Smike

Born to Fight: Bounty Hunters

Lovos Armaments: Rugged, Reliable, Relentless

The following is a report on the escaped bioweapon CZ-18B3, better known as Callsign: Void. It had been leased out to the mercenary company McCulloch Security a tracker and breacher, but escaped containment the day before she was due to be shipped back to our care. CZ-18B3 is an incredibly powerful tool and is worth a great expense to recover, but will not go quietly. If it's ever found again.

McCulloch Security provided the following transcript of an interview of Void done by her McCulloch assigned handler a day before her escape.

IDENTITY?
"My call sign is Void."
WHAT WAS YOUR NAME BEFORE YOU WERE ACTIVATED?
"....I don't know."
Age: HOW OLD ARE YOU?
"I have been operational for two (2) standard years after you rented me."
WHAT IS YOUR AGE?
"...I have been oper-"
HOW MANY YEARS HAVE YOU BEEN CONSCIOUS TOTAL?
"I can't answer that. All memories before my reactivation are blocked from me."
Race: WHAT ARE YOU?
"...My call sign is Void."
WHAT SPECIES ARE YOU?

At this point Void became audibly agitated and readings showed heightened aggression and anxiety.

"Why do you people keep asking stupid questions? You know what I am! I am nothing but a weapon, a loaded gun Lovos sells to fuckers like you so you can point at targets and make me slaughter them! "
VOID, CALM DOWN.
"How can you expect me to be calm? Whatever I was, whatever life I had however long ago, those bastards stole it and made me a monster and now all I am to anyone is property!"
CZ-18B3, CALM DOWN OR YOU WILL DEACTIVATED.

According to the transcript Void refused to speak anymore.

Name: The bioweapon is designated CZ-18B3 but uses the callsign "Void". It has also been known to use other pseudonyms in the field.
Age: The unit 39 years of age.
Race: Lupine Terran
Genetics: Psionics and cybernetics enhanced genetic bioweapon.
Appearance: Void was designed so that on the outside it would appear as nothing more than a Canis Lupus Columbianus Terranus (Terran British Columbian Wolf.) Biologically female, Void stands at 1.8 meters tall (6 feet, two inches) and is covered by a layer of black fur that stand in contrast to a pair of cold blue eyes. Void is well-built with a visible six pack and powerful muscles in its arms and legs. Scars trace crisscross through the fur on it's back, wounds sustained from a grenade on her previous assignment.

When not in the field Void is noted to prefer a black synth-leather jacket and jeans, with a pair of aviators depending on the level of light. Note: Prefer doesn't mean wears exclusively. Void knows that it's being looked for, it's likely that she has by now acquired other outfits. In combat Void wears a suit Mk. 4X Scout Armor that enhances her already augmented senses and is equipped with air filters, communication equipment, water purifiers, and other various survival equipment.
-------------------------

Important items: Void is licensed to pilot Stryfe-class fighters so there's a good chance it used one to make her escape.

Weapons: 1. Chimera Automatic Assault Energy Weapon:The AAEW is a close range to mid range versatile weapon that is equally suited to clearing crowds or dealing with single targets with two rates of fire. The first is fully automatic, blasts of green plasma being spat from the rotating barrels and split into individual splashes, like the pellets of a shotgun. The second mode is a charge shot that can melt through armor and flesh and even do minor damage to the hulls of ships.
2. Eminence Royal Armory Co. Huntsman Rifle: The Huntsman Scout Rifle (Figure 5 in the attached image) was orignally inteded as a ceremony or display peace, but is still nontheless a solidly functioning railgun. Void's enhanced eyesight allow her to make use of it from extreme ranges without the help of a scope.
3. Warfighter 23: Mass produced and well loved, the Warfighter serves as Void's backup weapon and tool for close in assassinations.
4. Wrist Ports: Void is equipped with payload launchers in her wrist that can cycle between varroius grenade types, monofilament nets, grappling hooks, jets of fire and even blasts of blinding acid.
5. Claws: Void's original claws have been replaced nanocarbon cutting implements that can be coated with a thin film of energy to slice steel.

Physical Abilities:1. Speed and Reflexes: The natural dexterity of a predator has been improved with genetically enhanced muscles and mind. Void is capable of holding her own in unarmed or melee combat with multiple foes and is nigh impossible to outrun.
2. Hardened Shell: Under the outer layer skin Void has a secondary shell of hardened cartilage and sinew that serves as a secondary defense against damage. It's not enough to stop a bullet by completely stop a bullet by itself, but can be a lifesaver when combined with armor.
3. Senses: Void call call upon a HUD display that overlays on top of her field of view, keeping track of ammo, targets in view, weather conditions and even show a list of objectives. It can see in thermal and infrared vision and can zoom in up to to ten times. It's capable of tracking targets by smell only, and can focus to be able to pick up the sound of heartbeats.
4. Healing: The weapon has a minor healing factor, able to recover from burns and lacerations in a few hours. But for serious or life threatening wounds it needs to consume fresh heart muscle. Humanoid works best but animal hearts will do in a pinch. The freshly oxygenated blood and cardiovascular tissue is quickly burnt and put to work repairing punctured organs, replenish lost blood and knitting back together shattered bones.

Psionic Powers:1. Warp: Void is able blink in and out of existence at will, appearing in different locations in seconds. Short jumps are of little consequence, but doing long or repeated trips will leave it lightheaded, dizzy, feeling sick and even passing out in extreme circumstances.

-------------------------

Personality: Under normal circumstances Void is noted to be cordial and calm, if a bit quiet. It's capable of forming strong bond of friendship or respect as well holding grudges, something demonstrated by it's treatment of the McCulloch security forces, but is programmed to always put it's own survival first. Void is biologically female and refers to itself as such and has shown attraction to both genders but it's doubtful that romantic encounters are at the top of its list of priorities. Most likely it's focused on evading capture and uncovering details of its past missions and who it was before being converted by the Bioweapons Divison.

In the field the weapon is skilled at tracking targets and dealing with hostile terrain, having specialized in dropping into the field from high altitude or low orbit and trailing quarry before taking them out. It has a preference for close quarters combat but is more than capable of engaging targets from long range if need be.

As a side note, Void is attracted to all manner of vices. Drinking, smoking, overeating, excessive sugar intake, even casual narcotics usage. This is believed to be a sort of stress relief for the bioweapon, one it can indulge in far past the limits of a normal person thanks to it's healing factor. It's not unheard of for it to go through five packs of cigarettes in a day or four cases of beer in under an hour.

Background: In it's past life Void was Security Officer Emmi "Pathfinder" Kaone, a specialist in catching industrial spies and informants for Lovos. She had joined the company at the age of 18, intending to work through college. The Terran showed a natural affinity for combat and tracking and ended up dropping out of school when offered a six figure pay check to go through Lovos's selective specialization courses. She received training in small arms, tracking, counter-espionage, first aid and surveillance and was assigned to a recovery team at the age of 21. Within a year she was leading it, stealing back secrets from rival companies and silencing sources of leaks and particularly dangerous trade rivals.

At 25 it all went wrong. A routine surveillance job turned violent when the target pulled his weapon. A shootout ensued and local law enforcement got involved. By the end of it the target, four members of law enforcement, and two Lavos personal were dead. Of the survivors, Kaone was in critical condition and her partner was later captured and sentenced to a life sentence of hard labor. When her superiors heard about the debacle they quietly arranged for her to released from custody once her condition was stabilized for use in the company's burgeoning bioweapons project.

Over the course of three years Emmi was transformed and replaced by Void, her body hardened and implanted with weapons and enhancements. Memories of her old life were suppressed and replaced with the ability to harness the power of the mind to tear holes in the field of gestalt energy that made up the universe and travel through them. It was a long, costly, and for the subject, painful process but was no doubt worth it. The end result was a unit that could live and serve for centuries assuming it avoided violent death, a lethal hunter with the ability to heal itself using it's enemies remains. All that was needed was a way to field test it.

To accomplish this and recoup some of the money spent in it's creation the unit was rented out to various people and organizations, serving across all manner of terrain for mercenaries, armies, insurgent groups and even crime syndicates looking for a way to eliminate enemies. To keep track of it's whereabouts Unit CZ-18B3 was implanted with a tracker and kill switch and was informed of the consequences of trying to flee. So it served begrudgingly and obediently.

Until a year ago. Void was contracted out to a platoon of McCulloch Security on the asteroid mining colony of Wanderer's Refuge. McCulloch had been tasked with suppressing the miner's riots and Void was being used to eliminate leaders of the uprising. The violence reached a fever pitch and the colony was in open revolt, and communications were cut for about a week. When contact was reestablished the division didn't respond to any attempts to reach them. When teams were sent to investigate the found the entire platoon dead and Void missing. There was no sign of forced entry and the only thing taken was the unit itself and it's equipment. It had stolen itself.

The kill switch was engaged and it's signal tracked to a dingy room in a filthy traveler's hostel on a nearby hub planet but all the recovery team found was the tracker wrapped in a bloodstained napkin and tossed under the bed. It's believed that Void stole or stowed away on a ship fleeing the violence in Wanderer's Refuge and had a underground surgeon remove the device. It's also expected that it will come looking for answers, sooner or later.

Roleplay Sample: The last thing Void could clearly remember was handing over a pile of stolen credits to the street surgeon she had managed to find and discretely palming the scrap of paper with the address of the operating room they were scheduled to meet in. After that it was all just a blur of blending in crowds and sinking back into the shadows, running from shady corner to back alley and eventually holing up in a scrapyard for the night under the rusted hulk of a trashed ship. Every face in the hordes of refugees looked like a agent of Lovos, all the men hanging on street corners spies tracking her. Was communication on Wanderer's Refuge still down? Oh god she hoped it was. Every moment that passed was another moment closer to her escape being discovered and the killswitch being activated.

The bioweapon closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep, painfully aware of the fact that the next time she woke up it could be back in the labs. Or she might just never wake up at all. With that comforting thought Void drifted off to oblivion, wrapped up in a sheet of insulating foam torn from the abandoned hulk above her.

She was up before dawn, drifting back through the alleys and shaded corners before taking a detour into the sewer system, convinced that the woman taking her early morning stroll was tailing her. The Terran emergered back into the light three streets over, right in front of the hostel. The run down building was open for business judging by the lights on inside so she could just stroll right in. But that was stupid. She needed to minimize the amount of people who saw her. Luckily there was a second option. The room she was looking for was the "penthouse", which in this case meant it had a small concrete balcony with a couple of dead plants sitting on the ledge.

She untied her boots and laced them together, hanging them around her neck as she sidled up to the dreary grey wall. No one was around at the moment, now was the time to get this done. Void pressed her hands into the concrete structure and began to climb, scrambling for quickly up the building by using the claws on her hands and feet for purchase. Within a couple minutes she was at the top, pulling herself up and over the balcony and slipping inside the apartment. The doctor wasn't there yet but that was fine. She could be productive while waited.

Void stripped off her pants and dug around the room for material, finding a discarded pen and breaking it to get access to the red ink. She marked a square roughly an inch in width and length on her inner thigh and sat down to wait, ears flat against her head. When the street surgeon arrived they didn't bother to exchange greetings, Void simply allowing him to set his stuff down and inject her with anesthesia.

Or at least let him try. The armored carapace under her skin was too tough to be pierced by the needle, the chop doc spending minutes trying with his pockmarked brow wrinkled in confusion. "Lady, what's your fur made of?" I'm not going to be able to cut through this shit!" He said annoyance. "It's not the fur, it's a-" Void cut herself there. He didn't need to know the details. Instead she just took the syringe and pricked herself in one of the few unarmored spots on her body, sinking it into the crook of her elbow and depressing the plunger. 5 milligrams of sedative potent enough to tranquilizer a horse flowed into her bloodstream but all Void felt was a sort of numbness thanks to her healing factor. She gave the doctor a thumbs up and the operation began.

The scalpel bit into the inked square and sliced away, the path of fur being cut out and tossed away. Void bit her lip as the tracker came into view, finally looking at the square of tiny circuits and wires that controlled her. "This it?" The doc asked. "That's the fucker." She confirmed. "Just grab it and pull it out." A pair of needlenose pliers gripped a wire and pulled, the killswitch being pulled away from the palette of cartilage like a piece of tape from a wall. "Done." The chop doc said, dropping it to the floor. "Bandage that before you get dressed again."

As soon as he left Void let loose a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. It was over, she was free. She could go where she wanted, do what she wanted, BE who she wanted. Lovos didn't control her anymore. What she did next was entirely up to her.

And what she did next was lazily bandage herself and root through her bag to take out a half finished bottle of whiskey, a crumple pack of cigarettes and an unopened bar of chocolate. She was going to come after Lovos sooner or later but for the time being she just wanted to relax before figuring out her game plan.

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Smike's Sheets

Born to Fight: Bounty Hunters

Tentative tag for interest assuming it’s still open! What sorta roles are we missing?

(Also, Thanks @The Jest)

Fire Emblem: Sword and Sail

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.

Fire Emblem: Sword and Sail

Kiááyo

Portrait:

Kiááyo

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

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

Gender:
Female

Sexuality:
Bisexual

Class:
Musketeer

Stats

Strength:14
Willpower:15
Dexterity:16
Speed:12
Luck:0
Toughness:7

Skills:
-Tracking
-Healing
-Swimming/Diving
-Leadership

Equipment:
-Musket
-Knife
-2x Turnover Pistols
-Satchel of various medicinal herbs and bandages

Appearance:
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.

Personality:
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.

Biography:
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.

Fire Emblem: Sword and Sail

Think I got everything

Kiááyo

Portrait:

Kiááyo

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

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

Gender:
Female

Sexuality:
Bisexual

Class:
Musketeer

Stats

Strength:14
Willpower:15
Dexterity:16
Speed:12
Luck:0
Toughness:7

Skills:
-Tracking
-Healing
-Swimming/Diving
-Leadership

Equipment:
-Musket
-Knife
-2x Turnover Pistols
-Satchel of various medicinal herbs and bandages

Appearance:
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.

Personality:
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.

Biography:
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.

~ Phantom Thieves of London: The Calling ~

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.

~ Phantom Thieves of London: The Calling ~

CS

Name
Elizabeth Astor

Gender
Female

Age
19, March 19,

Sexuality
Bisexual

Nationality
American

Appearance

Elizabeth

The most noticeable thing about Elizabeth is her height, or rather her lack of it. Standing at an impressively diminutive four feet and eight inches it's quite easy to overlook her, not helped by her tendency to sit in the back of any given room. When not in her school uniform the young lady opts to wear elegant blouses and skirts or a comfy sweater and slacks, brightening up the usually dark ensemble with chokers of red or blue. Her face is delicately proportioned and tends to express only dreamy nonchalance at any given situation.

Her most distinctive feature is covered by her clothes, a surgical scar from when her ribs were broken by a kick from a young horse on her mother's ranch. A long line tracing over the right side of her body, it serves as a painful reminder to never let her guard down in any situation.

Metaverse Appearance

A regal cavalry officer's uniform with this Hat and this Mask.

Height
4'8"

Personality
At first glance Elizabeth seems like a gentle woman, kind and thoughtful even if she was quiet and maybe even a bit slow. When people speak to her it takes a moment for her eyes to focus on them, the young lady shaking her head like a dog trying to scare off flies. Often times a near whispered "Come again?" are the first words to come out of her mouth, her New England accent shining through. While her conversational partner repeats themselves they might find her humming quietly to herself or fiddling with her choker, nodding her head in time to unheard music while reaching down to pet her dogs Basker and Buck. She's often written off as airheaded and harmless, a pretty face with nothing behind it.

Nothing could be farther from reality. Her relatives on her father's side are all old money Yankees whose family had made it's forturne selling gunpowder to both sides of the American Civil War and crushing coal miner's strikes during the Gilded Age. Her maternal grandfather was a Texas oil and cattle baron who had crushed all his local competitors using underhanded business practices and benefited from "mysterious" arson attacks on rival wells and ranches. Besides receiving education from world renowned private tutors from the age of three she picked up from her family a shrewd mind for business and cold analysis of situations. One habit she has is making lists of weaknesses and past trauma she gleans from conversations and making plans on how utilize them to force favors out of the person.

And she hates it. Both sides of her family had ingrained her with a brutal mindset focused on extracting money out of every possible situation and leveraging all relationships for insider information and wiggling into backroom deals, had tried to make her into the next Washington lobbyist or boardroom cutthroat, and she's not about to play their game. Elizabeth is caring person, an animal lover who will turn out her pockets for every last bit of change in them to give to the less fortunate. She also carries a firm sense of right and wrong and a fierce belief in free will, a direct contrast to the amoral family that had tried to force her into the life of a ruthless capitalist.

Persona

Fenrir

A massive canine glowing orange and blue of the Justice arcana, Fenrir is capable of tearing apart enemies with teeth and claws or utilizing attacks of blinding nuclear energy.

Skill
Nuclear

Equipment
Model 1840 Cavalry Saber
Beowulf Rifle

Education
Sociology (St. Paul's College)
BTEC Business Studies(Evergreen)
A-Level Music (Evergreen)
A-Level Religious Studies (Evergreen)
Elizabeth also speaks fluent Spanish and Chinese and is a talented pianist, besides her ability to ride horses and shoot.
Biography
Elizabeth Astor was born three weeks early to Johnathan Astor and Katherine Simmons in the upscale resort of Martha's Vineyard during the parent's vacation, being delivered by a private doctor in a hotel room that was bigger than most people's houses. It was a sign of what was to come, the young girl being whisked off to the family mansion in New Bedford to be tended to by an army of nurses and nannies. The moment she wet herself her diaper was changed, she could hardly let out a single cry before some attentive nursemaid scooped her up and quieted her down. The closet full of diapers and baby clothes was big enough to have served as her playpen if she didn't have a room stocked with toys and stuffed animal hung with paintings of cherubs and woodland creatures. She had more than any baby needed or wanted but lacked a functional family.

Johnathan Astor and Katherine Clark were a marriage of a convenience through and through, a shrewd attempt by both families to try and gain an upper hand on their competitors and to secure an heir to both empires. It was a completely loveless relationship. The couple had separate bedrooms and had various affairs in them that the other knew about and didn't care. There was no animosity, in fact they were on friendly terms. They were both business oriented sharks who devoted themselves to their private ventures and worked together to mold their daughter into the next Rockefeller. To that end they surrounded her with the best tutors money could buy, teaching English, Chinese, mathematics, the classics, art history, any and every subject that they could.

When Elizabeth turned ten her mother moved back out to her grandfather's estate in Nevada, the young Astor splitting her time between the cold of New England and the heat of the Mojave. On the ranch she learned to shoot guns, ride horses, and train dogs as well as continued her training in the art of the deal. But the most important lesson she picked up was to never let her guard down. When little Astor was twelve she earned herself a kick to the ribs from a horse she was grooming after having failed to notice its agitation. It was a glancing blow, but even a light tap from a full grown horse is cause for alarm. Elizabeth managed to escape the situation with three broken ribs, a punctured lung, a scar from the emergency surgery, and an important lesson: watch your surroundings and pay attention to how people react.

While she was recovering she spent a lot of time with a cousin named Jacob who would show up with books and board games, the two playing Monopoly while he would tell her stories of robbers who would break into people's dreams to find the location of their treasure. Elizabeth didn't recognize that she was being groomed, prepared to be introduced to the family's real line of work when she was older. Both the Astors and Clarks were families that could enter the Metaverse and used their skills to ensure that things went their way. Elizabeth was simply the next in a long line of young men and women inducted into the business when they reached the age of twenty.

But she left the country before that could happen. She had grown to hate the way both sides of her family tree seemed to focus on money over anything else. She didn't want to make profit for profit's sake, to be drawn into the soulless world of business. She wanted to be a musician, an writer, a painter, anything that involved life and joy. She was allowed the chance to break free at seventeen when her grandfather passed away, leaving her with an inheritance of millions dollars as well as a small ranch of her own in New Mexico. The opportunity had presented itself and she seized it, going through the process of getting herself legally emancipated so she could get the inheritance transferred to a personal account.

As soon as the money was in her bank account she took off for London, selected at random. The ranch ran itself and she never needed to work a day in her life, she was living out a scenario most teens could only dream of. Now what to do with this freedom?
Affiliations
Katherine Simmons (Mother)
Jonathan Astor (Father)
Jacob Simmons (Cousin)
Buck Astor (Doberman)
Basker Astor (Ovcharka)
Relationships
To be filled out as the RP progresses

Character Theme
Not necessary, but can be used if wished.

Smike's Sheets

My Hider

Portrait:

Kiááyo

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

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

Gender:
Female

Sexuality:
Bisexual

Class:
Musketeer

Stats

Strength:14
Willpower:15
Dexterity:16
Speed:12
Luck:0

Skills:
-Tracking
-Healing
-Swimming/Diving
-Leadership

Equipment:
-Musket
-Knife
-2x Turnover Pistols
-Satchel of various medicinal herbs and bandages

Appearance:
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.

Personality:
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.

Biography:
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.

Intrigues of Venedig - High Fantasy Mature RP

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.