Bios of the Weird and Damned

[Coydog]

Just some short blurps about smelly characters. Everyone is welcome to post!

[Coydog]

Name: Coydog
Alias/es Coydog Mitchell, Coydog Fitzroy, Corey Dobbs, June Mills.
DOB: 2254
Age 31
Place of origin: The Mojave Wasteland, Earth
Species: Human with some cybernetic enhancements
Height: 5'9/5'10
Eyes: Green
Hair: Blonde
Occupation: Courier. Occasionally teaches children how to play the piano.
Residence: N/A. She doesn't stay in one place for too long.
Distinguishing Marks: Though the are often hidden by extremely good foundation, the strategic placement of hair and/or the presence of a hat,
the right side of Coydog's head bears the reminders of two 9mm bullets worth of damage.

Abilities: Adept at a variety of firearms with enhanced aim due to a cybernetic right eye. Aces at talking herself into places and out of trouble. Very good survival instincts. Fast. Pretty mean left hook. Oddly enough, some wild animals won't mess with her and will occasionally aid her in battle. Yes, she thinks this is weird. Has a mean right hook and a really mean left hook. Can confuse robots. Decent at the piano. Is fluent, or at least conversational, in a few languages.

Weaknesses: Incredibly claustrophobic. Due to being shot in the head, Coydog suffers a variety of side effects that affect her health both mentally and physically; occasionally the latter ruins her impulse control and causes her to exhibit poor judgement and recklessness. Contends with crippling headaches. Suffers most (but not all) of the same vulnerabilities as non-cybernetic human beings. Cats are known to inexplicably attack her (40%).

Other: While Coydog does prefer living away from 'civilized society', she very much enjoys the company of other people (in spurts, of course.) Despite this, she's managed find a husband in Bart Fitzroy, though she doesn't live with him full time. She has a teenage son (Lord help her.) She misses her chosen family back home. Coydog has a massive hate boner for slavers. Her heart and her spine are cybernetic, thanks to the brains in jars at the Big Empty, though her brain is just a condescending fuckwit.

[Bart Fitzroy]

Name: Bartholomew %&^*ing Fitzroy
Alias/es: Fart Buttzroy; Butt Fartzroy; Mr. Coydog; Bartholomew Conrad Fitzroy
DOB: Nineteen Eightum-somfmph... (42 Years of Age)
Place of Origin: Last Seen in Detroit, MI
Species: Awakened Human
Height: 5'9/5'10
Eyes: Light Blue
Hair: (Dishwater) Brown, Gray streaks
Occupation: Cab driver, junkyard owner, mechanic
Residence: A two-story beach house in Seaside
Distinguishing Marks: Thick, square-rimmed glasses; gravelly voice; stupid laugh; smells of ozone, cannabis, gunpowder, motor oil and Gojo.

Abilities: Bart can move through space-time in all kinds of directions, but he prefers walking and driving. Excellent at spotting sources of stress, wear and weakness in non-living systems and items, for the purposes both of maintenance and chicanery. Though he speaks little of it, Bart often senses energies and states "Beyond the Veil". As a cab driver, his job seems to have become delivering people to crossroads in their destinies; it doesn't always pay great, but it's rewarding work.

Weaknesses: While Bart's disposition tends toward the sanguine, he's introverted to a fault, often hiding behind his wife's gift of gab in social situations. Also, although RhyDin tends to be a very magic-friendly environment, he still incurs Paradox whenever he utilizes his abilities, manifesting in situations that range from the embarrassing to the potentially deadly.

Other: Bart occasionally shows the hallmarks of a former vampire blood addict, especially in his aura. Time likes to "hiccup" around him, speeding up and slowing down in his immediate area beyond his will. Sometimes, he'll pause, then catch up, as if buffering.

[Betty Liski]

Name: Elizabeth "Betty" Liski
Alias/es: Hot Betty, Frecklet*ts, and a range of other catcalls.
DOB: July 13, 1973 (26 years old)
Place of Origin: Last seen in the Bowery, NYC circa 1994
Species: Human
Height: 5'5"
Eyes: Dark Brown
Hair: Brown with strawberry blonde highlights
Occupation: Owner and Operator of Hot Betty's Wake & Bakery
Residence: The Golden Palms apartment complex in Seaside

Distinguishing Marks: Between the head-to-toe freckles, the killer figure, the brassy Brooklyn accent and meticulously-crafted '90s-reflecting-on-the-'60s fashion, not to mention the pink VW bus redolent with cannabis and confectionery, it's hard not to pick Betty out of a crowd. Close-up inspection shows split earlobes, thanks to an incident involving hoop earrings and a surprise visit from a baby cousin, as well as multiple, yet small, burn scars that cut through the freckles on her hands and forearms. She usually smells like cookies, weed, and clove at the end of most days, but opts for resinous, hand-made perfumes otherwise.

Abilities: Betty's great at having food, having weed, and having a place to crash for a night. While she's able to free-hand recipes at the drop of a hat, her deliberate cooking methods afford her the ability to "dose" her confections to medical professional satisfaction. While used mostly for knock-off designer goods and baking supplies, Betty's ability to score a bargain is pretty keen.

Weaknesses: Betty has developed a strong distrust of Information Age technology, eschewing smartphones in favor of a land line and an answering machine (although she has a flat-screen TV and a BluRay player; go figure). She has an irrational fear of animated objects, stemming from a poltergeist incident after she'd "went abroad."

Other: Her VW Bus mobile bakery, having had at least two consummate mage-mechanics under the hood, carries with it a series of wards and protections, acting as a small-scale safe haven in supernaturally suspicious areas. That's not to say that other, more embarrassing surprises await those who wish to, perhaps, break in or hotwire the Wake & Bakery, yet she remains blissfully unaware of what either Bart Fitzroy or Rhys Germain may have added (save for the 'Hot Box' feature on the A/C controls).

Thanks to the Halloween Havok Lottery, Betty has come into the possession of a Key to a Witch House, opening any door to the cottage otherwise surrounded by haunted woods.

[Fennec]

Name: Fennec John Mason
Alias/es Fenn
DOB: October 8th, 2271
Age: 14
Place of origin: The Mojave Wasteland, Earth
Species: Human
Height: 5'8" (For now)
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black
Occupation: Teenager
Residence: He mainly lives with his dad and step-mom.

Abilities: Fennec is proving to be quite the little adept concerning primitive robotics. He is an avid reader and a quick learner and devours any book involving technology.

Weaknesses: Aside from the fact that he's still at an age where he can be grounded, Fennec is absolutely terrified of ghosts. While excellent in regards to his scientific pursuits, Fennec isn't fantastic when dealing with his fellow teenagers. He is also very sensitive to the sound of gunfire and may cower whenever he hears it.

Other: Son of River Wolf Mason and Coydog. His best friend is an old eyebot named ED-E, though he seems to look up to Dillon Jones, may the Gods help his poor little soul.

[May Mills]

Name: May Clementine Mills (Formerly Watts)
DOB: November 15th, 2248
Age: 37
Place of origin: New Reno, Nevada, New California
Species: Human
Height: 5'9
Eyes: Green
Hair: Red
Occupation: Doctor (Followers of the Apocalypse)
Residence: A quaint little apartment in the Old Temple district.

Abilities: As per her training, Dr. Mills is proficient in administrating medical care, light psychiatry, surgery, and training those interested in such pursuits.

Weaknesses: May is absolutely crap in a fight and she knows it.

Other: Older sister of Coydog, identical twin sister of April Mills. Unlike her sisters, she doesn't seem to be too upset about being displaced in Rhydin. Her last name, upon marriage, became Watts until her husband passed away, prompting her to revert to her maiden name. Appears quite a bit more put together than April, or at least more conscious of her physical appearance.

[April Mills]

Name: April Persimmon Mills
DOB: November 15, 2248
Age: 37
Place of Origin: New Reno, Nevada, New California
Species: Human
Height: 5'9
Eyes: Green
Hair: Red
Occupation: Veteran Ranger of the New California Republic
Residence: A squirrelly lean-to in the desert near Cadentia
Distinguishing Marks: Has a patch of skin around her left eye that becomes red and aggravated in humid weather.

Abilities: April has both trained in and trained others in the arts of marksmanship, unarmed combat, psych ops and covert ops. She has a keen mind for infrastructure, which has led her to sue for changes to the NCR's current expansionist policies and seek political office.

Weaknesses: April is about as warm and cuddly as a well-oiled, poisoned bear trap. She is hot-headed at best, unstable at worst, and often stands directly in the way of her own ambitions.

Other: Older sister of Coydog, identical twin sister of May Mills. She has political ambitions within the NCR, or had, before getting displaced. She isn't taking well to being away from home one bit.

[Coydog]

Name: Pork!
DOB: Exact date unknown
Age: 1 year
Place of Origin: Rhydin
Species: Dog (Pit bull/German shepherd cross)
Height: 26 inches at the shoulder
Eyes: Black
Fur: Brindle and white
Occupation: Goodest Boy
Residence: He usually goes where Coydog goes, but sometimes badly guards her shack

Abilities: He's a dog. He likes to run and bark and will sometimes bite, though he doesn't like to. He can sit and occasionally stay.
Weaknesses: He's particularly hard-headed. He also loves chewing on shoes, much to Coydog's chagrin. Sometimes he's protective, but mostly he's a coward. Has stress induced narcolepsy.

Other: Has been informally dog-dopted by Roxie, Coydog's cyber-dog. Has his own bed but would rather sleep in Coydog's, and will if given the chance. Was part of a discarded litter of puppies found by his human-shaped friend in the Rhydin Railyard, along with Dillon's dog, Queen Bee. The other two puppies were given to good homes too.

[Dillon T Jones]

Imagine something for me. Imagine you are playing a game, or perhaps if you want that you are the character itself. This game is about hunting, hell, you do it with a couple buddies. And as it turns out...

You are really good at hunting.

And even better, this game is very hard. But you are your friends never lose. You always win. You hunt effectively and together, you are a force to be reckoned with. Even the greatest of monsters fall to your blades, or spears, or guns.

Now think of the smallest monster in this game. A, dinosaur that is in the stages of becoming a bird in evolution. Large, larger than you... but this was the first thing you hunted. The first thing you cut your teeth on. And after a while, it became a Joke. By now, you have killed it perhaps hundreds of times. Now, you are your friends see how quickly you can kill it on your way to kill something much, much stronger. This time is measured in seconds rather than minutes. In a flurry of blows, you have killed it time and time again.

You've laughed at it. So many times that even the joke has gone stale. So many times you don't even notice it now as you pass by. But for an easy laugh, you'll still kill it every once in a while.

Then one day you are out hunting and that bird grabs a magic crystal that some assholes from another reality had left there...

Then the bird emits the screech of a modem and grows. Grows larger than a building. But doesn't grow at all really. Then it all shifts, as you enter the Bird Dimension.

You run in pure terror, caught up in the moment, not knowing what is happening. But the bird follows with it's magic crystal, you can't get away. After all, there was no where to run to begin with. All was the bird. You begin to understand, your other life, the game, everything has been a dream... Everything has always and forever been the bird.

You look down and you are running on bird. The bird blocks your path, but what is worse is that if you look beyond the bird you see the sky has turned into bird. Your body can't handle the strain and you black out, mercifully.

You wake up, in a safe place. You are relieved. But the bird has been there waiting for you and knocks you out again. The bird was somehow snapping it's claws like jokingly tough gangsters in old plays. Why? Why was it doing that?

You don't get to ask the bird questions.

Which is good. Because the bird puts on a full musical show for you. It's titled 'Bird Up: The Musical.'. It's incredible. You are amazed and delighted as countless bird join in a pyramid chorus in perfect synchronization. Your breath is taken away by the display.

The bird then goes to the houses of your friends and family and wrecks up the place.

Soon, there is just too many birds, cawing in your face. The green screen breaks. The editing software that was being used to make all these birds overloads and the program crashes. You look at the size of your recent save file, hoping that you didn't lose too many birds, but it's okay, it's a birdbyte. That's not too bad.

You try to load it up again, but there's just too many birds. Everything crashes again. You cry, thinking it is just too many birds. Wait, why are you doing this? Because the bird is all you know now. It's annoying but you can't stop putting more birds into the video. The bird compels you. Your family grows worried when you don't speak to them for weeks. They come by to check on you, they find your corpse in your chair in front of the computer, dead of thirst. The bird became more important than life.

The only clue they find is written on your wall. 'Bird Up'. They assume it was you who wrote it, because your door was locked from the inside and all windows were sealed shut. But you know the truth. The bird wrote it. As one last fuck you.

But no, it was just one loss! You pick yourselves up. You laugh it off... in an attempt to feel better. You go and say you will take on the hardest monster around, to show how tough you are.

Then the bird falls from orbit at the speeds of an angry meteor. The initial blast was the size of a small nation. You aren't even dust anymore, you're blasted to less than that.

And all the while the bird, larger than a star, watches from space with the same fucking dumb expression.







Dillon is that bird. Just to everything non-mortal that fucks with mortality.


Bird Up.

[Mona Oliveira]

Full Name: Maria Ramona Theresa Silva da Oliveira (Oliveyra)

Date of Birth: 1492

Location of Birth: Evora, Republica Portuguesa

Nationality: Portuguese

Height (Barefoot): 5'0"

Weight: 100 lbs

Eye Color: Light brown

Hair Color: Black/Dark brown

Current Residence: A lovely old farmhouse called Driftwood on an isolated stretch of beach in Seaside.

Personality: Mona is relatively quiet, more at ease in the role of the observer than the social butterfly; prefers solitude over larger gatherings. She is given to childlike displays of awe when presented with things outside of her wheelhouse. Often kind but by no means warm.

Distinguishing Mark/s: A large, crooked scar that covers the space from her left to wrist halfway to her elbow; as a result and even as Kindred, Mona can't grip things as well with her left hand as she can her right. A chevron shaped scar on her left thigh.

Weapon of choice: Anything within swiping distance, though toy metal jacks are a favorite.

Useless Fact/s: Enjoys watching old Hammer and Jess Franco films. Has a horse named Monkey and a macaw named Batata. Enjoys the roleplaying game Teddy Bear: The Cuddling.

Known Family:
Yael da Oliveyra: Mother (Deceased)
Nechemiah de Oliveyra: Grandfather (Deceased)
Half-siblings (Father's side): Eugenia 'Genia', Jacinta, Francisca, Unnamed Infant Male. (Deceased)
Half-siblings (Mother's side): Natanael 'Nathan' Kjrstad
Henry Kay: Nephew
Joao Luiz Silva: Father (Deceased)
Tina Shusberg: Childe
Bakar 'Burke' Barinaga: Broodmate (Deceased)
Mahdokht: Sire (Deceased)

[Dillon Walker]

Name: Dillon Elizabeth Walker
Alias/es: Lizard,
Age: 21
Place of Origin: Long Beach California (World of Darkness)
Species: Awakened Human
Height: 5'4
Eyes: Light Blue
Hair: Blonde
Occupation: Student
Residence: An old RV behind Fitzroy's Junkyard.
Distinguishing Marks: A scowl when her face is at rest, or when she's deep in though. The tattoo of a cartoon penguin on her right upper arm.

Abilities: The combination of taking after her mage of a dad and being newly Awakened, Dillon displays a great amount of wild talent. She has already hopped universes (not without repercussions) and has a spirit companion who pops in from time to time - a monstrous ermine the size of a pony that she calls Pan-Pan. Due to the influence of Dillon Jones and her mother's Animal Friend ability, she will likely be able to use the demons kept by her namesake in his various Demon Jails. Fun!

She's also sneaky and isn't adverse to nicking the stuff in people's pockets just to see if she can.

Weaknesses: She currently doesn't know how to harness her talent, or where to direct it, her latest endeavor having incurred Paradox. She can be jumpy and quick to anger, though she is easily calmed.

(Lizard is from an alternate timeline where Bart and Coydog have a kid together, a timeline where another Bart (her dad) passed away when she was a baby. Lizard's mom (Who goes by June, not Coydog) is still kicking back on her Bart's Earth. If you think that's confusing, just imagine how they feel.)

[Tigan Milburn]

Name: Tigan Temperance Milburn
Alias/es: That Spooky Ice Elf, The Long Lady, The Ghost in the Manor, Tall Ring-Lookin' Bitch, Space Alien Dressed Like Lily Munster
DOB: An undisclosed date in 1894 (Embraced in 1921)
Place of Origin: Oxford, UK
Species: Yes. (WoD Vampire, 10th Generation Kiasyd)
Height: 7'
Eyes: Black and smooth, all the way around.
Hair: Black, wavy, and in great abundance, held up by pins, clips and/or combs.
Occupation: "Antiquarian"
Residence: 8 Navidson Circle, Old Temple
Distinguishing Marks: Pointed ears, violet-grey skin, seven feet tall. Some inscrutable symbol/feature across her back has been mentioned, yet accounts contradict. Speaks in whispers. Smells like plant nectar, dirt, pennies and ghost stories.

Abilities: The House at Navidson Circle contains a wealth of texts both (monstrously) illuminating and (rightly) forbidden on its shelves. Its windows and back door remain unlocked, which would rouse suspicion in any well-heeled adventurer, yet the number of enterprising amateur warlocks, infernalists and necromancers who enter uninvited (and subsequently disappear from public memory) are not insubstantial.

Tigan offers little in overt displays of prowess, yet she notices an awful lot, much to the consternation of those seeking to observe/spy on her. She moves through darkness without pause, and on occasion enters one shadow, just to emerge from another. Some have reported her walking over autumn leaves and leaving them undisturbed, and others a penchant for lurking in the boughs of old growth trees in the Solarium. A few have seen her holding court with birds, bats and moles as if addressing rowdy country cousins.

A local former Peeping Tom told of seeing Tigan's bare back, blacking out, and awakening to find himself clinging to a weather vane and screaming about Tooth-worms in his ears. He had since taken up excessive drinking as a hobby instead.

Weaknesses: Tigan's reflection and shadow have minds of their own (at the worst times), independent both of her and each other. While able to enter public buildings freely (while open), she insists on asking permission to private rooms and residences. She keeps no short distance between herself and holy sites, and has never been seen in the daylight hours. While she finds fire exhilarating, she keeps a notable distance from it.

Other: Rumors abound about The House at Navidson Circle and the woman seen lurking within--

• The house is a trap set by a spider-demon, and/or a Door to Hell Itself. The womanly shape seen within is merely a lure, and her movements outside an illusion.

• One little girl has whispered of the Long Lady pilfering hummingbird eggs from the Solarium after an attempt to run away from home. She now rarely leaves her tree house in her back yard.

• Ghosts and spirits maintain the House for an opportunity to practice affecting the physical plane, or as penance for entering the House uninvited.

• Tigan trades exotic herbs, library access and unusual eggs in exchange for very specific types of blood.