Realistic or Modern The Mummy - Character Sheets

[StormWolf]

The character template and rules are as follows.

Rules
-Codes are not necessary, but you can gussie up your sheet how you like. Bonus points if you use codes, they are mobile friendly.
-Regarding Character Images: Face Claims and/or realistic artwork are both fine. No anime, please and thank you
-Characters of an occultist inclination may focus on the study of such things, but will not be starting out with any knowledge of spells, incantations, or even experience with the greater part of the supernatural. Gotta keep the Mummy spooky!

Spoiler: The Sheet

Name: Self explanatory
Alias//Nickname: Your radio handle, pet-name, nicknames, or other such simpler nomenclature.
Gender: Be what you want to be.
Age: 18+ for now. The Foundation isn't in the habit of hiring minors, but if the Expedition needs their own personal Short-Round, that can come later.
Nationality: If the character is multi-national, just how multi?
Appearance: At least an image and a brief description. If you're using a Face-Claim, include the name.
Gear & Equipment: What do they usually take into the field with them? On the street?
Personality: At least a solid paragraph. Is the character not only fun to write, but fun for others to write with? What makes them tick, what are their virtues and vices?
Skills & Talents: What're they good at? From the bookish to the barbaric, the Foundation sent the character a job offer because they are some of the best at what they do.
Background: At least three paragraphs of background information

 

[BELIAL.]

Evelyn Evans

Full Name: Beverly Rose Evans (née Dunham)

Alias: Evelyn Evans, B.V Evans (author pseudonym)

Age: 29

DOB/POB: 05/30/1901 || Lander, Wyoming, USA

Gender: Female - She/Her

Nationality: American

Appearance: Standing just short of five foot six, Evelyn is a curvaceous beauty. She carries herself proudly, posture impeccable, and is less than modest about her features. She dresses to compliment her curves, outfitted with heels in the city and boots in the workplace, and constantly matches her lipstick to her outfit. It's rare to catch her not looking put-together-- to her realm of availability, that is. Her formative years were spent wallowing in the closet of her developing body, but like any progressive woman, she's more than pleased with taking advantage of God given talents and using them to forward herself.

Evelyn's face is both soft and hard. Her jawline and cheekbones are prominent, pulling her smile up higher and wider for an all-around warm grin. Her full lips and all-telling, almond shaped soft-brown eyes are more often than not intensely fixed on a person or information. When she paints herself to be charming and lovable, with that tell-tale laugh and grin, it differs like night and day from her focused and frustrated furrowing (complete with pursed lips and narrowed gaze). Her chocolate brown hair is most often curled, with a natural wave to it, but neatly bouncing just past her shoulders.

Gear & Equipment: Posing as her late father's protege, Evelyn is well-equipped with that she believes to be an accurate assessment of how he used to do things. A majority of her luggage is filled with books, manuals, and notebooks of his work. All are in the realm of scholarly work, including references and indexes for Egypt and other ancient civilizations. Although his work was primarily in Asia, Ancient Europe, and South America, her father had accumulated quite the database for his dream expedition to Africa. Evelyn also has various methods of documentation including an assortment of cameras and film (including a portable black tent for developing), and a number of empty and official-looking notebooks for scribbling and sketching notes.

On her person she's brought with her a few personal things. These include: a pocket-watch engraved with ND (Nathaniel Dunham), her favourite lipsticks (various shades of red, pink-red, blue-red, and orange-red), cloth baggies (unlabeled and black), and a pistol she's had for years now (M1911, with enough ammo to make swiss cheese out of a grown man). She carries only a few of her favourite novels (those that she'd read a thousand times over). As well, she carries a few portraits she'd taken earlier in her life (a niche passion for photography), including nameless faces of strangers, friends, ex-lovers, and her 'ex-husband'. She'd tell no one who anyone was. Along with those, small mementos and trinkets (odds and ends of jewelry and keepsakes) that she'd pawned and won off of opponents in poker (and the fair bit of thievery she and her husband did). There's a lovely silk scarf, ocean blue, lifted from some heiress at a art show, that Evelyn adores most.

Personality: On prima facie, Evelyn seems like the picture of prestige. Every move is articulated perfectly, every tilt of her shoulder and intelligent nod to peers. Her most recent facade is that of a charismatic anthropologist (a trait not too fake to the woman, but an increasingly distanced illusion to the 20th century woman she's become since she was a child). Playing on her basic knowledge points, academic usefulness, and scholarly terms she's lifted off her father's work and fellow peers. Evelyn maintains a constantly deflating level of suspicion by knowing how to play the game, and playing it well.

Just beneath that surface, under the pretty mask she's ordained for the expedition, she is a ruthless woman. Lying is second nature to Evelyn, and nearly in tandem with her materialistic passions. Being in control, underestimated, and holding a loaded gun is her favourite way of navigating the various battlefields of social life. Flirtatious, enigmatic and slightly aloof keep her at arm's distance from allies, friends, and lovers. She's constantly afraid of failure, mostly to herself, and won't let anyone get to that point of scrutiny. Evelyn is a manipulator, and has one fascination in life: wealth. Fame would be nice, sure, but she couldn't care less about it if she could live comfortably and fat off her own hard work. Being a woman is one challenge, but overcoming every obstacle that comes with it? Just another roadblock that she's spent her life learning how to jump over. There's a lot of privilege in the woman, but she's quick to play the victim if it means skirting around the law (and consequences of her actions).

All of this came from a small-town, insecure, bookish girl named Beverly Rose with a dream for knowledge. Once upon a time, all she wanted to do was follow in her father's footsteps. She devoted herself, heart and soul, to being his academic heir. That part remains, hidden beneath barbed wire and selfish desires. Occasionally it may come out, often unsuspecting to both woman and company, but it is the most genuine you'd ever get of Evelyn. She loves fiercely despite fearing it. Evelyn is an intelligent soul, a scholar deep down, blurred and corrupted by visions of grandeur.

Skills/Talents: Evelyn is a skilled liar, pairing traditional verbal deception with in-depth non-verbal cues. She's a wordsmith as well, eloquent and persuasive. Physically, she's got basic self-defense (capable of throwing punches and kicks to get an edge on her opponent), but is no way any kind of fighting master. She knows how to fire a gun as well, limited to pistols and other handguns. Don't ask her to lift something heavy, she'll probably get someone else to do it and bat her lashes in that direction.

Evelyn has a knack for poker, and other gambling card games. Blackjack, Texas Hold'em, and among the others. Her skills of deception include to a pretty superior poker face; though that is easily seen through if one looks at her eyebrows, or the curve of her lips (not so good at being neutral). Her sleight-of-hand is only so good, though she usually strayed far from hiding and producing hidden cards during games.

Not proficient, but Evelyn has several books and translations for various languages (once again, retrieved from her father's massive collection). From her teen years spent traveling with him, she's got a basic understanding of a number of ancient language (simple words, common sentences, nothing MAJOR). Despite posing as an anthropologist, she does have some grasp of the social sciences. Her father's anthropology lessons were not lost on her, despite the years.

Aside from that, she's just an adaptive soul. Show her how, she'll catch on quickly.

Background: Beverly Rose Dunham was born at the end of May, right after a late spring rain, on her parent's farm just outside of Lander, Wyoming. Her father was Dr. Nathaniel Dunham, an established (albeit temporarily retired) anthropologist and curator of the Anthropology division of the Natural History Museum in New York. Her mother was a disgraced debutante from the sticky, Georgian South. Katherine Weston was a waitress at nineteen when she met the nearly thirty year old Nate Dunham-- and they hit it off. Within a year they were married, haplessly in love, and gave birth to a daughter. Katherine already had a son, hence the disgrace, born out of wedlock and three years older than Beverly. His name was Harrison Weston.

Life in Wyoming was fairly domestic for the Dunhams. Bev grew up with her maternal uncle and aunt just down the road on their own farm. She visited often, loving their mares and the creek access they had. Beverly was a soprano in the choir, a girl scout, and a talented tennis player. Her mother kept her busy with activities, living vicariously through her newfound daughter and all the adoration that came with that. Nathaniel had quit his life of expeditions and traveling the world after an injury he took leave for an indefinite time, but Beverly grew up hearing her father's stories and daydreaming of the adventures.

At some point in her early childhood, Nathaniel and Katherine divorced (or very well the closest one could get without court interference or public eye). Nathaniel wanted to get back in the world, spurred on by his daughter's passion, but Katherine wanted to keep them all on her tidy ranch in the country. It was a rough ending to things, Beverly being shielded from most of it, but Nathaniel ended up having both kids and taking them back with him to New York. The big city was a big change to Bev, just shy of eleven, but she fell into the rhythm and allure quickly. At her school she ended up involved with a group of young girls who were as creative as Beverly, but had the drive and devotion to pursue their interests in becoming novelists. They held a secret club at school, exchanging stories every week. This inspired Beverly more than any other moment in her life, and she grew a shade of confidence from these girls.

Harrison was enrolled in university, off a recommendation from his father who'd taken up a teaching job at Columbia. He was lackadaisical, and a growing alcoholic. Investment in his studies just wasn't for Harrison, and Beverly would always tag along (out of curiosity and envy). She got tied up in his group at that point, weed-smoking and society-condemning wayward souls. She was drawn to Grant Mackenzie, 19 at the time, and the two got cozy. Harrison, on the other hand, was in and out of university like it was AA. His bad behaviour bit him right in the ass though, the draft calling Harrison overseas. Although Beverly and her brother were never extremely close, the event was traumatizing for her. They wrote to each other during his deployment, and she kept the letters for years to come.

Beverly and Grant were getting real close, real comfortable, and one morning while her dad was out at work, she snuck Grant in. To her surprise, her mother was waiting at the front door-- coming to beg for her family, and her husband back. Nate had very much moved on, with a live-in girlfriend, and Beverly was enraged to see her mother there. Katherine was even more aghast seeing her young daughter with an older man; perhaps triggered by her own misadventures with Beverly's father. The two got into a lengthy argument, Beverly insisting that there wasn't any room for Katherine in their family anymore (convinced that it was her mother who had abandoned them back in Wyoming). This information broke her mother, and in a lapse of heated anger, she took pity on the woman. The two went out, bonding over a cup of coffee on the Main. Though it had only been a few years, Beverly was somewhat relieved and elated to have her mother back in her life. She remained non-judgmental of her father for what he did, though his actions she would condemn all the way to his death.

With things on the uphill for Beverly's life, swinging into 1915, Beverly was invited by her father and his girlfriend to go traveling with him. He'd been very much enthralled with some new expeditions, and, reasoning that his daughter would be following in his footsteps, he opted to take her with him. For four years Beverly was in and out of small encampments, rural cities, hole-in-the-mountain hostels, and very much living the life she'd always fantasized about. They toured Asia and the south of Europe mostly. Nate searched far and wide for any recruitment to Africa, but timing and travel prohibited him every time. Even still, Beverly was taught by the very best. She got to assist in dusting old monuments, remnants of forgotten civilizations, and even got to hold a skull. To her it was everything, and every little thing that happened she wrote in her journal. She wanted to write a great story about it, determined to tell the story of all these ancients.

Returning home to the States when Beverly was 18, she went out on a limb and decided to move in with her mother out in Hollywood. Her mother had her own dreams of being a star, whereas Beverly just wanted to be writer. Even if it was a ghost writer, or a secretary to some Great of the Greats, there was an idealized version of this reality to the girl. The year was a whirlwind of events, with constant failures knocking the young girl down. Her mother brought her up every time, chastising her for letting the boys get her own. She amplified the girl's confidence, in the best way that a young mom could, and told her to take advantage of the disadvantages. Her mother's most famous quote, one that Beverly would continue to live by: "Prove them wrong. Then, laugh over coffee." Her mom inspired a new change in the girl, including a few less than savoury actions in order to further herself. She slept her way into jobs, maintaining some level of status with her boss at a press by continuing to appeal to his interests. It didn't matter to Beverly: she had a dream.

That dream began to fade, burned in 1920 when her mother was ripped from her by the Spanish Flu. Disheartened, Beverly packed up her bags and moved back to New York. Her father had gotten his job back at the museum, her brother had returned from the war a shell of himself (and with one less leg). She wasn't ready to face the brutal reality, a bleak change from the allure of LA's glamour. But, being back with her father, she was once again drawn to the studies she'd abandoned. It was like a drug addiction to the woman. Once she was through with it, it always called back to her. Her goals were ignited again, but this time... with a flavour.

Journalism became Beverly's calling. As much as she wanted to be a novelist, and be free of her creative weights, she knew she had the eye for detail and deception. It came easy to her, and although she was one of the only females in the office, one of the men took a liking to her. Anthony Evans. Charming, aloof, and a passionate soul; Anthony was far more dedicated to the work than their co-writers. He wanted to get elbow deep in the business, and elbow deep in the media out there. Crime was his strong-point, always managing to get ins with the local gangs and staking out their work. They liked him, as it was. Beverly went on a few rides with him, equally enraptured by this adrenaline-filled life, and by the third night they were out together, they shared a kiss. Anthony and Beverly were married within the year, a whirlwind romance of two partners beyond just idiots in love. They sneaked, cheated, and lied their way into prestigious events. Galas, dinner parties, it didn't matter. They were a deadly team.

After a few months of marriage, Beverly noticed that Anthony was more than just an avid crime-dog... he was a double agent. Working both for the gangs and the police force, he was tipping the line between danger. Beverly found this more alluring than anything, and was swept into that life as well. They were Bonnie and Clyde before Bonnie and Clyde, although Anthony and Beverly never outright robbed any banks or held any innocent people at gun-point. They did petty thievery from the elites, what with the times slowly crippling the job market and stocks, and tried to live their most advantageous lives despite the circumstances.

All of this gave Beverly the confidence she needed to begin to write. It was nothing special to her, although it was an old manuscript she'd made in the wake of moving from LA. Adopting a pseudonym, and well-acquainted with her husband's inner circle of writers, she got to publishing and distributing her first novel: "The Hollywood Fever". It's an instant hit, with catapulting changes in society and time marketing the novella to audiences all over the nation. E.B. Evans was gaining traction, whereas Beverly was content with laying low (for the time) and getting a small secretarial job. She liked to play behind the shadows, and as soon as she noticed her boss (a married well-to-do in the production business) giving her a few once-overs on the daily, she sunk her teeth in the for kill. Mr. Hammond was a sensual man, as it were, and Beverly was the ideal picking for him. She started a small, quiet relationship with him in order to slip in her manuscripts and ideas for selling and the taking. He didn't think much of, more obsessed with the space between her legs, but it was enough to get Beverly another small amount of money on the side.

During that time she wrote a few more novels-- or rather, E.B. Evans did. "The Ladies of Cell Block Seven", "A Driveway Called Fairview", and her most recent, "My Brother George" (an intimate novel on the account of a man and his brother's involvement with the Great War). She wrote of all of these whilst flirting the line of the law, her marriage, and her boss. A tumultuous time indeed for Beverly.

Everything came to a halt when Anthony was caught up in a gambling business, claiming to be undercover, but booked anyway. They began to dig up his past, putting him on the line for a harsher sentencing, and he called to his wife to visit him in the jail. With painted red nails, and a darling crimson felt hat, she tells Anthony she isn't going to bail him out. Instead, she's going to plead the innocent wife, write one final expose on his actions, and leave him high and dry. Anthony is enraged, broken-hearted, and Beverly can only walk away. Returning home that evening, Beverly received news that her father had fallen ill, compounded by his recent heart attack. With one last thing to do, she packs up her things and heads to Buffalo and her father's old family home. She quits her job and leaves no trace of her newest journey.

Arriving at her father's estate, she is rather unwelcomed by her brother who had been caring of their father and his declining health for the last five years or so. They are cold and unfamiliar to each other, but Beverly goes to her father's side. Seeing the home, and all of his belongings and artifacts-- third time is the charm-- she is reminded of all the year spent pining over his research. It inspires a new wave in her, a new novel perhaps, but she tells neither her father or her brother of her status and intention. Although she's aware they don't know about her being an author, and a fairly famous one, she sees a copy of both "My Brother George" and "The Hollywood Fever" on his desk. She never gets to ask if he knew all along, because her father passes in the night.

Grief strikes the siblings hard. Beverly opts to stay there for a few weeks, despite her brother being apathetic, and she sees a fancy letter addressed to her father in the mail one morning. The Carlyle Foundation. It seemed that no one told her father's work associates that he was ill, and only that he was on his temporary retire (a reoccurring habit, as it were). Suddenly, with the mind to seize the opportunity, she writes that Professor Nathaniel Dunham has unfortunately passed away-- but his protege, Evelyn Evans, would be more than happy to take his place (as this Evelyn Evans had taken over his position at the Museum of Natural History). All it took was a few phone calls and a few trips to fellow contacts, a number of forged papers, and Beverly found herself locked away in the upstairs closet.

It was Evelyn who emerged, read to write the novel of a lifetime.

Family:
Professor Nathaniel Dunham (deceased): a well-known curator, anthropologist and professor in New England. Death by heart attack complications in 1929.

Katherine Weston (deceased): once beloved daughter of Jameson Weston (old-money Southern landowner), disgraced after the bastard birth of her son. Killed by Spanish Flu in 1920.

Anthony Evans (alive): former journalist, booked in jail for criminal activity

Harrison Weston (alive): WW1 vet, ex-scholar and homebody.

coded by weldherwings.

 

[StormWolf]

Matthew Carter

Name Matthew Harris Carter
Nicknames: Matt, “Maddy”
Gender: Male; he/him
Age: 30; DOB - 5/15/1900
Nationality: American

Appearance: Matthew stands a pinch over the average height, coming it at a solid 6’1” with his boots on. With a strong jaw and chin and a stormy brow, he looks every part the brooding American, even when leering over a pair of reading glasses.

Built from lean, steely sinew, with broad shoulders and a deep chest, he stands apart from the usual academy alumni that wear the silver class ring as him. Being a veteran of the Great War, he’s already cut his teeth on some particularly mean bush, and has the scars to prove it. After the War, he saw fit to keep himself busy in order to make a living, keeping his physical condition well maintained in the decade since his service in the Expeditionary Force.

Gear & Equipment: Being an American, Matt has collection of firearms he would consider “on the moderate side of robust”. To those outside the United States, it is probably downright intimidating, possibly even ridiculous.
Insofar as sidearms are concerned, Matt is braced with a pair of matched Remington Rand 1911s, typically worn in a shoulder rig, and a Smith & Wesson 1917 in a flap-holster at his hip. He usually carries a buck knife on his person for bushcraft, and a ka-bar for when there's fighting to be had. For those with a longer barrel, Matt made his trip with a Thompson, a Colt Monitor, a Springfield 1903, and a Winchester 1897 shotgun.

No less fearsome than his personal arsenal is Matt's travel journal. A notorious note-taker and middling sketch artist, he meticulously catalogues all finds of note, as well as documenting his travels with maps and written testimonies.

Personality: Despite his stern outward expression, Matt is actually easy to make smile. He's never one to balk at a good joke, even one told at his own expense by friends. He's seen first-hand that life can be short and fickle, so there's little point in denying oneself the chance to indulge in a laugh. But with great mirth often comes great melancholies, the latter of which can often be subdued with the former, or with a stiff drink.

While not a wrathful man in his own right, Matthew had always possessed a talent for violence. When his parents moved to Atlantic City after a cattle famine eviscerated their homestead, a younger, smaller Matthew needed to learn how to fend for himself. As such, Matt knows how to throw a punch as well as take them. Much to his chagrin, he's taken more than his share. Above all, Matt has always been a guardian by his nature; looking out for his kid sister and joining up with the Army because it was the right thing to do. His father's appetite for knowledge runs in the blood, marking Matthew as the rare "Roughneck Bookworm".

Even in a situation where he's completely out of his academic depth, Matt is always eager to learn, should circumstances permit.

When it comes to his fears, Matt is downright terrified of apes, chimpanzees especially. Primates in general give him the heebie-geebies, but apes are the kicker.

Skills & Talents: As can be expected of someone who owns the mechanical menagerie of firearms like Matt does, he knows how to use them. While he never climbed past the status of rank-and-file rifleman, Matt is a decent shot. He's not threading a needle with a rifle from six-hundred yards or doing silver-screen trickery, but when it comes to functional gun-handing, Matt's up there. Related in kind, he's trained in fighting with a knife, and is every part the cowboy-kid brawler.

He's a decent hand behind the wheel, as well. Steady with a steely grip, but he's far more at home behind the handlebars of a motorcycle than the wheel of a car.

From his classical education, as well as the time spent learning abroad in the Army, Matt can speak French and German well enough, though his accent will always flag him as a non-native speaker. It was his time overseas that made Matt find his passion for history, which he studied extensively upon his return to the states. His primary focus was on the crusades, but he's always fond of passing time in a book.

Background: Matthew was born to Randolph Carter and Amelia Harris in Enid, Oklahoma. His father had always been a reedy and reclusive man, an antiquarian through and through, who had taken the time away from his University work to tackle an extensive anthropological-archaeological dissertation. His mother was a stout woman of the land, being a classic Scottish work horse. It was a simple, but enjoyable existence for a long while; it was a hard life, but it was an honest one, even if the cattle would bite him and whip him with their tails.

Come 1910, Matthew had a little sister on the way, and her arrival seemed to herald the end of their life in the country. A famine struck some of the local livestock families, and being a smaller property, they the Carter family couldn't make ends meet. They had to cut their losses and move back to the city, his father's neck of the woods. Disheartened and frustrated, Randolph returned to work as the antiquarian at the Miskatonic University Library, putting one mind-addling endeavor on hold to pursue another.

The family had set up in a rickey boarding house in Atlantic City, Matthew filing up his childhood hours by attending school, earning money on paper routes, and caring for his baby sister while both their parents worked. More often than not, Matthew would come home with a black eye or a split lip and a sour expression on his face. His sister, little Vanya Carter, called him "Maddy". He knew it was just her trying to get his name right, but it was a befitting monicker that has stuck through the rest of his life.

By 1917, Matthew had been all but guaranteed a full ride at Stanford when the call to arms was sounded. Seeing that he had no other choice, Matthew enlisted, much to the chagrin of his parents. Like most young men in the Expeditionary Force, Matthew was deployed in France, partaking in the Second Battle of Somme. Like many young men who survived, there was a part of himself that stayed behind in those trenches. He was never the same, even upon returning, even when he tried his best to put things back on track.

Stanford's offer had dried up, leaving Matthew to beseech his father for a good word with the University where he worked. He got admission, but no aid in tuition like he had before, and the family couldn't afford putting him through school without a scholarship. So, Matthew took up odd-jobs around the city, some legal, other not, as a means to pay his way through school for the next twelve years.

coded by weldherwings.

 

[Jannah]

Name: Nader Basara
Alias//Nickname: N/A
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Nationality: Egyptian Coptic(so yes, descended from the Ancient Egyptians)
Appearance:

Spoiler: Image

(Face claim is Rami Malek.)
Nader is on the shorter and more slender side, suggesting a lack of immense physical strength(he knows he is more brains than brawn anyway). In contrast to some of the other men in the group he also possesses a more clean-cut and professional appearance. He keeps himself, his clothing and hair especially, in pristine condition as much as possible. He even hates getting dirty. Fitting with his more innocent and perhaps naive personality, he does also possess a bit of a baby face which leads to many to assume he is younger than he actually is.
Gear & Equipment: When out in the field Nader is a man to come prepared. He will rarely go anywhere without a compact shoulder bag of first aid supplies. The prospect of survival is also considered by the man so also contained within is a canteen of water and a hunting knife. Although he only has basic knowledge on how to use it, on this most recent expedition he does also carry a pistol and ammo.

Besides these necessities he does prefer to travel as lightly as possible.
Personality: When it comes to exploration and survival Nader is very much a fish out of water. He is the type who would much rather sit inside a hospital or a library studying(especially if said topic is medicine). Although he has this tendency to be a homebody he is also well-aware that his medical expertise is needed outside his own familiar four walls. It leads to the man to make some difficult decisions, provided he can assure they're to help others in some way. Of course, the man enjoys helping others and it is a trait that played a major factor in his deciding to pursue medicine. He is very much one to go out of his way to help others, even occasionally at complete risk to himself. He is loyal to anyone he is bound to, whether family, friend, or employer.

Due to his tendencies Nader possesses a bit of a naive streak. While he is very much a book smart individual he lacks much in the way of street smarts. This makes him rather easy to lure into questionable situations if properly manipulated. Ideally, if one hopes to gain his loyalty they are best playing off his desire to help others. Unsurprisingly, those he is close to finding themselves under threat is enough to set him off and set him on the defensive. He is not strictly a pacifist, but violence of any sort is always a last resort. Perhaps even more unsurprising is that he is able to remain relatively calm in most stressful situations. He has trained himself to be calm, particularly as a doctor, as to provide the best care to his patients possible.
Skills & Talents: Due to Nader's status as a native Egyptian he was primarily hired by the Foundation as a translator/interpreter of both Arabic and Coptic languages. He is a native speaker of both languages along with speaking fluent, albeit heavily accented, English and French. He does also have basic knowledge of some hieroglyphs. Additionally, he is a trained physician so offers medical expertise to the team if needed(and it's almost destined to be when venturing into decrepit tombs).

Although it is far from being at an academic level he does carry some knowledge of ancient Egyptian culture, folklore, and religion due to his family roots. In fact, he still carries a degree of superstition about such things and is wary about messing around with the old tombs at all. Still, a job is a job and he is happy to participate in these hard times.
Background: Nader's past is a rather unremarkable one.

Born to a working class family in the heart of Cairo, his childhood was not filled with luxury although his basic needs were provided for. As he aged he quickly became the boy who simply preferred to keep his nose buried in books rather than interacting with the other children. As a result, he did not retain many friends, but he was content with it. He found himself preferring imagination anyway. He also found himself fascinated by his father's tales of the ancients - the very same ancients that the curious boy soon learned he was directly descended from. The revelation gave the boy a sense of pride that encouraged his reading further, only this time of a more academic nature.

Initially, the boy wanted to become an archeologist but the outbreak of war soon changed his ambitions towards a different goal. Being so moved by the death and suffering caused by the needless conflict of WW I he felt driven to help others; if there was anything that could be done to minimize suffering then he wanted to be part of it. Naturally, upon much hard work and becoming of the appropriate age he found himself enrolling in one of the most prestigious medical schools in Cairo. There he began his journey into the man he is today.

Nader became well-respected during his time in school. He proved himself to be both intelligent and hard-working. He was particularly adept at memorizing countless medical procedures, allowing him to eventually graduate as one of the top students of his class. Rather quickly it allowed him to find employment privately treating some of Egypt's top officials directly. It was not quite the same experience as the public hospital employment he hoped for, but it paid the bills and got him direct experience. Fortunately it proved to be a valuable decision for the man as the economy came crashing down.

Like most others worldwide, Nader found himself wanting upon experiencing the Economic Crash of 1929. With many of his former employers finding themselves penniless they could no longer afford to pay him, leaving them no choice but to dismiss him. It left the man unemployed for a time, but finally an opportunity came in the form of a man connected to one of his former employers: an ambitious man who was putting together an expedition into some of Egypt's lost tombs. Apparently he had been seeking out medical personnel and those with knowledge of the local languages and customs. To Nader's luck he was both, easily winning himself a place within the expedition team. The prospect of disturbing the resting places of his dead ancestors did make him feel uneasy, but he was not about to turn down a job opportunity in these hard times.

 

[Togy]

Name:
Lafayette Versailles Le'fonte

Alias//Nickname:
Laff

Gender:
Male

Age:
34

Nationality:
French

Appearance:
They're face claim is Daniel Radcliffe, but try to imagine a more unhinged, scruffy Daniel Radcliffe like that one pic of him in his Pajamas with two Glocks. With frazzled hair, a scruffy but short beard, and a look like he hasn't slept in days, you're starting to get the picture of Laff. Standing at 5'7 with relatively no muscles, Laff isn't very imposing though. Most of the time, his posture is hunched, but upon hearing anything he finds interesting he suddenly looks like he was filled with youthful energy.

Gear & Equipment:
His expedition gear is as follows:
-Chalk
-A silver crucifix
-An iron locket
-Salt
-Lighter
-Quartz crystals
-Gemstones
-Incense
-An Athame knife that's used for cooking and eating when not used to ward off spirits
-Journals detailing Egyptian mythology
-A collection of papers on Egyptian spells
-Various research equipment
-A self defense six cylinder Smith and Wessen revolver with a few boxes of ammo to go along with it. He keeps it unloaded.
-An actual living cat. As soon as he realized he was heading to Egypt, he bought


Personality:
Obsessed with the supernatural, gullible enough to believe it, and mad enough to specifically seek it out. Don't get him wrong, he's not actually insane, but everyone around him sure does think so. Every time someone says what he's studying is either pointless, doesn't exist, or both, a part of him dies inside. He fully believes that the paranormal is real, and feels an unending amount of frustration when no one believes him. He will defend his views valiantly in an argument, and is stubborn enough to never, ever give any ground in an argument relating to the abnormal.

That isn't his only personality trait of course. Outside of his constant references to the unnatural, he's actually half decent. He's witty, stupidly brave, and actually pretty smart in his own right. Sure, he's not the kind of person you make fast friends with, but he's bearable to be around. That said, be aware that sarcasm is as thick as blood with this one.

Skills & Talents:
Folk lore expert: From voodoo curses to Egyptian mythology, Laff knows it all
Egyptology: From recognizing the culture to deciphering Hieroglyphs, Laffayette is decently skilled at it. He barely bothered to learn the language though.
Mathematics: Good for calculating travel time, useless in every other regard
Astronomy: Useful for navigating by the stars, but not much else
Engineering: One of his only useful skills, he's good for fixing up engines
Limited medical knowledge: Enough to know that red means bad
Philosophy: He's not sure why he bothered to learn this
Horrible interpreter: Russian, French, and German he's good at. Egyptian? Not so much
Firearms: He won't shoot himself in the foot at least
A plethora of other mostly useless skills: Self explanatory

Background:
Born inn July 28th, 1896 in the French city of Versailles, Laffayette had it all laid out for him. as an only child to two extremely bright parents, Laff was basically destined to become a scholar. He excelled in his schooling, and for the first 15 or so years of his life, his entire family were normal people. Then, out of the blue, his parents took up mythology. It was tame at first, but then they began focusing they're entire time into their studies and, before they knew it, became believers of the supernatural.

Aghast at how quickly it happened, all Laff could really do was go on with life. He went on to study in England and Russia, trying to distance himself from the parents he believed had gone mad. One day, while living with a Russian aristocrat studying astronomy, Laff turned 18. The very same day, WW1 was declared. Surprisingly unmoved by the fact, Laff continued to study astronomy, putting up with war time rationing and martial law. Then, in 1917, the Bolshevik movemet began in an attempt to take down the Russian aristocracy in favor of a communist government. Unfortunately for Laff, he was considered Aristocracy. Fortunately for Laff, a month after the Bolsheviks beat down his door and imprisoned him, they realized they couldn't actually do anything with him because France would take none too kindly to having one of it's citizens executed.

Laff came back to France a changed man. Not changed as in they had crippling PTSD of their time in a freezing cell, but changed in the sense that they were now considered to be completely insane. He claimed to have seen the Baba Yaga, swore that he saw proof of spirits in the prison, and declared that "H.P. Lovecraft was right about everything". The university he worked under proceeded to fire him under the suspicion that he'd gone insane.

The next decade was a blur for Laff, with him trying and failing to prove the supernatural existed while reading everything he could find about folk lore. He worked on side projects ocassionally, and he even managed to tone down his obsession enough so that universities would actually hire him, but his main focus was the paranormal. Upon hearing the Carlyle Foundation's plans to send an expedition through the deserts of Egypt, a veritable treasure trove of abnormalities and folk tales in Laff's opinion, Laff signed up immediately.
​

 

[Kabobtoss]

Russell Callahan

Name Russell Callahan
Nickname "Lucky"
Gender Male
DOB 04/21/1889 Age: 41
Nationality American

Military Credentials
US Army
Rank: Corporal
Company: 77th Division
Service Number: 7777
Current Military Status: Honorable Discharge (completed tour of duty)

Appearance
Russell comes in at an average 5'11", with a constantly disheveled look that somehow always looks planned. His sharp hazel eyes are framed by messy, medium-length, dirty brown hair, and a thick moustache with a killer 5-o'clock shadow. When not on assignment, he dresses in a casual fashion - most often seen in a white or light-colored dress shirt (with the top two buttons undone, sleeves rolled Italian style) loosely tucked into a pair of thick denim jeans and steel-toed boots. On more formal occasions, he will simply put on a dark brown or black blazer with matching dress shoes. When on duty, he brings his infantry web gear packed with essentials for survival (including armaments and provisions). He also wears his dog tags and a simple silver cross around his neck, both of which are tucked under his dress shirt. He always seems to be smoking a cigar and drinking from a flask of home-made moonshine, regardless of the situation.

He has the appearance of a relaxed (albeit grumpy) uncle - nothing seems to phase Russell. He has a near-constant scowl on his mug, with the occasional smirk to things he finds humorous, but there's always a snarky twinkle in his eye. Don't let his relaxed nature and posture fool you, though - he's regularly taking stock of his surroundings, and is ready to act at a moment's notice. He has a well-cut physique - thanks in part to the Great War and his upbringing - that allows him to be quick on his feet when need be. One knows when they've really ticked Russell off when he stands facing them with squared shoulders - he only gets tense when he's ready to fight.

Gear & Equipment
On your average day, Russell can be seen openly toting "Lady Luck" on his right hip and "Sheba" on his left. Unbeknownst to many, "Moll" is always on-hand. When it's time to go to war, he pulls on his web gear (chock-full of supplies, munitions, etc.), shouldering "Belle" if he's expecting an open-air engagement or "Bertha" when expecting more close-quarters combat, and ensuring he has at least 3 each of MK-2s and MK-3s (one can never be too prepared to distribute destruction). "Big Mama" stays attached to whatever vehicle he's currently using as transport.

Weapons
"Belle" - Browning M1918 Automatic Rifle
"Bertha" - Winchester M1912 Shotgun (12-Gauge)
"Big Mama" - M2 "Ma Deuce" Browning .50 M1919 Shortstack
"Lady Luck" - Custom Colt .45 M1917 (7-round Revolver)
"Sheba" - Puma White Hunter Knife (6" Blade)
"Moll" - Mark 1 Trench Knife
MK-2 Grenades (Fragmentation)
MK-3 Grenades (Concussion)

Personality
Russell has a sarcastic retort to almost any comment in a conversation. He doesn't come across as mean, but snarky in an endearing sort of way. He'll banter with the best of 'em, but never seems to open up to anyone. When alone, he is often seen with a haunted, 5-mile stare into the distance. He usually baulks at the idea of taking charge, but will often be found helping others prepare for the work to be done without being told. He is never in a rush to accomplish a task, unless it's a life-or-death situation. He seems to love complaining about anything and everything, but it doesn't stop him from getting the job done.

Russell is loyal to those whom he is attached to. If you're in his "company", you're family. No questions asked. He might not agree with everything you do or believe in, but he'll back you up. He doesn't make many promises, because he would never want to break his word - he figures actions speak louder than words. Betrayal is anathema - anyone who hurts those in his family is dead to him (figuratively if not literally).

Anyone who enjoys music and cards will find a partner in Russell - when travelling, he often brings a beat up acoustic guitar and a deck of cards to keep himself occupied on long tours. He's not much of a gambler (he doesn't like betting on chance), but he plays for the joy of playing and the camaraderie. Nothing suites him more than a night under the stars, sitting around a campfire, drinking liquor, smoking a stogie, and playing cards.

One thing he hates, however, is cats. He thinks they're the Devil's creature, and will have nothing to do with them. The way he sees it, dog is man's best friend, and they don't like cats, so why should he?

Skills & Talents
Growing up in Appalachia, Russell knows how to live off the land. He grew up learning how to hunt, scavenge, identify plants, create makeshift weapons, and generally learning how to survive on his own in the wilderness. He can use knives well enough, but he was taught how to handle firearms relatively young, and immediately took a liking to anything that went "boom". He is decent behind the wheel, but often prefers to ride shotgun so he can keep an eye on the surroundings. He also knows how to make his own moonshine, praise the Lord.

He also has all the training of a proper WW1 US Army soldier - firearms, digging trenches, fitness/endurance, combat tactics, boxing & wrestling, etc. He's a good physical fighter, but an exceptional marksman. He always liked the idea of taking out the opposition before giving them a chance to respond in kind.

Russell was never one to pick up a book - why read about an adventure when you can live one? He only speaks English, and figures that's enough for him. He appreciates people who know a lot about different things, but its just not his thing. He doesn't expect himself to be the best at everything - that's what your team is for.

Background
Born and raised in the Great Smoky Mountains of North Carolina, Russell was always one to get his hands dirty. From a young age his Pa taught him how to survive (and thrive) in the wilderness. Whether it was catching game or correctly identifying the wildlife, Russ (as his family knows him) always loved spending his life outdoors and learning from his Pa. Russ was never a "brainy" kid - its not that it took him long to learn things, but he didn't enjoy being forced to learn in a classroom or from books. His education was always best when it was hands-on, so his family kept him active as much as they could.

His family was one of the few that stood against the logging of the Great Smoky Mountains. Russ and his family ensured that none of their land was logged, and in fact did what they could to prevent logging around their land too. Warning shots and "harmless" traps (most notoriously pits to trap the loggers) were effective in steering the loggers away from their precious forest. Russ figured that he would spend his early adult life with his family, then perhaps moving to a big city to make his way into the more "modern" world.

The Great War had something else in mind.

Russ quickly enlisted, joining the 77th Division. Before he shipped overseas he received his Service Number, and his nickname along with it. For him, the nickname ended up being earned as he and his crew remained "lucky" throughout the Great War. His quick thinking and strategic intuition led to him raising up to the rank of Corporal, where he was the head of a small band of 4 other men within the 77th Division. Throughout all of the Great War, "Lucky" maintained his cheerful, adventurous, care-free demeanor.

Until a single skirmish near the end of the war resulted in his "band" walking head-first into a trap. His men were gunned down right in front of him. Many people said that his nickname was well-earned that day, as he left that skirmish physically unscathed.

His heart, however, was shattered.

He couldn't keep his men alive - men who trusted him. Men whom he loved. Men whose dog tags he still keeps with him, attached to the same chain on which his own tags hang. They are a constant reminder of his failure, the cost of war, the fragility of life...

The gravity of taking charge.

He, like everyone else, left the Great War as a changed man.

He came back much more spiteful, angry, and self-deprecating. Fortunately, his Pa was able to sit and have long chats, either by the fire or on the porch on stormy evenings. He reminded Russ of his worth, of the fact that yes, war was costly, but what he paid was worth the freedom he helped to earn. His spite turned to snarkiness, his anger into grumbling, his self-deprecation into times of isolation and reflection.

One day he received a letter from the Carlyle Foundation (he figured due to his time in the Army and his marksmanship skills), and he decided to give it a go. Little did he realize that his life was going to be changed again. He still doesn't know what to think of the "supernatural" mumbo-jumbo that people talk about (or the little that he's encountered), but the pay is good... and the adventure is even better.

coded by weldherwings.

 

[sprouhtt]

Elaine Cross

​

 

[darth]

Levon Sarkissian

Name Levon Sarkissian
Nickname(s) "Lev"
Gender Male
Age 37 - DOB: 2/17/1893
Nationality Turkish Armenian

Appearance: (Faceclaim: Oscar Isaac)
Levon is a shorter, stocky man. While standing at just below average at around 5 feet and 9 inches, where he lacks in height he makes up for in steely features. His skin is weathered and calloused, reflecting his austere lifestyle. Levon is a deeper, caramel tone with dark, curly hair and brown eyes. His face is ruddy, partially hidden by a thick, unkempt beard.

Gear & Equipment:
The typical kit Levon will take on his expeditions is a small rustic backpack to hold general supplies. Among them would usually be various rations, a canteen for water, a blanket for cold nights, and sometimes a flask full of Levon’s favorite brand of Armenian brandy. Usually, Levon would only pack this bag for longer, more arduous expeditions. Levon’s satchel, however, is usually always on his person. Within it, Levon guards his precious maps and charts, as well as his journal. He also carries a number of other tools, usually associated with cartography. Pencils, a compass, and binoculars.

On his hip he holsters a memento earned during his service to the Russian Empire. An M1895 Nagant revolver. Levon always keeps it loaded. It offers peace of mind when unfriendly strangers won’t seem to keep their distance. However, in the event that particular stranger does venture too close, uninvited, Levon keeps a trench knife hidden in his waistband. Not to confuse Levon with a violent psychopath, he simply wants to make sure any person with ill intentions can be dealt with swiftly.

On a side note, Levon has developed a habitual collection of antique ceremonial blades. He holds on to such things as keepsakes from his adventures. Levon usually doesn't carry them on his person, and keeps them hidden in a old trunk. He currently is possession of a Jambiya knife he bought in Mecca, a partially restored Kopis blade he found while excavating in near Corinth, a broken Sumerian dagger he found within the tombs of Ur, and a Khanjali dagger gifted to him by a Russian Cossack. Levon's trunk contains various other items, old books and notes, letters from his mother, a sketches of the places he's visited, dusty leather map cases, among other knickknacks. Levon enjoys gathering mementos and souvenirs. He views it as a method of immortalizing the adventure.

Personality:
Anyone who knows Levon well is aware of his most prominent trait. Despite the odds or those who doubt his abilities, Levon is relentless when it comes to attaining something he truly wants. His passion is by far his most influential characteristic. If one were to tell Levon it wasn’t possible, or that he couldn’t do it, he would devote himself to proving them wrong. However, his persistence can also prove to be a hindrance on his judgement, and has a record of pushing things beyond their limits. Some might even call him reckless or stubborn at times. Blinded by passion and drive, Levon can sometimes be unable to step back and see the bigger picture.

Sometimes his headstrong nature prevents him from making peace with his enemies. Levon never forgets a person who wrongs him. In particular, he very rarely forgives trespasses of his trust. Some could attribute this to his unfortunate history, dealing with the loss of his family and near annihilation of his people. Which, in all honesty, is a valid excuse. However, the way he treats those he deems unworthy can be harsh, and even cruel.

Levon isn't always so intense, to those he considers good friends he treats with the highest respect. He will often sacrifice his own time to assist a friend in need. His closest friends will recognize his heavy, wheezing laugh. A stark contrast can be seen between his intensity and the way he relaxes. Levon is also known to have a hearty, although occasionally crude, sense of humor. Should Levon find you worthy of friendship, he will remain a close friend until the end of your days.

One of Levon's favorite pastimes is sketching out pencil drawings of his surroundings. With every journal entry he makes, Levon usually compliments the text with a rough sketch of the location or item he's referring to. Levon is no professional artist, however, it's simply a way of capturing memorable moments. Levon also owns a wooden tobacco pipe he purchased in Istanbul. He smokes quite often, or at least whenever he has access to tobacco. As for alcohol, it might come as a surprise to some, but Levon is a lightweight. It doesn't take long for this seasoned, rugged-looking Armenian to get tipsy and giggly. Levon is a merry, happy drunkard, and usually crashes well before the night is done. His personal taste usually extends to brandy and vodka, but he's never one to shy away from something new. Whether or not he actually remembers trying it; an entirely separate matter.

Skills & Talents:
Levon’s scholarly talents extend to the art of researching and note taking. His records are thorough and concise. He also has the ability to fluently speak four languages. First being his mother tongue: Armenian. Living amid the Ottoman Empire, it was also essential to know how to speak Turkish, especially at the University in Adrianople. The other two were acquired during his years spent with the British Expeditions into Mesopotamia. Gradually, Levon picked up English and Arabic to communicate with his superiors and local laborers. However, Levon can only fully read and write in Armenian and Turkish, and only partial mastery in English.

Levon’s military experiences gave him more practical skills. Firstly, Levon can hold his own in a shoot-out and in close quarters. Levon specialized in irregular tactics. Him and his comrades were capable of taking down numerically superior forces using a combination of hit-and-run and guerilla tactics. Levon prefers to attack his opponent when they are unprepared rather than engage them directly. Being an irregular fighter, Levon needed to learn quickly how to survive out in the field. He learned to live off the land, and understood where best to set up camp. He also acquired a knack for path-finding and understanding where he was in relation to his surroundings.

Levon’s time serving as a forced laborer, while arduous, helped him understand the integrity of earthworks. Trenches, tunnels, ditches, graves. Give Levon a shovel, and he’ll dig you a perfect hole. Who would’ve guessed that one his most unpleasant experiences in his life would’ve helped excel in his area of study later in life.

Background:
Born in 1893, son to an Armenian Officer in the Ottoman Empire, Levon would grow to live a turbulent and uncertain life. He would learn very quickly that his success would depend upon the sweat of his brow and the strength of his mettle. The empire had a long history of distrust towards it’s non-Muslim subjects. Being a Christian Armenian, the circumstances were no different. Levon’s father only acquired his position after the Young Turk Revolution in 1908, where prior non-Muslims were forbidden from military service. However, his father was able to pull strings in order to secure an education for his aspiring son. Levon attended a local school before expanding his education in a university in Adrianople. During this time, Levon developed a personal affinity to the study of history and archeology. In particular, he enjoyed the prospect of mystical artifacts and legends from bygone civilizations. He became well read, and took several language classes. Unfortunately, Levon was never able to complete his education due to sudden change in Ottoman sentiment towards his people in 1915.


The Empire began to suspect their Armenian subjects were traitors and began to subsequently displace and annihilate them. Levon’s family would suffer the same fate. His father was suddenly stripped of his rank and executed under the false pretext of treason. Levon, being understandably stricken by the sudden turn of events, tried to scramble home in order to reunite with his family. He hoped to slip out of the city and flee with his mother and siblings into the Caucasus Mountains. However, Levon was halted by Ottoman authorities and arrested before he could return home. Instead of simply killing Levon, they sent him eastwards to perform forced labor in a Labour Battalion on the Russian Front. From there, Levon and his comrades were forced to fell trees, dig trenches, and other tasks in support of the army. As time went on, the Ottomans began to execute any who appeared insubordinate or unfit for work. Levon knew then that he needed to escape or he’d likely be killed in a hole he dug himself. Levon and a small group of his comrades were able to desert and fled northwards, in hopes of seeking refuge with the Russians.

Narrowly escaping capture by Ottoman soldiers, Levon was discovered by Russian scout cavalry. To Levon’s astonishment these Russians were not Russian at all, they were Armenian. The soldiers informed Levon that the Ottomans were slaughtering Armenians all across Anatolia. From death marches, to forced labor, to a simple bullet to the skull. Imperial Russia, however, was apparently helping Armenians flee and resist. They went so far as to absorb Armenian volunteer regiments into their army. Levon didn’t hesitate to take up a rifle and joined their cause. He felt it was his duty to try and save as many of his people as he could. Most of all, he desperately wanted to find his family. For the duration of the Great War, Levon would fight the Ottomans with the volunteer regiment. He made friends and lost twice as many. He saw the horrors of war up close. Levon would see the worst mankind had to offer. Occasionally, the light of hope would pierce the clouds of doubt. Levon once had his life spared by an Ottoman soldier, even when in all rights the man should have shot him. The war changed Levon, but in a way that made him see the world through a different lens. As for his family, he caught wind of a rumor that they headed south when the Ottomans started taking people. Levon followed the trail for a time but it quickly ran cold. Despite his best efforts, Levon never saw his family again.

After the conclusion of the war, Levon was able to recover what was left of his family’s estate. However, Levon felt there was nothing left for him in Armenia. With his family and friends gone, being home did little to console him. To add insult to injury, it seemed more trouble was brewing within the nation as a whole. The Allies and the new Turkish Nationalists began to fight over what was left of the Empire. Levon decided to leave his homeland in search of better prospects and escape his troubled past. Around 1920, he traveled to Istanbul in hopes of finding better fortune. Although he no longer had enough money nor status to continue his passion for history, Levon was able to find the next best thing. Levon caught wind of a British archaeological expedition bound for Mesopotamia. This would kick-start many journey’s Levon would take in the prospect of discovery. The majority of his exploits would take him throughout Mesopotamia, however he would travel to Greece, Syria, and Arabia as well.

Although at first Levon would work as a simple laborer, his apparent status as an educated individual with a passion for the field caught the attention of the expedition leader. The man’s name was Alby Bennett, and allowed Levon to take a higher position within the expedition. Levon became a supervisor of labor and led exploration parties. Levon would go on to work with the British for the next ten years. Levon took advantage of the knowledge presented to him, and he poured into the study. He started to keep a journal of his escapades and recorded his discoveries. As Levon explored the mysteries of fertile crescent, there was one such place that intrigued Levon most of all. A place that he’d read about in his time at the University and in Bennett's own journals. The land of tombs and kings, and the gift of the Nile. Levon longed to journey to Egypt. And, with the turn of the next year in 1930, Levon would get his chance with a letter from a certain “Curator” of the Carlyle Foundation.

coded by weldherwings.

 

[ACasualBrit]

Rosa Pitt-Rivers

Name Rosalyn Pitt-Rivers
Nickname Rosa, Ross
Gender Female
DOB 08/12/1901
Nationality British

Appearance: (face-claim: Erika Linder}

For someone who descends from British aristocracy, Rosalyn “Ross” Pitt-Rivers is as far from the presentable lady that her mother wished her to be. Her lithe and toned figure resembles more of a washboard than the hour-glass standard that so many men admire. She stands at a reasonable five foot nine inches with broad shoulders and clear-cut collarbones. Her hands – although not weathered like her brother’s – are strong with nails cut shorter than the tips of her fingers. For practical reasons, she says, but without the manual labour. Her fair skin catches the sun surprisingly well and tans to a light caramel, contrasting her bright blue eyes. This combined with the strikingly dark pigment of her hair creates an array of hues that blend together to make a somewhat attractive person.

Some people have said that the doctors had mistaken her gender at birth for her facial structure resembles that of her father’s than her mothers, with a strong jawline and thick brows. If her natural features weren’t enough to cause discomfort amongst the cynical, Ross hasn’t worn women’s clothing since her thirteenth birthday. It started with her stealing some of her brother’s Sunday shirts and quickly led to her collecting men’s clothing until she had her own wardrobe. By the time she was fifteen, Ross had started wearing male assigned clothing full time, much to her mother’s dismay.

Nowadays, Ross is able to buy her own clothes with her family budget. Instead of dressing in ill-fitting slacks, she has tailored suits and crisp shirts with starched collars. One suit in her collection could feed a family for more than a week but instead sits lovingly in her closet. Of course, she has clothes that are less flashy, and she can usually be found wearing a casual pair of pants with a shirt and suspenders.

Personality:

Ross has always been the black sheep of her family. With her mother’s side being strict conservatives and her father’s side being dedicated to science and discovery, she found herself falling somewhere far away from the spectrum of characters. Even her brother quickly learnt that his little sister was a stain on the family tree. The isolation made her stronger and more determined to prove a point to anyone that claimed she was anything less than she believed to be. So, when a young visionary became her tutor, she latched onto him as her liberal ideas blossomed.

You could say that Ross is stubborn, but she finds herself constantly fighting to prove her worth even when nobody doubts it. A narcissist behind a rebel’s exterior, she always holds a confrontational bite at the tip of her tongue. Her frequent contact with revolutionaries sparked a fire in her that defies any authority figure, coming across as brattish or heroic depending on the crowd.

Quick to start a fight, Pitt-Rivers doesn’t have the instincts to know when to quit and this has landed her in more trouble than the argument was worth. Her once immaculate skin is littered with discolouration from bruises that never quite healed properly and a scar that goes from her hairline to the base of her temple from a run in with the Okhrana. This is yet another reason for her family to lecture her whenever she comes back from her time away. However, the hostility Rosa holds for people does not extend to other creatures, in fact, a very compassionate and kind side of her comes out around animals. She has been known to go out of her way to make sure a stray animal has food and water and quickly took to her father’s dog, Raptor. The two became inseparable when Rosa returned from Berlin and the connection remains unbreakable.

If you asked her, Ross would say she had nothing in common with either of her parents. Yet this isn’t true. Much like her father and grandfather before him, Ross inherited a need to know things. As much as she will deny it, this boisterous woman will go to extraordinary lengths to find something out, even when she stands to gain nothing from it. Upon discovering some of her grandfathers’ journals and attending events at his museum, Ross felt the urge to understand more about the world of archaeology and study.

Background:

Born to the noble Lane Fox Pitt-Rivers family, Rosalyn was expected to become a stunning member of the British aristocracy. Like her mother before her, her duty was to carry on the family name and provide companionship to another wealthy member of the British elite. At first it seemed as though this was on track to become a reality, with her hobbies developing in horse riding which later blossomed into early racing.

As her family’s wealth allowed, Ross grew up with a top tier education, learning how to read, write and even exceed many of the boys in her class. Due to her ability to take on academia better than her classmates, her father decided to extend her education beyond the normal level for girls her age. She attended boarding school until the age of thirteen when an altercation with other girls in her dorm had her “removed” indefinitely. This was the start of her downward spiral to irreverence. Despite this, her father hired a private tutor who became the main role-model for Rosa’s character.

Eugene Daniels was a left-wing activist who worked as a private tutor for the Pitt-Rivers family without their knowledge of his involvement in moving people out of Russia to the UK. He taught Ross about Marxism and the freedom of the working class. The two spent a lot of time together traveling throughout London as part of Ross’s education and eventually leading the family to believe there was something less platonic going on. However, it wasn’t until Daniels suggested that he take Rosalyn on a trip to Russia in 1916 that the family began to ask questions.

The teacher and his pupil arrived in Moscow in the summer of 1916, and Daniels wasted no time in introducing Rosa to others that followed his ideals. They spent time between the ballet and hidden gatherings of those interested in the Bolshevik movement. It seemed that they would get away with their stay but back in England, her mother grew suspicious.

The fear of one of their own getting involved in the communist uprising in Russia put Ross under surveillance and even though she and Daniels arrived in Moscow safely, it wasn’t long before they were ambushed. Not even a week into their stay, the Okhrana stormed the house where they had been gathering, resulting in the arrests of everyone Ross had interacted with. Rosalyn was detained and carted back home with an escort while Daniels was hunted down and tortured for his involvement of the brewing revolution.

Back home, Ross was isolated to the estate until her family agreed that the “communism had been starved out of her”. She was finally able to do her own thing and her father took time out of work to support her since the family trust had broken down. It was this time that a young Rosa finally felt that she connected with her relatives and the legacy of her grandfather seemed to be passed down to her.

She studied sociology, psychology and history. The archaeological methods her grandfather had developed became like second nature and the thirst to travel became stronger with each passing day. Much of Augustus’ work focused on African artefacts and old maps that told stories of much more valuable pieces in Egypt. Unfortunately, he had passed away before getting a chance to take on such a substantial expedition.

For the next few years, Ross studied up on Egypt while following her mother’s direction back into the world of racing and aristocracy. She began living a double life away from her family once she turned eighteen, with the rise of the suffrage movement reigniting old rebellious flames. This went on for years until she decided to take her work to Germany in 1919 and visit the city of Berlin. It was while here that she joined the researchers at the Institute of Sexology, uncovering the science behind her own sexuality as well as the liberating understanding about the human body. Her work saw her move deeper into medical science and how it worked with the mind to create the world she lived in. It was a wild time between the progressive nature of her work and the irreverent city life that allowed her to finally be herself. Berlin felt more like home than Britain ever did, and she wrote to her father every week to tell him about the work she was doing at the Institute.

When word about the enfranchisement of women over 21 in Britain reached Berlin, Ross wasted no time in travelling back to help with the final push to parliament, much to her mother’s disgust. By that time, Ross refused to hide her true-self and waved her independence in her mother’s face. Her brother – a soldier in the British army – was as stubborn as their mother and once again, a great rift tore the family apart. Mrs Pitt-Rivers gave her husband the choice to either disown Rosalyn or see her and their son move back to the country without him. Choosing to support his daughter, Alexander Pitt-Rivers and his dog Raptor stayed with Rosa in London. Together they celebrated the victory in 1928 when the law was passed, granting women the same right to vote as men.

The celebrations were short lived when Rosa’s father was diagnosed with a heart condition that saw his health plummet drastically in the space of a few months. The family were reunited over his final resting place in the winter of 1929. To the family’s shock, the majority of the family fortune was left to Rosalyn, along with her grandfather’s entire life’s work and of course, the loyal hound, Raptor.

With no ties to the UK left, Ross realised that her life was finally in her own hands. She bought a spot on an expedition to Egypt and packed her bags, ready to branch out on her own adventure.

Gear and Equipment:

Unsure what to bring with her on the expedition, Rosa packed her grandfather’s journals and the bundle of small tools that he had left amongst his things. This included some brushes, chisel and a magnifying glass. Not one to enjoy discomfort, Rose brought a few home comforts that would make the journey more pleasant. This included cigarettes, riding gear and matches, as well as various things to ensure Raptor would be just as comfortable. The most important thing that Rosa brought was plenty of money. What she lacked in preparation, she made up for in currency.

Skills and Talents:

Rosa is an academic person. Her life skills may not be well honed but her ability to read or see something and learn about it swiftly has been a gift she believed in. Her education in various subjects means that she has a broad range of knowledge as well as being fluent in German, Russian, French and English. From her time in Berlin, she has a strong medical knowledge as well as psychological knowledge. How much use it would be in an Egyptian tomb is… Debatable.

Since taking on Raptor, Rosa has worked with both horses and canines alike, so she has some very basic veterinarian experience. She adores animals far more than people and has a way of connecting with them.

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