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Rosie Ramses

Here's a bit of backstory for a character i'll be playing in my friend Michael's Victorian era Mutants and Masterminds 3E game. The setting is from a different source, there are dinosaurs, steam airships, lots of clockwork stuff. I think it's going to be a hoot.

Having been a kid when her Dad was killed (I can’t recall what i said in the previous history), but I’m going with 16 at that time. It’s now 9 years later, she’s lived in various parts of Central, South America, from Mexico to Peru. Then she somehow ended up in Tasmania, and Australia. Haven’t worked out that part yet, but here’s a taste of what she’s like:

She references her past with “That Time In,” a lot because she’s still really a teenager. She may have done a Timothy Leary amount of Psychedelic adventuring with shamans witch doctors, dream walkers, Feathered Serpents? Definitely a Psychedelic Dinosaur adventure in there somewhere. 

I want her to be a bit naive about the real world, with maybe some juvenile stereotypes, about class and more civilized culture, but is very wise in terms of Anthropology, the past, arcane, or otherwise. She’s more comfortable in a freaky mystical adventure, than she is at High tea, by a longshot. Maybe I can adjust certain skills accordingly... I’ll send you an udate on that part soon. But I like where it’s going now. The highly skilled, dangerous, woman now living in a quickly industrializing world, If Jane were Tarzan, but instead of apes she grew up around archaeologists.  

She can speak, understand any language but has a hard time with small talk in any of them. She has rarely ever relaxed since her father’s death, and maybe didn’t know it when she had let her guard down, getting her in the odd bit of hanky panky. So focussed on whatever the “mission” is, and getting it done no matter the cost. She gained power, experience, knowledge, but lacks a life. In The Dreamtime she learned that she need to repair that part of herself, to move forward, stop fighting the ghost of her father, let him go. So she’s back to London, and has some contacts from her various adventures, unsure who to go to first.

Journal of The Woman Who Was Wise In Two Worlds

Excerpt #1a {opening “Diary entry"}

The first thing I did upon my return to London, was to go straight to my favourite book maker and get myself a brand new journal to write down all the adventures that have been locked in my brain seeking escape through a lovely pen and the lunar luminescence that is Indian Ink. This book, in fact that i’m carefully writing in; something I haven’t done in nearly 3 years, since that time at Macchu Pichu with the shaman, and all those serpents! Oh. I do get ahead of myself. 

I want to put down in my journal of what happened when I struck out on my own after the death of my father, famed Egyptologist (the first man e’er called such, perhaps, Oh Dad!) at his Valley of the Kings Dig.

Maybe I’m a suspect, having fled? Oh those many years ago (well 9 years is a lot of time to someone still a maid in her early 20’s ) I have spent all of my “adulthood on the run from not-so-Savage Savages, looting their temples, or helping them in times of Revolution, Famine, War, & ultimately on two separate continents, Plague. But also there were good times, fellowship, scholarship. I feel as though I know the world, despite spending all my life, so I think I could handle that. Moore likely seeing: me; only as a child, and not a child who survived when all others died, and  one who was an expert at the age of 12 in several north African dialects and languages, and an encyclopedia of information on Ancient Egypt, her Pharaohs, and all, and an experienced desert walker, camper. I’m a survivor. Most likely they have me down as dead. I will have to discover these “facts” discreetly.

But on to my story while I still have my enthusiasm!

Barely, I survived, and found my way to Cairo in a bit of a haze. I think I had what I’ve since learned (from the nicest Spaniards in El Dorado) is a serious concussion. I was pretty confused, the whole time, but somehow booked passage (I later found my tickets in my luggage, no recall of buying them) and awoke feeling fresh as the proverbial daisy aboard a Boat or Ship, whatever those sailors (strange lot, them) call their prisons upon the sea.

I felt a fear of the open sea that made me nauseous, until I learned from others to chew certain roots (I will have detailed samples and charts available with this journal when I present it to The National Geographic Society) and the seasickness abated, somewhat. I learned Spanish and French while traversing the Atlantic Ocean, it was fun, except when it wasn’t, onboard. I can’t say I miss it, or enjoyed my much plusher accommodations returning to England now for the first time since I was but 6 years old. 

It’s kind of mad, isn’t it, that I knew how to get to my stationer’s for my diary to write in, not having seen London, since I was 6, and having been so far and wide as the desert and plains of Africa, deep in the jungle, and in the gigantic cities (to my teenage eyes) of Peru, On the ocean and in the desert, upon The Rock, through the Dream time... in The Strange Land called Australia.
I went to South America first via Cuba, Mexico... Pyramids! I had learned virtually nothing of the various tribes of indigenous Americas, any of them. Overlooked field, that I hope to elucidate with this journal, should I ever start getting to the point. 

Which is this, the hieroglyphs, and pyramids of the various cultures I encountered in my travels, as “The girl who is not fooling us by pretending she is a boy, but we leave her alone because she seems to be able to master any language in a matter of hours”. (Nowadays it only takes me one really good conversation, to get the gist of the few languages I haven’t discovered yet. I was really useful, and as it turned out a deft hand at helping figure out some ancient symbology. I also made a few enemies, even early on. 

Using my contacts from the boat (and some of my father’s actual credentials, money I had managed to swipe and not lose before getting on the ship.) I signed on with a Spanish “Dig”, which was more of a looting operation, I learned from the locals, along the way. Those were the first enemies I made. Though I don’t see how they could’ve survived that fall from the top of the pyramid.  The locals thanked me, fed me, stole a lot of my dad’s papers (which were useless to me in central America.) And gave me a jade ring that was my lucky  charm until I needed to trade it for a man’s immortal soul, that time in the outback.

{End of Fragment #1a}


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