|
bookmarks:
|
| main | ongoing | archive | private |
Dayne has a quaint backstory that he loves talking about. His parents sold him into an "apprenticeship" with a craftsman that was typical of the era of indentureship, he was then sold again when he aged out of the blind obedience of a boy becoming a young man in the slave trade, he was purchased along with five other men by a man looking for those fit to fight, was thrown into the arena in ill-fitting armor and survived his first gladiator trials after killing all of the men he was bought with and outsmarting a large cat. Through several trusted hands, Dayne bought himself out of slavery marking the first time he'd been a free man since he'd been a child. He stood outside the city's walls, exquisite cape draped over the metal and leather that had been carefully crafted. He's taken no oaths since only pledged to travel with those he's found favorable. It's taken him years to wash the instincts from his mind but he's calm, quieter, his meals come from where he can earn them and if that's sitting somewhere and singing or lilting for coin then he can accept that. He's still somewhat of a visage of a gladiator, his armor has become more tarnished with the age of great adventures and good stories, the leather long worn through and replaced. Magic is something he's never gotten the hang of, or so he says, but he still commands a crowd to look at a weary, dark-complected man with a sword shaped like those of the fighters and a bowstring that tangled in the slowly unraveling weft of his cape.
Connor was born in the US in the early 1900s to Irish immigrants and grew up mostly poor. He did any odd job that came his way from minor construction to chauffering. His driving was his ticket into the bootlegging underworld after he impressed an unnamed party close to the boss. He rounded off an already-established team that had been pretty successful up to that point. Initially, he kept his head down since they were older and seemed to know each other but it was easy to get used to people you spent time in cramped quarters with. The work kept him busy and occasionally gave him the adrenaline rush a twenty-something male could get used to craving while the social aspect gave him some well-needed structure. Until it all came crashing to a halt on dark backroads. Rebuilding a team after losing a member is hard but the shared injuries needed a lot of persuading. Connor had an idea. Currently, they could move a bit of product in lighter, speedier cars but what if they could move a lot of product right under the law's nose?
__________________________________________________________________
Santa Carla has two main problems, missing persons and vampires. Jon moved clear across the country, upending his dead-end life after dropping out of college which he started late after a gap year that consisted of three years of trekking around the Appalachians to find himself. Instead, he found fallen arches and pneumonia that he never really got over. Santa Carla's weather and tired beach town vibe caught his attention when he decided he needed a change not realizing how many changes he was in for.
__________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________