C'est pas vrai, Peter.

Samedi, 16h. Williamsburg et Bushwick, Brooklyn

Pierre était désespérément, frustrantment perdu. Ce n'est que par la grâce de plusieurs étrangers que Pierre fut même en mesure d'aller aussi loin, le mystérieux magnétophone étant inutile en dehors de recevoir des directions de gens qui pouvaient effectivement lire. La détresse a commencé à ramper dans sa colonne vertébrale, ce qui a rendu ses épaules incomfortablement tendues. Ce n'était pas comme ce sentiment qu'il a eu quand il s'est perdu dans l'épicerie comme un enfant, toute la situation lui a fait se sentir très, très petit.
Avec un grognement Peter l'a secoué, au lieu de se concentrer sur les douleurs de la faim qui avaient commencé à tirer à travers son système plus tôt aujourd'hui. Cela faisait un moment qu'il n'y avait pas eu de "repas" et bien que l'idée d'une plongée dans les poubelles ne soit pas exactement son idée d'un bon moment, la nourriture était généralement assez bonne par rapport à ce qu'il a été donné dans les mines de Bourgeuckung. Prenez les petites victoires où vous une, on suppose. Pêcher dans sa poche, Pierre a creusé la note que quelqu'un a écrit pour lui pendant qu'il demandait des instructions.
"Le coin de Williamsburg et Bushwick." Il a dit, ou c'est ce que Peter pensait qu'il avait dit au moins. Il a décidé de faire ce qu'il pouvait et a essayé de faire correspondre les symboles sur le papier avec ceux sur les signes et maudit silencieusement son analphabétisme pour la centième fois au cours du dernier mois. Il ne lui a pas fallu beaucoup de temps pour trouver quelque chose, bien qu'il ne soit pas venu avec sa rééducation naissante dans la langue écrite, mais dans un vert, plante comme quelqu'un jetant quelque chose derrière eux avant d'entrer dans un bâtiment. Cette vue seule signifiait probablement qu'il était au bon endroit et Peter se lassait de lire de toute façon.
Il s'est rapidement dirigé vers la porte et l'a ouvert un peu trop brutalement dans sa hâte, en se frappant la tête dans le cadre de la porte avant de se faufiler dans la dame verte de l'extérieur.
Name:
Peter
Age:
27 (Born in 1970)
Gender:
Male
Seeming:
Ogre
Court:
N/A
Appearance:
Mask: Peter is a gargantuan man, towering over most men at a staggering 7'4. His entire body carries the story of pain and hard labour, from his tanned, leathery skin to the rippling muscles that lay underneath them. Even streaks of soot and dust seem to pepper his body and clothes, inevitably returning to his person no matter how many times he scrubs them off. Normally this combination of features would make him a fairly intimidating figure, however pity seems to be the most common. Wicked scars cover his body, mostly old burns that cover his arms, legs, and parts of his chest, and claw wounds from fending off underground beasties marking his shoulders and stomach. However the the real monsters are the ones on his back. A ragged mess of ugly scars that could have only come from a whip. With nothing to be said about the destroyed hole that would have held his left eye.
Mien: Dropping the mask is as explosive as it is terrifying. His flesh blackens and becomes cracked, a inner flame corrupting his flesh into a blasted wasteland. The empty eye socket that once held his left eye is filled with a roaring flame while his right eye becomes painfully bloodshot and wild eyed. Peter's mouth appears to have been sewed shut, but with flesh rather than any thread and the fires that burn inside spill out of his mouth like a dragon before the flame. His tongue has long since burned away and his voice seems to emanate somewhere deep within his chest, giving his voice a deep, dangerous quality that he can't really help with. The fresher scars on his shoulders and stomach open but do not bleed, instead ash and embers seem to spill out and waft about in a choking aura that gives him the smell of ash and burnt flesh when angry. Finally iron bars poke out of his flesh, peppering the right side of his chest, shoulders, and right arm. Some of them grow to wicked lengths that must be snapped off and they have also pushed out his fingernails and teeth, replacing them with sharp black iron.
History:
It could be said that Peter never really lived before he was spirited away, just barely ten years old at the time. However he was happy, he had a father he looked up to, a mother who loved him with all her heart, with a new addition to the family on the way. Peter couldn't have been happier, and with a hike to Mount St. Helens on the way, how could anything go wrong?
Naturally everything went wrong when, while walking near the mountain a decent sized earthquake caused the fury of hell to be unleashed on earth. Mount St. Helens exploded, the weakened earth and stone causing an avalanche of superheated ash and stone charging down the mountain side. To this day the sound haunts Peter, along with the look on his mother's face as a long, clawed arm reached through a crack in the ground and yanked her only son through before being incinerated.
Peter's trip through the hedge was particularly violent as the True Fae who stole him, Bergentrückung, cared very little for his new toy's wellbeing. Half mad and beyond scared by the time Peter was taken to Bergentrückung's domain, Peter was soon strapped down into a table and... examined. If one horribly thing could be said about Fae medicine, is that it is tragically effective. After his master was satisfied with poking through his guts Peter was sewn back up, slapped with a salve that healed everything up, and tossed into the mines with everyone else.
The work was hard, with Peter going to sleep with bloody and broken hands more than anything else for the first few years but the worst of it came from the other Ogres. They ignored Peter at best or took out their own pain on him at worst, with the only exception of Geraldine. Geraldine was a relative newcomer, like Peter, and she did everything in her power to protect him from the horrors of the mine. Unfortunately, she never did have much power. More often than not she got in between the aggressors and Peter before taking the beating for him. And so it went on, Peter growing stronger and his body twisting to better accommodate his labours while Geraldine grew weaker.
Geraldine was always a little weaker than everyone else, not physically, but emotionally... or maybe she was stronger, peter was never sure. Nonetheless she never gave into the heartlessness, tucking away the bit of you that feels pain and compassion so that she could bare with the weight of everything. So it's no surprise that one day, she just gave up. After a particularly hard beating and... other things, Geraldine just decided she had had enough and let go. Right before she passed she apologized to Peter before handing him an old, trashed ring that she had been keeping a secret. Peter was inconsolable, years of pain, anger, and frustration bubbling over into a sobbing wreck that quickly changed into a screaming rage.
Before he even knew what he was doing Peter had tackled one of the bastards and began to rip him apart. Flesh, blood, and bone flew across the Ogre pit as Peter dug into his work. Then he went after another, and another. By the time Bergentrückung found out what was happening Peter had killed five of the seven bastards, and he was decidedly not happy. No one broke his toys but him.
He placed Peter into his personal chamber where in he tortured Peter for months. Disassembled and put back together, made into kindling for his cauldron, and his personal favorite, being forced to drink molten gold. By the time Bergentrückung had felt that Peter had learned his lesson Peter had lost two things, his eye and any scrap of the young boy who first came here. For the next seven years Peter fostered a deep, seething hatred for not only Bergentrückung but for the metals and jewels he was constantly digging up. It grew until finally, Peter did something about it.
One day, as Bergentrückung made his rounds around his forge, Peter had snuck behind a great vat of molten gold and waited. When "The King Under the Mountain" came to inspect his ingots Peter pushed with ever ounce of his might into tipping the vat over. The pain was indescribable, his flesh searing as he strained. It worked and the cry of pain is a sound that Peter will savor for the rest of his days, the feeling of a giant hand crushing his ribs is something he's less eager to remember. As it turns out, it's much harder to kill a True Fae than it is an Ogre.
Screaming with the fury of Mount St. Helens herself, Bergentrückung smashed Peter into the rock before taking him outside and throwing him like a stone. Peter landed like a comet into the Hedge. He most certainly would have died if not for the actions of a more benign Hobgoblin finding his broken body. They nursed him back to health and even gave him an exit, all Peter had to do in return was sign a contract for one "Favor" that the Hobgoblin would come collect sometime in the future. Peter knew not to trust the thing completely, but he didn't have much of a choice.
Since then he has been bumming around Oregon, lost in a world he doesn't recognize. However it hasn't been all bad, in fact he's ecstatic. Sure he's always worried about something coming to get him but he's doing that while being Free. It isn't easy, it isn't hardly fair, but he's alive and he's free.
Personality:
The easiest way to describe peter would be a child with every ounce of innocence beaten out of them. He was forced to grow up fast and has been deprived of even the barest minimum of intimacy and compassion, with no higher knowledge than that of a ten year old. However this isn't always a terribly thing.
Despite everything Peter was able to retain his sense of wonder. He would stand awestruck when he found a cluster of glowing fungus in the mines, or try to catch a small insect out of curiosity. Even now, the level of technology is mind boggling compared to what was around during the 70's and anything new he learns is another crazy miracle in his eyes. Ultimately his escape has installed an optimism that has been missing for a really long time.
Skills:
Earthbreaker: part of Peter's duties under Burgentruckung was the excavation of his endless mines in search of coal, gems, and precious metals. Because of this he can spot the weaknesses in any stone structure with ease.
Bonecracker: A common danger in the mines are the many types of beasts that like to make their homes in the earth and, since no tools were given, Peter and those like him were forced to adopt a fighting style that involved blows that would cripple and agonize their foe.
Supernatural Powers:
Compared to many other Changelings Peter is pretty tame. He is incredibly strong, even by Ogre standards, and his skin resistant all but the hottest flames. His sense of hearing and smell is highly developed, even his remaining eye is highly adapted to low light vision. However he does have one, more supernatural ability. When sufficiently angry Peter tends to catch on fire, a cloak of searing flames that does little harm to Peter but should he get his hands on you, well... hope you like the smell of bacon.
Less supernatural but in line with his ordeal, Peter has a monstrous pain tolerance. Blows that would cripple normal people barely register in his mind.
Weaknesses:
-Ekrixphobia, or the fear of explosions. Anything louder than a small firework can set it off and every time it does he is ripped back to that ten year old boy, facing a wall of ash and fire. Peter begins to sweat, hyperventilate, and dry heave as he tries to run in the opposite direction of the blast. However he can also fly into primal rage, Fight taking over flight and discerning friend or foe becomes difficult in the haze though this is much more rare.
-Seeing jewels and precious metals inspire an intense desire to destroy them and Peter gets antsy when he can't act on it.
-Extreme light sensitivity, with bright lights giving him migraines and little to no vision.
-Screaming Crowds, and incredibly loud, sustained noises in general will painfully overwhelm his senses very quickly.
-Pain Tolerance, Peters ability, or lack thereof, to feel pain has lead to him having a very unhealthy relationship with the feeling. on the practical side he doesn't actually know how hurt he is most of the time and in addition has taken to harming himself idly in search of any physical sensation.
Possessions:
-Geraldine's Ring, a crude, tarnished gold ring that is the only exception to Peter's hatred of precious metals.
-Gargoyles, A pair of sunglasses that were given to him soon after he returned to Earth. They do a good job on hiding his facial scarring.
Other:
Darren Korb - Build That Wall
Peter is basically illiterate, his ability to read having atrophied in the constant struggle in the Ogre pits. Though given some time he'll be able to pick it up again.
Technically Peter is dead, one of the 57 casualties of the Mount St. Helens eruption.