Dee Bee
Name Dee Bee
AKA DB, Dead Bunny, Sally Howling Coyote
Nationality NAN
Metatype Elf
Archetype Shaman
Birthdate December 19th
~Themesong Bruce Springsteen - The Ghost of Tom Joad
rating: 0+x

"So because everyone else is being bad, that's an excuse to be worse? No wonder the world is messed up."


Standing at just over five foot tall, it is the hooded sweater that Dee Bee wears which gets most of the attention. Thick, black and woolen, the hood is pulled up tight over her head, with a pair of long rabbitlike ears stitched into the hood, with bright pink inner ears. The garish clash of colors matched at her sleeves and at the hem of the very long sweater.

The woman is, beneath the sweater, a young native american elf, with a soft little nose, and tall, sharply pointed ears. Sparkling, intense dark brown eyes look out from within the shadows of the hood. The young woman has a slightly sallow look to her; without much muscle tone or definition to her. Tall brown suede boots are tugged up to just underneath her knees, leaving just her thighs bare.

Distinguishing Features

Wears a lot of rabbit-themed clothing.

Mannerisms and Habits

Likes to drink - never seems to get drunk.
Often wearing a grumpy expression.




She's a shaman. She casts the spells what make the people fall down, or get back up.
She's a shaman. She also calls upon spirits - not water spirits though. Screw those things.
She's a medic, she can patch you up.
She's pretty sneaky.

The Unofficial Spirit Scale

This is not in any way official, but I threw together a rating guide for my use in plots and similar, since the rating guide isn't terribly useful for spirits. (Experimental spirits? I THINK NOT!)

Rating Spirit Elemental Characteristics
1-2 Sprites Mephits Between .5-2 feet, small and without great intelligence, these spirits have little notion of their own individuality and it is very rare for them to display more personality than a dog or cat. They are cute, cuddly, and rarely very dangerous - even to mundanes, they are more nuisance than menace.
3-4 Lesser Spirits Lesser Elementals Ranging from 2-4 feet, these creatures are about as smart as the average metahuman and are usually fully aware of themselves. They have hopes, dreams and aspirations of their own - they may even have names (although True Names are not a given). They'll resent being abused, even if they can rarely find a way to get back at the mage abusing them.
5-6 Spirits Elementals These spirits are often as smart as the magicians who conjure and bind them. They may not be able to resist their summoners, but they are perfectly capable of interpreting their orders in the least favorable way possible if they dislike the magician (or the most favorable, if respect is paid). These are the Force of summoned creature most often called to service by professionals, and they have some control over their form - although they rarely top 6-7 foot they are more flexible than lesser summoned beings.
7-8 Greater Spirits Greater Elementals Creatures who have likely existed since the last Awakening. Spirits at this level know almost everything about their domain; Elementals know more about the metaplanes and the nature of magic than most mages will ever dream of. These beings demand respect, and are used to obtaining it. Their forms are often more elaborate and personalized than lower force creatures. They have True Names, and are capable of holding a grudge - or remembering those who do them a good service.
9-10 True Spirits Refined Elementals At this level, the creatures being summoned represent some greater fundamental truth about their calling. City Spirits reflect the birth of the city and echo the great events of its past, Fire Elementals may flicker and burn with strange hues as they demonstrate that flame is capable of far more than merely consuming wood, but consumes all it desires. These beings do not often walk the physical plane, and are likely to be curious about the one who summoned them as much as what they are being brought to this world to do. They may resent being taken from their planes… or they may appreciate the opportunity to explore something new.
11-12 Legendary Spirits Platonic Elementals These are beings truly beyond the ken of mortals. Brethren to Immortal Elves and Dragons, they are the walking aspects of the magical world given form through mana and will. Most are thousands of years old, and remember the before times, in the long-long ago, when they were called with ecstatic dance or virgin sacrifice. The knowledge and will of these ancient beings is great indeed, but there is almost always a greater price to be paid than that represented in rolls. Certainly, if one succeeds in gaining the attention of vast and alien consciousnesses, they will entertain the request placed before them. But they are smarter than you, older than you, and they will not cease granting you attention simply because the paltry task you lay before them has been completed…

The Legend of Chibiabos

An explanation of her faith by the shaman Dee Bee.

In the early days, Chibiabos (whose name literally means 'ghost rabbit') was the playful kid brother to Chakekenpok and Wabasso. But the Gods are no more immune to tragedy than mortals. Chibiabos was prone to acts of great folly, and he went out across a great frozen lake.

The Manitou of the lake were disturbed by his passage and took offence to his trespass. They broke the ice beneath his feet, and Chibiabos was plunged into the icy depths. He tried to find his way to the surface again, but the spirits confused him and turned him around and melted the ice beneath his fingertips. Eventually, Chibiabos could swim no longer, and he died.

So great was the brother's grief at the death of their fellow that they journeyed to the land of the dead, and for six days they made war against the denizens of that place. Their war was so great and so complete that it flooded the world above and caused great upheaval in the land of the living and the land of the dead… but no amount of violence could bring Chibiabos back to the surface. The depth of their sorrow moved the spirits greatly, and so an accord was struck. They offered to make Chibiabos the ruler of the underworld, and as this was an honorable position, the brothers accepted.

Chibiabos has since found his place. In life he was impetuous and rash; in death, he has proven a wise and generous ruler of the dead, helping bring peace and calm to people in their greatest hour of passing.

So what can we learn from this story?

We can learn from the example of Chakekenpok and Wabasso; that rage against the natural order will achieve nothing but pain, and that violence will not fix the world's problems.
We can learn from the example of the dead; that responding to violence with a calm word can foster a greater whole for all parties.
We can learn from Chibiabos, that it is best not to rush in where danger lurks beneath one's feet.
But mostly we can learn the most important lesson:
Spirits of the Water are not to be trusted.


They call me Dead Bunny, and that's a fair name. Unimaginative, but fair.

I was born Sally Howling Coyote, in honor of Daniel Howling Coyote. I was - am - part of the Chippewa tribe. My mother was a wise woman, and my father was a soldier. I remember being faintly aware of the fact that I was an elf and most others were not - but the Algonkian-Manitou Council were very open. Almost as many of us were metahumans as were not, and that meant that my childhood was relatively cosmopolitan. As far as I was concerned, it would have been very odd to judge anyone based on their race; we were all Chippewa, or at least American Indian. It were the other nations which had proven themselves untrustworthy, not my cousins who were lumpen or short.

But you aren't interested in the calm and gentle portion of my upbringing. You are interested in why I have the nickname Dead Bunny.

When I was sixteen years old, my father - whose soldiering had always been there at the back of my mind, but rarely seemed like it might actually be dangerous - died. He died in a terrible an grotesque way, thanks to the chemical weapons that were deployed by the Tsimshian. We couldn't even see his body, and he couldn't be returned to the earth as was our rite. Normally, the coffin is left open to allow the soul to escape, but the fear of corruption meant that his coffin was sealed hermetically and buried underneath concrete.

I was tormented by the idea of his death. The pain that he must have suffered, I saw in my nightmares. I feared that his soul would not move on, that he would remain trapped in the dark casket, imprisoned in a body that had been corrupted in the most painful and terrible way imaginable. And then… one night… those dreams stopped.

I remember the dream very clearly. The moon was full in the sky, and our lands were swaddled in darkness. On one side, there was my father, and on the other, there was Chibiabos. He appeared to me as a young man with long, lapine ears, smoking brightly colored tobacco. As we spoke, that tobacco swirled into strange shapes above, showing different lands.

"You know me, Sally, my girl." He said, "And you know I watch you - I watch everyone."

"Then why didn't you help him?" I asked, waving to my father. The man seemed pale and drawn, as though he was barely there at all. He seemed so tired, he couldn't even speak. So thin, it was as though he had starved to death.

"Because he was in the land of the living. I rule the land of the dead. Now, I can help him."

I hated to see my father as he looked to me then, pitiful and weak, broken by the cruelty

"Then do it! Help him!"

Chibiabos never asked for anything in return; just the fact that I had asked him for help was enough for him, I think. He stood, and took my father by the hand, and together they walked away. When I woke up, the world was a very different place.

Seeing the spirits and feeling their flow through the world, I no longer had such terrible hatred in my heart. My father was dead, but I knew he had passed on to a better place. My mother helped me understand the strange dreams and visions which came to me after that, and before long, I was helping my people too. But it could not last forever.

Chibiabos is the king of the underworld, who shepherds our souls to the land of the dead and rules it as a good and kind king. In the world, my calling was to try and keep his people from that place for as long as possible. I healed the injured, I cured the sick, I even provided nutrition when needed… but the people still feared me. When I failed, when people died anyway, I was blamed. They feared me. My tribe had always been my home, but now I couldn't look them in the eye without feeling their suspicion and their dread.

Being their crutch and taking their scorn had worn me down, and I barely recognized myself in the mirror any longer. I needed to get away and find a new place to make my own. Like many young people, I traveled to the city hoping to find my independence, leave my past behind, and reinvent myself. In many ways, I succeeded in doing just that.

Denver is an overwhelming place when you don't know anybody, but magic is always in high demand. I knew a talismonger who I let gather herbs on our tribal lands, and she helped hook me up with Vinnie, who in turn… offered me more money than I had ever dreamed of to help back up some people doing some, less than savory activities.

I can't say that I fully appreciate the life I've fallen into, or really know where to begin, but Chibiabos teaches us to cherish what we have; to live in the moment and be forever mindful of the fact that it will end far too soon. So I will seize this opportunity, to forge a new life separate from the one I have left behind.

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