Description
One night, as you enjoy a drink in your favorite bar, you meet a strange person who talks to you...
=So, ChIlD oF tHe NiGhT, wHo ArE yOu?=
Name: David Bendemann
Alias/Title: Avenger
Age upon death: 23
True age: 25
Gender: Male
Ethnicity: German Jew/British Protestant
Undead type: Black Knight
=Is ThAt So? My EyEs ArEn'T wHaT tHeY uSeD tO bE, wHaT dO yOu LoOk LiKe?=
-Appearance-
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 150 pounds
Body: Medium-build
Hair: Dark and curly, sheared close
Skin: Pale
Tattoos/scars: A scar around the midsection, a memento of disembowlment
Other noticeable traits: A distinct, uneven, walk, as the left side of is slightly larger than the right.
-Typical Clothing-
Torso: Gray hoodie over a short-sleeve shirt
Head: Hood
Legs: Jeans
Feet: Tan walking shoes
Hands: Bare
=tElL mE yOuR sToRy DeAr, I aM sO cUrIoUs...=
Before death: My paternal grandparents immigrated to America a few years before the War, and noone on that side of the family has since returned to the Fatherland. Like so many families, it was important for all of us to make our new land home. My mother was a Protestant, but that didn't lead to any bad blood.
I was raised with an elder sister and a younger brother. My siblings did well in school: Leah became a nurse, and Solly was on path to be a lawyer. As to myself, I preferred life outside the classroom.
Death: Whatever the course of my life, and the lives of my family members, it was not meant to be. The papers didn't even report the brutal quadruple-homicide that left me alone. I couldn't deal with the doddering police. So I took it upon myself to find and kill the murderer. It was not hard, for the murderer was waiting. To a revenant, serial murder is nothing more than a game.
As I lay helpless and dying, my weak prayers to an unlistening God turned into powerful curses... and I rose up a few hours later, a blight upon the world of the living. Even my newfound undeath, I quickly suspected, was part of the game the revenant had set in motion, but my torment demanded I destroy this nemesis.
After death: I spent the last two years trying to outwit the revenant that killed me and my family. In the game of cat-and-mouse, it is sometimes difficult to tell which one is the cat, though.
=WhErE hAvE yOuR fEeT tAkEn YoU?=
Reputations: The police know about the death of my family, but not about my death. I know that I've appeared in more than a few murder reports.
Bounties/debts: I am wanted by police for questioning, as both a potential vigilante and a valuable witness.
Sanctuaries: I'm comfortable enough with the layout of the city to be able to find deserted stairwells, unused rooftops, and inconspicuous overpasses.
=HoW hAvE yOu SuRvIvEd ThEsE nIgHtS?=
Weapon: As a black knight, I think I make a dangerous pugilist and wrestler. I don't really care for weapons, although I do carry these stakes, when the time comes to dispatch my tormentor.
Skills: I'm able to charm my way in and out of situations, having wasted my youth learning nothing "practical".
Limitations: Um, I'm slightly asymmetrical, so I favour my left side. But it's mostly cosmetic, although, then again, it can lead to clumsiness when I'm under stress.
=I'vE tAkEn ToO mUcH oF yOuR tImE, bUt PlEaSe TeLl Me...WhAt Is It YoU hOlD mOsT iMpOrTaNt?=
Belief 1: Good family and friends are the greatest things in life.
Belief 2: Words, not violence, can solve most problems.
Belief 3: Those who don't respect life don't deserve to live.
Belief 4: Revenants must be destroyed.
Instinct 1: If things aren't going your way, try a smile.
Instinct 2: When threatened, use your charm to defuse the situation.
Instinct 3: If the odds are stacked against you, run.
As you leave, something happens...
Role playing sample:
The lamplight flickered with a fluorescent buzz, as three punks moved out of the alley. The one on the left had dreads under a red skullcap. The bruiser on the right had a skull tattooed across his face, and what looked like something metal in his hand. In the middle was a brash-looking kid, no more than sixteen, with his waistline down to his knees. "I know you," said the last, "and I want your wallet."
"Don't you have school tomorrow?" David grinned steadily, "your parents must be worried sick." No one flinched.
"Didn't you hear me, man? Wallet. Now."
The three kids had separated, and now the four of them stood at the corners of a diamond, ready as baseball players. He thought about running, but telling that stranger the story of his death had soured his evening. David let the anger in, and said he: "You know, I'm kind of in the mood for this."
Had they moved as one, they might have had a chance. But they were young, and clumsy. These kids didn't know a thing about friendship. Good friends should practise their battle tactics together:
Dear Princess Celestia...