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<blockquote data-quote="doghead" data-source="post: 2127586" data-attributes="member: 8243"><p>OK. Smart 2/Something Else 1.</p><p></p><p><em>For as long as she can remember, her family has hunted the forces of darkness. Her father, tacturn, tactical, intractable. Her eldest brother, light and lithe. Her younger brother, brave and as brutal as the shotgun he weilded. From lamp lit east coast metropolises, to the starlit expanses of the wild west they fought. An endless, silent, unseen war raged in the hours from dusk to dawn. Mostly.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>But Jiania was wrong. They were not her family, and they did not hunt the damned. They were hunted. For years her family had hidden the truth from her. For years they had protected her. But last night, one by one, Rath's booming shotgun, Derricks flickering blade and her father's arcane hexes were overwhelmed, stilled, silenced by the monstrous thing that came out of the darkness that cloaked the small farm.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Perhaps it if had come alone things would have been different. But with it came shuffling, shambling ragged parodies of people that swept out of the darkness and threw themselves mindlessly at the farm and its defenses.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>And Jianna. Jianna. In those dark hours before dawn Jianna should have died. Jianna would have died if Jianna was all that she was. In those dark hours Jianna discovered she was something else. Something emerged, erupted, exaulted. Divine.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>But in the grey light of dawn, surrounded by the bodies of her "family" and the shattered farmhouse she struggles to remember. The memories are fractured and fragmentary. Her mind shys from returning there. Whatever she is, or is becoming, it will have to wait until she can give it her attention. For right now she has to bury the bodies of the only family she has ever known, and then get the hell out of here. The sun is approaching its zenith as she hammers in the last cross. Words fail her, so she just stands in silence, tears streaming down her face. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>She gathers up what little remains of her family's possessions; Raths shotgun, Derricks blade and her father's diary (incomprehensible). The last of the water is used to sluice away the sweat and dust. Dressed once more in canvas pants and a warm leather jacket, a battered hat pulled low, she mounts "Horse" and sets off west - chasing the day or fleeing the approaching night she is not really sure.</em></p><p></p><p>Half Celestial 1? OK, perhaps another dodgy idea. It kinda came to me as I was watching some of the Darkwatch clips. The half celestial template is rather powerful (+4 LA), so I though maybe it could be taken as levels.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="doghead, post: 2127586, member: 8243"] OK. Smart 2/Something Else 1. [i]For as long as she can remember, her family has hunted the forces of darkness. Her father, tacturn, tactical, intractable. Her eldest brother, light and lithe. Her younger brother, brave and as brutal as the shotgun he weilded. From lamp lit east coast metropolises, to the starlit expanses of the wild west they fought. An endless, silent, unseen war raged in the hours from dusk to dawn. Mostly. But Jiania was wrong. They were not her family, and they did not hunt the damned. They were hunted. For years her family had hidden the truth from her. For years they had protected her. But last night, one by one, Rath's booming shotgun, Derricks flickering blade and her father's arcane hexes were overwhelmed, stilled, silenced by the monstrous thing that came out of the darkness that cloaked the small farm. Perhaps it if had come alone things would have been different. But with it came shuffling, shambling ragged parodies of people that swept out of the darkness and threw themselves mindlessly at the farm and its defenses. And Jianna. Jianna. In those dark hours before dawn Jianna should have died. Jianna would have died if Jianna was all that she was. In those dark hours Jianna discovered she was something else. Something emerged, erupted, exaulted. Divine. But in the grey light of dawn, surrounded by the bodies of her "family" and the shattered farmhouse she struggles to remember. The memories are fractured and fragmentary. Her mind shys from returning there. Whatever she is, or is becoming, it will have to wait until she can give it her attention. For right now she has to bury the bodies of the only family she has ever known, and then get the hell out of here. The sun is approaching its zenith as she hammers in the last cross. Words fail her, so she just stands in silence, tears streaming down her face. She gathers up what little remains of her family's possessions; Raths shotgun, Derricks blade and her father's diary (incomprehensible). The last of the water is used to sluice away the sweat and dust. Dressed once more in canvas pants and a warm leather jacket, a battered hat pulled low, she mounts "Horse" and sets off west - chasing the day or fleeing the approaching night she is not really sure.[/i] Half Celestial 1? OK, perhaps another dodgy idea. It kinda came to me as I was watching some of the Darkwatch clips. The half celestial template is rather powerful (+4 LA), so I though maybe it could be taken as levels. [/QUOTE]
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