Quietus
Hunting Again
You wake up in a sewer.
NAME: Ananchel Santori, Chel, Anka
FACTION: One Sith
RANK: One of the pretty things buried in the heap.
SPECIES: Human?
AGE: 33
SEX: F
HEIGHT: 5'7''
WEIGHT: 125lbs
EYES: Grey-violet
HAIR: Platinum blond
SKIN: Pale
FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES (Required: 2 Weaknesses Minimum) :
Addicted to de spice and deat'sticks. You kinnae make me stohp.
APPEARANCE:
BIOGRAPHY:
De name is Anka today because tat's what dey're sayin'. It's time for le fête de le Roi in de down-below and de whole noble heaps are gleamin like a rusted speeder after a bath of acid rain. Jewels, smoke, hot scotch-slurry, the rags are clean cause dey only smell de air but dis one time a year. Everybody in de down-below is cheap an we all criminals. Nothing dat sparkles belongs to anyone here - but we don' like the word t'ief. Down-cyclin', that's what we call it when de good-an-cleans from the high-ups don' care for deir pieces anymore. Maybe dey didn'nae know it at de time, but we jes' helpin' dem move deir lives along.
De Bayou isn'ae a place one can find wit'out knowin' where it be, first. You have te know de righ' people, you have te know de righ' time. You can' come here 'less you pass de rituale, an you can' pass de rituale if you aen like us'in. Not jes any sewer rat can lead ye', it has to be His sewer rat. Sometimes it an'ae even a rat - all 'pends on yaur need, but ye can always know its He. Dey come to you in dem lost places. Dem far-away places. De between-places, off trodden paths, away from street light, where all's dim an dangereuse.
Where de strange animals play.
Where de people like us live.
An if He finds you, you know sure an well.
I remember de nigh' he saved me, foun' me good-an-lost in de down-below swamps. You know de place - de trees, dey veins of 'lectrick, roots of the high-ups, all forgotten and corroded. De people down here, see, dey know how te scavange, how to live. They cut into dem roots an veins and dey stole de blood-life of de high-ups. Dey take what dey have, see, an' dey sew it all together, transplantin' life for life. De mire in de down-below, iz exactly what you tink. Iz de filth from above, de waste of de sky - dis putrid green is our blue after it makes iz way down, down, down tru' de corrupt.
He foun' me as a moth in the way-down an I remember tinkin' what the bother was that doin' down 'ere where it dinnae belong?
But I had been afoot for days. I was lost in the up-streets, den I was lost in de side alleys, den de sewers, den I was in dat place we call de good-an-lost where you kinnae find your own echo. He was dere 'pon de wall, wings beatin' a slow heartline, glowin' like nuffin' I ever seen before. I didn'ae know it, but I'd slipped into His Twilight Place, between places. He saw me half starved, He took pity on me. He sent me dat Guide, what I now know we call De Loau. Dere He was, glowin' like a full moon, wings swirled with his Sign, and he showed me de way in dat under-maze.
He brought me to Maman and de Sauweriennes of de Fargone Isles. Of De Bayou.
So I stayed and lived dere, and learned good of Maman to survive like dey do in de down-below shadows, doin' whats in our blood.
SHIP:
-
KILLS:
-
BOUNTIES COLLECTED:
-
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ROLE-PLAYS:
-
NAME: Ananchel Santori, Chel, Anka
FACTION: One Sith
RANK: One of the pretty things buried in the heap.
SPECIES: Human?
AGE: 33
SEX: F
HEIGHT: 5'7''
WEIGHT: 125lbs
EYES: Grey-violet
HAIR: Platinum blond
SKIN: Pale
FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES (Required: 2 Weaknesses Minimum) :
Addicted to de spice and deat'sticks. You kinnae make me stohp.
APPEARANCE:
BIOGRAPHY:
De name is Anka today because tat's what dey're sayin'. It's time for le fête de le Roi in de down-below and de whole noble heaps are gleamin like a rusted speeder after a bath of acid rain. Jewels, smoke, hot scotch-slurry, the rags are clean cause dey only smell de air but dis one time a year. Everybody in de down-below is cheap an we all criminals. Nothing dat sparkles belongs to anyone here - but we don' like the word t'ief. Down-cyclin', that's what we call it when de good-an-cleans from the high-ups don' care for deir pieces anymore. Maybe dey didn'nae know it at de time, but we jes' helpin' dem move deir lives along.
De Bayou isn'ae a place one can find wit'out knowin' where it be, first. You have te know de righ' people, you have te know de righ' time. You can' come here 'less you pass de rituale, an you can' pass de rituale if you aen like us'in. Not jes any sewer rat can lead ye', it has to be His sewer rat. Sometimes it an'ae even a rat - all 'pends on yaur need, but ye can always know its He. Dey come to you in dem lost places. Dem far-away places. De between-places, off trodden paths, away from street light, where all's dim an dangereuse.
Where de strange animals play.
Where de people like us live.
An if He finds you, you know sure an well.
I remember de nigh' he saved me, foun' me good-an-lost in de down-below swamps. You know de place - de trees, dey veins of 'lectrick, roots of the high-ups, all forgotten and corroded. De people down here, see, dey know how te scavange, how to live. They cut into dem roots an veins and dey stole de blood-life of de high-ups. Dey take what dey have, see, an' dey sew it all together, transplantin' life for life. De mire in de down-below, iz exactly what you tink. Iz de filth from above, de waste of de sky - dis putrid green is our blue after it makes iz way down, down, down tru' de corrupt.
He foun' me as a moth in the way-down an I remember tinkin' what the bother was that doin' down 'ere where it dinnae belong?
But I had been afoot for days. I was lost in the up-streets, den I was lost in de side alleys, den de sewers, den I was in dat place we call de good-an-lost where you kinnae find your own echo. He was dere 'pon de wall, wings beatin' a slow heartline, glowin' like nuffin' I ever seen before. I didn'ae know it, but I'd slipped into His Twilight Place, between places. He saw me half starved, He took pity on me. He sent me dat Guide, what I now know we call De Loau. Dere He was, glowin' like a full moon, wings swirled with his Sign, and he showed me de way in dat under-maze.
He brought me to Maman and de Sauweriennes of de Fargone Isles. Of De Bayou.
So I stayed and lived dere, and learned good of Maman to survive like dey do in de down-below shadows, doin' whats in our blood.
SHIP:
-
KILLS:
-
BOUNTIES COLLECTED:
-
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ROLE-PLAYS:
-
