Fantasy FROZENSTEAM CS

[idalie]

CHARACTER SHEETS
​

[Appearance]

Name:

Nickname(s):

Age:

Nationality:

Gender:
[All are welcome but please consider taboos and 'Victorian' mentality!]

Sexuality:
[All are welcome but please consider taboos and 'Victorian' mentality!]

Occupation:

Spoiler: Available Occupations

Nurse/Doctor [Trained medically and can successfully heal the wounded or ill in most situations. Disadvantaged in combat.]
Labourer [These men and women are tough to cold and are often strong in arm, making hypothermia less effective. Disadvantaged in basic intelligence such as reading and writing.]
Engineer [Can fix and dismantle any steam technology; new engines need to be studied before taken apart. Disadvantaged in colder conditions due to being in workshop warmth and dealing with engines.]
Scientist [Specializes in one area although can often branch off. Scientists are most used to study meteorological conditions and thus can give the group a 5 hour warning to changing conditions. Scientists can also decipher notes left by other scientists in research stations. Disadvantaged in strength.]
Hunter [Hunters are adept at gathering food and handling the arctic wildlife, as well as having combat and trapping skills. They can track humans and prey alike with ease, being hardy in terms of endurance. Disadvantaged in open environments and more susceptible to injury.]
Scout [Scouts can go long distance in minus temperatures, being survivalists first and thus having them with groups increases the chances of finding shelter and useful supplies. Disadvantaged in close combat.]
Apprentice [Under 18s only. They can be apprenticed to any occupation listed above. Children must be accompanied by an adult character.]

Equipment:
[Depending on occupation and character]

Weapon(s):
[Firearms are reserved specifically for scouts and hunters who can only have one rifle, and one sidearm.]

Personality:
[1 paragraph. Please include weaknesses and strengths, 3 of each at a minimum.]

Backstory:
[2 paragraphs. Remember, you are currently a New London refugee -- how did you arrive here?]

Other:
[Anything I missed?]

[You may make up to 2 characters]​

 

[idalie]

6'0" // 190 lbs

Name:
Captain Edward Kingsley

Nickname(s):
Captain, King.

Age:
41

Nationality:
British

Gender:
Male

Sexuality:
Heterosexual

Occupation:
Engineer

Equipment:
- Basic toolkit
- Hooded lantern & 3 pints of oil
- Waterproof matches
- Arctic tent and fur bedroll
- Wooden sledge
- Trail rations for 7 days
- Fully padded arctic coat, trousers, shaded goggles and snow boots

Weapon(s):
- Naval Captain sabre

Personality:
Tough-loving sea-faring captain who has seen his fair share of war. Although Edward can appear stern and cold on the outward appearance, all the captain wants is to aid others and help push on through troubling times; dedicating himself to Queen and country. A God-fearing, upstanding man such as he looks at the future with a tenacious, bold hope. Even when the situation is lost, he will do his utmost to rectify it or die trying. The stubbornness Edward exudes may one day get him killed but so far his undying loyalty and faith have only served to inspire others and uplift spirits in this new, harsh world. Nevertheless, due to his time in the military, the Captain might seem a tad controlling when it comes to leadership roles as well as micro-managing tasks which he might believe to be done 'wrong' -- also carrying a sense of double checking for caution and triple checking for luck (Which has saved him on few occasions). Besides this the Captain is easy to rise when it comes to temper and will be brutal when decisions have to be made. This apathetic detachment can be attributed to the fact he was both a member of the armed forces and the current hostile climate.

Backstory:
Kingsley was born 1845, beside the shipyards of East London. The son of a socialite and a merchant, Edward found himself more often than not playing out on the cobblestones as a child kicking footballs made of rags; yet at the age of 11 or so, he became mesmerised by the nearby Naval battleships and the sailors who would anchor up. He joined the navy at 16, lying about his age and signing up for a life of adventure which would cross the Empire from India to Africa, and the islands of the Carribean. His sense of discovery wasn't lost on any isle no matter how big nor small. Catching a range of fevers and diseases, surviving the aggressive native populations and battling through months aboard the same boat constantly rocking; he built up a commendable strength of body and mind. They chased pirates, slave ships, and upheld the naval laws -- granting them women, pay, and good drink.

Edward was promoted rank by rank, building his ambitions higher than a simple son of a cotton salesman from base Engineer to Captain. He was First Mate of the HMS Lightning Dreadnought when the quakes hit, bringing with them darkened skies and lungfuls of ash. At first there was nothing, but soon it began to get colder. Cold enough it seeped into your bones and made you wish for a Sahara summer. Soon enough the panic began to spread, London froze, ships had to be broken from the ice and the government put the plans for a last hope into action. The HMS Lightning was chosen to be an expedition boat, protecting a cargo of generators, coal, food, and settlers who would colonise this outpost; 'New London'.

The Dreadnought crashed through frozen seas, occasionally having to blow the ice apart to make it through. But soon, even the cold got them. They were stuck in the Norwegian seas, encased in solid ocean waves, now stiff snowy peaks. They started up the steam engines and rolled out with the help of automatons, bringing with them what they could. The Captain of the HMS Lightning died on the journey, which caused the morbid joke of giving Edward the title 'Captain' as some form of promotion. They built the city from the ground upward, years spent in the making, a life achieved through purpose and survival. Community was built.

It all began with a storm that signified their downfall. Temperatures dropped to -100 and food stocks grew lower, the coal mines shut from the temperatures, and even then the generators were fighting to keep alight. When the storm had passed, hysteria grasped the cold, starving populous. They fed on the corpses of the fallen, rioted, and took the generator by force even as Edward tried to dissuade them. He managed to get further out so that when the generator went up in flames -- it didn't take him with it. Ironic how in the age of ice, they had died by fire. In the city's outer-ring, he hopes to find survivors to help make the trip back to London -- or that of some other safety.

Other:

***

5'8" // 145 lbs

Name:
Victoria Aziza Kinyanjui

Nickname(s):
Tori

Age:
24

Nationality:
British

Gender:
Female

Sexuality:
Heterosexual

Occupation:
Scout

Equipment:
- 2 icepicks
- 50 ft Hemp rope
- Arctic tent & fur bedroll
- Flint and steel
- Tinderboxes
- Trail rations for 14 days
- 15 rounds of ammo left
- Fully padded arctic coat, trousers, shaded goggles and skis

Weapon(s):
- Martini-Henry Mk IV rifle
- Basic hunting knife

Personality:
Victoria is a determined soul, trying her best to prove herself useful as a woman and more so as a disadvantaged daughter of an immigrant steelworker. Brought up in the worst areas of industrial London, namely Whitechapel, Tori grew a thick skin to seeing things such as extreme poverty and the disturbing catcalls of old lecherous men who sat gambling in small alleyways waiting to cop a feel through the smog. Nevertheless, considering her surroundings she grew to be a kind young woman but streetwise and hardly naive. It affected her in the ways that count though, not being too overly embracing of her feminity to show men what she can do and to avoid being objectified or otherwise distracting from her self-imposed mission. Not much of a daydreamer but rather the sort to buckle down and ride out the storm being constantly on the edge. Her freedom as a scout is what makes her happiest in this icy world which was left behind for the next generations of man. Victoria has always been optimistic that humanity would survive, alas, since the fall of New London she's come to doubt in her faith and that of the future.

Backstory:
Victoria was born in Whitechapel, the daughter of two Kenyan immigrants. Her mother was a washerwoman, her father a steelworker. Victoria was named as such to help her fit in better to the culture and climate of Britain, both her parents being stout believers in the royal crown. She was, however, given Aziza as a middle name to pay homage to her grandmother. Classified as a British citizen after being born on English soil, Tori never looked back nor saw herself as anything less than the heart and soul of the Empire. Going to Sunday school at their local Church she was taught to read and write at a basic level before becoming a factory worker to aid her income.

Fighting to be kept from married off, 20 years old and untouched, the troubles began. Skies darkening, cold nipping, flesh freezing. Her father was chosen through a raffle contest of labourers to see who would board the HMS Lightning which took the first expedition to Norway to set up New London. Her father brought both wife and child with him, knowing it would be their best chance. When they reached New London in 1885, her father grew sick and feeble. To help bring in extra food rations, she joined the scouting teams and quickly got the hang of arctic exploration and survival helping build the city further with the discovery of settlements and possible outposts.

When the generators exploded, she was out on a scouting mission; now returning to the carnage a few days late. Her family were housed nearer the generator and have been assumed deceased. Victoria, still in mourning, wishes to join with another refugee group rather than stick it alone as she has been doing. The sudden need for human comfort and socialising is evidently her way of making it feel safer. Thus, she extends her help willingly.

Other:
​

 

[NyxDarling]

[Appearance]


Name:Lucard Eviun

Nickname(s):Luck

Age:62

Nationality: German

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Occupation: Scientist

Equipment:
Lucard is equipped with a finely weaved wool suit. This is designed to keep in all the heat in cold weathers. As well as a seal skin jacket, with wool lacing the inside. A Steam-powered backpack, which produces heat around a five-foot radius. Enough to keep fingers warm and hearts beating. He also has a mini-lab in this backpack. just in case, a field journal, and his personal journal. Oh, and his trusty pipe.

Weapon(s):
Steam-powered Brass knuckles, pocket knife.

Personality:
Alucard is very witty, bold and frank. He doesn't sidestep or soften his words for anything. if you want the truth, just come to him. Although he has trouble with not boasting his intelligence, and he's a clumsy mother fucker on top of all of that. Slightly OCD. A weak case of chronic asthma keeps Lucard out of the battle most of the time. Besides all this, you'll always find him smiling if he's studying or trying to figure out new technologies to invent. Or ways just to make life more livable overall.

Backstory:
Lucard had been in Germany for most of his life, grew up there. Got married, and had a child with a young lass. But When the ice age hit, everything was flipped upside down. Everything changed within the span of months. His wife died of an unknown illness after she gave birth to their daughter Dilila. Alone a single father in a world that was ever so rapidly changing, Alucard had to learn a whole nee set of ability's and character traits to keep him and his child alive.

During his travels, he came across a settlement that was preparing to go an expedition to new London. At first they weren't really accepted into anything the small settlement was doing. But after Lucard saved one of the parent's children from a coyote, the people of the settlement willing accepted them into their number's . A couple months passed and he was given the chance to be a part of a expedition to New London. This opportunity could ensure his daughter a safe life. so he took it, with his daughter still no older than 3 at the time, he helped traverse to New London. All...for it to fall, before his daughter's eyes even.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Appearance]

Name: Dalilia Eviun

Nickname(s): Dali

Age: 17

Nationality: German

Gender: Female


Sexuality: Straight


Occupation: Apprentice(hunter)

Equipment: winter jacket and overcoat made with dense wool and seal skin. Winter pant's made of seal skin. And wool in between. Hunter's belt" A belt to help carry all assortments of hunter related items. Winter gloves and boots. Made of seal skin as well.

Weapon(s):
Regalia's sidearm; its an ancient strampunk model. The bullets can be hyper charged and are basically molten when shot out. But keep their form and speed. ((May add on to this if allowed)

Personality: Calm and reserved, she was raised to be quite to listen to everyone before speaking. communication could mean the difference between life and death. She's very subtle in the way she acts. Everything she does has a reason to it. Even the smallest of shifts in her stance. She was born with a weak form of pschizophrenia. Which ultimatley makes her even more isolated. But helps her out with aiming and sensing the things around her. Like a hyper sense. She can be crass as all hell and seemingly rude. But thats because she has trouble connecting with emotions. And people in general.

Backstory: Dali was born and raised on the move. Her mother died while she was only 2 years old, leaving her with only a father to raise her. Lucard being a scientist and all, she wasnt taught to heavily on emotions. mainly the alkalinity to certain types of waters and why this star is white and that one is blue. At a young age she picked up the hobby of using a sling shot to shoot stuff, and she picked up the ability to sharp shoot with it rsther quickly. At the age of 16, she had been out tracking and had come across a sunken chest in frozen water. This chest had a lock like no other, but not being dettered she scowered the area and found the dead body of a captian. Plucked the key from him and opened the chest. Inside was a couple bottles of ale, and the Regalia. A side arm unlike any other she had ever seen... A note was beside it, describing how it was to be used. And how it would do more and more unique things as she used it. What those things were. wasnt really described in the note. But ultimatley, she grew up in constant change. Seeing her father help build a city was surely a sight. But, ultimatley. There was never anything big. Just a constant struggle to survive.

 

[nighttimecatplayer]

Name:

Gazelle Ilta Nishant.

Nickname(s):

Night, Midnight.

Age:

21.

Height:

5'7'.

Weight:

145 lbs.

Nationality:

American.

Gender:

Female.

Sexuality:

Heterosexual.

Occupation:

Hunter.

Equipment:

Small first Aid Kit for basic injuries.

Additional rucksack for gathering food.

Food rations that would be enough to last a couple of days out in the arctic.

A mysterious waterskin with unknown contents.

Flare gun with three rounds of ammunition.

Two steam powered bear traps large enough to entrap most basic animals.

Three once time use smoke traps that can blind and disorient both animals and humans alike, and provide for a quick getaway or a stealthy kill.

Dynamo torch that can produce light in short bursts within a small radius.

Flintlock lighter that requires gunpowder to operate.

Seven rounds of rifle ammunition to use only in emergency cases.

Thirteen arrow rounds that can be recovered and reused if not broken.

Durable leather cloak that provides slight protection against animal attacks. Also fashioned a wolf pelt overtime that is worn over the cloak, and has been modified to resist against the cold.

Weapon(s):

FR F1 bolt class action sniper rifle.

Hand crafted longbow made with a wooden finish.

A traditional Misericorde dagger made to slice open meals, and provide for a short form of defense when all other ammunition has been exhausted.

Personality:

Although she was never the most talented of children, Gazelle always had a big heart and was constantly bubbling with passion and determination. After the new ice age had swept over the nation though, she was forced to adapt and her normally bright and happy demeanor soon diminished along with her hopes and dreams. Now battle hardened after being faced with several traumatic experiences, the young hunter grew distant from the outside world and everyone else in it. One of the most horrid experiences for the young hunter though was when she had to give up her everlasting love for animals, and murder those that she vowed she would never have to harm. Desperation kicked in shortly after and Gazelle was no longer living her life, but instead was just simply surviving with no ultimate end goal in mind. There's now nothing that Night wouldn't do to survive, and she doesn't have any problems with taking you out if you pose as a threat. Rumors also have it that she lost her voice a long time ago along with her dying passion, and she hasn't spoken a single word since.

Backstory:

Gazelle was raised in the harsh conditions of Alaska as an only child while her parents had spent most of their lifetime being enrolled within the force. Much to her demise though, being enrolled into the military also meant that her parents were never around much, and Gazelle was left alone to fend for herself while her parents struggled to bring in the basic income that they needed to survive. However, despite all of the constant challenges, she had made several friends over the years and was eventually dubbed the newly founded nickname "Night" for her constant love and preference for the darker things. As she grew with age and experience, Gazelle had soon come to learn that she held a strong passion for animals, and could often be found in the woods befriending the local wildlife.

A few years later Night was presented with the news that her parents were retiring after being severely injured on the field, and although she was excited for their return it was clear that things were not the same as they once were. Gazelle grew distant from her parents, and it wasn't long after that the tension started to rise and fights began to break out. Several times over the years her father had tried to convince the poor girl to follow in his footsteps, and even tried to force his own into hunting despite knowing about her deep love for animals. Gazelle had considered running away until she was brought with the sudden news that she was going to be a big sister, and instead made the decision to stay and help raise the sibling that she never had while growing up.

It wasn't much longer until the earthquakes had swept the nation, and with the quakes came the downfall of several world renown locations including the statue of liberty itself. While the United States was trying to recover from the aftermath, the weather became increasingly harsh and it only took a few days for a massive snowstorm to overtake the country and plummet everything into a snow white wonderland. As the temperatures began to drop life started to become unsustainable, and the government issued an evacuation to other countries where the American dream would still have a chance to survive. Although Gazelle was naturally used to the cold due to spending all of her lifetime within a frozen wasteland, even her stubbornness was no match for this geological storm that was taking the world by surprise and forcing everyone to change their sudden lives.

Word had eventually started to get around about an effort group in London that was trying to help sustain the human race, and it wasn't much longer until Gazelle and her parents had decided that there was nothing left for them in Alaska as they set out onto their own into uncharted lands. Thankfully, several others all had the same idea and decided to help out the small family of four on their travels as they braved the cold weather. Although their methods of transportation were slow, the Nishant family was successfully making their way over towards the "New London" that was progressively being built. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end one way or another, and hopes started to deplete as Gazelle noticed that her parents were slowly becoming ill and they had no means of curing them from their unknown illness.

Despite their group efforts to care for the two adults, nothing could be done as hypothermia overtook the two and both parents gradually passed away a few months later leaving both of their children behind. Gazelle was left to take care of her little brother, and had sworn to protect him no matter what obstacles that they may come to face. Night had even sacrificed her old life for her little sibling, and took up hunting to provide for the two of them even if she hated the very thought of it with a burning passion. When things had started to finally look up for the two however, the very same mysterious illness that had plagued their parents swept over Gazelle too, and left both of them vulnerable since she was unable to fend for themselves.

It was that one fateful night when Gazelle starting hallucinating from the illness that she could no longer move, and although her brother was still learning he had tried to care for his sister as best he could as he dragged her the entire way and took shelter within a small cave. When Gazelle had successfully fought against the illness and awoke from her coma induced like state, she was surprised that she was even awake at all. However, Gazelle immediately noticed that something was missing when she wasn't greeted by the relieved cries of her brother. Instead, she was greeted with a hallow wind that blew through their temporary makeshift home. In his place was a thick coat of crimson blood that trailed across the ground of the wet damp cave, and led outside into the white wilderness coating the ground with a freshly new painted red.

Naturally, Gazelle immediately grabbed her weapons and began the search for the only remaining family that she had left. However, after hours of tracking the trail and searching along nothing ever came up and the poor soul was left crushed as her only remaining reason for living was now gone. Night was quick to grow distant from the rest of the world, and soon became unreadable and turned cold and harsh towards those who came begging for their lives. Without a will to live and no other destination in store, the now shattered female had set off towards New London with the hopes that she would at least be able to make something of herself and honor the fallen that had tried but never successfully made it despite their greatest attempts at survival.

Although she was accepted as a refugee into the walls of New London, nothing was ever going to fix the gaping hole that had plagued her heart as she was aimlessly living her life and repeating the same single routine every single day hunting for supplies. That all changed one day though for Gazelle as the generators that provided them with simple heat and power had erupted into flames, and everything that they had worked so hard towards simply burned down to the ground in a pile of forgotten molten ash. Night had seemingly suffered a mental relapse after losing everything for a second time, and set out into the great unknown with crazed intentions and the faintest idea that her brother might have still been alive out there somewhere despite the answer that she already knew so very well.

Relationships:

(I'll update these accordingly as my character runs into everyone else) ​

​

 

[monochromegalaxy]

Name:
Maymie Eve Wilhelmine Vogel

Nickname(s)/Alias:
May | Eve | Doctor | Birdie | Wilhelm Stein

Age:
33

Nationality:
British and German

Gender:
Female

Sexuality:
Heterosexual

Occupation:
(Unlicensed) Doctor

Equipment:
• Heavy arctic parka, trousers, shaded goggles, mittens, scarf, and snow boots
• Basic medical kit
• A mini apothecary's cabinet, a decent-sized vacuum case full with the essential items of an apothecary
• A few surgical tools (the most used tools)
• A journal containing a compilation of research papers
• A pair of hiking sticks
• Multiple vacuum flasks for various uses
• Fur bedroll and small arctic tent

Weapon(s):
• Bone saw..?
• Uh, a cocktail of expired medicines and plant extracts..? Haha she's dead meat.

Personality:
Maymie is often described by fellow colleagues as studious and overly serious, not understanding most jokes and is rarely flustered by them. She takes everything seriously and obeys instructions given by superiors to the dot without question with strong belief in their decisions. Maymie's humble attitude is more akin to a sense of inferiority, not believing in her abilities unless told by someone who was qualified to do so and provided proof of sorts. While she does seem humourless and rarely laughs, she can make witty quips from time to time, mostly by accident, however. The doctor dislikes any form of sugarcoating and is rarely tactful with her remarks, making conversation a little awkward, but means well. Maymie manages pressure well and is calm especially when in the middle of tending to a patient, but can be emotional from time to time depending on a situation, usually if it’s unfammiliar territory.

Backstory:
Maymie was born to a couple of aristocrats in London, the mother being from a notable family and her father a renowned pioneer in the science world, aiding in scientific breakthroughs related to medicine. The arranged marriage grew rocky after the death of Maymie's younger brother, the mother eventually leaving under the cover of night far away.

Maymie grew up surrounded by anatomy books, research papers, experimentations, and plenty of blood. You see, while her father was a driven man who wishes for the improvement of health, he can go overboard. He would kidnap homeless folk off the streets of London and perform his experiments on them which did provide results, but gave Maymie discomfort throughout her childhood. She adored medicine and didn't wish to harm people. Maymie started her journey by studying with a local apothecary, learning basic and primitive treatments on minor injuries, learning each property of each item of an apothecary's cabinet. She then aimed for bigger prey, disguising as a boy to work as a doctor's assistant, doing menial tasks whilst studying the doctor's practices and nicking books from his office. Maymie, using the name 'Wilhelm Stein', only rose from there, eventually getting into a prestigious school after severing ties with her deranged father. However, her expectations were too high.

The things they taught, like Greek and Latin and other unrelated subjects, would make Maymie think twice about her decision to study at the college. Medical procedure demonstrations in the lecture halls will bring a fleeting fascination to Maymie, soon replaced with disappointment when she actually never got a chance to perform a procedure at all. Still, she studied on, soon catching the attention of one of the lecturers and was chosen as his apprentice. After that, the earthquakes and the cold hit. Many students and lecturers of the college passed away from the cold. Maymie was struck with some major fevers but managed to pull through thanks to her skills and mentor.

Since doctors are scarce as they are and very much needed in New London, Maymie's mentor and a few of his colleagues, a physician, psychiatrist, and surgeon, were sent to the HMS Lightning, Maymie tagging along as there aren't any other students left to be taught the vital knowledge her mentor and his colleagues knew. Old age was not forgiving to the doctors. During the journey to the New London outpost, two of the doctors died. Before they did, they gave as much knowledge as the could to whomever was willing to learn, especially the studious Maymie. Maymie never got the formal license to work on patients without her mentor's supervision, but he gave her his word she would've gotten it by now, which she doubts as she never really did a surgical procedure. He passed away soon after New London was completed, remembering her as his favourite student, Wilhelm Stein.

Maymie was a safe distance away from the destruction of the generators, tending to a casualty of the riots when it happened. Devastated and in panic after witnessing a large-scale disaster before her eyes for the second time, Maymie broke down right there and then, alone as the casualty passed beside her.

Other:
Most are aware of Dr. Hall (Maymie's mentor) having an apprentice named Wilhelm Stein; who most would call a 'pretty boy'. Maymie is unsure whether or not to keep under the cover of her facade or not. It's up to the players if they'll see through her disguise or not, pretty much.

Ignore the colourful patterns and stuff haha. Couldn't find the right image soo...

Spoiler: Other images close enough to what I image

 

[Candlebell]

Name:

Elizabeth Cathcart (nee Napier)

Nickname(s):

Liz, Lizzie

Age:

27

Nationality:

British

Gender:

Female

Sexuality:

Heterosexual

Occupation:

Scientist – Astronomy and Physics

Equipment:

-A heavy fur-lined coat, oilskin trousers, snow goggles, gloves, scarf, snow boots
-5 days of trail rations
-A small collection of chemicals, enough to make simple explosives or start a fire quickly
-A book on weather patterns of Norway 15 years out of date
-A bedroll and arctic tent
-A small collapsable telescope


Weapon(s):

A bayonet, taken from her husband’s rifle.

Personality:
Elizabeth is an inquisitive young woman from a privileged background, who is finding it harder and harder to maintain her once optimistic attitude as she becomes more and more isolated from those she once knew. Despite growing up as a member of the prestigious Napier family, her behaviour was not always entirely ladylike. Her desire to always know the ‘why’ behind things had frustrated more than a few governesses to hand in their notice. It wasn’t that she scorned polite society behaviour or etiquette, she had simply learned all she felt she need to on the topic and moved on to another topic of study. This constant flitting from topic to topic instilled a kind of wanderlust in Elizabeth which left her flighty with difficulties focusing on anything for an extended period of time. Growing up a child of privilege, she always found is easy to indulge in acts of charity. This has earned her a kind attitude and generous reputation, though this still unbroken habit sometimes finds her giving more than she can afford in these tough times.

Backstory:
Elizabeth had grown up on the family estate in East Anglia, with never a want nor care beyond repeated scoldings from her mother to behave more demurely and proper. The extended Napier family had a long history in the armed forces and her father was no exception, often away on expedition for long years serving as a Major in the Army. Which wasn’t to say he was estranged in any way, a constant flow of letters between father and daughter and husband and wife was the only thing that kept peace in the household as he practiced postal diplomacy between the two.

The Major finally yielded to the inevitable, if his daughter was going to be a scandal on the Napier name then at least she would be a well-educated scandal. It wouldn’t be until years later that Elizabeth would learn of her father’s own ‘strange’ behaviours that helped explain why he was so willing to buck trends.

She began with a little education in nursing, as ‘the Lady of the Lamp’ had made that profession respectable enough that even her mother couldn’t object. When she grew bored of that she moved on to chemistry. Then anthropology. Then mathematics. And on and on, dipping her toes in each subject until she finally came to astronomy and fell in love with the stars. It was the first thing that had held her attention for more than a month and she delved into the subject.

Her second love would come not long after and just as unexpectedly. She and her mother were visiting the Major at the London townhouse. Her father had had gone down the week before to meet up with Uncle Cosomo, a Sardinian soldier who had saved her father’s life back in the Crimean war. The two had kept up their friendship through the decades and her father had hired him as his ‘man of business’ in London after the old Sardinian had retired.

While out for a meal at one of the capital’s salons one of her father’s subordinates, a Captain Alistair Cathcart, had approached the family to pay his respects to the Major. The young Scottish captain of engineers had taken her breath away and for the first time ever Elizabeth found her inborn inquisitiveness struck dumb as an intense bashfulness overtook her.

Her unnatural quietness was later noticed by her mother who was nothing if not shrewd in such matters. Despairing that her daughter would ever meet such a match, she pushed and prodded her husband to arrange matters. An unconventional and forward-thinking man, Alastair found a similar attraction in the lively and intelligent Elizabeth. Within a few weeks the two were betrothed and then married by the end of the season.

A few brief years of happiness ensued before the clouds hid Elizabeth’s beloved stars. As they winked out of sight ahead of the long winter, Elizabeth felt as if it was a personal omen of disaster for her alone. As the world froze, a letter had arrived from her mother at their Scottish estate warning Elizabeth that her father had contracted pneumonia. She immediately began preparations for the dangerous trek back to her family home. The next day a letter arrived informing her the Major’s illness had worsened suddenly. He was dead.

When she arrived at the family estate she found the ashen remains of her childhood home. It had burned fiercely but briefly in the frozen weather. Any attempts to find out what had happened to her mother at the house were futile. People were dead or scattered to anywhere they could find warmth.
Elizabeth and Alistair returned to London where she took refuge with Cosomo. Alistair was soon called up to duty. To go North and to assist in founding a new settlement, New London. His training in the military and engineering would be of dual benefit.

And it had all worked fine. For a while. Elizabeth had continued her studies, wondering if there was any way to fight or reverse this unending winter. Cosomo had come with them and had turned his hand to scouting. The man was old but had lived through some of the most brutal wars of the century, often joking that it would take more than a little cold weather to take him down.

Her beloved Alistair had worked himself to the bone, along with all the other engineers and had built a community in a wasteland. They had done the impossible.

People still complained, which was natural, as it was still a tough life but at least it was something. Reports had come in that there was a disturbance at the generators as more people protested. Alistair had gone to see what he could do to help keep things in order when the deafening explosion had screamed across the colony and tore Elizabeth’s life apart again.

Other:

[I think I'll do up a profile for Cosomo too, either as a hunter or scout. I'll have it up soon.]​

 

[monochromegalaxy]

Name:
Walter Watson


Nickname(s):
Walt | Bricky | Church-bell (For irony's sake)

Age:
23

Nationality:
British

Gender:
Male

Sexuality:
Heterosexual

Occupation:
Labourer (and porter)

Equipment:
• Heavy arctic jacket, trousers, shaded goggles, gloves, and snow boots
• One ice pick
• Two fur bedrolls, an extra blanket, and two small arctic tents
• A spare jacket and underclothes
• Trail rations (will last around about three weeks for one person, a week for three)
• Shovel
• Snow saw
• Ice drill
• Flint and steel

Weapon(s):
• Shovel
• "...my fists?"

Personality:
Under the seemingly standoffish vibe Walter emits, his doubt never runs dry. He's always cautious about almost everything, making it quite hard for most to get close to the giant of a man. Walter normally looks out for himself as he believes everyone else won't, a whole childhood surrounded by selfishness drawing any expectations of kindness nearly dry. With friends and those he trusts, he still is cautious but shows his appreciation through doing tasks for them, anything as simple as buying them their favourite drink or helping out with their spring-cleaning. Walter enjoys keeping busy, whether it be simple chores or lugging about blocks of ice. His memory is above the average, his childhood memories surfacing often and in detail, rendering him sleepless most nights – a major factor in his stoic appearance and drinking habits. Can't sleep without some sort of medication, alcohol, or a hard punch on the head.

Backstory:
Walter never knew his parents. The only thing that was constant in his childhood was smoke, coal, pain, and alcohol. His whole childhood, what he remembered of it anyway, was spent at a coal factory, manning dangerous machinery and other perilous jobs that was required of him if he wishes to earn his next bottle of gin to drink himself to sleep. Walter counted himself as the luckiest children out of the workhouse, his most major injury being a multitude of large gashes all over his back, torso, and legs (which he earned by being stuck between large cogs briefly). He also managed to get a large cut on his forehead during a beating that'd gone too far. He witnessed a few deaths over the years, slowly his external reactions to the deaths disappearing, but his internal anguish growing worse.

By his mid-teens, Walter escaped the workhouse and stowed himself away on the first boat he saw. There, he stole some of their supplies little by little, especially the alcohol. He needed it to make himself sleep, he would say to himself. Slowly, but surely, some of the crew began to notice Walter's slip-ups, things like a forgotten empty gin bottle behind a pile of cargo. He was eventually caught and brought before the infuriated captain. Luckily for him, he wasn't tossed overboard nor beaten, but assigned to do chores like mopping decks or assisting in the engine room. Walter happily complied, and got to know some of the crew of the HMS Lightning, bumping into Edward, Victoria, and 'Wilhelm' occasionally.

His tough physique had served him well, Walter able to endure the long journey and the building of New London. Thinking he could start a new life, Walter was optimistic in the prospect of New London, but eventually, that disappeared when he was sent to the generator, overworked and in no better conditions like before. Walter was getting tired of being used, and thought about joining the protests but couldn't bring himself to, in fear of getting into trouble. When New London fell, Walter immediately sought out anyone familiar in hopes to survive in numbers.

Other:
Likes building snowmen and igloos.​

 

[That Poppy]

Name: Villanelle Bouch
Nickname(s): Elle
Age: 26
Nationality: French
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Occupation: Nurse


Equipment:
-scalpel
-scissors
-sleeping pills
-succinylcholine (pralayzes)
-Pain killers


Personality:
Villanelle's charm lay not so much in her physical appearance as in her vivacious personality, her gracefulness, her quick wit and other accomplishments. She was petite in stature and had an appealing fragility about her. In her youth, she is "sweet and cheerful" and enjoyed gambling, drinking wine, and gossiping. She is also fearless, determined, charming, ambitious, politically astute, highly intelligent and intellectually driven. However, under stressful circumstances, Villanelle could be sharp-tempered, verbally aggressive and sharp-tongued. Speaking of which, It terrorizes various how calm and collected she is. She has unquestionably won the title of a 'clever rascal'. Villanelle's most powerful weapon is her head, all will bow down to her quick-wit and intelligence to come up with solutions and of course, produce havoc. She is manipulative, at times you think you got her right where you want her when in reality this is all apart of her game. Her silver-tongue can get her out of impossible situations, she can comfortably word things to change your whole outlook on a person and you won't know it's happening. She has never and will never be intimidated or panicked by the thought of death and isn't afraid of dying.

Backstory:
wip

 

[Candlebell]

Name:

Cosomo Cossu

Nickname(s):

The Black Bull (to those who still remember his fits of rage in the Sardinian Army)

Age:

64

Nationality:

Italian

Gender:

Male

Sexuality:

Homosexual

Occupation:

Scout

Equipment:

-Thick winter clothing, snow boots, skis
-The worn, rank pelt of a bear he wears as a cloak, claims his killed the bear with his bare hands
-A large arctic tent
-14 days trail rations
-Two ice picks
-20 rounds of ammunition
-50ft rope
-Flint & steel

Weapon(s):

-A Turkish Cavalry Sabre
-A custom made Vetterli Bolt-Action Service Rifle

Personality:

A large gregarious bull of a man, Cosomo is considers loyalty to be one of life’s greatest virtues. As a common soldier, he had little need for the airs and graces of polite Society. His later involvement with James Napier, Elizabeth’s father, had led him to attempt a facsimile of polite behaviour, but his act quickly cracks at the slightest pressure.

A man of passions, Cosomo lived hard in his youth and the tolls of such a life are now returning to him in his old age. Quick to anger in his youth, the man would suffer from blackout fits of rage when provoked, which earned him an ominous reputation in the Sardinian army. He could do great feats of violence when in such a state, but seemingly had no way of telling friend from foe. Such fits dwindled when he met his life-long friend and companion James Napier, but he’s felt something building in him again ever since James’ death.

His body is still strong, surprisingly so for a man of his advanced age, but he lives in a near constant ache. He sometimes wonders if his desire to see James’ daughter and her husband safe and secure is the only thing keeping him from wandering into the frozen night to let it claim him.

Backstory:

Cosomo was always a man of action. Even in his youth, Cosomo was larger than his contemporaries and grew up into a swaggering braggart. He had a reputation as a vicious brawler and for several years served as a strongarm for some of the local crime families. Like many such men who relied more on the strength of their arm than the speed of their wit, Cosomo soon found himself wanted by the Polizia and happy to be served up by his erstwhile employers.

One step ahead of the guards, Cosomo fled his home of Genoa to enrol in the army, the refuge of most scoundrels. Here he found his true calling as he marched across Europe participating in one war or another. His talent for violence was greatly appreciated in the army and, when combined with his strangely likeable yet unnerving demeanour, Cosomo soon found himself at the rank of sergeant.

As he fought throughout the years, he began to suffer from increasingly frequent blackouts. He’d find himself in the thick of battle then suddenly back in the camp, with no memory of what had happened in between. His reputation of a man of action grew amongst his superiors, but the men who fought alongside and beneath him began to treat him with increasing wariness. They liked him, it was hard not to like the hard-drinking friendly giant after all, but they were also scared of him.

It was during the Crimean War that he met James Napier, a handsome, confident captain in the British Army. Cosomo scorned most officers, not considering them real soldiers but just rich men playing at war as they bought their commissions. He thought much the same of Napier, until they found themselves both cut off from the rest of their armies after a clash with the Russians. The experience of relying on Napier as they navigated themselves back to safety created a bond between the two men. Napier treated him with a mix of appreciation and scorn, admiring his talent and experience in violence but admonishing him in some of the ways he let it burst out. Few had confronted Cosomo about his behaviour in years, with even his own officers afraid of him by now.

An unsure friendship and respect arose between the two men of such different cultures and social standings but continued even after the war in a series of correspondences. Cosomo found in the strange Napier a man he could unburden his soul with. They couldn’t have been more different from one another, yet couldn’t deny that they found a comfort and contentment in one another. Cosomo found his taste for violence waning as he received constant critiques from his friend and eventually took the man up on his offer to retire to London and work for James.

It wasn’t long after Cosomo arrived in London that the two men began a relationship. Kept secret from all, James put Cosomo up in one of the family’s townhouse in London, taking him on as their man of business in the capital. Cosomo may not have had a head for business, but his naturally gregarious personality compensated for it, especially when his black mood seemed to have been cured by his new life with James.

The arrangement carried on for years and he grew to know the rest of James family and if his wife ever suspected anything she never made Cosomo aware of it.
After the coming of the freeze, Cosomo was shocked by the sudden and unexpected death of James, alerted in a polite but brief letter from his wife. He was left numb for days or possibly weeks, he had trouble remembering his actions back then. All he could remember is his old black humours rising again.

It was to some bewildered surprise that he opened his door one day to find Elizabeth and her husband Alistair standing on the step. They told him of the state of the family home and he quickly took them in.

He began to see a purpose he thought lost to him. James was gone, but he had left something behind. Cosomo would see his friend and lover’s daughter safe and secure. It was the one last thing he could do for his friend before joining him.​

 

[SilverFlight]

Pyotr is a big, broad-shouldered young man with the bearing and disposition reminiscent of a bear. His honey blonde hair is cut haphazardly and falls into his sky-blue eyes more than it stays out of them. His face is round with a strong jaw and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his small nose. Pyotr has the build of a man who has worked in the train yards most of his life; with a thick waist and a well-muscled frame, but more often than not that is hidden underneath a massive full-length bearskin coat. His hat, also bearskin, is pulled down close to his brow, the flaps covering his ears and the remainder of his wild hair. The spread-eagle crest of the Russian Imperial army marks the coat as standard military issue when the imperial military was still a cohesive unit.The coat is a memento from a not-too-distant past. Indoors, Pyotr wears simple cotton shirt and wool trousers, held up by a faded pair of suspenders. Oftentimes he'll be wearing a thick, hand-knit sweater of blue and white with the silhouette of a dog on the front. He wears a chain around his neck with an empty bullet shell at it's center, but becomes cagey and irritable if asked about it.
6'2" // 195lbs

Name:
Pyotr (Peter) Morozov

Nickname(s):
Petya (only his mother and sister used this)

Age:
26

Nationality:
Russian

Gender:
Male

Sexuality:
Heterosexual

Occupation:
Engineer

Equipment:
- Full set of spanners, screw drivers, thermal knife, a soldering device and small spare parts for basic machines.
- Portable battery that can deliver a small charge to power minor tools. Approximately an hour of use.
- Magnesium fire starter
- lard-soaked cotton (tinder)
- Small hatchet
- Skinning knife
- Patch kit
- Ice cleats
- Snow shoes
- Snare wire
- Oiled canvas arctic tent and thermal bedroll
- Dried rations for 2 weeks (salted meat, beans, rice, oats, a small bit of chocolate)
- Cooking pot, cups & utensils
- Compass, star chart & maps
- Bearskin coat and hat, wool scarf, sealskin mittens and thick, thermal-lined leather boots
- Set of trousers, cotton shirt, suspenders, thick wool socks (x3)
- Insulated goggles (tinted)
- 75L oiled canvas rucksack

Weapon(s):
A bladed club of Pyotr's own design, blunt on one side and sharp on the other, with a hooked point at the tip. The club is a total of 24 inches in length, the handle making up most of it is hard oak while the club ball and blade are tempered steel. The weight of the club behind the blade can cleave skulls if necessary and the hooked tip can make the weapon double as an ice pick for climbing. There is a thin rod of rubber-insulated metal running through the center of the handle with a metal node jutting out at the end of the hilt. This can be connected to an electrical circuit to heat the blade. Though heating can only be done for one minute before the hilt becomes in danger of combustion the blades remains searing for up to another minute depending on external temperatures.

Personality:
The harshness of the past several years has made Pytor's immediate demeanor gruff and short-tempered. He doesn't suffer fools because he he never had the luxury of being able to afford mistakes. Foolishness got people killed. Once Pytor's has had a chance to get to know someone however he can usually find something he likes about them. Though his english isn't immaculate he is not a bad hand at humour. He is fairly proud and is confident in his abilities, often making jokes with an air of false pomp, interpreting almost anything as secret adoration. Pyotr is charming when his guard is down, honest, thoughtful and a gentleman when the situation affords. Most often however, he is working, and this means he is serious, focused and altogether a little boring. Pyotr, because of his status in his family, has a caring side, especially to those younger than himself, and goes out of his way to look after apprentices. His temper runs cool and he is not prone to outbursts except in the direst of circumstances. Stoic and steadfast Pyotr is practical, level-headed and an obedient worker. Getting on good terms with Pyotr simply requires hard work and dedication to one's vocation and a willingness to cooperate with a group. People who refuse to do this or do not look out for the well-being of others anger him. Pyotr tends not to complain, even when he should, sometimes taking on more than he can cope with. This pride can be a severe weakness as he tries to push his own limits.

Backstory:
Life water never easy for Pyotr Morozov, his father was a soldier in the Russian imperial military, conscripted as a child. His mother was the daughter of an engineer at a military outpost in the far north. Pyotr was a not-so-happy accident between the two which forced his father to marry and move further south close to the capital. He continued his service, with occasional visits and a small stipend to keep the family afloat. Eventually his visits became less and less frequent, and the money came more sporadically. By the time both stopped altogether, Pyotyr was ten, and had a younger sister. The train yards were good places for a mischievous but bright young boy to find things to do. Pyotr learned from the old yard masters and engineers. He learned how to repair engines and connect circuits, he learned the principles of steam power and basic physics and math. The money was never good, so Pyotr also learned how to hunt and trap a little, and skin furs to sell for food. Pyotr never went to school, and only learned to read a little through the engineers that had time and interest to teach.
Pyotr and his mother and sisters scraped by for many years, on the outskirts of a town just waking up to the age of industry.
It was one cold, bitter winter they came: raiders from the north, masterless brigands that spat on the empire and raided her stocks for survival. They burned many houses that night, taking whatever they wanted. When they came to Pyotr's house he stood in front of the door to try and protect his family. He was knocked senseless by the blow of a rifle butt to his head. When he awoke, the home had been ransacked, and his mother lay on the kitchen floor, cradling the body of his sister in her arms. The shell that lay on the floor was still warm, from holding the bullet that killed her.
His mother wasn't the same after that day. Pyotr tried to comfort her, working double shifts at the rail yard to put enough money in their purse for food and medicine. His mother died of pneumonia a week before that winter's end.
Lost without his family, and with little other idea of what to do, Pyotr joined the imperial military, lying about his age and slipping into the engineer program. His hope was to find his father. Pyotr learned quickly, becoming one of the top students in the program. He was sent to the capital with the best, but it wasn't long after that the ash clouds descended.
The entire country dissolved into chaos within months: The summer crops failed, animals suffocated or were poisoned by sulfuric runoff. The imperial court had food enough to last them a long time, but the workers had nothing, and so, much like the revolution in France, the people rebelled. Pyotr was called upon to defend the noble houses, but being in the capital, and seeing the vast greed and indifference of his supposed leaders, he couldn't bring himself to shoot his fellows for their sake. Pyotr deserted the military, even as is fell to the angry hordes.
Pyotr escaped with a few others on a ship headed to what had once been Norway with the promise of a future. The city was impressive, and once there Pyotr gained a well-paid position as an automaton mechanic and locomotive engineer. For eight months his luck held, he had food, a warm bed...and then the storm hit. Pyotr was one of the mechanics struggling with the dying generators, not even the most fearful of eingineers would have thought to prepare for the disaster that befell New London. Pyotr lived through the darkest days of the city, right alongside his friends as they perished one by one. Only a handful were left when the weather finally let up, but the generators were well beyond repair, the metal cracked from the sheer cold. He had no choice, he gathered up what little he could and set out to find other survivors.​