TheFake

Chasers - Boundary of the Crimson Sky [remake]

Sheridan Black

Dangeki Pawn & Parlor Café

The black sportscar cruised through the city streets on a long route that would take it away from what traffic there would be at this time of day. It eased to a gentle stop outside of the cafe and idled for a moment the engine stopped and the female driver stepped out. If Sheridan Black could have looked tired, she would have. She didn't need sleep but after almost a week in Prague taking care of a group of new chasers that had gotten in over their heads and the subsequent twelve hours of flying to get back to Japan she was very much in need of some time to sit down and relax.

Of course work always came first and she reached into the back seat and pulled out a tactical style single shoulder bag before closing the door with a push of her hip. There was always something going on here and it never hurt to be prepared. Sheridan walked in through the door and did her best to ignore the garishly painted Suzuki parked outside. After a moment to appreciate the aroma of coffee and baked goods she walked to the counter to make her order.

"A large coffee, black, and two single espressos, please. I suppose I'll take a carrot muffin as well."

She didn't need the food but it made her feel like she fit in better if she bought something. Sheridan also enjoyed coffee a lot. Before even taking it back to a free table she drank half of the coffee and poured the contents of the two smaller cups into the large one. This concoction and the muffin were carried over to a table near the job board so that she could take a look at the postings while she ate. The graffiti mission looked interesting and it wasn't as if she could be sick anyway.

"Is anyone else working on this graffiti case?"

@McFazzer

Chasers - Boundary of the Crimson Sky [remake]

Sheridan Black

Sheridan Black

---

"If you're still afraid while fighting for your life then you're not fighting hard enough."

---

Name

Sheridan Black

Age

21 years living and 208 dead

Gender

Female

Race

Undead

Height

5'11"

Weight

125lb

Aliases/Titles

"The Spiced Reaper"

---

Appearance

Personality

Being dead has given Sheridan a much more jovial outlook on 'life' than she had ever had while living. In life she was angry an violent but since her death she has wiped the slate clean and given her a much more positive outlook. A century of life has shown her how much larger the world is than just what she experiences and it is now her goal to enjoy as much of it as she can.

Her attempts at being optimistic often fail. Her existence is a lonely one, friendships few and brief. Sometimes she thinks she might welcome an end to her life but fears in death the end that she never did in life.

Background

A lifetime of practicing her craft ended for Sheridan Black with several long inches of cold steel run through her chest after she was (rightly) accused of witchcraft. As her heart stopped beating she whispered a death curse that tore out and killed her attacker where he stood, robbing him of the rest of his life. In return she survived as an undead but cut off from her former power. Sheridan continues her existence by stealing the remaining life from those about to die.

Her mission now is the same as it was in life. She uses whatever means she has access to to help people and to hunt the supernatural things that plague them. Her long lifespan has given her access to great financial means in order to further her goals. Sheridan has the means to operate anywhere in the world and reach any destination within a day. She volunteers to take on jobs overseas that the local chasers might need help with.

Powers

Sheridan is dead in the clinical sense. She doesn't eat, breath or sleep. Her body also doesn't decay nor heal, it retains the characteristics of a fresh corpse. Her muscles are as tireless as she is and are unnaturally strong.

Any light damage her body can recover from given time, she repairs any greater damage that her body takes with needle and thread, often taking pieces from fresh corpses that are reanimated with the same power that keeps her body moving.

Her continued existence is fueled by the life force that she takes from the dying, stealing from them the life that sickness or injury otherwise would.

Skills

Guns - A lack of heartbeat and fatigue make her a formidable marksman. Her aim never wavers and her arms never tire of holding her weapon. A lack of fatigue also means her mind if always focused on the task at hand.

Swords - While not technically proficient with a blade she is competent enough for her endless stamina to outlast most opponents as long as they don't vastly outclass her in skill or strength.

Weapons

Assault rifle - She sees modern weaponry as excessive when compared to what was available in her own time but that doesn't mean that she won't make use of it. Firearms are viewed as a crutch to help her compensate for the loss of her powers.

Sword - A slender straight sword that matches its user.

Equipment

Car - A matte black Nissan GT-R. The trunk carries other weapons for long range and more dangerous threats as the situation demands, things that aren't practical to carry around in public.

Clove spice - Sheridan uses the scent of cloves to mask the slight scent of death that surrounds her. In recent years it is also a sure sign of impending doom for anything that might have cause to fear becoming her next target.

Chasers - Boundary of the Crimson Sky [remake]

Just dropping this here.

Sheridan

Sheridan Black

---

"If you're still afraid while fighting for your life then you're not fighting hard enough."

---

Name

Sheridan Black

Age

21 years living and 208 dead

Gender

Female

Race

Undead

Height

5'11"

Weight

125lb

Aliases/Titles

"The Spiced Reaper"

---

Appearance

Personality

Being dead has given Sheridan a much more jovial outlook on 'life' than she had ever had while living. In life she was angry an violent but since her death she has wiped the slate clean and given her a much more positive outlook. A century of life has shown her how much larger the world is than just what she experiences and it is now her goal to enjoy as much of it as she can.

Her attempts at being optimistic often fail. Her existence is a lonely one, friendships few and brief. Sometimes she thinks she might welcome an end to her life but fears in death the end that she never did in life.

Background

A lifetime of practicing her craft ended for Sheridan Black with several long inches of cold steel run through her chest after she was (rightly) accused of witchcraft. As her heart stopped beating she whispered a death curse that tore out and killed her attacker where he stood, robbing him of the rest of his life. In return she survived as an undead but cut off from her former power. Sheridan continues her existence by stealing the remaining life from those about to die.

Her mission now is the same as it was in life. She uses whatever means she has access to to help people and to hunt the supernatural things that plague them. Her long lifespan has given her access to great financial means in order to further her goals. Sheridan has the means to operate anywhere in the world and reach any destination within a day. She volunteers to take on jobs overseas that the local chasers might need help with.

Powers

Sheridan is dead in the clinical sense. She doesn't eat, breath or sleep. Her body also doesn't decay nor heal, it retains the characteristics of a fresh corpse. Her muscles are as tireless as she is and are unnaturally strong.

Any light damage her body can recover from given time, she repairs any greater damage that her body takes with needle and thread, often taking pieces from fresh corpses that are reanimated with the same power that keeps her body moving.

Her continued existence is fueled by the life force that she takes from the dying, stealing from them the life that sickness or injury otherwise would.

Skills

Guns - A lack of heartbeat and fatigue make her a formidable marksman. Her aim never wavers and her arms never tire of holding her weapon. A lack of fatigue also means her mind if always focused on the task at hand.

Swords - While not technically proficient with a blade she is competent enough for her endless stamina to outlast most opponents as long as they don't vastly outclass her in skill or strength.

Weapons

Assault rifle - She sees modern weaponry as excessive when compared to what was available in her own time but that doesn't mean that she won't make use of it. Firearms are viewed as a crutch to help her compensate for the loss of her powers.

Sword - A slender straight sword that matches its user.

Equipment

Car - A matte black Nissan GT-R. The trunk carries other weapons for long range and more dangerous threats as the situation demands, things that aren't practical to carry around in public.

Clove spice - Sheridan uses the scent of cloves to mask the slight scent of death that surrounds her. In recent years it is also a sure sign of impending doom for anything that might have cause to fear becoming her next target.

[MEDIEVAL, REALISM] Marches of Man: The Black Shields!

Fall looked up as the soldier with the battered face left. The person looking on appeared to be someone that could have made such a request into an order. At the very least she was glad that he wasn't one of the veterans from her old company. She used her sword to lift herself to her feet, sinking the tip of the scabbard into the mud. "Sure, but don't expect much."

With her weapon balanced on one shoulder and a shoulder bag over the other Fall followed the northerner to his tent. It would serve her well to put some more effort into her work this time, being on the good side of the people that give the orders is never a bad thing. She dug in her pouch for a fresh needle and gut. The way things were going she would have to find more before long.

As the armor came off she took a long look at the tribal markings. It would be nice if she could avoid damaging them though this would be easier if he were to stop moving around. Her stitches were more confident this time as a novice might be more confident working on an arm than a face. Her mind wandered as she worked. What had these people been doing that had gotten one of them injured so quickly. They'd not been here long and any enemy sightings would have roused the whole camp.

The would was closed with only a handful of careful stitches placed carefully so that none lay directly on top of any of the markings. She dug in her shoulder bag and pulled out some linen bandages. She wiped the blood off and started to wrap his arm. She spoke softly "I'm not going to tell you not to use the arm but If you pull these out I might be upset."

[MEDIEVAL, REALISM] Marches of Man: The Black Shields!

@Pirouette ouch, that's why I've started a Google doc for all of my characters

Chasers - Boundary of the Crimson Sky [remake]

Hey now, when did this happen and how did I not notice until now? If any spots open up I am totally down to hop in.

[MEDIEVAL, REALISM] Marches of Man: The Black Shields!

Even though she could read and write, Fall had just signed with an X at the recruiting station. Autumn could read, as was right for the daughter of a merchant. It was just something else to distance this quiet but cheerful girl from the one that had walked away from that bloody battle. She'd come in during the middle of the recruiting and gotten into the camp much easier than expected and without crossing any of her old comrades.

Now she smiled as she worked, a bone needle and catgut thread closing up a still bleeding gash in a mans face. Her long gauntlets were tossed over her left shoulder and her fingers appeared to be hesitant as they made crooked stitches along his jawline. It was going to leave a very ugly scar. The clumsiness was an act. A simple cut like this was something she could take care of in just a minute with stitches so neat as to look almost artistic.

"It would really be better if you had gone to a proper healer, even if you would have gotten into shit for fighting. I told you I could, not that I was good at it."

The fellow grimaced as she jabbed him once before the needle found it's mark.

"I would have gone to that cook but she's disappeared with that northern sergeant."

He'd gotten onto the wrong side of some other recruits and come off a little the worse for wear with a cut face and bruised pride. Fall had been in the scuffle and come off with no more than bruises. This one was the only person to need actual medical attention. She treated him as an equal, another new recruit. Making friends to keep her distant from the veterans would be a smart move going forward.

After one last knot she cut the thread and dropped the needle back into a small leather belt pouch. She patted him on the shoulder.

"Now try not to make a fool of yourself again."

[MEDIEVAL, REALISM] Marches of Man: The Black Shields!

And my character is up!

[MEDIEVAL, REALISM] Marches of Man: The Black Shields!

Fall

"The thin line between death and survival is a surgeons thread."

Fall is a young woman with a toned body that is obviously not a stranger to hard work or the rigors of combat. She is slightly on the short side with a lightweight build. Her face is unmarked but under her armour her left arm is marked with several scars from painful lessons learned in combat. Her hair is dyed dark from its natural light colour. Despite her Monarchist faith she wears no iconography and avoids any other ornamentation.

---

【Full Name】

Autumn Glest Fall Talon

【Aliases】

Tal

【Age】

24

【Sex】

Female

【Sexuality】

Straight

【Religion】

Monarchist

【Family】

If you were to ask her, none, although she does have an older brother still living in their family home. Although lame in one leg he manages to keep the family trading business going smoothly. He believes her dead.

【Birthplace】

The Tanmura Valley, in the eastern portion of the Grosswick region.

【Societal standing】

lowborn

【Former employment】

Veteran of a short time with the White Oaks. She was a battlefield surgeon.

【Rank and role】

New Recruit

---

【Personality】

Fall is naturally cold but tries very hard to be personable and friendly. She smiles a lot and likes to be helpful. When addressed directly she can seem nervous or flustered but is confident when the situation is in her control. Internally she has a lust for violence that shows itself in conflict.

【History】

Autumn Glest was born to a small merchant family of modest means. Her life in the valley was unremarkable in every way. After the death of their parents to raiders in the east in the same attack where her brother was injured he took over the business in an administrative role while Autumn volunteered for service in the White Oaks company. She doesn't know what prompted such a drastic action but deep down suspects that it was a combination of a thirst for adventure that was unquenched by her boring life and a need for revenge, no matter how slim that chance that she might find the men that killed her parents.

Her time in the company lasted only a handful of years, during which she learned to be a proficient battlefield surgeon and took pride in saving the lives of those that she fought beside. Things went well enough for a young woman in the military until the massacre against Cherwin. There she saw the insides of more men over a few days than most soldiers saw in their entire careers. Lives she could not save slipped through her fingers like grains of sand and even those that she caught could very rarely be said to be in one piece.

The horrors she saw changed her and awakened an affinity for violence. Her comrades saw it in the way that she paid little heed to the pain that the wounded were in and the almost gleeful way she looked at the next in line. In the back of her mind she wondered about being on the other end, turning men into these puzzles of broken flesh that she now struggled to put back together.

In the chaos she disappeared and was presumed dead. Autumn came up with a new name and history, dying her hair dark and giving herself a new personality. With any luck nobody would thank that this smiling recruit could be a survivor of that battle. She signed up under the guise of Fall Talon, a caravan guard from Murkran looking for more steady employment.

【Dreams, short term goals, and fears.】

Fall avoids anyone from the former White Oaks company, fearing that she would be recognized.

---

【Skills】

Fall has been trained as a surgeon and is adept at saving lives in the heat of battle. Along with this she knows just what sort of wounds are the most difficult to tend to and recover from.

【Martial prowess】

Her skill with a blade is above that of a new recruit. The opportunity to practice with long time veterans served her well in honing her ability.

【Combat style】

She is aggressive and will press the attack to keep an advantage. She does not wait for a chance to make a lethal blow but will take any opening to wear down an enemy by slowly cutting them apart.

【Weaponry】

She favours her battered longsword. The grip and sheath have been reworked to eliminate any traces of her past. The blade has worn to a grey patina that is only reflective along its honed edge. She has no particular attachment to it but is familiar with the balance and was reluctant to purchase something new.

【Armor】

Her armour is the light steel and padded leather that which was once issued to her. The metal has been scoured of any marking and it has obviously been repaired many times. It is well worn and is the same grey as her sword. She tells anyone who asks that it was purchased as damaged surplus.

[MEDIEVAL, REALISM] Marches of Man: The Black Shields!

@Errant Son Off to work on a CS then. Totally not an assassin.