Post by Josmyn Martell on Aug 5, 2012 11:28:03 GMT -5
Desired Character: Amelyssan Darkette
Character Gender: Female
Character House: Darkette
Character Alignment Herself , Sometimes Darkettes
Character Appearance
Character's Goals
Simple. More money, more power. Preferably to continue to have her ranks swell in size, and become a force to be reckoned with.
Character History thus far
"There is a reason the Darkette Crest is of a serpent ready to strike. Their house lies in wait and looses its venom when most convenient."
Early in its history, the Darkette family claimed lineage to that of Daemon Blackfyre, bastard child of Aemon IV Targaryen and responsible party of the Blackfyre Rebellions. This lineage has been... difficult to trace, even for most historians, which is perhaps the reason that they have survived through so many Targaryens. Assuming, of course, their lineage is true. Even the Darkette's have forgotten if their claim is genuine, or simply another of the many lies that they have told in their extensive, checkered history.
With each new Targaryen, their claim to their ancestry became fainter still. When Robert Baratheon rose to power, they were eager to sink their blades into the backs of their distant relatives, and were rewarded for the slaying of their kin.
The small house was elevated and awarded a modest, but still sizable piece of land in exchange for their part in Robert's claim. Unfortunately, this slight elevation in their position has done little to improve their company. Though not exactly common knowledge, the house is known to consort with criminals and mercenaries alike. Few would trust a Darkette as far as they could throw them.
- - - - -
Amelyssan was the fourth child, and second daughter born to Vaughan and Seras Darkette . Perhaps it was the grey of her eye or the curve of her jaw, but Vaughan always doubted the legitimacy of his youngest descendant. A lesser man, Vaughan was unable to voice his opinion, for fear that his wife's family's coffers would run dry. But the suspicion was made event by the increasing distance from his wife, and the complete absence in Amelyssan's life.
Life was strange for Amelyssan. Her eldest brother, Emil, was already on the edges of his sixteenth birthday by the time Amelyssan was five. This meant that Emil was thoroughly educated in all diplomatic matters, was well-versed in the ways in which a noble ruled over his estate, and was already in the middle of correspondence with his bride-to be. Jacques, almost thirteen, was a swordsman to be envied by most. And Felicia was groomed well in how to be nothing short of a lady of high birth. Everyone, save Felicia, was too old to entertain their younger sister, and Felicia's contact was kept minimal.
And Emil, much like his father, did not trust Amelyssan's lineage.
Seras' focus was ever on her youngest. From the earliest age, she filled her mind with fantastic stories, and folk legends of old, romantic notions of a sort. Whatever her interest at the time, she ensured that she had the means to pursue it. Amelyssan spent a great deal of her youth with her nose in a book, but spent just as much time getting her hands dirty. Each midday, she would ride into the fields and to the forest outlying her father's estate, where she would spend many hours drinking from streams, hunting animals with a sling, or perched under the shady lofts of a tree.
Things were easy, but Seras could only shield her daughter from her husband for so long.
At the age of nine, Amelyssan's chief interest became that of archery. However, none were the masters of it that she or her mother would like. When Seras petitioned those abroad to teach her daughter, Vaughan put his foot down, and outwardly refused on the basis of gender. Here, Seras had little room to argue, and though her child remained willful and pressed the issue, her requests went unanswered. With a sigh and little in the way of protest, her mother had resigned her to be groomed for marriage and learn the ways of a lady.
Amelyssan hated what was to become over her more than most. Her mother had always obliged her and granted her that which she desired most, but no more. Now she was to humor her father and curtsey to all the sons of every lord, and wait for a time which one of them might notice her and ask for her hand.
At the age of eleven, she began to sneak out in trade caravans and travel far from her father's estate. Sensing the growing level of displeasure in her child, Seras called upon someone she could trust to properly deal with the situation. Amelyssan's father. Vaughan had been incorrect in the assumption that Amelyssan's father was that of a nobleman--he was of common birth. And one of the many, many criminals that Vaughan kept in his company. A sellsword of some skill and rank.
She asked that he take their child in the dead of night.
He did. Prior to her retirement that eve, Abraxas saw that her drink was drugged. At the darkest hour of twilight he plucked her from her bed, and spirited her away. When she came to, she was far beyond the lands of the estate, and left to grasp at their location.
She recognized the man who had abducted her but hadn't the faintest idea of his relation to her, nor his intentions. Struggling against him, she tore into the flesh of his hand with her teeth, jumped from the horse and took to the forest along the path they were traveling. For a while she was able to evade him, but not as long as she would have liked. Seizing his daughter, he flung her over her shoulder and attempted to explain their relation to her. Amelyssan was skeptical, but with a letter from her mother, one that he had been unable to produce prior to her escape, she was left to deal with the reality of the situation.
Her father would be pursued, for a time, if only so Vaughan could appear properly concerned, and then the chase would be abandoned. Though she realized an incredible opportunity lay before her, Amelyssan, so used to the presence of her mother, had difficulty adjusting. Life without Seras was not a comfortable one, nor was life on the road.
While Amelyssan was adjusting, Abraxas began to look for work, and proffered his services as a sellsword. Refusing to allow Amelyssan to lose all ambition, Abraxas took her along on some of the missions. This helped quicken her adjustments, and once more whet her appetite for archery.
After Abraxas' first successful hire-on, he bought her a bow and taught her how to nock the bow and loose an arrow. This gesture, though small, helped to cement Amelyssan's respect for her true father. Their bond grew the more he taught her. And though he was not as shrewd or well-read as many nobles, he had a cunning and natural intelligence that was nothing to be trifled with. The fact that he was willing to make his daughter into a warrior only credited him further in her eyes.
She found that Abraxas' rather curt nature made him easier to talk to than most of the serpentine nobility she'd spent her life with. He spoke his mind and made it clear what he was thinking, and properly expressed his opinions on the situation. Yet, he possessed loyalty and some idealistic notions that made it easy to see why her mother had consorted with him in the first place.
Moons passed and Amelyssan's skill with the bow had grown tenfold. When womanhood was upon her at the age of fourteen, she was already an incredible shot. Incredible enough that her father utilized her abilities on various mercenary excursions. The two of them served a variety of people well, and garnered a reputation of sorts. A reputation as good as any sellsword could hope to possess.
For Amelyssan, however, honor was not a priority--she was, after all, raised by the Darkettes. When she and her father would separate for a time, she would go to the seedier districts of cities that they passed through, and observe the crime that took place there. She watched as silver-tongued men robbed tourists of every coin without even having to lift a blade. She watched as thugs extorted shop keeps. She watched as urchins would bury their fists into coin purses and take all that they could carry without being noticed.
Pick pocketing and sleight of hand was the next skill that she taught herself. When her father was not around, she paid urchins to teach her the craft, and perfected it as she would over many months.
At age seventeen, something rather unexpected happened. Emil Darkette of her house was traveling along the same road as she and Abraxas were. Though it had been several years since he had seen her, her blonde hair and facial structure was distinctly familial. Less shamed by her status than Vaughan, Emil and his men wasted no time in loosing a rain of arrows upon Abraxas. Amelyssan didn't have time to recover when they approached her.
Father dead, Amelyssan was returned to the Darkette estate. It seemed that Vaughan had passed some time during her absence. Their mother, however, was very much alive. Seras welcomed her with open arms and sobbed upon her return, for good measure. Amelyssan had difficulty with painting Abraxas as some evil abductor, but did so, if only to corroborate her mother's story.
None, save for Seras and Amelyssan herself, ever knew what relation Abraxas bore to Amelyssan. Assuming that Abraxas had violated her repeatedly (when in reality she'd simply patroned a gigolo several times), Emil made no effort to even attempt to marry off Amelyssan. A soiled flower and the youngest daughter would draw little. This left Amelyssan to her own devices. She had to readjust to a lifestyle from which she had long been separated, and had to grow acquainted to life without her father.
When she finally acclimated herself again, things became very clear about Amelyssan's personality. Though she'd always been willful even as a child, her time abroad under the mercenary's care had hardened not only her mind, but her heart. Empowered and venomous, she did as she pleased, when she pleased. More familiar with the criminal lot than even her brother, she propositioned that she deal with the sellswords, thieves, and assassins that her family had on hire directly.
Though Emil was reluctant at first, a well-worded argument helped to pave the way. She was granted oversight of the men. Unfortunately, this did little to help the restlessness growing within her. Already finding the routines of affluent life to be extremely tedious and dull, the influence of the men did little to aid the matter. They spoke of conquests, of action, of crime, and it only whet her appetite for the lifestyle she'd led with Abraxas.
Overseeing the men, she did as she was expected to. She managed them and let them perform their tasks for the family. In secret, however, she groomed the most competent, intelligent, and trustworthy men and made them her elite. When she could, she would take these elite and travel. Hard-headed and without her father, she bent her head to no man and used these man for ambushes of caravans and parties. Ambushes that bandits were wont to do.
These excursions were few and far between, with great distance between them, as so they could not easily be tracked.
After the third one, however, Emil became suspect of the identities of these men and their leader, even though they were under the guise of masks and cloaks. Already consorting with criminals, however, he made no notion to stop it.
In the wake of Ned Stark's death and the rise of the various Kingdoms against the crown, this band of bandits has only prospered further. No longer having to worry about armies being sent to seize them, the raids have become far, far more frequent. Rumors about a band of men dressed in bird masks has surfaced, and has the skill of their leader. Said to be able to split an arrow in twain with another, the leader, dressed as a Black Hawk, seems a force to be reckoned with.
Character Personality
Many tales have circulated about the Black Hawk and her gang of highwaymen, and so, Amelyssan has been painted in many lights, some of which are romantic, others of which are exaggerated, and others still closer to the truth, and considerably more flattering. Most stories about the bandit share a common thread, however, beyond that of her mask, or garb. Their leader is fair. "Fair", however, is a wholly subjective terminology for Amelyssan. While she brandishes the words "stand and deliver", and will offer most a way out of the death that could await them, that is, perhaps, the only courtesy she would offer. She would not allow them to keep their horses to hasten their journey, nor leave them with any rations. Perhaps the only thing that they are permitted to keep is their clothing, and even then, if one is a particularly attractive, and irreverent male, she might strip him for the humiliation of it. The same could be said of woman, if Amelyssan's men need to feast their eyes upon something pretty.
But this isn't to say that she's a merciful woman, or even reluctant to kill. While Amelyssan takes no delight in the act of murder itself, she will not hesitate to do it, nor will she regret taking another's life. This stands at odds with her rather thrill-seeking nature, that revels in violent escapades and athletic excursions, leaving her with a general love of combat and duels, but general indifference to murder.
This has left Amelyssan overall, jaded, and morally grey. Since she murders and steals, why should she care if someone else is a pick pocket, a conman, or a pirate, even? No skin off her teeth what other people are doing, provided, of course, that they don't do it to her. In fact, she's become so jaded that she's generally distrusting of those who appear to be "too pure", or "too moral". Not only does she find these types to be incredibly boring, but she'll poke and prod where she can in an attempt to expose hidden sins or concealed corruption. In general, Amelyssan does not believe in the "human spirit", or "goodwill of man", and generally won't trust others as far as she can throw them. Which leaves her reluctant to involve herself in any emotional capacity with anyone, and has led to her sleeping with one eye open.
Then there are the more social aspects of Amelyssan's character. Raised as a noblewoman, Amelyssan learned much of the art of conversation, diplomacy, observation, and manipulation. In short, she is quite skilled at noticing the weaknesses of others, and wording herself in just such a way as to conceal her true intentions. This is rarely required in her line of work, however, and is only used in social excursions with her family.
Last but not least is Amelyssan's pride, which has left her a damn stubborn, and incredibly spiteful woman. Amelyssan's will is not one to be tested. She cannot be dissuaded from her course of action, and any attempts to do so, particularly if it involves lecturing or insults, will make her extremely likely to do it anyway. Or do the opposite of whatever the individual is advising, even if she hadn't initially considered it. This proud nature and stubborn streak, has also led her to be rather unflappable. Aided by her jaded nature, her pride makes it so she simply does not appear to be impressed by anything, if even it is impressive.
Family Members or Important People
Vaughan Darkette ("father", deceased)
Seras Darkette (mother)
Emil Darkette (brother)
Jacques Darkette (brother)
Felicia Darkette (sister)
Abraxas Everfell (biological father)
Sample RoleplayHe was but driftwood on a title wave, subject to the twists and turns of the storm at this back. And when the tide swept him ashore, and the clouds finally parted, he couldn't help but feel a roguish smile curl the corners of his mouth. Was it fate that someone would want to employ him here? Or just circumstance? He could never be sure. This city, his pyre. Within the recesses of the concrete jungle, where the aromatic perfume of human decay was at its most potent, he'd been murdered and tossed among the refuse. And it was there that he first felt the delightful tingling sensation of his flesh knitting back together as he was pulled back from death's embrace.
But as he walked into the outer reaches of the city, he couldn't help but observe the differences, and draw parallels to the changes that he'd undergone since last he visited. Sections hung open like old wounds, and debris was scattered about haphazardly, metallic and stone innards glistening in the moonlight. A scent wafted off of the city, somehow more desperate than ever before. And in spite of all the illusions he wore, he couldn't help but to shiver with anticipation as a shrill scream cut through the droning murmur of a ravaged city.
It seemed that his timing was... convenient.
Among the human filth and sullied skin of current residents, the foreigner stood out like a beacon. The crisp cut of an Armani suit, untarnished by gutter water or the faint dust of the barrage of explosions practically begged for violence to befall him. But it never seemed to. For minutes, the foreigner strode, majestically as he surveyed his surroundings, until, finally, he saw it. Whatever it was did not matter, as the vicissitudes of Johnny's mind made it difficult to attach meaning to anything. It just looked perfect for what he had in mind.
Tossing purpose into the wind, Johnny decided to forego finding the individual that hired him, and instead focused on the task at hand. A mahogany hand reached into the depths of his suit's jacket, 'til his fingers laced around the cold texture of metal. The item whispered gently against his fabric as he withdrew it, as if warning of things to come. The foreigner pressed the metal to his plush lips, and then seized its flesh between his teeth. His arm then blurred through the air with sudden movement, fingers unraveling. The body of metal tore a window asunder, and then bounced but once, before...
A shockwave flowed around him, and the concussion that followed pushed him backward, travelling through the air, shaking nearby structures as it shattered any remaining windows. Cars that were still in tact sounded in protest. The eyes that were peering out of the darkness, falling upon the stranger now shut, and drew in upon themselves. All save for those at his back.
Madmen and murderers turned to him, pools shimmering in the moonlight as their bellies rumbled something ravenous. Those more seasoned and sane among them fell out of formation, fleeing. But the foolhardy remained, spurred on by the luster of the man's clothes, or the promise that, were they quick enough, explosives would fall into their grasp. The leader of the pack twitched a signal, and the beasts broke out into a run, flinging their strained bodies through the air, encompassing the foreigner with zeal. Each of them brandishing a wicked weapon, a piece of rubble repurposed just for those who happened to cross their path.
"Do you have any more of those?" Their leader asked, swinging a small piece or rebar all the while.
"Ah'unno. Why don'tcha c'mere an' find out?"
(This is from another site--I hope that's acceptable!)
How did you find us? An ad.
Character Gender: Female
Character House: Darkette
Character Alignment Herself , Sometimes Darkettes
Character Appearance
Character's Goals
Simple. More money, more power. Preferably to continue to have her ranks swell in size, and become a force to be reckoned with.
Character History thus far
"There is a reason the Darkette Crest is of a serpent ready to strike. Their house lies in wait and looses its venom when most convenient."
Early in its history, the Darkette family claimed lineage to that of Daemon Blackfyre, bastard child of Aemon IV Targaryen and responsible party of the Blackfyre Rebellions. This lineage has been... difficult to trace, even for most historians, which is perhaps the reason that they have survived through so many Targaryens. Assuming, of course, their lineage is true. Even the Darkette's have forgotten if their claim is genuine, or simply another of the many lies that they have told in their extensive, checkered history.
With each new Targaryen, their claim to their ancestry became fainter still. When Robert Baratheon rose to power, they were eager to sink their blades into the backs of their distant relatives, and were rewarded for the slaying of their kin.
The small house was elevated and awarded a modest, but still sizable piece of land in exchange for their part in Robert's claim. Unfortunately, this slight elevation in their position has done little to improve their company. Though not exactly common knowledge, the house is known to consort with criminals and mercenaries alike. Few would trust a Darkette as far as they could throw them.
- - - - -
Amelyssan was the fourth child, and second daughter born to Vaughan and Seras Darkette . Perhaps it was the grey of her eye or the curve of her jaw, but Vaughan always doubted the legitimacy of his youngest descendant. A lesser man, Vaughan was unable to voice his opinion, for fear that his wife's family's coffers would run dry. But the suspicion was made event by the increasing distance from his wife, and the complete absence in Amelyssan's life.
Life was strange for Amelyssan. Her eldest brother, Emil, was already on the edges of his sixteenth birthday by the time Amelyssan was five. This meant that Emil was thoroughly educated in all diplomatic matters, was well-versed in the ways in which a noble ruled over his estate, and was already in the middle of correspondence with his bride-to be. Jacques, almost thirteen, was a swordsman to be envied by most. And Felicia was groomed well in how to be nothing short of a lady of high birth. Everyone, save Felicia, was too old to entertain their younger sister, and Felicia's contact was kept minimal.
And Emil, much like his father, did not trust Amelyssan's lineage.
Seras' focus was ever on her youngest. From the earliest age, she filled her mind with fantastic stories, and folk legends of old, romantic notions of a sort. Whatever her interest at the time, she ensured that she had the means to pursue it. Amelyssan spent a great deal of her youth with her nose in a book, but spent just as much time getting her hands dirty. Each midday, she would ride into the fields and to the forest outlying her father's estate, where she would spend many hours drinking from streams, hunting animals with a sling, or perched under the shady lofts of a tree.
Things were easy, but Seras could only shield her daughter from her husband for so long.
At the age of nine, Amelyssan's chief interest became that of archery. However, none were the masters of it that she or her mother would like. When Seras petitioned those abroad to teach her daughter, Vaughan put his foot down, and outwardly refused on the basis of gender. Here, Seras had little room to argue, and though her child remained willful and pressed the issue, her requests went unanswered. With a sigh and little in the way of protest, her mother had resigned her to be groomed for marriage and learn the ways of a lady.
Amelyssan hated what was to become over her more than most. Her mother had always obliged her and granted her that which she desired most, but no more. Now she was to humor her father and curtsey to all the sons of every lord, and wait for a time which one of them might notice her and ask for her hand.
At the age of eleven, she began to sneak out in trade caravans and travel far from her father's estate. Sensing the growing level of displeasure in her child, Seras called upon someone she could trust to properly deal with the situation. Amelyssan's father. Vaughan had been incorrect in the assumption that Amelyssan's father was that of a nobleman--he was of common birth. And one of the many, many criminals that Vaughan kept in his company. A sellsword of some skill and rank.
She asked that he take their child in the dead of night.
He did. Prior to her retirement that eve, Abraxas saw that her drink was drugged. At the darkest hour of twilight he plucked her from her bed, and spirited her away. When she came to, she was far beyond the lands of the estate, and left to grasp at their location.
She recognized the man who had abducted her but hadn't the faintest idea of his relation to her, nor his intentions. Struggling against him, she tore into the flesh of his hand with her teeth, jumped from the horse and took to the forest along the path they were traveling. For a while she was able to evade him, but not as long as she would have liked. Seizing his daughter, he flung her over her shoulder and attempted to explain their relation to her. Amelyssan was skeptical, but with a letter from her mother, one that he had been unable to produce prior to her escape, she was left to deal with the reality of the situation.
Her father would be pursued, for a time, if only so Vaughan could appear properly concerned, and then the chase would be abandoned. Though she realized an incredible opportunity lay before her, Amelyssan, so used to the presence of her mother, had difficulty adjusting. Life without Seras was not a comfortable one, nor was life on the road.
While Amelyssan was adjusting, Abraxas began to look for work, and proffered his services as a sellsword. Refusing to allow Amelyssan to lose all ambition, Abraxas took her along on some of the missions. This helped quicken her adjustments, and once more whet her appetite for archery.
After Abraxas' first successful hire-on, he bought her a bow and taught her how to nock the bow and loose an arrow. This gesture, though small, helped to cement Amelyssan's respect for her true father. Their bond grew the more he taught her. And though he was not as shrewd or well-read as many nobles, he had a cunning and natural intelligence that was nothing to be trifled with. The fact that he was willing to make his daughter into a warrior only credited him further in her eyes.
She found that Abraxas' rather curt nature made him easier to talk to than most of the serpentine nobility she'd spent her life with. He spoke his mind and made it clear what he was thinking, and properly expressed his opinions on the situation. Yet, he possessed loyalty and some idealistic notions that made it easy to see why her mother had consorted with him in the first place.
Moons passed and Amelyssan's skill with the bow had grown tenfold. When womanhood was upon her at the age of fourteen, she was already an incredible shot. Incredible enough that her father utilized her abilities on various mercenary excursions. The two of them served a variety of people well, and garnered a reputation of sorts. A reputation as good as any sellsword could hope to possess.
For Amelyssan, however, honor was not a priority--she was, after all, raised by the Darkettes. When she and her father would separate for a time, she would go to the seedier districts of cities that they passed through, and observe the crime that took place there. She watched as silver-tongued men robbed tourists of every coin without even having to lift a blade. She watched as thugs extorted shop keeps. She watched as urchins would bury their fists into coin purses and take all that they could carry without being noticed.
Pick pocketing and sleight of hand was the next skill that she taught herself. When her father was not around, she paid urchins to teach her the craft, and perfected it as she would over many months.
At age seventeen, something rather unexpected happened. Emil Darkette of her house was traveling along the same road as she and Abraxas were. Though it had been several years since he had seen her, her blonde hair and facial structure was distinctly familial. Less shamed by her status than Vaughan, Emil and his men wasted no time in loosing a rain of arrows upon Abraxas. Amelyssan didn't have time to recover when they approached her.
Father dead, Amelyssan was returned to the Darkette estate. It seemed that Vaughan had passed some time during her absence. Their mother, however, was very much alive. Seras welcomed her with open arms and sobbed upon her return, for good measure. Amelyssan had difficulty with painting Abraxas as some evil abductor, but did so, if only to corroborate her mother's story.
None, save for Seras and Amelyssan herself, ever knew what relation Abraxas bore to Amelyssan. Assuming that Abraxas had violated her repeatedly (when in reality she'd simply patroned a gigolo several times), Emil made no effort to even attempt to marry off Amelyssan. A soiled flower and the youngest daughter would draw little. This left Amelyssan to her own devices. She had to readjust to a lifestyle from which she had long been separated, and had to grow acquainted to life without her father.
When she finally acclimated herself again, things became very clear about Amelyssan's personality. Though she'd always been willful even as a child, her time abroad under the mercenary's care had hardened not only her mind, but her heart. Empowered and venomous, she did as she pleased, when she pleased. More familiar with the criminal lot than even her brother, she propositioned that she deal with the sellswords, thieves, and assassins that her family had on hire directly.
Though Emil was reluctant at first, a well-worded argument helped to pave the way. She was granted oversight of the men. Unfortunately, this did little to help the restlessness growing within her. Already finding the routines of affluent life to be extremely tedious and dull, the influence of the men did little to aid the matter. They spoke of conquests, of action, of crime, and it only whet her appetite for the lifestyle she'd led with Abraxas.
Overseeing the men, she did as she was expected to. She managed them and let them perform their tasks for the family. In secret, however, she groomed the most competent, intelligent, and trustworthy men and made them her elite. When she could, she would take these elite and travel. Hard-headed and without her father, she bent her head to no man and used these man for ambushes of caravans and parties. Ambushes that bandits were wont to do.
These excursions were few and far between, with great distance between them, as so they could not easily be tracked.
After the third one, however, Emil became suspect of the identities of these men and their leader, even though they were under the guise of masks and cloaks. Already consorting with criminals, however, he made no notion to stop it.
In the wake of Ned Stark's death and the rise of the various Kingdoms against the crown, this band of bandits has only prospered further. No longer having to worry about armies being sent to seize them, the raids have become far, far more frequent. Rumors about a band of men dressed in bird masks has surfaced, and has the skill of their leader. Said to be able to split an arrow in twain with another, the leader, dressed as a Black Hawk, seems a force to be reckoned with.
Character Personality
Many tales have circulated about the Black Hawk and her gang of highwaymen, and so, Amelyssan has been painted in many lights, some of which are romantic, others of which are exaggerated, and others still closer to the truth, and considerably more flattering. Most stories about the bandit share a common thread, however, beyond that of her mask, or garb. Their leader is fair. "Fair", however, is a wholly subjective terminology for Amelyssan. While she brandishes the words "stand and deliver", and will offer most a way out of the death that could await them, that is, perhaps, the only courtesy she would offer. She would not allow them to keep their horses to hasten their journey, nor leave them with any rations. Perhaps the only thing that they are permitted to keep is their clothing, and even then, if one is a particularly attractive, and irreverent male, she might strip him for the humiliation of it. The same could be said of woman, if Amelyssan's men need to feast their eyes upon something pretty.
But this isn't to say that she's a merciful woman, or even reluctant to kill. While Amelyssan takes no delight in the act of murder itself, she will not hesitate to do it, nor will she regret taking another's life. This stands at odds with her rather thrill-seeking nature, that revels in violent escapades and athletic excursions, leaving her with a general love of combat and duels, but general indifference to murder.
This has left Amelyssan overall, jaded, and morally grey. Since she murders and steals, why should she care if someone else is a pick pocket, a conman, or a pirate, even? No skin off her teeth what other people are doing, provided, of course, that they don't do it to her. In fact, she's become so jaded that she's generally distrusting of those who appear to be "too pure", or "too moral". Not only does she find these types to be incredibly boring, but she'll poke and prod where she can in an attempt to expose hidden sins or concealed corruption. In general, Amelyssan does not believe in the "human spirit", or "goodwill of man", and generally won't trust others as far as she can throw them. Which leaves her reluctant to involve herself in any emotional capacity with anyone, and has led to her sleeping with one eye open.
Then there are the more social aspects of Amelyssan's character. Raised as a noblewoman, Amelyssan learned much of the art of conversation, diplomacy, observation, and manipulation. In short, she is quite skilled at noticing the weaknesses of others, and wording herself in just such a way as to conceal her true intentions. This is rarely required in her line of work, however, and is only used in social excursions with her family.
Last but not least is Amelyssan's pride, which has left her a damn stubborn, and incredibly spiteful woman. Amelyssan's will is not one to be tested. She cannot be dissuaded from her course of action, and any attempts to do so, particularly if it involves lecturing or insults, will make her extremely likely to do it anyway. Or do the opposite of whatever the individual is advising, even if she hadn't initially considered it. This proud nature and stubborn streak, has also led her to be rather unflappable. Aided by her jaded nature, her pride makes it so she simply does not appear to be impressed by anything, if even it is impressive.
Family Members or Important People
Vaughan Darkette ("father", deceased)
Seras Darkette (mother)
Emil Darkette (brother)
Jacques Darkette (brother)
Felicia Darkette (sister)
Abraxas Everfell (biological father)
Sample RoleplayHe was but driftwood on a title wave, subject to the twists and turns of the storm at this back. And when the tide swept him ashore, and the clouds finally parted, he couldn't help but feel a roguish smile curl the corners of his mouth. Was it fate that someone would want to employ him here? Or just circumstance? He could never be sure. This city, his pyre. Within the recesses of the concrete jungle, where the aromatic perfume of human decay was at its most potent, he'd been murdered and tossed among the refuse. And it was there that he first felt the delightful tingling sensation of his flesh knitting back together as he was pulled back from death's embrace.
But as he walked into the outer reaches of the city, he couldn't help but observe the differences, and draw parallels to the changes that he'd undergone since last he visited. Sections hung open like old wounds, and debris was scattered about haphazardly, metallic and stone innards glistening in the moonlight. A scent wafted off of the city, somehow more desperate than ever before. And in spite of all the illusions he wore, he couldn't help but to shiver with anticipation as a shrill scream cut through the droning murmur of a ravaged city.
It seemed that his timing was... convenient.
Among the human filth and sullied skin of current residents, the foreigner stood out like a beacon. The crisp cut of an Armani suit, untarnished by gutter water or the faint dust of the barrage of explosions practically begged for violence to befall him. But it never seemed to. For minutes, the foreigner strode, majestically as he surveyed his surroundings, until, finally, he saw it. Whatever it was did not matter, as the vicissitudes of Johnny's mind made it difficult to attach meaning to anything. It just looked perfect for what he had in mind.
Tossing purpose into the wind, Johnny decided to forego finding the individual that hired him, and instead focused on the task at hand. A mahogany hand reached into the depths of his suit's jacket, 'til his fingers laced around the cold texture of metal. The item whispered gently against his fabric as he withdrew it, as if warning of things to come. The foreigner pressed the metal to his plush lips, and then seized its flesh between his teeth. His arm then blurred through the air with sudden movement, fingers unraveling. The body of metal tore a window asunder, and then bounced but once, before...
A shockwave flowed around him, and the concussion that followed pushed him backward, travelling through the air, shaking nearby structures as it shattered any remaining windows. Cars that were still in tact sounded in protest. The eyes that were peering out of the darkness, falling upon the stranger now shut, and drew in upon themselves. All save for those at his back.
Madmen and murderers turned to him, pools shimmering in the moonlight as their bellies rumbled something ravenous. Those more seasoned and sane among them fell out of formation, fleeing. But the foolhardy remained, spurred on by the luster of the man's clothes, or the promise that, were they quick enough, explosives would fall into their grasp. The leader of the pack twitched a signal, and the beasts broke out into a run, flinging their strained bodies through the air, encompassing the foreigner with zeal. Each of them brandishing a wicked weapon, a piece of rubble repurposed just for those who happened to cross their path.
"Do you have any more of those?" Their leader asked, swinging a small piece or rebar all the while.
"Ah'unno. Why don'tcha c'mere an' find out?"
(This is from another site--I hope that's acceptable!)
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