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The Lord Ruler's perfect capital city, Luthadel, is doing the impossible: rebelling. Skaa half-breeds are being taught the power of Allomancy, something that the Lord Ruler's obligators said only existed in the nobility. The enslaved skaa, with their murderous benefactor, now fight back against a living god's oppression.

So, the Inquisition was formed. The nobles begin to fear assassination from all sides. The times of nobility Mistborn killing each other are over. The Steel Inquisitors look for aristocrat traitors and insurgent skaa, and the skaa try with all their strength to merely survive. The Lord Ruler's perfect Final Empire is slowly devolving into chaos.

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2 replies to this topic

#1 Borborygmus

Nessa's Baywrap

Posted 05 October 2011 - 02:56 AM

Skaa Thug

Player Information
Name/Handle: Hmm…who could this be?
OoC Account: borborygmus
Contact Information: SEKRIT

Character Information
Name: Trevelan (Trev to friends)
Type: Skaa
Age: 38
Gender: Male
Place of Origin: Luthadel
Occupation: Skaa Thug
Relationship Status: Single

-Type: Misting
-Metal(s) Used: Pewter
-Degree of Skill: Advanced
-Status: Hidden

Appearance: Trev is a man of small stature at 5’6’’; he is not particularly large or muscular, but rather nondescript. He has a curly mop of gingerish blonde hair, and a ready smile, though often enough it does not touch his silver-blue eyes. These are always keen and alert, though sometimes, in lighter moments, touched by a whimsical humour. His face, usually unshaven, is a little lean and sharp-featured, and hardened by the three knife scars that run across his left eye and cheek. He has a certain wiry grace of movement, with the suggestion of a dancer in step and gesture.

Special Skills: Tumbling, dance, prestidigitation, arson, hand-to-hand combat
Strengths: Trev is a good friend to have at your back. He is clever within a limited setting – good at tactics, but not a cunning strategist. He can be fairly charming when he chooses to be, with well-trained and elegant manners. He is patient when necessary, and determined.
Weaknesses: Trev is largely illiterate, and has no particular interest in changing that. His vision is also limited; he is much better as a follower than a leader.

Personality: Trev is something of an odd man, with a slightly offbeat sense of humour. He can be a little twitchy at times, with strange habits such as refusing to sit in the center of a room, and insisting on keeping a wall to his back and an exit nearby instead. He seeks out others, and does not like to be alone, but hides a deepseated fear that those he cares for will come to despise him, and leave him behind. While appearing strong and independent, if he does not have something to hold him back, he tends to drink heavily.

There is a balance of tenderness and cynicism in him; he has learned to distrust the world, and there are very few people he is really close to. However, he has a deep well of compassion in his heart, and will offer help, empathy, and understanding to those who need it, even while keeping himself a little closed-off. His loyalty cannot be matched, once earned, and he will stand behind a friend through anything.

He has an implacable and burning hatred of the nobility, which he has forged and refined into a determination to see the Final Empire fall. His life is dedicated to the Rebellion. Through the Rebellion, he has also made his closest friend, the man named Ignas. Ignas was the man who found him in Luthadel, and pulled him up from the thieving crews into a greater cause. Trev would die without question for Ignas, and follows him with unswerving loyalty; where others in the Rebellion sometimes wonder about Ignas’ strategy, Trev is perhaps the only one who trusts him completely.

Trev is enormously fond, oddly enough, of the small ferret that he keeps with him, and inventively calls Ferret. Or sometimes Creature or Little Vermin, since it answers to any and all of them. He has a sympathy for animals in general, in fact, taking comfort in their company; animals do not judge, betray, or lie. Ferret is the ear for all of Trev’s secrets, even the ones he doesn’t dare to trust any other person with.

Trev, as many half-breed noble children, was born the child of a skaa whore. She was a particularly large woman – the brothels catered to all tastes - and was able to conceal the pregnancy until the child was born one day, without warning. Holding the newborn Trev in her arms, she recognized the eyes of one of her most common noble clients looking back at her, and knew she had to find some way to get rid of him. She slipped the infant to a friend of hers, along with a few boxings, and Trev was spirited away with no one the wiser in the brothel, except for his mother, who took her secret to the grave with her a few years later.

The child grew up among a collection of skaa orphans, a little crew of ragpickers all raised by the same skaa couple. They gave him as much care as they could, but they were overwhelmed by the needs of all their children, and Trev went hungry and half-naked most of the time, scrounging in the streets for whatever he could find and fighting with his adoptive siblings over scraps.

One day, however, things changed. Trev caught the eye of a brothel owner, a nobleman who picked him out of the little mob of children by his striking eyes; he saw a promise of beauty in the child’s features. Trev was snatched up, and though the skaa couple searched for a little while, they did not look very hard; they had too many things to worry about. He fought tooth and nail at first against his kidnappers, but very quickly found that his new situation seemed to be much better than what he had left behind.

A grubby urchin was not what the brothel needed, so before anything else, they set to feeding Trev properly and cleaning him up. He filled out from the thin little creature he had been, and when washed proved to be a delicate and pretty child. He was taught to dance and to speak more elegantly, along with other graces meant to please the noblemen who were interested in young boys. Trev did not fully understand what was to happen to him; all the young boy knew was that he was no longer starving or cold. He believed the brothel was paradise itself.

Then he was sold for the first time. He was eight years old.

There were always certain noblemen who were more interested in young children than in the services of the adult prostitutes. The brothel keepers tended to like this sort of client. There were never any troublesome pregnancies to worry about, the Inquisition was never breathing down their necks about these. When Trev saw the man who had bought him turn the key in the lock, that was when he began to be afraid. He had not liked him from the start, had instinctively distrusted the look in his eye, but he had done as he was told and gone in quietly. He had backed away, his skin crawling with the awareness that something was very wrong, but the man came after him and cornered him easily.

Trev had been hurt before, he had been afraid before, but he had never experienced anything like the terror and helplessness he felt during that assault. In desperation, he discovered something, a waiting power within him that gave him a sudden rush of strength. He was able to throw the nobleman off, but the power deserted him after only a scant second, and then he was caught, and pinned, and the nightmare continued.

Afterwards, for his failure to cooperate, Trev was beaten by one of the brothel overseers in order to teach him a lesson in compliance. The noble had complained that the boy fought too hard, and it had been a less than satisfying experience. In lesson after painful lesson, Trev was taught that there was no escape. He learned to distance himself, to escape into a separate world in his head while things happened to him.

Trev had not given up, however. Somewhere beneath his external cooperation, the boy held onto a core of hope that one day he would break out. He was a survivor, not a victim. When he began to play with fire, no one realized what it meant for him. It seemed to the brothel owner like a useful skill, one that would appeal as a performance art, and so he was not stopped. Trev liked fire. It was afraid of nothing, and it would destroy anyone who tried to touch it. Trev learned tricks over time, ways to manipulate and play with it; he burned himself many times, but it never stopped him from his pursuit. He even taught himself to dance with fire, and this proved very popular with the visiting nobles.

He began to understand that he had a gift, as well, a hidden store of strength that would help him at times to heal faster, to withstand pain, to move with greater speed and strength. Trev had seen Allomancers many times, sometimes dealt with them, and he was able to work out that he, too, was a Misting – one that could burn pewter. All he needed to do was get his hands on enough of the metal, and that would be his key. He was fifteen when he saw his chance; a noble Thug had paid a visit, and Trev lifted the vial straight out of his pouch.

That night the brothel burned to the ground. Most of those inside managed to escape, but the businessman who owned the place was found in the ashes afterwards, a charred corpse recognizeable only by the signet-ring he wore.

Trev had disappeared. But there was always work for a skaa Thug in one thieving crew or another; with a little hard searching, he was able to find a place. This was his best way of striking back at the nobles, and Trev found a sense of satisfaction in the work. Unlike many Thugs, he was never the sort to build himself up to a massive size, and so he had more flexible uses than the obvious enforcers. Trev had the ability to blend in, and even had a good grasp of the manners of the nobility.

Not long after he’d taken up this new path, Trev’s life was in for another change. He was working for another job, waiting in position for a dry run of the crew’s latest plan, when he stumbled across a scene common in Luthadel. A nobleman had a skaa girl pressed up against a wall, his intentions obvious. It might have been a common crime…but this time, Trev was there to stop it. Dealing with the man was easy enough, hidden as they were in the mists. The problem was what to do with the girl, afterwards. She was half-starved and almost as afraid of Trev as she had been of the nobleman.

It took him a while to convince the terrified girl to come back with him to his place in the crew hideout. Trev gave her something to eat, and comforted her as best he could; he learned that her name was Kendrys, and that she was his own age. Somehow, she ended up staying with him, and Trev found himself gradually drawing closer to her. She was softhearted, and kinder than anyone he knew in the harsh life he had chosen. Gradually, over the next two years, Trev came to trust Kendrys and to care deeply for her. She was the first and only person he told about where he had come from, what he had been through. He was afraid that she would be disgusted, that she would see him as shameful, somehow.

Instead, she reached up and kissed him, telling him that she loved him. One thing led to another, and Trev learned what intimacy really was meant to be, not an act of violence but one of joy. They were married soon afterwards. The two of them were the happiest young couple in the world for a time, and before long, Kendrys was pregnant with his child.

Things changed with the pregnancy. As her belly grew larger, Kendrys began to change. Despite all Trev’s attempts to comfort or amuse her, she was listless and sad, and there seemed to be a distance growing between them. Kendrys would not tell him what was wrong, and sometimes she refused to talk to him at all.

Then one night he returned to the hideout to find their small room turned upside down, everything that one person could carry taken, and Kendrys had vanished. Although he tried to track her down, he could find no trace of where she had gone. He never understood why she had left him.

His life seemed far emptier after that; he simply continued in his usual patterns, trying to find some kind of normality. Without Kendrys, though, the world had lost much of the colour that it had gained for that short while. Trev was close to no one else; he got along with the rest of his crew, but they were only comrades, not friends. He kept on searching for his wife for several years, but he never found even a whisper of where she had gone, and after a time he had to accept that she was never coming back.

Grief did not stop life from going on. After several years had gone by, during which Trev moved from place to place, never staying anywhere very long, he found himself in the crew of a man named Klyde. Klyde had bigger ideas than most of the men Trev had worked for. He was far younger than Trev, but he was a capable leader, and Trev needed someone to follow. He was tired of the small-time business, and wanted to strike in some significant way against the nobility.

There was another undeniable attraction in Klyde’s thieving crew, too; a pickpocket named Kara. She was a few years younger than Trev, but the two of them were drawn to one another. It seemed wrong, to let himself fall for Kara when he did not know where Kendrys was…but his head was in a whirl and he hardly knew what was happening to him. It was never the same as it had been with his first love; it was a very different kind of relationship, much more based in the physical, yet Kara had Trev wrapped around her little finger. He ended up marrying her, and thought that he had captured happiness again for a little while.

Two months after they were married, she had left Trev for Klyde. She was tired of Trev, she told him; he was too old, too dull and boring. How could he have expected a girl like her to stay with him, she asked when he confronted her about it. Their marriage…what did that really matter, a few words in front of a couple of skaa witnesses? It had been a mistake. She loved Klyde; he was right for her, and Trev was every kind of wrong. And she would not come back to him.

By this time, Trev would not have taken her back, even if she would have returned to his side. He knocked Klyde flat before he left the thieving crew, but he walked away from the man feeling more contempt even than anger for both Klyde and Kara. He did not care where they went after this; he knew that Klyde would leave Kara himself, sooner or later. The crewleader was in and out of every woman’s bed that he could get into, and her charms would have no power to hold him.

It did not make it any easier for Trev, and he found it hard to care where he went, either.

Trev sought out another place, once again returning to his transient lifestyle. He even took on a few more ordinary jobs, working in a steel mill for a short while, until he found a new crew. His career seemed to be cursed with bad luck, however. Two months into his time with it, the crew was attacked by a mistborn. She was barely more than a girl, but she tore through their hideout like a weasel in a henhouse. She was looking for the crewleader - Trev stood up to claim command, in order to give the real leader the time to escape from the burning house. The girl slammed him against a wall and raised a knife to his face, but Trev’s sudden flare of pewter took her by surprise; she missed his ear, and slashed at his face instead, and Trev broke loose to escape into the mists. He had no idea what had happened to the others in his crew.

He was rootless, until he was picked up off the streets by someone who’d heard that Trev was a useful kind of man. It was a while before Trev was able to figure out the nature of the shadowy organization he was getting drawn into. He was tested, first, to see if he was reliable…and then he met their leader. Ignas bore the tattoos of an Obligator, but he preached a message far different from the Ministry’s. Ignas was leading a revolution, and he wanted Trev to be a part of it.

Trev had been lost, without family, friends, or a cause to follow. Ignas had finally given him the purpose that he had been searching for his entire life – the chance to get revenge against the Final Empire. Ignas himself had no close friends in the rebellion; he kept himself distant from the men that worked for him. Both men had a fascination with fire. All of this ended up drawing the two men into a friendship. They were bound more closely over time as they worked together for their common cause. Trev came to regard him almost as a brother.

He was placed, eventually, in charge of security on one of the rebel cells, this one in a brothel. Trev did not care for returning so close to what he had done before, but this was different. Every man and woman in the place was there for a reason; for now, they simply lay low and spied on the nobles that came to pay visits. One day, they would do more. For now, Trev followed the orders of the woman who managed the place, the relative inactivity itching at him.

Trev had been in the rebellion for a few months when he saw her. He knew instantly who she was. She had Kendrys’ beauty, but with a trace of Trev in the tint of her hair and the curve of her mouth. She was the age that their child would have been. Trev loved her from the moment he saw her; he had loved her before she was born, and then given her up for dead. Now that he knew she was alive, a part of his heart that he had sealed away came unlocked. This was his daughter, his and Kendrys’ child.

He only watched her from a distance; he did not dare to approach her, or even to inquire too closely. It took him three months to find out her name: Nell. She was working for a nobleman named Lord Tacitus, Trev did not speak of his discovery to anyone, not even Ignas. This was something too precious…and he was afraid of putting her in any danger. He trusted his friend, but if Ignas knew of his daughter…There was a chance she, too, could be an Allomancer, and he knew that Ignas would want to bring her into the fold. They needed more people to help. But Trev could not let her be put at any risk. He would protect her the best way he knew how.

Roleplay Sample
Most pewterarms made the mistake of confusing raw strength with power. They built up their muscles until they were little more than hulking brutes with all the subtlety of a koloss, too easily identifiable for what they were. A man or woman like that could have their uses, but there was a point at which all that muscle simply weighed you down and limited your movement, even with the unnatural speed given by pewter. Most of them couldn't so much as touch their own toes.

Trev knew that power wasn't all about strength. It was strength combined with speed and precision for explosive force, and he could not rely only on pewter for that. Like any thug, he had to train his body, but he focused both on strength and flexibility, working on movements rather than building up muscle groups. He had just spent a good two hours training, and now he was sitting against the wall for a rest and a little water. He had positioned himself to keep both doors to the room in view, the main entrance and the hidden side-door as well, so that he could not be taken by surprise. It gave him a moment for thought as well.

Here in this cell, it was all too easy to let himself go to seed. Ignas had given him little to do, and so Trev had to find ways to keep himself busy. He trained the other skaa rebels under his command, trained himself, tried to forge them into a cohesive unit and prepare them all for...what? For nothing, it seemed sometimes. They were not often called on, and when they were, it was for small things.

All he heard were whispers and rumours of what was going on in Luthadel, nobles' pillow talk that filtered throughout the brothel. What had happened at the Casuana ball, though, that was more than rumours. The rebels had finally made a real strike against the Final Empire.

And Trev hadn't been there. Instead he was here in the rebel brothel, working as a glorified bouncer.

"Sure, it's worth something," he said quietly to the small, slinking creature that came up to him now for a scratch, "but it doesn't feel like much. I could have been there for the assault on Casuana. I would be of use in a cell like that. Here, I'm doing nothing, Ferret...only watching things pass me by. What is Ignas playing at?"

This was always the way of things in a crew, though, whether a thieving crew or the Rebellion. Here, it was even more important that one arm did not know what the other was doing. If they lost one cell, then the others would still be safe. He knew that perfectly well, and that was why he hadn't questioned Ignas' decision. Still, the question remained in his own mind, and he could not really help turning it over.

When the sound of the door opening broke into his thoughts, Trev was on his feet in a half a second, before it had fully swung open. He relaxed as he recognized the woman who came in, though. Daphne, one of the prostitutes. He did not know her on a personal level, but he knew who she was; he kept himself aware of the currents in the hierarchy of the brothel. Daphne was a leader, although he doubted most of those around her were consciously aware of how they deferred to her. If anything ever went wrong and there was a raid on the cell, Daphne would be one of the people he could trust to keep the others calm, and guide some of them to safety.

"No, it's alright. You're not disturbing me. Daphne, right? Anything I can do for you?" he asked.

Edited by Borborygmus, 11 November 2011 - 07:01 PM.

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#2 Chaos

High House Noble

Posted 06 October 2011 - 05:44 AM

I very much enjoyed Trev. Go him, for burning down the brothel :D

This will be fun.

Accepted! Well, you know, pending an RP sample.

#3 Comatose

  • Shard of Brain Inactivity

Looking Good in Red

Posted 15 November 2011 - 12:47 AM


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