Username: punchbuggi Age: 24 Gender: Female Main: Vi
Appearance: She has a muscular, well-toned build and stands at around 5’7”. Her typical work and work-out clothes consist of a matching set of baggy, jersey shorts and sports bra. They are a bright, buttery-yellow in color, and the shorts have a red stripe going down either side.
True Appearance: Vi’s gauntlets appear on her arms, as well as a metal pack on her back connected to the gauntlets. This pack helps Vicki suspend the gauntlets, and they also have jet boosters sticking out to propel her quickly, as well as allowing for short-term flight. Vicki’s hair also grows longer with more streaks of pink appearing.
Powers: Blast Shield: Vicki can slam her fists together to temporarily create a force barrier. Usable outside of her True Form. Vault Breaker As Vicki winds up a powerful punch, her gauntlet increases in size before blasting forward for a single, devastating blow. Only usable in True Form. Denting Blows Vicki gains superhuman strength and durability. This doesn’t use up Vicki’s prana, but she’s still prone to fatigue and exhaustion like anyone else. Usable outside of her True Form. Strength is vastly increased in True Form. Excessive Force Vicki punches a foe or object, damaging it, as well as sending out a shockwave that damages anyone or anything behind it. Vicki can also punch the ground to send out a shockwave all around her. Usable outside of her True Form. Assault & Battery Vicki boosts forward as she winds up a powerful punch, activating her shield for protection during the charge. Her gauntlet increases in size before letting loose a powerful uppercut. Only usable in True Form.
Personality: Vicki oozes with confidence, this is her defining characteristic. There are very few things she has failed at in life, but not from things being handed to her. She has worked for and earned everything she owns and has accomplished.
Vicki is never content with herself. She must always push herself further, become better. Not just in boxing, but in every area of her life. She must be funnier, more likeable, prettier, a better, more efficient business woman, she must be more loving and caring, more selfless, more everything.
Constantly seeking out challenges for herself leads to Vicki being knocked down by life very often. She is not the type to simply lie down and give up, she will always rise up to the occasion. Her hard-headed attitude can get her and those around her into unnecessary situations, though.
Vicki has exceptionally high standards for herself, and expects everyone else to be their best as well. Her constant pushing of herself doesn't detract from her personality though. She is magnetic, charismatic, and easily liked by everyone. Curiously, she keeps everyone at arm’s length. She’s warm and friendly, but isn’t known for being open and intimate with others.
Short Biography: Vicki is the daughter of retired, world-renowned boxer, Victor Victory. He won't tell his daughter if that's their real name or not, but Vicki’s certain it isn't. Her father always did have a penchant for the theatrical.
After retirement, Victor opened up his own boxing gym, teaching others the ways of a champ. Vicki never bothered going to college after high school, as she works in and helps run her father’s gym. She has also taken after her father’s passion for boxing, spending even her free time there to hone her skills.
Being the daughter of a legend, most people would feel crushed under the weight of the pressure to accomplish something equally as amazing as their celebrity parents. Vicki simply looks at it as an opportunity to cast her own shadow further than her father ever did.
Due to the competitive nature and high learning curve of League of Legends, Vicki took to the game very easily and plays at least one game a night. Her main? Obviously Vi.
Username: XxDarkKnightxX Age: 28 Gender: Male Main: Hecarim
Appearance: Raze is a tall man, standing at approximately 6’3”. Despite his height, Raze’s build is fairly average. He is neither skinny nor heavy, neither scrawny nor muscular.
His hair is jet-black and wavy. It is long, extending down below his ears, and is typically unkempt, even while he is at work.
Raze always looks exhausted. Not from lack of sleep, but from world-weariness. He looks like a man that has given up on life, his neck and head tilted down. As he walks, his fists are always clenched. Not tightly, but just enough to cup his thumbs.
His usual attire consists of wrinkled suits, mainly of black or grey colors.
True Appearance:
Powers: Warpath: Raze is naturally able to run faster than normal, topping out at 60 mph. Rampage: Raze is able to summon Hecarim’s glaive at will, using it with Hecarim’s skill and experience. Additionally, the longer Raze is in combat, the stronger his blows become. Spirit of Dread: Raze absorbs the prana of nearby beings, using it to restore his own prana, as well as heal his injuries Devastating Charge: Only able to use this in his True Form, Raze boosts his running speed even further, gathering more momentum for a devastating blow. Only sufficient force or an immovable object could hope to stop his charge. Onslaught of Shadows: Only able to use this in his True Form, Raze summons Ghost-warriors to fight by his side. If Raze activates this while already using Devastating Charge, his velocity will increase to sound Barrier-breaking speeds, and end his charge with an explosion of spectral energy. Only an immovable object could hope to stop this move.
Personality: Raze is extremely distrusting of people, only seeing the bad in the world and the people that inhabit it. He is a short-tempered individual, becoming a loud and outspoken man after years of keeping quiet under his parents and peers. Raze never made the conscious decision to be selfish, but typically only takes action if it will benefit him in some way. He is impatient and tackles conflict head on, hating to leave anything unattended to.
Raze is indeed a cynicist and keeps people at arm’s length, but some small part of him deep down inside hopes that there is good somewhere in humanity.
Short Biography: Raze’s past has been fraught with backstabbing and betrayal against him. At every turn, his attempts to forgive, forget, and reconcile have been met with more and more reason to distrust those around him, leading him to conclude that man was selfish and untrustworthy, and that Raze should simply respond by acting in kind.
Raze’s parents were both very successful and accomplished professionals in their fields. This allowed Raze to live a very comfortable childhood, but left them with hardly any time to actually spend together. One day, Raze came down the stairs to find all of his belongings packed into bags. He was unceremoniously being shipped off to a private school on the other side of the country.
With his underdeveloped social skills and care for others, Raze had a difficult time making friends. The one person he thought would be his friend ended up leading him to some back alley to be mugged.
Finishing with high school, Raze went off to the University of Darkwell, studying Psychology, and earning his doctorate and certification by age 26. He opened his own practice to help others escape from their suffering, but he only became more and more jaded as people shared the terrible things they had done with him.
Things looked like they would turn around when he finally met the love of his life. At age 27, he proposed, and she said yes. The month before their wedding though, Raze caught her cheating on him with one of her coworkers.
Using entertainment as a means of escape, Raze has been an avid gamer since a young age. Upon its release, Raze became enthralled with the game League of Legends and plays it to this day.
Three Dragons in hand already. Fox had never even seen one of these legendary coins, and now he had a bag that contained three of them. A smart man could live off of these three coins for a long, long time. Fox could just take the money now and leave, live the rest of his life in relative peace. He could give up bounty hunting, even sell the farm, and just hide away somewhere. Maybe...maybe he could take his family with him and take care of them. Last he heard, they were still working the farms in Isthia.
Or...Or I can do the job and get more of these beauties.
Fox was sitting outside the tavern that Eolas and the rest of the crew had met at. He watched them all depart, a mismatched crowd of killers tailing an aging Ventus scholar. I’ve ne’er seen such a ridiculous sight in me life. From the tavern’s porch, Fox could just barely make out the boat they were settled on in the distance. Right about now, the mercenaries were likely being offered the same deal Fox was mulling over: 3 Dragons for silence, and more for the actual job.
Tch, some job. We don’t even know if the Eye of Yizzy-Gravel even exists. This is prob’ly a wild goose chase...
On top of that, taking on this job meant returning to Vrent. For anyone else, that’s no issue. For Fox though...it meant even more danger for himself. Plus, that meant an added risk for anyone else that decided to take this crazy offer. If he takes the job, should he tell the others? Keep it to himself? If Fox revealed that there were men looking for him, it meant revealing his true identity, which may just put him in even more danger. A bounty hunter such as himself may just consider turning a colleague in for a chance at a reward.
Fox reached into his left coat pocket and pulled out a polished silver flask. If it comes t’ that, I’ll let ‘em know. Fer now...3 Dragons is a lot. But more Dragons are better. Jus’ need t’ wait fer th’ol’ man ‘n th’ gang. He uncorked the flask and took a hefty swig from it, the burning taste of the liquid swirling in his mouth and throat. Looking back over to Eolas’ boat, Fox noticed they were pulling back to the docks. It was time to give Eolas an answer, and to meet his companions for this adventure.
Fox arrived just as two Ulla skittered up to the docks, likely being transportation arranged by the old Ventus. The enormous spider-like beings always made Fox a bit nervous, but he would hold off the fright for his first meeting with the others. There were few better way to damage your reputation as a battle-hardened bounty hunter than by revealing a fear of spiders.
Fox finally strode into view of the others, getting his first good look at everyone’s faces. There was a very young man that dressed as a gallant knight, but his demeanor didn’t seem to match his appearance. Fox would have to keep an eye on this one. Walking uneasily along the docks was a Herwenian man carrying a bow, doing his best not to puke up his guts. Out of the group, the most imposing figure was a Venar warrior strutting with animalistic power in his gait. This’ll be interesting. Thankfully, there was one that was actually shorter than Fox: a dark-skinned, elderly woman. She may have looked small and frail, but her expression and air reeked of dangerous experience. Fox wouldn’t have been surprised if she was the most dangerous of the bunch. The last of the mercenaries were two towering human males: one a scrawny lad stinking of academia, and the other a heavily armored warrior bearing a broadsword. Fox had never seen such a vastly different band of fellows.
Fox breathed in and prepared to deliver his performance. With his left arm, Fox handled his cane blade, the metal tip thumping against the wood of the docks with every step. With his free hand, he reached for his bowler hat and held it against his chest. Fox bared a friendly grin beneath his massive mutton-chop goatee, then bowed extravagantly.
Purposely reducing the thickness of his accent, Fox delivered his greetings with perfect polish and manner, “Greetings, my fellow soldiers of fortune! A pleasure to meet you all.” Fox straightened his posture back to normal, still clutching the hat to his chest. “I am...Malcolm DuBeaux. Gentleman. Plantation Owner. And Bounty Hunter.” Still smiling, Fox turned to look straight at Eolas, “My friend, Eolas...if you haven't guessed already, I would be more'n happy to take up a chance to see the Eye of Yvazgrul for m'self, and to earn a few more Dragons in the process.”
Alias: Malcolm DuBeaux, “The Gentleman Bounty Hunter”
Race & Gender: Human Male
Age: 39
Appearance:
Approximately 5’6”, with a stocky build. Due to the nature of his work, Donovan exercises regularly and keeps up strength training, making him fairly muscular for his stature.
Donovan has a jagged, rough face with tanned, pink skin. He looks permanently sunburnt, but it’s simply a combination of his natural complexion mixed with the sea air and sun of Throngale (Throngale info below.) He has a large, square jaw that juts out at the chin.
He has eyes the color of murky ocean water, hidden under the shadow of a protruding, straight brow ridge. His eyebrows are thick and bushy, always filled with flecks of white. This is easily confused for dandruff, but it’s salt from his proximity to the ocean.
Donovan has light, greasy black hair. On his head, he keeps it somewhat short, slicking it back on all sides, the ends trailing into a curl at the back of his neck. In order to conceal his appearance, he has recently grown thick mutton chops that connect into a mustache. He keeps his beard and goatee neatly combed, matching the appearance of his hair.
Despite life as a bounty hunter, Donovan has an approachable face. He isn’t constantly smiling, but he gives off an easy-going air, his eyes bright and alert as if he knows something you don’t. The bridge of his nose curves inward, ending with nostrils and a nose pointed slightly upward.
Hardly anyone ever sees it, but he has a tattoo of the silhouette of a murkroot. The bulb and leaves start at his elbow, while the roots grow and spread out all along his arm, snaking their way up to his shoulder to a wild mass of tendrils.
Inventory
Clothing / Armor:
Donovan has two stand-out items in his usual wardrobe: a black bowler hat and a dark, indigo suit jacket with coattails. On both sides of the front of his coat are a column of 4 gold-colored buttons with ornate carvings. These have no function, being more for show than anything else.
Beneath the coat, Donovan wears a maroon vest, buttoned-up completely. The vest is worn over a wrinkled, white dress shirt, as well as a black tie. Lastly, Donovan dons a pair of black dress pants, accessorized with a reptile-skin belt, colored a speckle of brown, black, and white. The buckle is an copper, oval plate with spindly carvings around the outside.
Donovan doesn’t wear dress shoes. Instead, he wears black leather boots for durability, comfort, and ease of movement.
Donovan hides the fact that, underneath his clothes, he wears chainmail armor to protect his torso at all times (except when he sleeps and bathes). Aside from this, Donovan wields a buckler (explained below), and wears an iron armguard on his right forearm.
Weapons & Equipment:
Cane Blade - “Th’ simplest approach is usually th’ best approach.” A standard issue weapon of the Sabers, Donovan still holds onto his own cane blade, but he has modified its appearance to conceal its origin.
The cane blade is a long, thin shortsword, approximately three to four feet in length, being tailor-made to its user. The blade is concealed within a simple black, wooden scabbard that doubles as a cane. At the end of the scabbard is a brass tip, while two brass rings circle around near the sheath. The handle of the blade itself is also simple and made of brass.
Donovan has had the handle replaced with an ornate carving of a wolf’s paw, made of silver. The toes of the paw curve slightly, allowing for an easier grip. The scabbard has been painted over to resemble a mahogany finish.
Flintlock Pistols - “Reloading these things is a right pain in the arse, butcha only e’er need one shot.” To complement his blade for close combat, Donovan carries with him two flintlock pistols.
The flintlock is the latest in modern warfare. Rare weapons only seen among the wealthy or among government officials, Donovan still carries his flintlock from his time as a Saber. His second flintlock was purchased from a black market merchant that harbored in Throngale for a night.
His main flintlock is kept in a leather holster on the left side of his hip. The secondary is kept on a chest holster, laying across his left breast.
Donovan’s preferred firearm, hiis Saber-issued flintlock is simple design, made primarily of wood. The structure indicates cheap production over fanciful decoration.
His secondary flintlock, purchased from an illegal vendor. The exquisite ornamentation and metals probably mean this was stolen from some noble. It also has the exotic quality of containing three separate barrels.
Donovan does not dual-wield both flint-locks like a fool. He keeps two on his person in case he needs a quick second shot.
Flintlock Rifle - “I prefer my work done up close, but sometimes, you don’t get to choose yer circumstances.” A specialty weapon, Donovan has had experience using these before while on the Sabers. However, these were not standard-issue due to their expensive costs to produce, only being requisitioned for specific operations. Donovan has purchased this one legally from a weapons store in Throngale.
Donovan rarely ever brings, let alone uses, this rifle, but he is still a skilled enough marksman to land a shot from a distance. He has tied a strap to the barrel and stock, allowing him to carry it on his back.
Derringer - “Don’t let people know yer the most dangerous man in th’ room.” Another exotic weapon purchased off a seedy merchant through illegal means, this is a miniaturized version of the common flintlock pistol, it only measures three inches from barrel to butt. Donovan keeps this hidden up his right sleeve, attached to a spring-loaded mechanism. By pressing down on a switch near his right elbow, Donovan can release the spring, extending the Derringer directly into his hand from the sleeve.
The spring was custom-made and set Donovan back a Lily and a Blood, and he has only actually used it once, but the one occasion saved him in a barfight turned fatal. Donovan would argue that his life is definitely worth more than that.
Buckler - “This thing has saved me life more’n once...it always leaves me with a sore wrist, though.” A simple iron buckler Donovan wears on his left forearm, attached by two leather straps. The buckler is thin and light enough to wield with some agility in combat, while large enough to cover Donovan’s face and neck.
However, its thin design means it’s not going to block any heavy weapons such as axes or longswords, as they’ll simply break through the metal. Arrows are able to pierce through, but the buckler should prevent them penetrating through completely. It is strong enough to block distant shots from flintlocks as well as the common shortsword, including the cane blade.
In combat, Donovan typically uses his buckler to deflect or glance blows, rather than outright taking the hit. Additionally, he can use the buckler to unleash a backhand swipe powerful enough to knock out most people.
Other Equipment -Iron dagger he keeps strapped to his left thigh (“Y’always need a back-up.”) -Bag of ammunition for his flintlock weapons -Kept in his coat pocket, a silver flask filled with…(“It’ll knock yeh on yer arse, s’all ye need t’know.) -Leather satchel, strapped across his shoulder and hanging on his right side. Filled with necessary equipment, such as...
-Parchment and charcoal sticks for writing/drawing -Set of simple lockpicking tools, nothing fancy. (“Fer when a swift kick o’ th’boot is too loud.”) -Counterfeit ℘ragon's Heads (“Hopefully I never meet ‘em again.”) -Cloths and rags -Whetstone -Bandage wraps, healing ointments, and herbal medicines for minor injuries -Canteen of water -Drawings of his family, kept safe in clasp of boiled leather -A loaf bread -Various cheeses -Salted meats
Wallet: “That’s none o’ yer damn business now, is it?” (Donovan is by no means wealthy, but his savings from life as a Saber, the farm he currently owned, and success as a bounty hunter has kept him living comfortably.)
Skills:
Swordsman: Years of practiced combat as a Saber and a bounty hunter has left Donovan as a highly advanced swordsman. He’s not nearly as fast as he was in his youth, but he’s a smart fighter, not a ferocious nor a fast one.
Marksman: When close-up work isn’t an option, Donovan is a deadeye with a gun. He prefers using his pistols, but Donovan’s able to snipe from a few hundred yards away with his rifle.
Detective: Still able to use and hone his Saber skills as a bounty hunter, Donovan knows how to obtain, understand, and piece together evidence. Actual hunters thrive on pursuing creatures in the wilds, while Donovan is a hunter of civilized men.
Scholar of Truths: Donovan still has a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of Vrent’s Truths and how they all interact with one another, allowing him to get through loopholes wherever they are.
Interrogator/Charmer: More skills he picked up as a Saber and utilizes as a bounty hunter, Donovan knows how to make a man talk through carefully applied pain and psychological torment, as well as how to steer a friendly conversation towards the information he wants.
Amateur Sneak: Donovan can’t move around as deftly as a practiced thief, but he can remain quiet and still when it counts. He’s also able to lockpick his way into poorly guarded buildings, such as small stores and households. Anything with a serious lock is out of his league. Or he just tries kicking it down.
Fabricator: With almost a decade of lying about his identity under his belt, Donovan is a convincing liar.
Brawler: Don’t challenge him to a fistfight. He’ll lay your @$$ out.
Personality:
Let’s first address Donovan’s life as a new man. He prefers the “hiding in plain sight” approach. Donovan is cautious with every step he takes, but he’s not a hermit, nor is he excessively secretive. He has a completely made up history for his new identity and will stick to it, trusting that he won’t be discovered unless he comes face-to-face with old friends or family. He is open about owning a farm, and about being a bounty hunter.
Donovan is a charismatic individual, known to be very friendly and approachable. Even with total strangers, Donovan makes those around feel as if they’ve known him all their life. This is partly due to his natural self, as well as a necessity to keep anyone from suspecting him of being more than Malcolm DuBeaux. This makes him a good drinking buddy!
Despite such a devastating betrayal in his life, Donovan still believes in upholding justice. He just needs to go about it differently than he had been for 12 years of his life. He acknowledges that the justice system is not perfect, but it still needs to be in place for the people of Vrent. A few corrupt people doesn’t make the whole system corrupt.
Life has given him a more realistic perspective on the world, but he’s still optimistic about humanity.
He dearly misses his old life, especially the family he left in Isthia, but Donovan has accepted his new life as Malcolm DuBeaux.
Donovan acts excessively chivalrous and well-mannered as part of his Malcolm DuBeaux persona.
History:
Donovan grew up happily in a farming community. He wanted to be a hero like the ones from stories he heard every night. Him and his family saved up to send him off to Vrent. On his first day, Donovan was mugged by two guys, then saved by Bulwark Finnigan (a Bulwark is a cop basically.) Donovan immediately idolized Finnigan, and wanted to become a Saber (Saber is a normal cop, Bulwark is a captain/detective.) Finnigan adopted Donovan and became like a father. Finnigan payed for Donovan to go to private school, studying to become a Saber. Donovan graduated, applied to become a Saber, and was accepted. Finnigan had Donovan transferred to his unit, and they served together for years. Eventually, Donovan was nominated to move up and be promoted to Bulwark. Finnigan represented Donovan, explaining to the higher-ups why Donovan should be a Bulwark. Donovan was accepted, becoming a full-fledged Bulwark. Early on in his career as a Bulwark, Donovan picked up on a conspiracy, finding evidence that Finnigan, his adopted father, was helping criminals get out of punishment. Donovan brought this to the court with a mountain of evidence, but Finnigan got off free, probably pulling some strings. Finnigan threatened Donovan’s life, so Donovan fled to a far away city, where he lived as a bounty hunter for years.
Fox O’Donovan was born in and grew up in one of the many farming communities that made up Isthia, fifth out of seven children. Both of his parents worked as workers tending to the fields of murkroot, who have literally spent more than half of their lives toiling in the water and muck. The O’Donovans never struggled to survive, but every member, including the children, had to put in more than their share of hard work to put food on the table. Donovan remembers working ever since he was able to walk.
A hardy, leafy bulb that only grows in shallow marshes. The bulb is similar in taste and nutrition to the common potato, with large, oar-shaped leaves growing off the top of it that are also edible. The bulb floats on the surface of the water, with thick tendrils of roots reaching down through the water, planting itself in place.
As a child, Donovan’s parents would read stories to him and his children every night. Being farmers, they couldn’t afford many luxuries without risking food being absent for a few days. Thankfully, a passing merchant traded a musty storybook for a few of their murkroots. And so, the O’Donovan family would hear about the many adventures and triumphs of fictional heroes, the Vindicators of Truth, battling against the malevolent spawn of darkness.
The young Donovan grew up happy and content in his childhood. His family loved him, there was usually food to eat, and he made friends with the other farmers’ children. He wanted more out of his uneventful life though; he wanted to fight evil just like the heroes from the stories he heard every day. Donovan would run around the marshes and rivers of his village, slashing at invisible monsters with a stick.
With the help of some of his older siblings, Donovan eventually saved up enough to travel to the Citadel, the best place to pursue his dream of fighting evil. Donovan gave a bittersweet farewell to his family, and left for Vrent’s Citadel.
Donovan arrived at the gates of Vrent, young, idealistic, and wide-eyed. He had never seen anything as big as the towering stone, never seen so many people crowded in one place, never experienced anything like the cultural melting pot that was Vrent. Neither had he experienced the cruel side of humanity. The naive young man approached some gentleman with the appearance of having lived in Vrent for some time, asking them for advice for a new resident. These two gentlemen eagerly agreed to show him around, and promptly escorted him to a nearby alley where they proceeded to beat him and take his belongings. Just as the muggers were taking the last of Donovan’s belongings, a couple of Sabers happened upon them, chasing off the muggers.
Enter Bulwark Finnigan, the man that fended off Donovan’s attackers. At that moment, Finnigan had engraved himself in Donovan’s mind as the ideal everyman’s hero. As Finnigan turned to pursue the muggers, Donovan stopped him, begging Finnigan to take him on as an apprentice. Finnigan was visibly confused, so Donovan explained to him his dreams and his situation. Finnigan took him in, unofficially becoming his new guardian.
Finnigan became like a father to Donovan, teaching him to adjust to life in the city. He also helped Donovan understand the darker side of man, due to his lack of real social experiences. Eventually, Finnigan used his own ℘ragon Heads to put Donovan into the Academy of Truth, a highly prestigious school for training those interested in joining the Vidril of Truths.
Donovan passed through the Academy with flying colors, eager to achieve his dream of fighting criminals and protecting the innocent. He applied to join the Sabers immediately upon finishing his schooling, and was promptly accepted, getting through the probationary period without any trouble. Donovan was officially a Saber of the Vidril of Truths. Proud of his adopted son, Finnigan requested to have Donovan transferred to his unit, continuing to mentor the young Saber.
Donovan excelled as a Saber, defending the Truths of Vrent and its citizens from crime, big and small. However, as he served through the years, he noticed every now and then that the Tribunal would let go criminals he had caught, despite having overwhelming evidence and eyewitnesses pointing towards them obviously breaking a Truth. Donovan simply dismissed it as the Tribunals being careful to not condemn an innocent man.
Due to his success and zeal in the line of work, Donovan was an obvious candidate to move up to Bulwark. Initially, Donovan suspected that Finnigan had been the one to nominate him, but he later found out that it was actually his fellow Sabers. This was especially surprising, considering that Donovan was both the youngest member of their group, as well as the one on the force for the shortest amount of time. Finnigan may not have been the one who recommended Donovan, but he was the one who represented Donovan. Finnigan never revealed what he wrote in the letter of recommendation, nor what he said in the interview. Regardless, Donovan was approved, advancing further in his dream career...Bulwark O’Donovan.
Unfortunately, Donovan’s career would be cut short as a result of him doing what he loved: his job. He was unrelentless is hunting down the most secretive of criminals. The years as a Saber had transformed Donovan into an efficient, well-oiled machine, a bloodhound that always sniffed out its prey. One of Donovan’s hunts had him catching the scent of a criminal on the inside of the Vidril of Truths. Everything started coming together for Donovan, why suspected criminals had gotten off without a conviction, why evidence seemed to go missing or go completely disregarded, everything.
Every crook he interrogated, every document he screened, every undocumented financial transaction he caught pointed to one logical conclusion, with one man at the center of it all: Bulwark Finnigan, likely with the help of others in the Vidril of Truth, would help criminals that paid him off get released without a conviction. Donovan didn’t want to believe it, but he did have to fulfill his duty. He gathered together all of the evidence he had and pushed the case forward to the Courts of Truth.
Donovan was given special permission to witness the Inquisition of Finnigan. The Inquisitor of the Offended let loose an unending torrent of proof, presenting every shred of proof without any possibility of refuting its validity. The Accused’s arguments were pitiful, only stating that this was possibly an elaborate conspiracy to frame Finnigan. The long-time Bulwark and father figure to Donovan was obviously guilty, and yet...the Tribunal declared Finnigan as innocent.
Dumbfounded, Donovan wandered into the hall outside the Court, staring at the wall. How could he have missed it, Finnigan would have needed accomplices working as Triunes to get criminals off scot-free. Now, he was using those same connections to get himself out of trouble. While Donovan continued to stare at the wall, Finnigan strode over to him and whispered,”I will kill you if I see you again.”
Those were the last words Donovan ever heard from Finnigan. Wasting no time, Donovan gathered all of his belongings and money, fleeing to Throngale, a backwater port town. For the past few years, he has lived there amongst the pirates and outlaws making a living as a bounty hunter, still pursuing his one-man war against crime.
Fearing that Finnigan would send someone to silence him, Donovan completely changed his identity. He changed his name, started growing a massive beard on his clean-shaven face, and remade his image.
Donovan ditched his uniform, trading it with some backwater tailor for an old suit and hat. With the money that he had, Donovan purchased a small, barely self-sufficient farm near Throngale, and hired a steward to watch over the farm while he worked on making a new name for himself as a new person. On the deed for the land, Donovan signed as his new identity: Malcolm DuBeaux.
A little less than a year into the farming business, Malcolm’s farm had barely made any progress, with no return on investment at all. He needed more capital simply to obtain the equipment and labor needed to start turning a real profit. Not exactly a business tycoon, Donovan walked the streets of Throngale, pondering over ideas. He couldn’t turn to loans, as it would draw attention to him if he wasn’t able to pay them back. No investor in their right mind would put money down on an almost failed farm. Donovan needed a lot of money, fast.
Strolling down the line of warehouses on Throngale’s docks, an idea was literally hanging on a wall, as if sent from heaven: a Wanted poster with a hefty reward at the bottom. Suddenly, Donovan’s old passions were rekindled. He would build the foundations of his new life on the skills of his previous self. The farm would be saved by his ability and desire to punish the wicked. And so began the successful career of the mysterious Malcolm DuBeaux; plantation owner by day, bounty hunter by night. And also day.
Years later, after building up his reputation as a famed bounty hunter, he was contacted by an unnamed individual, recruiting Donovan (Malcolm) for a lucrative job. The catch?
It was back in Vrent.
Throngale is a backwater port town, neighboring the far more successful, and far more orderly, Sfel. Throngale primarily deals with smaller ships and barges that are simply passing through, rarely handling any serious imports or exports aside from food and supplies for the town. Throngale is littered with taverns, brothels, casinos, theaters, and all other manner of ways for a sailor to let loose from days at sea. Just as any port or harbor city, Throngale is a hodgepodge of the many different cultures that pass through. Aside from shady “entertainment,” Throngale is actually well-known for its food and music. Chefs, cooks, and musicians from all around have settled in Throngale, enjoying the debauchery readily available, and set up their own restaurants and clubs. While not a large city like the Citadels near the mountains, Throngale has a thriving night life. While there are set Truths that citizens and visitors are expected to follow, Throngale does not have any Sabers that regularly patrol. Instead, citizens are expected to police themselves, punishing criminals not with jail, but with fist, gun, or blade. The closest thing Throngale has to an organized police force is a rag-tag band of militiamen and bounty hunters that look to punish known criminals.
Age 16 Sets off for and arrives at Vrent Gets mugged Gets saved and adopted by Finnigan Finnigan puts Donovan through school
Age 18 Donovan applies for the Sabers and is accepted
Age 25 Nominated for and becomes a Bulwark
Age 27 Begins to suspect a conspiracy involving Finnigan
Age 29 Pushes the case against Finnigan to the Courts of Truth Finnigan is declared Innocent, then threatens Donovan’s life Donovan flees the Vrent Citadel
Age 30 Donovan settles in Throngale, initially doing odd-jobs
Age 31 Donovan begins his career of bounty hunting.
Age 39 Donovan is contacted by an anonymous figure, promising an exceptionally well-paying job.
Other:
Amongst the farming communities of Isthia, each village has their own slang, common phrases, and tweaks in the accent. Overall though, Isthians have what we would consider an “Irish” accent.
Finnigan is 10 years older than Donovan. Finnigan had been helping out criminals since before he met Donovan, and was hoping to have Donovan “join the family business.”
Vicki turned to her father, her face matching her audible confusion,”Dad...I don’t know what happened.”
The giant of a man strode through the gym, his very presence demanding attention. “Bill, call an ambulance and check on Don. Everything’s fine people, it’s boxing, people get hurt,” he yelled out.
Mr. Victory crawled up into the ring through the ropes, slowing his pace as he approached his daughter. Vicki was examining her fist, flexing it. Despite his immense size, Mr. Victory gently took hold of his daughter’s arm, caressing it to feel for any abnormalities. “Does it hurt anywhere?”
“No dad, I’m fine. I don’t know how I did that though. Have you ever hit someone like that?”
Mr. Victory looked straight into his daughter’s eyes, his own blue eyes searching for something. Slight wrinkles around his face gave away that he was starting to age. Buzzed blonde hair formed a thin layer on his scalp, and a thick mustache matching in color furrowed with concentration. He grunted, “No. Seems like you might wanna cut back on the weight lifting.” Vicki let out a small chuckle, appreciating the humor.
“C’mon, let’s go back to the office. See what happened.”
Vicki followed her mountainous father through the gym to the corner office, settling in a wooden chair with green cushions. One of the walls still had its brick foundations exposed, holding a cork board covered in papers and documents, as well as pictures from Mr. Victory’s younger years. A single desk lamp illuminated the office, casting harsh light onto Vicki and her father. The room stank with smoke from cheap cigars.
“Alrighty, scrappy. Explain to me what happened.
Vicki shot a sly grin at her father. He knew she still hated that nickname. “I dunno, I hit a guy, and he got hurt.”
“Thank you, doctor, very good observation. How the hell did you hit him so hard?”
“I don’t know, honestly. Adrenaline?”
“I doubt it. I ain’t saying you’re not strong, but if I can’t hit a man that far, you shouldn’t be able to either. Maybe if you swung up at him hard enough, but I’m guessing went straight at ‘im, right?”
Vicki nodded,”I got pretty nice uppercut on him, you would’ve been proud. But the punch that sent him flying, yeah, that was a straight shot to the chest.”
Mr. Victory sat back in his chair, the lamp hitting only his lap now. “Alright, listen...ambulance is gonna come and take Don away. Hopefully he doesn’t press charges, but if he does, police are gonna come and ask some questions. I’ll explain that he got injured in a bout in the ring. Not assault, an expected injury he was aware of receiving. Don’t worry about anything, alright?”
Vicki nodded, looking down at her fists.
“Go ahead and take off outta here, go cool off and get some grub. Sound good, scrappy?”
She turned back to her father, “Sounds good to me.”
As she got up to leave, Mr. Victory leaned forward in his seat, pointing a finger at Vicki, ”You don’t have to worry about the police, but we ain’t done with this, alright?”
Vicki rolled her eyes, still smiling, “I’m not a kid any more, dad. I’m not gonna run away or anything, don’t worry.”
------
Figures.
Vicki decided to head to Cafe WiHi for some hot chocolate, but discovered that it had been closed down. Apparently it was the scene of some crime recently.
Steering away from the crime scene, Vicki settled on heading to the local diner. Most of their food was crap, but they had the best French toast she had ever eaten.
Passing through winding alleys and sidestreets, Vicki stumbled upon a little plaza with a large oak tree rooted in the middle of a large planter; the local landmark at Orchid Road. Leaves were falling all around the plaza, dancing in the wind. Definitely an Instagram-worthy moment.
At the base of the tree, two young men were sitting, either meditating or doing some kind of yoga. They looked to be either Seniors in high school, or just graduated.
Hipsters.
She continued past them, finally arriving at the diner. Vicki entered inside and sat down before a waitress could seat her, spreading her arms out across the back of her seat. The place was mostly empty anyway.
Seeing three workers, one a skinny blue-haired girl, one a tall, buxom woman, and the last a tall, skinny guy, Vicki waved them down, expecting at least one of them would see her.
”Hey dolls, could one of you come and help me out?” Vicki called out, her smile oozing with charm.
@Ellri Thanks for the advice. It's based in the Destiny universe, so it's sci-fi with a small smattering of fantasy elements. Any pointers on how to proceed in a setting like that?
Hey everyone. I'm interested in trying to make my own tabletop RP, but without using the framework of an existing game. Meaning, I'll be starting from scratch.
What are some tips and rules I should follow in trying to make a tabletop from scratch?
EDIT: My concern is mainly for how the rules and games play out, and less on story and lore. Narrative elements are mostly taken care of.
