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43,502 | 1,193 | 195 | 469 | 141 | Ditch rested her gaze on Ecto. "It's a possibility for the future." She said. "I won't be giving out everyone's information. That's up to them if they want to share their contacts with you. For now, you'll reach the others through me if necessary, or by coming here." Ditch crossed her arms. "Give it time, Ecto. For now, go home. Get some rest. We're done here today."
Ditch was the last to leave the auditorium after it had cleared out. The emptiness of such a large space was daunting to her now. She left with a renewed feeling of hope, one that had slowly but surely been leaving her after all those years of fruitless effort.
We're coming for you, Umbra. She thought to herself as the doors closed behind her.
Chapter Two - END
Chapter Three - Blue Skeletons
Channel 7 - Millennium City News!
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, I'm Scotty Declan, and this is channel 7 news with a breaking first story! The famous hero Lava King has followed in the series of missing of powered individuals since the appearance of the villain Umbra. At first feared for being such a destructive force Lava King has slowly entered the hearts of everyone for the valiant job of keeping this city safer and cleaning away the criminal elements. In other news a large explosion which left no traces of a cause rocked Mermary lane not far from the orphanage, where thankfully the children were away on a field trip sponsored by the Shrine family at the time, afterwards during a police investigation of the scene millions of stolen dollars found in bags, stolen by the shady Wall Walker, were discovered in the headmasters office who is now under investigation. A shame that so much money was kept from improving the lives of the poor orphans however it was seized by the police in a follow up to an ongoing case of suspected corruption on the part of the headmaster who is now in custody. Now a short break for the weather with our wizard of meteorology Oscar Fontaine, what’s the forecast looking like Oscar?"
"Thanks Scotty. In the vein of more bad news, we unfortunately have a bad weather front moving into the city. The rain that was predicted to peter out overnight has stuck with us, leading to a dark and dreary day. Signs point to the rain breaking around dusk tonight though, with clear skies continuing into tomorrow. Back to you, Scotty."
"Things are looking up it seems both in the weather and in crime fighting it seems. Today the infamous Wall Walker, a thief who has been plaguing banks across the city has finally been caught all thanks to Captain Powerhouse, our glorious and heart filled strong man, who followed through on his promise to bring the thefts to an end. Lets go to our own ace reporter, Sarah Fortune, who is currently on the scene where the heroic bruiser is receiving public thanks from the mayor for his contribution outside the precinct holding Wall Walker."
“Thank you Scotty, for your superb work once again! I’m on site outside Millennium City’s Power Police Precinct where just a short time ago Captain Powerhouse succeeded in his nerve wracking threat to bring Wall Walker to justice. As you can see behind me on the steps of our city’s greatest Mayor Sentren has arrived to give his personal thanks to Captain Powerhouse, and of course here we are to give you the latest – let’s listen in.”
“Citizens! We’re gathered here today to thank one of our most illustrious men for once again keeping peace in our fair city; a man of justice, a man of morals, a man that every person in Millennium City can look up to in order to do the right thing. It is because of this man that we can say justice has been served and the streets are once again safe to walk, as the notorious Wall Walker has been safely handed over to our men in blue. Please, join me in celebrating our prestigious city hero, Captain Powerhouse!”
“Thank you Mayor Sentren. It’s an honor to once again be able to help our city, and fulfill the promise I made last time I crossed paths with Wall Walker to crush the roach beneath my boots.”
“The city thanks you for it, Captain Powerhouse, as does every citizen who lives in it.”
“… And there you have it, Scotty! Captain Powerhouse is sure to add this to his long list of accomplishments, and here’s hoping that he won’t be needed for a long, long time. Back to you, Scotty!”
"Thank you Sarah! I'm afraid that's everything we have for tonight folks at home, but tune in tomorrow for your number one source for news, Channel 7! Stay safe and be good!"
~~~~~~
Four days. Four days since you'd heard anything from Ditch. Suspicious? Maybe. Perhaps you were just grateful for the time to think and recover. Maybe you’d tried texting her through the number she’d last contacted you with, but no response. Only if you were lucky would you catch her at HQ, and even then she wouldn’t stay long.
But after days of silence, you finally received another text message from Ditch.
“I have new info on how Umbra has been capturing heroes. A game changer. I know we got off to a shaky start, but I want to give it one more go. HQ, 11pm.”
Her message was enticing; new info. A “game changer”. New info meant new hope, more of a chance. The number of heroes was slowly but surely dwindling.. Time was clearly running out. Alright, You think. One more go.
But she’d never showed. You’d been sitting around HQ for almost over an hour, heavy rain pounding down on the recently patched up roof, and there was no sign of Ditch ever being there that day. The place was empty, no trace of her, she sent no other messages.. Was she coming at all?
BANG BANG BANG BANG.
Abrupt knocking on the double doors, enough to make one jump in surprise. “Th-they’re fucking l-locked.. Dear god.. Who locked the damn doors?! Open up! Please!” Must’ve locked behind the last person to enter. The voice was clearly Ditch, filled with panic. Whoever opened the door would find her standing there, eyes alive with fear, absolutely drenched from the rain.. and in her arms, was an unconscious boy.
He was incredibly thin and frail, so much that it was almost hard to look at him. His clothing was ripped and torn, and provided him no safety from the sudden chilly weather. His exposed skin was covered in various cuts and bruises, some even still bleeding, as well as many painful looking scars. The most noticeable scar were two slashes on his left cheek - they looked freshly healed.
“H-he approached me in the streets and then he c-collapsed in my arms and I.. I didn’t … didn’t know what to do..” She stammered. Ditch had never looked so afraid. She was holding the child tightly, though she looked extremely tired. He was maybe only a little older than ten years. His dirty and unkempt white hair fell between his closed eyes and past his ears. He had to be from the streets.
“He’s he’s.. gotta be cold, and.. And hungry, and I.. he just.. He j-just passed out, and.. his.. His eyes, th-they glowed.. He’s super, he’s gotta be, and I just..c-couldn’t.. l-leave him..” She got choked up, unable to continue. | DITCHLooks like you're stuck.Name:UnknownAge:UnknownGender:
UnknownFamily:In their first ever city-wide broadcast, Ditch has mentioned a father. (More to come IC.)Appearance:
No one knows Ditch's true face. If they ever broadcast their face, it's hooded with a skeleton mask. You can hardly even tell their gender, because they muffle their voice using audio software.Method of Operation:
Ditch has never been seen in the flesh. They are known to stop crimes through technology, and though it is unknown if they have superpowers, most assume. Any cyber crimes, or crimes that are committed through the use of technology, are almost always stopped by Ditch. Someone sending an email with launch codes? Never sends, deleted from the system. Bank accounts being drained by hackers? Oh, looks like your computer's fried. Every time they stop a crime, a message pops up on the closest tech item, saying, "Looks like you're stuck. -Ditch." Through doing this, the name Ditch has become very well known. Only once has Ditch broadcasted to every screen in the city, warning them of Umbra.Themesong:
Cigarette Daydreams - Cage the Elephant |
43,503 | 1,193 | 196 | 314 | 285 | “I could be studying right now.”
Another flash lit up near the back ceiling as Reaper checked her phone once more, the light nearly blinding her steel-blue gaze – no point keeping them black right now. It was quickly blinked away only to be replaced with an aggravated sigh. Still no message from Ditch, or anyone else either. The screen went black and Reaper replaced the device in her pocket once more before her arm went behind her head as she lounged on her shadows, glaring moodily at the ceiling and ignoring her supposed teammates beneath her. Initially the vigilante had been on the hanging platform once more, but as more time passed soon Reaper had the shadows behind the great red curtains moving, solidifying above the platform for what she now laid on. It wouldn’t be inappropriate to call it a hammock.
Despite her aggravation Reaper was worried. It was nearing midnight with no sign of Ditch, and while there was a chance that the girl had played them for something, it was much more logical to assume something had happened. It wouldn’t be the first time, with Lava King the latest victim of these disappearances. How did one even go about capturing a giant monster made of rock and lava? She doubted Ditch would have a chance if caught alone … or at least that they’d know about it from the explosions that would rock the city.
In a city like Millennium City spreading out to find one person would be almost impossible. Nonetheless as time ticked on Reaper parted her lips to suggest the crazy idea, only to still as something in her surroundings shifted. From the mass of darkness that made the city in her mind’s eye a blob separated as it got closer. Beacons. Approaching quickly. She almost thought initially that it was one, but as they got closer it became more distinct. One average. The other smaller, lighter, less dense; akin to a child, or someone who lived a very boring life.
All at once the shadows at Reaper’s feet disconnected from the red curtain and slowly lowered, allowing the vigilante to casually slide down and land easily on her feet. She completely ignored the others gathered to walk to the edge of the stage and jump off, only to stalk towards the door. The banging started halfway on her approach but Reaper’s stride didn’t break. It was relieved to hear Ditch, though the panic in her voice was cause for concern. A quick flick of her fingers had the door unlocked, and Reaper flung the doors open with her eyes narrowed. Yet the name of the other vigilante died at the tip of her tongue as she took in the pathetic sight before her.
Though Reaper froze up her shadows didn’t, acting almost on her own as at her feet two long tendrils akin to tentacles rose up behind her, reaching over the vigilante’s shoulder, one touching the boy’s limp hair and the other moving to Ditch’s arm. It di explain, a little, why Ditch was so late. She was a vigilante just like them after all, and, well, Reaper didn’t hunt in her teenage years to not know what to do after falling in a river – or getting drenched, in this case.
“It took you an hour to get him here?” The redhead finally hissed, even as her the two shadows now moved with purpose. The one near Ditch’s arm latched on to curl around the blonde and pull her as Reaper moved further into the auditorium once more, the other shadow slamming the doors shut before disappearing back into the darkness. In one smooth motion as she walked Reaper yanked her hoodie over her head – the first aid kit and her bottle of mace spilled to the ground - only to place the oversized garment on the stage’s edge away from Tank’s destruction.
“Set him down. RT, you can heal can’t you?” Reaper’s gaze, still remaining steel-blue glanced to Raven Tale even as she retrieved her phone once more. “He has some injuries. And the rest of you – give him your jackets. He’s freezing, we need to build a nest. I'll see if I can get hold my doctor for a late night patient." | Name
Zoey KasimirQuote
--Alias
ReaperAge
23Gender
FemaleFamily
Father . Mother, passed. Distant family otherwise.Occupation
University student.Appearance
Standing at 6’1’’ Zoey is a rather tall woman, but thankfully isn’t so thin as to appear sickly due to her active lifestyle, leaving a fair amount of muscle packed onto her body. Her red hair is such a light shade that it almost appears to be orange, the strands falling straight down to her mid back, though more often than not she has bangs falling into her face. Said face has rather elegant, if harsh looking features made up of sharp, hard lines with high cheekbones and brows near constantly furrowed above her grey-blue eyes. Sadly this all adds up to Zoey having a natural ‘resting bitch face’, often appearing to be judging everything about you with a single glance.
Due to her upbringing nothing she wears makes her more approachable either, her casual wear often consisting of slacks and button up shirts or high brand sleeveless tops, and sunglasses she probably spent too much on. Zoey probably doesn’t even own a pair of jeans.
Well… except one pair. Reaper’s vigilante costume is made purely to be as non-conspicuous as possible, made up of simple loose jeans, gloves, and an oversized hoodie, all in black to match the theme of course. The only thing that really makes it stand out at all in a crowd is that if anyone glanced beneath the hood Reaper is always wearing a full head balaclava, the only openings being two eye holes – though even then her eyes are constantly blacked over anyway. No skin is on show, and due to the size of the hoodie it helps hide her gender as well.Method of Operation
Zoey is a vicious thing, and an equally dirty fighter. Since she’s often in mid to close combat she doesn’t hesitate to use cheap tricks to seal a victory, and often relies on surprise and brute strength to end a confrontation before it can truly begin. Due to the latter she isn’t highly known, though there are definitely enough whispers in the streets to gain attention. Thankfully no one seems to realize she’s a woman yet, between trying not to talk in costume and often slouching to further hide her features, which additionally puts less emphasis on her height.
Though, if it’s ever publicly found out that Reaper is a female she has so many cheesy lines ready to go.Personality
Zoey is rather bitter and sarcastic, despite trying to appear more elegant than she is. Even with her efforts to be aloof and untouchable she can be quick to fluster or anger if the right buttons are pressed, and will lash out. She’s pessimistic, and at times with her biting attitude can be a bit of a bully. Truth be told it’s rather accidental though, as Zoey is too preoccupied with her own problems to care about harassing others. She’s taken to finding distractions as well and can easily focus on something completely off topic, such as thinking ‘what would I say to this mugger if I did wear a spandex superhero costume?’ while completely jumping him.
Also, since she’s had everything provided for her Zoey is a bit loose with money. She knows every dollar counts, but what’s a bit here and there?Superpower
Zoey is for all intents and purposes a darkness elemental. The main part of being this elemental is that she can sense the same darkness in others; however no one is pure sunshine and rainbows so it acts more like a sixth sense of ‘beacons’ to people, excluding young children. In large cities it’s like being surrounded by a sea of these beacons all melding together into a gelatinous blob, only the particularly large ones such as murderers standing out in any capacity, and with concentration she can ‘separate’ those beacons approximately a block around her to pick out locations in the overall mass.
Were it only this Zoey might have her hands full with vigilante work, but thankfully that rather useless if constant part of her abilities isn’t what makes her a threat. Zoey’s specialization is the ability to solidify shadows to create things as needed, her ‘signature’ being claws made of darkness – stronger than her grip and farther than her reach. However she can also form them into other things, such as barriers that would be too weak to do more than slow a bullet but would solidly stop a body if she’s fast enough. Her father as another example could use a shadow as thin as a needle to perform minute details his hands were too large for. In terms of shadows Zoey can also perform a ‘shadowstep’ of short distances by stepping into or forming a large enough shadow to disappear into them to another. Obviously this power set is most useful at night when there’s less light sending her power source scurrying, but its’ not impossible to use them in the sunshine and light – just weaker. Even her own shadow can be used to an extent.
The last useful piece of her powers is that when concentrating, particularly in the heat of battle, Zoey feels no pain – which isn’t always a good thing as she’s as delicate as a normal human. Only her own logic at seeing her wounds would let her know when the time to retreat is, and leaves her paranoid of her back in particular.
Visually, as an elemental darkness tends to react around her. Sometimes her shadow tends to ‘wisp’ little tendrils of smoky black up and curl around her legs when she’s idle, or her eyes can be darkened to hide their color.Skills
Zoey learned sambo martial arts when she was younger, though never really put it to any real world use until recently. She does however keep quite fit, frequenting gyms or jogging through the streets. Aside from that due to hunting trips she’s quite patient when it comes to waiting for ‘prey’, and knows some trapping techniques as well as how to handle a rifle.
Zoey also has the fantastic ability to laugh at her own jokes and not feel self-conscious about it.Equipment
Mace – Yep, a bottle of ordinary mace. Zoey tends to forget about it since she’s so reliant upon her powers however.
First Aid Kit, including a mirror! – Because Zoey can’t feel pain until a scuffle is already over she always comes prepared in case she misses any deeper wounds, hiding a small first aid kit within the confines of her hoodie. It comes with a small make-up mirror stashed inside to check the extent of damage to her back when necessary. It’s better than wondering later on ‘why does my shoulder blade feel like dust?’Biography
As the first and only child to the Kasimir family Zoey was the pride of her parents’ life, and with their social status never had to want for anything. While both her parents came from upper class families their fortune truly came from her father, a talented surgeon who was rather highly sought after. He had a near hundred percent survivability on his performances, even the more dangerous ones, due to the least kept secret in his medical ward – Dr. Kasimir wasn’t a normal human.
It was within days after her birth that it became apparent Zoey took after her father, and in more than just his sharp features. He was of course overjoyed and Zoey started learning even before she could walk to use her powers, identical to his. Her mother was often playfully exasperated with her father, but for years they were a happy family unit. It was only when Zoey started school did she start to realize her life wasn’t perfect. She was six when the exasperation was no longer playful, and the affectionate whispers her parents shared with upturned lips turned to harsh accusations and clenched teeth. Though they held on as long as they could to their marriage, at least for the sake of their daughter, the escalating disgust was coming to its very inevitable conclusion.
Yet it never came to that, but Zoey feverently wished that it did.
It was around when the ‘divorce’ word was finally being vocalized that the route was violently derailed. An accident happened – Zoey’s mother had been out shopping when, out on the streets, she kneeled down to pick something up and lost her balance, falling in the path of an incoming vehicle. She didn’t even make it to her husband’s operating table. While Dr. Kasimir was briefly looked at due to their known impending divorce, it was obvious he wasn’t a part of it – the accident was even caught on surveillance camera.
Following her mother’s subsequent funeral Zoey withdrew into herself, much to her father’s concern. It’s what prompted him to dismiss a good portion of their staff and quit his job to fall back on their savings to spend more time at home with his little joy, his work no longer centerfold to his day. He taught her more about her powers over the years, immersed himself even in her school and taught her all about how important image was. When she was older they began having annual hunting trips where Zoey was taught how to track, to trap and most importantly just get to spend some time with her only parent. The hunting was scary at first, but as a darkness elemental as well her father had a distinctive beacon to her, which only became more pronounced after her mother’s death.
When it came time for her to start high school Dr. Kasimir finally returned to being a surgeon, though he signed Zoey up for sambo martial arts as well. His worry knew no bounds, he wanted his little girl to be able to take care of herself. He even got her to carry mace – something she let him know she found useless. They had powers, Dad. But he insisted, and she relented. Yet as his hours at work once more grew and Zoey grew more confident in her prowess is when the ideas started. Vigilantism. What better way to also use her abilities for good, like the man she looked up to? Her grades were decent, but definitely not enough to follow in his footsteps and be a surgeon or anything. It was a whimsical and surprisingly optimistic thought, and before long Zoey found herself sneaking out and beginning to foil purse snatchers and muggings in the underbelly of their city. Well, what few there were anyway – Zoey lived in a good neighbourhood in a good city. She found herself getting more and more into it despite a lack of activity, soon looking through back logs of crimes by sneaking into the local sleepy precinct via her shadowstep and going through cold cases.
It was going through these that she came across the box – Kasimir, A.. Her mother. Figuring at first someone filed it wrong it still sent an ache through Zoey, and it was morbid curiosity that had her slowly taking the box and opening it. It was there, scrawled in the pages of an old notebook that Zoey found out why this box was in cold cases. Turns out it was a misfile due to some loose notes scrawled at the top, yet one in particular stuck out to her.
‘On video victim appears to have been yanked forward’.
It was such a small thing. Obviously it went no where, there was no one around to yank her forward – it was even on video so the half-hearted scribble was discarded. On video. A video sitting in the box, dusty and unseen for years. Something Zoey never wanted to see in her life if she could help it. And one, stupid, mistaken note had her taking it out to see for herself.
As soon as the video started Zoey knew it was a bad idea, but like a train wreck couldn’t tear her eyes away. When her mother kneeled on the sidewalk to pick up her dropped wallet Zoey knew exactly what was coming and finally averted her gaze from watching her mother’s expression on the grainy video as she pitched forward. That’s how Zoey saw it.
Rewind. Watch. Rewind. Watch. Zoom in – the grain stayed but so did the darkening pixels around her mother’s wrist in the old surveillance video. As Zoey’s mother grabbed onto the wallet that had fallen just off the sidewalk something barely seen wrapped around her wrist, and from the motion of her body pulled her forward. It was such a tiny detail, it was no wonder no one picked up on it – most would probably even dismiss it as bad picture quality. It was impossible for anyone to have pulled her forward after all.
Anyone except someone who had the ability to solidify shadows.
Denial set in quickly, and as quick as Zoey could shove everything back together and back in place she was out of the precinct – and out of the city. The constant shadow stepping had her exhausted but she ended up in the grounds her father took her to every year. Hours after the sun went down he found her, and despite all the denial, the rationalization, as soon as Zoey saw him it came pouring out. A slew of vile words, accusations, he lied to her, but most of all one burning question.
“Why?! What was the point?! What – did you want to bang another woman? She was your wife! Was it money? She was going to divorce your crazy ass and take half of your precious fortune-“
“She was going to take you away from me.”
No denial. No softening. Just a simple fact that took the wind from Zoey’s sails and left her gaping at him. What do you even say to that? What can you say to that? There wasn’t a happy ending to this tale. He had asked her what he could do to fix this, to make her happy – and she told him nothing would make this okay. So Dr. Kasimir did the last thing he could, and gave his daughter justice. The next morning he had turned himself in, admitting to what and how he murdered his wife. There was only one thing he was adamant about – he was the only one in the family with these abilities.
Unable to stay in her family home with all the bittersweet and corrupted memories Zoey found herself applying for university across the country and subsequently moving on getting acceptance. As the new head of the Kasimir family it was easy after all. For a few years she kept her head down, didn’t show her powers and almost grew to resent them. More than that she grew to resent this damn, corrupted city with its rampant crime and she grew to resent the rush she got the first time she stepped in to help someone again.
It’s what Zoey always wanted, after all.
Nearing the end of her degree Zoey is finally back into vigilantism. She couldn’t stay away from it in this city. Here though there’s no precinct trawls needed, as Reaper finds crime whenever they go looking. Subtlety is needed, of course – who else in this world is a known darkness elemental? Confidentiality is key.
Which is why Zoey finds herself considering outright bolting from the city as her mouse hovered over the delete button of her email, looking at this message from the infamous Ditch. Why risk her identity? Why risk anything when it’d be so easy to pick up and leave?
Well, maybe it was time to redeem the darkened path.Theme Song
Money - Mystery SkullsRelationships
None currently.Extra
We’re not normal, that’s for sure. |
43,504 | 1,193 | 197 | 468 | 617 | It was cold, the busy streets passing her by, mist clinging to snow white hair that slowly began to turn grey with the passing hours in smog. Her iPod playing a relaxing tune on a portable speaker. She made her way down the streets, expecting to go to the abandoned arena that her and Manny began to train at.
It was an interesting few days. Ditch had not really spoken much, no one on the team actually. It was just her and Omega, and honestly, she sometimes regretted picking him as a training partner. Dealing with zero gravity was not something she was taking too easily, when it weighed on her summons it felt heavy to breath, when she was taken up she could barley find out where she was. It was even more disorienting than if she was thrown in water.
Her phone vibrating, she fished it out of her pocket. The smooth surface in her hand causing her to ignore a cat call from some random teen. Guess Ditch wanted the team back, she couldn't keep the smile from pressing on her lips. Turning down an alleyway, pulling up her hood as she summoned her mask, calling forth Dullahan, Raven tale began to take shape.
With practised hands she began to make another text to Omega. "Guess practice is cancelled." Indeed it was, and work was called forth.
Hopping on the bike, she was at HQ in a half hour. Just in time to escape the rain, her ebony cane in hand, she dispersed the motorcycle that followed her. Listing to others, guess she was a little late, but than..Where was Ditch?
Shrugging her shoulders, Raven bowed her head. "Good to see you guys again," maybe Ditch was getting this, game changer. Perhaps she was just preparing for it. The woman was smart, she would be fine. So, she sat near the stage, bringing out her iPod again, carefully switching to ear buds and using an ear to pass the time.
Though as hours passed, worry began to ebb at her mind. She wouldn't have gathered everyone if she was ill prepared. She was not that kind of person. At first she was annoyed, thinking she could have gotten a coffee before she came here. Now she was worried that something may have happened to her team mate.
"Do you th-" about to ask what may have happened. Raven shot her head up, frozen for a moment before she stood. She could hear Reaper already, the woman has to know. "Someone's outside, running.." Not even a moment later she heard the banging, Reaper opening the door, for Ditch to all but fall into the building.
It was obvious the woman was in distress, cradling something in her arms. Listening to the explanation though, she found her breath caught in her throat. She was holding a kid? He didn't even sound like one, more like a dog, a starved one, he was so light, so cold. Kid had to be in bad shape, and a super? What happened to him?
This was why she was a vigilant, to keep such things from happening. Following after them, she knelt down near the tiny shape. Gently taking his arm only to feel that he really was cold, and soaked to the bone. Without a word she began taking off her coat, covering the kid while exposing her own porcelain like skin.
"RT, you can heal can’t you?"
A chill ran down her spine at the question. Of course Fuax was needed, he was always needed. The bird decided to no longer listen to her, after he found out she was not as captured by his story as she was as a child. "I'll see if I poses the ability. But I can not promise anything."
Flipping open the book, Raven began to run her fingers over the pictures. Trying her best to listen to the wing beats of the Phoenix, feel the comforting feathers, as she called his line. "May his wings of everlasting fire guide you well, only to help those who fell." Her voice having a slight plea, a edge that she hoped would reach the bird.
In a beautiful call, a even note, she felt the talons of the Phoenix dig into her shoulder. "My friend, please, I must ask for your help." Yet the bird only stared, flapping it's wings in defiance.
"It is a child's life I ask you to help. Please, offer tears and heal his wounds." She felt the weight of the creature lean forward, looking over the child, judging him in a way. The same way it done to every human from this plain. She hated that look, but she had to keep him, she couldn't loose Fuax now.
"Heal him" her voice raised only a bit, but it was enough to anger the beast. Flapping it's wings, it dug it's talons in her shoulder, crying at her in rage. He was not going to listen to her, she wasn't connected enough to him, her link was weak. And thus, she let the child down.
Crimson ran down her arm before she closed the book, dispersing the beast in a flash. Her breathing slightly laboured, she leaned back, taking in a deep breath. "Forgive me, I'm useless here..."
Thats exactly it, she was useless. Her coat was helping more than she could. Making sure the talon marks on her shoulder were fine, she began to stand. Better not to crowd him, maybe someone else could help him out right now, instead she moved away. making space for anyone who still had a hand to lend.
Least TB and Zoey knew what they were doing. "Is there any water bottles? Fabric? He'll fare much better if they can be heated." | Name:Aurora Lorell
Quote:"One should never fear the dark. Just enjoy the light you have left."
Alias: Raven tale
Age: 22
Gender: female
Family: Father: Rick Lorell, Mother: Sarah Lorell
Occupation: Horse trainer and olympic rider.
Aurora is seen to be a beauty. With a lean build and fair skin standing in at around 5,2. Her eyes are what really set her apart besides the snowy form. Red and clouded as though in a veil of mist she almost always keeps them closed due to being bullied as a child. Many saying they are unnerving to look at.
Method of Operation: No one knows that its truly her. Those that have gained her help have only seen the creatures that she calls forth. Usually beasts from mythology that have few features. If shes forced to be seen she stays silent, trying to keep her age and gender a secret. If anyone found out who she was, the world would find out everything about her in minutes.
Instead she uses her tour as a way to keep her location foggy. Being a world and Olympic rider, she has been to all corners of the world. Each one earning a job or two from her. Her method of transportation is a horse she had conjured herself, what she sees as the only link one could give her. Still she reminds herself that she should never get involved with things too big, but the chance to use her abilities has always been too tempting.
Superpower: Aurora has the ability to conjure beasts from stories she has read or been told. Using a leather bound journal as a catalyst to recite the right lines to call forth her companions. She found that the larger impact a story holds to her, the easier it is to call her creatures. Though strange enough she has found that it is more difficult to create that which is already in this world. Being able to make a wraith she has massive difficult in creating a bird.
Many would think this ability is limitless. Sadly Aurora must read or hear the tale in which her conjure is being made from. Even than she can't always make them unless it had a impact on her in some way. Because of this she has a habit of asking others for stories. Any kind hoping that she could advance her abilities further.
Her biggest weakness is that this only works when she has a sound mind and when the book is open. Growing up taming thousand pound animals has made her difficult to frighten. But if she falls pray to fear, the companions she had called would turn on her. If her book is closed her train of thought would break, causing the creatures to disperse and leave her side.
Skills: an amazing horse back rider, her hearing is better than most. Memory is above average. Shes been told that her voice is rather calming due to her nature. Shes also had a good chance of catching a lie so long as it's spoken.
Equipment: Book of tales. Every story is written in Braille. Because of this she keeps it hidden from view and no one has yet to look through it's pages. If someone found out what was inside than the trail would be short in finding out that Aurora is the owner.
Personality: Aurora is a seeker of knowledge. Someone who needs to know things small and large. Heavy and light. This was due to the fact that she was born blind, growing up with being sheltered and lead around she found herself growing tired of the treatment quickly. Even though she would have a pilot smile when someone offers to take her hand or tell her where something is, she would find herself loathing on the inside. Wanting to be as independent as she can be. Pushing herself to be better at what she dose to prove to those around her that she dose not need her eyes in order to live her life. She thinks that many who help her do it not for herself, but so they could feel better. Thinking that they would be a hero for a small moment, she can not stand the thought of being a tool used in someone's self need to feel important. And thus it has only added to her independence.
Yet even with the quite demands of independence, Aurora is a calming presence. Soft spoken shes not one to raise her voice. When it comes to her friends, she is usually the one to end a fight with words alone. Comforting others when they are in need not using sayings of encouragement, but sitting at their side in silence.
She had an interesting habit though. When in good company she tends to speak in riddles, thinking that it's due to the stories she obsesses over, she tries her best to keep it under wraps. Even so, those who she calls friends will tell her she slipped back into her odd way of speaking.
Her greatest fear is being in absolute silence, she also tends to tap her finger on her cane. Sound is her greatest asset and without it she turns into a shell of her usual self. Fumbling over words and sometimes not able to use her powers safely.
Biography: Aurora was born into the business of horses. Her father a trick rider and her mother a cross country racer, the two were a power house in the horse world. Before she was even born they were getting her ready with what style and what horse she would ride, only for their dreams to be crushed when they saw her for the first time. A tiny albino who's retinas never even developed leaving her blind.
yet that did not stop the girl from living up to her family's potential. She became connected with the animals that her family made a living from. Every fall she went through, she would stand from, no injury would ever scare her away. The feeling of power a horse would give was too great to leave. Where in any other situation she would be led around and treated like a child. In the arena she was expected to handle things herself and for once she herself could be the leader. At age six she was competing in not only trick riding, but cross country and dressage.
Having a love for the stories that her mother would read her. Aurora began to print Braille in her own journal, often reading them out loud to her horse. After all, he was the only one that could deal with a 13 year old speaking for hours at a time. Sleeping in the stalls with her books clutched in hand the journal only grew thicker, and heavier. Till eventually the words she recited caused the animal to spook. Thrashing in the box and causing her to scramble out, screams of rage and fear ringing through the stable.
Before she knew it her parents were at her side, asking her what was wrong yet whatever had caused the damage was gone. Again and again it had happened, each time with her reading. Its taken her two full months to find out that the cause of her horse’s spooking was the conjuration of creatures from her own words.
Her own abilities.
Another idea that she could gain independence she began to work. Conducting experiments to figure out the rights and wrongs of her abilities. Its taken her years to find things out on her own. By the time she was 17 she was a competitor in the Olympics. Finally a chance where she was away from those who thought she needed them. All she needed was her book and her cane. Once walking through the stable halls at night. Checking her companion to make sure their first run in the Olympics would be fine. Yet as she opened the door she found something was wrong.
Her stallion named Beauty in a Shadow, was gone.
Her first thought was to contact the security to find him. Fear gripping her mind she could still remember the sweat that ran down her palms as she gripped her cane. Yet when she clicked it on the stone ground she made up her mind. Her book in hand she ran her finger across the pages. "With eyes made for night, and fire as fierce as a devil's light. He tracked down hunters of his land. And made them swear he could never stand." The sound of light feet pattering next to her she found a smile on her lips when the sound of a ragged fox was found at her side. To her eyes there was blank. Yet to anyone who saw it was a fox with two tails, told in Japanese lore to be the devil in a different skin, with eyes of lit green and a scroll strapped to it's back. "Find Beauty." It was all she said, and it was all she needed to. That night she took matters into her own hands as the fox lead her through the halls. Away from the stable and out to the parking lot to hear the half drugged screams of her stallion.
That night something snapped, she no longer used her abilities to gain a smile as she called forth a crimson wraith from the tale "a wife in the bog." The gut wrenching shrieks and screams rang true to her ears. the creature she chosen playing on their fear, having them see a different story as it led them away, leaving her stallion.
she never been so frightened for her horse in her life. Ever since she vowed to make sure that nothing like that would happen to another creature. To another ride, another person, so long as she could help it. She knew it was not just for others though, she never felt so needed until that moment. Like she could actually do something outside her own family. That she could accomplish something on her own. Its difficult for her still, not even her parents know about her second hobby. Her father even looks at those with powers in fear.
At age 18 she ended up moving out. She couldn't risk her family finding out that she was Raven's Tale. Shes done everything to keep that name down. To keep herself hidden so that they would never find out it was her. What if she gained a enemy? What if someone wanted her hurt and they found out that the one they were after was just a blind woman who lived alone?
She was living a dangerous game. And yet, even still as she told herself over and over again that she was playing with fire. She could not stop. The sense of power too intoxicating, the thankful words too well received. She still competes in competitions, but Aurora still finds herself with a smile on her lips whenever she would hear that someone was saved by a strange beast.
She just hopes that the day when she finds herself in deep water would come later. Much, much later.
"We are not normal."
friesian stallion who she named Loki as a barn name he was registered as Beauty in Shadow. He's the only living creature who knows Aurora has abilities. |
43,505 | 1,193 | 198 | 1,284 | 117 | TURN BACK
Turn Back had been hanging out by the stage, kicking a piece of rubble around as the group waited for Ditch. He'd experimented with his newfound power over the past few days, holding his hand above a candle, then above the range on the stove, on the way here he had even dunked his arm into a fire barrel, freaking out the homeless people using it for warmth. Other than some singed hair though, it all seemed to be working. He had a new power, the ability to absorb heat. It wasn't fire, as he'd originally thought, but the heat itself, taking that into him and using it to power his attacks. beyond that too, he'd discovered it gave him another benefit. He was tougher when holding onto that heat energy. His hand had slipped making dinner one night after experimenting, and the knife had just bounced off his skin instead of sending him to the hospital. The more heat he held, the tougher he was. Very useful for attacks he didn't see coming... It would take some getting used to, holding onto energy longer than he liked, but perhaps it was worth it.
His thoughts turned to the events of earlier that week, specifically what had happened after he'd left his fight with Reaper. He had gone back to Scarlett's house and gathered the money still lying around, as well as the clip Reaper had been so concerned about. In all, it was about three thousand dollars, and she just didn't care. He sighed and let his thoughts move on, having found Reaper again and getting the name of the doctor she was recommending...
Three days ago...
Jason Graves walked uncomfortably through the hallways of the doctors office, having gotten the address from a very tense conversation with Reaper. He finally arrived at the right door, balancing the tributes he'd brought for Scarlett. He opened the door and cleared his throat as he looked inside to the hospital style bed. "Scarlett? I, uh... Well, you've got a visitor, I guess."
Scarlett sat up in the bed, head turned towards the window. The bags under her eyes and her pale skin made her look sickly, but her posture and yearning look betrayed the fact. Her arm was wrapped heavily in bandaging as well as a sling. Upon Jason's arrival, her head turned sharply, looking the vigilante over, eyes narrowed. "..It sure looks that way." She muttered, voice hoarse. "What do you want?"
Jason took a deep breath and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He waved his prosthetic arm, hoping she's recognize him from that. He didn't like explaining that bit. "I came to apologize actually." He said, extending a box of chocolates towards her. "For my part in what landed you here. I panicked and didn't realize you weren't trying to hurt me."
Scarlett's gaze followed Jason's prosthetic, saying nothing but clearly remembering what had transpired. "..I appreciate the gesture, but chocolate upsets my stomach." Scarlett mumbled. "It's alright, I suppose. An understandable reaction. Giant tigers are life threatening after all."
Jason paused awkardly before putting the chocolates away, clearing his throat. "Well in that case, maybe I can get you something else..." He said, producing the biggest jar of catnip he'd been able to find. "There were better ways to handle the situation. I am sorry."
Scarlett blinked, staring at the jar for a moment before bursting out laughing. It wasn't a long laugh, but it was genuine. "I could've handled the situation better too," She said with a weak smile. "I can't control my powers very well, as you might've seen."
Jason chuckled, setting the jar down on her bedside table and crossing his arms. He was glad the tension had broken, and he showed the feral woman his fake arm again. "Neither can I sometimes, that's how I got this. It's a learning curve I suppose, figuring out how you do what you do and why. And when your powers are connected to emotions, it gets harder."
"You lost your arm because of your powers?" Scarlett whispered. "..damn." Her free hand traveled to her bandaged shoulder, fingertips touching the bandaging lightly. "I would very much like to keep my arm. Doc says there's hope... It would've been handy to know their was a doctor that treated supers, by the way." She snorted. "Not going to get a lot of places with these eyes, huh?"
Jason chuckled at that, looking around at the room. "It really would have been nice to know about this. I'm not sure how Reaper knows about this place, but... Well, let's just say I got really lucky when I lost my arm. Almost didn't make it, nobody in this city treats supers. Except this doctor, it seems. I'm glad we had Reaper with us, she knew where to get you. Actually..." Jason cleared his throat, changing the topic a bit. "I'd like to ask, i you don't mind... Do you have any idea why Umbra would be after you? It's just that after you passed out, some of his goons showed up..."
Scarlett bit her lip in thought. "Umbra, huh?" She said, a small smile creeping up on her face yet again. "There's a number of reasons he could want me." She said slowly. "Hasn't he.. Been kidnapping Heroes, though? I don't quite fit the theme." Scarlett chuckled. "For my powers, I guess? For my history, for my family.. No one knows what he wants."
"Well regardless;" Jason said, pulling a bottle of rum out of his backpack and setting it on Scarlett's bedside table, "They didn't get you. And you're on the mend now. We'll figure out what he wants, and how to stop him."
Scarlett grinned. "Well, look at you." She joked. "Chocolates, catnip, and rum. What else ya got there? Maybe a puppy or two?" Scarlett leaned back on the pillows proposed against the headboard. "You've got a team going, huh? Against Umbra?"
Jason laughed again, pulling up a chair and sitting beside the bed. "I've got like, Mary Poppin's backpack here, you never know what'll come out of it." His expression became more serious as the conversation shifted to Umbra. "We're... Trying. We have someone who seems to know a lot about him, and we're working together. Trying to, at least. None of us have ever really done the 'hero' thing before. But we're making it work. Right now it's a matter of damage control until we can pull a plan together. Saving people, staying ahead of him. I think you could do it too, if you wanted. I know you're not really the hero type, but most of us aren't either."
"I don't think I'd fit in well with your group." Scarlett said, almost wistfully. "I'm not a hero, nor a vigilante. I think you know my rep. I'm not one to save the day." She brushed a piece of bright-red hair behind her ear. There was truly no way it was her natural hair color. "S'alright. I'm better at working alone anyway."
"Hell, I'm no hero either." Jason said, leaning back in his chair. "I'm a pretty bad vigilante, if I'm being honest. I ain't out there to save people, I'm out there to hurt the ones who think they can take advantage. But maybe we can be better than that..." He coughed and smiled at Scarlett. "Don't listen to me, I'm no idealist. Just some guy hoping for the best. If you don't think you're a good fit, that's fine. It's not my place to try and give you advice, to be honest."
"Heh." Scarlett muttered at Jason's ramblings. "Maybe some other time. I'm not fit to be doing anything right now anyway." She smiled back at him. "I, uh. Never got your name." She paused. "I mean.. I.. Well.. I might've forgotten it." She mumbled. "Sorry."
"Oh, it's fine." Jason said with a small smile. "We only officially met the once, when you came into my office. I'm Jason Graves. Don't go spreading that around though, I need to keep the superpower thing a secret."
"Oh, don't worry, Jason. I can keep a secret." Scarlet said with a smirk. "The media picked an ironic name for me, seeing as my name's actually Scarlett n' all." She laughed. "But, uh.. Thanks. For taking me here, and saving me from Umbra, and uh, helping me with my taxes."
"That's what we're here for, Scarlett, I suppose. We're going to stop him. We're going to save the people he's kidnapped. We're going to make this city safe again. Well, as safe as it's ever been, I suppose." He said with a smirk. "But I think there's going to come a day soon here, when we'll be fighting. The biggest fight of our lives, against a very powerful enemy. And I don't want to push you or pressure you Scarlett, but... It'd be nice if we had someone backing us up if we need it. If you're ready."
Scarlett stared at Jason, heavily considering, before letting out a little sigh. "The bastard needs to go down anyway. You can call me if you need me." She proceeded to grab a piece of paper from the bedside table and write down her number with her good hand. "I can't guarantee I can be there, but if I can't I'll try to send some friends your way." She nodded. "Take care, Jason. And try not to die."
Jason took the paper gratefully before writing his own number on another one and giving it to her. "Thank you Scarlett. Just being willing to be there means a lot to me. To all of us. That's my number there, if you ever need anything... Well, I can't offer too much financially, but if you find yourself in trouble I'll do anything I can to help you. Thank you Scarlett."
Now...
Reaper's movement and the banging at the door shook Turn Back out of his revire however, and he turned his attention to what was going on there, his eyes widening as Ditch came through the door holding a young boy, soaked to the bone. Turn Back sprang to action immediately, hopping up onto the stage where Reaper set her hoodie and pulling his off as well, reaching out to wrap the child in the warm, heavy material. He gave pause as Raven Tale tried to use her healing magic, sighing as it seemed to fall flat. He turned around and grabbed his backpack, digging through it and pulling out a bottle of water and several granola bars, laying them on the stage he was kneeling on for the child. "Reaper's right," He said, though the words pained him a bit. He was still angry with her for what had happened the other night. "he needs to be warmed and he'll need food and water. Slowly though, not too much at once or he'll make himself sick. Raven, it's alright. You did what you could, and that's all anyone can ask."
Turn Back reached out and put the back of his hand on the child's forehead, pulling at away almost immediately. "He's burning up, he has a fever. Probably caught something out in those godforsaken streets. We need to bring his temperature down a little." Turn Back laid a hand on the child's forehead again, focusing his power to see if he could absorb just a little bit of the heat from the boy. "We still need to keep him warm though, it's a balancing act at this point. I'll try to stabilize his fever, somebody else should check his cuts, see if there's an obvious infections." | Name: Jason Grave
Quote: "Pain is temporary. Victory is eternal."
Alias: Turn Back or TB
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Family: Mother (Deceased), Father
Occupation: Office assistant
Appearance: Tall and lithe, Jason is what many would describe as lanky. He has above average strength for his size, but not of any surprising strength. His face is hard beyond his years, his brow in an almost perpetual furrow. His icy blue eyes seem to pierce into ones soul, and he keeps his black hair combed back close to his head. His left hand is a prosthetic, one of the new models that link to the users nervous system and respond in a similar manner to a real hand.
Jason wears business-type button-up shirts and nice ties for his day job, however once the sun sets it's a very different story. Jason changes from a 'mild-mannered' office person to a darkly-dressed vigilante. He wears a tight black shirt and loose-fit dark jeans. He wears a black glove on his right hand, and has steel-toed boots.
Method of Operation: Jason tends to leap into the middle of a fray, getting into fights with criminals at the drop of a hat. He often allows himself to be hit several times near the beginning of a fight, both to lull his opponents into a sense of security, and to build up his own power. Once he starts to fight back, he uses a folding staff to gather momentum, going for the head, the gut, the knees, any weak point he thinks he can exploit.
Superpower: Kinetic absorbtion and redistribution.
Jason has the ability to absorb and redirect and kinetic energy that he is aware of coming into contact with him. This manifests ina few different ways, as listed below.
Enhanced Stamina
By reabsorbing the energy expended while walking or running, Jason can go much further than the normal person without needing to stop for rest. This is not indefinite however, as some energy is lost with each step.
Limited Invulnerability
So long as Jason is aware of physical attacks made against him, he can absorb the energy of the blow without it harming him. This includes bullets.
Energy Storage/Redirection
Jason can store any kinetic energy absorbed within his body or any object he touches as excess potential energy, to be used as extra force. For example, if he is hit by someone, he can store the energy of that hit into his staff to hit them back with the strength of the staff, and the force they had originally hit him with.
Weaknesses
The energy conversion used by Jason is unstable, making any stored energy equally unstable. If he stores the energy for too long, it will begin to entropy, with explosively catastrophic results. This weakness enhances in both speed and power the more energy is absorbed. For example, the force of an apple hitting his head could lie dormant for weeks or months before detonating, but the power of a train could only be held for a few minutes. In addition to this, Jason is not immune to damage taken from unknown sources, he must be aware of an enemy in order to use his powers to defend himself.
Skills: Jason has learned how to fight, though not in any particular style. More the 'jump and run' tactics young gang members often use on the streets, with the major exception being: Jason doesn't run.
Jason has an above-average understanding of technology, and can familiarize himself with a new computer quite quickly.
Jason is a mediocre baseball player.
Equipment: Folding staff, tucked into a back pocket. Cell phone. Steel-toed boots. A handful of metal nuts
Personality: Jason is often cold upon his first meeting. He keeps very professional and businesslike, often not exchanging many words at all. Once he begins to warm up to a person however, another side of him comes out. Jason will begin smiling and joking more, enagaging in conversation and sharing stories of his life. He doesn't have many people he would consider a friend, but those he does he would give his life for.
Enemies, on the other hand, see a completely reversed Jason. They see someone who will sit and take a beating, any punishment they can dole out while laughing in their face. Criminals know fear as Turn Back begins to taunt them as he gets up and uses the force of their own blows to beat them senseless. Those who seek to do him harm see a cold, hard face with an icy stare before a booted sole darkens their vision, sometimes for the last time.
Biography: Jason was born into a poor immigrant family from Europe, who wanted nothing more than to see their boy become a famous American baseball player (Which is, of course, the American dream). His life was dominated by the sport, from playing catch with his father in the back yard using stones when they couldn't afford a new ball, to joining a local little league team as soon as he was big enough. Jason't family had always been low on money, but his mother and father managed to scrape together everything Jason needed for the team. Unfortunately, it seemed Jason was doomed to a life of mediocre sports talent. He never really shone on the field, making a few nice plays and a good hit here or there, but not reaching the standards his parents hoped he would.
Jason's life changed for the first time at the age of 12. During one of the final baseball games of the season, he stood a bit too close to the plate in an all-planned effort to hit the ball with more force. His left hand was struck by the pitch, a fastball right to his knuckles, though Jason felt no pain. He soon forgot the incident however, until a week or two later, when his hand began to ache. Not able to afford a doctor, his parents looked at it, said it seemed fine, and wrapped it with soft cloth, to try and sooth the paid. Soon after, Jason's hand exploded in a flash of purple, the decaying energy from the baseball weeks prior finally taking its toll. The family was introduced to one of the facets of the 'American Dream'; privatized healthcare. The bills from the hospitals, all the tests done, and getting even the cheapest prosthetic they could find all but bankrupted the family. Each parents was forced to take another job just to survive, and that was when Jason's life changed again.
Late one night, walking home form work in an attempt to save money on bus fare, Jason's mother was jumped by a group of muggers. Desperately trying to defend her hard-earned money, she fought back against her attackers, who decided it was easier to simply pull a knife. Jason got the news before leaving for school the next day; his mother had been killed. This sent the boy's father into a spiraling depression, he barely ate or slept, and stopped talking to anybody at all. Jason did everything he could to help, but his father was left a broken shell of a man. Soon after, Jason swore vengeance on the criminals of his city, vowing to use his newfound powers to destroy the people who had taken both his parents from him and ruined his life.
Theme Song: TBD
Relationships: TBD
Extra: We are not normal. |
43,506 | 1,193 | 199 | 195 | 102 | Omega paced the floor of the newly renovated headquarters. Well, he was walking as if he were on the floor, but was actually strolling around on the high ceiling of the auditorium. He had been checking the integrity of the repairs, seeing as they were in the middle of a rainstorm and Ditch had yet to arrive. It was quite odd when he thought about it. Ditch had always been the first to show up the previous couple of times she called the team together, so he assumed she was the punctual type.
He looked up -- or down rather -- at his fellow vigilantes and a pleased grin formed on his face. It looked like most everyone had made the return trip, and it seemed the team was solidifying. With the steady flow of supers being captured and the threat of Umbra increasing, it was good to see things coming together. He had even started training with Raven Tale in the past few days, something that he had only done alone before.
Just as he bent down to examine the ceiling once more, a loud series of bangs rocked the barely-furnished auditorium and echoed throughout the room. He looked down to see Reaper already headed to the entrance. He could faintly hear Ditch’s voice screaming through the door, and she sounded panicked, though he was too far up to hear exactly what she was saying. She burst through the door as Reaper opened it cradling a small, unconscious child and Omega’s eyes widened behind his goggles. Even from his current position, Omega could see that the kid was in bad shape. He quickly descended landing on the ground as Reaper rushed the boy to the stage, followed by Raven Tale and Turn Back. With first aid, warmth, and provisions already being applied, Omega turned to Ditch who was still standing at the entrance, soaked and shaken. He figured he didn't want to overcrowd the operation, so he proceed quickly to help her.
“C'mon, let's have a seat.”
He walked her to the nearest couch while simultaneously keeping an eye on the vigilantes helping the child. Not trying to increase her panic, he spoke in a calm but urgent voice.
“Alright, calm down and tell me what happened. A little slower this time.” | Name: Manhattan McClain
Quote: “And who’s gonna stop me? …You?”
Alias: Omega
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Family: Mother - Sonya (super); Father - Richard, older brother - Ellis (non-super)
Occupation:
Coming from a family who manages their finances pretty well, Manny makes his money work for him, giving him time to train most days. He does, however, help his father with his construction business quite often, taking care not to reveal their relation.
Appearance:
Manny is 5'9” and about 185lbs. He has a muscular build but isn't massively buff. He does like to show off his arms, so most of his wardrobe is short sleeved or sleeveless.
His ‘hero’ wear consists of a black jumpsuit (loose like clothing, not tight like a leotard) with no sleeves and a large cowl neck; a tank top under the jumpsuit (varying colors); fingerless gloves the same color as the tank top; a leather belt; black boots; and aviator goggles.
Method of Operation:
His home base is in a secret location, but he can usually be found cruising the rooftops, surveilling the city from above. He has enough cooperation with the authorities that he hasn't been arrested yet. Since he can easily take out larger groups, he usually looks out for gang activity.
Superpower:
Gravity Manipulation
Manny can alter his own gravity or the gravity of a given area, the largest being about the size of a school gymnasium. He also uses a few gravity-based attacks. Specific abilities include:
Upforce/Downforce: decrease/increase the effect of the planet's gravity in a specific area
Force Push/Pull: repel/attract objects using force (precision is somewhat limited)
Concussive Blast: emit a burst of force in single direction
Zero Point Gravity: can attract all matter within a small area to a single point in space
Personal Gravity Manipulation/Gravity Aura: can alter the effects of gravity on himself enhancing his jumping ability, allowing him to walk on walls/ceilings, and giving him levitation and gliding abilities (though he can't technically ‘fly’). He also uses this power to land harder strikes when fighting and repel things like bullets (he has to be consciously doing this; he's not bulletproof).
Manny is limited to the amount of alteration happening at one time. This includes area of effect, the strength of the alteration, and the amount of time the area is affected.
Reckless use of his power can also cause a good bit of collateral damage, so he has to be careful when affecting the gravity of something other than himself.
Skills:
Since his vigilante work involves frequent contact with bad guys, Manny has become a skilled fighter. He trains at several different gravity levels and, at times, with weighted clothing. He also has very good parkour skills. Also, thanks to his father, he knows a good bit about construction.
Equipment:
Aviator goggles - altering gravity can sometimes loosen up a lot of floating particles
Music player - never goes anywhere without his music
Bulletproof vest - for days when he's feeling particularly unlucky, but he's not always wearing one (he goes up against a lot of gangs)
Personality:
Being born a super has given Manny a thick skin when it comes to negativity. He doesn't let many things bother him and humbly recognizes his superiority over humans. He understands the human disdain for supers: some are jealous, some scared, others are just put off by the abnormal. As a matter of fact, he has a certain animosity himself for supers who misuse or abuse their powers. Jeopardizing innocent lives is wrong no matter what a person's genetic code happens to be.
Manny likes adventure and exploration, and living in Millennium City ensures he's never bored. Having powers gives him freedom from a normal human lifestyle and using those powers for good gives him a sense of purpose.
When faced with a challenge, he is confident in his abilities but still errs on the side of caution. He knows how to stay level-headed in most situations, seeing panic and doubt as surefire ways to fail.
Manny tends to keep people in the neutral zone until he sees their true nature. He prefers independence, but still cooperates with others if necessary. He likes to crack a joke or two, whether or not the humor is appreciated. Since Manny has earbuds permanently attached to his head, he tends to quote a lot of lyrics and sing/hum to himself.
Biography:
Manny grew up just outside Millennium City. His father, Richard, owns a construction company which started locally and moved into the city when business grew, and his mother, Sonya, works at the local children's hospital. His parents met in high school and married soon afterward. Sonya revealed her power to Richard a little after they got engaged which she was certain would drive him away, but he was only upset that she hadn't mentioned it sooner. This may had only been because she had a ‘good’ power, but to this day, he claims that it was because of ‘true love’. His mother has the ability to physically heal people with her singing voice.
Sonya had to pretty much beg for children, the second being an easier sell because the first didn't have powers. Richard's human genes apparently dominated in Manny’s older brother, Ellis, so Manhattan is the only child of theirs with powers. Growing up, Sonya helped Manny develop his powers while always urging him to keep it to himself. He didn't quite understand why he had to be so secretive when his mom used her powers for work, but she always told him he would get it one day.
When ‘one day’ came, Manny was in his late teens and he decided to pack up his things and move into the city. His parents reluctantly let him go, reminding him that the city was dangerous even for a super, and especially for a teenager, but they couldn't change his mind. He needed a place to freely explore his powers, and he promised to never get his family involved or even reveal his relation to them (in case he gained some enemies).
Manny took to the city pretty well and spent a lot of time exploring, but he didn't really get serious about being a vigilante until his brother was injured in a fire caused by a pyrokinetic. Ellis ended up trapped underneath some fallen rubble, and even though Manny was able to rescue him, Ellis was paralyzed from the waist down and confined to a wheelchair. At that moment, Manhattan dedicated himself fully to ridding the city of crime and finding the person responsible for his brother's injury.
Theme Song:
Weapons of Mass Distortion - The Crystal Method
Relationships:
TBD
Extra:
We...are not...normal. |
43,507 | 1,193 | 200 | 1,331 | 353 | Wraith
Wraith hadn't exactly been active in the days since their past missions. Honestly, she didn't feel as though she could be blamed for that. Contemplating morality and all that kind of stuff took a lot out of a girl. You know, that and having your nose broken. She could deal with the injury, really, but it made wearing the mask quite painful to do. And breathing. Other than that, though, it wasn't too bad. It at least gave her something to focus on other than her own problems.
The nose thing wasn't something she could really hide. It really wasn't fun to explain to her dad, who was probably the main reason she hadn't left the house. She'd ended up giving him some made-up lie about tripping over and slamming head-first into a rock. It wasn't her best lie, but luckily her father was a very trusting man, which was a polite code word for gullible idiot. She still had to admit to leaving the house, though, which meant that she'd completely ignored his attempts to ground her.
This hadn't gone down well. Apparently she was 'double grounded' whatever the hell that meant. From what she could tell, it was basically the same as being single grounded, but with a lot more shouting. And he was still buying decaf, which was basically torture. She'd actually looked up the Geneva Convention at one point, but apparently being given decaffeinated coffee didn't count as 'humiliating and degrading treatment'. Luckily, she'd thought of this, and was now stockpiling coffee underneath her bed.
That was basically how she'd spent the past few days. In her room with a flask of coffee, trying to make sense of her life, and that was exactly what she was doing when she finally got contacted by Ditch. She sprang out of bed like she'd been stung by a wasp, and grabbed her backpack, where she'd been keeping all of her vigilante equipment before rushing out of the door. Well, if rushing meant speed walking a little. She winced slightly as she put her mask in place, and set off towards Racket Avenue.
And so she'd ended up at their headquarters again, maybe ten to fifteen minutes later than she should have. Some people may have said she needed to work on being punctual. Those people did not understand the difficulty she had with remembering directions. She struggled with the things even when she wasn't busy doubting her status as a vigilante and/or mass-murdering psychopath. Some things made you forget if it was the first or the second left, okay?
Although, when she'd got there, it seemed like she wasn't late at all. Later than most of the others maybe, but not late enough for anything to have happened without her. In fact, she'd still had to wait there for about half an hour before anything happened. Anything coming in the form of Ditch holding a small child, and yelling at all of them about what was going on.
Wraith noted some of what she'd said, but was mostly concerned with the boy's condition. Not with helping him - she wasn't that much of a bleeding heart yet - but with his condition. A lot of his wounds seemed fairly fresh, which was worrying. What caused this? she wondered, as several of the group crowded around him. This was followed by a second, much more worrying thought. Or who?
For now, she walked over to Ditch. She wasn't exactly a healer, and if the kid was from this area, there was every chance he'd freak out if he saw her upon waking up. Wraith's reputation around here wasn't exactly stunning. She wasn't sure what she could do to help Ditch. There was one thing that might help, and she sighed as she opened her backpack, pulling out a flask. Still warm - these things worked well. Once she had a hold of it, she handed it to Ditch slightly awkwardly as soon as Omega was done talking.
"It's just coffee. You look frozen. Might help you warm up while you explain." she kept going back to her worries from earlier. Why was the kid in such a state? She realised that she wasn't going to be much help with the situation in here, so she decided to settle her worries a bit. She looked at the pair of supers and spoke to them, her tone having returned to the guarded one she normally used as she dumped her bag onto the ground next to them.
"Listen, I'm gonna go look around outside for a bit. I want to check that you weren't followed here is all." she said to Ditch. "You said the kid's eyes were glowing for a bit, right? Umbra's people could be anywhere, and even if they don't know who you are, they might have followed if they thought he was a super." she looked at the ground with a slightly forced smile. "You weren't exactly inconspicuous, from what I can tell. Just message me if anything happens in here."
Wraith turned to leave, but just as she was about to go, she realised something. It would be pretty suspect to any spies if they saw Wraith leaving the building that a super had just entered. Kara Banks, on the other hand, was a perfectly normal girl. She took off her mask and tossed it over next to her bag. That would at least make her less recognizable.
With that, she headed out of the door. To be honest, she'd mostly done this to sort out her own worries. She didn't really expect to see anyone except maybe a couple of random thugs. Mostly, Kara had wanted to get out of the room, with all of them being all selfless and caring and whatever. She didn't need to deal with seeing them being all morally superior again, even if she did feel a little ashamed about running away from it. Whatever. She just hated feeling like she couldn't help people - it felt like a reminder of how much of a failure she'd turned out to be. | Name: Kara Banks
Quote: “Real justice leaves nothing behind.”
Alias: Wraith
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Family: Older brother, Steven Banks Father, Carl Banks. Mother, Georgia Banks, Deceased
Occupation: Student
Appearance: Kara is shorter than average for her age, and has the lean, muscular build of a gymnast. Her facial features are slightly unremarkable, but she could be described as mildly attractive, with pale grey eyes and a light dusting of freckles across her nose. She has medium-length brownish-blonde hair, which she ties back into a ponytail whenever possible.
During her daily life, Kara almost always dresses casually in jeans, battered old sneakers and tank tops or t-shirts. She owns an embarrassing amount of hero themed t-shirts, most of them given to her by her brother every time her birthday or Christmas rolled around, or just whenever he wanted an excuse to annoy her. Secretly, she is quite fond of them, even the ones with the cheesy slogans, which could explain why she wears them so much.
When operating as ‘Wraith’, Kara wears a silver eye mask that covers the top half of her face, along with a dark grey jacket and black trousers loose enough for her to be able to move quickly. She always wears a pair of thick black gloves wrapped in barbed wire, designed to be completely waterproof due to the nature of her fighting style.
Method of Operation: Her fighting style is based on provoking her enemies into aggression, forcing them to lower their guard and leave openings for her to attack. Once her opponent is vulnerable, she can use her ability to directly attack their vital organs and end the fight before it properly begins.
If forced into a fight, she uses her ability to alter her density to be lighter than air, allowing her to take flight and making her a fast-moving, unpredictable target. When striking her opponent, she heightens the density of her fists as they hit her opponent, giving every impact much more force behind it.
Superpower: Kara can control the density of her body, allowing her to walk through walls, become lighter than air, or give her punches the force of sledgehammer blows. In combat, she uses her power to phase into opponents bodies and destroy their vital organs, or hit them with strikes that have a huge amount of power.
Her power has drawbacks, though. While increasing her density can allow her to become stronger and withstand more blows, her body can only take the strain for a limited time before she risks permanent bone or muscle damage. This also applies to reducing her density, as the strain put on her organs could lead to health problems or falling unconscious if used for long periods of time. This means she must use her power in short bursts to avoid being damaged.
Skills: Kara is a skilled actor, and does not hesitate to lie when the situation calls for it, and is able to be a very convincing diplomat. She is also a skilled gymnast, which lends her some strength and agility that she would otherwise lack and has gotten her out of a few sticky situations.
Equipment: Barbed gloves, designed to do maximum damage to internal organs. Small vial of poison that can be used on more durable enemies. Backpack to carry equipment and hide obvious evidence after fights.
Personality: To the outside world, Kara has a friendly, outgoing personality. She surrounds herself with people who are kind and caring, making friendships easily with a hug and a beaming smile. She is, for all intents and purposes, a model student, the type of person that you would expect to make it out in the world and live a happy, normal life. She seeks out others like her, who are held up on a pedestal to others and surrounds herself with them. However, if they are seen as doing wrong, or harming someone else, then they tend to disappear.
In reality, behind the façade of warmth and friendliness that she puts on, Kara has an obsession with justice, whatever the cost. No matter how small a grievance, how petty the crime, if she witnesses someone doing wrong, then she marks them in her mind and obsessively tracks them down to deal out her version of ‘justice’. Still, she seems to almost enjoy it, always thinking that she is in the right, no matter what the circumstances.
She dislikes heroes, and the way that they attempt to save the day by bringing villains to justice. As far as she is concerned, if the villain responsible lives, then justice has not been done.
Biography: As a child, Kara was always liked by those around her. She grew up in a happy family of normal people, completely unaware of her powers, and was closer to her mother than anyone else in the world. They would sing and dance in the park, go to the theatre, and she would be supportive of everything Kara did. The first time she decided to try out at the local theatre, her mother was the last person to count her out and the first person to give her a shoulder to cry on when she was rejected.
For sixteen years, she lived an ideal life. Her dad would come home, beaming after a good days work or excitedly waving a bonus and declaring that they’d be going on a holiday or buying a new car. Her brother, two years older, would smile and laugh and they’d sit and chat together, less like siblings and more like old friends. Sadly for Kara, it all came tumbling down. Her mother was murdered, with her the only witness. She was only able to survive because her powers activated, allowing the bullet fired at her to simply bounce off. Not understanding what was going on, she ran away.
After the murder, she was racked with guilt over what happened, over not being able to help. Her father and brother tried to help her, but it just didn’t seem to work. She recalled the way she had withstood the bullet, and realised that she had some kind of power. She began to train, and this was where she developed her obsession, vowing never to rest until every single person like this was brought to justice. At eighteen, two years of training later, this obsession drove her to buying a mask, and taking to the streets of the city as Wraith.
Theme Song: Amnesia- Miracle of Sound
Relationships: Not discussed
Extra: Who’s not normal? We’re not normal. |
43,508 | 1,193 | 201 | 311 | 56 | Eric was sitting on the edge of the stage, leaning next to the wall, looking at his phone. He decided to come in regular form this time, donning a half mask he bought from a toy shop a few days earlier. He looked like the phantom of the opera, but he figured why not. If he was going to hang out with the team, he's get hungry sooner or later, and you can't really eat in spectral form.
He was also trying to figure out how to keep clothes on while shifting, or at least getting back to clothes when turning back. Not that he was going to practice here, with the others around, but he was in the middle of experimenting when Ditch contacted.
He was watching the news on his phone, ears plugged in and eating chinese takeout. He actually never heard about Lava King, but he sounded like an anime character. Still, his name implies that he is no joke. Umbra got him as well... how does the media even know about heroes disappearing? Do they have to like, check in each morning and if they don't they are missing?
But then the other news followed. When he heard the Captain's name he nearly choked on his food, coughing up pasta in large chunks.
"Holy *cough* holy crap guys, did you hear about Wall Walker getting captured? Captain Po" - as he looked up, he could see that the team was hetically forming up around Ditch, who has already arrived. She was soaked to the bone, and had a young boy with her, clearly injured.
"Oh." Closing his mouth, the slowly swallowed he leftover, and took out his earphones. | Name: Eric Engelson
Quote: Well... crap.
Alias: Ecto
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Family: Fathers: Isaac Engelson, Liam Engelson (Surrogate Mother: Jane Woods)
Occupation: Online Translator
Appearance:
Eric is in the middle of his twenties, with dark hair and green eyes. He is around 5'10", and although he was considered quite lazy, a few years ago he started working out to boost his endurance, so his physique is just above average. He usually wears comfortable street clothing, jeans and cargos, T-shirts and hoodies, complete with sneakers.
He doesn't have any special costume for his "night-time" activities, as his powers give him a distinct look on their own.
Method of Operation: The cautious approach was always more appealing to him, usually scaring the criminals away. His appearance and abilities make it easy to create the impression of a ghost, and criminals are less likely to strike up a neighborhood if they think it is haunted. He also enjoys slowly building up fear in his "victims", like haunting the TV in the house burglars are about to enter, or levitating an umbrella. But if every trick fails, he does not shy away from using force and subduing his opponents, typically with either beating them with a blunt instrument or making them headbutt something with his haunting ability.
Superpower:
Spectral Form : Eric is able to turn into a gaseous, incorporeal form, which allows him to fly and move through tight spaces, like a keyhole or a chimney, though he cannot enter areas that are sealed shut completely. He can shift between this form and his human body in about a second, and when he is in this form, he cannot be touched by anything physical - as it moves right through him -, but this true the other way around as well. This does not, however, make him invulnerable. His powers seem to be somewhat related to the element of air, and and is especially susceptible to it, but other non-physical attacks can also hurt like hell.
Partial Shifting : He can manifest certain parts of his body to grab hold of objects, but the corporeal parts of him are completely defenseless, unless grabbing something that would provide protection.
Spectral Healing : While in the Spectral Form, Eric slowly heals from the wounds he suffers, although this has it's limits, and can leave scars. In any case, it stops a wound from getting worse.
Haunt : Eric can take control of objects that are not bigger than him, forcing himself into them. This allows him to move or levitate around in a rather sluggish way, but can be effective when haunting, for example, a baseball bat. Physical damage to the object also hurts Eric, so it’s not worth haunting something that can be easily broken.
Haunting can also be used to take limited control over others, as someone wrestling against the haunted person. This can be overpowered by sheer strength though, and can slow strong opponents at best.
Skills: Due to his upbringing, Eric knows multiple languages, including German, Spanish, and Russian. He also studied piloting to learn about currents and basic flight physics, since he can be affected by the wind. His fighting style is closest to the "whack it until it's down" technique, he started practicing aikido and krav maga to be more efficient.
Equipment: Since the Spectral Form does not extend to clothes or equipment, he goes to the field basically naked. It would be nice to find a way not to appear in his birthday suit when shifting back.
Personality: Eric is prone to cynic joking, and likes irony. He can be sincere and serious as well, but he finds it easier to brush things off with a stoic remark. He is disappointed in humanity, as what he often sees is that man is a wolf to man, and everything is run by corrupt bureaucrats, who are consumed by greed. He believes that although there could be so much potential in people, it is squandered by selfishness and apathy for others. He doesn't like to be in the spotlight, as he has witnessed power and popularity corrupting people. He also dislikes taking responsibility, but reluctantly does so by using his gifts to better the streets, to soothe his conscience.
He disapproves of people who are what he used to be like, and feels shameful about his past as a couch potato. He regularly does cardio exercises to build up his stamina, and trains fighting techniques on his own not only to better his performance on the field, but as a way to "atone" for his laziness. He is likely to push himself past his limits, saying something gritty or just using the words "crap" a lot. This sometimes leads to injury, but since he can heal in his spectral form, he really doesn't care.
Biography: A son of a russian economist and a german engineer who moved to the United States, Eric had ha very easy way of learning multiple languages at a young age. He was also a bit of a geek, and got bullied in school, until he befriended a schoolmate who turned out to be a super with enormous strength. His name was Damien Reed. They were both huge comic book fans, and although Damien was not allowed to use his powers in public, or reveal in in an obvious way, he told his secret to Eric, who practically worshipped him. They used to hang out a lot, playing video games and watching cartoons. Since Damien's power made him fit without breaking a sweat, he was also kinda lazy, but Eric was a normal kid and the lack of physical exercise and countless junk food made him overweight by his teenage years.
Though his parents were caring and supportive, they did not like their son getting fat on the sofa and sometimes made stinging remarks about Eric's appearance, but it was also painful when Damien was adored by all the girls, while Eric was ignored by the opposite gender. So he started working out, and Damien joined him for support (even though it was nothing to him). This would soon turn into short sessions that turned into more chilling.
Time went by, and when went to different colleges and saw each other less and less. After a year into his studies, he saw some news about a superhero on the streets, rounding up criminals and smiling for the camera in the meantime. He recognized him as his best friend. When he called him about it, he admitted with pride that he has officially started his superhero career. Eric found the news fantastic, and proposed to be Damien's sidekick, but he politely declined, reasoning that this was dangerous for "normies", especially for ones who are out of shape. This made Eric finally snap from his lazy ways and work out in earnest.
But while he was losing weight, he saw his friend gradually turn into (or maybe revealing himself to be) a conceited braggart, who loves to dominate the scene. And that was BEFORE he became a corporate tool who started working for the mayor's office as a glorified enforcer. Since he was always "busy" they slowly stopped talking.
One night Eric was going home from a jogging session, while he ran into an armed robbery: two men were robbing third who was drunk after partying. Eric decided to step in, and ended up getting stabbed. While the assailants ran away, he stumbled into a corridor and collapsed from the blood loss. When he came to himself, everything was different, and felt the pain slowly go away. When he looked down, a pool of blood stared back at him, soaking a lying figure on the ground. When he looked at himself, he was floating, all blue and transparent.
"- I'm... I'm dead? Well... Crap. God dammit."
At that moment, he fell to the cold pavement, completely naked, as his usual self. That's when he realized that the figure on the ground were only his clothes, empty of any wearers.
"- I...guess not."
Cold and confused, Eric hastily dressed up in his bloody clothes and ran home. When in his house he threw everything into the washing machine and examined his wound in the mirror. It was a nasty cut, but not as deep as a full stab should have been.
"Okay, let's try this again." He concentrated, and after a short while he turned into his ghostly form once more. He could see the wound slowly, gradually get smaller and smaller healing itself.
"Groovy." This is when his life really began.
Relationships: TBD
Extra: We're NOT normal. |
43,509 | 1,193 | 202 | 890 | 504 | Girard looked around the main room of the theater taking in the work put into it and quietly smiling as he rested up against one of the walls. He had been there for a good portion of the day already but honestly he had been in no rush to leave particularly ever since he got the text from Ditch. It had been a hard pressed time trying to contact the woman since the first missions with her making scarce as she did which left the big man with a couple of choice things to do in the mean time. Over the past couple days he had been sending a serious message to the gang in his old neighborhood as well as a few of the others nearby to make it look like he wasn't picking them out specifically. It had been quite effective in halting anymore expansion since they were so preoccupied keeping what they had. Putting the squeeze on operations had become something of a specialty and honestly he felt it was far more effective at dealing with criminals when all of them were worried not just some. The news was looking less and less promising lately though as more heroes went off the radar not to mention Wall Walker having been captured, it was getting to be more of a mess.
The big guy had been earliest to the HQ greeting people as they showed up but he wasn't any less concerned that Ditch hadn't managed to beat everyone to the building as per usual. The feeling seemed mutual around the room for the most part for any who were thinking into it but they waited regardless. Earlier Tank had gone out for food as well though he hadn't touched much of it, which was saying something considering the large bag holding burgers/sides he brought. It hadn't been all for him but he had an appetite to match his size so extras never hurt if no one else ate much either. However, he found eating difficult as he sat or moved around occasionally attempting to chat up one of the others for small talk to pass the time. It was only when the knocking started that Girard's head shot over alert at the sudden commotion and once Reaper let Ditch in he could see the woman wasn't alone. It didn't take him long to get up and move over to where the soaking wet kid was before removing his large bomber to add to the pile. It would either make a good base or one oversized blanket for someone of the boy's size but it would be warm for sure. Reaper and couple others split Ditch off trying to console her while he heard Wraith say something about sentry duty.
Honestly he wasn't sure what to do from there though he did remember someone mentioning food and drinks so he retrieved his bag and brought it over before stepping back. He would wait for further instruction because as far as the situation was concerned he was clueless. knowing fuck all about first aid or most things medical really didn't help his usefulness but if he could help in some way they just had to say the word. | Name: Girard Babcock.
Quote: Buddy I'd like to see you try.
Alias: Tank.
Age: 23.
Gender: Male
Family:
Mother-Ellen; Father-Deckard; Younger sister- May; Younger brother- Jeremiah.
Occupation: Construction and Demolition, he prefers the latter.
Girard stands at 6'8" and weighs upwards of 400lbs thanks to his power. He tends to wear whatever is comfortable normally whether
it be short sleeves and jeans or some other combo. When he becomes Tank a dark green bomber jacket, a black shirt underneath, with grey camo pants are his preference, tough/comfortable and plenty of storage, including a large military helmet with a face cover.
Method of Operation: Girard's method can be described as hit them fast and hit them hard or occasionally take everything they have on the chin and keep going. He has the patience to wait for the right time to charge in like an angry comet dispensing explosives if and when necessary. Once his controlled havoc has been unleashed he makes sure his target is down for the count before getting out.
Superpower:
Girard got the alias Tank from the supernaturally dense tissue in his body. He is easily capable of shrugging off most conventional weaponry and even plenty of non-conventional means of attack. He is also far stronger and heavier than he appears making him difficult to contend with in most situations. However, all this extra weight and size makes him quite slow most of the time and when he does get moving quickly he is very much at the mercy of his own momentum. While he might be practically invulnerable to a conventional attack, even a few powered as well, he still has a battery of things that can effect him like electricity, poison, and mental powers come to thought. His weight overpowers his strength to an extent making jumping or upwards motion far more difficult not to mention going through weak floors because of it. He tends to avoid large bodies of water really not wanting to sink like a rock before even trying to swim. Lastly, it often takes him awhile to lick his wounds if he gets particularly hurt because he has a lot more to hurt than most.
Skills: Girard knows how to take care of home life well enough, maybe not perfectly but it'll do. He has an engineering degree but enjoys getting his hands dirty working but he knows buildings well and if there were a structural weakness he would be the one to notice it. Explosives help in this endeavor and he has taken quite the shine to making his own for his escapades though he is very careful with them. He doesn't have any sort of combat training but he is a big man with more than his share of weight to throw around and he has gotten good at it.
Equipment: He brings multiple different homemade explosives and his get up but other than that he can improvise a weapon if he so needs it.
Personality: Girard tends to be a rather friendly guy mostly carefree. He will talk to anyone who will listen provided he has something to say or will listen to anyone if the subject is good. He tends to be careful and relatively peaceful but he is no gentle giant and if someone starts something it won't take him long to step in and give them what they have coming though he tends to hold back for their sake if it gets physical. He is far more concerned with other people than himself trying to help out where he can with a smile on his face mostly because he can. He is more than willing to work with other vigilantes though his forward style doesn't always mesh. He might have looked up to heroes at one point but to him its people like him and others who are willing to go further that really keep the criminals on edge.
Criminals are one of the few things that Girard detests and cleaning up the city one gang at a time is his way of dealing with it. He doesn't always expect much out of them but he fully expects them to try and surprise crime fighters so he values patience for keeping him out of trouble. For him there are no restrictions on what kind of activity to stop though some warrant less force than others which he is keenly aware of. Despite his approach to the bad element serious collateral damage is something he avoids whenever possible, no need to make it harder on the people and families who live in the city like him. He intends to protect and clean up the city to make it better for him, his family, and every good hearted person left in it.
Biography: Girard's parents met at a local diner in the city and had a few arguments before they really got talking but it was uphill from there and the two have been inseparable since. They managed to carve out a nice life by the time their first son was born and they were amazed when he was. While Girard wouldn't have fully developed powers until he was well into his teens they had an impact on his size from day one. He had a rather good life never much to complain about, his father also being quite a big guy and a short temper with troublemakers, warding off plenty of trouble with his siblings only making it better. If his parents weren't there he was looking after them and would continue to do so through his life seeing his family as the most important thing he had. His parents actually bought the diner and it did good for a while but continually less people came when some local gang members started targeting it driving people away as well as making life harder for the family. Girard now with some years under his belt found out most of them were around his age and being the guy he was intervened once roughing a couple of them up in the process to which they stopped coming for a bit but it wouldn't last.
The leader had taken particular offense to it, his cousin having taken a beating in the intervention, came back and put several shots through the diner's front hitting a couple patrons as well as his brother also grazing his sister who was nearby. It was one of the few moments Girard couldn't recall because he rushed out after them in a rage having no intention of them getting away. He probably should have know it would be a trap but there was little thought running through his mind when he walked into an opening in-between finding seven vengeful aggressors though only the leader had a gun. Girard admits he remembers very little of what happened but it ended very badly for the seven who tried with everything they had to bring him down only to find they couldn't because he was shrugging off pipes, chains, hell even the leader's pistol barely left a mark on him with repeated shots. After he reined himself in he got out of there to go and check on his family who were glad to see him alive after his pursuit. It was part of the reason he would later become Tank but for some years it calmed down.
His brother and sister recovered, his brother lost some range of motion in his left arm but he lived, but thing got back to being more normal if not more close between the family. It had occurred more than ever that Girard was something special and they told him that it was his choice how to handle his 'gift'. Of course he did his best to conceal if not so much hide it for a time not sure what to do but he would eventually seeing more and worse crimes as he got older. He couldn't let the horror that happened to his family just go on or show up else where especially not after one of his best friends nearly got mugged among other continued attempts on people he cared about or around him. Since then he has done his best to keep a good balance between being him and being Tank who is far less forgiving than him and has put more than a little fear into the cities criminal population. His efforts haven't been appreciated by all but even people who denounce the vigilantes have no bearing on him enough to make him stop. When he got the letter from Ditch he couldn't help but see the use in working together to take on someone possibly more powerful than all of them and he made his choice then.
Theme Song: Simple Man
Relationships:
Extra: We are not normal. |
43,510 | 1,193 | 203 | 469 | 141 | “It took you an hour to get him here?” Ditch swallowed, unsure of how to answer. “I..” She trailed off as Reaper’s shadow tentacles curled around her, pulling the cyber vigilante inside. The slamming of the doors made Ditch flinch, before she reluctantly placed the boy on the stage, allowing the others to swarm him.
“C'mon, let's have a seat.” She whipped around to face Omega, her movements a little bit jumpier than normal. The bags under her eyes were deep. She looked worse than the last time they’d all seen her. “Omega,” Ditch said firmly, refusing to sit. “You don’t understand, I.. I figured it out. I figured out how Umbra’s kidnapping the heroes. How.. how do you kidnap a girl with superspeed? How do you kidnap a 20 foot monster of lava rock? I did it. I figured it out. You know, you know when there’s just one pillar you have to knock out and the whole building will fall? I found the pillar. I did it. And then I swear, I was.. I sent you guys the message, and I .. I fell asleep.” Ditch had taken the coffee from Wraith but not even bothered to take a sip. “And when I woke up it was already forty five minutes late and I ran here, I didn’t want to.. To lose your trust, and then he just.. The kid just..” Ditch fell silent, eyes glazing over. She gripped the flask tightly but didn’t move.
“He talked about my dad. Talked about him like he was standing right there. Knew things he couldn’t have known about him. He’s too.. Too young to even know him at all..” Ditch shuddered.
At first glance, Wraith would find nothing of importance outside. Racket Avenue was empty, just like it always was. The rain beat down heavily, refusing to let up anytime soon. But if she walked farther ahead, leaving the auditorium in the distance, she’d find a bracelet sticking up out of the mud on the side of the street. A part of it was shining metal, glimmering in the light of the moon. Umbra’s mark was clearly engraved in it upon brushing away the dirt. Any further search would come up empty.
The child was beginning to warm under the large bundle of hoodies and jackets. Yes, Aurora’s attempt to heal him had failed, but upon closer inspection his wounds were not horribly deep. There were just a lot of them. TB was able to greatly lessen the boy’s fever with his newfound heat absorbing abilities, and he was beginning to look better already.
The boy stirred, letting out a string of incoherent words before his eyes slowly blinked open. They were an incredible shade of neon blue, glowing brightly just like Scarlet’s. He let out a sharp cry of fear upon seeing the crowd of people around him, sitting upright and scrambling back on the stage. “Please, please don’t hurt me, I swear I’ll be good after this I will, I will!” He’d raised his hands in front of himself in an effort to protect himself. The boy hadn’t even gotten a good look at the vigilantes before him, he’d just jumped immediately to a defensive stance. | DITCHLooks like you're stuck.Name:UnknownAge:UnknownGender:
UnknownFamily:In their first ever city-wide broadcast, Ditch has mentioned a father. (More to come IC.)Appearance:
No one knows Ditch's true face. If they ever broadcast their face, it's hooded with a skeleton mask. You can hardly even tell their gender, because they muffle their voice using audio software.Method of Operation:
Ditch has never been seen in the flesh. They are known to stop crimes through technology, and though it is unknown if they have superpowers, most assume. Any cyber crimes, or crimes that are committed through the use of technology, are almost always stopped by Ditch. Someone sending an email with launch codes? Never sends, deleted from the system. Bank accounts being drained by hackers? Oh, looks like your computer's fried. Every time they stop a crime, a message pops up on the closest tech item, saying, "Looks like you're stuck. -Ditch." Through doing this, the name Ditch has become very well known. Only once has Ditch broadcasted to every screen in the city, warning them of Umbra.Themesong:
Cigarette Daydreams - Cage the Elephant |
43,511 | 1,193 | 204 | 1,284 | 117 | TURN BACK
Turn Back didn't even pay attention to the conversation going on with Ditch, preoccupied as he was by the child. He was pleased to note that he could indeed lower a fever this way, however as he started preparing to check the boy's wounds the child woke up, scrambling away and crying out in fear. "No no, it's okay buddy!" Turn Back cried, pulling his bandana away from his face. This was becoming a habit now... "We're not going to hurt you okay, we're here to help!" He reached down and grabbed some things off the stage, never breaking eye contact with this unnerving boy.
Holding out a water bottle, one of Tank's burgers, and his own warm hoodie, Jason smiled at the kid. "Our friend found you out there, she brought you here to be taken care of. You're safe here, buddy. My name is Jason, would you mind if I asked for your name?" He set the offering down and pushed them towards the boy. On a whim he pulled one of the nuts out of his pocket and charged it with a tiny bit of power, his own eyes flashing purple as he did so, and the metal bursting with a small amount of fire that quickly went out. "We're all like you... We can keep you safe." | Name: Jason Grave
Quote: "Pain is temporary. Victory is eternal."
Alias: Turn Back or TB
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Family: Mother (Deceased), Father
Occupation: Office assistant
Appearance: Tall and lithe, Jason is what many would describe as lanky. He has above average strength for his size, but not of any surprising strength. His face is hard beyond his years, his brow in an almost perpetual furrow. His icy blue eyes seem to pierce into ones soul, and he keeps his black hair combed back close to his head. His left hand is a prosthetic, one of the new models that link to the users nervous system and respond in a similar manner to a real hand.
Jason wears business-type button-up shirts and nice ties for his day job, however once the sun sets it's a very different story. Jason changes from a 'mild-mannered' office person to a darkly-dressed vigilante. He wears a tight black shirt and loose-fit dark jeans. He wears a black glove on his right hand, and has steel-toed boots.
Method of Operation: Jason tends to leap into the middle of a fray, getting into fights with criminals at the drop of a hat. He often allows himself to be hit several times near the beginning of a fight, both to lull his opponents into a sense of security, and to build up his own power. Once he starts to fight back, he uses a folding staff to gather momentum, going for the head, the gut, the knees, any weak point he thinks he can exploit.
Superpower: Kinetic absorbtion and redistribution.
Jason has the ability to absorb and redirect and kinetic energy that he is aware of coming into contact with him. This manifests ina few different ways, as listed below.
Enhanced Stamina
By reabsorbing the energy expended while walking or running, Jason can go much further than the normal person without needing to stop for rest. This is not indefinite however, as some energy is lost with each step.
Limited Invulnerability
So long as Jason is aware of physical attacks made against him, he can absorb the energy of the blow without it harming him. This includes bullets.
Energy Storage/Redirection
Jason can store any kinetic energy absorbed within his body or any object he touches as excess potential energy, to be used as extra force. For example, if he is hit by someone, he can store the energy of that hit into his staff to hit them back with the strength of the staff, and the force they had originally hit him with.
Weaknesses
The energy conversion used by Jason is unstable, making any stored energy equally unstable. If he stores the energy for too long, it will begin to entropy, with explosively catastrophic results. This weakness enhances in both speed and power the more energy is absorbed. For example, the force of an apple hitting his head could lie dormant for weeks or months before detonating, but the power of a train could only be held for a few minutes. In addition to this, Jason is not immune to damage taken from unknown sources, he must be aware of an enemy in order to use his powers to defend himself.
Skills: Jason has learned how to fight, though not in any particular style. More the 'jump and run' tactics young gang members often use on the streets, with the major exception being: Jason doesn't run.
Jason has an above-average understanding of technology, and can familiarize himself with a new computer quite quickly.
Jason is a mediocre baseball player.
Equipment: Folding staff, tucked into a back pocket. Cell phone. Steel-toed boots. A handful of metal nuts
Personality: Jason is often cold upon his first meeting. He keeps very professional and businesslike, often not exchanging many words at all. Once he begins to warm up to a person however, another side of him comes out. Jason will begin smiling and joking more, enagaging in conversation and sharing stories of his life. He doesn't have many people he would consider a friend, but those he does he would give his life for.
Enemies, on the other hand, see a completely reversed Jason. They see someone who will sit and take a beating, any punishment they can dole out while laughing in their face. Criminals know fear as Turn Back begins to taunt them as he gets up and uses the force of their own blows to beat them senseless. Those who seek to do him harm see a cold, hard face with an icy stare before a booted sole darkens their vision, sometimes for the last time.
Biography: Jason was born into a poor immigrant family from Europe, who wanted nothing more than to see their boy become a famous American baseball player (Which is, of course, the American dream). His life was dominated by the sport, from playing catch with his father in the back yard using stones when they couldn't afford a new ball, to joining a local little league team as soon as he was big enough. Jason't family had always been low on money, but his mother and father managed to scrape together everything Jason needed for the team. Unfortunately, it seemed Jason was doomed to a life of mediocre sports talent. He never really shone on the field, making a few nice plays and a good hit here or there, but not reaching the standards his parents hoped he would.
Jason's life changed for the first time at the age of 12. During one of the final baseball games of the season, he stood a bit too close to the plate in an all-planned effort to hit the ball with more force. His left hand was struck by the pitch, a fastball right to his knuckles, though Jason felt no pain. He soon forgot the incident however, until a week or two later, when his hand began to ache. Not able to afford a doctor, his parents looked at it, said it seemed fine, and wrapped it with soft cloth, to try and sooth the paid. Soon after, Jason's hand exploded in a flash of purple, the decaying energy from the baseball weeks prior finally taking its toll. The family was introduced to one of the facets of the 'American Dream'; privatized healthcare. The bills from the hospitals, all the tests done, and getting even the cheapest prosthetic they could find all but bankrupted the family. Each parents was forced to take another job just to survive, and that was when Jason's life changed again.
Late one night, walking home form work in an attempt to save money on bus fare, Jason's mother was jumped by a group of muggers. Desperately trying to defend her hard-earned money, she fought back against her attackers, who decided it was easier to simply pull a knife. Jason got the news before leaving for school the next day; his mother had been killed. This sent the boy's father into a spiraling depression, he barely ate or slept, and stopped talking to anybody at all. Jason did everything he could to help, but his father was left a broken shell of a man. Soon after, Jason swore vengeance on the criminals of his city, vowing to use his newfound powers to destroy the people who had taken both his parents from him and ruined his life.
Theme Song: TBD
Relationships: TBD
Extra: We are not normal. |
43,512 | 1,193 | 205 | 468 | 617 | Listing to Ditch, Raven tilted her head in thought. Her arms crossed at the explanation. Course the woman fell asleep, she probably worked herself to it. Honestly, she was tempted to drug her if she had to. She did have some equine muscle relaxers in her pocket, and she did have a coffee right now. Soooo...
No, not the time for that, her interest captured again. Raven knelt down by the woman, nodding her thanks to Wraith as she left. "Listen, you were disorientated, you just woke up, you were trying to get here, the child was hurt. We can ask him whats going on when his body is well, but for now, clear your mind. Its not the best action to push your thoughts when your shaking like a leaf in a winter storm." She could hear teeth chattering, words were strained, trying to remember.
"Least you got him out of there. If Umbra got Lava king like I been thinking, than he wouldn't stand a chance if the child is useful to his plans. Someone's going to have to figure out if he has family."
Hearing a cry from the stage however, had caused her head to turn. The albino standing only to hear Jason handle it. Offering a wave to the trembling thing, she shook her head. "Are you aright little one? Do not worry, you have nothing to fear from us." Her voice changing pitch, she offered a smile. A calming air about her, one that had calmed down pray animals when they thought they were about to be killed. Still, she did not advance, she had a raven skull on her head after all. | Name:Aurora Lorell
Quote:"One should never fear the dark. Just enjoy the light you have left."
Alias: Raven tale
Age: 22
Gender: female
Family: Father: Rick Lorell, Mother: Sarah Lorell
Occupation: Horse trainer and olympic rider.
Aurora is seen to be a beauty. With a lean build and fair skin standing in at around 5,2. Her eyes are what really set her apart besides the snowy form. Red and clouded as though in a veil of mist she almost always keeps them closed due to being bullied as a child. Many saying they are unnerving to look at.
Method of Operation: No one knows that its truly her. Those that have gained her help have only seen the creatures that she calls forth. Usually beasts from mythology that have few features. If shes forced to be seen she stays silent, trying to keep her age and gender a secret. If anyone found out who she was, the world would find out everything about her in minutes.
Instead she uses her tour as a way to keep her location foggy. Being a world and Olympic rider, she has been to all corners of the world. Each one earning a job or two from her. Her method of transportation is a horse she had conjured herself, what she sees as the only link one could give her. Still she reminds herself that she should never get involved with things too big, but the chance to use her abilities has always been too tempting.
Superpower: Aurora has the ability to conjure beasts from stories she has read or been told. Using a leather bound journal as a catalyst to recite the right lines to call forth her companions. She found that the larger impact a story holds to her, the easier it is to call her creatures. Though strange enough she has found that it is more difficult to create that which is already in this world. Being able to make a wraith she has massive difficult in creating a bird.
Many would think this ability is limitless. Sadly Aurora must read or hear the tale in which her conjure is being made from. Even than she can't always make them unless it had a impact on her in some way. Because of this she has a habit of asking others for stories. Any kind hoping that she could advance her abilities further.
Her biggest weakness is that this only works when she has a sound mind and when the book is open. Growing up taming thousand pound animals has made her difficult to frighten. But if she falls pray to fear, the companions she had called would turn on her. If her book is closed her train of thought would break, causing the creatures to disperse and leave her side.
Skills: an amazing horse back rider, her hearing is better than most. Memory is above average. Shes been told that her voice is rather calming due to her nature. Shes also had a good chance of catching a lie so long as it's spoken.
Equipment: Book of tales. Every story is written in Braille. Because of this she keeps it hidden from view and no one has yet to look through it's pages. If someone found out what was inside than the trail would be short in finding out that Aurora is the owner.
Personality: Aurora is a seeker of knowledge. Someone who needs to know things small and large. Heavy and light. This was due to the fact that she was born blind, growing up with being sheltered and lead around she found herself growing tired of the treatment quickly. Even though she would have a pilot smile when someone offers to take her hand or tell her where something is, she would find herself loathing on the inside. Wanting to be as independent as she can be. Pushing herself to be better at what she dose to prove to those around her that she dose not need her eyes in order to live her life. She thinks that many who help her do it not for herself, but so they could feel better. Thinking that they would be a hero for a small moment, she can not stand the thought of being a tool used in someone's self need to feel important. And thus it has only added to her independence.
Yet even with the quite demands of independence, Aurora is a calming presence. Soft spoken shes not one to raise her voice. When it comes to her friends, she is usually the one to end a fight with words alone. Comforting others when they are in need not using sayings of encouragement, but sitting at their side in silence.
She had an interesting habit though. When in good company she tends to speak in riddles, thinking that it's due to the stories she obsesses over, she tries her best to keep it under wraps. Even so, those who she calls friends will tell her she slipped back into her odd way of speaking.
Her greatest fear is being in absolute silence, she also tends to tap her finger on her cane. Sound is her greatest asset and without it she turns into a shell of her usual self. Fumbling over words and sometimes not able to use her powers safely.
Biography: Aurora was born into the business of horses. Her father a trick rider and her mother a cross country racer, the two were a power house in the horse world. Before she was even born they were getting her ready with what style and what horse she would ride, only for their dreams to be crushed when they saw her for the first time. A tiny albino who's retinas never even developed leaving her blind.
yet that did not stop the girl from living up to her family's potential. She became connected with the animals that her family made a living from. Every fall she went through, she would stand from, no injury would ever scare her away. The feeling of power a horse would give was too great to leave. Where in any other situation she would be led around and treated like a child. In the arena she was expected to handle things herself and for once she herself could be the leader. At age six she was competing in not only trick riding, but cross country and dressage.
Having a love for the stories that her mother would read her. Aurora began to print Braille in her own journal, often reading them out loud to her horse. After all, he was the only one that could deal with a 13 year old speaking for hours at a time. Sleeping in the stalls with her books clutched in hand the journal only grew thicker, and heavier. Till eventually the words she recited caused the animal to spook. Thrashing in the box and causing her to scramble out, screams of rage and fear ringing through the stable.
Before she knew it her parents were at her side, asking her what was wrong yet whatever had caused the damage was gone. Again and again it had happened, each time with her reading. Its taken her two full months to find out that the cause of her horse’s spooking was the conjuration of creatures from her own words.
Her own abilities.
Another idea that she could gain independence she began to work. Conducting experiments to figure out the rights and wrongs of her abilities. Its taken her years to find things out on her own. By the time she was 17 she was a competitor in the Olympics. Finally a chance where she was away from those who thought she needed them. All she needed was her book and her cane. Once walking through the stable halls at night. Checking her companion to make sure their first run in the Olympics would be fine. Yet as she opened the door she found something was wrong.
Her stallion named Beauty in a Shadow, was gone.
Her first thought was to contact the security to find him. Fear gripping her mind she could still remember the sweat that ran down her palms as she gripped her cane. Yet when she clicked it on the stone ground she made up her mind. Her book in hand she ran her finger across the pages. "With eyes made for night, and fire as fierce as a devil's light. He tracked down hunters of his land. And made them swear he could never stand." The sound of light feet pattering next to her she found a smile on her lips when the sound of a ragged fox was found at her side. To her eyes there was blank. Yet to anyone who saw it was a fox with two tails, told in Japanese lore to be the devil in a different skin, with eyes of lit green and a scroll strapped to it's back. "Find Beauty." It was all she said, and it was all she needed to. That night she took matters into her own hands as the fox lead her through the halls. Away from the stable and out to the parking lot to hear the half drugged screams of her stallion.
That night something snapped, she no longer used her abilities to gain a smile as she called forth a crimson wraith from the tale "a wife in the bog." The gut wrenching shrieks and screams rang true to her ears. the creature she chosen playing on their fear, having them see a different story as it led them away, leaving her stallion.
she never been so frightened for her horse in her life. Ever since she vowed to make sure that nothing like that would happen to another creature. To another ride, another person, so long as she could help it. She knew it was not just for others though, she never felt so needed until that moment. Like she could actually do something outside her own family. That she could accomplish something on her own. Its difficult for her still, not even her parents know about her second hobby. Her father even looks at those with powers in fear.
At age 18 she ended up moving out. She couldn't risk her family finding out that she was Raven's Tale. Shes done everything to keep that name down. To keep herself hidden so that they would never find out it was her. What if she gained a enemy? What if someone wanted her hurt and they found out that the one they were after was just a blind woman who lived alone?
She was living a dangerous game. And yet, even still as she told herself over and over again that she was playing with fire. She could not stop. The sense of power too intoxicating, the thankful words too well received. She still competes in competitions, but Aurora still finds herself with a smile on her lips whenever she would hear that someone was saved by a strange beast.
She just hopes that the day when she finds herself in deep water would come later. Much, much later.
"We are not normal."
friesian stallion who she named Loki as a barn name he was registered as Beauty in Shadow. He's the only living creature who knows Aurora has abilities. |
43,513 | 1,193 | 206 | 195 | 102 | It looked as though Omega’s attempts to calm Ditch had fallen short. Seeing her up close like this, he noticed how awful she looked and it only increased his concern. When Wraith walked over to offer Ditch a flask of coffee, he noticed a change in her demeanor. She no longer oozed arrogance, but instead was pretty even-keel, maybe even a bit somber. He inwardly wondered if she was alright, but set it aside in his mind to deal with the issues at hand. As she left to check for potential threats, Ditch contiued her spiel. She had a real knack for leaving Omega puzzled whenever she spoke.
“Ok...so you've found out why supers are disappearing....and then this battered kid shows up talking about your father? Didn't you say he was dead?”
Omega furled his brow and shook his head.
“I'm not sure which one I wanna hear first…”
A sudden scuffling caught his attention and he turned his focus to the stage. The child had woken up and scurried away from the others. He looked scared, though who could blame him? He was surrounded by strange people in masks and such. His eyes definitely glowed like Ditch mentioned earlier, so by default they all already had that in common with the kid.
Just a few moments ago, he was this pitful little thing, and now he's on his feet without even being halfway recovered. Tough kid.
“Well, Ditch, it looks like we're all gonna get some answers. Just gotta get you both to chill.”
Omega followed TB’s lead and removed his goggles, placing them in his pocket, and he flashed his best kid-friendly smile, speaking after Raven.
“Yeah, little dude. We're the good guys. Just take it easy, alright? We're gonna help you get better,” Manny said with a gentle nod. “My name's Manny.” | Name: Manhattan McClain
Quote: “And who’s gonna stop me? …You?”
Alias: Omega
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Family: Mother - Sonya (super); Father - Richard, older brother - Ellis (non-super)
Occupation:
Coming from a family who manages their finances pretty well, Manny makes his money work for him, giving him time to train most days. He does, however, help his father with his construction business quite often, taking care not to reveal their relation.
Appearance:
Manny is 5'9” and about 185lbs. He has a muscular build but isn't massively buff. He does like to show off his arms, so most of his wardrobe is short sleeved or sleeveless.
His ‘hero’ wear consists of a black jumpsuit (loose like clothing, not tight like a leotard) with no sleeves and a large cowl neck; a tank top under the jumpsuit (varying colors); fingerless gloves the same color as the tank top; a leather belt; black boots; and aviator goggles.
Method of Operation:
His home base is in a secret location, but he can usually be found cruising the rooftops, surveilling the city from above. He has enough cooperation with the authorities that he hasn't been arrested yet. Since he can easily take out larger groups, he usually looks out for gang activity.
Superpower:
Gravity Manipulation
Manny can alter his own gravity or the gravity of a given area, the largest being about the size of a school gymnasium. He also uses a few gravity-based attacks. Specific abilities include:
Upforce/Downforce: decrease/increase the effect of the planet's gravity in a specific area
Force Push/Pull: repel/attract objects using force (precision is somewhat limited)
Concussive Blast: emit a burst of force in single direction
Zero Point Gravity: can attract all matter within a small area to a single point in space
Personal Gravity Manipulation/Gravity Aura: can alter the effects of gravity on himself enhancing his jumping ability, allowing him to walk on walls/ceilings, and giving him levitation and gliding abilities (though he can't technically ‘fly’). He also uses this power to land harder strikes when fighting and repel things like bullets (he has to be consciously doing this; he's not bulletproof).
Manny is limited to the amount of alteration happening at one time. This includes area of effect, the strength of the alteration, and the amount of time the area is affected.
Reckless use of his power can also cause a good bit of collateral damage, so he has to be careful when affecting the gravity of something other than himself.
Skills:
Since his vigilante work involves frequent contact with bad guys, Manny has become a skilled fighter. He trains at several different gravity levels and, at times, with weighted clothing. He also has very good parkour skills. Also, thanks to his father, he knows a good bit about construction.
Equipment:
Aviator goggles - altering gravity can sometimes loosen up a lot of floating particles
Music player - never goes anywhere without his music
Bulletproof vest - for days when he's feeling particularly unlucky, but he's not always wearing one (he goes up against a lot of gangs)
Personality:
Being born a super has given Manny a thick skin when it comes to negativity. He doesn't let many things bother him and humbly recognizes his superiority over humans. He understands the human disdain for supers: some are jealous, some scared, others are just put off by the abnormal. As a matter of fact, he has a certain animosity himself for supers who misuse or abuse their powers. Jeopardizing innocent lives is wrong no matter what a person's genetic code happens to be.
Manny likes adventure and exploration, and living in Millennium City ensures he's never bored. Having powers gives him freedom from a normal human lifestyle and using those powers for good gives him a sense of purpose.
When faced with a challenge, he is confident in his abilities but still errs on the side of caution. He knows how to stay level-headed in most situations, seeing panic and doubt as surefire ways to fail.
Manny tends to keep people in the neutral zone until he sees their true nature. He prefers independence, but still cooperates with others if necessary. He likes to crack a joke or two, whether or not the humor is appreciated. Since Manny has earbuds permanently attached to his head, he tends to quote a lot of lyrics and sing/hum to himself.
Biography:
Manny grew up just outside Millennium City. His father, Richard, owns a construction company which started locally and moved into the city when business grew, and his mother, Sonya, works at the local children's hospital. His parents met in high school and married soon afterward. Sonya revealed her power to Richard a little after they got engaged which she was certain would drive him away, but he was only upset that she hadn't mentioned it sooner. This may had only been because she had a ‘good’ power, but to this day, he claims that it was because of ‘true love’. His mother has the ability to physically heal people with her singing voice.
Sonya had to pretty much beg for children, the second being an easier sell because the first didn't have powers. Richard's human genes apparently dominated in Manny’s older brother, Ellis, so Manhattan is the only child of theirs with powers. Growing up, Sonya helped Manny develop his powers while always urging him to keep it to himself. He didn't quite understand why he had to be so secretive when his mom used her powers for work, but she always told him he would get it one day.
When ‘one day’ came, Manny was in his late teens and he decided to pack up his things and move into the city. His parents reluctantly let him go, reminding him that the city was dangerous even for a super, and especially for a teenager, but they couldn't change his mind. He needed a place to freely explore his powers, and he promised to never get his family involved or even reveal his relation to them (in case he gained some enemies).
Manny took to the city pretty well and spent a lot of time exploring, but he didn't really get serious about being a vigilante until his brother was injured in a fire caused by a pyrokinetic. Ellis ended up trapped underneath some fallen rubble, and even though Manny was able to rescue him, Ellis was paralyzed from the waist down and confined to a wheelchair. At that moment, Manhattan dedicated himself fully to ridding the city of crime and finding the person responsible for his brother's injury.
Theme Song:
Weapons of Mass Distortion - The Crystal Method
Relationships:
TBD
Extra:
We...are not...normal. |
43,514 | 1,193 | 207 | 311 | 56 | “Please, please don’t hurt me, I swear I’ll be good after this I will, I will!” The boy scrambled back on the stage, in the verge of panic, and jumped up, ready to defend himself.
Eric was just a few feet right behind him, holding his breath as to not make a sound. It seems the kid didn't notice him, and does not realize that he is sitting there.
What should I do? If he sees me, he might freak out and do something extreme. Not good. What if he tries to turn my head into jelly? If I turn to spectral form to avoid that, he could take it as an attack, also not a good idea. Last time I intervenes, it didn't turn out so well.
He froze like a sitting statue, chopstick and food box still in his hands, only following the events with his eyes. TB, Raven and Omega tried to approach calm him, slowly approaching, as to a frightened deer. It was all so intense, but strangely comical for him.
“My name's Manny.”
Manny? As in... Emmanuel? Oh my good this is too good. Suddenly, a picture of a moustached Omega flashed before his eyes, Omega the latin lover, with spanish guitar playing in the background.
No, not now, idiot! Eric clenched his teeth, struggling not to chuckle. | Name: Eric Engelson
Quote: Well... crap.
Alias: Ecto
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Family: Fathers: Isaac Engelson, Liam Engelson (Surrogate Mother: Jane Woods)
Occupation: Online Translator
Appearance:
Eric is in the middle of his twenties, with dark hair and green eyes. He is around 5'10", and although he was considered quite lazy, a few years ago he started working out to boost his endurance, so his physique is just above average. He usually wears comfortable street clothing, jeans and cargos, T-shirts and hoodies, complete with sneakers.
He doesn't have any special costume for his "night-time" activities, as his powers give him a distinct look on their own.
Method of Operation: The cautious approach was always more appealing to him, usually scaring the criminals away. His appearance and abilities make it easy to create the impression of a ghost, and criminals are less likely to strike up a neighborhood if they think it is haunted. He also enjoys slowly building up fear in his "victims", like haunting the TV in the house burglars are about to enter, or levitating an umbrella. But if every trick fails, he does not shy away from using force and subduing his opponents, typically with either beating them with a blunt instrument or making them headbutt something with his haunting ability.
Superpower:
Spectral Form : Eric is able to turn into a gaseous, incorporeal form, which allows him to fly and move through tight spaces, like a keyhole or a chimney, though he cannot enter areas that are sealed shut completely. He can shift between this form and his human body in about a second, and when he is in this form, he cannot be touched by anything physical - as it moves right through him -, but this true the other way around as well. This does not, however, make him invulnerable. His powers seem to be somewhat related to the element of air, and and is especially susceptible to it, but other non-physical attacks can also hurt like hell.
Partial Shifting : He can manifest certain parts of his body to grab hold of objects, but the corporeal parts of him are completely defenseless, unless grabbing something that would provide protection.
Spectral Healing : While in the Spectral Form, Eric slowly heals from the wounds he suffers, although this has it's limits, and can leave scars. In any case, it stops a wound from getting worse.
Haunt : Eric can take control of objects that are not bigger than him, forcing himself into them. This allows him to move or levitate around in a rather sluggish way, but can be effective when haunting, for example, a baseball bat. Physical damage to the object also hurts Eric, so it’s not worth haunting something that can be easily broken.
Haunting can also be used to take limited control over others, as someone wrestling against the haunted person. This can be overpowered by sheer strength though, and can slow strong opponents at best.
Skills: Due to his upbringing, Eric knows multiple languages, including German, Spanish, and Russian. He also studied piloting to learn about currents and basic flight physics, since he can be affected by the wind. His fighting style is closest to the "whack it until it's down" technique, he started practicing aikido and krav maga to be more efficient.
Equipment: Since the Spectral Form does not extend to clothes or equipment, he goes to the field basically naked. It would be nice to find a way not to appear in his birthday suit when shifting back.
Personality: Eric is prone to cynic joking, and likes irony. He can be sincere and serious as well, but he finds it easier to brush things off with a stoic remark. He is disappointed in humanity, as what he often sees is that man is a wolf to man, and everything is run by corrupt bureaucrats, who are consumed by greed. He believes that although there could be so much potential in people, it is squandered by selfishness and apathy for others. He doesn't like to be in the spotlight, as he has witnessed power and popularity corrupting people. He also dislikes taking responsibility, but reluctantly does so by using his gifts to better the streets, to soothe his conscience.
He disapproves of people who are what he used to be like, and feels shameful about his past as a couch potato. He regularly does cardio exercises to build up his stamina, and trains fighting techniques on his own not only to better his performance on the field, but as a way to "atone" for his laziness. He is likely to push himself past his limits, saying something gritty or just using the words "crap" a lot. This sometimes leads to injury, but since he can heal in his spectral form, he really doesn't care.
Biography: A son of a russian economist and a german engineer who moved to the United States, Eric had ha very easy way of learning multiple languages at a young age. He was also a bit of a geek, and got bullied in school, until he befriended a schoolmate who turned out to be a super with enormous strength. His name was Damien Reed. They were both huge comic book fans, and although Damien was not allowed to use his powers in public, or reveal in in an obvious way, he told his secret to Eric, who practically worshipped him. They used to hang out a lot, playing video games and watching cartoons. Since Damien's power made him fit without breaking a sweat, he was also kinda lazy, but Eric was a normal kid and the lack of physical exercise and countless junk food made him overweight by his teenage years.
Though his parents were caring and supportive, they did not like their son getting fat on the sofa and sometimes made stinging remarks about Eric's appearance, but it was also painful when Damien was adored by all the girls, while Eric was ignored by the opposite gender. So he started working out, and Damien joined him for support (even though it was nothing to him). This would soon turn into short sessions that turned into more chilling.
Time went by, and when went to different colleges and saw each other less and less. After a year into his studies, he saw some news about a superhero on the streets, rounding up criminals and smiling for the camera in the meantime. He recognized him as his best friend. When he called him about it, he admitted with pride that he has officially started his superhero career. Eric found the news fantastic, and proposed to be Damien's sidekick, but he politely declined, reasoning that this was dangerous for "normies", especially for ones who are out of shape. This made Eric finally snap from his lazy ways and work out in earnest.
But while he was losing weight, he saw his friend gradually turn into (or maybe revealing himself to be) a conceited braggart, who loves to dominate the scene. And that was BEFORE he became a corporate tool who started working for the mayor's office as a glorified enforcer. Since he was always "busy" they slowly stopped talking.
One night Eric was going home from a jogging session, while he ran into an armed robbery: two men were robbing third who was drunk after partying. Eric decided to step in, and ended up getting stabbed. While the assailants ran away, he stumbled into a corridor and collapsed from the blood loss. When he came to himself, everything was different, and felt the pain slowly go away. When he looked down, a pool of blood stared back at him, soaking a lying figure on the ground. When he looked at himself, he was floating, all blue and transparent.
"- I'm... I'm dead? Well... Crap. God dammit."
At that moment, he fell to the cold pavement, completely naked, as his usual self. That's when he realized that the figure on the ground were only his clothes, empty of any wearers.
"- I...guess not."
Cold and confused, Eric hastily dressed up in his bloody clothes and ran home. When in his house he threw everything into the washing machine and examined his wound in the mirror. It was a nasty cut, but not as deep as a full stab should have been.
"Okay, let's try this again." He concentrated, and after a short while he turned into his ghostly form once more. He could see the wound slowly, gradually get smaller and smaller healing itself.
"Groovy." This is when his life really began.
Relationships: TBD
Extra: We're NOT normal. |
43,515 | 1,193 | 208 | 1,331 | 353 | Wraith
Kara had forgotten how much of a mess Racket Avenue was for a minute. She was quickly being reminded of this, as she jumped over her fourth pile of trash on her way down the street. She was trying her best to look lost and unsure of herself. If, worst case scenario, she ran into one of Umbra's people, hopefully she'd be able to convince them she was just a girl who'd gotten lost and wandered into the wrong part of town.
Of course, the further she got down the alley, the less that seemed like an issue. There didn't seem to be any sign of life near the headquarters, so she'd headed down the alley a bit. She looked down the alley, and for a second, thought she saw some movement in the shadows.
Without thinking, she ran towards it, preparing herself for a confrontation. She grinned slightly to herself. "I've got you now, you-" her words were cut off when she realised it was just a rat. She'd been about to use her powers to try and fight a rat. Suddenly, she was glad that there was no-one else helping her, as she watched it scurry away down the alley. In the corner of her eye, she noticed something shiny sitting in the mud.
Strange... She was sure that that thing hadn't been there earlier. She kneeled down, trying her best to ignore the stench of the trash around her, and picked up the object. A bracelet? It was pretty muddy, so she wiped it on her jacket to get the worst of it off. When she looked at it again, she couldn't stop the look of recognition and shock that crossed her face. That's Umbra's mark. Good thing she'd chased that rat after all.
If this had been left here, and she wasn't being attacked by who ever had left it, then chances were they'd gone. If it was a trap, they would have taken her out when her back was turned. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she pocketed the bracelet and ran quickly back to the others, making sure to shut the door behind her as she entered. She looked over at the stage, where most of them were. Looked like the kid had woken up.
She headed over to the group by the stage, clearing her throat. "Sorry to interrupt your little bonding exercise, but I think we might have a problem." she raised the bracelet, deciding to explain in case any of them didn't turn around. "Umbra's mark. Found it at the end of the alley. There's every chance that Ditch's little rescue mission didn't go unnoticed." Okay, so maybe she sounded a little hostile about it there. She wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea that Umbra knew about them. Besides, best to keep at least some part of her confident persona from earlier.
It was only when she was done speaking that she remembered she'd taken off her mask. Whoops. It wouldn't matter too much - not like any of them knew her anyway - but she could do without them realising how young she actually was. Too late to do anything about it now, though. | Name: Kara Banks
Quote: “Real justice leaves nothing behind.”
Alias: Wraith
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Family: Older brother, Steven Banks Father, Carl Banks. Mother, Georgia Banks, Deceased
Occupation: Student
Appearance: Kara is shorter than average for her age, and has the lean, muscular build of a gymnast. Her facial features are slightly unremarkable, but she could be described as mildly attractive, with pale grey eyes and a light dusting of freckles across her nose. She has medium-length brownish-blonde hair, which she ties back into a ponytail whenever possible.
During her daily life, Kara almost always dresses casually in jeans, battered old sneakers and tank tops or t-shirts. She owns an embarrassing amount of hero themed t-shirts, most of them given to her by her brother every time her birthday or Christmas rolled around, or just whenever he wanted an excuse to annoy her. Secretly, she is quite fond of them, even the ones with the cheesy slogans, which could explain why she wears them so much.
When operating as ‘Wraith’, Kara wears a silver eye mask that covers the top half of her face, along with a dark grey jacket and black trousers loose enough for her to be able to move quickly. She always wears a pair of thick black gloves wrapped in barbed wire, designed to be completely waterproof due to the nature of her fighting style.
Method of Operation: Her fighting style is based on provoking her enemies into aggression, forcing them to lower their guard and leave openings for her to attack. Once her opponent is vulnerable, she can use her ability to directly attack their vital organs and end the fight before it properly begins.
If forced into a fight, she uses her ability to alter her density to be lighter than air, allowing her to take flight and making her a fast-moving, unpredictable target. When striking her opponent, she heightens the density of her fists as they hit her opponent, giving every impact much more force behind it.
Superpower: Kara can control the density of her body, allowing her to walk through walls, become lighter than air, or give her punches the force of sledgehammer blows. In combat, she uses her power to phase into opponents bodies and destroy their vital organs, or hit them with strikes that have a huge amount of power.
Her power has drawbacks, though. While increasing her density can allow her to become stronger and withstand more blows, her body can only take the strain for a limited time before she risks permanent bone or muscle damage. This also applies to reducing her density, as the strain put on her organs could lead to health problems or falling unconscious if used for long periods of time. This means she must use her power in short bursts to avoid being damaged.
Skills: Kara is a skilled actor, and does not hesitate to lie when the situation calls for it, and is able to be a very convincing diplomat. She is also a skilled gymnast, which lends her some strength and agility that she would otherwise lack and has gotten her out of a few sticky situations.
Equipment: Barbed gloves, designed to do maximum damage to internal organs. Small vial of poison that can be used on more durable enemies. Backpack to carry equipment and hide obvious evidence after fights.
Personality: To the outside world, Kara has a friendly, outgoing personality. She surrounds herself with people who are kind and caring, making friendships easily with a hug and a beaming smile. She is, for all intents and purposes, a model student, the type of person that you would expect to make it out in the world and live a happy, normal life. She seeks out others like her, who are held up on a pedestal to others and surrounds herself with them. However, if they are seen as doing wrong, or harming someone else, then they tend to disappear.
In reality, behind the façade of warmth and friendliness that she puts on, Kara has an obsession with justice, whatever the cost. No matter how small a grievance, how petty the crime, if she witnesses someone doing wrong, then she marks them in her mind and obsessively tracks them down to deal out her version of ‘justice’. Still, she seems to almost enjoy it, always thinking that she is in the right, no matter what the circumstances.
She dislikes heroes, and the way that they attempt to save the day by bringing villains to justice. As far as she is concerned, if the villain responsible lives, then justice has not been done.
Biography: As a child, Kara was always liked by those around her. She grew up in a happy family of normal people, completely unaware of her powers, and was closer to her mother than anyone else in the world. They would sing and dance in the park, go to the theatre, and she would be supportive of everything Kara did. The first time she decided to try out at the local theatre, her mother was the last person to count her out and the first person to give her a shoulder to cry on when she was rejected.
For sixteen years, she lived an ideal life. Her dad would come home, beaming after a good days work or excitedly waving a bonus and declaring that they’d be going on a holiday or buying a new car. Her brother, two years older, would smile and laugh and they’d sit and chat together, less like siblings and more like old friends. Sadly for Kara, it all came tumbling down. Her mother was murdered, with her the only witness. She was only able to survive because her powers activated, allowing the bullet fired at her to simply bounce off. Not understanding what was going on, she ran away.
After the murder, she was racked with guilt over what happened, over not being able to help. Her father and brother tried to help her, but it just didn’t seem to work. She recalled the way she had withstood the bullet, and realised that she had some kind of power. She began to train, and this was where she developed her obsession, vowing never to rest until every single person like this was brought to justice. At eighteen, two years of training later, this obsession drove her to buying a mask, and taking to the streets of the city as Wraith.
Theme Song: Amnesia- Miracle of Sound
Relationships: Not discussed
Extra: Who’s not normal? We’re not normal. |
43,516 | 1,193 | 209 | 890 | 504 | “Please, please don’t hurt me, I swear I’ll be good after this I will, I will!”
With that Girard couldn't help but feel even worse for the kid who had seemed to recover quick between the combined efforts of the team who were focused on it. Now he was scared out of his mind probably after waking up surrounded by them not to mention whatever put him into the physical state he was in to begin with. The big man wanted to know who was willing to do this to a kid because he had some very choices thoughts lined up for how to deal with them if or when he found out. It just wasn't something he could let go easily even if he had practically no information to go off of there would be an effort to look into this. For now though getting the little buddy back to health was the more important of the two and both Turn Back as well as Omega seemed to be on the right track for trying to calm him down. Raven Tale also contributing though the mask maybe was a little off putting but he couldn't fault her for giving a hand.
As for him he was in an awkward spot given his intimidating stature though it would have been worse if he actually had his helmet on. sure the thing had a moveable face piece but he liked to get the thing off more often than not if it wasn't necessary since it was far easier to get back on than to take it off. For now he would stay his distance to let the others handle the little guy for the time being until he was more settled down. When Wraith came back in her approach to getting the group's attention was maybe a little rough considering the situation but it got the job done he supposed. Tank also realized how young she was compared to the rest of them but he wouldn't bring it up out of respect for the other vigilante, not now at least. However, knowing the Umbra or anyone on his payroll could know the location of the HQ concerned the shit out of him because it wasn't like they were in fighting order at the moment. Let alone if the hammer got brought down on them there probably wouldn't be a huge chance of the fighting it off. he shook the negative thoughts away and focused on the present hoping that maybe Ditch even in her current state could make heads or tails out of the bracelet. | Name: Girard Babcock.
Quote: Buddy I'd like to see you try.
Alias: Tank.
Age: 23.
Gender: Male
Family:
Mother-Ellen; Father-Deckard; Younger sister- May; Younger brother- Jeremiah.
Occupation: Construction and Demolition, he prefers the latter.
Girard stands at 6'8" and weighs upwards of 400lbs thanks to his power. He tends to wear whatever is comfortable normally whether
it be short sleeves and jeans or some other combo. When he becomes Tank a dark green bomber jacket, a black shirt underneath, with grey camo pants are his preference, tough/comfortable and plenty of storage, including a large military helmet with a face cover.
Method of Operation: Girard's method can be described as hit them fast and hit them hard or occasionally take everything they have on the chin and keep going. He has the patience to wait for the right time to charge in like an angry comet dispensing explosives if and when necessary. Once his controlled havoc has been unleashed he makes sure his target is down for the count before getting out.
Superpower:
Girard got the alias Tank from the supernaturally dense tissue in his body. He is easily capable of shrugging off most conventional weaponry and even plenty of non-conventional means of attack. He is also far stronger and heavier than he appears making him difficult to contend with in most situations. However, all this extra weight and size makes him quite slow most of the time and when he does get moving quickly he is very much at the mercy of his own momentum. While he might be practically invulnerable to a conventional attack, even a few powered as well, he still has a battery of things that can effect him like electricity, poison, and mental powers come to thought. His weight overpowers his strength to an extent making jumping or upwards motion far more difficult not to mention going through weak floors because of it. He tends to avoid large bodies of water really not wanting to sink like a rock before even trying to swim. Lastly, it often takes him awhile to lick his wounds if he gets particularly hurt because he has a lot more to hurt than most.
Skills: Girard knows how to take care of home life well enough, maybe not perfectly but it'll do. He has an engineering degree but enjoys getting his hands dirty working but he knows buildings well and if there were a structural weakness he would be the one to notice it. Explosives help in this endeavor and he has taken quite the shine to making his own for his escapades though he is very careful with them. He doesn't have any sort of combat training but he is a big man with more than his share of weight to throw around and he has gotten good at it.
Equipment: He brings multiple different homemade explosives and his get up but other than that he can improvise a weapon if he so needs it.
Personality: Girard tends to be a rather friendly guy mostly carefree. He will talk to anyone who will listen provided he has something to say or will listen to anyone if the subject is good. He tends to be careful and relatively peaceful but he is no gentle giant and if someone starts something it won't take him long to step in and give them what they have coming though he tends to hold back for their sake if it gets physical. He is far more concerned with other people than himself trying to help out where he can with a smile on his face mostly because he can. He is more than willing to work with other vigilantes though his forward style doesn't always mesh. He might have looked up to heroes at one point but to him its people like him and others who are willing to go further that really keep the criminals on edge.
Criminals are one of the few things that Girard detests and cleaning up the city one gang at a time is his way of dealing with it. He doesn't always expect much out of them but he fully expects them to try and surprise crime fighters so he values patience for keeping him out of trouble. For him there are no restrictions on what kind of activity to stop though some warrant less force than others which he is keenly aware of. Despite his approach to the bad element serious collateral damage is something he avoids whenever possible, no need to make it harder on the people and families who live in the city like him. He intends to protect and clean up the city to make it better for him, his family, and every good hearted person left in it.
Biography: Girard's parents met at a local diner in the city and had a few arguments before they really got talking but it was uphill from there and the two have been inseparable since. They managed to carve out a nice life by the time their first son was born and they were amazed when he was. While Girard wouldn't have fully developed powers until he was well into his teens they had an impact on his size from day one. He had a rather good life never much to complain about, his father also being quite a big guy and a short temper with troublemakers, warding off plenty of trouble with his siblings only making it better. If his parents weren't there he was looking after them and would continue to do so through his life seeing his family as the most important thing he had. His parents actually bought the diner and it did good for a while but continually less people came when some local gang members started targeting it driving people away as well as making life harder for the family. Girard now with some years under his belt found out most of them were around his age and being the guy he was intervened once roughing a couple of them up in the process to which they stopped coming for a bit but it wouldn't last.
The leader had taken particular offense to it, his cousin having taken a beating in the intervention, came back and put several shots through the diner's front hitting a couple patrons as well as his brother also grazing his sister who was nearby. It was one of the few moments Girard couldn't recall because he rushed out after them in a rage having no intention of them getting away. He probably should have know it would be a trap but there was little thought running through his mind when he walked into an opening in-between finding seven vengeful aggressors though only the leader had a gun. Girard admits he remembers very little of what happened but it ended very badly for the seven who tried with everything they had to bring him down only to find they couldn't because he was shrugging off pipes, chains, hell even the leader's pistol barely left a mark on him with repeated shots. After he reined himself in he got out of there to go and check on his family who were glad to see him alive after his pursuit. It was part of the reason he would later become Tank but for some years it calmed down.
His brother and sister recovered, his brother lost some range of motion in his left arm but he lived, but thing got back to being more normal if not more close between the family. It had occurred more than ever that Girard was something special and they told him that it was his choice how to handle his 'gift'. Of course he did his best to conceal if not so much hide it for a time not sure what to do but he would eventually seeing more and worse crimes as he got older. He couldn't let the horror that happened to his family just go on or show up else where especially not after one of his best friends nearly got mugged among other continued attempts on people he cared about or around him. Since then he has done his best to keep a good balance between being him and being Tank who is far less forgiving than him and has put more than a little fear into the cities criminal population. His efforts haven't been appreciated by all but even people who denounce the vigilantes have no bearing on him enough to make him stop. When he got the letter from Ditch he couldn't help but see the use in working together to take on someone possibly more powerful than all of them and he made his choice then.
Theme Song: Simple Man
Relationships:
Extra: We are not normal. |
43,517 | 1,193 | 210 | 314 | 285 | Thin, pale fingers stilled on the glowing screen from the harsh swipes of her gloved hand as Reaper’s search for Dr. Stagelson’s emergency number came to an abrupt pause. The slight noise of the boy’s incoherent, feverish words caused the vigilante to lift her gaze to look to the small child in front of her, one hand leaving the phone to reach out for him. When his eyes snapped open she paused, hand halfway out stretched only to jump when he scrambled back as though she were an actual reaper. That was wrong though – he hadn’t even looked. Not at any of them. The fearful reaction was ingrained, a reaction as natural as his eyes weren’t.
A boiling shot of anger flooded Reaper’s chest and the moving shadow around her feet bristled akin to a threatened animal. Against her will, without thinking, the shadow at her feet began to stretch up and around her frozen legs and the front of the stage, sliding over the top as a shadow began to reach out from it towards the boy, reaching for distressed child like her own hand, left hanging in the air. As soon as her eyes caught it Reaper’s eyes widened amidst her mask, and she abruptly stepped back as though physically yanking the shadows back to her, hand falling limply at her side. They retreated back to her shadow, which continued to wisp and curl angrily up to her knees. A few more steps back put distance between them before Reaper tore her gaze away. As much as she desired to help the obviously hurting boy - it was evident even in the way her powers reacted - she wasn’t exactly the mothering type.
‘Breathe.’
Closing her eyes and inhaling deeply through her nose Reaper then slowly exhaled, and when she opened her eyes the black of her pupils had begun to seemingly leak outward like a spiraling spiderweb, flooding the steel-blue and whites of her eyes until only black remained. Her now dark gaze swept along the wall of the auditorium to settle on the returning Wraith and take in her words that held little comfort. Eyeing the bracelet for a moment Reaper glanced away only to turn her attention outward, brows furrowing under her mask as she sought to find any beacons detached from the writhing mass of the city, directly around them in the city block. It was only their own.
“There’s no one else around, at least not that I can sense,” The redhead finally muttered gruffly, her fingers finding their way upward to rub at the back of her neck in agitation. “I think we’re alright for now, but they might’ve been followed before … whoever that belonged to split off.” Reaper's teeth grit beneath the mask as she glanced over her shoulder, watching the others. Turn Back and Omega seemed to be attempting to handle it. Giving them space was best. The boy probably felt cornered between all of them, not to mention Ecto behind him. Reaper raised her brow as he gaze caught sight of the 'ghost' before tearing her gaze away and taking a few more steps towards the entrance. There was little use hovering.
"If I'm right though, this place might have been compromised." | Name
Zoey KasimirQuote
--Alias
ReaperAge
23Gender
FemaleFamily
Father . Mother, passed. Distant family otherwise.Occupation
University student.Appearance
Standing at 6’1’’ Zoey is a rather tall woman, but thankfully isn’t so thin as to appear sickly due to her active lifestyle, leaving a fair amount of muscle packed onto her body. Her red hair is such a light shade that it almost appears to be orange, the strands falling straight down to her mid back, though more often than not she has bangs falling into her face. Said face has rather elegant, if harsh looking features made up of sharp, hard lines with high cheekbones and brows near constantly furrowed above her grey-blue eyes. Sadly this all adds up to Zoey having a natural ‘resting bitch face’, often appearing to be judging everything about you with a single glance.
Due to her upbringing nothing she wears makes her more approachable either, her casual wear often consisting of slacks and button up shirts or high brand sleeveless tops, and sunglasses she probably spent too much on. Zoey probably doesn’t even own a pair of jeans.
Well… except one pair. Reaper’s vigilante costume is made purely to be as non-conspicuous as possible, made up of simple loose jeans, gloves, and an oversized hoodie, all in black to match the theme of course. The only thing that really makes it stand out at all in a crowd is that if anyone glanced beneath the hood Reaper is always wearing a full head balaclava, the only openings being two eye holes – though even then her eyes are constantly blacked over anyway. No skin is on show, and due to the size of the hoodie it helps hide her gender as well.Method of Operation
Zoey is a vicious thing, and an equally dirty fighter. Since she’s often in mid to close combat she doesn’t hesitate to use cheap tricks to seal a victory, and often relies on surprise and brute strength to end a confrontation before it can truly begin. Due to the latter she isn’t highly known, though there are definitely enough whispers in the streets to gain attention. Thankfully no one seems to realize she’s a woman yet, between trying not to talk in costume and often slouching to further hide her features, which additionally puts less emphasis on her height.
Though, if it’s ever publicly found out that Reaper is a female she has so many cheesy lines ready to go.Personality
Zoey is rather bitter and sarcastic, despite trying to appear more elegant than she is. Even with her efforts to be aloof and untouchable she can be quick to fluster or anger if the right buttons are pressed, and will lash out. She’s pessimistic, and at times with her biting attitude can be a bit of a bully. Truth be told it’s rather accidental though, as Zoey is too preoccupied with her own problems to care about harassing others. She’s taken to finding distractions as well and can easily focus on something completely off topic, such as thinking ‘what would I say to this mugger if I did wear a spandex superhero costume?’ while completely jumping him.
Also, since she’s had everything provided for her Zoey is a bit loose with money. She knows every dollar counts, but what’s a bit here and there?Superpower
Zoey is for all intents and purposes a darkness elemental. The main part of being this elemental is that she can sense the same darkness in others; however no one is pure sunshine and rainbows so it acts more like a sixth sense of ‘beacons’ to people, excluding young children. In large cities it’s like being surrounded by a sea of these beacons all melding together into a gelatinous blob, only the particularly large ones such as murderers standing out in any capacity, and with concentration she can ‘separate’ those beacons approximately a block around her to pick out locations in the overall mass.
Were it only this Zoey might have her hands full with vigilante work, but thankfully that rather useless if constant part of her abilities isn’t what makes her a threat. Zoey’s specialization is the ability to solidify shadows to create things as needed, her ‘signature’ being claws made of darkness – stronger than her grip and farther than her reach. However she can also form them into other things, such as barriers that would be too weak to do more than slow a bullet but would solidly stop a body if she’s fast enough. Her father as another example could use a shadow as thin as a needle to perform minute details his hands were too large for. In terms of shadows Zoey can also perform a ‘shadowstep’ of short distances by stepping into or forming a large enough shadow to disappear into them to another. Obviously this power set is most useful at night when there’s less light sending her power source scurrying, but its’ not impossible to use them in the sunshine and light – just weaker. Even her own shadow can be used to an extent.
The last useful piece of her powers is that when concentrating, particularly in the heat of battle, Zoey feels no pain – which isn’t always a good thing as she’s as delicate as a normal human. Only her own logic at seeing her wounds would let her know when the time to retreat is, and leaves her paranoid of her back in particular.
Visually, as an elemental darkness tends to react around her. Sometimes her shadow tends to ‘wisp’ little tendrils of smoky black up and curl around her legs when she’s idle, or her eyes can be darkened to hide their color.Skills
Zoey learned sambo martial arts when she was younger, though never really put it to any real world use until recently. She does however keep quite fit, frequenting gyms or jogging through the streets. Aside from that due to hunting trips she’s quite patient when it comes to waiting for ‘prey’, and knows some trapping techniques as well as how to handle a rifle.
Zoey also has the fantastic ability to laugh at her own jokes and not feel self-conscious about it.Equipment
Mace – Yep, a bottle of ordinary mace. Zoey tends to forget about it since she’s so reliant upon her powers however.
First Aid Kit, including a mirror! – Because Zoey can’t feel pain until a scuffle is already over she always comes prepared in case she misses any deeper wounds, hiding a small first aid kit within the confines of her hoodie. It comes with a small make-up mirror stashed inside to check the extent of damage to her back when necessary. It’s better than wondering later on ‘why does my shoulder blade feel like dust?’Biography
As the first and only child to the Kasimir family Zoey was the pride of her parents’ life, and with their social status never had to want for anything. While both her parents came from upper class families their fortune truly came from her father, a talented surgeon who was rather highly sought after. He had a near hundred percent survivability on his performances, even the more dangerous ones, due to the least kept secret in his medical ward – Dr. Kasimir wasn’t a normal human.
It was within days after her birth that it became apparent Zoey took after her father, and in more than just his sharp features. He was of course overjoyed and Zoey started learning even before she could walk to use her powers, identical to his. Her mother was often playfully exasperated with her father, but for years they were a happy family unit. It was only when Zoey started school did she start to realize her life wasn’t perfect. She was six when the exasperation was no longer playful, and the affectionate whispers her parents shared with upturned lips turned to harsh accusations and clenched teeth. Though they held on as long as they could to their marriage, at least for the sake of their daughter, the escalating disgust was coming to its very inevitable conclusion.
Yet it never came to that, but Zoey feverently wished that it did.
It was around when the ‘divorce’ word was finally being vocalized that the route was violently derailed. An accident happened – Zoey’s mother had been out shopping when, out on the streets, she kneeled down to pick something up and lost her balance, falling in the path of an incoming vehicle. She didn’t even make it to her husband’s operating table. While Dr. Kasimir was briefly looked at due to their known impending divorce, it was obvious he wasn’t a part of it – the accident was even caught on surveillance camera.
Following her mother’s subsequent funeral Zoey withdrew into herself, much to her father’s concern. It’s what prompted him to dismiss a good portion of their staff and quit his job to fall back on their savings to spend more time at home with his little joy, his work no longer centerfold to his day. He taught her more about her powers over the years, immersed himself even in her school and taught her all about how important image was. When she was older they began having annual hunting trips where Zoey was taught how to track, to trap and most importantly just get to spend some time with her only parent. The hunting was scary at first, but as a darkness elemental as well her father had a distinctive beacon to her, which only became more pronounced after her mother’s death.
When it came time for her to start high school Dr. Kasimir finally returned to being a surgeon, though he signed Zoey up for sambo martial arts as well. His worry knew no bounds, he wanted his little girl to be able to take care of herself. He even got her to carry mace – something she let him know she found useless. They had powers, Dad. But he insisted, and she relented. Yet as his hours at work once more grew and Zoey grew more confident in her prowess is when the ideas started. Vigilantism. What better way to also use her abilities for good, like the man she looked up to? Her grades were decent, but definitely not enough to follow in his footsteps and be a surgeon or anything. It was a whimsical and surprisingly optimistic thought, and before long Zoey found herself sneaking out and beginning to foil purse snatchers and muggings in the underbelly of their city. Well, what few there were anyway – Zoey lived in a good neighbourhood in a good city. She found herself getting more and more into it despite a lack of activity, soon looking through back logs of crimes by sneaking into the local sleepy precinct via her shadowstep and going through cold cases.
It was going through these that she came across the box – Kasimir, A.. Her mother. Figuring at first someone filed it wrong it still sent an ache through Zoey, and it was morbid curiosity that had her slowly taking the box and opening it. It was there, scrawled in the pages of an old notebook that Zoey found out why this box was in cold cases. Turns out it was a misfile due to some loose notes scrawled at the top, yet one in particular stuck out to her.
‘On video victim appears to have been yanked forward’.
It was such a small thing. Obviously it went no where, there was no one around to yank her forward – it was even on video so the half-hearted scribble was discarded. On video. A video sitting in the box, dusty and unseen for years. Something Zoey never wanted to see in her life if she could help it. And one, stupid, mistaken note had her taking it out to see for herself.
As soon as the video started Zoey knew it was a bad idea, but like a train wreck couldn’t tear her eyes away. When her mother kneeled on the sidewalk to pick up her dropped wallet Zoey knew exactly what was coming and finally averted her gaze from watching her mother’s expression on the grainy video as she pitched forward. That’s how Zoey saw it.
Rewind. Watch. Rewind. Watch. Zoom in – the grain stayed but so did the darkening pixels around her mother’s wrist in the old surveillance video. As Zoey’s mother grabbed onto the wallet that had fallen just off the sidewalk something barely seen wrapped around her wrist, and from the motion of her body pulled her forward. It was such a tiny detail, it was no wonder no one picked up on it – most would probably even dismiss it as bad picture quality. It was impossible for anyone to have pulled her forward after all.
Anyone except someone who had the ability to solidify shadows.
Denial set in quickly, and as quick as Zoey could shove everything back together and back in place she was out of the precinct – and out of the city. The constant shadow stepping had her exhausted but she ended up in the grounds her father took her to every year. Hours after the sun went down he found her, and despite all the denial, the rationalization, as soon as Zoey saw him it came pouring out. A slew of vile words, accusations, he lied to her, but most of all one burning question.
“Why?! What was the point?! What – did you want to bang another woman? She was your wife! Was it money? She was going to divorce your crazy ass and take half of your precious fortune-“
“She was going to take you away from me.”
No denial. No softening. Just a simple fact that took the wind from Zoey’s sails and left her gaping at him. What do you even say to that? What can you say to that? There wasn’t a happy ending to this tale. He had asked her what he could do to fix this, to make her happy – and she told him nothing would make this okay. So Dr. Kasimir did the last thing he could, and gave his daughter justice. The next morning he had turned himself in, admitting to what and how he murdered his wife. There was only one thing he was adamant about – he was the only one in the family with these abilities.
Unable to stay in her family home with all the bittersweet and corrupted memories Zoey found herself applying for university across the country and subsequently moving on getting acceptance. As the new head of the Kasimir family it was easy after all. For a few years she kept her head down, didn’t show her powers and almost grew to resent them. More than that she grew to resent this damn, corrupted city with its rampant crime and she grew to resent the rush she got the first time she stepped in to help someone again.
It’s what Zoey always wanted, after all.
Nearing the end of her degree Zoey is finally back into vigilantism. She couldn’t stay away from it in this city. Here though there’s no precinct trawls needed, as Reaper finds crime whenever they go looking. Subtlety is needed, of course – who else in this world is a known darkness elemental? Confidentiality is key.
Which is why Zoey finds herself considering outright bolting from the city as her mouse hovered over the delete button of her email, looking at this message from the infamous Ditch. Why risk her identity? Why risk anything when it’d be so easy to pick up and leave?
Well, maybe it was time to redeem the darkened path.Theme Song
Money - Mystery SkullsRelationships
None currently.Extra
We’re not normal, that’s for sure. |
43,518 | 1,193 | 211 | 469 | 141 | Ditch had whipped around hearing the boy's cry, but had not made any move as the others instantly ripped off their masks and bandannas, trying to gain his trust. Ditch stood frozen, tired eyes locked on the boy but making no move. Wraith entered, and raised the bracelet. Ditch's eyes widened, jaw dropping. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, fucking shit, oh fuck, oh no.." Ditch grabbed the bracelet right out of Wraith's hands and closely inspecting it.
The boy lowered his hands from over his head, now actually getting a good look at the rag-tag group of vigilantes. He looked no less terrified, but now at least attempting to understand them. He stared at the items Jason presented him with, too afraid to even take them from him. When the energy absorbing vigilante charged the various nuts with power, causing them to burst with fire, he let out another screech of fear. It seemed that all their attempts only furthered his state of panic.
He was breathing and panting heavily, trying to calm himself down, when he glanced behind him and saw Ecto. Another startled cry as he took a few steps back, but now it felt like he was being cornered. And then Reaper's shadow hand reached out. If the boy had been terrified before, his eyes were now alive with fear as it reached towards him, crying and screaming, tears streaming down his face as he ran into Ecto and held tightly onto the man's shirt, sobbing so hard it hurt to look at him, and trembling visibly as well.
Ditch's attention on the bracelet fell away and she rushed towards the stage, pushing past TB and Manny, jumping right up next to Ecto and the child. Ditch gazed at Ecto, before touching the boy's backside gingerly. "Hey.. I swear we're not gonna hurt you, okay?" She said gently. He continued to cry into the ghost vigilante, though slightly less. He broke away from Ecto, head turning slightly to look at Ditch with red, puffy eyes, and his gaze fell on the bracelet in her hand.
He instantly stopped crying, tears still sliding down his face, looking aghast. "Please, please don't put the bracelet on me, please, please I'll do anything, anything you want, I'll talk to the ghost again, I'll do it, please, please.. please.." He begged, voice empty. Ditch, looked at the bracelet, and back at the boy. "No.. no, we're not going to.. no." The bracelet fell from her fingertips, and she raised her foot, crushing it beneath her boot. The boy looked at Ditch in awe.
"You're safe here. Just like they said." She promised. "Okay? You don't have to be afraid of them -- I know the masks look scary.. but they're good people. All of them. We were trying to help you." She hoped she was close to at least calming him down, and that was when he shook his head. "I need to go, you can't.. he'll come, and he'll hurt me, and he'll hurt you." Ditch blinked, kneeling down to be eye-level with him. "Tell me who, and we'll make sure he never touches you again. I swear." He shook his head again. "We only want to help you, that's all we want. I promise you, whoever did this, you'll never see them again." She meant it, and he had to see it in her eyes.
"Umbra." He whispered. | DITCHLooks like you're stuck.Name:UnknownAge:UnknownGender:
UnknownFamily:In their first ever city-wide broadcast, Ditch has mentioned a father. (More to come IC.)Appearance:
No one knows Ditch's true face. If they ever broadcast their face, it's hooded with a skeleton mask. You can hardly even tell their gender, because they muffle their voice using audio software.Method of Operation:
Ditch has never been seen in the flesh. They are known to stop crimes through technology, and though it is unknown if they have superpowers, most assume. Any cyber crimes, or crimes that are committed through the use of technology, are almost always stopped by Ditch. Someone sending an email with launch codes? Never sends, deleted from the system. Bank accounts being drained by hackers? Oh, looks like your computer's fried. Every time they stop a crime, a message pops up on the closest tech item, saying, "Looks like you're stuck. -Ditch." Through doing this, the name Ditch has become very well known. Only once has Ditch broadcasted to every screen in the city, warning them of Umbra.Themesong:
Cigarette Daydreams - Cage the Elephant |
43,519 | 1,193 | 212 | 311 | 56 | When Wraith suddenly came back to the warehouse, she was holdin something in her hand. But more interestingly, she wasn't wearing her mask. Wow, she's... pretty. Ecto was looking at her, dumbfounded, then Ditch started cursing and swearing at the sight of the thing in Wraiths hand. Looks like one of those lame power bracelets.
Then he heard a scared gasp. Looking up, his gaze interlocked with the young boy's.
"Ummm... Hi."
He took a few steps back in panic, only to brush off against black, shadowy tentacles, slowly reaching out towards the frightened kid. That must have been too much for him. He ran into Eric's arms and broke down, trembling as he cried.
Eric sat there, puzzled and slightly uncomfortable, not sure what to do. He awkwardly patted the boy on his back.
"There, there..." Poor kid. He must have been through some ban stuff.
Eric looked at Ditch for some backup, and she was thinking the same thing.
"Hey.. I swear we're not gonna hurt you, okay?" She took it over from here, trying to comfort him. Hm... maybe it's easier for her 'cause she's a girl, the guys aren't always a soothing sight. He glanced at Omega, Tank and TB. Wait, does that mean I look feminine? WHAT.
"...I promise you, whoever did this, you'll never see them again."
"Umbra."
Well, that might be a problem. | Name: Eric Engelson
Quote: Well... crap.
Alias: Ecto
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Family: Fathers: Isaac Engelson, Liam Engelson (Surrogate Mother: Jane Woods)
Occupation: Online Translator
Appearance:
Eric is in the middle of his twenties, with dark hair and green eyes. He is around 5'10", and although he was considered quite lazy, a few years ago he started working out to boost his endurance, so his physique is just above average. He usually wears comfortable street clothing, jeans and cargos, T-shirts and hoodies, complete with sneakers.
He doesn't have any special costume for his "night-time" activities, as his powers give him a distinct look on their own.
Method of Operation: The cautious approach was always more appealing to him, usually scaring the criminals away. His appearance and abilities make it easy to create the impression of a ghost, and criminals are less likely to strike up a neighborhood if they think it is haunted. He also enjoys slowly building up fear in his "victims", like haunting the TV in the house burglars are about to enter, or levitating an umbrella. But if every trick fails, he does not shy away from using force and subduing his opponents, typically with either beating them with a blunt instrument or making them headbutt something with his haunting ability.
Superpower:
Spectral Form : Eric is able to turn into a gaseous, incorporeal form, which allows him to fly and move through tight spaces, like a keyhole or a chimney, though he cannot enter areas that are sealed shut completely. He can shift between this form and his human body in about a second, and when he is in this form, he cannot be touched by anything physical - as it moves right through him -, but this true the other way around as well. This does not, however, make him invulnerable. His powers seem to be somewhat related to the element of air, and and is especially susceptible to it, but other non-physical attacks can also hurt like hell.
Partial Shifting : He can manifest certain parts of his body to grab hold of objects, but the corporeal parts of him are completely defenseless, unless grabbing something that would provide protection.
Spectral Healing : While in the Spectral Form, Eric slowly heals from the wounds he suffers, although this has it's limits, and can leave scars. In any case, it stops a wound from getting worse.
Haunt : Eric can take control of objects that are not bigger than him, forcing himself into them. This allows him to move or levitate around in a rather sluggish way, but can be effective when haunting, for example, a baseball bat. Physical damage to the object also hurts Eric, so it’s not worth haunting something that can be easily broken.
Haunting can also be used to take limited control over others, as someone wrestling against the haunted person. This can be overpowered by sheer strength though, and can slow strong opponents at best.
Skills: Due to his upbringing, Eric knows multiple languages, including German, Spanish, and Russian. He also studied piloting to learn about currents and basic flight physics, since he can be affected by the wind. His fighting style is closest to the "whack it until it's down" technique, he started practicing aikido and krav maga to be more efficient.
Equipment: Since the Spectral Form does not extend to clothes or equipment, he goes to the field basically naked. It would be nice to find a way not to appear in his birthday suit when shifting back.
Personality: Eric is prone to cynic joking, and likes irony. He can be sincere and serious as well, but he finds it easier to brush things off with a stoic remark. He is disappointed in humanity, as what he often sees is that man is a wolf to man, and everything is run by corrupt bureaucrats, who are consumed by greed. He believes that although there could be so much potential in people, it is squandered by selfishness and apathy for others. He doesn't like to be in the spotlight, as he has witnessed power and popularity corrupting people. He also dislikes taking responsibility, but reluctantly does so by using his gifts to better the streets, to soothe his conscience.
He disapproves of people who are what he used to be like, and feels shameful about his past as a couch potato. He regularly does cardio exercises to build up his stamina, and trains fighting techniques on his own not only to better his performance on the field, but as a way to "atone" for his laziness. He is likely to push himself past his limits, saying something gritty or just using the words "crap" a lot. This sometimes leads to injury, but since he can heal in his spectral form, he really doesn't care.
Biography: A son of a russian economist and a german engineer who moved to the United States, Eric had ha very easy way of learning multiple languages at a young age. He was also a bit of a geek, and got bullied in school, until he befriended a schoolmate who turned out to be a super with enormous strength. His name was Damien Reed. They were both huge comic book fans, and although Damien was not allowed to use his powers in public, or reveal in in an obvious way, he told his secret to Eric, who practically worshipped him. They used to hang out a lot, playing video games and watching cartoons. Since Damien's power made him fit without breaking a sweat, he was also kinda lazy, but Eric was a normal kid and the lack of physical exercise and countless junk food made him overweight by his teenage years.
Though his parents were caring and supportive, they did not like their son getting fat on the sofa and sometimes made stinging remarks about Eric's appearance, but it was also painful when Damien was adored by all the girls, while Eric was ignored by the opposite gender. So he started working out, and Damien joined him for support (even though it was nothing to him). This would soon turn into short sessions that turned into more chilling.
Time went by, and when went to different colleges and saw each other less and less. After a year into his studies, he saw some news about a superhero on the streets, rounding up criminals and smiling for the camera in the meantime. He recognized him as his best friend. When he called him about it, he admitted with pride that he has officially started his superhero career. Eric found the news fantastic, and proposed to be Damien's sidekick, but he politely declined, reasoning that this was dangerous for "normies", especially for ones who are out of shape. This made Eric finally snap from his lazy ways and work out in earnest.
But while he was losing weight, he saw his friend gradually turn into (or maybe revealing himself to be) a conceited braggart, who loves to dominate the scene. And that was BEFORE he became a corporate tool who started working for the mayor's office as a glorified enforcer. Since he was always "busy" they slowly stopped talking.
One night Eric was going home from a jogging session, while he ran into an armed robbery: two men were robbing third who was drunk after partying. Eric decided to step in, and ended up getting stabbed. While the assailants ran away, he stumbled into a corridor and collapsed from the blood loss. When he came to himself, everything was different, and felt the pain slowly go away. When he looked down, a pool of blood stared back at him, soaking a lying figure on the ground. When he looked at himself, he was floating, all blue and transparent.
"- I'm... I'm dead? Well... Crap. God dammit."
At that moment, he fell to the cold pavement, completely naked, as his usual self. That's when he realized that the figure on the ground were only his clothes, empty of any wearers.
"- I...guess not."
Cold and confused, Eric hastily dressed up in his bloody clothes and ran home. When in his house he threw everything into the washing machine and examined his wound in the mirror. It was a nasty cut, but not as deep as a full stab should have been.
"Okay, let's try this again." He concentrated, and after a short while he turned into his ghostly form once more. He could see the wound slowly, gradually get smaller and smaller healing itself.
"Groovy." This is when his life really began.
Relationships: TBD
Extra: We're NOT normal. |
43,520 | 1,193 | 213 | 195 | 102 | The boy was responding just very slightly to the attempts at calming him. He was still absolutely terrified, but could sense that he wasn't necessarily in danger. Manny had dealt with a few traumatized kids at the hospital, and he knew that this boy's whole worldview was warped. If they were gonna get anything from him, they would have to use a good bit of finesse...
...And just like that, they're chances took a nosedive. For some reason, Reaper had lashed out at the boy as he scrambled away and scared the daylights out of him. Manny wasn't sure why she'd done that after being the first to start helping the kid, but it made him a bit weary if the shadow manipulator. The kid immediately dove into Ecto’s shirt, and went into an all-out panic. Yep, we're screwed. And if that wasn't enough, Wraith had returned with some sort of bracelet.
"Umbra's mark. Found it at the end of the alley. There's every chance that Ditch's little rescue mission didn't go unnoticed."
Manny turned his head in Wraith’s direction wearing more of a surprised look than he may have intended. He saw how frantic Ditch had gotten over the news, and he was most certainly in the same boat. When she pushed passed him to get to the boy, he thought that there might still be a bit of hope when the kid stopped crying so hard. But his reaction to the Umbra bracelet had completely changed the game.
"Please, please don't put the bracelet on me, please, please I'll do anything, anything you want, I'll talk to the ghost again, I'll do it, please, please.. please.."
He had that bracelet on him? I'm not sure what it does, but if it has to do with Umbra, it's obviously not good. And what was that bit about talking to ghosts? Is that his power? We have got to calm this kid down so we can get some answers.
Ditch then proceeded to crush the bracelet underfoot, hoping that would gain a bit more trust from the boy, but he still didn't fold. Instead, he started to warn them about some potential threat.
"I need to go, you can't.. he'll come, and he'll hurt me, and he'll hurt you...Umbra."
Of course...of all the things to be dealing with right now, Umbra himself isn't exactly at the top of my list. If this kid had been attacked by Umbra, how did he escape? Is this a setup? Did the boy get dumped just so he'd be found? Is our secret hideout really a secret?
Manny made his best attempt to wash away the bewilderment that had taken over his mind, and return to his comforting manner. First order of business was to win the boy's trust. He slowly approached Ditch and the kid, and lowered himself to their level.
“She's right, kid. We may have gotten off to bad start here, but you gotta trust us. Umbra or no Umbra we're gonna protect you, ok? You really are with the good guys.”
Manny motioned to the crushed bracelet and gave the boy a reassuring nod. | Name: Manhattan McClain
Quote: “And who’s gonna stop me? …You?”
Alias: Omega
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Family: Mother - Sonya (super); Father - Richard, older brother - Ellis (non-super)
Occupation:
Coming from a family who manages their finances pretty well, Manny makes his money work for him, giving him time to train most days. He does, however, help his father with his construction business quite often, taking care not to reveal their relation.
Appearance:
Manny is 5'9” and about 185lbs. He has a muscular build but isn't massively buff. He does like to show off his arms, so most of his wardrobe is short sleeved or sleeveless.
His ‘hero’ wear consists of a black jumpsuit (loose like clothing, not tight like a leotard) with no sleeves and a large cowl neck; a tank top under the jumpsuit (varying colors); fingerless gloves the same color as the tank top; a leather belt; black boots; and aviator goggles.
Method of Operation:
His home base is in a secret location, but he can usually be found cruising the rooftops, surveilling the city from above. He has enough cooperation with the authorities that he hasn't been arrested yet. Since he can easily take out larger groups, he usually looks out for gang activity.
Superpower:
Gravity Manipulation
Manny can alter his own gravity or the gravity of a given area, the largest being about the size of a school gymnasium. He also uses a few gravity-based attacks. Specific abilities include:
Upforce/Downforce: decrease/increase the effect of the planet's gravity in a specific area
Force Push/Pull: repel/attract objects using force (precision is somewhat limited)
Concussive Blast: emit a burst of force in single direction
Zero Point Gravity: can attract all matter within a small area to a single point in space
Personal Gravity Manipulation/Gravity Aura: can alter the effects of gravity on himself enhancing his jumping ability, allowing him to walk on walls/ceilings, and giving him levitation and gliding abilities (though he can't technically ‘fly’). He also uses this power to land harder strikes when fighting and repel things like bullets (he has to be consciously doing this; he's not bulletproof).
Manny is limited to the amount of alteration happening at one time. This includes area of effect, the strength of the alteration, and the amount of time the area is affected.
Reckless use of his power can also cause a good bit of collateral damage, so he has to be careful when affecting the gravity of something other than himself.
Skills:
Since his vigilante work involves frequent contact with bad guys, Manny has become a skilled fighter. He trains at several different gravity levels and, at times, with weighted clothing. He also has very good parkour skills. Also, thanks to his father, he knows a good bit about construction.
Equipment:
Aviator goggles - altering gravity can sometimes loosen up a lot of floating particles
Music player - never goes anywhere without his music
Bulletproof vest - for days when he's feeling particularly unlucky, but he's not always wearing one (he goes up against a lot of gangs)
Personality:
Being born a super has given Manny a thick skin when it comes to negativity. He doesn't let many things bother him and humbly recognizes his superiority over humans. He understands the human disdain for supers: some are jealous, some scared, others are just put off by the abnormal. As a matter of fact, he has a certain animosity himself for supers who misuse or abuse their powers. Jeopardizing innocent lives is wrong no matter what a person's genetic code happens to be.
Manny likes adventure and exploration, and living in Millennium City ensures he's never bored. Having powers gives him freedom from a normal human lifestyle and using those powers for good gives him a sense of purpose.
When faced with a challenge, he is confident in his abilities but still errs on the side of caution. He knows how to stay level-headed in most situations, seeing panic and doubt as surefire ways to fail.
Manny tends to keep people in the neutral zone until he sees their true nature. He prefers independence, but still cooperates with others if necessary. He likes to crack a joke or two, whether or not the humor is appreciated. Since Manny has earbuds permanently attached to his head, he tends to quote a lot of lyrics and sing/hum to himself.
Biography:
Manny grew up just outside Millennium City. His father, Richard, owns a construction company which started locally and moved into the city when business grew, and his mother, Sonya, works at the local children's hospital. His parents met in high school and married soon afterward. Sonya revealed her power to Richard a little after they got engaged which she was certain would drive him away, but he was only upset that she hadn't mentioned it sooner. This may had only been because she had a ‘good’ power, but to this day, he claims that it was because of ‘true love’. His mother has the ability to physically heal people with her singing voice.
Sonya had to pretty much beg for children, the second being an easier sell because the first didn't have powers. Richard's human genes apparently dominated in Manny’s older brother, Ellis, so Manhattan is the only child of theirs with powers. Growing up, Sonya helped Manny develop his powers while always urging him to keep it to himself. He didn't quite understand why he had to be so secretive when his mom used her powers for work, but she always told him he would get it one day.
When ‘one day’ came, Manny was in his late teens and he decided to pack up his things and move into the city. His parents reluctantly let him go, reminding him that the city was dangerous even for a super, and especially for a teenager, but they couldn't change his mind. He needed a place to freely explore his powers, and he promised to never get his family involved or even reveal his relation to them (in case he gained some enemies).
Manny took to the city pretty well and spent a lot of time exploring, but he didn't really get serious about being a vigilante until his brother was injured in a fire caused by a pyrokinetic. Ellis ended up trapped underneath some fallen rubble, and even though Manny was able to rescue him, Ellis was paralyzed from the waist down and confined to a wheelchair. At that moment, Manhattan dedicated himself fully to ridding the city of crime and finding the person responsible for his brother's injury.
Theme Song:
Weapons of Mass Distortion - The Crystal Method
Relationships:
TBD
Extra:
We...are not...normal. |
43,521 | 1,193 | 214 | 1,284 | 117 | TURN BACK
Jason paused at the completely adverse reaction from the child, mentally cursing Reaper. He may not have had full control of his powers, and his display may have scared the boy, but his powers at least weren't reminiscent of the person Jason suspected had tortured the child. His suspicions were confirmed a moment later as Ditch ran up and began comforting the child, crushing the bracelet beneath her boot. Jason studied the fragments for a moment, perking up when he heard the word "Umbra ."
Jason stepped forward again, kneeling down and shifting the food and drink to his left arm, where his hoodie already was. Now at the boy's level, Jason put on a comforting smile and reached out slowly, offering the boy his real hand. "Omega's right. You're safe with us. And you're very brave if you dealt with Umbra, little man." He said quietly. "And now you've found us. We can help you. We've fought his people before, and we've saved people from him. We can keep you safe."
The boy stared at Jason's outstretched hand, swallowing as one more tear rolled down his already wet cheek. "You .. you saved someone from him?" He choked out, sniffing and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Jason nodded, keeping what he hoped was comforting eye contact with the boy. "A lady named Scarlett. She was being chased by his people. She was hurt. We saved her, and she's getting better now. And a man called Wall Walker. We warned him they were after him, and he got away from them." Jason stopped his story before the mention that Walker was later captured by MCPD. "We helped them. And we'll help you. Food and water, shelter and warmth. And we'll keep you safe."
The boy sniffed again, blue eyes staring into Jason's. "And you're gonna... you're gonna help me too?" His lip curled. "I don't want to go back, don't make me go back." He looked down at the floor, sniveling. Jason nodded again, setting his hand gently on the boy's shoulder. "We're going to help you. You'll be safe. He's not going to get you, you don't have to go back." Jason's mind ran through the possibilities, where they could put the boy, where he would be safe. Emma, he thought, could care for him. He didn't want to bring her into this, but she could deal with people better than himself, and loved kids. Nobody would think to look for him there either. "Can you tell us your name, little man?"
He flinched as Jason laid a hand on his shoulder, but not making many move to run away, though he did seem antsy. His gaze traveled past Jason, looking behind him. "..your mom says she misses you." He mumbled. Jason's breath hitched in his throat as he pulled his hand away from the boy. Of anything he had expected, that wasn't even on the list. "My... What? What did you say?" His voice began to waver as he felt a lump rise in his throat, the mention of his mother had taken him off guard.
"..your mom." His gaze fell on Ditch. "And your dad. They won't.. leave me alone 'till I tell you." He rubbed his eyes. "Why do you all have so many ghosts?" "I..." Jason was at a loss for words as he looked around the base for any signs of a trick. With all that had happened, the crazy things they had seen, this shouldn't shock him... But it did. "I'm sorry buddy... We didn't know we had... Ghosts. Thank you though, for sharing that message." He set down the hoodie and food in front of the child and turned to Ditch. "I need to go for a second. I'll be back."
Ditch swallowed, watching Jason freeze up. She looked like she wanted to stop him, but only nodded meekly in response when he said he needed a second. "Yeah.. don't.." She croaked, looking down. "Don't go too long."
"I swear, I'll be just a minute." Jason muttered as he backed away and ran out the door into the rain. He kept running until he was down the street, far enough away that he thought anyone watching wouldn't connect him to the others. He kicked a light post and cried out, though out of fear, frustration, or pain even he didn't quite know. He dropped to his knees and pounded the sidewalk with his fists, his eyes stinging with tears. He didn't know why the mention of his mother had affected him so much, but it had, and there was no other way to deal with it now.
A moment later, his frustration vented, Jason got to his feet shakily, his breathing heavy and erratic. He looked up at the dreary sky and wiped away the tears mixing with the raindrops. "... Momma?" He asked quietly, clenching his fists. "I... I know it's been awhile since I talked to you... I didn't think you could hear me... But maybe you can. I love you, Momma. I miss you every day. I think about you all the time. And if that was you... Thank you for finding a way to talk to me. But Momma, I need to ask you for something. That little boy is so scared. He's even more scared than I was after... After what happened to you. I want to talk to you Momma. But that boy needs peace first... I don't even know if you can hear me, but if you can... Be a Momma to him right now. Ask the others, if there are any, not to bother him for now. They can all say what they want to after we help him. Because that's what we're gonna do." Sniffling a little, Jason steeled himself and said goodbye, turning back to the warehouse and making the trek back. | Name: Jason Grave
Quote: "Pain is temporary. Victory is eternal."
Alias: Turn Back or TB
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Family: Mother (Deceased), Father
Occupation: Office assistant
Appearance: Tall and lithe, Jason is what many would describe as lanky. He has above average strength for his size, but not of any surprising strength. His face is hard beyond his years, his brow in an almost perpetual furrow. His icy blue eyes seem to pierce into ones soul, and he keeps his black hair combed back close to his head. His left hand is a prosthetic, one of the new models that link to the users nervous system and respond in a similar manner to a real hand.
Jason wears business-type button-up shirts and nice ties for his day job, however once the sun sets it's a very different story. Jason changes from a 'mild-mannered' office person to a darkly-dressed vigilante. He wears a tight black shirt and loose-fit dark jeans. He wears a black glove on his right hand, and has steel-toed boots.
Method of Operation: Jason tends to leap into the middle of a fray, getting into fights with criminals at the drop of a hat. He often allows himself to be hit several times near the beginning of a fight, both to lull his opponents into a sense of security, and to build up his own power. Once he starts to fight back, he uses a folding staff to gather momentum, going for the head, the gut, the knees, any weak point he thinks he can exploit.
Superpower: Kinetic absorbtion and redistribution.
Jason has the ability to absorb and redirect and kinetic energy that he is aware of coming into contact with him. This manifests ina few different ways, as listed below.
Enhanced Stamina
By reabsorbing the energy expended while walking or running, Jason can go much further than the normal person without needing to stop for rest. This is not indefinite however, as some energy is lost with each step.
Limited Invulnerability
So long as Jason is aware of physical attacks made against him, he can absorb the energy of the blow without it harming him. This includes bullets.
Energy Storage/Redirection
Jason can store any kinetic energy absorbed within his body or any object he touches as excess potential energy, to be used as extra force. For example, if he is hit by someone, he can store the energy of that hit into his staff to hit them back with the strength of the staff, and the force they had originally hit him with.
Weaknesses
The energy conversion used by Jason is unstable, making any stored energy equally unstable. If he stores the energy for too long, it will begin to entropy, with explosively catastrophic results. This weakness enhances in both speed and power the more energy is absorbed. For example, the force of an apple hitting his head could lie dormant for weeks or months before detonating, but the power of a train could only be held for a few minutes. In addition to this, Jason is not immune to damage taken from unknown sources, he must be aware of an enemy in order to use his powers to defend himself.
Skills: Jason has learned how to fight, though not in any particular style. More the 'jump and run' tactics young gang members often use on the streets, with the major exception being: Jason doesn't run.
Jason has an above-average understanding of technology, and can familiarize himself with a new computer quite quickly.
Jason is a mediocre baseball player.
Equipment: Folding staff, tucked into a back pocket. Cell phone. Steel-toed boots. A handful of metal nuts
Personality: Jason is often cold upon his first meeting. He keeps very professional and businesslike, often not exchanging many words at all. Once he begins to warm up to a person however, another side of him comes out. Jason will begin smiling and joking more, enagaging in conversation and sharing stories of his life. He doesn't have many people he would consider a friend, but those he does he would give his life for.
Enemies, on the other hand, see a completely reversed Jason. They see someone who will sit and take a beating, any punishment they can dole out while laughing in their face. Criminals know fear as Turn Back begins to taunt them as he gets up and uses the force of their own blows to beat them senseless. Those who seek to do him harm see a cold, hard face with an icy stare before a booted sole darkens their vision, sometimes for the last time.
Biography: Jason was born into a poor immigrant family from Europe, who wanted nothing more than to see their boy become a famous American baseball player (Which is, of course, the American dream). His life was dominated by the sport, from playing catch with his father in the back yard using stones when they couldn't afford a new ball, to joining a local little league team as soon as he was big enough. Jason't family had always been low on money, but his mother and father managed to scrape together everything Jason needed for the team. Unfortunately, it seemed Jason was doomed to a life of mediocre sports talent. He never really shone on the field, making a few nice plays and a good hit here or there, but not reaching the standards his parents hoped he would.
Jason's life changed for the first time at the age of 12. During one of the final baseball games of the season, he stood a bit too close to the plate in an all-planned effort to hit the ball with more force. His left hand was struck by the pitch, a fastball right to his knuckles, though Jason felt no pain. He soon forgot the incident however, until a week or two later, when his hand began to ache. Not able to afford a doctor, his parents looked at it, said it seemed fine, and wrapped it with soft cloth, to try and sooth the paid. Soon after, Jason's hand exploded in a flash of purple, the decaying energy from the baseball weeks prior finally taking its toll. The family was introduced to one of the facets of the 'American Dream'; privatized healthcare. The bills from the hospitals, all the tests done, and getting even the cheapest prosthetic they could find all but bankrupted the family. Each parents was forced to take another job just to survive, and that was when Jason's life changed again.
Late one night, walking home form work in an attempt to save money on bus fare, Jason's mother was jumped by a group of muggers. Desperately trying to defend her hard-earned money, she fought back against her attackers, who decided it was easier to simply pull a knife. Jason got the news before leaving for school the next day; his mother had been killed. This sent the boy's father into a spiraling depression, he barely ate or slept, and stopped talking to anybody at all. Jason did everything he could to help, but his father was left a broken shell of a man. Soon after, Jason swore vengeance on the criminals of his city, vowing to use his newfound powers to destroy the people who had taken both his parents from him and ruined his life.
Theme Song: TBD
Relationships: TBD
Extra: We are not normal. |
43,522 | 1,193 | 215 | 1,331 | 353 | Wraith
Wraith was slightly relieved when Ditch snatched the bracelet from her hands. Firstly because it belonged to one of Umbra's lapdogs, which made her skin crawl. Secondly, because it had been sitting in Racket Avenue, which meant that it kind of stunk. Not that she got too hung up on that stuff, but if she had to choose between hanging on to it or not, she was taking the second option.
She didn't really try to calm Ditch down at all. While she understood that the hacker was trying to do the right thing, she didn't appreciate the idea of the group being stuck with a target on their back for the sake of a single kid. Maybe that made her a bad person, but someone needed to look at the situation logically, instead of going around trying to save every single kid in the city.
As soon as she thought that, she felt guilty. Maybe it's just that everyone else here values other people's lives, Kara. You've spent the past year killing anyone that looks at you funny. No one else in here is a murderer- she shook her head. No. Bad thoughts. She couldn't dwell on them too much, or she'd end up like the other day. She didn't want to show that much weakness again.
Still, it seemed like some of the group were actually even worse at comforting people than her. Like, seriously not doing great. The kid just woke up, had no idea who they were, so obviously the best thing to do would be to set fire to things and terrorise him with shadow hands. Not like that would freak him out at all. It took all her self-control to keep from rolling her eyes.
At last, Ecto and Ditch managed to calm the kid down enough to make him talk to them, basically just allowing the kid to confirm the suspicions caused by the bracelet. Sure enough, the kid's wounds were to do with Umbra. This started up a second attempt to comfort the kid from Omega and Turn Back. Omega said something about being the good guys. Wraith couldn't say that herself without feeling like a liar. She kind of envied that, but she wouldn't admit it to anyone that asked. Turn Back, though, managed to start a conversation with the kid.
She kind of just stood there, vaguely listening to them talk. She didn't pay much attention until the kid started talking about ghosts. Once she realised what that meant, she went pale and backed away from the kid slightly. She didn't want to know about her ghosts. Maybe it was just people that cared about you that the kid saw, but if it wasn't...
Well, she'd killed a lot of people, hadn't she? Hell, she'd laughed as she'd done it. The idea of them following her around, of ghosts like that existing. She'd at least taken some comfort in the idea that it'd be over when she died, that she could make up for her actions somehow. If she couldn't, if she'd have to face their ghosts? That idea scared her more than anything she could name.
Even if it was just people she cared about, the idea that her mom had been watching her do those things - she'd always been kind, tried to make her daughter the same way. Said that good things come to those who deserve them, which her daughter had stopped believing when she watched her die. Still, the idea that she'd made her spirit watch her become a monster was horrifying to her. She felt sick to her stomach, and backed away further.
The last thing that Kara Banks wanted was to hear her ghosts. | Name: Kara Banks
Quote: “Real justice leaves nothing behind.”
Alias: Wraith
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Family: Older brother, Steven Banks Father, Carl Banks. Mother, Georgia Banks, Deceased
Occupation: Student
Appearance: Kara is shorter than average for her age, and has the lean, muscular build of a gymnast. Her facial features are slightly unremarkable, but she could be described as mildly attractive, with pale grey eyes and a light dusting of freckles across her nose. She has medium-length brownish-blonde hair, which she ties back into a ponytail whenever possible.
During her daily life, Kara almost always dresses casually in jeans, battered old sneakers and tank tops or t-shirts. She owns an embarrassing amount of hero themed t-shirts, most of them given to her by her brother every time her birthday or Christmas rolled around, or just whenever he wanted an excuse to annoy her. Secretly, she is quite fond of them, even the ones with the cheesy slogans, which could explain why she wears them so much.
When operating as ‘Wraith’, Kara wears a silver eye mask that covers the top half of her face, along with a dark grey jacket and black trousers loose enough for her to be able to move quickly. She always wears a pair of thick black gloves wrapped in barbed wire, designed to be completely waterproof due to the nature of her fighting style.
Method of Operation: Her fighting style is based on provoking her enemies into aggression, forcing them to lower their guard and leave openings for her to attack. Once her opponent is vulnerable, she can use her ability to directly attack their vital organs and end the fight before it properly begins.
If forced into a fight, she uses her ability to alter her density to be lighter than air, allowing her to take flight and making her a fast-moving, unpredictable target. When striking her opponent, she heightens the density of her fists as they hit her opponent, giving every impact much more force behind it.
Superpower: Kara can control the density of her body, allowing her to walk through walls, become lighter than air, or give her punches the force of sledgehammer blows. In combat, she uses her power to phase into opponents bodies and destroy their vital organs, or hit them with strikes that have a huge amount of power.
Her power has drawbacks, though. While increasing her density can allow her to become stronger and withstand more blows, her body can only take the strain for a limited time before she risks permanent bone or muscle damage. This also applies to reducing her density, as the strain put on her organs could lead to health problems or falling unconscious if used for long periods of time. This means she must use her power in short bursts to avoid being damaged.
Skills: Kara is a skilled actor, and does not hesitate to lie when the situation calls for it, and is able to be a very convincing diplomat. She is also a skilled gymnast, which lends her some strength and agility that she would otherwise lack and has gotten her out of a few sticky situations.
Equipment: Barbed gloves, designed to do maximum damage to internal organs. Small vial of poison that can be used on more durable enemies. Backpack to carry equipment and hide obvious evidence after fights.
Personality: To the outside world, Kara has a friendly, outgoing personality. She surrounds herself with people who are kind and caring, making friendships easily with a hug and a beaming smile. She is, for all intents and purposes, a model student, the type of person that you would expect to make it out in the world and live a happy, normal life. She seeks out others like her, who are held up on a pedestal to others and surrounds herself with them. However, if they are seen as doing wrong, or harming someone else, then they tend to disappear.
In reality, behind the façade of warmth and friendliness that she puts on, Kara has an obsession with justice, whatever the cost. No matter how small a grievance, how petty the crime, if she witnesses someone doing wrong, then she marks them in her mind and obsessively tracks them down to deal out her version of ‘justice’. Still, she seems to almost enjoy it, always thinking that she is in the right, no matter what the circumstances.
She dislikes heroes, and the way that they attempt to save the day by bringing villains to justice. As far as she is concerned, if the villain responsible lives, then justice has not been done.
Biography: As a child, Kara was always liked by those around her. She grew up in a happy family of normal people, completely unaware of her powers, and was closer to her mother than anyone else in the world. They would sing and dance in the park, go to the theatre, and she would be supportive of everything Kara did. The first time she decided to try out at the local theatre, her mother was the last person to count her out and the first person to give her a shoulder to cry on when she was rejected.
For sixteen years, she lived an ideal life. Her dad would come home, beaming after a good days work or excitedly waving a bonus and declaring that they’d be going on a holiday or buying a new car. Her brother, two years older, would smile and laugh and they’d sit and chat together, less like siblings and more like old friends. Sadly for Kara, it all came tumbling down. Her mother was murdered, with her the only witness. She was only able to survive because her powers activated, allowing the bullet fired at her to simply bounce off. Not understanding what was going on, she ran away.
After the murder, she was racked with guilt over what happened, over not being able to help. Her father and brother tried to help her, but it just didn’t seem to work. She recalled the way she had withstood the bullet, and realised that she had some kind of power. She began to train, and this was where she developed her obsession, vowing never to rest until every single person like this was brought to justice. At eighteen, two years of training later, this obsession drove her to buying a mask, and taking to the streets of the city as Wraith.
Theme Song: Amnesia- Miracle of Sound
Relationships: Not discussed
Extra: Who’s not normal? We’re not normal. |
43,523 | 1,193 | 216 | 314 | 285 | Like a frightened deer ready to bolt Reaper hovered near the exit of the auditorium, body tense and the gloved fingers of her left hand rubbing harshly against the back of her neck in an uncomfortable tick. Underneath the mask her black gaze alternated between the commotion surrounding the boy and her own feet, as though confirming her powers weren’t acting of their own accord once more. Well, their own accord wasn’t quite right – they technically didn’t have willpower. They just reacted to her own desires. Though, scaring the boy definitely wasn’t her intention…
Yet the damage was already done, and combined with the others’ poor attempts at comforting the boy was scared half to death, which considering he already looked half starved to death wasn’t a good thing. Hence Reaper’s hovering near the entrance, ready to leave if needed while silently cursing herself. Imagine if that had happened without her mask, as just Zoey. She tried to keep her mind off it – there was little chance of Zoey running into this situation. Meanwhile between Ditch, Turn Back and Omega – and she supposed Ecto, as awkward as his attempt was – he at least seemed to be calming. Something Reaper had no intention of breaking once more by approaching.
Wraith at the very least shared her sentiment, though she doubted for the same reason once the talk of ghosts came up. If Reaper was tense before she was absolutely rigid now, not even sparing Turn Back a glance as he swiftly made his retreat from the auditorium and into the rain, though she kept note of where his beacon went until it seemed to merge with the sea of indistinguishable blobs making up the city. It was almost tempting to slip out and follow his example despite the ache settling in her chest. There was an apology at the forefront of her mind, someone she needed to explain herself to for many years…
Now wasn’t the time. Physically shaking her head Reaper ripped her gaze once more away from the stage to try and pay attention, to keep track of anyone approaching that she could sense. It wasn’t like she could come close currently. She doubted Umbra enjoyed losing one of his assets either, however young the boy may be. Besides that, despite all the talk of being the good guys she highly doubted that the kid would appreciate her approaching once more.
“At least if the bracelet was his it means no one else was around here… that we know of,” The shadow manipulator muttered lowly, as though unwilling to be heard by the stage and instead glancing over to Wraith. “There was no signs of others where you found this?” | Name
Zoey KasimirQuote
--Alias
ReaperAge
23Gender
FemaleFamily
Father . Mother, passed. Distant family otherwise.Occupation
University student.Appearance
Standing at 6’1’’ Zoey is a rather tall woman, but thankfully isn’t so thin as to appear sickly due to her active lifestyle, leaving a fair amount of muscle packed onto her body. Her red hair is such a light shade that it almost appears to be orange, the strands falling straight down to her mid back, though more often than not she has bangs falling into her face. Said face has rather elegant, if harsh looking features made up of sharp, hard lines with high cheekbones and brows near constantly furrowed above her grey-blue eyes. Sadly this all adds up to Zoey having a natural ‘resting bitch face’, often appearing to be judging everything about you with a single glance.
Due to her upbringing nothing she wears makes her more approachable either, her casual wear often consisting of slacks and button up shirts or high brand sleeveless tops, and sunglasses she probably spent too much on. Zoey probably doesn’t even own a pair of jeans.
Well… except one pair. Reaper’s vigilante costume is made purely to be as non-conspicuous as possible, made up of simple loose jeans, gloves, and an oversized hoodie, all in black to match the theme of course. The only thing that really makes it stand out at all in a crowd is that if anyone glanced beneath the hood Reaper is always wearing a full head balaclava, the only openings being two eye holes – though even then her eyes are constantly blacked over anyway. No skin is on show, and due to the size of the hoodie it helps hide her gender as well.Method of Operation
Zoey is a vicious thing, and an equally dirty fighter. Since she’s often in mid to close combat she doesn’t hesitate to use cheap tricks to seal a victory, and often relies on surprise and brute strength to end a confrontation before it can truly begin. Due to the latter she isn’t highly known, though there are definitely enough whispers in the streets to gain attention. Thankfully no one seems to realize she’s a woman yet, between trying not to talk in costume and often slouching to further hide her features, which additionally puts less emphasis on her height.
Though, if it’s ever publicly found out that Reaper is a female she has so many cheesy lines ready to go.Personality
Zoey is rather bitter and sarcastic, despite trying to appear more elegant than she is. Even with her efforts to be aloof and untouchable she can be quick to fluster or anger if the right buttons are pressed, and will lash out. She’s pessimistic, and at times with her biting attitude can be a bit of a bully. Truth be told it’s rather accidental though, as Zoey is too preoccupied with her own problems to care about harassing others. She’s taken to finding distractions as well and can easily focus on something completely off topic, such as thinking ‘what would I say to this mugger if I did wear a spandex superhero costume?’ while completely jumping him.
Also, since she’s had everything provided for her Zoey is a bit loose with money. She knows every dollar counts, but what’s a bit here and there?Superpower
Zoey is for all intents and purposes a darkness elemental. The main part of being this elemental is that she can sense the same darkness in others; however no one is pure sunshine and rainbows so it acts more like a sixth sense of ‘beacons’ to people, excluding young children. In large cities it’s like being surrounded by a sea of these beacons all melding together into a gelatinous blob, only the particularly large ones such as murderers standing out in any capacity, and with concentration she can ‘separate’ those beacons approximately a block around her to pick out locations in the overall mass.
Were it only this Zoey might have her hands full with vigilante work, but thankfully that rather useless if constant part of her abilities isn’t what makes her a threat. Zoey’s specialization is the ability to solidify shadows to create things as needed, her ‘signature’ being claws made of darkness – stronger than her grip and farther than her reach. However she can also form them into other things, such as barriers that would be too weak to do more than slow a bullet but would solidly stop a body if she’s fast enough. Her father as another example could use a shadow as thin as a needle to perform minute details his hands were too large for. In terms of shadows Zoey can also perform a ‘shadowstep’ of short distances by stepping into or forming a large enough shadow to disappear into them to another. Obviously this power set is most useful at night when there’s less light sending her power source scurrying, but its’ not impossible to use them in the sunshine and light – just weaker. Even her own shadow can be used to an extent.
The last useful piece of her powers is that when concentrating, particularly in the heat of battle, Zoey feels no pain – which isn’t always a good thing as she’s as delicate as a normal human. Only her own logic at seeing her wounds would let her know when the time to retreat is, and leaves her paranoid of her back in particular.
Visually, as an elemental darkness tends to react around her. Sometimes her shadow tends to ‘wisp’ little tendrils of smoky black up and curl around her legs when she’s idle, or her eyes can be darkened to hide their color.Skills
Zoey learned sambo martial arts when she was younger, though never really put it to any real world use until recently. She does however keep quite fit, frequenting gyms or jogging through the streets. Aside from that due to hunting trips she’s quite patient when it comes to waiting for ‘prey’, and knows some trapping techniques as well as how to handle a rifle.
Zoey also has the fantastic ability to laugh at her own jokes and not feel self-conscious about it.Equipment
Mace – Yep, a bottle of ordinary mace. Zoey tends to forget about it since she’s so reliant upon her powers however.
First Aid Kit, including a mirror! – Because Zoey can’t feel pain until a scuffle is already over she always comes prepared in case she misses any deeper wounds, hiding a small first aid kit within the confines of her hoodie. It comes with a small make-up mirror stashed inside to check the extent of damage to her back when necessary. It’s better than wondering later on ‘why does my shoulder blade feel like dust?’Biography
As the first and only child to the Kasimir family Zoey was the pride of her parents’ life, and with their social status never had to want for anything. While both her parents came from upper class families their fortune truly came from her father, a talented surgeon who was rather highly sought after. He had a near hundred percent survivability on his performances, even the more dangerous ones, due to the least kept secret in his medical ward – Dr. Kasimir wasn’t a normal human.
It was within days after her birth that it became apparent Zoey took after her father, and in more than just his sharp features. He was of course overjoyed and Zoey started learning even before she could walk to use her powers, identical to his. Her mother was often playfully exasperated with her father, but for years they were a happy family unit. It was only when Zoey started school did she start to realize her life wasn’t perfect. She was six when the exasperation was no longer playful, and the affectionate whispers her parents shared with upturned lips turned to harsh accusations and clenched teeth. Though they held on as long as they could to their marriage, at least for the sake of their daughter, the escalating disgust was coming to its very inevitable conclusion.
Yet it never came to that, but Zoey feverently wished that it did.
It was around when the ‘divorce’ word was finally being vocalized that the route was violently derailed. An accident happened – Zoey’s mother had been out shopping when, out on the streets, she kneeled down to pick something up and lost her balance, falling in the path of an incoming vehicle. She didn’t even make it to her husband’s operating table. While Dr. Kasimir was briefly looked at due to their known impending divorce, it was obvious he wasn’t a part of it – the accident was even caught on surveillance camera.
Following her mother’s subsequent funeral Zoey withdrew into herself, much to her father’s concern. It’s what prompted him to dismiss a good portion of their staff and quit his job to fall back on their savings to spend more time at home with his little joy, his work no longer centerfold to his day. He taught her more about her powers over the years, immersed himself even in her school and taught her all about how important image was. When she was older they began having annual hunting trips where Zoey was taught how to track, to trap and most importantly just get to spend some time with her only parent. The hunting was scary at first, but as a darkness elemental as well her father had a distinctive beacon to her, which only became more pronounced after her mother’s death.
When it came time for her to start high school Dr. Kasimir finally returned to being a surgeon, though he signed Zoey up for sambo martial arts as well. His worry knew no bounds, he wanted his little girl to be able to take care of herself. He even got her to carry mace – something she let him know she found useless. They had powers, Dad. But he insisted, and she relented. Yet as his hours at work once more grew and Zoey grew more confident in her prowess is when the ideas started. Vigilantism. What better way to also use her abilities for good, like the man she looked up to? Her grades were decent, but definitely not enough to follow in his footsteps and be a surgeon or anything. It was a whimsical and surprisingly optimistic thought, and before long Zoey found herself sneaking out and beginning to foil purse snatchers and muggings in the underbelly of their city. Well, what few there were anyway – Zoey lived in a good neighbourhood in a good city. She found herself getting more and more into it despite a lack of activity, soon looking through back logs of crimes by sneaking into the local sleepy precinct via her shadowstep and going through cold cases.
It was going through these that she came across the box – Kasimir, A.. Her mother. Figuring at first someone filed it wrong it still sent an ache through Zoey, and it was morbid curiosity that had her slowly taking the box and opening it. It was there, scrawled in the pages of an old notebook that Zoey found out why this box was in cold cases. Turns out it was a misfile due to some loose notes scrawled at the top, yet one in particular stuck out to her.
‘On video victim appears to have been yanked forward’.
It was such a small thing. Obviously it went no where, there was no one around to yank her forward – it was even on video so the half-hearted scribble was discarded. On video. A video sitting in the box, dusty and unseen for years. Something Zoey never wanted to see in her life if she could help it. And one, stupid, mistaken note had her taking it out to see for herself.
As soon as the video started Zoey knew it was a bad idea, but like a train wreck couldn’t tear her eyes away. When her mother kneeled on the sidewalk to pick up her dropped wallet Zoey knew exactly what was coming and finally averted her gaze from watching her mother’s expression on the grainy video as she pitched forward. That’s how Zoey saw it.
Rewind. Watch. Rewind. Watch. Zoom in – the grain stayed but so did the darkening pixels around her mother’s wrist in the old surveillance video. As Zoey’s mother grabbed onto the wallet that had fallen just off the sidewalk something barely seen wrapped around her wrist, and from the motion of her body pulled her forward. It was such a tiny detail, it was no wonder no one picked up on it – most would probably even dismiss it as bad picture quality. It was impossible for anyone to have pulled her forward after all.
Anyone except someone who had the ability to solidify shadows.
Denial set in quickly, and as quick as Zoey could shove everything back together and back in place she was out of the precinct – and out of the city. The constant shadow stepping had her exhausted but she ended up in the grounds her father took her to every year. Hours after the sun went down he found her, and despite all the denial, the rationalization, as soon as Zoey saw him it came pouring out. A slew of vile words, accusations, he lied to her, but most of all one burning question.
“Why?! What was the point?! What – did you want to bang another woman? She was your wife! Was it money? She was going to divorce your crazy ass and take half of your precious fortune-“
“She was going to take you away from me.”
No denial. No softening. Just a simple fact that took the wind from Zoey’s sails and left her gaping at him. What do you even say to that? What can you say to that? There wasn’t a happy ending to this tale. He had asked her what he could do to fix this, to make her happy – and she told him nothing would make this okay. So Dr. Kasimir did the last thing he could, and gave his daughter justice. The next morning he had turned himself in, admitting to what and how he murdered his wife. There was only one thing he was adamant about – he was the only one in the family with these abilities.
Unable to stay in her family home with all the bittersweet and corrupted memories Zoey found herself applying for university across the country and subsequently moving on getting acceptance. As the new head of the Kasimir family it was easy after all. For a few years she kept her head down, didn’t show her powers and almost grew to resent them. More than that she grew to resent this damn, corrupted city with its rampant crime and she grew to resent the rush she got the first time she stepped in to help someone again.
It’s what Zoey always wanted, after all.
Nearing the end of her degree Zoey is finally back into vigilantism. She couldn’t stay away from it in this city. Here though there’s no precinct trawls needed, as Reaper finds crime whenever they go looking. Subtlety is needed, of course – who else in this world is a known darkness elemental? Confidentiality is key.
Which is why Zoey finds herself considering outright bolting from the city as her mouse hovered over the delete button of her email, looking at this message from the infamous Ditch. Why risk her identity? Why risk anything when it’d be so easy to pick up and leave?
Well, maybe it was time to redeem the darkened path.Theme Song
Money - Mystery SkullsRelationships
None currently.Extra
We’re not normal, that’s for sure. |
43,524 | 1,193 | 217 | 468 | 617 | The tension in the air was enough to strangle her. The breathing of chaos, uneasiness....Despair...In a way, it was tormentingly straining. To hear and feel so much that could break at the smallest turn of events. It was at the tipping point from Umbra, only to be kicked when Reaper, for some unknown reason thought it was wise to use her abilities.
The child's sobs were something that pulled at her chest. She hated the sound of crying, tears of any kind. She couldn't stand the sound of it, the feeling of water falling down one's cheeks. TB and Manny were helping, Ditch soon jumping in, Ecto trying but was clearly out of his element, yet the child seemed to still be a bit untrusting. No surprise, he's a brave little one to be dealing with the masked faces looking his way.
Hearing the bracelet being crushed under Ditch's foot though caused Raven to hold back a groan. She was hoping she could feel that later. She needed to know what to look out for in the future. But it helped the kid so it softened the blow to her lost chance.
A sigh escaping her lips, she felt for the hood on the back of her coat, only to realize that it was still with the child. Carefully moving to the stage, her cane tapping in rhythmic patterns, head turned away so he wouldn't look directly into the raven's sockets. Raven Tale began to feel for her coat, the laced sleeves brushing her finger tips she pulled it close, donning the fabric and pulling the hood up. Her hand brushing the mask to disperse it only for the oversized hood to cover her face instead.
"Sorry little one, I can't show my face, but at least its not as scary now, right?" Offering a smile she sat on the ground, back to the stage to give the kid space, but to still be able to listen.
A chill ran down her spine when he spoke to TB. Talking of his mother, did he know him? No, the way he spoke, it was strange. As if he never met the topic of conversation. It was like a flip of the switch, TB, calm and collected began to break slightly. Leaving in a hurry to the awaiting rain. She couldn't help but bring her knees up when she heard a scream of suffering. A cry that was bottled up, it was more than faint, below a whispered call, but it was still a haunting melody.
Playing with the cane in hand, she ran her thumb over the designed engraved in the handle. Feeling the wooden stage at her back as she continued to listen. The child had spoken of ghosts before TB left. Could he see them?
The thought made her freeze up, biting her lip at the ideas that ran through her head. She began to hear a beautiful voice in her mind, one unmatched by all, soft words and kind laughter, and it was enough to almost make a tear fall down her own face. Kaite, could he see her?
No, Kaite should be watching over her family. There was not a day Raven had not thought about her best friend. But she wouldn't think the woman would be with her. She should be safe for now. "So little one, do you have a place to go? Family? Don't worry, ether way we'll still protect you from the bad guys, and Umbra. But is there anyone that might be worried?"
If it was the case, than someone must be looking for him. Family that must be worried sick, overworked in their quest to find him. But if not, where would they take him? She had her own place, and her neighbour could help, it was safe, but he might need something different. Something that feels safer.
All that she knew right now, was that they were probably going to mess up, they were going to make too many mistakes. | Name:Aurora Lorell
Quote:"One should never fear the dark. Just enjoy the light you have left."
Alias: Raven tale
Age: 22
Gender: female
Family: Father: Rick Lorell, Mother: Sarah Lorell
Occupation: Horse trainer and olympic rider.
Aurora is seen to be a beauty. With a lean build and fair skin standing in at around 5,2. Her eyes are what really set her apart besides the snowy form. Red and clouded as though in a veil of mist she almost always keeps them closed due to being bullied as a child. Many saying they are unnerving to look at.
Method of Operation: No one knows that its truly her. Those that have gained her help have only seen the creatures that she calls forth. Usually beasts from mythology that have few features. If shes forced to be seen she stays silent, trying to keep her age and gender a secret. If anyone found out who she was, the world would find out everything about her in minutes.
Instead she uses her tour as a way to keep her location foggy. Being a world and Olympic rider, she has been to all corners of the world. Each one earning a job or two from her. Her method of transportation is a horse she had conjured herself, what she sees as the only link one could give her. Still she reminds herself that she should never get involved with things too big, but the chance to use her abilities has always been too tempting.
Superpower: Aurora has the ability to conjure beasts from stories she has read or been told. Using a leather bound journal as a catalyst to recite the right lines to call forth her companions. She found that the larger impact a story holds to her, the easier it is to call her creatures. Though strange enough she has found that it is more difficult to create that which is already in this world. Being able to make a wraith she has massive difficult in creating a bird.
Many would think this ability is limitless. Sadly Aurora must read or hear the tale in which her conjure is being made from. Even than she can't always make them unless it had a impact on her in some way. Because of this she has a habit of asking others for stories. Any kind hoping that she could advance her abilities further.
Her biggest weakness is that this only works when she has a sound mind and when the book is open. Growing up taming thousand pound animals has made her difficult to frighten. But if she falls pray to fear, the companions she had called would turn on her. If her book is closed her train of thought would break, causing the creatures to disperse and leave her side.
Skills: an amazing horse back rider, her hearing is better than most. Memory is above average. Shes been told that her voice is rather calming due to her nature. Shes also had a good chance of catching a lie so long as it's spoken.
Equipment: Book of tales. Every story is written in Braille. Because of this she keeps it hidden from view and no one has yet to look through it's pages. If someone found out what was inside than the trail would be short in finding out that Aurora is the owner.
Personality: Aurora is a seeker of knowledge. Someone who needs to know things small and large. Heavy and light. This was due to the fact that she was born blind, growing up with being sheltered and lead around she found herself growing tired of the treatment quickly. Even though she would have a pilot smile when someone offers to take her hand or tell her where something is, she would find herself loathing on the inside. Wanting to be as independent as she can be. Pushing herself to be better at what she dose to prove to those around her that she dose not need her eyes in order to live her life. She thinks that many who help her do it not for herself, but so they could feel better. Thinking that they would be a hero for a small moment, she can not stand the thought of being a tool used in someone's self need to feel important. And thus it has only added to her independence.
Yet even with the quite demands of independence, Aurora is a calming presence. Soft spoken shes not one to raise her voice. When it comes to her friends, she is usually the one to end a fight with words alone. Comforting others when they are in need not using sayings of encouragement, but sitting at their side in silence.
She had an interesting habit though. When in good company she tends to speak in riddles, thinking that it's due to the stories she obsesses over, she tries her best to keep it under wraps. Even so, those who she calls friends will tell her she slipped back into her odd way of speaking.
Her greatest fear is being in absolute silence, she also tends to tap her finger on her cane. Sound is her greatest asset and without it she turns into a shell of her usual self. Fumbling over words and sometimes not able to use her powers safely.
Biography: Aurora was born into the business of horses. Her father a trick rider and her mother a cross country racer, the two were a power house in the horse world. Before she was even born they were getting her ready with what style and what horse she would ride, only for their dreams to be crushed when they saw her for the first time. A tiny albino who's retinas never even developed leaving her blind.
yet that did not stop the girl from living up to her family's potential. She became connected with the animals that her family made a living from. Every fall she went through, she would stand from, no injury would ever scare her away. The feeling of power a horse would give was too great to leave. Where in any other situation she would be led around and treated like a child. In the arena she was expected to handle things herself and for once she herself could be the leader. At age six she was competing in not only trick riding, but cross country and dressage.
Having a love for the stories that her mother would read her. Aurora began to print Braille in her own journal, often reading them out loud to her horse. After all, he was the only one that could deal with a 13 year old speaking for hours at a time. Sleeping in the stalls with her books clutched in hand the journal only grew thicker, and heavier. Till eventually the words she recited caused the animal to spook. Thrashing in the box and causing her to scramble out, screams of rage and fear ringing through the stable.
Before she knew it her parents were at her side, asking her what was wrong yet whatever had caused the damage was gone. Again and again it had happened, each time with her reading. Its taken her two full months to find out that the cause of her horse’s spooking was the conjuration of creatures from her own words.
Her own abilities.
Another idea that she could gain independence she began to work. Conducting experiments to figure out the rights and wrongs of her abilities. Its taken her years to find things out on her own. By the time she was 17 she was a competitor in the Olympics. Finally a chance where she was away from those who thought she needed them. All she needed was her book and her cane. Once walking through the stable halls at night. Checking her companion to make sure their first run in the Olympics would be fine. Yet as she opened the door she found something was wrong.
Her stallion named Beauty in a Shadow, was gone.
Her first thought was to contact the security to find him. Fear gripping her mind she could still remember the sweat that ran down her palms as she gripped her cane. Yet when she clicked it on the stone ground she made up her mind. Her book in hand she ran her finger across the pages. "With eyes made for night, and fire as fierce as a devil's light. He tracked down hunters of his land. And made them swear he could never stand." The sound of light feet pattering next to her she found a smile on her lips when the sound of a ragged fox was found at her side. To her eyes there was blank. Yet to anyone who saw it was a fox with two tails, told in Japanese lore to be the devil in a different skin, with eyes of lit green and a scroll strapped to it's back. "Find Beauty." It was all she said, and it was all she needed to. That night she took matters into her own hands as the fox lead her through the halls. Away from the stable and out to the parking lot to hear the half drugged screams of her stallion.
That night something snapped, she no longer used her abilities to gain a smile as she called forth a crimson wraith from the tale "a wife in the bog." The gut wrenching shrieks and screams rang true to her ears. the creature she chosen playing on their fear, having them see a different story as it led them away, leaving her stallion.
she never been so frightened for her horse in her life. Ever since she vowed to make sure that nothing like that would happen to another creature. To another ride, another person, so long as she could help it. She knew it was not just for others though, she never felt so needed until that moment. Like she could actually do something outside her own family. That she could accomplish something on her own. Its difficult for her still, not even her parents know about her second hobby. Her father even looks at those with powers in fear.
At age 18 she ended up moving out. She couldn't risk her family finding out that she was Raven's Tale. Shes done everything to keep that name down. To keep herself hidden so that they would never find out it was her. What if she gained a enemy? What if someone wanted her hurt and they found out that the one they were after was just a blind woman who lived alone?
She was living a dangerous game. And yet, even still as she told herself over and over again that she was playing with fire. She could not stop. The sense of power too intoxicating, the thankful words too well received. She still competes in competitions, but Aurora still finds herself with a smile on her lips whenever she would hear that someone was saved by a strange beast.
She just hopes that the day when she finds herself in deep water would come later. Much, much later.
"We are not normal."
friesian stallion who she named Loki as a barn name he was registered as Beauty in Shadow. He's the only living creature who knows Aurora has abilities. |
43,525 | 1,193 | 218 | 890 | 504 | Girard couldn't help but cringe as the scene on and near the stage unfolded in front of him. They almost seemed to be making some progress by carefully talking the little man down right up until Turn Back and Reaper both showed they're powers though the latter somewhat seemed less than intentional. It triggered an absolutely pitiful moment of fear and more than enough sadness to go around as the poor kid clutched onto Ecto sobbing while Ditch moved over also attempting to comfort the boy and seeming to succeed where the others failed for the moment however the bracelet only seemed to bring out desperation. That seemed to change as the woman crushed the object underfoot taking that away and it looked like it made a better impression on they're guest than most anything else that was tried which was a good sign but what the boy had to say left them no doubt as to the culprit.
"That son of a bitch." He thought feeling on the verge of anger which he forced himself to rein back for the time.
The last thing anyone needed to do was get upset in front of the kid and it would only leave more room for him to get a negative feel for them. But the big man felt kind of frozen when looking at the boy who in a way reminded him of his brother in a way. That one major traumatic event that could and would change what you only leaving you and whoever else you had to pick up the pieces of a shattered perception. His brother had become much more quiet around them, particularly him, at times despite all the comfort his family tried to provide and Tank couldn't help seeing the similarities. His expression had turned from concerned to distant as his mind was swiftly making him relive the shooting and following weeks all over again. It hurt more than he was willing to admit having seen his brother become so different to what he remembered and there was every chance this kid could end up the same but they had to try everything they could to help and the cost didn't matter.
Girard had only caught the slightest of the conversation TB had managed to start being more than a bit preoccupied in his own thoughts but he heard the boy talking about ghosts around them and numerous at that and it made him think of his own family a little. He did notice the other man leaving but was hardly capable of asking why or in any rush to stop him because he looked less than good momentarily. It took him a moment to pan around the room noticing a few of the others were either uncomfortable or just unable to help with the situation kind of like how he felt before where as the rest at the stage were still trying to get a little trust back. He realized in a moment he had something to say to the boy and he felt it needed to be said for his sake at the least and it was him who inspired it in the big man. Tank moved himself over towards the stage slowly and deliberately, part for keeping the little guy calm and part because of the weight of the situation resting on him, as he sat on the still newly constructed side of the stage which thanks to him he knew would hold the weight.
"I know someone like you...someone who went through nothing anyone should have to. He more afraid than I could imagine of what happened to him and what was going to happen after. His family, friends and everyone one did everything they could to get him better and try to take away his fear. He did his best to fight that fear and it changed him too, it made him stronger than he was before but only because he realized he could do something about it. Maybe he couldn't do everything he used to but one thing he could was give everything he had to help others who faced the same thing and to be a better person than the people who hurt him. I learned a lot from him and one thing I learned was to help anyone who needed it and I'll make you the same promise to protect you and make sure Umbra doesn't get to do this to anyone else if you promise not to let what he did keep you from being a stronger you. I'll keep my end no matter what, I'll just watch and hope you get the same support from everyone who cares too."
The big man gave up something personal, maybe a bit vague, but very important to him. It was a memory of his great-grandfather, a man who had been nearly beaten to death and left to it by criminals in Millennium City and spent the rest of his life trying to put all of his money and influence to provide help for anyone who was hurt or otherwise attacked by the dark side of the city. The sheer determination and good heart of the man was something that Girard looked up to and had always been a part of why he did what he did trying to clean up the city and he hoped the kid could draw something from it too. | Name: Girard Babcock.
Quote: Buddy I'd like to see you try.
Alias: Tank.
Age: 23.
Gender: Male
Family:
Mother-Ellen; Father-Deckard; Younger sister- May; Younger brother- Jeremiah.
Occupation: Construction and Demolition, he prefers the latter.
Girard stands at 6'8" and weighs upwards of 400lbs thanks to his power. He tends to wear whatever is comfortable normally whether
it be short sleeves and jeans or some other combo. When he becomes Tank a dark green bomber jacket, a black shirt underneath, with grey camo pants are his preference, tough/comfortable and plenty of storage, including a large military helmet with a face cover.
Method of Operation: Girard's method can be described as hit them fast and hit them hard or occasionally take everything they have on the chin and keep going. He has the patience to wait for the right time to charge in like an angry comet dispensing explosives if and when necessary. Once his controlled havoc has been unleashed he makes sure his target is down for the count before getting out.
Superpower:
Girard got the alias Tank from the supernaturally dense tissue in his body. He is easily capable of shrugging off most conventional weaponry and even plenty of non-conventional means of attack. He is also far stronger and heavier than he appears making him difficult to contend with in most situations. However, all this extra weight and size makes him quite slow most of the time and when he does get moving quickly he is very much at the mercy of his own momentum. While he might be practically invulnerable to a conventional attack, even a few powered as well, he still has a battery of things that can effect him like electricity, poison, and mental powers come to thought. His weight overpowers his strength to an extent making jumping or upwards motion far more difficult not to mention going through weak floors because of it. He tends to avoid large bodies of water really not wanting to sink like a rock before even trying to swim. Lastly, it often takes him awhile to lick his wounds if he gets particularly hurt because he has a lot more to hurt than most.
Skills: Girard knows how to take care of home life well enough, maybe not perfectly but it'll do. He has an engineering degree but enjoys getting his hands dirty working but he knows buildings well and if there were a structural weakness he would be the one to notice it. Explosives help in this endeavor and he has taken quite the shine to making his own for his escapades though he is very careful with them. He doesn't have any sort of combat training but he is a big man with more than his share of weight to throw around and he has gotten good at it.
Equipment: He brings multiple different homemade explosives and his get up but other than that he can improvise a weapon if he so needs it.
Personality: Girard tends to be a rather friendly guy mostly carefree. He will talk to anyone who will listen provided he has something to say or will listen to anyone if the subject is good. He tends to be careful and relatively peaceful but he is no gentle giant and if someone starts something it won't take him long to step in and give them what they have coming though he tends to hold back for their sake if it gets physical. He is far more concerned with other people than himself trying to help out where he can with a smile on his face mostly because he can. He is more than willing to work with other vigilantes though his forward style doesn't always mesh. He might have looked up to heroes at one point but to him its people like him and others who are willing to go further that really keep the criminals on edge.
Criminals are one of the few things that Girard detests and cleaning up the city one gang at a time is his way of dealing with it. He doesn't always expect much out of them but he fully expects them to try and surprise crime fighters so he values patience for keeping him out of trouble. For him there are no restrictions on what kind of activity to stop though some warrant less force than others which he is keenly aware of. Despite his approach to the bad element serious collateral damage is something he avoids whenever possible, no need to make it harder on the people and families who live in the city like him. He intends to protect and clean up the city to make it better for him, his family, and every good hearted person left in it.
Biography: Girard's parents met at a local diner in the city and had a few arguments before they really got talking but it was uphill from there and the two have been inseparable since. They managed to carve out a nice life by the time their first son was born and they were amazed when he was. While Girard wouldn't have fully developed powers until he was well into his teens they had an impact on his size from day one. He had a rather good life never much to complain about, his father also being quite a big guy and a short temper with troublemakers, warding off plenty of trouble with his siblings only making it better. If his parents weren't there he was looking after them and would continue to do so through his life seeing his family as the most important thing he had. His parents actually bought the diner and it did good for a while but continually less people came when some local gang members started targeting it driving people away as well as making life harder for the family. Girard now with some years under his belt found out most of them were around his age and being the guy he was intervened once roughing a couple of them up in the process to which they stopped coming for a bit but it wouldn't last.
The leader had taken particular offense to it, his cousin having taken a beating in the intervention, came back and put several shots through the diner's front hitting a couple patrons as well as his brother also grazing his sister who was nearby. It was one of the few moments Girard couldn't recall because he rushed out after them in a rage having no intention of them getting away. He probably should have know it would be a trap but there was little thought running through his mind when he walked into an opening in-between finding seven vengeful aggressors though only the leader had a gun. Girard admits he remembers very little of what happened but it ended very badly for the seven who tried with everything they had to bring him down only to find they couldn't because he was shrugging off pipes, chains, hell even the leader's pistol barely left a mark on him with repeated shots. After he reined himself in he got out of there to go and check on his family who were glad to see him alive after his pursuit. It was part of the reason he would later become Tank but for some years it calmed down.
His brother and sister recovered, his brother lost some range of motion in his left arm but he lived, but thing got back to being more normal if not more close between the family. It had occurred more than ever that Girard was something special and they told him that it was his choice how to handle his 'gift'. Of course he did his best to conceal if not so much hide it for a time not sure what to do but he would eventually seeing more and worse crimes as he got older. He couldn't let the horror that happened to his family just go on or show up else where especially not after one of his best friends nearly got mugged among other continued attempts on people he cared about or around him. Since then he has done his best to keep a good balance between being him and being Tank who is far less forgiving than him and has put more than a little fear into the cities criminal population. His efforts haven't been appreciated by all but even people who denounce the vigilantes have no bearing on him enough to make him stop. When he got the letter from Ditch he couldn't help but see the use in working together to take on someone possibly more powerful than all of them and he made his choice then.
Theme Song: Simple Man
Relationships:
Extra: We are not normal. |
43,526 | 1,193 | 219 | 469 | 141 | So little one, do you have a place to go? Family? Don't worry, either way we'll still protect you from the bad guys, and Umbra. But is there anyone that might be worried?
Glancing up at hooded vigilante, the young boy swallowed, moving closer to Ditch and gripping her arm tightly, hiding himself from looking directly at Raven Tale. Seemed that even though she had taken off the raven skull mask, he was still afraid. Ditch gently embraced the child, trying to assure him that there was nothing to be afraid of.
Tank moved up slowly towards the stage, and Ditch could feel the boy’s grip get even tighter, clearly afraid of the large man. One neon blue eye poked out from her embrace, watching the vigilante speak, and when he was done, the child pulled himself away from Ditch and tightly hugged Tank.
“Tank.. if you could just.. Keep him busy for a little while? That’d be great.” Ditch rubbed her eyes, and the child seemed perfectly content clinging onto Tank. She moved to the edge of the stage and sat down, letting out a curse word under her breath. “I would say four days of no sleep and only ramen is finally catching up with me.” She muttered quietly.
“Uh.. okay. Where was I? Game changing info. Yeah. So, um.. I was trying to figure out how Umbra’s abilities could help him to capture a person who can create illusions, the most powerful waterbender in the city, a girl with superspeed, and a twenty foot tall lava rock monster.
“He planned his attacks well, hardly any of them showed up on security cams, except for his latest plunder with Lava King. I hardly saw Umbra at all, he kept in the shadows good. Except, in one final moment, I saw.. I saw Lava King’s eyes. And unlike all the other times there were photos taken of that giant monster, they glowed. It was this light purple blue color, one I’d seen somewhere else.”
Ditch paused, glancing behind her, and then letting out a groan. “I.. didn’t bring my laptop. Never mind. I found this article, five years back, some guy --” She stopped, glancing back at the boy and Tank. The child had fallen asleep standing against Tank. All the crying and screaming had likely worn him out. Seeing as the child was asleep, Ditch went back to her story.
“He murdered his wife, eyes glowing that same color. But when the police apprehended him, his eyes stopped glowing, and all tests for signs of him being super came up as inconclusive. He was perfectly human.
“We knew Umbra wasn’t working alone, but I know his eyes don’t glow like that. They’re blue and green, not.. Light purple. And I know his powers don’t allow him to have control over others like that. He’s working with someone equally powerful. Someone who can control minds.” | DITCHLooks like you're stuck.Name:UnknownAge:UnknownGender:
UnknownFamily:In their first ever city-wide broadcast, Ditch has mentioned a father. (More to come IC.)Appearance:
No one knows Ditch's true face. If they ever broadcast their face, it's hooded with a skeleton mask. You can hardly even tell their gender, because they muffle their voice using audio software.Method of Operation:
Ditch has never been seen in the flesh. They are known to stop crimes through technology, and though it is unknown if they have superpowers, most assume. Any cyber crimes, or crimes that are committed through the use of technology, are almost always stopped by Ditch. Someone sending an email with launch codes? Never sends, deleted from the system. Bank accounts being drained by hackers? Oh, looks like your computer's fried. Every time they stop a crime, a message pops up on the closest tech item, saying, "Looks like you're stuck. -Ditch." Through doing this, the name Ditch has become very well known. Only once has Ditch broadcasted to every screen in the city, warning them of Umbra.Themesong:
Cigarette Daydreams - Cage the Elephant |
43,527 | 1,193 | 220 | 195 | 102 | The mood in the room seemed to have shifted into uneasy territory when the kid mentioned that he could communicate with ghosts. TB completely left the building, Wraith appeared to be on edge, and even Raven Tale seemed to be a bit fidgety. Manny didn’t really have any fear of ghosts, but it looked like a few in the group had things that were haunting them.
So, I guess that settles the question about his powers...but why would Umbra need a kid who can talk to ghosts? And how did he get away from someone as powerful as Umbra?
Just then, Tank stepped up to the plate to comfort the boy, despite his imposing size. Apparently, the big guy had a big heart to match and was able to win the boy’s affection. Manny smiled and gave him a thumbs up.
Finally, he calmed down...hopefully he stays that way. He might have some really valuable information on Umbra...plus, we gotta keep him safe and he won’t let us do that if he doesn’t trust us.
When the boy had released Ditch and she moved to the edge of the stage, Manny looked down at what remained of the bracelet. He scooped it up as Ditch finally explained the reason she called them all in the first place. His expression dropped at the mention of mind control.
Was he using mind control on the boy? This is just keeps getting worse…
Manny got up and walked to the edge of the stage, patting Tank on the shoulder when he passed. He hopped off and stood next to where Ditch was sitting.
“I hope since you know that we’re dealing with mind control that you also have come up with a way to fight against it.”
Manny held the bracelet out to Ditch.
“Also, if the kid was aware of wearing this thing, maybe it doesn’t have much to do with the mind control. I could be wrong, but that’s just a thought. Perhaps we can study it.”
He quickly closed his hand and held the bracelet in his pocket.
“But only after you get some rest. I heard you say that you haven’t slept the entire time that we’ve been away, and as the person who had to walk you back to HQ...I’m not gonna let you work yourself to death.” | Name: Manhattan McClain
Quote: “And who’s gonna stop me? …You?”
Alias: Omega
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Family: Mother - Sonya (super); Father - Richard, older brother - Ellis (non-super)
Occupation:
Coming from a family who manages their finances pretty well, Manny makes his money work for him, giving him time to train most days. He does, however, help his father with his construction business quite often, taking care not to reveal their relation.
Appearance:
Manny is 5'9” and about 185lbs. He has a muscular build but isn't massively buff. He does like to show off his arms, so most of his wardrobe is short sleeved or sleeveless.
His ‘hero’ wear consists of a black jumpsuit (loose like clothing, not tight like a leotard) with no sleeves and a large cowl neck; a tank top under the jumpsuit (varying colors); fingerless gloves the same color as the tank top; a leather belt; black boots; and aviator goggles.
Method of Operation:
His home base is in a secret location, but he can usually be found cruising the rooftops, surveilling the city from above. He has enough cooperation with the authorities that he hasn't been arrested yet. Since he can easily take out larger groups, he usually looks out for gang activity.
Superpower:
Gravity Manipulation
Manny can alter his own gravity or the gravity of a given area, the largest being about the size of a school gymnasium. He also uses a few gravity-based attacks. Specific abilities include:
Upforce/Downforce: decrease/increase the effect of the planet's gravity in a specific area
Force Push/Pull: repel/attract objects using force (precision is somewhat limited)
Concussive Blast: emit a burst of force in single direction
Zero Point Gravity: can attract all matter within a small area to a single point in space
Personal Gravity Manipulation/Gravity Aura: can alter the effects of gravity on himself enhancing his jumping ability, allowing him to walk on walls/ceilings, and giving him levitation and gliding abilities (though he can't technically ‘fly’). He also uses this power to land harder strikes when fighting and repel things like bullets (he has to be consciously doing this; he's not bulletproof).
Manny is limited to the amount of alteration happening at one time. This includes area of effect, the strength of the alteration, and the amount of time the area is affected.
Reckless use of his power can also cause a good bit of collateral damage, so he has to be careful when affecting the gravity of something other than himself.
Skills:
Since his vigilante work involves frequent contact with bad guys, Manny has become a skilled fighter. He trains at several different gravity levels and, at times, with weighted clothing. He also has very good parkour skills. Also, thanks to his father, he knows a good bit about construction.
Equipment:
Aviator goggles - altering gravity can sometimes loosen up a lot of floating particles
Music player - never goes anywhere without his music
Bulletproof vest - for days when he's feeling particularly unlucky, but he's not always wearing one (he goes up against a lot of gangs)
Personality:
Being born a super has given Manny a thick skin when it comes to negativity. He doesn't let many things bother him and humbly recognizes his superiority over humans. He understands the human disdain for supers: some are jealous, some scared, others are just put off by the abnormal. As a matter of fact, he has a certain animosity himself for supers who misuse or abuse their powers. Jeopardizing innocent lives is wrong no matter what a person's genetic code happens to be.
Manny likes adventure and exploration, and living in Millennium City ensures he's never bored. Having powers gives him freedom from a normal human lifestyle and using those powers for good gives him a sense of purpose.
When faced with a challenge, he is confident in his abilities but still errs on the side of caution. He knows how to stay level-headed in most situations, seeing panic and doubt as surefire ways to fail.
Manny tends to keep people in the neutral zone until he sees their true nature. He prefers independence, but still cooperates with others if necessary. He likes to crack a joke or two, whether or not the humor is appreciated. Since Manny has earbuds permanently attached to his head, he tends to quote a lot of lyrics and sing/hum to himself.
Biography:
Manny grew up just outside Millennium City. His father, Richard, owns a construction company which started locally and moved into the city when business grew, and his mother, Sonya, works at the local children's hospital. His parents met in high school and married soon afterward. Sonya revealed her power to Richard a little after they got engaged which she was certain would drive him away, but he was only upset that she hadn't mentioned it sooner. This may had only been because she had a ‘good’ power, but to this day, he claims that it was because of ‘true love’. His mother has the ability to physically heal people with her singing voice.
Sonya had to pretty much beg for children, the second being an easier sell because the first didn't have powers. Richard's human genes apparently dominated in Manny’s older brother, Ellis, so Manhattan is the only child of theirs with powers. Growing up, Sonya helped Manny develop his powers while always urging him to keep it to himself. He didn't quite understand why he had to be so secretive when his mom used her powers for work, but she always told him he would get it one day.
When ‘one day’ came, Manny was in his late teens and he decided to pack up his things and move into the city. His parents reluctantly let him go, reminding him that the city was dangerous even for a super, and especially for a teenager, but they couldn't change his mind. He needed a place to freely explore his powers, and he promised to never get his family involved or even reveal his relation to them (in case he gained some enemies).
Manny took to the city pretty well and spent a lot of time exploring, but he didn't really get serious about being a vigilante until his brother was injured in a fire caused by a pyrokinetic. Ellis ended up trapped underneath some fallen rubble, and even though Manny was able to rescue him, Ellis was paralyzed from the waist down and confined to a wheelchair. At that moment, Manhattan dedicated himself fully to ridding the city of crime and finding the person responsible for his brother's injury.
Theme Song:
Weapons of Mass Distortion - The Crystal Method
Relationships:
TBD
Extra:
We...are not...normal. |
43,528 | 1,193 | 221 | 1,331 | 353 | Wraith
It took Wraith a minute to realise that she was being spoken to. She looked at Reaper, shaking her head. "No. The place was pretty much dead, nothing but rats. Whoever left that thing is long gone. Best case scenario, they don't come back today." she looked at the ground, a dark look crossing her face. "Worst case scenario, the dogs have run off to tell their master, and they're gonna come back with a few friends soon enough."
Wraith's worries were only growing as time passed. The longer they took here, the longer they spent trying to help this kid, the more likely it seemed that someone could come knocking. She didn't feel like trying to take on some of the supers on Umbra's side. While she was confident in her abilities, taking on people like Lava King wasn't suited to her fighting style. She wasn't in the right state of mind to fight right now, anyway. She glanced over at Tank and the ghost kid, who seemed to be comforted by the big guy.
Honestly, the kid's abilities were freaky. Not that any abilities were normal, exactly, but his creeped her out. If Umbra's minions burst in, she had to admit that part of her would consider leaving the kid behind. Sure, that would probably make her a bad person, but she hadn't asked to be caught up in a rescue mission. It wasn't her job to cover for others' mistakes. Or maybe it was. What did I sign up for?
Anyway, Ditch finally seemed to be getting to the point, to Wraith's relief. Once she'd heard the old thing, she couldn't help but feel a little doubt about the idea of taking on whoever was working with Umbra. Mind control was tricky to deal with, and that was putting it lightly. It was also one of the few powers that she was actually afraid of. The idea of someone rooting around in her head made her skin crawl.
She found herself with nothing to say. Well, almost nothing. She had plenty of things to say, but most of them would start up a confrontation which no-one needed right now. As Omega offered help to Ditch, Wraith just barely held her tongue. She'd slightly forgotten that her mask was off, and her expression was much easier to read than normal, and anyone that looked could probably see her irritation and slight anger at the whole stupid situation.
Wraith sighed, walking over to her bag. She supposed that she should try to be useful, or make some kind of suggestion, but she felt like she'd do more harm than good by speaking right now. Eventually, though, she couldn't keep her mouth shut. "So, do we have some kind of plan? Or are we just gonna sit here playing babysitter and wait for whoever left that bracelet to turn up?" she said coldly. "I don't know about you guys, but I don't feel like staying here and wait for a bunch of mind controlled supers to beat my face in for the sake of some kid you found on the street."
Perhaps she'd been a little harsh there with what she'd said. She couldn't help it - the ghost thing had left her feeling a little jumpy, which made her a bit more hostile than normal. Call it a coping mechanism. Besides, she felt like what she was saying was true for the most part, and someone had to point out the problems with recent events without being so emotionally attached to things. Might as well be her job, seeing as most of these guys were apparently way too sentimental. How some of them had even got into this line of work, she had no idea. | Name: Kara Banks
Quote: “Real justice leaves nothing behind.”
Alias: Wraith
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Family: Older brother, Steven Banks Father, Carl Banks. Mother, Georgia Banks, Deceased
Occupation: Student
Appearance: Kara is shorter than average for her age, and has the lean, muscular build of a gymnast. Her facial features are slightly unremarkable, but she could be described as mildly attractive, with pale grey eyes and a light dusting of freckles across her nose. She has medium-length brownish-blonde hair, which she ties back into a ponytail whenever possible.
During her daily life, Kara almost always dresses casually in jeans, battered old sneakers and tank tops or t-shirts. She owns an embarrassing amount of hero themed t-shirts, most of them given to her by her brother every time her birthday or Christmas rolled around, or just whenever he wanted an excuse to annoy her. Secretly, she is quite fond of them, even the ones with the cheesy slogans, which could explain why she wears them so much.
When operating as ‘Wraith’, Kara wears a silver eye mask that covers the top half of her face, along with a dark grey jacket and black trousers loose enough for her to be able to move quickly. She always wears a pair of thick black gloves wrapped in barbed wire, designed to be completely waterproof due to the nature of her fighting style.
Method of Operation: Her fighting style is based on provoking her enemies into aggression, forcing them to lower their guard and leave openings for her to attack. Once her opponent is vulnerable, she can use her ability to directly attack their vital organs and end the fight before it properly begins.
If forced into a fight, she uses her ability to alter her density to be lighter than air, allowing her to take flight and making her a fast-moving, unpredictable target. When striking her opponent, she heightens the density of her fists as they hit her opponent, giving every impact much more force behind it.
Superpower: Kara can control the density of her body, allowing her to walk through walls, become lighter than air, or give her punches the force of sledgehammer blows. In combat, she uses her power to phase into opponents bodies and destroy their vital organs, or hit them with strikes that have a huge amount of power.
Her power has drawbacks, though. While increasing her density can allow her to become stronger and withstand more blows, her body can only take the strain for a limited time before she risks permanent bone or muscle damage. This also applies to reducing her density, as the strain put on her organs could lead to health problems or falling unconscious if used for long periods of time. This means she must use her power in short bursts to avoid being damaged.
Skills: Kara is a skilled actor, and does not hesitate to lie when the situation calls for it, and is able to be a very convincing diplomat. She is also a skilled gymnast, which lends her some strength and agility that she would otherwise lack and has gotten her out of a few sticky situations.
Equipment: Barbed gloves, designed to do maximum damage to internal organs. Small vial of poison that can be used on more durable enemies. Backpack to carry equipment and hide obvious evidence after fights.
Personality: To the outside world, Kara has a friendly, outgoing personality. She surrounds herself with people who are kind and caring, making friendships easily with a hug and a beaming smile. She is, for all intents and purposes, a model student, the type of person that you would expect to make it out in the world and live a happy, normal life. She seeks out others like her, who are held up on a pedestal to others and surrounds herself with them. However, if they are seen as doing wrong, or harming someone else, then they tend to disappear.
In reality, behind the façade of warmth and friendliness that she puts on, Kara has an obsession with justice, whatever the cost. No matter how small a grievance, how petty the crime, if she witnesses someone doing wrong, then she marks them in her mind and obsessively tracks them down to deal out her version of ‘justice’. Still, she seems to almost enjoy it, always thinking that she is in the right, no matter what the circumstances.
She dislikes heroes, and the way that they attempt to save the day by bringing villains to justice. As far as she is concerned, if the villain responsible lives, then justice has not been done.
Biography: As a child, Kara was always liked by those around her. She grew up in a happy family of normal people, completely unaware of her powers, and was closer to her mother than anyone else in the world. They would sing and dance in the park, go to the theatre, and she would be supportive of everything Kara did. The first time she decided to try out at the local theatre, her mother was the last person to count her out and the first person to give her a shoulder to cry on when she was rejected.
For sixteen years, she lived an ideal life. Her dad would come home, beaming after a good days work or excitedly waving a bonus and declaring that they’d be going on a holiday or buying a new car. Her brother, two years older, would smile and laugh and they’d sit and chat together, less like siblings and more like old friends. Sadly for Kara, it all came tumbling down. Her mother was murdered, with her the only witness. She was only able to survive because her powers activated, allowing the bullet fired at her to simply bounce off. Not understanding what was going on, she ran away.
After the murder, she was racked with guilt over what happened, over not being able to help. Her father and brother tried to help her, but it just didn’t seem to work. She recalled the way she had withstood the bullet, and realised that she had some kind of power. She began to train, and this was where she developed her obsession, vowing never to rest until every single person like this was brought to justice. At eighteen, two years of training later, this obsession drove her to buying a mask, and taking to the streets of the city as Wraith.
Theme Song: Amnesia- Miracle of Sound
Relationships: Not discussed
Extra: Who’s not normal? We’re not normal. |
43,529 | 1,193 | 222 | 1,284 | 117 | TURN BACK
After a tense few moments of attempting to regain his composure, Jason Graves turned around and headed back towards the abandoned theater. Hopefully his mother had heard his plea and the boy could get some rest. He slipped inside the building and headed over to the stage where the child seemed to have fallen asleep on top of Tank. Grabbing his discarded hoodie from the floor, Jason handed it to the large man, whispering to him as he tried to listen in to the current conversation. "Take this for him. I'm figuring out something slightly more permanent until we can sort this Umbra shit out."
He stepped closer to the crowd around Ditch, letting out a slow breath as he started to allow himself to get angry at the mention of mind control. Something about that rubbed him very much the wrong way. What rubbed him even worse though, was Wraith's comment about the boy. "Some kid? You mean the child who is, thus far the only person we know of who's escaped Umbra? The boy who was found alone, sick, and injured in the shittiest part of this city? Yeah, let's ignore him. Toss him back out on the street, why don't we? Do you have any idea what the homeless epidemic in this city looks like? How many people, how many families, how many children are alone out there? How many of them have to sleep on benches and beg for pennies?" He had walked closer now, his prosthetic hand clenched at his side. "I am not tossing that poor, innocent child back out into that godforsaken shithole we call home. You're right about one thing though, we do need a plan. If we go up against a mind controler without one, we're going to literally die." Jason was addressing the group now, though his eyes were still focused on Wraith. "And you're right about one other thing, we can't plan very well while we have to worry about the boy. That's why we need to find a place for him to go before anything else. I have a place, I'm willing to offer my home to him. It's not the Hilton or other fancy fucking hotel, but it's safe and warm and he'll have food and someone to watch over him. If anyone else has any ideas, I'm glad to hear them. But I think we have to take care of him first, and then deal with Shithead McMindcontrol." He turned away and focused his attention on Ditch, interested in what she had to say, but adding under his breath quietly; "Somehow I'm the one out us two with some goddamn human empathy, how the fuck does that happen..." | Name: Jason Grave
Quote: "Pain is temporary. Victory is eternal."
Alias: Turn Back or TB
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Family: Mother (Deceased), Father
Occupation: Office assistant
Appearance: Tall and lithe, Jason is what many would describe as lanky. He has above average strength for his size, but not of any surprising strength. His face is hard beyond his years, his brow in an almost perpetual furrow. His icy blue eyes seem to pierce into ones soul, and he keeps his black hair combed back close to his head. His left hand is a prosthetic, one of the new models that link to the users nervous system and respond in a similar manner to a real hand.
Jason wears business-type button-up shirts and nice ties for his day job, however once the sun sets it's a very different story. Jason changes from a 'mild-mannered' office person to a darkly-dressed vigilante. He wears a tight black shirt and loose-fit dark jeans. He wears a black glove on his right hand, and has steel-toed boots.
Method of Operation: Jason tends to leap into the middle of a fray, getting into fights with criminals at the drop of a hat. He often allows himself to be hit several times near the beginning of a fight, both to lull his opponents into a sense of security, and to build up his own power. Once he starts to fight back, he uses a folding staff to gather momentum, going for the head, the gut, the knees, any weak point he thinks he can exploit.
Superpower: Kinetic absorbtion and redistribution.
Jason has the ability to absorb and redirect and kinetic energy that he is aware of coming into contact with him. This manifests ina few different ways, as listed below.
Enhanced Stamina
By reabsorbing the energy expended while walking or running, Jason can go much further than the normal person without needing to stop for rest. This is not indefinite however, as some energy is lost with each step.
Limited Invulnerability
So long as Jason is aware of physical attacks made against him, he can absorb the energy of the blow without it harming him. This includes bullets.
Energy Storage/Redirection
Jason can store any kinetic energy absorbed within his body or any object he touches as excess potential energy, to be used as extra force. For example, if he is hit by someone, he can store the energy of that hit into his staff to hit them back with the strength of the staff, and the force they had originally hit him with.
Weaknesses
The energy conversion used by Jason is unstable, making any stored energy equally unstable. If he stores the energy for too long, it will begin to entropy, with explosively catastrophic results. This weakness enhances in both speed and power the more energy is absorbed. For example, the force of an apple hitting his head could lie dormant for weeks or months before detonating, but the power of a train could only be held for a few minutes. In addition to this, Jason is not immune to damage taken from unknown sources, he must be aware of an enemy in order to use his powers to defend himself.
Skills: Jason has learned how to fight, though not in any particular style. More the 'jump and run' tactics young gang members often use on the streets, with the major exception being: Jason doesn't run.
Jason has an above-average understanding of technology, and can familiarize himself with a new computer quite quickly.
Jason is a mediocre baseball player.
Equipment: Folding staff, tucked into a back pocket. Cell phone. Steel-toed boots. A handful of metal nuts
Personality: Jason is often cold upon his first meeting. He keeps very professional and businesslike, often not exchanging many words at all. Once he begins to warm up to a person however, another side of him comes out. Jason will begin smiling and joking more, enagaging in conversation and sharing stories of his life. He doesn't have many people he would consider a friend, but those he does he would give his life for.
Enemies, on the other hand, see a completely reversed Jason. They see someone who will sit and take a beating, any punishment they can dole out while laughing in their face. Criminals know fear as Turn Back begins to taunt them as he gets up and uses the force of their own blows to beat them senseless. Those who seek to do him harm see a cold, hard face with an icy stare before a booted sole darkens their vision, sometimes for the last time.
Biography: Jason was born into a poor immigrant family from Europe, who wanted nothing more than to see their boy become a famous American baseball player (Which is, of course, the American dream). His life was dominated by the sport, from playing catch with his father in the back yard using stones when they couldn't afford a new ball, to joining a local little league team as soon as he was big enough. Jason't family had always been low on money, but his mother and father managed to scrape together everything Jason needed for the team. Unfortunately, it seemed Jason was doomed to a life of mediocre sports talent. He never really shone on the field, making a few nice plays and a good hit here or there, but not reaching the standards his parents hoped he would.
Jason's life changed for the first time at the age of 12. During one of the final baseball games of the season, he stood a bit too close to the plate in an all-planned effort to hit the ball with more force. His left hand was struck by the pitch, a fastball right to his knuckles, though Jason felt no pain. He soon forgot the incident however, until a week or two later, when his hand began to ache. Not able to afford a doctor, his parents looked at it, said it seemed fine, and wrapped it with soft cloth, to try and sooth the paid. Soon after, Jason's hand exploded in a flash of purple, the decaying energy from the baseball weeks prior finally taking its toll. The family was introduced to one of the facets of the 'American Dream'; privatized healthcare. The bills from the hospitals, all the tests done, and getting even the cheapest prosthetic they could find all but bankrupted the family. Each parents was forced to take another job just to survive, and that was when Jason's life changed again.
Late one night, walking home form work in an attempt to save money on bus fare, Jason's mother was jumped by a group of muggers. Desperately trying to defend her hard-earned money, she fought back against her attackers, who decided it was easier to simply pull a knife. Jason got the news before leaving for school the next day; his mother had been killed. This sent the boy's father into a spiraling depression, he barely ate or slept, and stopped talking to anybody at all. Jason did everything he could to help, but his father was left a broken shell of a man. Soon after, Jason swore vengeance on the criminals of his city, vowing to use his newfound powers to destroy the people who had taken both his parents from him and ruined his life.
Theme Song: TBD
Relationships: TBD
Extra: We are not normal. |
43,530 | 1,193 | 223 | 314 | 285 | The boy had fallen asleep finally, against their resident behemoth to boot. Seems that Tank was nothing but a big teddy bear to a distressed child, all soothing words and gentle reassurance. It was quite a feat, and Reaper was rather glad as her own powers began to settle; distressed children made Zoey antsy. However there was little to celebrate, as her feet began moving, pacing once more as Ditch’s explanation began to settle in her mind. The others seemed equally appalled with her little discovery.
How do you fight mind control?
Reaper doubted that Ditch had any more insight into how it worked considering she didn’t offer anything else up. That was all they had – the knowledge that Umbra had the deadly power under his command, somehow, not even the details of how! Just glowing purple eyes. Omega was right, however, that they needed to study the bracelet. Ditch looked dead on her feet on top of being soaked to the bone, so she doubted that would be done anytime soon, which left the next biggest problem in their face – being found out. Of course, the returning Turn Back and Wraith both had their own opinions, which quickly began to clash.
The vigilante raised her gloved hand to rub at her temples with thumb and forefinger as Turn Back’s voice rose in response to Wraith. She was crass, yes, but from what she could tell the other girl seemed fairly young – at least compared to the rest of them. Honestly, could they not go one night without fighting?
“Cut it,” Reaper finally snapped sharply, her teeth almost snapping shut on the last syllable akin to a snarling dog. “You’re both pretty.” Sarcasm dripped from every word before her black eyes went back to Omega, at the same time reaching down into her shadow. Her fingers dipped into it, grabbing fabric from the pile of forgotten coats so that when she rose again the hoodie was now in her grasp once more. She shook it out, focusing on Omega – or more accurately the pocket with the bracelet in it currently.
“And you both have a point – we don’t know who the bracelet belonged to, other than the kid’s reaction that it – or another copy of it – was familiar. If it was the boy’s I doubt it was a tracking device, at least a functioning one, since he looks like he’s been by himself awhile. If it was someone else’s we’re in deep shit, and I wouldn’t risk staying here to find out.” The elemental paused in speaking to pull her hoodie back on once more, flipping the hood back over her mask to once more shadow her face in darkness.
“I can have us another building to meet in within minutes. We can’t just leave the kid either,” Reaper grimaced, her jaw tensing briefly before she added on, “… So my home could be one we could meet in as well, as alternative to Turn Back. There’s space, and it wouldn’t be a strain to provide for a child or have any of you dropping in or watching him. I doubt he’d want my… supervision, considering.” She gestured down at her feet, where her shadows continued to curl about her legs almost lazily.
“But the decision has to be made soon.” | Name
Zoey KasimirQuote
--Alias
ReaperAge
23Gender
FemaleFamily
Father . Mother, passed. Distant family otherwise.Occupation
University student.Appearance
Standing at 6’1’’ Zoey is a rather tall woman, but thankfully isn’t so thin as to appear sickly due to her active lifestyle, leaving a fair amount of muscle packed onto her body. Her red hair is such a light shade that it almost appears to be orange, the strands falling straight down to her mid back, though more often than not she has bangs falling into her face. Said face has rather elegant, if harsh looking features made up of sharp, hard lines with high cheekbones and brows near constantly furrowed above her grey-blue eyes. Sadly this all adds up to Zoey having a natural ‘resting bitch face’, often appearing to be judging everything about you with a single glance.
Due to her upbringing nothing she wears makes her more approachable either, her casual wear often consisting of slacks and button up shirts or high brand sleeveless tops, and sunglasses she probably spent too much on. Zoey probably doesn’t even own a pair of jeans.
Well… except one pair. Reaper’s vigilante costume is made purely to be as non-conspicuous as possible, made up of simple loose jeans, gloves, and an oversized hoodie, all in black to match the theme of course. The only thing that really makes it stand out at all in a crowd is that if anyone glanced beneath the hood Reaper is always wearing a full head balaclava, the only openings being two eye holes – though even then her eyes are constantly blacked over anyway. No skin is on show, and due to the size of the hoodie it helps hide her gender as well.Method of Operation
Zoey is a vicious thing, and an equally dirty fighter. Since she’s often in mid to close combat she doesn’t hesitate to use cheap tricks to seal a victory, and often relies on surprise and brute strength to end a confrontation before it can truly begin. Due to the latter she isn’t highly known, though there are definitely enough whispers in the streets to gain attention. Thankfully no one seems to realize she’s a woman yet, between trying not to talk in costume and often slouching to further hide her features, which additionally puts less emphasis on her height.
Though, if it’s ever publicly found out that Reaper is a female she has so many cheesy lines ready to go.Personality
Zoey is rather bitter and sarcastic, despite trying to appear more elegant than she is. Even with her efforts to be aloof and untouchable she can be quick to fluster or anger if the right buttons are pressed, and will lash out. She’s pessimistic, and at times with her biting attitude can be a bit of a bully. Truth be told it’s rather accidental though, as Zoey is too preoccupied with her own problems to care about harassing others. She’s taken to finding distractions as well and can easily focus on something completely off topic, such as thinking ‘what would I say to this mugger if I did wear a spandex superhero costume?’ while completely jumping him.
Also, since she’s had everything provided for her Zoey is a bit loose with money. She knows every dollar counts, but what’s a bit here and there?Superpower
Zoey is for all intents and purposes a darkness elemental. The main part of being this elemental is that she can sense the same darkness in others; however no one is pure sunshine and rainbows so it acts more like a sixth sense of ‘beacons’ to people, excluding young children. In large cities it’s like being surrounded by a sea of these beacons all melding together into a gelatinous blob, only the particularly large ones such as murderers standing out in any capacity, and with concentration she can ‘separate’ those beacons approximately a block around her to pick out locations in the overall mass.
Were it only this Zoey might have her hands full with vigilante work, but thankfully that rather useless if constant part of her abilities isn’t what makes her a threat. Zoey’s specialization is the ability to solidify shadows to create things as needed, her ‘signature’ being claws made of darkness – stronger than her grip and farther than her reach. However she can also form them into other things, such as barriers that would be too weak to do more than slow a bullet but would solidly stop a body if she’s fast enough. Her father as another example could use a shadow as thin as a needle to perform minute details his hands were too large for. In terms of shadows Zoey can also perform a ‘shadowstep’ of short distances by stepping into or forming a large enough shadow to disappear into them to another. Obviously this power set is most useful at night when there’s less light sending her power source scurrying, but its’ not impossible to use them in the sunshine and light – just weaker. Even her own shadow can be used to an extent.
The last useful piece of her powers is that when concentrating, particularly in the heat of battle, Zoey feels no pain – which isn’t always a good thing as she’s as delicate as a normal human. Only her own logic at seeing her wounds would let her know when the time to retreat is, and leaves her paranoid of her back in particular.
Visually, as an elemental darkness tends to react around her. Sometimes her shadow tends to ‘wisp’ little tendrils of smoky black up and curl around her legs when she’s idle, or her eyes can be darkened to hide their color.Skills
Zoey learned sambo martial arts when she was younger, though never really put it to any real world use until recently. She does however keep quite fit, frequenting gyms or jogging through the streets. Aside from that due to hunting trips she’s quite patient when it comes to waiting for ‘prey’, and knows some trapping techniques as well as how to handle a rifle.
Zoey also has the fantastic ability to laugh at her own jokes and not feel self-conscious about it.Equipment
Mace – Yep, a bottle of ordinary mace. Zoey tends to forget about it since she’s so reliant upon her powers however.
First Aid Kit, including a mirror! – Because Zoey can’t feel pain until a scuffle is already over she always comes prepared in case she misses any deeper wounds, hiding a small first aid kit within the confines of her hoodie. It comes with a small make-up mirror stashed inside to check the extent of damage to her back when necessary. It’s better than wondering later on ‘why does my shoulder blade feel like dust?’Biography
As the first and only child to the Kasimir family Zoey was the pride of her parents’ life, and with their social status never had to want for anything. While both her parents came from upper class families their fortune truly came from her father, a talented surgeon who was rather highly sought after. He had a near hundred percent survivability on his performances, even the more dangerous ones, due to the least kept secret in his medical ward – Dr. Kasimir wasn’t a normal human.
It was within days after her birth that it became apparent Zoey took after her father, and in more than just his sharp features. He was of course overjoyed and Zoey started learning even before she could walk to use her powers, identical to his. Her mother was often playfully exasperated with her father, but for years they were a happy family unit. It was only when Zoey started school did she start to realize her life wasn’t perfect. She was six when the exasperation was no longer playful, and the affectionate whispers her parents shared with upturned lips turned to harsh accusations and clenched teeth. Though they held on as long as they could to their marriage, at least for the sake of their daughter, the escalating disgust was coming to its very inevitable conclusion.
Yet it never came to that, but Zoey feverently wished that it did.
It was around when the ‘divorce’ word was finally being vocalized that the route was violently derailed. An accident happened – Zoey’s mother had been out shopping when, out on the streets, she kneeled down to pick something up and lost her balance, falling in the path of an incoming vehicle. She didn’t even make it to her husband’s operating table. While Dr. Kasimir was briefly looked at due to their known impending divorce, it was obvious he wasn’t a part of it – the accident was even caught on surveillance camera.
Following her mother’s subsequent funeral Zoey withdrew into herself, much to her father’s concern. It’s what prompted him to dismiss a good portion of their staff and quit his job to fall back on their savings to spend more time at home with his little joy, his work no longer centerfold to his day. He taught her more about her powers over the years, immersed himself even in her school and taught her all about how important image was. When she was older they began having annual hunting trips where Zoey was taught how to track, to trap and most importantly just get to spend some time with her only parent. The hunting was scary at first, but as a darkness elemental as well her father had a distinctive beacon to her, which only became more pronounced after her mother’s death.
When it came time for her to start high school Dr. Kasimir finally returned to being a surgeon, though he signed Zoey up for sambo martial arts as well. His worry knew no bounds, he wanted his little girl to be able to take care of herself. He even got her to carry mace – something she let him know she found useless. They had powers, Dad. But he insisted, and she relented. Yet as his hours at work once more grew and Zoey grew more confident in her prowess is when the ideas started. Vigilantism. What better way to also use her abilities for good, like the man she looked up to? Her grades were decent, but definitely not enough to follow in his footsteps and be a surgeon or anything. It was a whimsical and surprisingly optimistic thought, and before long Zoey found herself sneaking out and beginning to foil purse snatchers and muggings in the underbelly of their city. Well, what few there were anyway – Zoey lived in a good neighbourhood in a good city. She found herself getting more and more into it despite a lack of activity, soon looking through back logs of crimes by sneaking into the local sleepy precinct via her shadowstep and going through cold cases.
It was going through these that she came across the box – Kasimir, A.. Her mother. Figuring at first someone filed it wrong it still sent an ache through Zoey, and it was morbid curiosity that had her slowly taking the box and opening it. It was there, scrawled in the pages of an old notebook that Zoey found out why this box was in cold cases. Turns out it was a misfile due to some loose notes scrawled at the top, yet one in particular stuck out to her.
‘On video victim appears to have been yanked forward’.
It was such a small thing. Obviously it went no where, there was no one around to yank her forward – it was even on video so the half-hearted scribble was discarded. On video. A video sitting in the box, dusty and unseen for years. Something Zoey never wanted to see in her life if she could help it. And one, stupid, mistaken note had her taking it out to see for herself.
As soon as the video started Zoey knew it was a bad idea, but like a train wreck couldn’t tear her eyes away. When her mother kneeled on the sidewalk to pick up her dropped wallet Zoey knew exactly what was coming and finally averted her gaze from watching her mother’s expression on the grainy video as she pitched forward. That’s how Zoey saw it.
Rewind. Watch. Rewind. Watch. Zoom in – the grain stayed but so did the darkening pixels around her mother’s wrist in the old surveillance video. As Zoey’s mother grabbed onto the wallet that had fallen just off the sidewalk something barely seen wrapped around her wrist, and from the motion of her body pulled her forward. It was such a tiny detail, it was no wonder no one picked up on it – most would probably even dismiss it as bad picture quality. It was impossible for anyone to have pulled her forward after all.
Anyone except someone who had the ability to solidify shadows.
Denial set in quickly, and as quick as Zoey could shove everything back together and back in place she was out of the precinct – and out of the city. The constant shadow stepping had her exhausted but she ended up in the grounds her father took her to every year. Hours after the sun went down he found her, and despite all the denial, the rationalization, as soon as Zoey saw him it came pouring out. A slew of vile words, accusations, he lied to her, but most of all one burning question.
“Why?! What was the point?! What – did you want to bang another woman? She was your wife! Was it money? She was going to divorce your crazy ass and take half of your precious fortune-“
“She was going to take you away from me.”
No denial. No softening. Just a simple fact that took the wind from Zoey’s sails and left her gaping at him. What do you even say to that? What can you say to that? There wasn’t a happy ending to this tale. He had asked her what he could do to fix this, to make her happy – and she told him nothing would make this okay. So Dr. Kasimir did the last thing he could, and gave his daughter justice. The next morning he had turned himself in, admitting to what and how he murdered his wife. There was only one thing he was adamant about – he was the only one in the family with these abilities.
Unable to stay in her family home with all the bittersweet and corrupted memories Zoey found herself applying for university across the country and subsequently moving on getting acceptance. As the new head of the Kasimir family it was easy after all. For a few years she kept her head down, didn’t show her powers and almost grew to resent them. More than that she grew to resent this damn, corrupted city with its rampant crime and she grew to resent the rush she got the first time she stepped in to help someone again.
It’s what Zoey always wanted, after all.
Nearing the end of her degree Zoey is finally back into vigilantism. She couldn’t stay away from it in this city. Here though there’s no precinct trawls needed, as Reaper finds crime whenever they go looking. Subtlety is needed, of course – who else in this world is a known darkness elemental? Confidentiality is key.
Which is why Zoey finds herself considering outright bolting from the city as her mouse hovered over the delete button of her email, looking at this message from the infamous Ditch. Why risk her identity? Why risk anything when it’d be so easy to pick up and leave?
Well, maybe it was time to redeem the darkened path.Theme Song
Money - Mystery SkullsRelationships
None currently.Extra
We’re not normal, that’s for sure. |
43,531 | 1,193 | 224 | 311 | 56 | Eric zoned out at the part he heard Mind Control. He wasn't really worrying about ghosts, because.... yeah.
Although he was not quite sure if he was considered dead, or just some sort of apparition while spectral.
Mind Control though, that is a very serious problem. Ecto did sometimes take control of other peoples movements, but their minds... There was something perverse about making people want to do what you wanted, forcing your thoughts on them. Poor kid. Worse that that, no-one on the team possessed anything like that.
"How would we even counter a telepath? Should we put on tinfoil hats? Or go around finding someone who has mind powers? Ditch?" He glanced at her. She looked dead tired.
Wraith asked the same question, albeit a bit more harshly. Maybe a bit too harshly. Which was a bad idea, considering that the team is not a big fan of apathy.
TB called Wraith out, unsurprisingly. He seems to be on edge, he is taking this thing to heart. I wonder why...
But before things could escalate, Reaper cut in.
"I can have us another building to meet in within minutes. We can’t just leave the kid either..."
Eric raised his hand.
"I don't wanna be a party pooper, but unless someone has any idea how we could handle mind control, maybe we should... call it a night? Get some rest and think things through, you know." | Name: Eric Engelson
Quote: Well... crap.
Alias: Ecto
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Family: Fathers: Isaac Engelson, Liam Engelson (Surrogate Mother: Jane Woods)
Occupation: Online Translator
Appearance:
Eric is in the middle of his twenties, with dark hair and green eyes. He is around 5'10", and although he was considered quite lazy, a few years ago he started working out to boost his endurance, so his physique is just above average. He usually wears comfortable street clothing, jeans and cargos, T-shirts and hoodies, complete with sneakers.
He doesn't have any special costume for his "night-time" activities, as his powers give him a distinct look on their own.
Method of Operation: The cautious approach was always more appealing to him, usually scaring the criminals away. His appearance and abilities make it easy to create the impression of a ghost, and criminals are less likely to strike up a neighborhood if they think it is haunted. He also enjoys slowly building up fear in his "victims", like haunting the TV in the house burglars are about to enter, or levitating an umbrella. But if every trick fails, he does not shy away from using force and subduing his opponents, typically with either beating them with a blunt instrument or making them headbutt something with his haunting ability.
Superpower:
Spectral Form : Eric is able to turn into a gaseous, incorporeal form, which allows him to fly and move through tight spaces, like a keyhole or a chimney, though he cannot enter areas that are sealed shut completely. He can shift between this form and his human body in about a second, and when he is in this form, he cannot be touched by anything physical - as it moves right through him -, but this true the other way around as well. This does not, however, make him invulnerable. His powers seem to be somewhat related to the element of air, and and is especially susceptible to it, but other non-physical attacks can also hurt like hell.
Partial Shifting : He can manifest certain parts of his body to grab hold of objects, but the corporeal parts of him are completely defenseless, unless grabbing something that would provide protection.
Spectral Healing : While in the Spectral Form, Eric slowly heals from the wounds he suffers, although this has it's limits, and can leave scars. In any case, it stops a wound from getting worse.
Haunt : Eric can take control of objects that are not bigger than him, forcing himself into them. This allows him to move or levitate around in a rather sluggish way, but can be effective when haunting, for example, a baseball bat. Physical damage to the object also hurts Eric, so it’s not worth haunting something that can be easily broken.
Haunting can also be used to take limited control over others, as someone wrestling against the haunted person. This can be overpowered by sheer strength though, and can slow strong opponents at best.
Skills: Due to his upbringing, Eric knows multiple languages, including German, Spanish, and Russian. He also studied piloting to learn about currents and basic flight physics, since he can be affected by the wind. His fighting style is closest to the "whack it until it's down" technique, he started practicing aikido and krav maga to be more efficient.
Equipment: Since the Spectral Form does not extend to clothes or equipment, he goes to the field basically naked. It would be nice to find a way not to appear in his birthday suit when shifting back.
Personality: Eric is prone to cynic joking, and likes irony. He can be sincere and serious as well, but he finds it easier to brush things off with a stoic remark. He is disappointed in humanity, as what he often sees is that man is a wolf to man, and everything is run by corrupt bureaucrats, who are consumed by greed. He believes that although there could be so much potential in people, it is squandered by selfishness and apathy for others. He doesn't like to be in the spotlight, as he has witnessed power and popularity corrupting people. He also dislikes taking responsibility, but reluctantly does so by using his gifts to better the streets, to soothe his conscience.
He disapproves of people who are what he used to be like, and feels shameful about his past as a couch potato. He regularly does cardio exercises to build up his stamina, and trains fighting techniques on his own not only to better his performance on the field, but as a way to "atone" for his laziness. He is likely to push himself past his limits, saying something gritty or just using the words "crap" a lot. This sometimes leads to injury, but since he can heal in his spectral form, he really doesn't care.
Biography: A son of a russian economist and a german engineer who moved to the United States, Eric had ha very easy way of learning multiple languages at a young age. He was also a bit of a geek, and got bullied in school, until he befriended a schoolmate who turned out to be a super with enormous strength. His name was Damien Reed. They were both huge comic book fans, and although Damien was not allowed to use his powers in public, or reveal in in an obvious way, he told his secret to Eric, who practically worshipped him. They used to hang out a lot, playing video games and watching cartoons. Since Damien's power made him fit without breaking a sweat, he was also kinda lazy, but Eric was a normal kid and the lack of physical exercise and countless junk food made him overweight by his teenage years.
Though his parents were caring and supportive, they did not like their son getting fat on the sofa and sometimes made stinging remarks about Eric's appearance, but it was also painful when Damien was adored by all the girls, while Eric was ignored by the opposite gender. So he started working out, and Damien joined him for support (even though it was nothing to him). This would soon turn into short sessions that turned into more chilling.
Time went by, and when went to different colleges and saw each other less and less. After a year into his studies, he saw some news about a superhero on the streets, rounding up criminals and smiling for the camera in the meantime. He recognized him as his best friend. When he called him about it, he admitted with pride that he has officially started his superhero career. Eric found the news fantastic, and proposed to be Damien's sidekick, but he politely declined, reasoning that this was dangerous for "normies", especially for ones who are out of shape. This made Eric finally snap from his lazy ways and work out in earnest.
But while he was losing weight, he saw his friend gradually turn into (or maybe revealing himself to be) a conceited braggart, who loves to dominate the scene. And that was BEFORE he became a corporate tool who started working for the mayor's office as a glorified enforcer. Since he was always "busy" they slowly stopped talking.
One night Eric was going home from a jogging session, while he ran into an armed robbery: two men were robbing third who was drunk after partying. Eric decided to step in, and ended up getting stabbed. While the assailants ran away, he stumbled into a corridor and collapsed from the blood loss. When he came to himself, everything was different, and felt the pain slowly go away. When he looked down, a pool of blood stared back at him, soaking a lying figure on the ground. When he looked at himself, he was floating, all blue and transparent.
"- I'm... I'm dead? Well... Crap. God dammit."
At that moment, he fell to the cold pavement, completely naked, as his usual self. That's when he realized that the figure on the ground were only his clothes, empty of any wearers.
"- I...guess not."
Cold and confused, Eric hastily dressed up in his bloody clothes and ran home. When in his house he threw everything into the washing machine and examined his wound in the mirror. It was a nasty cut, but not as deep as a full stab should have been.
"Okay, let's try this again." He concentrated, and after a short while he turned into his ghostly form once more. He could see the wound slowly, gradually get smaller and smaller healing itself.
"Groovy." This is when his life really began.
Relationships: TBD
Extra: We're NOT normal. |
43,532 | 1,193 | 225 | 468 | 617 | Mind control? Rising her head to listen, Raven moved closer to the group. No wonder, she heard that the scene of the crimes Umbra caused had damage sometimes yes, but it never sounded like there was enough of a struggle.
She found herself biting her thumb, listening to the child sleep on Tank. It was one problem after another. Than again thats what this life was all about, problems and having to fix them. Even if it was going to kick their ass in the process. Least it can be a story to tell at a party one day.
"We'll have to figure out how it works, is it done through sound? Touch, sight? An object maybe? You can't just take control of someone's thoughts without a connection." Oh how she hoped it was through sight, like the basilisk. If Umbra had control over minds through sight than she would be in the clear, can't make her see a thing no matter how much one can torture her.
She felt a stab of guilt at the thought though. What about her team mates? She was thinking only about herself again. Ways to get out of a situation unscaled while throwing the other's under the bus. A sigh escaping her she listened to the others, Omega demanding Ditch get some rest, causing her to reach back into her pocket.
Yep, just as she thought. Banimen, horse muscle relaxor.
"Ditch if you really can't sleep, I have something that can knock out Tank if you need it." She won't lie, shes used the stuff to sleep before. When under major stress before a show or climbing out of a loosing round, she finds that a dab works. Shaking her head at the thought she shrugged her shoulders. "Its harmless.....I swear."
Another thing was the boy. What were they going to do about him? TB and Reaper offering, Raven began to think. "If he won't go with Reaper, I'll be willing to lend a hand, he'd probably feel safer with TB as I been seeing things. I don't mind paying for a meal or two for him. Can't let him stay with me, I live alone and am not fit to take care of a child by my self, so least I can do."
Hearing the rustle of fabric, she turned her head, to most it seemed she really could see half the time. Ecto going on about leaving and thinking, Raven tapped her cane. "So long as we know the little one is safe." | Name:Aurora Lorell
Quote:"One should never fear the dark. Just enjoy the light you have left."
Alias: Raven tale
Age: 22
Gender: female
Family: Father: Rick Lorell, Mother: Sarah Lorell
Occupation: Horse trainer and olympic rider.
Aurora is seen to be a beauty. With a lean build and fair skin standing in at around 5,2. Her eyes are what really set her apart besides the snowy form. Red and clouded as though in a veil of mist she almost always keeps them closed due to being bullied as a child. Many saying they are unnerving to look at.
Method of Operation: No one knows that its truly her. Those that have gained her help have only seen the creatures that she calls forth. Usually beasts from mythology that have few features. If shes forced to be seen she stays silent, trying to keep her age and gender a secret. If anyone found out who she was, the world would find out everything about her in minutes.
Instead she uses her tour as a way to keep her location foggy. Being a world and Olympic rider, she has been to all corners of the world. Each one earning a job or two from her. Her method of transportation is a horse she had conjured herself, what she sees as the only link one could give her. Still she reminds herself that she should never get involved with things too big, but the chance to use her abilities has always been too tempting.
Superpower: Aurora has the ability to conjure beasts from stories she has read or been told. Using a leather bound journal as a catalyst to recite the right lines to call forth her companions. She found that the larger impact a story holds to her, the easier it is to call her creatures. Though strange enough she has found that it is more difficult to create that which is already in this world. Being able to make a wraith she has massive difficult in creating a bird.
Many would think this ability is limitless. Sadly Aurora must read or hear the tale in which her conjure is being made from. Even than she can't always make them unless it had a impact on her in some way. Because of this she has a habit of asking others for stories. Any kind hoping that she could advance her abilities further.
Her biggest weakness is that this only works when she has a sound mind and when the book is open. Growing up taming thousand pound animals has made her difficult to frighten. But if she falls pray to fear, the companions she had called would turn on her. If her book is closed her train of thought would break, causing the creatures to disperse and leave her side.
Skills: an amazing horse back rider, her hearing is better than most. Memory is above average. Shes been told that her voice is rather calming due to her nature. Shes also had a good chance of catching a lie so long as it's spoken.
Equipment: Book of tales. Every story is written in Braille. Because of this she keeps it hidden from view and no one has yet to look through it's pages. If someone found out what was inside than the trail would be short in finding out that Aurora is the owner.
Personality: Aurora is a seeker of knowledge. Someone who needs to know things small and large. Heavy and light. This was due to the fact that she was born blind, growing up with being sheltered and lead around she found herself growing tired of the treatment quickly. Even though she would have a pilot smile when someone offers to take her hand or tell her where something is, she would find herself loathing on the inside. Wanting to be as independent as she can be. Pushing herself to be better at what she dose to prove to those around her that she dose not need her eyes in order to live her life. She thinks that many who help her do it not for herself, but so they could feel better. Thinking that they would be a hero for a small moment, she can not stand the thought of being a tool used in someone's self need to feel important. And thus it has only added to her independence.
Yet even with the quite demands of independence, Aurora is a calming presence. Soft spoken shes not one to raise her voice. When it comes to her friends, she is usually the one to end a fight with words alone. Comforting others when they are in need not using sayings of encouragement, but sitting at their side in silence.
She had an interesting habit though. When in good company she tends to speak in riddles, thinking that it's due to the stories she obsesses over, she tries her best to keep it under wraps. Even so, those who she calls friends will tell her she slipped back into her odd way of speaking.
Her greatest fear is being in absolute silence, she also tends to tap her finger on her cane. Sound is her greatest asset and without it she turns into a shell of her usual self. Fumbling over words and sometimes not able to use her powers safely.
Biography: Aurora was born into the business of horses. Her father a trick rider and her mother a cross country racer, the two were a power house in the horse world. Before she was even born they were getting her ready with what style and what horse she would ride, only for their dreams to be crushed when they saw her for the first time. A tiny albino who's retinas never even developed leaving her blind.
yet that did not stop the girl from living up to her family's potential. She became connected with the animals that her family made a living from. Every fall she went through, she would stand from, no injury would ever scare her away. The feeling of power a horse would give was too great to leave. Where in any other situation she would be led around and treated like a child. In the arena she was expected to handle things herself and for once she herself could be the leader. At age six she was competing in not only trick riding, but cross country and dressage.
Having a love for the stories that her mother would read her. Aurora began to print Braille in her own journal, often reading them out loud to her horse. After all, he was the only one that could deal with a 13 year old speaking for hours at a time. Sleeping in the stalls with her books clutched in hand the journal only grew thicker, and heavier. Till eventually the words she recited caused the animal to spook. Thrashing in the box and causing her to scramble out, screams of rage and fear ringing through the stable.
Before she knew it her parents were at her side, asking her what was wrong yet whatever had caused the damage was gone. Again and again it had happened, each time with her reading. Its taken her two full months to find out that the cause of her horse’s spooking was the conjuration of creatures from her own words.
Her own abilities.
Another idea that she could gain independence she began to work. Conducting experiments to figure out the rights and wrongs of her abilities. Its taken her years to find things out on her own. By the time she was 17 she was a competitor in the Olympics. Finally a chance where she was away from those who thought she needed them. All she needed was her book and her cane. Once walking through the stable halls at night. Checking her companion to make sure their first run in the Olympics would be fine. Yet as she opened the door she found something was wrong.
Her stallion named Beauty in a Shadow, was gone.
Her first thought was to contact the security to find him. Fear gripping her mind she could still remember the sweat that ran down her palms as she gripped her cane. Yet when she clicked it on the stone ground she made up her mind. Her book in hand she ran her finger across the pages. "With eyes made for night, and fire as fierce as a devil's light. He tracked down hunters of his land. And made them swear he could never stand." The sound of light feet pattering next to her she found a smile on her lips when the sound of a ragged fox was found at her side. To her eyes there was blank. Yet to anyone who saw it was a fox with two tails, told in Japanese lore to be the devil in a different skin, with eyes of lit green and a scroll strapped to it's back. "Find Beauty." It was all she said, and it was all she needed to. That night she took matters into her own hands as the fox lead her through the halls. Away from the stable and out to the parking lot to hear the half drugged screams of her stallion.
That night something snapped, she no longer used her abilities to gain a smile as she called forth a crimson wraith from the tale "a wife in the bog." The gut wrenching shrieks and screams rang true to her ears. the creature she chosen playing on their fear, having them see a different story as it led them away, leaving her stallion.
she never been so frightened for her horse in her life. Ever since she vowed to make sure that nothing like that would happen to another creature. To another ride, another person, so long as she could help it. She knew it was not just for others though, she never felt so needed until that moment. Like she could actually do something outside her own family. That she could accomplish something on her own. Its difficult for her still, not even her parents know about her second hobby. Her father even looks at those with powers in fear.
At age 18 she ended up moving out. She couldn't risk her family finding out that she was Raven's Tale. Shes done everything to keep that name down. To keep herself hidden so that they would never find out it was her. What if she gained a enemy? What if someone wanted her hurt and they found out that the one they were after was just a blind woman who lived alone?
She was living a dangerous game. And yet, even still as she told herself over and over again that she was playing with fire. She could not stop. The sense of power too intoxicating, the thankful words too well received. She still competes in competitions, but Aurora still finds herself with a smile on her lips whenever she would hear that someone was saved by a strange beast.
She just hopes that the day when she finds herself in deep water would come later. Much, much later.
"We are not normal."
friesian stallion who she named Loki as a barn name he was registered as Beauty in Shadow. He's the only living creature who knows Aurora has abilities. |
43,533 | 1,193 | 226 | 890 | 504 | Girard was pleasantly surprised when the boy felt comfortable enough to let go of Ditch and then come over to him after the story and cling to him instead. After Ditch had asked him to keep an eye on the little guy he loosely put an arm around the him if anything to make him relax a bit more while he looked up to see the others. He caught Omega's gesture with a return smile rather happy with the turnout though he could hear and feel the kid's breathing slow down, poor guy was probably going to fall asleep right there after everything that had happened which was fine for now. The big guy gave a quick nod to TB and once he was sure they're guest was asleep he lightly wrapped him up in the jacket and adjusted the kid so he was in his lap propped up against him.
He had been passively listening to Ditch talk about what she found, not to mention that she hadn't slept which was a little upsetting, but what was concerning was the fact they were now dealing with mind control and a pretty powerful employer by the sound of it. Needless to say it was not exactly well received by Tank who was particularly concerned for everyone's but his own well being mostly. The thought of ending up causing damage and injury to them or innocents and being unable to control himself just wasn't acceptable at all. After all he had more than idea of just how bad it could get if someone like him went off the rails for any length of time so he was all for having a plan to either at the least prepare for it, or if it was possible, negate it. Who knows if maybe that bracelet might be important later since it was the only other thing found besides the boy, he wasn't unaware of the risk of discovery but getting out wasn't the issue necessarily. The argument between TB and Wraith ever so slightly ruined the mood though he said nothing more willing to let Reaper speak her piece about how to take care of the kid than speak up not wanting to wake the boy up currently.
It seemed like there were two options as of yet with both Turn Back and Reaper stepping up though he didn't know how it would go either way. Girard wasn't sure how well he would be able to contribute all things considered because although his apartment and money wouldn't be an issue, his workshop would be mostly off-limits and his work schedule was only going to be consistent for a bit longer until the theater was done being renovated. Leaving the little guy alone for hours at a time and ending up having to stay quiet around the residents most of the time didn't sound healthy. With all of it reasoned out it would end up being between his team mates where he could go to stay.
He heard something from Raven Tale about something that could knock him out for sleep issues, he might later admit to being a little curious as to what the stuff was exactly. Also Ecto suggesting breaking up for now and getting rest which normally wouldn't be a bad idea but the little man had to be dealt with for the time being so that was that.
"I'd be willing to pitch in some money, don't think my place would work out in the long run so its up to you two I guess." Girard said quietly spelling out his position on the issue ending with a glance between Turn Back and Reaper. | Name: Girard Babcock.
Quote: Buddy I'd like to see you try.
Alias: Tank.
Age: 23.
Gender: Male
Family:
Mother-Ellen; Father-Deckard; Younger sister- May; Younger brother- Jeremiah.
Occupation: Construction and Demolition, he prefers the latter.
Girard stands at 6'8" and weighs upwards of 400lbs thanks to his power. He tends to wear whatever is comfortable normally whether
it be short sleeves and jeans or some other combo. When he becomes Tank a dark green bomber jacket, a black shirt underneath, with grey camo pants are his preference, tough/comfortable and plenty of storage, including a large military helmet with a face cover.
Method of Operation: Girard's method can be described as hit them fast and hit them hard or occasionally take everything they have on the chin and keep going. He has the patience to wait for the right time to charge in like an angry comet dispensing explosives if and when necessary. Once his controlled havoc has been unleashed he makes sure his target is down for the count before getting out.
Superpower:
Girard got the alias Tank from the supernaturally dense tissue in his body. He is easily capable of shrugging off most conventional weaponry and even plenty of non-conventional means of attack. He is also far stronger and heavier than he appears making him difficult to contend with in most situations. However, all this extra weight and size makes him quite slow most of the time and when he does get moving quickly he is very much at the mercy of his own momentum. While he might be practically invulnerable to a conventional attack, even a few powered as well, he still has a battery of things that can effect him like electricity, poison, and mental powers come to thought. His weight overpowers his strength to an extent making jumping or upwards motion far more difficult not to mention going through weak floors because of it. He tends to avoid large bodies of water really not wanting to sink like a rock before even trying to swim. Lastly, it often takes him awhile to lick his wounds if he gets particularly hurt because he has a lot more to hurt than most.
Skills: Girard knows how to take care of home life well enough, maybe not perfectly but it'll do. He has an engineering degree but enjoys getting his hands dirty working but he knows buildings well and if there were a structural weakness he would be the one to notice it. Explosives help in this endeavor and he has taken quite the shine to making his own for his escapades though he is very careful with them. He doesn't have any sort of combat training but he is a big man with more than his share of weight to throw around and he has gotten good at it.
Equipment: He brings multiple different homemade explosives and his get up but other than that he can improvise a weapon if he so needs it.
Personality: Girard tends to be a rather friendly guy mostly carefree. He will talk to anyone who will listen provided he has something to say or will listen to anyone if the subject is good. He tends to be careful and relatively peaceful but he is no gentle giant and if someone starts something it won't take him long to step in and give them what they have coming though he tends to hold back for their sake if it gets physical. He is far more concerned with other people than himself trying to help out where he can with a smile on his face mostly because he can. He is more than willing to work with other vigilantes though his forward style doesn't always mesh. He might have looked up to heroes at one point but to him its people like him and others who are willing to go further that really keep the criminals on edge.
Criminals are one of the few things that Girard detests and cleaning up the city one gang at a time is his way of dealing with it. He doesn't always expect much out of them but he fully expects them to try and surprise crime fighters so he values patience for keeping him out of trouble. For him there are no restrictions on what kind of activity to stop though some warrant less force than others which he is keenly aware of. Despite his approach to the bad element serious collateral damage is something he avoids whenever possible, no need to make it harder on the people and families who live in the city like him. He intends to protect and clean up the city to make it better for him, his family, and every good hearted person left in it.
Biography: Girard's parents met at a local diner in the city and had a few arguments before they really got talking but it was uphill from there and the two have been inseparable since. They managed to carve out a nice life by the time their first son was born and they were amazed when he was. While Girard wouldn't have fully developed powers until he was well into his teens they had an impact on his size from day one. He had a rather good life never much to complain about, his father also being quite a big guy and a short temper with troublemakers, warding off plenty of trouble with his siblings only making it better. If his parents weren't there he was looking after them and would continue to do so through his life seeing his family as the most important thing he had. His parents actually bought the diner and it did good for a while but continually less people came when some local gang members started targeting it driving people away as well as making life harder for the family. Girard now with some years under his belt found out most of them were around his age and being the guy he was intervened once roughing a couple of them up in the process to which they stopped coming for a bit but it wouldn't last.
The leader had taken particular offense to it, his cousin having taken a beating in the intervention, came back and put several shots through the diner's front hitting a couple patrons as well as his brother also grazing his sister who was nearby. It was one of the few moments Girard couldn't recall because he rushed out after them in a rage having no intention of them getting away. He probably should have know it would be a trap but there was little thought running through his mind when he walked into an opening in-between finding seven vengeful aggressors though only the leader had a gun. Girard admits he remembers very little of what happened but it ended very badly for the seven who tried with everything they had to bring him down only to find they couldn't because he was shrugging off pipes, chains, hell even the leader's pistol barely left a mark on him with repeated shots. After he reined himself in he got out of there to go and check on his family who were glad to see him alive after his pursuit. It was part of the reason he would later become Tank but for some years it calmed down.
His brother and sister recovered, his brother lost some range of motion in his left arm but he lived, but thing got back to being more normal if not more close between the family. It had occurred more than ever that Girard was something special and they told him that it was his choice how to handle his 'gift'. Of course he did his best to conceal if not so much hide it for a time not sure what to do but he would eventually seeing more and worse crimes as he got older. He couldn't let the horror that happened to his family just go on or show up else where especially not after one of his best friends nearly got mugged among other continued attempts on people he cared about or around him. Since then he has done his best to keep a good balance between being him and being Tank who is far less forgiving than him and has put more than a little fear into the cities criminal population. His efforts haven't been appreciated by all but even people who denounce the vigilantes have no bearing on him enough to make him stop. When he got the letter from Ditch he couldn't help but see the use in working together to take on someone possibly more powerful than all of them and he made his choice then.
Theme Song: Simple Man
Relationships:
Extra: We are not normal. |
43,534 | 1,193 | 227 | 469 | 141 | Ditch glanced at Manny, muttering something under her breath as he mentioned he hoped she had something to fight mind control. “Uh, sure. I did that and baked you a pie too.” She said with a sigh, reaching out to take the remains of the bracelet from his hand when he snatched it away, causing her to glare. “You’re not going to let me work myself to death, but you’re already waiting for more answers. Seems a bit contradictory.” She deadpanned, but despite Omega only truly trying to help, it sounded more like ‘fuck you’. Raven Tale was met with the same look.
“Both of you,” Ditch snapped alongside Reaper. “I don’t need any shit right now. Your hearts are in the right place but your mouths are not. There’s better ways to spend our time then bickering, and frankly, I’m going to fucking explode if you continue doing so.” Ditch stared Wraith straight in the eye. “Literally.” Then, Ditch spun around on her heels, facing Omega. “Five more minutes before bed, dad.” And then she spun back around.
“I know I just shoved a kid and a mind controller on you, but if you’re worried about this it’s gonna get a fuck ton worse. First of all, I don’t think this place is compromised. He had to have dropped the bracelet when I carried him here, and by his reaction I don’t doubt he was wearing it. Why he didn’t-” Cough. “Ditch it -- that was absolutely fucking necessary by the way - I’ve got no damn clue, but he would’ve been caught by now, and we would’ve been caught too. I think we’re okay.
“Second of all, the topic of this kid - whatever home we find for him, whatever he can tell us. He means something to Umbra and he’s escaped Umbra somehow, and that means we have info. Info in abundance, actually. If we earn his trust, any little thing he tells us will save days and days of research. It took me four days just to tell you Umbra’s got a friend. Four. Days. And I fucking hacked this city in three hours.” She sounded disgusted with herself, as if her search for info hadn’t been a success. It had, in certain ways. It was tough to find stuff like this; maybe she’d just been hoping it wouldn’t be something that was actually helpful.
Ditch stopped for a moment to regain her breath. She ran a hand through her long, drenched hair, collected it and wrung it out on the floor. Then she took her glasses out of her pocket, did her best to make sure the lenses weren’t wet, and put them on. She also took a moment to point at Ecto. “Yeah, why don’t we run from all our current problems and pretend as if there isn’t a megapowered serial killer running around with a mind controller and a glowy eyed kid in our laps. I think you can wait five more minutes.”
“If I can just -- maybe pinpoint the identity of one of his goons and track them back to his base -- or maybe I could.. God, I just don’t know where I’m going with this information.” Ditch said with a groan. “More and more questions keep coming up but I can’t ever find any answers. There’s no hard pattern in the people he takes or whatever he’s planning to do with them. He’s so damn well hidden it’s almost like he’s nobody.” Ditch paused, pulling a sharpie out of her back pocket and uncapping it with her teeth before rolling up her sleeve to reveal a bunch of watered down writing and pen markings on her arm, probably ruined from the rain. She muttered something that sounded like, “Fuck, I gotta get a notebook,” Before writing something down, something that traveled down the length of her arm, holding the cap between her teeth as she spoke next with a slight lisp because of it.
“About the kid again -- He can be here with me a couple hours if one of you wants to set up some temporary place for him,. I’m sure his parents or relatives are looking for him, I hope it won’t be too long before we find his family. I’ll try to look for them as soon as he gives me his last name, it shouldn’t be too difficult of a task. Hopefully he can answer a couple questions. I really think it'll help out.” She had hope for this child, it was clear; maybe too hopeful. | DITCHLooks like you're stuck.Name:UnknownAge:UnknownGender:
UnknownFamily:In their first ever city-wide broadcast, Ditch has mentioned a father. (More to come IC.)Appearance:
No one knows Ditch's true face. If they ever broadcast their face, it's hooded with a skeleton mask. You can hardly even tell their gender, because they muffle their voice using audio software.Method of Operation:
Ditch has never been seen in the flesh. They are known to stop crimes through technology, and though it is unknown if they have superpowers, most assume. Any cyber crimes, or crimes that are committed through the use of technology, are almost always stopped by Ditch. Someone sending an email with launch codes? Never sends, deleted from the system. Bank accounts being drained by hackers? Oh, looks like your computer's fried. Every time they stop a crime, a message pops up on the closest tech item, saying, "Looks like you're stuck. -Ditch." Through doing this, the name Ditch has become very well known. Only once has Ditch broadcasted to every screen in the city, warning them of Umbra.Themesong:
Cigarette Daydreams - Cage the Elephant |
43,535 | 1,193 | 228 | 1,331 | 353 | Wraith
Who the hell did this guy think he was? Wraith's face twisted in anger as she looked up at Turn Back. She knew she couldn't afford to blow up at him in the middle of the group. She'd get kicked out for one thing, and as much as she hated to admit it, she wouldn't last two seconds against them. Besides, he hadn't done anything to deserve violence. Yet. Still, she couldn't say nothing. She snapped at him, clenching her fists. "Give me a break, asshole. Who the hell do you think you-"
Before she could finish her retort, Ditch cut her off, with a glare that made her think stopping would be good for her health. It kinda looked like she was gonna go for the whole explosion thing, so she decided to stop herself from yelling at him. So, she decided to go for her second option. Better to at least pretend to be sorry. "Sure, whatever. Sorry, I guess." she looked at Turn Back, and shrugged, then spoke to him, quietly enough that no-one else would hear her.
"You think saving one kid, super or not, is gonna make it better? You can't save everyone, hero." she smiled pleasantly, and held out a hand for a handshake, though her eyes betrayed her cold anger. "That attitude is gonna get you or someone you care about hurt someday." she said, her tone casual enough to be discussing the weather. Her grin widened as she finished talking. "I just hope I'm there to see it."
With that, she picked up her bag and walked a little bit away from him to avoid any kind of retort. She looked at Ditch, muttering an apology and shuffling her feet awkwardly. "If you really think he'll be that much help, then I'm sorry. I'm just a bit on edge right now. All this talk of ghosts..." she shrugged, looking at the floor and hoping they'd believe her apology. "You can see why it'd freak me out, of all people, right?"
Of course, she wasn't really sorry at all. Well, part of her was. Maybe- No. If she allowed herself to open up, she'd be made weak, vulnerable. If Umbra had a mind controller on his side, then she couldn't afford that kind of weakness. She was stronger than that, stronger than them, strong enough to do whatever had to be done. If that meant kicking out the kid to help herself, then so be it. | Name: Kara Banks
Quote: “Real justice leaves nothing behind.”
Alias: Wraith
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Family: Older brother, Steven Banks Father, Carl Banks. Mother, Georgia Banks, Deceased
Occupation: Student
Appearance: Kara is shorter than average for her age, and has the lean, muscular build of a gymnast. Her facial features are slightly unremarkable, but she could be described as mildly attractive, with pale grey eyes and a light dusting of freckles across her nose. She has medium-length brownish-blonde hair, which she ties back into a ponytail whenever possible.
During her daily life, Kara almost always dresses casually in jeans, battered old sneakers and tank tops or t-shirts. She owns an embarrassing amount of hero themed t-shirts, most of them given to her by her brother every time her birthday or Christmas rolled around, or just whenever he wanted an excuse to annoy her. Secretly, she is quite fond of them, even the ones with the cheesy slogans, which could explain why she wears them so much.
When operating as ‘Wraith’, Kara wears a silver eye mask that covers the top half of her face, along with a dark grey jacket and black trousers loose enough for her to be able to move quickly. She always wears a pair of thick black gloves wrapped in barbed wire, designed to be completely waterproof due to the nature of her fighting style.
Method of Operation: Her fighting style is based on provoking her enemies into aggression, forcing them to lower their guard and leave openings for her to attack. Once her opponent is vulnerable, she can use her ability to directly attack their vital organs and end the fight before it properly begins.
If forced into a fight, she uses her ability to alter her density to be lighter than air, allowing her to take flight and making her a fast-moving, unpredictable target. When striking her opponent, she heightens the density of her fists as they hit her opponent, giving every impact much more force behind it.
Superpower: Kara can control the density of her body, allowing her to walk through walls, become lighter than air, or give her punches the force of sledgehammer blows. In combat, she uses her power to phase into opponents bodies and destroy their vital organs, or hit them with strikes that have a huge amount of power.
Her power has drawbacks, though. While increasing her density can allow her to become stronger and withstand more blows, her body can only take the strain for a limited time before she risks permanent bone or muscle damage. This also applies to reducing her density, as the strain put on her organs could lead to health problems or falling unconscious if used for long periods of time. This means she must use her power in short bursts to avoid being damaged.
Skills: Kara is a skilled actor, and does not hesitate to lie when the situation calls for it, and is able to be a very convincing diplomat. She is also a skilled gymnast, which lends her some strength and agility that she would otherwise lack and has gotten her out of a few sticky situations.
Equipment: Barbed gloves, designed to do maximum damage to internal organs. Small vial of poison that can be used on more durable enemies. Backpack to carry equipment and hide obvious evidence after fights.
Personality: To the outside world, Kara has a friendly, outgoing personality. She surrounds herself with people who are kind and caring, making friendships easily with a hug and a beaming smile. She is, for all intents and purposes, a model student, the type of person that you would expect to make it out in the world and live a happy, normal life. She seeks out others like her, who are held up on a pedestal to others and surrounds herself with them. However, if they are seen as doing wrong, or harming someone else, then they tend to disappear.
In reality, behind the façade of warmth and friendliness that she puts on, Kara has an obsession with justice, whatever the cost. No matter how small a grievance, how petty the crime, if she witnesses someone doing wrong, then she marks them in her mind and obsessively tracks them down to deal out her version of ‘justice’. Still, she seems to almost enjoy it, always thinking that she is in the right, no matter what the circumstances.
She dislikes heroes, and the way that they attempt to save the day by bringing villains to justice. As far as she is concerned, if the villain responsible lives, then justice has not been done.
Biography: As a child, Kara was always liked by those around her. She grew up in a happy family of normal people, completely unaware of her powers, and was closer to her mother than anyone else in the world. They would sing and dance in the park, go to the theatre, and she would be supportive of everything Kara did. The first time she decided to try out at the local theatre, her mother was the last person to count her out and the first person to give her a shoulder to cry on when she was rejected.
For sixteen years, she lived an ideal life. Her dad would come home, beaming after a good days work or excitedly waving a bonus and declaring that they’d be going on a holiday or buying a new car. Her brother, two years older, would smile and laugh and they’d sit and chat together, less like siblings and more like old friends. Sadly for Kara, it all came tumbling down. Her mother was murdered, with her the only witness. She was only able to survive because her powers activated, allowing the bullet fired at her to simply bounce off. Not understanding what was going on, she ran away.
After the murder, she was racked with guilt over what happened, over not being able to help. Her father and brother tried to help her, but it just didn’t seem to work. She recalled the way she had withstood the bullet, and realised that she had some kind of power. She began to train, and this was where she developed her obsession, vowing never to rest until every single person like this was brought to justice. At eighteen, two years of training later, this obsession drove her to buying a mask, and taking to the streets of the city as Wraith.
Theme Song: Amnesia- Miracle of Sound
Relationships: Not discussed
Extra: Who’s not normal? We’re not normal. |
43,536 | 1,193 | 229 | 890 | 504 | It didn't take long for Girard to realize just how much the exhaustion, the kid, and now arguing had taken out of Ditch. There really was no room left for a good mood when even the help was pressing a bit, though he figured some rest and food could solve that in a hurry. She did have a point about what information they had now in that it was just the tip of the iceberg which meant they all had a lot of work to do. Sure maybe the rest of them weren't as skilled at getting information or piecing things together but they could try if anything to lessen the pressure resting solely on Ditch as of yet. Would be more or less difficult for some of them to get info but if it came down to it someone could find at least something on or off patrol he hoped whether or not they knew where to look. As for the little guy it pretty much went down to who took up the call and the rest of them could pitch in from there to help him not just by money but maybe finding the parents who were likely worried out of they're minds.
Crappy situation but wouldn't be the first time any of us were in one, just gotta tackle it as best we can. The big guy thought not entirely sure where to start beyond getting transport for the kid once he woke up.
He noticed Wraith talking to TB after both Reaper and Ditch had shut them up and it didn't seem like a continuation so maybe they had cooled off. Would be for the better really because they couldn't afford to be at each others throats right now with all of the danger to come. It didn't have to be perfect but as long as they could operate without it devolving as much that would be enough for Tank. Hell the arguing among them could provide an opportunity that the mind controller could use, anger tended to be a distraction and if it was possible to resist by force of will alone there could be no distractions or things could get bad quick. It seemed like the younger woman was also not entirely together a few moments ago due to the kid but he could understand to an extent him not being excused of fault for having killed a couple criminals.
"Long as we keep our heads on proper the whole mind control thing might be less of an issue, just can't give them an easy time is all. Maybe the rest of us keep our eyes and ears open too in the meantime. Never know if something important might slip then we could have something to go on eh?" Girard said probably a bit more confident on the mind control front than he actually felt but the point was made.
If there was any chance in hell that they could find something for Ditch and the others to go off of it seemed like a risk that might be worth taking, them going after leads. | Name: Girard Babcock.
Quote: Buddy I'd like to see you try.
Alias: Tank.
Age: 23.
Gender: Male
Family:
Mother-Ellen; Father-Deckard; Younger sister- May; Younger brother- Jeremiah.
Occupation: Construction and Demolition, he prefers the latter.
Girard stands at 6'8" and weighs upwards of 400lbs thanks to his power. He tends to wear whatever is comfortable normally whether
it be short sleeves and jeans or some other combo. When he becomes Tank a dark green bomber jacket, a black shirt underneath, with grey camo pants are his preference, tough/comfortable and plenty of storage, including a large military helmet with a face cover.
Method of Operation: Girard's method can be described as hit them fast and hit them hard or occasionally take everything they have on the chin and keep going. He has the patience to wait for the right time to charge in like an angry comet dispensing explosives if and when necessary. Once his controlled havoc has been unleashed he makes sure his target is down for the count before getting out.
Superpower:
Girard got the alias Tank from the supernaturally dense tissue in his body. He is easily capable of shrugging off most conventional weaponry and even plenty of non-conventional means of attack. He is also far stronger and heavier than he appears making him difficult to contend with in most situations. However, all this extra weight and size makes him quite slow most of the time and when he does get moving quickly he is very much at the mercy of his own momentum. While he might be practically invulnerable to a conventional attack, even a few powered as well, he still has a battery of things that can effect him like electricity, poison, and mental powers come to thought. His weight overpowers his strength to an extent making jumping or upwards motion far more difficult not to mention going through weak floors because of it. He tends to avoid large bodies of water really not wanting to sink like a rock before even trying to swim. Lastly, it often takes him awhile to lick his wounds if he gets particularly hurt because he has a lot more to hurt than most.
Skills: Girard knows how to take care of home life well enough, maybe not perfectly but it'll do. He has an engineering degree but enjoys getting his hands dirty working but he knows buildings well and if there were a structural weakness he would be the one to notice it. Explosives help in this endeavor and he has taken quite the shine to making his own for his escapades though he is very careful with them. He doesn't have any sort of combat training but he is a big man with more than his share of weight to throw around and he has gotten good at it.
Equipment: He brings multiple different homemade explosives and his get up but other than that he can improvise a weapon if he so needs it.
Personality: Girard tends to be a rather friendly guy mostly carefree. He will talk to anyone who will listen provided he has something to say or will listen to anyone if the subject is good. He tends to be careful and relatively peaceful but he is no gentle giant and if someone starts something it won't take him long to step in and give them what they have coming though he tends to hold back for their sake if it gets physical. He is far more concerned with other people than himself trying to help out where he can with a smile on his face mostly because he can. He is more than willing to work with other vigilantes though his forward style doesn't always mesh. He might have looked up to heroes at one point but to him its people like him and others who are willing to go further that really keep the criminals on edge.
Criminals are one of the few things that Girard detests and cleaning up the city one gang at a time is his way of dealing with it. He doesn't always expect much out of them but he fully expects them to try and surprise crime fighters so he values patience for keeping him out of trouble. For him there are no restrictions on what kind of activity to stop though some warrant less force than others which he is keenly aware of. Despite his approach to the bad element serious collateral damage is something he avoids whenever possible, no need to make it harder on the people and families who live in the city like him. He intends to protect and clean up the city to make it better for him, his family, and every good hearted person left in it.
Biography: Girard's parents met at a local diner in the city and had a few arguments before they really got talking but it was uphill from there and the two have been inseparable since. They managed to carve out a nice life by the time their first son was born and they were amazed when he was. While Girard wouldn't have fully developed powers until he was well into his teens they had an impact on his size from day one. He had a rather good life never much to complain about, his father also being quite a big guy and a short temper with troublemakers, warding off plenty of trouble with his siblings only making it better. If his parents weren't there he was looking after them and would continue to do so through his life seeing his family as the most important thing he had. His parents actually bought the diner and it did good for a while but continually less people came when some local gang members started targeting it driving people away as well as making life harder for the family. Girard now with some years under his belt found out most of them were around his age and being the guy he was intervened once roughing a couple of them up in the process to which they stopped coming for a bit but it wouldn't last.
The leader had taken particular offense to it, his cousin having taken a beating in the intervention, came back and put several shots through the diner's front hitting a couple patrons as well as his brother also grazing his sister who was nearby. It was one of the few moments Girard couldn't recall because he rushed out after them in a rage having no intention of them getting away. He probably should have know it would be a trap but there was little thought running through his mind when he walked into an opening in-between finding seven vengeful aggressors though only the leader had a gun. Girard admits he remembers very little of what happened but it ended very badly for the seven who tried with everything they had to bring him down only to find they couldn't because he was shrugging off pipes, chains, hell even the leader's pistol barely left a mark on him with repeated shots. After he reined himself in he got out of there to go and check on his family who were glad to see him alive after his pursuit. It was part of the reason he would later become Tank but for some years it calmed down.
His brother and sister recovered, his brother lost some range of motion in his left arm but he lived, but thing got back to being more normal if not more close between the family. It had occurred more than ever that Girard was something special and they told him that it was his choice how to handle his 'gift'. Of course he did his best to conceal if not so much hide it for a time not sure what to do but he would eventually seeing more and worse crimes as he got older. He couldn't let the horror that happened to his family just go on or show up else where especially not after one of his best friends nearly got mugged among other continued attempts on people he cared about or around him. Since then he has done his best to keep a good balance between being him and being Tank who is far less forgiving than him and has put more than a little fear into the cities criminal population. His efforts haven't been appreciated by all but even people who denounce the vigilantes have no bearing on him enough to make him stop. When he got the letter from Ditch he couldn't help but see the use in working together to take on someone possibly more powerful than all of them and he made his choice then.
Theme Song: Simple Man
Relationships:
Extra: We are not normal. |
43,537 | 1,193 | 230 | 195 | 102 | Manny flashed an innocent grin as Ditch glared at him. Even though he barely knew her, he already figured out how to push her buttons. Raven’s offer of sleep meds was kind of amusing, too. Knowing that she was a rider, Manny figured it probably had to do with horses since she said it could level Tank. An image of their ‘fearless leader’ high on horse pills made its way into his head and he chuckled inwardly.
She may not like me keeping this from her, but if she actually does get some rest, she’ll thank me later.
When the scuffle broke out between TB and Wraith, Manny frowned a bit in frustration. The last thing they needed right now was even more dissension within the group, even if TB made a good point about Wraith’s disregard for the kid’s well-being. Manny figured it was just another case of her being young and self-centered, though even for her it seemed a bit severe. She’d remain on his ‘watch’ list. Thankfully, the argument was cut off by both Reaper and Ditch, and Wraith actually apologized for her actions.
That’s...kind of promising, actually.
Ditch started speaking once again, dismissing Reaper’s (and Manny’s) concerns about the hideout being compromised, and also informing them that things were expected to get worse. This particular comment didn’t necessarily come as a surprise considering who they were dealing with, but it was still quite unnerving to hear it spoken out loud.
When everyone started offering up their homes to keep the boy safe, Manny decided not to volunteer. His home was hidden and he wanted to keep it that way. He wasn’t just going to leave the kid hanging, though.
“I’m kind of on the side of Raven and Tank. I can’t provide an actual place, but I’m more than willing to pitch in and help wherever it’s needed. I’ve even got another medical contact in case Reaper’s guy gets, uh...busy. I mean, the kid’s injuries don’t look more than skin-deep, but you never know. His value as far as inside information goes is massive, as Ditch pointed out, so we gotta take care of the little guy. Heh, everything happens for a reason, right? We should take this as sort of a good sign.”
Manny looked down at the boy, watching his chest rise and fall slowly with each breath he took in his deep sleep. He had a soft spot for children and hated to see the little dude in such bad shape. Manny gave him a small grin, even though he clearly wouldn’t see it.
“As freaked out as we all are about the mind control, this kid might even know something about how it works. It’s a good idea for him to stay with Ditch for a bit, since he responds to her the best. Even the smallest bit of info will help for now.”
Manny put his hand back in his pocket, debating whether he should actually keep the bracelet from Ditch or not. Seeing how frazzled and weathered she was -- and also the writing all over her arm -- he decided to stand by his earlier statement. He sincerely hoped she would take his advice and rest up.
“And Tank makes a good point. We all need to be at the top of our game from here on out. As if it wasn’t already blatantly apparent, seeing how Umbra treated this kid shows how freakin’ ruthless he can be. Leaving ourselves vulnerable is the last thing we wanna do...especially since we’ve teamed up.”
Manny kicked up his feet and leaned back into a hover as if he were relaxing in an invisible midair lounging chair and put his hands behind his head.
“But, anyway...no need for me to keep being redundant…” | Name: Manhattan McClain
Quote: “And who’s gonna stop me? …You?”
Alias: Omega
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Family: Mother - Sonya (super); Father - Richard, older brother - Ellis (non-super)
Occupation:
Coming from a family who manages their finances pretty well, Manny makes his money work for him, giving him time to train most days. He does, however, help his father with his construction business quite often, taking care not to reveal their relation.
Appearance:
Manny is 5'9” and about 185lbs. He has a muscular build but isn't massively buff. He does like to show off his arms, so most of his wardrobe is short sleeved or sleeveless.
His ‘hero’ wear consists of a black jumpsuit (loose like clothing, not tight like a leotard) with no sleeves and a large cowl neck; a tank top under the jumpsuit (varying colors); fingerless gloves the same color as the tank top; a leather belt; black boots; and aviator goggles.
Method of Operation:
His home base is in a secret location, but he can usually be found cruising the rooftops, surveilling the city from above. He has enough cooperation with the authorities that he hasn't been arrested yet. Since he can easily take out larger groups, he usually looks out for gang activity.
Superpower:
Gravity Manipulation
Manny can alter his own gravity or the gravity of a given area, the largest being about the size of a school gymnasium. He also uses a few gravity-based attacks. Specific abilities include:
Upforce/Downforce: decrease/increase the effect of the planet's gravity in a specific area
Force Push/Pull: repel/attract objects using force (precision is somewhat limited)
Concussive Blast: emit a burst of force in single direction
Zero Point Gravity: can attract all matter within a small area to a single point in space
Personal Gravity Manipulation/Gravity Aura: can alter the effects of gravity on himself enhancing his jumping ability, allowing him to walk on walls/ceilings, and giving him levitation and gliding abilities (though he can't technically ‘fly’). He also uses this power to land harder strikes when fighting and repel things like bullets (he has to be consciously doing this; he's not bulletproof).
Manny is limited to the amount of alteration happening at one time. This includes area of effect, the strength of the alteration, and the amount of time the area is affected.
Reckless use of his power can also cause a good bit of collateral damage, so he has to be careful when affecting the gravity of something other than himself.
Skills:
Since his vigilante work involves frequent contact with bad guys, Manny has become a skilled fighter. He trains at several different gravity levels and, at times, with weighted clothing. He also has very good parkour skills. Also, thanks to his father, he knows a good bit about construction.
Equipment:
Aviator goggles - altering gravity can sometimes loosen up a lot of floating particles
Music player - never goes anywhere without his music
Bulletproof vest - for days when he's feeling particularly unlucky, but he's not always wearing one (he goes up against a lot of gangs)
Personality:
Being born a super has given Manny a thick skin when it comes to negativity. He doesn't let many things bother him and humbly recognizes his superiority over humans. He understands the human disdain for supers: some are jealous, some scared, others are just put off by the abnormal. As a matter of fact, he has a certain animosity himself for supers who misuse or abuse their powers. Jeopardizing innocent lives is wrong no matter what a person's genetic code happens to be.
Manny likes adventure and exploration, and living in Millennium City ensures he's never bored. Having powers gives him freedom from a normal human lifestyle and using those powers for good gives him a sense of purpose.
When faced with a challenge, he is confident in his abilities but still errs on the side of caution. He knows how to stay level-headed in most situations, seeing panic and doubt as surefire ways to fail.
Manny tends to keep people in the neutral zone until he sees their true nature. He prefers independence, but still cooperates with others if necessary. He likes to crack a joke or two, whether or not the humor is appreciated. Since Manny has earbuds permanently attached to his head, he tends to quote a lot of lyrics and sing/hum to himself.
Biography:
Manny grew up just outside Millennium City. His father, Richard, owns a construction company which started locally and moved into the city when business grew, and his mother, Sonya, works at the local children's hospital. His parents met in high school and married soon afterward. Sonya revealed her power to Richard a little after they got engaged which she was certain would drive him away, but he was only upset that she hadn't mentioned it sooner. This may had only been because she had a ‘good’ power, but to this day, he claims that it was because of ‘true love’. His mother has the ability to physically heal people with her singing voice.
Sonya had to pretty much beg for children, the second being an easier sell because the first didn't have powers. Richard's human genes apparently dominated in Manny’s older brother, Ellis, so Manhattan is the only child of theirs with powers. Growing up, Sonya helped Manny develop his powers while always urging him to keep it to himself. He didn't quite understand why he had to be so secretive when his mom used her powers for work, but she always told him he would get it one day.
When ‘one day’ came, Manny was in his late teens and he decided to pack up his things and move into the city. His parents reluctantly let him go, reminding him that the city was dangerous even for a super, and especially for a teenager, but they couldn't change his mind. He needed a place to freely explore his powers, and he promised to never get his family involved or even reveal his relation to them (in case he gained some enemies).
Manny took to the city pretty well and spent a lot of time exploring, but he didn't really get serious about being a vigilante until his brother was injured in a fire caused by a pyrokinetic. Ellis ended up trapped underneath some fallen rubble, and even though Manny was able to rescue him, Ellis was paralyzed from the waist down and confined to a wheelchair. At that moment, Manhattan dedicated himself fully to ridding the city of crime and finding the person responsible for his brother's injury.
Theme Song:
Weapons of Mass Distortion - The Crystal Method
Relationships:
TBD
Extra:
We...are not...normal. |
43,538 | 1,193 | 231 | 1,284 | 117 | TURN BACK
Turn Back glared at Wraith even as he listened to Ditch yell at the two of them He fought to hold back the bile he desperately wished to spew at this little punk, especially given the parting jabs she took at him. The obviously fake apology and smile were too much though, and he growled back under his breath "Well at least I can save someone, psycho." He said before turning to Ditch again.
"I have less than no idea how to fight mind control. Hell, I barely have an idea of how to fight darkness. But like I said, I can help the kid. I'll make the call, we can move him somewhere within an hour, probably. If we want him to stay here with Ditch till he wakes up and can tell us what he knows, then fine. But after that, he needs the safety we promised him." Turn Back nodded to Ditch, Omega, and Tank before stepping out of the warehouse again, pulling out his phone and dialing Emma.
Barely a moment later, the phone picked up and Emma's clear voice rang into his ear: "Jason! I thought you were going to be home by now! What happened?! Are you hurt?!"
"Emma, I'm fine. Listen though, I have a... favor. It's about, uh... Business. We found a child. He's maybe 12 or so. He's cold and alone, he's scared. That, uh... That thing that I've been working with the others to get under control? Yeah, this kid came from there. We need to help him."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line as Emma processed all that. Jason sighed and rubbed his temple with his free hand, inwardly cursing the sheer stupidity of the codes his desire to be vague had boxed him into. "Okay..." Emma finally said. "We, uh... I think we still have that air mattress, I can sleep on that... Do we have enough food? Is... Is it safe here?"
"Food's not an issue, I can take care of that. And you and I can take care of him. Look Emma, I'm sorry. This whole thing is so sudden, and I didn't want to drag you into--"
"I'm setting everything up now. He'll have hot food and a place to sleep when you bring him home. Don't worry about dad either. I'll take care of everything Jason, just bring the both of you home safe."
The line went dead and Jason sent up a silent prayer of thanks to his saint of a sister. He headed back into the warehouse and caught Ditch's eye. "There's a place for him. A good one, where he'll be safe. Trust me, the girl taking care of him is an... Angel." He said, hoping Ditch would get the message. He shoved his phone back into his pocket, his hand brushing a foreign object. He sighed at the memory, he'd found Reaper's money clip after going back to scavenge the rest of the cash she'd thrown. He hated the thought of talking to her again, but she had seemed worried about it. Besides, he'd got some good information from it, as his thumb scanned across the engraved 'ZK' in the gold.
Turn Back's eyes caught Reaper near the door, still keeping away from the child. Sighing again, Turn Back sucked it up and headed over to her, pulling the clip out of his pocket as he approached. "Reaper. I found this. Thought you'd want it back." He said, holding out the money clip. He dropped his voice lower as he approached, so nobody else could hear. "I wouldn't toss it around any more if I were you though. Might not be safest, if you know what I mean." He couldn't be 100% sure, but he had a feeling he knew who the girl in front of him was... | Name: Jason Grave
Quote: "Pain is temporary. Victory is eternal."
Alias: Turn Back or TB
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Family: Mother (Deceased), Father
Occupation: Office assistant
Appearance: Tall and lithe, Jason is what many would describe as lanky. He has above average strength for his size, but not of any surprising strength. His face is hard beyond his years, his brow in an almost perpetual furrow. His icy blue eyes seem to pierce into ones soul, and he keeps his black hair combed back close to his head. His left hand is a prosthetic, one of the new models that link to the users nervous system and respond in a similar manner to a real hand.
Jason wears business-type button-up shirts and nice ties for his day job, however once the sun sets it's a very different story. Jason changes from a 'mild-mannered' office person to a darkly-dressed vigilante. He wears a tight black shirt and loose-fit dark jeans. He wears a black glove on his right hand, and has steel-toed boots.
Method of Operation: Jason tends to leap into the middle of a fray, getting into fights with criminals at the drop of a hat. He often allows himself to be hit several times near the beginning of a fight, both to lull his opponents into a sense of security, and to build up his own power. Once he starts to fight back, he uses a folding staff to gather momentum, going for the head, the gut, the knees, any weak point he thinks he can exploit.
Superpower: Kinetic absorbtion and redistribution.
Jason has the ability to absorb and redirect and kinetic energy that he is aware of coming into contact with him. This manifests ina few different ways, as listed below.
Enhanced Stamina
By reabsorbing the energy expended while walking or running, Jason can go much further than the normal person without needing to stop for rest. This is not indefinite however, as some energy is lost with each step.
Limited Invulnerability
So long as Jason is aware of physical attacks made against him, he can absorb the energy of the blow without it harming him. This includes bullets.
Energy Storage/Redirection
Jason can store any kinetic energy absorbed within his body or any object he touches as excess potential energy, to be used as extra force. For example, if he is hit by someone, he can store the energy of that hit into his staff to hit them back with the strength of the staff, and the force they had originally hit him with.
Weaknesses
The energy conversion used by Jason is unstable, making any stored energy equally unstable. If he stores the energy for too long, it will begin to entropy, with explosively catastrophic results. This weakness enhances in both speed and power the more energy is absorbed. For example, the force of an apple hitting his head could lie dormant for weeks or months before detonating, but the power of a train could only be held for a few minutes. In addition to this, Jason is not immune to damage taken from unknown sources, he must be aware of an enemy in order to use his powers to defend himself.
Skills: Jason has learned how to fight, though not in any particular style. More the 'jump and run' tactics young gang members often use on the streets, with the major exception being: Jason doesn't run.
Jason has an above-average understanding of technology, and can familiarize himself with a new computer quite quickly.
Jason is a mediocre baseball player.
Equipment: Folding staff, tucked into a back pocket. Cell phone. Steel-toed boots. A handful of metal nuts
Personality: Jason is often cold upon his first meeting. He keeps very professional and businesslike, often not exchanging many words at all. Once he begins to warm up to a person however, another side of him comes out. Jason will begin smiling and joking more, enagaging in conversation and sharing stories of his life. He doesn't have many people he would consider a friend, but those he does he would give his life for.
Enemies, on the other hand, see a completely reversed Jason. They see someone who will sit and take a beating, any punishment they can dole out while laughing in their face. Criminals know fear as Turn Back begins to taunt them as he gets up and uses the force of their own blows to beat them senseless. Those who seek to do him harm see a cold, hard face with an icy stare before a booted sole darkens their vision, sometimes for the last time.
Biography: Jason was born into a poor immigrant family from Europe, who wanted nothing more than to see their boy become a famous American baseball player (Which is, of course, the American dream). His life was dominated by the sport, from playing catch with his father in the back yard using stones when they couldn't afford a new ball, to joining a local little league team as soon as he was big enough. Jason't family had always been low on money, but his mother and father managed to scrape together everything Jason needed for the team. Unfortunately, it seemed Jason was doomed to a life of mediocre sports talent. He never really shone on the field, making a few nice plays and a good hit here or there, but not reaching the standards his parents hoped he would.
Jason's life changed for the first time at the age of 12. During one of the final baseball games of the season, he stood a bit too close to the plate in an all-planned effort to hit the ball with more force. His left hand was struck by the pitch, a fastball right to his knuckles, though Jason felt no pain. He soon forgot the incident however, until a week or two later, when his hand began to ache. Not able to afford a doctor, his parents looked at it, said it seemed fine, and wrapped it with soft cloth, to try and sooth the paid. Soon after, Jason's hand exploded in a flash of purple, the decaying energy from the baseball weeks prior finally taking its toll. The family was introduced to one of the facets of the 'American Dream'; privatized healthcare. The bills from the hospitals, all the tests done, and getting even the cheapest prosthetic they could find all but bankrupted the family. Each parents was forced to take another job just to survive, and that was when Jason's life changed again.
Late one night, walking home form work in an attempt to save money on bus fare, Jason's mother was jumped by a group of muggers. Desperately trying to defend her hard-earned money, she fought back against her attackers, who decided it was easier to simply pull a knife. Jason got the news before leaving for school the next day; his mother had been killed. This sent the boy's father into a spiraling depression, he barely ate or slept, and stopped talking to anybody at all. Jason did everything he could to help, but his father was left a broken shell of a man. Soon after, Jason swore vengeance on the criminals of his city, vowing to use his newfound powers to destroy the people who had taken both his parents from him and ruined his life.
Theme Song: TBD
Relationships: TBD
Extra: We are not normal. |
43,539 | 1,193 | 232 | 314 | 285 | Tempers still smoldered, embers that burned bright and hot looking to catch any source that would rekindle the argument. Despite that it seemed as though Turn Back and Wraith were sufficiently doused that they backed off with little more than snide jabs under their breaths, the actual words lost to those outside the small space between them. Reaper’s eyes still followed them, seeing their mouths move as they parted. Children. Under her eyes she rolled her mask before turning her attention back to the others.
“I think it’s suffice to say aside from taking care of the kid we’ve done all we can chatting until he wakes up,” The elemental stated, before tilting her head watching Turn Back leave once more. She shook her head. “The answers we received only caused more questions. For now what can we do but keep our eyes peeled to find out more info? That or track down one of Umbra's cronies ourselves. Besides, it’s late – I have class tomorrow. Who knows what you guys have to do on a Tuesday?” Reaper briefly toyed with the idea of backing Omega up on Ditch getting some sleep but ended up forgoing it. Ditch was a grown woman, and to be honest she looked ready to pass out anyway. That or completely demolish five pots of coffee and see into forever. Too bad that wasn’t the energy wielder’s power, she’d provide the caffeine herself.
Turn Back returning interrupted Reaper’s trailing thoughts and she tilted her head towards him. It seemed he had taken the initiative of preparing his home for the child, making Reaper huff under her mask. It was probably better though, considering the similarities her powers had to the kid’s main aggressor. She had already scared the white off him once. Her brow did raise when Turn Back approached her, her stiff body language tensing up further. Her hopes that this wouldn’t turn into another argument were quickly settled and she silently took the gold money clip from the other vigilante, though she grimaced as soon as his words settled in her head. She only briefly glanced at the engraved initials on the front before pulling another clip out of her back pocket, a similar gold but different in design and with no letters across the front.
“Duly noted,” Reaper rumbled lowly as she switched the contents from one to another, keeping her words short despite wanting to yank her own hair out. Stupid, stupid. There was a reason she had been concerned about it – but her anger had her abandoning the thought until she went back the next day to find it all cleaned up. She had actually hoped someone in the neighborhood had picked it up and pawned it, rather than Umbra’s minions finding it. She honestly wasn’t sure if that or Turn Back retrieving it was worse. She really didn’t like the idea of him knowing – or at least having a clue on who she was. Still, breathing a little sigh of relief Reaper finally focused her blackened eyes on the other vigilante.
“… Thanks.” Changing her finger’s movements she pulled a few of the transferred bills, a shadow tentacle grabbing Turn Back’s hand to lift it once more for Reaper to slap them in his palm. “And here, for the kid. I’m sure you know I can afford it.” The last part was dry, her quickly withdrawing though a little frown tugged at her lips. Considering that Turn Back had the kid he’d be in the most danger, and may need back up at a moment’s notice…
“Hey,” Reaper added on, raising her voice so the others could hear. “Get your phones out if you want my number. Just… I’m not expecting any social calls.” She waited a moment before rattling off her number, her fingers unconsciously brushing against the back of it in her pocket, where it was waiting on an empty texting field. She really should send that message.
“And if I find that number on craigslist’s missed connections I’m going to kill one of you.” | Name
Zoey KasimirQuote
--Alias
ReaperAge
23Gender
FemaleFamily
Father . Mother, passed. Distant family otherwise.Occupation
University student.Appearance
Standing at 6’1’’ Zoey is a rather tall woman, but thankfully isn’t so thin as to appear sickly due to her active lifestyle, leaving a fair amount of muscle packed onto her body. Her red hair is such a light shade that it almost appears to be orange, the strands falling straight down to her mid back, though more often than not she has bangs falling into her face. Said face has rather elegant, if harsh looking features made up of sharp, hard lines with high cheekbones and brows near constantly furrowed above her grey-blue eyes. Sadly this all adds up to Zoey having a natural ‘resting bitch face’, often appearing to be judging everything about you with a single glance.
Due to her upbringing nothing she wears makes her more approachable either, her casual wear often consisting of slacks and button up shirts or high brand sleeveless tops, and sunglasses she probably spent too much on. Zoey probably doesn’t even own a pair of jeans.
Well… except one pair. Reaper’s vigilante costume is made purely to be as non-conspicuous as possible, made up of simple loose jeans, gloves, and an oversized hoodie, all in black to match the theme of course. The only thing that really makes it stand out at all in a crowd is that if anyone glanced beneath the hood Reaper is always wearing a full head balaclava, the only openings being two eye holes – though even then her eyes are constantly blacked over anyway. No skin is on show, and due to the size of the hoodie it helps hide her gender as well.Method of Operation
Zoey is a vicious thing, and an equally dirty fighter. Since she’s often in mid to close combat she doesn’t hesitate to use cheap tricks to seal a victory, and often relies on surprise and brute strength to end a confrontation before it can truly begin. Due to the latter she isn’t highly known, though there are definitely enough whispers in the streets to gain attention. Thankfully no one seems to realize she’s a woman yet, between trying not to talk in costume and often slouching to further hide her features, which additionally puts less emphasis on her height.
Though, if it’s ever publicly found out that Reaper is a female she has so many cheesy lines ready to go.Personality
Zoey is rather bitter and sarcastic, despite trying to appear more elegant than she is. Even with her efforts to be aloof and untouchable she can be quick to fluster or anger if the right buttons are pressed, and will lash out. She’s pessimistic, and at times with her biting attitude can be a bit of a bully. Truth be told it’s rather accidental though, as Zoey is too preoccupied with her own problems to care about harassing others. She’s taken to finding distractions as well and can easily focus on something completely off topic, such as thinking ‘what would I say to this mugger if I did wear a spandex superhero costume?’ while completely jumping him.
Also, since she’s had everything provided for her Zoey is a bit loose with money. She knows every dollar counts, but what’s a bit here and there?Superpower
Zoey is for all intents and purposes a darkness elemental. The main part of being this elemental is that she can sense the same darkness in others; however no one is pure sunshine and rainbows so it acts more like a sixth sense of ‘beacons’ to people, excluding young children. In large cities it’s like being surrounded by a sea of these beacons all melding together into a gelatinous blob, only the particularly large ones such as murderers standing out in any capacity, and with concentration she can ‘separate’ those beacons approximately a block around her to pick out locations in the overall mass.
Were it only this Zoey might have her hands full with vigilante work, but thankfully that rather useless if constant part of her abilities isn’t what makes her a threat. Zoey’s specialization is the ability to solidify shadows to create things as needed, her ‘signature’ being claws made of darkness – stronger than her grip and farther than her reach. However she can also form them into other things, such as barriers that would be too weak to do more than slow a bullet but would solidly stop a body if she’s fast enough. Her father as another example could use a shadow as thin as a needle to perform minute details his hands were too large for. In terms of shadows Zoey can also perform a ‘shadowstep’ of short distances by stepping into or forming a large enough shadow to disappear into them to another. Obviously this power set is most useful at night when there’s less light sending her power source scurrying, but its’ not impossible to use them in the sunshine and light – just weaker. Even her own shadow can be used to an extent.
The last useful piece of her powers is that when concentrating, particularly in the heat of battle, Zoey feels no pain – which isn’t always a good thing as she’s as delicate as a normal human. Only her own logic at seeing her wounds would let her know when the time to retreat is, and leaves her paranoid of her back in particular.
Visually, as an elemental darkness tends to react around her. Sometimes her shadow tends to ‘wisp’ little tendrils of smoky black up and curl around her legs when she’s idle, or her eyes can be darkened to hide their color.Skills
Zoey learned sambo martial arts when she was younger, though never really put it to any real world use until recently. She does however keep quite fit, frequenting gyms or jogging through the streets. Aside from that due to hunting trips she’s quite patient when it comes to waiting for ‘prey’, and knows some trapping techniques as well as how to handle a rifle.
Zoey also has the fantastic ability to laugh at her own jokes and not feel self-conscious about it.Equipment
Mace – Yep, a bottle of ordinary mace. Zoey tends to forget about it since she’s so reliant upon her powers however.
First Aid Kit, including a mirror! – Because Zoey can’t feel pain until a scuffle is already over she always comes prepared in case she misses any deeper wounds, hiding a small first aid kit within the confines of her hoodie. It comes with a small make-up mirror stashed inside to check the extent of damage to her back when necessary. It’s better than wondering later on ‘why does my shoulder blade feel like dust?’Biography
As the first and only child to the Kasimir family Zoey was the pride of her parents’ life, and with their social status never had to want for anything. While both her parents came from upper class families their fortune truly came from her father, a talented surgeon who was rather highly sought after. He had a near hundred percent survivability on his performances, even the more dangerous ones, due to the least kept secret in his medical ward – Dr. Kasimir wasn’t a normal human.
It was within days after her birth that it became apparent Zoey took after her father, and in more than just his sharp features. He was of course overjoyed and Zoey started learning even before she could walk to use her powers, identical to his. Her mother was often playfully exasperated with her father, but for years they were a happy family unit. It was only when Zoey started school did she start to realize her life wasn’t perfect. She was six when the exasperation was no longer playful, and the affectionate whispers her parents shared with upturned lips turned to harsh accusations and clenched teeth. Though they held on as long as they could to their marriage, at least for the sake of their daughter, the escalating disgust was coming to its very inevitable conclusion.
Yet it never came to that, but Zoey feverently wished that it did.
It was around when the ‘divorce’ word was finally being vocalized that the route was violently derailed. An accident happened – Zoey’s mother had been out shopping when, out on the streets, she kneeled down to pick something up and lost her balance, falling in the path of an incoming vehicle. She didn’t even make it to her husband’s operating table. While Dr. Kasimir was briefly looked at due to their known impending divorce, it was obvious he wasn’t a part of it – the accident was even caught on surveillance camera.
Following her mother’s subsequent funeral Zoey withdrew into herself, much to her father’s concern. It’s what prompted him to dismiss a good portion of their staff and quit his job to fall back on their savings to spend more time at home with his little joy, his work no longer centerfold to his day. He taught her more about her powers over the years, immersed himself even in her school and taught her all about how important image was. When she was older they began having annual hunting trips where Zoey was taught how to track, to trap and most importantly just get to spend some time with her only parent. The hunting was scary at first, but as a darkness elemental as well her father had a distinctive beacon to her, which only became more pronounced after her mother’s death.
When it came time for her to start high school Dr. Kasimir finally returned to being a surgeon, though he signed Zoey up for sambo martial arts as well. His worry knew no bounds, he wanted his little girl to be able to take care of herself. He even got her to carry mace – something she let him know she found useless. They had powers, Dad. But he insisted, and she relented. Yet as his hours at work once more grew and Zoey grew more confident in her prowess is when the ideas started. Vigilantism. What better way to also use her abilities for good, like the man she looked up to? Her grades were decent, but definitely not enough to follow in his footsteps and be a surgeon or anything. It was a whimsical and surprisingly optimistic thought, and before long Zoey found herself sneaking out and beginning to foil purse snatchers and muggings in the underbelly of their city. Well, what few there were anyway – Zoey lived in a good neighbourhood in a good city. She found herself getting more and more into it despite a lack of activity, soon looking through back logs of crimes by sneaking into the local sleepy precinct via her shadowstep and going through cold cases.
It was going through these that she came across the box – Kasimir, A.. Her mother. Figuring at first someone filed it wrong it still sent an ache through Zoey, and it was morbid curiosity that had her slowly taking the box and opening it. It was there, scrawled in the pages of an old notebook that Zoey found out why this box was in cold cases. Turns out it was a misfile due to some loose notes scrawled at the top, yet one in particular stuck out to her.
‘On video victim appears to have been yanked forward’.
It was such a small thing. Obviously it went no where, there was no one around to yank her forward – it was even on video so the half-hearted scribble was discarded. On video. A video sitting in the box, dusty and unseen for years. Something Zoey never wanted to see in her life if she could help it. And one, stupid, mistaken note had her taking it out to see for herself.
As soon as the video started Zoey knew it was a bad idea, but like a train wreck couldn’t tear her eyes away. When her mother kneeled on the sidewalk to pick up her dropped wallet Zoey knew exactly what was coming and finally averted her gaze from watching her mother’s expression on the grainy video as she pitched forward. That’s how Zoey saw it.
Rewind. Watch. Rewind. Watch. Zoom in – the grain stayed but so did the darkening pixels around her mother’s wrist in the old surveillance video. As Zoey’s mother grabbed onto the wallet that had fallen just off the sidewalk something barely seen wrapped around her wrist, and from the motion of her body pulled her forward. It was such a tiny detail, it was no wonder no one picked up on it – most would probably even dismiss it as bad picture quality. It was impossible for anyone to have pulled her forward after all.
Anyone except someone who had the ability to solidify shadows.
Denial set in quickly, and as quick as Zoey could shove everything back together and back in place she was out of the precinct – and out of the city. The constant shadow stepping had her exhausted but she ended up in the grounds her father took her to every year. Hours after the sun went down he found her, and despite all the denial, the rationalization, as soon as Zoey saw him it came pouring out. A slew of vile words, accusations, he lied to her, but most of all one burning question.
“Why?! What was the point?! What – did you want to bang another woman? She was your wife! Was it money? She was going to divorce your crazy ass and take half of your precious fortune-“
“She was going to take you away from me.”
No denial. No softening. Just a simple fact that took the wind from Zoey’s sails and left her gaping at him. What do you even say to that? What can you say to that? There wasn’t a happy ending to this tale. He had asked her what he could do to fix this, to make her happy – and she told him nothing would make this okay. So Dr. Kasimir did the last thing he could, and gave his daughter justice. The next morning he had turned himself in, admitting to what and how he murdered his wife. There was only one thing he was adamant about – he was the only one in the family with these abilities.
Unable to stay in her family home with all the bittersweet and corrupted memories Zoey found herself applying for university across the country and subsequently moving on getting acceptance. As the new head of the Kasimir family it was easy after all. For a few years she kept her head down, didn’t show her powers and almost grew to resent them. More than that she grew to resent this damn, corrupted city with its rampant crime and she grew to resent the rush she got the first time she stepped in to help someone again.
It’s what Zoey always wanted, after all.
Nearing the end of her degree Zoey is finally back into vigilantism. She couldn’t stay away from it in this city. Here though there’s no precinct trawls needed, as Reaper finds crime whenever they go looking. Subtlety is needed, of course – who else in this world is a known darkness elemental? Confidentiality is key.
Which is why Zoey finds herself considering outright bolting from the city as her mouse hovered over the delete button of her email, looking at this message from the infamous Ditch. Why risk her identity? Why risk anything when it’d be so easy to pick up and leave?
Well, maybe it was time to redeem the darkened path.Theme Song
Money - Mystery SkullsRelationships
None currently.Extra
We’re not normal, that’s for sure. |
43,540 | 1,193 | 233 | 468 | 617 | It taste like the forgiven sky fruits. A smirk on her features, Raven began to back off after Ditch snapped at her. She reminded her of Kaite a little, the woman would stay up for days making music and snap at anyone who had the gull to try and remove a instrument from her grasp.
Still, she couldn't help but tap her finger against the container, a sound leaving her pocket at the offer. She shouldn't be messing with her in a time like this, she was stressed, they all were. TB and Wraith were snapping at each other, causing the woman to shift a bit, reaching for the book at her side to make sure it was there, and tapping her cane to gain a comforting sound.
Well, least they came to a stand still, a agreement of sorts. Quietly listening to the conversations, she found herself poking Manny away with her cane, trying to figure out if he would drift when she realized that he was using gravity. How one is able to use their powers so casually is beyond her, she was tempted to call the Grim herself though, she wanted something to feel. But the idea of the kid waking up only to see a beast of nightmares was keeping her away from the action.
"I wonder what Umbra is after, he has to have a plan for each vigilant that he's captured. I can only imagine how many super's he's attained incognito....." A shiver running down her spine, she shook her head. "Forgive me, that is a grim topic, I'll grow silent." Her ears turning red underneath her hood, Raven decided to just fumble with her hands. What else was she supposed to do? She can't help the kid other than give money, and there was little she could do with researching, she had no where to start.
TB coming back and explaining how the child had a place to sleep, was enough to get a sigh to escape her. "Thats good..do you need assistance?" Tilting her head, she couldn't help but smile at the mention of a angel. Guess whoever it was, was close to the team-mate, there was a slight fondness in his voice that he couldn't hide.
"Here" pulling out her second phone, she began to share her number. "I'll be ending the line on this one in about a month though. So don't be surprised if it starts working." Only Manny and Ditch had her actual number, tiny steps, one by one. If everyone knew her number she would not have been able to sleep at night. "Your right, I have to be training early tomorrow. I guess everyone's lives are going to be a bit sluggish for a while." | Name:Aurora Lorell
Quote:"One should never fear the dark. Just enjoy the light you have left."
Alias: Raven tale
Age: 22
Gender: female
Family: Father: Rick Lorell, Mother: Sarah Lorell
Occupation: Horse trainer and olympic rider.
Aurora is seen to be a beauty. With a lean build and fair skin standing in at around 5,2. Her eyes are what really set her apart besides the snowy form. Red and clouded as though in a veil of mist she almost always keeps them closed due to being bullied as a child. Many saying they are unnerving to look at.
Method of Operation: No one knows that its truly her. Those that have gained her help have only seen the creatures that she calls forth. Usually beasts from mythology that have few features. If shes forced to be seen she stays silent, trying to keep her age and gender a secret. If anyone found out who she was, the world would find out everything about her in minutes.
Instead she uses her tour as a way to keep her location foggy. Being a world and Olympic rider, she has been to all corners of the world. Each one earning a job or two from her. Her method of transportation is a horse she had conjured herself, what she sees as the only link one could give her. Still she reminds herself that she should never get involved with things too big, but the chance to use her abilities has always been too tempting.
Superpower: Aurora has the ability to conjure beasts from stories she has read or been told. Using a leather bound journal as a catalyst to recite the right lines to call forth her companions. She found that the larger impact a story holds to her, the easier it is to call her creatures. Though strange enough she has found that it is more difficult to create that which is already in this world. Being able to make a wraith she has massive difficult in creating a bird.
Many would think this ability is limitless. Sadly Aurora must read or hear the tale in which her conjure is being made from. Even than she can't always make them unless it had a impact on her in some way. Because of this she has a habit of asking others for stories. Any kind hoping that she could advance her abilities further.
Her biggest weakness is that this only works when she has a sound mind and when the book is open. Growing up taming thousand pound animals has made her difficult to frighten. But if she falls pray to fear, the companions she had called would turn on her. If her book is closed her train of thought would break, causing the creatures to disperse and leave her side.
Skills: an amazing horse back rider, her hearing is better than most. Memory is above average. Shes been told that her voice is rather calming due to her nature. Shes also had a good chance of catching a lie so long as it's spoken.
Equipment: Book of tales. Every story is written in Braille. Because of this she keeps it hidden from view and no one has yet to look through it's pages. If someone found out what was inside than the trail would be short in finding out that Aurora is the owner.
Personality: Aurora is a seeker of knowledge. Someone who needs to know things small and large. Heavy and light. This was due to the fact that she was born blind, growing up with being sheltered and lead around she found herself growing tired of the treatment quickly. Even though she would have a pilot smile when someone offers to take her hand or tell her where something is, she would find herself loathing on the inside. Wanting to be as independent as she can be. Pushing herself to be better at what she dose to prove to those around her that she dose not need her eyes in order to live her life. She thinks that many who help her do it not for herself, but so they could feel better. Thinking that they would be a hero for a small moment, she can not stand the thought of being a tool used in someone's self need to feel important. And thus it has only added to her independence.
Yet even with the quite demands of independence, Aurora is a calming presence. Soft spoken shes not one to raise her voice. When it comes to her friends, she is usually the one to end a fight with words alone. Comforting others when they are in need not using sayings of encouragement, but sitting at their side in silence.
She had an interesting habit though. When in good company she tends to speak in riddles, thinking that it's due to the stories she obsesses over, she tries her best to keep it under wraps. Even so, those who she calls friends will tell her she slipped back into her odd way of speaking.
Her greatest fear is being in absolute silence, she also tends to tap her finger on her cane. Sound is her greatest asset and without it she turns into a shell of her usual self. Fumbling over words and sometimes not able to use her powers safely.
Biography: Aurora was born into the business of horses. Her father a trick rider and her mother a cross country racer, the two were a power house in the horse world. Before she was even born they were getting her ready with what style and what horse she would ride, only for their dreams to be crushed when they saw her for the first time. A tiny albino who's retinas never even developed leaving her blind.
yet that did not stop the girl from living up to her family's potential. She became connected with the animals that her family made a living from. Every fall she went through, she would stand from, no injury would ever scare her away. The feeling of power a horse would give was too great to leave. Where in any other situation she would be led around and treated like a child. In the arena she was expected to handle things herself and for once she herself could be the leader. At age six she was competing in not only trick riding, but cross country and dressage.
Having a love for the stories that her mother would read her. Aurora began to print Braille in her own journal, often reading them out loud to her horse. After all, he was the only one that could deal with a 13 year old speaking for hours at a time. Sleeping in the stalls with her books clutched in hand the journal only grew thicker, and heavier. Till eventually the words she recited caused the animal to spook. Thrashing in the box and causing her to scramble out, screams of rage and fear ringing through the stable.
Before she knew it her parents were at her side, asking her what was wrong yet whatever had caused the damage was gone. Again and again it had happened, each time with her reading. Its taken her two full months to find out that the cause of her horse’s spooking was the conjuration of creatures from her own words.
Her own abilities.
Another idea that she could gain independence she began to work. Conducting experiments to figure out the rights and wrongs of her abilities. Its taken her years to find things out on her own. By the time she was 17 she was a competitor in the Olympics. Finally a chance where she was away from those who thought she needed them. All she needed was her book and her cane. Once walking through the stable halls at night. Checking her companion to make sure their first run in the Olympics would be fine. Yet as she opened the door she found something was wrong.
Her stallion named Beauty in a Shadow, was gone.
Her first thought was to contact the security to find him. Fear gripping her mind she could still remember the sweat that ran down her palms as she gripped her cane. Yet when she clicked it on the stone ground she made up her mind. Her book in hand she ran her finger across the pages. "With eyes made for night, and fire as fierce as a devil's light. He tracked down hunters of his land. And made them swear he could never stand." The sound of light feet pattering next to her she found a smile on her lips when the sound of a ragged fox was found at her side. To her eyes there was blank. Yet to anyone who saw it was a fox with two tails, told in Japanese lore to be the devil in a different skin, with eyes of lit green and a scroll strapped to it's back. "Find Beauty." It was all she said, and it was all she needed to. That night she took matters into her own hands as the fox lead her through the halls. Away from the stable and out to the parking lot to hear the half drugged screams of her stallion.
That night something snapped, she no longer used her abilities to gain a smile as she called forth a crimson wraith from the tale "a wife in the bog." The gut wrenching shrieks and screams rang true to her ears. the creature she chosen playing on their fear, having them see a different story as it led them away, leaving her stallion.
she never been so frightened for her horse in her life. Ever since she vowed to make sure that nothing like that would happen to another creature. To another ride, another person, so long as she could help it. She knew it was not just for others though, she never felt so needed until that moment. Like she could actually do something outside her own family. That she could accomplish something on her own. Its difficult for her still, not even her parents know about her second hobby. Her father even looks at those with powers in fear.
At age 18 she ended up moving out. She couldn't risk her family finding out that she was Raven's Tale. Shes done everything to keep that name down. To keep herself hidden so that they would never find out it was her. What if she gained a enemy? What if someone wanted her hurt and they found out that the one they were after was just a blind woman who lived alone?
She was living a dangerous game. And yet, even still as she told herself over and over again that she was playing with fire. She could not stop. The sense of power too intoxicating, the thankful words too well received. She still competes in competitions, but Aurora still finds herself with a smile on her lips whenever she would hear that someone was saved by a strange beast.
She just hopes that the day when she finds herself in deep water would come later. Much, much later.
"We are not normal."
friesian stallion who she named Loki as a barn name he was registered as Beauty in Shadow. He's the only living creature who knows Aurora has abilities. |
43,541 | 1,193 | 234 | 469 | 141 | It seemed that one warning wasn’t enough for Wraith; Ditch knew her apology, all of her apologies were all fake. How? Because Ditch had been exactly the same. That rebellious headstrong teenager who thought every damn thing she did was for all the right reason. Ditch could see right through Wraith’s facade. And she wasn’t amused.
“Listen, dumbass.” Ditch said. “Don’t apologize until you fucking mean it. I do not care if you’re worried about seeing your ghosts. Whoever this kid is, if you lay a fucking finger on him, you will regret it.” Her words were not angry, or fueled with the wrong emotions. Instead they were sharp, pointed like knives.
From that point, Ditch ignored Wraith. She had other problems to deal with besides a stupid teenage girl. “Every superpower has weaknesses. My first assumption is that their mind control is related to fatigue and energy - if we can wear the super out, we can take him down. And I have no doubts that there’s more to it than that. We’ll find him, and when we do, we’ll be ready.”
Her head turned to Omega at his comment about how ruthless Umbra could be. She cast her gaze downwards and exhaled. “If you think this is ruthless,” She muttered. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
"There's a place for him. A good one, where he'll be safe. Trust me, the girl taking care of him is an... Angel." A small smile crept upon Ditch’s lips as she nodded. She stepped up to Tank, putting a hand on the sleeping child’s arm. “I want to make this place suitable for living soon.” She said quietly. “I practically live here already, anyway.” She said with a grin. “But maybe - when I fix this place up all the way. He could stay with me.” Her voice was soft and sentimental, and she looked at the boy with hope and sincerity.
“I guess that’s the end of our meeting.” Ditch said, crossing her arms. “I’m sorry I called you here without any real leads, just speculation. But it was something you had to know.” She nodded.
~~~~~~
"They found the child."
A small, dark smile rose on his face as he turned the faucet on, the blood on his hands trickling down the drain.
"It's about time." There was silence, and the smile had yet to leave his face. "Speak your mind." He said, feeling his companion's uncertainty.
"I can't understand why you let him go. We got nothing out of him, and if you'd just given me more time I could've--"
"It was not your fault."
"It wasn't?"
"Not at all, my dear boy. You did all you could. Besides. The child is much more useful this way."
~~~~~~
End Chapter 3
Downtime Begins | DITCHLooks like you're stuck.Name:UnknownAge:UnknownGender:
UnknownFamily:In their first ever city-wide broadcast, Ditch has mentioned a father. (More to come IC.)Appearance:
No one knows Ditch's true face. If they ever broadcast their face, it's hooded with a skeleton mask. You can hardly even tell their gender, because they muffle their voice using audio software.Method of Operation:
Ditch has never been seen in the flesh. They are known to stop crimes through technology, and though it is unknown if they have superpowers, most assume. Any cyber crimes, or crimes that are committed through the use of technology, are almost always stopped by Ditch. Someone sending an email with launch codes? Never sends, deleted from the system. Bank accounts being drained by hackers? Oh, looks like your computer's fried. Every time they stop a crime, a message pops up on the closest tech item, saying, "Looks like you're stuck. -Ditch." Through doing this, the name Ditch has become very well known. Only once has Ditch broadcasted to every screen in the city, warning them of Umbra.Themesong:
Cigarette Daydreams - Cage the Elephant |
43,542 | 1,193 | 235 | 1,331 | 353 | Wraith/Ditch
After most of the team had dispersed, (Ditch had politely asked Tank to just stay with the boy a few more moments.) Ditch had approached Wraith, voice devoid of any emotion, save perhaps the slightest hint of a smile. "Why don't you come walk with me outside for a moment." She said curtly, and instantly headed for the door, leaving Wraith no choice but to follow.
Ditch headed down the dirty and empty street that was Racket Ave. Her hands jammed in her pockets, gaze set straight ahead. The rain had stopped now, though the sky was still gray. And for the first five minutes of the walk, Ditch said not one word.
"Anything to say?" She said, rather lightly. "Before I go ahead and show you the purpose of this walk, maybe you'd like one more chance to explain yourself."
Wraith just looked at the ground, still a little bitter about being called out for her fake apology. She replied in an equally casual tone, obviously forced. "You want the real reason that the kid freaks me out so much? And here I was, thinking you'd dragged me out here so we could start my fan club." she said, muttering the last part with a slight roll of her eyes.
In an unusually sincere tone, Wraith decided to start answering the question. She kept walking, looking around to try and make sure there was no-one to overhear their conversation. "I don't know if you'd get it at all. But if you want to know so much..." She paused, thinking about lying, but decided against it. After all, Ditch had proven to be annoyingly perceptive so far, or at the very least suspicious of anything Wraith said.
She looked at Ditch for the first time in their walk, seeming a little defeated. "Have you ever killed someone, Ditch? How do you think it feels?"
Ditch let out a little sigh. At least Wraith seemed to be somewhat trying to answer truthfully, which was a start. However, when she asked her question, Ditch bit her tongue. How much about herself did she really want to tell this girl?
"I've never killed like you." She said. "Never up close and personal - never stared them in the eyes or worked towards their demise. But I have killed." She said, staring straight forward, refusing to look back at Wraith. "Does it make you feel good, to kill?" She said. "'Cause I never felt good about it. Even if I got to look Umbra in the eyes and snap his neck. Some part of me would still feel awful, as bad of a man he is." Now that. That was a lie. She awaited the day she got to look Umbra in the eyes and kill him - she yearned for it. And she knew, no part of her would be sorry.
Wraith let out a bitter laugh at the response. Of course Ditch would feel bad about it. They all would, probably. After all, they were just so much better than poor little Wraith, weren't they? "Good? That's one way of putting it. It's more like a rush. I feel powerful, invincible, like nothing can touch me. It makes everything just... Disappear. Like I'm untouchable." she shook her head, disgusted with herself. "I was even able to convince myself I was right to do it, that I was helping other people-"
She paused for a moment. "Anyway, the best way I can describe it is like a drug. That feeling, that power over someone else. It's addictive. I guess you could say I craved it. Still do. And the more that things start piling up, the more scared I get, the more that I just want to make it all go away for just one moment. Be in control."
Her eyes narrowed, glaring at Ditch. "You wouldn't get it. Rest of them would probably feel the same way you do. It's fine. Wraith's fucked in the head. What's new, right?" she felt herself laughing again. It was funny, right? Yeah, funny. Just one big sick joke.
"Stop -- laughing like that." Ditch said, seeming to be a bit repulsed. "You're not fucked in the head. Or, we're all fucked in the head. Because I'm definetly fucked in the head too, so you're not alone." Ditch ran a hand through her wet hair.
"Listen, as someone who.. er.. very much enjoyed the use of drugs back when she was a stupid fucking teenager, I can understand where you're coming from." Ditch said with another sigh. "I get it. I do. Maybe not in the exact same way, but I get it."
"There are other ways to be in control." Ditch said quietly. "You can be in control by doing the right thing, not the wrong thing, you know. Stopping bad guys doesn't mean killing them - and.. killing is the easy way out, when you think about it. You'll be even more in control if you don't kill like that."
"..There's.. a fine line between justice and slaughter. All we want to do is help you find it for yourself."
Wraith shook her head. "I know. I know you're all trying to help me, fix me or whatever. Why do you think I hate you all so much? You're all so damn forgiving and I hate it." That was it. It wasn't like she wanted to be a killer, but it would almost be easier if Ditch would just shout at her, call her a lunatic. She knew how to deal with that.
"Why are you doing this, anyway? Why bother trying to help me? I mean, I doubt anyone would blame you if you handed me over to the authorities. It's not as though I did it once and then just stopped. So many people are dead just because I'm too weak to control myself - Why are you trying to help me?" Wraith looked, and sounded confused. She didn't get it, didn't understand. Even if she got stronger, managed to control herself and never killed another person...
"I can't fix it, Ditch. It doesn't matter how many lives I save, how many people I help, it won't fix anything. Somewhere out there, there's always gonna be some kid, waiting for a parent that never comes home and it's my fault. Because I chose to kill them. I can't make that better." Wraith didn't even remember how many it had been. She knew what it had felt like, losing her mom. And she'd done that to so many people.
Wraith went quiet, staring at the floor again. She'd thought she was doing the right thing, but did that make her any better than if she'd known she was doing the wrong thing? Or did it make her worse, since she couldn't even admit it to herself?
"You're not broken, dammit." Ditch exclaimed. "We're not trying to fix you, we're trying to help you. There's a difference." She insisted, rubbing her forehead. "There's nothing about you that needs fixing. It's not fixing. Don't think of it like that."
"You're on our team." Ditch said, walking in front of Wraith and now looking her straight in the eyes. "You're on our side, you're fighting for our cause. You're just fighting a little bit too much and that's okay, because you have the power to stop that. You're a part of our family now, and all we want to do is help you. We can't help you if you don't let us."
Ditch swallowed. "Listen," She said softly. "You know Walker, right? Wall Walker. The guy you nearly killed." A smile escaped her. "When we were kids, he was my friend. I-I.. I didn't know it was him. I mean, he didn't really have a beard back then. And his voice got deeper, and I didn't know that he had powers, and his eyes were.. darker."
"He was always a bit of an asshole. He never had any qualms poking at someone's insecurities, laughing at them. He'd trip the weak kids and he'd beat the shit out of them, but he was still my friend. Because he had his good moments. Moments where he'd laugh at the right things, not cruel jokes. And moments where he'd beat the shit out of people who actually deserved it."
"He did bad things. He's done bad things. And I guess... I'm comparing him to you. Because he looks, he acts, he talks like a criminal. But he's not."
"But when you go down the path as long as someone.. someone like Umbra has.. the exit slowly fades away. You can't leave it. And as much of a bastard, a sick, twisted bastard Umbra is, I have no doubts he started out just like all the rest of us. I have no doubts he was good at some point. What I don't doubt, is that he started killing, and never stopped. And now the good is gone."
"Your good isn't gone yet. I know it isn't. It hasn't left, not in the slightest, because you're standing here and you're trying. And that's better then Umbra ever did."
Wraith smiled slightly at Ditch's words. Was she still deluding herself? Maybe. For now, though, she had a feeling that she could live with that. As much as she found the words hard to believe, the fact that someone was trying to help her was comforting, in some weird way. Although, it still kind of hurt to listen to Ditch trying to help her like this. Hurt even more to admit that she kinda needed it. Only thing worse than a self-righteous leader, was a self-righteous leader who actually had a point.
"I really am an idiot, huh? Feeling all sorry for myself like this when there's people actually trying to help me. Guess I just never really wanted to listen before." she smiled properly now, although it was more to herself than to Ditch. "There's a lot for me to think about. I guess trying is better than nothing at all, so I'll try. I-" she paused, an expression of reluctance and hesitation crossing her face. After a moment, she spoke again.
"I can't promise that it'll never happen again. I wish I was strong enough to be sure, but I'm not. But I promise that I'll try not to give in, and that's the best I can give you right now. Hope that's enough." she sighed, shaking her head. Sincerity could be difficult, as it turned out.
Wraith looked up, some of her usual confidence returning to her expression although it was noticeably subdued. Her coldness was certainly still there, but the girl seemed to have thawed just a little bit. "So, why did you want to bring me out here? Or was our little heart to heart the only reason for this walk?" she didn't mean to come off as dismissive, but after opening up like that she was instinctively trying to guard her emotions again.
"You're not an idiot. It's okay to not want to listen sometimes. But I'm glad you're coming around, kid." Ditch grinned, very lightly ruffling Wraith's hair. "It's hard, to break habits. I know. But you're strong. I'm sure you'll power through it." Ditch gave a small laugh. "You're so damn young, you know. And you're doing better then any stupid teenager I've ever met. Even my past self." Ditch paused. "Looking past the murder stuff, y'know."
Ditch scratched the back of her head. "Uh, I guess... I don't know. Mostly just the heart to heart. I guess we should just head back. I don't wanna leave the kid with Tank to long, I'm sure he wants to get home." Ditch cleared her throat. They'd reached a bit more of a desolate part of the avenue -- it was an empty plot, dirty and dusty. No one had taken advantage of it, of course.
Ditch kicked the tip of her shoe into the dirt. "Uh," She mumbled. "My dad kinda.. died, here." Ditch's eyes glazed over as she shoved her hands in her pockets. "I'm sorry. I don't know. I didn't mean to make this about me, I just.. I'm trying to be less... secretive? But I honestly don't even know what counts as a secret anymore. I just keep everything to myself, so I guess.. with me, everything's a secret. I really want to.. I want you guys to trust me. And I kind of already screwed that up by reading your files and shit, and basically blackmailing you to meet me, but I'm trying."
Ditch sucked in a breath. "So you can.. ask me questions, too. Whatever you want. Anytime. Now, even, if you want. Maybe there's stuff about Umbra that I know that you should know and I just didn't even think to tell you. Like.. Umbra has heterochromia. Did you know that? One eye's green and the other is blue. It's pretty cool. I mean, it would be cooler if he wasn't a psycho, but it's cool." Ditch paused for air.
Wraith didn't say anything at all when Ditch mentioned her dad, only giving her a sympathetic look. Sometimes it was better to just let someone get things out, at least from her experience. And if Ditch was going to be thinking about this kind of stuff, then it seemed better to let her speak. No reason to stop her in the middle of talking. So, Wraith listened as Ditch spoke, letting her voice all of her concerns, with a small smile when she started to talk about Umbra's eyes.
"Yeah, I guess it is pretty cool, huh? For what it's worth with someone like that. But, yeah, you didn't get off to the best start, Ditch." she laughed, turning to look at Ditch with a sincere expression. "Listen, I'm not the biggest expert on honesty in the city and I'm pretty sure they all trust me less than they do you, but if you want my advice on this?"
"For starters, you've gotta make some kinda show of trust. Telling us your name, your real name, would probably be a pretty good start. You know who we are behind the masks, so having a bit more of an equal footing..." Wraith shrugged. "It'd feel a lot less threatening. We've all got a lot to lose from being found out, you know? Me especially."
Yeah, her especially. Although, if Ditch had killed people like she said, then she'd be in much the same situation as Wraith. "So, I say we have a proper introduction before we head back." she smirked, holding out a hand for Ditch to shake. "As you already know, my name's Kara. Kara Banks. How about you, Ditch?"
Ditch nodded as Wraith spoke. "No, I get it. I.. I've got a lot to lose too, I should've.. started with that. But being Ditch means more to me then being. You know, normal, I guess. And showing you my face as Ditch means more to me then telling you who I am." Ditch stared at Wraith's outstretched hand, teeth clenched together before she finally took the girl's hand.
"Kendall," She said slowly, a small, weak smile creeping up on her face. "Kendall West. It's nice to meet you, Kara." After they shook, Ditch let out a kind of airy laugh, immediately shoving her hands back in her pockets as if the whole ordeal was too much for her to handle. She glanced around at the empty plot. "I think we should go before I start blabbing about my sad feelings or some shit." Ditch said with a grin, gingerly putting a hand on Wraith's shoulder. "I'm glad you came." She said. "I'm glad we could talk."
"Kendall, huh? Nice name." While the name didn't mean anything to her, Wraith was just glad that her advice had been taken on board. She appreciated having a bit more of a level playing field between them even if it was mostly symbolic. "You should have said it at the start, but it's not too late. Just try and trust us a little from now on, and I'll do the same for you. You don't have to deal with everything on your own."
Wraith smiled and nodded slightly as Ditch placed her hand on her shoulder. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm glad we could talk like this too. I think we really should head back, though. We've both got plenty to think about, and besides, I'm not even supposed to be out of the house!" she laughed a little. "Come on, we should head back."
Turning to head back the way that they'd come, she paused for a second and looking over her shoulder at Ditch, a genuine smile finally on her face. "Thank you, Kendall. I mean that." | Name: Kara Banks
Quote: “Real justice leaves nothing behind.”
Alias: Wraith
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Family: Older brother, Steven Banks Father, Carl Banks. Mother, Georgia Banks, Deceased
Occupation: Student
Appearance: Kara is shorter than average for her age, and has the lean, muscular build of a gymnast. Her facial features are slightly unremarkable, but she could be described as mildly attractive, with pale grey eyes and a light dusting of freckles across her nose. She has medium-length brownish-blonde hair, which she ties back into a ponytail whenever possible.
During her daily life, Kara almost always dresses casually in jeans, battered old sneakers and tank tops or t-shirts. She owns an embarrassing amount of hero themed t-shirts, most of them given to her by her brother every time her birthday or Christmas rolled around, or just whenever he wanted an excuse to annoy her. Secretly, she is quite fond of them, even the ones with the cheesy slogans, which could explain why she wears them so much.
When operating as ‘Wraith’, Kara wears a silver eye mask that covers the top half of her face, along with a dark grey jacket and black trousers loose enough for her to be able to move quickly. She always wears a pair of thick black gloves wrapped in barbed wire, designed to be completely waterproof due to the nature of her fighting style.
Method of Operation: Her fighting style is based on provoking her enemies into aggression, forcing them to lower their guard and leave openings for her to attack. Once her opponent is vulnerable, she can use her ability to directly attack their vital organs and end the fight before it properly begins.
If forced into a fight, she uses her ability to alter her density to be lighter than air, allowing her to take flight and making her a fast-moving, unpredictable target. When striking her opponent, she heightens the density of her fists as they hit her opponent, giving every impact much more force behind it.
Superpower: Kara can control the density of her body, allowing her to walk through walls, become lighter than air, or give her punches the force of sledgehammer blows. In combat, she uses her power to phase into opponents bodies and destroy their vital organs, or hit them with strikes that have a huge amount of power.
Her power has drawbacks, though. While increasing her density can allow her to become stronger and withstand more blows, her body can only take the strain for a limited time before she risks permanent bone or muscle damage. This also applies to reducing her density, as the strain put on her organs could lead to health problems or falling unconscious if used for long periods of time. This means she must use her power in short bursts to avoid being damaged.
Skills: Kara is a skilled actor, and does not hesitate to lie when the situation calls for it, and is able to be a very convincing diplomat. She is also a skilled gymnast, which lends her some strength and agility that she would otherwise lack and has gotten her out of a few sticky situations.
Equipment: Barbed gloves, designed to do maximum damage to internal organs. Small vial of poison that can be used on more durable enemies. Backpack to carry equipment and hide obvious evidence after fights.
Personality: To the outside world, Kara has a friendly, outgoing personality. She surrounds herself with people who are kind and caring, making friendships easily with a hug and a beaming smile. She is, for all intents and purposes, a model student, the type of person that you would expect to make it out in the world and live a happy, normal life. She seeks out others like her, who are held up on a pedestal to others and surrounds herself with them. However, if they are seen as doing wrong, or harming someone else, then they tend to disappear.
In reality, behind the façade of warmth and friendliness that she puts on, Kara has an obsession with justice, whatever the cost. No matter how small a grievance, how petty the crime, if she witnesses someone doing wrong, then she marks them in her mind and obsessively tracks them down to deal out her version of ‘justice’. Still, she seems to almost enjoy it, always thinking that she is in the right, no matter what the circumstances.
She dislikes heroes, and the way that they attempt to save the day by bringing villains to justice. As far as she is concerned, if the villain responsible lives, then justice has not been done.
Biography: As a child, Kara was always liked by those around her. She grew up in a happy family of normal people, completely unaware of her powers, and was closer to her mother than anyone else in the world. They would sing and dance in the park, go to the theatre, and she would be supportive of everything Kara did. The first time she decided to try out at the local theatre, her mother was the last person to count her out and the first person to give her a shoulder to cry on when she was rejected.
For sixteen years, she lived an ideal life. Her dad would come home, beaming after a good days work or excitedly waving a bonus and declaring that they’d be going on a holiday or buying a new car. Her brother, two years older, would smile and laugh and they’d sit and chat together, less like siblings and more like old friends. Sadly for Kara, it all came tumbling down. Her mother was murdered, with her the only witness. She was only able to survive because her powers activated, allowing the bullet fired at her to simply bounce off. Not understanding what was going on, she ran away.
After the murder, she was racked with guilt over what happened, over not being able to help. Her father and brother tried to help her, but it just didn’t seem to work. She recalled the way she had withstood the bullet, and realised that she had some kind of power. She began to train, and this was where she developed her obsession, vowing never to rest until every single person like this was brought to justice. At eighteen, two years of training later, this obsession drove her to buying a mask, and taking to the streets of the city as Wraith.
Theme Song: Amnesia- Miracle of Sound
Relationships: Not discussed
Extra: Who’s not normal? We’re not normal. |
43,543 | 1,193 | 236 | 468 | 617 | Girard moved his way quietly through the alleyways of downtown looking for any smaller activity to stop in the area. It was a good warmup before a larger scale assault or intervention and let him clean up the streets before such an event which tended to benefit the big man. The less chance for collateral the better in his opinion, also not having someone capable of alerting the targets from the outside did wonders for his chance at a surprise entrance. He found himself walking past one building in particular that caught his attention not because of the outside but what he could hear from inside. It sounded like there was a pretty decent struggle going on inside between at least two people though it was hard to tell from behind the wall. He moved himself into a decent position for entry since it sounded pretty urgent sizing up a portion of wall which looked collapsible without doing too much damage before getting up a bit of speed and crashing through it hoping to end the fight quickly.
She could hear his footfalls, old worn out boots scraping the ground, a metal watch on his left wrist, maybe gold or silver would click against the buttons on his coat. He seemed to be in his mid twenties, the smell of alcohol trying to reach her nose through the damp air.
“I’ll get you bitch!” Even his words were slurred, her only response being the grip of her cane growing tighter, whacking the ebony creation into what seemed to have been his knees. “Time of death, estimated at october 12th, 2010”
A blood chilling shriek, all too familiar harmonized behind her, she could feel the wraith at her back. A playful smirk finding its way to her features as she listened to the man collapse, his shuttered breath now closer to the ground as he scurried away, the graceful waves of the wraith following soon after. “Farewe-”
Crash!
The wall beside them caved in, rubble falling to the cobblestone alley like rolling snow. Instantly she jumped back, her cane raised, the depthless eyes of a raven skull gaping at the new encounter only for Kaite to give a sound of familiarity.
The sound was a bit too close to the idea of a breaking stage. Her guard being lowered she tilted her head in confusion. “Tank is that you, my friend?”
Once the dust cleared it took a moment to process the scene for the big man. It looked like whatever had been happening had been well and truly disrupted hence the man looking stone cold out on the floor. Though the reality set in once Girard realized who else was in the room as he turned his head to Raven Tale figuring out quickly that he just interrupted the woman’s fight in spectacular fashion. In the end this was just one of those awkward moments where he would meet someone else in an impromptu manner, not the first, wouldn’t be the last. “Shoot. Didn’t realize there was a friendly in here, sorry about that.” He said a little concerned he might’ve got her in the impact.
“Tis fine, I moved before you charged.” Standing up she dusted herself off, her wraith floating about the room, studying them both. “Though you have fallen thy pick pocket, I hope he is not wounded.” Moving across the room she reached for his face to feel for the steady breath that brushed against her fingers. “Seems to be well, aside that he is in sleep, would you mind helping me retrieve him?”
“Yeah sure, gimme a sec.” Girard said as he moved over to the unconscious pickpocket checking the man over making sure he wasn’t seriously hurt and clearing the rubble before slinging him over his shoulder. The criminal wasn’t particularly bad off, maybe a few nasty bruises would stay but other than that he would be just fine. The big guy shifted the man into a comfortable position for him and looked back down at his teammate curiously. “We dropping him off at the station or somewhere less obvious?” He asked interested in what the other vigilante had to say on the subject. The two of them hadn’t really had a chance to mingle so to speak so this was a good a time as any he thought.
“I have ways of leaving the wicked in their place without being caught, come, I’ll show you.” Tapping her cane she began to move to the outside world, keeping sure to stay a few steps ahead. She hated the idea of it, but Tank scared her a little, he could kill her without much thought….
“Kaite? Dispers my friend, we shall speak in the marrow.” The creature giving a haunting melody vanished before she even left to the streets. Her head tilted down only slightly. “I did not know this place was under your protection, strange since we never crossed paths.”
“I move around plenty between different areas, harder to leave a pattern that way and keeps the bad guys on edge not knowing where I’ll hit next.” The big guy said giving some explanation as to why they might not have found each other but tactical insight to a lesser degree. He kept up at an even pace a couple feet to the side occasionally scanning around them looking to see if there was anything else to worry about in the vicinity. There was a noted interest in him to see how the blind woman handled attracting attention to her subdued criminals from the police. Generally he left them in a visible spot where he knew cops would be and it wasn’t particularly hard to pick up on a knocked out baddie lying there for the taking so it worked well enough. Of course that was for street crimes because a lightning assault on a hideout or operation usually didn’t need much to get attention as he was leaving the scene, but it made him wonder how someone significantly different to him did it.
“I see, I tend to have a pattern in this place, I must or I may not find my way home.”She was only half lying, Millennium city was not the only place to see the Raven mask. “Is strength your only ability?”
Girard slotted the tidbit about Raven Tale into the back of his mind for later since it was useful to remember. However her question did bring up a valid point in that the others might not know the full extent of his powers so he figured it wouldn’t hurt to say a little more. “The tissue density makes me very durable too besides that, helps with fights and the shock tactics keeping me from getting hurt for the most part.” He said keeping it a simple explanation since he honestly didn’t know how to put it better himself. Of course he went without saying for the moment just how many problems it caused as it prevented, best saved for later and only if someone really wanted to hear it or it was a necessary evil in a conversation. “Not the most power flexible I guess but it gets the job done with a little thinking.” The big man said speaking a big truth about a power such as his.
“Sounds like a useful ability, one that I will be sure to keep in mind when under fire.” So, she was right, he could snap her in half without trying, without thinking. And it only made her take a step away without realizing it.
“It's a grand ability to protect those who wish you harm. Who knows, maybe you may take the place of captain powerhouse, would make the news less insulting.”
Tank listened to Raven Tale talk and noticed the step away though he didn’t make a big deal of it knowing full well that him still sort of being a stranger and just being him was enough to keep people at a distance sometimes. “It has its upsides I guess, but most powers are a double edge sword and mine most certainly is at times.” He said frankly. However her quip at the rather annoying Powerhouse made him chuckle being highly amused by the concept though he it did make him think why he despised the man. “The man might be an ass, I won’t argue that, but it's his lack of restraint that bothers me, you can have glory but not at the cost of civilians.” Girard said clearly irked by the thought of what people considered his counterpart’s methods. Sure the two had some similarities but the overinflated ego mixed with a lack of control was going to get the other man in trouble eventually and honestly the big guy could see himself stepping in if it got too much.
“Indeed, the more one uses their abilities, the more hated they become.” Her hand absently feeling her book she began to think of her family, how they were not the best with supers due to some cheating in the arena with their powers.
Still, the lighter topic brought a smile to her lips. “Even I can see how he believes himself to be a god, a gift to mankind though all he has done was become an even larger threat than those he defeats. At least you hold back enough not to harm an innocent.”
She could hear the voices of one of the police officers, the glass door and the beep of a metal detector. “I believe this is the place, will you be so kind as to set him here?” She began tapping a step, just out of view from the station.
Girard noticed them walking up on the station though he didn’t want to interrupt his fellow vigilante while she was speaking, plus he figured she would probably notice quickly. After listening it seemed like the woman had hit the nail dead on as to what went through Powerhouse’s head and the acknowledgement of his control was a nice note. The big man kept a close eye around just in case any of the officers or straggler might be in eyeshot but he saw nothing so it was a good time to see what Raven Tale had in mind for getting attention from the cops inside. “Sure no problem.” The big guy said taking a moment to prop the man up using the stairs but back against the wall. “Should be all set to do your thing.”
“Than follow me” poking the poor soul on the ground to make sure he was not conscience she began to leave, walking down an alleyway so that they were far from prying eyes. Unclasping her book she rested it on her arm, fingers brushing the passage as she leaned against a brick wall. "He seeks where we are lost, eyes the color of moss, with heart beating true, he only wishes to find you." The sounds of claws scraping on the ground, she reached out to pet the Grim, coarse wiry fur under hand with scales down his legs and a few bones showing through his skin. “Station, you know what to do my friend.”
A strange growl was all that was given as he began to move. Running down the way they came, Raven began to count down from five. A smirk on her features when screams of alarm echoed, “And that is how you draw attention to whom you wish.” Pushing herself from the wall she stilled again, trying to figure out where she was.
“I thank you for the help, so, is there anything you have planned on this pale moon night?”
Tank followed not entirely sure what to expect from the woman since she had a couple tricks up her sleeve he imagined. Once the Grim appeared the big man got a good look at the creature and thought it was pretty cool all things considered and probably quite useful. Once Raven Tale gave the go ahead as the beast moved off heading back towards the station though it took a moment before he realized what the trick was once the sounds of alarm came from around the corner. Sending the creature out was certainly one way to get attention he had to admit thinking that he himself would probably be interested in following it if he was on the receiving end without having rationalized the tactic. “No problem, it was a happy accident. As for that I had a small hideout eyed up for tonight, some particularly tough customers from what I hear in there. If you're up to it you're welcome to join along for the ride, might be a nice exercise come to think of it.” Girard said at first quite pleased with the turnout and more than willing to share his target of the night to his teammate with interest in seeing if the woman might be up for a little more action.
Once the screams begin to fade from the Grim leaving. Raven Tale closed her book, the pages giving a loud thump before she strapped it back to her waist. Listening to the plan Tank had bubbling in his mind. And honestly, it did worry her, working with most worried her and she was the exact opposite of him. Still she allowed a smile to slip on her features, taking in a breath of misty air before tapping her cane.
“Why not, a night alongside a comrade seems like something I myself must get accustomed to.” Bowing her head a bit, she waited for the male to move, following after his footsteps over the slightly damp pavement.
Girard perked up hearing the woman accept his offer for the job, he thought it was a great opportunity to both figure out how they could work together and disrupt some of the local activity. Of course they might have to deal with it a bit more carefully in her case but the big guy had a feeling he could keep the attention of most of them during a confrontation if it came to it, which it most likely would. He started to lead them on a path that would put them behind the restaurant after a bit of walking and leave them some time to figure out an approach. “It's not too far from where we were, couple blocks at the most.” He said wanting to give her an approximate distance rather than leave her in the dark on the subject. “You seem to be doing well with this whole vigilante business, limitations or not, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Few blocks? Seems more than enough footsteps. Her cane raised just above the ground, she ran her finger over the Ebony handle. Her head tilted down as she found the giggling voices of teens out in the night as she listened to his words that soared above her head. “I despise being handheld, and that’s what I was given most of my story. Vigilant work was simply another path that allowed me to feel normal from time to time, least more so than I am outside the mask.”
“Don’t think a single person is normal, no one is ever normal around here.” Tank said honestly followed by a happy chuckle. “You probably fit in a lot more than you think here or there.” He panned around to see how close they were and saw they still had a little ways before they were in position. It made him wonder what it was like for someone who thought they were so different like that but it was hard for the big man considering his unique situation of never being normal from the start. The concept was a very foreign one but he supposed it had its reasons that he just wasn’t going to understand yet. “From everyone I’ve heard it always seems like a perspective thing, who is and isn’t normal. Just people making up rules in their heads.” Girard said broaching the subject further in his own way.
A bit of laughter escaped her at the idea that she could fit in. A sound that caused misty air to be pulled between her teeth. Well, Raven can yes, but Aurora? Not so much. How many times has she felt the eyes of others watching when she was doing mundane tasks? The clicking of her cane and paleness of her skin was said to be like a beacon that attracted attention wanted or not. “I guess it is in a way of perspective. Though I have yet to walk theses streets and not feel the gaze of many. Only when a mask is donning my features is when I’m free of the small burden. Though I assume tis something both of us face.”
Although he didn’t exactly know why the woman laughed or for what reason specifically but he would take it for now. “Hard not to turn heads when you're a head and sometimes shoulder above most people or when you're smaller and paler than them. Some people would kill for that kind of attention though it's probably not all it's cracked up to be.” Girard said humbly while trailing off slightly, almost an unconscious statement from him. It took a moment for the big guy to rebound but once he did he noticed they were getting awful close but he didn't want to interrupt if Raven Tale had anything left to say. Though he did stop and look quietly to check for visible activity.
“I would take a life to not gather one’s gaze. Makes my mind uneasy.” Shrugging her shoulders, she felt her cane brush against something that gave a ting, the rolling sensation making her think it’s a can as she walked past. The cracks in the sidewalk were becoming more frequent, the air passing by less and less. Buildings must be eating at their path, looming over them like a guard of sound. The air began taking on a smell of iron, rust even. “Seems we’re getting close, I can hear fighting...something breaking..Glass?”
Tank snapped to attention at the sound of glass shattering fully aware of the neighbourhood but also that such a thing doesn’t just happen for no reason around here. It sounded a bit muffled to him, kind of like it was inside a building rather than outside which he could see happening if the criminals in question were present. The target building was an old restaurant so there was a chance it could have been an old display case or container inside. However, unlike Raven Tale he couldn’t hear the fighting she spoke of from where they were but he had a damn good idea where it was happening. “If that's right than it sounds like our hosts are around tonight right on time, but the fighting is different for them. The place is an abandoned restaurant, small place, but I figure they might be in the front room close to the counter or a table.” Girard said relaying some information to his fellow vigilante now rather than later. “How do we want to approach this exactly? I’d like your thought on it.”
“Restaurant hmm?” Idea’s already playing in her head, Raven mentioned for Tank to stay put. No longer tapping her cane, she hovered it over the ground again. Her steps light, airy even as she moved off the side and across the street. Finding a spot that was nestled away from open air, she began to sit down, the dampness of the pavement reaching her clothes. Head lulled forward, her breathing and movements began to still.
She stayed like that for moments, to minutes. Ears keen as she picked up bits and pieces of what was told before making her way back to her companion.. “Seems there's a group, yelling at one individual about goods. Poor thing seems to be in tears.”
A sigh escaping her, she unclasped her book. Resting it on her arm. “It's a restaurant, meaning there must be a back door. Either you, or my wraith can enter from the front to cause chaos, only to be taken from the back. Simple, no?”
“Point made, always good to get a partners’ insight though. I think I’ll take the front given my...lack of stealth and get some attention. Let's get in there before it gets worse for whoever was on the receiving end of that, they should have any information if we need it.” The big guy said lightly patting the woman on the shoulder before moving off to get into position. He figured that there wasn’t much need for an alarm or signal between the two because if anything they weren’t going to be the only ones who heard the commotion. A plus for getting the police to come once they were done and gone letting the officers take over from there. Tank was glad there were shutters on the windows because they worked both ways at the moment hiding his profile from the men inside as he gave Raven Tale time to get into a decent position. Once he felt enough time had passed he back up slightly before blasting through the door into the old building to dish out some justice.
Quickly making her way to the back, hand on the building, Raven followed a crack she found in the wall, rounding a corner before shakily climbing a set of crates that groaned in protest before jumping down, a sigh of relief when she found that the handle under hand click in approval. She could already hear yells of alarm. Swear words and gun fire that hammered painfully against her ears, as they tried to take Tank down.
“Time of death, estimated at october 12th, 2010”
The sound of a shriek echoed through the halls, a comforting sound for the albino. But yells turned to screams. “What is that thing?!” “Fucking A! Shoot it!” The pounding boots, the slamming of bodies all bouncing off the walls. Raven herself joining in under the guide of her wraith, the scene of a nightmare as the corpse whispered over her, grabbing those who get to near, sucking away their energy as the life seeped from their eyes before slipping into unconsciousness.
Girard made his impression quite quickly upon entering delivering a solid punch to the first man who was closest as the rest fired shots at him to no effect. He turned around to lift one up by his collar before tossing him in the general direction of his partner’s wraith before kneeing one of the aggressors as he came running in for a pistol whip, he went down quickly and with several cracks accompanying it. Whoops. Between the big guy’s punches the next couple of men ended up against walls one with a definitely broken jaw and the other with more than the wind knocked out of him. Tank took a moment to look and see if there were anymore left standing given how quick and effective the assault had been but it appeared between the three of them the only remaining one was a man who was tied up to a chair looking a bit beaten up.
The sounds of crushing bones, gargled screams and flying body had caused Raven to be light on her feet. Her movements always half made, just ready to spring away if need be. By the time it was over she stilled, her cane of ebony still in her hand, gripped like a blade in her ghostly grasp, stance ready to attack for several moments till she finally heard Tank ease up. “Who still lies with open eyes?”
She could hear the harsh, slow breathing of the defeated. Her cane tapping one’s clothes as she made her way to Tank. Her wraith still following behind with haunting grace.
The man tied looked at them with fearful eyes. Wide like a newborn fawn as he squirmed at the sight of the two beasts that caused more terror than the gang ever could. His skin was raw from where the rope bit him. Shaggy brown hair plastered to his brow with sweat. Brown eyes laced with pain, one eye reddened and bruised, glasses by his feet. His vision was still dizzy, head swinging side to side in a rhythmic pattern. But even so, he could make out the giant and the elf. “Please..Please I don’t have anything on me, I swear if I did I would give it to you. I..I just want to get back to my kids.
Voice quivering, he watched with baited breath as death vanished. “Where...where did it go?” He couldn’t help but ask, yet the one dressed in black only offered a uncharacteristically kind smile. “Do not fear us, we offer no harm, do you need medical attention?”
“No...no, I, I just have to get back to my store before they take everything. I’m...I’m loosing everything.”
Girard took the time to look the man over closer while Raven Tale handled the talking for the first part. It definitely could have ended worse for him, he was a lucky man in that respect but it sounded like his troubles had yet to end if what he said was right about the thieves. Of course if that was the case it seemed like tonight was going to get all the more interesting since they uncovered something a bit bigger than he thought initially. This shit just gets more complicated all the time. He thought having the urge to rub his temples but he resisted. “How about you tell us where this place they’re robbing is while I get these ropes off you, no need for them.” The big guy said moving over to work on the surprisingly well tied restraints.
The man simply watched, he found his mouth dry as he studied the two. The large man seemed to be kind, careful as he tried to free him. And while the girl’s beast was a hellish thing in itself, he started to realize that she was the size of a child, hardly even reaching his shoulder as he stood. “I...I got a shipment of goods from a partner company..they, they had high quality goods, and I was getting a higher income. I tried to keep it from getting too out in the open but not even a month in, they found out….”
He mentioned them with an incline of his head. Watching while the girl tapped an unconscious male by her feet with the strange rod in her hands. “Do you trust us to help you?” He found his breath cut short at the words, looking at them again, only to picture his shop being ransacked. “I, my store, it's a tech pawn shop...back to the future, I know, my daughter came up with the name, it's near first street.”
Like a switch, he watched the girl become animated once more. Moving across the room after bowing her head in thanks. “We will clear them out. Tank, if you follow I have Dullahan, she can get us there in a moment before they leave.”
The big man listened as his partner worked to getting a bit more information out of the distraught man who had been looking closely at them mostly in fear before but calming down once they didn’t continue the bad night he had been having. Wasn’t hard to tell why the two could be intimidating or terrifying at times, it tended to help when dealing with criminals using fear as a weapon because it made them think twice or kept them on edge. It was a strategy Tank made extensive use of as his sudden assaults left little room for else besides maybe anger in the higher ups because of its effectiveness. As the man said what the thieves were after it made plenty of sense how aggressive they were like, taking the owner to prevent further issues, he hadn’t been wrong about them being tough nuts after all. The name and location of the shop were something he would dedicate to memory so he might spend a little extra patrol time in the area after tonight just in case, but he had something to say before they left in a hurry.
“Police should be here soon enough, you tell them what happened and they’ll take care of you from here. Stay safe.” Girard said before following after Raven Tale with a question in mind. “Sounds good whatever a Dullahan is.”
"Its hooves of thunder shall carry another. Under the guise for eyes that have not yet seen, it shall punish those, who have yet to bleed." The words fell from her lips as she left the building, back to the open streets and away from prying eyes.
The sound of a great stead fit for the horsemen themselves echoed across the streets in ghastly moans. The clicking of hooves on pavement and the heavy breathing of something large. Yet all that was seen before them, stood a motorcycle. Black in color with little else, yet shown strength that many people would fawn over. “Dullahan is how I get from place to place, a sweet thing till she shows her true self.”
With light steps she put her cane away and climbed on. Taking the handles and turning her head back in Tank’s direction. “Causes less of a disturbance.”
Girard watched not entirely sure what he was seeing but he would go with it regardless if it meant they got to the store faster. There were still more than a few things he didn’t understand about the female vigilante or her powers but if anything she seemed very dedicated to dealing with the city’s crime problem and he couldn’t fault that. However one thing he did like was the kickass ride in front of him and while he walked everywhere out of necessity, mostly, taking a ride would be a nice change of pace. The only thing that had him maybe more than a little worried was the fact he was letting a blind person drive him but it was the only way he was going to get there particularly fast. Tank moved up to the vehicle and sat down still mildly uncomfortable but in the mindset to get it over with quickly. “Time to go give them another caning.” He said eager to be back on his feet and kicking ass soon.
She could tell the Tank was uncomfortable. But honestly she felt like she didn’t want to tell him it was not her driving. Let the guy think he was being lead by the blind. Nodding her head at the words, she grabbed hold of the handles, her hands feeling leather beneath, knowing it had to be the reins. “First street” with the words spoken the beast flared to life. A whinny that sounded worlds away as they sped off into the night, the city streets becoming a blur as they cut corners, and passed others with ease, vanishing before people could even turn their heads.
“Ease up”
Again dullahan responded. Slowing her strides in another part of town that seemed to be quiet. Void of life aside from the winds that stirred trash about the streets. Climbing off she waited to hear Tank do the same before she asked the beast to disperse in a wave of wispy smoke.
Girard was in disbelief at first that they were going as fast as they were, of course he had never exactly gone this fast before but once it got through to him, he was just impressed. He thought it was an amazing thing to have as much utility that Raven Tale did as compared to someone like him who was usually very straight forward. It wasn’t that he didn’t get creative occasionally but it took a bit of thinking and often ended up causing a mess even more so than normal which kept him away from it. There was barely any time to register where they were before the motorcycle had slowed down and his partner had jumped off only waiting on him to do the same which he did quickly as to not hold them up. “Hell of a ride.” The big guy said honestly having enjoyed in it a way but also feeling maybe a bit more confident that the female vigilante’s powers were extremely useful.
“Should cast your gaze upon her true form one day. She’s quite the sight I assume.” Nodding her head in thanks, she began to take her cane back out, feeling the curb and stepping from the street. She could smell smoke, and rain. A strange combo that caused her nose to scrunch up when introduced to the trash. “Come, can’t be fa-”
The sound of rummaging, a building coming to life with more than a few people. Common sounds of a ransacked home causing the woman to start to move. “They must have gone through the back, they’ll be thicker there, you go and I’ll keep them from escaping.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Tank said quite curious but it would have to wait for the moment prompting him to follow his partner. It was certainly not the best part of town so to speak but it certainly wasn’t as dirty or crime filled as a couple other major areas in the city which made it a little more bearable for the big man, though you’d rarely catch him complaining. Tonight was a bit more active it seemed, especially with the noise that was being kicked up in a nearby building which had interrupted Raven Tale. As soon as she mention the back of the building Girard was on the move to cut off the thieves in a hurry though he did catch some of the back half of the sentence it wasn’t entirely clear but it was hard not to get the drift. He was ready to blitz the criminals if necessary but and ambush was what he would have preferred, but either was workable.
Inside was ravaged. Tables flipped boxes open and their treasures thrown about like copper coins. The harsh whispers growing louder as the group began to find what they were looking for. Becoming less and less careful, their worries cast aside as they began to believe that no one would punish them for their deeds.
“I’ll keep an eye out” the voice was cocky. Steps heavy as he made his way to the front. A bit taller than Raven but not by much, she listened to his words to find him. The male made only one mistake in not looking forward, causing himself to be met with an ebony cane pushed harshly against his throat, air being stolen from his lungs while the door behind them burst forward. Swears and curses exploding, creating more of a scene only for the man’s world to turn black. “Get the shit! Come on get out!”
As they ran forward, they were met with the jaws of a beast. “He only wishes to find you” a haunting voice as she sent the Grim even further into the building, herself met with a spar when someone came at her with a bat. Adrenaline burst through her veins, ducking low to the ground only to feel the weapon fly over her head, just a breath away. Kicking out at him she dove for his legs, bringing him down with her, her fist colliding with his nose with all the force she had, knocking him out.
Bang!
A hot searing pain ripped through the sleeve of her coat from inside the building. Raven did not even have the time to voice her surprise, when another hand was brought to her shoulder, her head flying back only for the skull upon her face to crack against his features, listening as the body ragged with pain fell to her feet.
The crash from the back culminated in a door flying into one of the criminals sending him to the floor, a bit of foreshadowing for what was to come for the rest. While Raven Tale engaged the two at the front the big man swiftly followed behind the door delivering a punch to the nearest man sending him into a wall and brought an arm up to deflect a crowbar which groaned in protest as it bent back. The owner of the weapon made a similar sound when he received a ‘light’ kick to the gut. Tank was in a rhythm up until he heard the gunshot from not that far away, it wouldn’t have bother him if it was at him but he felt nothing so there was only one answer to the thief's target of choice. He blurred out momentarily holding the shooting arm of the gunman pulling up as the man shot once more causing it to hit the ceiling instead though he saw another man was going to attempt to free his comrade only to take a backhand slap to the face taking him out. The currently restrained man struggled to try weaseling out of the big man’s grip to no avail and now he had the man’s undivided attention. Girard noticed out of the corner of his eye one of the scum had recovered from getting knocked aside before and made a clumsy dash for the back entrance. Thinking quick the giant hefted up the gunman and launched him straight at the other criminal with surprising accuracy, he had done this before, taking both out in one a fell swoop. His blood was still buzzing as he scanned around for new threats though he was worried about his fellow vigilante now that he was more aware of himself. “You alright?” He called to Raven Tale hoping for a decent answer since the woman had been shot at.
“Just a graze, nothing a drink won’t fix.” Her voice showing the woman was out of breath, she let a curse fall from her lips when she began to listen to the retreating footfalls. Hurried things that were sure to have been scarred for some time.
Eyes snapping open under the mask, the woman turned in the direction of Tank. The distant sounds of sirens dancing through the streets. “Time to go,” without another word she ran, her riding boots clicking against the stone streets, almost tripping on a crack before turning into what seems like another alleyway a few streets down.
Girard was glad to hear it wasn’t a direct hit, still not a great thing but it would do all things considered. He had also picked up on some of the footsteps but they were faint to him so chasing them was a lost cause for him at least. That was only reinforced when the police sirens appeared shortly after the other vigilante mentioned them. He bolted shortly after her deciding to take a bit of a roundabout route away from the shop initially be aiming for the same general direction Raven Tale had gone towards. He started to slow down after a little bit once he was pretty sure no one was following him but continued walking while keeping eyes and ears open.
Sides heaving, and wounded, Raven leaned her back on the alley wall. The sound of distant sirens being nothing more than a melody in the back of her mind. “You are slow my friend, can you not keep you with the blind?” A smirk on her lips, she waited for the lumbering steps of Tank following close behind. “Tis was a grand night I shall admit, yet even I can tell that Dawn shall approach soon and I do not do well in sunlight.”
Tank turned to face Raven Tale once she spoke, he had admittedly missed her in the dark area what with the black costume. “Rather be slow and unpredictable to everyone else.” He said with a little laugh. He had a quick listen to the other vigilante and had to agree with her about it being a good run for them. He had to admit it was a shame how close it was to being light around the city but he had nothing but family time to take over yesterday so a long night worked out well. “We should do it again sometime, you get yourself fixed up and have a good sleep though. I gotta get back home, stay safe.” Girard said remarking on the night a little and voicing his mild concern quickly. He wasn’t wrong that he had to go even if the activities were going to be later on but he would rather not fall asleep during them. The big guy gave a quick wave before remembering Raven Tale was blind again and mentally shrugged before heading out for his apartment.
“And to you as well my friend, may your path lead to fortune upon fate.” Bowing her head a bit in thanks, the woman called forth Dullahan, the echoing whinny running down the alley, a shadow showing on the city streets of a great horse missing it’s head. Hopping on she put her cane away, the first sun rays starting to caress her coat. “Till we meet again, maybe next time it will be without the destruction of someone’s creation.”
With the spoken words she sped off on the creation, the distant hum of a motorcycle followed by the ghostly whinny. | Name:Aurora Lorell
Quote:"One should never fear the dark. Just enjoy the light you have left."
Alias: Raven tale
Age: 22
Gender: female
Family: Father: Rick Lorell, Mother: Sarah Lorell
Occupation: Horse trainer and olympic rider.
Aurora is seen to be a beauty. With a lean build and fair skin standing in at around 5,2. Her eyes are what really set her apart besides the snowy form. Red and clouded as though in a veil of mist she almost always keeps them closed due to being bullied as a child. Many saying they are unnerving to look at.
Method of Operation: No one knows that its truly her. Those that have gained her help have only seen the creatures that she calls forth. Usually beasts from mythology that have few features. If shes forced to be seen she stays silent, trying to keep her age and gender a secret. If anyone found out who she was, the world would find out everything about her in minutes.
Instead she uses her tour as a way to keep her location foggy. Being a world and Olympic rider, she has been to all corners of the world. Each one earning a job or two from her. Her method of transportation is a horse she had conjured herself, what she sees as the only link one could give her. Still she reminds herself that she should never get involved with things too big, but the chance to use her abilities has always been too tempting.
Superpower: Aurora has the ability to conjure beasts from stories she has read or been told. Using a leather bound journal as a catalyst to recite the right lines to call forth her companions. She found that the larger impact a story holds to her, the easier it is to call her creatures. Though strange enough she has found that it is more difficult to create that which is already in this world. Being able to make a wraith she has massive difficult in creating a bird.
Many would think this ability is limitless. Sadly Aurora must read or hear the tale in which her conjure is being made from. Even than she can't always make them unless it had a impact on her in some way. Because of this she has a habit of asking others for stories. Any kind hoping that she could advance her abilities further.
Her biggest weakness is that this only works when she has a sound mind and when the book is open. Growing up taming thousand pound animals has made her difficult to frighten. But if she falls pray to fear, the companions she had called would turn on her. If her book is closed her train of thought would break, causing the creatures to disperse and leave her side.
Skills: an amazing horse back rider, her hearing is better than most. Memory is above average. Shes been told that her voice is rather calming due to her nature. Shes also had a good chance of catching a lie so long as it's spoken.
Equipment: Book of tales. Every story is written in Braille. Because of this she keeps it hidden from view and no one has yet to look through it's pages. If someone found out what was inside than the trail would be short in finding out that Aurora is the owner.
Personality: Aurora is a seeker of knowledge. Someone who needs to know things small and large. Heavy and light. This was due to the fact that she was born blind, growing up with being sheltered and lead around she found herself growing tired of the treatment quickly. Even though she would have a pilot smile when someone offers to take her hand or tell her where something is, she would find herself loathing on the inside. Wanting to be as independent as she can be. Pushing herself to be better at what she dose to prove to those around her that she dose not need her eyes in order to live her life. She thinks that many who help her do it not for herself, but so they could feel better. Thinking that they would be a hero for a small moment, she can not stand the thought of being a tool used in someone's self need to feel important. And thus it has only added to her independence.
Yet even with the quite demands of independence, Aurora is a calming presence. Soft spoken shes not one to raise her voice. When it comes to her friends, she is usually the one to end a fight with words alone. Comforting others when they are in need not using sayings of encouragement, but sitting at their side in silence.
She had an interesting habit though. When in good company she tends to speak in riddles, thinking that it's due to the stories she obsesses over, she tries her best to keep it under wraps. Even so, those who she calls friends will tell her she slipped back into her odd way of speaking.
Her greatest fear is being in absolute silence, she also tends to tap her finger on her cane. Sound is her greatest asset and without it she turns into a shell of her usual self. Fumbling over words and sometimes not able to use her powers safely.
Biography: Aurora was born into the business of horses. Her father a trick rider and her mother a cross country racer, the two were a power house in the horse world. Before she was even born they were getting her ready with what style and what horse she would ride, only for their dreams to be crushed when they saw her for the first time. A tiny albino who's retinas never even developed leaving her blind.
yet that did not stop the girl from living up to her family's potential. She became connected with the animals that her family made a living from. Every fall she went through, she would stand from, no injury would ever scare her away. The feeling of power a horse would give was too great to leave. Where in any other situation she would be led around and treated like a child. In the arena she was expected to handle things herself and for once she herself could be the leader. At age six she was competing in not only trick riding, but cross country and dressage.
Having a love for the stories that her mother would read her. Aurora began to print Braille in her own journal, often reading them out loud to her horse. After all, he was the only one that could deal with a 13 year old speaking for hours at a time. Sleeping in the stalls with her books clutched in hand the journal only grew thicker, and heavier. Till eventually the words she recited caused the animal to spook. Thrashing in the box and causing her to scramble out, screams of rage and fear ringing through the stable.
Before she knew it her parents were at her side, asking her what was wrong yet whatever had caused the damage was gone. Again and again it had happened, each time with her reading. Its taken her two full months to find out that the cause of her horse’s spooking was the conjuration of creatures from her own words.
Her own abilities.
Another idea that she could gain independence she began to work. Conducting experiments to figure out the rights and wrongs of her abilities. Its taken her years to find things out on her own. By the time she was 17 she was a competitor in the Olympics. Finally a chance where she was away from those who thought she needed them. All she needed was her book and her cane. Once walking through the stable halls at night. Checking her companion to make sure their first run in the Olympics would be fine. Yet as she opened the door she found something was wrong.
Her stallion named Beauty in a Shadow, was gone.
Her first thought was to contact the security to find him. Fear gripping her mind she could still remember the sweat that ran down her palms as she gripped her cane. Yet when she clicked it on the stone ground she made up her mind. Her book in hand she ran her finger across the pages. "With eyes made for night, and fire as fierce as a devil's light. He tracked down hunters of his land. And made them swear he could never stand." The sound of light feet pattering next to her she found a smile on her lips when the sound of a ragged fox was found at her side. To her eyes there was blank. Yet to anyone who saw it was a fox with two tails, told in Japanese lore to be the devil in a different skin, with eyes of lit green and a scroll strapped to it's back. "Find Beauty." It was all she said, and it was all she needed to. That night she took matters into her own hands as the fox lead her through the halls. Away from the stable and out to the parking lot to hear the half drugged screams of her stallion.
That night something snapped, she no longer used her abilities to gain a smile as she called forth a crimson wraith from the tale "a wife in the bog." The gut wrenching shrieks and screams rang true to her ears. the creature she chosen playing on their fear, having them see a different story as it led them away, leaving her stallion.
she never been so frightened for her horse in her life. Ever since she vowed to make sure that nothing like that would happen to another creature. To another ride, another person, so long as she could help it. She knew it was not just for others though, she never felt so needed until that moment. Like she could actually do something outside her own family. That she could accomplish something on her own. Its difficult for her still, not even her parents know about her second hobby. Her father even looks at those with powers in fear.
At age 18 she ended up moving out. She couldn't risk her family finding out that she was Raven's Tale. Shes done everything to keep that name down. To keep herself hidden so that they would never find out it was her. What if she gained a enemy? What if someone wanted her hurt and they found out that the one they were after was just a blind woman who lived alone?
She was living a dangerous game. And yet, even still as she told herself over and over again that she was playing with fire. She could not stop. The sense of power too intoxicating, the thankful words too well received. She still competes in competitions, but Aurora still finds herself with a smile on her lips whenever she would hear that someone was saved by a strange beast.
She just hopes that the day when she finds herself in deep water would come later. Much, much later.
"We are not normal."
friesian stallion who she named Loki as a barn name he was registered as Beauty in Shadow. He's the only living creature who knows Aurora has abilities. |
43,544 | 1,194 | 0 | 989 | 495 | Current missions and shop items
Please check back here often as things will change frequently. Make sure a mission is available before having your character select it.
Contracts and missions available:Missions are rated between 1 and 5 stars, 1 being the easiest and 5 being the hardest
Rating: 1 star Location: Orlind Quest Giver: Yousuf Hamed Task: My family wants to move closer to the ocean but we have too much to move by ourselves. Reward: 300 Yule Minimum Number of Guild Members in Party: 1 Member
Quest picked up by: Still available
Rating: 1 star Location: Orlind Quest Giver: Ares the Guild Master Task: There are rare stones buried somewhere in the middle of the desert that can only be seen at night due to their green glow when struck properly by moonlight. Gather 3 of them. Reward: 300 Yule Minimum Number of Guild Members in Party: 1 Member
Quest picked up by: Mable of Orstwych -
Rating: 2 star Location: Glinnery Quest Giver: Ares the Guild Master Task: Within the lake near Saarelyn there are large stones at the deepest point. If you break open the stones you will find pearlescent gems. Please recover 2 of them. Reward: 350 Yule Minimum Number of Guild Members in Party: 1 Member
Quest picked up by: Still available
Rating: 2 stars Location: Glour Quest Giver: Aretmis of the Guild Task: Gather up the rare Ivory stones located near the lakes in the northern region of Glour. 4 are required Reward: The long sword of Ivory, a full sized sword sharp enough to cut down medium sized foes with minimal effort. Minimum Number of Guild Members in Party: 1 Member This is a recurring quest
Quest picked up by: Still available
Rating: 2.5 star Location: Tinudren, Nimdre Quest Giver: Ares the Guild Master Task: The traders here will be delivering rare pelts and artefacts. They will ask you do complete a task for them in exchange for these pelts. Do the task and bring back the items.Reward: 1500 Yule Minimum Number of Guild Members in Party: 2 Members
Quest picked up by: Still available
Rating: 3 star Location: Glour Quest Giver: Alvin Strunker Village leader Task: There is a very large elk of majestic nature in the northern forests near the edge of the land that has been spotted. Legand says if you can get close enough to this particular creature and touch it's coat you will have good hunting for many years. Please escort the 6 sons of the village who are coming of age from Blurant to the northern corner on foot. There are many dangerous creatures along the way but with this blessing, the sons will be powerful hunters. Reward: 3200 Yule Minimum Number of Guild Members in Party: 2 Members
Quest picked up by: Still available
Rating: 1 star Location: Iving, Irbel Quest Giver: Farmer Francis Task: Please help me pull out the poisonous Tenical Weeds from my farm, they are destroying my plants and lively hood Reward: 400 Yule Minimum Number of Guild Members in Party: 1 Member
Quest picked up by: Mable of Orstwych - and Pascal Marduk -
Rating: 2 stars Location: Iving, Irbel Quest Giver: Merchant Franklin Task: There's a pack of maybe 15 wolves killing merchants travelling to Draetre, Nimdre. Please eliminate themReward: 1500 Yule plus you can keep the pelts Minimum Number of Guild Members in Party: 2 Members
Quest picked up by: Alfie Reid - , Nihus Yorkek - and Zhang "Jane" LiangYing -
Rating: 3 stars Location: Orstwych Quest Giver: Seamus Garson Task: Large boar have been attacking the travelling caravans in this area Reward: 3000 Yule for every 5 killed Minimum Number of Guild Members in Party: 2 Members
Quest picked up by: Serigan the Cutter - , Mable of Orstwych - and Pascal Marduk -
Food and Drink available:Food options change on occasion, be sure to check the menu often!
Drinks:
Type of Drink: Water Drink description: From the purest springs in the Mountains Price: Free
Type of Drink: Juice Drink description: Depending on what fruit is brought it is what the juice is made from. Current Flavor: Apple Price: 2 Yule
Type of Drink: Ale Drink description: Brought in from Glinnery Price: 6 Yule
Type of Drink: Whiskey Drink description: 10 years aged whiskey, smooth finish and warming effects Price: 10 Yule
Type of Drink: Mixed drinks Drink description: Drinks mixed with various fruits as they arrive. Current mixture: Apple Price: 15 Yule
Type of Drink: Wine Drink description: Comes in red and white, a simple wine that is only slightly dry Price: 10 Yule
Food:
Type of food: Bread Food description: Baked fresh daily within the guild Price: 1 Yule
Type of food: Bacon Food description: Crispy, greasy and delicious Price: 2 Yule
Type of Food: Stew Food description: A warm freshly made bowl of stew made with whatever meat is available at the time. Current meat: Pork Price: 6 Yule
Type of Food: Meat pie Food description: Made in house with whatever meat is currently available. Current Meat: Pork Price: 8 Yule
Type of Food: Steak Food description: Grilled and seared with 12 seasonings to your preference. Comes with boiled potatoes and a bread roll. Price: 15 Yule
Weapons and Armour for Sale:These are often the same items and prices. Rare weapons are available as quests come up for them
Weapon Sharpening: After using your weapon a while, it will need it's dull blade sharpened. Do it yourself or have the blacksmith to it. Price: 6 Yule
Armour Buffing: As your armour gets used, it will develop weak points where it's been hit. Bring it to the blacksmith for repairs. Price: 8 Yule
Weapons:
Item Type: Sword General Description: A basic sword, deals an average amount of damage to enemies Price: 200 Yule
Item Type: Spear General Description: A basic spear, deals an average amount of damage to enemies Price: 210 Yule
Item Type: Two handed Sword General Description: A basic sword, deals a slightly more then average amount of damage to enemies. Movements are often slow with this item equipped. Price: 300 Yule
Item Type: Bow General Description: Carved from the wood of the trees in Irbel, about a 40lb draw, deals an average amount of damage Price: 300 Yule
Item Type: Arrows General Description: Basic Iron arrows sold in a set of 5 at a time Price: 10 Yule
Armour:
Item Type: Light Armour Set (6 pieces) General Description: Lightweight and easy to move around in. Gives a basic armour protection against smaller attacksPrice: 550 Yule for the set or 100 per piece
Item Type: Medium Armour Set (6 pieces) General Description: A little heavier and stiffer then the light armour but still with somewhat easy moving ability Price: 700 Yule for the set or 150 per piece
Item Type: Heavy Armour Set (6 pieces) General Description: Offers the best protection against attacks but greatly reduces movement speeds. Price: 900 Yule for the set or 200 per piece
Potions for Sale:These are often the same items and prices. Special potions and poisons may be available upon request.
Item Type: Strength Potion General Description: Will briefly boost your overall strength for a short duration Price: 50 Yule
Item Type: Headache Potion General Description: Will reduce then remove headache symptoms Price: 15 Yule
Item Type: Healing Potion General Description: Should be consumed before sleep and will quicken the healing process of wounds received during battle. Price: 35 Yule | Name: Ares (Are-Es)
Age: 53
Height: 6' 4" or 193cm
Build: Somewhat slender and tall
Weapon of choice: One medium length sword and throwing knives
Basic Skills: Extremely persuasive in matters of importance, nimble and an expert level swordsman.
Personality: Does not often strike up a conversation unless something important is to be discussed. He won't turn you away and will listen intently of all matters brought to his attention but is usually deep in thought on matters of importance brought up by the comity.
Occupation before joining the guild: Draykon Mercenary
Basic origin story: Worked for the Draykon comity for many years as a mercenary until he began exploring the mountains or Irbel and discovered the ruins of an ancient landmark, almost like a throne room of some kind. He pulled together some of the lower ranking mercenaries and built what is now the guild. After discussing the prospect of the guild to the comity it was approved immediately with the condition that Ares become an adviser to the comity and report any suspicious on goings to them.
NPCs:
The Administrator
Athena is the Administrator. She is the person who receives a missions before posting them on the notice board. When picking up, turning in, or collecting a reward on a mission, she is the one you need to talk to. You would also speak to her about additional details on a mission if you feel you need them. She is quiet and soft spoken most of the time but will always be sure your questions are answered.
The Blacksmith or Weapons and Armour Master
Artemis is stubborn and hard headed but, she is the best blacksmith in all of Draykon. She'll get on you if your not routinely getting your weapons and armour checked out for defects or tune-ups. She worked for the mercenaries of Draykon before they became the guild.
The Apothecary
Hygiea is a very skilled and wise apothecary. She may be an older woman but her knowledge of the art of herb mixtures and potion making is seemingly second to none. She is very humble and gracious often wishing adventures well off as they leave for missions.
The Bartender
Hathor is eccentric and lively. She was once an adventurer as well but found she enjoyed the food and drink more then the adventuring. Now she works the lounge giving energy and enthusiasm to the room. Hathor is extremely flirtatious if you get her talking for too long but it is mostly all in good humour. |
43,545 | 1,194 | 1 | 989 | 495 | The story so far:Please check here if you feel you may have missed something important.
Draykon is a small world consisting of seven countries. These countries are ruled by a comity consisting of one elected official from each of the seven countries. Our guild master often joins these meetings to discuss issues and work as a councillor to the comity members.
Our adventurers receive missions and contracts from throughout Draykon and carry them out.
Two major missions have just been completed, each one delivering a mysterious letter to the guild master who left in a hurry to attend a comity meeting. Alfie Reid - , Nihus Yorkek - and Zhang "Jane" LiangYing - all passed on during their final mission from what seems to be bandits rather then their mission purpose. | Name: Ares (Are-Es)
Age: 53
Height: 6' 4" or 193cm
Build: Somewhat slender and tall
Weapon of choice: One medium length sword and throwing knives
Basic Skills: Extremely persuasive in matters of importance, nimble and an expert level swordsman.
Personality: Does not often strike up a conversation unless something important is to be discussed. He won't turn you away and will listen intently of all matters brought to his attention but is usually deep in thought on matters of importance brought up by the comity.
Occupation before joining the guild: Draykon Mercenary
Basic origin story: Worked for the Draykon comity for many years as a mercenary until he began exploring the mountains or Irbel and discovered the ruins of an ancient landmark, almost like a throne room of some kind. He pulled together some of the lower ranking mercenaries and built what is now the guild. After discussing the prospect of the guild to the comity it was approved immediately with the condition that Ares become an adviser to the comity and report any suspicious on goings to them.
NPCs:
The Administrator
Athena is the Administrator. She is the person who receives a missions before posting them on the notice board. When picking up, turning in, or collecting a reward on a mission, she is the one you need to talk to. You would also speak to her about additional details on a mission if you feel you need them. She is quiet and soft spoken most of the time but will always be sure your questions are answered.
The Blacksmith or Weapons and Armour Master
Artemis is stubborn and hard headed but, she is the best blacksmith in all of Draykon. She'll get on you if your not routinely getting your weapons and armour checked out for defects or tune-ups. She worked for the mercenaries of Draykon before they became the guild.
The Apothecary
Hygiea is a very skilled and wise apothecary. She may be an older woman but her knowledge of the art of herb mixtures and potion making is seemingly second to none. She is very humble and gracious often wishing adventures well off as they leave for missions.
The Bartender
Hathor is eccentric and lively. She was once an adventurer as well but found she enjoyed the food and drink more then the adventuring. Now she works the lounge giving energy and enthusiasm to the room. Hathor is extremely flirtatious if you get her talking for too long but it is mostly all in good humour. |
43,546 | 1,194 | 2 | 989 | 495 | Location: The White Lily
Morning rose over the mountain peaks of Irbel flooding through the windows of the tucked away guild of the White Lily. The ever moving sounds of the waterfall surrounding it filling the entryway each time the doors opened and closed as movements began to awaken within the exquisite building.
The smell of freshly made breakfast and muffins fills the lounge with Hathors phenomenal cooking, her short physique wondering the kitchen and bar to prepare for hungry guild members. Each table held a basket filled with the moist muffins next to it a plate of fresh eggs and a beaker of water sitting beside goblets. Next to her at the notice board was the fair skinned, white haired Athena who artfully put up the new notices of the day nodding or shaking her head with each one as she reread them with each posting. Her eyes found them a place on the board so they would each be read and stand out enough to catch a searching adventurer.
From within the marketplace sat Artemis on top of her stand with a whetstone in hand sharpening her newest blade, surrounding her were pieces on display of different suits of armour and various different lengths of arrows all new and in pristine condition. Across the way was Hygiea, grinding away at her mortar and pestle, mixing herbs. She stopped occasionally to smell her concoction and maybe add a few ingredients here and there before either putting it in a small leather sack or boiling it into a potion then bottling it before putting it on display.
The rhythm of the guild at work almost seemed musical as the four women went about their daily morning routines. It was alive and anxious to begin it's day of wandering and adventuring. | Name: Ares (Are-Es)
Age: 53
Height: 6' 4" or 193cm
Build: Somewhat slender and tall
Weapon of choice: One medium length sword and throwing knives
Basic Skills: Extremely persuasive in matters of importance, nimble and an expert level swordsman.
Personality: Does not often strike up a conversation unless something important is to be discussed. He won't turn you away and will listen intently of all matters brought to his attention but is usually deep in thought on matters of importance brought up by the comity.
Occupation before joining the guild: Draykon Mercenary
Basic origin story: Worked for the Draykon comity for many years as a mercenary until he began exploring the mountains or Irbel and discovered the ruins of an ancient landmark, almost like a throne room of some kind. He pulled together some of the lower ranking mercenaries and built what is now the guild. After discussing the prospect of the guild to the comity it was approved immediately with the condition that Ares become an adviser to the comity and report any suspicious on goings to them.
NPCs:
The Administrator
Athena is the Administrator. She is the person who receives a missions before posting them on the notice board. When picking up, turning in, or collecting a reward on a mission, she is the one you need to talk to. You would also speak to her about additional details on a mission if you feel you need them. She is quiet and soft spoken most of the time but will always be sure your questions are answered.
The Blacksmith or Weapons and Armour Master
Artemis is stubborn and hard headed but, she is the best blacksmith in all of Draykon. She'll get on you if your not routinely getting your weapons and armour checked out for defects or tune-ups. She worked for the mercenaries of Draykon before they became the guild.
The Apothecary
Hygiea is a very skilled and wise apothecary. She may be an older woman but her knowledge of the art of herb mixtures and potion making is seemingly second to none. She is very humble and gracious often wishing adventures well off as they leave for missions.
The Bartender
Hathor is eccentric and lively. She was once an adventurer as well but found she enjoyed the food and drink more then the adventuring. Now she works the lounge giving energy and enthusiasm to the room. Hathor is extremely flirtatious if you get her talking for too long but it is mostly all in good humour. |
43,547 | 1,194 | 3 | 1,508 | 484 | A first mission would be a good test of her own prowess in these lands. Mable smiled staring at the level three missions excited. It would be amazing to claim those rewards. Mable also accepted that she'd need a lot more practice. A table nearby had a wonderful smell so taking the farming poster she took her seat. Mable slid the fresh eggs on to her plate sighing content. There were few things more enjoyable then watching the yoke pop on an again. Mable waved sweetly to the blacksmith. Mable strapped on her leather gloves after a delicious breakfast stretching. In case of trouble on the road Mable strapped on her weapons. The guild was a blaze with activity, but mable avoided her guildmates hurrying to be the first there and back again.
Mable walked the farm nearby as she passed beneath large apple trees her hand took a few for her lunch. It would be hard but easy work Francis always being an easy customer. Mable walked over to the farm a few pigs hurrying to investigate her. Mable went straight to work letting Francis sleep as she started pulling up vines. | Name: Mable of Orstwych
Appearance: A young woman with cold blue eyes and red hair. A worn reinforced leather armor wrapped around her.
Age: 22
Height: 5'8
Build: Muscled but plump
Weapon of choice: A longsword and shield with two throwing knives.
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 2205 Yule
Current items in possession: A weeks rations, Reinforced leather armor, An iron shield, two iron daggers, and a iron long sword.
Basic Skills: Basic Tracking, mild resistance to cold temperatures, and basic equipment repairs
Personality: Mable is brave but also aggressive almost to a fault. She will rarely refuse a challenge but values a fair fight. Mable is smart, but impatient refusing to plan more then her next four moves when considering an attack. IT should be said however that her main trait is fearsome loyalty to those she calls her friends willing to ride into any danger to protect them.
Occupation before joining the guild: Wandering mercenary
Basic origin story: Mable was a simple woman at first. She lived in her camp with her husband. Mable often would hunt clubbing enemies to death with her wood club and shield. Mable had been married at fifteen to her beloved and they spent four happy years together. The forth year however while Mable was hunting her mate went to the council. He made claims that she was barren so they granted him a second wife. In a month the new wife was great with child. Mable was repaid for her years of affection by betrayal.
In her rage Mable beat her husband to death before fleeing into the snowy wastes. A long time later when Mable was starving she accepted the offer of a mercenary band. They quickly discovered her ferocity as she beat individuals to death with her club. When it shattered Mable took up the sword. One dark night her allies betrayed her trying to sell her as a slave on the black market. Mable killed her once allies and headed west alone seeking there fabled lands. Upon hearing of the guild decided she'd seek out a family in the guild having heard they were loyal souls. |
43,548 | 1,194 | 4 | 1,204 | 37 | Pascal Marduk
Pascal came out of the washroom refreshed. His morning rituals would have been considered unhealthily strenuous for an ordinary man, but his body was accustomed to that type of workout, and a quick bath was all he needed to transform the strain into vigor. Furthermore, the bath was free at such early hours so that he could enjoy the quiet echo of the water in the lonely lavatory, and once he would be done, walking back to his room, before the others would clump at the washroom door.
His bed was meticulously made, the clothes folded and resting on the chair. He stood in front of the opened window and inhaled vigorously, the humidity of the waterfall lingered in his nostrils. He coughed. He then proceeded to wear his clothes and collect his items, and all while coughing. He may have looked fit on the outside, but he knew age creeps from the inside.
No matter. He was here, finally, with a purpose, with a way.
He unsheathed his daga carefully and studied the edge. There was a small sideways curvature to it, he knew, yet this was still his most faithful weapon. He encased it as if it were a relic. He shook his vials’ misty content. Upon them, his reflection became apparent. In a guild so young, was he really able to be up to the task?
He threw the earthy cloak on his shoulders and before the fabric settled, he was out of the door.
The lounge was bustling and clinking, mixing up the occasional clatter with laughs. Pascal snatched a muffin from an empty table, and approached the board. His eyes crossed those of Athena and he hinted a bow.
He studied the board, the head slightly tilted as if it were a painting. He always respected the neatness with which the white haired girl prepared the notices. | Name: Pascal Marduk
Appearance: Bristle gray hair and beard, bony cheeks and aged eyes of a deep brown. Even though tall, he is not an imposing figure, he spends most of his time hunched over. He assumed that pose naturally, maybe due to his age, or maybe because it makes him feel more on the ready. At any rate, it became part of who he is.
He wears a long brown hood that covers him as a poncho. Pockets and flasks hang from the large belt. Depending on the way he moves, sometimes under the folds of the hooded cloak the hilt of a daga may show itself.
Age: 47 Male
Height: 190cm
Build: Regular slender build.
Weapon of choice: Daga, Dagger, Venom.
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 100
Current items in possession: One Potion, and a satchel with personal effects. An old Daga, very sharp, and a flask of vyper’s venom.
Basic Skills: Athletic and dexterous. He is used to snake’s venom, and (in doses) he can be immune to it. He became quite good at playing Hex (a game of card), which is a more complicated version of the Old Maid game.
Personality: He is oblivious to etiquette or tact. But he can be very patient. He talks in a low tone, quite smoothly and with an hint of old in his timbre. He is very thoughtful and often stops talking in order to process a thought, and often talks in philosophical adagio. He wants redemption for his past life.
Occupation before joining the guild: Entertainer - Tumbler, Thief, Wanderer.
Basic origin story: Since young age, Pascal used to work in a travelling circus as a tumbler. At age 20, he left, and joined bad companies. His acrobatics skills gave him value in the eyes of the underworld lords. He was used to infiltrate and steal items of value from rich mansions. He became a renown thief. Once though, he was charged with retrieving a relic from the Comity’s chambers. Inside of the vault though, he found a fierceful fighter guarding the item: the Guild Master himself. The two crossed blades, and soon Pascal was defeated. But Ares recognized something in him and spared his life, only to invite him to redeem his life by serving the mercenary group he was part of. Pascal escaped, probably mostly due to the Guild Master’s pity. Pierced by the Master’s words and glare, he made a vow: to prove he was better then the rat he had become, that his destiny was not to die a rat. He was 38 at the time, then he spent 7 years traveling in search of his true destiny.
One day he noticed a snake, curled up on a sunny rock. The animal raised his head hissing. Pascal swiftly tried to grab its tail but the snake was faster and stung him. In the moments of pain that followed Pascal hallucinated, and saw the snake slithering away, drawing beautiful strokes on the ground. He got up and followed the strokes with his feet as if in a dance. Then he collapsed. Luckily for him a traveller found him unconscious and healed him. They became fast friends. Lucius was the name of the traveller. Pascal learned a lot from that episode. The path of the Snake was now set in front of him: steady and majestic the snake attacks only to protect or hunt he thought, it stays invisible until it is time to strike, using the environment to its advantage. He studied the animal’s movements in his travel and its hunting techniques, incorporating them in his style of fighting. But this was also a discipline and a philosophy for him.
When Pascal joined the guild, then, he was 47, called by the same young man he once met, Ares who was now at the head of a group of people defending the world and protecting those in need.
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43,549 | 1,194 | 5 | 1,204 | 37 | There was just a hitch in the harmony of the board. A notice was missing. He pointed at the gap and turned towards Athena.
“What was here?” he asked.
Athena filled him in on the details, and informed him that a member of the guild was already on the job. She jot down the main details and gave them to him with a gentle smile.
He walked down to the farm while studying the briefing in the Administrator’s tidy calligraphy. Tenical Weeds are not terribly poisonous, but awfully recidive. The crops may be saved for now, but the weed would come back sooner or later, he thought.
He caught up to the farm one hour later. He saw two figures in the field. One was distinctly the farmer, the other was a young woman, the red of her hair loomed over the dull tint of the background. They didn’t seem to notice him right away. They were too busy with the crops, and appeared to have covered already a modest patch of the land.
“Mind if I join?” his voice hoarse.
He was near the fence now. Waving politely to the two. | Name: Pascal Marduk
Appearance: Bristle gray hair and beard, bony cheeks and aged eyes of a deep brown. Even though tall, he is not an imposing figure, he spends most of his time hunched over. He assumed that pose naturally, maybe due to his age, or maybe because it makes him feel more on the ready. At any rate, it became part of who he is.
He wears a long brown hood that covers him as a poncho. Pockets and flasks hang from the large belt. Depending on the way he moves, sometimes under the folds of the hooded cloak the hilt of a daga may show itself.
Age: 47 Male
Height: 190cm
Build: Regular slender build.
Weapon of choice: Daga, Dagger, Venom.
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 100
Current items in possession: One Potion, and a satchel with personal effects. An old Daga, very sharp, and a flask of vyper’s venom.
Basic Skills: Athletic and dexterous. He is used to snake’s venom, and (in doses) he can be immune to it. He became quite good at playing Hex (a game of card), which is a more complicated version of the Old Maid game.
Personality: He is oblivious to etiquette or tact. But he can be very patient. He talks in a low tone, quite smoothly and with an hint of old in his timbre. He is very thoughtful and often stops talking in order to process a thought, and often talks in philosophical adagio. He wants redemption for his past life.
Occupation before joining the guild: Entertainer - Tumbler, Thief, Wanderer.
Basic origin story: Since young age, Pascal used to work in a travelling circus as a tumbler. At age 20, he left, and joined bad companies. His acrobatics skills gave him value in the eyes of the underworld lords. He was used to infiltrate and steal items of value from rich mansions. He became a renown thief. Once though, he was charged with retrieving a relic from the Comity’s chambers. Inside of the vault though, he found a fierceful fighter guarding the item: the Guild Master himself. The two crossed blades, and soon Pascal was defeated. But Ares recognized something in him and spared his life, only to invite him to redeem his life by serving the mercenary group he was part of. Pascal escaped, probably mostly due to the Guild Master’s pity. Pierced by the Master’s words and glare, he made a vow: to prove he was better then the rat he had become, that his destiny was not to die a rat. He was 38 at the time, then he spent 7 years traveling in search of his true destiny.
One day he noticed a snake, curled up on a sunny rock. The animal raised his head hissing. Pascal swiftly tried to grab its tail but the snake was faster and stung him. In the moments of pain that followed Pascal hallucinated, and saw the snake slithering away, drawing beautiful strokes on the ground. He got up and followed the strokes with his feet as if in a dance. Then he collapsed. Luckily for him a traveller found him unconscious and healed him. They became fast friends. Lucius was the name of the traveller. Pascal learned a lot from that episode. The path of the Snake was now set in front of him: steady and majestic the snake attacks only to protect or hunt he thought, it stays invisible until it is time to strike, using the environment to its advantage. He studied the animal’s movements in his travel and its hunting techniques, incorporating them in his style of fighting. But this was also a discipline and a philosophy for him.
When Pascal joined the guild, then, he was 47, called by the same young man he once met, Ares who was now at the head of a group of people defending the world and protecting those in need.
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43,550 | 1,194 | 6 | 1,508 | 484 | Mable waved him over warmly "Sure no need to wait grab some thick gloves these things aren't very sharp but the poison isn't fun." Mable eyes Pascal surprised by the man's age but impressed. In her own village it was considered an impossible task to live long enough to earn a white or gray hair. The man appeared to have his own tuft. The work was nearly done and with the new man to help Francis grinned heading inside to count out the cash. Mable smiled pulling out a vine.
"I assume your fron the guild? My names Mable, I'm a new recruit I assumed this would make a good morning warm up. I might tackle something harder once I've purchased the rations for it" Mable said warmly taking in the man's scars impressed by the man so far. Mable stood up straigh extending a gloves hand her armor drenched with sweat and her hair in a ponytail. The glean of sweat covered her small amount of open skin. | Name: Mable of Orstwych
Appearance: A young woman with cold blue eyes and red hair. A worn reinforced leather armor wrapped around her.
Age: 22
Height: 5'8
Build: Muscled but plump
Weapon of choice: A longsword and shield with two throwing knives.
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 2205 Yule
Current items in possession: A weeks rations, Reinforced leather armor, An iron shield, two iron daggers, and a iron long sword.
Basic Skills: Basic Tracking, mild resistance to cold temperatures, and basic equipment repairs
Personality: Mable is brave but also aggressive almost to a fault. She will rarely refuse a challenge but values a fair fight. Mable is smart, but impatient refusing to plan more then her next four moves when considering an attack. IT should be said however that her main trait is fearsome loyalty to those she calls her friends willing to ride into any danger to protect them.
Occupation before joining the guild: Wandering mercenary
Basic origin story: Mable was a simple woman at first. She lived in her camp with her husband. Mable often would hunt clubbing enemies to death with her wood club and shield. Mable had been married at fifteen to her beloved and they spent four happy years together. The forth year however while Mable was hunting her mate went to the council. He made claims that she was barren so they granted him a second wife. In a month the new wife was great with child. Mable was repaid for her years of affection by betrayal.
In her rage Mable beat her husband to death before fleeing into the snowy wastes. A long time later when Mable was starving she accepted the offer of a mercenary band. They quickly discovered her ferocity as she beat individuals to death with her club. When it shattered Mable took up the sword. One dark night her allies betrayed her trying to sell her as a slave on the black market. Mable killed her once allies and headed west alone seeking there fabled lands. Upon hearing of the guild decided she'd seek out a family in the guild having heard they were loyal souls. |
43,551 | 1,194 | 7 | 285 | 266 | Oh this would do just fine! Serigan's grin stretched for ear to ear as he sat in the lounge with his boots kicked up on the table. He'd had a bowl of the fine stew they offered here, better than the slop his old cuz used to throw together, and sipped on his glass of whiskey. It was a good vintage too. His boys had made a whiskey back at home they called 'Cuttah brew' and it was as foul as the air. They brewed it up from the leavings in the trash heaps and alley ways of old Ullarn. Serigan downed the drink with an appreciative sigh. Oh yes, sirrah, this'a'do jus' fine. His blue eyes followed the old man who he'd seeing wandering around the halls lately. The old bastard had been here longer than Ser, but, that didn't matter. What really mattered is that old tough looked like he'd seen a few daggers with blades stuck in someone else's back. Ser knew the look. He might not be a 'Jumpah' anymore, but, he could be again. He saw the codger's fingers twitch and itch. That's a stabber shuffle if he'd ever seen one, and he had. Him and the perky red head that had a kind of 'Y'lookin' me up? I'll bash'er 'ead in!' sort of feel to her. Yep, those two would be the first. Serigan stood after a few more minutes of contemplation and swept his swagger stick up into his hand. "Time'a be on 'is way, eh?" he said to the open air and strode from the room. His buckler and dussack clinked together with a soft ringing sound, the rhythm to the beat of his heavy cane on the floor. The old gangster crossed the guild entrance and eyed the contract board. "Wasted on weed pickin', loves." he reached one of his griddle-like hands out and snatched a seperate contract from the board. The one they would do, well, once he offered it to them. The massive man walked through the entry hall and raised his cane in a mock-salute to the guild administrator. "Off'a pick weeds, I am. Be back t'discuss ou'futya chillun, eh?" he gave her a playful wink and exited the Guild before he could stopped or rebuffed.
Serigan walked down the center of the cobbled road. The sun was shining and everything was right damn pleasant. It made him ill. He couldn't even remember seeing the sun back when he was young. The sky was black and gray and everyone in Ullarn knew it. This, this was just obscene. Too bright, too hot, too fresh. He could breath the air in and not even worry about getting a cough. He wondered how these people ever stopped thieves. No tracks in the soot and no untimely coughs as preamble to untimely demise. The farm was not too far off, that was good. The less time he was out in this oppressive light was always a good thing. As the sight of the farm came into view Serigan caught sight of his two marks as well. Yep, there they were, wasting time and effort pulling weeds like children. Well, here was their opportunity.
Serigan walked over to the two with his usual gang-leader swagger. He raised his cane in salute to them before he walked over to the edge of the field. There were so many plants. People back in the soot would have, and did, kill for food like this. Now, here it was, all layed out in rows. Serigan scanned the horizon almost shocked he didn't see any bandits waiting to strike and snag all the lush greens. "Hot'ere, eh?" he said with a grin on his face. "He gestured down to the weeds the two were pulling out, "N'er seen nuttin' like this'n where I come from." Serigan walked over, making sure not to step on the precious food, and whacked one of the weeds out of the ground with the weighted end of his cane. The plant flew in a graceful arch over the few rows of plants to his left. Serigan let out a quiet whistle in admiration of his shot. "Lis'en'ere." the tall man said in a quiet and cheery tone, "I gos' me an evil brain an'a angel heart. Ol'Cuttah comes t'ye with a way t'make some real stacks." he turned his eyes back to the other two. "Pullin' weeds s'fine, fer'chillun, Ol'Cuttah knows things though." Serigan tapped his forehead with the head of his cane and his mouth pulled into a preditory grin, "See, ol'Cuttah here has the touch, see. He can see the future. ol'Cuttah sees three champions. He sees 'imself, a'course." he gestured with the tip of cane at Mable, using the thing like a teacher's ruler, "A beau'ful an'dangerous Kilie," the point of his cane trailed over to the old man, "An' a ol'knife tha's still sharp's'a razor." his impromu ruler swung down and pointed to an imaginary pile at Serigan's feet, "Wit a pile of dead pigs at their feet." Serigan planted his cane in the hole where the weed he had smashed used to sit. "Thas'a stack a'clips as tall as ol'Cuttah 'ere. T'ousand for each of'em champions." Serigan pulled the contract for the death of the boars that had been troubling caravans. A three star contract. "Three stars. Three champions. Three t'ousand clips we split. N'more weed pullin' fer our ilk, eh?" Serigan spread his arms and waited for the response. He thought he'd been compelling. He just hoped they could understand his eastern accent. | Name: Serigan "Cutter"
Appearance:
Life in the choking streets of Ullarn is a hard one and it makes all men hard, or dead. Serigan has the look of a man who has perhaps done and seen a few too many things. His dark blue eyes seem to just kind of stare into the distance when not focused on a single task. Little to no access to a proper barber, aside from the one 'snipper' you might have in your gang, gives Serigan's long-ish brown hair an unkempt mane-like quality that he deals with simply pushing it as far back as he can each morning and hoping for the best. His facial hair follows a similar philosophy to that of his hair. It is cut into a manageable shape but not as well groomed as it should be. He has a short beard that wraps the entire lower half of the thug's face in an, almost, ruggedly handsome fur. A small scar about and inch long rests on his left check leaving a thin strip of beard missing. His lips are marked by a number of small scars from where they have been busted and his nose is ever so slightly crooked, suffering the same fate as his lips. The thug's body is a much more impressive thing than the poorly kept head that sits atop it. He has massively broad shoulders set with the hard muscle of one accustomed to swinging heavy objects into other men's heads. His legs and arms are long and lithe, a body almost made for 'busting'. The thick, scarred, and vice-like hands that sit on the ends of long arms tell their own story of back alley brawls and one too many men strangled. Serigan covers his body with style only a bombastic gang leader can. He wears a number of layers of fine clothes that have been treated poorly. Each article of clothing speaks a tale of a man with enough money for nice clothing but not enough refinement to know what to do with them. The whole ensemble is covered by a thick, once white, fur lined and collar buff-coat. This is belted at the waist with a rugged sword belt slung with a couple daggers, a coin purse, and a set of dussack & buckler.
Age: 30
Height: 6'4"
Build: Hard lithe muscle set into the massive frame of a street thug.
Weapon of choice: Dussack & buckler
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 40
Current items in possession:
Dussack (Functions as a basic sword), buckler (small hand held shield designed for close fighting and good for little else), Three daggers (One to see, one to find, one to keep), a basic traveling pack (Tent, water skin, flint & Steel, 30' of hemp rope, bed roll), Swagger-stick (Thick wooden cane set with a heavy brass covered iron head), Buff-coat (His coat is a thick padded piece of armor that is made to still look street-stylish. It provides light armor for his torso, legs, and arms)
Basic Skills:
- Back Alley Fighting: Skilled at quick and dirty brawling the soot stained streets of Ullarn. Fighting with sword & shield, daggers, clubs, canes, and his bare hands but with little training and no experience with more impressive and rich weapons. What he lacks in training though he makes up for in practical knowledge. Wise to cheap tricks and wise enough to use them with deadly effectiveness.
- Shot-Caller: Serigan has an air of command and authority that he seems to carry with him everywhere he goes, even when unwarranted. This makes him a natural leader of gutter-scum who respect strength and cunning and intimidating to those not used to dealing with people not ready for the aggressive nature of the thug.
- Hard Knock Alma Mater: You don't crawl out of the sess pit of Ullarn alive without learning some things. Serigan might not have ever been to a school in his life but he knows how to spot an ambush by the nervous shuffles of impatient thugs. He can figure out the best way to bust into a shop with minimal effort and spot fake coins with ease. He couldn't tell you who painted what or what it means but he could point you to a good fence to sell it after you stole it if you wanted.
Personality:
Most people who grow up in the slums and factories of Ullarn are whipped dogs. They just mope from place to place and hope they get fed. Serigan is a different breed entirely. He saw what he wanted and he took it. With cunning, money, or force he took it. Serigan is the pinnacle of a man with more ambition than sense. Using his force of personality and size got him everything he wanted and this is still is go to method. Serigan often comes across as a bully or even cruel, yet, this is just the most effective tool he has always had. When intimidation fails he often becomes a much more amiable fellow. Serigan is and has always been one quick to laugh and find most jokes a riot. He clings to this sense of humor and a jovial nature with a death grip and this often gets him into trouble when his humor is inappropriate. The most valuable thing to the former gang leader is respect. He can tolerate nearly anything as long as the proper respect is paid. This goes both ways for Serigan. He was not the top of the food chain, even when he had his own crew behind him. He always knew there was a higher seat. Knew when to shut his mouth and where the kick backs were supposed to go. Violating this code of respect though reveals the merciless killer that all too often was seen on the streets. Disrespect is not tolerated and is repaid in blood. Maybe not just then, but, eventually everyone gets theirs. The wheel keeps turnin'.
Occupation before joining the guild: Gang Leader
Basic origin story:
Born to a bordering on meaningless family of factory workers just like every other person in Ullarn, Serigan, was just the fourth child in a long line of doomed kids. In the city there were only two choices for people like them; you get to be a slave in a factory; you get to be a slave to some gang leader. Neither of these options appealed to the rather large boy though. He figured that he had five brothers and they were all reasonably tough. Why not be their own gang? If you don't want to be splashed by piss on t'street bes'be t'one throwin', eh? They set their minds to seizing the territory around their home. Luckily, the gang that owned the little scrap of the city was a weak one. After recruiting all the cousins he could, the boys began their grand plan. they ran little scams here and there. They mugged who they could and stock piled the money they could. The boys were smart enough to throw the kick backs to the local gang without a single word of protest. That was, until they protested with everything they had. They stormed the hide out of the crew and fell on them in the way that only young men filled with fury and terror can. The place was ruined with blood and guts and standing soaked to his elbows in dark red stood the boy who had prompted all the others to take their fate into their hands, Serigan. He was fifteen years old.
The years that followed were hard and bloody. The boys turned into hard men and many of them turned into dead men. By the time Serigan was twenty five years old his gang was one of the most hated by the city authorities and power among the streets. He was privy to the meetings of many crime bosses and did what he could to gain their favor. He was just a small fish to these men of global power. they did not concern themselves with the pointless struggles of little gangs in the soot stained land they came from. Serigan, now Cuttah to his ilk, was not satisfied with this dynamic though. These powerful men should care what happens on the streets that raised them. They should the people like the gangs did. They should protect them, not just collect their black and gray market profits and run off to whatever nice city they actually lived in. He started a new plan. this plan was to be his last though. In the four years it took him to implement it his gang became far too visible. Not only did he find himself no longer invited to nice meetings of crime bosses but also was the target of harsh crack downs by the local authorities. In the space of a year Serigan found himself no longer on the top but with a high price on his head from both the normal folks who like to put bounties on heads, but, also on the hit lists of the crime bosses that he once wanted to be like. Serigan's walls closed in and a damp cell for the rest of his life was the best he could hope for. Just like he entered the stage, with flash and a bloodbath, he left it. He fled to the West. He ran until he couldn't run anymore. With little money and nowhere to go he found his answer. Turns out there was a guild for people like him. A guild for people with no skills aside from the kind that result in trips to the local hospital. Why not pop in and see if they just happen to need a strong arm to lift a sword? Maybe, just maybe, there would be room for advancement. |
43,552 | 1,194 | 8 | 1,508 | 484 | Mable had almost no idea who this man was Pascal had helped her finish a while ago. The farmer had offered them some fresh juice so Mable had been lounging by the fence when the man approached. He knocked a weed into the air saying something about children. He sounded to Mable like a cheap con artist. It was pretty clear from the paper in his hand the man wanted to scam her into joining him on a boar hunt. Mable glanced at Pascal curious what his opinion was before draining her glass. Mable asked the farmer permission to take the weeds to there guild before turning back to the man.
Mable said in a flat voice "First of all before you lie to me at least ask my name. Second if you need something just ask instead of mocking what I'm doing. Third and finally I'll help you on the mission if Pascal wishes to join us. In the meantime I'm going back to collect my reward and deliver these to Hygiea. It's possible that these could make good poisons or antidotes."
Mable grabbed two of the bags of tied up vines heading back up the hill to the guild. In her time as a mercenary she'd lost patience for people who weave adventurous tales. If there was an adventure she'd join, but it was unnecessary to con her. If you served well and were loyal as Pascal had been she'd travel with you again. There was no need for flowery nonsense between friends or companions. Mable made her way up heading directly for Hygeia before Athena leaving collections to Pascal. | Name: Mable of Orstwych
Appearance: A young woman with cold blue eyes and red hair. A worn reinforced leather armor wrapped around her.
Age: 22
Height: 5'8
Build: Muscled but plump
Weapon of choice: A longsword and shield with two throwing knives.
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 2205 Yule
Current items in possession: A weeks rations, Reinforced leather armor, An iron shield, two iron daggers, and a iron long sword.
Basic Skills: Basic Tracking, mild resistance to cold temperatures, and basic equipment repairs
Personality: Mable is brave but also aggressive almost to a fault. She will rarely refuse a challenge but values a fair fight. Mable is smart, but impatient refusing to plan more then her next four moves when considering an attack. IT should be said however that her main trait is fearsome loyalty to those she calls her friends willing to ride into any danger to protect them.
Occupation before joining the guild: Wandering mercenary
Basic origin story: Mable was a simple woman at first. She lived in her camp with her husband. Mable often would hunt clubbing enemies to death with her wood club and shield. Mable had been married at fifteen to her beloved and they spent four happy years together. The forth year however while Mable was hunting her mate went to the council. He made claims that she was barren so they granted him a second wife. In a month the new wife was great with child. Mable was repaid for her years of affection by betrayal.
In her rage Mable beat her husband to death before fleeing into the snowy wastes. A long time later when Mable was starving she accepted the offer of a mercenary band. They quickly discovered her ferocity as she beat individuals to death with her club. When it shattered Mable took up the sword. One dark night her allies betrayed her trying to sell her as a slave on the black market. Mable killed her once allies and headed west alone seeking there fabled lands. Upon hearing of the guild decided she'd seek out a family in the guild having heard they were loyal souls. |
43,553 | 1,194 | 9 | 1,903 | 443 | Alfie had just returned from a walk near the guild. He was walking Spat and the dog found a herb that Alfie had never felt or smelt before. Some might think that a blind man walking around out side by himself was not wise, but many of the other members know that on his first few days here Alfie familiarized himself with the local surroundings and also the inside, plus he had Spat so there is not to much to worry about.
He had been on a few missions but so far the only ones who knew about his combat capabilities where Athena, Hygiea, and the Guild Master Ares, this meant most of his guild mates either underestimated him or just did not associate. He did get along with Hygiea, they would discuss different medicines, and treatments for ailments (more her teaching him).
So that is what he was going to do now in his down time, ask her another question about this herb he hand never used before. He walked into the guild and let Spat navigate him through the hall past the front desk and into the market place so he could talk to her.
"Hello again Hygiea, I have brought another one I found while out and about and was wondering what it is?" He said showing her the herb. | Name: Alfie Reid
Appearance: Alfie has green eyes and is quiet muscular. He has no hair due to his vow and two tattos on his arms.
Age: 23
Height: 5'9
Build: Lean
Weapon of choice: Light weight Metal Staff, leather bracers
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 50
Current items in possession: A pouch that has a strap that goes over his shoulder that currently only holds his yule, a pair of leather bracers, and the cloth that carries his staff.
Basic Skills: Heightened senses because he is blind, hand to hand combat, staff and spear training, well versed in herbal medicines.
Personality: Being the monk he is, Alfie is very friendly and always tries to find another solution to a fight. He understands the necessity for it but still looks for other options, always trying to find the bright side to every person and every situation. He can be very outspoken at times and loves to interact with others. He can be serious when the time calls for it and he never gets mad, but most of the time he is light-hearted and fun to be around.
Occupation before joining the guild: Warrior Monk/Hunter
Basic origin story: Alfie was born blind, something rare in Draykon. They did not know what to do with him so for the first few years of his life he grew up locked away, his parents where simple coal miners in Glour so this type of thing was new to them. A man had come to their door dressed in long robes, and said that he had heard of their child and offered to take him and teach him how to live, Alfie's parents could not pass up this chance, not only could this be their only chance to get ride of their broken child, but also restore their reputation with their small community. So they did and but unbeknown to them they had given Alfie to nomadic tribe of Warrior Monks.
These monks where known to migrate throughout three different countries: Glinnery for meditation and learning ones self, Glour for pilgrimages and training, and Orstwych for fighting, and purifying. These monks where known for taking in lost children and turning them into warriors that live by a code. There are only 20 or so at a time and usually one that leads the rest in experience and age. Alfie was 7 when his training officially began and it was a rough childhood, learning how to live and "see" with his blindness, learning to use it to feel the land and area around him. When he turned 12 after going through many migrations with his new family he was deemed ready to start his combat training.
He trained, fought, and grew as a person. As a young man he was some what restless, there where so many sounds and feelings he had yet to experience. So may things outside of the 3 countries he had consistently walked and traveled through. His master or "father" saw this and decided to cast him out, saying he was young and not fit to live with young children and old men. So Alfie left in the night, not really knowing where he was going and walked for days, until he slipped into a village in Nimdre. There he met a woman and, he was 20 by now, and began to live with her breaking his vows as a monk, falling in love, even getting married.
They lived in a village close to the border of Ullarn and Nimdre, and this is where the problem arose. One day they went out as usual to pick fruits and check their traps, Alfie had wandered off to make sure certain things were in order and their village was attacked. Bandits had attacked they came to loot, steal, raid and pillage everything in sight. He lost his wife and child, kidnapped, and turned back to his vows and the warrior monk life. He started to do jobs with his only friend a dog named Spat. He just recently joined the guild, only hearing about them once or twice, them he met a member of the guild who introduced him to the right people after recognizing his skill. |
43,554 | 1,194 | 10 | 1,204 | 37 | Pascal finished to eradicate the weed, the roots of which struck him as fairly flat and web like shape. The poisonous plants seemed to be interconnected. Could it be that with the right counter toxine the plant would have died off? He needed to talk about this with the Apothecary. She was probably more experienced in basic herbal toxins.
A glass of fresh juice appeared in his field of vision, and made him startle back… habits. He mumbled a thank you and drinked up.
“This weed might grow back later on, I would like to take some samples to find out if there is a way to neutralize it for good. I wouldn’t promise anything, there might be a way. See those mushrooms there? They don’t seem affected by the poison. Do you mind if I pick them up as well?”
The farmer nod, the bold shadow’s edge of the hat extended down to his chin.
Pascal picked up the mushrooms. The red haired girl was leaning against the fence in relaxation and she introduced herself. Pascal shook her hand politely and answered.
“I am Pascal. I have joined the guild quite recently actually. This does seem like a good warmup. In fact, I find these activity quite enjoyable, and fairly easy on my back...”
When the chatty fellow came down the hill Pascal recognized him from the guild’s hall. He understood only inklings of his speech, and tried to puzzle them all together into something coherent. Mable spoke, and he finally understood what was going on. A boar hunt.
“You seem a capable fellah. I would join you gladly, if you could just wait for us to get back to the Guild and finish up this business.”
The red haired girl had taken off by then. Pascal offered the pouch filled with plants and mushrooms to the tough man. “Actually, would you care helping me carry this, if so we might get onto the next job in short order.” He raised his brows waiting for the man’s reaction. | Name: Pascal Marduk
Appearance: Bristle gray hair and beard, bony cheeks and aged eyes of a deep brown. Even though tall, he is not an imposing figure, he spends most of his time hunched over. He assumed that pose naturally, maybe due to his age, or maybe because it makes him feel more on the ready. At any rate, it became part of who he is.
He wears a long brown hood that covers him as a poncho. Pockets and flasks hang from the large belt. Depending on the way he moves, sometimes under the folds of the hooded cloak the hilt of a daga may show itself.
Age: 47 Male
Height: 190cm
Build: Regular slender build.
Weapon of choice: Daga, Dagger, Venom.
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 100
Current items in possession: One Potion, and a satchel with personal effects. An old Daga, very sharp, and a flask of vyper’s venom.
Basic Skills: Athletic and dexterous. He is used to snake’s venom, and (in doses) he can be immune to it. He became quite good at playing Hex (a game of card), which is a more complicated version of the Old Maid game.
Personality: He is oblivious to etiquette or tact. But he can be very patient. He talks in a low tone, quite smoothly and with an hint of old in his timbre. He is very thoughtful and often stops talking in order to process a thought, and often talks in philosophical adagio. He wants redemption for his past life.
Occupation before joining the guild: Entertainer - Tumbler, Thief, Wanderer.
Basic origin story: Since young age, Pascal used to work in a travelling circus as a tumbler. At age 20, he left, and joined bad companies. His acrobatics skills gave him value in the eyes of the underworld lords. He was used to infiltrate and steal items of value from rich mansions. He became a renown thief. Once though, he was charged with retrieving a relic from the Comity’s chambers. Inside of the vault though, he found a fierceful fighter guarding the item: the Guild Master himself. The two crossed blades, and soon Pascal was defeated. But Ares recognized something in him and spared his life, only to invite him to redeem his life by serving the mercenary group he was part of. Pascal escaped, probably mostly due to the Guild Master’s pity. Pierced by the Master’s words and glare, he made a vow: to prove he was better then the rat he had become, that his destiny was not to die a rat. He was 38 at the time, then he spent 7 years traveling in search of his true destiny.
One day he noticed a snake, curled up on a sunny rock. The animal raised his head hissing. Pascal swiftly tried to grab its tail but the snake was faster and stung him. In the moments of pain that followed Pascal hallucinated, and saw the snake slithering away, drawing beautiful strokes on the ground. He got up and followed the strokes with his feet as if in a dance. Then he collapsed. Luckily for him a traveller found him unconscious and healed him. They became fast friends. Lucius was the name of the traveller. Pascal learned a lot from that episode. The path of the Snake was now set in front of him: steady and majestic the snake attacks only to protect or hunt he thought, it stays invisible until it is time to strike, using the environment to its advantage. He studied the animal’s movements in his travel and its hunting techniques, incorporating them in his style of fighting. But this was also a discipline and a philosophy for him.
When Pascal joined the guild, then, he was 47, called by the same young man he once met, Ares who was now at the head of a group of people defending the world and protecting those in need.
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43,555 | 1,194 | 11 | 989 | 495 | Hagor
As guild members came this way and that picking up food, leaving crumbs on tables and spilling water on the ground, Hagor kept busy cleaning up this way and that. Dirty dishes piled into a stack and used cups neatly arranged on the counter to be cleaned. She left the water jugs in place as they were always decorating the center of the round tables for use of any guild member, replenished as they were depleted and finally cleaned and dried at the end of each day.
In her hurry she consolidated the muffins into a single basket and placed them at the edge of the counter and then with the remaining eggs a muffin and a glass of juice on a tray made her way to the guild masters quarters to deliver his breakfast with a report of the on-goings of the morning as was her usual morning ritual.
Athena
Athena's nimble fingers had just finished placing the missions on the notice board when a red haired maiden known as Mable picked up the mission for farmer Francis. Soon following her was the welcomed and accomplished elderly gentleman known as Pascal who welcomed the idea of the mission and joined Mable with the process. She knew little of these two but for the basics of their demeanor, their ability to complete and turn in missions and how quickly they did them. Truthfully, this was most of what she knew of anyone save for her three co-workers and the guild master himself. Athena did like Farmer Francis as he was a frequent requester of missions and always paid more then he needed to for jobs. Hagor often bought produce from him for the guild and this became a wonderful bond over the years.
Soon after the passing of the two guild mates came Serigan with his simulated courtesy. He seemingly pushed past her and snatched up a mission meant for two without approval then trailed off to follow Mable and Pascal who would most likely be done with Farmer Francis by the time he caught up to them. As she often did she smiled small and didn't speak unless asked about a mission. Her voice was soft and airy when she did speak.
Athena went to her counter and quickly wrote up another version of the boar contract and reposted it in the place of the original. It was only a matter of time before the two with Serigan following behind would return to the guild. She glanced up as Alfie with Spat along side entered the guild. She smiled at him in greeting out of habit before shaking her head quickly to herself and in her little voice greeted the two of them. "Welcome back, Sir" Her voice was hardly louder then a whisper but as the dogs eyes meet hers she knew greeting was acknowledged. When he turned to enter the marketplace, Athena began gathering up the reward for the weed job and evenly splitting it in two, writing notes in various notebooks and pages then placing them in different locations. Athena was very organized.
Hygiea
Hygiea continued grinding away at her herbs and remedies, packing them up as they were merged together and placing them to the side for use later. Finally she put aside her mortar and pestle and set about brewing some tea for herself. "I think for muscle aches today." she mumbled to herself in a lower voice as if confirming to herself that this was a good decision. "Three and a half minutes at 212 degrees" she whispered again as if reciting from an old book kept deep within the recesses of her mind.
The water had just come to it's rolling boil as she heard the sound of dog feet pattering on the floors coming in her direction. She began the steeping process of her leaves in the hot water when she turned around and just passing the large map table in the center of the room was Aflie and Spat. She smiled at them both in greeting in her almost motherly like way and pulled down two porcelain cups and began gently pouring tea into them both. Though she wasn't meant to have favorites, Alfie was favorite of hers. She loved his thirst for knowledge and willingness to learn more on the subject of herbs and remedies. As Alfie approached her counter she placed the cup on it's edge for him to drink.
"Alfie." she said warmly as she pulled his idle hand to the brim of the tea cup so he knew it was there. "My goodness what do you have for me today?" Her eyes lit up at the site of the herbs he had in his outstretched hand. She gently pulled them from his grip so as not to crinkle any of it's delicate leaves, then rose the herbs to her face and took in a large inhale. "What a wonderful find my friend." she said with a delight carried through her voice. "What you have brought for me here is known as basilico or Basil though it is most commonly used as a cooking herb it works as well as an assistant in sickness and as a mild stress reliever. You did a marvellous job of keeping the roots intact!" With this Hygiea knelt down and picked up on her many ready pots of soil and gently replanted the herb in it, drizzling it with water and placing it next to the window.
"Will you be heading out on any adventures today?" She asked him kindly. | Name: Ares (Are-Es)
Age: 53
Height: 6' 4" or 193cm
Build: Somewhat slender and tall
Weapon of choice: One medium length sword and throwing knives
Basic Skills: Extremely persuasive in matters of importance, nimble and an expert level swordsman.
Personality: Does not often strike up a conversation unless something important is to be discussed. He won't turn you away and will listen intently of all matters brought to his attention but is usually deep in thought on matters of importance brought up by the comity.
Occupation before joining the guild: Draykon Mercenary
Basic origin story: Worked for the Draykon comity for many years as a mercenary until he began exploring the mountains or Irbel and discovered the ruins of an ancient landmark, almost like a throne room of some kind. He pulled together some of the lower ranking mercenaries and built what is now the guild. After discussing the prospect of the guild to the comity it was approved immediately with the condition that Ares become an adviser to the comity and report any suspicious on goings to them.
NPCs:
The Administrator
Athena is the Administrator. She is the person who receives a missions before posting them on the notice board. When picking up, turning in, or collecting a reward on a mission, she is the one you need to talk to. You would also speak to her about additional details on a mission if you feel you need them. She is quiet and soft spoken most of the time but will always be sure your questions are answered.
The Blacksmith or Weapons and Armour Master
Artemis is stubborn and hard headed but, she is the best blacksmith in all of Draykon. She'll get on you if your not routinely getting your weapons and armour checked out for defects or tune-ups. She worked for the mercenaries of Draykon before they became the guild.
The Apothecary
Hygiea is a very skilled and wise apothecary. She may be an older woman but her knowledge of the art of herb mixtures and potion making is seemingly second to none. She is very humble and gracious often wishing adventures well off as they leave for missions.
The Bartender
Hathor is eccentric and lively. She was once an adventurer as well but found she enjoyed the food and drink more then the adventuring. Now she works the lounge giving energy and enthusiasm to the room. Hathor is extremely flirtatious if you get her talking for too long but it is mostly all in good humour. |
43,556 | 1,194 | 12 | 285 | 266 | Serigan stood. Upright, proud, and grinning, as the red haired woman gave him a dressing down. He'd been yelled at before by men and women far scarier than this little Kilie. He did take her words to heart though. He might act aloof when it came to people lecturing him, but, he understood what she was really saying. She was proper roughed that Serigan had disrespected her. She was letting him know that she wasn't one of the birds that you could pepper with flowery gibbers and expect them to drop their skirts. Good. He would have been almost offended if she had been so easily taken in by his performance. He followed her exit with his gaze, making no further comments. He knew she needed time to wander off, besides, the old fella seemed interested. Serigan tipped his head to the side to better appreciate Mable's exit and then turned his gaze to the older man, still grinning. "'course I'll carry 'ybags." Serigan reached out and grasped the top of the bag and swung it over his shoulder with a thump, "Ain'about t'let y'struggle a'fer askin' fer y'help, eh?" Serigan let out a little laugh. "See?" he pointed to his head again with his cane, "Told'y Ol'Cuttah has the touch. Y'ready t'join up. T'Kilie'll join if y'do. Boom, all three champs." the old gang leader adjusted the bag and looked down the road to the guild. "Now, les'go get'chee that reward, eh? Then us three can go russtle up s'm bacon. " Serigan laughed at his own joke as he began to walk with the older man, "Name's Serigan, as it suits ya. C'n call me Ser, or, Cuttah, if'n y'like. Wha'they call you old Knife?"
Serigan walked back to the guild with Pescal. He chatted with the old man. He kept his tone pleasant and never pried into the old man's past. He didn't need to. When men of his age showed up somewhere that is the domain of young folks and killers you knew what kind of history they had. If Pascal wanted to tell Ser it would be his decision. The gang leader didn't need to know. Wouldn't help him fight or drink, so, it would remain the old man's business. Serigan chatted about easy things. Food, women, drink, and the guild. Safe topics for all involved. After all, he wouldn't want this Old Knife knowing that just a few countries over there was a price on Serigan's head that you could retire on. Not that people like Ser or Pascal could ever bring themselves to retire.
The gang leader stepped into the main hall of the guild with his usual swagger and stepped up to the guild administrator's counter with the tell-tale beat and rhythm of his weapons and cane on the hard floor. He swung the bag of weeds from his shoulder and held it out for Athena to see. "Ol'Pascal and t'red Kilie don'pulled a'mess'a weeds off'n t'farm. best'a pay'em f'the 'ard work." Serigan placed the bag carefully on the floor and leaned his elbow on the counter, waiting for Pascal to complete his business with Athena. Serigan's blue eyes flicked back to Athena. "Not'a'mention, I went and snatched'y paper off'n board. Sorry mum." he shrugged, "I needed a prop t'show th'fellas at the farm." Serigan pulled the crumpled paper out and placed it carefully on the counter. He tried futilely to smooth the page out. "T'fellas, Pascal, the red Kilie, and ol'Cuttah here, wou'like t'take t'contract fer t'boars. Easy-peasy, business done." the large man knocked on the counter with his large ring and smiled at Athena. "Now, like'I said when I rushed off a'fore. I's thinkin' Sammy if'n tha'be right wi'you f't'first kid. Is'a good name. Strong if'n ee's a boy an'cute f'a girl, right?" | Name: Serigan "Cutter"
Appearance:
Life in the choking streets of Ullarn is a hard one and it makes all men hard, or dead. Serigan has the look of a man who has perhaps done and seen a few too many things. His dark blue eyes seem to just kind of stare into the distance when not focused on a single task. Little to no access to a proper barber, aside from the one 'snipper' you might have in your gang, gives Serigan's long-ish brown hair an unkempt mane-like quality that he deals with simply pushing it as far back as he can each morning and hoping for the best. His facial hair follows a similar philosophy to that of his hair. It is cut into a manageable shape but not as well groomed as it should be. He has a short beard that wraps the entire lower half of the thug's face in an, almost, ruggedly handsome fur. A small scar about and inch long rests on his left check leaving a thin strip of beard missing. His lips are marked by a number of small scars from where they have been busted and his nose is ever so slightly crooked, suffering the same fate as his lips. The thug's body is a much more impressive thing than the poorly kept head that sits atop it. He has massively broad shoulders set with the hard muscle of one accustomed to swinging heavy objects into other men's heads. His legs and arms are long and lithe, a body almost made for 'busting'. The thick, scarred, and vice-like hands that sit on the ends of long arms tell their own story of back alley brawls and one too many men strangled. Serigan covers his body with style only a bombastic gang leader can. He wears a number of layers of fine clothes that have been treated poorly. Each article of clothing speaks a tale of a man with enough money for nice clothing but not enough refinement to know what to do with them. The whole ensemble is covered by a thick, once white, fur lined and collar buff-coat. This is belted at the waist with a rugged sword belt slung with a couple daggers, a coin purse, and a set of dussack & buckler.
Age: 30
Height: 6'4"
Build: Hard lithe muscle set into the massive frame of a street thug.
Weapon of choice: Dussack & buckler
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 40
Current items in possession:
Dussack (Functions as a basic sword), buckler (small hand held shield designed for close fighting and good for little else), Three daggers (One to see, one to find, one to keep), a basic traveling pack (Tent, water skin, flint & Steel, 30' of hemp rope, bed roll), Swagger-stick (Thick wooden cane set with a heavy brass covered iron head), Buff-coat (His coat is a thick padded piece of armor that is made to still look street-stylish. It provides light armor for his torso, legs, and arms)
Basic Skills:
- Back Alley Fighting: Skilled at quick and dirty brawling the soot stained streets of Ullarn. Fighting with sword & shield, daggers, clubs, canes, and his bare hands but with little training and no experience with more impressive and rich weapons. What he lacks in training though he makes up for in practical knowledge. Wise to cheap tricks and wise enough to use them with deadly effectiveness.
- Shot-Caller: Serigan has an air of command and authority that he seems to carry with him everywhere he goes, even when unwarranted. This makes him a natural leader of gutter-scum who respect strength and cunning and intimidating to those not used to dealing with people not ready for the aggressive nature of the thug.
- Hard Knock Alma Mater: You don't crawl out of the sess pit of Ullarn alive without learning some things. Serigan might not have ever been to a school in his life but he knows how to spot an ambush by the nervous shuffles of impatient thugs. He can figure out the best way to bust into a shop with minimal effort and spot fake coins with ease. He couldn't tell you who painted what or what it means but he could point you to a good fence to sell it after you stole it if you wanted.
Personality:
Most people who grow up in the slums and factories of Ullarn are whipped dogs. They just mope from place to place and hope they get fed. Serigan is a different breed entirely. He saw what he wanted and he took it. With cunning, money, or force he took it. Serigan is the pinnacle of a man with more ambition than sense. Using his force of personality and size got him everything he wanted and this is still is go to method. Serigan often comes across as a bully or even cruel, yet, this is just the most effective tool he has always had. When intimidation fails he often becomes a much more amiable fellow. Serigan is and has always been one quick to laugh and find most jokes a riot. He clings to this sense of humor and a jovial nature with a death grip and this often gets him into trouble when his humor is inappropriate. The most valuable thing to the former gang leader is respect. He can tolerate nearly anything as long as the proper respect is paid. This goes both ways for Serigan. He was not the top of the food chain, even when he had his own crew behind him. He always knew there was a higher seat. Knew when to shut his mouth and where the kick backs were supposed to go. Violating this code of respect though reveals the merciless killer that all too often was seen on the streets. Disrespect is not tolerated and is repaid in blood. Maybe not just then, but, eventually everyone gets theirs. The wheel keeps turnin'.
Occupation before joining the guild: Gang Leader
Basic origin story:
Born to a bordering on meaningless family of factory workers just like every other person in Ullarn, Serigan, was just the fourth child in a long line of doomed kids. In the city there were only two choices for people like them; you get to be a slave in a factory; you get to be a slave to some gang leader. Neither of these options appealed to the rather large boy though. He figured that he had five brothers and they were all reasonably tough. Why not be their own gang? If you don't want to be splashed by piss on t'street bes'be t'one throwin', eh? They set their minds to seizing the territory around their home. Luckily, the gang that owned the little scrap of the city was a weak one. After recruiting all the cousins he could, the boys began their grand plan. they ran little scams here and there. They mugged who they could and stock piled the money they could. The boys were smart enough to throw the kick backs to the local gang without a single word of protest. That was, until they protested with everything they had. They stormed the hide out of the crew and fell on them in the way that only young men filled with fury and terror can. The place was ruined with blood and guts and standing soaked to his elbows in dark red stood the boy who had prompted all the others to take their fate into their hands, Serigan. He was fifteen years old.
The years that followed were hard and bloody. The boys turned into hard men and many of them turned into dead men. By the time Serigan was twenty five years old his gang was one of the most hated by the city authorities and power among the streets. He was privy to the meetings of many crime bosses and did what he could to gain their favor. He was just a small fish to these men of global power. they did not concern themselves with the pointless struggles of little gangs in the soot stained land they came from. Serigan, now Cuttah to his ilk, was not satisfied with this dynamic though. These powerful men should care what happens on the streets that raised them. They should the people like the gangs did. They should protect them, not just collect their black and gray market profits and run off to whatever nice city they actually lived in. He started a new plan. this plan was to be his last though. In the four years it took him to implement it his gang became far too visible. Not only did he find himself no longer invited to nice meetings of crime bosses but also was the target of harsh crack downs by the local authorities. In the space of a year Serigan found himself no longer on the top but with a high price on his head from both the normal folks who like to put bounties on heads, but, also on the hit lists of the crime bosses that he once wanted to be like. Serigan's walls closed in and a damp cell for the rest of his life was the best he could hope for. Just like he entered the stage, with flash and a bloodbath, he left it. He fled to the West. He ran until he couldn't run anymore. With little money and nowhere to go he found his answer. Turns out there was a guild for people like him. A guild for people with no skills aside from the kind that result in trips to the local hospital. Why not pop in and see if they just happen to need a strong arm to lift a sword? Maybe, just maybe, there would be room for advancement. |
43,557 | 1,194 | 13 | 1,204 | 37 | Pascal collected the reward from Athena, together with another white folder. While walking towards the apothecary he thought how quaint that Serigan fellow was. A smirk appeared on his face: “russtle up s'm bacon” heh! The more he thought about it the funnier it became.
He took his leave briefly in order to conclude his business with Hygiea. When he entered the room, he recognized at once the familiar red hair.
“Mable!” he called, then, when she turned to him, he realized he had nothing to say. He waved awkwardly. Then he finally remembered that Athena gave him her part of the reward in a white folder. “Here, this is for you. I am just surprised Athena trusted me with this...”
Beyond the counter Hygiea was checking some herbs. There was another figure in the room, a monk of sorts. He waited until the man had finished, then he approached the counter, gesturing to Mable to come closer too. He unraveled the content of the pouches on the table and divided the mushrooms on the side.
“We have been to the farm, and eradicated these toxic plants. I found these mushrooms unaffected, so I was wondering if it’s possible to use their spores to neutralize the toxine for good. And also…. Wait… what did you want to do with these plants, Mable? ” | Name: Pascal Marduk
Appearance: Bristle gray hair and beard, bony cheeks and aged eyes of a deep brown. Even though tall, he is not an imposing figure, he spends most of his time hunched over. He assumed that pose naturally, maybe due to his age, or maybe because it makes him feel more on the ready. At any rate, it became part of who he is.
He wears a long brown hood that covers him as a poncho. Pockets and flasks hang from the large belt. Depending on the way he moves, sometimes under the folds of the hooded cloak the hilt of a daga may show itself.
Age: 47 Male
Height: 190cm
Build: Regular slender build.
Weapon of choice: Daga, Dagger, Venom.
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 100
Current items in possession: One Potion, and a satchel with personal effects. An old Daga, very sharp, and a flask of vyper’s venom.
Basic Skills: Athletic and dexterous. He is used to snake’s venom, and (in doses) he can be immune to it. He became quite good at playing Hex (a game of card), which is a more complicated version of the Old Maid game.
Personality: He is oblivious to etiquette or tact. But he can be very patient. He talks in a low tone, quite smoothly and with an hint of old in his timbre. He is very thoughtful and often stops talking in order to process a thought, and often talks in philosophical adagio. He wants redemption for his past life.
Occupation before joining the guild: Entertainer - Tumbler, Thief, Wanderer.
Basic origin story: Since young age, Pascal used to work in a travelling circus as a tumbler. At age 20, he left, and joined bad companies. His acrobatics skills gave him value in the eyes of the underworld lords. He was used to infiltrate and steal items of value from rich mansions. He became a renown thief. Once though, he was charged with retrieving a relic from the Comity’s chambers. Inside of the vault though, he found a fierceful fighter guarding the item: the Guild Master himself. The two crossed blades, and soon Pascal was defeated. But Ares recognized something in him and spared his life, only to invite him to redeem his life by serving the mercenary group he was part of. Pascal escaped, probably mostly due to the Guild Master’s pity. Pierced by the Master’s words and glare, he made a vow: to prove he was better then the rat he had become, that his destiny was not to die a rat. He was 38 at the time, then he spent 7 years traveling in search of his true destiny.
One day he noticed a snake, curled up on a sunny rock. The animal raised his head hissing. Pascal swiftly tried to grab its tail but the snake was faster and stung him. In the moments of pain that followed Pascal hallucinated, and saw the snake slithering away, drawing beautiful strokes on the ground. He got up and followed the strokes with his feet as if in a dance. Then he collapsed. Luckily for him a traveller found him unconscious and healed him. They became fast friends. Lucius was the name of the traveller. Pascal learned a lot from that episode. The path of the Snake was now set in front of him: steady and majestic the snake attacks only to protect or hunt he thought, it stays invisible until it is time to strike, using the environment to its advantage. He studied the animal’s movements in his travel and its hunting techniques, incorporating them in his style of fighting. But this was also a discipline and a philosophy for him.
When Pascal joined the guild, then, he was 47, called by the same young man he once met, Ares who was now at the head of a group of people defending the world and protecting those in need.
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43,558 | 1,194 | 14 | 1,508 | 484 | Mable beamed taking her money saying to Pascal "I'm not surprised she trusted you you're my favorite traveling companion." Mable turned to Hygeia brightly "I brought these vines in hopefully we could put the vines poison to work for us." Mable smiled warmly heading out with Pascal after there business "Well Orstwych is several days perhaps even a few weeks away so we'll need to buy provisions at the very least. If you meet me in the grand hall I'll gather my things and buy us provisions." Mable turned sprinting off eagerly down the empty halls. Mable packed all her things surprised they'd return to her homeland so soon. In truth rather nervous, but excited to travel. When she came to the dinning room she bought a weeks rations spending 150 yule of her 200 to purchase enough soup and orange juice to keep them alive and scurvy free. Mable pocketed her fifty yule heading in to the grand hall to see in the others had gathered yet. Mable knew a whetstone would have been smart, but she may need her fifty yule. Mable gave her axe some testing swings beginning a practice duel with herself in the front area keeping away from people as she practiced. | Name: Mable of Orstwych
Appearance: A young woman with cold blue eyes and red hair. A worn reinforced leather armor wrapped around her.
Age: 22
Height: 5'8
Build: Muscled but plump
Weapon of choice: A longsword and shield with two throwing knives.
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 2205 Yule
Current items in possession: A weeks rations, Reinforced leather armor, An iron shield, two iron daggers, and a iron long sword.
Basic Skills: Basic Tracking, mild resistance to cold temperatures, and basic equipment repairs
Personality: Mable is brave but also aggressive almost to a fault. She will rarely refuse a challenge but values a fair fight. Mable is smart, but impatient refusing to plan more then her next four moves when considering an attack. IT should be said however that her main trait is fearsome loyalty to those she calls her friends willing to ride into any danger to protect them.
Occupation before joining the guild: Wandering mercenary
Basic origin story: Mable was a simple woman at first. She lived in her camp with her husband. Mable often would hunt clubbing enemies to death with her wood club and shield. Mable had been married at fifteen to her beloved and they spent four happy years together. The forth year however while Mable was hunting her mate went to the council. He made claims that she was barren so they granted him a second wife. In a month the new wife was great with child. Mable was repaid for her years of affection by betrayal.
In her rage Mable beat her husband to death before fleeing into the snowy wastes. A long time later when Mable was starving she accepted the offer of a mercenary band. They quickly discovered her ferocity as she beat individuals to death with her club. When it shattered Mable took up the sword. One dark night her allies betrayed her trying to sell her as a slave on the black market. Mable killed her once allies and headed west alone seeking there fabled lands. Upon hearing of the guild decided she'd seek out a family in the guild having heard they were loyal souls. |
43,559 | 1,194 | 15 | 1,545 | 95 | - - -
"Brought you something, Artemis." Ulfgar said, throwing a small satchel at her as he leaned against the wall of her forgery. It was a small piece of gemstone. Sure, Ulfgar knew she mostly did weaponry and armour, but he was sure he could - somehow, someday - convince her to try out jewellery as well. It had been his own personal mission the past few years.
"Just give it a try! It's like therapy. I'll help you out if you need a hand. Are you afraid people will actually think you're a woman? Or. . . Is it too difficult?" he teased. They had been friends for quite a while now, both being interested in the art of forging and metalwork. But Ulfgar did like to get on her nerves.
He had returned that morning from a quest, or rather a request. It was a delivery to the city which was quite important, so he was trusted with it. The hike was long but not too bad. Having grown up in the mountains, being from a mining family and all, had his legs trained to climb up and down mountains. But besides that, he just loved walking so this had just been another stroll to him.
Anyway, it was good to be back. The guild was still a place he preferred to be at the most. It was all he longed for after a long day. And besides being home again, the weather was great. Yes, Ulfgar felt quite content that day. And when he felt content he started to get a little boisterous. Usually the people he was closest to were victim to such behaviour.
"So, anything new since I was gone? Any new recruits? Anyone passed away?" | Name: Ulfgar Bergström
Age: 37
Height: 178cm
Build: Toned
Gender: Male
Weapon of choice:
Claymore, or Bearded Axe.
Basic Skills:
Due to the way he has been raised he has become familiar with smithing and maintaining weaponry. He knows how to handle certain materials and knows what they're good for. Weapon-wise, Ulfgar started training at the guild with two-Handed swords and axes, the latter being an coincidence for he discovered the easy handling of such tool after being attacked on a quest which required him to gather wood. He also has an excellent stamina for his age. Wherever he goes, he goes there in a slow but steady trot which he can keep up for hours on end, often causing a thundering headache however.
Yule:
75 Yule currently in possession
Items
Weaponry: Claymore , Bearded Axe
Other: Fire-starting kit , waterskin, fur .
Personality:
Ulfgar is a patient man, he could wait for days on end if he had to, and has become quite social since joining the guild 5 years ago. When you need someone to listen to your problems when no other will, Ulfgar is the man. He is protective over the people he loves and would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat, had he no other choice. Also, he's a man who likes to hug. You don't start a conversation without receiving a warm embrace.
Occupation before joining the guild:
Mining and Smithing (- weapons and simple jewellery)
Character History/Bio
Ulfgar along with his brother Rigmar, are the kin of Fjolnir 'the Tall' (-whose name suited his height) and Morgayne Bergström. He was born and raised in a settlement of the small mining town along a soft flowing river. He and Rigmar grew up poverty stricken, and as such started working at a young age. At first they had worked with the smelters, ensure the fire was always lit by feeding it coal. After a few years, the two young boys were told to work in the mines like any other young man. The work was hard and provided minimal reward, but it surely was enough to keep them fed.
Not soon after, raiders invaded the mines for the rich veins within the mountain. The minuscule town was soon crawling with the savage party of raiders. During the tedious battle, his father, Fjolnir the Tall was fatally injured during the fight to keep them off, developing an infection in his wound in the weeks following and succumbing to death shortly thereafter. The raid finally came to an end and luckily most of Ulfgar’s family was spared, but many others were killed during the intensive battle.
After Fjolnir’s death, to ensure safety of the workers, guards were quickly stationed at the mines. Rigmar developed an interest in keeping the mines safe and quickly left his mining career in exchange for a Guards garb, occasionally bringing a decent amount of gold to his family’s income.
Ulfgar took over the job his father had at the mines while Morgayne stayed with her husband until the very bitter end. Ulfgar worked intensively, but gained a bulky physique and learned to forge through the process. He proved to be a natural talent when it came to smithing iron and steel, occasionally working on simple jewelry when time allowed.
A few years passed with no word from Rigmar, nor gold to help his family. Ulfgar still doesn’t know for certain whether or not he had died, or just lost interest in his family. Either way, Morgayne was quick to move from Karthwasten with her second husband to the city when the opportunity arose. Ulfgar sometimes would send letters, and very rarely she replied; but when she sailed for open sea with her new lover to other lands, Ulfgar lost the contact which he had cherished so dearly.
For the first time he felt truly alone.
Alone wasn’t something Ulfgar could handle, he became very depressed and would spend most of his days wandering aimlessly around the river where his father had been buried, tired of the physically exhausting and emotionally draining life he had made for himself. The feeling of hopelessness overcame him and he came to the decision to end it all, stealing rope from the mine one night and wandering out into the woods alone. He tied the rope around a sturdy branch and prepared himself for the end.
It was then that he heard a sound behind him; footsteps which came to a halt. As he turned he saw an elder man standing there. They had stared at each other in silence for seconds, even minutes, before the man had asked him what he was doing. Ulfgar had replied bluntly and told him that he was going to end his life. To which the man replied with another question, 'Why?'.
They continued to talk for a while, and during the conversation Ulfgar had slowly distanced himself from the rope. The old man told him of his life as an old guild member and how he had found family and purpose there. And, if Ulfgar felt like he could handle it, the old man was challenging him now, he should become a member as well. Then he'd have purpose again. Then he'd have family again.
Ending himself wasn't the answer.
It has now been 6 years since those dark thoughts had roamed his mind. 5 years ago he joined the guild; The White Lily. He learned to read, write and calculate there, having been illiterate all his life. They taught him how to be stronger, both mentally and physically. He started meditating whenever he had time to spare between quests, and trained almost all hours of the day while at the guild. Since that day, 5 years ago, he lives at the guild as an experienced member.
Nowadays he doesn't go on many quests anymore, only picking the ones which truly fancy his interest or when he is asked to join. He doesn't go on many quests alone, preferring to aid or be aided wherever he goes. Besides, it's nice to have someone at your side to have a chat with. But most of his days he stays at the guild, helping youngsters out or simply conversing with Athena, Artemis, Hygiea, Hathor and, occasionally, with the guild master, Ares, himself. |
43,560 | 1,194 | 16 | 1,903 | 443 | "I think I will be going on a mission actually. I have been sitting around for to long and think its time to get moving again, plus Spat is getting reckless." He said with a smile then let Hygeia get to work with the other guild members and then left, Spat following close behind him. He did enjoy the woman's company and would have sat with her all day but he knew it was time to pull his weight. Even though he was trained to live off of next to nothing he did want to earn some money and he felt that he needed to make some new allies within the guild.
It only seemed right plus a traveling companion would be nice, not that Spat wasn't a good friend, but its different. He walked back out into the front and started to listen to the other guild members talk about some of the jobs on the board. The one in Orlind seemed a little out of his reach, a blind man moving things, Alfie was good at a lot but even he could admit that he had no strengths there. He might have done the quest in Glour, but he never used swords. Alfie was taught by his master to fight with staff, spear and his hands so it would be a waste for him to do that. The last one about a wolf pack in Irbel caught his interest.
During his training, his monk troupe would go to Orstwych to hunt the wild animals and creatures there. It was during the winter and know as the Cleansing Period. Everyone in the troupe but the children would fight and fast to "cleanse" their bodies, minds and sprints for the new year. This would be just like that and he could get a chance to stretch his legs. He walked over to Athena and smiled and waved.
"Hey Athena, I was wondering if I could take up the mission in Irbel?" | Name: Alfie Reid
Appearance: Alfie has green eyes and is quiet muscular. He has no hair due to his vow and two tattos on his arms.
Age: 23
Height: 5'9
Build: Lean
Weapon of choice: Light weight Metal Staff, leather bracers
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 50
Current items in possession: A pouch that has a strap that goes over his shoulder that currently only holds his yule, a pair of leather bracers, and the cloth that carries his staff.
Basic Skills: Heightened senses because he is blind, hand to hand combat, staff and spear training, well versed in herbal medicines.
Personality: Being the monk he is, Alfie is very friendly and always tries to find another solution to a fight. He understands the necessity for it but still looks for other options, always trying to find the bright side to every person and every situation. He can be very outspoken at times and loves to interact with others. He can be serious when the time calls for it and he never gets mad, but most of the time he is light-hearted and fun to be around.
Occupation before joining the guild: Warrior Monk/Hunter
Basic origin story: Alfie was born blind, something rare in Draykon. They did not know what to do with him so for the first few years of his life he grew up locked away, his parents where simple coal miners in Glour so this type of thing was new to them. A man had come to their door dressed in long robes, and said that he had heard of their child and offered to take him and teach him how to live, Alfie's parents could not pass up this chance, not only could this be their only chance to get ride of their broken child, but also restore their reputation with their small community. So they did and but unbeknown to them they had given Alfie to nomadic tribe of Warrior Monks.
These monks where known to migrate throughout three different countries: Glinnery for meditation and learning ones self, Glour for pilgrimages and training, and Orstwych for fighting, and purifying. These monks where known for taking in lost children and turning them into warriors that live by a code. There are only 20 or so at a time and usually one that leads the rest in experience and age. Alfie was 7 when his training officially began and it was a rough childhood, learning how to live and "see" with his blindness, learning to use it to feel the land and area around him. When he turned 12 after going through many migrations with his new family he was deemed ready to start his combat training.
He trained, fought, and grew as a person. As a young man he was some what restless, there where so many sounds and feelings he had yet to experience. So may things outside of the 3 countries he had consistently walked and traveled through. His master or "father" saw this and decided to cast him out, saying he was young and not fit to live with young children and old men. So Alfie left in the night, not really knowing where he was going and walked for days, until he slipped into a village in Nimdre. There he met a woman and, he was 20 by now, and began to live with her breaking his vows as a monk, falling in love, even getting married.
They lived in a village close to the border of Ullarn and Nimdre, and this is where the problem arose. One day they went out as usual to pick fruits and check their traps, Alfie had wandered off to make sure certain things were in order and their village was attacked. Bandits had attacked they came to loot, steal, raid and pillage everything in sight. He lost his wife and child, kidnapped, and turned back to his vows and the warrior monk life. He started to do jobs with his only friend a dog named Spat. He just recently joined the guild, only hearing about them once or twice, them he met a member of the guild who introduced him to the right people after recognizing his skill. |
43,561 | 1,194 | 17 | 989 | 495 | Athena
Athena watched the door closely as the sounds of footsteps approached it. The sudden thud of it opening and Marble rushing in with an arm full of poisonous weeds and heading towards Hygiea startled her momentarily. The fresh air poured into the room and the sounds of the flowing stream echoed of the entryway arch. This followed by the clanking thud of a cane being picked up and dropped repeatedly with heavy steps to accompany them.
A bag of weeds was dropped in front of her, presented by the smug face of Serigan who had a smug smile running across his face. No doubt proud of himself for carrying the load for Pascal. Athena gratefully smiled at the gentleman as Pascal made his way close behind and stopped in front of the counter. "Okay Pascal, here is your share and in this envelope is Marbles. The split is given at 200 Yule each. I don't normally hand out another's share to anyone but the individual it is intended for but, it seems she was expecting you to pick it up so I will let it go this once." Athena handed over the payments, smiling curtly. Her voice, ever soft and gentle danced as she spoke.
Athena looked at the two of them momentarily before speaking again. "If you are truly intending on taking the Boar mission, I must beg you to be careful. They have been increasingly vicious lately at no probable cause. If you could as well, please keep an eye out along your journey for any items that may have been dumped off the caravan during the attack. Each item you bring back may grant you a bonus of some kind depending on what it is. Finally, Hagor is requesting at least one of the Boar brought back for fresh meat so, if it is able to be done please do so. She will be grateful." She spoke prudently and urgently as if truly worried about the little group.
The two adventurers turned, Pascal, sack in hand, heading towards Hygiea. Moving past him was Alfie who had just concluded his interaction with Hygiea. At his request to take the wolf mission in Irbel, Athena nodded then in an instant realized he could not see it. "You may take the mission. It is a long journey though as this mission crosses a country and path. If you are lucky they stayed in a pack and are somewhere between Irbel and Nimdre. This is a two man mission but as I know someone else will be coming along shortly I will send them your way to assist you. Good luck Alfie." She said this genuinely and earnestly.
She began taking notes in on several sheets and filing them away running about here and there behind her counter, her long white hair tailing her elegantly like wind blown ribbons.
Hygiea
Hygiea was pleasantly surprised by all the company she was receiving. She sipped on her cup as Alfie spoke and smiled at his interest in picking up a mission. The well behaved companion at his side, sitting quietly as the two spoke. "I wish you a safe return my friend." she called after him as he began making his way towards the marketplace entrance, approaching Athena.
Halfway through the room and heading towards her was Mable, holding several samples of weeds of which she dropped on her table. Trailing behind her was Pascal, also holding some weeds and also some mushrooms. She listened intently as they spoke, being sure to take in everything they said. "Fantastic observation Pascal, thank you for bringing me a sample of the mushrooms to study as well. And to you Marble for bringing me all of what you picked. These are fine samples and plenty of them as well! As it so happens, if I make an oil of these they and you coat your weapons with them before a fight, it will assist in poisoning your enemies." Hygiea was tickled at being thought of for the last mission. She had been hoping for them to bring back the weeds so she could make poisons and antidotes with them. "Now dears, please take a strength potion each for bringing me these wonderful treasures. You will each also get a small vial of my extract for your weapons in a weeks time as it will take some time to remove the oils from these little rascals. I will possibly have a solution for Farmer Francis by the time you get back from your next mission." She smiled curtly, delighted at the project at hand.
Hygiea gazed at them as they collected their strength potions and made their way from the room, quickly beginning the extraction process on the weeds.
Artemis
Artemis watched as guild members rushed in and out of the room to speak with Hygiea. She began purposefully using her whetstone as loudly as possible, listening to them intently as they spoke, putting down on sword and then picking up another to begin sharpening. As each member came and went she glanced at her good, then her forge, then the map and sighed heavily, meticulously watching their armour for dents and scratches.
Artemis was still sitting on her counter when Ulfgar stampeded into the room with a small satchel in his hands which he proceeded to throw at her. She caught it of course, excited at the retrieval of a new piece of ore, or perhaps a rare arrow head. To her disappointment upon opening the sack, she found an exquisite gemstone inside. She rolled her eyes, widely and obviously. "Ulfgar come on. I'm begging for some rare ore and you give me this gem! I'm a Weapons and Armour master, at least give me some armour to attach it too!" though her voice was loud, she was smiling and smacking Ulfgar a little harder then what would be comfortable on the shoulder. She then pointed at her chest which was seemingly the only thing covered on her torso and said, "I don't think I have to worry about that. What? Do you have some girl you're trying to impress or something?"
Artemis was laughing now and smacking her hand against the counter in dramatic enthusiasm. She picked up the gem and peered at it closely, holding it up just a few inches from her eyes to watch the light reflecting through it's surface. She sighed again, loudly and in a fake irritation. "Since you won't leave me alone about it, I'll see what I can do." Truthfully, this gem was rather beautiful. While Artemis wouldn't wear anything like it herself, she thought it would like wonderfully on Athena. "You get over there and start hammering out a pendant while I polish the stone. Make sure it looks nice now so I can etch details into if for Athena! If she's going to wear it, it'd better the prettiest god damned thing there is!" The threw some silver oar at Ulfgar and hopped off the counter beginning her work at shaping the gem to be inlaid into a pendent. | Name: Ares (Are-Es)
Age: 53
Height: 6' 4" or 193cm
Build: Somewhat slender and tall
Weapon of choice: One medium length sword and throwing knives
Basic Skills: Extremely persuasive in matters of importance, nimble and an expert level swordsman.
Personality: Does not often strike up a conversation unless something important is to be discussed. He won't turn you away and will listen intently of all matters brought to his attention but is usually deep in thought on matters of importance brought up by the comity.
Occupation before joining the guild: Draykon Mercenary
Basic origin story: Worked for the Draykon comity for many years as a mercenary until he began exploring the mountains or Irbel and discovered the ruins of an ancient landmark, almost like a throne room of some kind. He pulled together some of the lower ranking mercenaries and built what is now the guild. After discussing the prospect of the guild to the comity it was approved immediately with the condition that Ares become an adviser to the comity and report any suspicious on goings to them.
NPCs:
The Administrator
Athena is the Administrator. She is the person who receives a missions before posting them on the notice board. When picking up, turning in, or collecting a reward on a mission, she is the one you need to talk to. You would also speak to her about additional details on a mission if you feel you need them. She is quiet and soft spoken most of the time but will always be sure your questions are answered.
The Blacksmith or Weapons and Armour Master
Artemis is stubborn and hard headed but, she is the best blacksmith in all of Draykon. She'll get on you if your not routinely getting your weapons and armour checked out for defects or tune-ups. She worked for the mercenaries of Draykon before they became the guild.
The Apothecary
Hygiea is a very skilled and wise apothecary. She may be an older woman but her knowledge of the art of herb mixtures and potion making is seemingly second to none. She is very humble and gracious often wishing adventures well off as they leave for missions.
The Bartender
Hathor is eccentric and lively. She was once an adventurer as well but found she enjoyed the food and drink more then the adventuring. Now she works the lounge giving energy and enthusiasm to the room. Hathor is extremely flirtatious if you get her talking for too long but it is mostly all in good humour. |
43,562 | 1,194 | 18 | 1,016 | 698 | Nihus Yorkek
“Would you mind if I accompany you?”
Nihus calmly walked over with a small friendly smile. The quest he overheard Alfie take up was the same he’s been eyeing ever since breakfast. Nihus considered himself a good hunter and while underequipped he needed to get back into the swing of things. Trying to read the barely legible ramblings of former adventurers in the library consumed an entire day. His first hunt as a boy forced him to use a bone as a weapon, so a dagger should do fine for now. What really sparked his interest was the monk’s willingness to hunt.
“You must be impressive. Hunting in your condition cannot be easy.” He expressed some mild concern, but this wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. While not knowing much about Alfie he has heard of an order of monks capable of defending themselves. It was only a rumor in his village, but his family had a gift for discovering even the least known capable fighters. Of course, the legend of blind monks who can take down a legion sounded farfetched, but there had to be some truth to it. | Name: Nihus Yorkek
Appearance:
Age: 26
Height: 6 ft 1 in
Build: Like many men in his family Nihus is tall, muscular and has dark skin. He’s considered the runt of the family since even his two sisters are taller than him. His hair is long and braided up in a fashion to keep it manageable and away from his eyes. His face is scarred with two over his nose due to encounters with wild animals.
Weapon of choice: Short swords and Bows.
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 70
Current items in possession: Yorkek Blade (family dagger), Religious Manuscripts, fur cape,
Basic Skills:
Tracking- The Yorkek family are a family of mainly hunters. Nihus has been trained by his parents and siblings to track animals and even people. While most of his experience is in the harsh environment of the savannah he’s still able to use some of his skills in many different environments.
Combat- Nihus training focuses on being quick and brutal in close combat. When fighting, he goes for immediately debilitating moves that will disable an opponent. Occasionally he switches to a bow when he wants to specifically fight at range or simply wound combatants.
Venom- Nimbre’s savannah is home to some of Draykon’s most dangerous beasts. Many of them use venom that cause severe pain, numbness and possibly even death. To live there one must be familiar with any manner of poison and how to treat it. He’s received some training in how to treat oneself and even others. While he may not be able to heal someone, he can delay the effects with the right herbs.
Sea Fairer- Until recently Nihus travelled by sea with many different captains serving different roles. Mostly as a guard but occasionally he even assisted with navigation after learning from the crew he’s served with.
Personality: patient, clever, intelligent, optimism,
Nihus is a very calm and patient man who tends to not say much. He isn’t very silent but often would rather bury himself in what religious and historical texts he can find. The enjoyment Nihus gets from just reading or even learning to read new things is enough that his payment could just be a book. Of course his life is also accompanied by violence. Nihus discovered how good he was with fighting and at one point only used his skill for his family. However, he couldn’t stand just fighting and killing for pay. To him just saving others or just helping someone make their life a little bit better was more preferable then simple death.
He does believe that violence is a solution and isn’t too perturbed by the need to use it, but more often than not it simply isn’t enjoyable to him. This is part of why he eventually left his home.
Occupation before joining the guild: Guard for the Merchant Ship Gasten
Basic origin story: Nihus was raised in the small village east of the port city Tinudren. He was brought up as another Yorkek hunter. The Yorkek clan is old and were viewed as mere primitive nomads to assassins throughout their entire existence. For a time, both were true but now they are simply seen as local bounty hunters. For the past five decades, they ended their nomadic life style and now raise children like Nihus to live out in the harsh savannah and also adapt to a more metropolitan life style. Nihus was taught to read, write, fight, hunt, treat wounds and domesticate wild animals. This was all necessary to know to continue the work his family has done. Today the Yorkek clan are asked to kill or capture wild and potentially exotic animals. Sometimes they are even paid to get rid of bandits or specific individuals who have become a nuisance to the wealthy land owners in Tinudren.
Nihus grew up learning about the tales of the great deeds his family performed, while exaggerations they ignited his interest in not only his own clan but also others. His curiosity and passion was slowly diverted from being a great hunter. Anytime a traveling merchant came through the village he would try his best and speak with them about other cities and peoples. His new priorities were becoming increasingly clear as he grew up. Every single hunt he’s been on whether it was animals or people he fought and killed efficiently, but his family noticed the lack of passion within him. Eventually he even wondered and discussed with his parents on the increase of hunts that involved actual humans. Whether they were necessary was often discussed but in the end, he just accepted it. By sixteen Nihus simply became increasingly isolated and helped fight out of a sense of duty, but everyone around him could sense the drain on his spirit. Eventually he was simply given the choice to leave or stay which he immediately chose the former. The need to venture out into the world was far too strong.
The city of Tinundren was his first stop due to the port there. He got a job working with traders who traveled by sea to conduct their business. Dealing with pirates, learning how to navigate the seas, picking up tips on trading, and finding out more interesting details on the world for five years certainly kept him busy. Still this wasn’t what he wanted from his life. Of course, these adventures he was on were never boring and in fact he learned about many different groups and guilds that people like him would join. There was an old woman who once told him of a guild in the mountains of Irbel who assisted people like her for pay. The old woman who told him this smiled and showed genuine happiness as she told him how this guild helped her. Helping the poor and weak wasn’t something he did often, but that smile almost seemed like it could be worth it. From then on, he tried his best to search for them. |
43,563 | 1,194 | 19 | 1,821 | 1,686 | Zhang's fingers tapped impatiently against the wooden table as she leaned up against her other arm, watching the patrons of the guild shuffle about their business. Apparently, this was the best opportunity for people of particular talents to earn money but with Zhang being a new arrival, she wasn't so sure this was for her. The contracts listed as of this morning were basic, trivial. There was well enough pay in some of them but if Zhang was honest with herself, money was never really her ambition.
So what was?
That was a question that Zhang couldn't really answer at the moment. At times she felt a real hunger for power, as in the ability to instruct and command once again. Perhaps she was her father's child after all? Ah, who was she kidding, she needed to go back to the army. Return to barking orders to the young, again. It was a shame that they wouldn't take her back, even though she tried. She was just considered to be too old. Perhaps if she were a man, she might have been able to go longer but her commanding office outlined Zhang's situation clearly, even though she didn't want to listen. Zhang was rapidly approaching the end of her fertility and as daughter of an elder, she did have a responsibility to bear a child for his dynasty. Unfortunately, Zhang didn't want to settle down now and yearned to see the world. Wanderlusted, she might never return...
But now wasn't the time to think about that. Even though she wasn't motivated by it, she needed money as her severance pay (as well as a nice sum of pay sent back home throughout her years) was waiting for her back home. However, she didn't want to return home so she had to take those trivial jobs to keep her going. Thankfully, she got her choice but she was going to wait it out for just the right....
Zhang's head perked up when she overheard the conversation between Athena and another concerning the wolf assignment (she was sitting close by). It was one of the assignments she was considering and had mentioned it to the Guild reception earlier. This was probably the time to chime in, especially as second man was coming forth and volunteering.
"Ai yah... Athena, I'll be taking a third spot on Merchant Franklin's assignment." Zhang hollered as she rose to her feet and walked the short distance to the two men gathered. "We are in together, yes?" Zhang asked the two of them in a sort of roundabout way of asking if they were okay with the group. | Zhang "Jane" LiangYing
Appearance: The people of a small northern province of Glinnery typically all follow a few presets concerning their appearance. They'll usually have a beige skin color, slender builds. Their hairs are found in a range of browns with the occasional array of blacks. Typically males do not grow hair on their body or even facial hair, but some can. Their most prominent feature are usually their epicanthic folds in their eyelids giving them an angular, slightly slitted eyes. Zhang has fair skin color that is just a few tones above a white. She is around average sized for a woman of her age and her hair, a deeper midnight black, is kept shorter than most with the length hovering just past shoulder length.
Age: 34
Height: 5'6"
Build: Slender
Weapon of choice: Spear
Amount of Yule currently in possession: ~50 Yule (Total wealth is slightly more with around 500 Yule owed to her in military severance package)
Current items in possession: Spear, Pila, and Sword
Basic Skills: Zhang's primary and relevant skills for guild service come from her time serving as Sergeant. Zhang has experience or has at least been trained properly in the instruction and command of smaller units of foot soldiers for battle. Included, but not properly tested, is her limited knowledge of battle and defense stratagems for command. However her greatest application of her talents as a Sergeant is one of proper training that can make any able-bodied person serviceable. Zhang's knowledge is her greatest asset for Guild service as she can offer a struggling town more than just a temporary solution to a reoccurring raid.
Of course she isn't some arm-chair leader and as a Sergeant, she was expected to serve on the frontlines. She has received excellent training in all different types of weaponry, but none more so than the basic spear, pila, and since she was a Sergeant, sword as well. There is nothing flashy about Zhang's preferred fighting style. No unique flourish or tricks. It'll be common and familiar to opponents who are experienced, but Zhang won't make many mistakes.
Personality: Zhang is much like her father although she has more of a quiet ambition as she isn't quite as gregarious and political as her father. Still, Zhang enjoys the feeling of leadership and dependence of others. Her time in the military has taught her to be stern and tough in public, although she is guilty of being a bit more tender and feminine in private.
Occupation before joining the guild: Sergeant
Basic origin story: Zhang hails from a larger rural village in the farther Northern parts of Glinnery. Her father was sort of a mayor-elect but without any election, instead people of the village tended to flock to him with their problems and he would coordinate the town to solve those problems. Since he sort of ran the town, he was considerably powerful with his influence, so much so, that he had convinced the Draykon military to accept his oldest child, Zhang, instead of his sickly second-born son in an attempt to spare his heir and marshal political favor with the rest of Draykon.
Since Zhang's father was relatively well-liked in the local area, the nearby garrison commander decided to promote and train Zhang initially as an officer. However, due to some distaste in the notion of a woman commander with some of the other officers, Zhang was demoted to a Sergeant. A role, as it turns out, that best suited Zhang's determination to prove herself as roughing it with the soldiers she commanded often earned her respect with the other foot soldiers.
Zhang never saw too much combat as the Northern portions of Glinnery were relatively calm, but there were a few times she saw battle. After a few years, Zhang's time as kind of a token for political favors was used up and she was free to leave, though it was more like she was kicked out of the army, especially since she still has yet to receive her severance pay.
After her brief stint, she didn't feel like returning to her father or family and instead sought employment with the Order of the White Lily, to appease her urge to travel and be her own person. |
43,564 | 1,194 | 20 | 285 | 266 | ... The f'th'un maybe we call'm Zack'ry. Like that'n, I does. M'uncle was call Zack'ry. Bit of a toss, but, good name. Serigan continued, now, talking about what they might want to call Athena and his fouth child. He did not bother to stop her from going about her work, she was an organized sort, he liked that. Someone to cook the books was always needed when you were after putting together an organization. Sometimes the guards would roll around and start asking questions after all. Suits you well to have a pretty face there with the evil in her mind to cook up a grand tale of legitimate transactions and how to hide the real goods. The gang leader fell silent as two men came up to the counter. He did not slide out of their way, but, made no move to stop them. They were just after excitement and clips, just like him. A blind fella he had seen a few times. Looked dangerous though, in that kind of 'Ee'll break'er neck if'n'y touch me hound' way. He wondered if he could convince that fella to box with him some time. Wanted to see exactly how good a blind man could be in a fight. The other was your kind of standard merc lookin' fella. Tough as nails and mean as a ganger with a boot full of gravel. Another type he recognized and generally liked. He allowed them to conduct their business with Athena before he spoke again, "Wha'cha think 'bout Zack'ry? I-" he stopped when he heard a voice. It was the kind of voice he recognized. Was a bit pushy, commanding, hungry. His blue eyes turned to the side and settled on the soldier lookin' Killie that was walking up. Serigan smiled at the sight of her. She looked meaner than sin and tougher than an Ash Alley rat. Soldier type from her bearing, yet, here she was. Why? Why does anyone want to shack up with a crowd of old knives and young breakers? 'Cuz you like the life.
Sergian stepped away from the counter and have a quick salute with his weighted cane at the woman named Zhang. He didn't know her name of course, to Serigan she was just The Soldier Killie. He caught her eyes and gave her a quick wink before he spoke, "Name's Serigan, or Cuttah, if'n'y like. Y'e'er find y'self in need of a whiskey, seek ol'Cuttah out. We c'n 'ave ou'selves a fine talk 'bout t'future o'dis 'ole place, eh?" he stepped past he with a smile and a pointed rap of his cane's point on the hard floor and moved over to where the red hair Killie was swinging her ax around.
He stepped up in front of her and unhooked the buckler from his belt and slid his hand around the metal grip. He flipped his cane around so the thin and unweighted tip of it was forward, like a mock sword. " 'Alf speed, eh?" he suggested before squaring off with her. "Sorry'nout all that blathah I toss'd at'ye and that Pascal fella. I spoke'out respect, I did, not 'gon 'apped again, eh?" he gave her a quick smile before exchanging a few mock rounds of blocks and parries with her, waiting for Pascal to arrive. | Name: Serigan "Cutter"
Appearance:
Life in the choking streets of Ullarn is a hard one and it makes all men hard, or dead. Serigan has the look of a man who has perhaps done and seen a few too many things. His dark blue eyes seem to just kind of stare into the distance when not focused on a single task. Little to no access to a proper barber, aside from the one 'snipper' you might have in your gang, gives Serigan's long-ish brown hair an unkempt mane-like quality that he deals with simply pushing it as far back as he can each morning and hoping for the best. His facial hair follows a similar philosophy to that of his hair. It is cut into a manageable shape but not as well groomed as it should be. He has a short beard that wraps the entire lower half of the thug's face in an, almost, ruggedly handsome fur. A small scar about and inch long rests on his left check leaving a thin strip of beard missing. His lips are marked by a number of small scars from where they have been busted and his nose is ever so slightly crooked, suffering the same fate as his lips. The thug's body is a much more impressive thing than the poorly kept head that sits atop it. He has massively broad shoulders set with the hard muscle of one accustomed to swinging heavy objects into other men's heads. His legs and arms are long and lithe, a body almost made for 'busting'. The thick, scarred, and vice-like hands that sit on the ends of long arms tell their own story of back alley brawls and one too many men strangled. Serigan covers his body with style only a bombastic gang leader can. He wears a number of layers of fine clothes that have been treated poorly. Each article of clothing speaks a tale of a man with enough money for nice clothing but not enough refinement to know what to do with them. The whole ensemble is covered by a thick, once white, fur lined and collar buff-coat. This is belted at the waist with a rugged sword belt slung with a couple daggers, a coin purse, and a set of dussack & buckler.
Age: 30
Height: 6'4"
Build: Hard lithe muscle set into the massive frame of a street thug.
Weapon of choice: Dussack & buckler
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 40
Current items in possession:
Dussack (Functions as a basic sword), buckler (small hand held shield designed for close fighting and good for little else), Three daggers (One to see, one to find, one to keep), a basic traveling pack (Tent, water skin, flint & Steel, 30' of hemp rope, bed roll), Swagger-stick (Thick wooden cane set with a heavy brass covered iron head), Buff-coat (His coat is a thick padded piece of armor that is made to still look street-stylish. It provides light armor for his torso, legs, and arms)
Basic Skills:
- Back Alley Fighting: Skilled at quick and dirty brawling the soot stained streets of Ullarn. Fighting with sword & shield, daggers, clubs, canes, and his bare hands but with little training and no experience with more impressive and rich weapons. What he lacks in training though he makes up for in practical knowledge. Wise to cheap tricks and wise enough to use them with deadly effectiveness.
- Shot-Caller: Serigan has an air of command and authority that he seems to carry with him everywhere he goes, even when unwarranted. This makes him a natural leader of gutter-scum who respect strength and cunning and intimidating to those not used to dealing with people not ready for the aggressive nature of the thug.
- Hard Knock Alma Mater: You don't crawl out of the sess pit of Ullarn alive without learning some things. Serigan might not have ever been to a school in his life but he knows how to spot an ambush by the nervous shuffles of impatient thugs. He can figure out the best way to bust into a shop with minimal effort and spot fake coins with ease. He couldn't tell you who painted what or what it means but he could point you to a good fence to sell it after you stole it if you wanted.
Personality:
Most people who grow up in the slums and factories of Ullarn are whipped dogs. They just mope from place to place and hope they get fed. Serigan is a different breed entirely. He saw what he wanted and he took it. With cunning, money, or force he took it. Serigan is the pinnacle of a man with more ambition than sense. Using his force of personality and size got him everything he wanted and this is still is go to method. Serigan often comes across as a bully or even cruel, yet, this is just the most effective tool he has always had. When intimidation fails he often becomes a much more amiable fellow. Serigan is and has always been one quick to laugh and find most jokes a riot. He clings to this sense of humor and a jovial nature with a death grip and this often gets him into trouble when his humor is inappropriate. The most valuable thing to the former gang leader is respect. He can tolerate nearly anything as long as the proper respect is paid. This goes both ways for Serigan. He was not the top of the food chain, even when he had his own crew behind him. He always knew there was a higher seat. Knew when to shut his mouth and where the kick backs were supposed to go. Violating this code of respect though reveals the merciless killer that all too often was seen on the streets. Disrespect is not tolerated and is repaid in blood. Maybe not just then, but, eventually everyone gets theirs. The wheel keeps turnin'.
Occupation before joining the guild: Gang Leader
Basic origin story:
Born to a bordering on meaningless family of factory workers just like every other person in Ullarn, Serigan, was just the fourth child in a long line of doomed kids. In the city there were only two choices for people like them; you get to be a slave in a factory; you get to be a slave to some gang leader. Neither of these options appealed to the rather large boy though. He figured that he had five brothers and they were all reasonably tough. Why not be their own gang? If you don't want to be splashed by piss on t'street bes'be t'one throwin', eh? They set their minds to seizing the territory around their home. Luckily, the gang that owned the little scrap of the city was a weak one. After recruiting all the cousins he could, the boys began their grand plan. they ran little scams here and there. They mugged who they could and stock piled the money they could. The boys were smart enough to throw the kick backs to the local gang without a single word of protest. That was, until they protested with everything they had. They stormed the hide out of the crew and fell on them in the way that only young men filled with fury and terror can. The place was ruined with blood and guts and standing soaked to his elbows in dark red stood the boy who had prompted all the others to take their fate into their hands, Serigan. He was fifteen years old.
The years that followed were hard and bloody. The boys turned into hard men and many of them turned into dead men. By the time Serigan was twenty five years old his gang was one of the most hated by the city authorities and power among the streets. He was privy to the meetings of many crime bosses and did what he could to gain their favor. He was just a small fish to these men of global power. they did not concern themselves with the pointless struggles of little gangs in the soot stained land they came from. Serigan, now Cuttah to his ilk, was not satisfied with this dynamic though. These powerful men should care what happens on the streets that raised them. They should the people like the gangs did. They should protect them, not just collect their black and gray market profits and run off to whatever nice city they actually lived in. He started a new plan. this plan was to be his last though. In the four years it took him to implement it his gang became far too visible. Not only did he find himself no longer invited to nice meetings of crime bosses but also was the target of harsh crack downs by the local authorities. In the space of a year Serigan found himself no longer on the top but with a high price on his head from both the normal folks who like to put bounties on heads, but, also on the hit lists of the crime bosses that he once wanted to be like. Serigan's walls closed in and a damp cell for the rest of his life was the best he could hope for. Just like he entered the stage, with flash and a bloodbath, he left it. He fled to the West. He ran until he couldn't run anymore. With little money and nowhere to go he found his answer. Turns out there was a guild for people like him. A guild for people with no skills aside from the kind that result in trips to the local hospital. Why not pop in and see if they just happen to need a strong arm to lift a sword? Maybe, just maybe, there would be room for advancement. |
43,565 | 1,194 | 21 | 1,545 | 95 | - - -
Ulfgar couldn’t help but chuckle at her reaction. ”Look, I just couldn’t find any ore on my trip, this is all I could find. Otherwise I would’ve brought it to you, you know that right. Just trust me, this is more fun than you think!” he uttered before he was smacked against the arm. She had multiple ways of tapping someone. Semi gentle or hard. I repeat semi gentle. He rubbed his shoulder to ease the discomforting thudding pain of her smacking him but soon forgot all about it as he laughed while she pointed out that she had nothing to worry about. And he agreed.
“What?” he then blinked, his smile slowly fading. “No. No! I - What no, I don’t have anyone to impress.” It was true, he had no one, but he started blushing nonetheless. His bearded cheeks glowing a hue of brighter red than they already were.
“HA! I knew you’d do it eventually.” He let out a triumphant laugh before putting his hangs on his hips. Of course, he was quickly set to work. This was going to be for Athena, it seemed, and it was more logical than Artemis keeping it, so he decided to do her best. Athena, a hard working woman to say the least, deserved only the best.
He caught the piece of ore and then tutted his lips, trying to calculate how long it would take to make of it a more useable slag. He’d start of with warming the smelter, asking Artemis to keep an eye on it while he ran to his room to grab a simple wooden cast.
It would take him at least a day to have the slag he required before putting it back in the smelter before he could pour it over into the cast. So it was going to be a long, and very warm, day. | Name: Ulfgar Bergström
Age: 37
Height: 178cm
Build: Toned
Gender: Male
Weapon of choice:
Claymore, or Bearded Axe.
Basic Skills:
Due to the way he has been raised he has become familiar with smithing and maintaining weaponry. He knows how to handle certain materials and knows what they're good for. Weapon-wise, Ulfgar started training at the guild with two-Handed swords and axes, the latter being an coincidence for he discovered the easy handling of such tool after being attacked on a quest which required him to gather wood. He also has an excellent stamina for his age. Wherever he goes, he goes there in a slow but steady trot which he can keep up for hours on end, often causing a thundering headache however.
Yule:
75 Yule currently in possession
Items
Weaponry: Claymore , Bearded Axe
Other: Fire-starting kit , waterskin, fur .
Personality:
Ulfgar is a patient man, he could wait for days on end if he had to, and has become quite social since joining the guild 5 years ago. When you need someone to listen to your problems when no other will, Ulfgar is the man. He is protective over the people he loves and would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat, had he no other choice. Also, he's a man who likes to hug. You don't start a conversation without receiving a warm embrace.
Occupation before joining the guild:
Mining and Smithing (- weapons and simple jewellery)
Character History/Bio
Ulfgar along with his brother Rigmar, are the kin of Fjolnir 'the Tall' (-whose name suited his height) and Morgayne Bergström. He was born and raised in a settlement of the small mining town along a soft flowing river. He and Rigmar grew up poverty stricken, and as such started working at a young age. At first they had worked with the smelters, ensure the fire was always lit by feeding it coal. After a few years, the two young boys were told to work in the mines like any other young man. The work was hard and provided minimal reward, but it surely was enough to keep them fed.
Not soon after, raiders invaded the mines for the rich veins within the mountain. The minuscule town was soon crawling with the savage party of raiders. During the tedious battle, his father, Fjolnir the Tall was fatally injured during the fight to keep them off, developing an infection in his wound in the weeks following and succumbing to death shortly thereafter. The raid finally came to an end and luckily most of Ulfgar’s family was spared, but many others were killed during the intensive battle.
After Fjolnir’s death, to ensure safety of the workers, guards were quickly stationed at the mines. Rigmar developed an interest in keeping the mines safe and quickly left his mining career in exchange for a Guards garb, occasionally bringing a decent amount of gold to his family’s income.
Ulfgar took over the job his father had at the mines while Morgayne stayed with her husband until the very bitter end. Ulfgar worked intensively, but gained a bulky physique and learned to forge through the process. He proved to be a natural talent when it came to smithing iron and steel, occasionally working on simple jewelry when time allowed.
A few years passed with no word from Rigmar, nor gold to help his family. Ulfgar still doesn’t know for certain whether or not he had died, or just lost interest in his family. Either way, Morgayne was quick to move from Karthwasten with her second husband to the city when the opportunity arose. Ulfgar sometimes would send letters, and very rarely she replied; but when she sailed for open sea with her new lover to other lands, Ulfgar lost the contact which he had cherished so dearly.
For the first time he felt truly alone.
Alone wasn’t something Ulfgar could handle, he became very depressed and would spend most of his days wandering aimlessly around the river where his father had been buried, tired of the physically exhausting and emotionally draining life he had made for himself. The feeling of hopelessness overcame him and he came to the decision to end it all, stealing rope from the mine one night and wandering out into the woods alone. He tied the rope around a sturdy branch and prepared himself for the end.
It was then that he heard a sound behind him; footsteps which came to a halt. As he turned he saw an elder man standing there. They had stared at each other in silence for seconds, even minutes, before the man had asked him what he was doing. Ulfgar had replied bluntly and told him that he was going to end his life. To which the man replied with another question, 'Why?'.
They continued to talk for a while, and during the conversation Ulfgar had slowly distanced himself from the rope. The old man told him of his life as an old guild member and how he had found family and purpose there. And, if Ulfgar felt like he could handle it, the old man was challenging him now, he should become a member as well. Then he'd have purpose again. Then he'd have family again.
Ending himself wasn't the answer.
It has now been 6 years since those dark thoughts had roamed his mind. 5 years ago he joined the guild; The White Lily. He learned to read, write and calculate there, having been illiterate all his life. They taught him how to be stronger, both mentally and physically. He started meditating whenever he had time to spare between quests, and trained almost all hours of the day while at the guild. Since that day, 5 years ago, he lives at the guild as an experienced member.
Nowadays he doesn't go on many quests anymore, only picking the ones which truly fancy his interest or when he is asked to join. He doesn't go on many quests alone, preferring to aid or be aided wherever he goes. Besides, it's nice to have someone at your side to have a chat with. But most of his days he stays at the guild, helping youngsters out or simply conversing with Athena, Artemis, Hygiea, Hathor and, occasionally, with the guild master, Ares, himself. |
43,566 | 1,194 | 22 | 1,016 | 698 | Nihus gave a nod towards Zhang. "Indeed it would be better if we had our own pack to chase down another. My name is Nihus." he reached out a hand to the former soldier. He knew little about the woman who arrived only recently. The armor and the way she carried herself was very military. Even former soldiers turned bandits were still rather disciplined in the way they fought the coin in your purse Another potential fiercesome fighter that got Nihus curious. Nihus was rarely enthralled by the call of the battle, but the people around here did give him the urge to at least spar briefly. He smiled briefly just thinking about it. Then came Serigan a man with the swagger of a old crimelord with the style to boot.
"We don't need to search for this pack if an old wolf like that is drawn to you heh!" He joked but was mentally already thinking of how this group would work best for a hunt. | Name: Nihus Yorkek
Appearance:
Age: 26
Height: 6 ft 1 in
Build: Like many men in his family Nihus is tall, muscular and has dark skin. He’s considered the runt of the family since even his two sisters are taller than him. His hair is long and braided up in a fashion to keep it manageable and away from his eyes. His face is scarred with two over his nose due to encounters with wild animals.
Weapon of choice: Short swords and Bows.
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 70
Current items in possession: Yorkek Blade (family dagger), Religious Manuscripts, fur cape,
Basic Skills:
Tracking- The Yorkek family are a family of mainly hunters. Nihus has been trained by his parents and siblings to track animals and even people. While most of his experience is in the harsh environment of the savannah he’s still able to use some of his skills in many different environments.
Combat- Nihus training focuses on being quick and brutal in close combat. When fighting, he goes for immediately debilitating moves that will disable an opponent. Occasionally he switches to a bow when he wants to specifically fight at range or simply wound combatants.
Venom- Nimbre’s savannah is home to some of Draykon’s most dangerous beasts. Many of them use venom that cause severe pain, numbness and possibly even death. To live there one must be familiar with any manner of poison and how to treat it. He’s received some training in how to treat oneself and even others. While he may not be able to heal someone, he can delay the effects with the right herbs.
Sea Fairer- Until recently Nihus travelled by sea with many different captains serving different roles. Mostly as a guard but occasionally he even assisted with navigation after learning from the crew he’s served with.
Personality: patient, clever, intelligent, optimism,
Nihus is a very calm and patient man who tends to not say much. He isn’t very silent but often would rather bury himself in what religious and historical texts he can find. The enjoyment Nihus gets from just reading or even learning to read new things is enough that his payment could just be a book. Of course his life is also accompanied by violence. Nihus discovered how good he was with fighting and at one point only used his skill for his family. However, he couldn’t stand just fighting and killing for pay. To him just saving others or just helping someone make their life a little bit better was more preferable then simple death.
He does believe that violence is a solution and isn’t too perturbed by the need to use it, but more often than not it simply isn’t enjoyable to him. This is part of why he eventually left his home.
Occupation before joining the guild: Guard for the Merchant Ship Gasten
Basic origin story: Nihus was raised in the small village east of the port city Tinudren. He was brought up as another Yorkek hunter. The Yorkek clan is old and were viewed as mere primitive nomads to assassins throughout their entire existence. For a time, both were true but now they are simply seen as local bounty hunters. For the past five decades, they ended their nomadic life style and now raise children like Nihus to live out in the harsh savannah and also adapt to a more metropolitan life style. Nihus was taught to read, write, fight, hunt, treat wounds and domesticate wild animals. This was all necessary to know to continue the work his family has done. Today the Yorkek clan are asked to kill or capture wild and potentially exotic animals. Sometimes they are even paid to get rid of bandits or specific individuals who have become a nuisance to the wealthy land owners in Tinudren.
Nihus grew up learning about the tales of the great deeds his family performed, while exaggerations they ignited his interest in not only his own clan but also others. His curiosity and passion was slowly diverted from being a great hunter. Anytime a traveling merchant came through the village he would try his best and speak with them about other cities and peoples. His new priorities were becoming increasingly clear as he grew up. Every single hunt he’s been on whether it was animals or people he fought and killed efficiently, but his family noticed the lack of passion within him. Eventually he even wondered and discussed with his parents on the increase of hunts that involved actual humans. Whether they were necessary was often discussed but in the end, he just accepted it. By sixteen Nihus simply became increasingly isolated and helped fight out of a sense of duty, but everyone around him could sense the drain on his spirit. Eventually he was simply given the choice to leave or stay which he immediately chose the former. The need to venture out into the world was far too strong.
The city of Tinundren was his first stop due to the port there. He got a job working with traders who traveled by sea to conduct their business. Dealing with pirates, learning how to navigate the seas, picking up tips on trading, and finding out more interesting details on the world for five years certainly kept him busy. Still this wasn’t what he wanted from his life. Of course, these adventures he was on were never boring and in fact he learned about many different groups and guilds that people like him would join. There was an old woman who once told him of a guild in the mountains of Irbel who assisted people like her for pay. The old woman who told him this smiled and showed genuine happiness as she told him how this guild helped her. Helping the poor and weak wasn’t something he did often, but that smile almost seemed like it could be worth it. From then on, he tried his best to search for them. |
43,567 | 1,194 | 23 | 1,204 | 37 | Pascal smiled at Hygea’s excitement for the task. He knew he now had some time to kill, and came absorbed by his thoughts stumbled again upon the Serigan fellow. A smile wrinkled his cheeks. He couldn’t help but like the tough man, he was sure that with him around, he would not be bored. As usual he was harassing the blue eyed girl, and certainly, given the opportunity, who knows what kind of rampage he would have gone on speaking to the blind one… although it didn’t look like the monk was in need of protection.
He found himself juggling his knife. He did this often: it helped him thinking. He created a mental list of rations and weapons he might need during the next trip.
“Though the Caravan will need our help soon, it won’t be of any use to rush out right now. Let’s wait till tomorrow morning, so that we can prepare more thoroughly.”
He collected the rations, prepared the pouches. They left the next day, despite the flamboyant protests of the ever energetic young man. The travel was somewhat pleasant and generally uneventful. The mighty mountains framing their view. They stopped by Frencis farm, and borrowed 3 horses. And after 2 days the horses attentive ears picked up the wind of familiar smell and sounds. Their reciprocal neigh announced their drawing near another party. And sure enough the outline of the caravan proceeding slowly towards them appeared. Pascal hopped down from the horse, fidgeting with the reins. | Name: Pascal Marduk
Appearance: Bristle gray hair and beard, bony cheeks and aged eyes of a deep brown. Even though tall, he is not an imposing figure, he spends most of his time hunched over. He assumed that pose naturally, maybe due to his age, or maybe because it makes him feel more on the ready. At any rate, it became part of who he is.
He wears a long brown hood that covers him as a poncho. Pockets and flasks hang from the large belt. Depending on the way he moves, sometimes under the folds of the hooded cloak the hilt of a daga may show itself.
Age: 47 Male
Height: 190cm
Build: Regular slender build.
Weapon of choice: Daga, Dagger, Venom.
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 100
Current items in possession: One Potion, and a satchel with personal effects. An old Daga, very sharp, and a flask of vyper’s venom.
Basic Skills: Athletic and dexterous. He is used to snake’s venom, and (in doses) he can be immune to it. He became quite good at playing Hex (a game of card), which is a more complicated version of the Old Maid game.
Personality: He is oblivious to etiquette or tact. But he can be very patient. He talks in a low tone, quite smoothly and with an hint of old in his timbre. He is very thoughtful and often stops talking in order to process a thought, and often talks in philosophical adagio. He wants redemption for his past life.
Occupation before joining the guild: Entertainer - Tumbler, Thief, Wanderer.
Basic origin story: Since young age, Pascal used to work in a travelling circus as a tumbler. At age 20, he left, and joined bad companies. His acrobatics skills gave him value in the eyes of the underworld lords. He was used to infiltrate and steal items of value from rich mansions. He became a renown thief. Once though, he was charged with retrieving a relic from the Comity’s chambers. Inside of the vault though, he found a fierceful fighter guarding the item: the Guild Master himself. The two crossed blades, and soon Pascal was defeated. But Ares recognized something in him and spared his life, only to invite him to redeem his life by serving the mercenary group he was part of. Pascal escaped, probably mostly due to the Guild Master’s pity. Pierced by the Master’s words and glare, he made a vow: to prove he was better then the rat he had become, that his destiny was not to die a rat. He was 38 at the time, then he spent 7 years traveling in search of his true destiny.
One day he noticed a snake, curled up on a sunny rock. The animal raised his head hissing. Pascal swiftly tried to grab its tail but the snake was faster and stung him. In the moments of pain that followed Pascal hallucinated, and saw the snake slithering away, drawing beautiful strokes on the ground. He got up and followed the strokes with his feet as if in a dance. Then he collapsed. Luckily for him a traveller found him unconscious and healed him. They became fast friends. Lucius was the name of the traveller. Pascal learned a lot from that episode. The path of the Snake was now set in front of him: steady and majestic the snake attacks only to protect or hunt he thought, it stays invisible until it is time to strike, using the environment to its advantage. He studied the animal’s movements in his travel and its hunting techniques, incorporating them in his style of fighting. But this was also a discipline and a philosophy for him.
When Pascal joined the guild, then, he was 47, called by the same young man he once met, Ares who was now at the head of a group of people defending the world and protecting those in need.
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43,568 | 1,194 | 24 | 1,508 | 484 | Mable waited by the gate for about four hours before realizing that Pascal wasn't coming. Mable packed her bags and with the extra time spent some money on gear repairs heading to Atremtis. Mable worked hard with the smith hoping to be able to aid her in the minor touch ups. Mable hadn't yet had her gear tested much since joining the guild. Mable went around finding her gold and taking it politely from her friends holding it for her. The day still only at lunch Mable didn't yet want to head to bed to sleep off the one mission she'd completed. It was also unfair off her to try and hog the missions so instead Mable put herself to work. Mable first tried to help Artemis with repairs and crafting. When that was done she hurried to help Hygeia. The work was long and tough, but Mable enjoyed the soreness in her muscles after a long day. Mable helped the cook make soup for dinner serving her fellow guild mates with zeal. While a few raised there eyebrows Mable didn't mind. The idea as Sergian had said that they were 'To good' for some tasks would only lead to a persons death.
The next morning Mable was again happily waiting as the three head out willing to drive the group at night and sleep at day so that they would make excellent time. In the end they managed to make triple time by eating in the saddle and traveling slowly at night. The horses were exhausted, but Mable fed them extremely well to keep up there energy. When they arrived Mable was asleep in her saddle woken by the sounds of the horses gently finding a good spot to dismount letting the horses sleep as Mable located the tracks hoping they'd lead her close to the burrow. It was likely there could be more as Mable found three separate paths noting them for her companions.
"We could each attack at once or it may be easier to tackle them alone. The burrows could contain anywhere from one to eight Boars so it's anyone's guess what the odds would be. The largest of the pack went south, but from tracks it's hard to distinguish gender. The female will have the most boars" | Name: Mable of Orstwych
Appearance: A young woman with cold blue eyes and red hair. A worn reinforced leather armor wrapped around her.
Age: 22
Height: 5'8
Build: Muscled but plump
Weapon of choice: A longsword and shield with two throwing knives.
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 2205 Yule
Current items in possession: A weeks rations, Reinforced leather armor, An iron shield, two iron daggers, and a iron long sword.
Basic Skills: Basic Tracking, mild resistance to cold temperatures, and basic equipment repairs
Personality: Mable is brave but also aggressive almost to a fault. She will rarely refuse a challenge but values a fair fight. Mable is smart, but impatient refusing to plan more then her next four moves when considering an attack. IT should be said however that her main trait is fearsome loyalty to those she calls her friends willing to ride into any danger to protect them.
Occupation before joining the guild: Wandering mercenary
Basic origin story: Mable was a simple woman at first. She lived in her camp with her husband. Mable often would hunt clubbing enemies to death with her wood club and shield. Mable had been married at fifteen to her beloved and they spent four happy years together. The forth year however while Mable was hunting her mate went to the council. He made claims that she was barren so they granted him a second wife. In a month the new wife was great with child. Mable was repaid for her years of affection by betrayal.
In her rage Mable beat her husband to death before fleeing into the snowy wastes. A long time later when Mable was starving she accepted the offer of a mercenary band. They quickly discovered her ferocity as she beat individuals to death with her club. When it shattered Mable took up the sword. One dark night her allies betrayed her trying to sell her as a slave on the black market. Mable killed her once allies and headed west alone seeking there fabled lands. Upon hearing of the guild decided she'd seek out a family in the guild having heard they were loyal souls. |
43,569 | 1,194 | 25 | 989 | 495 | The guild hall grew quiet with the departure of the group heading to Orstwych to hunt boar. Athena held her hands together and closed her eyes as the door closed behind the group as she had often done when groups left for hunting missions. Her hands clasped tight together as though rehearsing a prayer inside. Artemis glanced towards the door then towards Athena and nodded sharply before continuing to polish the precious gem.
In Hygieas corner, she began analysing the samples given to her by the guild members to help with Farmer Francis' continuing problem with the weeds. Her constant mumbling to herself as she often did was lost in the hammering and sharpening coming from Artemis' forge. The heat filled the room until Hagor came around handing Hygiea, Artemis, Athena and Ulfgar sandwiches then opening the large windows that lined the walls in the guild marketplace. The breeze that drifted in freshened the air and cooled the room.
The guild was ready and waiting as most members were now out on jobs, each worker sending a silent prayer to the adventurers as they trudged the lands towards their destinations. | Name: Ares (Are-Es)
Age: 53
Height: 6' 4" or 193cm
Build: Somewhat slender and tall
Weapon of choice: One medium length sword and throwing knives
Basic Skills: Extremely persuasive in matters of importance, nimble and an expert level swordsman.
Personality: Does not often strike up a conversation unless something important is to be discussed. He won't turn you away and will listen intently of all matters brought to his attention but is usually deep in thought on matters of importance brought up by the comity.
Occupation before joining the guild: Draykon Mercenary
Basic origin story: Worked for the Draykon comity for many years as a mercenary until he began exploring the mountains or Irbel and discovered the ruins of an ancient landmark, almost like a throne room of some kind. He pulled together some of the lower ranking mercenaries and built what is now the guild. After discussing the prospect of the guild to the comity it was approved immediately with the condition that Ares become an adviser to the comity and report any suspicious on goings to them.
NPCs:
The Administrator
Athena is the Administrator. She is the person who receives a missions before posting them on the notice board. When picking up, turning in, or collecting a reward on a mission, she is the one you need to talk to. You would also speak to her about additional details on a mission if you feel you need them. She is quiet and soft spoken most of the time but will always be sure your questions are answered.
The Blacksmith or Weapons and Armour Master
Artemis is stubborn and hard headed but, she is the best blacksmith in all of Draykon. She'll get on you if your not routinely getting your weapons and armour checked out for defects or tune-ups. She worked for the mercenaries of Draykon before they became the guild.
The Apothecary
Hygiea is a very skilled and wise apothecary. She may be an older woman but her knowledge of the art of herb mixtures and potion making is seemingly second to none. She is very humble and gracious often wishing adventures well off as they leave for missions.
The Bartender
Hathor is eccentric and lively. She was once an adventurer as well but found she enjoyed the food and drink more then the adventuring. Now she works the lounge giving energy and enthusiasm to the room. Hathor is extremely flirtatious if you get her talking for too long but it is mostly all in good humour. |
43,570 | 1,194 | 26 | 1,545 | 95 | Ulfgar was already dripping with sweat once Hagor came into the room to grant them a nice, fresh sandwich, which was welcomed with a warm smile and a slap on Hagor's shoulder, a gesture of appreciation from the friendly giant. He paused his work to lean back against the cool stone wall as he took a bite, humming in delight. The fresh breeze felt nice to his skin once the windows were opened, cooling the hall in which the marketplace was located. Again, it was a feeling he welcomed with open arms.
It was always a little tense when almost all members had left for quests. Everyone, including he himself, sent the members a little prayer. The guild cared about every single one of her members. They were family.
Once he finished eating, he approached one of the windows and leaned against the framing, taking a deep breath of fresh air. He wondered where everyone was at this moment, how far they already ventured and where their quest would bring them. And he hoped every single one of them returned unharmed and wiser than before they left on their quest. With a soft sigh he retreated to get back to work. | Name: Ulfgar Bergström
Age: 37
Height: 178cm
Build: Toned
Gender: Male
Weapon of choice:
Claymore, or Bearded Axe.
Basic Skills:
Due to the way he has been raised he has become familiar with smithing and maintaining weaponry. He knows how to handle certain materials and knows what they're good for. Weapon-wise, Ulfgar started training at the guild with two-Handed swords and axes, the latter being an coincidence for he discovered the easy handling of such tool after being attacked on a quest which required him to gather wood. He also has an excellent stamina for his age. Wherever he goes, he goes there in a slow but steady trot which he can keep up for hours on end, often causing a thundering headache however.
Yule:
75 Yule currently in possession
Items
Weaponry: Claymore , Bearded Axe
Other: Fire-starting kit , waterskin, fur .
Personality:
Ulfgar is a patient man, he could wait for days on end if he had to, and has become quite social since joining the guild 5 years ago. When you need someone to listen to your problems when no other will, Ulfgar is the man. He is protective over the people he loves and would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat, had he no other choice. Also, he's a man who likes to hug. You don't start a conversation without receiving a warm embrace.
Occupation before joining the guild:
Mining and Smithing (- weapons and simple jewellery)
Character History/Bio
Ulfgar along with his brother Rigmar, are the kin of Fjolnir 'the Tall' (-whose name suited his height) and Morgayne Bergström. He was born and raised in a settlement of the small mining town along a soft flowing river. He and Rigmar grew up poverty stricken, and as such started working at a young age. At first they had worked with the smelters, ensure the fire was always lit by feeding it coal. After a few years, the two young boys were told to work in the mines like any other young man. The work was hard and provided minimal reward, but it surely was enough to keep them fed.
Not soon after, raiders invaded the mines for the rich veins within the mountain. The minuscule town was soon crawling with the savage party of raiders. During the tedious battle, his father, Fjolnir the Tall was fatally injured during the fight to keep them off, developing an infection in his wound in the weeks following and succumbing to death shortly thereafter. The raid finally came to an end and luckily most of Ulfgar’s family was spared, but many others were killed during the intensive battle.
After Fjolnir’s death, to ensure safety of the workers, guards were quickly stationed at the mines. Rigmar developed an interest in keeping the mines safe and quickly left his mining career in exchange for a Guards garb, occasionally bringing a decent amount of gold to his family’s income.
Ulfgar took over the job his father had at the mines while Morgayne stayed with her husband until the very bitter end. Ulfgar worked intensively, but gained a bulky physique and learned to forge through the process. He proved to be a natural talent when it came to smithing iron and steel, occasionally working on simple jewelry when time allowed.
A few years passed with no word from Rigmar, nor gold to help his family. Ulfgar still doesn’t know for certain whether or not he had died, or just lost interest in his family. Either way, Morgayne was quick to move from Karthwasten with her second husband to the city when the opportunity arose. Ulfgar sometimes would send letters, and very rarely she replied; but when she sailed for open sea with her new lover to other lands, Ulfgar lost the contact which he had cherished so dearly.
For the first time he felt truly alone.
Alone wasn’t something Ulfgar could handle, he became very depressed and would spend most of his days wandering aimlessly around the river where his father had been buried, tired of the physically exhausting and emotionally draining life he had made for himself. The feeling of hopelessness overcame him and he came to the decision to end it all, stealing rope from the mine one night and wandering out into the woods alone. He tied the rope around a sturdy branch and prepared himself for the end.
It was then that he heard a sound behind him; footsteps which came to a halt. As he turned he saw an elder man standing there. They had stared at each other in silence for seconds, even minutes, before the man had asked him what he was doing. Ulfgar had replied bluntly and told him that he was going to end his life. To which the man replied with another question, 'Why?'.
They continued to talk for a while, and during the conversation Ulfgar had slowly distanced himself from the rope. The old man told him of his life as an old guild member and how he had found family and purpose there. And, if Ulfgar felt like he could handle it, the old man was challenging him now, he should become a member as well. Then he'd have purpose again. Then he'd have family again.
Ending himself wasn't the answer.
It has now been 6 years since those dark thoughts had roamed his mind. 5 years ago he joined the guild; The White Lily. He learned to read, write and calculate there, having been illiterate all his life. They taught him how to be stronger, both mentally and physically. He started meditating whenever he had time to spare between quests, and trained almost all hours of the day while at the guild. Since that day, 5 years ago, he lives at the guild as an experienced member.
Nowadays he doesn't go on many quests anymore, only picking the ones which truly fancy his interest or when he is asked to join. He doesn't go on many quests alone, preferring to aid or be aided wherever he goes. Besides, it's nice to have someone at your side to have a chat with. But most of his days he stays at the guild, helping youngsters out or simply conversing with Athena, Artemis, Hygiea, Hathor and, occasionally, with the guild master, Ares, himself. |
43,571 | 1,194 | 27 | 285 | 266 | Pascal had the queer impression that the man who walked up to them was in a state of fright even though in a controlled fashion. His handshake was cold and sweaty. He noticed his gaze darting back in the general direction of the caravan in fright. Pascal hunched forward and put a hand on his shoulder to somewhat reassure him.
“We are here to help with the boar situation, please fill us in”
“Thank the gods the Guild sent someone to help. It’s been chaos for weeks now!” the man wrung his hands nervously, eyes darting from side to side as if expecting to be ambushed at any second. “The damned things just hit us. Crazed they are!” he man bordered on hysterics, “Normal boar don’t act like this. It’s a curse of some kind. A curse!”
Serigan took a very willing step away from horrible hoofed beast that everyone seemed to love so much. He didn’t rightly trust them. Evil they was, too smart, like giant rock footed dogs. His blue eyes trailed over to Mable, she was doing some kind of tracking and had found the trails of the boars damned fast. It was impressive. Everything out here just looked like sticks and grass to ol’Cuttah. He strode up to the hysterical man and quickly reached out and knocked him on the forehead with his extended knuckle of his right hand. The sound made a thick TONK and the man’s eyes cleared of horror for a moment as he took in the sight of the large man. “T’ain’t no curses ‘ere John.” Serigan didn’t know if the man’s name was John, but, it was a good enough guess for the fella to see what he meant, “No peek nor wif o’a’witch not ‘ere nor there. Calm y’self a notch, eh? Y’jus been walkin’ in t’eir territory, yeah?” Serigan understood that idea. He had ordered his men to rob people for walking into his part of town. The boar were likely just doing the same thing. “We’ll cut’cha up’n’is bacon in no time. Got’s ‘erselves a master tracker, we does.” he cocked his thumb at Mable and smiled at the terrified man. “ ‘ey Mabbs,” he called out to the red head, “We set some kinda trap’n fer these pigs, eh? T’ey seem a mite touchy, thinks we can draws them out?”
Mable smiles “enough noise will draw them back or the smell of fresh meat” I try to set up a barricade around to base. I drag a few sharpening branches to set up to block the boars from charging us as I start cooking meat to lure them up twelve boars. Mable also collected several scrolls for the guildmaster carefully tucking them into her bag. Mable smiled “Can the survivors please go inside I think it’s better to Lure them to us and have them hit the spears only a few won’t die from the impact.” The task took quite awhile to get the villagers safe as Mable coated the wagons in twelve spears each asking for some help. The boars were nocturnal so it would be best to gather their strength until then Mable took out some fresh meat as the sun set beginning to cook.
“I agree with my peers.” said Pascal nodding slowly. “I would like to have an idea about your resources, how many men or women able to hold weapons, and where the goods are.” He let the stressed man lead him through the carts and when at times he would get worked up about the situation, Pascal would rest an understanding hand upon his shoulder and interrupt his flow.
“We are here to help. We will get through this, but till tomorrow morning, you will have to trust us. I need you to keep your men together, and keep your composure. You will be in charge of defending the goods and the kids.” then he individuated a stretch of the road that forked around an oak with particularly massive and gnarly roots. “Empty four carts of all edible goods that might attract the boar, and move them into a cart which we will keep away from the rest of your comrades. We will then surround that oak with those carts, and around the tree we will setup a tent where the children and those unable to fight will stay for the night. See those roots? Come, come here. ” he waved a beckoning gesture and lead the man to the tree, pointing down at the roots. A few other men haltingly tagged along. “See these roots?” Pascal said glancing at the nodding man “these will discourage the boar if they ever get passed the carts. Their hooves are not made to step in this mess of roots and this will make them easy targets, and slow them down. You will place three men with bows and spear within the tent whose only job is not to let any animal access the tent.” Pascal grabbed the man by the forearm and leaned in closed with a mumble. “Put the fathers of these kids on this duty: they won’t let anything pass, I promise you.” He walked back away from the tree, careful not to trip on the roots, and waving his finger around. A note of panting manifested in his voice. “You follow what Mable, that lovely young lady over there, is doing with those spears. Let’s prepare the four carts with spears on the out side, and some well buried on the ground around the perimeter and under the carts. This should get you through the night, and might be the boar won’t even mind you. Remember, no goods are worth a life. Now me and my compatriots will stay on the outside killing whatever beast has the bollocks to show its snarly face. We must finish all the preparations before night fall, then put your men on every cart. As my friend here says, tomorrow, we will eat some wild bacon.” He clapped his hands “Alright let’s get this done! We are running out of light.”
Pascal aligned himself with Serigan and rested his hand on his shoulder, then burying his fingers deeper, as if to test the lad’s thickness. He found himself curling his brows, somewhat surprised by the man’s shoulder. “Well, young man,” he smirked “if you are as tough as you look, I might just tell the kids they can sleep tight tonight.”
Serigan looked over at Pacal with a raised brow when he squeezed his shoulder, “Lil’ old fer my tastes.” he commented with a grin and a wink at the older man, “Kids’ll sleep jus’fine wit ol’Cuttah ‘ere. T’ey make’em tough where I come from. A few pigs ain’t gonna get ol’Cuttah so easy.” Serigan tossed his swagger stick over to the nearest kid with a smile, “Keep that’n’safe for ol’Cuttah, eh? Be needin’ in t’morn.” he had no idea just how true that would end up being. He set to work with Pascal organizing the people. He was no hunter or expert on fortification either. He was, however, very good at getting people to listen to him. He bellowed out the commands Mable had for the men and took charge when Pascal’s pleasantries would not suffice. The feeling came back to Serigan in a wave. Just like the old days. Telling men what to do and being listened to. It was intoxicating a good back alley brew.
Mable had the preparations ready as she pushed hard trying to help as much as she could to get her blood pumping. The three of them and the caravan were more than ready when she drew in the boars with fresh meat. The fifteen boar emerged as a pack most of them over 500 pounds. Mable watched arrows hit the largest one as the men braced themselves against the carts. A boar roared charging the cart by Mable impaling itself but driving the cart in nearly a foot. The ont attacking her cart was less successful as Mable strained her muscles stopping the cart. The boars circled slowly now searching for weakness. In the moonlight the only thing visible was the glint of there eyes. The ones that came close glowed in the red fire light as the caravan fired arrows until every shot was spent. The few boars on Mable’s side didn’t break through. There were three left who charged shattering the cart throwing Mable into the cart bleeding gently from her back. A single boar was still standing as it charged again bleeding from it’s side. A few of the men stabbed it with spears swinging an axe up Mable braced herself as the cut in her arm deepens. Mable wrapped her arm looking around for her friends hurrying over to help her left arm in shambles her axe ready.
With the traps and fortifications set it was all ready. Serigan grinned like a crazy person when he started to hear the boar closing in. He leaped up onto one of the border carts, peering out into the darkness. He quickly turned his dussack in tight circles around his body, getting ready for the flow. “Oh! Boys, ol’Cuttah sees’em out there!” he shouted pointing with the tip of his curved sword. The little red eyes glittering in the firelight made them look like something far more dangerous than just animals. They were aggressive though, too aggressive. Maybe they were under some kind of curse like the caravan master had mentioned. The gangleader balanced on the balls of his feet as the boar neared. Some rammed directly into the spear wall but many made it through. Two of the massive beasts slammed into the cart that Serigan was standing on. His body rocked back and forth, trying to keep his balance. His smile only widened. With a forward shift he leaped from the edge of the cart and drove his blade through the shoulders of one of the boars below, his weight adding to the strike. The beast fell dead with a squeal as the second boar turned to face him. He wrenched on his weapon, not quite freeing it. A string of vile curses that would make a brothel mother blush left his lips as he started to slam the edge of his buckler into the head of the boar just off to his left. The metal rang and pinged at the edge of the small shield repeatedly bounced off the tough skull. The boar’s face was a ruin of skin and broken bone by the time it finally flew into a proper rage. He charged forward at the large man and plowed into him. His thick coat deflected the slightly off center tusks. Serigan’s breath left his body with a powerful whoosh as he was thrown to the ground from the force. Luckily, the boar had pushed him hard enough for his blade to some free. Silver steel flashed in the firelight, dussack doing what it was meant to do, cut soft flesh. Serigan stood as the boar thrashed on the ground at his feet. “Pigs’is fer men t’eat!” he shouted at the dying thing.
His blue eyes scanned the area around him and locked on another boar running right for him. The things kept their heads low, it was smart, but, left them open. Serigan stepped back and took a tall posture, eyes measuring the distance as the boar flew toward him. He lifted one of his legs high and stomped it down as the boar neared him. His hard boot heel slammed into the thick skull of the animal and forced it into the ground, prone. Serigan slid back from the sudden transfer of motion, leaning all of his weight on the boar, pinning it under his heel. He twisted his boot grinding it into the neck of the pinned animal, “Tell’y pig gods ol’Cuttah sent’ya home.” he growled before driving the point of his blade through the boars shoulders. It squealed, and fell still. Serigan took his foot off the boar and looked back at the men behind the walls, hands outstretched, a smile on his face, “See? Ol’Cuttah always-” he was cut off by a sudden surge of boar from behind him. The gang leader’s vision spun as he was thrown from his feet. A lance of terrible pain shot up his right leg. A new stream of curses were flying from his mouth. He had lost grip on both his dussack and his buckler when the thing struck him, now it was rounding to finish him off. He could barely move his right leg and could see the dark liquid starting to pool around it in the dust. The massive pig turned and snorted as it began to run back at the prone Serigan, “C’mon ya fuckah! Deaf ain’t scarin’ me!” He screamed lurching forward and grabbing the boar by its tusks. The force of the boar pushed him across the ground, his arms strained with effort, failing effort. The eys of the boar so close to his own. Soon enough his strength would fail and the pig would eat man. Serigan wanted to call out for help from his companions, but, he could not bear to unclench his teeth from the exertion.
An axe arched down as blood coated Serigan’s face. Mable stood with a broken shoulder over the boar panting softly. Mable crouched down starting basic first aid on sergian “Be more careful Sergian we don’t need to bring your corpse home with us.” Mable joked tying his wounds up gently. Mable lifted Sergian gently over her shoulder walking him to the small camp area. Mable could tell he’d need the rest as she jogged away to check on the fighters hoping the boars were handled. Mable jogged over hoping to lend Pascal a hand her shoulder still bleeding gently.
The boars fell and the gang leader sat off to the side with his leg wrapped and his cane in his hand. One of the children came out of the wagon as the fighting ended and looked over at the large man, "Does it hurt?" he asked pointing at Serigan's wrapped leg, "I think it looks like it hurts, you are smiling though."
"'Course it 'urts lil 'un." Serigan tapped his wounded leg with the head of his cane and winced from the impact, "Jus' gotta be tougher than th'bacon, yeah?" he gave the boy a wide smile, eyes bright with battle exhaustion. The boy gave him a big smile back.
"I wanna grow up and be tough like you." the boy said trying to deepen his voice slightly.
Serigan gave the child a laugh and reached out and rubbed his hair, "Well, if'n'ya do, come find ol'Cuttah an'eel set'cha up with a fine job, he will."
The trip back was a nice relaxing ride hauling the ten dead boar and the sealed message back to the guild. Serigan was forced to ride the whole time due to his leg. He really did not like that. He disliked these horrible animals with their big stomping feet and smart eyes. However, it was better than the deathly slow pace he would have to set with his wounded leg. He spent most of the trip trying to get to know the killie who had saved his life. She had been quite helpful in the fight, like he thought she would be, and had even bound his leg. He knew nothing about doctoring and it was good to have someone around who did.
Serigan handed the horses off to some servants and told them to take the boars to the kitchen and that, bacon was served. Serigan stepped in with his companions through the front door. He leaned heavily on his cane, but, still had the theatrical sense to give Athena a big smile and a sweep of his hand as though presenting the returning heroes. "We c'm back! We bring y'bacon and great stories. Even got saved by this'n 'ere. She's a powerful foe indeed." he stepped up to the counter and dropped the contract down in front of the long hair woman. "Now, I find m'self with plenty o'clips an' free time while'm leg heals. Don'suppose I could move a chair in 'ere?" he gave the admin a quick blue eyed wink and waited for her to pay him and his comrades. | Name: Serigan "Cutter"
Appearance:
Life in the choking streets of Ullarn is a hard one and it makes all men hard, or dead. Serigan has the look of a man who has perhaps done and seen a few too many things. His dark blue eyes seem to just kind of stare into the distance when not focused on a single task. Little to no access to a proper barber, aside from the one 'snipper' you might have in your gang, gives Serigan's long-ish brown hair an unkempt mane-like quality that he deals with simply pushing it as far back as he can each morning and hoping for the best. His facial hair follows a similar philosophy to that of his hair. It is cut into a manageable shape but not as well groomed as it should be. He has a short beard that wraps the entire lower half of the thug's face in an, almost, ruggedly handsome fur. A small scar about and inch long rests on his left check leaving a thin strip of beard missing. His lips are marked by a number of small scars from where they have been busted and his nose is ever so slightly crooked, suffering the same fate as his lips. The thug's body is a much more impressive thing than the poorly kept head that sits atop it. He has massively broad shoulders set with the hard muscle of one accustomed to swinging heavy objects into other men's heads. His legs and arms are long and lithe, a body almost made for 'busting'. The thick, scarred, and vice-like hands that sit on the ends of long arms tell their own story of back alley brawls and one too many men strangled. Serigan covers his body with style only a bombastic gang leader can. He wears a number of layers of fine clothes that have been treated poorly. Each article of clothing speaks a tale of a man with enough money for nice clothing but not enough refinement to know what to do with them. The whole ensemble is covered by a thick, once white, fur lined and collar buff-coat. This is belted at the waist with a rugged sword belt slung with a couple daggers, a coin purse, and a set of dussack & buckler.
Age: 30
Height: 6'4"
Build: Hard lithe muscle set into the massive frame of a street thug.
Weapon of choice: Dussack & buckler
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 40
Current items in possession:
Dussack (Functions as a basic sword), buckler (small hand held shield designed for close fighting and good for little else), Three daggers (One to see, one to find, one to keep), a basic traveling pack (Tent, water skin, flint & Steel, 30' of hemp rope, bed roll), Swagger-stick (Thick wooden cane set with a heavy brass covered iron head), Buff-coat (His coat is a thick padded piece of armor that is made to still look street-stylish. It provides light armor for his torso, legs, and arms)
Basic Skills:
- Back Alley Fighting: Skilled at quick and dirty brawling the soot stained streets of Ullarn. Fighting with sword & shield, daggers, clubs, canes, and his bare hands but with little training and no experience with more impressive and rich weapons. What he lacks in training though he makes up for in practical knowledge. Wise to cheap tricks and wise enough to use them with deadly effectiveness.
- Shot-Caller: Serigan has an air of command and authority that he seems to carry with him everywhere he goes, even when unwarranted. This makes him a natural leader of gutter-scum who respect strength and cunning and intimidating to those not used to dealing with people not ready for the aggressive nature of the thug.
- Hard Knock Alma Mater: You don't crawl out of the sess pit of Ullarn alive without learning some things. Serigan might not have ever been to a school in his life but he knows how to spot an ambush by the nervous shuffles of impatient thugs. He can figure out the best way to bust into a shop with minimal effort and spot fake coins with ease. He couldn't tell you who painted what or what it means but he could point you to a good fence to sell it after you stole it if you wanted.
Personality:
Most people who grow up in the slums and factories of Ullarn are whipped dogs. They just mope from place to place and hope they get fed. Serigan is a different breed entirely. He saw what he wanted and he took it. With cunning, money, or force he took it. Serigan is the pinnacle of a man with more ambition than sense. Using his force of personality and size got him everything he wanted and this is still is go to method. Serigan often comes across as a bully or even cruel, yet, this is just the most effective tool he has always had. When intimidation fails he often becomes a much more amiable fellow. Serigan is and has always been one quick to laugh and find most jokes a riot. He clings to this sense of humor and a jovial nature with a death grip and this often gets him into trouble when his humor is inappropriate. The most valuable thing to the former gang leader is respect. He can tolerate nearly anything as long as the proper respect is paid. This goes both ways for Serigan. He was not the top of the food chain, even when he had his own crew behind him. He always knew there was a higher seat. Knew when to shut his mouth and where the kick backs were supposed to go. Violating this code of respect though reveals the merciless killer that all too often was seen on the streets. Disrespect is not tolerated and is repaid in blood. Maybe not just then, but, eventually everyone gets theirs. The wheel keeps turnin'.
Occupation before joining the guild: Gang Leader
Basic origin story:
Born to a bordering on meaningless family of factory workers just like every other person in Ullarn, Serigan, was just the fourth child in a long line of doomed kids. In the city there were only two choices for people like them; you get to be a slave in a factory; you get to be a slave to some gang leader. Neither of these options appealed to the rather large boy though. He figured that he had five brothers and they were all reasonably tough. Why not be their own gang? If you don't want to be splashed by piss on t'street bes'be t'one throwin', eh? They set their minds to seizing the territory around their home. Luckily, the gang that owned the little scrap of the city was a weak one. After recruiting all the cousins he could, the boys began their grand plan. they ran little scams here and there. They mugged who they could and stock piled the money they could. The boys were smart enough to throw the kick backs to the local gang without a single word of protest. That was, until they protested with everything they had. They stormed the hide out of the crew and fell on them in the way that only young men filled with fury and terror can. The place was ruined with blood and guts and standing soaked to his elbows in dark red stood the boy who had prompted all the others to take their fate into their hands, Serigan. He was fifteen years old.
The years that followed were hard and bloody. The boys turned into hard men and many of them turned into dead men. By the time Serigan was twenty five years old his gang was one of the most hated by the city authorities and power among the streets. He was privy to the meetings of many crime bosses and did what he could to gain their favor. He was just a small fish to these men of global power. they did not concern themselves with the pointless struggles of little gangs in the soot stained land they came from. Serigan, now Cuttah to his ilk, was not satisfied with this dynamic though. These powerful men should care what happens on the streets that raised them. They should the people like the gangs did. They should protect them, not just collect their black and gray market profits and run off to whatever nice city they actually lived in. He started a new plan. this plan was to be his last though. In the four years it took him to implement it his gang became far too visible. Not only did he find himself no longer invited to nice meetings of crime bosses but also was the target of harsh crack downs by the local authorities. In the space of a year Serigan found himself no longer on the top but with a high price on his head from both the normal folks who like to put bounties on heads, but, also on the hit lists of the crime bosses that he once wanted to be like. Serigan's walls closed in and a damp cell for the rest of his life was the best he could hope for. Just like he entered the stage, with flash and a bloodbath, he left it. He fled to the West. He ran until he couldn't run anymore. With little money and nowhere to go he found his answer. Turns out there was a guild for people like him. A guild for people with no skills aside from the kind that result in trips to the local hospital. Why not pop in and see if they just happen to need a strong arm to lift a sword? Maybe, just maybe, there would be room for advancement. |
43,572 | 1,194 | 28 | 989 | 495 | Location: The White Lily
The white lily remained silent for the first three out of the six days the adventurers were out on jobs. Everything moved smoothly and seamlessly as they often did in the quieter days when longer jobs were taken and more of the guild members were away. On the fourth day however Athena became anxious, as the group heading for the wolf assignment should have been back by then. With urgent demands to the guild master a small group of members who went volunteer only left to discover the whereabouts of the group who should have been back.
The guild was still and solemn during the this time, frantic looks were exchanged between older members and even Farmer Francis took the trip through the mountains to deliver their supply of food and brought no new, news of what had happened to the party. The afternoon of the sixth day rolled around when the members from the boar quest came through the front doors of the heavy hearted guild.
Athena
Athena's eyes shot up with a heart that fluttered and a glint in her eye as the doors parted presenting the group of boar hunters, blood stained, exhausted and all accounted for. The light burst through the door as her heart burst from her chest and she sprang forward to embrace each of the three members and congratulate them on their victory. ”Hagor will be so pleased with all this meat you've brought us.” Her voice shook and her eyes glistened as she spoke before she took each of their hands and placed them in hers ”I am thankful you are all safe, welcome home.”
Athenas voice was smooth and soft as ever though it still betrayed her hasted emotions. She looked closer at Mable, noticing the blood stained shirt over her shoulder where a slit could be seen revealing her broken skin. As her eyes surveyed the wound she saw the condition of Serigans leg and immediately called out to Hygiea to come over and take a look.
As he spoke and winked, Athena smiled at him, a small smile, one barely able to be seen as her lips barely curled up but, a smile all the same and nodded. She climbed the stairs towards the lounge, disappearing for a moment before reappearing carrying a chair and placing it behind Serigan, gently pushing his shoulders down so he'd be forced to sit. It was then that one of the three handed Athena a bound scroll addressed to the guild master. She glanced at it for a moment before rushing behind her counter and counting out coin.
Athena's face was flushed as she counted, nervously glancing at the scroll every few counts. At this point Hygiea was had already come into the room with a stool for Mable and was looking at her shoulder. ”Okay, ten boar means 6000 yule making it an even 2000 each.” This she mumbled to herself as she pulled out three coin purses and filled them with the amounts. The leather pouches were stuffed and sealed as she circled around her counter once again placing each pouch gently into the palm of each of the three members hands.
As the last pouch was placed the doors slammed open again as the group of members who had gone out to see what had become of the group taking on the wolf quest stormed in. Their faces were pale and tired with hurry, their hands were covered in a thick coating of dark blood and they too were carrying a scroll sealed and addressed to the guild master. ”Athena, you should come with us, we need to see the master at once.” Athena looked at them nervously. ”So the others, what..” her small voice died as the grief that bore on their face silenced her before one announced. ”Dead, all of them all but.” as they spoke, the small slow and sad patters of Alfies dog, Spat clicked on the wooden floor. The dog dropped in exhaustion, it's paw was cut and it's back was slashed. Hygiea looked over, she was now working on Serigan and nodded, rubbing the dogs stomach lightly with one hand as if to say, you're next before continuing her work.
Athena assessed the situation, nodded at the group and then picked up the letter she had just received and lead the way towards the guild masters chambers.
Hygiea
When the doors swung open and the group of three stumbled in, Hygiea's heart lifted and sank before lifting again noting that at least this group was back safe. She glanced back down and finished the remedy she had finally finished putting together before the call of her name by Athena pulled her attention back up again. Hygiea only needed that momentary glance before she understood the situation and grabbed her emergency kit and hurried her way over to the guilds entrance, grabbing a stool on her way over of Mable.
Though Pascal seemed only tired, Mable and Serigan looked rather worse for wear. Hygiea handed Pascal a small vial of strength potion to help reinvigorate him before beginning her work on Mable's shoulder. She tore the fabric on her shirt just a bit more to give her a better view of the injury. ”Sorry dear.” she said sympathetically. Hygiea pulled out a flask of liquid and a clothe from her kit. In a quick motion she flipped the lid on the flask and then tipped it over then clothe, pouring enough on it to make it damp. ”This may sting a little, I'll try to be gentle.” Her hands, although gentle rubbed the clothe over Mable's back to clean the wound. The liquid would send a searing pain through the wound as it cleaned it out. The solution was Hygiea's on concoction, a mix of alcohol and special herbs perfectly blended to quicken healing and clean out a wound. Though it would sting at first it had a warm and soothing after feeling that would last throughout the healing process, almost like an indicator to tell you when you were healed.
Hygiea put her palms on either side of Mable's shoulder, feeling where it had broken and sprained. She sighed then pulled a wrap up from her kit before ripping Mable's shirt even more to give her more room to work with placing the wrap in a correct position. She was careful not to reveal too much of Mable's bare flesh in front of everyone as she began to wrap her shoulder and upper arm, placing various herbs throughout the wrap. ”Give it a few days and it should be okay. If it begins hurting unbearably, I want you to come and see me at once.
Hygiea moved from Mable's shoulder to Serigan's leg as if almost mechanically. ”Now what do we have here?” she mumbled to herself as she examined the bandage. ”My these wrappings are very well done, if not for these your leg may not have been saved.” She glanced up at Serigan as she said this and smiled before beginning to unwrap the blood soaked wrap. Her hands were steady and her eyes were focused as she worked, gently pulling away each wrap from it's place and placing them next to the foot of the chair he was sitting in. She quickly grabbed another clothe and poured more of the liquid on the open wound and began cleaning it out. This wound being much worse in some sense then Mable's would take a little more liquid and work then the other had. ”Please parden the pain, I will try to be quick” she said, rubbing the clothe over the wound sending the pain through Serigan as he had done with Mable. This pain would last longer and run deeper as the wound was larger.
Hygiea waited for a moment for the soothing warmth to kick in before pulling out a needle and thread. She glanced up at Serigan again before pulling out what looked like some kind of clamp and wrapped it around his leg, forcing the wound closed. ”Now, it is imperative that you don't move.” She pulled out a flask of whiskey and handed it to him as it to say, you'll need this.
It was at this moment that the other group of adventurers stormed in conversing with Athena before the word,”Dead” was announced which struck Hygiea like a pile of bricks in the pit of her stomach. She glanced at the floor, tracing the ridges in the wood with her eyes for a moment taking in the situation for a moment, letting it take her for just that second before coming back to the task at hand before she had time to herself. Following the news came Spat who was also injured, no doubt trying to protect his master and friend. She rubbed him for a moment before turning back to Seriga's leg.
Now that everything was set, Hygiea began sowing shut the leg wound, stitching it back together with the help of the clamp that kept everything snug and in a straight line. She tried to work quickly but still wanted to be accurate in her stitching. The stitches looked like staples in his leg before she removed the clamp, ran the clothe over his leg again, pulling long thin sticks out of her bag and placing them around his leg to offer extra support before beginning to wrap his leg in the same fashion done with Mable's arm.
At the final wrap, Hygiea quickly stood signaling everyone to stay put before she ran back to get station picked up a few things and rushed back with her hands full of various objects. She handed Serigan something like a crutch before looking him in the eyes, ”I need you to use this for a few days, you can't move around much before the medicine sets in otherwise you could rip your stitches. Come see me in 3 days and I will look at your wound again.” She handed Mable and Serigan a vial of healing potion. ”Take it before you sleep tonight and will help.” She noddded at them all before reaching down and pulling the dog up in her arms, carrying him like a small child and disappearing behind the counter of her apothecary station.
Artemis
Artemis had just finished making Athena's necklace before the group on the boar quest strode in. She watched at listened to the commotion and on goings, sharpening a blade on her counter while her eyes flickered back and forth between her project and the group.
With the second group coming in and their announcement, Artemis picked up this sword she was sharpening at threw it against the line up of weaponry and armour. ”Fuck!” She yelled, over the clattering of metal smashing against the ground and scattering all over the floor. She picked up a helmet and threw it across the room ”Why? What could have prevented this?” Artemis's fury with the situation was evident and overwhelming. She glanced at Athena as she lead the way from the room heading towards the guild master. Artemis began passing back and forth from one end of the room to the other trying to calm down before she kicked the helmet she threw earlier across the room.
Hagor
Hagor lingered at the top of the stairs listening to the situation below and watching as it went on. She scrunched her legs closer and closer to her chest as each word was spoken, her excitement for the fresh meat quickly overtaken by the sadness of tragedy and loss. Three brave members of the guild had been lost, taken from them, all in the hopes of bringing peace to the lives of others.
When Athena came past her for the final time heading towards the guild master she rushed down the stairs stopping in front of the three guild members who were still there. ”Thank you for completing your mission, thank you for returning and thank you for the meat.” Her smile was a bit broken as she spoken in the higher tone that was her voice sounding obscure as it was usually filled with life and vigor. She looked at them all one by one before playfully putting her hands on her hips and winking. ”You get free food for at least two weeks for this treat!” She smiled again, larger and filled with more of the life she usually held behind it though her deep emotions, as the others before her grieved for the loss of their comrades. She looked over at Artimes, dropping her smile and showing a glint of moisture in her eyes before turning and ascending the stairs once again and going behind her counter where she would focus her energy on reworking the menu to include the new produce and meat they had just received.
Ares
Ares worked in his study, gathering notes for the upcoming comity meeting that was to take place the following day. His eyes shifted from page to page as the door to his study was briskly knocked on and opened before he had the opportunity to speak. The white hair and green eyes of Athena rushed into the room carrying a scroll followed by a singular adventurer from the group of volunteers that had gone in search of the missing members.
Ares stood from behind his desk, poised and steady then glanced from Athena to the member and back before stopping on the member. ”Speak.” His voice was deep and clear, nothing to misunderstand or misconstrue. The adventurer shifted in his steps, glancing at Athena who made no expression then back at Ares. He had never had a one on one conversation with Ares before and did not remember ever standing this close to him either. Ares gave him a stern look, causing him to straighten up and open his mouth to begin speaking. ”Yes, Sir.” he started, his voice shaking somewhat and drawn into an almost mumbel from his exhaustion. ”You see, Sir. The other members, Alfie Reid, Nihus Yorkek and Zhang LiangYing or Jane, they... they are dead Sir.” His voice shook at the having to say the word again, to be the one to bare the news. “When we arrived they had been slain but, you see Sir, the wolves were also all dead, all of em.” He motioned his hands as if to express a large amount. ”The members didn't seem to be slain from the wolves though Sir, they had weapon wounds and arrows from out from em. We buried them in the cemetery of Irbel before returning and discovered this scroll among their persons.” The member handed Ares the scroll which Ares took with a nod before the adventurer nodded at the master and excused himself from the room.
Ares held the scroll in his hands for a moment before opening it and running his eyes across the page, reading it quickly and carefully. His face expressed no emotion or indication of what the scroll would entail before he looked up at Athena and held out his hand to receive the other scroll. ”From the adventurers who took the boar quest.” Ares nodded quickly as he took the scroll and read it as he did the first one.
”Athena, I'd like you to put these notices on the board.” Ares quickly went to his desk and scribbled a note on a piece of paper. He pulled up the paper and handed it to Athena as he gathered his notes for the comity, grabbed the scrolls and head towards his quarter door. ”I am leaving at once. You know what to do.
Athena firmly nodded at him as he disappeared behind the door and quickly made his way through the guild, passing everyone swiftly without giving them a glance. He exited the guild, mounted his black stead and rode in a fury through the darkening valley of the mountians. | Name: Ares (Are-Es)
Age: 53
Height: 6' 4" or 193cm
Build: Somewhat slender and tall
Weapon of choice: One medium length sword and throwing knives
Basic Skills: Extremely persuasive in matters of importance, nimble and an expert level swordsman.
Personality: Does not often strike up a conversation unless something important is to be discussed. He won't turn you away and will listen intently of all matters brought to his attention but is usually deep in thought on matters of importance brought up by the comity.
Occupation before joining the guild: Draykon Mercenary
Basic origin story: Worked for the Draykon comity for many years as a mercenary until he began exploring the mountains or Irbel and discovered the ruins of an ancient landmark, almost like a throne room of some kind. He pulled together some of the lower ranking mercenaries and built what is now the guild. After discussing the prospect of the guild to the comity it was approved immediately with the condition that Ares become an adviser to the comity and report any suspicious on goings to them.
NPCs:
The Administrator
Athena is the Administrator. She is the person who receives a missions before posting them on the notice board. When picking up, turning in, or collecting a reward on a mission, she is the one you need to talk to. You would also speak to her about additional details on a mission if you feel you need them. She is quiet and soft spoken most of the time but will always be sure your questions are answered.
The Blacksmith or Weapons and Armour Master
Artemis is stubborn and hard headed but, she is the best blacksmith in all of Draykon. She'll get on you if your not routinely getting your weapons and armour checked out for defects or tune-ups. She worked for the mercenaries of Draykon before they became the guild.
The Apothecary
Hygiea is a very skilled and wise apothecary. She may be an older woman but her knowledge of the art of herb mixtures and potion making is seemingly second to none. She is very humble and gracious often wishing adventures well off as they leave for missions.
The Bartender
Hathor is eccentric and lively. She was once an adventurer as well but found she enjoyed the food and drink more then the adventuring. Now she works the lounge giving energy and enthusiasm to the room. Hathor is extremely flirtatious if you get her talking for too long but it is mostly all in good humour. |
43,573 | 1,194 | 29 | 1,508 | 484 | Mable smiled tense as the potion was poured into her wound. Instead of concentrating on the burns she gently removed a mission from the wall sighing out in pain. It was a start the trip would be long enough that Mable could heal. The boars had taught her that she needed better equipment. A groan escaped her as Mable stood picking up her gold gratefully. The arm still stung, but she could get along fine without it. The first thing Mable needed was some water and meat. Mable sat gently in her chair her equipment in tatters before instead standing up.
Mable headed in to see Artemis. Mable laid a gentle hand on her shoulder knowing how upset the woman would be. Artemis didn't let on much, but Mable knew the deaths had shocked her. It had been a very long time since the guild had lost so many on a mission. Mable smiled giving Artemis the time she would need to recover her composure before asking in a very calm voice. "If it's okay and not to soon I'd like to ask for repairs to my shield and sword. I also have the money for a bow and arrows. I'd also like to buy some medium armor for my mission this after noon. It shouldn't be to dangerous, but I want to be prepared." | Name: Mable of Orstwych
Appearance: A young woman with cold blue eyes and red hair. A worn reinforced leather armor wrapped around her.
Age: 22
Height: 5'8
Build: Muscled but plump
Weapon of choice: A longsword and shield with two throwing knives.
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 2205 Yule
Current items in possession: A weeks rations, Reinforced leather armor, An iron shield, two iron daggers, and a iron long sword.
Basic Skills: Basic Tracking, mild resistance to cold temperatures, and basic equipment repairs
Personality: Mable is brave but also aggressive almost to a fault. She will rarely refuse a challenge but values a fair fight. Mable is smart, but impatient refusing to plan more then her next four moves when considering an attack. IT should be said however that her main trait is fearsome loyalty to those she calls her friends willing to ride into any danger to protect them.
Occupation before joining the guild: Wandering mercenary
Basic origin story: Mable was a simple woman at first. She lived in her camp with her husband. Mable often would hunt clubbing enemies to death with her wood club and shield. Mable had been married at fifteen to her beloved and they spent four happy years together. The forth year however while Mable was hunting her mate went to the council. He made claims that she was barren so they granted him a second wife. In a month the new wife was great with child. Mable was repaid for her years of affection by betrayal.
In her rage Mable beat her husband to death before fleeing into the snowy wastes. A long time later when Mable was starving she accepted the offer of a mercenary band. They quickly discovered her ferocity as she beat individuals to death with her club. When it shattered Mable took up the sword. One dark night her allies betrayed her trying to sell her as a slave on the black market. Mable killed her once allies and headed west alone seeking there fabled lands. Upon hearing of the guild decided she'd seek out a family in the guild having heard they were loyal souls. |
43,574 | 1,194 | 30 | 285 | 266 | Oh, ain't'y'just sweet. Serigan said giving the old healer a flirtatious grin as she stared to unwrap his wound. The pain was bad, ut, he was used to it."Now, Ol'Cuttah ain't 'bout t'just scream his-" he was cut off by the sudden presence of the balm that she had used to clean the wounds. She had warned him that it would hurt. He had honestly just thought nothing of it. Getting healed up always hurt some. It was like fighting, you often had to suffer a bit to get what you wanted. She really did underplay the pain though. Serigan flew into a sting of curses so profane that if there was a concord of rival priest within earshot every single one of them would have been offended in turn. The words that came from Serigan's mouth would become the new standard for exactly what children should never say in the presence of polite company. Many curses that most folk considered foul were written off as just something silly and their slots were taken by the Virtuoso-like cursing incantations uttered by the former gang leader. "...Gods wit a face-full of centaur splash! Doncha know yer supposed t'give a man a drink 'fore you give'em a pain they'll have scream yer name for?" as he finished the woman handed him a flask of whiskey and he gave her a smile with eyes shining with pain, "Thas'more like it." he drained the flask in a few quick gulps, hoping to speed up the painkilling process the fine drink would give him soon.
Serigan returned to grinning while the older healer stitched him up. "Y'got s'm'kinna skill th'r, Ol'Killie. Qui'k'cher 'ands 'yare. E'r thou'cha b'out turnin' th's'fin'ers t'evil?" he asked slurring his words even more from the strong drink. Also, finding the older woman quite the fetching lady in general. Of course, Serigan found most people rather fetching but right now she was sewing him up and has his full attention. He pet the poor injured dog by his chair as he was worked on, muttering a few condolences to the dog. They were impossible to understand by people let alone an animal. He wished the dog well as it was carried away from him, his words the kind of thing a cryptologist would have drooled over to decode.
Soon enough, Serigan found himself in the main hall of the Guild with a crutch in one hand and his cane in the other. He now at least had a chair to sit in and it was close to the pretty lady who paid him. Ah, he did like it when the people who gave you money were nice to look at. He tapped his cane on the ground in a poor imitation of a beat he had heard in a song some time ago. His buzzed mind was trying desperately to understand why exactly people were so sad. He thought it had something to do with the hurt dog and the man who was with him. He thought he remembered that man being blind. Wait, had that group died? Yes, they had. That was what the people who came in earlier had said. Then Athena had ran off to go see Ares, the the spooky looking man had come down the steps. It was the first time Serigan had seen him. He had saluted to the man with his cane and bid him his condolences but the man was gone as quickly as he arrived. Serigan leaned his head back in the chair and sighed. This was going to be very boring. He probably shouldn't be thinking about how boring things might be when there seemed to be an aura of mourning around the whole place and all the people in it, but, he couldn't help himself. He hated being being bored. Being bored was just about as bad as death really. He had plenty of people around him die, hell, just about all of them so far. He had gotten used to death long ago.
When Athena returned he gave her a salute with his cane and smile, "Sorry'bout all'thus bissus, m'love. Is'a sad day i'tiss. M'eart goes t'ya dear. Tel'oo what. Ol'Cuttah knows y'sad, an'ee thinks y'might need a'ug?" Serigan opened his arms to her for an embrace. "Y'll 'ave t'c'm t'me though. Ol'Cuttah can't walk. Doc's orders." | Name: Serigan "Cutter"
Appearance:
Life in the choking streets of Ullarn is a hard one and it makes all men hard, or dead. Serigan has the look of a man who has perhaps done and seen a few too many things. His dark blue eyes seem to just kind of stare into the distance when not focused on a single task. Little to no access to a proper barber, aside from the one 'snipper' you might have in your gang, gives Serigan's long-ish brown hair an unkempt mane-like quality that he deals with simply pushing it as far back as he can each morning and hoping for the best. His facial hair follows a similar philosophy to that of his hair. It is cut into a manageable shape but not as well groomed as it should be. He has a short beard that wraps the entire lower half of the thug's face in an, almost, ruggedly handsome fur. A small scar about and inch long rests on his left check leaving a thin strip of beard missing. His lips are marked by a number of small scars from where they have been busted and his nose is ever so slightly crooked, suffering the same fate as his lips. The thug's body is a much more impressive thing than the poorly kept head that sits atop it. He has massively broad shoulders set with the hard muscle of one accustomed to swinging heavy objects into other men's heads. His legs and arms are long and lithe, a body almost made for 'busting'. The thick, scarred, and vice-like hands that sit on the ends of long arms tell their own story of back alley brawls and one too many men strangled. Serigan covers his body with style only a bombastic gang leader can. He wears a number of layers of fine clothes that have been treated poorly. Each article of clothing speaks a tale of a man with enough money for nice clothing but not enough refinement to know what to do with them. The whole ensemble is covered by a thick, once white, fur lined and collar buff-coat. This is belted at the waist with a rugged sword belt slung with a couple daggers, a coin purse, and a set of dussack & buckler.
Age: 30
Height: 6'4"
Build: Hard lithe muscle set into the massive frame of a street thug.
Weapon of choice: Dussack & buckler
Amount of Yule currently in possession: 40
Current items in possession:
Dussack (Functions as a basic sword), buckler (small hand held shield designed for close fighting and good for little else), Three daggers (One to see, one to find, one to keep), a basic traveling pack (Tent, water skin, flint & Steel, 30' of hemp rope, bed roll), Swagger-stick (Thick wooden cane set with a heavy brass covered iron head), Buff-coat (His coat is a thick padded piece of armor that is made to still look street-stylish. It provides light armor for his torso, legs, and arms)
Basic Skills:
- Back Alley Fighting: Skilled at quick and dirty brawling the soot stained streets of Ullarn. Fighting with sword & shield, daggers, clubs, canes, and his bare hands but with little training and no experience with more impressive and rich weapons. What he lacks in training though he makes up for in practical knowledge. Wise to cheap tricks and wise enough to use them with deadly effectiveness.
- Shot-Caller: Serigan has an air of command and authority that he seems to carry with him everywhere he goes, even when unwarranted. This makes him a natural leader of gutter-scum who respect strength and cunning and intimidating to those not used to dealing with people not ready for the aggressive nature of the thug.
- Hard Knock Alma Mater: You don't crawl out of the sess pit of Ullarn alive without learning some things. Serigan might not have ever been to a school in his life but he knows how to spot an ambush by the nervous shuffles of impatient thugs. He can figure out the best way to bust into a shop with minimal effort and spot fake coins with ease. He couldn't tell you who painted what or what it means but he could point you to a good fence to sell it after you stole it if you wanted.
Personality:
Most people who grow up in the slums and factories of Ullarn are whipped dogs. They just mope from place to place and hope they get fed. Serigan is a different breed entirely. He saw what he wanted and he took it. With cunning, money, or force he took it. Serigan is the pinnacle of a man with more ambition than sense. Using his force of personality and size got him everything he wanted and this is still is go to method. Serigan often comes across as a bully or even cruel, yet, this is just the most effective tool he has always had. When intimidation fails he often becomes a much more amiable fellow. Serigan is and has always been one quick to laugh and find most jokes a riot. He clings to this sense of humor and a jovial nature with a death grip and this often gets him into trouble when his humor is inappropriate. The most valuable thing to the former gang leader is respect. He can tolerate nearly anything as long as the proper respect is paid. This goes both ways for Serigan. He was not the top of the food chain, even when he had his own crew behind him. He always knew there was a higher seat. Knew when to shut his mouth and where the kick backs were supposed to go. Violating this code of respect though reveals the merciless killer that all too often was seen on the streets. Disrespect is not tolerated and is repaid in blood. Maybe not just then, but, eventually everyone gets theirs. The wheel keeps turnin'.
Occupation before joining the guild: Gang Leader
Basic origin story:
Born to a bordering on meaningless family of factory workers just like every other person in Ullarn, Serigan, was just the fourth child in a long line of doomed kids. In the city there were only two choices for people like them; you get to be a slave in a factory; you get to be a slave to some gang leader. Neither of these options appealed to the rather large boy though. He figured that he had five brothers and they were all reasonably tough. Why not be their own gang? If you don't want to be splashed by piss on t'street bes'be t'one throwin', eh? They set their minds to seizing the territory around their home. Luckily, the gang that owned the little scrap of the city was a weak one. After recruiting all the cousins he could, the boys began their grand plan. they ran little scams here and there. They mugged who they could and stock piled the money they could. The boys were smart enough to throw the kick backs to the local gang without a single word of protest. That was, until they protested with everything they had. They stormed the hide out of the crew and fell on them in the way that only young men filled with fury and terror can. The place was ruined with blood and guts and standing soaked to his elbows in dark red stood the boy who had prompted all the others to take their fate into their hands, Serigan. He was fifteen years old.
The years that followed were hard and bloody. The boys turned into hard men and many of them turned into dead men. By the time Serigan was twenty five years old his gang was one of the most hated by the city authorities and power among the streets. He was privy to the meetings of many crime bosses and did what he could to gain their favor. He was just a small fish to these men of global power. they did not concern themselves with the pointless struggles of little gangs in the soot stained land they came from. Serigan, now Cuttah to his ilk, was not satisfied with this dynamic though. These powerful men should care what happens on the streets that raised them. They should the people like the gangs did. They should protect them, not just collect their black and gray market profits and run off to whatever nice city they actually lived in. He started a new plan. this plan was to be his last though. In the four years it took him to implement it his gang became far too visible. Not only did he find himself no longer invited to nice meetings of crime bosses but also was the target of harsh crack downs by the local authorities. In the space of a year Serigan found himself no longer on the top but with a high price on his head from both the normal folks who like to put bounties on heads, but, also on the hit lists of the crime bosses that he once wanted to be like. Serigan's walls closed in and a damp cell for the rest of his life was the best he could hope for. Just like he entered the stage, with flash and a bloodbath, he left it. He fled to the West. He ran until he couldn't run anymore. With little money and nowhere to go he found his answer. Turns out there was a guild for people like him. A guild for people with no skills aside from the kind that result in trips to the local hospital. Why not pop in and see if they just happen to need a strong arm to lift a sword? Maybe, just maybe, there would be room for advancement. |
43,575 | 1,195 | 0 | 84 | 423 | See OOC tab for details.
Sunday, the morning after the crash
The town hall was as packed with as many people as a small town like Startere could muster, all insisting to know what happened and brandishing telescopes and newspapers and other assorted things that didn't really have anything to do with the topic at hand. The excitement was building upon itself, causing the crowd to surge and intensify as time went on and even more rumors started flying around. With a little effort, the mayor managed to squeeze through the admittedly quite small crowd to stand behind the short podium at the front of the hall. After banging a comedically-oversized gavel on the podium a few times with no success at calming the really small and actually quite orderly crowd, he had Johnson, Startere's only police officer (who incidentally was also self-appointed), shout into a megaphone to get everyone's attention.
"HEY! EVERYONE LOOK UP HERE AND YOUR QUESTIONS WILL BE ANSWERED!" The megaphone screamed mechanically with every other word and everyone in the building stopped and covered their ears and some screamed.
"Thank you, Johnson." The diminutive mayor cleared his throat and continued, his bushy white moustache shuffling as he spoke, "Fair citizens, over the past few weeks, we have all seen the bright lights flying over our town. And if you haven't seen it, you've surely heard it! I can't imagine how anyone could sleep through that blasted whooshing and whirring and buzzing."
This comment was met with nods and murmurs of agreement throughout the crowd.
"Last night, I decided that enough was enough, so I took matters into my own hands and shot the damned thing down, whatever it was. So today, we are putting together a task force to go investigate the crash."
At this, the crowd started bubbling with activity again as everyone started talking about seeing what that thing was and "giving it a piece of their mind" and such comments. Johnson shouted into the megaphone again and everyone stopped talking again.
The extremely short mayor continued talking. "We are looking for volunteers to come and help us figure out--" The crowd exploded again with statements like "I'll go!" and "Take me!", cutting off the mayor. For a third time, Johnson shouted into the megaphone, the squeals of which were again more effective than Johnson's shouting.
The tiny mayor (who really could easily have been confused for a child if it wasn't for his white hair and wrinkles, I mean come on) continued again, more urgently this time.
"Please know, we don't know what this thing is, so it could be dangerous! We need any volunteers to know this and be willing to charge headlong into danger nonetheless!" A slight, uneasy silence gripped the crowd. "So those who are willing to risk their lives for the sake of curiosity, please come forward and we'll figure out a plan!"
Only three men came forward: Ronnie the general store owner, a gangly man with patchy stubble and a hammer looped into his gray canvas apron; Stewart, Harry's grandfather, a wrinkly old gentleman in a fancy-but-old-fashioned suit; and Hans, the gigantic foreign body builder who nobody knows how he ended up in Startere but who helps with construction and other heavy lifting jobs.
Ronnie
Quality: Orderly
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Hammers
Skills:
Deep Pockets: A passive skill that allows Ronnie to hold twice as many items as normal.
Cheer: Encourages the whole party, doubling each member's Guts.
Flee!: Escape a fight without fail.
Stats:
Speed: 3
Strength: 2
Guts: 0
Wits: 3
Friendliness: 10
Generosity: 8
Pockets (32 items total) (stacked for convenience only)
Candy Piece x16
Granola Bar x6
Sandwich x6
Mallet (Equipped)
Apron (Equipped)
Stewart
Quality: Uptight
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: N/A
Pockets (8 items total) (stacked for convenience only)
Peppermint x2
Pocketwatch (Equipped)
Monocle (Equipped)
Tacky Suit (Equipped)
Brass Key
Hans
Quality: Hulking, Dim-witted
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Fists
Skills:
Throw: Pick up anything and throw it at anything else. In battle, the size of the thrown thing influences the amount of damage done.
Flex: Increases Strength but decreases Speed.
Suplex: Slam an enemy into the ground, dealing heavy damage. Has a low success rate.
Stats:
Speed: 1
Strength: 10
Guts: 10
Wits: 0
Manliness: 11
Pockets No pockets. Hans only wears a speedo at all times.
"Oh, and you two, Isaac and Harry. You come, too! You two youngsters are the oldest youngsters in town, and you need to learn how to become men. So you'll be coming with us!" Stewart piped up, pointing at the boys as the crowd dispersed around them. | Name: <example: Ness>
Quality: <example: Determined>
Description: <example: you don't need an example for this one>
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: <example: sports equipment>
Skills: <example:
PK Flash: Blinds the enemy with a bright light of PSI energy!
PK Fire: Burns enemies within a small area of effect.
PK Heal: Removes status effects from a party member.
>
Stats: <this is where you allocate your stat points! You'll earn more stat points for specific stats as you fight.>
Speed: 4 (influences your turn in a fight and how fast you can avoid things outside of battle)
Strength: 1 (influences how much damage your attacks do and how much you can lift outside of battle)
Guts: 2 (influences how many hits you can take and how long you can stay alive)
Wits: 3 (influences how perceptive you are (how much information you can gather from a certain situation), i.e. how an enemy is described so you can find a weak spot or if you can find a hidden trapdoor)
<custom stats here>
Pockets (16 items max):
<example:
Sandwich
Baseball Bat (equipped)
Baseball Cap (equipped)
Odd Key
> |
43,576 | 1,195 | 1 | 1,417 | 1,336 | Isaac yawned, sleepy and slightly bored. He had been called on to investigate the crash that occurred when the mayor shot some mysterious bright lights in the sky. In all honesty, that was a stupid move. What kind of person tries to shoot down something that flies, glows and makes weird noises? It even crashed and a fiery explosion was what they got. Granted, the noise was annoying, but still, this wasn't how Isaac wanted to spend his Sunday.
Isaac checked his pockets. When he had gone outside for the meeting, he secretly took some knives from the kitchen, just in case something like this happened. Next, there was a teddy bear, and a marshmallow he had planned on eating. Well, he wouldn't have to pull out his knives unless anything bad happened, and he didn't really need the other things.
The other person called on to help was Harry, a boy 1 year younger than Isaac. Isaac knew Harry, and he was an alright person. He hadn't really talked to him that much, but Isaac didn't talk to many people that much anyway. The more the merrier, though. Right?
If it was up to Isaac, he wouldn't have been at the meeting or whatever, but this expedition was for peace. And for peace... Isaac would do anything. | Name: Isaac Ferum
Quality: Deceptively dangerous
Description: Isaac has pale blue hair and is tall for his age. He’s 15 years old and 180 cm tall. Isaac normally relaxes pretty much anywhere, giving off a sleepy demeanour. He loves his family and dotes on his younger sister a lot. He’s normally very docile, but when something threatens his idyllic lifestyle, his demeanour changes into that of a serial killer, willing to do anything to preserve his lifestyle. He keeps his psychic powers secret, because he wouldn’t know what would happen to his life if he revealed them.
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Sharp weapons.
Skills:
1. Mind attack: Deals damage and confuses the foe
2. Telekinesis: Move objects with the mind
3. Weapon barrage: Uses telekinesis to make the weapons in Isaac’s inventory float and strike the enemy. May hit multiple targets.
Stats:
- Speed: 3
- Strength: 1
- Guts: 1
- Wits: 3
- Laid-backness: 0
- Bloodlust: 2
Pockets (8/16):
- Small kitchen knife
- Large kitchen knife
- Teddy bear
- Marshmallow
- Bottle of water
- Vacuum sealed container with seed in it
- Strong hunting knife (equipped)
- Weird megaphone |
43,577 | 1,195 | 2 | 2,402 | 236 | Eh? Harry raised an eyebrow as his grandpa demanded he join the investigation. "I'll go, old man. But do you have some loose screws in your head? It's way too risky for you." Harry didn't want to risk his grandfather getting injured on the trip, even if he did show his concern in a disrespectful manner. Besides, who knows what those lights could've been? Harry tipped down his hat enough to cover his hat. He had developed this habit with the belief that it would make him seem way cooler, but it kind of made him look a bit dorky. "Maybe you should just sit this one out, gramps." While his grandfather wasn't one to give up so easy, but it was worth a shot.
Harry glanced at Isaac. He thought that the older boy was okay, albeit a bit of a wallflower in his opinion. They had never really hung out all that much, but he knew that Isaac was pretty loving of his family. He inspected his own supplies for the trips. All he had in his overalls was a stick and a couple of treats for the trip. While the stick wasn't all that great, it was the only thing he could find. Admittedly, Harry himself was very curious to find out what had actually crashed off in the distance and likely would've volunteered on his own either way. Although, couldn't help but feel as if his supplies were a bit weak, but they would have to do for now. | Name: Harry
Quality: Relaxed
Description: Harry 14 years old and is five feet and seven inches in height. His body is skinny but still has a bit of muscle. He wears blue overalls and wears a striped t-shirt underneath. His hair is short and curly. On his hands, he wears brown gloves made of leather. He usually wears a straw hat to keep the desert sun off his eyes. He has very bushy eyebrows.
Harry isn't likely to take people very seriously. At times, he can be very skeptical and untrusting of other people. He is very confident in his skills, yet is the sort of person that just goes with the flow. Only danger can snap him out of this casual mood. He doesn't care too much for rules and is very fond of exploration. He loves his grandfather, but he doesn't really respect the old man. He doesn't care about the authorities very much and ignores his grandfather's attempts to make him a gentleman.
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Staffs/sticks
Skills:
LifeUp α: Heals an ally by a slight amount.
Healing α: Cures sleepiness, sunstroke, or cold.
Telepathy: Allows him to speak to animals and other non-human life forms.
Stats:
Speed: 2
Strength: 3
Guts: 2
Wits: 4
Sophistication: 1
Pockets:
Weird Poster
Sandwich
Straw-hat (equipped)
Stick (equipped)
Cookie
Cookie
Binder
Seeds
Spade
Trowel
Small jug of liquid
Green Thumb Ring (equipped) |
43,578 | 1,195 | 3 | 84 | 423 | Harry, remember what I've told you: a gentleman never runs from a challenge! And you, my boy, shall become a gentleman if it takes me the rest of my life! Stewart replied hautily, sticking his nose in the air.
And so, the party headed south, following the now-thin line of smoke that had been a billowing plume just hours ago. After passing the last few buildings in town (a dilapidated old house painted with ugly yellow paint, broken, boarded-up windows, and no visible door and an old gold trading outpost with a sign that read "Gold for your gold!"--nobody ever really knew what to make of that sign), they could see that the crash was about 2 miles away thanks to the utter flatness of the desert.
Cacti dotted the path to the wreckage, and a few mangy coyotes and vultures could be seen wandering around aimlessly. As they walked, one of the cacti started moving its "arms", uprooted itself and started running toward the group at an alarming pace! | Name: <example: Ness>
Quality: <example: Determined>
Description: <example: you don't need an example for this one>
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: <example: sports equipment>
Skills: <example:
PK Flash: Blinds the enemy with a bright light of PSI energy!
PK Fire: Burns enemies within a small area of effect.
PK Heal: Removes status effects from a party member.
>
Stats: <this is where you allocate your stat points! You'll earn more stat points for specific stats as you fight.>
Speed: 4 (influences your turn in a fight and how fast you can avoid things outside of battle)
Strength: 1 (influences how much damage your attacks do and how much you can lift outside of battle)
Guts: 2 (influences how many hits you can take and how long you can stay alive)
Wits: 3 (influences how perceptive you are (how much information you can gather from a certain situation), i.e. how an enemy is described so you can find a weak spot or if you can find a hidden trapdoor)
<custom stats here>
Pockets (16 items max):
<example:
Sandwich
Baseball Bat (equipped)
Baseball Cap (equipped)
Odd Key
> |
43,579 | 1,195 | 4 | 84 | 423 | Battle Start!
Name: Panicked Cactus
Stats:
Speed: 1
Strength: 2
Guts: 0
Wits: 0
Pointiness: 5
Move Order
1. Isaac
2. Ronnie
3. Harry
4. Panicked Cactus
5. Hans
6. Stewart
Dice for Action Checks | Name: <example: Ness>
Quality: <example: Determined>
Description: <example: you don't need an example for this one>
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: <example: sports equipment>
Skills: <example:
PK Flash: Blinds the enemy with a bright light of PSI energy!
PK Fire: Burns enemies within a small area of effect.
PK Heal: Removes status effects from a party member.
>
Stats: <this is where you allocate your stat points! You'll earn more stat points for specific stats as you fight.>
Speed: 4 (influences your turn in a fight and how fast you can avoid things outside of battle)
Strength: 1 (influences how much damage your attacks do and how much you can lift outside of battle)
Guts: 2 (influences how many hits you can take and how long you can stay alive)
Wits: 3 (influences how perceptive you are (how much information you can gather from a certain situation), i.e. how an enemy is described so you can find a weak spot or if you can find a hidden trapdoor)
<custom stats here>
Pockets (16 items max):
<example:
Sandwich
Baseball Bat (equipped)
Baseball Cap (equipped)
Odd Key
> |
43,580 | 1,195 | 5 | 1,417 | 1,336 | As the cactus ran towards the group, Isaac ran ahead, drawing the larger one of his 2 knives.
"Cactus incoming!" Isaac yelled.
Isaac sliced at the cactus, wary of its spikes . The knife was large enough to put distance between Isaac's hand and the cactus spikes, but it was too short to do great harm. Regardless, his knife drew blood, or whatever a cactus had for blood. It was clear that he hadn't done much, however.
Isaac jumped back, hopefully out of reach of the now living cactus. | Name: Isaac Ferum
Quality: Deceptively dangerous
Description: Isaac has pale blue hair and is tall for his age. He’s 15 years old and 180 cm tall. Isaac normally relaxes pretty much anywhere, giving off a sleepy demeanour. He loves his family and dotes on his younger sister a lot. He’s normally very docile, but when something threatens his idyllic lifestyle, his demeanour changes into that of a serial killer, willing to do anything to preserve his lifestyle. He keeps his psychic powers secret, because he wouldn’t know what would happen to his life if he revealed them.
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Sharp weapons.
Skills:
1. Mind attack: Deals damage and confuses the foe
2. Telekinesis: Move objects with the mind
3. Weapon barrage: Uses telekinesis to make the weapons in Isaac’s inventory float and strike the enemy. May hit multiple targets.
Stats:
- Speed: 3
- Strength: 1
- Guts: 1
- Wits: 3
- Laid-backness: 0
- Bloodlust: 2
Pockets (8/16):
- Small kitchen knife
- Large kitchen knife
- Teddy bear
- Marshmallow
- Bottle of water
- Vacuum sealed container with seed in it
- Strong hunting knife (equipped)
- Weird megaphone |
43,581 | 1,195 | 6 | 84 | 423 | Ronnie tried to befriend the cactus by introducing himself. The cactus did not seem to notice his outstretched hand as inviting a handshake and instead pricked Ronnie.
Ronnie yelped in pain. | Name: <example: Ness>
Quality: <example: Determined>
Description: <example: you don't need an example for this one>
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: <example: sports equipment>
Skills: <example:
PK Flash: Blinds the enemy with a bright light of PSI energy!
PK Fire: Burns enemies within a small area of effect.
PK Heal: Removes status effects from a party member.
>
Stats: <this is where you allocate your stat points! You'll earn more stat points for specific stats as you fight.>
Speed: 4 (influences your turn in a fight and how fast you can avoid things outside of battle)
Strength: 1 (influences how much damage your attacks do and how much you can lift outside of battle)
Guts: 2 (influences how many hits you can take and how long you can stay alive)
Wits: 3 (influences how perceptive you are (how much information you can gather from a certain situation), i.e. how an enemy is described so you can find a weak spot or if you can find a hidden trapdoor)
<custom stats here>
Pockets (16 items max):
<example:
Sandwich
Baseball Bat (equipped)
Baseball Cap (equipped)
Odd Key
> |
43,582 | 1,195 | 7 | 2,402 | 236 | Harry tried beating the panicked cactus with his stick! Harry misses the cactus! | Name: Harry
Quality: Relaxed
Description: Harry 14 years old and is five feet and seven inches in height. His body is skinny but still has a bit of muscle. He wears blue overalls and wears a striped t-shirt underneath. His hair is short and curly. On his hands, he wears brown gloves made of leather. He usually wears a straw hat to keep the desert sun off his eyes. He has very bushy eyebrows.
Harry isn't likely to take people very seriously. At times, he can be very skeptical and untrusting of other people. He is very confident in his skills, yet is the sort of person that just goes with the flow. Only danger can snap him out of this casual mood. He doesn't care too much for rules and is very fond of exploration. He loves his grandfather, but he doesn't really respect the old man. He doesn't care about the authorities very much and ignores his grandfather's attempts to make him a gentleman.
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Staffs/sticks
Skills:
LifeUp α: Heals an ally by a slight amount.
Healing α: Cures sleepiness, sunstroke, or cold.
Telepathy: Allows him to speak to animals and other non-human life forms.
Stats:
Speed: 2
Strength: 3
Guts: 2
Wits: 4
Sophistication: 1
Pockets:
Weird Poster
Sandwich
Straw-hat (equipped)
Stick (equipped)
Cookie
Cookie
Binder
Seeds
Spade
Trowel
Small jug of liquid
Green Thumb Ring (equipped) |
43,583 | 1,195 | 8 | 84 | 423 | The Panicked Cactus flailed wildly and fell over in Harry's direction. SMAAAAAASH! The Panicked Cactus connects, landing directly on top of Harry, leaving cactus spikes all over him.
Hans went to Throw the Panicked Cactus off of Harry. Without much effort, Hans lifts the cactus and throws it a few yards, where it lands with a thud.
Stewart, at the sight of his grandson being pummeled, shouted, "Come now, Harry, old sport! Let's not let this stop us! Stand up!", tossing Harry a Peppermint and retreating behind Hans' massive frame. The Peppermint is cool and refreshing, and it numbs some of the pain from the cactus spikes protruding from Harry's body. | Name: <example: Ness>
Quality: <example: Determined>
Description: <example: you don't need an example for this one>
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: <example: sports equipment>
Skills: <example:
PK Flash: Blinds the enemy with a bright light of PSI energy!
PK Fire: Burns enemies within a small area of effect.
PK Heal: Removes status effects from a party member.
>
Stats: <this is where you allocate your stat points! You'll earn more stat points for specific stats as you fight.>
Speed: 4 (influences your turn in a fight and how fast you can avoid things outside of battle)
Strength: 1 (influences how much damage your attacks do and how much you can lift outside of battle)
Guts: 2 (influences how many hits you can take and how long you can stay alive)
Wits: 3 (influences how perceptive you are (how much information you can gather from a certain situation), i.e. how an enemy is described so you can find a weak spot or if you can find a hidden trapdoor)
<custom stats here>
Pockets (16 items max):
<example:
Sandwich
Baseball Bat (equipped)
Baseball Cap (equipped)
Odd Key
> |
43,584 | 1,195 | 9 | 1,417 | 1,336 | It's stupid. Isaac thought. But it's alive...
The living cactus didn't seem all that smart. Even an animal would run away from the superior numbers. But if it was alive, then it could be killed...
Isaac jumped at the cactus, bringing down his knife for a downward slashing strike.
His knife finds it's mark as Isaac goes down, tearing a large gash into the cactus. Isaac landed and jumped back. Stupid as the cactus was, it could still dish out some pain, as proven by the unfortunate Harry. He wouldn't appreciate cactus spikes sticking into his flesh. | Name: Isaac Ferum
Quality: Deceptively dangerous
Description: Isaac has pale blue hair and is tall for his age. He’s 15 years old and 180 cm tall. Isaac normally relaxes pretty much anywhere, giving off a sleepy demeanour. He loves his family and dotes on his younger sister a lot. He’s normally very docile, but when something threatens his idyllic lifestyle, his demeanour changes into that of a serial killer, willing to do anything to preserve his lifestyle. He keeps his psychic powers secret, because he wouldn’t know what would happen to his life if he revealed them.
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Sharp weapons.
Skills:
1. Mind attack: Deals damage and confuses the foe
2. Telekinesis: Move objects with the mind
3. Weapon barrage: Uses telekinesis to make the weapons in Isaac’s inventory float and strike the enemy. May hit multiple targets.
Stats:
- Speed: 3
- Strength: 1
- Guts: 1
- Wits: 3
- Laid-backness: 0
- Bloodlust: 2
Pockets (8/16):
- Small kitchen knife
- Large kitchen knife
- Teddy bear
- Marshmallow
- Bottle of water
- Vacuum sealed container with seed in it
- Strong hunting knife (equipped)
- Weird megaphone |
43,585 | 1,195 | 10 | 84 | 423 | That wasn't very nice at all! Ronnie shouted, pulling out his hammer and rearing back to prepare a strong swing.
SMAAAAAASH!! Ronnie's hammer knocked off one of the Panicked Cactus's arms, severing it where one of Isaac's knives had previously cut! The Panicked Cactus seemed hollow inside, but it kept running around, though a little slower and still silently flailing its remaining arm.
"Oh! Good show, old bean!" Stewart shouted, peering out from behind Hans' back and thrusting his fist into the air. | Name: <example: Ness>
Quality: <example: Determined>
Description: <example: you don't need an example for this one>
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: <example: sports equipment>
Skills: <example:
PK Flash: Blinds the enemy with a bright light of PSI energy!
PK Fire: Burns enemies within a small area of effect.
PK Heal: Removes status effects from a party member.
>
Stats: <this is where you allocate your stat points! You'll earn more stat points for specific stats as you fight.>
Speed: 4 (influences your turn in a fight and how fast you can avoid things outside of battle)
Strength: 1 (influences how much damage your attacks do and how much you can lift outside of battle)
Guts: 2 (influences how many hits you can take and how long you can stay alive)
Wits: 3 (influences how perceptive you are (how much information you can gather from a certain situation), i.e. how an enemy is described so you can find a weak spot or if you can find a hidden trapdoor)
<custom stats here>
Pockets (16 items max):
<example:
Sandwich
Baseball Bat (equipped)
Baseball Cap (equipped)
Odd Key
> |
43,586 | 1,195 | 11 | 2,402 | 236 | Damn, that hurt! Harry felt ashamed by that poor display. Poor show, gent! The peppermint did help stop some of the pain, but that dumb mistake really harmed his pride. Almost as much as the spikes! Harry jabbed the cactus with the stick! The attack connected and the stick left a hole in the cactus. More of its juices were pouring out! | Name: Harry
Quality: Relaxed
Description: Harry 14 years old and is five feet and seven inches in height. His body is skinny but still has a bit of muscle. He wears blue overalls and wears a striped t-shirt underneath. His hair is short and curly. On his hands, he wears brown gloves made of leather. He usually wears a straw hat to keep the desert sun off his eyes. He has very bushy eyebrows.
Harry isn't likely to take people very seriously. At times, he can be very skeptical and untrusting of other people. He is very confident in his skills, yet is the sort of person that just goes with the flow. Only danger can snap him out of this casual mood. He doesn't care too much for rules and is very fond of exploration. He loves his grandfather, but he doesn't really respect the old man. He doesn't care about the authorities very much and ignores his grandfather's attempts to make him a gentleman.
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Staffs/sticks
Skills:
LifeUp α: Heals an ally by a slight amount.
Healing α: Cures sleepiness, sunstroke, or cold.
Telepathy: Allows him to speak to animals and other non-human life forms.
Stats:
Speed: 2
Strength: 3
Guts: 2
Wits: 4
Sophistication: 1
Pockets:
Weird Poster
Sandwich
Straw-hat (equipped)
Stick (equipped)
Cookie
Cookie
Binder
Seeds
Spade
Trowel
Small jug of liquid
Green Thumb Ring (equipped) |
43,587 | 1,195 | 12 | 84 | 423 | The Panicked Cactus is wishing it could run away! The Panicked Cactus tripped over its roots as it tried to run away and fell down on its...face? It's hard to tell. Anyway, it lay trembling on the ground, juices dampening the desert ground.
Hans runs to the Panicked Cactus and grabs it, preparing for a Suplex! The Panicked Cactus' spikes dug deep into Hans' skin as he squeezed trying to lift it, causing him to cry in pain and release the Panicked Cactus.
Stewart, now without a hulking body to hide behind, yelped and threw a rock he found on the ground! The rock traveled only inches from Stewart's outstretched hand, useless. | Name: <example: Ness>
Quality: <example: Determined>
Description: <example: you don't need an example for this one>
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: <example: sports equipment>
Skills: <example:
PK Flash: Blinds the enemy with a bright light of PSI energy!
PK Fire: Burns enemies within a small area of effect.
PK Heal: Removes status effects from a party member.
>
Stats: <this is where you allocate your stat points! You'll earn more stat points for specific stats as you fight.>
Speed: 4 (influences your turn in a fight and how fast you can avoid things outside of battle)
Strength: 1 (influences how much damage your attacks do and how much you can lift outside of battle)
Guts: 2 (influences how many hits you can take and how long you can stay alive)
Wits: 3 (influences how perceptive you are (how much information you can gather from a certain situation), i.e. how an enemy is described so you can find a weak spot or if you can find a hidden trapdoor)
<custom stats here>
Pockets (16 items max):
<example:
Sandwich
Baseball Bat (equipped)
Baseball Cap (equipped)
Odd Key
> |
43,588 | 1,195 | 13 | 1,417 | 1,336 | Were these guys serious? Isaac thought.
Did Hans seriously try to suplex a cactus? Of course it would hurt. And Stewart through a rock, as if it would do anything. It was up to Isaac to finish the job.
Isaac paced to the prone and bleeding cactus, squatting down raising his knife for the kill. SMAAAAAASH!!
Isaac brought his knife down, stabbing the cactus in its 'neck'. A swift movement and its 'head' was rolled onto the dusty floor. Isaac stood and stared at the twitching, bleeding cactus in front of him, cactus juices pouring out. A moving cactus... Isaac thought. This was surely a sign of strange times. | Name: Isaac Ferum
Quality: Deceptively dangerous
Description: Isaac has pale blue hair and is tall for his age. He’s 15 years old and 180 cm tall. Isaac normally relaxes pretty much anywhere, giving off a sleepy demeanour. He loves his family and dotes on his younger sister a lot. He’s normally very docile, but when something threatens his idyllic lifestyle, his demeanour changes into that of a serial killer, willing to do anything to preserve his lifestyle. He keeps his psychic powers secret, because he wouldn’t know what would happen to his life if he revealed them.
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Sharp weapons.
Skills:
1. Mind attack: Deals damage and confuses the foe
2. Telekinesis: Move objects with the mind
3. Weapon barrage: Uses telekinesis to make the weapons in Isaac’s inventory float and strike the enemy. May hit multiple targets.
Stats:
- Speed: 3
- Strength: 1
- Guts: 1
- Wits: 3
- Laid-backness: 0
- Bloodlust: 2
Pockets (8/16):
- Small kitchen knife
- Large kitchen knife
- Teddy bear
- Marshmallow
- Bottle of water
- Vacuum sealed container with seed in it
- Strong hunting knife (equipped)
- Weird megaphone |
43,589 | 1,195 | 14 | 2,402 | 236 | What was up with that cactus? Harry observed the cactus as it lay on the ground, barely moving and juices flowing out of it. "That isn't exactly something you normally see here..." Harry realized that he still had several spikes stuck all around his body. "These'll be a real mess to take out..." Harry has seen several instances of unfortunate children getting cacti spikes stuck to their fingers, the end result was always painful... | Name: Harry
Quality: Relaxed
Description: Harry 14 years old and is five feet and seven inches in height. His body is skinny but still has a bit of muscle. He wears blue overalls and wears a striped t-shirt underneath. His hair is short and curly. On his hands, he wears brown gloves made of leather. He usually wears a straw hat to keep the desert sun off his eyes. He has very bushy eyebrows.
Harry isn't likely to take people very seriously. At times, he can be very skeptical and untrusting of other people. He is very confident in his skills, yet is the sort of person that just goes with the flow. Only danger can snap him out of this casual mood. He doesn't care too much for rules and is very fond of exploration. He loves his grandfather, but he doesn't really respect the old man. He doesn't care about the authorities very much and ignores his grandfather's attempts to make him a gentleman.
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Staffs/sticks
Skills:
LifeUp α: Heals an ally by a slight amount.
Healing α: Cures sleepiness, sunstroke, or cold.
Telepathy: Allows him to speak to animals and other non-human life forms.
Stats:
Speed: 2
Strength: 3
Guts: 2
Wits: 4
Sophistication: 1
Pockets:
Weird Poster
Sandwich
Straw-hat (equipped)
Stick (equipped)
Cookie
Cookie
Binder
Seeds
Spade
Trowel
Small jug of liquid
Green Thumb Ring (equipped) |
43,590 | 1,195 | 15 | 84 | 423 | The Panicked Cactus stopped moving!Victory!The entire party earns 8 experience points.
Inside the hollow husk of the Panicked Cactus, there was a Water Bottle.
The party took some time to regroup before moving on, Ronnie handing out Granola Bars (x2) to the injured Harry and Hans.
"A true man embraces pain to make him stronger!" Hans shouted, his muscles flexing and his "R"s rolling, as he initially refused Ronnie's offer. Ronnie persisted, however, eventually shoving the Granola Bar into his mouth.
"Yes, but a smart man finds ways to avoid it! Remember that, Harry!" Stewart cooed, brushing off his suit, which was already free of dust and not in need of dusting. "Oh my heavens, no! I've scuffed my shoes! Ruined! Ruined!" he lamented upon discovering a slight scuff on his almost mirror-like dress shoes.
Once everyone was ready, they continued southward, and soon the wreckage was in sight. A large, metal orb about the size of a small house lay in a small crater in the desert floor, covered in deep dents. The smoke, which was now just a thin stream, was trailing out of what were clearly shotgun shot holes near the top of the orb, and different colored glass panels made two perpendicular rings all the way around the orb, many of the panels cracked or broken completely and revealing shattered light bulbs. A circular opening in the side of the orb seemed to be the only point of entry, and its hatch lay open on large, heavy-looking hinges. Upon closer inspection, two sets of footprints could be seen running east... | Name: <example: Ness>
Quality: <example: Determined>
Description: <example: you don't need an example for this one>
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: <example: sports equipment>
Skills: <example:
PK Flash: Blinds the enemy with a bright light of PSI energy!
PK Fire: Burns enemies within a small area of effect.
PK Heal: Removes status effects from a party member.
>
Stats: <this is where you allocate your stat points! You'll earn more stat points for specific stats as you fight.>
Speed: 4 (influences your turn in a fight and how fast you can avoid things outside of battle)
Strength: 1 (influences how much damage your attacks do and how much you can lift outside of battle)
Guts: 2 (influences how many hits you can take and how long you can stay alive)
Wits: 3 (influences how perceptive you are (how much information you can gather from a certain situation), i.e. how an enemy is described so you can find a weak spot or if you can find a hidden trapdoor)
<custom stats here>
Pockets (16 items max):
<example:
Sandwich
Baseball Bat (equipped)
Baseball Cap (equipped)
Odd Key
> |
43,591 | 1,195 | 16 | 2,402 | 236 | Harry rolled his eyes as his grandpa fretted over his shoes. He could be such a silly man sometimes! He chose to leave the water bottle to Isaac, not like he needed it or anything.
Harry looked at the orb as they arrived, wondering what could have come out of it. "Hey, what in the hell's this thing?" He went closer to inspect it further. He saw the holes left by the mayor's shotgun and the smoke coming out of it. He noticed the opening in the side of the orb. Did some sort of monster from the sky come from here? Whatever it was, it was certainly very large. The footprints suggested that there were possibly two of them. His curiosity got the best of him, causing him to stick his head into the entrance to get a better look at the interior. | Name: Harry
Quality: Relaxed
Description: Harry 14 years old and is five feet and seven inches in height. His body is skinny but still has a bit of muscle. He wears blue overalls and wears a striped t-shirt underneath. His hair is short and curly. On his hands, he wears brown gloves made of leather. He usually wears a straw hat to keep the desert sun off his eyes. He has very bushy eyebrows.
Harry isn't likely to take people very seriously. At times, he can be very skeptical and untrusting of other people. He is very confident in his skills, yet is the sort of person that just goes with the flow. Only danger can snap him out of this casual mood. He doesn't care too much for rules and is very fond of exploration. He loves his grandfather, but he doesn't really respect the old man. He doesn't care about the authorities very much and ignores his grandfather's attempts to make him a gentleman.
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Staffs/sticks
Skills:
LifeUp α: Heals an ally by a slight amount.
Healing α: Cures sleepiness, sunstroke, or cold.
Telepathy: Allows him to speak to animals and other non-human life forms.
Stats:
Speed: 2
Strength: 3
Guts: 2
Wits: 4
Sophistication: 1
Pockets:
Weird Poster
Sandwich
Straw-hat (equipped)
Stick (equipped)
Cookie
Cookie
Binder
Seeds
Spade
Trowel
Small jug of liquid
Green Thumb Ring (equipped) |
43,592 | 1,195 | 17 | 1,417 | 1,336 | Isaac pocketed the bottle of water left to him. He'd probably just put it in the fridge later. What concerned him more was the mysterious metal construct that had crashed outside of their town. Undoubtedly, this was the wreck of a UFO, because they didn't know what it was, it was an object, and it flew (or at least, it used to). This would likely gain the attention of the government, and a hush-up would probably be in order. In fact, the fact that it crashed near their town would likely bring a world of annoyance to the quiet town, which Isaac didn't want.
Isaac was of 2 minds in this, reporting it to the authorities and getting the government to take action, or not letting them know and hiding the truth. Letting the government know might result in a clean-up and cover-up of the situation and Isaac would never have to bother with it again. Or, it could result in a quarantine of the town and questioning. That was likely, considering there were footprints leading east. That was where the second option came into play, keeping it secret. If the government knew nothing, they would do nothing. But that had a low chance of sucess, and the government had probably already sent something their way to deal with it. Both options looked as if to turn the lives of the town upside-down.
Isaac's face went dark for a moment.
If this incident would break the peace of the town, then he just had to do something about it. Isaac looked around first. For now, he couldn't do anything. He had to investigate the crash for more information, or chase the footprints east. If he had more information, the path ahead would be clear. First, however, he had to see what the others were doing. | Name: Isaac Ferum
Quality: Deceptively dangerous
Description: Isaac has pale blue hair and is tall for his age. He’s 15 years old and 180 cm tall. Isaac normally relaxes pretty much anywhere, giving off a sleepy demeanour. He loves his family and dotes on his younger sister a lot. He’s normally very docile, but when something threatens his idyllic lifestyle, his demeanour changes into that of a serial killer, willing to do anything to preserve his lifestyle. He keeps his psychic powers secret, because he wouldn’t know what would happen to his life if he revealed them.
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Sharp weapons.
Skills:
1. Mind attack: Deals damage and confuses the foe
2. Telekinesis: Move objects with the mind
3. Weapon barrage: Uses telekinesis to make the weapons in Isaac’s inventory float and strike the enemy. May hit multiple targets.
Stats:
- Speed: 3
- Strength: 1
- Guts: 1
- Wits: 3
- Laid-backness: 0
- Bloodlust: 2
Pockets (8/16):
- Small kitchen knife
- Large kitchen knife
- Teddy bear
- Marshmallow
- Bottle of water
- Vacuum sealed container with seed in it
- Strong hunting knife (equipped)
- Weird megaphone |
43,593 | 1,195 | 18 | 84 | 423 | As Harry peeked his head inside the orb, he saw a metal paneled floor that was slightly angled from the way it had crashed, a solid sheet metal wall that seemed to perfectly bisect the orb, and a ladder that again bisected the wall, stretching down through a hole in the floor and up through a hole in the ceiling. He could see that there was something on the other side of the wall through the ladder, but there was no way to get around the ladder from here. The hole in the floor seemed to suggest that one would need to climb down all the way and climb back up the other side of the ladder to get to the other side of the wall. An odd design.
Looking left and right, he saw the inner walls of the orb were lined with rectangular metal counters jutting out from the wall, apparently just welded in place at their corners, as the curve of the orb left gaping holes behind behind the perfectly straight backs of the rectangles. The mess of broken pots and dirt and plants and scraps of paper and glass cluttering up the corners and foot of the wall around the ladder seemed to suggest that some objects had shifted from the countertops during the crash. To the right of the ladder, lying on the floor with a broken frame, was a framed poster of a 1800's-style portrait of a bearded man in what looked like (but wasn't) a Confederate general's uniform from the American Civil War. The hook on which the painting had been hanging seemed to be holding something else that glinted in the faint light streaming through the hole, but Harry couldn't see what it was from where he stood (hung? The opening was about 6 or 7 feet off the ground) in the opening.
"Well, this is certainly intriguing!" Stewart mused, squeezing his monocle closer to his eye and squinting from a safe distance.
"Harry! Be careful up thayer!" Ronnie drawled in the incredibly friendly way that he always spoke. "Do yuh see annehthin' innerestin'?" he asked as he scurried up the side of the orb to look inside with Harry.
Hans simply stood there by Isaac, admiring his biceps as he flexed. | Name: <example: Ness>
Quality: <example: Determined>
Description: <example: you don't need an example for this one>
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: <example: sports equipment>
Skills: <example:
PK Flash: Blinds the enemy with a bright light of PSI energy!
PK Fire: Burns enemies within a small area of effect.
PK Heal: Removes status effects from a party member.
>
Stats: <this is where you allocate your stat points! You'll earn more stat points for specific stats as you fight.>
Speed: 4 (influences your turn in a fight and how fast you can avoid things outside of battle)
Strength: 1 (influences how much damage your attacks do and how much you can lift outside of battle)
Guts: 2 (influences how many hits you can take and how long you can stay alive)
Wits: 3 (influences how perceptive you are (how much information you can gather from a certain situation), i.e. how an enemy is described so you can find a weak spot or if you can find a hidden trapdoor)
<custom stats here>
Pockets (16 items max):
<example:
Sandwich
Baseball Bat (equipped)
Baseball Cap (equipped)
Odd Key
> |
43,594 | 1,195 | 19 | 2,402 | 236 | Yeah! Harry called out to Ronnie. "I've never seen anything like this before!" Harry climbed into the opening and went farther into the pod, noticing how foreign everything looked. He took a few more steps inside. Noticing the broken frame on the floor, Harry picked up the poster to examine it further. It looked really anachronistic, maybe Stuart had some idea of what it was? The old man was always a very smart and cultured type of guy, it would be no surprise if he was able to identify the image.
He rolled it up and stuffed it in his pocket to check out later. He looked at the ladders that showed the other the other side of the room. It seemed like all he would need to do was climb a bit before reaching the next room. Once again, adventure called to him! He certainly took after his grandfather in this regard. Harry grabbed onto the ladder and climbed down it, curious to find out more about this place. | Name: Harry
Quality: Relaxed
Description: Harry 14 years old and is five feet and seven inches in height. His body is skinny but still has a bit of muscle. He wears blue overalls and wears a striped t-shirt underneath. His hair is short and curly. On his hands, he wears brown gloves made of leather. He usually wears a straw hat to keep the desert sun off his eyes. He has very bushy eyebrows.
Harry isn't likely to take people very seriously. At times, he can be very skeptical and untrusting of other people. He is very confident in his skills, yet is the sort of person that just goes with the flow. Only danger can snap him out of this casual mood. He doesn't care too much for rules and is very fond of exploration. He loves his grandfather, but he doesn't really respect the old man. He doesn't care about the authorities very much and ignores his grandfather's attempts to make him a gentleman.
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Staffs/sticks
Skills:
LifeUp α: Heals an ally by a slight amount.
Healing α: Cures sleepiness, sunstroke, or cold.
Telepathy: Allows him to speak to animals and other non-human life forms.
Stats:
Speed: 2
Strength: 3
Guts: 2
Wits: 4
Sophistication: 1
Pockets:
Weird Poster
Sandwich
Straw-hat (equipped)
Stick (equipped)
Cookie
Cookie
Binder
Seeds
Spade
Trowel
Small jug of liquid
Green Thumb Ring (equipped) |
43,595 | 1,195 | 20 | 1,417 | 1,336 | Isaac went over to explore the ship. He didn't exactly need to, but standing next to a man who flexes his muscles in his spare time was the less preferable option in this case.
Upon entering the ship, Isaac found that it was a mess. There wasn't that much to see, but there was a ladder which led who knew where, which piqued his curiosity. Isaac went back out of the ship and climbed the roof, trying to see where the tracks led. The mysterious footprints led off east into the distance, and he couldn't see the end of them. But being in a desert like this, they would be swept away eventually.
Isaac got down from the roof. The group was called on to 'investigate' the crash, meaning that they had 2 jobs right now. Finding out what was in the strange craft and finding out what came out of it. It would be a good idea to split up, using their numbers to their advantage. One team would investigate the crash site and the other would investigate the footprints.
There were a lot of unknown factors, however, and splitting up might be a bad idea. The living cactus, for example, was one such unknown variable. How was it alive? How did it live? Might they find more? In that respect, the team going after the tracks might be in more danger, considering that there are more cactuses in the desert, meaning it was possible that there would be more living cactuses. But the fact was, there were no living cactuses until the crash, meaning that the crash might hold some answers. So it actually might be better for all of them to investigate the crash site...
"We should look around in this wrecked... thing." Isaac said aloud, not caring who heard it.
Everyone knew that, but they weren't doing anything yet. If no one headed down, then he'd go first. | Name: Isaac Ferum
Quality: Deceptively dangerous
Description: Isaac has pale blue hair and is tall for his age. He’s 15 years old and 180 cm tall. Isaac normally relaxes pretty much anywhere, giving off a sleepy demeanour. He loves his family and dotes on his younger sister a lot. He’s normally very docile, but when something threatens his idyllic lifestyle, his demeanour changes into that of a serial killer, willing to do anything to preserve his lifestyle. He keeps his psychic powers secret, because he wouldn’t know what would happen to his life if he revealed them.
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Sharp weapons.
Skills:
1. Mind attack: Deals damage and confuses the foe
2. Telekinesis: Move objects with the mind
3. Weapon barrage: Uses telekinesis to make the weapons in Isaac’s inventory float and strike the enemy. May hit multiple targets.
Stats:
- Speed: 3
- Strength: 1
- Guts: 1
- Wits: 3
- Laid-backness: 0
- Bloodlust: 2
Pockets (8/16):
- Small kitchen knife
- Large kitchen knife
- Teddy bear
- Marshmallow
- Bottle of water
- Vacuum sealed container with seed in it
- Strong hunting knife (equipped)
- Weird megaphone |
43,596 | 1,195 | 21 | 84 | 423 | One by one, the party climbed into the wrecked orb, Hans doing most of the lifting. This first room, though filthy, looked innocuous enough, but as they got deeper inside, they could see that the room visible through the ladder seemed to be humming and blinking with multi-colored lights.
As Harry climbed down the ladder, he saw that there was a large room with no flat floor. It was rounded, just like the orb, composed the entire bottom of the orb below the floor, and a sizzling, green liquid with some kind of steam rising off was pooled all around the bottom of the ladder. The source of the liquid seemed to be a broken cylindrical tank with a metal dome base on the other side of the circular room. The base had a smoking, sparking panel on the side underneath the tank.
Sticking straight out of the liquid at a slight angle were about 10 metal rods distributed evenly in a circle around the room. Each of the rods had unbroken glass terrariums stuck on top of them, and the tiny plants inside seemed to be moving. On the opposite side of the room from the tank, there was a large wooden box with an unlocked lock hanging from its latch. The wood looked extremely out of place in the otherwise totally metallic orb.
As Harry was looking around and taking in the utterly foreign surroundings, the rusted rung of the ladder his feet were resting on broke off from underneath him! The broken rung clanged against the one below it loudly and landed into the green liquid with a splash, all of the noises echoing deafeningly around the metal room. To Harry's relief, there was no sizzle as the metal rung hit the liquid, indicating that it was not in fact a cartoonishly acidic substance as would have been the natural assumption in this situation. In spite of this relief, Harry was still hanging there, and the rung he clung to began shifting under his weight. | Name: <example: Ness>
Quality: <example: Determined>
Description: <example: you don't need an example for this one>
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: <example: sports equipment>
Skills: <example:
PK Flash: Blinds the enemy with a bright light of PSI energy!
PK Fire: Burns enemies within a small area of effect.
PK Heal: Removes status effects from a party member.
>
Stats: <this is where you allocate your stat points! You'll earn more stat points for specific stats as you fight.>
Speed: 4 (influences your turn in a fight and how fast you can avoid things outside of battle)
Strength: 1 (influences how much damage your attacks do and how much you can lift outside of battle)
Guts: 2 (influences how many hits you can take and how long you can stay alive)
Wits: 3 (influences how perceptive you are (how much information you can gather from a certain situation), i.e. how an enemy is described so you can find a weak spot or if you can find a hidden trapdoor)
<custom stats here>
Pockets (16 items max):
<example:
Sandwich
Baseball Bat (equipped)
Baseball Cap (equipped)
Odd Key
> |
43,597 | 1,195 | 22 | 1,417 | 1,336 | Harry, you might want to get off that ladder. Isaac called down nonchalantly.
Isaac was at the top of the ladder. He wanted to be the last person down, in case something happened or he needed to do something or other. It should be fine for him not to be down there, because there didn't seem to be that much to see. But if there was something that needed to be done, he could always ask.
"See anything interesting down there?" Isaac asked. | Name: Isaac Ferum
Quality: Deceptively dangerous
Description: Isaac has pale blue hair and is tall for his age. He’s 15 years old and 180 cm tall. Isaac normally relaxes pretty much anywhere, giving off a sleepy demeanour. He loves his family and dotes on his younger sister a lot. He’s normally very docile, but when something threatens his idyllic lifestyle, his demeanour changes into that of a serial killer, willing to do anything to preserve his lifestyle. He keeps his psychic powers secret, because he wouldn’t know what would happen to his life if he revealed them.
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Sharp weapons.
Skills:
1. Mind attack: Deals damage and confuses the foe
2. Telekinesis: Move objects with the mind
3. Weapon barrage: Uses telekinesis to make the weapons in Isaac’s inventory float and strike the enemy. May hit multiple targets.
Stats:
- Speed: 3
- Strength: 1
- Guts: 1
- Wits: 3
- Laid-backness: 0
- Bloodlust: 2
Pockets (8/16):
- Small kitchen knife
- Large kitchen knife
- Teddy bear
- Marshmallow
- Bottle of water
- Vacuum sealed container with seed in it
- Strong hunting knife (equipped)
- Weird megaphone |
43,598 | 1,195 | 23 | 2,402 | 236 | Harry noted that the green liquid appeared to be harmless. Harmless enough to walk on anyway. He jumped off the ladder and fell to the floor before anymore of the rungs could be broken. He was aiming to reach the wooden box on the other side of the room, the fact that it seemed so different from everything else in the room made him wonder what could be inside it. "I'm in some kinda room, everything's sort of round. Plus, there's kind of a weird liquid here. " He told Isaac from below him. "Doesn't look deadly, but I'm not leaving any of my feet on the floor long enough to find out." Harry was jumping in place to avoid keeping his feet on the substance for too long. Given his luck, the day could only get worse. "There're some plants here, too. In some sorta plant...container thing. They're inside rods, the plants inside look like they're moving a bit." The exact name of the terrarium didn't occur to him. | Name: Harry
Quality: Relaxed
Description: Harry 14 years old and is five feet and seven inches in height. His body is skinny but still has a bit of muscle. He wears blue overalls and wears a striped t-shirt underneath. His hair is short and curly. On his hands, he wears brown gloves made of leather. He usually wears a straw hat to keep the desert sun off his eyes. He has very bushy eyebrows.
Harry isn't likely to take people very seriously. At times, he can be very skeptical and untrusting of other people. He is very confident in his skills, yet is the sort of person that just goes with the flow. Only danger can snap him out of this casual mood. He doesn't care too much for rules and is very fond of exploration. He loves his grandfather, but he doesn't really respect the old man. He doesn't care about the authorities very much and ignores his grandfather's attempts to make him a gentleman.
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Staffs/sticks
Skills:
LifeUp α: Heals an ally by a slight amount.
Healing α: Cures sleepiness, sunstroke, or cold.
Telepathy: Allows him to speak to animals and other non-human life forms.
Stats:
Speed: 2
Strength: 3
Guts: 2
Wits: 4
Sophistication: 1
Pockets:
Weird Poster
Sandwich
Straw-hat (equipped)
Stick (equipped)
Cookie
Cookie
Binder
Seeds
Spade
Trowel
Small jug of liquid
Green Thumb Ring (equipped) |
43,599 | 1,195 | 24 | 84 | 423 | As Harry hopped from foot to foot, he couldn't help but feel like he was stepping on something squishy that lay invisible beneath the opaque green liquid. At the very least, nothing bad was happening now. And he even felt the broken rung of the ladder, which happened to be about the same size as his stick, though hollow. All of the plants in their terrariums were now pressed against their glass, as if trying to get to Harry, but there didn't seem to be any threat of them escaping or anything.
"Ah'm comin' down thayer, too! I'll help yeh look fer stuff," Ronnie piped as he climbed down the ladder, careful to grip the sides instead of the rungs. "Whoa!" He sighed as he reached the bottom and walked over to the broken tank. He hadn't noticed the wooden chest on the other side of the room, nor did he seem to notice the little plants pressing against the glass to try to follow him as he walked by. He reached the tank and down stooped to examine the panel. "Whell, it don't look like nuthin' alien...looks like English, actually!" He stood and turned around, craning his neck to try to see up through the ladder hole, trying to see if either of the other adults were there. "Can't say I can read what it says, though... Maybe we should check up above and see what's up thayer! Maht find sum ayunswers thayer, cuz there don't seem to be much down heer but sum creepy plant jars..." He said, finally noticing the terrariums.
"Hans is too big fit through the ladder holes. Hans will wait here," Hans stated in third person.
Stewart was busy trying to reach for the shiny thing on the hook above the fallen poster. Turns out it was a tiny little old-fashioned key, but he just couldn't reach it. "I say, young Isaac, you're a tall fellow. Taller than me at any rate. Won't you grab this key for me? I would ask Hans, but he seems to be quite occupied at the moment." Hans was again admiring his muscles, though it was his gleuts he was trying to admire this time, and he couldn't quite twist his body or head enough to see over his gargantuan shoulders. | Name: <example: Ness>
Quality: <example: Determined>
Description: <example: you don't need an example for this one>
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: <example: sports equipment>
Skills: <example:
PK Flash: Blinds the enemy with a bright light of PSI energy!
PK Fire: Burns enemies within a small area of effect.
PK Heal: Removes status effects from a party member.
>
Stats: <this is where you allocate your stat points! You'll earn more stat points for specific stats as you fight.>
Speed: 4 (influences your turn in a fight and how fast you can avoid things outside of battle)
Strength: 1 (influences how much damage your attacks do and how much you can lift outside of battle)
Guts: 2 (influences how many hits you can take and how long you can stay alive)
Wits: 3 (influences how perceptive you are (how much information you can gather from a certain situation), i.e. how an enemy is described so you can find a weak spot or if you can find a hidden trapdoor)
<custom stats here>
Pockets (16 items max):
<example:
Sandwich
Baseball Bat (equipped)
Baseball Cap (equipped)
Odd Key
> |
43,600 | 1,195 | 25 | 1,417 | 1,336 | Alright, let me just... Isaac said.
He stretched his hands upwards and grabbed the key, carefully removing it from the hook. He had to stretch his toes a little.
Retracting his arm, Isaac opened his hand to study the key. It was a small brass key, with 2 'teeth' at the end. It was about the length of his thumb and had a 3-leafed clover pattern on the back. Isaac had no idea what it could be for.
"Here's the key." Isaac said, bringing his hand around to show Stewart. "Don't ask me what it's for, though." | Name: Isaac Ferum
Quality: Deceptively dangerous
Description: Isaac has pale blue hair and is tall for his age. He’s 15 years old and 180 cm tall. Isaac normally relaxes pretty much anywhere, giving off a sleepy demeanour. He loves his family and dotes on his younger sister a lot. He’s normally very docile, but when something threatens his idyllic lifestyle, his demeanour changes into that of a serial killer, willing to do anything to preserve his lifestyle. He keeps his psychic powers secret, because he wouldn’t know what would happen to his life if he revealed them.
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Sharp weapons.
Skills:
1. Mind attack: Deals damage and confuses the foe
2. Telekinesis: Move objects with the mind
3. Weapon barrage: Uses telekinesis to make the weapons in Isaac’s inventory float and strike the enemy. May hit multiple targets.
Stats:
- Speed: 3
- Strength: 1
- Guts: 1
- Wits: 3
- Laid-backness: 0
- Bloodlust: 2
Pockets (8/16):
- Small kitchen knife
- Large kitchen knife
- Teddy bear
- Marshmallow
- Bottle of water
- Vacuum sealed container with seed in it
- Strong hunting knife (equipped)
- Weird megaphone |
43,601 | 1,195 | 26 | 2,402 | 236 | Harry finally stopped jumping in place, it dawned upon him that he probably looked like a huge idiot. The ground was mushy, but he felt the rung that had gotten thrown down into the floor before. It still didn't seem very dangerous, but he couldn't help but wonder what the substance could be. He'd have to check out what the tank said in a moment, but there were more important matters at hand. "Ronnie, gimme a sec here." Against his better judgement, Harry began walking to the other side of the room. The plants kept pressing up against the glass as he walked, it was very unnerving to say the least. He arrived at the box, feeling very nervous about opening it in such a weird place. It had been a while since he had lost his cool temperament like this, he wasn't sure if this was a good idea. But he pressed on and opened the wooden box! | Name: Harry
Quality: Relaxed
Description: Harry 14 years old and is five feet and seven inches in height. His body is skinny but still has a bit of muscle. He wears blue overalls and wears a striped t-shirt underneath. His hair is short and curly. On his hands, he wears brown gloves made of leather. He usually wears a straw hat to keep the desert sun off his eyes. He has very bushy eyebrows.
Harry isn't likely to take people very seriously. At times, he can be very skeptical and untrusting of other people. He is very confident in his skills, yet is the sort of person that just goes with the flow. Only danger can snap him out of this casual mood. He doesn't care too much for rules and is very fond of exploration. He loves his grandfather, but he doesn't really respect the old man. He doesn't care about the authorities very much and ignores his grandfather's attempts to make him a gentleman.
Main Weapon/Fighting Style: Staffs/sticks
Skills:
LifeUp α: Heals an ally by a slight amount.
Healing α: Cures sleepiness, sunstroke, or cold.
Telepathy: Allows him to speak to animals and other non-human life forms.
Stats:
Speed: 2
Strength: 3
Guts: 2
Wits: 4
Sophistication: 1
Pockets:
Weird Poster
Sandwich
Straw-hat (equipped)
Stick (equipped)
Cookie
Cookie
Binder
Seeds
Spade
Trowel
Small jug of liquid
Green Thumb Ring (equipped) |
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