Name: Adeline "Addy" Reese
Age: 30
Sex: Female
Sexuality: Many rumors abound that Miss Reese keeps the company of either sex; she does nothing to quell them. People will talk.
Relationship Status: Single

The Body

Height: 5'9"
Weight: 124
Hair: Black as midnight
Eyes: Green as an emerald
Skin Tone: Colored
Appearance:
Miss Reese is something of a child of controversy least of all because of lingering sentiment from unsavory sorts. The controversy comes more from her preference towards two rather unique schools of thought. She admires the flapper style of skirted dress, short hair, and a rather long cigarette. She, however, can mostly get away with it when she's on stage and the spotlight beams down on her harder than the eyes of the audience. It's when she adorns pants, men's slacks, and the accompanying vest that it becomes a little harder to defend for those who see it as a problem.

The Soul

Likes: The clink of ice as a drink is downed. The electric hum that hangs over a crowd as they await a show worth remembering. The sound of rain pattering off the roof. The first drag of the day. Stimulating conversation.
Dislikes: Crime, even of the organized sort...especially of the organized sort. The ocean, more specifically boats. Zeal of any sort, it's a remarkably bad look. Large cats, even a house cat has her rather wary.
Skills:

• Can charm the hat off of almost anyone worth charming.
• A quick wit betrays a quicker intellect.
• Regardless of how good she is or isn't, when talking fails she isn't afraid to scrap.
• Has a stash of money. Just in case.
• Can't drive a car but she can still ride a horse.

Brief History:

• Born in Louisiana and was considered a real swamp witch given the proximity to the bayou.
• Father was a gator farmer. Brother lost an arm which led to him losing a whole lot more.
• A trip to the city to sell meat and skin had Addy hearing the blues for the first time.
• Stole herself a banjo. Her daddy paid for it.
• Attended Dillard University to learn enough to get by.
• Relocated to Chicago, playing piano and banjo. Worked her way up to singing. Caught the attention of a club owner out east.
• Miss Reese's Quartet becomes something of a staple in the New York nightlife, and yet she wants.

The Story

Even without the setting sun as a backdrop it was easy to tell what time of day it was based on the amount of smoke in the little theater on the corner of 45th. The theater was a green mark location, it was safe for clientele who were liable to get a side glance from the wrong sort just for breathing the same air. Funny, that. Not even a war had colored boys fighting hand in hand, but here? So long as your money was green it didn't matter none what you looked like. Ask anybody who counts themselves a fan of the music, the ambiance, the tickling of the ivories, the toot of a horn and the sultry velvet of a voice that could launch a thousand ships to war and they'd tell you all the same. Man, woman, black, white, yellow, blue, whatever: the place to be for the real jazz blues was wherever Miss Reese was on the ticket.

Adeline Reese put out her cigarette as her band boys were working through their setup. There was Little Boy Roy the wizard on the sticks, he really put his soul into every beat on the drum and if there was ever something that got the toes tapping it was Little Boy Roy when the jazz really started to swing. Leroy Brown was a sax man who kept his nose clean and what was left of his greying hair slick; given his seniority it was no secret that his sax told stories every time he played, and even with his age the boy could still play. Leroy Brown was something of a mentor to Sean O'Dwyer, a young kid roundabout Dublin who barely had a penny to his name but boy did the kid love his music and he'd be a sax man yet. Martin Budd tickled the strings with hard fingers and a harder soul. That left just one, the self appointed mother of the new wave, of swinging jazz and sultry blues, Miss Adeline Reese. Most nights she was under the spotlight, crooning and singing songs that had music and lyrics but a lack of soul; elseways she was playing the piano along with the boys.

The gig was surely good. Miss Reese's Quartet did circuits around New York, always returning to their own little rented theater to play once the wealthier elements had their fill of uppity jazz players and the salacious starlet that stole the center spotlight. Miss Reese preferred it in the smaller location even with the rustles of the Italians and their allies harping about protection. Miss Reese could talk them down, but for how much longer even she didn't know. But her dealings with the supposed sophisticated crime racket was just another in a long line of nuisances. For as many people as liked to hear her and her boys sing and play, there were as many more that resented the fact that a colored crew got the attention - and the Irish kid Sean was lumped in the lot.

But as much as Miss Reese enjoyed the duality of fame and infamy in good measure, she was wanting for more. For something that truly moved the soul. She could sing and play and help people dance the night away, but there were only so many times old numbers remained entertaining. Miss Reese needed that spark, that inspiration to write her own pieces, to regale the audience inbetween numbers with sordid material that was just exaggerated enough to seem unbelievable but with enough reality to be unforgettable. What Miss Reese needed other than her fame...was excitement.

That was what drew her eyes that particular evening to an ad pulled from one of Roy's papers - Miss Reese was so proud of him the day he started reading something other than music. She'd read, re-read, and gone over the information over a couple of cigarettes now. If nothing else it was a way to meet the more human element of the city, the people who might otherwise just be faceless flappers or whisky sours.

"Leroy, darling, fetch me the telephone. I've a Miss Hobbs to ring..."

The Ether

Color Code: CC00FF
Theme Song: Nobody Knows When You're Down and Out

Name: Arthur Donaven
Age: 30
Sex: Male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Relationship Status: Single

The Body

Height: 6'1
Weight: 221
Hair: Auburn
Eyes: L eye Green/R eye Blue
Skin Tone: Tanned
Appearance: Arthur has the build of a man who has worked hard his entire life, and has the scars to match. His fore arms are littered in scars ranging from burns to bullet wounds, but the most noticeable ones are the long jagged scar that crosses over his jugular across his throat, and what appears to be claw marks going across his face from left to right.

The Soul

Likes: Liquor of any kind, Sex, Animals of any kind, Honest people, the color green, His hat and Duster, fighting
Dislikes: Rich people, Lies, anyone who attacks the weak, automobiles, electronics, anyone who thinks they are better then anyone else
Skills:

• Can ride horses/bulls/donkeys/mules
• Crack shot with any revolver/lever action rifle
• Can clean any revolver in one minute or less.
• Can make a weapon out of anything in a fight.
• Can stitch up cuts and gashes.
• His left eye is capable of seeing in the dark, and seeing paranormal entity's that would otherwise go unnoticed.

Brief History:

• 1862- Mathius Donovan is born
• 1885- Mathius Donovan becomes Sheriff
• 1883- Mathius Donovan Marries
• 1883- Mathius Donovan retires and buys a ranch
• 1891- Arthur Donovan is born
• 1906- Mathius Donovan is shot down and Arthur Donovan inherits the family ranch
• 1911- Arthur Donovan kills his father's murderer in self defense after confronting the man
• 1916- Arthur Donovan Marries
• 1920- Arthur begins having nightmares
• 1921- Arthur and his wife are attacked by an unseen force leaving Arthur as the only survivor
• 1921- Arthur discovers he can now see things he shouldn't be able too see.

The Story

Arthur had been many things over the last thirty years, all of which lead him here. Riding a horse through the middle New York City, one of the few places on this earth he had sworn he would never end up, garbed in his father's old riding duster and Hat, and a dust caked flannel and jeans. Not more then a month ago he had been a simple rancher, but thanks to life's shitty sense of humor he had lost it all. With everything he now owned saddled to his trusty steed, Arthur knew of one place to go when life got hard.

Thanks to the prohibition saloons were long gone, replaced with speakeasy's but as long as Arthur cold get drunk that's all he cared about. The only problem was they didn't just advertise themselves to the world. But if you knew what to look for you'd find one. One of the things to keep an eye out for were what Arthur had refered to as mules. They were those who spent abnormal amounts of time near any one business, usually on the lookout for the law.

It took a while but eventually Arthur happened upon a young lad who had been circling the same drug store for going an hour. The kid was clearly on edge and the moment he spotted Arthur and his horse he grew even more tense, almost shrinking into himself as if to make himself smaller and less noticeable. Sliding off his saddle, his boots hit the paved road beneath him with a clank of his spurs, and reaching into his duster he pulled out a handful of dollar bills before waving them casually at the boy saying.

"Hey boy, looking to make a quick buck?"

The boy noticed the money first and after checking the surroundings, for what Arthur could only assume was for the law, the boy mde his way to Arthur cautiously saying "Need somethin mister?"

"Listen up boy, I got seven dollars here for you, but first I just need you to answer two questions." The boy nodded cautiously acknowledging him so he continued."First off, as I'm sure you noticed I aint from these parts, and I was hoping you could tell me if the drug store might be selling anything that could wet my whistle?"

The boy eye'd the man over for a long while before leaning in close and whispering "I'd ask inside for the miss."

Arthur thanked the boy for the information before smiling down at him saying "Last question, While I'm inside would you be willing to keep an eye on my horse? She's friendly as the day is long, and as long as you stay beside her you'll be fine." The boy eye'd the horse over slowly before nodding to Arthur agreeing to watch his horse. With a smile Arthur handed the boy the reigns and the seven dollars before slipping a carrot and an apple out of one of the saddle bags, handing the apple to the boy before feeding the carrot to his horse. "Her names Sally. You be nice to her and she'll be nice to you."

As soon as Arthur was finished with the boy and certain he wasn't about to take off with his horse he made his way into the old Drug store. As Arthur entered the drug store the door set off the bell drawing the Attention of a scrappy looking man behind the counter.

"Welcome, welcome! If there's anything I can help ya find just holler." The man said in a sickeningly sweet tone.

"Actually," Arthur began " I was hoping to talk to the miss?" The man behind the counter suddenly lost all of his cheery demeanor as he eyed Arthur over suspiciously for a long minute. "I'm new in town and someone told me she could help me fill my canteen." The man stayed silent for almost an entire minute as he eye'd Arthur over from top to bottom before nodding his head in the direction of the door behind him labeled 'Employees Only'. Arthur thanked the man before heading through the door leading too a old dark stairwell. As the farther down the steps he went the more and more he began to smell the distinct smell of liquor and Arthur knew anything it was that either they had the law in there pocket or they would be found out soon enough. Reaching the bottom of the old cobblestone steps Arthur stood in front of a featureless oak door framed in brick.

Stepping through the threshold Arthur had barely managed to get his hat off his head before one of the patrons glanced his way, spitting disagreeably at his feet. Arthur paused for a moment, debating on weather he should teach this drunkard a lesson, but was drawn from his choice as the voice of a woman rang out through the bar.

"Jessie Miller! What have I told you about spitting at strangers!" Arthur was quick to spot the origin of the voice, a short old woman with a fire behind her eyes, "Your officially cut off!" The old man tried to argue but as he stood from his stool his legs gave out sending him crashing to the ground, asleep. Stepping over the man Arthur took a seat and tapped on the bar saying gruffly.

"Thanks for that doll, I'll have some panther piss." The gruff old woman offered what could only be a warm smile as she filled a glass and slid it his way. As she went to put the bottle away Arthur slapped a crisp ten down on the bar with a smirk saying "Leave the bottle."

Hours passed with as Arthur drank his pain away, until a certain conversation between a father and his son drew his attention.

"But pa! It's good money!" The younger boy protested.

"I said no, and that's final! No son'o mine is gonna work with a women!" the father shouted back angrily.

"Pa! What's wrong with workin with a women?"

"It's not just that son. There's just something not right about that girl. She aint right in the head is all.

Arthur had heard enough at that point. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey beside him Arthur tipped the bottle back downing what was left before making his way over to the pair of bickering family members. It wasn't too hard to get more information and after receiving the phone number from the boy, Arthur made his leave, a nice thrum rushing through his head thanks to the whisky. The next two hours were a blur of faces and voices, swirling around a drink addled brain. Arthur found himself standing in front of a phone in a desolate room, barren of any furniture or signs of anyone having been in that room for years based on the thick layer of dust that covered everything. But the most concerning thing of all was the fact that there were no footprints in the dust leading to the table. The floor was completely undisturbed.

Releasing a breath of air Arthur had been unaware he was holding he reached for the phone saying "I got to find out what's wrong with me."

The Ether

Color Code: FFA500
Theme Song: "My Rifle, My Pony, and Me" By Dean Martin