As some of you probably know, I’m part of an RPG group that meets once a week to play D&D-esque games like 7th Seas or BESM. My two characters for those games are in earlier posts on this here very blog! o.o (Here. <– Nadire and final image of Renxeche.) (And here. <– Renxeche backstory/origin)
So, being the rabid nerd that I am, when one of the players announced that they were going to start a side-campaign of yet another game to take over a slot in the rotation…. well I immediately started dreaming up character concepts.
The game in question is Deadlands, which is set in an alternate history where the Civil War never ended, the 1800s are drawing to a close, and strange, supernatural things have begun to happen. Also, STEAMPUNK :D. In the game, there are actually 6 more or less independant nations inhabiting the US, one of which is the Sioux Nation, from which this character originally hales.
I have decided, based on the rough idea I have in mind for her her backstory, to name her Hoka Wikoskalaka – pronounced as hohn – kahn wee – koh – shkah – lah – kah, (which means “Badger Young Woman” in Lakota, according to the internet).
To avoid the DM’s head exploding from attempting to pronounce unfamiliar Lakota words every time he needs to address my character, (*cough*trypronouncingrenxechesometime*cough*) she goes by Hoka among friends.
Hoka was born Oyuskeya Wicicala (“Alert Girl”), Her parents nicknamed her Hoka Wikoskalaka for her stubborn personality and fierce eyes.
She was married young, to a strict and rigid husband. He was rough and harsh, and frequently beat his young wife whenever dinner was too late for his liking, or the bread was burned, or the house was not clean enough. She strugged through two years of marriage until things came to a head one evening when nothing seemed to be going right. The bread was too hard, the beans were too soft, the fish was not cooked to his liking. Finally, when she tripped, trying to clear the table and the dishes crashed to the floor, he leapt to his feet and ground her face into the shards of pottery, calling her a stupid, clumsy bitch, while she howled. When he finally let her go, Hoka staggered away from him, face bleeding. This time, however, he had gone too far. Many husbands beat their wives, she had grown to accept this. But tonight was too much. Now she was angry. Hoka was not called “badger” for nothing. She flung a shattered bowl at him, holding her injured face; calling him a coward. A eunich. He lunged for her and she retreated to the hearth. He followed, swearing thunderously. Cornered, she snatched up her heavy iron frying pan and smashed him hard across the face. When he went down, she struck him again. Then twice more. Finally, she was sure that he would never be striking her again.
For half an hour, she sat with the corpse, crying, pulling bits of pottery from her skin, and trying to decide what to do. Eventually, she realized that there were only two choices. Stay and be hanged for murder (no one would care that he’d beaten her) or flee and start another life. She chose the latter and fled, eventually making her way into the Maze.
With time, the ugly gashes in her face and arms smoothed to pale pink scars, though she still carries a deep anger. She apprenticed herself to the first inventor who would take her and within a few years began to manufacture ghost-rock powered tools, weapons, and gadgets. Though she now supports herself and has become a very knowledgeable creator, she has become restless and has not missed the meaningful stares that drink in her obvious scars. Though no-one has said so, she imagines that there may be a price on her head and has decided to make herself scarce.
More concepts may be forthcoming. I’m also toying with a railroad-worker martial artist, and a prostitute character. More as they develop.
And now I should really be getting my keister to bed. … I’ve got to stop doing these late nights :p