PERSONAL

Gender: Female

Kit: Normal

Location: Early 19th Century England

AFFILIATION

Alignment: Hero

Team: Solo Hero

VITAL STATS

Strength: standard (rank 1)

Agility: standard (rank 1)

Mind: standard (rank 1)

Body: standard (rank 1)

Spirit: (rank )

Charisma: (rank )

RECORD

Fame Points: 520

Personal Wins: 20

Personal Losses: 6

Team Wins: 0

Team Losses: 0

Tourney Wins: 0

Tourney Losses: 0

STATUS

Status: Active

Pseudonym

1816

The sun had already begun to sink below the horizon and Catherine Watchfob was still out on her carriage ride through the manor grounds. She was supposed to be back for supper, but during her trip she came upon a lake and was so taken with its tranquil beauty, that she was moved to halt the carriage and sit by the water’s edge to reflect on the marvels of nature.

The horses drawing the carriage cantered forward at a brisk pace. Catherine sat back against the seat, bumping up and down with the shocks of the carriage as the wheels struggled over the cobblestones. Biting her lip, Catherine urged the horses faster hoping that a speedy enough return home might spare her the ire of her father.

As the carriage rounded a glen, Catherine was made aware that something was amiss. A thick column of black smoke was rising from a spot in the distance. Catherine pushed the horses even faster to a full gallop. She raced across the grounds, wind rushing through the carriage squinting both against the air and to keep tears at bay.

The sight of her home in flames took her breath away. She barely had the presence of mind to stop the horses. Her tears flowed freely. The entire building was consumed by the fire. The smoke stung her eyes and burned her throat. Catherine had just hopped out of the carriage when her father, Lord Watchfob, ran streaming out of the flaming house. His cravat was stained black by the soot swirling through the air, his shirt and coat were dishevelled and unalligned so that he looked like a commoner given the clothes of a lord.

“Darling, Catherine, Darling” Lord Watchfob’s eyes were wide with fear. It occured to Catherine at that moment that she rarely saw her father in any emotion other than detached disdain. She was removed from this thought by her father’s frantic screaming. “Stay outside, wait for Jane to come out and take you to my brother’s house.”

This idea was a shocking one to Catherine, for she had never heard mention of this brother before.

Lord Watchfob turned to run back into the house, apologetically shouting over his shoulder, “I’ve got to go get your brother”.

Catherine stood outside paralyzed, staring into the flames. In some ways the flames reflected the tranquil beauty of the lake which had kept her away from the house. In a similar way they transfixed Catherine and kept her rooted to the spot gazing endlessly.

In a hurry, Jane rushed out of the house and shook Catherine out of her reverie. “Let’s go, dear.” Jane hopped into the carriage that Catherine had just disembarked and beckoned. As Catherine climbed into the seat, she heard a loud cracking of wood behind her as the fire ate up enough of the walls to force the roof of the house to collapse.

Jane took the reins and set the horses off to the gate separating the Watchfob manor from the world outside. As the gate loomed in site on the horizon, another carriage at full gallop cut Catherine’s off. At first she surmised it was a fleeing servant newly liberated by the demise of his master, but after yet another glance she saw that it was not one of the Watchfob’s carriages. The Watchfobs had phaetons and even broughams but the carriage currently steaming along in front of Catherine was foreign to her.

With a gasp, Catherine realized that the carriage belonged to an intruder. She reached over and snatched the reins out of Jane’s hands. Jane almost cried out in surprise, but after seeing the smoldering anger in her charge’s expression, she sat back and let Catherine drive.

“YAH!”

Catherine’s horses broke into a gallop at her call. Slowly the distance between her and her competitors disappeared. She couldn’t see the intruder from behind, because this strange carriage had a hood on the back shooting up over the seat and providing shade. Catherine pulled her carriage up to the right side of the stranger and stared over. She caught a glimpse but lost it as a massive impact rocked the carriage.

“Catherine, dear,” Jane warbled, “He hit us.”

“I know.” Catherine flicked the reins and the horses moved even faster. The chase was fierce. Catherine’s carriage rocked as it bounced over stones. The intruder raced across the courtyard and squeezed his tiny carriage through a gap made in the gate around the manor grounds. Catherine was barely able to turn quickly enough to stop from slamming into the wall.

She breathed hard, seething with rage and frustration. Slowly, she turned the carriage around and walked the horses back to the manor to mourn the loss of her family.

The funeral was a small service in attendance. Catherine’s family, who she lost in the fire, was mourned only by her, Jane, and the servants who also lived on the land. After saying good-bye and leaving the casket to be buried, Catherine was taken to the house of her uncle Rufus.

Although technically an uncle, Rufus was a commoner because his mother was not Catherine’s grandmother. Rufus’s mother was a commoner who, taken in with the riches and charm of a lord, made a very bad decision which turned out to be Rufus. Though somewhat unrefined of features on his mother’s side, Rufus had inherited the natural grace of a nobleman, and so received a grieving Catherine without complaint. There, he nurtured her until she felt well, and treated her like his own.

After Catherine overcame her grief, she took to assisting her uncle in his business of sculpting. Her uncle had just gone out, and Catherine was resting in her room when there came a knock at the door. She answered the door to see Jane.

"Jane, hello! How are you? Oh, do come in and have a seat. I apologize for the state of the room; I was not expecting any visitors today."

"Oh, it is no trouble,” Jane said as she entered and took a seat at the small table. “I am fine, thank you, but there is something I simply must talk to you about."

Catherine seated herself opposite her old governess and sat silently.

“I know the man who killed your father.”

Catherine’s hands immediately balled into fists. Tears leapt to her eyes, but she fought them back in order to listen better. “How and Who?”

Jane took a large breath. “After the fire that burned down your house, I went to work for someone else. I heard him talking to some of his friends over drinks. He was bragging about how he had eliminated his competition. And then they sang his eulogy.” Jane stopped. Her sobs had overtaken her resolve to speak. The horrified look on Catherine’s face drew forth tears. “They made James play the piano. I’m sorry.”

“James is there too? Who did this?” Catherine screamed fighting back tears.

“If he finds out I’m gone, he’ll hurt me more.” Jane rolled up her sleeve to reveal a dark purple bruise which spread out along her arm. “Curricle. Count Curricle.”

Catherine thought her plan out quickly and gave Jane her instructions. “I’m coming to get you,” she ended with. “Godspeed, don’t let him hurt you anymore.”

The Proletariat

     Commander: superior (rank 2)

• Area Affect
• Super Area of Effect

Three weeks later was the date of Count Curricle’s masquerade ball and Catherine was there. Men in evening clothes and women in ballgowns danced in the luxurious ballroom. Interspersed were servants of the house. Some walked through the aisles of dancers, holding trays of appetizers for the partygoers to snatch as they passed. Others lined the walls as guards, in marble colored clothing with matching masks. They stood still at attention without eating or drinking during the festivities. Lord Curricle and his wife stood at the north end of the room making conversation. On Catherine’s signal a guard approached the count and whispered in his ear that there was trouble in another room. The count swore under his breath and walked off. Catherine followed.

The Count saw four guards enter the room behind him. When he realized that everything was in order he whipped around in a fury. “What is the meaning of this? Wait, who are you?”

Catherine stepped forward and threw off her mask. “All of your questions will be answered. Right now you will be made to atone for your crimes.”

Hoi Polloi

     Psychic Vampire: superior (rank 2)

• Area Affect
• Super Area of Effect

“Help!” screamed the count. “Guards, Servants, someone get in here!”

“Help!” Catherine matched his volume mockingly. “Someone help this man! Help him, please!”

Both stopped screaming and looked at each other. “There’s no one here to help you anymore.” Catherine explained. “Now, I make my demands which you shall honor or face death.”

The Count sprung forward and charged Catherine. He grabbed her by the neck and pressed her up against a wall. A gasp of pain escaped her lips. “And what is here to stop me beating you bloody.”

Catherine cleared her throat and said, “Watchfob”. The count, surprised to hear the name of his most recent victims loosened his grip. At that moment three men who had been waiting outside entered and tore the count away from Catherine and threw him to the floor.

Catherine walked over to him and looked down. “Your men work for me now,” she said. “Now, my demands include a higher pay for each servant and no more physical abuse.”

“I-I can’t. I can’t pay them more. There’s just not enough money.”

“Well then, set aside a small amount for your funeral and give them the rest.” Catherine walked out.

The Working Class

     Poison: standard (rank 1)

Catherine sat at the dinner table, newspaper in hand, while concealing a smile which - if he had caught a trace - would have induced in Rupert an air of suspicion. The paper told the story of how Count Curricle was found on the floor of his chambers, mouth caked open with froth from his throat. It appeared he was screaming as he died, but no one had heard him and rushed to his help. His belongings were to be auctioned off two Saturdays following; including his manor, his carriages and his servants.

As Catherine set down the paper a knock sounded from the door. She opened it and Jane entered. Catherine pulled Jane into an embrace.

Catherine retrieved the newspaper to show Jane the article regarding the death of the count. Catherine pointed emphatically to the last words of the article describing the auction and said, “I’m coming to get you back.”