[PF-1e] Prison Colony Krakengard - The Daylight War

[GeoAvanti]

What can I say? I don't usually feel the compulsion to write up characters with NPC classes. I kinda felt that a plain ol' regular guy just fit this sort of thing.

[Tiax]

I'm willing to bet there are commoners on Krakengard.

[Kinder]

Name: Jacquelyn De'La Shadow "Shadow Jack" or "Jack"
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Class: Rogue

Appearance:
Jacquelyn stands all of 5'2" tall and weighs 95bls soaking wet. She has dark almost black wavy hair that comes down to the middle of her shoulder blades that she likes to wear loose unless she is on a job and then it is pulled back into a pony tail with a dark leather cord. She has vibrant green eyes and a rather pail complexion as most of her activity is at night. She wears black leather pants that fit snugly to her body with soft black boots that reach almost to her knees. She wears a dark blue shirt that also fits snugly to her body under dark leather armor when working. When out in public and not on a job she wears a dark blue almost black cloak that comes down to her ankles with a hood for cold weather.

Personality:
Jacquelyn is a quiet individual for the most part, but won't let anyone walk over her and will voice her opinions when needed. She believes that the laws in the city are important to keep order in the city but does not believe that they all apply to her. The few friends she has she will defend to the death and will not betray their loyalty at any cost. Her memory of her father is that of the most important man to ever walk the planet and is caring on the name of Shadow Jack in his honor and hopes to fill his very large shoes someday.

 

Background:
Jacquelyn "Jack" was born and raised in the city of Halas, her mother disappeared while Jack was still an infant and was raised by her father Jackie (The original Shadow Jack) as an only child. Growing up he taught her everything he knew about the city and on being a rogue. He was a free-lance thief and as such was always having problems with the local Thieves guild, The Alley Cats, but he was always able to keep a couple of steps ahead of them.

When Jack was 15, her father slipped up on a job and was caught by the guards in a high level merchant's house, where the merchant and his family were found dead. He was tried and convicted of the murders and was executed a few days later. Jacquelyn knew her father was innocent and set up but was unable to prove anything to the local authorities.

Working herself as a free-lance rogue, Jack has caught the attention of the Alley Cats. The Alley Cats believe that all unlawful activities should come through their guild and have become a bit nervous of Jacks inquires of her father’s capture and execution. With Jacks inquiries it has become apparent that the city guards have become to notice and make their own inquiries into the guild and their activities.

 

Role-play sample:
A few days ago Jack found a letter sitting on her bed in one of her safe houses, one that she thought nobody else knew about. When she opened the letter she saw the crisp clean hand writing of one of her dearest friends Darias Shadowstar. The letter told Jack that Darias need some help and that he had a large score set up that would make them both comfortable for several months if not a few years. Darias had never steered her wrong, so Jack waited for the appointed meeting time before arriving a little early at the appointed place.

Jack found herself nervously sitting in the Rusty Nail tavern waiting for Darias to show up, and he was late. Even though he was only about thirty minutes late, it still had Jack worried. Darias was the most punctual man she has ever meet, he was never late and almost always early, giving him plenty of time to case the area and set up any job that might present itself for the near future.

Sitting in the corner of the main room Jack sat in the chair leaning it back of the two rear legs with her feet up on the table. She was looking at a small pouch the inn keeper had just brought over to her and said it was delivered earlier that morning. She was wondering what was in it as she began to reach for it when she Heard a commotion coming from the front door. Jack looked that way and saw a guard captain and four of his lackeys enter the tavern. This was strange as she knew that the guard never came into this tavern as they were not welcomed by the clientele. But she saw many of the patrons in the room get up and move out of the guards way as the captain moved about the room looking at each person, daring them to try anything. All of the people got up as the guard captain approached them and she saw a few duck out the back, when the guard’s backs were turned. Jack was not too worried as she had not been working any jobs in the last few weeks as her last job gave her enough coin to sustain her since then and still a few more weeks still. While Jack did her share of picking the occasional pocket she did her best to keep a low profile and out of the city guards attention.

The Captain stopped in front of her table, while Jack was just taking the small pouch, and looked Jack in the eyes with a strange sneer. Two of the guards moved behind her as the other two stood guard over the door. As the guard captain took the pouch from her hand, Jack placed her feet on the ground and lowered the chair legs and started to rise, "Hay that’s mine!!!" One of the guards behind her pushed her back down into her seat.

The Captain opened up the strings to the pouch and poured the contents out onto the table. As the contents of the bag fell out of the pouch, Jack saw several weird pieces of ore and a few coins from a nearby kingdom of which there was a major war going on between that kingdom and her home Kingdome.

"That’s not mine!!!"

"You just said it was."

"I was mistaken!!!"

"Then or now?"

Seeing that there was no chance of talking her way out Jack slipped out of her chair and under the table. Suddenly the table was lifted and tossed up against the wall by one of the guards.

Slipping between the guard Captain and the other guard Jack quickly slipped under the table next to hers and then moved under the next one further on before popping up. Looking back behind her she saw one of the guards giving chase and the other moving to block the back door. Looking around she saw the two guards by the door beginning to pull swords as well as the one giving chase.

With the two main exits blocked Jack ran at the side wall and threw herself through the glass window and fell hard out onto the sidewalk and then rolled into the street. As she scrambled to her feet she saw several minor cuts and felt a few bruises beginning to form but what was more important was the Guard Captain at the taverns window blowing a loud whistle and calling for more guards to arrest the traitor and spy.

Seeing guards running from both directions of the street Jack saw an alley way on the other side and raced for it, with two of the guards coming out the front door of the tavern and giving chase. Reaching the alley Jack raced down it with the guards hot on her heals. As she ran she thought to herself, this has to be the work of the Alley cats. They set me up just like my father, They probably did not like me poking my nose into their business. Reaching close to the end she finds the ally blocked by a large fence, which she begins to climb quickly. But about half way over she feels a pair of hands grab her and pull her back, throwing her to the ground.

As Jack starts to rise from the ground she sees and feels the tips of two swords poking at her neck, with the Guard Captain hurrying down the alley towards them with several more guards.

Trying his best to catch his breath the Guard Captain looks at Jack laying on the ground. Huffing and puffing he begins to speak. "You are under arrest for being a spy and for treason to the crown along with many other crimes."

Jack attempted to rise again but felt the hilt of a sword hit her from behind and then the world went dark.

 

Bonus:
Darias Shadowstar, Rogue and Con-Artist. Darias is a man who has a way with the ladies and men as well. Within minutes he is able to swoon even the hardest of women and have them giving him their coins and jewelry just before he leaves them moments later, having them believe that it was all their idea to begin with. Darias has a way of getting his victims into trouble and believing that they deserve to be in that trouble and not the man who is walking away with their coin.

Darias lives by his gorgeous good looks, dazzling smile and enchanting charm. He is constantly surrounded by women and others always willing to pay his bills even though they have only known him for a short while. He is methodical and calculating vary rarely getting the short end of the stick although he has been known to slip up a time or two, but he will never admit it.

[Fon]

@GeoAvanti
I'm actually pretty surprised that anyone would go with a plain commoner... but Imen is first and foremost looking for a fun and interesting character/concept after all.

[Sir Alex]

Yep, a lot of people are submitting characters with good social skills. It makes sense given the premise of the campaign. A commoner plopped down amidst all those schemers could be interesting, especially a colorfully-RP'd commoner.

Besides...Arlen Bales started out as a commoner....

[GeoAvanti]

Hey, *everyone* starts out as a Commoner, whether they like it or not.

[PopCultureBard]

Originally Posted by GeoAvanti

Hey, *everyone* starts out as a Commoner, whether they like it or not.

Yeah, but some people actually put in the effort to improve.



Great character, Geo. I'm excited to see it develop.

[GeoAvanti]

And here I thought that *coughSassycough*Beth was supposed to be the mean girl, PCB. :P

[SonofSamWich]

Updated my application to include a bit more info, and more expansion on Lan's character.

[Sassafrass]

It's always the quiet ones, Geo

[Inem]

All right, I got some more reviews done, though there are still a few names left on my list. It's not a lot though, so hopefully I'm getting close to getting through all the people who asked for one

[suburbanplankton]

[Squeak]

Thanks for the input Inem.

[ManicMonky]

Thank you for the feedback.

[Shadowmaim]

Name: Roan Armaund
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Class: Investigator(Spiritualist)
Crime: Trafficking of Illegal Goods

Appearance: Roan is slender man of middling height, with a face that makes him look far older than his 20 years. His eyes, often hidden behind his long brown hair, hold a dark and sunken quality that makes him look severe or brooding. At nearly constant odds with his eyes, his mouth is often turned into a soft smile. Pale skin, combined with his slender frame, give him the look of someone unhealthy or ill. This is likely more a result of his keeping indoors rather than any illness, whether on an investigation or researching into the wee hours of the night.

Personality: Roan tends to keep to himself, having a slow and methodical approach to problems. His ties to the spirit world have tempered his passions, giving him a calm and subdued nature. The exception to this is the subject of necromancy. The forced enslavement of the souls and bodies of the dead agitates him, and may drive him to somewhat irrational decisions in opposition of such things. He views himself as an extension of the will of the realm of spirits, and does his best to bring peace to the spirits of the departed who yet linger in this world. The more people and spirits he can aid, the less he considers his own well being before making a decision to help.

Background: Since Roan was young, he'd been different from others. Nearly as soon as he could talk, he'd had imaginary friends. As he became older, and realized this became less and less acceptable, he kept the voices a secret from others. They shared things with him; pain, joy, regrets, anger. Roan listened to them all, and consoled those he could.

He realized the true nature of these voices when his mother passed away, when he was only five years old. Her spirit sought him out to tell him how loved he was once more before moving on. His birth had been complicated, and the midwives swore he wouldn't survive the night. Against all odds, the boy survived indeed. She cherished the child, who continued to look somewhat sickly throughout his life. She begged his forgiveness for leaving him alone, as his father had run off before he was even born. He gave his forgiveness willingly, and she passed on. He was raised by friends of his mother from then on.

Years passed, and as Roan got older and stronger he began doing what he could to ease the pain of the spirits that sought him out. Developing a reputation as something of a detective, Roan helped in any way he could: bringing lost articles to family members; seeking justice for the murdered or wrongfully accused; telling someone a secret kept too long. Through his travels he found others who shared his gift to some extent. Conversations with them revealed a shared trait with himself and the others: a brush with death. Generally when they were very young.

He'd hoped the source of his gift was something far more spectacular when he was a boy. An alignment of the stars, or being chosen by the gods. He'd asked a particularly knowledgeable spirit why he could hear the dead once. The answer had stuck with him: "Fool boy, ye've been touched by Death. That which escapes his grasp never comes back whole, remember that! He keeps a piece of you with him, and he'll have the rest one day, ye can be sure o' that!" He'd been scared by the answer, and hadn't asked a spirit about it since.

He hadn't fully understood at first, but as he grew older and met others with a gift it made more sense. It wasn't always hearing the voices of the departed that manifested. Some could actually see their forms, for others it was only a chill that came over them when a spirit was present. He imagined it had to do with how willing you were to accept what was happening, or your age at the time of your encounter with the other side. Perhaps it was entirely based upon your own soul, or how long your brush with death had lasted. There was precious little research done on the subject of the afterlife. Each faith had it's own, often conflicting, ideas of what the gods did with your soul after death, and many more scholarly accounts were not available to a man of Roan's station.

Most recently, he had been sought out by the spirit of one of the guards of the kingdom who had recently passed. The guard was racked with guilt over how many people he'd sent to a prison camp, a place called Krakengard, for less and less severe crimes. Roan had heard of it, but the guard's stories confirmed some of the rumors he'd hoped were false. Demons, or some type of creature that rose in the night and slaughtered any unlucky enough to be caught without magical protection.

In Roan's experience when people spoke of "demons", it was just a lost soul driven nearly mad with grief or rage. He'd tried to help only a few such spirits, and occasionally failed to help them at all. Sometimes they were just too far gone. That was not to say there weren't otherworldly beings with malicious intent, for there certainly were, but rarely did they take an interest in normal folk.

The guard begged Roan to help the prisoners, and ease his conscience in death. Roan agreed without hesitation, wondering how one went about being thrown into a prison labor camp. Even if he got thrown in, how could he help the people inside? The stories he'd heard suggested the colony had been under siege every night for years. Whether the demons on the island were truly spirits or not, they had slaughtered many people over the years. There were sure to be many spirits on the island, and none of them would likely be at peace. There was even a chance there was...necromancy...at work here. That he could not abide, twisting the souls and bodies of the deceased into mindless servants was completely unacceptable.

Freeing the prisoners seemed unlikely, as well as unhelpful in the long run as the king would just throw more people in anyway. It seemed the only recourse was to make the camp safer for those imprisoned, perhaps by driving out the demons or putting them to rest if they were in fact angered spirits. He wasn't naive enough to think he could succeed where stronger people than himself had failed, but he could speak to those people and ask them what they learned before their death. Perhaps that would be enough to give him an edge, and finish what they had started. Determined now, Roan closed his eyes and called out to the spirits, beseeching them for aid in his newest task.

Roleplay Sample/s   Roan approached the burned out shell of an old home. It had been heavily overgrown with plant life, and clearly abandoned for some time. He'd followed rumors here, some older women gossiping about the "Haunted House" outside of town and how travellers should avoid it. They said that if you went to the house at night, the ghost of the man who'd burned the house down would pull you into the cellar and you'd never come back out again. He doubted sincerely there was such a powerful spirit here, but he decided to check it out anyway. There was usually a hint of truth to such stories. He hadn't come at night for starters, as that was an incredibly good way to get killed by someone or something that wanted either wanted your gold or saw you as a meal. There also didn't seem to be a cellar at all, at least not one Roan could see. After spending a short while examining the ruins, he sat down in what was once the front yard of the home. Bowing his head and closing his eyes, Roan began whispering. "Come spirits of this place, I've come to aid you if I may. Please speak to me, and let me know if you are here. Allow me to ease your passing, if it be within my power." It took several minutes of sitting, but eventually Roan heard a small voice. Do you know when my parents are coming home? It asked. The voice of a young boy, not much older than six or seven, from behind him. He stood up and turned to face it, the voice seemed to be coming from near a large tree. He walked over and saw that there was a swing attached to one of the branches, seemingly untouched by the fire and ravages of time that had taken the rest of the home. "I'm sorry, I do not. My name is Roan, what's yours?" He asked the empty air. Joseph... Came the invisible reply. "Did you live here Joseph?" Yeah. With my mom and dad, and my older sister. One night there was a lot of smoke and heat though, and my dad was calling out for me. I couldn't see him, because my room was full of smoke. I was coughing, and wanted to call out for help but I couldn't breathe. I hid under my blanket, and waited for my dad to come get me, but I fell asleep. When I woke up everyone was gone, and our house was gone too. The voice said, becoming more and more alarmed with relived panic. The voice suddenly broke and it sounded as if it were crying. I kept calling out for everyone, but no one came! I've been waiting here on my swing, and watching for them to come home and get me, but they never do. I watch every day, and I used to call out for them every day too, but no one ever heard me. Strangers come here sometimes, but they all ignore me. I ask them if they know when my parents will come home, and they act like they can't even see me. Roan listened intently, expression solemn. "How long have you been waiting here, Joseph?" He asked, kneeling by the swing. I don't know anymore... A long time, I know that. So long... The boy responded wearily. "Long enough that you should have grown up by now? This house has been gone a long time Joseph." Roan pointed out. What do you mean? The boy asked, clearly confused. "I mean your parents didn't leave you. You left them. You've passed on Joseph. There's nothing here for you anymore." Roan said calmly, trying to soften the words as best he was able. You mean I'm...? No, that's not true! My mom and dad need to come get me! I'm scared and alone, and I just need them to come get me and everything will be ok! Everything will be ok... The voice responded, breaking into fresh sobs. "I'm sorry, but they've left this place behind. I'm sure they did all they could for you, but you've been gone for a long time Joseph. If you want to see your parents once more, you'll have to let go. You need to move on from this world." But...but...How? Where do I go? How will I know where to find them? I don't know what to do... "I'm sorry. I don't know the answer to those questions. All I know is that's the first step. Your parents are probably looking for you too, and maybe you'll find each other if you look hard enough. First you need to move on from here though. For your sake and theirs." Roan said reassuringly. There was silence for a long while, with occasional sobbing. Finally there was the sound of a deep breath. Okay, I'll try. Thank you, Roan. Joseph's voice was steady again. There was a feeling of static, and suddenly the swing began to slowly show the signs of wear that the rest of the house reflected. Color leeched from the wood of the seat, and the rope holding it began to fray. If you see my sister, can you tell her to find us too when she's ready? I don't think she's gone yet, but I feel like she might still be living nearby. The voice was quieter now, as if fading away. And can you give her back her comb? I buried it under the swing. "I will." Roan promised. It wasn't rare for spirits to have some last insight into things or remember one last task undone as they passed on, and often they'd request family be told, especially if that family was nearby. The voice remained silent afterwards, and the swing fully consumed with the years it had not been subjected to while Joseph remained. Roan dug under the swing, and found a small box buried underneath. Opening the box carefully, he found a small comb inside that appeared to be made of some kind of hard material, like shell or bone. It had been painted with flowers, but the old paint was chipped and faded even having been in the protection of the box. Roan put the box carefully in his pack, before standing and walking back toward the village from which he'd come. ************************ It wasn't a terribly long walk back, and he arrived in the village before dusk. Roan began asking around about a boy named Joseph and a fire. It didn't take long before he'd found the boy's sister. A woman of some forty or fifty years now, Emily listened with disbelief as Roan explained what had happened. Tears flooded her eyes as Roan told his story, particularly when he produced the box and she brushed them away angrily when he'd finished. "I wouldn't normally believe you, but..." She trailed off, holding the faded comb and smiling. "You know, I never went back to that house after the fire. Our father carried scars the rest of his life from the burns he got trying to save Joseph from the flames. When they went back to find his body to bury, his spirit never called out to us. Why?" Emily asked. "Sometimes it takes a while for spirits to form or gain consciousness and will. Especially so for children, who are nearly always confused and scared when they pass on." Roan replied. Emily nodded."It's getting dark. Come, stay at my house for the night, I insist." She said, composing herself and leading Roan to her home. Roan accepted her offer for food and a roof over his head for the night happily, thanking her and continuing on his journey to help others the next day.   Roan looked into the alchemist's shop. He'd communed with the spirits, and several townsfolk and guards who'd passed on recently swore that this shop was under close observation by the guard. The owner was suspected of trafficking illegal wares, but hadn't given a reason for the guard to arrest him and searches had revealed no trace of illegal goods. Roan walked into the shop, and the owner greeted him warmly. Roan walked up to the counter, leaning toward the man with a serious expression. "I'm looking for some specialty items." Roan said calmly. The man examined him closely, the smile never leaving his face. "You'll find most of my product on display. If there's a special potion you need, I could procure the materials and have it ready for you within the week. This will carry an increased fee for any exotic materials, you understand." He responded in kind. "A friend of mine, Bartholomew Yates, suggested I could find specialty items. Useful for adventuring and such." Roan replied, dropping the name of a thief who'd been recently killed trying to waylay someone on the highway. This shopkeeper had sold him a watered down healing potion, which had led to his death. However the body hadn't been found yet, so Roan reasoned the shopkeeper shouldn't be wary of the name. "Ah, Bart. I know the man well." The shopkeep said smiling. "I'm afraid he may have mislead you though, I don't stock anything special for adventurers." "Are you quite certain?" Roan asked, taking a large pouch of coins from his pocket and setting it on the counter. Bart had suggested this may happen. He'd also said more gold was the solution. "He seemed very sincere." The wary shopkeep's eyes grew large. "I... I'm sorry. I'm afraid..." He began, when Roan slid another pouch on to the counter. "I'm afraid I must ask you tell no one of this." He finished quietly, motioning for Roan to follow him. *************** Finishing his purchase, Roan immediately sought out the nearest guard and explained what had just happened. The guard seemed somewhat hesitant to believe Roan, but once Roan handed him the goods he'd purchased, the guard followed him back to the shop. The little shopkeep saw them coming and his face became a mask of rage. With nowhere to run, he was caught and hauled off after a quick search of his back room revealed the secret compartment he stored his illegal goods in, thanks to Roan's advice. The guard thanked Roan for his assistance, however Roan insisted he was implicit for purchasing illegal goods. "I've a strong back, and the king has need of labor in the mining camp, has he not?" Roan asked plainly. The guard was hesitant, assuring Roan that his aid in the matter cleared him of guilt in his eyes, but Roan was adamant. The guard begrudgingly hauled him to the prison to await exile to the mining colony of Krakengard.

Comments, Questions, or Suggestions welcome.