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 Imagine this but even more hanging vials, charms, etched bones etc. and more worn and patched clothing Name: Arnaud DeFitch Alias: Hexe Archetype: Very strong preference for Whisper, but can do Leech in a pinch Look: Man; Brooding, irate, scruffy; Worn and patched clothes, Many charms and esoteric items, Long Coat, Wizard Hat, Spirit Mask Heritage: Akoros (An orphan of a poor family, taken in by a local hedge witch as an apprentice) Background: Underworld (Apprentice to a late hedge witch, carrying on her footsteps) Vice / Purveyor: Weird (Nicholas, a hunter and appropriator of strange fauna, flora and fungi that Arnaud needs for various rites and Payments he's managed to rope himself into; can usually be found around Barrowcleft) Insight ••• Hunt Study • Survey • Tinker •• Prowess Finesse Prowl Skirmish Wreck Resolve •• Attune •• Command • Consort Sway Special Abilities
Friends ▲ Quellyn, a witch. A friend and colleague of Arnaud's late teacher whom he has known since childhood. Now a friend colleague of his. Getting in on the years, but an invaluable aid in all matters mystic. ▼ Setarra, a demon. Fancies herself a 'patron'. Arnaud fancies her as 'his biggest mistake to date'. There are not many learned men in a place like Barrowcleft. Arnaud would vehemently argue against this, he has a swift tongue and sharp opinions after all, but even he would be forced to admit he's not learned in the sort of way the fancy folk would recognize or respect as equal. Maesters Seer would malign him a hexweaver, learned Enchanters a charm-peddler. A witch, maybe. A warlock, definitely. But he's a backbone of his local community, as was his late Mistress under whom he studied after being orphaned, and who's little curio shop/witch hut he's continued to inhabit. And said community would vouch for his ability, for though his charms are often unorthodox and his exorcisms... ad hoc, they have the sort of ingenious practicality to them born of poverty, lack of proper grimoires and constant hands-on experience with the occult since before one learned to read that tends to get the job done well and often for cheap. And though Arnaud would malign the Classically Educated as out of touch in his usual grim and acerbic manner, there is something to be said for proper library access, since a good occult lexicon tends to curb problems like having to try and calculate Demonic True Name Gematrias by conjecture alone. A mistake which Arnaud vows he'll never make again. A mistake which might or might not have something to do with his insistence to help form a smuggler crew at the age of 37 in a desperate attempt to help get his hands on a variety of exceedingly rare and possibly entirely mythical reagents and ingredients from all around the World. He won't say. He refuses to. Theantero fucked around with this message at 17:27 on Aug 14, 2019 |
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Aug 9, 2019 00:32
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Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Feedback: Dunslough tends to be inhabited mostly by the truly destitute, or the families of prisoners and forced laborers. Was that the source of your poverty? With your concept, you may also consider Barrowcleft, which while a bit less poor, has a sort of clannish and rustic mentality that suits your hedge wizard concept. Yeah, I supposed Barrowcleft fits better with the theme and aesthetic, and I'll be changing into that. The source of Arnaud's family's poverty is not really a driving motivation, and is really just a conceit to get him where he is. His wish to break free from said poverty and the consequences of his mistakes is a more important character motivation. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:With an anecdote, tell us when your character realized they needed a crew. Maybe it was a score they tried to put on that was bad. Maybe it was something more introspective, but there was a moment where it clicked that you needed to band together. It's possible this isn't the first crew or gang you've run along with, and maybe you even had partnerships (potentially with other PCs, we'll have a chance to build on those connections later) with individuals, but you've never really been a "founder" before of a real venture. This is something special, so tell us what brought your character to that decision and how they look at it. Arnaud sat alone in his hut, having cleared a small space on his cluttered table, upon which he had laid a deck of cards and a single bloodtallow candle to read them by. Baleful shadows flickered upon the grimace on his weary face, as he thought. What had gone wrong? He drew a card, and placed it upon the table. The Star. Upright. Hope. Optimism. The faith in plans coming together. Arnaud nodded. The auspices were aligned. The Vice-Pontiff, though stuffy, would know that. Meaning that he would certainly bring the Ivory Tulip to his next mass at The Sanctorium. But Arnaud knew it also. And he had his grappling hook to climb the spires, the tools to remove a pane of stained glass to get in. He had the potions, to hide his ascent from mortal eyes, and the scapegoat doll to hide their use from those of clearer vision, at least for a time. He had made them himself. They would work flawlessly. He would be there, in wait, before the mass started. He would grab the tulip from the rafters. He would be an ingredient closer to his freedom. But hope is just that. Hope. What do we make of such hope? Death. Upright. Failure. Ill fortune. But in service of change and new beginnings. The potions worked perfectly. The scapegoat doll worked perfectly too, Arnaud could feel the gaze of the Spirit Wardens be channeled through the etched bone piercing his arm, into the similarly pierced doll. But the Spirit Wardens are not fools. After they found the doll, they fairly quickly surmised what was going on. He had bought time. But not enough. Not nearly enough. Especially since he was not quite so nimble as he was when he was younger and the climbing took longer than expected. The Mass was already in progress. Too many people to sneak onto the rafters. He had to take an arcing shot at the tulip from the window. He missed, and barely made it out with his life, all thanks to a well-timed dose of eyeblind at pursuing Bluecoats. An embarrassment. A failure. He could not afford failures. He was running out of time. His eyes drifted over the card again. What is to be learned here? What change is to overcome me? Three of Cups. Upright. Community. Networks. Giving aid, and receiving it. Arnaud's eyes narrowed. He grunted, and cleared the cards away. So be it. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Describe a score the crew might undertake, and the role your character would play. It can be from your character's perspective, or more detached. It can be relatively simple and straightforward, or have many twists and turns along the way. The important thing to communicate is where you (and the character) would see themselves fitting in with a team dynamic. When the spotlight is on them, how do they perform? What is the one unique thing they bring to the crew that no one else quite has? "...And you're sure these things will work?" the cutter asked as she surreptitiously turned around the sharpened and rune-etched femur (from some animal, probably) in her hand. Arnaud, in turn, shot her the angry and indignant glare of somebody who could not believe they were being questioned. "The Deeper Garnets", he explained as one might to a particularly stupid child, "Draw vampires like a moth to a flame. Especially outside the city walls. Have you ever seen what it looks like when a vampire descends upon an unprepared person? Because I have. I've yet to be eaten by a vampire myself, and that's because I know how they work. Do you?" Arnaud leaned in closer, as if to dare the woman to challenge him. She did not say anything, so he continued, "A vampire is a corpse possessed by a spirit. But this is not the proper way of things. And this is something you can remind them of. But only if you know it yourself. I have studied it my whole life. Have you? No? If not, then perhaps you might want to shut up and trust in the fact that those femurs contain words enough to remind the vampire exactly what the World thinks of it. All you need to do is stick it in them for it to leave us alone, which is what you are here to do in the first place." "To stab things", he needlessly clarified, "Not to ask stupid questions." Arnaud took one more check at everyone's equipment, taking note that everyone had a femur and proper protections against possession, and then they left. -- Carefully, Arnaud picked the box open, deftly avoiding the traps with the fingers of a true artisan, and peered at one of the Deeper Garnets through his spirit mask. It was still beautiful. A luscious, deep scarlet unlike any other precious stone. But something was missing. It did not glow in that ephemeral way you could see only if you knew how to look. The poor bastards smuggling in the gems were dead, but this gem proved what had caused it. "One is nearby", he stated, curtly, "More I do not know." "But there are many denizens here, and I am certain one of them will." OOC: Arnaud's biggest contribution will be the preparation of Arcane tools and preparations to the team for scores. Whilst on a job, he specializes in intel with Attune, Study and Survey, as well lockpicking and trap disarmament with Tinker. Tricky Dick Nixon posted:Prompt: Give us a unique, mystical solution to a problem. Specifically, the kind of problem a hedge wizard like yourself might be drawn to. You've given out poultices and charms and all that, but this should be something a bit more formative, something a bit more challenging. It should give us an idea of the character of Arnaud's talents. In which Arnaud proposes an Occult Plan. The crew was in uproar. They had gone to far too much trouble to get those Deeper Garnets into the city just to let them be confiscated and end up in some blighted brighter's mansion vault. But that's where they were. Which was sort of bad, robberies weren't their usual business. So they argued over the mansion blueprints (which their contact swore were accurate), for lack of better knowledge. Except Arnaud. He sat a little ways away, studying the city map, tracing lines on it with his finger, muttering faintly to himself. Finally, in the midst of a particularly loud argument, he piped up. "We won't need to break into the vault", he stated, for a moment shutting everybody up. A moment long enough for him to continue. "It's all in the mystic correspondences of the World", he explained, "Lord Havenridge is a noble, and he loves his jewelry. Nightmarket has the best jewelers in town. He will have a servant go, under a retinue too heavy to assault directly, through Six Towers, to Nightmarket, to his chosen jeweler. But here he makes his error, which no guard may protect against. Because see, Six Towers is the place of obfuscations, lost things and hidden truths. We can perform a Summoning for our lost treasure." "You can... teleport the Garnets to us?" a goon asked, a bit incredulously, causing Arnaud to snap angrily at him. "No. Absolutely not. The Ghost Field is not some window for incompetents to crash through to grab loot. Well, they can try. And then die", he gave the man a pointed look, until he was convinced he was suitably cowed, "Here, for our purposes, think of it like a mirror. Something to reflect with. To redirect with. We cannot teleport the Garnets to us, but we can... coax the World into handing them over. With the proper correspondences." Before anybody could ask what 'correspondences' were, Arnaud continued. "The Deeper Garnets are jewels, small precious things, to be made into jewelry, which speak of your station. What are other similar things that would correspond, metaphorically?" Arnaud thought for a bit, and made more strange signs on the map with his fingers, "Memories. Memories are precious things, especially if secret, which can be made into knowledge, secret knowledge of one's station." Arnaud nodded once more, smirked in a rather self-satisfied sort of way, and slammed a finger on a particular crossing in the Six Towers. "Here. This is the exact middle between Brighstone and Nightmarket. Where clarity is most obfuscated. If we draw the circles and speak the words to the corners, here we can pull the wool over the eyes of reality for long enough for us to convince it that a Damning Secret concerning Lord Havenridge is the one and the same as the Deeper Garnets his servants carry, and perform a bit of sleight of hand by trading one for another. No matter the guards, no matter their equipment or preparedness, fate itself will carry out the exchange." Theantero fucked around with this message at 17:09 on Aug 14, 2019 |
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Aug 14, 2019 16:55
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