into the vessel, causing her brothers to lose their grip. She falls screaming into the frigid waters, unable to even flail bound as she is. Water laps into her face, and she's far too busy screaming to consider holding her breath. She remembers the burning sensation as water fills her lungs, her body screaming for oxygen, and then nothing but the dark void. Her final moments were of unmitigated terror, but in her final gasping breath of water, there was something more, something darker.

She has no idea how long she remained there, a bound corpse floating in the endless ocean, but her first memories of her other life are being pulled up onto a fisherman's boat. The boat would be found two days later washed ashore, the fisherman seemingly having managed to drown in the safety of his own boat. The time after that is a blur, and she isn't sure whether her curse held sway for months, years, or even decades, but she knows that she killed enough people to earn the name, Fukushū no umi no seirei, the vengeful sea spirit. Eventually, the docks she haunted became condemned and sectioned off, hoping whatever vile curse lay over it would not seek new victims elsewhere. That may have worked, and Naoko may have been eventually forgotten, except that the abandoned docks soon became quite appealing to a different, more nefarious crowd. Criminals who didn't believe the stories soon flocked to the abandoned docks, and the Fukushū no umi no seirei feasted. Until one fateful day, she found herself stalking a group of human traffickers. She made her move just as the criminals were moving the "merchandise" across the docks, and as she came into view, the criminals panicked, pushing their prisoners out of the way. Normally this would have meant nothing to the creature that moved across the docks, but then she heard a sound that pierced her frozen heart. One of the prisoners, a young Japanese girl, had ended up in the water, and was screaming for help. For the first time in her unlife, she paused, and turned towards the drowning woman. She'd killed so many people up to this point, even other young woman, so this should be no different, and yet she couldn't look at the woman without seeing herself, all those years ago, and she felt something she hadn't felt in a very long time: empathy.

Abandoning her quarry, Naoko leapt into the water, grabbed the woman, and dragged her to the shore. Once there, a single tug was all it took to undo her bindings, but rather than be grateful, the woman screamed even more, pushed past her, and ran into the night. Disorientated, but truly in control for the first time in her unlife, Naoko wandered to a nearby abandoned storefront, and in the reflection of its broken window, truly saw what she had become for the first time, and it nearly broke her. Terrified, she ran from herself, hiding in a nearby building where she sobbed and sobbed. She had never planned to leave, ready to consign herself to hiding forever, when she heard someone approaching. Frozen in fear, she looked up to see an older Japanese man peering in her direction. She thought for sure the man would scream in horror upon gazing on her corpselike appearance, but instead, he simply called out, "Hello? Is anyone there?" The man was blind. He had heard her sobbing, but couldn't see her disfigured and broken body. The Fukushū no umi no seirei would have relished such an easy kill, but Naoko felt something else instead.

Then the man spoke again. He asked her if she had any family, or if she had anywhere else to go. When Naoko didn't respond, the man asked if she would like to come with him, that he had a daughter that had all grown up, and that his home felt lonely. Naoko wasn't certain why, but she felt a kinship with the man, and very gently accepted the offered hand. Though terrified that once the man felt her clammy skin he'd figure out the truth, he merely commented on how sick she must be, and promised to make her a big bowl of miso soup once they got home.

And thus she would spend the next few years in the care of the older man, who she would later learn was named Sako Rokuro. He explained how his wife had passed away a few years back, and their only daughter had moved east for work. Though blind, Rokuro made an honest living selling traditional Japanese pottery, something he'd been doing since before he lost his vision. She remain extremely insular, confident that anyone else who saw her would recognize her for what she was. For the first few months, Rokuro would try to encourage her to come with him to the market at least, but he never forced her, and eventually came to terms that the girl was simply not ready. The first time she laughed, it surprised even herself, and though her voice never really returned, she eventually became quite the chatterbox, gleefully describing everything she saw from her window. He even took to calling her Nakidori, or songbird. In that moment, she achieved something that should have been impossible for her. She was happy.

Alas, it was not meant to last, and one evening, a couple of ruffians came into Rokuro's shop one day, claiming the building had fallen into the turf of the red claws, and that he'd need to start paying protection money if he wanted to keep doing business in the neighborhood. While Naoko watched from behind the back door, Rokuro tried to explain to the gentlemen that he could barely afford to exist as it was, and that the money they were asking for would starve them. The pair of ruffians didn't seem to like that answer, and began to get rather aggressive. Slowly, Naoko began feeling her rage boil over, and before she realized what was happening, the Fukushū no umi no seirei began to see the two men as prey.

With an ear-piercing scream, the Fukushū no umi no seirei leapt from her hiding place, her horrific claws wrapped around the first man's throat before he even had a chance to scream. As she choked the life out of the first man, the second pulled out his revolver, and proceeded to unload round after round into the little girl, but he may have been chucking sunflower seeds at her for all it did. As the first man let out his final death rattle, the second finally had the sense to run, but it was already too late. With a single glance, the man began to cough up copious amounts of water, grasping at his throat as he emptied more water from his lungs than should have been possible to be contained. Then, the Fukushū no umi no seirei turned to the third man in the room, surprised that he had neither tried to run nor fight, instead merely shuffling to put himself between her and the door she had just burst from. "Do what you wish with me, vengeful spirit," the man managed to stammer, "But you leave my little Nakidori alone!"

Those simple words hurt her far more than the bullets ever could, and once more she felt her curse receding, replaced with a great shame. This man had given her a home, far more than an abomination like her deserved, and yet all it took was a moment of weakness before she was ready to kill him. It was at that moment that she realized she could never truly live again, and that until she learned to suppress her new darkness, she'd be a danger to everyone she cared about. Without another word, Naoko stepped out of the small shop, quickly vanishing into the shadows.

In the months and years that followed, Naoko became a silent protector of the docks, slaking her violent impulses with the blood of the guilty, never quite able to completely cast off her dark desires, but over time learning how to direct them. As more and more innocents escaped their captors due to Naoko's interference, she earned a new nickname, Peiru Jasutisu, the pale justice. As her control over her powers grew, so did the radius of what she considered her "domain". And at the center of the ever growing domain was a small pottery shop, where an older blind man lived and tended to a small garden shrine. Every evening, the old man would leave a small offering upon the shrine, and beseech the gods to keep his Nakidori safe, and forgive her sins. Every morning, the offerings would be replaced with money and other valuables, whatever Naoko was able to liberate from the pockets of the previous night's victims.

"Sh*t!" Matsuda panted, his lungs burning with exertion, "F*ck! Why is she here? That creepy b*tch isn't supposed to be this far out from the docks!" It was true, the creature known as Peiru Jasutisu was usually confined to the docks, but his men had warned them that her radius seemed to be growing. He of course hadn't listened, and now he was paying the price. Turning to the handbound woman beside him, he shouted, "What's so f*cking special about any of you anyways?! Why does that b*tch care what happens to trash like you?" The woman's eyes went wide in fear, but she remained silent. Of course she remained silent, how could she speak when he'd cut out her tongue weeks ago? Still, her silence was infuriating to the yakuza boss, and he raised his hand to beat her, when he heard another scream, freezing him up immediately. 'Sh*t, that sounded really close!' with a rough push, he forced the woman in front of him again. "C'mon, move it! I ain't dying today." The rain made the ground slick, and running as quickly as they were was probably a mistake, but they couldn't afford to slow down even for a moment.

With one hand on the woman's shoulder, and one hand gripping his handgun like his life depended on it, he pushed through the streets, constantly checking over his shoulder to ensure he wasn't being followed. 'hideout's not far, then I'll be home free!' he thought to himself. Then, suddenly, the woman in front of him stopped abruptly. "The hell you think you're doing, did I tell you to-" Matsuda started to say, but the words caught in his throat once he realized why the mute woman had stopped. Standing directly in front of them stood a young girl in a tattered dress. Her head was lowered such that her long black hair completely obscured her face, and her arms were stock still at her sides, her hands dripping wet. 'Wait, no, that's not water, that's...' Matsuda couldn't bring himself to finish that thought. Instead, he brought his gun up, but instead of pointing it at the horrific woman across from her, he pointed it at the woman in front of him. "Out of the way, or I'll blow her f*cking head off! I'll do it, don't... don't test me!" He had meant to sound far more confident, but a staggered threat was the best he could manage.

The Peiru Jasutisu cocked her head, as if considering Matsuda's threat. Then, slowly, one hand lifted and parted her hair enough for a single bulging eye to peer through, and Matsuda very nearly had a heart attack. Instinct took over, and in a moment of weakness, he turned his gun away from his hostage and towards the horrific creature before him. Too late he realized his mistake, and before he could return the gun to its prior position, a clammy hand wrapped itself around his wrist. "Wha-how?!" he cried out turning his head to see the Onryō was now directly behind him, close enough to lick the hairs on the back of his neck. Moments later, the only thing he could do was scream.

-------------------

Saiki ran in terror as fast as her legs would take her. The instant Matsuda had let go of her shoulder, she took off. She didn't know where she was going, hell, she barely even knew where she was. All she knew was that she needed to get away, she needed to escape. But she'd been near collapse before she started running, and that final burst of adrenaline when the Onryō had appeared was only able to get her about three blocks before her lungs gave out on her, and she collapsed in a heaving, crying mess. If the spirit was still after her, there's no way she'd be able to escape. Her only hope was to hide, and hope she'd be left alone.

Just as she was beginning to think she'd gotten away, a peal of lightning revealed a slight figure standing in the same alley as she, and Saiki's heart sank. In a breath's span the Onryō was on top of her, staring her down like a cat examining a trapped rat. She wanted to beg for mercy, or at least a quick death, but as she could do neither, she simply closed her eyes, ready to accept an end to her suffering. Several seconds passed, and the expected end never came. Eventually Saiki's curiosity overcame her fear, and she opened her eyes to see the pale girl hadn't left, but was instead holding something out towards her.

Stunned, she reached out and grabbed the offering, shuddering briefly as Saiki's hand brushed against the spirit's cold, clammy skin. Only then did she realize that it was an envelope she'd been given, containing a large chunk of money, and the address to a shelter for abused women. Saiki looked up in stunned silence, only to discover the Peiru Jasutisu had vanished. She'd heard stories of the wraith, of the terror it could cause. And those stories had been true, but now she knew they were only one side of the story, the side whispered by the cruel men that had chained her, and taken her voice. The Peiru Jasutisu was a guardian angel. No, that wasn't true, angels were beautiful, and the Peiru Jasutisu was anything but. A guardian monster then, but a guardian all the same. And perhaps as the world grew darker and scarier, perhaps a monster that bumped back in the night was exactly what they needed.

Current BuildOkumura Naoko the Onryō

WhovianBeast · #10 May 4th, 2020, 07:04 PM

Do what you want cause a pirate is free!

Name: Captain Savannah (goes by Savvi) Blanchard, "The Siren"
Player: PalladiaMors
Hero Points: 1
Kind: Human
Country of Origin: Close to what would be Orlando in our worldAppalachia, now based out of the Spanish Republic
Favored Deity: Loki, though Raijin and Leviathan would probably take notice too

Savannah's story begins, as does so many others, not with herself but with her ancestors. Specifically it begins with her great, great, great grandfather on her father's side. Carter Blanchard wasn't an exceptional man by any stretch. He was fit and athletic and family tales describe him as very handsome, but at the end of the day he was just a normal man trying to make his way in the world. He found employment as a sailor for Appalachia's small navy, earning a promotion to lieutenant during his term of service. For the most part the work was uneventful. Patrolling the coast for pirates based out of Cuba was the most excitement they would usually find, sometimes rescuing fisherman who had gotten stranded too far from shore. But life can go from dull and uneventful to catastrophic in the blink of an eye, and one fateful day in late summer, catastrophe befell the Pining Gator, Lieutenant Blanchard's ship.

Storms were always a danger in that part of the world during that part of the year. Experienced sailors knew the signs, knew how to prepare for the worst, and knew how to survive these storms, but the Gator was unprepared for the hurricane that bore down on them over the course of the day. Too far out at sea to make it to port, they had no choice but to hunker down and pray to whichever god might be listening for their survival. Unfortunately for most of them, none of them were. The Pining Gator was obliterated by the storm, and all the men would have been lost at sea save for one who survived, Lieutenant Blanchard. Though he didn't survive through his own will or determination, he survived because he was rescued.

It was one of the merfolk of legend, a creature that most only knew as fable, who rescued him. Specifically it was one of the merfolk sirens, a rare and honored leader and prophetess of her people who saved him from a watery grave. Why she chose him, among all the sailors, was a mystery. Perhaps it was fate. Perhaps her gift of prophecy had shown her something about this man that normal eyes could not perceive. Or perhaps it was pure, dumb luck. But whatever the reason, the siren could hardly drag the man to shore, there was no shore for miles. And hoisting him up onto a piece of floating debris was no option with the hurricane still raging. She had no choice but to use her magic to grant him the ability to breathe and survive beneath the waves so she could drag him down deep enough to escape the storm on the surface. He awoke in a small structure beneath the waves, immediately panicking when he realized he was underwater. But the siren was there to calm him, even if she couldn't explain to him what was happening. Through pantomime and charades she was able to tell him the basics - he was drowning, she used magic to save him, he could breathe and survive underwater for now, but would need to swim towards the sunset to find land before the magic expired. He offered his thanks as best he could, completely oblivious as to why he had been saved and began to swim for the surface. The siren stopped him however, presenting him with a large conch horn and insisting he take it. He didn't ask questions, took one, last, longing look at his rescuer, and began swimming. Her magic made it far easier than it would be for any mortal man, he swam like a creature of the sea itself. It was nearly half a day but he found his way to the shore of the southeastern peninsula of Appalachia. The moment he set foot upon land he began coughing and choking from the water in his lungs. Once he recovered he looked to the sea, knowing that the gifts it had bestowed had run their course.

Carter Blanchard went back to his life, though he took his survival as a sign to resign his commission. The Appalachian navy certainly couldn't argue with him. He told his tale of being rescued by a mermaid but most people just laughed, thinking he was making up stories. Only the fae he told raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but not even they pressed the matter. In time he would be married, though his wife teased him about his "true love" beneath the waters. He would have sons who would have sons of their own, and so forth until Savannah, the first daughter born to the family since then. Growing up on the coast, Savannah always loved the water. Many a day was spent on the beach, and she had a habit of running outside every time it rained. She had heard the story of her ancestor's rescue by a mermaid, that sort of tale being the type that gets passed down through the family in perpetuity, but never paid it much mind. She always assumed it was made up as well, though some small part of her wished it wasn't. The unremarkable conch shell still rested on the mantle of the family home, its importance passed down from one generation to the next even though nobody really knew why. Savannah had held it once when she was a little girl, and felt a strange longing when she did. She could hear whispered voices that she could swear were calling to her. She may have discovered even more had her father not found her standing transfixed with her hair blowing in a breeze that wasn't there and scolded her loudly enough to snap her out of the trance and frighten her into never touching it again.

It was one of the few rules that Savannah obeyed as she grew up. Always a "wild child", she always seemed to be in some kind of trouble or another. A perpetual tomboy, she would play in the woods and go swimming in the sea, always coming home a mess. She would skip church to go exploring or otherwise have some sort of fun, and playing hooky from school was the norm. She was happy, it just seemed that polite civilization held no interest for her. Time spent with friends would lead to a forbidden romance or two, her parents at a loss as to what to do with her. The matter would be tragically resolved during a particularly harsh winter when both of Savannah's parents fell ill, passing from the sickness within a month of each other when Savannah was fifteen. With no desire to stay in a house that now held such bad memories she sold the family home and land that had been in their hands for generations. She planned to travel north to seek her fortune, taking only the bare necessities and a few personal items with her, leaving the bank to sell the rest. As a last thought before she stepped out the door for the last time she turned back to look at the conch still over the fireplace. In a final act of defiance she scooped it off the mantle and into her backpack, setting out with a not small amount of money from selling the house and land.

Not wanting to make the trip overland, Savannah made her way to the docks of her home city and booked passage north on a merchant ship. Though not usually willing to take passengers, enough coin would change the mind of any captain. Thoughts of the tales of her ancestor surviving a hurricane after being saved by a mermaid began to occupy her mind, causing her to watch the ocean over the edge of the railing. It was a peaceful journey, largely because she felt so at peace while on the water. At least until the night of the third day out when she was awakened by the loud ringing of bells and shouting from the crew. She opened the door of the first mate's cabin that she had been given for the journey and saw the sailors running on the deck, some engaged in battle with other men. Another, larger ship had pulled alongside the merchant ship, smoke from cannons still pouring out, men rushing and leaping over the edge, and above it all a black flag with the skull of a raven interspaced between bones forming an X. Diego the Black Raven was a notorious pirate, wanted by every nation around the Caribbean other than East Ecuador, and this night he had set his sights on the merchant ship that Savannah was sailing on. She grabbed her pack and palmed a small knife, knowing the first mate's quarters were too small to escape from. Not that there was anywhere to escape to, but she was trying to keep as many options open as possible.

The battle was short and brutal. The Black Raven's men were merciless and clearly not out to take prisoners. They clearly wanted the goods on the ship and nothing more. The sailors on board the merchant ship were overwhelmed, and when the captain offered his surrender, Diego laughed and gutted him on the spot. It didn't take him long to notice Savannah, ordering his men away as he sidled up to her. He demanded to know what was in her pack and wrested it from her when she refused. His eyes lit up when he saw the treasure within, and Savannah used the distraction to lash out with her knife. She caught him on the side of the face, opening a long and deep cut. Diego responded with a furious yell and backhand with the same hand that held her pack. She was stunned and knocked overboard, only catching a glimpse of the conch shell that flew out of the pack from the impact and went overboard with her. A useless sea shell so the pirate thought, giving neither it nor the woman a second thought. Bodies were piled aboard the merchant ship and it was set ablaze as Savannah sunk beneath the waves. As she came to her senses she began to choke, having had the wind knocked out of her before going overboard. She tried to swim for the surface and in her flailing grabbed the shell. She heard not a whisper this time, but a chorus within her mind - voices more beautiful than any she had ever heard singing a song of the sea. And she realized she wasn't drowning. The moonlight and light from the fire shone through the murky depths as though she was standing on the deck, and the pain in her jaw was rapidly fading. That was all she was able to realize before the singing overwhelmed her though, the awakening of so many sensations causing her to black out.

She awakened on the shore with nothing but the clothes on her back and the shell, still grasped tightly in her hand. At first she thought maybe she had been saved by a mermaid too, but no, she would clearly remember such a thing. No, it suddenly all made sense. Her ancestor's story was true, but there was so much more. The beautiful maiden of the sea who had saved his life was Not at all actually, but she thinks it isin truth her great, great, great grandmother. Everything came into focus - her love of the sea, why she was forbidden to touch the conch. She was a siren herself, something her parents had been keeping from her. Or at least, they died before they could tell her the truth. The song in her head was silent unless she focused specifically on the conch, which had to be magical in some way, it was the only explanation. But now she was marooned, didn't know where, didn't know where the nearest city was, and was penniless to boot. With no other options yet feeling strangely invigorated she set off walking to the north. After a couple of miles she happened upon the small home of an elderly fisherman and his wife who took her in when she told the tale of escaping a pirate raid. The other details she left out, of course. They fed her, gave her a place to sleep, and told her the nearest town was a few miles north. The fisherman offered to let her ride on the back of his horse when he went to market in the morning, which she eagerly accepted.

It didn't take her long to find the company of a Nova Religiosa orphanage, which took her in despite being much older than most of the other girls. With no resources and nowhere to go she was grateful, and the nun who ran the place was kind. Her dreams of heading north to find her own way in the world had been shattered. If she had only stayed home, none of this would have happened. But such thoughts of despair were fleeting, Savannah wasn't the type to dwell on tragedy. This was a setback, and a delay, but she had the rest of her life still. Even if one face, a face now sporting a long scar on the left side of his face, was an unhealthy focus of many of the thoughts regarding her future. She spent several years at the orphanage, though nobody wanted to take in an older girl to be their daughter when there were so many younger ones there. She did however have frequent occasion to visit the shore, slipping into the ocean when no one was looking. She learned the extent of her siren abilities beneath the waves, learned she could swim as easily as she could run and learned her voice had the power to entrance others if she focused on the song of the sea she had heard in her mind. Surely there was so much she could do with such a gift, but she couldn't think of what. In the time in between her trips to the ocean she made friends with some of the older ones like herself but knew her time there was limited and wasn't sure where she would go afterwards. Fate, however, would seem to intervene in the affairs of the Blanchard family again when word spread through the town of a rowdy crowd of sailors at the docks with a raven skull flag on their ship causing trouble.

It was all Savannah needed to know, and she acted with neither hesitation nor forethought. She ran along the coast until she was out of sight of anyone, then dove into the ocean. She swam back the way she came until she found the familiar pirate ship and waited beneath the waters. It took hours but finally the sailors boarded their ship and departed, headed south. She swam beneath them, following until the sun was bright overhead, then emerged directly behind the boat and begin to sing. It was a song of anger and sadness alike, mourning what was lost, yet hopeful for what could come. One by one the pirates stood up straight, aimlessly walking to the edge of the railing to look out over the water. Ten minutes later Savannah ceased her song and climbed aboard the ship to find all of the sailors transfixed, staring out into the ocean, including Captain Diego. Murderers all, she stared daggers through them as she remembered the merchant ship who had shown her kindness in helping her escape sad memories of a home so suddenly taken from her. And one by one she shoved them overboard for the sea to claim. The only one she didn't throw overboard was Diego himself. Focusing on the scar she had left him for a moment she took his cutlass from his belt and took his head from his shoulders. His body was thrown overboard, the head put into a chest. Her initial thought was to burn the ship as the pirates had done to the one she was on, as well as so many others. But another idea occurred to her, and she instead pulled the raven skull flag down and stashed it in the chest with the captain's head. Then did her best to turn the ship around and return to town. It wasn't easy, she had never sailed a ship before and it was no easy task working alone. But she was persistent and trusted her instincts. When the ship returned to dock she was the only one on board, offering no explanation other than "the sea claimed them". She proceeded to the orphanage where she had lived the past few years, rounded up some of her friends, and asked if they wanted to leave and find their fortunes on the sea. The answers were a unanimous "yes".

Savannah and her crew of enough to count on one hand set sail for the south until they reached a large, Appalachian port city where she took the chest to the magistrate and claimed the sizeable bounty on the Black Raven. It was used to refit and upgrade the ship, with quite a bit more set aside in a trunk. The ship was renamed the Siren's Song and the crew let in on Savannah's secret. Over the past year or so she has gathered a crew of about twenty, all women, and the Conch of the Sirens has been affixed to the ship itself. The Siren's Song sails the eastern coast of Appalachia, the Caribbean, and the Gulf of Mexico, ironically acting as pirates themselves. Their tactic is a simple but effective one - the Conch conjures forth a great mist to hide its approach and then amplifies the range of Savannah's song. Once the crew of the target ship is entranced, her own crew will board the ship, overpower any women aboard, and proceed to loot it. They never hurt anyone though, and limit their raids to the rich and corrupt, much of the plunder being given to ordinary people they encounter. The only exception to this rule are the truly bloodthirsty and vicious pirates, those have earned their fate below. The Siren's Song and her crew are based in a hidden location in the Spanish Republic where the locals regard them as heroes and help hide and shelter them. Thus far the Siren's Song and her captain have shown no interest in the vampire situation, but it is inevitable that a ship such as theirs will have a place in it.

Captain Jacob Haddig wasn't the worst of pirates. Sure he had robbed people, that was the very definition of a pirate after all. And while he had slain many a man in his time, it was all in the course of battle. To his credit he would honor a surrender, and would never raise arms against an unarmed man unless that man were foolish enough to strike him first. As it was that adherence to the pirate's code, no matter how nebulous that code may be, was the only reason he was tied to the rail of his ship rather than taking the sleep eternal at the bottom of the ocean. There was mist on the horizon. The memory was foggy but coming back to him. Mist, and then the song. The most beautiful song he had ever heard in his life. He heard it from within his cabin and stepped out on deck to see his crew standing at the edge of the railing, transfixed by the sound. That should have been suspicious but for some reason it seemed the most normal and natural thing he could imagine. The notes filled his ears and swirled in his mind, then continued to harmonize with a great, internal emptiness.

Until a splash of water in his face roused the captain from his delirium. He sputtered and shook his head, trying to right himself but finding he was bound to his own ship. "Well, look who's awake," laughed a female voice, his eyes opening wide and snapping in front of him. There was a woman with wild, red hair standing over him with a smirk on her beautiful face. Dressed in captain's finery with a reinforced leather jacket, she had a rapier on her hip that he could grab if he was fast enough. He lunged only for the ropes to hold him fast. In answer to the attempt two other women stepped forward from flanking the redhead, a pair of cocked and ready pistols aimed for his chest. "Now I'd be real careful 'bout rilin' these two up. Best you just sit there nice an' cozy, darlin'. We got matters o' business to discuss," she declared, Captain Haddig just glaring at her.

"That song, that music.. that was you! You've got some sea fey workin' with you, don't you?" he growled, knowing enough about the myths of the sea to safely make that assessment. "What do you want, you takin' me hostage? My men will-" he tried to threaten, only to get cut off.

"Keep on sittin' right in the brig where we stashed 'em," the redhead spoke. Captain Jacob took a quick look around his ship. He saw none of his men but about a dozen women on the deck, leaning against the masts, resting on the wheel, or looking through barrels. "Now ya see Cap'n Jake, I was perfectly happy to let you do your plunderin'. Man's gotta make a livin', I understand that, and hell, I ain't no angel myself," Savannah scolded, resting her boot on top of one of the barrels so she could lean over him. "But then you had ta go an' plunder a ship fulla food and medicine from Amazonia to Appalachia, meant for the poor, hungry, an' sick. You coulda left it when you saw that cargo ship weren't carryin' nothin' of no monetary value. Maybe even taken a crate fulla bananas just to say you took somethin'. But no, you took their whole cargo hold then tried to sell it in Cuba. Ended up dumpin' it overboard 'cause it had gone rotten by the time it got there and nobody wanted to buy the medicine outta fear o' the fey catchin' wind. So you stole from poor, sick, an' hungry people and didn't even get anythin' for it but a fruit-smellin' hold. I was done in there, it still smells of coconut. You're an experienced privateer, cap'n. Shoulda known better'n that, 'cause I got friends an' family in that part of the world and that made me angry," she glared, her jovial tone turning quite serious.

"I don't need anyone's permission for what I do and don't take as bounty," Captain Haddig answered indignantly. He had been trying to discreetly wriggle against his bonds, hoping to free himself, but a flick of the eyes of one of the other women towards his wrist and back to his own eyes, grip on her pistol tightening, taught him the folly of that idea.

"Well ya do now," the woman answered, kicking the barrel aside and standing back up. "I can see you ain't in a conversational mood so I'll get straight to business. You're gonna give me the combination to that fancy safe in your cabin, then Angelina here's gonna tie you up right proper and take you to our brig. We're gonna sail back to Appalachia and turn you in to the law for the bounty" she declared, her tone not one of someone looking to negotiate, because she knew she held all the cards.

"They'll hang me," he spat, glaring back at the woman. "Why should I give you anything?" he demanded to know.

The redhead nodded her head to a fourth woman, another standing to the side, who stepped forward and backhanded Captain Haddig hard enough to make his cheek go numb. "That was for bein' rude," Savannah answered with a glare of her own. "And you'll do it 'cause if ya don't, I'll have Angelina here tie you up, tie the other end 'round that safe, and throw you both overboard. Let you think about just how valuable the contents of that safe are for... oh... a minute or so?" she shrugged, the woman who had struck Jacob picking up a length of rope and coiling it around her arm.

The now-former captain thought about his situation. He truly had nothing to bargain with, and at least in an Appalachian prison there was a chance for escape or mercy. "What about my men?" he asked after a long pause.

"See now, concern for the men under your command shows a redeemin' quality. You show that kinda remorse up north and they might be inclined to give you a lenient sentence. Especially if you repay what you've taken. Your men are gonna be free to leave with your boat. I'm only takin' you. Now I know you got treasures hidden in secret caches all over, hell I do too. Maybe your crew'll round it up, bring it to the courthouse, and try to pay off some o' your debt. Maybe they'll keep it for themselves and leave ya to hang. Guess you better hope you were good to 'em, but I will tell 'em you asked about their welfare," Savannah promised, focusing her steely eyes on Jacob.

He took a deep sigh and was silent for several moments before muttering "Thirteen right, circle 'round twice left to forty, right once to twenty-eight, then 'round twice left to lucky number seven."

"Well thank ya for bein' reasonable, cap'n. Ladies, only grab what ya can carry, leave 'em food and water. Angelina, take our guest to his 'quarters' on our ship, I'll let his men know the deal. Whatever they do with it's up to them. Then Doreen and I are gonna grab that safe and head to ship. We'll call the mist and slip away while cap'n Jake's men reclaim their ship. Captain? Been a pleasure," the redhead said to the other captain, placing a tri-corner hat on her head just so she could tip it to him as he was hauled away.

Indhra Pramashet

Savannah's oldest friend from the orphanage that they spent the last few years of their lives in, both of them always up to no good. She arrived at the Home of the Immaculate Revelation Orphanage and Convent for Girls shortly before Savannah, having run away from home and likewise found the life of adventure she craved denied her. Today Indhra serves as Savannah's first mate and confidant and is a capable fighter and leader of her own for when Savannah is away from the ship. A bit more practical-minded than Savannah, if barely. Really good with a pistol.

Doreen McCallister

Another friend from the orphanage, Doreen arrived there when she was much younger after a hungry pair of mountain lions attacked her family in the Appalachian woods, killing her parents and brother. Though she survived, she bears a long scar on the side of her face to this day. Doreen keeps things on the ship organized and has taken on the "big sister" role for the crew. Good survival instincts and probably the best judge of character on the ship.

Tahnni Weston

Another of Savannah's friends from the orphanage, Tahnni took well to the "school" part of religious school even if she largely ignored the religious aspects. Very intelligent and easily the smartest member of the crew, she handles the navigation, tactics, accounting, repair, and basically every other aspect of the Siren's Song and her crew that needs brainpower. Believes magic is just another form of science that can be understood by anyone with enough effort. Probably a bit too fastidious to be on a pirate ship but it got her out from under the supervision of the nuns so she isn't complaining.

Angelina Costachezch

Despite her soft features, this tall, athletic woman can be as harsh and rugged as her Nordensk homeland. A latter arrival to the crew of the Siren's Song, Savannah hired her on after watching her break the arm of a surly sailor in a saloon in Cuba and throw him out a window. After dragging him upstairs to the window first. Angelina acts as the ship's "heavy" and is the best fighter on the ship aside from Savannah herself. She claims to be descended from the last line of human royalty in Romania but who knows if there's any actual truth in that.

Ivy

Ivy (most certainly not her real name) is a young, dark-haired, tomboyish fae girl who managed to sneak aboard and stow away on the Siren's Song when they pulled into port in Guarani. When caught she revealed that she was bored, running away from her home in Amazonia, looking for adventure, and so many other things that Savannah understood even if she didn't want to admit it. Ivy has proven herself useful though both in terms of fae knowledge and, most importantly, by acting as the ship's cook and doctor. Her motivations mostly lie in simply seeing the world beyond the jungle.

Are you confused and wondering what is going on here? Check out this YouTube video to get the scoop.

The 2024 Iron DM Season 18 Is Now Live!

Thread Tools
Show Printable Version [DO NOT USE] Email this Page