DeletedUser25825
Little Rain Cloud walked quietly upon the earth. She looked up at the cloudy night sky, barely able to discern her precious stars, but the glimpses she did catch through the cloud breaks were enough to speak to her. It was getting close to the time, and she was not far away. The only sounds that were her companions were the buzzes of night insects, the distant cries of her cousin the coyote, and the rattling of the stones and shells on the end of a decorated staff she used as a walking stick. She had been following the trail for two long days, not stopping for rest, food, or water, as she prepared herself ritually through sacrifice for the task ahead. She silently marched onward through the plain toward the spot she was now drawn to.
With the further aid of another break in the clouds, and the full moon being hidden behind them, she saw it. It was not very big, easily missed if you were not looking for it. It was barely more than a gentle rise on the flat plain, and yet the forlorn patch of hurriedly dug dirt was all that marked a sad, and lonely grave. Little Rain Cloud walked cautiously toward it, her sharp eyes searching the area as she moved silently onward. She stopped at the base of the grave, and looked down at the freshly tossed earth. She looked up at the night sky, and then around the area. It would not be long now, and she needed to prepare.
Little Rain Cloud hurriedly gathered twigs, underbrush, and other combustible materials, until she had enough to form the makings for a small fire. She always found comfort in its warmth, and more importantly it completed the elemental circle. She squatted next to the pile and struck two pieces of flint together several times, until a spark fell into the dry tinder. She leaned over and gently blew the fire into existence. She looked back at the grave, and the now eerie shadows dancing across it, which were caused by the flames licking over the larger wood she fed into her fire to create a strong blaze.
She moved to the grave, and studied it silently for many long moments. She finally looked into a satchel she always carried, and withdrew a stoppered animal skin. She pulled the plug, and poured a stream of water in an intricate pattern atop the dirt. She returned it to her satchel, and pulled a rattle, with several raven feathers attached to it, and a black obsidian knife from within. She removed her medicine bag from her shoulder and set it and her medicine staff on the other side of the fire. She tucked the knife into a sash encircling her waist and raised the rattle.
She shook the rattle in a non-rhythmic manner at the grave. She spoke, "Jai mahre anaha. Shae gavagne a pish oloho." She continued to chant the same words of summoning over and over as she shook her rattle at the grave, and began to slowly dance in a counter rhythm around the grave. She continued to dance around the grave, moving quicker and quicker, raising her voice into a high pitched keening chant without words, sashaying her body straight up and then crouching low as she twisted, while her feet pounded a beat onto the earth and her rattle continued to shake counter-rhythmically.
As she danced, the orange flame that seemed to dance with each step she took, took on a paler color, and then changed entirely to an eerie green which flooded the area she danced within. She ignored the fire's peculiarity as she continued her ghost dance. A strong wind whipped up from nowhere, and blew through the plains, carrying a shrill sounding scream with it. As it blew past Little Rain Cloud, whipping her hair and dress with its ferocity, she stopped dancing and stared at the earth. She watched the grave, and soon saw a disturbance. She tucked her rattle into her sash and drew the obsidian dagger. She moved cautiously toward the grave, as more dirt and pebbles tumbled from the top and scattered down the mound.
She stood silently by the grave, watching more dirt become disturbed before finally a pale, fleshy hand burst forth from the center. She stepped back, as she reflexively crouched and brandished the blade out before her defensively. The creature in the grave clawed its other hand out and pulled its upper torso from the ground. It shook its head violently back and forth, causing more dirt to fall away.
Little Rain Cloud saw it was a woman this time, but waited no longer. She stepped up, grabbed it by its shoulder and jammed the blade into the things throat. Little Rain Cloud hissed, "Ah arae con naha watcheheh." The thing coughed black blood into her face, snarled at her and spoke in a grating, unearthly voice before it rattled off with a gravelly chuckle. Little Rain Cloud smirked and touched her white painted fingers to the thing's forehead and spoke a one word command.
The surrounding sounds of the night imploded into an audible, low toned "Whumph" as a visible wave of surging force erupted outward from Little Rain Cloud in an expanding ring, which washed over the creature, the grave, and continued outward. The ring of force caused the vegetation and fire to bend over as it passed, and then straighten as the flame returned to its natural orange color. The surge caused the creature to rock backward violently as the wind picked up immediately, and the shrill scream could be heard traveling away across the plains.
The corpse slumped, as the evil contained within and powering its limbs was vanquished by the diminutive shaman. Little Rain Cloud gently pushed the corpse back into the grave. She stuffed the obsidian knife back into her sash, kneeled down, and began pulling the dirt back over the dead woman. She softly wailed a song filled with sorrow in her native tongue as she went about her task.
When she finished, she kicked the fire out, and gathered her belongings. She sat and gathered the cooling white ash of the fire, mixed it with water, and began smearing it over the white side of her face to clear away the black specks of the creature's vile spittle that had landed upon her. She replayed the event, in which she had been successful at keeping the evil spirit from roaming this time, but there were countless others still roaming freely.
Her thoughts were interrupted as the wind changed, and carried the sounds of raucous laughter and piano music to her. She tilted her head slightly, and walked toward the sounds. She hunkered down lower as she crested the gentle rise, and found she was looking down at a White Man's town. Tombstone, she seemed to remember it being named. She looked at the town in quiet contemplation, as the people within continued on with their late night revelries, unaware of the horror that nearly walked amongst them.
_____________________________________________
The Usual Sam Intro Blather
Ok folks... looks like only three games are being played lately. School ending undoubtedly... but none the less... I've decided to open my journal o' Sam (you know... my notebook crammed with RP ideas and what nots) and pull an oldie, but a goodie IMHO. Now... this premise is not my own at all... and I take no credit for its success or failure as a theme. This story is based loosely on the Deadlands RPG system. Since this is a western themed forum, I figured it fitting... and since supernatural seems to work ok in CS... it's equally fitting. So... read up... hope you find interest and let's see some well thought through characters. Thanks!
The Background Story
This game is technologically and economically based in the Old West around the Mid-1870's in the famous town of Tombstone for the story's start. White man has been actively fighting against the indian tribes, and making more demands of giving up hunting grounds and sacred locations for western expansion purposes. The great indian nations have forgone their wars amongst each other, in order to decide how to best fight back against this oppression, lest they become extinct as a people. The great meeting of the tribal leaders commences. These leaders argue for many days and nights, and no conclusion or settlement can be seen to be forthcoming any time soon. For the people are all their own cultures still, with their own needs, demands, and foibles.
A powerful medicine man of the Sioux, known amongst his people by the name of Raven, gathered several medicine people of the Sioux and other tribes in order to call upon the spirit world to seek vengeance on the white man. This decision was Raven's own, and without the counsel of the leaders. Thirteen shamans of the tribes entered a cave in the Superstition Mountains in Arizona Territory, and only five emerged a week later. Nobody knows for certain what happened at that ritual circle, but the Reckoners have arrived in the world.
Nobody knows for sure what exactly the Reckoners are, but ever since that fateful night... things... have begun to happen. It's said the dead rise, mothers turn bad against their own children and plead no recollection after the evil deed, magic works, miracles happen, Ghost Rock flows from the hills, and darkness has descended. Luckily... the common folk are somewhat oblivious to the whole thing. Sure... Larry went crazy at the bar and killed a man by ripping him from limb from limb after being shot himself... but he was just angry... and he'd been mining all those years... he must have just snapped. It's nothing that can't be explained. Yet it's out there for those who want to see... people who want to hunt it... or fight it... or join it...
The Rules
Every game needs them. Forum and section rules apply as always. No god mode, no meta-gaming, no killing player characters without previous approval by the character's owner, no more than one character per player (except for OP, for continuation of the story dynamic and direction with an indication that the character is a non-player character). This story is OP driven, meaning I'm going to be watching the threads to ensure continuity and staying within rule perimeters. If there's is something questionable, I will notify you politely what I find questionable via PM, and hopefully we can come to a mutually accepted edit to the thread. Other than that... have as much fun as I hope to have!
The Character
I'm hit or miss about very defined sheets I suppose. I still feel very strongly that they help keep players in check by providing limitations to a character, with the hope that god mode and so forth doesn't occur. I'm going to go with a less restricted sheet format this go, and hope that everybody sticks to being the fine ladies and gentlemen I know you are, when playing your character within the story and what not is concerned.
So saying... there is a limitation as to what is allowable for characters. The following classes may be chosen from, and there are no limits as to how many can be in the story. If you ALL want to play gunslingers... well gods bless you... go with it.
Classes
Harrowed : These are the living dead basically. While they exist in the world, players are not allowed them at this time.
Hucksters : These individuals are generally magic users. Now, this is the old west folks, but it's got that supernatural spin. These fellows cast spells (offensive, defensive, boons, and curses) using decks of cards and a lot of luck of the draw. The better the hand you draw... the more powerful the effect. (Of course, we're not sitting at a table playing this game, so the card draws are hard to actually figure out success or failure... but use a bit of imagination with your using magic descriptions is all I ask, and don't continually draw high poker hands or the Reckoning might just happen quicker for you)
Gunslingers : Wooha! Exactly what it says.
Law Enforcment : Sheriff would be for an entire county, Marshall would be an entire town (and limiting potentially so consider that when choosing), and Pinkertons. Pinkertons were initially used on trains and as inspectors of that sort of thing, but this is our game... so let's think of them more as federal level detectives (and most likely to be investigating the supernatural stuff)
Soldier : See gunslinger. Though in all fairness... you don't have to be a gunslinger. You could have been an ammo mule if you want it. If it's in the wars... you can go ahead and do it.
Prospector : It's not gold anymore that's worth something. Well... gold is worth SOMEthing. Now however, it's Ghost Rock in them thar' hills! Ghost Rock derives it's name from the eerie whistling/shrieking the rock makes when it's used as fuel, and because it burns green. Ghost Rock came into being thanks to Raven. It fuels a whole lot of the supernatural things, and also other gadgets and gizmos that are being invented for every day use and for making the better mouse trap. The trouble with Ghost Rock... is it just ain't natural folks. It makes ya loony eventually.
Inventor : Better known as Mad Scientists. These are the folks that take the Ghost Rock, and make something out of it. Most often it's something dangerous... but sometimes good applications are wrought. Horseless carriages, Flying gyromachines, Trains that run ten times faster than steam... that sort of thing. They're also the most likely to be loony fast, as they handle a whole lot of this stuff.
Doctor : Somebody with actual training in making people better. You don't got the training, you're just as likely to kill as to heal.
Blessed : The miracle workers! People of the cloth, who through holy retribution in these times of troubles are able to tap into the greater divine to bring about great, and horrible things. These are dark times... demons openly walk the Earth... and you might be the last step between salvation or eternal damnation. Preach it brother or sister! And if they ain't listening... blow em away with that hog's-leg you got hidden in your bible.
Workman/Citizen/Ranch Hand/Fill in the Blank : Somebody that isn't one of those other things, but exist none the less. It's the old west folks... be creative.
The Dirty Other
Now... this shouldn't be taken the wrong way. I'm not racially slanted, nor biased in any way... however... in this game... the natives are very restless and REALLY not looked upon kindly-like by non-natives. So... player characters are not allowed to be openly Native American. If you want to mix a half-breed into your character... I'll allow it... but careful on that description... or you're likely to be lynched. Any other race? Have at it... this is the west in the great melting pot of the world... you can be anything else.
I guess... since I'm on the whole... it ain't pretty talk... genders. Gender choice MAY very well be looked at differently depending on your character's plumbing. It's a man's world in the west, but the women have their place too. Just don't come crying to me if you want your woman Marshall to have any real manner of respect from anybody that ain't a woman. 'Nuff said.
The Sheet
Name: (What you're known by)
Age: (How old pardner?)
Gender: (What plumbing you got?)
Class: (What do ya do?)
Appearance: (What do ya look like?)
Biography: (What you done to git' you where you are?)
Equipment: (What you carrying in that carpet bag?)
__________________________________________________ _
Name: Little Rain Cloud
Age : Unknown
Class : Sioux Shaman
Appearance : Native American woman of the Sioux tribe. She stands at 5'2" and weighs 100 pounds. She wears moccasins and a deerskin dress, both of which have been dyed dark blue with bead work of silver constellations adorning them, and the pelt of a wolf over her shoulder. Her glossy black hair is adorned with several feathers of the Red Tail hawk. She always splits her face with black paint covering the right side and white paint covering the left side. Her right cheek is painted with three vertical white dots, and her left cheek is painted with three vertical black dots. She always paints her right hand and thumb black, and her right fingers white. She always paints her left hand and thumb white, and her left fingers black.
Bio : Little Rain Cloud is very well known amongst the Native American people, and welcomed amongst all of the tribes, regardless if they are considered friend of foe of the Sioux nation. She is sought and welcomed for her wisdom and guidance in these dark times, for she was one of the thirteen shamans, and the only female, that Raven had called upon the night the Reckoners were unleashed into the world. After that terrible and wondrous event, she is now one of five shamans, who included Raven himself, who walked away from the cave. Of those five, she is the only shaman who remains accessible to the people, the other four having become extremely reclusive and seen extremely rarely. It is said that she possesses greater power than she had prior to that night, and that she seldom roams the plains, but can always be found when sought by those with purpose.
Equipment : Medicine Staff, Medicine Bag, Obsidian Knife
With the further aid of another break in the clouds, and the full moon being hidden behind them, she saw it. It was not very big, easily missed if you were not looking for it. It was barely more than a gentle rise on the flat plain, and yet the forlorn patch of hurriedly dug dirt was all that marked a sad, and lonely grave. Little Rain Cloud walked cautiously toward it, her sharp eyes searching the area as she moved silently onward. She stopped at the base of the grave, and looked down at the freshly tossed earth. She looked up at the night sky, and then around the area. It would not be long now, and she needed to prepare.
Little Rain Cloud hurriedly gathered twigs, underbrush, and other combustible materials, until she had enough to form the makings for a small fire. She always found comfort in its warmth, and more importantly it completed the elemental circle. She squatted next to the pile and struck two pieces of flint together several times, until a spark fell into the dry tinder. She leaned over and gently blew the fire into existence. She looked back at the grave, and the now eerie shadows dancing across it, which were caused by the flames licking over the larger wood she fed into her fire to create a strong blaze.
She moved to the grave, and studied it silently for many long moments. She finally looked into a satchel she always carried, and withdrew a stoppered animal skin. She pulled the plug, and poured a stream of water in an intricate pattern atop the dirt. She returned it to her satchel, and pulled a rattle, with several raven feathers attached to it, and a black obsidian knife from within. She removed her medicine bag from her shoulder and set it and her medicine staff on the other side of the fire. She tucked the knife into a sash encircling her waist and raised the rattle.
She shook the rattle in a non-rhythmic manner at the grave. She spoke, "Jai mahre anaha. Shae gavagne a pish oloho." She continued to chant the same words of summoning over and over as she shook her rattle at the grave, and began to slowly dance in a counter rhythm around the grave. She continued to dance around the grave, moving quicker and quicker, raising her voice into a high pitched keening chant without words, sashaying her body straight up and then crouching low as she twisted, while her feet pounded a beat onto the earth and her rattle continued to shake counter-rhythmically.
As she danced, the orange flame that seemed to dance with each step she took, took on a paler color, and then changed entirely to an eerie green which flooded the area she danced within. She ignored the fire's peculiarity as she continued her ghost dance. A strong wind whipped up from nowhere, and blew through the plains, carrying a shrill sounding scream with it. As it blew past Little Rain Cloud, whipping her hair and dress with its ferocity, she stopped dancing and stared at the earth. She watched the grave, and soon saw a disturbance. She tucked her rattle into her sash and drew the obsidian dagger. She moved cautiously toward the grave, as more dirt and pebbles tumbled from the top and scattered down the mound.
She stood silently by the grave, watching more dirt become disturbed before finally a pale, fleshy hand burst forth from the center. She stepped back, as she reflexively crouched and brandished the blade out before her defensively. The creature in the grave clawed its other hand out and pulled its upper torso from the ground. It shook its head violently back and forth, causing more dirt to fall away.
Little Rain Cloud saw it was a woman this time, but waited no longer. She stepped up, grabbed it by its shoulder and jammed the blade into the things throat. Little Rain Cloud hissed, "Ah arae con naha watcheheh." The thing coughed black blood into her face, snarled at her and spoke in a grating, unearthly voice before it rattled off with a gravelly chuckle. Little Rain Cloud smirked and touched her white painted fingers to the thing's forehead and spoke a one word command.
The surrounding sounds of the night imploded into an audible, low toned "Whumph" as a visible wave of surging force erupted outward from Little Rain Cloud in an expanding ring, which washed over the creature, the grave, and continued outward. The ring of force caused the vegetation and fire to bend over as it passed, and then straighten as the flame returned to its natural orange color. The surge caused the creature to rock backward violently as the wind picked up immediately, and the shrill scream could be heard traveling away across the plains.
The corpse slumped, as the evil contained within and powering its limbs was vanquished by the diminutive shaman. Little Rain Cloud gently pushed the corpse back into the grave. She stuffed the obsidian knife back into her sash, kneeled down, and began pulling the dirt back over the dead woman. She softly wailed a song filled with sorrow in her native tongue as she went about her task.
When she finished, she kicked the fire out, and gathered her belongings. She sat and gathered the cooling white ash of the fire, mixed it with water, and began smearing it over the white side of her face to clear away the black specks of the creature's vile spittle that had landed upon her. She replayed the event, in which she had been successful at keeping the evil spirit from roaming this time, but there were countless others still roaming freely.
Her thoughts were interrupted as the wind changed, and carried the sounds of raucous laughter and piano music to her. She tilted her head slightly, and walked toward the sounds. She hunkered down lower as she crested the gentle rise, and found she was looking down at a White Man's town. Tombstone, she seemed to remember it being named. She looked at the town in quiet contemplation, as the people within continued on with their late night revelries, unaware of the horror that nearly walked amongst them.
_____________________________________________
The Usual Sam Intro Blather
Ok folks... looks like only three games are being played lately. School ending undoubtedly... but none the less... I've decided to open my journal o' Sam (you know... my notebook crammed with RP ideas and what nots) and pull an oldie, but a goodie IMHO. Now... this premise is not my own at all... and I take no credit for its success or failure as a theme. This story is based loosely on the Deadlands RPG system. Since this is a western themed forum, I figured it fitting... and since supernatural seems to work ok in CS... it's equally fitting. So... read up... hope you find interest and let's see some well thought through characters. Thanks!
The Background Story
This game is technologically and economically based in the Old West around the Mid-1870's in the famous town of Tombstone for the story's start. White man has been actively fighting against the indian tribes, and making more demands of giving up hunting grounds and sacred locations for western expansion purposes. The great indian nations have forgone their wars amongst each other, in order to decide how to best fight back against this oppression, lest they become extinct as a people. The great meeting of the tribal leaders commences. These leaders argue for many days and nights, and no conclusion or settlement can be seen to be forthcoming any time soon. For the people are all their own cultures still, with their own needs, demands, and foibles.
A powerful medicine man of the Sioux, known amongst his people by the name of Raven, gathered several medicine people of the Sioux and other tribes in order to call upon the spirit world to seek vengeance on the white man. This decision was Raven's own, and without the counsel of the leaders. Thirteen shamans of the tribes entered a cave in the Superstition Mountains in Arizona Territory, and only five emerged a week later. Nobody knows for certain what happened at that ritual circle, but the Reckoners have arrived in the world.
Nobody knows for sure what exactly the Reckoners are, but ever since that fateful night... things... have begun to happen. It's said the dead rise, mothers turn bad against their own children and plead no recollection after the evil deed, magic works, miracles happen, Ghost Rock flows from the hills, and darkness has descended. Luckily... the common folk are somewhat oblivious to the whole thing. Sure... Larry went crazy at the bar and killed a man by ripping him from limb from limb after being shot himself... but he was just angry... and he'd been mining all those years... he must have just snapped. It's nothing that can't be explained. Yet it's out there for those who want to see... people who want to hunt it... or fight it... or join it...
The Rules
Every game needs them. Forum and section rules apply as always. No god mode, no meta-gaming, no killing player characters without previous approval by the character's owner, no more than one character per player (except for OP, for continuation of the story dynamic and direction with an indication that the character is a non-player character). This story is OP driven, meaning I'm going to be watching the threads to ensure continuity and staying within rule perimeters. If there's is something questionable, I will notify you politely what I find questionable via PM, and hopefully we can come to a mutually accepted edit to the thread. Other than that... have as much fun as I hope to have!
The Character
I'm hit or miss about very defined sheets I suppose. I still feel very strongly that they help keep players in check by providing limitations to a character, with the hope that god mode and so forth doesn't occur. I'm going to go with a less restricted sheet format this go, and hope that everybody sticks to being the fine ladies and gentlemen I know you are, when playing your character within the story and what not is concerned.
So saying... there is a limitation as to what is allowable for characters. The following classes may be chosen from, and there are no limits as to how many can be in the story. If you ALL want to play gunslingers... well gods bless you... go with it.
Classes
Harrowed : These are the living dead basically. While they exist in the world, players are not allowed them at this time.
Hucksters : These individuals are generally magic users. Now, this is the old west folks, but it's got that supernatural spin. These fellows cast spells (offensive, defensive, boons, and curses) using decks of cards and a lot of luck of the draw. The better the hand you draw... the more powerful the effect. (Of course, we're not sitting at a table playing this game, so the card draws are hard to actually figure out success or failure... but use a bit of imagination with your using magic descriptions is all I ask, and don't continually draw high poker hands or the Reckoning might just happen quicker for you)
Gunslingers : Wooha! Exactly what it says.
Law Enforcment : Sheriff would be for an entire county, Marshall would be an entire town (and limiting potentially so consider that when choosing), and Pinkertons. Pinkertons were initially used on trains and as inspectors of that sort of thing, but this is our game... so let's think of them more as federal level detectives (and most likely to be investigating the supernatural stuff)
Soldier : See gunslinger. Though in all fairness... you don't have to be a gunslinger. You could have been an ammo mule if you want it. If it's in the wars... you can go ahead and do it.
Prospector : It's not gold anymore that's worth something. Well... gold is worth SOMEthing. Now however, it's Ghost Rock in them thar' hills! Ghost Rock derives it's name from the eerie whistling/shrieking the rock makes when it's used as fuel, and because it burns green. Ghost Rock came into being thanks to Raven. It fuels a whole lot of the supernatural things, and also other gadgets and gizmos that are being invented for every day use and for making the better mouse trap. The trouble with Ghost Rock... is it just ain't natural folks. It makes ya loony eventually.
Inventor : Better known as Mad Scientists. These are the folks that take the Ghost Rock, and make something out of it. Most often it's something dangerous... but sometimes good applications are wrought. Horseless carriages, Flying gyromachines, Trains that run ten times faster than steam... that sort of thing. They're also the most likely to be loony fast, as they handle a whole lot of this stuff.
Doctor : Somebody with actual training in making people better. You don't got the training, you're just as likely to kill as to heal.
Blessed : The miracle workers! People of the cloth, who through holy retribution in these times of troubles are able to tap into the greater divine to bring about great, and horrible things. These are dark times... demons openly walk the Earth... and you might be the last step between salvation or eternal damnation. Preach it brother or sister! And if they ain't listening... blow em away with that hog's-leg you got hidden in your bible.
Workman/Citizen/Ranch Hand/Fill in the Blank : Somebody that isn't one of those other things, but exist none the less. It's the old west folks... be creative.
The Dirty Other
Now... this shouldn't be taken the wrong way. I'm not racially slanted, nor biased in any way... however... in this game... the natives are very restless and REALLY not looked upon kindly-like by non-natives. So... player characters are not allowed to be openly Native American. If you want to mix a half-breed into your character... I'll allow it... but careful on that description... or you're likely to be lynched. Any other race? Have at it... this is the west in the great melting pot of the world... you can be anything else.
I guess... since I'm on the whole... it ain't pretty talk... genders. Gender choice MAY very well be looked at differently depending on your character's plumbing. It's a man's world in the west, but the women have their place too. Just don't come crying to me if you want your woman Marshall to have any real manner of respect from anybody that ain't a woman. 'Nuff said.
The Sheet
Name: (What you're known by)
Age: (How old pardner?)
Gender: (What plumbing you got?)
Class: (What do ya do?)
Appearance: (What do ya look like?)
Biography: (What you done to git' you where you are?)
Equipment: (What you carrying in that carpet bag?)
__________________________________________________ _
Name: Little Rain Cloud
Age : Unknown
Class : Sioux Shaman
Appearance : Native American woman of the Sioux tribe. She stands at 5'2" and weighs 100 pounds. She wears moccasins and a deerskin dress, both of which have been dyed dark blue with bead work of silver constellations adorning them, and the pelt of a wolf over her shoulder. Her glossy black hair is adorned with several feathers of the Red Tail hawk. She always splits her face with black paint covering the right side and white paint covering the left side. Her right cheek is painted with three vertical white dots, and her left cheek is painted with three vertical black dots. She always paints her right hand and thumb black, and her right fingers white. She always paints her left hand and thumb white, and her left fingers black.
Bio : Little Rain Cloud is very well known amongst the Native American people, and welcomed amongst all of the tribes, regardless if they are considered friend of foe of the Sioux nation. She is sought and welcomed for her wisdom and guidance in these dark times, for she was one of the thirteen shamans, and the only female, that Raven had called upon the night the Reckoners were unleashed into the world. After that terrible and wondrous event, she is now one of five shamans, who included Raven himself, who walked away from the cave. Of those five, she is the only shaman who remains accessible to the people, the other four having become extremely reclusive and seen extremely rarely. It is said that she possesses greater power than she had prior to that night, and that she seldom roams the plains, but can always be found when sought by those with purpose.
Equipment : Medicine Staff, Medicine Bag, Obsidian Knife
Last edited by a moderator: