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September 27, 2016 at 8:37 am #199629
The New England Town of Darkest.
Darkest, a town that lives up to its namesake, a place that permeates quaintness to the untrained eye but is bloated with rumors of its… objectionable past. Neon signs bleed their haze over the cobbles, the very stones that bore the burden of hundreds of grim-faced denizens holding their flickering candles against the encroaching dark. The Twenties whilst injecting industry and innovation into Darkest have only perpetuated the sickness of the Town’s history. Like a cancer, conjecture surrounding Darkest’s grim tidings spreads through each citizen’s home and across the surrounding moors and countryside. The airwaves hum with the whispering about some foul creature stalking the wilds. The paper reports of curious wonders of the East lining collector’s homes suddenly vanishing only to reappear in the strangest of circumstances. It is in this place, surrounded by mystery and bloodshed that you are drawn so ravenously, unable to shake the dread gnawing at the back of your mind and the chill that exhales across you spine. Your are bound to this place now… welcome… to Darkest.
A Guide to Darkest.Spoiler
Regal and grand this building is by far the most proud and impressive piece of architecture on the entire estate and Home to a Host of Academics, including the enigmatic Dean himself. Whilst next to nobody has seen the Dean he is well known to be exceedingly rich and a very generous benefactor for the Town of Darkest below, although his motivation for donating so forthcomingly is absent to the regular Town’s folk some suspect he has a close personal tie to the location itself. The University is also home to scholar-in-residence, Dr Lilith Edwards, fluent in a dozen languages, most of them dead she boasts the proudest collection of trinkets and curio from by-gone eras in the entire Town, the Townsfolk whisper of her history, supposedly wrapped in scandal. If you find something particularly mysterious… she’s the lady to talk to about figuring out what it is.
St. Junia’s Chapel.
While the building itself is modern, the age of the church is evident through the dates on the headstones that sit like sardines against each other in the packed graveyard. Whilst little-to-no elements of original church remain this modern Chapel caters to the spiritual needs of Darkest’s citizens. While controversial the Chapel is run by the no-nonsense Pastor Schmidt, a German migrant that some view with scrutiny due to the all to recent memory of the Great War. While a benevolent man he is not to mince his words.
Ms. Michelle’s Flophouse.
Whilst by no means as uncomfortable and uninviting as its namesake Ms. Michelle’s flophouse isn’t anywhere near luxurious either. What was once a humble bed and breakfast now operates as Darkest’s largest source of very basic accommodation. The term ‘apartment’ would be a generous description but rooms in this place offer four walls, a roof over your head and plumbing which is infinitely better than parking your keister in an alleyway. Ms. Michelle herself closely resembles a a typical school mistress and sits at the older end of the middle ages spectrum. Talk to her and you’ll surely be greeted with a cursory frown… maybe even some town gossip.
What was once a fairly average pub, complete with regular watery eyed patrons and sticky carpets is now a bright and inoffensive Diner. Prohibition means the place doesn’t serve booze but it’s the only joint in town to get a decent cup of coffee or some greasy breakfast food. Hook’s is run by a mountain of a Man and combat veteran called Chuck Anderson who sports a lovingly maintained silver horse shoe of a mustache, he looks somewhat out of place running a diner. What is beneath Hook’s however is the worst kept secret in the whole of Darkest. Hooked, the speakeasy in the basement is very selective about who it lets in, they’ve some questionable clientele and even more questionable products on sale. Whilst Hooked requires a passphrase to get into, word on the street is that it’s the place to be if you like to party with some powerful and dangerous individuals. It also serves Chuck’s homemade bathtub hooch, while the liquor is so potent you’d think it could strip wallpaper with its smell 50 yards away, it’s relatively cheap and potent enough to give you a buzz.
This is the only known Hospital in Darkest. Come here if you want to live. For a cost the good Doctors and Nurses of the place will alleviate what ails your body and mind. Supposedly the town of Darkest has long since poured funding into the advancement of medicine and the chemical and biological sciences. As such Paracelsus General is a surprisingly modern and well-staffed building capable of catering to the needs of those afflicted with injury and… the subtler rendings of the mind.
What was once a bustling community center is now a multipurpose hub for all things physical training. During the Great War the community center doubled as a barracks in which new recruits could train in preparation for combat using the facilities preexisting gymnasium. The ground floor of the building now serves as a center to train and hone one’s skills, complete with weights, a box ring and a firing range for those with licensed firearms. The top half of the building is now a Police Station where Chief Constable Rogers and a couple of handfuls of Constables and Detectives do their best to keep order. It’s rumored Rogers has been turning a blind eye to certain… unsavory operations but solid proof is yet to surface.
The Wolf’s Den.
Affectionately named such as it houses one of the most a nameless man with a big reputation. ‘The Wolf ‘in question is thought to be the head of the Russian Mob and by extension the most organized criminal enterprises in all of Darkest. The Wolf’s Den is part mansion part fortress, nobody knows how the Wolf and his pack amassed such a vast amount of wealth and frankly, nobody wants to know, easier to turn a blind eye and keep all your digits. The mansion itself lies some way to the edge of Darkest and is surrounded by a high stone wall, gated off and guarded. From the Docks to the Town itself, The Wolf always knows what’s going on and can make a useful friend… or terrible foe.
The Caravan Site.
Populated almost exclusive by British, Irish and other European migrants the Caravan site sits on a verge overlooking the town centre. While most of the local’s frown at the place thinking the caravans and their residents are something of an unwelcome eyesore the site itself borders the woods and is rife with rich cultural traditions and all manner of opportunities. The unofficial Mayoress of the place is referred to locally as ‘Lady MacBeth’ but the exact origins of why she’s compared to the Shakespearean character aren’t common knowledge.
The Patriot’s Delight.
Owned by Wesley Blanc the Patriot’s delight is there to sell you everything you need to keep your and yours safe! This gunsmiths has a wide selection of handguns, rifles, knives and ammunition all for a ‘modest’ charge, he is the most reliable and perhaps more importantly only legal way of purchasing weaponry but is stock isn’t very exotic. Wesley is something of a redneck and is irritating, excitable and a big fan of the second amendment. Be that as it may, the fellow knows his firearms inside and out. The Patriot’s Delight also has a large garage which houses the second portion of the business, the mechanics, run by Wesley’s twin sister Anna-Marie.[collapse]
The Denizens of Darkest.
Every Archetype starts with a certain amount of Resource. Resources reflect your character’s assets and can be anything from some sort of vehicle, to an established small business of theirs to connections with a particular group or faction. Resource is spent 1 for 1 and must be ‘spent’ upon character creation so the character’s assets are established instantly. Aside from some limitations, for example no character starts with a near bottomless bank balance and the Resource in question must fit your character personally, most Resource ideas are welcome and Players are encouraged to be creative with their decisions.
Being fashionable has never been more fashionable. Music, speakeasies, liquor and vice may be prohibited but they’ve never been more popular and in a world where these things are rife: the Class Act reigns supreme. Nobody else can master the subtle arts of social guile, charm and performance like the Class Act can and nobody else makes it look any easier. The Class Act is as sharp as a tack and anybody who is anybody wants to be their friend, because of that the Class Act is used to going where they please and getting what they want.
+ 3 Resources.
+ 1 Speakeasy Passphrase
+ 1 Handgun OR One-Handed Melee weapon.
+ 1 Instrument OR 1 Bottle of Expensive Booze.[collapse]
Croakers are your best chance of not dying. Doctors of all shapes and sizes, licensed or unlicensed, these people have the skill and the know-how to stop you from pushing up daisies. Many even branch off into other pursuits, the testing of chemicals and modern medicine laced with ancient herbal remedies and their effects on human biology. With violence and crime taking route, you’ll be glad to see the shining chrome of the Croaker’s scalpel.
+ 2 Resources.
+ 1 Doctor’s Bag including a Scalpel.
+ A Collection of Experimental Gas Grenades OR Handgun.[collapse]
Men and women of the cloth, begat of one of the world’s oldest institutions – religion. In a time of reckless abandon and faithlessness, the men and women of the cloth have never had clearer purpose. They see it as their duty to guide and shepherd the flock of humanity towards the light, be it through nurturing innate goodness or through merciless zealous conviction. Armed with holy purpose the Dutch Uncle or indeed Dutch Aunt devotes their time to fulfilling humanities spiritual needs and in turn, saving and soothing their souls… sometimes, even literally. There’s more than one way to help people, sometimes healing ailments, sometimes removing dangerous people.
+ 2 Resources.
+ Two-Handed Firearm (Non-Automatic only) OR Holy Relic.
+ Two-Handed Melee Weapon OR Doctor’s Bag.
+ One-Handed Melee Weapon OR Vials of Holy Water.[collapse]
Masters of the mind, an Egghead is someone who has donated countless hours, days, months, years and sometimes even decades to their intellectual pursuits. An Egghead’s mind in their greatest weapon, most open to the possibilities and potentials of the paranormal and extra-planar horrors that lay just beyond the mortal veil. The Egghead is fascinated by the limits of human understanding and will make it their personal mission to broaden and expand the mind’s petty limitations. As such they are the only ones capable of practicing the foul magical rituals associated of the occult, only after the existence of it has been truly affirmed to them however. They must be wary though, such profane rituals whilst powerful are never, ever without great cost
+ 2 Resources.
+ 1 Curious Artifact.
+ 1 Aged Tome OR Handgun.[collapse]
When it comes to the Prohibition just about everyone’s a criminal… still, not so many people choose to make a career out of it. Things that should be dealt under the table have never been in such wide supply and because of that these things have never been in such wide demand. From street thug to cat burglar to contract killer, if you need the law broken or a ‘questionable’ item procured then the Hoods are the ones to do it. Some like to get bloody while others prefer a stealthy approach, some strike out on their own and some have just the right criminal contacts, either way… nearly every Hood adheres to the philosophy “the end will justify the means.”
+ 2 Resources
+ 1 Two-Handed Firearm OR Handgun.
+ 1 Two-Handed Melee Weapon OR One-Handed Melee Weapon.
+ 1 Small Box of Contraband OR Speakeasy Passphrase.[collapse]
Every community has them, those hard-boiled guys and gals built like brick coal-houses who might be on the level but sure as heck aren’t on the up and up. If Palookas were animals they’d be beasts of burden, hardened and grizzled to the ways of the world with the constitution of and resilience of oxen because of it. Palookas have had their fat thrown into the fire on more than one occasion and because of that they’re as tough as old leather and all the meaner for it. You’ll find little to no genius’ or social butterflies in their ranks, a Palooka is often a social outsider who makes up for their mental and charismatic shortcomings with overwhelming hardiness and very considerable strength.
+ 1 Resource.
+ 1 Set of Brass Knuckles OR Bandages (Boxing Tape).
+ 1 Two-Handed Melee Weapon OR A Shotgun.
+ 1 Adrenaline Shot OR Speakeasy Passphrase.[collapse]
The Great War has hardened these former service men and women into machines. They’ve got the firepower and the training behind them to make sure they come out on top of any ‘less than amicable’ situation. Regardless of their former or existing position in the military Veterans know how to get the job the done and pride themselves on maintaining and honing their specialist skill-set, you can take the Soldier out of the battlefield but you can’t take the battlefield out of the soldier.
+ 2 Resources.
+ 1 Two-Handed Firearm.
+ 1 Weapon Modification (e.g. Telescopic Sight, Engineer’s Bayonet or Bipod).
+ 1 One-Handed Melee Weapon.
+ 1 Handgun OR A Pair of Grenades.[collapse]
PI’s, Detectives and Constables, few are singularly as practiced in the arts of tracking and investigation as these individuals. If you need someone found, you hire yourself a Gum-Shoe, if you need the law upheld, you hire find yourself a Gum-Shoe, if there’s a crime being committed or a mystery to be solved, you bet your ass that’s where you’ll find a Gum-Shoe. Some are in it for the money, some are in it for justice and some are in it because they can’t shake the feeling that something sinister is going on just that they need to get to the bottom of. Knowing might be half the battle but sure as heck, the Gum-Shoe is prepared for the other half that’ll require a reliable piece of iron and good pair of boots.
+ 2 Resources.
+ 1 One-Handed Melee Weapon.
+ 1 Handgun OR Trained Dog.
+ 1 Portable Camera and Film OR A Favour from an Official.[collapse]
Explorers and Adventurers all, the Hayburners of the world are not content to rest idly on their laurels. With the evolution of Aviation and more demand than ever to get offshore Hayburners are often the most traveled and worldly individuals one might stumble across. What motivates them to throw themselves so brazenly into the depths of Terra varies wildly from individual to individual and can be anything from wanderlust to intellectual curiosity. Hayburners have seen a thing or twelve and experienced the rich tapestry of life in a way few others can only dream about. Taking all these things into account, you’ll rarely find a Hayburner who isn’t brave and self-assured.
+ 2 Resources.
+ 1 Vehicle (e.g. Small Aircraft, Yacht, Motorbike).
+ 1 One-Handed Melee Weapon.
+ 1 Shotgun OR A Rucksack of Camping Supplies (including Rope, a Tent, a Tinderbox, Cooking Tools and Trail Rations).[collapse]
Stats and dice systems will NOT be present on the character sheets or in the roleplay at all. The roleplay will function purely on an ‘honours system’ that will be moderators by me and any other GMs that I’ve approved. Whilst I will always try and work with players to implement their ideas in fun and interesting ways I reserve the right to veto anything I think does not fit with the roleplay. I want characters to have a lot of love put into their creation so at the moment players are limited to one character each and will likely get grilled by me if they can’t answer basic questions about their character like – why do they do what they do?
Character Sheet Template:Spoiler
Character Name – Character Archetype
Character description: Namely their physical appearance including ethnicity and nationality.
Skills: The things your character is good at.
Hindrances: The things they’re not good at (including at least one thing from their past that is still giving them problems)
Resources: Your character’s chosen starting resources
(Whilst not compulsory, including a reference image is something I find fun and helpful).[collapse]
Every character will have enough basic income to not die. Simple groceries to keep you fed, running water and a place to nest for the night are likely within your character’s price range… unless you’d rather your investigator call the surrounding woodland their home. Resource can be spent for fancier digs, the University Estate proper offers some homely, olde worldy cottages and the town centre has flasher, more contemporary flats. Most investigators will start living in with of the budget flats offered in Ms. Michelle’s Flophouse.
The Town of Darkest is overflowing with strange occurrences and questionable opportunities for those with a keen eye. The Daily Darkest’s front page has been littered with stories of foul play, criminal activity and strange goings on, the airwaves outside of the towns local radio station are also brimming with whack-jobs and conspiracy theorists, certain of some overarching government conspiracy to experiment on ‘good hardworking people’s livelihoods.’ For those willing to brave the risks associated with it… there is always Hooked, the drunk’s, party-goer’s and criminal’s answer to the prohibition.September 27, 2016 at 8:52 am #199636
Tommy Badone– Hoods [Contract Killer]
Clothes: Piano black trench coat, Black fedora.
Eye color: Dim grey.
Hair: Comb-over, twirly mustache
Hair color: Brown
Accent: British (Posh)
Expertly skilled in hand to hand combat
Large stamina amount (can run for a while)
Dodgy leg (can’t walk properly)”The contract went sour near the end… fell through a house window and fucked my leg up hard.. the job was done by the next day.”
Bad eyesight when looking long distance “Looking down the scope of a rifle usually tends to… make things blurry.”
Sometimes has sensations of fainting “Getting into a fist fight with someone twice your weight wasn’t the best idea… I got a concussion. Whoops…”
Smith & Wesson M1917 Revolver [Handgun]
Garotte (Thick cable wire, wooden handles) [One handed melee weapon]
Hollowed out cane containing a small bottle of alcohol. (used to help him walk.)
(without the mask obviously)[collapse]
VanityPirate - "Banished to the elephant graveyard"
Blood trail killer - "It's like a thumbs up but with Parkinson's tho."September 27, 2016 at 9:18 am #199639
Jack Borewicz – Gumshoe
Description: A retired police detective, war veteran. Self-employed as a Private Investigator. Short and deceptively skinny. Brown hair usually hidden under a fedora. Wears a gray trench coat. His ancestors came from Poland, but he himself has no connection to the country.
Skills: Knows how to throw a punch and not get hit in return. Basic training with all firearms, comfortable with all handguns, expert with his beloved Colt M1917. Experienced investigator, intimidating interrogator.
Hindrances: Doesn’t know when to stop, has crossed the Mob one too many times. Alcoholic.
Resources: Police Connections (including a rapidly depleting stash of confiscated alcohol), Established Office.
Equipment: Brass Knuckles, Colt M1917 Revolver, Favour from an Official.[collapse]September 27, 2016 at 3:03 pm #199756
Ordeck Cassus – Egghead
Character description: Not a young caucasian man anymore Ordeck is 62 years old and tends to wear a heavy coat with a thick scarf. His face is thin and he has high cheekbones while his receding white hair is short enough to spike backwards. He has a thin frame and is 6 foot tall.
Skills: Ordeck has dedicate his life to the study of otherworldly bodies. What he calls Para-Biology, as such he has an excess of data on supposed monster sightings, cryptozoology, and “genuine” paranormal phenomenon. What is fact and what is fiction remains to be seen.
He is however a genuine Biologist and knows much about the workings of Flora and Fauna.
Hindrances: Not particularly gifted in fighting though Ordeck is by no means unfit, he has little courage and his tendencies to ramble on about his latest “theories” often leave him isolated.
He blames himself for the sickness that killed his mother.
Resources: Ordeck lives in his apartment on Campus and has tenure at the University(so yeah, he’s set for life).
His curious artifact is an Ancient Meso-American necklace he keeps in his apartment.
His Old Tome is “The Wonders of Amerika” A detailed account of a mountaineer who wrote of their encounters with many strange beasts of North America.
Equipment: Ordeck carries on him a Notebook and pen, Some chalk, a briefcase with a toothbrush and toothpaste(one never knows) and a small silver ring gifted to him by his Mother who always told him stories about monsters when he was younger.[collapse]
An ode to Cinneas:
"You made us laugh,
you made us cry.
Oh why, oh why,
did I let you die?"September 27, 2016 at 4:51 pm #199818
Character Name: Tony Dwight.
Character Archetype: Palookas.
Character description: Clothes: Similar to that of scarecrow, he wears grey jeans with multiple pockets, a blue button up shirt, a Tin colored Pilgrim like hat.
He’s tall and lanky, with a well built frame and stature. His face is slightly burnt, mostly around the nose region which is almost nonexistent, nose holes is all that’s left. Ears are small and flair out a bit, teeth are yellowed but straight and slightly crooked. And his eyes are half lidded, making it look like he was tired, or always looking at the ground.
Eye color: Hazel
Hair: no beard, no moustache, and shaggy hair.
Hair color: Jet Black
Skills: Running far distances, very handy with big blunt and sharp weapons and tools, debating, can hold out longer than most, dodging, strength, and working.
Hindrances: Dealing with Animals, having a casual conversation, throwing, catching, killing, paying a debt, and is easily angered/can’t keep his cool.
Resources:A photo of a man that Tony holds dear to his heart. A small place in the woods where he lives all alone except for a rabbit he calls Ronny. Right now is taking shelter at Ms.Michelles Flophouse for a bit.
Equipment: Camping Pack, a wood splitting axe, a bandage (boxing tale), a whistle, and an speakeasy catchphrase.[collapse]
Attachments:You must be logged in to view attached files.September 27, 2016 at 5:33 pm #199833
Avery Mercier – Egghead
Wiry and slight, Avery is a studious youth. He has spent a tremendous amount of time in books and notes, to hone his intellectual ability. He is very pale, rarely exposed to the environment. The English seventeen year old sports wavy blonde hair, blue-grey eyes and his features are not overly masculine.
He believes he has a comprehensive understanding of the human mind. Having spent a superfluous amount of time in educating himself, he is book smart and often spends time in meditation. He strives to understand and enable higher cognitive functions that the average human has suppressed.
Avery has little to no physical aptitude. Additionally, due to his seclusion growing up, he has had few social interactions. While he thinks he understands how to relate to (or even manipulate) someone, he is terribly lost when it comes to relationships.
Academic connections – A student of the University, he is housed in the dorm. His closest relationship is with Dr. Lilith Edwards, who he looks to for her expertise regarding the paranormal and psychological.
Skeleton key – Keeping to himself, Avery found a key while wandering a croft space at the college. He often lets himself into secluded places to explore or be alone.
1908 Pieper Bayard handgun – He has never used it, but knows technically how to. (Five round, 7.65 mm ammo)
A rusty artifact (an old censer) from Lilith’s collection, given to him as it was in poor condition and unfit to be displayed with her others.
The silver lining seldom lies in sight too plain to see
But trust our story's end can bring redemption for the pain enduredSeptember 27, 2016 at 6:05 pm #199847
Name? Ramsey. David Lee. I’m a Private Investigator.
I consider myself an average man. 6 foot even, around 180 (not that the height or weight helps me much). White as can be, thanks to my Irish parents (thankfully I managed to shake the accent). I’m not all that muscular, but I keep in shape, out of habit mostly. Hair is a dirty blond which I keep short (harder to grab onto) and my eyes are green. Pretty nice, as I’ve been told once or twice. I usually have a short, scruffy beard, mostly because some months I can’t be asked to shave. I wear a cheap suits, usually black or dark blue. I fill out the look with the classic beige fedora and trench coat, though sometimes I just carry the hat around. I went with beige because it scares people less. Better to be approachable than intimidating. That’s about all there is to mention, I think, in that regard. As I said, not very remarkable.
Skills? I’m a fair shot with a gun, better than anyone else I’ve seen. I learned how to find things hidden in plane sight, whether that be on a desk, or in a person’s expression. Some say I’m charismatic, because I get things out of people without having to play “bad cop.” Usually, anyway. They obviously don’t know me well. Cagey, would be another good descriptor. I follow my instincts. When things feel off, I back out and reassess. Kept me alive so far. That, and I’m not very fragile. Thick bones maybe. Good memory also helps.
Hindrances? Lots. I can’t fight with hands to save my life (someday, I’m sure that will be literal). If I run out of bullets, I run to find more, or just run in general. Call me a coward all you want, I don’t really care. I’ve taken enough beatings to know the difference between courage and intelligence. I smoke like a chimney and drink like a fish (not since prohibition though, honest). Never could stay away from a good scotch. I’ve been told I’m obsessive, and I’m prone to falling into odd sleep habits (habits like: not sleeping) when I have a case I really throw myself into. I could go on, but I won’t.
Resources. I’ve got a quaint (cramped) apartment that also functions as my office. Along with that is my beat up old Lincoln. She’s seen better days, but she works and that’s all I ask. I picked up a knife in the war. A menacing with spiked knuckles and a heavy pommel. I mostly use it for threatening and breaking into things, since I’m not great at using it for it’s intended purpose. Lot’s of guys carry around their little old .38s and feel ready to take on the world. I stopped after seeing a round ricochet off a windshield. Now I carry around a very fine Smith & Wesson Triple Lock. Nickle finish, six inch barrel, and walnut grips. Probably the best thing I’ll ever own. Chief ROGERS also owes me a favor.
I think we’re done here.[collapse]
My characters are terrible, stupid, useless people.September 27, 2016 at 6:53 pm #199858
Harvey Loretti Vet
Description: A young lad who survived the Great War and is from New York City. Working as a bodyguard with David Lee Ramsey, he’s a lanky fellow, at 6′ 2″ with dark black hair and dark colored eyes. Was born and raised in New York all his life. Son of Italian immigrants. Has good intentions. Very naive and religious. Very friendly. Wears a navy colored suit, most of the time with no jacket and the sleeves rolled up. Also has a navy blue tie.
Skills: Skilled at firearms use, knows how to cook, basic hand to hand combat skills, basic medical skills, a good runner.
Hindrances: His naive attitude often leads him to being tricked. He has family members associated with the Mob, though he isn’t an actual mobster, he acts as a courier at times. Is taken advantage easily. Also can be manipulated.
Equipment: A Colt .45 M1911, a Stevens M620 shotgun with improved iron sights, one bayonet (used as a melee weapon).
Resources: Small apartment and a small ammo stash.[collapse]
Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence and three times is enemy action.September 27, 2016 at 7:16 pm #199874
Samuel Herbert Avers- CroakerSpoiler
Samuel Herbert Avers– Croaker
Samuel stands at a smallish though not uncommon height of 5’6”, with a slim build and slender hands. His face has low cheekbones, and is clean-shaved on a good day, with his locks of dark, brown hair combed back and slicked away from his face. He has a long, prominent, upturned nose and a chipped tooth, at the canine. He has hazel eyes and peeked brows.
When not in practice, Samuel wears a well-fitted gray-blue suit with a darker gray bowler and stout combat boots.
Samuel is fluent in both English and French– though with his own southern-English accent, respective to where he hails–, and has a knack for communication and languages; he loves to talk, almost to a fault in its degree. His experience in the military has earned him an amount of prowess in combat, namely with guns, and he keeps himself fit, save for some slack he’s given himself since his time off duty.
He does not fall asleep easily, if at all; he suffers from night-terrors and makes vain attempts to limit as much time asleep as he can, often falling asleep at his desk. He is prone to nervous moods and severe motion sickness. He relies greatly on interactions with others for personal fulfillment, and begins to unravel when left on his lonesome for extended periods of time.
-A small clinic, with a smaller apartment set up top, situated on the more run-down side of town, offering cheaper and more personalized care than the local hospital. Though it couldn’t be considered a luxury experience… if at all.
-His residence above the clinic is small, but well-kept; he has a comfortable living space.
1 medical kit, for emergencies, and a small handgun.[collapse]
"I'd sneak into your burrito." --Bloodtrailkiller
"you'll never quote me" --Relentless Oblivion
"All flesh fails, in the fullness of time."
Tilly: Grave Robber
Stress: 30/100 [Neutral]
Florence Novel: Plague Doctor
Stress: 15/100 [Relaxed]
Gold: 75[collapse]October 9, 2016 at 7:48 pm #204611
Speaker of TruthsParticipantSpoiler
Brandon “The Rook” MacHeath – Class Act
Nationality: Irish National
Height: 6′ 4″
Weight: 180 lbs
Eyes: Green-flecked Hazel
Clothes: Casual long sleeve dress shirt with vest, bow-tie, slacks. Blazer/hat/long coat when appropriate.
Accent: Speaks without an accent at most times, but occasionally his native brogue slips through.
Physical: Brandon is still a young man, but stressful living has added a few wrinkles that seem to age him prematurely. Though ridiculously tall, he manages to come off as easy and friendly enough that he is not the looming presence a harder man might He always carries himself straight and upright, and no one in the greater public of Darkest has ever seen him without a smile. While he rarely rolls up his sleeves outside of his home or the occasional night at the Hooked, he has tattoos on his forearms, as well as all up his back. His arms are done in Celtic fashion, but the ink on his back is of Russian style, marking him a friend of certain unsavory elements, as well as a debt almost paid.
Skills: Brandon knows everyone, and everyone knows Bran. Even those who normally want nothing to do with those “Paddy Bastards” grudgingly admit that Bran is a good fella.
Because Brandon is so well regarded, he is known in certain circles to be extraordinarily well connected. If you need to talk to someone, want to get your hands on something, or need someone to vouch for you in the more exclusive areas of Darkest, the Rook is the man to see.
His business requires Bran to be well-read and educated, so he’s plenty good at keeping a ledger, and can quote popular literature with the best of them.
Though he doesn’t advertise it, Bran is a touch more than passing handy with his knife. A few hidden scars are a testament to his hard won skill with it.
Bran is a fair hand with tattooing, skills that he picked up in a colorful and full life.
Far from a croaking raven, the Rook has a lovely Irish tenor, and is well known for his songs of the old country, especially in the Caravan
Hindrances: Rook’s Shipping and Imports is under occasional scrutiny from the local police. Bran has in the past been compelled to utilize his business for moving items of questionable legality, but his skill with the ledgers and his good friendships with most of the force ensure that investigations go smoothly and without undue hassle.
Though he has nearly balanced the scales with them, Brandon still owes one strong, nondescript “favor” to the denizen’s of the Wolf’s Den. Though he is generally well regarded by them, as he has never let them down before, there is no doubt that they will do what they can to keep him in their debt.
Though well-spoken and well-read, Brandon was home-schooled by a variety of tutors. As such, there are large gaps in his education that a more classically trained gentleman would not have.
On a more mundane note, Brandon detests guns, and as such is a worthless shot.
Resources: Rook’s Shipping and Imports, owner/proprietor. A successful goods transportation business on the streets near the Docks. The office includes a small loft, which is where he sleeps
A friend to the Wolf’s Den, though not widely known, and as such, access to/protection from their operations on the Docks.
Regarded as something of a local hero in the Caravan Site, both for caring for the immigrants when times are tough, and for his singing, which brightens days and soothes weary hearts.
Equipment: Speakeasy Password
Horn-handled knife, hilt engraved with a raven in flight
Bottle of 18 year Jameson, held at the Hooked as “The Rook’s Private Reserve”[collapse]October 12, 2016 at 11:46 am #205709
Amedeo Acconcio.-Dutch Uncle
Tall and thin with wiry muscle and an uncontrollable shock of raven black hair, and olive brown Amedeo is handsome by almost anyone’s standards, even after almost a year of living in the trenches he still has a certain boyish glow to his features, the only readily visible mark from the war being a missing front tooth and shorn off pinkie finger on his left hand.He can most commonly be seen in his priest robes, though when not in those he favors a tweed jacket over a brown vest and dark green button down shirt, tucked into his knickerbockers, tall grey socks and a well-loved pair of army boots. More often than not he carries a rucksack with him, containing two copies of the King James Bible, a dozen or so crosses of various sizes and materials, and a luger.
Amedeo’s has an unrelenting optimism born from the months of rough conditions he experienced treating the ailing in the trenches. As such, he also has some minor medical skills and speaks a very small amount of French and German, mostly prayers. He is a below-average shot with a pistol and has never even held a rifle or machine gun. Due to his origin, he is fluent in Italian. Having braved the heat of more than one battle, Amedeo is accustomed to the clamor and chaos that comes from any fight and can continue his sermons even as the world burns down around him. Due to his time with the clergy, he has some minor skills in organ and pianos and pursues the guitar as a hobby.
Amedeo is completely deaf in his right ear, and his missing pinkie does cost him some dexterity. Besides that, his hand-eye coordination is lacking, as is his balance. Amedeo has a slightly scattered mind and can become unfocused, shifting from one task to a dozen others without really ever finishing any of them.
A luger, a dozen or so rosaries taken from the soldiers that have died in Amedeo’s care.
Holy Relic: Finger of a saint in a small glass vial.
Vials of Holy Water.[collapse]
"He that wounded me
Hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead..."
"I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days."
The spirit of adventure is forever, you dumbass!October 14, 2016 at 3:08 am #206358
Melanie Noyes – Hood(Bartender/Bootlegger)
Character description: A small, young Afro-Latinx woman born in America with straight dark brown hair and brown eyes. A small mole above her mouth. 18 years of age. She wears a faded pink dress with a men’s blazer and pearl necklace. Under her dress are white tights and black shoes. Atop her head is a pink headpiece. Over her left eye is an eyepatch.
Skills: She has a knack for lying straight to a person’s face. She was taught by the mob how to use a gun for self-defense.
Hindrances: Having only one eye, she doesn’t have the best depth perception. She greatly lacks physical strength.
Resources: Working as a bootlegger for the mob, she has mob connections. She occasionally has access to a field in the country warehouse that doubles as a mob safehouse.
-Colt M1911A1 (handgun)
-Switchblade (melee weapon)
"Ack! Pulled a muscle!"My art!October 30, 2016 at 3:41 pm #213138
(Ignore)November 3, 2016 at 11:34 am #214821
The thunderous clap of the heavens had heralded the storm’s arrival earlier that day. By night, silver sheets of torrential aqua fell from the moonless sky flooding the cobbles and driving Darkest’s denizens indoors for the night. It would be a sleepless eve, certainly. Thunder’s orchestra and lightning’s revelations had persisted well past the witching hour and into the first hours of the following day’s inception. Deep in the inky black of that small town’s darkness… a rumbling sound, not begat of anything natural echoed through the all but diminished noise of the storm proper, pulsing outwardly from the epicenter of the Town Square beneath the Clock Tower. A grinding sound of metal and machine: grating, gnawing through thunder’s final bellows was interjected only by the echoes of heavy footsteps upon the tarnished stones… and a scream of unmistakable horror and unimaginable pain. Dawn had begun to rear its head and in reflection of the street below the graying clouds were pierced with bolts of vermilion.
Commotion and the noise associated with it gathered about the scene in that small Town Center, men bedecked in navy that determined their roles as Darkest’s Bulls gathered; accompanied only by the lead that hung from their sides and the bloodhounds that barked at gnashed at the violent remains of the scene in front of them. Blood had been spilled that night, a person had been ripped from the mortal coil.
Beneath the rim of his fedora a Detective struck an ember into life and exhaled a thick expulsion of tobacco smoke into the spattering of rain. His eyes cast over the gore in front of him, it resembled something closer to the Parisian art he’d heard about in the paper rather than a person. “Nice weather for it.” He murmured to nobody in particular while his underlings and their hounds did their best to keep a handful or onlookers from not looking. “Aw, applesauce.” In a singular practiced motion his ciggy was flicked into a nearby drain. “This sorry Sheik’s made quite the upchuck.” Detective ‘Romeo’ tightened the belt of his tench coat. “This’ll just slay the big cheese.” With something akin to relief the… ‘parts’ that adorned the living abstract painting were covered with sheets. The Investigation had begun.
(For now I want only Rums, Speaker, Black and Relentless reacting to posts. Sorry other folks!)November 3, 2016 at 12:22 pm #214851
awwwwwww, this looked really cool hahahahahahah alright though but i am reading along with this
I’m out of my head
Of my heart and my mind
'Cause you can run but you can’t hide
I’m gonna make you mine
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