Players of Rum and Madness; Post your finished profiles here.

Name: Horacio Engdal


Gender: Male
Age:31
Faction: Torn Sails
Deity: Hecate (Greek Pagan)
Skills:
Cult Hunter: The great skills of Torn Sail members varies a lot. Horacio has dedicated the past 7 years reading every single note and book the Torn sails can provide him on different cults, dwelling far to much on their operations and methods that is good for his own sanity. He hunts cultists most relentlessly, retracing their steps and getting into their dens guns blazing. Cult hunters are rarely long lived for this very reason.

Minor:
Sailing: He is accomplished sailor. He can man almost any position on deck.
Swashbuckling: He used to belong on a ships boarding crew for a reason.

Background; Horacio Engdal is a sailor formerly of the Swedish crown. But his story began far earlier then his first day on shaky legs on a wooden hull out in the Baltic Sea. His story began as a ever bright blue eyed boy in Stockholms slums. He was born to a poor shoemaker named Gustav Engdal who always dreamed big. His son, the only to survive past the first year, he named him Horacio, after the famed roman poet. His father was not illiterate unlike most of his kin, no he took proud in knowing both latin, swedish and even some english. And he taught his son, with discipline and a heavy hand if he had to. The result was a little runt with a mouth that could swear and sweet talk in no less then three languages.

Indeed, his talents came as a natural boost to a almost dangerous charisma. The boy was a natural talented beggar and pickpocket but also a very talented young conartist. He ran the streets with other young boys, ducking city guards as they knew full well what happened to thieves, regardless of their age. His father and mother would beat him, wanting him to see sense but it was all for naught. At the age of 13 he would have to leave his home for all time, after almost being caught stealing from a noble. He somehow managed to bribe his way on board a Prussian ship and left Stockholm a malnourished but eager apprentice on board. He was not yet a man, and the life as a cabinboy was hard. Sailors were not fair folk, they swore and kicked him around and his first month onboard was hell. But he adapted, he learned and became more and more usefull. The ship was only his first vessel. At the age of 20 he returned to Swedish docks. His family was now all dead, having died from poverty and sickness without their sons helping hand.

While he felt a little guilty, he did not stay to ponder. Instead, he found service on a Swedish warship. By now he was a experienced sailor despite his age and he traversed with the giant ship inot battle. In 1790 the Battle for Svensksund ended the Sweden-Russian war once and for all. The greatest victory of Swedish Naval warfare was now a fact. And survivors like Horacio either climbed the ranks quickly or became sought after by other, less savory types. Horacio found himself on a galley as a Privateer of the Norwegian coast. Mainly raiding Danish and English ships. One day his ship came upon a drifting, black vessel. Climbing onboard, they found that everything was soaked with blood, bits and pieces of struggle could be seen but no bodies. The captain was exctatic, the ship was mostly unharmed. If he manned it they could return it to Swedish shores and have it fitted. It would be the haul of the their life. Sadly, the crew was spooked and rightly so. A unnatural storm befell them and in the brief flashes of light that the fire of lightning provided, inhuman beings could be seen. When the storm was over, Horacio sat covering in a corner, their captain and half the crew was dead and gone. They barely made it home. None would believe their stories, and he along with most survivors were believed mad or became the laughingstock of the docks.

Horacio spent 1 year in the gutter when a similair ship came to port. The captain seemingly sught him up specifically. He was Benedict Troelger, captain of the “Dark Drake.” He asked the boy what he was looking at shadows as if they would kill him. Horacio told the man his story and the Captain knew he had found the man he had been looking for. He explained to Horacio that the ship had been a trap, a altar if you will. It drifted in place, luring sailors, often privateers and pirates to board it. And then the uneasy dead on board tear the living apart as living sacrifices . The captain offered Horacio the chance to learn more, to still his terror and get revenge. And so Horacio excepted, joined the Torn sails and the rest is as they say; History.

Name:
Neoklis Cleggett

Gender:
Male

Age:
38

Faction:
None/Ex-lightbringer

Deity:
None

Skills:
Neoklis has a great deal of skill with both a rifle and with swords, having spent the majority of his life with one or the other in his arms. He can count himself amongst some of the most experienced men with either, however as age seems to rapidly be catching up with him things are slowly becoming more and more difficult.

He also has a large amount of experience when it comes to dealing with the nobles, royalty and other assorted wealthy folk around the world. He is able to scheme manipulate and talk his way through most situations – again a result of having far too much practise and experience doing so.

Background:

Neoklis was born on the island of Cyprus to a Greek Cypriot mother and a British father within a hidden Lightbringer stronghold. His childhood and young life were fairly simple, his parents teaching him the ways of their order. He excelled at most things, however was generally considered too clever for his own good. He would often skip out on his studies, practise sessions and even prayer sessions to sneak away and do whatever he pleased, learning that manipulation and simple words where more than adequate to get his own way more than most of the time. As a young man his father began to take him on assignments throughout the eastern world, trying to teach him discipline and to expand his mind to realise how important their work and the work of their lord truly was.

It seemed to work for a while, but soon Neoklis became distracted once more by some of the contacts that he had begun to make in their travels. As he and his father’s relationship began to slowly decline they received dire news. His mother had died, killed randomly by an Ottoman sailor in the market one day – or so the letter from Grandmaster Hugues de Molay had told them. That night a huge argument erupted between the pair, Neoklis’s father wanting them both to return to Cyprus immediately, he however wanting nothing further to do with the Order or their God. He never saw his father again.

Years traveling from there onwards has lead Neoklis all over the world, traveling from one place to another making money and whatever name for himself he was able to. He found himself with a unique set of friends and contacts, become what could almost be described as a smuggler and a tomb-robber (though neither would be quite appropriate). He would do whatever he could with his particular skill set to please his friends by acquiring certain items or artefacts and delivering them as requested. This combined with a slight ‘sell-sword’ aspect to him has lead him to make a fair amount of friends throughout the countries and colonies of the world over the many years.

He has now travelled to the new-world, looking to find his place amongst the new and diverse lands and people, and after spending almost an entire year on a small island fortress in the Caribbean with the governor, he has travelled to the mainland in order to find what comes next.

Name:
William Carlson

Gender:
Male

Age:
41

Faction:
Freemasons

Deity:
God (Christian)

Skills:
Major
Socializing: Carlson, as a member of the nobility, has been a socialite for his entire life. He is suave, sophisticated, and charming; as a result, he can talk his way into or out of many sticky situations. He also has an established network of contacts, with ties anywhere from the Freemasons to the English nobility to mercenary organizations he’s worked with.
Minor
Armed combat: Carlson has been trained in the use of sword and pistol since he could hold them.
Horsemanship: He’s also a damn fine polo player.

Background:
Carlson was born in London, the first son of a very wealthy member of the English nobility. He was trained from a young age to be used to high society; as a result, he was able to become an excellent smooth-talker, establishing connections in high places. At the age of 18, he sought out and joined the Freemasons. Becoming heavily ingrained in their culture and the sense of brotherhood and mutual protection bestowed upon him by the organization, he quickly became a very prominent member. He did extensive charity work with the society, as well as partaking in some of the more secretive that the society played into, the most prominent of these being helping to eliminate a small cult of Glaaki. At 30, he moved from England to the United States and his work really began. He began working out of Boston to crack down on the various cults that had sprung up around the New England area.

Acting as a sort of link between the various Masonic lodges that existed in the area, he established a network that worked closely with Arkham University scholars to eliminate occult gatherings and cult activity. He has very heavy experience dealing with the Esoteric Order of Dagon, since one of their major branches is based in Innsmouth, and has also dealt with a few sects of the cults of Shub Niggurath and Yog-Sothoth.

Once the threat of Jagg’Azish became clear, he was asked to head to New Orleans, where he quickly came in contact with the Masonic Order there and began to formulate a plan.

Name: Hyena Jack

Gender: Male

Age: 33

Faction: Three Snakes

Deity: Ghede Nibo

Skills:
Major Skill Set: All aboard! - Swords and Flintlocks, Close Quarters Combat, Acrobatics, Low-Light Adaptation, basically anything you'd expect of a practiced member of a pirate boarding party.
Minor Skill: Tag! You're it! - Between Jack's decades of playing keep-away with swords and his position as a Jack fights and moves quickly like the animals (and men) he hunts.
Minor Skill: I've got friends in low places. - Between Charbon's years on the job and the Three Snake's influence in Louisiana, Jack has contacts in every port.

Background: Born on a Haitian sugar plantation in 1778, Hyena Jack, as he'd come to be called, was born to a mulatto freedman and a field slave. without the boon of his father's white parentage, Jack was treated as any other slave, growing and working alongside his mother and others while his father served in the Big House. For thirteen years, the young boy's days were spent stripping and chopping sugarcane and his nights learning of his people and the Lao.

In 1791 the Haitian Revolution began. Tensions had been high for sometime as slaves outnumbered their owners 10:1 in most places for several years leading up to the rebellion. As a House Slave, Jack's father was ordered to aid in the defense against the rebellion. Familial bonds were a strong facet of slave community and, as such, rather than defend his masters and put down the family who had raised his son, Jack's father used the time before his betrayal was discovered to smuggle his son off the plantation. With only vague instructions or indeed knowledge of why he needed to flee the island, Jack stowed away on a ship still in port.

Used to little food and impoverished conditions, Jack managed to hide away three weeks off rats he had caught and rainwater that trickled from the main deck before he was found by the ship's quartermaster attempting to steal from the food stores. Whilst being dragged topside, Jack bit and clawed his handlers until he finally broke free. Using his small form and years worth of muscle, Jack climbed, dipped, dodged and scurried the length of the ship and back again evading recapture until the captain had had enough.

Captain Jean-Jacques "Charcoal Jack" Charbon and his ship the Dog Headed Whore were known for crass humor and seeing potential. Most times this equated to noticing a particularly under protected caravan but this time such keen eye proved arguably more useful. Amused but, more importantly, impressed by the youth's antics, the captain took on Jack as his cabin boy. With no name of his own, Jack was christened in his near benefactor's honour. To commemorate the fact humour was the only reason he'd live another day (more likely though a jab at the boy being "darker than Charcoal") Hyena Jack was born.

With nothing to go back to, Jack threw himself into his new position though he lacked his father's dandy love for waiting on his betters. Jack's break wouldn't come for another two years at sea. Pirates by trade, Charbon and his men had made more than a few enemies in their time and, as such, often found themselves under attack.

Often either these battles went in Charbon's favour or his crew would simply flee around the larger navy vessels which hunted them. One such occasion though escape was not an option. Pinned near a reef of the coast of Barbados with no chance to win an open firefight, Charbon had his men load the cannons with great large hooks.

As Charbon and his men traversed the ropes unto the enemy ship, Jack saw the Naval soldiers cutting the ropes from the hooks. Thinking quickly, Jack climbed Charbon's ship's remaining mast and swung across to the other ship. While no way experienced in combat, years of hacking sugarcane meant he knew his way around a knife. Bounding and leaping through the chaos on deck, Jack drove a dagger into the soldier's neck before helping the remaining half of the crew up from the ropes. With the full strength of Charbon's crew and Jack's skirmish of darting attacks, the Dog Headed Whore lived to sail another day.

Proving a useful member of the crew, Jack was appointed to the position of Striker, hunter of man and beast alike both on land and sea. For almost two decades now Jack has sailed with Charbon and his crew hunting, fishing, boarding, sneaking and genuinely living up to the family name. Now a man in his early thirties, Jack is as Charbon has always been: a lover of women, a taker of lives and a sucker for a good joke.

Name: John Kimball
Gender: Male
Age: 37
Faction: None
Deity: Episcopalian (That means essentially agnostic, with better tailoring and a good taste in alcohol.)
Skills: Navigation, Ship-handling, Gunnery. It should also be noted that he is cold-blooded under fire and if he was brave before, now he simply doesn't give a damn about his life anymore. He's a gentleman and knows how to handle a sword and pistol.

Background: Born to a family of flinty New Englanders, of Mayflower descent, John Kimball hails from Newbury, Massachusetts. During the War of Independence he was a tyke, but he grew up with stories of his brother's heroism, real or imagined. Edward Kimball never came back, but John Kimball, the babe of the family, nonetheless followed his brother's footsteps toward the sea. In the years that followed Yorktown, John started as an apprentice and was soon commissioned in the United States Navy as a navigator, a gunnery officer and finally a first mate aboard the USS Philadelphia when it sailed to Tripoli in 1804 to fight the First Barbary War.

Regrettably, the Philadelphia, through a gross mishandling, was run aground and turned into a prize of the Pasha of Tripoli, and the captain, William Bainbridge, elected to surrender to the Pasha, but not before ordering his own First Mate detained for trying to set fire to the powder stores on the Philadelphia rather than let it fall -- Kimball was intent on going down with the ship, whereas others felt that it was best not to antagonize the Pasha by denying him this sudden windfall of a powerful frigate.

Instead, they became hostages of the Pasha, and it was Stephen Decatur who bravely set flame to the Philadelphia to ensure that the prize would not be taken. Months later, when the Marines landed at Tripoli and forced an end to the war, the crew of the Philadelphia was released, and an inquiry was held as to assign responsibility -- William Bainbridge managed to squeak past being held accountable. John Kimball, who attracted the ire of his captain during the course of the captivity in Tripoli, was not so lucky and inherited the blame.

Kimball sailed with merchant crews for a time to make ends meet, though he found that the pleasures of ports like New Orleans had far too many opportunities to squander the profit and his family, out of embarrassment, have essentially disowned him. At this nadir of his life, no one seems desperate enough to hire a ruined naval officer and take a risk on the dubious reputation of a man that seems to live up to it with his wanton ways and taste for drink...