One of the first pirates in Post-war Acadiana, This Ghoul started his career as a fisherman before the war. Since then he has a variety of occupations, few of them legal.

Date of birth:2051
Blood type:A+


Jeer was born Alex Haisley to a clan of swampfolk several miles outside The Big Easy. His family had lived off of the bayou since their ancestors were driven from Arcadia by the British. Alex was taught this lifestyle, and he dropped out of school at 13 to learn it. When he came of manhood, he moved out his parents into a similar house further in the swamp. He continued the swamp trade himself, fishing deep in the bayous with his airboat.

The War

Alex was totally unsuspecting of what would happen on October 23, 2077; he was returning home from night-fishing when the bombs hit New Orleans. The waves caused by the force of the bombs flipped his boat and carried him back into the bayou. He awoke later and managed to flip his boat before again setting off for home. He arrived to see Nawlins burning in the distance, and a trio of men near his house. He grabbed his rifle and approached them. They turned out to be a trio of young men stealing fish from one of his lines.

They ran when he told them to stop, prompting him to chase them. They ran deep into the bayou before the stopped, and Alex found them. He shot all three of them dead in anger, leaving their bodies as he took his fish back. He locked himself in his house for the next few days as droves of people left the city for the area around it. Alex Stopped noticing after a few days, however, growing very sick and losing his hair. When he didn't die and started to recover, he managed to walk to the kitchen and find the water not work.


He forgot about that almost instantly, however, because the water level was three feet higher than it had been a few days ago. He could see that his boat was still tethered to the house, and that the neighboring houses were there as well. When he passed by a mirror, he recoiled in horror at the sight that greeted him. Most of his skin and hair was gone leaving his tendons and muscles open to the air. When he touched his face, his fingers had some tissue on them. He put on his long coat and hat, and untying his boat, went to check on his neighbors.

None were still alive, including his family, so he took what he could and returned to his house. He sat there for the next few days, coming to terms with his condition, not going outside. He was interrupted one night by the sound of banging at his nearest neighbors. Through the window, he saw a handful of men beating at the door, which he had locked when he looted it. He grabbed his rifle and returned to the window, but just watched their lights bob as they looked through the house. He then watched them row a small boat over to his house. He crept to the kitchen and listened for them to enter.

After a minute or two, he heard the door open, and several pairs of feet walk into his house. He raised his rifle to the doorway as he waited for someone to enter, getting his wish seconds later. He fired two shots when he saw a light and then a body pass into the room; the first round hit the paneling slightly above the man's arm, the second struck him under his left shoulder, killing him almost instantly. He ran into the living room and found the other two too shocked to move. He shot both of them dead and dragged the trio into the bathroom, where he stripped them down before tossing them in the tub.

Removing all valuables from their persons, he then carried them out to his boat, loaded them up and set out for the bayous. When he estimated he was at his favorite gator spot, he dumped the bodies in and returned to his house. He would live in solitude for the next few decades, living off of the swamp as he had always done. He was forced to go into The Big Easy in early 2103 to buy more ammunition, however, and suffered based on his 'condition'.

After being beat-up by one particular group of proto-Rafters, he decided to even the score with these "pretty boys". He waited, adrift in the waters out of port until he saw them board a craft and set out to water. He followed them east of the city until the lights faded away before he overtook them. Getting even with their raft, he opened fire on the small cabin, killing the occupants while the coxswain jumped aboard his airboat and charged at him. Smacking him with the barrel of his rifle, Alex grabbed a paddle and began to beat the man's skull in. When he was dead, he pulled his boat back against the raft, tied the two together and looted it.

After he was done, he dropped the coxswain on the raft and returned to his home, checking behind him as he went. He stayed in the bayous for the next decade after this, leaving only because of poor fish spawning. Returning to New Orleans, he found the people slightly more accepting and even found work as a raft hand. The captain, a 'reformed' pirate called Hatrack, hired a few hands every few weeks to scavenge enough booze money for the rest of the month.


The other hands were a pair of racist humans, recently of Baton Rouge, who never missed an opportunity to brag about their toughness. Alex stayed cold to their taunts, maintaining his focus on scavenging from whatever wreck they found. They stayed out for two weeks, most of which passed without any serious incident. When they were a day out from port, however, they encountered a raft that overtook and pulled abroad of them.

The captain and two of his crewmen jumped aboard, all brandishing clubs. Alex crept to the back of the craft near his rifle while the Rafter captain denounced his counterpart as a pirate and a scoundrel. He then demanded that he and the crew turn themselves over to be tried for piracy. When Hatrack refused, Alex opened fire, killing the captain and wounding one of the boarders. His crew-mates pulled their pistols shortly after, and shot down the other Rafters.

They took everything of value before setting it ablaze and drifting. They then retreated into the swamps. They sailed until they reached safe harbor at Barataria Bay. They split the loot in a grimy tavern; the humans spent most of theirs on drink. Alex saved his and made preparations to return home.

Three hours before he was to leave, however, a captain approached him. He introduced himself as Adams and said he was looking for a crew hand. He had heard the story from the tavern and told Alex his crew didn't mind a Ghoul. Adams was unphased by the Ghoul's initial rejection, and went on, telling him that it wasn't some piss-poor scavenge outfit, but pirates. If they survived, they would return to the bay every night that they could, and every man got his share.

Alex agreed and returned with his new captain to meet the rest of the crew. Entering an unremarkable shack, he saw three other men and a woman inside. Introduced by position; Hand bumps, Hand Flecks, Coxswain Murphy, and Mate Squaw. They had been serving anywhere from three months to seven years with the captain and had like the Ghoul's predecessor fairly well. Nevertheless, they gave Alex a good welcome to the crew, treating him as just another sailor.

They set out the next morning, looking for merchants traveling The Gulf Belt loaded with goods. They took two rafter craft that day, sending the crews to the bottom. Their return to port that night was followed by a hearty carousing.When they had awoken the next afternoon, they met before the Goya clan's Park. Adams always paid a percentage of his loot to the clan for their protection, a precious thing to have in the chaotic haven of the bay. After this, they would find breakfast before setting out again.

Alex would work on the deck for the next seven years, earning his sobriquet from the decay of his facial muscles. His sardonic personality also lent it self to the name, becoming what he would call himself by 2130. That year they finally had a run-in with justice, being chased and cornered by several rafts. They were chased into a thicket of Cyprus trees, the roots blocking their way out. The pirates prepared to fight and turned to meet their pursuers. Jeer and Murphy opened fire while the others waited to board. When the rafters got into range, the pirates boarded, and a savage melee ensued.

The bloodbath only grew as the other rafts caught up and in the end, only the Ghoul was standing. Severely wounded, he crawled over to Adam's body and took the stimpak he kept in his pocket. Letting the wonder drug work it's way through his system; he reloaded his rifle, wary of any others still waiting. He was alone, however, and when he felt strong enough, he took the most valuable items he could and loaded them onto one of the spare rafts. He floated back to the Bay where he sold off his findings before returning to New Orleans, to find his boat long vanished. Shrugging it off, he turned his raft around returned to his home in the Bayous.

After this, he stuck mainly to fishing, but would occasionally put a crew together if it is a hard year. After 2282 he has decided to take it easy and stay home, having managed to save up enough food. He wouldn't leave until 2284 when Swampers attacked his cabin, forcing him to New Orleans. Since then he has worked out of the city, hunting swampers for revenge.


Taller than the average ghoul, Jeer cuts a distinct figure across a room; for this reason he wears an old and well-patched trench coat and hat. His gaunt figure combined with this makes him look like a scarecrow until he starts moving. He Has one Green eye, which he tries to display prominently in battle.


Jeer is an opportunist, always looking out for himself. He stays in the swamps as that is the best way he knows how to live, but will join a pirate crew without thought when times are hard. He doesn't hesitate to kill, seeing people the same as any other creature. He will show some loyalty to those who help him, but his innate sense of survival limits how far he will go.