Enzayne

[Approved] Cora Vane, Swoop Racer

OoC

How long do you usually write?
Several paragraphs

Do you enjoy writing collaborative posts for things like conversations, combat, etc.?
My only experience with collaborative posts are with personal friends, but I’m willing to give most things a go.

Is grammar and depth of writing important to you?
Yes.

Are there any writing subjects you particularly enjoy exploring?
Intrigue
Battles and the aftermath
Morality
Power
Sanity

Is there anything you really dislike and want to avoid like the plague?
Nah.

Is there something you are uncomfortable with happening to your character?
Talk to me and most things are fine.

Do you have any short-term or long-term goals with this character?
Become a respected celebrity in non-criminal circles. Help the family establish a name as honorable and trusty transport merchants. Inevitably become entangled in things out of her control.

Couriers Holonet Ad

Name: Cora Vane
Species: Human
Homeworld: Nar Shaddaa
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Specialisation: Racer, Pilot
Current area of operation: Nar Shaddaa

Couriers Holonet Metadata Summary

_{Detailed appearance. Imagery insufficient.}

Cora Vane

Cora stands at an approximate height of 5’6” (171 cm). She has an athletic, lean build owing to hard training regimens and weight-limits for her chosen profession. Jet-black straight hair hangs free to just barely touch her shoulders and swept aside to keep her eyes free. Her face is dominated by defiant brown eyes and a sturdy jawline keeping her lips in a thin frown. Often seen in her racing gear, a full-body pilot suit with some padding modifications and a wind-wrap cloak, which she keeps as immaculate as the racing machine itself. Cora tends towards practical jackets and clothes when not on the clock, though is not beyond wearing something for it’s style. She presents herself with a straight back and raised chin often, together with a wide stance to take her rightful place in every room she walks into.

_{Report on skills and talents, including level of skill.}

Cora Vane is first and foremost a swoop racer. Piloting these ‘engines with a seat’ has been been both a drive for the woman, and as time has shown, a natural talent. Her reflexes, physique and timing have been honed to master the art of racing at insane speeds. She is an up-and-comer in the world of racing, and how much is talent rather than luck remains to be seen, but the signs of a great racer are all there.
This has also carried over into her pilot skills, as training with her father’s light freighter has made her an acceptable, perhaps even good, pilot of the much heavier vehicle. As a result, she has an official pilot’s license for light freighter craft. She has issues at higher speeds, where the reaction timing of the larger freighter is much different to that of a small swoop bike.

She has basic mechanical understanding – enough to patch an engine and tamper with minor modifications. She could probably repair a smaller ship given a few months and a user’s manual.

She speaks both Huttese and Basic without any real issue. She reads and writes in both languages.

_{Report on known combat experience, training and weapons training.}

Only the very basics have been taught to Cora, and as such she is proficient enough with a blaster pistol to assure her father she can “take care of herself”. She has never fired at a live target.

She is athletic and relatively strong, but does not have fighting technique beyond watching shockboxing on the holonet.

_{Does the Courier have, or have they ever had, a bounty on them? Are they wanted?}

No.

_{Detailed notes on common/favored employers and any noteworthy contacts.}

Arrel Vane
Her father and main employer, Arrel Vane owns and operates a small merchant office under the name Vane Trading & Logistics. He both sponsors his daughter’s racing habit, and employs her in his business as a pilot, warehouse technician, and courier. Cursory investigation into Vane Trading & Logistics suggests that they have a steady supply of odd-jobs and transportation gigs in and out of the Corellian Sector. They have no established long-term contracts and appear to be going at it day-to-day.

Niko Vane
Cora’s older brother by five years, and previously the main pilot and worker in their father’s business. Niko appears to have a recurring problem with keeping out of trouble, and his constant ensnarement in different underworld schemes and Cartel business have led the family to officially distance themselves from him. Despite this, he appears to interact with his family (and Cora) on a regular basis and there appears to be no friction beyond his voluntary exile from the family business.

Talik Vane
The youngest member of the family is Talik, Cora’s younger brother by four years. His attempts to follow in his sister’s footsteps proved less than fruitful, and now he mainly works in the small warehouse and fills in with loading and other tasks that need doing. Does his best to bask in the reputation of his family, whether that be whatever small fame Cora can earn, or ferocious stories about his ‘violent criminal’ older brother, which more than once has led to issues for other family members. The kid loves a good story.

_{Detailed notes on known rivals and enemies.}

Qir-Zavu Osk
A weequay swoop racer of some repute in the Nar Shaddaa racing scene, having made headway in official circuits and sponsorships. Placed second in the most recent Sel’Von Swoop Circuit Tournament, being beaten by Cora Vane after a few run-ins and minor rivalry bouts on minor circuits. What was an amicable rivalry of competitive spirit has since heated up to anger on his part, allegedly badmouthing Cora in local cantinas and racing hangouts. Rumors suggest he is connected to the Cartel in some way, although how much pull he has is unclear.

Joxel Trask
A small-time criminal operating out of the Sapphire Veil Casino in the Corellian Sector with a minor crew and gang connections. Inextricably linked to Cora through previous friendship and romantic relations, her choice to remain on the straight-and-narrow with her father’s business and focus on her racing career meant the end of their connection, but not for lack of trying on his part. Joxel presents a different front and switches freely between ally, rival, and enemy depending on his mood, jealousy and reminiscing of the past.

’Honest’ Ruzii
A long-time rival of Cora’s father, a quarren merchant who dabbles in transportation, security solutions and over-the-counter bulk sales. He has traditionally competed with Vane Trading & Logistics on many occasions, and has a reputation for threatening his competition or making sure they cannot compete in other ways. Is not beyond hiring thugs or stealing from others, and only seems to keep in line when the fallout of such actions would be too great. While he has no direct quarrel with Cora, he finds her as despicable as her father, and considers her an enemy of free trade because of her decision to stay with the business.

_{List and description of other known associates.}

Jal Ersk
Her old raceway mentor, an older Corellian man with some renown around the Nar Shaddaa racetracks. Though he doesn’t race anymore, he has considerable breadth of knowledge about both the sport, machines, and the inner workings of the Smuggler’s Moon. He has tucked away the daredevil spirit and retired to cantinas and easy enjoyment. How he stays afloat is anyone’s guess.

Dubra Jell
A rodian mechanic with a long list of misdemeanors and consistently indebted to one Cartel member or other, Dubra Jell is nonetheless one of the main personalities contracted to work on the family business’ equipment, both their transport vessel and Cora’s own swoop bike. She works a whole garage of gear-heads that take care of the real work, but has the know-how to get things done when it matters.

_{List of known belongings, including but not limited to planetary surface property, civilian and military vessels, vehicles, weapons, tools.}

Aggressor
Cora’s swoop bike, the Aggressor, is her most prized possession, and the result of significant investment of time, credits and sweat on both her and her family’s part. Originally an off-brand Lhosan Industries copy, it has seen so many upgrades, modifications and complete replacements of the shell that it is arguably no longer anything like the original model or specs. It drives very fast, with excellent handling for a swoop, and features soft-fold wingflaps for air-braking rather than standard repulsor-brakes. It can lift from the ground with a burst of engine power, and then gracefully ‘fly’ in a manner more reminiscent of controlled falling.

Spirit of Inquiry
A Dynamic-class light freighter owned by her father and registered to the family business. It is kept in a reasonably maintained state for it’s age, but the old girl has definitively seen better days. The starboard turret has been unmounted due to damage prior to the current ownership, and the port turret has never actually been fired by the Vane family. It works, allegedly. Mostly used for cargo runs and passenger shuttling, the freighter is fairly barebones, save for a few family trinkets that have personalized the main hold and starboard bunks over the years. The ionic impulse compensator chokes and threatens to kill the engine at the most inopportune of times, but the regular mechanic, Dubra Jell, assures the family that it’s fine. The craft isn’t exactly owned or even always available to Cora, but she does have access to it’s use and sometimes frequently finds herself in the pilot seat.

Vane Trading & Logistics
A watershed warehouse in the neglected half of the Corellian Sector, this accommodating mess of workshop halls and lodging pulls triple duty as a storefront, a warehouse, and living space for the Vane family. Cora has her own bunk in a tight crawlspace, plastered with posters and racing memorabilia.

Cora usually has a few multitools and slap-patches close at hand in case of vehicular breakdown or medical emergency. While on the clock for her father, she carries an old hold-out blaster for protection.

_{Psychological evaluation of Courier.}

Cora is a speed demon, and the desire to chase that thrill, and win, appears to be in her blood. She is level-headed enough under pressure to make quick decisions and socially apt enough not to fly off the handle around others. She relishes a challenge, and spends much time practicing and training to better herself at whatever new problem lies before her. She handles most situations with stoic professionalism, and generally tries to be cordial – if competitive – towards her rivaling racers, as well as anyone else she meets. She is, like many with the Corellian spirit, fiercely protective of the family unit. The blood runs thick, and she is quick to help those she includes in her circle of family and friends.

_{List and description of known and suspected flaws. To be put into restricted database.}

Notably, her family ties are a source of weakness for Cora. Her father has racked up an impressive list of problematic deals, debts and enemies over the years – as any trader trying to make it on their own on Nar Shaddaa – and his troubles easily spread onto his daughter. Likewise, her older brother Niko has a knack for angering gangers, crime bosses, and debtors on the smuggler’s moon, and they do not always discriminate between family. Lastly, her younger brother is hot-headed and eager to live up to his siblings; he almost inevitably ends up in the middle of trouble by his own making. That would be trouble enough, but coupled with Cora’s strong sense of familial loyalty, she will answer any call for help from her family without fail. Someone who wanted to go after her could certainly get her exactly where they wanted, with a little motivation from the family.

Furthermore, Cora is extremely proud of her climbing achievements in the world. She considers her reputation part of her own worth, and her accomplishments proof of her competence. She has issues turning down challenges, competitions, or letting insults go. While she has good control of her emotions in general, she has issues with dropping a perceived slight, and generally wants to beat her opponents into the ground, usually by besting them at their own game. So far this has really only been racing. Pushed enough, she would surely snap harder.
Thirdly, Cora is confident bordering on reckless, and her competitive spirit pushes her to take risks – in racing, in shortcuts on the cargo route, in gambling. She likes danger, even if she doesn’t admit it. What started as thrill-rides and sneaking around at night has become dangerous choices for better results, taking on tougher odds, and betting on the underdog.

_{Known interests of the Courier.}

As a swoop racer, Cora’s main interest can squarely be placed in swoop racing. She loves the life of speed and danger, and the mix of trash-talk and celebration with her competitors. She can trace the same enjoyment in piloting a craft, but it usually doesn’t go fast enough. Or close enough to hazards.

She also enjoys gambling in all it’s forms, and is an avid dejarik player in her past-time.

She frequents cantinas and casinos in the Corellian Sector and seems to splurge for higher quality entertainment when she can.

_{Major achievements on record.}

Third place in the Lhosan Limited Cup on Nar Shaddaa, 4 ATC.

Winner of the Sel’Von Swoop Circuit Tournament on Nar Shaddaa, 5 ATC.

_{Major failures on record. Confidential.}

Last place out of twenty-eight in the Annor Fele Memorial Circuit swoop race on Nar Shaddaa, 3 ATC. The Aggressor, Cora’s swoop bike, stalled after a reckless boost through a plume of smoke to shave seconds off her time. While Cora managed to keep from crashing, it took her almost a full minute to get the engine under control, leading to a result that may as well have been a disqualification.

Cora lost a shipment of medical supplies contracted for delivery onto the smuggler’s moon. According to witness accounts, her old contact Joxel Trask had been resuming relations for a time, and was seen around the docking bay when Cora landed. Cora has to this day refused to say exactly what transpired, and theories range from her working with criminal elements to disperse the supplies, to her simply being robbed. The supply shortage severely impeded a local clinic, terminated future relations with the client, and put her father’s business into temporary debt until insurance handling came through.

Interview

_{Personal biography, as detailed by the subject for future record. Acquired shortly after last achievement of note.}

Cora had the average life of a kid in the bad half of the Corellian Sector. At least that’s what she had always thought. Mother left the picture when her little brother was three, doctor said she didn’t have it in her to go on. She’d been pale for a while, and Niko told her later that she’d been coughing blood. Father struggled to keep it together. Three clawing kids running around the industries and making trouble with merchants and gangers.

Somehow, he kept them going. Food kept coming in, even if Cora remembers going hungry sometimes. They all started helping young. Niko and Cora had to help raise Talik, and they took turns watching and helping their little brother and causing mischief around the neighborhood. Cora practiced her reading by reading little Talik stories about ancient heroes and news articles from the holonet.
The older she got, the more she had to help with father’s business. Father managed to grow his network, more people said hello on the street, local vendors traded favors and discounts with a smile. She left it to Niko to be the scion of the family. He knew how to talk to people better than she did – he was older after all – and he was growing up to be just as good as father at this merchant gig. Maybe better, even. He didn’t argue or get sour like father did.

When she was twelve, Niko took her to a swoop race for the first time. He didn’t really take her there; she tagged along with him and his friends. It was love at first sight. The speed. The thrill. The danger. Just watching, and later – thinking about it – sent Cora into a spiral of excitement. She snuck out to watch the races often after that, and her holo-movies took a very distinct turn.
It didn’t take her long to branch out. There were many kids like her. Many star-struck speed devils. Some of them had family who raced, or worked with speeders. Cora got involved. She got to sit on a speeder bike. After that, it was destiny.

Niko started vanishing more and more, as he got older. More excuses. More late-night knocks on the door from shady gangers. More bruises. As a result, Cora shouldered more responsibility in the shop. In return, she could spend ever more of her free time at the circuits. She learned, mingled, and trained.

Eventually, she was old enough to learn for real. She does not remember now, but she must have badgered her father about it every day for at least three months, until he finally gave in. She started practicing for real, with a teacher; Jal Ersk. It was a simple paid affair, but the more she practiced the less it became a formal tutorship. The old man thought that she was good. Real talent. If she trained – she could win. This realization did not go over well at home, at least not at first.

Around the same time, Cora entangled herself for real in the underbelly of Nar Shaddaa’s average youth. Just as Niko had done. She met Joxel. He was funny, clever, confident. He told her she should be able to do whatever she wanted. It was an easy match. Together, they tore through more of Vane Trading & Logistics reputation in a week than a bad deal would do in a month.

The compromise was simple. Her father needed more of her time at home, in the shop, and eventually, in the sky. He didn’t want her vanished for days at a time, like her older brother. So he encouraged her racing. He came to watch her practice. Encouraged a few friends to pitch in for a celebration when she won her first practice circuit. In the end, he too was convinced that she had a real shot at something. She was rapidly gaining recognition from her family, from her friends, from her trainer. She could be a contender. Her rise to success was further cemented when her father proved his dedication for her career, investing in a swoop bike as her first official sponsor.

Her first real race was the Annor Fele Memorial Circuit. She had practiced the circuit. She had done hundreds of small-time races for the enjoyment of traders, tourists, cartel folk even. This was a real race. The pressure got to her. She made bad calls. She let the praise get to her head. She failed. A total wash. She nearly put away the racer spirit for good. Her father taught her how to fly for real, got her a pilot’s license. Talik was old enough to help out like she had done now, but Niko wasn’t around to fly anymore.

Eventually her father, her brothers, and her trainer convinced her to stay at it. In all honesty, it didn’t take long to put her back on the bike. There was another big race around the corner. She had a few months to practice. To tune the engine so the same thing didn’t happen again. Cora pulled out all the stops. Her swoop bike got a full makeover, a considerable investment from father, her own saved money, and some from acquaintances.

She came in third. It was enough to prove to herself that she had it. The talent, the skill. It was in there, waiting to come out and make her famous. Free of the average. Cora put in the time, devoted herself more and more to her racing. She even sought out the unofficial races, built some credibility with private entertainers and corporate interests. When the next big race, a whole tournament, rolled around, she was ready.

Everything came together. Her form was good. The bike was excellent. The track sang under her repulsorlift drive.
She could hardly believe it when the time proved she had advanced. Again and again, she pulled excellent times. In the end, it was her name at the top of the board. Her legacy had just begun, and the name Vane was not just a middling transport business. It was power.

She wanted more.

Edit: Fixed a name.

𝕮𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖘 - Chaos and Order

Also, please don’t give this to me in some avant-garde dialogue form.

@Opposition

I feel personally attacked.

Looks great! I'll see what I can come up with. It's a little daunting for me, but I'll give it a go.

𝕮𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖘 - Action/Thriller about Global Espionage and Freedom Fighters

I am also interested in this. Looks great for an opening perspective.

The Hanged Man [A Darkest Dungeon Inspired RP]

Sorry for the delay, had some issues crop up IRL.

Also hope the quality is alright, I'm a little frazzled right now. x)

The Hanged Man [A Darkest Dungeon Inspired RP]

J A V I Y A H

---

---

The journey was a downcast, quiet affair. Javiyah had expected no less. Were it that the three she had now found herself sharing a carriage with had been shuttled for as long and as far as her, it would not be a stretch to assume their spirits were equally sapped. Though she prided herself on her cartography, she gave up on identifying villages, and now this city, long ago. She knew where she was going. That was enough. Javiyah glowered out through the murky view to observe the city as they rolled by. Once, a new city would have made her breathless with anticipation and wanderlust. Now she could only make out the indications of unrest, of squalor, and neglect. Indeed, rolling through the urban scenery gave no new inclination for conversation, and Javiyah eventually turned away from the torrid sight, no interest left for the hardships of the commoner in the street.

She felt as much as saw the gaze she received from the passenger opposite her but made no immediate attempt to meet his gaze or retort. Everyone stared. Some in intrigue, some in revulsion. Eventually, everyone wondered. He was a dwarf, and presumably used to stares himself if travel was in his blood. Javiyah pressed forward a distant smile as she considered the first time she met a dwarf. She’d asked him so many questions that she was now sure he would never answer a question again. The novelty was not quite so high, anymore, but she nevertheless felt the urge to question who he was, where he came from, and what he had seen.

The cowled woman on the other hand; what was her purpose? Another like her, perhaps. Surely. The way that the squalid conditions of their vista seemed to grip her on their ride, she was either a champion of the simple folk, or woefully out of her element. There was something strange about her – the way she moved. She was old, but Javiyah paid it no more mind. She would learn more if they remained this close in proximity. Javiyah rubbed her arm in idle fidget as she cast a glance to final member of the carriage crew. A burly, dirty fellow with the tale of war and battle written on his skin. The letter calling her here had been vague, at best, but with this sour young warrior at her side, she could better imagine the exact nature of the Lord’s request.

The plights of the common man stiffened her heart as they rolled into a manor courtyard, watching the chaos spread among the masses as they fled their own protest. This was the way of life. Cause and effect. The next time, the peasants will have prepared. Ushered along with the others into the chambers of Lord Malcast, Javiyah remained quiet and observant, simply bowing her head to the Lord himself as he welcomed them. Now they would discuss the purpose of their journey in full, at last. Or not. Javiyah frowned as the Lord vanishes away to some distant part of the mansion. Another crisis?

They were taken to some manner of dining hall, which reminded her of home. Opulent, but forgotten. Magnificent, but troubling. She moved to examine a bookcase as the others toured the room and seated themselves in equal measure. Many books she had not read – some in languages she did not know – but judging from the dust, neither had the Lord of the house. A voice she has not heard previously breaks, and Javiyah turns to spectate the introductions. Aemma. Thadurim. Good names. Giving the warrior among them another glance, she takes the chance at speaking next, taking a step away from the bookcase and laying a hand on the back of a chair. She will not sit immediately, but she has at least claimed space by the table. “In the presence of nobility, sometimes lies are all we have.” She feels eyes on her, and quickly adds to her retort. “I am Javiyah. Although I feel as though we know each other already, after such a journey.”

The Hanged Man [A Darkest Dungeon Inspired RP]

Javiyah the Heretic

J A V I Y A H

Gender: Female
Age: 30’s
Race: Human
Profession: Scholar

DETAILS

Detailed Appearance:
A woman with features vaguely reminiscent of the Taran southerners, with tan skin from a heritage by the deserts, and voluminous, coal-black, hair that nevertheless has been shortened to end as her neck does. Her face is well-defined and dominated by a sharp nose and strong cheekbones. Furthermore, the right side of her face has been permanently marked with an archaic tattoo, the meaning of which is lost to those who do not burrow themselves in books. It skids around the bottom of her eye, drawing attention to her vigilant brown iris. Likewise, a solid line has been permanently inked over the middle of her lips, running down under her chin.

She dresses primarily in traveler’s cloaks, thick articles to resist weather and sun, though the baggy sleeves of a considerably nicer undershirt can be observed. When she is not bogged down by cowls and cloaks, her clothes are strapped close to her body and fitted for mobility and breathability. She is by no means an imposing figure, barely a thumb taller than your average Baldock lady, but the robes belie the figure beneath all the same; certainly athletic for a purported scholar.

Bronze fittings embellish her arms and legs, clipping shut the baggy sleeves and pantaloons. She wears the shoes of a cobbler’s daughter; pragmatic, cheap, and without fanfare.

Detailed Backstory:

With a quiet rasp of flint, the paper sparks and catches a small flame. The woman lights the candle and blows the paper out, before stowing it back from whence it came. “So, you asked who I am? My story is a long and arduous one, my friend, but I can see in your eyes now that you are no man to back away from a tale to be heard.
Perhaps the honest truth is where we should begin? With a risk of boring you, friend, the simple truth is that I am no one special. My parents were simple people, living each day as the sun rose. For many years, we tended my father’s goats, my brother’s geese. That is the finest life, you see, to smile as it rains, laugh with your family, and wonder what lies beyond the horizon. Even know I can see clearly before me the smile of my brother, Razhal. Hear the laughter of Avi, my mother. Rarely will you see a man in the city full of glee for another day, a magistrate with time for his wife, or a scribe with wonder left in his eyes. Such were the eyes of Al-Qadir, my father. I did not understand it then, but the simple life was not for him, as it is no longer for me. But you need not ask the question, comrade, I know already what you wonder; why would I extol the virtues of a simple life far from this place, yet sit here before you?

Such is the fickleness of the simple life, it shall forever be unaware of what lurks beyond the dune, whether it be riches or war. With such a life, the ignorance of the simple man cannot be blamed when he becomes a victim of circumstance. Likewise can we no more blame the passion of the warrior, whose blood runs hot in his veins for glory, vengeance, or justice. Nor the commander, who sits in his tent, tired eyes focused on the pieces upon his map – a world where only the marked pawns matter. It must be a terrible life, to worry in that way. But the world does not care. Death, is death. Our blood looks the same as the goat’s blood, just as the geese. Under the sun, the simple man’s blood is no different from that of the soldier over the hill. Perhaps it is an easy mistake to make, with such in mind.

Do not give me that pity that now builds within you, my friend, decades have passed and the sun has seen much blood spilled since that fateful day. I am simply here because my mother hid me under all our linens as the men came down the hill. A random, panicked act, perhaps. Or perhaps the deal Avi made with the world, their lives for mine. The world is cruel, and the world is random, comrade. I can see now that my father knew this. Perhaps that is why he armed my brother and tried to resist the soldiers. Perhaps if he had knelt as they commanded, I would not be here today, but tending to a child and to my goats. These are things we cannot know.

That is the second trouble of the simple life; it can be taken away, and like accidentally insulting the king to his face, the life you had can never be returned to. We are different from who we were yesterday. Indeed, you are different for simply listening to me now. You may deny it all you wish, but like all words, like all actions, this day will linger in the back of your mind. As that day did in mine, as I wandered the land. When you come from the simple life, you do what you can to cling to it. You know it is the best life that can be had. But as I said, life can not be returned to. I could no longer smile at the sun, reminded of a better time. I no longer had a family to laugh with. I could however, released from my bonds, find out what wonders lay beyond the horizon.

I see you looking at the insignia under my eye. Like my origins, it is not a riveting tale. At the sun’s first light at the end of the week, a restless soul found me defeated by heat and hunger. I had surrendered to the fickleness of nature even after my mother’s trade, such was my weakness. The traveler, perhaps understanding more of the world than I, denied me such a paltry surrender. He claimed to know my father, but I had never seen him near our farm. Nor had I heard the name Ihsan in the stories my father had regaled me with. But the choices are not many for a girl with no life. Trust the man in the desert with inscriptions on his face, or run and die. Perhaps you can imagine then, that with a mere drink of water, death seemed like a difficult choice to make. He whisked me away to a land of musty tomes, star-maps and learned talk. To me, it was as though we crossed the entire world, and before we reached his citadel, we had put much of the Empire beneath our feet. Hm? Yes, Tara, of course. Despite what you have heard, it is still the jewel of the world, of this there can be no discussion. In my journey from west to east, I had many glorious days of wonder, the first of many tastes of what lay beyond the hills.

He spoke to me only rarely. He did not have the patience for my questions or my sorrow. Instead, he would only offer me questions about the nature of the world. Parables and riddles to be solved. I had no mind for it, I am after all from the simple life. To worry about the nature of water, the heat of fire or the span of a man’s life, these are not things that bring comfort. I had seen comfort, but it could never be returned. When we reached his home, I saw that he was not alone in his worries. Likeminded men and women filled the halls. A monastery of learning, where worrying about the state of everything was as natural as feeding your animals. My choice was to leave, or learn.

So I worried about the nature of the stars. Pondered the significance of ancient texts. With my new family of worried scribes, I searched for the answers to all the wonders of the simple life. With each answer, as I knew, the life I longed for grew more and more distant. The simple life was unfulfilling. Tame. This is the curse of knowledge, my friend. To know is to worry. And I knew many things. I worried so much that this blemish on my face – yes, under my eye – was a necessity. Do not ask me why, even though I see you wish it. Knowing it will not help you. Today I can say only that my life at the monastery was a blur. In this new world, knowledge and oration was popularity. Friends were by your side as long as you were right. Most of my new family were too old to care for anything but my young body. What remained was to be right, and know everything.

Only the perils of the unnatural remained a true mystery. Like you, the curiosities of what I do not know catches my heart. That is our remnants from the simple life, the wonder from beyond the horizon. Knowledge comes with a great cost, my friend. It is like power, money, and laying with your husband; it evokes a lust. A yearning for more. Again, I had only a singular path ahead of me. To know everything. I came to this land, Baldock, for the prestigious school of the learned. The unnatural arts. You have heard of it? Good. Unfortunately, my disappointment was immeasurable.

Unlike my new family, there was no knowledge there. Only worrying. No debates, no true studies. Only the inevitable failure of arrogant men trying to stifle the curiosities of the simple life. But I had travelled too far. I had left a second family behind. Instead, I resolved I would learn the wonders of this new land. Perhaps find a third family to eventually leave for the answers on the far side of the hill. And that is what I have done, my friend. If you wished to know who I met along the way, it would be fair to say we would be here all the week. But there is a new mystery, for you, for me.

That is why we are both here, is it not? Just as you, I am here because of who I have smiled at, spoken to, curtsied for. It is some time ago now, that I regaled a lord's son with my stories. Talked to him about the real wonders of the world, outside the stuffy academy in Baldock. As I said before, my friend, knowledge is intoxicating. First I had to know, and now he does. Perhaps you do, as well? Who am I to deny a powerful man my eyes, my knowledge, my stories? I hope you understand a little better, now, that I am no one special.

What else can I hope to be, among the wonders of the world?”

Equipment

Weapons: Arming knife
Armor: Quilted cloth
General Provisions: Enough talismans and trinkets to fill a year’s worth of stories. Rations for a few days.
Magical Items:

Magic

Magical Affinity: Javiyah has an innate understanding of the world and magic (or so it would seem) and appears to have a deep affinity for the unnatural arts, whether through symbology or innate ability is anyone’s guess.

Spells:

Wisdom of the Diamond Eye – After reproducing archaic symbols and chanting in a strange language, Javiyah’s tattoo glows and her eye appears to harden and gleam as though it were a diamond. Those unlucky enough to stare at her markings or eye find themselves rooted in place, unable to command their body. Staring for too long at the diamond eye invites maddening visions of a mirrored version of the world, where grass is crystallized and bleak, and the world’s features has been replaced by crystalline structures. Those foolish enough to maintain their gaze might find the landscape permanently changed. Likewise, using her eye in this manner strikes Javiyah with blindness both during and after the fact. Perhaps permanently, if she uses it with enough abandon.

Curse of Knowledge – Quite literally a curse, Javiyah chants a seemingly endless string of words that follow no modern conventions or reason, which by their very nature appear to catch the attention of listeners around her, no matter their race, creed or even species. The results are random, and dangerous. Those hearing enough of the words might be driven temporarily or permanently mad, enraged, fall into despair, or simply drop to the ground screaming. They partake in some fundamental truth of the universe, driven by Javiyah’s own need to know everything. Javiyah herself is entirely immobile during this experience and is by no means immune to outside influence. Furthermore, she is not immune to it’s effects, although it’s effect on her soul might not be so immediately apparent.

The Simple Life – Perhaps the easiest spell to stomach in Javiyah’s repertoire, this simple incantation requires that the woman physically touch her target while chanting her inane soliloquies. When struck in this manner, the unfortunate target of her attentions is gripped by a sudden stupor, forgetting what they were doing and dropping all previous matters to stare vacantly ahead of them. Interacting with them will jostle most people from this temporary curse, though the longer they are left alone, the harder it becomes to pull them from the day-dream. Again, this spell has no immediate outside effect on Javiyah, though her soul and mind are forever warped ever more. Her mood dims and she falls deeper into despair at knowing what could have been.

The Hanged Man [A Darkest Dungeon Inspired RP]

@Lauder It's very late where I am, will get cracking tomorrow! Love the intro.

The Hanged Man [A Darkest Dungeon Inspired RP]

@Blitzy Sombre characters? Whatever do you mean? 😎

The Hanged Man [A Darkest Dungeon Inspired RP]

@Lauder Did you glean anything new from Javiyah by the by? Not to rush, of course.

The Hanged Man [A Darkest Dungeon Inspired RP]

@Blitzy The esteemed GM has said their piece and I won't muck around with that wisdom. Personally, I don't mind if our characters are similar in concept. Write the character you want to make, even if that means I might not get accepted because there's ultimately only room for one Deckard Cain character like that. You do you, basically. <3

(triggerwarning: opinions)