[Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: HairyHeretic on 29-05-2009, 00:46:29</h2>
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				Title: <strong>[Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HairyHeretic</strong> on <strong>29-05-2009, 00:46:29</strong>
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				Here be character sheets, the backstory of the characters, and any incidents from their past they care to show off. I'm also going to add in setting specific information.<br><br>First up, a map of the Deadlands setting<br><br>(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/91/Deadlandsmap.jpg)<br><br>This will be followed with a timeline of key events, and a information on different regions and factions.<br><br>Timeline of Key Events of the last 20 years or so.<br><br><strong>1840 </strong>- Most Indians have realized that the white treaties are worthless. The seeds of the future are sown.<br><br><strong>1846 </strong>- An Independent Texas is annexed by President Polk and once again Mexico invades. This ends with the American capture of Mexico city.&nbsp; <br><br>The Mexican–American War begins. The US sneaks Santa Anna back into Mexico so he can negotiate a peace treaty on US terms. Santa Anna agrees but breaks his promise soon after arriving. He raises a 200,000-man army and is “elected” president.<br><br><strong>1847</strong> - Salt Lake City founded by Brigham Young and the Mormons.<br><br><strong>1848</strong> - The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo ends the Mexican-American War, giving the United States most of its present Mexico-Confederate territories.<br><br><strong>1850’s</strong> - Fear of voodoo fades and it becomes an accepted religion.<br><br>Steamboats become popular forms of floating entertainment along the Mississippi River.<br><br><strong>1853</strong> - Import broker Joshua A. Norton loses a fortune after rice importing prices crash. He disappears and returns years later, crazy, calling himself “Emperor Norton the first.”<br><br><strong>1853</strong> - July to October Almost 9000 people die of Yellow Fever in New Orleans.<br><br><strong>1859</strong> - The Cortinas War. Texas Rangers fight Juan Cortinas after he occupies Brownsville. After an initial failure they return and drive Cortinas back to Mexico.<br><br><strong>1860</strong> - The elections of '60 creates the climate of conflict and the Civil War is launched! <br><br><strong>1861</strong> April 12 - Fort Sumter is bombarded by South Carolina militia. These are the first shots of the Civil War.<br><br>April 13 - Fort Sumter falls to the militia attack started the day before.<br><br><strong>1862 </strong>April 15th - Picacho Peak Civil War battle. ORE 06/02/2000<br><br>May 1 - Union forces take the city of New Orleans after a short naval bombardment. <br><br>Union forces drive Confederates out of Arizona and New Mexico and then turn attentions to the Apache and Navajo. They are successful until around 1864 when the Apaches begin to acquire more weapons. <br><br><strong>Early1863</strong> -&nbsp; US General Ulysses Grant lays siege to the city of Vicksburg, Mississippi.<br><br>A detachment of Union cavalry retreating from Vicksburg, enter the Montevallo field hospital and slaughter the patients and student nurses.<br><br>Bill Quantrill and group burn the town of Lawrence, Kansas, killing over 150 men, women, and children.<br><br><strong>July 3 The Reckoning. </strong><br><br>July 3rd - CSA Gen John Pemberton prepares his army for the surrender of Vicksburg to Union forces led by Gen Ulysses Grant.&nbsp; But his army escapes the city that night. <br><br>The citizens of New Orleans stage a rebellion against the Union occupation forces. The entire Union 5000 man garrison of New Orleans is killed in a single night. They then defeated a Union relief flotilla that arrived within the week.<br><br>July 4 - US General Grant marches into and occupies the town of Vicksburg, Mississippi. Soon after a disease, the “Wasting”, begins to creep through the civilian population and occupying troops. Before the city is evacuated a few days later, over 10,000 people have died. <br><br>At the rate of about one a month, small ships are being found abandoned and adrift in the waters off the coast of Pennsylvania. This continues til the present day<br><br>The Texas Rangers are removed from standard service and start investigating various reports of strange happenings<br><br>First reports of Salt Rattlers on the great salt flats of Utah<br><br><strong>1864</strong> - Bill Quantrill raids and burns Centralia, Kansas.<br><br>April 9th - General Grant increases the responsibilities of the Pinkerton Detective agency on orders from Lincoln to investigate the “Infernal creatures” that had begun to show up.<br><br>Lincoln Executive Order issued that enforces Local and county law to comply with Pinkertons.<br><br>October 2 - A hastily assembled force repulsed a Union advance toward the Stuart, Buchanan &amp; Co. Saltworks in Saltville, Virginia. The defenders then murdered more than a hundred of the Union’s wounded. These people were court-martialed.<br><br>November 11th - The Confederate Congress enacts the Manumission Law, first proposed by General Patric R. Cleburne. This allows the emancipation of its slaves and the CSA receives European recognition soon after. <br><br><strong>1865</strong> - April 14 President Lincoln assassinated by John Wilkes Booth.<br><br>Bill Quantrill caught by Union soldiers and killed, scattering his band along with Frank and Jesse James.<br><br>April 9 - CSA President Davis frees all slaves.<br><br>Late - The sweeping offensives and army movements begin to stall into a stalemate. <br><br><strong>1866</strong> -&nbsp; February 2 The town of Quarryville, Pennsylvania is attacked by giant groundhogs. The town is attacked every year on this date.<br><br>Brigham Young announces that Utah will operate as an autonomous entity until the Civil War ends. <br><br>July - In his famous July Memorandum Jefferson Davis authorizes the Texas Rangers to become a CSA wide Police force with authority over local and state law enforcement.<br><br>The Apache are now firmly in control of their lands with the Union troops forced to retreat to the safety of their forts. <br><br><strong>1867</strong> - Smuggling along the Mississippi River begins in earnest.<br><br>Cholera hits Memphis, Tennessee. Followed by Yellow Fever later that same year. <br><br>Major General Grenville Dodge camps under a tree Indians marked as a "plug" to the Hunting Grounds. The town of Laramie, Wyoming Territory is founded on that spot.<br><br><strong>1868 </strong>- Benjamin Strand discovers GhostRock in the Wasatch mountains. CoG pg. 14<br><br>The Great Quake claims large chunks of California as it tumbles into the sea.<br><br><strong>Late 1860’s</strong> - The rivalry between Queen Marie Leveau and Baron Simon LaCroix escalates.<br><br><strong>1870</strong> - Darius Hellstromme arrives in Salt Lake with his invention of the Steam Wagon. <br><br>Dr. Hellstromme’s Factory #1 is constructed for building Steam Wagons.<br><br><strong>1871</strong> -&nbsp; February&nbsp; "The battle of Washington" The South attacks Washington with newly developed war machines and forces the northern capitol to evacuate. The Southern machines soon lose effectiveness due to lack of fuel and repair and are forced to retreat.<br><br>Fighting continues over the course of the year, with gains and losses on both sides, and ultimately little to show for it.<br><br><strong>1872 </strong>- The Sioux Nations are founded by Sitting Bull and other Lakota elders.<br><br>A rumor that Baron Simon LaCroix had placed a curse on Queen Marie Leveau eventually leads to street warfare between the followers of each voodoo leader. The riots stopped two days later when martial law was declared.<br><br>The Demeter, captained by Jack MacGowran, disappears near Vicksburg, Mississippi. A nearby town is also found deserted with no sign of what happened to the people. <br><br>Fall The sickness called "the Walking Death" appears among the Chickasaw. Its spreads like wild fire throughout the five tribes of the Indian Territories. <br><br>Late-year The Mary Celeste found adrift, near the Azores, with no sign of passengers. Union journalists first use the name “Devil’s Triangle”. <br><br>Ed Schieffelin comes east from California and stakes two silver mines Tombstone and Graveyard. One becomes the town of Tombstone.<br><br>The Coyote Confederation is formed a few months after the second battle of Adobe Walls.<br><br><br><strong>The Disputed Lands</strong><br>Kansas, Oklahoma, Colorado, Utah: <br>The Disputed Lands are those states and territories with no clear allegiance to either the North or the South. Both nations may claim they own these states, but in truth the towns and cities within switch sides frequently—and often violently.<br><br>Like the Disputed Lands, the land itself turns broken and jagged as it crawls westward. The plains of Kansas rise slowly to the rolling hills of eastern Colorado before finally becoming the Rocky Mountains and the jagged hills of Utah.<br><br>Kansas has been the site of more than 20 years of guerrilla warfare. Back in 1854, President Franklin Pierce signed the Kansas-Nebraska Act, opening the territory to settlement. According to the Act, the people of the territory would be allowed to vote on whether it entered<br>the Union as a free or slave state. It didn’t take long for pro-slavery groups from Missouri to filter across the border. Dubbed “border ruffians” by settlers, these groups tried to ensure that Kansas would become a slave state. Their mortal opponents are the Jayhawkers, Kansan abolitionists. <br>Despite the border ruffians’ best efforts, Kansas was admitted to the Union as a free state in January, 1861. A few months later, the Rebels opened up on Fort Sumter and the Civil War began. No major campaigns have been fought in Kansas, but many neighbors harbor grudges from the earlier fighting, and the war always provides an excuse for a new round of hostilities. Guerrilla fighting is particularly intense along the Kansas- Missouri border. The recent influx of troops into the state has only made things worse.<br><br>Dodge City<br>Like Kansas itself, the loyalties of Dodge’s citizens are torn between the North and the South. The old animosities run as deep here as anywhere back East. While most towns in Kansas are pretty solidly blue or gray, Dodge is split right down the middle. Dodge’s original charter explicitly stated that those of all political persuasions were welcome, and even made provisions for a larger police force to keep the peace.<br>Most folks are willing to put up with a little conflict in the name of the dollar. Buffalo hunting is big business in Kansas, and Dodge has become quite the commercial hub. Thanks to cattle plagues elsewhere in the country, buffalo meat has become a valuable commodity, and a hunter can bring home as much as $30—in just about any currency he can name—for a single buffalo. Local slaughter houses usually buy the meat and hide for shipment to points East.<br>The rest of Dodge’s economy—other than the money to be made by rail passengers who spend the night in one of the city’s hotels or houses of ill-repute—is based on serving buffalo hunters. Saloons, dance halls, and supply stores are thick on the ground, and you can’t take more than a few steps without tripping over a snake-oil salesman or grifter.<br>Naturally, all the booze and guns—combined with Kansas’ seemingly inevitable inclination toward political divisiveness—leads to a lot of folks coming down with terminal cases of lead poisoning. A couple years back, the Town Council had enough, and passed a law that required anyone entering the town to come to Marshal Larry Deger’s office to check his guns.<br>Needless to say, this didn’t go over well with the rowdier elements of society, but the law’s chief proponent—Deputy Wyatt Earp—isn’t one to be trifled with. More than a few buffalo hunters who “forget” to check their rifles wake in a cell with an “earp”—a nice shiny new bruise delivered by the barrel of Earp’s pistol.<br>Of course, the day anything’s made illegal is the night a lively black market springs up. In this case, back alley trade in weapon claim slips is common. <br>Combined with the fact that Dodge City is served by two major rail lines—Black River and Union Blue— and is as far East as you can go without heavy border patrols, this lively underground makes Dodge an attractive stopover point for spies bound for points both North and South. All of this adds up to a rowdy nightlife in the boomtown.<br><br>Denver<br>There’s a saying that goes, “all rails lead west to Denver.” The Queen City of the Desert lies nestled in a valley in the foothills of the Front Range of the Rockies. It’s the largest city between Dodge and the City of Lost Angels, and between Texas and Seattle, making it the perfect place to run a rail to. Colorado was only made a state in ‘72, with Denver as its capital, and the people are prouder than peacocks. Of course, both the North and the South claim ownership of the state, but this far from the battlelines, it doesn’t seem like most people care much. Of course, there are always exceptions.<br>The best way east or west of Denver is by the Denver Pacific railroad. It connects with three of the major lines in the Disputed Lands, so it’s accessible to the East. It reaches far west as well, all the way to Salt Lake City where the owners, Smith &amp; Robards, use it to ship their incredible wares.<br><br>Independent Deseret<br>In 1866, the current leader, and Joseph Smith’s successor as leader of the Mormon people, President Brigham Young, declared the Utah Territory the independent “State of Deseret.” While young declared publicly that Deseret’s loyalty remained with the Union, few believe that young wants to be part of either the North or the South. Brigham almost says as much in his sermons— but never within earshot of representatives of the US or CSA governments.<br>As things stand now, neither the Union or Confederacy can spare the manpower necessary to dispute the Mormon’s sovereign status.<br><br>Salt Lake City is often called the City of Gloom. This title is not some satirical comment on the Mormon lifestyle, but rather recognition of the city’s incredible factories. These factories build ghost rock powered devices of steam and steel. The constant cloud of ghost rock soot that hangs in the air and permeates certain sections of the city gives it its less than cheerful moniker.<br>Worse still is the Junkyard, the maze of streets, overhanging pipes, and gantries built up in and around Darius Hellstromme’s numerous factories. The maze overhead is called the Steel Sky, and pretty much blots out the sun on even cloudless days. Squeezed smack dab between Salt Lake City proper and the nearby Rockies, the Junkyard isn’t a place proper Mormons go. It’s left to the Gentiles— and the bloodthirsty gangs, desperate fugitives, and darker things that run it.<br><br>The Law<br>There are three tiers of law in the West: town marshals, county sheriffs, and US marshals &amp; Texas Rangers<br><br>At the lowest level is the town marshal. Most large towns have one, as do a few smaller ones. Marshals are usually elected by the locals, though many towns allow the mayor or a town council to appoint them instead.<br><br>A step above a town marshal is the county sheriff and any deputies he’s appointed. These men and women are the law throughout the county.<br><br>In Union states and territories, US marshals have ultimate authority over the law. They can hire deputy US marshals, authorize posses, cross state and territorial lines, and even call on county sheriffs and town marshals if need be.<br><br>The Confederacy relies on the military or territorial rangers to do its interstate policing in the West. Regiments scattered throughout rebel states and territories always have jurisdiction over local town marshals and county sheriffs.<br>The South’s elite are the Texas Rangers. These surly fellows fought as regulars in the early years of the war, but they were later detached from the regular military to serve the Confederacy as mounted police officers. They continue to fulfill that duty in the South today, though rumors persist of more secretive duties.<br><br>The Revenant<br>There is a rumor of a tall cowboy dressed in black mounted atop a pale horse riding from town to town in the Disputed Lands. The papers have named this grim figure “the Revenant.” The Revenant rides into towns searching for lawmen. It isn’t known if victims are chosen beforehand or if this dark stranger simply challenges the first lawman he sees. Once his prey is spotted, the Revenant pats his six-gun, silently challenging the law to a duel. In a heartbeat, the lawman is dead, and the Revenant mounts his pale horse and rides away.<br>The Revenant has visited Lawrence, Abilene, Wichita, Dodge, and Denver. Where he’s headed next is anyone’s guess.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>29-05-2009, 01:09:26</strong>
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				Name: Chou SuLan <br>Concept: Easygoing Knight Errant<br>Pantheon: Celestial Bureaucracy<br>God: Monkey King<br>Nature: Libertine<br><br>Strength 2<br>Dexterity 3<br>Stamina 4<br><br>Charisma 4<br>Manipulation 4<br>Appearance 3<br><br>Perception 2<br>Intelligence 2<br>Wits 3<br><br>Animal Ken 2<br>*Athletics 4<br>Awareness 3<br>*Brawl 4<br>Control 1<br>Empathy 2<br>*Fortitude 2<br>*Larceny 3<br>*Melee 3<br>Presence 2<br>Stealth 2<br>*Survival 2<br>Thrown 1<br><br>Epic Dexterity (1)<br>Epic Stamina (1)<br>Epic Charisma (1)<br>Epic Manipulation (1)<br>Epic Wits (1)<br><br>Duty 1<br>Harmony 3<br>Loyalty 4 (in lieu of Intellect)<br>Valor 2<br><br>Legend 2<br>Legend Points 4<br>Willpower 7<br><br>Knacks: Monkey Climber, Inner Furnace, Never Say Die, Takes One To Know One, Social Chameleon<br><br>Purviews: <br>Animal (1) Animal Communication<br>Chaos (1) Eye of the Storm<br>Earth (1) Safely Interred<br>Fire (1) Fire Immunity<br>Sky (1) Sky's Grace<br><br>Relic (1) Red Jade Bracelet (Fire)<br>Relic (1) Black Jade Bracelet (Earth)<br>Relic (1) Living Jade Pendant (Chaos)<br>Relic (1) Cloud-Riding Slippers (Sky)<br>Relic (2) Monkey-Tail Sash (Animal, acts as prehensile tail &lt;+2d to Dex + Athletics&gt;)<br>Creature (1) Guide (1)&nbsp; 'Relic' (1) Capuchin Monkey ('Uncle")<br><br>Bonus Point Expenditure<br>Relic (1 point), Creature (1 point), Virtue +1 (3 points), Ability 2@2 points (4 points total), Ability 6@1 point-favored (6 points total) (+2 Bonus Points as per GM: Guide 1@1, Relic 1@1)<br><br>Join Battle: 6 (1 Auto)<br>Dodge DV: 5<br><br>Sword Acc 7 Dam 6L DV 6 Parry DV 6 Spd 4<br><br>Soak (Unarmored)<br>Bashing: 5<br>Lethal: 3<br>Aggravated: 1<br><br><br>Let us look at her for a moment: she is small and slight--that much is obvious at once.&nbsp; Her hair, short and straight and reddish-brown, seems at odds with her face, which clearly speaks of Chinese ancestry.&nbsp; She's cute, in a mischievous sort of way...and when she grins (which she does quite often) her face lights up in a way that is either alarming or alluring, depending on the business at hand.&nbsp; She wears a serape over a worn dark grey tunic and loose grey trousers, jade bracelets on her wrists and a jade pendant at her throat.&nbsp; Around her waist is a emerald green sash*, and she has black slippers on her feet.&nbsp; Over one shoulder she bears a Chinese sword in a scabbard.<br><br>Eight years ago, she probably looked a lot like this:<br><br>(http://i118.photobucket.com/albums/o107/_My_Broken_Wings_/Cowboy%20Bebop/PDVD_053.jpg)<br><br>* which, for the record, bears the characters 'mei li hou zi kung zou' on it.&nbsp; That's Chinese for 'Beautiful Monkey Princess', which more or less tells you who gave it to her...
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>29-05-2009, 02:00:35</strong>
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				Name: Jenny Falstaff<br>Player: Galanoder<br>Calling: Physical Paragon<br>Nature: Competitor<br>Pantheon: Dodekatheon<br>God: Hermes<br><br>ATTRIBUTES<br><br>Physical (Priority 1)<br><br>Strength&nbsp; &nbsp;OOOO/**<br>*Dexterity OOOO/***<br>Stamina&nbsp; &nbsp; OOO/**<br><br>Social (Priority 3)<br><br>Charisma&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;OOO<br>Manipulation OO<br>Appearance&nbsp; &nbsp;OO<br><br>Mental (Priority 2)<br><br>Perception&nbsp; &nbsp; OOO<br>*Intelligence OO<br>*Wits&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;OOOO/*<br><br><br>ABILITIES<br><br>Academics<br>Animal Ken OO<br>Art<br>*Athletics OOO<br>*Awareness OOO<br>Brawl OOO<br>Command<br>Control OO<br>Craft<br>Empathy O<br>Fortitude OO<br>Integrity O<br>Investigation O<br>*Larceny O<br>Marksmanship O<br>Medicine<br>Melee OOO<br>*Occult <br>Politics <br>Presence <br>*Science <br>Stealth OOO<br>*Survival OO<br>Thrown OO<br><br>BIRTHRIGHTS<br><br>Boots of Swiftness OOO (Sky, Psychopomp, Illusion) On first glance, these are simple work boots made of brown leather. However, a closer look reveals that the workmanship is extremely high quality, and the leather itself is supple while still being tough. The soles are made of similar leather to the body, allowing a high degree of flexibility compared to conventional boots. Boon channeling is activated by clicking the heels twice.<br>Sword of Deception OOO ( -2 Speed, +1 Damage to Xiphos Template) A shortened xiphos, the sword of deception is the more obviously supernatural of Jennys artifacts. The blade is a misty blue-green, and the blade shifts in colour and pattern before peoples eyes. The hilt is a golden metal, twisted into complicated spiral patterns that seem to change every time someone looks at it. The blade is exeptionally light and sharp. Boon channeling is activated with a flourish of the blade.<br>Nemean Belt OO (Adds 3B/2L/1A soak)<br><br>POWERS (Arete, Magic, Psychopomp and Illusion Associated)<br><br>Epic Attributes<br><br>2 Epic Strength<br>3 Epic Dexterity<br>2 Epic Stamina<br>1 Epic Wits<br><br>Knacks<br><br>Holy Bound<br>Uplifting Might<br>Lightning Sprinter<br>Untouchable Opponent<br>Monkey Climber<br>Self-Healing<br>Inner Furnace<br>Rabbit Reflexes<br><br>Boons<br><br>The Subtle Knife (Illusion O)<br>Skys Grace (Sky O)<br><br>VIRTUES AND WILLPOWER<br><br>Virtues<br><br>Expression O<br>Intellect&nbsp; O<br>Valor&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; OOO<br>Vengance&nbsp; &nbsp;OOOO<br><br>Willpower OOOOOOO<br><br>LEGEND<br><br>OOOO<br><br>Legend Pool 16<br><br>SOAK<br><br>B 5/L 4/A 2<br><br>Armour<br><br>B 3/L 2/A 1<br><br>Dodge: 6 + 4 from epic dex (+ 4 from Untouchable Opponent)<br><br>WEAPONS<br><br>Sword of Deception: +1 Accuracy, +4 Lethal Damage, +1 Defence, 2 Speed.<br>Silver Revolver: +2 Accuracy, +4 Lethal Damage, 20 Range, Clip of 6, 5 Speed, Piercing.<br><br>BONUS POINTS:<br><br>7: Legend 2-&gt;3<br>7: Legend 3-&gt;4<br>1: Adding + 1 Damage to sword<br>2: Buying Belt<br><br>Jennys a farm girl through and through. Born on a ranch into a large family, she had to earn her way in the world from as early as she could remember. She had to fight with her siblings for attention and affection from her parents, and prove herself to them by sticking to her chores and doing as she was told. For some reason she never seemed to find the quiet satisfaction her brothers and sisters did in a well done job, but she had no hope of escaping so she had to put up with it.<br><br>That was, until the farm was attacked. Two of her brothers were out messing about in the mountains nearby, when they came running back, screaming about some monster that was chasing them. Pa barely had time to get his shotgun out when the beast came crashing in through the fence and started slaughtering her family members left, right and centre. She was the last one left, and the massive bulk of the beast lumbered towards her, eyes gleaming with malice. She closed her eyes, ready for the worst...<br><br>When she opened them again, the beast was crumpled up in a heap on the floor, and a tall greek looking gentleman was smiling down on her. This was Hermes, her real Pa. He explained that he had taken her mother wearing her fathers face, and that he now needed her to fight against the Titans. He gifted her with a pair of boots and a sword, then told her to go into the world and seek titanspawn like the one that had butchered her family and farm before her.<br><br>She set off into the mountains and found every last one of the titanspawns children, slaying them all with her newly awakened powers. She was surprised at how... easy everything seemed now. She ran faster, jumped higher, noticed things that would have gone over her attention before, and didn't need to stop for rest for great periods of time. When she emerged from the mountains a week later, she was streaked in blood and dirt and sweat, but there was a grim satisfaction in her eyes. She had slain every last titanspawn in those mountains, and had avenged her familys death. Hermes was standing by the entrance to the farm when she came back.<br><br>The young Scion spent the next week setting things in order at the ranch while learning of her duty and place in the world from her Pa. He said that that mountain range was not the only place in the world that creatures like that lived, and many had infiltrated towns and cities to turn over the world to chaos. When Jenny asked what she should do, he just smiled and patted her shoulder "Just carry on like you did in those mountains kid." he had said with an easy smile on his face "You're not... exactly how I expected you to turn out, but you'll do good, I can tell."<br><br>Later that week, Jenny had packed up and&nbsp; was getting ready to leave, when Hermes again appeared beside her. He tapped the barrel of her dads old rifle that was slung across her shoulder "You'll be wanting something more discreet than that kid. It'll be safe enough here." he took it from her, and handed her a pearl handled revolver with a silver frame. "It looks fancy, so they'll think you're soft." he smiled "Surprise them." That was the last time she saw him, but she knew he was busy. Surely he'd come back someday, right? After all, he was the only family she had left.<br><br>Jenny has travelled a lot since then. She's battled titanspawn everywhere she's gone, tracking down urban legends and tall tales and seeing if there's any truth behind them. Quite a lot of the time it's just conmen or empty whisperings, but she finds enough battles to fight to make her journey worthwhile. Her most recent adventure saw her saving a dwarven town from being terrorized by a Nemean Cobra.<br><br>Jenny is a physically capable woman, if you couldn't work on the farm then you were looked down upon, and she always did more than was asked of her. She wears simple linen dresses and has her long black hair tied back in a tight braid. She hides the Sword of Deception in a battered travelling bag along with the rest of her posessions when not using her illusion powers to conceal it on her person. The sword is shorter and lighter than a normal xiphos, which makes it easier to swing and direct. She always wears her birthright boots, you never know when danger will find you after all.<br><br>Jenny prefers the practical approach to problems, and her no-nonsense attitude combined with her divine power makes her formidable in a fight. She prefers to bring out her sword and cut down her foes if leathal force is nessecary. If its not, then she's content to strike her foes with her bare hands. She prefers to use the sword in combat, finding the superior balance combined with her divine physical powers outstrips gunfire easily. Her latest acquisition from her adventuring is a belt made from nemean cobra hide given to her by a grateful dwarf. It toughens up all the clothes she wears as long as she has it on.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>29-05-2009, 02:12:53</strong>
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				(http://i357.photobucket.com/albums/oo17/Phaia_Jacobs/ResizeofSteampunk1.jpg)<br><br><span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font"><em><strong>Alexandra Catherina Moorland</strong></em> <em>'Lady Kitterland'</em><br>Player :&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Phaia<br>Calling:&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Guardian and hunter<br>Nature:&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Rogue<br>Pantheon:&nbsp; Pesedjet<br><br>Bonus Points (15) (+2 from Hairy)<br>Legend Increase&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; -7<br>Abilities&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; -7<br>Pharaoh [creature]&nbsp; &nbsp;-2<br>Heku&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; -1<br><br><strong>Attributes: (8, 6, 4)&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Abilities:</strong><br><strong><span style="font-size: 0.7em;" class="bbc_size"><em>Physical: [4]</em></span></strong>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*Athletics&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; ooo<br>Strength&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;oo&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*Awareness&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;ooooo<br>Stamina&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; oo&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*Brawl&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;oo&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <br>Dexterity&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; ooo/**&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; *Larceny&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;ooooo&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <br><strong><em><span style="font-size: 0.7em;" class="bbc_size">Social: [8]</span></em></strong>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; *Stealth&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;ooo<br>Charisma&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; ooo&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; *Survival&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o<br>Manipulation&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;oooo/**&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Academics&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; ooo<br>Appearance&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; oooo&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<em>Languages:English,+Arabic,+French,+German,+Chinese</em>&nbsp; &nbsp; <br><strong><em><span style="font-size: 0.7em;" class="bbc_size">Mental: [6]</span></em></strong>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Animal Ken&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o<br>Perception&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; ooo/**&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Empathy&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; ooo<br>Intelligence&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; ooo&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Fortitude&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; oo<br>Wits&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;ooo&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Investigation&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;o<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Marksmanship&nbsp; &nbsp; ooo<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Occult&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;ooo<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Control [horse]&nbsp; &nbsp;o<br><br><br><strong>Epic Attributes:</strong>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <strong>Knacks:</strong><br>Epic Dexterity&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;oo&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Cat's Grace [Dex]<br>Epic Perception&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;oo&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Untouchable Opponent [Dex]<br>Epic Manipulation&nbsp; &nbsp; oo&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Predatory Focus [Perc]<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Subliminal Warning [Perc]<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Overt Order [Manip]<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Takes One to Know One [Manip]<br><br><strong>Boons:</strong><br>Animal [Cat]<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; Animal Communication&nbsp; &nbsp; o<br>Sun<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; Penetrating Gaze&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;o<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; Divine Radiance&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; oo<br>Heku&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; Ren Harvest&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; <br>Magic&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;oo<br>&nbsp; &nbsp;The Unlidded Eye&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; o<br>&nbsp; &nbsp;Bona Fortuna&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;oo<br><br><br><br><br><br><br><strong>Advantages:</strong><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<em>Birthrights:</em><br>Relic 3- <em>“Spectacles of Light and Shadow”</em> [preview Sun and Moon, +1 marksmanship]: A round mirrored-lenses set of spectacles often worn low on her nose.&nbsp; <br>Relic 1- <em>“Pharaoh’s gift”</em> [preview Animal (cat)]: Intricate gold ring with green cat’s eyes. <br>Relic 1- <em>“Silver Toe Ring”</em> [preview Magic]: Engraved silver band worn on left middle toe&nbsp; &nbsp; <br><em>Creature:</em><br><em>“Pharaoh”: </em> A male Egyptian Mau cat [creature and guide o/o]<br><br><br><strong>Virtues:</strong><br><span style="font-size: 0.7em;" class="bbc_size"><em><strong>Pesedjet:</strong></em></span><br>Conviction&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;ooo<br>Harmony&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;o<br>Order&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;o<br>Piety&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;o<br><em><strong><span style="font-size: 0.7em;" class="bbc_size">Bastet:</span></strong></em><br>Vengeance&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; oooo<br><br><strong>Legend&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;3</strong><br><strong>Willpower&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 7</strong><br><strong>Legend Points&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 9 </strong> </span> <br><br>Soak: 0/1/2 (A/L/B)<br>Dodge DV: 7<br><br><br><strong>Derringer [x3]: +0 Acc/ +4L damage [.45 colt]/ 10 range/ 2 clip/ 5 speed/ +2 conceal<br>British Bulldog Revolver [x2]: +1 Acc/ +4L damage [.45cal] / 15 range/ 5 clip/ 4 speed/ +1 conceal<br>Yellow boy Winchester Rifle:</strong><br><br><br>Equipment:<br>British Bulldog Revolver x2 with custom holsters [10rds in snap pocket each holster]<br>Double barreled derringer x2, with 2 small holsters, one a thigh holster<br>Knife, lock picks brass knuckles x2, Winchester yellow boy rifle [from Turkish supplier]<br>Various oils and salts and lotions, scented soaps from Paris and Egypt. Shoes, boots, silk stockings, calf length and thigh high. Several Fine Egyptian cotton day dresses in various colors including petticoats. Parasols and hats, corsets and other women stuff<br>One very fine silk dress and one silk ball gown. Various silk undergarments.<br>Cotton pants and blouses, leather pants and vest with bush sytle hat, [folded up on one side], boots.<br><br>4 boxes .450 adams rounds [160 rds], 60 rds. .45 colt for rifle,<br>Lots of money won from the various nice gentlemen on ship during crossing from Europe<br>Saddle bags custom saddle. Purses. A ladies pocket/purse watch. Some spices. Proper English tea.<br>Fine Chestnut Arabian stallion.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>29-05-2009, 02:24:47</strong>
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				Alexandra Catherina Moorland<br>Scion of Bastet<br>Magic and relic hunter<br>Virtue of Vengeance and conviction<br>Nature: rogue<br><br>Lord Richard Moorland was the youngest son, and N’er-do-well, of an English baron. Lord Richard traveled the world having adventures and gambling, meeting all sorts of ‘folks’ and building contacts from Bombay to New York. It was while in Egypt that he had what would become his biggest adventure and gamble. <br>Playing in a high stakes card game Richard became aware of the ancient relics being offered to cover the bets. Though most thought that he had no idea of honor, Richard in fact had a very strong sense of conviction and used his card skills to claim as many of the relics as he could. Leaving the Russian lord and his servants in disarray he fled the city carrying the items deep into the desert in hopes of returning them somehow. <br>Alone and near death one night a woman walked out of dunes to stand over him, cat headed and beautiful. Richard, who knew things, realized he was in the present of Bastet. Thinking he was dead he offered the items and just requested his family be told of his efforts.<br>A week later Richard awoke in Cairo dazed, half remembered nights of passion and healing in his head.<br>Some months past as Richard rebuilt his stake and was about to leave the lands of the pharaohs, when at dawn Bastet again appeared to him. Handing him a new born baby girl, wrapped in cotton, golden hair and pale skin, “this is your Daughter, raise her well, teach her your skills and values, she can walk places the children of the pharaohs cannot, one day I will come for her and teach her what her bloodline can do… till then, my knight, watch over her and love her as I do.”<br>With that the Queen of the cats, goddess Bastet vanished, leaving behind the stunned gentleman and the now awake baby girl in his arms.<br><br>So began the life of Alexandra, “ally” or “kitten” to her father, “Alex” to most others. Traveling the world she learned at her father’s elbow, cards and other games, how to read a person by his ticks and quirks. How honor and conviction were as important as the bluff.<br>As they travelled Lord Richard became well known among those that were true poker players. Building contacts from Bombay to New York, winning, lossing ... living Life.<br><br>Alex learned many things while traveling, she spoke and read several languages, learned all about the fences and con men that traveled in the same circles her father did and how to tell the good from the bad. On one trip she learned to fight in a strange style part dance part art, taught to her by an aged black servant that claimed to owe her mother, capoeira helped her train her body as well as her mind and lift with dance. She learned her father took a dim view on cheaters, even though he could have shown them all up, it was after all skill and luck that won a hand not cheating. She watched as he used his skills to sew vengeance on those he deemed deserving and helped those in need.<br>Rules often just got in the way and were oft times ignored as long as the ‘righteousness’ of the action was proper.<br><br>Alex and her father had traveled to the new world and were on a river boat when she turned 16. It was there that everything came apart. Three men at a table became convinced her father had cheated, drunk, they had lost their money, the ghost rock they carried and their pride and before anyone could react all three attacked Lord Richard, killing him in front of Alex. Grabbing the sobbing girl as they fought their way from the boat they plunged into the deep river and swam dragging her along. Reaching the shore they each took their turn with the girl and left not thinking any more on the subject.<br><br>Alex survived and woke filled with a fire deep and powerful. Making her way back to the river boat she gathered up what remained of the family wealth and set out. It took her 18 months to find each of the three men. Using abilities she barely recognized, she killed the first, with a knife in the back, as he left a brothel in New Orleans. The second she tracked to a cattle drive near Kansas City, leaving him hanging at the end of a rope. The third was the roughest, she allowed herself to again be in his hands, to be ravaged by him, this time she was ready and as he thrust into her, she drove her hair needles into each eye, fighting to survive as her tried to straggle her till his breath stilled. Finally rolling over, covered in the man’s blood with part of him still thrust deep into her, she felt a freedom and stillness then nearly jumped as the woman’s voice spoke.<br><br>“Well done my daughter, I see that you have already begun to learn what are your birthright and the power that goes with it. I am called Bastet and am your mother and come to teach you”<br><br>Alex left and by the time she was 18, she was in Egypt. Learning at her mother’s side, she began to understand things. She came to see the world and the conflict and though she felt proud to be Bastet’s daughter she also came to realize how staid and closed off most of the Egyptian gods were.<br>Her mother gifted her with items to help her missions...smokey lensed spectcles, a golden ring and an hour glass full of the sand of the deep desert her final gift was a rare egyptian mou cat. named Pharaoh who would act as a gudie and companion. As she learned with her mother she met several other scions of the gods and had 2 affairs that have left her very curiuos about sex and all its possibilties<br>Heading back to the new world with instructions to watch and help the mortals for the unnamed titan that had tricked the natives, though dreaming was influencing and forcing things. It was her duty to stop it and to stop the spread of unholy magic and find the relics lost and stolen and in the hands of those unworthy.<br><br><br>So she had headed back to the new world. A world filled with conflict and danger. North vers South, Indian vers the white man, fear and horror stalking all and as she stood on the docks of New Orleans , now the age of 21, she knew she was ready for the biggest gamble yet...that of being a scion.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>29-05-2009, 02:28:25</strong>
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				Pharaohs Legend<br><br><br>Docks; New Orleans <br>On board the steamship, Cleopatra, the boson was worried. The trip had been uneventful save for that cat and the lady he had claimed. Now this boson was wizen and had seen plenty but daily finding the dead rats laid out had at fist baffled and scared the crew. Then the 3rd day they found his lordship calmly setting and licking his paw with 7 of the nasty rodents laid out, dead. Fifty seven rats killed, 57! amazing and now the cat was to leave with the lady he had claimed. What was he to do? The ship would always have need of a ratter like that could he just let it walk away?<br>Standing lost in thought the boson didn’t notice the 2 stop at his feet until a “MEROWWW” broke his thoughts. Looking down the man’s eyes widen for there was his lordship and another cat, the new one leaner and younger he would judge and a bit nervous but looking around as is casing the ship.<br>‘MeroOOWWW’<br>‘Meoww’<br><br>The feminine voice made him start and glance up at Lady Kitterland, “Pharaoh apologizes but he needs to go but this young one has agreed to step into his place. A fine vessel such as this needs a cat that can catch the vermin. Of course the catch is you must reward him as you did Pharaoh. Honeyed Milk and those sardines of the captains’ he feels would be just rewards. The youngling really does not have a name. Now if you would excuse us we really do need to be leaving. Come along Pharaoh” Turning on her heel the lady walked back down the plank, the grey spotted cat with its tail high follows.<br><br>The boson looking down at the yellow and cream cat shrugged and slowly smiled. “Well come on&nbsp; ...Horus...Let’s get you introduced to the rest of the crew and settled in a place you like”<br>&nbsp;
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>29-05-2009, 02:43:17</strong>
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				Pharaoh<br><em><br>"Where is MY honey Milk and sardines!!!"</em><br><br>(http://i357.photobucket.com/albums/oo17/Phaia_Jacobs/egyptian_mau.jpg)<br><br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>29-05-2009, 03:42:20</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>The Tale of the Monkey's Daughter</strong><br><br><br>Chapter One<br><br><br>Ask the Monkey's Daughter about her mother three times, and you shall hear four tales, each taller than the last.&nbsp; Ask after her father and she will spin a story about the man who married her mother and raised her.&nbsp; Ask about her real father, and she will recite the first seven chapters of Journey to the West in a singsong voice while picking your pocket and stealing your watch.<br><br>What is known is this: <br><br>There was a man named Chou in San Francisco who made his coin selling the dishes of his native province to the homesick Celestials in the Land of the New Moon.&nbsp; He was a widower, and without an heir.&nbsp; One morning, on the anniversary of his beloved wife's death, he received a visit from a priest from the local temple.&nbsp; After blessing the kitchen and exchanging small talk, the priest took him aside and spoke thusly.<br><br>"Know this, Chou, I have received a vision from the Benevolent Goddess Herself.&nbsp; She wishes you to go, now, to the docks. There you will find a ship from China with a hold full of daughters bound for the fancy houses of the big-nosed barbarians."<br><br>"I cannot!&nbsp; Who will mind my restaurant?"<br><br>The priest ignored him and continued.&nbsp; "There you will find among the cargo a woman for the People of She, slight of build but with big feet.&nbsp; Buy her.&nbsp; Pay whatever the barbarians ask and bring her back here."<br><br>Again, Chou complained: "What need have I of a woman with big feet?&nbsp; I cannot go..."<br><br>"The Boddhisatva will provide.&nbsp; Would you flout the will of the Benevolent Goddess?"<br><br>Grumbling, Chou went forth and found that all was as the priest said: a ship, arrived that very hour from China, had a hold full of Celestial daughters!&nbsp; For hours he tried in vain to find a woman as described, all the while lamenting the fate of his restaurant.&nbsp; Finally, he found a barbarian in a fine suit who was arguing with one of the sailors over a slight woman with unbound feet.&nbsp; The sailor insisted that the other man had not paid for the woman, and the barbarian insisted that she was not what he intended, as she was both mute and with child.<br><br>Seizing the chance, Chou haggled with the sailor for only a few minutes before the man handed him the woman for a mere four bits!&nbsp; The other barbarian tore at his beard and cursed good-naturedly, and then went on his way.&nbsp; Leading his new property back to his restaurant, Chou found that the priest was as good as his word...better, for the place was prepared for a wedding feast.<br><br>"What is this?&nbsp; Who has come to my restaurant to be wed?"<br><br>"You and your new wife," the priest smiled.&nbsp; "Do you doubt the will of the Benevolent Goddess?"<br><br>"I cannot marry!&nbsp; I am too old!"<br><br>"There are sages older than you who become fathers."<br><br>"She bears another man's child!"<br><br>"A child who will know only your kindly guidance, and will surely give you all due respect."<br><br>"What of her family?"<br><br>"They sent her here, a punishment for her sins, to a land where she might never find a good and virtuous husband of Chinese blood.&nbsp; Yet here you are, and it is the will of the Benevolent Goddess that you take her to wife."<br><br>Chou sighed heavily, nodding his resignation.&nbsp; "Very well!"<br><br>Thus Chou took the silent young woman to wife, and for many months he was very happy: she repaid his kindness with dutiful and obedient care, and he found that his lonely heart was not grown stone cold even after so long.&nbsp; Then came the time for her confinement, and the priest returned, uneasy and troubled.<br><br>"Chou, I have received another visit from the Benevolent Goddess."<br><br>"Yes, what is it?&nbsp; I have done as she asked, and my life is good.&nbsp; What may I do to serve?"<br><br>"You must...the child she bears...No matter what happens, Chou, you must never admit that the child is not yours.&nbsp; Do you understand?"<br><br>Chou frowned.<br><br>"That will not be easy!&nbsp; My neighbors all know that my wife was with child when I married her..."<br><br>"They may talk.&nbsp; But the child must never learn the truth from your lips, no matter what.&nbsp; No matter what!"<br><br>Solemnly, Chou vowed that he would never speak of the matter to his child.&nbsp; Satisified with this answer, the priest departed in some haste.<br><br>Within the week, Chou beheld his new daughter for the first time, and he marveled at what he saw: she had a full head of flame-red hair and eyes the color of molten gold!&nbsp; Remembering the priest's admonition, he looked upon his shame-faced wife and forced himself to smile.<br><br>They named her Sulan, after Chou's venerable grandmother.<br><br><br>Chapter Two<br><br><br>For some years, Chou was a content man.&nbsp; His wife was attentive, obedient, and dutiful.&nbsp; The daughter she bore was likewise attentive and dutiful, but also curious and prone to mischief.&nbsp; Whenever she was not helping her parents run the restaurant, she was found running about like a boy, listening to the storytellers and playing rough and tumble games.<br><br>After seven years, his silent wife took sick during a bad winter and died in spite of all that could be done for her.&nbsp; Heartbroken with loss, Chou left more and more of his business in the hands of employees and took to the bottle in search of solace.&nbsp; His daughter, unable to comfort him, swallowed her tears and ran even wilder for a time.&nbsp; Eventually she was caught at the temple, sneaking in for the sake of mischief, and there she was brought before the old priest who had guided Chou's steps.<br><br>"You are Mister Chou's girl, are you not?&nbsp; From the restaurant?"<br><br>"Yes," she said, taking a proud stance as if prepared to fight the holy man off.<br><br>"I have something for you," he smiled.&nbsp; "It used to belong to your mother, and she left it here for safekeeping."&nbsp; He clapped his hands and an acolyte brought out a set of prayer beads.&nbsp; "It was her wish that you have them when you were old enough."&nbsp; And so saying, he placed them around her neck and chanted a sutra before dismissing her.<br><br>That night, at home, she fell into a listless sleep.&nbsp; And the following morning, she was much quieter than before.&nbsp; Old Chou did not complain about the change: she was easier to live with, and his heart was heavy with grief.<br><br>Thus she grew to womanhood, quiet and obedient, the perfect daughter for an aging widower.&nbsp; Every so often the priest would visit and bless the prayer beads for her, and then the kitchen.&nbsp; The restaurant flourished, and Chou was happy.<br><br>But the day before she was to turn fifteen, a coarse and unkept vagabond came to the restaurant.&nbsp; He roared with laughter and called for drink, chasing other customers away with his horrible manners.&nbsp; Finally, Chou came out to accost the man, only to find himself invited to join a drinking contest.<br><br>"So," the vagabond belched.&nbsp; "I understand you have a daughter.&nbsp; Bring her out!"<br><br>"Oh, I couldn't..."<br><br>"Bring her out, I say!&nbsp; She can serve us."<br><br>Reluctantly Chou called his daughter forth, and the scruffy stranger started at the sight of her hair like fire and her eyes like molten gold.<br><br>"Ah!&nbsp; Most exotic!&nbsp; Her mother must have been quite the woman!&nbsp; Here, girl, pour the wine for us."<br><br>Chou frowned at the man's tone, but made no objection as the girl knelt beside their table and filled their cups again and again.&nbsp; They drank and sang as heroes of old...until the stranger's eye fell upon the prayer beads around the girl's neck.<br><br>Slamming his cup down on the table hard enough to shatter both, he leapt to his feet and grabbed Chou by the tunic, pinning the old man against the wall and shouting.<br><br>"Who has done this to your child?&nbsp; Who has bound her with this rosary?&nbsp; Did you do it?"<br><br>Chou fumbled for the words, but before he could defend himself his daughter rose and bowed to the ruffian, her lip trembling as she spoke softly.<br><br>"If you please, sir, it was the kindly old priest at the temple.&nbsp; He said they belonged to my venerable mother.&nbsp; Please release my father and go."<br><br>"Your father?"&nbsp; The vagabond laughed and dropped Chou.&nbsp; "If he is your father, I am the Dragon King's favorite concubine!&nbsp; And unless your mother is the Benevolent Goddess Herself, those beads never belonged to her, either!"<br><br>The drunk capered about the restaurant, while outside a sudden storm let loose peals of thunder and heavy rain.<br><br>"Tell her the truth, Chou," the drunk crowed, so startling the old man that he cried out even as the ruffian dashed the doors to pieces and raced out into the street, into the pouring rain and the growing dark.<br><br>Sulan knelt by Chou, helping him to his feet.<br><br>"What did he mean, Father?"<br><br>Drunk and dazed, Chou turned to smile sadly at her.<br><br>"Your mother was already carrying you in her womb when I married her," he confessed.&nbsp; "You are not the daughter of my body...but you have been the child of my heart..."<br><br>The girl cried out in astonishment, and the rosary around her neck broke at that moment, spilling beads across the floor.&nbsp; Grabbing Chou by the collar and shaking him, she tearfully begged him to take back those words, to tell her that he was only joking.&nbsp; Yet the old man had already sunk into a deep slumber from the wine.<br><br>Instead, she tore herself away from his side and went tearing after the villain who had thus slandered the man who had raised her!<br><br>Great was the sorrow of Chou, for he never saw his beloved stepdaughter again after that night.&nbsp; Instead he sold his shop and moved far away, eventually finding yet another wife and passing his dotage with a third family, this time as a surrogate patriarch for a widow and her many children.<br><br>Of Sulan and the stranger, there is still more to tell.&nbsp; It is said that theirs was a mighty duel, with the girl seeking to avenge her weeping heart with bold action.&nbsp; Here is a poem that describes the fight:<br><br>Chasing him through rain and storm, <br>she tore her skirts the better to run, <br>a broom handle taken as her sword!<br>A dozen passes made she, yet none struck home.<br>From her rage the old drunk danced away&nbsp; <br>Leaping to rooftops he jeered and beckoned.&nbsp; <br>She, tearing free of sleeves, scrambled after.&nbsp; <br>Another dozen passes they fought, <br>leaping from roof to roof.&nbsp; <br>Through saloon and brothel they fought, <br>fierce pole versus bare hand,<br>filial devotion against emptiness.<br>Yet never could she strike him!&nbsp; <br>Through the night they battled until <br>at dawn's first light they met again <br>upon the temple roof.&nbsp; <br>Her strength spent, her breath gave out,<br>Yet so strong her spirit!<br>She gave one last mighty blow <br>and broke her broom across his head.<br>A son's heart in a daughter's body.<br>Filial devotion personified!<br><br>There, as the sun's first light colored the temple, the old drunk looked as the splinters that lay around his feet and laughed!&nbsp; Then he reached out and clapped Sulan on the shoulder.<br><br>"Well done, daughter!&nbsp; Well done!"<br><br>"Who are you," she gasped, barely on her feet after their long battle.<br><br>"I am your true father," he said, producing a flask of rice wine and drinking her health.&nbsp; "And my name is Sun Wukong."<br><br>As she gasped in disbelieving awe, the old priest rushed out of the temple and shook his fist at the ruffian.<br><br>"You, there!&nbsp; Come away from that child!&nbsp; She is under the protection of the Benevolent Goddess!"<br><br>The Monkey King, for it was indeed he, laughed and laughed.<br><br>"And what has my child done to Kwanyin, to be coddled by her whims and her power sealed by your accursed rosary?"<br><br>Then he swept the exhausted girl up into his arms and bounded away across the city, bearing his child elsewhere.<br><br><br>Chapter Three<br><br><br>Sun Wukong, the Monkey Opened to Emptiness, the Handsome Monkey King, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven leapt into the sky, carrying his daughter to a distant mountaintop far from the city of her birth.&nbsp; There he set her down on a high plateau far from human presence.<br><br>"This is not the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit," he said, "but it will do.&nbsp; I have not much time, and you must be trained..."<br><br>"I do not understand!&nbsp; Why have you taken me?"<br><br>Here he struck at her as a teacher might as student, his hand slapping the back of her head.<br><br>"I talk, you listen!&nbsp; Something is coming, young one.&nbsp; Something big.&nbsp; I can smell it in the morning breeze and hear it on the night wind, like a brewing storm in the distance."<br><br>Seeing that she now regarded him with her utmost attention, he nodded and continued.<br><br>"When that day dawns, the sons and daughters of All-Under-Heaven will need help when Hundun rises to swallow the world.&nbsp; And they sense this: prayers rise hourly to the Most August.&nbsp; Pleas for help, sacrifices for atonement and supplication multiply.&nbsp; But they are too late: the Jade Emperor hides behind reports and endless meetings with his counselors.&nbsp; The offices of Heaven shuffle their reports and pretend that nothing is amiss.&nbsp; That means it is up to me...again."&nbsp; He clapped her on the shoulders.&nbsp; "But as I must be elsewhere, my children must take up the burden.&nbsp; Now come, and I shall instruct you."<br><br>"This is not the Middle Kingdom," she said.&nbsp; "This is the Land of the New Moon.&nbsp; Am I to return to the lands of my ancestors?"<br><br>"Don't be silly," he laughed.&nbsp; "While the scroll-peddlers may care, my interests know no borders.&nbsp; All monkeys are my children, whether they are in China or not.&nbsp; And besides, I like this world!"<br><br>Hearing this, Sulan consented to be trained by her true father.&nbsp; For a year and a day she followed his instructions without question, training hard.&nbsp; He showed her the One Hundred and Forty Four Excellent Techniques and the Sixty-Four Methods.&nbsp; In the evening while they supped, he taught her the Thirty-six Stratagems and the Ten Thousand Ways.&nbsp; He showed her the way of sword and staff, bow and blade, open palm and closed fist.&nbsp; Never did he utter praise where she had not earned it, nor scorn her failings improperly.&nbsp; Many are those in Heaven who would have been amazed, so serious was the Monkey King!<br><br>One day, as they were at rest, Sun Wukong sat bolt upright and looked to the west.<br><br>"The dragons are very angry," he said, just before she felt the ground shake beneath them.&nbsp; "I will have to go soon."<br><br>"Father," she cried out, throwing herself at his feet until he knelt to help her back to her feet.<br><br>"Oh, come now!&nbsp; You are my finest student, and I have stayed overlong as it is for the pure joy of teaching you!&nbsp; Now I must return to the Heavens to help the others.&nbsp; Surely by now even the Jade Emperor must see the peril and act!&nbsp; If he waits until his ministries are burning, it will be too late."<br><br>He embraced her fondly, as an indulgent father might a very small child.<br><br>"Soon you, too, shall have to go forth and walk again among mortal men.&nbsp; As I have not stinted on your training, so I do not leave you empty-handed.&nbsp; Let me show you these gifts."<br><br>He brought forth a sack and gifted her with many things: new slippers for her forthcoming journey, jade bangles for her wrists and a pendant for her throat, and a fine sash of deep green silk with the characters 'Beautiful Monkey Princess' embroidered in imperial yellow.&nbsp; Finally he gifted her with a scholarly sword of exquisite craftsmanship.<br><br>"Bear this with you when you return to the mortal plane.&nbsp; For now it is but a finely made blade, but someday it may yet become a thing of legend."<br><br>He embraced her again, this time as teacher to beloved student.<br><br>"Remain here and train a while longer, Chou SuLan.&nbsp; When it is time to leave, you shall receive omens of portent.&nbsp; And now I must be away."<br><br>Saying this, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven leapt upon a passing cloud and quickly rode it out of sight, leaving her upon the high mountain to grieve anew for a father's parting.&nbsp; For three days she stayed forlornly by the campfire and mourned, fumbling through what rituals she knew to honor her mother and both her fathers.<br><br>On the morning of the fourth day, she found herself kicked awake by a tiny monkey clad in the tunic and trousers of a Chinese peasant.<br><br>"Get up, sad one," the Monkey instructed her gruffly.&nbsp; "No time to weep!&nbsp; Only time to train!&nbsp; One more thing--fix breakfast!&nbsp; You cannot train on an empty stomach!"<br><br>Through the day, the tiny monkey guided her through her training, striking her with his tiny staff whenever she let her attention wander, scolding her like a proper <em>sifu</em>.&nbsp; In the evening, he took up her father's task of lecturing her on the Stratagems: this, he explained at long last, was his role.&nbsp; Knowing he might have to depart before she was ready, her father had tasked one of his court with her further improvement.&nbsp; Having trained his finest Baboon Guards, the monkey declared, a mere slip of a girl was no great trouble.&nbsp; Learning this, she called the monkey 'Uncle', which seemed to please him as much as anything else she did.<br><br>Many more months passed on the mountaintop, and SuLan grew to womanhood as she trained under Uncle's gruff mercies.&nbsp; Then one morning she awoke from a dread nightmare of a vast cloaked skeleton, a great beast striding across the world, bearing a terrible blade before it and sweeping all that lived and breathed and loved before it as a wildfire consumes a prairie.&nbsp; When she spoke of her nightmare to Uncle, he nodded sagely and declared that now was the moment for them to go forth.&nbsp; Heeding his wisdom as though he brought her instructions from her father's own mouth, the Beautiful Monkey Princess gathered her things and descended from the mountains to seek her destiny among mortals.<br><br>What did she find?&nbsp; Read on and find out!
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>29-05-2009, 05:30:03</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				NAME: Katie Sinclair<br>CALLING: Range Vigilante<br>PANTHEON:&nbsp; Dodekatheon<br>PLAYER: Ixy<br>NATURE: Judge<br>GOD: Artemis <br><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td>STR&nbsp; ••&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;DEX&nbsp; •••• [E2]&nbsp; &nbsp;STA&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;••• [E2]<br>CHA&nbsp; ••&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; MAN&nbsp; ••&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; APP&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;••• [E1]<br>PER&nbsp; •••• [E2]&nbsp; INT&nbsp; •••&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; WITS&nbsp; &nbsp;••••&nbsp; [E1]<br><br>ACADEMICS&nbsp; 1&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>*ANIMAL KEN&nbsp; 1&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>ATHLETICS&nbsp; 1&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>*AWARENESS 1&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>BRAWL 1&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>COMMAND 1&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>CONTROL 2&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>*EMPATHY 1&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>*FORTITUDE&nbsp; 3&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>INTEGRITY&nbsp; 3&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>INVESTIGATION 3&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>LARCENY 1<br>*MARKSMANSHIP 5<br>MELEE 3&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>STEALTH&nbsp; 1&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>*SURVIVAL&nbsp; 2&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>THROWN&nbsp; 3<br></td><td>(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/de/Shotgungirl.jpg)</td></tr></tbody></table><br>Birthrights:<br>RELIC 3 - Silver Eye (PURVIEWS: Justice, Psychopomp, Moon) .&nbsp; Hollow, silver ovoid, it fits her eye perfectly, allowing her to close her eye, even to blink, without impediment.<br>RELIC 2-&nbsp; Peacemaker (Damage +2)&nbsp; &nbsp;This heavy revolver is chambered to fire .45 caliber ammunition, and its ebony grip is etched with runes that do not fade.&nbsp; The barrel, guard, and cylinder bears a filligree of entwined women, arrows, and hunting scenes.<br><br>Boons:<br>JUDGMENT (JUSTICE •)<br>GUILT APPARITIONS (JUSTICE ••)<br>UNERRING ORIENTATION&nbsp; (PSYCHOPOMP •)<br>WHERE ARE YOU?&nbsp; (PSYCHOPOMP ••)<br><br>Knacks:<br>SOLIPSISTIC WELL-BEING<br>CAT'S GRACE<br>DAMAGE CONVERSON<br>TRICK SHOOTER<br>PREDATORY FOCUS<br>SUBLIMINAL WARNING<br>INSTANT INVESTIGATOR<br>SERPENT'S GAZE<br><br>Virtues:<br>EXPRESSION 1<br>INTELLECT 1<br>VALOR 3<br>VENEANCE 4<br><br>Willpower: 7<br><br>Legend: 3&nbsp; (POINTS:&nbsp; 9)<br><br>Equipment:<br>SEALSKIN COAT (BLACK), OSTRICH-SKIN BOOTS, SPARE CLOTHES, GLOVES, BANDOLIER AND DOUBLE-BARREL SHOTGUN (SAWED-OFF), GUN BELT/HOLSTER, CANTEEN, MID-QUALITY HORSE, SADDLEBAGS, HOLSTERS, BEDROLL, RATIONS (DRIED BEEF, HARDTACK, DRY BEANS, SEED CORN), SEWING KIT, STETSON OPEN-CROWN HAT, (BLACK) ROLLING PAPERS/TOBACCO, MATCHES/WATERPROOF TIN, CANVAS TARP, EYEPATCH, RAWHIDE CORD SEGMENTS, A FEW DOLLARS AND CHANGE, SHARPS RIFLE WITH DELUXE LONG-RANGE SIGHT, "ARKANSAS TOOTHPICK" BOWIE KNIFE (TREAT AS SHORTSWORD).&nbsp; HORSE (MODERATE STOCK GELDING).<br><br>Bonus Points:<br>7- LEGEND<br>8- EPIC ATTRIBUTES (+1 epic dex, +1 epic perception-- associated powers)<br>2- ABILITIES (+2 marksmanship, favored ability)<br><br>Description:<br>Katie looks to be a shade under twenty years old.<br><br>Her hair still has streaks of the deep auburn color it was during her childhood, though it darkened to an ebon gloss after her change.&nbsp; She pins it up with simple combs of bone or wood, and crops it occasionally, but it's usually tucked under her flat-brimmed, black hat regardless. <br><br>She's slgiht of frame, well proportioned, but not voluptuous.&nbsp; Willowy.&nbsp; Despite her lean composition, her hips flare from a distinctly tapered waist, and she supports a moderate bust.&nbsp; Her arms and legs bear the subtle shadows of fine-tuned muscle. <br><br>Her face is striking-- although she's lovely by most standards, she doesn't strike the viewer as an object of exceptional beauty.&nbsp; &nbsp;Rather, she's a combination of menace and innocence. <br><br>She bears ivory skin, wide and long-lashed eye that seems to sight down purposefully wherever she gazes.&nbsp; She has a slightly upturned nose and a subtly pouting mouth that seems to constantly be straining as if t oconstrain a deeply hidden sorrow.&nbsp; Despite the punishing sun she seems not to burn or tan beyond a slightly golden hue of health. <br><br>Beneath her eyepatch, the lid and empty socket bear the white, faded lines of scar where she was shot in the temple as a girl, the bullet's refracted trajectory having ruined her eye on its exit path.&nbsp; The silver eye she wears in its place, however, is so perfectly natural looking that it's like part of her, though its untarnishing surface might be either surreally beautiful or unsettling to look upon... this, of course, depends on the observer's conscience-- or lack thereof. <br><br>(tweaked on 6/5 with HH's permission)
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>zothab</strong> on <strong>29-05-2009, 15:18:24</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Name: Brandon Whelan<br>Player: bathoz<br>Calling: Inspiring War Hero<br>Nature: Gallant<br>Pantheon: Tuatha de Danann<br>God: Lugh<br><br>ATTRIBUTES<br><br>Physical (Priority 1)<br><br>Strength&nbsp; &nbsp;OOOO<br>Dexterity OOO (Epic 1)<br>Stamina&nbsp; &nbsp; OOOO (Epic 1)<br><br>Social (Priority 2)<br><br>Charisma&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;OOOO (Epic 2)<br>Manipulation OO<br>Appearance&nbsp; &nbsp;OOO <br><br>Mental (Priority 3)<br><br>Perception&nbsp; &nbsp; OO<br>Intelligence OO<br>Wits&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;OOO (Epic 1)<br><br><br>ABILITIES<br><br>Academics<br>Animal Ken &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;1<br>*Art<br>*Athletics &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;2<br>Awareness &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;1<br>Brawl &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;2<br>Command&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;3<br>Control &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;2<br>Craft (Farming)&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;1&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br>Empathy &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;2<br>Fortitude &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;2<br>*Integrity &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;3<br>Investigation <br>Larceny&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br>Marksmanship&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;2 <br>Medicine&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;1<br>*Melee &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;4<br>*Occult<br>Politics&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;1<br>Presence&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;3<br>Science<br>Stealth &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br>Survival &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;1<br>*Thrown <br><br>BIRTHRIGHTS<br><br>The Sword of Light (Xiphos, +1 Damage, +2 Speed, War)<br>Golden Torc, engraved with each of Lugh names (Chaos, Enech)<br><br><br>POWERS: Animal(dog), Enech, Guardian, Health, Illusion, Magic, Sky, War<br><br><br>Epic Attributes<br><br>Epic Charisma 2<br>Epic Stamina 1<br>Epic Wits 1<br>Epic Dexterity 1<br><br><br>Knacks<br><br>Opening Gambit<br>Blessing of Importance<br>Inspirational Figure<br>Holy Fortitude<br>Trick Shooter<br><br>Boons<br><br>Blessing of Bravery (War 1)<br>Battle Cry (War 2)<br>Eye of the Storm (Chaos 1)<br>Hero’s Geaes (Enech 2)<br><br>Geaes<br><br>Duty’s Legendary Geas (Protect the children of Ireland)<br><br>VIRTUES AND WILLPOWER<br><br>Virtues<br><br>Courage OOOOO<br>Expression O<br>Intellect O<br>Piety OO<br><br><br>Willpower <br><br>OOOOOOO<br><br>LEGEND<br><br>OOO<br><br>Legend Pool 9<br><br>SOAK<br><br>B 5/L 4/A 1<br><br>BONUS POINTS:<br><br>15<br><br>Legend 7<br>Addition Stat 4 (Epic Dexterity)<br>Birthright 2 (The second +speed on the Sword of Light – pending Background bonus)<br>Favoured Skill 1<br>Virtue 3<br><br>Physical Description<br><br>Tall and fair, Brandon has a tough, lean frame. He moves deliberately, with every movement seeming thought out ahead of time. His face is open and honest seeming, with blue eyes above a thin-lipped mouth – and it is all framed by a well-kept, but bushy, moustache.<br><br>While he rarely smiles, there’s an aura of authority and solidity around him, that is reinforced by his military manners and bearing. <br><br>Brandon tends to favour rugged frontiersman clothing – jeans and white button shirt, complimented by a flat brimmed white hat. On his right hip is a simple, Schofield .44 pistol – it’s handle nicked and well worn. Two things break the typical cowboy image. Hanging, from his left is short sword with a leather crapped handle. The worked iron pommel is designed to look like a shining sun. And wrapped around his neck is a thick golden torq.<br><br>His sable horse, named Cúchulainn, is saddled in the military style, with a side holster for a Winchester repeater.<br><br>Gear:<br><br>Horse (Cúchulainn)<br>.44 Single Action Schofield Revolver (Copying the peacemaker stats from the book, and increasing the speed by one) (+2 Acc, +4L, Range 20, Clip 6, Speed 5)<br>Winchester Repeater (Acc +3, +6L, Range 150, Clip 15, Speed 6, Piercing)<br>$200 dollars. Union script. His pension.<br>Bed roll and campin’ gear. (Pot, spoon)<br>Cavalry Captain’s Uniform. <br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>30-05-2009, 19:01:23</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Outside of Cairo along the bank of the Nile River:<br><br>Alexandra had risen from the bed, naked, her pale skin and hair glimmering in the soft light that reflected off of the water of the star lit Nile. Standing quietly, so as not to disturb the sleeping male that had shared her bed, she stepped toward the table. The man’s name was Hondo, a scion like she was, a son of Horus, a member of the British local guard and for the past several weeks he had been her lover. With Hondo and his close friend, another scion of the pesedjet, Alexandra had learned that sex could be pleasurable and fun but making love was even better. Perhaps if she had the time she could even fall in love. Wouldn’t that be a great gamble?<br><br>&nbsp;Alex as she was called, by those close to her, walked as silent as a cat to the table. On the table was an engraved mahogany box that had arrived a few days earlier, arrived from some source known to the gods. She had opened it on its arrival to find an hour glass made of the finest crystal and woods and filled, she knew, with sands from the depths of the pyramids. Bastet had told her she would be able to use her gift of seeing when the sands arrived and till now she had been hesitant to try. <br><br>Something drove her now, called to her as her fingertips traced the hourglass. Finally pulling it free from the box she moved to the balcony and sat crossed legged on the mat. Naked under the dim moon and bright stars she began to clear her mind.<br><br>Hondo’s hand gripping her breast and massaging the hard nipple as his other held her wrists behind her back… her moans and gasps as she rode his hard cock leaning her back against his strong chest…the feeling of pleasure that had gripped her as well as the helplessness… the rocking of the carriage…the smirk from Samuel setting across the carriage…faded from her thoughts.<br><br>The wild ride across the desert, Hondo and Samuel and herself, the night air, the whisper of silks and linen…flashing of swords, fists and feet connecting…the sounds of gunfire…Pushing back the zombies that had spilled forth…faded from her thoughts.<br><br>Her father murdered…her rape by the three men…faded from her thoughts.<br><br>Slowly she reached out and turned the hourglass and as the first grains of sand fell she was falling as well, falling into a whirl wind of sand that surrounded her...stinging her skin blinding her.<br><br>As Alex spun in the sand images began to take shape. <br><br><em>A ship on the ocean, in the distance New Orleans…faces and names spoken in her voice…then a sudden harsh fear that made her tremble…dark nameless things barely seen but dangerous…a train car rocking and clicking along the tracks…horses...creatures...monsters…the stench of death…gunfire…swords flashing…<br><br>A man on a horse with a sword at his side, blonde and blue eyed and a name spoken…Brandon…a woman with one silver eye with raven hair…Katie…Red hair as deep as a rose, golden eyes, a monkey tail and a name…Sulan...more faces and names…blood…death…stillness as the sands swirl.<br><br>Then the image of a town emerges, a sign with a name, the faces converging as she stands in a bar, the music of a piano flowing in the grains…fear again…fear and danger and death all rolled together as if trying to make her run…a nightmare cloaked in swirling shadow with a skull's head and a great sword...</em><br><br>Then there was a grey spotted cat talking…talking...meowing…”wake the heck up”… “I want milk now”…<br><br>Suddenly as if a string snapped she was aware again, her breath catching in her chest.<br><br>“Merowww…’bout damn time you came back. I am hungry” the grey spotted cat that was standing on the top of the hourglass was speaking to her. Alex shook her head, trying to get her mind working again.<br><br>“MerrOOww…are ya going to just sit there two legged or are you at least going to introduce yourself and then get me some milk. I am Pharaoh, lord of the mau, and queen bastet begged me to come help you and I agreed as long as we both know who is boss”<br><br>“Yo… You talk, um I am Alexandra” Alex’s eye look up to see the hint of pink as dawn creeps up from the horizon and then she half jumps as from behind her Hondo’s voice speaks, “Alex, I was a worried you were in that trance for hours. I see you have been blessed that is a very rare Egyptian Mau cat that seems to be speaking to you. So tell me what you saw while I have the servants bring some breakfast.<br><br>“Milk…*MeerOOww* umm Honeyed milk and sardines if you have them is requested by Pharaoh, the cat...umm his lordship” Slowly Alex stands and replaces the hour glass in the box. Her naked beauty making Hondo’s breath catch as she walks over to the bed.<br><br>“Well I know I have to go back to North America. New Orleans at least and then someplace else” her voice was soft as she spoke.<br><br>“Enough, damnable ability anyway, maybe I will make you stay. Perhaps as a harem girl, collared and in silks to be at my desire when I wish”<br><br>“Hondo we both know that Bastet would not approve…though it might be fun another time…*giggling at the image*” Alex slides into the bed. “I don’t have to leave right this minute you know”<br><br>As the two kiss a “MERrrrrOOWWW” is heard.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>01-06-2009, 04:09:11</strong>
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				Hey guys.&nbsp; Hope this isn't too out-of-place... part 1 of an extended flashback for my character.&nbsp; It's open for plot crossover, by the way, if Hairy approves.&nbsp; <br><br><strong>CATCHING HELL, part i</strong><br>A story of Katie Sinclair<br>The streets of New Orleans are lean-stoned and riddled with offshoots and alleyways as some living hive, cross-cut and exposed like a half-slaughtered lamb.&nbsp; I've never been in a city this sprawling or this loosely run; it's like hundreds of thousands of people just made their way here and sprawled out, be it atop tombstones, in the doorways or parlors, or on the gas-lit streetcorners, or down the man-wide shoots between masonry walls and iron-topped fences where it was hard to tell the living from the shade.&nbsp; Hell, they don't even care that it's raining.<br><br>It's been hell on this trail... three weeks of cross-country push after push, train rides through open country past plantations of "freed" slaves and gaunt widows and orphans.&nbsp; The War and Emancipation have brought equality to the poor at last; they can suffer and break their backs and die poor side-by-side instead of across the yard, white black and red alike.&nbsp; The rich didn't change though, but they weren't there to see me ride by, my long coat spread along the horse's back as I rode, hat low on my face and weapons shooting up like quills from the horse's saddle.&nbsp; It was the workers that beheld me, and they often stopped to stare from their late-summer work, mopping sweat from streaked, labor-tight faces to stare.&nbsp; <br><br>The land's changed enough to satisfy.&nbsp; Cattle country's become rice plantations, wheat fields gone for sugar cane.&nbsp; I may have started this hot month sleeping under a joshua tree, but I've been finishing it under canopies of Spanish moss, my horse tethered to a magnolia where the nights are mild and wet and sleeping naked doesn't sound so impractical as it should.&nbsp; I draw enough attention being a woman of perhaps twenty years possessing the horseback swagger of a weathered caballero.&nbsp; I don't find joy in seeing the eager attraction in the eyes of courting-age men fade suddenly to fear when my 'good side' profile gives way to a full-on stare at my face.&nbsp; <br><br>The one who helped me be reborn said I was lovely in the fashion of a gilded, fine knife... prettily featured, but with no mistaking my true nature. Personally, I think their reaction's because of my eyepatch; because I don't seem ashamed of it, because it hints at a history of violence they have managed to avoid.&nbsp; <br><br>Regardless, despite my lonesome passage in a city of opportunists, shanghaiers and cut-throats, I'm riding through unmolested, and for that I am grateful.&nbsp; Riding into this city, with its industrial cloud and white-masted ships on the biggest river I've ever seen... it's been like riding into a special chamber of hell, a decent below the sea's level to a city as rich with ghosts as any nightmare.<br><br>I come upon a wide trench in the road I'm crossing, and it's hissing softly with the rainwater that drains into it.&nbsp; "Canal Street," I find myself saying.&nbsp; The fellow I'm hunting is supposed to be a little farther on... the French Quarter, a residence on Rue Du Monde.&nbsp; The canal was supposed to have been insufficient following an April rain this year, and supposedly a levee breached and flooded the town thoroughly.&nbsp; Even by the nighttime glow of streetlamps and moonlight I can see that the lower parts of the walls are stained gray-brown after that flood, like my boots and my horse's flank-- permeated by the waters of many crossings.<br><br>The streets are well-sized, and a passing cart-- a late-night delivery of wheat and sugar sacks that smell, suspiciously, like liquor-- clacks along the paved rue at a steady clip, splashing a torrent of dirty street-water up onto the face of a white-painted brick facade.&nbsp; My horse, weary with my constant driving, seems to have surrendered to the insanity of his rider and offers no complaint as it whirls by.&nbsp; <br><br>He's got a long night ahead, so I hope his mood will last.<br><br>-<br><br>The rain's broken and the moon's come out, reflecting its pale face, from time to time, in the deep black puddles that stand in the street like holes to nowhere.&nbsp; Another young man calls from an alleyway, his accent thickly acadian.&nbsp; "You looking for something, darlin'?&nbsp; You need some company?"&nbsp; those that announce themselves rarely constitute a significant threat, so I don't stop.<br><br>A long, canvas-bound bundle leaves the unlit doorway of rowhouse, workers struggling to maintain the stability of the brown-red stained bundle.&nbsp; There were several already on a flat-bed, and this one was tossed atop the others.&nbsp; Cholera.&nbsp; A little while later, through a yellow-tinged window I can see the silhouette of a woman dressing.&nbsp; I can't see her, but I imagine that she's beautiful, because I'd like her to be.&nbsp; There's the wail of a reed instrument of the kind I once heard at a show in Kansas city-- it was called an oboe, and its sound was eerily low and beautiful and here, in these rain-slicked streets where everyone lived close and died close and fucked and ate and worked in the same old chambers of stone and brick and wood, it was the most haunting sound she'd ever heard called music.<br><br><br>When I reach Conti street, I've found a cloister of New Orleans' wealth.&nbsp; The interior I can make out through some of these doors is like some kind of dollhouse... chandeliers of real crystal, huge, like the drooping ice-laden boughs of a sycamore.&nbsp; Colors of gold and red and virulent green, draperies of fine linens and silks lining high walls and ceilings, paintings of people and places like I've never seen.&nbsp; I can hear fiddles and brass instruments from one such home, where one of the finest-dressed gentlemen I've laid my eyes upon stands at the door with gloved hands at his sides, a wide-flaring tophat of black silk at his crown.&nbsp; With a mild shock, I realize he's a doorman.<br><br>"Four-nineteen?"&nbsp; I call out, bringing my horse to a halt so his metal-shoed hooves don't echo over my voice.&nbsp; He lifts his black face toward me, and I can see the gleam of moonlight across skin like well-oiled, old leather.<br><br>He has a moment to assess me before he proceeds.&nbsp; "That residence is not one I'd advise a young lady to call upon," he answers.&nbsp; I catch him blink and realize he's not looking upon me with his milk-clouded eyes.&nbsp; "Even one who rides a rage-shod horse, and therfore must have come a long way."&nbsp; Somehow, I feel that the blind man is seeing me with the same kind of knowing that my own missing eye can see him.&nbsp; <br><br>Those who I heard tell of New Orleans described it often as a city of wonders, temptations, threats and decadence.&nbsp; The superstitious said that was only half of it... seeing the man before me, and feeling the vibration of his awareness of me, the certain confidence and mystique of his self seeping out-- oh, yes, I could believe it.&nbsp; This city was rich with mysteries and corruptions far beyond me, and I was best to reach my destination and be done.<br><br>"Begging your pardon, sir," I call.&nbsp; My voice is crisp against the smoothed stones of the street, and he seems to accept the respect as if it's overdue.&nbsp; "It's not by my&nbsp; choice."&nbsp; His blind eyes blink once more, almost luminous in that dark face amid the dark night.&nbsp; And the one that brought me here enters my mind, and I can feel something from within that home behind him, and I know he's looking through me and into that memory.<br><br>-<br><i><b>Sancti Spiriti, North Texas.&nbsp; Twenty-one days prior.</b><br>When I came upon the town, there was smoke coiling into the bruised and ruddy sky in long, inky trails, as if the sky was seeping from several wounds, long threads of black blood trickling in rivulets toward the horizon below.&nbsp; The town itself was shuttered up tightly, its horses stabled and its children crammed into the stuffy heat of the crowded pine-board homes.&nbsp; It'd been over for sufficient time, however, that my arrival seemed to coincide with their mutual decision to ease tension.&nbsp; I was regarded with the usual trepidation that I've come to know and expect, though one boy-- bold, perhaps out of exceptional courage, or perhaps a result of minimal brain-- came at my horse at a steady run.&nbsp; "You're that lady gunfighter they's been writin' bout, aintcha?&nbsp; You that One-Eyed Kate?"<br><br>A woman in full bustle and bonnet came rushing to collect the youth at about the same time that a handfull of drunken men-- ranch hands, from the look of their boots and dungarees-- staggered onto the porch of the Sancti Spiriti Saloon on the heels of a well-dressed, but equally drunk, oil man-- this last one sported a waxed mustache that simply gleamed in the hard light of the summer afternoon.&nbsp; <br><br>The boy's mother wrapped an arm around him like a bustling hen, hissing admonishments into his ear and edging away from where I sat my horse.&nbsp; "Ma, this here's one-eyed cate, like my penny novel--"&nbsp; he fished a tattered bundle of yellowed papers from his pocket, waving it in a flutter before his mother's face.&nbsp; I didn't like the name... completely unoriginal and with no poetry to it at all... but I kept my piece.<br><br>"There AIN'T no such person as One-Eyed Kate.&nbsp; This here gentlem-er,lady's just... passin' through, 'sall-- you an' your stupid funny books--"<br><br>"Ma'am," I said, tipping my hat and catching her eye in doing so.&nbsp; I can usually keep a person's eye once I have it, so I keep my eyes on hers and lean a little lower in the saddle, bending from the waist.&nbsp; "The boy's just fine, he ain't botherin' me.&nbsp; Might I ask, though, what's the cause of all the... disturbance, and what's the nature of them fires yonder?"<br><br>The lady looked up.&nbsp; She was quite nice to look upon... very clean, with little blonde ringlets damp against her forehead.&nbsp; I wasn't sweating, despite the heavy coat, but I doubt she'd noticed.&nbsp; Her mouth moved, and she made as if to flee.&nbsp; She fully intended to, that's for certain-- no one wants to get involved, not many willingly play party to my brand of inquisition, nor the perceived betrayals of the kind of monsters I must hunt.&nbsp; It's as if they would prefer to believe they've somehow avoided the evils that preceed my necessary intervention if they manage to ignore them and deny their existence.<br><br>I wouldn't let her leave, though.&nbsp; To anyone at a distance without spyglass or an eagle's eyesight, I was merely a lean figure on a horse, hands visibly at peace on the reigns, speaking politely to a well-dressed woman and her lad.&nbsp; But in actuality, I had just reached out to her soul and, with no more force than necessary, given her conscience a slap on the ass.&nbsp; "Wake up," I said curtly.&nbsp; "And tell me what happened here before it's too late."<br><br>She blinked rapidly, seemed to go a bit paler, but didn't break my gaze.&nbsp; I could have kept her there for an hour, but it wasn't necessary.&nbsp; Although the boy seemed a bit concerned, she remained unhurt, showed no fear or distress-- she merely started talking.<br><br>-<br><br>Bodies were piled into pyres, smouldering and spitting smoke into the sky, charred but not consumed.&nbsp; Blood tainted the dry earth here and there, drawing trails of ants and circling, sniffing coyotes.&nbsp; A child's doll, a little plaything of corn silks stuffed into rag cloth, lay half-burned at the base of one smouldering pile.&nbsp; Clothes fluttered softly on the ground, the wind too weak to stir them further, as if the people in them had been taken directly to another world and left them empty on the ground.&nbsp; In a sense, they had... they wouldn't need the tattered garments, knees and elbows darned and patched... they wouldn't need the simple cotton shifts or the worn leather shoes that looked like they'd walked a thousand miles.&nbsp; They were poor, they had almost nothing, and that which they owned was now just litter on the earth.<br><br>One of my tricks is that I can piece things together from tracks, or scuffs, or broken twigs or toppled lamps or drawers left oddly ajar. That day in Sancti Spiriti was no exception, and I deduced the nature of the scene in seconds:<br><br>The men and women had been separated, the men made to dig trenches with shovels.&nbsp; The shovels, they already had... these men were migrant workers of a sort, and the shovels were among their few posessions.&nbsp; The women and children had been separated off to a side-- probably to discourage the workers from attempting escape.&nbsp; The men had worked well, and quickly, but there was no hope in it for them.&nbsp; Undoubtedly, they had looked skyward, scanned the horizon, prayed and hoped that the townsfolk would send help.&nbsp; A sherriff and deputies, to notify the marshall-- if they couldn't be saved, perhaps their families would be spared.&nbsp; If none would live, then perhaps their murderers would be stopped before--<br><br>They'd been shot halfway through their work.&nbsp; Their executioners hadn't the patience, or perhaps the time, to wait while the men dug, the women cried and whispered, the children bawled in confusion. The women were them combed through... their numbers reduced, they were easier to control-- the old and very young had been next, left to bleed out on the cracked earth far from the trenches.&nbsp; There had been raping, stripping of clothes-- that explained the garments strewn about-- the stock had been appraised and tested, in a sense.&nbsp; Those of marketable value were taken and the rest were finished off and piled in with the others.<br><br>Judging from the concurrence of tracks, shoe sizes and arrangement of tracks, it was clear that there were about twelve men, and they'd taken six girls with them.&nbsp; The girls were on the younger side, generally, from what she could tell.&nbsp; Slave stock.<br><br>She'd risen from the point where the group had ridden off.&nbsp; "Damnation."&nbsp; She looked off to the east-- the tracks were heading for the Alabama line.<br><br>Fourty-seven bodies, half-cremated, half-cooked, smoldering in puddles of pitch.&nbsp; Buzzards were circling, coyotes dotted the horizon all around.&nbsp; <br><br>"Damnation," she'd said again.&nbsp; She turned to face the little town-- the town hadn't hazarded a soul-- these bodies were the flesh of outsiders, of sub-humans, to them.&nbsp; It was easy to turn their backs, and they'd be back to business soon enough.&nbsp; The dead were those of a lower social caste, of a different species.&nbsp; In exchange for their complicity, their silence, and their liquor, had been left alone and they'd been done with it.&nbsp; These people had died unaided, unmourned.&nbsp; <br><br>Because they were Chinese.<br><br>Rail-workers, families-- refuggees from the west, the west that fell off the fucking map.&nbsp; Survivors of horrors that this little town had never seen-- those that had avoided doom only to find it again in Texas.<br><br>"Fuck that town," she said coolly.&nbsp; Settling her hat onto her head, she checked the chambers of her pistol, the double-barrel, the Sharps rifle and the Winchester.&nbsp; <br><br>She spat into the dust, watching the horizon as the slinking shapes of coyotes disappeared and reappeared in the summer heat.&nbsp; <br><br>"Fuck that town."<br><br>-<br></i><br><br>"You've come a long way, child, to complete this errand."&nbsp; The man in the top hat, his teeth white like ivory when he smiles at me, has lifted the brim of his hat to show me his face.&nbsp; By the gas light, I can see he has a silver ring through each earlobe and his face has a thin white powdery beard.&nbsp; "But you paid little mind, child, to whose quarter you were coming to."&nbsp; He lifted his cap from his head.&nbsp; "My lady might object to your taking such an interest in four-nineteen of the Rue de Conti, especially seeing as you have the way about you of one who's not going dere for a smoke and some jelly roll."<br><br>The laugh that follows is charming, malicious, and endearing, all at once.&nbsp; I didn't recognize the phrase, but I caught the meaning nonetheless.&nbsp; How much of me he'd seen with those blind eyes, I can't say, but somehow I doubt I've found his house by accident.&nbsp; <br><br>"Sir... I am keepin' you from something of import, I am sure... you must have been expecting company, and I did not mean to intrude--"<br><br>"Oh, child, I was expecting company."&nbsp; He smiled that wicked smile once more.&nbsp; "I was told to expect it.&nbsp; I was told to expect <i>you</i>."
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>03-06-2009, 06:43:54</strong>
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				Sorry for the double-posting, guys.&nbsp; Especially with this huge post.<br><br>I hope it's, at least, entertaining *s*<br><br><strong>CATCHING HELL, part ii</strong><br>A Story of Katie Sinclair <br><br>The fury's been in me for many years.&nbsp; Some times it's like a burning&nbsp; in me, a seething at the edges of me like I was a tinder taken to fire, not all consumed at once but with a glow at the edges.&nbsp; Properly provoked, a breeze stokes those coals from a dull glow to a blazing orange heat, and I can't help but consume whatever fuel's in my way.&nbsp; It seemed that every time I flew into a rage, I incinerated some part of myself in the process, charring and consuming my insides and leaving nothing but a husk when the rage had passed.&nbsp; <br><br>After a rage, my heart always felt like brittle, papery ash, hollowed and dead and fragile.&nbsp; I hated that emptiness, like even my pain-- the things done to me as a child, the unjust, evil things I had to watch done in the world-- it had nothing to dampen it, nothing to distract from it.&nbsp; I would fold in on myself, time and space becoming a tiny cocoon, and I would wait to die, like I might bleed out inside my body from this hole where my heart should be.&nbsp; But I lived each time, just enough time to find more fuel for that fire.<br><br>That kind of rage stays at bay, now.&nbsp; When I changed, I learned to tap it, to feed it at will and not be swallowed by it.&nbsp; And I learned to use it for what it was meant for: revenge.<br><br>SPIRITUS SANCTI, TEXAS.&nbsp; 21 DAYS AGO.<br><br><i>Kicking up a dust-devil on my route to the township, I tore up huge chunks of clay and scrub grass, with my hat-cord drawn tight under my chin.&nbsp; The gelding I rode was frothing, his hooves pounding like the steady rumble of a great machine, and I bore down on the speckled horizon, the black flourishes of trees on skinny hairline trunks, the striations of trees and outbuildings approaching and receding into periphery.&nbsp; The sky was growing pregnant with rain as the midday heat eased away, and the horizon was all steel and iron in thick bands, making the whitewashed houses and stores into stark teeth on the darkening earth.&nbsp; The brown stubs of sheds whirled by, and I passed the picketed silence of the cemetery, the lonely, hollow spearhead of a church steeple.<br><br>The furnace in my heart was hissing and groaning with the stretching heat, and a surge of fury made my fingers clutch at the reigns, filling my mouth with acid and bristling my hair into quills.&nbsp; <br><br>Their faces would not leave my mind-- charred, blackened with the fire, melted like wax here and papery black there, small and weak alongside the strong who had labored their lives for their families.&nbsp; Those who sacrificed all, those who bled and wept together, finally, in that final clutch of fear as their prized daughters were plucked from them, those whose faces were now black smears in a perpetual sigh of resignation, or were charred to screaming skulls who could only stare eyelessly from the simmering, spitting pitch fires.&nbsp; Those who had lived and could not beg for justice for they had no mouth, for they had no tongues, for they had no breath left to scream.<br><br>Thus I made for the town square with the certainty and destructive force of a bullet, and I would not stop until the speed and mass of my rage had found a home.&nbsp; As it turns out, that destination was the office of the sheriff on main street.&nbsp; <br><br>Dismounting the horse, I was at a tare when my boot took the pine door, its resin-stained surface splintering and buckling at the force of it.&nbsp; The wood-burned placard reading 'Sheriff Jim Pendergrast' bounced across the shorn plank floor and skittered to a halt at the clawed foot of the room's predominant feature-- a broad oak desk.&nbsp; I am not a particularly strong woman, but I am a determined one, and doors frequently obstruct me from my prey though I seldom find it necessary to destroy them.&nbsp; The sheriff's office was a cigar-reeking chamber with cheap wooden chairs, the broad claw-footed desk, and a hanging oil lamp with a flower-etched shade of frosted glass.&nbsp; The walls were unfinished board, nailed with tatterred and yellowed prints and etchings of faces, figures, and ordinance notices that fluttered in the wind of the coming storm and the force of my unbidden entry.<br><br>As one might expect I had been in the offices of law enforcement officers before.&nbsp; I supposed that from the size, if this was like the offices to which I'd had the privilege of acquainting myself in the New Mexico Territory, then the detainees would be housed in a dugout somewhere off-premises with a rough door and bushels of chain to spare.&nbsp; Larger towns had courthouses with whole cells for prisoners, and some Marshalls and Sherriffs had respectable bars like a lion cage in their office.&nbsp; Since detaining prisoners typically requires courage, I expect that the local interment site saw little use.<br><br>Sherriff Pendergrast himself was not present, unless he was the harelipped young man with a tin badge before me.&nbsp; The young man jumped to his feet so fast that his chair clattered to the planks behind him with a solid crack, and the bawdy-book he was flipping through landed like a wounded bird some feet away.&nbsp; He gaped, his eyes bugging wildly and his mouth fumbling for words-- the impression made him look like a fish gasping on dockside.&nbsp; I had landed afoot at a dead stop, my ostrich-skin boots more than my shoulder's width apart, my duster cast off my holster-bearing hip where my hand waited like a hovering viper.<br><br>"The Sheriff, please."&nbsp; I said sweetly.&nbsp; Mama always taught me that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.<br><br>The young man's look went from the sheer blanch of fear to a reddening of humiliation, and he tried to muster rage and indignance.&nbsp; His voice broke as he overstretched his voice and tried to pull the revolver from his hip.&nbsp; "WHO THE F-"<br><br>I had snatched the revolver from his holster and hefted it in my hand like a shopkeeper presenting her wares.&nbsp; He choked on the words as he saw himself disarmed, but I could tell he wanted more to beg than curse when I whipped it, overhanded, at his face.&nbsp; I knew that a pistol-whipping was not a merciful alternative to shooting, though less lethal.&nbsp; &nbsp;I stopped the gun before his thick nose, however, letting it hover before his eyes as blinked in surprise.&nbsp; The gun rattled in my hand-- cheaply made, its parts fitting together and functioning, but not reliably so-- as I ejected the cylinder.&nbsp; Five primer-caps and five paper tubes of gunpowder spilled onto the floor with a soft hiss before I tossed the gun, which shattered the warped frame of a tintype over the desk before both crashed to the floor.&nbsp; <br><br>"You keep the first chamber empty."&nbsp; My nose was an inch from his nose, my eyepatch an inch from his eye.&nbsp; He was mutually horrified and surprised at the proximity of a girl to him... there was that change in his eye as he went from scared to a kind of excited, demonstrating that uniquely male sort of hope that defies logic when there's pussy involved.&nbsp; "That's smart.&nbsp; So it don't go off and blow your foot away."&nbsp; He swallowed, the prominent Adam's apple rising and falling a half a foot on his long, skinny neck.&nbsp; I removed my pistol from its holster-- the weight of it is so familiar, so well-balanced after the cheap weapon I'd just removed from the youth.&nbsp; "The Sheriff.&nbsp; Where." I held the gun by my thigh, feeling its eagerness like the goddess herself grinning at me with that predatory, beautiful smile.<br><br>He swallowed again and looked me over, and stupidly his mind tried to grasp control over the situation.&nbsp; The sound of my pistol-- the hammer ratcheting back, the certain 'cli-click'&nbsp; of the cylinder lining up for a blast-- and his bravado turned back to water.&nbsp; That, combined with the look I returned to him, finalized the desired impression in his mind-- that I would kill him for fucking sport if I had to wait one more second.<br><br>"Th-- the Double Iron."&nbsp; I'd seen the place.&nbsp; Cheap-looking saloon.&nbsp; "He's b-been there since the men come through..."<br><br>I turned away from him and went through the open frame of the door.&nbsp; "Best start running," I said.<br><br>"Wh-what?"&nbsp; On the porch, I turned on my heel and crouched, aiming my pistol up through the doorframe.&nbsp; He stepped back, trying to form pleas with his lips but found no voice.&nbsp; Until he saw what I was aiming at-- just above the pile of powder on the floor...<br><br>"JESUS FUCK--" and he took off at a run for the back of the office, hopefully in the direction of an exit, just as I fired once.&nbsp; <br><br>Knowing that my horse was gun-broken would have been an advantage, but I was beyond such forethoughts... my shot snapped the facets of the hanging lantern above the desk, sending it crashing to the floor with a hearty splash of oil and the shattering of the hooded glass.&nbsp; I stepped clear of the doorway as the powder went up, sending a burst of splintering wood and smoke, and the room was spattered with burning oil in an orange blossom of fire.<br><br>The horse turned out to be gunbroken after all, thank the lady, but he still bucked at the fire and the smoke, so I snatched his reins and hauled him away as I holstered my pistol.&nbsp; "One more call to make."&nbsp; The wind was whipping now, and my had left my head where my black hair was pinned in a bun.&nbsp; The storm was coming as surely as the sun was setting, and the twilight-violet of the street was soon drenched in a wash of bright amber that cast stark shadows, starker by the moment as the Sheriff's tinderbox of an office was taken by that hungry flame.&nbsp; My own shadow danced madly in the flickering orange glow as I led my horse up the street towards the Double Iron.</i><br><br>NEW ORLEANS, CONTI STREET.<br><br>The white-eyed man rests his hand on the muzzle of my horse and I watch him, my eyes half-lidded eyes and downcast from where I sit the saddle, as he takes the reigns from me.&nbsp; I grip the horn with a black-gloved hand and swing my left leg up and over the saddle.&nbsp; I find the solid masonry beneath my boots disconcerting, just as I found the broad expanses of streets and buildings stifling and disorienting.&nbsp; <br><br>Everything is too close in this city.&nbsp; Everyone is right there on you.&nbsp; I can see through lace curtains across the way where a man is shaving his face.&nbsp; I can hear cats mating in their yowling, agonized fury from at least three streets away.&nbsp; I can hear the bedsprings squeaking from a loft down the road, I can hear glasses clinking at a bar three blocks up.&nbsp; I feel the rumble of another passing wagon that grinds the fine grit of the street beneath steel-hooped wheels.&nbsp; I can tolerate the deluge of information, and I can handle myself well enough in a city, but it's an uncomfortable sensation.&nbsp; <br><br>Somehow, the well-dressed black man mollifies this concern with a casual confidence.&nbsp; I realize, standing before him without the aid of a horse, that he's probably no less than seven feet in height.&nbsp; "I'll watch over tha horse, miss, and your things here."&nbsp; That accent of his is soothing too... something like the Southern I have myself, mixed with the French my mother used to read books aloud in, of which I never understood a word.&nbsp; "Don't worry, miss.&nbsp; Go inside, have some supper.&nbsp; The gentleman is waiting."<br>The doors are narrow, side by side with a dark surface lacquered to a fine glossy sheen.&nbsp; They are inset with a pair of ovular windows, each end pointed with an iron inlay and crisscrossed with fine laces of lead.&nbsp; With the reigns in his hand, the man with white eyes opens these doors and stands aside for me to enter.<br><br>I follow his indications removing my had and, by habit, carrying it at my right hip where my holster rested patiently.&nbsp; The foyer that greets me features a high ceiling where the walls taper to opposing balconies for the upstairs.&nbsp; This open foyer fashion is reminiscent of a plantation manor I once visited, but on a much smaller scale as if to emphasize the crowded opulence of a wealthy city.&nbsp; All the room glows with the subtle orange of a light that is not oil or gas fueled, but spills from a chandelier suspended directly overhead in a cascade of crystal-refracted light. My boots echo on the tiles of the floor, which are made of smoothly ground black stone and fine white marble.&nbsp; There are doors on either side of me, and I can see a stairwell up ahead that rounds the corner to the upstairs, and across from its first step is the only open door I can see.&nbsp; That must be where I am expected, though so many closed doors stir the hackles on my neck.<br><br>The doors close with a soft click that rattles their glass lightly, and I cross that immaculate floor with steady steps, all the while trying to ascertain the presence of any others nearby. What is there I more feel than hear, for the home seems to be rife with presence and company that can't be seen.&nbsp; I am starting to grow used to noticing that kind of presence, and though it unsettles me, it is as much a part of the ambiance in any old city as the smell of the river is to this one.<br><br>The clinking of glassware and china from that open door puts me somewhat more at ease, as does the wafting smell of cooking that, I notice, immediately brings water to my mouth.&nbsp; I've eaten nothing but jerky and corn mush for a few days.<br><br>I fill up the doorframe an inch at a time.&nbsp; A candelabra lights the table despite the suffuse glow that permeates the room, glinting off of silver trays and painted china.&nbsp; A man at the head of the table stands to meet me, and for a moment I'm stuck where I am, unable to breathe.<br><br>His smile, so warm and easy and calm.&nbsp; He's older than I by what looks to be nearly ten years, with skin the color of creamed tea and eyes like the steely smoke of a cannon.&nbsp; Broad shoulders, concave cheeks, a broad chest like the hull of a boat under red silk vest, the crisp ivory shirt beneath open by two buttons.&nbsp; His hands are long and slender, protruding from white cuffs that sport a pair of mother-of-pearl links.&nbsp; Slavery's at an end, but he strikes me as a man who could never have truly been in servitude.&nbsp; <br><br>In his eyes, I must be akin to a groundhog.&nbsp; My dusty coat, my worn men's pants and cracked leather vest over a shirt yellowed and thinned with wear-- my hair a tangled pleat at the base of my head and my eyepatch marring what could be a very pretty face.&nbsp; So I'm a bit shocked when he reaches for my hand, his long fingers taking my own and giving me a gentlemanly handshake.&nbsp; "Kathryn Sinclair," he says in a silky bass, and I want him to say it again immediately.&nbsp; "You are as striking as your reputation."<br><br>I almost blush at the compliment. The eeriness of the situation-- the sheer magnitude of my attraction, which is flipping my heart against my ribs and sending a warm rush through my lower belly like a spring thaw-- becomes an object of despise in me, and I swallow and lick my lips before I speak with all the steadiness I can muster.&nbsp; "You have me there, Sir.&nbsp; I don't recall having made your acquaintance."<br><br>He releases my hand and gestures for the seat opposite him at the white-clothed table.&nbsp; "Baptiste DuMonde.&nbsp; Please sit, Ms. Sinclair.&nbsp; Have some supper, please."&nbsp; He sits first, and sets about opening a green-glassed bottle of wine labeled with words that I take to be French.&nbsp; "I know you have a long night ahead, and I won't keep you from your business.&nbsp; But I want you to be prepared first."<br><br>Baptiste effortlessly pours from the bottle into two long-stemmed crystal glasses, and he doesn't lift his smokey eyes as I stare him down, but I do join him at that table, though I feel a twinge of regret when my dusty jeans find the goldenrod cushion, as if my presence might permanently sully this place.&nbsp; I reset my hat on the empty tablecloth at my right, and shift my hips cautiously so that my holster rests in the nook of the chair, ready to be taken at a moment's notice.&nbsp; "Prepared for what, precisely?"<br><br>Finishing the pour, he places the glass before me and takes a sip of his own-- as if to reassure me, silently, that it's not poison.&nbsp; "I know you're here for Flinchum," he says in that lovely, brassy way of his.&nbsp; There's no menace, no chastising.&nbsp; No hint that this is, at all, an inconsiderate act.&nbsp; "But I want to discuss a couple of things with you first, so that you don't go into that mess ill-prepared."<br><br>"You know him?"&nbsp; I ask, and I know I must sound incredulous.&nbsp; "And you don't have any objection?"<br><br>Smiling that warm smile, he opened a rollback silver tray, producing a cloud of steam.&nbsp; "We have red beans, rice, lamb,"&nbsp; the aroma spurs my stomach to a fierce demand, "and creme brulee.&nbsp; The finest on this continent, I believe."&nbsp; He studies my response, doesn't belittle me by explaining precisely what that is.&nbsp; "I think you will enjoy it, Miss Sinclair.&nbsp; And, as I said, you must have much to do, so... unless you object I'll explain while we dine."&nbsp; With that, he forks a slab of lamb onto the finest china plate I've ever seen.&nbsp; <br><br>What transpires then is like a staredown.&nbsp; He sees through my eyepatch, of that I'm sure, for he locks eyes with whatever it is in me that can hunt men and dodge bullets and see across miles and miles.&nbsp; I see something akin to it in him, but can't put my finger on it.&nbsp; He knows I know, and that I do this as much of choice as he does to invite me within his home.&nbsp; <br><br>I take a long, slow sip of the wine, and it's the finest I've tasted.&nbsp; I have little knowledge of wines, but I know that it rolls on my tongue like sweet smoke and honey, full and beautiful like how life should be.&nbsp; I swallow the wine, and we begin the meal, and Baptiste begins to talk. <br><br><br>SPIRITUS SANCTI, TEXAS. 21 DAYS PRIOR<br><br><i>There was a commotion from within the Double Iron saloon as I approached.&nbsp; Though it had nothing to do with me, I would not have slowed even so.&nbsp; In the horizon behind me, the young deputy was feebly trying to fill buckets from the hand pump out back of the Sheriff's office, which was by now an orange torch on the burnished violet skyline.&nbsp; The screaming inside the saloon was a young woman wailing and crying, a round of laughter and a round of curses and arguments.&nbsp; The reek of liquor was nauseating even before I opened the spring-hooked door to the saloon, which creaked with the rage of a maddened bird.<br><br>Riotous laughter stopped with the abrupt collision of a herd rushing headling to stop dead at a fence.&nbsp; One or two voices lingered on, the owners to drunk to notice me.&nbsp; One heavily drunk bastard even let fly a wolf-whistle of the type one might use at a bawdy-show.&nbsp; Cigar smoke was thick enough to ripple with the breeze of the coming storm outside, and I let the door slam itself shut behind me.<br><br>In a moment, I'd ascertained every face in the room, including the clamorously screaming young woman who, despite the crying wails before, had quite the gaudy smile on her heavily painted face that rapidly melted into a scowl at having lost the room's rapt attention.&nbsp; The Double Iron saloon featured a table for playing English Billiards by the window on my left, and one of the players there steadied himself on a pool cue and leaned in within a foot of my face.&nbsp; "You lost there, Nancy?&nbsp; Need yourself a bed to stay i-hII--" and his voice broke off as I swept his drunken feet from beneath him, sending him sprawling face-first into the broad wooden gunwales of the table where his teeth-- what remained in his hoary face prior to our encounter-- managed to break his fall before he reached the floor.&nbsp; The blood that spurted was immediate and profound, and the sound sickening enough that a general hiss and grunt of shock resounded from the cheap seats.<br><br>A pimp-looking little rat of a man from the nearest corner drew down on my immediate flank.&nbsp; Something about his eagerness made me think that this wasn't his first time shooting someone in the back, and he relished the notion and opportunity.&nbsp; Simultaneously, another barn-broad man with a full white beard and confederate cavalry jacket-- yes, I remember them well-- was the first to step forward from the mahogany bar on the far wall next to what might have been a faro table.&nbsp; This one bore only his beer and a fist in aggression toward me, so I opted to give him a chance to prove his chivalry.&nbsp; I snaked one arm over the pimp's and wrenched my opposing hand under his wrist, snaring his gun-hand in a vice before he could take aim.&nbsp; I saw clearly in that briefest of moment that his hammer was back-- he would fire wildly in hopes of grazing me, burning me, or deafening me.&nbsp; I wouldn't let him, of course, but I thought it best not to waste the opportunity.<br><br>The bearded cavalry-- god, what horse could have borne that rotund bastard?-- bore down on me and I spotted my target-- a glint of bright, broad metal at his waist-- a massive buckle.&nbsp; I lowered the snaggly youth's arm for him and let him discharge the round-- the gorilla from the bar hunkered over and keeled back with the force of the slug, gripping at his lower belly with the horror that he may have just caught a gut wound or, worse yet, become a eunuch.&nbsp; <br><br>At this point, I utilized the snarl of a lad's weight to toss him to the floor, his pistol in my hand long enough for me to bury the butt between his eyes.&nbsp; An inch lower and I could have killed him easily with the weapon, but as it was he'd, at best, have a permanent squint.<br><br>The fury was boiling up inside me, fed-- not sated-- by the bloodshed, until I bore down my gaze upon the Sheriff.&nbsp; His brown eyes were almost black, his hair like crow's down all salt and peppre at his temples.&nbsp; His nose was too large for his face, as if it'd been broken many times and reset.&nbsp; I typically find this trait endearing, but in Sheriff Pendergrast I found it revolting.&nbsp; "You," I said, and watched as the whites of his eyes became visible fully around the ebon irises.<br><br>"What do you wa--"<br><br>I crossed the floor and the trollop who'd been fawning and mewing for attention a moment earlier sprung to her feet.&nbsp; She was overmade, but not ugly, though her outfit was little more than undergarments in the gaudiest of greens I'd ever seen.&nbsp; "You can't just--"&nbsp; I spun her aside with a shuffling of my feet and twist of my hands at the whalebone corset on her waist, and suddenly she faced the poker tables.&nbsp; I gave her a little shove and she sprawled, her heeled shoes struggling to maintain footing for her laudinum-soaked brain.&nbsp; <br><br>"You the law," I said to Pendergrast.&nbsp; No other guns had come out, mostly because they were terrified, but partly because I hadn't yet skinned my .45.&nbsp; "Ain't you?"&nbsp; I knew the answer.&nbsp; I'd pegged him-- a combination of the pinholes in his jacket where the badge would sit, the blurry tintype I'd destroyed on his office wall earlier, and the snotty bearing of his waxed beard and mustache.<br><br>He chewed on air for a few beats, then coughed as if he'd forgotten how to breathe.&nbsp; "Madam, you have me confused for--"<br><br>Standing before him now, my head came merely to his chin.&nbsp; As I've said, I am not an imposing figure in size, but I have a knack for finding cowardice.&nbsp; "You ain't the Sheriff then?"&nbsp; I asked in a shrill, accusatory hiss.&nbsp; Everyone heard, and a few grumbles of disapproval followed this gutless charade.<br><br>One more man said, "naw, he's the badge here," though I didn't care to seek him out.&nbsp; <br><br>"Well, Sheriff, there's been a whole shitload of murders in your town."&nbsp; I bored my gaze through his skull and tried not to pull my pistol to kneecap him down to the ground, where he belonged.&nbsp; "Was you awares?"<br><br>Sweat beaded.&nbsp; Probably half of it pure alcohol, from the look of him.&nbsp; "C'mon, we got some investigating to do--" <br><br>"What do you want from me, eh?&nbsp; What's your game, you little... freak!"&nbsp; The liquor must have kicked in a notch, because he'd gone cleanly from amnesia to divine warriorhood before my eyes.&nbsp; "I will have no accusations from a godless little cretin-- WHORE-- from off the plains, who never set foot in my town afore--"<br><br>The hackamore I used to hobble my horse at night was tucked neatly into my coat until that moment, when I whipped it out and over the Sheriff's head.&nbsp; Naturally there was some commotion at this, and before I had tipped his balance-- not so easy as one might think, because though he was clumsy with drink he was also fortified by it-- and he was surely fumbling for his firearm that-- to be sure, I had checked-- he apparently left in his now incinerated office.&nbsp; <br><br>With a clamorour howl, the crowd tried to converge on me, but my pistol was in my hand before they could reach me.&nbsp; One shot over my head was all that was required-- the earlier report of the ambushing sharp's colt pistol was like a firecracker by comparison.&nbsp; I cannot explain to you why this is, except that perhaps each bullet from my Lady's gun is imbued with a little of the piss and vinegar I feel when I fire it.&nbsp; Plaster rained from the ceiling as my bullet struck the chimney on the roof and shattered one of the bricks to dust.&nbsp; The crowd milled backwards in shock, and I drug my quarry out into the square.&nbsp; <br><br>"I think somebody's gonna hang for this, lawman."&nbsp; He was kicking and cursing with choked breath as I drug him from the warped planks of the porch into the dust of the street by the rope I'd hooked under his chin.&nbsp; The night was still lit by my handiwork up the street, and I made for the closest thing to a gallows I could find-- the church's steeple.&nbsp; <br><br>Voices ran together in a torrent of cursings and musings and oaths, but I ignored them, mostly.&nbsp; One voice, though, raised above the rest when they beheld the suffuse glow of wind-whipped fire in the night.&nbsp; "Is that the Sheriff's office?"<br><br>Lightning chased rings around the town from seven miles out like great white vultures moving in.<br></i>
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>05-06-2009, 11:28:30</strong>
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				I am tired, but kind of excited to share this.&nbsp; I hope somebody likes it.&nbsp; It's flawed, sure, but it's a first draft.&nbsp; Thanks for the time guys, and looking forward to the game.<br><br><b>CATCHING HELL</b>, part iii<br>A Story of Katie Sinclair (conclusion)<br><br>I've drawn out the meal as long as I can.&nbsp; The silver in my hands is cold and nimble as I cut the lamb.&nbsp; It's rubbed with rosemary and some kind of smooth oil that I can't really place, but that makes it complex and delicious.&nbsp; I'm conscious to use the closest thing I can approximate to table-manners, which means I place my napkin over my lap and keep my elbows off the table.&nbsp; I try not to show how very hungry I am, nor how much I'm enjoying just sitting and <i>looking</i> at that man, at his concave, smooth jaw, his silvery gray eyes' sparkle when he smiles.&nbsp; Baptiste, I've decided, is horrendously dangerous because he knows exactly how lovely he is.<br><br>I find it best not to be completely ingratiating when I'm already at a disadvantage, because doing so is admitting that the conrol is in another's hands.&nbsp; So this time, it's not vinegar that I offer at first, exactly, but the honey's a bit more sour than usual.&nbsp; "It's been my experience, Baptiste, that most people get rich either through inheritance or dishonesty."&nbsp; I sip the wine.&nbsp; "You've been most cordial to me, but I'd like to know, if you don't mind, just which exactly is the case with you."<br><br>He smiles wryly at this, wiping his mouth with the satiny white cloth from his lap before he answers.&nbsp; "I was born a slave, Miss Sinclair, but I was fortunate enough to find freedom at a very young age."&nbsp; He lifts his wine and sips, his gaze flowing up from the crimson globe to my face with a steadiness that is neither defensive nor accusatory.&nbsp; "My Benefactor saw to me, though, and found it advantageous to help me see the world."&nbsp; His mouth quirks a bit as he recalls the time, a gesture that I take as genuine only because it could afford him no advantage.&nbsp; "I was raised in Versailles, London, Paris, Rome... I saw boarding schools across Europe, immersed myself in everything I could learn.&nbsp; In fact, I only returned to this country only a few years ago."<br><br>Listening, I swallow a small mound of beans and rice before prompting him.&nbsp; "So you didn't have a home, really?"&nbsp; <br><br>He grins at that, seeming to relish the prospect of answering the question.&nbsp; "My mother here in the territories wrote me frequently, it's true.&nbsp; But my benefactor-- my real father-- he was the one who kept care of me, really."&nbsp; He smiles, adjusts his posture and crosses his legs as he reaches for a hunk he'd sliced of a pale and narrow loaf of bread.&nbsp; "He sent me visitors, took me to carnivals, helped me study and showed me amazing things-- fireworks over the Seine, the galleries of Rome, the great ruins of Giza.&nbsp; Things I would never have dreamed of here, things I would prehaps have glimpsed in a book, were I fortunate enough to learn how to read.&nbsp; Now, I've read Aristotle, Locke, Rousseau, Sun Tzu... He's given me everything I have.&nbsp; But don't you see?"&nbsp; <br><br>He grins at me then, one steely eye closing in a subtle wink.&nbsp; I think something in my lower regions melts in response.&nbsp; "None of it matters, my dear.&nbsp; All of it is one big mirage, you see? Il fantome.&nbsp; What matters is not that I make money with my shipping business, or give money to my benefactor's people, but that I serve a purpose."&nbsp; With a barber's precision he shaves off a piece of lamb as he explains.&nbsp; "Most of the Loa's chosen... they have next to nothing of material value.&nbsp; This is fine-- we can take what we need, and love not what can be measured in number."&nbsp; He takes a small bite of the meat and chews it neatly, swallowing before proceeding.&nbsp; "This house lets me have the mayor for supper.&nbsp; People who, out in the street, expect me to cross to the other side when they approach-- because of my color?-- they will share cigars with me in the drawing room.&nbsp; I even drank bourbon with Jefferson Davis on the patio garden."<br><br>I must have a look of incredulity on my face, for he continues with an apologetic shrug.&nbsp; "I do not tell you these things to impress you, Miss Sinclair, merely to illustrate my point."&nbsp; He rests his fork and lifts his wine again.&nbsp; "My people-- those of the Loa-- we this city has been built on our ashes, with the sweat of our brows, and from the labor of our backs.&nbsp; The saints of New Orleans?&nbsp; Our own Loa.&nbsp; The French Market by the river out there?&nbsp; It moves by our grace.&nbsp; The mayor sits in his house because of our labors.&nbsp; From the bayous to Jackson Square to the mansions of Baton Rouge... and yet there are some who would drive us to the gutters, who would hunt us."<br><br>My fork hasn't moved, I realize, as he pauses to sip his wine.&nbsp; I let it rest on the now-empty plate and nod gently.&nbsp; I'm not begrudging him that motive.&nbsp; "Flinchum."&nbsp; I reach for the wine, and by the time my fingers rest on the glass, he refilling it from the bottle.&nbsp; <br><br>He nods at me grimly.&nbsp; "It's not pretty work.&nbsp; But acting against him would be very risky for our investments."&nbsp; My glass now half-full, he refills his own.&nbsp; "At least, directly.&nbsp; You understand, I know."&nbsp; His eyes say he does.&nbsp; They say he's not afraid of Flinchum, and he doesn't like being so removed from the process.&nbsp; At least, that's what I see in his gaze.<br><br>"Your dirty work, then."<br><br>He doesn't bat an eye.&nbsp; "You were going to kill him anyway, were you not?"<br><br>I breathe a light sigh, and my one visible eye fixes on the expanse of white tablecloth between he and I.&nbsp; "My lady..."<br><br>"Artemis," he says.&nbsp; He makes the word sound as beautiful as it should.<br><br>"Yes.&nbsp; My lady does not like being used in another's schemes."<br><br>He blinks rapidly, as if offended, but containing his anger.&nbsp; "I would never insult you like that, Miss Sinclair.&nbsp; Vengeance is a righteous thing, and from what I have seen your work is immaculate."&nbsp; I watch as he speaks.&nbsp; "I merely wish to make sure that what you intend to do does not fail."<br><br>I don't like it.&nbsp; It feels as if I'm playing a pawn, which I detest, to have someone standing behind me and egging me on.&nbsp; But this isn't a logical thought.&nbsp; It's pride, and I must admit that the justice of my actions must be greater than that pride if I'm to be true to what my lady chose for me.&nbsp; I'll kill the fucker because he needs killing.<br><br>"What's he done to you?" I ask as I set my glass down on the table and lean closer to him, my face a placid mask of certainty.&nbsp; <br><br>Baptiste shrugs and studies my face, and seems to enjoy what he sees.&nbsp; "It is more a matter of what he will do, unfortunately.&nbsp; You know about his drug trade, and his selling of slaves.&nbsp; Well... he has designs for the families of very powerful allies, and we cannot allow this to happen."&nbsp; <br><br>I pause to consider refugee women he took to sell.&nbsp; I can't help but wonder if they are still alive, or if they would care to live after seeing the atrocities done their families.&nbsp; I wonder what they've suffered since their taking, for my own such suffering at the hands of men was by instance, not as a routine over weeks.&nbsp; It was still horrible to remember, though the goddess had alleviated that pain, had given for me to understand the many degrees of separation between what was done to me and what I have chosen to enter into with others, even with her, since.&nbsp; Even having healed more than many in my position are able, the scar of those moments still burns deep in my heart.<br><br>"I can help you get to him," says Baptiste.&nbsp; "But it will not be easy.&nbsp; The address you are seeking is a boarding house in name, but it is a boarding house by name.&nbsp; It it, his men sell girls and boys, opium, liquor and poisons and killing services."&nbsp; He sighs, tracing his fingers on the table top, lovely hands with pale fingernails, smooth arching tendons that would be heavenly to feel in a caress.&nbsp; "He has professional men, good killers.&nbsp; But he is the one you must fear."<br><br>I don't reply to this, there's not much more to be said.&nbsp; Or so I think.&nbsp; I know already what the tales say... that he carries an eight-gauge shotgun on the rage, that he's built like a bull and boasts at his prowess with fisticuffs, and he's supposedly killed seven men in such matches.&nbsp; I've heard that despite his size he's fast as lightning, but that most of the people he kills never see him coming because he prefers the ambush.<br><br>I've heard that he wears alligator skins on his jacket and hat and boots, though I've only seen alligators in books and newsprints from the coast.&nbsp; He carries a knife like the Arkansas boys used to throw for fun when we were waiting for action--- big as a damn spade.&nbsp; They called them 'toothpicks' when funning around.&nbsp; But I hadn't heard what he says next.<br><br>"He's like us."<br><br>I exhale slowly and look up at his eyes with the steady realization that, yes, he's right.&nbsp; And I should always have known this, should I?<br><br>"He's not <i>exactly</i> like us.&nbsp; He's made from the old ones."&nbsp; The meal in my stomach, lovely as it was, feels heavier now.&nbsp; "Le Diable."<br><br>I realized I've pursed my mouth in thought.&nbsp; "Okay then," I say softly.&nbsp; "I might need a cup of coffee before this one."<br><br>With a smile that looks to carry an inkling of admiration, he slides a saucer and mug to the center of the table.&nbsp; "I'm sure it will compliment dessert marvelously."<br><br><br>SPIRITUS SANCTI, TEXAS.<br><i><br>The storms was whipping rain against the street with a vicious, needling persistence.&nbsp; The sheriff was gurgling and stumbling behind me, gasping when he managed to get to his feet and stumble along at the noose I'd cinched under his chin.&nbsp; He couldn't stop cursing me, but I wasn't really paying him much mind.<br><br>A noisy crowd had braved the weather and the growing dark of this night to witness the spectacle.&nbsp; That was good, because I was going to need them.&nbsp; "You cain't do that to a law-man, you crazy she-wolf whore!"&nbsp; "I done told you that was One-Eyed Kate--" "And I done told YOU that there ain't no such person, she's just a story-book nothin'!" "Lord, go fetch the preacher, she's a headin' for the church!"<br><br>And I was, indeed, bearing down on the church, a mission-style building that was probably one of the first structures built in the town's occupants, which were white ranchers, tradesmen, and tin-mine workers.&nbsp; The whitewashed, clapboard walls were well kept, and the narrow windows overstood small clumps of flowering gardens.&nbsp; Beyond stretched a wide, picket-fenced yard of wooden crosses and, occasionally, white slabs like awkwardly placed teeth to mark where the wealthy rested.&nbsp; The Sheriff had regained some breath and was trying to snatch the rope from me, but I managed more by dexterity than brute strength to maneuver him to submission again.&nbsp; <br><br>The preacher had beaten us to the doorstep and, at my appearance before the stoop, flopped dramatically to his knees-- the gesture was made more humorous by the nightshirt he wore over his portly frame.&nbsp; His dark hair was lank and dark with rainwater.&nbsp; "Our father, who art in heaven" he started out, clasping his hands dramatically before his bespectacled nose, "hallowed be--"<br><br>Encouraged by his vulgar display of piety, the crowd tried to rally.&nbsp; "Preacher, talk some sense into this crazy wildcat--"&nbsp; "Yeah, preacher, we need some peace talk here!"<br><br>His display enraged me, and my voice was like a tornado's scream.&nbsp; "You prayin' now?!"&nbsp; I levered the Sheriff to the ground beside the preacher and pressed my gun to the lawman's temple.&nbsp; "Huh?&nbsp; You gonna pray that nobody makes a mess of your pretty little church?!&nbsp; How 'bout when the very fucking devil you fear rides into your town, did you bar his way?&nbsp; Did you pray for your god to save you from him?&nbsp; Or did you not mind him killing all those yellow-skinned people, right where you could hear the shots, right where you could hear'em cry and scream?"<br><br>My accusations had interrupted his prayer, and evidently he'd lost his place.&nbsp; He started another, "Merciful father--" <br><br>The fury turned my vision to a searing red.&nbsp; "MERCY?!"&nbsp; I kicked the pastor's face with one hard boot-heel.&nbsp; The impact of the blow was sufficient to send out one high, crystalline note from the spur on my heel.&nbsp; Blood misted up from the preacher's ruined nose with a spluttering hiss and he flailed about, finally curling into the tucked-up position as one might see see a babe sleep, tucking itself up for protection.&nbsp; "WHAT MERCY?&nbsp; The mercy that keeps you rich and fat?&nbsp; Is that the selfsame mercy that had them workmen and their families wandering the fucking desert?&nbsp; Waiting for a gang to rape their daughters and blow them'n their wives' n'their kids' heads off?"<br><br>The crowd was silenced with shame and horror, so I ignored them.&nbsp; I headed through the broad doors of the church, spotting the narrow stairs for the bell tower right away.&nbsp; My body felt weak suddenly, exhausted with the effort of trying to haul about the Sheriff, so I planted the muzzle of my gun at the base of his skull.&nbsp; I directed him, thus, to climb.&nbsp; "The rest of you bastards go get a damn shovel."<br></i><br><br>NEW ORLEANS, CONTI STREET<br><br>Baptiste's words ring in my mind as I ride the horse at a walk up Conti Street.&nbsp; The night has made the shadows long and the masonry walls violet and gray, and the moon is emerging fat and orange-red in the cloud-shattered sky.&nbsp; The heat of the day fades into a sultry night of shadows and catcalls.&nbsp; A woman and three men careen past me opposite of the roadway, her feathered hat dancing with the lolling of her head as they all laugh and wail at the night.&nbsp; Walking the horse, my head is down, the long weapons at rest by either thigh, both hands hanging on the reigns.&nbsp; I'm like a ghost slinking its way toward the reenactment of its death.<br><br>The door of 419 is broad and tall, french-doors with glass panes etched with an inlay of ferns and flowers between black wood panels.&nbsp; The low glow of a gaslight casts a grisly pallor on the bowler-wearing, long-mustachioed sentry at the door.&nbsp; His tweed and barrel-chested presence recall to me a Pinkerton I once befell in Dodge, and he catches sight of me and watches me in the unobtrusive way that a good watch-dog will: silently.<br><br>I walk the horse toward him, head still down.&nbsp; Directly, relentlessly, I am closing the distance with the rhythmic clip-clop of my range-shod gelding on the gritty, pulverized stone of the way.&nbsp; I think of the tens of thousands of souls who've walked this road, and I wonder how many came this way before this city sprung up cancerous on the shore of the river.&nbsp; I wonder how many remember this same walk as the last lucid memory of their natural life.&nbsp; I wonder how many will die tonight.<br><br>The guardsman's thick jaw and thick shoulders visibly tighten as I draw closer, and I realize just how good of a sentinel he is.&nbsp; He can sense my intent, and he's not nervous or frightened in the least-- his reaction is only from certainty, growing with each resounding step of my horse. He wears a billy club at his waist, a pistol under his coat.&nbsp; The time is nigh, and he must chose. Is it time to fire, or does he give me warning.&nbsp; Like the gears of a clock churning, exposed to the air, his mind is logical and obvious and systematic.&nbsp; <br><br>Maybe he was a soldier.&nbsp; Maybe he really is a Pinkerton, I can't tell for sure.&nbsp; <br><br>He can see that I'm a girl.&nbsp; He should shoot.&nbsp; If he's wrong, he'll catch hell.&nbsp; If he doesn't I might kill him.&nbsp; There's the sound of a high, rich laugh from inside the building, and the rapid sawing of violin music.&nbsp; A moth flutters its shadow across the glass shade of the lantern beside his door.<br><br>He acts.&nbsp; He pulls the revolver from his hip with the steady certainty of one with the advantage, and though his instinct was true, it was too slow in coming.<br><br>The catch on his holster yields with the rustle of leather on leather, and the sure grip of his pistol is in his finger has him dragging it from its sheath immediately, ready to aim, ready to fire.&nbsp; <br><br>With the sound of a wet log tasting the axe, he careens backwards and chokes a wet breath where my knife has buried itself between the twin knobs of his collarbone, just below his Adam's apple.&nbsp; The blade and handle of this knife are over a foot long together, and most of the blade is hiding in his chest now.&nbsp; <br><br>This was how we entertained ourselves between fights, as I mentioned... we would throw knives for sport, laughing and wagering for tobacco or silver buttons we'd clipped.&nbsp; We called the great blades 'toothpicks' in fun.<br><br>Like a good fighter, he tries to keep his feet and get off a shot, but his body is in the rigors of agony beyond reasoning, and his pistol too heavy to lift.&nbsp; I shift slightly to my favored side, adding a little weight to the right stirrup so I can dip and snatch the blade from his chest without dismounting.&nbsp; With him making a wet sucking sound as he clambors from the doorway to the street to die, I slip the knife-- still saturated with his blood-- back into its sheath at my thigh.&nbsp; I ease the shotgun from aside the saddle and loop the reigns on the gaslight's stem.&nbsp; I leave the Winchester, as the proximity inside will, without doubt, make it a liability, though I'll miss its deep magazine.<br><br>I stoop for long enough to take the doorman's firearm and tuck it into the front of my belt, then-- keeping my back to the brick of the archway, ease the doors open and let the shotgun lead the way within.<br><br><br>SPIRITUS SANCTI.<br><i><br>We had a lovely view of the burning office from up on the ledge of the church's steeple.&nbsp; I left the Sheriff standing in view of the expiring fire, its extinguishing now left to the elements.&nbsp; The man's hands were at his back, bound by my own rope, and he was standing at the belfry's precarious ledge which was slicked with rain and wind.&nbsp; The long rope of the church's solitary bell was knotted around his neck.&nbsp; <br><br>Pendergrast had started his pleadings and cursing anew as I paced the tiny catwalk, my Sharps rifle in my hand with the action tucked protectively under my sealskin coat. I could take a few steps and survey the work on the outskirts of the town-- the work the whole of the town had mutually agreed to ignore.&nbsp; <br><br>Their story came clear quickly after I had the Sheriff settled in.&nbsp; The preacher had mumbled the tale between condemnations after I set his broken nose.&nbsp; Flinchum had cowed them long before, and on this visit he had exacted protection money as often he did.&nbsp; He'd expressed a bit of interest in the refugees-- whom the townspeople had voted could camp no closer than one thousand feet from the furthest structure of town-- and had gone out to investigate with his twelve men.&nbsp; The scene then played out much as I expected, and rather than risk his wrath at their involvement they had opted to drink themselves to ignorance.<br><br>The rain changed, falling instead in heavy leaden drops that beat at the backs of the men and women of the village who now worked at the place of the slaughter, but they dug continually in the muddying earth, cutting the shape of over twenty shallow graves.&nbsp; The preacher was out there with them now, where I'd sent him with his book to pray for their souls.&nbsp; I watched him arrive, noting even at this distance that no one spoke to one another, nor made eye contact.&nbsp; The preacher read aloud from his bible though the pages soaked with the rain.<br></i><br><br>NEW ORLEANS.<br><br>In the first room, there's another Flinchum man.&nbsp; I have little time to study him, and aside from that he is bald on top, I can see he carries a sap and pistol.&nbsp; By some remarkable luck-- or misfortune on his part, rather-- he is in the middle of a broad yawn when I open the door to find myself immediately before where he sits.&nbsp; The violin music is louder now that I am inside, and the laughter of several men and women rings up all at once.&nbsp; <br><br>I have the briefest moment to pull my knife again and drive it under his neck like the placement of a saw, where a rapid back-and-forth splits his flesh to the spine before he can draw a breath with which to challenge me. The gore of such close killing is profuse.&nbsp; I haven't felt arterial spray since the War, and I do not relish it this time.<br><br>From here, I know that the knife's purpose will be insufficient, so I return it to its place as the man I've just killed sags onto his chair and sidles onto the blood-slicked tile of the entryway.&nbsp; A high, open arch before me leads me to a wide, high-ceilinged room with red on red, paisley walls, tapers on the walls betwixt extravagantly framed paintings of women in the nude.&nbsp; Beneath a dangling, elaborate chandelier with crystal teardrops, a dozen people are mingling about-- an old man with a white mustache dances with a quadroon girl.&nbsp; He wears pinstriped pants and tails, and she wears frilled bloomers and stockings, her bare breasts pressed tight to him as they waltz in awkward time to the tune of the violin.&nbsp; A man with cane and top-hat stands with his arm entwined with a woman close to his own age-- perhaps his wife, or perhaps the madam-- whose huge crown of white hair features a bright ostrich plume.&nbsp; She is fanning herself and pressing close to the gentleman as they study the frame of a buxom blonde as she sits a red stool before them.&nbsp; <br><br>No guards can I see, though there is a bartender beyond a curtained arch to my right, although he has not noticed me.&nbsp; I tuck the shotgun into my blood-spattered coat and duck my head, letting my had cover the flecks of red on my face.<br><br>I pass the fiddler; he plays beneath the portrait of a woman being mounted from behind by a centaur, and he tips his head.&nbsp; A full-figured octaroon woman carries her substantial figure at the arm of a gentleman as she escorts him down a broad, curving staircase.&nbsp; The newel post boasts a gaudy statue of a nude woman carrying fruit. I make my way up the stairs rapidly, hoping to reach Flinchum before there is gunfire.<br><br>At the top of the stairs, I smell opium smoke.&nbsp; I pass several closed doors, some of which echo with the squeaking of mattress springs and the chirping cries of a woman faking pleasure.&nbsp; Although the shotgun in my coat has been sawn down by a full foot, it still feels awkward in these close quarters.&nbsp; I reach the end of the hallway, and there's a turn, and at that turn a man rounds the corner to face me.<br><br>It's not but a moment before he makes me for my purpose here, and he pulls his pistol immediately.&nbsp; The shotgun's answer is like thunder, and the man's torso becomes perforated and his blood mists a spitoon stuffed with peacock feathers in the hall's corner.&nbsp; I ease back the hammer on the second barrel as I reach where he's crumpling to a writhing, dying heap and I peek, quickly to the right where he'd come from.&nbsp; A heavy, paneled door with a big brass pull waits there, closed and still.&nbsp; Questioning voices and women's cries fill the hallway, so I round the corner and brace myself for an onslaught from either side.&nbsp; Doors open and faces peek out from the guest rooms, but I wait.&nbsp; The heavy door opens and two men with Winchesters tumble into the hallway.&nbsp; I fire again, and at this distance I hit them both with the shotgun blast, though not as solidly as I'd have preferred.&nbsp; <br><br>I round the corner back toward the guest rooms to give them a moment to shoot back and bleed while I break down the shotgun and reload with as much rapidity as I can muster.&nbsp; The practiced action takes a moment, and I can hear them groaning between unaimed shots that shatter the feather-vase and mar the gold-foiled trim and dark paneling of the hallway.&nbsp; I am still watching behind me for someone from downstairs, or perhaps from the guest rooms, when I hear clumsy, lurching footsteps on the carpet.&nbsp; I reach the loaded shotgun around the corner and fire both barrels blind, and the footsteps stop, followed a split-second later by the sound of a body landing hard.&nbsp; <br><br>Smoke spills from the barrels as I break the weapon down again, reloading it hot and slamming it shut.&nbsp; I crouch low and peek quick, then pop back to the selfsame hallway I am in.&nbsp; A body before me with his rifle askew some feet away, one man scooting on his ass back toward the heavy door.&nbsp; He fires his Winchester when he registers that I am spying him, but he hasn't much chance to aim.&nbsp; I gauge the height and distance with a rough guess, then angle the shotgun around the corner without presenting my head.&nbsp; I fire one barrel, adjust my distance a bit, then fire the next.&nbsp; I peek again, and he's prone and convulsing.<br><br>The whores and johns have, undoubtedly, hidden themselves under their beds at this point, so I know that the figure that emerges from the stairwell is not some curious bystander.&nbsp; He fired at me and damn near hits me with a long-barreled pillbox gun, and I scramble around the corner and cast the shotgun aside.&nbsp; My revolver gun-- my <i>lady's</i> gun-- hisses its way eagerly from its holster and barks one blast.&nbsp; The barman from downstairs, stocky and fast, he's taken cover in at the top step when he catches the round somewhere in the forehead.&nbsp; He looks utterly surprised before his head flops back down out of sight and I hear his body falling down the steps, as if he never would have thought I'd possibly make that shot.<br><br><i>Well, a trench full of Unions didn't think I could make that shot a few years back.&nbsp; They ain't around to question my aim no more.</i><br><br>I check once more to see if I'm followed, then keep my back flat to the wall as I sidle up to that big door.&nbsp; It doesn't budge, and through the crack I can see some kind of bar has been moved into place.&nbsp; Drawing the knife into my off-hand, I prepare to try to lift the bar from this side, but there's a commotion of footsteps on the hallway behind me.&nbsp; <br><br>Perhaps too late, I realize that the place might have a basement, and that if Flinchum has a weapons business, it's probably down there away from the customers' eyes.<br><br><br>SPIRITUS SANCTI.<br><i><br>Pendergrast called me again, his tone having returned from rage and terror to a mere desperation.&nbsp; "Look... I know, I never did nothing.&nbsp; I should have helped them people. I should have tried to stop Flinchum when he first come through, I coulda wired for a Marshall.&nbsp; I see the errors I've made..."<br><br>His voice was trembling with cold and sincerity, but I didn't reply.&nbsp; He kept trying.&nbsp; "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.&nbsp; I'm a terrible cur.&nbsp; I'm a bastard.&nbsp; I'll quit, I swear it, I'll find a new Sheriff who'll ne'er let this come back 'round.&nbsp; I'll fix it, I swear it!"<br><br>At that, I answer.&nbsp; We're alone, but I speak softly as if I don't want his Jesus down in the church to hear me.&nbsp; "You gonna fix them?"&nbsp; I wasn't looking at the Sheriff, just continuing to watch the murdered be cared for.&nbsp; His voice croaked out a resigned roar, wet with the spit and mucus and rain that soaked his bearded face.&nbsp; I lifted my hat from my head and turned my face to the black sky, letting the cold rain soak my skin like it did those out there dead under open sky.&nbsp; I let it wash me clean as Pendergrast choked and spluttered behind me.<br><br>I removed my eyepatch then, let it dangle from my fingers.&nbsp; I turned to face him, and he looked upon me without those affectations and he saw the real me.&nbsp; He saw the delicate features of my face, he saw how few years I'd known and how breaking those years had been.&nbsp; He saw the thin pale scars at my left eye and the dull silver glimmer of the eye my lady gave me.<br><br>The sound me made then was like the disappointment of a child, and he sucked in his breath.&nbsp; He knew then what I was, and he knew what he was, and that was all that was left for him to know.<br><br>He stepped from the belfry ledge, and the rope snapped taught when his weight hit the end. The bell started to clamourously peal, and the shifting weight of it kept his neck from snapping clean-- his eyes bulged and he began to wriggle at the end of the line.&nbsp; The bell rang out again, the clapper inside slapping the iron hull harder with each return stroke of the flailing body on its rope.&nbsp; The Sheriff lost his bladder, his eyes bulged and his tongue lolled from his mouth in a grotesque mask in his silent, pinned-bug death, the moment that would last forever and end in oblivion.<br><br>I cut the rope with my blade, and his body tumbled the remaining ten feet to land before the church step.&nbsp; For a moment his throat would not work, then he sucked a wet, choking breath, vomited, and coughed as he inhaled some of it.&nbsp; The bell still echoed its hollow metal announcement as he lost consciousness there on the ground, his breath violent and desperate, but ceaseless.<br><br>That was the last I saw of Spiritus Sancti, for then I set off for Arkansas to follow Flinchum.<br></i><br><br>NEW ORLEANS<br><br>The door to my right was what some call a broom closet-- with a depth of about eight inches, it doesn't make for a very acceptable cover point when one is in a firefight.&nbsp; My best estimate is that there are four or five men around the corner, and two of them at a time can share that firing point if one crouches.&nbsp; Lacking the time for diplomacy or surrender, I curse and fill the empty chamber in my pistol with a .45 bullet.&nbsp; I check the pistol I lifted from the guard downstairs, and it seems to be in working order and loaded to its capacity of six rounds.<br><br>I am pressed as flat as I can and am rather glad, momentarily, that I'm not particularly well endowed or I might have already some of that endowment in the hail of bullets they are sending my way.&nbsp; I gauge the distance and fire off several rounds from the dead man's gun, knowing that without aiming I will most likely miss entirely.&nbsp; When it's empty, I make a point to cock the hammer again and let it fall on an empty cylinder.&nbsp; I let them think I am firing wildly and do not realize I am out of ammunition, and like a baited groundhog it's not a moment before one thick, eager, bearded head pops around the corner to aim, then the other.&nbsp; "I got her, I GOT THAT BI--"<br><br>Two reports from my lady's gun come almost together, like a double-tap on some massive snare drum, and both those men's heads snap back on their necks, fresh holes in the bridges of their respective noses.&nbsp; They fall utterly limp with no lizard-brain left to command their bodies.<br><br>I can't help but grin a bit at the eloquence of the cursing that follows this little display, though I can't really enjoy it because, as I've mentioned, I have no real cover in this hallway.&nbsp; So with the whisper of my lady on the night she chose me returning once more to my mind, "Have no fear, for you are my huntress", I hit the hallway at a rabbit-fast run, my gun in one hand and knife in the other.<br><br>They perhaps mean to move the bodies, to take up the two dead shooters' position of advantage, but the three men that remain in the hallway are not prepared to be assaulted so recklessly-- nor with the speed my lady has given me.<br><br>Flame gouts from the barrel into the chest of the first man, then the second's weapon goes off and perforates my coat, stinging my shoulder despite my speed-- a shotgun, even shorter than the one I was firing, with a spread only useful at very close ranges like this.&nbsp; A terrible mistake for me, so I kill him next with a single shot to the face.&nbsp; The third falls back with his hands up before him, his rifle having been set aside so he could move the bodies.<br><br>"Oh Christ, I'm unarmed, please no--"<br><br>The muzzle of my gun is searing hot when I press it to his cheek.&nbsp; His breathing is rapid with the gasping cries of one in agony, though I haven't really hurt him badly yet.<br><br>"Flinchum."<br><br>He chokes out some noises and then emphatically gestures toward the heavy door, as I'd first suspected.&nbsp; <br><br>"Go tell him you got me," I hiss, sheathing my knife and fishing his pistol from his hip holster.&nbsp; He seemed to have forgotten it.&nbsp; <br><br>"Wha-&nbsp; wha--"&nbsp; <br><br>"Do it," I hiss, hauling him up as we both rise.&nbsp; The hurt in my shoulder is still muted behind the sulfur-hot haze of battle.<br><br>He blinks at me, and I can see whisps of coppery red in his short beard and thick eyebrows.&nbsp; He knows it'll be his death, and he's reluctant to rush headlong.<br><br>I lick my canine as I stare him down, scratching the tip of my tongue on its rough point.&nbsp; "I <i>will</i> kill you if you don't."<br><br>This is a half-lie.&nbsp; The silver eye can see his sin through even the black patch with which I hide it.&nbsp; He was one of those at Spiritus Sancti.&nbsp; I will kill him if he doesn't or if he does.&nbsp; It makes no difference.<br><br>Keeping his gun on him, I crouch with my lady's gun propped on my knee, and I begin carefully reloading it so I can keep my prisoner covered.&nbsp; I load chamber two, then three, and he calls out.<br><br>"Flinchum!"&nbsp; His voice cracks mid-word.&nbsp; "Flinchum, I got her!"&nbsp; Silence answers.&nbsp; I load chamber four, chamber five.&nbsp; I draw back the hammer of his pistol with my thumb.&nbsp; I load chamber six.&nbsp; "She's-- she's still alive--" I set my jaw and grin at how much I'm going to hurt him.&nbsp; "I mean-- she's wounded, and down.&nbsp; But she's right pretty-- some crazy, one-eyed girl--"&nbsp; My anger abates a degree, but he's still not getting away.<br><br>There's a noise at the end of the hall, as of something heavy pressing against that broad door.&nbsp; "What did you say?"<br><br>The voice is deep and vicious.&nbsp; Unperturbed.&nbsp; My captive is pale, sweating cold along the whole of his skin.&nbsp; "I said, it's a girl, with one eye."&nbsp; <br><br>"Has she got a glass eye?"<br><br>Flinchum's man rolls his eyes in resignation and works his mouth silently.&nbsp; &nbsp;I holster my lady's gun and reach with my free hand to lift away the patch.&nbsp; He sees it.<br><br>"NO!"&nbsp; his voice is an octave higher.&nbsp; "No, it's-- it's metal, silver I think--" and tears flow down his face.&nbsp; He knows what he's done and he feels it fresh from what they must have felt and must still suffer.&nbsp; He starts sobbing.&nbsp; "Oh, my God, oh my God..."<br><br>I hear the ratcheting of gears-- I could never have opened such a heavy lock on my own.&nbsp; I hear the door swing open on iron hinges, I hear the cocking of a hammer.<br><br>I can feel Flinchum's presence.&nbsp; One of the old ones, the spawn of a Titan in a human form, a blob of flesh imbued with power beyond man.&nbsp; "Come around," he says, and his voice makes my spine run like mercury.<br><br>But he's sensed me, hasn't he?&nbsp; It's not that he believes I'm wounded, it's that he wants what I possess.&nbsp; This war is older than anything else I know.<br><br>He fires a weapon that sounds like a mortar, and the wall beside my head explodes in a rupture of splinters and plaster.&nbsp; If I hadn't guessed right, I'd be dead.&nbsp; My prisoner flails and collapses with half his upper torso ripped away by the blast. <br><br>I don't wait to see what he's firing or if he's reloading.&nbsp; I know he has to die, and I don't foresee having a better opportunity.&nbsp; I skin the mystical weapon at my right and drop the dead man's iron.&nbsp; Rounding the corner, I start fanning the gun and Flinchum tries to take cover.&nbsp; He is bigger than I expected, but he moves fast and has partial cover from the door frame.&nbsp; I hit him anyway, one bullet tearing a hole behind his ear, another penetrating his shoulder where he turned his profile toward me.&nbsp; A third should have caught his heart, but he doesn't stop moving.&nbsp; He wears no armor-- over his massive frame, nothing clads him but a pair of trousers and suspenders.&nbsp; The blood that flows was profuse and black.<br><br>My feet are a flurry of long strides as I cross the hallway and dive into the room headlong, landing on a lush maroon and white rug before he can shut the door to keep me out.&nbsp; He curses and I see the massive shotgun in his hand, and him stuffing a slug into the chamber that looks as big around as a spool of thread.&nbsp; I have him, I know it, so I fire the next three bullets directly into his chest.<br><br>He roars, agony and rage twisting his face like a warthog's, and I can see that black blood dripping from the doorframe where I've surely blown quarter-sized holes through his whole body.&nbsp; He lurches toward me, but doesn't fall-- instead, he swings his fist up at me, backhanding me across the small chamber and into something that crashes and breaks with the impact of my body.&nbsp; I see diamonds everywhere, glistening and tinkling across the carpet, and I realize there must have been a mirror behind me.&nbsp; <br><br>His visage blurs, becomes double in my gaze, and then I shake off the cobwebs.&nbsp; I've survived worse, I suppose, thanks to the lady's blessing-- but not much worse.&nbsp; The giant bastard is bearing down on me with a chisel-tipped knife of the kind I have seen some men use to clear brush.&nbsp; He spits a mouthful of blood and tosses the knife from one hand to the other.&nbsp; "I will take that eye and fuck your skull."&nbsp; There's a bed behind him, its brass rails tarnished and scratched, and on it is a young woman, younger than me.&nbsp; Her features are Chinese, and through the haze of sheer terror I can tell that there's something tiny and alive in her heart: hope.<br><br>I eject the cylinder of my lady's gun, slide in one round-- there's not time for anything else as he bears down on me.&nbsp; I spring to my feet faster than he would have expected, dart to the middle of the room and then dive back between his arm and leg.&nbsp; I am faster than normal men, but so is he, and he manages to swipe his knife down my back.&nbsp; The sealskin coat catches the blade, turns it from my split skin as I roll to my shoulder, slamming the pistol shut out of habit and taking aim up into his face.<br><br>His eyes are solid black as he looks down on me, his broad-muscled chest heaving and rippling with involuntary twitching.&nbsp; He thrusts with the knife for a renewed attack, but I fire again, so close that the flash fills his face and the bullet burrows up through his chin and out through the dome of his skull with a cloud of matter.&nbsp; His hair and beard are afire from the muzzle flare, and he topples forward like a fallen colossus.&nbsp; I manage to turn aside and miss most of his bulk, but it hurts when he lands atop me.&nbsp; <br><br>Wriggling free, I call to the girl on the bed.&nbsp; "Where are the others?"&nbsp; She doesn't reply.&nbsp; She's holding herself, tears flow down her face.&nbsp; "The other girls.&nbsp; The other girls like you." She can't take her eyes away from the fallen monster on the floor.&nbsp; I point at her, touch her hair, point to her face.&nbsp; "Other girls."&nbsp; <br><br>Tears spring from her eyes and her mouth flutters like a pinioned butterfly.&nbsp; I know that sound.&nbsp; It's like the Sheriff made when he tried to die, it's like I made when I could finally talk after the Jayhawkers killed my family, after I thought I would die by mob justice.&nbsp; The sound that says "it is finished".<br><br>Her tears press to my face, soak my neck.&nbsp; "There are others, right," I ask into her hair.&nbsp; I hold her a moment, but we have to hurry.<br><br><br>BAPTISTE'S HOME<br><br>On the patio, the evening cool is a relief, and the broad, green fronds of many exotic plants glisten in the breaching moonlight.&nbsp; I'm drinking something called cognac from a wide glass, and it's settling my nerves somewhat.&nbsp; I can hear crowds up the street, the music of guitars and fiddle mixed with laughter and conversation muted by distance-- even at this hour.&nbsp; Baptiste is in a wooden, chair from his drawing room, and he is cleaning and examining my wounds with those lovely eyes as if I wasn't bloodied and beaten.&nbsp; As if I was beautiful.&nbsp; I am naked to the waist, a fact that doesn't seem to bother the man in the least, and in a show of modesty that I really don't care for, I keep my arms folded demurely over my breasts except to sip from the glass.<br><br>The sun will be up soon.&nbsp; Local authorities are working to investigate the bordello even as we sit here smoking, and Baptiste's contacts are helping the four girls I managed to recover.&nbsp; I don't know if the other three are dead or alive, or if they were shipped away or sold here in New Orleans.&nbsp; I may never know, but I will try to learn.&nbsp; He has assured me that I am safe here, and that his people-- remarkably convincing people, he insists-- are currently confusing the dispatched investigators as to the details of the shootings so that the description of "One-Eyed Kate from the dime novels" will be only one of the many remarkable tales told.&nbsp; <br><br>The alcohol stings fiercely where the buckshot grazed my shoulder, but the wound isn't dire.&nbsp; Nor is the laceration of Flinchum's knife, thanks to the blessings of the goddess and well-placed leather, though it stings even more fiercely when he washes it with highly distilled moonshine.&nbsp; "Are you certain you feel comfortable out here, Miss Sinc--"<br><br>"If you don't start calling me Katie," I say softly, "I am going to write it on your hand so you'll remember."&nbsp; I smirk over my shoulder at him, and he grins.&nbsp; <br><br>His warm hands test the wound on my back once more before he nods, satisfied.&nbsp; "Katie."&nbsp; I can hear him smiling, and I study the garden for a moment.<br><br>"I'd like a bath," I say softly.&nbsp; "If that's all the same."&nbsp; <br><br>Baptiste nods, having risen and turned from me in a show of chivalry.&nbsp; "Of course, Katie, I will ask--"<br><br>I cut him off with my mouth over his in a firm, hungry kiss.&nbsp; I know that I'm half-naked and still spattered with dried blood, but I do it anyway.&nbsp; Baptiste seems to tense, then relaxes and returns the gesture with his mouth, his hands and arms encircling me, and I break the kiss long enough to draw rapid breath and speak once more-- "I'd like some company, too, if that's all the same."<br><br>*<br><br>When dawn comes, it finds my pale body half-asleep along his bare, brown skin, trailing fingers along every inch of him, so flawless and pure.&nbsp; It's a transient pleasure that we share, though one I will find myself recalling fondly for some time.&nbsp; He tells me of the great festival that the city will be hosting next spring, the day before Ash Wednesday as a last-minute celebration before the great sacrifices of Lent.&nbsp; I promise to return then, and he smiles.&nbsp; He doesn't say he'll still be here, only that it will be a sight to behold.&nbsp; I am afraid to ask if I will see him again, but at least for that moment, my silver eye gazing out at the sun of my first New Orleans dawn, he knows every inch of me and I am not ashamed.&nbsp; I feel less hollow, more like I can be with a human without seeing that human die.&nbsp; <br><br>I feel like I'll heal.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>05-06-2009, 20:28:41</strong>
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				<span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font"><br>Part 1: Hell is what you make it!<br><br><br>New Orleans, Spring, just before Mardi Gras<br><br>A carriage pulled up along the road way, stopping at the docks. Climbing down the tall slim man, with skin as dark as the rich Louisiana mud, scanned the area, filled with people of all shapes and sizes, as 6 different ships unloaded. Men and a few women of varied skin tones toiled at the backbreaking job of unloading or stood in finery,&nbsp; watching and waiting. In a few cases even cursing the ones at labor, floats from France were being lifted from the holds, all manner of trunks and cargo.<br><br>The man stretched up to look over the crowds and spotted the lady he had been sent for. She stood in an eddy of calm as 3 men carried a trunk to stack by her feet. Motioning to the other that had stood at the rear of the carriage, another dark skin man, this one shorter but broader, they hurried toward the woman.<br><br>Alex took deep breaths enjoying the fragrance, the hints of scents, the ocean mixed with the shore and then mixed again with what could only be called the flavor of New Orleans. Spicy and sweet all mixed together. It had been almost 3 years since she had left this very dock, a weeks past her eighteenth birthday. She had not admitted it at the time but she had been a bit scared. She had realized standing on that dock, 3 years ago, that she was alone, with no close family and she was leaving behind the only friends she really had. Going off to something unknown but hinted at. The fire inside had pushed her, carried her and now she had returned and she liked to think she was stronger, calmer and clear eyed, focused and fired with a conviction. <br><br>Yet she knew the fire still was there, justice for the wronged, vengeance meted out. She knew finally what she was…a rule breaker, a rogue and gambler that set her at odds with the god’s that had chosen her to serve them.<br><br>Alex head jerked up at the loud Meow that came from her companion, the cat named Pharaoh sat regally on one truck and nodded to her left. Glancing that way she saw the two men part through the throng and approached her. Her lips curled in a soft smile as she recognized both as servants to the house of Baptiste DuMonde. The smile in the eyes of the taller one, even though he kept his face serious was priceless, “Milady Kitterland, I must apologize for being tardy we were expecting your ship later the day”<br><br>“Do I want to know how you even knew I was arriving back in the colonies?” her right eyebrow arched up in that sexy questioning way. The smaller man eyes widen a bit as he responded. “Lady, Mr. DuMonde sent word you would be arriving, though he is not home at this time he said he would be honored again if would you stay at his estate. He also said to let you know he should return in time for Mardi Gras”<br><br>Both men began to carry her things as if it was a foregone conclusion she would stay at the mansion and she supposed it had been. Her lips curled in a soft smile as she adjusted the shaded glasses on her delicate nose and followed them to the carriage. The grey cat his tail held high leading all of them.<br><br>As she settled into the soft leather seat of the carriage and listened to the men load her things her mind wandered back. Almost 5 years before.<br><br><span style="font-family: arial;" class="bbc_font"><em><strong>The river docks on the east side of New Orleans 5 years earlier.</strong><br><br>The past week had been the deepest form of hell for her. It had seemed simple, traveling upriver toward Vicksburg her father playing cards and gathering intelligence on things she had decided that were dark and evil. <br><br>Her father had for some years had been working with a group based in New Orleans, which seemed to be headed by his close friend Baptiste DuMonde. In the Dumonde mansion, they spoke of magic and dead and life and an evil newly awoken that had driven its fear deep into the hearts of many. Planning and exchanging information. Finally deciding that someone had to travel to Vicksburg to check the story’s coming from there. That being her father and of course herself as well.<br><br>Her mind was quick as she absorbed the words spoken seeing the plans and understanding the danger and her father’s part. She also had begun to understand why ‘Uncle’ Baptiste could not do the things her father did, his cream tea colored skin limited him within society and especially within the south. Her father though was white and a titled noble of Great Britain; this gave him access to many places the group needed to go or to have eyes in. It was silly really, her uncle, which of course wasn’t really her uncle but he had insisted she call him that, was far more educated then most men she had met in the years she had traveled with her father. He had delighted in helping polish her French when they had stayed at the mansion during the years. He had sat in deep talks with her about all sorts of things, philosophy, science, trust, and honor. He had laughed as she took his gold in poker, at the age of 14, nearly as skilled as her father in the game. He had been like an uncle and even an older brother one she had seen off and on as her father traveled the south and even into the North.<br><br>Uncle Baptiste had insisted they wait till her 16th birthday, he had planned a grand ball to welcome her out and it had been that. Dressed in fine French silk and swirled across the dance floor by her father and then her uncle and even by Jefferson Davis. It had been a high point for her.&nbsp; A memory of finer things and innocent times.<br><br>How she huddled beside the berth in the captain’s cabin, naked and feeling alone. Her father murdered before her eyes, she had then been carried to a cabin only to be raped by the horrid men, which had killed her father. Raped for almost a day by the murderers before she had been turned over to the captain. She had realized the he and most of the crew as well as the 3 men had been part of the ambush. <br>The captain was heavy and smelly as he raped her then placed a leather band around her neck, hammering the rivets tight himself. A manacle kept her chained to the bunk and she had ‘entertained’ various crew members besides the captain for a week. He had told her much during the time, how her blood uncle, Baron of Westchester had offered a great deal for her. Other names one which the captain seemed very afraid of, Flinchum.<br><br>Her mind wandered to that time she and her father had visited the family lands in England. They had gone to pay respects to her grandfather’s grave and to be seen again. There she had seen her uncle’s eyes; how they had devoured her and though she was just 8 she knew he was bad.<br><br>Setting there in the dim light, night outside flickering she heard the thud that sounded loud…a second then a half strangled scream and a horrible sounding crack. The door to the cabin seemed to be explode inwards as she cringed. Then a voice she knew. Soft and tender, Uncle Basptite spoke, “I am so very sorry, we never thought it was trap meant for you and your father.” He somehow yanked and the chain parted from the bunk, wrapping the young woman in a blanket he carried her from the riverboat, as flames licked and danced along the deck. Several others closed ranks around him as they hurried into the depths of New Orleans</em></span>[/i]<br><br><br>&nbsp;New Orleans the docks:<br>The carriage began to move, the wheels clink clanking along the cobble stones as it began to weave into the bustling city.</span><br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>05-06-2009, 22:37:58</strong>
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				New Orleans, Spring 1872.<br><br>The shipping district of the city was a broad sprawl of warehouses and docks.&nbsp; My train arrived in this district with a long, slow exhale of steam, and it was into afternoon sun that I stepped with my pack in hand, the bundle containing all my belongings save the longarms which I had to stow with my mount in order to ride with civilized company.<br><br>I continued to draw stares on the platform as I had in the car.&nbsp; Repressed people with unquenchable senses of self-righteousness.&nbsp; Mostly city folk, where a woman with pants-- much less a gun (though mine, I assure you, was not on display)-- was considered an explicit thing to look upon.&nbsp; One little girl keeps springing to mind, though-- a little freckled thing, perhaps ten years of age, who kept peeking over the back of her mother's bench and pointing her fingers like pistols at me, and who kept asking an an embarrassingly loud voice (embarrassing for her mother, anyway) if I was the ranger girl from the funny books.<br><br>As if conjured by the memory, the girl and her bustle-clad, broad-hatted mother stepped onto the platform from a car down-- they'd left after the mother couldn't stand the girl's inappropriate behavior any longer.&nbsp; I had my saddlebags slung over my shoulder and was securing my gun belt with both hands.&nbsp; The freckled girl's face lit like a candle at the sight of it, and she started hopping from one foot to the next.&nbsp; "Mama, mama, it IS her--"<br><br>But the woman, whose clothes had sufficient material to fashion into the drapes and frills for a whole sugar plantation, was preoccupied and hissing at a porter about a set of luggage.&nbsp; The girl continued to stare with the pure adoration only a child seems to have, so I reached up past the black felt patch over my eye, and I pinched the flat brim of my Reno-style hat, tugging it down in a little salute to her.<br><br>Her little face beamed, and then her mother tugged at her hand and they disappeared on the bustling platform.&nbsp; <br><br>I tucked a little cigarillo between my teeth and scratched alight a Lucifer match from my shirt-pocket.&nbsp; Seeing a woman smoking in most of the urbane cities I've seen would be a shock worth reporting, but there's something about New Orleans so that it doesn't elicit comment.&nbsp; So like this, I set off.&nbsp; <br><br>My freshly polished ostrich boots carried me down the planks of the platform.&nbsp; Cathing a glimpse of myself in the station window's afternoon reflection, I stop to check everything... this is not something that I am in the habit of doing, because I typically don't give a fuck who sees me.&nbsp; And while I actually <i>do</i> care today, I still want to dress like... well, me.&nbsp; Not some dolled up trollop.<br><br>I wore denim pants that I'd owned just long enough to break them in well, so they fit like a glove.&nbsp; I had procured a new, red leather vest, double-layered and cinched up tight to my body with laces at the sides and back like a corset.&nbsp; The shirt beneath it was black, comfortable cotton, with buffalo-horn buttons-- three of them open at the top.&nbsp; I wore gloves too, of course... black kid-leather, with reinforced palm and finger pads, but more out of habit than necessity.&nbsp; My long jacket, black seal, was over my shoulder and padding the saddlebags.&nbsp; <br><br>The weather was fine, the river's fecund scent reassuring and alive.&nbsp; So I went to fetch my horse and long-arm weapons, to chat again with the porters who, I'd come to understand, tended to be reasonably nice fellows when you didn't talk down to them.&nbsp; Then, it'll be an hour or two's ride to the Quarter, where I hoped Baptiste would be waiting.<br><br>*<br><br>I arrived at the fine, glossy doors of Baptiste's home shortly before midnight.&nbsp; I was dusty, bruised, cursing and disappointed.<br><br>You see, I tend to get involved in others' affairs... it's a habitual self-destruction that I can't seem to deny.&nbsp; So when somebody's steam-powered factory unit had a sudden backfire, and it set a horse-drawn coach tearing down Canal street with a terrified couple on the running board, I had to get involved and ride down the carriage and bring it to a stop.&nbsp; <br><br>When I heard a scuffle on Decatur, I rode my horse to investigate and found a whelp of a pickpocket being flailed for failing to bring in enough coin.&nbsp; It took me a while to rehabilitate the offender and to deliver the boy to an orphanage.&nbsp; <br><br>Then, when I tried a shortcut through Jackson Square, I was lucky enough to meet a handful of sailors riotous with drink and too broke to afford even one whore between them.&nbsp; I felt a civic duty to help them get to someplace quiet to sleep it off, even if that someplace quiet happened to be where-the-hell-ever I managed to stow their unconscious, beaten bodies after they tried to jump me.<br><br>It'd been nearly a year since I'd last walked my horse down Conti Street, and by the time I got there it felt like ten.<br><br>I raised my fist and knocked loudly at the door.&nbsp; I'd decided by then that come hell or high water, I was going to drag him to bed, and that if his assistants didn't answer quick enough I was going to bust in and take him sleeping.&nbsp; Leaning back into the doorframe, I kept my horse's reigns loose in my grip and let my eyes close.&nbsp; How good it would be to hear that voice again...
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>06-06-2009, 02:15:30</strong>
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				Part 2: Hell is what you make it!!<br><br><span style="font-family: arial;" class="bbc_font">Her fingers idly scratched under the chin of the Mau as it curled in her lap purring loud enough to wake the dead, and in New Orleans that was a possibility. Alex’s blue eyes watched the people scurry along the streets as the carriage moved along. Closing her eyes behind the shaded glasses she stilled as the memories played across her mind’s eye.</span><br><br><br><span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font"><em>The DuMonde mansion 5 years earlier:<br><br>The young woman had taken 3 days before she was really aware of anything. Three days in which her ‘Uncle’ had attended her. Smoothing her wounds where she had been beaten, cleaning her delicately, his long fingered hands were gentle and tender as he spoke words of assurance. <br><br>It was midday when she sat up and screamed and began trembling, fighting at the bed linens till she was wrapped in a strong embrace, her head resting against a strong powerful chest. Her sobbing tears wet the white silk of his shirt, as she shook. Finally she stilled and took in a breath…then a second.<br><br>There was a darkness in her, hate…an angry unfocused fire, but more than that a fear. A fear that clenched at her belly and make her shiver, the words they had called her on the boat. Was she really that way? Would all she know is violence and cruelty from the touch of a man? Yet the arms around her gave lie to that, there could be tenderness in an embrace.<br><br>She did not know how long she was held before she straightened and pushed him back, a long shuddering breath then she squared her shoulders and looked up into the grey eyes.<br>“Papa’s…um father’s body was thrown overboard, south of Vicksburg if I remember. I know it will be near impossible but he should have a proper burial. I than…”&nbsp; Alex’s words were stopped by a finger pressed over her lips as the sad grey eyes full of anger and even shame looked down. “Mon’chaton, I have already arranged to recover Richard’s body. He would have done no less for me…You need to rest now and let me handle things. You are still hurting even if you don’t realize it; now sleep my kitten, my new daughter.” Alex’s eyes closed as she slid back into the bed.<br><br>The hint of dawn showed over through the leaves of the large oak as Alex jerked awake and sat up in the darkness of her room, the bed linens falling to pool in her lap, the soft cotton chemise clung to her, her nipples had hardened and she felt the cloth tease them as she breathed. The nightmare should have been worst but someone…thing…some force had kept it fuzzy and at arm’s length. Yet even then she had felt the fear and the shame.<br>Heard again the words they had called her…slave…slut…whore. Her fingers rose to her neck where the captain had placed the collared claiming she would know nothing more.<br>Yet now there was no collar, her neck slim and soft as her fingers traced where it had been.<br><br>Climbing from the bed she relieved herself and then stood in front of the full length mirror that hung from one wall. As she gazed into the reflection there, some part of her awoke again… a fury dark and dangerous…a shame at what she had done during that week. How she had let them use her and take from her and worst how it seemed her body had enjoyed it. She saw again the evil in them as if seeing with new eyes, and she also saw how hurt her friend and uncle, Baptiste had been. His grey eyes blaming himself as he had comforted her. And in her mind a distant whisper like a cat’s voice in the wind told her she wasn’t alone…”heal your body…train it and your mind…free your hurt as you learn to enjoy the touches on your body, on your heart and on your soul…” Her fists clenched as she made her choice, she would hunt down the 3 that had killed her father and take from them something as precious as they had taken from her. Yet it was more than that as she saw deeper into her own reflection. She had chosen a path, vengeance, honor and she knew at that moment she would try and stand as a light against the evil darkness. From somewhere else a deep approval washed through her.</em></span><br><br><span style="font-family: arial;" class="bbc_font">A carriage as it approached Canal Street:<br>Alex sat a bit straighter as what sounded like some sort of cannon fire or thunder echoed and then a minute later a carriage rumbled past leaning on two wheels, as frantically the driver tried to regain control. The couple inside hanging on for dear life as they yelled. Some sense told her this wasn’t just an accident there was some connection but she was not able to see it. <br>As she dropped again to her memories, the cat sat up and its eyes followed a rider that seemed to be chasing the carriage, a rider with a red vest and polished boots.</span><br><br><br><span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font"><em>Baptiste’s eyes glowed when she walked down the steps for breakfast. The white day dress with its bustle whispered as she moved. Her footfalls barely sounded on the polished wood stairs, but what made him smile were her eyes, a deep blue filled with fire and anger…alive again. Breakfast was cordial, as they ate, the absent of her father a heavy weight with them, but as they made small talk it began to lessen. It was as they sat with the last forkfuls that her uncle spoke of other things, “Mon’Chaton, your father’s body has been found. I have arranged for a ceremony and burial here unless you wish him returned to England.” For a heartbeat then a second the fork quivered as she started to raise the last of her eggs. “No, No, father had little to do with the Moorlands there and my uncle was behind this, he wanted me… I, I think he desired me since the time father and I visited the family estate but that was nearly 8 years ago. Why would he wait so long?”<br>She didn’t see the surprised look in Baptiste’ eyes nor the flash of rage that went with it as she stared at the plate in front of her.<br>“Thank you uncle, for you are more an uncle then any of the Moorlands. Thank you seems so little to say for this but it’s all I have” <br>As she looked up and into the grey eyes as she smiled, in them she saw the pain and shame ease and begin to be replaced with their old fire. “No thanks are needed for until you are of age or properly taught, I will be your as a father as well as your uncle. Between family thanks is seldom needed to be spoken”<br>The funeral opened with a downpour and thunder rumbling as if the heavens mourned. Six men; three she didn’t even know carried the coffin to its resting place. Alex stood straight in the black mourning dress, her face hid by a veil. Yet her eyes took in everything, these people were honoring her father and his own family had him killed. She knew one day…one day she would return to Westchester and then her blood uncle would pay. <br>As she turned at the end she saw the females, several trying to gain her uncle’s attention, which led her to really look at him for perhaps the first time as a woman not as a girl. He was much taller than she was, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, a strength showed in his posture and she gulped as her belly fluttered.<br><br>As they rode in the carriage away from the funeral they discussed her future. The fire she felt in her…anger…fear. She would have 3 days to mourn then on the morning of the 4th after breakfast her training would begin. Pistols, rifles, hand to hand, steel eyed and toning her body.</em></span><br><br><br><span style="font-family: arial;" class="bbc_font">The carriage bumped, and then stopped as a muttered curse came from Roger the driver. A group of sailors were rowdy and already half drunk and were fighting in the middle of the road, as a knot of constables with blowing whistles and flailing billy-clubs tried to force them to the side.</span><br><br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>07-06-2009, 04:40:34</strong>
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				Part 3: Hell is what you make it!!<br><br><span style="font-family: arial;" class="bbc_font">The carriage arrived at the house on Conti Street, as the late afternoon sun spun rays of gold through the budding oak leaves and the palm fronds rustled in the soft breeze. As Roger helped her from the carriage a Tall, dark skinned, blind man stepped from the house and onto the porch, his face distance as if seeing something no one else could. The milky white eyes lowered to look directly at Alex and a big smile full of perfect white teeth graced the face as he opened his arms wide.<br><br>Alex’s smile was dazzling as she almost ran to leap into the hug. “John Henry you old rascal has not the devil came for you yet” The hug they each gave was fierce as he chuckled. “Not hardly yet little cat, he has no use for a wrinkled old soul like this’ un I have. Yarn’s now tis another matter entirely and as such ya’ll should not be going round teasing the local fellows.”<br>Settling her back onto her feet the 7’ tall man took her hand, and bent to kiss her knuckles, “milady you will always be welcomed at House DuMonde. It does this old soul good to see how well you are, how much you have grown, the iron now in you as well as the fire… and the mischief. You still break the rules do you not?”<br>“Only when they need breaking, John Henry, only when they need breaking,” the smile in her voice was music to the man. He had seen her hurt and damaged struggling to find her way, and here she stood, beautiful, whole, the ichors in her blood singing.<br><br>John Henry led the way as Roger and the other servants began to unload her things, “you will have the room next to Baptiste’s, Mon’Chaton.” As he chuckled, “as you may remember there are adjoining doors.” The earthy timbre of his voice and the inflections in the words made her blush even as she smiled, “yes I remember.”<br><br>She followed John Henry up the stairs, the swirl and whisper of her silk dress bringing a smile to the man’s lips as he too remembered. <br>Alex walked into the bedroom she had used those years before and turned to John Henry taking his hands in her gloved ones. Lifting up on her tip toes she kissed him on his lips, gently…delicately, then in a voice serious and filled with respect and care, “John Henry, I never truly thanked you…what you and Baptiste and Granger did for me allowed me to find the harmony in myself. Helped me too free myself of the fear and shame”<br><br>She could have sworn if the dark skinned man could blush he was doing so, then his lips curled in a smile, “Alexandra, it was MY honor as well as my….pleasure… to have helped you.”<br><br>It was Alex who blushed at the emphasis on the word pleasure as the dark skinned, milky eyed man turned with a grin and left “Dinner will be at its normal time and sometime later there should be another guest, you will like her I believe”<br><br>Turning to open the trunks that were being carried in, Alex’s memories went back those 5 years.</span><br><br><em><span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font">DuMonde estate 5 years earlier:<br><br>The days had slid by one after the other as she worked, ran, jumped, crawled and danced. Her demon was named John Henry, towering over her, his milky white eyes seemed to always see exactly what she was doing. He was called brother by Baptiste and ran the house and estate as well as trained those he felt worthy. John Henry was a hard taskmaster, but also caring, taking time to talk about things and teaching her to listen…really listen for there was music all around. It was that music she learned to move with, the form they called Capoeria, kicks, sweeps, jabs and cartwheels were all part of the music he taught her. Yet the music was also dark, murmurs of her fear with the beat of life made her at times stop trembling as she breathed. As she trained her body became toned and sleek and lithe and she was vaguely aware of the glances of the men her new look drew.<br><br>But that was only part of each day; the rest was spent with Granger, the other demon of her daylight. Baptiste called him ‘brother’ as well and Granger taught her how to shoot, really shoot. To fan a colt revolver and put 4 out of the 6 shots dead center, to draw and shoot as part of her being. She learned to clean the guns, how each could be used. Alex toughened her wrists and arms shooting with either hand. She learned to move in pants as well as skirts. She learned to be calm as she shot, yet deep inside the fear and shame still hummed and curled and spoke whispers.<br><br>Baptiste would take her shopping at first for dresses to be tailored for her use, places cut to hide all manner of things. But she often trembled when eyes of other men looked at her.<br>After the second time, the dresses would arrive in boxes in her room.<br><br>Each day was marked by meals. Breakfast and talk of the coming day. Lunch and discussion of her progress with John Henry. Dinner and questions about guns as well as talk on the world around and the politics involved.<br><br>It was after she went to bed that the real hell started, the nightmares, which made her toss and turn. Dreams that made her sit up in bed ready to scream and run, as her hand traced along her neck. Often she would slip quietly out into the house, the silk chemise clinging to her as her hardened nipples pointed the cloth. She would walk and find a corner to set down and hug her legs to her. She thought a few times someone saw her but if they did nothing was said.<br><br>The words whispered to her with the fear and shame and arousal…slut…whore…slave…cunt.<br>How she felt, helpless and alone, how her body responded to the harsh handling. How even now she felt aroused by it and ashamed.&nbsp; These tormented her but even more was that she was afraid, afraid the whispered words were correct. Would she ever find some counter to bring harmony to let her see. See without the dark shame and fear that even at times made the path she had chosen seem silly and impossible. A light against the darkness? She could not even stop the fear and shame and arousal in herself.<br><br>She hadn’t realized that the sleepless nights were taking a toll on her. Dark circles under her eyes and weariness in her posture were clear signs to others. It had been almost 6 weeks she had been training when she came down to breakfast. This morning was different, breakfast was on the balcony, the bright summer sun shone warmly, already hinting at the coming heat of the day. Baptiste sat at a small table reading the paper as she sat down. A plate of food ready. “Today, Mon’chaton you will rest and relax and tonight you will retire early and sleep and the dreams WILL NOT bother you. You need the rest and tomorrow we will talk of what bothers your soul.” With that he stood and his hand touched hers gently, grey eyes looking down into her blue. In those lovely grey eyes there was deep fire, anger but not her. At what had happened to her.<br><br>That day was relaxing, the fear barely raising its head as she sat in the warm sun sipping cold lemonade, and that night she slept deep and dreamless waking more refreshed then she had in weeks. Yet when she looked in the mirror, as her fingers rose to trace along her neck, she knew it was temporary at best.<br><br>As she sat down to breakfast she was nervous and afraid. Her uncle had already begun eating as he talked with the beautiful woman that had joined the breakfast. Her skin was the color of honey, flawless. As she stood to greet Alex, her exotic eyes seemed to look deep into her. Eyes almond shaped with the hint of a slant and a brown so deep they were nearly black. Her hair fell in a river of black to the middle of her back and the gown that clung to her showed off her body. She was taller than Alex and older yet she oozed sexuality and grace like the sun gave off warmth. Baptiste stood as well and introduced her as Annette another of the New Orleans order of Loa and she had come to talk.<br>Breakfast was small talk that left Alex nervous with the fear trying to build within, picking at her food.<br><br>&nbsp;Finally when she had pushed the food around long enough, Baptiste stood and offered his hand. Taking it all, three walked to what he called his study. The walls were lined with books and framed art.&nbsp; The scent of old cigars and whiskey hovered just at the edges of the air. Everything was cut of finery. A trio of lush leather chairs stood around a table to the side near the big picture windows. The big desk seemed to command the center yet bring ease. It was made of rich dark mahogany, polished to a gleaming shine. Baptiste motioned her to one of the soft leather chairs as he took one and Annette sat in the third.<br><br>“Alex, we have watched you these past weeks and seen how much you have improved but also we have seen the darkness in your soul and your struggle with it. I have asked Miss Annette to join us as we talk. Tell us about what happened that week, I have not pressed you on this but its time and you need to talk of it.”&nbsp; <br><br>She trembled, hugging herself as those days shown in her mind as bright as when they happened. Yet in here it felt safe. The words at first were halting, soft whispers. She spoke of how they are shot her father down, three against one and the captain’s hand holding back a crewmember. How the three had grabbed her as her father’s blood pooled on the wood floor, the captain nodding as they dragged her off tearing her cloths as they went. The words almost failed her as she spoke of that first rape… that first night. The three men had taken everything from her, used her sex, used her ass, and used her mouth. They had kept her wrists bound as they did so laughing and calling her names. Names, Baptiste gently forced her to speak aloud. She spoke of how sometime during that night, she wasn’t sure when the captain had arrived with a hammer and a piece of strange leather. How they had forced her head to lay beside a stone and hammered shut the rivets on the leather, how snug it felt around her neck. Words were spoken and the ‘collar’ tightened almost cutting off her breath then relaxed so she could feel it close fitting around her neck feeling as if it belonged there. That it was meant for her and what she was.<br><br>As she spoke of this, Baptiste’s grey eyes narrowed and met the brown ones of Annette and he nodded for Alex to continue.<br><br>She whispered of the fear and shame that filled her, and of the arousal…how her body responded, how the helplessness seemed to fill her body with desire even as her mind struggled.<br><br>She spoke of the three men leaving the afternoon of the second day. Going ashore at some stop as she curled on the floor of the captain’s cabin softly crying. How she tried to escape only to be brutally beaten then savagely raped by the huge bellied and fowl captain. She whispered of how her body responded as she was raped. She told of names, how it was her real uncle that had paid for her through others. She spoke of muffled words and phrases she had overheard. Through it all she spoke of a need, desires dark and shameful. Fears that made her belly clench and her body tremble. Tears filled her eyes as she spoke, dripping down her cheeks. More came out, each rape by a crewmember, each word and cut on her soul. <br><br>She spoke of the nights since. The need, like some outside force, that made her body aroused at such thoughts of the helplessness, the domination, the fear and how ashamed and afraid she felt. <br><br>It was mid afternoon when they finished talking, Alex crying, her face in her hands, as Annette knelt by her, a arm around her shoulders and soft words in her ear.<br>Baptiste sat back in the chair the fire rolling from him then he took a deep breath and with a smile and cautious words and a hug he sent her off to her room, telling her they would talk more at dinner. A hot meal waited in her room as well as a warm bath already drawn.<br><br>Alex almost didn’t go down to dinner, the talk had drained her and made her afraid. Afraid they would see her for what she was…slut…whore…slave, the words whisper. After soaking in the bath, with oils and lotions she finally dressed and went downstairs. At the table this time sat not only Baptiste, but also Granger, John Henry and Annette. All rose respectfully as she came to the table and Baptiste pulled her chair. There was a tension but also a conviction in the air around the table as she ate quietly. Little in the way of talking went on as if everything needed to be discussed had already been so. When they had finished desert the three men rose and walked off. Annette stood and took her hand and walked with her to the study, taking the chair behind the desk Annette motioned for Alex to set in the chair facing it. As they sat facing each other Annette’s brown eyes looked deep into Alex’s blue.</span></em><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>07-06-2009, 20:03:48</strong>
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				<span class="bbc_u"><strong>Sisterhood of Mischief</strong></span><br><br>(this is a work in progress with Galanoder.&nbsp; Expect many edits and updates)<br><br>The railhead bore the unlikely name of Rancho Verde--there were no ranches immediately nearby, and it certainly wasn't a green oasis in the endless dry and hardpan landscape.&nbsp; It was where the railway was coming through, though, and so it was where the local cattle drives ended.&nbsp; That made it a cattle town, sure enough, and that meant that it made money off of the cowboys...and their collective vices.<br><br>Front Street and Main were respectable enough, but saloons and brothels accounted for most of the buildings past Calhoun and Third Street...crowded into the Devil's Quarter by town ordinance and the everpresent eyes of the local lawmen.&nbsp; <em>Within</em> the Quarter, anything went, and so long as the various dens of sin contributed to the town's coffers, the Sheriff was disinclined to investigate anything that happened to cowboys and transients.&nbsp; So it was that a man willing to tip well and keep his head down could easily vanish into the demimonde for a time with nobody the wiser for it.&nbsp; (Of course, a man unwilling to tip and looking for a fight could also easily vanish, but would be less likely to resurface alive and well.)<br><br>Rancho Verde had a different problem, though.&nbsp; Rumors of a new outlaw gang proved all too true when a band of hooded men rode in to town and robbed both banks at the same time, having torched the Grand Hotel to cover their crime.&nbsp; The posse that followed them up into the hills returned only a few survivors who babbled about some great ape-like beast that bushwacked them.&nbsp; And when the gang struck again, putting outlying towns to the torch and ransacking homesteads?&nbsp; Word got around--and where word went, hunters soon followed.<br><br>The Lame Duck Saloon was not the sort of place that showed up in the town's promotional literature, as deep in the Quarter as it was.&nbsp; That night, though, it was uncommonly subdued...and the reason was easily visible from the front door.&nbsp; There, in the middle of the floor, there was a Celestial with flame red hair, drinking copiously and carrying on a conversation with a monkey that sat on the table across from her, eating nuts from a bowl.&nbsp; Beside the slender woman, slumped unconscious in their seats, were a number of cowhands who had learned the painful way that she wasn't for rent.&nbsp; The rest of the patrons gave her a wide berth, watching with great and morbid interest every time someone new entered through the swinging doors and approached that table...<br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>08-06-2009, 08:15:04</strong>
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				<span style="font-family: arial;" class="bbc_font">Part 4: Hell is what you make it!<br><br>DuMonde mansion New Orleans, Spring 1872.<br><br>Alex walked around the study, her finger tips trailing along the woodwork as she looked again at the volumes nestled in the bookcases. The big mahogany desk was where it had been as well as the comfortable scent and feeling in the room. It was in this very room 5 years ago that she had begun her transformation. A girl really just 16, fear knotting her, shame making her tremble and a hungering need nearly filling her. With the help of the men and women of this group she had survived and become a woman. And it all had begun in here!!! </span> <br><br><em><span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font">The study of the DuMonde mansion 5 years earlier:<br><br>Annette’s brown eyes bored into the blue ones of Alexandra as seconds moved past. The brown eyes looked deep into the younger female’s heart and soul finally making Alex lift her chin and square her shoulders. A slow arching of her right eyebrow and then a nod as if Annette had finally seen what she was after, “good little one, good you are not lost yet.” A snort as she gave a quick shake of her head, “men trust them to be big and strong yes but to know what needs to be done now, no! They should have sent for me weeks ago”<br><br>Annette stood and walked around the desk to set on its edge as she talked with Alex, drawing the younger woman’s eyes up, her attention riveted as she used her full name. “Alexandra, you have suffered a grave ordeal, even more so then you thought. You feel alone, fear, shame and a need. The men have no idea what to do too help but are very concerned.”<br><br>From someplace the woman pulled out the leather, the piece that had been riveted in place around Alex’s neck. The collar that had seemed so right, she had been told this and more. Her eyes were drawn to it as her hand reached to her neck. Hunger and fear and shame as well as courage warred within her eyes. Annette watched the younger woman as she struggled and finally squared her shoulders and looked back into her face. <br>“Good I had to be sure you were strong enough, this filth” she lifted the leather, “is enspelled and partly titan spawned. Meant for a weaker will and lesser soul it still has effected you. Any other girl would have been broken in 3 days at most, you are made of stronger blood, like I am and like the others that have been helping you.” <br><br>Dropping the leather onto the desk she pulled a slim knife that seemed to glow along the blade in a bluish pulse and stabbed the point into the center, the leather began to shrivel and smoke until it faded away, leaving the metal rivets and a burnt spot on the polished wood.<br><br>“Now we have to decide how to help you cope with what happened.” Annette stood and walked to the chairs motioning for Alex to set in the one beside her and waited till she had. Annette took the other woman’s hands in her own as she leaned forward to speak, “you see Alexandra the spell opened you to suggestions, commands. Lucky for us it was a weak spell and poorly crafted and the leather was badly used. That doesn’t help you cope though does it?” Alex’s head shook as she barely dared to breath. “Domination by males as well as a yoke and spell makes a powerful combination and you have been struggling with this without help or understanding for more than 6 weeks.” A sigh gives way her exasperation, “if they had contacted me sooner you could have avoided much of this tormenting. Men they are too useful to just kill them all, are they not?” the quirked lips, drew Alex into a soft smile as well.<br><br>“What has been done was to build a trinity within you, the domination of men fueled it, and the spell allowed it to seep in even as you fought it. The first was fear, fear for your life, fear that no one would ever know you were missing, fear that you were alone, you know those fears and how they squirm and whisper. I have seen your eyes girl. The second was need. They told you that you were meant to be a slut, that you were worth nothing more than to be used and fucked. That you wanted to be raped, fucked, used. That you needed to be a slave and to feel anything. The collar was that symbol and they used their domination to drive it home… I watched you fight that need; it nearly claims you as we speak. Finally there was shame. Society views a woman in a certain way. Men as well view us in a ways that they choose. The shame comes from how others view us not how we view ourselves; shame is inflicted on a woman for many things. In this case they told you how shameful it was to find your body enjoying what it was feeling. Now you feel the shame because of the need they forced upon you.”<br><br>“The domination of men made this trinity; fear, need, shame. To counter them we have to give you the tools. The fear eats at your courage from lack of trust and belief. The need you can counter with acceptance and control. The shame is only shame when allowed to be and with respect and love you will feel no shame. Alexandra, because the others did not understand and waited and the spell that opened you, you cannot do this alone. The domination on men, of a man full of cruelty and evil forged this trinity within you.”<br><br>Annette’s curled fingers lifted the chin of the younger female, her face had lowered and tears streaked her cheeks as the words had been heard.<br><br>“Alexandra, no more tears. The domination of cruelty and evil forged this trinity within you. We will use a domination of men of honor and pure heart to help you forge the tools you need.”<br><br>Annette free hand pulls from the folds of her dress a short length of simple leather with a buckle on the end. “Do you trust Baptiste, Alexandra? Truly trust him as you would have your father. Know that he respects you, cares deeply for you, would kill or die for you”<br><br>Alex looks into the other woman’s face and nods slowly as somewhere deep within what felt like a purr comforted her. “y Yes I trust Baptiste, I have known him for a long time and he saved me from those evil men. Yes I trust him. Why?”<br><br>Annette eyes seem to gleam as she looks into her own. “For 7 days you were in the hands of a man that claimed you, one you were forced to call master and one that did not care about you save for power he held over you. If you agree then this is what will be done to help counter what that male, did for he was no real man. You will become a slave again this time to Baptiste; you will wear his collar, call him master, do his bidding and will. For 8 days, seven to balance the seven you spent in that hell and one for your own.”<br><br>Alex eyes widen at the words but she felt the humming arousal at the thought as well. Deep within a pair of cat like eyes gave her comfort and in a way she didn’t understand agreement.<br><br>“This collar has a buckle it can be removed at any time if you so desire, but Alexandra if you choose to do so before the time is done we can no longer help you.” A sigh and the voice lowers, “this is just not for you Alexandra but also for Baptiste, he blames himself greatly for what happened and himself is afraid, ready to strike unfocused. Being your master will allow him to refocus as he helps you.”<br>“Will you agree to this little cat?”<br><br>Alex felt a nudge that made her head nod. Then more firmly she nodded again and said “I will agree”<br><br>A smile curved up Annette’s lips as she rose. “wait here Alexandra, I will be right back”<br>A swirl of silk as Annette opened the door and walked out. The room suddenly seemed different as Alex thought about what she had agreed to… some deep spot told her she would be fine, Baptiste would never hurt her and would help her with this. Yet it was a small spot and around it the darkness hovered telling her all they wanted was what she really was.<br><br>It seemed like it was forever but had to be just a few minutes when Annette returned with Baptiste, John Henry and Granger in tow.<br>She walked to Alex and offered her hands to help her stand.<br>“Alexandra do you agree to have Baptiste as your master till after dinner’s desert eight days hence? To obey his commands? Except his punishment if needed? To do whatever he commands? Will you accept his collar, his domination? Knowing it’s a symbol you can unbuckle and remove at anytime? Doing so though means we can no longer aid you”<br><br>“Do you agree to this?”<br><br>Alex nods “I, I agree to this”<br><br>Annette turning to Baptiste as 3 pairs of eyes widen in surprise, “This one has been hurt at the hands of man, forced into a yoke, a collar. Dominated cruelly and a trinity of fear, need, and shame forced upon her, Will you Baptiste be her master for 8 days and show her what truly it means to give oneself fully and completely.?”<br><br>Baptiste slowly nods, “I will be honored to do so”<br><br>“Step here, Alexandra, and present yourself” the woman’s voice whispered, loud enough for all to hear.<br><br>Baptiste for a moment swallowed as the young woman stepped to stand in front of him, “turn around Mon’Chaton” as she did he gently fitted the leather collar around her neck and lifting her hair buckled it in place to fit snug against her skin. <br><br>Trembling as she stood, her face lowered she heard a different timbre from Baptiste “who am I now girl? Am I your uncle or am I more?”<br><br>The word trembled as she spoke. “As long as I wear your collar you are my master, but I, I am unsure what to do?”<br><br>“Remove your cloths girl, until I command otherwise you will stay naked.” For a moment Alex almost couldn’t move, the grip of the words loud in her mind, but somewhere she found her trust in her uncle, her new master and with fingers that trembled she began to undress.</span></em><br><br><span style="font-family: arial;" class="bbc_font"><br>DuMonde mansion New Orleans, Spring 1872.<br><br>Alexandra stood looking out of the big window as her lips curled at the memories, her fingers idly playing with a gold necklace Baptiste had given her before she left 3 years earlier. She had not known when she agreed how librating the choice would eventually be. She had learned submissive and in turn saw how domination worked. She learned to respect herself, to understand the need, to be unafraid. To realize her sexuality was nothing to be ashamed of and to enjoy it<br>Some of what she learned took years to blossom, but that eight days had given her back her soul. She would always be grateful to the men in this house. They helped a scared and hurt young girl become a woman.<br><br>Turning to the door as John Henry stepped through, “so Dinner is ready” taking the tall man’s arm she began. “I have need of your contacts, I have visions now I can control and saw several others I believe are scions and will need my help.” <br>As she begins to describe them the man stops and moment a smiles, “Miss Sinclair, Katie, also known as One eyed Katie in the dime store pamphlets. She is the one that will be arriving later”<br><br><br>It was near midnight as Alex sat in the study reading by the gas light, giggling at the story of “One eyed Katie and the Posse” when she heard the hard pounding on the door. Standing with a swirl of the robe over her silk chemise, her slipper clad feet made no sound till she opened the door, as the fist of the one eyed woman was about to knock again. In an accent hard to place but exotic sounding she said “You must be Katie Sinclair, and I am Alexandra an I believe we are going to be grand friends”</span>
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>08-06-2009, 08:52:36</strong>
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				Katie leaned into the door frame, closing her eyes with a huge grin as she heard the latch opened to the night air.&nbsp; "Oh you are not going to believe..."&nbsp; She lifted her hat and let her raven hair spill over her shoulders, "... the night I am..."&nbsp; then opened her eyes again and found herself facing not Baptiste, nor John.&nbsp; Nor... hell, who was this girl? <br><br>"...having."<br><br>Her laughter faded rather quickly as she searched the young woman over.&nbsp; Quite the specimen, in fact.&nbsp; Silk and a robe... sleeping over.&nbsp; Creamy skin, slender, fine figure.&nbsp; A damn lovely face.&nbsp; <br><br>Yes, quite the specimen.<br><br>"Shhhh..."&nbsp; sprang back from the door as if a snake struck at her, standing upright with her hand at her waist.<br><br>The girl spoke.&nbsp; <i>"You must be Katie Sinclair..."</i>&nbsp; and Katie checked the number of doors on the street again, though if the girl knew her name it must be Baptiste's.<br><br>"Miss..."&nbsp; Katie cleared her throat.&nbsp; She suddenly felt like a fool with her hair all down and this ridiculous vest, all dusty anyway despite the efforts.&nbsp; With a wince, she spoke-- the Missourian accent was clear in her voice.&nbsp; "You have me at some disadvantage.&nbsp; Is, ah, this the home of Baptiste du Monde?" Her toe dragged over the stone threshold like a school-child addressing the lady of the house.&nbsp; "And if so, I don't see how that's going to make us great pals, if, ah, I'm interrupting something."&nbsp; Her one visible eye was downcast a moment, then flicked back up to Alexandra's considerable form.<br><br><i>What a fool... a genteel fellow like Baptiste, and me thinking to show up at his door?&nbsp; Like he'd have been waiting for her all these months?&nbsp; Of course, he'd take some sweetly dressed little vixen that probably speaks French and does French... things.&nbsp; One with a body, at that.&nbsp; Damn me for a fool.</i><br><br>"What I mean to say is... how exactly do you know my name?"<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>08-06-2009, 09:23:03</strong>
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				<br><em>“Where are my manners? Its late please do come in, I have had My uncle Baptiste’s servants ready a bath for you as well as a meal, you will have the room across the hall from his,” </em> her pale hair fell in silken waves to the middle of her back as she took the other woman’s arm. <em>“I am Alexandra Catherina Moorland, Lady Moorland to those who care about things like that.”</em><br><br>Leading the other woman, in she glanced over at John Henry, <em>“get Tommy to take Katie’s horse to the sable and bring her things to her room. I will make sure the bath is hot and help her if she needs…company”</em><br><br>Grinning at the other woman as her soft sensual scent curls around them and her hip brushes against Katie’s, <em>“Uncle Baptiste is not here, he won’t be returning until next week but till then you are his guest. He really is not my uncle, you know, but my father, rest his soul and him were dear friends for a long time, even before I was born”</em><br><br>Alex leads her toward the stairs. <em>“As for how I know you, I have seen you in my visions, you and others we have yet to meet. You see Katie I am like you, a daughter of a goddess.” </em> <br><br>As her blue eyes lift to meet the other woman’s, the fire in them is a kindred fire, vengeance barely checked held by her will. Her pink painted lips curl in a smile. <em>“Yes I believe we will be grand friends”</em><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>08-06-2009, 09:57:15</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Feeling a surge of some relief at the sight of John Henry, Katie tipped her head to him and smiled, knowing he'd feel her greeting rather than see it.&nbsp; She lets Alex take her arm and offers little resistance of yet; she'd rarely ever called on someone in high society, much less been invited to stay, so she restrained her urge to resist, she checked her jealousy back a notch, and she tried to be tactful.&nbsp; "Next week you said, Miss ... Moreland?"&nbsp; A glimmer of hope sprung to her eyes when she heard 'Uncle' though it evaporated almost instantly when the young woman elaborated.<br><br>She replayed the layout of rooms in her mind-- across the hall was the room where John had laid her traveling parcels the last time she was here, though she recalled with a tinge of self-consciousness that this wasn't where she'd slept the night.&nbsp; She didn't question the nature of the visions the stranger Alex had experienced, for certainly if she was affiliated with Baptiste, then she was probably a follower of the Loa he often spoke of.<br><br>Climbing the staircase, she briefly found herself consumed by the vivid memory of collapsing back onto those stairs with Baptiste pinning her down, the shirt gliding smoothly over his head as her kisses worked at his chest.&nbsp; She snapped out of the reverie.&nbsp; They turned the corner to the two pairs of upstairs doors, and Katie found herself turning her hat in her hand nervously.&nbsp; "So... are you from New Orleans, then?"&nbsp; She was trying to contain her jealousy from bleeding through, though she did sincerely appreciate the courtesy.<br><br>The door opened onto the small room; the ceiling angled with the slope of the roof, and a skylight stood propped open to the New Orleans night.&nbsp; The interior walls were a vivid emerald green, the structural walls bare brick with two narrow windows where white sheers fluttered gently in the evening breeze.&nbsp; A large bed occupied the better part of the room, with a dresser, an oil lamp with a frosted shade etched into a rose, a basin and-- having just been added-- a broad-shouldered tub full of tepid, clear water.&nbsp; A steaming kettle hangs beside it on an iron hook like some waiting fruit, next to a linen wrap and what looks to be a cotton shift.&nbsp; Katie takes a moment to trail her fingers over the embroidered quit on the bed, a faint smile at her lips as she does so.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Paladin</strong> on <strong>08-06-2009, 18:24:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Name: Johnathan Cross<br>Calling: Texas Ranger<br>Pantheon: Elohim<br>God: Michael<br>Nature: Judge<br><br>(http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o275/Paladin2436/SerenityComic1_Mal_600.jpg)<br><br>He also wears a white Duster and White Hat.<br><br>Strength: 4<br>Dexterity: 5<br>Stamina: 2<br><br>Charisma: 3<br>Manipulation: 1<br>Appearance: 3<br><br>Perception: 3<br>Intelligence: 3<br>Wits: 3<br><br>Associated Powers: Epic Strength, Epic Wits, Guardian, War, Zohar<br>Favored Attributes: Awareness, Brawl, Empathy, Fortitude, Melee, Presence<br><br>Academics: 1<br>Athletics: 2<br>Awareness (F): 3<br>Brawl (F): 3<br>Command: 1<br>Control: 2<br>Empathy (F): 2<br>Fortitude (F): 3<br>Melee (F): 1<br>Integrity: 2<br>Investigate: 3<br>Marksmanship: 3<br>Presence (F): 2<br>Survival: 3<br><br>Legend: 4<br>Legend points: 16<br><br>Virtues<br>Conviction: 1&nbsp; <br>Order: 3&nbsp; <br>Courage: 2 <br>Duty: 3 <br><br>Willpower: 6<br><br>Birthrights<br>Relic: 3<br>Creature: 2<br><br>Epic Attributes<br>Epic Wits: 1 (Rabbit Reflexes)<br>Epic Perception: 1 (Subliminal Warning)<br>Epic Dexterity: 3 (Trick Shooter, Cat’s Grace, Untouchable Opponent)<br><br>Boons<br>Guardian: 1 (Vigil Brand)<br>War: 1 (Blessing of Bravery)<br>Zohar: 3 (Radiant Spectacle, Banishment, Uncloaked Radiance)<br><br>Relic: 2 Dot (Colt Peacemaker. Grants access to the War Purview, Speed is dropped to 4)<br>Relic: 1 Dot (Ranger Badge. Grants access to Guardian)<br><br><br>Equipment:<br><br>Lever Action Rifle<br>Shotgun.<br>Colt Peacemaker<br>Clothes<br>Saddlebags<br>Supplies<br>100 rounds for peacemaker<br>50 rounds for the Rifle<br>25 roungs for the Shotgun
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>08-06-2009, 18:25:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I Let the woman move on into the room and watched as she trailed her fingers over the embroidered quilt, I could see how uncomfortable Katie was. It also didn’t take much to see the hint of jealousy, John Henry had told me that Katie had spent the night with Baptisite after that job. <br><em>“Not Really, I was born in Egypt, my mother is Bastet, a member of the ancient Egyptian gods” </em> <br><br>Leaning back against the dresser, my feet a bit apart so that the robe clings to me showing off my body, outlining my full breasts and my slightly hard nipples, the silk hugging my hips. My hands rest on the dresser’s edge.<br><br><em>“ I do apologize sometimes I get a bit carried away, and please call me Alex. I took the liberty of setting out some oils and lotions I brought from overseas. I just arrived back today, I have been gone a bit more then 3 years”</em><br><br>My eyes look over the lithe young woman, she really was not much older than me. Yet where I had good beds to sleep in, books to read she had lived harder, much closer to the edge. Her lithe body moved with a lethal sensual grace she didn’t realize she had. Hunter. Lioness. That was what she was, smooth sensual, fierce and lovely. I could feel my arousal, my nipples tightening as I watched her. One of the rules I had yet to break.<br><br><em>“I also wanted to thank you, Flinchum was filth, and John told me you killed him. Good!. I was too young to do it myself and too new to my powers. When his killers murdered my father and kidnapped me.”</em><br><br>I could feel the fire in me, burning as I remembered those 7 days what felt a lifetime ago. Flinchum was part of those names that had been spoken during those days. One behind so much evil and hurt. It took me several heartbeats to gain control of the fire, leash it back.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>08-06-2009, 20:49:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Listening to Alex, my head tips back in mild surprise at her explanation.&nbsp; "Egypt..." I had some vague understanding of that country from bible tales.&nbsp; Stories I'd come to take with a grain of salt in the light of recent events.&nbsp; The name rings up images of pyramids, big stone points of wood-cut lines on a stippled blotter page in a book from my mama's shelf.&nbsp; Men without shirts, wearing strange hats and weilding whips.&nbsp; Kind of a nice thought if you're into that kind of thing.<br><br>I listen when she explains.&nbsp; She's obviously gone to some lengths to make me comfortable... offering lotions and oils and things I haven't the faintest clue how to use properly.&nbsp; <br><br>"Three years..."&nbsp; The timeframe leaves Baptiste inoccent of filandering with me.&nbsp; I just nod, but I can't really hide that there are gears turning.&nbsp; If she's telling the truth, then it'd been two years since she stayed here when I met him.&nbsp; So she hadn't been shacking up with him.&nbsp; <br><br>I look over at her, the way she's leaning on the dresser with that soft robe falling on her body like water.&nbsp; My eyes cut away to the basin, then flick back to her eyes.&nbsp; I'm not entirely sure where to look with this girl... although along her body is a pretty tempting place to start.<br><br>It's rare that I see another woman in such intimate quarters.&nbsp; Some women, I'm led to understand, dress before each other in shared quarters, or help each other with grooming tasks that bring about a specific intimacy that's understood to be genuine and superficial.&nbsp; Some even do what I enjoyed a couple times with my goddess... they have vulgar terms for it, which I don't apply to such a thing that meant so much to me.&nbsp; I even shared a similar comfort with a couple others in my time.&nbsp; <br><br>When I dream or lay awake at night, or when I'm alone and lonely, those are the thoughts that bring me to comfort or help stir the pleasures of the flesh... Baptiste's long, creamed-coffee body sliding down mine.&nbsp; My lady's fingers in my hair, encouraging and tender, when she guided me between her thighs and whispered to me.&nbsp; Then, there was that schoolteacher outside of Tulsa who had invited me to stay with her after I cleared out a nest of twenty-foot rattlers that had sprung up outside of town and started eating heads of sheep... I thought she was so proper and polite, letting me stay in her bed and all, until that night when she'd turned over and planted a kiss on me that set me off like a lightning bolt... <br><br>Well, this girl sprung thoughts of that like into my mind.&nbsp; I could tell that she and Baptiste had been like that.&nbsp; Somehow it was bothering me less and less at the moment, and I found my eyes wandering back to her slippered feet, where they roamed up her with the unashamed study of one invited.<br><br>She was, perhaps, inviting me to look.&nbsp; Was she showing off, or just... well... being friendly..?<br><br>"Flinchum."&nbsp; I draw a quick sharp breath, snap my gaze to the walls for a moment before meeting her eyes again.&nbsp; Her confession shocked me, stirred a twinge of shame and embarassment at my selfishness.&nbsp; "His men--"&nbsp; I didn't want to repeat it, for doing so might worry the still-stinging wounds.&nbsp; <br><br>I swallow and hang my hat on a simple hook by the door.&nbsp; I draw one hand through my black hair, let it hang there at the base of my neck.&nbsp; "I'm sorry," I manage to say under my breath, not wanting to insult her but unable to resist showing some sympathy.&nbsp; "It's not easy."&nbsp; It's all I can really say, but I think maybe she shares some of the understanding of what I've known.&nbsp; <br><br>Wringing my fingers out of the black leather gloves then, I want to ask about her father, but I refrain.&nbsp; Part of me wants to investigate and learn what other contacts she knows, in case there's more hunting to be done, but I push it aside.&nbsp; I notice something else though... I'm fairly inclined to notice things, especially in a close up situation like this.&nbsp; I notice that her body seems to be responding, whether to me or to the memories I can't be sure.&nbsp; <br><br>There's a flare of self-conscious shame in me as I realize that I like it.&nbsp; That it kind of excites me having her here.&nbsp; Although I don't know her, I don't know that she tells me the truth, and I don't know what she wants from me... in spite of that, she's a flame.&nbsp; I can't help but feel her heat, want to warm myself by it.&nbsp; <br><br>I don't feel entirely myself.&nbsp; Her beauty, her responsive body, her vulnerability, her history with Baptiste-- I'm sure it's there-- all of it draws me into some dark hole in myself and I feel some core of me open up.&nbsp; Something deep in my body opens up and responds to her, and suddenly I realize that my heart's faster, my body's tingling.<br><br>Fingers numb, I work at the laces on the vest, watching her.&nbsp; Wanting to quell her vulnerability, to let her expose herself to me more.&nbsp; Letting it hang open, the shirt beneath unbuttoned to my navel, I'm barely modest as I lean against the bedpost, my ass in the denim pants settling gently onto the brass footboard rails.&nbsp; "You..."&nbsp; and my words fail, so I just cross one leg at my thigh and slip the boot off one foot, then reverse my legs and repeat the gesture.&nbsp; I may not be a rose, but I'm clean, and somehow I feel like matching her openness with a trust of my own.<br><br>"You seem stronger for it," I manage, but the words seem hollow.&nbsp; My chaps fall to the floor as I loose my belt, the denim beneath them darker than the faded, exposed parts of the cloth that still clings to my legs.&nbsp; The gunbelt goes with them, landing with the resounding of metal and hard leather on the small golden-flowered rug.&nbsp; Without intending to, I realize, I've held on to my pistol, slid it straight from the holster.&nbsp; I'm not handling it to weild it, simply wrapping my fingers loosely around the guard and barrel so I don't seperate from it.<br><br>"It's nice here."&nbsp; I sniff lightly, still holding the gun as I stand barefoot, my small feet working the carpet, the softness of it so unlike the grass and moss I love... different and good.&nbsp; I'm wearing just that open shirt and vest, my pale-gold skin visible to my navel in a long, thin V, the hints of my girlish breasts there in demure shadows.&nbsp; The jeans ride low on my hips without the belt to support them.&nbsp; I might look a little odd with the gun still in my hand, but I can't seem to let it go far.<br><br>After a moment of this, I take a few steps, circling the bath to set my revolver on the basin-stand-- immediately next to the tub.&nbsp; It looks like an elegant cannon sitting there.&nbsp; In doing so, I move so close to Alex that she can feel the heat of my skin.&nbsp; "It's gonna be just fine, isn't it."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 17:17:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=37975.msg1946673#msg1946673">Quote from: MadPanda on 07-06-2009, 20:03:48</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Sisterhood of Mischief</strong></span><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>One figure approaches the table without hesitation or fear. But then, she had no reason to fear the celestial. A nymph, one of her fathers servants and she suspected lovers, had visited her a week ago when she was camping out by the road "Seek out the daughter of the Monkey King." she told her "You will walk many paths and face many hardships together. The Princess will be found in Rancho Verde, you may find yourself drawn there by Fate." Before her visitation, Jenny had placed no stock in Fate and Destiny, now they were major parts of her day to day life. Hearing about the hooded bandits on the road and finding out where the attacks had occurred only made her more aware of that fact. But she had a duty to her father, and a duty to guard the world.<br><br>The black haired woman approached the table cautiously. This girl was the only one in the room who could be the daughter of the Monkey King, she had a monkey with her, dressed in Chinese clothes and everything. The daughter of the Messenger God tapped on the table "Room for one more? I'll get a round in." she said, her smile calm and easy. No reason to be deceitful or undercover with this girl, much to her relief. The cloak and dagger stuff was starting to drive her head in.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 17:30:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<span class="bbc_u"><strong>Sisterhood of Mischief</strong></span><br><br>Golden eyes turned to regard the new arrival, and the Celestial looked her up and down slowly...in a manner to which the dark-haired woman was doubtlessly already resigned to getting from men.&nbsp; Finally, the girl's face lit with a wide and playful grin and she gestured to the other empty seat at the table.<br><br>"Please do," she said cheerfully.&nbsp; "You will be better company than these poor wretches!"<br><br>She turned and said something to the monkey, who stood on his hind feet and bowed.<br><br>"This is Uncle.&nbsp; I am SuLan.&nbsp; And you are?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 17:51:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong><span class="bbc_u">Sisterhood of Mischief</span></strong><br><br>Green eyes met Gold, frowned slightly at the way she examined her body. She had felt that gaze before, Jenny was not especially attractive, but she was not hideous either, and several men had pulled her over into an alley for some rough fun. Most had left with broken limbs if they were lucky<br><br>"I'm Jenny Falstaff." She plonked herself down into the chair, sitting straight, but with a distinct air that suggested she liked being off of her feet. "I was told I'd bump into a partner around here, and after hearing news of these attacks, I'm eager to find her."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 17:56:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Golden eyes sparkled with mischief, and the girl's grin got a little wider...at least until the monkey squeaked softly and reached out to slap her wrist with a tiny staff!<br><br>"It is possible that I am she whom you have been told to seek," SuLan managed, slowing down and lightening her accent.&nbsp; "I, of course, have been given no such word...but I am here on family business, and if you are here to help with that I welcome you gladly.&nbsp; More gladly than these, anyway.&nbsp; Enough!&nbsp; The trail is long and dusty, and you are no doubt parched.&nbsp; What will you have to drink?"<br><br>She turned and whistled for the bartender...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 18:04:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny produced a handful of coins "I'll just have a beer, I'm not a big one for drinking myself." she handed a few of the small metallic disks to the bartender "Order whatever you like, I'll cover it." she leaned back slightly in her seat "I'm here on family business too. I'd be happy to help you out with whatever you're planning."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 21:41:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For some reason, the word 'planning' sent the flame-haired girl into peals of merry laughter.&nbsp; The monkey just sat down again and slapped his tiny head with one hand, then reached out to wrap the girl's wrist again.<br><br>Several drinks and a large meal later, the diminutive Celestial got down to business.<br><br>"Word has reached my father's ear that a person of interest is causing most disharmonious events in the vicinity.&nbsp; Seeing as how he has other difficulties at the present moment, he has tasked me with the unpleasant necessity of correcting the matter."&nbsp; She held her most recent glass aloft.&nbsp; "That is, we track it down and kick it back to Hundun.&nbsp; As for finding it..."<br><br>She shrugged and grinned mischievously.<br><br>"I am open to suggestion.&nbsp; Wandering around and calling out challenges at the top of my lungs is not likely to work well."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 21:57:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny shrugged "I suggest we watch and wait outside. I'm not a tracker, but when the time comes I'll be ready to battle whatever these things may be. By the sounds of it, they don't exactly try to hide their activities." She stood, nodding at the girl "Are you ready to go looking for trouble?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 22:04:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Now how much trouble could a pair of young women such as ourselves possibly get into in a town like this?"<br><br>SuLan waggled her eyebrows suggestively, scooped up the monkey with one hand, slammed back her drink with the other, and stood.&nbsp; Now Jenny could clearly see how small the girl was...<br><br>"You lead," she added.&nbsp; "I will enjoy the view.&nbsp; At least until someone gives me something else to do!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 22:16:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny nodded and strode outside, little girl in tow <em>Can she really protect herself?</em> the older woman wondered <em>I know Scions are divinely empowered, but... she seems so small and fragile</em> Jenny decided that she would prioritise guarding the younger girl, she seemed almost eager to fight... had she ever actually faced Titanspawn before?<br><br>"Say, Monkey Girl, how are you in a fight?" Jenny had the sword of deception strapped under her skirt, ready to whip it out at a moments notice. The blade was so light and well balanced she could slash it through the air as easily as a child would wave a reed, but of course the sword was much more deadly. "Can you handle yourself?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 22:27:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Of course not!&nbsp; I am but a frail blossom of Chinese womanhood, washed ashore in a strange and barbaric land that sees me as the weak and helpless creature I am." &nbsp; The girl's grin blossomed anew, touched with something darker.&nbsp; "I shall be utterly helpless before the might of our assembled foes and shall no doubt squeal and shriek like a proper little housewife.&nbsp; I ought to be providing man-children for some big strapping man instead of wandering about like this."<br><br>Plunging ahead of Jenny into the night, grabbing a bottle out of the hand of a passed out customer as she went, the girl weaved uneasily along the street, singing at the top of her lungs...badly.&nbsp; Had Jenny understood a word of Mandarin, she would have heard the girl's words thusly:<br><br><em>"Stone soldiers stand guard over the glass chessboard<br>Where those who seek her sail silently among them!<br>Past the see through mountain and beyond<br>The elephant who would drink the river dry<br>In an ancient banyan tree<br>Sleeps the Empress of the Southern Sky..."</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 22:43:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny shook her head, but took out her sword and held it behind her back, walking along behind the monkey girl a respectful distance, certainly not close enough that anyone would think them together. With a grim smile she spotted some men walking out of the shadows, faces covered and clothes darkened. It seems that the red haired princess's plan had worked. She made down the street, adjusting her grip on the blade and readying her body to rush at the outlaws once SuLan was out of the way.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 22:50:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				About a block or so later, Jenny saw the other end of the trap close as three more darker shadows appeared to block the 'drunken' girl's path.<br><br>"That's far enough, slanteye."<br><br>SuLan halted, weaving in place from side to side as through drunk.<br><br>"Is your name (hic!) Lu Bu?"<br><br>"What?&nbsp; What the hell're you talkin' about?"<br><br>"I will take that as a no.&nbsp; You are known as Xuande?&nbsp; Or Kongming?"<br><br>"Look, just shut up an' come here!"<br><br>"Aiyah, stupid impatient gwailo...in such a hurry to catch his ancestors!"&nbsp; Hiccuping again, the girl slid into a sloppy stance that made her look like an easy target.&nbsp; "Okay by me!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 23:00:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				They had made their move, it was time for Jenny to make hers. She withdrew her sword and crouched down, then sprung upwards and outwards in a mighty leap, travelling the distance of the whole street in one swift bound. She flipped in mid air, angling her descent as only a divinely empowered being could. She started to fall, skirts flapping around her legs, landing feet first onto the face of the leading outlaw. He went down, his head impacting the ground with an ugly sounding "Crunch!" <br><br>"Mind if I join you?" she said, adopting a guard position with her blade and removing her feet from the man's face. He didn't scream; his jaw had been shattered from the force of the impact. It hurt to move it even slightly. She wiped the blood from the soles of her boots on the dirt and got ready to face them off.<br><br>(Used Knack: Holy bound and Boon: Skys Grace if just the knack didn't boost jumping distances enough.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 23:13:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				In the moment between Jessica's leap and landing, the 'drunken' girl lashed out with her fists and struck one of the three hoodlums facing her...hard.&nbsp; The man let out a howl as something snapped in his chest, followed by a new blossom of agony in his groin.&nbsp; His fall took him safely out of the path of Jenny's blade when she landed on the leader.<br><br>Whirling with a manic grin and a forced hiccup, SuLan sized up the three remaining thugs.<br><br>"Oooo, such big guns!&nbsp; Must be compensating.&nbsp; Typical man type."<br><br>She pouted playfully at one of them.<br><br>"What you so scared of?&nbsp; I'm just a little girl, yes?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 23:20:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny spun, sending her dress flying out around her, and lashed out with her heel. It caught one of the outlaws in the right of his ribcage. With a grim smile, Jenny twisted her foot and drove her toes into the gap between ribs, hard. As the man fell, screaming and bleeding, Jenny planted her foot on the ground and lazily twirled her blade around her hand<br><br>"Do you think they're even worth killing?" she said, ducking out of the way as one of them fired his gun.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 23:27:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Spinning gracefully out of the way of the same bullet, the red-haired girl cheerfully chirped out:<br><br>"No, not really.&nbsp; Try to leave one alive.&nbsp; We can follow him home!"<br><br>Of the two remaining, one tried to aim more carefully at the bobbing and weaving red-haired blur...right up until the point when she danced up next to him and kicked him in both knees.&nbsp; Her elbow strike to his solar plexus cut off his howl of agony and left him gasping in the dust.<br><br>"Four down, one up.&nbsp; Huh.&nbsp; You want him?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 23:37:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jennys hand shot out, grabbing the remaining man by the throat and lifting him up off the ground with little effort "No, I think I can handle him by myself. We should leave one conscious and uninjured to lead us back to their master anyway." she grinned slightly "Now then Mister outlaw, where is your base?" She started to apply pressure to his throat, her fingers pressing hard into his flesh.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 23:41:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SuLan stretched lazily, then turned her attentions to the two men she'd dropped--they were still alive, after all, if badly hurt.<br><br>"Feh.&nbsp; Too easy!&nbsp; All I had to do was loudly brag a few times about how I was going to find you all and see you hang, and you come to me instead."<br><br>Disarming them, she wandered back and leaned against Jenny's flank, gazing up at the dangling outlaw.<br><br>"Hmmm.&nbsp; I think he won't talk.&nbsp; I bet he won't dare cross his dark masters.&nbsp; I bet he's too too cowardly to spill the beans."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 23:44:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Well, we're going to have to get the knowledge out of him somehow, and I'm not liking the idea of just beating the tar out of him until he talks." she frowned, still holding him up off the ground "Do you know any tricks that would get him to start blabbing?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>10-06-2009, 23:54:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The petite red-head grinned at the man.<br><br>"You tell us what we want to know, or lead us to your camp, and we won't tell your master you betrayed him.&nbsp; Also, we will not break your kneecaps and leave you to the tender mercy of these townsfolk you have terrorized.&nbsp; And I can be fairly sure you will not be shot in the back if you should decide to run away very fast when we find your master."<br><br>She tilted her head, eyes glinting with mischief.<br><br>"Or...we break you in little pieces, drag you along with us, and proudly announce that it was your help who led to our discovery of your fellow bandits.&nbsp; You will probably still be alive when we get there.&nbsp; They will probably thank you."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 00:07:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The dark haired farm girl uncurled her hand to let the man drop to the floor with a bang "So what's it going to be? A chance at survival, or certain pain and death?" her sword gleamed in the low light of the street "It's your call."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 00:28:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The man looked from one woman to the other, eyes wide with shock.<br><br>"Oh...okay, fine!&nbsp; I'll show ya!&nbsp; I'll...I'll do it.&nbsp; Just...y'all let me go, right?"<br><br>SuLan cracked her knuckles and nodded, the sudden and sharp movement drawing another squawk of alarm from the man...who, upon closer inspection, couldn't have been that old.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 04:57:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>New Orleans: {Alex and Kate}</strong><br><br><span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font">Alex could see the other girl was uncomfortable as she pulled off her boots; someone giving her thanks was probably rare enough. Her sympathy was clear and it made her uncomfortable as if she too knew what it felt like to be used. Kate moved close enough so I could smell her scent, musky, of the trail and even a hint of gunpowder. I know she caught my scent of jasmine. My right hand lifted to the golden chain close around my neck and my fingers idly traced along it as I considered things. I far as I knew that was my only tell and even now I still caught myself.<br>Realizing what I was doing and stepping around Kate letting my fingers caress along her tight denim clad ass. <em>“Yes, Kate, I believe it will be just fine.” </em> I could see the reaction my touch had as I moved to the steaming picture and began to pour its hot water into the tub.<br><br><em>“Go ahead and undress while I add the oils. This one is aromatic meant to open the sinus and help with breathing.”</em> Dumping the small bowl into the water and I let my fingers swirl it around. Stepping to the other side as I poured the second small bowl, <em>“this will open your pours and help smooth and soften your skin. And Kate, you won’t mind if I call you Kate will you? Katie is a girl’s name or one from a dime novel. You are neither, so I will call you Kate or maybe Kathryn. Kate even you can have nice skin once and awhile”</em><br><br>Walking over to the chair by the window, I drop the derringer from my robe’s pocket on its seat and then untie the robe to drop it over the chair’s back. Turning I dim the gas light knowing my silk chemise is translucent and maybe even shear in places. My lips curl in a soft smile as I toe off my slippers. <em>“You know I have <strong>never</strong> been with another woman, one of the rules I have yet to break.” </em> <br><br>Watching as the other woman disrobes and then lowers herself into the tub, finally walking over I offer. <em>“There is a shampoo I brought back in the final bowl, let me show you how to use it.” </em>&nbsp; &nbsp;</span><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 14:59:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong><span class="bbc_u">Sisterhood of Mischief</span></strong><br><br>Jenny nodded and prodded him with the toe of her boot, signalling that he should start walking fast. He scampered up and led them briskly out of town, he wasn't dumb enough to try and run away from these two fearsome women. He led them off the path towards a rocky outcrop, maybe twenty minutes walk away from the beaten road.<br><br>The farmer looked down at SuLan as they walked, and finally broke the silence "What was that you did? With the staggering and weaving? Some kind of oriental secret?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 16:38:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Ancient Chinese secret known as Drunken Monkey Fist."<br><br>SuLan reached up to stroke Uncle's furry head, to the little Capuchin's clear delight.<br><br>"Uncle taught me the basics of Monkey-style, and Honorable Father gave me the other.&nbsp; I just put them together.&nbsp; Very good for entertaining at parties."<br><br>Her golden eyes sought Jenny's sword for a moment.<br><br>"Yours is no ordinary...what do they call them?&nbsp; Kentucky Toothpicks?&nbsp; No, not ordinary at all.&nbsp; A striking specimen.&nbsp; May I ask how you came by it?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 16:49:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny held out the blade for the girl to examine. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, the blade blue-green with shifting patterns dancing under the steel surface, the hilt intertwining gold strands of varying thickness "A present from my own father, he called it a Xiphos. I just call it a sword. It's light and well balanced enough to strike faster than any other I've seen." To the celestials well trained eyes, the womans motions were direct and forceful, but not unrefined, rather like Xinguiquan style fighting. "He gave it to me when he first visited me, said I should use it well." her mind drifted back to her time in that valley, the time spent finding and eradicating every monster she could find within the rocks.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 16:53:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"And then he turned you loose."<br><br>The petite Asian nodded in understanding.<br><br>"Ah, well.&nbsp; Our sorry lot in life, yes?"&nbsp; She gave Jenny another appraising look, those eyes lingering on the other woman's chest.&nbsp; "At least nobody will mistake you for a boy..."<br><br>Then she turned her attention back to their guide, who had slowed his pace.<br><br>"Gettin' close," he said miserably.&nbsp; "Really!&nbsp; It's just up that way.&nbsp; Got an old mine that played out a while back.&nbsp; One of the...uh, the boss, back in town?&nbsp; He used ta work it.&nbsp; Been using it as a base..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 17:01:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny blushed. She had never given much thought to her bust, but the curve of her chest was rather prominent, especially compared to the girl she was travelling with. She tightened her grip on her blade and nodded, reaching out and putting a hand on the mans shoulder "You go back to the town and rest. If I ever find out you've returned to this kind of life, I will hunt you down myself." she lifted him by the collar and placed him behind her, not stopping in her stride.<br><br>"Well then Princess, looks like we have a monster to slay. Shall we go in and demand a fight?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 17:05:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Oh, no.&nbsp; He goes back to town, those good people will flay him alive!&nbsp; Run.&nbsp; Run away very fast.&nbsp; Find a temple or something and pray like mad to your strange round-eye gods."<br><br>Then, dismissing the unwilling guide from her thoughts as though he had never been there, the slender young woman drew her own sword from the sheath on her back--a thin, flexible, razor-sharp ribbon of steel, etched with several Chinese characters.<br><br>"Let us go see my cousin and speak to him of his errors."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 17:12:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She nodded and smiled, liking this girls style, and dropped down from the small cliff into the open area outside the mineshaft "Cousin? You've met this titanspawn before then?" she looked around, tensing her legs to leap at a moments notice if she got charged. She had faced many titanspawn, and she hoped that this one would not be as tough as the cobra who's hide she wore around her waist. "Or is that just a formal thing?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 17:16:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Taking a more acrobatic route down the rocks, scrambling nimbly from handhold to handhold, SuLan swiftly joins Jenny at the bottom.<br><br>"Strictly formal.&nbsp; I hear he's somewhat simian, which sort of puts him under Honorable Father's domain.&nbsp; Maybe.&nbsp; I think the paperwork on that is still being reviewed."<br><br>So saying, she strode resolutely into the dark mouth of the mine, bold as brass, as if proceeding along Main Street in daylight.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 17:29:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny nodded and followed, sword at guard. She could afford to play around with street thugs, not so with a raging titanspawn. "Sounds like complicated stuff..." that was when she was interrupted by the roar.<br><br>She could just make the shape out in the shadows. It was... massive, taking up almost all of the tunnel with its hunched form. Its fur was black, from dirt or naturally she didn't know, and the only real detail she could make out were two orange, hate filled eyes. Jenny licked her suddenly dry lips "You take the right, I go from the left?" she said, springing out of the way as a massive fist swung at her, burying itself in the rock with a loud boom noise.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 17:41:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SuLan skipped playfully back out of the way of the first strike.&nbsp; She did not answer Jenny, but she moved to the right side of the beastly form...<br><br>"Good morning, cousin!&nbsp; Honorable Father sends his greetings!"<br><br>Her blade flashed in an impressive yet impractical flourish.<br><br>"The Lord of All Monkeykind would hear your explanations for siding with Hundun from your own lips.&nbsp; Or you can speak to the Ten Lords of Underneath.&nbsp; Your choice."<br><br>With a roar, the ape-thing flailed at her with a massive fist!&nbsp; Close enough to blow her hair back from her face, but not good enough to hit.&nbsp; This earned a brief comment in Mandarin.<br><br><em>"Why do they always insist on doing this the hard way?"</em>[/color]<br><br>Then, and only then, did the Asian girl join the battle in earnest...<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 17:54:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny danced in and out of the monsters reach, slashing at its arm with her sword when in range, but never seeming to do much damage to it. Indeed, the wounds seemed to make it thrash at her harder. She frowned, slashing at its hand as it came dangerously close to hitting her, then deciding to try a more direct attack.<br><br>She bounced up and onto its back, sword held downwards. "Let's try this!" she exclaimed, stabbing it as hard as she could, slipping the xiphos in between armoured ribs and driving it hard into the beasts internal organs. Before she could withdraw and try again, the huge ape leaped up and slammed his back into the roof of the mine, crushing Jenny against the rocks with a sickening set of crunches. The woman gasped and fell to the ground, slumped up into a heap. The golden hilt of her sword still sticking out of the beasts back.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 18:13:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Hey!"<br><br>SuLan took the opportunity to gain the creature's back as it landed, gripping the hilt of Jenny's xiphos with her free hand,&nbsp; her weight wrenching it back and forth in the wound as she dangled precariously.<br><br>"Take this, you overgrown baboon!"<br><br>Her other hand stabbed the point of her sword into the titanspawn repeatedly, drawing blood but seemingly making no further impression...until the beast tried again to slam the Scion on his back against the ceiling.&nbsp; Letting go of both blades, SuLan threw herself free at the last second...and the great beast slammed into the rocks, driving both swords through its spinal column!
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 18:21:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The titanspawn staggered and fell with a crash, roaring one last time before cutting out, coughing up a bubbling mix of blood and bile out of its mouth. The beast was slain, which just left Jenny.<br><br>The woman had huddled up against one of the walls, shaking and sweating. SuLan could see that one of her legs was messed up badly, twisted and mangled from an especially heavy rock falling on it. She had shoved it off, but her leg would be unable to support her.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 18:24:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ignoring the two blades for the moment, SuLan crouched down next to Jenny.<br><br>"Are you all right?&nbsp; That was a solid hit..."&nbsp; She eyed the twisted leg.&nbsp; "Silly question.&nbsp; Hold on.&nbsp; I'll go find something to splint this with and get your sword back."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 18:29:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny coughed and shook her head "No, no need. I'll heal this myself once I set it..." she set her hands on her leg, and, with a grimace on her face, started to pop the bones back into place. There were a lot of breaks... enough that a mere mortal would have died from the injury "Stupid... shouldn't have been so cocky." she muttered, snapping the last fragment of bone back into position with a cry "And now..." she frowned and flexed her leg muscles, sending power surging to the bones, knitting them up and regrowing the marrow. SuLan could see that as she did this, a number of smaller gashes over her body closed themselves without so much as a nick "There we go..." she said, massaging the leg "Good as new, or near enough."<br><br>(Used Knack: Self Healing)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 18:34:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SuLan watched this with wide eyes, nodding appreciatively.<br><br>"Good trick!&nbsp; Maybe I should learn that one some time.&nbsp; Okay, I go get swords..."<br><br>Fetching and cleaning both swords, she returned to Jenny's side and crouched down.<br><br>"This doesn't make sense.&nbsp; Where's the rest of the gang?&nbsp; Surely we cannot have gotten all of them in town."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 18:45:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny took her sword, sheathing it in her boot, and put a reassuring hand on the redhead's shoulder "They're probably out raiding or something, would you want to spend time with that if you had the choice?" she nodded at the titanspawns corpse "They'll probably be back in a few hours to report in. Until then, we have this place to ourselves."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 18:51:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Shall we prepare a welcome for them, do you think?"<br><br>SuLan grinned wickedly, her eyes again drawn to Jenny's chest.<br><br>"Mmmmm..."<br><br>Then she shook herself, as if fighting to regain her composure.<br><br>"Or at least explore and see what we can find in this den of iniquity."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 18:54:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny gripped SuLan's shoulder and drew her closer "We have a few hours, and after that ordeal I want to lie down for a bit. You don't object to staying with me and keeping me company, do you?" she blushed, looking away slightly. Truth be told, she liked the way the girl admired her body, and decided to strike out a bit "My dress gets so tight around my chest... I wish I knew enough about sewing to make them roomier up there."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 19:02:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SuLan blinked, then smiled softly.<br><br>"Ah.&nbsp; You don't mind, then?"&nbsp; She giggled.&nbsp; "Honorable Father is a bit of a womanizer, and it seems to have rubbed off."<br><br>A soft squeak from over her shoulder brought SuLan's attention back to Uncle, who peered at Jenny from under the Asian's poncho.<br><br>"You go stand guard, then,"she said to him.&nbsp; "We will rest.&nbsp; Just rest.&nbsp; A dead titanspawn is not a cozy roommate."<br><br>With a shrug that seemed all too human and utterly resigned, the Capuchin slid down SuLan's body and skittered away.&nbsp; Then the slender young woman sat next to Jenny and leaned into her side.<br><br>"Just rest.&nbsp; For now."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 19:09:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny put an arm around her protectively "Thanks. You know, you're pretty cute. Something else you take from your father?" she asked, rubbing a shoulder absently. "Or is that all you, Princess?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 19:15:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Letting out a soft sigh and snuggling closer, SuLan smiled to herself.<br><br>"He <em>is</em> called the Handsome Monkey King...but I suspect that I favor my mother in most ways.&nbsp; I still remember her face, and what I see in the mirror grows close."<br><br>Running fingers through her fire-red hair, SuLan glanced up at Jenny.&nbsp; Then, impulsively, she craned her neck out and kissed the taller woman softly on the cheek.<br><br>"You are also comely, you know?&nbsp; Not like these silly, overly pneumatic, pinch-waisted, mincing, shrinking flowers with their golden hair and blue eyes..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 19:18:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny gave SuLan a kiss on the forehead, then frowned "Pneumatic? what does that mean?" her hand drifted down the Monkey Princesses body, idly wondering what it looked like without the coverings. Jenny was most definitely not pinch waisted, shrinking or mincing. Her hips barely swayed as she walked, she stood out in a crowd, even compared to most men, and her waist was thick not with fat, but solid blocks of muscle.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 19:22:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SuLan giggled and demonstrated, cupping her hands in front of her boyish chest as if supporting a large pair of breasts.<br><br>"You are much more naturally proportioned," she smiled.&nbsp; "I find that much nicer, easier on the eyes.&nbsp; Fashion?&nbsp; Feh."<br><br>Giving the taller woman another kiss, SuLan shifted so that her lips brushed Jenny's ear.<br><br>"Besides, I <em>like</em> my women a bit larger than I am.&nbsp; Easier to sit in their laps and cuddle.&nbsp; Although all my life I thought I should have a husband by now...but that is not for me."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 19:25:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny smirked a bit "I'm not exactly small either." she said, shifting SuLan with a gentle push so that her flat chest pushed into Jennys rather rounded one "And I'm more than a bit larger than you, Princess. But I find small women... cute." she ran her fingers down to hesitantly touch the Princesses bum "Easier to hold on to."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 19:28:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The Asian girl licked her lips slowly.<br><br>"Does this mean you won't mind if I decide to hang around for a while?"<br><br>She rocked in Jenny's lap, pressing herself against the taller woman, rising to her knees when she felt Jenny's hands on her firm bottom.<br><br>"We seem to make a good couple, you and I.&nbsp; And I have a feeling the Fates would keep us together in any case...interfering old crones that they are!"<br><br>Then she bent to kiss the base of Jenny's throat, running her tongue playfully along the other woman's skin.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 19:30:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny inclined her head and answered with a soft kiss onto SuLans lips "Princess... I would be honoured if you would let me travel with you." she teased at the monkey girls belt "you know, the raiders won't be back for hours... we have plenty of time with just you and me." she kissed her again "Want to see just how large I am, up close and personal?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 19:36:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Tempting," SuLan smiled, but then jerked a thumb at the massive corpse.&nbsp; "Just not in here, yeah?&nbsp; He gives me the creeps."<br><br>She pulled away and stretched lazily, luxuriously.<br><br>"So how about we find out what else is down here, and maybe find a little nook somewhere where we can continue this conversation?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 19:40:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny nodded "True, I was so lost in you I'd forgotten he was there." She scooped SuLan up into one arm, and walked deeper into the cave, cradling the Celestial easily in her grip, holding her pretty firmly by her bottom, probably the most tempting feature of her body "Hmm, wonder what they have back here..." a little ways further into the cave, behind a few bends well out of the giant apes view and too small for him to fit down, was a rather nicely done up living area. There were several chairs, a bed, table, chests presumably filled with loot, and stacks of supplies "This must be where they hole up during the day." Jenny said, still holding onto her new friend... and probably more than friend.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 19:47:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SuLan wiggled in Jenny's grasp, moaning from time to time at the feel of the woman's strong hands on her butt.<br><br>"Mmmm, yes.&nbsp; A cozy little hideout.&nbsp; Perhaps they keep their loot here as well?"&nbsp; She turned until her lips brushed Jenny's ear.&nbsp; "Or is that not the sort of treasure you seek right this moment?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Galanoder</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 19:49:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jenny smiled, and tossed the younger woman onto the bed, joining her seconds after "Come on, I want to see just what kind of body you keep tucked away under those fancy clothes of yours." Her teeth flashed in the dim light of the lantern hanging from the ceiling "Or is the Monkey Princess ashamed of her body?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 19:52:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Just like that?"<br><br>SuLan grinned and reached for her sash, undoing it slowly...followed by her tunic, then the thin linen undertunic she wore to prevent chafing...<br><br>"Silly big-nosed round-eyes, always in a hurry," she teased quietly, eyes twinkling.<br><br>Later, much later...<br><br>The rest of the gang was easy, almost anticlimactic.&nbsp; Once they realized that the titanspawn whose mindless brutality had given them an edge was so much worm food, they'd folded pretty fast.&nbsp; One or two even managed to get away from the sudden onslaught of two sword-bearing women ambushing them from the depths of their own hideout, and they spread the word in their own way.&nbsp; (By the time either one reached civilization, half-crazed with hunger and thirst and brains baked by the sun, their tale of avenging angels rising up out of the earth itself to smite the wicked sounded more delusion than truth.&nbsp; Tall tales have a way of growing on their own, and soon enough those who knew what to listen for learned of the two tricksters.)<br><br>As for the two women who caused all the uproar?&nbsp; They moved on...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>11-06-2009, 21:18:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>New Orleans: {Alex and Kate}</strong><br>The scent of Jasmine on Alex's skin is enticing, and I notice the faint feminine musk underneath, the clean scent of femininity and gentility mingled up in one intoxicating perfume.&nbsp; <br><br>Something in how Alex fingers that golden chain tugs at my mind as she glides along my shoulder and brazenly lets her delicate hands trace my hip, the swell of my bottom firm against the rough denim.&nbsp; My breath catches at the sensation of a gentle touch; it's a good feeling, and a rare feeling, and I find myself craving more.&nbsp; <br><br>The rush of water she tips into the tub is still steaming, mingles with the cooler water to a blood-warm bath.&nbsp; The smell of anise and sandalwood-- I've smelled them somewhere, maybe here in the city-- fills the air as she adds oils to the water, and I watch in a semi-trance as her lovely, ivory fingers stir the water with soft, musical tones.&nbsp; The water smells almost spicy now, and for a moment I feel like I'm spicing my skin to be devoured.&nbsp; Well... maybe I am, at that.&nbsp; <br><br>I don't take offense at the name.&nbsp; "Kate's fine by me," I say, aware of my voice like one hearing an echo from far away, and I think how coarse and full of want that it must sound.&nbsp; I open the last button with a soft pop and let the cotton shirt pool on the floor.&nbsp; The breeze through the narrow window in the masonry wall tingles my skin, makes the rosy-red nipples and small, youthful aureoles perk up more in response.&nbsp; My breasts aren't large, but their subtle shape tilts slightly up, and my stomach and shoulders and arms are lean and sinewy.&nbsp; <br><br>Alex rests a stout little pistol in the pocket of her robe, then lets me look her over in the filmy undergarment she wears.&nbsp; "Never been with a woman?" I say, giving the hips of my jeans a light tug.&nbsp; They slink down my thighs to the floor, and I'm completely naked in the full light of the oil lamp, my pale gold legs long and slim, between my legs shows a small, wispy nest of soft, fine hairs like a raven's down.&nbsp; "Well, I don't know who gave you these rules, Alex."&nbsp; She steps out of the slippers and I straddle my way into the tub, aware that as my legs part, the little lips of my sex can be seen in silhouette like a soft, firm-lipped pout.&nbsp; "But I think it's time you broke that one."<br><br>I ease down, my hands on the ornate gunwhales of the tub and ease myself into the water.&nbsp; When she carries the bowl of shampoo closer, I watch her.&nbsp; I must look hungry as a one-eyed wolf for what I see.&nbsp; I tip my head in a gentle toss to lay my black hair along one shoulder.&nbsp; "Please do.&nbsp; But... you don't want to get that chemise all wet, do you?"&nbsp; My mouth set in a slow-spreading smile, I tip my head to her, silently indiicating where to stand.&nbsp; "You can wash my hair just as well in here with me."<br><br>Ordinarily, I'm not so bold.&nbsp; But, then again, I can't rightly say if I've ever seen a woman this lovely.&nbsp; And she can see how much she's affecting me. Bodies don't lie... and I think about that chain at her neck again.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>14-06-2009, 21:51:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>New Orleans {Alex and Kate}</strong><br><br><span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font">My lips curve in a smile, as I set the small bowl of shampoo on the bath table, right beside the shining silver colt. Reaching down to lift the hem of the chemise up slowly revealing my skin and shape for Kate to see. I know I have a fair skin, barely a hint of tan even after all those days in the desert, porcelain they called it with a healthy peach tone. It is clear I am a natural blonde from the tiny patch of pubic hair, and that I take pains to keep myself trimmed. I know I am a bit vane, my stomach flat and toned, as I lift the chemise. I have full breasts, large on my slim frame, round and uplifted by the hard pink nipples. With a wiggle I pull the silk past my hair letting the hair fall free. Tossing the chemise on top of Kate’s cloths, I lift myself up and over into the bath, letting Kate see me naked, save for the golden chain at my neck, a beautiful gold cat’s head ring on my right middle finger and, strange to her I am sure, the silver ring around my left middle toe.<br><br>Settling myself down between Kate’s thighs I pull a wash cloth from the table and some scented soap. <em>“Relax Kate I am sure it’s been some time since you had a real bath. Let me help.”</em><br><br>This close I can see the tiny lines of hardship by the eye patch Kate wears. I know what that can be like.<em> “Yes Kate I am stronger for what happened to me as are you. What we have had done to us, forged us both. That is in the past. Let’s concern ourselves with the now”</em><br><br>I slide forward a bit as my hands begin washing over her body. My nipples grazing against her own and send a pleasure along my body and concentrates between my thighs.</span>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>15-06-2009, 20:07:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As Alex lifts that chemise over her head, my hands clench onto the high sides of the tub and my breath seems to catch in my throat, like something's trying to take it from me.&nbsp; I study every detail of her with my one visible eye, and my lips part to a soft little 'o' as I study her.&nbsp; That soft little tuft of flaxen hair , the womanly curves of firm legs, hips, thighs-- that narrowing waist and healthy, firm breasts... she is an absolutely lovely thing, the kind of beautiful, and naturally so, I've seen so rarely and touched so little in my life.&nbsp; It unsettles me, she's so lovely, like nothing could be that tempting and be all good.&nbsp; I'm naked, my body running with the same kind of resilient, immortal blood as hers must be that sings for what she has.&nbsp; I'm aroused to the point that even a blind man could tell it, but still somehow my guard is trying to come up. <br><br>The water sounds softly as she settles into the warm bath, and I answer her comment about my bath with a wry smile, not seeming the least insulted.&nbsp; "Been a while since I had a bath quite like this... that's for sure..."&nbsp; As she eases closer, one of my knees draws up in a strange mix of defensiveness and exposure-- I'm not holding her off, I'm inviting her in closer, giving her a place to recline along my thighs.&nbsp; If she's really never been with a woman, I intend to make it more than memorable.&nbsp; And I intend to enjoy it.<br><br>The suds of the washcloth form clear bubbles and whispy webs of foamy white that, in contrast, makes my skin look darker, especially to Alex's alabaster complexion.&nbsp; I'm breathing again, steady and deep like a horse readying to run.&nbsp; The young woman's skin elicits an ache in me, and when her nipples brush against my breast, light and gentle against my own, there's something that feels like electricity in my skin.&nbsp; For a moment I let her wash me, let that aching need in my sex swell and throb at her touch that roams over me.&nbsp; I straighten to expose more of my body, let her wash across the slim, hard abdomen, the smallish breasts that ache for her attention and-- when the soapy, wet cloth grazes smoothly over them, I let out a long, steady sight.&nbsp; <br><br>Steady-handed, I reach and slide the patch from my eye.&nbsp; The silver orb beneath glimmers, as natural as the other eye, though its gleam is alien next to its living counterpart. "Indeed.&nbsp; And this <i>is</i> the now..."&nbsp; I rise somewhat, water pouring off me in a rapid cascade and for a moment I'm looking down at her.&nbsp; It's a nice feeling, being tall, though she and I are really the same height.&nbsp; I blink once, the silver eye for a moment exactly the same as the living one, except the faint scars, and I settle along&nbsp; her body, easing back down into the tub, with my arms outstretched and draped over her shoulders, crossing at the forearms.&nbsp; The water on my skin, and the water we're sitting in, makes out bodies glide in a smooth caress as I settle along her, my mouth framing hers in a kiss, my lips parting very gently and my mouth working hungrily over hers.<br><br>What I need is is to bring out that honey-sweet voice of hers.&nbsp; Letting those slender fingers wash me is sweet.&nbsp; I want more of that... but now there's no way of taking one desire in stride with all the others that are flooding up in me.<br><br>The water splashes softly as I pivot and press myself along her body, arching my back to grind my breasts into her as my mouth works at her full lips, insistent and laden with need.&nbsp; One hand entwines in that spun-gold hair and grips it-- not tugging.&nbsp; &nbsp;Not yet.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Spider</strong> on <strong>16-06-2009, 00:54:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Name: Logan Laufey<br>Scion: Loki<br>Calling: Gambler extraordinary<br><br><br>Str: 2<br>Dex: 4<br>Stm: 3<br><br>Char:3<br>Mani: 4<br>App: 4<br><br>Per: 2<br>Int: 2<br>Wits: 3<br><br>Animal Ken 1<br>Athletics 2<br>Awerness 3<br>xBrawl 3<br>xEmpathy 3<br>Fortitude 3<br>Integrity 3<br>xLarceny 4<br>Marksmanship 3<br>Presence 4<br>xStealth 4<br>Survival 2<br><br>Willpower 6<br><br>Epic Manipulation 2 Gods Honest, Takes on to Know one<br>Epic Dexterity 2 Trick Shot, Untouchable<br>Epic Wits 1&nbsp; Social Chameleon<br><br>Boons<br>Chaos: Hornets Nest 2<br>Illusion: The Subtle Knife 1, Stolen Face 2<br>Magic: Adriannes Thread 1, Bona Fortuna 2<br><br>Relics<br>1 Dice&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Magic<br>2 Monocle&nbsp; Chaos, Illusion<br>3 Gun - Lokasenna +2 Accuracy +1 Speed<br><br>Legend 3<br><br>Virtues:<br>Courage 2<br>Endurance 4<br>Expression 2<br>Loyalty 1<br><br>EQ: Derringer, Several Card Decks, Aces up sleeves, Loaded Dice, Regular Dice, fancy bowl hat made in France<br><br>On a rare occation when Loki managed to slip from his usual babysitters, he took a trip to Midgard to stretch his legs some and enjoy his newly won yet knowingly short freedom. His outing took him to the worse parts of Boston. A steamy night at a highclass brothel later resulted in a son, his watchers however found him much later harassing some Scions in a park.<br><br>Logan was born 9 month later, his mother a young but relatively well off prostitute, raised him in the brothel along with the other ladies of the night, the madame approved and took him under her wing as well. As soon as he was old enough to work, he started running errands, helping out in the kitchen and what other tasks his mother and 8 stepmothers could busy him with while they worked. He was a bright young boy though had a habit of pulling pranks on the customers, his boyish charms and innocent blue eyes melted his mother and stepmothers hearts everytime they tried to punish him... usually he just got away with abit of spanking.<br>He grew up into a fine young man, he learned how to live the streets on Bostons lesser sides. Gambling had become somewhat of a passion for him, Poker his favorite game, as noone could see through his bluffs. One game though changed his life, 1000$ laid on the table he a straight flush and he was suckering the man opposite him to put even more money into the pot... more money then he had ever seen in his life. The call was made and the cards were on the table, a flush against a Royal Straight Flush, Logan was devastated he couldnt believe that he had lost.<br>&nbsp;<br>&nbsp; After the game however the man approached him... It was Loki himself, he told him everything, explained he was his son and showing him what it was to be a Scion, he gave him the money, a gun named Lokasenna, a monocle, and a set of dice, telling him they will help him in his travels which he must take, then he leaves dissapearing before Logan can ask any more questions. Logan decides to follow his newfound fathers advice gives a part of the sum to his mother, packs what little things he can and gets on the train heading west.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>16-06-2009, 17:41:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><strong>New Orleans {Alex and Kate}</strong><br><br><span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font">Looking Up into the silver eye as well as the real one, my lips curl in an inviting smile. I can see in them both, her enjoyment of looking down at me. A look I have seen before and have used myself. As she lowers to press her lips to mine, I tense for a heartbeat at the fire and passion held so in check.<br>Parting my lips my tongue draws hers into my mouth as they intertwine and dancing, dueling I feel Kate’s hunger and need. I have learned to understand many things about life and passion and pleasure over the last few years. I can feel Kate’s need to be in control, as if it burns in her, she seldom has not been in control and those times scared her. <br><br>I arch and press along her body as I free a leg and bring it across her back to fit my heel into the base of her spine. Small gasps escape my lips as I feel her press her hips against mine and then start and squirm as she rubs her sex against my own. It’s a feeling I had not had before, sending pleasure all along my skin. A tingle that makes my nipples harden even more.&nbsp; By now the floor of the room is wet with the water we have spilled as we shift in the tub. The heady scents the dim light, the soft sounds of the city drifting in all add to the erotic and lust filled air.<br><br>My hands guide her against me. Caressing her sides then gripping here tight firm ass.<br>Her fingers in my hair hold me in that kiss. The one that seems to go on and on, trading the fire in each of us, letting it build as our bodies press. Finally I have to break it to gasp in air, Kate’s demanding lips kissing my neck as she also breaths deep. <br><br>My own fingers intertwine in her raven hair, as I nibble on her ear and whisper, <em>“Now! Yes show me what you desire and need Kate. This Night I belong to you”</em></span><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>17-06-2009, 01:19:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>New Orleans continued.</strong><br><br>My breath comes in deep, hungry sighs like the billows of a furnace in me, and from the heat between my thighs that's about how it feels.&nbsp; Alex has been delightfully receptive, and the feel of those full, firm breasts against me, of that smooth-skinned leg wrapped around my waist.&nbsp; My pelvis grinds against where she's braced, and I can feel that sensitive flesh of her open, hungry sex against where my pubic hair covers the tender flesh, and by instinct I'm grinding up into her, then lifting one knee to press there at the crook of her sex.&nbsp; I do this gently so I don't hurt her, but then I press harder, drawing my thigh along her soft, full lips like a bow to a violin.&nbsp; Doing so, I press her against the side of the tub, lift her just a bit.&nbsp; <br><br>Doing this, I can't really help myself.&nbsp; I'm consumed by the need to taste her and feel her climax.&nbsp; Her breath tickles my ear, and I realize that I'm kissing her neck, nestled into that jasmine-smelling blond silk and that my teeth are tugging at her earlobe.&nbsp; I release it, lick it and open my mouth for a slow-closing kiss at the base of her ear as my fingers work deeper into her hair, tugging at it as if to expose more of her.&nbsp; I quit steadying myself on the tub and I'm taking her... I don't want to hurt her, I'm not really hurting her.&nbsp; But god, I realize, I'm close, and I could.<br><br>Sometimes even the tenderest lust gives way to need.<br><br>By taking her, I mean I'm accepting her invitation.&nbsp; I'm taking control, and my hand's between her thighs and stroking along that smooth, damp seam of her sex, feeling the contrast between the dampness on the outside in those sweet little blond curls, all dark with the bath now, and with the dampness <i>between</i> those lips, the slick moisture of a healthy, eager sex, fragrant and clean like a warm, fine oil.&nbsp; <br><br>My hand cups her sex and my middle finger glides over her entrance, between the outer folds, and my palm presses the little pearl of her clit in a smooth caress.&nbsp; My middle finger draws back and I thrust my hand hard along the fork of her legs to cup her ass, to squeeze it from between her legs as I savor the healthy swell of her girlish flesh.&nbsp; "Tonight," I manage against her shoulder, and as I speak my mouth hangs open like a panting dog's and hovers over one pink rosebud nipple, "you do."&nbsp; I close my lips over that peaked, tender flesh, hardened with desire and sensation.&nbsp; I work the breast, and god it's fine to feel and taste her skin like this.&nbsp; So fine I tug harder, not meaning to, pulling the nape of her hair back so her back arches and that breast's thrust into my mouth.&nbsp; <br><br>I break the kiss, staring down with both eyes wide at the pale, lovely creature beneath me. I feel like some kind of demon's taken me over, like there's something in me going wrong that I can only right by riding it out.<br><br>I heave myself upright and stare down at her, my hands moving to my shoulders as I stare.&nbsp; Then I let them slide, slowly, down over my shoulders to my breasts-- the upturned swells of flesh ache as I stroke them, draw my fingers down them, and then splay over my belly and lower.&nbsp; I watch, one eye pale, one eye glistening silver, and touch myself between my legs, cupping my sex and squeezing it.&nbsp; I release it, my hair's spilling over my shoulder and clinging my my shoulder in wet ropes.&nbsp; "Get up..."&nbsp; I'm watching myself from a distance now, it's like I can see both of us at once, me standing with my shoulders heaving heavy, lusty breaths that make my small breasts almost bounce, the lovely girl splayed against the back of the tub.&nbsp; With more civility-- less hungry lioness-- I manage to continue.&nbsp; "Get up and show me how you like it."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>17-06-2009, 21:20:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>New Orleans {Kate and Alex}</strong><br><br><span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font">I can feel the power in Kate as if a damn has broken in her, rising in need, a current that is carrying both of us along. The heat against my skin feels as if it could burn me up, as her lips trail along my flesh. My thighs open wider as she presses hers into my sex, spreading the lips and grinding against my groin. It’s awkward as I feel lifted by the knee and how Kate’s hands roam my body. <em>“OHH OHH”</em> my gasps sound loud in the room as that knee presses harder into me spreading me open.<br>I can feel her need to take control, as if something long denied in her has suddenly woken, raging in need and with a terrible fire. One we both now have to ride out. I start, as her finger traces my lower lips then darts between them. I can feel my sex squeezing tight along the finger till she tugs it out. <br><br><em>“OhhAAHHH YESssss”</em><br><br>I can hear how ragged and inflamed Kate’s voice is as she claims me for the night, a voice full of need and desire then her lips and teeth tug on my sensitive nipple, as her fingers trace along my sex then tease my clit making me arch into her as she tugs my hair. My breast presses against her face and lips as she suckles and tugs on my nipple, sending electric arcs of pleasure through my body. The pleasure of her lips on my nipple and the light pain of the teeth tugging it as she suckles it, the feeling much different than a man’s would be.<br><br><em>“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH YESSSS OHH KATEEeeeeeEEEE”</em><br><br>The flash of pleasure and pain sends me soaring as Kate’s pulls the nape of my hair making me arch so under her, lifting her as my hands grab the sides of the tub.<br><br>I watch Kate stand, the water glistening as its rolls down her skin, the dim light of the room making her half shadowed save for the gleaming silver eye and the natural one as well. Looking up, I can see how in control she has been, how long she has kept it chained and buried. I give her a soft smile at her words than I shift to kneel in front of her, my knees as wide as possible in the tub. Leaning to lick her thigh nibbling along it till I find the fold of her sex hidden within the short curly hair, I just do what I like and my tongue flicks over her clit as my hands squeeze her ass.</span><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>18-06-2009, 08:19:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				My back arches and I let out a breath as her mouth finds my thighs, and when she grips my ass I feel like something just electrified my sex, like a little ribbon of lightning is coursing back between my ass and where her tongue comes to rest... my clit's firmed up, peeking just the tiniest bit from my sex and as I look down at that beautiful, creamy-skinned body as she kneels in front of me, I can see my own body-- no belly, small feet on the soft floor, out of focus my breasts like a couple of symmetrical mounds in the butter-tub.&nbsp; I must be wet, for when her tongue flicks out along my clit I can hear the moisture flicking against her tongue and my sensitive flesh.<br><br>The groan I hear is coming from my throat.&nbsp; I let her continue.&nbsp; I stroke her hair, tender like I'm dolling her up, then I grip it and steady myself as my breasts bounce lightly with my deep, shuddering gasps.&nbsp; "Y... yes, that's it..."&nbsp; I think of how I must taste... I've tasted myself on a girl's mouth before, tasted myself on my fingers.&nbsp; It's a little like the sweetwater you can sometimes get in the prairie, but that's so hard to find nowadays-- like a little tinge of lavender and honeysuckle in the clean taste of water.&nbsp; "Just... like you... like."&nbsp; My mouth works in breaths that are almost crying aloud, that will be soon.&nbsp; My ass tenses under her fingers and relaxes, and I grind into her mouth's attention.&nbsp; <br><br>I let her do this, I encourage her and tease her with gentle tugs, or caresses, in her hair.&nbsp; She does wonderfully, and it's not long before I start getting close.&nbsp; I almost think that her first time with a girl, she should be the one coming first.&nbsp; But somehow this seems right.&nbsp; Maybe because the goddess taught me to go down before she did for me.&nbsp; Almost like she wanted to show me I could do it without being controlled. <br><br>I control my breath enough to speak, "There's a girl..." and I come.&nbsp; Not more than a minute after her tongue hits me, fuck if I don't, my body goes tense and I almost fall over.&nbsp; If she didn't get a good stable base on her knees, I'd have taken us both to the ground, but I've always had balance.&nbsp; So my skin, though just a tad darker than hers, flushes at my thighs and breasts and face to a dusky pink as the currents wrack my body.&nbsp; My cries aren't silent any more; the breaths are vocalized with a high, girlish cry of pleasure and surprise and I slick with the climax.&nbsp; She can feel my muscles clenching, I'm sure, as I press hard into her ministrations, and when I'm done coming I tug her up by her hair. <br><br>Goddess, why would I treat her so rough?&nbsp; Is it because she's just so damn pretty I can't help myself, or is it that maybe I can sense she likes it?&nbsp; I'd like to think it's the latter, but I really can't be sure how she feels... can I?<br><br>"Not bad," I murmur against her skin as I smile my feral, hungry grin, "for a girl who's never done that before..." and I kiss her again, bolder and harder than before and sharing the taste of my sex still on her tongue.&nbsp; Both hands cup her breasts, then glide around to her flank as my body presses to hers for the fullness of that kiss.&nbsp; I break it to stoop for her chemise, and I must grin like I'm half crazy as I paint my way down her collar and breast with my tongue.&nbsp; I pause on my way to encircle her breast with my mouth again, kisses that spiral around the nipple teasingly before my tongue flicks out, ticking the tip and retreating.&nbsp; When I rise, it's with just the sash of the chemise... just the sash, thin and pretty, delicate cloth, but tough enough against a pull either way to serve what I've got in mind.<br><br>My eyes lock with hers, we're so close to the same height, and I press our foreheads together as I meet her gaze.&nbsp; Her full breasts and mine rub together as I pant softly for breath still.&nbsp; I want to speak, to tell her that I understand how, sometimes, what we want in the present is sometimes like the thing we had put upon us in the past... because that thing makes us, in a way, and by owning it we own our selves.&nbsp; But I choose to show her, instead, that I understand.<br><br>I gently take her hands and wrap them in the binding, asking her compliance with my eyes, not forcing.&nbsp; She's been so understanding that I expect she'll continue to be.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>18-06-2009, 20:44:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>New Orleans {continued}</strong><br><br><span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font">My tongue flicked Kate’s clit, teasing it and curling under the hood then it darted into the hot depths fluttering around the sides as my hands kneaded her firm ass.<br><br>The taste is very nice, sweet, and different as I feel her tremble and almost fall. My hands on her ass hold her against my lips as she keeps her balance.<br><br>The hands in my hair tug me up, as I slide along her body. Her lips hungrily press to mine as our tongues duel and dance letting Kate taste her own sweetness in my mouth. The hands on my breasts squeeze and knead, fingers pinch my nipples making me gasp and moan into Kate’s hungry mouth, pressing against her as her hands begin roaming my flesh. <em>“Yesss like ThataaHH”</em>Her Tongue feels like liquid fire as it traces down my neck, over my breast then licking around the nipple. I tremble from the sensation, pleasure and giving in all mixing as Kate bends then slowly stands.<br><br>I can see her eyes both the silver and natural one as she leans her forehead against mine. Something in them with a dawning awareness, not only of us but of the past, even a bit scared even now. It’s as if she had for so long denied things, buried them and finally she could see them. As she loops the belt around my wrists, I lift them giving her better access and telling her without words that I accept. My lips curve in a smile as I can see her eyes widen a bit that I seem to understand her better then perhaps she does herself.<br><br>My voice is soft, sensual, honey sweet as I whisper. <em>“I am yours this night, mistress”</em></span>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>20-06-2009, 03:37:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I've never been called "mistress" before, and I think at first that I'm not sure how to respond.&nbsp; I don't, for just a moment, and instead watch her eyes as I cinch the simple draw-knot, then cinch it a bit tighter.&nbsp; I take a step backward, pivot a step, my movements slow and languid.&nbsp; I like having her controlled like this, and I like that she's liking it.&nbsp; I love that half-melted feeling from inside my lower belly and the glimmer in her eyes as I ease her along.&nbsp; <br><br>My fingers trail down her body-- just the tips, my clean, short nails trailing white lines along white skin as I explore her breasts, the smooth slope of her belly, the wispy hair of her sex.&nbsp; We reach the bed, and with the slightest of tugs I urge her onto the bed, and watch as her curtain of blond hair spills over the frilled ivory pillow, followed by her naked skin.&nbsp; I lean over her and meet her there on the pillow with a fiery, insistent kiss as I stretch her arms over her head.&nbsp; <br><br>Kisses trail over her collar and breast like the feather-strokes of an artist's brush before I pause, inches from her nipple, and draw back teasingly.&nbsp; I drink her in with my eyes and sigh out a deep breath of lusty satisfaction at how prettily her breasts lift and settle, what with her slender, pale arms stretched over her head... as I wind the cord on itself through the brass rails of the bed, my own trim leg straddles her and I settle my weight onto my knees astride her thighs.<br><br>I cinch the knot tighter, letting the soft cord dimple her supple flesh-- in doing so, my breasts brush along her cheek, and as I finish I let myself collapse atop her.&nbsp; Not smothering her, I'm rather rolling my body along her face, letting my firm, girlish breasts caress her cheeks before my mouth follows.&nbsp; I glide along her body and work my way down, my straddling thighs letting me grind the damp and hungry crook of my thighs grind over her hip and her thigh.<br><br>Then, satisfied that she's tied and having enjoyed the sight of her so trussed and presented for inspection, I perch atop her with my shoulders back, my breasts thrust out and rising and falling with deep, hungry breaths.&nbsp; My mismatched eyes study her, savor her.&nbsp; "Say that again..." and my hands slide from her palms up the inside of her forearms and higher, then down her flanks to her hipbones like I'm tracing her form in the sand.&nbsp; <br><br>"Say it again and again..." and I glide my hands over that honey-haired mound and over her abdomen, cupping the breasts and kneading them hungrily as I dip my face and my thighs splay wide.&nbsp; In a graceful sort of bow, I supplicate myself in gesture alone and as my hands cup her breasts, kneading and rolling over them, my mouth meets her sex and I let my tongue glide from the bottom to the top, parting the dewy slit of her body and savoring her taste in a luxurious swipe.<br><br>The slow, strong caress of my tongue hangs for just a moment at the bead of her clit, lifting it until the clit pops free and I exhale a hot breath through my mouth along that sensitive peak-- hovering-- waiting.&nbsp; Waiting, my eyes focused up the plane of her body intently, watching her face as my fingertips perch at her nipples, giving them a subtle, tender tug.&nbsp; <br><br>I wait a moment longer than I think I can stand, letting her squirm, and then delve between her thighs with enthusiasm, my tongue stretched and working in steady, smooth and strong laps from the core of her to the peak.&nbsp; My voice is a long, soft "mmmm" and my lips form it to delicate, wordless syllables as I work at Alex's cunt.&nbsp; I pause to stroke her thighs, to let my cheek graze the opening of her sex and to nip and her inner thigh, then lap rapidly with bobbing head at her sensitive apex again.&nbsp; <br><br>Steadiness is the key-- not speed, though it can be nice.&nbsp; This I know because I'm a woman too... what will feel best is the drawing out, like stoking tinder to flame.&nbsp; &nbsp;Build heat, add air, build more, add air then sparks become smoke and smoke becomes a glow.&nbsp; Too much at once drowns it, too little lets it fade.&nbsp; I can stoke the fire in her because it's like I can feel it myself.&nbsp; I have felt it myself.&nbsp; And when my tongue gives way to the sucking of her clit between my lips and my tongue flickers across it, I want her to know what it's like to have a woman do this for her, to know that a woman's intensity can be something entirely different and powerful.<br><br>I want her to come hard, and I want her to know it was me did this.&nbsp; And then I want more.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>20-06-2009, 17:41:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><br><span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font">The silk cloth tightens around my wrists as I watch Kate’s eyes, something in them different as if my words have stroked an ember of fire she had not known she had. Turning as Kate guides me to the bed, my footfalls graceful. I let my eyes take in her body, the lean muscles with almost no hint of softness, the small breasts and the hard so hard nipples that make those breasts stand proud on her chest. Long toned legs and a tight firm ass, and then I am pushed back onto the bed. My head pillowed in the soft pillows as Kate smiles then kisses me forcing me to respond to her kiss as she pushes my arms over my head.<br><br>I tense a bit as she binds my wrists to the brass rails of the headboard, then squirm as she kisses so soft along my neck to the edge of my breasts. I can feel the heat already building in me, the need that can overwhelm. The feeling as the cloth tightens more gives me the illusion of helplessness that at times I seem to enjoy. Flicking my tongue along her breasts as she leans over me and trying to nip her hard nipple…my timing exact so my teeth graze the tip.<br>Kate’s body as it moves along mine is feels so nice, her skin is rough in places from her time in the saddle and her hands feel callused but it all adds to the sensations.<br><br>Looking up into her face as she commands me my voice is husky and sensual, <em>“Mistress, I am yours”</em><br><br><em>“Mistress…mistress...mistress”</em> each time the word seems to ignite something deeper in Kate’s eyes, something until now she had not even known she had in her. Her hands on my breasts massaging them perfectly make me squirm, clearly helpless to resist anything she does. <br><br><em>“AHHH Mistressss YESss”</em> that tongue so hot and never had anyone did it that way. Arching and squirming as she used her tongue to build the fire in me.<br><br>I gave myself over to the feelings finally letting mistress guide me.<br><br><em>“NOO don’t stop mistressss aHHHHH aHHHH please don’t stOPPPPPP …MistresssssSSSS”</em><br></span><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>23-06-2009, 17:23:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She's like honey in my mouth, her tender flesh so willing and hot, and as she starts to grind back against me I give her more.&nbsp; Her voice becomes throaty and desperate with the need and lust, and my body responds in turn.&nbsp; I clench her thighs and steady her as I lap at her sex, my tongue dipping into her deeper and gliding out to the peak again and again, and again I hold back for long enough to suck her clit between my lips and to tug at it with my mouth's pressure as the tip of my tongue flutters at it.&nbsp; Her breasts bounce free for a moment, and I'm staring up at her body, at the spasmic movements of her body's ecstacy, before my left hand cups her breast again and kneads it against her ribs.&nbsp; The one who made her must have known how lovely she'd be, and how drawing her body to pleasure would be impossible to resist as breathing.<br><br>Baptiste returns to my mind.&nbsp; How lovely he was, and how different-- how every contour of his body was so utterly in contrast to this well-proportioned girl, that suerly he was made the same way she was-- changed to be more than human, like a machine made for sex or killing or both.&nbsp; It's funny how one can be so like the other.<br><br>There in the oil light, her body's glistening and ready, and the jasmine scente and sweet liquor of her sex are delicious.&nbsp; My right hand barely slides under my chin with enough give to feel her out, to slip two fingers inside her.&nbsp; I position myself higher on her and lap at her clit while my shot-nailed fingers delve within her, curling in a 'come hither' up inside her.&nbsp; I can feel it myself, the same way she would, in my mind.&nbsp; I want her to know that satisfaction before I start to push the envelope further... somehow, I think again on the gold chain around her neck, twinkling there like a mist of golden stars on her ivory skin.&nbsp; It's sacred to her, I think.&nbsp; But it reminds her of something, too.&nbsp; Like some kind of collar, maybe.&nbsp; But not one she simply fears... one that she fears in that way that makes the body respond with need.&nbsp; &nbsp;... am I guessing wrong, or can I take her over the edge like that..?&nbsp; I think I want to.&nbsp; And I'm going to take that risk, I realize... I'm going to let out the beast in me because I think the beast in her needs it.<br><br>I finger her harder, steadily drawing my hand back and forth like sawing a board, lapping at the wet sex she offers me freely.&nbsp; Amid the sounds of our breathing-- mine is panting, and hers is coming in that sweet cacauphany of sexual throes-- the sound of my lapping at her wet sex and the slippery friction of my hand in her can be heard, as can the soft squeaks of the springs and the little creaks of the brass bedrails along the wood floor.&nbsp; My mouth leaves her sex for the briefest moment so I can speak.&nbsp; I have to swallow first, and my full lips are glistening with her sex. "Be a good girl and come for me."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>25-06-2009, 21:18:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font"><em>“AAAaaaHHH OHHHH GODDDESSSSSS !!!”</em><br><br>My voice half screams, half moans as I squirm under the attentions of the other woman. My feet slide up along her body so I can lift my hips against that teasing hot terrible, delicious tongue that pushes me and builds the fire in me. <br><br>The pleasure makes it at time hard to breath to I gasp in air as I can. My eyes go wide as I feel the fingers thrust in me and my muscles grip them tightly, she might even be able to tell how well trained I am there how it could feel as I gripped a man like that.<br><br>My eyes flick to the door as it partly opens and the concerned face of John listens, my half scream must have made him wonder then I see his lips curl and the door close as I arch again. Ready so close so very close to exploding, it feels as if a volcano in me is ready building needing release.<br><br><em>“OHHHh Kate pleaseeeee”</em><br><br>I feel my body explode as I tense and tremble, my pussy gripping the fingers tightly. It feels as if a fire chased through me, a tension that for the instant made my ears ring and head seem to explode. I gasp and tremble in an orgasm unlike any I had felt before.<br><br>My voice is barely audible as I moan ... <em>"mistresss"</em> </span><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>01-07-2009, 04:12:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Mistress.&nbsp; I find myself smiling at the phrase, and certainly my lady's blood singing in my veins at this moment is laughing with the delight of amour and afterglow mingled with energy and amusement.&nbsp; That smile lingers as Alex's young sexual viscera spasm with her climax.&nbsp; <br><br>I lap at the remains of her lubrication-- the sweet, clean moisture that lingers at the soft, healthy lips, the glistening pink pearl of her clit, the pale, soft down of her nether hairs.&nbsp; I slow as she slows, I ease as her climax eases.&nbsp; And when she's left there, stretched before me with her pert, pink-crested breasts rising and falling and shivering with spent breath, I let her catch her breath.&nbsp; <br><br>I sit up, shoulders back, astride her leg.&nbsp; My body is long and lean, pale gold like milk-tinged honey.&nbsp; I&nbsp; can watch her now with some satisfaction, without the self-consciousness or the pretense of before.&nbsp; She can see every inch of me for all she likes, and I can do the same to her.&nbsp; <br><br>I stand, stretch, look her over like a carpenter appraising fresh-hewed wood, finding it flawless yet needing again to see it.&nbsp; Words would cheapen that moment, mute what I am about to do.<br><br>I turn, walk a step to the door, stretch my hand and lift my hat from the hook by the casement.&nbsp; I put it on, smirking, and turn to walk a semicircle to where the girl's tied.&nbsp; Alex is able to see me as I walk, tiptoe, around.&nbsp; My breasts, smallish, don't even bounce as I move closer.&nbsp; I straighten the hat, crossing my feet as I walk in a show of languid grace.&nbsp; One hand lingers on the brim, while the other deftly looses the tie of my hatband.&nbsp; &nbsp;It's simple, tiny beads of silver and turquoise chips from the New Mexico territories, black woven like arrowheads.&nbsp; The cord's black leather, trails a few extra inches, and unties easily enough.<br><br>With it trailing from my fingers, I lean into the wall by the headboard and reach for the oil lamp.&nbsp; I hadn't bothered to dim it before, happy for its light by which to study the girl's form.&nbsp; Now, my mood's changed... but not the hunger.&nbsp; <br><br>I untie her wrists, for the moment, from the headboard, and gesture for her to present her throat-- my short-nailed fingers trailing from her windpipe down to her clavicle like the slow ranging of a lone bird combing the snow.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Scion - The Weird West] Character Sheets, Back story and Flashbacks</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ReijiTabibito</strong> on <strong>29-07-2009, 21:48:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Presenting the newest character of the Band...<br><br>Character Name: Han Shen&nbsp; (Family Name / Given Name)<br><br>Calling: Sly Crusader<br><br>Nature: Gallant<br><br>Pantheon / God: Celestial Bureaucracy / Huang Di<br><br>Attributes (• = Mundane / * = Epic)<br><br>Physical <br>Strength&nbsp; ••<br>Dexterity •••• / **<br>Stamina ••• / *&nbsp; (Favored)<br><br>Social <br>Charisma&nbsp; ••<br>Manipulation&nbsp; ••• / *&nbsp; (Favored)<br>Appearance&nbsp; ••<br><br>Mental <br>Perception ••• / *<br>Intelligence&nbsp; ••••• / ** (Favored)<br>Wits •••<br><br>Knacks<br><br>Dexterity: Untouchable Opponent, Omnidexterity<br><br>Stamina: Self-Healing<br><br>Manipulation: Takes One to Know One<br><br>Perception: Fool Me Once…, Scent the Divine (Given to all Players by GM)<br><br>Intelligence: Axiom, Fight With Your Head<br><br>Abilities<br><br>Academics ••••&nbsp; (Favored)<br>Athletics ••<br>Awareness •••&nbsp; (Favored)<br>Brawl •<br>Control (Horse) ••<br>Empathy ••<br>Fortitude ••<br>Integrity •• (Favored)<br>Investigation ••<br>Marksmanship •<br>Medicine ••<br>Melee ••• (Favored)<br>Occult ••<br>Politics • (Favored)<br>Presence •<br>Survival •<br><br>Virtues<br><br>Intellect ••••<br>Loyalty (in place of Harmony) •<br>Order (in place of Duty) •<br>Valor •••<br><br>Boons<br><br>Assess Health (Health •)<br>Judgment (Justice •)<br>Five-Cycle Augmentation, Yin-Yang Destruction (Taiyi ••)<br><br>Willpower: •••••••&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Legend: •••&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Legend Points: 9<br><br>Birthrights:<br><br>Relic (Magistrate’s Seal – Justice, Mystery) 2 <br>Relic (Copy of Neijing Suwen – Health) 1<br>Relic (Ear Cuffs – Add Legend to PER+AWARENESS, PER+EMPATHY) 2<br>Relic (Dao - +2L, -1 SPD) 3&nbsp; (Khopesh)<br>Relic (Revolver – Infinite Ammuntion, -1 SPD) 2 (Fan Created Single-Action .357)<br><br>Bonus Point Expenditures:<br><br>+1 Legend: 7 points<br>+1 E. Manipulation (Favored): 4 points<br>+5 Birthright: 5 points<br>+1 Favored Skill: 1 point<br><br>Total: 17 points<br><br>Dodge DV: 7 (+2 from Epic, Double for Untouchable Opponent)<br>Soak: 1A/3L/4B<br><br>Weapons:&nbsp; (SPD/ACC/DMG/PARRY DV/RNG)<br><br>Dao: 4 / 7 / 8L / 7 / -<br><br>Revolver 4 / 7 / 3L / - / 20<br><br>Brass Knuckles 4 / 6 / 4B / 5 / -<br><br>Appearance: Shen is a tall (for Chinese at least) 5’10”, with a slight figure that belies his actual stamina – he looks a lot like one of those prettyboys you could knock over with a punch, an underestimation he has used more than once to his advantage.&nbsp; Aside from his height, he is, more or less, an average Chinese male in his early twenties.<br><br>Personality: Shen is a complex figure – he is typically a light-hearted person, cracking witty one-liners (some of which draw groans) wherever he goes.&nbsp; He also has a bit of a lecherous streak, expressing what he calls “his appreciation for fine women” in both direct and indirect manners.&nbsp; These, however, mask his true character: a brilliant man on a mission, who brooks no idiocy, and tolerates no man that exploits others.&nbsp; Against his opponents (who, thus far, have been mortals backed by basic titanspawn – zombies and mummies), he displays a egocentric indignation against their exploitations.&nbsp; His favorite modus operandi is to ride into town, find out about whatever evil scheme is happening (if there is one) and who is at the end of it all, and confront them directly.&nbsp; He then issues a single warning, the words of said warning differ, but the ultimate message the same: “Stop now or be destroyed.”&nbsp; Unknown to his adversaries, he has already constructed a plan utilizing his Epic Intelligence and Epic Manipulation, and set the chain of events in motion with his warning.&nbsp; At the end of it all, either the law or the townspeople bring the criminals to justice, leaving Shen to ride off alone, back into the World.<br><br>Other Notes:<br>Shen is a master of the Xanatos Gambit (see TV Tropes), with the general brainpower and cunning to back it up.&nbsp; He can, however, hold his own in a fight against mortals.<br><br><br>Backstory and flashback of his most important case forthcoming.<br>
			</dd>
		</dl>
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