Nationality Polish by birth, nationalized American
Appearance Tall and fit, beautiful in an athletic sort of way, Natasza could be described as statuesque or even stunning on a good day. When inside the wire she dresses more like a Hollywood starlet than a professional spy, wearing cotton button-ups or turtlenecks and jeans with fashionable boots and aviators. A bit of lipstick with some eyeliner and mascara brings attention to her face, the better to keep the focus away from whatever her hands may be doing. Depending on the occasion she may add to the look with jewelry "acquired" from the locals or with a few buttons of her shirt left undone to add a little extra persuasive power to her smile.
Outside the wire Hush-Puppy is an entirely different creature. The German imported Doc Martens and casual shirts are replaced with heavy combat boots and tigerstripe camouflage fatigues, naturally flawless face covered by a thick layer of paint and mud. The fanciest accessory she carries into the field is a Rolex, chosen for its ability to withstand the rivers she swims through and kept in a pocket to keep the sun from glinting off it. A patrol cap and piece of twine keeps her short hair out of her face so she can use her rifle's scope without worry. The smile she wears in the safety of the villages and cities is nowhere to be found in the jungle, Hush-Puppy keeping up an unreadable mask when working.
Height 5'8"
Personality
Natasza Zajac, otherwise known as Hush-Puppy, is in many ways the personification of this brutal new age of warfare. Combining college-educated negotiation and reasoning skills with modern era intelligence gathering and ancient savagery she's a professional spook, capable of performing all sorts of unsavory acts without flinching. Her education, her looks, her easy-going personality, all are used to get information out of sources with and without their knowledge. And then when it's time to act on it she strikes swiftly and without hesitation, swimming up out of the delta or coming down from the mountains to burn, kidnap and kill as needed. Everyone in Vietnam, is either an asset, a possible asset or a problem to be removed. A firm believer in the concept of carrot and stick HP is willing to use persuasion, seduction, bargaining and violence in equal measure to achieve her objectives.
Her intelligence and knack for languages has been put to good use throughout her career, Hush-Puppy making a point to become fluent or at least conversant in the main language of each country she's assigned to. Besides English Polish and Latin she's managed to master French, Spanish, Farsi, Italian, Russian, Chinese and Vietnamese besides being conversant in multiple Hmong, Montagnard and Tibetan dialects.
HP's relation with such concepts as religion, patriotism and morality can be murky to distinguish even for her, balancing biblical rules such as "Thou shall not kill" and women not supposed to be lying with other women with the brutal realities of her job and her sometimes "unorthodox" attractions. She struggles with her work, the absolute necessity of it making it no more enjoyable. And with each passing day she worries more for her soul. An afterlife on streets of gold and no pain seeming more and more distant as her need to serve a country and ideas she believes in makes a devil out of her. So far she's managed to walk the line, refusing to entertain thoughts of conversion or retirement while there's work to be done. After all, the Communists aren't exactly clean themselves. Hush-Puppy is content to pay penance by making them pay theirs.
Rank Agent
Branch CIA Directorate of Plans, on loan to MACV-SOG
Role Long range patrols and reconnaissance, unconventional warfare, intelligence and counter-intelligence
Biography Natasza's earliest memories were of luxury and decadence. Born in Warsaw in 1924 to a family of landed gentry turned industrialists the youngest child of four was the most recent addition to a line of minor nobility who could trace it's roots back through to the legendary winged hussars. And as was fitting for one of her station she was tended to by a small army of doctors and servants, the horde of staff making sure she wanted for nothing. Except attention from her parents of course. Her father Jan and mother Karina were away from their estate on business trips more often than not, the near constant checking up on their steel mills and coal mines living them little time to spend with any of their children. With three other competitors seeking to claim that precious resource Natasza quickly adjusted to being alone.
in 1929 just after the new year Jan and Karina left their Polish holdings in the hands of capable underlings and moved to the American territory of Alaska, settling down in Anchorage in hopes of capitalizing on the gold, timber and fish to be found. But before final preparations could be made Black Tuesday hit. The Great Depression had hit with full force and the new business was put on indefinite hold. The Zajacs managed to avoid the worst of it and poured money into their adopted home in it's time of need.
In an effort to ease the transition into a new country the importance of national pride was impressed upon Natasza and her siblings, her parents making sure their English was immaculate and their accents non-existent. The whole family went through the lengthy process of naturalization before Natasza's ninth birthday, an event she announced excitedly to her class. She and her family had bought into the American Dream wholeheartedly, proud of both their birth country and their new one. Two flags hung from their window and expeditions into the wilderness of Alaska were regular occurrences. Natasza was especially devout in her belief, never missing a Mass or Saints Day at church. It looked like she would have the perfect all-American experience. It was an idyllic period in her life.
And then the world exploded. The family listened on the radio as Nazi Germany and Communist Russia split their homeland in two, an event that would haunt Natasza for the rest of her life. All of her siblings signed up to fight within a week of the US joining the war. None of them would make it home. Józef was shot in North Africa during Operation Torch and Leon drowned in the waters of Normandy. Teodora managed to fight her way across Europe before being killed by Soviet grenades during the Prague incident. As each telegram came home more and more burden was placed upon Natasza to succeed, the young girl not wanting her siblings deaths to be in vain.
She threw herself into her studies under the best tutors money could buy and managed to get accepted into Princeton university at only 17, earning bachelor's degrees in International Relations and Linguistics by the age twenty-three. Her plan was to join the Army but her parents wouldn't hear it, terrified at the possibility of their only remaining child meeting the same fate. It was a point of contention that nearly ripped the family apart. Her parents kept pushing her to go into politics, to use their money and connections to become somebody important just like it had been down in their homeland. But Natasza refused again and again, determined to make it all by herself. Eventually they reached a compromise: she would join the CIA. She could have a safe, quiet job as a data analyst or station head somewhere out of the way where she wouldn't get hurt.
She took the deal and signed up. Her background checks came up clean and with her outstanding academic record and background she had her pick of any of the four directorates. To the horror of her parents she picked the Directorate of Plans, getting shipped off to Camp Peary to learn how to be a spy. By 1951 she had been taught how to assemble and defuse explosives, how to hotwire cars and pick locks, the best ways to conceal items on her person and all the other various tricks someone in her field would need and was ready for her first assignment. Under the codename Odysseus she was sent to Paris to Europe to root out Soviet and Chinese operatives.
Her direct superior was a legend in his own right. Luke Dixon, better known as the Jackal, was a veteran of the OSS and an incredibly talented spy who had worked for the Republicans in the Spanish Civil War and spent the second World War rooting out collaborators in occupied French. He took Natasza under his wing, the young woman becoming an informal protege as she learned from a master at the craft. It was under his tutelage that her own reputation began to form, Odysseus becoming feared and respected throughout Europe's intelligence communities. For two years she rarely spent more than a week in one place before moving, crossing the continent in search of KGB assassins and Stasi assets. One particularly memorable Saturday she killed five agents in Oslo and escaped via a commandeered fishing boat.
The event that would really make her (in)famous in her field would come in 1953. Unbeknownst to her Jackal had been converted to a Russian asset a year after she started working with him, giving up state secrets and disrupting NATO operations. When this was discovered it fell to Natasza to deal with him. Jackal had been tipped off and managed to secure a car and bodyguard to make it to East Germany. With hours to spare she tracked him down and ran him off the road and into a train. Jackal was killed instantly and his heir took up the codename "Hush-Puppy" as a sort of trophy.
After that she was temporarily reassigned to Iran and Guatemala in order to assist with the American backed coups and build up the intelligence organizations of the new governments before being recalled back to Europe. She expected to stay there for the rest of her career and maybe even get that station head job her parents had talked about but instead ended up being shifted to Asian operations. His first job was in Tibet, trekking through the hazardous mountain terrain to build up a network of anti-Chinese agitators and dissident. There she learned to how to train and equip a paramilitary force. It was a skill-set that would prove invaluable in her next assignment: turning the often incompetent ARVN and the local farmers and tribespeople into proper fighting forces.
When the United States officially entered the war she gained new responsibilities, working with the newly formed MACV-SOG on Operation Phoenix and Project Eldest Son. Hunting down VIPs and sabotaging enemy efforts, she was back in her element.
Worked with him back in '57 to train and advise the ARVN. Upon her being transferred to field duties she looked him up and sent herself to his FOB so she could have a grunt unit to attach herself to when not going solo. Lucas seems solid enough for her purposes.
A cub reporter out of her element. HP was only aware of Cynthia through her pieces about New York politics and scandals before one of her contacts at the Times mentioned offhandedly that she'd be coming. Now HP is keeping an eye on her and doing some digging as to just how she managed to get assigned to Vietnam.
She had managed to guess correctly. Really it had been simple. There was a grand total of jack shit to do here besides get high and figure out new ways to waste time. Counting the cannons going off was one she had used before. "Those things will take your whole finger off if you don't watch it and run out of ammo just when some fuck gets right up in your face with a bayonet. Switched mine out as soon as possible." Morgan gave the pistol holstered at her side a pat, unwilling to go unarmed even behind lines. "My Hi-Powered is just as deadly and carries more bullets, plus it won't snap my wrist in half when I fire it. And I have a Python for I really need to fuck shit up." Just soldier's talk, a simultaneous dick measuring contest and a way to kill time. "It's Morgan. Miracle Morgan, cuz it's a miracle I'm still alive." She let out a harsh bark of a life, like a rabid dog warning others not to get to close. "And you're Sergeant Whittaker. I'm a leatherneck but they have me just filling in for whoever needs it right now."
That's all she was, the one who did jobs too dirty for others and took the place of people who got themselves shot or blown to pieces or hit with a Section 8. back at boot camp she had gotten saddled with handling the M60 and now there was always some dick was always calling for her to translate what some ditch-digger was babbling about or telling her to get on her belly and crawl into snake infested holes to blow up ammo caches. "That's what they're telling me. If you need a dink to get shot to shit, detonated or spoken to I'm the one who does the shooting, detonating and talking." The angry little bitch rolled her eyes at the warning and took another long drag on her cigarette. "What else is new? If they have a problem we'll work it out." By which she meant she'd feed them their fucking teeth.
And the FNGs opened their mouths. There was a misconception among civilians that Marines were all just rough and tumble ready to roll killing machines. Clearly that wasn't the case, some of them were apparently brain dead bimbos who just narrowly avoided blowing their stupid heads off when they held their first rifle. "Don't call him sir, he actually works for a living."Her rebuke was quick but Lucas was quicker, telling them off immediately. Better he than her honestly. Her reprimand likely would have come as a slap to the face. The Negro mechanic was still there opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water. Couldn't keep up with the conversation huh? Oh well, it wasn't Miracle's job to sit there and wait for her like a kindergarten teacher.
The Sargent's under breath comment hadn't gone unnoticed, Miracle ruminating on it as the fresh meat apologized and he fucked off somewhere. She was adept at hiding her uglier feelings, keeping her face stony as she dealt with her stomach tying itself in knots. "Can you two knock it off with the faggot shit?." There was something especially heart-rending about that kind of language. Her casual racism was easier to explain away, the people here weren’t her mother. Mà was a hard worker who tried her best to make a better life unlike the rest of these coolies. But seeing these two was different. Looking at them meant confronting something she wanted desperately but would never be able to find. "I mean for Crissakes go find a broom closet or something."
Piece by piece and day by day she was growing to hate herself more and more.
Appearance: Temerity is taller than many of the people she comes across, standing at about 6'2" or even more if you count her horns. Her species is made obvious by the aforementioned horns, red eyes and blue skin marking her out as one of the half-demons. Her hair is left to run freely down to her back, bangs sometimes obscuring part of her face. Well-built and broad-shouldered her powerful arms are usually left bare to show off her muscles.
The traditional robes of her old order have been modified to suit her wants and needs, quilted padding added to the inner lining to give extra protection from attacks and a hood with holes for her horns sewn on to ward off inclement weather. Bronze vambraces and greaves allow her to deflect blows without weighing her down too much. As a final rejection of her vow of poverty Temerity adorns herself with gold and silver jewelry, piercings in her nose, ears and the spade of her tail and thin chains connecting her horns. They draw the eye to her and what she is, forcing people to be aware of her presence. New pieces are added as she picks up trophies from fights.
Favored Alignment Major and Minor Focuses: Major Focus: Chaotic Minor Focus: Neutral
Favored Class Archetype Major and Minor Focuses: Major Archetype: Skirmisher Minor Archetype: Divine Magic
Equipment: -Steel tonfa -Kusarigama -Meditation mat -Robes and armor -Cestus with silver plates over the knuckles -Pack with tinderbox, oil, hooded lamp, rope, a waterskin and a whet stone -Gaming sets with cards and dice -Woolen greatcoat -Stiletto hidden in sleeve
Signature Techniques: -Styles: While familiar with others Teremity usually uses two. Viper's Fang focuses on precise strikes to vital areas to cripple foes, while Tiger's Fury focuses on overwhelming their defense with an unrelenting furry of brutal blows. Teremity switches between them as needed, flowing from one to the next and back again to keep the enemy guessing. -Breakpoint: Channeling her ki into a single strike Temerity can damage or disable equipment by letting energy overwhelm minute imperfections, snapping swords shattering armor and breaking through doors. -Ki Strike: Lashing out at the enemy with the very universe as her weapon. A blast of solid light leaps from her palm and slams into the target, crushing bones and burning flesh. -Preternatural Speed: Temerity doesn't rely on the heavy plate mail of a knight but the agility and reflexes of a seasoned martial artist Temerity is capable of dodging attacks and closing distances almost faster than the eye can see. Bounding off walls and sliding between legs the tiefling uses the battlefield to her advantage. -Dragon's Balance: Her favorite and the newest of all the forms she knows, this style is Temerity's own creation. Allowing her ki to diffuse through her body and spirit Temerity nearly becomes one with universe. Much faster and more powerful than she already is she appears as a whirlwind of limbs and energy blasts moving fluidly from enemy to the next, eyes and horns glowing a pale green. Using this style allows her to perceive “rips” in the universe, teleporting up to fifty feet away. This style takes an extreme toll on her, leaving her drained and vulnerable once it's finished.
History: You'd have to be pretty unlucky to be born a tiefling, or to be abandoned at birth. Some particularly ill-fated children end up being both. Temerity was one of those cursed few, a red-eyed demon child left on the steps of a monastery with nothing more than a blanket and a piece of paper with her name on it. She was brought in the monks and cared for, another lost lamb to raise as part of their flock. This order placed a premium on achieving enlightenment through simplicity in living and mastering their own bodies, eating only plain meals and living in spartan cells. Instead of any one deity they dedicated themselves to studying the natural world and learning to understand the energies that made it work and Temerity would be raised to seek the same understanding.
In theory anyway. In actuality, Temerity was not at all equipped for a life of austere study. Meditation and book learning were so boring they were almost painful, the tiefling constantly sneaking out windows and through side doors to play outside or sneak down to the nearby village instead of doing her studies. By the time she was nine the older monks realized that she would never be a wise scholar or inquisitive researcher. But there was still some hope for her. One of the few daily activities she didn't shirk in favor of mischief-making was her psychical training. The child threw herself into daily runs and sparring matches, practicing the same move hundreds of times over with a dedication that had been unseen before. It wasn't that she was lazy, she simply didn't dedicate time to things that seemed pointless. With martial arts she could watch herself improve and find new goals to meet.
So when she was about ten years old the monks decided to let her immerse herself body and mind in the study of combat to get her to focus on more than idle pleasures. Temerity was able to redirect all that wasted energy into her studies, watching intently as the older monks practiced their forms and working to replicate them as best she could. The young tiefling had a natural aptitude for fighting that was honed to a razor's edge with instruction, building mastery over years of sparring with the other monks and testing herself in bar brawls and prize fights in the town nearby. The daily teachings she had ignored for so long were given begrudging attention, the hot-headed youth learning to calm down and reflect on her inner self find some semblance of inner peace and even subsist without food and water. At seventeen she was an instructor of the young members of the order, teaching them how to harness their energy as she had learned.
But it wasn't meant to last. Temerity was restless withing the confines of the temple, only paying lip service to its structure and tradition because they let her hone her skills. Once she realized they were quickly running out of things to teach her it was only a matter of time before she left to make her own way in the world. The catalyst was when a group of bandits attacked the temple, a foolhardy attempt that was warded off with little loss of life on either side. Temerity begged to be allowed to hunt them down to make sure they wouldn't return but her elders denied her request. The youth was reminded that forgiveness was one of the Heavenly Virtues and vengeance would only weigh her spirit down. It was the the push she needed to leave. Temerity bowed and thanked her masters for taking care of her all these years and giving her purpose and packed up her things, setting out to forge her own path. Out of respect for them the bandits would go unhounded. They were small game anyway. Temerity had rejected the teachings of humility and quiet service to others. She was going to become the best fighter the world had seen, a living legend renowned for her skill or she would die trying.
But before she could do that she would have to finish her training. The next five years were busy, traveling from place to place and taking bounties and winning exhibition bouts for practice by day and meditating to rest and reflect by night. She was working to come up with her own style of martial arts, one that combined physical and spiritual combat better than any of the ones she had been taught. It was slow going, months and months passing without any sort of progress, but her work would eventually pay off. At twenty-four she had it. Her life's work, Dragon's Balance was finally a complete system, rough and contained only in her head but a complete system nonetheless.
Its first few trials by combat were promising illuminated a need for improvement. While undeniably deadly to face the raw strength of body and spirit required was immense. If used for too long she was left completely drained and on the verge of collapse. Most people were completely unable to stand against it for more than a few seconds but particularly dangerous beasts or large groups of well-trained opponents could last long enough that the toll on her body would become unbearable. For the time being she would have to rely on her old teachings while she continued to work on her magnum opus. Her quest led her out of familiar lands and into the dark valley of Barovia to pit herself against whatever challenges she could find.
Appearance: Temerity is taller than many of the people she comes across, standing at about 6'2" or even more if you count her horns. Her species is made obvious by the aforementioned horns, red eyes and blue skin marking her out as one of the half-demons. Her hair is left to run freely down to her back, bangs sometimes obscuring part of her face. Well-built and broad-shouldered her powerful arms are usually left bare to show off her muscles.
The traditional robes of her old order have been modified to suit her wants and needs, quilted padding added to the inner lining to give extra protection from attacks and a hood with holes for her horns sewn on to ward off inclement weather. Bronze vambraces and greaves allow her to deflect blows without weighing her down too much. As a final rejection of her vow of poverty Temerity adorns herself with gold and silver jewelry, piercings in her nose, ears and the spade of her tail and thin chains connecting her horns. They draw the eye to her and what she is, forcing people to be aware of her presence. New pieces are added as she picks up trophies from fights.
Favored Alignment Major and Minor Focuses: Major Focus: Chaotic Minor Focus: Neutral
Favored Class Archetype Major and Minor Focuses: Major Archetype: Skirmisher Minor Archetype: Divine Magic
Equipment: -Steel tonfa -Kusarigama -Meditation mat -Robes and armor -Cestus with silver plates over the knuckles -Pack with tinderbox, oil, hooded lamp, rope, a waterskin and a whet stone -Gaming sets with cards and dice -Woolen greatcoat -Stiletto hidden in sleeve
Signature Techniques: -Styles: While familiar with others Teremity usually uses two. Viper's Fang focuses on precise strikes to vital areas to cripple foes, while Tiger's Fury focuses on overwhelming their defense with an unrelenting furry of brutal blows. Teremity switches between them as needed, flowing from one to the next and back again to keep the enemy guessing. -Breakpoint: Channeling her ki into a single strike Temerity can damage or disable equipment by letting energy overwhelm minute imperfections, snapping swords shattering armor and breaking through doors. -Ki Strike: Lashing out at the enemy with the very universe as her weapon. A blast of solid light leaps from her palm and slams into the target, crushing bones and burning flesh. -Preternatural Speed: Temerity doesn't rely on the heavy plate mail of a knight but the agility and reflexes of a seasoned martial artist Temerity is capable of dodging attacks and closing distances almost faster than the eye can see. Bounding off walls and sliding between legs the tiefling uses the battlefield to her advantage. -Dragon's Balance: Her favorite and the newest of all the forms she knows, this style is Temerity's own creation. Allowing her ki to diffuse through her body and spirit Temerity nearly becomes one with universe. Much faster and more powerful than she already is she appears as a whirlwind of limbs and energy blasts moving fluidly from enemy to the next, eyes and horns glowing a pale green. Using this style allows her to perceive “rips” in the universe, teleporting up to fifty feet away. This style takes an extreme toll on her, leaving her drained and vulnerable once it's finished.
History: You'd have to be pretty unlucky to be born a tiefling, or to be abandoned at birth. Some particularly ill-fated children end up being both. Temerity was one of those cursed few, a red-eyed demon child left on the steps of a monastery with nothing more than a blanket and a piece of paper with her name on it. She was brought in the monks and cared for, another lost lamb to raise as part of their flock. This order placed a premium on achieving enlightenment through simplicity in living and mastering their own bodies, eating only plain meals and living in spartan cells. Instead of any one deity they dedicated themselves to studying the natural world and learning to understand the energies that made it work and Temerity would be raised to seek the same understanding.
In theory anyway. In actuality, Temerity was not at all equipped for a life of austere study. Meditation and book learning were so boring they were almost painful, the tiefling constantly sneaking out windows and through side doors to play outside or sneak down to the nearby village instead of doing her studies. By the time she was nine the older monks realized that she would never be a wise scholar or inquisitive researcher. But there was still some hope for her. One of the few daily activities she didn't shirk in favor of mischief-making was her psychical training. The child threw herself into daily runs and sparring matches, practicing the same move hundreds of times over with a dedication that had been unseen before. It wasn't that she was lazy, she simply didn't dedicate time to things that seemed pointless. With martial arts she could watch herself improve and find new goals to meet.
So when she was about ten years old the monks decided to let her immerse herself body and mind in the study of combat to get her to focus on more than idle pleasures. Temerity was able to redirect all that wasted energy into her studies, watching intently as the older monks practiced their forms and working to replicate them as best she could. The young tiefling had a natural aptitude for fighting that was honed to a razor's edge with instruction, building mastery over years of sparring with the other monks and testing herself in bar brawls and prize fights in the town nearby. The daily teachings she had ignored for so long were given begrudging attention, the hot-headed youth learning to calm down and reflect on her inner self find some semblance of inner peace and even subsist without food and water. At seventeen she was an instructor of the young members of the order, teaching them how to harness their energy as she had learned.
But it wasn't meant to last. Temerity was restless withing the confines of the temple, only paying lip service to its structure and tradition because they let her hone her skills. Once she realized they were quickly running out of things to teach her it was only a matter of time before she left to make her own way in the world. The catalyst was when a group of bandits attacked the temple, a foolhardy attempt that was warded off with little loss of life on either side. Temerity begged to be allowed to hunt them down to make sure they wouldn't return but her elders denied her request. The youth was reminded that forgiveness was one of the Heavenly Virtues and vengeance would only weigh her spirit down. It was the the push she needed to leave. Temerity bowed and thanked her masters for taking care of her all these years and giving her purpose and packed up her things, setting out to forge her own path. Out of respect for them the bandits would go unhounded. They were small game anyway. Temerity had rejected the teachings of humility and quiet service to others. She was going to become the best fighter the world had seen, a living legend renowned for her skill or she would die trying.
But before she could do that she would have to finish her training. The next five years were busy, traveling from place to place and taking bounties and winning exhibition bouts for practice by day and meditating to rest and reflect by night. She was working to come up with her own style of martial arts, one that combined physical and spiritual combat better than any of the ones she had been taught. It was slow going, months and months passing without any sort of progress, but her work would eventually pay off. At twenty-four she had it. Her life's work, Dragon's Balance was finally a complete system, rough and contained only in her head but a complete system nonetheless.
Its first few trials by combat were promising illuminated a need for improvement. While undeniably deadly to face the raw strength of body and spirit required was immense. If used for too long she was left completely drained and on the verge of collapse. Most people were completely unable to stand against it for more than a few seconds but particularly dangerous beasts or large groups of well-trained opponents could last long enough that the toll on her body would become unbearable. For the time being she would have to rely on her old teachings while she continued to work on her magnum opus. Her quest led her out of familiar lands and into the dark valley of Barovia to pit herself against whatever challenges she could find.