Juan Sánchez Villa-Lobos RamírezCalling:
Tuatha de DannanGod:
Manannan Mac LirNationality:
Treasure Hunter (amongst other things)Age:
28Date of birth:
March 1st, 1988Motivation:
Oppose the Eternal Reich organisationDeific goal:
Hasn't thought that far aheadHeight:
Two bullet wound scars on his chestAppearance:
See picFace claim:
Ramirez considers himself a Caballero of the old school, trying his best to be polite and charming (particularly towards the ladies), and one who enjoys the finer things in life (when available). Other's might less charitably describe him as cocky, lecherous and sharp tongued, but as a gentleman he could not possibly comment on the doubtless jealousy inspired rantings of less cultured individuals. He is loyal to his friends, generous when he can be, and tries his best to avoid trouble .. not that it generally gives him much choice in the matter.Family:
Mother - Maria (59), Older brother - Gabriel (37, runs the family business), Older sister - Jessica (31, works in Marketing for Google), Step Father - Raphael Ortega (60)Friends and allies:
Assorted contacts scattered over South East Asia, in the grey markets. Most of his close friends and allies (his crew) were lost when he was almost killed, and he hasn't been able to find out the fates of the rest.Rivals and enemies:
Skorzeny (first name unknown) - Neo Nazi, possible 'werewolf', and cause of the bullet scars in Ramirez chest.Background:
Ramírez was born into a wealthy cattle ranching family in Brazil. Growing up he was told his father had been a sailor, a captain whose ship was lost years before in the Devil's Triangle, though little was said and the topic quickly changed. As he grew older he caught snippits of conversations indicating his father had simply been a sailor that had seduced his mother and left, though such was never said to his face.
It seemed that the sea might claim him too, as he seemed always to feel it's pull, and at 17 he ran away from home, joining a merchant ship crew, determined to find his father, or what had happened to him.
Ten years later, he had sailed around a fair portion of the world, though most of the time was spent between the Bay of Bengal and the Sea of Japan. He had ended up involved in the grey markets, smuggling goods, information and occasionally people around South East Asia, with connections in what seemed like every port. He ran a few jobs for a Swiss businessman in Singapore, a collector of antiquities with an eye for strange, old bits and pieces. Visitation:
Ramírez never knew quite what it was that he delivered that last time. Some odd statuette, whatever it was it seemed to produce unearthly excitement from his buyer. Unfortunately it also produced automatic pistols from the businessman's bodyguards, and his crew being systematically cut down. Ramírez himself went overboard from his vessel, two bullets in his chest, the last word he heard werewolf
Death did not claim him, as he sank into the dark water. Instead something seemed to explode within his head, a voice, or the memory of a voice, telling him that he was a son of the oceans, and the water would always be his. His head cleared and he found he could breathe as easily under the water as above it, and swim as fast as he could run. He made his way back to shore on Sentosa Island, a tall, bearded man stepping out the trees and introducing himself as his father.
The two spoke long into the night, and as the dawn sun rose, Ramírez found himself in a much stranger world than he had the day before. It wasn't easy to find out you were the son of an Irish sea-God, after all. Still, with his newfound knowledge and powers, he was in a much better position to take on these 'werewolves'. They started this ... he'd finish it.
His father told him that he had other duties to attend to first though, and the following dawn saw him in San Francisco.Likes:
A challenge (particularly when it comes to women), the finer things when it comes to food, drink, clothing etc, soaking in the bathDislikes:
Ill mannered behaviour, bigots, stupidity.Hobbies:
Music, reading, dancing, flirting, martial artsFears and phobias:
Slight claustrophobia, worse underground, stemming from an incident as a child when he got lost in a cave complex.
His Hero's Geas has already been Fated, to protect the Chinatown in San Francisco.
How did the son of an Irish Sea God end up with such a strange Geas? Ah, that is a long story, my friend. Come, pull up a chair and let me tell you.
"I say ... have you seen my dragon?"
As conversation starters went, that was a new line on Ramirez, even in the now much stranger world he found himself in. He paused with his coffee cup raised to his mouth, and turned his attention to the source of the somewhat outlandish remark.
The man who stood before him was old, perhaps in his 70s or even 80s, with skin that showed a lot of exposure to the elements. His beard and what remained of his hair was grey and scraggly, and neither appeared to have more than a casual relationship with a comb in some time. The bright red smoking jacket he wore had also seen better days.
"Yes, I ... I seem to have misplaced her." the old man continued, smiling warmly at him. "She shouldn't go wandering off on her own you know, she's quite small." He held up his hand, thumb and forefinger perhaps an inch apart. "Except when she isn't of course." He blinked a few times, looking around the coffee house and shouted out. "LUNG QIUYUE! If you don't get back here this instant I shall be most perturbed." His outburst drew puzzled looks from most of those sitting around, and an irritated one from the owner.
Perhaps if I ignore him he'll go away and find someone else. Ramirez thought, a hope that was quickly dashed as the old man sat down opposite and began to help himself to Ramirez's breakfast.
"You can help me find her." he muttered around a mouthful of warm, buttery toast. "You're more real. Not like those others. Yes, you're real and all tangled up in string and her string and your string and this toast."
Ramirez's brow furrowed as crumbs of toast sprayed over his shirt, and suppressed a sigh. He fished a few small denomination notes out of his pocket and set them onto the saucer his coffee had rested on. Noting the dirty look the owner was giving, he added a couple more to be on the safe side and then rose. "Come along, Grandfather." he said, resignedly. "Let's go see if we can't find your dragon."
The old man led Ramirez through the streets, backstreets and alleys, without apparent direction. Ramirez was fairly certain they'd crossed their own path at least three times, though the buildings didn't look quite similar enough that he could be sure. The old man seemed to fall into the role of tour guide, pointing out places and naming names that probably would have meant something to someone with a familiarity of the city .. or might just be pulled straight from the depths of his imagination. After about ten minutes and several false starts. Ramirez actually got a question of his own through in return.
"So, who are you anyway? You have a name?"
The old man paused, a puzzled expression on his face, before breaking into a smile. "Oh, of course, you're a foreigner aren't you? Well, naturally you wouldn't know who I am. I'm the Emperor. Of the United States." he added helpfully, seeing the look that passed across Ramirez own face.
"Forgive me for asking, but I was under the impression that the United States had a President, not an Emperor." replied Ramirez, cocking his head slightly to the side.
"Oh, we do, we do." the old man replied. "I leave him to take care of all the day to day stuff while I look after what is really important. An Emperor has a duty to his subjects after all."
"Naturally." replied Ramirez, shaking his head slightly as the old man's gaze wandered off.
"Ah, here we are." he said, reaching down and lifting a rusty metal hatch. Without waiting, he descended the circular iron stairwell below, an echoing "Come along, come along."
Ramirez paused at the entrance to the cellar, or whatever it might be, for a few long moments, before giving his head a shake and following the old man down. He'd probably do himself a mischief down there, and he'd need someone to get him back out.
By the time Ramirez's eyes had adjust to the dim lighting, the old man was on the ground, in a room that looked like it had been abandoned since the 50's .. possibly the 1850s. The Emperor led the way across the room, pausing to exchange his red jacket for an equally threadbare blue one, topping the entire ensemble off with what looked like a slightly fuzzy top hat with a massive feather sticking out of it.
He settled onto a slightly unstable looking barbers chair against one wall, and beckoned Ramirez forwards. "You remind me of Pedro." he announced. "It's the accent I think. Or possibly the toast. Yes, definitely the toast. Most kind of you to entertain me thusly, so few remember their duty. You're different though. You know duty. A duty. The duty." His eyes unfocused for a moment before snapping back to Ramirez as he approached. "Yes, you know the duty, don't you?"
"I know what my duty is." Ramirez replied, thinking to a dark night lit by muzzle flashes and screams.
"Your duty? Excellent." the old man announced, drawing Ramirez attention back to him as he fumbled beneath his jacket, drawing out something on a leather thong that glinted as it spun. "It is right that those who offer to us unbroken fidelity should be protected by our aid. And since such and such a faithful one of ours, coming here in our palace with his arms, has seen fit to swear trust and fidelity to us in our hand, therefore we decree and command by the present precept that for the future such and such above mentioned be counted with the number of antrustions." He stepped forwards and draped the somewhat grimy leather thong over Ramirez's head, what looked like an old Chinese coin made from red jade hanging against his chest. "The duty is now yours."
"Hold on." said Ramirez, lifting the coin and looking at the strange characters embossed on it. "What duty are you talking about?"
"The duty of every Emperor is to protect his subjects." the old man replied, smiling. "Look at the toast. No, strings, yes, strings. The fief has accepted you." His head turned towards the still open hatch, and he fell backwards like a puppet with the strings cut.
"Wait, what, no?" Ramirez snapped, dropping to try and catch the old man before he hit the ground. His fingers moved to the old man's throat, looking for a pulse. "Shit!" he exclaimed, setting the old man down, and starting what he remembered of CPR. After a couple of minutes he stopped, closing the old man's eyes.
"I pray that you will have the blessing of being consoled. May you know in your soul that there is no need to be afraid. May you be given every blessing and shelter that you need. May there be a beautiful welcome for you in the home that you are going to. You are not going somewhere strange. You are going back to the home that you never left. May you be peaceful and happy and in the presence of those who really care for you. May your going be sheltered and your welcome assured. May your soul smile in the embrace of your anam cara." he murmured, straightening up and lifting the necklace off to look at it.
He looked down at the body beside him and shook his head. "This has been a very strange day." he murmured.
His head spun round towards the source of the shout. Halfway down the stairs was one of the most beautiful Chinese women he had ever set eyes on. Her eyes moved from the body to the necklace he held and her face contorted in rage. She hurtled off the stairwell and came straight at Ramirez, fist drawn back. "Wait, it's not like that." he said, holding up his hands to ward her off. Those were the only words he managed, the next two or three hours, or possibly just minutes, spent dodging, ducking and weaving, trying to avoid a variety of punches and kicks that seemed intent on removing assorted parts of his body.
The woman spun away at the last, breathing hard, and glaring daggers at him. She had positioned herself between him and exit, intent on keeping him from leaving, despite his attempts to calm her down.
Ramirez was breathing just as heavily, and he shook his head at the strange woman. "Look, if you'd stop trying to kill me for just one minute, I can explain."
She glared at him again, drawing in a deep breath, and opened her mouth. Instead of the expected scream, what came out of her mouth was water, hitting Ramirez like a high pressure hose and knocking him back against the far wall. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me." he gasped as the room rapidly filled with water.
It appeared the woman expected this to give her an advantage, as she came towards him through the water like an angry torpedo. The expression on her face when Ramirez continued to dodge, apparently as unencumbered by the change in terrain as she was made him grin, which seemed to infuriate her all the more.
Just as suddenly as she started, she stopped, the water draining away as she fixed her gaze on apparently empty space near the now overturned barbers chair. Ramirez was familiar with most of the languages of South East Asia, but whatever dialect of Chinese she was speaking, it wasn't one he knew. Elements of it seemed almost familiar, as if he had known them once, but lost them through disuse. Her tone, angry glares and gestures in his direction indicated she wasn't exactly happy with the situation, as far as a one sided conversation with empty air could be interpreted.
Ramirez remained where he was, ready to start dodging again if this was some bizarre trick. After another minute or two she turned towards him, straightening an incredulous expression.
"It seems that .. I may .. owe you an apology." she said haltingly. "I have been informed that you .." and that single word contained such depth of disdain that Ramirez almost stepped back from her "Have accepted the duty to protect this fang alongside me, as one far more worthy than you has now passed on."
Ramirez opened his mouth to dispute this, to explain that it was all some kind of mistake, but it seemed the words would not come. Instead he felt himself nodding, and an echo of his fathers voice coming from his mouth. "Aye. As it was, so it is, and shall be."
Right then he couldn't tell who was the more confused, but he felt the oath settle into his bones, and something inside of him sang.