#🐈‍⬛ anything in particular that catches your fancy? 🐈‍⬛ v; main/modern

[ironwoodwizard]

❝ eugh, don’t be nice to me. it makes me want to be nice back. ❞ @ Ian

Baldur’s Gate 3 Starters | @cardigansandearlgrey

“Nice would be giving you a lollie for being such a good boy whilst you peruse my shop. I, on the other hand, am simply practicing good customer service and basic respect. You would do well to learn the same,” Ian remarked, a vaguely sardonic yet professional smile playing on his pale lips. It wasn’t often that he encountered such rude customers anymore, but he was well versed in handling them. A cool head and silver tongue were key.

“Are there any pieces that you’re particularly interested in, or would you like more time to browse?”

[ironwoodwizard]

(Closed Starter for @mxrvelouscreations | Tobias)

Once the epitome of a law abiding and law enforcing citizen, Ian had become a bit of a punk in his old age. Perhaps it had something to do with the witch hunt that had forced him out of his hometown centuries ago, or the fact that justice systems the world over had deviated so much from the one he had served in his youth. There wasn’t a day that went by now that he didn’t lament how cruelly America in particular treated its citizens. How they treated each other. It was outrageous!

Still, as anarchistic as he was leaning these days, the vampire had never lost his desire to protect those around him, and for all of its modern eccentricities, this small and sleepy Texas town reminded him loosely of his old village. People cared about their neighbors. They stuck their noses in everyone else’s business. Most people didn’t lock their doors at night. Everyone thought they were safe, trusting each other in a way that he’d rarely seen anywhere else. The news of a grisly murder just down the road had been devastating, and predictably had local cops sniffing around the shops.

Ian wasn’t surprised when he opened his door and found himself face to face with one. Sighing heavily, he remarked, “Normally, I’d demand to see a warrant before I let you in here, officer, but I want this case solved just as quickly as I’m sure you do.” A perk of immortality: he didn’t look nearly as tired as he felt. The downside of such vitality, however, was that it could make him look apathetic at times. Hopefully his eyes could convey the sympathy that his porcelain face could not. “Be as thorough as you must,” he added, stepping aside. “I have nothing to hide, and I’ll answer your questions to the best of my abilities. Just…try not to break anything?”

[ironwoodwizard]

(Closed starter for @mxrvelouscreations | Ayden)

“You break it, you buy it, mate, and I don’t haggle with mischief makers.” Getting rambunctious teens and twenty-somethings in the shop was nothing new to Ian. What else was there in this small town for them to do except explore? He didn’t have anything against them, personally, but he’d prefer not to have any of his priceless antiques shattered or bent by a particularly playful college kid. Most of them couldn’t afford to pay for their transgressions, and he really didn’t want to have to deal with their parents, so a gruff warning was usually in order to keep them from making messes they’d have to work hard to clean up.

This one, though…he smelled like money. That was enough to make Ian peer up from his ledger to get a proper look at the young man. Was he here as an observer like so many others his age, or was he actually looking to buy something? How very curious.

In a slightly gentler but equally serious tone Ian added, “If you find something that piques your curiosity, call me over. I’d be happy to tell you more about it.” A half-smile briefly flashed over his face, not entirely reaching his eyes before they became once again fixated on the ledger he’d been updating. Customer service wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, but if he hired a salesperson, he’d have to train them, which sounded even more exhausting.

[ironwoodwizard]

Name: Ian D’Arcy

Age: 240 (looks to be late 20’s-early 30’s)

Birthday: October 13, 1783

Gender: male

Sexuality: bisexual

Race: vampire

Appearance: dark loosely curly hair, brown eyes that turn a fathomless black if you look directly at them for too long, pale and too-smooth skin, sharp porcelain-white fangs, tall and lanky form. Greatly resembles his father, but he has his mother’s smile.

FC: young Johnny Depp

Personality: very…odd. Eccentric. Highly intelligent and intuitive, but he doesn’t lord it over others unless he finds it too amusing not to (usually does it to those who insist that they know everything, or especially heinous charlatans). Known as the town weirdo, and he relishes in it in a mostly subtle way. Absolutely a theater kid. Quick-witted goth dude with a heart of gold that he playfully insists is cold and black. Has a background in psychology and criminology and continuously studies it as a hobby. Low-key anarchist. Hates being stuck in boring meetings, and his patience for people only goes so far in settings where he’s forced to sit still(this developed after he was turned; as a mortal, he was well known for his patience in court).

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Powers/Abilities: telekinesis (up to 100 lbs without much effort, but he can lift more if he really pushes himself; the more he lifts, the more it drains him. Heaviest thing he’s lifted/moved was a 300-ish-pound bookshelf that nearly fell on him, and he blacked out afterward.) Fanged bite/exsanguination. Healing factor (drinking blood helps him quickly heal wounds that aren’t caused by holy water or blessed weapons. Burns from sunlight or rushing water heal slowly.) Flight (sort of. His telekinesis allows him to make himself levitate for short periods of time or glide short distances.) Prophecy (when he was a mortal, he often had dreams where glimpses of future events flashed before him. He could not make sense of them unless hypnotized. As a vampire, the visions are much less erratic, and he has learned how to induce them instead of waiting for them to come.) Spiderclimb (he can walk on walls, ceilings, and inverted surfaces as if gravity has no effect on him.) Excellent poker face. Hypnotic gaze (making direct deliberate eye contact with someone for a moment too long puts them under his thrall, though he cannot command a thrall to do anything that they wouldn’t normally be able to do. He often wears dark sunglasses to avoid doing this on accident.) Shapeshifting (he can turn into a bat or a black cat, and is resistant to sunlight in cat form.) Excellent deductive reasoning skills.

Flaws/Weaknesses: Sunlight sensitivity (daylight burns him unless his skin is fully covered, and he has limited day vision), running water (burns him), holy water (burns him), blessed weapons (burn him and do lasting damage), elder wood stake through his heart (paralyzes him until it is removed. If he’s decapitated by a blessed weapon while in this state, he dies. If the stake is blessed, he dies instantly.)

Nationality: English, American

Languages: English, Latin

Style: usually Regency or Victorian gothic inspired, though he dresses more casually when at home and not expecting guests. A lot of black and white with dark jewel-toned accents. Takes great care in his appearance when he knows he’s going to be dealing with people.

Profession: Antique/Curio Shop Owner (current), Lorekeeper (aka Dungeon Master/Game Master. He’s one of the few regulars who show up to run tables at the tavern’s monthly D&D nights), Freelance Detective (former, when he was still mortal, and for a short time after he immigrated to America.), Magistrate (original, while he was still mortal. He wanted to do more to help his village, so he began sleuthing, using his position to gain as much information on various crimes as possible.)

Family: Maeve D’Arcy (née Watson, mother, deceased), Arno D’Arcy (father, deceased), Caolán D’arcy ( pronounced Keelan, younger brother, disappeared, presumed deceased), Robyn D’Arcy (triplet sister, alive, vampire), Sadie D’Arcy (triplet sister, alive, vampire)

Backstory: Born to descendants of French nobles and Scots-Irish merchants in October of 1783, Ian was the second in a set of fraternal triplets. He was brought up in a small but well off village not far from London, taught by the best tutors his father could afford, and groomed from a young age to become a proper magistrate and courtly gentleman. His sisters were educated in much the same manner, set to enter into high society in the same year that he first took his apprenticeship; they were seventeen at the time. A little over a decade later, Ian officially became a magistrate and heard his first case. The case seemed rather simple; a traveling man had been accused of stealing sheep from a local farmer under the cover of darkness for a little over a week, and several witnesses testified that they’d seen him lurking around that farm at or around dusk. The defendant rather adamantly pleaded not guilty, stating that he’d only been watching the farm because he’d seen some strange entity sneak in on his first night in town, and he wanted to see if he could catch it for a reward. Something about the case didn’t sit right with Ian. He knew in his heart that the man was innocent, but he had just as much proof that claim as the rest of the town had of his guilt. Siding with his gut, he announced that they would take a two day recess so that he could investigate the matter further, much to the townsfolk’s disdain. To placate them and protect the defendant, he had him temporarily locked up before asking the farmer to give him a private tour of his farm. The investigation yielded few clues, aside from two sets of boot print tracks and a trace amount of dried blood on the fence, but the most intriguing detail came later that night. Another sheep was stolen, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that the traveler could not have been the thief after all. Ian declared him innocent and set him free, though he publicly resolved to find out who the mutton thief truly was. The case took months to solve, as the thief was extremely elusive, and Ian and his two colleagues had other cases to hear in the meantime, most disturbing of which was the murder of the traveler, who was found a week later, mauled and drained of blood. Ian couldn’t help feeling responsible, but that only strengthened his resolve. He was determined to find and prosecute the culprit of this heinous crime once and for all. In the meantime, more livestock were stolen, and when they were moved inside locked barns for the night, people started to go missing. Bodies were discovered in bushes and ditches, mauled and drained, just like the traveler had been. With the fifth body, there was a note written in elegant script with what was most likely the last remaining drops of her blood:

‘You should have left the sheep out for me. Now I’ve developed a taste for daughters instead.’

All of the victims aside from the traveler had indeed been young women, which made the killing spree all the more disturbing, but also triggered something in Ian’s mind. He’d read many Eastern European tomes on the occult in his youth, having had a fascination with morbidity, and recalled several creatures that feasted on blood under cover of night. Vampires. They were dealing with a vampire, though what kind he did not precisely know. He doubted that it was a strigoi, as they were spirits and couldn’t leave boot prints or write. More research was in order. In the meantime, he conferred with the other two magistrates, and they declared a curfew. Citizens must be locked indoors from half an hour before sundown to half an hour after sunrise. The townsfolk readily complied, terrified of losing more young ladies to this horror of the night. Ian, meanwhile, through himself into researching various vampire legends from around the world, and determined his foe to be a Nosferatu, a bloodthirsty humanoid creature native to Romania that was vulnerable to sunlight and capable of turning humans into vampires. All a victim had to do was drink its blood after having been bitten themselves, but most never survived long enough unless the Nosferatu wanted them to. A human turned by Nosferatu would then become an immortal Draconian vampire, retaining their youth and beauty for as long as they retained their humanity, but never able to bask in heaven’s light again. Running water was also a bane to them, eroding their skin as if it were sandstone, and a stake crafted of elder wood could immobilize them if driven through the heart with enough force.

Filled with renewed determination and youthful hubris, Ian set out to hunt down the dastardly beast, commissioning the local arbalista to make him a crossbow that could launch a wooden stake. Thankfully, the man was an experimental sort, always up for a grand challenge; he had a prototype ready in no time. Ian whittled stakes from elder wood in his free time while he waited, unaware that his sister Robyn had already been turned by the beast and was urging Sadie and young Caolán to pursue its gifts as well.

Sadie was eager to comply, having grown bored of her wealthy but snobbish husband, but Caolán was hesitant. He was only eighteen, after all, and just made his debut in society. He wasn’t ready to give up on life as he knew it when his life had only just begun. Robyn didn’t let up. She and Caolán argued back and forth for weeks until he suddenly disappeared without a trace. The night beforehand, Ian was plagued with nightmarish visions that he couldn’t make sense of, but stayed with him throughout the following day. Hoping to ease her brother’s pain, a newly turned Sadie briefly hypnotized him, making the visions slower and much clearer. He saw a familiar door, and a pale, shaking hand grasping the knob. It was locked. The owner of the hand pounded on the door, screaming for help in a voice that he recognized as Caolán’s, but was not let in. It had grown dark. There was a jolt has he was yanked backwards, a clawed hand wrapping around his throat as another gripped his torso and dragged him away. Fighting. Kicking. Screaming. It was one hell of a struggle, but it was all in vain. Ian could do nothing but watch through Caolán’s eyes as the Nosferatu pinned him up against a tree, the rough bark scraping at his back as he stared up at its grinning, horrifying, hauntingly beautiful, gaunt face. It said something that Ian couldn’t quite make out before lunging forward to dig its sharp teeth into the young man’s throat. Caolán’s scream was cut off as Ian’s vision faded, and the magistrate fainted from the stress.

By the time he woke up, night had already fallen again. He’d been too late to save his little brother. Heartbroken and frustrated, he set out anyway, crossbow in hand and rage festering in his vengeful heart. He was hellbent on killing the vampire, even if it was the last thing he’d do. Ian stalked the streets by the light of the full moon, hypervigilant and itching to pull the trigger. He quickly became aware that he was being followed, and began taking sharp turns through alleys and around buildings in an effort to throw off his stalker, or perhaps get a glimpse of them. No luck. He quickened his pace. So did they. Stalking became chasing as he began to run, sprinting for the woods, only to run headlong into Robyn just after making it past the tree line. He demanded to know why she was there instead of safe at home. She didn’t answer. Neither did Sadie after she revealed herself, and Ian came to the horrifying conclusion that they had been turned, luring him out there to meet the same fate as his poor little brother. Eyes widening in fear and pain, he turned to run again just as the Nosferatu slammed into him, knocking him to the ground easily. The rest of that night was a blur. A sharp pain in his neck. The pull of the trigger. Blood. So much blood. And a hunger for life that had to be sated then and there.

When he awoke the next morning in a basement that had been outfitted to be a temporary bedroom, his sisters explained everything. Robyn had been attacked by the Nosferatu the night before the curfew was set in place and enthralled by it to convince her siblings and the family members of the other two magistrates to let it turn them. If they did not comply, they would be slaughtered. Under its influence, Robyn started with Sadie and Caolán, though she had no idea what had happened to the latter after she’d locked him out of the house. Ian was the last remaining member of his family who needed to be turned before they could get to the other magistrates, but he’d managed to incapacitate the Nosferatu in the process, breaking its hold on his sisters, and somehow knew to drink its blood to save himself from death. Ian remarked that he’d done his research. The vampiric triplets then resolved to try and resume their normal lives while they searched for their little brother, whom they presumed to be dead in the woods somewhere. He was never found. Ian was able to remain in his post of magistrate for another decade and a half before rumors began to spread about his ageless appearance, skillful avoidance of daylight, and peculiar change in demeanor. By the early 1830’s, he and his sisters were forced to either leave town or be executed as witches. They parted ways afterwards, with Ian departing for America, Robyn fleeing to Switzerland to meet with a brilliant doctor she’d been writing to, and Sadie traveling to Venice with her husband, whom she’d turned shortly after the Nosferatu was dealt with.

They’ve all kept in touch throughout the centuries. Ian used his vampiric abilities to become elected as a magistrate in Richmond after reaching Virginia, managing to keep a low profile while judging cases fairly and helping with the Underground Railroad. The Civil War made things far more complicated. It was tragic, for sure, and he hated not being able to aid those in need, but the scent of blood hung thick in the air, maddening him. He found it difficult to keep control of his feeding habits, and was forced to flee up north to Canada in hopes of finding peace. After the war was over, it took him over a century to feel comfortable setting foot in America again, and he never stayed in one place for too long, studying psychology and collecting books and knickknacks as he went a long to keep himself occupied. The 1980’s brought him to Texas, one of the few states he’d never been to before, where he found the small, oddly idyllic and peaceful town of Morningstar. It was there that he finally settled down and made a life for himself, encouraged by the welcome attitude of its residents, a quarter of which were supernatural in nature. He opened up a curio shop to display and sell some of the antiques he’d collected, and often offered his services as a pro bono private investigator for those who could not afford to hire one. He also developed a love of board games and table top role playing games, as they allowed him to further explore his sense of whimsy.