Category: Steal this Background

The following character write-up is the for the Savage Worlds game, Rippers.

– – – –

Father Cain kept his one good eye closed as he lay in his own blood – there was less pain that way.  The side of his face was cold.  Strange, the blood coming from his empty eye socket should have felt warm on his face.  “Perhaps, God, you have forsaken me to become cold-blooded…?”  He tried to get up, but exhaustion and pain made him think it better to try later.  For now, he decided to just try to catch his breath on the cold, dark cellar floor.  Years earlier, he would have called it meditation, or focusing his Chi – “Lord, that seems so long ago.”

As Father Cain lay there, blood escaping steadily from his gashing wounds, he contemplated his impendingly probable death, and all the years leading up to this moment.  “Ha.  Funny how these Londoners can never understand how to say my name correctly…”

– – – – 10 years old – – – –

“Kiang, you will go with Master Cho to the island of London.”

“The island of London?  Is it far?”

“Yes, it is far.”

“What will we do there?”

“YOU – will serve Master Cho. [sigh]  Master Cho travels to the Island of London every ten years.  He’s been doing this since well-before you were born… He instructs that you accompany him on this journey, and it should last a full year.”

“Why does he travel there every ten years?  What will we do there?  He’s getting very old, will this be his last trip?  What are the peo…”

“Quiet your words, and your mind.  Be mindful of Master Cho.  And remember to continue your studies.”

– – – – 11 years old – – – –

Young Kiang sat quietly in the back of the room, and thought to himself…  [A very strange building, this is.  And the roads… why do these people lay such stones in the road?  And their hats – why such tall hats?  [groan] Although, I think it’s not so bad compared to the boat that brought us here.]  Even in his chair, on solid ground, he still felt the sway of the boat in the ocean.  [This is a feeling I can’t part with soon enough.]

Kiang sat quietly, though uncomfortably, for quite awhile.  In this room was also Master Cho and a strange Londoner, talking in hushed tones.  [I didn’t know that Master Cho spoke London so well.  I wish I knew what he was saying.]

He could follow along enough to know that the strange man was named Nicodemus, though.

– – – – 12 years old – – – –

Kiang sat with Nicodemus at breakfast at the porch table, a place where Master Cho sat every morning since their arrival.  “Missah Nik-d-mus, wat hahpahn now?”

“Cain… ah, by the lord.  It’s ‘Cain,’ right?  I can never say your name right.  Cain, I’m not going to lie to you.  I can’t arrange for you to go back – I don’t have the resources.  Master Cho’s passing is unfortunate, but at least it was peaceful, in his sleep – I mean.  There are so many worse ways to go.”

Kiang could barely understand Nicodemus… but he understood enough.

“[sigh] Cain, why don’t you come with me to the church.  You’re no Master Cho, but perhaps you can sit for him, at this meeting, anyway.  Everyone will be speaking Latin, and you won’t understand anything, but at least you can sit in for Master Cho.”

– – – – 20 years old – – – –

“Hah!  FATHER Cain.  Kind of has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it, lad?  I’m proud of you, son.  You’re a fine priest, and a fine son.”

Even though Kiang was a foreigner, he still knew that he was too old to be called a lad, but he loved to hear it anyway.  He never knew his real father, and was grateful for the one sitting across the porch table. Nicodemus taught him, as any father should, and he loved him.

“It warms these old bones that you’ve stayed in London, here, with me, and taken to Christ, and that you’ve joined us in the fight.  You didn’t have Christ in that Shaolin Temple, did you, Cain?”

“No, Nick.  We didn’t.”  [Father’s mind is going, we’ve had this conversation twice already.]

“Well, Cain, I’m glad you do now.”

[It’s funny.  Everyone calls me Cain, and not Kiang.  I think them stupid for this, and yet I still can’t say father’s name properly.  Nicko… Nickoday… daymiss… muss.  I give up.]

Nicodemus was old, too old to be hunting demons in the night, but he had a fervor for it that rivaled men a third his age.  “Cain, Master Cho died in his sleep – and I envy him for it – for the horrors we face in the night can turn a bloke to stone, but this is in my blood.  I’ve been hunting for six decades, and I’ll be damned if, when I go, I’m not doing some damage while at it. 

 “I’m sure when it’s your time, Nick, you’ll have the blood of demons spilled all around you, and you can breathe your last breath knowing it is a good death, yes?

“Aye.  Cain, when I do go, I want you to take my claws.  I suppose you’ll be able to put them to better use than I ever did.”

“Yes, Nick.  And I promise to try.”

– – – – 26 years old – – – –

Kiang screamed from exhaustion and cold – the cold coming from – no doubt – a lack of blood.  These vampires were relentless in their torture.  “Why don’t they just kill me?  Why don’t they turn me into one of them?”  Night… after night… after night… the vampires would drink of his blood – not enough to kill him, but enough to take him almost there.  The wounds from the bites were infected, he was weak, and powerless.  One night he didn’t do as he was commanded, and his left eye was plucked out of the socket.  After Kiang’s screaming subsided, they handed his eye back to him.  “Lord, this pain is too much.  I fear I will end my life, even knowing that doing so will damn me to Hell.  Perhaps I have already done so, and this is my Hell?  Can I end my life if I’m already dead?”

– – – – 3 months later – – – –

“It’s ok, Slayer, try not to get up just yet.”

Kiang lay there, wondering why he didn’t hurt as much.  He had a covering over his left eye.  He took a breath, “I’m thirsty.”  Kiang opened his one eye and sat up.  He had a sense of something, some power, some energy, some drive.  He felt… good.  He felt strong… He felt… powerful.  And he liked it.

“Take it easy, lad.  We just sewed you up this morning.”

Kiang looked at the man, and around the room.  This was a doctor, but not just any doctor, a doctor who knew.  There they were, all around the room, blatant clues that showed the doctor to be a slayer.  Wards against demons, crosses, holy water, silver blades, it was all there, and he felt safe.  The doctor opened the curtains, and the room filled with light.  It was so bright that Kiang had to shy away from it.

“You’ve been underground for some time, yes?”

“I guess so.”  Kiang slowly sat up in his bed, trying not to be blinded by the light.

“What faction you with?  Crusaders?  Slayers?”

“Order of St. George.”  There was a tense pause.  Kiang could feel it.  “What?”

The doctor stammered… “I-I-I’m sorry.  I just… we just thought… well… your eye – it was ripped out…”

Kiang sprang up to his feet faster than ever before.  He stared across the room at a mirror.  One would normally walk up to a mirror to see their reflection, but Kiang took no steps.  He slowly unraveled the bandage around his left eye and head.  From the mirror across the room stared back at him a Chinese man with two eyes, one of them colored a demon-black pitch.  Kiang started slowly for the door, but each step took him faster and faster until he was at a full sprint down the stairs.

“We thought they  ripped out your Rippertech!” 

But Kiang couldn’t hear him.

– – – – 2 hours later – – – –

Kiang got to the house and ran inside.  “Nick!  Nick!  I need your help!”  Kiang knew right where Nick would be – in the cellar, topping off yet another bottle of wine.  It was his daily tradition, and he sure knew how to be a mean drunk.  “Nick… “

Of course, Nicodemus was overjoyed to see Kiang, his adopted son, come home alive.  Tears of love ran down his face and onto those of Kiang’s.  But when he finally pulled back, he finally noticed the demon eye, the Rippertech.  Some rippers use Rippertech to help them gain the edge in the fight against demons, but not the Order of St. George – they despised it.  All Nicodemus could see in his drunken stupor was a demon’s eye, and reflexively swung his bottle of wine into Kiang’s head, knocking him down.  Nicodemus went into an evil drunken rage, bashing at Kiang over and over with his fists and the broken bottle, until out of nowhere, he reached down and plucked that evil eye right out of Kiang’s head.  The pain was enough to render Kiang unconscious.

Nicodemus stood up, fumbled over to his famous pair of claws, and hastily and clumsily buckled up the straps.  He fought with dual claws… expensive claws… claws that retracted under the sleeves for hiding.  It’s what made him famous among the faction so many years ago.  And he was going to use them to end Kiang’s life.  The traitor.  The Devil.

Kiang woke up just in time to grab the broken wine bottle and put a stop to Nicodemus.  It didn’t take much – Nicodemus was horribly drunk – and Kiang didn’t even get up to do it – he couldn’t.  As Nicodemus stooped down to end Kiang’s life, Kiang limply reached up and slashed Nicodemus in the throat, spilling blood everywhere.

– – – –

Kiang kept his one good eye closed as he lay in their pool of blood – there was less pain that way.

– – – –

After some time, he found the strength to slowly turn onto his side, where he could begin to carefully unbuckle the claws from Nicodemus’ lifeless arms.  His one good eye remained closed.  Slowly, one by one, the buckles were unlatched, and the claws were softly pulled off.

“Yes, father.  It was a glorious fight.  You killed all the demons.  You were amazing.”

Kiang finally found the strength to get to his knees, and then to his feet.  He walked ever so slowly to the door of the cellar when he stopped for a long, quiet moment.  A few tears ran down his right cheek.

He turned to the side and whispered, “Yes father, you’ve always said my name right.”

This character was made for the Sundered Skies setting, a world torn apart into islands set adrift in the sky.

Horatio was a lowly goblin, drifting in what was left of a wrecked lifeboat. He couldn’t remember what had happened, and couldn’t speak most languages anyway. The lifeboat was orcish though. All he can ever recall starts from this moment forward.

Weeks went by out in the Void, and while thirst and hunger fought for attention in his mind, he also noticed a strange shifting going on within. Bones made snapping sounds and moved. Stuff…inside, that he was vaguely aware that he needed, began to move. His breathing came hard and shallow, and then shot down him in blissful gasps. His legs and arms became longer, stronger. His thinking…things became clearer and a haze he never realized was there…lifted. It was as though he could ‘see’ for the first time. He saw a version of himself as a marauding beast, fangs and claws drenched in blood and wanting more…but he passed it by in his mind, to something else.  One day, he woke to the sound of laughter and singing in a hoarse voice and looked around with a start, only to realize it was himself. Speaking like the Masters used to, and laughing, came easily because of the sheer knowing. These days were filled with bright light, pain, and a birth.

A blessing sent a small shower of rain his way shortly after, and he had enough thought now to capture the water with sailcloth and a chipped bowl. Days more passed before he felt a lurch and heard cracking wood. Looking up in alarm, he found his ravaged craft had hit a tiny island, no bigger than a few hundred feet. He tried to reach out to a passing bush as he drifted passed, but missed. With a cry of frustration, he tried once more to catch something, and yelped in surprise when a strong grip hauled him bodily out of his boat. The sound of deep-throated laughter caused panic and he almost fell off the island as he saw his savoir, a ragged looking human leaning out to him with a grin, several teeth shod in silver.

Months went by. The human pirate known as Blue John took the goblin in, letting him share a corner of the tiny cave on their island, where a natural pool caught the sporadic rains and air ferns frequently came near. He had a quick temper, but a gentle way most of the time, and his long fall from a stricken ship far above left him without working legs. He taught the goblin many things, including giving him his name…said to have been after a buccaneer with a famous sense of humour, since the goblin always made Blue laugh. He explained about the rare Glowborn. He taught him the common tongue, and basic numbers.

And he was there the night Horatio woke up screaming from nightmares, to find the goblin glowing with arcane fire that seemed to be consuming him. Without a thought for himself, Blue straddled him and held him down till the fits and flashes of burning fire passed. Both were injured, but Horatio never forgot this gift of caring, something he had never had…or his given name.

Blue regaled Horatio with tales of daring pirate raids and buccaneers leaping nimbly from rope and crow’s nest, sweeping away foes and stealing their booty and women. Blue also told of his hatred for slavers and how his band was fighting for their lives against a bigger ship when he fell into the Void. Memories of his own hardships as a slave flashed vaguely through Horatio’s mind.

Between Blue’s scavenged belongings and the debris that fell with him, and what was left of Horatio’s lifeboat, the two managed to lash together a real chance at escaping. With excitement dancing in his eyes, Horatio loaded up the raft and came back for Blue. “Father! Today is our day! I can feel it! We will be out of here in…” …But Blue was sitting up with his big grin and eyes glazed. A note was grasped in his scarred hand. His weapons and tricorn hat were neatly set before him. With eyes wide and breath coming heavy, Horatio approached the dead man with huge tears in his eyes, kneeling down and kissing his forehead as he closed his eyelids. With a stifled sob, Horatio took the note and began to read…

“Horatio, I never did knows the likes of someone like yerself. I knows what ye were but ye’ve turned into somethin’ new. Somethin’ I don’t rightly understand. Ye’ve got magic in ye, and ye’ve survived the Glow. Yer smarter than I ever was an’ have a buccaneer’s spirit t’boot. I ain’t ashamed to say I think of ye as me son after what we’ve been through. But I can’t be goin’ with ye. I started feelin’ poorly in me broke legs ‘while back but it’s took hold now, I kin feel me heart actin’ bad sore. Take me things, from one outcast to ‘nother. Make yerself into what ye want t’be. Create yerself. Only you kin decide what you’ll look like t’others, don’t EVER let them decide for ye. Kick arse when it needs kickin’ and grin and be a man t’rest ‘o the time. I’m proud ‘o you. – Blue”

With a heavy heart, Horatio cast off, a flintlock pistol and sabre at his belt, and a battered but well-made tricorn seaman’s hat on his head. In a short time, the once-goblin had transformed in several ways, but the biggest he had yet to realize. The set of pride in his jaw and shoulders, the confident stance in his now-upright frame and sure movements spoke more than anything else. The Skies now were the home of Horatio the Red.

Appearance:
Horatio seems to be a well-groomed goblin with a pale tinge of green to his skin. Large, leaf-shaped ears with several earrings can be seen, as well as small lower fangs and at least three silver capped teeth. A battered tricorn hat with a faded insignia and raven’s feather rests on his head, a second-hand velvet red doublet and pants with faded silver filigree is worn, along with a sash and weapons belt of black. A well-used flintlock pistol and sabre ride his hips, ending in scuffed knee-length boots…all much mended and patched. He grins a lot, especially when someone is startled by his obvious non-human looks, or to mask his anger when he sees an orc or elf. He often wears random rings and bracers, the shinier the better.

Personality:
A lighthearted rogue, Horatio commonly uses the speech of those who travel the Void a lot (be they sailor or pirate). Despite the usual repugnance he receives, he’s always courteous and especially flirtatious to women (of any race). Usually easy going, he can have a temper that flashes suddenly in his big eyes, followed by a flourish of flintlock or sabre and some unseen flash. He has a soft spot for children and those who are helpless or being maltreated though, and will usually come to their aid whenever possible. The same can be said for ‘saving’ any cogs he can get away with as well. He loves climbing and can often be seen using a handy rope, chandelier, or inattentive brigand to swing into a fray.

Goblin Pirate image by Dennis Booth (devillo)

What do Indiana Jones, Tintin, and a wizard all have in common?

Salistone “Stonie” Andronus.  That’s what.

Salistone “Stonie” Andronus is not your typical wizard.  In fact, if it weren’t for his trusty wand, you wouldn’t know that he was a spellcaster at all.  Perhaps it’s his leather armor, his short sword, or his unavoidable knack for getting into trouble that pegs him as a wild and aloof adventurer.  Whatever it is, being a wizard is only part of the package.

Growing up, Stonie had a severe case of A.D.D. – he simply couldn’t sit still.  His curious mind just wandered all over.  He’s no elf, but if it weren’t for the magical gift passed down from his elven great-great-great-great-great grandfather, he never would have been accepted into Emberspire’s School of Wizardry.  Of course, his family donating the funds to build the school’s northwest wing didn’t hurt, either.  Unfortunately (fortunately?) for the school, Stonie left after only his first year, as he simply lost interest in his studies.   There was always something else that seemed more fascinating, more exciting – and that draw finally won him over.

Leaving the school was a breath of fresh air, as it freed him to pursue all the things that he found interesting (not to mention that he wasn’t ready to face his family).  He spent the next few years traveling and working, going wherever and doing whatever interested him.  He took all kinds of odd jobs and went all kinds of weird places.  Really, whatever seemed new and exotic, he was all over it.  It wasn’t until  his great uncle went missing that he returned home.

Havlock, his great uncle, had been obsessed with something called “The Well of Night.”  When Stonie returned home and started flipping through his great uncle’s journal, he instantly found his calling without even realizing it.  Stonie took the journal and went looking for his great uncle – his first great adventure.

For the past five years, Stonie has followed many leads and gone on several adventures.  His great uncle has since been presumed dead, but that hasn’t stopped Stonie from trying to figure out this mystery.  Searching for Havlock has put him through many adventures, putting to use all of Stonie’s skills.  This has resulted in him making a name for himself as an investigator, adventurer,  historian, and archaeologist.  Because of that, he’s taken a position on the Assembly of Advisers, not because he wished to be a “hero” (as most others do), but because it opens up doors and resources that can help him solve the mystery of his great uncle, as well as all of the other mysteries he is destined to take on.

As an adventurer, he often gets into all kinds of trouble, though he rarely fights his way out.  Instead, he relies on his skills, his smarts, and his luck to save his butt.  He knows some spells, but he really only considers those to be  tools to help him as an investigating tomb-raider.  He’s curious, loyal, selfless, heroic, and perhaps a little overconfident – really, though, an all-around, fun and thrill-seeking guy.  The glass is always half full, never half empty.  He’s not in it for the money or the treasure, and doesn’t consider himself to be an “adventurer,” but he certainly does live for it.

Artwork from Greywulf, by special request.