Papa Dagon
03-29-08, 09:38 AM
[Link to last profile: 'The Odyssey of Papa Dagon' (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=11485)]
Additions marked by a ' + '
Edits are in ' Green '
http://i63.photobucket.com/albums/h158/Necathys/p_Marley_best254195148_std.jpg
Artwork by T.L. Gruver
Name: Dagon Dessalines
Age: 35
Race: Human
Hair: Coarse and coaly ringlets, braided into ropey dreadlocks
Eyes: Tinted a luminous green and set in a surly, gimlet stare
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 188 lbs.
Occupation: Bokor, Witch Doctor
Appearance
Despite his advancing age, Dagon still appears to be in his prime, tall, tan and with a toned musculature. What is particular about his looks is that he wears his hair in dreadlocks that frizz past his shoulders and has a thick yet neatly- trimmed beard. The man seems to be scowling most of the time, which sets his clear green eyes under broad, slanted brows. His usual attire consists of a long, tattered coat, ample enough for him to conceal various objects that are essential to his role as a witch doctor. Beneath the outerwear, he dons a variety of colourful shirts of reds, yellows and greens, while his pants are usually a bland color of cloth and he wears a faded pair of military boots, borrowed from a dead soldier he’d found on a plain. Otherwise, he carries a good number of trinkets, notably wood and bone necklaces as well as straw-braided arm-bands.
History
My old man wasn’t a hero, but he wasn’t a scumbag. Tell you the truth, most I can remember ‘bout him is that he really wasn’t a lot of things. To start, he wasn’t a charitable bastard, that man. He’d only do you a service if you brought him the goods straight up, and even then you’d be lucky if he didn’t take a long drag of his stone pipe and blow smoke rings in your face. Heck, he wasn’t charitable to his own kids, the village lot of ‘em, and that’s only counting those he knew about. Nah, not much of father, but then we weren’t the best tykes around either. Spawns of his loins, apples and trees, like father like son and whatnot.
Can’t say I knew much about him. Still don’t, except that if he’s one thing, then it’s being good at pushing daisies. Damn tombstone’s a colourful hotspot, with more petals at his feet than there were people at his funerals. Can you imagine it? Spent his life sowing seeds, but the only ones with the poor bastard now aren’t even his. I went there to visit him once... wish I hadn’t. I was a curious kid back then and, if anything, he was intriguing dead or alive. Damn, I wish I hadn’t gone, but it’s too late. Now, I’ve got my whole life ahead of me to regret it.
The men of my country tend to die young, but the old man had outlived all of his brothers, all of their sons and most of their grandsons. The villagers were downright clueless as to how he could be so well preserved after the first fifty years, still red and raring and popping kids like mushrooms after the rain. They called it a blessing from above after the next fifty. Called it a curse when the codger didn’t seem like he’d lie down after twenty more. That’s when their tongues slipped out of a century-old tangle, and they started talking. “The Doctor has found the secret of immortality!”
The doctor. Everyone called him that, but I was just a kid then and I didn’t get why. From time to time, he’d treat the sickly, and the few who knew how to rub him right would sometimes get a spoonful of his drops or a smidgeon of his balms, all made from the dead animals and plants he kept in those dusty bottles on his shelves. The whole place stank like stalked rot, as if he’d killed death itself and kept its skull around as some nasty charm. But no, this wasn’t why: they called him doctor for another reason, and I wanted to know.
But why? Why did I want to know so bad about a man I didn’t hate or care for, a man who lived by his own rules, to his own confounding rhythm, unbound by ties everyone else preaches to be the strongest? Family, friendship, love. None of that for the Doctor. After a while, my curiosity turned to fear. I was afraid of the word, and then the nightmares began.
He’d come to me in those, in the guise of a skeleton. Didn’t wear a strip of cloth, a strip of flesh, He was naked except for those strange objects, necklaces, rings, bands and bracelets, stone gewgaws, wooden pendants and straps of foreign leather. They rang, hissed, trilled and clicked with his bones during that dance of the macabre that always lasted through the night. I’d wake up in sweats every time. With each time, the skeleton became the doctor, the doctor became the skeleton. They were the same to me then.
Ignorance is bliss, I know that now. I didn’t, when I broke into his home. I had enough of the nightmares, of the fear. They gripped at me and wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t let go until I damn did something. So I did. I looked everywhere, took out the brains from his jars, the eyes from his earthenware, the plants that seemed to stop moving every time my eyes passed over ‘em. I flipped every book from front to back, made a mess of the whole place while looking for a drop of clarity. Then, I found a whole hatful of it. The old man kept a top hat in box he left unlocked, made of old and shoddily-stitched leather. Can’t say I really gave much of a damn about its quality though. I was a bit too preoccupied by the fact that it was talking to me.
Baron Samedi, it called itself. It told me everything: of those like him, the Loa, the spirits that dwell. It told me of those like my father, the ‘witch doctors’ who were once known as the Bokor. Then, it told me of their – no, our bond. Ours. It was overwhelming, far too much for a boy who only wanted to know things others didn’t. I felt old, aged beyond my time, but not because I was wiser. I was old, because I was already regretting, because I was already yearning for the bliss of ignorance to blind me again.
It told me about immortality.
The next day, I went to my father’s grave, with the Baron in hand. It was the only time I dared go, and I’ll never go back. Not after what I did. The flowers crumpled under my feet, died as I tore into the earth, into his grave, into his death. I tore into everything, and pulled him out. Even after all this time, his skin barely seemed touched by decay, and he looked damn peaceful, as if he’d finally found what he’d bee looking for after more than a century of searching. Seeing him like that, I could’ve stopped right there, right then. But I didn’t. Curiosity had given way to greed, and I regret it now.
I’ve got my whole life ahead of me to regret it.
+ The Odyssey, Prologue: Dagon traveled the world, ending up working part-time as a lounge singer in the Minstrel's Perch. There, he met Molotov, Kyo and the other members of the renewed Bandit Brotherhood, which he eventually joined. They set out to rid the ruins of Aiseirigh of their feral occupants to make the location their new Headquarters. After their success, Dagon returned to his personal quest in gaining power, seeking out the Omeldi Crystal at the side of Caduceus Grimaldi, like him one of the leaders of the Order of the Golden Dawn. During the enterprise, he made the acquaintance of Lasair Anubail, a powerful Fae, as well as Karyna O'Feargail, a tracker that helped them through the woods. He also met with Chromanon Rockskin, who played a critical role in the securing of the Crystal. In the months that followed, he became her partner in a tournament, but ended up fighting against Molotov and Jared Cesarino from the Brotherhood. After the initial awkwardness of the encounter, all four managed a good fight and left the battlefield without any grudges or regrets.
Skills
Loa Empathy – Being a Bokor, Dagon can converse with the spirits of nature and of those who have passed away. Whenever he encounters a natural marker that is deeply linked with a particular Loa, such as a snake for the spirit of Simbi, he is capable of calling upon it to ask for guidance or information. Dagon is not experienced enough to have a Loa ‘mount’ him, that is to say, allow himself to be possessed. If a powerful and usually evil spirit decides to make him its host, however, it will more than likely be successful.
Ritualistic Crafting – Dagon cannot use his powers as a witch doctor without the support of gris-gris, fetishes that he creates to channel to power of a Loa. By using materials that have a symbolic relation to the spirit whose power he wishes to borrow, he can craft a diversity of accessories that will serve as media. All of these gris-gris have conditions set upon them, and the harder it is to fulfill, the stronger it will be. They must all have a weakness as well, in such a way that if a specific action is done to the fetish, then it will become permanently inoperative. His degree of skill is currently above average, and as such the effectiveness of his items will be quite efficient. As such, the more skill he has in this, the stronger his fetishes, old and new, will become.
Unarmed Combat Proficiency – Dagon is an above average fist-fighter, his edge coming only from his size and muscle strength mixed with his nimbleness. He can throw good punches and decent kicks, can manage certain locks and can fight anyone with formal training to a stalemate, if not coming out on top with quite a few bruises.
Eye of the Apothecary – As a Bokor, Dagon is knowledgeable when it comes to in what most herbs and other substances are used for and how to compound, concoct and brew them into draughts or balms. He can make herbal medicine to slightly improve health and antidotes to cure simple illnesses, but he is also learning about poisons that can cause lethargy to the point that the victim appears to be dead, but beside its complexity, the ingredients for it (mainly datura and puffer fish) are quite rare to come by. Of course, he may use his knowledge for the making of more recreational substances.
Equipment
Mojo Bag – a bag that contains his smaller gris-gris. They are many but are very basic in use, their powers being the equivalent of parlor tricks most of the time. The only notable ones are a wooden ring that must be dipped in blood every month and allows him to heal minor wounds or cure weak poisons once per day, and a necklace that must be dipped in any type of poison and can put to sleep the weak-minded when used as a pendulum (cannot work on PCs unless permitted by the player in question).
The Baron’s Hat – It is a top hat sewn with dark, foreign leather. A compartment inside it is locked in shadows, where the secret of its functioning lies. The hat must be fed alcohol for it to continue working, and a specific thing must never be done to it lest its magic be dispelled, something that he considers his closest-guarded secret. Even when he is not wearing it, the hat grants Dagon ‘immortality’, although it is more akin to stopped time. He can still be killed or die of diseases, but cannot die of old age and will never grow old. It serves as a medium through which Baron Samedi, Loa of the Dead, can communicate with Dagon.
The Heart Tree – It is a shrunken baobab tree that fits into his palm, tied to the inside of his coat by thin yet sturdy rope. When used as a medium, its bark opens up to reveal two gaping holes that slant up inwardly and its roots bend to form a toothed mouth. When a faint green light begins to shine in the hollows, it means that the spirit of Grand Bois, Loa of the Forest, has been summoned inside. It helps Dagon to find whatever he needs, be it water, food or quite simply, a direction. This fetish can also affect the surrounding nature in various ways that are favourable to Dagon, such as growing vines in his wake to impede pursuers. The gris-gris must be given rainwater, lest the leaves on its branches fall. If they all do, then the Heart Tree becomes useless until fed again. Like the Baron’s Hat, something must never be done to it, or else it will grow back into a full-sized tree that Dagon will not be able to shrink again.
The Stone Crossway – It is a cross-shaped piece of stone, etched with a moon within a sun at the junction. It must be bathed in sunlight and moonlight, but ceases to work on moonless nights or sunless days. It can be used to contact either Legba or Kalfu. Both are those who look over the crossroads between life and death, where spirits dwell, but Legba is benevolent spirit linked to the Sun whereas Kalfu is malevolent and linked to the Moon. When called upon, the former wards him against unnatural ailments such as curses and the haunting of malign spirits, while the latter spreads a wave of bad luck to all those nearby.
+ The Blood Thunder – It is a bolt-shaped piece of glass created by lightning striking sand, also known as fulgurite. It is also cinched with a red string, from which a color like blood has seeped over and into the crystal. Dagon wears it proudly around his neck like a pendant, another addition to his many ornaments, but it is also placed there for easy access. Indeed, its power lies in its link with, not one, but two powerful Loa, known as Diable Tonnerre, the devil that rides the lightning, and Ogoun, the warrior spirit that sleeps in fire. When the former is summoned, the crystal sparkles blue-white, and Dagon may shoot weak bolts of stunning lightning or call upon a single true thunderbolt if the sky is dark and overcast. When the latter is summoned, however, the color of blood overtakes the crystal completely, glowing a fiery red, and the shaman may call upon the element of fire to heat his hands red-hot or release a ten-feet long stream of flames (serious burns occur only if the target is struck under three feet away from him). It is more powerful offensively than are his other gris-gris, simply because for it to remain as effective, he must cover it completely in his own blood, every day, and something must never be done to it lest it lose its power. Moreover, the continuous use of this gris-gris physically spends him, and he cannot abuse its power in fear that it may turn against him.
Other Notes
The line I added to Eye of the Apothecary isn’t an update, it’s something I forgot to include in the first profile. Every hippie needs to know how to make that, lest he lose his flower power.
Additions marked by a ' + '
Edits are in ' Green '
http://i63.photobucket.com/albums/h158/Necathys/p_Marley_best254195148_std.jpg
Artwork by T.L. Gruver
Name: Dagon Dessalines
Age: 35
Race: Human
Hair: Coarse and coaly ringlets, braided into ropey dreadlocks
Eyes: Tinted a luminous green and set in a surly, gimlet stare
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 188 lbs.
Occupation: Bokor, Witch Doctor
Appearance
Despite his advancing age, Dagon still appears to be in his prime, tall, tan and with a toned musculature. What is particular about his looks is that he wears his hair in dreadlocks that frizz past his shoulders and has a thick yet neatly- trimmed beard. The man seems to be scowling most of the time, which sets his clear green eyes under broad, slanted brows. His usual attire consists of a long, tattered coat, ample enough for him to conceal various objects that are essential to his role as a witch doctor. Beneath the outerwear, he dons a variety of colourful shirts of reds, yellows and greens, while his pants are usually a bland color of cloth and he wears a faded pair of military boots, borrowed from a dead soldier he’d found on a plain. Otherwise, he carries a good number of trinkets, notably wood and bone necklaces as well as straw-braided arm-bands.
History
My old man wasn’t a hero, but he wasn’t a scumbag. Tell you the truth, most I can remember ‘bout him is that he really wasn’t a lot of things. To start, he wasn’t a charitable bastard, that man. He’d only do you a service if you brought him the goods straight up, and even then you’d be lucky if he didn’t take a long drag of his stone pipe and blow smoke rings in your face. Heck, he wasn’t charitable to his own kids, the village lot of ‘em, and that’s only counting those he knew about. Nah, not much of father, but then we weren’t the best tykes around either. Spawns of his loins, apples and trees, like father like son and whatnot.
Can’t say I knew much about him. Still don’t, except that if he’s one thing, then it’s being good at pushing daisies. Damn tombstone’s a colourful hotspot, with more petals at his feet than there were people at his funerals. Can you imagine it? Spent his life sowing seeds, but the only ones with the poor bastard now aren’t even his. I went there to visit him once... wish I hadn’t. I was a curious kid back then and, if anything, he was intriguing dead or alive. Damn, I wish I hadn’t gone, but it’s too late. Now, I’ve got my whole life ahead of me to regret it.
The men of my country tend to die young, but the old man had outlived all of his brothers, all of their sons and most of their grandsons. The villagers were downright clueless as to how he could be so well preserved after the first fifty years, still red and raring and popping kids like mushrooms after the rain. They called it a blessing from above after the next fifty. Called it a curse when the codger didn’t seem like he’d lie down after twenty more. That’s when their tongues slipped out of a century-old tangle, and they started talking. “The Doctor has found the secret of immortality!”
The doctor. Everyone called him that, but I was just a kid then and I didn’t get why. From time to time, he’d treat the sickly, and the few who knew how to rub him right would sometimes get a spoonful of his drops or a smidgeon of his balms, all made from the dead animals and plants he kept in those dusty bottles on his shelves. The whole place stank like stalked rot, as if he’d killed death itself and kept its skull around as some nasty charm. But no, this wasn’t why: they called him doctor for another reason, and I wanted to know.
But why? Why did I want to know so bad about a man I didn’t hate or care for, a man who lived by his own rules, to his own confounding rhythm, unbound by ties everyone else preaches to be the strongest? Family, friendship, love. None of that for the Doctor. After a while, my curiosity turned to fear. I was afraid of the word, and then the nightmares began.
He’d come to me in those, in the guise of a skeleton. Didn’t wear a strip of cloth, a strip of flesh, He was naked except for those strange objects, necklaces, rings, bands and bracelets, stone gewgaws, wooden pendants and straps of foreign leather. They rang, hissed, trilled and clicked with his bones during that dance of the macabre that always lasted through the night. I’d wake up in sweats every time. With each time, the skeleton became the doctor, the doctor became the skeleton. They were the same to me then.
Ignorance is bliss, I know that now. I didn’t, when I broke into his home. I had enough of the nightmares, of the fear. They gripped at me and wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t let go until I damn did something. So I did. I looked everywhere, took out the brains from his jars, the eyes from his earthenware, the plants that seemed to stop moving every time my eyes passed over ‘em. I flipped every book from front to back, made a mess of the whole place while looking for a drop of clarity. Then, I found a whole hatful of it. The old man kept a top hat in box he left unlocked, made of old and shoddily-stitched leather. Can’t say I really gave much of a damn about its quality though. I was a bit too preoccupied by the fact that it was talking to me.
Baron Samedi, it called itself. It told me everything: of those like him, the Loa, the spirits that dwell. It told me of those like my father, the ‘witch doctors’ who were once known as the Bokor. Then, it told me of their – no, our bond. Ours. It was overwhelming, far too much for a boy who only wanted to know things others didn’t. I felt old, aged beyond my time, but not because I was wiser. I was old, because I was already regretting, because I was already yearning for the bliss of ignorance to blind me again.
It told me about immortality.
The next day, I went to my father’s grave, with the Baron in hand. It was the only time I dared go, and I’ll never go back. Not after what I did. The flowers crumpled under my feet, died as I tore into the earth, into his grave, into his death. I tore into everything, and pulled him out. Even after all this time, his skin barely seemed touched by decay, and he looked damn peaceful, as if he’d finally found what he’d bee looking for after more than a century of searching. Seeing him like that, I could’ve stopped right there, right then. But I didn’t. Curiosity had given way to greed, and I regret it now.
I’ve got my whole life ahead of me to regret it.
+ The Odyssey, Prologue: Dagon traveled the world, ending up working part-time as a lounge singer in the Minstrel's Perch. There, he met Molotov, Kyo and the other members of the renewed Bandit Brotherhood, which he eventually joined. They set out to rid the ruins of Aiseirigh of their feral occupants to make the location their new Headquarters. After their success, Dagon returned to his personal quest in gaining power, seeking out the Omeldi Crystal at the side of Caduceus Grimaldi, like him one of the leaders of the Order of the Golden Dawn. During the enterprise, he made the acquaintance of Lasair Anubail, a powerful Fae, as well as Karyna O'Feargail, a tracker that helped them through the woods. He also met with Chromanon Rockskin, who played a critical role in the securing of the Crystal. In the months that followed, he became her partner in a tournament, but ended up fighting against Molotov and Jared Cesarino from the Brotherhood. After the initial awkwardness of the encounter, all four managed a good fight and left the battlefield without any grudges or regrets.
Skills
Loa Empathy – Being a Bokor, Dagon can converse with the spirits of nature and of those who have passed away. Whenever he encounters a natural marker that is deeply linked with a particular Loa, such as a snake for the spirit of Simbi, he is capable of calling upon it to ask for guidance or information. Dagon is not experienced enough to have a Loa ‘mount’ him, that is to say, allow himself to be possessed. If a powerful and usually evil spirit decides to make him its host, however, it will more than likely be successful.
Ritualistic Crafting – Dagon cannot use his powers as a witch doctor without the support of gris-gris, fetishes that he creates to channel to power of a Loa. By using materials that have a symbolic relation to the spirit whose power he wishes to borrow, he can craft a diversity of accessories that will serve as media. All of these gris-gris have conditions set upon them, and the harder it is to fulfill, the stronger it will be. They must all have a weakness as well, in such a way that if a specific action is done to the fetish, then it will become permanently inoperative. His degree of skill is currently above average, and as such the effectiveness of his items will be quite efficient. As such, the more skill he has in this, the stronger his fetishes, old and new, will become.
Unarmed Combat Proficiency – Dagon is an above average fist-fighter, his edge coming only from his size and muscle strength mixed with his nimbleness. He can throw good punches and decent kicks, can manage certain locks and can fight anyone with formal training to a stalemate, if not coming out on top with quite a few bruises.
Eye of the Apothecary – As a Bokor, Dagon is knowledgeable when it comes to in what most herbs and other substances are used for and how to compound, concoct and brew them into draughts or balms. He can make herbal medicine to slightly improve health and antidotes to cure simple illnesses, but he is also learning about poisons that can cause lethargy to the point that the victim appears to be dead, but beside its complexity, the ingredients for it (mainly datura and puffer fish) are quite rare to come by. Of course, he may use his knowledge for the making of more recreational substances.
Equipment
Mojo Bag – a bag that contains his smaller gris-gris. They are many but are very basic in use, their powers being the equivalent of parlor tricks most of the time. The only notable ones are a wooden ring that must be dipped in blood every month and allows him to heal minor wounds or cure weak poisons once per day, and a necklace that must be dipped in any type of poison and can put to sleep the weak-minded when used as a pendulum (cannot work on PCs unless permitted by the player in question).
The Baron’s Hat – It is a top hat sewn with dark, foreign leather. A compartment inside it is locked in shadows, where the secret of its functioning lies. The hat must be fed alcohol for it to continue working, and a specific thing must never be done to it lest its magic be dispelled, something that he considers his closest-guarded secret. Even when he is not wearing it, the hat grants Dagon ‘immortality’, although it is more akin to stopped time. He can still be killed or die of diseases, but cannot die of old age and will never grow old. It serves as a medium through which Baron Samedi, Loa of the Dead, can communicate with Dagon.
The Heart Tree – It is a shrunken baobab tree that fits into his palm, tied to the inside of his coat by thin yet sturdy rope. When used as a medium, its bark opens up to reveal two gaping holes that slant up inwardly and its roots bend to form a toothed mouth. When a faint green light begins to shine in the hollows, it means that the spirit of Grand Bois, Loa of the Forest, has been summoned inside. It helps Dagon to find whatever he needs, be it water, food or quite simply, a direction. This fetish can also affect the surrounding nature in various ways that are favourable to Dagon, such as growing vines in his wake to impede pursuers. The gris-gris must be given rainwater, lest the leaves on its branches fall. If they all do, then the Heart Tree becomes useless until fed again. Like the Baron’s Hat, something must never be done to it, or else it will grow back into a full-sized tree that Dagon will not be able to shrink again.
The Stone Crossway – It is a cross-shaped piece of stone, etched with a moon within a sun at the junction. It must be bathed in sunlight and moonlight, but ceases to work on moonless nights or sunless days. It can be used to contact either Legba or Kalfu. Both are those who look over the crossroads between life and death, where spirits dwell, but Legba is benevolent spirit linked to the Sun whereas Kalfu is malevolent and linked to the Moon. When called upon, the former wards him against unnatural ailments such as curses and the haunting of malign spirits, while the latter spreads a wave of bad luck to all those nearby.
+ The Blood Thunder – It is a bolt-shaped piece of glass created by lightning striking sand, also known as fulgurite. It is also cinched with a red string, from which a color like blood has seeped over and into the crystal. Dagon wears it proudly around his neck like a pendant, another addition to his many ornaments, but it is also placed there for easy access. Indeed, its power lies in its link with, not one, but two powerful Loa, known as Diable Tonnerre, the devil that rides the lightning, and Ogoun, the warrior spirit that sleeps in fire. When the former is summoned, the crystal sparkles blue-white, and Dagon may shoot weak bolts of stunning lightning or call upon a single true thunderbolt if the sky is dark and overcast. When the latter is summoned, however, the color of blood overtakes the crystal completely, glowing a fiery red, and the shaman may call upon the element of fire to heat his hands red-hot or release a ten-feet long stream of flames (serious burns occur only if the target is struck under three feet away from him). It is more powerful offensively than are his other gris-gris, simply because for it to remain as effective, he must cover it completely in his own blood, every day, and something must never be done to it lest it lose its power. Moreover, the continuous use of this gris-gris physically spends him, and he cannot abuse its power in fear that it may turn against him.
Other Notes
The line I added to Eye of the Apothecary isn’t an update, it’s something I forgot to include in the first profile. Every hippie needs to know how to make that, lest he lose his flower power.