Great Forks...a bastion of decadence and addiction and pleasure in the Scavenger Lands. There's no other place where one can find the same things at the same price and in the same quantity. People from all over the world travel to the Scavenger Lands only to find what Great Forks produces. It is a city full of people that would rather not be seen, and yet make spectacles of themselves because they know that what happens in Great Forks...stays in Great Forks.
Unless, of course, I see it happening.
I don't have a proper name, really. I wasn't called anything but ‘boy’ until I turned eight, when a small little girl passing by pointed at my semi-prone form and exclaimed in a high pitched, whiny, obnoxious voice that I will never forget: “Look, look Father! It’s a Shady Eyes!” When the people surrounding the street corner heard that, I was finally named. Shady Eyes. I suppose it fits, especially back then, when my eyes were never covered and I had no real way of hiding the fact that I was drowsy constantly. You see, I have what many people would call an addictive personality--only it’s very selective. I’m only addicted to one thing: marijuana. We have some of the best here in Great Forks, and even when I was a small boy, barely six or seven, it was easy to get a hold of. All I needed to do was offer my services carrying some luggage or bag to some rich bitch walking down the street, who would in turn dump as many heavy bags as she could on my head, and I would proceed to empty her purse of anything of value that I could reasonably take without her throwing a hissy fit. Considering the amount of rich people--especially dynasts from the Realm...mmm, those were always the best to con--pass through or come to Great Forks, it was relatively easy to subsist.
Of course, subsisting isn’t enough in Great Forks, you need to be able to know your way around town. If you can’t find what you’re looking for in Great Forks, you had best try the Underworld or the Wyld, because you won’t find it in Creation. At least that what most people who like to promote this city say. I know for a fact that isn’t true--our marijuana isn’t even the best. The only reason I smoke is because I grow my own, right outside my small apartment. It hangs out my window like a weed. Anyway, tangents are for people who don’t know what they’re talking about...and I do know what I’m talking about. Mostly. From birth to age six I was a nice boy. I lived in a small house just outside Great Forks with my father. My mother died giving birth to me, but I’ve made...well, I made progress in that respects later in my life. I had a nice early childhood...well, apart from starving occassionally because my father didn’t get paid by the snobby bastards that employed him. He was a carpenter...and while I never officially followed in his footsteps, I’m quite good at what talent I did pick up from him. In any case, he died when I was six, and I found myself alone in a big, bad world. So I moved to Great Forks, and began my life as a street urchin.
It only took about two years for me to find the pleasure of getting high. Some of the other street rats had a packet of marijuana, and the older ones taught the youngest of us to roll it in paper. Our lungs suffered, sure, but it let the day pass faster, and gave us a sort of air of obliviousness. Many people thought we were dull witted and stupid because of the drug we so freely indulged in...heh, morons. There was no one wittier than us in Great Forks--at least not that we knew. We were always one step ahead of our ‘clientel’ (old people who we scammed) and three or four steps ahead of the law...the dullwitted morons. We grew up fast and moved through the city even faster. We learned the customs of the plethora of religions and survived by moving from one district to the next. By the time I was twelve I was one of the best street urchins in the city.
As we grew, we found ourselves meddling in more and more dangerous things, and even though we all continued being ‘friends,’ we drifted apart. By the time I was seventeen, I didn’t have any friends, only old acquiantances that I could call upon when I needed information or help. See, most of the guys ended up becoming something. Whether it was becoming a carpenter (like my father), or a carriage driver, or working at an inn keeping the people who came in ‘honest.’ I, on the other hand, continued doing nothing but what I had done most of my life: subsisting on the meager things that I could scrape from being an urchin. I had grown into a very fit young man (despite what most people may think, street urchins aren’t always subject to malnutrtion) and I was quite talented in many aspects. However, I wasn’t good enough. Especially compared to some of the more than human people that resided in Great Forks, like Inspector Rejia, the young Dragon-blooded that triggered what happened to me next...
I was twenty years old when it happened, and I was hungry as can be. Very, very hungry. I hadn’t eaten in at least two days, and I didn’t know how much longer I was going to last without some kind of nutrition. So when I saw the lights inside the townhouse and peeked inside to see a lavish dinner set up, I couldn’t help but drool, my lips pressed against the window as he stared at the food. I didn’t think, perhaps because I was desperate, perhaps because I thought myself special enough to escape whatever could feasibly happen to me. I don’t know, but for some reason, I simply walked to the door, picked the lock open, and stepped inside, sneaking towards the kitchen.
Even back then I was quite proficient at sneaking around and had an eye for detail, but I failed to notice, perhaps in my hunger, the amount of things around me that indicated that this was not the home of a common, every day person. While I ate, I missed the signs. The dragon paintings, the sculptures and the decorations.
Half way through my meal, I looked up to see the shocked face of the woman whose home I had intruded upon. It wasn’t a face I was ready to see. It was a soft, aquamarine hue, her eyes frozen over in disgust and anger. Before I could open my mouth, the well dressed--I can only guess what she was planning to do that night, but it was certainly intimate--Dragon-blooded shot forward with a fluid motion and sent a crackling bolt of ice at me. When it hit me, it froze my heart for an instance. It hurt so much I can still remember the pain whenever I think about it and touch my chest. The blast threw me straight through the window I had gaped through from outside, and I landed on my ass on the street with half a turkey leg shoved down my throat and the other half sticking out of my mouth. I was scared; so very, very scared. But I was angry, too. Very angry. She could at least have done something that hurt less! Why did she have to be so violent?!
She jumped down from the window and looked down at me, staring at my prone form with disgust and something that seemed like...a smile? She laughed at me as I picked myself up and shoved me. I fell again, and growled at her. “Sneer again and I’ll do more than shove you, kid,” she said, tilting her head to the side, long, flowing black hair slipping over her shoulder.
I decided I wasn’t going to be abused...not like I’d seen a lot of the officers from the Great Forks police do to others. I shot forth, and I could feel, inside me, something spark. Something burning within my soul. I shot my hand out and slammed my fist into her stomach, my hand trailing thin pieces of light, purple and white as I ripped my fist against her abdomen. She looked shocked as I watched her stumble back. I was shocked, too. My forehead hurt--not the type of hurt that you feel when your head aches, but the type you feel when a hot metal poker is pressed against your skin. I could feel it, the moonless night above me and my opponent, burning against my skin. I turned and ran, disappearing into the streets soon enough as the aura of power that surrounded me faded. I could hear her pummeling the street with her feet as she followed me, but I lost her. At least I thought I had.
It took her another day to find me...but when she did, she didn't attack me. Instead, she offered me something I had never been offered before in words or sentinment: friendship. She also offered me tutelage. That's how I learned what little she knew of what I was...that’s how I became what I am. She tutored me and taught me and offered her assistance when I had a problem. I grew very fond of her, like an older sister, almost. She didn’t see me as an Anathema or a Wretched, but as a person in need of help. She saw me as someone that she could help and that could help her in return. Then I lost her.
It was one of the darker ones...he was large and had a mask made of bone. His shoulders had shoulders and his muscles had muscles. He threatened us...and...we fought him. We fought him as much as we could. But in the end it wasn’t enough. He brought down his axe and he chopped her in half. Literally. I watched it happen. I saw the blade rip through her skin. I watched my mentor and only friend die...and then her murderer looked at me, a young Solar Exalted of the Night Caste, just coming into his powers, and laughed. He said words I will never forget: “I’ll be back for you when you are something.” Then he left. He disappeared. I couldn’t find him, no matter how hard I tried, I could not find him. So I wept.
I took Rejia’s body back to the city and she was given a proper funeral by those she loved. Most of the people that were there believed my story--they knew me through her, and knew that she trusted me...knew I could never harm her. Then I left. I left Great Forks and moved on to greener pasteurs. I traveled West and then South, and made my way through the luscious jungles of the Southeast, disappearing from civilization.
In my travels, I met a few people and acquired a few...things. Everywhere I went, however, I was detected as an Anathema. Anyone that looked could tell, for the Caste Mark I bore on my forehead when my Essence burned is carved into my skin, has been since that first night. But no matter what someone said of me, I am not an easy man to kill...and I always got away. I found my weapon of choice, I developed my Charms and learned how to hide what I was despite my less mundane flaws. Then I returned to Great Forks. I applied to become a police officer and I rose in the ranks (even though I was as lazy a bum as ever) and eventually became what I am today: the least likely person to ever become an inspector of the Great Forks police force.
What happens in Great Forks, stays in Great Forks. Unless I see it happening.
Concept: Police Inspector
Anima: Criss-crossing arrows behind him.
Physical: Strength 3, Dexterity 4, Stamina 3
Social: Charisma 2, Manipulation 3, Appearance 2
Mental: Perception 4, Intelligence 3, Wits 4
Dawn: *Archery 3 (Crossbow +2), *Brawl 3
Twilight: *Craft (Fletchery, Gardening) 2, *Investigation 3 (Crime Scenes +2), Lore 2, Occult 1
Zenith: Endurance 1, Performance 2, Resistance 1, Survival 1
Night: Athletics 1, Awareness 2, Dodge 2, Larceny 3 (Great Forks +2), Stealth 2
Eclipse: Bureaucracy 1, Linguistics (Riverspeak; Forest-tongue) 1, Ride 1, *Socialize 3
Backgrounds: Artifact 2, Contacts 2, Familiar 1, Resources 2
Virtues: Compassion 2, Conviction 3, Temperance 2, Valor 2
Health: -0, -1, -1, -1, -2, -2, -2, -2, -4, Inc.
Virtue Flaw: Heart of Flint
Limit Break: 0
Flaws: Vice (Marijuana) (1), Known Anathema (1), Permanent Caste Mark, Enemy (3)
|| Charm Name || Ability|| Cost || Duration || Type || Effects || |[ Wise Arrow |[ Archery |[ 1 mote per die |[ Instant |[ Supplemental |[ Dice adder to Archery rolls. || |[ Sensory Acuity Prana |[ Awareness |[ 5 motes |[ One Scene |[ Simple |[ Adds permanent Essence to all Awareness rolls. || |[ Ferocious Jab |[ Brawl |[ 1 mote |[ Instant |[ Supplemental |[ Doubles successes on a Brawl attack for the purposes of determining damage || |[ Flawless Handiwork Method |[ Craft |[ 3 motes per success |[ Instant |[ Supplemental |[ May buy extra successes on Craft rolls. || |[ Reed in the Wind |[ Dodge |[ 1 mote per 2 dice |[ Instant |[ Reflexive |[ Dice adder to Dodge rolls. || |[ Ox-Body Technique |[ Endurance |[ None |[ Permanent |[ Special |[ Adds one -1 and two -2 Health Levels. || |[ Crafty Observation Method |[ Investigation |[ 5 motes |[ Instant |[ Simple |[ Allows the character to reconstruct the physical occurrences of an event after observing the scene where it occured. || |[ Ten Magistrate Eyes |[ Investigation |[ 3 motes |[ One Scene |[ Supplemental |[ Add Essence in automatic successes to all Investigation rolls. || |[ Seasoned Criminal Method |[ Larceny |[ 10 motes |[ One Day |[ Simple |[ The character becomes preternaturally intuitive when it comes to criminal subcultures of a place or city, buyers, sellers, cops, and powerful people. || |[ Spirit-Detecting Glance |[ Occult |[ 3 motes |[ One Scene |[ Simple |[ Allows the character to perceive unmanifested and immaterial spirits. || |[ Mastery of Small Manners |[ Socialize |[ 3 motes |[ One Scene |[ Reflexive |[ Character gains knowledge and instincts of manners and customs necessary to be polite and fit into a particular situation. || |[ Graceful Crane Stance |[ Athletics |[ 3 motes |[ One Scene |[ Reflexive |[ The character no longer rolls Athletics, he can stand on a leaf and takes no falling damage. ||
http://www.geocities.com/seiraryu/tab.gif Artifact: Shady Eyes has in his possession a special crossbow made of Orichalcum. Being from the First Age, it possesses a few differences from the usual crossbows that can be found in Creation. While using it, he can use Extra Action Archery Charms (which are not usually accessible with crossbows) and he made fire specialized bolts that he himself crafts (such as bolts with grappling hooks and ropes on either end). The following stats are with the Orichalcum Magical Material bonus. Orichalcum Crossbow: Accuracy +2, Damage 7L, Rate 3, Range 175Seiraryu/TT>
http://www.geocities.com/seiraryu/tab.gif The crossbow must be reloaded every three shots, and takes a full turn to reload.
http://www.geocities.com/seiraryu/tab.gif Contacts: As a police inspector, Shady Eyes has to keep some sort of contact with the...well, shadier parts of Great Forks. An old acquiantance of his runs a tavern in the gambling district where a lot of lowlifes run to get away from the law. No matter how many of them he arrests there, they always end up showing up. Also, Barum (the tavern owner) is a well natured--if extremely fowl mouthed and rude--person who will provide him with information for the right price (which usually just happens to be a few joints or buying a drink). But Barum isn't the only one that he knows. On the opposite side of the coin, he knows one of the most widely connected spirits of Great Forks, a lascivious little thing that begs be called "Mistress Madalia." She's the goddess of Grapes and Wines in Great Forks, and oddly, one of the best people to talk to for information. She can hear the voices of all the drunkards who are under the influence of wine in the city...and that makes her a valuable source of information.
http://www.geocities.com/seiraryu/tab.gif Note: More to come on Mistress Madali when I finish creating her.
http://www.geocities.com/seiraryu/tab.gif Familiar: As he was returning from his travels, he defeated some poachers in the jungle that were attempting to catch a panic monkey. He nursed it back to health and, in jest towards the Immaculate Philosophy (which he finds hilarious more than anything) he named him Jextes Sylis, the Immaculate Monkey of Weed. Jextes enjoys smoking marijuana as much as the Solar, and Shady Eyes has no problem letting him, especially considering how it calms the paranoid little simian.
http://www.geocities.com/seiraryu/tab.gif Resources: As a police inspector, he receives an salary worthy of Resources 2.
Fist: Speed 8, Accuracy 8, Damage 3B, Defense 9, Rate 5
Kick: Speed 5, Accuracy 8, Damage 6B, Defense 4, Rate 3
Baton: Speed 12, Accuracy 8, Damage 9B, Defense 7, Rate 2
Crossbow: Speed 8, Accuracy 11, Damage 7*, Range 175, Rate 3
* Bolt Modifiers
Target: +0L (and halve armor soak)
8 for Graceful Crane Stance
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