Categories
Characters: Fantasy

Monica

Woman pretending to be an old lady chef on a pirate ship because she is hiding from DANGERS.

Name: Monica (If that’s your real name!) (Monique Loncrae)
Age: She will tell you she’s 73 or 52 or 107. And you can’t try to confirm it by removing that hood of hers or she’ll hit you with her cane. When Monica isn’t careful she’ll sound like a women in her late twenties or early thirties.
Gender: Female. We think.
Race: Human. …most likely.
Job/Profession/Etc.: Cook on the Hushed Phantom. (You’ll eat it and LIKE it or it’s a cane beating for you.)
Appearance: Monica wears a big brown cloak with an oversized hood that is so good at hiding her features, that it’s near impossible to tell what she actually looks like. At least from a distance you can see she stands around 5’3″ when she’s hunched over and nearer 5’7″ as she’s standing up on her toes and reaching stock off shelves. Occasionally you’ll catch a glimpse of pale bony hands with smooth skin. Sneaky individuals insist that her hair is a dark brown. (Her actual appearance, is bordering on sickly. She’s underweight to the point where you can clearly see her bone structure, (even she doesn’t want to eat her own cooking!) and unnaturally pale. There is a wound at her shoulder that isn’t healing well.)
Personality: What a sweet, charming… slightly deranged old woman. Monica keeps to her kitchen, where it’s quiet, empty, and she’s got lots of knives. When speaking to people she seems to be that dear old granny, offering plenty of unwanted advice or ridiculously senile comments that have nothing to do with the current situation. If you managed to get her alone and started asking too many personal questions, she’d either swiftly change the topics or simply threaten you with violence. Monica is a live and let live person, that everyone just seems to tolerate. (As for Monica’s real personality… She’s so caught up in her own disguise that she’s not so sure herself. Monica is pretty suspicious of everyone. The more friendly they are, they more suspicious they seem.)
Weapon(s) of Choice: Monica carries around some old mangled stick as a cane. If she loses it, she just finds a new one. Occasionally she’ll have kitchen knives hidden in her cloak.
Strengths: Mastery of disguise is certainly a strength! For all her weirdness, no one has (yet) to figure out who Monica is. She seems to be pretty accurate at throwing kitchen knives, and certainly knows all the most painful places to strike a person with a cane.
Weaknesses: Monica is hiding who she is, and making sure no one digs deep enough to figure it out is such a top priority that she’ll put everyone, including herself at peril to cover it back up. She’ll get “weird” in small boats, walking the plank, or over small bridges that cross water. In a heavy storm she’ll get so sea sick that no one dares to eat dinner, for it may very well be what Monica ate yesterday. Zero alcohol tolerance.
History: Monica is… a mystery! She joined the crew one day as a cook, and is so convincing (or at least convincing enough) as some crackpot old women, that no one has seen any reason to dig any deeper. The few that did earned themselves a few hits with her cane and didn’t dare ask again.

The Truth: Monica doesn’t even know who she is. What Monica does know is that she’s in trouble. Big, dangerous, “Oh crap, someone is trying to kill me.” kind of trouble. Waking up one day stranded on a sandy beach, Monica was completely voided from memory of what happened. The only clues she had to go on were the bracelet she still wore (“Inner Inscription: These gates are only closed to those who run away.”), a bullet still lodged in her shoulder and bloodstained clothes. Monica figured whatever it was, it might be in her best interests to be someone else. The name Monica seemed to suit her fine, so after getting herself bandaged up and cleverly disguised she picked out a life that sounded safe. A cook on a random vessel. Thus, Monica the Old Woman Cook does her daily duty, minds her own business, and stays out of trouble. …For now.

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