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10 [Year 494 Fall]








Holsteiner/Akhal Teke X


14 hh







Last Visit:

08-13-2019, 10:06 PM


Signos: 325 (Donate)
Total Posts: 20 (Find All Posts)
Total Threads: 7 (Find All Threads)

Graceful as a dancer and sharp as the rest of her personality might imply, Locust is built slight and slim – there is little imposing about her, save her own force of will, and, for a pirate, she’s always had an exceptionally pretty face, something that she has never hesitated to use to her advantage. Besides, she’s quick, and agile as a snake, and that’s done her more good in most of the fights that she’s been in than brute force alone.

Most of her body is covered in a metallic silver. (Golden used to say that it was like fish scales, when the afternoon sun on the sea would hit her.) This dips to dusky, black shades around her face and along her legs, mostly uninterrupted – save for around her eyes, which are accentuated with v-shaped white markings and sets of dots. Her only other markings are stripes, most prominently visible where her neck connects to her chest and along her rump, but visibly in a ghost-like strip of patterning on the furthest stretches of her underbelly. Her eyes are a deep, oceanic teal, and her mane is white as new-fallen snow and exceptionally wavy; she has always struggled to control it and keeps her tail in a long braid as a result. A series of white spines run the length of her upper back, extending from her shoulders. Though rarely useful in battle, she likes to think that they are a bit intimidating.

Locust has always been exceptionally fond of pearls, and she likes to adorn herself with them however possible. This is most prominent in the form of a mock “bridle” that drips from her face and connects to a piercing in her lower jaw, but she also wears them in the braids of her tail and in a bracelet that most often loops around her front-left leg. A single silver earring is pierced into her left ear, simple but succinct. She is rarely seen unarmed; her dagger is often kept strapped to her opposite leg.


Vices : Wine. A creature of impulse with a devil-may care attitude and a sharp temper to match. Profane, irreligious, and crude – full of harsh edges. Struggles with emotional vulnerability; petrified of affection, and tends to blame it on some innate quality, rather than learned behavior. Deeply lonely and melancholic, in spite of her reckless and lighthearted exterior. A pirate, violent by nature – though only unnecessarily so to kelpies. Extremely, extremely self-destructive.

Virtues : Deeply caring, beneath her careless and prickly exterior – has struggled to find a permanent crew since the incident because of her strong attachment to her people. A natural sailor with a strong attachment to the water, in spite of her current inability to swim. Loves deeply, when she loves, though she struggles to recognize it, much less to hold onto it. A strong, charismatic, and intelligent leader by nature, with a penchant for dealing with even the most troublesome crew members. Always willing to help those in poor circumstances. Generally maintains a cheerful composure; exceptionally outgoing, to the point of shamelessness.

Locust is a pirate.

She presents the charming type, the sort of fun, wild-minded being that shows up in stories; the good pirate, not the bad one. Locust grew up with the deep desire for a kind of heroism, and, though she is hardly moral, she is charitable to those who are less fortunate, and she is rarely needlessly aggressive or violent, save to kelpies. She is cheerful, if often in a snide and sarcastic manner, and prone to teasing and “tough love,” though her genuine insults are often saved for those she dislikes. She has a fondness for tarot cards, baseless superstitions, and sailors’ yarns.Though blunt, harsh, and not infrequently vulgar, she still manages to be strangely charming, if only because something about her seems utterly untamed. She tends towards the flirtatious, though she claims to struggle with the concept of “genuine” love for others and bolts at the first sign of romance or commitment. This philosophy seems to carry over to all of her personal relationships; the moment that someone steals close enough to her to matter, Locust leaves.

Beneath her careless exterior resides a near-ceaselessly melancholic and troubled being, terrified of the two things that are most necessary for her unsavory profession – the sea and a close crew. Locust is extremely self-destructive, and she ruins most anything positive that comes her way as a matter of principal; before, perhaps, it can be ruined for her. Since the accident, her drinking and now-frequent sexual encounters have evolved to unsustainable levels, and, while she seems to be distantly aware that her behavior is growing more and more unhealthy, she does nothing to change it.

But none of this touches on her behavior towards kelpies.

After the deaths – or so she assumes - of her crewmates and her daughter, Locust became an exceptionally skilled Kelpie hunter. She resents water-horses, regardless of their personal morality, and she considers them nothing more than ravenous beasts, despite their sentience. Her hatred manifests itself with exceptional violence, and she likes nothing more than to use herself as bait to draw out any particularly hungry water-horses she can find – and gut them like fish, to sell their skins.

She tells herself that it is the right thing to do – but, perhaps some part of her cannot quite believe it, and it keeps her awake at night, whispering curses at the moon over a half-empty bottle of wine.

1. They don’t have records for your birth, so here –
a. FATHER : Morgan-of-Blue-Waters; in polite terms, seeker of the Nzarah tribe of the Western Varnsea. In less polite terms, a pirate.
b. MOTHER : Izira, “exotic dancer.” You know nothing else about her, because your father and his crew had never cared to learn. When you asked about why she was on the ship, if she was a dancer, Mooneye, the man who used to work on the sails, winked at you with his good eye and said that she was a godawful navigator but your father rather liked your company. Not enough, though. When the guards caught him in a tavern with her, he was happy to throw her aside – to get cut to pieces – so that he could get away.
c. YOU : Locust, not Locust-of-Blue-Waters, simple pirate. (Or whatever title is necessary to get ahold of what you need.) Your father decided to keep you after your mother died, claiming you’d be “useful” one day. d. You would like to make one thing perfectly clear: you might have inherited his job, but you are not your father. Even if he did like his family, and he didn’t, and even if he would have given you their name, and he didn’t, you wouldn’t have taken it.
2. You grew up learning the ropes (very literally) of piracy. You took to the water like you were born in it; sometimes the crewmates that liked you, even though you were a precocious little slip of a girl, would say that you were born sea-veined, like a water horse.
3. The first lesson that your father taught you was that you cannot be used if you use first.
4. You liked the water. When you were younger, before you knew that it was dangerous, you liked to swim – out by the rocks. Your father and his crew didn’t care much if you lived or died, so they let you. Sometimes you wished that you had gills. Fins. Sometimes you wished that you could dip beneath the surface.
5. You learned the way that a storm felt. You learned the water, the wind, the spray of stars; you were always a quick learner. You learned the masts, the ropes, the wheel – you learned the way that the boat felt in the water. Half of that was unauthorized.
6. Mooneye was a better father to you than your father. Damned shame that he went down in a raid; you were about a year and a half old, but sometimes you still see him on the deck, a rapier sticking out from between his ribs.
7. You were never scared or sick on a ship, until you were older and alcohol became involved. Sometimes, in fact, you felt sicker on dry land, without the constant bob of the waves beneath your hooves. Your father claimed that it was because you were born on-board.
8. Your father liked you well enough, and you liked him well enough, but he didn’t care for you much. If you were a son, he might have. But you weren’t.
9. And you were smarter than he was. You knew that much. By the time that you were two, you’d learned practically everything that he could teach you, and, the thing was, you were damn good at it. You could steer a ship through nearly anything, and you could charm just as easily as you could draw a knife – and the crew liked you, which was the most important thing.
10. When your father suggested marrying you to a boy from the Nzarah, you refused.
11. When he insisted, he wasn’t kind about it. Pirates never were; when they couldn’t get what they wanted, they took it with whatever they could find.
12. (In your father’s case, it was a broken bottle.)
13. You weren’t the one who suggested killing him. That was Golden.
14. Golden liked you, and you liked Golden. Made him your first mate. You might have even loved him; you spent more than a few nights with him, even though he wasn’t the father of your child. If you were better at loving, you might have loved him. (Maybe you loved him anyways. It isn't as though it matters now.)
15. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Golden is still alive, at this part of the story; and the girl isn’t born yet.
16. Golden liked you, and so did the rest of the crew. There were some of them that thought like your father, but you were awfully convincing, so most of them could be – persuaded – to see your way.
17. Staging a mutiny wasn’t as hard as you expected.
18. The last thing that your father taught you: if you love something, even a little bit, it’s hard to let go of it.
19. Yes, you did do it yourself. Nothing good is done by half-measures. When you started to think that you couldn’t do it, you reminded yourself of the open wounds on your flanks until they burned, and you reminded yourself of what you’d seen your father do to women, and you reminded yourself that the boy you were supposed to marry would be just like that-
20. You’ve never married. Never loved much, either. 21. Someone said something about the inevitability of love and vulnerability, once. (You don’t read much.) The last goddamned thing that you ever want is vulnerability.
22. Another one of your father’s lessons, when he kicked an insubordinate sailor into shark-infested water. If you’re too kind to your crew, they won’t stay in line.
23. You like to think that you were relatively kind, but that might have made the whole ordeal bloodier. You were three years old, and you wanted to be a hero, even though you were a pirate. You’ve always been the Robin Hood type, you like to think. A real good Samaritan. (Mostly.) Helping those orphaned kids on the street, feeding beggars…
24. Maybe that was why you liked Denocte enough to make it your temporary home, whenever you were off the water.
25. The other pirates did not necessarily see it the same way. You had to cull about half the crew, and some of it hurt, but what was left was a loyal, good-hearted group of adventurers, moral as pirates could be.
26. And Golden. Golden was always there.
27. When you had your daughter, you were five.
28. Her father was some smooth-talking, sweet guy you’d met at a port. Nice hair. A poet. It wasn’t supposed to go that way, really, but you’ve never been known for your impulse control, and, a few weeks later, you had a problem.
29. You’d do better with her, you decided, than your father had done with you.
30. You had to take a break from piracy for a while, but that was fine. Golden was more than capable of keeping things afloat while you were gone, even though he didn’t want to leave you. You stayed in Denocte. Walked the streets. Spoke to the child. You’d never wanted kids, but, well, now you had a kid, and, even though you knew that you wouldn’t make the best mother, you needed to be better than your father, so you had to keep it.
31. She was a sweet thing. Soft. Big eyes. You’d never wanted kids, but you’d be damned if she wasn’t cute.
32. You named her Maribelle, and Golden – and the rest – made fun of you over it for weeks. A name for some rich young lady, yes, but certainly not a pirate.
33. As soon as you thought she could handle it, you began to take Maribelle out on the boat. Yes, you coddled her. Yes, you were distressed when she got a splinter and cried over it. Yes, it was harder than you expected.
34. But she took to the water well, like you. It made you proud.
35. Golden, too.
36. Eventually, you began to take longer trips.
37. A few months later, you left Denocte behind and headed out into open waters.
38. You don’t want to think about what happens next.
39. You don’t want to think about it.
40. You don’t want to think about it.
41. You don’t want to think about it.
42. Please.
43. It was a big storm. There was nothing you could have done.
44. But you try. You remember exactly what you did that day. There must have been something that would have changed things.
45. There must have been something you could have done.
46. The ship capsizes. You all go spilling out. Golden is there, and he has Maribelle, and you take her up on your back…
47. The crew members are sinking. You’re delirious. Why are they sinking? The waves are harsh, but they can swim. You’re screaming out orders, but they can’t hear you over the wind and the rain.
48. There’s blood in the water.
49. Your first thought is sharks. Something grabs Golden. He screams. Kicks at it. And it rears from the water…
50. Your father told you stories about water-horses, but you’d only ever seen them from a distance – dark shapes on the horizon.
51. Secretly, you’d thought that they might be wonderful. Surely, it would be wonderful to swim like that, to dive…
52. You could only watch, your eyes wide with horror, as he went under.
53. And then they pulled.
54. And pulled.
55. And Maribelle was screaming, and you were screaming for her. You begged. You begged, and you’d never begged for anything before in your life – but please. Not her. Please.
56. Please. Not her.
57. Please.
58. You clung to her as best you could, in the thrashing waves and the blackness, but she couldn’t hold on, and you couldn’t grab her. One moment, she was screaming for you, her little leg caught in the jaws of one of those things-
59. And then she was gone, beneath the waves.
60. You replay the image.
61. You replay the image.
62. She is still screaming.
63. In your head, you can save her.
64. In your head…
65. You don’t know why they left you, or how you got away, but you couldn’t swim forever. You fainted, and you thought that you died, but, instead, you washed up on a shoreline a few days later, somewhere or another.
66. You drank.
67. You drank.
68. You drank.
69. And drank.
70. And drank.
71. And it didn’t go away.
72. Somewhere during the several weeks that you spent drunk, you went down to the shoreline. The moon was out. The water was dark. You walked between the tide pools, buried your hooves in the sand…
73. He came out of the water, all black silk. He must have smelled the alcohol on your breath, noticed the way you were stumbling…
74. But he didn’t notice the knife.
75. See, you’d been underestimated – by one bigger, stronger predator, with sharper teeth or another – for your entire life. And there was no one around to scream for.
76. He must have missed the knife.
77. He didn’t miss it when you gutted him like a herring.
78. You stared down at his corpse, dripping red out onto the sand, and, for a fraction of a second, it felt good. You didn’t know if he was one of the ones that had come for your crew, come for your-
79. Your-
80. Your-
81. your people, and you didn’t care. His mouth was all teeth. He’d tried to bite you.
82. If they were butchers, you’d become a butcher too. You saved up. Swindled. Stole. Did what you had to. You bought a new ship, and a carving knife. You bought a new crew. You didn’t give a damn about them; you changed them out at every port.
83. Sometimes you were on the sea. Sometimes you were in Denocte. Sometimes you were at any number of stops along the way.
84. People will pay a lot for kelpie skins. Waterproof. Good at warding off others.
85. It’s messy work to get them, but you were always good at slicing up fish – you were never much of a carnivore yourself, but some folks were, and they’d pay good for them, so your father taught you to fish young.
86. You would not cry. You would not cry. You wouldn’t cry.
87. You keep your liquor cabinet stashed and some old books handy at all times. Sometimes, when you’re particularly upset, you start ripping out pages.
88. They come to you, most of the time. Now that you know how to find them, they’re practically everywhere – and easy to lure out, if you can play the fool.
89. (You would not cry. You would not cry. You would not cry.)
90. It doesn’t take much. Batted lashes. A song. A deck of cards. And, once they show their teeth –
91. if they show their teeth –
92. (You would not cry.)
93. They aren’t any different from a normal beast, and you’re too clever to get in over your head.
94. Even if they don’t come at you, all teeth – they’ll come at someone else.
95. It doesn’t make you feel better.
96. It should make you feel better.
97. You don’t go into the water, now. Never. The last time you tried to so much as set your hoof into the surf, you threw up for days.
98. The sea is black and dark on the horizon. You keep your telescope handy, in case you see a herd.
99. Even when it is blue, the sea is black and dark.
100. You come back to Denocte, once you can stomach it, and set up your operations at their port. You smile. You laugh. You don’t think about things that you don’t want to think about. You buy some people in town a drink. Maybe you go home with someone. You don’t go home. You don’t think about things that you don’t want to think about. You have that little townhouse, but you stay on the ship. You don’t go out on the beach. When night falls, you lock yourself below deck. You smile. You do your business. You polish your knife.
101. It doesn’t make you feel better.

Active & Parvus Magic

Passive Magic


Armor, Outfit, and Accessories

DAGGERS : Locust boasts a single obsidian dagger which she is rarely seen without, something that she was given by Mooneye as a child. Though each one is just less than a foot in length, the dagger has been sharpened religiously, and so much as touching the tips with bare skin can create a cut. It is a quick and light weapon, and she wields it with a practiced ease. Particularly striking is the hilt - when the light hits its ink-black surface properly, one might notice the initials that have been carved down either side of it, representing her crew, lost to storm and kelpies.

BRIDLE : a collection of pearls that extend from her forehead to mid-way down her face, dangle off the sides of it to connect to a piercing on her lower jaw, and then tumble down her chest.

Agora Items & Awards

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Played by:

Jeanne (PM Player)


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