Dylan Manx
Learsca of the Jolly Roger
Clurichaun Wilder
Navigator of the
Cyclone
Description
Mortal Seeming: ~Arr! An unimposing lad in his early 20s, Dylan Manx appears to be a bit of a mutt: half-Caucasian, half-Asian. The short fellow fancies street fashion, leaning towards pseudo-punk over hip hop. He lets his holey jeans mask his confident swagger. T-shirts advertising bands like the Sex Pistols and Flogging Molly fade until they’re nearly as pale as his freckled skin. Few see more than a gold strand about his neck, the rest of the jade clover medallion hidden under his shirt. Slanted eyes, almost hazel in hue, contain a bright, eager, and attentive span. But Dylan’s features are twisted into an almost perpetual scowl. His mean streak display is reflected in his short, russet hair, which is swept quite simply one direction or the other…he doesn’t seem to give a damn. Wherever the wind takes him, he’s there. And if it’s not on a map, well, that’s why God gave men pen and paper, now isn’t it?~
OOC: Appearance 2
Fae Mien: ~Dylan Manx can and does get shorter when his true form is revealed, as if he were pushed down a few inches. His muscle mass just spread out, cording the musculature of his chest and arms, adding to his stoutness. The Clurichaun seems more windswept as well, for his russet hair flames to a brighter red, and is hopelessly blown back on his scalp. Maybe that’s why he chooses to cover it in a felt tricorn hat complete with gold buckle. From beneath the hat, one hazel eye slanted upwards now, twinkles vibrantly. The other is covered in a black patch twined around his head, which is unremarkable in design save that it is an eye patch. Did he really lose his (chimerical) eye? One could always ask, but the more rugged and grizzled features of the changeling tend to discourage personal interviews. Still his dour lips scowl, unless wrapped around the mouth of a bottle of whiskey or rum. But he’s still careful not to spill any on his black cotton trousers that billow down over his short leather boots. Nor would Dylan be a happy camper if he were to spill any on his white skirt complete with ruffles on the collars and sleeves. And he would especially be put out if he ruined that fine bright green vest slung over his shoulder for a splash o’ color. His clover charm still be hidden under his shirt. But Dylan’s got something for you. There! Now take your beating and beat it!~
OOC: Appearance 2
"Argh! I know where we are now! Shut yer piehole and blame the bloody weather!"
History
Roadmap to Trouble
It always sucked to have a deadbeat dad like Jesse Rogers. Dylan and Freddie’s mom, Nami Manx, did her best. The half-Japanese woman was a hard-working lady for her two sons; welfare helped. Dylan dwelled in an inner city apartment in the heart of Seattle, Washington, having to share a room with his little brother, at least until Freddie ran away from home. It was a pretty poor environment, and the boys were met with poverty and crime daily. Maybe that was why Freddie fled when Dylan was twelve, in 1996.
Sure, Dylan missed his little brother. But their upbringing was dysfunctional to say the least. And their neighborhood, while it wasn’t the worst ‘hood, was far from soft. Mom did the best she could, but Dylan struggled at home and at school. He was an easily distracted and was an average student in public school. The Manxes didn’t really go to church. But Dylan had plenty of role models: his peers. Maybe that helped explain why he often got in trouble, yet usually managed to elude capture.
Sure, Dylan was quite the little juvenile, especially after Freddie was gone and he didn’t have any siblings to behave for. He always enjoyed maps, and collected as many as he could, of all varieties, from childhood. There were other signs that something was wrong with the youth. Whenever he broke rules – and later, laws – leering winged devils taunted him. They seemed to really be there: hallucinations, not mere delusions. And to Dylan, they were not just his imagination.
Less obvious was the fact that he couldn’t hold his liquor no matter how old he got: a fact his juvvie pals often teased him about. He’d get drunk even off of a thimbleful of wine. And finally, the boy was getting worse and worse migraine headaches at home. The headaches only came when he was around his overworked and banal mother and Imitrex did not help.
Chrysalis
Eventually, young Dylan just couldn’t take it anymore. In 1996, he ran away from home, too. He never learned where Freddie went, but he went his own way. He took only clothes, money, his precious maps, and the only liquor his mother currently had, a bottle of Captain Morgan’s finest. While on the road, studying his maps for fun, he made a shocking discovery! When he held this brittle old map up high at night, he saw an intricate design, a map within the map, by the light of the moon!
And this shocked Dylan “awake”. Wide awake. Now fully immersed in his Dreaming self, his fae mien, the Clurichaun Chrysalid seemed oblivious to the effects his burst of Glamour had on the rest of the world. Trees and flowers bloomed at night, giant fireflies whizzed by, fascinated, and wolves and coyotes howled louder than ever in the nearby woods. It was this forest into which Dylan wandered, where the map led. The chimerical map design drew Dylan closer and closer to a faerie glen deep in those Washingtonian woodlands.
But the glen was not unoccupied. A strange fur-less dog with intellectual eyes and a loud bark greeted the wanderer. The chimerical dog pinned Dylan into a thick copse of trees. The dog’s barking roused a handsome man in his late 30s from his cabin in the glen, and the man introduced himself. Dylan was saved on the merit that he was a Chyrsalid, and this Sidhe, this Sir Argo Zin ap Liam, upheld the Escheat laws. Dylan was taken in and helped to adapt through the Dream Dance. Luckily, the boy had a screwed-up enough life that sudden changes weren’t anything he couldn’t handle.
From Argo Dylan learned all he needed to know about the ways of the Kithain. He was almost a prisoner in the glen, allowed to soak in the freehold’s Glamour and benefit from the Sidhe’s wisdom. But he could not leave without escort, and that strange moon dog was always watching. At least Sir Argo seemed to enjoy maps, too, for he had a small collection, including some interesting chimerical ones regarding the West Coast. Over time, much to Dylan’s dismay, he watched his mentor slowly succumb to the madness of Bedlam. It seemed that Argo just spent too many years here locked away from the mundane world in a freehold. The moon dog whined and pawed at Dylan to try and get the Clurichaun to help.
But Dylan didn’t know what to do! After a traditional year and one day, Dylan was Sained with no great test besides a recital of the Escheat. And while Dylan knew the rules of the Escheat by heart now, he really didn’t give a damn about them. Having been left out of fae society detached him from the laws’ importance. And as Argo fell deeper and deeper into Bedlam, the glen grew dangerous. Random attacks by chimerical beasts, such as crows nose-diving him and swarms of killer bees, were plaguing his daily routines. So Dylan stole Argo’s maps and got the hell out of Dodge.
Un-navigated
After escaping Argo’s glen, Dylan returned to Seattle, a full-fledged faerie, and one of the only Clurichauns around. He was homeless for a few months, refusing to go back to his mother. Fortunately, the essence of Glamour burned brightly, and moths of the same stripe were drawn to the same flame. Dylan ran into other fae, an Unseelie bunch. He ended up living with an Unseelie Satyr named Phil Kant. He spent some time at home, trying to decipher the maps he stole from the Sidhe.
Meanwhile, Phil and his crew were quite the anti-nobles, anti-Sidhe bunch. Dylan ignored that crap and got a reputation for being antisocial at least. When he did go out, he ended up in many drunken brawls with fellow young fae. Usually, he got beat up (or worse, such as losing his chimerical eye down the gullet of a Redcap) by slightly older changelings, especially Redcaps and Satyrs. Nonetheless, he generally had a good time in this part of his life. He languished here in Seattle for three years before opportunity knocked in 2002.
Then out of nowhere -– due to an interpretation of his map -– he jumped town without a word to Phil. Dylan hopped on a boat, a smuggler’s craft called the Midnight Shark. They smuggled all kinds of things: drugs, people, guns, papers, food, and cigars. Whatever buyers wanted, they brought. Dylan wasn’t sure about joining this crew, but an Eshu was on board, and the Caribbean native, Jacque Denoire, was a good man…for a pirate. They both were just along for the ride, and Dylan became fast friends with the dark-skinned antihero.
Together, they voyaged up and down the east side of the Pacific Ocean. Dylan saw many wonders natural and fey out on the broad blue waters. He survived typhoons and helped Jacque and the smugglers’ captain overthrow an attempted mutiny. Dylan was rewarded richly by promotion to crew navigator, while Jacque made second mate (there were fresh openings, after all). As they traveled, Dylan mapped all maritime routes…and all possible Trods.
Arrrrr! Up the River!
But in 2004, the smugglers ran afoul of the law. The U.S. Coast Guard chased them across the Pacific. The Midnight Shark made it across the Panama Canal without event, but the heat was back on in the Caribbean. The craft docked in New Orleans and the crew scattered. Jacque and Dylan parted ways amiably. He was alone again.
Dylan decided to go north. He followed the Mississippi and then the Missouri Rivers. He traveled by foot or stolen car or boat. He tried to avoid the authorities as much as possible, and got by on petty theft (or grand theft at times). Though Dylan evaded the police, he encountered a few nasty chimerical beasties here and there. That stoked his memory of Argo, and that memory prompted Dylan to avoid other fae as he journeyed. Who knew what kind of freaks they might be? They couldn’t all be as cool as Jacque.
At least that was what Dylan believed until he met Bre’anne Tiaishia in Kansas City. They started working together…and sleeping together. Together they pursued all sorts of criminal activities, all in the hopes that some of Dylan’s maps might lead him to his ultimate “pot o’ gold”. When the two met with little success over the next couple years, it was clear that while their partnership was electric, they needed a different venue. When they heard word of a pirate gang made up entirely of fae, Dylan jumped at it. He and his Eshu lover grabbed a boat and braved the riverways, voyaging south down the rivers again to meet and join this “Haidao” crew.
Remembrance
Dylan finds that his memories of the Dreaming are vague and distant, often too distant to grasp. Actually, he regains the most lucid memories of Arcadia when he’s tippling. With effort, he can focus on them and try to recall them fully. But ironically, he’s usually too drunk to remember much of how his subconsciousness teases him.
Significant Other
Dylan ran into Bre’anne Tiaishia back in late 2004. The two both wandered to Little Asia, Kansas City, having heard that this place was home to much unclaimed treasure and wonder. They were somewhat disappointed, but meeting each other was far from a disappointment. Their mutual hunger to discover and explore brought them together and saw them through a variety of illicit adventures. But as for real success as partners-in-crime, they have seen little. Both have talents better put to maritime use, after all, and decided to head south to New Orleans and see what they could dig up. Besides a “professional” relationship, Dylan and Bre’anne lust for one another, maybe even love. So long as their romance stays as much of a roller coaster as their adventures, maybe they’ll ride it out to the end, even if the Eshu is “too tall” for him. Ha!
Bre'anne
Chimera
Compass
Level: 1
Origin: Dylan Chrysalized with this simple device and has had it through countless incarnations. It seems as eternally bound to him as his love for collecting maps. But Dylan is pretty sure he didn't bring it with him from Arcadia. No, he seems to recall stealing it from the captain of a ghost ship...
Description: This pocket-sized compass seems to be made of fine copper. Its white face with black marks and a gold needle is simple. It was built into a small case built from white ash wood.
Effects: It can tell one's cardinal direction, even in the Near Dreaming (the deeper elements of the Dreaming would be pushing it).
Glamour Costs: Compass: 0; #1: 0
Activation: Flip it open and stand still. The needle and earth's magnetic field does the rest.
Bunk Styles
Style: Magic Realism
Examples: Draw a map, walk widdershins 3 times, listen to a seashell, jump off a building (or from the crow’s nest)
Weakness
Pot o' Gold
Just because Dylan looks like a leprechaun doesn't mean he has a pot of gold. On the other hand, just because he is a Clurichaun doesn't mean he does not want a pot of gold (or several pots). He hungers for wealth and glory. Dylan longs for the maps he collects not just because of their artistic and intrinsic value but because he wants what "X" marks on those maps. Besides this greed, simply longing for wealth instead of the simplicity of his maps insures he will have great trouble achieving happiness.
Likelihood of Corruption
High.
Dylan is willing to venture into places that are dangerous to mind and body. He's also a greedy, drunken pirate, and what wrongs he hasn't committed...might be because he's young and hasn't gotten around to 'em yet!
Links
Character Stats
Character Profiles
Coalition of Little Asia
The Haidao
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