West of Mercy Interest Check [Western, Supernatural, Horror]

[RainyHigh]

I suddenly got an idea for an oathbound with a... sordid history.

[Sofia Grace]

I suddenly got an idea for an oathbound with a... sordid history.

I am
HERE
FOR
IT

[Yukina]

... Dammit, I'll reserve an FC for now. Varada Sethu, please~ 💜

*squees*

[Swashbuckler]

*slyly peeks around the corner*

I think I went through the character list, but if someone was thinking of characters, is there a list of jobs people have taken that might not be submitted yet?  Or that are wanted for the game?

[Amaris]

*slyly peeks around the corner*

I think I went through the character list, but if someone was thinking of characters, is there a list of jobs people have taken that might not be submitted yet?  Or that are wanted for the game?

Hey Swash! So far, we have a Brothel Owner, Saloon, General Store, Blacksmith, and I know a boarding house was mentioned.

I think we still could use a teacher, banker, livery stable, farmer/rancher, outlaw, undertaker, bounty hunter, bathhouse, lawyers, preacher, tailor, doctor, bakery, grain mill, bookstore, and drugstore.

So many options! Of course, we are open to other ideas that I didn't think of!

[Swashbuckler]

Thank you, Amaris!

May I submit a banker then?

Alistair Winnfield

Alistair Winnfield

Pronouns: He/ Him
Age: appears 45
Job: Banker
Type: Hollowed (Gildrot)
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Face Claim: Andrew Scott

Personality: Urbane, Loquacious, Cruel, Spiteful, Narcissistic, Predatory, Charming

History: Alistair Winnfield was a terrible person.  A swindler, a conman and a cheat, he lived in city after city of the East Coast, burning bridges and leaving grieving widows, bankrupted businesses, starving families, and broken homes behind him everywhere he went.  There was no con too small, no amount of money he would not steal or cheat from anyone.  If there was any truth to “taking candy from a baby” it was Alistair Winnfield who started it.

It was in Boston that it all finally caught up with him.  Having fled New York after a particularly lucrative bit of trickery involving stocks, bonds and some foolish immigrants, he had headed further east, and after laying low for a few months, started anew.  Alas, some rather more powerful organized criminals had been looking for just this, and quickly cornered him.

Tarred and feathered, Alistair well remembers the feeling of the boiled tar burning him to the bone, and then darkness.  The torment his Greed earned him was well deserved and well remembered, which perhaps explains his eagerness to flow through the rift when it opened.  Alistair was not selective in his choice of a host.  He had witnessed other Hallowed taking forms and sought one immediately.  He found weak looking fellow, a coward fleeing bandits and leaving a wagon train to die.  When the man was shot down like a dog, Alistair eagerly flowed into him, and went about remaking himself.

As eager to get his hand on gold as he ever was, Alistair opened the Bank in Revel and has slowly grown its vault and his influence.  He skirts the agreement with the Hallowed by never truly holding the land he moves through the bank, selling as soon as it comes in, and charging exorbitant mortgages, or even better, bartering for favors.  The only thing to own better than gold, is favors.

Additional info:
Pistols:  Alistair is a far shot, but hardly a gunslinger
Rifles:  Here Alistair truly shines, having a sniper’s eye.  He can pick something off at a ridiculous distance, but like pistols, he VERY rarely uses this trait
Poker face:  Alistair is nearly unreadable, and has no tells.  He plays cards well, but tends to refrain
Energy:  Alistair is always seemingly active, and almost seems to not sleep

Etiquette - Alistair seems well versed all in kinds of etiquette and social skills

Powers:
Persuasive:  Alistair makes deals very, very eagerly.  With a handshake, he can usually see how far a person is will to go (to pay) in a negotiation and ruthlessly chases that goal.

Charm: Despite his formally cowardly exterior, Alistair’s words fall like honey.  His words carry and aura of trustworthiness, when everything else around him says not to.

Worth:  Alistair can tell a person’s wealth by touching them.

Gold-knowledge: Alistair knows every coin and bill in his vault by name and immediately tell if one is missing.

Connections: OPEN!

Ons & Offs: here

PLOTS:
I would love to have someone as an employee or partner at the bank who “collects” when payment is due.  Possibly an Oathbound or Hallowed (Wrath?)
The man whose body Alistair took was fleeing from something in the East, which perhaps explains the kinship he felt.  I think it would be fun if this was something that came to Revel and he had to deal with.
Would love to have someone who “got the better” of a deal with Alistair early on, who he craves revenge against at all costs.

[Clio]

She's in the character thread too, but in case people are looking for possible connections or plots before joining, here's my Hollowed:

Ambrosia Tapper

Name/Pronouns: Ambrosia Tapper
Age: Appears late 20s/early 30s
Job: Works at the Nightingale House
Type: Hollowed Pitbelly
Sexuality: Pansexual
Face Claim: Miss Deadly Red

Personality: Addictive | Gluttonous | Haunted | Impulsive | Insecure | Masochistic | Needy | Over-Indulgent | Passionate | Sensual

History:

TW: Religious Guilt, Religious Trauma, Self-Harm
Born on a farm in Maryland in the late 18th century, Annabelle Tapper was a fairly ordinary young woman with a large family. They attended the local Church on Sundays, married when they reached adulthood, and worked hard. In general there was very little excitement for her as she got older, although she had no desire to be married. It wasn't that she wasn't attracted to men or that she didn't want to have a family, but instead a special predilection that she'd discovered in early adulthood.

She liked pain. She loved it. Getting burned as she stoked a fire? Excellent. Slicing open a finger as she made chicken pot pie? Incredible. Scraping her knee from a fall? Bliss. She knew this was wrong. She'd been taught that her body was a temple and she knew that most people avoided pain while she ran toward it. When she was 19, her parents tried to set her up with the local farmer's boy who owned the land next to theirs, and Annabelle made the mistake of asking him if he also enjoyed pain. She'd heard tales of women who enjoyed having their bottoms spanked and their faces slapped. In her innocence, she'd assumed that perhaps he would enjoy doing those things.

She was wrong. Her parents were informed of her "sinful" nature, and scared for their family's reputation, put her in a convent. Unfortunately for them, this was the absolute ideal location for her. With their forms of punishment and self-flagellation, she could hide her obsession with pain beneath a veneer of piety. The nuns thought she was the most holy of them all due to her extreme self-sacrifice. She stayed in uncomfortable positions for long periods of time, flogged her self, wore hair shirts beneath her habit, and abstained from all worldly pleasures.

In actuality, she received her pleasure from the pain itself. This continued for years without the nuns realizing that her sin was actually doing exactly what their vows said she should do. Unfortunately, this all came crashing down when she met Beatrice. The young nun idolized Annabelle's devotion to the Lord and began to mimic her self-punishment. While Annabelle had developed ways to heal and keep herself safe in these moments, Beatrice had not. The young woman died as a result of an infection from self-flagellation injuries.

Annabelle was distraught. She confessed everything to the Mother Superior in hopes of being forgiven, but was instead turned out into the cold. As her family didn't want her back, she begged for a while, but eventually succumbed to the elements when she was only 27. Condemned for her lack of care that led to Beatrice's death, and the constant lying and subterfuge she had lived by, she went to Hell.

Of course, she couldn't be punished in the traditional sense. She thrived under physical torture, and the demons had to be creative in her torment. Denying her the pain she desperately craved, they instead punished her by leaving her alone for years and years. It felt like an eternity before she saw the light from the breach and raced toward it without a second thought. She found a host in a prostitute that used her curves and sensuality to entice men to her door. She was dying of a venereal disease, so Ambrosia (as she called herself now) took over to end her suffering. After all, there was pain and then there was dying of oozing sores. The latter was not so enjoyable.

After having spent years alone, she immediately indulged in every possible form of pleasure. Alcohol, drugs, gambling, sex, and of course pain. In Revel she found, for the first time, a place she could belong. Now a Pitbelly of the Hollowed, she could indulge to her heart's content and cause others to do the same. She quickly discovered that she was a perfect match for people who were sadistic, and offered her services to Delilah as a prostitute at the Nightingale House. Whenever there was a client who got a bit too rough, or indicated their desire to do so, Ambrosia (as she called herself now) was offered.

Grateful to Delilah for giving her sanctuary, she uses her powers to help the brothel's profits. Indulgence and gluttony is her game, and she plays it well.

Additonal info: She feels a great deal of shame for her desires, but that doesn't stop her from giving in to them.

Powers:

• Excess: Her influence allows people to take more of whatever they indulge in than their bodies normally would allow. They can drink more, have more stamina, take more pain without fainting, etc. Her oathbound feel this effect even more. This includes indulging in rich, sweet foods and never feeling the physical effects of them.
• Glutton for Punishment: The pain that others feel, whether wanted or not, feeds her. While she doesn't truly want to cause pain to others (that's not her preference), she can absorb it into herself. While this can include emotional pain, it is physical illness and injury that feeds her most. This means she can heal minor injuries. While she can't heal extreme sickness or maiming, she can ease the pain by taking it upon herself. Unfortunately this has the opposite affect on problems like consumption or malnourishment. Unless she's careful, her power can make those illnesses worse. Those who are oathbound to her may find a more full relief from their pain, but eventually it will take a toll on their bodies.
• Blissful Intensity: Those who give in to their desires for indulgence may feel the effects more fully. Food tastes better, drugs get them more high, alcohol leaves them more relaxed. Sex is more pleasurable.

Connections: TBD

Ons & Offs: While my O/O is linked here, her ons are focused on masochism, pain, and punishment. Spanking, Knifeplay, Choking, Bondage, Over-Stimulation, Rough Sex, etc.
Offs: Scat, Amputation, Body Shaming, Verbal Degradation (specifically about body/appearance/worth), Virginity, Overly Innocent Characters

Plot Ideas:

• A regular client who finds themselves addicted to the services she offers. Possibly turning into an Oathbound.
• Someone suffering who comes to her for relief, fostering a relationship of sorts...either romantic or platonic.
• Someone wanting revenge for a family member/friend/partner losing themselves to addiction because of her.

[Deamonbane]

Cain, Abel's brother will be arriving in town sooooon

Cain Mercer

Pronouns: He/Him/His
Age: 34
Job: Deputy US Marshal
Type: Human
Sexuality: Bisexual
Face Claim: Tom Hardy

Personality: Mostly quiet, steady, deliberate, pensive, stubborn, with a nasty temper and a violent, sadistic streak when someone finally does get him going.

History:TW: Stillbirth, violence, murder

"Kid, revenge is a dish best served cold."

Words that never stopped ringing in my ear from the first time I heard them. Couldn't have been more than five or six years old when my pa caught the cougar what took his eye and made me help him gut it and tan the hide.

Ma was still taking care of little Cas at the time. Little ruffian with a head full of jet black hair and a mischievous grin that seemed to make everyone smile. Never understood it. Might have even hated him for it a bit back in the day. I was a big kid, bigger than all the other half-pints in the nearabouts. Big hands, big feet, clumsy, like my body couldn't make up its mind about what was gonna grow next.

Cas never had a problem like that. Everyone adored him, and he knew it. I could see what he was like without that sugary coating. But he was my brother. My blood. I was supposed to love him.

Even the days when I knew he done fucked up bad, I still stood between him and whatever wronged party wanted to take their pound of flesh. A few of them even tried to get around me. They regretted that, and you just know that Cas had a way of turning that into one of his games too.

Never saw him without Faye stuck to his side. She always had me dumbstruck. Wasn't even sure why, except that I'd turn red in the face whenever she talked at me. Shuffled my feet and mumbled something that made her laugh and that just made me redder. I hated it, but I liked knowing that I existed in her world, that someone saw me as something more than the hulking golem that kept Cas from seeing the consequences of his actions.

Wasn't 'til I was right about 20 years old when I realized that she'd never been laughing at me. Everything I'd been too afraid to dream of coming true did and, fucked if it didn't live up to those dreams. Even when she told me she was pregnant before we'd even said any vows, all I felt was happiness.

Spent our time building that house we lived on after my folks died some years before of a fever. Couldn't bring myself to start a family in that house for some reason. Put every damn board up with my own hands. Set the cradle up right next to the bed and those nights she couldn't sleep, I told her everything was going to be alright and I dreamed of seeing our little one in there. Told myself I was never going to sleep when the little thing was born, I wouldn't be able to stop looking at it.

She damn near broke my hand holding it during the labor. The midwife didn't think it was right for a fella to be there, but I wasn't going to miss the moment to be with her. She was worried still. I told her everything was going to be alright.

Turns out, my dumbass should have listened to what her body was telling her. I felt something break when I saw the midwife look up at us. And then again, to kick us while we were down, the second didn't make it either.

It was my fault. I should have listened. Spent less time building that fucking house. Could have just moved into where I grew up. Found good work so she didn't want for anything during. Couldn't see the pain Faye was in for all the muckery going through my head. I finally dropped the work at the ranch I'd taken for extra money and joined with the wranglers, taking cattle from one part of the country to the other.

Good money, but we were in a wild land. I told Cas to keep an eye on Faye. Didn't want her to be left alone. I was full of all sorts of excellent ideas like that back in the day. Never occurred to me that Cas had always hated me for loving Faye. Never occurred to me that he would cross that line.

Never occurred to me until one day, years later I come home to an empty house. Clothes gone. A letter.

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

I remember shaking after reading it. I remember finding myself in the shed a few hours later, the crib I'd build turned to splinters in my hands.

Cold. I didn't say a word. I asked Cas where Faye could have been and he said he had no idea. He'd been about his own stuff, and he'd checked in on her a week ago and all seemed fine. I finally talked him into joining me to search for her.

It was around that cold campfire that I handed him the letter she penned. He denied it at first. Then he laughed about it. Tried all his wiles. All his tricks, the ones I'd seen him ply successfully over the years.

Finally he said it.

"Those babies would have lived if they'd been mine."

I didn't realize what I was doing until I realized my brother was screaming as I pulled his eyes out. His death lasted most of the night, until, as the stars flickered out one by one, I left him for the coyotes and jumped on my horse.

Fratricide. That was me. I was going to hang by the neck until dead. And I wasn't half certain that I deserved it. Killed my own damn blood. What kinda worm does that? What kinda pathetic insect lets his wife grieve on her lonesome like that?

Dying at the hands of a lawman never did appeal to me, though. Wanted to die for something. Atone. The war out east was over, but there were plenty of places where a man like me could find a good enough reason to die for in the aftermath, and yet nobody ever rose to the challenge.

Took up law work with a Marshall by the name of Caleb Hudson. He came from a family of lawmen. He lived by a strict code. Never quite figured why he took a shine to me, but we worked well together. Eventually told him about what happened. About the blood on my hands. We talked a lot over the years, travelling the country, doing good for folks as best we could.

Eventually he convinced me to head on home. It was time to face the music, he told me, and he could vouch for my having helped him save many lives in the time after, see if that would help my case.

Time to go home to Abbadon County. Time to face the music.



Additonal info: I'm good with my hands, be it wood working, whittling, shooting or beating folk to a pulp.

Good with horses, dogs, cats, cows. Wouldn't mind having a bear for a company sometime in my life.

Powers:
Doubt it counts, but I'm stronger than most folk.

Connections:
Abel/Cas Mercer - Not so dearly but definitely departed brother.
Faye Mercer - Estranged wife.


Ons & Offs: Player's O/Os

What I wanna try:
Would be nice to find some friendly faces back home. Not sure I'll find any, though.
Might be cause to celebrate my last few days on this plane.
Could be some law issues in town I could see to before shuffling off.

[Sofia Grace]

And Faye is over here just doin' her damn best. D: Open for connections!

Faye Mercer

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 32

Job: Midwife

Type: Human

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Face Claim: Katheryn Winnick

Personality:

Compassionate | Empathetic | Nurturing | Calm | Resourceful

Impulsive | Stubborn to a fault | Rarely admits when she's wrong

History: [TW: Stillbirth]

I first met the Mercer brothers when I was 'bout five years old. See, Cas and I was in class together at school. Even back then he was a pain in the ass as far as the schoolteachers were concerned but me and him got along just fine. Hell, I think mighta been my first real friend.

His brother Cain was a couple years older than us but hand to the Lord I had eyes for that boy before I even knew what it meant. That didn't go over too well with Castor. At the time I was too young and naïve to understand why, but boy did the subject of my fondness for his brother get Casall fired up.

By the time I was eighteen and Cain was twenty, he caught on. Okay, okay, fine - I mighta pounced after church one Sunday.  He didn't seem to mind.

When folks talk about whirlwind romances, they're talkin' about the kind Cain an I had. We went from bein' nothin' to everythin' quicker than a hiccup. We'd been together maybe a year when I found out I was with child. By nineteen, I was married and happier'n I ever been. Some women, they ain't sure whether or not they wanna be mommas but I knew. I knew for a long time. Lord have mercy, I swear to you I loved Cain more than I ever had once I realized I was carryin' his baby. I couldn't wait to make him a daddy.

Once I realized it was time already, I knew somethin' was wrong. I could feel it in my bones. It was too soon - months left.

Our babies were born sleepin'. Twins, a boy and a girl.

You don't really know heartbreak until you lose a baby - well, for me, babies. You carry 'em, you wait for months to hold 'em, you feel 'em kickin' and wiggiln' around inside your belly and you dream about what they're gonna look like. Thinkin', will they have their daddy's nose? My eyes? And you dream about that moment when you finally get to hold 'em. I mean really, hold 'em in your arms and just let the miracle of life take your breath away. You think about that moment and you can almost feel their daddy kissin' you on the forehead and hear him whisperin' in your ear what a good job you done, bringin' 'em into the world.

That wasn't how it happened for Cain and me. Once that first baby was out - the boy - and I didn't hear nothin', no cryin' or screamin' from that baby, there wasn't no 'what ifs' goin' through my head. I knew. That midwife looked me in the eye and she ain't said nothin', yet she told me everythin' I needed to know. I didn't know there was gonna be two babies. Hadn't even considered it. Sure, my belly had been huge but Cain was a damn giant. I didn't think nothin' of it. So when she said there was another one comin', and told me to push I didn't even have time to question it before that little girl joined us.

That was when my stomach sank. Right then. 'Cause see, when I realized I was gonna give birth that day I had already come to terms with the fact that somethin' wasn't right. I told Cain, I said 'somethin's wrong'. I said it over, and over and over again and he just kept tellin' me 'baby, it's gonna be okay.' But I knew nothin' was ever gonna be okay Not ever again.

By then I'd already prepared myself for that baby to be born sleepin'. But Lord, I wasn't prepared to lose two at once. I don't know what I done to deserve it. I'd been waitin' my whole life to be a momma. It's hard to keep your faith when somethin' like that happens. How could any God let not one, but two babies be born sleepin'?

I was never the same after that. Cain wasn't, either. And we weren't the same together.

I don't think I left the house for a few months after that. Not for nothin'. Cain and I barely spoke. Hell, we could barely even look at each other. No one tells you about that part; when you lose a baby, everything just fades into nothin'. Nothin' matters. I ain't never felt that alone in my whole damn life. I don't think Cain knew what to do with himself. But me? Hand to God, I cried so much I'd pray I'd just run outta tears to cry.

So that's how it went for about a year. Cain started workin' more and more. Bein' away longer and longer 'til I was all alone in that house more than half of each month. One day Castor came by to check on me just like he always did, stayin' true to his word to Cain - and I don't think he knew it but it was a year to the day that I lost those babies. Cain had been away for a week and who knows if he even remembered the date. Now Castor always had his flaws, I ain't gonna deny that. He was no saint by any stretch of the word. But that man held me while I sobbed and not a damn word came out of his mouth. He just let me cry. And the more I cried, the tighter he held me.

It was the first time in a year I felt like I wasn't alone.

I ain't proud of what I did. I know I'll spend the rest of my life repentin'. And if I'm honest, I don't think I could tell you how it happened even if I tried. Even if ya put a damn gun to my head. All I know is for the first time in a long time, I felt alive. I felt like a woman again - and not the grievin' woman who had failed her babies and failed her husband. A woman who deserved to be loved, and touched, and to feel good.

After that first time I told myself I wouldn't let it happen again. But a week turned into a fortnight, and Castor was in my bed again. I was smilin' again. Laughin', even. And I realized I didn't wanna give it up - whatever it was we were doin'. It took months for him to convince me he wanted more than just to warm my bed. He said he wanted more. He wanted me. Us. He said everything he knew I needed to hear and I was a damned fool to believe a word of it.

...'Cause no matter what that man said or what he promised me, he was still Castor Mercer.

I was leavin' the general store one mornin' and saw him with my own two eyes, kissin' Tilly Westfield on the other side of the street. In broad daylight, like I didn't even exist. And just like that I knew I'd been alone all along.

I wanted to just leave. I almost did. But no matter what happened between Cain and I, I loved 'im and he deserved the truth. So I went back home, packed my things and wrote a letter to my husband. I told him everythin'. All of it.

And then I left.

I ain't gonna bore you wit' the details of where I went. Some things are best kept a secret and it don't matter none, anyway. I'm back now. Been back for a couple years and Cain ain't nowhere to be found. When I came back the letter was gone and so was any trace Cain had ever even lived there. For a second there I wondered if I'd imagined it all. But then a few days after comin' home I saw Castor in town and damnit I wanted to grab the nearest rifle and blast the man's head off. He didn't even look at me.

Coward.

Anyway, I got a quiet life now that I'm back home. I still live in the same house and I'm still alone. I work a lot; I'm the best damn midwife this side of Abbadon County. Some days are harder than others. But all in all? I'm doin' just fine.

Additional info: She doesn't talk much (if at all) about where she's been the last few years. She's returned to town knowing her way around a revolver and a rifle and has picked up plenty of survival skills along the way. And braiding. She's gotten really into braiding her hair. It makes her stand out like a sore thumb but she loves it just the same. Faye has channeled her own traumas into a fierce drive to help other women. She loves what she does but it's more emotionally draining than she lets on. She is still grieving the loss of her children and facing the shame of her infidelity. She's doing the best she can. 

Connections:

Cain Mercer - Estranged husband

Castor (Abel) Mercer - Sack of shit Brother in law

Ons & Offs: Sofia's O/Os

Faye's Wish List

• It's more than likely that the rumor mill went crazy once Faye left town. She has no idea what's happened between Cain and his brother (formerly Castor, now Abel) but I would like to see some sort of gossip come up/have people ask some awkward questions to put her on the spot. You know, because the woman hasn't been through enough already.
• I think it could be interesting to see Faye fall victim to making a deal with one of the Hallowed and become Oathbound. There's plenty of stuff in her past for us to choose from, so I'm open to discussion.
• It's more than likely that due to her infidelity and her disappearance that she'll be treated as a bit of a pariah. Beyond that, she's a woman who is estranged from her husband (who is nowhere to be found) and living alone. Faye will need friends. She will need support. That's it - that's the whole Tweet.

[Amaris]

Thank you, Amaris!

May I submit a banker then?

Alistair Winnfield

Alistair Winnfield

Pronouns: He/ Him
Age: appears 45
Job: Banker
Type: Hollowed (Gildrot)
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Face Claim: Andrew Scott

Personality: Urbane, Loquacious, Cruel, Spiteful, Narcissistic, Predatory, Charming

History: Alistair Winnfield was a terrible person.  A swindler, a conman and a cheat, he lived in city after city of the East Coast, burning bridges and leaving grieving widows, bankrupted businesses, starving families, and broken homes behind him everywhere he went.  There was no con too small, no amount of money he would not steal or cheat from anyone.  If there was any truth to “taking candy from a baby” it was Alistair Winnfield who started it.

It was in Boston that it all finally caught up with him.  Having fled New York after a particularly lucrative bit of trickery involving stocks, bonds and some foolish immigrants, he had headed further east, and after laying low for a few months, started anew.  Alas, some rather more powerful organized criminals had been looking for just this, and quickly cornered him.

Tarred and feathered, Alistair well remembers the feeling of the boiled tar burning him to the bone, and then darkness.  The torment his Greed earned him was well deserved and well remembered, which perhaps explains his eagerness to flow through the rift when it opened.  Alistair was not selective in his choice of a host.  He had witnessed other Hallowed taking forms and sought one immediately.  He found weak looking fellow, a coward fleeing bandits and leaving a wagon train to die.  When the man was shot down like a dog, Alistair eagerly flowed into him, and went about remaking himself.

As eager to get his hand on gold as he ever was, Alistair opened the Bank in Revel and has slowly grown its vault and his influence.  He skirts the agreement with the Hallowed by never truly holding the land he moves through the bank, selling as soon as it comes in, and charging exorbitant mortgages, or even better, bartering for favors.  The only thing to own better than gold, is favors.

Additional info:
Pistols:  Alistair is a far shot, but hardly a gunslinger
Rifles:  Here Alistair truly shines, having a sniper’s eye.  He can pick something off at a ridiculous distance, but like pistols, he VERY rarely uses this trait
Poker face:  Alistair is nearly unreadable, and has no tells.  He plays cards well, but tends to refrain
Energy:  Alistair is always seemingly active, and almost seems to not sleep

Etiquette - Alistair seems well versed all in kinds of etiquette and social skills

Powers:
Persuasive:  Alistair makes deals very, very eagerly.  With a handshake, he can usually see how far a person is will to go (to pay) in a negotiation and ruthlessly chases that goal.

Charm: Despite his formally cowardly exterior, Alistair’s words fall like honey.  His words carry and aura of trustworthiness, when everything else around him says not to.

Worth:  Alistair can tell a person’s wealth by touching them.

Gold-knowledge: Alistair knows every coin and bill in his vault by name and immediately tell if one is missing.

Connections: OPEN!

Ons & Offs: here

PLOTS:
I would love to have someone as an employee or partner at the bank who “collects” when payment is due.  Possibly an Oathbound or Hallowed (Wrath?)
The man whose body Alistair took was fleeing from something in the East, which perhaps explains the kinship he felt.  I think it would be fun if this was something that came to Revel and he had to deal with.
Would love to have someone who “got the better” of a deal with Alistair early on, who he craves revenge against at all costs.

Hey can you PM this to us so it doesn't get lost in the chatter! We will be able to look soon.

[Hellion]

Thank you, Amaris!

May I submit a banker then?

Alistair Winnfield

Alistair Winnfield

Pronouns: He/ Him
Age: appears 45
Job: Banker
Type: Hollowed (Gildrot)
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Face Claim: Andrew Scott

Personality: Urbane, Loquacious, Cruel, Spiteful, Narcissistic, Predatory, Charming

History: Alistair Winnfield was a terrible person.  A swindler, a conman and a cheat, he lived in city after city of the East Coast, burning bridges and leaving grieving widows, bankrupted businesses, starving families, and broken homes behind him everywhere he went.  There was no con too small, no amount of money he would not steal or cheat from anyone.  If there was any truth to “taking candy from a baby” it was Alistair Winnfield who started it.

It was in Boston that it all finally caught up with him.  Having fled New York after a particularly lucrative bit of trickery involving stocks, bonds and some foolish immigrants, he had headed further east, and after laying low for a few months, started anew.  Alas, some rather more powerful organized criminals had been looking for just this, and quickly cornered him.

Tarred and feathered, Alistair well remembers the feeling of the boiled tar burning him to the bone, and then darkness.  The torment his Greed earned him was well deserved and well remembered, which perhaps explains his eagerness to flow through the rift when it opened.  Alistair was not selective in his choice of a host.  He had witnessed other Hallowed taking forms and sought one immediately.  He found weak looking fellow, a coward fleeing bandits and leaving a wagon train to die.  When the man was shot down like a dog, Alistair eagerly flowed into him, and went about remaking himself.

As eager to get his hand on gold as he ever was, Alistair opened the Bank in Revel and has slowly grown its vault and his influence.  He skirts the agreement with the Hallowed by never truly holding the land he moves through the bank, selling as soon as it comes in, and charging exorbitant mortgages, or even better, bartering for favors.  The only thing to own better than gold, is favors.

Additional info:
Pistols:  Alistair is a far shot, but hardly a gunslinger
Rifles:  Here Alistair truly shines, having a sniper’s eye.  He can pick something off at a ridiculous distance, but like pistols, he VERY rarely uses this trait
Poker face:  Alistair is nearly unreadable, and has no tells.  He plays cards well, but tends to refrain
Energy:  Alistair is always seemingly active, and almost seems to not sleep

Etiquette - Alistair seems well versed all in kinds of etiquette and social skills

Powers:
Persuasive:  Alistair makes deals very, very eagerly.  With a handshake, he can usually see how far a person is will to go (to pay) in a negotiation and ruthlessly chases that goal.

Charm: Despite his formally cowardly exterior, Alistair’s words fall like honey.  His words carry and aura of trustworthiness, when everything else around him says not to.

Worth:  Alistair can tell a person’s wealth by touching them.

Gold-knowledge: Alistair knows every coin and bill in his vault by name and immediately tell if one is missing.

Connections: OPEN!

Ons & Offs: here

PLOTS:
I would love to have someone as an employee or partner at the bank who “collects” when payment is due.  Possibly an Oathbound or Hallowed (Wrath?)
The man whose body Alistair took was fleeing from something in the East, which perhaps explains the kinship he felt.  I think it would be fun if this was something that came to Revel and he had to deal with.
Would love to have someone who “got the better” of a deal with Alistair early on, who he craves revenge against at all costs.

Really great character! Seems like he'll fit right in with the shadiest of the shady peeps

[Amaris]

The owner of Revelry Saloon is now open as well.

[Swashbuckler]

Hey can you PM this to us so it doesn't get lost in the chatter! We will be able to look soon.

Done and done!

Really great character! Seems like he'll fit right in with the shadiest of the shady peeps

Thank you! 

[RainyHigh]

Meera has been approved! Huzzah!
My PMs are open for connections~

Meera Devi

Meera Devi

Pronouns: She/Her
Age: 33
Height: 5'4"
Job: Sheep Herder
Type: Human (Oathbound)
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Face Claim: Varada Sethu

Personality: Resilient | Fiercely Protective | Cautious | Vindictive | Secretive | Unforgiving | Guilty Conscience

TW: Mentions of Abuse, Death, Murder, and Revenge
History: Meera was once married to a man named Vikram, whose temper was as volatile as a summer storm. His cruelty began with sharp words, then fists, and soon full‑blown rages that left her bruised for days. She endured for the sake of their only child, Rohan, hoping to shield the boy from his father’s wrath.

That hope was shattered one bitter winter night when, in a drunken rage, Vikram struck their son. The “accident” left the boy lifeless before help could come. Grief hardened into rage. Rage sharpened into resolve.

Whispers in town spoke of the Hollowed, beings who could grant terrible power for a price. Meera sought them out, desperate to strike back. Her search led her to a Vehementh, wrath‑bound, towering, and seething with fury. They offered her the strength and speed to kill the man who had destroyed her life. The cost: she would have to spill blood willingly, sealing the pact in murder.

The next night, Vikram’s body was found in a ditch, his throat cut as he lay sleeping while out with the family’s sheep. No charges were brought. There were no witnesses, no proof. But Meera knows the truth: her bargain was sealed, and her soul now belongs to Wrath.

Additional info:
Skills: Skilled at handling livestock, tracking strays, and navigating rough, rural terrain. Adept with a shepherd’s crook and a rifle.
Physical Traits: Calloused hands, wiry strength, and an unassuming frame that hides her true power.
Reputation: Among neighbors, she’s known as quiet but reliable. Among those who suspect her past, she’s whispered about as “the widow with a dangerous streak.”

Powers: (Oathbound to Vehementh – Wrath)
Burst of Strength – Can briefly lift or strike with power far beyond normal human limits.
Fury Surge – In moments of danger, her speed and reflexes sharpen, making her harder to take down.
Intimidating Presence – Can project a momentary aura of fear that causes hesitation in aggressors.
^{Her powers are a weaker reflection of her patron’s abilities. These powers are strongest in moments of intense anger or when directly defending herself or others.}

Connections:
◇ Name: Text
◇ Name: Text
◇ Name: Text
◇ Name: Text

Ons & Offs:◆ Found here: O/O Link◆

Potential Plots
⬖ Her Vehementh patron demands another murder as payment, but this time the target isn’t someone Meera hates.
⬖ Someone from her husband’s family comes to town seeking answers... and maybe revenge.
⬖ She struggles to control her Wrath‑driven abilities in a tense standoff, risking revealing her secret to the townsfolk.

[Hellion]

Meera has been approved! Huzzah!
My PMs are open for connections~

Meera Devi

Meera Devi

Pronouns: She/Her
Age: 33
Height: 5'4"
Job: Sheep Herder
Type: Human (Oathbound)
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Face Claim: Varada Sethu

Personality: Resilient | Fiercely Protective | Cautious | Vindictive | Secretive | Unforgiving | Guilty Conscience

TW: Mentions of Abuse, Death, Murder, and Revenge
History: Meera was once married to a man named Vikram, whose temper was as volatile as a summer storm. His cruelty began with sharp words, then fists, and soon full‑blown rages that left her bruised for days. She endured for the sake of their only child, Rohan, hoping to shield the boy from his father’s wrath.

That hope was shattered one bitter winter night when, in a drunken rage, Vikram struck their son. The “accident” left the boy lifeless before help could come. Grief hardened into rage. Rage sharpened into resolve.

Whispers in town spoke of the Hollowed, beings who could grant terrible power for a price. Meera sought them out, desperate to strike back. Her search led her to a Vehementh, wrath‑bound, towering, and seething with fury. They offered her the strength and speed to kill the man who had destroyed her life. The cost: she would have to spill blood willingly, sealing the pact in murder.

The next night, Vikram’s body was found in a ditch, his throat cut as he lay sleeping while out with the family’s sheep. No charges were brought. There were no witnesses, no proof. But Meera knows the truth: her bargain was sealed, and her soul now belongs to Wrath.

Additional info:
Skills: Skilled at handling livestock, tracking strays, and navigating rough, rural terrain. Adept with a shepherd’s crook and a rifle.
Physical Traits: Calloused hands, wiry strength, and an unassuming frame that hides her true power.
Reputation: Among neighbors, she’s known as quiet but reliable. Among those who suspect her past, she’s whispered about as “the widow with a dangerous streak.”

Powers: (Oathbound to Vehementh – Wrath)
Burst of Strength – Can briefly lift or strike with power far beyond normal human limits.
Fury Surge – In moments of danger, her speed and reflexes sharpen, making her harder to take down.
Intimidating Presence – Can project a momentary aura of fear that causes hesitation in aggressors.
^{Her powers are a weaker reflection of her patron’s abilities. These powers are strongest in moments of intense anger or when directly defending herself or others.}

Connections:
◇ Name: Text
◇ Name: Text
◇ Name: Text
◇ Name: Text

Ons & Offs:◆ Found here: O/O Link◆

Potential Plots
⬖ Her Vehementh patron demands another murder as payment, but this time the target isn’t someone Meera hates.
⬖ Someone from her husband’s family comes to town seeking answers... and maybe revenge.
⬖ She struggles to control her Wrath‑driven abilities in a tense standoff, risking revealing her secret to the townsfolk.

Aw, I love her.

Scary...but also love her nurturing/protective nature. While her and Cora would most likely get a long just fine, there would still be that cautious side that wouldn't let allow her guard down much around Meera.

Then again, being a human with no supernatural gift in a town teeming with walking nightmares, it's hard not to be on guard all the time

[RainyHigh]

Aw, I love her.

Scary...but also love her nurturing/protective nature. While her and Cora would most likely get a long just fine, there would still be that cautious side that wouldn't let allow her guard down much around Meera.

Then again, being a human with no supernatural gift in a town teeming with walking nightmares, it's hard not to be on guard all the time

Thank you Hellion for the kind words~
And it's understandable that Cora is on guard. 😈
I'm sure Meera would have to visit the blacksmith for some tool repair now and then. :)

[impishcharm]

I've been unable to come up with a character concept so I am releasing my FCs.  I hope you all have a blast!

[Hellion]

Thank you Hellion for the kind words~
And it's understandable that Cora is on guard. 😈
I'm sure Meera would have to visit the blacksmith for some tool repair now and then. :)

I hope so! :)

[Black Howling]

I would like to adopt the position as the owner of Revelry. Settling back after moving, so  I should have a Sheet soon.

[Hellion]

I would like to adopt the position as the owner of Revelry. Settling back after moving, so  I should have a Sheet soon.

Awesome! Looking forward to reading & meeting your new character :)

[Wulfspire]

I would like to adopt the position as the owner of Revelry. Settling back after moving, so  I should have a Sheet soon.

Looking forward to bringing you in Howling!