Callthecops

The Dust

Holy typos! I just reread my post and I don't know how you all restrained yourselves from tracking me down, busting into my dorm room, and beating the crap out of me... I'll try to fix those up for whatever good that does. And like Aeon, next time I post I hopefully won't be coughing up a lung. Also, though I'm certain there are plenty of people who would (rightfully) blame the Motum Diversum for the attack on the Forsaken caravan, the operation was not officially sanctioned, and was carried out with bandit gear. So I don't think it would necessarily be overly common knowledge/undisputed fact that they pulled the attack. Especially in light of the fact that the story would have likely been swept together with the small slave uprising that occurred in the area in the following months, leading most to believe that the slaves were somehow responsible for the attack.

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I've thrown in a little addendum to my backstory detailing Bento's wanderings and arrival in Russell City after his escape from slavery six months ago.

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And thank you good sir.

@Prophecy

I aim to please. Everyone's writing has been great so far, and I've enjoyed reading all your posts! Looking forward to working with you all. Speaking of which, if anyone wants to collab, I'm going to be around tonight and probably during the day tomorrow.

The Dust

Name: Bento Quine, The Windcaller
Age: 34
Appeared Age: Mid Thirties
Height: 6’4
Weight: 198
Eye Color: Steel
Hair Color: Dark Grey
Physical Identifiers:

• Strange wisps flow in seemingly random patterns within his eyes.
• Bento has a multitude of deep, nasty scars latticing his back from lashes he has received.

Background

Residence: N/A
Profession: Slave
Formerly: Motum Diversum Recon/Scout Special Operative)
Aligned Faction: The Forsaken Order (Slave)
Formerly: Motum Diversum
Relatives: Elias Quine (Father)
Backstory:
Born in Russel City to a leatherworker, Bento was raised primarily by his father, his mother having died of sickness only a few years after he was born. Descended from the protected son of philosopher Willard Quine, an important philosopher and analyst himself, the Quines have passed down the works and teachings of the greatest philosophers of the old world. An exceptionally bright student, he earned his father’s pride, even when he decided to pursue a career in the military, rather than take up the family trade, and the pursuit of deeper study.

At first he was assigned as a caravan guard, like most members of the Diversum’s armed forces, however over time it became clear that his talents were being wasted. By the time he was 24 he had worked his way into an elite section of the military, focused on gathering intelligence on the Forsaken Order. At the age of 27, he was sent to the mountains above Ironhold, deep within enemy territory, to watch troop movements in and out of the city. While there, he found himself getting sick with what appeared to be a pretty standard cold. After a midnight foray into a nearby mining camp to steal some supplies and any intel he could find, Bento was on the face of a cliff, free-climbing back up to his campsite when his fatigue got the best of him. He knew he shouldn’t have been running ops while under the weather, but he had needed those supplies. In a particularly difficult section of the climb, he missed a hold and found himself plummeting to what surely should have been his death. Near the bottom of his fall he threw his hands toward the ground in some irrational attempt to push the ground away. To his surprise the winds suddenly started to pick up with such force that they began to slow his fall.

When he woke up, Bento had been stripped of his gear and imprisoned underground. After almost a year of torture, he was eventually sent to the mines to work long, hard hours. They slept in the mines, they ate in the mines, and they would most likely die in the mines. In fact, if it were not for the selflessness of a single man, Bento would never have been given the chance to see the sun again. After roughly 2 years of service, now 30 years old, Bento and his work group were caught in a terrible accident where he was pinned and left to die. Saved by an older man, by the name of Promos, the two became close friends. After learning of the older man’s son and family back home in Harlem, Bento swore to repay the old man for his kindness by returning him to his family. After 4 more years in the mines the two of them were selected to accompany a large trade caravan travelling through Motum Diversum and Aqueous territory.

-Contents of First Post-

After his escape from slavery, Bento began amassing a small fortune in the arms sales. As it turns out, building a small army of former slaves and hitting the Forsaken’s trade routes could be a pretty good gig for a while. Things got a little too hot once the Iron King started sending squadrons of Soulless after them, but a few months of bloody revenge could go a long way. After that whole ordeal, the Major rented out a small apartment up in Gate’s Pass where he worked part time as a bouncer at one of the various brothels in town. The pay was alright, and the ‘bonuses’ were marginally better, but the real benefit was the ability to make a few trips up to see his father in Aspin after learning he had defected there to study physics.

After 2 months Bento decided, for a variety of reasons, that leaving Aqueous territory would be a smart choice. Unwilling to subject his father to the dangers of harboring an Immortal, the Windcaller decided returning to Russell City would be his best bet. Upon entering the city, he managed to broker an agreement with Colonel Thorne, the terms of which amounted to little more than that if Bento kept his head down the Diversum wouldn’t bother him. He has now been in town for a week and has been generally looking for work and wasting away his stash of bullets wherever the whiskey is good.

Gear

Weapons:

• Smith & Wesson 357 Revolver:

  
• Bowie Knife:

  
• Scoped M14 (wooden frame)

Armor: N/A
Ammunition:

• Dirty Rounds: 100
• High Grade Rounds: 40 (20 round clips x2)
• Grenades: 7

Black Leather Knapsack:

• Medkit, Rope, Rations, Canteen, Sewing Kit, Flashllight, Ammo (72 dirty 357 magnum), Misc Ammo (50 High-Grade shotgun slugs + 142 dirty 9mm rounds) Matches, Grenades, Painkillers, and a bottle and a half of moonshine

Belt:

• Gun/Holster, Bullet Pouch (18 dirty 357 magnum), Spare Clip, Knife

Immortalis Information

Manifested Phenomena: Air/Wind
Unique Abilities:

• Windcaller: Creates powerful gusts of air that can knock back opponents and toss around various objects. Also allows for ‘Jetpacking’ and limited flight.

Strengths:

• Gunslinger: Quick on the draw, and even faster on the trigger, Bento is an incredible shot. With a revolver as his weapon of choice, he considers anything but a kill as a miss, and he rarely misses.
• Nerves of Steel: It is in danger that Bento most excels, acting quickly and deliberately, often without even losing his characteristically expressionless face. The result is an almost terrifyingly fearsome fighter.
• Clever: His time as a scout have taught him how to survive and outsmart his opponents using the environment and tactics.
• Conditioning: Time as a scout and then as a slave have kept him in great physical condition relative to a normal man his age.

Weaknesses:

• Claustrophobic: Can’t use his powers in an enclosed space (as there is not enough air to push around).
• Glass Cannon: In order to stay light Bento doesn’t wear any armor.
• Death Wish:Those who know him well have gone so far as to say that Bento is a man utterly incapable of fear, approaching violence with such astounding disregard for his own life that one might believe he was trying to die.
• Death Wish (Redux): Bento abuses substances with such disregard for his own life that one might believe he was trying to die. One byproduct of this is a strong dependence on alcohol, to the extent that he can hardly fight without at least two drinks in him.

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Thanks! Figured it was too long for the backstory but too important to gloss over.

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Since I'm posting before my CS is up (though it's been submitted for final review now) here is a picture for appearance.

The Dust

-Six Months Ago- The road east from Forbes was hot and unforgiving, especially to a slave. Being a member of The Forsaken was hard enough, but knowing how they treated one another, a man could only imagine how they might treat a slave. “Can’t you pull those carts any faster, you fucking useless sacks of shit?” Shouted a tough looking man riding atop his motorcycle. “I pull you lot out of the mines and this is how you repay me?” No complaints were lodged, no backtalk was given, the men just started pulling faster. They had all served at least five years in the mines, and no one made that long without learning how to bite their tongues. A grizzled looking man in his early thirties stood beside another, somewhat older man as they pulled one of the many carts in their caravan, bound for Harlem. “Do you remember the promise that I made to you, my friend?” The younger whispered. “I have a feeling you will be seeing your son soon.” “What are you trying to say, Bento? You surely can’t take them all.” Sure enough, there where nearly 100 men armed to the teeth all around them, some riding motorcycles, while others simply walked. The caravans were carrying too much to use their trucks for. Besides, no bandits would dare attack such a large force of Forsaken… “Do you see those glimmers of light shining off the dunes? Someone is either really brave, or really stupid.” Around the caravan the winds quietly stirred, “Either way, you’ll be free within the hour, I swear it…” “What are you rats whispering about? You know the punishment for conspiracy, Promos! And you won’t survive it again…“ “No, no, Master Darius, old man Promos and I were just discussing how ugly your mother must been to shit out a piece of garbage like you.” Bento spat back. Leaping off his motorcycle Darius stormed over to the mouthy slave while one of his friends fired a shotgun in the air to stop the caravan. “What the fuck did you just say, you rotten little shit! Bare your back before I kill you where you stand!” “Well, I’m really sorry, Master, but I can’t do that while my hands are chained to this cart you see…” As Bento dug his grave even deeper, Darius was already unlocking his cuffs and dragging him out in front of all the other slaves and the gathering Forsaken, all excited for a good lashing. Obediently, Bento unbuttoned his dirty white shirt and got down on his knees, exposing a back covered almost entirely with latticed with scars from old lashings and the torture he had first received upon being discovered in Forsaken territory. Darius raised his whip above his head, when suddenly from out of the dunes a chorus of gunshot rang out, followed by cries of pain, and surprise. Several of their masters had fallen in the first few seconds of the assault, the opportunity that Bento had been waiting for every second of the past 6 years had finally arrived. While the other slaves dropped their carts and ducked for cover, Promos called out to his closest friend, “Bento! Get down! Our efforts will have been in vain if you get yourself killed now!” The old man shouted from behind one of the carts. But his cry fell on deaf ears, and a heart consumed with a cold rage. In one move, Bento rose from his knees, and pulled his Master’s prized bowie knife from its sheath while he was distracted and trying to locate the source of the gunfire. Putting his Master into a choke hold from behind, Bento then proceeded to plunge the knife deep into the man’s gut. “You whore!” He groaned, coughing up blood as he spat out his words. Bento threw the his keys over to Promos, before he let Darius crumple down to the ground, gingerly swiping the man’s 357 magnum from its holster and tossing it far out of reach as he did. There was no need for guns right now… For years he had practiced using his power in secret, always on a small scale, but he had figured out the principles and workings of his abilities well enough. Bento spun round to check on his friend and found that Promos had already started freeing the other slaves from their chains. With them taken care of, now it was really time to see what kind of chaos he could be capable of. Calling upon the powers granted to him by fate swept, the Immortal summoned powerful winds up under his cart, throwing into the air, before it came crashing back down on top of a group of Forsaken. It was quickly becoming apparent that those responsible for the attack were far from the average rogue bandit group. Despite fighting an overwhelmingly larger force from a position of little cover, these guys were ripping through the Forsaken. Making his way towards the smashed up cart that he had destroyed, Bento and took cover as he knelt down to see what goods had spilled out. He broke open a few crates full of bullets before he found what he really wanted, a box of grenades. “Promos! Feed ‘em to me!” He shouted, pointing at the box on the ground, grabbing two to start himself off with. It was time to test out the one theory he hadn’t been able to test while in captivity. Concentrating his efforts, the windcaller summoned a vortex of wind which lifted him off the ground, to a solid vantage point. “You’re flying Bento! You’re flying!” Promos cried out with joy, rushing over to the box of grenades. “I am the raging storm!” He called out, drawing the Forsaken’s attention, “I am the fury of one thousand slaves! And you will feel my wrath as I rain down fire, to scorch you from this earth!” Pulling the pins on his grenades, the windcaller threw them high into the air, and spiked them down towards his enemies. Promos immediately caught on and started tossing up primed grenades for his friend to bombard the Forsaken with. Bento’s heart was beating extraordinarily fast, and his vision started to blur, but the storm raged even harder as more explosions tore through the caravan. The attackers had taken this opportunity to close in on the remaining Forsaken, and with the combined assault, easily routed the maybe 20 remaining soldiers still capable of running. As he sunk back to the ground, the former slave wobbled uneasily on his feet, stumbling through his steps as he advanced towards the broken body of his former master. “Halt!” A voice shouted from behind him, “We are from the Motum Diversum! Do not shoot, and you will all be given sanctuary within our territory!” Bento did not turn around, and simply raised a hand, gesturing for the Diversum troops to wait. He only needed a moment. Darius had seen him coming and was desperately crawling towards his discarded weapon. “Oh Master, it seems you’ve been wounded.” Bento mocked, regaining his composure as he delivered a hard kick to the man’s side, knocking him onto his back. “Let me get that for you.” He continued, scooping up the revolver. “Hmm. Seems a little sandy. I wonder if it still fires?” Bento cocked the hammer and fired it haphazardly into the ground next to Darius’ head. The man screamed in fear. “Please don’t kill me! I was good to you!” He pleaded. “You were good to a slave. But now, I am a man, and you are no more than a howling beast to the source of all things, for this world has no more need for a beaten dog such as you.”Bento delivered the second shot into the man’s skull. “I do like your vest though…” He added, casually crouching down and pulling the knife from his former master’s gut. “May have to do a little repair work, but that shouldn’t be too hard.” “I don’t want any trouble, Immortal.” A man’s voice said, coming from behind him, “This is Forsaken territory, so as far as I’m concerned there’s no need to… Wait, is that you Major?” As Bento turned around, he stared back into a pair of familiar eyes. “It’s been a long time Captain Thorne…” He replied, the wisps of grey that latticed his steel colored eyes obscuring any emotion. Through the deadened, hard look on his face, Thorne could see the hardships of the past six years. “It’s actually Colonel now…” Thorne said, sadness in his heart. “Congratulations.” “Christ… I’m so sorry, Quine.” “You searched as hard as you could.” Bento turned away and busied himself looting Darius’ corpse. Silence hung in the air for a little while. “You know you can’t come back now, right?” Thorne finally said. “I’m an Immortal now.” “Yeah… Is there anything I can do for you at least?” “I assume this was an officially unsanctioned raid, yeah? Plausible deniability and all?” Bento asked, to which Colonel Thorne nodded. “Spare these men the refugee camps. Give us a ride to Harlem and whatever salvage we can carry.” “Deal”

---

It was near 7 o’clock by the time they reached Harlem, pulling up outside the house where Promos had once lived. It didn’t look like much, but to Bento, it was beautiful. A 20 year old man stepped outside to see what was going on. Quietly, old man Promos climbed out of the car’s trunk and slowly walked toward him, trembling. The boy ran into his father’s arms as they both collapsed to their knees, weeping away the pain of nearly 8 years separation. The Major hopped down from the trunk, wearing a pair of pilfered sunglasses, and stood back in the road as an older woman entered the doorway, her hand covering her mouth. Bento watched the old man rise to his feet as his son helped him walk to over to his wife. “I want you to have this.” Thorne said, walking up beside him and handing Bento a scoped M14 battle rifle. “I remember you used to be a pretty good shot back in the day.” “You know, Colonel, working in those mines, I never expected to see anything beautiful till the day I died…” The pair looked on as a family cried tears of joy at the resurrection of a man long thought dead. The scene backlit by the orange sky of The Dust set beautifully ablaze by a setting sun. “I only wish it wasn’t raining.” A single tear rolling down a dirty cheek, eyes hidden behind tinted glass.

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Escaped slave's post should be up soon. He will be in Russell City, and he will be unemployed/drunk. Also: [list-] [*-] [/list-] (remove the dashes)

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What is the economy run on? Old world money? Purely barter?

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My CS is pretty much done aside from some largely inconsequential details in the Bio section. Should I just post it as is and then continue working on my post (getting close to finished with it), or do you want me to wrap up the bio better?