The Seacrette Seven: The Story of Victoria Seacrette

"Uh...it's not what it looks like?" stuttered Duggan, his eyes meeting the unblinking, laser-burning stare of Victoria.

"I think it's exactly what it looks like," she hissed through gritted teeth.  "Exactly!"

It happened to be the scene into which Victoria had stumbled. Warm sunshine glowed through a thousand lazy motes of dust, oblivious to the activity beneath them: Duggan above, Heidi below.

Trousers down, dress up.

Panting.

Bits of hay gently floated to the floor, the frenetic activity that had so disturbed them now stopped.

Heidi, her face aghast, clapped her mouth shut and writhed out from beneath the scrawny Duggan to find her feet next to the rapidly shrinking boy.

"Victoria!" she gulped.

Victoria's eyes narrowed. "Heidi."

Duggan stepped forward, his finger raised. "Now don't you go starting anything, Vicky, there's a very reasonable explanation for all of this."

Victoria placed her hand on his naked chest, stopping him at arm's length. "Don't you Vicky me, you godless son of a bitch!" she rasped. "I won't be starting anything, but I will be ending something."

Heidi drew herself up to her full height and drew in her breath. The act of doing so caused her dress to fall back into place. "Don't you go threatening-"

In their frantic embarrassment, what neither Duggan nor Heidi had seen was the quiet clenching of Victoria's fists, the left a tight ball, the right tightly gripping the handle of the wooden pail she was carrying when she had entered the barn moments earlier.

Victoria instinctively led with the left. Heidi's nose was no match for the solid worker's hand that struck it. A brief surge of satisfaction registered with Victoria as she watched Heidi's eyes widen just before the impact. The wet crunch left little to any party's imagination as to the resulting state of Heidi's bridge.

Victoria's right hand followed through, swinging the bucket in a tight, vicious swipe that, now that Heidi had fallen to her knees, connected satisfyingly with the side of her head, the empty bucket disintegrating even as it's hollow thump echoed through the barn.

Duggan, too stunned by what he was seeing, tried to raise his arms and left leg in defence, hoping to ball up into a fortress of limbs. He never made it.

Victoria's now unencumbered right fist continued directly into Duggan's left kidney. Duggan did ball-up, but not in the fashion he intended. As he slumped to the ground, his chin, floor bound, met Victoria's left fist, ceiling bound.

The resulting gun-shot like crack both indicated the breaking of Duggan's jawbone and the conclusion of Victoria's attack.

Panting, she stared at the two figures, Duggan twisted over, unconscious, and Heidi sitting flat on the floor, blood streaming through her fingers as she clutched at her nose. The bleeding girl mewled in confusion and agony.

Victoria shook her head. Heidi had been a beautiful girl. Quiet how a snivelling wretch like Duggan had managed to attract her attention was quite beyond Victoria's imagination. Still, the bitch deserved to have her face re-arranged for messing around with other people's husbands, as far as Victoria was concerned.

She dropped the handle of the pail and turned to leave.

"Waid, pleade."

She turned to look at the pitiful form of Heidi on all-fours, trying to get to her feet. A brief pang of pity shot through her before the anger returned. Rage was a good teacher - both Heidi and Victoria experienced a first as Victoria learned the round-house kick.

Victoria closed the door of the barn, leaving both witless idiots unconscious on the floor. Burning the barn was a step too far, she realised - there was a difference in the sympathy one could expect between the jilted wife and the jealous murderer.

She had no real idea what to do now that she had beaten the two senseless. Doubt gnawed at her as she strode home - was she really planning on leaving? Where would she go? What about her marriage vows? She looked up at the forbidding darkness of the forest that ran alongside the road. Was that really a place for a woman?

She wandered through the village gates, turning just before the bridge. She sighed as she looked at the little tannery she and Duggan shared. Had the marriage really been that bad? This was the first time anything like this had happened, she thought.

Or was it? How would she know? Just because she didn't know, doesn't mean it wasn't happening, right?

Fire surged through her veins again as she recalled his puffing cheeks and her yelping cries of satisfaction. She looked around, daring any other woman to appear - no doubt the bastard would have had his way with half the bloody village - could she really kick all of their arses? Would she?

She slammed the door behind her and thumped up the stairs, her mind made up.

Except -

No. Sort it out, Victoria. You're leaving him, and that's that!

She could return home, of course. To her parents. Mum had always had her doubts about Duggan anyway and Dad would just be happy - he always was. And it's not as if they didn't have the space - Daddy had done quite well despite his lack of education. He just knew how to do business, is all.

But to return home would be to return a failure. To face the delighted stares of her younger sisters, both beautiful, both married to responsible, loving husbands. Could she face such condescension?

Victoria realised that she had stuffed the few items of clothing she had into a leather pack he had left lying on the bed. What on earth was she doing?

Think, Victoria. Just think. Go downstairs and sit down. Sit on your hands. Just until you have an idea.

She nodded to herself. Good idea.

***

Twenty minutes of sitting had done much to clear her head. In that time, she had both wept and sworn, kicking at his work bench and breaking her favourite tea pot.

The answer that kept coming to her was the convent up at Ratchitt. That's what happened to unfaithful wives and unwed daughters whose integrity had been compromised, wasn't it? Why shouldn't she do the same? They were bound to accept her. She was hard working and practical.

But Ratchitt was over a week's journey away. How would she get there? More importantly, how would she get there safely?

It was another frustrated kick that revealed an answer. The heavy work-bench, laden as it was with tools and skins, skidded across the rough floor, before shrugging off the load of skins upon it. There gleamed a beautiful axe, half a holster wrapping its head. Presumably the holster was here for a repair?

She reached over.

No, Victoria, it's not yours. 

Her hand stopped.

Neither is he, anymore. 

She touched the handle.

That doesn't matter. Taking this would be theft. 

The wood was sensationally smooth. She ran a finger up to the blade.

So? He's responsible for it! Besides there's no point going into the forest just to get eaten by wolves - you're hardly showing him then, are you?

Her hand clutched the handle. Suddenly she was holding it in both hands, testing its weight. She realised she was grinning.

Go on. Take a swing...

***

Victoria ran through the forest, desperate to put as much distance between her and the village as possible. The lantern jangled about in her hand, its light dancing crazily over the road and the surrounding trees.

You stupid, stupid girl! she thought. You'll never be able to return, now!

"Just take a swing!" she fumed, muttering to herself. "You couldn't have bloody done it outside, could you have!"

She didn't even register the presence of a fork in the road as she jogged along - she chose left.

"I mean, its not as if it didn't look sharp, is it, you daft cow! What did you think was going to happen?

"Besides, who builds these houses anyway! I mean, what a stupid place to put a wooden pillar! And to have the whole weight of the upper floor rest on it? I wouldn't build a house that way!"

She felt sick as she remembered the house collapsing behind her. She'd had just enough time to register what she'd done, stuff a few essentials into her pack and dive out the door before the whole thing came down.

She slowed to a walk. She had been jogging for some time now and the weight o both her physical and emotional baggage was telling. "You can't keep this up, dear," she announced to herself.

But you can't go back either. Nothing says 'divorce' quite like breaking your husband's jaw and knocking his house down, does it?

She stopped and sighed.

"Better find a place to rest."

***

Name: Victoria Seacrette
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Height: 6'2"
Night Vision: None
Alignment: Neutral
Psychology: No effects
Languages: Old Worlder

Career Class: Ranger
Career: Herdswoman

Name: Victoria Seacrette	M	WS	BS	S	T	W	I	A	Dex	Ld	Int	Cl	WP	Fel
Starter Profile	5	28	33	2	4	5	27	1	23	34	34	23	34	29
Advance Scheme			+20	+1		+2	+10
Total Advance				+1
Skill Benefits					+1
Current Profile	5	28	33	3	5	5	27	1	23	34	34	23	34	29
WFB Profile	5	2	3	3	5	1	2	1	-	7	7	5	8	-

Fate Points: 3

Money: 8 GC

Skills:
Dance
Luck
Astronomy
Animal Care
Charm Animal
Musician - Wind Instruments
Specialist Weapon - Sling
Animal Training
Herb Lore
Very Resilient


Trappings:
Hat
Cloak
Leather Boots
3 Blankets
Cutlery
Tinderbox
Small Cooking Pot
Flask of Water
Axe
Knife
Sword
Pan Pipes
Sling (and ammunition)
Staff

***

Of course, the line we're the most interested in will be the WFB profile, but I thought I'd include everything I've generated just to round the character off. My plans essentially are to give her an experience bump for each outing, and then use events in each outing (be that outing a small skirmish or a full battle) to determine further experience.

Over the Christmans break, I'm hoping to start her story as game, pretty much from where we've left her today...