User has no status, yet


User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Kiááyo Tatanka

This was not how her triumphant return was supposed to go. When The Woman With Two Names set out for the Old World with a ticking biological clock hanging over her head like an ax and the intent to return with an army, she hadn't expected her return home to be marred by violent storms. Long stretches of boredom? Seemed likely. Battles against rival seadogs? Sure. Yellow fever and scurvy? With her near-comically weak constitution it would almost be a miracle if she didn't catch something. But storms had somehow slipped her mind. it was stupid of her, of course. Unlike her crew-mates Kiááyo had grown up taking cover from shards of hail and freezing gales churned into a frenzy of whips so cold they burned by some hateful god or spirit of ice. She should have been expecting this.

Maybe it was because she had been so focused on what was new she had neglected to think of her past. There was likely a message in that, a moral to take to heart and keep hold of for the remainder of her likely short life. But the call for all hands left no time or room for such heady self-reflection. The Cotsch had swaddled herself in the heavy bearskin ostensibly earmarked for special occasions but serving as little more than a way to preserve body heat and ran out from the cramped and musty antechamber to the underworld that was the below decks and out into a violent blizzard that coated ship in snow and shrouded the sea in white. It was cold enough freeze the blood in her body, gales strong enough to blast her from the ship into the bottomless depths of the ocean. It was so inhospitable that Nature itself could easily kill a person in minutes and hide their frozen corpse under a snowdrift to be found later by some hungry animal.

It was home.

"Welcome to the fucking New World! she shouted over the ice storm at Charlotte in response to to her indignation. "This happens here." The native-born woman wore a sardonic smile as she spoke, laying her accent on just a bit thicker than it was naturally to play up her persona as the rough tribeswoman. The thunder of cannons jostled her bones, shaking back into the mind of the sickly little girl who watched her father practice with his guns. How wondrous they seemed! Barrels of cast iron loaded powder and shot, capable of shredding ships and tearing men in half. They were the future, her people could not cling on to their swords and bows and expect to last against the invaders.

The enemy's store of powder went up in a violent maelstrom of flaming wood and smoking steel, a glorious celebration of the power of modern weaponry. The Royal crewmen were now nothing more than sacrificial lambs slaughtered at the alter of Ca'tek, her people's god of war and bloodshed. A good victory, but a short lived one.A dry chuckle had barely escaped her lips when the ship was reduced to timbers by a unyielding iceberg, an impenetrable wall placed there by Yiama, mother of the sea. Clearly she was upset with them for one reason or another. Maybe Kiááyo was being punished for abandoning her homeland and people, and her crew were simply caught in the crossfire.

The reason didn't matter to her, what mattered was getting herself back below deck before she could be thrown from the deck. The markswoman managed to throw her body down the stairs in the darkness, managing to find her bunk in the dim light of the lanterns and holding on for dear life. The timbers shrieked in agony and cracked, icy water spilling into the hold to douse the sources of light. Kiááyo was left in pitch blackness, all noise drowned out by the roar of the storm and the sound of shattering wood as she fought to keep from from being torn from her post and slammed into a wall. Fate had a cruel sense of humor it seemed. Her final moments weren't going to be spent cough up blackened blood as her body succumbed to the poison within, she would wondering whether she would freeze or drown first. The violent motions of the crumbling ship spun her thoughts into a sickening blur, Kiááyo resigning herself to her fate. Her mission had failed before it had even really begun.

So it was a pleasant surprise when she came to and realized that she wasn't dead yet. The half-breed was splayed out on a piece of flooring that had been torn loose in front of her bunk, gripping the now freed bed so tightly her knuckles were white. Considering she couldn't feel any head injury (her body was a different story, the bruises left from being slammed around the sinking ship would hurt for a while.)she hadn’t been knocked unconscious, just blacked out sometime during the madness and terror of being caught on a sinking ship. "Back to work then." she muttered, checking her weapons before standing up and taking stock of her surroundings. The ship was sinking, their food and wealth with it. They had lost crew and their means of transportation and were currently under attack. But at least her bags weren't lost sticking out of a snowdrift a hundred yards or so away, so they still had her Medicines. Her weapons were all on her and she had targets in range.

Things were better than they had any right to be.

One of her fellow survivors was calling for help, Kiááyo sprinting as fast as her legs could carry her through the snow, slipping and sliding all the way. She managed to fumble her way into cover next to Horus and Enzio, checking priming her musket and propping it on the rock. "And this is why we use guns" she explained in greeting, lining up her shot as enemy bullets ricocheted off the snow covered boulder and buried themselves in the piles around them. The trained shooter took a breath and held it, barrel hovering in front of a pirate hunter on the ridge. A pull of the trigger and her musket spat a cloud of smoke and ball of lead, the bullet tearing through skin bone and organs alike in it's path through the hunter's ribs and through his lungs. One down and more to go.

She didn't bother reloading, letting the long arm rest on the rocks and drawing her twin turnover pistols as began to line up new targets. Eight more bullets, eight more kills.
Think I got everything

Elizabeth Astor
Morning, School

Even after this time away from her family, Elizabeth still couldn't quite believe that she was free from them. It was almost too good to be true. Nineteen years old and already a member of the one percent, she had the means to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted and there was no one around to say no. She had successfully squirmed her way out from under the thumb of two disgustingly rich families who had every intention of dragging her into the soulless and amoral world of business and had the freedom to make her own choices. She was young, beautiful (or so she liked to think, in actuality she knew she was "pretty" at best) single, and a multimillionaire. For many people this would look like the golden opportunity to drink and party all day everyday!

But she had never been the type to get trashed and make poor decisions while under the influence, she enjoyed alcohol of all kinds but not to that extent. So instead she had signed for college and literally picked her course at random. Sociology was as good a time filler as any and that's all she was looking for. Every day of the work week except for Tuesday she would go to class and listen dutifully, paying enough attention to earn a B. Solid but not outstanding, a delightful change of pace from the forced excellence her tutors had dragged out of her as a child. But today was her off day. There was no class to go to, just a routine to slip into like a comfortable sweater. She slipped out of her Carolean four post bed at 5 AM sharp (later than usual, she was usually awake by 4) and lazily exchanged her nightshirt for a blouse and jeans. The two most important creatures in her life were already waiting patiently for her at the foot of the bed, Basker and Buck looking up at her with hunger clearly visible in their eyes.

"Good morning my handsome boys." the young woman cooed, rubbing their furry heads lovingly. "Whose got a kiss for Mama?" They did, of course, Buck resting his front paws on Elizabeth's shoulders and lapping at her nose. The little human nearly buckled under more than double her weight's worth of Doberman, and again when Basker got his turn. "Thank you my dears. Let's get some breakfast." She led her children to the kitchen, eight paws and two slippered feet padding softly against the rich black carpet of her bedroom before clacking against the marble flooring of the hallways in a cacophony of claws. Lazily Elizabeth flicked on a light in the spacious kitchen before snapping her fingers. "Basker, table time!" Her good boy snapped into action, taking up position in front of the high cabinets so that his mama could carefully clamber up onto his back and then shift to the counter top. She retrieved the tea kettle and mugs, setting them down before before hopping daintly to the floor. "Thanks my sweet creature." The Ovcharka earned himself a pat between the ears as she went about setting up breakfast. A bit of busy work later and she was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a plate of steak and eggs, adding vintage whiskey from her well-stocked liquor cabinets to her tea as Basker and Buck chowed down on their own matching meals. The young heiress eyed the antique grandfather clock, ("Cost me more than twenty thousand dollars" her mother had shared over the phone when it was shipped over as a gift) praising the time. 6:30, time for a walk.

Three sets of fine china were quickly cleared and cleaned, placed in the rack to dry as Elizabeth led her brood to the private elevator that led from her high rise to the ground floor. They didn't need leashes, much too well trained and cared for to ever try to run away. As the metal box descended she could see the adopted brother snap to attention, ears flickering and noses sniffing as the doors opened. They were her boys of course, but they were also her bodyguards first and foremost. They weren't going to let her go unless they were sure the coast was clear. Cautiously they stepped out and checked the lobby, finally looking back to her. "Ready?" Let's go!"

The little family sprinted out the doors of the lobby and onto the sidewalk, engaging in their daily run. When they returned all three of them were panting heavily, Elizabeth nodding a tired and dreamy expression to the doorman as she hustled her boys back upstairs and hopping into the shower as they rested on the cool tile flooring. She brushed her teeth as she washed off, not really seeing a point not to, and dried off before tugging her clothes back on. "Be good for me!" She instructed them unnecessarily. She had decided to head to school on her off day simply because she didn't have anything better to do. The thirty minute drive was a little annoying but it would at least keep her occupied. Sure she could walk but she didn't feel like it after a two mile run. She had grabbed her helmet and tugged on a leather jacket, already knowing what she was going to drive as she descended into the garage. She owned five different vehicles and categorically refused to use all but two of them whenever she could avoid it. Her family lacked the humanity and care required to come up with thoughtful gifts so she had ended up needing to sign for a total of five vehicles in the space of three days which made her feel like a royal asshole.

TheFerrari 488 Spider and Lamborghini Murciélago were gifts from her mother and father respectively. Loud and ostentatious, they screamed "too much disposable income" so loudly it was embarrassing. The car from her maternal was worse however, much much worse. A Dodge Charger painted a garish green with red racing stripes and a spoiler that had its muffler removed, she wanted to throw up every time she so much as glanced at the thing. It embodied all the worst stereotypes about rednecks in a way that made her skin crawl.

The fourth car was positively kick-ass however. A perfect recreation of the Pursuit Special from Mad Max, the only reason she didn't drive it everywhere was because how quickly it burned through gas. That left her with the bike, a lightweight Machia Nera ConceptIt was for the better anyway, the tiny girl knew she looked somewhat ridiculous in those massive cars. She hopped on, put on her helmet, revved the engine and took off towards school.

She rejected the common room for the courtyard, shaking the hair out of her eyes as she removed her helmet and took a seat next to boy that seemed to be about her age. She had never seen him before, looking curiously at him for a moment as he read. "Good book?" she asked, not even bothering to mention the strange boy climbing the tree.

Name: Kiááyo Tatanka (Margareta De Luca)
"The Woman With Two Names"

Age / Date of Birth:
Was April 22nd, 1753, making her 28 years old.





-2x Turnover Pistols
-Satchel of various medicinal herbs and bandages

Taller and more well-built than most of her female counterparts Kiááyo stands at roughly 5'9" and carries herself as she was even taller. When in a resting position her arms are folded behind her ramrod straight back, chest jutting out proudly. Black eyes shine out from a bronze colored, hawkish face, black hair kept in a neat bun. The powerful muscles of her arms and legs are almost always visible under her clothes, her toned core and back usually concealed unless she's swimming. The native woman hides her ears, the most obvious signs of her nonhuman heritage, by keeping the pointed tips tucked up into her hair or wearing a hat. While she's certainly not ashamed of her ancestry she finds it simpler to hide them from most people. Also kept hidden are the curse-deadened veins in her arms and legs, a few lines of blackened blood running up and down her body. The trails of curdled blood are positioned so that long sleeves can hide all of them, for now anyway...

When out on the high seas or trailing her quarry on land she wears an outfit of soft buckskin pants with hide boots and a simple coat to keep out the elements. A cloth scar wrapped around her mouth serves as a convenient mask to keep out dust or to use as a rag for cleaning her weapons. Leather belts wrapped around her waist and torso provide places to store her guns and powderbox as well a place to hang her satchel full of herbal remedies and bandages.
She has two sets of formal clothing, one from the Old World and one from the New. Her Old World outfit consists on a black suit jacket and pants embroidered with golden thread, silver buttons polished to a sheen. A beaver felt tricorn hat and ruffle of white linen complete the ensemble. The clothing from her tribal upbringing is much simpler, her standard coat covered by a heavy bearskin cape with designs of crows and elk painted on with a careful hand. Strands of beads wrap around her neck, a bonnet of eagle feathers on her head. Simply made dyes of black and red cover the upper portion of her face, her mouth and chin left bare.

Kiááyo is always paying close attention to how other people are acting around her and adjusts her own mannerisms as needed. A social chameleon, the native-born Cotsch has two distinct personalities for dealing with certain types of people. When interacting with other natives or the rough gangs of bounty hunters and brigands she does business with her natural accent is allowed to roam free as she introduces herself as Kiááyo Tatanka, sometimes even it making it stronger than it naturally is. Curses and slurs slip easily from her mouth in between gulps of cheap ale and puffs of smoke, spitting the foul mixture to the floor every now and again.

In sharp contrast is the personality used when speaking with people of higher social status. If she were to meet a wealthy Arian merchant or a Caulish nobleman she would introduce herself as "Margareta De Luca sir, at your service." a well-mannered lady who speaks only in polite euphemisms and measured tones and eschews low quality swill for wine fine and gallows humor for gossip about this royal family or that trade empire.

No matter which name she uses, she's driven by her goals. Her people have been battered and pushed around by the fleets and armies of the Old World for far too long. Cochise's recognized borders aren't enough of a deterrent to keep the colonizers away, so she will carve out a new set. A country where pirates, bandits, outlaws and outlanders would fight side by side with the first nations of the New World and anyone who opposed the Old. A pirate nation that will scrape out it's own territory and bleed dry anyone who steps foot in it with the intent to steal it. One that will combine the stalking and harrying tactics of the tribes and bounty hunters with the arms of the foreign militaries they oppose.

She will achieve with flattery, bribery, threats and promises and back up her words with colt steel and hot lead. She will stop at nothing until her country is formed and her names immortalized!

And she'll do it before the curse kills her.

Kiááyo's story begins before her birth with a Fioretzan pirate and his bride to be. Alonzo De Luca had met Margaret Arundel in a port town tavern, a gunman who had spent some ill gotten coins to see a few tricks from a talented mage. She didn't disappoint, impressing him enough with colored lights and clever illusions that he promised to come back after his next voyage. And he did, returning multiple times with gifts of jewelry stolen from all over the world. The pair struck up a friendship that blossomed into a genuine love affair that could have been a happy ending for both of them.

But some men just don't know a good thing when they see one and end up ruining it. Alonzo was one of those men. Not content with his little trysts with Margaret every few months or so the pirate convinced a Cochisic woman to follow him. Inayat was only sixteen years old to his thirty-four and was easily swayed by honeyed words and promises of adventure. But instead of swashbuckling action and tender romance she was treated to terrible food and brutal "lovemaking", learning very quickly that she was nothing more than a way for Alonzo to keep himself occupied. Unsurprisingly she ended up pregnant and unable to flee.

Pirates have always been known for their love of drink and Alonzo's crew mates were no exception. One night as he stayed on board the ship with his captive, his "beloved' learned from a drunken cabin boy just what Alonzo had been up to. When they next met she very nearly burnt him alive with conjured flames but couldn't bring herself to kill the man she once loved. Instead she cursed his unborn child. The girl would be afflicted with a magical malady that would worsen throughout her life, slowly killing her from the inside. Margaret coldly explained the effects of her spell before walking out of his life forever.

Alonzo wasn't especially broken up about it but needed a way to calm the frantic mother of his bastard child. So he returned with Inayat to her homeland so she could be with her family while he supported them with bounty hunting and robbery. When his daughter was born he looked to his old flame for naming inspiration, calling her Margareta. The girl's maternal family all called her Kiááyo and she grew up learning to speak Fioretzan and the various languages of the tribes in her area.

The effects of the curse started appearing early in her childhood. Kiááyo couldn't run as a long or play as hard as her peers, doubling over in coughing fits that would leave her sidelined. An inconvenience sure, but if this was all the curse did than she could live with it. But it revealed her true nature around the age of seven, the coughing fits lasting up to a minute at a time and forcing her to gasp desperately for air between spluttering and choking gurgles. Her spit would be tainted with reddened mucus that was sometimes tinged with black as her blood was poisoned, some of her veins looking as if they were filled with ink. While stronger than many of the other children she was left behind more and more, unable to keep with them at all.

But she refused to be made an invalid. She might have had limited time but she was going to make the most of it. She learned to wrestle and brawl, able to hold her old against bigger opponents by letting her thick arms bear the brunt of an assault before unleashing a powerful haymaker into their jaws. Like most of the people in her tribe she learned to hunt and make useful medicines out of various plant and animal matter, foul-tasting mixtures that she used to keep herself alive. She found out that she had a natural inclination for diving far beyond most people's, able to hold her breath for nearly ten minutes. And most importantly, after much pestering Alonzo taught her to shoot.

It was a life changer. She didn't have to watch her quarry disappear into the woods as she lagged behind, didn't have to live at fear that some bandit would tire her out and slaughter her while she was defenseless. With practice she would be able to take on anyone. And practice she did, blasting away at birds and crudely carved targets hung off trees. She kept practicing until she could hit a target with a bullet more than her fellows could with a boy, even joining her father on some of his manhunts when she turned fifteen. By the time she was twenty she was a fully fledged bounty hunter in her own right, making a name for herself by working with gangs of thugs to track escaped convicts and wanted assassins.

It was good money, but not enough to fuel her ambitions of forming a country. And the clock was ticking. As she got older Kiááyo became more and more aware of her occasional fits, tracing a finger over the black lines in her arm as she contemplated her own mortality. If she wanted to achieve her goals she needed three things: money, an army, and an heir. So when she received her letter of marque she leapt at the chance. Piracy would provide the money which would lead to the army, she could provide the heir herself. So the Woman With Two Names packed up her equipment and set out to follow her father's footsteps.
Player Faction: Alhryt-Liu Trade and Lending Company

Contact us for loan and slave appraisal

Founded a little over three centuries ago by a Tian and Xul, both immigrants to Venedig, the Alhryt-Liu Trade and Lending Company (better known simply as the Company) got its start in a modest stall in the Bazaar exchanging currency brought in by the hordes of travlers from all corners of the globe. The pair did well for themselves, making a modest amount of wealth before moving into money-lending and trading. They shipped wool and wine, swords and shoes, anything anyone needed to anywhere on Erde. The pair had been well-off before but now they were rich, both of them attracting good wives and making friends in the higher circles of society. By the time they retired the names Alhrty and Liu were respected in Venedig, known for being dependable and able to investments into steady profits.

As time went on trade and currency exchange took a backseat to moneylending which left the Company with a problem: what to do with people who defaulted on their loans? Sure they could confiscate property and what little money the debtor had but that was rarely worth much. Every time someone wasn't able to come up with the money the Company made a loss, an unacceptable turn of events. So fifty years into it's existence the Company jumped into what people were already doing: the slave trade.

It was simple. Once the time ran out on a contract the debtor was given a week to come up with the money or something of equal value. If they couldn't they forfeited their freedom. They were no longer people but property, a red mark in the ledge suddenly converted to an asset. If their body still couldn't cover the cost their meager belongings were taken as well.

Of course, many tried to run away from their debts but the Company quickly built a network of bounty hunters, trackers and thugs to return escapees. It is rare for someone to evade the Company for more than a month.

Jobs Offered
Trackers:People who specialize in find property that decides to run out on agreements. Consisting of a highly paid but relatively small professional core supplemented by temporary mercenaries and thugs. One time contracts pay well enough and contractors that do well are often offered a permanent job with good pay and benefits as well as a pension for next of kin if they die in the line of duty.

Traders: This refers to people that sell slaves as well as those who sell non-sentient property. There are always plenty of assets that need to be sold off and traders working for the Company can expect a 20% cut of every sale as well as plenty of stock provided to them for no charge.

Silencers:By far the smallest of the employee categories Silencers are the in-house spies and assassins used by the company in situation where it might be too awkward, expensive or simply not convenient to hire the Razors. Silencers are expected to keep a low profile but how they handle any particular job is up to them. Whether they kill a target with blade, poison, arrow or magic doesn't matter as long as they're discrete. They are only sent to to deal with things that pertain directly to the company such as bandits harassing caravans or slaves plotting rebellion. The Company never takes contracts as a matter of principle and a sense of politeness towards the Razors.

General Labor:The men and women who serve as general muscle for the Company. They serve as bodyguards for the traders and higher up personal and protecting caravans or bringing in debtors who ran out of time, run messages to the various offices in the city, take care of the horses and repair the wagons. They take care of all the small things that go into running a business that most people wouldn't even think. It's not exactly glamorous but the Company would fall apart without them. The largest subset of the Company, the vast majority of employees start here. They are free to apply for a shift to one of the other positions or might be offered one if they show impressive aptitude in a particular area.

Tag, even though we were already talking lmao
© 2007-2017
BBCode Cheatsheet