Legend of Krystal Forums

Magic in this setting is mostly ceremonial, ritual-based, built around symbols and runes and exotic concoctions and enchanted items. No (or at least extremely rare) fireball-casting. Think Constantine (er, movie Constantine) or the wonderful series 'Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell' (if you havn't seen it, see it!).
More inspiration might be found in entities like the 'Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn', Druidic paganism, Lares and Penates worship, runic magic, that sort of thing. Chants and inscriptions.

There are magical forms from other countries... but they are confusing to adherents of a different form, much like languages.

More 'direct' magic... for example, the classical 'cast a fireball'... is incredibly difficult, and mostly reserved for true supernatural entities.

Speaking of supernatural entities, there are angels, demons, fae folk, gnomes goblins and kobolds, ghosts... the list goes on.

Ultimately, getting even a minor grasp of magic is difficult, requiring a great deal of study and a certain level of intelligence. There are few centers of learning of any form.

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Character Description: (Physical, Mental, Biographical)


Stats (Each out of 10, where 1 is completely incompetent and 10 is godlike. Start with assigning 10 more points among them for a total of 14 assigned)

Wits (Essentialy wisdom and intelligence): 1

Physique (strength and stamina): 1

Grace (agility and charisma): 1

Spirit (Supernatural defense and offense): 1


Perks and flaws:
(I will select and assign these based on your character's description. They will either affect your base stats or act as modifiers during events, if not both)


Equipment:
(Equipment can affect stats in rolls)

OOC
Please just drop a few meta-notes here... your likes/kinks and limits, perhaps a vague idea of where you as the player would like to get your character to.
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Age: 19
Appearance: Slim and slightly curvy red head with deep emerald eyes wearing a duster and a worn leather "cowboy" hat. The brim hangs over her eyes and gives her an air of mystery about her. Under the duster she likes to wear a simple clothe shirt and most appalling of all is her "jeans." Filthy Americans. To mitigate some of the abhorrent looks and public outcry the Brits would show at her clothing she has put on a little skirt that barely reaches the backs of her thighs. Also she has a really nice butt. -u-

Background: Amber was raised in the Great Plains of wild America. Taken from her family by one of the Indian tribes there. The tribe raised her in their ways and she learned the importance of Nature. She became a bit of a shaman in her time there. Training under him for a long time before making out on her own to pursue talk of a something dark and threatening. Straining against its confines and wanting to make its way to her home. The wise man had heard the Earth rumbles and heeded her pleas. He sent his charge East. Her only weapons, a medicine bag on her hip and her iron in the other. Sandalwood grips and blued steel punishing those who would defy her.

Stats
Wits: 3
Physique: 2
Grace: 4
Spirit: 5

Perks and flaws:
Hot Blooded: She's quick to anger and make rash decisions but also hard to handle when she gets this way.
Crack Shot: Life on the American Frontier means having a fire arm and knowing how to use it. Amber gets a small advantage on rolls involving her "Iron" in combat.
False Front: Amber likes things to go her way. When it doesn't she quickly loses the initiative and crumbles. Hard to recover from unexpected events.

Equipment:
American Native-style Medicine Bag.
Her "Iron" Colt Single Action Army.
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Character Description:
Physical:https://chan.sankakucomplex.com/post/show/5535261

Mental: Dalila is a rather naive girl. She has a tendency to be easily discouraged in the moment, but to bounce back rather well and to be all together emotional. If there is one thing she could change about herself it would be the ease with which people manage to play tricks on her.

Biographical: Raised in a Christian orphanage Dalila learned from a young age the wonders of god. To her forgiveness was the most beautiful thing in the world, and in the words of her Priest none were more forgiving than the lord. She loved nothing more than singing the praises of God in church every Sunday, so it came as no surprise when she sought to turn to the cloth. Learning how to serve god and bring his word and forgiveness to the people. One day late in her studies she heard a few priests speaking to one another in hushed tones about a horrible place filled with terrible debauchery where the word went unheeded. Apparently, a priest had been dispatched there only to soon disappear. Once she had taken her vows she sought permission to seek out the place and either help the priest with his duty or try to spread the word herself should he be missing. Her Mother Superior upon hearing her desire to take on the mission was most worried. Handing Dalila a copy of the Holy Book the older woman reminded her to always keep the word close to her heart. Delila took the book into her bosom and promised to cherish it always before setting off on her journey. Surely these poor souls need only hear his divine word and they would repent without hesitation.

Stats
Wits: 3
Physique: 2
Grace: 6
Spirit: 3

Perks and flaws:
Holy. Her faith, as long as it doesn't waver, is a strong defense against supernatural attacks. However, the moment it does waver, she is much more vulnerable to the supernatural effects than she would otherwise be.
Learning. She grew up with a wide variety of books (at least, those permitted by the orphanage and convent). Surprising bits of knowledge are tucked into her memory.
Attractive. More than just good looks, her positive nature shines through. People accept and trust her more easily. Those drawn to corruption are also more interested in her, but with darker intentions.

Equipment:
Nun's Habit - Hard-wearing cloth, a 'smock' made of thick, strong material, paired with an optional cowl and veil. Relatively water resistant, warm.
Holy Bible - Heavy, leather-bound, with a silver crucifix embossed into the cover.

OOC:
Likes:Bestiality, Non-Consensual, Being Tricked into sex, Multiple Partners, Exposure, Most things not in dislikes
Dislikes:Guro, Scat, Watersports.
Where I'd like her to end up: Ravished a bit maybe eventually escaping with her faith shaken by the experience
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Age: 21
Appearance:
http://pm1.narvii.com/5712/8621d4143218 ... 1d9_hq.jpg

Bio:
Rebecca had always idolised her father, knowing him more by his rank than his name. The Colonel, as she and everyone else called him, embodied every virtue the British army extolled. She remembered watching him march on the parade ground outside the barracks and believed he and men cut such the dashing figure. Perhaps it was his absence that made her affection grow stronger, his duties to the regiment oft taking him away for periods of time that made those scant hours or days she had with him all the sweeter.

Her mother was an artist, or so claimed to be. Despite being a constant presence in the house she had little to the raising of her child, almost treating her as a nuisance instead of a daughter. A governess was employed full time to mind, raise and educate the child so her mother could spend time in her studio or lounge through the midday hours. When her father was away her mother would hold gatherings, Salons she called them, where intellectuals would gather to discuss great works, or so her mother claimed. Rebecca did not think much of the men and 'ladies' that slipped into her father's house.

One night, when she was still young, she was woken in the night by one such gathering, a contemptible raucous of men and women screaming and moaning, or so her governess had grumbled as she went down stairs to complain. Rebecca woke the next morning to find a new governess unpacking her things in the old one's room. Another meeting she remembered when she was older, at the cusp of turning into a woman, she was woken by shrieks and giggles outside the house. Creeping to the window lest she was seen, she peered out a blushed at what she saw. Men and women, naked as the day god made them bar strange animal masks, ran, danced and frolicked in the guardians. Rebecca almost laughed her self at the sight, but didn't as she felt her stomach churn at the sight of her mother and a man doing something she would not understand until years later.

She never had the chance to tell her father about that meeting, the next day she had gone on holiday to France with a friend. When returned a week later her mother was gone. The house was empty, save for her father, who wept openly as he sat on the stairs. A broken man, he simple stated her mother had left. No why or reason was forthcoming from him, or a date of expected return, she had left and that was the end of the matter. The next day he had thrown out all of his wife's possessions and anything in the house that reminded him of her, as if to confirm that woman had no further grasp on him. Only Rebecca knew it still did.

When the carts were carrying away her mother's things she saved one item, a silver locket and crucifix her father had always worn when he went away. The locket contained a photo of her mother, a small of pang of guilt lingered within Rebecca at the thought of maybe if she had been a better daughter her mother would not have left.

The Colonel soon retired from the regiment and Rebecca hoped it meant they would spend more time together, alas the opposite was true. Her father became more distant and cold, there talks over supper the only time she saw him but soon these too soured. Isolated, no young suitors or bachelors came to visit, no guests from the regiment who would make a suitable husband for her; a fact her father picked up and exploited as if it were a tactical decision on the battlefield, bereft of emotion. One evening, drunk, lonely and still heartbroken he cursed her, shaming her to be a spinster, that he had no sons to carry his name or legacy, that all would be lost.

Rebecca fled that night. Taking only a few bare essentials and some of her father's old clothes from a trunk in the attic she left the estate. She had never been as well endowed as her mother and Rebecca found that with a simple binding she could hide the female curves of her chest to pass a boy. Hiking as far as she needed to the next county, she enlisted with a different regiment under a fake name.

Her time with the Regiment was hard but rewarding and Rebecca, now Rob, found she enjoyed the life. The most difficult task was hiding concealing her identity from her comrades, making sure she bathed well ahead or after the others. When men and boys told dirty jokes or stories and she blushed, it was cast aside as her being an innocent or naive lad. The actual job of soldiering was easy by comparison and she took to it well. During this time, Rebecca made sure to have friends check in on her father and create the alibi that she was staying with them until he was cured of his melancholy.

Rebecca was determined to make her father proud, whether as a daughter or son, and she had not long to wait as her Regiment was deployed to the escalating situation in the Sudan. By all reports, private Robert Smith 527 acquitted himself well on the campaign and was to receive commendation for bravery initiative in saving the company in which he served. That report glossed over a swirling maelstrom of heat and cloying sand, a company sent on patrol and then trapped, besieged at a remote oasis as they were picked off one by one. The massacre had started with the Officers and then NCOs by trained marksmen until only a ragged gaggle of privates and other enlisted were left huddled behind mud brick walls to face the final assault. It was then a plucky little private by the name of Smith rallied the men and saw of the enemy to save the day. Of course there hadn't been much left of the day to save, or a company either, 6 men fit for duty with 30 wounded to look after. One such wounded soldier was more important than the others, the company's young Captain, who just so happened to be the son of a general.

With not enough replacements available, the plucky private Rob was quickly promoted and given a field commission to 2nd Lieutenant as the company was sent to the rear to reform. The rapidly recovering Captain ensured his saviour was rewarded and kept close.

It was at this time she received word her father, who had become even more dejected and pined for his lost loves in her absence, had gone missing. Rumors stated he had been seen last on the roads around Ironwald. Rebecca immediately petitioned for emergency leave to find her father and had it granted as the company would be out of action still for some time.

Wits: 4
Physique: 5
Grace: 4
Spirit: 1

Perks and flaws:
Shaken Nerve. Called shellshock in the later wars, and PTSD today. Watching friends die, screaming and bloody, tends to leave a mark on a person, as does the battlefield conditions of discomfort and stress. Sudden shocks or severe stress might send Rebecca into a catatonic thousand-yard-stare, or make her react with abrupt, inappropriate rage. Of course, sometimes abrupt rage is a good solution to a dangerous problem.
Daddy's Girl. Rebecca finds it hard to concentrate on anything that doesn't immediately lead to finding her father, while having unusual focus on anything that does.
Good Shot. Lots of practice, and then assisting in training the locals, means Rebecca is more than competent with pistols and rifles.

Equipment:
Service Revolver - Enfield MkI. Cumbersome and prone to jam.
Silver locket and Crucifix
Silver lighter and cigarette case

OOC:
Kinks - lean towards the nonconsent/reluctance and humiliation, but open to pretty much anything that isn't too extreme
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Age: 21
Character Description: Niles is a reporter and a darn good one at that. Starting out as little more than a paper 'boy', she got lucky on a scoop and managed to get in as a junior reporter for a local paper. At the age of 14, it was easy to hide her appearance. Standards and discrimination said that no woman could report the things a man did, so she disguised herself. Things got difficult as Niles grew up. Her body filled out quite substantially, necessitating the use of binders and being more careful with her clothing.
With an otherwise small build and somewhat high voice, others often found 'him' quite charming and easy to talk to. Especially popular with the ladies, though 'he' never told anyone what secrets were used to gain such attention.
Now an adult, she landed a slot with none other than the Times! Exciting indeed. Now, chasing rumours of this supposedly cursed town, the critical minded Niles Woodstock has come to find the truth!

Physical Appearance:
https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2394648
https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2376663

Stats:
Wits: 4
Physique: 2
Grace: 5
Spirit: 3

Perks and flaws:
Reporter's Eye - Niles notices details that are odd, that don't quite fit, whether it's something odd that someone says, or a weird thing that shouldn't be where it is. However, she might over-focus on some hidden details, and miss others.
Disguises - Her practice at crossdressing has given her insights into hiding personal details, as well as spotting other's attempts at masking things.
Guilty Secrets Niles is all about revealing the truth. Her drive to uncover secrets makes her struggle with her own... she finds it very hard to lie convincingly at short notice. However, practice and experience means she's very good at lying and subterfuge when given sufficient preparation time.

Equipment:
- Camera, tripod and associated parts
- Notepad and valuable, good-quality pen
- One of the men she spoke to about Ironwold gave her a square of cloth, claiming it's from the town. It's blackened in one corner, as if from fire, and there's a stain that looks like old, dried blood in another corner. It could be torn from a cheap white dress. Niles feels its important in some way, but can't justify the feeling.

OOC:
Likes/Kinks: Letting her breasts free/fondled, Girls, Scandal, preferably not involving her, and any good gossip, Exhibitionism, Watching others, Pet Play, Feminine nicknames/being called 'good girl', Cute girls, Teasing, Lactation
Dislikes/Limits: Scat, Guro, Watersports, Diaper play, Forced, Violent/too aggressive sex, Being tied up/unable to move, Vore, Parasites
What do I want in the end?: I want Niles to get a little funky, but ultimately 'win' and come out on top.
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Character Description:
Physical: http://orig07.deviantart.net/4ef9/f/201 ... 8inua1.jpg (I tried to find a bit more of a Victorian character, but found no good ones so this was the closest I got sorry if its a bit too steampunky)
Mental: Natalie is an extremely over confident with her skills preferring to work by herself, thinking others will just get in her way. She has a fierce adventuring spirit, always studying and reading anything of interest she can find, which is most things. When it comes to social interaction she is rather shy and prefers to avoid talking. When confronted though she is rather rash, acting hotheaded, easily agitated and will never admit she is wrong infront of others.

Biographical:Natalie grew up on the harsh streets of Bristol, her family was very poor so natalie quickly grew a knack for theft and pick pocketing. She rarely stole money, only food and books. Lots of books. She grew some what infamous around the libraries and book stores. She didn't like being a little crook, but she also had a thirst for knowledge and her parents would only buy books to stoke the fire. During this time in her life she became very good at running, often shimmying up fences and sprinting down winding alleys to slip away. Life was going smoothly, her thieving keeping her feed and her reading keeping her knowledged, she might have considered doing this her whole life if she had to until one fatefulday. The failed pickpocket, she has tried to block it from her mind however, the thoughts of herself crumpled in a dank alley still make her shiver. Ever since that day she immidlietly started searching for work, along with carrying a knife, she couldn't handle the thieving life on the streets of Bristol any longer, she felt too paranoid.
An out luckily revealed itself. A journalist approached her, offering her a job to be his source. The offer was incredible and she seized the opportunity without hesitation. It has been a year since then and she has still been gathering evidence for Frank Norman ever snce. Though she was now tasked with a mysterious job, the investigation of a small town up north. She had heard of it sure, but to go there? It took all her courage, plus the fact her job was on line to go to the town. The carriage Frank had given her stopped at the start of a long lonesome road. Swallowing hard she stepped off the carriage and onto the unkept path. The cart quickly taking off, leaving her Anne in the woods, or so she hoped.

Stats:
Wits: 6
Physique: 3
Grace: 4
Spirit: 1

Perks and flaws:
Runner. She's more agile than she looks, even in skirts, at least when it comes to dodging down an alley.
Book learning. A wide assortment of odd bits of knowledge are stuck in the corners of her head. Occasionally it's even useful.
It's cold out there Life on the streets and in hovels means she's pretty good at handling the cold and damp. She's managed to shrug off a lot of illnesses as well.

Equipment:
A journal about the mysterious around this town she managed to find, though cryptic and tattered it would hopefully still hold some valuable information when the time comes. The leather cover is unmarked and the pages are handwritten in a spidery, ink-spattered script.
A bag of coins. Nearly two pounds in shillings and pence.
Pocket knife - A heavy folding lockknife. A knurled point on the blade allows one-handed opening, and the battered hilt makes for a good grip. Not something a practiced fighter would select, but not a bad weapon.
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Age: 23
Character Description:
Physical Appearance: http://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2433536
Outfit: http://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1548077

Mental: Jezebel is an energetic & curious girl who was always willing to help those around her. She has a surprisingly positive outlook on like despite how difficult her life has been.

Biographical: Jezebel was born to a house slave by the name of Maribelle and her owner Joseph in Mississippi. She was raised by her mother in the main house and it wasn't strange to see white men enter her room for minutes, even hours. Soon questions began to surfaced about how the girl's father was. To hide the product of his illicit affair from his wife and the community, Joseph sent Jezebel away to a boarding school in London at the age of 10. With no choose in the matter, Maribelle let her child go. The only things left to Jezebel were a few clothes and a pocket watch her mother had stole from Joseph. Scratched into the cover was a small charm and a message, "Never sell yourself".

When Jezebel reached the school she was mocked and abused by many of the other students. Being the only black student in an all white girl's academy was taxing. All her attempts to make friends were rejected at every turn. She did manage to learn how to read and write and even count. However the bullying became too much. When she finally turned 16 she left the boarding school but found she had no way of returning home. Poor and alone, Jezebel took on odd jobs where ever she could as a maid, waitress or a nurse. Not to get home but to merely survive. Often times, people would try to trick her into working as a prostitute of becoming the main attraction in some show showing off "Exotic Women From the Dark Continent". But Jezebel just remembered her pocket watch and the inscription inside.

However there were days when would have to sit on the streets and beg. On lonely nights she would often look up at the sky and wonder what her mother was doing or if she was still alive. Even though she barely remembered her home, she remembers her mother's face.

One such lonely night, Jezebel overheard a conversation about a place called Ironwold Town. The two gentlemen talked about how distinguished families were looking for people who could do any kind of work. While vague, she couldn’t turn down the opportunity to fill her coffers.

Stats:
Wits: 4
Physique: 2
Grace: 5
Spirit: 3

Perks and flaws:
Life on the streets: Living out-of-doors has given Jezebel a certain level of toughness. She can eat things that'd make others sick, and had pretty good endurance in the face of heat and especially cold. However, she's not so great with the book-learnin'
Household skills:Cook, mend, clean... even basic diy-type things. Working as maids and the like has given her a lot of experience with the demands of maintaining a household... including some surprising skills, like a good eye for the value of items, or the ability to manhandle a drunken butler to his bed before the Master of the house sees him.
Charm:A dark skin is a definite disadvantage in the 1880s. You have to be good at making friends, at least superficially, to survive. Jezebel has an advantage when chatting to a stranger.

Equipment:
Stolen Pocket Watch - Heavy, expensive, currently not working. There's an odd inscription scraped into the inside of the cover... it looks like a crude eye with a squiggle underneath it.

Kinks: Rape, Prostitution, Gang-bang, Bestiality, Monsters, Orgy, Vanilla, Exhibitionism, Body Modification (Breast expansion, Cock growth etc.), Yuri, Futanari, Public Use, Incest, Tentacles, Bondage
Limits: Guro, Scat, Flexible on Vore
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Age: 18
Appearance: http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbpp6 ... 13_500.jpg

Bio:
Breanna was born just outside of Liverpool to a Mr. and Mrs. Edward Hopkins. Her families situation was rather unique. They were dangerously straddling serf and gentleman. That is to say that they didn't have enough money for fancy clothes, perfumes, powdered wigs and such, but they lived far more comfortably than the average British citizen or nationalist. Breanna's father Edward was a third generation carriage crafter or coach builder or whatever you wish to call it. Just shy of ninety years of hard work had landed the family with a workshop, a large home, and an underappreciated garden. Breanna spent her early years housekeeping with her mother, general chores and tending to her elder's needs. She had, and still has two older brothers, Jacob and Alfred (who she calls Alfee). Her brothers were absorbed into their father work as soon as they could walk. Fetching tools, sanding wood, running to the factory to buy nails or screw. There was nothing those two couldn't accomplish. As the years went on jealousy grew in Breanna, and after several heated confrontations with her mother and father, she was allowed to apprentice in the workshop. She cherished the chance to prove that she was just as capable as her brothers and did so on numerous occasion while apprenticing. Her days were filled with hard work but it was far better than sitting around at home. She was so pleased to finally be rid of her boring life. That pleasure didn't last however. When she was thirteen her father began to seek out a husband for her. Breanna terribly dreaded the idea of the leaving the family and marrying some shmuck and giving up her craft. She did her best to foil any attempt her father made to find her a husband and took equal steps to embarrass any suitors. It worked for the better part of a year but eventually she was pulled away from the workshop she called home and flung into some fancy dress.

She had met the man she was to marry perhaps once before, but with little interest in becoming a wife she didn't bother to pay any attention. Her family wasn't particularly large, but the Griffiths were practically a litter of wild cats. Well-dressed and proudly spoken cats, but cats all the same. Her husband was charming enough, not terribly posh and still in his youth, he was no doubt ten years her senior but Breanna had been witness to far worse a marriage. She found the entire day to be dreadfully dull, other than the wine and ale, which was cheap but still good, and she could drink all she wanted, which she did. It wasn't particularly lady-like to get smashed during the wedding ceremony but both families were either oblivious or too kind to say anything. The evening of her wedding was far less dull but equally as unenjoyable. Despite her rebellious nature in her youth, she had never taken to prostitution nor general sexual foolery. She had remained abstinent till her wedding as she was instructed to do by every preacher or priest she had ever met. Her husband however, was quite practiced, and quite fond of intercourse. It didn't take long for Breanna to join in his enthusiasm.

Her first year of married life was far better than she expected. She lived with her husband Charles in a modestly sized estate with a handful of servants. She ate good food drank good ale and had good sex. It did not take long for the boredom that she once felt as a young girl to return, though. She yearned to work, to do something other than sit at home, but it would tarnish Charles' name if other members of the high class thought he could not provide for his wife. So instead she begged Charles for some supplies to carve and craft just something to keep her busy. Instead of supplies Breanna found herself to be an expected mother. She thought that perhaps her days will be full of joy caring for her child, but when the baby was finally delivered, she learned that the servant provided most of the child care. Breanna nursed for the first year or so before they switched Richard to more solid food. She enjoyed the time she spent with Richard but she was still unhappy with her daily life. She began to argue with Charles every day and lash out at servants for no reason. She was miserably depressed.

She lasted just shy of four years as a housewife when she decided she had had enough. She wrote a brief letter to Charles, gave Richard a final embrace, and took off into the night. She was criminal. Leaving her husband was a crime in itself but she had also taken a sizeable sack of coin and a horse from their stables. While on the run she heard of a town by the name of Ironwold. The stories that the travelers spoke scared her, but she was certain that Charles would not dare chase her through such a hell. By the time she reached the road in she had sold the horse and most of her attire, and as she peered toward the town in the distant all she could think was What in the bloody hell am I doing here?


Stats:
Wits: 3
Physique: 4
Grace: 5
Spirit: 2

Perks and flaws:
Cold. She remains calm and clinical in moments of stress. However, people sense the hardness of her nature, and won't open up to her as quickly.
Craft. She's good with her hands, especially in a woodworking shop.
Lost. She has no direction. Commonalities bore her, comfort stifles her, so anything that isn't urgent or exciting means she struggles to concentrate. She has an advantage with anything that thrills her, however.

Equipment:
A heavy purse. Unusual wealth for a traveller.
Wooden curio. Handed to you by the carriage driver... unspoken, without explanation, it was pushed into your hands before he quickly rode on. It's a sealed wooden box, about two inches square and four long. There's no obvious way to open it, and there's something inside, knocking around when it's shaken.

OOC
I'm down for most stuff, no bathroom play, or vore, and heavy bondage aint my thing but just play it by ear, If I feel uncomfortable at anypoint I will let you know.
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Rebecca had always idolised her father, knowing him more by his rank than his name. The Colonel, as she and everyone else called him, embodied every virtue the British army extolled. She remembered watching him march on the parade ground outside the barracks and believed he and men cut such the dashing figure. Perhaps it was his absence that made her affection grow stronger, his duties to the regiment oft taking him away for periods of time that made those scant hours or days she had with him all the sweeter.

Her mother was an artist, or so claimed to be. Despite being a constant presence in the house she had little to the raising of her child, almost treating her as a nuisance instead of a daughter. A governess was employed full time to mind, raise and educate the child so her mother could spend time in her studio or lounge through the midday hours. When her father was away her mother would hold gatherings, Salons she called them, where intellectuals would gather to discuss great works, or so her mother claimed. Rebecca did not think much of the men and 'ladies' that slipped into her father's house.

One night, when she was still young, she was woken in the night by one such gathering, a contemptible raucous of men and women screaming and moaning, or so her governess had grumbled as she went down stairs to complain. Rebecca woke the next morning to find a new governess unpacking her things in the old one's room. Another meeting she remembered when she was older, at the cusp of turning into a woman, she was woken by shrieks and giggles outside the house. Creeping to the window lest she was seen, she peered out a blushed at what she saw. Men and women, naked as the day god made them bar strange animal masks, ran, danced and frolicked in the guardians. Rebecca almost laughed her self at the sight, but didn't as she felt her stomach churn at the sight of her mother and a man doing something she would not understand until years later.

She never had the chance to tell her father about that meeting, the next day she had gone on holiday to France with a friend. When returned a week later her mother was gone. The house was empty, save for her father, who wept openly as he sat on the stairs. A broken man, he simple stated her mother had left. No why or reason was forthcoming from him, or a date of expected return, she had left and that was the end of the matter. The next day he had thrown out all of his wife's possessions and anything in the house that reminded him of her, as if to confirm that woman had no further grasp on him. Only Rebecca knew it still did.

When the carts were carrying away her mother's things she saved one item, a silver locket and crucifix her father had always worn when he went away. The locket contained a photo of her mother, a small of pang of guilt lingered within Rebecca at the thought of maybe if she had been a better daughter her mother would not have left.

The Colonel soon retired from the regiment and Rebecca hoped it meant they would spend more time together, alas the opposite was true. Her father became more distant and cold, there talks over supper the only time she saw him but soon these too soured. Isolated, no young suitors or bachelors came to visit, no guests from the regiment who would make a suitable husband for her; a fact her father picked up and exploited as if it were a tactical decision on the battlefield, bereft of emotion. One evening, drunk, lonely and still heartbroken he cursed her, shaming her to be a spinster, that he had no sons to carry his name or legacy, that all would be lost.

Rebecca fled that night. Taking only a few bare essentials and some of her father's old clothes from a trunk in the attic she left the estate. She had never been as well endowed as her mother and Rebecca found that with a simple binding she could hide the female curves of her chest to pass a boy. Hiking as far as she needed to the next county, she enlisted with a different regiment under a fake name.

Her time with the Regiment was hard but rewarding and Rebecca, now Rob, found she enjoyed the life. The most difficult task was hiding concealing her identity from her comrades, making sure she bathed well ahead or after the others. When men and boys told dirty jokes or stories and she blushed, it was cast aside as her being an innocent or naive lad. The actual job of soldiering was easy by comparison and she took to it well. During this time, Rebecca made sure to have friends check in on her father and create the alibi that she was staying with them until he was cured of his melancholy.

Rebecca was determined to make her father proud, whether as a daughter or son, and she had not long to wait as her Regiment was deployed to the escalating situation in the Sudan. By all reports, private Robert Smith 527 acquitted himself well on the campaign and was to receive commendation for bravery initiative in saving the company in which he served. That report glossed over a swirling maelstrom of heat and cloying sand, a company sent on patrol and then trapped, besieged at a remote oasis as they were picked off one by one. The massacre had started with the Officers and then NCOs by trained marksmen until only a ragged gaggle of privates and other enlisted were left huddled behind mud brick walls to face the final assault. It was then a plucky little private by the name of Smith rallied the men and saw of the enemy to save the day. Of course there hadn't been much left of the day to save, or a company either, 6 men fit for duty with 30 wounded to look after. One such wounded soldier was more important than the others, the company's young Captain, who just so happened to be the son of a general.

With not enough replacements available, the plucky private Rob was quickly promoted and given a field commission to 2nd Lieutenant as the company was sent to the rear to reform. The rapidly recovering Captain ensured his saviour was rewarded and kept close.

It was at this time she received word her father, who had become even more dejected and pined for his lost loves in her absence, had gone missing. Rumors stated he had been seen last on the roads around Ironwald. Rebecca immediately petitioned for emergency leave to find her father and had it granted as the company would be out of action still for some time.

Natalie grew up on the harsh streets of Bristol, her family was very poor so natalie quickly grew a knack for theft and pick pocketing. She rarely stole money, only food and books. Lots of books. She grew some what infamous around the libraries and book stores. She didn't like being a little crook, but she also had a thirst for knowledge and her parents would only buy books to stoke the fire. During this time in her life she became very good at running, often shimmying up fences and sprinting down winding alleys to slip away. Life was going smoothly, her thieving keeping her feed and her reading keeping her knowledged, she might have considered doing this her whole life if she had to until one fatefulday. The failed pickpocket, she has tried to block it from her mind however, the thoughts of herself crumpled in a dank alley still make her shiver. Ever since that day she immidlietly started searching for work, along with carrying a knife, she couldn't handle the thieving life on the streets of Bristol any longer, she felt too paranoid.
An out luckily revealed itself. A journalist approached her, offering her a job to be his source. The offer was incredible and she seized the opportunity without hesitation. It has been a year since then and she has still been gathering evidence for Frank Norman ever snce. Though she was now tasked with a mysterious job, the investigation of a small town up north. She had heard of it sure, but to go there? It took all her courage, plus the fact her job was on line to go to the town. The carriage Frank had given her stopped at the start of a long lonesome road. Swallowing hard she stepped off the carriage and onto the unkept path. The cart quickly taking off, leaving her Anne in the woods, or so she hoped.

Because a guy like this would be hilarious

He has a grill, in the 1880's!

https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2394648

Without Binder:

https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2376663