Barrett — Roleplayer Guild

Basic Information

| Name |
Currently Nicodem Kaminski, adopted the name a century ago in Poland.

| Age |
Unsure, likely born somewhere around 1000 A.D.

| Gender |
Male.

| Sexuality |
Asexual Aromatic 

| Occupation |
Deputy Police Commissioner.

| In-Depth Appearance |
Turned late in life, or at least late in life for the period, Nicodem gives off the impression of someone who has been tired for a long, long time. His face is lined and his eye sockets sunken, a few old wounds buried under the weight of wrinkles. His whole body hints at a past full of fights and criminality, in fact, faded tattoos and ancient scars jockeying for position all over his chest, back, arms and legs. Yet he simultaneously projects the air of a coiled spring, ready to unleash energy at a moment's notice. His gait says something similar, every step measured and assured, feet landing precisely where they're supposed and never moving faster than he wants to. Nicodem stands with his back straight and shoulders held high, like a man constantly on the parade ground.

In the past, Nicodem would normally wear whatever was cleanest or whatever suited his current job. But today, even those with average jobs can afford to dress in well tailored clothes, beautiful ties and shiny shoes. So he chooses to dress in nice coats, fine suits, an array of formal ties and boots or shoes that he personally cares for like children. In the course of his duty, his outfits occasionally become become spattered with blood or smeared with grime which is, of course, annoying. On the other hand, at least no one washes clothes in a river with a handful of sand anymore. Nicodem's long hair tends to start the day gelled back across his head and, depending on how stressful the day is, slowly frees itself to swing free, much to his annoyance. His voice is deep and earthy but his accent an enigma. If European accents were spices, Nicodem's accent is what happens when you accidentally knock the spice rack over into a ditch; there's traces of Russian, Spanish and English in there, along with unplaceable touches of rural slur and old fashioned syntax.






Who am I?

| Personality |
♦ Pragmatic ♦ Weary ♦ Disciplined ♦ Unsympathetic ♦

Nicodem judges people with the standards that he places on himself and therefore sees them as falling into two categories; those who control themselves and are to be respected; and those who don't and aren't. For him, control is the one true measure of worth and of success. If you can control yourself, you can do anything, be anything. And if you can't, you're not worth the time it takes to insult you. The philosophy arose from his own long history of drink and anger fuelled violence, which wrecked one stable lifestyle after another. He doesn't drink anymore and if he gets angry, you'd never know it to look at him.

Nicodem's self control manifests itself in a few ways. For one, his face is impassive and immobile unless he wants it otherwise. Another, he has certain schedules that he sticks too with unflinching perseverance. Rise, exercise, languages, training, work, study, sleep. Leisure time and meals have their own set times, balanced his other obligations. Thirdly, he doesn't drink human blood, not ever. Rat blood might taste like mud, piss and vinegar but that's what Nicodem survives on. To remove temptation from his life, he habitually files down his fangs. It's a painful process (though not as bad as the bayonet in the guts he got in Warsaw) but means that's he's got no choice but to harvest blood with a syringe and drink it from a glass. It's also responsible for his belief in the sanctity of law; if you can't make sure you follow the laws, you deserve the punishment.

Apart from that, he's generally kind to those who need kindness and indifferent to those who don't. It's not that he doesn't like people, it's just that he doesn't particularly feel the need for companions past those he already has. He doesn't like seeing people suffer and will lend a helping hand to anyone who needs a step up, whether that means giving them a sofa to stay on or helping them to find a job through his contacts at work. If you ask him for help, you better be sure you need it though. If you tell him your problem and he decides it's all your own fault, he's more likely to shake his head and walk away than anything else.

| Likes & Dislikes |
✔ Cigarettes, brand and flavour irrelevant.
✔ Black drinks, tea or coffee.
✔ Historical fiction.
✔ Television shows, the longer the better.
✔ Sugary Sweets.
✔ Dressing well, hasn't always been possible.
✔ Ties, both smart and silly.
✔ Well maintained shoes, treat 'em right and they'll treat you right.
✔ Modern sausages.

✘ Vampires and Dhampires.
✘ Human blood.
✘ Rat blood, but he drinks it anyway.
✘ Being called 'Nic', 'Nico' or 'Demi', makes an exception for Ryan.
✘ Milk, tastes all wrong nowadays.
✘ People who encourage violence.
✘ Hot weather, ties become uncomfortable.
✘ Alcohol.






| History |
Up until about five years ago, Nicodem had no idea when he was born or for how long he had walked the earth. He knew he'd been around for some time and seen a lot things change but numbers and dates eluded him. Since then, he spent some weeks in a library, first chronicling his living memories and then trying to relate them to real life events. Unfortunately for Nicodem, history books can only take you so far when your earliest memory is of being a full grown man, fighting in a muddy field for a long forgotten cause. After almost a month of searching and wracking his brains for any scrap of recollection, he sighed and gave it up as a lost cause. Should anyone be searching enough to ask him his age, he'd tell them he's too old to start answering questions like that. On the rare occasions he's discussed such matters with other immortals, he's been surprised at how well they remember being alive. He can barely even recall what his name was back then, let alone where he grew up.

What he does know is that in his life, he's had a lot of jobs. He ran a tavern in Sicily and market stall in Madrid. He collected debts in Moscow and scars in St Petersburg. He fought for money in Poland and for revenge in the New world, now called America. In fact, there are few cities on the face of the earth to which Nicodem is truly a stranger. Equally, there are few jobs that he hasn't tried his hand at once or twice, from banker to bouncer to butcher. There's only ever really been one constant in his life; violence. When he was a mercenary, Nicodem wouldn't think twice about killing a man. That was the job. When the job changed though, somehow the man didn't. He gave scaffolding a go, working on the construction of a great cathedral in Italy but left within a month after a barroom brawl turned bloody. He tried again with different jobs but the outcome was always the same.

For a time, Nicodem simply accepted that it was his lot in life to be stained in blood. God wants what god wants, he used to say. But eventually he could no longer blame the blood on circumstance or or fate. It was unpleasantly clear to him that the only reason people died around him was his own lack of control. A spilled drink, an unkind word, a nasty look, anything was enough to set Nicodem off when he was in the mood for a fight. Or had a skinful of alcohol. Or both. Since this revelation, Nicodem hasn't touched a drop of alcohol (this was somewhere in the 1800s) and has dedicated almost every waking hour to learning indomitable self control. It started with small things, ritual exercises and the like, before moving to tougher endeavours, like holding hot coals, before moving to the big ones, filing down his fangs and weaning himself off of human blood.

Today, Nicodem's will is an iron bastion and his daily routines are engraved in stone. Somewhere along the line, he picked up the idea that languages are important and you have to keep speaking them in order to not forget how. So he spends an hour a day running through monologues in the handful of tongues he speaks and listens to 'teach-yourself-[insert language here]' tapes whenever he can. He's also decided that, on the whole, he's not ready to stop moving around yet and would like to make sure no one can make that decision for him. As such, he exercises to keep in peak condition and trains in the use of blades, both with knives and a Polish Hussar's cavalry sabre he brought with him to Britain before security was so tight. He knows he's unlikely to participate in a cavalry action any time soon but he'd rather not be rusty should the occasion arise. Nicodem was given the job of Deputy Commissioner by Ryan Croft, who saw potential for good in the vampire's control. In this position, Nicodem helps pursue whichever case currently has Ryan's attention and pitches in with making sure the police station runs smoothly. The job has made him far more suspicious and methodical than he previously was and he eventually took a leaf out of Ryan's book, keeping notes on who is who in Edgetoun.

| Family |
None living that he knows of. Has no wish to sire a Dhampire, might be interested in adopting a child.

| Strengths |
Physically fit and extremely well trained.
Incredible discipline and self control, would make a good teacher/trainer.
Doesn't mind taking on burdens to help those who are unable to help themselves.

| Weaknesses |
Not particularly skilled at social interactions, apart from intimidation.
Personal philosophy doesn't leave much room for what he perceives as weakness.
High standards that he expects everyone to aim for.






The Other

| Theme Songs |
The Cruel Wars – The Dreadnouhgts
 The recruiting sergeant marched away
From the Inn near town at the break of day,
Johnny came too with half a ring
He was off to be a soldier to go fighting for the King
In a far off war in a far off land
To face the foreign soldier,
But how will you fare when there's lead in the air,
Oh poor Johnny what'll happen to ya?

| House Number |
14 Pratchett Road, Faircourt.

| Extra Information |
Speaks English, Spanish and Italian fluently, conversational in French, Polish and Russian.
Hasn't been a soldier since the time of muskets, still practises with his cavalry sabre.
Has been smoking tobacco, either in pipes or cigarettes, for centuries and it has never occurred to him to quit.
Keeps a group of six rats in a hutch in his garden, occasionally takes blood from them with a syringe. He hasn't named them but still cares for them, feeding them often and occasionally letting them free to run around the house.
Been on the wagon since the early 1800s.



The following assessments and notes are scrawled into a small notebook Nicodem keeps on his person at all times. Some names have photos next to them, other merely brief descriptions. For those who work for the police, small stars are drawn by their names. Those who Nicodem suspects of illicit activities get skulls.


Blake Preston
"Almost certainly human. Seems confident in herself, perhaps a little too much?"
Nicodem doesn't boast or challenge people to fights. If you're going to fight, fight. Don't tell people that you're going to fight them before hand though.


Daniel Belson
"Doesn't quite smell human, looks at the people around him like they're his property. Demon?"
The latter trait isn't necessarily demonic.


Alistair Queen
"Definite Vamp, Owns property, seems sharp enough. He smiles well, very good at hiding his fangs."
Nicodem knows that filing your fangs off isn't for everyone and applauds the skill it takes to smile but not make people instantly move to protect their neck.


Mariska Costas
"Very strange, can't place the smell. Good singing voice?"
Nymphs don't tend to hang around battlefields, barrooms or police stations so Nicodem hasn't met one before.


Nikita Yankovsky
Star
"Smells like sex, constantly. Her time, her business but she doesn't smell all human, probable demon."
Nicodem doesn't go in for that sort of thing personally but doesn't judge those who do.


Mordred Hame
"Definite demon, probably not a threat though."
Some people exude charm, others menace. Demons tend to give off both and Nicodem isn't bad at spotting them.


John Taylor
"Another strange one, wouldn't like to have to fight him without more information. Demon? Werewolf? Unsure as of yet."
Not an expert in supernatural creatures (despite being one), Nicodem wouldn't know a Wendgio if it Wendiwent.


Eve Lumière
"Either a succubus or completely insatiable. Unlikely to be a threat."
Hey, whatever you need to survive, some of us have to drink rat's blood.


Catharine Reid
"Definite vamp, works events managing, least criminal business possible."
Come on, can you imagine anything sinister happening while someone plans an event?


Opallum
"Living homeless during an Unseelie winter, not human, demon?. Smells of smoke, all the time. One to watch."
Nicodem has been homeless himself often enough in his existence to not want to judge but it's god damned cold and Opallum doesn't seem to have noticed. One to watch indeed.


Andrew Mordekai
"Witch, smells of smoke all the time, fire? Activist leanings, should be watched for own protection."
Changing the world is all well and good but burning people is against the law for a reason.


Suriel White
"Reminds me of Ryan, unsure why. Healer, strangely good at job?"
We all need healers, occasionally, but Nicodem can't help but be suspicious of a success record like Doctor White's.


Miles Catrose
"Smells delicious, why? Plenty of bravery, lacks common sense. Occasionally in scuffles, nothing major."
Getting into fights at pubs isn't important enough to warrant the official attention of the Deputy Commissioner but Nicodem tries to notice everything.


Yukiko Abe
"Definite hints of foxes, some sort of fox werewolf? Investigate further, not pressing though."
Tattoo artists might be rock 'n' roll but they're generally not criminals.


Mona
"Walked through a wall, seems to be a ghost. Might need her murder solved? Ask if encountered again."
Nicodem has some other experience of ghosts who can't move on.


Faron Romane
"Definite Witch, possible drug user, likely to be small time."
Nicodem has no time for people who give in to physical addictions.


Nicolas Black
Star
"Smells like wet dog, likely a werewolf, also a good officer."
Werewolf, vampire, ghost, everyone except slackers are welcome in the Edgetoun police department.


Maggie Spencer-Adyemi
"Student, works a part time job. Smells of earth and plants, some sort of druid?"
The intricacies of Witchery are alien to Nicodem.


Megumi
"A child and a vampire. Old, much older than she seems. Should be watched as all children should."
Nicodem has never had children but instinctively wants to protect them as they are, by almost any definition, helpless.


Stefani Roche
"Another young vampire. Is a vampire choosing to target the young? Worrying."
Nicodem would be most displeased to find such a vampire. The other vampire would probably end up pretty damned displeased as well.


Ari Amari
"Smells of cats, might own cats, might be a werecat?"
Nicodem hasn't talked to Ari enough to pick up the intolerable air of smugness some people get from being old.


Katharine Haynes
"Student, works as a barista. No threat."
What? It you aren't a criminal or potentially dangerous, you don't get much space in the book.


Felix Underwood
"Publishes articles on the internet on witchery, definite witch. Unlikely to be a threat."
Not hiding terribly well, says the man that openly drinks rat blood.


Elise Callaghan
"Quiet, doesn't smell like food, no ideas yet, continue watching."
Do Sirens smell of anything other than human?


Claire O'Malley
"Teacher, possible witch? Continue watching."
Normally Nicodem wouldn't suspect teachers but he just finished watching Breaking Bad.


Barachiel Alexander Eamon
"Human? Strange but doesn't smell wrong and strange is normal today."
Using gender neutral pronouns are a new one on Nicodem but he's willing to learn.


Ethan Cooper
"Seems to be human but smells of wolf. Small mystery, solve in time."
Not high on the list of priorities, Aila is to be trusted in her judgement.


Alfie Liau
"Probably vampire, always smells of chocolate so blood and decay are masked."
Nicodem never thought of chocolate as masking agent.


Michael Harel
"Related to Michael? Can't work out how they're connected but they... feel similar."
They might not be quite the same but there's certainly something similar about the two of them.


Aila Atleo
Star
"Definitely a werewolf, I suspect violence in her past. Would make a damn good officer, must talk to Ryan about that."
Nicodem doesn't just watch people he suspects but also people he likes. Because he suspects them first.


Emerson Maddox
Skull
"Very self assured, apparently a lawyer, slimy enough to need watching."
One of the few jobs Nicodem has never tried; Lawyer. He has a prejudice.


Talia Halbrook
"Smiles like a demon and smells inhuman, could be up to no good with her housing business?"
Let's face it, you don't need a reason to be suspicious of a real estate agent.


Loki Van Stenberg
Skull
"Definite Vamp, old acquaintance, not to be trusted and almost certainly into something"
They met once, back in the day, and played a game of poker. Nicodem won but Loki cheated, something Nicodem hasn't forgotten or forgiven.


"Low Key", "The Kingpin", "Trickster
"Probable other, deals in narcotics for others, keeps his dealers at arms length. Smart, Ryan and I's no. 1 priority case."
We'll see how long it takes for things to come together.


Freddie Hughes-Jackson
"Most likely a witch, smells nervous all the time, up to something?"
Nerves don't necessarily mean criminality but they're a good indication.


Liam Woodsworth
"Definite Dhampire, seems to have a deathwish, fine by me."
Nicodem doesn't like Dhampires much. He doesn't like Vampires either but he has to put up with at least one.


Aiden Phillips
Skull
"Definite Vamp, apparently a doctor, check credentials, smells of blood from different creatures, no. 2 priority"
One explanation for the smell of different people and other types of blood on Aiden might be that he runs a small others only healing business. But it's not the one that jumps to a suspicious mind.


Ryan Croft
Big Star
"Smells human, isn't. Have tested silver and wolfsbane, not a werewolf at least. Needs further investigation."
He may live with him, work with him and owe him a lot but Nicodem still wants to know just what the hell Ryan is.


Eternity Illuria Loveless
"Human? Unsure, smells confusing, ice, cold, strange, tasty. Investigation pending."
Fae are not a common sight but Nicodem will work it out, eventually.


Patrick Kershner
Star
"Definite werewolf, tested with silver, good at his job, nervous. Needs help?"
Nicodem appreciates anyone who works well and only stings them with silver very lightly to make sure he's right. And now it's confirmed, he'd be happy to help any nervous young men with any problems they might have that can be resolved by a scarred, intimidating vampire.


Anastasia Psomas
"Not human, I don't think, feels wrong, no ideas on what she is though, investigation pending."
Phoenixes? Nicodem didn't know about fae until a few weeks ago, phoenixes are going to take a while.


James Bright
"Definite Ghost, wants own murder solved, priority no. 3, investigation ongoing."
Nicodem doesn't like murder and especially doesn't like murders that make the victim have to deal with the after effects.


Naomi Ishiguro
"One of the strangest others encountered. Smells human but also of insects, I think. Needs close watching."
Spiderwomen of obscure Chinese lore? Good luck with that one, Nicodem.


'Kei'
"Probable human, smells of... ice cream? Sweets? Strangely smells delicious. Seems unlikely to be a threat."
Nice people have nothing to fear from the police or, at least, this specific officer.


Zoey Alston
"Human. Young, impatient, headstrong, smells of alcohol and recreational drugs. No threat, minor offences"
Nicodem doesn't approve of recreational drug use but you're not getting dragged to the cells for it either, not unless you're distributing.


Ramiel
"Excessively friendly, extremely French. Human? Strikes me as very old but smells of human. And cake."
If Nicodem knew there were three Archangels wandering around Edgetoun, he'd start getting suspicious. Luckily for everyone, he doesn't.

All IC posts about or mentioning Nicodem.
Rise and Run
Breakfast
Further Breakfast
Still Breakfast
Breakfast Ends

Freddie Milton Hughes-Jackson

Location: Faraday Heights, 24B, Home
Interacting With: Eve Lumiére @Write

"When love breaks up, When the dawn light wakes up, A new life is born, Somehow I have to make this final breakthru . . . Now!

I wake up, Feel just fine, Your face, Fills my mind, I get religion quick, 'Cos you're looking divine

As strains of the one and only Freddie Mercury washed through the apartment from the media centre in the corner, the one and only Freddie Milton Hughes-Jackson opened his eyes to greet the new day. It took a few beats for his mind to sort itself out and then he felt a gentle tapping on his shoulder. Rolling over, he was greeted by the first magical sight of the day; a breakfast tray, complete with orange juice, a cloth handkerchief, buttered crumpets and a steaming cup of English Breakfast tea, hovering in the air over the bed. Still gently poking his shoulder was a small teaspoon, given the task of making sure he didn't knock over the tray and ruin the last hour's work of his animated household appliances. Even though he was woken up this way almost every day, Freddie couldn't help but grin. Magic, what a wonderful thing to have in your life.

He sat up, picked up the teaspoon, gently put it down on the tray and then eased the tray onto his lap. Sip the tea, nibble the crumpets, drink the orange juice and enjoy the continued pay off of a week's casting, experimentation, recasting of the different animations necessary to make sure that the food was not only made properly but delivered gently. During the testing period he'd been hit over the head many, many times by both the breakfast tray and the tea spoon. Still, no one said the path to the perfect breakfast was supposed to be easy. Speaking of the perfect breakfast, he got to work finishing his own off. Hmmm, the crumpets were well buttered but slightly overcooked, have to modify some of the spell parameters. Swallowing the last of the orange juice, Freddie put the tray aside (it immediately began to float towards the kitchen and wash itself), leapt out of bed and and showered. With personal hygiene out of the way, he came back to the bedroom and began choosing his outfit for the day. Wallace of Wallace and Gromit or a 1950s book clerk from Kent? Choices, choices.

Living breathing, Rock 'n' Roll, this never ending fight!

As Freddie reached the end of another song, Freddie spoke up. "Radio what's new, please" he said, staring at the media centre. It took half a second for the spells to translate his spoken commands into commands for the machine but then BBC Radio One came to life with its characteristic businesslike tone. "Outrage sparked on both sides of the debate over the emergence of the 'Others' today with the well publicised murder of Nick Bloodfang. The Werewolf was being held in captivity after the manslaughter of a young girl whose parents have chosen to keep anonymous and was today found dead in his cell. A group calling themselves Helsing have claimed responsibility on Youtube alongside posting a manifesto of Other persecution. According to this manifesto, this will be but the first of many deaths to come. We take you now to-". The voice stopped abruptly when Freddie threw the tea spoon at it, the universal command for animated objects in the flat to stop whatever they're doing.

Deftly tying his tie, Freddie swore quietly. Even in his own home, the seat of his power and independence, he didn't like to curse. But dammit all if every development in the outing of the Others hadn't made things worse and worse. The Unseelie trying to freeze Britain back into the dark ages, Vampires being chased away from bloodbanks (as if that's going to help anyone) and now this... It would try the patience of a saint.

RING RING RING RING RING

And speaking of patience... There are two phones in Faraday Heights 24B. One is Freddie's mobile, a stylishly modern contraption that's covered in arcane glyphs and eldritch scrawls that do everything from improve the battery life to guarantee free wifi, even underground. The other is an archaic lump of black plastic and ancient wiring that only rings when one person calls it. The ring is like the bells of doom, signalling the death of free will and the collapse of empire.

Freddie picked up the phone and said "Hi mum, how are you doing?"

Thereafter followed a brief exchange as well rehearsed as the script of any telemarketer. Cynthia Evergreen Hughes inquired after Freddie's health and happiness, Freddie told her he was fine. He asked how her and Marcus, his father, were doing, she told them they were tolerably well. She told him he really aught to be publishing another thesis on the myriad inaccuracies and inefficiencies of Berthault Batterton's treaties on the natural relationship between magic and electricity, he said that he'd get to work on it any day now. She asked him whether he had made any new friends in the same tone of voice she'd used when he was five, he said he could put many names to faces in the area. And so on and so on. He laughed when he was supposed to, she gave dry chuckles whenever he tried his hand at a joke. Upon leaving home, Freddie hoped that daily interrogations on his academic, physical and social well being would become a thing of the past. He had therefore been somewhat dismayed when his mum had presented him with a house warming present; a telephone that only she had the number to and enchanted to tell her whether he was in hearing distance of the phone.

When the conversation was finally done and Freddie had extracted himself from the verbal clutches of his mother, he gathered up his bag, keys and other affects before rapping twice on the wall by the front door and saying "But nothing's what it seems, please." At his words, the mass of animists tools, chalk, stardust, cutlery, cogs, gears and wires that occupied most of the floor and surface space in the flat flowed into a series of large plastic boxes which duly put on their own lids and slid under the bed. Just a precaution, should he be lucky (or should that be unlucky?) enough to have someone with him when he returned. He also had counter phrase to put everything back in the perfectly ordered mess he liked to work in.

His mood was still pretty grey when he stepped outside and locked the door. The combination of his mother's phone call and the awful news on the radio had done a good job of spoiling the honest satisfaction Freddie got from his morning wake up. He was therefore scowling when he turned around to see a statuesque beauty in a white towel and nothing else standing in the opposite doorway, some letters in her hand and a playful smirk on her lips. His next door neighbour, the ever enchanting and fantastically french Eve Lumiére, gave him a little wave.

"Ah Freddie, enchanté, how are you?"

"Uh... I'm good, yes, f-fine, good. You are? I mean, sorry, I mean, how're you?"

As most of his brain alternatively went into panic mode or melted in the heat of his embarrassment, he morosely reflected that it would be nice if every conversation was a well worked out as the one he constantly had with his mother. Even if you didn't like what was being said, at least you could say your parts without committing social suicide.

Barrett Member

Oh, the year was 1778...

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