Lais Jivvel
Kin of the Bagheera
Jhanaki of the Banjira
Caliban of the Silver Chain
Description
~Lais defies Western standards of Gypsy heritage. He lacks the dusky skin-tone, heavy brows, excessive furs and woolens, and rotten teeth. He doesn’t look like a circus freak or a drifter bum. Stone-washed Levi’s and a deep blue shirt of some sort, typically cotton or silk, typically clothe his well-toned body. Often, a pair of dark sunglasses disguise his mahogany-brown eyes. A gold hoop adorns his left earlobe and dark hair parted in the center curtains both sides of his head with a roguish, free-swept style. The light shade to his skin suggests some sort of exotic origin -- India, for example. Still, there’s something about his confident appearance and indescribable effect of authority and secret wisdom that changes everything. His pleasant smile seems like a self-satisfied smirk. His casually-stylish attire becomes roguish. His middle-income car must be stolen. Who knows what the problem is? But Lais keeps a professional distance in all his relationships and acquaintances.~
OOC: Appearance 3; Style 1; Blood Purity 3; Pure Breed 2 (Bagheera)
"Now you see it, now you don't."
History
Youth
The Great Indian Desert northwest of Delhi spawned a terrible sandstorm in the late spring of 1973. Ensconced in tents that seemed too flimsy to withstand the whirling elemental frenzy, a kumpania of Banjira “Gypsies” bedded down for a long day. Javas and Beti Jivvel lay among the Indian Romani there and Beti was gripped by pregnancy labors. She was certainly due and the midwife was forced to brave a few moments of the skin-lashing sandstorm to get to their tent. With her help, Beti gave birth to a healthy boy and Javas was filled with joy at the sight of their first child and son. Naming him Lais for “lion” in part due to the family’s relation to the mighty Catfolk of India and in part for the baby’s healthy strength, Javas and Beti rejoiced and a celebration was held when the storm let up.
And so Lais was raised in the Kukura kumpania of the Banjira family. The Kukura was a traditional group, and Lais learned all of the laws of the Romani. He learned of the right ways and the wrong ways. He learned who to trust and who not to trust. And like the Children of Sarrath, the Banjira were willing to place their trust in a group of supernaturals who may not necessarily be related to them -- the Bagheera werepanthers. Over a thousand years ago, a roguish hero of the Banjara family saved the life of a young leopardess and they became quite a pair. Many stories were written about their adventures and they bore offspring that became a family apart from the Banjara. Although the Banjira still participated in similar habits -- such as traveling the seedy Indian underworld and engaging in illicit activities -- they were also now sturdy supporters of the wise and knowledgeable “Brahmin-Kings”, as the Banjira referred to the Bagheera.
And of course, Lais became acquainted with the illegal means of income by which his family (and many nomadic Romani) lived. Touched by the marut, Lais promised to become a great and productive member of the family. While others his age trained hard to master the martial arts and the rifle, and others became masters of farming and animal husbandry, and others still delved into the secret arts of mediumship and drabarne, Lais grew into a successful criminal that made his mom and dad proud. Now granted, the Banjira like many Romani do not consider theft and swindle evil so long as the right people are stolen from. Fat, rich slobs don’t need to get fatter or slobbier, and murderers only need enough money to buy their own coffins.
By his mid-teens, Lais was an accomplished pick-pocket and goods-runner. Through the sewers and slums of Delhi he ran with a few of his Kukura brothers. Those days he remembered fondly -- before he learned of the Hidden World. Ignorance is bliss, they say. Lais recalled playful brawls and competitive gambles over who would win the heart of which girl. Lais often got his butt kicked except when he pulled off one of his “dirty tricks” (usually involved a groin kick), but he was always a lady’s man. He charmed many a young woman from other kumpania when many Banjira gathered for feasts and celebrations.
Rally
But one of those feasts became a very serious affair for young Lais. One Vadin Vind was paying a visit to the gathered kumpaniyi. Lais was intrigued and admittedly intimidated by the middle-aged Indian gentleman possessed of an unfathomable and arcane air. His grandmother, who had read him stories of the supernatural and the panther-men especially, came up behind and whispered that it was time for him to meet the other half of his blood. Lais, with several other youths his age, were gathered into a circle by a campfire. Their elders sat back, observing, while Vadin walked into the firelight and spoke onto the group:
“Your blood is truly blessed of two mystical people. The Banjira and the Bagheera. Your elders have already given their blessings. I now extend the blessing of Saraam upon you, for you are all our Kin, too. May Selene and the great Mother of All guide your feet and open your eyes.”
And a great cheer rose up among the whole family there. Lais was overcome with a warm feeling inside, as if he found something he had lost long ago. Yes, Vadin’s words rang true to him. He was Romani and more and would have to live up to that high standard. Lais attacked his occupation with greater zeal than ever. Not only did he steal into the marketplace to fleece the wealthy, but he listened close now. He listened to stories and rumors and spied in windows. So when he returned to his family through their underground roads and sewer paths, he passed on the secrets.
When Lais grew a few years older, he was initiated into the man’s business of the kumpania. He traveled the vast sewers and waterways with armed men of his family, shipping smuggled goods from one end of the city to the other -- or out of the city. It sometimes included food to be given freely to the poor and Untouchables, but it was a business. Lais heisted and smuggled more jewelry and money and drugs than he did food. This business sometimes grew messy when someone slipped up and the cops were on the chase, bringing hounds down into those ancient stone sewers.
One such event, the group was actually smuggling food. The cops were hot on their tails and they were racing to escape and lose the police in the labyrinthe tunnels. They ended up getting lost as well, and the cops were almost upon them. That’s when the murky waterways came alive with snarls and shrieks and giant rodents. Ratkin emerged and fell upon the police and only the kuyan, fierce and well-armed, kept the vicious shapeshifters from assaulting the smuggling ring as well. Lais was not so afraid even if he stood behind the warriors, and found himself not even half as terrified as the police were of the massive rat-men.
When the Ratkin were done with the police and their dogs, they surrounded the Romani. One hissed in halting human-tongue that they stank of cats. Another said they just stank of humans. And another said they stank of both. But the kuyan did not falter, and their Dance of Knives would have unleashed a terrible battle down in that muck that day. But Lais swallowed his nerves and spoke up. He explained how they were just the smugglers who always ran through those sewers and stole from the rich. The Ratkin were not moved and perhaps only due to the kuyan’s fearless and fierce stance, they did not rip the Gypsies to shreds. Still, had Lais not spoken it would have likely come to a mutual shredding. Instead, the Ratkin demanded a tithe and so the smugglers’ entire baggage of food was grudgingly given over. Oh well. At least they all had a great story to tell and brag about. Of course, Lais wasn’t so happy about it all and to this day has a special place in his heart for hating rats.
Big Bujo
Despite this encounter, Lais and the Kukara did not give up the dangerous life of smugglers and thieves in Delhi. Lais grew well-acquainted with the underbelly of the old city. He grew accustomed to dodging cops and worse. Due to his Blood, dark enemies were often attracted to him and his family in an attempt to menace them. He was forced to outrun, outplay, and out-think dakhat, wererats, and vampires. But he loved it. Lais’s pockets grew thick with successful bujo and the night-life beckoned him always. He gambled against friends and foes in games of dominos, cards, sticks, guns, you name it, he did it. And his luck held out every time, even through a game of Russian Roulette with a Ravnos vampire.
One of his greatest gambles, however, was a swindle scheme even his rambunctious friends called insane. In the heart of the oldest sections of Delhi, in the dirty clay slums, stood a Hindu shrine. It was once a favorite place for pilgrims to attend, but that practice had fallen to the wayside over the past few years. Now instead it was becoming a haven for the fanatical and it was whispered that dark services to Kali were being held there. Rumors and posh-kosh? Lais decided to find out and gaffle any swindlers for all they were worth. He attended a service with a bunch of poor persons -- mindless drones that they were. He witnessed the glazed look in their eyes as the priests promised glory and salvation with one hand and pinched the peasants’ purses with the other.
So after the service, Lais dressed himself up nicely and returned to meet with the priests. Putting on his most civil approach, he gained their attention with the flashing of a thick billfold and sharp American clothes. Money was the word, he told them. If you wanted a bigger and more beautiful temple to attract more faithful worshipers, you needed money and more than the chicken scratch they offered. And the best way to make good money was in the dog-fighting pits and he asked for only a small percentage. He assured the priests he knew which bull-dog was the fiercest and proved it by taking one priest to a match, betting a good amount of money on the winning dog -- and said dog, tearing the other to pieces. Although impressed, first, the priests told him, he would have to face the god of the temple in person to judge his soul and worthiness. Bravely, Lais agreed, hiding a smirk. So he was quite shocked to see a six-armed naked youth with wide, crazy eyes of endless, ravenous hunger glide from behind the curtains. Lais grit his teeth and pushed his scheme out of his mind, embracing his jhanaki talents well. The creature stared silently at him for a long, disturbing minute, then just nodded silently to the priests. He vanished back behind the curtains and Lais’s proposition was acceptable. When they weren’t looking, he made sure to wipe the sweat off his brow. They gave Lais a decent amount of cash to invest in the next dog-fight, adding many threats should he prove treacherous. But their “god’s” reassurance of his trustworthiness was enough to let him do his best.
For several weeks, Lais raked in hundreds of dollars worth for the temple and its god, keeping only about a hundred or so for himself as they agreed. But then one night, Lais bet far more than he or the temple had on the same dog that was had mild poison mysteriously sneaked into its water bowl. Had that dog won, the temple would have more than doubled its current earnings. Had it lost, it would have been stripped of all and more. And it lost, the prize dog torn to shreds. A worshiper keen on the gambling affairs of the temple fled to tell the priests the news but the gamblers’ “collection agency” was already en route -- with new members to the squad tonight. Lais stood among them as they barged into the temple, battering the priests aside. Lais smirked in the background as all the treasures that had been heaped onto the “god” were taken away and loaded up into a van. The “god” remained behind his curtain, just watching with hate and fear, knowing that to attack and slay these humans would only bring more. It was a defeat, he knew that much, but he knew who was responsible -- there was no mistaking it when he saw Lais standing behind the collectors with a smirk and a pocket thicker than usual. After all, Lais bet on the underdog (so to speak)!
When the group had finished its collection and moved to leave, the “god” sprung out with a hellish snarl and a fanged hiss. It lunged like black wind at a wide-eyed Lais, but the creature’s first blows were battered aside by a sudden pounce. A black panther leapt into the action. While the “collectors” fled, calling for Lais to come, the priests barred his escape. His Gypsy family was forced to flee then and there as the real gambler collecters would soon approach. The panther snarled and roared at the reeling creature, but outraged it struck back and proved to be even stronger. Powerful blows were rained on the panther while Lais could just watch in shock. The priests, too, were cowering -- most had fled. But finally, Lais could wait no more. He picked up the nearest object -- a small bronze idol that his brethren had left in their hurry - and hurled it into the creature. It struck a stunning blow on the creature’s beautiful head, and with a shout to the panther -- for Lais knew in his blood that she was kin -- he turned to flee through the door. A single brave priest received a kick between the legs for his effort and both Lais and the panther escaped the temple.
But the creature was in hot pursuit. Furious and lost in mindless, chaotic outrage, the creature blasted through the temple doors and gave chase to the pair. The panther slowed her pace to keep up with Lais, although a definite limp from a nasty bruise on her foreleg contributed to this. The two fled into the slums as dawn began to peek over the horizon but the creature followed still, its snarls frightening everyone in their homes. But after a few minutes, when the sun’s first rays were shed on an alley, Lais and the panther stopped to see the creature topple over onto the dirt road. It could not move. It was dying. The two hurried on and ducked into a dark, empty storage hall. The panther took her breed form and nursed her right arm as Lais introduced himself.
The Bagheera introduced herself next as Riya Jhangiani. Feeling that he owed her an explanation, he gave it to her with all the charm he possessed. Smiling, he expected a shrug and grin, or even a smile and kiss. Instead, he got slapped. Hey, he thought, that wasn’t supposed to happen. Riya was irritated -- days of reconnaissance on that Wan Kuei wasted by a common swindler. Although she had to admit that he was Kin, and cute, but “not too bright” she scowled. And he chuckled in agreement. That night he learned a valuable lesson: never return to gloat over a successful bujo.
America
The two parted ways in Delhi. Lais returned to his Kukura, who had decided to explore more of the world. The group traveled all over India, Indo-China, southern China, and Southeast Asia. The group pulled off many more “Gypsy swindles” throughout rural and urban communities alike. Evading police and angry mobs, the Kukura eventually wandered back to its homeland in Delhi. It was now well into the 21st century, and Lais wanted to see more of the world – preferably before it was paved over or nuked or both.
He said his farewells to family and friends, packed a few belongings, and head to the airport. Lo and behold, he ran into an old acquaintance – Riya, the Bagheera. Their meeting began with cool politeness, but once on the airplane (and after a few drinks), both were looser-tongued. In hushed tones, they spoke of one another’s feline heritage. They exchanged a few dirty rumors about people, places, and things back in Delhi. And they whispered about the future and the world ahead. Riya explained she was en route for the American Midwest. There was budding opportunity in Kansas City of all places. A hot new Little Asia district was on the rise and Riya had been charged with joining the local Beast-Court in order to determine its true nature and purpose. And Lais admitted he was curious himself, for there were few full-fledged hengeyokai holdings anywhere in India. He followed Riya to the foot of the Court of Bamboo Talons. Although uncertain of its nature, Lais agreed to be counted upon as Kin to the hengeyokai and therefore a member of this Court.
Significant Other
Lais acquainted Riya in early 2003. The pair started to see each other over the course of a few months. Lais' freer ways in matters of the law and right disturbed Riya as much as her academic interests often bored Lais. But the pair had more in common than kinship. They shared a love for secrets and style, truth and obligation. Lais and Riya eventually hit it off and the pair made love play an almost nightly pleasure. Lais has never felt more devoted to a single woman in his life. But the caliban gladly delivers all of his passions to this one woman, this one Bagheera, Riya Jhangiani. And she seems to be equally set for him. Perhaps that's because on February 20th, 2005, Riya gave birth to their daughter, Asoka. Lovely little Asoka carries the blood of her parents in her veins, and while "only" Kinfolk, she's another bright star of hope for their people's futures. As for Asoka's parents' future? Marriage may not be all that unseemly after all.
Riya
Weakness
Ism
Lais is not only related to one of the snobbiest Changing Breeds on the planet, he's Romani. The gifts and heritage of Gypsy blood run strong in his veins. Although gaje don't understand why they often dislike this silver-tongued rogue, part of the reason may very well be that Lais doesn't much like them.
Likelihood of Corruption
Average.
Lais is a hustler, swindler, thief, and overall rogue. But it doesn't mean he's not a nice guy. Still, even if he does rob from people who don't need that much money, delving into the "redistribution of material wealth" can dig up a lot of ugliness. Even with his Blood's special gifts and his Family's relation to the fierce Bagheera, he may bite off more than he can chew sometimes. And that bite may seek to do more than just chop his body up into little giblets or throw him in jail.
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