Sangjaheil - Brazil

[silverdust]

Name: Silverdust
E-mail: [e-mail]
URL: darksidesilver.tripod.com/id10.html

Character
Name: Sangjaheil
ID: --
Gender: Male
Sub-Species: Euclides
Rank: Puppeteer
Breed: Feline (serval)
Type: Blood
Mutations: Mane, wing-marks
Accessories: None
Notes: Born in France, under the guillotine. His mother was a marionette of great beauty and in turn saw that beauty in him and treated him as her favorite. Under her guidance, he learned to weave the mindgames so easy to the Marionettes but often abandoned in his Blood type. He is adept at using his mind and well as his claws and teeth as torture devices, quite skilled in his type's art.

While hunting, they were caught by an ancient vampire named Eris, a veritable archmage in the dark arts. He had developed an odd obsession with the young Euclides upon sight, entranced by his grace and savagery. He disposed of Sangjaheil's mother easily and trapped him with a silver chain, enslaving him for years as a lovely toy for his every whim. During this time, Sangjaheil gained an excellent control of his bloodlust, preparing to release it in all its savage fury at the exact opportunity to release himself.

Sangjaheil gained his chance at freedom when Eris, in his arrogance, challenged him to a game to find his heart. He sealed his magic for one day, to give his 'pet' a sporting chance. By the end of the day, Sangjaheil's combined bloodlust and careful study of the vampire's mind and weaknesses put Eris through enough pain and torture that he revealed the location of his heart. Sangjaheil destroyed the heart, and took hold of the Marquis's estate, living in the ornate theatre he had built for him.

Stats:
Health: 20/20
Strength: 7
Speed: 7
Dexterity: 5
Intelligence: 8
Charisma: 2
Stamina: 4
Luck: 2

Assigned Country: Brazil
Items:
Shifter Orb - 50t
Rapier - 15t
Reviving Med. - 15t
Teleportation Cube - 20t
Medallion - 15t
Tirithium: 33
Hunt-Critters Found: 0


Party Members: 1

Name: Akoru
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Health: 20/20
Strength: 8
Speed: 4
Dexterity: 3
Intelligence: 6
Charisma: 4
Stamina: 5
Luck: 5
Speech: Regular Green

[iprince]

Both the train ride and the trip across the ocean were relatively peaceful and mundane for you. A lot tamer than some of the stuff the other chosen ones were going through at the exact same moment you touched off from the ship, to the exotic lands of Brazil. Already the alien sounds and smells attack your senses, how sweet...how strange...they are. You itch to explore the surrounding forests, the feline inside of you calling to make claim of this land.

But you don't. Not just yet. You've spent many a week on board a stuffy, rocky, ship, and you're much more interested in a good night's sleep then an early adventure through the wilderness. Right?

Northward there is a small village, just in site of where your ship docked. Many of the sailors are headed down there for a quick dip in the tiny inn, possibly a meal and a drink as well. Maybe someone there would have a room for you to rest in, and good decent food? Or some information that might prove helpful? You were sent to this country for a reason after all.

The jungle calls as well, though. Day is almost over, and the sun is low on the horizon. That doesn't make the wilderness any less alluring to a serval-Euclides, though. In fact, it might make it more so.

It's up to you. Which way do you choose to go.

[silverdust]

The jungle called to him. It was in his veins, his being, that dark, savage part of him that lingered still like a lovely stain behind his careful control. But still, even though the primal scents rose about him like shadows, tantalizing as the finest Indian spices, he knew he had a job to do. The Murdon were their creators, intelligent perhaps to a fault. He doubted that they might hide in the forests. But then again, they were drawn to the ancient splendor that humans once possessed, perhaps linger still in the shells of the marvelous temples and ruins of the sprawling cities of stone and gold...

Sangjaheil took out the shifter orb, letting its change course through him. It was painful, slight stings about his body as his bone changed and morphed, feeling like molten fire in his veins. It must come easier for marionettes, used to the changes. He had managed to steal a few clothes on the ship, from the captain's quarters. No matter all his coolness, he did have a streak of vanity. Simple, just a flowing shirt like that of a brazilian peasant and a pair of loose pants. He examined his new form in the water. The shirt was a tad too big, billowing about him slightly, giving him an ethereal air. He was far too pale, albino in this human form, untouched from the sun that scalded everyone else. His form was just as slender as his old one, his beauty giving an effeminate touch to his human face.

He curled his lip slightly. It was going to be difficult, blending in would've certainly been an advantage, the reason he had chosen the shifter orb in the first place. But perhaps this exotic new form would be able to draw out information in other ways. He had often watched his mother work her seductive games, now it would be put to use. He gathered his few parcels, putting them into the make-shift pack he had crafted upon the ship, out of tarp and remnants of an old, shattered mast, and kept hold upon the rapier, also wrapped inconspicuously in tarp. Perhaps they would take it as some form of walking stick. He headed toward the village, moving silently along the path with that inhuman grace, remnant of his bestial form. If things didn't work out in the village, he could give in to the dark, whispering call of the jungle that snaked about his soul, pulling ever so gently as a slender chain. It surrounded him, the jungle, and he looked to it as a shield, one final tie to the savage soul in this delicate new form.

[iprince]

...so you head toward the village, leaving the musical trill of the jungle and all its hidden splendors behind.

There is a well beaten path up to the tiny circle of wooden houses which you follow along with ease. The walk does not take you much more than five minutes, but already the sun has sun down low, and the sky is painted twilight blue and black. Once you reach the village and take a quick look around the little cul-de-sac of stores, you note that most of them are closed now, with the setting of the sun. There are only three left.

The first, to your left, is a very small building, with a porch and a little rocking chair swaying and creaking in the breeze. It's probably a home, rather than a store, but it's still a choice. If there's someone home, they might be willing to late you stay for the night, and catch a quick meal.

The second choice is right in front of you, the largest building yet. It seems to be a tavern or inn, of some sort, but probably not all that high class. Voices can be heard, laughing, yelling, talking, through the flimsy walls.

The last choice is nothing much either, and to your right. Just a little grocery open a few hours into the night. An older man is trotting back and forth across the window, pacing as if waiting for someone to come. A sharp noise is heard, and the man leaves his window. Probably to help one of the half-drunken sailors with their purchases.

Which will you choose?

[silverdust]

Sangjaheil looked over his three choices carefully. This Brazil, for all its exotic mystery, was in no way comparable with the French elegance and luxury he was accustomed to. He fingered his satchel lightly, his nose still picking up the delicate smells normally unnoticed. Beer, sweat, spices, the air was moist with the sent of human all about him. Not a shred that he could sense of another like him, nor a Murdon, not that he could've traced that scent as he found it, but at least he might notice.

The home seemed pleasant enough, quiet, but he had no intention of taking assurance in a stranger's home. It wasn't that he couldn't overpower them, but he liked to know what he was dealing with before he faced someone alone. The tavern wasn't appealing in the least. Of course, drunken tongues spoke secrets easily, but drunken tongues also lied, and he didn't want to go on some wild goose chase, not in a land where he was the vulnerable one. He looked at the store, furrowing his eyes a little, before walking toward it.

Everyone must stop by this grocery store at least a little, and the owner might be able to tell him something, some gossip on the streets or legends that circled through the sailor's taverns. Besides, he might have something interesting to sell, something that might be of use on this journey. He oculd question to, about the owner of the house before he made a bold move toward it. He certainly was going to try everything not to sleep in a tavern tonight.

He moved into the light of the doorway, pushing it open and leaning on the doorframe as he took a cautious look inside. His voice was tinged with that liquid french, showing him a foreigner, perhaps to gain a little pity.

"Hello?"

[iprince]

Two heads turned at the unusual voice, all ears in the little shop duly noting the obvious accent carried upon the tongue of the young man that slipped into the shop. The man that had been pacing in front of the window quickly turned his gaze from the sailor, to you. He narrowed his eyes, and leaned toward his customer, whisper a few very, very quiet words in his ear. Almost hesitantly, he slipped out behind the counter and approached you, his hands clasped nervously in front of himself.

"Well,"his dark lips curved in an obviously forced smile,"Well, what can I help you with? We're closing soon, so be quick. There's not much time."

The sailor behind him, leaning up against the counter and playing with a few copper-ish coins, cocked an eyebrow.

Behind the counter was a wall of different do-dads, none of which looked particularly helpful. There were a few jars of strangely colored goop, a couple feather trinkets, of colors you had never dreamed a bird could be. There were snake skins, wooden totems, animal teeth, lucky paws, a few small furs, and some interesting looking necklaces, with brightly colored beads. There were little chains, with golden medallions imprinted with different tribal designs. Some little bags of herbs, dangling off of a couple hooks, and sometime that looked like a half-squished spider in a bird beak, hung against a leather string.

Nothing of any use at all. Just various souvenirs, it seemed.

The sailor seemed to grow impatient, and cleared his throat. The shopkeeper jumped and squeaked another 'be quick about it', to you before returning to the counter to help the other man.

Well., you heard the shopkeeper. Be quick about it!

[silverdust]

Humans and their petty little games. There was obviously something here that he was not supposed to listen in on, and that only made him more curious. He drew back from the counter, as if examining the pendants for sale, meanwhile focusing his ears on the pair as his gaze remained carefully unfocused on the wall. Perhaps there would be some rumor in the, or at least something of interest in their voices. He hated to be wrong about things like this, he would try to get whatever he could out of this strange little shop, though it was apparently nothing useful. Damn, he hated when he was wrong...

He drew closer to the pair, as if he had made a selection, his hand tightening slitghly over the wrapped weapon. He waved his hand toward one of the medallions on the wall, a seemingly ancient design but no doubt something that might feed the imaginations of some tourist, which was a part he might be required to play. His ears still listened for any soft tones, whispered in voices that might normally escape a human's hearing.

[iprince]

"They say....very angry....don't stay long."

"Why not.....no matter of mine."

"Matter.....life.......very angry."

".....don't care......dock for a night, at least."

"Keep track.......get hurt."

"Don't believe..."

"Foolish...Muttering......black bell."

"I don't understand."[/color]

"Neither do we,"the shopkeeper ended harshly, casting a glance at you,"I've got nothing more to say."

Their whispered voices had been jumbled and confusing, maybe just as useful as the rest of this shop. There would be more rumors and whisperings in a village than just problems concerning mythical creatures and their gods, after all.

At your approach, the two men separated. The shopkeeper cleared his throat and plastered on another paper smile,"Made your decision have you?" he jerked his head at the array of trinkets behind him,"What'll it be?" His eyes followed the waved hand, and he turned to see the selection,"Ah, a good choice,"he went to the wall and plucked the little golden thing off it's hook, handing it over the counter for you to see,"It's very old, but it good shape. Crafted by a native many years ago. It depicts some sort of...four armed being." The shopkeeper was wringing his hand again,"It's said to bring good fortune to anyone who sins, or some such thing. A very unusual piece. I'll sell it for no less than 15."

The sailor had not disappeared throughout the shopkeepers ramblings. He was still there, his dark eyes shifting back and forth between the two, the coin he was playing with rolling between his brown fingers. He locked eyes with the shopkeeper and nodded his head, sliding the piece of copper toward him, and turning on heel to exit the little building.

[silverdust]

The information was broken, probably useless, but he filed it away anyways. After all, there had been some interesting words, maybe pieces to a puzzle he had to unravel. He hated puzzles.

The man's fake smiles amused him somewhat, as he looked down to the trinket on the table. He disguised his surprise very well, something chosen at random to be so valuable to his quest? A Murdon was perhaps (more than perhaps, he dared to hope) the creature on this golden medallion. And good luck to sinners? Well, even better, though he hardly believed in luck. He didn't argue with the man's price, he oculd always steal money later on. What with these humans half-drunk in their bars, should be no more than child's play. He drew out the money and slid it over the table, shooting a small glance at the copper coin lying beside his new bought medallion. It didn't seem like anything special, but he couldn't help but wonder about the dark-eyed sailor and this starnge shopkeeper...

He gave a quick glance out the window, over at his other two options. He made sure his voice still held that wondering tourist tone, perhaps set this nervous little man at ease. The blood pumping thorugh his veins was tempting him, after all, his control may be wondrous, but it had been a very long ride. "Sir, can you tell me who lives in that house with the rocking chair?"

[iprince]

The shopkeeper quickly scooped up the 15 coins, plus the sailors little copper one, and tapped a few keys until the cash register pinged open. Each coin was placed down with meticulous care, as if he were attempting to busy himself. "Very valuable piece, that is, you won't find too many of them for sale anywhere else. Quite the find, I dare say..."he rambled on until your question arose.

"The house with the..."he leaned back, puttering around the corner until he could get a good glance out the shop window, is bright eyes squinting through the night's inky shadows,"...rockingchair." He huffed and turned away, bustling back to his cash register as if he were terribly busy at the moment,"Nothing but an old, bitter wench. That's not a place for foreigners, the woman in there isn't too fond of...people in general. If you're looking for a place to stay for the night, the tavern always has a couple of beds available in the back room. Just steer clear of that house."

He turned away again, with on that wring of his hands, and pulled a cloth out from under the counter,"It's closing time, boy, so unless you have anything else to say, or purchase, you best be going."

[silverdust]

He nodded a brief thank you to the shopkeeper, curling his new medallion tightly about his wrist instead of his neck. He avioded wearing anything about his neck if he could, the memory of Eris's chains still strong in his mind. He turned to leave as quickly as he had come, slipping gently into the night. He stood out on the street, debating which way to go. The old woman's house now seemed to much of a trouble. He was not human, but it was unlikely that she would know that, and he didn't want to deal with her aforementioned surliness at this hour, with his bloodlust peaking in the smell of the jungle that surrounded him. He would be sure to talk to her, if she was old, then she might remember something of use. And now, with this medallion, his questions would not seem strange, just some silly tourist asking questions about local culture. Most Euclide would not lower themselves to feigning human ignorance, but he was content in his knowledge that he could probably kill every single one of them without much effort upon his part.

He would ask her in the morning, perhaps when she might be in a more pleasant mood. Though it was utterly distasteful to him, he walked toward the tavern. The racuous voices and the stink of beer grew near overwhelming, but he could stand it. He had a job to do, and if he were ever to see his elegant palace again, he would have to go through with it. He pushed open the door and walked into the smoke bathed chaos. How he must stick out among these rough sailors and farmhands, muscled with work while he retained the slender form, even more feminine among their brawn. If not for his male clothes he might be taken as a female with his long hair, perhaps even moreso with the drunken eyes about him. He made his way to the bar, sitting down and hoping someone would come quickly so he could reserve a room. His hand kept a firm hold on the rapier, the medallion clinking against it gently.

[iprince]

A few heads turned at the unusual sight of such a stranger, among the burly, dark-skinned patrons of the little tavern. Some gazes narrowed with long harbored prejudices, others brightened and twinkled at the sight of such a pretty face. None of it was any good. One particularly dark gaze peered up from the corner, wear the sailor nursed his beer alone. The rich, heavy scent of yeast and bear clouded the little room, making virgin eyes water at the thickness of it all.

The bartender motioned that he'd be a moment before he could serve you, before scurrying off to help some other drunkard poor what could have been a second, third, or tenth glass of ale. The poor man was rather frail looking, with a balding head, and big, watery eyes. At least he didn't wear a fake smile and an obvious mask upon his face.

"We don't get tourists like you very often,"a deep voice muttered from beside you. A bearish man, sporting several decorative bangles up and down his thick, dark arms, had made his presence known. One of his giant hands was wrapped around a cold glass of what appeared to be simply water. How odd. "Especially coming alone. Are you an adventure seeker, my friend? Or merely lost? I sometimes find that they are one in the same."

[silverdust]

The stranger surprised him, not an easy thing to do, but with the smell of alcohol and blood about him, his head was beginning to swim ever so slightly. He lifted the covered rapier onto the table, feeling safer with it before him instead of at his side, where it might be knocked free of its binding by a drunken stumble. How these people would react to a weapon in their midst, especially in the hands of a stranger...he would rather not find out. the medallion upon his wrist draped gently over the tarp, glimmering in the dim light. It seemed like any paltry tourist trinket, if not for its strange design.

He smiled a tinge sardonically at the bar top. Normally he would ignore the stranger, as great was his indifference, but he needed information, and the scent of the blood surrounding him, pounding warm and wild with intoxication, it might have had the same effect as a light wine. "Adventurer perhaps, forced as it was."

His voice was soft, silken and monotone, the accent seeming more prominent in the native voices of the bar. He gave a sideways glance at the man. "I guess you could say I am lost as well, as would anyone be arriving in a country they know nothing about."

He didn't admit his weakness openly or easily, the Euclide a proud race. With a light sigh he rested his forehead upon his palm, trying to quiet the throb of the hearts he could hear all about him. As long as he wasn't hallucinating, he was still in the safe zone.

[iprince]

The stranger seemed to listen with rapt attention, nodded his head and grinning and the wry humor of your words. A forced adventurer? Curious. His brow furrowed, as if trying to decide on what reason there might be for such a thing,"You haven't gotten yourself in trouble with the law, have you?" a thick, black brow quirked over the man's eye,"We don't much like outlaws hiding here. It gives us a bad name."

He allowed you to continue your reply to his previous question, the suspicious look still plastered on his tanned face,"In that case, m'lad, everyone who comes here is lost,"he leaned back and waved an arm at some of the bar patrons, dressed in sailor suits,"The men you came here with are all from overseas, few of them know anything about our world." He clasped his hands and leaned forward,"Are you by chance in need for a tour guide? Or a map? They give some out free at the missionary's hut. You could check by in the morning, but maps are completely reliable when you're at a fork in the road. Our jungles are the tamest of places, many an adventurer forgets to take that in mind."

It was then that the bartender appeared in front of you. He smiled a nervous smile and raked his fingers through his thinning hair, that just barely clung to a brown-grey hue,"Sorry about that, ma- er s-,"he squinted his eyes at you, then nodded to himself, as if making a very important decision,"Sir. Now, what can I do for you?"

[silverdust]

He didn't bother to lift his head, closing his eyes in cocentration. Just think about something else, at least this stranger was serving as a distraction. He continued the conversation, perhaps more words than he had said in a very long while. "No, I am not a fugitive. Rather, a pawn in a game."

How funny, the puppeteer had become some form of puppet. He was so used to his solitude, he would've never thought to land himself in this place. Of course, he had read of Brazil in the Marquis castle, but didn't exactly wish to go there, and now. He opened his eyes and glanced sideways at the stranger, an almost smile traceable on his features through the uneven strands of hair trapped in his fingers. "I am afraid no map would help me on my journey. As for the jungle...I am more aware than most of its secrets."

Let the stranger find whatever meanings he wished in those words. Perhaps a guide would be needed, but it would be more of a hindrance than a help. He couldn't have a guide until he knew just where he was going, which seemed like a dead end so far. Maybe he should've followed the jungle's call after all. The appearance of the bartender snapped him out of his reverie. He wasn't surprised nor at the much angered by his confusion, his mother had given him more gifts than useful. He gave a tight smile, mirroring the shopkeeper's earlier masks. "Yes, I would like a room to stay, if there are some left. And..."

He wanted blood. The control had been easier in his old home, where certain objects would serve as distractions, the glimmer of a golden statue, sparks of a crystal chandelier, the multiple books and delicate paintings upon the walls. Here, so far away, there was nothing. His control was fragile in this land, becoming easier and easier to shatter, especially with this heated room. He gave a quick glance sideways, to the stranger's glass. "A water, please," he substituted quickly, the 'please' almost an afterthought. Any alcohol would weaken his control even further.