Scent of Blood OOC

[Chainlinc3]

Welcome to Windspeak...

Nero Jameson sat outside his home on the outskirts of town, gazing at the sky as the illumination of the setting sun slowly faded. Today had been a big day. Harvest season meant the town was livelier than ever—especially thanks to a few migrant workers who couldn’t hold their liquor. He chuckled at the thought—it’d been quite some time since Amelia had needed to kick someone out of the tavern, but from what he’d heard, the man had it coming.

There was a noble in town, too—Lord Murdoch, passing through on the way to Nurdon it was rumored. The noble and his entourage had booked the entire inn, at well above the regular rate. Nero had seen the group himself as they came into town. Funny looking procession, if he’d ever seen one. The riding members of the entourage clustered around the carriage, like they were expecting someone to attack the Lord. Now that he thought about it, the carriage itself was strange—all the blinds were drawn, allowing no glimpse of the Lord as he passed. Maybe there’d been a threat on his life or something of the sort—that would certainly explain all the cautiousness.

Regardless, there was something deeper in the air, something stirring, something he hadn’t felt since his youth. Excitement was coming to Windspeak. Maybe even adventure.

But he was too old for that, now. His frail body wouldn’t hold up during travel, much less a fight. No, it’s just him, his books, and his memories these days. He rose, leaning heavily on his walking stick, and slowly made his way into his house, barring the door once it closed.

One could never be too careful.

---

The Setting

Thanos is a world where people are afraid of the dark for very legitimate reasons. Vampires and werewolves, witches and warlocks-- all these and more are very much real. They aren't common in any sense of the word, but there's enough of them that people mostly agree they exist, debating only over the details. Mostly, these predators stick to the big towns-- the smaller villages become ghost towns as people flee after one or two killings, making them hardly worth the travel time.

Despite all these hurdles, Thanos is slowly moving into a Renaissance of sorts-- a few scholars are beginning to ask the bigger questions in life, and a handful are even finding answers. The arts are florishing (in the few settlements that have time for them), scientists are moving past mystic philosophies, and simple machines are being developed.

Magic exists and, while it can’t be directly manipulated without supernatural aid, various individuals have tried to learn its principles and they developed a sort of science based around its control through pre-designed matrices of runes and sigils. They call themselves either thaumaturgists or arcanists, and are as rare as they are mysterious—due to the lack of printing presses or similar devices, most of them directly inherited their tomes and knowledge from a preceding scholar, limiting the spread of the knowledge. Arcane systems tend to be immobile and require quite a significant amount of time and effort to design and create. A few of the great arcanists of legend were supposedly able to design systems small enough to fit on a staff or similar device, but there are no extant examples of this technique.

Faith is another power in Thanos. The Divine Matriarch is a real, physical existence in the world, but She is neither omnipotent nor omniscient. A display of sufficient faith, or the repeated invocation of Her name will conjure a fraction of her power, working to shield the faithful from harm and smite her enemies. There are few people, however, who truly Believe in her—the most an average person could do is stall a foe for a few seconds, longer if they are a creature of the night.

---

About This Roleplay

This RP is about hunting creatures that are smarter, stronger, faster, and have a penchant for gnawing on human flesh. Thanos is a dark world, and, although you will start humbly, the story will see your character rising into a formidable force against the darkness.

The story itself will have a high emphasis on investigation as you hunt various supernatural predators. For example, in the opening arc, it will be up to you all, as the players, to explore the town and look for clues as to who is responsible for the murder, and where they might strike again. This is going to be a rather dark story, so don't come into this expecting a joyous and heroic romp to victory-- you're going to be hunting things that are stronger, faster, and often smarter than your characters, and have a taste for blood to top it off. You won't win every fight, nor will you save everyone who needs saving.

The bulk of the RP will be free-form, with you (as a group) deciding what sort of actions to take, coming to your own conclusions, and picking your own targets (although I don’t guarantee there will always be much of a selection—I’m going to be spending a substantial amount of time fleshing out and populating each area explored in order to be ready for quite literally anything you attempt to do, but this will be time consuming and I can’t promise that I’ll have the motivation to do many of them.) Cooperation in posts is a must, especially when two or three of you want to talk with the same NPC—we’ll probably need to be in the chatbox or talking through other means fairly often to work on posts for this, so if you can’t make yourself at least vaguely available, this isn’t going to work out well for you.

I won’t be participating in this RP, due to the emphasis on creative thinking and information gathering, and me, of course, knowing all the information and, thus, at least several solutions to each problem faced. Instead, I’ll be participating as a GM—generally moderating things, keeping you engaged in the ongoing plot as best I can, and giving you OOC prodding when you need to do something (ie—“I can’t advance the story until your characters go the fuck to sleep! SO GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP!”). Note that you’re free to ignore my prodding—if you want to delay the plot action and engage in character development or other activities, I’m fine with that too.

---

Details on Characters
aka: That ranting you should at least skim.

You, the players, will be people in Windspeak, for whatever reason. Migrant workers, longtime residents, or just passing through—on the night of Nero Jameson’s murder, you are in town and, on hearing of his demise, you investigate for whatever reason.

I don’t want characters who are prepared for hunting the supernatural—combat experience should be minimal, and first-hand experience with night creatures practically nonexistent. You also shouldn’t be well equipped (unless you have legitimate character reasons for having specific equipment—“I’m a hunter and this is my bow” is a good example. “This was my father’s chainsaw lolz!” is not.) The whole point of this is to be average people hearing the call to fight a fight in which they are completely outclassed. You will become prepared with time, but you shouldn’t start that way.

Similarly, I don’t want people who’ve spent their entire lives studying thaumaturgy or theology. Those are power sources your characters will grow into—they might start with a small amount of tutoring in thaumaturgy, or possess a spark of Faith that will eventually grow, but serious power in either is out of the question at the start. The main imperative of the RP is that you will always be outclassed by your foes, having to use every advantage you can find to bring down your quarry—and frankly, as far as the beasts of Thanos go, the one you’ll be up against first isn’t that powerful.

Note that you don’t have to have either of those powers—being a knives and crossbow fighter will be just as much approved of as either of the more “magicky” options.

Aaaaanyway, I think that’s all. Over the next few days I’ll be fleshing out Windspeak in detail, so, let me know if you have any questions regarding the town.

A quick blurb regarding actual character sheets and submission—I’m looking to keep this to four or five people, tops. This is not first-come first-served—If there are more applications than that, I will be choosing from among all of them. Even if there are fewer sheets than that, if I feel there’s something wrong with your character (“I SHOOT LAZOR BEAMS FROM MY FACE!!!”) I’ll likely tell you to go fuck yourself edit it and resubmit. Finally, I don’t want everyone to try to develop in the same way—for example, if the entire party wanted to try and progress into priests who smite the enemy with Her fury, it would be very silly. Try to avoid that sort of redundancy.

And now, the moment that you all some of you have been waiting for, the character sheet.

Character Sheet--
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Appearance: (if you have a picture, please at least include a brief description)
Personality:
Background:
Relevant Equipment & Skills: (remember, nothing too huge, but everyone should probably have something relevant)


PS--
One more thing-- Nero was an somewhat-skilled Arcanist, if you didn’t get that from his mention of his books. If you want your character to have a background in thaumaturgy and they’re a native to Windspeak, having them be his pupil wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Also, don’t concern yourself overly if your character would want to go back to life as normal after dealing with the immediate threat. I’ll be taking care of burning bridges, and hopefully that will keep characters driven onwards in a realistic manner.

[Fadeview]

Name: Doren Fautsul (Fout-sool)
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Appearance: Doren stands about 5'6", with a lean build. His skin is lightly tanned around the hands and eyes, but pale most places else due to his dress. He wears thin furs of various animals, stitched and dyed into a single overcoat. He wears a hood and scarf about his face to keep his breathing quieted. His hands are calloused and his fingertips anything but delicate.
Personality: Doren is not unused to other people, but doesn't know how to converse well. He's used to bartering his wares, but that's about it. He might seem a bit standoffish, but that's only due to lack of societal graces, not lack of trying. He holds ability and strength (in any fashion) above position and rank. He doesn't believe that a king should be a king if he can't defend his people.
He has goals, but he's shoved them aside to avenge Nero. He knew the old man, even sold him some quail and venison occasionally, but his father had known him more intimately. Apparently his father had tried to learn from Nero before failing horribly and (to his father, at least) disgracing the family name. Nero took it in stride, and gave Jair Fautsul a good tip on where to find an old oak tree to make a bow. Ever since then, the Fautsuls have been indebted to Nero.
Background: Doren is the son of a hunter, the son of a son of a hunter, and so on and so forth. He fit a very special niche in Windswept, the man who would go out at dawn, kill whatever woodland creatures he could, and come back to sell them for their furs, meat, beaks, entrails, or whatever you may will from them. He wasn't the best hunter, but he could hit almost anything he aimed at.
His childhood was spent learning to craft his own arrows from strong limbs, and how to take care of his bow. His knives were equally loved. Shiny, kept sharp enough to shave, and perfectly balanced for skinning and cutting muscly tendons. Doren can still remember his first kill.
It wasn't anything impressive, truly. A deer, a single buck out in the woods. His father pointed him out, and handed Doren his bow, Starscream. Doren was nervous until he touched the bow. It felt like a natural extension of himself, as natural and his arms, or his hair. He pulled the string back, aiming just as his father had taught him.
-THWOCK- The arrow struck, killing the buck with a shot through the throat.
That moment burned in Doren's mind when he heard of Nero's death. He had to do something, as a hunter, it was his birthright. After all, if it bled, he could kill it.
Relevant Equipment & Skills: One oak bow, "Starscream". Several arrows with tips of iron, steel, flint (more later, as he gains access to better material) and two knives of steel. He knows how to use a bow and can skin and move silently in wooded areas. But, in one-on-one confrontations at close range, he has NO experience.

[Raziel]

Name: Erik Claville

Age: 30

Gender: Male

Appearance:
When in his human form Erik stands roughly 6’3”, he but a wiry but strong. His eyes are like ice. And he had longish brown hair. In his Wolf form he stands at 7’4”, with coarse brown fur covering every part of his body, the Wolf is incredibly fast and is able to catch most any of the wildlife without breaking a sweat. It is also strong enough to lift loads that would take a team of horses and a dozen men to move. It’s senses are very acute, being able to sense prey from miles away.

Personality: Erik is a loner by choice since he was turned, seeking solace away from those he could potentially harm. He often feels guilty about his condition and is always fighting for control. He hopes to one day completely control the Wolf and therefore no longer have to hide.

Background: When he was discovered, Erik was persecuted by his friends and neighbors so now he wanders from town to town, making enough money to survive by trading the animals he hunts for money and food. He usually stays in town that are near heavily wooded areas or mountains so he can let the Wolf loose during the full moon. He has minute control over the Wolf during the full moon, but enough to keep it from noticing the humans down below.

Relevant Equipment & Skills: Above average strength, speed, and agility. Heightened senses. Hunting knife.

[Enigma's-Soul]

((Please do say something if I'm doing something wrong))

Name: Emma Kraysil
Age: Twenty-four
Gender: Female
Appearance: Emma is a rather tall young woman, standing around 5"7 with a lithe but strong build from her demanding life. Her long limbs remain slender, but are lined with a good enough amount of muscle for her body-type. Covering her face half the time is her dark auburn hair that falls just short of her shoulder blades, an odd hair color for someone with her slightly tanned olive skin tone. Housed in her deep-set eye sockets is her striking dull-violet eyes lined with thick lashes and shadowed by her high-set cheekbones from her angular face.
Dressed in her normal attire, she wears a simple but maneuverable outfit composed of dark brown leather leggings and knee-high boots padded to silence her step. A forest green laced corset over a dirty white long-sleeved undershirt outlines her waist, though she wears a mud-stained light gray overcoat most of the time that keeps it from view. A pair of one-fingered gloves go over her delicate hands to protect her palm when she uses her bow and a blood-red wool scarf wraps around her neck when she goes out. Few pieces of jewelry adorn her form, though a particular ring made of silver on her thumb never comes off as her older brother wears an identical one.
Personality: Emma is a die-hard 'ask-questions-later' kind of person who will often act before thinking a situation through all the way. She is not known for her ability to keep her mouth shut and often spits out whatever she feels needs to be said at the wrong time. Bold with her sharp-tongue, she is not afraid to stand up for what she believes in and will defend that truth to the bitter end. Crude with her words, she is known to be brutally honest and isn't gentle when putting others in their place. Reckless and instinctive, she'll often leap into a dangerous situation head-first with out examining what could happen if something goes wrong.
Despite this, Emma does try her best when it comes to seeing the brighter side of things, though her optimism doesn't come with a sense of dry humor. Getting past her hard outer-shell is a difficult task, but once her friendship is gained, she can prove to be a quite likable person. Witty and a bit of a philosopher, she often describes a trying moment with an old saying or a dumb joke that has no relation to the task at-hand to keep the mood light. Compassion and kindness can be witnessed on rare occasion when she knows that someone needs it and does not simply 'want it'. She is very protective of those she cares about and will often put them before herself, resulting in some perilous positions that have left their mark.
A firm believer in doing what is necessary, it can be hard to tell where exactly Emma stands on the playing board. But, she assures the thoroughly confused that she will never stray from doing the right thing; it's just that she sometimes does it at the wrong time.
Background: Emma is unsure of her young childhood days as most are blurred together in a string of horrific images of an old town where she assumes she was born, but then attacked by a band of rogues. For the rest of her life, she grew up in Windspeak with her older brother, Gabriel, and her parents who later in her life passed away. When she was eight, her father showed her how to handle a bow, soon after gifting her with one on her tenth birthday. She was a born natural and soon needed to learn how to make her own bow and arrows as she grew older.
At the age of twelve, her mother grew very ill and was unable to fight off the sickness after two weeks. Four years later, her father was killed by a drunkard while he was walking home late one night after a long hunt. The deaths of her parents were something Emma struggled with accepting for a long time until Gabriel, her older brother, fell sick as well. Unwilling to loose her only brother, she went out on a mad search for someone who could help. That was the first time she met Nero. The old man helped heal her brother and she pledged her life to him in repayment. In the years of knowing Nero, she learned of the Arcane Arts, though she was never able to understand them or grasp the ability.
Relevant Equipment & Skills: She is a skilled bowman with her very own bow and several arrows, she also is knows a small bit of acrobats. However, she does not know how to handle a blade or fight in any hand-to-hand combat.

((Finished))

[Chainlinc3]

@Raziel-- I've had a chance to speak with some of the others who'd expressed an interest, and they seem to feel that a werewolf character is stretching the rules a bit too far as far as "normal people fighting the supernatural" goes... Sorry. :\
You're welcome to submit a different character, however, if you're still interested.

@Enigma-- I don't want to pass any judgement seeing as it's incomplete, but it looks like your character is coming into this alarmingly well prepared... Herbs indicates some level of medical understanding, lockpicks would make it seem like she's competent in stealth and it's assorted skills, and the bow and dagger show a skill in combat. You haven't filled out the skills section, so I can't be certain, but it makes me concerned. Remember that this RP isn't about a bunch of people who are ready for the fight accepting some call to fight the forces of darkness-- this is about average citizens of a small farming town being forced into the fight because they don't know how else to survive, and then GROWING into the skills and knowledge needed to effectively fight these creatures. So, yeah... the skill set you're presenting, along with the early background (I assume her town was destroyed by some form of night creatures?) is presenting a character who is both prepared and driven to fight these creatures for her own reasons, which is something I'm trying to avoid as much as possible.

I'd love to have you aboard, just need to point those things out-- everything else looks good so far.

[Phi Chisym]

Alright, there's a few thoughts in this that, I know, will have to be scrutinized, but just let me know if they are doable. I like creating various connectors - things that will assist my charrie to enter into situations and connect with other charries. I've also created names of other locations... If you wish for those to change, or already have locations similar that I can use, please let me know. I want to fit onto your map!

Name: Victorie Sybil Mzant
Age: 21
Gender: Female

Appearance: Features


As sweet and as succulent as a spring peach, this charming tailor’s daughter favors her mother’s features – bright green eyes, fair skin, light strawberry blond hair; she looks more suited for the plush green mountains of the High Greys, (her birthland) rather than the golden planes of Windspeak. The only traits granted to her from her father are her height of 5’ 5 1/3”, her unorthodox hearing, and her perfect voice.

Victorie dresses for the occasion, basically because it’s required of her. When working at her parent’s clothing store, she dresses for work: When dying fabric, she dresses in a grungy dress and blouse rainbowed daily by her activity. Her full-figured apron matches. When acting as a seamstress, she dressed appropriately for customers – high neck, long sleeved blouse, long black skirt, corset to match, and sensible shoes; because standing on your feet all day measuring and pressing suits can wear a girl’s feet out – especially when there’s more to her day than that.

After working at her parent’s shop, she heads to the Inn as the evening maid, and dresses as such: hair up and bound by whatever she can find, old skirts to match old aprons, long sleeved blouse knotted high at the neck (because her mother insisted she covers as much as possible), and…don’t forget those sensible shoes. For protection, her mother also asked that she wear special hair pieces called daggerlettes. They are small throwing knives dressed like a woman’s hair accessory. These look like little painted metal leaves in her hair. They look dull enough to look like something not worth stealing, but if anyone tries, Victorie knows enough to draw blood in order to escape a threats.

Often times, after work, she will perform at the restaurant within the Inn, or sneak away from there to the tavern to perform for the lonely, the hard-working, the tired and fray; lifting their spirits with her perfect pitch and her lyre and flute. She would leave stained in the various flavors and colors of the spirits served there when trying to avoid a few stupor advances. A quick return to the Inn gives her a chance to change, before she rushes home before dinner. Her father would have a conniption if he learned of her little secret, for he has raised a very – sensible young lady…

Victorie is a student at St. Ophelia's Institute of New Learning in the noble city of Nurdon where she is studying music (voice and piano). Her goal is to become an amazing performer. Her father disagreed with this, wishing his daughter would follow in his footsteps, but he was buttered up well by his wife to allow her to attend classes during the Winter/Spring sessions. In the Summer/Fall she works for them. In Nurdon, she dawns proper dresses and the finer things her and her mother has made; hats and gloves, jewelry and perfume…and less sensible shoes. She favors blues and greens to brighten up her normally drab attire, taking in the attention she gains when dressed impressively.

Personality:
Victorie is a very well-taught, overly sheltered young lady, who wishes to step out of the box her parents has pampered her in for a more fruitful and enjoyable life. She is a closet rebel – wishing she had the guts to tell her parents how she dislikes working at the shop; how, after living in the big city of Nurdon, she much prefers to continue that lifestyle, rather than live such a mundane existence sewing drab dresses for a handful of country folks.

She enjoys the night-life, even what little night-life present in Windspeak, but she falls hard trying to say such words to her father. His no-nonsense, strict teaching, hardened with a powerful self-righteousness frightens her silent. She just doesn’t believe as much in The Divine Matriarch, but her parents live by it and want her to do the same. But, she wishes to live her life, not theirs. There is just no way to say it – she doesn’t want to break their hearts.

Victorie is very creative and expresses herself in such unique ways, but when it comes to simple expression, simple conversation, she feels as if she has nothing interesting to say; or that her thoughts are beyond anyone’s understandings. She will either stand in a group looking out of place, or sound worse trying to connect to the conversation. She’s just better off singing instead.

At the tailor shop she is an exceptional mastermind with textiles and colors. Someone can ask for a nice dress for a special event, and she seems to create exactly what the customer envisioned. This is the same with song. She gushes with empathy and is able to create music particularly suited to lift a person’s feelings.

Victorie is a very messy artist. Her parents are constantly asking her to clean up her room and her work station at the tailor shop; but that’s why she’s such a great maid and an outstanding artist! It astonishes her parents when Olvr and Pheobri Proske (CAG’s), the managers of the Inn, tell them how excellent of a job she does there, and how delighted their guest are when they enter one of the rooms she’s tended. She figures that she cares for other’s things better than she cares for her own. But, in all honesty, she just likes someone else to clean up her messes for once.

Likes: She’s a lover of art and music and great conversation (when she is comfortable enough to participate); likes to shop and has a flawless fashion sense.

Dislikes: People who move their lips and lies fall out, rain – she’s not too fond of it, even though it’s well prayed for in a farming town.

Her Fear: to die without learning who she is - without reaching her dreams.

Strong side: Creative, comes up with unique ideas for strange situations, a brainstormer of such antics. She’s great with her hands – always finding a ways to make something vital out of something unnecessary. If she was lost in the woods for a spell, she would figure out a way to make herself a shelter, find food and water, and protection without anything more than her creativity and her daggerlettes.

She has outstanding hearing, able to hear and sing perfect pitch, and hear other low levels of sound. Speaking softly near her is not going to work. Even in another room she can hear a conversation fairly well.

Weak side: She’s not in command of herself sometimes, being more erratic than controlled. It’s just that when she sees or hears something inspiring, she just has to note it, or turn it into song, or art. (Slightly low attention span, at times.) Her hands are constantly moving and she has to be doing something or she’ll become bored and irritating. Yes, she is a spoiled little thing, but one who is trying so hard to remove that sound from her voice.

(A lot of her weaknesses and little flaws will become figments of her imagination when her whole world turns upside down.)

Background:
Her parents, Castor and Marcessa Mzant (CAG’s) moved to her father’s hometown of Windspeak when Victorie was just two years old. They left Eiton to get away from the ocean and the fishing town. Her parents’ didn’t care for the likes of seamen, especially when they were raising a little girl.

Victorie grew up fairly normal, had a few friends but not anyone who truly was a friend. Most kids just hung around her because she was pretty, because she could sing, and because she was well-to-do. Not because she was a fun kid to play with.

She started working at the shop when she was eight, helping her mother with pattern-making, dying fabrics and dealing with the fabric inventory with her father. Soon, she was a regular at the sewing machine, whipping out dresses, scarves, gloves, hats and anything else her mother needed help with; humming as she worked.

When she was 14 and dreaming of going to St. Ophelia's (something even her parents couldn't afford for her to do), she choose to work a second job at the Inn. By the time she was 20, she had enough money to leave for Nurdon, to settle there at a nice boarding house owned by a friend of the family, and to find a job as - a seamstress - while attending classes.

Because of her jobs, she gets to meet a lot of people in Windspeak. By the time she was of age she knew everyone in Windspeak - their parents, their parent’s parents, and then some. Her and her mother had a special way of caring for their neighbors in town, which only created more business. They would help some of the poorer farm families by making clothing for them and their children, or collected hand-me-downs; so they could save money to purchase other necessities. They also had a house-call service for the older generations in their town. They would visit them at home to get measurements, allow them to select fabric of their liking, in which they would return to the shop and work on their new attire. Then, they would deliver the clothes and stay for fittings and alterations. People loved their house-call tailors and would make efforts to bring other business to them because of their generosity. This is how she met Nero.

Nero was one of the few people Victorie could talk to. Just like Olvr and Pheobri, he understood her interest, her vibrant, artistic ways of expression, and he enjoyed her singing. She enjoyed his many stories of old folk tales and histories that were long forgotten. She kept these stories to herself, for inspiration, but mainly because if her parents knew what they were about, they would definitely keep her away from him.

The one thing she truly liked about Nero was that he was intelligent – a trait lost in the grain fields and the barns of a farming community. He knew a lot of things, even a few things the professors at St. Ophelia's spoke about (not extensively). She was able to ask him questions that she knew her parents would never answer, on odd ideas and beliefs and science; all the various notions that sparked curiosity in her, things she felt could be expressed in art and music. His loss will create a little hole in her, one that was once filled with comfort and confidence in her true self. He never told her who she should be, but helped her see who she was becoming.

Relevant Equipment & Skills:
Victorie is skilled at tailoring, pattern-making, fabric dying and sewing. She has a great eye for color and knows exactly how to dress any body form. She can make a farmer’s boy look like a noble, and a maid look like a queen, and she can do so with just a few items on hand. She has a great set of ears, to sing in tune, or to eavesdrop on a private conversation. This can, and probably will, get her into trouble… Other skills are simple – she can clean well (when required), she’s an entertainer (even though she can’t hold a conversation until she’s comfortable with the person she’s talking to), and she’s full of information on history and odd folklore (thanks to Nero).

She has a journal where she writes her thoughts, songs, and sketches inspiring things. This little book may hold a few things from the mind of Nero… Her daggerlettes are her only weapons, but she has her creativity which can be just as sharp. She also has a lyre and a flute which are normally with her.


This is my other CAG, who may - or may not - be used... Who knows.

Name: Soriee Proske
(Olvr and Pheobri’s only daughter) (CAG Charrie)
Age: 14
Gender: Female

Appearance: Features


4’3”, about 118 lbs, blossoming like every young 14 year old; dark blond hair, dark grey blue eyes, light tan. She wears her normal work attire: grey and white uniform dress, apron and head cover, when she is working at Mayor Heinsmen’s (CAG)manor. At home, she wears trousers and a blouse tucked in with a belt, mostly in browns and yellows (her favorite color). On Fridays, when she returns to town for Mistress Clarantine Heinsmen’s (CAG)lessons, she will wear one of the nicer dresses Victorie passed down to her.

Personality:
She’s a soft-spoken, easily forgotten; yet, bubbly, refreshing, tomboy who gets into a lot of trouble – and dirt – on a daily basis. Even though she is being trained well under Mistress Heinsmen’s instruction, she tends to drop it all at the front door when she’s leaves.

Likes: She adores being the center of attention – especially when causing a ruckus. Since no one really pays attention to her, for they rarely realizes that she’s present, Soriee will sometime find ways to get their attention – regardless of the consequences.

Dislikes: She dislikes being told what to do. The only reason she tolerates it from The Heinsmens is because they are her employees and they are also powerful enough to damage her parents’ reputations. She listens to her parents well, but there’s just some things she must put her foot down on – like dressing her hair up like a doll’s, or making her take dancing lessons. That just won’t do!

Strengths: She’s not a quitter. This can become a big problem sometimes, because she just doesn’t know when to stop.

Weaknesses: She doesn’t know when to stop….

Fears: She’s a bit fearless, but one thing she is afraid of is losing the people she loves – because then what would she do with herself?

Background:
Soriee works as a laundry girl at Mayor Heinsmen’s manor. She tends to the household linens every Monday and Saturday. Clothing is washed on Tuesdays and Fridays. Ironing is done on Wednesdays and Thursdays. She shares this job with two other girls. On Fridays she is allowed a half-day break. The other half of the day is spent with Mistress Heinsmen, who is also the owner of the town’s flower shop. Mistress Heinsmen makes a point to teach all the young ladies in service for them the basic skills in poise and charm, respect and chastity, embroidery and other lady-like crafts; hoping these farmer’s girls will grow up to become positive influences in their community.

The Proskes sent Soriee there mainly because she’s a bit of a tomboy. She likes riding horses, throwing down with the boys in the wheat fields (and winning), and going fishing with her dad. They just want her to learn more lady-like skills. Once, they asked Victorie’s mom if she would teach her a bit about sewing and fashion, but all she ended up doing at the tailor shop was playing with Victorie and wasting time.

She looks up to Victorie as a big sister, being the lady she will – one day – grow up to be, but for now she’s just happy being who she is. The growing up stuff can wait a few more years.

Relevant Equipment & Skills:
She is an excellent rider and had a pony named Cresston that she’d won from one of the farm boys at Heinsmen’s farm. Her father was reluctant to let her keep it, but Olvr had to admit – his daughter was pretty good at tricking the boy out of it. She has her own riding equipment, including a whip that she rarely uses on her pony. She mostly uses it to scare the farm boys – and to get a good laugh.

Mainly, Soriee is beginning to learn her own way, to step from being a little girl, or a tough cookie, and realizing (through Mistress Heinsmen and Victorie) that there’s more to life than being a tomboy. But, she can be a strong woman and a lady at the same time. Now, does Soriee want to change? Not yet, and no one’s going to tell her when.

[Chainlinc3]

@Enigma: Thanks for addressing my concerns-- it all looks good now.

@Phi Chisym: They both look good! My one concern is with The Academy in Nurdon-- an organized system of schooling, rather than individual tutoring, would be a rather new concept in this setting (unless I don't remember my history well enough, which is a definite possibility). The Academy could certainly exist, but it probably would be a relatively small institution and called something a little less pretentious than "THE ACADEMY," you know? Unless you come up with a name for it, I'll probably have a name for it around the time that I get into the history of the Divine Matriarch, make it St. so-and-so's School or something along those lines.

Anyway, I'm getting the actual town of Windspeak more and more populated, and once I have the town population nailed down as at least character sketches, I'll probably post the list up here for people to look at and to see if any catch your interest for characters to either claim or interact with (after all, it's a small town and most everyone knows each other-- everyone probably has some degree of history with everyone else. )

[Phi Chisym]

The reason I thought of The Academy, lacking a better title, was mainly because of the concept you had with the era of Renaissance this world has been building up to. I'd figured, by now, they would have had several institutions of learning established for the new science, the arts and theology of various forms.

For a small country child wishing for bigger things in life and a chance to remove herself from her parents' failures (settling in a dying town or one that's growing no where), the idea of moving away to the city for a worthy education in something of-the-times would be on her minds.

In Victorie's case, she's just one of the fortunate who has the means, and backing, to actually go for it. The main thing with this slight portion of the RP is that she's been away for a while and has plans to return sooner than normal. Nero's death, and several other issues, will literally force her to stay. But, her connection with a few professors in Nurdon will give her a place to ask questions that might come about - perhaps...

Sending a letter or two to an interested professor may allow for a chance at a few knowledgeable CAG's for you to play with... Perhaps one might travel to Windspeak unannounced...at a really bad time... they may just find something they wished they hadn't met.... but, not after revealing a little clue for the party to juggle... MUAHAHAHAHA!

Oh...sorry... Sort of, lost myself there for a second.

Edit: Hey, what about - St. Ophelia's Institute of New Learning? I almost see this as a girls' school, depending if in these times, in this world, they would consider both girls and boys going to the same school inappropriate. If you approve, then this would probably be a girls institute where they study other topics other than the typical womanlike assignments girls would learn from their mothers or older women in their community. This would be an institute that stepped beyond the typical stereotypes and allowed women to learn Philosophy, Science, Theology, The Arts, and so forth.

(If I'm going a bit too far, just say so. When I get an idea, it tends to spread like wildfire. So, take what you want from it, and douse the rest. LOL!)

[Chainlinc3]

You're cool so far.
Yeah, in a world like Thanos, where life can kiiiinda suck (also, female religious figure), gender roles are very fluid-- people tend to do whatever the hell they're good at. Likewise, schools wouldn't necessarily be gender specific (though, there would probably be some which are as well).

Unless you guys put very little pressure on the criminal, you guys won't be staying in Windspeak for terribly long, so don't get too attached to sticking around there. You'll definitely be back over time, but the way I expect things to play out... yeah. Don't want to spoil, but you probably won't stick around that long.

[Kail DeWraith]

Name: William McKinnon


Age: 38


Gender: Male


Appearance: William stands close to 6’7”, has very broad shoulders, and his frame is thick with muscle. He has brown eyes, dark brown hair that falls around shoulder length long and a beard that flows down to his chest. Both his hair and beard have graying streaks in them. His chest and arms are tattooed with symbols of his heritage. He is normally seen wearing sturdy wool pants, a light wool shirt, boots that reach midway up his calf, and a thick leather belt.


Personality: William is a fairly quiet man. Most people think William is slow mentally but that is definitely not the case. The large man always takes his time in speaking and acting because his greatest fear is hurting someone emotionally or physically. William does have a very explosive temper when he is pushed far enough along. Very few have seen what happens when he snaps but those who have seen it wish they had not.


Background: William had grown up working in his father’s smithy. Being a blacksmith is all he has known for the 38 years he has been alive. Under the master eye of his father William learned to tools, wagon wheels, axles, weapons, armor, and hunting traps. His ability to work with his hands even surprised his own father.

At the young age of 18 William got married to the love of his life. They had two sons and a daughter. William left his home village after his father sold the smithy to a nobleman. Angry with how his father “betrayed” him, William took his small family to the road. They travelled from town to town for a year until they ended up in Windspeak.

After settling in as the new town blacksmith winter came quickly. With the winter came sickness. His wife, sons, and daughter all fell ill. Nero came and tried to heal the small family. But nothing would work. All Nero could do was sooth the pain William’s family was in. After months of battling the sickness, William put his family to rest. On the out skirts of town he laid his dead with, both sons, and daughter on a funeral pyre. With only Nero in attendance, William watched his life go up in flames. The month’s following was dark for William. He drank more and more slowly becoming known as the town drunk. He worked around the clock in his shop melting, grinding, sharpening, and pounding steel. With the more drinking, the more work, the more aged William became.

Now, William is normally seen working in his smithy, at the tavern, or passed out somewhere in town. He is even now more reclusive than ever.


Relevant Equipment & Skills: Master blacksmith, very knowledgeable with forming steel, and very good with his hands. He always carries a long knife on his right hip and a pipe his wife had given him for one of his birthdays.

[Phi Chisym]

Just checking up on this RP...seeing if it is still a possibility.

[Chainlinc3]

Hypothetically, but growing less likely. A few of the people I was counting on fell through, so we have (at most-- I'm assuming at least one of the others has fallen to inactivity like I so nearly did) three people for this, which is, I suppose, just barely enough to make the story interesting... But I'd prefer to have more, and they just don't seem forthcoming. So...

Yeah. I guess you can interpret that as you will.

[Eternity]

Name: Catherine Mezerin Nash

Age: 31

Gender: Female

__________________________________

Appearance: Mezerin is no woman who looks to be delicate or appealing by common standards. If anything, she's a bit on the intimidating side. She stands easily at 5'9, built with wiry muscle and a lean, heavily athletic build due to her previous travels. Her freckled skin is richly tanned, lined with a multitude of marks from her aforementioned freckling on to scars and natural dyes (tattoos done in the more tribal fashions). Atop this form, clothed in loose hide breeches that fall around flat-bottomed traveling boots of a dark cocoa spotted with pale worn patches, is a face that says it all. Gaunt cheeks, with a defined bone structure from her firm cheekbones to her angular, somewhat wide jaw. Her lips are rather thinly set, perhaps only by their expression, with a more reddish brown tint from her natural tan that pairs well with the thick curls of red that drape down her shoulders and back often witnessed in a messy up-do held by wooden pins. Her eyes are narrow, and she has a slightly weary but heavily determined and meritoriously adamant look about her when she casts those dark, midnight oceanic blues upon another. She's often seen here or there, doing whatever work she can that's often associated with harder labors, clad in her hide bottoms and traveling boots, with a sleeveless top of several materials between tan and dark chocolate colors that are patched together with a yellowy threading. And Mezerin is rarely seen without dirt, blood, or sweat attributed to her somewhere along the line.

__________________________________

Personality: Blunt would be the starter. Mezerin is one who believes her opinion should often be forefront with others. Perhaps this is the method to which she remains more to herself, running off the weak-hearted who are left staring up to this wordy and sometimes foul-mouthed woman of the wood. If Mezerin doesn't speak her mind about you all the time, then it might just be a sign of favor. Otherwise, she's tough, and it shows in the way she conducts herself. She believes in hard work, and always keeping herself busy often for reasons unknown. To most she just comes off as a stubborn, boyish mule who is- while somewhat brutish in the exterior sense- undeniably respectable for her sense of will, drive, and respect to those whom she cares for. Should one take the time to get to know Mezerin a bit more than what simply reveals itself on her one-sided surface, they would realize that she's quite the knowledgeable thing, and has a wider way of doing things when she so wishes. And she's not so bad- all in all.

__________________________________

Background: Kathy, that's what they called her. That little girl, living on a large, distinctive farm known by the locals at that time for its great crops and warm welcomes. She herself tended the animals, milking cows and checking for chicken eggs in the pen, a simple day's work always suitable as she did even her part to make the family work. But alas, a story set for a perfect ending and bedtime story would not lead to the woman she'd later become...

It all began with an odd visitor, D'Banis, his name had been. Perhaps a thief in disguise, or maybe just a skilled con-artist of other means and methods. The Nash family had always opened up their home to a lone passerby or orphan in need of a night's stay- and this night would be no different. D'Banis was an odd fellow, with a foreign accent and a seemingly noble sense of carrying himself. Kathy herself had been so perplexed by this fashionable fellow, that she found herself fawning over his odds and ends, his unique wares and luscious attire. His riches, she soon after began to inquire of, as the night grew thick and she slipped off to the guest room.

A single knock permitted entrance, and from there conversations unraveled about long-winded tales of magic, of the divine and not-so holy, and of the scriptures of old. Of things beyond one's common concept- it was enough to enrapture a child in a thick, tangled web of daydreams and a deep well of wishes. It was these very stories that Kathy could not get enough of, as D'Banis took off two hours from the morning light, and little Catherine followed...

She'd tracked behind him for a few hours, feeling safely about forty feet in his wake, a handful of long paces but she could smell his manly but elegant perfume, his scent of fresh parchment, and she followed its separation from the rest of the wildlife. But alas, after a day's travel, she found herself only immersed in the very woods she'd begun in, and night was falling. Kathy had always been warned about how dangerous it was outside of the house when night fell. And the scent of the man was gone.

So she did what she could, what made sense to do. Kathy turned around and began to run, trying to find her way home, to retrace her tracks. But she'd never been far from the farm before, tracking was not yet a skill of hers. She ran and ran, 'til her legs grew tired and her eyes weary, her belly growling- though it was not the only thing. The howl of coyotes and the calls of the evening flock rang out, and she soon collapsed tired and hungry.

The next day, she did not wake in the woods, nor did she wake on the Nash farm. She woke in a foreign place, surrounded by huts and shacks more shabbily built than the homes she'd seen, with people who lived off of the earth and traded with one another. Nomads, hunters, and others who were a bit less kosher. Kathy didn't know where she was, but these people didn't recognize the name of where she had come from, and they knew not of her family. Perhaps it was all lost to her now. But she did not worry too much, this new world was amazing. People held not of their tongue and its dangerous words to her, and the stories she heard of were just as mystical and commanding as those tales from the traveler. So, after a few days of deciding, Kathy felt this was her place...

Ten years passed, lending her to the age of twenty-one. A fresh young woman, though tall and already tough. She had learned how to live off of the land, and she'd passed from one place to the next with her friends and new family. She'd become a hunter and collector with the men, going out into the woods and plains to gather food in both wild game and vegetables. And Kathy had also learned of love, from her years of sixteen to now present-time with a somewhat older male who guarded the nomads. Surely enough, she also bore his seed within her, ready to give birth soon enough.

At twenty-two, Kathy had a son, a boy she named Daniel Banis Naxem. A beloved son, between herself and her lover, but alas it did not stop her from doing her part with the family she now had. But it was this that perhaps led to troubled times for her.

A visitor came, a traveler who asked to stay with the nomads. When she heard the whispers of his name, smelled that elegant scent of books and fragrant high-end musk, she knew it to be D'Banis. And her curiosity sparked once more, that she went to him and stayed the night. Again, he wove tales for her, seemingly having barely aged in the rough decade that passed as he informed her at night's end, that tragedy seemed to strike wherever he went. For her to leave, when he left, as she had done earlier.

How foolish, tragedy? No, she'd found adventure when he came- but she did not know of the fire that consumed her parents' farm and left them with nothing. She'd found the nomads, and she would not leave them now.

Two days after D'Banis left, Daniel fell and scratched his knee. A month later, his leg was covered in a flesh-eating bacteria, and the infection was rapidly spreading upwards. Panicked, Kathy readied to travel outwards towards the towns and cities to find a medicine to cure him, but her lover was a step ahead. Framing this as her own doing, he stole away their son in the night and fled to who knows where to amputate the leg and have him treated. With this major event taking way, the nomads were split, and she herself parted as they seemed to do, leaving only small clusters of people to carry on their tales and friendship.

After that, the rest was set in stone. Catherine found herself in a new town, where the only work was with the lumberers, and she went by her middle name Mezerin. She worked hard for a few years there, quiet and to herself, and growing more snappy with those who tried to crack her of where she'd come from and who she was. Then, when the time came, she up and left. Progressing on to the next town, then the next, and the next...

At present date, she has begun her thirties, though she doesn't keep up with how old she is by any means. She's become experienced in a multitude of things, but right now she lives a quiet, solitary life in a small cabin on the outskirts of Windspeak. She's taking up labor with harvesting the readying crop, often a migrant or man's task- but she has no qualms. The only time she's often seen is at evening's end, taking a drink in the tavern and contemplating the next place she'll go.

__________________________________

Relevant Equipment & Skills:
~Aptitude in the Wild- Mezerin is naturally adept with living in the wild. She knows her way around by looking at the terrain and the sky- she's quite the tracker as well. With this, she also has become accustomed to finding water in wild, while also acquiring a skill for hunting- though she's no master at it.

~Bullheaded and Otherwise- Her strong adamant nature makes her often one for good interrogation. If this were on terms of good cop bad cop, she'd be the bad cop. She can often use wording and intimidation to get the truth out of people, though she rarely needs it. And just as strong as her head, is her hand. After her labor with the lumberers, Mezerin has become quite strong and a fond one of bar-fights (preferably with loud unstable drunks) when she's overly bored or in need of letting out aggression that can't be done through verbal means.

-Item: Machete-
On her left hip she carries a helpful and uniquely forged machete, with a one-sided blade that at the end is smooth and sharp coming to a nice point, for cutting through foliage and limbs, while the bottom part of the blade has a rough almost serrated look for sawing small trees.

-Item: Belt-
Not just a belt to hold her odd hide pants up, but one with a multitude of little leather pouches. They carry a variety of things: bandages (for cuts and scratches, nothing major), thread and needle (for the undoings of her attire that may need fixing), cured bison strips (often for random snacking on her work breaks), mint leaves (a homely little cure for upset stomach), and a small pouch dedicated to other things she finds, hence it's empty state.

-Item: Canteen-
A canteen that is often filled or at least halfway full of water- though many might guess it's something a bit more potent.

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