Kiki

From Changeling Venue

Seeming	Beast Hunterheart
Court	Summer Court
Freehold	The Freehold of .....
Player	Krista Guthrie

1 Overview
2 Character Information

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Overview

Alias(es): Kiki

Real Name: Sam Rios

Age: 25

Concept: Amazon Leashed

Entitlement:

Physical description: Kiki is a tall and muscular woman that happens to have a light coat of grey fur all over her skin and a wolf's ears and tail, where normally her hair would be is a wolf's ruff and her hands extend into claws instead of fingernails. Her eyes are the disturbing yellow found in wolves, and her face is slightly distended towards the shape of a muzzle. When she smiles it's obvious she has a jaw of fangs, not teeth.

Relevant Mechanics:

Character Livejournal:

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Character Information

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Known History

Basic Timeline:

Current Activities:

Merit Details:

Background: **This is to gather interest for background ties only!!! This is not known ICly to ANYONE (yet). She had seen perhaps thirty six seasons as they counted such things and the morning could barely be seen through the fog covering the ground. The horse beneath her was young, strong, and skittish - seeing monsters in the fog that even the young woman, already reckoned a warrior, could not imagine. Not yet. As she reached the edges of her clan’s territory, she heard horns and the baying of hounds coming from far off into the woods. Both she and the young mare stood their ground, breaths steaming into the morning air as one held onto axe and shield while the other put hoof to earth in defiance.

From the woods and over a hill streamed wolves and dogs alike, a horse with serpentine neck and fangs ridden by a man so beautiful and savage that he couldn’t be human. A word hissed across the open field between them faster than the fleet hounds could run. It crawled over their skin and tried to touch their hearts and minds with its message. Run. Flee. Cower. The girl, reckoned a warrior, tilted her chin up in defiance as the mare reared with fore hooves striking at the air and screamed their challenge to this otherworldly threat. Entire civilizations feared her and her mothers, and she would not cower before one man and a few wild dogs – no matter their fearsome appearance.

As they must, the two sides met and clashed. The mare jumped and kicked out and hounds yipped and growled in turn while the woman spun her axe to attack this or that bit of flesh while her moon shaped shield blocked leaping fangs with great ease. A few moments at most was all that it lasted, but in the end the two women stood in a circle of dead and dying dogs with blood dripping from their weapons while the surviving mutts withdrew and limped away. The unearthly man had stopped twenty paces away and his mount continued to snake its head back and forth along its serpentine neck, fangs snapping at the air. A few moments of tense silence as the two mortals fully realized their peril, and then with a yell they charged the man, each taking a swing as they passed, and then were away, running towards the far village and others who were known as Amazons.

Suddenly, where it shouldn’t be, sprang a briar patch of immense height and width. It was too tall and wide to jump and it was too long to run around, and so the brave two dove into it and pushed through. Thorns snagged and tore at their flesh, leaving droplets of bright red blood behind them. Another thorn digs deep into the warrior’s side – tearing away more than just flesh, tearing away pieces of me. It…fades. I cannot remember more – but that is the earliest of my memories…and one of the few that makes any sort of sense.

After that I am the same, but different. An older woman – some eighteen years as they were tracked then and wearing more armor with sword and shield this time – and I wore a rope around my neck. The enemy was many this time and they gathered outside the walls of my city. My sisters and I lined the walls along with our children to defend our homes and lives. The rope was so that I could not be taken alive, as a Princess of Sparta I would never surrender, I would never quit, I would never stop fighting and so I showed that to my people and my enemies with the rope. I could hear them beyond our walls. Talking, yelling, jeering yells of what they would do once the gate was destroyed. Fools – they had never met Spartan women.

It’s said that we Spartans were descended from the union of Hercules and Hippolyte, the Queen of the Amazons. We women have always learned the ways of battle to honor her, and to honor the Spartan way of life. I remember the gate breaking and the battle becoming horribly fierce – and as I ran through an alley to join another cluster something grabbed hold of the rope around my neck and jerked me backwards, the last thing I felt before darkness took me was thorns, so very many thorns.

Next I remember I was digging a splinter – or was it a thorn? - out of one hand as my daughter brought full quivers of arrows to my wagon. The enemy had a name this time and that name was Rome. It had come to take our freedom and land from us, thinking for some reason that we would give in without a fight. They must not have heard of the Cimbrians. First our husbands and sons took the main field, with the women and children following in our wagon-castles. The battle was fierce and the Romans had numbers and skill, but no heart. We fired arrows from the wagons with precision and so very many Romans fell even as the battle turned against us and our men finally sought to surrender the day. Surrender to the Roman scum that spread across the world and stole people as well as gods? Never! I and several of the other women took up our swords and ran across the field to the side of our men whom we loved so dearly. We threatened our sons, our lovers, and our fathers – surrender this day and find no succor at home. And so as a clan and people we fought. When the men lost we slew our children and dressed ourselves in the blood and tears of our family as we defended our freedom with our very last breath. It grows dark again, but all I can think of is how odd it is to have a thorn shaped sword.

My next clear memory is of a burning, painful sensation – then a crack and I remember…the Romans. They ignored my husband’s will and took my daughters to be plundered while I stand tied to this post so they can put the lash to my back without my sword going through their yellow bellies. I stood tall and strong until the memory blurs a little and I can feel the shock travel through me as my knees strike the dirt, blood trickling down my back and thighs. They leave and night falls as my people come back from the woods to comfort my daughters and myself. We had cried our tears for what we had lost and now our hearts were hardened in the drought that strong emotions leave behind.

I spoke to my people and they listened. I wore gold around my neck with wolves’ heads at the ends and so many listened when I spoke – more so when my words were wise. The people gathered and so I led them against the Romans. The Romans who had befriended my husband and my people and then broken our trust in ways that could not be apologized or forgiven by any save the gods. Many battles blur by in my memory, but battles are often remembered as such. Next we met the scum on our final field. I would lead them to Victory. I was Victory. At one point our forces began to flee back towards the wagons that held our children and wounded – and so I began to wade my way to the very center and front – but as I took a step down over a hill it collapsed and I fell into darkness. It seemed as if I fell for many years, but eventually I landed in a tangle of vines and briars and looked up only to see blackness. There was no light here until he arrived. It seemed as if it came from his very being and once I saw him I knew I looked at one of the Others, one of the Tuatha de Danan who had been given the underground half of the isle as their home and were said to possess magic beyond human understanding.

I felt no fear and merely stood warily with sword in hand. I stood firm until he held up his hand to show me something that sparkled, reflecting his brilliance and found myself taking a curious, but terrified, step forward. I saw that it was a jeweled collar, designed to hang from the jaw to the collarbone, with the design of a wolf pack paying homage to their Alpha sparkling from the depths of the jewels. I jumped back, terrified beyond all sense, and the thorns themselves rose up to hold my arms and legs still as he stepped forward to place it about my throat. They dug into my arms as I struggled…so very deeply.

I remember screams next, the primal and terrible screams that one hears when a human soul is betrayed by another and given up to cruelties that people should not be able to inflict upon each other. Smoke then, the smell of it in my mouth and nose and the heat of it pressing into my skin as I realized I was cramped into a small space with bony knees pulled up to my flat chest to keep me from breathing too hard and loudly. Beyond the door I hid behind I could hear grunting and crying – my sister was crying. She had told me to stay hidden and stay quiet and I did, until I heard her last cry end in a scream of pain as steel rang against her spine. I stumbled out of the cupboard, limbs gone numb from the cramped position I had held for such a long time, and all I found was her body slumped against the wall. I ran into the street and found much the same. Mud, blood, smoke and tears were all that was left of my village and family. I fell to my knees and started to cry… I was too young to be strong on my own. That’s when I heard a voice made of sunshine, hope, understanding, and strength whisper through my heart and head. Lead your people. Seek out King Charles and lead his armies to free my people of France. Visions then of what He wanted me to accomplish. I knew at that moment His beauty and compassion, and I gave my heart and soul to Him and His wishes.

I regret no moment of my actions – for they were all to His wishes. An arrow pierced the armor He bade me wear outside Paris, but I knew that would happen too. He had told me and so I did not fear even as the blood bubbled in my lungs. He was there, and so I was safe. Through all the politics of the King’s Court – He assured me it was not my fault. The King let it go to ruin, not I. He still loved me. While I was captured He spoke to me even during the Priests’ questions and so I was safe. They took me to the pyre and as I looked to Him – He abandoned me to the flames. He left me as the fire licked up my skin and hungrily drank of my blood, blood I had spilled for Him! I cried out to Him then, begging for Him to say something…anything to me. No words – the fire stole my voice, and then the blessed darkness pushed me beyond the pain of flames.

Then the heartbeat of fire filled me, the shape of fire filled me, the scent and being of fire filled me until I felt as if I would burst from it. A vision – I sought a vision and dream for my people who were to go and fight the enemy in the morning. We had hunted well, feasted and thanked the spirits for their bounty before I sought another vision to know the will of the spirits. I focused on that, ignoring that I had not eaten for three days and had forgone the feast so that I could search with a pure body and heart. And so I did. I rode on waves of fire and earth while water and air splashed over me from time to time, each commenting in their eternal way as the animals visited and gave their opinions as well. Finally in the end a wolf sat in front of me and looked up with wise yellow eyes, speaking without words. Chief Earth Woman of the Ojibwa – why do you come? I opened my heart and soul to him, showing him my desires and needs – letting Wolf judge my worth of his gifts. It seemed an instant and yet eternity as I waited. You must sacrifice in order to gain. Are you willing? I was, my people were more important than just I. Very well.

Oh Wolf – you didn’t warn me of the pain. It dug into me, so deep it felt like it would pull my spirit out. But in the place where I would say I would have had wounds that would bleed for days there poured in light and strength. Fire and Earth and Water and Air, they were all with me and within me. I did not miss what I had given so very much, knowing that I now held hope for the warriors of my tribe. I woke then to the beating of drums and dancing of my weary people – I knew what must be done, and I was not surprised to find that my palm bled as if sliced by a sharp thorn or fang because it was my sacrifice, freely given, so that I might lead my people to victory. I would go on the warpath with the warriors. I remember leaving with them, still bleeding…and we won – I think. It is fuzzy again and I cannot remember it all. I’m almost certain we won. I have never lost a battle I fought.

I remember that clearly. Almost as clearly as I remember my training. People yelling at me in the background, some in anger and some in support as I practically flew over the course. It was raining, of course, and I could feel my muscles slick with sweat and rain as I pushed myself to make it over one obstacle after another. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t eaten a full meal in two days or slept in three. It didn’t matter that I’d just finished climbing a cliff and hiking over a mountain range under hostile fire. It didn’t matter that over the last ten miles I’d had to carry my buddy – who had dropped from exhaustion and maybe a snake-bite. I could hear Jones wishing for me to fall, so I gripped harder. So damn hard the bar bent and I had time to say “What the fu---?” before I hit the ground and sunk into the vegetation below me. It hurt – not in the “ow that ground is hard” kind of hurt. The hurt of scratches and tears as the thorns dug through my uniform and into my skin. Damn whoever thought to put a fucking bramble patch in the middle of an obstacle course and double damn who put it under the bars.

As I pushed my way out a man stood in the rain and stared at me. I could feel his eyes. His eyes…were so very cold. Must be a Drill not long off the trail or something – whatever, I was definitely not in the mood. I pushed past him and walked towards where I left my rucksack but things jumped from the bushes around me and tackled me. I fought – I know I did because I heard something squeal in pain before they redoubled and tripled their efforts. I was trussed up like a wild animal – and I half felt like it as they drug me through the brambles and branches. I don’t remember much more other than pain, hunger and cold. There was iron around my neck, keeping me to the wall. I couldn’t stand and couldn’t lie down and the cold had crept past what small layer of fat I had left. Out of the fuzzy white loomed a tall and solid figure. The light glinted darkly off as suddenly I heard a snap. The chain fell against my back and the wall in two halves. I didn’t question – I ran. I ran and ran. Felt sharp pain and pushed past. Into the blessed sunlight and warmth, that’s the next clear memory I really have. Warmth and blood filling my mouth in a rather satisfying manner until there are more screams and a chunk of smelly leather hits my back. I growl and hold my kill close as I bound off to finish it peace, followed by screams as I disappear back into some foliage. I remember licking my lips and claws to get every last bit of blood and marrow when suddenly something takes hold of my chain and jerks it backwards – I panic, the Spartans need me – I fight that which catches me and hear the howls of pain as my fangs and claws make contact. Then a sharp pain to the back of my skull, just above my ruff and the darkness sinks close, holding me in comforting oblivion.

Always pain, it seems to spark all of the memories I have managed to keep. In this one I am so very weak, but fighting anyways. I remember that a giant of a man held me far above the ground and his huge arms held me tight, crushing the breath out of me. My claws dig into his ribs and then my vision starts to go black from lack of air. Soon the only light in my vision was what reflected off the giant’s white skin that was near covered in tattoos. They moved, and I remember no more of the horned giant.

More pain and cold followed. Eventually brief moments of love and kindness shone through, but it was short and vague. Most of my memories are. Eventually the cold and pain were few and the content warmth was dominant.

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