Fantasy CS Sheets for the Case of the Whitechapel Ripper

[Coyote]

ALL BLESSINGS​

This list is subject to updates as needed

Star-Crossed: Two characters are bound by fate. No matter where they are, they will know each other’s location in a way similar to a compass. Additionally, whether you want to or not, any emotions felt by one character, are also felt by the other. You can communicate with each other telepathically but if one of your accrues stress, so will the other. If one of you dies… so will the other.

(Taken)

Eyes of Beyond: If Jack the Ripper has visited a place, you will discover ultraviolet ashes, like a bioluminescent soot that sifts about the air. It will help you keep track of where he is, was, or potentially will be.

(Taken)

Now You See Me: If no light is cast upon you, you can become invisible. However, you are revealed partially by matches, or completely by lantern light. Moonlight does not apply here.

(Taken)

Magic Toolbox: When you close your hand into a fist, you can imagine any object into existence so long as it meets two conditions.
You have seen this object before
It can fit within a closed fist

(Taken)

Ghostly Lanterns: When you wish, you can conjure a small sphere of light (up to 3) that can move about in accordance to your wishes. Additionally, you can cause the light to burst, creating a blinding flash before disappearing entirely. This can only be done 3 times a day.

(Taken)

Guardian Keepsakes: Choose 3 keepsakes that hold a strong memory for you. When you so choose, sacrifice permanently one of these keepsakes in exchange for stopping time for 3 seconds.

One Life: Once per person, you can choose to undo an otherwise fatal wound so long as the person has not yet died.

(Taken)

Clairvoyance: You periodically receive visions seconds, sometimes minutes into the future, giving you glimpses of what may happen.

(Taken)

The Looking Glass: In your possession is a seemingly indestructible pane of glass roughly the size of a quarter. If you peer through it, you gain the ability to look through a wall as if a small hole was carved through it to the other side.

CS Sheet
​

Name:

DOB:

Nationality:

Appearance:

Blessing:

Backstory: (Why are you in London? Why are you called to the scene of a murder the morning of August 7th at 5 in the morning?)

Journal Entry: (Journal Entry is the most important bit. Read a journal entry from the perspective of your character on the morning of August 3rd retelling a strangely vivid dream where they gained a blessing and learned how to use it. Present in the dream was a two headed raven and a centurion helmed falcon. Outside of that, you are free to characterize the Dream however you wish)

 

[Anakisuto]

Name: Ashley "Ash" Windsor

DOB: August 14th

Nationality: American

Appearance:

Blessing: Guardians Keepsakes (Also waiting for Brainstormers)

Backstory: Ashley is a private investigator based in Seattle who was traveling to London for a vacation. Once she heard about the murders, she decided to extend her trip in order to try to assist in solving them. She followed a tip from the local police to the murder scene.

Journal Entry: [Working on in a gdoc. Will fill in soon.]

 

[tityanya]

The Basics:

Appearance: Pale blonde hair, incredibly long as befitting the time period. When she is at the brothel, she wears her hair down. When she is out and about in the city, she has it properly tucked away. She has pale blue eyes, and a general gentle countenance. Her pale skin is marred on her left collar bone by a vicious scar, the result of an attack on her. Outside of the brothel, she makes sure it is always covered by her clothing, but inside the brothel she doesn't care.
Name: Morella Thompson
Nickname: Ellie
Age: 20
DOB March 31st 1868
Nationality English

The Details:

Personality: While Morella tries to portray herself as "The Angel in the House," she really is anything but. She's headstrong, determined, and hard working. She's very opinionated, and isn't afraid to let you know what she thinks. She also has a bit of a nasty temper, and is ready to fly into rages if anyone looks down on her for how she grew up. Despite that, she is very loyal and is ready to direct her anger and ambition to help those she loves. She has a bit of a hypocritical view towards prostitution, knowing that all her money comes from it and finding no issue with women who do the work, but being outraged and deeply offended when people suggest she do it herself.

Blessing: Star-Crossed Two characters are bound by fate. No matter where they are, they will know each other’s location in a way similar to a compass. Additionally, whether you want to or not, any emotions felt by one character, are also felt by the other. You can communicate with each other telepathically but if one of your accrues stress, so will the other. If one of you dies… so will the other.

Backstory: Morella was born in 1868 to Caroline Hart, a prostitute. Caroline always told Morella she didn't know who her father was, that he was just one of the many Johns that visited her. Shortly after she was born, her mother and another lady of the night, Bettina, had saved enough money between them to open up a brothel, the "House of Jade Pleasures." Caroline became the Madame, and together they recruited girls with the promise of a safe, comfortable place to work.

As such, Morella grew up inside the brothel, alongside the working girls. From a young age she knew what they did for money, for nothing could be hidden from a curious child. But Caroline was always adamant that Morella not grow up to become a prostitute like her mother and grandmother. Bettina had had ambitions of being a governess, but when she relocated from Italy to England, no one wanted to hire her. But she was as sharp as a tack, and had ambitions of molding Morella to be the same. Before opening, she would school Morella, teaching her how to read and history and arithmetic. Little Morella loved hearing the stories about Italy and ancient Rome, and soaked up all the knowledge Bettina would give her like a sponge.

When she was fourteen, Morella decided to start helping around in the brothel. She watched as her mother did the books, helped the bartenders make drinks, and helped the working girls with their makeup and mending their clothes. She was a little busy bee, always scurrying around the bar floor helping with whatever needed to be done. Unfortunately, it also made her catch the eye of some of the men that frequented the establishment. Leering, groping, uncomfortable comments. Boris, the guard who stood outside, made a new rule because of it: If you touched little Ellie, you were banned from the establishment. And that threat worked for the most part. Boris warned the men as they came in, and there was zero tolerance. No warning, immediate removal from the premises.

That was, until one night when Morella was 16. A regular had gotten incredibly drunk, slurring his words until they were incomprehensible. When Morella delivered his new tankard of ale, he grabbed onto her. He demanded to know when he would be allowed to sleep with her, how much her first time would cost. Caroline told him to let her go, and that her daughter would never become a prostitute. He responded by pulling a knife and threatening to cut up her face if they didn't let him. Bettina managed to push the knife away from Morella's face, but it managed to cut deep into Morella's collarbone and Bettina's hand instead, leaving ugly scars after they had healed. Boris beat the man to a pulp before throwing him out in the streets, and Morella never saw him again.

After that night, Morella wasn't allowed on the floor. She could help with the books in the office, or behind the bar itself only. Morella couldn't honestly say that she was upset with this decision--the incident had shaken her badly. She always knew that the men who would come in could be rough and rude, she'd had her own experiences and had listened to the girls complain. But this man was a dandy, a rich man from the West End. He had known her since she was a child, he had been such a regular figure in her life. Every man was regarded with suspicion, and distrust. She hated that she felt this way, but she couldn't help it.

Kept away from the more active part of the brothel, Morella spent more time devoted to her studies. Her mother hadn't wanted her to be a part of this world, and now she was beginning to agree. She took up sewing, embroidery. She spent a lot of free time reading novels and short stories. She was particularly fond of detective stories, and had daydreams in her head of becoming a detective herself. She wanted to become a respectable lady, untainted by the filth of the East End. But breaking away from the Jade House and her mother, Bettina, and the other girls was incredibly hard. She had grown up alongside them, they were her rock. She didn't want to leave her certain life for an uncertain future.

When she was eighteen, she was tending the bar and chatting with a Texan cowboy. He told her about the Birdcage Theater in Tombstone, Arizona, and how it was part theater and part brothel. That information lit a fire under Morella. She pored over their books, looking at their earnings. They certainly had enough to add a small theater onto the building. She began asking patrons if they would be interested in shows. There was enough interest to justify the cost--and Morella was excited. The past two years had been spent planning and renovating the building, and the theater has finally been added. By this point, Morella was completely managing the business end of the brothel, determined to make her project work.

Journal Entry: August 3rd, 1888

I had a strangely vivid dream last night, and even now, hours later, I can recall it with perfect clarity. I was on the new Jade Stage, surrounded by complete and utter darkness. There was not a sound, and the only reason I could tell where I was was two birds perched on a table, illuminated by stage lights. They were whispering something to me, something I couldn't understand until I was right next to them. Such strange birds they were, too; a two headed raven and a falcon wearing a helm.

Still a WIP but the rest would be about them telling Morella about her powers, and Auri's character appearing and when they touch each other they can hear each other's thoughts. The birds tell them to find each other IRL so their powers can grow stronger and Morella wakes up.

Whatever the dream was, it seems to have had some effect on my nerves. My head has been pounding all morning, as though I had had too much to drink the night before. There's also a strange tugging sensation, that seems to grow more and less taut by my moving around the house. A part of me laughs and wonders if I actually have to find that girl from my dream--but there's no way that can be the case, can it? It was just a dream, nothing more. Who even knows if she exists in the waking world.

Other:

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Hobbies and Interests:

• Detective Novels
• Theater
• Dancing

Relationships:

• Name: Description of relationship.

 

[Arai]

Despite the best efforts of the Empire, it's a large and uncharted world out there.

Nora Harrington

The Cartography Countess

DOB

32 (November 17th) 1855

Nationality

British

Blessing

Ghostly Lanterns

GENDER AND SEXUALITY

Female (She, Her), Bisexual

Apperance

A set of fine blue clothes and tightly wound hairstyle reveals Nora as a woman of efficiency, dressing and styling for her work, not for the pleasure of herself or others. With a tight bun of brown hair and a well kept outfit, Nora is the epitome of victorian civility and upper class. Dressed always for travel and action, her expression breaks most men under her suspicious and analytical gaze. Her skin is tanned, and her hair is just starting to grey, much to her irritation as she still considers herself "young enough". Attached to her hip by way of satchel is a revolver and a short blade, though she is loathe to carry either in the relativley civil streets of London, even in Whitechapel.

Personality

A woman of upper society, Nora is refined, stern, and polite to all that she meets. Her time abroad has left her with a caring streak however, and she revels in the worldviews and lifestyles of others, eager to learn about all she meets. Possessing a strong sense of duty, she struggles to be around those who float where the wind takes them, preferring a plan and strategy to abject wandering and chaos. Once she set her mind to it, her goals are her only focused, though this stubborness has proven problematic before.

Backstory

Born to Maria and Arthur Harrington, Nora spent her childhood in relative luxury, enjoying the life that her father's station afforded her, as a merchant of the West India Dock Company in London. With all of the tutors they could afford, she was surrounded in opportunities she didn't realize. Having come from nothing himself, Nora's father was a big beleiver in fighting for one's goals, a desire he instilled in his daughter as well. Of course this backfired when he ended up with a stubborn 5 year old who couldn't be dissuaded.

In her early teens, Nora insisted on joining her father on a trip to India, requesting to expand her worldview and see if she could find her place alongside him in the company potentially. Though some of his partners chuckled at the novelty of him bringing the girl, he obliged, forcing her to learn from royal sailors the skills to navigate, to be of some use aboard the ship. He did this with the intention of showing the men that she was not a hinderance on thier journey, but an asset they could utilize. As time on the voyage passed, she added astral navigation and map reading to her skills, as well as a rudimentary understanding of ship roles and mechanics.

Arriving in India, she accompanied her father in land to an in progress trainline, one that would cut travel time to china by weeks upon it's completion. During the time, heavy rains and mudslides left her seperated from her father, as the mountainside collapsed and left her lost and alone. With some amount of fear but desire to prove herself, Clambering to a height, she created her first rudimentary map, using her naval knowledge and the landmarks she recongised to create a basic chart of the lands they had been walking. Using it and her own capabilities, she made her way back to camp alone, much to the surprise of the few who weren't out looking for the girl.

While waiting, she sat with some of their party's guides, who were impressed by the map she had created. They explained to her that the maps many of the inland villages had were rudimentary, if any, and the changing landscape made cartography difficult. By the time her father returned, she was discussing scales, supply of paper and where to best get information. It quickly became apparent that she had an eye for navigation and distances, and could accuratley chart regions quickly, something the her Father had both great pride in and saw great profit in.

With an investment to get her started, Nora set up her first office outside of London in Southhampton, working alongside an existing mapmaking company. Here, Nora worked to create maps of several different areas around the world of complex and difficult terrain, specialising in traversing and catalouging the more inhospitable places of the planet. Her work came with lessons, as did any task, and she started carrying a gun and knife some time into her explorations. As the years progressed, she refused to slow down, happy to throw herself into her work and enjoying it greatly. Her most recent task has invlved charting some of the central Australian territory, and she has been comfrtably writing up her notes and sketches into publishable versions when a strange calling draws her back to London.

Journal Entry

August 3rd.

Despite work undertaken the prior day, I found sleep difficult to attain, especially after my hand pens these words, my body still trembling as images of a nightmare haunt my waking mind. As an explorer of the uncharted, I am all but too accustomed to navigating the unknown. But this nightmare was unlike any I had experienced prior.

The dream began innocuosly enough, I was continuing an excursion I had previously undertaken into India, though the lands I traversed were shrouded in a heavy dark mist, obscuring my vision and filling me with a sense of foreboding. Every step I took felt heavy, as though an invisible force sought to keep me tethered to the very ground beneath me. I was not alone in this nocturnal reveries however.

Accompanying me on this extraordinary journey were two remarkable creatures, each bearing an otherworldly presence. A magnificent two-headed raven soared overhead, its feathers glistening with deep black hues. It watched over me, its twin sets of eyes penetrating the darkness, guiding me towards an unknown destination with an otherworldly wisdom. And perched upon my shoulder was a falcon donning the helmet of a centurion, its piercing gaze filled with ancient knowledge. Together, they formed a mystical alliance, and I found their presence both comforting and unnerving.

As I traversed the ethereal landscape, the raven sherherded ghostly lights to my fingertips, their luminescence casting an ethereal glow upon the hidden corners of this fantastical realm. Guided by the falcon on my shoulder, my guides showed me how the lights could swirl and dance, illuminating the path before me and revealing the secrets that lay concealed, following my direction.

Venturing deeper into this realm of dreams, I encountered strange apparitions and ethereal beings. Wisps of shimmering light flitted among the trees, their delicate forms twinkling like stars in the night sky. These spectral entities seemed to acknowledge my presence, their ethereal whispers carrying secrets I wished I understoof. Mention of "Jack", though I know not such a gentleman. As I lit the way forward with the lights, I found myself overlooking the Thames, which even without great geographical knowledge one should know is not a short walk from the colonies. My companions abandoned me, flying towards Whitechapel, and I awoke in a sweat.

Now, as I pen down this extraordinary dream, I am filled with a renewed sense of purpose. The boundaries of my pursuits have expanded beyond the mundane, embracing the realm of dreams and the unknown. The dream has granted me a glimpse into the fantastical possibilities that lie beyond the edges of our maps, reminding me that exploration goes far beyond the physical realm. And yet my soul bids me return to London, to my home, for reasons as of yet unknown to me.

Yours in wonder and anticipation,

Nora

 

[diogenesUnchained]

Name: Enzo Ross

DOB: July 3rd, 1854

Nationality: American

Appearance:

Enzo stands at roughly 6'2", but remains surprisingly stealthy for his size. He's equipped with his gator skin coat, some rope, cover scent oil, and rations, making him excellently equipped for hunting in the Bayou. The most useful thing he has in London is his sawed off double barreled shotgun, a tool that he mostly only used when hunting his fellow man. This, and a note written about a dream, is about all he could bring across with him, but if there's one thing Enzo is, it's resourceful.

Blessing: Now You See Me: If no light is cast upon you, you can become invisible. However, you are revealed partially by matches, or completely by lantern light. Moonlight does not apply here.

Personality:
Enzo Ross is a very direct and blunt person, usually getting right to the point. He's only human though, sometimes allowing his pride of his knowledge and skill to get in the way and cause him to run his mouth just a bit too much. His identity as a hunter is the main source of this pride, and rightfully so. As someone who has spent all of his life in the bayou, Enzo is very in touch with nature, and understands on a basic level the spiritual makeup of the world because of it. He heeds omens and other signs well, knowing how important they can be to survival as well as spiritual health.
Backstory:
Enzo was born in an a small bayou settlement in Louisiana in 1854 to two parents he never knew. He was raised by his community, a backwater group of fishermen in tall standing swamp houses, living simply, harshly, and in harmony with the bayou around them. They taught him to survive in such a harsh environment, the principal method of this survival being how to hunt and fish. Enzo lived this way for a long time, about 19 years of his life to be exact. He was raised in a communal environment, taught to put the good of the group above all else. It was after this group was expunged from the face of those swamps that he put those principles behind him.

A large iron mine and forge was being planned right on top of their little swamp village. Civilization snuck up on them when they least expected it. After refusing the buyout for the land, the owner of Moses Ironworks hired private military to clear out the members of their quiet little unnamed settlement. Enzo, just a kid of 19, crawled out of the burning wreckage of his adoptive family's home, barely making it out into that marshy night.

Enzo slowly gathered himself from here, spending these first years after just barely scraping by, being forced not just to hunt, but to steal in order to survive. It was a tough time for Enzo, having been thrown into the deep end, forced to put all he's learned into practice all at once. There wasn't a small amount of blood on young Enzo's hands by the end of this 3 year stretch, before he settled into his own. He slowly got better and better, becoming one with his environment in a way that the relative comfort of the settlement could not provide him. He began specializing in hunting gators, finding them not only especially delicious, but also providing him with a bit of cash for supplies in their skins. As much as Enzo wanted to shut out civilization entirely, when he hunted with guns and found winters scarce in food, sometimes he needed to travel to the nearby town to pick up supplies, and often a book or two to keep himself busy and teach himself to read from. Ironically, it was the same town born of the iron mine that took over his settlement.

This was the way he lived for a long time, for the next 15 years of his life. Every once in a while he'd be forced to move again as civilization caught up with him. More poultry farms, more big fisheries, more towns. All pushing him further and further into the bayou. Soon enough, rumors began to spread about the Gator man in the swamp, and he was feared by the towns he depended on for supplies. It made things far more difficult for him, since hunting gators with a handcrafted spear and rope by himself was a far more dangerous task than what he normally undertook. By winter of 1888 Enzo became desperate, and slipped back into the robbing days of his youth, where he found much less clemency for in such a now civilized environment. He was on the run properly now, from the law, and it was in late spring that he was contacted via a messenger he almost shot.

The letter he was given (with the messenger there in case he was illiterate), told him about the services of the ruthless Bayou Gator Man being requested in the hunt for some creature or person or something loose in London. They weren't quite sure what it was but knew that Enzo might be a good fit for the team they were putting together to deal with whatever it was, despite his "eccentricities" as the letter put it. For his cooperation they promised private travel to London from New Orleans, and after the investigation is tied up, a protected chunk of land in the swamp that would remain untouched on top of a federal pardon. The messenger in front of him couldn't see it, but he raised his eyebrows at this. It was a tempting offer that he dismissed as too good to be true. It wasn't until 3 weeks after his 34th birthday that he was finally desperate enough to accept.

Backed into a corner by the law at last, Enzo made his way into New Orleans with his gator coat stuffed into a bag, blending in with the every day citizens of the city. He went to the port, showed the letter, and was on a fancy looking private vessel by the end of the day. As soon as they were out to sea he returned to the safety of his scales, dreading to enter one of the largest cities in the world, but motivated by the promise of real freedom, so close at hand. It would be August 5th when they arrived, according to the captain of the small ship. He just hoped this strange benefactor would deliver on their promise, and said benefactor should certainly hope the same.

Journal Entry:

Had a dream last night, and I must write it down in case I forget. It was no doubt both an omen and a blessing. The dream started on a mud trail in the bayou at night, like many of my homesick dreams do these days. This one was different though. A raven watched me from the trees with all four of its eyes, for it had two heads. I did not have time to ponder this unusual sign, as he cawed and flew away, alerting me to a presence behind me I did not notice before. I spun around to see a panther, far away from home, but an animal I had encountered before. By all rights it should have ripped my throat out then and there. Yet it merely stared at me. Rather it stared through me as if I was not there at all, just looking curiously at the raven that had just flown away. I looked at myself and it was as if I were made of shimmering air, which I assumed the cat could not even see.

As I was slowly backing away from it, a falcon wearing a helmet of old Rome swooped down with a match in hand, lighting it on a rock and dropping it in front of me. As soon as the tiny fire burned at my feet, the panther's eyes narrowed and it pounced at me with a scream. I barely managed to roll out of the way. The match was snuffed out by the splash of mud at the big cat's landing. It looked around confused, as if I had disappeared right in front of it. A few seconds later it disappeared into the brush. Lighting a match of my own I looked down at myself to find I now looked almost like water, the shimmering air now merely in waves moving across me. I decided to set up camp nearby to comprehend what I had not yet realized was a dream. In the campfire I now looked down and saw myself fully, yet did not see the panther breathing down my neck yet again. It was then I woke in a sweat.

This was more than just an omen. This state extends to beyond that prophetic realm of dreams. I looked down at myself in the dark room I was holed up in for the journey, and saw the same shimmering air. I left the room, out into the lower deck, and watched as a crew member walked straight toward me. He was liable to walk right into me had I not stepped aside. It was not so dark as to not be able to see a man as tall as me not two feet in front of oneself. When I followed behind him into the daylight above I gave him a scare. He remarked it was as if I appeared out of thin air. Now I see that the task I have decided to set out on is ordained by a power higher than myself. God, spirits, fairies, what have you. Something has blessed me in this hunt, which shows to be of more importance than some animal or man let loose in that city. I will find out in 2 days. I set off with great trepidation and excitement. This is shaping up to be my greatest hunt yet.

 

[Paperface]

David A. Martin
D.O.B. October 11th, 1868
English Nationality

Regarding Mr. Martin;

The boy is named David Arthur Martin. He is one of our Junior Detectives at the CID of the Metropolitan Police. The boy should be easily recognizable upon his arrival. He is well-dressed with pale blue eyes and brown hair that urgently needs a barber. We assure you we have addressed the matter. Given it reflects poorly on our department. However, for the time being, it remains an ongoing situation. Regardless, there will be no need to address this during the current investigation. As we all know, there are more important matters to resolve.


Personality; David is a high-achieving and resourceful person, but scarcely for his benefit. Mostly everything he has strived for has been to win over the approval of his father - which he values above all else, despite holding a grudge against the man. Although, this family drama would not be noticeable upon meeting him. David presents himself amicably among the public. As a public servant, he represents a sense of justice and fairness. Something David believes is sorely lacking within the governing body and the church he is supposed to be faithful to. However, he prefers to keep those opinions to himself and stays away from the center of attention whenever possible. Still, his overall kind presence is enough to garner goodwill and positive impressions. As such, many find him easy to befriend; and he appears to be. Perhaps his personal beliefs are something to be wary of, though.

Blessing – One Life; Once per person, you can choose to undo an otherwise fatal wound. So long as the person has not yet died.


Backstory; W.I.P


August 3rd, 1888
Journal Entry

Dear Evelyn,

Although the likelihood of you ever reading my journal is slim to none, I feel comforted by the thought of sharing this with you in spirit. In truth, it may even be for the best that you never read these words. You might find I have lost my wits.

Last night I experienced a dream that both intrigues and concerns me. One that has thus far stayed with me so vividly that I wonder if I am to act upon it. Please, allow me to explain.

Within this dream, I found myself standing on a city street. I presume it was London, but I can not be sure. The sky above appeared strangely clear, while my surroundings felt darkened by an overcast that was not present. I recall wandering the empty street until I found a badly injured man on the pavement. I will spare you the details regarding his injuries. While this man struggled to live, two deformed birds appeared before him. One bird had two heads, and one wore a helmet.

It felt as though they spoke English, yet my instinct told me to shield this man from their presence. And so I did. As it happened, my hand landed upon his wounds. Then, I felt something odd. I can only describe it as a bittersweet sensation. I could feel the painful overtones of his injuries. I could feel the relief as said injuries closed up as if by divine intervention. He still did not appear in perfect health, but his deeper wounds had disappeared in mere moments. A voice claimed I may very well have saved his life. Before I could reply, I awoke in my bed.

I must admit a significant part of me wonders if this dream is worth pursuing. It could save countless people if found to be true. However, as you must realize, the conditions for testing the validity are not easily recreated in the waking world. Do I await the chance that I may cross paths with somebody critically injured, or do I take more drastic measures?

The thought terrifies me greatly...

---