Dervish

The Jolly Roughers ~ Dervish & MacabreFox

I've gotta do a post for FoC because I think I'm at the bottom of the pile for people who've since replied. o_o I'll try to do some associates, maybe do a bit for the Chief of Police ande what not. No rush on this game! I have a lot to catch up on elsewhere, too!

The Jolly Roughers ~ Dervish & MacabreFox

Shay's CS should be done. Do you need me to do write ups for any of the NPCs, or add some other ones?

Mass Effect: Borealis

Drono and Tanya still has a "Tanya licks Dronos face and tripps balls" scene to write!

@Hellis

Indeeed.

Also, anyone else have a team name they want to put into the hat?

Mass Effect: Borealis

EVERYONE ENJOY BEING ANALYZED BY SERENA1

@Rtron

RUDE

<Snipped quote by Rtron>

Hahaha Serena did the thing Dex promised not to do.

@DearTrickster

Oh, c'mon. We know Dex has a secret stash of everyone's dirty little secrets.

When the analysis starts with "Positively insane" you know its perfect.

That was fantasic to read.

@Hellis

Glad you enjoyed! Bonding time is best time.

Aye, a good read.

Hider

Captain does have a nice ring to it though...

@Zombiedude101

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Joke's on you, I just donated all of my innards to science.

In hindsight it was probably a bad idea.

@Frizan

I knew it.

Fucking synth.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

And we're over 200 posts. Bust out the confetti!

Actually, I got a better idea: how about we cut up Frizan and use his guts as confetti?

@gcold

I'll go get the Walmart brand hatchets.

Mass Effect: Borealis

Dervs and Morty in: A Krogan and Batarian go get groceries

~ ~ ~

It had been only a few days since the mercenary outfit formed, and already Tonka was enjoying the brief time allotted to escape the group at large, even for a few hours. Even though he was a accompanied by Khosin, the only batarian in the crew after an operation dedicated to wiping batarians out, the krogan couldn't help but feel that Khosin elected to join him because as far as racial tension went, there really wasn't any. Tonka wasn't like Tanya or Iosif, who had experienced the horrors of slavery first hand, and the batarians weren't responsible for the atrocities committed against the krogan. Considering how long their two species had shared time on the galactic stage, it was an oddly amicable relationship, probably due to the intense isolation that both Kharshan and Tuchanka enjoyed or were subjected to.

Tonka had taken some time after the operation to secure a pair of cages meant to transport varren to stuff the prisoners in while they waited transport to Alliance custody, and Tanya left her drone on guard duty, making the deliverance of those assholes about as a nonissue as one could get. The krogan quite enjoyed slapping the heaviest padlocks he could find on the cages and throwing snacks meant for varren pets at them through the slits, and carrying on his way while the idiots screamed themselves hoarse, in about as cramped and indignified positions as possible.

So, after repairing his armour to the best of his ability and replacing the undersuit with one of this three spares, Tonka left to the local cityscape of Nova Principium, one of the many municipalities dotted across Omega's interior and the one where the Borealis found itself docked. While it wasn't an entirely lawless hellhole like Omega was infamous for, it definitely had a wildly anti-establishment vibe, likely due to the fact that this particular sector was founded by turian separatists from the colony worlds that had risen up against Palaven centuries ago and were subjugated. Those not wishing to be put under rule again were forced to flee to the Terminus Systems, where they set up something like a government in exile. Hundreds of years later, its original purpose forgotten and founders long dead, members of all species could be found in the streets, although a distinctly turian feel remained in the city, the streets bearing the names of the founders, the oldest architecture and shops retaining turian names and goods, and the majority of the populace of course, being turians. Being an obviously dextro-friendly locale, no small amount of quarians had settled here, both pilgrims and exiles.

A group of children, mostly human and asari with a pair of salarians, cut them off chasing a ball through the streets. Tonka eyed them suspiciously. "Keep an eye on your pockets. Little shits are just as likely to be pickpockets as they are to be having fun. So, how do you feel about our merry band of idiots?" he asked Khosin.

Khosin looked around as they walked through Nova Principium. Despite his time spent on Omega he had never been to the district in which they were now. The slow pace of their walk gave him time to reflect on the days after the mission against the Twin Suns; he had taken the time to repair his armor and to bandage the wound that he had gotten from the Kishock shot. The fact that they had turned their bounties in to the Alliance bothered him, his blood boiling at the sight of the bastards but, luckily, he had managed to keep his temper in check as they handed them their prisoners. He was brought out of his silent contemplation when Tonka spoke to him, telling him to keep an eye on his pocket as they walked near the children that were playing-

"Oh, I know, don't worry, keeping one of my eyes looking at their general direciton, if they try to pickpocket me, I'll know." Said Khosin, chuckling a little at Tonka's question on how he felt about their merry band of idiots "Hmm, well, for one I am pleasantly surprised that there were no incidents of friendly fire." He said drily, chuckling once more "I suppose that when I saw how Tanya and Iosif looked at me that I was going to wind up with a bullet between each pair of eyes." He said with a light shrug.

"But, in all honesty, I think that this group could work half decently if we put enough effort into it." He explained to the Krogan "It was a bit of a shame that so many left during our first mission as a team but I suppose that means those who have stayed are committed" He said as they walked through Nova Principium, turning his face to look at Tonka "What about you? How do you feel about our merry band of idiots?" He asked him, shooting his question back at him. He had to admit, he was rather curious about what the Krogan thought of their group.

"Heh, can't blame the lot that decided to hightail it out of here. In all likelihood, they're off enjoying their shiny new asari frigate, and we're wondering when the bulkhead is going to rupture on our little freighter. Their whole reason for being here died when Captain Dumbass decided to break his neck in the most pedestrian way imaginable." Tonka remarked, glancing over at the batarian beside him with a lingering green eye. "I wouldn't worry too much about Carson and Svenchenko, both of them are military vets, that counts for something. They might hate you with every fiber of their being, but so long as you're breaking Harvester Thorax with them and working for the same team, they'd keep that hate to angry stares and harsh words. If you can deal with that, you're fine.

"As for the team? Not a bad bunch, in truth. Even our suicidally angry quarian has her uses, so long as she doesn't hear the words 'Blue' and 'Sun' in the same sentence. Nobody really knows how to work together, trust isn't really there, but we managed to pull through a mission without losing anyone, so there’s potential.” Tonka replied with a shrug. The pair were approaching a foot bridge that crossed a chasm where skycar traffic moved through the harrowing canyon at uncomfortably high speed. It occurred to Tonka they’d need some way of transporting the goods to the ship.

"Hmmm, I suppose you are right, Tonka." Said Khosin when the Krogan mentioned that he couldn't blame the members of the crew that left on their decision. Tonka was right of course, the whole venture of the Borealis wasn't one that was very promising, the death of Captain Luzami having made the situation worse. But he had given his word to the deceased captain, and Khosin wasn't a Batarian who was willing to break his word even if he had made it to a man who was dead. "I suppose I don't like going back on my word. Know it sounds pretty stupid, what with Luzami being dead, but I am a man of my word, as I said." He explained to the Krogan "What about you? Why didn't you hightail it out of the Borealis with the rest of them?" He asked curiously, letting out a sigh when Tonka mentioned Tanya and Iosif. "True enough, but it's harder to work effectively with someone that utterly loathes you. For example, I don't think they'd put themselves at risk to save me either. Not that I can blame them, they barely know me and their first impression on me is a rather negative one on account of being a Batarian. Plus, hate can lead you to make stupid decisions as well so I prefer to be cautious." He explained as they walked through Nova Principium.

Khosin nodded at what Tonka said on the team, agreeing with him on his assessment of the group "Yeah, there's potential like you said. But it's up to us whether or not we squander it." He said, turning to look at the skycar traffic that went over the foot bridge that crossed the nearby chasm. He looked around the area, the sudden thought on how they'd transport the goods to the ship having come to his mind aroudn the same time as Tonka. "Hey, look at that, skycar rental office." Said Khosin as he pointed at an office, a neon sing of a skycar on it's entrance, with his hand "Think we have enough credits? We could rent a skycar to bring back the goods we buy, or we could steal one, whatever you think it's best." He said with a shrug, any option was fine with him. They were in Omega, and so he doubted that there would be too much ruckus over a stolen skycar he thought. Or perhaps I've been in the worst parts of Omega for too long. He thought drily as he waited for Tonka to say something.

"Skycar's a bit small. We're going to need at least supplies for 3 weeks, preferably more. Trying to cram more than a few day's worth of rations for a crew our size is going to take more than a car. Plus, those things are expensive and stupid. I think there's probably somewhere where we can get one of those cargo haulers, the small guys that are meant for field shit, and see if we can't rent one or buy it outright, if it's not too expensive. Probably way out of our budget, I think they cost around 12-13 thousand credits for something that's new." Tonka said, continuing on. He chuckled, returning to what Khosin asked earlier.

"Why didn't I run? Let's just say I've been too successful. Had a secure job, good pay, and I had recognition. For most people, that's what they want, then they settle down. I got bored, so I deliberately looked for the most inexperienced crew classified I could find and I decided to see what the other end of the spectrum looks like, where failure is almost guaranteed. It is a lot more entertaining, and I'm not wanting for money, so the stakes for me are less than pretty much everyone else. I could leave at any time and not really be worse off for it, but I'm enjoying myself, even when rogue quarians try to kill half the team." The krogan replied, following a sign that seemed to be pointing to the industrial district. Usually on the border between commercial and industrial areas, there were services that went beyond the kinds of things you'd buy at a mall.

Khosin listened as Tonka spoke, chuckling a little when the Krogan told him why he had stayed with the crew of the Borealis. "Must be a tad disappointed then, what with our first mission being a success and all." He joked, laughing a little bit. "I'll endeavor to make the next mission more interesting, perhaps I'll bandage one pair of eyes to throw off my aim." He said drily, finding the banter with Tonka to be amusing -not to say refreshing after the tense conversation he had with Tanya back on the mission- to say the very least. He followed Tonka to the industrial district, his eyes scanning for any place where they could buy or rent a small cargo hauler.

When they were deep into the industrial district he stopped Tonka, an idea having occurred him "Hey, Tonka, so you say that buying a new cargo hauler would be too expensive, right?" Asked the Batarian "And I agree, 12-13 thousand credits for a cargo hauler that we'll only use when we get supplies for the crew is too expensive but what if we bought a used one?" He said, crossing his arms over his chest "Sure, it'd still be expensive but think of it as an investment. I mean, I'd prefer to have a vehicle at the ready in the logn run than having to rent one each time we have to do supply runs, plus I am guessing that in the long run it'd be cheaper too. Wouldn't you agree?" Said Khosin, scratching his chin a little bit as he waited for Tonka's comment on his idea, his eyes still scanning the surrounding area of the industrial district in search of a shop where they could either rent a hauler or buy an used one.

"We have a bit of space, but we already have a cargo hauler and trailer, but they need parts before they're serviceable, and we have a skid steer, which would move so slowly it would take us all day to get it there and back. We'll just have to rent or borrow one, and bring it back in one piece." The krogan said.

The pair continued on some time before stumbling across an equipment rental shop, a fenced off yard holding anything from small excavators to trailers and everything in between. A small fleet of utility trucks from all kinds of makes and manufactures were lined up in a row with care. "Well, let's see what they have inside."

"Ah, yeah, you are right, slipped out of my mind that we had a cargo hauler in the Borealis, well hopefully we'll get some parts to repair it soon." The batarian said as he continued to walk with Tonka. When they finally found an equipment rental shop Khosin simply nodded at Tonka's words, entering into the rental place alongside the krogan.

It took a while but eventually he and Tonka managed to convince the owner of the shop, an aging Turian, to rent them an old cargo hauler, although Khosin was sure that the old man had charged them more than normal for the old vehicle. "Well, now we have something to transport the goods back to the Borealis. Any idea what are the most pressing supplies that our little crew needs?" Asked Khosin, hoping to buy only the essential and not waste any more extra credit than they already had in renting the old cargo hauler.

"Food." the krogan said simply. "I'm sure we can go buy in bulk if we look hard enough. Probably will have to stock up on non-perishables, like freeze-dried food and canned goods. Water's essential, obviously. Need to make sure about 20% of our purchase is dextro-friendly. Let's go find what we need." he said, climbing into the hauler's driver seat and adjusting it for his comparative size. It was a bit crammed, but Tonka could manage. When Khosin climbed aboard, the two set out into Nova Principium's streets.

Several minutes later, the pair came across a retailer that was exactly what they needed, 'Principium District Bulk Goods and Starship Supplies'. They pulled their vehicle up to park, and after securing it, headed into the store, taking a pair of large carts with removable bins up and down the isles, which were separated by species, and even further by colonies. Tonka grabbed a metal keg with a cartoon hanar on it, promising a children's breakfast paste. "You know, I've always been afraid to ask how a hanar eats, exactly, but I'm even more afraid to open this can to find out." he slid it back where it belonged and they carried on. "I thinking we should do something fresh, actually cook a proper meal for the crew, have dinner together. After the mission, I think there should be something to feel good about. Everyone seems to be rather peturbed for whatever reason. I don't know why they're complaining; I'm the one who got impaled by his own armour." he said, finding a large package of dehydrated and freeze dried cattle strips. He tossed the package into the bin.

"Hmmm, yeah, food's key. Guess the others will take care of the other things that we need." Said Khosin, nodding at Tonka's suggestion on buying in bulk and stocking up on non-perishables "Hmm, true enough we need to keep in mind to buy dextro food as well." He said as he climbed into the co-pilot's seat as Tonka took the driver's, the streets of Nova Principium surrounding them as Tonka searched for a retailer in which they could buy supplies in bulk.

Khosin was relieved when it took them only a few more minutes to find a retailer that would cater to their needs but was a little perplexed when he noticed that interior of the store was not only separated by such categories as species but by their colonies as well "Never understood the Turian's obsession with colonies." He mumbled, shaking his head slightly as he walked through the isles of the shop alongisde Tonka. He chuckled a litle at the krogan's word "Hmm, you know, now that I think of it I'm also curious about how hanar eat" The batarian said, chuckling a little "Maybe we could ask Drono? As far as I know the remaining drell population are rather close to the Hanar." He said as he picked on some non-perishable food

"So, it's either open that package or ask our resident drell, your choice Tonka." He said, chuckling a little as Tonka put the metal keg back on it's place. "Hmmm, sounds like a good idea Tonka." He said, a little surprised by the krogan's suggestion but agreeing to it nonetheless "Might be a tad difficult with the dextros in the crew but I think it'd be worth it, plus like you said could lift the spirits of everyone." He said as he tossed a package of dehydrated and freeze dried fish into the bin.

Tonka glanced over at the batarian and gave him a slow blink. "Your own people have colonies. Humans have colonies, and salarians, hanar, volus, and asari all have colonies. Hell, even the elcor have a couple. We krogan did, too, and then we decided to try to take everything because we couldn't support our population. Whoops." he said, turning back to the shelves.

"Thing is, on each planet, they have their own unique little ecosystem and crops and animals and whatever else you can think of, few things are universal. The reason things are separated into colonies like this isn't so much a pride thing as saying that if you have a taste for something from home, here it is, accept no substitutes." he snorted a laugh at the idea of asking Drono about anything insightful. "I'm pretty sure our drell is baffled enough at his own day to day life that paying attention to what the hanar get up to might be a bit much for him to pick at. Personally, it's not a mystery I need solved. I kind of like the idea of there being some mystery left in the galaxy, even if that mystery is hanar dietary habits."

They continued on, stocking up their cart with various goods before finding the fresh foods section. "Won't be that hard, I've had to cater to mixed species teams before. You just have to keep the food on seperate trays and not mix things or cook with the same stuff. We can make it work." he said, eyeing up some bundles of fruits. "Salad. I want a salad. Grill up some pyjak breast and sprinkle on some Thessian nuts and you're having a good time."

"True enough, but you don't see every batarian, human, salarian, elcor, etc, painting their faces with a colony symbol." Said Khosin drily as he picked something and threw it on the bin but nodded on what Tonka said next "Fair enough, I suppose it makes sense in that aspect but, even so, you have to admit that turians are, in general, rather fixated with their colonies" He commented before laughing at what the krogan said next.

"True enough I suppose, on both accounts." The batarian said, chuckling a little as he pondered on Tonka's words a little "You know...now that you mention it I often forget how big the galaxy is, we Batarian's tend to live most of our life in Kite's Nest, so we often...how to put it, don't see any mystery to the galaxy I suppose. There's the Hegemony, the human's are the enemies, bla bla, repeat ad nauseam." He muttered, shaking his head a little "Sorry about that, got me thinking a little." He said as he looked over the stalls, trying to see if there was anything that could be used for a batarian dish.

"Hmmm, have you worked with many teams in your life?" Asked Khosin curiously as he picked a pack of fresh pyjak meat and put it in the bin at the krogan's comment on having some of it with a seasoning of Thessian nuts. "Hmmm, we should probably pick some drinks as well." He said, noticing a pack of batarian ale and putting it on the bin alongside the rest of the supplies.

"Cultural thing." Tonka said. "They're proud of their homes and customs, and given how rigid turian society is, being able to identify as something different than the Hierarchy is important to them. They've had a few rebellions against Palaven, from what I understand. The colony facial markings were a quick and easy way to tell who was a colonist and who was a 'Bare-face', as they call them back on Palaven. Of course, the rebellions keep failing, but the Hierarchy decided to let them keep their facial markings as a sense of identity.

"It's not unlike how on Tuchanka each of the clans has their own Rite of Passage. My clan, Ravanor, sends its unblooded off into the wastes to find something useful for the territory and clan, usually abandoned machinery and weapons. Quarians do something similar with their flotilla. Urnot sends their unblooded against an arena of wildlife while trying to draw a thresher maw to the Rite. Forsan, from what I've heard, has unblooded fight vorcha into submission. It's all violent, desperate, but it's who we are, and we're all different." Tonka explained. He looked at Khosin with interest. "The Hegemony is pretty big on the propaganda and brainwashing, aren't they? I imagine it was kind of a shock for you to get out into the galaxy at large where the news is less biased. But yeah, I worked with a few teams, most for the same company. There's a difference between professionals and whatever it is we have on the Borealis, let me tell you."

"Hmm, yeah, I suppose you are right. Batarian's usually only have one cultural identity, that is to say the Hegemony." Said Khosin, listening with attention at the Krogan's words "If you don't mind me asking, where did you pick so much knowledge about Turian culture?" He asked curiously, listening as Tonka moved on to the topic of the different rites of passage of various krogan's clans "Hmmm, reminds me of training in the Hegemony's military, the violence I mean, instructors can be quite harsh and it's more often than not a fight for survival, with each man on his own." Commented Khosin thoughtfully. He chuckled bitterly at Tonka's question, more like a statement, on the Hegemony's heavy use of propaganda and brainwashing

"Yes and no. Oh, sure, the propaganda is there but it's far easier to appeal to, say, a bitter kid on the streets with nothing but hate and vengeance for the Alliance." He said. "For example, who do you think would be easier to manipulate. A random kid who, sure enough, has grown listening to propaganda or a kid who lost everything due to the Hegemony losing a planet to the Alliance's colonization, who do you think is more easily brainwashed?" Asked Khosin, taking a breath to calm down "As for the shock of entering an ambient where there's less bias, I'd say it was more being confronted to the idea that not everyone was an enemy that was more shocking. Might be me though." He said with a shrug, picking another package and throwing it into the bin, chuckling in a more good natured manner at his comment on the Borealis crew. "Oh, believe me, I know. So you worked for a company before joining our little crew?"

"My old employer was an asari entrepreneur who was building a manufacturing empire across the Terminus, so her representatives came to Tuchanka looking for a few krogan who were willing to do some good work for good pay. I ran into people from across the galaxy, and I've always been observant. Best way to know how to beat somebody is to understand them, and a lot of pirates are turian expats who got sick of the Hierarchy's shit. So I read up on them, partially because I wanted to know what motivated them, and also the goofy face squiggles had me curious. If something catches my eye, I want information. It's part of why I'm a good sniper, I'm patient and think information is more powerful than a bullet. So, I toured across the Terminus Systems as an anti-piracy expect and security and believe me, I got to see a lot of idiots try their luck. I never kept track, but I'd say a good average for pirate attacks is twice a month? Anyways, I killed a lot of people who bet on the wrong ship." Tonka explained, steering them towards the drink isle and wondering if they shouldn't invest in a new potable water tank.

Grabbing armfuls of water jugs and sports drinks, he answered Khosin's question. "The kid that's easier to manipulate is the one who has nothing to lose. Trust me, I know desperation. A lot of krogan would murder their own brothers for slightly better living conditions, and most gangs and crime syndicates prey on the poor and needy for their grunt work. However, someone who was well off growing up only being able to listen to government propaganda, even if you were skeptical, how can you make an informed decision when that's all you hear?"

"Ah, I see. Seems you've led an interesting life, Tonka, if I might say so." Commented Khosin, rather surprised by what the krogan had told him, as he followed Tonka to the drink isle, his eyes scanning the isle for anything that they should take. "Also, I do have to agree on what you said about information, used properly it can be more powerful than a bullet." He said as he picked a few water jugs and then sport drinks and put them on the bin.

However when Tonka answered his comment he chuckled bitterly once more "Correct, and for the reason you have mentioned though they are not the only ones all the time." He said in response to Tonka's comment, listening to the rest of what he said. "True enough on all accounts Tonka but I think you are missing the point somewhat." He said with a sigh. "True enough, the pampered kid won't be able to form an informed decision but, the thing is...he'll stay on Khar'shan, or whatever planet he was born, and do nothing much else, perhaps help develop Batarian State Arms if he is feeling patriotic enough." Said Khosin, his fingers gripping a jug of water that he was putting on the bin a bit harder than necessary. "But what do you think will happen to the pissed off kid that was in the streets? He'll join the Hegemony's military, perhaps the Special Intervention Unit or the External Forces if he's particularly talented, but in the end they'll burn out and what do you think will happen next Tonka?" Asked the Batarian, his shoulders slumping forward as if he was suddenly tired although the moment lasted for no more than a few seconds. "Sorry about that little outburst, just some old wounds that still need some time to heal. I hope I didn't bother you too much." Said Khosin once he had managed to reigning his emotions back in.

The krogan shrugged his massive shoulders, doing a quick inventory check and deciding they were pretty much there. "No skin off my back. If I spent as much time worrying about what kind of dumb shit the rest of my species was up to as you do yours, I think one of my hearts would have failed by now. Some advice; don't give a shit, about any of it. You only can control what you do, and in the end, it's enough. Trillions of people in the galaxy, there's bound to be a lot of them that need a bullet up the ass, but one step at a time."

The pair headed to the checkout clerk, which happened to be a VI of all things, which made an impossibly quick inventory of the items and presented the price on a terminal. "I've got this." Tonka said, activating his own omni-tool, the payment going through. It was from his own accounts. Well, one of three he maintained. He watched the automatic door slide open, allowing them to exit the store now they had paid. "Don't tell anybody I did that. I wouldn't want them thinking I'm nice. I have a reputation to uphold. That, and I'm probably going to eat like, half of the food we bought." he grinned, pushing the cart along towards their rented mule of a truck. "So, one more stop before we head on home. I'm getting a damn grill."

Khosin nodded at Tonka's words "Yeah, I suppose you are right." He said as he followed the krogan to the checkout clerk. He was a bit surprised when Tonka paid all of their groceries from his own pocket "Yeah, don't worry about it Tonka, won't tell a soul." He said, chuckling a little on his comment on having a reputation to uphold and on eating half of what they bough. He nodded silently on the comment about getting a grill, climbing into the co-pilot's seat of the hauler as he did so.

Mass Effect: Borealis

The collabs are gr8 btw. I less than three you guys.

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

I'm just waiting on Hank in the collab. I will have it up in two days regardless.

The Jolly Roughers ~ Dervish & MacabreFox

Shay Alden

"I need to do right by my family, even if they don’t know who I am."

Nickname(s): Paddy, Mick, Sharps
Gender: Male
Birthplace: Cork, Ireland
Birthday: January 14, 1898
Affiliations:

-Lance Corporal (Retired) South Irish Horse, C Squadron and 49th Infantry Brigade.

-Cousin to the Wallis brothers

-John Alden: Father, former member of the Jolly Roughers, current carpenter. Fled to Ireland shortly after murdering the Crown Prosecutor. Complicated relationship with Shay, who believes the man to be a coward for having fled his family.

-Maggie Alden: Mother, seamstress. Fled to Ireland with her husband after he became a wanted man. Cordial relationship with Shay, still keep in touch via correspondence.
-Lizzy Alden: Sister, student. Fled to Ireland with the rest of the family. Cordial relationship with Shay, still keep in touch via correspondence.

-Reginald Samuel: Civilian employer, retired Captain of the London Regiment. Cordial working relationship with Shay, a mutual respect from military history and appreciation for hard work.

Role: Street-Rat. Acts as enforcer and marksman.
Occupation: Brick Layer for Samuel & Sons Construction Company

Skills:

-Qualified marksman with a rifle
-War veteran, experienced in both cavalry and infantry style fighting
-Has been playing fiddle since he was 4 years old
-Knows how to operate a motor vehicle
-Athletic physique; in addition to his military conditioning, Shay is an accomplished runner

Assets:

-.303 SMLE Mk. III rifle, Sniper Variant with 1915 pattern sights.
-.455 Webley Mk. V Revolver
-.303 Winchester model 1895
-A trench knife
-A pocket watch, initially belonging to his grandfather
-Lives pay cheque to paycheque
-Small three-room apartment

Personality:
Quiet, methodical and something of a wallflower, Shay is a man who is adept at escaping notice or interest due to his lack of words for strangers or initiative in most conversations. Being widely discriminated against due to his nationality, Shay has learned to simply keep his mouth shut and speak when spoken to. Since actions speak louder than words, Shay has a reputation for being a quiet professional who gets things done, and is willing to do just about anything that’s needed of him. He feels the only way he’s ever going to be truly accepted by anyone other than Clint and Grant Wallis, as well as Eli Lindsay, whom procured an American imported Winchester Model 1895 lever action rifle for Shay.

For those Shay does call friend, his is fiercely loyal and is more than willing to kill and fight on their behalf, and he already has. He is often trusted to look after relatives, and other people of interest, and he extends the same devotion to these charges as they are often relations to the people he cares for. Shay is often credited as being dependable, and he cares deeply about doing a good job, going about his duties with the greatly diminished Jolly Roughers with the same pride and dedication as the South Irish Horse.

Shay comes most alive when he plays his fiddle, feeling it is as much a source of who he is as his ability behind the action of a rifle. It is one of the few times he feels admired by strangers, and though he’s reluctant to admit it, the thing he craves most is not wealth or power, but acceptance and love. The Tawdy Countess is one of the few places he feels he can be himself, and he is often most outgoing there, enjoying games of darts and with drink, people are far more accepting of him.

Shay is very likely dependent on drink and smoking, although that is not uncommon for many men of his age, especially those trying to leave the horrors of war behind them. However, many who do not know him, and many who do, would not see the signs of a troubled young man who struggles with his place in the world, his faith, and the haunting memories of two years of war, but rather a quiet, unassuming man who is all too quiet to disappear from notice, the very essence of a professional criminal.

Weaknesses/Flaws/Secrets:

-Trouble sleeping: Shay has been through the closest thing to hell on earth as there had ever been in history, and it was night that was when he spent much of his time on the front hunting Germans. When he tries to close his eyes, he more often than not is haunted by the faces of the men he’s killed, and in truth, many of them were boys. Because of this, he does not get the rest he really needs.

-Shellshock: Loud noises, yelling, sudden bright lights, and other surprising things are quick to make Shay react as if he were still at war, looking for threats that aren’t there, although this has kept him safe from rival gang members on a few occasions. He is also paranoid at strange, sharp scents that had indicated a gas attack for two years.

-Heavy smoker and drinker: Shay has vices, and he copes with his trauma through hard liquor and cigarette smoke. He tries not to do either unless invited to or he feels the need to calm down, but he isn’t the carefree and lighthearted man he once was.

-Ease of killing: While some would consider this a strength, Shay has a part of himself that loathes the fact it has become so easy for him to take a man’s life. Dozens of graves are from his steady hands and sharp eyes, and he does not hesitate to pull the trigger when the time comes. It has made him a lethal and professional asset of the Jolly Roughers, but Shay cannot help but feel that each time he kills a man, he’s tearing out a piece of his soul.

-Troubled Protestant: While Shay was never a devoted religious man, he did enjoy going to church as a boy and felt God’s love. After experiencing the horrors of the war, Shay’s faith and convictions are shaky at best, if not outright shattered. He finds it hard to reconcile that a loving God would allow men to commit such barbarism against one another, and he feels that now he’s become a killer, first as a soldier and now as a gangster, that his soul is damned. A big part of him wants to simply renounce his faith to ease his conscience, the other part of him wants to try to make amends to his God and try to repent for what he has done.

-Lonely: If Shay felt like an outsider in Ireland, he feels outright loathed and oftentimes hated in London. Boasting very few friends and acquaintances, Shay even deals with hardship within his own gang. It is likely a symptom of his resentment of his inability to be accepted anywhere that makes it all too easy to take a life; if people hate him, he’ll hate them right back. He misses his mother and sister and wishes they’d join him in London, but he feels that perhaps they do not like where his life has led him.

Appearance:


A handsome man standing at 5’10” and carrying a well-toned body of a soldier, Shay has medium-length black hair, cut short at the sides and brushed back with product atop his head, which coupled with his short shorn beard, gives him a rugged and practical appearance. His fingers are often stained from cigarette and revolver smoke, and he carried piercing blue eyes that are both sallow and haunted. His ears are small and tight; his lobes flush with his neck and cartledge with no hanging flesh to speak of. His nose is straight and narrow, and his eyebrows symmetrical with the rest of his face, save for a small bald patch that bisects his right eyebrow.

Shay’s manner of dress is practical, preferring muted colours like browns and greys with simple button down shirts and a well-worn black peacoat he’d been wearing since before he enlisted in the army. He still wears his army issue boots, although they are largely concealed by his pant legs, and suspenders hug his frame. In the colder months, he wears a grey scarf, tied loosely around his neck, and that conceals his features.

History:
Born in Cork, Ireland, Shay Alden grew up unaware of his family’s roots and history past his parents’ obviously English accents. By all accounts, Shay was a passible student and a well behaved child, although he often endured bullying on account of his English heritage. Taunted for being Protestant in a predominantly Catholic country where anti-English sentiment was growing at a fevered pitch, Shay had few real friends growing up, and he grew to be a fighter out of necessity; and his father’s teachings.

While John Alden never spoke of his family ties or why the family moved from London to Cork, it became clear to Shay at a young age that there was more to his father than being a simple carpenter. His father was powerful, quick to anger, and any attempt to pry information about London often ended up with Shay enduring a severe backhand. While John was a fierce and bitter individual, he was always quick to apologize and tried to at least make amends to his son. While they had a strained relationship, it wasn’t without love, and John Alden did try to do right by Shay and his wife, Maggie, who bore Shay a sister two weeks after his birthday on January 28, 1901.

Maggie Alden was everything John was not; affectionate, kind, and concerned about her children’s lives to a fault. It was hard for her to adapt to Ireland, and it broke her heart each time she saw Stay stumble home with a black eye or split lip. While the family was fairly poor and making ends meet, she still managed to find money for decent meals and new clothing, as well as a handful of gifts for birthdays and Christmas time. Shay felt safe coming home because of his mother, and even into her elder years, he tried to keep her in his life, even if just by correspondence.

Shay’s best friend and confidant growing up was his sister, Lizzy, who he fiercely protected from bullying herself as she endured much of the same prejudice he had. A smart girl, and one that was clearly going to grow up to be a beautiful woman, Lizzy nevertheless maintained a cheerful optimism and warm disposition. Her and Shay would race through the streets near the canal that bisected the city, as well as spend a considerable amount of time by the waterfront, Lizzy often reading or writing stories in her well-worn journals, and Shay practicing his fiddle, one of the few highlights of his upbringing that his father had passed onto him that also endeared him to the locals somewhat. What he felt like a foreigner in his own country a lot of the time, it was music that made him Irish.

It was music that endeared people to invite him to play in pubs, even though he was far too young to drink, and it was in one of these clubs that his fiddle had endeared him to Old Man Conklin, who offered Shay a job working at the docks when he hit his teens. The spring following his 13th birthday, Shay started work unloading and loading ships, the tiring and heavy work making him physically powerful and paying enough that he had aspirations of a better life, perhaps even travelling and earning a living through music and entertainment. It was from that decision that Shay began to put money aside to go to the theater, which he managed to go twice a month, and he became enraptured with plays and acting.

He was close to graduating secondary school when the great war broke out, and at 16 years old, he watched the mood of Cork change considerably. Many of the men went off to enlist, and much of the industry seemed to stop. The docks grew quiet, the plays stopped, and for Shay, it felt like the earth was standing still. It seemed that everyone had something to give to this war, to serve King George V and the British Empire against the Kaiser’s marauding armies. The idea of adventure gripped Shay, but he was turned away from the recruitment office for being too young. Shay also noticed his father seemed to shy away from the public eye, and the war; it was at this time that Shay begun to think of his father as a coward and a pathetic man who turned his back on his country, as well as the family Shay never knew.

One day in the month of October 1915, Shay discovered a letter in the postage addressed to his father from a rather unfamiliar name; Clinton Wallis. Resentful enough at his father, Shay opened the letter and was shocked at what he discovered; this Clinton Wallis was his cousin, and he was telling “Uncle Johnny” that his mother had passed away from tuberculosis and he needed to come home to help run the family, a gang called the “Jolly Roughers”, now that his father Adam had grown ill as well.

Confronting his father about this and demanding answers about his family, Shay and John fought, a skirmish that had broken several pieces of furniture and picture frames, prompting Shay to flee his home and return to the recruiters. Now the war had gone on for over a year, the recruiter did not ask too many questions when Shay assured him he was 18 years of age. When Shay returned home next, he was holding his enlistment papers for the South Irish Horse and he would be leaving in the morning to the barracks. His mother, devastated, begged him not to go, although Lizzy was more understanding and gave Shay one of her finished stories to keep him comforted in the months to come. He did not speak to his father, nor make eye contact. To Shay, John Alden was less than a man.

After only 4 weeks of grueling training later, Shay was shipped off to Flanders, France, and the horrors of the Great War. It was during the Battle of the Somme where Shay would experience the greatest, and most horrific, trial of his life, having endured the desperation of trench warfare, the terrifying constant shelling and wave attacks of screaming German soldiers, and most devastatingly, the introduction of chemical gas attacks that caused many of his comrades to succumb to death in gruesome and utterly incomprehensible deaths. It was impossible not to be afraid of the very air they breathed. Writing home to his mother and sister, Shay assured them he was fine, and left out details of what life in the trenches was like, and what it was costing. He did not want them worrying about him, and the troops were forbidden to write about the realities of war, as the potential demoralization of the people at home could sabotage the war effort.

One of Shay’s natural gifts, as it turned out, was precision with a rifle. Earning top marks in his class during boot camp in marksmanship, Shay proved himself during the battle, having demonstrated an air of cool under fire and what seemed like a supernatural ability to always hit his target. Ten rounds at a time through his SMLE, ten Germans dropped. When asked about this by the officer who had observed him, Shay didn’t think anything of it; dozens of meters practically filled the sights, it was impossible to miss, he said. It didn’t take long after his unit was recalled to the reserve trenches for downtime that Shay was called off and sent to train as a sniper to hone his marksmanship skills; and his ability to avoid the keen eyes of other snipers. Receiving only a couple weeks of extra training, Shay enjoyed another week of rest before being sent back to the front, only this time, his war was comfortably behind the trenches and no longer joining in the wasteful charges that defined the war.

By the time the war had ended, Shay was credited with a handful of citations, and was credited for the deaths of a dozen machine-gunners, 2 enemy snipers, and 42 confirmed kills of Central Power soldiers of other ranks. The war had taken a grievous toll on Shay, and he had become somewhat dependant on drink to cope with the horrors he had endured; he refused to smoke until well after the war because of the well-ingrained fear that cigarette embers would draw enemy sniper fire his way. He’d seen it happen far too many times; in fact, many of the men he’d killed had simply been smoking. It was only after the war had ended that he’d accepted his first cigarette, something he found greatly calmed his nerves and steadied his hands.

Shay returned home early 1919, and he had purchased his weapons from the war, feeling a kinship with them for having protected him from 2 years of intense warfare. It was now that he’d realized how unstable the situation at home had become; anti-English sentiment reached a turning point in 1916 when rebels rose up against the British rule, and the public backlash against the execution of the rebel leaders by British authorities was ferocious. Ireland was now murmuring of independence, and it seemed Britain’s hold over the country was slipping, its resolve weakened after such a costly war. Reuniting with his mother and sister, Shay still resented his father, who had managed to avoid conscription up until the last year of the war when the war office managed to catch up with him. Shay decided that he needed to find his family in London, the one his father had abandoned, because he sure as hell didn’t feel like Ireland wanted him. After trying to convince his mother and sister to come to London with him and failing, Shay booked passage to England, which did not cost him a penny thanks to the ferry’s support of returning veterans, and with the letter that had burst the bubble on his heritage in hand, Shay found his way to London to track down the Jolly Roughers.

Within a week of hard searching, Shay had found himself at the Tawdy Countess seated across from Clinton Wallis, who was reading the words he had written years before. Through the haze of cigarette smoke, the middle son of Adam Wallis regarded the Irishman with his father’s eyes with appreciation.

“I asked for your father and got my cousin instead. Welcome to the family, Shay.”