Killswitch
From Changeling Venue
| Seeming | Wizened Smith |
|---|---|
| Court | Autumn Court •• |
| Freehold | Stormwatch |
| Player | Kevin Scheidt |
|
Name: Killswitch * killswitch.graceamazing.com * blog.killswitch.graceamazing.com * radiofreefae.killswitch.graceamazing.com * Take a Tour with Killswitch I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. |
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Contents |
Character
Introduction
10 years. 10 Years can be a millenium. Do you know what's what it feels like. Do you remember them? Her? Him. The... The... eyes. The way they looked at you. They... The watchful eyes. The hours. I worked until I passed out. But that wasn't enough. If you were awake, you were working. But the equipment. It was so.. fine. So unique. So. (sounds of shuffling through a toolbox. And with that, he's off, whizzing around the room with goggles on and doing stuff. The ramblings from this point on are incoherent and useless)
Description
It's neigh impossible to find him without his mask. Or is it a mask? What's more creepy, he looks more human than human.
Mask
Unseen out of his Racing Leathers and rarely bothering to take his motorcycle helmet off, Killswitch appears to be your everyday run-of-the-mill motorcycle racing enhuasist super rich Rocket-Jockey. He looks like someone who could have been a model, but not quite. Attractive, Young Male Rich Kid. He appears short and thin, a little weak. It's obvious that he gains his confidence from racing; more so that it looks as if his big-ass motorcycle is just him over compensating for his shortcomings and weak demeanor.
Mien
His fingers are long and rough. His palms show callousness of hard work and dedication beating out modifications to his bikes he makes for himself and others. A dark wrench of blackened cold-iron hang at his waist, obviously an implement of his craft. A cold-iron crowbar is snugly secured in a patch down his back that he says offers him protection should he wreck. His mask hides his face: It shows a token of fear and hatred, like that of a Scarecrow, just worse.
Mantle
An air of death follows him: instilling a fear in those around him like that of a farmer watchig his crop die to an early winter and realizing that he no longer can afford to support his family and kids who will likley die in the upcoming harsh winter that follows. Grass appears to wither and wilt as he walks over and dead annuals of various types fill his footsteps as he walks. A cold frost like a Ghost has been here settles on mirrors and objects that are reflective that he touches. It always smells the same around him as a humid air thick with signs of a coming rain that never actually happens.
Mannerisms
Background
Do you remember what it's like to be normal?
That must be nice. I wasn't ever normal. Or at least that's what the rest of the world would have you believe. We were poor. My parents, what I remember of them, were not well off at all. Father worked hours at the plant. He would come home just in time to take a bath, wash the soot off him, and then leave. The soot, the black, it never left. Its smell got in your nose. It suck there like "a fly on shit" he would always say. Or did he? No matter, in the door and out the door. He didn't even bother saying bye. When he was done at his second job, he'd come home, at what seemed just in time to get changed and head back to the plant. Or was it his third job? This thing, this depression, they called it. We had nothing. We would never have anything. We were poor. But dad, he had a plan. He had a purpose. He was saving up to buy something called stocks. He was saving up money between mom's drinking and their arguing. He was saving up money between his drugs and his job. Between my need for shoes and a haircut. He was so proud the day, what was I. 12? 10? He bought the stocks. He was so proud putting them in the bank. The security deposit box. He said 20 years. 20 years and they'd be worth something. He even paid the box for 20 years.
20 years. 20 years wouldn't come fast enough. 20 years wouldn't come at all. We were crossing the intersection and the train didn't even blow it's whistle. It was a train, wasn't it? It was big. I was a child. It was huge. It cut the car in half. The way it just ripped it apart like you might break a candy bar open to get right to it. Everything went blank. I had to have been thrown twenty or thirty feet from the car.
I remember their voices. Those dark, confusing sounds. They weren't even voices. They were noises. Like someone coming closer and then further away from you. Have you seen the Moth Man? It's like that. The phone call. What's in my pocket? A stick of gum. That. They got the sound right. I wonder if it was really one of them doing the voice? Inhuman. But their words. Ghosts. "We wanted the worker" "We didn't want his family" "But what about the wife?" "She's dying. In fact, she's already dead" "We've got nothing." "Leave him. Master was specific. He said kill the others, get the Worker. Get the Craftsman."
The thorns. Was I in a briar patch? A Rose garden? The train tracks were only a few hundred feet away. I could still see them. The wreckage of the car. All the parts thrown everywhere. All the blood. Was that my blood? The underbrush. The fog. Was that fog? Was it blood in my eyes? Everything faded. Then there was darkness. Then there was his voice. It was soothing. The way he stood there looking down at me. "You look broken. We will fix you. You broken thing. We will make you better. You will be as your father would have been. We have so much work for you. We have so much work to do to you. I wonder if you will survive?" The way he flipped the coin across his hand. The way he stood. His suit. His hair. He was so handsome. So. He just was. The words, they flowed from his mouth like honey from a jar. And then he grabbed me by my ankle and just ripped me from the thorns. They hurt so bad. But they didn't compare to the pain of him dragging me through more of them. He just walked. The thorns, the bushes seemed to move around him, not even coming near them. But the filled in right behind him. It hurt so bad. I think I left most of my back, arms and legs back there. By the time we reached his castle, I think he was pulling me by the bone of my upper leg. I could see the bones. But his words. They flowed like honey. And I was so happy to go.
And then they fixed me. I was like a toy to them. They replaced my arms. They replaced my legs. They replaced my eyes. My hair. My nose. They rearranged my face. I was broken to them. I recognized something in myself in them, however. As I was broken, but they were broken too. And then he came. And it didn't matter. His words flowed like honey.
I was free to go wherever I wanted as long as wherever I wanted was just my room. This room was at least 50 feet tall and probably 50 by 50 feet wide. Stone floors, stone ceilings, stone walls. Iron door. Like a dungeon you read in books. But you could barely move. Every wall was lined with tools. Floor to ceiling. Ladders everywhere. Tools on every table. Burners and beakers filled the tables. Parts and tools filled the floor. Every crevice had something in it. A jewel. A clockwork. A Gear. Glasses. Hundreds of glasses. The kind you drink from. The kind you wear. There were all tools. Smith's tools. Jeweler's tools. Tailor's tools. If you could name a craft, there were tools. And there were books. Everywhere. And the teachers. They would come. They would show. And I would learn. Learn or Die. He would tell me. His venomous words would flow like Honey. "My pledges have landed you teachers and by your word you will learn. Or you will die". And learn I did. For I wanted to do anything I could for him.
But as I became what he wanted. He expected more. What was his attendance dwindled to nothing more than a note in the floor requesting a object be made. One of my kind would bring me his words. But I would work hours. Hours until hours until hours until I passed out. And then I would wake up and start again. Why? Not because I wanted to. Mind you. I actually hated it here. But there was this one who worked up a contract. Her name was interesting. We call her Engagement. She would write up these contracts. And if you agreed to them, you would get the most wonderful things. But when you actually accepted one, you would realize just how back they were. Their crafty wording. Their deceitful promises. Just this one thing. Nothing really. And you'll get all these wonderful things. And then you'd see the requirement that you complete the task in 1/2 the time you could. Even on the greatest of days with the best of help: If you agreed to 3 days, you got one. And you needed four. You needed help. But help would never come.
But then we escaped. I remember bits and pieces. She came to me. She offered me help if I helped her. Build our vehicles and I could come along. So I built our vehicles of our escape. I made them as fast as I could. I didn't trust her. I didn't trust anyone. And I was right. We were betrayed. I had attempted this many times before. Was it the fifth? Was it the fifteenth time? How many years had it been? 10? 20? 30? But they had replaced my skin and my face so many times I had no idea if it was one or 100 years. Hours were minutes were days were years. I would work 5 days straight and pass out. Or was it 5 hours? But we tried. A bunch of them died. We were in two cars. We were driving fast. I knew he would be coming. I knew someone would be coming to get us. It was us or them. I didn't have a choice. One of the cars broke down. I know why, but I will never tell. There were six of us in our car. Only three of us have gotten out. That I know of. I know why. But I will never tell.
Have you ever tried to drive a large car through the forest at night at 40 miles per hour? Let's just say that the first car didn't make it was far as I did. I was a better driver. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Someone got scared and tried to jump out. Have you ever jumped out of a moving vehicle, at 40 miles per hour, in the forest, at night? Well, at least that gave us the extra time we needed. Until I hit the tree. I think it took a while for us to get our senses about us. Moan ran off ahead of us. We knew we were near the exit. We knew we were in the hedge. Where did she go? We didn't have time. We had to go. We made our way out. We knew it was just us two. We made a pledge to each other. We made our peace.
We thought we were the only ones that made it out.
What was I to do? I was back.. I was a freak. I felt like no one I was before. My parents were dead. Weren't they? My life was nothing. Meaningless. I had nothing. But weeks later, I realized. I had something. How many years had it been? I had the abilities now. I had the knowledge. And in the mirror, when I saw what they saw, I looked like him. So I took the time, I spent the days awake, learning the computers, learning the way that I learned. I stole the tools, stole the printers, stole what I needed and I made the ID. I made the ID that allowed me to get the ID. I got my certificates. I found the doctor. What a minor favor he required to give me the certificate. Amnesia. A coma at the hospital. I had been hospitalized for 10 years. That is what I told them. That is how much time passed in their world. But I knew I was 30 years older. I looked like him now; to them. So with my IDs and my information, I made my way to the bank. It was still there. It was huge. It was the branch of a big conglomerate now. No matter. Some ground-work got me in. Some paperwork and some phone-calls to the doctor proved I was who I was. Even though I wasn't. But they were there. The stocks were there. 10 years. 10 years they raised in value and split, raised in value and split. A multi-national corporation. They were worth millions. I worked with the bank to cash them and spread them across accounts. You will. No you wouldn't. Be surprised? Nah. The things this guy. His employees. The things they would do for a few hundred thousand dollars under the table.
I bought things. I bought places. Have you seen my apartment? I'll take you on a tour in a moment. We're nearly there. I got my computers. I got my contacts. I started working the scene. The things I can build, the things I can make. I started building people motorcycles. I started making them tricked out cars. I started making the money earn money itself. I stay within the balance. Using the excess interest to pay my bills. And then I make people things. That's And then she came. Engagement gave the call. We went down to meet her. We told her was had happened and how long it had been. I did some investigating and found out where her parents were and what the situation was. I didn't tell her everything. She needed to see. She had to know. Engagement would take care of her for the time. I'd follow her at a distance. I have became good at "trailing" people. The things you can learn just watching tv is great. The actors get it wrong a lot of the time. But given enough movies you can figure out the parts that are right. I can watch 5 or 6 at a time using these glasses. It's called a wearable computer. This apple iPhone is a wonderful thing, given a few hacks and some adjustments to make up for their lack of perfection. But I would follow. And follow I did. She went back. We knew some jail time would be nothing for her. It never is. There's nothing they can do to us that them never did better. Worse. But she went back. She wanted to fit in. And then she saw that she was no longer her and they were only interested in the "Real" her, not the her that she was not. So she killed herself. And she left. We made her Family. Family takes care of family. I knew she'd never be back. I knew she didn't need that pain. I covered her tracks. It turns out she didn't actually kill herself. She didn't kill her. It was a botched home invasion where the Father, Mother and Daughter of an astute family were killed. The murder was never found. They didn't have much to go on. The fire took care of that. I wasn't worried. I'd never think of it again. I would never tell.
We were family now. We had our Dark Secrets. We had our pledges. Never again would we betray each other. What do we do? We do what we must. Have you ever seen a dark motorcycle pull up to you at night and you were scared? Did you feel that, did you believe that the person was just toying with you. Riling up your emotions to cause you fear? Did you ever catch that glimmer out of the side of your eye like someone was watching you? Investigating you? If it wasn't me; you were wrong. It was. I have my hobbies. I build things. I make things. I fix their imperfect toys. I make them better. I protect us. I do what I must. I will never tell. I told you. You're my friend... right?
Organizations
Character Inspiration
Inspirations
- Mothman
Soundtrack of the Soul
- Nine Inch Nails
- Year Zero
- Specifically: My Violent Heart
- Specifically: Survivalism
- Year Zero
- Orbital: Halcyon + On + On
- Killswitch Engage
- As Daylight Dies
- Specifically: Unbroken
- Specifically: My Curse
- Specifically: This is Absolution
- As Daylight Dies
- Depeche Mode
- A Pain that I'm use To.
Quotes
"I got my violence in hi-def ultra-realism. I got my Wrench. I got my Pen. I got survivalism."
Tie-Ins
I welcome any suggestions for character tie-ins including Allies, Acquaintances and Advesaries. Feel free to place yourself in my history anywhere you like. I only ask that you send me a quick e-mail to kevin.scheidt@gmail.com just to let me know.
- Acquaintances will generally be individals with which Killswitch provided information for.
- Allies would most likely be individuals with whom Killswitch has become very well Acquainted.
- Adversaries are unlikley.
Specific Tie-Ins
- Killswitch made you a New Identity (Level 4 included)
- Killswitch built you a motorcycle
- Killswitch built you a wearable computer
- Killswitch crafted you a unique and rare item (Such as a Cold-Iron weapon)
- Killswitch made you Hedge-Spun armor
- Killswitch investigated your Fetch for you
- Ruined your Fetch's credit, financial life, anything that didn't require interaction with your Fetch.
Rumours
(Fill free to add your own Rumors and Lies)
- Actually betrays other changelings to his Keeper to keep his Keeper's Promise
- Sells Cookies for Longinus breakfast cereal
