Silver Sisters: A group of hardened female outlaws consisting of Humans and Supernaturals. They loot and pillage to survive the eternal Weeping Winter.
Please post your character sheet in the OOC and then the IC when approved.
Alias: Connor Species: Human Werewolf Faction: Former White Wyrm's Tribe
Biography: Connor's dad was a member of the White Wyrm's tribe, he lived with his family until he was five years old. It was on that day that the settlers of the Savage West came and brokered a deal with the tribe; give up their land and relocate or be eliminated by their newfangled revolvers and rifles. Connor's family walked the Trail of Tears, but Connor's dad was taken from his family and was seen as a prime candidate for assimilation.
Connor's dad was brought to a school where he learned to speak English, learned Math and how to be a proper American Gentleman. Eventually, he even betrothed a White Woman and made their son, Connor. Connor lived with his dad and mother, but dealt with racism from the settlers who's people where locked in a deadly war with the Natives. When Connor's dad learned of the White Wyrm's small tribe being wiped out on the Trail of Tears, he flew into a rage. He went to join the Cherokee cause in their resistance against the settlers and divorced his wife, but before leaving he gave Connor a gift. He bit into his arm with sharp fangs, transferring his condition into him. He left his son to figure out his own life from there.
After Connor's mother died from the shock of her son becoming a Werewolf, Connor wanted to leave home behind and forge a new future for himself. At 22, he traveled west into Kansas to settle some land that was given to him as reparations for the elimination of his people. When going into the nearby town for supplies, however, he found that the people were running low on food and decided to use his skills as a hunter to help the people of Wichita, Kansas.
Personality: Angry, Strong, Brash Melee Weapons: In his human and man-animal form, he uses a Knife and Tomahawk Projectile Weapons: Bow and Arrows Skills/Abilities: -Archery -Tracking and Hunting -Can speak his tribe's language and English -In his animal form, he can speak to and befriend animals, mainly wolves Other: -Travels through the snow with sled and wolves
Species: Ghost, although is inhabiting a human host.
Death: Burned to death while she was sleeping. The house was struck by lighting in the middle of a serious storm, starting a fire that was difficult to put out.
Bound: She's bound to the only thing that survived the fire, a bracelet.
Appearance:
She has bright red hair and green eyes.
Ghost 1 A charred skeleton. It was what was left of her after her house burned to the ground. Ghost 2 She appears as her Before Death self but wearing a white sleeping gown, the very clothes she burned to death in.
Host: Her host body, of course, depends on who she's possessing. She always wears the bracelet that she's bound to, which is still covered in ash.
Faction: None at the moment.
Biography: Marissa was a simple stable owner. She was friendly and gregarious, but, unlike her horses, was a woman that couldn't be tamed. She was passive in the sense that an erupting volcano was calm. Marissa had a fire inside that would make the flames that burned down her house blush. She was an angry woman that always had some kind of opinion. She was the kind of person that could start a fight in an empty room. Although, when she wasn't angry, she was a very kind, smart woman with a passion for her job. Marissa tended to be like a second mother for any of her friends, making sure they were well equipped to face the world. She still holds most of those aspects, but her outlook on life is dampened now that hers has officially ended.
With Marissa's death came more of a temper and less of her well-known friendliness. She's been dead longer than a minute and isn't too happy about the way she went.
Personality: Firey, kind, pessimistic.
Melee Weapons: She has a butcher knife that she got from her current host's father, who was a butcher.
Projectile Weapons: Marissa's host always had a gun in the house, and while she was out wondering Kansas, she took it with her, leaving the family temporarily unarmed.
Skills/Abilities: Ghost: Possession (Both with objects and people, but with some living things she has to fight to keep her host) Telekinesis, but only when feeling a strong emotion such as anger. The ability to phase through things The ability to start small fires Host: Telekinesis (Carries over from ghost) Excellent cook (If that matters any xD) Guns (She has a gun and knows how to use it) Horse riding (Carries over from death) Animal Handling (Carries over from death) Wilderness Training (After a bit of experience and a couple books) The Awesome Ability to Read (Host is a librarian's daughter)
Name/Alias: John Bernard Hardin Species: Human Faction: Wichita's Undertaker Biography: A man who has defied the odds and lived a full life on the frontier. In his youth, John was born into a homesteader family, one of the first in Kansas. There isn't much John remembers, save for the number of times the natives harassed them, and in truth, doesn't like their kind. When John became of age, he joined up with the military and fought in the Southeast during the Mexican-American War. He fought tooth and nail to survive. Often noted for his careful and calculating disposition, he caught some attention by the brass and throughout his long military career, he crawled up the ranks to Sargent Major, highest non-commissioned officer ranking.
Following the victory, he got his revenge and then some on that natives as he was reassigned to regiments that protected the frontier. One man could only handle so many preemptive raids on those savages before the amount of women and children deaths got to him. Resigning at a fairly old age, he got out just before the Civil War. He tried his best to establish a quiet life, just like his father before him. He married, had a daughter, and carved out a sort of ironic life as an undertaker. In John's eyes, he was trying to do good by the dead for the all the wrong he did, even though it was never going to be enough. He knew this but did what he could to respect the dead and coincidentally, protect the living.
John's wife and daughter perished from illness early in the Weeping Winter. On the day he buried his family, he decided that he had seen and experienced enough and, barring an act of God, he'd end his life that night. Strange how the good Lord works but He gave to John a sign that he had not expected. On the last burial of the day, a child with no apparent family or friends as not one soul showed to mourn, the child awoke with blazing green eyes. A sign of a Ghoul and even though John was urged to act, he didn't. Perhaps out of giving up or maybe the good Lord telling him so, the child was not some mindless husk like the rest. The child wept, confused with her death and reawakening. John spent that night helping that child and has been helping ever since. For whatever reason, this burden was placed on John and he'd do what he could to see this until the end.
Name/Alias: Daisy Juniper Addams Species: Ghoul Species Lore: An undead monster that depends upon the consumption of human flesh to sustain itself. They have frightening physical traits of increased speed and strength. Their heart doesn't beat, blood doesn't flow, but they can sustain damage like normal. They also have incredible regenerative abilities but cannot regenerate on an empty stomach and must consume human flesh to recuperate. The experienced hunter, Undertakers usually, use fire and explosives to cripple the creatures, after that it is just a matter of burying them again.
Often times, these undead beasts act wild and primitive cannibals with only the the desire to consume living flesh. The wild forms are products of evil and vile spirits possessing the bodies of the dead that were not properly respected. This is often reflected in their savage, creature-like appearances. The best way to avoid a ghoul is to bury the dead and keep them buried. However, with the rarest of circumstances, a fierce spirit of the deceased can refuse to leave their body after their untimely demise. Usually driven by revenge, these undead are more sophisticated than their primal cousins and retain most of their former selves. Faction: Service to Undertaker Hardin
Biography: There isn't much that Daisy remembers from her past life. She had a very silver-spooned upbringing, living in a grand estate with servants and the like. She didn't live in Wichita as the town is noted as being unfamiliar to her. She can't remember why she ended up here but remembers that she couldn't stay home. It might have been her father that took her away but the man who took her away is a blur in her memory. Whoever that man is, Daisy hates that man even if it is her father. He killed her, or at least caused indirectly to her death. She is sure of that.
The Undertaker has been a nice enough man to help her find that man, because she doesn't care about much other than finding that man. The Undertaker must be protected, he's trustworthy.. No. He's vulnerable, himself, much like how Daisy feels. That's why Daisy trusts him. Maybe when they both find this man, they can find rest together.
Personality: Reserved, Loyal, Uncaring Skills/Abilities: Increased Speed, Strength, Regenerative capabilities. Must feed on flesh to regenerate. Doesn't need sustenance from anything else. Feels little pain and only some emotion occasionally.
Name / alias: Shiloh Species: Demon Gender: Male Age: At least 500+, mentally in his 30s Faction: None at the moment. Will only work for people he personally has an interest in.
Appearance: Shiloh can transform into many different kinds of animals (birds and mammals mostly), although he only has one human form. In this form he has dark hair, a beige-ish complexion, and black eyes. When he wants a (temporary) new look, he simply finds a new victim to possess and uses them until their body becomes too damaged for him to use any further.
Personality: ( Curious, immoral, impulsive ) Being a demon, Shiloh has no conscience, empathy or real sense of morality. He can and will pretend to have human emotions and thought processes, as he often tries to blend in with the human population, although these feelings are never genuine no matter how convincing it might seem. He's still perfecting this, however, and will slip up at times, letting his true nature shine through. Having only been in Kansas for a decade, he's still decidedly curious about both his surroundings and the people living there; this is part of his motive for roaming around the state, as he's always eager to learn. Shiloh has little sense of self restraint, throwing caution to the wind and taking himself wherever his impulses tell him to go. Despite his age, he's still younger than many of the other demons in the area and therefore looked down on as something of a rookie. He has a rather dismissive attitude towards this, however, thinking of the others as just being biased against him because of his more recent integration into human society.
Biography: Although Shiloh's been on Earth for at least a hundred years prior to this, the demon really only appeared inside human civilization around the beginning of the Civil War, taking up his human form inside of small towns and experimentally mingling with people. Up until that point, he'd only ever watched human activity from the fringes of civilization before, making deals and causing trouble here and there. He learned quickly; after bouncing around a few places, he took to the city and began creating a persona for himself. But civilian life wasn't enough for him, he craved something more. That was when he set his sights on the Union army, as he just so happened to be in the northern parts of the country. After lying and manipulating his way past a few hurdles, he eventually got himself a job as an officer in the cavalry.
It was there that he really started to understand the nuances of human interaction and how people worked. Here, he had plenty of exposure to people from all walks of life; he used this to his advantage, learning more about the species while making several under the table deals with his coworkers at the same time. Shiloh took off again as soon as the war ended, although he kept his old sabre with him as a sort of memento. He's staying in Wichita, Kansas, and has established himself there as a ruthless mercenary who'll do anything - for a price.
Melee Weapons: A bowie knife and a cavalry sabre Projectile Weapons: A single revolver Skills/Abilities:
- Typical demonic abilites: possession, shapeshifting between forms, accelerated healing. - The type of magic he uses is pyrokinesis! He can start and extinguish fires by himself, although he has to be touching the target for it to work (or he can ignite a flame in his own hands). He can't be burned by flames. He has supernatural strength as well, although it's limited outside of his true form. - One of his passive powers allows him to subtly manipulate the weak minded into trusting him. If they become aware of this, however, the effect is broken. Another passive power is his ability to remain warm and spike up his body temperature while in the cold. - Like most demons, Shiloh can make deals with humans - usually, for a steep price. He can grant just about any wish they want (albeit a twisted version of it), although being an average demon, he has limits. He can't bring the dead back to life, for example. - The sabre he carries is mostly for show nowadays, but he can still make use of it if necessary. He also received training for all his other current weapons during his time in the Union army.
Other:
- His current alias, Shiloh, was borrowed from one of his victims; very few people know his real name, as he's only used it prior to his time on Earth. Despite popular belief, saying it out loud won't summon him, but it will draw him to you. - Shiloh will follow humans he finds interesting for extended periods of time, sometimes offering them help free of any apparent price. What happens next depends entirely on how much of a liking he's taken to the individual.
Name/Alias: Silas "The Mushroom Man" Bardum Species: Human/Fungus Hybrid
Faction: None
Biography: There are legends in small towns that simply don't seem like they belong. Legends that must be true, as they are simply too strange to come from imagination. The mushroom man is one of these legends. They say that the old hermit has lived in the far-flung forests for as long as there have been forests, tending to his mushrooms. That may be true. He is so old, and so terribly alone; only his mushrooms to keep him company. He probably had parents, but he doesn't remember them. They say that he has spent so much time amongst the fungus that he has become a fungus himself. This is most certainly true. Now, the Weeping Winter threatens the Mushroom Man's "children". For the first time in living memory, he seeks the assistance of the outside world.
Personality: Reclusive, Quiet, Focused
Melee Weapons: Bowie knife, poisonous tendrils
Skills/Abilities: Control over fungus-based life, regeneration, in depth knowledge of horticulture, naturally occurring poisons
Rumors been driftin' 'bout, speakin' of a white-wrapped vigilante ridin' through the snow on a bright white skeletal steed; fast as the wind, he roams through the Weeping Winter wilderness, stirrin' up the souls o' the dead. Men burst into the taverns at night shaken from the wind and bitter cold, but a great deal of 'em learned to be home before midnight, lest the White Rider came to lop off their head. They say he came from up north, in Nebraska territory - or up past that. A lotta folks don't much care where he came from, so long as he ain't stayin'. Hell, some folks say the man's just a tad bit lost - in fact, a feller we had here a couple months back said he spent an evenin' with the shrouded figure, after he done lost his horse to the freezin' waters of a river. Said he was quiet; of course, since he's all bandaged-up past the eyes. But he pulled the feller right from the stream and dragged him up to a nearby cave - what a lucky guy he weren't ate by the thing! Nobody believed him anyway, but I seen the boy's eyes, and they were cold stone; he'd stared death right in the face and it gave him a fire and some game. "Awe-struck" don't do it no justice. Have I ever seen him? Only once - well, I think so, anyway. It's said he only arrives durin' the coldest of storms, and is only ever on the horizon 'til a man peeks his head out the door - and in a flash, he's gone. But I seen 'im, and I felt right stricken to the bone - I've never felt such a haunting cold in my life.
-- David Finlay, barkeep
Henry William Koch was born on December 9th, 1840 in a small sodden homestead just south of Fort Atkinson, Nebraska territory. His father, Joseph James Koch, served in the United States Army, being stationed at the first fort west of the Missouri shortly after its completion. Having eight older siblings, Henry was often picked on for his thin, wiry hair and long ears, but grew into a handsome young man as he worked out in the fields with his brothers. However, he quickly tired of the settlers life, and decided to head east - Chicago was the destination. Spending a few years of his adulthood there, he sprung up in arms with the impending likelihood of war with the south. He had no motivation, really, beyond the thrill of adventure - but this thrill would later get him in trouble, and cost him dearly. Henry's service in the military was wild and short-lived. Spending most of his time in Missouri, he was a Union fighter in the trans-Mississippi theater, and a fairly good marksman to boot. But, after an explosion left him bandaged-together and dying in a medical tent, Henry was almost certain it was the end for him. Stranger still, he kept hearing a muffled voice in the back of his head, telling him to let go. Then, even worse news - disease had broken out in camp, and he was surrounded by it. They called it the Rot - and for good reason. Most who caught it usually knew after twenty-four hours, when they would develop a hoarse, scratchy cough, followed by splitting headaches. The following week could only be described as a gradual descent into hell, with increased heart-rate, thickened blood, hacking up strange blood-ridden chunks, and the stench of decay. Many who caught the disease died after only a week or two; many more killed themselves before they would let the pain overwhelm them. It didn't take long before Henry caught it himself, but his case was unique - despite suffering the traumatic symptoms, Henry's will seemed to persist past week one, and week two, yet the symptoms worsened further than they ever had previously. His body was eventually moved to a separate tent, simply because the smell was so overwhelming. But, regardless of how much pain he was in, he believed he was going to overcome the Rot, no matter how many nights he had to wake up in terror and pain, unsure of whether the screams he heard in his dreams were his own. Henry William Koch was buried on December 3rd, 1863, six days prior to his twenty-third birthday. His body was first sent to Chicago, then transported across Iowa, toward Atkinson. The funeral was somber and cold, with his family and some neighbors surrounding his closed casket as he was lowered into the ground. He would lay there undisturbed for two whole years. When Henry Koch awoke, he wasn't quite sure where he was. It was dark, quiet - the air was filled with a rotten musk, but seemed almost familiar to him. But perhaps most notable of all was the absence of pain. He thought to move his arms, shift his body, do something-- he heard a shifting above him. Then a scratching, and a thumping. Suddenly, he was blinded by the brilliance of the sun, and he lifted his hands to cover his eyes, before he noticed that, well, he couldn't. He tried, time and time again, before a figure stepped between his gaze and the fire ablaze in the heavens above. This figure would identify itself as Aglan - a demon proclaiming itself as the late Henry's liberator. After a great speech surmising the tale of the murder of the Koch family and the restoration of life into Henry's corpse, Aglan poured into the casket the blood of Henry's parents, siblings, nieces, and nephews, rejuvenating all of Henry's faculties and slowly gluing the man back together. Aglan's deed was not out of the kindness of its heart, but rather the introduction of a business proposition - Henry Koch would continue to murder and binge in blood to ensure his continued survival, and Aglan would receive the souls of those who perished. Of course, Henry didn't recognize much of anything that Aglan had done for him as being any good at all, and swore upon his fallen family to destroy the wicked spirit in any way that he could. Thus, the tale of the Wrapped Desperado began.
Silent. Watchful. Vengeful.
A hunting axe, strapped to the side of his horse's saddle.
Two revolvers, holstered on either side of the hip. Recent sightings suggest there's a rifle slung across his back, or at least something close to it in size. Other reports infer his usage of a bow and arrow, which is entirely likely, but the vast majority of sightings only detail the pistols at his belt.
Sharpshooter: Raised by a U.S. veteran and having spent time in service, the Desperado's eagle-eye and quick draw make him a force to be reckoned with by the untrained fighter.
Green Reaper: The Homestead life left an impression on the man, compounding his familiarity with the West with his knowledge of crops, livestock, game, and foraging. Though not incredibly useful in the dead of winter, the Desperado's expertise on local flora and fauna has more than likely been of help in his survival.
Physical Fortitude: Though cursed with the persistent pestilence of the Rot, the Desperado does what he can to keep in peak physical condition - at least, as much as his undead body will allow.
Part-Time Physician: Having spent as much time with the Rot as he has, the Desperado has to take the time to clean and change his bandages and patch up any decomposing bits of his body. It may not be a certified practice, but it proves pretty helpful in the midst of a fire-fight.
Rotgut: Some of the transformations upon the Desperado's body due to the Rot weren't necessarily destructive, but rather helped perpetuate the body's decomposition. The acids inside of the Desperado's stomach began to warm and bubble, jumping out at the rest of the body to try and eat it away. If he doesn't somehow expel the toxic liquid regularly, it would continue to boil and fester before it started cooking and melting him. Instead, he makes sure to drain his stomach about twice a week, creating a strange concoction that, coincidentally, is just as flammable as it is toxic. Though he has yet to employ his stomach-juice for any sort of combative usage, the Desperado is well aware of it's pernicious potential, watching once as a small drop of liquid ate clean through a felled tree he was sitting upon. Alternatively, the substance is an incredibly great source of heat, probably acting as the single barrier between his freezing solid from the cold.
Dead Nerves: Being undead does have its perks - particularly if one has to get in a lot of fights. The Desperado doesn't feel pain - in fact, he can't feel the touch of much anything at all. Whether it's the stinging cold or the bite from a bullet, the Desperado never flinches - but a well-aimed shot to the skull means it's all over for the lone rider.
Snow Nonsense: The Desperado always seems to be able to tell when a snowstorm is on it's way - at least, so long as it isn't conjured up in an instant. Thus, he spends a lot of his time following storms and learning their patterns, often using the impending downfall as cover for whenever he needs to get close and comfortable with the locals.
Boiling Blood: Part of the deal made with Aglan was that if his body ever was falling apart beyond repair, then it was time for the Desperado to seek the blood necessary to replenish it. Unfortunately, this meant draining the life from another human being - which also only worked if that individual had the correct blood type. Thus, the Desperado was doomed to wander as a murderer - but there was another clause that Aglan failed to mention. On moonless nights, if the Desperado feeds, he will be filled with an unfathomable power, surpassing any strength or speed capable of any man. The mind will shut down and bend savagely, flicking on a purely primal instinct to feed-- there's simply no telling what mass of carnage would ensue.
Name:Flynt M. Lockke Nickname(s): Flynn,Finn,The Forgiver Species:Human Appearance:
Faction:None
Biography:Flynt was born into a family of monster hunters who constantly traveled the west in search of bounties. From a young age he had a affinity with alchemy, stealing practices in the dead of night behind the family wagon. He perfected in a day what took many alchemist years to even understand. Coupled along with his deep knowledge of the supernatural and unholy, he was able to craft a multitude of elixers and tonics that could hurt and even kill such beings. Over the course of his teenage years he made thousands of potions for the people, handing them out in town centres for mere pennies. His life was easy-going and simple but he craved knowledge and deeper understanding of the forces that made up the world. This craving led him to his discovery of the germanic runestones, which he also mastered. He now wanders the west in search of deeper knowledge and offering his services to all who need them.
Personality: A very rustic and down to earth individual, always sporting a kind smile even in the darkest of days. He can't resist a good pun or two and often leaps into danger to protect others.
Weapons: Germanic runestones- Made of rowan wood and burning with a deep purple hue, these domino sized squares are capable of combat and more mundane means,such as supplying food.
Crossbow- A small crossbow blessed by several priest and soaked in holy water during completion. He wields it with deadly accuracy and sports a number of different bolts.(silver tip, gold tip, blessed and normal bolts)
Winchester Repeating Rifle- His main weapon when dealing with most entities. He often loads in different tipped rounds in one chamber.(same as the crossbow bolts)
Skills: Master alchemist-able to craft various potions,poisons and tonics,Weapon Master-Skilled in using various firearms and melee weapons,Instincts-Has a natural sense for danger,often choosing the correct decisions in dire situations.
-Species: Belongs to the general group of fey, although she is half pixie and half fairy.
-Species Lore: Sord was made as a byproduct of a pixie somehow mating with a fairy, in an unknown and possibly never to be elaborated on matter, and as such, has a peculiar mixture of abilities between the two types of fae, as well as being able to switch between two forms.
-Appearance: In her normal form, Sord looks like a little girl, maybe 6 inches tall, wearing a simple green dress and barefoot, with straight green hair that reaches down to her neck, and light yellow eyes, with thin translucent light green wings. In her pixie form, Sord is a winged ball of light that glows a shade of yellowish-green.
-Faction: Rogue (her own faction)
-Biography: Sord’s earliest memory of her childhood was simply waking up one day in a forest, and from there it never really got any more interesting than that, there was simply days passing in the forest as she wandered around, until eventually she reached the edge of the forest. And there she found that what she had seen so far was merely a tiny portion of the world. She saw great giant things in the distance, and some sort of organized settlement reasonably nearby, where she first encountered the species known to itself as ‘human’. From there, she discovered all sorts of fun ways to mess with them, and learned their language of ‘English’. Eventually she got bored of that settlement and began to wander off into the greater wild world!
-Personality: Sord can sometimes be quite mischievous, particularly when in a new area that no one knows her, and likes to explore and learn new things, but can be quite mellow and happy once you get to know her.
-Melee Weapons: N/A
-Projectile Weapons: N/A
-Skills/Abilities: As a unique mixture of two different types of fae, Sord can switch between two different types of forms, fairy, and pixie, which takes about 2 seconds to take place. These forms have different abilities, but also some abilities in common.
Agility: As a very tiny and fast creature, Sord generally has high speed in both forms, and has rather high reaction speed as well. Harmlessness: Sord emits an aura that impresses upon nearby sentient beings that Sord is a harmless and innocent creature. This is incredibly weak, and generally only works if the target bears Sord no ill will previously. Levitation: Sord can fly using a combination of magic and wings, up to 5 feet off the ground.
-In fairy form, Sord gains more conscious magic abilities, but doesn’t have very many unconscious ones. Telekinesis: Sord gains a weak form of telekinesis, being able to lift something up to a pound in weight, up to five feet away from her (within Line of Sight). Charm: Sord can expand some energy to release a weak charming projectile spell that, if the target fails to resist, leaves them open to suggestion from Sord for about a minute. Force Bolt: Sord expands a good deal of her energy for a bolt of force, designed purely to knock things away.
-In pixie form, Sord has few conscious abilities, but gains several passive ones: Pixie Dust: Sord, as a pixie, occasionally emits a sort of shedding of excess, which is used by other races as a conduit for magic, and, if ingested (through breathing or other means), may cause a change in mood, towards that of giddiness and excitement. Magical Affinity: Sord can see faint traces of magic, similar to how humans see color, corresponding to elements, as well as gaining a general resistance to magical effects (which, of course, can be bypassed with effort).
Name: Xidhru Also known as ‘The Frozen One’ and the ‘Ice Walker’
Appearance:
Credit to Patrick McEvoy for artwork
Xidhru is a hulking humanoid entity standing roughly 12’ (3.65M) tall. He is covered in crimson fur, though his veins glow bright enough to be noticeable through the fur. His eyes glow an eerie icy-blue and his sharp teeth clearly defines him as a carnivore. He has razor sharp claws that can quickly tear through anything unfortunate enough to draw his ire… or be his meal.
Species: Eldritch Things Species Lore: Not much is known about Eldritch Things, their low population offers little chance for knowledge of their kind. They share few similarities with each other, both in appearance and in abilities. They have a very long lifespan, many having lived long enough to see nations rise and fall. Due to their supernatural abilities, several are revered as gods and have cults dedicated to them (though few care about others, even their own worshippers).
Faction: None currently.
Personality: Brutish, Aggressive
Bio: Xidhru has existed in North America for hundreds of years, and in that time he has prowled the far North for prey to feast on. His savage nature and control of Ice and Wind means that nothing can escape while he is hunting. His favorite preys were the local tribes of humans who would on occasion unfortunately travel near him. When the corpses were found, if they were found at all, they would be found ripped apart like a starving wolf would do to deer. Over time, some of the natives would leave sacrifices in the areas Xidhru frequented. When it became clear that this would be a regular occurrence, Xidhru would not let the unnatural wind he created harm the natives for as long as the sacrifice kept coming and even gifted a portion of his powers to a select tribe who would raid other tribes for Xidhru. On occasion Xidhru even communes with some of his ‘priests’.
Recently he heard tales of an unnaturally long winter in the south. This weeping winter has gone on for far longer than it should have must be the work of another entity with abilities similar to his, the work of an entity that could prove a threat to him. What if this entity is friendlier to the humans? His worshippers might turn to this other being. Xidhru decided to investigate, intent on eliminating this potential threat before it became a problem. Maybe he could even expand his influence and make worshipers of the humans in the area.
Melee: Xidhru often uses his brute strength and sharp claws to through flesh and bone. There are few things that can withstand his attacks.
Abilities:
- Xidhru is able to create unnatural wind and Ice to slow his prey and absorb their warmth. His presence is often accompanied by an unusually biting cold wind.
- Immunity to sub-zero temperatures
- While his blizzards are harsh enough to make seeing and hearing difficult, Xidhru is capable of sensing prey as if it was a clear day
- Heightened sense of vision, hearing, and smell compared to the average human. Xidhru can track someone who has as much of a mile of a head start most of the time
- Xidhru’s magical nature leaves him slightly vulnerable to physical influences. While he is not an easy target, some individuals managed to drive him off, if only for a while.
- Xidhru is vulnerable to extreme heat due to his frost affinity, though rarely are individuals capable of producing a flame in his inclement weather.
Other: - Xidhru, being very aggressive, hates backing down and often does not retreat unless he feels his demise is likely. Though this rarely happens, on occasion potential prey happens to be well prepared or lucky enough to fend him off. - While he often sees others as potential sources of food, he on occasion cooperates with others if their goals align. This usually does not last long after Xidhru has no need of them however.
Name/Alias: What her name is depends on whose identity she steals, but legend calls her "The Stitcher".
Species: Raised corpse by White Wyrm's power
Faction: Depends on the identity she assumes. No faction right now.
Biography: As White Wyrm's power released across the Savage West, an anonymous skeleton awoke as she found herself buried deep under snow. Terrified, she crawled instinctively out of ground, in an attempt to gasp for air. It was only then she realized the horrible truth that she was dead and no longer who she used to be... but who was she? She remembered no more. As she ran her skeleton fingers across her face, she felt despair. She screeched loudly and hatefully as she discovered how ugly she now looked, and she knew that she needed to find a new body, a beautiful one.
Her desperation for a new shell soon became a massacre, as she started capturing and skinning every single traveler she came across, in search of an attractive skin. She was never satisfied with the skins she obtained, as they were always flawed and at times ripped after her brutal ways of killing. They tended to rot too quickly.
Sneaking into a village , she decided to murder the local alchemist and started experimenting on ways to preserve her new skins. Her skills improved exponentially over time, as she was now able to preserve skins for a month's time before they started to decompose and smell. Though rumors began to spread within the small village, as cases of disappearance became too frequent. The narcissistic skeleton left the village in search for a new habitat - along with her new nickname "The Stitcher".
Personality: narcissistic, cold-blooded (literally), dissociative identity disorder (personality shifts according to the skin it occupies)
Melee/Projectile Weapons: She can wield and use simple weapons depending on the identity she stole, but just an act and nothing too skillful.
Skills/Abilities: 1. Disguise Able to blend in the human society easily as long as she occupies a skin. She has the ability to imitate behaviors like habits and voices of her victim through the muscle memories left within the skin.
2. Human Anatomy, Preservation Techniques, Simple Potion Alchemy and Specialty in Paralyzing Poison Due to her continuous experiments on human corpses, she has obtained a great deal of anatomical knowledge and how to preserve them. She also learnt to paralyze her targets for a specific period of time, to keep them alive long enough so that the meat is "fresh".
3. High resistance to cold Being raised by White Wrym from within the snow, she is highly resistant to cold.
4. Immune to poison/illness/diseases (unless it's about the bones) She can drink almost any poison and survives the day. Normal human weaknesses will not apply to her.
Weaknesses: 1. Low resistance to fire Her occupied skin would melt to show her true self, and with a high temperature (a temperature that would kill normal human) her bones would too, thus killing her.
2. Unable to heal naturally She could replace her skin if it is damaged, but any damage to her bones would leave a permanent mark; unless she gets help from witches or necromancers to repair them.
Name/Alias: Saya Species: Frost Sprite Species Lore: Sprites are supernatural creatures that come in many different shapes and sizes, each attuned to a certain aspect of nature, though none as strong as Elementals and similar species. Sprites' behaviour varies greatly; some help mankind, while others try their best to make their lives miserable for example.
Appearance: Saya is 18 (human) years old and has white hair and pale skin. She wears a simple, slightly damaged dress (it seen it's fair share of damage, though it's been patched up with some simple sowing) and simple sandals (she doesn't need to worry about the cold). Saya's hair is long and generally a bit of a mess, and she stands at around 5'0"/1.52M tall.
Faction: N/A
Biography: From a young age, Saya has always been fascinated by Humans, especially those that lived in the small village near her home in the mountains - one of the few places with snow even in summer - and tried her best to fit in. While only really able to live in wintery conditions, Saya did her best to help the villagers near her home where she could, her abilities helping hunt food in winter and doing other things humans would have trouble doing in the cold. Over time, the villagers grew fond of Saya and got used to her presence, and she lived a happy life. That, however, would not last forever. Word of Saya's presence spread to neighbouring villages, and eventually reached the ears of some unsavory people, who decided that Saya would be worth a lot of money if they got their hands on her, and hatched a plan. On a day of celebrations, when everybody was out having fun, the group of bandits attacked the town, taking everybody by surprise. Making short work of anybody who had a gun, and then decided to kill the others to avoid leaving witnesses while they took both Saya and all the money in the local bank, torching the town for good measure.
Saya, heartbroken by the loss, was demoralized, having lost everyone she cared for. She ate little as the criminals travelled further and further away, until winter started coming to an end. Knowing that she probably wouldn't survive the heat, she managed to escape one night (the criminals had their guard down because Saya didn't seem like she'd try to escape) and ran off into the mountains, far away from the criminals.
A few years have passed, and with the coming of the Weeping Winter, Saya has decided to take action. Having spent her time practing her hunting skills and acquiring a rifle, Saya has set out to find those that killed those she cared about, taking the occasional job as hunter, guard or even assasin as a source of money.
Personality: Friendly, Loyal, Shy (Saya is, if you get to know her well enough, a friendly and loyal person, though she doesn't socialise a lot, so she's difficult to befriend.)
Melee Weapons: Saya carries a simple knife, both for skinning game, or stabbing people that get too close. Projectile Weapons: As befits her jobs and abilities, Saya carries an accurate, scoped rifle (1 Shot) and a backup derringer (2 Shots)
Skills/Abilities: Being a Frost Sprite, Saya has several abilities related to the cold and snow. - Cold Resistance: Saya is immune to the cold (though she's not stupid enough to go out without clothes to prove it) due to her nature as a Frost Sprite, allowing her to spend the night out without needing to setup camp. - Stealth: While not actually invisible, Saya is very difficult to detect in the snow. She doesn't leave footprints and can blend in easily, though she can't hide as well when she's running, and she can still be heard by those nearby - Accuracy: Saya is an accurate sniper, able to hunt game and humans with equal ease - Snow Regeneration: If Saya is buried under snow and left alone for a while, she can hibernate and heal wounds, (4 hours worth of rest heals simple wounds and might heal some broken bones, but won't heal anything very serious, that takes longer)
Other: I'll just put in some weaknesses and such in here: - Heat Weakness: While heat won't instantly kill her, the longer she spends in a warm place, the weaker she gets and the less energy she has. While spending some time in front of a hearth won't do her in, spending several days in a warm building without going in will leave her significantly weakned - Carnivore: Non-Meat Food doesn't provide Saya with a lot of energy, forcing her to eat meat. (It can sate her hunger though) - Can't ride Horses: Simple, Saya doesn't know how to ride a horse - Uneducated: Saya never really got any formal education, she barely knows math (she can do simple calculations though) and is rather oblivious to most social etiquette
After selling his soul to a demon, Troy's body shifted itself in order to excel in combat - his bones grew hard, his reflexes and dexterity bolstered to superhuman levels, and his speed increasing to that of 3 men. Unfortunately, his body was twisted into a monstrous mockery of it's old self, and holy items burned him to the touch. He was infamous as one of the most dangerous shots in the new world, but rarely killed anyone who crossed his path.
Troy has become a disembodied ghost, but due to the weakness of his soul, has been forced to reside in an object of sentimental value and rest until he grows strong enough to exist without this anchor. His chose form was that of a Colt Model 1851 Navy Percussion Revolver, his most prized possession before his death. This was the weapon he used in his final duel, and it never left his side. Even in death, it is less like he owns the weapon, and more like the weapon owns him. He is unable to support his spectral form, and thus only exists as the revolver. The gun itself is a simple weapon, made with an oaken handle and silver barrel. Despite it's size, it seems somewhat heavier than normal.
Name: Troy Casey
Alias: "The Revolver", "The Gravedigger"
Species: Supernatural: Ghost, possessing a revolver
Faction: None.
Biography: Troy Casey was born into a small, rather poor family around 1802. As a boy, he had a fiery temper, and grew up on the more wild areas of New England. He may have been a bit rough around the edges, but he had a good heart, and always did what he felt was right. These good intentions, however, rarely turned out well, and Troy was widely recognized as a troublemaker in his hometown of Ellsworth. Luckily, he was only imprisoned a couple of times, and they were never for longer than a year. Troy eventually dropped out of school, and took over the family farm. Troy, however, wasn't the type of guy to stay on a farm his whole life, no siree. He wanted to explore the new world, even if there wasn't much out there.
In 1820, Troy followed in the footsteps of Daniel boon and Lewis and Clark, setting out to explore the West. While Lewis and Clark had already explored the majority of the country, Troy was the kinda kid that had to see first hand what the new world had to offer. His travels took him from many parts of the continent, and he met many faces along the way. Some encounters were... less than friendly. Luckily, he managed to make a close friend during these times - David McCoy. McCoy was tall, pale, and had dark hair, but was very handsome. Definitely not the type you would expect to be exploring the wild parts of the Country. Still, the pair grew close with no one else to talk to - so close, in fact, that after a particularly bad Native American attack, David offered a fantastic deal - Troy would never have to worry about attacks again, at the price of Troy's immortal soul.
Troy was never a religious man, having been sent to jail several, times, and this seemed just like David's sense of humor. So, jokingly, the pair shook on the deal. Troy went to sleep that night, awakening in horror. He was roughly the same as before - only except half his face was missing, and tendrils sprouted from his body like disgusting tentacles. Troy immediately began to look for David, but he was nowhere in sight. The bastard had run off in the night.
For the next few years, Troy survived in the wild, staying far from human civilization. The supernatural was common, but he looked outright monstrous, and was sure to be attacked. It wasn't until 1840 that Troy had a lucky break. A man had died, leaving behind one of the newer inventions - a revolver. Troy had also found a large number of bullets with the man's corpse, and after practicing with the gun, Troy realized he was talented with it. Not to mention, his demonic traits made him all the more effective, his reaction time and speed quickly compounding to make him an excellent shot. With the hunt renewed, Troy continued to hunt McCoy, occasionally looting towns in the night to procure more bullets. In 1855, Troy stole a new gun from a naval officer, unfortunately having to break the man's arm to escape. It was then that Troy found McCoy, on the outskirts of the old Casey farm.
David had his own pistol and, wanting the duel to be fair, told Troy about a single weak spot at the base of his neck. A good shot there should kill him, sending him back to hell. If Troy won, he would get back his soul. But if David won, Troy was damned to not only an eternity of hell, but would be David's personal slave for all eternity. The duel was short lived - David had gone too easy on Troy. Perhaps he had generally been a friend, and didn't want to kill Troy. As he died, Troy felt his soul come back to him. Unfortunately, he was immediately killed - the Naval officer, dying of infection, was avenged by his soldiers, who had chased after a monster in the outskirts of Ellsworth.
Troy, however, refused to die. His soul, weakened from David feeding off of it for so many years, could not support a spiritual form - but it could continue existing if it found a place to rest. As such, it moved to the object that Troy held most dear - the weapon he used to kill the person he hated the most.
Years passed - Troy was wielded by many different people, all overestimating their newfound abilities. They usually died, but some simply tossed Troy when he wouldn't stop annoying them. Overtime, the Civil war started and ended, with little consequence to Troy. Eventually, however, the winter started - Troy would not be directly impacted by it, seeing as he didn't need food, but many people were sure to die. Finally, with a new purpose, Troy finds himself without a wielder and in Wichita, looking for a way to stop the White Wyrm.
Personality: Tired, Wise, Supportive
Melee Weapons: N/A
Projectile Weapons: Colt Model 1851 Navy Percussion Revolver.
Skills/Abilities: Himself: -General Telekinesis - A staple of Ghosts. Relatively weak compared to most ghosts, but enough to move himself at a decent pace. Can use this to alter the trajectory of his bullets somewhat. -Supernatural Quality - The revolver he possesses is supernaturally good. It never needs cleaning, never jams, and is far more difficult to damage than normal. -Telepathy - Troy is capable of communicating with anyone touching the revolver, and can read their minds as well. This effect stops immediately after physical contact stops. Wielder: -Supernatural Marksmanship - Anyone wielding the revolver has a weakened form of Troy's skill with the revolver. This is an intermediate skill level, enough that the wielder can use the revolver as if they had it for a few years. This increases the wielder's skill more if they are already proficient with revolvers or they are demons. -Enhanced Reaction Time.
Human, Undead (?)
Ties to the demon, Aglan
Silent. Watchful. Vengeful.
A hunting axe, strapped to the side of his horse's saddle.
Two revolvers, holstered on either side of the hip. Recent sightings suggest there's a rifle slung across his back, or at least something close to it in size. Other reports infer his usage of a bow and arrow, which is entirely likely, but the vast majority of sightings only detail the pistols at his belt.
