Dustdevil sat himself at the end of a bar by the wall in a dimly lit pub, "The Pale Pig". Shadows danced across patrons' foamy mugs and onto the walls surrounding them to the rhythm of flickering candle lights. The air was stagnant, smelling of stale beer and a bit of mold. Dustdevil preferred these locations like this. Unconcerned and well off the beaten path, people who came here meant to be here; and people who mean to be here are for drink and quiet. No prying eyes, brown noses, or running mouths are to be found at The Pale Pig. Dustdevil leaned over the bar and signaled to the bartender for a mug. The bartender nodded his head in acknowledgement as he finished drying a mug with a damp table cloth, leaving it with a slight film that was not there before. The Bartender poured the beer fresh from the barrel into the mug, overfilling the head of the mug so that suds ran down the side of the glass in streams. He placed a napkin in front of Dustdevil, and placed the mug down onto it hard, practically slamming it. The beer with in splashed side to side within the mug as more suds rolled down the sides of the glass. Dustdevil could taste the aroma of it as he raised the glass to his mouth. Pungent, stale, and yet somehow flavorless. They were watering down the brew, again. Were it not for the atmosphere, location, and cheap prices at The Pale Pig Dustdevil would probably never have comeback after the first time.
A few more patrons entered the pub as Dustdevil placed his mug back onto the napkin. That's a thing here, not placing the mugs directly on the rotten, sticky bar top. One man was glassed by the bartender for it after he defiantly did so twice, before being thrown out onto the street. Dustdevil slyly peeked at them from over his shoulder, no one worth noting. Dustdevil took another sip of his mug and noticed writing on the wet napkin in front of him. It seemed to be being written by a phantom pen as he watched. Fortunately, Dustdevil could read the message just fine even though the makeshift parchment was soaked. Stuffing the soggy napkin into his vest pocket, Dustdevil used his mug to push the mug of nearby patron's off the man's napkin while he was talking to a another. Dustdevil dropped two coppers into the glass alerting the bartender as he left The Pale Pig. Dustdevil could here the Bartender scolding the poor man as he closed the pub's door behind him and walked out into the dark, dirty street. Checking the napkin a second time to affirm the location, Dustdevil set off for Central Park with haste, a light trail of twirling particulate pursuing him.
Aspect of the Hunter:"Dustdevil" Naboris can communicate with the wind. He can track anything outdoors and hear things from miles away. Naboris is unaffected by wind resistance and in combat all of his movements are quicker, while all his enemies seem to move slower when standing near you. Naboris can also choose to have greater wind resistance when falling or being knocked back. From far distances Naboris can't be seen through the trail of dust that constantly follows him.
Stats: Strength – C Vitality – C Skill – A Knowledge – B Bloodlust – D Darkness – A
Skills: Gunsmith Sleuth
Inventory: Hair: A bullwhip made of braided leather and steel cord, reaching up to 6 meters in length. While the steel cord gives Hair a nasty bite, it’s true lethality is not as a whip. Upon adjusting a small knob at the bottom of the handle the steel cord with was once limb and serpentine becomes tense and stiff. The cord retracts in both diameter and length until it is merely 4 meters long in length and ranges from an inch thick at the start to a needle thin point, forming an extremely long and thin estoc-like weapon. The tightened steel has superb tensile strength, only bending just before it breaks.
Shortbuss: A single shot pistol, with a unique over and under design and an enlarged barrel allowing it to fire rounds typically reserved for a blunderbuss. It lets Naboris bring the punch of a blunderbuss to a fight in the package of a pistol.
Name: Naboris Narrows Title:Dustdevil Age: 32 Sex: Male Backstory:
Naboris Narrows was born to a lower middle class family consisting of a Franz Narrows and a Varvara Narrows. Naboris' father, Franz, was a gunsmith by trade while his mother, Varvara, was a housewife. Naboris was an only child, his mother having had several miscarriages before him. In truth, Naboris' conception and birth were surprising to the Mr. and Mrs. Narrows, who had resigned to their apparent fate of being childless and stopped trying long before. Naboris was both a welcomed surprising and source of great concern for the crestfallen couple, ever worried by the peculiar birthmark that haunted their only child's left shoulder blade. Anyone could see that the birthmark had a design to it, far too intentional and clear in form to be by coincidence. The Narrows kept infant Naboris away from others well into his adolescence, at which time he had grown so used to the seclusion and secrecy that he began to hide himself away from the world.
Naboris was taught his father's trade by default, as he was the only child. Long hours in the basement of his father's shop was the perfect solution to the problem of concealing a boy from the world. Naboris minded his isolation, as any young boy would, but did not push the matter. He had already grown accustomed to it, and by the age of nine had stumbled upon a second, more unnerving quirk. A quirk which he felt was a perversion of nature itself, if the consequence of merely having a queer mark upon his back was anything to judge by. Naboris, frightened of himself, said not a word to either parent hoping to bury his blight with forgetfulness. If he didn't think about it, if no one knew about it, the young Naboris thought that it might just disappear one day; perhaps taking the mark that had plagued his existence along with it. Naboris decided to dedicate himself heart and soul to his father's trade to that effect, hoping for a change.
As time passed and Naboris grew older, urgency to forget his abnormalities passed. It was no longer a continuous effort to ease his mind from the burden of being strange, Naboris just didn't concern himself with it anymore. He ,and his parents, now saw it as just a fact of life. No doubt Naboris' concealment of a deeper oddity helped, but it really didn't matter anymore. Naboris spent less time toiling away in the basement and more time working at the counter of the shop, even running errands on occasion in the evenings. At the same time, requests for unusual work on firearms began to come in from a small group of clients. While the men, and one women, never entered the shop together, or even hinted at being affiliated, Naboris and Franz noticed that their initial orders all came in during the span of a week. All custom work, either bizarre designs that seemed impractical for use by a normal person, or modifications to preexisting firearms that seemed entirely unnecessary. Once the requests for unconventional firearms stopped, the requests for repair work and general maintenance piled up. Franz Narrows became concerned over his new, small flock of customers. They paid a premium, for which Franz never turned down a request, but he couldn't think of how these people where getting so much use out of such odd, sometimes entirely impractical firearms. Meanwhile, Varvara Narrows began to fret over the rising rate of murder and disappearances in their part of town. Franz did ponder aloud to Naboris to whether or not there was a connection between the rise of worrisome events and the new clients strange requests, but quickly silenced himself and told Naboris not to utter a word of it to his mother.
It was a hot, summer afternoon that Naboris' secret was discovered. Fraz and Varvara told Naboris that they were running an errand together, though he was certain it was a date. Business had been slow that day, and so Naboris retreated to the basement to work on another odd order. The heat of the day mixed with the heat of his work, and so Naboris took off his shirt to help keep cool. Naboris was unconcerned with keeping watch over the shop as he could hear anyone enter through the thin floor boards. Naboris was wiping the sweat from his brow when he heard a man utter a long "Uhhh..." from behind him. Naboris stiffened up and froze like a thief caught red handed. Naboris slowly turned around, surprised that he had not heard the man enter the store and descend down the stairs to the basement. "Y-yes?", Naboris asked, too nervous to question the man as to why he felt so inclined as to trespass into the basement. "Is this the shop of a Mr. Franz Narrows?", asked the man. "Yes", Naboris responded, "But he is out for the day. I am his son, Naboris. I can handle any business you may have". Naboris felt cornered in the basement, a room which once served as a fortress of solitude. As the man began to speak Naboris began to take in his appearance. Something was... "Off" about him. Uncanny, even. "So, he won't be back then, a pity... May I ask you something, boy?" The man said as he took a step closer. Naboris had not realized just how imposing the stranger's height was until he took that step, but now his was looming in. "How did you get such a strange mark down your back?". Naboris blinked for a moment, "Uhh, it was a brand. Requested by a client. My father heated it to mark the stock of a rifle with, but I was not paying attention and backed into it as he pulled it from the furnace. Left a nasty burn -as you can see.". The man seemed to think to himself for a moment, then his face lit up and his demeanor changed. "Fair enough! I'll return on the morrow, Mr. Narrows should be back by then, right?" He did not wait for an answer as he turned around and began to climb the stairs. As he ascended the final step he called down to Naboris "I'll see you again, boy!", and left the store. Naboris begin to sweat doubly in anxiety as he put his shirt on and returned to the counter upstairs, unsure of what to do.
It was early in the night when the Mr. and Mrs. returned home. Naboris had just finished closing shop when, and his father asked him if there had been any costumers. Naboris told him of the only one, the uncanny man who let himself into the basement. Franz asked if he was one of the clients with odd requests, but Naboris reaffirmed that he did not seem like one of them and said that the man would return tomorrow. Naboris decided to leave out the bit about the man seeing his back, thinking that his poor lie may have worked. The family of three returned to their living quarters up stairs, ate dinner, then retired to their respective rooms. Naboris fell asleep quite easily, putting his mind to rest with the thought that the strange man might not return at all.
Naboris awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of a loud bang. He sat still in his bed for moment, thinking that the sound was a burglar in the shop down stairs. His father had much same thought and began yelling as he descended the stairs. Naboris jumped up and rushed to his door as he heard the deafening roar of gunfire from below and the screaming of his father in agony. Naboris opened his door and peered into the darkness of the unlit stairwell leading down into the shop below. All he could hear was a soft crunching sound, like that of a dog gnawing on a bone. Naboris found himself in a cold sweat as he attempted to call out into the darkness. He opened his mouth, but words would not come out. The silent gnawing of the night was broken by Naboris' mother crying his name as she stumbled of her room shivering in fear. The sound from below ceased as Varvara stepped on a creaky floor board. Naboris could not see past the thick veil of black below, but felt something starring back at him intently. Varvara latched onto Naboris' shoulder and peered down the stairs with a whimper, "F-Franz?" she beckoned meekly. As if on cue, something emerged from the darkness so quickly that it looked like a white blur. Naboris tried to push his mother back but was thrown back into his room by the impact of the unknown attacker. Naboris heard Varvara scream in terror for only a moment before she was silenced with the visceral sound of flesh being torn. Naboris propped himself up against his bad as he looked out through his doorway. Nothing. For perhaps a minute, there was nothing. No movement, visual or audible. Just then, blood seeped down the hallway and into his room. With it were the sounds of heavy feet pattering in on the damp floor. The creature peaked its head in through the door first, the rest of it's body following. It was a head taller than a man, skin hairless and pale, splashed with blood and other bodily matter. It's head and face looked like something between a man and rat, it's body was muscular but seemingly malnourished, with skin pulled so tight that it was nearly translucent and looked as though it might rip with every moment. As the horrid beast loomed closer, Naboris peered into it's eyes and recognized it immediately. It was the man from earlier today! He was now disfigured and morphed into something nightmarish monstrosity, but Naboris was certain.
The monster opened it's mouth slightly, and spoke through it's maws with a harsh, guttural sound "Youuu. Youuu, cooome to me, boy". Naboris inhaled deeply but felt strangled nontheless. He stood up and immediately dash over his bed for the window. It was a two story drop, but anything was more feasible than surviving this beast head on. Naboris' fingertips did not so much as touch the window pane before he was pinned down on his stomach by the monster. It ripped at his shirt leaving a nasty wound on his right side. Naboris struggled futilely as the beast's maw neared the back of his neck. Then, suddenly, the beast was on his back no more. Naboris felt it hit the ground with a thud, and turned around to see it dragged to the center of his room by a shining, metalic rope and was wrapped around it's neck. At first one man, then another, and finally a women rose up from the darkness of of the stairway leading into the shop. The women shot the struggling beast in the head with a blunderbuss, only seeming to anger it was small traces of blood splattered from the top of it's skull. "Its tougher than expected", she complained as she drew a long, thin blade of some kind and began stabbing it. One of the men joined in on butchering the beast with a saw like weapon, while the last man restrained it with the metal rope which Naboris could now see was some kind of whip. In moments the beast was practically drawn and quartered right there in his room. Naboris found breathing hard as he went into shock, slumping over his bed with his back the trio. "The Narrows boy, he he is marked", said the women. Naboris peered over his shoulder and looked back at the three, recognizing them as three of the shop's unusual clients. "We should take him then, there is nothing here for him now.", Said one of the men. "Let us make haste then. We'll have to burn it, too"
Two of the Hunters hurried the injured and scared Naboris out of the shop by the back as the third set fire to it. Naboris looked back only for a moment before passing out.
Aspect of the Hunter:"Dustdevil" Naboris can communicate with the wind. He can track anything outdoors and hear things from miles away. Naboris is unaffected by wind resistance and in combat all of his movements are quicker, while all his enemies seem to move slower when standing near you. Naboris can also choose to have greater wind resistance when falling or being knocked back. From far distances Naboris can't be seen through the trail of dust that constantly follows him.
Stats: Strength – C Vitality – C Skill – A Knowledge – B Bloodlust – D Darkness – A
Skills: Gunsmith Sleuth
Inventory: Hair: A bullwhip made of braided leather and steel cord, reaching up to 6 meters in length. While the steel cord gives Hair a nasty bite, it’s true lethality is not as a whip. Upon adjusting a small knob at the bottom of the handle the steel cord with was once limb and serpentine becomes tense and stiff. The cord retracts in both diameter and length until it is merely 4 meters long in length and ranges from an inch thick at the start to a needle thin point, forming an extremely long and thin estoc-like weapon. The tightened steel has superb tensile strength, only bending just before it breaks.
Shortbuss: A single shot pistol, with a unique over and under design and an enlarged barrel allowing it to fire rounds typically reserved for a blunderbuss. It lets Naboris bring the punch of a blunderbuss to a fight in the package of a pistol.
