[CHAR] Steamtown: Blood and Gunpowder
- Large Group
- Post-Apocalyptic
- Advanced
- Steampunk
- Small Group
Join Status:
Full
GM
SAMPLE CS
N A M E
“Quotation here.”
NAME
First then last, no commas (unless it's John Smith, Sr. or Jane Doe, Jr.).
ALIAS
Nicknames and alternate identities.
GENDER
Male/female/other (if other, elaborate)
SKILLS
Smooth talker? Gunslinger? What can your character do that could give them an edge?
PERSONALITY
How does your character interact with people? How does your character think? What is their usual attitude?
HISTORY
Your character's story from whatever point you chose.
INVENTORY
What's in your character's pockets?
REASON FOR VISITING
Why has your character come to Blackfinger?
RELATIONS
Please put relations in hiders.
[center][b][h1][color=white]N A M E[/color][/h1][/b]
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[b][i][color=white]“Quotation here.”[/color][/i][/b][/center]
[color=white][b]NAME[/b][/color]
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[color=white][b]ALIAS[/b][/color]
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[color=white][b]GENDER[/b][/color]
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[color=white][b]SKILLS[/b][/color]
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[color=white][b]PERSONALITY[/b][/color]
[hr ][hr ][indent][color=gray]P L A C E H O L D E R T E X T[/color][/indent]
[color=white][b]HISTORY[/b][/color]
[hr ][hr ][indent][color=gray]P L A C E H O L D E R T E X T[/color][/indent]
[color=white][b]INVENTORY[/b][/color]
[hr ][hr ][indent][color=gray]P L A C E H O L D E R T E X T[/color][/indent]
[color=white][b]REASON FOR VISITING[/b][/color]
[hr ][hr ][indent][color=gray]P L A C E H O L D E R T E X T[/color][/indent]
[color=white][b]RELATIONS[/b][/color]
[hr ][hr ][indent][color=gray]P L A C E H O L D E R T E X T[/color][/indent][/indent]Change all the
[color=white][/color] to your character's color, and get rid of the spaces in the hr tagsBig thanks to the lovely @ADParis for this awesome CS.
1x Thank
coGM
“It is better to be young in your failures than old in your successes.”
NAME
Maybelline Waters
ALIAS
May, Maybe
GENDER
Female
SKILLS
Barger: The name “Waters” is synonymous with the barges, ferries, and naval trade of the old Mississippi River thus it should come to no surprise that Maybelline was taught everything she was needed and expected to know regarding to the matter. She knows the inner workings of riverboats, their design, the rivers they travel on, and how to pilot them if need be.
Bard: Second to her fascination with books, Maybelline has been tutored in the art of songcraft. She understands and adores music, though she often believed that her parents attempted to use her frustratingly photographic memory to their benefit in attempting to make her some sort of intellectual and artistic savant. That said, she still enjoys the piano and singing.
Eidetic Memory: When Maybelline was very young she was discovered to have a talent for recollection, a talent that she often and perhaps still doesn’t fully understand—eidetic memory. It is with this photographic recollection that she has an affinity for things that are beyond many of her peers and in combination with comprehensive abilities that she will never miss even the smallest detail.
Literate: The biggest aspect of Maybelline’s talents is the fact that she is literate, though as a member of the Waters family this is something that surprises absolutely no one. Beyond her instruction in what words mean and how to write them it could be said that Maybelline really really likes books. In fact, her father had once joked that there is not a single book in Blackfinger that has not been graced by her attentive interest—he wouldn’t be wrong.
Quickdraw: Whilst Maybelline lacks the ability to shoot exceptionally well, she could probably win out on drawing her weapon first—a skill that may save her life against more skilled sharpshooters down the line. This is presuming she would get into such a situation, of course.
Bard: Second to her fascination with books, Maybelline has been tutored in the art of songcraft. She understands and adores music, though she often believed that her parents attempted to use her frustratingly photographic memory to their benefit in attempting to make her some sort of intellectual and artistic savant. That said, she still enjoys the piano and singing.
Eidetic Memory: When Maybelline was very young she was discovered to have a talent for recollection, a talent that she often and perhaps still doesn’t fully understand—eidetic memory. It is with this photographic recollection that she has an affinity for things that are beyond many of her peers and in combination with comprehensive abilities that she will never miss even the smallest detail.
Literate: The biggest aspect of Maybelline’s talents is the fact that she is literate, though as a member of the Waters family this is something that surprises absolutely no one. Beyond her instruction in what words mean and how to write them it could be said that Maybelline really really likes books. In fact, her father had once joked that there is not a single book in Blackfinger that has not been graced by her attentive interest—he wouldn’t be wrong.
Quickdraw: Whilst Maybelline lacks the ability to shoot exceptionally well, she could probably win out on drawing her weapon first—a skill that may save her life against more skilled sharpshooters down the line. This is presuming she would get into such a situation, of course.
PERSONALITY
Boorish
Brusqué
Gregarious
Intrepid
Sardonic
Scholastic
Vexing
Brusqué
Gregarious
Intrepid
Sardonic
Scholastic
Vexing
HISTORY
The daughter of Anderthal Waters and Mackenzie Banks, Maybelline Waters was born and raised in the highest comforts in the city of Blackfinger; though it could be argued her father’s estate, the largest barge docked in the harbor, serves as her primary place of residence.
INVENTORY
Holdout Pistol: Maybelline holds in her inventory a small holdout revolver, though it’s hardly the one trick pony many ladies hold on their person. A twenty-two caliber, the Aberdeen Special is the perfect size to be utilized in tight situations and committed gunfights if so required. It isn’t cumbersome like some of its alternatives and uses a state of the art clockwork mechanism for smooth firing transitions.
Parasol: For all intents and purposes, it’s just an umbrella. Really.
Parasol: For all intents and purposes, it’s just an umbrella. Really.
REASON FOR VISITING
Blackfinger has been home to Maybelline’s family since long before she was born; it is with this in mind that Maybelline is a resident of the upper districts of the city and has a wealth of experience when it comes to knowing the city and getting things done.
RELATIONS
Anderthal Waters, Jr:
Mackenzie Banks:
Iverson Waters:
Geraldine Waters:
Mackenzie Banks:
Iverson Waters:
Geraldine Waters:
Anderthal Waters, Sr:
Alan Booker:
Alan Booker:
---
GM
“I’m a baker. I make bread! I don’t shoot guns!”
NAME
Alan Booker
ALIAS
Al, Allie
GENDER
Male
SKILLS
Baking: Alan is actually quite a good baker, though this skill is less useful on the road. Still, he’s capable of more than baking bread and is a decent cook in a pinch.
Gunfighting: Every young man in the Freetowns is expected to pass basic combat training. Alan is a decent shot with a long gun, but he’s not exactly hardened by years of combat. He can shoot a stationary target, but anything moving or living Al would have trouble with. Ultimately, Alan has never had to take a human life; and the prospect of doing so would terrify him.
Fleet-footed: Alan’s pretty quick, having to grow up running around town a very busy and quite dangerous manufacturing town.
Educated: Unlike 90% of the population, Alan is capable of reading and writing (skills forgotten when survival is paramount). He’s a rare person who can actually man heads or tails of his father’s library.
Gunfighting: Every young man in the Freetowns is expected to pass basic combat training. Alan is a decent shot with a long gun, but he’s not exactly hardened by years of combat. He can shoot a stationary target, but anything moving or living Al would have trouble with. Ultimately, Alan has never had to take a human life; and the prospect of doing so would terrify him.
Fleet-footed: Alan’s pretty quick, having to grow up running around town a very busy and quite dangerous manufacturing town.
Educated: Unlike 90% of the population, Alan is capable of reading and writing (skills forgotten when survival is paramount). He’s a rare person who can actually man heads or tails of his father’s library.
PERSONALITY
Alan is a surprisingly high-strung young man. He’s spent the majority of his life trying to live up to both his father’s and his grandfather’s expectations for himself. This has made him slightly neurotic and fretting over little things. He also carries a deep sadness after his mother’s death from influenza when he was young. Due to his sheltered upbringing in the safety of Baker’s Rest, and due to his family; Alan has had the luxury of growing up with an idealistic nature, apart from the dark cynicism of the world around him. He holds a slight desire for adventure held back by his need for familial approval.
A good way to describe Alan at first sight would be lonely. Alan's place as both the son and grandson of two of the most powerful men in town never did him much credit with his peers. Alan's is a quest for belonging in a world that is harsh and cold; and the further Alan moves from home the less identity he has of who is is supposed to be compared to what he has to be.
A good way to describe Alan at first sight would be lonely. Alan's place as both the son and grandson of two of the most powerful men in town never did him much credit with his peers. Alan's is a quest for belonging in a world that is harsh and cold; and the further Alan moves from home the less identity he has of who is is supposed to be compared to what he has to be.
HISTORY
Alan was born in Baker’s Rest twenty two years ago and has never left the city once. His youth was happy, with a doting mother, a kind grandfather and a stern but loving father. That changed when he was nine, and his mother was stricken with influenza; dying that winter. Alan’s father grew cold, his grandfather grew bitter, and Alan felt a deep divide between himself and the rest of the city. Alan’s only goals in life are to make his family proud, and to be the best baker that he can be. Of course, the hand of fate is cruel and has other things in store for Alan besides warm French loaves.
After his mother's death, Alan receeded from others; which only added to the stress of his place in the city. With few friends and a cold reception at his own home, Alan seeks approval from his work; and dived both into his training as a baker and at his tuteledge under his father. While he claims only to be a simple baker, Alan has had a large education from his father's library; giving him suprising knowledge and understanding in the most odd times.
The irony of Alan's name not matching up with his occupation was never lost on him, either. Nor was his father's insistence that he learn to read and write; even though his own expectations were that he would be a Baker like his mother and grandfather. Alan's entire life has been a strange misunderstanding of his expectations versus reality. Alan's only real friend is Maybeline Waters, the daughter of the biggest bargers in town and granddaughter of another councilmember. Their shared lot in life at the very least has given Alan someone to connect with.
Alan's place in the world is shadowed by his family; his father and grandfather's place in town and also their history before Blackfinger. Alan's own knowledge of his family's past is something that has been locked away from his prying eyes and ears; and he has no idea beyond the fact that his father arrived in Baker's Rest twenty two years ago and in that span of time both Baker's Rest and many of the other Freetowns experienced a boom in both economic prosperity and invention.
After his mother's death, Alan receeded from others; which only added to the stress of his place in the city. With few friends and a cold reception at his own home, Alan seeks approval from his work; and dived both into his training as a baker and at his tuteledge under his father. While he claims only to be a simple baker, Alan has had a large education from his father's library; giving him suprising knowledge and understanding in the most odd times.
The irony of Alan's name not matching up with his occupation was never lost on him, either. Nor was his father's insistence that he learn to read and write; even though his own expectations were that he would be a Baker like his mother and grandfather. Alan's entire life has been a strange misunderstanding of his expectations versus reality. Alan's only real friend is Maybeline Waters, the daughter of the biggest bargers in town and granddaughter of another councilmember. Their shared lot in life at the very least has given Alan someone to connect with.
Alan's place in the world is shadowed by his family; his father and grandfather's place in town and also their history before Blackfinger. Alan's own knowledge of his family's past is something that has been locked away from his prying eyes and ears; and he has no idea beyond the fact that his father arrived in Baker's Rest twenty two years ago and in that span of time both Baker's Rest and many of the other Freetowns experienced a boom in both economic prosperity and invention.
INVENTORY
-Cooking tools: Simple cooking tools including a pot, pan, and ladle. Perfect for cooking on the trails.
-Wilson Model 22 Holdout Pistol (4 rounds): A Blackfinger designed pistol, the Wilson sacrifices capacity and accuracy for a smaller concealable frame; easily fitting in the pocket. The .36 caliber rounds lack heavy stopping power or kinetic force; but allow for deeper control when fired from the hip.
-Wilson Model 22 Holdout Pistol (4 rounds): A Blackfinger designed pistol, the Wilson sacrifices capacity and accuracy for a smaller concealable frame; easily fitting in the pocket. The .36 caliber rounds lack heavy stopping power or kinetic force; but allow for deeper control when fired from the hip.
REASON FOR VISITING
Alan isn’t visiting! He lives here! Still; Alan’s reason for being out in the city instead of cooped up inside is simple: it’s Market Day at Baker’s Rest, and that means it’s time for him to show his grandfather that he can sell bread just as well as he can bake it!
RELATIONS
Paul Booker: If any word could sum up Paul Booker best, it would be aloof. Silently grieving his wife's passing for thirteen years, Paul threw himself into his collection of books and notes. For Alan, his father is a stone faced alien that he tries (and fails) to connect with on a daily basis.
Moira Booker: Before she passed from influenza, Moira was a beloved member of the community. A baker like her father, she taught Alan everything about baking that he knows (though his grandfather would disagree).
Howard Baker: Alan's grandfather is technically the patriarch of Baker's Rest, as his father founded the city forty years ago. Still, it was Paul Booker who brought prosperity to the town; something that Howard will never forgive. Alan cares deeply for his grandfather, and the old man dotes on his grandson, sometimes giving him too much leeway.
Maybeline Waters: The daughter of the most prominent bargers in Blackfinger. Alan has known Maybe all of his life; and she has been one of the few people he could call a friend.
Moira Booker: Before she passed from influenza, Moira was a beloved member of the community. A baker like her father, she taught Alan everything about baking that he knows (though his grandfather would disagree).
Howard Baker: Alan's grandfather is technically the patriarch of Baker's Rest, as his father founded the city forty years ago. Still, it was Paul Booker who brought prosperity to the town; something that Howard will never forgive. Alan cares deeply for his grandfather, and the old man dotes on his grandson, sometimes giving him too much leeway.
Maybeline Waters: The daughter of the most prominent bargers in Blackfinger. Alan has known Maybe all of his life; and she has been one of the few people he could call a friend.
Mcmolly D-List Cryptid
Member
Seen
6 hrs ago
“Nice piece, how many rounds it got?” “…It’s called a six-shooter, Darce. It’s got six shots.”
NAME
Darcy Marl
ALIAS
”Darce”, “Marl”
GENDER
Female
SKILLS
Give and Take: Darcy’s a sturdy girl, tough enough to headbutt without much of a flinch, and crack a cheek without breaking her knuckles. Turns out getting pummeled frequent and early had its perks.
Clean Shot: Darcy wouldn’t be in this business if she wasn’t passably quick and accurate with a gun. Being a rookie, there’s a lot left to desire, plenty of clumsy habits to kick, but it would be a mistake to underestimate her. Not that she doesn’t love that.
A Thousand Words: In short, Darcy may not be even notably literate, but she is very receptive to faces and voices. These skills are rather useful in finding individuals who may have changed since last meeting, or seeing them.
Look Ma, Both Hands!: Simple enough, Darcy is ambidextrous. Doesn’t help her so much with writing, but it has its uses.
Clean Shot: Darcy wouldn’t be in this business if she wasn’t passably quick and accurate with a gun. Being a rookie, there’s a lot left to desire, plenty of clumsy habits to kick, but it would be a mistake to underestimate her. Not that she doesn’t love that.
A Thousand Words: In short, Darcy may not be even notably literate, but she is very receptive to faces and voices. These skills are rather useful in finding individuals who may have changed since last meeting, or seeing them.
Look Ma, Both Hands!: Simple enough, Darcy is ambidextrous. Doesn’t help her so much with writing, but it has its uses.
PERSONALITY
In old stories, people who slunk about in the shadows, or blended through crowds unnoticed, on the hunt for their fellow man, were feared and revered. They were lauded as refined yet brutal killers, prizing a code of honor and dignity, executing their contracts with deft grace and vanishing in the yet-settled dust. Possessed of high-diction and cut wardrobes, able to shift seamlessly between alley-lurker and aristocratic paragon, these hitmen and women were dark legends.
Darcy possesses few, if any, of these qualities. She’s abrasive and unsubtle, rash, loud, foul-mouthed and blunt, with a penchant for humor in humorless situations. Unlike her unsociable coworkers, she loves a good drink, and likes to make a habit of getting chummy in the saloons wherever she goes.
Her overconfidence and impulsive nature often lead her to say things she can’t back up, or do things she can’t talk her way out of. This, combined with an aversion to apologizing, led to a mostly-friendless professional life.
Still, even the people who don’t like her won’t deny she’s fun to watch, if only for the inevitable crash.
Darcy possesses few, if any, of these qualities. She’s abrasive and unsubtle, rash, loud, foul-mouthed and blunt, with a penchant for humor in humorless situations. Unlike her unsociable coworkers, she loves a good drink, and likes to make a habit of getting chummy in the saloons wherever she goes.
Her overconfidence and impulsive nature often lead her to say things she can’t back up, or do things she can’t talk her way out of. This, combined with an aversion to apologizing, led to a mostly-friendless professional life.
Still, even the people who don’t like her won’t deny she’s fun to watch, if only for the inevitable crash.
HISTORY
Darcy grew up watching trains. In the morning, when pa was still asleep, and ma was reeling from a long high, she’d go out and sit by the tracks while her sister, Sara, brewed something up. In the afternoons, once pa was done throwing his fits, she and Sara would go out on the porch to nurse their blackened eyes, or bloodied noses, and watch from there. At night, though, when the rare trains did come through, were her favorite. Ma would be sober enough to cook dinner, pa would be too drunk to yell, let alone stand, and in the fields it was so quiet, she could hear the tracks rumbling from the table. They’d have lights on them then, big and bright running every cart, like some holy chariot.
When she was ten, and Sara was sixteen, they started getting visits from New Rojas folks. Seven or eight people at a time, men and women in dusters and caps. And guns, they’d always have guns. The first time they came, pa was passed out, a few cornered ma in the living room, the others waited outside with them.
When they left, ma had bruises. Pa eventually woke up, found out what had happened, and how little money they had left, and gave them all a beating. Ma didn’t stop using though, even when Sara tried to get her to. They kept working the farm, she kept splitting the earnings between food, drugs, and debts. They debt pile was never quite big enough.
The third time New Rojas visited, they were broke. Ma begged for another month, Pa offered to let them take her if they’d square the debt. Instead they came to Sara.
“How old are you girls?”
Sara was seventeen, Darcy had only just turned eleven. They said ma could have one more month, then they broke Sara’s arm, and because Darcy was little, they only broke some of her fingers. Pa broke the rest once New Rojas had gone, though.
A month passed, Sara didn’t speak a word the whole time, even when Darcy hugged her, begging. She wouldn’t watch the trains, wouldn’t work the farm despite how many bruises she got for it, wouldn’t do anything but sit and stare, like a gargoyle. Ma tried pleading too, they needed the extra help, even if it was only one hand, and Sara would soften for just a moment, but still wouldn’t budge.
New Rojas came back, and, of course, they didn’t have the money. Pa wanted to fight them off, he’d been a guard once, and was convinced he could take six or seven if he had surprise on his side. They showed up with ten, he got on his knees and groveled with ma. The collectors just about tore the house apart looking for any hidden cash, anything valuable they could sell, but it was true, there just wasn’t enough.
Then Sara said: “Take me.”
“What for?”
“I’ll work off the debt.”
They laughed, Darcy might have too if she were them, it was ridiculous. Sara wasn’t much taller than anyone else, and she was scrawny–they all were, save for pa. One of the collectors asked if she even had the stomach for it. Sara asked for a gun.
Silence, then, for a while. One handed over a pistol, the others didn’t bother being subtle when they aimed at her, but she didn’t seem to care.
“Darce, stay with ma.”
Then Sara grabbed pa by the hair and dragged him, yelping, outside. She threw him to the dirt, told him to run, then shot the ground at his feet when he started questioning her. For how old and out of shape he’d gotten, he was fast, and be it by choice or imbalance, wavered along his way. He almost made it to the crops before she shot him clean through the nape, then he dropped like a sack.
Darcy’s heart nearly stopped, her stomach twisted up, but she stayed quiet, everyone stayed quiet. Sara gave the gun back.
“And I’m not even left-handed.”
The collectors let them say goodbye to ma. Sara, tearful, promised to send money, and if she came back and found out ma was still using, she’d shoot her too.
They got to ride a train to New Rojas, but Darcy couldn’t find joy in it. She wasn’t prepared for the city, it was loud, crowded, and every look was mean or uninterested. The collectors took them to a company building, told them they could stay while everything was sorted out, and left.
Darcy burst into tears, and Sara hugged her close, promising everything would be alright. And for the most part, this was true. They put Sara to work, and even found minor jobs running through the city for Darcy. She got savvy quick, both of them did, it wasn’t good work, it wasn’t clean work, but it was work. After a few years collecting, Sara got wrangled into a different branch of the company, publicly seen as its “bounty office.” In reality, the work was, while similar, much more sinister. She wasn’t a bounty hunter, she was a hitwoman.
Darcy started seeing her less often, but she heard plenty. Sara was a rising star, she was making a name for herself. Every time she’d come back, she’d look a little different, hair cut a new way, a new nick on her skin, even, rarely, a tattoo. Most of the stories Darcy heard came from other folks who went with her on contracts, but Sara would share a few of her solo goings with her, then swear her to secrecy with a smile.
Soon enough, Darcy was old enough to go out collecting, and she was eager to prove herself. A little too eager, sometimes. She developed pugnacious habits, offering debtors chances to pay out with fights, going just a bit too far roughing up late-payers. Many times she had to be reminded of her job, that she wasn’t with the “bounty office” yet, but she was determined to be.
It ended up taking her four years, where Sara had only taken three, but Darcy had started a year earlier, so she squared it off in her mind. Not that it was a competition, of course. She loved her sister, looked up to her like a hero, but she was twenty, it was time to bring her own stories to the table.
When she was ten, and Sara was sixteen, they started getting visits from New Rojas folks. Seven or eight people at a time, men and women in dusters and caps. And guns, they’d always have guns. The first time they came, pa was passed out, a few cornered ma in the living room, the others waited outside with them.
When they left, ma had bruises. Pa eventually woke up, found out what had happened, and how little money they had left, and gave them all a beating. Ma didn’t stop using though, even when Sara tried to get her to. They kept working the farm, she kept splitting the earnings between food, drugs, and debts. They debt pile was never quite big enough.
The third time New Rojas visited, they were broke. Ma begged for another month, Pa offered to let them take her if they’d square the debt. Instead they came to Sara.
“How old are you girls?”
Sara was seventeen, Darcy had only just turned eleven. They said ma could have one more month, then they broke Sara’s arm, and because Darcy was little, they only broke some of her fingers. Pa broke the rest once New Rojas had gone, though.
A month passed, Sara didn’t speak a word the whole time, even when Darcy hugged her, begging. She wouldn’t watch the trains, wouldn’t work the farm despite how many bruises she got for it, wouldn’t do anything but sit and stare, like a gargoyle. Ma tried pleading too, they needed the extra help, even if it was only one hand, and Sara would soften for just a moment, but still wouldn’t budge.
New Rojas came back, and, of course, they didn’t have the money. Pa wanted to fight them off, he’d been a guard once, and was convinced he could take six or seven if he had surprise on his side. They showed up with ten, he got on his knees and groveled with ma. The collectors just about tore the house apart looking for any hidden cash, anything valuable they could sell, but it was true, there just wasn’t enough.
Then Sara said: “Take me.”
“What for?”
“I’ll work off the debt.”
They laughed, Darcy might have too if she were them, it was ridiculous. Sara wasn’t much taller than anyone else, and she was scrawny–they all were, save for pa. One of the collectors asked if she even had the stomach for it. Sara asked for a gun.
Silence, then, for a while. One handed over a pistol, the others didn’t bother being subtle when they aimed at her, but she didn’t seem to care.
“Darce, stay with ma.”
Then Sara grabbed pa by the hair and dragged him, yelping, outside. She threw him to the dirt, told him to run, then shot the ground at his feet when he started questioning her. For how old and out of shape he’d gotten, he was fast, and be it by choice or imbalance, wavered along his way. He almost made it to the crops before she shot him clean through the nape, then he dropped like a sack.
Darcy’s heart nearly stopped, her stomach twisted up, but she stayed quiet, everyone stayed quiet. Sara gave the gun back.
“And I’m not even left-handed.”
The collectors let them say goodbye to ma. Sara, tearful, promised to send money, and if she came back and found out ma was still using, she’d shoot her too.
They got to ride a train to New Rojas, but Darcy couldn’t find joy in it. She wasn’t prepared for the city, it was loud, crowded, and every look was mean or uninterested. The collectors took them to a company building, told them they could stay while everything was sorted out, and left.
Darcy burst into tears, and Sara hugged her close, promising everything would be alright. And for the most part, this was true. They put Sara to work, and even found minor jobs running through the city for Darcy. She got savvy quick, both of them did, it wasn’t good work, it wasn’t clean work, but it was work. After a few years collecting, Sara got wrangled into a different branch of the company, publicly seen as its “bounty office.” In reality, the work was, while similar, much more sinister. She wasn’t a bounty hunter, she was a hitwoman.
Darcy started seeing her less often, but she heard plenty. Sara was a rising star, she was making a name for herself. Every time she’d come back, she’d look a little different, hair cut a new way, a new nick on her skin, even, rarely, a tattoo. Most of the stories Darcy heard came from other folks who went with her on contracts, but Sara would share a few of her solo goings with her, then swear her to secrecy with a smile.
Soon enough, Darcy was old enough to go out collecting, and she was eager to prove herself. A little too eager, sometimes. She developed pugnacious habits, offering debtors chances to pay out with fights, going just a bit too far roughing up late-payers. Many times she had to be reminded of her job, that she wasn’t with the “bounty office” yet, but she was determined to be.
It ended up taking her four years, where Sara had only taken three, but Darcy had started a year earlier, so she squared it off in her mind. Not that it was a competition, of course. She loved her sister, looked up to her like a hero, but she was twenty, it was time to bring her own stories to the table.
INVENTORY
-Wilson .45 Revolver x2
-Wilson Snub-Nose Shotgun
-Serrated Survival Knife
-Wilson Snub-Nose Shotgun
-Serrated Survival Knife
REASON FOR VISITING
Having just completed a contract, Darcy is currently in transit back to New Rojas through Blackfinger. However, given the haste with which she did her job, she finds herself with a little down-time, and has decided to remain there for a few days. The Free Cities aren’t so bad, after all.
RELATIONS
Sara Marl: Darcy’s sister, older by six years, her hero, and her role model. She is who she is because of Sara, and though they don’t see each other as often any more now that they both work, their bonds have never weakened.
Louisa Marl: Darcy’s mom. She was always decent in comparison to her father, but she was also negligent, and an addict. Despite her repentance, and despite that Sara vowed to return one day and check on her, neither girl has seen their mother since they left for New Rojas.
Louisa Marl: Darcy’s mom. She was always decent in comparison to her father, but she was also negligent, and an addict. Despite her repentance, and despite that Sara vowed to return one day and check on her, neither girl has seen their mother since they left for New Rojas.
ayzrules CEO of staying up all night
Member
Seen
3 mos ago
“I never gossip. I observe. And then I relate my observations to practically everyone.”
NAME
ALIAS
GENDER
SKILLS
PERSONALITY
HISTORY
INVENTORY
REASON FOR VISITING
RELATIONS
Isadora Violetta Langdale
“I never gossip. I observe. And then I relate my observations to practically everyone.”
NAME
Isadora Violetta Langdale
ALIAS
People who know her call her Isa
GENDER
Female
SKILLS
*Isadora is an expert in mending clothing, from leather gloves to roughspun aprons. She has plenty of experience with a needle and thread as well, and has a penchant for bedazzling clothing with scrap metal and spare parts that she finds around town
*Isadora grew up helping her oldest sister cook for three younger siblings and a handicapped mother. She can whip out a meal from anything and everything, granted that you don't mind the taste of it too much
*Some may call her sneaky, but Isadora thinks of it as having a "good sense of hearing". Isadora is a big eavesdropper and is quite skilled at remembering important tidbits of information and random rumors that she hears on the streets
*Isadora is able to clean and do laundry fairly well
*Although Isadora doesn't look like much at a first glance, she's quick and light on her feet-even in floor-length skirts
*One of Isadora's favorite past-times is dancing; not ballroom dancing, per se, but spontaneous dances with fast music and even faster steps.
*Isadora is certainly no expert with firearms, but she knows the basics of a gun and she is good enough with knives to fend off an attacker long enough for her to escape
*Isadora grew up helping her oldest sister cook for three younger siblings and a handicapped mother. She can whip out a meal from anything and everything, granted that you don't mind the taste of it too much
*Some may call her sneaky, but Isadora thinks of it as having a "good sense of hearing". Isadora is a big eavesdropper and is quite skilled at remembering important tidbits of information and random rumors that she hears on the streets
*Isadora is able to clean and do laundry fairly well
*Although Isadora doesn't look like much at a first glance, she's quick and light on her feet-even in floor-length skirts
*One of Isadora's favorite past-times is dancing; not ballroom dancing, per se, but spontaneous dances with fast music and even faster steps.
*Isadora is certainly no expert with firearms, but she knows the basics of a gun and she is good enough with knives to fend off an attacker long enough for her to escape
PERSONALITY
Isadora is generally an outgoing and friendly person. She always has a bright smile or cheerful greeting for people she knows. She can be rather impulsive and doesn't always think things through. Isadora lives life in the moment and would rather focus on the present than anticipate the future or brood on the past. She is lively and vivacious-she lives to laugh and she loves to live. Isadora is quick to anger but she is also quick to forgive and forget, and she firmly believes that life is much too short to hold petty grudges. Isadora has a knack for remembering everything she hears, especially anything that she deems especially important. She is also quite the conversationalist, willing to talk to anyone and everyone-and she just can't seem to keep her big mouth shut. Isadora is an avid gossiper and knows the dirt on seemingly everyone in town, and she's not afraid to share the information she knows. Isadora can be witty and playfully teasing and even flirtatious and coy if the situation calls for it. Isadora is headstrong and willful and hates being told what to do when it comes to matters that concern her personal life, much to the vexation of her mother and older sister. She is perceptive and good at guessing the thoughts, feelings, and intentions of others, and Isadora is keenly aware of her surroundings.
Despite what she might say, Isadora is downright nosy. Not only that, she is a gossip who couldn't keep her mouth shut if her life depended on it. She is rash and can be hot-tempered when provoked, and she is flighty and tends to have a very short attention span. People have also characterized her as "frivolous" and "shallow". Isadora hates being told what to do when it comes to her personal life. She can be headstrong and unyielding if she has set her mind on something, even if she sees how the other side could be logical. Isadora enjoys getting all dolled up and going out to dance or drink more than her mother thinks is appropriate.
At the core of her personality, Isadora is ferociously loyal to her family and friends. She may be blabbing about Jane cheating on John for all to hear, but you will never hear a word from her about her own mother and siblings if she doesn't want to talk about them.
Despite what she might say, Isadora is downright nosy. Not only that, she is a gossip who couldn't keep her mouth shut if her life depended on it. She is rash and can be hot-tempered when provoked, and she is flighty and tends to have a very short attention span. People have also characterized her as "frivolous" and "shallow". Isadora hates being told what to do when it comes to her personal life. She can be headstrong and unyielding if she has set her mind on something, even if she sees how the other side could be logical. Isadora enjoys getting all dolled up and going out to dance or drink more than her mother thinks is appropriate.
At the core of her personality, Isadora is ferociously loyal to her family and friends. She may be blabbing about Jane cheating on John for all to hear, but you will never hear a word from her about her own mother and siblings if she doesn't want to talk about them.
HISTORY
Isadora was born and raised in Baker's Rest, or Blackfinger. She has never been beyond five miles of the city. Her mother, Eleanora, was married to a man who abandoned her not long after Isadora was born. Isadora never even got her father's name out of her mother, although according to her older sister who still vaguely remembered their father-Minerva-he had blonde hair and brown eyes. Eleanora would always dismiss questions about her first husband with an impatient gesture and a "don't-you-have-anything-better-to-do?" glare. Eleanora married Samuel Langdale when Isadora was three, and Isadora soon had three younger siblings-twins Mariana and Rosalina, followed by Javier. Unfortunately, Samuel died of influenza when Isadora was ten, and Eleanora succumbed to an unknown illness that left her crippled and unable to walk a year after Samuel died. It fell to fifteen-year-old Minerva and eleven-year-old Isadora to raise their siblings.
Minerva had always been the dutiful and obedient sibling. Isadora, on the other hand, was willful and wild. When they were younger, while Minerva brushed her hair properly and followed all the rules like a proper young lady, Isadora was running through town barefoot with dirt streaked across her face and smashing the rules to pieces. After Eleanora fell ill, however, Isadora cleaned up her act. The Langdales were far from wealthy, and with Samuel dead and Eleanora crippled, they had no steady income coming in. Eleanora took on whatever odd jobs she could to bring in some money. Minerva herself soon got a job and spent most of her time working. Isadora, who was still too young to be hired, began to take over the household chores. She cooked, cleaned, and did laundry while yelling across the street for Mariana and Rosalina to "leave the poor horse alone, for Chrissake!".
It was not until Isadora was around fourteen or fifteen that she began to work herself. She very quickly found a job in one of the many saloons in Baker's Rest. At first, she was stuck in the kitchens washing dishes and scrubbing floors, but as she grew older, Isadora was allowed to work in the dining area. That was when she became more conscious of her general appearance and began to take after Minerva in her concern for her clothing. Isadora differed from Minerva in that she found most of the "acceptable" clothing for her age and gender much too stuffy and boring. She was always looking for ways to spice things up a little, and she even managed to get the wife of the owner of the general store to teach her some basic embroidery-not that it was very useful at the time.
The saloon was a whole new experience for Isadora. She had grown up living in a ramshackle house with cramped rooms and chaotic clutter and young children always underfoot. In the saloon, Isadora was faced for the first time with a sense of order. Isadora enjoyed working in the saloon-even if she did have to scrub floors and wash dishes and wipe down furniture, at least she could do it without small children running around willy nilly and getting in the way-and she especially enjoyed listening to random snatches of conversation as she poured drinks and collected empty glasses. She silently listened to stories of the fantastical and the mundane and the morbid, filing away anything particularly noteworthy for the future. She listened to Bargers relating wild tales of danger and daring (and she soon discovered that Bargers were the biggest gossipers), Scavvers comparing their latest finds, bounty hunters discussing contracts and jobs...the list goes on. Isadora listened and remembered, and if there was a subject that was of a special interest to her, she would sometimes interject with a few sentences herself.
After years of working for someone else, Isadora decided that she would rather run her own saloon. She and Minerva pooled their meager funds and opened their own establishment on the banks of the Great River, just past the docks. As such, most of their patrons tend to be Bargers. Isadora is happy to accommodate them-they're quite a lively bunch, and they've got the loosest tongues in all of the Freetowns.
Their saloon-simply named "Langdale's"-began to gain popularity. Minerva, the more practical and pragmatic of the sisters, is in charge of ordering supplies and brewing the drinks. She is also quite deadly with a bullwhip or a shotgun. Eleanora manages accounts and inventory from a cramped office in the back. Isadora is usually serving drinks and taking orders, with the help of her younger brother, Javier.
Mariana and Rosalina, however, have no interest in the saloon. They are constantly wandering out and about, looking for spare parts to create new gadgets and contraptions of varied uses. Their mother has all but given up on them, letting them do what they want so long as they finish all their chores in the saloon before running off to work on their latest inventions. The twins aspire to be working with the most prominent inventors and engineers in the city of Blackfinger.
Isadora has created quite a reputation for herself. She always knows what's going on, and the people in town know to go to Langdale's if they want to catch up on the latest news. Isadora is always happy to help, though she is notorious for demanding compensation for her "services". Indeed, Isadora may know much and more about matters of actual importance, but she enjoys boring her listeners with tales of how Mary had been cheating on her husband for ten years with a man from New Rojas, or how Susanna and Eliza are no longer friends because Susanna made a snide remark about Eliza's expensive, brand-new dress.
Isadora dearly wishes that she was rich enough to afford those beautiful gowns of silk and taffeta that the wealthiest, most fashionable ladies of the New World are constantly wearing. Minerva jokes that Isadora should have no problem securing a marriage proposal from a rich man, but even Isadora isn't naive enough to believe that.
Minerva had always been the dutiful and obedient sibling. Isadora, on the other hand, was willful and wild. When they were younger, while Minerva brushed her hair properly and followed all the rules like a proper young lady, Isadora was running through town barefoot with dirt streaked across her face and smashing the rules to pieces. After Eleanora fell ill, however, Isadora cleaned up her act. The Langdales were far from wealthy, and with Samuel dead and Eleanora crippled, they had no steady income coming in. Eleanora took on whatever odd jobs she could to bring in some money. Minerva herself soon got a job and spent most of her time working. Isadora, who was still too young to be hired, began to take over the household chores. She cooked, cleaned, and did laundry while yelling across the street for Mariana and Rosalina to "leave the poor horse alone, for Chrissake!".
It was not until Isadora was around fourteen or fifteen that she began to work herself. She very quickly found a job in one of the many saloons in Baker's Rest. At first, she was stuck in the kitchens washing dishes and scrubbing floors, but as she grew older, Isadora was allowed to work in the dining area. That was when she became more conscious of her general appearance and began to take after Minerva in her concern for her clothing. Isadora differed from Minerva in that she found most of the "acceptable" clothing for her age and gender much too stuffy and boring. She was always looking for ways to spice things up a little, and she even managed to get the wife of the owner of the general store to teach her some basic embroidery-not that it was very useful at the time.
The saloon was a whole new experience for Isadora. She had grown up living in a ramshackle house with cramped rooms and chaotic clutter and young children always underfoot. In the saloon, Isadora was faced for the first time with a sense of order. Isadora enjoyed working in the saloon-even if she did have to scrub floors and wash dishes and wipe down furniture, at least she could do it without small children running around willy nilly and getting in the way-and she especially enjoyed listening to random snatches of conversation as she poured drinks and collected empty glasses. She silently listened to stories of the fantastical and the mundane and the morbid, filing away anything particularly noteworthy for the future. She listened to Bargers relating wild tales of danger and daring (and she soon discovered that Bargers were the biggest gossipers), Scavvers comparing their latest finds, bounty hunters discussing contracts and jobs...the list goes on. Isadora listened and remembered, and if there was a subject that was of a special interest to her, she would sometimes interject with a few sentences herself.
After years of working for someone else, Isadora decided that she would rather run her own saloon. She and Minerva pooled their meager funds and opened their own establishment on the banks of the Great River, just past the docks. As such, most of their patrons tend to be Bargers. Isadora is happy to accommodate them-they're quite a lively bunch, and they've got the loosest tongues in all of the Freetowns.
Their saloon-simply named "Langdale's"-began to gain popularity. Minerva, the more practical and pragmatic of the sisters, is in charge of ordering supplies and brewing the drinks. She is also quite deadly with a bullwhip or a shotgun. Eleanora manages accounts and inventory from a cramped office in the back. Isadora is usually serving drinks and taking orders, with the help of her younger brother, Javier.
Mariana and Rosalina, however, have no interest in the saloon. They are constantly wandering out and about, looking for spare parts to create new gadgets and contraptions of varied uses. Their mother has all but given up on them, letting them do what they want so long as they finish all their chores in the saloon before running off to work on their latest inventions. The twins aspire to be working with the most prominent inventors and engineers in the city of Blackfinger.
Isadora has created quite a reputation for herself. She always knows what's going on, and the people in town know to go to Langdale's if they want to catch up on the latest news. Isadora is always happy to help, though she is notorious for demanding compensation for her "services". Indeed, Isadora may know much and more about matters of actual importance, but she enjoys boring her listeners with tales of how Mary had been cheating on her husband for ten years with a man from New Rojas, or how Susanna and Eliza are no longer friends because Susanna made a snide remark about Eliza's expensive, brand-new dress.
Isadora dearly wishes that she was rich enough to afford those beautiful gowns of silk and taffeta that the wealthiest, most fashionable ladies of the New World are constantly wearing. Minerva jokes that Isadora should have no problem securing a marriage proposal from a rich man, but even Isadora isn't naive enough to believe that.
INVENTORY
*Isadora carries a pair of plain, unadorned daggers-one is usually in the bodice of her dress, and the other one is concealed underneath her skirts. She decided when she first began working that it would be prudent to have some sort of weaponry with her in the case of more...unsavory patrons.
*Isadora usually carries a couple of needles and a bit of thread with her, as well as a scrap of cloth and a couple of plain hairpins that she typically ends up using to tie her hair back and to keep her curls out of her face.
*Isadora adores the bladed fan that her younger siblings created for her
*She also adores the armored parasol that the aforementioned siblings created for Isadora. It made of metal but covered in cloth, and it is capable of deflecting bullets.
*Isadora usually carries a couple of needles and a bit of thread with her, as well as a scrap of cloth and a couple of plain hairpins that she typically ends up using to tie her hair back and to keep her curls out of her face.
*Isadora adores the bladed fan that her younger siblings created for her
*She also adores the armored parasol that the aforementioned siblings created for Isadora. It made of metal but covered in cloth, and it is capable of deflecting bullets.
REASON FOR VISITING
Isadora has lived with her family in Blackfinger for her entire life.
RELATIONS
Eleanora Langdale (mother): Isadora loves her mother with all her heart. Eleanora is practical and rather strict, though she is quite helpless without her daughters and her son. Recently, Eleanora has been getting on Isadora's case about marrying a suitable man and settling down. Isadora scoffs at that. She certainly has not had a lack of suitors with her infectious laugh and lively eyes, but Isadora is by no means ready to get married and have children. She would rather have a taste of everything before deciding, so to speak.
Eleanora is in charge of keeping the books and taking inventory at the saloon.
Minerva Langdale (older sister): Isadora and Minerva are very close, though their personalities are polar opposites. Isadora is pretty, chattery, and a bit airheaded, while Minerva is quick-witted, stoic, and rather intimidating. Isadora's features are dainty and doll-like, but Minerva has a strong jawline and a sharp nose, traits inherited from their father. Perhaps their different personalities can be more aptly illustrated in their choices of weaponry: Minerva favors a viciously practical six-shot revolver of hard steel and a plain rosewood grip devoid of all frills and decoration, but Isadora has said multiple times that if she were to ever acquire a firearm, it would be a pretty little pistol with elaborate gilt metalwork and a beautiful mother-of-pearl handle.
Minerva is responsible for ordering supplies and making sure that everything is running smoothly in general. She is also the closest thing that the saloon has to "security".
Mariana Langdale and Rosalina Langdale (younger sisters): Mariana and Rosalina are fiery, defiant little rascals who, in the words of Eleanora, are "too smart for their own good". They are constantly trying to sneak things past their mother and Minerva, but nobody sneaks anything past Isadora. Fortunately for the twins, Isadora is much more lenient than Eleanora or Minerva. Isadora doesn't mind that they would rather be tinkering with their latest inventions than washing dishes at the saloon, and she is very appreciative of the steel-bladed fan and armored parasol that the twins fashioned for her out of scrap metal and spare parts and little knick-knacks that they managed to find in the city and on the docks.
The twins are tasked with the general upkeep of the saloon-washing dishes, scrubbing floors, and polishing the furniture. They are absolutely abysmal at their job.
Javier Langdale (younger brother): The only male in the Langdale family, Javier is constantly exasperated by the girls, especially by the twins and Isadora, who is fond of ruffling his hair and teasing him about, well, everything. He is quiet and sensible, and very protective of his family. Minerva and Javier get along very well. Isadora has an unfortunate habit of embarrassing her brother in front of the older men of Blackfinger.
Javier helps Isadora serve the patrons of the saloon. He usually remains behind the bar, while Isadora is out in the dining area serving drinks and such.
Eleanora is in charge of keeping the books and taking inventory at the saloon.
Minerva Langdale (older sister): Isadora and Minerva are very close, though their personalities are polar opposites. Isadora is pretty, chattery, and a bit airheaded, while Minerva is quick-witted, stoic, and rather intimidating. Isadora's features are dainty and doll-like, but Minerva has a strong jawline and a sharp nose, traits inherited from their father. Perhaps their different personalities can be more aptly illustrated in their choices of weaponry: Minerva favors a viciously practical six-shot revolver of hard steel and a plain rosewood grip devoid of all frills and decoration, but Isadora has said multiple times that if she were to ever acquire a firearm, it would be a pretty little pistol with elaborate gilt metalwork and a beautiful mother-of-pearl handle.
Minerva is responsible for ordering supplies and making sure that everything is running smoothly in general. She is also the closest thing that the saloon has to "security".
Mariana Langdale and Rosalina Langdale (younger sisters): Mariana and Rosalina are fiery, defiant little rascals who, in the words of Eleanora, are "too smart for their own good". They are constantly trying to sneak things past their mother and Minerva, but nobody sneaks anything past Isadora. Fortunately for the twins, Isadora is much more lenient than Eleanora or Minerva. Isadora doesn't mind that they would rather be tinkering with their latest inventions than washing dishes at the saloon, and she is very appreciative of the steel-bladed fan and armored parasol that the twins fashioned for her out of scrap metal and spare parts and little knick-knacks that they managed to find in the city and on the docks.
The twins are tasked with the general upkeep of the saloon-washing dishes, scrubbing floors, and polishing the furniture. They are absolutely abysmal at their job.
Javier Langdale (younger brother): The only male in the Langdale family, Javier is constantly exasperated by the girls, especially by the twins and Isadora, who is fond of ruffling his hair and teasing him about, well, everything. He is quiet and sensible, and very protective of his family. Minerva and Javier get along very well. Isadora has an unfortunate habit of embarrassing her brother in front of the older men of Blackfinger.
Javier helps Isadora serve the patrons of the saloon. He usually remains behind the bar, while Isadora is out in the dining area serving drinks and such.
GingerBoi123
Member
Seen
3 mos ago
Jesse
“I want my payment, and I'm gonna get it one way or the other."
NAME
Jesse McElroy
ALIAS
Blackjack
GENDER
Male
SKILLS
Shooting: Jesse, being a bounty hunter, is exceptionally skilled at shooting all manner of weapons. Whilst he is most proficient in rifles such as his trusty Winchester Model 1895 rifle, he is pretty handy with revolvers and is a damn good shot. With his line of work, you gotta be good at fighting.
Brawling: When you can't use any more weapons, you still got your fists. Jesse isn't a trained fighter, but with the skills he's picked up over the years, he can still hold his own. A martial artist or those trained in melee combat will easily be able to beat him, but if it's a straight up brawl, Blackjack is gonna come out on top of a pile of unconscious bodies.
Survival: Travelling from town to town in search of contracts and missions has made him a capable survivor outside of the comfort of the Freetowns. Jesse can start fires for warmth and is very athletic and fit, allowing his body to combat the elements.
Intimidation: When Jesse puts on his "Bounty Hunter face" and becomes 'Blackjack', he is very good at making himself an intimidating sight. While he prefers not to use this method of getting his way, sometimes it is the only method to deploy. Mostly with boneheaded merchants or punks talking a big game.
Brawling: When you can't use any more weapons, you still got your fists. Jesse isn't a trained fighter, but with the skills he's picked up over the years, he can still hold his own. A martial artist or those trained in melee combat will easily be able to beat him, but if it's a straight up brawl, Blackjack is gonna come out on top of a pile of unconscious bodies.
Survival: Travelling from town to town in search of contracts and missions has made him a capable survivor outside of the comfort of the Freetowns. Jesse can start fires for warmth and is very athletic and fit, allowing his body to combat the elements.
Intimidation: When Jesse puts on his "Bounty Hunter face" and becomes 'Blackjack', he is very good at making himself an intimidating sight. While he prefers not to use this method of getting his way, sometimes it is the only method to deploy. Mostly with boneheaded merchants or punks talking a big game.
PERSONALITY
Jesse is a straight to the point man. He prefers to keep interactions as simple as possible. He's not cold hearted, he just feels he's gotta keep moving on to get things done as quick as possible. The quicker he gets a job done, the quicker he gets paid. Jesse has always been a fighter, and never one to shy away from a good scrap or shootout. However, his penchant for trouble sometimes make situations worse than they need to be. He's rude for sure, especially to those he doesn't respect. Respect is a thing that needs to be earned, and the bounties are for criminals and scumbags, so they get none. Unfortunately, he has an issue of sticking in the fight instead of getting out of it. While he's not unsociable, don't expect him to get cosy with you. You're stuck with him as long as you need him, then he's taking his due and walking away.
HISTORY
Raised in Jefferson, Jesse was always exposed to violence and unfairness. He firmly believed that something had to be done about the gangs in the nation, but what was left of some form of law agency was either too scared to take action or paid off to turn a blind eye. However, his childhood was mostly surviving in the city and learning the ways of the worse kind of humans. He never knew his mother, so Jesse only had the harsh strictness of his father to raise him. However, it was his father who taught him how to shoot and how to fight. Jesse was a part of a small time gang too, wrong people. However, to Jesse, this was merely a means to an ends. It wasn't long before Jesse was old enough before his father allowed him to leave and make his own way in life. The parting gift was Jesse's first revolver to call his own.
At 16, Jesse was able to get one ticket to ride out of New Rojas and get the train out of Jefferson. One upset ex-gang and a shootout later, McElroy managed to escape the grasp of his gang and the grasp of Jefferson itself. With that, he set of to make a name for himself the only way he was brought up how. However, unlike most of the population of Jefferson, Jesse had a shred of a heart to not make money through what he deems as 'illegal' ways. However, he did find a job making use of his skillset by becoming a bounty hunter. 20 years of completing contracts, multiple shootouts and too much drinking that borders on needing a new liver, Blackjack has made a name for himself throughout the Freetowns.
At 16, Jesse was able to get one ticket to ride out of New Rojas and get the train out of Jefferson. One upset ex-gang and a shootout later, McElroy managed to escape the grasp of his gang and the grasp of Jefferson itself. With that, he set of to make a name for himself the only way he was brought up how. However, unlike most of the population of Jefferson, Jesse had a shred of a heart to not make money through what he deems as 'illegal' ways. However, he did find a job making use of his skillset by becoming a bounty hunter. 20 years of completing contracts, multiple shootouts and too much drinking that borders on needing a new liver, Blackjack has made a name for himself throughout the Freetowns.
INVENTORY
REASON FOR VISITING
Jesse is here to look for his next bounty, restocking supplies and definitely a damn drink or two.
RELATIONS
Max McElroy, Father- Max still lives in Jefferson, however he was the one who made Jesse who he was today, despite being a strict and sometimes uncaring father. Jesse never knew his mother, and Max never really talked about her. It was so little in fact that Jesse only knows her name.
Candice McElroy, Mother- Candice left when Jesse was just a week old. Without a word, note, or anything. No one knows where she is, or even if she's still alive. This made Max cold inside, and a major reason why he was so strict on Jesse.
Candice McElroy, Mother- Candice left when Jesse was just a week old. Without a word, note, or anything. No one knows where she is, or even if she's still alive. This made Max cold inside, and a major reason why he was so strict on Jesse.
CaptainBritton Man of War
Member
Seen
1 mo ago
Hiram Mitchell
“There is no true law in a place such as this.”
NAME
Hiram Arbor Mitchell
ALIAS
Mitchell, ‘Mitch’, 'Jim'
GENDER
Male
SKILLS
Survivalist: From as young as his late teenage years, Mitch was living a nomadic lifestyle, travelling up and down the banks of the Great River in the craft of killing and selling off the parts of wild fauna. Thus, he possesses the skills necessary to live off the land through even the coldest winter.
Pathfinder: His years along the Great River have given him an impeccable view into the lay of the land, giving him an unrivaled terrain advantage when the need to travel arises.
Marksman: Mitch, as a hunter, had to possess great skill with a long gun and six-shooter alike, thus branding him as an expert marksman with each, from foot and horseback.
Partially Literate: Despite what some may think by his lifestyle, he has an idea of how to read. Though he may not be the best, he can still make heads or tails of a note scrawled on some paper scrap.
Musician: While unable to read music himself, Mitch is an avid player of the banjo, and possesses one he had bought in his early twenties, along with the knowledge to play a few select tunes.
Pathfinder: His years along the Great River have given him an impeccable view into the lay of the land, giving him an unrivaled terrain advantage when the need to travel arises.
Marksman: Mitch, as a hunter, had to possess great skill with a long gun and six-shooter alike, thus branding him as an expert marksman with each, from foot and horseback.
Partially Literate: Despite what some may think by his lifestyle, he has an idea of how to read. Though he may not be the best, he can still make heads or tails of a note scrawled on some paper scrap.
Musician: While unable to read music himself, Mitch is an avid player of the banjo, and possesses one he had bought in his early twenties, along with the knowledge to play a few select tunes.
PERSONALITY
Mitch is one of a lonesome sort, as one would expect from perhaps a cowboy from times of the Old West. His early life on the floodplains of what once was Western Tennessee taught him hard lessons of the life in this New World. The absence of his parents by the time he was of sixteen years sent him to the course of life for a trapper, and his time alone has given him insight into the nature of the world which he lives. This has given him an outlook of apathy on the current world.
HISTORY
Born forty years ago on the banks and floodplains of the Great River, Mitch lived in a remote setting with his family. A mother and father were present, along with three siblings, two sisters, two brothers, two older, two younger. Early in his life, an epidemic of tuberculosis came about within the household, taking his two brothers and one sister, along with his father. Left with his mother and one younger sister, he was thrust into the role of the patriarch of the house. He became avid at hunting and fishing as his father once had, maintaining the flow of food to the household, as well as becoming the one to chop firewood.
At the age of sixteen, he came home to his mother and dear sister missing. Weeks of daily searching along the surrounding plains and woods yielded nothing. His course of action was to take the family steed and to stuff all the provisions he could unto the saddlebags, riding for the very banks of the river where the Freetowns laid. A series of dead-end farmhand occupations along the floodplains yielded little money, and so he began the noble attempt of hunting and trapping, selling off the excess furs and meat for profit, which paid handsomely. For the past few decades and odd years, he has done the very same.
At the age of sixteen, he came home to his mother and dear sister missing. Weeks of daily searching along the surrounding plains and woods yielded nothing. His course of action was to take the family steed and to stuff all the provisions he could unto the saddlebags, riding for the very banks of the river where the Freetowns laid. A series of dead-end farmhand occupations along the floodplains yielded little money, and so he began the noble attempt of hunting and trapping, selling off the excess furs and meat for profit, which paid handsomely. For the past few decades and odd years, he has done the very same.
INVENTORY
Sharps rifle: He owns a relic of the old world for his primary weapon, a Sharps reproduction of the 1859 model. It utilizes .52 caliber cartridges with 475 grains of black powder. For ease of use, it possesses a pellet-primer feeding system that makes the loading process quicker, as, while it can use percussion caps, the primer feed is quicker. A modification to the rifle is an affixed bayonet lug, which he possesses a ‘pig-sticker’-type bayonet for.
Colt 1851 Navy Model: Another old-world reproduction, his Colt 1851 Navy has been his trusty sidearm ever since he first started the trade. It utilizes .44 caliber cartridges with 25 grains of black powder. It possesses an odd modification for its type, namely a cylinder that can be easily detached without the need to detach the barrel. Thus, he generally carries two extra loaded cylinders for quick reloading. It possesses a fine aesthetic with engravings done by his own father.
‘Arkansas Toothpick’ Longknife: Mitch’s knife of which he uses most for the butchering of animals. It sports an 18 inch long steel blade and an oak grip, It is furnished with brass.
Copenhagen: Mitch’s trusty steed, Copenhagen is a bay mare which he acquired upon the death of his previous horse from old age. It has served him a good thirteen years as of now.
Banjo: His musical instrument of choice, he often spends time entertaining himself around the fire with the few tunes he knows.
REASON FOR VISITING
Mitch has just come in from one of his hunting expeditions, hoping to sell off the hides and meat of about three deer and two boars.
RELATIONS
Mary was Mitch's now missing mother. She has been described as kindhearted, generous, and loving. The circumstances surrounding her disappearance are mysterious.
Aldebert was Mitch's father. He has been described as stern, loving, and strong. Taken at the age of thirty-four by tuberculosis.
NuttsnBolts
Moderator
Seen
10 days ago
“We steal from the rich and give to the needy...”
NAME
Stephenson "Stephen" Tucker
ALIAS
The Two Tucker Twins
Stephen Tucker, The Second
Stephen Tucker, The Second
GENDER
A fine gentleman
SKILLS
» The Musician
» The Thief
» The Quickdraw
Music is life, and Stephenson is music. The man loves to act and perform, showing off his skills while occasionally entering into sudden duets with his twin sister. Quite often he can be seen lounging about under the shade of a lone tree, plucking away and humming tunes in preparation for his next big act.
» The Thief
While the music may be a show, the real performance comes from his fine fingers; the prestige, if you will. The man is a thief and a deception to the very eyes. His charm and grandeur is designed to throw off the scent of his devilish ways, plucking the coins and goods out of unsuspecting pockets only to leave them dry and lint free.
» The Quickdraw
When the show goes sour and the guns are drawn Stephenson turns to his trusty pistol, located in a holster on the backside of his banjo. The man can quickly flip out the weapon and fire off a shot before too many realise what is going on. Needless to say Stephenson always hopes that it never gets to this point, but if blood must be spilt to save his own skin, he never chooses to hesitate.
PERSONALITY
Stephenson is a very suave and confident man, someone who radiates a awing presence of passion and pride. If one was to look close enough they would notice that he has a habit of tilting his head away from whomever he is talking to; that he has a habit of gazing through his thin, wire framed glasses; and that this habit creates the impression as though he is constantly looking down on those around him. When he speaks one may hear the charismatic word that emanate from his lips, a list of stories and songs that hypnotise an audience into a crowd of mindless followers. He is the Pied Piper and the people of the world are his mischief of rats to control.
This self confident attitude does land himself in a spot of bother every now and then as his lustrous aura does attract the attention of those who don't appreciate the flair and finesse. For those situations he can turn very anti-diplomatic and cold, leaving a bullet in the skull of those who threaten him, or his sister.
This self confident attitude does land himself in a spot of bother every now and then as his lustrous aura does attract the attention of those who don't appreciate the flair and finesse. For those situations he can turn very anti-diplomatic and cold, leaving a bullet in the skull of those who threaten him, or his sister.
HISTORY
Stephen and Janelle Tucker were born into a family of wealth and nobility, in a town far, far away from Blackfinger. Their father was a well known businessman by the name of Stephen Snr, a trader who specialised in goods that were destined to fetch a pretty penny; while their mother, Anne, was a stay at home house wife who raised the offspring of her and her husband's. There they lived their younger years with a prosperous and carefree childhood, filled to the brim with with luxury, enjoyment... and debt.
It was during their teens that the twins felt the shift from the high life they knew so well and loved, to the low life of poverty and despair. A series of bad trades and corrupt deals shattered the family fortune leaving them with little to truly call their own. There they struggled to survive, living off the streets, off the generosity of the people they performed to, and out of their back pockets as the Samaritans walked away.
As time went on the taste and desire for that life they once had grew and festered inside their minds. Stephenson and Janelle began to raise the stakes of their desires, aiming for the stars when the moon was still within reach. It was through the drunken words of a patron in a saloon that they heard about Blackfinger, and thus they decided they decided that this would be the next deep pocket that they would pick.
It was during their teens that the twins felt the shift from the high life they knew so well and loved, to the low life of poverty and despair. A series of bad trades and corrupt deals shattered the family fortune leaving them with little to truly call their own. There they struggled to survive, living off the streets, off the generosity of the people they performed to, and out of their back pockets as the Samaritans walked away.
As time went on the taste and desire for that life they once had grew and festered inside their minds. Stephenson and Janelle began to raise the stakes of their desires, aiming for the stars when the moon was still within reach. It was through the drunken words of a patron in a saloon that they heard about Blackfinger, and thus they decided they decided that this would be the next deep pocket that they would pick.
INVENTORY
» Pepperbox Pistol [x]
Stephenson owns a 6 shot pepperbox pistol. The weapon is typically stored on the back of his Banjo in a leather holster. Occasionally he will hide it within his breast pocket if he feels that it may draw too much attention.
» Short Sword [x]
A rather odd choice for a weapon in a world filled with guns, but when rounds are short in supply it so happens to be an excellent tool for hunting and camping.
» Banjo
A beautifully crafted 5 string banjo; this was one of the last few possessions that his family held as they fell into poverty. He is rather protective of it as it helps to remind him of the life he once had.
» Smoking Pipe
A finely crafted pipe for smoking tobacco.
REASON FOR VISITING
The promise of riches and glory. Stephenson and Janelle are looking for that next big score, the deal that will seal them with a lifetime of money, freedom and fame.
RELATIONS
» Janelle Tucker - Twin Sister
NuttsnBolts
Moderator
Seen
10 days ago
“...hand to the poor and take from the greedy.”
NAME
Janelle Tucker
ALIAS
The Two Tucker Twins
Jenny
Jenny
GENDER
A true lady
SKILLS
» The Performer
Much like her Brother Janelle is a musician and loves her violin, however she is more likely to erupt into a flurry of song and dance as she leaps up onto the bar of the old saloon. Her very actions are enough to lighten any dull mood and bring about the life of the party.
» The Seducer
The act, the performance, the wondrous eyes, and the lustrous body. Janelle has a talent for sinking into the hearts of men, and some women, misleading them into giving her precious information that she can use for later on. Given enough time she has even been able to steal from right under their nose but chooses to not always do so as it can place her in a vulnerable position.
» The Lockpicker
The lady has a precious skill in the art of lock picking. Years of practice and perfecting her own technique have allowed Janelle to extend her grasps to even more riches around her.
» The Intellectual
While both Stephenson and Janelle can read, Stephenson can only recognise basic words while Janelle can read and write full sentences. She has a knack for picking up on details, a skill for making educated guesses on problems, and has even read about the machines and technology from the old world.
PERSONALITY
If Stephenson is the Pied Piper, than Janelle is the Succubus; a woman who uses her body to mystically draw in those around her, escorting them into a helpless trance of lust and seduction. The woman enjoys toying with people's fragile emotions, speaking to them with soft words lies and deceit, all while utilising her slender, revealing body to aid in her greedy desires. Due to these dangerous actions Janelle does regrettably have blood on her hands, a result of having to take the life of those who have pushed beyond the personal boundaries that she has set for herself.
Outside the performances she can be quite sincere and honest, expressing a sense of empathy that her brother somehow lacks. She is willing to give up some of her fortune for those who are desperately in need, understanding too well the strains and hardships that they may be facing. If she could give to the people then the would would be a much better place, but sadly her foresight is hazed and the only option she can foresee is the desire to steal.
Outside the performances she can be quite sincere and honest, expressing a sense of empathy that her brother somehow lacks. She is willing to give up some of her fortune for those who are desperately in need, understanding too well the strains and hardships that they may be facing. If she could give to the people then the would would be a much better place, but sadly her foresight is hazed and the only option she can foresee is the desire to steal.
HISTORY
Stephen and Janelle Tucker were born into a family of wealth and nobility, in a town far, far away from Blackfinger. Their father was a well known businessman by the name of Stephen Snr, a trader who specialised in goods that were destined to fetch a pretty penny; while their mother, Anne, was a stay at home house wife who raised the offspring of her and her husband's. There they lived their younger years with a prosperous and carefree childhood, filled to the brim with with luxury, enjoyment... and debt.
It was during their teens that the twins felt the shift from the high life they knew so well and loved, to the low life of poverty and despair. A series of bad trades and corrupt deals shattered the family fortune leaving them with little to truly call their own. There they struggled to survive, living off the streets, off the generosity of the people they performed to, and out of their back pockets as the Samaritans walked away.
As time went on the taste and desire for that life they once had grew and festered inside their minds. Stephenson and Janelle began to raise the stakes of their desires, aiming for the stars when the moon was still within reach. It was through the drunken words of a patron in a saloon that they heard about Blackfinger, and thus they decided they decided that this would be the next deep pocket that they would pick.
It was during their teens that the twins felt the shift from the high life they knew so well and loved, to the low life of poverty and despair. A series of bad trades and corrupt deals shattered the family fortune leaving them with little to truly call their own. There they struggled to survive, living off the streets, off the generosity of the people they performed to, and out of their back pockets as the Samaritans walked away.
As time went on the taste and desire for that life they once had grew and festered inside their minds. Stephenson and Janelle began to raise the stakes of their desires, aiming for the stars when the moon was still within reach. It was through the drunken words of a patron in a saloon that they heard about Blackfinger, and thus they decided they decided that this would be the next deep pocket that they would pick.
INVENTORY
» Wooden Handle Knife [x]
Being seductive can draw the attention of many unsavoury people, and what else to protect yourself then to use a knife attached to your hip.
» Violin
Along with her brother's banjo, Janelle's violin is one of the last few possessions that the family held as they spiralled down into poverty. While she doesn't hold the same sentimental value to it as her brother, she still views it as an important memory of their past.
» Picking Tool Set
Throughout Jannel's clothes are a series of picks and shims, hidden within layers of fabric and leather.
REASON FOR VISITING
The promise of riches and glory. Stephenson and Janelle are looking for that next big score, the deal that will seal them with a lifetime of money, freedom and fame.
RELATIONS
» Stephenson Tucker - Twin Brother
Snagglepuss89
Member
Seen
2 mos ago
Marcus E. Hamilton
“'Sola Nobilitas Virtus.' Those words are more true now than ever.”
N A M E
Marcus Emanuel Hamilton
ALIAS
"English", at least to the locals
GENDER
Gentleman
SKILLS
Diplomacy: Seemingly adept at the nuances of courtesy and etiquette when it suits him, Marcus knows how to walk the walk and talk the talk. While it might only serve to agitate a ruffian on the street, it's been an invaluable asset when dealing with people in positions of power.
Pluck: Both an asset and a flaw, in his youth Marcus threw himself into many fights when the wiser choice would have been flight. This has been tempered somewhat by his age, but no man (or woman) could say with any honesty that he lacked courage. Almost to the extent of recklessness.
Swordsmanship: His years on the high seas were filled with many engagements as he tells it, almost all of them beginning with the words; "Damn the guns, we're boarding!". Whether engaging Germans in the North Sea, or Moroccan privateers outside of Gibraltar, Marcus brought as many as he could into hand-to-hand combat. While he wields both sword and gun in combat, he very much favors the blade, the latter only being used when opportunity or necessity favors it.
Captain?: While unfamiliar with the waterways of America or the operation of steam ships, Marcus is one of the most able navigators of the Atlantic(According to him), and peerless if leading the crew of a sailing ship(Also according to him). More importantly though, it has given him a wide breadth of experience in dealing with, and fighting against, various peoples who have managed to recover from the Blackout. Knowledge that has kept him fed since arriving in Blackfinger.
Southpaw Slinger: Marcus doesn't choose between using his sword or his gun, he uses both in tandem. As it isn't his primary weapon, not even his years of combat experience can allow him to compete on equal terms with the lifelong gunslingers that have sprung up in the remains of America, but to underestimate his abilities as merely average would be a fatal mistake. It is a weapon of opportunity, but opportunity is something he's become quite skilled at creating.
Pluck: Both an asset and a flaw, in his youth Marcus threw himself into many fights when the wiser choice would have been flight. This has been tempered somewhat by his age, but no man (or woman) could say with any honesty that he lacked courage. Almost to the extent of recklessness.
Swordsmanship: His years on the high seas were filled with many engagements as he tells it, almost all of them beginning with the words; "Damn the guns, we're boarding!". Whether engaging Germans in the North Sea, or Moroccan privateers outside of Gibraltar, Marcus brought as many as he could into hand-to-hand combat. While he wields both sword and gun in combat, he very much favors the blade, the latter only being used when opportunity or necessity favors it.
Captain?: While unfamiliar with the waterways of America or the operation of steam ships, Marcus is one of the most able navigators of the Atlantic(According to him), and peerless if leading the crew of a sailing ship(Also according to him). More importantly though, it has given him a wide breadth of experience in dealing with, and fighting against, various peoples who have managed to recover from the Blackout. Knowledge that has kept him fed since arriving in Blackfinger.
Southpaw Slinger: Marcus doesn't choose between using his sword or his gun, he uses both in tandem. As it isn't his primary weapon, not even his years of combat experience can allow him to compete on equal terms with the lifelong gunslingers that have sprung up in the remains of America, but to underestimate his abilities as merely average would be a fatal mistake. It is a weapon of opportunity, but opportunity is something he's become quite skilled at creating.
PERSONALITY
To a man and power of influence, Marcus is every bit the proper nobleman. Courteous, respectful, and demanding of equal respect. To a merchant heading overseas in a Zeppelin, Marcus is every bit the seasoned adventurer, world wise and able to part with his expertise for a price. For most other people: He's really not much more than a common man, fond of a drink and a joke- if a bit prone to grim moods as his youth continues to leave him. He is the type to pursue a goal wholeheartedly if one is in his mind, but for now he has none. So he drinks, and he tells stories, and earns coin to drink some more. Perhaps not to the point of being a drunkard, but that future doesn't seem far off.
HISTORY
Rumor has it that Marcus Hamilton dropped into Blackfinger one day on a German Zeppelin. In spite of the fact that German Zeppelins were exceedingly rare (Though one was in the area around the time he showed up), that they never carried anything other than Germans, and nobody could recall seeing a Brit since before the Blackout. Still, the novelty of his arrival quickly gave way to more pressing issues like survival- and after a couple weeks "English" was just part of the local scenery.
For the most part, he spends his days talking to merchants and drinking. While rarely drunk, when he does go over his limit he'll regale anybody that can stand to listen to him with tales of fighting pirates across the Atlantic, and a grand Royal Navy that had yet to reach the Americas, but would surely arrive any week. How much of it was true was anybody's guess, but people were used to storytellers after the Blackout, they were one of the best sources of entertainment.
Oddly though, the stories are suspiciously lacking in regards to the missing section of his left hand (Ring and pinkie fingers included), and the watch he always wears around his neck, tucked into the pocket of his shirt. Merchants seem to pay his bar tab and lodging, although he never seems to actually trade anything with them. Overall, he's a curiosity, but curiosities take a backseat to survival for most in the New World.
For the most part, he spends his days talking to merchants and drinking. While rarely drunk, when he does go over his limit he'll regale anybody that can stand to listen to him with tales of fighting pirates across the Atlantic, and a grand Royal Navy that had yet to reach the Americas, but would surely arrive any week. How much of it was true was anybody's guess, but people were used to storytellers after the Blackout, they were one of the best sources of entertainment.
Oddly though, the stories are suspiciously lacking in regards to the missing section of his left hand (Ring and pinkie fingers included), and the watch he always wears around his neck, tucked into the pocket of his shirt. Merchants seem to pay his bar tab and lodging, although he never seems to actually trade anything with them. Overall, he's a curiosity, but curiosities take a backseat to survival for most in the New World.
INVENTORY
A cavalry saber, which upon closer inspection reveals a slight pattern on the blade.
An antique 6-round-chamber double action revolver
A watch that is always on his person. The initials VW are etched into the front, while in the back is a more crudely carved symbol:
REASON FOR VISITING
There's no one reason, just an attempt to make a life for himself in a new country.
RELATIONS
Any friends and family he may have are (likely) on another continent, and he remains tight lipped even when drunk.
Little Bill Unbannable
Member
Seen
5 mos ago
"Funny thing about living to kill. You spend so much time killin', it don't scare you to die.”
NAME
Ezekiel Otis Fleming
ALIAS
• Zombie Zeke
GENDER
Male
SKILLS
Buried on Sunday, Back by Monday
The "talent" that allowed Zeke to join the Unlucky Thirteen is the mixture of luck, constitution, and dead nerve endings that have allowed him to skirt past death on several occasions. He has been set on fire, thrown off a train, buried alive, blasted nearly clean through with buckshot, and stabbed more times than he can remember, with only an ugly mug and a bad limp to show for it. For this reason, he's the assassin of choice for targets who have killed previous would-be hitmen, or are otherwise more combatively skilled than the everyday revenge killings assassins are sought for. As a testament to this, he keeps the badges of three lawmen he's killed in his left breast pocket, which double both as a trophy and a protective measure from shots to the heart.
WANTED
Zeke isn't just some cutthroat you find in the dark corner of a saloon to be paid off with a sack of silver dollars. He's Zombie Zeke of the Unlucky Thirteen. He's the caliber of assassin you pay with a briefcase full of bills to eliminate a rival oil prospector. Or at least, he used to be. Now he's just some guy with a skin condition trying to lay low. Though these are things he's trying to hide, his name, face, and the respect (Or bullets) they all bring are known to criminals, lawmen, and any who have heard of the Unlucky Thirteen, which is quite a many people. In the right places, Zeke is one of the few people who has a chance to get out of a hairy situation with "Do you know who I am?". Or accidentally run into them.
The "talent" that allowed Zeke to join the Unlucky Thirteen is the mixture of luck, constitution, and dead nerve endings that have allowed him to skirt past death on several occasions. He has been set on fire, thrown off a train, buried alive, blasted nearly clean through with buckshot, and stabbed more times than he can remember, with only an ugly mug and a bad limp to show for it. For this reason, he's the assassin of choice for targets who have killed previous would-be hitmen, or are otherwise more combatively skilled than the everyday revenge killings assassins are sought for. As a testament to this, he keeps the badges of three lawmen he's killed in his left breast pocket, which double both as a trophy and a protective measure from shots to the heart.
WANTED
Zeke isn't just some cutthroat you find in the dark corner of a saloon to be paid off with a sack of silver dollars. He's Zombie Zeke of the Unlucky Thirteen. He's the caliber of assassin you pay with a briefcase full of bills to eliminate a rival oil prospector. Or at least, he used to be. Now he's just some guy with a skin condition trying to lay low. Though these are things he's trying to hide, his name, face, and the respect (Or bullets) they all bring are known to criminals, lawmen, and any who have heard of the Unlucky Thirteen, which is quite a many people. In the right places, Zeke is one of the few people who has a chance to get out of a hairy situation with "Do you know who I am?". Or accidentally run into them.
PERSONALITY
Zeke is a man of few words, and most of them are mean. An "Old-fashioned man" through and through, Zeke carries himself with a weight commanding respect, though he tries to maintain a level of politeness with women, children, and the elderly. For a paid murderer, Zeke is surprisingly reasonable and well-mannered, for all of his curmudgeonly ways. To maintain a relatively low profile, he avoids killing people outside of his job, which he also maintains is a better way to live. Aside from his gruff, rotting exterior, there is something of a softness to the nostalgia he views his times with the Unlucky Thirteen, who were his family for a number of years. His best stories all seem to concern contract killings with the group.
For the past few months, Zeke has not been himself; He is hiding out more, and is increasingly stressed and paranoid. Word of his crime is slowly spreading, as well as the public knowledge of the bounty placed on him by the newly-rebranded Dirty Dozen. Though he's normally self-loving enough to spend a few silvers on a nice hotel room/prostitute combo, he's been spending more and more days hiding under bridges and empty boxcars. The Ezekiel Fleming who walks today -- not the Zombie Zeke of legend -- is in dire need of a hot bath and a full meal, and is growing more desperate out of want for either.
For the past few months, Zeke has not been himself; He is hiding out more, and is increasingly stressed and paranoid. Word of his crime is slowly spreading, as well as the public knowledge of the bounty placed on him by the newly-rebranded Dirty Dozen. Though he's normally self-loving enough to spend a few silvers on a nice hotel room/prostitute combo, he's been spending more and more days hiding under bridges and empty boxcars. The Ezekiel Fleming who walks today -- not the Zombie Zeke of legend -- is in dire need of a hot bath and a full meal, and is growing more desperate out of want for either.
HISTORY
Zeke's story starts with his birth in the irradiated remains of Hollywood, California, a smoldering town of mutants and rubble that once housed the most well-known oldworld media. Zeke would tell you this makes him "sort of like" a talkie star or folk hero. He has divulged little information about his childhood, though he assures most inquiring parties that it was fairly wretched. Due to the chemically tainted soil and water of his hometown, Zeke's late childhood included the development of a gangrenous skin condition on his face, arms, legs, chest, and back -- His sores having now spread to patches that are essentially rotting away, leading to visible bones on parts of his body. Coupled with his seeming imperviousness to death, he was known in most of the West coast as "Zombie Zeke" by his twenties, known for little other than his face and willingness to perform "jobs", such as intimidation and horse theft for local thieves.
A decade later, he had been paid to settle the debts of enough unruly mutants by way of a gun or blade to make his living solely from murder, which would remain his lifelong profession. From there, it was not long until he would stumble into a Freetown saloon called "The Snakeboot Inn". At Snakeboot some twenty years ago, he and another dozen bounty hunters, mercenaries, and hitmen formed "The Unlucky Thirteen", an assassin's company made up of "A Baker's Dozen Batch of Get-The-Job-Done", as their calling card billed. Vowing to keep the rules simple -- No women, no children -- the group's extensive individual talents allowed them to accrue enough wealth to maintain fear, respect, and territory in parts of the Freetowns and Brighton, eventually purchasing a large compound base in Brighton itself. This group was the closest Zeke has said he has felt to having a family,
which is a fair point for a man raised by half-melted cannibals. However, this all changed two months ago to the day, now that he has reached a ripe old fourty-four.
There is little public knowledge of the incident itself, though only two things are publically known; Zeke was hired to kill George Tavish II, and that Zeke killed both George Tavish II and the young Sophia Tavish. Having violated both of his group's "No women, No children" rules, the group has publically disavowed themselves of him and has sworn to hunt him down and clean their reputation's sole stain. He has lived as a drifter since then, hiding from place to place in the night where he is known, and renting beds where he is not.
A decade later, he had been paid to settle the debts of enough unruly mutants by way of a gun or blade to make his living solely from murder, which would remain his lifelong profession. From there, it was not long until he would stumble into a Freetown saloon called "The Snakeboot Inn". At Snakeboot some twenty years ago, he and another dozen bounty hunters, mercenaries, and hitmen formed "The Unlucky Thirteen", an assassin's company made up of "A Baker's Dozen Batch of Get-The-Job-Done", as their calling card billed. Vowing to keep the rules simple -- No women, no children -- the group's extensive individual talents allowed them to accrue enough wealth to maintain fear, respect, and territory in parts of the Freetowns and Brighton, eventually purchasing a large compound base in Brighton itself. This group was the closest Zeke has said he has felt to having a family,
which is a fair point for a man raised by half-melted cannibals. However, this all changed two months ago to the day, now that he has reached a ripe old fourty-four.
There is little public knowledge of the incident itself, though only two things are publically known; Zeke was hired to kill George Tavish II, and that Zeke killed both George Tavish II and the young Sophia Tavish. Having violated both of his group's "No women, No children" rules, the group has publically disavowed themselves of him and has sworn to hunt him down and clean their reputation's sole stain. He has lived as a drifter since then, hiding from place to place in the night where he is known, and renting beds where he is not.
INVENTORY
Six-Shooter Pistol
Zeke's pistol is an old-fashioned six round model, with enough stopping power to fell a horse. He calls it his "Hand cannon". He's not an exceptional shot, though he compensates by shooting people in close quarters.
Needle and Thread
Part of Zeke's survivability is his constitution, and part of it is his wisdom to dig bullets out of himself and stitch up holes.
Zeke's pistol is an old-fashioned six round model, with enough stopping power to fell a horse. He calls it his "Hand cannon". He's not an exceptional shot, though he compensates by shooting people in close quarters.
Needle and Thread
Part of Zeke's survivability is his constitution, and part of it is his wisdom to dig bullets out of himself and stitch up holes.
REASON FOR VISITING
Retrieving stolen goods from a local bandit.
RELATIONS
Blubaron45 The Musical Mathmagician
Member
Seen
6 days ago
Mr. Finkerton
Themes: Big Sky, The Unfortunate Rake, Illusions and Smoke
“Life is only as hard as you make it.”
NAME
Miguel Rolando Santos de Barragán Finkerton.
ALIAS
Mr. Finkerton, Mike Finkerton, El Buscador Gabacho, El Chico Fuerte.
GENDER
Male
AGE
33
HEIGHT
5'11"
SKILLS
- Speaks Spanish
- Functionally literate: Finkerton can be capable of reading though not very easily. Barely managing to read or write, Finkerton is only as educated as a man could teach himself in such a time as this one despite his sophisticated appearance and speech.
- Bareknuckle Fighter: Grew up fighting before being formerly trained by Bareknuckle boxing welterweight champion Gerardo Hernandez, Mr. Finkerton is a trained fighter. Though his training, Mr. Finkerton has only made it to the amateur field, winning small prizefights in the shadows of real professionals.
- Decent sharpshooter: Finkerton is widely known for his abilities to use a revolver, though most stories have been through tales of exaggeration due to his need to be popularized for his business. In reality, his "abilities" do not match the tales of grandeur of legends of his time.
- Boss: Whatever he says, happens. Mr. Finkerton is a self-made man with connections and he'll do almost anything he could to make sure he gets a decent cut of both the action and power. He practically dominates the criminal underworld in Blackfinger, though no where else.
PERSONALITY
There is no doubt of course that Mr. Finkerton is an intelligent man however little education he might have has certainly not defined his abilities to make himself into the man he is today. Often capable of exchanging interesting and cunning conversations, Finkerton is renown for being a rather savvy man though this is a mark of any good businessman. Atop from being a decent conversationalist, the man is also very discreet and blunt, especially when conducting business as he is often doing anything he can to get to the point should anyone do business with him though is also a man known for keeping to himself.
Despite this, Finkerton doesn't mind to let loose out of boredom, residing his recreational prowess in entertainment which mostly involved humor or picking a new fights among the men. Though having a light-side, many do best not to cross him, for there lies a beast waiting to awaken deep within his core and thus the reason for his high position among low-life criminal scum. Many would be wise to follow his orders if one were to be employed in the illegal businesses by such a man, or face the consequences of the many men who were buried six feet under the ground or fed to the pigs. Despite being feared by many, Finkerton is a liked man however, often showing signs of courteousness though mostly only doing so out of opportunity though most don't seem to mind. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth could describe is behavior, often having the urge to get even with both his foes and amiable friends.
HISTORY
Born in an unknown, desolate area in what was once known as Mexico, Miguel Rolando Santos de Barragán Finkerton was born from the sweat of a hardworking mother and a drunk, business man who he did not have the fortune of meeting. Many who grew up without fathers during a time of deep deprivation could easily be assumed to have a father who left the family after wedlock, though this was not the case for the child. Carl Finkerton, his father, had been robbed of his riches by a greedy younger brother, Benjamin Finkerton, who sought the chance of dethroning the heir to the aristocratic business owned by his forefathers though by doing so by killing the man born right-wise to the business and leaving his wife on the run to the south whereupon the child was conceived. Despite this predisposition, his mother, Brynn Finkerton had high hopes for the child despite being homeless. It was where they would retreat and reside to a border-town near the south that they would have to call home.
Having barely known Spanish, a language she would learn as she grew accustomed to this bordertown, Brynn found it easily to communicate as both languages were spoken in this area. They adopted the name Barragán in order to hide their identity in their new home. The mother would spend time working while being taken care of by other adult women in the neighborhood around them took care of the children. Life would be good for the meanwhile, as the young Mr. Finkerton grew up almost the same way any child in a Steamtown would grow up in. There were fond memories of friendship and adolescence, all much the same normal life of almost any child. Though there were still many obstacles to overcome for this family on the run and none of it would be as close as when the mother found herself stricken with an illness she never experienced in her life. It was at the age of ten, where Brynn told the full story of the son's family legacy though before tragically succumbing to her illness of consumption.
Miguel was then left an orphan, at the lowest levels of society, or what was left of it. Left to fend for himself, and with whatever luck brought him, could lift him out of this life of severity. Though as much as he fought to stay living in a harsh world, Miguel honed his survival by seeking job opportunities, working as a paper boy, courier, and countless other jobs to feed whatever family he had left. Mr. Finkerton had the fortune of being adopted by a friend of his mothers and grew up with Esteban Rodriguez and Jorge Arias who he considered brothers in his eyes. Without any other direction their lives, the boys had no other choice but to work which is where their opportunistic mentality had derived from as they then escalated into their own business of selling stolen items, though this is only the start.
Growing up as a white boy especially made Finkerton stand out predominately and though there were often residents with the same attributes, Miguel Finkerton was still an uncommon boy. It was his silver tongue that got the young man away from violent discourse by other children as well as his close relationship with his two close friends, Esteban Rodriguez and Jorge Arias who often helped defend one another at a moment's notice. All three boys became notorious for causing trouble as the years past, often taking part in petty crime in the community who involved themselves with mostly stealing. Though none of it would escalate until one truly dark moment in Finkerton's career.
Finkerton killed his first man at the age of twelve, a priest who sodomized him and other children with a pistol he found in the man's closest and thus would end his small reign of terror. It was in that moment where the young man's blood boiled, eager to avenging his father. There in that moment arose a new man: the hitman that would later claim the lives of over 200 men. Though he had yet to be the man he is today, Finkerton would later get away from his crime, leaving no trace of the once prolific priest that could lead to him. In the meanwhile, the young man would later take up boxing classes and was taught by Gerardo Hernandez, a well known prizefighter in the south though wouldn't achieve a boxing career no more than an amateur despite his nickname "El Chico Fuerte" who had 136 amateur fights with only 5 defeats and 3 draws.
A few years passed in his teenage-hood and Finkerton's friends had already accustomed themselves to becoming a gang of misfits, often making their money from petty stealing and loan-sharking from others their age. It was in that moment afterwards where their job of criminality would be full-time. Finkerton at the time, considered it apart of his conditioning in order to help avenge his father and all of those years, he hardened himself though never again took another life, saving it for the man who killed Carl Finkerton. At the age of 19, the young man had accumulated so much money, that he had no idea what to do with it until coming up with an idea to legitimizing his businesses through legal ones, often buying property and becoming a landlord who would rent property and as both businesses grew, so did his power. He was not however an illustrious businessman with a large sum of money as you'd expect, being a local gangster had its benefits, though often carried out with the most discretion if one were wise enough to survive in such a business. As most businesses did that were outside the law, Finkerton knew precaution was key and thus never truly expanded his industry any more than more than a town at a time.
At the age of 21 however, the businesses were relocated to the north, where the man could crawl all the more closer to the aging Benjamin Finkerton, the man who killed his father and with all of those years north, he was able to track the man down. Surprisingly however, Benjamin had little to no titles for he had bankrupted and plummeted the family's inheritance and had rendered the family name utterly nameless among proprietors as he realized the man he was going to kill had a business that was just as dried and dead as his father was. Nonetheless, he made the effort to kill the man, which he found living alone, a drunk-ridden mess, with a family that had long forgotten about him, assuming their were any left. Many could pity such a man, though Miguel Finkerton sought to end his life for killing his father. Though afterwards, he couldn't feel anything after killing the man - his hands and feet were numb, his body cold and empty; not quite the feeling he had expected for avenging his father. When he arrived, the small house the man was forced to live in was barren, the wood eroded and aged as if it were ancient. A desolate sight for a desolate man, living in the confines of shame. The man had sinned, this was true though was punished through a life of disappointing weak leadership.
It was later that, realizing that was nothing else to be gained, Finkerton resorted to keeping his own business living and prosperous. He had no need to gain the fortune that was destined to him (had there been any left) for he had made his own and that for him the young businessman considered a true gem during the whole ordeal. Finkerton had adjusted himself comfortably up north, spending a few years in a town where he would start several other businesses, both legitimate and otherwise. One of which, a business that would later help flow a high income of both popularity and revenue was prize-fighting, an illegal practice depending on which area one was in. Thanks to his bareknuckle boxing training, Finkerton thought he could get a piece of the action and became a promoter of the sport, training young men to be great champions like Gerardo Hernandez.
Though illegal in most areas, the festivity was watched by all even by lawmen. It was during this planning that the businessman was reunited with old time friend Gerardo Hernandez who at the time introduced Finkerton to his star pupil, destined to be great. His name was Alan Brucci, a young man who would later have a record of 52-3-7. Unfortunately, the great bareknuckle champion would pass from old age, leaving Alan Brucci under his wing and at the time the man was no champion for he had still been at his 21st bout, though with greatness, would take time. As the fighting progressed, more and more fans began to surround themselves around the young star which also generated the sum of money that was predicted of the young champion. All the meanwhile, Finkerton's business grew and later he would own two renowned bars infamously known for their fine liquor and service: Finkerton's Bar and Restaurant.
When the time was right, Finkerton decided moving to another location. His reasons were mostly unknown, but those who knew him best realized that it was all for one reason alone: boredom. As a man which such prowess of being a man with a dishonest career, could only handle power so long. Finkerton never wanted to expand his underground businesses and rather relocated them according to a city or town and chose to by a code: Never expand dangerous business. This was location he chose was Blackfinger, a town he knew very little of, though with time, would he know to become acquainted with the area, eliminating competition before owning the monopoly of the organized crime industry there and in just a few months.
Today, Finkerton is well-known in town, though not as much of a criminal but as a business-owner which is how he likes to keep it. His silver tongue and mannerisms are often noted by many apart from his intelligent and sly conversations one would have with him at his new bar in Blackfinger. Any man who crosses the path of criminality in the area however, knows all too well about the stories of Mr. Finkerton, and all know too well not to cross paths with such a man. It was to no surprise that he became the most feared man in town, though no one was ever good enough hold him to legal conviction.
Having barely known Spanish, a language she would learn as she grew accustomed to this bordertown, Brynn found it easily to communicate as both languages were spoken in this area. They adopted the name Barragán in order to hide their identity in their new home. The mother would spend time working while being taken care of by other adult women in the neighborhood around them took care of the children. Life would be good for the meanwhile, as the young Mr. Finkerton grew up almost the same way any child in a Steamtown would grow up in. There were fond memories of friendship and adolescence, all much the same normal life of almost any child. Though there were still many obstacles to overcome for this family on the run and none of it would be as close as when the mother found herself stricken with an illness she never experienced in her life. It was at the age of ten, where Brynn told the full story of the son's family legacy though before tragically succumbing to her illness of consumption.
Miguel was then left an orphan, at the lowest levels of society, or what was left of it. Left to fend for himself, and with whatever luck brought him, could lift him out of this life of severity. Though as much as he fought to stay living in a harsh world, Miguel honed his survival by seeking job opportunities, working as a paper boy, courier, and countless other jobs to feed whatever family he had left. Mr. Finkerton had the fortune of being adopted by a friend of his mothers and grew up with Esteban Rodriguez and Jorge Arias who he considered brothers in his eyes. Without any other direction their lives, the boys had no other choice but to work which is where their opportunistic mentality had derived from as they then escalated into their own business of selling stolen items, though this is only the start.
Growing up as a white boy especially made Finkerton stand out predominately and though there were often residents with the same attributes, Miguel Finkerton was still an uncommon boy. It was his silver tongue that got the young man away from violent discourse by other children as well as his close relationship with his two close friends, Esteban Rodriguez and Jorge Arias who often helped defend one another at a moment's notice. All three boys became notorious for causing trouble as the years past, often taking part in petty crime in the community who involved themselves with mostly stealing. Though none of it would escalate until one truly dark moment in Finkerton's career.
Finkerton killed his first man at the age of twelve, a priest who sodomized him and other children with a pistol he found in the man's closest and thus would end his small reign of terror. It was in that moment where the young man's blood boiled, eager to avenging his father. There in that moment arose a new man: the hitman that would later claim the lives of over 200 men. Though he had yet to be the man he is today, Finkerton would later get away from his crime, leaving no trace of the once prolific priest that could lead to him. In the meanwhile, the young man would later take up boxing classes and was taught by Gerardo Hernandez, a well known prizefighter in the south though wouldn't achieve a boxing career no more than an amateur despite his nickname "El Chico Fuerte" who had 136 amateur fights with only 5 defeats and 3 draws.
A few years passed in his teenage-hood and Finkerton's friends had already accustomed themselves to becoming a gang of misfits, often making their money from petty stealing and loan-sharking from others their age. It was in that moment afterwards where their job of criminality would be full-time. Finkerton at the time, considered it apart of his conditioning in order to help avenge his father and all of those years, he hardened himself though never again took another life, saving it for the man who killed Carl Finkerton. At the age of 19, the young man had accumulated so much money, that he had no idea what to do with it until coming up with an idea to legitimizing his businesses through legal ones, often buying property and becoming a landlord who would rent property and as both businesses grew, so did his power. He was not however an illustrious businessman with a large sum of money as you'd expect, being a local gangster had its benefits, though often carried out with the most discretion if one were wise enough to survive in such a business. As most businesses did that were outside the law, Finkerton knew precaution was key and thus never truly expanded his industry any more than more than a town at a time.
At the age of 21 however, the businesses were relocated to the north, where the man could crawl all the more closer to the aging Benjamin Finkerton, the man who killed his father and with all of those years north, he was able to track the man down. Surprisingly however, Benjamin had little to no titles for he had bankrupted and plummeted the family's inheritance and had rendered the family name utterly nameless among proprietors as he realized the man he was going to kill had a business that was just as dried and dead as his father was. Nonetheless, he made the effort to kill the man, which he found living alone, a drunk-ridden mess, with a family that had long forgotten about him, assuming their were any left. Many could pity such a man, though Miguel Finkerton sought to end his life for killing his father. Though afterwards, he couldn't feel anything after killing the man - his hands and feet were numb, his body cold and empty; not quite the feeling he had expected for avenging his father. When he arrived, the small house the man was forced to live in was barren, the wood eroded and aged as if it were ancient. A desolate sight for a desolate man, living in the confines of shame. The man had sinned, this was true though was punished through a life of disappointing weak leadership.
It was later that, realizing that was nothing else to be gained, Finkerton resorted to keeping his own business living and prosperous. He had no need to gain the fortune that was destined to him (had there been any left) for he had made his own and that for him the young businessman considered a true gem during the whole ordeal. Finkerton had adjusted himself comfortably up north, spending a few years in a town where he would start several other businesses, both legitimate and otherwise. One of which, a business that would later help flow a high income of both popularity and revenue was prize-fighting, an illegal practice depending on which area one was in. Thanks to his bareknuckle boxing training, Finkerton thought he could get a piece of the action and became a promoter of the sport, training young men to be great champions like Gerardo Hernandez.
Though illegal in most areas, the festivity was watched by all even by lawmen. It was during this planning that the businessman was reunited with old time friend Gerardo Hernandez who at the time introduced Finkerton to his star pupil, destined to be great. His name was Alan Brucci, a young man who would later have a record of 52-3-7. Unfortunately, the great bareknuckle champion would pass from old age, leaving Alan Brucci under his wing and at the time the man was no champion for he had still been at his 21st bout, though with greatness, would take time. As the fighting progressed, more and more fans began to surround themselves around the young star which also generated the sum of money that was predicted of the young champion. All the meanwhile, Finkerton's business grew and later he would own two renowned bars infamously known for their fine liquor and service: Finkerton's Bar and Restaurant.
When the time was right, Finkerton decided moving to another location. His reasons were mostly unknown, but those who knew him best realized that it was all for one reason alone: boredom. As a man which such prowess of being a man with a dishonest career, could only handle power so long. Finkerton never wanted to expand his underground businesses and rather relocated them according to a city or town and chose to by a code: Never expand dangerous business. This was location he chose was Blackfinger, a town he knew very little of, though with time, would he know to become acquainted with the area, eliminating competition before owning the monopoly of the organized crime industry there and in just a few months.
Today, Finkerton is well-known in town, though not as much of a criminal but as a business-owner which is how he likes to keep it. His silver tongue and mannerisms are often noted by many apart from his intelligent and sly conversations one would have with him at his new bar in Blackfinger. Any man who crosses the path of criminality in the area however, knows all too well about the stories of Mr. Finkerton, and all know too well not to cross paths with such a man. It was to no surprise that he became the most feared man in town, though no one was ever good enough hold him to legal conviction.
INVENTORY
When in town:
When on the Road:
- A five inch stag knife, he usually carries no matter what, no exceptions.
- Long barreled .44 revolver
- Small, emergency .22 Revolver, carried on his right leg.
When on the Road:
- M40 Scout Rifle, though prefers the hand cannon since his aim is rather mediocre.
- A five inch stag knife, he usually carries no matter what, no exceptions.
- Long barreled .44 revolver
- Small, emergency .22 Revolver, carried on his right leg.
- A set of binoculars
- Flint and steel
- Three pocket knives
- A Backpack, filled with an extra pair of clothing and a hammock for sleeping.
BUSINESSES
As most organized crime conducted themselves, the Finkerton posse affiliate themselves with murder, gambling, drug dealing, loan sharking, and most importantly, prize fighting, a mostly illegal (depending on what town their in) blood-sport they seem to generate the most revenue from. Mr. Finkerton considers himself a promoter, often getting fights for his prized underground bareknucle prize-fighter, Alan Brucci, a man with a impressive record of 52-3-7 as he gathers an ever-growing fan base.
There are now three Finkerton Bar's across this world, all three renown for their high quality service to customers in the towns they are located in though only one of these locations is where the small posse of gangsters would conduct their illegal businesses, the new one being located in Blackfinger.
REASON FOR VISITING
Business. Finkerton has lived in Blackfinger for a few months now upon buying a lot in the town of Blackfinger where the team could expand their legal businesses and relocate their illegitimate ones to the area given that the crime rate in the town was both low and unorganized, an advantage for these gangsters. As the finishing touches were added to the bar just a few weeks after construction, the businesses had finally opened, being a center source of entertainment for the town as a host of musicians, comedians, and entertainers would occupy the bar as well as the drunkards who came in after them.
RELATIONS
The lovely, beautiful wife of Mr. Finkerton, a business woman with almost the same mindset as Mr. Finkerton, though abstains from any violence necessary. She enjoys working with the company accountant, Wilson Harrow and Franklin Harris, often discussing any ways to further expedite their revenue. Amanda is not a spoiled woman, often she has a tendency of being a cheap, often alternating to buying less expensive clothing. Many would say that Mr. Finkerton does not deserve such a woman as he often neglects such attributes though nonetheless she remains a faithful partner even if he does not.
Mr. Finkerton's right hand man, more of a bodyguard than anything else and more than a brother than anyone Miguel can say about anyone else in his life. Standing at 6'3", Jorge is quite a menacing man which is also complemented by his sharp facial features including his long hook nose and bushy eye bows. He is a dark, copper-skinned man as most Mexicans in the south tend to be, though has light blue eyes. Many consider Jorge to be his muscle-man more than a regular business partner, given he is the largest of all men, both height and waist-wise though is not as bright as Finkerton's other man, Wilson Harrow.
Wilson Harrow is the type of man Mr. Finkerton would've become had he not had been penniless and on the run. An educated man, raised in a privileged lifestyle and brought up at the University, Wilson had the luxury of living under the wing of protection against the outside world, though despite this had yielded a man of humility than spotlessness. Though affiliated with his rough gang of misfits, Wilson is an honest man and stands more of an accountant and financier to his business than another hired gun, ready to whatever it was necessary to help the business than to do dirty work at a moment's notice. He currently stands as the company's lawyer due to his understanding of law and public speech.
Unlike the latter, Franklin is another hired gun, though it's his amiable appearance that makes him appropriate for the company's position in public relations. As Wilson is often busy managing the businesses earnings, Franklin is often the mitigater during times of aggression and is considered more of a diplomat more than lawyer. Though that doesn't mean he doesn't get his hands dirty when businesses is going to be conducted. A good sharpshooter, muscleman, and smooth-talker, Franklin would probably be the second-in-line to Mr. Finkerton's business.
A good friend of Mr. Finkerton and Jorge Arias growing up who now serves as one of the hired gunmen. He is known for being an excellent shot and serves as a valuable asset to the group.
Another childhood friend of Mr. Finkerton, though was not apart of his group until later in his life and was considered the baby brother of the group and therefore, not to be taken seriously. Though being a younger, Carlos had proven himself worthy of being a decent bodyguard and hired gun. The man isn't considerably dumb either and can easily help assisting Wilson Harrow on regards to fiances. Carlos usually helps maintain order in the bar, being both a bouncer and a cashier/bartender when Mr. Finkerton is not around. Like Harrow and Harris, Carlos is a convincing man, able to persuade others into buying whatever he can sell at hand.
With a professional bare-knuckle boxing career of 52-3-7 with 47 wins by knockout, it's hard to say that Alan Brucci isn't a hardened man. Born into the cesspool of poverty of a large city outside the ruins of a once great American Empire, Alan was a fighter, born to do things with his fist as well as talk his way out of fights well beyond his reach. Like Finkerton, Alan Brucci was trained by Gerardo Hernandez, the great boxing welterweight champion though continued his amateur career to professional-hood. In his 21st bout, the great Gerardo Hernandez died, leaving the company at the hands of Mr. Finkerton who took his opportunity to train eager young man to be champion prizefighters, one of them was Alan, who was the star pupil. Alan mostly spends time training when he isn't helping with Mr. Finkerton's businesses with his fists.
An Outsider A Glorious Failure
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Seen
1 yr ago
Malcolm Kincaid
“Boy, I’m giving this ‘pacifism’ thing a real, hard try, but you are sorely testing my resolve.”
NAME
Malcolm Kincaid
ALIAS
Malevolent Mal Johnson, Kingmaker
GENDER
Male
SKILLS
- Point this end at the thing you want to die: Mal’s lived the kind of life were a man gets himself very familiar with firearms, or he gets himself killed. Over the years he’s picked up a few fancy tricks, though it’s worth pointing out that he is far from a quickdraw artist, or sharpshooter supreme. His preference in violence has always been of the ‘up close and personal’ variety, and this shows in his less than stellar skills when it comes to handling a gun.
- Built to last, with the scars to prove it: Simply put, there ain’t no way that Mal is ever being mistaken for anything other than a violent bruiser. He stands at a respectable 6’3”, with a breadth of shoulders that just can’t be supplied by reading books, hands the size of shovels, and boasting neck muscles that a prize-winning bull could be proud of. Moreover, it’s more than obvious to the casual observer that he’s weathered more than his fair of storms in the past. His nose is a broken mess, his face bears the kind of scarring one would expect to find on a butcher’s chopping block, and somewhere along the line his right ear has been almost completely removed, leaving little more than a nub of gristle in its place. It ain’t the kind of face that has an easy time making friends, but it is the type that declares to all who lay eyes upon it ‘don’t fuck with this guy’, with remarkable aplomb.
- “Fuck Queensberry, you’re playing by my rules now.”: Much of Mal’s late adolescence and early adulthood was spent in the underground fighting rings of New Rojas. Being strong, tough, fast and vicious, it didn’t take him long to claw his way to the top of the fighter’s food chain. After that he spent years as Robert Prince’s favourite muscle, bodyguard, enforcer and leg breaker, roles he took to with an apparent grim gusto. Over the years he’s proven himself to have a real talent for violence, one that, until only recently, he’s had no issues with displaying. When Mal fights, it ain’t pretty. But it sure is effective.
- Not as stupid as he looks: You know that old dichotomy about being ‘street smart, not book smart’. Well Mal is most certainly the former rather than the latter. He doesn’t know his letters, would look at you blankly if you asked him to calculate seven times seven, and has no idea what gravity is beyond it being the thing that keeps him falling off into the sky, but the man doesn’t miss a trick when it comes to criminal scams or rackets, having been a’part of so many. Of special note is his ability to read people, and accurately identify their current emotions, and even their intentions, through facial and body cues. When you’ve spent the last ten years bodyguarding a fella who half a city want dead, you learn to tell when a stranger’s frown means he’s packing heat and means to offload a couple rounds into your boss’s chest, or if he’s just sulking cause he’d been caught cheating with the nanny by his missus that morning. It ain’t an exact art, and he’s far from infallible in his estimations, but he’s been right more often than he’s been wrong.
PERSONALITY
Based on his ill-reputation and brutish appearance, many would figure Malcolm Kincaid to be little more than that in personality: a brute. In some ways that is a very fair and accurate assumption. In others, it is most unkind. For example, it is true that Mal enjoys a good fight. However, it is not the violence itself that he enjoys, but rather the occasion to test himself against another able-bodied opponent, the chance to strive for victory, the prospect of displaying his physical superiority, not just to his foe but to himself. He feels this is a far more valorous reason to enjoy fighting than simply for a love of carnage, but he has never corrected those who view him as bloodhungry, for no other reason than those misconceptions fed into his already impressively dark reputation. Simply put, folk’s initial impressions about Mal are oftentimes correct, but usually for all the wrong reasons, and he merely chose to let them continue misbelieving.
Also, contrary to popular opinion, he does, in fact, have a heart. He does feel for the innocent families he has destroyed, or the poor and needy that he has put the squeeze on to wring out those last few coins they owed Robert Prince, the people he’s hurt and the crimes he’s committed. It’s just that his upbringing had taught him that the strong do what they must to remain strong, and the weak suffer what they have to, and him taking pity on all those who cry ‘please not me’ ain’t gonna change nothing for no one. Nothing in life is easy, so the quicker you harden yourself to it, the better.
In keeping with this, his moral compass is more than a little skewed. The complete ins and outs of Mal’s own code is mostly a mystery, even to him, subject to the whims of his own moods and needs at the time, though there are two special constants: A man never harms a child, and nor does he force himself upon a woman. Those where the two lessons that Violet Kincaid instilled into him, and those are the two lines he said he would never cross. Everything else, well that’s fair game. If a man’s strong enough to do a thing, well then he can do it, though only if another man ain’t strong enough to stop him.
… Or at least those are the justifications that he has been using for so long. Now, since setting out on a path to betterment, he ain’t so sure that those reasons hold that much water anymore. It might just be age – he’s only 36, but damn if he doesn’t feel older – but that conscience seems like it’s getting heavier and heavier every damned day.
Also, contrary to popular opinion, he does, in fact, have a heart. He does feel for the innocent families he has destroyed, or the poor and needy that he has put the squeeze on to wring out those last few coins they owed Robert Prince, the people he’s hurt and the crimes he’s committed. It’s just that his upbringing had taught him that the strong do what they must to remain strong, and the weak suffer what they have to, and him taking pity on all those who cry ‘please not me’ ain’t gonna change nothing for no one. Nothing in life is easy, so the quicker you harden yourself to it, the better.
In keeping with this, his moral compass is more than a little skewed. The complete ins and outs of Mal’s own code is mostly a mystery, even to him, subject to the whims of his own moods and needs at the time, though there are two special constants: A man never harms a child, and nor does he force himself upon a woman. Those where the two lessons that Violet Kincaid instilled into him, and those are the two lines he said he would never cross. Everything else, well that’s fair game. If a man’s strong enough to do a thing, well then he can do it, though only if another man ain’t strong enough to stop him.
… Or at least those are the justifications that he has been using for so long. Now, since setting out on a path to betterment, he ain’t so sure that those reasons hold that much water anymore. It might just be age – he’s only 36, but damn if he doesn’t feel older – but that conscience seems like it’s getting heavier and heavier every damned day.
HISTORY
Who were Malcolm Kincaid’s parents? Well, truth is he doesn’t rightly know. They were both long gone before he was even able to walk. He ended up being raised by his grandmother, a tough old bitch named Violet Kincaid. Violet had claimed on numerous occasions to have lived through the cataclysm that had destroyed the Old World, though whether that was true or not, Mal wasn’t sure. What he did know was that Violet was prone to telling some damn unbelievable stories about the time before, about a world that had been infected with rot and sickness, populated by weak men and degenerates, which deserved nothing better than to be burned clean. Violet was of a mind that this new world was better, where the strong could lay claim to whatever they could hold onto, and the meek made themselves content with that which they deserved: nothing. She imparted these beliefs onto young Malcolm, and encouraged him to become the kind of man who wouldn’t inherit a place in this new land, but would actively carve himself off a piece.
In Violet’s defence, Mal may have taken her lessons about ‘strength’ a touch too literal, and decided what made that mark of a great man was how girth his arms were, how hard his fists, how much a beating he could take and keep getting up to hand one back. Or maybe that was exactly what the old boot had meant. By the time Mal was old enough to think to ask for clarification, she had already passed, victim to old age. Another relic of the Old Times, lost to history some said. Though not many. She didn’t have many friends, and those she did have weren’t the types to waste time on poetry. It didn’t matter anyway, Malcolm wasn’t concerned with what he had lost. He was more interested in what he could gain. With the eagerness of a twelve-year-old who figured he had figured out the secret to success, he left Violet’s small steading in the Jefferson farmlands to make his way to New Rojas, there were he would make his fortune.
It didn’t take him long to get involved with the fighting rings the city was infamous for, falling in with fight promoter and trainer Joseph ‘Big Murph’ Murphy, who took one look at the strapping farm lad and decided that there was more than a touch of untapped potential there. For the next four years Mal was trained in the art of pugilism, before Big Murph finally decided that the young man was ready for a taste of the action. Mal got hammered something awful in his first proper fight, though earned respect with the meagre crowds for his willingness to take a punch if it meant he got to hand some hurt of his own back out, earning himself the byname ‘Malevolent Mal’ for the mile-wide mean streak that he seemed to have.
That first fight was just the beginning though, igniting in Mal a passion to show everyone just how tough he could be. In his mind if the secret to success in life was being strong, then surely it could only swing in your favour if everyone knew you were the strongest one going. He took every match he could, sometimes fighting three nights a week, making a Big Murph a pretty penny while also catching the eyes of several notable city gang bosses. The fighting circuit had long been a talent pool for the local criminal elements to recruit their muscle, and so by the time Mal became the underground fist-fighting champion of New Rojas at age twenty-three, he was a damn hot commodity. Of all the offers of employment that came his way, it was the one from up and coming gang boss Robert Prince which caught his attention.
Prince, ostensibly a young landowner and philanthropist from a moderately wealthy family, was, and still is, a hugely ambitious loan shark and property tycoon who had concluded that a man could make more money in a month from illegal means than he could in a year from legal ones. His raw cunning, business acumen, and cut throat ruthlessness had allowed him to carve quite the criminal empire in New Rojas, though his rapid ascent had attracted numerous powerful rivals. Knowing that he couldn’t continue to grow without some muscle to back up his brains, he reached out to Mal. The young Kincaid was entranced with the charismatic Prince, drawn to his similar philosophy that ‘the strong do as they must, the weak suffer what they have to’. More than that, he was attracted by the opportunity to hitch his wagon to Prince’s when he was beset on all sides by enemies and obstacles, by the potential respect and glory that would be his when he had helped Robert conquer them all.
Together the two young men fought to secure their place in the criminal society of New Rojas, Mal quickly becoming Robert’s iron fist, earning himself a hard-won reputation for savagery and brutality against all those who would cross his boss and friend. Ironically his stature is in some ways greater than Roberts, as Prince spent many thousands of dollars in PR campaigns to keep up his façade as a well-meaning man of the people, only interested in the betterment of New Rojas. Mal seemed so integral to Robert’s rise in power that it became a common joke that he was the ‘Kingmaker’ who would give Prince the throne of New Rojas. Not a very funny joke, right enough, but a joke nonetheless.
Things seemed good for a long time, until Robert ordered Mal to kill a woman, a young singer named Brenda Green that Prince had been sleeping with behind his wife’s back. While Mal had some misgivings about killing a woman, he complied, reasoning that the Green’s choices had led to this, not his. However after the deed was done Mal discovered that Brenda had been pregnant with Prince’s child, and that was why Robert had him kill her, as if it was discovered that he had fathered a bastard out of wedlock it could destroy his reputation. Mal was infuriated. He didn’t kill children, that was one of his only two rules, and Prince knew that. He stormed towards his old friend’s house, intent on having a reckoning with him. However upon arriving he was attacked by Prince and several of his other men, and in the resulting shoot out Mal accidentally killed Prince’s wife. In the confusion he fled, knowing that even he would have little chance standing against his former-friend in his own city, not with all the many and influence at Prince’s fingertips.
After some soul searching, and a long month sequestered in a rural church, Mal has decided that a life of violence has brought him nothing but pain and misery, and perhaps the path of pacifism may bring him something of substance. He’s not sure he believes that really, but he’ll try anything once, and it’s not as if he has much else to lose. With nowhere else to go, he has trekked a long way to Blackfinger hoping to make himself a new start.
Why Blackfinger? Well he’s hoping it’s far enough away from New Rojas that no one recognises him for that two-thousand-dollar bounty that the city has on his head for the murders of Brenda Green, Michelle Prince, and near countless other. If not?
In Violet’s defence, Mal may have taken her lessons about ‘strength’ a touch too literal, and decided what made that mark of a great man was how girth his arms were, how hard his fists, how much a beating he could take and keep getting up to hand one back. Or maybe that was exactly what the old boot had meant. By the time Mal was old enough to think to ask for clarification, she had already passed, victim to old age. Another relic of the Old Times, lost to history some said. Though not many. She didn’t have many friends, and those she did have weren’t the types to waste time on poetry. It didn’t matter anyway, Malcolm wasn’t concerned with what he had lost. He was more interested in what he could gain. With the eagerness of a twelve-year-old who figured he had figured out the secret to success, he left Violet’s small steading in the Jefferson farmlands to make his way to New Rojas, there were he would make his fortune.
It didn’t take him long to get involved with the fighting rings the city was infamous for, falling in with fight promoter and trainer Joseph ‘Big Murph’ Murphy, who took one look at the strapping farm lad and decided that there was more than a touch of untapped potential there. For the next four years Mal was trained in the art of pugilism, before Big Murph finally decided that the young man was ready for a taste of the action. Mal got hammered something awful in his first proper fight, though earned respect with the meagre crowds for his willingness to take a punch if it meant he got to hand some hurt of his own back out, earning himself the byname ‘Malevolent Mal’ for the mile-wide mean streak that he seemed to have.
That first fight was just the beginning though, igniting in Mal a passion to show everyone just how tough he could be. In his mind if the secret to success in life was being strong, then surely it could only swing in your favour if everyone knew you were the strongest one going. He took every match he could, sometimes fighting three nights a week, making a Big Murph a pretty penny while also catching the eyes of several notable city gang bosses. The fighting circuit had long been a talent pool for the local criminal elements to recruit their muscle, and so by the time Mal became the underground fist-fighting champion of New Rojas at age twenty-three, he was a damn hot commodity. Of all the offers of employment that came his way, it was the one from up and coming gang boss Robert Prince which caught his attention.
Prince, ostensibly a young landowner and philanthropist from a moderately wealthy family, was, and still is, a hugely ambitious loan shark and property tycoon who had concluded that a man could make more money in a month from illegal means than he could in a year from legal ones. His raw cunning, business acumen, and cut throat ruthlessness had allowed him to carve quite the criminal empire in New Rojas, though his rapid ascent had attracted numerous powerful rivals. Knowing that he couldn’t continue to grow without some muscle to back up his brains, he reached out to Mal. The young Kincaid was entranced with the charismatic Prince, drawn to his similar philosophy that ‘the strong do as they must, the weak suffer what they have to’. More than that, he was attracted by the opportunity to hitch his wagon to Prince’s when he was beset on all sides by enemies and obstacles, by the potential respect and glory that would be his when he had helped Robert conquer them all.
Together the two young men fought to secure their place in the criminal society of New Rojas, Mal quickly becoming Robert’s iron fist, earning himself a hard-won reputation for savagery and brutality against all those who would cross his boss and friend. Ironically his stature is in some ways greater than Roberts, as Prince spent many thousands of dollars in PR campaigns to keep up his façade as a well-meaning man of the people, only interested in the betterment of New Rojas. Mal seemed so integral to Robert’s rise in power that it became a common joke that he was the ‘Kingmaker’ who would give Prince the throne of New Rojas. Not a very funny joke, right enough, but a joke nonetheless.
Things seemed good for a long time, until Robert ordered Mal to kill a woman, a young singer named Brenda Green that Prince had been sleeping with behind his wife’s back. While Mal had some misgivings about killing a woman, he complied, reasoning that the Green’s choices had led to this, not his. However after the deed was done Mal discovered that Brenda had been pregnant with Prince’s child, and that was why Robert had him kill her, as if it was discovered that he had fathered a bastard out of wedlock it could destroy his reputation. Mal was infuriated. He didn’t kill children, that was one of his only two rules, and Prince knew that. He stormed towards his old friend’s house, intent on having a reckoning with him. However upon arriving he was attacked by Prince and several of his other men, and in the resulting shoot out Mal accidentally killed Prince’s wife. In the confusion he fled, knowing that even he would have little chance standing against his former-friend in his own city, not with all the many and influence at Prince’s fingertips.
After some soul searching, and a long month sequestered in a rural church, Mal has decided that a life of violence has brought him nothing but pain and misery, and perhaps the path of pacifism may bring him something of substance. He’s not sure he believes that really, but he’ll try anything once, and it’s not as if he has much else to lose. With nowhere else to go, he has trekked a long way to Blackfinger hoping to make himself a new start.
Why Blackfinger? Well he’s hoping it’s far enough away from New Rojas that no one recognises him for that two-thousand-dollar bounty that the city has on his head for the murders of Brenda Green, Michelle Prince, and near countless other. If not?
INVENTORY
- Triple barrelled shotgun: As mentioned above, Mal ain’t no legendary gunslinger. He prefers to get in close and hurt the other guy bad before they can do the same to him. The shotgun suits that preference down to the ground, and the wide spread goes some way to making up for his deficits in the ‘aiming’ department too. Win-win.
- .45 long barrelled single action colt: Even a poor gunman needs to have some kinda iron hanging off his hip, even if it’s just to flash and rattle when he’s trying to look tough.
- Hatchet: A mean little hatchet with a wicked sharp blade. Mal far prefers this little beauty to any paltry knife. To his mind it’s far more versatile – for both legal and illegal needs – and almost as easy to conceal. Besides, he’s found that nothing says ‘you been talking when you shoulda been listening’ quite like a hatchet to the face.
- Cigar pouch with three cigars: When a hounds done good you give it a treat, right? Robert Prince used to give Mal all kinds of treats. Money, drink, women. All that’s gone now. All except these three last smokes. Mal tells himself he’s saving them for a special occasion, as they’re just too good to be wasting, and he’s unlike to ever get his mitts on their calibre again. Just what that special occasion is, well he doesn’t rightly know. He reckons he’ll recognise it when he sees it.
REASON FOR VISITING
Mal ain’t so much visiting as he is looking for a place to put down roots, a special somewhere where he can make a real try at being that ‘better man’ that the priest told him he could become. Blackfinger seems as good a place as any, and is hopefully far enough away from New Rojas for him to be safe from the long reach of Robert Prince.
RELATIONS
Mal’s mule. He calls her horse. It’s a complicated relationship they have.
Everyone else Mal ever knew he left behind in New Rojas. He’s hoping they’ll stay there.
“Surviving a night is one thing. Living to eat a Turkish Delight is another matter entirely.”
NAME
Ernest Helmer
ALIAS
The Candyman | Candyman | Mr. Sweets | "Mr. Strubbles"
GENDER
Male
SKILLS
- Confectioner : Anyone could cook, given enough time, food, and mistakes, but making sweets is another matter entirely. There are sugars and flavors of a very specific type, and the resources for those are scarce and expensive. Not all farmers know how to take care of cane without inviting pests, and not nearly enough so-called "cooks" can bring a good desert to the table. Even less can spell the difference between a taffy and a toffee, and still less can be damned to taste the difference. That leaves a lot of disgruntled little children and pouty old farts hungry for something more out of life. Compared to most of the world, that makes Ernest an earnest, bona-fide confectioner and connoisseur of candy; so long as he doesn't have to worry too much about any competitors stealing his craft, he'll continue his hell-bent journey to bring back the Old World's centuries-old recipes, one cavity at a time.
- Concrete Navigator : Of course, in order to find such recipes, one needs to look over every nook and cranny possible, especially within the Old World cities. Ernest's Old Glory heritage comes well into play here; he can eyeball the lifespan of a building, scale a skyscraper, or even wade through the bottom of an overfilled tunnel, if it comes to it. It's been years since he's left Old Glory, and Time has a habit of taking the best of his tricks. It would be no exaggeration to say that Ernest is far past his heyday in both the lateral and longitudinal respect, though he's got plenty of patience to make up for it.
- (Culinary) Chemist : Ernest's ability to take note of a variety of materials stems heavily from his saccharine pursuit. As he isn't very literate, Ernest often has asked medicine-men and other people of science to describe to him the ingredients of various cook-books that he finds. In return, many of these intellects get back a once-in-a-lifetime taste. As long as someone can read out the name of an ingredient, Ernest may be able to list a few basic characteristics of a few elements, alloys, and ingredients...albeit a touch simplistically.
PERSONALITY
Contrary to popular belief, being old does not equate to wittiness nor wisdom; Ernest, as his namesake implies, is a very earnest man when he goes about any business of any sort. It's a sort of fault that betrays both former confidants' and presumptuous associates' trade secrets to the world, but the very same fault has often protected him from situations that would otherwise spell out for many others certain doom.
Take, for example, the one time he made the mistake of entering Jefferson using an Old World gun as a cane. Appraisers, scrappers, and thugs alike were quick to take his gun and break his leg, but when pressed to give up more than what he could bear to part with, he imparted to them the recipe for butterscotch candy.
Jefferson now has a thriving butterscotch business that bosses and the bourgeoisie, both over and under the table, can all enjoy. While the gangs won't acknowledge his contribution to their quality of life, Ernest does have the comfort of being treated like any other Jeffersonian. That's all Ernest could ever care for, aside from pursuing his dream to become a confectioner.
Take, for example, the one time he made the mistake of entering Jefferson using an Old World gun as a cane. Appraisers, scrappers, and thugs alike were quick to take his gun and break his leg, but when pressed to give up more than what he could bear to part with, he imparted to them the recipe for butterscotch candy.
Jefferson now has a thriving butterscotch business that bosses and the bourgeoisie, both over and under the table, can all enjoy. While the gangs won't acknowledge his contribution to their quality of life, Ernest does have the comfort of being treated like any other Jeffersonian. That's all Ernest could ever care for, aside from pursuing his dream to become a confectioner.
HISTORY
If Ernest were to be born anywhere but Old Glory, he might have been a man of science or art living happily in his own private establishment. He might have had a rough relationship with a more pragmatic girl that would once have been a dreamer like he was. There might be a bastard girl between them, either adopted or abandoned by one or the other parent, that would grow up to be as tough as nails on the outside and oh-so tender on the inside. That bastard girl might have succeeded his business and would be traveling the world with her significant other while her estranged parents would spend their twilight years finding themselves for the umpteenth time and die in happiness.
But Ernest wasn't born in anywhere but Old Glory; that much could be apparent to even the locals of the Old Cities themselves. Eyes keen for details and patterns gnawed on old, crumbling artifacts for practice, and in those early years, Ernest became something of a environmentalist. Whereas most scrappers would be watching the Old World's monuments as places for ambushing, Ernest was busy getting high off of just the sight of a wonderfully irradiated plant or sinkhole-turned pool. When treading through particularly overgrown stretches of wilderness, Ernest made it a point to follow the most clear path to avoid cutting the plants. His mother, a single Scrapper that had found him in the remains of an obliterated caravan, couldn't afford the time to care about the eccentricities of her son. She raised him as best as she could by teaching him the basic necessities of survival, all her little technological tricks and novelties included. It wasn't often that a Scrapper could be worth killing, as they were often broke from having no money or already spending all of it. For this lack of resources, Scrappers often had to be as resourceful as whatever they might have on hand.
That's how life was : constant migration, constant searching, constant refurbishing.
Then his mother's hair started falling off. It right after she got out of a seemingly clean pool of water. Neither were sure what was in the pool exactly, but everything simply became worse. The woman began to show stress lines and signs of fatigue, despite resting well over eight hours a day with plenty of food to burn through. Then her irises began to change color, and her skin took on different blotches of tan, olive, red, black, and so on and so forth. Something in that pool had changed her irreparably, and so Ernest was chased away with a few poorly-aimed shots from his very own mother. She didn't want the kid seeing her die so horrible a death.
Needless to say, he returned a few days to find her bleached-white skeleton sitting exactly as he had left her. It was then that Ernest inherited all of his "mother" 's possessions and found a cookbook. He was illiterate, though, so he went off back to town and began to sell one memory at a time to learn how to use said cookbook.
The only thing he couldn't let go of was her two guns and the cookbook; one of them (what people in the Old World would call an SKS) was stolen, so he's kept the one other gun close to his body and even closer to his heart. His first recipe was Turkish Delights; it was attempted only by a few since the War passed, but as Ernest had quite the excess of money, he could afford to fail again and again.
Two years later, at 17, Ernest finally mastered the Turkish Delight. It was no exaggeration to say that he exhausted what little of Old Glory's cane supply was available. In search of the same ingredients and more to continue experimenting, Ernest walked off to the West to lose himself in the culinary arts and the world at large.
He's never looked back for 44 years, marking him at the ripe old age of 61.
But Ernest wasn't born in anywhere but Old Glory; that much could be apparent to even the locals of the Old Cities themselves. Eyes keen for details and patterns gnawed on old, crumbling artifacts for practice, and in those early years, Ernest became something of a environmentalist. Whereas most scrappers would be watching the Old World's monuments as places for ambushing, Ernest was busy getting high off of just the sight of a wonderfully irradiated plant or sinkhole-turned pool. When treading through particularly overgrown stretches of wilderness, Ernest made it a point to follow the most clear path to avoid cutting the plants. His mother, a single Scrapper that had found him in the remains of an obliterated caravan, couldn't afford the time to care about the eccentricities of her son. She raised him as best as she could by teaching him the basic necessities of survival, all her little technological tricks and novelties included. It wasn't often that a Scrapper could be worth killing, as they were often broke from having no money or already spending all of it. For this lack of resources, Scrappers often had to be as resourceful as whatever they might have on hand.
That's how life was : constant migration, constant searching, constant refurbishing.
Then his mother's hair started falling off. It right after she got out of a seemingly clean pool of water. Neither were sure what was in the pool exactly, but everything simply became worse. The woman began to show stress lines and signs of fatigue, despite resting well over eight hours a day with plenty of food to burn through. Then her irises began to change color, and her skin took on different blotches of tan, olive, red, black, and so on and so forth. Something in that pool had changed her irreparably, and so Ernest was chased away with a few poorly-aimed shots from his very own mother. She didn't want the kid seeing her die so horrible a death.
Needless to say, he returned a few days to find her bleached-white skeleton sitting exactly as he had left her. It was then that Ernest inherited all of his "mother" 's possessions and found a cookbook. He was illiterate, though, so he went off back to town and began to sell one memory at a time to learn how to use said cookbook.
The only thing he couldn't let go of was her two guns and the cookbook; one of them (what people in the Old World would call an SKS) was stolen, so he's kept the one other gun close to his body and even closer to his heart. His first recipe was Turkish Delights; it was attempted only by a few since the War passed, but as Ernest had quite the excess of money, he could afford to fail again and again.
Two years later, at 17, Ernest finally mastered the Turkish Delight. It was no exaggeration to say that he exhausted what little of Old Glory's cane supply was available. In search of the same ingredients and more to continue experimenting, Ernest walked off to the West to lose himself in the culinary arts and the world at large.
He's never looked back for 44 years, marking him at the ripe old age of 61.
INVENTORY
- An Old-World Revolver called "Rhino"; empty and unusable since he was last shot at, but still makes for a good threat and a good work of reference for any aspiring gunsmith.
- A large backpack, containing :
- "Cookbook for Confectioner's : An Easy How-To"
- Steel Spatula
- Other utensils
- Cooking Pot
- Grappling Hook
- Rope and Anchors
- A listless amount of pouches for ingredients
REASON FOR VISITING
"I heard cane grows well in the water; maybe I can start a farm here..."
RELATIONS
He is survived by one Joe Tuckett, who shares the "Mr. Strubbles" title for being one of two Old Glory confectioners.
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