Vagrant Lore

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"I made Vagrant out of my desire for something different. Conventional heroes are annoying as hell. He's not a mutant, he's not magically born just immune. He's a mystery, and he prefers it that way. Inspirations are Hellboy, Wolverine, and Obsidion.

Don't smoke unless your immortal kids.
Vagrant Lore
Player: @Froderick
Origin: Science
Archetype: Scrapper
Security Level: 30ish
Personal Data
Real Name: Doesn't use it
Known Aliases: None that he uses
Species: Neither beast nor man
Age: 297
Height: 6'1
Weight: 189
Eye Color: Golden
Hair Color: Dirty brown
Biographical Data
Nationality: British
Occupation: Wanderer
Place of Birth: London, England
Base of Operations: Nowhere
Marital Status: Single
Known Relatives: None
Known Powers
Affinity for darkness, longevity, Flight
Known Abilities
Mastery of the Katana, Drawn to dark magics.
Golden Katana
His many ivory body marks glow around magical powers



Vagrant has worked alone for quite some time, as such he's a typical lone hero. He doesn't like people, but he does like playing around with them, those most notably drawn to anger as it amuses him. He finds himself more at ease with older, wiser, and emotionally calm long time friends, and revels in intellectual quandaries that he has yet to arrive at absolute answers about. Confident and generally extremely cool under any duress, he even muses at end of the world threats and dangers. In combat he's like his blade, a honed cold edge. He'll comment constantly like he's having coffee with friends, and doesn't show any anger unless something of his is severely wounded or a teammate he actually cares about is down. He's Somewhat forgetful, but generally very soft spoken and intelligent on a far great number of magical properties, anatomy, scientific theory, and if you ask just right history. If he ever seems unknowing on any given topic, chances are he's pulling your leg and just bluffing ignorance. Though he honestly sometimes just doesn't know something, in which case he'll blatantly admit the fact. Since joining the Reciprocators Vagrant has made a habit in speaking in a fake southern-esque accent to mask his own normal British one, mostly just to keep cover as he really doesn't like people knowing who he really is, or how smart he is. The less they think of him, the more he can subvert and not be bothered while working.

A powerful sword and soul

Vagrant has a golden-colored Katana that he can use with dexterity that only 150ish years of training can perfect. With one swift movement he'll sunder his foes hopes, often only attacking multiples up to a dozen just for an actual challenge. Not only that, but he can miss every vital organ and simply disable if needed. Since coming to Paragon only recently, the Midnight Squad aided in finally drawing out and perfecting the darkness which was plaguing him, a darkness he inherited since his rebirth so many years ago. Now he can draw forth power from his body to harm those with malevolent intentions simply by being near them, shield his mind in shadows, and even become absolutely invisible by tricking the minds of his targets into forgetting his presence. This most recent of powers has made him read old pulp favorites, The Shadow particularly, and thus take on an actual costume in pulp style. Inherent in him is a power akin to immortality. He just won't stay dead. He will age naturally while alive like anyone else, but upon death or premature death he will return to life at a spry 26. To date he's died horrible painful deaths roughly 37 times, give or take a dozen. The latest one by a fellow Reciprocator, Rhythm Windsong, who attempted to understand the circumstances of his particularly odd powers by killing him painfully.

Incidentally, one power he still knows little of his the fact that magic can not track his existence, no spell no artifact no scroll can find his presence. His destiny and life is invisible to even the spirits which weave its tapestry. Why any of his shadow powers works he doesn't know. Being innately allergic to magic for quite some time, he gives off far more chaotic energy around magical powers than anything else, and touching those beings who are magic can cause them and himself to be burnt from the fallout of energy quite severely.

A miscalculation with genetic modifiers meant to return him to a healthy shade of human has altered his appearance further, making him grow large bone-like wings with which he can now fly. He'll hide them underneath large coats to appear as normal as he used to.


Vagrant can die..he just doesn't stay dead. When he is dead he stays that way for anything between hours to days, all depends on the severity. If his body is completely obliterated, it will eventually reform just from shadows alone. He'll be extremely lucid after being reborn, again dependent on the time spent dead. He needs time to recover from regular injuries however, only through death can his body regenerate at fantastic speeds. The only way he can recover quickly from regular pains is his newly learned Dark Regeneration, a technique which takes a while to work and is dependent on draining life from others around him.

Beside this, Vagrant cannot stand to be around those who use magics. Simply being near magic will give him an unavoidable itchy rash first at the base of his neck then his whole body. The choser magic beings get to him, the more dark energy he gives off, scaling on the sheer power and scale of the magical creatures. The energy he gives off is in a way poisonous to him and the magical beings, charring structures burning most things nearby with a deadly black and white lightning.

SPOILER FACT: Vagrant's body is why he's in Paragon, its slowly dissolving from the inside out. His heart, lungs, esophagus, kidneys, many major muscle groups and parts of his stomach are already MIA. What replaced them is a black tar material that's extremely corrosive, like eating anything from glass to bone marrow corrosive, and its slowly eating the rest of his body up. His continued existence is dependent on the power this sludge gives off, but if not stopped he'll eventually fall apart into a puddle of tar and hollow bones. Those with the power to drain the energy off of anything can pretty much kill Vagrant in moments, though he'll recover from the death as per usual, albeit with an accelerated dissolving rate.

A long history indeed, part 1

Spoiler warning: Details about story arcs or other game content follow.

To say he's lived a full life is kind of an understatement. Born in the poorest hovel in London, the summer of 1712, Vagrant grew up the son of a poor meat cutter and a halftime harlot. At twelve his father took him onto a boat and set sail for the America's, hoping for a better future than the dismal life he was growing into. Arriving months later in Paragon Harbor, Vagrant grew up much of his life in the Colonies, going from being a fish monger, mill worker, dental assistant, lab assistant, and even a mayor's aid. He joined the uprising in 1775 after being a passionate patriot for his colonies, and died April 10th of that year due to gunshot wound infections. Then...

He simply woke up, in a dirt grave no less, on the eve of July 4th, 1776. He didn't look too strange, body was healed and in better shape then ever, hell he even looked ten years younger. Shambling from his dry earth grave he wandered all the night, not really getting hungry or tired until he finally reached a city the next morning. Wandering into a pub run by a war veteran and wife, they took sympathy on the shambling Vagrant and cleaned him off. He shaved, cleaned his cloths, and after a short stay, took up arms again in the war for freedom. Assuming he'd lived through all his battles with Britain, though actually dying again three more times, he noticed himself becoming younger each day, until finally his body settled into a perky twenty six, the year of his greatest physical state of strength and endurance. The world around his taken up in arms against tyranny scarcely noticed the age regression, and there was a nation to win so he didn't take notice himself until the battle was finally won.

After the constant fighting, he finally noticed not only his dashing looks and youthful body, but the fact that he didn't need to eat. Not eating for almost a month and not sleeping for the same length, he finally sought help from a hospital, unfortunately it was the wrong one. Doctors soon learned of his bizarre physical state and, finding no reason for it, a lengthy battery of tests was issued on the hush hush. They proved his body would heal itself under any conditions, and even after killing him "accidentally" they found he would return to life no matter the cause. Some unknown force wouldn't let him die, and that was something the government wanted.

Sent by buggy to the greatest colonial military training base, our hero was subjected to testing far more extensive and much less humane than the hospital, including several purposeful killings just to see him return to life. Dubbed "The super human agenda" His name was erased from records as best as 1789 could do, and he was drafted into years after decades of unwanted overseas jobs no man could do.

Jaded from his colonial pride by 1823, he left the service of the still new United States Government while in Europe, hoping a spice boat to drop under government radar, it lead him to the far east and an important life change he'd never recover from. Arriving in Asia, China more importantly he wasn't a welcome guest, but after wandering the countryside and hoping a few more boats ended up in Japan. Planning to continue to to travel by boat to the Philippines next, he happened upon a bloody battle between Samurai and the dwindling Ronin still attached to old allegiances. Picking up a blade from a dead body, a strangely crafted golden Katana, he defended himself in the onslaught from the reformists who mistook him for another Ronin. Escaping the bloody mass only after obtaining numerous blade wounds he wandered into the hills and collapsed, sword still clutched tightly in hand.

A long history, Fuzzy and blue, Magical too

He awoke with a rush, clumsily gripping his golden sword he took in the surroundings of a dirty wet shack with dirty wet blankets. That was the first thing he'd noticed, the second that he was now blue. His skin pigment, body hair, and even unmentionable areas, all blue. Not only that, but peering into a pool at his feet, his eyes were now vacant of pupils, and a nice golden shade. Walking out of the shack in only his pair of slacks, he was suddenly met with a young asian girl carrying towels. She shrieked at first, then bowed shuffling away, rambling in foreign dialect. Trying to calm her, she suddenly ran off into a weave of bamboo tents, speaking again and again of the word "Oni". Bewildered the Vagrant tried to find a trail leaving the bamboo camp he now found himself in, instead though walking right into the training clearing. Two dozen middle aged Japanese men, all trying to swing their Katana like experts greeted him by with first a face of shock, then bowed humbly as if before their new master. The eldest of the japanese men, a gray old wrinkled trainer of the men walked to Vagrant, sword in hand, and took a swing at him. Vagrant swung back, almost instinctively. "Guuuud" the old man said, speaking in broken English with a severe Japanese accent. He then lowered his blade as did Vagrant, and explained they were in the last remaining true training grounds for hand to hand sword combat, deeply hidden within a forest in Japan's remote region. The old man explained himself as being trained by old masters himself, and his colleagues reformed Samurai searching for the true soul of the sword, holding onto the glorious past of Japan. Having found Vagrant's sleeping body in the hills near a recent small victory for their side, apparently the Ronin mistook the blue well muscled warrior as a deity of battle, an Oni who would bless their combat skills one hundred fold. Asking him for his name, the blue man replied "Vagrant." That was the first time he used that as his name, and who he was at one time was now finally at rest.

He trained there with the men for years, and fought small skirmishes and striking fear into many enemy samurai. He fought for two reasons, one as thanks for shelter and training, and secondly he found their pride as warriors a semblance to the patriotism he once held so dear, and thus identified with them. Stories of an actual Oni working with the Ronin grew, as did their popularity, that is until they were finally crushed in one bloody assault ordered by the Emperor himself. Vagrant was eventually struck down after leaping headlong into a battalion of fully equipped soldiers by himself. Rising from death again, now for the 17th time, Vagrant looked on the battlefield of his fallen allies and enemies. Angry beyond compare at losing what he had come to consider family, the next three nights were a mystery to the Emperor as endless reports of a great dragon sundering camp after came in, and then suddenly stopped just as they were rallying more troops. Vagrant had left Japan, an angry spirit of vengeance seeking to get away from the rest of humanity until the end of time perhaps. Boarding a boat under cloak with sword and shealth in hand, he headed to nowhere in the winter of 1845, and would bum around the world and back again until finally finding a lead to his fuzzy blue origins in 1905.

A long history, Runes and a return to port

Finding an outback shaman in the deepest heart of Africa was not easy, especially when everyone sees you as a demon. In fact it took him 7 years to do so, starting in 1898 and ending in June of 1905. The Witchdoctor welcomed Vagrant as he entered the village from out of nowhere, though surprised at his arrival. Explaining using a variety of local languages to piece together the village dialect, Vagrant asked for aid in his search for why he's alive, and more so why he's blue. At first the villagers tried to kill him out of paranoia, but seeing his capacity to fight, and even more to not die, they revered him as a supernatural being, and welcomed him as a visiting deity of sorts. It took Vagrant and the doctor 5 months of working together, all the while he helped the village fight off rival tribes and grow its own land. One early morning as the sun rose just off the east, the doctor called Vagrant into his hut, and had him lay on a pile of large leaves. Taking a salve mixture of local plants, herbs, and some unknown ingredients the doctor painted Vagrants body with an intricate set of runes and shapes, all apparently to work in tandem to bring Vagrant a higher state of self awareness. However the doctor didn't count on his patient quickly falling asleep, something that he had not done for decades,

He woke up in the middle of the village, not knowing why since he didn't remember falling asleep. As he sat up the runes were now dry, as was the blood all over him. Looking around himself everyone was dead. Every child, every woman, every man, not just dead, but brutally murdered in ways Jack the Ripper would take notes on. Finding his Katana at his side as usual, the first place Vagrant went was to the hut of the witchdoctor, and though he'd lived for so many years now, what he saw caused him to vomit. Fleeing from the hut then he ran for miles, lost in his own thoughts so much that he didn't realize he had leaped the cliff face, and screamed as he fell hundreds of meters and smashed into the water below, the blood on his body and blade disbursing. He woke up four miles down the river, body still tattooed with runes, and sick to the stomach.

Spoilers end here.

One-hundred years later...

A cruise ship docks off San Pedro, California, and from it untold numbers disburse. One of which is slightly different though, because unlike the other vacationers, he's not garbed in Hawaiian shorts or carrying any luggage, just an item in a canvas sheath. Walking down the harbor to a small comic shop he asks for a few directions out of town, local weather, and if there are any capes in the town. Getting the information he needed, the man walked out the shop tipping his ballcap. "Hey, where you goin anyway?" The shop clerk asked as the man opened the door to leave, "Paragon city." was the response.


He's a member of the Midnight Squad at the moment. Actually was indoctrinated the moment he walked in the door to meet his long time pen pal Montague Castanella. Vagrant has contributed many magical artifacts he's found in his long journeys to the Midnight squad since its founding. He lurks Paragon looking for those who could give him leads to his scientific and magical origins. Other than talking to a few that look similar to him and could provide leads, demons and such, he stays a loner hunting by rooftops.

Now a member of the Reciprocators, Vagrant hopes to use his newfound allies to further his search for his unknown origins. Still new to the company of strangers, he welcomes his heroic group with well tempered manners.

Fun Facts

Vagrant is single, and though he prefers it that way, he'll get frisky from time to time. Even immortals need company. His sword does have a life of its own he doesn't know about, but more so than that, its tied to him far beyond picking it off a dead body. Alot of Vagrant's story is still unexposed, like how he's still alive after so long, seeing as he's not a mutant, why he's blue, and why he killed that village way back when. Wanna know why you'll just have to engage him in rp.

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