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49,202 | 1,328 | 2 | 111 | 54 | Aaron's eyes opened slowly as he gained consciousness on the cold marble floor he had been sent to. He brushed his curling hair out of his eyes to take a look around his surroundings. It was old and made of marble, so it was reasonable to say this was the ignis temple he was told about He tried to remember how he had found himself on the temple floor. Running away from his father, when an attendant had found him huddled in a corner with only his tome and the robes he had been wearing. The King had sent them there, talking about a sacred artifact. But what would they do if they found it? Probably use it to help the kingdom.
"The king!" He spoke suddenly, as he remembered the figure that had entered the room moments before he was sent away. Aaron got up hastily, neglecting to brush himself off, and saw Cassio and an attendant on the floor beside him. He noticed he was the first one up, and quickly shifted Cassio and the attendant to wake them up. | Name: Aaron Heruscir (Hair-ooh-sea-r)
Gender: Male
Level: 2
Age/Birthdate: 28. Born December 2nd, 453 AL
Appearance/Description: Aaron has curled red hair that stretches down his neck, but not past his shoulders. He keeps his bangs relatively short to keep his vision clear. He is moderately tall, reaching about 5'10", and he is built moderately. His eyes are blue, and he has some freckles above his cheeks. Aaron is fairly pale and wears a red robe with yellow trimming into battle, to match his hair of course. When not in battle he wears his tan tunic and slightly darker leggings with splendor. His tunic is laden with many stains of various drinks and foods, since he doesn't really care about sanitation or other's feelings towards him.
Background/Personality Blurb: Aaron was born to a well respected royal family in Iris who were both court jesters and mages for the empire to use in various battles. They worked hard, and were famed for the speed they could cast their spells at. However, once the kingdom of Iris was under siege, Aaron's father Hamilcar decided to abandon the kingdom, and fight for the opposing side. Aaron refused to join the army, for they had captured his crush, a young maid that worked for the royals of Iris. Hamilcar attempted to spare his son from the opposing army by burning the maid alive with his magic so that Aaron wouldn't have to make the choice to stay with the maid or join him. Feeling outraged by his father's decision, for not understanding his love, he fled into the town chased by his father's men, only to find a hiding place in a dark alley by some rubbish, heart pounding.
Since I intend for Aaron to have some growth following the death of his crush and the betrayal of his father I don't want to give away too much, but I'll give some detail. Before the attack, Aaron was a carefree lighthearted individual. He had an infactuation with being well respected, and typically gave the butlers and maids a hard time, forgetting things and leaving them strewn about, and not being careful with any food or beverages. He believed the world was going to be perfect, even if the other kingdoms didn't enjoy the kingdom of Iris too much. He was content to study his magic, and let that carry him through live with a grin on his face. Aaron also fell into and out of love fairly easily as he could never really tell his feelings out straight and then ignored his interests until he wasn't interested anymore.
Class: Mage (If we're going by type of mage, then Fire mage) |
49,203 | 1,328 | 3 | 941 | 3,112 | Cassio
Sacred Temple Ignis /
Cassio stared into empty space, lost in thoughts and completely, utterly alone.
(This was, of course, disregarding the two others who had been transported to the temple with him, but they were basically dead, laying around in some ancient ruin like corpses, so it was okay.)
They say that the first stage of grief is denial. Cassio had seen it in the bearing of amputee soldiers, consigned to a life of hopeless peasantry. He’d seen it in the eyes of widows, their lovers too frail to save. And now, for the first time, he understood it cerebrally, but not yet literally. That ill-tempered old hag couldn’t have gone down so easily. Cassio wouldn’t allow such a thing; he was the one who was supposed to be the end of her, not some asshole with a mask, questionable facial hair, and a retinue of fools and his kinsmen. This had truly been a terrible day, to say the least, and now he was in this strange land with nobody to accompany him.
(One of the bodies in his peripheral cried out and began to move on his own in very un-corpse-like fashion, but that was besides the point.)
Indeed, a wholly unpleasant feeling this was, to be alone. Not even his horse was here to accompany him on this perilous journey! The poor thing was probably having a terrible time at the hands of some uncivilized insurgent, manning her reigns with such brutish incompetence. Perhaps it would die. Perhaps he would die, and some measure of karmic balance return to this lonely world.
(He registered that one move over to the other, shaking her awake, but Cassio was content to pretend that didn’t happen. They may have not been dead, but philosophically speaking, were they not all simply walking dead?)
Unfortunately, in the midst of wallowing in self-pity, a shadow crossed him. Not the spectre of death, but that fiery haired gent, who was trying to touch him.
“Nonono. By the gods, that’s all wrong; clean yourself before you handle a body,” Cassio raised a finger, conveying his sobriety and stopping Aaron from shaking him awake, “If I were injured I may have caught some ancient disease from the stones of this redundant and ostentatiously named temple.”
The horseless troubadour got to his feet and dusted himself off. Then he picked up the twin staves laying at his side: Heal and Freeze.
“Now that we’ve established equal lucidity and proper first-aid conduct, let us find this artifact that our adulterous king was so kind to send us off for,” he tapped one of his staves against the ground, “Then we can get to the fun stuff: murdering, torturing, or otherwise inflicting grievous bodily harm on some insurgents. My staves want blood! ...But not in the usual fashion." | Name: Cassio
Gender: Male
Age/Birthdate: 23; November 22
Appearance/Description:
Background/Personality Blurb: A healer who appeared out of nowhere and was taken as the apprentice to a prominent member of the nobility. Though he seems to be an amiable person, he has a terrible personality, and as a result, he has no friends. The best with beasts in the army, and the worst conversationalist.
Though his history prior to arriving on the Irisian court social scene is quite nebulous, by his own admission, Cassio is a foreigner from the hinterlands of the west - a fact which has done little to establish social rapport in the court of Iris due to the ill-reputation of the land: decayed and insular, with a strange, cultish culture and even stranger people. The only reason his presence is tolerated is because he serves as the protege to the royal physician, and a skilled, reliable one at that...So long as you disregard his morbid fixation with the art and science of injury, and his appalling bedside manner.
That said, the relationship between himself and his mentor is hardly mother-son; it's quite full of vitriol, but there is no questioning the mutual loyalty and understanding between the two. While it seems strange that an enemy national would ally himself so closely to the monarchy (and why the monarchy would allow an enemy national so close), he's actually more loyal to the people in the institution rather than the institution itself - a loyalist in name only, especially since politics like that are of little interest to him. But although he'd made a point to distance himself from the political tension occurring in Iris, things have a way of coming to him instead of the other way around.
And now he is quite upset.
Class: Troubadour |
49,204 | 1,328 | 4 | 312 | 1,164 | Felix continued to ride, not wanting to lose any time. He'd be damned if he was going to let some bandits ravage his home. He was going to get there first, no questions asked.
As he continued to ride, another on horseback started alongside him.
"Felix," the older woman spoke. "You're en route for the bandit forces, I take it? You've an uncharacteristically serious look on your face." She continued.
"Commander," Felix spoke, not giving more than a single word to the woman.
~~~~~
"Quite the respectful behavior for a place of reverence," a young girl's voice spoke. A girl in luxurious red robes stepped from the shadows, approaching Aaron, Cassio, and the aide. "So, I suppose from the looks of you all that little Alphy's premonition has come to pass." Though she sounded young, and indeed, looked no older than twelve, she spoke and carried herself with the air of a noblewoman. "So tell me, what are your names, young ones?" She asked before motioning to a figure in the shadows. "It appears the young lady here has fainted from the trauma of her trip. Please take her to a side room so that she may rest." She said, an old man nodding and taking away the king's attendant.
~~~~~
As Katherine prepared, the bandits continued to encroach upon the farm's boundaries.
"'ell mates," the leader spoke. "Looks like this place is ripe fer a spot o' mischief. Men, kill any men or kids who are stupid enough to stand before us. If 'ere are any lil' beauties 'ere... Well, we consider them a prize for the camp." He said with a hearty laugh. As he descended on the farm, it was clear that he was in charge of about ten men. "Well, 'op to it then! No lollygagging!" | Name: Felix
Gender: Male
Age/Birthdate: 19 (DoB: August 21, 462)
Appearance/Description: A young man with pale sunbleached hair and dark eyes. He stands at 5'11 and has a lithe build, though considerable muscle definition in his arms due to both working on a farm and swinging a sword. Can usually be seen in a red tunic with a hardened leather vest over it. Wears tan pants and heavy boots. He has a sword.
Background/Personality Blurb: Second child of a small farm family living on the countryside. He joined a local militia about a year ago to help keep both his home and the nearby town safe from bandits. While as a child, he favored use of swords in play fights, he shifted to the lance when he joined the militia, and used his experience tending horses to become a mounted fighter. In spite of his occupation and spending a lot of time training and, in his youth, play sword fighting, he's a rather passive individual unless his family is at stake.
Class: Cavalier |
49,205 | 1,328 | 5 | 791 | 428 | Katherine hid in the crops on the side of the entrance once she saw them. "One, two, three....ten? I think." she whispered to herself, "Too many to take head-on by myself...but I know this farm better. Maybe I can whittle them down before they do too much or get too far in. Or at least until help arrives. I'll need them after me, though....Hope they find me pretty?"
She couldn't wait too long or they'd be too spread out and she'd be surrounded. Kathy took a deep breath to calm her shaking, and then stepped out from her hiding place behind the crops once they got close enough. "H-Hello there, boys..." her voice was a little shakier than she would've liked, she smiled at them and gave them a little flirty wave, "Fancy a game of Kat and Mouse?" she asked, with a wink, and then hopped back into the crops without waiting for their answer. Hopefully, they'd be more concerned with...capturing her than damaging the crops.
Kathy went enough into the crops that she could hide and waited for them to get closer, ready to blast the closest one in the face with a Lightning. After which she'd take off running again to the right, keeping to the outskirts of the farm to find another spot she could hide in for another ambush. | Name: Katherine
Gender: Female
Class: Princess (Lord)
Age/Birthdate: 21
Level : 1
Appearance/Description: Katherine has bright green eyes, light brown hair, and a pale complexion. She wears a rather plain white cleric dress that reaches to her ankles, and brown boots.
As a child, Katherine lived a pretty plain life living with on a farm in the countryside. Pretty often she would play together with her younger brother, sword fighting with sticks, or some other childlike game. Although, on occasion it would be chess. More often than not, he beat her in most everything. He was a bit more active and strategic than she, while Kathy was more sweet and carefree.
She was happy, until the day came that her brother decided to become a militiaman. Kathy never quite understood why. She knew he liked sword fighting and wanted to protect as many people as he could, but she didn’t want her brother to get hurt either….but it was his decision, and off he went. She was never able to see him very often.
This made her rather unhappy and bored, and decided to become a cleric. She enjoyed helping people, and soldiers often had need of healing, right? What better way could she help her brother? They were getting too old to play child’s games, but at least she could see him every now and then. And she did enjoy being a cleric. It was nice helping people and relieving their pain and illness. It suited her better than fighting.
That is, of course, until the sigil showed up on her upper right thigh. She knew what it meant. And it meant a whole new life for her…
HP: 17 – 60%
Str: 2 – 20%
Magic: 8 – 50%
Skll: 6 – 40%
Speed: 7 – 50%
Luck: 7 – 30%
Def: 4 – 35%
Res: 5 – 35%
Weapon Ranks:
Light: E
Staff: D |
49,206 | 1,328 | 6 | 1,821 | 1,686 | Laeva didn't know where she was going to go now that all regional tournaments were canceled for the foreseeable future. That meant unemployment to the wandering showsword as Laeva had one time been called. It was an unflattering title, really, as the man who called her that did think of her fondly. Despite the negative connotation, the title kind of stuck so Laeva kept it.
Title aside, Laeva really did have an issue with money at the moment. She was down to the last coin from her previous prize winnings, exchanging the nearly everything that was left for food and a place to stay in some unnamed village, well someone told her the name but she forgot it by now. Whatever this village's name was, it clearly wasn't the best place for Laeva to find work because as it turns out, common folk usually don't need someone skilled with a sword. While this was a major setback, it was all made up for in the deliciousness the host's Shepard pie. It was so filling, Laeva tended to be put to sleep shortly thereafter and with having recently stuffed herself, she found herself sleeping by an old oak tree near the village.
The oak was probably one of the better places she had ever managed to fall asleep at with her internal ranking probably rating it a seven out of ten. The shade from the leaves provided protection from a stifling sun on warmer days but those days were usually the best to find a shaded tree for a little R&R. Today was one of those warmer days as Laeva quickly nodded off with the sensation of a warm blanket being around her. Perfect all things considered, but today just didn't seem to be her day.
A stubby greasy hand annoyingly poked her cheek until she stirred awake. "What? What?" Laeva spat as she swatted the hand away. Turning her head to see the disturber, it was a plump boy on the verge of his pubescence. "Oh. It's you, Rodrick." Laeva sighed, clasping her hand to her face. Rodrick was his host's son, a boy who was initially very excited to be hosting the Great Apollo in his house, only to be disappointed that it was a girl. Still, the boy was sweet in some ways and quickly got over his initial disappointment by hearing Laeva's stories about the tournaments. Given his enthusiasm, Laeva had half a mind to train him a bit while she was here but his parents had none of that idea. Laeva could relate and wanted to teach him anyway but seeing as she would directly go against her host, it was in bad taste to do so.
"Please you have to help everyone. My mom tells me some men are going to attack us."
Laeva lifted her head to take a questioning glance at the boy. He seemed sincere enough but he didn't sound like he fully understood what was happening. Laeva pegged that his mother came out here to have Laeva help, which she probably would have done anyway. Somehow Laeva thought this was her host getting out of paying her for the assistance. Sending the kid to play the innocent card because if the mother had asked herself, you bet Laeva would ask for her money back. "Ugh. Fine, Rodrick. I'll take care of the bad men but you better pressure your mother into giving me some of my money back."
Satisfied, Rodrick nodded and ran back to his home leaving Laeva to dust herself off and find the ruffians who were supposedly threatening the area.
Turns out, it wasn't too difficult. After asking around, she figured out the visible red smoke meant they were to the East. The same guy who told her on the road also mentioned that it was entirely possible the bandits might first target a farm that was due East, down the road a ways. Great... They're going to send me all the way over there. The village might have been next, but Laeva would disagree solely on the idea that she had been disturbed from her sleep too soon. However, might as well see what is going on since she was up.
It was going to take a few minutes on foot but the farm shouldn't be that hard to find. Laeva was prepared to react accordingly. | Name: Laeva Lunaris
Gender: Female
Age/Birthdate: 23 years old, 458 AL
Background/Personality Blurb: Growing up, Laeva was always one to skip out on work around the farm. To her, the brutal work out in the fields or on the animals was always best suited to her brothers and her mother always seem to do just fine in the house without her. Of course, this got her in trouble a lot and her lip didn't make things better for herself, but she was never a fan of getting up at dawn for work anyway. With Laeva being difficult, her parents agreed to send her off to court and become a lady-in-waiting. Laeva lasted about two months before she slipped out from the lord's castle and started wandering the streets as a urchin, quickly being picked up by an older homeless man.
Thankfully it wasn't in a creepy way as it was more of a instructor-student guardianship as Laeva could not have met a better person. The man had served previously under a distant lord but was disgraced and exiled after he was discovered to be having an affair with the lord's wife, though many would consider he got off easy for being the lord's previous friend. In Laeva, the ex-swordsman saw the potential for his legacy to carry on in that girl but more significantly, a chance for him to live out his fantasy of having a family as that was no longer possible for him. The swordsman would go on to train Laeva for three years before recommending her to the tournament circuit. To his surprise, she took on his name at the tournaments. Apollo.
Laeva, under the pseudonym of her former teacher, did impressively well in tournaments. It was nice, for a time, as Laeva was kind of free in between tournaments and even then, only participated when she had to. Unfortunately, the tournaments ended abruptly when a coup on the kingdom of Iris was carried out. Now with the lords of Iris potentially at each others throats, there just isn't time for tournaments anymore so Laeva was a bit out of work at the moment.
Class: Myrmidon
Optional: Stat Spread+Growth Percentages: Stats are: HP Str Mag Def Res Skl Luck Spd(Max total % is 320 minimum 5 in each stat, Roll Each stat 8 times to determine starting stats, Minimum 2 for any stat but luck, start with 8 HP before rolls) |
49,207 | 1,329 | 0 | 2,253 | 659 | Ward HQ
Nathan sighed as he paged through the patrol sheets. He had just about enough of the Wards, and their childish antics. He was 22, so he was lucky to be a PRT official, but he had to babysit these damn Wards from dawn till dusk. Well not quite dawn till dusk per se, since they were still schooled nearby, but the point remains. He had to setup their patrol times, make sure they were eating, schedule their required therapy; The works. Still his salary made the babysitting well worth it, even if capes did make him more then a little uncomfortable. Some of their powers were just. . . Insane. He couldn't put into words the absolute terror he tended to feel when they demonstrated, indirectly, all the ways they could slaughter humans like sheep.
Nathan shook his head to disperse the fear, gathered the files, and walking into the Ward's living quarters. He wore a simple dress shirt, and slacks, with a PRT badge on his right breast, and a name tag pinned on the left. He had a taser, in holster on his right hip, with an actual pistol on his left. He was left handed, and the more perceptive Wards always noticed. He walked over to Chroma's bed, and set down a patrol schedule. A patrol was scheduled for 4:30, where he'd be accompanied by a cape named Scarlet. He put the next file on Scarlet's bed, detailing the same patrol, but with names reversed.
He looked around the room quickly. It was a hexagonal room with small rooms branching off from it. Past the wood doors that closed off these small room was where the Wards slept. Inside was decorated as they pleased, and in total there were 6 doors in this one room. A sign normally hung on their door, spelling out their names and various other things. The room between was a sort of wreck room, with a ping pong table, an old school arcade machine, a tv, a couch, etc. Most things kids liked to do in their free time was stuffed into this room. There was even a bookshelf, filled to the brim with new books replacing read books every week or so.
After he finished putting the various other files on top of the other Ward's bed sheets, he checked the time, noting that the Ward's would arrive within minutes. Those who didn't live at the building would still stop by to check when their various patrols would be. Nathan walked out of the room, shrugging past Scarlett and Chroma, masks already on. Though their faces were known to each other as the Ward's rarely hid that from team members. He didn't meet their eyes, but instead continued staring straight ahead, keeping the relationship with all Wards professional was not only expected; It was a job requirement.
A lot of Wards died on the job after all.
Blackout's HQ
Ryan was absolutely exhausted already. He had his Kevlar gear on, excluding helmet, and was practicing with a knife. The instructor had left for the night, but had told him to train in full gear to get used to the knife's (and clothing's) weight. As such, Ryan was hacking and slashing away at a small training dummy in the middle of the room, shredding it with every strike of the razor sharp weapon.
He was also appreciating the surreal situation he was in. Combat lessons, armor, guns. . . Utilities; Boss provided it all, no questions asked. He gave him all these resources on top of an amazing weekly salary. Looking around Ryan could see a tv in the corner, with a fridge on the other side of a crumbling wall. He had a couch across from the tv, normally sat on when watching said tv. He even had a mannequin to put his armor on when not in use, though it could easily be replaced as it had no insignia on it.
Despite all this Ryan was anxious. He had running water, a shower, a bed a place to live, any luxury, and no questions were asked. The Boss was helping him for seemingly nothing. He had to do a few robberies for the man, and was asked to recruit any parahumans he found, but other then that. . . Ryan lost his train of thought as he realized he'd been resorting to an old habit when he got stressed. He sighed and spoke out loud to himself, as he was taught to do. "I feel anxious, because I am in a situation I don't understand," As he said the last word he stabbed the knife into the dummy's eye, and started taking his armor off piece by piece. | Real name:
Vince Kiran
(He is publicly known to be a ward)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Though in clothed profile he may appear normal, below his collarbone are intricate black lines, almost like tattoos but with more depth. At his chest they make simple elegant curves, but turn into more primitive hard lines as they go over his arms and hands. They are warmer then his body temperature, and have small cracks within them. He is clearly Caucasian.
Hero/Villian name:
Scourge
Affiliation:
Ward member
Biography:
Vince had an average life for a child raised by parents who are in the top one percent, though his parents were strict. He had to focus on his studies almost exclusively, leading to a sort of scholarly isolation. It didn't jade Vince though, as it was the only life he knew, and he never noticed how other kids had parties in the afternoon while he instead had study sessions. Where other students would watch movies, he would instead read "Catcher in the Rye," and as such isolation became a fact of life. Even his parents ignored him, always expecting perfection, and though content to observe it in their son, not surprised.
All through elementary school, middle school, and currently most of high school he has had perfect grades. Never less then one hundred percent, and often more when possible. Brute force met all schoolwork head on, and Vince always won. Loneliness became so common that his parents finally started to worry when he was sixteen. They decided he needed to find something to strive for besides good grades, oblivious to the fact that it was their fault he had embraced such isolation. They payed the hefty fee required, and Vince got his powers artificially through Cauldron. He chose an unstable enough formula to be considered a case 53. At first the change was small enough to not matter, a small black indent on his chest, but as Vince used his power more, the indent became an intricate structure across his entire body.
At seventeen currently, Vince is a member of the Wards. He seems to be the odd one out though as he rarely signs up for extra patrols, and continues his scholarly pursuits. He is viewed as weird at school, and has expressed no interest, currently, in any gender, or material object besides grades. Currently he does, as his parent wished, strive for one thing: Justice. Despite the Powers being his parent's idea, they still view him as a monster currently, secretly resenting his less then pristine appearance.
Personality:
Vince is a very reserved individual, and his presence is easily forgotten in the midst of conversation. However he has no problem participating in dialogue, he doesn't go out of his way to contribute information. He is admittedly dull witted, and rarely makes jokes, or apprecietes them. He is a fan of one-liners though.
Residence:
Private residence in gated community.
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
Normally a grey hoodie, and sweats. When he is on a serious patrol he will take fireproof Tinker made gear.
Power:
Vince is a pyrokinetic, and is able to generate flames from his mouth, and from the black lines across his body. Unfortunately items touching him are not fire proof in the least. The hotter Vince gets, the more black lines spread across his body (They started forming from the chest.) He is only able to control fire within thirty meters of himself, and can only make the flame as hot as 180 Celsius, though he can generate this heat from seemingly nowhere. Vince also has a very deep understanding of how heat will spread throughout a 3D space (Given he has seen all parts to the space.) As such he can easily trap criminals without actually harming them. He can even suspend fire in mid air using his pyrokinesis. The hotter his external body temperature the more resilient he becomes. At his maximum heat he becomes completely bulletproof, though his eyesight does suffer, and his reaction time is dulled.
Power range:
Exponentially decreases in power strength at range.
Power safeguards:
Fireproof, and can survive longer without oxygen then most humans, also doesn't panic when he can't breathe.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 2
Blaster: 3
Striker: 6
Breaker: 6
Shaker: 6
Weapons:
None |
49,208 | 1,329 | 1 | 732 | 8,842 | Crummy Apartment
Regus woke up staring at the ceiling as most people did. He hadn't woken for any particular reason. Shutters were closed, no alarm clock, no noisy neighbor in the building breaking something. He didn't have to do anything today. The bank he robbed a few days ago had given him plenty of money. Regus could literally sit around doing nothing for who knows how long and be fine. What an odd thought. He didn't have school, parents to order him around, worse a gang to beat on him, or a job to go to.
No life to worry about at all. Regus sat up a little and lazily clawed for the remote on the nightstand next to his bed with his still slightly gimp left arm and turned on the television, watching the news for a bit, then idly flipping through the channels. In his other hand he held a small rock he'd picked up, squishing it and reforming it like it was play-dough. Maybe some people thought there was more to life than this but right now the gig looked pretty nice. Life was good. Not great, just good. | Real name:
Regus Exavius (Identity as villain, Unknown)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Typically wears dull gray or black clothes, comfortable sweatpants he can run in and basic sneakers. Also wears these under his costume.
Hero/Villian name:
Drho
Affiliation:
Evil
Biography:
Regus was born in Chicago, both his parents safe and sound. His mother was a smart women who wasn't keen on doing work. As a result she managed to latch onto a very wealthy business man who happened to be short on family. Regus was pampered to his heart's content in his childhood, just not by his parents. His father was always far too busy with, well business, and his mother was always out spending her husband's money on feeding her addictions and going to parties. Not that she told him, to his father's knowledge his mother was either caring for Regus or running errands. Not to say Regus wasn't happy, quite the opposite. Like his mother his free time was greatly enhanced by his father's money. The newest game system, nicest clothes, best food. You name it Regus had it. School was easy both ways for him, Regus's natural intelligence and influential father gave him good grades and better friends, both with little effort. Regus's life was a gilded road, perfect student, star of the swim team, likable. Life was good. Then it slowly became not.
Regus was pampered not stupid. He noticed that things stopped becoming quite so gilded. He didn't ride to school in a limo anymore. Christmas was no longer a showering of gifts, barely a light drizzle. Forced smiles and nervous glances the few times they had family dinners. When his parents thought he was asleep or didn't care there were furious shouting matches.They were in debt. Regus's grades began slipping as his classes got harder and his focus dropped. He'd seen enough TV to know what was going on. Divorce was all be inevitable. Or it would've been if his father hadn't died of a stroke. At least that's what the police concluded. Regus knew better of course. His mother knew people. All kinds of people. He'd seen her come home with the powder, at first he thought it was just another one of her drugs. Then he saw her slip it in the wine. Addicting his father too? It'd come together when his father convulsed, dying within minutes. Regus knew had happened. The mansion they lived in was sold off, everything in it. They rented a sleezy apartment and his mother continued her lifestyle, living off her husbands money, searching for someone else when she burnt through that.
She never got that far though. After she'd done an admirable job of burning through nearly all of her funds she'd gotten herself arrested. It was a life sentence for several compiled offences. Ranging from possession and intent to sell all the way to murder. Not his father's but for several others. Regus was surprised, he'd known his mother wasn't the best person and had killed his father, but he hadn't known she'd killed others. Not perhaps it shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. Regardless Regus was left in a lurch. He'd barely managed to graduate, didn't have any job skills, and was practically penniless. Regus ended up joining a gang, only half by choice. They'd been very insistent in recruiting him and leaving wasn't really an option for him. After going through his initiation he quickly found out you were either all in or all out. And once you were all in, you didn't get out. The crew had a couple of capes leading it. After several months of reluctantly committing crimes and doing as little as he could get away with.
Then one morning he woke up in a metal box. It barely fit him, his legs were curled up to his chest with hardly an inch of space to move in any given direction. Several hours of screaming until his voice grew hoarse bore no result. He clawed as best he could at the walls trapping him until his fingers bleed but it bore no result. Regus was in there for days. He never found out how long. Sometime in the haze of cramped limbs, gasping for air, and the headache ringing through his skull it got worse. A metal spike was driven through the metal box skewering his arm. And another one right next to it. Regus thought he couldn't scream anymore, he'd been wrong. When he woke up he found the metal box looked like it melted around him, in solidified lumps on the ground around him. The spike wasn't there anymore either. Regus shakily got to hands and knees, then looked around. There was a chair, with a half eaten sandwich on the ground to it. He was in some random alleyway. He crawled to the sandwich and devoured it. There was still a hole in his arm that had somehow managed to stop bleeding. Regus managed to get to his feet leaning against a wall for support. A wallet. There was a wallet on the chair. Regus snatched it and rifled through it, nearly a hundred bucks, enough to survive for a while. He managed to stagger his way into a cafe and get some more food, funny looks aside, it was Chicago, they'd seen worse.
He managed to find out that his gang had gotten taken down at one of the big meetings. The PRT had gone full force on them and no one had made it out. Still didn't explain what he'd been doing in a metal box with a hole through his arm. He used the reminder of the money on medical supplies as best he could to patch up his arm. Then he found out his power. He'd wearily leaned against a bench to rest, still drained from the experience and the bench bent beneath his weight like playdoh. Several experiments later he'd confirmed it. He had powers. Regus must've had a trigger event in that hellish box. Over the next few days Regus consumed his food supply and tested the extent of his powers. With no money, no one he knew, and nothing else to go on. Crime came naturally. When you could nearly literally walk through walls, stealing was easy. At first it was small things. Food, jewelry, but then he experimented more with power. Become used to it. He got easier and the prizes he took bigger and more valuable. Regus wasn't surviving anymore, he was living. Better off than any other seventeen year old he knew. Of course he didn't really know any so the point was moot.
Personality:
Regus is as you might expect, somewhat disillusioned with the world. People suck. However Regus isn't what he would call a bad person. He doesn't go out his way to make people's lives suck. His difficult life has given him an amazing amount of tenacity as well as a distrust of people. Regus is very confident in himself and his abilities but always tries to have a backup plan. Overall he gives off a lazy impression but this is more to deceive people than anything else.
A passing glance won't reveal his self-assurance in the way he carries himself, however when he is caped its quite clear. Still new to the villain business Regus is out for himself, not actively hurting anyone per say, just looking out for himself. Luckily he's managed to avoid any major confrontations with any capes or police force but he knows it won't last for long. He's prepared to do whatever it takes if that becomes the case. Though he hopes it won't come to that.
Residence:
Crummy Apartment
Parental status:
Father dead, Mother in jail.
Costume:
Long flowing black robes to conceal his identity and for use with his power. Also wears a demon face-mask
Power:
Regus can manipulate an object's density. The most frequent thing he does with this is makes things soft, like puddy, so he can push, squish, and reshape them. This allows him to go through conventional barriers with ease by softening them and tearing them apart. In addition he can use it to make things more stiff. For example he could make clothing have the rigidness of a brick, that is to say it doesn't move anymore it remains solid against any force that pushes against it.
This allows him to immobilize people rather easily by hardening their clothes. This effect wears off after around ten minutes or if Regus removes the effects. Regus can do something like puddy-ify a TV and squish into a ball then reform it, but he wouldn't be able to change the dimensions into say a bigger TV, or turn it into another piece of machinery, though this is more a lack of knowledge than ability. The same applies to other objects. Manton effect applies.
Power range:
1 meter around his body 2 meter through contact of modified objects. Constant throughout effected area.
Power safeguards:N/A
PRT ranking:
Changer: 8
Stranger: 2
Brute:6
Striker: 5
Weapons:
A bullwhip
Misc: |
49,209 | 1,329 | 2 | 2,253 | 659 | Outside of Crummy Apartment
The courier approached the door to Regus's apartment. He knocked twice quickly, before leaving. He didn't run, but he made it around the corner before Regus opened the door. The package he had left by the door had "From the Boss" on it, written with a sharpie. The contents were very neatly laid out; a black jump suit, kind of loose fitting, but it was the right size of Regus. A black hoodie and sweats were also contained, for warmth most likely. A black mask was found at the very bottom, a simple gold design sat on top of the black base, making it more ornate then not. It would cover Regus's eyes and mouth. A manila envelope was enclosed inside, with three papers. One was a picture of Regus's face from a security camera, with his face circled in red. The next was a document explaining the nature of the crime, with red marker underlining a part of the document that read ". . .reviewing the security tapes did not reveal the perpetrator's identity, despite extensive. . ." and the third document was a simple handwritten letter. that read:
Dear Regus:
I'm not trying to threaten you. I'd like to establish that first and foremost. Consider everything contained in this package a gift, completely free of charge. Though I daresay after your recent adventure, you could buy any of these things easily. Unfortunately, you could hardly buy them anonymously, and therein lies the reason I have delivered these to you. You'll notice from the other two documents that I deleted some security camera footage depicting your face. I have done all of this in goodwill, and to request a favor. I want you to work for me. You will simply call me the boss if you choose to work with me. In exchange for doing the small jobs I request you will gain a sum of money no less then $200,000 dollars a week. Along with this sum of money you will also acquire any resources you need access to.
If you prove especially useful you will acquire the right to join a small squad. This elite squad of fellow parahumans will be in the same situation as you, and will never betray you. I can guarantee that.
If you are interested, don the mask in this package, wear the clothes, and rob the the nearest bank. Afterwards, leave through the back of the vault, where a car will pick you up. If you do all this, you will be awarded a base sum of $1,000,000 plus 10% of all money you steal.
Thank you for reading this letter. If you reject my offer, tear all the paper in this package in half. If however I have gained your interest, preform the crime I have detailed. Don't bother giving this paper to any Wards, PRT officials, or thinkers. A thinker-precog wrote this, making it impossible to be tracked by any and all personal you could possibly find.
Kindly, The boss
At the very bottom of the package was a brand new laptop.
The courier was killed an hour later while delivering mail. A single gunshot wound to the head. | Real name:
Vince Kiran
(He is publicly known to be a ward)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Though in clothed profile he may appear normal, below his collarbone are intricate black lines, almost like tattoos but with more depth. At his chest they make simple elegant curves, but turn into more primitive hard lines as they go over his arms and hands. They are warmer then his body temperature, and have small cracks within them. He is clearly Caucasian.
Hero/Villian name:
Scourge
Affiliation:
Ward member
Biography:
Vince had an average life for a child raised by parents who are in the top one percent, though his parents were strict. He had to focus on his studies almost exclusively, leading to a sort of scholarly isolation. It didn't jade Vince though, as it was the only life he knew, and he never noticed how other kids had parties in the afternoon while he instead had study sessions. Where other students would watch movies, he would instead read "Catcher in the Rye," and as such isolation became a fact of life. Even his parents ignored him, always expecting perfection, and though content to observe it in their son, not surprised.
All through elementary school, middle school, and currently most of high school he has had perfect grades. Never less then one hundred percent, and often more when possible. Brute force met all schoolwork head on, and Vince always won. Loneliness became so common that his parents finally started to worry when he was sixteen. They decided he needed to find something to strive for besides good grades, oblivious to the fact that it was their fault he had embraced such isolation. They payed the hefty fee required, and Vince got his powers artificially through Cauldron. He chose an unstable enough formula to be considered a case 53. At first the change was small enough to not matter, a small black indent on his chest, but as Vince used his power more, the indent became an intricate structure across his entire body.
At seventeen currently, Vince is a member of the Wards. He seems to be the odd one out though as he rarely signs up for extra patrols, and continues his scholarly pursuits. He is viewed as weird at school, and has expressed no interest, currently, in any gender, or material object besides grades. Currently he does, as his parent wished, strive for one thing: Justice. Despite the Powers being his parent's idea, they still view him as a monster currently, secretly resenting his less then pristine appearance.
Personality:
Vince is a very reserved individual, and his presence is easily forgotten in the midst of conversation. However he has no problem participating in dialogue, he doesn't go out of his way to contribute information. He is admittedly dull witted, and rarely makes jokes, or apprecietes them. He is a fan of one-liners though.
Residence:
Private residence in gated community.
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
Normally a grey hoodie, and sweats. When he is on a serious patrol he will take fireproof Tinker made gear.
Power:
Vince is a pyrokinetic, and is able to generate flames from his mouth, and from the black lines across his body. Unfortunately items touching him are not fire proof in the least. The hotter Vince gets, the more black lines spread across his body (They started forming from the chest.) He is only able to control fire within thirty meters of himself, and can only make the flame as hot as 180 Celsius, though he can generate this heat from seemingly nowhere. Vince also has a very deep understanding of how heat will spread throughout a 3D space (Given he has seen all parts to the space.) As such he can easily trap criminals without actually harming them. He can even suspend fire in mid air using his pyrokinesis. The hotter his external body temperature the more resilient he becomes. At his maximum heat he becomes completely bulletproof, though his eyesight does suffer, and his reaction time is dulled.
Power range:
Exponentially decreases in power strength at range.
Power safeguards:
Fireproof, and can survive longer without oxygen then most humans, also doesn't panic when he can't breathe.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 2
Blaster: 3
Striker: 6
Breaker: 6
Shaker: 6
Weapons:
None |
49,210 | 1,329 | 3 | 97 | 637 | A Street Unknown, and Eventually, An Abandoned Warehouse
Serephina wandered up and down the city streets with her beloved feline padding behind her, occasionally running off to chase a moving something she saw out of the corner of her eye. "Come back here you!" Serephina yelled with a smile. She loved this cat more than anything or anyone in the world. Odette was all she had left. The speckled gray and black feline obeyed her master's commands and came running back. As she always did, Odette sat down at her feet and waited for Serephina's command to jump and be caught in her arms. "Get up here." she said softly. Immediately, Odette jumped straight up and was caught in a cradling position.
They continued to wander the same direction until the buildings got more and more sparse. She was on the more dangerous side of Chicago. This place's crime rate was sky high so she was a tad scared wandering through this area with nothing more than a cat and a small, rusty hunting knife. She only needed to move fast, and stay out of sight, two of the things she was best at. Her plan was to get out of town but stay close just in case she needed something important from a store. She never stole money or any large value items. Her criminal instinct wasn't that strong and she always felt guilty stealing the food she had to. But she had come to grips with the fact that it needed to be done and she couldn't change her situation. Not easily anyway. It wasn't worth going back to her grandparent's house which she hated so much. She could make it on her own just fine. She had for a long time.
Odette had fallen asleep in Serephina's arms, as she always did, and was purring loudly. In the quiet of the empty streets, her purr sounded like a tank rolling over a gravel road. That sound had never failed to calm her. She hadn't realized how far she had walked untill she looked up, and was approaching an abandoned warehouse that looked a little scary. This was however, too good to be true. Here she was wandering around with her cat, with no place to go and she should stumble upon this? Things seemed to be going better than they normally did for her.
She woke Odette with a gentle tap on her forehead and ordered her to jump in the open pouch of her backpack where she always hid when she needed to be out of Serephina's way. She jumped in without hesitation and poked her head out in excitement about the new scenery around her. Serephina crouched low and ran up to the right side of the building and looked behind it. Nothing. She peeked her head around the corner where the front door should be. She was expecting to see a big, heavy door that looked like what belonged on a barn but there was no door at all. Could this get any easier? Serephina scoffed at the simplicity of the situation and sauntered into the place with confidence. It looked exactly like an abandoned warehouse should: cold stone floors that were cracked from time without renewal or purposeful damage and walls that were so rotted and old that they looked like they could collapse on her at any second. However she was confused as to why the wooden supports were in such good condition. How does that work? She then noticed there was a flight of stairs in one corner of the room that ascended upward. She wondered what was up there. . . "Odette, go see!" she whispered and pointed in the direction of the stairs. As commanded, Odette jumped out of the backpack, crawled over to the first step and bounded up to the fifth. Her mouth was wide open to check for any scents. Her ears were fully extended and turning every which way to pick up any sounds but she found nothing. She looked back at Serephina and uttered a small squeak to let her know the coast was clear. Serephina grabbed her backpack and walked rather quickly over to the stairs. These things looked like a death trap all on their own. She wasn't even sure they could hold her weight. Thinking she could make it if she didn't stay on one step for too long, she decided now would be a good time to use her speed.
She closed her eyes, preparing to use her power and felt the ground sink under her feet as she gathered the energy she needed. Then she released it with an explosive gust of air and the next thing she knew, she was at the top of the stairs. Her powers came in handy in situations like this. Odette gracefully climbed the stairs and came to a rest at Serephina's feet. She meowed loudly. "Hush! We don't know who or what could be in here. Do you want to be caught and eaten?" Serephina whispered harshly. Odette laid down and tucked her paws under her in a nonchalant manner as if she hadn't done anything wrong.
Serephina wandered around the new floor she was on and noticed that it was in a tad bit better condition than the first. There was however, different gangs' graffiti on the walls. She admired graffiti. To most people, it was idiotic vandalism, but to her, it was art. As she was taking in the scene around her, she noticed a rather large door. She approached and examined it while Odette watched her. Whatever was behind this door, she wanted in. | Real name:
Serephina Mayhem
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Tall, skinny but with proportionate curves. Has many small scars from self harm and freckles in all the usual places. Has dark brown hair, green eyes and fair colored skin. Very strong boned and has a lot of force behind her body weight.
Is it public knowledge that your character is a cape?:
No
Hero/Villain name:
To be decided
Affiliation:
Rouge
Biography:
When she was first born, her mother took care of her for a couple months but then abandoned her with her boyfriend’s brother’s family where she was severely abused for 2 and a half years. She has never met her real father and plans to look for him whenever she can get to a bigger city where someone can help her. Her first trigger event was one specific day when her antagonizers came down into the basement where she was being held and proceeded to beat her with what was called a “morning star” for more than 2 hours.
Serephina's trigger event happened after her attackers left the basement. When the lights were shut off, she noticed that she could see perfectly in the pitch blackness and hear what her attackers were talking about upstairs no matter how far away from her they were. It didn't matter because they were all in the same house. Her being simply a year and a half old when it happened, she didn't know what she was capable of until she was taken into her grandparent's custody and accidentally stumbled on her super speed power when running away from a rattlesnake that was trying to strike her.
She discovered her hologram when she was a freshman in high school. Serephina had a bully that would corner her in the halls during passing period and try to harm her. One time, when she was being bullied, she closed her eyes and prepared to receive a punch in the stomach when she noticed that nothing had happened. She opened her eyes and there was what looked like a twin of herself holding the girl in a headlock. The hologram motioned for her to run and that's what she did. (It cannot speak.)
(Outside character knowledge:) I would also like to add some things about my hologram. it is my strongest power. When the hologram is protecting her, no one else but her, can see it. For instance, if someone tries to attack her and Serephina activates her hologram, it will simply look like the attack is hitting an unidentified force. It also has the ability to cover Serephina in a bubble like force field that blocks all sound frequencies from penetrating it. The hologram does not take damage. I want it to have one weakness but I have yet to decide what that is yet.
She was also never fed. After the horror was ended when her grandparents took her into their home, she from there on she had disassociation syndrome. This is a disease that affects your relationships with others. A person with this mental condition does not feel strong emotions towards very many people or things. When they get attached to someone however, they will never let go and will be very loyal. Everyone else however, they will be completely numb to and have no feelings of love or attachment. All through middle school and high school, she never fit in with anyone except a few of the social outcasts that made her feel like she could be herself. But when those friends moved away, she had nothing left in school so she dropped out her junior year.
Soon after dropping out, she left home. She packed her stuff in the middle of the night, left a note saying that she left and was never seen again by her grandparents. The police looked for for a year but then gave up when they found nothing. Her cat is the only thing she has that means the world to her and loves. She has trained her cat to follow her wherever she goes, come when she is called and obey certain commands.
Personality:
Quiet when you first meet her but if she lets you get close to her, she becomes more comfortable and outgoing with you. Very argumentative and questions everything everyone says. She does not take anyone's word for anything. Very helpful when she sees others struggling and she knows she can help but she will not befriend anyone she helps. Friends come to her. Not the other way around. Keeps to herself mostly of the time but is polite and mildly friendly if approached.
Residence:
Doesn't have a home. She makes camp wherever she finds a safe place to rest for the night. She would rather wander alone than be at her Grandparent’s house.
Parental status:
Orphan. Her mother is alive but she has nothing to do with her and she has never met her real dad.
Costume:
She wears thin sneakers most of the time as opposed to other kinds of shoes so she is not weighed down when she runs. When she knows she might have to climb something or trudge through something difficult, she switches over to a pair of hiking boots which she carries in her backpack. She wears a dark green hoodie zipped up and something similar to yoga pants. She has implanted another layer of cloth on top of the original to keep her warm in whatever cold weather she encounters.
Power:
As a result of her abuse as a child, her power revolves around protection and flight skills. If she is in a bad situation and wants to leave, she can become invisible for a short enough period of time for her to get herself a good distance away from the situation. The higher her sense of danger or adrenaline, the longer her invisibility can stay active. Anything she holds will also be invisible. She also has super speed and the ability to create a twin hologram to protect her when she cannot protect herself. Her speed is an 80% increase than her normal running speed. This hologram can pick things up and move them to places Serephina wants her to. It cannot however go through solid objects. Whatever the hologram sees, Serephina sees. She can control what the hologram does, or let it act on it’s own. It has a database of several offensive and defensive battle techniques and its only purpose is to keep Serephina alive. It cannot take damage except for it's one weakness (which someone will figure out eventually.) Lastly, she has heightened hearing and sight. Heightened sight meaning she can see in the dark and see farther away than most people can. Her hearing has a farther distance range and higher frequency range than most normal people.
Power range:
Her powers have no distance limit except her hologram. It will shut down if she is more than 150 feet away from it after it is created.
Power safeguards:
Her powers only activate when she is in danger, or when her adrenaline levels are very high.
PRT ranking:
Mover: 5
Thinker: 3
Master: 0
Stranger: 7
Weapons:
Small hunting knife
Misc:
She carries a backpack with her wherever she goes that contains things she has stolen and her changes of socks, shoes and other clothing items from her past home. Her cat also hides in this backpack when Serephina wants her to. |
49,211 | 1,329 | 4 | 732 | 8,842 | Inside of Crummy Apartment
Regus jumped a little at the knock. Nobody knocked on his door. Nobody knew him. Was it because of the bank? Regus threw on a shirt and shorts and cautiously walked up to the door peeking through the peephole. Just a package? Still highly suspicious Regus grabbed it and ducked back inside, setting it on his bed rummaging through it. Whoever the 'Boss' was it seemed he'd taken an unhealthy interest in Regus. He set the clothes and the nice mask aside and opened the envelope.
A cold chill ran through him at the sight of his face circled and the careful documentation of the crime. Then the last piece of paper, the letter. 200 thousand a week!? Not to mention the literal million bucks if he completed the job. This 'Boss' had far too much money to be throwing it around like that. The brief thought that this was a set-up quickly left. If this Boss had wanted him in jail it looked like it wouldn't be very hard for him to have it arranged. Regus read through the letter again, looked at the clothes, examined the laptop.
Too good to pass up. All he had to do was rob a bank and do some odd jobs? Heck he'd already robbed a bank, though like the letter said, spending his money without drawing attention might be difficult and he hadn't even tried it yet. Regus booted up the laptop and googled the closest bank. Last time he'd been desperate and had gotten lucky and even then he'd gotten caught by the security cameras. This time he'd go in with a plan. | Real name:
Regus Exavius (Identity as villain, Unknown)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Typically wears dull gray or black clothes, comfortable sweatpants he can run in and basic sneakers. Also wears these under his costume.
Hero/Villian name:
Drho
Affiliation:
Evil
Biography:
Regus was born in Chicago, both his parents safe and sound. His mother was a smart women who wasn't keen on doing work. As a result she managed to latch onto a very wealthy business man who happened to be short on family. Regus was pampered to his heart's content in his childhood, just not by his parents. His father was always far too busy with, well business, and his mother was always out spending her husband's money on feeding her addictions and going to parties. Not that she told him, to his father's knowledge his mother was either caring for Regus or running errands. Not to say Regus wasn't happy, quite the opposite. Like his mother his free time was greatly enhanced by his father's money. The newest game system, nicest clothes, best food. You name it Regus had it. School was easy both ways for him, Regus's natural intelligence and influential father gave him good grades and better friends, both with little effort. Regus's life was a gilded road, perfect student, star of the swim team, likable. Life was good. Then it slowly became not.
Regus was pampered not stupid. He noticed that things stopped becoming quite so gilded. He didn't ride to school in a limo anymore. Christmas was no longer a showering of gifts, barely a light drizzle. Forced smiles and nervous glances the few times they had family dinners. When his parents thought he was asleep or didn't care there were furious shouting matches.They were in debt. Regus's grades began slipping as his classes got harder and his focus dropped. He'd seen enough TV to know what was going on. Divorce was all be inevitable. Or it would've been if his father hadn't died of a stroke. At least that's what the police concluded. Regus knew better of course. His mother knew people. All kinds of people. He'd seen her come home with the powder, at first he thought it was just another one of her drugs. Then he saw her slip it in the wine. Addicting his father too? It'd come together when his father convulsed, dying within minutes. Regus knew had happened. The mansion they lived in was sold off, everything in it. They rented a sleezy apartment and his mother continued her lifestyle, living off her husbands money, searching for someone else when she burnt through that.
She never got that far though. After she'd done an admirable job of burning through nearly all of her funds she'd gotten herself arrested. It was a life sentence for several compiled offences. Ranging from possession and intent to sell all the way to murder. Not his father's but for several others. Regus was surprised, he'd known his mother wasn't the best person and had killed his father, but he hadn't known she'd killed others. Not perhaps it shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. Regardless Regus was left in a lurch. He'd barely managed to graduate, didn't have any job skills, and was practically penniless. Regus ended up joining a gang, only half by choice. They'd been very insistent in recruiting him and leaving wasn't really an option for him. After going through his initiation he quickly found out you were either all in or all out. And once you were all in, you didn't get out. The crew had a couple of capes leading it. After several months of reluctantly committing crimes and doing as little as he could get away with.
Then one morning he woke up in a metal box. It barely fit him, his legs were curled up to his chest with hardly an inch of space to move in any given direction. Several hours of screaming until his voice grew hoarse bore no result. He clawed as best he could at the walls trapping him until his fingers bleed but it bore no result. Regus was in there for days. He never found out how long. Sometime in the haze of cramped limbs, gasping for air, and the headache ringing through his skull it got worse. A metal spike was driven through the metal box skewering his arm. And another one right next to it. Regus thought he couldn't scream anymore, he'd been wrong. When he woke up he found the metal box looked like it melted around him, in solidified lumps on the ground around him. The spike wasn't there anymore either. Regus shakily got to hands and knees, then looked around. There was a chair, with a half eaten sandwich on the ground to it. He was in some random alleyway. He crawled to the sandwich and devoured it. There was still a hole in his arm that had somehow managed to stop bleeding. Regus managed to get to his feet leaning against a wall for support. A wallet. There was a wallet on the chair. Regus snatched it and rifled through it, nearly a hundred bucks, enough to survive for a while. He managed to stagger his way into a cafe and get some more food, funny looks aside, it was Chicago, they'd seen worse.
He managed to find out that his gang had gotten taken down at one of the big meetings. The PRT had gone full force on them and no one had made it out. Still didn't explain what he'd been doing in a metal box with a hole through his arm. He used the reminder of the money on medical supplies as best he could to patch up his arm. Then he found out his power. He'd wearily leaned against a bench to rest, still drained from the experience and the bench bent beneath his weight like playdoh. Several experiments later he'd confirmed it. He had powers. Regus must've had a trigger event in that hellish box. Over the next few days Regus consumed his food supply and tested the extent of his powers. With no money, no one he knew, and nothing else to go on. Crime came naturally. When you could nearly literally walk through walls, stealing was easy. At first it was small things. Food, jewelry, but then he experimented more with power. Become used to it. He got easier and the prizes he took bigger and more valuable. Regus wasn't surviving anymore, he was living. Better off than any other seventeen year old he knew. Of course he didn't really know any so the point was moot.
Personality:
Regus is as you might expect, somewhat disillusioned with the world. People suck. However Regus isn't what he would call a bad person. He doesn't go out his way to make people's lives suck. His difficult life has given him an amazing amount of tenacity as well as a distrust of people. Regus is very confident in himself and his abilities but always tries to have a backup plan. Overall he gives off a lazy impression but this is more to deceive people than anything else.
A passing glance won't reveal his self-assurance in the way he carries himself, however when he is caped its quite clear. Still new to the villain business Regus is out for himself, not actively hurting anyone per say, just looking out for himself. Luckily he's managed to avoid any major confrontations with any capes or police force but he knows it won't last for long. He's prepared to do whatever it takes if that becomes the case. Though he hopes it won't come to that.
Residence:
Crummy Apartment
Parental status:
Father dead, Mother in jail.
Costume:
Long flowing black robes to conceal his identity and for use with his power. Also wears a demon face-mask
Power:
Regus can manipulate an object's density. The most frequent thing he does with this is makes things soft, like puddy, so he can push, squish, and reshape them. This allows him to go through conventional barriers with ease by softening them and tearing them apart. In addition he can use it to make things more stiff. For example he could make clothing have the rigidness of a brick, that is to say it doesn't move anymore it remains solid against any force that pushes against it.
This allows him to immobilize people rather easily by hardening their clothes. This effect wears off after around ten minutes or if Regus removes the effects. Regus can do something like puddy-ify a TV and squish into a ball then reform it, but he wouldn't be able to change the dimensions into say a bigger TV, or turn it into another piece of machinery, though this is more a lack of knowledge than ability. The same applies to other objects. Manton effect applies.
Power range:
1 meter around his body 2 meter through contact of modified objects. Constant throughout effected area.
Power safeguards:N/A
PRT ranking:
Changer: 8
Stranger: 2
Brute:6
Striker: 5
Weapons:
A bullwhip
Misc: |
49,212 | 1,329 | 5 | 1,105 | 2,351 | Ward HQ
It was getting close to that time of day. The time of day when the Wards would be given their schedules for their duties as para-human protectors. It was Alex's least favorite part of his job, however. He would like nothing more than to have unrestricted freedom to patrol and pursue criminals as he pleases, something he would abuse to maximize his "showtime" if left up to him. But instead there was a much more weighted responsibility for the teenage Wards. They were given rules, regulations, orders, schedules. It was a pain, especially so for Alex due to his current probation status, but it was the price to pay if he wanted to play on the world stage. If he wasn't with the PRT, the "good guys", then he was a bad guy. And Alex couldn't be the bad guy. He defeats the bad guys.
And so here he is dressed in his costume that goes with his superhero alias, Chroma, heading back to his dormitory after a day of classes. Apparently the PRT values education. One of the men in charge, a guy who was barely in his 20's, was leaving the Ward dormitories as Alex entered. His eyes watched Nathan as they passed, waiting for him to show some sign of acknowledgement. But it never came. The teenager stopped and turned around, watching Nathan's back as he departed. "How rude," he grumbled aloud, letting out a sigh and shaking his head. "I guess those officials aren't friendly under any circumstances after all." As he walked into the main recreational room of the hexagonal dorm, Alex removed the masquerade mask from his face and held onto it with his left hand. "So let's see who gets to be my sidekick today..."
Once inside his room he was quick to set down his mask and pick up the sheet of paper that detailed his instructions for the day. "Four thirty, huh. Traffic hours. Bor-ring! But it seems Phoebe will be coming along. I suppose I should be calling her Scarlet, actually. But this might be a problem," Alex continued to talk to himself, sitting down on the bed as he continued glancing over the paper in his hands. "She isn't much of a sidekick type. If anything does happen she might try to steal my thunder. Not to mention that she'll get more attention than me naturally for being a girl. The people love heroines. What to do, what to do..." The teenager began rhythmically tapping his left foot on the floor as he contemplated how he would orchestrate today's patrol. "I suppose my only option is to be vigilant and enthusiastic. I just have to outperform her if the need arises."
"But we're gonna be watching rush hour traffic... Nothing is gonna happen..." | Real name:
Alex Rowland
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Hero/Villian name:
Chroma
Affiliation:
Good, Ward
Biography:
A young American teenager born and raised in San Francisco. His father was an artist of varying fields and his mother was an impressionable accountant. Alex was raised in a very liberal household that valued his strengths and ignored his weaknesses, leading to an inflated ego from a young age. They were not a wealthy family, as the only source of income came from his mother's steady job. His father was doing something different every year. One year he is an actor, another he is a painter, but no matter what he's doing it doesn't make money. Alex initially resented that part about his father, but in time he would be indoctrinated by his charismatic old man. Art wasn't meant to make profit, it was meant to entertain. Art was a way of life, not a job.
Alex would receive both Trigger Events simultaneously when he was fifteen and attended his father's very first art show. A culmination of his old man's entire life's works put on display for the public to see. Only it was not well received. It would be an understatement to say the high-class establishment that funded and hosted his event were displeased with his paintings' "child-like" qualities. A crowd gathered to mock and harass the Rowland family. The humiliation didn't stop with the art show, as drunk patrons awaited the Rowland family as they left that night and assaulted them in the street. They would've only attacked Alex's father, but young Alex was quick to succumb to his rage and jumped in. This resulted in the beating of a lifetime, putting him in the hospital alongside his father.
He didn't realize his powers for almost a month after the event, when he was mostly healed from the fight and out of the hospital. An angry Alex was quick to abuse this, destroying the building that catered to the dramatic art show that stained his father's reputation and almost killed the two of them. This put him on the PRT's radar and they approached his family the next day. They were willing to overlook his crime in order to form him into a true hero that could wield his powers wisely and safely. Alex saw this as an opportunity to become famous like his father could not. He accepted the proposal without haste, though his father demanded he wouldn't be taken to the Los Angeles department out of prejudice. The PRT granted their wish and instead sent Alex all the way to Chicago, Illinois. He has since become a Ward for the PRT, donning the alias of Chroma for his superhero acts.
Personality:
Some may be believe Alex to be a genuine and upstanding citizen with impeccable morals and a capacity for empathy. They would be gravely mistaken. Alex Rowland isn't just sly and conniving but incredibly full of himself. An egomaniac that uses justice as a means to parade his greatness. Life is like one big show to him and he's none other than the leading role. He finds himself to be a gift from God and behaves in an accordingly eccentric and extravagant way that often brings up questions of his sexuality. Despite caring for himself above all else he does have some morals, finding it easy to injure but difficult to kill. One can also say that he has decent self-control, but only when he puts on his mask. His arrogance puts off many people, but somehow it is overlooked whenever he dons his superhero costume.
Residence:
PRT Building
Parental status:
Both are alive and well living in San Francisco, California.
Costume:
A white full-body suit with white boots and gloves alongside a black masquerade mask to cover a large part of Alex's face, all the while his hair is slicked back. The costume has no inherent protection value.
Power:
Chromatic Overload - Alex has the power to change the colors of everything around him in the world. Likewise he can "create" his own "colors" that appear to be floating blobs of paint that can have diverse effects when they come into contact with a target. He can then fling these masses of color at his opponents as a means of combat. RED would burn, BLUE would drench, YELLOW would electrify, etc. The effects cannot be interchanged between colors as they are unique to their individual coloring. While most of his powers revolve around "adding" color, Alex also has the ability to "subtract" color which will turn the affected object or person invisible. The effects of Chromatic Overload's color-changing aspect can be negated by Trump powers or by exiting Alex's range, but the color that is created can only be removed by Alex or Trump powers, making their effects possibly permanent.
Power range:
100m general range. Colors can only be created and manipulated less than 1m away from his hands, afterwards it is entirely based on momentum and can no longer be controlled, only erased. Thrown colors cannot exit the 100m range unless they land on something, at which point they can. Colors can be changed at the full 100m range, same with removing colors. Changed colors that go beyond the 100m range will naturally revert to their natural colors without any intervention. Any object that has had its colors removed will also return to normal once it passes the 100m range.
Power safeguards:
Alex has complete immunity to his own powers. He cannot change his own colors, he cannot apply colors to himself, and he cannot take colors away from himself. This only applies to his body directly, as he can still use Chromatic Overload on his clothes and equipment just fine.
PRT ranking:
Blaster: 6
Striker: 3
Changer: 5
Stranger: 3
Weapons:
Alex carries no weapons. |
49,213 | 1,329 | 6 | 2,253 | 659 | Blackout's HQ
A rapid burst of three beeps, along with all three red light in the corners of the room flashing alerted Ryan to a trespasser. He froze and turned to the trapdoor while he pulsed his power twice. The pulse would disable any powers that required concentration, and would give him a bit of an advantage if it was a parahuman in the building.There was no padlock on the trapdoor. . . "Shit," He mumbled, confident he wouldn't be heard. The door was sound proof after all, and even insulated. Ryan pulled the knife out of the dummy, as he walked, slipping it into the holster on his left hip and covering it with his shirt as he moved towards the door. He knew right as he reached he door, he had to do it. His power swelled within him and he activated it as he opened the door.
To the mysterious girl he met the eyes of his presence would be known before he even opened the door. His form would be glowing through the door, his body visible and demanding recognition. The door then opened and he stood in front of her, seeming normal, no longer glowing now that she had direct eyesight. If she tried to activate her powers now, it would be useless. It'd be the equivalent of trying to reach through a brick wall. The same would happen with words; All forms of communication would escape her completely.
Ryan eyed her, and deactivated his power quickly to speak. "No funny business. Tell me why you're here. Don't use your power, if you have one, or I will disable it and kill you." He waited for her response in a non threatening stance, the knife hidden by his stance. Warm air rushed out from behind him, and with it the scent of pizza and coffee. The girl's angle would allow her to see a training dummy and a bed behind him, if she took her eyes off him. | Real name:
Vince Kiran
(He is publicly known to be a ward)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Though in clothed profile he may appear normal, below his collarbone are intricate black lines, almost like tattoos but with more depth. At his chest they make simple elegant curves, but turn into more primitive hard lines as they go over his arms and hands. They are warmer then his body temperature, and have small cracks within them. He is clearly Caucasian.
Hero/Villian name:
Scourge
Affiliation:
Ward member
Biography:
Vince had an average life for a child raised by parents who are in the top one percent, though his parents were strict. He had to focus on his studies almost exclusively, leading to a sort of scholarly isolation. It didn't jade Vince though, as it was the only life he knew, and he never noticed how other kids had parties in the afternoon while he instead had study sessions. Where other students would watch movies, he would instead read "Catcher in the Rye," and as such isolation became a fact of life. Even his parents ignored him, always expecting perfection, and though content to observe it in their son, not surprised.
All through elementary school, middle school, and currently most of high school he has had perfect grades. Never less then one hundred percent, and often more when possible. Brute force met all schoolwork head on, and Vince always won. Loneliness became so common that his parents finally started to worry when he was sixteen. They decided he needed to find something to strive for besides good grades, oblivious to the fact that it was their fault he had embraced such isolation. They payed the hefty fee required, and Vince got his powers artificially through Cauldron. He chose an unstable enough formula to be considered a case 53. At first the change was small enough to not matter, a small black indent on his chest, but as Vince used his power more, the indent became an intricate structure across his entire body.
At seventeen currently, Vince is a member of the Wards. He seems to be the odd one out though as he rarely signs up for extra patrols, and continues his scholarly pursuits. He is viewed as weird at school, and has expressed no interest, currently, in any gender, or material object besides grades. Currently he does, as his parent wished, strive for one thing: Justice. Despite the Powers being his parent's idea, they still view him as a monster currently, secretly resenting his less then pristine appearance.
Personality:
Vince is a very reserved individual, and his presence is easily forgotten in the midst of conversation. However he has no problem participating in dialogue, he doesn't go out of his way to contribute information. He is admittedly dull witted, and rarely makes jokes, or apprecietes them. He is a fan of one-liners though.
Residence:
Private residence in gated community.
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
Normally a grey hoodie, and sweats. When he is on a serious patrol he will take fireproof Tinker made gear.
Power:
Vince is a pyrokinetic, and is able to generate flames from his mouth, and from the black lines across his body. Unfortunately items touching him are not fire proof in the least. The hotter Vince gets, the more black lines spread across his body (They started forming from the chest.) He is only able to control fire within thirty meters of himself, and can only make the flame as hot as 180 Celsius, though he can generate this heat from seemingly nowhere. Vince also has a very deep understanding of how heat will spread throughout a 3D space (Given he has seen all parts to the space.) As such he can easily trap criminals without actually harming them. He can even suspend fire in mid air using his pyrokinesis. The hotter his external body temperature the more resilient he becomes. At his maximum heat he becomes completely bulletproof, though his eyesight does suffer, and his reaction time is dulled.
Power range:
Exponentially decreases in power strength at range.
Power safeguards:
Fireproof, and can survive longer without oxygen then most humans, also doesn't panic when he can't breathe.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 2
Blaster: 3
Striker: 6
Breaker: 6
Shaker: 6
Weapons:
None |
49,214 | 1,329 | 7 | 97 | 637 | As an instinct, she immediately looked around for her cat. Odette was nowhere to be found and Serephina got pissed. She glared at this egomaniacal asshole with complete disgust and decided not to even give him an answer until her pet was found. "You scared away my cat you freak! I'll tell you whatever you want to know as soon as I find her. She's all I have left. Don't kill me, I won't use my power." Serephina said with a combination of caution and annoyance. "Come back baby it's okay, come here." Serephina called in her most comforting voice. Odette heard her calls and came bounding up the stairs again and jumped into Serephina's arms burying her head into her chest with her tail curled over her body.
"Now. I'm only here because I was looking for a place to rest and I happened to come upon this place. I didn't know anyone was here. Can I sleep here for the night? On the first floor? We will leave in the morning and not bother you again." Serephina wondered what this guy's problem was. She had never seen anyone be so defensive over an abandoned, worn down warehouse. But maybe this was all this guy had too.
She had no idea that there were others like her. She didn't know whether this guy had super speed and a hologram or not but she knew that he had some sort of power. He was able to make his form seen through the door so it must be a body-heat recognition thing. She looked past him and saw that he looked pretty set up in here. Maybe I should have come here sooner. Then this whole place could have been mine. She saw a couch, fridge, TV and other standard living appliances.
She wanted to use her power and be gone before this freak even knew what happened but she decided she would rather talk her way out of this than risk getting killed. But maybe this guy was just full of shit and trying to make himself sound more powerful than he was. | Real name:
Serephina Mayhem
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Tall, skinny but with proportionate curves. Has many small scars from self harm and freckles in all the usual places. Has dark brown hair, green eyes and fair colored skin. Very strong boned and has a lot of force behind her body weight.
Is it public knowledge that your character is a cape?:
No
Hero/Villain name:
To be decided
Affiliation:
Rouge
Biography:
When she was first born, her mother took care of her for a couple months but then abandoned her with her boyfriend’s brother’s family where she was severely abused for 2 and a half years. She has never met her real father and plans to look for him whenever she can get to a bigger city where someone can help her. Her first trigger event was one specific day when her antagonizers came down into the basement where she was being held and proceeded to beat her with what was called a “morning star” for more than 2 hours.
Serephina's trigger event happened after her attackers left the basement. When the lights were shut off, she noticed that she could see perfectly in the pitch blackness and hear what her attackers were talking about upstairs no matter how far away from her they were. It didn't matter because they were all in the same house. Her being simply a year and a half old when it happened, she didn't know what she was capable of until she was taken into her grandparent's custody and accidentally stumbled on her super speed power when running away from a rattlesnake that was trying to strike her.
She discovered her hologram when she was a freshman in high school. Serephina had a bully that would corner her in the halls during passing period and try to harm her. One time, when she was being bullied, she closed her eyes and prepared to receive a punch in the stomach when she noticed that nothing had happened. She opened her eyes and there was what looked like a twin of herself holding the girl in a headlock. The hologram motioned for her to run and that's what she did. (It cannot speak.)
(Outside character knowledge:) I would also like to add some things about my hologram. it is my strongest power. When the hologram is protecting her, no one else but her, can see it. For instance, if someone tries to attack her and Serephina activates her hologram, it will simply look like the attack is hitting an unidentified force. It also has the ability to cover Serephina in a bubble like force field that blocks all sound frequencies from penetrating it. The hologram does not take damage. I want it to have one weakness but I have yet to decide what that is yet.
She was also never fed. After the horror was ended when her grandparents took her into their home, she from there on she had disassociation syndrome. This is a disease that affects your relationships with others. A person with this mental condition does not feel strong emotions towards very many people or things. When they get attached to someone however, they will never let go and will be very loyal. Everyone else however, they will be completely numb to and have no feelings of love or attachment. All through middle school and high school, she never fit in with anyone except a few of the social outcasts that made her feel like she could be herself. But when those friends moved away, she had nothing left in school so she dropped out her junior year.
Soon after dropping out, she left home. She packed her stuff in the middle of the night, left a note saying that she left and was never seen again by her grandparents. The police looked for for a year but then gave up when they found nothing. Her cat is the only thing she has that means the world to her and loves. She has trained her cat to follow her wherever she goes, come when she is called and obey certain commands.
Personality:
Quiet when you first meet her but if she lets you get close to her, she becomes more comfortable and outgoing with you. Very argumentative and questions everything everyone says. She does not take anyone's word for anything. Very helpful when she sees others struggling and she knows she can help but she will not befriend anyone she helps. Friends come to her. Not the other way around. Keeps to herself mostly of the time but is polite and mildly friendly if approached.
Residence:
Doesn't have a home. She makes camp wherever she finds a safe place to rest for the night. She would rather wander alone than be at her Grandparent’s house.
Parental status:
Orphan. Her mother is alive but she has nothing to do with her and she has never met her real dad.
Costume:
She wears thin sneakers most of the time as opposed to other kinds of shoes so she is not weighed down when she runs. When she knows she might have to climb something or trudge through something difficult, she switches over to a pair of hiking boots which she carries in her backpack. She wears a dark green hoodie zipped up and something similar to yoga pants. She has implanted another layer of cloth on top of the original to keep her warm in whatever cold weather she encounters.
Power:
As a result of her abuse as a child, her power revolves around protection and flight skills. If she is in a bad situation and wants to leave, she can become invisible for a short enough period of time for her to get herself a good distance away from the situation. The higher her sense of danger or adrenaline, the longer her invisibility can stay active. Anything she holds will also be invisible. She also has super speed and the ability to create a twin hologram to protect her when she cannot protect herself. Her speed is an 80% increase than her normal running speed. This hologram can pick things up and move them to places Serephina wants her to. It cannot however go through solid objects. Whatever the hologram sees, Serephina sees. She can control what the hologram does, or let it act on it’s own. It has a database of several offensive and defensive battle techniques and its only purpose is to keep Serephina alive. It cannot take damage except for it's one weakness (which someone will figure out eventually.) Lastly, she has heightened hearing and sight. Heightened sight meaning she can see in the dark and see farther away than most people can. Her hearing has a farther distance range and higher frequency range than most normal people.
Power range:
Her powers have no distance limit except her hologram. It will shut down if she is more than 150 feet away from it after it is created.
Power safeguards:
Her powers only activate when she is in danger, or when her adrenaline levels are very high.
PRT ranking:
Mover: 5
Thinker: 3
Master: 0
Stranger: 7
Weapons:
Small hunting knife
Misc:
She carries a backpack with her wherever she goes that contains things she has stolen and her changes of socks, shoes and other clothing items from her past home. Her cat also hides in this backpack when Serephina wants her to. |
49,215 | 1,329 | 8 | 2,253 | 659 | Blackout's HQ
The knife's holster poked into Ryan's hip as he stood like this. Despite the momentary distraction, he still heard her say it. "I won't use my power." He didn't make a very noticeable reaction, but with her having the eyesight she did she might notice his eye twitch when she said that. The rest of the words weren't processed. She had powers therefore he should kill her. The cat made him pause, and retrace his mental steps through the conversation. A sigh caught in his throat, before he could display the reaction he paused. He was happy though. . . He could tell she wasn't lying. She was homeless, harmless, and cold. He started to examine her, though it was hard to see her very well as he was covering her in a shadow. He was also probably a bit hard to see, but unknown to him, her night vision let her see him perfectly.
He took a step back, and mimed a relieved expression. "God you scared me. I'm sorry for the less then warm greeting, but you have to understand. . ." He realized he didn't know if she would understand, "Or I hope you can. . . Not trusting people. I have a good thing going on here, and I don't. . ." He sighed again, realizing he was rambling. "Listen. Come in, get warm, and as long as we're not attacking each other we'll be fine. I will even get rid of my weapon. It's more a symbol of goodwill then anything else, cause I won't let you search me." He smiled for the first time since he had seen her, "Sorry to disappoint," A sound resembling a laugh came out, before it was cut short by him coughing loudly.
Ryan turned around, and walked farther into his base. He unclipped his now visible holster and tossed it to the side, with the knife inside of it. His clothes were tight enough that it was obvious he didn't have another weapon on him. He didn't reactivate his power. Ryan was cautious but he also didn't like murdering, even if they were homeless girls no one gave a rats ass about. | Real name:
Vince Kiran
(He is publicly known to be a ward)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Though in clothed profile he may appear normal, below his collarbone are intricate black lines, almost like tattoos but with more depth. At his chest they make simple elegant curves, but turn into more primitive hard lines as they go over his arms and hands. They are warmer then his body temperature, and have small cracks within them. He is clearly Caucasian.
Hero/Villian name:
Scourge
Affiliation:
Ward member
Biography:
Vince had an average life for a child raised by parents who are in the top one percent, though his parents were strict. He had to focus on his studies almost exclusively, leading to a sort of scholarly isolation. It didn't jade Vince though, as it was the only life he knew, and he never noticed how other kids had parties in the afternoon while he instead had study sessions. Where other students would watch movies, he would instead read "Catcher in the Rye," and as such isolation became a fact of life. Even his parents ignored him, always expecting perfection, and though content to observe it in their son, not surprised.
All through elementary school, middle school, and currently most of high school he has had perfect grades. Never less then one hundred percent, and often more when possible. Brute force met all schoolwork head on, and Vince always won. Loneliness became so common that his parents finally started to worry when he was sixteen. They decided he needed to find something to strive for besides good grades, oblivious to the fact that it was their fault he had embraced such isolation. They payed the hefty fee required, and Vince got his powers artificially through Cauldron. He chose an unstable enough formula to be considered a case 53. At first the change was small enough to not matter, a small black indent on his chest, but as Vince used his power more, the indent became an intricate structure across his entire body.
At seventeen currently, Vince is a member of the Wards. He seems to be the odd one out though as he rarely signs up for extra patrols, and continues his scholarly pursuits. He is viewed as weird at school, and has expressed no interest, currently, in any gender, or material object besides grades. Currently he does, as his parent wished, strive for one thing: Justice. Despite the Powers being his parent's idea, they still view him as a monster currently, secretly resenting his less then pristine appearance.
Personality:
Vince is a very reserved individual, and his presence is easily forgotten in the midst of conversation. However he has no problem participating in dialogue, he doesn't go out of his way to contribute information. He is admittedly dull witted, and rarely makes jokes, or apprecietes them. He is a fan of one-liners though.
Residence:
Private residence in gated community.
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
Normally a grey hoodie, and sweats. When he is on a serious patrol he will take fireproof Tinker made gear.
Power:
Vince is a pyrokinetic, and is able to generate flames from his mouth, and from the black lines across his body. Unfortunately items touching him are not fire proof in the least. The hotter Vince gets, the more black lines spread across his body (They started forming from the chest.) He is only able to control fire within thirty meters of himself, and can only make the flame as hot as 180 Celsius, though he can generate this heat from seemingly nowhere. Vince also has a very deep understanding of how heat will spread throughout a 3D space (Given he has seen all parts to the space.) As such he can easily trap criminals without actually harming them. He can even suspend fire in mid air using his pyrokinesis. The hotter his external body temperature the more resilient he becomes. At his maximum heat he becomes completely bulletproof, though his eyesight does suffer, and his reaction time is dulled.
Power range:
Exponentially decreases in power strength at range.
Power safeguards:
Fireproof, and can survive longer without oxygen then most humans, also doesn't panic when he can't breathe.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 2
Blaster: 3
Striker: 6
Breaker: 6
Shaker: 6
Weapons:
None |
49,216 | 1,329 | 9 | 2,725 | 212 | Ward HQ
The hallway was quiet, save for Phoebe's soft footsteps. A quick check over her shoulder confirmed she was the only one in sight, prompting her to lift the paintball mask she wore up off her face, just enough so she could slip her hand under and rub her eyes. The mask was, of course, a part of her costume, which she wore to school, excluding her red hooded cape. The stares she had gotten when she had first begun attending the school had made her uncomfortable, stupidly enough, despite the fact that her face was covered. And then all the questions she got from the students had been worse. That had been when she learned to be politely dismissive, sending the message that she was annoyed without saying it out loud. It had taken a few months, but, eventually, the student population began mostly leaving her alone, minus the odd autograph request or jeer.
Heavier footsteps from around the corner brought Phoebe out of her thoughts, and her mask was quickly slipped back on.
Nathan passed by her, neither of them even remotely acknowledging the other. While she knew his reasons for doing so, and also knew that her reason -- simply being shy -- was far worse, she couldn't help but feel a small sting of resentment towards him. It happened every time anyone would dismiss or ignore her in such a way. It was a stupid thing to feel, as she purposely worked towards having people stay away from her by being all scowly-faced all the time. And she did that because she was too uncomfortable to talk to people. But she still wanted to talk to people. Sort of.
She was stupid.
With the softest of sighs, she entered the Ward rec room, immediately making her way over to the door that lead to her personal room. On the way there, she heard Chroma talking to himself through his door, though she couldn't make out what he was saying. Par for the course for him, really. He was a little out there, a definite attention-seeker.
By her bed, Phoebe found the details for her patrol. Traffic duty. The girl let out another inaudible sigh. It was silly to expect something exciting every day, especially since she was only a Ward, but she couldn't help but hope.
She noted that she'd be with Chroma for the job. A small smile grew behind her mask. She didn't mind him very much. Sure, being on a team with him, she knew of his egotistical ways, but it didn't really bother her. He had a good heart, at the end of the day, and the desire of his to be recognized by all for his exploits helped him do his job. As long as his flamboyant personality lead to him protecting the city, she'd be content with working with him. And if he ever began to lose his way, whether through endangering missions for want of taking all the glory for himself, or seeking attention through less legal acts, she'd gladly beat him into the ground until he either shaped up or broke.
Besides, she found his antics amusing.
Taking her cape off the hook that was on the back of her door, she threw it on, completing her costume and fully becoming Scarlet in her mind. She then left her room, closing the door behind her, and moved to stand behind the couch, turning on the TV to kill time as she crossed her arms. | Real name:
Phoebe Foster
(Not known to the public)
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Phoebe is somewhat petite -- not overly so, but she's definitely physically smaller than average in all aspects -- and would be described by most as 'cute' and 'pretty' rather than 'sexy.' Her nose and upper cheeks are lightly covered with freckles and small, scratch-like scars, the latter of which can also be seen on her eyelids when she closes her eyes.
Those scars continue down the right side of her body -- a few, harder to notice ones on her small shoulder, and light burn scars mixed in with the scratches further down her forearm and the side of her hand. The burns are very well healed, leaving her skin relatively un-disfigured, with only a pink colouration. She has more noticeable burn scars down the right side of her torso, concentrated around her upper hip. These have also been well taken care of, leaving no blisters and only a discolouration.
Due to her active lifestyle, she is in excellent shape, with her body being lightly toned.
Hero/Villain name:
Scarlet
Affiliation:
Member of the Wards
Biography:
Phoebe was the second child of a happy couple of paramedics. While she was born in Rochester, Minnesota, she never was never able to truly consider any place to be 'home' due to her parent's adventure-seeking nature. It seemed like the family of four moved at least once every two years, something that took a toll on the more reserved and quiet Phoebe. For the young girl, making friends was already a difficult task, one she began to decide wasn't worth it, seeing as by the time she'd made any she'd have to leave them.
While her older sister was more outgoing, she also felt the same way, leading to the two becoming each other's closest friend. For Phoebe, her sister made life bearable.
When Pheobe was 11, her family was living in New York, and were all at Times Square for New Year's Eve. Pheobe, feeling overwhelmed by all the people, got separated from her family, and, of course, began to panic. It only took a minute for her sister to appear through the crowd, though, immediately hugging and comforting the immensely relieved younger girl.
The moment the two broke their hug, a loud series of explosions overpowered and quieted the crowd's excited chatter -- which was replaced in a short moment by screaming and yelling. Whipping around, the sister's saw a greasy man in ragged clothes, wearing no mask, revealing the strange mix of emotions on his face that overwhelmed him. With both hands, he tossed small, metal spheres into the air, scattering them into the crowd. Before they had reached the peak of their arc, the man was taken down by another cape, Phoebe losing sight of the two as they went to the ground.
And then the spheres fell, but Pheobe didn't notice. The quiet, delicate girl only noticed the expression on her sister's face -- her sister, who was loud-mouthed, confident, and always smiling. Her sister, who now looked terribly panicked, eyes towards the sky, towards the spheres. Before Phoebe could process anything, her sister had turned and tackled her to the ground, shielding her as the spheres exploded, a deafening chain of explosions. Phoebe felt heat, and she thought her face and right side of her body were being torn apart. A second of that pain, coupled with the concussive blasts, was easily enough to knock her unconscious.
That was the last time she saw her sister, who had been laying on top of her and holding her tightly to save her life. Pheobe drifted in and out of consciousness for a time, before fully coming to in a hospital room, both of her parents, their faces red and tear stained, next to her.
She soon learned of her sister's death and took it as poorly as one would expect. Thinking back, Phoebe doesn't remember any moment when was she wasn't crying in the following days, the whole situation catching up to her and hitting her hard -- memories of the incident, the fact that she'd never be able to see her sister again, how her parents must feel, and the ugly scars her injuries had left her with.
Thankfully for the family, they supported each other well, and beyond all being a little more reserved, they made it through. With time and reconstructive surgery, Phoebe's scars were minimized, though she still despised them and hid them as best she could by wearing long-sleeved shirts and developing a habit of hiding her right hand in various ways -- after all, they marred her, and reminded her of her sister's passing. Not to mention she really didn't want anyone ever inquiring about them, lest she break down in tears in front of them. She was already shy and awkward without having to deal with something like that. The family soon decided to move one last time, to Chicago, due to Phoebe's mother having family there.
Phoebe herself discovered her power only several months later, having been too withdrawn from everything to find it out sooner. The shock at the discovery gave way to excitement when she realized she was a parahuman -- the first real happiness she had experienced since her sister's death. She began to open up as much as her natural disposition allowed her to, and took a great interest in cape culture. Dreams of being a hero began to fill her head, and she loved them. Behind a mask, even a meek girl like her could command respect and admiration. Even a girl like her could stand up against those who do wrong.
Even a girl like her could put fear into others to deter them from ever pulling what the man in Times Square had.
So Phoebe began trying to convince her parents to allow her to become a Ward. Of course, they were very hesitant -- it had been the source of the biggest arguments they've ever had, with Phoebe's mother giving her blessing and her father being against it. The dangers and the potential of losing their second daughter were at the forefront of the heated discussions. It didn't take long for both of them to be mostly completely convinced, though. They had never seen their youngest daughter so motivated, even from before the incident. She wasn't even 13 and was exercising daily, joining every sports team her school offered (at the expense of showing the scars on her arm due to the uniforms, to her parents shock, though this only helped convince them that she really wanted this) and devouring anything she could find on parahumans.
Several months of keeping this up and Phoebe finally found herself in the Ward system, to her immense satisfaction. From there, she chose her hero name, 'Scarlet,' as she wanted to use red in her costume and also wanted to -- solely for herself -- acknowledge her scars and prove to herself that she was able to keep them from bothering her, and as a reminder for why her reasons for being a hero.
Now 16 years old, she's done well enough to make a name for herself and distinguish herself among the young capes of Chicago as one of the one's that are best to avoid crossing.
Personality:
Phoebe has gained much confidence since she joined the Wards, but her naturally timid nature still shows through at times. She's composed and not very animated, with the most that can usually be gotten out of her being nothing more than a barely-there smile or frown. Additionally, she purposefully tries to give off a slightly haughty, 'don't-talk-to-me' kind of aura in public, to dissuade anyone from coming up to her, due to how uncomfortable and awkward she feels when speaking with others. As such, when interacting with others, she tries to keep it short and polite, not really wanting to make enemies but believing that coming off as something of a hard-ass to be best for everyone -- they don't have to deal with her awkwardness, and she doesn't have to feel uneasy. Beneath that crafted exterior, she's a kind, quiet girl who wishes to make friends, but has pretty much entirely forgotten how to.
When it comes to cape business, she's much more put together, easily being able to direct and interact with others to get a job done. Her self-assuredness in her capabilities, her strong desire to stop villainous capes, and her absolute, stubborn refusal to lose or fail drive her to excel, though she sometimes struggles with going too far, especially during the more mentally taxing jobs, having injured targets within an inch of their lives on a few occasions -- a side effect of her trigger event. It's not so much a temper as it is a primal fear that takes her over, compelling her to make sure whatever she's up against will never be able to harm her or anyone she cares for.
Her biggest issue (which she doesn't truly see as an issue, or at least tries hard to convince herself that it isn't) is that since the discovery of her power, she's lived nearly exclusively to make villains hurt. Saving people is a wonderful side effect of doing so, and is the reason she can justify her mentality, but the grim satisfaction of beating on a criminal before taking them in to be jailed, ruining any chances of them ever having a normal, decent life is what gets her out of bed every day. It's a dark way to live, and certainly weighs on her soul, but she does it out of a perceived necessity. It motivates her more than anything else, pushes her to get stronger and stronger, to do her job better, and in the process indirectly protect even more people. So, for the sake of the good and innocent, she embraces and makes use of the admittedly twisted feelings.
Residence:
Lives in the PRT building
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
A red-and-black paintball mask with a black-tinted visor, a black dress shirt with a plain red tie, black dress pants, black sneakers, and small red gloves (which hide her scarred hand to prevent any chance of someone using that info to find out her real identity, and also allowing her to use her power to augment her punches). Over this, she wears a red, hooded cape that reaches down to her knees, and underneath it all, she wears a skintight black suit fitted with pieces of light kevlar armor that cover her vitals and don't hinder her movement.
The overall edge of her costume was a conscious decision on Phoebe's part, as she wishes to intimidate more than her small stature would allow her to normally.
Power:
Phoebe's power is one of spatial distortion, and allows her to control the momentum of all inorganic matter within her range, with restrictions based on her own physical weight and strength -- anything that she could bring to a complete stop with her own physical power, she can stop within the field, while something like a bullet could only have its trajectory adjusted to make it miss, and a giant boulder being dropped on her would be completely unaffected. The upside is that she doesn't actually exert any energy while doing this, meaning she can essentially put all her weight and strength into redirecting momentum without ever getting tired and while doing it at range.
Additionally, she can use it to give herself a sort of burst of pseudo-super strength -- by manipulating the clothes she wears and the weapons she wields, she can strike out harder and quicker than any normal person, move around at impressive, sudden speeds, or even jump higher. The longer time she has to build up, the more powerful a specific action is -- though she must take care, as a human hand isn't built to withstand punching someone's face at 100 mph, for example.
Weaknesses would be anybody that fights without the use of any inorganic weapons/attacks, such as Changers, and those like Strikers that rely on getting close to their target anyway, as both make the defensive aspect of her ability useless.
Power range:
Consistent power strength within the 3-metre radius of her sphere-of-influence
Power safeguards:
N/A
PRT ranking:
Mover: 3
Brute: 6
Weapons:
A simple, black training sword held in a small loop tied to the left side of her waist, and four heavy metallic spheres, each slightly smaller than a tennis ball and held in separate leather pouches that sit next to each other on the right of her waist. |
49,217 | 1,329 | 10 | 732 | 8,842 | Inside of Crummy Bank
Regus walked into the bank like anyone else, walking with a purpose, but not like he was scared of something. Just act like you know what you're doing and everyone else will. Regus was wearing simple clothes, just a red shirt and a pair of jeans. His change of clothes was in the sports bag that he carried with him. Suspicious? Hopefully not. See he couldn't really be in his disguise before he robbed the bank or it would kind of ruin the point, and look hella suspicious wearing all black with a mask on and a bag walking anywhere. It just screamed villain. Then he entered the bathrooms and entered a stall, making sure it was locked. From what'd he seen there hadn't been any abnormal amounts of security. He just had to hope there weren't any PRT solider or wards wandering too close. Regus took out his laptop and opened it again. One more time. He was here and he needed to... | Real name:
Regus Exavius (Identity as villain, Unknown)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Typically wears dull gray or black clothes, comfortable sweatpants he can run in and basic sneakers. Also wears these under his costume.
Hero/Villian name:
Drho
Affiliation:
Evil
Biography:
Regus was born in Chicago, both his parents safe and sound. His mother was a smart women who wasn't keen on doing work. As a result she managed to latch onto a very wealthy business man who happened to be short on family. Regus was pampered to his heart's content in his childhood, just not by his parents. His father was always far too busy with, well business, and his mother was always out spending her husband's money on feeding her addictions and going to parties. Not that she told him, to his father's knowledge his mother was either caring for Regus or running errands. Not to say Regus wasn't happy, quite the opposite. Like his mother his free time was greatly enhanced by his father's money. The newest game system, nicest clothes, best food. You name it Regus had it. School was easy both ways for him, Regus's natural intelligence and influential father gave him good grades and better friends, both with little effort. Regus's life was a gilded road, perfect student, star of the swim team, likable. Life was good. Then it slowly became not.
Regus was pampered not stupid. He noticed that things stopped becoming quite so gilded. He didn't ride to school in a limo anymore. Christmas was no longer a showering of gifts, barely a light drizzle. Forced smiles and nervous glances the few times they had family dinners. When his parents thought he was asleep or didn't care there were furious shouting matches.They were in debt. Regus's grades began slipping as his classes got harder and his focus dropped. He'd seen enough TV to know what was going on. Divorce was all be inevitable. Or it would've been if his father hadn't died of a stroke. At least that's what the police concluded. Regus knew better of course. His mother knew people. All kinds of people. He'd seen her come home with the powder, at first he thought it was just another one of her drugs. Then he saw her slip it in the wine. Addicting his father too? It'd come together when his father convulsed, dying within minutes. Regus knew had happened. The mansion they lived in was sold off, everything in it. They rented a sleezy apartment and his mother continued her lifestyle, living off her husbands money, searching for someone else when she burnt through that.
She never got that far though. After she'd done an admirable job of burning through nearly all of her funds she'd gotten herself arrested. It was a life sentence for several compiled offences. Ranging from possession and intent to sell all the way to murder. Not his father's but for several others. Regus was surprised, he'd known his mother wasn't the best person and had killed his father, but he hadn't known she'd killed others. Not perhaps it shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. Regardless Regus was left in a lurch. He'd barely managed to graduate, didn't have any job skills, and was practically penniless. Regus ended up joining a gang, only half by choice. They'd been very insistent in recruiting him and leaving wasn't really an option for him. After going through his initiation he quickly found out you were either all in or all out. And once you were all in, you didn't get out. The crew had a couple of capes leading it. After several months of reluctantly committing crimes and doing as little as he could get away with.
Then one morning he woke up in a metal box. It barely fit him, his legs were curled up to his chest with hardly an inch of space to move in any given direction. Several hours of screaming until his voice grew hoarse bore no result. He clawed as best he could at the walls trapping him until his fingers bleed but it bore no result. Regus was in there for days. He never found out how long. Sometime in the haze of cramped limbs, gasping for air, and the headache ringing through his skull it got worse. A metal spike was driven through the metal box skewering his arm. And another one right next to it. Regus thought he couldn't scream anymore, he'd been wrong. When he woke up he found the metal box looked like it melted around him, in solidified lumps on the ground around him. The spike wasn't there anymore either. Regus shakily got to hands and knees, then looked around. There was a chair, with a half eaten sandwich on the ground to it. He was in some random alleyway. He crawled to the sandwich and devoured it. There was still a hole in his arm that had somehow managed to stop bleeding. Regus managed to get to his feet leaning against a wall for support. A wallet. There was a wallet on the chair. Regus snatched it and rifled through it, nearly a hundred bucks, enough to survive for a while. He managed to stagger his way into a cafe and get some more food, funny looks aside, it was Chicago, they'd seen worse.
He managed to find out that his gang had gotten taken down at one of the big meetings. The PRT had gone full force on them and no one had made it out. Still didn't explain what he'd been doing in a metal box with a hole through his arm. He used the reminder of the money on medical supplies as best he could to patch up his arm. Then he found out his power. He'd wearily leaned against a bench to rest, still drained from the experience and the bench bent beneath his weight like playdoh. Several experiments later he'd confirmed it. He had powers. Regus must've had a trigger event in that hellish box. Over the next few days Regus consumed his food supply and tested the extent of his powers. With no money, no one he knew, and nothing else to go on. Crime came naturally. When you could nearly literally walk through walls, stealing was easy. At first it was small things. Food, jewelry, but then he experimented more with power. Become used to it. He got easier and the prizes he took bigger and more valuable. Regus wasn't surviving anymore, he was living. Better off than any other seventeen year old he knew. Of course he didn't really know any so the point was moot.
Personality:
Regus is as you might expect, somewhat disillusioned with the world. People suck. However Regus isn't what he would call a bad person. He doesn't go out his way to make people's lives suck. His difficult life has given him an amazing amount of tenacity as well as a distrust of people. Regus is very confident in himself and his abilities but always tries to have a backup plan. Overall he gives off a lazy impression but this is more to deceive people than anything else.
A passing glance won't reveal his self-assurance in the way he carries himself, however when he is caped its quite clear. Still new to the villain business Regus is out for himself, not actively hurting anyone per say, just looking out for himself. Luckily he's managed to avoid any major confrontations with any capes or police force but he knows it won't last for long. He's prepared to do whatever it takes if that becomes the case. Though he hopes it won't come to that.
Residence:
Crummy Apartment
Parental status:
Father dead, Mother in jail.
Costume:
Long flowing black robes to conceal his identity and for use with his power. Also wears a demon face-mask
Power:
Regus can manipulate an object's density. The most frequent thing he does with this is makes things soft, like puddy, so he can push, squish, and reshape them. This allows him to go through conventional barriers with ease by softening them and tearing them apart. In addition he can use it to make things more stiff. For example he could make clothing have the rigidness of a brick, that is to say it doesn't move anymore it remains solid against any force that pushes against it.
This allows him to immobilize people rather easily by hardening their clothes. This effect wears off after around ten minutes or if Regus removes the effects. Regus can do something like puddy-ify a TV and squish into a ball then reform it, but he wouldn't be able to change the dimensions into say a bigger TV, or turn it into another piece of machinery, though this is more a lack of knowledge than ability. The same applies to other objects. Manton effect applies.
Power range:
1 meter around his body 2 meter through contact of modified objects. Constant throughout effected area.
Power safeguards:N/A
PRT ranking:
Changer: 8
Stranger: 2
Brute:6
Striker: 5
Weapons:
A bullwhip
Misc: |
49,218 | 1,329 | 11 | 97 | 637 | The Abandoned Warehouse with a Cat
Serephina looked down at her cat and smiled at the fact that she had calmed down. Odette was batting at a stray part of Serephina's hair that had fallen away from her face. She then looked back up at the boy and half smiled at the offer. She was after all very thirsty.
She walked into the room and set Odette down gently on the couch. She plopped down lazily and swatted at her tail which had landed on top of one of her back legs. She wouldn't show it, but she was very grateful for the boy's offer to let her stay and get warm. She hadn't really realized it but she was in fact cold, hungry and thirsty. The adrenaline she had felt from entering this place and first seeing the boy had distracted her from her bodily needs. She then thought about her cat. She was sure she must be hungry and thirsty as well. Serephina didn't know whether or not she had caught a mouse or something while she wasn't looking or not. She sat down on the couch next to Odette and stroked her speckled head. She purred in delight at her owner's touch. She wasn't sure where the boy had gone but she decided she needed to speak to him at least a little bit.
She felt bad now that she had gotten so in his face. He was nice after all. He was generous enough to let her into his space and somewhat care for her. She owed him something. . . At least a thanks. So she called out to him. "Thank you for letting me stay here. I really appreciate it. And I completely understand the whole not trusting thing. I've never had anyone I could trust my entire life except my best friend. But she's not my best friend anymore so, that went up in smoke. What do you do here anyway? Do you just steal food and stuff like I do? Or do you actually have a job and money like a normal person?"
This boy was younger than she was. He looked about 17 or something like that. But then again, there were people in this world that looked WAY older or WAY younger than they actually were and completely throw you off when they confess their age. She was 18 but looked like she was 22. She used to buy alcohol without being carded when she lived with her grandparents because people just assumed she was in her 20's. She guessed that was a perk of looking older than you were. | Real name:
Serephina Mayhem
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Tall, skinny but with proportionate curves. Has many small scars from self harm and freckles in all the usual places. Has dark brown hair, green eyes and fair colored skin. Very strong boned and has a lot of force behind her body weight.
Is it public knowledge that your character is a cape?:
No
Hero/Villain name:
To be decided
Affiliation:
Rouge
Biography:
When she was first born, her mother took care of her for a couple months but then abandoned her with her boyfriend’s brother’s family where she was severely abused for 2 and a half years. She has never met her real father and plans to look for him whenever she can get to a bigger city where someone can help her. Her first trigger event was one specific day when her antagonizers came down into the basement where she was being held and proceeded to beat her with what was called a “morning star” for more than 2 hours.
Serephina's trigger event happened after her attackers left the basement. When the lights were shut off, she noticed that she could see perfectly in the pitch blackness and hear what her attackers were talking about upstairs no matter how far away from her they were. It didn't matter because they were all in the same house. Her being simply a year and a half old when it happened, she didn't know what she was capable of until she was taken into her grandparent's custody and accidentally stumbled on her super speed power when running away from a rattlesnake that was trying to strike her.
She discovered her hologram when she was a freshman in high school. Serephina had a bully that would corner her in the halls during passing period and try to harm her. One time, when she was being bullied, she closed her eyes and prepared to receive a punch in the stomach when she noticed that nothing had happened. She opened her eyes and there was what looked like a twin of herself holding the girl in a headlock. The hologram motioned for her to run and that's what she did. (It cannot speak.)
(Outside character knowledge:) I would also like to add some things about my hologram. it is my strongest power. When the hologram is protecting her, no one else but her, can see it. For instance, if someone tries to attack her and Serephina activates her hologram, it will simply look like the attack is hitting an unidentified force. It also has the ability to cover Serephina in a bubble like force field that blocks all sound frequencies from penetrating it. The hologram does not take damage. I want it to have one weakness but I have yet to decide what that is yet.
She was also never fed. After the horror was ended when her grandparents took her into their home, she from there on she had disassociation syndrome. This is a disease that affects your relationships with others. A person with this mental condition does not feel strong emotions towards very many people or things. When they get attached to someone however, they will never let go and will be very loyal. Everyone else however, they will be completely numb to and have no feelings of love or attachment. All through middle school and high school, she never fit in with anyone except a few of the social outcasts that made her feel like she could be herself. But when those friends moved away, she had nothing left in school so she dropped out her junior year.
Soon after dropping out, she left home. She packed her stuff in the middle of the night, left a note saying that she left and was never seen again by her grandparents. The police looked for for a year but then gave up when they found nothing. Her cat is the only thing she has that means the world to her and loves. She has trained her cat to follow her wherever she goes, come when she is called and obey certain commands.
Personality:
Quiet when you first meet her but if she lets you get close to her, she becomes more comfortable and outgoing with you. Very argumentative and questions everything everyone says. She does not take anyone's word for anything. Very helpful when she sees others struggling and she knows she can help but she will not befriend anyone she helps. Friends come to her. Not the other way around. Keeps to herself mostly of the time but is polite and mildly friendly if approached.
Residence:
Doesn't have a home. She makes camp wherever she finds a safe place to rest for the night. She would rather wander alone than be at her Grandparent’s house.
Parental status:
Orphan. Her mother is alive but she has nothing to do with her and she has never met her real dad.
Costume:
She wears thin sneakers most of the time as opposed to other kinds of shoes so she is not weighed down when she runs. When she knows she might have to climb something or trudge through something difficult, she switches over to a pair of hiking boots which she carries in her backpack. She wears a dark green hoodie zipped up and something similar to yoga pants. She has implanted another layer of cloth on top of the original to keep her warm in whatever cold weather she encounters.
Power:
As a result of her abuse as a child, her power revolves around protection and flight skills. If she is in a bad situation and wants to leave, she can become invisible for a short enough period of time for her to get herself a good distance away from the situation. The higher her sense of danger or adrenaline, the longer her invisibility can stay active. Anything she holds will also be invisible. She also has super speed and the ability to create a twin hologram to protect her when she cannot protect herself. Her speed is an 80% increase than her normal running speed. This hologram can pick things up and move them to places Serephina wants her to. It cannot however go through solid objects. Whatever the hologram sees, Serephina sees. She can control what the hologram does, or let it act on it’s own. It has a database of several offensive and defensive battle techniques and its only purpose is to keep Serephina alive. It cannot take damage except for it's one weakness (which someone will figure out eventually.) Lastly, she has heightened hearing and sight. Heightened sight meaning she can see in the dark and see farther away than most people can. Her hearing has a farther distance range and higher frequency range than most normal people.
Power range:
Her powers have no distance limit except her hologram. It will shut down if she is more than 150 feet away from it after it is created.
Power safeguards:
Her powers only activate when she is in danger, or when her adrenaline levels are very high.
PRT ranking:
Mover: 5
Thinker: 3
Master: 0
Stranger: 7
Weapons:
Small hunting knife
Misc:
She carries a backpack with her wherever she goes that contains things she has stolen and her changes of socks, shoes and other clothing items from her past home. Her cat also hides in this backpack when Serephina wants her to. |
49,219 | 1,329 | 12 | 1,105 | 2,351 | Ward HQ
With one final sigh, Alex stood up from his bed and returned his mask back to his face where it belonged. "Maybe we'll get lucky and there'll be a bank robbery or something," he mused to himself before marching to his bedroom door. He was about to open it when he heard the TV click on in the living room. He didn't notice anyone come in. But then again he was talking to himself the whole time so it wasn't impossible to assume he just didn't hear them. Alex already guessed it was Scarlet by the time he opened the door, letting his eyes confirm it.
"Hey, Scarlet," he greeted casually, holding up his hand that was still holding the patrol schedule. "So you and I will be working together today. We got a terrible time for actually fighting crime, but should the need arise just remember not to steal the limelight. I'll let you capture the small fry but if something big happens then I've got dibs." Alex, or rather he was Chroma now, knew he was being immature. But he did feel threatened by Scarlet and had to put some kind of damage control on the patrol situation. She did have the potential to outshine him when working together, something that Chroma didn't like in the slightest. The young Ward lowered the schedule and ran his free hand through his blonde hair, slicking it back with ease despite not having any gel. Now he was completely in costume. "I'm gonna get a quick snack before we head out. I like to start my patrols early; punctuality is an important part of being a hero. The hero that doesn't show up in time is the hero that doesn't save the day." | Real name:
Alex Rowland
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Hero/Villian name:
Chroma
Affiliation:
Good, Ward
Biography:
A young American teenager born and raised in San Francisco. His father was an artist of varying fields and his mother was an impressionable accountant. Alex was raised in a very liberal household that valued his strengths and ignored his weaknesses, leading to an inflated ego from a young age. They were not a wealthy family, as the only source of income came from his mother's steady job. His father was doing something different every year. One year he is an actor, another he is a painter, but no matter what he's doing it doesn't make money. Alex initially resented that part about his father, but in time he would be indoctrinated by his charismatic old man. Art wasn't meant to make profit, it was meant to entertain. Art was a way of life, not a job.
Alex would receive both Trigger Events simultaneously when he was fifteen and attended his father's very first art show. A culmination of his old man's entire life's works put on display for the public to see. Only it was not well received. It would be an understatement to say the high-class establishment that funded and hosted his event were displeased with his paintings' "child-like" qualities. A crowd gathered to mock and harass the Rowland family. The humiliation didn't stop with the art show, as drunk patrons awaited the Rowland family as they left that night and assaulted them in the street. They would've only attacked Alex's father, but young Alex was quick to succumb to his rage and jumped in. This resulted in the beating of a lifetime, putting him in the hospital alongside his father.
He didn't realize his powers for almost a month after the event, when he was mostly healed from the fight and out of the hospital. An angry Alex was quick to abuse this, destroying the building that catered to the dramatic art show that stained his father's reputation and almost killed the two of them. This put him on the PRT's radar and they approached his family the next day. They were willing to overlook his crime in order to form him into a true hero that could wield his powers wisely and safely. Alex saw this as an opportunity to become famous like his father could not. He accepted the proposal without haste, though his father demanded he wouldn't be taken to the Los Angeles department out of prejudice. The PRT granted their wish and instead sent Alex all the way to Chicago, Illinois. He has since become a Ward for the PRT, donning the alias of Chroma for his superhero acts.
Personality:
Some may be believe Alex to be a genuine and upstanding citizen with impeccable morals and a capacity for empathy. They would be gravely mistaken. Alex Rowland isn't just sly and conniving but incredibly full of himself. An egomaniac that uses justice as a means to parade his greatness. Life is like one big show to him and he's none other than the leading role. He finds himself to be a gift from God and behaves in an accordingly eccentric and extravagant way that often brings up questions of his sexuality. Despite caring for himself above all else he does have some morals, finding it easy to injure but difficult to kill. One can also say that he has decent self-control, but only when he puts on his mask. His arrogance puts off many people, but somehow it is overlooked whenever he dons his superhero costume.
Residence:
PRT Building
Parental status:
Both are alive and well living in San Francisco, California.
Costume:
A white full-body suit with white boots and gloves alongside a black masquerade mask to cover a large part of Alex's face, all the while his hair is slicked back. The costume has no inherent protection value.
Power:
Chromatic Overload - Alex has the power to change the colors of everything around him in the world. Likewise he can "create" his own "colors" that appear to be floating blobs of paint that can have diverse effects when they come into contact with a target. He can then fling these masses of color at his opponents as a means of combat. RED would burn, BLUE would drench, YELLOW would electrify, etc. The effects cannot be interchanged between colors as they are unique to their individual coloring. While most of his powers revolve around "adding" color, Alex also has the ability to "subtract" color which will turn the affected object or person invisible. The effects of Chromatic Overload's color-changing aspect can be negated by Trump powers or by exiting Alex's range, but the color that is created can only be removed by Alex or Trump powers, making their effects possibly permanent.
Power range:
100m general range. Colors can only be created and manipulated less than 1m away from his hands, afterwards it is entirely based on momentum and can no longer be controlled, only erased. Thrown colors cannot exit the 100m range unless they land on something, at which point they can. Colors can be changed at the full 100m range, same with removing colors. Changed colors that go beyond the 100m range will naturally revert to their natural colors without any intervention. Any object that has had its colors removed will also return to normal once it passes the 100m range.
Power safeguards:
Alex has complete immunity to his own powers. He cannot change his own colors, he cannot apply colors to himself, and he cannot take colors away from himself. This only applies to his body directly, as he can still use Chromatic Overload on his clothes and equipment just fine.
PRT ranking:
Blaster: 6
Striker: 3
Changer: 5
Stranger: 3
Weapons:
Alex carries no weapons. |
49,220 | 1,329 | 13 | 2,253 | 659 | Blackout's HQ
Ryan walked to the fridge, the adrenaline slowly wearing off. He started walking slower and breathing heavier. He had definitely exerted himself well past his normal limit, and he started to get a bit dizzy. He actually stumbled a bit and had to grab the fridge to keep his balance.
Serephina heard the bottles and containers made of glass in the refrigerator clash together and raise her head sharply at the noise. She saw the boy stumble and raced over to him to stop him from falling, accidentally using her power. She grabbed onto his shoulders to hold him up and said, "I'm sorry I used my power but I wanted to help."
He smiled slightly at her apology, and stood up a bit straighter, "I'm fine, just. . . Exhausted. See that shredded dummy? I started today," he said, gesturing to the dummy. "And no I don't normally steal, it's just. . . Complicated. Really complicated." He shook his head as if to dismiss the thought. He moved, wincing a bit when he crouched down to open the fridge. It was pretty much packed with food and drinks filling every shelf.
She looked over at the dummy with widened eyes. He must have been battle training or something like that for that thing to have so many slash marks on it. "Wow. For just starting today that's some pretty good work. Wouldn't wanna piss you off would I?" she asked with a smirk and a chuckle. She then wondered what he meant by "complicated."
"I just started my training today actually. But you have a powerful weapon yourself, huh? Super speed?" Ryan said, with a curious look. He didn't wait for an answer before handing her a water, and asking, "Something you want to eat? Fruit? Pizza? Ice cream?" His smile growing wider.
Serephina loved fruit. Specifically pomegranates. But that was a really weird fruit to ask for because not very many people had them. "Thanks for the water. Yeah I have super speed, better sight and hearing than most people and...." She was scared to give away her other power. She trailed off and acted like she had forgotten what she wanted to say. "Do you have a banana or something? I love fruit of almost any kind." Her hologram was her strongest power and she wasn't sure she wanted to give that away to this boy she just met.
She trailed off, and of course Ryan noticed. He noted to himself that this would be give and take, not as easy as he wanted. "I have a trump power, personally. So. . . Do you know what that means? Or are you out of the loop when it comes to that kind of information?" He asked, remembering halfway through that she was homeless. He reached into the fridge and grabbed an apple, the first thing he got his hands on. He gave it to her gingerly and closed the fridge door, listening for a response.
"Um to be honest, I had no idea that there even were other people like me. I just thought I was a weird special case. There's classifications? Wow. This is more in depth than I thought." She bit into the apple and relished the sweet juice that came from it. As she walked over to the couch, she cracked open the seal on the bottle of water and Odette's head came up. She knew that sound. She always drank out of water bottle caps. Serephina would pour some water into the cap of the bottle and she would lap it up until it was gone and ask for more. Suddenly getting curious while Odette drank, she curiously asked the boy, "What class would I be?"
"I don't know," He admitted gingerly, not wanting to lose her interest. He continued, drawing attention away from the fact he didn't know the details himself. "A trump power means I can manipulate others powers. Specifically I disable them." He explained, making his voice soothing. He didn't want it to be a threat. "I could give you a rough classification if I knew the details of your power," He said, trying to make it sound like he wasn't trying to make an evaluation of a possible threat. It was though.
Serephina could tell that he felt threatened and she didn't know whether or not to embrace that or defuse it. She didn't wanna seem like a bull head but she didn't wanna seem like an easy target either. She still wasn't sure if she wanted to show him or even TELL him about her hologram. That was her most vital power and she didn't know if she wanted to give it away. She nodded and tried to look like she was pondering what he said. Then she spoke up. "Well I basically have defensive powers. Super speed, temporary invisibility, heightened hearing and sight, stuff like that."
"Stranger, mover then, huh. As in you move fast and are hard to notice," Ryan summarized with interest, smiling now. He seemed very satisfied with her answers and didn't even consider she would deceive him. He walked over to the dummy, thinking quietly to himself. "So what are you planning to do after. . . This?" He asked, his interest now piqued again.
She wondered what a "mover" or a "stranger" even was. Wow this was more complicated than she had thought. In response to his question she had no answer whatsoever. She just sighed, looked at him and shook her head. "I don't know. I've just been wandering for years now. I ran away from home and have just been committing small crimes to get by ever since. Stealing food, water and supplies that I needed along the way. My cat follows me everywhere I go and that's about it. I have no plans yet. If I wanted to go to college or something I would have to change my name and make sure no one found me and recognized I was the girl that ran away." She glanced at Odette who had fallen asleep after her long drink of water.
Ryan laughed a bit, smiling at her response, despite the serious nature. "I meant tomorrow. Do you have a plan, or. . ." He trailed off, feeling bad for laughing at her plight.
Serephina now felt foolish. She had just given away her entire life to this guy in what she thought was a genuine response. But to be fair he hadn't specified as to exactly what he meant. . . "Oh; That's what you meant. I'm not sure. I was thinking about just moving on and finding somewhere else to crashfor a while. I don't know anyone around here so I'm kind of lost." She took another bite out of her apple attempting to shrug off her mistake.
"Sorry," He interjected, thinking for a second. Ryan sighed, and walked over to the fridge, turning everything over in his head. She was used to crime, she had strong powers, she was, arguably the perfect candidate for what the Boss was having him do. He got a banana out of the fridge, and walked over to her, handing it to her and not moving away.
Serephina smiled up at him and took the banana gratefully. She would save that for later. He was standing very close to her and she didn't know why. She then noticed that his clothes were very tight. He was wearing all black and his hair fell in his eyes. She tried not to notice how attractive he was. Starting to feel awkward, she looked away at her cat who was still sleeping. She stood up and was VERY close to his face. She then smiled and activated her super speed and winked across the room to lean against the opposite wall. She smiled at him when he saw her again.
Close. Too close. Ryan resisted the urge of stopping the inherent threat that was apparent. Was it a threat though? Ryan paused after asking himself this, preventing himself from disabling one of the "threat's" weapon. Then she disappeared and he panicked. Almost without his consent his power activated again, and he quickly scanned the room. He saw her smile when he recessed his power wholly and made the connection. She wasn't threatening him. He sighed a breath of relief, relaxing visibly. "I just realized I don't know your name," He said, trying to move his body to a more relaxed position. He sat down next to the cat gingerly, looking at her for an answer.
Serephina walked normally back to the other side of the room and took a seat on the opposite side of her car facing him. "Serephina. Serephina Mayhem." She hoped that she hadn't freaked him out. She liked to show off every once in a while.
"Do you, uh, know what Seraph means?" Ryan asked, trying not to smile. He didn't immediately reply with his name, mostly cause he forgot to.
She looked at him curiously and tilted her head to one side in a cat like manner. "No? What?" If this guy's name reflected anything about his personality, it sure as hell would be interesting.
"Angel, roughly. Your name means Angel's mayhem," He said, fighting off the smile even harder now. It was. . . Strangely fitting. "Please tell me that's your cape name and not. . . Ya know, what your parents put on the birth certificate," Ryan said cautiously.
Serephina laughed and tried to decider if that was an insult or just a innocent question. She decided to tell the truth like she had done this whole time. "No that's my actual name. I've always loved my name. Why? Does that sound dumb to you?" She wasn't trying to be defensive, she just wanted to know if her whole life she had seemed like an idiot thanks to the name her mother gave her.
"No, no," Ryan said, raising his hands defensively, "Just. . ." He scrambled for words and found none. He shrugged dully, seeming suddenly uncomfortable.
Attempting to make this adorably awkward boy feel better, she decided to finally ask for his name. "Well what's yours then? I doubt I'll be able to tell you what it means but I would like to know." Odette woke up and blinked at Serephina slowly. This was a sign of love from cats.
Ryan widened his eyes as he realized she'd expect him to tell her. "Um. . . Have you seen any news reports, wanted ads, or PRT criminal reports for a villain named Blackout?" He asked cautiously.
She wasn't sure whether that was his real name or something else he had come up with for himself. She responded carefully, "No. I haven't had TV since I left my grandparents house. Why?" She knew this guy was who he just asked about. He couldn't be just a normal person. He was one of her.
"I'm. . . Just that. I'm the super villain Blackout. I kinda lied earlier, I'm not just a trump. I'm also a stranger. They nicknamed me Blackout because I stop the use of powers and I stop communication. Completely. No hand signals, no winks, nothing. I'm a walking communications Blackout. Unfortunately I also reveal my exact location whenever my power is active." Ryan explained slowly, knowing it was a lot to take in. He stood up and walked over to the fridge while he talked, kneeling out of sight. He took a gun out from below the fridge and slipped it into his waistband, while opening the door. If he heard her get up he'd disable her power, shoot her in both knees, knock her out and drag her far away from here. Ryan realized he could be seen as a threat to her again, and he was honestly scared.
Then his phone rang. The loud ringing sharply cut his tension, and he quickly stood up and took it out of his pocket, his fears forgotten.
The Boss was calling.
Ryan flinched visibly as he answered the call, knowing this timing was not a mistake. "Uh, yeah, Boss?"
"We have a situation, bring the girl, give her the box in the room behind you. The one in the corner. Before you ask, yes we have a precog. Now get your costume on, and be ready to mobilize in twenty minutes,"
Ryan nodded dumbly, ending the call with a prompt, "Yes sir," He looked up at Seraphina, and sighed. "We have a job. Yes I said we. My boss just called. Come with me you'll make an easy million if not more." He offered carefully, knowing if she declined the Boss wouldn't. . . Take kindly.
Serephina wasn't sure she wanted to be forced into something so suddenly like this. Job? What did that mean? She grabbed her backpack and yelled after Blackout, "Where are we going? I'm not gonna go with you unless you tell me!" She called to Odette to follow her.
"Making this house I'm living in possible. Making a living. That's where we're going. We're going to be picked up by an unmarked van in about twenty minutes. We'll be given the details on scene and run defense for a crime. Then we'll leave after getting paid. One million dollars each. Then we'll return here, and you will get your own base operations if you so choose, along with any supplies or services you need," Ryan walked and talked. He retrieved his knife and gun holster. "If you wanna participate go get your temporary supplies from the next room over. I'm gonna change into costume. No time for modesty, we need to hurry." He said, obviously tired of explaining. He slipped off his shirt quickly, and grabbed a Kevlar vest. He had multiple scars scattered across his back and his left breast had a huge circular scar. He put on the vest, glancing over at her to see if she was listening yet.
Serephina scooped up Odette and gathered her things. She had no idea what Blackout was taking about or whether or not she should get into s strange van just because she was told to... But a million dollars? How could a poor, homeless 19 year old pass that up?
"The box in the other room. Change into the costume so they don't know who you are," Ryan said as he slipped the Kevlar chest piece on, then a black shirt over that. Then he took off his pants and slipped on some sweats. He secured some Kevlar plates over his kneecaps, and his shin. Then he worked on putting his wig on, carefully aligning it to conceal his blonde hair. As the finishing touch he slipped on the Kevlar riot control helmet. All in all he was basically bulletproof, and very well disguised.
He slipped a belt on over the sweats, putting magazines into each slot, then slipping his knife and gun into their respective holsters.
Serephina smiled slyly and asked "Why would I need a mask? Nobody knows who I am. I haven't been seen for years!" She laughed loudly because of the ease she felt at committing crime. Whatever was about to happen, it would be easy.
Blackout shrugged and smiled at her laugh. She was perfect for this job. "Lets go then," he said and began walking over to, and opening, the trapdoor. He lead Serephina outside, his gait a little rushed. He reached the first floor stairs, and walked confidently down them. Despite their rugged appearance they were sturdy.
Blackout crinkled his nose a bit as they walked outside, the smell not the least bit enticing. It reminded him of meth, and bad whores; But not on a personal level.
Blackout glanced back at Serephina, his look concerned for a moment, but then switched to something else. A look of supreme confidence. He knew how this would end now. Same as it always did.
To top it off he was also a bit less lonely.
Blackout shook his head again, and turned to watch a van approach. It slowed to a stop after it passed them and its back doors opened. Inside was a thin man typing on a laptop, sitting in a chair that was against the far wall of the van. There was one more seats on the left side of him and two on the right. The seat on the left was occupied by a thicker build man, wearing military grade equipment.
Blackout grabbed Serephina's arm and dragged her into the van, sitting on the seat nearer the thinner man.
"Seth?" Blackout asked, and the thin man looked up, confused that his name was beind said.
"Oh. Blackout. And. . . Friend?" Seth said carefully, and Blackout automatically nodded.
"Anyways, the rundown. So a bank robbery is going to happen in about 5 minutes. 4 minutes actually. Anyways, you guys are going to run support, Ryan your usual stuff. And. . . The girl is going to run distraction. All the major heroes are out of town." Seth said, checking his computer every so often to confirm the details. Blackout nodded, slipping his knife out to play with it. As Seth was explaining things the van started to move.
"So more then our normal pay?" Blackout said smiling widely.
"Double." Seth said simply.
"Let's go then," Blackout nodded again, completely battle ready now.
Ryan inadvertently shows Serephina around his base, but offers her a place to stay for the night after realizing she's homeless. They make the standard pleasantries, as Ryan tries veiled attempts at getting information about her power out of her. Serephina bites at the bait, but doesn't reveal her strongest power. Ryan admits later that he also didn't give her all the information about his own power, and also reveals his super villain identity, while keeping his real name hidden. After exposing this, Ryan gets a call from the boss, informing him about a job, and telling him to bring Serephina with him. Ryan and Serephina get into costume and head towards the bank that Drho is currently robbing, getting informed about the mission along the way. | Real name:
Vince Kiran
(He is publicly known to be a ward)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Though in clothed profile he may appear normal, below his collarbone are intricate black lines, almost like tattoos but with more depth. At his chest they make simple elegant curves, but turn into more primitive hard lines as they go over his arms and hands. They are warmer then his body temperature, and have small cracks within them. He is clearly Caucasian.
Hero/Villian name:
Scourge
Affiliation:
Ward member
Biography:
Vince had an average life for a child raised by parents who are in the top one percent, though his parents were strict. He had to focus on his studies almost exclusively, leading to a sort of scholarly isolation. It didn't jade Vince though, as it was the only life he knew, and he never noticed how other kids had parties in the afternoon while he instead had study sessions. Where other students would watch movies, he would instead read "Catcher in the Rye," and as such isolation became a fact of life. Even his parents ignored him, always expecting perfection, and though content to observe it in their son, not surprised.
All through elementary school, middle school, and currently most of high school he has had perfect grades. Never less then one hundred percent, and often more when possible. Brute force met all schoolwork head on, and Vince always won. Loneliness became so common that his parents finally started to worry when he was sixteen. They decided he needed to find something to strive for besides good grades, oblivious to the fact that it was their fault he had embraced such isolation. They payed the hefty fee required, and Vince got his powers artificially through Cauldron. He chose an unstable enough formula to be considered a case 53. At first the change was small enough to not matter, a small black indent on his chest, but as Vince used his power more, the indent became an intricate structure across his entire body.
At seventeen currently, Vince is a member of the Wards. He seems to be the odd one out though as he rarely signs up for extra patrols, and continues his scholarly pursuits. He is viewed as weird at school, and has expressed no interest, currently, in any gender, or material object besides grades. Currently he does, as his parent wished, strive for one thing: Justice. Despite the Powers being his parent's idea, they still view him as a monster currently, secretly resenting his less then pristine appearance.
Personality:
Vince is a very reserved individual, and his presence is easily forgotten in the midst of conversation. However he has no problem participating in dialogue, he doesn't go out of his way to contribute information. He is admittedly dull witted, and rarely makes jokes, or apprecietes them. He is a fan of one-liners though.
Residence:
Private residence in gated community.
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
Normally a grey hoodie, and sweats. When he is on a serious patrol he will take fireproof Tinker made gear.
Power:
Vince is a pyrokinetic, and is able to generate flames from his mouth, and from the black lines across his body. Unfortunately items touching him are not fire proof in the least. The hotter Vince gets, the more black lines spread across his body (They started forming from the chest.) He is only able to control fire within thirty meters of himself, and can only make the flame as hot as 180 Celsius, though he can generate this heat from seemingly nowhere. Vince also has a very deep understanding of how heat will spread throughout a 3D space (Given he has seen all parts to the space.) As such he can easily trap criminals without actually harming them. He can even suspend fire in mid air using his pyrokinesis. The hotter his external body temperature the more resilient he becomes. At his maximum heat he becomes completely bulletproof, though his eyesight does suffer, and his reaction time is dulled.
Power range:
Exponentially decreases in power strength at range.
Power safeguards:
Fireproof, and can survive longer without oxygen then most humans, also doesn't panic when he can't breathe.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 2
Blaster: 3
Striker: 6
Breaker: 6
Shaker: 6
Weapons:
None |
49,221 | 1,329 | 14 | 732 | 8,842 | Inside Apparently Not So Crummy Bank
Regus took out the mask and carefully placed it over his face. He really hoped there weren't any wards that happened to be close by. He could stall the alarm going off for a while but when it did if a ward squad or any major heros showed up he was probably screwed. From what the web had provided this bank was about the same as the last one he robbed. Basic containment foam that activated on alarm, not a problem with his power luckily. All the personal had key cards that were required to get anywhere helpful, so in interest of doing this most efficiently he needed to swipe a key card. Last time he'd just powered through it and gotten lucky. Desperation did that to a person. Counting on lady luck twice was asking to be let down. How to get a card though? He couldn't just ask nicely. Probably. Maybe?
What if he BSed his way through it? The mask combined with the rest of his black clothing would probably be pretty intimidating, maybe he could pass himself off as FBI or something, like a ward or a PRT officer. Which was most likely to work? Probably a ward, he could show off his power to make it more believable. Call himself a transfer. Regus closed the laptop and stuffed in back in his bag. He quickly left the bathroom and cut in front of a line of people waiting to talk to a teller and spoke quickly. "I need to get into the vault, I'm a ward, precog said it had a 78% chance of getting robbed so I got sent to deal with it, got backup if I need it." The teller looked sufficiently unimpressed.
"Name?" he asked simply. Well feces. Regus passed off his apid thinking by looking skeptically at the teller and buying time by saying, "What do you need my name for?". Now it was the teller's turn to look at him skeptically, "I need to enter your name if I'm going to let you into the vault, even if you are a ward." Got it, school was helpful for something after all. "Sorry I'm a little new at this, transferred yesterday. Name's Drho." The teller typed some stuff and a warning sound came out. He squinted at it and sighed,"Freaking behind on the paperwork as usual. Whatever, Nick cover for me, I've got a ward to take." Apparently this wasn't unusual. Perfect. Regus followed the teller deeper into the bank, watching his card periodically swipe through checks. He couldn't tell if this was more or less than nerve-racking than last time he'd done this. This time he had a plan, on the other hand he didn't know how well it would work and he wasn't running on pure adrenalin now.
They entered a fairly small room, able to fit about ten poeple in it tops, with a bunch of electronic stuff in the walls and beeping lights. The teller turned to him and said, "Basic anti stranger protocols, we ask you some questions and cross check it in the databanks." He turned around and began typing something onto a keyboard placed in a wall with a small monitor above it. "First question is-"" The teller's statement was cut off by Regus slamming his head into the wall, knocking him unconscious, at least. Almost immediately alarms sounded and the room was sprayed with containment foam. This would have been soo much harder if that stuff worked on him. As it was Regus barely had to tap the foam with his power and he could tear through it with ease. The building sounded and looked like it was going into lockdown, but given how close Regus was to the vault already he should be able to get there and out before any real trouble started. Still, if any PRT buggers were hanging around they'd doubtless be getting called in right now, he couldn't afford to waste any time. Then there was the nigggling doubt in the back of his mind that the Boss may have set him up after all, and when he opened up the back of the vault he'd be met by a life in prison. | Real name:
Regus Exavius (Identity as villain, Unknown)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Typically wears dull gray or black clothes, comfortable sweatpants he can run in and basic sneakers. Also wears these under his costume.
Hero/Villian name:
Drho
Affiliation:
Evil
Biography:
Regus was born in Chicago, both his parents safe and sound. His mother was a smart women who wasn't keen on doing work. As a result she managed to latch onto a very wealthy business man who happened to be short on family. Regus was pampered to his heart's content in his childhood, just not by his parents. His father was always far too busy with, well business, and his mother was always out spending her husband's money on feeding her addictions and going to parties. Not that she told him, to his father's knowledge his mother was either caring for Regus or running errands. Not to say Regus wasn't happy, quite the opposite. Like his mother his free time was greatly enhanced by his father's money. The newest game system, nicest clothes, best food. You name it Regus had it. School was easy both ways for him, Regus's natural intelligence and influential father gave him good grades and better friends, both with little effort. Regus's life was a gilded road, perfect student, star of the swim team, likable. Life was good. Then it slowly became not.
Regus was pampered not stupid. He noticed that things stopped becoming quite so gilded. He didn't ride to school in a limo anymore. Christmas was no longer a showering of gifts, barely a light drizzle. Forced smiles and nervous glances the few times they had family dinners. When his parents thought he was asleep or didn't care there were furious shouting matches.They were in debt. Regus's grades began slipping as his classes got harder and his focus dropped. He'd seen enough TV to know what was going on. Divorce was all be inevitable. Or it would've been if his father hadn't died of a stroke. At least that's what the police concluded. Regus knew better of course. His mother knew people. All kinds of people. He'd seen her come home with the powder, at first he thought it was just another one of her drugs. Then he saw her slip it in the wine. Addicting his father too? It'd come together when his father convulsed, dying within minutes. Regus knew had happened. The mansion they lived in was sold off, everything in it. They rented a sleezy apartment and his mother continued her lifestyle, living off her husbands money, searching for someone else when she burnt through that.
She never got that far though. After she'd done an admirable job of burning through nearly all of her funds she'd gotten herself arrested. It was a life sentence for several compiled offences. Ranging from possession and intent to sell all the way to murder. Not his father's but for several others. Regus was surprised, he'd known his mother wasn't the best person and had killed his father, but he hadn't known she'd killed others. Not perhaps it shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. Regardless Regus was left in a lurch. He'd barely managed to graduate, didn't have any job skills, and was practically penniless. Regus ended up joining a gang, only half by choice. They'd been very insistent in recruiting him and leaving wasn't really an option for him. After going through his initiation he quickly found out you were either all in or all out. And once you were all in, you didn't get out. The crew had a couple of capes leading it. After several months of reluctantly committing crimes and doing as little as he could get away with.
Then one morning he woke up in a metal box. It barely fit him, his legs were curled up to his chest with hardly an inch of space to move in any given direction. Several hours of screaming until his voice grew hoarse bore no result. He clawed as best he could at the walls trapping him until his fingers bleed but it bore no result. Regus was in there for days. He never found out how long. Sometime in the haze of cramped limbs, gasping for air, and the headache ringing through his skull it got worse. A metal spike was driven through the metal box skewering his arm. And another one right next to it. Regus thought he couldn't scream anymore, he'd been wrong. When he woke up he found the metal box looked like it melted around him, in solidified lumps on the ground around him. The spike wasn't there anymore either. Regus shakily got to hands and knees, then looked around. There was a chair, with a half eaten sandwich on the ground to it. He was in some random alleyway. He crawled to the sandwich and devoured it. There was still a hole in his arm that had somehow managed to stop bleeding. Regus managed to get to his feet leaning against a wall for support. A wallet. There was a wallet on the chair. Regus snatched it and rifled through it, nearly a hundred bucks, enough to survive for a while. He managed to stagger his way into a cafe and get some more food, funny looks aside, it was Chicago, they'd seen worse.
He managed to find out that his gang had gotten taken down at one of the big meetings. The PRT had gone full force on them and no one had made it out. Still didn't explain what he'd been doing in a metal box with a hole through his arm. He used the reminder of the money on medical supplies as best he could to patch up his arm. Then he found out his power. He'd wearily leaned against a bench to rest, still drained from the experience and the bench bent beneath his weight like playdoh. Several experiments later he'd confirmed it. He had powers. Regus must've had a trigger event in that hellish box. Over the next few days Regus consumed his food supply and tested the extent of his powers. With no money, no one he knew, and nothing else to go on. Crime came naturally. When you could nearly literally walk through walls, stealing was easy. At first it was small things. Food, jewelry, but then he experimented more with power. Become used to it. He got easier and the prizes he took bigger and more valuable. Regus wasn't surviving anymore, he was living. Better off than any other seventeen year old he knew. Of course he didn't really know any so the point was moot.
Personality:
Regus is as you might expect, somewhat disillusioned with the world. People suck. However Regus isn't what he would call a bad person. He doesn't go out his way to make people's lives suck. His difficult life has given him an amazing amount of tenacity as well as a distrust of people. Regus is very confident in himself and his abilities but always tries to have a backup plan. Overall he gives off a lazy impression but this is more to deceive people than anything else.
A passing glance won't reveal his self-assurance in the way he carries himself, however when he is caped its quite clear. Still new to the villain business Regus is out for himself, not actively hurting anyone per say, just looking out for himself. Luckily he's managed to avoid any major confrontations with any capes or police force but he knows it won't last for long. He's prepared to do whatever it takes if that becomes the case. Though he hopes it won't come to that.
Residence:
Crummy Apartment
Parental status:
Father dead, Mother in jail.
Costume:
Long flowing black robes to conceal his identity and for use with his power. Also wears a demon face-mask
Power:
Regus can manipulate an object's density. The most frequent thing he does with this is makes things soft, like puddy, so he can push, squish, and reshape them. This allows him to go through conventional barriers with ease by softening them and tearing them apart. In addition he can use it to make things more stiff. For example he could make clothing have the rigidness of a brick, that is to say it doesn't move anymore it remains solid against any force that pushes against it.
This allows him to immobilize people rather easily by hardening their clothes. This effect wears off after around ten minutes or if Regus removes the effects. Regus can do something like puddy-ify a TV and squish into a ball then reform it, but he wouldn't be able to change the dimensions into say a bigger TV, or turn it into another piece of machinery, though this is more a lack of knowledge than ability. The same applies to other objects. Manton effect applies.
Power range:
1 meter around his body 2 meter through contact of modified objects. Constant throughout effected area.
Power safeguards:N/A
PRT ranking:
Changer: 8
Stranger: 2
Brute:6
Striker: 5
Weapons:
A bullwhip
Misc: |
49,222 | 1,329 | 15 | 2,725 | 212 | Ward HQ
Scarlet simply gave Chroma a nod, snorting inaudibly beneath her mask at his words. "Of course," she replied simply, allowing him to decide whether he thought she was agreeing or being sarcastic.
She afforded herself amused smile as he continued on, nodding once again to show her agreement. She was definitely content to be working with Chroma. He had no issues carrying conversations, which suited her perfectly. She did sort of wish she was able to say more, maybe come up with some kind of quip in response to the things he said. Her being quiet didn't seem to bother the boy too much, at least, which made him easy to be around.
A few minutes after he left, Scarlet followed suit, heading out to start their patrol.
On Patrol
Scarlet let herself fall behind Chroma as they walked, mainly to make their two-man patrol a little more effective. She didn't do much other than let the population see her. The presence of two wards was enough to ensure that nothing illegal was happening. In their line-of-sight, at least. He masked-face exaggeratedly scanned her surroundings, her gaze stopping on the occasional shady-looking person for intimidation purposes. Which was really all patrols were. A show to get the population to think twice before doing something they'd regret.
A distant alarm brought Scarlet out of her thoughts. She wheeled around to pinpoint the direction, while still moving to catch up with Chroma.
"Alarm. I'll check," she said, in case he hadn't heard it yet. A moment later, she crouched down to jump, pushing on herself from below with her power, sending her leaping high enough into the air to land on the lip of a small store. With a small running start this time, she did it again, though pushing more horizontally to give her extra distance. This sent her over to the next building, red cap flapping behind her. As she approached the roof's floor, she pushed against herself to decelerate, landing as softly as if she had jumped normally.
She loved the feeling -- it wasn't quite flying, but it was close. And some day, she knew she'd have enough control over her power to fly. Due to the mechanics of her ability, it was incredibly hard to keep herself balanced in the air by pushing on herself consistently from below; it was delicate work that took her full concentration, but even then she could only hover in place for a few seconds. So flying wasn't going to happen yet for her. But she'd keep practicing.
Several super-powered leaps later, she had eyes on the source of the alarm: a relatively small bank. Possibly a false alarm. If not, it was likely a robbery, though she couldn't be sure. She studied the area a little longer, to wait for Chroma. She touched her earpiece to communicate with him. "It's a bank alarm. If there's anyone robbing the place, they're already inside. All I see are civilians in the lobby."
Scarlet prepared to jump down from the building to meet up with Chroma, cracking her fingers with her thumb deliberately, one at a time. First one gloved hand, then the other. It was a habit she had picked up to deal with anticipation. She could focus on the somewhat painful, relieving feeling, along with the satisfying sound. It kept the butterflies away.
With tight lips, her eyes were locked on the bank. | Real name:
Phoebe Foster
(Not known to the public)
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Phoebe is somewhat petite -- not overly so, but she's definitely physically smaller than average in all aspects -- and would be described by most as 'cute' and 'pretty' rather than 'sexy.' Her nose and upper cheeks are lightly covered with freckles and small, scratch-like scars, the latter of which can also be seen on her eyelids when she closes her eyes.
Those scars continue down the right side of her body -- a few, harder to notice ones on her small shoulder, and light burn scars mixed in with the scratches further down her forearm and the side of her hand. The burns are very well healed, leaving her skin relatively un-disfigured, with only a pink colouration. She has more noticeable burn scars down the right side of her torso, concentrated around her upper hip. These have also been well taken care of, leaving no blisters and only a discolouration.
Due to her active lifestyle, she is in excellent shape, with her body being lightly toned.
Hero/Villain name:
Scarlet
Affiliation:
Member of the Wards
Biography:
Phoebe was the second child of a happy couple of paramedics. While she was born in Rochester, Minnesota, she never was never able to truly consider any place to be 'home' due to her parent's adventure-seeking nature. It seemed like the family of four moved at least once every two years, something that took a toll on the more reserved and quiet Phoebe. For the young girl, making friends was already a difficult task, one she began to decide wasn't worth it, seeing as by the time she'd made any she'd have to leave them.
While her older sister was more outgoing, she also felt the same way, leading to the two becoming each other's closest friend. For Phoebe, her sister made life bearable.
When Pheobe was 11, her family was living in New York, and were all at Times Square for New Year's Eve. Pheobe, feeling overwhelmed by all the people, got separated from her family, and, of course, began to panic. It only took a minute for her sister to appear through the crowd, though, immediately hugging and comforting the immensely relieved younger girl.
The moment the two broke their hug, a loud series of explosions overpowered and quieted the crowd's excited chatter -- which was replaced in a short moment by screaming and yelling. Whipping around, the sister's saw a greasy man in ragged clothes, wearing no mask, revealing the strange mix of emotions on his face that overwhelmed him. With both hands, he tossed small, metal spheres into the air, scattering them into the crowd. Before they had reached the peak of their arc, the man was taken down by another cape, Phoebe losing sight of the two as they went to the ground.
And then the spheres fell, but Pheobe didn't notice. The quiet, delicate girl only noticed the expression on her sister's face -- her sister, who was loud-mouthed, confident, and always smiling. Her sister, who now looked terribly panicked, eyes towards the sky, towards the spheres. Before Phoebe could process anything, her sister had turned and tackled her to the ground, shielding her as the spheres exploded, a deafening chain of explosions. Phoebe felt heat, and she thought her face and right side of her body were being torn apart. A second of that pain, coupled with the concussive blasts, was easily enough to knock her unconscious.
That was the last time she saw her sister, who had been laying on top of her and holding her tightly to save her life. Pheobe drifted in and out of consciousness for a time, before fully coming to in a hospital room, both of her parents, their faces red and tear stained, next to her.
She soon learned of her sister's death and took it as poorly as one would expect. Thinking back, Phoebe doesn't remember any moment when was she wasn't crying in the following days, the whole situation catching up to her and hitting her hard -- memories of the incident, the fact that she'd never be able to see her sister again, how her parents must feel, and the ugly scars her injuries had left her with.
Thankfully for the family, they supported each other well, and beyond all being a little more reserved, they made it through. With time and reconstructive surgery, Phoebe's scars were minimized, though she still despised them and hid them as best she could by wearing long-sleeved shirts and developing a habit of hiding her right hand in various ways -- after all, they marred her, and reminded her of her sister's passing. Not to mention she really didn't want anyone ever inquiring about them, lest she break down in tears in front of them. She was already shy and awkward without having to deal with something like that. The family soon decided to move one last time, to Chicago, due to Phoebe's mother having family there.
Phoebe herself discovered her power only several months later, having been too withdrawn from everything to find it out sooner. The shock at the discovery gave way to excitement when she realized she was a parahuman -- the first real happiness she had experienced since her sister's death. She began to open up as much as her natural disposition allowed her to, and took a great interest in cape culture. Dreams of being a hero began to fill her head, and she loved them. Behind a mask, even a meek girl like her could command respect and admiration. Even a girl like her could stand up against those who do wrong.
Even a girl like her could put fear into others to deter them from ever pulling what the man in Times Square had.
So Phoebe began trying to convince her parents to allow her to become a Ward. Of course, they were very hesitant -- it had been the source of the biggest arguments they've ever had, with Phoebe's mother giving her blessing and her father being against it. The dangers and the potential of losing their second daughter were at the forefront of the heated discussions. It didn't take long for both of them to be mostly completely convinced, though. They had never seen their youngest daughter so motivated, even from before the incident. She wasn't even 13 and was exercising daily, joining every sports team her school offered (at the expense of showing the scars on her arm due to the uniforms, to her parents shock, though this only helped convince them that she really wanted this) and devouring anything she could find on parahumans.
Several months of keeping this up and Phoebe finally found herself in the Ward system, to her immense satisfaction. From there, she chose her hero name, 'Scarlet,' as she wanted to use red in her costume and also wanted to -- solely for herself -- acknowledge her scars and prove to herself that she was able to keep them from bothering her, and as a reminder for why her reasons for being a hero.
Now 16 years old, she's done well enough to make a name for herself and distinguish herself among the young capes of Chicago as one of the one's that are best to avoid crossing.
Personality:
Phoebe has gained much confidence since she joined the Wards, but her naturally timid nature still shows through at times. She's composed and not very animated, with the most that can usually be gotten out of her being nothing more than a barely-there smile or frown. Additionally, she purposefully tries to give off a slightly haughty, 'don't-talk-to-me' kind of aura in public, to dissuade anyone from coming up to her, due to how uncomfortable and awkward she feels when speaking with others. As such, when interacting with others, she tries to keep it short and polite, not really wanting to make enemies but believing that coming off as something of a hard-ass to be best for everyone -- they don't have to deal with her awkwardness, and she doesn't have to feel uneasy. Beneath that crafted exterior, she's a kind, quiet girl who wishes to make friends, but has pretty much entirely forgotten how to.
When it comes to cape business, she's much more put together, easily being able to direct and interact with others to get a job done. Her self-assuredness in her capabilities, her strong desire to stop villainous capes, and her absolute, stubborn refusal to lose or fail drive her to excel, though she sometimes struggles with going too far, especially during the more mentally taxing jobs, having injured targets within an inch of their lives on a few occasions -- a side effect of her trigger event. It's not so much a temper as it is a primal fear that takes her over, compelling her to make sure whatever she's up against will never be able to harm her or anyone she cares for.
Her biggest issue (which she doesn't truly see as an issue, or at least tries hard to convince herself that it isn't) is that since the discovery of her power, she's lived nearly exclusively to make villains hurt. Saving people is a wonderful side effect of doing so, and is the reason she can justify her mentality, but the grim satisfaction of beating on a criminal before taking them in to be jailed, ruining any chances of them ever having a normal, decent life is what gets her out of bed every day. It's a dark way to live, and certainly weighs on her soul, but she does it out of a perceived necessity. It motivates her more than anything else, pushes her to get stronger and stronger, to do her job better, and in the process indirectly protect even more people. So, for the sake of the good and innocent, she embraces and makes use of the admittedly twisted feelings.
Residence:
Lives in the PRT building
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
A red-and-black paintball mask with a black-tinted visor, a black dress shirt with a plain red tie, black dress pants, black sneakers, and small red gloves (which hide her scarred hand to prevent any chance of someone using that info to find out her real identity, and also allowing her to use her power to augment her punches). Over this, she wears a red, hooded cape that reaches down to her knees, and underneath it all, she wears a skintight black suit fitted with pieces of light kevlar armor that cover her vitals and don't hinder her movement.
The overall edge of her costume was a conscious decision on Phoebe's part, as she wishes to intimidate more than her small stature would allow her to normally.
Power:
Phoebe's power is one of spatial distortion, and allows her to control the momentum of all inorganic matter within her range, with restrictions based on her own physical weight and strength -- anything that she could bring to a complete stop with her own physical power, she can stop within the field, while something like a bullet could only have its trajectory adjusted to make it miss, and a giant boulder being dropped on her would be completely unaffected. The upside is that she doesn't actually exert any energy while doing this, meaning she can essentially put all her weight and strength into redirecting momentum without ever getting tired and while doing it at range.
Additionally, she can use it to give herself a sort of burst of pseudo-super strength -- by manipulating the clothes she wears and the weapons she wields, she can strike out harder and quicker than any normal person, move around at impressive, sudden speeds, or even jump higher. The longer time she has to build up, the more powerful a specific action is -- though she must take care, as a human hand isn't built to withstand punching someone's face at 100 mph, for example.
Weaknesses would be anybody that fights without the use of any inorganic weapons/attacks, such as Changers, and those like Strikers that rely on getting close to their target anyway, as both make the defensive aspect of her ability useless.
Power range:
Consistent power strength within the 3-metre radius of her sphere-of-influence
Power safeguards:
N/A
PRT ranking:
Mover: 3
Brute: 6
Weapons:
A simple, black training sword held in a small loop tied to the left side of her waist, and four heavy metallic spheres, each slightly smaller than a tennis ball and held in separate leather pouches that sit next to each other on the right of her waist. |
49,223 | 1,329 | 16 | 847 | 131 | Bank Lobby
Mitchell entered the bank through the front doors, humming a vague, jazzy tune. He wore his ordinary clothing - blue jeans, a pale shirt, and a dark grey jacket - and had a backpack slung over one shoulder. As his attire would indicate, he came to the bank straight from school, intending to make a quick withdrawal before heading home. He joined the short line in front of the ATM, thinking about the recent changes in his life as he waited.
Yesterday had been one of the afternoons when he volunteered to transport emergency medical technicians to emergencies - when he donned the mask of Gateway and spent a few hours making portals between the emergency room and various 911 callers. The first call they'd had was from a woman whose husband suffered a heart attack. Fortunately, it had occured in a neighborhood he used to live in, so Mitch had been able to make a portal directly to the street in front of the caller's house. He'd felt like something of an interloper among the EMTs, standing around uselessly in his costume while they carried an unconscious man onto a stretcher and into the ER, but the words of gratitude he received after his shift convinced him otherwise. According to a physician, the man had been in cardiac arrest - if the paramedics had arrived just a few minutes later, as they certainly would have if they traveled by ambulance rather than instantaneous portal, he would have been dead. The knowledge that Mitch had saved a life still burned warmly in his heart, and his smile grew wider as he recalled it. It made him wonder how much else he could do with his power - what untapped potential did he have? He knew that there were more ways he could help, if only he could think of them.
While he'd been absorbed in thought, the line had moved forward. "Sorry," he murmured softly to the person waiting behind him, and stepped towards the ATM. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a figure in all black, with an ornate mask - another cape? The figure cut in front of a line to speak to a bank teller, and the two left the lobby area together. Mitch did the mental equivalent of a shrug; it was probably none of his business. He stifled a small yawn as he fumbled for the debit card in his wallet. While volunteering with the EMTs was rewarding, it was also exhausting, and the hours of sleep he'd had last night didn't feel like nearly enough recovery time.
At that moment, alarms sounded throughout the bank. Mitch hastily put his belongings away and looked around for signs of the disturbance, but the only people in the lobby were other civilians. They were agitated by the alarm and the lockdown, and he could hear fragments of their conversations: "Hey, what's going on?" "Ohmigosh, is the bank being robbed?"
Mitch recalled the person in the black clothing. It seemed like too much of a coincidence for the alarm to have sounded mere minutes after someone in a black mask entered the bank, and his curiosity compelled him to investigate. Prudence, however, dictated that he should remain in the lobby with the rest of the civilians. Mitch didn't have combat experience and never intended to gain any; he'd probably just get in the way of the trained officials whose job it was to deal with these things. Nonetheless, his thoughts turned towards the mask and taser hidden away in his backpack, and he felt the urge to fight, to use his power for destruction instead of preservation. Mitch resisted the temptation and hoped that circumstances wouldn't force his hand. | Real Name: Mitchell Sodhi (not public knowledge)
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Appearance
Mitch looks similar the boy in the image, but his skin is slightly darker, and he doesn’t have a tattoo. At 5’11”, Mitch is tall and lean. He has long brown hair tied back in a ponytail, forest green eyes, and a tanned, slightly dark complexion. Generally, Mitch prefers to wear casual, comfortable clothing like t-shirts and jeans.
Cape Name: Gateway
Affiliation: Good
Biography
Mitchell Sodhi was born to an American mother and an Indian father in Chicago, Illinois. For the most part, he, his parents, and his younger sister lived a peaceful middle-class life, lacking nothing. He participated in bullying for a brief period during his early childhood, but his mother, whom he was especially close to, quickly corrected his behavior once she found out. She espoused pacifistic views, taught him that violence was almost never the solution, and encouraged him to help others. Mitch did a complete about-face and started doing community service at a local animal shelter. Later, he branched out and began volunteering at the local library and soup kitchen.
When he was 15, he and his mother were caught in a fight between two groups of supervillains. They were trying to escape along with the other panicking civilians, and he tripped and broke his ankle. His mother stayed behind to support him; that was when one villain unleashed a devastating attack, causing the building they'd just fled from to collapse on top of them in a shower of steel and concrete. Mitch briefly blacked out, and when he came to, he was buried under the rubble, one leg broken beneath a piece of concrete and the rest of his body trapped in a tiny open space. The corpse of his mother lay on top of him, still dripping blood. Mitch screamed and screamed for help, but nobody came. After an indeterminable amount of time, he lost consciousness again, and when he awoke, he was in a hospital bed with his father and sister sitting by his bedside. They had found him injured and unconscious inside his own bedroom; he had probably made a portal beneath him and fallen through it to his room during his trigger event.
The incident shook Mitchell to the core, but he was able to recover well with the help of therapy. A year after the incident, he felt that he was ready to start using his newfound powers for good, and he did so with the knowledge and consent of both family members. However, Mitch didn't want to fight crime - it bothered him that almost all parahumans use their powers for fighting even though some abilities would be better suited to industry or medicine. His first act as a cape was to go to a local hospital and offer to help them respond to 911 calls faster. He volunteers there several afternoons a week, using portals to transport paramedics to emergencies much faster than an ambulance could. Mitch has also been researching options for helping charities and doing for-profit contract work for major companies - so far, he's only been a cape for a few weeks, and he has a lot more that he wants to do.
Personality
In everyday life, Mitch is quite relaxed and easygoing. His default expression is a small grin, and he doesn't become worried or upset easily. When confronted, Mitch will usually back down and run away instead of risking a fight. Mitch is fairly creative and intuitive; he likes to think of out-of-the-box solutions, and he plays the saxophone in his spare time. He's kind, soft-hearted, and idealistic to the point of foolish naivety. Mitch is trying to become living proof that parahumans don't need to fight in order to help people, but he doubts himself and wonders if he would do more good by becoming a Ward. Following his trigger event, he started having urges to create conflict with his power - he can't help but think of how easy it would be to open a portal under someone and drop them off a building, or something similarly destructive. He's ashamed of those thoughts and suppresses them as well as he can, but they will need a healthy outlet eventually. The trigger event has also caused him to become claustrophobic and deeply afraid of dark, enclosed spaces.
Residence: Condominium with his father and sister
Parental status: Living with his father | Mother is deceased.
Costume
Mitch's costume was thrown together from the items that he had in his closet, indicating that, despite his powers, Mitch identifies as a regular person more than he does as a parahuman. He wears a practical, nondescript gray tracksuit and a white half-mask that covers the upper portion of his face.
Power
Mitch can create one pair of portals that connect two locations. Matter and energy pass through the portals just as they would pass through normal space, but the portals don’t extend parahumans’ power range to the other side. They can range from about 1 centimeter to 5 meters across in size. By default, they're oval-shaped, but Mitch can "stretch" them into different shapes. He can move the portals through the air after he's created them, both in relation to each other and to their surroundings, but they must be the same size as each other. His portals can't "cut" through anything; solid objects either go through the portal all the way, or don't go through at all. In accordance with the Manton effect, Mitch can't make portals appear inside a living organism. He's also limited to one pair of portals at a time; if he wants to connect another two locations, he has to dismiss the first pair, and there’s a brief delay before he can make new portals.
Power Range
Mitch can generate portals within 20 meters of his current location. He can also make them at any location's he's been to before, but he has to have stood in that exact patch of space. For example, if he's only been in aisles 1 and 3 of a supermarket, he can't make a portal to aisle 2 unless he's currently within 20 meters of it.
Power Safeguards
N/A
PRT Ranking
Mover: 9
Equipment: Pepper spray, pepper spray antidote wipes, a taser, a cell phone, a detailed map of Chicago |
49,224 | 1,329 | 17 | 1,105 | 2,351 | On Patrol
It was just as he had predicted. Boring. Patrols rarely saw any action because people tended to actively avoid committing crimes when they knew there were Capes in the vicinity. Especially PRT Wards. If there were no bad guys to handle then how could Chroma make himself look good? He had already resigned himself to low expectations, but at least Scarlet was accompanying him so he wasn't completely bored. He had someone to talk to, though he probably would talk to himself if she wasn't there. He seemed to be less vigilant and more talkative, hardly looking anywhere but forward unlike his partner. "So that's why the modern American doesn't appreciate the value of studio art as much as they did back in the-"
"Alarm. I'll check."
The interruption worked, prompting Chroma to shut up and turn around. He didn't even hear the bank alarm until Scarlet brought it up. "Ah, so we get to be first responders," he remarked to himself, deliberately pausing a moment to let Scarlet get ahead of him and lead him properly to the source of the alarm. She was much more mobile than he was anyways, being able to leap and bound over the rooftops while he was forced to run along on the ground at the speed of a normal human. It wasn't until she contacted him over the radio earpiece he had that he had a good grasp of the situation. "A bank, you say?" Chroma responded into the radio, chuckling to himself over the irony of his earlier gripes. "I guess it's about time for me to paint us a picture, wouldn't you say?"
He wasn't as quick as Scarlet but Chroma was still able to make it at a decent speed, arriving in front of the bank with the alarms still blaring. There was already a small crowd starting to gather outside it, rubber-neckers trying to see what was going on. And with the arrival of the costumed heroes it became apparent that a robbery actually was taking place. "Alright, Scarlet," Chroma began to talk, running his hand through his hair again and taking a relaxed posture with his body. "Let's get the civilians out of here so I can work my magic. I can't make any art if there are innocent people who might get in the way." He made a spinning motion with his free hand before bringing both together in front of his chest. "First thing's first, I need to prepare a canvas."
The entire bank before them suddenly turned white. All the colors had been completely over-ridden by Chroma's power. The floors, the walls, the ceilings, the desks, the plants, the furnishings, everything had changed to pure white. The people inside, their clothes, and any glass remained unaltered. The new building before them appeared almost surreal in this blank state, but this change actually made it much easier for Chroma and Scarlet. Any movements would be easy to see. There was no way to hide or blend in. This blank canvas would make identifying and targeting enemies that much simpler. "Alright. Now I can make a masterpiece out of this crook." A cocky smirk took Chroma's face as he stepped towards the bank, holding open the front door for the rest of the civilians inside to flood out before he and Scarlet would enter. Surely his entrance wouldn't go unnoticed by the man in the vault, as even there all the colors had changed. There was no question about whether or not a Cape was in the area. "We shall arrest this criminal," Chroma declared to Scarlet, "and we shall do it with style." | Real name:
Alex Rowland
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Hero/Villian name:
Chroma
Affiliation:
Good, Ward
Biography:
A young American teenager born and raised in San Francisco. His father was an artist of varying fields and his mother was an impressionable accountant. Alex was raised in a very liberal household that valued his strengths and ignored his weaknesses, leading to an inflated ego from a young age. They were not a wealthy family, as the only source of income came from his mother's steady job. His father was doing something different every year. One year he is an actor, another he is a painter, but no matter what he's doing it doesn't make money. Alex initially resented that part about his father, but in time he would be indoctrinated by his charismatic old man. Art wasn't meant to make profit, it was meant to entertain. Art was a way of life, not a job.
Alex would receive both Trigger Events simultaneously when he was fifteen and attended his father's very first art show. A culmination of his old man's entire life's works put on display for the public to see. Only it was not well received. It would be an understatement to say the high-class establishment that funded and hosted his event were displeased with his paintings' "child-like" qualities. A crowd gathered to mock and harass the Rowland family. The humiliation didn't stop with the art show, as drunk patrons awaited the Rowland family as they left that night and assaulted them in the street. They would've only attacked Alex's father, but young Alex was quick to succumb to his rage and jumped in. This resulted in the beating of a lifetime, putting him in the hospital alongside his father.
He didn't realize his powers for almost a month after the event, when he was mostly healed from the fight and out of the hospital. An angry Alex was quick to abuse this, destroying the building that catered to the dramatic art show that stained his father's reputation and almost killed the two of them. This put him on the PRT's radar and they approached his family the next day. They were willing to overlook his crime in order to form him into a true hero that could wield his powers wisely and safely. Alex saw this as an opportunity to become famous like his father could not. He accepted the proposal without haste, though his father demanded he wouldn't be taken to the Los Angeles department out of prejudice. The PRT granted their wish and instead sent Alex all the way to Chicago, Illinois. He has since become a Ward for the PRT, donning the alias of Chroma for his superhero acts.
Personality:
Some may be believe Alex to be a genuine and upstanding citizen with impeccable morals and a capacity for empathy. They would be gravely mistaken. Alex Rowland isn't just sly and conniving but incredibly full of himself. An egomaniac that uses justice as a means to parade his greatness. Life is like one big show to him and he's none other than the leading role. He finds himself to be a gift from God and behaves in an accordingly eccentric and extravagant way that often brings up questions of his sexuality. Despite caring for himself above all else he does have some morals, finding it easy to injure but difficult to kill. One can also say that he has decent self-control, but only when he puts on his mask. His arrogance puts off many people, but somehow it is overlooked whenever he dons his superhero costume.
Residence:
PRT Building
Parental status:
Both are alive and well living in San Francisco, California.
Costume:
A white full-body suit with white boots and gloves alongside a black masquerade mask to cover a large part of Alex's face, all the while his hair is slicked back. The costume has no inherent protection value.
Power:
Chromatic Overload - Alex has the power to change the colors of everything around him in the world. Likewise he can "create" his own "colors" that appear to be floating blobs of paint that can have diverse effects when they come into contact with a target. He can then fling these masses of color at his opponents as a means of combat. RED would burn, BLUE would drench, YELLOW would electrify, etc. The effects cannot be interchanged between colors as they are unique to their individual coloring. While most of his powers revolve around "adding" color, Alex also has the ability to "subtract" color which will turn the affected object or person invisible. The effects of Chromatic Overload's color-changing aspect can be negated by Trump powers or by exiting Alex's range, but the color that is created can only be removed by Alex or Trump powers, making their effects possibly permanent.
Power range:
100m general range. Colors can only be created and manipulated less than 1m away from his hands, afterwards it is entirely based on momentum and can no longer be controlled, only erased. Thrown colors cannot exit the 100m range unless they land on something, at which point they can. Colors can be changed at the full 100m range, same with removing colors. Changed colors that go beyond the 100m range will naturally revert to their natural colors without any intervention. Any object that has had its colors removed will also return to normal once it passes the 100m range.
Power safeguards:
Alex has complete immunity to his own powers. He cannot change his own colors, he cannot apply colors to himself, and he cannot take colors away from himself. This only applies to his body directly, as he can still use Chromatic Overload on his clothes and equipment just fine.
PRT ranking:
Blaster: 6
Striker: 3
Changer: 5
Stranger: 3
Weapons:
Alex carries no weapons. |
49,225 | 1,329 | 18 | 732 | 8,842 | Regus had just entered the main vault when everything turned white. Which was very bad. First off, it meant he was as visible as, well a black spot on a clean canvas. Second, it meant a cape had shown up, that one color guy and worse yet, capes rarely traveled alone. Chromatic? Was that it? He'd busted several of the smaller gang operations before and Regus didn't know much about him other than that he had a flair for the dramatic and used colors. Whatever, he should be able to get out of here before anyone caught him. Regus began stuffing wads of pure white bills into his bag, as much as he could reasonably fit, a little more actually. No time to zip the bag, Regus ran straight to the back wall and applied his power. He waited a few moments for the feeling of control to spread throughout the wall. Weaken the edges of a block of it, feel it detach from the surrounding walls, then make the middle less solid, but still solid. Then he shoved as hard as he could. A block of the steel and brick, about the size of a large door, was shoved out into the street, sliding across the pavement, road, and crashing into a car.
The ride was relatively smooth, and Blackout spent most of it smiling to himself. It probably was more then a bit creepy. Regardless, he was mentally preparing himself, wondering who he'd fight, if anyone. The main plan was obvious; Asisst and help escape, but Blackout knew it was more then that. He wanted to hurt them, the Wards, the Protectorate, anyone who he could just. . . Make feel his pain. Waves upon waves of euphoria washed over him as he thought more and more about it. On the outside he was just fidgeting, playing with his knife and grinning widely, though it'd be hard to see that through his helmet.
Blackout blinked in surprise as a small display lit up the helmet, and jumped a little, quickly exploring it. "How long has it been able to do this? Is this Tinkerfab?" He mumbled, looking at everything it displayed. At the top right was a small signal bar which showed four bars. A small circular loading bar was next to that, and at the bottom left it said "Searching. . ." in small gray print. Suddenly a quite beep of confirmation played making Blackout jump even more then the first. He probably looked crazy, but that wasn't deceiving. He was more then a little bit off kilter. In his ear he heard a static filled radio signal which said, directly into his ears, "PRT officials are on their way, Wards are already on scene. Set up an ambush, this isn't just a bank robbery, it's a statement. We're going to make the Protecterate fear us. Blackout, you've arrived." as he listened, he slowly put the pieces together. He now had radio contract with who he assumed to be The Boss.
At the last word, spoken by The Boss the van stopped, and Blackout jumped up, and pushed his way out of the van. He opened the doors quickly, and a little ways behind them a large block of steel, brick was pushed, hard, into a car, almost completely destroying it. "Shit. Serephina, our backup is here," He said to the girl behind him, the grin still stuck to his face. It then came to his attention that the entire bank was stark white.
Regus was panting a little, partly from exertion and partly from adrenaline. He ran out the hole he had created and saw a large black van pull up and someone jump out. Either it was the FBI or the Boss, though given that the one guy that jumped out didn't have a heavy duty rifle or containment foam and wasn't charging him, it was the latter. Regus ran over, lugging the heavy bag, several of the color-less bills spilling out on the way, and tossed it into the van. "What's the plan?" He hoped there was a plan. There better be a plan.
Serephina jumped out of the back of the van not sure whether to feel scared, excited, or both. Odette was once again nestled into the bigger pouch of her backpack and let out a small, high pitched sound at the new noises, smells, and people around her. This whole scene around her was quite a sight and now she decided to feel excited. She had obviously committed small crimes before but she had never been involved or knew anyone who had robbed a bank before. "So exactly what is going on here and how am I going to help? How CAN I help? I'm literally just a cape with a cat. . ." She fingered her small knife in the waist of her pants and realized that she would probably need a WAY better weapon if she was going to get anywhere with these people. These people were obviously criminals that were doing this for one reason or another she just wasn't sure if she wanted to be a part of it yet.
Maybe she would take part in this mission and decide from there. She kind of liked being on her own but at the same time, she loved having a system of comradery and friends among her. The guy that had just done the majority of this bank robbery was clearly not stable and may be quite dangerous so she may want to keep her distance from him. But Blackout didn't seem much better. If she sat there and thought about it anymore, she would probably begin to question why she was putting herself in this much danger then chicken out and activate her invisibility to flee with Odette in her arms, go back to Blackout's warehouse, steal his things and never be seen again. But this could be fun if she did things right and she may even get thousands of dollars out of it.
She then caught a glimpse of the dollar bills and lost all hope for this mission when she saw that they were completely blank. Nothing on them. She didn't know if the others knew this or not but in the real world, blank pieces of paper couldn't get you anything. In all reality, these people and this mission was looking more and more unstable and pointless by the minute. She turned and said to Blackout, "So what are we even doing this for? There's nothing on these bills. We can't do anything with them!"
Blackout seemed surprised by her sudden hostility."It wears off, silly," He said smiling widely, "They'll return to normal soon enough, but for now-" He cracked his gloved knuckles "-we beat the shit out of some wards. You," He pointed at the new kid, his grin widening, "Can you give me some sort of disguised cover? I need to get close to use my power. I'm Blackout by the way." As he spoke he started walking back towards the bank, his grin growing wider as his plan started to come to fruition in his head.
Blackout? Like the Blackout? He was here with Blackout and the plan was to fight the wards? Regus had signed up for a bank robbery, not a brawl. However he had a feeling that 'no' wasn't really an answer in this case. It tended not to be in the case of big money like this. Regus had been a bit worried about the whole blank bills thing, but if they were going to change back that was fine. How was he supposed to do disguised cover again? His power wasn't really that subtle. Uh, he could harden his clothes but that would limit movement. He could reach his power through anything he was affecting, so he could give Blackout something he was controlling and activate his power reactivately? Regus snatched a small rock off the ground and tossed it at Blackout, the rock clung to his clothing like it was glued on. "Got your cover." he said simply and cautiously started after Blackout. As long as he was fast enough he should be able to block practically anything short of concentrated gun fire. Maybe. Regus hadn't gotten into a fight since he'd triggered so he wasn't sure the extent that he could harden something as basic as clothes. Of course it would've been far better if they had just left without fighting, but Regus was willing to do a lot of things for a million dollars.
Serephina trailed behind the two slowly trying to think of what she could do to help this seemingly unorganized process. Odette padded alongside her quietly. She wondered if she could use her powers as a distraction when the wards came. Maybe she could carry some money and disappear to a location she was told to head towards. That could be VERY helpful with multiple trips.
She then began to wonder what this guy who had robbed the bank was all about. What was his deal? He had acted like Blackout was some sort of celebrity when they showed up but then chucked a rock at his head out of nowhere? There must have been some reason but she didn't quite understand what it could be. This guy must have had some issues no one knew about, but then that's the backstory of most capes in general.
"So what am I exactly needed here for? You told me the Boss was going to use me for something but never told me what. You're lucky I came in the first place. But then again, I need the money. So whatever you need me to do, I'll gladly help as long as we have a plan. I'm not comfortable going into a dangerous situation like this with no sort of escape plans or backups." She said to Blackout, who seemed to not be paying attention to her at all. He seemed to be completely lost in his own world and not even considering the situation around him in present time. Odette mewed up at her softly, wanting to be picked up. "Come here." she said with a smile and waited for Blackout's response slowly stroking Odette's soft grey fur.
Blackout glanced down at the rock looking very confused. "No, cover. Ya know. . . Something to hide behind, so I can surprise the Wards. Since I can stop them from using their powers. They probably aren't well trained in close quarters combat. Also stay away from me if you wanna use your powers. We're gonna try and isolate them, then incapacitate them within-" The voice in his head said ten minutes "-Ten minutes!" As he spoke he pulled out his handgun, loading a magazine into it. "Oh you, Ms. Angel, three things. One, I want you to sneak around the building and get behind them. Two, stab them in the hip if you get the chance. Three, stay quite the entire time, don't stop being invisible till one of them is unable to fight. Don't kill, yet." He explained, testing his sights, and waiting for Regus to do something productive.
Regus frowned under his mask, did he want like, a wall? Cause he'd asked for something disguised and he couldn't disguise a wall really. His eyes went to the now loaded gun, dang Blackout was playing for keeps, even if he'd told Angel not to kill anyone, the key word was yet. Regus gripped the road and took a deep breath. Detach, lighten, solid but less solid. Regus rose upwards, a good section of the road coming with him, about four people long and two people tall. Regus wasn't good at measurements. "Will this do?" He asked roughly, hefting the section of road like it was made of cardboard. Some of the edges piratically dripped off, like they had been melted. If Blackout'd wanted a wall to hide behind he should've just asked. Hopefully when Blackout did... his thing, the chunk of road didn't go back to normal, or else that could get very bad very fast.
"Definitely!" Blackout said, grinning widely, and looking like a kid in a candy store. He walked behind it, and signaled for Regus to join him, then signaled the driver in the van. He spoke into the mic on his helmet saying, seemingly to himself, "Leave when the Wards appear, driver. Circle the block, and come back when I say so." After he finished talking, he turned to Regus and quickly said, "Radio silence when my power is active, otherwise you will just confuse yourself. I'll give a pretty distinct signal when it's about to activate."
"Angel girl? Should have known you would take advantage of a name like that Mr. Broken Telephone Wire. Considering we're working together for now, I don't care if you insult me but when we aren't, you should probably watch your step." The impending battle being so close at hand, Serephina commanded Odette to jump into her backpack and zipped it shut completely. She had used her knife to tear holes in the sides to act as air holes a while ago. She would be completely fine in there. If something happened to her cat, she didn't know what she would do.
She planned to activate her power as soon as the van left and stay invisible as the wards came by her and then attack as they passed. Her knife was not very strong but the rust on the blade would act as an even more devestating factor in the stabbing. Although she didn't understand why she was not being ordered to KILL them, Blackout was the one giving orders right now and she wasn't going to go against them if she wanted her money. She leaned against the wall Regus had made and spoke to Odette quietly. Her adrenaline had begun to build as she waited and she happily said to Odette, "By the time this is over, you will have all the wet food you could ever eat okay? We won't have to worry about a thing." A smirk spread across her face.
Regus, Blackout, and Serephina meet up outside the bank and are ready to fight the wards. | Real name:
Regus Exavius (Identity as villain, Unknown)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Typically wears dull gray or black clothes, comfortable sweatpants he can run in and basic sneakers. Also wears these under his costume.
Hero/Villian name:
Drho
Affiliation:
Evil
Biography:
Regus was born in Chicago, both his parents safe and sound. His mother was a smart women who wasn't keen on doing work. As a result she managed to latch onto a very wealthy business man who happened to be short on family. Regus was pampered to his heart's content in his childhood, just not by his parents. His father was always far too busy with, well business, and his mother was always out spending her husband's money on feeding her addictions and going to parties. Not that she told him, to his father's knowledge his mother was either caring for Regus or running errands. Not to say Regus wasn't happy, quite the opposite. Like his mother his free time was greatly enhanced by his father's money. The newest game system, nicest clothes, best food. You name it Regus had it. School was easy both ways for him, Regus's natural intelligence and influential father gave him good grades and better friends, both with little effort. Regus's life was a gilded road, perfect student, star of the swim team, likable. Life was good. Then it slowly became not.
Regus was pampered not stupid. He noticed that things stopped becoming quite so gilded. He didn't ride to school in a limo anymore. Christmas was no longer a showering of gifts, barely a light drizzle. Forced smiles and nervous glances the few times they had family dinners. When his parents thought he was asleep or didn't care there were furious shouting matches.They were in debt. Regus's grades began slipping as his classes got harder and his focus dropped. He'd seen enough TV to know what was going on. Divorce was all be inevitable. Or it would've been if his father hadn't died of a stroke. At least that's what the police concluded. Regus knew better of course. His mother knew people. All kinds of people. He'd seen her come home with the powder, at first he thought it was just another one of her drugs. Then he saw her slip it in the wine. Addicting his father too? It'd come together when his father convulsed, dying within minutes. Regus knew had happened. The mansion they lived in was sold off, everything in it. They rented a sleezy apartment and his mother continued her lifestyle, living off her husbands money, searching for someone else when she burnt through that.
She never got that far though. After she'd done an admirable job of burning through nearly all of her funds she'd gotten herself arrested. It was a life sentence for several compiled offences. Ranging from possession and intent to sell all the way to murder. Not his father's but for several others. Regus was surprised, he'd known his mother wasn't the best person and had killed his father, but he hadn't known she'd killed others. Not perhaps it shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. Regardless Regus was left in a lurch. He'd barely managed to graduate, didn't have any job skills, and was practically penniless. Regus ended up joining a gang, only half by choice. They'd been very insistent in recruiting him and leaving wasn't really an option for him. After going through his initiation he quickly found out you were either all in or all out. And once you were all in, you didn't get out. The crew had a couple of capes leading it. After several months of reluctantly committing crimes and doing as little as he could get away with.
Then one morning he woke up in a metal box. It barely fit him, his legs were curled up to his chest with hardly an inch of space to move in any given direction. Several hours of screaming until his voice grew hoarse bore no result. He clawed as best he could at the walls trapping him until his fingers bleed but it bore no result. Regus was in there for days. He never found out how long. Sometime in the haze of cramped limbs, gasping for air, and the headache ringing through his skull it got worse. A metal spike was driven through the metal box skewering his arm. And another one right next to it. Regus thought he couldn't scream anymore, he'd been wrong. When he woke up he found the metal box looked like it melted around him, in solidified lumps on the ground around him. The spike wasn't there anymore either. Regus shakily got to hands and knees, then looked around. There was a chair, with a half eaten sandwich on the ground to it. He was in some random alleyway. He crawled to the sandwich and devoured it. There was still a hole in his arm that had somehow managed to stop bleeding. Regus managed to get to his feet leaning against a wall for support. A wallet. There was a wallet on the chair. Regus snatched it and rifled through it, nearly a hundred bucks, enough to survive for a while. He managed to stagger his way into a cafe and get some more food, funny looks aside, it was Chicago, they'd seen worse.
He managed to find out that his gang had gotten taken down at one of the big meetings. The PRT had gone full force on them and no one had made it out. Still didn't explain what he'd been doing in a metal box with a hole through his arm. He used the reminder of the money on medical supplies as best he could to patch up his arm. Then he found out his power. He'd wearily leaned against a bench to rest, still drained from the experience and the bench bent beneath his weight like playdoh. Several experiments later he'd confirmed it. He had powers. Regus must've had a trigger event in that hellish box. Over the next few days Regus consumed his food supply and tested the extent of his powers. With no money, no one he knew, and nothing else to go on. Crime came naturally. When you could nearly literally walk through walls, stealing was easy. At first it was small things. Food, jewelry, but then he experimented more with power. Become used to it. He got easier and the prizes he took bigger and more valuable. Regus wasn't surviving anymore, he was living. Better off than any other seventeen year old he knew. Of course he didn't really know any so the point was moot.
Personality:
Regus is as you might expect, somewhat disillusioned with the world. People suck. However Regus isn't what he would call a bad person. He doesn't go out his way to make people's lives suck. His difficult life has given him an amazing amount of tenacity as well as a distrust of people. Regus is very confident in himself and his abilities but always tries to have a backup plan. Overall he gives off a lazy impression but this is more to deceive people than anything else.
A passing glance won't reveal his self-assurance in the way he carries himself, however when he is caped its quite clear. Still new to the villain business Regus is out for himself, not actively hurting anyone per say, just looking out for himself. Luckily he's managed to avoid any major confrontations with any capes or police force but he knows it won't last for long. He's prepared to do whatever it takes if that becomes the case. Though he hopes it won't come to that.
Residence:
Crummy Apartment
Parental status:
Father dead, Mother in jail.
Costume:
Long flowing black robes to conceal his identity and for use with his power. Also wears a demon face-mask
Power:
Regus can manipulate an object's density. The most frequent thing he does with this is makes things soft, like puddy, so he can push, squish, and reshape them. This allows him to go through conventional barriers with ease by softening them and tearing them apart. In addition he can use it to make things more stiff. For example he could make clothing have the rigidness of a brick, that is to say it doesn't move anymore it remains solid against any force that pushes against it.
This allows him to immobilize people rather easily by hardening their clothes. This effect wears off after around ten minutes or if Regus removes the effects. Regus can do something like puddy-ify a TV and squish into a ball then reform it, but he wouldn't be able to change the dimensions into say a bigger TV, or turn it into another piece of machinery, though this is more a lack of knowledge than ability. The same applies to other objects. Manton effect applies.
Power range:
1 meter around his body 2 meter through contact of modified objects. Constant throughout effected area.
Power safeguards:N/A
PRT ranking:
Changer: 8
Stranger: 2
Brute:6
Striker: 5
Weapons:
A bullwhip
Misc: |
49,226 | 1,329 | 19 | 2,223 | 11 | Outside (Not so? Very?) Crummy bank
Staying in the bank after some Ward sstarted barking commands at the civilians inside, compelled Spencer's breath to speed up as she fearfully cast her eyes around the crowd. She spotted a parahuman aura from the corner of her eye. "okay maybe they're not after me," she thought as she tucked the roll of money she had just recently received from a Teller into her combat boot.
Looking back up at the cape, her eyes drank him in, letting the aura stretch and touch her. Parahumans had such beautiful auras, if only she could see hers. . . She'd never look away. They had these silver strings made of light that waved as if they were flowing in the breeze. His normal aura was red-orange, which meant excitement. Obviously he was the cause of all this shouting that would give Spencer a headache later. The red-orange was grossly incandescent and mixed with a light green and aqua blue. That could only mean guilt and apprehension. She smirked as she began feeding him more guilt with her power, her plan she hoped he'd turn himself in. | Real name:
Spencer
(Not public knowledge Spencer is a cape)
Gender:
N/A
Appearance is sociably acceptable as female.
Appearance:
Dark waist length hair, bangs are chin length and lavender as are the end of their hair, green/emerald eyes, 6'1, left arm has a sleeve of tribal/vine/flower tattoos
Hero/Villian name:
Undecided
Affiliation:
Evil Rogue
Biography:
Spencer was born to an English/German mother and Arabic father, hence her tan skin and dark hair, in New York. Born an only child, the first few years were simple and sweet. Until, at age 6, her parents tried to have another child. Her mother carried her unborn sibling for 5 months before sadly the child didn't make it.
Her mother and father were wrecked afterwards and took out their misfortune on their first and only child. That's why her mental state went to shit. Now she suffers with a manic bipolar disorder and mild depression. Including the beatings she was not feed regularly so she had to go to stealing and as time went by she got good at it.
Age 10 to 14 they were bullied for her/their ripped dark cloths and low class. During those times she would try to stay in the background and hide. But she was always kind to those around her. Home for her was still rough and hiding the bruises and cuts became more difficult. She didn't think it could get worse. It did.
The Leviathan attack on New York killed both her parents as she looked on from inside an Endbringer vault. Ironically enough, despite the abuse, this triggered Spencer. Though she didn't display her power, she did start testing it. Her tests soon made her realize she could manipulate people's emotions.
As a refugee she was sent to Chicago to live in an orphanage while attending one of the worse off schools. Fortunately it was still better then the ghettos she lived in in New York.
As more time went on she realized she could give off bits and pieces of her emotions to those around as well as see the aura of their personality around them. The more she used her power in the person the easier it was.
After a long time of being frustrated with the normal necessities of life that she couldn't get at the orphanage she began plundering again. Money, clothes, drugs, you name it. She often uses her power to help avoid being caught.
Personality:
Spencer is always happy to hers and those around hers knowledge, though she is fairly short tempered because of her bipolar disorder. She is also very strange and not regular "there". She has fun manipulating people she has no liking for.
Residence:
Nomad. They move around.
Parental status:
Both deceased: Died in leviathan attack.
Costume:
Undecided by Spencer.
Power:
Can make people she knows the location of feel emotions. The better she's knows the person the easier the target. When transferring the emotion, depending on the level she gives, the same level of emotion she will lack (Example: she's depressed and transfers someone near her to be sad her depression will falter). She can see emotions in the form of hazy colors around others like an aura. Depending on the emotion the color changes.
Power range:
As far as needed, with the maximum distance being a mile. The more she know the person the easier the power is to use on them.
Power safeguards:
N/A
PRT ranking:
Stranger 3
shaker: 1
Thinker: 1
Master: 4
Weapons:
A knife. Always a knife. An Arabian styled dagger, the last thing she has from her father. |
49,227 | 1,329 | 20 | 2,749 | 2,491 | Gael, Verens Estrada
Having settled into his new Chicago home several days prior, Gael was standing in his room gazing out the window. The house was situated in the middle of his block, but it was taller than the surrounding houses by a whole floor, making it a three-floor residence, not including the basement. With his room situated facing the street he had a relatively clear view of both his own neighborhood and some of the surrounding area--though he did wish he could have convinced someone for a larger place. Granted, he could have chosen an apartment in the middle of the city, but that would have made it more difficult for him to fall back to if need be. Hiding out away from the center of the city or its hot-spots where he might eventually be particularly active was probably wise.
So he had compromised a higher vantage point for a safer location. Give and take, that's what many things were...except for relationships it seemed. People had never given enough, so he had to take and take and take. It was annoying, but he had long since discounted it as a result of base human stupidity.
His mind turning to a new series of thoughts, Gael closed his eyes a moment, checking on the exploits of his working parents in their respective places of employment. He was working them to the bone, making sure they saved up extra money. It was all about playing the long game really. Still their measly income wasn't enough for what he had in mind for the Windy City.
Far from it.
Noting that his parents were faring just fine, their workplaces not too far for his ability to just reach them, not to mention that his control wouldn't just suddenly cease. It took time, and they wouldn't be away from him long enough to recover. Not even close. Opening his eyes and turning away from the window, Gael turned to his left and walked to his work desk.
On its left were a series of file dividers, which served the purpose of holding a series of folders in which there were various sketches and plans. All of them were in the form of a storyboard, making it appear as if he was planning to write a book or sketch out a comic of some sort, but couldn't decide which he preferred yet. The reality was that they were plans for his career as a cape. More specifically as a villain.
He had a great deal of things planned out. Contingencies. Some for Chicago, codenamed Thýella, meaning tempest in greek, some for where he'd grown up. A few for other places, but that was much too far down the line now. He had needed to move to a quick response area. Somewhere that the Wards, Protectorate, and PRT would show up in often.
Chicago had been his choice. Now that he was here he needed to do research and one of the ways he was doing so was through the internet, going through popular forums...and not so popular ones as well. The latter were the more important of the two. Leaning over his desk he searched through a few sites, flickering between pages and reading faster than a normal human would've been able to.
Once he'd looked for a bit a grin came across his face, he stood up and he slipped his T-shirt over his head before applying pressure to several places on his desk and then slipping a hidden drawer out of it. He extracted his hoodie, T-shirt, sun glasses, and other cape objects. He donned the T-shirt, tied the hoodie around his waist, then slipped a long sleeve shirt over the patterned shirt. He made sure to bring the T-shirt he'd had on earlier with him.
While it was unlikely that anyone would recognize the shirt yet, he figured it was better that no one saw it as he exited his house than if someone did and recognized it later.
Once he had prepared, making sure to take some eye drops and extra contacts, in addition to his sunglasses, he exited his room and headed down the hallway before he went downstairs, heading for the ground floor.
He had chosen his room to be on the third floor while his parents' room was below. After all if an unwanted guest visited his home, they'd have to go through two floors and his parents before they got to him. By then he could use the tree in the backyard, which was conveniently situated near a window at the far end of the hall opposite the stairs.
Reaching the ground floor he passed through the living room, entering the kitchen and briefly making himself a sandwich before he extricated a Mountain Dew from the fridge. With keys on his person Gael exited the house, locking it behind him before hiding his keys in the usual spot beneath the wooden stairs of the house's porch.
Happy with himself he debated on whether he ought to take the remaining car that his parent's had left or if he should take the bus instead. Eventually figuring that he could always park it a ways off. It helped that he knew he would sense parahumans and any antics they might be up to before they would even see him drive by.
This in mind he sighed and turned around, slipping his keys back out of the small nook beneath the porch. After a few minutes he was off, the garage closing behind him automatically and the car pulling out of the drive way. It really was nice having your parents as slaves. You could never do them wrong.
Everything was just...easier. As he thought it he felt a pang of emptiness somewhere in his psyche. Frowning, he flipped the radio on and turned it up, drowning himself in the music while he drove closer to Chicago's center.
Eventually, once he was close enough, he exited the freeway and took less traveled roads, scanning the area with his field of influence in the form of a three-dimensional web. Some things slipped through, but most of them weren't people. This way he gathered psychic energy and scoped out the area in one go.
It was efficient.
For most of his ride he found little of interest except the occasional distress of a random human as well as the rare parahuman going about their daily life. It brought a not so pleasant grin to his face knowing that he might unmask or use a parahuman's identity against them if he ever neared them when they weren't in costume. He'd never make it public knowledge, but often the threat of doing so would likely be enough to garner favors. Still he knew he'd make enemies fast if he went that route.
So he wouldn't. Not yet at least. Not till later.
Another ten minutes passed and he was about to decide he'd got a good enough feel for the lay of the land until he detected an odd number of capes in the same area as well as distress, anxiety and...adrenaline. A smirk spread over his face, he parked the car in the parking lot of a restaurant he figured he could enjoy later and then got out. Slipping out of the parking lot and into an alley several blocks up, making sure there were no cameras nearby before he slipped out of his long sleeve shirt, slipped his hoodie on and carefully took out his contacts.
Once he was done he looked around, eventually finding a trash can to stow his stuff in. Balling up his shirt around his keys, Gael made sure to stuff the long sleeve shirt into the short sleeve shirt he'd brought along before shoving it into the garbage can, using his gloved hands to shake the can so as to bury it somewhat. He'd dump it out later to retrieve the clothes. Better to hide them well and have something shitty to wear as disguise, than to be seen in the shirt once he'd revealed himself to the public in any fashion.
Or...that was the idea at least.
Pulling his hood over his head, Gael took in a deep breath, closing his eyes a moment as he flexed his power. He felt all the people around him, connecting thin strands of his field to each, making sure they always overlapped with strands that touched his body. He focused the web around people with lowered guards, but didn't press their minds instead allowing his power to focus on draining them.
The energy continued to build up in his field and he could feel traits and perspectives filtering into his mind. When he opened his eyes a minute later they were a fierce glowing pink that shone out from his hood. He directed a repeated suggestion towards anyone near the alley to disregard his presence and while it didn't make them look away their attention would shift subtly to something else.
He left the impression vague and so it was that he walked out of the alley unnoticed even if he had been seen.
At a leisurely pace he made his way towards the location of the parahumans he had sensed earlier. When his net touched the first two he began reading and draining. He started honing in on the capes, counting them as he made his approach.
“One, two. Oh there's three more. One more in the building and another somewhere outside, oh this'll be fun,” he said his grin spreading wider. He narrowed his field further cutting off people who seemed to be even slightly resisting his drain. He quickly sifted through various surface thoughts he was picking up from those he was draining and as he did so he filtered out the thoughts of any normal humans he'd been draining before. He then isolated each of the seven capes to separate trains of thought in his mind and began analysis on each. Swiftly he noticed certain trends and associations. Three of them were working together, as evidenced by their communication and close proximity. There was an outsider who was meandering near the bank and someone who'd been caught up in the events inside. Hopefully neither would be problematic if not he'd just have to adapt.
Then there were the two others who were near one another. As he came into view of the scene, still a block or so away, but on the same street, he noted the color of the bank. As the two capes standing in plain view were revealed to him, his eyes darkened.
It may have been day time, but Nightfall was close on hand and it didn't seem that any of them were yet the wiser.
Not that they could've been.
Hopefully there weren't any power nullifiers close enough to stop him. That would be rather annoying. He'd keep a distance till he got a read on their powers. That was probably best. | Gael, Verens Estrada
Theme
His real name is unknown to the public.
Gender:
Male.
Appearance:
Of relatively average build for a teenage boy of 19, Gael stands at 5'6 and weighs roughly 175 lbs. When not out in the guise of Scour, Gael wears blue contacts. His eyes, as such, tend to take on a purple coloration due to the light pink and purple blending with the contacts. He carries around sunglasses as well and never wears the shirt with the 'eye emblem' on it.
Cape Alias:
Nightfall.
This name is one he's given himself. However, should the PRT name him something else he is unlikely to correct them. After all, this name alludes to the true nature of his ability, which is something that most are unlikely to fully grasp.
Affiliation:
Villain/Criminal.
Biography:
Growing up in a broken family, Gael quickly came to know the manipulative and unhealthy side of humanity. Even as a young child he watched his mother and father fight and bicker, sometimes striking one another. At first it was frightening, but as time went on he grew used to their dispositions and learned to deal with them. While some children might cower or run, Gael learned to manipulate his parents to get what he wanted and as he grew older this began to extend to others around him. However while he could manipulate his peers and his parents, school authorities served to be...less accepting of his behavior and so, one day in highschool and at the age of 16 his parents, James and Sarah received a call from one of their son's teachers.
All was well when his parents came to school to pick the boy up and bring him home, but upon leaving the building and arriving back home the two practically went ballistic on Gael, with his mother screaming at him and his father eventually growing so angry with his lack of response, punching him hard enough to knock him off his feet.
So unaccustomed to people retaliating to him was Gael that he hit a low point. He felt tears run down his face as he glared back up at his father, his head still reeling. The man glowered right back at him and, gritting his teeth, kicked Gael in the stomach. By now his mother began yelling at James, calling the punishment overboard, but Gael had long become deaf to them. A feeling of weakness and inexplicable anger built up in him till it rose to a peak and then suddenly it was as if everything went cold.
As his parents argued, the adolescent rose to his feet behind them, his face bruised and stomach aching from his father's blows. However, a small grin was on his face as he stared at his parents argue and then outright begin striking one another. Noticing his son's grin, James ceased the struggle with his wife and approached his son yelling at him, “Do you think this is funny!? You could have been expelled. After all your mom and I do for you, you pull some shit like this and then have the gall to grin at me like that!” His father raised his fist when Gael did not respond, but never went through with the strike as before he could it would seem as if all the color in the man's face would drain away at which point he crumpled down to his knees.
Afraid, Gael's mother went to the man, pleading with him to explain what was wrong. All the while Gael smirked down at them smugly. He wasn't sure how he had done it, but he knew it was his fault that his father had lost all his will to fight just then. The same happened to his mother as she looked up at him, tears in her eyes. Immediately a look of terror entered her eyes as she saw the eerie glow of her son's eyes and the strange lines of light that had spread from them. She tried to push herself away from him, which incited a small chuckle from Gael before he raised his hand, knowing what to do by instinct alone, and immediately his mother collapsed, unconscious.
- - - - -
In the days following the event, Gael's parents wouldn't even look at him, but due to the influence of his ability, had no will to contact anyone for help. Using this to his advantage he continued to highschool eventually graduating only a year later as he excelled far beyond his peers.
Applying with scholarship and financial aid to a rather prestigious college in Chicago, Gael convinced his largely subservient parents to move, and so they did. This puts us in the present time where merely using his abilities on “mundanes,” has grown boring to him.
As such he's begun going on outings, mainly at night, to stir up trouble in hope of attracting local do-gooders so he can break them too. He's not sure where he's going, but if it's anything like the last year or so, then it can only be more fun and to Gael that's really all that matters. Even if his idea of fun is...skewed.
Personality:
In short Gael is a manipulative, egocentric personality with narcissistic tendencies and a relatively small capacity for empathy. He uses people to achieve his ends, he's two faced and he lies more easily than he tells the truth. One might call him a social chameleon and they'd be right in saying as such, because it is often that he either blends in or instead chooses to use his charisma to create his own clique. Still, Gael is not all bad, as few are, and is rather a damaged boy with a lot of very bad habits and a closed heart.
Rather than face his flaws and insecurities he has long since locked them away, instead retaliating with a cold anger when questioned or confronted about how he treats people. He is stubborn, indignant and, well, arrogant not to mention he has a superiority complex. Overall he's what most would consider a toxic personality and really, they're right. Nonetheless, if perhaps he got some help for his issues he could improve. Until then he's only going to get worse and his rapidly growing intellect is going to make his decline into the darker end of the moral spectrum hell for everyone around him.
Residence:
Gael lives in his parent's house in the suburbs of Chicago.
Parental status:
While his Mother and Father are both alive, they are essentially puppets to him, set on a sort of autopilot which allows them to appear fairly normal to others.
Costume:
He tends to wear a black hoodie with a matching T-shirt beneath. On the shirt is a stylistic drawing of an eye. He wears black jeans and no mask. Instead his hoodie or his ability often obscures his identity. Gael carries his cellphone, which he's had jury rigged and set up with 20 lock screens unless he turns that setting off. He wears a pair of gloves so his fingerprints are never left behind. Additionally he carries a bottle of pepper spray.
Power:
Gael's ability focuses around an invisible aura, which he can utilize to siphon psychic energy, mentally draining humans and weakening the powers of parahumans before affecting their mind as well. This energy, once obtained, is assimilated by Gael by way of a secondary nervous system which stores and allocates his additional mental capacity. Personality traits are retained within psychic energy causing Gael's mind to be more of a hivemind than a normal human one. Aside from this is Gael's capacity to harness psychic energy he has gathered and focus it to attack the minds of others, penetrating their thoughts and weakening them. Conversely he might bolster or enhance communication with teammates should he use his power more constructively. Nonetheless, perhaps the most dangerous aspect of his ability is the result of prolonged exposure as over time one's suggestibility to Gael is increased while the capacity for conscious thought and decision making is decreased. While indeed a frightening prospect, this is something that would take days, weeks, or even months to achieve at best with the longest being years.
While the above details the majority of his ability's manifestation, Gael's perception was also effected by his trigger event, from that day on allowing him to see both his own aura and those of others. He can do this either with his eyes or by making contact with his aura. However doing so with just his aura will only notify him of an individual's mental state, whereas his eyes will tell him whether an individual is human or parahuman. A smoother aura is indicative of a more stable psyche whereas a rougher or scattered aura indicate an unstable or less stable one. Parahumans, in addition to possessing an aura texture also have colored auras while normal humans are perceived as gray scale. Brighter colors denote non-physical abilities, the brighter the color the more potent the ability while darker colors indicate more physical abilities. Neutral colors are somewhere in between the two or are abilities that cannot be clearly defined by either category. The color, aside from its brightness, seems to indicate the nature of the person more than it does the nature of their ability.
Notes: Gael's abilities can be subverted by the occasional Stranger-type ability. Being aware of his ability, its effect on you, or being averse to him in general makes you more resistant to his influence. Individuals with Thinker or Trump abilities are most resistant to him, with some Thinkers perhaps being entirely immune. However, power nullification does not work on him once you enter his field of influence—though it does make one more resistant to him. Gael is capable of siphoning psychic energy via direct physical contact, this method is the most efficient and as such drains people faster.
Power range:
Gael's ability, while possessing a relatively large area of effect, does not have a conventional range. Instead his area of influence, when unaltered, is a sphere with a 10 meter radius. Gael can redistribute the volume of these sphere thus altering its shape and allowing him to extend his range up to roughly 2.6 miles if he were to condense it into a single hyper-thin string.
Power safeguards:
While Gael's ability does not guard him against much it does make him largely immune to abilities that would seek to influence the mind. Additionally it gives him some measure of resistance to Trump abilities. Beyond this Gael's ability only makes him truly immune to two things, these being sensory overload and psychological breakdowns. This is largely due to the nature of his trigger event.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 7.
Master: 5.
Shaker: 4.
Striker: 4.
Trump: 3.
Weapons:
Gael carries a light, but durable baton that can extend and retract. Its minimum size is roughly 1.5 feet, while its max length when extended is 6 feet. The end of the baton has a sharp point and the baton will lock in place when opened unless pressure is applied on the handle. |
49,228 | 1,329 | 21 | 1,105 | 2,351 | The Bank
The blonde Ward began striding into the bank, hopping over the tellers' counter and looking around. If the alarm was going off then the perpetrators must already be in the vault, considering the time it took to arrive on-scene. "Actually, Scarlet," Chroma spoke up, looking back to his partner. "You go back to the front and go around the building. Or over it. Something like that. If we're dealing with Capes then they might already be outside. Keep a lookout." His red-haired partner nodded in agreement and the two went their separate ways. Scarlet was to head outside and scout around the outside of the building. Chroma was to go further in, towards the vault. "Ah, but safety first." Chroma held his hands out in front of himself, a blob of dull grey paint forming in the air between his hands.
The shapeless blob expanded in size, becoming the size of an exercise ball, before floating back towards Chroma himself. The floating paint expanded and spread out over his body, covering most of him in the grey paint. While it still retained a wet appearance it didn't drip off him in the slightest nor did any one area appear to have more paint than the others. It was perfectly spread out evenly. Only his head didn't have the paint, though his mask was coated for some level of face protection. The grey paint had a consistency of steel. Usually a thin bodysuit like the one Chroma had wouldn't stop any kind of bullet, but now he was like a walking steel wall. He had a negligible amount of extra weight, so this was arguably better than standard military body armor.
As the now grey Ward approached the vault he was quick to realize that there were parahuman shenanigans going on. The back of the vault had a very visible hole in the wall. But it was a shapely hole, not like something made from an explosive. It was as if a square (or more properly a rectangle) was removed from it whole. "Oh boy, this is gonna be good," he mused to himself as he carefully stepped into the vault itself. With his white-washing plan there was nowhere to hide, so it took hardly a split-second to confirm that whoever was in the vault had already left. That, and there was a trail of fallen white-washed bills that led out the hole into the alleyway. Chroma peeked out the hole to see the missing chunk of wall was firmly embedded into an unfortunate car. He didn't dwell on that particularly long before letting his eyes follow the paper trail to...
A van behind an upturned chunk of concrete that had been supernaturally ripped from the ground. As soon as he saw the van it began to peel out, but there was nothing Chroma could do about that. Not the van, at least. "There's a van leaving from the alley behind the bank," he spoke into his earpiece communicator. Scarlet would have to handle that one. However his work in the alley wasn't done. The van left hastily and with peculiar timing. Not to mention the strange wall made out of road that covered the van. Why would the van need cover? He held his hands to his sides, large blobs of blue paint forming in the air next to his palms. As soon as they reached the size of basketballs, which took no time at all, he tossed them one at a time towards the general direction of the upturned concrete. The blue paint splashed across the ground along both sides of it, coating a large part of the alleyway in a dark blue. One could look at the wet paint and guess that it felt wet, but if anyone were to touch it they would find it supernaturally slippery. Applying weight on it was a good way to take a fall. And surely if one fell in the midst of the paint they wouldn't be able to get up without some kind of assistance. What made it even worse was the fact that touching it would get some of the wet blue paint on whatever touched it. It'd spread the slippery effect if one were to get it on them.
But that wasn't enough. Chroma produced even more blue paint and began lobbing it haphazardly along the alleyway. In all of a few seconds he had managed to coat most of the area in blue. Only a few places such as underneath cars or behind the upturned concrete were left dry, places that Chroma didn't have a direct line-of-sight on. "Toss your weapons and... well put the road back down! If you resist I'm gonna have to come over there. And I'll bring an ass-kicking with me! Don't make me do this the hard way, otherwise I'll make modern art out of you!" It was his standard threat. Desist or get beaten. While another glob of blue paint was floating in the air next to his left hand he began to walk forward, the blue paint vanishing underneath his feet right as he was about to step on it. This left a trail of footprints as he slowly walked up the alley towards the suspicious roadblock. | Real name:
Alex Rowland
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Hero/Villian name:
Chroma
Affiliation:
Good, Ward
Biography:
A young American teenager born and raised in San Francisco. His father was an artist of varying fields and his mother was an impressionable accountant. Alex was raised in a very liberal household that valued his strengths and ignored his weaknesses, leading to an inflated ego from a young age. They were not a wealthy family, as the only source of income came from his mother's steady job. His father was doing something different every year. One year he is an actor, another he is a painter, but no matter what he's doing it doesn't make money. Alex initially resented that part about his father, but in time he would be indoctrinated by his charismatic old man. Art wasn't meant to make profit, it was meant to entertain. Art was a way of life, not a job.
Alex would receive both Trigger Events simultaneously when he was fifteen and attended his father's very first art show. A culmination of his old man's entire life's works put on display for the public to see. Only it was not well received. It would be an understatement to say the high-class establishment that funded and hosted his event were displeased with his paintings' "child-like" qualities. A crowd gathered to mock and harass the Rowland family. The humiliation didn't stop with the art show, as drunk patrons awaited the Rowland family as they left that night and assaulted them in the street. They would've only attacked Alex's father, but young Alex was quick to succumb to his rage and jumped in. This resulted in the beating of a lifetime, putting him in the hospital alongside his father.
He didn't realize his powers for almost a month after the event, when he was mostly healed from the fight and out of the hospital. An angry Alex was quick to abuse this, destroying the building that catered to the dramatic art show that stained his father's reputation and almost killed the two of them. This put him on the PRT's radar and they approached his family the next day. They were willing to overlook his crime in order to form him into a true hero that could wield his powers wisely and safely. Alex saw this as an opportunity to become famous like his father could not. He accepted the proposal without haste, though his father demanded he wouldn't be taken to the Los Angeles department out of prejudice. The PRT granted their wish and instead sent Alex all the way to Chicago, Illinois. He has since become a Ward for the PRT, donning the alias of Chroma for his superhero acts.
Personality:
Some may be believe Alex to be a genuine and upstanding citizen with impeccable morals and a capacity for empathy. They would be gravely mistaken. Alex Rowland isn't just sly and conniving but incredibly full of himself. An egomaniac that uses justice as a means to parade his greatness. Life is like one big show to him and he's none other than the leading role. He finds himself to be a gift from God and behaves in an accordingly eccentric and extravagant way that often brings up questions of his sexuality. Despite caring for himself above all else he does have some morals, finding it easy to injure but difficult to kill. One can also say that he has decent self-control, but only when he puts on his mask. His arrogance puts off many people, but somehow it is overlooked whenever he dons his superhero costume.
Residence:
PRT Building
Parental status:
Both are alive and well living in San Francisco, California.
Costume:
A white full-body suit with white boots and gloves alongside a black masquerade mask to cover a large part of Alex's face, all the while his hair is slicked back. The costume has no inherent protection value.
Power:
Chromatic Overload - Alex has the power to change the colors of everything around him in the world. Likewise he can "create" his own "colors" that appear to be floating blobs of paint that can have diverse effects when they come into contact with a target. He can then fling these masses of color at his opponents as a means of combat. RED would burn, BLUE would drench, YELLOW would electrify, etc. The effects cannot be interchanged between colors as they are unique to their individual coloring. While most of his powers revolve around "adding" color, Alex also has the ability to "subtract" color which will turn the affected object or person invisible. The effects of Chromatic Overload's color-changing aspect can be negated by Trump powers or by exiting Alex's range, but the color that is created can only be removed by Alex or Trump powers, making their effects possibly permanent.
Power range:
100m general range. Colors can only be created and manipulated less than 1m away from his hands, afterwards it is entirely based on momentum and can no longer be controlled, only erased. Thrown colors cannot exit the 100m range unless they land on something, at which point they can. Colors can be changed at the full 100m range, same with removing colors. Changed colors that go beyond the 100m range will naturally revert to their natural colors without any intervention. Any object that has had its colors removed will also return to normal once it passes the 100m range.
Power safeguards:
Alex has complete immunity to his own powers. He cannot change his own colors, he cannot apply colors to himself, and he cannot take colors away from himself. This only applies to his body directly, as he can still use Chromatic Overload on his clothes and equipment just fine.
PRT ranking:
Blaster: 6
Striker: 3
Changer: 5
Stranger: 3
Weapons:
Alex carries no weapons. |
49,229 | 1,329 | 22 | 2,253 | 659 | Bank's Alley
Blackout started fidgeting impatiently as he waited for the Wards to show up so he could begin the action. The bayonet danced between his fingers, while he hummed quietly because of the delay. He glanced up and studied Drho carefully, inspecting the boy's mask, and the ornate golden design that caught the eye. After a few seconds of pondering, and awkward staring, he decided he liked it. It was flashy, yet still reserved. It drew attention, but didn't keep it exactly. He was a cape, and the black imagery that made up his costume was the only edgy bit. He leaned forward a bit, and studied his other teammate, Serephina. She seemed pretty comfortable in the attire she was given, and as he glanced her over he noticed that she was pretty clean for a vagrant, though admittedly that didn't mean much. He could see her green eyes quite clearly, and he studied her brown hair before turning back to Drho. He had odd colored eyes, that seemed to be a mix of brown and red. Odd.
The sound of footsteps echoed from the bank vault, and Blackout saw the van book it. What he assumed to be a ward had walked out of the blasted bank vault, or that's what Blackout assumed. The Ward spoke into his earpiece, communicating to someone that a van was leaving. Blackout smiled, gripping his knife tighter, as he awaited the moment when the boy would try to chase the van. Then the world turned blue. Plaint splattered the alleyway around him, barely missing Blackout. Right next to the building was devoid of paint, but Blackout didn't bother to check if Serephina had avoided it. Unfortunately Blackout had only fought Chroma once before, so he had no idea what this color paint did, but he knew it would be best to avoid it.
Chroma gave a short monologue that amounted to a cease and desist. A smile graced Blackout's face as he realized the man didn't know what he was up against, and probably thought Drho was the only villain here. His paint wouldn't become a normal substance upon Blackout nullifying his power, but he would lose immunity to it, and be unable to create more. The best solution would be to tell Drho to attack him before slipping into a viable range to nullify his powers. Hand-to-hand combat was preferable for Blackout, as he didn't use his power for a crutch in the way other parahumans did. He worked on his body, though the simple act of having the power did give him a knack for judging distances. Regardless, Blackout could not communicate with his teammate without giving away their presence, so he had to think of a move and fast. Shooting him would be a start, and might confuse him a bit, but he had seen the Ward use grey paint to block bullets. Regardless, a shot to the stomach should knock the breath out of him. . . Assuming his power didn't completely break physics, but then again most powers did. In fact all did.
"Focus," Blackout thought, annoyed at himself for getting distracted. The knife returned to its holster, though he kept it unstrapped, and in one motion he drew his gun. He steadied himself internally, and took a step around the corner, leveling himself before putting the cross hairs of his nine millimeter on the Ward's stomach. "I fucked up," He thought as his foot slid forward and out from underneath him, making him fall. Hard. His gun went off, firing wide of its target as Blackout slammed into the ground. His helmet saved him from a concussion, though his gun slipped out of his hands. He had forgotten the paint, and it was very, very slippery. | Real name:
Vince Kiran
(He is publicly known to be a ward)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Though in clothed profile he may appear normal, below his collarbone are intricate black lines, almost like tattoos but with more depth. At his chest they make simple elegant curves, but turn into more primitive hard lines as they go over his arms and hands. They are warmer then his body temperature, and have small cracks within them. He is clearly Caucasian.
Hero/Villian name:
Scourge
Affiliation:
Ward member
Biography:
Vince had an average life for a child raised by parents who are in the top one percent, though his parents were strict. He had to focus on his studies almost exclusively, leading to a sort of scholarly isolation. It didn't jade Vince though, as it was the only life he knew, and he never noticed how other kids had parties in the afternoon while he instead had study sessions. Where other students would watch movies, he would instead read "Catcher in the Rye," and as such isolation became a fact of life. Even his parents ignored him, always expecting perfection, and though content to observe it in their son, not surprised.
All through elementary school, middle school, and currently most of high school he has had perfect grades. Never less then one hundred percent, and often more when possible. Brute force met all schoolwork head on, and Vince always won. Loneliness became so common that his parents finally started to worry when he was sixteen. They decided he needed to find something to strive for besides good grades, oblivious to the fact that it was their fault he had embraced such isolation. They payed the hefty fee required, and Vince got his powers artificially through Cauldron. He chose an unstable enough formula to be considered a case 53. At first the change was small enough to not matter, a small black indent on his chest, but as Vince used his power more, the indent became an intricate structure across his entire body.
At seventeen currently, Vince is a member of the Wards. He seems to be the odd one out though as he rarely signs up for extra patrols, and continues his scholarly pursuits. He is viewed as weird at school, and has expressed no interest, currently, in any gender, or material object besides grades. Currently he does, as his parent wished, strive for one thing: Justice. Despite the Powers being his parent's idea, they still view him as a monster currently, secretly resenting his less then pristine appearance.
Personality:
Vince is a very reserved individual, and his presence is easily forgotten in the midst of conversation. However he has no problem participating in dialogue, he doesn't go out of his way to contribute information. He is admittedly dull witted, and rarely makes jokes, or apprecietes them. He is a fan of one-liners though.
Residence:
Private residence in gated community.
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
Normally a grey hoodie, and sweats. When he is on a serious patrol he will take fireproof Tinker made gear.
Power:
Vince is a pyrokinetic, and is able to generate flames from his mouth, and from the black lines across his body. Unfortunately items touching him are not fire proof in the least. The hotter Vince gets, the more black lines spread across his body (They started forming from the chest.) He is only able to control fire within thirty meters of himself, and can only make the flame as hot as 180 Celsius, though he can generate this heat from seemingly nowhere. Vince also has a very deep understanding of how heat will spread throughout a 3D space (Given he has seen all parts to the space.) As such he can easily trap criminals without actually harming them. He can even suspend fire in mid air using his pyrokinesis. The hotter his external body temperature the more resilient he becomes. At his maximum heat he becomes completely bulletproof, though his eyesight does suffer, and his reaction time is dulled.
Power range:
Exponentially decreases in power strength at range.
Power safeguards:
Fireproof, and can survive longer without oxygen then most humans, also doesn't panic when he can't breathe.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 2
Blaster: 3
Striker: 6
Breaker: 6
Shaker: 6
Weapons:
None |
49,230 | 1,329 | 23 | 732 | 8,842 | Outside Okay Bank
Regus returned Blackout's stare with a sideways glance of his own, something about Blackout didn't seem quite... normal. Sure he was a villain, and technically Regus was a villain as well. But Blackout was obviously rather different from Regus, though it was hard to define why. Regus's thoughts were interupted by the sound of paint splattering and the entire area around his makeshift cover quickly turning blue, followed by Chroma ordering them to stand down. Regus had been considering what to do in response when Blackout suddenly stepped out from cover and fired: at the same time slipping on the blue paint and falling to the ground. Regus swiftly shifted his roadblock a few feet over to cover his downed ally. Then, he released the road and grabbed Blackout's hand, hauling the villain to his feet as best he could.
Obviously the blue paint must be pretty slick but it was still kinda sad to fall like that. "Maybe you should not step on the paint, savy?" Clearly it would be easier to wait for Chroma to approach so there was less paint between them so Regus planned on waiting until the ward was close enough to hit. If he was lucky the ward wouldn't realize that the upturned road could just as easily function as an oversized club as it could a wall. Of course if it was just Chroma this shouldn't be too difficult, but wards tended to move in groups. Regus checked around for other enemies and steadily spread control of his power through the surrounding area while he waited for his chance to whack the ward. | Real name:
Regus Exavius (Identity as villain, Unknown)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Typically wears dull gray or black clothes, comfortable sweatpants he can run in and basic sneakers. Also wears these under his costume.
Hero/Villian name:
Drho
Affiliation:
Evil
Biography:
Regus was born in Chicago, both his parents safe and sound. His mother was a smart women who wasn't keen on doing work. As a result she managed to latch onto a very wealthy business man who happened to be short on family. Regus was pampered to his heart's content in his childhood, just not by his parents. His father was always far too busy with, well business, and his mother was always out spending her husband's money on feeding her addictions and going to parties. Not that she told him, to his father's knowledge his mother was either caring for Regus or running errands. Not to say Regus wasn't happy, quite the opposite. Like his mother his free time was greatly enhanced by his father's money. The newest game system, nicest clothes, best food. You name it Regus had it. School was easy both ways for him, Regus's natural intelligence and influential father gave him good grades and better friends, both with little effort. Regus's life was a gilded road, perfect student, star of the swim team, likable. Life was good. Then it slowly became not.
Regus was pampered not stupid. He noticed that things stopped becoming quite so gilded. He didn't ride to school in a limo anymore. Christmas was no longer a showering of gifts, barely a light drizzle. Forced smiles and nervous glances the few times they had family dinners. When his parents thought he was asleep or didn't care there were furious shouting matches.They were in debt. Regus's grades began slipping as his classes got harder and his focus dropped. He'd seen enough TV to know what was going on. Divorce was all be inevitable. Or it would've been if his father hadn't died of a stroke. At least that's what the police concluded. Regus knew better of course. His mother knew people. All kinds of people. He'd seen her come home with the powder, at first he thought it was just another one of her drugs. Then he saw her slip it in the wine. Addicting his father too? It'd come together when his father convulsed, dying within minutes. Regus knew had happened. The mansion they lived in was sold off, everything in it. They rented a sleezy apartment and his mother continued her lifestyle, living off her husbands money, searching for someone else when she burnt through that.
She never got that far though. After she'd done an admirable job of burning through nearly all of her funds she'd gotten herself arrested. It was a life sentence for several compiled offences. Ranging from possession and intent to sell all the way to murder. Not his father's but for several others. Regus was surprised, he'd known his mother wasn't the best person and had killed his father, but he hadn't known she'd killed others. Not perhaps it shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. Regardless Regus was left in a lurch. He'd barely managed to graduate, didn't have any job skills, and was practically penniless. Regus ended up joining a gang, only half by choice. They'd been very insistent in recruiting him and leaving wasn't really an option for him. After going through his initiation he quickly found out you were either all in or all out. And once you were all in, you didn't get out. The crew had a couple of capes leading it. After several months of reluctantly committing crimes and doing as little as he could get away with.
Then one morning he woke up in a metal box. It barely fit him, his legs were curled up to his chest with hardly an inch of space to move in any given direction. Several hours of screaming until his voice grew hoarse bore no result. He clawed as best he could at the walls trapping him until his fingers bleed but it bore no result. Regus was in there for days. He never found out how long. Sometime in the haze of cramped limbs, gasping for air, and the headache ringing through his skull it got worse. A metal spike was driven through the metal box skewering his arm. And another one right next to it. Regus thought he couldn't scream anymore, he'd been wrong. When he woke up he found the metal box looked like it melted around him, in solidified lumps on the ground around him. The spike wasn't there anymore either. Regus shakily got to hands and knees, then looked around. There was a chair, with a half eaten sandwich on the ground to it. He was in some random alleyway. He crawled to the sandwich and devoured it. There was still a hole in his arm that had somehow managed to stop bleeding. Regus managed to get to his feet leaning against a wall for support. A wallet. There was a wallet on the chair. Regus snatched it and rifled through it, nearly a hundred bucks, enough to survive for a while. He managed to stagger his way into a cafe and get some more food, funny looks aside, it was Chicago, they'd seen worse.
He managed to find out that his gang had gotten taken down at one of the big meetings. The PRT had gone full force on them and no one had made it out. Still didn't explain what he'd been doing in a metal box with a hole through his arm. He used the reminder of the money on medical supplies as best he could to patch up his arm. Then he found out his power. He'd wearily leaned against a bench to rest, still drained from the experience and the bench bent beneath his weight like playdoh. Several experiments later he'd confirmed it. He had powers. Regus must've had a trigger event in that hellish box. Over the next few days Regus consumed his food supply and tested the extent of his powers. With no money, no one he knew, and nothing else to go on. Crime came naturally. When you could nearly literally walk through walls, stealing was easy. At first it was small things. Food, jewelry, but then he experimented more with power. Become used to it. He got easier and the prizes he took bigger and more valuable. Regus wasn't surviving anymore, he was living. Better off than any other seventeen year old he knew. Of course he didn't really know any so the point was moot.
Personality:
Regus is as you might expect, somewhat disillusioned with the world. People suck. However Regus isn't what he would call a bad person. He doesn't go out his way to make people's lives suck. His difficult life has given him an amazing amount of tenacity as well as a distrust of people. Regus is very confident in himself and his abilities but always tries to have a backup plan. Overall he gives off a lazy impression but this is more to deceive people than anything else.
A passing glance won't reveal his self-assurance in the way he carries himself, however when he is caped its quite clear. Still new to the villain business Regus is out for himself, not actively hurting anyone per say, just looking out for himself. Luckily he's managed to avoid any major confrontations with any capes or police force but he knows it won't last for long. He's prepared to do whatever it takes if that becomes the case. Though he hopes it won't come to that.
Residence:
Crummy Apartment
Parental status:
Father dead, Mother in jail.
Costume:
Long flowing black robes to conceal his identity and for use with his power. Also wears a demon face-mask
Power:
Regus can manipulate an object's density. The most frequent thing he does with this is makes things soft, like puddy, so he can push, squish, and reshape them. This allows him to go through conventional barriers with ease by softening them and tearing them apart. In addition he can use it to make things more stiff. For example he could make clothing have the rigidness of a brick, that is to say it doesn't move anymore it remains solid against any force that pushes against it.
This allows him to immobilize people rather easily by hardening their clothes. This effect wears off after around ten minutes or if Regus removes the effects. Regus can do something like puddy-ify a TV and squish into a ball then reform it, but he wouldn't be able to change the dimensions into say a bigger TV, or turn it into another piece of machinery, though this is more a lack of knowledge than ability. The same applies to other objects. Manton effect applies.
Power range:
1 meter around his body 2 meter through contact of modified objects. Constant throughout effected area.
Power safeguards:N/A
PRT ranking:
Changer: 8
Stranger: 2
Brute:6
Striker: 5
Weapons:
A bullwhip
Misc: |
49,231 | 1,329 | 24 | 97 | 637 | The Other Side of the Wall
"Really Blackout? The first move and you fuck things up? Have you even done this before?" Serephina whispered aggressively. With her invisibility activated, he wouldn't be able to see her and she was secretly hoping he would be confused. She always enjoyed making others question their environment. She knew he had done this before but he didn't seem like he had very much experience with. . . paint everywhere. With all the railroad tracks, swamps and fields full of rocks she had always had to trek through, she was confident she wouldn't slip. Or. . . So she hoped.
She wasn't really sure what to do here. These amateurs weren't giving her much to work with. She heard a voice say something like "they better surrender or he would make them into modern art" or something. Wow. that was the corniest line I've ever heard as a threat. Odette made a small squeaking noise from the inside of her backpack and Serephina hushed her with a gentle voice.
"Let me help you guys out here" she said with an exasperated huff. Peeking out from behind the wall, she could see the man threatening them covering himself in grey paint. This guy's a freak. she thought to herself, her eyes widening at the rather strange sight. Taking cover behind the wall again, she whispered again to Blackout, who was now steadily on his feet again, "He's heading this way in case you didn't notice! I would make sure your feet are steady Mr. Falls A Lot and DO SOMETHING!" | Real name:
Serephina Mayhem
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Tall, skinny but with proportionate curves. Has many small scars from self harm and freckles in all the usual places. Has dark brown hair, green eyes and fair colored skin. Very strong boned and has a lot of force behind her body weight.
Is it public knowledge that your character is a cape?:
No
Hero/Villain name:
To be decided
Affiliation:
Rouge
Biography:
When she was first born, her mother took care of her for a couple months but then abandoned her with her boyfriend’s brother’s family where she was severely abused for 2 and a half years. She has never met her real father and plans to look for him whenever she can get to a bigger city where someone can help her. Her first trigger event was one specific day when her antagonizers came down into the basement where she was being held and proceeded to beat her with what was called a “morning star” for more than 2 hours.
Serephina's trigger event happened after her attackers left the basement. When the lights were shut off, she noticed that she could see perfectly in the pitch blackness and hear what her attackers were talking about upstairs no matter how far away from her they were. It didn't matter because they were all in the same house. Her being simply a year and a half old when it happened, she didn't know what she was capable of until she was taken into her grandparent's custody and accidentally stumbled on her super speed power when running away from a rattlesnake that was trying to strike her.
She discovered her hologram when she was a freshman in high school. Serephina had a bully that would corner her in the halls during passing period and try to harm her. One time, when she was being bullied, she closed her eyes and prepared to receive a punch in the stomach when she noticed that nothing had happened. She opened her eyes and there was what looked like a twin of herself holding the girl in a headlock. The hologram motioned for her to run and that's what she did. (It cannot speak.)
(Outside character knowledge:) I would also like to add some things about my hologram. it is my strongest power. When the hologram is protecting her, no one else but her, can see it. For instance, if someone tries to attack her and Serephina activates her hologram, it will simply look like the attack is hitting an unidentified force. It also has the ability to cover Serephina in a bubble like force field that blocks all sound frequencies from penetrating it. The hologram does not take damage. I want it to have one weakness but I have yet to decide what that is yet.
She was also never fed. After the horror was ended when her grandparents took her into their home, she from there on she had disassociation syndrome. This is a disease that affects your relationships with others. A person with this mental condition does not feel strong emotions towards very many people or things. When they get attached to someone however, they will never let go and will be very loyal. Everyone else however, they will be completely numb to and have no feelings of love or attachment. All through middle school and high school, she never fit in with anyone except a few of the social outcasts that made her feel like she could be herself. But when those friends moved away, she had nothing left in school so she dropped out her junior year.
Soon after dropping out, she left home. She packed her stuff in the middle of the night, left a note saying that she left and was never seen again by her grandparents. The police looked for for a year but then gave up when they found nothing. Her cat is the only thing she has that means the world to her and loves. She has trained her cat to follow her wherever she goes, come when she is called and obey certain commands.
Personality:
Quiet when you first meet her but if she lets you get close to her, she becomes more comfortable and outgoing with you. Very argumentative and questions everything everyone says. She does not take anyone's word for anything. Very helpful when she sees others struggling and she knows she can help but she will not befriend anyone she helps. Friends come to her. Not the other way around. Keeps to herself mostly of the time but is polite and mildly friendly if approached.
Residence:
Doesn't have a home. She makes camp wherever she finds a safe place to rest for the night. She would rather wander alone than be at her Grandparent’s house.
Parental status:
Orphan. Her mother is alive but she has nothing to do with her and she has never met her real dad.
Costume:
She wears thin sneakers most of the time as opposed to other kinds of shoes so she is not weighed down when she runs. When she knows she might have to climb something or trudge through something difficult, she switches over to a pair of hiking boots which she carries in her backpack. She wears a dark green hoodie zipped up and something similar to yoga pants. She has implanted another layer of cloth on top of the original to keep her warm in whatever cold weather she encounters.
Power:
As a result of her abuse as a child, her power revolves around protection and flight skills. If she is in a bad situation and wants to leave, she can become invisible for a short enough period of time for her to get herself a good distance away from the situation. The higher her sense of danger or adrenaline, the longer her invisibility can stay active. Anything she holds will also be invisible. She also has super speed and the ability to create a twin hologram to protect her when she cannot protect herself. Her speed is an 80% increase than her normal running speed. This hologram can pick things up and move them to places Serephina wants her to. It cannot however go through solid objects. Whatever the hologram sees, Serephina sees. She can control what the hologram does, or let it act on it’s own. It has a database of several offensive and defensive battle techniques and its only purpose is to keep Serephina alive. It cannot take damage except for it's one weakness (which someone will figure out eventually.) Lastly, she has heightened hearing and sight. Heightened sight meaning she can see in the dark and see farther away than most people can. Her hearing has a farther distance range and higher frequency range than most normal people.
Power range:
Her powers have no distance limit except her hologram. It will shut down if she is more than 150 feet away from it after it is created.
Power safeguards:
Her powers only activate when she is in danger, or when her adrenaline levels are very high.
PRT ranking:
Mover: 5
Thinker: 3
Master: 0
Stranger: 7
Weapons:
Small hunting knife
Misc:
She carries a backpack with her wherever she goes that contains things she has stolen and her changes of socks, shoes and other clothing items from her past home. Her cat also hides in this backpack when Serephina wants her to. |
49,232 | 1,329 | 25 | 2,749 | 2,491 | Gael, Verens Estrada
It appeared that getting a sense of abilities was not so difficult as he would have thought, namely as he could recognize at least two of the individuals present by appearance and reputation alone. He smirked as he noted that one of them was a ward known as Chroma, while the other he'd identified appeared to be Blackout. In short he was not terribly impressed with the villain. What an idiot, he thought to himself with a chuckle even as he felt the tiniest amount of pity enter his psyche.
So it appeared there was a nullifier, but he was not a problem. He knew Blackout's effective range and he knew he was outside of it. The others appeared to have much less straightforwards powers as one seemed to be invisible--his being able to locate her entirely based on how she moved through his psionic web not to mention the fragmented impression of her surroundings that he found at the surface of her thoughts. The other ward was still a mystery to him as was the individual who appeared to be somehow molding the asphalt. He wondered how that was being done. Nonetheless half of both parties were idenitified in terms of ability and that meant one thing.
He could move.
Well, not literally as he had decided to stay where he was, but that was hardly the point.
Letting his awareness shift, the psionic web he had cast began to focus around Chroma becoming thicker and more solid, in a fashion. It would not physically impede the ward, but that was not the idea. Casting out tendrils of his influence to Blackout and his two compatriots, Gael utilized his telepathy to communicate a very simple message. "On the count of three attack or run," he telepathed to them, making his voice sound not like his own, but instead like their thoughts, disguising it as something that belonged.
He then counted to three, building layer upon layer of piercing needles around Chroma's head even as he sapped energy from everyone in his surroundings. "One..." his smile grew," ...two..." he continued, channeling hostility and pain into the psychic needles, "...three."
He snapped his fingers and in that moment the needles would slam into Chroma's undefended mind. Pure malice, fear, and a splitting pain would bombard the cocky ward as Gael fed the energy he was gathering into the attack. He was glad that cities were so jam packed with people, it made sustained psychic attacks much easier when he could be constantly sapping upwards of 50 people at once. Perhaps it would be more fitting for him to be active during the day till he gathered enough energy. That way he'd never be at too much of a disadvantage, he thought.
All the while he altered the shape of the needles, allowing them grooves and giving them a spin so that they acted like drills, burrowing into the Ward's mind. A dark smile played across his face as he drank in the suffering of his victim. It was too bad that it wasn't yet wise for him to stick around and wait till the ward succumbed to him.
It would have been wonderful to have a new puppet, especially one with such a useful ability.
Oh well. | Gael, Verens Estrada
Theme
His real name is unknown to the public.
Gender:
Male.
Appearance:
Of relatively average build for a teenage boy of 19, Gael stands at 5'6 and weighs roughly 175 lbs. When not out in the guise of Scour, Gael wears blue contacts. His eyes, as such, tend to take on a purple coloration due to the light pink and purple blending with the contacts. He carries around sunglasses as well and never wears the shirt with the 'eye emblem' on it.
Cape Alias:
Nightfall.
This name is one he's given himself. However, should the PRT name him something else he is unlikely to correct them. After all, this name alludes to the true nature of his ability, which is something that most are unlikely to fully grasp.
Affiliation:
Villain/Criminal.
Biography:
Growing up in a broken family, Gael quickly came to know the manipulative and unhealthy side of humanity. Even as a young child he watched his mother and father fight and bicker, sometimes striking one another. At first it was frightening, but as time went on he grew used to their dispositions and learned to deal with them. While some children might cower or run, Gael learned to manipulate his parents to get what he wanted and as he grew older this began to extend to others around him. However while he could manipulate his peers and his parents, school authorities served to be...less accepting of his behavior and so, one day in highschool and at the age of 16 his parents, James and Sarah received a call from one of their son's teachers.
All was well when his parents came to school to pick the boy up and bring him home, but upon leaving the building and arriving back home the two practically went ballistic on Gael, with his mother screaming at him and his father eventually growing so angry with his lack of response, punching him hard enough to knock him off his feet.
So unaccustomed to people retaliating to him was Gael that he hit a low point. He felt tears run down his face as he glared back up at his father, his head still reeling. The man glowered right back at him and, gritting his teeth, kicked Gael in the stomach. By now his mother began yelling at James, calling the punishment overboard, but Gael had long become deaf to them. A feeling of weakness and inexplicable anger built up in him till it rose to a peak and then suddenly it was as if everything went cold.
As his parents argued, the adolescent rose to his feet behind them, his face bruised and stomach aching from his father's blows. However, a small grin was on his face as he stared at his parents argue and then outright begin striking one another. Noticing his son's grin, James ceased the struggle with his wife and approached his son yelling at him, “Do you think this is funny!? You could have been expelled. After all your mom and I do for you, you pull some shit like this and then have the gall to grin at me like that!” His father raised his fist when Gael did not respond, but never went through with the strike as before he could it would seem as if all the color in the man's face would drain away at which point he crumpled down to his knees.
Afraid, Gael's mother went to the man, pleading with him to explain what was wrong. All the while Gael smirked down at them smugly. He wasn't sure how he had done it, but he knew it was his fault that his father had lost all his will to fight just then. The same happened to his mother as she looked up at him, tears in her eyes. Immediately a look of terror entered her eyes as she saw the eerie glow of her son's eyes and the strange lines of light that had spread from them. She tried to push herself away from him, which incited a small chuckle from Gael before he raised his hand, knowing what to do by instinct alone, and immediately his mother collapsed, unconscious.
- - - - -
In the days following the event, Gael's parents wouldn't even look at him, but due to the influence of his ability, had no will to contact anyone for help. Using this to his advantage he continued to highschool eventually graduating only a year later as he excelled far beyond his peers.
Applying with scholarship and financial aid to a rather prestigious college in Chicago, Gael convinced his largely subservient parents to move, and so they did. This puts us in the present time where merely using his abilities on “mundanes,” has grown boring to him.
As such he's begun going on outings, mainly at night, to stir up trouble in hope of attracting local do-gooders so he can break them too. He's not sure where he's going, but if it's anything like the last year or so, then it can only be more fun and to Gael that's really all that matters. Even if his idea of fun is...skewed.
Personality:
In short Gael is a manipulative, egocentric personality with narcissistic tendencies and a relatively small capacity for empathy. He uses people to achieve his ends, he's two faced and he lies more easily than he tells the truth. One might call him a social chameleon and they'd be right in saying as such, because it is often that he either blends in or instead chooses to use his charisma to create his own clique. Still, Gael is not all bad, as few are, and is rather a damaged boy with a lot of very bad habits and a closed heart.
Rather than face his flaws and insecurities he has long since locked them away, instead retaliating with a cold anger when questioned or confronted about how he treats people. He is stubborn, indignant and, well, arrogant not to mention he has a superiority complex. Overall he's what most would consider a toxic personality and really, they're right. Nonetheless, if perhaps he got some help for his issues he could improve. Until then he's only going to get worse and his rapidly growing intellect is going to make his decline into the darker end of the moral spectrum hell for everyone around him.
Residence:
Gael lives in his parent's house in the suburbs of Chicago.
Parental status:
While his Mother and Father are both alive, they are essentially puppets to him, set on a sort of autopilot which allows them to appear fairly normal to others.
Costume:
He tends to wear a black hoodie with a matching T-shirt beneath. On the shirt is a stylistic drawing of an eye. He wears black jeans and no mask. Instead his hoodie or his ability often obscures his identity. Gael carries his cellphone, which he's had jury rigged and set up with 20 lock screens unless he turns that setting off. He wears a pair of gloves so his fingerprints are never left behind. Additionally he carries a bottle of pepper spray.
Power:
Gael's ability focuses around an invisible aura, which he can utilize to siphon psychic energy, mentally draining humans and weakening the powers of parahumans before affecting their mind as well. This energy, once obtained, is assimilated by Gael by way of a secondary nervous system which stores and allocates his additional mental capacity. Personality traits are retained within psychic energy causing Gael's mind to be more of a hivemind than a normal human one. Aside from this is Gael's capacity to harness psychic energy he has gathered and focus it to attack the minds of others, penetrating their thoughts and weakening them. Conversely he might bolster or enhance communication with teammates should he use his power more constructively. Nonetheless, perhaps the most dangerous aspect of his ability is the result of prolonged exposure as over time one's suggestibility to Gael is increased while the capacity for conscious thought and decision making is decreased. While indeed a frightening prospect, this is something that would take days, weeks, or even months to achieve at best with the longest being years.
While the above details the majority of his ability's manifestation, Gael's perception was also effected by his trigger event, from that day on allowing him to see both his own aura and those of others. He can do this either with his eyes or by making contact with his aura. However doing so with just his aura will only notify him of an individual's mental state, whereas his eyes will tell him whether an individual is human or parahuman. A smoother aura is indicative of a more stable psyche whereas a rougher or scattered aura indicate an unstable or less stable one. Parahumans, in addition to possessing an aura texture also have colored auras while normal humans are perceived as gray scale. Brighter colors denote non-physical abilities, the brighter the color the more potent the ability while darker colors indicate more physical abilities. Neutral colors are somewhere in between the two or are abilities that cannot be clearly defined by either category. The color, aside from its brightness, seems to indicate the nature of the person more than it does the nature of their ability.
Notes: Gael's abilities can be subverted by the occasional Stranger-type ability. Being aware of his ability, its effect on you, or being averse to him in general makes you more resistant to his influence. Individuals with Thinker or Trump abilities are most resistant to him, with some Thinkers perhaps being entirely immune. However, power nullification does not work on him once you enter his field of influence—though it does make one more resistant to him. Gael is capable of siphoning psychic energy via direct physical contact, this method is the most efficient and as such drains people faster.
Power range:
Gael's ability, while possessing a relatively large area of effect, does not have a conventional range. Instead his area of influence, when unaltered, is a sphere with a 10 meter radius. Gael can redistribute the volume of these sphere thus altering its shape and allowing him to extend his range up to roughly 2.6 miles if he were to condense it into a single hyper-thin string.
Power safeguards:
While Gael's ability does not guard him against much it does make him largely immune to abilities that would seek to influence the mind. Additionally it gives him some measure of resistance to Trump abilities. Beyond this Gael's ability only makes him truly immune to two things, these being sensory overload and psychological breakdowns. This is largely due to the nature of his trigger event.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 7.
Master: 5.
Shaker: 4.
Striker: 4.
Trump: 3.
Weapons:
Gael carries a light, but durable baton that can extend and retract. Its minimum size is roughly 1.5 feet, while its max length when extended is 6 feet. The end of the baton has a sharp point and the baton will lock in place when opened unless pressure is applied on the handle. |
49,233 | 1,329 | 26 | 2,253 | 659 | A Café, then Later a Bank
A piano was slowly playing from hidden speakers around the café. The symphony started playing as well, bringing it from piano to fortissimo while Vince sat at the table, studying the people across from him. Vince was wearing a white T-shirt, and blue jeans, nice casual attire to go with the glasses he had on. They had a small HUD displayed on them. It told him the time, weather, and had some reminders that he would find useful later. As his parent's profession afforded them a lot of money he had the latest Tinkerfab. The girl next to him was a petite redhead, who was admittedly a bit busty, and a bit older then Vince. He had already forgotten his date's name. A 'friend' from school was across the table with a blonde girl as his partner.
The café itself was bustling with waiters and waitresses entering and leaving small doors at the back that led to the kitchen. A tea was placed in front of Vince, and though he just ignored it, he thanked the waitress. He didn't enjoy the atmosphere as much as most people might. It had almost a snobby air to it, as if hinting that all the occupants should be honored to even be allowed to occupy the spaces they did.
The date wasn't his idea, and his date wasn't his idea of cute. He sighed as he stared out the window, his table mate's idle chatter being drowned out by his own thoughts. I have thirty-five minutes to walk home, leaving ten minutes to study for my Calculus exam. After that I will have to do my homework, and complete it within an hour, otherwise I'll be unable to sleep for ten-
"Vince! Are you ignoring Samantha? She tried to ask you a question," The girl across the table asked him, the other half of the double date he was 'engaged' in. The remark took a few seconds to process, and he shook his head dully.
"No, no, sorry. I was thinking about something else, and just. . . Sorry. What did you want to know Samantha?" Vince asked, clearly interested again. Maybe she had said something intriguing, instead of what seemed to be her favorite hobby; Twirling her hair around her finger, and spouting vapid nonsense.
You do work in the ghettos a lot, don't you? Like. . . Community service?" Samantha asked, her hair still wrapped around her finger.
"Yeah, I-"
"Damn right he does! I saw Vince in the south side of town the other day." The girl started snickering, and whispered to the table, "He has plenty of projects in the projects," The table burst out in laughter, excluding Vince of course. His date slowly recovered and turned to Vince, flushed from laughing.
"I was also wondering how you got that black line on your arm-"
"Long story. Look I got to go," He suddenly stood up, looking annoyed. She swung and she missed. Vince walked out of the café, rubbing his temples with the sort of look that told people not to get to close. He looked off into the sky, getting caught up in his thoughts again before his phone rang. Vince pulled the phone slowly out of his pocket, looking at the caller ID before answering. PRT was displayed on the clear piece of glass that made up his smartphone, and Vince had to catch himself before he sighed at the nuisance.
He put the phone to his ear, and the call automatically answered, the sound switching to his earpiece. An automated message alerted him to the bank robbery in progress, and announced that there was currently one identified threat. Vince scrolled through his phone, before putting on some relaxing music. He chose Beethoven's 3rd symphony in E flat major.
With a bit of hesitation Vince started jogging towards the bank in question, ignoring the automated message alerting him he could get a ride if he needed transportation to the scene. He wasn't fit like some of his colleagues, but he had been working on that. Squeezing running sessions into his schedule, and this allowed him to jog all the way to the bank in five minutes. He was just out of breath and he took a moment to regain it.
After a minute Vince approached the scene, scanning the front of the bank for any suspicious faces, but instead he saw only fear and confusion. He glanced over the bank, noting that it was devoid of color. Chroma had arrived already it seemed. He sighed and walked to the front of the bank, entering quietly. Vince's eyes appraised the crowd methodically, looking for anyone who didn't look like they belonged. He did see a young woman who looked particularly focused, and generally confident. That was unusual. . . Vince approached the woman, pausing his music as he did. He put his hand on her shoulder, and once she turned around, studied her for a second.
"Excuse me, but you do realize a bank robbery is going on? Shouldn't you be evacuating, or ya know. . . Be scared?" Vince said slowly, as if pondering the effect every word would have on her. His emotions were lacking in truth, and she would surely see that. He didn't feel anything particularly strongly, and what he did feel was a mix of apathy, and careful concern. | Real name:
Vince Kiran
(He is publicly known to be a ward)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Though in clothed profile he may appear normal, below his collarbone are intricate black lines, almost like tattoos but with more depth. At his chest they make simple elegant curves, but turn into more primitive hard lines as they go over his arms and hands. They are warmer then his body temperature, and have small cracks within them. He is clearly Caucasian.
Hero/Villian name:
Scourge
Affiliation:
Ward member
Biography:
Vince had an average life for a child raised by parents who are in the top one percent, though his parents were strict. He had to focus on his studies almost exclusively, leading to a sort of scholarly isolation. It didn't jade Vince though, as it was the only life he knew, and he never noticed how other kids had parties in the afternoon while he instead had study sessions. Where other students would watch movies, he would instead read "Catcher in the Rye," and as such isolation became a fact of life. Even his parents ignored him, always expecting perfection, and though content to observe it in their son, not surprised.
All through elementary school, middle school, and currently most of high school he has had perfect grades. Never less then one hundred percent, and often more when possible. Brute force met all schoolwork head on, and Vince always won. Loneliness became so common that his parents finally started to worry when he was sixteen. They decided he needed to find something to strive for besides good grades, oblivious to the fact that it was their fault he had embraced such isolation. They payed the hefty fee required, and Vince got his powers artificially through Cauldron. He chose an unstable enough formula to be considered a case 53. At first the change was small enough to not matter, a small black indent on his chest, but as Vince used his power more, the indent became an intricate structure across his entire body.
At seventeen currently, Vince is a member of the Wards. He seems to be the odd one out though as he rarely signs up for extra patrols, and continues his scholarly pursuits. He is viewed as weird at school, and has expressed no interest, currently, in any gender, or material object besides grades. Currently he does, as his parent wished, strive for one thing: Justice. Despite the Powers being his parent's idea, they still view him as a monster currently, secretly resenting his less then pristine appearance.
Personality:
Vince is a very reserved individual, and his presence is easily forgotten in the midst of conversation. However he has no problem participating in dialogue, he doesn't go out of his way to contribute information. He is admittedly dull witted, and rarely makes jokes, or apprecietes them. He is a fan of one-liners though.
Residence:
Private residence in gated community.
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
Normally a grey hoodie, and sweats. When he is on a serious patrol he will take fireproof Tinker made gear.
Power:
Vince is a pyrokinetic, and is able to generate flames from his mouth, and from the black lines across his body. Unfortunately items touching him are not fire proof in the least. The hotter Vince gets, the more black lines spread across his body (They started forming from the chest.) He is only able to control fire within thirty meters of himself, and can only make the flame as hot as 180 Celsius, though he can generate this heat from seemingly nowhere. Vince also has a very deep understanding of how heat will spread throughout a 3D space (Given he has seen all parts to the space.) As such he can easily trap criminals without actually harming them. He can even suspend fire in mid air using his pyrokinesis. The hotter his external body temperature the more resilient he becomes. At his maximum heat he becomes completely bulletproof, though his eyesight does suffer, and his reaction time is dulled.
Power range:
Exponentially decreases in power strength at range.
Power safeguards:
Fireproof, and can survive longer without oxygen then most humans, also doesn't panic when he can't breathe.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 2
Blaster: 3
Striker: 6
Breaker: 6
Shaker: 6
Weapons:
None |
49,234 | 1,329 | 27 | 2,223 | 11 | Spencer took in the aura of the cape, silver strings surrounding him and herself, surprised to see how blank it was. Light dull colors of black, grey, and nothingness. Not to mention she was surprised anyone had even approached her. No one ever did that. She never stood out to the others around her. Why would she stand out to this man?
She processed his question a moment before giving her answer.
"This is nothing new to me", she shrugged his hand off, not at all used to the touch of others.
"Worst things have happened in my past than this petty bank robbery"
Spencer smiled though, unable to contain the strange happiness bubbling inside her.
Spencer made sure to keep the guilt flowing to the other cape across the bank making sure the emotion never faltered as she continued to hold her attention on the man I front of her.
She drew her eyes down the man's body taking note of the tattoo like crevices in his arms. "Interesting. Wonder what that's from?"
Her eyes lingered on the mark a moment before looking back up to the guys face. | Real name:
Spencer
(Not public knowledge Spencer is a cape)
Gender:
N/A
Appearance is sociably acceptable as female.
Appearance:
Dark waist length hair, bangs are chin length and lavender as are the end of their hair, green/emerald eyes, 6'1, left arm has a sleeve of tribal/vine/flower tattoos
Hero/Villian name:
Undecided
Affiliation:
Evil Rogue
Biography:
Spencer was born to an English/German mother and Arabic father, hence her tan skin and dark hair, in New York. Born an only child, the first few years were simple and sweet. Until, at age 6, her parents tried to have another child. Her mother carried her unborn sibling for 5 months before sadly the child didn't make it.
Her mother and father were wrecked afterwards and took out their misfortune on their first and only child. That's why her mental state went to shit. Now she suffers with a manic bipolar disorder and mild depression. Including the beatings she was not feed regularly so she had to go to stealing and as time went by she got good at it.
Age 10 to 14 they were bullied for her/their ripped dark cloths and low class. During those times she would try to stay in the background and hide. But she was always kind to those around her. Home for her was still rough and hiding the bruises and cuts became more difficult. She didn't think it could get worse. It did.
The Leviathan attack on New York killed both her parents as she looked on from inside an Endbringer vault. Ironically enough, despite the abuse, this triggered Spencer. Though she didn't display her power, she did start testing it. Her tests soon made her realize she could manipulate people's emotions.
As a refugee she was sent to Chicago to live in an orphanage while attending one of the worse off schools. Fortunately it was still better then the ghettos she lived in in New York.
As more time went on she realized she could give off bits and pieces of her emotions to those around as well as see the aura of their personality around them. The more she used her power in the person the easier it was.
After a long time of being frustrated with the normal necessities of life that she couldn't get at the orphanage she began plundering again. Money, clothes, drugs, you name it. She often uses her power to help avoid being caught.
Personality:
Spencer is always happy to hers and those around hers knowledge, though she is fairly short tempered because of her bipolar disorder. She is also very strange and not regular "there". She has fun manipulating people she has no liking for.
Residence:
Nomad. They move around.
Parental status:
Both deceased: Died in leviathan attack.
Costume:
Undecided by Spencer.
Power:
Can make people she knows the location of feel emotions. The better she's knows the person the easier the target. When transferring the emotion, depending on the level she gives, the same level of emotion she will lack (Example: she's depressed and transfers someone near her to be sad her depression will falter). She can see emotions in the form of hazy colors around others like an aura. Depending on the emotion the color changes.
Power range:
As far as needed, with the maximum distance being a mile. The more she know the person the easier the power is to use on them.
Power safeguards:
N/A
PRT ranking:
Stranger 3
shaker: 1
Thinker: 1
Master: 4
Weapons:
A knife. Always a knife. An Arabian styled dagger, the last thing she has from her father. |
49,235 | 1,329 | 28 | 1,105 | 2,351 | Alley Behind the Bank
Chroma stopped moving forward when one of the mystery villains finally peeked around the road cover, aiming a gun at Chroma. The Ward didn't have the reaction speed to avoid a bullet but he didn't need to as Blackout slipped on the blue paint in the process of leaning out for a shot. He fired his gun when he hit the ground but the bullet hit the wall to Chroma's left, missing completely, before the gun bounced out of Blackout's hand and slid across the paint where it clattered to a stop against a car tire. Chroma was briefly ruffled but was quick to realize his safety wasn't compromised in the slightest. In fact he even recognized the person who tried to shoot him. As the upturned asphalt shifted to cover the recently fallen Blackout, who now had blue paint clinging to his lower right leg and his back, Chroma began laughing aloud. Almost maniacally, in fact, despite him actually being the hero in this situation.
"Was that you, Blackout? Infamous parahuman criminal, busted robbing a bank with a new parahuman buddy? And I thought I was going to be bored today!" he called out to the crew huddled behind the curled road. The blue paint that was floating above his hands shrunk infinitely until it vanished completely. "I don't know who else you've got covering your ass over there, but the two of you are about to spend a long time considering your life choices..." This time he began forming red paint in his hands. It took only a second or so to get to the size of basketballs again, prompting him to launch both blobs directly at their cover. It splattered across the majority of the surface sloppily, some even splashing past it. Everywhere the red paint landed immediately began sizzling, the paint slowly eroding through whatever was in contact with it. It was fairly slow; Chroma expected it would take ten to twenty seconds to corrode through their cover and leave Blackout and whoever else was with him exposed and completely vulnerable. While the red paint began burning away at the road, Chroma began forming one single, beach ball sized blob of green paint in the air next to him. "Your show is coming to an end!"
But Chroma didn't get to wait for their cover to be destroyed. Suddenly a sharp, incredible pain took hold of his head. So significant and unusual that Chroma completely dropped the blob of green paint, letting it splatter against the ground in front of his feet. After a brief wobble he regained his balance, but he brought a hand up to his head as he began to look around. Someone is attacking my mind, he realized, trying to scout around quickly to see where they could be. Clearly it was more than just two enemies here. The pain wasn't overly severe, but it was enough to make it difficult to focus. His gaze continued darting around the alley in all directions but he just couldn't find the source of his pain. While he kept his left hand against his head in a futile attempt to relieve some of the pain, his right hand was held to his side as a new blob of green paint began to form. He wasn't focused on Blackout's Crew at the moment but he certainly didn't forget about them. He continued scanning around for his attacker while he waited for the road to burn away and reveal the villains behind it, but he only glanced in that direction every few seconds rather than paid attention to what Blackout might be up to with his new friend(s). | Real name:
Alex Rowland
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Hero/Villian name:
Chroma
Affiliation:
Good, Ward
Biography:
A young American teenager born and raised in San Francisco. His father was an artist of varying fields and his mother was an impressionable accountant. Alex was raised in a very liberal household that valued his strengths and ignored his weaknesses, leading to an inflated ego from a young age. They were not a wealthy family, as the only source of income came from his mother's steady job. His father was doing something different every year. One year he is an actor, another he is a painter, but no matter what he's doing it doesn't make money. Alex initially resented that part about his father, but in time he would be indoctrinated by his charismatic old man. Art wasn't meant to make profit, it was meant to entertain. Art was a way of life, not a job.
Alex would receive both Trigger Events simultaneously when he was fifteen and attended his father's very first art show. A culmination of his old man's entire life's works put on display for the public to see. Only it was not well received. It would be an understatement to say the high-class establishment that funded and hosted his event were displeased with his paintings' "child-like" qualities. A crowd gathered to mock and harass the Rowland family. The humiliation didn't stop with the art show, as drunk patrons awaited the Rowland family as they left that night and assaulted them in the street. They would've only attacked Alex's father, but young Alex was quick to succumb to his rage and jumped in. This resulted in the beating of a lifetime, putting him in the hospital alongside his father.
He didn't realize his powers for almost a month after the event, when he was mostly healed from the fight and out of the hospital. An angry Alex was quick to abuse this, destroying the building that catered to the dramatic art show that stained his father's reputation and almost killed the two of them. This put him on the PRT's radar and they approached his family the next day. They were willing to overlook his crime in order to form him into a true hero that could wield his powers wisely and safely. Alex saw this as an opportunity to become famous like his father could not. He accepted the proposal without haste, though his father demanded he wouldn't be taken to the Los Angeles department out of prejudice. The PRT granted their wish and instead sent Alex all the way to Chicago, Illinois. He has since become a Ward for the PRT, donning the alias of Chroma for his superhero acts.
Personality:
Some may be believe Alex to be a genuine and upstanding citizen with impeccable morals and a capacity for empathy. They would be gravely mistaken. Alex Rowland isn't just sly and conniving but incredibly full of himself. An egomaniac that uses justice as a means to parade his greatness. Life is like one big show to him and he's none other than the leading role. He finds himself to be a gift from God and behaves in an accordingly eccentric and extravagant way that often brings up questions of his sexuality. Despite caring for himself above all else he does have some morals, finding it easy to injure but difficult to kill. One can also say that he has decent self-control, but only when he puts on his mask. His arrogance puts off many people, but somehow it is overlooked whenever he dons his superhero costume.
Residence:
PRT Building
Parental status:
Both are alive and well living in San Francisco, California.
Costume:
A white full-body suit with white boots and gloves alongside a black masquerade mask to cover a large part of Alex's face, all the while his hair is slicked back. The costume has no inherent protection value.
Power:
Chromatic Overload - Alex has the power to change the colors of everything around him in the world. Likewise he can "create" his own "colors" that appear to be floating blobs of paint that can have diverse effects when they come into contact with a target. He can then fling these masses of color at his opponents as a means of combat. RED would burn, BLUE would drench, YELLOW would electrify, etc. The effects cannot be interchanged between colors as they are unique to their individual coloring. While most of his powers revolve around "adding" color, Alex also has the ability to "subtract" color which will turn the affected object or person invisible. The effects of Chromatic Overload's color-changing aspect can be negated by Trump powers or by exiting Alex's range, but the color that is created can only be removed by Alex or Trump powers, making their effects possibly permanent.
Power range:
100m general range. Colors can only be created and manipulated less than 1m away from his hands, afterwards it is entirely based on momentum and can no longer be controlled, only erased. Thrown colors cannot exit the 100m range unless they land on something, at which point they can. Colors can be changed at the full 100m range, same with removing colors. Changed colors that go beyond the 100m range will naturally revert to their natural colors without any intervention. Any object that has had its colors removed will also return to normal once it passes the 100m range.
Power safeguards:
Alex has complete immunity to his own powers. He cannot change his own colors, he cannot apply colors to himself, and he cannot take colors away from himself. This only applies to his body directly, as he can still use Chromatic Overload on his clothes and equipment just fine.
PRT ranking:
Blaster: 6
Striker: 3
Changer: 5
Stranger: 3
Weapons:
Alex carries no weapons. |
49,236 | 1,329 | 29 | 2,253 | 659 | Vince
Bank Interior
The girl's gaze drifting over Vince's body didn't go unnoticed, but he ignored it. If he called everyone out who glanced at the 'tattoos' he wouldn't get anywhere in conversations. He looked visibly annoyed at her bubbly nature. He reached up and adjusted his glasses,subtly pressing a button to start a search on a database of known capes or general criminals. Meanwhile he used his sixth sense of sorts to examine the heat she was radiating. This small ability allowed him to cold read (no pun intended), and normally guess someone's mood. However doing so generally gave him quite vague results, though in this situation he knew she was happy. Her body temperature said so, and it seemed to be genuine. Though she could also fool that test with the right power; if she had one that is. Always better to be safe then sorry.
"Petty? How is the bank robbery petty?" Vince asked suddenly, realizing what she had said, "Also you do realize I am a Ward right? I expect the kind of honesty you would provide to a police officer" His voice carried authority, but wasn't demeaning. Vince again glanced over the bank, but made it clear he was still expecting an answer. The conversation wasn't over quite yet, but he had to make sure no threats were in the area, besides this strangely happy girl.
Vince's emotions were a bit stronger this time, but only slightly. It was a mix of confusion, paranoia, and a bit of excitement. He seemed a bit more lively, but he also was ready to finish the job ASAP. He had homework.
Blackout
Bank Alley
It hurt. Not Blackout's butt or head, but his pride. It was thoroughly bruised by the stunt that had just occurred. Before he could explain why he had fallen, thoughts seemed to invade his mind. He could tell they weren't his thoughts, because they were too clear. Too. . . Simple. Blackout never thought like that. Dwelling on the situation didn't seem like the right idea, but after this stunt, Blackout was thoroughly finished with fighting, and he quickly formulated a plan.
"Run," Blackout said, glancing back at his two compadres quickly, noticing that Serephina had thoroughly dissipated. Always creepy thing, that. Dealing with Strangers left an odd, unsettling sensation in the pit of his stomach.
After the third count, as the invading voice had suggested, he ran at a diagonal angle towards the end of the wall. Before he touched the paint he thrust his foot forward, planning to slide on his back into range of Chroma. From what he had gathered after slipping on the paint, he could most likely keep his momentum for long enough to get in range of Chroma before Chroma attacked him. As he slid he picked up his gun from off the paint, where it had fallen.
If he did slide within range without a counter offensive measure taking place, he would activate his power to disable Chroma's paint telekinesis. Afterwards he would say "Bye," to confuse Chroma. Chroma would be unable to understand the words, and then if he kept thinking about it he would start panicking.
If Blackout was instead struck by the green paint, the weight of it would send him sprawling away from Chroma, though because of the angle Blackout was sliding at, it was highly unlikely that enough of the paint would hit Blackout to completely stop him from escaping. Because of this, Blackout would flee directly after getting off the blue paint. | Real name:
Vince Kiran
(He is publicly known to be a ward)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Though in clothed profile he may appear normal, below his collarbone are intricate black lines, almost like tattoos but with more depth. At his chest they make simple elegant curves, but turn into more primitive hard lines as they go over his arms and hands. They are warmer then his body temperature, and have small cracks within them. He is clearly Caucasian.
Hero/Villian name:
Scourge
Affiliation:
Ward member
Biography:
Vince had an average life for a child raised by parents who are in the top one percent, though his parents were strict. He had to focus on his studies almost exclusively, leading to a sort of scholarly isolation. It didn't jade Vince though, as it was the only life he knew, and he never noticed how other kids had parties in the afternoon while he instead had study sessions. Where other students would watch movies, he would instead read "Catcher in the Rye," and as such isolation became a fact of life. Even his parents ignored him, always expecting perfection, and though content to observe it in their son, not surprised.
All through elementary school, middle school, and currently most of high school he has had perfect grades. Never less then one hundred percent, and often more when possible. Brute force met all schoolwork head on, and Vince always won. Loneliness became so common that his parents finally started to worry when he was sixteen. They decided he needed to find something to strive for besides good grades, oblivious to the fact that it was their fault he had embraced such isolation. They payed the hefty fee required, and Vince got his powers artificially through Cauldron. He chose an unstable enough formula to be considered a case 53. At first the change was small enough to not matter, a small black indent on his chest, but as Vince used his power more, the indent became an intricate structure across his entire body.
At seventeen currently, Vince is a member of the Wards. He seems to be the odd one out though as he rarely signs up for extra patrols, and continues his scholarly pursuits. He is viewed as weird at school, and has expressed no interest, currently, in any gender, or material object besides grades. Currently he does, as his parent wished, strive for one thing: Justice. Despite the Powers being his parent's idea, they still view him as a monster currently, secretly resenting his less then pristine appearance.
Personality:
Vince is a very reserved individual, and his presence is easily forgotten in the midst of conversation. However he has no problem participating in dialogue, he doesn't go out of his way to contribute information. He is admittedly dull witted, and rarely makes jokes, or apprecietes them. He is a fan of one-liners though.
Residence:
Private residence in gated community.
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
Normally a grey hoodie, and sweats. When he is on a serious patrol he will take fireproof Tinker made gear.
Power:
Vince is a pyrokinetic, and is able to generate flames from his mouth, and from the black lines across his body. Unfortunately items touching him are not fire proof in the least. The hotter Vince gets, the more black lines spread across his body (They started forming from the chest.) He is only able to control fire within thirty meters of himself, and can only make the flame as hot as 180 Celsius, though he can generate this heat from seemingly nowhere. Vince also has a very deep understanding of how heat will spread throughout a 3D space (Given he has seen all parts to the space.) As such he can easily trap criminals without actually harming them. He can even suspend fire in mid air using his pyrokinesis. The hotter his external body temperature the more resilient he becomes. At his maximum heat he becomes completely bulletproof, though his eyesight does suffer, and his reaction time is dulled.
Power range:
Exponentially decreases in power strength at range.
Power safeguards:
Fireproof, and can survive longer without oxygen then most humans, also doesn't panic when he can't breathe.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 2
Blaster: 3
Striker: 6
Breaker: 6
Shaker: 6
Weapons:
None |
49,237 | 1,329 | 30 | 732 | 8,842 | Regus
Okay Bank Alley
Several things happened all rather close together. His normal thoughts were interrupted by rather strict and short mental instructions, red paint splashed into the barricade, some of it even blasting over and melting the ground near him, Blackout hurtled himself along the slippery paint towards Chroma, who was now searching for some sort of new threat after reeling briefly. Well, as glad as Regus was that Blackout had decided they should bail, he couldn't very well leave Blackout on his own.
So he tore off a section of the road that was untouched by the dissolving red paint, about the size of a homebase plate, and hurled it at Chroma like some sort of oversized frisbee. It flew surpsingly well for a hunk of asphalt, though that would be in part due to its slighter lighter than normal state. Of course it would still be very painful if it collided with Chroma's stomach, as its current path would lead it to. Immediately afterwards Regus turned around and ran for all he was worth, practically melting through the wall behind him and running through the thankfully empty building.
After doing the same thing and leaving several more human shaped holes that looked like they were straight out of a cartoon, Regus emerged onto another street... And found the van from earlier waiting for him. At first he was very confused until he remembered that the Boss had said he had a precog in the letter. Freaky things precogs. Still it was his ride out of here so Regus hopped into the van and waited for whatever came next, keeping an eye out in case any more wards managed to find them | Real name:
Regus Exavius (Identity as villain, Unknown)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Typically wears dull gray or black clothes, comfortable sweatpants he can run in and basic sneakers. Also wears these under his costume.
Hero/Villian name:
Drho
Affiliation:
Evil
Biography:
Regus was born in Chicago, both his parents safe and sound. His mother was a smart women who wasn't keen on doing work. As a result she managed to latch onto a very wealthy business man who happened to be short on family. Regus was pampered to his heart's content in his childhood, just not by his parents. His father was always far too busy with, well business, and his mother was always out spending her husband's money on feeding her addictions and going to parties. Not that she told him, to his father's knowledge his mother was either caring for Regus or running errands. Not to say Regus wasn't happy, quite the opposite. Like his mother his free time was greatly enhanced by his father's money. The newest game system, nicest clothes, best food. You name it Regus had it. School was easy both ways for him, Regus's natural intelligence and influential father gave him good grades and better friends, both with little effort. Regus's life was a gilded road, perfect student, star of the swim team, likable. Life was good. Then it slowly became not.
Regus was pampered not stupid. He noticed that things stopped becoming quite so gilded. He didn't ride to school in a limo anymore. Christmas was no longer a showering of gifts, barely a light drizzle. Forced smiles and nervous glances the few times they had family dinners. When his parents thought he was asleep or didn't care there were furious shouting matches.They were in debt. Regus's grades began slipping as his classes got harder and his focus dropped. He'd seen enough TV to know what was going on. Divorce was all be inevitable. Or it would've been if his father hadn't died of a stroke. At least that's what the police concluded. Regus knew better of course. His mother knew people. All kinds of people. He'd seen her come home with the powder, at first he thought it was just another one of her drugs. Then he saw her slip it in the wine. Addicting his father too? It'd come together when his father convulsed, dying within minutes. Regus knew had happened. The mansion they lived in was sold off, everything in it. They rented a sleezy apartment and his mother continued her lifestyle, living off her husbands money, searching for someone else when she burnt through that.
She never got that far though. After she'd done an admirable job of burning through nearly all of her funds she'd gotten herself arrested. It was a life sentence for several compiled offences. Ranging from possession and intent to sell all the way to murder. Not his father's but for several others. Regus was surprised, he'd known his mother wasn't the best person and had killed his father, but he hadn't known she'd killed others. Not perhaps it shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. Regardless Regus was left in a lurch. He'd barely managed to graduate, didn't have any job skills, and was practically penniless. Regus ended up joining a gang, only half by choice. They'd been very insistent in recruiting him and leaving wasn't really an option for him. After going through his initiation he quickly found out you were either all in or all out. And once you were all in, you didn't get out. The crew had a couple of capes leading it. After several months of reluctantly committing crimes and doing as little as he could get away with.
Then one morning he woke up in a metal box. It barely fit him, his legs were curled up to his chest with hardly an inch of space to move in any given direction. Several hours of screaming until his voice grew hoarse bore no result. He clawed as best he could at the walls trapping him until his fingers bleed but it bore no result. Regus was in there for days. He never found out how long. Sometime in the haze of cramped limbs, gasping for air, and the headache ringing through his skull it got worse. A metal spike was driven through the metal box skewering his arm. And another one right next to it. Regus thought he couldn't scream anymore, he'd been wrong. When he woke up he found the metal box looked like it melted around him, in solidified lumps on the ground around him. The spike wasn't there anymore either. Regus shakily got to hands and knees, then looked around. There was a chair, with a half eaten sandwich on the ground to it. He was in some random alleyway. He crawled to the sandwich and devoured it. There was still a hole in his arm that had somehow managed to stop bleeding. Regus managed to get to his feet leaning against a wall for support. A wallet. There was a wallet on the chair. Regus snatched it and rifled through it, nearly a hundred bucks, enough to survive for a while. He managed to stagger his way into a cafe and get some more food, funny looks aside, it was Chicago, they'd seen worse.
He managed to find out that his gang had gotten taken down at one of the big meetings. The PRT had gone full force on them and no one had made it out. Still didn't explain what he'd been doing in a metal box with a hole through his arm. He used the reminder of the money on medical supplies as best he could to patch up his arm. Then he found out his power. He'd wearily leaned against a bench to rest, still drained from the experience and the bench bent beneath his weight like playdoh. Several experiments later he'd confirmed it. He had powers. Regus must've had a trigger event in that hellish box. Over the next few days Regus consumed his food supply and tested the extent of his powers. With no money, no one he knew, and nothing else to go on. Crime came naturally. When you could nearly literally walk through walls, stealing was easy. At first it was small things. Food, jewelry, but then he experimented more with power. Become used to it. He got easier and the prizes he took bigger and more valuable. Regus wasn't surviving anymore, he was living. Better off than any other seventeen year old he knew. Of course he didn't really know any so the point was moot.
Personality:
Regus is as you might expect, somewhat disillusioned with the world. People suck. However Regus isn't what he would call a bad person. He doesn't go out his way to make people's lives suck. His difficult life has given him an amazing amount of tenacity as well as a distrust of people. Regus is very confident in himself and his abilities but always tries to have a backup plan. Overall he gives off a lazy impression but this is more to deceive people than anything else.
A passing glance won't reveal his self-assurance in the way he carries himself, however when he is caped its quite clear. Still new to the villain business Regus is out for himself, not actively hurting anyone per say, just looking out for himself. Luckily he's managed to avoid any major confrontations with any capes or police force but he knows it won't last for long. He's prepared to do whatever it takes if that becomes the case. Though he hopes it won't come to that.
Residence:
Crummy Apartment
Parental status:
Father dead, Mother in jail.
Costume:
Long flowing black robes to conceal his identity and for use with his power. Also wears a demon face-mask
Power:
Regus can manipulate an object's density. The most frequent thing he does with this is makes things soft, like puddy, so he can push, squish, and reshape them. This allows him to go through conventional barriers with ease by softening them and tearing them apart. In addition he can use it to make things more stiff. For example he could make clothing have the rigidness of a brick, that is to say it doesn't move anymore it remains solid against any force that pushes against it.
This allows him to immobilize people rather easily by hardening their clothes. This effect wears off after around ten minutes or if Regus removes the effects. Regus can do something like puddy-ify a TV and squish into a ball then reform it, but he wouldn't be able to change the dimensions into say a bigger TV, or turn it into another piece of machinery, though this is more a lack of knowledge than ability. The same applies to other objects. Manton effect applies.
Power range:
1 meter around his body 2 meter through contact of modified objects. Constant throughout effected area.
Power safeguards:N/A
PRT ranking:
Changer: 8
Stranger: 2
Brute:6
Striker: 5
Weapons:
A bullwhip
Misc: |
49,238 | 1,329 | 31 | 97 | 637 | The Only One Left on the Other Side of the Wall
Serephina whipped her head around in confusion as she watched Blackout attempt some sort of Matrix escape method and Regus throw a piece of asphalt at Chroma and then proceed to run away in the direction of the van. Her invisibility activated, she realized that she could do anything she wanted right now. She hadn't done anything to help yet so maybe this was her chance.
Hurling herself over the wall, trying to be as quiet as possible, she hurled towards Chroma wielding her knife ready to land her knife squarely in his ribs. Internally she tried to decide if she wanted to stick around or not. She could just grab a bag of money and take off. . . or she could stay and help Blackout some more. He did look like he would need all the help he could get. He seemed to be very scatter brained and distracted most of the time. He had good ideas it was just that he had no conception of how to carry them out effectively.
Regus on the other hand, that guy needed nothing from no one ever. He knew what he was doing and knew exactly what he had to do to get what he wanted. She assumed he was only here because he knew he would get something out of it. He seemed like he had always been a loner and always would be one. Maybe she would pair up with him later on; he seemed like more her style and they might work well together.
Come on Serephina, make yourself useful. Then you can grab some money and take off. she thought to herself as she got within feet of Chroma. He would never knew what hit him. | Real name:
Serephina Mayhem
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Tall, skinny but with proportionate curves. Has many small scars from self harm and freckles in all the usual places. Has dark brown hair, green eyes and fair colored skin. Very strong boned and has a lot of force behind her body weight.
Is it public knowledge that your character is a cape?:
No
Hero/Villain name:
To be decided
Affiliation:
Rouge
Biography:
When she was first born, her mother took care of her for a couple months but then abandoned her with her boyfriend’s brother’s family where she was severely abused for 2 and a half years. She has never met her real father and plans to look for him whenever she can get to a bigger city where someone can help her. Her first trigger event was one specific day when her antagonizers came down into the basement where she was being held and proceeded to beat her with what was called a “morning star” for more than 2 hours.
Serephina's trigger event happened after her attackers left the basement. When the lights were shut off, she noticed that she could see perfectly in the pitch blackness and hear what her attackers were talking about upstairs no matter how far away from her they were. It didn't matter because they were all in the same house. Her being simply a year and a half old when it happened, she didn't know what she was capable of until she was taken into her grandparent's custody and accidentally stumbled on her super speed power when running away from a rattlesnake that was trying to strike her.
She discovered her hologram when she was a freshman in high school. Serephina had a bully that would corner her in the halls during passing period and try to harm her. One time, when she was being bullied, she closed her eyes and prepared to receive a punch in the stomach when she noticed that nothing had happened. She opened her eyes and there was what looked like a twin of herself holding the girl in a headlock. The hologram motioned for her to run and that's what she did. (It cannot speak.)
(Outside character knowledge:) I would also like to add some things about my hologram. it is my strongest power. When the hologram is protecting her, no one else but her, can see it. For instance, if someone tries to attack her and Serephina activates her hologram, it will simply look like the attack is hitting an unidentified force. It also has the ability to cover Serephina in a bubble like force field that blocks all sound frequencies from penetrating it. The hologram does not take damage. I want it to have one weakness but I have yet to decide what that is yet.
She was also never fed. After the horror was ended when her grandparents took her into their home, she from there on she had disassociation syndrome. This is a disease that affects your relationships with others. A person with this mental condition does not feel strong emotions towards very many people or things. When they get attached to someone however, they will never let go and will be very loyal. Everyone else however, they will be completely numb to and have no feelings of love or attachment. All through middle school and high school, she never fit in with anyone except a few of the social outcasts that made her feel like she could be herself. But when those friends moved away, she had nothing left in school so she dropped out her junior year.
Soon after dropping out, she left home. She packed her stuff in the middle of the night, left a note saying that she left and was never seen again by her grandparents. The police looked for for a year but then gave up when they found nothing. Her cat is the only thing she has that means the world to her and loves. She has trained her cat to follow her wherever she goes, come when she is called and obey certain commands.
Personality:
Quiet when you first meet her but if she lets you get close to her, she becomes more comfortable and outgoing with you. Very argumentative and questions everything everyone says. She does not take anyone's word for anything. Very helpful when she sees others struggling and she knows she can help but she will not befriend anyone she helps. Friends come to her. Not the other way around. Keeps to herself mostly of the time but is polite and mildly friendly if approached.
Residence:
Doesn't have a home. She makes camp wherever she finds a safe place to rest for the night. She would rather wander alone than be at her Grandparent’s house.
Parental status:
Orphan. Her mother is alive but she has nothing to do with her and she has never met her real dad.
Costume:
She wears thin sneakers most of the time as opposed to other kinds of shoes so she is not weighed down when she runs. When she knows she might have to climb something or trudge through something difficult, she switches over to a pair of hiking boots which she carries in her backpack. She wears a dark green hoodie zipped up and something similar to yoga pants. She has implanted another layer of cloth on top of the original to keep her warm in whatever cold weather she encounters.
Power:
As a result of her abuse as a child, her power revolves around protection and flight skills. If she is in a bad situation and wants to leave, she can become invisible for a short enough period of time for her to get herself a good distance away from the situation. The higher her sense of danger or adrenaline, the longer her invisibility can stay active. Anything she holds will also be invisible. She also has super speed and the ability to create a twin hologram to protect her when she cannot protect herself. Her speed is an 80% increase than her normal running speed. This hologram can pick things up and move them to places Serephina wants her to. It cannot however go through solid objects. Whatever the hologram sees, Serephina sees. She can control what the hologram does, or let it act on it’s own. It has a database of several offensive and defensive battle techniques and its only purpose is to keep Serephina alive. It cannot take damage except for it's one weakness (which someone will figure out eventually.) Lastly, she has heightened hearing and sight. Heightened sight meaning she can see in the dark and see farther away than most people can. Her hearing has a farther distance range and higher frequency range than most normal people.
Power range:
Her powers have no distance limit except her hologram. It will shut down if she is more than 150 feet away from it after it is created.
Power safeguards:
Her powers only activate when she is in danger, or when her adrenaline levels are very high.
PRT ranking:
Mover: 5
Thinker: 3
Master: 0
Stranger: 7
Weapons:
Small hunting knife
Misc:
She carries a backpack with her wherever she goes that contains things she has stolen and her changes of socks, shoes and other clothing items from her past home. Her cat also hides in this backpack when Serephina wants her to. |
49,239 | 1,329 | 32 | 2,223 | 11 | Still in the Damn Bank
A dark orange-ish red, brown, and pink burst through the man aura after his scanning of the area. That was the most color she'd seen from him since he spoke to her. Excited, confused, and paranoid. Interesting combo.
"A Ward hm?" She thought chuckling to herself. "He's too bland to have such an exciting job," She playfully pouted to herself, watching as he looked away from the dark lavender haired girl.
The bank was quiet but the muffled conversations and excitement outside still echoed in the place. Her happiness dulled as her head rang with an oncoming headache.
"If this guy's a problem..."
She wanted to mutter it out loud, but Spencer knew he still had half his attention on her. Plus, talking to herself in this situation wasn't exactly the best option, was it?
The tall girl scuffed her combat boots on the floor while adjusting her over sized grey sweater.
"Compare a bank robbery to murder, Hun." She finally said, hoping she grabbed his full attention again, the smile she once had, returning to her face. She curses herself for letting that pet name slide through her lips in the presence of a ward. Couldn't take it back now though.
"Even a bomb explosion. This is nothing. Were there any casualties, sure, this would blow up the radar, but it's just some capes stealing a few bills, so it's nothing." Spencer lifted her shoulders in a shrug to show how uninterested she was with all this racket.
The unusually happy girl was starting to get annoyed with the strange Ward's unhappy nature. Wasn't being a Ward exciting!? Also the fact she seemed to be a threat. Spencer knew she could be, IF you got on her bad side, but she didn't want none of that right now. All she really wanted was to know what's going on.
Secretly wanting a taste of the action.
"And you may be a ward but you didn't look like it when you first spoke to me so you shouldn't be so mean about it" she visibly pouted at him now, not caring at the childish way she was. It's a lot less threatening than she could be.
"What's going on here anyway?" She asked, curious for the intel. | Real name:
Spencer
(Not public knowledge Spencer is a cape)
Gender:
N/A
Appearance is sociably acceptable as female.
Appearance:
Dark waist length hair, bangs are chin length and lavender as are the end of their hair, green/emerald eyes, 6'1, left arm has a sleeve of tribal/vine/flower tattoos
Hero/Villian name:
Undecided
Affiliation:
Evil Rogue
Biography:
Spencer was born to an English/German mother and Arabic father, hence her tan skin and dark hair, in New York. Born an only child, the first few years were simple and sweet. Until, at age 6, her parents tried to have another child. Her mother carried her unborn sibling for 5 months before sadly the child didn't make it.
Her mother and father were wrecked afterwards and took out their misfortune on their first and only child. That's why her mental state went to shit. Now she suffers with a manic bipolar disorder and mild depression. Including the beatings she was not feed regularly so she had to go to stealing and as time went by she got good at it.
Age 10 to 14 they were bullied for her/their ripped dark cloths and low class. During those times she would try to stay in the background and hide. But she was always kind to those around her. Home for her was still rough and hiding the bruises and cuts became more difficult. She didn't think it could get worse. It did.
The Leviathan attack on New York killed both her parents as she looked on from inside an Endbringer vault. Ironically enough, despite the abuse, this triggered Spencer. Though she didn't display her power, she did start testing it. Her tests soon made her realize she could manipulate people's emotions.
As a refugee she was sent to Chicago to live in an orphanage while attending one of the worse off schools. Fortunately it was still better then the ghettos she lived in in New York.
As more time went on she realized she could give off bits and pieces of her emotions to those around as well as see the aura of their personality around them. The more she used her power in the person the easier it was.
After a long time of being frustrated with the normal necessities of life that she couldn't get at the orphanage she began plundering again. Money, clothes, drugs, you name it. She often uses her power to help avoid being caught.
Personality:
Spencer is always happy to hers and those around hers knowledge, though she is fairly short tempered because of her bipolar disorder. She is also very strange and not regular "there". She has fun manipulating people she has no liking for.
Residence:
Nomad. They move around.
Parental status:
Both deceased: Died in leviathan attack.
Costume:
Undecided by Spencer.
Power:
Can make people she knows the location of feel emotions. The better she's knows the person the easier the target. When transferring the emotion, depending on the level she gives, the same level of emotion she will lack (Example: she's depressed and transfers someone near her to be sad her depression will falter). She can see emotions in the form of hazy colors around others like an aura. Depending on the emotion the color changes.
Power range:
As far as needed, with the maximum distance being a mile. The more she know the person the easier the power is to use on them.
Power safeguards:
N/A
PRT ranking:
Stranger 3
shaker: 1
Thinker: 1
Master: 4
Weapons:
A knife. Always a knife. An Arabian styled dagger, the last thing she has from her father. |
49,240 | 1,329 | 33 | 2,749 | 2,491 | Gael, Verens Estrada
Senses alerting him of a new individual entering the vicinity, Gael's eyes glanced briefly at the bank before turning back to the alley near it. It appeared his attack was going quite well. In fact Chroma hadn't even managed to report to his superiors if his thoughts were anything to go by, not to mention what he could see of his actions. Smirk growing ever so slightly as he felt the ward struggle against his attack, trying to get a hold of himself, Gael hollowed out the drills and began pushing trace amounts of aggression, annoyance, worry, and even more confusion into the ward. Oddly there was some resistance, despite there being no evidence that the PRT had taken precautions in teaching field agents or wards techniques to fend off psychic assault. After all, telepathy was not a terribly common ability, though master class capes were. It seemed no one had even considered the possibility that someone like him existed.
It made him smile to know that the ward had no idea who his assailant was or where they were attacking from. It helped that the edge of pain from the ward's mind fed him. It was almost like a high really, he mused with a light chuckle. As he went about his musings he allow his drills to speed up their rotation and begin to "wobble," within the psychic inicisions they were making in Chroma's mind. It would certainly amp up the pain, making it feel as if red hot knives were stabbing through Chroma's eyes, temples, neck, and crown.
While he did this he fed off of the people in his surroundings, finding their minds far less resistant to him. Interesting, he thought as he began making correlations. When he fed suggestions into their mind he saw flickers of hesitation, but when he tried it on the capes...resistance and awareness. It appeared that his power was more effective against normal humans...or perhaps just useful in a different way.
He'd need to work on that.
Watching the scene unfold he noted Blackout's decision to rush Chroma while one of his fellow villains fled, the other approaching the young hero from behind. As Blackout moved Gael took in a deep breath and let his drills slow down and ease up. The pressure would reduce considerably for Chroma. If he let his guard down, Gael thought, then it would be all the easier to feed a sudden burst of disorientation into his mind at an opportune moment.
If Chroma let up his focus even slightly Gael would strike the moment that Blackout and his invisible compatriot got near, or the moment that Chroma attempted to throw his paint. If he did not let up then Gael would slam the drills back into place, along with several psychic constructs to batter the outer walls of the ward's mind. One was cripplingly painful, while the other would be particularly troublesome given the timing.
If his disorienting trick went through he would immediately follow up by resuming with his drills, the mind hammers attacking in unison. The act would likely increase the disorientation further, not to mention allow him to pierce deeper into the adolescent's consciousness. While he knew he'd not be able to break him faster than he could call for reinforcements, he knew that he could plant the seeds for later development.
Perhaps even plant a dangerous idea in the arrogant artist's fragile mind. The idea made his eyes glow fiercely with a sick sort of glee. He was going to enjoy terrorizing this city, but first he'd have to make sure he was safe from the clutches of authority.
This in mind, regardless of Chroma's reaction, Gael would procede to enter an alley entirely out of sight to the group, heading to another street. As he exited the alley no one even glanced his way, despite the eerie glow of his eyes. Granted, they all barely noticed him, if at all, as he made the most subtle of suggestions to ignore him. He did love how the PRT would have a hell of a time finding witnesses to his presence despite how many there really were.
None of them would remember him because to them he was just another person in the crowd. Another face in a sea of faces. It was a useful trick. He continued his path, now trailing the villain who had retreated, though not by the same path. He knew they were going to rendezvous somewhere and luckily one of them had led him right to the spot. People were so easy.
As he neared the location of the van, for he knew there was a van there, Gael considered what he'd do upon arriving. Should he join them? They clearly needed someone to lead them after all. Blackout, despite his troublesome power, was apparently worthlessly incompetent. It didn't surprise him really, many people were. He knew he could help them better coordinate jobs and they could give him reputation and safety in numbers. Plus...he could prioritize their minds over their powers and in doing so eventually gain himself a group of uniquely useful puppets.
In theory it would be easy, but in practice.... Well, things were never that simple. He'd had people catch on to him before. The question was, could he stop it from happening again and could he avoid Blackout's power stopping him.
The likely answer was yes. For now all he knew was that he needed a team and he needed resources.
It seemed that the team would have to come first. With this in mind he stopped at the edge of the alley where he knew the van was located. He didn't need to peer within to know that the cape he had trailed was there. Now all he'd need to do was wait and hope that Blackout wasn't so worthless as to get captured. If only temporarily, he would need the cape for the simple fact that he seemed the unifying figure of the group.
If Blackout was removed from the picture, they would disband. He needed to make them like him first. After that, well, maybe he could get rid of Blackout.
He put it on his itinerary for later. | Gael, Verens Estrada
Theme
His real name is unknown to the public.
Gender:
Male.
Appearance:
Of relatively average build for a teenage boy of 19, Gael stands at 5'6 and weighs roughly 175 lbs. When not out in the guise of Scour, Gael wears blue contacts. His eyes, as such, tend to take on a purple coloration due to the light pink and purple blending with the contacts. He carries around sunglasses as well and never wears the shirt with the 'eye emblem' on it.
Cape Alias:
Nightfall.
This name is one he's given himself. However, should the PRT name him something else he is unlikely to correct them. After all, this name alludes to the true nature of his ability, which is something that most are unlikely to fully grasp.
Affiliation:
Villain/Criminal.
Biography:
Growing up in a broken family, Gael quickly came to know the manipulative and unhealthy side of humanity. Even as a young child he watched his mother and father fight and bicker, sometimes striking one another. At first it was frightening, but as time went on he grew used to their dispositions and learned to deal with them. While some children might cower or run, Gael learned to manipulate his parents to get what he wanted and as he grew older this began to extend to others around him. However while he could manipulate his peers and his parents, school authorities served to be...less accepting of his behavior and so, one day in highschool and at the age of 16 his parents, James and Sarah received a call from one of their son's teachers.
All was well when his parents came to school to pick the boy up and bring him home, but upon leaving the building and arriving back home the two practically went ballistic on Gael, with his mother screaming at him and his father eventually growing so angry with his lack of response, punching him hard enough to knock him off his feet.
So unaccustomed to people retaliating to him was Gael that he hit a low point. He felt tears run down his face as he glared back up at his father, his head still reeling. The man glowered right back at him and, gritting his teeth, kicked Gael in the stomach. By now his mother began yelling at James, calling the punishment overboard, but Gael had long become deaf to them. A feeling of weakness and inexplicable anger built up in him till it rose to a peak and then suddenly it was as if everything went cold.
As his parents argued, the adolescent rose to his feet behind them, his face bruised and stomach aching from his father's blows. However, a small grin was on his face as he stared at his parents argue and then outright begin striking one another. Noticing his son's grin, James ceased the struggle with his wife and approached his son yelling at him, “Do you think this is funny!? You could have been expelled. After all your mom and I do for you, you pull some shit like this and then have the gall to grin at me like that!” His father raised his fist when Gael did not respond, but never went through with the strike as before he could it would seem as if all the color in the man's face would drain away at which point he crumpled down to his knees.
Afraid, Gael's mother went to the man, pleading with him to explain what was wrong. All the while Gael smirked down at them smugly. He wasn't sure how he had done it, but he knew it was his fault that his father had lost all his will to fight just then. The same happened to his mother as she looked up at him, tears in her eyes. Immediately a look of terror entered her eyes as she saw the eerie glow of her son's eyes and the strange lines of light that had spread from them. She tried to push herself away from him, which incited a small chuckle from Gael before he raised his hand, knowing what to do by instinct alone, and immediately his mother collapsed, unconscious.
- - - - -
In the days following the event, Gael's parents wouldn't even look at him, but due to the influence of his ability, had no will to contact anyone for help. Using this to his advantage he continued to highschool eventually graduating only a year later as he excelled far beyond his peers.
Applying with scholarship and financial aid to a rather prestigious college in Chicago, Gael convinced his largely subservient parents to move, and so they did. This puts us in the present time where merely using his abilities on “mundanes,” has grown boring to him.
As such he's begun going on outings, mainly at night, to stir up trouble in hope of attracting local do-gooders so he can break them too. He's not sure where he's going, but if it's anything like the last year or so, then it can only be more fun and to Gael that's really all that matters. Even if his idea of fun is...skewed.
Personality:
In short Gael is a manipulative, egocentric personality with narcissistic tendencies and a relatively small capacity for empathy. He uses people to achieve his ends, he's two faced and he lies more easily than he tells the truth. One might call him a social chameleon and they'd be right in saying as such, because it is often that he either blends in or instead chooses to use his charisma to create his own clique. Still, Gael is not all bad, as few are, and is rather a damaged boy with a lot of very bad habits and a closed heart.
Rather than face his flaws and insecurities he has long since locked them away, instead retaliating with a cold anger when questioned or confronted about how he treats people. He is stubborn, indignant and, well, arrogant not to mention he has a superiority complex. Overall he's what most would consider a toxic personality and really, they're right. Nonetheless, if perhaps he got some help for his issues he could improve. Until then he's only going to get worse and his rapidly growing intellect is going to make his decline into the darker end of the moral spectrum hell for everyone around him.
Residence:
Gael lives in his parent's house in the suburbs of Chicago.
Parental status:
While his Mother and Father are both alive, they are essentially puppets to him, set on a sort of autopilot which allows them to appear fairly normal to others.
Costume:
He tends to wear a black hoodie with a matching T-shirt beneath. On the shirt is a stylistic drawing of an eye. He wears black jeans and no mask. Instead his hoodie or his ability often obscures his identity. Gael carries his cellphone, which he's had jury rigged and set up with 20 lock screens unless he turns that setting off. He wears a pair of gloves so his fingerprints are never left behind. Additionally he carries a bottle of pepper spray.
Power:
Gael's ability focuses around an invisible aura, which he can utilize to siphon psychic energy, mentally draining humans and weakening the powers of parahumans before affecting their mind as well. This energy, once obtained, is assimilated by Gael by way of a secondary nervous system which stores and allocates his additional mental capacity. Personality traits are retained within psychic energy causing Gael's mind to be more of a hivemind than a normal human one. Aside from this is Gael's capacity to harness psychic energy he has gathered and focus it to attack the minds of others, penetrating their thoughts and weakening them. Conversely he might bolster or enhance communication with teammates should he use his power more constructively. Nonetheless, perhaps the most dangerous aspect of his ability is the result of prolonged exposure as over time one's suggestibility to Gael is increased while the capacity for conscious thought and decision making is decreased. While indeed a frightening prospect, this is something that would take days, weeks, or even months to achieve at best with the longest being years.
While the above details the majority of his ability's manifestation, Gael's perception was also effected by his trigger event, from that day on allowing him to see both his own aura and those of others. He can do this either with his eyes or by making contact with his aura. However doing so with just his aura will only notify him of an individual's mental state, whereas his eyes will tell him whether an individual is human or parahuman. A smoother aura is indicative of a more stable psyche whereas a rougher or scattered aura indicate an unstable or less stable one. Parahumans, in addition to possessing an aura texture also have colored auras while normal humans are perceived as gray scale. Brighter colors denote non-physical abilities, the brighter the color the more potent the ability while darker colors indicate more physical abilities. Neutral colors are somewhere in between the two or are abilities that cannot be clearly defined by either category. The color, aside from its brightness, seems to indicate the nature of the person more than it does the nature of their ability.
Notes: Gael's abilities can be subverted by the occasional Stranger-type ability. Being aware of his ability, its effect on you, or being averse to him in general makes you more resistant to his influence. Individuals with Thinker or Trump abilities are most resistant to him, with some Thinkers perhaps being entirely immune. However, power nullification does not work on him once you enter his field of influence—though it does make one more resistant to him. Gael is capable of siphoning psychic energy via direct physical contact, this method is the most efficient and as such drains people faster.
Power range:
Gael's ability, while possessing a relatively large area of effect, does not have a conventional range. Instead his area of influence, when unaltered, is a sphere with a 10 meter radius. Gael can redistribute the volume of these sphere thus altering its shape and allowing him to extend his range up to roughly 2.6 miles if he were to condense it into a single hyper-thin string.
Power safeguards:
While Gael's ability does not guard him against much it does make him largely immune to abilities that would seek to influence the mind. Additionally it gives him some measure of resistance to Trump abilities. Beyond this Gael's ability only makes him truly immune to two things, these being sensory overload and psychological breakdowns. This is largely due to the nature of his trigger event.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 7.
Master: 5.
Shaker: 4.
Striker: 4.
Trump: 3.
Weapons:
Gael carries a light, but durable baton that can extend and retract. Its minimum size is roughly 1.5 feet, while its max length when extended is 6 feet. The end of the baton has a sharp point and the baton will lock in place when opened unless pressure is applied on the handle. |
49,241 | 1,329 | 34 | 2,253 | 659 | Vince
Bank Interior
Murder? Vince was caught off guard by the comparison between a bank robbery and murder. Her logic was flawed there though. She didn't know if anyone had died or not. . . Or did she? She had Vince's attention for sure now, and he showed this by turning to completely face her. He ran through what she had said to him, and it came to Vince's attention she had called him hun. . . That's odd.
The glasses came up with nothing as far as a criminal record, so he could relax knowing she wasn't a known criminal. On second thought that made him tense up instead, as that could mean he was dealing with an entirely new threat.
The strange girl started talking about how there were probably casualties, but it was still only capes stealing money. That was mysterious too, she was claiming there were capes, but to his knowledge there was only one cape in the area. Were these coincidences? Or was she not letting on how much she knew? This wasn't sitting right with Vince. Not at all.
After she pointed out he didn't look like a Ward, Vince paused before nodding in confirmation. He glanced down at his dress shirt and slacks and he had to agree. A Ward he did not seem to be. Her pouting was a bit exaggerated, but it definitely made him more curious about her, in a 'what the hell is wrong with this girl' kind of way.
To offset her previous knowledgeable statements, she asked if he knew what was going on. Vince shrugged, before realizing he should probably ask Chroma for an update. He raised his finger to his ear and pressed a key on his earpiece. "Chroma, have you found anything yet?" He said carefully, before turning back to the girl. "I have no idea. My. . . Fellow Ward is a bit of a one-man show," Vince explained. "By the way, can I get your name?"
"I'd also like to know why you think there's multiple capes on scene. Our current shared intel suggests only one cape. You also seem to think no one has died, which makes you appear a bit too informed." | Real name:
Vince Kiran
(He is publicly known to be a ward)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Though in clothed profile he may appear normal, below his collarbone are intricate black lines, almost like tattoos but with more depth. At his chest they make simple elegant curves, but turn into more primitive hard lines as they go over his arms and hands. They are warmer then his body temperature, and have small cracks within them. He is clearly Caucasian.
Hero/Villian name:
Scourge
Affiliation:
Ward member
Biography:
Vince had an average life for a child raised by parents who are in the top one percent, though his parents were strict. He had to focus on his studies almost exclusively, leading to a sort of scholarly isolation. It didn't jade Vince though, as it was the only life he knew, and he never noticed how other kids had parties in the afternoon while he instead had study sessions. Where other students would watch movies, he would instead read "Catcher in the Rye," and as such isolation became a fact of life. Even his parents ignored him, always expecting perfection, and though content to observe it in their son, not surprised.
All through elementary school, middle school, and currently most of high school he has had perfect grades. Never less then one hundred percent, and often more when possible. Brute force met all schoolwork head on, and Vince always won. Loneliness became so common that his parents finally started to worry when he was sixteen. They decided he needed to find something to strive for besides good grades, oblivious to the fact that it was their fault he had embraced such isolation. They payed the hefty fee required, and Vince got his powers artificially through Cauldron. He chose an unstable enough formula to be considered a case 53. At first the change was small enough to not matter, a small black indent on his chest, but as Vince used his power more, the indent became an intricate structure across his entire body.
At seventeen currently, Vince is a member of the Wards. He seems to be the odd one out though as he rarely signs up for extra patrols, and continues his scholarly pursuits. He is viewed as weird at school, and has expressed no interest, currently, in any gender, or material object besides grades. Currently he does, as his parent wished, strive for one thing: Justice. Despite the Powers being his parent's idea, they still view him as a monster currently, secretly resenting his less then pristine appearance.
Personality:
Vince is a very reserved individual, and his presence is easily forgotten in the midst of conversation. However he has no problem participating in dialogue, he doesn't go out of his way to contribute information. He is admittedly dull witted, and rarely makes jokes, or apprecietes them. He is a fan of one-liners though.
Residence:
Private residence in gated community.
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
Normally a grey hoodie, and sweats. When he is on a serious patrol he will take fireproof Tinker made gear.
Power:
Vince is a pyrokinetic, and is able to generate flames from his mouth, and from the black lines across his body. Unfortunately items touching him are not fire proof in the least. The hotter Vince gets, the more black lines spread across his body (They started forming from the chest.) He is only able to control fire within thirty meters of himself, and can only make the flame as hot as 180 Celsius, though he can generate this heat from seemingly nowhere. Vince also has a very deep understanding of how heat will spread throughout a 3D space (Given he has seen all parts to the space.) As such he can easily trap criminals without actually harming them. He can even suspend fire in mid air using his pyrokinesis. The hotter his external body temperature the more resilient he becomes. At his maximum heat he becomes completely bulletproof, though his eyesight does suffer, and his reaction time is dulled.
Power range:
Exponentially decreases in power strength at range.
Power safeguards:
Fireproof, and can survive longer without oxygen then most humans, also doesn't panic when he can't breathe.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 2
Blaster: 3
Striker: 6
Breaker: 6
Shaker: 6
Weapons:
None |
49,242 | 1,329 | 35 | 2,223 | 11 | Stupid Bank
"A name? He wanted a name. Does that mean I'm a suspect?! I just needed god damn money not this freak show!"She took great notice that his full attention was on her.
Her face flushed a tad in the process and noise of everything she realized she had started to ramble.
Spencer was now annoyed, but she didn't let that show on her ongoing facade. "He possibly just needs me as a witness," She told her self, in the process of sending her tidbit of paranoia to an onlooker she saw dwindling on the outside of the bank.
She honestly didn't know what was going on, but assuming had got her into a bad position. Again. That's what assuming does. Makes an ass out of me and you.
"My name's Spencer," She calmly replied with a polite smile.
The girl cracked her knuckles getting impatient of being questioned like a criminal. Not that she wasn't.
"There's no need to get all hot n' bothered, darling. I'm just assuming since I don't see so much drama for just ONE cape or a normal bank robbery. This must be a pretty powerful cape then, huh? Since you're finding me so sketchy" Spencer explained, letting he hands fall to her sides.
"This guy needs to chill," She wanted to chuckle at the pun she made. The guy was a fairly known cape. Those "tattoos", or whatever he'd like to call them, were noticeable and not normal. Plus when he touched her, the girl could practically feel the heat radiating off the twirly crevices.
Spencer decided to slowly feed the feeling of calmness into the cape in front of her, easing the paranoia out of him and into her palms for "safe keeping". | Real name:
Spencer
(Not public knowledge Spencer is a cape)
Gender:
N/A
Appearance is sociably acceptable as female.
Appearance:
Dark waist length hair, bangs are chin length and lavender as are the end of their hair, green/emerald eyes, 6'1, left arm has a sleeve of tribal/vine/flower tattoos
Hero/Villian name:
Undecided
Affiliation:
Evil Rogue
Biography:
Spencer was born to an English/German mother and Arabic father, hence her tan skin and dark hair, in New York. Born an only child, the first few years were simple and sweet. Until, at age 6, her parents tried to have another child. Her mother carried her unborn sibling for 5 months before sadly the child didn't make it.
Her mother and father were wrecked afterwards and took out their misfortune on their first and only child. That's why her mental state went to shit. Now she suffers with a manic bipolar disorder and mild depression. Including the beatings she was not feed regularly so she had to go to stealing and as time went by she got good at it.
Age 10 to 14 they were bullied for her/their ripped dark cloths and low class. During those times she would try to stay in the background and hide. But she was always kind to those around her. Home for her was still rough and hiding the bruises and cuts became more difficult. She didn't think it could get worse. It did.
The Leviathan attack on New York killed both her parents as she looked on from inside an Endbringer vault. Ironically enough, despite the abuse, this triggered Spencer. Though she didn't display her power, she did start testing it. Her tests soon made her realize she could manipulate people's emotions.
As a refugee she was sent to Chicago to live in an orphanage while attending one of the worse off schools. Fortunately it was still better then the ghettos she lived in in New York.
As more time went on she realized she could give off bits and pieces of her emotions to those around as well as see the aura of their personality around them. The more she used her power in the person the easier it was.
After a long time of being frustrated with the normal necessities of life that she couldn't get at the orphanage she began plundering again. Money, clothes, drugs, you name it. She often uses her power to help avoid being caught.
Personality:
Spencer is always happy to hers and those around hers knowledge, though she is fairly short tempered because of her bipolar disorder. She is also very strange and not regular "there". She has fun manipulating people she has no liking for.
Residence:
Nomad. They move around.
Parental status:
Both deceased: Died in leviathan attack.
Costume:
Undecided by Spencer.
Power:
Can make people she knows the location of feel emotions. The better she's knows the person the easier the target. When transferring the emotion, depending on the level she gives, the same level of emotion she will lack (Example: she's depressed and transfers someone near her to be sad her depression will falter). She can see emotions in the form of hazy colors around others like an aura. Depending on the emotion the color changes.
Power range:
As far as needed, with the maximum distance being a mile. The more she know the person the easier the power is to use on them.
Power safeguards:
N/A
PRT ranking:
Stranger 3
shaker: 1
Thinker: 1
Master: 4
Weapons:
A knife. Always a knife. An Arabian styled dagger, the last thing she has from her father. |
49,243 | 1,329 | 36 | 1,105 | 2,351 | Alley Behind the Bank
Movement caught Chroma's eye as Blackout began to dart out from behind the cover again. Despite the intense pain racking his brain, Chroma knew he had to focus on Blackout's sudden bravery. Chroma moved his left hand from holding his head to pressing the ear communicator. "We have an enemy Master class cape in the vicinity. Blackout spotted. Moving to capture." While in the middle of his comms, Chroma flung the glob of green paint with his right hand, aimed to intercept the sliding cape somewhere along his trajectory towards Chroma. The green paint was supernaturally heavy, even a single drop weighing enough to be felt. Getting splashed by the green paint was often enough to overwhelm humans who weren't supernaturally strong, though there was obvious variation that would depend on exactly how much paint got on them.
But as Blackout continued to get closer, Chroma continued to relay as much information as he could. "At least three capes in the vicinity. Master digging into my mind with some kind of-" At this point his words began to lose meaning, descending into gibberish. For a brief moment he was confused, but it was the signal that he was now within range of Blackout's powers. Talking was pointless now. And it quickly became the least of his worries as the psychic attack on his mind increased in magnitude. Blackout said something, Chroma couldn't tell what, as he slid past. In that same timeframe, Regus had launched a chunk of asphalt in Chroma's direction. It was easy to spot considering he was already facing that general direction and it was easy to dodge without moving by twisting his upper body and leaning backwards at a sharp angle, a testament to his own physical fitness and quick witted-ness. While arrogant in his own way, Chroma wasn't stupid. He knew that if he took another step right now, while within Blackout's range, he would succumb to the blue paint he was standing in the midst of and fall. He had to stand in place for now, for just a moment. After avoiding the plate of road, Chroma directed his attention forward, trying to keep his mind off the pain and on his duty, to see where Regus was running. Unfortunately for him he didn't get to spend much time scanning for Regus.
The invisible Serephina slammed into him from the air, plunging her knife into his midsection. This would come to a surprise for her as well, considering the knife would not only refuse to penetrate the grey-paint coated uniform but even break off at the handle from the weight of the impact and the resistance of the cloth. Chroma's grey paint had a stronger consistency than even steel, something a simple knife wouldn't be able to slash through. But the impact itself served another purpose separate from injuring Chroma: it knocked him down. Both he and Serephina would tumble onto the blue paint, Chroma being moderately confused as to what hit him and why it felt like someone attempted to stab him. It would take a few seconds to piece together that an invisible girl tried to take a piece of him, especially considering the throbbing pain in his head did no favors for his coordination, but Chroma instinctively had a plan of attack.
He knew that once Blackout was out of range he could negate the blue paint he was now covered in, which would allow him to get back up. And after that he could fling a wide arc of green paint in Blackout's direction, something which would hopefully knock down and pin both Blackout and the unknown Serephina that had just made his day even worse. Assuming that all went well and that neither the Master attacking his mind nor anyone else in Blackout's crew had any more tricks up their sleeves, Chroma would have to issue some kind of perimeter scan. A Master class is dangerous, particularly one with enough range that could circumvent a need for line-of-sight. This guy (or girl) was most likely also a Thinker. As Chroma's words began to come back to him with the distance gained by Blackout, he had only one thing to say. "Not today!" He had no way of knowing where Serephina was, but he already began to prepare a large swath of green paint to douse the two criminals in. Their only hope of avoiding it would be to either dodge it by going above or under it, or to get out of the alley someway. The kind of weight that would be behind the paint hitting them would be nothing to walk off, likely even breaking bones if caught at an unfortunate angle. | Real name:
Alex Rowland
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Hero/Villian name:
Chroma
Affiliation:
Good, Ward
Biography:
A young American teenager born and raised in San Francisco. His father was an artist of varying fields and his mother was an impressionable accountant. Alex was raised in a very liberal household that valued his strengths and ignored his weaknesses, leading to an inflated ego from a young age. They were not a wealthy family, as the only source of income came from his mother's steady job. His father was doing something different every year. One year he is an actor, another he is a painter, but no matter what he's doing it doesn't make money. Alex initially resented that part about his father, but in time he would be indoctrinated by his charismatic old man. Art wasn't meant to make profit, it was meant to entertain. Art was a way of life, not a job.
Alex would receive both Trigger Events simultaneously when he was fifteen and attended his father's very first art show. A culmination of his old man's entire life's works put on display for the public to see. Only it was not well received. It would be an understatement to say the high-class establishment that funded and hosted his event were displeased with his paintings' "child-like" qualities. A crowd gathered to mock and harass the Rowland family. The humiliation didn't stop with the art show, as drunk patrons awaited the Rowland family as they left that night and assaulted them in the street. They would've only attacked Alex's father, but young Alex was quick to succumb to his rage and jumped in. This resulted in the beating of a lifetime, putting him in the hospital alongside his father.
He didn't realize his powers for almost a month after the event, when he was mostly healed from the fight and out of the hospital. An angry Alex was quick to abuse this, destroying the building that catered to the dramatic art show that stained his father's reputation and almost killed the two of them. This put him on the PRT's radar and they approached his family the next day. They were willing to overlook his crime in order to form him into a true hero that could wield his powers wisely and safely. Alex saw this as an opportunity to become famous like his father could not. He accepted the proposal without haste, though his father demanded he wouldn't be taken to the Los Angeles department out of prejudice. The PRT granted their wish and instead sent Alex all the way to Chicago, Illinois. He has since become a Ward for the PRT, donning the alias of Chroma for his superhero acts.
Personality:
Some may be believe Alex to be a genuine and upstanding citizen with impeccable morals and a capacity for empathy. They would be gravely mistaken. Alex Rowland isn't just sly and conniving but incredibly full of himself. An egomaniac that uses justice as a means to parade his greatness. Life is like one big show to him and he's none other than the leading role. He finds himself to be a gift from God and behaves in an accordingly eccentric and extravagant way that often brings up questions of his sexuality. Despite caring for himself above all else he does have some morals, finding it easy to injure but difficult to kill. One can also say that he has decent self-control, but only when he puts on his mask. His arrogance puts off many people, but somehow it is overlooked whenever he dons his superhero costume.
Residence:
PRT Building
Parental status:
Both are alive and well living in San Francisco, California.
Costume:
A white full-body suit with white boots and gloves alongside a black masquerade mask to cover a large part of Alex's face, all the while his hair is slicked back. The costume has no inherent protection value.
Power:
Chromatic Overload - Alex has the power to change the colors of everything around him in the world. Likewise he can "create" his own "colors" that appear to be floating blobs of paint that can have diverse effects when they come into contact with a target. He can then fling these masses of color at his opponents as a means of combat. RED would burn, BLUE would drench, YELLOW would electrify, etc. The effects cannot be interchanged between colors as they are unique to their individual coloring. While most of his powers revolve around "adding" color, Alex also has the ability to "subtract" color which will turn the affected object or person invisible. The effects of Chromatic Overload's color-changing aspect can be negated by Trump powers or by exiting Alex's range, but the color that is created can only be removed by Alex or Trump powers, making their effects possibly permanent.
Power range:
100m general range. Colors can only be created and manipulated less than 1m away from his hands, afterwards it is entirely based on momentum and can no longer be controlled, only erased. Thrown colors cannot exit the 100m range unless they land on something, at which point they can. Colors can be changed at the full 100m range, same with removing colors. Changed colors that go beyond the 100m range will naturally revert to their natural colors without any intervention. Any object that has had its colors removed will also return to normal once it passes the 100m range.
Power safeguards:
Alex has complete immunity to his own powers. He cannot change his own colors, he cannot apply colors to himself, and he cannot take colors away from himself. This only applies to his body directly, as he can still use Chromatic Overload on his clothes and equipment just fine.
PRT ranking:
Blaster: 6
Striker: 3
Changer: 5
Stranger: 3
Weapons:
Alex carries no weapons. |
49,244 | 1,329 | 37 | 2,253 | 659 | Vince
Freaking the Fuck Out
Spencer informed Vince there was no need to get hot and bothered, and he grimaced. That wasn't the worst thing he had been called, but it was a new one. Chroma started speaking through the earpiece, and instinctively Vince raised his hand to his ear, and pushed the piece closer so he could hear better. He was informed there was a master, and Blackout in the area, along with the villain who had destroyed the vault. Chroma started describing the Master before his words started slurring and he stuttered out incoherent gibberish.
After a slight pause Vince sprinted towards the way of the vault. His fire quickly started spinning around his body, burning off his clothes and creating a striking figure. An X shape enveloped his back and chest, the lines on his body glowing bright like magma. The floating fire was also gently laced around his legs, though the heat was all directed at his body. The only bit of clothes that weren't burned off were his boxers, luckily. They were obviously tinker made to be heat resistant, and they were the a deep black.
As he grew warmer his skin grew tougher and tougher. No upper limit had been reached as far as his resilience to heat ratio, though he could only get himself so hot. Vince scanned the halls as he ran, arriving in the vault just as he heard Chroma say, "Not today," and he had to smile. Chroma was very. . . Serious? That wasn't the right word. Cliche! That was it. Vince gave himself a mental pat on the back for remembering the word, before crossing to the exit of the vault, his fire swirling around him dangerously.
Blackout
Bank Alley
As Blackout slid he saw Chroma lob paint at him, and was thankful the man was distracted. The paint sailed over his head, a little behind him, letting Blackout get close enough to disable Chroma's power. A small smile graced his face, and he whispered, "Bye," right before Chroma left his range.
Blackout pointed the gun at Chroma, and steadied it, but the man flew backwards suddenly, with something on top of him. No one was there. . . No Serephina had been there. She had made her play, and as her invisibility faded momentarily he saw her tumble over Chroma and slide into the wall. She was now thoroughly coated with paint, though Blackout soon forgot about her as her power activated again.
Then Blackout wanted to die. The feeling of knives stabbing him, and needles entering his arm enveloped his senses before he appeared in the van. He was panting, and fell to his knees, not a drop of blood on him. The armored veteran-looking man from before was standing in front of him. Blackout stopped screaming when he noticed he was, and fell over. Drho in the van would only see the man with body armor stand up, before disappearing, and reappearing immediately with Blackout in his arms. Gael wouldn't see this so much as sense this. The man didn't so much as glance at Drho before disappearing again.
Inside the van was the same glasses clad man from before, who glanced up to look at Drho. He smiled slightly, his skin taut over every inch of exposed skin. The man clearly had poor eating habits, and it was showing quite clearly. His pale skin seemed paper thin, though he didn't seem uncomfortable in the least. He suddenly stood up, and walked to the open door of the van, motioning Drho to follow. He waved to Gael, and spoke loudly to him.
"Hello Nightfall, Drho, I'm Seth,and I'll be your precog," He said simply, his voice a bit too high pitched for his gender. "Take a seat. The man who just about killed Blackout will be back shortly. His cape name is Greed, a teleporter who, understandably, hates his power. It makes you feel a very intense pain. He's currently looking for Serephina,"
As Seth spoke, Greed was doing just that. Greed was right next to where he had previously seen Serephina, ignoring Chroma. Any attempt at attacking Greed would be answered by a wordless teleport before he returned to searching. Every teleport admittedly took a bit more out of him, but the forty year old man had dealt with much worse.
"It's time to leave, Serephina. If you don't wanna die. . ." He called out, his voice the exact opposite of Seth's; Gruff, manly, and all business. It clearly wasn't a threat, but he did want to hurry this up. Greed could tell; Vince had arrived, the smoke leaking out of the vault was a very clear indicator, and fire started to leak out as well as Vince exited, and teleporting didn't work if you were surrounded by fire. Or were in fire. | Real name:
Vince Kiran
(He is publicly known to be a ward)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Though in clothed profile he may appear normal, below his collarbone are intricate black lines, almost like tattoos but with more depth. At his chest they make simple elegant curves, but turn into more primitive hard lines as they go over his arms and hands. They are warmer then his body temperature, and have small cracks within them. He is clearly Caucasian.
Hero/Villian name:
Scourge
Affiliation:
Ward member
Biography:
Vince had an average life for a child raised by parents who are in the top one percent, though his parents were strict. He had to focus on his studies almost exclusively, leading to a sort of scholarly isolation. It didn't jade Vince though, as it was the only life he knew, and he never noticed how other kids had parties in the afternoon while he instead had study sessions. Where other students would watch movies, he would instead read "Catcher in the Rye," and as such isolation became a fact of life. Even his parents ignored him, always expecting perfection, and though content to observe it in their son, not surprised.
All through elementary school, middle school, and currently most of high school he has had perfect grades. Never less then one hundred percent, and often more when possible. Brute force met all schoolwork head on, and Vince always won. Loneliness became so common that his parents finally started to worry when he was sixteen. They decided he needed to find something to strive for besides good grades, oblivious to the fact that it was their fault he had embraced such isolation. They payed the hefty fee required, and Vince got his powers artificially through Cauldron. He chose an unstable enough formula to be considered a case 53. At first the change was small enough to not matter, a small black indent on his chest, but as Vince used his power more, the indent became an intricate structure across his entire body.
At seventeen currently, Vince is a member of the Wards. He seems to be the odd one out though as he rarely signs up for extra patrols, and continues his scholarly pursuits. He is viewed as weird at school, and has expressed no interest, currently, in any gender, or material object besides grades. Currently he does, as his parent wished, strive for one thing: Justice. Despite the Powers being his parent's idea, they still view him as a monster currently, secretly resenting his less then pristine appearance.
Personality:
Vince is a very reserved individual, and his presence is easily forgotten in the midst of conversation. However he has no problem participating in dialogue, he doesn't go out of his way to contribute information. He is admittedly dull witted, and rarely makes jokes, or apprecietes them. He is a fan of one-liners though.
Residence:
Private residence in gated community.
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
Normally a grey hoodie, and sweats. When he is on a serious patrol he will take fireproof Tinker made gear.
Power:
Vince is a pyrokinetic, and is able to generate flames from his mouth, and from the black lines across his body. Unfortunately items touching him are not fire proof in the least. The hotter Vince gets, the more black lines spread across his body (They started forming from the chest.) He is only able to control fire within thirty meters of himself, and can only make the flame as hot as 180 Celsius, though he can generate this heat from seemingly nowhere. Vince also has a very deep understanding of how heat will spread throughout a 3D space (Given he has seen all parts to the space.) As such he can easily trap criminals without actually harming them. He can even suspend fire in mid air using his pyrokinesis. The hotter his external body temperature the more resilient he becomes. At his maximum heat he becomes completely bulletproof, though his eyesight does suffer, and his reaction time is dulled.
Power range:
Exponentially decreases in power strength at range.
Power safeguards:
Fireproof, and can survive longer without oxygen then most humans, also doesn't panic when he can't breathe.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 2
Blaster: 3
Striker: 6
Breaker: 6
Shaker: 6
Weapons:
None |
49,245 | 1,329 | 38 | 2,749 | 2,491 | Gael, Verens EstradaWatching by peering 'round the corner every so often, supplementing his actual physical vision with his power and of course his ability to hear properly, Gael listened as someone entered the scene more prominently. He let a small tendril of his influence connect to them and as it did he had to take a step away from the edge of the alley, staggering slightly. There was a return in pressure, something he had never experienced before, even if it was indeed quite faint. Then the man announced that he was a precog and it all fit into place.
Thinker, he thought, iridescent eyes narrowing within his hood. Having realized that he'd been called out in the same moment and by his cape name no less, Gael let a breath out and then walked into view, hands in his pockets--his gait and body relaxed, casual even. He raised a hand to any of the 'villains,' that could see him as he spoke, "Hey," his voice level and non-committal. He crossed half the distance to them, then stopped, looking over the small distance at them. He glanced at the precog, Seth had been his name, and spoke "I'll follow you to base. I think joining up would be cool," he said, smiling slightly in the shadow of his hood. He made a mental note that lightning was going to be troublesome, he ought to fashion some kind of mask. Something that allowed view of his eyes and mouth, but perhaps hid his forehead, nose, and cheeks.
Frowning slightly beneath his hood, the shadows managing to barely shadow his upper face, with the exception of his eyes, Gael spoke again. "But, no offense, I've got my own ride. Be better not to be seen just yet, being new and all. Anything anyone needs to know before I go get my ride?" He turned partially, as if beginning to leave, eyes drifting from Seth and to any of the others. Now they'd simply have to give the go ahead and he could follow them back. Later stake the place out to see if it was set up in a truly...safe location. Nonetheless, he'd need to meet up and have an explanation for his bailing them out. They'd want to know, he figured. He had no intention, even with their precog, of explaining the full breadth of his power.
If only he knew what sort of precog Seth was. Maybe asking wouldn't be so terrible later on. Though, he hoped to know sooner than later. | Gael, Verens Estrada
Theme
His real name is unknown to the public.
Gender:
Male.
Appearance:
Of relatively average build for a teenage boy of 19, Gael stands at 5'6 and weighs roughly 175 lbs. When not out in the guise of Scour, Gael wears blue contacts. His eyes, as such, tend to take on a purple coloration due to the light pink and purple blending with the contacts. He carries around sunglasses as well and never wears the shirt with the 'eye emblem' on it.
Cape Alias:
Nightfall.
This name is one he's given himself. However, should the PRT name him something else he is unlikely to correct them. After all, this name alludes to the true nature of his ability, which is something that most are unlikely to fully grasp.
Affiliation:
Villain/Criminal.
Biography:
Growing up in a broken family, Gael quickly came to know the manipulative and unhealthy side of humanity. Even as a young child he watched his mother and father fight and bicker, sometimes striking one another. At first it was frightening, but as time went on he grew used to their dispositions and learned to deal with them. While some children might cower or run, Gael learned to manipulate his parents to get what he wanted and as he grew older this began to extend to others around him. However while he could manipulate his peers and his parents, school authorities served to be...less accepting of his behavior and so, one day in highschool and at the age of 16 his parents, James and Sarah received a call from one of their son's teachers.
All was well when his parents came to school to pick the boy up and bring him home, but upon leaving the building and arriving back home the two practically went ballistic on Gael, with his mother screaming at him and his father eventually growing so angry with his lack of response, punching him hard enough to knock him off his feet.
So unaccustomed to people retaliating to him was Gael that he hit a low point. He felt tears run down his face as he glared back up at his father, his head still reeling. The man glowered right back at him and, gritting his teeth, kicked Gael in the stomach. By now his mother began yelling at James, calling the punishment overboard, but Gael had long become deaf to them. A feeling of weakness and inexplicable anger built up in him till it rose to a peak and then suddenly it was as if everything went cold.
As his parents argued, the adolescent rose to his feet behind them, his face bruised and stomach aching from his father's blows. However, a small grin was on his face as he stared at his parents argue and then outright begin striking one another. Noticing his son's grin, James ceased the struggle with his wife and approached his son yelling at him, “Do you think this is funny!? You could have been expelled. After all your mom and I do for you, you pull some shit like this and then have the gall to grin at me like that!” His father raised his fist when Gael did not respond, but never went through with the strike as before he could it would seem as if all the color in the man's face would drain away at which point he crumpled down to his knees.
Afraid, Gael's mother went to the man, pleading with him to explain what was wrong. All the while Gael smirked down at them smugly. He wasn't sure how he had done it, but he knew it was his fault that his father had lost all his will to fight just then. The same happened to his mother as she looked up at him, tears in her eyes. Immediately a look of terror entered her eyes as she saw the eerie glow of her son's eyes and the strange lines of light that had spread from them. She tried to push herself away from him, which incited a small chuckle from Gael before he raised his hand, knowing what to do by instinct alone, and immediately his mother collapsed, unconscious.
- - - - -
In the days following the event, Gael's parents wouldn't even look at him, but due to the influence of his ability, had no will to contact anyone for help. Using this to his advantage he continued to highschool eventually graduating only a year later as he excelled far beyond his peers.
Applying with scholarship and financial aid to a rather prestigious college in Chicago, Gael convinced his largely subservient parents to move, and so they did. This puts us in the present time where merely using his abilities on “mundanes,” has grown boring to him.
As such he's begun going on outings, mainly at night, to stir up trouble in hope of attracting local do-gooders so he can break them too. He's not sure where he's going, but if it's anything like the last year or so, then it can only be more fun and to Gael that's really all that matters. Even if his idea of fun is...skewed.
Personality:
In short Gael is a manipulative, egocentric personality with narcissistic tendencies and a relatively small capacity for empathy. He uses people to achieve his ends, he's two faced and he lies more easily than he tells the truth. One might call him a social chameleon and they'd be right in saying as such, because it is often that he either blends in or instead chooses to use his charisma to create his own clique. Still, Gael is not all bad, as few are, and is rather a damaged boy with a lot of very bad habits and a closed heart.
Rather than face his flaws and insecurities he has long since locked them away, instead retaliating with a cold anger when questioned or confronted about how he treats people. He is stubborn, indignant and, well, arrogant not to mention he has a superiority complex. Overall he's what most would consider a toxic personality and really, they're right. Nonetheless, if perhaps he got some help for his issues he could improve. Until then he's only going to get worse and his rapidly growing intellect is going to make his decline into the darker end of the moral spectrum hell for everyone around him.
Residence:
Gael lives in his parent's house in the suburbs of Chicago.
Parental status:
While his Mother and Father are both alive, they are essentially puppets to him, set on a sort of autopilot which allows them to appear fairly normal to others.
Costume:
He tends to wear a black hoodie with a matching T-shirt beneath. On the shirt is a stylistic drawing of an eye. He wears black jeans and no mask. Instead his hoodie or his ability often obscures his identity. Gael carries his cellphone, which he's had jury rigged and set up with 20 lock screens unless he turns that setting off. He wears a pair of gloves so his fingerprints are never left behind. Additionally he carries a bottle of pepper spray.
Power:
Gael's ability focuses around an invisible aura, which he can utilize to siphon psychic energy, mentally draining humans and weakening the powers of parahumans before affecting their mind as well. This energy, once obtained, is assimilated by Gael by way of a secondary nervous system which stores and allocates his additional mental capacity. Personality traits are retained within psychic energy causing Gael's mind to be more of a hivemind than a normal human one. Aside from this is Gael's capacity to harness psychic energy he has gathered and focus it to attack the minds of others, penetrating their thoughts and weakening them. Conversely he might bolster or enhance communication with teammates should he use his power more constructively. Nonetheless, perhaps the most dangerous aspect of his ability is the result of prolonged exposure as over time one's suggestibility to Gael is increased while the capacity for conscious thought and decision making is decreased. While indeed a frightening prospect, this is something that would take days, weeks, or even months to achieve at best with the longest being years.
While the above details the majority of his ability's manifestation, Gael's perception was also effected by his trigger event, from that day on allowing him to see both his own aura and those of others. He can do this either with his eyes or by making contact with his aura. However doing so with just his aura will only notify him of an individual's mental state, whereas his eyes will tell him whether an individual is human or parahuman. A smoother aura is indicative of a more stable psyche whereas a rougher or scattered aura indicate an unstable or less stable one. Parahumans, in addition to possessing an aura texture also have colored auras while normal humans are perceived as gray scale. Brighter colors denote non-physical abilities, the brighter the color the more potent the ability while darker colors indicate more physical abilities. Neutral colors are somewhere in between the two or are abilities that cannot be clearly defined by either category. The color, aside from its brightness, seems to indicate the nature of the person more than it does the nature of their ability.
Notes: Gael's abilities can be subverted by the occasional Stranger-type ability. Being aware of his ability, its effect on you, or being averse to him in general makes you more resistant to his influence. Individuals with Thinker or Trump abilities are most resistant to him, with some Thinkers perhaps being entirely immune. However, power nullification does not work on him once you enter his field of influence—though it does make one more resistant to him. Gael is capable of siphoning psychic energy via direct physical contact, this method is the most efficient and as such drains people faster.
Power range:
Gael's ability, while possessing a relatively large area of effect, does not have a conventional range. Instead his area of influence, when unaltered, is a sphere with a 10 meter radius. Gael can redistribute the volume of these sphere thus altering its shape and allowing him to extend his range up to roughly 2.6 miles if he were to condense it into a single hyper-thin string.
Power safeguards:
While Gael's ability does not guard him against much it does make him largely immune to abilities that would seek to influence the mind. Additionally it gives him some measure of resistance to Trump abilities. Beyond this Gael's ability only makes him truly immune to two things, these being sensory overload and psychological breakdowns. This is largely due to the nature of his trigger event.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 7.
Master: 5.
Shaker: 4.
Striker: 4.
Trump: 3.
Weapons:
Gael carries a light, but durable baton that can extend and retract. Its minimum size is roughly 1.5 feet, while its max length when extended is 6 feet. The end of the baton has a sharp point and the baton will lock in place when opened unless pressure is applied on the handle. |
49,246 | 1,329 | 39 | 97 | 637 | In Shock; Covered in Blue Paint
Already on her stomach, next to a disorientated Chroma after being hit, Serephina raised her eyes and found that there was a swath of green paint sailing above her head. She concluded that it would not be a good idea for her to stand up right now so she wouldn't even try. She extended her hand in front of her in an attempt to try and pull herself along the ground but her hand immediately slipped and her face hit the ground hard. Shit. . . How am I going to get myself out of this? Maybe trying to stab this guy was a mistake on my part. She looked at the scene around her and noticed with dispair that her only weapon, had broken in her attempt at assault. Dammit! That was my only defense mechanism. Now I'm DEFINITELY going to have to steal something from Blackout's warehouse.
Just then, she heard a rather frighteningly deep voice command her to come with him. Looking up again from the blue ground, she saw the source of the voice. Teleportation sounded like a damn good idea in a situation where one couldn't stand or crawl. "Okay, fine. Just get me out of here before I embarrass myself some more." She said in a muffled, closed mouthed kind of voice, trying not to get paint in her mouth. As the teleportation process began, she suddenly felt extreme pain in her head, arms, legs and chest. She let out a rather loud groan and wondered why this pain was needed. Was the person teleporting her even taking her where he had said he was? To answer her question, she found herself in the back of the van with Blackout, looking very disappointed. Frustrated, tired and feeling useless, she spoke up angrily, "So your brilliant plan didn't work did it? Or should I say bullshit attemot at crime with NO plan?!" With a sigh, she let her head slam back against one wall of the van, running her fingers through her hair to try and calm her breathing.
She wondered where Drho had gone. He had fled after hurling a piece of the cement road at Chroma's head but she had no respect for someone who ditched their team in the middle of a battle, especially when she had literally ran straight at Chroma to try and save this piss poor attempt at a bank robbery. He was a good member of the team but he needed to work on his abandonment issues. . . | Real name:
Serephina Mayhem
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Tall, skinny but with proportionate curves. Has many small scars from self harm and freckles in all the usual places. Has dark brown hair, green eyes and fair colored skin. Very strong boned and has a lot of force behind her body weight.
Is it public knowledge that your character is a cape?:
No
Hero/Villain name:
To be decided
Affiliation:
Rouge
Biography:
When she was first born, her mother took care of her for a couple months but then abandoned her with her boyfriend’s brother’s family where she was severely abused for 2 and a half years. She has never met her real father and plans to look for him whenever she can get to a bigger city where someone can help her. Her first trigger event was one specific day when her antagonizers came down into the basement where she was being held and proceeded to beat her with what was called a “morning star” for more than 2 hours.
Serephina's trigger event happened after her attackers left the basement. When the lights were shut off, she noticed that she could see perfectly in the pitch blackness and hear what her attackers were talking about upstairs no matter how far away from her they were. It didn't matter because they were all in the same house. Her being simply a year and a half old when it happened, she didn't know what she was capable of until she was taken into her grandparent's custody and accidentally stumbled on her super speed power when running away from a rattlesnake that was trying to strike her.
She discovered her hologram when she was a freshman in high school. Serephina had a bully that would corner her in the halls during passing period and try to harm her. One time, when she was being bullied, she closed her eyes and prepared to receive a punch in the stomach when she noticed that nothing had happened. She opened her eyes and there was what looked like a twin of herself holding the girl in a headlock. The hologram motioned for her to run and that's what she did. (It cannot speak.)
(Outside character knowledge:) I would also like to add some things about my hologram. it is my strongest power. When the hologram is protecting her, no one else but her, can see it. For instance, if someone tries to attack her and Serephina activates her hologram, it will simply look like the attack is hitting an unidentified force. It also has the ability to cover Serephina in a bubble like force field that blocks all sound frequencies from penetrating it. The hologram does not take damage. I want it to have one weakness but I have yet to decide what that is yet.
She was also never fed. After the horror was ended when her grandparents took her into their home, she from there on she had disassociation syndrome. This is a disease that affects your relationships with others. A person with this mental condition does not feel strong emotions towards very many people or things. When they get attached to someone however, they will never let go and will be very loyal. Everyone else however, they will be completely numb to and have no feelings of love or attachment. All through middle school and high school, she never fit in with anyone except a few of the social outcasts that made her feel like she could be herself. But when those friends moved away, she had nothing left in school so she dropped out her junior year.
Soon after dropping out, she left home. She packed her stuff in the middle of the night, left a note saying that she left and was never seen again by her grandparents. The police looked for for a year but then gave up when they found nothing. Her cat is the only thing she has that means the world to her and loves. She has trained her cat to follow her wherever she goes, come when she is called and obey certain commands.
Personality:
Quiet when you first meet her but if she lets you get close to her, she becomes more comfortable and outgoing with you. Very argumentative and questions everything everyone says. She does not take anyone's word for anything. Very helpful when she sees others struggling and she knows she can help but she will not befriend anyone she helps. Friends come to her. Not the other way around. Keeps to herself mostly of the time but is polite and mildly friendly if approached.
Residence:
Doesn't have a home. She makes camp wherever she finds a safe place to rest for the night. She would rather wander alone than be at her Grandparent’s house.
Parental status:
Orphan. Her mother is alive but she has nothing to do with her and she has never met her real dad.
Costume:
She wears thin sneakers most of the time as opposed to other kinds of shoes so she is not weighed down when she runs. When she knows she might have to climb something or trudge through something difficult, she switches over to a pair of hiking boots which she carries in her backpack. She wears a dark green hoodie zipped up and something similar to yoga pants. She has implanted another layer of cloth on top of the original to keep her warm in whatever cold weather she encounters.
Power:
As a result of her abuse as a child, her power revolves around protection and flight skills. If she is in a bad situation and wants to leave, she can become invisible for a short enough period of time for her to get herself a good distance away from the situation. The higher her sense of danger or adrenaline, the longer her invisibility can stay active. Anything she holds will also be invisible. She also has super speed and the ability to create a twin hologram to protect her when she cannot protect herself. Her speed is an 80% increase than her normal running speed. This hologram can pick things up and move them to places Serephina wants her to. It cannot however go through solid objects. Whatever the hologram sees, Serephina sees. She can control what the hologram does, or let it act on it’s own. It has a database of several offensive and defensive battle techniques and its only purpose is to keep Serephina alive. It cannot take damage except for it's one weakness (which someone will figure out eventually.) Lastly, she has heightened hearing and sight. Heightened sight meaning she can see in the dark and see farther away than most people can. Her hearing has a farther distance range and higher frequency range than most normal people.
Power range:
Her powers have no distance limit except her hologram. It will shut down if she is more than 150 feet away from it after it is created.
Power safeguards:
Her powers only activate when she is in danger, or when her adrenaline levels are very high.
PRT ranking:
Mover: 5
Thinker: 3
Master: 0
Stranger: 7
Weapons:
Small hunting knife
Misc:
She carries a backpack with her wherever she goes that contains things she has stolen and her changes of socks, shoes and other clothing items from her past home. Her cat also hides in this backpack when Serephina wants her to. |
49,247 | 1,329 | 40 | 732 | 8,842 | Return Of The Stalker Van!
Did things always happen so fast when you were a criminal? It seemed like so many things happened in such rapid succession if not conjunction. Seth gestured for him and Nightfall, whoever that creepo was, to enter the van. This precog looked like Frankenstein, probably got out about as much too. Nightfall politely refused the offer, stating that he had his own ride; Odd eyes that one. From what little he could make of the guy they were about the same build and probably age. Nightfall seemed like one of the those guys who always had three plans hatching and you only ever knew about one of them. Meanwhile, Greed flickered several times, returning with both Blackout and the girl in a matter of moments. However this guy teleported he did it quite effectively. Blackout was trembling on the floor of the van and the girl immediately began practically screaming at Blackout. Apparently the teleporting was rather strenuous on the passengers.
He stepped into the van with a simple nod to Seth, "Instead of being a bitc- brat." She was still a girl after all, albeit a rude one, no surprise there. Hopefully either wasn't part of the 'team' he was to be on, or she wasn't like this all the time. Because so far she was pretty dang annoying and useless. Part of it was that Regus felt a need to protect Blackout and partly because he plain disliked women that whined all the time. Reminded him of a little too much. "You might note that we have a large bag of cash and no one is in sight, which means we're home free. That is unless you want to stay here and continue belittling us or we can get going!"
The last word was rather pointed, aimed at Seth and whoever the driver was. No one was here yet but he had a feeling Chroma wasn't exactly going to sit still and wait for them to make a clean escape. While their money was admittedly still as pale as cauliflower, Regus was confident they could fix it or it would wear off. Cape's powers tended to wear off with range after all. Usually. It didn't really matter, he had a mil either plus whatever he'd just made. Life was looking, just slightly, better. Regus didn't really care who Blackout was, why Nightfall was here, who the girl was, why the Boss had hired them. Money in the bank. As his parents had so eloquently shown him, money was power, and Regus loved the feeling of power like a drowning man loved oxygen. | Real name:
Regus Exavius (Identity as villain, Unknown)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Typically wears dull gray or black clothes, comfortable sweatpants he can run in and basic sneakers. Also wears these under his costume.
Hero/Villian name:
Drho
Affiliation:
Evil
Biography:
Regus was born in Chicago, both his parents safe and sound. His mother was a smart women who wasn't keen on doing work. As a result she managed to latch onto a very wealthy business man who happened to be short on family. Regus was pampered to his heart's content in his childhood, just not by his parents. His father was always far too busy with, well business, and his mother was always out spending her husband's money on feeding her addictions and going to parties. Not that she told him, to his father's knowledge his mother was either caring for Regus or running errands. Not to say Regus wasn't happy, quite the opposite. Like his mother his free time was greatly enhanced by his father's money. The newest game system, nicest clothes, best food. You name it Regus had it. School was easy both ways for him, Regus's natural intelligence and influential father gave him good grades and better friends, both with little effort. Regus's life was a gilded road, perfect student, star of the swim team, likable. Life was good. Then it slowly became not.
Regus was pampered not stupid. He noticed that things stopped becoming quite so gilded. He didn't ride to school in a limo anymore. Christmas was no longer a showering of gifts, barely a light drizzle. Forced smiles and nervous glances the few times they had family dinners. When his parents thought he was asleep or didn't care there were furious shouting matches.They were in debt. Regus's grades began slipping as his classes got harder and his focus dropped. He'd seen enough TV to know what was going on. Divorce was all be inevitable. Or it would've been if his father hadn't died of a stroke. At least that's what the police concluded. Regus knew better of course. His mother knew people. All kinds of people. He'd seen her come home with the powder, at first he thought it was just another one of her drugs. Then he saw her slip it in the wine. Addicting his father too? It'd come together when his father convulsed, dying within minutes. Regus knew had happened. The mansion they lived in was sold off, everything in it. They rented a sleezy apartment and his mother continued her lifestyle, living off her husbands money, searching for someone else when she burnt through that.
She never got that far though. After she'd done an admirable job of burning through nearly all of her funds she'd gotten herself arrested. It was a life sentence for several compiled offences. Ranging from possession and intent to sell all the way to murder. Not his father's but for several others. Regus was surprised, he'd known his mother wasn't the best person and had killed his father, but he hadn't known she'd killed others. Not perhaps it shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. Regardless Regus was left in a lurch. He'd barely managed to graduate, didn't have any job skills, and was practically penniless. Regus ended up joining a gang, only half by choice. They'd been very insistent in recruiting him and leaving wasn't really an option for him. After going through his initiation he quickly found out you were either all in or all out. And once you were all in, you didn't get out. The crew had a couple of capes leading it. After several months of reluctantly committing crimes and doing as little as he could get away with.
Then one morning he woke up in a metal box. It barely fit him, his legs were curled up to his chest with hardly an inch of space to move in any given direction. Several hours of screaming until his voice grew hoarse bore no result. He clawed as best he could at the walls trapping him until his fingers bleed but it bore no result. Regus was in there for days. He never found out how long. Sometime in the haze of cramped limbs, gasping for air, and the headache ringing through his skull it got worse. A metal spike was driven through the metal box skewering his arm. And another one right next to it. Regus thought he couldn't scream anymore, he'd been wrong. When he woke up he found the metal box looked like it melted around him, in solidified lumps on the ground around him. The spike wasn't there anymore either. Regus shakily got to hands and knees, then looked around. There was a chair, with a half eaten sandwich on the ground to it. He was in some random alleyway. He crawled to the sandwich and devoured it. There was still a hole in his arm that had somehow managed to stop bleeding. Regus managed to get to his feet leaning against a wall for support. A wallet. There was a wallet on the chair. Regus snatched it and rifled through it, nearly a hundred bucks, enough to survive for a while. He managed to stagger his way into a cafe and get some more food, funny looks aside, it was Chicago, they'd seen worse.
He managed to find out that his gang had gotten taken down at one of the big meetings. The PRT had gone full force on them and no one had made it out. Still didn't explain what he'd been doing in a metal box with a hole through his arm. He used the reminder of the money on medical supplies as best he could to patch up his arm. Then he found out his power. He'd wearily leaned against a bench to rest, still drained from the experience and the bench bent beneath his weight like playdoh. Several experiments later he'd confirmed it. He had powers. Regus must've had a trigger event in that hellish box. Over the next few days Regus consumed his food supply and tested the extent of his powers. With no money, no one he knew, and nothing else to go on. Crime came naturally. When you could nearly literally walk through walls, stealing was easy. At first it was small things. Food, jewelry, but then he experimented more with power. Become used to it. He got easier and the prizes he took bigger and more valuable. Regus wasn't surviving anymore, he was living. Better off than any other seventeen year old he knew. Of course he didn't really know any so the point was moot.
Personality:
Regus is as you might expect, somewhat disillusioned with the world. People suck. However Regus isn't what he would call a bad person. He doesn't go out his way to make people's lives suck. His difficult life has given him an amazing amount of tenacity as well as a distrust of people. Regus is very confident in himself and his abilities but always tries to have a backup plan. Overall he gives off a lazy impression but this is more to deceive people than anything else.
A passing glance won't reveal his self-assurance in the way he carries himself, however when he is caped its quite clear. Still new to the villain business Regus is out for himself, not actively hurting anyone per say, just looking out for himself. Luckily he's managed to avoid any major confrontations with any capes or police force but he knows it won't last for long. He's prepared to do whatever it takes if that becomes the case. Though he hopes it won't come to that.
Residence:
Crummy Apartment
Parental status:
Father dead, Mother in jail.
Costume:
Long flowing black robes to conceal his identity and for use with his power. Also wears a demon face-mask
Power:
Regus can manipulate an object's density. The most frequent thing he does with this is makes things soft, like puddy, so he can push, squish, and reshape them. This allows him to go through conventional barriers with ease by softening them and tearing them apart. In addition he can use it to make things more stiff. For example he could make clothing have the rigidness of a brick, that is to say it doesn't move anymore it remains solid against any force that pushes against it.
This allows him to immobilize people rather easily by hardening their clothes. This effect wears off after around ten minutes or if Regus removes the effects. Regus can do something like puddy-ify a TV and squish into a ball then reform it, but he wouldn't be able to change the dimensions into say a bigger TV, or turn it into another piece of machinery, though this is more a lack of knowledge than ability. The same applies to other objects. Manton effect applies.
Power range:
1 meter around his body 2 meter through contact of modified objects. Constant throughout effected area.
Power safeguards:N/A
PRT ranking:
Changer: 8
Stranger: 2
Brute:6
Striker: 5
Weapons:
A bullwhip
Misc: |
49,248 | 1,329 | 41 | 2,223 | 11 | With the Hot and Bothered Scourge
Watching Scourge grimace at her "hot and bothered" joke made her smirk in victory. She never thought she'd get a rise out of his boring stature. she was too busy bathing in her triumph and the awe of his aura that the quick color of panic that flared out of his core caught her off guard.
"Scourge!" A scream left her mouth as the cape rush past her, off to the back of the bank were the sound of a rock smashed against a wall. Sure she hadn't gotten his real name but she knew the cape.
Spencer skid to a halt as she watched the man in front of her burst into flames before her eyes. Though caught of guard she didn't stop them self from watching as the flames rippled over his skin. She would never admit this to anyone, for they'd think she was insane but she found the flames alarmingly beautiful. The way his cracks/tattoos seemingly became molten magma across his back and along his arms and the way the flames danced around him and blended with his aura made the bright colors burst.
Spencer snapped her self out of her trance and took in Scourge's attire. She almost burst into fits of laughter but it wasn't the time for that. A humorous thought came to her mind and soon formed a sentence from her lips.
"Not even the first date and you're already stripping for me?" What? She couldn't help being so humorous. | Real name:
Spencer
(Not public knowledge Spencer is a cape)
Gender:
N/A
Appearance is sociably acceptable as female.
Appearance:
Dark waist length hair, bangs are chin length and lavender as are the end of their hair, green/emerald eyes, 6'1, left arm has a sleeve of tribal/vine/flower tattoos
Hero/Villian name:
Undecided
Affiliation:
Evil Rogue
Biography:
Spencer was born to an English/German mother and Arabic father, hence her tan skin and dark hair, in New York. Born an only child, the first few years were simple and sweet. Until, at age 6, her parents tried to have another child. Her mother carried her unborn sibling for 5 months before sadly the child didn't make it.
Her mother and father were wrecked afterwards and took out their misfortune on their first and only child. That's why her mental state went to shit. Now she suffers with a manic bipolar disorder and mild depression. Including the beatings she was not feed regularly so she had to go to stealing and as time went by she got good at it.
Age 10 to 14 they were bullied for her/their ripped dark cloths and low class. During those times she would try to stay in the background and hide. But she was always kind to those around her. Home for her was still rough and hiding the bruises and cuts became more difficult. She didn't think it could get worse. It did.
The Leviathan attack on New York killed both her parents as she looked on from inside an Endbringer vault. Ironically enough, despite the abuse, this triggered Spencer. Though she didn't display her power, she did start testing it. Her tests soon made her realize she could manipulate people's emotions.
As a refugee she was sent to Chicago to live in an orphanage while attending one of the worse off schools. Fortunately it was still better then the ghettos she lived in in New York.
As more time went on she realized she could give off bits and pieces of her emotions to those around as well as see the aura of their personality around them. The more she used her power in the person the easier it was.
After a long time of being frustrated with the normal necessities of life that she couldn't get at the orphanage she began plundering again. Money, clothes, drugs, you name it. She often uses her power to help avoid being caught.
Personality:
Spencer is always happy to hers and those around hers knowledge, though she is fairly short tempered because of her bipolar disorder. She is also very strange and not regular "there". She has fun manipulating people she has no liking for.
Residence:
Nomad. They move around.
Parental status:
Both deceased: Died in leviathan attack.
Costume:
Undecided by Spencer.
Power:
Can make people she knows the location of feel emotions. The better she's knows the person the easier the target. When transferring the emotion, depending on the level she gives, the same level of emotion she will lack (Example: she's depressed and transfers someone near her to be sad her depression will falter). She can see emotions in the form of hazy colors around others like an aura. Depending on the emotion the color changes.
Power range:
As far as needed, with the maximum distance being a mile. The more she know the person the easier the power is to use on them.
Power safeguards:
N/A
PRT ranking:
Stranger 3
shaker: 1
Thinker: 1
Master: 4
Weapons:
A knife. Always a knife. An Arabian styled dagger, the last thing she has from her father. |
49,249 | 1,329 | 42 | 1,105 | 2,351 | Alley Behind the Bank
Before Chroma's green paint would've incapacitated Blackout a random person appeared and grabbed the criminal, teleporting away in time to avoid the incredibly heavy liquid. This immediately infuriated Chroma. There's a fifth one!? With a grumble he formed another glob of green paint, preparing to fling it in the direction he believed Serephina was in before suddenly the teleporting man reappeared again. He was clearly trying to rescue the invisible girl as well. Normally stepping on the blue paint would result in a tumble, but it seemed the teleporter either knew physics or was lucky enough to get the idea that just standing completely still and balanced while teleporting would keep him from kissing the floor. Either way Chroma didn't wait for him to just leave with the other cape. "Don't want to spend time in the Birdcage, do ya!?" Chroma shouted at him before flinging it at him. Of course Greed was able to teleport out of the way, but Chroma continued to barrage him with green paint until he finally stopped appearing. The alleyway was mostly blue but now had many various green splotches all over.
After a moment of silent rage Chroma finally negated all the paint in the alleyway. But he very specifically didn't negate the blue paint that had gotten on Blackout, Serephina, and Greed. While the white bills would return to color once they truly got away, the paint they had stepped or fallen in would not. Greed would only have it on the bottom of his feet, where he could take off his shoes if he didn't want to fall down every time he tried to move. Blackout had it the next worst, as it was along his feet, pants, and one side of his torso. He'd have to strip down and probably even wash his hands if he ever wanted to stop slipping. Serephina was in a similar state to Blackout, but due to having fallen into the paint in a tumble rather than a straight fall she had much more of it covering her. She would also have to find new clothes and probably even wash her face and hair if she wanted to truly get rid of it. While Chroma couldn't stop them from escaping he would at least cause them further inconvenience. No matter how far they were teleported away they would have to deal with the blue paint themselves.
"Mover cape on scene. He teleported the other capes to another location. Stranger also confirmed, capable of being invisible. Five capes confirmed, wouldn't be surprised if there was more. They got away with the money," Chroma began relaying into his earpiece communicator. From the corner of his eye he saw the bright figure of Scourge entering the alleyway since it was now devoid of paint to hinder him. "The money was put in a white van. It left the back alley approximately a minute ago, set up a perimeter around the district to find it. Wherever the Mover went won't matter because they'll have to regroup at that van to get all the money." With his information relayed Chroma finally turned to face Scourge. The pain was still throbbing in his head, but in a way he was getting used to it. The severity hadn't toned down yet but Chroma was a stubborn person and wasn't about to just let this Master beat him in his own mind. But in the meanwhile he was not only in pain but in a terrible mood. "Let's go! We aren't going to let them just walk all over me like that! Blackout's Crew are within our grasp! And nobody makes Chroma look bad!" Chroma bolted down the alley in the direction the van had initially went, largely uncaring if Scourge was going to follow or not. He just knew that he could beat all of them in a fight, they just had to stop running and it would be his assured victory. | Real name:
Alex Rowland
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Hero/Villian name:
Chroma
Affiliation:
Good, Ward
Biography:
A young American teenager born and raised in San Francisco. His father was an artist of varying fields and his mother was an impressionable accountant. Alex was raised in a very liberal household that valued his strengths and ignored his weaknesses, leading to an inflated ego from a young age. They were not a wealthy family, as the only source of income came from his mother's steady job. His father was doing something different every year. One year he is an actor, another he is a painter, but no matter what he's doing it doesn't make money. Alex initially resented that part about his father, but in time he would be indoctrinated by his charismatic old man. Art wasn't meant to make profit, it was meant to entertain. Art was a way of life, not a job.
Alex would receive both Trigger Events simultaneously when he was fifteen and attended his father's very first art show. A culmination of his old man's entire life's works put on display for the public to see. Only it was not well received. It would be an understatement to say the high-class establishment that funded and hosted his event were displeased with his paintings' "child-like" qualities. A crowd gathered to mock and harass the Rowland family. The humiliation didn't stop with the art show, as drunk patrons awaited the Rowland family as they left that night and assaulted them in the street. They would've only attacked Alex's father, but young Alex was quick to succumb to his rage and jumped in. This resulted in the beating of a lifetime, putting him in the hospital alongside his father.
He didn't realize his powers for almost a month after the event, when he was mostly healed from the fight and out of the hospital. An angry Alex was quick to abuse this, destroying the building that catered to the dramatic art show that stained his father's reputation and almost killed the two of them. This put him on the PRT's radar and they approached his family the next day. They were willing to overlook his crime in order to form him into a true hero that could wield his powers wisely and safely. Alex saw this as an opportunity to become famous like his father could not. He accepted the proposal without haste, though his father demanded he wouldn't be taken to the Los Angeles department out of prejudice. The PRT granted their wish and instead sent Alex all the way to Chicago, Illinois. He has since become a Ward for the PRT, donning the alias of Chroma for his superhero acts.
Personality:
Some may be believe Alex to be a genuine and upstanding citizen with impeccable morals and a capacity for empathy. They would be gravely mistaken. Alex Rowland isn't just sly and conniving but incredibly full of himself. An egomaniac that uses justice as a means to parade his greatness. Life is like one big show to him and he's none other than the leading role. He finds himself to be a gift from God and behaves in an accordingly eccentric and extravagant way that often brings up questions of his sexuality. Despite caring for himself above all else he does have some morals, finding it easy to injure but difficult to kill. One can also say that he has decent self-control, but only when he puts on his mask. His arrogance puts off many people, but somehow it is overlooked whenever he dons his superhero costume.
Residence:
PRT Building
Parental status:
Both are alive and well living in San Francisco, California.
Costume:
A white full-body suit with white boots and gloves alongside a black masquerade mask to cover a large part of Alex's face, all the while his hair is slicked back. The costume has no inherent protection value.
Power:
Chromatic Overload - Alex has the power to change the colors of everything around him in the world. Likewise he can "create" his own "colors" that appear to be floating blobs of paint that can have diverse effects when they come into contact with a target. He can then fling these masses of color at his opponents as a means of combat. RED would burn, BLUE would drench, YELLOW would electrify, etc. The effects cannot be interchanged between colors as they are unique to their individual coloring. While most of his powers revolve around "adding" color, Alex also has the ability to "subtract" color which will turn the affected object or person invisible. The effects of Chromatic Overload's color-changing aspect can be negated by Trump powers or by exiting Alex's range, but the color that is created can only be removed by Alex or Trump powers, making their effects possibly permanent.
Power range:
100m general range. Colors can only be created and manipulated less than 1m away from his hands, afterwards it is entirely based on momentum and can no longer be controlled, only erased. Thrown colors cannot exit the 100m range unless they land on something, at which point they can. Colors can be changed at the full 100m range, same with removing colors. Changed colors that go beyond the 100m range will naturally revert to their natural colors without any intervention. Any object that has had its colors removed will also return to normal once it passes the 100m range.
Power safeguards:
Alex has complete immunity to his own powers. He cannot change his own colors, he cannot apply colors to himself, and he cannot take colors away from himself. This only applies to his body directly, as he can still use Chromatic Overload on his clothes and equipment just fine.
PRT ranking:
Blaster: 6
Striker: 3
Changer: 5
Stranger: 3
Weapons:
Alex carries no weapons. |
49,250 | 1,329 | 43 | 2,253 | 659 | Scourge
Bank Alley
A warm breeze blew past Scourge as he looked up and down the alley. All breezes were warm with him around after all. He nodded at Chroma's intel, glancing back at Spencer with an annoyed look. He hadn't planned on stripping, nor was there going to be a date to begin with if she took the 'even if you're a criminal you can leave now you're not the top of our priorities list' vibe that was clearly being given off. Then again maybe she was a rogue who wanted to help. Or, the worst possibility, a fan girl.
"Run! There are criminals nearby, and you will only get in the way." As he spoke, his flames peeled away from his mouth, making sure the heat didn't distort the words. He gave a quick look around and noticed the wall where Drho had escaped through, and jogged over to it. He sidled through it as the proportion were slightly off, his flames quelling so as to not damage the building.
Scourge didn't glance back and continued his pursuit of Drho, but upon reaching the other side of the last wall he found no van. "Shit. Van has left perimeter. Scarlett, report?" He spoke into his comms, his voice tense. She replied almost immediately with an all clear, and a inquiry about getting higher ground. Scourge confirmed the request, and started jogging out to the nearest actual street to look for the van, and saw it retreating into the distance eastward bound.
"Van spotted heading east on West Adam St." He said into his comms, before stopping and looking around. "Wait. Where is our backup?" He said, suddenly concerned.
"Back up will be arriving momentarily. Situation on south side of city delayed forces."
"That's way too convenient. Precog among enemy forces?" Scourge asked, directing the question towards Chroma.
Blackout
In a Fleeing Van
Serephina had started yelling at Blackout, and a stifled sigh was let out. It brought him back to the world of not reliving his trigger event, which was a relief. Regardless it was like being thrown out of burning hot water and into ice cold water. Or starting to drown after being dehydrated. She was being unpleasant was the point.
Before Blackout could tell her to be quite though Drho intervened. The man stepped into the van, and defended Blackout without being too rude. He had to smile, and he turned over to nod his thanks. Seth, who was just outside the van still, threw a small earpiece to Nightfall, and smiled warmly. "We'll be in touch." He said simply,before turning to follow Drho into the van.
"Blackout strip. That blue paint will fuck everyone up if you don't. Serephina. . . You can wait until no one's around if you care. Seth said, carefully stepping over Blackout before sitting down in his seat again. Blackout turned a deep red, and he hid his face as Greed closed the door of the van.
"Please look away," Blackout said quietly, not meeting anyone's eyes.
He slipped off his shirt. The first thing to catch anyone's eyes if they were looking was the circular scar on his chest, which was a deeper tone then the rest of his chest His fair skin made it very noticeable, showing an extreme contrast. It spiraled out from the center, and someone with medical experience would know the kind of wound he had suffered before his trigger event was lethal. Though he wasn't religious, it was hard not to believe the woman who saved him to be an angel. It wasn't as hard after she snapped.
Blackout closed his eyes in embarrassment as he threw his wig aside and slipped off his pants next, though that was a bit more of a struggle, as the van had started to move. He slid immediately and hit the back of the van with a small grunt. He turned himself around, and used the back of the van as a way to leverage his pants off. Thank god the paint hadn't seeped through the jeans. | Real name:
Vince Kiran
(He is publicly known to be a ward)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Though in clothed profile he may appear normal, below his collarbone are intricate black lines, almost like tattoos but with more depth. At his chest they make simple elegant curves, but turn into more primitive hard lines as they go over his arms and hands. They are warmer then his body temperature, and have small cracks within them. He is clearly Caucasian.
Hero/Villian name:
Scourge
Affiliation:
Ward member
Biography:
Vince had an average life for a child raised by parents who are in the top one percent, though his parents were strict. He had to focus on his studies almost exclusively, leading to a sort of scholarly isolation. It didn't jade Vince though, as it was the only life he knew, and he never noticed how other kids had parties in the afternoon while he instead had study sessions. Where other students would watch movies, he would instead read "Catcher in the Rye," and as such isolation became a fact of life. Even his parents ignored him, always expecting perfection, and though content to observe it in their son, not surprised.
All through elementary school, middle school, and currently most of high school he has had perfect grades. Never less then one hundred percent, and often more when possible. Brute force met all schoolwork head on, and Vince always won. Loneliness became so common that his parents finally started to worry when he was sixteen. They decided he needed to find something to strive for besides good grades, oblivious to the fact that it was their fault he had embraced such isolation. They payed the hefty fee required, and Vince got his powers artificially through Cauldron. He chose an unstable enough formula to be considered a case 53. At first the change was small enough to not matter, a small black indent on his chest, but as Vince used his power more, the indent became an intricate structure across his entire body.
At seventeen currently, Vince is a member of the Wards. He seems to be the odd one out though as he rarely signs up for extra patrols, and continues his scholarly pursuits. He is viewed as weird at school, and has expressed no interest, currently, in any gender, or material object besides grades. Currently he does, as his parent wished, strive for one thing: Justice. Despite the Powers being his parent's idea, they still view him as a monster currently, secretly resenting his less then pristine appearance.
Personality:
Vince is a very reserved individual, and his presence is easily forgotten in the midst of conversation. However he has no problem participating in dialogue, he doesn't go out of his way to contribute information. He is admittedly dull witted, and rarely makes jokes, or apprecietes them. He is a fan of one-liners though.
Residence:
Private residence in gated community.
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
Normally a grey hoodie, and sweats. When he is on a serious patrol he will take fireproof Tinker made gear.
Power:
Vince is a pyrokinetic, and is able to generate flames from his mouth, and from the black lines across his body. Unfortunately items touching him are not fire proof in the least. The hotter Vince gets, the more black lines spread across his body (They started forming from the chest.) He is only able to control fire within thirty meters of himself, and can only make the flame as hot as 180 Celsius, though he can generate this heat from seemingly nowhere. Vince also has a very deep understanding of how heat will spread throughout a 3D space (Given he has seen all parts to the space.) As such he can easily trap criminals without actually harming them. He can even suspend fire in mid air using his pyrokinesis. The hotter his external body temperature the more resilient he becomes. At his maximum heat he becomes completely bulletproof, though his eyesight does suffer, and his reaction time is dulled.
Power range:
Exponentially decreases in power strength at range.
Power safeguards:
Fireproof, and can survive longer without oxygen then most humans, also doesn't panic when he can't breathe.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 2
Blaster: 3
Striker: 6
Breaker: 6
Shaker: 6
Weapons:
None |
49,251 | 1,329 | 44 | 1,934 | 3 | Reinforcements car
"This is Chimera, what's the situation with a master-class cape? Perimeter establishment unit will be arriving in one minute." - Said the girl in a car through her com. She was dressed rather brightly, as usual. Short hair, huge weights in her ears and a heavy facial piercing. There was almost no difference between her day-to-day attire and cape costume. The precise difference was the cape itself - the extension of her scarf, that stayed on even when she was in a beast form. It was made of seven stripes of clothing, sewn together to form the rainbow. The only clothing that stayed on, rather embarrassingly. She wasn't a fan of shifting back in front of other people for obvious reasons. She wasn't really afraid to show her face, since her "battle form" was rather distinct, and regarded as "barely appropriate for a hero" by those tits at PRT.
The screaming siren of a car was rather getting on her nerves. Why wasn't it her shift? The van wouldn't have had the chance to run. It would have been a pile of scrap by now. Everything would've been resolved already. That mover... He would be trying to teleport those bastards out of her mouth by now, that's for damn sure. She also wasn't the best cape to handle a perimeter, she was a frontliner. She was designed to bash stuff in, not to calm the crowd. "If anything goes south, I am not sure I can minimize collateral. Crap..." - she thought.
The worst part was that she was running late. Which could mean two things: Either patrol unit will chase the van, and the perimeter around bank will be as pointless as a swimsuit in a desert, or they won't, and the van will be lost forever.
"Step it, mate! I could outrun this shitty thing without any cape voodoo!" - She shouted at the driver from back seat of a car. Nerves were getting to her, after all the training notion the upcoming fight was still a thrilling sensation, and not in a good way. | Real name:
Florence Harper. The fact that she is a cape is a common knowledge
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Human form.
Hero/Villain name:
Chimera
Affiliation:
Hero, Ward
Biography:
Up until the age of 16 Florence was an average highschool student. Then, one bad day she's got herself in a life or death situation and her "trigger" event happened.
She and her friends hung out in an old and abandoned building outside of town. Being fond of such places, they had quite a night, drinking and having themselves a little party, until they found out that the house wasn't really abandoned. How you ask? Well the owner got in. A pretty huge bloke. A villain of an unknown name, well they didn't ask, and he didn't really tell. His powers happened to be of regenerative kind. He could amass and control immensely big amounts of living tissue - muscles, bones, skin, etc. Man was outraged at some drunk teenagers in a middle of his house, a secret hideout apparently.
He quickly decided to leave no witness, and that was what killed him. Closest to him was Florence, and so he went for killing her. He haven't even had time to understand what a mistake he made.
In Florence's mind something switched at the exact moment he tried to attack. Had he decided to go for one of her friends - she might've had more of a traditional "trigger", never understanding her true nature, but he didn't. He went for Florence. Miss Harper lost control of her body, and some other entity took it. Entity was called "Experiment 11, mental program designed for pre-mature cape protection".
It revealed many things to her. First was - she was never born to begin with. Created by the one with a similar powers. Second - she was a part of experiment. An experiment to evaluate performance of a normal human as compared to a mental constructs of any nature designed specifically for a task. Her parents were not real, just dummies with fake memories, created by hand just like her.
Florence transformed into a hulking beast in a fraction of a second. Next thing she was holding an enemy for a brief moment with her big tiger-like jaws, and then she felt it. The sensation of assimilating other person. Devouring everything he was. His power, his mind, his body. It became hers, and he was no more. It was painful, incredibly painful in fact, but the pain was nothing compared to that cognitive sensation.
Right after that, Florence completely regained control over her body. Her friends were nowhere to be seen. She decided to go seek hero training and help, in order to find who it was that created her. Miss Harper decided to go by the handle "Chimera", and to not use her powers again.
Note: PRT know nothing neither of "Experiment 11" nor of her ability to snap powers of other capes. What they know is that she is capable of destroying living things, while taking their properties. That was what she described her powers to be. They also know of her reluctance to use such powers. There was only one experiment resolving around Chimera eating a waterbear, but even that caused some mental trauma.
Personality:
She is basically a highschool freak. Nice and friendly one, likes to hang out in abandoned buildings, was noted for talents in biology, likes to show off a lot, and pretty free-spirited overall.
Residence:
Lives at PRT.
Parental status:
Foster parents.
Costume:
Beast form
Power:
Ability to transform into a hulking beast, capable of devouring everything that is alive and assuming any of it's properties, be it powers, body capabilities or parts. Chimera lacks experience regarding her power to assimilate life, and does not want to get any. She can't be precise with it, needs a touch range, preferably with her teeth, and does it slowly, causing damage in process.
Experiment 11, however, is a pinnacle of what this power can do. On it's own, without any additional superpower, it has an ability to assimilate enemy in one piece at an incredible rate, or, if an enemy is to hefty, to do so with it's individual parts, including Corona Pollentia. Armor can pull some stops on it, but it has to be airtight, since E11 can expertly find a weak spot.
Power range:
Touch, self.
Power safeguards:
Incredible regenerative capabilities.
PRT ranking:
Brute: 8
Breaker: 8
Master: 3
Striker: 8
Mover: 1
Thinker: 1
Weapons:
None. |
49,252 | 1,329 | 45 | 2,223 | 11 | Getting Heated Finally
She took notice to the flames dancing around his face and parting from his mouth as her spoke the warning to her. She took a moment to think about what she was going to do. Spencer wasn't exactly a good girl' but for so long she wanted a taste of some kind of action it almost no longer mattered how she got it. Maybe today was her chance to change.
"In all honesty, I'd like to help," Spencer replied, nodding to Scourge.
Spencer partially doubted he heard her considering she seemed to annoy him quite a lot. She wasn't trying to, but her bubbly self seemed to come off as just that. Not to mention the loud roar of those flames flaring around him, but there still was a chance her heard her as he ran off to where she could see some kind of blue paint. She sent some calmness in strong waves his way. She let out a light sigh and followed him through the person shaped holes in the building. | Real name:
Spencer
(Not public knowledge Spencer is a cape)
Gender:
N/A
Appearance is sociably acceptable as female.
Appearance:
Dark waist length hair, bangs are chin length and lavender as are the end of their hair, green/emerald eyes, 6'1, left arm has a sleeve of tribal/vine/flower tattoos
Hero/Villian name:
Undecided
Affiliation:
Evil Rogue
Biography:
Spencer was born to an English/German mother and Arabic father, hence her tan skin and dark hair, in New York. Born an only child, the first few years were simple and sweet. Until, at age 6, her parents tried to have another child. Her mother carried her unborn sibling for 5 months before sadly the child didn't make it.
Her mother and father were wrecked afterwards and took out their misfortune on their first and only child. That's why her mental state went to shit. Now she suffers with a manic bipolar disorder and mild depression. Including the beatings she was not feed regularly so she had to go to stealing and as time went by she got good at it.
Age 10 to 14 they were bullied for her/their ripped dark cloths and low class. During those times she would try to stay in the background and hide. But she was always kind to those around her. Home for her was still rough and hiding the bruises and cuts became more difficult. She didn't think it could get worse. It did.
The Leviathan attack on New York killed both her parents as she looked on from inside an Endbringer vault. Ironically enough, despite the abuse, this triggered Spencer. Though she didn't display her power, she did start testing it. Her tests soon made her realize she could manipulate people's emotions.
As a refugee she was sent to Chicago to live in an orphanage while attending one of the worse off schools. Fortunately it was still better then the ghettos she lived in in New York.
As more time went on she realized she could give off bits and pieces of her emotions to those around as well as see the aura of their personality around them. The more she used her power in the person the easier it was.
After a long time of being frustrated with the normal necessities of life that she couldn't get at the orphanage she began plundering again. Money, clothes, drugs, you name it. She often uses her power to help avoid being caught.
Personality:
Spencer is always happy to hers and those around hers knowledge, though she is fairly short tempered because of her bipolar disorder. She is also very strange and not regular "there". She has fun manipulating people she has no liking for.
Residence:
Nomad. They move around.
Parental status:
Both deceased: Died in leviathan attack.
Costume:
Undecided by Spencer.
Power:
Can make people she knows the location of feel emotions. The better she's knows the person the easier the target. When transferring the emotion, depending on the level she gives, the same level of emotion she will lack (Example: she's depressed and transfers someone near her to be sad her depression will falter). She can see emotions in the form of hazy colors around others like an aura. Depending on the emotion the color changes.
Power range:
As far as needed, with the maximum distance being a mile. The more she know the person the easier the power is to use on them.
Power safeguards:
N/A
PRT ranking:
Stranger 3
shaker: 1
Thinker: 1
Master: 4
Weapons:
A knife. Always a knife. An Arabian styled dagger, the last thing she has from her father. |
49,253 | 1,329 | 46 | 97 | 637 | Face Pressed Against the Wall of the Moving Van. . . Awkwardly
Serephina did as Blackout asked and turned herself around to face the back wall of the van. Remembering her beloved cat, she opened her bag and found Odette asleep soundly at the bottom, her face halfway covered by the black towel the was always present. Cats amazed her; she was just in a battle and taken an extreme fall and was covered in paint of all things and her cat had been asleep this entire time. She reached into the bag and petted Odette's head to wake her up. She needed comfort and Odette was the only way for her to get that right now. When she felt Serephina's hand, her eyes opened and she let out a small squeak. That sound was the only thing that could make Serephina smile most of the time.
As she rested her head against the wall of the abruptly moving van, she sighed and suddenly felt guilty for yelling at Blackout. "I'm sorry I jumped all over you. I'm kind of pissed that I'm covered in paint and my hair is gonna be hell to brush later. You did better than I would have trying to execute this plan and Drho is right; we have a bag of money and that's what we came here for. So sorry about that." She closed her eyes and waited on Blackout's response as she stroked the head of her cat and tried to slow her breathing. She would most likely ask to use some of the money they had acquired to get herself some new clothes because that paint was NEVER coming off and even if it would, she was not going to bother. She wondered where they were going, even though she assumed they were returning to Blackout's warehouse. Were all these capes coming with them? She hoped she could catch some sleep soon. . . | Real name:
Serephina Mayhem
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Tall, skinny but with proportionate curves. Has many small scars from self harm and freckles in all the usual places. Has dark brown hair, green eyes and fair colored skin. Very strong boned and has a lot of force behind her body weight.
Is it public knowledge that your character is a cape?:
No
Hero/Villain name:
To be decided
Affiliation:
Rouge
Biography:
When she was first born, her mother took care of her for a couple months but then abandoned her with her boyfriend’s brother’s family where she was severely abused for 2 and a half years. She has never met her real father and plans to look for him whenever she can get to a bigger city where someone can help her. Her first trigger event was one specific day when her antagonizers came down into the basement where she was being held and proceeded to beat her with what was called a “morning star” for more than 2 hours.
Serephina's trigger event happened after her attackers left the basement. When the lights were shut off, she noticed that she could see perfectly in the pitch blackness and hear what her attackers were talking about upstairs no matter how far away from her they were. It didn't matter because they were all in the same house. Her being simply a year and a half old when it happened, she didn't know what she was capable of until she was taken into her grandparent's custody and accidentally stumbled on her super speed power when running away from a rattlesnake that was trying to strike her.
She discovered her hologram when she was a freshman in high school. Serephina had a bully that would corner her in the halls during passing period and try to harm her. One time, when she was being bullied, she closed her eyes and prepared to receive a punch in the stomach when she noticed that nothing had happened. She opened her eyes and there was what looked like a twin of herself holding the girl in a headlock. The hologram motioned for her to run and that's what she did. (It cannot speak.)
(Outside character knowledge:) I would also like to add some things about my hologram. it is my strongest power. When the hologram is protecting her, no one else but her, can see it. For instance, if someone tries to attack her and Serephina activates her hologram, it will simply look like the attack is hitting an unidentified force. It also has the ability to cover Serephina in a bubble like force field that blocks all sound frequencies from penetrating it. The hologram does not take damage. I want it to have one weakness but I have yet to decide what that is yet.
She was also never fed. After the horror was ended when her grandparents took her into their home, she from there on she had disassociation syndrome. This is a disease that affects your relationships with others. A person with this mental condition does not feel strong emotions towards very many people or things. When they get attached to someone however, they will never let go and will be very loyal. Everyone else however, they will be completely numb to and have no feelings of love or attachment. All through middle school and high school, she never fit in with anyone except a few of the social outcasts that made her feel like she could be herself. But when those friends moved away, she had nothing left in school so she dropped out her junior year.
Soon after dropping out, she left home. She packed her stuff in the middle of the night, left a note saying that she left and was never seen again by her grandparents. The police looked for for a year but then gave up when they found nothing. Her cat is the only thing she has that means the world to her and loves. She has trained her cat to follow her wherever she goes, come when she is called and obey certain commands.
Personality:
Quiet when you first meet her but if she lets you get close to her, she becomes more comfortable and outgoing with you. Very argumentative and questions everything everyone says. She does not take anyone's word for anything. Very helpful when she sees others struggling and she knows she can help but she will not befriend anyone she helps. Friends come to her. Not the other way around. Keeps to herself mostly of the time but is polite and mildly friendly if approached.
Residence:
Doesn't have a home. She makes camp wherever she finds a safe place to rest for the night. She would rather wander alone than be at her Grandparent’s house.
Parental status:
Orphan. Her mother is alive but she has nothing to do with her and she has never met her real dad.
Costume:
She wears thin sneakers most of the time as opposed to other kinds of shoes so she is not weighed down when she runs. When she knows she might have to climb something or trudge through something difficult, she switches over to a pair of hiking boots which she carries in her backpack. She wears a dark green hoodie zipped up and something similar to yoga pants. She has implanted another layer of cloth on top of the original to keep her warm in whatever cold weather she encounters.
Power:
As a result of her abuse as a child, her power revolves around protection and flight skills. If she is in a bad situation and wants to leave, she can become invisible for a short enough period of time for her to get herself a good distance away from the situation. The higher her sense of danger or adrenaline, the longer her invisibility can stay active. Anything she holds will also be invisible. She also has super speed and the ability to create a twin hologram to protect her when she cannot protect herself. Her speed is an 80% increase than her normal running speed. This hologram can pick things up and move them to places Serephina wants her to. It cannot however go through solid objects. Whatever the hologram sees, Serephina sees. She can control what the hologram does, or let it act on it’s own. It has a database of several offensive and defensive battle techniques and its only purpose is to keep Serephina alive. It cannot take damage except for it's one weakness (which someone will figure out eventually.) Lastly, she has heightened hearing and sight. Heightened sight meaning she can see in the dark and see farther away than most people can. Her hearing has a farther distance range and higher frequency range than most normal people.
Power range:
Her powers have no distance limit except her hologram. It will shut down if she is more than 150 feet away from it after it is created.
Power safeguards:
Her powers only activate when she is in danger, or when her adrenaline levels are very high.
PRT ranking:
Mover: 5
Thinker: 3
Master: 0
Stranger: 7
Weapons:
Small hunting knife
Misc:
She carries a backpack with her wherever she goes that contains things she has stolen and her changes of socks, shoes and other clothing items from her past home. Her cat also hides in this backpack when Serephina wants her to. |
49,254 | 1,329 | 47 | 732 | 8,842 | Exit Of The Stalker Van!
Drho shrugged and did as Blackout requested, turning away and wishing the van had some windows to stare out of. Probably he an embarrassing tattoo he didn't want them to see. At least the girl was smart enough to realize when she was in the wrong and to admit her mistake. "My name is Regus by the way, not Drho." he said quietly. The name had been an arbitrary decision to get his way into the bank and he didn't really want to be known by it. However in the following investigation the PRT would probably find his name and decide to call him that, which meant he was stuck with the name for the conceivable rest of his career. Which hopefully wouldn't be that long. Regus heard a small squeak and glanced over curiously. A cat?
That women had brought a cat with her on a bank robbery? And Blackout was the one without a plan? No one in their right mind would bring a pet on a robbery. Whatever, he didn't feel like criticizing anyone. Moving his thoughts from the van he considered the money he'd just made. With the kind of dough he had just made and his future earnings, he could probably spend a year at this, then bail out and make a decent living. Hell he could probably just live off the interest of his earnings. For the rest of the ride where ever they were going Regus would be silent, contemplating his future. What would hopefully be a very, very, rich future and one that didn't end up in jail. Or the birdcage. A small shudder ran through his frame at the thought of that. No, he'd be very sure to avoid that fate. | Real name:
Regus Exavius (Identity as villain, Unknown)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Typically wears dull gray or black clothes, comfortable sweatpants he can run in and basic sneakers. Also wears these under his costume.
Hero/Villian name:
Drho
Affiliation:
Evil
Biography:
Regus was born in Chicago, both his parents safe and sound. His mother was a smart women who wasn't keen on doing work. As a result she managed to latch onto a very wealthy business man who happened to be short on family. Regus was pampered to his heart's content in his childhood, just not by his parents. His father was always far too busy with, well business, and his mother was always out spending her husband's money on feeding her addictions and going to parties. Not that she told him, to his father's knowledge his mother was either caring for Regus or running errands. Not to say Regus wasn't happy, quite the opposite. Like his mother his free time was greatly enhanced by his father's money. The newest game system, nicest clothes, best food. You name it Regus had it. School was easy both ways for him, Regus's natural intelligence and influential father gave him good grades and better friends, both with little effort. Regus's life was a gilded road, perfect student, star of the swim team, likable. Life was good. Then it slowly became not.
Regus was pampered not stupid. He noticed that things stopped becoming quite so gilded. He didn't ride to school in a limo anymore. Christmas was no longer a showering of gifts, barely a light drizzle. Forced smiles and nervous glances the few times they had family dinners. When his parents thought he was asleep or didn't care there were furious shouting matches.They were in debt. Regus's grades began slipping as his classes got harder and his focus dropped. He'd seen enough TV to know what was going on. Divorce was all be inevitable. Or it would've been if his father hadn't died of a stroke. At least that's what the police concluded. Regus knew better of course. His mother knew people. All kinds of people. He'd seen her come home with the powder, at first he thought it was just another one of her drugs. Then he saw her slip it in the wine. Addicting his father too? It'd come together when his father convulsed, dying within minutes. Regus knew had happened. The mansion they lived in was sold off, everything in it. They rented a sleezy apartment and his mother continued her lifestyle, living off her husbands money, searching for someone else when she burnt through that.
She never got that far though. After she'd done an admirable job of burning through nearly all of her funds she'd gotten herself arrested. It was a life sentence for several compiled offences. Ranging from possession and intent to sell all the way to murder. Not his father's but for several others. Regus was surprised, he'd known his mother wasn't the best person and had killed his father, but he hadn't known she'd killed others. Not perhaps it shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. Regardless Regus was left in a lurch. He'd barely managed to graduate, didn't have any job skills, and was practically penniless. Regus ended up joining a gang, only half by choice. They'd been very insistent in recruiting him and leaving wasn't really an option for him. After going through his initiation he quickly found out you were either all in or all out. And once you were all in, you didn't get out. The crew had a couple of capes leading it. After several months of reluctantly committing crimes and doing as little as he could get away with.
Then one morning he woke up in a metal box. It barely fit him, his legs were curled up to his chest with hardly an inch of space to move in any given direction. Several hours of screaming until his voice grew hoarse bore no result. He clawed as best he could at the walls trapping him until his fingers bleed but it bore no result. Regus was in there for days. He never found out how long. Sometime in the haze of cramped limbs, gasping for air, and the headache ringing through his skull it got worse. A metal spike was driven through the metal box skewering his arm. And another one right next to it. Regus thought he couldn't scream anymore, he'd been wrong. When he woke up he found the metal box looked like it melted around him, in solidified lumps on the ground around him. The spike wasn't there anymore either. Regus shakily got to hands and knees, then looked around. There was a chair, with a half eaten sandwich on the ground to it. He was in some random alleyway. He crawled to the sandwich and devoured it. There was still a hole in his arm that had somehow managed to stop bleeding. Regus managed to get to his feet leaning against a wall for support. A wallet. There was a wallet on the chair. Regus snatched it and rifled through it, nearly a hundred bucks, enough to survive for a while. He managed to stagger his way into a cafe and get some more food, funny looks aside, it was Chicago, they'd seen worse.
He managed to find out that his gang had gotten taken down at one of the big meetings. The PRT had gone full force on them and no one had made it out. Still didn't explain what he'd been doing in a metal box with a hole through his arm. He used the reminder of the money on medical supplies as best he could to patch up his arm. Then he found out his power. He'd wearily leaned against a bench to rest, still drained from the experience and the bench bent beneath his weight like playdoh. Several experiments later he'd confirmed it. He had powers. Regus must've had a trigger event in that hellish box. Over the next few days Regus consumed his food supply and tested the extent of his powers. With no money, no one he knew, and nothing else to go on. Crime came naturally. When you could nearly literally walk through walls, stealing was easy. At first it was small things. Food, jewelry, but then he experimented more with power. Become used to it. He got easier and the prizes he took bigger and more valuable. Regus wasn't surviving anymore, he was living. Better off than any other seventeen year old he knew. Of course he didn't really know any so the point was moot.
Personality:
Regus is as you might expect, somewhat disillusioned with the world. People suck. However Regus isn't what he would call a bad person. He doesn't go out his way to make people's lives suck. His difficult life has given him an amazing amount of tenacity as well as a distrust of people. Regus is very confident in himself and his abilities but always tries to have a backup plan. Overall he gives off a lazy impression but this is more to deceive people than anything else.
A passing glance won't reveal his self-assurance in the way he carries himself, however when he is caped its quite clear. Still new to the villain business Regus is out for himself, not actively hurting anyone per say, just looking out for himself. Luckily he's managed to avoid any major confrontations with any capes or police force but he knows it won't last for long. He's prepared to do whatever it takes if that becomes the case. Though he hopes it won't come to that.
Residence:
Crummy Apartment
Parental status:
Father dead, Mother in jail.
Costume:
Long flowing black robes to conceal his identity and for use with his power. Also wears a demon face-mask
Power:
Regus can manipulate an object's density. The most frequent thing he does with this is makes things soft, like puddy, so he can push, squish, and reshape them. This allows him to go through conventional barriers with ease by softening them and tearing them apart. In addition he can use it to make things more stiff. For example he could make clothing have the rigidness of a brick, that is to say it doesn't move anymore it remains solid against any force that pushes against it.
This allows him to immobilize people rather easily by hardening their clothes. This effect wears off after around ten minutes or if Regus removes the effects. Regus can do something like puddy-ify a TV and squish into a ball then reform it, but he wouldn't be able to change the dimensions into say a bigger TV, or turn it into another piece of machinery, though this is more a lack of knowledge than ability. The same applies to other objects. Manton effect applies.
Power range:
1 meter around his body 2 meter through contact of modified objects. Constant throughout effected area.
Power safeguards:N/A
PRT ranking:
Changer: 8
Stranger: 2
Brute:6
Striker: 5
Weapons:
A bullwhip
Misc: |
49,255 | 1,329 | 48 | 2,253 | 659 | Blackout
Still In a Fleeing Van
Seth distracted everyone a little bit when he started giving commands to the driver through the com system, and Blackout was thankful for the distraction. He pulled his Kevlar vest out from under his shirt and slipped that on for a bit of decency. Just a bit though, he still had no pants. Regus said his name suddenly, and Blackout nodded his affirmation before realizing the gesture was useless. No one was looking at him, as he had requested and he smiled gratefully.
"My name's Ryan." He said suddenly, before standing up and resting his hand on the side of the van for balance.
"Nightfall, come in. We are headed towards 7545 S Claremont Ave. This connection will only be secure for the next ten minutes, so if you have any questions ask them now." Seth said, before switching the outgoing frequency of his earpiece. "Take next left, and take right out of alley." He told the driver, before switching the com channel again.
"I guess we're going to my place, so that's the good news. . . I think." Ryan said, glancing around the van. He had pretty much forgotten the state of his clothes (or lack thereof) at this point. He was admittedly very fit, his arms and legs very defined. Though they didn't know it yet, The Boss had been training Ryan for well over two months. He had a strict training regimen, and was probably the most fit of the five present, excluding Greed.
As they took a turn hard Seth nodded at Greed, and the gruff man disappeared. Though no one in the van knew, he had teleported into his home to spend time with his family. He hadn't touched the bag of money though, so he didn't seem too suspicious. They were also unaware that Seth's instructions were keeping them from being captured, though they would probably make the connection if they thought about it for long enough. The dollar bills that were laying on the floor of the van began to turn back to their normal green shade, much to everyone's relief. | Real name:
Vince Kiran
(He is publicly known to be a ward)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Though in clothed profile he may appear normal, below his collarbone are intricate black lines, almost like tattoos but with more depth. At his chest they make simple elegant curves, but turn into more primitive hard lines as they go over his arms and hands. They are warmer then his body temperature, and have small cracks within them. He is clearly Caucasian.
Hero/Villian name:
Scourge
Affiliation:
Ward member
Biography:
Vince had an average life for a child raised by parents who are in the top one percent, though his parents were strict. He had to focus on his studies almost exclusively, leading to a sort of scholarly isolation. It didn't jade Vince though, as it was the only life he knew, and he never noticed how other kids had parties in the afternoon while he instead had study sessions. Where other students would watch movies, he would instead read "Catcher in the Rye," and as such isolation became a fact of life. Even his parents ignored him, always expecting perfection, and though content to observe it in their son, not surprised.
All through elementary school, middle school, and currently most of high school he has had perfect grades. Never less then one hundred percent, and often more when possible. Brute force met all schoolwork head on, and Vince always won. Loneliness became so common that his parents finally started to worry when he was sixteen. They decided he needed to find something to strive for besides good grades, oblivious to the fact that it was their fault he had embraced such isolation. They payed the hefty fee required, and Vince got his powers artificially through Cauldron. He chose an unstable enough formula to be considered a case 53. At first the change was small enough to not matter, a small black indent on his chest, but as Vince used his power more, the indent became an intricate structure across his entire body.
At seventeen currently, Vince is a member of the Wards. He seems to be the odd one out though as he rarely signs up for extra patrols, and continues his scholarly pursuits. He is viewed as weird at school, and has expressed no interest, currently, in any gender, or material object besides grades. Currently he does, as his parent wished, strive for one thing: Justice. Despite the Powers being his parent's idea, they still view him as a monster currently, secretly resenting his less then pristine appearance.
Personality:
Vince is a very reserved individual, and his presence is easily forgotten in the midst of conversation. However he has no problem participating in dialogue, he doesn't go out of his way to contribute information. He is admittedly dull witted, and rarely makes jokes, or apprecietes them. He is a fan of one-liners though.
Residence:
Private residence in gated community.
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
Normally a grey hoodie, and sweats. When he is on a serious patrol he will take fireproof Tinker made gear.
Power:
Vince is a pyrokinetic, and is able to generate flames from his mouth, and from the black lines across his body. Unfortunately items touching him are not fire proof in the least. The hotter Vince gets, the more black lines spread across his body (They started forming from the chest.) He is only able to control fire within thirty meters of himself, and can only make the flame as hot as 180 Celsius, though he can generate this heat from seemingly nowhere. Vince also has a very deep understanding of how heat will spread throughout a 3D space (Given he has seen all parts to the space.) As such he can easily trap criminals without actually harming them. He can even suspend fire in mid air using his pyrokinesis. The hotter his external body temperature the more resilient he becomes. At his maximum heat he becomes completely bulletproof, though his eyesight does suffer, and his reaction time is dulled.
Power range:
Exponentially decreases in power strength at range.
Power safeguards:
Fireproof, and can survive longer without oxygen then most humans, also doesn't panic when he can't breathe.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 2
Blaster: 3
Striker: 6
Breaker: 6
Shaker: 6
Weapons:
None |
49,256 | 1,329 | 49 | 2,749 | 2,491 | Gael, Verens Estrada
Nodding as he was allowed leave, Gael turned and exited the alley, his abilities deflecting the attention of everyone nearby. Swiftly he navigated the area, locating the alley in which he had changed. Despite the smell he slipped the clothes back on, knowing he'd need to launder them later. He then quickly got into his car and drove off, quite aware of the safety precautions that the PRT were taking. He out maneuvered them, having drawn information from many minds on the layout of the area, as well as from his incredible memory. With some time in hand he slipped the earpiece that the Precog had given him in place. Useful, but troublesome if they could track his location with it.
He noted that his clothes didn't smell that bad, having only been left in their hiding place for 15 or so minutes, if that much. They had a grimy feel to them despite their being wrapped in something else, but it was considerably less serious than he thought it would have been. He made a note of that. He also made a note to carry something to eliminate the smell and shield the clothes the next time he needed to hide them. As his mind moved through multiple lines of consideration, branching out and elaborating on details and plans he was forced to shift a small amount of his focus to a new development the moment that the Precog contacted him.
He almost smiled, then reconsidered and kept his tone and facial expressions neutral. He began to utilize a psychic screen, drowning out intrusions with mental 'white noise.' The measure might confuse the Precog's ability in regards to him, though it was just as plausible that it wouldn't. Nonetheless, it was better to try and rule one possibility out than to not try at all--at least in these circumstances that was.
First he made a note of the address in his mind's eye, before zooming out to look at his mental picture of the city's layout. He focused in on the single street, recalled the area code, then narrowed the mental search down to a single area. He then ran through the addresses till he found the place. He would have raised an eyebrow, but the precog might sense that, so he didn't. "What's your angle..." he asked Seth, the question clearly aimed only at the Precog. He followed it up with something else, "...and what can I expect if I join the group? It's awfully risky, since they have a reputation now. I've done some research and having a reputation as a new villain is generally not a good thing."
While he didn't ask, he noted that due to the involvement of a Precog and the teleporter--not to mention the reactions they had given when they'd shown up--it was relatively clear that someone else was pulling the strings.
It was a dangerous and risky endeavor since the individual was an unknown variable. Gael didn't like unknown variables. He wondered what would happen if he decided not to join them, especially considering the fact that Seth had just revealed their base of operations. Then again, if they had someone backing them...perhaps finding a new place wasn't such a big deal.
All things to consider...and consider well. His focus branched off further, considering more possibilities. He'd need back up plans for sure. Running blind wasn't his thing and neither was not being prepared.
So he'd make damn sure that he was prepared--whatever came his way.
That brought a tiny grin to his lips. He wondered how things would play out from here. At the very least joining could be...interesting. He just didn't want to be trapped into doing so.
He didn't like having to follow the agenda of others.
So perhaps...perhaps he'd just have to change the dynamic. | Gael, Verens Estrada
Theme
His real name is unknown to the public.
Gender:
Male.
Appearance:
Of relatively average build for a teenage boy of 19, Gael stands at 5'6 and weighs roughly 175 lbs. When not out in the guise of Scour, Gael wears blue contacts. His eyes, as such, tend to take on a purple coloration due to the light pink and purple blending with the contacts. He carries around sunglasses as well and never wears the shirt with the 'eye emblem' on it.
Cape Alias:
Nightfall.
This name is one he's given himself. However, should the PRT name him something else he is unlikely to correct them. After all, this name alludes to the true nature of his ability, which is something that most are unlikely to fully grasp.
Affiliation:
Villain/Criminal.
Biography:
Growing up in a broken family, Gael quickly came to know the manipulative and unhealthy side of humanity. Even as a young child he watched his mother and father fight and bicker, sometimes striking one another. At first it was frightening, but as time went on he grew used to their dispositions and learned to deal with them. While some children might cower or run, Gael learned to manipulate his parents to get what he wanted and as he grew older this began to extend to others around him. However while he could manipulate his peers and his parents, school authorities served to be...less accepting of his behavior and so, one day in highschool and at the age of 16 his parents, James and Sarah received a call from one of their son's teachers.
All was well when his parents came to school to pick the boy up and bring him home, but upon leaving the building and arriving back home the two practically went ballistic on Gael, with his mother screaming at him and his father eventually growing so angry with his lack of response, punching him hard enough to knock him off his feet.
So unaccustomed to people retaliating to him was Gael that he hit a low point. He felt tears run down his face as he glared back up at his father, his head still reeling. The man glowered right back at him and, gritting his teeth, kicked Gael in the stomach. By now his mother began yelling at James, calling the punishment overboard, but Gael had long become deaf to them. A feeling of weakness and inexplicable anger built up in him till it rose to a peak and then suddenly it was as if everything went cold.
As his parents argued, the adolescent rose to his feet behind them, his face bruised and stomach aching from his father's blows. However, a small grin was on his face as he stared at his parents argue and then outright begin striking one another. Noticing his son's grin, James ceased the struggle with his wife and approached his son yelling at him, “Do you think this is funny!? You could have been expelled. After all your mom and I do for you, you pull some shit like this and then have the gall to grin at me like that!” His father raised his fist when Gael did not respond, but never went through with the strike as before he could it would seem as if all the color in the man's face would drain away at which point he crumpled down to his knees.
Afraid, Gael's mother went to the man, pleading with him to explain what was wrong. All the while Gael smirked down at them smugly. He wasn't sure how he had done it, but he knew it was his fault that his father had lost all his will to fight just then. The same happened to his mother as she looked up at him, tears in her eyes. Immediately a look of terror entered her eyes as she saw the eerie glow of her son's eyes and the strange lines of light that had spread from them. She tried to push herself away from him, which incited a small chuckle from Gael before he raised his hand, knowing what to do by instinct alone, and immediately his mother collapsed, unconscious.
- - - - -
In the days following the event, Gael's parents wouldn't even look at him, but due to the influence of his ability, had no will to contact anyone for help. Using this to his advantage he continued to highschool eventually graduating only a year later as he excelled far beyond his peers.
Applying with scholarship and financial aid to a rather prestigious college in Chicago, Gael convinced his largely subservient parents to move, and so they did. This puts us in the present time where merely using his abilities on “mundanes,” has grown boring to him.
As such he's begun going on outings, mainly at night, to stir up trouble in hope of attracting local do-gooders so he can break them too. He's not sure where he's going, but if it's anything like the last year or so, then it can only be more fun and to Gael that's really all that matters. Even if his idea of fun is...skewed.
Personality:
In short Gael is a manipulative, egocentric personality with narcissistic tendencies and a relatively small capacity for empathy. He uses people to achieve his ends, he's two faced and he lies more easily than he tells the truth. One might call him a social chameleon and they'd be right in saying as such, because it is often that he either blends in or instead chooses to use his charisma to create his own clique. Still, Gael is not all bad, as few are, and is rather a damaged boy with a lot of very bad habits and a closed heart.
Rather than face his flaws and insecurities he has long since locked them away, instead retaliating with a cold anger when questioned or confronted about how he treats people. He is stubborn, indignant and, well, arrogant not to mention he has a superiority complex. Overall he's what most would consider a toxic personality and really, they're right. Nonetheless, if perhaps he got some help for his issues he could improve. Until then he's only going to get worse and his rapidly growing intellect is going to make his decline into the darker end of the moral spectrum hell for everyone around him.
Residence:
Gael lives in his parent's house in the suburbs of Chicago.
Parental status:
While his Mother and Father are both alive, they are essentially puppets to him, set on a sort of autopilot which allows them to appear fairly normal to others.
Costume:
He tends to wear a black hoodie with a matching T-shirt beneath. On the shirt is a stylistic drawing of an eye. He wears black jeans and no mask. Instead his hoodie or his ability often obscures his identity. Gael carries his cellphone, which he's had jury rigged and set up with 20 lock screens unless he turns that setting off. He wears a pair of gloves so his fingerprints are never left behind. Additionally he carries a bottle of pepper spray.
Power:
Gael's ability focuses around an invisible aura, which he can utilize to siphon psychic energy, mentally draining humans and weakening the powers of parahumans before affecting their mind as well. This energy, once obtained, is assimilated by Gael by way of a secondary nervous system which stores and allocates his additional mental capacity. Personality traits are retained within psychic energy causing Gael's mind to be more of a hivemind than a normal human one. Aside from this is Gael's capacity to harness psychic energy he has gathered and focus it to attack the minds of others, penetrating their thoughts and weakening them. Conversely he might bolster or enhance communication with teammates should he use his power more constructively. Nonetheless, perhaps the most dangerous aspect of his ability is the result of prolonged exposure as over time one's suggestibility to Gael is increased while the capacity for conscious thought and decision making is decreased. While indeed a frightening prospect, this is something that would take days, weeks, or even months to achieve at best with the longest being years.
While the above details the majority of his ability's manifestation, Gael's perception was also effected by his trigger event, from that day on allowing him to see both his own aura and those of others. He can do this either with his eyes or by making contact with his aura. However doing so with just his aura will only notify him of an individual's mental state, whereas his eyes will tell him whether an individual is human or parahuman. A smoother aura is indicative of a more stable psyche whereas a rougher or scattered aura indicate an unstable or less stable one. Parahumans, in addition to possessing an aura texture also have colored auras while normal humans are perceived as gray scale. Brighter colors denote non-physical abilities, the brighter the color the more potent the ability while darker colors indicate more physical abilities. Neutral colors are somewhere in between the two or are abilities that cannot be clearly defined by either category. The color, aside from its brightness, seems to indicate the nature of the person more than it does the nature of their ability.
Notes: Gael's abilities can be subverted by the occasional Stranger-type ability. Being aware of his ability, its effect on you, or being averse to him in general makes you more resistant to his influence. Individuals with Thinker or Trump abilities are most resistant to him, with some Thinkers perhaps being entirely immune. However, power nullification does not work on him once you enter his field of influence—though it does make one more resistant to him. Gael is capable of siphoning psychic energy via direct physical contact, this method is the most efficient and as such drains people faster.
Power range:
Gael's ability, while possessing a relatively large area of effect, does not have a conventional range. Instead his area of influence, when unaltered, is a sphere with a 10 meter radius. Gael can redistribute the volume of these sphere thus altering its shape and allowing him to extend his range up to roughly 2.6 miles if he were to condense it into a single hyper-thin string.
Power safeguards:
While Gael's ability does not guard him against much it does make him largely immune to abilities that would seek to influence the mind. Additionally it gives him some measure of resistance to Trump abilities. Beyond this Gael's ability only makes him truly immune to two things, these being sensory overload and psychological breakdowns. This is largely due to the nature of his trigger event.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 7.
Master: 5.
Shaker: 4.
Striker: 4.
Trump: 3.
Weapons:
Gael carries a light, but durable baton that can extend and retract. Its minimum size is roughly 1.5 feet, while its max length when extended is 6 feet. The end of the baton has a sharp point and the baton will lock in place when opened unless pressure is applied on the handle. |
49,257 | 1,329 | 50 | 97 | 637 | Among Friends in the Back of a Van
Serephina wondered why everyone was suddenly correcting her when she didn't know any better. Mr Wall Guy had never said his real name so how was she supposed to know? She decided to follow suit and introduce herself as well. Turning her head just enough to see Regus out of the corner of her eye but not enough to see the naked Ryan, she said "My name's Serephina by the way. And my cat's name is Odette. In case you're wondering, she goes everywhere with me so if you dont see her at any time, she's either in my backpack or we have a problem." She looked into her backpack and found Odette not sleeping anymore. She was sitting upright and trying to see over the folds of the backpack but was not tall enough to quite manage that. She let out a squeak of frustration and stood up on her hind legs in a gesture for Serephina to pick her up.
Taking her out of the backpack and placing her on the floor of the van, Serephina wondered if she would have to sit with her face pressed against the wall of this van the entire time or if it would be okay for her to turn around eventually. Odette's tail thumped against the floor of the van and made a ringing echo with each time. Stroking Odette's head and closing her eyes, she waited out the ride. She wanted nothing more right now than sleep. | Real name:
Serephina Mayhem
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Tall, skinny but with proportionate curves. Has many small scars from self harm and freckles in all the usual places. Has dark brown hair, green eyes and fair colored skin. Very strong boned and has a lot of force behind her body weight.
Is it public knowledge that your character is a cape?:
No
Hero/Villain name:
To be decided
Affiliation:
Rouge
Biography:
When she was first born, her mother took care of her for a couple months but then abandoned her with her boyfriend’s brother’s family where she was severely abused for 2 and a half years. She has never met her real father and plans to look for him whenever she can get to a bigger city where someone can help her. Her first trigger event was one specific day when her antagonizers came down into the basement where she was being held and proceeded to beat her with what was called a “morning star” for more than 2 hours.
Serephina's trigger event happened after her attackers left the basement. When the lights were shut off, she noticed that she could see perfectly in the pitch blackness and hear what her attackers were talking about upstairs no matter how far away from her they were. It didn't matter because they were all in the same house. Her being simply a year and a half old when it happened, she didn't know what she was capable of until she was taken into her grandparent's custody and accidentally stumbled on her super speed power when running away from a rattlesnake that was trying to strike her.
She discovered her hologram when she was a freshman in high school. Serephina had a bully that would corner her in the halls during passing period and try to harm her. One time, when she was being bullied, she closed her eyes and prepared to receive a punch in the stomach when she noticed that nothing had happened. She opened her eyes and there was what looked like a twin of herself holding the girl in a headlock. The hologram motioned for her to run and that's what she did. (It cannot speak.)
(Outside character knowledge:) I would also like to add some things about my hologram. it is my strongest power. When the hologram is protecting her, no one else but her, can see it. For instance, if someone tries to attack her and Serephina activates her hologram, it will simply look like the attack is hitting an unidentified force. It also has the ability to cover Serephina in a bubble like force field that blocks all sound frequencies from penetrating it. The hologram does not take damage. I want it to have one weakness but I have yet to decide what that is yet.
She was also never fed. After the horror was ended when her grandparents took her into their home, she from there on she had disassociation syndrome. This is a disease that affects your relationships with others. A person with this mental condition does not feel strong emotions towards very many people or things. When they get attached to someone however, they will never let go and will be very loyal. Everyone else however, they will be completely numb to and have no feelings of love or attachment. All through middle school and high school, she never fit in with anyone except a few of the social outcasts that made her feel like she could be herself. But when those friends moved away, she had nothing left in school so she dropped out her junior year.
Soon after dropping out, she left home. She packed her stuff in the middle of the night, left a note saying that she left and was never seen again by her grandparents. The police looked for for a year but then gave up when they found nothing. Her cat is the only thing she has that means the world to her and loves. She has trained her cat to follow her wherever she goes, come when she is called and obey certain commands.
Personality:
Quiet when you first meet her but if she lets you get close to her, she becomes more comfortable and outgoing with you. Very argumentative and questions everything everyone says. She does not take anyone's word for anything. Very helpful when she sees others struggling and she knows she can help but she will not befriend anyone she helps. Friends come to her. Not the other way around. Keeps to herself mostly of the time but is polite and mildly friendly if approached.
Residence:
Doesn't have a home. She makes camp wherever she finds a safe place to rest for the night. She would rather wander alone than be at her Grandparent’s house.
Parental status:
Orphan. Her mother is alive but she has nothing to do with her and she has never met her real dad.
Costume:
She wears thin sneakers most of the time as opposed to other kinds of shoes so she is not weighed down when she runs. When she knows she might have to climb something or trudge through something difficult, she switches over to a pair of hiking boots which she carries in her backpack. She wears a dark green hoodie zipped up and something similar to yoga pants. She has implanted another layer of cloth on top of the original to keep her warm in whatever cold weather she encounters.
Power:
As a result of her abuse as a child, her power revolves around protection and flight skills. If she is in a bad situation and wants to leave, she can become invisible for a short enough period of time for her to get herself a good distance away from the situation. The higher her sense of danger or adrenaline, the longer her invisibility can stay active. Anything she holds will also be invisible. She also has super speed and the ability to create a twin hologram to protect her when she cannot protect herself. Her speed is an 80% increase than her normal running speed. This hologram can pick things up and move them to places Serephina wants her to. It cannot however go through solid objects. Whatever the hologram sees, Serephina sees. She can control what the hologram does, or let it act on it’s own. It has a database of several offensive and defensive battle techniques and its only purpose is to keep Serephina alive. It cannot take damage except for it's one weakness (which someone will figure out eventually.) Lastly, she has heightened hearing and sight. Heightened sight meaning she can see in the dark and see farther away than most people can. Her hearing has a farther distance range and higher frequency range than most normal people.
Power range:
Her powers have no distance limit except her hologram. It will shut down if she is more than 150 feet away from it after it is created.
Power safeguards:
Her powers only activate when she is in danger, or when her adrenaline levels are very high.
PRT ranking:
Mover: 5
Thinker: 3
Master: 0
Stranger: 7
Weapons:
Small hunting knife
Misc:
She carries a backpack with her wherever she goes that contains things she has stolen and her changes of socks, shoes and other clothing items from her past home. Her cat also hides in this backpack when Serephina wants her to. |
49,258 | 1,329 | 51 | 1,105 | 2,351 | Where the van isn't
As Chroma sprinted at full speed, running in the direction the van had gone, it turned out that Scourge had taken a shortcut and already confirmed the van was leaving the area. He cursed to himself but didn't relent, sheer determination and rage pushing Chroma forward. The way he saw it meant that if they got away then he would've been robbed of a great opportunity. He almost captured three capes in one go, single-handed no less. But a twist of fate has resulted in that prestige being stripped from him. He wasn't happy about that.
"That's way too convenient. Precog among enemy forces?"
Just as he asked the question into the comms, Chroma arrived right next to Scourge himself. He had taken the long way there but he was at full sprint. In fact he didn't even stop next to his fellow Ward, instead continuing his sprint past in the direction that his comrade had previously called out. It was a vain attempt but Chroma was a vain person. Didn't stop him from answering though, granted it was over the comms considering he already ran past Scourge. "Maybe. If they had a precog when I got there then they would've escaped before I trapped them all. That would have to bump up the count to six targets if one joined. Seems to me like they had a second team to support the first, judging by the Master and the Mover. Wouldn't surprise me if they had a precog." Chroma had to slow down briefly to relay that information, but the moment he took his hand back off the earpiece he went back into full sprint.
He was able to see the van ahead in the distance once he returned his attention forward. There was a sparse few people on the sidewalk and they were all quick to get out of the way of the angry Ward that was running eastward. It was times like this when Chroma wished that he had superhuman strength and speed because despite his best efforts here he saw the van turn left into another alleyway in the distance. It would take him way too long to get to that alley to even determine where it would go from there. He knew that yet he kept running forward. When he finally reached the alley that it had disappeared into his rage reached a boiling point. There was nothing there. It was a through alley that stretched for several blocks and had multiple roads intersecting as well as various buildings with garages. "Lost visual on the targets. No traces. No idea where they went." Despite keeping his voice down it was easy to detect his anger. And if one couldn't hear it in his voice they'd hear it when he ripped the earpiece from his ear and tossed it at the concrete ground with full force while it was still on. The teenage cape leaned against the nearby brick wall and slid down until he was seated, panting in exhaustion and suppressed rage. "Damnit." | Real name:
Alex Rowland
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Hero/Villian name:
Chroma
Affiliation:
Good, Ward
Biography:
A young American teenager born and raised in San Francisco. His father was an artist of varying fields and his mother was an impressionable accountant. Alex was raised in a very liberal household that valued his strengths and ignored his weaknesses, leading to an inflated ego from a young age. They were not a wealthy family, as the only source of income came from his mother's steady job. His father was doing something different every year. One year he is an actor, another he is a painter, but no matter what he's doing it doesn't make money. Alex initially resented that part about his father, but in time he would be indoctrinated by his charismatic old man. Art wasn't meant to make profit, it was meant to entertain. Art was a way of life, not a job.
Alex would receive both Trigger Events simultaneously when he was fifteen and attended his father's very first art show. A culmination of his old man's entire life's works put on display for the public to see. Only it was not well received. It would be an understatement to say the high-class establishment that funded and hosted his event were displeased with his paintings' "child-like" qualities. A crowd gathered to mock and harass the Rowland family. The humiliation didn't stop with the art show, as drunk patrons awaited the Rowland family as they left that night and assaulted them in the street. They would've only attacked Alex's father, but young Alex was quick to succumb to his rage and jumped in. This resulted in the beating of a lifetime, putting him in the hospital alongside his father.
He didn't realize his powers for almost a month after the event, when he was mostly healed from the fight and out of the hospital. An angry Alex was quick to abuse this, destroying the building that catered to the dramatic art show that stained his father's reputation and almost killed the two of them. This put him on the PRT's radar and they approached his family the next day. They were willing to overlook his crime in order to form him into a true hero that could wield his powers wisely and safely. Alex saw this as an opportunity to become famous like his father could not. He accepted the proposal without haste, though his father demanded he wouldn't be taken to the Los Angeles department out of prejudice. The PRT granted their wish and instead sent Alex all the way to Chicago, Illinois. He has since become a Ward for the PRT, donning the alias of Chroma for his superhero acts.
Personality:
Some may be believe Alex to be a genuine and upstanding citizen with impeccable morals and a capacity for empathy. They would be gravely mistaken. Alex Rowland isn't just sly and conniving but incredibly full of himself. An egomaniac that uses justice as a means to parade his greatness. Life is like one big show to him and he's none other than the leading role. He finds himself to be a gift from God and behaves in an accordingly eccentric and extravagant way that often brings up questions of his sexuality. Despite caring for himself above all else he does have some morals, finding it easy to injure but difficult to kill. One can also say that he has decent self-control, but only when he puts on his mask. His arrogance puts off many people, but somehow it is overlooked whenever he dons his superhero costume.
Residence:
PRT Building
Parental status:
Both are alive and well living in San Francisco, California.
Costume:
A white full-body suit with white boots and gloves alongside a black masquerade mask to cover a large part of Alex's face, all the while his hair is slicked back. The costume has no inherent protection value.
Power:
Chromatic Overload - Alex has the power to change the colors of everything around him in the world. Likewise he can "create" his own "colors" that appear to be floating blobs of paint that can have diverse effects when they come into contact with a target. He can then fling these masses of color at his opponents as a means of combat. RED would burn, BLUE would drench, YELLOW would electrify, etc. The effects cannot be interchanged between colors as they are unique to their individual coloring. While most of his powers revolve around "adding" color, Alex also has the ability to "subtract" color which will turn the affected object or person invisible. The effects of Chromatic Overload's color-changing aspect can be negated by Trump powers or by exiting Alex's range, but the color that is created can only be removed by Alex or Trump powers, making their effects possibly permanent.
Power range:
100m general range. Colors can only be created and manipulated less than 1m away from his hands, afterwards it is entirely based on momentum and can no longer be controlled, only erased. Thrown colors cannot exit the 100m range unless they land on something, at which point they can. Colors can be changed at the full 100m range, same with removing colors. Changed colors that go beyond the 100m range will naturally revert to their natural colors without any intervention. Any object that has had its colors removed will also return to normal once it passes the 100m range.
Power safeguards:
Alex has complete immunity to his own powers. He cannot change his own colors, he cannot apply colors to himself, and he cannot take colors away from himself. This only applies to his body directly, as he can still use Chromatic Overload on his clothes and equipment just fine.
PRT ranking:
Blaster: 6
Striker: 3
Changer: 5
Stranger: 3
Weapons:
Alex carries no weapons. |
49,259 | 1,329 | 52 | 2,253 | 659 | Scourge
Bank Alley
Scourge barely registered Spencer's response, but he had heard her. Chroma replied to his question, and Scourge watched him attempt to catch up to the van in vain. He had obviously wanted this victory pretty badly, and that was justified. This didn't happen in Chicago. Villains didn't get away, the bad guys never won at all, even a little bit. Even with their Protectorate constantly at other cities, Wards like Scourge, Chroma, Scarlet, even Chimera led to flawless victories, but now. Even The Alchemist was a big "Fuck you" to anyone even attempting anything. Her very name was a crime deterrent, though these days she was doing only high level shit.
The bad guys had gotten away, and were probably not very worse for wear. Drho, as the unconscious bank teller would later report the name of to PRT officials, had robbed two banks in less then a week. Blackout had narrowly escaped capture a number of times, but now he had a team. Then there were the new villains, the stranger and master. They were both pretty new it seemed, and didn't fit the MO's of mercenaries currently active and known about in the United States. Despite this, they wouldn't be given names until it was proven they weren't known villains. Security footage had definitely captured the stranger's face, if Chroma's Tinkerfab hadn't. If she had true invisibility, though. . . God help us all.
Then there was Greed. He was an absolute monster, not being bound by the Manton Effect and all. He was a well known mercenary that had been working around the country for years. His power seemed to be short range teleportation at first glance, but at forty he was well known enough that they knew more about his power then that. His work against Endbringers had netted the PRT the information that he could only teleport so much. The farther he teleported, the larger toll it would take on his body, and enough consecutive teleportation would render him unconscious. Greed didn't seem to be bound by the Manton Effect either, though teleporting his hand into somebody else's leg wasn't a good idea. Upon teleporting again, he would be devoid of the part of his body that he had teleported into the other person, or sometimes he would just teleport the person with him. Regardless he lost what he teleported inside of others.
Finally the precog. Though he may or may not exist, his hypothetical existence would explain a lot in the way of Blackout's victories. Though a report of a precog that may or may not be present would probably just be seen as an excuse from the Ward's superiors. The question still remained though: How had all of the Protecterates been busy when the situation had started up till now?
"Chimera, I can help you secure the perimeter, and interview everybody that needs to be." Scourge said, glancing down the street in the direction Chroma had come from. He could see the signature PRT vehicles pulling up, and even thought he saw Chimera climb out of a car as she arrived.
Scourge sighed a bit as he glanced back at Spencer, his face a stern mask. His emotions were a conflicted mess right now, none stronger then the other in any particular sense. He was disappointing, apprehensive, annoyed, and tired. "Are you a parahuman?" Scourge asked, getting straight to the point as the flames peeled away from his head and shoulders. His hair was completely devoid of fire, as was the rest of the area above his shoulders, though his torso and legs were still engulfed with heavy flames.
His glasses showed the time as 4:26 PM now, and he knew he had to get home sooner rather then later to keep his mom from getting worried. He didn't let his impatience show though, as he knew he had to be nice to her.
Blackout and Seth
In a Fleeing Van
"My angle?" Seth had to pause a bit at that, not expecting Nightfall to ask such a personal question. It was really pointless too, as knowing wouldn't make the situation they were in any better. Then again, pleasantries came before business. He paused for a bit too long, and the driver grumbled a bit on the alternate channel. Nightfall asked a second question right as the driver was ending what he was saying, and Seth smiled a bit at the convenience. He had naturally started the conversation at a moment where everyone would be talking out of unison. It wasn't just a third sense; It was an extension of his will most of the time.
"If you want to know why you should join, you have no reason to ask me. I can see the future, but I could just lie to you every step of the way. You have no reason to trust me. The boss on the other hand, you can talk to him and find out why you should join. You're obviously at least a bit interested, or you wouldn't have helped to begin with." Seth replied, ignoring Nightfall's first question. He changed outgoing channels again and said to the driver this time, "Right followed by a left on intersection after next. We'll be in the clear, and drop off the recruits. After that we're heading to HQ."
As Seth spoke Ryan looked about the van again, and let out a small sigh. He had been half listening to Seth's words, and half not. Ryan enjoyed the feeling of knowing everyone's name though, so he had to smile a bit at that. He would finally be a part of a team, and he would have people to play games against. With a small voice that grew a bit louder as he spoke, he asked, "Does anyone have a jacket, or. . . Something warm I can put on?" The words left his mouth just as a small clink sounded on the roof. The noise was joined by many duplicates as heavy raindrops started hitting the roof, the sound filling their ears. | Real name:
Vince Kiran
(He is publicly known to be a ward)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Though in clothed profile he may appear normal, below his collarbone are intricate black lines, almost like tattoos but with more depth. At his chest they make simple elegant curves, but turn into more primitive hard lines as they go over his arms and hands. They are warmer then his body temperature, and have small cracks within them. He is clearly Caucasian.
Hero/Villian name:
Scourge
Affiliation:
Ward member
Biography:
Vince had an average life for a child raised by parents who are in the top one percent, though his parents were strict. He had to focus on his studies almost exclusively, leading to a sort of scholarly isolation. It didn't jade Vince though, as it was the only life he knew, and he never noticed how other kids had parties in the afternoon while he instead had study sessions. Where other students would watch movies, he would instead read "Catcher in the Rye," and as such isolation became a fact of life. Even his parents ignored him, always expecting perfection, and though content to observe it in their son, not surprised.
All through elementary school, middle school, and currently most of high school he has had perfect grades. Never less then one hundred percent, and often more when possible. Brute force met all schoolwork head on, and Vince always won. Loneliness became so common that his parents finally started to worry when he was sixteen. They decided he needed to find something to strive for besides good grades, oblivious to the fact that it was their fault he had embraced such isolation. They payed the hefty fee required, and Vince got his powers artificially through Cauldron. He chose an unstable enough formula to be considered a case 53. At first the change was small enough to not matter, a small black indent on his chest, but as Vince used his power more, the indent became an intricate structure across his entire body.
At seventeen currently, Vince is a member of the Wards. He seems to be the odd one out though as he rarely signs up for extra patrols, and continues his scholarly pursuits. He is viewed as weird at school, and has expressed no interest, currently, in any gender, or material object besides grades. Currently he does, as his parent wished, strive for one thing: Justice. Despite the Powers being his parent's idea, they still view him as a monster currently, secretly resenting his less then pristine appearance.
Personality:
Vince is a very reserved individual, and his presence is easily forgotten in the midst of conversation. However he has no problem participating in dialogue, he doesn't go out of his way to contribute information. He is admittedly dull witted, and rarely makes jokes, or apprecietes them. He is a fan of one-liners though.
Residence:
Private residence in gated community.
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
Normally a grey hoodie, and sweats. When he is on a serious patrol he will take fireproof Tinker made gear.
Power:
Vince is a pyrokinetic, and is able to generate flames from his mouth, and from the black lines across his body. Unfortunately items touching him are not fire proof in the least. The hotter Vince gets, the more black lines spread across his body (They started forming from the chest.) He is only able to control fire within thirty meters of himself, and can only make the flame as hot as 180 Celsius, though he can generate this heat from seemingly nowhere. Vince also has a very deep understanding of how heat will spread throughout a 3D space (Given he has seen all parts to the space.) As such he can easily trap criminals without actually harming them. He can even suspend fire in mid air using his pyrokinesis. The hotter his external body temperature the more resilient he becomes. At his maximum heat he becomes completely bulletproof, though his eyesight does suffer, and his reaction time is dulled.
Power range:
Exponentially decreases in power strength at range.
Power safeguards:
Fireproof, and can survive longer without oxygen then most humans, also doesn't panic when he can't breathe.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 2
Blaster: 3
Striker: 6
Breaker: 6
Shaker: 6
Weapons:
None |
49,260 | 1,329 | 53 | 2,223 | 11 | She felt the presence of another ward before she saw a parahuman aura run past her full sprint. "Well someone's in a hurry," Spencer thought as she finally came to a stop beside the annoyed Scourge. Speaking of, the girl never got his real name. Hopefully she'd get it soon. Spencer watched the Ward known as Chroma run through the crowd not stopping a moment, something she doubted she could do in all honesty.
Spencer acknowledged Scourge's annoyance and took a step back away from his flaming body, but she watched him. Okay, she mainly watched the flames dance around his body. Flames then began to peel from his head and went down his shoulders.
"Are you a parahuman?"
Straight to the point then; She expected nothing less from his aura when they first met. Right now his aura was multiple dark grays and dark blue even a hint of baby powder blue was in there. Man this guy was interestingly dull. One day I'll get this man to smile genuinely. He needs it.
"No, but I'm your biggest fan- Yea I'm a parahuman" Spencer said the last part in boredom while the first sentence was excitedly over exaggeration. Another joke coming to play without her intending to.
"Are you annoyed with me?" She asked with mock sadness. | Real name:
Spencer
(Not public knowledge Spencer is a cape)
Gender:
N/A
Appearance is sociably acceptable as female.
Appearance:
Dark waist length hair, bangs are chin length and lavender as are the end of their hair, green/emerald eyes, 6'1, left arm has a sleeve of tribal/vine/flower tattoos
Hero/Villian name:
Undecided
Affiliation:
Evil Rogue
Biography:
Spencer was born to an English/German mother and Arabic father, hence her tan skin and dark hair, in New York. Born an only child, the first few years were simple and sweet. Until, at age 6, her parents tried to have another child. Her mother carried her unborn sibling for 5 months before sadly the child didn't make it.
Her mother and father were wrecked afterwards and took out their misfortune on their first and only child. That's why her mental state went to shit. Now she suffers with a manic bipolar disorder and mild depression. Including the beatings she was not feed regularly so she had to go to stealing and as time went by she got good at it.
Age 10 to 14 they were bullied for her/their ripped dark cloths and low class. During those times she would try to stay in the background and hide. But she was always kind to those around her. Home for her was still rough and hiding the bruises and cuts became more difficult. She didn't think it could get worse. It did.
The Leviathan attack on New York killed both her parents as she looked on from inside an Endbringer vault. Ironically enough, despite the abuse, this triggered Spencer. Though she didn't display her power, she did start testing it. Her tests soon made her realize she could manipulate people's emotions.
As a refugee she was sent to Chicago to live in an orphanage while attending one of the worse off schools. Fortunately it was still better then the ghettos she lived in in New York.
As more time went on she realized she could give off bits and pieces of her emotions to those around as well as see the aura of their personality around them. The more she used her power in the person the easier it was.
After a long time of being frustrated with the normal necessities of life that she couldn't get at the orphanage she began plundering again. Money, clothes, drugs, you name it. She often uses her power to help avoid being caught.
Personality:
Spencer is always happy to hers and those around hers knowledge, though she is fairly short tempered because of her bipolar disorder. She is also very strange and not regular "there". She has fun manipulating people she has no liking for.
Residence:
Nomad. They move around.
Parental status:
Both deceased: Died in leviathan attack.
Costume:
Undecided by Spencer.
Power:
Can make people she knows the location of feel emotions. The better she's knows the person the easier the target. When transferring the emotion, depending on the level she gives, the same level of emotion she will lack (Example: she's depressed and transfers someone near her to be sad her depression will falter). She can see emotions in the form of hazy colors around others like an aura. Depending on the emotion the color changes.
Power range:
As far as needed, with the maximum distance being a mile. The more she know the person the easier the power is to use on them.
Power safeguards:
N/A
PRT ranking:
Stranger 3
shaker: 1
Thinker: 1
Master: 4
Weapons:
A knife. Always a knife. An Arabian styled dagger, the last thing she has from her father. |
49,261 | 1,329 | 54 | 732 | 8,842 | Exit Of The Stalker Van Part II!
Regus shrugged his shoulders at Serephina's explanation of the cat. Still a piss-poor reason to carry a pet around on something like this but it was a reason and Regus didn't feel like attempting to correct her lifestyle right now. He silently listened to Seth as he alternated between explaining something to a person on his comms and giving direction to the driver. Apparently they were being dropped off. Regus turned his head slightly at the twin sounds of Blackout's- no, it was Ryan's - voice and the rain tinking against the roof. Embarassed that he hadn't thought of it himself Regus shucked off his black hoodie and the sweats, "Yeah, here you go." He said simply as he tossed the black clothing to Ryan, revealing the red t-shirt and blue jeans he'd walked into the bank with. Had he put those on only this morning? It felt strange to be wearing his normal clothes again. Like he was suddenly another normal person, going about his day. Like he hadn't just robbed a bank successfully, again. Regus took off his mask as well, carefully placing it in a pocket. He wondered where they were being dropped off. It didn't really matter, he doubted it could be much worse than that seedy apartment. | Real name:
Regus Exavius (Identity as villain, Unknown)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Typically wears dull gray or black clothes, comfortable sweatpants he can run in and basic sneakers. Also wears these under his costume.
Hero/Villian name:
Drho
Affiliation:
Evil
Biography:
Regus was born in Chicago, both his parents safe and sound. His mother was a smart women who wasn't keen on doing work. As a result she managed to latch onto a very wealthy business man who happened to be short on family. Regus was pampered to his heart's content in his childhood, just not by his parents. His father was always far too busy with, well business, and his mother was always out spending her husband's money on feeding her addictions and going to parties. Not that she told him, to his father's knowledge his mother was either caring for Regus or running errands. Not to say Regus wasn't happy, quite the opposite. Like his mother his free time was greatly enhanced by his father's money. The newest game system, nicest clothes, best food. You name it Regus had it. School was easy both ways for him, Regus's natural intelligence and influential father gave him good grades and better friends, both with little effort. Regus's life was a gilded road, perfect student, star of the swim team, likable. Life was good. Then it slowly became not.
Regus was pampered not stupid. He noticed that things stopped becoming quite so gilded. He didn't ride to school in a limo anymore. Christmas was no longer a showering of gifts, barely a light drizzle. Forced smiles and nervous glances the few times they had family dinners. When his parents thought he was asleep or didn't care there were furious shouting matches.They were in debt. Regus's grades began slipping as his classes got harder and his focus dropped. He'd seen enough TV to know what was going on. Divorce was all be inevitable. Or it would've been if his father hadn't died of a stroke. At least that's what the police concluded. Regus knew better of course. His mother knew people. All kinds of people. He'd seen her come home with the powder, at first he thought it was just another one of her drugs. Then he saw her slip it in the wine. Addicting his father too? It'd come together when his father convulsed, dying within minutes. Regus knew had happened. The mansion they lived in was sold off, everything in it. They rented a sleezy apartment and his mother continued her lifestyle, living off her husbands money, searching for someone else when she burnt through that.
She never got that far though. After she'd done an admirable job of burning through nearly all of her funds she'd gotten herself arrested. It was a life sentence for several compiled offences. Ranging from possession and intent to sell all the way to murder. Not his father's but for several others. Regus was surprised, he'd known his mother wasn't the best person and had killed his father, but he hadn't known she'd killed others. Not perhaps it shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. Regardless Regus was left in a lurch. He'd barely managed to graduate, didn't have any job skills, and was practically penniless. Regus ended up joining a gang, only half by choice. They'd been very insistent in recruiting him and leaving wasn't really an option for him. After going through his initiation he quickly found out you were either all in or all out. And once you were all in, you didn't get out. The crew had a couple of capes leading it. After several months of reluctantly committing crimes and doing as little as he could get away with.
Then one morning he woke up in a metal box. It barely fit him, his legs were curled up to his chest with hardly an inch of space to move in any given direction. Several hours of screaming until his voice grew hoarse bore no result. He clawed as best he could at the walls trapping him until his fingers bleed but it bore no result. Regus was in there for days. He never found out how long. Sometime in the haze of cramped limbs, gasping for air, and the headache ringing through his skull it got worse. A metal spike was driven through the metal box skewering his arm. And another one right next to it. Regus thought he couldn't scream anymore, he'd been wrong. When he woke up he found the metal box looked like it melted around him, in solidified lumps on the ground around him. The spike wasn't there anymore either. Regus shakily got to hands and knees, then looked around. There was a chair, with a half eaten sandwich on the ground to it. He was in some random alleyway. He crawled to the sandwich and devoured it. There was still a hole in his arm that had somehow managed to stop bleeding. Regus managed to get to his feet leaning against a wall for support. A wallet. There was a wallet on the chair. Regus snatched it and rifled through it, nearly a hundred bucks, enough to survive for a while. He managed to stagger his way into a cafe and get some more food, funny looks aside, it was Chicago, they'd seen worse.
He managed to find out that his gang had gotten taken down at one of the big meetings. The PRT had gone full force on them and no one had made it out. Still didn't explain what he'd been doing in a metal box with a hole through his arm. He used the reminder of the money on medical supplies as best he could to patch up his arm. Then he found out his power. He'd wearily leaned against a bench to rest, still drained from the experience and the bench bent beneath his weight like playdoh. Several experiments later he'd confirmed it. He had powers. Regus must've had a trigger event in that hellish box. Over the next few days Regus consumed his food supply and tested the extent of his powers. With no money, no one he knew, and nothing else to go on. Crime came naturally. When you could nearly literally walk through walls, stealing was easy. At first it was small things. Food, jewelry, but then he experimented more with power. Become used to it. He got easier and the prizes he took bigger and more valuable. Regus wasn't surviving anymore, he was living. Better off than any other seventeen year old he knew. Of course he didn't really know any so the point was moot.
Personality:
Regus is as you might expect, somewhat disillusioned with the world. People suck. However Regus isn't what he would call a bad person. He doesn't go out his way to make people's lives suck. His difficult life has given him an amazing amount of tenacity as well as a distrust of people. Regus is very confident in himself and his abilities but always tries to have a backup plan. Overall he gives off a lazy impression but this is more to deceive people than anything else.
A passing glance won't reveal his self-assurance in the way he carries himself, however when he is caped its quite clear. Still new to the villain business Regus is out for himself, not actively hurting anyone per say, just looking out for himself. Luckily he's managed to avoid any major confrontations with any capes or police force but he knows it won't last for long. He's prepared to do whatever it takes if that becomes the case. Though he hopes it won't come to that.
Residence:
Crummy Apartment
Parental status:
Father dead, Mother in jail.
Costume:
Long flowing black robes to conceal his identity and for use with his power. Also wears a demon face-mask
Power:
Regus can manipulate an object's density. The most frequent thing he does with this is makes things soft, like puddy, so he can push, squish, and reshape them. This allows him to go through conventional barriers with ease by softening them and tearing them apart. In addition he can use it to make things more stiff. For example he could make clothing have the rigidness of a brick, that is to say it doesn't move anymore it remains solid against any force that pushes against it.
This allows him to immobilize people rather easily by hardening their clothes. This effect wears off after around ten minutes or if Regus removes the effects. Regus can do something like puddy-ify a TV and squish into a ball then reform it, but he wouldn't be able to change the dimensions into say a bigger TV, or turn it into another piece of machinery, though this is more a lack of knowledge than ability. The same applies to other objects. Manton effect applies.
Power range:
1 meter around his body 2 meter through contact of modified objects. Constant throughout effected area.
Power safeguards:N/A
PRT ranking:
Changer: 8
Stranger: 2
Brute:6
Striker: 5
Weapons:
A bullwhip
Misc: |
49,262 | 1,329 | 55 | 2,749 | 2,491 | Gael, Verens Estrada"My angle?" The man said, followed by a lengthy pause. In response, Gael's eyes narrowed and things began clicking into place.
his mind shifted focus, Seth's noted lack of response to his initial question was one he found quite telling. He had locked several of his tendrils of influence onto the precog and while he wasn't drilling into his mind or applying noticeable pressure, he was watching very closely for responses. From what he could tell, the Precog didn't even realize just how much he had given away by not answering him outright.
After all, sometimes it was what people didn't say which clued one in on what was important.
One of those details amused Gael, as it appeared that this Seth character was hardly as smart as his ability might have one believe as a sharper person would have deduced a good deal from the nature of the question itself. Yet, it appeared Seth had not done so at all, instead he proceeded to, well, not truly answer his second question either. At this Gael rolled his eyes, deciding he'd meet up with the group anyways. The Precog was right on one account, he was at least slightly interested. However, it was more that he'd have a better chance in a group than he would alone...at least at first.
Of course, this Seth had given him some other useful data as well. There was in fact someone pulling the strings. Perhaps being allowed to speak with this Boss could assuage some of his concerns, not to mention allow him a better grasp of the group dynamic thus affording him more context to work within. After all information was power and the more he knew, the better he could slither his way into the hearts and, more importantly, minds of those around them, applying a choke hold on their will and subjugating them in the end.
"Very well, Seth, I'll meet everyone at the address you gave. Hopefully your employer won't mind if I decline this invitation should it seem too...well, unsafe." his voice level and calm, though possessing the tiniest of suspicion, Gael responded to Seth, then set his GPS to the location, mostly to put up airs rather than because he actually needed it to find the place. The less people understood about his abilities, the better.
As he made his way for their hideout, he began looking over what he knew about his potential "team". He also decided not to say he'd join during this first meeting. He'd use this encounter to gather data first and once he had some time to think it over, provided nothing changed his mind during, he would give his response.
It was a nice feeling to have a plan. | Gael, Verens Estrada
Theme
His real name is unknown to the public.
Gender:
Male.
Appearance:
Of relatively average build for a teenage boy of 19, Gael stands at 5'6 and weighs roughly 175 lbs. When not out in the guise of Scour, Gael wears blue contacts. His eyes, as such, tend to take on a purple coloration due to the light pink and purple blending with the contacts. He carries around sunglasses as well and never wears the shirt with the 'eye emblem' on it.
Cape Alias:
Nightfall.
This name is one he's given himself. However, should the PRT name him something else he is unlikely to correct them. After all, this name alludes to the true nature of his ability, which is something that most are unlikely to fully grasp.
Affiliation:
Villain/Criminal.
Biography:
Growing up in a broken family, Gael quickly came to know the manipulative and unhealthy side of humanity. Even as a young child he watched his mother and father fight and bicker, sometimes striking one another. At first it was frightening, but as time went on he grew used to their dispositions and learned to deal with them. While some children might cower or run, Gael learned to manipulate his parents to get what he wanted and as he grew older this began to extend to others around him. However while he could manipulate his peers and his parents, school authorities served to be...less accepting of his behavior and so, one day in highschool and at the age of 16 his parents, James and Sarah received a call from one of their son's teachers.
All was well when his parents came to school to pick the boy up and bring him home, but upon leaving the building and arriving back home the two practically went ballistic on Gael, with his mother screaming at him and his father eventually growing so angry with his lack of response, punching him hard enough to knock him off his feet.
So unaccustomed to people retaliating to him was Gael that he hit a low point. He felt tears run down his face as he glared back up at his father, his head still reeling. The man glowered right back at him and, gritting his teeth, kicked Gael in the stomach. By now his mother began yelling at James, calling the punishment overboard, but Gael had long become deaf to them. A feeling of weakness and inexplicable anger built up in him till it rose to a peak and then suddenly it was as if everything went cold.
As his parents argued, the adolescent rose to his feet behind them, his face bruised and stomach aching from his father's blows. However, a small grin was on his face as he stared at his parents argue and then outright begin striking one another. Noticing his son's grin, James ceased the struggle with his wife and approached his son yelling at him, “Do you think this is funny!? You could have been expelled. After all your mom and I do for you, you pull some shit like this and then have the gall to grin at me like that!” His father raised his fist when Gael did not respond, but never went through with the strike as before he could it would seem as if all the color in the man's face would drain away at which point he crumpled down to his knees.
Afraid, Gael's mother went to the man, pleading with him to explain what was wrong. All the while Gael smirked down at them smugly. He wasn't sure how he had done it, but he knew it was his fault that his father had lost all his will to fight just then. The same happened to his mother as she looked up at him, tears in her eyes. Immediately a look of terror entered her eyes as she saw the eerie glow of her son's eyes and the strange lines of light that had spread from them. She tried to push herself away from him, which incited a small chuckle from Gael before he raised his hand, knowing what to do by instinct alone, and immediately his mother collapsed, unconscious.
- - - - -
In the days following the event, Gael's parents wouldn't even look at him, but due to the influence of his ability, had no will to contact anyone for help. Using this to his advantage he continued to highschool eventually graduating only a year later as he excelled far beyond his peers.
Applying with scholarship and financial aid to a rather prestigious college in Chicago, Gael convinced his largely subservient parents to move, and so they did. This puts us in the present time where merely using his abilities on “mundanes,” has grown boring to him.
As such he's begun going on outings, mainly at night, to stir up trouble in hope of attracting local do-gooders so he can break them too. He's not sure where he's going, but if it's anything like the last year or so, then it can only be more fun and to Gael that's really all that matters. Even if his idea of fun is...skewed.
Personality:
In short Gael is a manipulative, egocentric personality with narcissistic tendencies and a relatively small capacity for empathy. He uses people to achieve his ends, he's two faced and he lies more easily than he tells the truth. One might call him a social chameleon and they'd be right in saying as such, because it is often that he either blends in or instead chooses to use his charisma to create his own clique. Still, Gael is not all bad, as few are, and is rather a damaged boy with a lot of very bad habits and a closed heart.
Rather than face his flaws and insecurities he has long since locked them away, instead retaliating with a cold anger when questioned or confronted about how he treats people. He is stubborn, indignant and, well, arrogant not to mention he has a superiority complex. Overall he's what most would consider a toxic personality and really, they're right. Nonetheless, if perhaps he got some help for his issues he could improve. Until then he's only going to get worse and his rapidly growing intellect is going to make his decline into the darker end of the moral spectrum hell for everyone around him.
Residence:
Gael lives in his parent's house in the suburbs of Chicago.
Parental status:
While his Mother and Father are both alive, they are essentially puppets to him, set on a sort of autopilot which allows them to appear fairly normal to others.
Costume:
He tends to wear a black hoodie with a matching T-shirt beneath. On the shirt is a stylistic drawing of an eye. He wears black jeans and no mask. Instead his hoodie or his ability often obscures his identity. Gael carries his cellphone, which he's had jury rigged and set up with 20 lock screens unless he turns that setting off. He wears a pair of gloves so his fingerprints are never left behind. Additionally he carries a bottle of pepper spray.
Power:
Gael's ability focuses around an invisible aura, which he can utilize to siphon psychic energy, mentally draining humans and weakening the powers of parahumans before affecting their mind as well. This energy, once obtained, is assimilated by Gael by way of a secondary nervous system which stores and allocates his additional mental capacity. Personality traits are retained within psychic energy causing Gael's mind to be more of a hivemind than a normal human one. Aside from this is Gael's capacity to harness psychic energy he has gathered and focus it to attack the minds of others, penetrating their thoughts and weakening them. Conversely he might bolster or enhance communication with teammates should he use his power more constructively. Nonetheless, perhaps the most dangerous aspect of his ability is the result of prolonged exposure as over time one's suggestibility to Gael is increased while the capacity for conscious thought and decision making is decreased. While indeed a frightening prospect, this is something that would take days, weeks, or even months to achieve at best with the longest being years.
While the above details the majority of his ability's manifestation, Gael's perception was also effected by his trigger event, from that day on allowing him to see both his own aura and those of others. He can do this either with his eyes or by making contact with his aura. However doing so with just his aura will only notify him of an individual's mental state, whereas his eyes will tell him whether an individual is human or parahuman. A smoother aura is indicative of a more stable psyche whereas a rougher or scattered aura indicate an unstable or less stable one. Parahumans, in addition to possessing an aura texture also have colored auras while normal humans are perceived as gray scale. Brighter colors denote non-physical abilities, the brighter the color the more potent the ability while darker colors indicate more physical abilities. Neutral colors are somewhere in between the two or are abilities that cannot be clearly defined by either category. The color, aside from its brightness, seems to indicate the nature of the person more than it does the nature of their ability.
Notes: Gael's abilities can be subverted by the occasional Stranger-type ability. Being aware of his ability, its effect on you, or being averse to him in general makes you more resistant to his influence. Individuals with Thinker or Trump abilities are most resistant to him, with some Thinkers perhaps being entirely immune. However, power nullification does not work on him once you enter his field of influence—though it does make one more resistant to him. Gael is capable of siphoning psychic energy via direct physical contact, this method is the most efficient and as such drains people faster.
Power range:
Gael's ability, while possessing a relatively large area of effect, does not have a conventional range. Instead his area of influence, when unaltered, is a sphere with a 10 meter radius. Gael can redistribute the volume of these sphere thus altering its shape and allowing him to extend his range up to roughly 2.6 miles if he were to condense it into a single hyper-thin string.
Power safeguards:
While Gael's ability does not guard him against much it does make him largely immune to abilities that would seek to influence the mind. Additionally it gives him some measure of resistance to Trump abilities. Beyond this Gael's ability only makes him truly immune to two things, these being sensory overload and psychological breakdowns. This is largely due to the nature of his trigger event.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 7.
Master: 5.
Shaker: 4.
Striker: 4.
Trump: 3.
Weapons:
Gael carries a light, but durable baton that can extend and retract. Its minimum size is roughly 1.5 feet, while its max length when extended is 6 feet. The end of the baton has a sharp point and the baton will lock in place when opened unless pressure is applied on the handle. |
49,263 | 1,329 | 56 | 1,934 | 3 | At banks entrance
Chimera waved the driver as she left the car, going fast towards the bank. She saw the Scourge with some girl near the entrance. Chroma was out of sight.
"Chimera, I can help you secure the perimeter, and interview everybody that needs to be."
As she approached she spoke loudly: "First, is the chase possible? Second, did they left anything in the bank? Third, who is that girl? Fourth, give me a full report, especially about that master bloke. Fifth, we'll make the decision of who goes after them and who does the perimeter buisness as we go along... Also, the last one - 'sup Scourge! Nice to see you." - Saying the last senctence she smiled gleefully.
The faster she could get the grasp over situation the better. Out of the whole bunch Chimera was the fastest, that much she could say for sure, especially if that girl has some usefull power, the chase was still an option. They have a handicap of about three to five minutes, which wasn't that bad.
Even if the chase is possible, they should still leave somebody to establish the perimeter. Enemy certanly left clues on the scene, and losing what little they had would make the situation for PRT even more terrible. | Real name:
Florence Harper. The fact that she is a cape is a common knowledge
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Human form.
Hero/Villain name:
Chimera
Affiliation:
Hero, Ward
Biography:
Up until the age of 16 Florence was an average highschool student. Then, one bad day she's got herself in a life or death situation and her "trigger" event happened.
She and her friends hung out in an old and abandoned building outside of town. Being fond of such places, they had quite a night, drinking and having themselves a little party, until they found out that the house wasn't really abandoned. How you ask? Well the owner got in. A pretty huge bloke. A villain of an unknown name, well they didn't ask, and he didn't really tell. His powers happened to be of regenerative kind. He could amass and control immensely big amounts of living tissue - muscles, bones, skin, etc. Man was outraged at some drunk teenagers in a middle of his house, a secret hideout apparently.
He quickly decided to leave no witness, and that was what killed him. Closest to him was Florence, and so he went for killing her. He haven't even had time to understand what a mistake he made.
In Florence's mind something switched at the exact moment he tried to attack. Had he decided to go for one of her friends - she might've had more of a traditional "trigger", never understanding her true nature, but he didn't. He went for Florence. Miss Harper lost control of her body, and some other entity took it. Entity was called "Experiment 11, mental program designed for pre-mature cape protection".
It revealed many things to her. First was - she was never born to begin with. Created by the one with a similar powers. Second - she was a part of experiment. An experiment to evaluate performance of a normal human as compared to a mental constructs of any nature designed specifically for a task. Her parents were not real, just dummies with fake memories, created by hand just like her.
Florence transformed into a hulking beast in a fraction of a second. Next thing she was holding an enemy for a brief moment with her big tiger-like jaws, and then she felt it. The sensation of assimilating other person. Devouring everything he was. His power, his mind, his body. It became hers, and he was no more. It was painful, incredibly painful in fact, but the pain was nothing compared to that cognitive sensation.
Right after that, Florence completely regained control over her body. Her friends were nowhere to be seen. She decided to go seek hero training and help, in order to find who it was that created her. Miss Harper decided to go by the handle "Chimera", and to not use her powers again.
Note: PRT know nothing neither of "Experiment 11" nor of her ability to snap powers of other capes. What they know is that she is capable of destroying living things, while taking their properties. That was what she described her powers to be. They also know of her reluctance to use such powers. There was only one experiment resolving around Chimera eating a waterbear, but even that caused some mental trauma.
Personality:
She is basically a highschool freak. Nice and friendly one, likes to hang out in abandoned buildings, was noted for talents in biology, likes to show off a lot, and pretty free-spirited overall.
Residence:
Lives at PRT.
Parental status:
Foster parents.
Costume:
Beast form
Power:
Ability to transform into a hulking beast, capable of devouring everything that is alive and assuming any of it's properties, be it powers, body capabilities or parts. Chimera lacks experience regarding her power to assimilate life, and does not want to get any. She can't be precise with it, needs a touch range, preferably with her teeth, and does it slowly, causing damage in process.
Experiment 11, however, is a pinnacle of what this power can do. On it's own, without any additional superpower, it has an ability to assimilate enemy in one piece at an incredible rate, or, if an enemy is to hefty, to do so with it's individual parts, including Corona Pollentia. Armor can pull some stops on it, but it has to be airtight, since E11 can expertly find a weak spot.
Power range:
Touch, self.
Power safeguards:
Incredible regenerative capabilities.
PRT ranking:
Brute: 8
Breaker: 8
Master: 3
Striker: 8
Mover: 1
Thinker: 1
Weapons:
None. |
49,264 | 1,329 | 57 | 2,253 | 659 | Ryan, Regus, and Serephina
The Headquarters
The clothes that Regus had given to Ryan fit him pretty well, surprisingly enough. He slipped them on quickly, barely able to hear over the sound of rain impacting the roof. A couple minutes later they arrived, the van stopping. "Serephina we've arrived. If you want to change in the van, we'll leave and you can do so. Otherwise Ryan and Regus will carry you in, to avoid you falling because of that blue paint." Seth said in a matter of fact tone, before unmuting himself for the driver, and saying, "We're gonna wait about five minutes."
As Seth talked Ryan stepped out of the van and looked around. The base was right behind an abandoned convenience store, a road going around it's parking lot, and opening up behind it. It had concrete walls, the outside not very revealing on any level about what was inside on any floor. On the second and third floor 2x4's covered the windows, and on the inside of the third floor specifically thermal padding covered each window. Around the building was a hard packed dirt surface that would turn to mud with the oncoming torrent of water, but it was stable for now. A high chain link fence lined the perimeter, at a distance of about sixty feet from the headquarters itself.
Trees and thick bushes that were just growing back their foliage lined the area just outside the chain link fence, offering quite a bit of privacy from prying eyes. Just past the trees and chain link fence on the west side of the compound was the parking lot of the convenience store, and at the south-west corner was the road that led into the compound. This was the only entrance a vehicle could take, and blocked the line of sight of anyone entering the compound, while allowing anyone inside to see the vehicle quite easy.
Someone who was particularly observant would notice Tinkertech cameras placed at key points around the perimeter, though their minuscule rectangular shape were very hard to notice. They measured just larger then a pencil, and were camouflaged depending on their placement. A small bit of programming caused them to recognize objects that weren't normally on the premises and track it until it went out of sight.
A small bit of wind whipped at Ryan, and caused him to shiver a bit, before glancing back at Regus and Serephina. "This is my house. It's warmer then it looks, trust me." He said, gesturing to the concrete building. "We should get out of the rain sooner rather then later," He added after a bit of thought, glancing at the ground cautiously.
Regus examined the area curiously. So this was to be their base of operations? Well it was rather imposing for sure and it was unlikely for a random passerby to stumble onto it. It was kind of . . . Drab though, more like a prison than anything else. Regus stepped out of the van, lugging the bag full of money that had thankfully returned to its original hue, a little surprised at the chilling gust that quickly raised goosebumps on his arms. "I agree, lets go. Serephina?" Regus asked, turning to face the girl. Personally he didn't really want to carry her in because the blue paint that covered her would undoubtedly slop onto his clothes as well, but he wouldn't protest it.
Seth climbed out of the van and reached up to talk to activate his earpiece, and talk to Nightfall. "Once you reach the address go to the top floor of the building. Once you are present, or forty minutes have passed, the meeting will begin. I won't be present." His voice cracked part way through, but he seemed to be ignoring it.
"I think I'll take a couple minutes to change. This paint is really getting to me. I'll meet you guys inside." As Regus and Ryan walked away, she closed the doors to the van and dumped her backpack out on the floor making sure that there was no dripped paint her clothes would fall in. In her bag she found a pair of black sweatpants, a grey t-shirt with a rather large hole in the rib cage and dozens of pairs of socks. She always carried enough socks with her to sink a battleship and right now, she was damn grateful for it. As she took off her dripping pants, she realized the skin on her legs was very swollen from her fall. She was disappointed at her knife. She thought for sure it would do the job but it was just lame like that she guessed. That was her only weapon and now she had nothing; maybe she would ask Ryan for a weapon of his she could use until she found, stole, or made something else. She got the rest of her paint soaked clothes off and her dry clothes on and hopped out of the van and made her way in the direction Regus and Ryan had gone. She called for Odette as she walked and heard her small squeak as she padded up behind her.
Seth leaned against the van as Serephina changed, and after she left he again entered the van. "This signal is no longer secure. Godspeed" He said both to the driver and Nightfall. After he finished speaking, the driver turned the van around and left the premises.
The sound of their steps was loud on the concrete, as Ryan and Regus walked towards the first staircase. "It's stable. It hasn't collapsed yet, even when the movers carried the couch up it." He said when he noticed Regus eyeing them, and even was polite enough to climb the stairs first. He led the way through the dank building, though it grew warmer as they progressed further. Ryan glanced around the second floor, and was still disappointed. There was nothing on this floor, excluding the crumbling concrete that was found on the second and first floor exclusively. The first floor was pretty torn up, no full walls anywhere, and supports that were very weathered. The second floor's supports were less weathered, but it still had no full walls. The general layout before this weathering took place would be very hard to imagine, as it was very torn up.
Ryan approached the stairs to the third floor with a bit of caution, but climbed them all the same. He lifted the trap door till it swung itself open, it's wooden frame creaking loudly. He took a couple steps into the base and gestured to Regus once inside. "it's a pretty sweet setup, I'd say. What do you think?"
Regus tossed the bag to the ground and looked around. The first two floors had been as dismal as the outside of the building but the third one was alright. A little better than his apartment, though that wasn't saying much. Speaking of which Regus would have to cancel his rent at some point, he could wait a couple of days though. TV, couch, looked like some bedrooms in the back. It was pretty cool actually. "Yeah its nice." Regus tossed the bag of money to the ground and took a quick walk around the room. Nice. He sat on the couch and leaned back looking at Ryan, "So what now? We just chill until Boss man gives us something?"
Serephina hustled through the headquarters and bounded up the stairs gracefully after Regus and Ryan. Glancing behind her to make sure Odette had followed, she stood behind Regus and looked into the door. She eyed the couch longingly. She was in desperate need of a nap and she hoped she would be able to take one soon. If not, she would surely fall on her face. "You're lucky to have this kind of set up. I wish I could have something like this. Running around and sleeping under bridges all the time can be a pain in the ass after a while. You start to get sick of it." She snapped her fingers and made a high pitched kissing sound with her mouth to command Odette to jump into her amrs. She stood petting Odette and waited for someone's response.
"Yup. We wait for the boss man now." Ryan said while walking over to the fridge and pulling out a soft drink. Serephina entered again, and her words made him smile. "Trust me, I know the feeling. That was a silly thing for you to say though." He paused a bit to let his words sink in. "This is your guy's home too now, if you want to stay." Ryan smiled and held his arms out in a welcoming gesture.
"Don't say no just yet though. I know the idea of millions of dollars, and a home are quite a bad deal," He giggled a bit at his sarcasm, and sat down on the couch. "Now who wants to lose at Devil Survivor Nine?" The screen showed a character select screen, and resembled your average fighting game. The characters, however, were famous superheroes. Characters such as Alexandria, Legend, even Hero were present. Oddly
Regus grinned; who knew Ryan who such a cool guy. "Home sweet home then. Since you're volunteering for the loser position I guess I'll have to take you up on that." Regus said confidentially as he snatched a controller from the table and booted up the TV. Regus hadn't played since high school, but he'd played the Devil Survivor's games since he was ten before that, so he had a bit of experience. In fact eight was the most recent one he'd played before life happened, but he was confident that his skills would carry over.
Regus and Ryan walk into the building with the money and start playing video games. Serephina changes and follows them in. Seth leaves the premises after alerting Nightfall of the plan. | Real name:
Vince Kiran
(He is publicly known to be a ward)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Though in clothed profile he may appear normal, below his collarbone are intricate black lines, almost like tattoos but with more depth. At his chest they make simple elegant curves, but turn into more primitive hard lines as they go over his arms and hands. They are warmer then his body temperature, and have small cracks within them. He is clearly Caucasian.
Hero/Villian name:
Scourge
Affiliation:
Ward member
Biography:
Vince had an average life for a child raised by parents who are in the top one percent, though his parents were strict. He had to focus on his studies almost exclusively, leading to a sort of scholarly isolation. It didn't jade Vince though, as it was the only life he knew, and he never noticed how other kids had parties in the afternoon while he instead had study sessions. Where other students would watch movies, he would instead read "Catcher in the Rye," and as such isolation became a fact of life. Even his parents ignored him, always expecting perfection, and though content to observe it in their son, not surprised.
All through elementary school, middle school, and currently most of high school he has had perfect grades. Never less then one hundred percent, and often more when possible. Brute force met all schoolwork head on, and Vince always won. Loneliness became so common that his parents finally started to worry when he was sixteen. They decided he needed to find something to strive for besides good grades, oblivious to the fact that it was their fault he had embraced such isolation. They payed the hefty fee required, and Vince got his powers artificially through Cauldron. He chose an unstable enough formula to be considered a case 53. At first the change was small enough to not matter, a small black indent on his chest, but as Vince used his power more, the indent became an intricate structure across his entire body.
At seventeen currently, Vince is a member of the Wards. He seems to be the odd one out though as he rarely signs up for extra patrols, and continues his scholarly pursuits. He is viewed as weird at school, and has expressed no interest, currently, in any gender, or material object besides grades. Currently he does, as his parent wished, strive for one thing: Justice. Despite the Powers being his parent's idea, they still view him as a monster currently, secretly resenting his less then pristine appearance.
Personality:
Vince is a very reserved individual, and his presence is easily forgotten in the midst of conversation. However he has no problem participating in dialogue, he doesn't go out of his way to contribute information. He is admittedly dull witted, and rarely makes jokes, or apprecietes them. He is a fan of one-liners though.
Residence:
Private residence in gated community.
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
Normally a grey hoodie, and sweats. When he is on a serious patrol he will take fireproof Tinker made gear.
Power:
Vince is a pyrokinetic, and is able to generate flames from his mouth, and from the black lines across his body. Unfortunately items touching him are not fire proof in the least. The hotter Vince gets, the more black lines spread across his body (They started forming from the chest.) He is only able to control fire within thirty meters of himself, and can only make the flame as hot as 180 Celsius, though he can generate this heat from seemingly nowhere. Vince also has a very deep understanding of how heat will spread throughout a 3D space (Given he has seen all parts to the space.) As such he can easily trap criminals without actually harming them. He can even suspend fire in mid air using his pyrokinesis. The hotter his external body temperature the more resilient he becomes. At his maximum heat he becomes completely bulletproof, though his eyesight does suffer, and his reaction time is dulled.
Power range:
Exponentially decreases in power strength at range.
Power safeguards:
Fireproof, and can survive longer without oxygen then most humans, also doesn't panic when he can't breathe.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 2
Blaster: 3
Striker: 6
Breaker: 6
Shaker: 6
Weapons:
None |
49,265 | 1,329 | 58 | 1,564 | 276 | Glint, Wards HQ
With a swipe of her new access card, and a quick squint into a retina scanner, Glint stepped into the Wards' common room. She was in full costume, of course, despite having only had to make her way from her mother's apartment down-town to the PRT building. The PR people insisted that heroes should be at their most iconic-looking while out in public, a fact that they never got tired of repeating, it seemed. She knew it made sense, but if she had to sit through another lecture about branding she would probably cry.
Honestly, it was yet another incentive to avoid the trip home altogether and spend the night in her quarters here.
In the safety of the Wards HQ, she felt she could probably get away with pulling her hood back, tucking her mask into a pouch on her belt, and shaking her hair free as she looked around. Odd. The place was deserted. She guessed that a few of her comrades would be out on patrol, but she'd expected to see Chimera or Scourge or... someone, hanging out in the rec room or doing homework. She didn't mind the solitude - she almost preferred it, actually. She'd only been a member of the Chicago Wards for a little over a week, so things could still be a little awkward at times. No, the problem was the possibility that there'd been some sort of crisis that she'd missed while she was in afternoon classes.
Frowning, she hurried over to the room's computer console and logged in, trying to remember how to look up the PRT's day logs... | Real name:
Joanne "Jo" Masters
(Not public knowlege)
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
A mixed-race girl (Caucasian on her mother's side, Japanese on her father's side), average height, with shoulder-length brown hair and dark brown eyes.
Hero/Villian name:
Glint
Affiliation:
Good, with the Wards
Biography:
Jo was born to a fairly well-off family, growing up in Rockford, IL. Her mother works as a journalist and news anchorwoman, while her father is a senior uniformed officer in the local PD. The pair were loving, if distant, parents, their jobs leaving little time for their daughter. Jo spent a lot of her childhood being looked after by family friends, relatives, or other babysitters.
She triggered when she was 16, while she and her mother were visiting relatives in Nebraska. While exploring on her own – actually spending time with her aunts and cousins did not appeal to the independent-minded girl – she found herself alone and exposed when a tornado struck the town. She was trapped in an unfamiliar area, cut off from support, and had never experienced such a terrifyingly unstoppable natural force before.
The tipping point came when she was thrown off her feet by flying debris, certain that she was about to die. In that moment, a shining blue light enveloped her, and the flying gravel, water, even the air around her started to slow and calm. It bought her enough time to find shelter in a nearby shop’s basement, where she spent the rest of the storm huddled with strangers, equal parts terrified and quietly amazed.
After returning home, she started to experiment, discovering the second internal phase of her power soon after. By this time, the cracks in her parent’s marriage were steadily widening, and it was easy to get lost in the fantasy of maybe, just maybe, becoming a superhero. When one of her practice sessions was discovered by one of the local PRT capes, things started to slot into place.
Jo transferred to the Chicago wards soon afterwards, under the guise of moving to live with her mother after a transfer to bigger news studio. She hasn’t had much street experience, pretty much fresh out of training and branding preparation with the PRT.
Personality:
Jo is highly independent, and is very proud of the fact. Her rather lonely upbringing, and the later breakdown of her parent’s marriage, shaped her into a somewhat solitary girl – not quite a lone wolf, but still more likely to depend on herself than others. In fact, she has some trouble trusting important tasks to anyone else, inheriting both her parent’s workaholic tendencies. She is a studious soul, and was intending to study law or journalism before becoming a cape, but she has since embraced the physical aspect of her new career, turning into a minor fitness freak in the process - as always, self-reliance is key. She is softly spoken but not shy, with a quietly passionate outlook and a strong sense of justice.
Residence:
Technically lives with her mother, but spends most of her time in her quarters in the Wards HQ.
Parental status:
Both parents alive, but split up. Mother is in Chicago, Father still lives in Rockford.
Costume:
- A black under-shirt
- Black combat pants, with in-built armour segments on the shins and knees
- Black boots and armoured gloves/bracers
- A blue and grey jacket, with in-built back and chest armour, short sleeves, and a hood.
- A black domino-style mask.
- The overall outfit resembles this, with different colours.
Power:
Jo’s power operates in two modes – external and internal. Once activated, her power continuously cycles between the two modes every 60 seconds. Trying to “hold back” a mode shift is physically uncomfortable, and Jo can, at most, buy an extra 30 seconds or so of extra time before the pain forces her to allow the change.
When the external mode is active, Jo’s power constantly resists all physical motion within her range, sapping the kinetic energy from all moving objects and eventually slowing them to a complete stop. The Manton Effect still applies, so only inorganic objects are affected. The effect is not powerful enough to completely stop a bullet or a moving vehicle, but thrown objects, clothing and handheld items can easily be completely drained of kinetic energy this way, after which they resist being moved again, almost (but not entirely) freezing in place. Any objects that Jo maintains close contact with are immune to this effect. Visually, the field manifests as a diffuse blue light, with all objects inside the field being outlined by brighter blue “threads” of light. In short, it's a "treacle field", as one of her trainers put it.
During the internal mode, the slowing field retreats back in towards Jo and is absorbed into her body, leaving her outlined in the same blue threads of light. In this mode, all forces exerted by Jo’s body are increased dramatically, boosting her apparent speed and strength. The more energy absorbed during the external phase of her power, the more her own body‘s forces are boosted during the internal phase.
Power range:
Consistent power strength in a sphere, radius ~12 meters.
Power safeguards:
The forced mode-shift mechanic of her power seems to protect her from over-exposure to the kinetic energy her power absorbs, as Jo has reported feeling sore and fatigued after "holding back" the change for too long.
PRT ranking:
Mover: 7
Shaker: 5
Brute: 5
Breaker: 7
Blaster: 2
Thinker: 1
Changer: 2
Weapons:
A police-style extendible baton and a taser. She also had a bandolier and a utility belt full of throwing weapons - usually metal darts and palm-sized rubber discs. |
49,266 | 1,329 | 59 | 2,749 | 2,491 | Gael, Verens EstradaWith Seth's voice reaching him several minutes apart, Gael made good headway towards the meeting place, his mind more focused on gathering psychic energy than it was on driving or plotting the conversation that he knew would ensue upon his arrival. Though there was one thing that Gael found slightly odd, and that was when Seth's voice had cracked upon his mentioning that he wouldn't be there. It was kind of funny, in a way, as Gael knew the man was a precog, even if he didn't know what form the man's abilities took. It meant that, more likely than not, the man's range from a given situation mattered very little in regards to his ability to predict.
He would be equally as careful as he had been as a result.
Several minutes passing, Gael eventually found himself pulling past the house in question. He was still in his costume as he parked two blocks away and then diverted the attention of everyone within a block of himself. Once he had done so he got out of his car, closing and locking its door behind him, keys in tow. He then took a roundabout route, before reappearing a total of four blocks away from the base. Here he made his appearance dramatic, suddenly allowing people to notice him. He walked as if focused towards a particular house, an empty building rather, knocked, and then blocked their vision as he made it appear as if the door opened for him. He entered the building.
If anyone did some looking into where he had been meeting, this would throw them off completely from his real trail as once he'd entered the building he reactivated his diversion field, making it once more so nobody noticed him as he walked out the backdoor and began circling back, unnoticed, to the true HQ.
It only took him about 15 minutes, and so he had roughly 15 or so to spare before the deadline of 40 had passed. The drive over hadn't been long.
Knocking on the building's door several times, his power tipping off the members of Blackout's team aside from Blackout, that their guest had arrived, he waited for them to let him in. He paid close attention to who headed down to greet him.
First impressions were quite important after all. | Gael, Verens Estrada
Theme
His real name is unknown to the public.
Gender:
Male.
Appearance:
Of relatively average build for a teenage boy of 19, Gael stands at 5'6 and weighs roughly 175 lbs. When not out in the guise of Scour, Gael wears blue contacts. His eyes, as such, tend to take on a purple coloration due to the light pink and purple blending with the contacts. He carries around sunglasses as well and never wears the shirt with the 'eye emblem' on it.
Cape Alias:
Nightfall.
This name is one he's given himself. However, should the PRT name him something else he is unlikely to correct them. After all, this name alludes to the true nature of his ability, which is something that most are unlikely to fully grasp.
Affiliation:
Villain/Criminal.
Biography:
Growing up in a broken family, Gael quickly came to know the manipulative and unhealthy side of humanity. Even as a young child he watched his mother and father fight and bicker, sometimes striking one another. At first it was frightening, but as time went on he grew used to their dispositions and learned to deal with them. While some children might cower or run, Gael learned to manipulate his parents to get what he wanted and as he grew older this began to extend to others around him. However while he could manipulate his peers and his parents, school authorities served to be...less accepting of his behavior and so, one day in highschool and at the age of 16 his parents, James and Sarah received a call from one of their son's teachers.
All was well when his parents came to school to pick the boy up and bring him home, but upon leaving the building and arriving back home the two practically went ballistic on Gael, with his mother screaming at him and his father eventually growing so angry with his lack of response, punching him hard enough to knock him off his feet.
So unaccustomed to people retaliating to him was Gael that he hit a low point. He felt tears run down his face as he glared back up at his father, his head still reeling. The man glowered right back at him and, gritting his teeth, kicked Gael in the stomach. By now his mother began yelling at James, calling the punishment overboard, but Gael had long become deaf to them. A feeling of weakness and inexplicable anger built up in him till it rose to a peak and then suddenly it was as if everything went cold.
As his parents argued, the adolescent rose to his feet behind them, his face bruised and stomach aching from his father's blows. However, a small grin was on his face as he stared at his parents argue and then outright begin striking one another. Noticing his son's grin, James ceased the struggle with his wife and approached his son yelling at him, “Do you think this is funny!? You could have been expelled. After all your mom and I do for you, you pull some shit like this and then have the gall to grin at me like that!” His father raised his fist when Gael did not respond, but never went through with the strike as before he could it would seem as if all the color in the man's face would drain away at which point he crumpled down to his knees.
Afraid, Gael's mother went to the man, pleading with him to explain what was wrong. All the while Gael smirked down at them smugly. He wasn't sure how he had done it, but he knew it was his fault that his father had lost all his will to fight just then. The same happened to his mother as she looked up at him, tears in her eyes. Immediately a look of terror entered her eyes as she saw the eerie glow of her son's eyes and the strange lines of light that had spread from them. She tried to push herself away from him, which incited a small chuckle from Gael before he raised his hand, knowing what to do by instinct alone, and immediately his mother collapsed, unconscious.
- - - - -
In the days following the event, Gael's parents wouldn't even look at him, but due to the influence of his ability, had no will to contact anyone for help. Using this to his advantage he continued to highschool eventually graduating only a year later as he excelled far beyond his peers.
Applying with scholarship and financial aid to a rather prestigious college in Chicago, Gael convinced his largely subservient parents to move, and so they did. This puts us in the present time where merely using his abilities on “mundanes,” has grown boring to him.
As such he's begun going on outings, mainly at night, to stir up trouble in hope of attracting local do-gooders so he can break them too. He's not sure where he's going, but if it's anything like the last year or so, then it can only be more fun and to Gael that's really all that matters. Even if his idea of fun is...skewed.
Personality:
In short Gael is a manipulative, egocentric personality with narcissistic tendencies and a relatively small capacity for empathy. He uses people to achieve his ends, he's two faced and he lies more easily than he tells the truth. One might call him a social chameleon and they'd be right in saying as such, because it is often that he either blends in or instead chooses to use his charisma to create his own clique. Still, Gael is not all bad, as few are, and is rather a damaged boy with a lot of very bad habits and a closed heart.
Rather than face his flaws and insecurities he has long since locked them away, instead retaliating with a cold anger when questioned or confronted about how he treats people. He is stubborn, indignant and, well, arrogant not to mention he has a superiority complex. Overall he's what most would consider a toxic personality and really, they're right. Nonetheless, if perhaps he got some help for his issues he could improve. Until then he's only going to get worse and his rapidly growing intellect is going to make his decline into the darker end of the moral spectrum hell for everyone around him.
Residence:
Gael lives in his parent's house in the suburbs of Chicago.
Parental status:
While his Mother and Father are both alive, they are essentially puppets to him, set on a sort of autopilot which allows them to appear fairly normal to others.
Costume:
He tends to wear a black hoodie with a matching T-shirt beneath. On the shirt is a stylistic drawing of an eye. He wears black jeans and no mask. Instead his hoodie or his ability often obscures his identity. Gael carries his cellphone, which he's had jury rigged and set up with 20 lock screens unless he turns that setting off. He wears a pair of gloves so his fingerprints are never left behind. Additionally he carries a bottle of pepper spray.
Power:
Gael's ability focuses around an invisible aura, which he can utilize to siphon psychic energy, mentally draining humans and weakening the powers of parahumans before affecting their mind as well. This energy, once obtained, is assimilated by Gael by way of a secondary nervous system which stores and allocates his additional mental capacity. Personality traits are retained within psychic energy causing Gael's mind to be more of a hivemind than a normal human one. Aside from this is Gael's capacity to harness psychic energy he has gathered and focus it to attack the minds of others, penetrating their thoughts and weakening them. Conversely he might bolster or enhance communication with teammates should he use his power more constructively. Nonetheless, perhaps the most dangerous aspect of his ability is the result of prolonged exposure as over time one's suggestibility to Gael is increased while the capacity for conscious thought and decision making is decreased. While indeed a frightening prospect, this is something that would take days, weeks, or even months to achieve at best with the longest being years.
While the above details the majority of his ability's manifestation, Gael's perception was also effected by his trigger event, from that day on allowing him to see both his own aura and those of others. He can do this either with his eyes or by making contact with his aura. However doing so with just his aura will only notify him of an individual's mental state, whereas his eyes will tell him whether an individual is human or parahuman. A smoother aura is indicative of a more stable psyche whereas a rougher or scattered aura indicate an unstable or less stable one. Parahumans, in addition to possessing an aura texture also have colored auras while normal humans are perceived as gray scale. Brighter colors denote non-physical abilities, the brighter the color the more potent the ability while darker colors indicate more physical abilities. Neutral colors are somewhere in between the two or are abilities that cannot be clearly defined by either category. The color, aside from its brightness, seems to indicate the nature of the person more than it does the nature of their ability.
Notes: Gael's abilities can be subverted by the occasional Stranger-type ability. Being aware of his ability, its effect on you, or being averse to him in general makes you more resistant to his influence. Individuals with Thinker or Trump abilities are most resistant to him, with some Thinkers perhaps being entirely immune. However, power nullification does not work on him once you enter his field of influence—though it does make one more resistant to him. Gael is capable of siphoning psychic energy via direct physical contact, this method is the most efficient and as such drains people faster.
Power range:
Gael's ability, while possessing a relatively large area of effect, does not have a conventional range. Instead his area of influence, when unaltered, is a sphere with a 10 meter radius. Gael can redistribute the volume of these sphere thus altering its shape and allowing him to extend his range up to roughly 2.6 miles if he were to condense it into a single hyper-thin string.
Power safeguards:
While Gael's ability does not guard him against much it does make him largely immune to abilities that would seek to influence the mind. Additionally it gives him some measure of resistance to Trump abilities. Beyond this Gael's ability only makes him truly immune to two things, these being sensory overload and psychological breakdowns. This is largely due to the nature of his trigger event.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 7.
Master: 5.
Shaker: 4.
Striker: 4.
Trump: 3.
Weapons:
Gael carries a light, but durable baton that can extend and retract. Its minimum size is roughly 1.5 feet, while its max length when extended is 6 feet. The end of the baton has a sharp point and the baton will lock in place when opened unless pressure is applied on the handle. |
49,267 | 1,329 | 60 | 2,253 | 659 | Nathan
Ward HQ
Nathan entered the Ward's common room the same way Glint had a minute or two before him, though his access card allowed him additional freedom at more times then her's did. He had just left the Monitoring room a minute or so before hand as the action around the bank had calmed down. He wanted to see if any of the Wards got left behind, and his suspicions were confirmed upon entering the room. "Hey, Glint. Do you have your earpiece, or phone on you? An incident occurred down town while the Protectorate were busy, and we couldn't get in contact with you." He said in a professional tone
Glint was an odd one. He had read her file, and the notes the therapist had left about her. He had read all of the Ward's files in fact, but Glint was a bit different then the rest. Where Scourge had psychopathic tendencies, Scarlet had almost the exact opposite problem. Chimera and Chroma were definitely opposites from each other, in his opinion, but Glint. . . She was a bit more mature then the others and even exercised regularly. All in all she seemed very prepared for her life as a cape, and Nathan didn't have a hard time seeing her in a leadership role in the protectorate once she reached eighteen.
As chatter rose a bit on the earpiece Nathan had on, he raised his hand and replied to the question asked by Chimera. "None of you are going to secure the perimeter, actually. Change of plans, I know you just got there Chimera, but all of you should head back to base. None of your powers lend themselves to tracking these people in this setting. You'll be debriefed once you guys arrive back at the base, and then PR will talk to you about the kind of statement you guys will make." Nathan explained, his voice reeking of authority. After he finished speaking, he switched to another channel and spoke again. "Send a car around and bring the Wards back to base." This time his voice was a bit more polite, as he was talking to a non-Ward subordinate. | Real name:
Vince Kiran
(He is publicly known to be a ward)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Though in clothed profile he may appear normal, below his collarbone are intricate black lines, almost like tattoos but with more depth. At his chest they make simple elegant curves, but turn into more primitive hard lines as they go over his arms and hands. They are warmer then his body temperature, and have small cracks within them. He is clearly Caucasian.
Hero/Villian name:
Scourge
Affiliation:
Ward member
Biography:
Vince had an average life for a child raised by parents who are in the top one percent, though his parents were strict. He had to focus on his studies almost exclusively, leading to a sort of scholarly isolation. It didn't jade Vince though, as it was the only life he knew, and he never noticed how other kids had parties in the afternoon while he instead had study sessions. Where other students would watch movies, he would instead read "Catcher in the Rye," and as such isolation became a fact of life. Even his parents ignored him, always expecting perfection, and though content to observe it in their son, not surprised.
All through elementary school, middle school, and currently most of high school he has had perfect grades. Never less then one hundred percent, and often more when possible. Brute force met all schoolwork head on, and Vince always won. Loneliness became so common that his parents finally started to worry when he was sixteen. They decided he needed to find something to strive for besides good grades, oblivious to the fact that it was their fault he had embraced such isolation. They payed the hefty fee required, and Vince got his powers artificially through Cauldron. He chose an unstable enough formula to be considered a case 53. At first the change was small enough to not matter, a small black indent on his chest, but as Vince used his power more, the indent became an intricate structure across his entire body.
At seventeen currently, Vince is a member of the Wards. He seems to be the odd one out though as he rarely signs up for extra patrols, and continues his scholarly pursuits. He is viewed as weird at school, and has expressed no interest, currently, in any gender, or material object besides grades. Currently he does, as his parent wished, strive for one thing: Justice. Despite the Powers being his parent's idea, they still view him as a monster currently, secretly resenting his less then pristine appearance.
Personality:
Vince is a very reserved individual, and his presence is easily forgotten in the midst of conversation. However he has no problem participating in dialogue, he doesn't go out of his way to contribute information. He is admittedly dull witted, and rarely makes jokes, or apprecietes them. He is a fan of one-liners though.
Residence:
Private residence in gated community.
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
Normally a grey hoodie, and sweats. When he is on a serious patrol he will take fireproof Tinker made gear.
Power:
Vince is a pyrokinetic, and is able to generate flames from his mouth, and from the black lines across his body. Unfortunately items touching him are not fire proof in the least. The hotter Vince gets, the more black lines spread across his body (They started forming from the chest.) He is only able to control fire within thirty meters of himself, and can only make the flame as hot as 180 Celsius, though he can generate this heat from seemingly nowhere. Vince also has a very deep understanding of how heat will spread throughout a 3D space (Given he has seen all parts to the space.) As such he can easily trap criminals without actually harming them. He can even suspend fire in mid air using his pyrokinesis. The hotter his external body temperature the more resilient he becomes. At his maximum heat he becomes completely bulletproof, though his eyesight does suffer, and his reaction time is dulled.
Power range:
Exponentially decreases in power strength at range.
Power safeguards:
Fireproof, and can survive longer without oxygen then most humans, also doesn't panic when he can't breathe.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 2
Blaster: 3
Striker: 6
Breaker: 6
Shaker: 6
Weapons:
None |
49,268 | 1,329 | 61 | 97 | 637 | On the Floor Behind the Couch
As Serephina sat on the floor stroking her cat's head, she tried to relax and control her breathing. Odette purred contently in her lap and looked up at her and blinked slowly. From a cat, a slow blink was a sign of love and trust. Serephina did it back and Odette calmly laid her head back down. Regus and Ryan were busy massacring each other's characters in a video game. too busy hearing gunshots and vulgar words, they didn't hear the giant pounding suddenly made evident to Serephina. Feeling guilty having to get up with her adorable sleeping cat in her lap, she put Odette on the back of the couch and stood up. "There's someone pounding rather aggressively on the door guys. Is it the Boss?"
When no one responded, Serephina sighed, rolled her eyes and went to answer the door. Upon opening it, she saw a boy standing there looking rather desolate. She thought she had seen this boy before but she just couldn't put her finger on it yet. Half smiling, she timidly said "Hi?. . . Who might you be? I feel like I've seen you before but I can't seem to put my finger on your name." Serephina racked her brain trying to remember where she had seen him before. She knew it would come to her eventually, but it would come at the most irrelevant, inconvenient time. Turning around and yelling up to Regus and Ryan "Someone's here! Ryan get down here!" She waved the boy in and shut the door behind him. | Real name:
Serephina Mayhem
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Tall, skinny but with proportionate curves. Has many small scars from self harm and freckles in all the usual places. Has dark brown hair, green eyes and fair colored skin. Very strong boned and has a lot of force behind her body weight.
Is it public knowledge that your character is a cape?:
No
Hero/Villain name:
To be decided
Affiliation:
Rouge
Biography:
When she was first born, her mother took care of her for a couple months but then abandoned her with her boyfriend’s brother’s family where she was severely abused for 2 and a half years. She has never met her real father and plans to look for him whenever she can get to a bigger city where someone can help her. Her first trigger event was one specific day when her antagonizers came down into the basement where she was being held and proceeded to beat her with what was called a “morning star” for more than 2 hours.
Serephina's trigger event happened after her attackers left the basement. When the lights were shut off, she noticed that she could see perfectly in the pitch blackness and hear what her attackers were talking about upstairs no matter how far away from her they were. It didn't matter because they were all in the same house. Her being simply a year and a half old when it happened, she didn't know what she was capable of until she was taken into her grandparent's custody and accidentally stumbled on her super speed power when running away from a rattlesnake that was trying to strike her.
She discovered her hologram when she was a freshman in high school. Serephina had a bully that would corner her in the halls during passing period and try to harm her. One time, when she was being bullied, she closed her eyes and prepared to receive a punch in the stomach when she noticed that nothing had happened. She opened her eyes and there was what looked like a twin of herself holding the girl in a headlock. The hologram motioned for her to run and that's what she did. (It cannot speak.)
(Outside character knowledge:) I would also like to add some things about my hologram. it is my strongest power. When the hologram is protecting her, no one else but her, can see it. For instance, if someone tries to attack her and Serephina activates her hologram, it will simply look like the attack is hitting an unidentified force. It also has the ability to cover Serephina in a bubble like force field that blocks all sound frequencies from penetrating it. The hologram does not take damage. I want it to have one weakness but I have yet to decide what that is yet.
She was also never fed. After the horror was ended when her grandparents took her into their home, she from there on she had disassociation syndrome. This is a disease that affects your relationships with others. A person with this mental condition does not feel strong emotions towards very many people or things. When they get attached to someone however, they will never let go and will be very loyal. Everyone else however, they will be completely numb to and have no feelings of love or attachment. All through middle school and high school, she never fit in with anyone except a few of the social outcasts that made her feel like she could be herself. But when those friends moved away, she had nothing left in school so she dropped out her junior year.
Soon after dropping out, she left home. She packed her stuff in the middle of the night, left a note saying that she left and was never seen again by her grandparents. The police looked for for a year but then gave up when they found nothing. Her cat is the only thing she has that means the world to her and loves. She has trained her cat to follow her wherever she goes, come when she is called and obey certain commands.
Personality:
Quiet when you first meet her but if she lets you get close to her, she becomes more comfortable and outgoing with you. Very argumentative and questions everything everyone says. She does not take anyone's word for anything. Very helpful when she sees others struggling and she knows she can help but she will not befriend anyone she helps. Friends come to her. Not the other way around. Keeps to herself mostly of the time but is polite and mildly friendly if approached.
Residence:
Doesn't have a home. She makes camp wherever she finds a safe place to rest for the night. She would rather wander alone than be at her Grandparent’s house.
Parental status:
Orphan. Her mother is alive but she has nothing to do with her and she has never met her real dad.
Costume:
She wears thin sneakers most of the time as opposed to other kinds of shoes so she is not weighed down when she runs. When she knows she might have to climb something or trudge through something difficult, she switches over to a pair of hiking boots which she carries in her backpack. She wears a dark green hoodie zipped up and something similar to yoga pants. She has implanted another layer of cloth on top of the original to keep her warm in whatever cold weather she encounters.
Power:
As a result of her abuse as a child, her power revolves around protection and flight skills. If she is in a bad situation and wants to leave, she can become invisible for a short enough period of time for her to get herself a good distance away from the situation. The higher her sense of danger or adrenaline, the longer her invisibility can stay active. Anything she holds will also be invisible. She also has super speed and the ability to create a twin hologram to protect her when she cannot protect herself. Her speed is an 80% increase than her normal running speed. This hologram can pick things up and move them to places Serephina wants her to. It cannot however go through solid objects. Whatever the hologram sees, Serephina sees. She can control what the hologram does, or let it act on it’s own. It has a database of several offensive and defensive battle techniques and its only purpose is to keep Serephina alive. It cannot take damage except for it's one weakness (which someone will figure out eventually.) Lastly, she has heightened hearing and sight. Heightened sight meaning she can see in the dark and see farther away than most people can. Her hearing has a farther distance range and higher frequency range than most normal people.
Power range:
Her powers have no distance limit except her hologram. It will shut down if she is more than 150 feet away from it after it is created.
Power safeguards:
Her powers only activate when she is in danger, or when her adrenaline levels are very high.
PRT ranking:
Mover: 5
Thinker: 3
Master: 0
Stranger: 7
Weapons:
Small hunting knife
Misc:
She carries a backpack with her wherever she goes that contains things she has stolen and her changes of socks, shoes and other clothing items from her past home. Her cat also hides in this backpack when Serephina wants her to. |
49,269 | 1,329 | 62 | 1,564 | 276 | Glint, Wards HQ
Glint turned and straightened up from her hunch over the console at the sound of the door sliding open, but instead of a fellow Wards she saw one of the PRT guys, the one in charge of organising the junior team. Nathan-something? Her face fell as he spoke up, confirming her fears that she had indeed missed something. On her first week.
"I was in class and had my phone on silent. Shit, I thought the tech guys said they sorted my alerts..." She muttered angrily, pulling out her phone and earpiece. Yup, of course. There were the contact alerts. Fantastic. She could just about smack her head against the console screen.
"Sorry, sir. I should have checked it myself. It won't happen again." She said, tucking her earpiece in, trying to keep her expression professional while her stomach churned with embarrassment. She managed to catch the tail end of the coms chatter, and of course Nathan's orders. It was probably just paranoia, but she couldn't help but feel like his cold tone was partially directed at her.
"Is there anything I can do while the others are on the way?" She asked, one finger tapping restlessly on the back of the console chair. | Real name:
Joanne "Jo" Masters
(Not public knowlege)
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
A mixed-race girl (Caucasian on her mother's side, Japanese on her father's side), average height, with shoulder-length brown hair and dark brown eyes.
Hero/Villian name:
Glint
Affiliation:
Good, with the Wards
Biography:
Jo was born to a fairly well-off family, growing up in Rockford, IL. Her mother works as a journalist and news anchorwoman, while her father is a senior uniformed officer in the local PD. The pair were loving, if distant, parents, their jobs leaving little time for their daughter. Jo spent a lot of her childhood being looked after by family friends, relatives, or other babysitters.
She triggered when she was 16, while she and her mother were visiting relatives in Nebraska. While exploring on her own – actually spending time with her aunts and cousins did not appeal to the independent-minded girl – she found herself alone and exposed when a tornado struck the town. She was trapped in an unfamiliar area, cut off from support, and had never experienced such a terrifyingly unstoppable natural force before.
The tipping point came when she was thrown off her feet by flying debris, certain that she was about to die. In that moment, a shining blue light enveloped her, and the flying gravel, water, even the air around her started to slow and calm. It bought her enough time to find shelter in a nearby shop’s basement, where she spent the rest of the storm huddled with strangers, equal parts terrified and quietly amazed.
After returning home, she started to experiment, discovering the second internal phase of her power soon after. By this time, the cracks in her parent’s marriage were steadily widening, and it was easy to get lost in the fantasy of maybe, just maybe, becoming a superhero. When one of her practice sessions was discovered by one of the local PRT capes, things started to slot into place.
Jo transferred to the Chicago wards soon afterwards, under the guise of moving to live with her mother after a transfer to bigger news studio. She hasn’t had much street experience, pretty much fresh out of training and branding preparation with the PRT.
Personality:
Jo is highly independent, and is very proud of the fact. Her rather lonely upbringing, and the later breakdown of her parent’s marriage, shaped her into a somewhat solitary girl – not quite a lone wolf, but still more likely to depend on herself than others. In fact, she has some trouble trusting important tasks to anyone else, inheriting both her parent’s workaholic tendencies. She is a studious soul, and was intending to study law or journalism before becoming a cape, but she has since embraced the physical aspect of her new career, turning into a minor fitness freak in the process - as always, self-reliance is key. She is softly spoken but not shy, with a quietly passionate outlook and a strong sense of justice.
Residence:
Technically lives with her mother, but spends most of her time in her quarters in the Wards HQ.
Parental status:
Both parents alive, but split up. Mother is in Chicago, Father still lives in Rockford.
Costume:
- A black under-shirt
- Black combat pants, with in-built armour segments on the shins and knees
- Black boots and armoured gloves/bracers
- A blue and grey jacket, with in-built back and chest armour, short sleeves, and a hood.
- A black domino-style mask.
- The overall outfit resembles this, with different colours.
Power:
Jo’s power operates in two modes – external and internal. Once activated, her power continuously cycles between the two modes every 60 seconds. Trying to “hold back” a mode shift is physically uncomfortable, and Jo can, at most, buy an extra 30 seconds or so of extra time before the pain forces her to allow the change.
When the external mode is active, Jo’s power constantly resists all physical motion within her range, sapping the kinetic energy from all moving objects and eventually slowing them to a complete stop. The Manton Effect still applies, so only inorganic objects are affected. The effect is not powerful enough to completely stop a bullet or a moving vehicle, but thrown objects, clothing and handheld items can easily be completely drained of kinetic energy this way, after which they resist being moved again, almost (but not entirely) freezing in place. Any objects that Jo maintains close contact with are immune to this effect. Visually, the field manifests as a diffuse blue light, with all objects inside the field being outlined by brighter blue “threads” of light. In short, it's a "treacle field", as one of her trainers put it.
During the internal mode, the slowing field retreats back in towards Jo and is absorbed into her body, leaving her outlined in the same blue threads of light. In this mode, all forces exerted by Jo’s body are increased dramatically, boosting her apparent speed and strength. The more energy absorbed during the external phase of her power, the more her own body‘s forces are boosted during the internal phase.
Power range:
Consistent power strength in a sphere, radius ~12 meters.
Power safeguards:
The forced mode-shift mechanic of her power seems to protect her from over-exposure to the kinetic energy her power absorbs, as Jo has reported feeling sore and fatigued after "holding back" the change for too long.
PRT ranking:
Mover: 7
Shaker: 5
Brute: 5
Breaker: 7
Blaster: 2
Thinker: 1
Changer: 2
Weapons:
A police-style extendible baton and a taser. She also had a bandolier and a utility belt full of throwing weapons - usually metal darts and palm-sized rubber discs. |
49,270 | 1,329 | 63 | 2,253 | 659 | Chroma
Now at the front of the bank
Chroma stalked over to Scourge, Spencer, and Chimera, petulantly putting his earpiece back in. He stood next to them fuming for a bit, his mind lingering on his failure, and the inability of his teammates to rectify it in a timely manner. Nathan's voice came on over the earpiece carrying with it instructions, and Chroma let out a shaky sigh. "Lets get going then," He said sullenly.
Scourge
Bank Alley
Scourge watched Spencers face to gauge whether she was joking or not. Unfortunately he couldn't tell. Before he could say anything else, Chimera approached them. She rapid fired questions, and Scourge ignored all of them excluding the last one. "Nice to see you too!" He replied, smiling widely, Spencer's stress inducing antics momentarily forgotten. He went through the questions in his head again, and realized Chimera asked about Spencer.
"This is Spencer, Spencer this is Chimera, Chimera, Spencer has powers, and was acting very suspicious at the crime scene," As he finished, Nathan spoke into his ear, and Chroma approached them. "I agree with Chroma," He said, "Lets let the true superheroes take over from here."
Nathan
Ward HQ
Nathan nodded understandingly, clearly not angry. "That's okay, really. Considering the situation the other Wards were in, your presence wouldn't have made the combat any safer, or led to the capture of any villains." It was a straight faced lie, her presence would've undoubtedly led to a capture of the three villains, even the stranger. Despite this, getting angry about her mistake would fix absolutely nothing.
"In the meantime you could get a briefing from HR, and a debriefing from PR. They'll be happy to fill you in, though they may wait till the others arrive" Nathan suggested, looking about the room for anything of interest, contraband for instance. As the Wards were literally the poster children of the Protectorate, it was important that they were never found to be preforming illicit acts. | Real name:
Vince Kiran
(He is publicly known to be a ward)
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Though in clothed profile he may appear normal, below his collarbone are intricate black lines, almost like tattoos but with more depth. At his chest they make simple elegant curves, but turn into more primitive hard lines as they go over his arms and hands. They are warmer then his body temperature, and have small cracks within them. He is clearly Caucasian.
Hero/Villian name:
Scourge
Affiliation:
Ward member
Biography:
Vince had an average life for a child raised by parents who are in the top one percent, though his parents were strict. He had to focus on his studies almost exclusively, leading to a sort of scholarly isolation. It didn't jade Vince though, as it was the only life he knew, and he never noticed how other kids had parties in the afternoon while he instead had study sessions. Where other students would watch movies, he would instead read "Catcher in the Rye," and as such isolation became a fact of life. Even his parents ignored him, always expecting perfection, and though content to observe it in their son, not surprised.
All through elementary school, middle school, and currently most of high school he has had perfect grades. Never less then one hundred percent, and often more when possible. Brute force met all schoolwork head on, and Vince always won. Loneliness became so common that his parents finally started to worry when he was sixteen. They decided he needed to find something to strive for besides good grades, oblivious to the fact that it was their fault he had embraced such isolation. They payed the hefty fee required, and Vince got his powers artificially through Cauldron. He chose an unstable enough formula to be considered a case 53. At first the change was small enough to not matter, a small black indent on his chest, but as Vince used his power more, the indent became an intricate structure across his entire body.
At seventeen currently, Vince is a member of the Wards. He seems to be the odd one out though as he rarely signs up for extra patrols, and continues his scholarly pursuits. He is viewed as weird at school, and has expressed no interest, currently, in any gender, or material object besides grades. Currently he does, as his parent wished, strive for one thing: Justice. Despite the Powers being his parent's idea, they still view him as a monster currently, secretly resenting his less then pristine appearance.
Personality:
Vince is a very reserved individual, and his presence is easily forgotten in the midst of conversation. However he has no problem participating in dialogue, he doesn't go out of his way to contribute information. He is admittedly dull witted, and rarely makes jokes, or apprecietes them. He is a fan of one-liners though.
Residence:
Private residence in gated community.
Parental status:
Both alive
Costume:
Normally a grey hoodie, and sweats. When he is on a serious patrol he will take fireproof Tinker made gear.
Power:
Vince is a pyrokinetic, and is able to generate flames from his mouth, and from the black lines across his body. Unfortunately items touching him are not fire proof in the least. The hotter Vince gets, the more black lines spread across his body (They started forming from the chest.) He is only able to control fire within thirty meters of himself, and can only make the flame as hot as 180 Celsius, though he can generate this heat from seemingly nowhere. Vince also has a very deep understanding of how heat will spread throughout a 3D space (Given he has seen all parts to the space.) As such he can easily trap criminals without actually harming them. He can even suspend fire in mid air using his pyrokinesis. The hotter his external body temperature the more resilient he becomes. At his maximum heat he becomes completely bulletproof, though his eyesight does suffer, and his reaction time is dulled.
Power range:
Exponentially decreases in power strength at range.
Power safeguards:
Fireproof, and can survive longer without oxygen then most humans, also doesn't panic when he can't breathe.
PRT ranking:
Thinker: 2
Blaster: 3
Striker: 6
Breaker: 6
Shaker: 6
Weapons:
None |
49,271 | 1,329 | 64 | 2,223 | 11 | Spencer
Outside Bank Entrance
"First, is the chase possible? Second, did they left anything in the bank? Third, who is that girl? Fourth, give me a full report, especially about that master bloke. Fifth, we'll make the decision of who goes after them and who does the perimeter buisness as we go along... Also, the last one - 'sup Scourge! Nice to see you."
"Wow wasn"t that a mouthful" Spencer chuckled to her self then took in Scourge's response.
"I was not acting suspicious. I'm just curious about what was happening, hot stuff." Spencer reacted, pouting, partly because Scourge was accusing her again and partly because he smiled at the new person in the picture. She took in the pierced woman that had showed up, Chimera. She was genuinely jealous of the girls looks and amazed by her style. Spencer liked it. It wasn't something she could pull off but this woman could. | Real name:
Spencer
(Not public knowledge Spencer is a cape)
Gender:
N/A
Appearance is sociably acceptable as female.
Appearance:
Dark waist length hair, bangs are chin length and lavender as are the end of their hair, green/emerald eyes, 6'1, left arm has a sleeve of tribal/vine/flower tattoos
Hero/Villian name:
Undecided
Affiliation:
Evil Rogue
Biography:
Spencer was born to an English/German mother and Arabic father, hence her tan skin and dark hair, in New York. Born an only child, the first few years were simple and sweet. Until, at age 6, her parents tried to have another child. Her mother carried her unborn sibling for 5 months before sadly the child didn't make it.
Her mother and father were wrecked afterwards and took out their misfortune on their first and only child. That's why her mental state went to shit. Now she suffers with a manic bipolar disorder and mild depression. Including the beatings she was not feed regularly so she had to go to stealing and as time went by she got good at it.
Age 10 to 14 they were bullied for her/their ripped dark cloths and low class. During those times she would try to stay in the background and hide. But she was always kind to those around her. Home for her was still rough and hiding the bruises and cuts became more difficult. She didn't think it could get worse. It did.
The Leviathan attack on New York killed both her parents as she looked on from inside an Endbringer vault. Ironically enough, despite the abuse, this triggered Spencer. Though she didn't display her power, she did start testing it. Her tests soon made her realize she could manipulate people's emotions.
As a refugee she was sent to Chicago to live in an orphanage while attending one of the worse off schools. Fortunately it was still better then the ghettos she lived in in New York.
As more time went on she realized she could give off bits and pieces of her emotions to those around as well as see the aura of their personality around them. The more she used her power in the person the easier it was.
After a long time of being frustrated with the normal necessities of life that she couldn't get at the orphanage she began plundering again. Money, clothes, drugs, you name it. She often uses her power to help avoid being caught.
Personality:
Spencer is always happy to hers and those around hers knowledge, though she is fairly short tempered because of her bipolar disorder. She is also very strange and not regular "there". She has fun manipulating people she has no liking for.
Residence:
Nomad. They move around.
Parental status:
Both deceased: Died in leviathan attack.
Costume:
Undecided by Spencer.
Power:
Can make people she knows the location of feel emotions. The better she's knows the person the easier the target. When transferring the emotion, depending on the level she gives, the same level of emotion she will lack (Example: she's depressed and transfers someone near her to be sad her depression will falter). She can see emotions in the form of hazy colors around others like an aura. Depending on the emotion the color changes.
Power range:
As far as needed, with the maximum distance being a mile. The more she know the person the easier the power is to use on them.
Power safeguards:
N/A
PRT ranking:
Stranger 3
shaker: 1
Thinker: 1
Master: 4
Weapons:
A knife. Always a knife. An Arabian styled dagger, the last thing she has from her father. |
49,272 | 1,330 | 0 | 1,380 | 1,423 | Death does not discriminate. It cares not for your wealth, your pride, your strength or your honor. It can strike in an instant as the blade of an assassin, or torture its victims over years until finally releasing them into everlasting peace.
This place is not so different. With no memory of your arrival, no familiarity with those trapped beside you, you are the victim of death, subjected to the horrors regardless of your past. If the traps and monsters do not rip your life away in a blink of the eye, then time will become your greatest fear as your hope rots and your mind fades into a dull shell of your former self. If even then you persist, then you will suffer at the hands of those who did not.
Perhaps after all of this, you hold with desperation onto the idea that you'll see the light of day once again.
Perhaps.
If this is what drives you, then you better get climbing. The only way is up, and there's only one way to see what's at the top of...
The Tower
~Prologue~
Left In the Dark
Yes, climb and climb, you will. Give yourself goals, it would be all the more pleasing when you fail...
Cold, dry, empty, and most of all, dark. The enclosure that the adventures and nobles awoke in was about one hundred feet wide in both directions. A single torch rested on a pedestal in the center as well as torches along the walls gave the smooth dark stone of this room a color that mimicked rotting pumpkins, and this sickly coloration faded into blackness upward, the ceiling was beyond the depressing light's reach. Each of the people trapped in this room awoke one by one as if synchronized, each sitting up with a sudden start from the chilled floor and into the dusty and still air around them. The scent of musk was faint but apparent as they looked about, seeing one another scattered across the room. | The Cast
Player Army
Cato Mancha played by
Varrus Volkanon played by
Juniper Drev played by
Augustus Alsroht played by
Ulrich Halechstin played by
Sigrdrífa Rylo played by
Keghan played by |
49,273 | 1,330 | 1 | 732 | 8,842 | Sigrdrífa Rylo
Sigrdrífa's eyes popped open and she looked around. No danger, yet. A self check revealed she was fully armoured with a weapon and no visible injuries or signs of damage. Which left several questions. Why was she here, where was here, and who were these people with here? There about six other around the room, all seemed to have come awake at the same time. Eerie. Her eye's flicked around for search of an exit but the dark made it difficult to tell what was a dark wall and what was something else. Sigrdrífa took a step or two and pounded her spear butt against the floor and spoke decisively. "Sigrdrífa Rylo, knight of Jorhan. Current situation unknown."
Well there wasn't much else to say. She had no idea what sort of people were here and how they would react to someone taking charge. If needed she could do so but if there was a noble here she would be loath to make an enemy in such an unknown situation. Sigrdrífa scanned the face's of those still waking for their reaction, hopefully they were either like her and soldiers with no idea what was going on, or better yet, they had some semblance of what had happened. The fear that they would be bandits and of that ilk went unspoken and mostly unthought, such things would a waste of energy unless they proved themselves in time. | Sigrdrífa
Sheer muscle is nothing compared to the strength that comes from within.
Sigrdrífa is a fairly tall and strong women, as anyone who is a solider, particularly a knight, is. Without her amour she weighs in at 90 Kilos(200 pounds) and is 208 centimeters tall(6 feet 7 inches). Her hands are heavily scarred, though they are usually covered by her gloves. Her eyes are a startlingly vivid blue color. She's rarely out of her amour, which is rather bulky, to the point where anything beyond simple movements is a bit of stretch, unless she's sleeping.
Age
27
Sex
Female
Main Class
Knight
Reclass
Cleric and Mercenary
Personality
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Sigrdrífa is naturally warm-hearted and friendly, which would seem odd given her line of work. However these traits are what make her so determined so be a knight and protect others. She's interested in doing what's best for people, even if that doesn't quite fit in with what other people think. Generally Sigrdrífa doesn't have strong opinions of her own and will let others have their say, but she's keen to correct any woefully wrong and unjust things she sees.
Biography / History
Sigrdrífa was born into a family that had a long tradition of distinguished military service. Jorhan's armies relied on the Rylo family for its various excellent generals, powerful mages, and expert soldiers. The Rylo's weren't expected to serve in the military. They did serve in the military. Sigrdrífa quickly found that she had some sort of sense for tactics and naturally favored the spear. At the age of eight of course. Sigrdrífa's service had yet to promote her to more than a platoon captain but that was enough for her. She was a good leader, firm yet fair. Sigrdrífa learned what it was like to lose a friend and how to keep moving on. She never got used to that terrible feeling, but always managed to deal with it. After all, if Sigrdrífa wasn't here to protect her friends, who would be? |
49,274 | 1,330 | 2 | 1,836 | 2,639 | Ulrich Halechstin
Ulrich started to stir from his... sleep. He opened his eyes only to find that he seemed to be in someplace where the sun doesn't reach. He was still lying on his back. He propped himself up using his elbows and then looked around. There were torches lining the walls and then one on the pedestal. This place reminded him so much of when he saw Val's dead body. He felt a cold shudder run through his spine before he shook himself, reminding that he was not there anymore.
But then, where was he and how did he get here? Those questions remained in his mind as he continued to look around. Oh wait, there were other humans in there. About six of them and then one was already up and running and even spoke in such a way that she was taking charge. Not that he minded. He was a mercenary, so to say, and he's used to hearing orders and following them. He then finally stood up from his position. The others were just waking up from whatever trance they had been in.
"Ulrich Halechstin's the name. Mercenary by trade." The gray haired male said, to introduce him somewhat to those who could hear him. He wanted to know who he was trapped with. Hopefully, he could at least squeeze out some names from them. None of them were familiar after all and since they were all trapped inside, he might as well get to know them. | Ulrich Halechstin
"They say that there is a special type of magic out there, and I strive to found out what that is."
Most would consider him small for his age, standing at a height of 5'4". He is distinct among others because of his gray hair and eyes, which is quite odd for a young boy to have. He also has childish features for someone who is nearing the age of 20. He rarely wears anything other than his signature greyish green cloak and its hood is usually seen covering his head. One other noticeable feature about him is the odd shaped tattoo under his right eye, even he is unsure of what it is. He carries around a knapsack which contains books, magical or not and other needs.
Age
19
Sex
Male
Main Class
Wizard
Reclass
Shaman and Monk
Personality
Alignment
- True Neutral
He believes himself to be a free spirit, never wanting to fully bow down to anyone besides himself. Yes, he can work for others and follow someone's orders but he believes that is because of his own decisions and he can choose to obey or disobey it as he pleases. However, if he sells his allegiance to you, he will see the contract to the bitter end. He has a great love for books, fictional or not, and tends to carry some with him wherever he goes. He takes comfort in these when in dire situations. He is nice to others and can strike up a conversation when he can. He is open-minded, not minding if someone is talking about their nefarious schemes or valiant deeds. So long as they don't attack him, he's good. He will learn anything he can as well, especially when it involves magic. His true goal is to learn everything to know about the field and expand it.
Biography / History
Ulrich wasn't quite your average citizen. In fact, he wasn't a citizen of any kingdom at all. He lived in a small village between two kingdoms inside a forest known for its notorious wolves. His village isn't normal at all. From a young age, kids were taught how to protect themselves, through sword or magic, it didn't matter. Once they've learned the basics, a mage and a physical warrior will be put in pairs and then thrown into the wilderness. Their goal is to make back to the village alive. Ulrich was paired up with a well-trained female mercenary. Her name was Valerie, or Val for short, and she was quite a skilled mercenary. Both of them had pristine teamwork despite just meeting and they were the first pair to return to the village thanks to Ulrich's memory and natural tracking ability.
They were prophesied to be a great pair of paid warriors. But Ulrich wasn't too keen on killing but he had no choice. By the age of 14, both he and Val started to travel to earn for their own. Partners were for life, even if you have a family, you will travel with them. That is the saying of their village. That is why partners are of opposite sex, because most can't live a normal life with this rule embedded in their minds. But Ulrich and Val were different, they knew that they were going to leave each other once one falls in love with another and they fully accepted it. They were out of the village so why follow right?
By the age of 18, they had travelled far from their village. At that moment, they were caught up in a war between two kingdoms. Seeing the opportunity, the sellswords sold their allegiance to both kingdoms and see who can win their bid. One had a higher price than the other so they immediately went for the 'blue kingdom' as they called it. They fought and gave it their best shot. Needless to say, they were quite a help despite being young. But the kingdom knew that if the 'red kingdom' would send a messenger to them having greater money, they will deviate and tell the other kingdom of all their plans. The King was wrong as the two were loyal but his decision was already made. That night, Ulrich went outside to read and study the stars. When he came back to the room, he saw Val, bloody, stabbed multiple times in her abdomen. Needless to say, he was enraged but he fully knew that his capabilities would not be enough to defeat all of them. With a heavy heart, he fled the kingdom.
But not before some minor revenge. He sold the information to the 'red kingdom' and needless to say, the kingdom won. Ulrich put up a proper burial for his partner and continued his quest alone. Without a trusty sword beside him, he felt vulnerable to say at least but he knew that Val would get angry if he gave up. And so he continued to hone his skills and find out more about his beloved magic. |
49,275 | 1,330 | 3 | 1,207 | 396 | Cato Mancha
Cato let out a soft groan as he opened his eyes and slowly raised his sore body from the hard ground. His eye adjusted to the low light quickly as he studied the room, he took note of the dreariness of the room, it was cold, dry and dark, like a dungeon. How did he get here. He wondered, did Miran nobles kidnapped him for ransom? Was he to be tortured then killed by assassins? There was so many possibilities and no answers as the only people in the room who were awake just looked just as confused as he was, it also didn't help him figure out their predicament when they said they were just a knight and mercenary, maybe the others still passed out were nobles or even royalty like himself.
Cato stood up fully then he wiped away the dust and dirt off his clean sliver chain mail shirt and pants. As he wiped away the muck off him he sees on the ground a Heal Staff, like the ones he used during his training, he breath a sigh of relief at he picked up the staff, feeling just right in his gloved hands, it looks like he won't be completely useless if he gets into a fight. As he strapped the the staff onto his belt he notices that there's vulneraries hanging off of his belt ready to be used. Cato thanked the kidnappers for letting him things to keep him safe, with the irony going over his head of thanking his kidnappers. Cato finally decided to speak up.
"I'm Cato Mancha, Crowned Prince of Mira and your local healer~" Cato said in a bright cheery tone, he decided he would just let everybody know his title so if they want him dead they should just kill him right away, he doesn't need secrets to feel safe, since he won't feel safe until he's back home. "It is nice to you meet you, Mister Ulrich and Miss...Sigrdrífa... did I say that right?" | Cato Mancha
"Good is not a thing you are, it's a thing you do."
Cato has quite noticeable features like his short messy pink hair and reddish-pink eyes, as well as his fancy combat armor he always wear on and off the battlefield. The Armor in question isn't like traditional Lord Armor, for it consist leather shirt beneath a thin sleeveless silver chainmail tunic with a loose fitting silver and gold breastplate on top of the tunic a leather belt is tied around his waist to keep the tunic from goingg down to his knees, he wears leather pants beneath graves that have the same colors as the breastplate and lastly he has simple leather boots. While the armor looks heavy but in reality it's lighter then it looks but some pieces of the armor is a bit big on his small frame of 5'5" and 130 Ibs.
Age
Twenty-Three
Sex
Cis-Male
Weapon
Staff
Asset
Resistance
Flaw
Health
Personality
Neutral-Good
optimistic, light hearted and bright, are words people would describe Cato with. He is seen as a ray of light in the dark back in his home kingdom, many people finding comfort in his constant if at times aggressive optimism. Cato has a love for legends and stories of ancient heroes, so much he day dreams of fighting along side famous warriors and writing stories about them in secret, but he hates actual violence and hates the idea of hurting and killing people so he trained in the ways of staves to heal which he feels is the only way he can help others. But beneath his bright and cheerful outside he hides away his insecurities, particularity his fears of his kingdom's future.
Biography / History
Cato is the Prince and Heir Apparent of the Kingdom of Mira even though he's the youngest child of five. So for as long as he could remember he had always had the duties of training to become King of Mira, but luck before all that many thought lady luck wasn't on his side because Cato was a sickly child and many feared he would passed away before he even reach infancy, but with the help of many nannies and healers Cato became healthier but not healthy enough to train in the ways of weapons. But what he lacked in martial skills he made up for in personality and kindness. He was well liked by the servants and commoners he encountered, but his family feels like he is far to soft to rule over a kingdom with a steady and tough hand expected of Mirian king. A fact his sisters often reminded him of, but he was adamant about staying who he is as a person believing a king should be as kind and optimistic like in the legends his mother told him of.
While Cato lived a life of comfort, the kingdom of Mira was going though a terrible rebellion as the commoners were tired of being treated poorly by the rich and powerful. And while the King and his family wasn't the main targets of the rebellion they were still upset over the king's inaction, while in reality it was the nobility who held true power in Mira, as the nobles were ruthless and aggressive in trying to gain the king's favor, doing everything from murdering a rival noble's child or burning their estate, these fights for power often killed commoners and servants who were not involved in these power grabs and were collateral damage. The king tried everything in his power to stop the nobles, but it never lasted for more then a few days and he is forced to give favor before the rabid nobles faced their ill intent on him or his family.
When the Mirian rebellions started to become worse in his late teenhood, Cato's father commissioned a suit of armor for him to always keep on him to protect him if he ever left the castle or soon enough from assassination attempts on his life. After the first assassination attempt on his father's life Cato learned how to use a staff so he could be able to heal his family who started to be targeted by the Noble families spies.
The rebellions are still happening well into Cato's early adulthood and with the failing health of his father, it looks like Cato will soon be king of Mira, if he wants to or not. |
49,276 | 1,330 | 4 | 1,957 | 87 | Juniper Drev
Juniper never liked mornings. The sun hurting her eyes, the dry feeling in her mouth and throat, the grogginess... She groaned, feeling the surface around with her hands. Cold, dry, rough-- Wait, where was she? She opened her eyes, and pushed herself up, looking around fear, like a wild animal captured. Juniper calmed down slightly upon seeing other people around her, most of them asleep or not hostile. Juniper steadied her breath and brushed dust off her shoulder guards and chest. She tried walking towards the torch, nearly tripping on something. An axe? Nice, she had some weapon now, even though it wasn't her favourite silver. Juniper sighed and grabbed the iron weapon. It was far too dark here for her liking, but at least there were others here. They... did not look like her soldiers though. A lady knight, standing taller than anyone in cave, and two rather small boys, one holding a staff. Nice, a cleric. "Hey, I'm Juniper Drev. Any idea as to where we are?" | Juniper Drev
"I am beauty, I am grace, I will punch you in the face"i couldn't resist
Appearance
A tall, heavily-built woman, Juniper's strength rivals those of most men. She reaches nearly 190 cm in height and weighs slightly more than 85 kg. Her raven-black hair is cut short, barely reaching below her chin, and she's cut her bangs short so they don't get into her eyes. Two strands of hair frame her face, reaching down to her high cheekbones and square chin. Juniper's tanned, despite being raised in a northern country, and has brownstone eyes with a slight shade of olive. Her lips are slightly plump and she's got a slightly curved nose.
Juniper almost always wears battle gear - hers consists of a light iron chainmail, shoulder, elbow and knee guards made of steel and black leather knee-high boots.
Age
26
Sex
Cis-female, asexual
Weapon
Axe
Asset
Strength
Flaw
Magic
Personality
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral. Juniper's ethics and morals are questionable, as she is quite ruthless and prone to putting her interests first, especially if the conflict is with strangers or people whom she does not care for. She is, however, caring for her close relatives and friends and is willing to help in battle. She doesn't really care for the law and wants to find easy or effective measures to achieve her goal, however, if punishment will be dealt or benefits gained, Juniper will reluctantly follow.
She's very charismatic and self-confident, and will try to crack a joke in most situations where it's appropriate. Juniper's not the one for complex diplomacy, she prefers to solve problems through battle. It can be quite hard to stop her when she's angry or bloodthirsty. She has an affinity for good food and will probably spend most of her money on it, since she uses her gear and weapons until they wear out. Juniper believes that practice is superior to theory and will gladly spar with different people, be it mages or swordfighters.
Biography / History
The only daughter of the royal family in Yoha, a matriarchal kingdom bordering the northern sea, she was born on one of the few sunny days. Unlike her mother, an incredibly peaceful lady and a great diplomat, Juniper showed that the battlefield was more comfortable for her than conference halls during her early days. She was a fast learner, and became an army recruit at the age of 17. Her outstanding skill with an axe and speed helped her survive and escape death even during massacres, yet it lead to more mourning than one could imagine.
Her mother fell ill when Juniper reached late puberty. Despite the effort of Yoha's best doctors, she died shortly after her daughter reached 18, leaving the throne to the youngest Drev. With Juniper reigning, Yoha's politics took quite a turn to violence - their army soon almost effortlessly conquered the nearby lands, granting the kingdom more fertile soil and resources. They stopped the conquest after doubling the country's size and turning it into federation - it remained peaceful and open to foreigners ever since.
At the age of 26, Juniper still has no husband, wife or any romantic interest. There has been a significant amount of suitors coming to her reign, most of whom, if not all, were rejected and sent back, even princes of some of the biggest countries of the continent. |
49,277 | 1,330 | 5 | 1,355 | 857 | Varrus Volkanon
Darkness and silence were all encompassing. How he came to be in this state or how long was unknown to the young man. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't concerned, but oddly enough it was not for himself. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he was fearful of someone seeing him. Despite his attempts to rise, he couldn't move his groans of effort echoing in the silence. Yet, as sounds of other began to fill the room, Varrus took in a breath sharply as his eyes opened slowly. It was in this low dull light that he could make out the subtle shadows and silhouettes of others in this dimly lit interior. With a heavy groan, he'd push himself off the cold stone floor, resting on one knee before raising to his full height. Quickly he turned to those he had heard before, spotting a variety of people before him of varying statues and builds... However, something was amiss.
'No, this is not my army. What happened?' For a moment, he stared on in silence, clinching his teeth through his attempt to appear stoic, 'Where are they? Don't tell me...' Cursing in his thoughts as he stepped forward, Varrus couldn't help grow suspicious of this sudden grouping. It was then that he heard the exchange of introductions, others announcing themselves as lord and soldiers. Varrus couldn't help but chuckle, his cold and calculating nature unable to see past the possible folley of these actions.
"Forgive me for not taking part in this exchange. Introductions for courtesy's sake can often reveal privy information to those unworthy of trust." He spoke coldly and in a matter of fact tone, wearing his stoic visage as he took stock of those before him. Two females: both sporting heavy and bulkier frames from the ladies of which he was familiar, though one bore heavier and more generic armor then the slightly shorter one with an axe. The other four were males: one wearing the armor of a sellsword (or so he announced), one with a smaller frame and lighter attire, another was smaller of frame though his armor betrayed his status, and the last was very similar though with no armor to speak of. All of these details were evident, but nothing matching the designs of his homeland. Though he did not speak about his observations, he couldn't help but feel uneasy about the foreign nature of those about him. Idly resting his hand upon his sword, Varrus began scanning his surroundings as his body still faced towards the group.
"So, where are we?" He asked curtly, taking into account the layout of the room as he tried to ponder how he wound up here from- At this point, he grew wary. Why could he not recall his previous actions? Where was he before this displacement? "How is it I woke up with no memory of my travels to this place?" At this point he fell silent, looking over the group careful with a cautious stare. It did not bode well for him nor his trust in these mysterious persons, refraining from showing his disdain as his eyes now hardened to a cold stare. | Varrus Volkanon
"An army cannot stand without soldiers. I trust them to serve, and they trust me to lead them home."
Age
27
Sex
Male
Weapon
Sword
Asset
Skill
Flaw
Magic
Personality
Socially cold and stoic, many perceive Varrus to be a heartless overseer- or severely lacking in empathy. But behind the scenes, he's very considerate of his troops: often taking into consideration the projected losses and detriments to morale before making a decision that could effect them. Same goes for friends and family, though he feigns apathy to hide his empathy.
Alignment
Lawful Neutral
Biography / History
Varrus is the 7th heir in the noble Volkanon bloodline. He quickly embraced the fact he may never succeed to the head of the family, and set his mind to other pursuits. First, it was his studies, finding himself with a nose in a book. However, this quickly proved to be boring as the boy found it all to be too easy. There was no challenge, no competition, no true victory or spoils to be had. Once his studies had concluded, he quickly withdrew himself from his schooling and set out for a new objective. Almost instantly, he grew fond of mission briefings that he'd overhear and war stories that veterans recited on the streets. It was then, his focus on war became paramount. If he would not be the Head of House, he would become it's Grand General.
His fascination with war did not come without it's stigma. Many of the others his age viewed him as demented and masochistic, reading casualty reports and field manuals while simulating military movements upon a grand map. In truth, he was learning the faults of those before him to better his performance as a Leader. Every outflank, every massacre, every ambush, and every raid. These all had an answer and a reprisal in tactics, but the heat of the moment could easily sway the tide of battle. He had to be prepared for his soldiers to die, but hoping he could keep those losses to a minimum. |
49,278 | 1,330 | 6 | 2,236 | 903 | Life.
He wasn't sure what sort of state he was awakening from, but Augustus imagined it must be what death felt like. Simply... emptiness, like sleep that had no prayer of a dream. The cold stone below him was uncomfortable, but at the very least it meant he was alive. Carefully he picked himself up, noting his personal tome of magic was in his possession, and listened as the others who were gathered made introductions. It was a bizarre situation, he didn't recognize any of those who were gathered, and none of them seemed to know how exactly they came to be here. At least, if the cold warrior was to be believed.
He thought back to his studies. Surely it was some sort of magic that had brought them all together, several gathered were lords, if they were to be believed, including himself. He had practically been king, no mere kidnapper could have penetrated the mages and royal guard of the palace. However, nothing about this place, or their circumstances, triggered any memories from his teachings. Assuming they all survived long enough to do so, he would have to study this place and learn what he could. Perhaps his kingdom could put this structure to use.
Ulrich.
If it was magic that brought them all here, then that man was the likely culprit. His garb was unfamiliar, but still unmistakable as a practitioner of magic. Plus, a mercenary, as he proclaimed himself to be, would have quite the monetary motivation to capture men and women of high status. It was odd that he would intermingle with the group, but it could easily be a ploy to catch them off guard. The danger in this situation was clear, and he considered the cold warrior's judgement sound. Friendliness, however, would get one farther in strange company than being a stone.
"Edmund. Third son of Margrave Albrecht, magician by trade and noble by birth. I cannot say whether we're in my father's lands or not, I have about as much memory as the cold one here. A pleasure to meet you all regardless, at least considering the fact we're being introduced with words and not swords."
It was a calculated lie, Margrave Albrecht did indeed have a third son who was said to be talented in magic. He doubted that any of the people here had met the man. He would have preferred hiding his nobility altogether but that was be next to impossible, the mannerisms were hammered into him from birth, and his attire wasn't the least showy of those gathered. | Augustus Alsroht
"I worry about dying. Not because I fear death, but because I fear my brother managing anything more than a houseplant. I stay alive to save my people, not myself."
Standing at 5'5", he's rather short for the standard dashing image of nobility, he would argue that this is because most of his growth went to his brains instead. While simple in design, his red robes are trimmed with gold, emblazoned with a sun, surrounded by two wyverns eating each others' tails. The symbol of house Alsroht.
Age
24
Sex
Male
Weapon
Anima
Asset
Speed
Flaw
Resistance
Personality
His younger brother Keisser had always been described as wearing the cape of the royal asshole. If his brother wore the cape, Augustus wore the whole rest of the outfit. A deadpan snarker by nature, he didn't doubt that parts of his brother's personality were definitely the result of Augustus's influence over the years. The most frequent target of that snark, of course, being Keisser.
As the heir-apparent to the kingdom, the people had no idea about this of course. He was trained from a young age how to address the public, and he tried to maintain as regal an image as possible when not among people who were close to him. Being in proximity to his brother, however, tended to break the facade. Or anyone else who sufficiently annoyed him, for that matter.
He was a man who loved his country, and was filled with as much pride as was expected of a prince. It could even be said he loved his brother, although he would likely never admit that to anyone, let alone the man himself. It could be said that while his brother had the love of the army and the people, Augustus had their respect. The two, in the end, made a good team. A shame only one of them was in present company.
Alignment
Lawful Neutral: While he cares a great deal about his people, it is his belief that a king must be above the concepts of good and evil, and instead must strive to do what is best for his subjects. Law, however, superseded both concepts. It brings peace, and nothing benefits a nation more than that.
Biography / History
Being the firstborn son of the royal family, Augustus was raised from birth with the expectation that he would be the heir to the kingdom. He had always been a smart child, and gotten the attention of the kingdom's mage advisers from a young age. His brother, born just a couple years after him, showed a much larger knack for the physical duties in life, and thus caught the attention of the kingdom's wyvern knights. The two developed a (not so) friendly rivalry, reflecting the long-present divide in their nation.
Erkonne was a nation of wyvern riders, somewhat withdrawn from the rest of the world. They maintained steady trade relations with their neighbors, but mostly kept an isolationist policy, using their strong military to ward off anyone looking to take advantage of their small size and rich mines. At the upper eschelons of society there were two main forces in conflict: The military, and the mage-advisers of the king. The two battled constantly for influence over time, and indeed small civil wars had erupted under kings who were too weak to keep the factions in check. When house Alsroht came to power it put an end to the fighting: placing the military above the mages and ensuring any king who sat on the throne was also a wyvern rider. Still, to appease to mages, they added the Sun to their house sigil, representing the anima magic the kingdom's mages practiced.
Augustus was poised to tip this balance once more upon his ascension to the throne. His father was in failing health, and already the advisers were putting pressure on him to declare the military subservient to them. However, before any of this could come to a boiling point he... vanished, and found himself at The Tower. Ripped away from his family and his kingdom. |
49,279 | 1,330 | 7 | 1,542 | 359 | The noise of the others finally stirred Keaghan from his sleep. He rose from the harsh ground, about as slowly as he would on any normal morning. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, however, things quickly changed. Springing up to a standing position and readying his sword, Keaghan's glare darted between the others as he began to assess the situation.
Where am I? Have I been captured by the army?
After a few moments of no action being taken, he lowered his weapon, still radiating an uneasiness and tension not uncommon for someone thrust into an unfamiliar situation. "... What is this place?" he said in a soft but stern voice. Much like young lord who refused to share his name, Keaghan preferred to share only what was absolutely necessary about himself, when it was absolutely necessary. He scanned the walls and floor for any sign that would give away their location, but was of course unsuccessful. He then checked the ceiling, and again came up empty-handed as he peered into the seemingly endless darkness above him. Finally, he once more bounced back and forth between the others that stood before him, this time studying them more intently. | Keaghan
Just point at it and I'll make sure it stops bothering you... for the right coin, of course.
(image)
Brown hair, brown eyes, 5'8'', 170 lbs
Age
18
Sex
Male
Main Class
Mercenary
Reclass
Myrmidon, Barbarian
Personality
Chaotic Good
Confident but not brash, Keaghan exudes an aura of security and stability. Even since a young age he always approaches situations of stress with a level head and straight-forward methodology. Having said that, he is very opinionated when it comes to matters of politics and social order, and is not afraid to tell it the way he sees it; more often than not, he comes off as harsh and tactless. As a mercenary he will take jobs for the right price, but many times a noble or morally "correct" motive is enough to spur Keaghan into action. Normally stern in speech and presence, he is not however without the occasional jape or sarcastic comment to amuse others with.
Biography / History
Before arriving in this mysterious place, Keaghan was a young traveling mercenary, living off of the gold earned from odd jobs. Once in a while he'd find companionship in fellow comrades, but these bonds never lasted too long. The reasons for this line of work are simple: he was a gifted fighter from the moment he picked up a sword, and he didn't like his family very much. So, he left home at age 15 and did what he did best to get by. Recently, Keaghan has come under fire with the law of the lands, and is labeled as a wanted man. He is also being pursued by the law enforcement of his home land Alexandria. Because of this he's been turned down plenty of jobs for fear of liability issues or simply his new-found reputation. Now, Keaghan only wishes he could have a moment of peace and quiet, a rare occurrence in his now hectic life. |
49,280 | 1,330 | 8 | 1,836 | 2,639 | Ulrich Halechstin
Ulrich's heart sank when he realized that he was in the presence of many nobles. From the way the others spoke and acted, he could guess as much. In all honesty, the mercenary didn't know if he should kneel down and show them respect or do nothing but greet them back since statuses don't seem to matter right now considering that they were all trapped inside this dark room with seemingly no way out. Or at least, nothing that he couldn't currently see. He hasn't been looking around and just stood there while everyone else introduced themselves. Well from the way everyone spoke too, he knew who he could possibly stick by, at least for now.
His eyes traveled to the ground, a familiar object coming into sight. It was his knapsack. Thank God, he could practically hug the thing right now. He picked it up and began to rummage through it. His books were there and so was his inkwell and feather pen. But there were no signs of his original weaponry, replaced only by a thunder tome. Oh man, he really didn't like that. He didn't even see any of his staffs anywhere near him. Maybe it was somewhere? Some other things that he could use? From what he could see right now, there were a lot of warriors among them and only a few mages. Not that he minded.
"As for where we are and how we got here..." The boy said as he looked at the lords and other people. He could see that they were still suspicious of each other, not that Ulrich could blame them. I mean, being bunched up in a group like this so suddenly and they had no idea how they got here, of course you'd suspect the other that they were responsible. "My guess is as good as yours." He continued after a very short moment of silence. He then secured his knapsack upon his bag.
The gray haired male then proceeded to walk around, to check the walls or the floor for any kind of opening so they could escape. Of course, he expected that it wouldn't be too easy to see if there was any path. After all, it seemed like some sort of dungeon. When he didn't find anything, he would just merely look back to the others who were possibly infinitely better than him in wits. After all, a mercenary is just someone who follows orders right? And they were older than him and possibly more experienced. | Ulrich Halechstin
"They say that there is a special type of magic out there, and I strive to found out what that is."
Most would consider him small for his age, standing at a height of 5'4". He is distinct among others because of his gray hair and eyes, which is quite odd for a young boy to have. He also has childish features for someone who is nearing the age of 20. He rarely wears anything other than his signature greyish green cloak and its hood is usually seen covering his head. One other noticeable feature about him is the odd shaped tattoo under his right eye, even he is unsure of what it is. He carries around a knapsack which contains books, magical or not and other needs.
Age
19
Sex
Male
Main Class
Wizard
Reclass
Shaman and Monk
Personality
Alignment
- True Neutral
He believes himself to be a free spirit, never wanting to fully bow down to anyone besides himself. Yes, he can work for others and follow someone's orders but he believes that is because of his own decisions and he can choose to obey or disobey it as he pleases. However, if he sells his allegiance to you, he will see the contract to the bitter end. He has a great love for books, fictional or not, and tends to carry some with him wherever he goes. He takes comfort in these when in dire situations. He is nice to others and can strike up a conversation when he can. He is open-minded, not minding if someone is talking about their nefarious schemes or valiant deeds. So long as they don't attack him, he's good. He will learn anything he can as well, especially when it involves magic. His true goal is to learn everything to know about the field and expand it.
Biography / History
Ulrich wasn't quite your average citizen. In fact, he wasn't a citizen of any kingdom at all. He lived in a small village between two kingdoms inside a forest known for its notorious wolves. His village isn't normal at all. From a young age, kids were taught how to protect themselves, through sword or magic, it didn't matter. Once they've learned the basics, a mage and a physical warrior will be put in pairs and then thrown into the wilderness. Their goal is to make back to the village alive. Ulrich was paired up with a well-trained female mercenary. Her name was Valerie, or Val for short, and she was quite a skilled mercenary. Both of them had pristine teamwork despite just meeting and they were the first pair to return to the village thanks to Ulrich's memory and natural tracking ability.
They were prophesied to be a great pair of paid warriors. But Ulrich wasn't too keen on killing but he had no choice. By the age of 14, both he and Val started to travel to earn for their own. Partners were for life, even if you have a family, you will travel with them. That is the saying of their village. That is why partners are of opposite sex, because most can't live a normal life with this rule embedded in their minds. But Ulrich and Val were different, they knew that they were going to leave each other once one falls in love with another and they fully accepted it. They were out of the village so why follow right?
By the age of 18, they had travelled far from their village. At that moment, they were caught up in a war between two kingdoms. Seeing the opportunity, the sellswords sold their allegiance to both kingdoms and see who can win their bid. One had a higher price than the other so they immediately went for the 'blue kingdom' as they called it. They fought and gave it their best shot. Needless to say, they were quite a help despite being young. But the kingdom knew that if the 'red kingdom' would send a messenger to them having greater money, they will deviate and tell the other kingdom of all their plans. The King was wrong as the two were loyal but his decision was already made. That night, Ulrich went outside to read and study the stars. When he came back to the room, he saw Val, bloody, stabbed multiple times in her abdomen. Needless to say, he was enraged but he fully knew that his capabilities would not be enough to defeat all of them. With a heavy heart, he fled the kingdom.
But not before some minor revenge. He sold the information to the 'red kingdom' and needless to say, the kingdom won. Ulrich put up a proper burial for his partner and continued his quest alone. Without a trusty sword beside him, he felt vulnerable to say at least but he knew that Val would get angry if he gave up. And so he continued to hone his skills and find out more about his beloved magic. |
49,281 | 1,330 | 9 | 732 | 8,842 | Sigrdrífa Rylo
Sigrdrífa noted the reactions of the various peoples to her statement. A small smile crossed hre face at the prince's careful pronunciation of her name. "Yes Prince Cato, you got it in one. Though you may call me Rylo if you find that easier." She turned to attention to the hypocrite refusing to share his name yet asking for information. She found people like that rather irritable, but thought that now would not be the time to rebuke him for it. Sigrdrífa noted the names that were given as they were, mentally repeating them to ensure she would not forget. Luckily she'd always had a head for names. Seeing as there were only questions it was unlikely anyone knew any more than she did, or if she they were holding back. Either way that meant action would be required to gain more information. "Since none of us seem to have any recollection of our last actions or this place, I suggest we attempt to explore, I at the very least will do so." Having said so she grabbed a torch off the wall, awkwardly holding it in the same hand as her spear, and began searching for any exit or any other distinctive markings. Hopefully some of the others would take the hint and follow suit, she'd enjoy having a healer such as Prince Cato back her up and doubtless he felt the same about having a hulking mass of amour in front of him. Such was the way things were. | Sigrdrífa
Sheer muscle is nothing compared to the strength that comes from within.
Sigrdrífa is a fairly tall and strong women, as anyone who is a solider, particularly a knight, is. Without her amour she weighs in at 90 Kilos(200 pounds) and is 208 centimeters tall(6 feet 7 inches). Her hands are heavily scarred, though they are usually covered by her gloves. Her eyes are a startlingly vivid blue color. She's rarely out of her amour, which is rather bulky, to the point where anything beyond simple movements is a bit of stretch, unless she's sleeping.
Age
27
Sex
Female
Main Class
Knight
Reclass
Cleric and Mercenary
Personality
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Sigrdrífa is naturally warm-hearted and friendly, which would seem odd given her line of work. However these traits are what make her so determined so be a knight and protect others. She's interested in doing what's best for people, even if that doesn't quite fit in with what other people think. Generally Sigrdrífa doesn't have strong opinions of her own and will let others have their say, but she's keen to correct any woefully wrong and unjust things she sees.
Biography / History
Sigrdrífa was born into a family that had a long tradition of distinguished military service. Jorhan's armies relied on the Rylo family for its various excellent generals, powerful mages, and expert soldiers. The Rylo's weren't expected to serve in the military. They did serve in the military. Sigrdrífa quickly found that she had some sort of sense for tactics and naturally favored the spear. At the age of eight of course. Sigrdrífa's service had yet to promote her to more than a platoon captain but that was enough for her. She was a good leader, firm yet fair. Sigrdrífa learned what it was like to lose a friend and how to keep moving on. She never got used to that terrible feeling, but always managed to deal with it. After all, if Sigrdrífa wasn't here to protect her friends, who would be? |
49,282 | 1,330 | 10 | 1,355 | 857 | Varrus Volkanon
Varrus sighed heavily as everyone carried on with their introductions, none seeming to have knowledge of their current situation or how they arrived here. 'It's possibly a trick, but if they are telling the truth... They're in no better position then I.' As his focus shifted from the people to the room, he'd pay very close attention to the heavily armored female as she grabbed a torch from the wall. Gripping tightly onto his blade's pommel, he'd step towards her flank- though keeping in mind to stay a couple steps behind. Looking over his shoulder to those behind them, Varrus plotted and planned.
"As much as I'd like to sit and stratigize, the lady has the right idea. We have very little information where we currently are, and without anyone coming forward," At this, he'd intentionally pause. He waited a moment to see if anyone looked suspicious or wary at this remark, "The only thing we can do is find this information out on our own. Even if we run into a dead end, it's more than what we know now." As he prepared to step forward once more, a sudden revelation gave him pause. He had been in the habit of commanding soldiers, many who had seen and survived battle under his guidance... He couldn't say the same for the rest.
"If you're not familiar with a weapon or it's business end, stagger behind. Be mindful: the further you are, the longer it will take to support you. Couple yourself with a healer and cover them. They may wind up saving lives as well as your own." With that his attention would focus forward once more, his eyes scanning everything lit by the subtle light of the torch as he followed closely behind the well armored woman. | Varrus Volkanon
"An army cannot stand without soldiers. I trust them to serve, and they trust me to lead them home."
Age
27
Sex
Male
Weapon
Sword
Asset
Skill
Flaw
Magic
Personality
Socially cold and stoic, many perceive Varrus to be a heartless overseer- or severely lacking in empathy. But behind the scenes, he's very considerate of his troops: often taking into consideration the projected losses and detriments to morale before making a decision that could effect them. Same goes for friends and family, though he feigns apathy to hide his empathy.
Alignment
Lawful Neutral
Biography / History
Varrus is the 7th heir in the noble Volkanon bloodline. He quickly embraced the fact he may never succeed to the head of the family, and set his mind to other pursuits. First, it was his studies, finding himself with a nose in a book. However, this quickly proved to be boring as the boy found it all to be too easy. There was no challenge, no competition, no true victory or spoils to be had. Once his studies had concluded, he quickly withdrew himself from his schooling and set out for a new objective. Almost instantly, he grew fond of mission briefings that he'd overhear and war stories that veterans recited on the streets. It was then, his focus on war became paramount. If he would not be the Head of House, he would become it's Grand General.
His fascination with war did not come without it's stigma. Many of the others his age viewed him as demented and masochistic, reading casualty reports and field manuals while simulating military movements upon a grand map. In truth, he was learning the faults of those before him to better his performance as a Leader. Every outflank, every massacre, every ambush, and every raid. These all had an answer and a reprisal in tactics, but the heat of the moment could easily sway the tide of battle. He had to be prepared for his soldiers to die, but hoping he could keep those losses to a minimum. |
49,283 | 1,330 | 11 | 2,236 | 903 | A brief swelling of pride filled Augustus, annoyed at the thought of someone else taking charge of the situation, but he let it subside. Above all else, he was logical. If he were playing the part of a minor noble, there wasn't much use in trying to take charge like a crown prince. The risk to his life was far to great at the moment to let something as silly as pride rule his actions. Besides...
He looked over the Cold One and the woman-knight once more. Sure, Augustus had received the best training available in the kingdom and had no fear of facing an armed opponent, but those two at least appeared to have seen plenty of actual combat. It would probably be wisest, given the current situation. As much as he loathed to admit it, Keisser had always been the one suited for leading the army. Augusted lacked his... natural talent for it.
"Agreed. The longer we linger the longer we're going to be stuck... Wherever it is we are. I don't know about the rest of you, but that doesn't feel safe."
There did seem to be a certain malice in the air, or perhaps in the walls. Whatever the reason they had been gathered here he suspected it wasn't a pleasant one. Especially considering the fact that they were all armed. Just what was their purpose here?
With no answers forthcoming he shrugged, falling into line behind the Cold One. It didn't look like there were many "healers" to pair up with, so he instead went with one of the warriors. He may not be able to patch up the man's wounds, but he could pick off a weakened attacker before they could get a strike in. In theory. Aside from that, despite being as standoffish as the warrior was, he was the only one that had gained any trust from Augustus. The cold logic was something he could understand.
If his trust was misplaced, it would only mean his death. Right? | Augustus Alsroht
"I worry about dying. Not because I fear death, but because I fear my brother managing anything more than a houseplant. I stay alive to save my people, not myself."
Standing at 5'5", he's rather short for the standard dashing image of nobility, he would argue that this is because most of his growth went to his brains instead. While simple in design, his red robes are trimmed with gold, emblazoned with a sun, surrounded by two wyverns eating each others' tails. The symbol of house Alsroht.
Age
24
Sex
Male
Weapon
Anima
Asset
Speed
Flaw
Resistance
Personality
His younger brother Keisser had always been described as wearing the cape of the royal asshole. If his brother wore the cape, Augustus wore the whole rest of the outfit. A deadpan snarker by nature, he didn't doubt that parts of his brother's personality were definitely the result of Augustus's influence over the years. The most frequent target of that snark, of course, being Keisser.
As the heir-apparent to the kingdom, the people had no idea about this of course. He was trained from a young age how to address the public, and he tried to maintain as regal an image as possible when not among people who were close to him. Being in proximity to his brother, however, tended to break the facade. Or anyone else who sufficiently annoyed him, for that matter.
He was a man who loved his country, and was filled with as much pride as was expected of a prince. It could even be said he loved his brother, although he would likely never admit that to anyone, let alone the man himself. It could be said that while his brother had the love of the army and the people, Augustus had their respect. The two, in the end, made a good team. A shame only one of them was in present company.
Alignment
Lawful Neutral: While he cares a great deal about his people, it is his belief that a king must be above the concepts of good and evil, and instead must strive to do what is best for his subjects. Law, however, superseded both concepts. It brings peace, and nothing benefits a nation more than that.
Biography / History
Being the firstborn son of the royal family, Augustus was raised from birth with the expectation that he would be the heir to the kingdom. He had always been a smart child, and gotten the attention of the kingdom's mage advisers from a young age. His brother, born just a couple years after him, showed a much larger knack for the physical duties in life, and thus caught the attention of the kingdom's wyvern knights. The two developed a (not so) friendly rivalry, reflecting the long-present divide in their nation.
Erkonne was a nation of wyvern riders, somewhat withdrawn from the rest of the world. They maintained steady trade relations with their neighbors, but mostly kept an isolationist policy, using their strong military to ward off anyone looking to take advantage of their small size and rich mines. At the upper eschelons of society there were two main forces in conflict: The military, and the mage-advisers of the king. The two battled constantly for influence over time, and indeed small civil wars had erupted under kings who were too weak to keep the factions in check. When house Alsroht came to power it put an end to the fighting: placing the military above the mages and ensuring any king who sat on the throne was also a wyvern rider. Still, to appease to mages, they added the Sun to their house sigil, representing the anima magic the kingdom's mages practiced.
Augustus was poised to tip this balance once more upon his ascension to the throne. His father was in failing health, and already the advisers were putting pressure on him to declare the military subservient to them. However, before any of this could come to a boiling point he... vanished, and found himself at The Tower. Ripped away from his family and his kingdom. |
49,284 | 1,330 | 12 | 1,957 | 87 | Juniper glanced at her companions. There were quite a lot of nobles - some mentioned kingdoms she knew, and of others she had never heard of. Perhaps it was best to keep her identity secret for a while, except for her name. If others knew the Drev family, they'd tell. She was, however, slightly suspicious of the purple-haired swordfighter. Or annoyed by him, perhaps. Unworthy of information? Juniper sighed, thinking of what nickname she could give him.
Sigrdrifa and the haughty swordfighter took the lead. Juniper tried to keep close to them, as they had the torch, and looked around cautiously. No sign of exit so far. Damn it. How long was this dungeon, anyway? | Juniper Drev
"I am beauty, I am grace, I will punch you in the face"i couldn't resist
Appearance
A tall, heavily-built woman, Juniper's strength rivals those of most men. She reaches nearly 190 cm in height and weighs slightly more than 85 kg. Her raven-black hair is cut short, barely reaching below her chin, and she's cut her bangs short so they don't get into her eyes. Two strands of hair frame her face, reaching down to her high cheekbones and square chin. Juniper's tanned, despite being raised in a northern country, and has brownstone eyes with a slight shade of olive. Her lips are slightly plump and she's got a slightly curved nose.
Juniper almost always wears battle gear - hers consists of a light iron chainmail, shoulder, elbow and knee guards made of steel and black leather knee-high boots.
Age
26
Sex
Cis-female, asexual
Weapon
Axe
Asset
Strength
Flaw
Magic
Personality
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral. Juniper's ethics and morals are questionable, as she is quite ruthless and prone to putting her interests first, especially if the conflict is with strangers or people whom she does not care for. She is, however, caring for her close relatives and friends and is willing to help in battle. She doesn't really care for the law and wants to find easy or effective measures to achieve her goal, however, if punishment will be dealt or benefits gained, Juniper will reluctantly follow.
She's very charismatic and self-confident, and will try to crack a joke in most situations where it's appropriate. Juniper's not the one for complex diplomacy, she prefers to solve problems through battle. It can be quite hard to stop her when she's angry or bloodthirsty. She has an affinity for good food and will probably spend most of her money on it, since she uses her gear and weapons until they wear out. Juniper believes that practice is superior to theory and will gladly spar with different people, be it mages or swordfighters.
Biography / History
The only daughter of the royal family in Yoha, a matriarchal kingdom bordering the northern sea, she was born on one of the few sunny days. Unlike her mother, an incredibly peaceful lady and a great diplomat, Juniper showed that the battlefield was more comfortable for her than conference halls during her early days. She was a fast learner, and became an army recruit at the age of 17. Her outstanding skill with an axe and speed helped her survive and escape death even during massacres, yet it lead to more mourning than one could imagine.
Her mother fell ill when Juniper reached late puberty. Despite the effort of Yoha's best doctors, she died shortly after her daughter reached 18, leaving the throne to the youngest Drev. With Juniper reigning, Yoha's politics took quite a turn to violence - their army soon almost effortlessly conquered the nearby lands, granting the kingdom more fertile soil and resources. They stopped the conquest after doubling the country's size and turning it into federation - it remained peaceful and open to foreigners ever since.
At the age of 26, Juniper still has no husband, wife or any romantic interest. There has been a significant amount of suitors coming to her reign, most of whom, if not all, were rejected and sent back, even princes of some of the biggest countries of the continent. |
49,285 | 1,330 | 13 | 1,380 | 1,423 | As the party explored the room, they were unable to find any sort of doors or other portals along the circular dungeon's edges. The scarce torchlight masked several patches of the walls in darkness, but Sigrdrífa's decision to bare a torch granted them what seemed to be the key as they passed along these darkened areas. Each of the four unlit regions of wall revealed text etched into the otherwise featureless slate stating thus;
---
Silence the cries
Made by the dance
Of the
Tireless ones.
Here they stand with desperate pacifism.
Engulfed you are by their aura,
Roaring quietly.
But first, retrace your steps...
---
In the wall she sat weeping.
And with each tear her life went seeping.
---
EMBRACE
---
It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt.
And empty holes it fills.
It comes first and follows after,
Ends life, kills laughter.
--- | The Cast
Player Army
Cato Mancha played by
Varrus Volkanon played by
Juniper Drev played by
Augustus Alsroht played by
Ulrich Halechstin played by
Sigrdrífa Rylo played by
Keghan played by |
49,286 | 1,330 | 14 | 1,355 | 857 | Varrus Volkanon
Varrus followed along in cautious silence, his eyes doing their best to capture the details of this strange environment from the dull light of the torch. Even now, he was wary of traps and possible misdirection, but (for now at least) it seemed they were stuck in a tower or rounded dungeon of some sort. As they came to a stopping point, Varrus began to take note of what seemed like etching on the walls. He wasted no time in approaching the etching (or at least enough to read them); reading the verses out loud in a soft and thoughtful tone that seemed to betray his earlier demeanor.
After reading the first verse; Varrus was slightly confused by it's meaning. It seemed to be a set of directions or a vague riddle... Even now he began looking about the room for possible signs of glinting light or ominous figures. Then, something cliked inside of his head. Roar, Dancing, and aura. Granted the last was merely an educated guess based on the first, but they seemed to be things that described an open fire or flame. At this point his attention diverted to the torch in the Armored Woman's hands, staring at it with now narrowed eyes. 'Why the torches?' He turned back to the inscriptions as he continued to read. The second verse could very easily describe a torch, however the flame bearing sticks did not drip unless one referred to it's embers.
However, despite his best efforts, Varrus could not determine the benefits of torches in their escape. The room hand no exits and appeared to be made of some sort of stone- or likewise substance. It wasn't as if they could burn down their prison; and even if they did, they risk losing their lives in the ensuing inferno. With a subtle growl and gritting of his teeth, the young man rounded as he faced the group.
"Well, these torches hold the key to our salvation in some manner. What good they do other then to light the way around a sealed room, I'm not entirely sure." His voice had it's usual curt undertone, though he seemed a bit more thoughtful in his remarks. Internally, he was disappointed in himself for not having the answers off hand, but had resigned to relying on the group for thoughts and ideas, "We cannot set fire to this place, nor does there seem to be any other fixture of which to arrange them. Suggestions?" | Varrus Volkanon
"An army cannot stand without soldiers. I trust them to serve, and they trust me to lead them home."
Age
27
Sex
Male
Weapon
Sword
Asset
Skill
Flaw
Magic
Personality
Socially cold and stoic, many perceive Varrus to be a heartless overseer- or severely lacking in empathy. But behind the scenes, he's very considerate of his troops: often taking into consideration the projected losses and detriments to morale before making a decision that could effect them. Same goes for friends and family, though he feigns apathy to hide his empathy.
Alignment
Lawful Neutral
Biography / History
Varrus is the 7th heir in the noble Volkanon bloodline. He quickly embraced the fact he may never succeed to the head of the family, and set his mind to other pursuits. First, it was his studies, finding himself with a nose in a book. However, this quickly proved to be boring as the boy found it all to be too easy. There was no challenge, no competition, no true victory or spoils to be had. Once his studies had concluded, he quickly withdrew himself from his schooling and set out for a new objective. Almost instantly, he grew fond of mission briefings that he'd overhear and war stories that veterans recited on the streets. It was then, his focus on war became paramount. If he would not be the Head of House, he would become it's Grand General.
His fascination with war did not come without it's stigma. Many of the others his age viewed him as demented and masochistic, reading casualty reports and field manuals while simulating military movements upon a grand map. In truth, he was learning the faults of those before him to better his performance as a Leader. Every outflank, every massacre, every ambush, and every raid. These all had an answer and a reprisal in tactics, but the heat of the moment could easily sway the tide of battle. He had to be prepared for his soldiers to die, but hoping he could keep those losses to a minimum. |
49,287 | 1,330 | 15 | 1,542 | 359 | Listening to Varrus speak, Keaghan examined the engravings himself. He moved his hand over the letters in the wall, the slime of moss and mildew gleaning over his fingertips. As he moved toward one of the torches he rubbed the substance off his fingers with the side of his pants. "Yes, that makes sense for the second poem to refer to a torch". He then pointed to the fourth and continued, "This one is interesting. The thing being described defies all of the senses, but I can't think of any such thing. Whatever it is, it can't be all that great if it kills laughter". Keaghan crossed his arms and lowered his chin in contemplation, trying to work out the solution but experiencing great difficulty. "What do you all make of it?" | Keaghan
Just point at it and I'll make sure it stops bothering you... for the right coin, of course.
(image)
Brown hair, brown eyes, 5'8'', 170 lbs
Age
18
Sex
Male
Main Class
Mercenary
Reclass
Myrmidon, Barbarian
Personality
Chaotic Good
Confident but not brash, Keaghan exudes an aura of security and stability. Even since a young age he always approaches situations of stress with a level head and straight-forward methodology. Having said that, he is very opinionated when it comes to matters of politics and social order, and is not afraid to tell it the way he sees it; more often than not, he comes off as harsh and tactless. As a mercenary he will take jobs for the right price, but many times a noble or morally "correct" motive is enough to spur Keaghan into action. Normally stern in speech and presence, he is not however without the occasional jape or sarcastic comment to amuse others with.
Biography / History
Before arriving in this mysterious place, Keaghan was a young traveling mercenary, living off of the gold earned from odd jobs. Once in a while he'd find companionship in fellow comrades, but these bonds never lasted too long. The reasons for this line of work are simple: he was a gifted fighter from the moment he picked up a sword, and he didn't like his family very much. So, he left home at age 15 and did what he did best to get by. Recently, Keaghan has come under fire with the law of the lands, and is labeled as a wanted man. He is also being pursued by the law enforcement of his home land Alexandria. Because of this he's been turned down plenty of jobs for fear of liability issues or simply his new-found reputation. Now, Keaghan only wishes he could have a moment of peace and quiet, a rare occurrence in his now hectic life. |
49,288 | 1,330 | 16 | 1,836 | 2,639 | Ulrich Halechstin
When they started moving, Ulrich scrambled towards the back of the line. He maintained quite a distance from the cold warriors who refused to give their names. Not because he found the untrustworthy but he was more or less intimidated by them. Well, he always bowed in the face of royalty and unlike the people who aren't nobles, he wasn't a knight. He didn't fit in any kingdom. Precisely why their lands from where they were from sounded familiar.
He got a good look of the riddle before falling back to the back of the group. He wasn't one for riddles. He favors books, yes, but when it comes to riddles and the sorts, he just becomes lost. He took things way too literally for his own good. Well they said that it was the torches that's the answer to the riddle. Now what would they do with it? Seems he'll be thinking a lot more before he got it so he just didn't attract any attention to himself. Being small really helped with that. | Ulrich Halechstin
"They say that there is a special type of magic out there, and I strive to found out what that is."
Most would consider him small for his age, standing at a height of 5'4". He is distinct among others because of his gray hair and eyes, which is quite odd for a young boy to have. He also has childish features for someone who is nearing the age of 20. He rarely wears anything other than his signature greyish green cloak and its hood is usually seen covering his head. One other noticeable feature about him is the odd shaped tattoo under his right eye, even he is unsure of what it is. He carries around a knapsack which contains books, magical or not and other needs.
Age
19
Sex
Male
Main Class
Wizard
Reclass
Shaman and Monk
Personality
Alignment
- True Neutral
He believes himself to be a free spirit, never wanting to fully bow down to anyone besides himself. Yes, he can work for others and follow someone's orders but he believes that is because of his own decisions and he can choose to obey or disobey it as he pleases. However, if he sells his allegiance to you, he will see the contract to the bitter end. He has a great love for books, fictional or not, and tends to carry some with him wherever he goes. He takes comfort in these when in dire situations. He is nice to others and can strike up a conversation when he can. He is open-minded, not minding if someone is talking about their nefarious schemes or valiant deeds. So long as they don't attack him, he's good. He will learn anything he can as well, especially when it involves magic. His true goal is to learn everything to know about the field and expand it.
Biography / History
Ulrich wasn't quite your average citizen. In fact, he wasn't a citizen of any kingdom at all. He lived in a small village between two kingdoms inside a forest known for its notorious wolves. His village isn't normal at all. From a young age, kids were taught how to protect themselves, through sword or magic, it didn't matter. Once they've learned the basics, a mage and a physical warrior will be put in pairs and then thrown into the wilderness. Their goal is to make back to the village alive. Ulrich was paired up with a well-trained female mercenary. Her name was Valerie, or Val for short, and she was quite a skilled mercenary. Both of them had pristine teamwork despite just meeting and they were the first pair to return to the village thanks to Ulrich's memory and natural tracking ability.
They were prophesied to be a great pair of paid warriors. But Ulrich wasn't too keen on killing but he had no choice. By the age of 14, both he and Val started to travel to earn for their own. Partners were for life, even if you have a family, you will travel with them. That is the saying of their village. That is why partners are of opposite sex, because most can't live a normal life with this rule embedded in their minds. But Ulrich and Val were different, they knew that they were going to leave each other once one falls in love with another and they fully accepted it. They were out of the village so why follow right?
By the age of 18, they had travelled far from their village. At that moment, they were caught up in a war between two kingdoms. Seeing the opportunity, the sellswords sold their allegiance to both kingdoms and see who can win their bid. One had a higher price than the other so they immediately went for the 'blue kingdom' as they called it. They fought and gave it their best shot. Needless to say, they were quite a help despite being young. But the kingdom knew that if the 'red kingdom' would send a messenger to them having greater money, they will deviate and tell the other kingdom of all their plans. The King was wrong as the two were loyal but his decision was already made. That night, Ulrich went outside to read and study the stars. When he came back to the room, he saw Val, bloody, stabbed multiple times in her abdomen. Needless to say, he was enraged but he fully knew that his capabilities would not be enough to defeat all of them. With a heavy heart, he fled the kingdom.
But not before some minor revenge. He sold the information to the 'red kingdom' and needless to say, the kingdom won. Ulrich put up a proper burial for his partner and continued his quest alone. Without a trusty sword beside him, he felt vulnerable to say at least but he knew that Val would get angry if he gave up. And so he continued to hone his skills and find out more about his beloved magic. |
49,289 | 1,330 | 17 | 1,957 | 87 | Juniper groaned when she saw the writings on the wall. She was not the one for intellectual activity, although there was still hope that her mother's cleverness passed down to her. There were three poems, and she focused on the last one. "Something that can't be heard or smelt... I think of light, but it's something you can see or feel. Is there anything unlike it?" She paced back and forth around the dungeon they were in, muttering. "Cannot be seen, cannot be heard, cannot be heard, cannot be smelt... What the heck is it?"
It seems that all others focused on the riddles as well - some speaking their thoughts out loud, like the two men whose names she didn't know, others remaining silent, like Sigrdrifa and Ulrich. Juniper stopped near the brown-haired merc and rubbed the back of her neck. "Any ideas on what this could be?" | Juniper Drev
"I am beauty, I am grace, I will punch you in the face"i couldn't resist
Appearance
A tall, heavily-built woman, Juniper's strength rivals those of most men. She reaches nearly 190 cm in height and weighs slightly more than 85 kg. Her raven-black hair is cut short, barely reaching below her chin, and she's cut her bangs short so they don't get into her eyes. Two strands of hair frame her face, reaching down to her high cheekbones and square chin. Juniper's tanned, despite being raised in a northern country, and has brownstone eyes with a slight shade of olive. Her lips are slightly plump and she's got a slightly curved nose.
Juniper almost always wears battle gear - hers consists of a light iron chainmail, shoulder, elbow and knee guards made of steel and black leather knee-high boots.
Age
26
Sex
Cis-female, asexual
Weapon
Axe
Asset
Strength
Flaw
Magic
Personality
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral. Juniper's ethics and morals are questionable, as she is quite ruthless and prone to putting her interests first, especially if the conflict is with strangers or people whom she does not care for. She is, however, caring for her close relatives and friends and is willing to help in battle. She doesn't really care for the law and wants to find easy or effective measures to achieve her goal, however, if punishment will be dealt or benefits gained, Juniper will reluctantly follow.
She's very charismatic and self-confident, and will try to crack a joke in most situations where it's appropriate. Juniper's not the one for complex diplomacy, she prefers to solve problems through battle. It can be quite hard to stop her when she's angry or bloodthirsty. She has an affinity for good food and will probably spend most of her money on it, since she uses her gear and weapons until they wear out. Juniper believes that practice is superior to theory and will gladly spar with different people, be it mages or swordfighters.
Biography / History
The only daughter of the royal family in Yoha, a matriarchal kingdom bordering the northern sea, she was born on one of the few sunny days. Unlike her mother, an incredibly peaceful lady and a great diplomat, Juniper showed that the battlefield was more comfortable for her than conference halls during her early days. She was a fast learner, and became an army recruit at the age of 17. Her outstanding skill with an axe and speed helped her survive and escape death even during massacres, yet it lead to more mourning than one could imagine.
Her mother fell ill when Juniper reached late puberty. Despite the effort of Yoha's best doctors, she died shortly after her daughter reached 18, leaving the throne to the youngest Drev. With Juniper reigning, Yoha's politics took quite a turn to violence - their army soon almost effortlessly conquered the nearby lands, granting the kingdom more fertile soil and resources. They stopped the conquest after doubling the country's size and turning it into federation - it remained peaceful and open to foreigners ever since.
At the age of 26, Juniper still has no husband, wife or any romantic interest. There has been a significant amount of suitors coming to her reign, most of whom, if not all, were rejected and sent back, even princes of some of the biggest countries of the continent. |
49,290 | 1,330 | 18 | 2,236 | 903 | Ah yes, there was certainly magic in the air, although the details of this place didn't ring a bell. Augustus half listened to the others around him as he thought, studying the words. It wasn't their meanings he was focusing on, but rather their purpose. How did solving them connect to getting out of this place? Some of the answers were relatively easy, as for others...
"Torch. Torches."
He called quietly, waiting for some sort of response. He was sure at the very least that was the answer to the second riddle. As it became abundantly clear that nothing was going to happen, he sat on the cold stone floor, cupping his chin in his hand as he pondered. The answers alone didn't matter? Assuming it wasn't all a game designed to give them false hope, then what did it mean? Four riddles...
With a snap of his fingers he stood up, raising his voice:
"I think they're some set of instructions! See that second one there? I'm quite sure the answer has to be a torch, or torches, but simply having the answer didn't do much. There has to be a purpose to have four of them, laid out as such. I think the answers go together. Maybe it's something we have to do or at least some sort of phrase we have to arrange."
Cupping his chin in his hand once more, Augustus began pacing back and forth, muttering to himself.
"As for what that phrase or set of instructions is..." | Augustus Alsroht
"I worry about dying. Not because I fear death, but because I fear my brother managing anything more than a houseplant. I stay alive to save my people, not myself."
Standing at 5'5", he's rather short for the standard dashing image of nobility, he would argue that this is because most of his growth went to his brains instead. While simple in design, his red robes are trimmed with gold, emblazoned with a sun, surrounded by two wyverns eating each others' tails. The symbol of house Alsroht.
Age
24
Sex
Male
Weapon
Anima
Asset
Speed
Flaw
Resistance
Personality
His younger brother Keisser had always been described as wearing the cape of the royal asshole. If his brother wore the cape, Augustus wore the whole rest of the outfit. A deadpan snarker by nature, he didn't doubt that parts of his brother's personality were definitely the result of Augustus's influence over the years. The most frequent target of that snark, of course, being Keisser.
As the heir-apparent to the kingdom, the people had no idea about this of course. He was trained from a young age how to address the public, and he tried to maintain as regal an image as possible when not among people who were close to him. Being in proximity to his brother, however, tended to break the facade. Or anyone else who sufficiently annoyed him, for that matter.
He was a man who loved his country, and was filled with as much pride as was expected of a prince. It could even be said he loved his brother, although he would likely never admit that to anyone, let alone the man himself. It could be said that while his brother had the love of the army and the people, Augustus had their respect. The two, in the end, made a good team. A shame only one of them was in present company.
Alignment
Lawful Neutral: While he cares a great deal about his people, it is his belief that a king must be above the concepts of good and evil, and instead must strive to do what is best for his subjects. Law, however, superseded both concepts. It brings peace, and nothing benefits a nation more than that.
Biography / History
Being the firstborn son of the royal family, Augustus was raised from birth with the expectation that he would be the heir to the kingdom. He had always been a smart child, and gotten the attention of the kingdom's mage advisers from a young age. His brother, born just a couple years after him, showed a much larger knack for the physical duties in life, and thus caught the attention of the kingdom's wyvern knights. The two developed a (not so) friendly rivalry, reflecting the long-present divide in their nation.
Erkonne was a nation of wyvern riders, somewhat withdrawn from the rest of the world. They maintained steady trade relations with their neighbors, but mostly kept an isolationist policy, using their strong military to ward off anyone looking to take advantage of their small size and rich mines. At the upper eschelons of society there were two main forces in conflict: The military, and the mage-advisers of the king. The two battled constantly for influence over time, and indeed small civil wars had erupted under kings who were too weak to keep the factions in check. When house Alsroht came to power it put an end to the fighting: placing the military above the mages and ensuring any king who sat on the throne was also a wyvern rider. Still, to appease to mages, they added the Sun to their house sigil, representing the anima magic the kingdom's mages practiced.
Augustus was poised to tip this balance once more upon his ascension to the throne. His father was in failing health, and already the advisers were putting pressure on him to declare the military subservient to them. However, before any of this could come to a boiling point he... vanished, and found himself at The Tower. Ripped away from his family and his kingdom. |
49,291 | 1,330 | 19 | 732 | 8,842 | Sigrdrífa Rylo
Sigrdrífa shrugged. Stereotypical as it was, she wasn't much good for riddles. Give her a good tactical problem or some weights and she was good, but this sort of abstract reasoning was a little beyond her. Frankly she probably wouldn't have even figured out that torches were a part of it. Sigrdrífa peered at the riddles once more trying to make any sense of it. There was no way to retrace their steps, it was very clear they had no idea how they got here and what good retracing their steps in this room would be. "The only thing I can think of that ends life but can't be sensed would be some sort of magic or poison." Sigrdrífa offered before falling silent. It seemed the others could probably figure it out through brainstorming it so she wasn't terribly worried. | Sigrdrífa
Sheer muscle is nothing compared to the strength that comes from within.
Sigrdrífa is a fairly tall and strong women, as anyone who is a solider, particularly a knight, is. Without her amour she weighs in at 90 Kilos(200 pounds) and is 208 centimeters tall(6 feet 7 inches). Her hands are heavily scarred, though they are usually covered by her gloves. Her eyes are a startlingly vivid blue color. She's rarely out of her amour, which is rather bulky, to the point where anything beyond simple movements is a bit of stretch, unless she's sleeping.
Age
27
Sex
Female
Main Class
Knight
Reclass
Cleric and Mercenary
Personality
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Sigrdrífa is naturally warm-hearted and friendly, which would seem odd given her line of work. However these traits are what make her so determined so be a knight and protect others. She's interested in doing what's best for people, even if that doesn't quite fit in with what other people think. Generally Sigrdrífa doesn't have strong opinions of her own and will let others have their say, but she's keen to correct any woefully wrong and unjust things she sees.
Biography / History
Sigrdrífa was born into a family that had a long tradition of distinguished military service. Jorhan's armies relied on the Rylo family for its various excellent generals, powerful mages, and expert soldiers. The Rylo's weren't expected to serve in the military. They did serve in the military. Sigrdrífa quickly found that she had some sort of sense for tactics and naturally favored the spear. At the age of eight of course. Sigrdrífa's service had yet to promote her to more than a platoon captain but that was enough for her. She was a good leader, firm yet fair. Sigrdrífa learned what it was like to lose a friend and how to keep moving on. She never got used to that terrible feeling, but always managed to deal with it. After all, if Sigrdrífa wasn't here to protect her friends, who would be? |
49,292 | 1,330 | 20 | 1,355 | 857 | Varrus Volkanon
Varrus sighed heavily as he lifted a hand to bridge of his nose, pinching it between his index finger and thumb. It was one thing to not be able to solve a riddle like this, but it was another when lives were possibly at stake- not excluding his own. It was then that his vision fell to the engraving as his hand returned to the pommel at his side.
"Well, we know it has something to do with the torches and where we began. We should make our way back and examine the area," He stated, turning back to face the way they came as he began to trek past those about him. He continued on in silence as his vision focused forward... In his mind however, his thoughts would begin to pour over the information given to him. The speculation of the others reinforce what he originally thought about the torches, but the remainder of the riddle still evade him.
Or should he say, partial riddle. The third partition merely said embrace, and the forth spoke of something all consuming. His first venture was death, but death has no mass... It cannot fill a hole. A hole? At this, Varrus paused a moment, looking over his shoulder back to the inscription for a moment as he paused in his steps. Something unlike the light that can fill a hole.
At this notion, Varrus looked between those in the group around him, "Something unlike the Light that puts an end to laughter and fills holes. At first I was thinking of something with mass, but what if I'm wrong?" His gaze began to flicker to the unlit areas of the room as his brain began to formulate a plan, "I think the answer is closer than we think. Light is all encompassing, yes, but it can be seen and usually bolsters the mood of people within it. However, it's opposite can bring fear and terror to some, while swallowing all within it's reach. Not to mention the cliche wording of the third and forth phrase if I'm right, but..." Varrus paused a moment as he turned back towards the original torches, though making no movement, "What if the answer is darkness?" | Varrus Volkanon
"An army cannot stand without soldiers. I trust them to serve, and they trust me to lead them home."
Age
27
Sex
Male
Weapon
Sword
Asset
Skill
Flaw
Magic
Personality
Socially cold and stoic, many perceive Varrus to be a heartless overseer- or severely lacking in empathy. But behind the scenes, he's very considerate of his troops: often taking into consideration the projected losses and detriments to morale before making a decision that could effect them. Same goes for friends and family, though he feigns apathy to hide his empathy.
Alignment
Lawful Neutral
Biography / History
Varrus is the 7th heir in the noble Volkanon bloodline. He quickly embraced the fact he may never succeed to the head of the family, and set his mind to other pursuits. First, it was his studies, finding himself with a nose in a book. However, this quickly proved to be boring as the boy found it all to be too easy. There was no challenge, no competition, no true victory or spoils to be had. Once his studies had concluded, he quickly withdrew himself from his schooling and set out for a new objective. Almost instantly, he grew fond of mission briefings that he'd overhear and war stories that veterans recited on the streets. It was then, his focus on war became paramount. If he would not be the Head of House, he would become it's Grand General.
His fascination with war did not come without it's stigma. Many of the others his age viewed him as demented and masochistic, reading casualty reports and field manuals while simulating military movements upon a grand map. In truth, he was learning the faults of those before him to better his performance as a Leader. Every outflank, every massacre, every ambush, and every raid. These all had an answer and a reprisal in tactics, but the heat of the moment could easily sway the tide of battle. He had to be prepared for his soldiers to die, but hoping he could keep those losses to a minimum. |
49,293 | 1,330 | 21 | 1,957 | 87 | Darkness?
The idea was bizarre - after all, there was no source of light in the dry room other than torches. As they knew, torches were related to their riddle. Torches, darkness, torches, darkness... She walked around the room, pondering. Everything still itched after her nap on the ground, but she needed to focus now, of all times.
Then something clicked. Juniper turned around abruptly and looked at the torches in Rylo's hands. No. No. This could not be their answer.
"There's only one thing that we'd get from combining torches and darkness. And hell no, I'm not putting them out." | Juniper Drev
"I am beauty, I am grace, I will punch you in the face"i couldn't resist
Appearance
A tall, heavily-built woman, Juniper's strength rivals those of most men. She reaches nearly 190 cm in height and weighs slightly more than 85 kg. Her raven-black hair is cut short, barely reaching below her chin, and she's cut her bangs short so they don't get into her eyes. Two strands of hair frame her face, reaching down to her high cheekbones and square chin. Juniper's tanned, despite being raised in a northern country, and has brownstone eyes with a slight shade of olive. Her lips are slightly plump and she's got a slightly curved nose.
Juniper almost always wears battle gear - hers consists of a light iron chainmail, shoulder, elbow and knee guards made of steel and black leather knee-high boots.
Age
26
Sex
Cis-female, asexual
Weapon
Axe
Asset
Strength
Flaw
Magic
Personality
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral. Juniper's ethics and morals are questionable, as she is quite ruthless and prone to putting her interests first, especially if the conflict is with strangers or people whom she does not care for. She is, however, caring for her close relatives and friends and is willing to help in battle. She doesn't really care for the law and wants to find easy or effective measures to achieve her goal, however, if punishment will be dealt or benefits gained, Juniper will reluctantly follow.
She's very charismatic and self-confident, and will try to crack a joke in most situations where it's appropriate. Juniper's not the one for complex diplomacy, she prefers to solve problems through battle. It can be quite hard to stop her when she's angry or bloodthirsty. She has an affinity for good food and will probably spend most of her money on it, since she uses her gear and weapons until they wear out. Juniper believes that practice is superior to theory and will gladly spar with different people, be it mages or swordfighters.
Biography / History
The only daughter of the royal family in Yoha, a matriarchal kingdom bordering the northern sea, she was born on one of the few sunny days. Unlike her mother, an incredibly peaceful lady and a great diplomat, Juniper showed that the battlefield was more comfortable for her than conference halls during her early days. She was a fast learner, and became an army recruit at the age of 17. Her outstanding skill with an axe and speed helped her survive and escape death even during massacres, yet it lead to more mourning than one could imagine.
Her mother fell ill when Juniper reached late puberty. Despite the effort of Yoha's best doctors, she died shortly after her daughter reached 18, leaving the throne to the youngest Drev. With Juniper reigning, Yoha's politics took quite a turn to violence - their army soon almost effortlessly conquered the nearby lands, granting the kingdom more fertile soil and resources. They stopped the conquest after doubling the country's size and turning it into federation - it remained peaceful and open to foreigners ever since.
At the age of 26, Juniper still has no husband, wife or any romantic interest. There has been a significant amount of suitors coming to her reign, most of whom, if not all, were rejected and sent back, even princes of some of the biggest countries of the continent. |
49,294 | 1,330 | 22 | 732 | 8,842 | Sigrdrífa Rylo
Sigrdrífa tilted her head curiously. It made sense in that twisted sort of sense that riddles did. Juniper seemed violently opposed to the next logical conclusion but Sigrdrífa didn't think the concern was valid. "Now now, no need to overreact. I believe we have at least a mage with us no? Most mages have the ability to create fire from what little I know of magic. Therefor does it not stand to reason that we should put out the torches? If the answers to the riddles form a command than it would form something along the lines of, 'torches something embrace darkness'. If nothing happens we have lost nothing, if it is the answer than we have advanced." Having outlined her arguement in a logical manner Sigrdrífa fell silent. Personally the darkness was not such a thing to fear in her opinion altogether but that was a matter of personal preference. Sigrdrífa held her torch angled towards the wall suggestively, as though she were to grind it out against the wall, and awaited a response to her suggestion. | Sigrdrífa
Sheer muscle is nothing compared to the strength that comes from within.
Sigrdrífa is a fairly tall and strong women, as anyone who is a solider, particularly a knight, is. Without her amour she weighs in at 90 Kilos(200 pounds) and is 208 centimeters tall(6 feet 7 inches). Her hands are heavily scarred, though they are usually covered by her gloves. Her eyes are a startlingly vivid blue color. She's rarely out of her amour, which is rather bulky, to the point where anything beyond simple movements is a bit of stretch, unless she's sleeping.
Age
27
Sex
Female
Main Class
Knight
Reclass
Cleric and Mercenary
Personality
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Sigrdrífa is naturally warm-hearted and friendly, which would seem odd given her line of work. However these traits are what make her so determined so be a knight and protect others. She's interested in doing what's best for people, even if that doesn't quite fit in with what other people think. Generally Sigrdrífa doesn't have strong opinions of her own and will let others have their say, but she's keen to correct any woefully wrong and unjust things she sees.
Biography / History
Sigrdrífa was born into a family that had a long tradition of distinguished military service. Jorhan's armies relied on the Rylo family for its various excellent generals, powerful mages, and expert soldiers. The Rylo's weren't expected to serve in the military. They did serve in the military. Sigrdrífa quickly found that she had some sort of sense for tactics and naturally favored the spear. At the age of eight of course. Sigrdrífa's service had yet to promote her to more than a platoon captain but that was enough for her. She was a good leader, firm yet fair. Sigrdrífa learned what it was like to lose a friend and how to keep moving on. She never got used to that terrible feeling, but always managed to deal with it. After all, if Sigrdrífa wasn't here to protect her friends, who would be? |
49,295 | 1,330 | 23 | 2,236 | 903 | Or something does happen, and we all die horrible deaths.
Augustus added dryly, it seemed pretty clear to him at this point what they were meant to do. He didn't suppose the answer was just an elaborate way to kill themselves, it didn't make much sense in the end. Furthermore, while it seemed like an absolute waste of magical ability to just make some light with it, Sigrdrífa was right in that it was possible. Simple even.
"Still, best case scenario at this point is we're trapped here a few days until we run out of water and die anyway. I, for one, would rather take a chance at not having that happen."
He walked over to the axe wielding woman and placed a hand on her shoulder. He wasn't particularly used to trying to sound reassuring, but a ruler needed at least some kind of charisma if he expected to inspire his people. It was something that had been drilled into Augustus since birth. He tried to slip into that role briefly, it wouldn't do for them to be divided on important decisions.
"You're... Juniper, right? What the lady knight speaks is true, if we need light again once the torches are out, I will see to it myself that we have some. I believe, however, that putting them out is our best option for moving forward."
He nodded to the cold warrior as he finished speaking, as if to urge him on. He didn't know if this Juniper woman was afraid of the dark, or simply in disagreement, but he hoped his words got through to her. Sure, he wasn't exactly a figure that gave off an aura of protection, like Sigrdrífa or the cold warrior, a strong imposing man. However, this Juniper woman looked strong enough to hold her own in a fight anyway. She certainly didn't look like she needed "protecting" by any measure.
In fact, if it came to a fight, it was likely Augustus who would need her in that sort of role. | Augustus Alsroht
"I worry about dying. Not because I fear death, but because I fear my brother managing anything more than a houseplant. I stay alive to save my people, not myself."
Standing at 5'5", he's rather short for the standard dashing image of nobility, he would argue that this is because most of his growth went to his brains instead. While simple in design, his red robes are trimmed with gold, emblazoned with a sun, surrounded by two wyverns eating each others' tails. The symbol of house Alsroht.
Age
24
Sex
Male
Weapon
Anima
Asset
Speed
Flaw
Resistance
Personality
His younger brother Keisser had always been described as wearing the cape of the royal asshole. If his brother wore the cape, Augustus wore the whole rest of the outfit. A deadpan snarker by nature, he didn't doubt that parts of his brother's personality were definitely the result of Augustus's influence over the years. The most frequent target of that snark, of course, being Keisser.
As the heir-apparent to the kingdom, the people had no idea about this of course. He was trained from a young age how to address the public, and he tried to maintain as regal an image as possible when not among people who were close to him. Being in proximity to his brother, however, tended to break the facade. Or anyone else who sufficiently annoyed him, for that matter.
He was a man who loved his country, and was filled with as much pride as was expected of a prince. It could even be said he loved his brother, although he would likely never admit that to anyone, let alone the man himself. It could be said that while his brother had the love of the army and the people, Augustus had their respect. The two, in the end, made a good team. A shame only one of them was in present company.
Alignment
Lawful Neutral: While he cares a great deal about his people, it is his belief that a king must be above the concepts of good and evil, and instead must strive to do what is best for his subjects. Law, however, superseded both concepts. It brings peace, and nothing benefits a nation more than that.
Biography / History
Being the firstborn son of the royal family, Augustus was raised from birth with the expectation that he would be the heir to the kingdom. He had always been a smart child, and gotten the attention of the kingdom's mage advisers from a young age. His brother, born just a couple years after him, showed a much larger knack for the physical duties in life, and thus caught the attention of the kingdom's wyvern knights. The two developed a (not so) friendly rivalry, reflecting the long-present divide in their nation.
Erkonne was a nation of wyvern riders, somewhat withdrawn from the rest of the world. They maintained steady trade relations with their neighbors, but mostly kept an isolationist policy, using their strong military to ward off anyone looking to take advantage of their small size and rich mines. At the upper eschelons of society there were two main forces in conflict: The military, and the mage-advisers of the king. The two battled constantly for influence over time, and indeed small civil wars had erupted under kings who were too weak to keep the factions in check. When house Alsroht came to power it put an end to the fighting: placing the military above the mages and ensuring any king who sat on the throne was also a wyvern rider. Still, to appease to mages, they added the Sun to their house sigil, representing the anima magic the kingdom's mages practiced.
Augustus was poised to tip this balance once more upon his ascension to the throne. His father was in failing health, and already the advisers were putting pressure on him to declare the military subservient to them. However, before any of this could come to a boiling point he... vanished, and found himself at The Tower. Ripped away from his family and his kingdom. |
49,296 | 1,330 | 24 | 1,355 | 857 | Varrus Volkanon
Varrus shook his head, unable to hide the disappointment now shown on his face as he his gaze focused on the female who had spoken out. He noticed from the start she was built and equipped for combat, but seeing her squirm about the darkness set a foul taste in his mouth. Still, it was refreshing to see the others rallying behind the idea with much less apprehension. Still, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't somewhat off put by the idea himself...
'Intentionally leaving us with only one source of light and then stripping that from us not a moment after our first steps,' Varrus gritted his teeth behind his stoic visage, 'Someone wants to play games...' With that, he turned and continued back towards the torches once more. Once the object came within reach, he place himself beside one on the wall as he lifted it from it's holding, gripping it with one hand as he looked to the others.
"Granted the poem didn't mention any specific order or means to dim these lights, I'd suggest we snuff them out as close to one another as we can. Keep within arms reach of the pedestal, and don't hesitate to call out if something draws your attention." | Varrus Volkanon
"An army cannot stand without soldiers. I trust them to serve, and they trust me to lead them home."
Age
27
Sex
Male
Weapon
Sword
Asset
Skill
Flaw
Magic
Personality
Socially cold and stoic, many perceive Varrus to be a heartless overseer- or severely lacking in empathy. But behind the scenes, he's very considerate of his troops: often taking into consideration the projected losses and detriments to morale before making a decision that could effect them. Same goes for friends and family, though he feigns apathy to hide his empathy.
Alignment
Lawful Neutral
Biography / History
Varrus is the 7th heir in the noble Volkanon bloodline. He quickly embraced the fact he may never succeed to the head of the family, and set his mind to other pursuits. First, it was his studies, finding himself with a nose in a book. However, this quickly proved to be boring as the boy found it all to be too easy. There was no challenge, no competition, no true victory or spoils to be had. Once his studies had concluded, he quickly withdrew himself from his schooling and set out for a new objective. Almost instantly, he grew fond of mission briefings that he'd overhear and war stories that veterans recited on the streets. It was then, his focus on war became paramount. If he would not be the Head of House, he would become it's Grand General.
His fascination with war did not come without it's stigma. Many of the others his age viewed him as demented and masochistic, reading casualty reports and field manuals while simulating military movements upon a grand map. In truth, he was learning the faults of those before him to better his performance as a Leader. Every outflank, every massacre, every ambush, and every raid. These all had an answer and a reprisal in tactics, but the heat of the moment could easily sway the tide of battle. He had to be prepared for his soldiers to die, but hoping he could keep those losses to a minimum. |
49,297 | 1,330 | 25 | 1,836 | 2,639 | Ulrich Halechstin
Ulrich couldn't contribute much really but he did listen in on their brainstorming. He was pretty much amazed by how they were able to figure it out that quickly. They might be wrong though but it seems they were keen on putting out their only source of light. The idea of having no light was quite familiar to him as he travelled in the dead of night without a single light source before, courtesy of their village. He quickly took out his tome from his bag to prepare himself. Who knows what might happen in the dark. And lightning should make fire right?
He looked at Varrus and then nodded. He waited for further orders from them as it seems they were the ones who would be leading this group. He kept his senses alert. He then placed himself behind the nobles and would slowly follow them from behind, as if he was in charge of watching the rear part of the group. | Ulrich Halechstin
"They say that there is a special type of magic out there, and I strive to found out what that is."
Most would consider him small for his age, standing at a height of 5'4". He is distinct among others because of his gray hair and eyes, which is quite odd for a young boy to have. He also has childish features for someone who is nearing the age of 20. He rarely wears anything other than his signature greyish green cloak and its hood is usually seen covering his head. One other noticeable feature about him is the odd shaped tattoo under his right eye, even he is unsure of what it is. He carries around a knapsack which contains books, magical or not and other needs.
Age
19
Sex
Male
Main Class
Wizard
Reclass
Shaman and Monk
Personality
Alignment
- True Neutral
He believes himself to be a free spirit, never wanting to fully bow down to anyone besides himself. Yes, he can work for others and follow someone's orders but he believes that is because of his own decisions and he can choose to obey or disobey it as he pleases. However, if he sells his allegiance to you, he will see the contract to the bitter end. He has a great love for books, fictional or not, and tends to carry some with him wherever he goes. He takes comfort in these when in dire situations. He is nice to others and can strike up a conversation when he can. He is open-minded, not minding if someone is talking about their nefarious schemes or valiant deeds. So long as they don't attack him, he's good. He will learn anything he can as well, especially when it involves magic. His true goal is to learn everything to know about the field and expand it.
Biography / History
Ulrich wasn't quite your average citizen. In fact, he wasn't a citizen of any kingdom at all. He lived in a small village between two kingdoms inside a forest known for its notorious wolves. His village isn't normal at all. From a young age, kids were taught how to protect themselves, through sword or magic, it didn't matter. Once they've learned the basics, a mage and a physical warrior will be put in pairs and then thrown into the wilderness. Their goal is to make back to the village alive. Ulrich was paired up with a well-trained female mercenary. Her name was Valerie, or Val for short, and she was quite a skilled mercenary. Both of them had pristine teamwork despite just meeting and they were the first pair to return to the village thanks to Ulrich's memory and natural tracking ability.
They were prophesied to be a great pair of paid warriors. But Ulrich wasn't too keen on killing but he had no choice. By the age of 14, both he and Val started to travel to earn for their own. Partners were for life, even if you have a family, you will travel with them. That is the saying of their village. That is why partners are of opposite sex, because most can't live a normal life with this rule embedded in their minds. But Ulrich and Val were different, they knew that they were going to leave each other once one falls in love with another and they fully accepted it. They were out of the village so why follow right?
By the age of 18, they had travelled far from their village. At that moment, they were caught up in a war between two kingdoms. Seeing the opportunity, the sellswords sold their allegiance to both kingdoms and see who can win their bid. One had a higher price than the other so they immediately went for the 'blue kingdom' as they called it. They fought and gave it their best shot. Needless to say, they were quite a help despite being young. But the kingdom knew that if the 'red kingdom' would send a messenger to them having greater money, they will deviate and tell the other kingdom of all their plans. The King was wrong as the two were loyal but his decision was already made. That night, Ulrich went outside to read and study the stars. When he came back to the room, he saw Val, bloody, stabbed multiple times in her abdomen. Needless to say, he was enraged but he fully knew that his capabilities would not be enough to defeat all of them. With a heavy heart, he fled the kingdom.
But not before some minor revenge. He sold the information to the 'red kingdom' and needless to say, the kingdom won. Ulrich put up a proper burial for his partner and continued his quest alone. Without a trusty sword beside him, he felt vulnerable to say at least but he knew that Val would get angry if he gave up. And so he continued to hone his skills and find out more about his beloved magic. |
49,298 | 1,330 | 26 | 1,957 | 87 | Oh. Right. Mages.
Juniper sighed wearily and ran a hand through her hair, wiping sweat of her forehead. This was stupid, so very stupid, she thought as she looked at her companions, mouthing something that was supposed to be words of gratitude before swallowing and finally speaking.
"Thank you... Edmund, right? And you, - she glanced at the cold-looking swordsman who was still nameless, - "you do have a point. If there's anyone waiting for us, it's easier to beat him if we're many." | Juniper Drev
"I am beauty, I am grace, I will punch you in the face"i couldn't resist
Appearance
A tall, heavily-built woman, Juniper's strength rivals those of most men. She reaches nearly 190 cm in height and weighs slightly more than 85 kg. Her raven-black hair is cut short, barely reaching below her chin, and she's cut her bangs short so they don't get into her eyes. Two strands of hair frame her face, reaching down to her high cheekbones and square chin. Juniper's tanned, despite being raised in a northern country, and has brownstone eyes with a slight shade of olive. Her lips are slightly plump and she's got a slightly curved nose.
Juniper almost always wears battle gear - hers consists of a light iron chainmail, shoulder, elbow and knee guards made of steel and black leather knee-high boots.
Age
26
Sex
Cis-female, asexual
Weapon
Axe
Asset
Strength
Flaw
Magic
Personality
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral. Juniper's ethics and morals are questionable, as she is quite ruthless and prone to putting her interests first, especially if the conflict is with strangers or people whom she does not care for. She is, however, caring for her close relatives and friends and is willing to help in battle. She doesn't really care for the law and wants to find easy or effective measures to achieve her goal, however, if punishment will be dealt or benefits gained, Juniper will reluctantly follow.
She's very charismatic and self-confident, and will try to crack a joke in most situations where it's appropriate. Juniper's not the one for complex diplomacy, she prefers to solve problems through battle. It can be quite hard to stop her when she's angry or bloodthirsty. She has an affinity for good food and will probably spend most of her money on it, since she uses her gear and weapons until they wear out. Juniper believes that practice is superior to theory and will gladly spar with different people, be it mages or swordfighters.
Biography / History
The only daughter of the royal family in Yoha, a matriarchal kingdom bordering the northern sea, she was born on one of the few sunny days. Unlike her mother, an incredibly peaceful lady and a great diplomat, Juniper showed that the battlefield was more comfortable for her than conference halls during her early days. She was a fast learner, and became an army recruit at the age of 17. Her outstanding skill with an axe and speed helped her survive and escape death even during massacres, yet it lead to more mourning than one could imagine.
Her mother fell ill when Juniper reached late puberty. Despite the effort of Yoha's best doctors, she died shortly after her daughter reached 18, leaving the throne to the youngest Drev. With Juniper reigning, Yoha's politics took quite a turn to violence - their army soon almost effortlessly conquered the nearby lands, granting the kingdom more fertile soil and resources. They stopped the conquest after doubling the country's size and turning it into federation - it remained peaceful and open to foreigners ever since.
At the age of 26, Juniper still has no husband, wife or any romantic interest. There has been a significant amount of suitors coming to her reign, most of whom, if not all, were rejected and sent back, even princes of some of the biggest countries of the continent. |
49,299 | 1,330 | 27 | 732 | 8,842 | Sigrdrífa Rylo
"Very well then. If you can all be so kind as to grab a torch we can snuff them all out together." Sigrdrífa said politely and waited for everyone to do so. Upon this happening, she would continue, "When I say three then, alright? One.. two... three!" As explained Sigrdrífa quickly snuffed out her torch and waited for the others to do the same, curious to see if anything would happen. Hopefully something happened, she wasn't eager to starve to death in some sort of dank dungeon without any hope of escape. | Sigrdrífa
Sheer muscle is nothing compared to the strength that comes from within.
Sigrdrífa is a fairly tall and strong women, as anyone who is a solider, particularly a knight, is. Without her amour she weighs in at 90 Kilos(200 pounds) and is 208 centimeters tall(6 feet 7 inches). Her hands are heavily scarred, though they are usually covered by her gloves. Her eyes are a startlingly vivid blue color. She's rarely out of her amour, which is rather bulky, to the point where anything beyond simple movements is a bit of stretch, unless she's sleeping.
Age
27
Sex
Female
Main Class
Knight
Reclass
Cleric and Mercenary
Personality
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Sigrdrífa is naturally warm-hearted and friendly, which would seem odd given her line of work. However these traits are what make her so determined so be a knight and protect others. She's interested in doing what's best for people, even if that doesn't quite fit in with what other people think. Generally Sigrdrífa doesn't have strong opinions of her own and will let others have their say, but she's keen to correct any woefully wrong and unjust things she sees.
Biography / History
Sigrdrífa was born into a family that had a long tradition of distinguished military service. Jorhan's armies relied on the Rylo family for its various excellent generals, powerful mages, and expert soldiers. The Rylo's weren't expected to serve in the military. They did serve in the military. Sigrdrífa quickly found that she had some sort of sense for tactics and naturally favored the spear. At the age of eight of course. Sigrdrífa's service had yet to promote her to more than a platoon captain but that was enough for her. She was a good leader, firm yet fair. Sigrdrífa learned what it was like to lose a friend and how to keep moving on. She never got used to that terrible feeling, but always managed to deal with it. After all, if Sigrdrífa wasn't here to protect her friends, who would be? |
49,300 | 1,331 | 0 | 1,015 | 2,825 | P R I M A L F U R Y
Age 738, Planet Vegeta, North Galaxy, Universe 7.
The Court was bustling that noon. Saiyans walking in and out, on orders of Freeza himself, all Saiyan warriors had been called back to Vegeta. This was something that had never happened before, and it was cause for concern - or joy. Some figured it was finally time for Freeza to show the greatest warrior race in the unvierse some appreciation, they had spent the last decade working for him and they had expanded his empire extensively while doing so. In truth, the Saiyans was probably the greatest addition imaginable to the Freeza forces.
Which is why what would transpire in the coming weeks so incredibly unbelievable.
Vitar made his way to the court, he had arrived on the planet quite some weeks ago. He was, like a handful of others, put under Martial Hold, following the battle of Kasaar, a national embarrassment that will forever leave a dark smudge on the otherwise near flawless record of the Saiyan race. Today would be his, and the other accused's trial, held by King Vegeta himself. His king was not known for showing mercy to those that fail him, and Vitar was not expecting such, either. Yet, today was a special day. One where everything would change.
Today would be his last day on this planet that has been his home.
He made his way to the full court, over five hundred of the Saiyan Elite was in the court that day - more than Vitar had ever seen. Every important warrior of the race was there. King Vegeta and the Prince sat in the middle back end of the court in Thrones. Next to them was the lower podium where the massive man, the second strongest warrior of their race - Chief Counselor Nappa. Vitar was wearing his armor with his ensignia on the chest, his Saiyan Jewelry made out of a bronze shade around his neck, plus the piercings in his ear to match. His knife was sheated right under his tail on his leg. His black jumpsuit with the short round collared shirt could be seen under his black and green armor. His cape was draped over his right shoulder, covering his left arm, covered by the one fingerless black glove he wore on his left hand. He worse matching rings to his necklace and piercings on his right hand.
He made his way through the isle, to his place where he would be sitting in the middle of the room, next to his fellow warriors who were to stand trial today. No more than a handful of them had managed to bring shame to an entire species, truly, battle of Kasaar had been an embarrsment. Vitar's eyes med King Vegeta's, and then they went to the side of the room, leaning against a wall was the blue-skinned man that sent a shiver down Vitar's spine. Freeza's right hand man, Zarbon had come to watch the dealings.
Shit. He would have to improvise, then.
With a gulp, he took his spot, but before he could sit down, another black haired warrior, a fellow low class soldier that had clawed his way into the elite put his hand on his shoulder.
"Vitar." The man spoke, as Vitar turned around, facing Bardock, one of his seniors that had taken care of him like a brother. "It'll be fine, brother." Vitar assured him, as he put his hand up to Bardock, getting the Saiyan's hand off of his shoulder, turning back around. Bardock nodded, leaving. He had a mission today that he and his crew was gonna set out on, Vitar was supposed to have gone with them, but plans changed, as they do.
He bowed his head as he sat down. "My Lord.." He said, and Vegeta snarled at him. "Silence." the room queieted down as the King's words rang out. Nappa stood up. "The Charges of the awful, martial embarrassment on Kasaar. For bringing shame on all of Saiyankind, you are here to face Trial. While normally, we would just kill you and throw you to the space-wolves, the King has given you a chance to try your case."
Vitar stood up. "Commanding Officer on the mission at Kasaar. Vitar of the Saiyan Elite. The mission failed due to factors out of our control. The Kasaarlings hade technology specifically created to counter our ability to use the Great Ape Form. Without the benefits of the Oozaru we were outmatched by their power levels. A Larger squad of Saiyans would've been required, as the commando force that was sent in was incapable of handling the situation." Vitar explained, before sitting down.
"So what you're saying, Vitar, is that it's the Royal Court's fault, for not sending more men, that you could not handle your top-priority mission?
"No, sir, I'm just saying that there were factors we did not know abou-" He was cut off by the bigger Saiyan, whom was walking in front of him.
"You were in charge of Recon of the planet, correct?"
"Yes, sir. But"
"We'll have no more excuses from you. Are you ready to make your judgement, my liege?" Nappa asked, bowing to Vegeta, as the King stood up.
"I've heard enough, Nappa, take a seat. Vitar, stand up, Boy."
Vitar stood up, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck. He wasn't afraid of the judgement, but he certainly wasn't sure his plan was gonna workout. Zarbon was a complication he hadn't expected. "You think you can make a mockery of this court? Of the crown?!" Vegeta asked as Vitar swallowed his pride. "N-No sir. I do not. I would never! You know I'm the most loyal there is!" Vitar shouted, puffing his chest.
"SILENCE!" The king shouted. "Everyone of the defendents, except Commander Vitar are hereby banished. Take them out of my sight."
Zarbon chimed in. "But, Lord Vegeta, would it not be more fitting to kill such embarrassments? A public execution, perhaps? Lord Freeza would find that an utter delight. Oh, that would be just too delicious!"
The King raised an eyebrow and then smirked. "Certainly. Think yourselves lucky, you won't have to die in space, too stupid to fend for yourselves. You shall be publically executed next week, on Freeza day. The commander, too." The King said with a smirk. Vitar bowed his head.
"No." Vitar's words silenced the court, whispers rang out. "Hm?" Vegeta asked him. "No. You will not execute me. I have not betrayed Planet Vegeta. I have not brought shame to the Saiyan Race. I am a proud elite warrior, and I will NOT be PUT DOWN LIKE A DOG!" Vitar shouted, dashing forward, sucker-punching the king in the face, making Vegeta slide backwards a few feet, grinning as his lip began bleeding. Nappa and four other Royal Elites were on Vitar, holding him down.
"How dare you, insulent scum!" Nappa shouted. And Vitar was struggling to break free. "King Vegeta! I, Vitar of the Saiyan Elite, challenge you to a duel! Call off your apes and face me!" He shouted.
"You want to fight me for your life? Pathetic." Vegeta said, waving him off. "No. Not for my life. For your crown!" He spit out, biting the saiyan who held him down to the ground in the finger. Once more, he flew at Vegeta, whom this time caught his fist in the air. "You dare try to challenge me, your King for the crown? You pathetic fool."
Vitar threw out his other arm, only to also be caught by the king, whom then headbutted him to the ground, Vitar skidded on the floor, pulling his knife, crouching down. The king unclipped his cape from his armor, as he stretched. "Fine. I accept your challenge. I will push your exceution forward."
Vitar came at him, swiping his knife at the king's neck, he dodged, a quarter of an inch of his hair was cut by the laser-sharp blade. The king released a double-jab into Vitar's chest, as the saiyans in the court were getting excited. Zarbon, too. He clicked the scouter to record it all and directly stream it to Freeza. Vitar's arm shot out to grab Vegeta, but was met with a boot to the chest, sending him to the ground. Vitar charged like a mad bull at Vegeta, his cape ruffling in the air created by his flight. The Two traded blows, Vitar trying to hit the king with his knife, but the king deflected every blow, clearly toying with the Elite warrior. "HROAH!" the King exclaimed as he let out a strong jab, connecting with Vitar's chin, sending him flying, stunning. Vegeta appeared behind him, kicking him in the stomach, tossing him down towards the floor. He stretched out his arms, doing a downward motion before he flew after Vitar, hitting Vitar with both of his knuckles to further increaase his fall. Smoke rose from the ground after Vitar crashed, Vegeta was still in the air, having stopped a few feet off the ground. Dust had been kicked up, as Vegeta chuckled, so did a couple others. "Guess Vitar's dead, heh. What an idiot, trying to challenge the King like that?!" Some low class warriors laughed. When one of their scouters beeped. "He's not dead." Zarbon pointed out, his scouter doing the same.
From the smoke, Vitar appeared, his cape had been torn off of his armor, his shoulder pad was destroyed and his face was bleeding, the silhouette of his face penetrated the smoke as he came out charging with his knife. King Vegeta shot out his hand, a purple ki-blast in his hand. Vitar quickly dodged the ground, spinning as he hit the floor, pushing himself off of the floor with his unarmed hand. charging at the king, whom moved his arm right in time to only get graced by Vitar's knife on the right arm - instead of getting the whole thing taken off. The King let out an annoyed grunt, as he knee'd Vitar in the stomach, punching him several more times in the face, singling out his armed hand, and applying enough pressure to the hand that Vitar cried out in pain, small bones in his hand breaking the sickening sound made the Saiyans in the court go crazy. Zarbon was chuckling at the display.
"This knife of yours? It's a really nice knife. Your father was a fool to waste such a gift on a worthless piece of trash like you." The King said as the knife fell to the ground. Vitar tried to reach for it, but before he could, The King kicked him another time in the ribs, spinning around, he delieved a soccer kick to Vitar's head as he was falling, sending him flying upside down across the court, hitting the fall on the far end hard enough to make part of the wall fall down.
Vitar's body was shaking as he was struggling to get back up onto his feet. Coughing blood.
"It's over, Vitar. Stop fighting and I'll put you out of your misery. Like. A. Dog."
Vitar wiped blood from his lip and looked up at the king and smirked from his pained expression. He put one palm behind the other as he pulled his arms back up towards his face-height. Taking the every-so familiar stance to everyone of the Saiyan elite. "Oni-Ohn.."
".. How dare you?!" Vegeta asked him, unable to believe that Vitar would have the guts to steal the royal move like that.
"CANNON!" Vitar shouted as the wave of blue ki shot out towards the King, blinding everyone in the room. even Zarbon had to put his hand up in front of his eye to block out a little of the light.
But King Vegeta was unphased. Once the attack was reaching him, the King streched his arm back, and slapped the energy blast out of it's trajectory, causing it to fly upwards, destroying parts of the ceiling as the blue beam went into the sky. "Pathetic." King Vegeta taunted, as he appeared infront of the Vitar whom was now collapsing out of exhaustion and injuries. another round of a savage beating went out over the Saiyan Elite from the King. King Vegeta held Vitar by the fringe of his hair,as he was beaten within an inch of his life, a pink energy ball was formed in the King's hand as he leaned in close to Vitar, whispering something in his ear.
"I'm proud of you, kid. Good luck on your mission, Commander." As he pushed the spehere of energy to Vitar's stomach, it expanded to become big enough to engulf the entire, as the blast sent him flying into the skyline and out of sight. "Another bit of trash taken out."
"Zarbon, you can inform Lord Freeza that the Saiyans are fully capable of handling their own problems, and I am frankly a little offended he decided to send his secretary here to babysit us."
Zarbon cackled. "I'll inform him of that, King Vegeta. Nicely done, it was a real treat."
3 Weeks Later, On board the Primal Fury
Vitar was manning the helm, reflecting on the last few hours on his home. After his fight with Vegeta, he had been smuggled onboard the Primal Fury. Put in the healing chamber while everyon else was put in Cryostasis and put on board, too. They had finally arrived in the Western Galaxy, far out of the grasp of the Freeza Forces and the planet trade organization. And it was time to thaw the rest of the crew out. Vitar pressed a few buttons on the deck. "BABY. Begin Ice Age Protocol." Vitar ordered. "Yes, Vitar. Once Ice Age Protocol has been completed and the crew are all assembled, King Vegeta's orders are completed and you are my sole Admin. Do you want to go through all of the possible uses of my systems now?"
"Proceed while we wait. I suppose I should learn what this ship can do. Bring up scanners and find us someplace for the crew to stretch our legs. They must be hungry by this point."
"I will do that, Commander."
"Thanks, Baby." Vitar said, shutting the female voiced AI into background mode. He needed a little alone time. He still couldn't believe they had this tuffle vessel with all of this tech at their fingertips. He still couldn't quite believe that they had chosen him to be in charge of this whole thing. | V I T A R
| B I R T H N A M E: |
Vitar
| N I C K N A M E ( S ): |
Longshadow
| E P I T H E T H: |
The Barber
| P O W E R L E V E L : |
9408
| A G E: |
29
| A P P E A R A N C E: |
Vitar stands at 6'8, making him extraordinarily tall for a Saiyan. His frame's not stubby,
but certainly not small, giving him a rather imposing figure. Like all of his ilk, he's muscular yet fairly lean. His hair is jet black, so are his eyebrows, in stark contrast to his bright green eyes and his pale skin that no amount of solarbeams seem to affect. His black hair is loose in it's natural mane-like shape, going down to his shoulder, further adding to his size by virtue of it's incredible volume. Due to his size and black hair,
he earned the nickname Longshadow as a younger soldier, having hit his current size in his teenage years.
Vitar is normally seen wearing a sleeveless round-collar shirt, black or red over the standard Saiyan long-sleeved slacks that are all but uniform at this point. A cape, draped around him like both a scarf and a poncho over his wide shoulders, often in white or black. Under the cape he wears his black battle armor with green accents, matching thigh-guards and very small shoulder pads. He wears standard boots and white fingerless gloves. His scouter sits proudly on the side of his head just short of always. The tail he's very proud of is wrapped around his waist like most of noble bearing.
| P E R S O N A L I T Y: |
If one would use but one word to describe Vitar, it's "Elite." Sure, he was not born into it,
but he has fought tooth and nail to be one of the few low class warriors that have climbed to the highest parts of society. In his short two decades since his birth, he's caused quite a stirr for the foes of the Saiyans.
This has formed his personality, he's professional and for a saiyan, emotionally controlled. He does not give in to his temper, nor is he prone to violent outbursts. He's barking orders out of authority, not out of anger.
Vitar firmly believes in choosing your fights, and is not quite as bloodthirsty as the norm is - but, when it is required, he is more than willing to let out a more sadistic primal side of himself. The Barber is a professional through and through, his elegant choice of weaponry alone speaks volumes to his character.
| T R A D E M A R K: |
Close Quarters; Vitar is made famous for his speed and his furious melee combat moves, while fully capable of launching devastating ki-Blasts, Vitar is more so about fighting with his hands, besting his foes in physical strength, speed and ferocity alike. He wears a protoklangite combat knife strapped to his thigh that he is always very quick to produce in a fight, making a grapple from Vitar incredibly deadly as it's sure to be followed with a blade to a vital area.
Oni-Ohn Pistol; a bastardization of the royal Galick Gun. His blue ki sparks all around him into a sphere as he pulls one arm backwards, a smaller blue sphere forms in his hand until he shoots it forward, creating a beam from the sphere around him - much like the Galick Gun.
Oni-Ohn Cannon; A two-handed and more powerful version of the Pistol. When using the Oni-Ohn Cannon, Vitar's ki takes on a somewhat darker blue tint, exchanging it's cyan color for a navy blue.
Plasma Shot; Vitar grabs a fist full of dirt, or other forms of soil and charges it with his Ki, superheating it to the point that when it is thrown it turns into plasma capable of burning - or dismembering foes. Incredibly effective at dealing with armored foes, allowing Vitar a vital spot to put his knife into.
| S K I L L S: |
Vitar is, as previously mentioned a professional, a true mercenary. He's got basic knowledge in navigation,
ship maintenance and first aid. Not on any kind of industrial scales, but enough to take care of himself. Beyond that, Vitar is what you could call a People Saiyan, he's spent a fair bit of time smuggling, often as muscle, but while you're working as somebody's muscle, you learn to haggle. Most importantly though, is that Vitar's got excellent skills in intelligence gathering, he's good at handling people, regardless if it's while bartering for parts, or if it's with a knife to their throat.
| B I O G R A P H Y: |
Vitar was born with a meager powerlevel of two, a low class like his father, mother and seven brothers before him. Born to mediocrety in the Saiyan race, shackled to his caste was his fate. Nothing more but a lowly grunt, a pawn to be sacrificed in a game of Kings.
| M I S C. N O T E S: |
Other stuff, equipment for instance goes here. |
49,301 | 1,331 | 1 | 220 | 2,519 | Barbiru stretched, his muscles and sinews cracking from the cold sleep. He shivered slightly, the cold mists of the cryostasis still circling around his feet. His half asleep eyes twitched and scanned his surroundings. Cold metal walls, and the humming of the ship's systems. So, they were being woken up. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and no alarms flashed.
That seemed like a good thing.
The short Saiyan leapt out of his pod, still undressed and in the buff, and reaching with his hand, he nimbly snatched one of the diagnosis panels in the wall. The system was running fine, which was -quite- surprising. He had half a thought of the old Tuffle junk never taking off, or worse yet, exploding and killing everyone on startup, himself included. That would be no good.
Well that was why he was even there, was it? He eyed the sigil that was imprinted on his capsule. A wrench. He was the wrench monkey. Which was understandeable. He was... a less than stellar elite saiyan. And the only reason one could consider his presence on the mission was the fact that no matter the power level, one could not just simply punch space to allow intergalactic travel. One needed to be able to repair and make devices. The one thing he excelled at. He scratched his broom-hair, as messages flicked through the screens.
"Well, so far so good, but module 588-DF seems a bit dodgy. Better check that out soon." He added to himself, focused so he even forgot to dress, his eyes peering at the screen. | B A R B I R U
| B I R T H N A M E: |
Barbiru
| N I C K N A M E ( S ): |
Barbie(insulting), Biru
| E P I T H E T H: |
Wimp
| P O W E R L E V E L : |
4000
| A G E: |
20
| A P P E A R A N C E: |
Barbiru is a shorter than average height and toned saiyan, but not overall burly. He has dark hair arranged in a spiky fashion that shoots upwards like a broom. One of such locks sticks forward and hangs loosely. His eyes are dark, but his expression is uncharacteristically mellow and gentle. He usually wears an old style PTO armor without shoulderpads, as well as an utility belt just a bit below his tail's resting position. He also carries a small backpack with more materials as well as a pocket computer, which is linked to his heavily-modded green scouter for enhaced functionality and technical analysis.
| P E R S O N A L I T Y: |
A complete deviant in the Saiyan society, Barbiru lacks the common aggressive behaviour of most saiyans, preferring to live and let live if left unattended. However, as a creature who likes to abide with rules, his kind hearted nature is often forced to perform gruesome deeds and fight for the Saiyans more than he would like to, in order to avoid being punished. Patient and ponderous, Barbiru quickly leapt to a niche almost no Saiyan would ever set foot in. Technology. After all, building and repairing in his eyes are more difficult and challenging than just destroying things. And he doesn't have to stain his hands to do so.
However, there is another side to Barbiru. Since he's capable of attachment and loves peace, should the few things that are important to him be threatened, he will answer in kind. Possesing an unbreakable will and boundless courage, Barbiru might not have the battle instict of his peers, but he has truly heroic spirit. He will be swift. He will be merciful. And he will kill you with hardly a gloat or a word, or die trying.
| T R A D E M A R K: |
All Rounder Elite: Barbiru's style in combat involves a rather trite mix of offense, defense, punches and throws, with Ki blasts. He doesn't have any kind of strong suite whatsoever, and feels dull and boring. However, it is still elite trained style, and it will hurt if one is not careful. Given how this style also has very little weak points besides the lack of true strengths, it could be argued that is a defensive and reactive style among Saiyans, if such a thing existed.
Galick Gun: Rumours say he learnt this technique by being on the receiving end repeated times as punishment for his deeds. Nevertheless, while his version is not as powerful as the Royal Family ones, it is still a good finishing move, and demolition tool.
Ki Transfer: Barbiru is capable of transferring his ki to replenish that of others.
Carbo Barrier: Barbiru spread his arms wide and manifests an interwoven ki warrier that is unbelievable sturdy and can protect himself and allies from mass area attacks, and if he focuses enough, massive ki attacks. However, the consumption rate for the technique is proportional to the amount of damage the barrier receives, and as such, it will not hold for long when piercing or massive energy attacks are used. Barbiru thinks of this as his ultimate technique.
| S K I L L S: |
Gentle Soul: Barbiru doesn't give off battle lust, even when inspected by people with mystic powers (although they would be able to sense regret and self-loathe instead). He also is very hard to enrage, mostly because he has to will himself to hurt people. His Great Ape form suffers as a result, lacking the usual overpowering aggression most Saiyans in Great Ape form have. Since he doesn't have that much blind rage, he didn't need much effort to be able to learn to retain his mind in his Great Ape form, and is even capable of manipulating (large) tools with it.
Perceptive: Given that he has a broader emotional spectrum than the average saiyan, and the fact that the drums of battle don't sound as intense in his mind, Barbiru is often being able to tell and feel details that many would find missing, such as a hint of an emotion of an opponent, a hidden clue, detect which part is the one malfunctioning... even in the thick of battle, which can give him some perks such as seeing attacks better and finding chinks in an opponents' defense.
Engineer: Barbiru's great passion. He is a very capable engineer, even if one were to compare him by other race's standards, and he can create, repair and maintain a wide range of technology devices employed by the PTO, as well as several other factions. He is also able to design new systems from scratch and even improve current technologies.
Cooking: He likes to create, and he also has the other Saiyan passion of eating. It is no wonder he knows how to do this.
| B I O G R A P H Y: |
Barbiru was born in the elite of the Saiyans, destined to be an iron-fisted captain over the more uncouth and undisciplined hordes of lower classes. However, something seemed to go very -wrong- in his head. The young saiyan not only failed to show any kind of unrelenting will to fight, but would often throw his fights up. To not hurt his opponents. This brought great shame to his peers and parents, and unable to deal with the child, they decided to send him in suicide missions so he could learn the proper Saiyan way or die trying.
Of course, Barbiru not only failed in such a task, and leave the planet unmarred, he failed in the worst way possible. He somehow befriended the high-tech natives of the planet and thus gained enough knowledge to rig his own pod systems and go back to Planet Vegeta without finishing his mission. Barbiru's punishment, however had to wait because the PTO came along, guns blazing and putting their heels over King Vegeta's throne. Barbiru felt no less vexed than his comrades about the matter, after all, as bad as King Vegeta was, the new guys looked even worse. Surprisingly fought hard in that war, but eventually it was But... he didn't want to start fights. Not yet at the very least. Deep down, he knew that somehow, that Frieza madman had to be stopped. But it would be unwise to fight again in the same fashion they had lost. So he bid his time like many others. The PTO provided, nevertheless, a surprising boon. Scientists and technology. Barbiru wasted no time in chasing these flighty seemingly servitor races by running errands in secret, in exchange of their precious knowledge. And of course the benefit was mutual. The protection of a Saiyan was nothing to scoff at.
Until King Vegeta caught wind of his deeds once again. He offered him a choice. To punish him for not being Saiyanlike enough, or join a certain ship's crew. Barbiru's choice was a no brainer.
| M I S C. N O T E S: |
The Barbie thing was totally intentional. |
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