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Forties.

¤ What Are You?
The Mayor

¤ What defines you?
Hard, I guess. Can’t afford to be much else. I’d like to think I could use my words to resolve situations, though.

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¤ Who are you?
My mom was a good girl. She raised me right. I can’t imagine most people know their fathers these days, and I’m no different. Trying to eek out a living on the edge of insanity wasn’t easy. Wasn’t easy at all. Guess that’s why she died. Left me and my sisters, Lizzy and Ti, by ourselves when I was thirteen or so. So I was the leader of the house after that. Apparently, I didn’t do a very good job.

I guess a stray bullet to the right spot is all it takes. Just some more assholes, you know how it is. Killin’ for survival. Killing for fun. Killing for some made up bullshit. I guess it doesn’t really matter, what’s done is done. They killed my Lizzy. Wasn’t long after that Ti passed on too. They were kids. So was I, I guess. I tried to grow up fast but I didn’t do it fast enough. In a perfect world, I would have found a way to take their place and let them live on. Like a real man. But it didn’t work out like that, I guess. So here I am. Still alive.

When you’ve got people depending on you for that long, you learn a thing or two about leadership. You learn that sometimes the people who rely on you don’t need to like you, but they need to respect you. You learn that fear is a tool, not a weapon. You learn that a little compassion and kindness can go a long way. You learn that no matter fucking what, all of it can be taken from you.

The nobodies who killed my sisters were the first people I ever killed. It was a wonder I made it that long without killing anybody. I guess most people took pity on us enough to leave us alone. I don’t know why they killed Lizzy. Maybe it was for our stuff. Maybe for their made up gods. Maybe for fun. Perhaps they knew they were monsters, perhaps they didn’t. Perhaps they weren’t monsters at all. I’m not sure which one is worse.
After being on my own for a little bit, without my sisters “holding me back”, or more accurately, holding me together, I was free to do as I pleased. My family had always lived on the outskirts of Steelbird Landing. We had decided the big city and all it’s vices weren’t for us. But I had nothing left to lose, so I said fuck it, and started making moves. It took a while. I was say, twenty or so when I first got there. People decided they liked me. Started moving up. Before I knew it, I was mayor. Democratically elected. It helped that the last guy died, I suppose. I’m not sure what they expected from me, but the people seemed to be a little surprised that I have made it as long as I have. It seems, for now, that they are waiting for me to die before they replace me with a new mayor, which is nice. Until then, this place and it’s people are my dysfunctional, hateful, and scared little family. All of us have seen what’s out there. I won’t let it break us.

¤ What do you want?
I want my sisters back. But that ain’t fucking happening. I want something real. Something real to live for. Not some made up shit, or some crazy drug trip, or just for the sake of it. There’s gotta be something real out here. Something good. Steelbird City can be that for me. It can be that for all of us.

¤ What do you believe?
I believe there’s hope. Real hope, not made up bullshit. The whole world isn’t full of murders and rapists waiting for their moment to strike. Fear of authority isn’t the only thing holding Steelbird City together, I know it. I refuse to believe otherwise.

¤ What do you follow?
I follow my gut. Follow your head too much, you end up losing all connection with what really matters. Follow your heart, you might go crazy. But a little of this, a little of that, and following what I think is right has done well so far. Rules and such.

¤ A scarcity embodied:
Forgiveness. Can’t forgive myself for what I let happen to my family. I can’t forgive the rest of the world for what it has become. I cannot forgive those who try and take what we have from us.

¤ Basic Instincts:
Save the kids.

When in doubt, turn left.

Back to the walls, eyes on as many exits as possible.



¤ What is the worst thing you've ever done to stay alive?

Killed people who might not have had it coming. It’s hard to tell. I needed the food, needed the water. They didn’t look like they earned it fair and square, but there was no one around and they weren’t looking at where I was. So I took the shots and took their stuff. One of them was still alive when I got over there, though. Didn’t want to waste the bullet so I let him do his thing. That was in the early days when I was all by myself. I was an angry boy. Don't worry, I've graduated onto "angry man."

¤ What do you most regret doing?

Back in the early days, I saw a group of wanna-be slavers start pickin’ off some random poor saps. Old man, little boy, little girl, some lady. One of those groups of people that make you wonder how they even made it this long. I probably could have taken them. I didn’t. I bet I could have taken them. They weren’t even looking.

¤ Who did you fail to save? What did it cost?

I failed to save my sisters. It cost me everything that mattered. Now, I’ve just got the memory of better times and the hope that maybe they could be achieved again. Maybe not by me, but by someone.

¤ What/Who are you addicted to? What are you willing to do to acquire it?

Addicted to hope, I imagine. Someday, all of this will be over. Maybe in a thousand years from now, all these sick fucks will die off and only the good people will be left. Laughable, I know. But I have to try.

¤ Who's intentions do you question?

My own. I think about my place in this world a lot. To myself, I talk a big game. About the little guys, the farms, peace, good guys and bad guys. But in the end, I’m just another guy in charge, aren’t I? Just another prick bullying people with his lackeys. “Listen to me. I know best. Or else.” Maybe my self-doubt is what keeps me from turning into a monster. But even the monsters half self-doubt. Maybe they used too, and justified their horrible actions, or they all think they have real self doubt and everyone else is the monster. Too many fucking maybes. This circular logic gets me nowhere...but here we are.

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I try not to let that poisonous shit into my head. I’ve seen what it does to people. It’s probably just left over cancer-beams from the pre-apocalypse, giving people diseases and shit. But hey, kind of hard to ignore something when you all you have to do is look up to see it. Sometimes, when I get drunk at night, I find look out the window at the think about all the shit in the world and it gets weird. I haven’t done it much because it freaks me the fuck out. Someone’s in the room, lookin’ at me. They hate me, I can feel it. Just waitin’ for the right moment to sneak up and slit my throat. The longer I look, the stronger the feeling gets, the closer it gets, until I can hear the fuckers footsteps. I look away from the window, and there’s no one there. Maybe someday I’ll pass out while looking out the window and I’ll die in my sleep. That’s why I sleep with the curtains shut.

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¤There’s a rumor going around Steelbird Landing that has you nervous. What is it?
Besides the usual stuff about this and that, what really concerns me is rumors that those monsters from the west are getting closer. No one’s ever brought me proof, and no one I trust has corroborated these claims. I’m not even sure they exist at all. But enough people seem to believe that they do, and if some say they’ve seen them closer to the inland than ever before, that’s enough to make me worry. The last thing we need is nightmare creatures plaguing the outskirts of town.

¤ The governor of another town has been sending men over to intimidate you. What is her name? What does she want from you?

That would be Novella. It’s pretty simple- subordination. Tribute. For us to bend the knee. I imagine she would be perfectly happy if her boys had free reign to collect taxes from our people for living in “their land”. Well, it’s not happening. A full blown war between the two of us, and chances are we’d both collapse into ruin. Hopefully her lust for power, or whatever the fuck she really wants, doesn’t drag us both into Hell.

¤ You’ve got a gang of men and women who help defend Steelbird Landing. Let’s describe them, pick 2 words from a list of words and 1 word from another list.

Organized, obedient, but wanting. I’ve picked good people, good men and women, who aren’t fucking crazy. It’s why I’ve been able to be Mayor for so long. Not only do they stay in line, but they do drills. Lots of drills. They know this city like the back of their hand and get around it in no time, their response time is beyond what I could have ever expected. Unfortunately, when you don’t get your supplies from murder and thievery, guns and experience can be in short supply. Hopefully muscle memory gets them through the tough fights, as it has so far, and their training makes up for their lack of high firepower. They got guns, don't get me wrong, but they ain't some of the crazy shit-eating warriors I've heard of from other parts of the world.

One of the other characters was the second runner up to being mayor, and their voice still carries weight that is threatening to you. Who?

Milk. If she wanted to cause trouble, I'm sure she could. Her and her girls have some sway in the town. She's charming, beautiful, and intelligent. People could potentially give her the clout in politics if she wanted it. Fortunately, she is not interested in these things, at least for now. Hopefully she understands a group like hers could really only exist in a place like Steelbird Landing, where we still believe in basic human rights. She's also a skilled entrepeneur in other things as well. Ours is a mutally benefecial relationship.

One of the other characters is your fervent supporter, and you have turned to them in confidence before. Who?

That would, perhaps ironically enough, be Milk also. We don't talk much, but as two of the most influential people in town it's only right that we talk sometimes.

Like I said, she is not really interested in the politics but she gives me a place to clear my head. Sometimes she provides insights that I might not think of. Though we think about the world in very different ways, (she has too much of an obession with bloodlines), we both agree that children should be protected. You'd probably be surprised how many self-destructive psychos out their either think kids are useless, or only to be used as weapons and tools. Instead of, you know, people. Little people who grow up to be big people, who then get to make their own decisions and decide the future of our species.

Milk can be a little creepy about it sometimes but hey, at least she believes in something good, right? That's all I can really ask of the people here.

S'all any of us can hope to do.

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¤Mama Told Me
youtube.com/watch?v=wkM7uWBjUrI
Will you have whiskey with your water
Or sugar with your tea
What are these crazy questions
That they're asking of me
This is the craziest party
That there ever could be
Oh, don't turn on the light
'Cause I don't want to see
Mama told me not to come
Mama told me not to come
That ain't the way to have fun

¤ Age, approximately.
At least two decades, no more than two and a half.
¤ What Are You?
The Warhand
¤ What defines you?
HARD


¤ Who are you?
Far to the north, there is a city of concrete and bone and blood, where the huddled masses labor with their eyes shielded from the mighty sun-gods, where prisoners are cut open on altars of glass and plastic to win the favor of the thirsting light in the sky. It is called Plaza, and it is where I come from. I was born amidst the masses, a faceless boy with a faceless mother, until a Sun Priest saw potential in me. The Jaguars pulled me away from the woman who birthed me and taught me to kill, to fight with weapons and teeth and nails, and I excelled. I crushed every boy or girl that they pit against me and rose to my rightful place as a warrior of Plaza. I fought beside my brothers in countless battles against the savages and monsters that beset us, for the Sun Priests had spoken with eyes full of smoke and blood that our way was The Way, and that it was the will of the sun that we spread our empire to the corners of the earth.
It was after one great victory, when I was bringing captives to the altar for sacrifice, that I was chosen. The same Sun Priest that had marked me as a warrior, he who was closest to the Sun, anointed me in the blood of my kill and named me Plaza’s first Warhand, he who would march across the world and show the savages what was coming for them, show them with blood and fire that they must throw down their weapons and yield to the empire that would come. And so it was that I began my march south, far from the reach of Plaza, into the world of savages without a Way.
¤ What do you want?
I want to slaughter my foes, to watch the light leave their eyes, to know that they were weak and that my way was The Way and know that they know it too. I want to go home, or to see home come to me, to speak to the Jaguars again, look upon the shrines to the Sun. Beyond that, I wish for there to be A Way, a Best Way, a True Way, to know that I am following it and that I am right, and to carry it across the world.
¤ What do you believe?
I believe that the Sun is the greatest power in the world, and that great power demands great respect. I believe that any Way that can be crushed or defeated is no true Way, and that my Way has never been defeated. Perhaps some day it will be, and it will not have been The Way, but that day has not come.
¤ What do you follow?
I follow my feet. I walk where they take me, and if they can walk no further in a given direction, I will turn. I enact my calling wherever I find myself, become a part of anything I see, yet I am guided by nothing but happenstance, and wandering feet.

¤ A scarcity embodied:
I am the lack of order. In Plaza, there are rules, hierarchies – people toil, the Jaguars fight, the Sun Priests read the omens in the entrails of the dead. But on the battlefield, I am chaos itself – I fight with anything I have to hand, I spill blood and shatter bone and there is no reason in it. I seek to spread order, but wherever I walk, death and madness follow; that, too, is disorder.
¤ Basic Instincts:
I always sleep sitting up, with my back to something, so that I am easier to rouse in case of danger. I always look for something sharp or heavy when I enter a room or a space, something I could use to kill. I always clutch the shard of green glass around my neck if I can feel a fight coming.

¤ What is the worst thing you've ever done to stay alive?
Nothing. Anything I did to stay alive was right, because I am still alive. If I had done anything else, I would be dead, and my Way would have been lost, which would prove it was not The Way.
¤ What do you most regret doing?
I departed without bidding my farewell to the other Jaguars. Some of them were my brothers and sisters for many years, who fought beside me and saved my life many times. I believed then that it was easier, but I know now I was mistaken.
¤ Who owns you? Literally or figuratively.
Automobile, the Sun Priest that named me Warhand.
¤ Who wants you all to themselves?
Advil, a woman from Plaza.
¤ Who or what do you worship?
The Sun, the highest power in the sky, the unassailable.



It happens in the heat of battle – I hear the voices of a hundred screaming warriors, from my time and times long ago, but I know that they are with me, that they cheer for my victory and the victory of our Way. I feel myself grow stronger, see spotted fur ripple across my arms and feel that I could slay a hundred foes. Sometimes I even see them, shadows of warriors fighting by my side, slaying long dead foes and drinking ancient victories.





¤ There is one life you regret taking. Who was it, and how do they haunt you?
I slew a boy, once. He was another one marked by the Priests to become a Jaguar, and we were to fight and see who was stronger. It was not meant to be to the death, but we fought on hard concrete, and in the heat of combat with the blood in my ears I seized his face and bashed the back of his head against the stone until I felt his skull crack. They told me it was well, that his Way must have been weak to fall so easily, but I have never been so sure. Sometimes I will see his face on the face of one of my kills when I go to offer their heart to the sun, as though I have killed him many times.

¤ What mark of your office do you bear? What is its meaning?
As Warhand, I was given a shard of green glass on cord to wear about my neck. It is a piece of the great altar to the sun at Plaza, granted to me that I may use it to cut the hearts from those I slay and offer them to my God in the proper way, no matter how far from home I wander. I know of no other Jaguar who has been granted such an honor.

¤ Who has earned your respect through their defiance? Why did you spare them your violence?

I met a woman on the road after I began to wander. She was not of Plaza, a savage, yet as we spoke I knew there was a strength and courage in her. She did not fear me, not like so many of the weak southerners who would plead and beg when I knocked their weapons from their grasp. She had taken many lives, perhaps more than even I, and was a warrior in her own right. Perhaps it would have been right for me to test my Way against hers, to prove which was The Way and which never had been, but it seemed to me a waste of strong Ways – that our Ways must ultimately contest in the end, but to leave her now would result in her Way overcoming many weaker Ways, and that this would only be a good thing. Perhaps they would condemn me for this decision at Plaza, but it is the one I made.

¤ One of the other characters has fought side-by-side with you in the past. Which one was it?
Sparrow and I fought side-by-side against a group of slavers that came upon me in the jungle - she had been tracking them for claiming a friend of hers, and found them in combat with me. She was not as strong as I, but quick and clever. She would make a good Jaguar - perhaps in time, she will.

¤ One of the other characters has had violent run-ins with other scouts from Plaza. Who?
Avenue. One of the reasons I came to this region was to track down the remains of a party of Jaguars who went missing here some years ago. I have been led to believe that the cult of savages led by Avenue are responsible. I do not seek vengeance - if Avenue's Way was stronger than the Jaguars, then it is well that they were slain. But I will seek them out, to test their Way for myself.



¤ Ain’t no Devil – Andrea Wasse

Something's coming. Something's on its way.

¤ APPROXIMATE AGE:
Mid to late twenties.

¤ WHAT ARE YOU?
The Breeder. I own a slew of women, who give us our children, who give us OUR future. I've given men plenty of warriors, for a generous price. If you have the right pay, I will give from my loins a strong son to carry your name for now and ever more. Tonics, medicines, and more I sell them from my wares to keep you strong, keep you sane.

¤ WHAT DEFINES YOU?
Hot.



¤ WHO ARE YOU?
My mother Varnish and my father Aerosol were strong, clever, unwavering. I too share these traits. My mother raised many children those she carried herself and those who shared not but one drop of blood with her. I followed her footsteps and expanded on her dreams. I took useless women, homeless women, women with no future and gave them EVERYTHING. I gave them a purpose. I gave them the power to give life, and to take life as they pleased. I gave them FREEDOM. I too have given three men their sons, two in which have died with honor aside their father in battle and one who cannot look me in the eye for I am his MOTHER but I am not his mother. I love him, my sweet Grocery for he and his father knows not what I sacrificed. I am hated by some, but none will speak it to my face.

¤ WHAT DO YOU WANT?
I look for peace within myself. I do oh so much for every one and get only trinkets and treasures in return. I loved to be adorned with the beautiful but it only means so much for so long. The birds on the beach they stare, they gawk and squawk at the sparkle but they do not keep me warm at night. They keep my stomach full They do not stimulate my brain, my heart, my deepest crevice of my soul. I am meant for more. I am needed for more.

¤ WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE?
The future is ours, and only we can build it. We are only growing smarter, faster, stronger as each generation comes and goes. Our ancestors were only just the start of something, but we and our children and our children's children will be even better yet. I've watched them grow, I've watched them learn they are adapting and surviving so much better than we. Their minds are pure and unaltered by substances. Do they not know of their own strength?

¤ WHAT DO YOU FOLLOW?
My hips, I follow them as they defy the odds splitting in half to deliver warriors. They then serve as a tool as many children are carried across the earth, fed from my own body and taught the lay of the land and the way of people through innocent eyes. They then are used for persuasion; to start the process from where once it came, a ritual. An exchange. They bring me home.

¤ A SCARCITY EMBODIED:
Love is something I have not yet seen in my life. That is a lie. I have loved many in one sense of the word, but not in the one I plead for. I love all children, as my mother did- I will take them all in if they have a chance to thrive. Even the ones who do not make it are used for their parts to bring strength to others. I loved my parents, my siblings, I love the women who I have saved and live with me. I love the thrill of a night, and the pain of child birth, but one's heart does not feel full from these.

¤ BASIC INSTINCTS:
One must always check for any wound, rash, or the oddities before allowing to lay with a free woman, they are not for just fun they are not just for release. The price of my child is not just worth it's weight in treasure. Do not cut your hair, it is your link to the spiritual realm.


¤ WHAT DO YOU MOST REGRET DOING?
I lied and told a man his child had died in child birth. I knew that he would not want a daughter, he had said that he would use her the unthinkable rather than treat her well. I hid her for three years, until he found out of my tangled web. He murdered his daughter Panasonic, his own flesh and blood in front of my eyes. The women and I sobbed for hours until we could not cry any more. Twix did not work for weeks. The men took Pan's body and I did not dare ask what came of her. They would not let me recycle her.

¤ WHO DO YOU OWE?
Pepsi, he saved my life once and I have yet to repay him.

¤ WHO MAKES YOU FEEL SAD THE MOMENT YOU LAY EYES ON THEM?
Avenue. He speaks of the dead and the dead speak to him. I fear what they've whispered, screamed, and chanted to him is making his insides dark. He is a good man deep down, but he frightens me. For what I am not afraid of, I am grieved by.

¤ WHO WANTS YOU ALL TO THEMSELVES?
Deodorant will not keep his hands off of me, I told him I do not want a man who takes young boys as slaves. He disgusts me. I will never bare his child, and I do not allow him in my women's homes. I plead that his name will die with him, I beg that he will never find happiness or joy.

¤ WHAT DO YOU WORSHIP?
I worship the human body, for it is above all. It works the way it is meant to work and when it doesn't it still provides nutrients and life to other bodies. Do you ever wonder why your body parts fold into one another so perfectly? There is a reason for this, and it should be celebrated.



When a warrior is born from my body, I have moments where my heart beats rapidly and my legs can not function as they lose their strength. My breath becomes shallow and the millions of colors that exist in our world spin around my eyes and through my ears like a banshee of the night. So much noise, it's unbearable and no amount of pain can cover the sound of the screaming. I have only experienced this three times, and though it is frightening it brings me peace when the sound of screaming is replaced with a joyful lone cry.



_{The Breeder, huh? I've heard of you. Never set foot in your establishment though. Fuck no. But I'm no moral authority to judge you, anyway.}

¤ ONE OF YOUR WOMEN HAS GONE MISSING. WHICH ONE? WHO DO YOU THINK TOOK HER?
Twix, without a doubt. She is my most troubled out of the twenty under my wing, her name is always on the mouth of many. She has been involved in so much altercations that I have taken to threats and punishments to keep her in line. She does not follow suit. I can not leave her though, or she will be killed. I'm the only thing standing between her and her death. All the other women agree.

¤ WHO'S YOUR BEST CUSTOMER? WHAT MAKES THEM STAND OUT?
Sparrow. She comes not for a child, but for companionship. Her pleasure comes not from the flesh. She brings treasures for me without nothing in return, I offer her whatever I can in return, but mostly a ear to listen and a shoulder to rest on. I love her as a sister.

¤ WHO'S BABIES DO YOU WANT TO HAVE?
Alcohol. I am not one to be swayed by power, but it doesn't hurt anything. He runs this town fairly and has treated me and mine well. He cares about the children as I do, and I think he believes that the future is important to us here. Our seed could continue this legacy.

¤ WHO IS YOUR FORMER LOVER? WHAT CREATED THE DISTANCE BETWEEN YOU?
Avenue. I speak only fondly of Avenue, for he did NOTHING wrong to me, though our paths unraveled before us. Our love was kind and sweet. I carried his son for many months, and fed from from my body. My baby was strong, loving and true. I did not leave my room for several moons when the two left together in the night.

¤ SOMEONE KNOWS WHERE TWIX RAN OFF TO AND REFUSES TO TELL YOU. WHO? WHY?
Hemlock. I do not know why she LIES to my face. As another woman are we not cut from the same cloth? Would I not treat her like my sister if she came to me freezing, poor, and starving? Hm? I learned of Twix's condition not too long after this confrontation. Perhaps Hemlock is frightened of me, but she does not realize yet that together we could do so much more for our community.



¤ THEME SONG
XXYYXX - ABOUT YOU
_{In the sea of night where my soul is real
Broken visions let the darkness heal
And the dream of life will surely reside
I can hear your heart, I can touch your skin
Feel the whole world breathing from within
I can live in here forever inside.}

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What Do You See?

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¤ Age, approximately.
Late twenties.

¤ What Are You?
The Stalker

I am a hunter by trade. I wait silently amongst the trees for my prey to appear and strike without hesitation. Most believe that jaguars are the apex predator of the jungle. I am what the jaguars fear.

¤ What defines you?
COOL: Sparrow is icy cold under pressure and hard to rile. You are the very definition of a smooth operator. But of course, cold means distant…

Let Go of Your Past

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¤ Who are you?
I am Sparrow. I go where others can’t. I was born in the chaotic streets of the city once known as Rio, used by the people around me to scavenge in places few others could fit. I was born in blood, the offspring of bandits fighting over anything and everything that remained. I was born in violence, punished for every failure. I was born, but I did not live. I was taught that nothing mattered but doing anything to get food. They spoke nothing of beliefs, the Gods did not want them in their mind.

They called themselves the Forsaken. They claimed that they had been abandoned by the Gods and that their ruthlessness and merciless killings were a result of it. I was taught no differently. I learned to kill without hesitation and without remorse. My elders always said I was good for nothing, that I was a runt among the children and that I would never be as strong. I was determined to prove them wrong. If they couldn’t see that I was strong, I was going to show them. In the Forsaken, you were judged for how good you were at scavenging and killing. So I scavenged and killed.

I was never taught regret. It was never an emotion I was familiar with. That has not changed throughout my entire life. That same night, I killed Leader’s favourite pupil. Slaughtered him in his sleep. I watched the light fade from his eyes as he awoke to his demise. I would not be cast aside any longer. Now that the competition was gone, I would no longer live in his shadow.

But instead of becoming Leader’s favourite, I became the most hated. I was beat until I bled, whipped until I could no longer stand. They cast me out into the wild with nothing but my clothes. Since then, I’ve lived off of the wilderness and the bounties it offered. I became one with the jungle and trusted nothing and no one but myself. I know the jungle better than anything and it now fuels my livelihood.

¤ What do you want?
I want to prove Leader wrong and be the most feared predator of my enemies. I live to sustain myself and I serve no one else. I live to show myself that we don’t need to scavenge to survive.

¤ What do you believe?
I believe that the two most powerful things in the world are patience and time. Nature’s pace is the only one I follow, patience will bring you sustenance if you give it the time it needs. Patience may be bitter, but the fruit it bears is sweet.

¤ What do you follow?
I follow the trails of the animals and the hints they leave behind with my eyes. When no trail is evident, I follow the sounds of their calls with my ears and their patterns of movement with my memory. If nothing else, I follow my need for self-redemption.

¤ A scarcity embodied:
I embody the scarcity of freedom. I am trapped inside my own head, fighting myself to earn the validation of a leader I despise. It is evident to those around me. A few have noted that I punish myself for simple mistakes, mistakes that others may see as nothing.

¤ Basic Instincts:
The pair of knives sheathed under my left arm never leave me, not even while I sleep. Without even thinking, I will landmark escape routes around me. In a conflict, I always keep my distance and let the arrows speak for me.

Spill Your Guts

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¤ What is the worst thing you've ever done to stay alive?
The dead month... There was someone that had followed me from Rio, someone that I eventually considered a friend. For weeks we searched the jungles, waiting to find something to eat. We waited in the trees just like I’d done for years before. And nothing ever crossed our trails. It had been weeks of living off of leaves, mushrooms and the few berries we could find. My hunger got the best of me. As I waited in a tree above, I told him to go down to look for a trail and as he examined the jungle floor I put an arrow in the back of his head. He sustained me for another two weeks until I finally came upon a deer. The memory still haunts me to this day, as does the taste…

¤ Who do you owe?
I owe Pepsi for teaching me of The Ways. I give him a free pound or two of meat from each hunt so that he may continue to enlighten me.

¤ Who owns you? Literally or figuratively.
The jungle owns me, nature owns me. She holds my life in her hands every single day. My life depends on her bounty just as it depends on the tools I use to collect it. I am her apex predator, and she is my controller. She decides if I feed or if I starve, if I climb or if I fall.

¤ Who's intentions do you question?
I question everyone’s intentions. It’s the reason I still live and breathe to this day. Trust no one, question everything and never turn your back to a man with a weapon regardless of standing.

¤ Who or what do you worship?
I worship the Earthen Mother, nature herself. I pray to her each morning before the hunt so that I may live to see another day, so that I may nourish myself in her bountiful jungles and find my way out of them unharmed.

Hear the Whispers...

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It comes to me while I pray. I close my eyes and as I speak, I begin to notice more and more around me. The silence, the smell of the jungle, the gentle touch of the wind and the humidity in the air, it all comes to me. Around me, there is an endless forest filled with life. I see a figure in the distance, just a silhouette in the fog. The Earthen Mother. She paces towards me, her featureless form made merely of mist. As she does, I realise I can no longer move. My eyes are fixated on her as the fog closes in around both of us. It is when she touches me that she begins to speak. A whisper, nothing more. A single word. Normally a location or direction.

Sometimes she remains silent and simply shows me. A gust of wind showing me the way, perhaps a trail invisible to me before. Always guidance, never judgement. The mother is fair in that way. She guides my step and allows me life.

Own What You've Become

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Ah, Sparrow. Maybe they should have named you Falcon or Hawk... Their loss. Let's see what scars run deepest…

¤ You have seen one of the monsters from the western rift. What did it look like? What did it say to you?

It was nearly ten feet tall. Black as the night sky with yellow eyes that pierced through the darkness like arrows. I tried to take it down but my arrows bounced right off of it’s scaly hide. When it saw me, it turned to me and made a sound that almost resembled a laugh. When it spoke it’s four words, it sent a sickening feeling through me, “Your mother will suffer..”

¤ There is someone who wishes you join you on your hunts. Who is it? Why do you keep refusing?

Spade has been eyeing my place since I first started. He’s asked me countless times to show him how to hunt and to allow him to hunt on my grounds. I don’t trust him. He doesn’t take to the ways of the Earthen Mother, nor do I believe that he truly wants to be my partner in this. When we first met I caught him trying to steal a cut of meat from me. I won’t let him on the Mother’s hunting grounds.

¤ Who is your best customer? Your worst? Who wants to take control of your business? Names only, please.
The best? Pepsi. The worst? Shank.

Wants to take control? Spade.

Relationships Can Prove Fatal...

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¤You had some kind of relationship with one of the other characters that is no longer the case. Who? And what was the relationship?

Avenue. We used to speak. He was the father of Milk's child. I respected him once, when he first introduced me to Hope. Avenue made me believe there was more than just violence, slaughter and mayhem in the world. And then he destroyed that image. That coward ran off with my sister's child in the night. I couldn't run fast enough to catch him and I will forever feel guilt for that. There is nothing between us now. He is a coward, nothing will change that in my eyes.

¤There is one character who you think could hear the voice of the Earth Mother if you could only teach them. Who?

Hemlock. I watch her harvest the plants without regard or care for the one who makes them. I watch her from the trees while she remains unaware. It would be dishonest of me to say that I haven't thought about ending her life while she defiled the Mother's grounds. I had gotten as far as drawing my bow before the Mother corrected my way. She spoke to me that night in my prayers, the same night I caught a glimpse of Hemlock spying on me through the trees. The Mother had shown me a sign. Hemlock can be taught of the ways of the Earth Mother.

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¤ 𝑨𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑨𝒈𝒆
Roughly around 21-23.

¤ 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑨𝒓𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖?
The Unhinged : The fumes, The Maelstrom, The loss of those loved. They all play a part in who I am today. They all play a part in why my mind is so fragile, a crack away from shattering. I concoct toxins, I listen to the dead who guide my hands, who guide my mind.

¤ 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑫𝒆𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒀𝒐𝒖?
WEIRD - holy shit you're weird. The spirits speak to you, my friend, and often. You've got friends on the other side. But of course, it's hard to be sane when the dead whisper so loud...
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¤ 𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝑨𝒓𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖?
I am Hemlock, my ma and pa are Scotch and Poinsettia. My family is brief, me being an only child and my parents the same. As an only child, I was cared for quite well, I was my parents main focus and learned a lot from their lessons. My ma was an expert herbalist, something I now pride myself in as well. I acquired many recipes from my ma and my pa was an excellent hunter. While hunting has never been my strongest suit, I am far from "bad" at it and can get what I require to survive. Very early into my life, as I was just beginning to grow into an adult, my ma and pa vanished. Sometimes I ponder if they left because they knew they were withering and trailed off to pass away in peace. Part of me fears the worst, I searched for many days but found no answers in my vain pursuit. I mourn the loss of them, but do not allow their absence to hinder my ability to survive. These days I spend my time secluded mostly, I enjoy collecting herbs and poisonous plants, often testing them on animals or myself to see their strength. My body has grown nearly immune to a few of the poisonous plants I handle, introducing their toxins regularly to build my resistance. As a fighter I am agile, but no where near an expert in battle. I tend to use my body and appearance to get out of stickier situations, favoring other options rather than an altercation.

¤ 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑫𝒐 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑾𝒂𝒏𝒕?
I seek many answers, I seek more information, I yearn more knowledge and eagerly listen to the whispers. I want to please The Maelstrom.

¤ 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑫𝒐 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆?
I believe knowledge is the greatest power one can have. Anyone can build muscle and strength, anyone can kill a foe with mere violence. But it takes a wise, clever mind, to kill a foe silently, without suspicion arising. I believe trust is a fragile thing, something rare and almost unheard of. You do not trust in this world.

¤ 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑫𝒐 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑭𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘?
I follow my head, my head is wise, wiser than my heart, wiser than my feet and hands who only work with memory. My mind is strong, my mind is in charge and will lead me down the greatest path.

¤ 𝑨 𝑺𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝑬𝒎𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒅:
I embody the lack of sanity, my sleep is troubled, I pace regularly and speak to myself often. The poisons have gotten to my head and it is evident through the ramblings that leave my mouth. My clear moments are very abruptly interrupted by a clouded, thickly veiled fog of confusion. My mind remains smart, sharp, but the ticking of my internal clock is off. I work best in silence, too much noise and commotion can set me off into a manic episode.

¤ 𝑩𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒄 𝑰𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒕𝒔:
I always have numerous small vile's filled with my toxins all concealed somewhere on my person. I always choose diversion over altercation, if I can talk or lustfully persuade my way out of danger, I will. I often count to myself during tense moments, it calms my restless nerves for the moment. I always smell of lavender or citrus, I work with lavender quite often and orange peels make a good cleanser, my body must be pure for The Maelstrom.
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¤ 𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝑶𝒓 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑫𝒐 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑?
I worship The Maelstrom, I worship the whispers that slink their way through the night, luring those who listen in. I worship the unseen, the things people say to exist. Those are the most powerful beings, those that can instill fear without ever showing their face. The nightmares that wrack your body as you sleep.

¤ 𝑾𝒉𝒐'𝒔 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝑫𝒐 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑸𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏?
I question the intentions of anyone who seeks love in a world such as this one. The intent to care for another is so foreign to me since my ma and pa's disappearance and the demise of River. I grew to understand that love is a feeling that should be suppressed, it only gets in the way of what truly matters in this world. If your intent is solely based upon your feelings, you are unwise.

¤ 𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝑫𝒊𝒅 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑭𝒂𝒊𝒍 𝑻𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒗𝒆? 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑫𝒊𝒅 𝑰𝒕 𝑪𝒐𝒔𝒕?
Besides my ma and pa, I failed to save a man I thought I loved. I don't mention him nor acknowledge he ever existed, well.. except for now. His name was River, his soul was wild, his name fit him like a glove. One night, I broke, a manic episode ensuing. River was a victim to my wrath, I poisoned the only thing that kept me grounded, I embraced him in my arms as he struggled and writhed against the toxins that I had created, that I had injected into his body.

¤ 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕/𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝑨𝒓𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑨𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑻𝒐? 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑨𝒓𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑻𝒐 𝑫𝒐 𝑻𝒐 𝑨𝒄𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝑰𝒕?
I am addicted to furthering my knowledge, I am addicted to my toxins. Their abilities are endless, they kill, they inflict pain, they are my creations. I am willing to do whatever it takes to get what I need in life. Any distractions, any barriers, any blockades, will be immediately torn down if they prove to be a threat.

¤ 𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝑾𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝑻𝒐 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔?
River wanted me all to himself, he adored my presence and basked in my knowledge. We thrived together, spent everyday together, he kept me secured to the ground when my head fought to wander. He wanted me to himself, he wanted to take me from my herbs, my intelligence and learning. The Maelstrom wanted me more, the Maelstrom got jealous..

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¤ 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒗𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒉 𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒑𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝑽𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝑮𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆. 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓?
𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒏?
Ah, yes.. The Violation Glove. Before I was led to it, I had seen it numerous times during my herb induced trips. The Maelstrom led me to its location, it is unlike anything I have ever seen before. The Maelstrom says, with practice and great faith in The Maelstrom, the glove can be used to probe deep into ones head. Violate, ones darkest, most intimate thoughts. The Maelstrom has mentioned that Alcohol is the intended victim of the gloves abilities. The Maelstrom wants more knowledge.

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¤ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑾𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒔𝒕?
The darkest heart? That's easy.. Pepsi. The Maelstrom has whispered about Pepsi and his dark heart, he seeks violence, bloodshed. The Maelstrom believes his heart it tainted, muddled and stained with a deep darkness.
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¤ 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒂 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒔𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑴𝒂𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒎. 𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍?
It was a horrific sight, the screams were enough to curdle blood. Blood and gore was vibrantly tossed about, painting every surface, splattering across my ash clad skin. I searched for peace, to make sense of it all and in the middle of the mess was Avenue. He stood tall, unwavering, his expression barren of emotion.

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¤ 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒅𝒈𝒆, 𝒘𝒉𝒐?
I once followed the whispers and they led me to a woman, her skin was milky, its purity tangling and dancing with vibrant depictions of color. Her hair captured the essence of fire perfectly, contrasting against pale skin, kissing at the warmth of her cheeks as she slept. She is The Breeder, she is Milk. ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍
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¤ 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒕? 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕?
Sparrow, I have seen her slinking about every once in a blue moon, slipping in to visit Milk, watching as the two embraced. The love they share is tender, something almost unreal in a world such as the one we live in. The most intimate moment I witnessed however, was when Sparrow was in prayer. She appeared so childlike, almost innocent knelt there speaking out into the nothingness, so at peace. My presence did not go unnoticed, her eyes lit up with life at the sound of a snapping twig, spotting my figure as I slipped away into the shadows. ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍
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¤ Age, approximately.
Mid twenties/Early thirties

¤ What Are You?
The Prophet

¤ What defines you?
Weird



¤ Who are you?
I am Avenue. I was born to Honey and Galaxy. When I was young they were killed by a man with two heads. He took me and taught me the way of his god, Tall Grey, who wasn't one god, but the workings of a thousand tiny motes. "Tall Grey was only tall because it stood on the shoulders of those around it. As Tall Grey does, we must do. We must stand among our own, each in our role, each aiding the other, in sacrifice, in mating, in defense, in service.", he taught me. He taught me that Tall Grey was different from other gods: Tall Grey wants to see its servants be better. Tall Grey wants what is its. I hate this man and his god. I want to torture this man for my own god, Hope, whom I discovered when I saw the dead for the first time.
Hope always speaks in a different voice, but you can know it's her because of the warm feeling you wear when she's around. She teaches me that suffering and pain bring enlightenment and strength, if you unflinchingly endure. She teaches me that others are stronger in the now, but they flinch when they suffer, so they will be weak.

I am Avenue. I can feel my mind slipping. I suffer because of this. With the help of Hope, I will endure. The dead claw at my mind as a reminder to persist. The pain is sharp and keening and constant, but the pain is not the end. The pain will never let me forget Hope.
I am Avenue. I have endured a great deal. I have been granted strength. I can cause pain without touching people. This helps me a great deal when I must spread the word of Hope. I simply show their mind the will of Hope, and the weak will writhe. The strong will endure. The strong will always endure.
I am Avenue. I never learned to fight. Fighting is irrelevant when compared to Hope's might. True strength is within, not without. True strength is being strong enough to have others fight for you, and become stronger through their wounds. True strength is cutting off your own finger without hesitating or flinching when Hope asks.
I am Avenue. I tear holes in flesh; peel skin; puncture eyes; fillet fingers. I am a master of growth. Through these methods, I help others to recognise strength. When they refuse my blessings, they only receive more. Refusing such gifts is cowardly and weak. Weakness must be eradicated.

¤ What do you want?
I see the dead, and they tell me things about people. One dead person tole me of "Hope", their god. This god was new to me. I live to spread the word of Hope.
My parents were killed by a Two Headed Man when I was young. He took me for his own. I live to see this man suffer.

¤ What do you believe?
I believe that enduring pain births strength.

¤ What do you follow?
I follow the warm skin that Hope gives me. When that is denied, I follow my hate for the two headed man.

¤ A scarcity embodied:
I am the lack of rest. My eyes are bloodshot, with bags darkening the sockets. I never truly sleep. Tension is as natural to me as eating.

¤ Basic Instincts:
I instinctively carry my Flesh Eaters wherever I go, Hope likes them. I instinctively cause myself to suffer when I feel a challenge is coming, for the extra strength it gives me. I instinctively drop and hide when I feel threatened: I was not made to fight.



¤ What is the worst thing you've ever done to stay alive?
I tied a man who tried to steal my food down to a large rock. I took my Flesh Eaters, and I pulled flesh out to make holes. I made him sing to Hope as I poured hot oil in his new holes. He was flinching, so he couldn't get stronger from this pain, so I didn't kill him.

¤ What do you most regret doing?
I once knew a small boy. He followed me around for protection, because I was the only person that didn't hurt him. I saw me when I was his age in him. His name was Gyprock. I regret forcing him go into the world alone when he became a burden.

¤ Who did you fail to save? What did it cost?
I failed to save my parents. It cost their lives, and caused me to be kidnapped by the Two Headed Man. Now look at me, and tell me it cost nothing.

¤ Who makes you feel (angry/sad/murderous/lustful)the moment you lay eyes on them? Why?
The Two Headed Man. When I saw him every day, the only thing stopping me from carving him up then and there were his evil practices, and the mental hold they allowed him to have on me. He will suffer worse than death when I find him.

¤ What/Who are you addicted to? What are you willing to do to acquire it?
I am addicted to the warm, safe feeling Hope gives me when I spread her will. Her will is strength, her method is pain, her agent is Avenue. I will spread her strength to all I can.





It is a rush. I start by doing something repetitively, to the point of obsession. Something like pulling on my hair or shaking my head. After long enough, I feel like I'm falling. An intense, constant, delicate rush. I hear voices in the wind, whispering their tiny hates at me. Telling me about people. That's what they like most: secrets. They love telling me what people do when nobody is watching.
It gets worse the more I fall. They tell me things I could only wish are lies. Sometimes they are. They never lie earlier in the fall. When I fall for long enough, I can see things, too. If I push past the lies and visions, I can talk to Hope directly. Talking with Hope is pure happiness. Nothing else matters. All you want is to see others grow stronger by her benevolent hand.





¤ Who among your faithful wants you to be more than you already are? How do they push you?
Her name is Key. She is a bitch and a half. She wants me to bring Hope to this world, so she can speak to everyone and spread her own word.

¤ Someone in Steelbird Landing is an unusually vocal non-believer. Who is it? What do you do about them?
Asphalt. That rat has escaped us for weeks. When we get our hands on him, he will suffer Hope's will and join us in our strength, or he will flinch.

¤ The dead whisper dark secrets to you. Who's secrets are the most dangerous to you?
Paper.

¤ One of the other characters (knowingly or not) defiled a sacred rite of Hope. Who? What was the rite for?
That would be the dog Mayor of Steelbird Landing. Our Rite of Likeness, where we make many different statues and hide them around populated areas. Those that find them are slowly drawn to us through a series of events designed by Hope when the statues are birthed. He took these holy figures down, preventing people from finding them and growing our influence.

¤ One of the other characters quiets the voices in your head when they are near. Who?
Hemlock, the plant lady we get our drugs off. She is a strange one. Some part of me is unsure whether or not to trust her. The other part wants to know why it is that she quiets the voices.



¤ Lunacy, by SWANS

LUNACY
LUNACY
LUNACY
LUNACY
LUNACY
LUNACY

¤ Age, approximately.
Approximately late twenties

¤ What Are You?
The Ghost - Untraceable, silent, a person who is proficient in the arts of stealth and remaining unseen to the standard person. Sometimes, hiding in plain sight.

¤ What defines you?
SHARP - you're a clever one. You might even know how to read. You probably build shit and solve problems with your wits and quick thinking. But brawn is useful...



¤ Who are you?
Tell us a little bit about your history. What are you known for? Who loves you? Who hates you? What spins your wheels?

Asphalt is the name of a man who is known for being able to suddenly become something of a ghost, hell some people even call him that with how often this man disappears from a society. He leaves no trace, no tracks for people to follow. It was with this ability that got him in a spot of trouble, stealing from the wrong people to feed himself as a child made him a target, but not one of revenge, but more of a slave. He can not remember the name of his parents after he was abducted, nor does he care to remember. A slaver group by the name of the ‘Slaving Boys’ took him and made him into more than a petty thief, molding him into someone who can steal, kidnap, or even kill without a trace.

Asphalt is the name of a man who has no face, a man who has no connections other than the ‘Slaving Boys’, the name of a man you need if you have someone you want to never be seen again. Asphalt is a man of luxury, a man of class, a man of sophistication in a world of barbarism. It’s what he has known, it’s what he was rewarded for years of skill and loyalty to those who abducted him.

And boy, is that Stockholm Syndrome something fierce, as Asphalt is a man who does not know that he is a slave.

¤ What do you want?
Asphalt is a man who wants to live the most lavish life possible. He wants only the best of anything.

¤ What do you believe?
Asphalt is a man who believes that the only thing to believe in is the skill of a person is what they are worth. That and their wealth. Ah who cares what you believe in when you can be bought to believe something for a time.

¤ What do you follow?
Asphalt is a man who follows his lust for the extravagant, whether it be women or objects.

¤ A scarcity embodied:
Asphalt is the lack of wealth, a man who only owns those things that make him wealthier than even the governors of towns.

¤ Basic Instincts:
Asphalt is a man who follows the instinct of staying out of sight when possible, no one must know who he is. Asphalt is a man who instinctively keeps his mask on him, no one must know who he is. Asphalt is a worker who must carry out the jobs of the boss, only he may know who he is.



¤ What do you most regret doing?
Asphalt regrets allowing a target to get away when he stopped to question his morality, he will never allow himself to be stopped while on the job again. He cannot waste the chance to get rewards from the boss ever again.

¤ Who do you owe?
He owes his life to the Boss, the man who brought him into his lavish lifestyle and rewards plentiful. He owes everything to the man who took him from a boring life and made Asphalt into something. Asphalt is a man who must remain loyal to the Boss.

¤ Who owns you? Literally or figuratively.
The Boss owns Asphalt, he owns the Ghost and is the one who sends him on the jobs. If Asphalt does good then he gets rewarded, but if he does anything less than perfect, then a well-deserved punishment is in order.

¤ Who's intentions do you question?
Sometimes, Asphalt questions the intentions of the guards that surround the Boss, he knows not if they are truly friends of the boss or Asphalt. Sometimes, he thinks he hears them talk about taking over the ‘Slaving Boys’ for themselves.

¤ Who wants you all to themselves?
There are two people who want Asphalt to themselves, the Boss for obvious reasons, and another slaving boss known as Wolf, boss of the Termite Borrowers, she may look fine but Asphalt must fulfill the duty he owes to the Boss. Though that does not stop her from trying to get him, and he certainly appreciates the effort.




It is like walking through a mist, a heavy fog with the anticipation of running into a hungry beast. There is no direction, no choice of where to go, there are eyes into that mist that watch Asphalt and they know what he looks like, the know his face. He feels scared, he feels powerless, he feels as if he does not know without the guidance of the boss. Luckily, this only happens when he falls asleep sometimes.





Ghost, ghost, ghost. So clever. So good at hiding.
But you can't hide from the Maelstrom. Or Fate. And least of all...
Yourself.

¤ 1. Someone tried to save you once. Who was it? Why does it haunt you?
There was once a man by the name of Trimmed Beard who tried to “free” Asphalt when he was younger by buying him off the slavers. He doesn’t know why but the fact that someone would try to separate him from the Boss still haunts him to this day.

¤ 2. The Boss trusts you greatly, but what trust does he withold from you? Why do you crave it?
The Boss does not trust Asphalt to operate on his own, which in some capacity is true. But Asphalt wants that freedom so that he may know what it’s like to not depend on someone, then he can really live that lavish lifestyle.

¤ 3. There is one person besides The Boss who you care about, whether you are consciously aware or not. What is their name, who are they to you?
Wolf is possibly one of the only other people that Asphalt cares about, though he does not consciously know it, there is a certain love he has for that woman. It could be the power she has, being a boss of another slaver group, he would do anything for her if he was not obligated to see her as a rival to the Boss.



Nick Nolan - My Wicked Bones

“Well, if a ropes my ending
Rottin' in a cell
One thing I'll make for sure
I'll see you in hell“