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54,502 | 1,485 | 8 | 788 | 291 | Kensi stood before her assigned pod, a hand running running along its scorched mark metallic flesh. Such a short relative time with the ODST and already she'd gained an affinity for the small capsule. Something about putting her life in its hands sparked a love. The same love she'd often felt towards her EOD kit. It was perhaps the one superstition she held. Show them your respect and they'd love you for it. A sickly sweet voice from Kensi's communicator startled the woman. She pulled her hand away from the pod like she'd experienced a jolt of electricity. "Captain Lasko's squad please report to briefing room 3 with all gear immediately."
Catching movement out of the corner of her eyes Kensi turned her head to see said captain several pods down. Now she just felt foolish and mumbled a few curses under her breath. Mathers secured her rifle in the pod holder and removed the armored rucksack from her back. With everything secure save for the sidearm still holstered to her right thigh Kensi turned with a squeak of her boots and moved past Lasko for the Briefing room | Name: Kensi Mathers
Rank: Staff Sergeant
Specialization: EOD
Appearance: See Picture
Personal psych report: Kensi possesses a no nonsense attitude towards many of her fellow soldiers, a personality that has gain her the moniker Ice Queen. One of the few to have lived to see the glassing of her homeworld, Arcadia, Kensi sees sentimentality as detriment to this war. As such she lacks anything to call home, or a reminder of her past. Focusing only on the death of the covenant at any cost.
Career history:
7/22/2521 - Born on Arcadia
3/14/2526 - Father died during the Insurrection actions on Arcadia
2/9/2531 - Fled Arcadia with mother during the first Covenant Assault
7/22/2539 - Joined the UNSC Marine Corps
10/30/2539 - Completed Basic Training, specializing in Explosive Ordnance Disposal
3/6/2543 - Participated in the Battle of 18 Scorpii
5/10/2545 - Assigned to 53rd Armor Division during the Battle of Actium
7/3/2545 - Assigned to Operation: TORPEDO, providing support to the Spartans of Beta Company
7/7/2545 - Promoted to Master Sergeant for her actions on Pegasi Delta
7/10/2545 - Court Martial and demoted to Private for assaulting an officer when news reached her that her entire squad would not be reformed after their massive losses during the operation
1/22/2548 - Requisitioned by ONI for several high level missions. Is promoted to Sergeant.
9/9/2549 - Returns to Arcadia for ONI, to research the reasons behind the Covenant attack 18 years prior, and their subsequent reluctance to return. During this time a Covenant fleet returned, leading to the fall of Arcadia. Kensi was able to help lead civilians to evacuate, and hold off Covenant ground forces before escaping. The glassing of her homeworld however left their psychological scars.
5/19/2551 - Was discharged from ONI operations after it was determined her mental fortitude had been shattered on Arcadia
3/1/2552 - Reenlisted at the urging of allies in ONI, joining the ODST with glowing recommendations. All prior work with ONI was officially redacted.
8/6/2552 - Participated in the Battle of Reach. Was evacuated shortly before the fall to receive medical treatment.
10/8/2552 - Cleared to return to duty, assigned to Earth just prior to the Covenant Invasion
Weapons:
- BR55 Battle Rifle
- M6C/SOCOM Sidearm
- M168 Demolition Charges
Black ink: Prior ONI connections. Is still considered an ONI asset. Sometimes receives secondary mission parameters by ONI. Has been ordered to obtain sensitive Division Three data stored on Mars Base, and to destroy the lower facility at all costs. |
54,503 | 1,485 | 9 | 1,404 | 5,010 | The Hanger was pretty impressive, although Lee had seen lots of hangers before, but none were as large as this one. Lee had to say the the ODST looked like they were ready to take on a hole Covenant Fleet, but the chances of the happening was 5 in a million, well at least with out back up that is. After snapping out of his trance, he began to wonder were the Captain was at, he was told that he Captain would meet them here, at the Hanger once they landed. "So much for punctuality." Lee mumbled as he readjusted his knapsack and his weapon box.
"Captain Lasko's squad please report to briefing room 3 with all gear immediately."
Lee assumed that was him, although he did not notice any of the other recruits get of the Pelican. One again making sure he had all the necessary items needed, he walked out of the large hanger and headed for the briefing room. Lee was kind nervous to tell the truth, he had just gotten here from vacation and was know sent on a mission. He would have to sure that the higher ups knew that his vacation time was not over, and was still expecting his paycheck. | Name: Lee Mcgarren
Rank: Sergeant
Specialization: CQC
Appearance:
Personal psych report: Lee has a crazy but kind sense of humor. Sometimes, his jokes are hurtful but he doesn't mean it that way. He get's defensive over sore spots but is all very loyal and trustworthy towards his friends. His sarcasm is hilarious and everything about him is comical and funny. He can be serious when he wants to, especially when people threaten things he loves.
Career history:
6/14/2520- Born in Lemuria, Arcadia
2/26/2526- Father and brother joins the Insurrectionist
2/9/2531- Fled with sister and mother from Arcadia during the Covenant invasion, leaving behind father and brother
12/25/2539- Joins the UNSC Marine Corps
2/14/2540- Completes basic training for CQC, chooses to go on to advanced training
5/2/2545- Participated in the Battle of Actium
10/6/2547- Court Martial for knowing the were abouts is former Insurrectionists and with holding information
8/5/2549-Requisitioned by Sergeant Avery Junior Johnson to participate in Siege of Paris IV
1/8/2552- Participated in Operation: FIRESIDE
9/11/2552- Given vacation, went and stayed on earth prior to the Invasion
Weapons:
-BR85HB SR Battle Rifle
-M90 Close Assault Weapon System
-Flashbang grenade |
54,504 | 1,485 | 10 | 1,187 | 68 | Better not turn your back on it then. Anders said to Pella and chuckled before leaning back and resting his eyes for the remainder of the trip to Long Way Home.
After their arrival he took a moment to check he had everything and put on his helmet before reaching for the weapons box. He exited the pelican, looking at the Sergeant who seemed to simply stand there. His comms buzzed, "Captain Lasko's squad, please report to briefing room 3 with all gear immediately." he heard the computerized voice say. An AI Anders thought, he disliked it already, it seemed too happy, too.. unpredictable or at least, that was the feeling he got from it. He headed for the briefing rooms near the drop pods, found number three and entered. | Name: Anders Björkgård
Rank: Lance Corporal
Specialization: Sniper
Personal psych report: A calm and patient person even under stressful situations. He has a deep hatred of Jackals and will go out of his way to kill them, even if it puts himself and others in danger. Other then that, he is usually quiet though he speaks when he disagrees.
Career history: (Quite brief)
5/4/2523 - Born on Earth.
3/11/2542 - Joins the UNSC Marines together with his brother.
1/1/2549 - Sent to Arcadia.
9/9/2549 - Took part in the defence of evacuation crafts during the fall of Arcadia. He watched his brother die by a Jackal sniper. Was evacuated with other soldiers and civilians.
11/9/2549 - Promoted to Private First Class.
2550 - Joins the ODST's and completes training and tests for being a Sniper.
17/6/2552 - Takes part in the Battle of Sigma Octanus IV.
1/9/2552 - Reassigned to the Sol System and promoted to Lance Corporal.
Weapons: Sniper Rifle(SRS99D-S2 Anti-Matériel). M6C/SOCOM Pistol. Two fragmentation grenades. Also carrying a medkit.
Black ink: - |
54,505 | 1,485 | 11 | 1,970 | 1,259 | Jennifer was awoken by the Pelican landing. She took no haste in getting her weapons, eventually she did she leaned over and grabbed her weapons. As she was finishing up the ever chipper AI called her to briefing room 3. She left the armory and proceeded to the briefing room at a brisk walk. | Name: Jennifer Antoinette Watters
Rank: First Lieutenant
Specialization: CQC, Stealth
Personal psych report:
She appears emotionally detached and resigned, as if she feels a quiet resolve about something that cannot be altered. She masks the countenance of the classic "poker-face," making her difficult to read by friends, family, and co-workers. In fact, her face looks like a mask, long-drawn as if weighted by the gravity of her burdens. When her eyes are not frustratingly impassive, they can appear, in a poetic sense, like dark chasms that act as reservoirs for the failures, disappointments, and losses of humanity. Her gaze you may see the flickering images of what the whole of mankind has endured in the universe.
The first rule in getting along with the Jennifer is to honor her natural penchant for being quiet and taciturn. Indeed, her detached and deadpan delivery can lend an inscrutable air to her mannerisms but their willingness to stand unruffled against the bustle of life can also be a source of serenity to those around her. Learn to enjoy this silence as a tranquil truce with the incessant fury of a clamorous world.
She is a person of few words, and never wants to belabor a point; she favors direct communication that cuts to the chase without unnecessary tangents or verbal flourishes. A simple thumbs up or down will often suffice when communicating with her.
Career history:
2/17/2511 - Born on Earth
2/18/2528 - Parents murdered by Insurrectionists
2/17/2529 - Joined the UNSC Marine Corps
5/26/2529 - Completed Basic Training, specializing in CQC & Stealth
4/2/2533 - Joined the UNSC Marine Corps Special Forces unit Force Recon
5/2/2533 - Finished Force Recon training
7/7/2535 - Requisitioned by ONI
8/1/2542 - Resigned from ONI
8/20/2542 - Joined the UNSC Marine Corps Special Forces unit ODST
9/20/2542 - Finished ODST basic training
Weapons: MA5B Individual Combat Weapon System (suppressed) with underslung shotgun, M7S Submachine Gun, & M6C/SOCOM
Black ink: Jennifer's entire official history and name is a farce created by ONI to cover up the true history of their agent.
2/17/2511 - Jennifer Abigail Watson born on Reach
9/23/2517 - Conscripted into the Spartan-II Program by Katherine Halsey. Became Jennifer-090
9/24/2517 - Began Spartan-II training
1/1/2020 - Participated in Operation: TREBUCHET
2/3/2525 - Requisitioned by ONI, death faked by ONI
8/1/2552 - Began ODST training provided by ONI
10/1/2552 - Finished ODST training
10/2/2552 - Inserted into an ODST squad under the name Jennifer Antoinette Watters |
54,506 | 1,485 | 12 | 846 | 1,784 | Pella smiled, almost motioning to nod in agreement and approval before settling-in for landing, only to be jolted awake by a more-than-chipper AI. He scowled at the thought of having to deal with another rampant AI within his lifetime, at least this time he didn't have to trust this one with the air they breathed.
Looking back, he remembered the part about passers-by having sticky-finger-syndrome whenever they saw a new mod on a gun, and took his battle-rifle with him to briefing in addition to the standard-issue thigh-holstered burp-gun before also taking his helmet and a strip of tattered camo-netting. He tossed the latter at Alexander, "y'May want to use that to keep the sun off your visor. The glint tends to draw their fire." | Name: Dorian Pella
Rank: Specialist 1st class
Specialization: Grenadier
Personal psych report: Totally not claustrophobic, a bit 'free-spirited', will continue sending on raids and monitor progress.
Career history:
2525 - Born on Madrigal Colony
2528 - Madrigal is glassed
2535 - Battle of the Rubble. 23 Librea
2536 - UNSC JROTC (Punitive measure)
2542 - Transferred to UNSCDF
2543 - Transferred to ODST
2544 - Training complete in ODST as grenadier, minored in sabotage
2545 - Failed Rescue mission of Draco III, sent back for re-evaluation aboard UNSC Chares
2546 - Battle of Sargasso, demoted and transferred
2547 - Battle of Skopje, re-evaluated again, screened for Boren's disease (tested negative).
2549 - Arcadia falls, promoted to specialist
2552 - Battle of Mare Erythraeum, Mars
Weapons: BR55 SR with under-slung M319 grenade-launcher (<--- Lots of EB Green was used); M7S SMG, two M9 grenades, 1 can of C-7 explosive-foam.
Note: BR85HB SR was a Halo 4 weapon. |
54,507 | 1,485 | 13 | 157 | 3,054 | Lasko looked over the troops assembled before him nodding he knew they would do as they were told I guess the real question was for how long? What would they think of the package they were being sent to collect? Pushing those thoughts out of his head he looked at the display before them "Alright people, we got a job to do I'm Captain Sam Lasko ranking officer for this OP, you follow my orders and we all go home alive, got it? Now as for the job we are extracting a tier one asset from right out of the heart of Demeter city, now satellite imaging has shown three covenant super-carriers in low orbit outside the city, obviously they are burning through our intel trying to find out more about us. Now there friendlies on the ground but there scattered and without much leadership so you find someone bring them along we may go into hell but we walk back out. As for the mission well it's retrieval Section 3 has asset's on the ground and they want them out of there, now thanks to our resident resident AI." Spring appeared from the console as a young girl wearing a Sunday dress waving to the assembled troops. Lasko continued ignoring her. "We also have access to the factories that are looked down planet side, so you will be able to re-equip, now we headed to a ONI black ops site located in downtown, it's crawling with covenant, this drop will be at night so expect low visibility keep your VISR on at all times. Also the city Superintendent has contacted Spring they are currently mapping and setting up systems to guide us through the city. Now as for support, ONI has asked that the navy hold back as retrieving us will take everything they have. Now if any of you have questions ask them now." He said as he pulled on his helmet, he began the ejection sequence for Springs Islands AI chip slotting her into his command pod. | Name:Sam Lasko
Rank: Captain
Specialization: Commando/Assault
Appearance:
Personal psych report: Captain Lasko was once described "As the most honest and decent officer in the core." By Gunnery Sergeant Buck. Sam has shown to stay cheerful even in bad situations however he has been known to get attached to the men under his command effecting his judgement. However because of this troops under his command often complete there with less causalities than those under other other officers. Off duty records show that many of the soldiers regard him highly however they never see him in the mess. Some speculate that the young captain is a virgin as he is career military and is almost never seen socializing, currently there is betting pool as to find out whether he is or not, standing at around 5000 credits winner take all.
.
Career history: ( Not doing timeline because PC crashed right after I finished and I really don't feel like doing it... again. Sorry.)
Born on Harvest three years before the Covenant war began he escaped with others during the evacuation. However his parents did not survive the assault on Harvest. Having no family he was given to a orphanage on Luna growing up there he studied hard and shortly after his 18th birthday he was accepted in to the Luna OCS Academy. Training hard topping the class in Zero-G combat and ground missions, he received a invitation to join 82nd Airborne Pathfinders as a 1st Lieutenant. Four years later he joined the defense at New Llanelli he would survive bringing home not only his entire squad but two others as well after capturing a phantom class drop-ship and bringing it back to the escaping UNSC fleet. This incredible feat earned him not only a promotion but the Medal Of Honor. He would later transfer to the ODST's after that battle, he would go on to fight at Reach helping secure high ranking personal and evacuating them. His time as Pathfinder means he does have jet-pack training and can fly with the best of them, he would use this training as well as a new model jump pack to carry civilians safety to the evac platform above while his squad fought off the brutes raiding the city during the Fall Of Reach. He would then be stationed at Earth on board the UNSC cruiser "The Long Way Home" preparing to meet the troops he has just been reassigned to before the drop on Mars to re-take a ONI building and secure precious cargo. Has additionally requested that 30 extra pods be dropped containing weapons, supplies, and mongoose's for his squad to use to once they touch down and to take some of the flak as they drop.
Weapons:
MA5C Assault Rifle
M7S Submachine Gun
M6C/SOCOM "Automag"
Lasko does not wear standard ODST armor instead wearing Air Assault armor preferring it to standard kit as he can since sync it to satellites for live mapping and telemetry.
(Trading out grenades for a pistol giving him a extra weapon work with but a severe lack of explosives.)
Black ink: None. |
54,508 | 1,485 | 14 | 157 | 3,054 | Alright pods now, we drop in ten move it troops! He yelled as he did one last check over his pod then watched his squad to make sure they all stowed there gear and got aboard. He wondered if he should have let them introduce themselves but pushed the thought out of there head they were on a tight schedule as it was, no time for pleasantries. Maybe after this he could be promoted to Major and get a desk job... "Yeah right, like I could sit behind a desk while covenant bang on the door" He thought then shrugged inwardly well it was a dream, climbing in to his pod he began the drop sequence as the ship close in over Mars. | Name:Sam Lasko
Rank: Captain
Specialization: Commando/Assault
Appearance:
Personal psych report: Captain Lasko was once described "As the most honest and decent officer in the core." By Gunnery Sergeant Buck. Sam has shown to stay cheerful even in bad situations however he has been known to get attached to the men under his command effecting his judgement. However because of this troops under his command often complete there with less causalities than those under other other officers. Off duty records show that many of the soldiers regard him highly however they never see him in the mess. Some speculate that the young captain is a virgin as he is career military and is almost never seen socializing, currently there is betting pool as to find out whether he is or not, standing at around 5000 credits winner take all.
.
Career history: ( Not doing timeline because PC crashed right after I finished and I really don't feel like doing it... again. Sorry.)
Born on Harvest three years before the Covenant war began he escaped with others during the evacuation. However his parents did not survive the assault on Harvest. Having no family he was given to a orphanage on Luna growing up there he studied hard and shortly after his 18th birthday he was accepted in to the Luna OCS Academy. Training hard topping the class in Zero-G combat and ground missions, he received a invitation to join 82nd Airborne Pathfinders as a 1st Lieutenant. Four years later he joined the defense at New Llanelli he would survive bringing home not only his entire squad but two others as well after capturing a phantom class drop-ship and bringing it back to the escaping UNSC fleet. This incredible feat earned him not only a promotion but the Medal Of Honor. He would later transfer to the ODST's after that battle, he would go on to fight at Reach helping secure high ranking personal and evacuating them. His time as Pathfinder means he does have jet-pack training and can fly with the best of them, he would use this training as well as a new model jump pack to carry civilians safety to the evac platform above while his squad fought off the brutes raiding the city during the Fall Of Reach. He would then be stationed at Earth on board the UNSC cruiser "The Long Way Home" preparing to meet the troops he has just been reassigned to before the drop on Mars to re-take a ONI building and secure precious cargo. Has additionally requested that 30 extra pods be dropped containing weapons, supplies, and mongoose's for his squad to use to once they touch down and to take some of the flak as they drop.
Weapons:
MA5C Assault Rifle
M7S Submachine Gun
M6C/SOCOM "Automag"
Lasko does not wear standard ODST armor instead wearing Air Assault armor preferring it to standard kit as he can since sync it to satellites for live mapping and telemetry.
(Trading out grenades for a pistol giving him a extra weapon work with but a severe lack of explosives.)
Black ink: None. |
54,509 | 1,485 | 15 | 846 | 1,784 | Awesome Pella remarked as he strapped his helmet on, giving a nod at Anders "back to the die-pods we go."
At least he was 100% sure nobody else had touched his rifle.
(bad post, but not much else to do for me besides strap myself in and give some random technician the finger, I'd say give it 3 days before assuming everyone is smart enough to find a chair and sit down in it for drop) | Name: Dorian Pella
Rank: Specialist 1st class
Specialization: Grenadier
Personal psych report: Totally not claustrophobic, a bit 'free-spirited', will continue sending on raids and monitor progress.
Career history:
2525 - Born on Madrigal Colony
2528 - Madrigal is glassed
2535 - Battle of the Rubble. 23 Librea
2536 - UNSC JROTC (Punitive measure)
2542 - Transferred to UNSCDF
2543 - Transferred to ODST
2544 - Training complete in ODST as grenadier, minored in sabotage
2545 - Failed Rescue mission of Draco III, sent back for re-evaluation aboard UNSC Chares
2546 - Battle of Sargasso, demoted and transferred
2547 - Battle of Skopje, re-evaluated again, screened for Boren's disease (tested negative).
2549 - Arcadia falls, promoted to specialist
2552 - Battle of Mare Erythraeum, Mars
Weapons: BR55 SR with under-slung M319 grenade-launcher (<--- Lots of EB Green was used); M7S SMG, two M9 grenades, 1 can of C-7 explosive-foam.
Note: BR85HB SR was a Halo 4 weapon. |
54,510 | 1,485 | 16 | 788 | 291 | Kensi's grimaced at the AI as she appeared next to the captain. It figures the voice that summoned them here was from an AI. The sergeant greatly disliked AIs. Every time she'd encountered one Kensi had nearly lost her life. It was always a bad omen for her when an AI was attached to the mission. "Great. I survived Reach just to die on a dust ball at the ass end of the galaxy." Mathers mumbled to herself as she stood at the dismissal and moved from the room to her drop pod.
Sliding herself into the confined space Kensi took a moment to peak out and look up and down the row. There had been other squads in that room. All told there was at least three dozen ODST dropping today. Logically Kensi knew the odds were against her. At most maybe only half would make it to the surface. Taking one final look at those around her Kensi sighed and leaned back into the seat, securing her crash webbing as the pod closed its self. | Name: Kensi Mathers
Rank: Staff Sergeant
Specialization: EOD
Appearance: See Picture
Personal psych report: Kensi possesses a no nonsense attitude towards many of her fellow soldiers, a personality that has gain her the moniker Ice Queen. One of the few to have lived to see the glassing of her homeworld, Arcadia, Kensi sees sentimentality as detriment to this war. As such she lacks anything to call home, or a reminder of her past. Focusing only on the death of the covenant at any cost.
Career history:
7/22/2521 - Born on Arcadia
3/14/2526 - Father died during the Insurrection actions on Arcadia
2/9/2531 - Fled Arcadia with mother during the first Covenant Assault
7/22/2539 - Joined the UNSC Marine Corps
10/30/2539 - Completed Basic Training, specializing in Explosive Ordnance Disposal
3/6/2543 - Participated in the Battle of 18 Scorpii
5/10/2545 - Assigned to 53rd Armor Division during the Battle of Actium
7/3/2545 - Assigned to Operation: TORPEDO, providing support to the Spartans of Beta Company
7/7/2545 - Promoted to Master Sergeant for her actions on Pegasi Delta
7/10/2545 - Court Martial and demoted to Private for assaulting an officer when news reached her that her entire squad would not be reformed after their massive losses during the operation
1/22/2548 - Requisitioned by ONI for several high level missions. Is promoted to Sergeant.
9/9/2549 - Returns to Arcadia for ONI, to research the reasons behind the Covenant attack 18 years prior, and their subsequent reluctance to return. During this time a Covenant fleet returned, leading to the fall of Arcadia. Kensi was able to help lead civilians to evacuate, and hold off Covenant ground forces before escaping. The glassing of her homeworld however left their psychological scars.
5/19/2551 - Was discharged from ONI operations after it was determined her mental fortitude had been shattered on Arcadia
3/1/2552 - Reenlisted at the urging of allies in ONI, joining the ODST with glowing recommendations. All prior work with ONI was officially redacted.
8/6/2552 - Participated in the Battle of Reach. Was evacuated shortly before the fall to receive medical treatment.
10/8/2552 - Cleared to return to duty, assigned to Earth just prior to the Covenant Invasion
Weapons:
- BR55 Battle Rifle
- M6C/SOCOM Sidearm
- M168 Demolition Charges
Black ink: Prior ONI connections. Is still considered an ONI asset. Sometimes receives secondary mission parameters by ONI. Has been ordered to obtain sensitive Division Three data stored on Mars Base, and to destroy the lower facility at all costs. |
54,511 | 1,485 | 17 | 1,404 | 5,010 | Jack really had nothing to say, he listened to the briefing, got all his necessary information and was ready to deploy. He walked into the confined space of the pod and waited for the mission to begun. | Name: Lee Mcgarren
Rank: Sergeant
Specialization: CQC
Appearance:
Personal psych report: Lee has a crazy but kind sense of humor. Sometimes, his jokes are hurtful but he doesn't mean it that way. He get's defensive over sore spots but is all very loyal and trustworthy towards his friends. His sarcasm is hilarious and everything about him is comical and funny. He can be serious when he wants to, especially when people threaten things he loves.
Career history:
6/14/2520- Born in Lemuria, Arcadia
2/26/2526- Father and brother joins the Insurrectionist
2/9/2531- Fled with sister and mother from Arcadia during the Covenant invasion, leaving behind father and brother
12/25/2539- Joins the UNSC Marine Corps
2/14/2540- Completes basic training for CQC, chooses to go on to advanced training
5/2/2545- Participated in the Battle of Actium
10/6/2547- Court Martial for knowing the were abouts is former Insurrectionists and with holding information
8/5/2549-Requisitioned by Sergeant Avery Junior Johnson to participate in Siege of Paris IV
1/8/2552- Participated in Operation: FIRESIDE
9/11/2552- Given vacation, went and stayed on earth prior to the Invasion
Weapons:
-BR85HB SR Battle Rifle
-M90 Close Assault Weapon System
-Flashbang grenade |
54,512 | 1,485 | 18 | 1,187 | 68 | Best kind of pods. Anders said in response to Pella on the way out to the pods. When Anders reached his pod, he opened the weapons box he had been carrying all this while. He took out the rifle and one of the four magazines and put it in the rifle, before securing the rifle in the pod. The three remaining mags for the rifle and one extra for his pistol he put in his ammo bag. He put the empty box away and strapped himself into his pod, pressing the ready button and letting the pod close. "Hey Captain. When you said crawling, did you mean crawling as in just a bit, or did you mean a dead dog filled with maggots kind of crawling?" he said over the comms. Anders preferred the first kind of crawling. | Name: Anders Björkgård
Rank: Lance Corporal
Specialization: Sniper
Personal psych report: A calm and patient person even under stressful situations. He has a deep hatred of Jackals and will go out of his way to kill them, even if it puts himself and others in danger. Other then that, he is usually quiet though he speaks when he disagrees.
Career history: (Quite brief)
5/4/2523 - Born on Earth.
3/11/2542 - Joins the UNSC Marines together with his brother.
1/1/2549 - Sent to Arcadia.
9/9/2549 - Took part in the defence of evacuation crafts during the fall of Arcadia. He watched his brother die by a Jackal sniper. Was evacuated with other soldiers and civilians.
11/9/2549 - Promoted to Private First Class.
2550 - Joins the ODST's and completes training and tests for being a Sniper.
17/6/2552 - Takes part in the Battle of Sigma Octanus IV.
1/9/2552 - Reassigned to the Sol System and promoted to Lance Corporal.
Weapons: Sniper Rifle(SRS99D-S2 Anti-Matériel). M6C/SOCOM Pistol. Two fragmentation grenades. Also carrying a medkit.
Black ink: - |
54,513 | 1,485 | 19 | 157 | 3,054 | As Lasko's pod shut the he opened communications "Men, here's where we show those ape faced, squid-head, sons of bitches that they could not have picked a worse enemy than the human race. We are going to blow the hell out of those dumb bugs until we don't have anything left to shoot 'em with! And then, we are going to strangle them with their own living guts!" He yelled into the comms as they dropped, his pod falling first, as he raced towards Martian soil. he could see streaks of plasma flying up towards them. He did his best to guide his pod through but it took a stray bolt, careening downward the last thing he thought was 'damn, well at least my grave will be dug for me' then it went black. | Name:Sam Lasko
Rank: Captain
Specialization: Commando/Assault
Appearance:
Personal psych report: Captain Lasko was once described "As the most honest and decent officer in the core." By Gunnery Sergeant Buck. Sam has shown to stay cheerful even in bad situations however he has been known to get attached to the men under his command effecting his judgement. However because of this troops under his command often complete there with less causalities than those under other other officers. Off duty records show that many of the soldiers regard him highly however they never see him in the mess. Some speculate that the young captain is a virgin as he is career military and is almost never seen socializing, currently there is betting pool as to find out whether he is or not, standing at around 5000 credits winner take all.
.
Career history: ( Not doing timeline because PC crashed right after I finished and I really don't feel like doing it... again. Sorry.)
Born on Harvest three years before the Covenant war began he escaped with others during the evacuation. However his parents did not survive the assault on Harvest. Having no family he was given to a orphanage on Luna growing up there he studied hard and shortly after his 18th birthday he was accepted in to the Luna OCS Academy. Training hard topping the class in Zero-G combat and ground missions, he received a invitation to join 82nd Airborne Pathfinders as a 1st Lieutenant. Four years later he joined the defense at New Llanelli he would survive bringing home not only his entire squad but two others as well after capturing a phantom class drop-ship and bringing it back to the escaping UNSC fleet. This incredible feat earned him not only a promotion but the Medal Of Honor. He would later transfer to the ODST's after that battle, he would go on to fight at Reach helping secure high ranking personal and evacuating them. His time as Pathfinder means he does have jet-pack training and can fly with the best of them, he would use this training as well as a new model jump pack to carry civilians safety to the evac platform above while his squad fought off the brutes raiding the city during the Fall Of Reach. He would then be stationed at Earth on board the UNSC cruiser "The Long Way Home" preparing to meet the troops he has just been reassigned to before the drop on Mars to re-take a ONI building and secure precious cargo. Has additionally requested that 30 extra pods be dropped containing weapons, supplies, and mongoose's for his squad to use to once they touch down and to take some of the flak as they drop.
Weapons:
MA5C Assault Rifle
M7S Submachine Gun
M6C/SOCOM "Automag"
Lasko does not wear standard ODST armor instead wearing Air Assault armor preferring it to standard kit as he can since sync it to satellites for live mapping and telemetry.
(Trading out grenades for a pistol giving him a extra weapon work with but a severe lack of explosives.)
Black ink: None. |
54,514 | 1,485 | 20 | 846 | 1,784 | Ooh-rah.
Dorian didn't so much as get to say his response to Anderson's rebuttal, and Lasko's "see you on the ground" speech, as the comms only turned-on after all the pods had sealed, resulting in only a mildly audible grunt that barely ebbed over the background-noise of the pods sealing.
As per normal procedure since 2549, the Cruiser also jettisoned flotsam, equipment-pods, and other debris to assist in their HEV's penetrating the enemy planet's defenses, making it difficult for rapid reaction forces to target any single trooper and ensuring a fair amount of ordnance on the ground. Still, he could see a large fraction of pods go off course or break-up, while others had picked unpleasant landing-zones. Pella's pod, managed to get deflected by a tree, and sent skidding across the Martian landscape, plowing through several grunts and a jackal. Learning to use your pod like a manned-godrod was always a bit of a rush.
From then, he waited until the sole surviving grunt had crawled on top to inspect the wreckage, and only then did he eject the hatch. Along with the grunt. Any cripples still lingering in the pods wake were then stabbed with a combat-knife, because it made them twitch a bit longer.
"All clear at Pella's can." | Name: Dorian Pella
Rank: Specialist 1st class
Specialization: Grenadier
Personal psych report: Totally not claustrophobic, a bit 'free-spirited', will continue sending on raids and monitor progress.
Career history:
2525 - Born on Madrigal Colony
2528 - Madrigal is glassed
2535 - Battle of the Rubble. 23 Librea
2536 - UNSC JROTC (Punitive measure)
2542 - Transferred to UNSCDF
2543 - Transferred to ODST
2544 - Training complete in ODST as grenadier, minored in sabotage
2545 - Failed Rescue mission of Draco III, sent back for re-evaluation aboard UNSC Chares
2546 - Battle of Sargasso, demoted and transferred
2547 - Battle of Skopje, re-evaluated again, screened for Boren's disease (tested negative).
2549 - Arcadia falls, promoted to specialist
2552 - Battle of Mare Erythraeum, Mars
Weapons: BR55 SR with under-slung M319 grenade-launcher (<--- Lots of EB Green was used); M7S SMG, two M9 grenades, 1 can of C-7 explosive-foam.
Note: BR85HB SR was a Halo 4 weapon. |
54,515 | 1,485 | 21 | 1,970 | 1,259 | Jennifer left the breifing room, she was annoyed all that could have been relayed on the way down by the AI. Spring Island reminded Jennifer of her former AI partner of eight years, Zelina wasn't quite as chipper though. Jennifer had known Zelina was rampant for at least six months when ONI terminated Zelina, Jennifer and Zelina both wanted to find out if the theoretical fourth stage of rampancy was real. Zelina wanted to find out cause it could mean her own survival. Jennifer wanted to find out because it would mean her only friend in decades would stay around for longer, but it was not meant to be. Jennifer strapped herself into her Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicle and dropped.
Once on the ground she ejected the hatch. She stripped the pod of all the supplies and ammo. "Watters on the ground." | Name: Jennifer Antoinette Watters
Rank: First Lieutenant
Specialization: CQC, Stealth
Personal psych report:
She appears emotionally detached and resigned, as if she feels a quiet resolve about something that cannot be altered. She masks the countenance of the classic "poker-face," making her difficult to read by friends, family, and co-workers. In fact, her face looks like a mask, long-drawn as if weighted by the gravity of her burdens. When her eyes are not frustratingly impassive, they can appear, in a poetic sense, like dark chasms that act as reservoirs for the failures, disappointments, and losses of humanity. Her gaze you may see the flickering images of what the whole of mankind has endured in the universe.
The first rule in getting along with the Jennifer is to honor her natural penchant for being quiet and taciturn. Indeed, her detached and deadpan delivery can lend an inscrutable air to her mannerisms but their willingness to stand unruffled against the bustle of life can also be a source of serenity to those around her. Learn to enjoy this silence as a tranquil truce with the incessant fury of a clamorous world.
She is a person of few words, and never wants to belabor a point; she favors direct communication that cuts to the chase without unnecessary tangents or verbal flourishes. A simple thumbs up or down will often suffice when communicating with her.
Career history:
2/17/2511 - Born on Earth
2/18/2528 - Parents murdered by Insurrectionists
2/17/2529 - Joined the UNSC Marine Corps
5/26/2529 - Completed Basic Training, specializing in CQC & Stealth
4/2/2533 - Joined the UNSC Marine Corps Special Forces unit Force Recon
5/2/2533 - Finished Force Recon training
7/7/2535 - Requisitioned by ONI
8/1/2542 - Resigned from ONI
8/20/2542 - Joined the UNSC Marine Corps Special Forces unit ODST
9/20/2542 - Finished ODST basic training
Weapons: MA5B Individual Combat Weapon System (suppressed) with underslung shotgun, M7S Submachine Gun, & M6C/SOCOM
Black ink: Jennifer's entire official history and name is a farce created by ONI to cover up the true history of their agent.
2/17/2511 - Jennifer Abigail Watson born on Reach
9/23/2517 - Conscripted into the Spartan-II Program by Katherine Halsey. Became Jennifer-090
9/24/2517 - Began Spartan-II training
1/1/2020 - Participated in Operation: TREBUCHET
2/3/2525 - Requisitioned by ONI, death faked by ONI
8/1/2552 - Began ODST training provided by ONI
10/1/2552 - Finished ODST training
10/2/2552 - Inserted into an ODST squad under the name Jennifer Antoinette Watters |
54,516 | 1,485 | 22 | 1,187 | 68 | Anders guided his pod calmly, there was a lot of plasma and he didn't like it. He guessed it was maybe the second kind of crawling on the ground. The bad kind. His pod crashed through the roof of some kind of office building, and probably another floor or two before stopping. The hatch ejected, crashing into a wall a meter away. Anders jumped out activated his VISR and reached for his rifle. He moved to a window, looking outside. He saw a pod race through the sky, landing behind a few buildings a few streets away to the north. He opened his comms, "Anders here, safe on the ground.". He made his way outside and started to move north. So far, no covies spotted. Maybe it wasn't the bad kind of crawling. | Name: Anders Björkgård
Rank: Lance Corporal
Specialization: Sniper
Personal psych report: A calm and patient person even under stressful situations. He has a deep hatred of Jackals and will go out of his way to kill them, even if it puts himself and others in danger. Other then that, he is usually quiet though he speaks when he disagrees.
Career history: (Quite brief)
5/4/2523 - Born on Earth.
3/11/2542 - Joins the UNSC Marines together with his brother.
1/1/2549 - Sent to Arcadia.
9/9/2549 - Took part in the defence of evacuation crafts during the fall of Arcadia. He watched his brother die by a Jackal sniper. Was evacuated with other soldiers and civilians.
11/9/2549 - Promoted to Private First Class.
2550 - Joins the ODST's and completes training and tests for being a Sniper.
17/6/2552 - Takes part in the Battle of Sigma Octanus IV.
1/9/2552 - Reassigned to the Sol System and promoted to Lance Corporal.
Weapons: Sniper Rifle(SRS99D-S2 Anti-Matériel). M6C/SOCOM Pistol. Two fragmentation grenades. Also carrying a medkit.
Black ink: - |
54,517 | 1,485 | 23 | 157 | 3,054 | Groaning Lasko awakened, his pod landing face up in the strret he heard his squad reporting in as he pulled himself groaning as he checked the area. Slowly climbing out of his pod he pulled his assault rifle and sub-machine gun out pistol clipped to his side as he checked his VISR systems map, no covenant in the nearby area if the superintendent was to be believed. Swapping back he enable the low light filter, the dark, cluttered streets could be seen clearly now. Spring spoke, this time slightly less cheerful ."Captain, setting way point, we are very far of course at least two kilometers from the RV point. Please remember to grab my chip and insert me into your data-pad, I would hate to left here all alone."
Sam moved back ejecting Spring Islands AI chip and sliding it into his data-pad and placing the pad in his ammo pouch. He opened a channel to his team. "Alright squad, Spring set us a RV point, it's a UNSC weapons testing lab, I'm way off course however so I'm going try to and secure means to get there, you lot just be there, watch yourselves and check your maps the Superintendent is identifying Covenant patrols as red marks." He spotted a phantom over head deciding his best bet was to get out of the streets and into the buildings he slipped in to a nearby office building via a unlocked door and began to work out a route to the way point. | Name:Sam Lasko
Rank: Captain
Specialization: Commando/Assault
Appearance:
Personal psych report: Captain Lasko was once described "As the most honest and decent officer in the core." By Gunnery Sergeant Buck. Sam has shown to stay cheerful even in bad situations however he has been known to get attached to the men under his command effecting his judgement. However because of this troops under his command often complete there with less causalities than those under other other officers. Off duty records show that many of the soldiers regard him highly however they never see him in the mess. Some speculate that the young captain is a virgin as he is career military and is almost never seen socializing, currently there is betting pool as to find out whether he is or not, standing at around 5000 credits winner take all.
.
Career history: ( Not doing timeline because PC crashed right after I finished and I really don't feel like doing it... again. Sorry.)
Born on Harvest three years before the Covenant war began he escaped with others during the evacuation. However his parents did not survive the assault on Harvest. Having no family he was given to a orphanage on Luna growing up there he studied hard and shortly after his 18th birthday he was accepted in to the Luna OCS Academy. Training hard topping the class in Zero-G combat and ground missions, he received a invitation to join 82nd Airborne Pathfinders as a 1st Lieutenant. Four years later he joined the defense at New Llanelli he would survive bringing home not only his entire squad but two others as well after capturing a phantom class drop-ship and bringing it back to the escaping UNSC fleet. This incredible feat earned him not only a promotion but the Medal Of Honor. He would later transfer to the ODST's after that battle, he would go on to fight at Reach helping secure high ranking personal and evacuating them. His time as Pathfinder means he does have jet-pack training and can fly with the best of them, he would use this training as well as a new model jump pack to carry civilians safety to the evac platform above while his squad fought off the brutes raiding the city during the Fall Of Reach. He would then be stationed at Earth on board the UNSC cruiser "The Long Way Home" preparing to meet the troops he has just been reassigned to before the drop on Mars to re-take a ONI building and secure precious cargo. Has additionally requested that 30 extra pods be dropped containing weapons, supplies, and mongoose's for his squad to use to once they touch down and to take some of the flak as they drop.
Weapons:
MA5C Assault Rifle
M7S Submachine Gun
M6C/SOCOM "Automag"
Lasko does not wear standard ODST armor instead wearing Air Assault armor preferring it to standard kit as he can since sync it to satellites for live mapping and telemetry.
(Trading out grenades for a pistol giving him a extra weapon work with but a severe lack of explosives.)
Black ink: None. |
54,518 | 1,485 | 24 | 1,970 | 1,259 | Jennifer used the grenades in her Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicle to destroy it. She called up a map of the local area on her UGPS. She linked the UGPS's data to her TACPAD, she then made some brief calculations. She was becoming frustrated with the results, after factoring in the ODST armor being inferior to MJOLNIR armor she was beginning to really hate ODST armor and this mission. She had half a mind to make a quick stop to Misriah Armory's factory where they produced the Security variant of the MJOLNIR Mark V or to Acheron Security's factory where they produced the HAZOP variant of the MJOLNIR Mark V, both would be worse than her Mark VI but a vast improvement over the ODST armor. The other half of her mind told her it was a bad idea, because ONI said she was supposed to be a regular ODST not a Spart for this mission and regular ODST don't wear MJOLNIR.
She eventually settled upon a route that got her there with the greatest chance of survival with a fairly quick time. She headed towards a building and began heading straight up to the top. | Name: Jennifer Antoinette Watters
Rank: First Lieutenant
Specialization: CQC, Stealth
Personal psych report:
She appears emotionally detached and resigned, as if she feels a quiet resolve about something that cannot be altered. She masks the countenance of the classic "poker-face," making her difficult to read by friends, family, and co-workers. In fact, her face looks like a mask, long-drawn as if weighted by the gravity of her burdens. When her eyes are not frustratingly impassive, they can appear, in a poetic sense, like dark chasms that act as reservoirs for the failures, disappointments, and losses of humanity. Her gaze you may see the flickering images of what the whole of mankind has endured in the universe.
The first rule in getting along with the Jennifer is to honor her natural penchant for being quiet and taciturn. Indeed, her detached and deadpan delivery can lend an inscrutable air to her mannerisms but their willingness to stand unruffled against the bustle of life can also be a source of serenity to those around her. Learn to enjoy this silence as a tranquil truce with the incessant fury of a clamorous world.
She is a person of few words, and never wants to belabor a point; she favors direct communication that cuts to the chase without unnecessary tangents or verbal flourishes. A simple thumbs up or down will often suffice when communicating with her.
Career history:
2/17/2511 - Born on Earth
2/18/2528 - Parents murdered by Insurrectionists
2/17/2529 - Joined the UNSC Marine Corps
5/26/2529 - Completed Basic Training, specializing in CQC & Stealth
4/2/2533 - Joined the UNSC Marine Corps Special Forces unit Force Recon
5/2/2533 - Finished Force Recon training
7/7/2535 - Requisitioned by ONI
8/1/2542 - Resigned from ONI
8/20/2542 - Joined the UNSC Marine Corps Special Forces unit ODST
9/20/2542 - Finished ODST basic training
Weapons: MA5B Individual Combat Weapon System (suppressed) with underslung shotgun, M7S Submachine Gun, & M6C/SOCOM
Black ink: Jennifer's entire official history and name is a farce created by ONI to cover up the true history of their agent.
2/17/2511 - Jennifer Abigail Watson born on Reach
9/23/2517 - Conscripted into the Spartan-II Program by Katherine Halsey. Became Jennifer-090
9/24/2517 - Began Spartan-II training
1/1/2020 - Participated in Operation: TREBUCHET
2/3/2525 - Requisitioned by ONI, death faked by ONI
8/1/2552 - Began ODST training provided by ONI
10/1/2552 - Finished ODST training
10/2/2552 - Inserted into an ODST squad under the name Jennifer Antoinette Watters |
54,519 | 1,485 | 25 | 1,187 | 68 | Anders stopped as he got the RV point. Not very far away. He paused before turning. Whoever was in the pod a few streets away would be alone for now. He moved back the way he had come, to the south, towards the RV point. He opened the map, seeing a patrol heading his way. He moved back into the office building he had landed in, setting up in a window. If anyone came down from the north and combat broke out with the incoming patrol, he would be able to support whoever it was. If not, well, he could simply let the patrol pass. A brute followed by three grunts entered the parking lot from the south. He held his fire, not bothering to aim at anyone yet. | Name: Anders Björkgård
Rank: Lance Corporal
Specialization: Sniper
Personal psych report: A calm and patient person even under stressful situations. He has a deep hatred of Jackals and will go out of his way to kill them, even if it puts himself and others in danger. Other then that, he is usually quiet though he speaks when he disagrees.
Career history: (Quite brief)
5/4/2523 - Born on Earth.
3/11/2542 - Joins the UNSC Marines together with his brother.
1/1/2549 - Sent to Arcadia.
9/9/2549 - Took part in the defence of evacuation crafts during the fall of Arcadia. He watched his brother die by a Jackal sniper. Was evacuated with other soldiers and civilians.
11/9/2549 - Promoted to Private First Class.
2550 - Joins the ODST's and completes training and tests for being a Sniper.
17/6/2552 - Takes part in the Battle of Sigma Octanus IV.
1/9/2552 - Reassigned to the Sol System and promoted to Lance Corporal.
Weapons: Sniper Rifle(SRS99D-S2 Anti-Matériel). M6C/SOCOM Pistol. Two fragmentation grenades. Also carrying a medkit.
Black ink: - |
54,520 | 1,486 | 0 | 2,471 | 790 | Urtum woke quickly, being roused from his slumber by the small outpost's alarm blaring throughout his room. He rushed over to a control station in the corner of the room, "A.L.I.S status report!"
A slightly digital sounding female voice sounded from the station, "There has been an intruder, all personnel have left the outpost."
The Salarian scratched the top of his head slightly, "Evacuation protocol not commenced, no intruder ship spotted... Yet staff gone, intruder appears... A.L.I.S. portable mode. Requires in person investigation."
"Yes sir." A small disc-like object ejected from a small console which Urtum grabbed and inserted into a small indention in his breastplate.
The Doctor donned his helmet and opened the door to the outside. He quickly walked to the door that connected to the mine. As he typed in the code to the door he touched the disc-like object that he had previously acquired, "A.L.I.S. scan area for life signatures, must identify race of intruder."
"Scanning for lifeforms." The voice announced. After a few minutes, as Urtum was walking through the mine the voice spoke up again, "Lifeforms detected, they do not match any known signatures."
The Salarian tapped his chin, "Hmm, unknown race, very exciting... Must be wary though, less knowledge of species could be problematic." He turned the corner and there in front of the unknowing alien stood a whole hoard of zombie-like creatures. "... Problematic indeed." With that, Urtum turned and ran for the door, "Too many, must call for support. Strange happening... Exciting." He exited the mine and sealed the door, "A.L.I.S. send out a distress signal, must wait for help." He returned to his room and sat on his bed, removing his helmet. "Wonder what will happen next." He said with a joyful smile on his face. He was excited to know more about these strange creatures. | Name: Urtum Ezon
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Race: Salarian
Appearance:
Personality: Very intelligent, but tries not to flaunt it. He tends to avoid conflict, but can handle his own in a fight. He also has a tendency to get extremely over excited about simple scientific findings. He speaks quickly, sometimes even forgetting to breath as he talks. He voices his opinion honestly and sometimes harshly, but will be more inclined to use fact and not opinions.
Brief Back Story: Urtum spent most of his childhood in a Civilian ship's laboratory. He was bad at getting along with the other kids in the ship, what with all the time he spent in the lab and his being socially inept. Urtum's father created him an AI companion that he could talk to so he wouldn't be lonely. This AI was called A.L.I.S. which stands for Analysis, Linguistic, and Information System. He excelled in all things that dealt with science and when he got older was invited to become a part of the Salarian Special Task Force. After a few years working for the Salarian Military, he retired and became a scientist so he could pursue his true passion. He and A.L.I.S were stationed on an uncharted planet to be a part of a mining operation and is currently the lead scientist for the operation.
Biotic Powers(if any): None |
54,521 | 1,486 | 1 | 1,118 | 7,627 | Angelo was in a shuttle doing his scouting run from the alliance, they told him that this was an important mining facility for the alliance so since it required discression Angelo volunteered however it seemed like it would be nothing more then just going around in the sand. At least not until Angelo heard the distress call from his shuttle, Angelo went to the pilot and said "talk to me" the pilot said "sir we have a distress call from one of the mining facilities nearby" Angelo simply smiled "bout time something happened. pilot get us their"
"yes sir" he said as he landed the shuttle a few clicks from the facility and Angelo took his mattlock assault rifle along with his favorite sniper rifle the original black widow, it was hell to carry but this gun could put a bullet through a cruiser easily so Angelo got used to the weight as he jumped out of the shuttle and with his breathing mask on and said "go ahead ill radio you when I figure out whats going on" the pilot then nodded and left and Angelo used his tactical cloak and moved into the facility unseen his mattlock ready and soon he saw something that could only be described as some sort of zombie. Angelo saw they were crowding around a certain door so maybe their would be survivors in their. Angelo took one of his sticky grenades and threw it at the group and in seconds it exploded blasting them to bits before Angelo walked over his tactical cloak gone and banged on the door "alliance recon, Angelo De Ortega if your a survivor open up" Angelo said ready to shoot if it was another one of those things... | Name: Angelo De Ortega
Gender: Male
Age:19
Race: human
Appearance: without wings of course
Personality: a hard worker that is a peacemaker and never stops helping others and will do whatever it takes even if it means going the extra the extra mile. Angelo is an infiltrator and as a result he prefers to kill his enemies from a distance instead of a straight on fight but if the need arises he will shoot his enemies down with precision and he doesn't care who he works with as long as he ends up doing it in the means of peace he does whatever it takes to stay with his principles and never kill for no reason.
Brief Back Story: Angelo was born on the colonies and as a result he worked hard with what was around him but soon some of the chimera troops came in and tried to kidnap \everyone and they would have gotten Angelo and his family to if it weren't for some alliance officers that came by just in time, they protected Angelo bravely and his family left the colony before they were graciously transported to the citadel, Angelo sighed up for the alliance the very next week...
Biotic Powers(if any): (not sure if it counts) tactical cloak.
the biotic ability called tear. |
54,522 | 1,486 | 2 | 2,471 | 790 | Urtum heard an Alliance soldier knock at the door, "A.L.I.S. confirmation of Alliance Officer."
"Confirmed, Angelo is an Alliance infiltrator."
The Salarian nodded, "Someone heard beacon. Good." He walked to the door and opened it, "Ah, Angelo yes? I'm Doctor Ezon. Lead scientist and one who activated distress signal." Without warning Urtum grabbed Angelo's arm and pulled him inside, closing the door, "Assume you've seen the creatures. Unknown creatures, very strange." He touched the disc on his breastplate, "A.L.I.S. status report."
The female voice responded, "All, system inside the mine are down. Lifeforms in immediate area terminated."
The doctor nodded, "Might be able to take one for research." He turned his attention to Angelo, "Have ship yes? Take Me and A.L.I.S on board, assuming you have laboratory. Need to acquire dead sample." He was talking rather quickly, not breathing as he spoke.
A.L.I.S. spoke up, "Maybe you should breath sir."
"Ah yes, respiration required to survive." Urtum took a deep breath and looked at Angelo with a blank stare, "Are you listening?" | Name: Urtum Ezon
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Race: Salarian
Appearance:
Personality: Very intelligent, but tries not to flaunt it. He tends to avoid conflict, but can handle his own in a fight. He also has a tendency to get extremely over excited about simple scientific findings. He speaks quickly, sometimes even forgetting to breath as he talks. He voices his opinion honestly and sometimes harshly, but will be more inclined to use fact and not opinions.
Brief Back Story: Urtum spent most of his childhood in a Civilian ship's laboratory. He was bad at getting along with the other kids in the ship, what with all the time he spent in the lab and his being socially inept. Urtum's father created him an AI companion that he could talk to so he wouldn't be lonely. This AI was called A.L.I.S. which stands for Analysis, Linguistic, and Information System. He excelled in all things that dealt with science and when he got older was invited to become a part of the Salarian Special Task Force. After a few years working for the Salarian Military, he retired and became a scientist so he could pursue his true passion. He and A.L.I.S were stationed on an uncharted planet to be a part of a mining operation and is currently the lead scientist for the operation.
Biotic Powers(if any): None |
54,523 | 1,486 | 3 | 1,224 | 1,558 | Terin was on his way back to the Citadel when his dhip picked up a distress signal. He told his pilit to seek ut out and came across the mining operation. He instructed his crew to bring them down and obce they landed he donned his gear and his assault rifle.
"Ill radio in my findings." He replied as he set off fighting through a hirde if odd undead things. Moments later he found a door. As he inspected the door ge realized tgat it was covered in blast residue.
"This is C-sec officer Commander Venjix if there us anyone in there open up." He said piunding on the door | Name: Terin Venjix
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Race: Turian
Appearance:
Personality: Terin is honorable and chivalrous he always tries to do the right thing. HE may not seem like the brightest but he hides an impressive amount of intelligence which he uses to adapt in combat situations.
Brief Back Story: Terin was born and raised on the Citadel and so growing up around the Alliance made him immediately curious. As soon as he was able he joined and quickly took command of a small frigate which he named the Avalon.
Biotic Powers(if any): |
54,524 | 1,486 | 4 | 1,118 | 7,627 | Urtum heard an Alliance soldier knock at the door, "A.L.I.S. confirmation of Alliance Officer.""Confirmed, Angelo is an Alliance infiltrator."The Salarian nodded, "Someone heard beacon. Good." He walked to the door and opened it, "Ah, Angelo yes? I'm Doctor Ezon. Lead scientist and one who activated distress signal." Without warning Urtum grabbed Angelo's arm and pulled him inside, closing the door, "Assume you've seen the creatures. Unknown creatures, very strange." He touched the disc on his breastplate, "A.L.I.S. status report."The female voice responded, "All, system inside the mine are down. Lifeforms in immediate area terminated."The doctor nodded, "Might be able to take one for research." He turned his attention to Angelo, "Have ship yes? Take Me and A.L.I.S on board, assuming you have laboratory. Need to acquire dead sample." He was talking rather quickly, not breathing as he spoke.A.L.I.S. spoke up, "Maybe you should breath sir.""Ah yes, reparation required to survive." Urtum took a deep breath and looked at Angelo with a blank stare, "Are you listening?"
Angelo watched as he was pulled in and was greeted by salarian starting to talk, god the one thing Angelo didn't like about salarians was how they talked so much so quick and it forced Angelo to concentrate on what he did hear from the salarian so Angelo then said "look their is an alliance shuttle I came in on that I can radio back but I have no lab im only an infiltrator I can get you some place that does have a lab and also you really think im going to carry one of those carcasses with me out of here? not a chance we have no idea if you can turn into that thing or not" Angelo started when he heard a c sec officer banging on the door commander Venjik? Angelo has heard the name before but he was wondering if he was just passing by like Angelo so he pulled out his mattlock and opened the door quickly pointing it in the direction he heard the voice then sighed loudly quickly putting the gun down and saluting the commander "commander im Angelo De Ortega alliance infiltrator answer the distress call, as you can see this scientist is a survivor and he wants to take one of the bodies with him to a lab for I don't know what" Angelo said trying to explain the situation as best he could... | Name: Angelo De Ortega
Gender: Male
Age:19
Race: human
Appearance: without wings of course
Personality: a hard worker that is a peacemaker and never stops helping others and will do whatever it takes even if it means going the extra the extra mile. Angelo is an infiltrator and as a result he prefers to kill his enemies from a distance instead of a straight on fight but if the need arises he will shoot his enemies down with precision and he doesn't care who he works with as long as he ends up doing it in the means of peace he does whatever it takes to stay with his principles and never kill for no reason.
Brief Back Story: Angelo was born on the colonies and as a result he worked hard with what was around him but soon some of the chimera troops came in and tried to kidnap \everyone and they would have gotten Angelo and his family to if it weren't for some alliance officers that came by just in time, they protected Angelo bravely and his family left the colony before they were graciously transported to the citadel, Angelo sighed up for the alliance the very next week...
Biotic Powers(if any): (not sure if it counts) tactical cloak.
the biotic ability called tear. |
54,525 | 1,486 | 5 | 2,471 | 790 | Urtum interrupted Angelo, "Want sample for testing, trying to find out what it is. Angelo thinks problematic, thinks I have chance to turn into one," He looked over at Angelo and shook his head, "Highly unlikely," He turned his attention to the C-Sec Officer, "Not caring of Angelo's concern, need to test dead subject to learn what they are... A.L.I.S. agrees." The Salarian touched the disc in his chestplate, the A.I. responding, "I think it would be advisable to study the creatures, seeing as they are now terminated it is highly unlikely they could turn the doctor into one of them."
The doctor nodded in agreement, "See?..." He paused for a second, "Ah, yes. Did not introduce to newcomer, I'm Doctor Ezon. No more formalities, need lab. Assuming C-Sec Officer has one. Need to start experiments, limited time before more come from the mine..." He tapped his chin for a bit, "Need supplies, assuming C-Sec ship has able crew to load my things."
A.L.I.S. spoke up, "If I may doctor, wouldn't it be in your best interest to ask if you can go aboard?"
"Ah, yes. Right, need permission. Requesting boarding ship with supplies and dead subject." The Salarian stared at the C-Sec Officer waiting for an answer. | Name: Urtum Ezon
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Race: Salarian
Appearance:
Personality: Very intelligent, but tries not to flaunt it. He tends to avoid conflict, but can handle his own in a fight. He also has a tendency to get extremely over excited about simple scientific findings. He speaks quickly, sometimes even forgetting to breath as he talks. He voices his opinion honestly and sometimes harshly, but will be more inclined to use fact and not opinions.
Brief Back Story: Urtum spent most of his childhood in a Civilian ship's laboratory. He was bad at getting along with the other kids in the ship, what with all the time he spent in the lab and his being socially inept. Urtum's father created him an AI companion that he could talk to so he wouldn't be lonely. This AI was called A.L.I.S. which stands for Analysis, Linguistic, and Information System. He excelled in all things that dealt with science and when he got older was invited to become a part of the Salarian Special Task Force. After a few years working for the Salarian Military, he retired and became a scientist so he could pursue his true passion. He and A.L.I.S were stationed on an uncharted planet to be a part of a mining operation and is currently the lead scientist for the operation.
Biotic Powers(if any): None |
54,526 | 1,486 | 6 | 1,224 | 1,558 | The Turian nodded his head as the two spoke and after a moments recollection he nodded once more saying.
"If you can get one to die and not explode then you can take one onto my ship but you only have until we reach the ship understood?" he asked not even waiting for a reply.
"And Angelo was it?" he continued. "I'm glad I ran into you I've been looking for an infiltrator so we may have to test your skills as we go." he said seeming to smile.
"Now come on lets get moving" he said turning around and bringing his weapon to his shoulder. | Name: Terin Venjix
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Race: Turian
Appearance:
Personality: Terin is honorable and chivalrous he always tries to do the right thing. HE may not seem like the brightest but he hides an impressive amount of intelligence which he uses to adapt in combat situations.
Brief Back Story: Terin was born and raised on the Citadel and so growing up around the Alliance made him immediately curious. As soon as he was able he joined and quickly took command of a small frigate which he named the Avalon.
Biotic Powers(if any): |
54,527 | 1,486 | 7 | 1,118 | 7,627 | yes sir" Angelo said grinning thinking that he has found his commanding officer, till recently Angelo has only been allowed to do simple patrol and recon missions but if the turian put in a request for Angelo to be his infiltrator then that would be a big leap forward for him. Angelo ultimate goal was to be a council specter, Angelo would be able to do his priority missions and bring peace to the galaxy, it wont be easy but Angelo has never strayed away from a challenge before. Angelo pulled out his mattlock and got ready to follow the turian and prove his skills as an infiltrator to him... | Name: Angelo De Ortega
Gender: Male
Age:19
Race: human
Appearance: without wings of course
Personality: a hard worker that is a peacemaker and never stops helping others and will do whatever it takes even if it means going the extra the extra mile. Angelo is an infiltrator and as a result he prefers to kill his enemies from a distance instead of a straight on fight but if the need arises he will shoot his enemies down with precision and he doesn't care who he works with as long as he ends up doing it in the means of peace he does whatever it takes to stay with his principles and never kill for no reason.
Brief Back Story: Angelo was born on the colonies and as a result he worked hard with what was around him but soon some of the chimera troops came in and tried to kidnap \everyone and they would have gotten Angelo and his family to if it weren't for some alliance officers that came by just in time, they protected Angelo bravely and his family left the colony before they were graciously transported to the citadel, Angelo sighed up for the alliance the very next week...
Biotic Powers(if any): (not sure if it counts) tactical cloak.
the biotic ability called tear. |
54,528 | 1,486 | 8 | 2,471 | 790 | Yes, Thank you ah... Urtum paused a second thinking.
A.L.I.S. interrupted, "Commander Venjix."
"Ah yes." He nodded and grabbed some supplies as well as a quite hefty looking pistol that he strapped to his belt. He quickly carried his things and followed the turian, "Assuming ship has nice lab. Limited time, need nice facility for testing." The Salarian went on about the experiments he was going to go through, explaining each one in extreme detail. Every so often his A.I, A.L.I.S, would have to remind the doctor to breath as he talked. After a short while an explosion sounded back near the mine and a swarm of the zombie-like creatures flooded out. "Imminent danger. Good chance to get sample. 96% chance of getting perfect specimen, not getting subject could be... Problematic for the future." Urtum shoved his supplies into Angelo's hands, "Hold supplies, will be busy." With that he ran towards the advancing horde. As he approached one, Urtum slammed his foot into the ground and launched himself over the creature, while also pulling out his pistol and shooting the creature. He made sure not to hit any vital organs or notable areas of study, but still make the shoots lethal. As he landed the Salarian wrapped his arm around the now limp figure and ran back to the group. "Perfect specimen."
A.L.I.S spoke up, "Good job sir, this will be perfect for testing."
Urtum nodded in agreement. | Name: Urtum Ezon
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Race: Salarian
Appearance:
Personality: Very intelligent, but tries not to flaunt it. He tends to avoid conflict, but can handle his own in a fight. He also has a tendency to get extremely over excited about simple scientific findings. He speaks quickly, sometimes even forgetting to breath as he talks. He voices his opinion honestly and sometimes harshly, but will be more inclined to use fact and not opinions.
Brief Back Story: Urtum spent most of his childhood in a Civilian ship's laboratory. He was bad at getting along with the other kids in the ship, what with all the time he spent in the lab and his being socially inept. Urtum's father created him an AI companion that he could talk to so he wouldn't be lonely. This AI was called A.L.I.S. which stands for Analysis, Linguistic, and Information System. He excelled in all things that dealt with science and when he got older was invited to become a part of the Salarian Special Task Force. After a few years working for the Salarian Military, he retired and became a scientist so he could pursue his true passion. He and A.L.I.S were stationed on an uncharted planet to be a part of a mining operation and is currently the lead scientist for the operation.
Biotic Powers(if any): None |
54,529 | 1,486 | 9 | 1,224 | 1,558 | Terin grinned as the moved through the tunnelsoce they reached the surface he radioed his team and they brought the shuttle out to pick them up.
"So Doctor was it? How can you be sure this thing wont reanimate i can see the cybernetics running through it." He said eyeing the lifeless body before them. | Name: Terin Venjix
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Race: Turian
Appearance:
Personality: Terin is honorable and chivalrous he always tries to do the right thing. HE may not seem like the brightest but he hides an impressive amount of intelligence which he uses to adapt in combat situations.
Brief Back Story: Terin was born and raised on the Citadel and so growing up around the Alliance made him immediately curious. As soon as he was able he joined and quickly took command of a small frigate which he named the Avalon.
Biotic Powers(if any): |
54,530 | 1,486 | 10 | 1,118 | 7,627 | If it does wake up I'll just sabotage it and he can beat it down again" Angelo told the commander knowing that it was partly synthetic Angelo want so worried about it and as they passed the hall Angelo stopped them both turning on his tactical cloak and seeing a hallways fill of those things. Now was Angelo time to shine to the commander "allow me" Angelo said while cloaked as he took out his black widow and he got ready as he took cover behind the wall and he threw a sticky grenade at the ground near them and Angelo started to shoot. His first shot was through the middle his widow making a loud bang as the bullet strikes through 5 of those things with one shot and as Angelo started to reload they ran towards him and the sticky grenade went off killing 8 of them and finally once Angelo was ready to fire again he made one last shot killing the last 4. Now the hallway was clear. ... mostly if they didn't count the guts if the things sticking to the walls. Angelo reloaded his widow only needing two shots this time. Before switching back to his assault rifle and saluting to the commander "and that just with a hallway of those things" Angelo said grinning implying he could do more in different situations.... | Name: Angelo De Ortega
Gender: Male
Age:19
Race: human
Appearance: without wings of course
Personality: a hard worker that is a peacemaker and never stops helping others and will do whatever it takes even if it means going the extra the extra mile. Angelo is an infiltrator and as a result he prefers to kill his enemies from a distance instead of a straight on fight but if the need arises he will shoot his enemies down with precision and he doesn't care who he works with as long as he ends up doing it in the means of peace he does whatever it takes to stay with his principles and never kill for no reason.
Brief Back Story: Angelo was born on the colonies and as a result he worked hard with what was around him but soon some of the chimera troops came in and tried to kidnap \everyone and they would have gotten Angelo and his family to if it weren't for some alliance officers that came by just in time, they protected Angelo bravely and his family left the colony before they were graciously transported to the citadel, Angelo sighed up for the alliance the very next week...
Biotic Powers(if any): (not sure if it counts) tactical cloak.
the biotic ability called tear. |
54,531 | 1,486 | 11 | 2,471 | 790 | Urtun nodded slightly at Angelo, "Impressive skill, but too cocky. Will screw up eventually. Better watch yourself." He didn't mean it to be rude, but the Salarian was very much socially inept and knew that offending someone was inevitable. He turned his attention to the Commander, "A.L.I.S keeping track of life signature. If reanimation process commences, will quickly stop it."
A.L.I.S spoke up, "No change in life signature, the test subject is still very much dead. There is no need to worry commander, the Doctor and I have everything under control. And if I may, Officer Angelo. The Doctor does not mean to offend you by referring to you as "Too cocky." He does very much recognize your highly advance skill. He just doesn't want you to injure yourself in a self centered stunt like he has."
Urtum quickly cut in, "Appreciate clearing things up, no more talk of the past. Don't yet know them, no need to tell to much."
"My apologies sir." A.L.I.S responded. | Name: Urtum Ezon
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Race: Salarian
Appearance:
Personality: Very intelligent, but tries not to flaunt it. He tends to avoid conflict, but can handle his own in a fight. He also has a tendency to get extremely over excited about simple scientific findings. He speaks quickly, sometimes even forgetting to breath as he talks. He voices his opinion honestly and sometimes harshly, but will be more inclined to use fact and not opinions.
Brief Back Story: Urtum spent most of his childhood in a Civilian ship's laboratory. He was bad at getting along with the other kids in the ship, what with all the time he spent in the lab and his being socially inept. Urtum's father created him an AI companion that he could talk to so he wouldn't be lonely. This AI was called A.L.I.S. which stands for Analysis, Linguistic, and Information System. He excelled in all things that dealt with science and when he got older was invited to become a part of the Salarian Special Task Force. After a few years working for the Salarian Military, he retired and became a scientist so he could pursue his true passion. He and A.L.I.S were stationed on an uncharted planet to be a part of a mining operation and is currently the lead scientist for the operation.
Biotic Powers(if any): None |
54,532 | 1,486 | 12 | 1,224 | 1,558 | Terin chuckled at the three interacting and looked up in time to see his shuttle arriving. Life a veteran he jumped aboard and began loading the gear onto the shuttle before turning to the human
"As impressive as that was I will let you know now that a stunt like that can get killed and showing off isnt good team work which is priority to me." He said as they finished loading the gear and thr specimine.
"Alright take us up." He ordered the pilot monebts later they were approaching a seemingly massive ship.
"Gentlemen, Welcome to the Avalon. Shes my pride and joy and probably the fastest frigate in alliance space." He said once they were on board. | Name: Terin Venjix
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Race: Turian
Appearance:
Personality: Terin is honorable and chivalrous he always tries to do the right thing. HE may not seem like the brightest but he hides an impressive amount of intelligence which he uses to adapt in combat situations.
Brief Back Story: Terin was born and raised on the Citadel and so growing up around the Alliance made him immediately curious. As soon as he was able he joined and quickly took command of a small frigate which he named the Avalon.
Biotic Powers(if any): |
54,533 | 1,486 | 13 | 1,118 | 7,627 | Angelo sighed a little as he followed then "don't worry I just wanted to put my skills out their for reference" Angelo said just wanting to let them know what he could do, he wasn't going to try and do something stupid during a mission just for showing off. Angelo waited with the commander and their scientist and Angelo looked up in awe seeing the giant ship the commander called Avalon. Angelo has been on big ships before but never like this and he says it was the fastest frigate in the alliance, now this was something Angelo needed to see to believe. "Sir on a mission I'm completely serious and will work hard to prove myself" Angelo said saluting the commander hoping he will request Angelo in his squad and get to stay with them. If Angelo got to work with the commander and scientist then Angelo well reach spectre status quickly | Name: Angelo De Ortega
Gender: Male
Age:19
Race: human
Appearance: without wings of course
Personality: a hard worker that is a peacemaker and never stops helping others and will do whatever it takes even if it means going the extra the extra mile. Angelo is an infiltrator and as a result he prefers to kill his enemies from a distance instead of a straight on fight but if the need arises he will shoot his enemies down with precision and he doesn't care who he works with as long as he ends up doing it in the means of peace he does whatever it takes to stay with his principles and never kill for no reason.
Brief Back Story: Angelo was born on the colonies and as a result he worked hard with what was around him but soon some of the chimera troops came in and tried to kidnap \everyone and they would have gotten Angelo and his family to if it weren't for some alliance officers that came by just in time, they protected Angelo bravely and his family left the colony before they were graciously transported to the citadel, Angelo sighed up for the alliance the very next week...
Biotic Powers(if any): (not sure if it counts) tactical cloak.
the biotic ability called tear. |
54,534 | 1,486 | 14 | 2,471 | 790 | Urtum looked at the ship in a slight astonishment, "Yes, ship structure, assuming has prototype drive core... Definitely very quick." He looked over at the Commander, "Will be excited to see what the laboratory looks like." He nodded at him with a slight smile. He looked over to Angelo as he spoke, "Commander most likely understands, want to prove ones self. Have done so before, tragic story, maybe become friends... might tell story then."
A.L.I.S joined in, "I agree with the Doctor, I'm sure the Commander has been in the same place you are in now."
Urtum chuckled a bit, "Cocky nature sometimes good to have. Young and Restless... Good traits to have. Makes one a man of action, good for leadership. Can see you being a great military leader." The Doctor patted Angelo on the shoulder, "Also good for helping with moving supplies to lab.... If you don't mind, help needed to get laboratory set up for experiments." | Name: Urtum Ezon
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Race: Salarian
Appearance:
Personality: Very intelligent, but tries not to flaunt it. He tends to avoid conflict, but can handle his own in a fight. He also has a tendency to get extremely over excited about simple scientific findings. He speaks quickly, sometimes even forgetting to breath as he talks. He voices his opinion honestly and sometimes harshly, but will be more inclined to use fact and not opinions.
Brief Back Story: Urtum spent most of his childhood in a Civilian ship's laboratory. He was bad at getting along with the other kids in the ship, what with all the time he spent in the lab and his being socially inept. Urtum's father created him an AI companion that he could talk to so he wouldn't be lonely. This AI was called A.L.I.S. which stands for Analysis, Linguistic, and Information System. He excelled in all things that dealt with science and when he got older was invited to become a part of the Salarian Special Task Force. After a few years working for the Salarian Military, he retired and became a scientist so he could pursue his true passion. He and A.L.I.S were stationed on an uncharted planet to be a part of a mining operation and is currently the lead scientist for the operation.
Biotic Powers(if any): None |
54,535 | 1,486 | 15 | 1,224 | 1,558 | Terin helped the two unload allof the equipment and looked around before hitting a small button on the nearby console.
"Miranda get down here and show our new crew members around...better start with the lab." he said calling for his Second in command. After a few moments a medium height human woman with shoulder length brown hair walked through the doorway.
"I'm here sir." she said looking to the other two. "You must be the new crew members. My name is Mira- Commander what the hell is that thing!" the woman said cutting herself off mid sentence.
"I'm not sure but the good Doctor over there wants to run some experiments on it and I gave him my full clearance." Terin replied curtly so as to tell the woman to mind her own business.
"Yes sir." she replied. "Well we had better get you to the lab then shouldn't we Doctor." she added looking to Angelo. "As I was saying my name is Miranda and I'll be showing you guys around."
"Just showing you around so no funny ideas Angelo." Terin teased nudging the human slightly. Miranda rolled her eyes and started toward the cargo lift the was off to the right of the hangar.
"Come on then boys no slacking." she said turning around slightly to wave them on ward. | Name: Terin Venjix
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Race: Turian
Appearance:
Personality: Terin is honorable and chivalrous he always tries to do the right thing. HE may not seem like the brightest but he hides an impressive amount of intelligence which he uses to adapt in combat situations.
Brief Back Story: Terin was born and raised on the Citadel and so growing up around the Alliance made him immediately curious. As soon as he was able he joined and quickly took command of a small frigate which he named the Avalon.
Biotic Powers(if any): |
54,536 | 1,486 | 16 | 1,118 | 7,627 | Angelo looked over at the doctor and said "I prefer young and ambitious then restless and yes doctor since you asked so nicely I'll help move your things to the lab" Angelo said as he blushed seeing the beautiful brunette walk into their shuttle. Angelo blushed slightly never really knowing what to say to a beautiful woman, despite Angelo being courageous when it came to women he was shy like anyone else. Angelo was a hopeless romantic; Angelo walked out following Miranda helping the doctor move his things in... | Name: Angelo De Ortega
Gender: Male
Age:19
Race: human
Appearance: without wings of course
Personality: a hard worker that is a peacemaker and never stops helping others and will do whatever it takes even if it means going the extra the extra mile. Angelo is an infiltrator and as a result he prefers to kill his enemies from a distance instead of a straight on fight but if the need arises he will shoot his enemies down with precision and he doesn't care who he works with as long as he ends up doing it in the means of peace he does whatever it takes to stay with his principles and never kill for no reason.
Brief Back Story: Angelo was born on the colonies and as a result he worked hard with what was around him but soon some of the chimera troops came in and tried to kidnap \everyone and they would have gotten Angelo and his family to if it weren't for some alliance officers that came by just in time, they protected Angelo bravely and his family left the colony before they were graciously transported to the citadel, Angelo sighed up for the alliance the very next week...
Biotic Powers(if any): (not sure if it counts) tactical cloak.
the biotic ability called tear. |
54,537 | 1,486 | 17 | 2,471 | 790 | Urtum nodded at Angelo, "Appreciated." He chuckled a bit seeing the young infiltrator's reaction when Miranda walked in. The Salarian wanted to say something, but though it best to keep it to himself. He handed Angelo a few things to carry and then picked up the carcass as they followed the woman. "Request seeing lab first. Need to set things up, don't need to see rest of ship, will figure out eventually."
"Miranda," A.L.I.S spoke up, "Is there a station that the Doctor can hook me up too? This portable device runs on a plasma battery and will end up shutting down in the near future."
The Salarian nodded in agreement, "A.I unit very helpful, would like to keep powered up." Urtum looked around the ship as they walked, "Nice structure... Built for fast space travel, one of a kind, very intriguing." | Name: Urtum Ezon
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Race: Salarian
Appearance:
Personality: Very intelligent, but tries not to flaunt it. He tends to avoid conflict, but can handle his own in a fight. He also has a tendency to get extremely over excited about simple scientific findings. He speaks quickly, sometimes even forgetting to breath as he talks. He voices his opinion honestly and sometimes harshly, but will be more inclined to use fact and not opinions.
Brief Back Story: Urtum spent most of his childhood in a Civilian ship's laboratory. He was bad at getting along with the other kids in the ship, what with all the time he spent in the lab and his being socially inept. Urtum's father created him an AI companion that he could talk to so he wouldn't be lonely. This AI was called A.L.I.S. which stands for Analysis, Linguistic, and Information System. He excelled in all things that dealt with science and when he got older was invited to become a part of the Salarian Special Task Force. After a few years working for the Salarian Military, he retired and became a scientist so he could pursue his true passion. He and A.L.I.S were stationed on an uncharted planet to be a part of a mining operation and is currently the lead scientist for the operation.
Biotic Powers(if any): None |
54,538 | 1,486 | 18 | 1,224 | 1,558 | Terin smiled to the Salarian. Just as he started to give a few more details about the ships design his comm went off and he made an excuse to leave a concerned look on his face.
"The lab should be around this corner here." Miranda said moments later as they turned a corner to a vast lab space. "The captain built this as a way for him to learn how wo modify our weapons so if he asks for yours go ahead and hand it over it'll do wonders." She said smiling before turning to Urtum. " I imagine you would wanr to get straight to work so we'll just leave you be but I'll be sure to send Angelo your way once we'rre done." She said truning and walking farther down the hall way. | Name: Terin Venjix
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Race: Turian
Appearance:
Personality: Terin is honorable and chivalrous he always tries to do the right thing. HE may not seem like the brightest but he hides an impressive amount of intelligence which he uses to adapt in combat situations.
Brief Back Story: Terin was born and raised on the Citadel and so growing up around the Alliance made him immediately curious. As soon as he was able he joined and quickly took command of a small frigate which he named the Avalon.
Biotic Powers(if any): |
54,539 | 1,486 | 19 | 1,118 | 7,627 | Angelo smiled as he put the doctors things in the lab then he left with Miranda following her to find his quarters. Angelo was shy to talk to her as he followed "thanks for the tour by the way. Your really nice to do this" Angelo said going to start a conversation with the beautiful woman. He was always shy when it came to woman and knowing hee will see her everyday is both a blessing and a curse. Hopefully she won't be on the field with them preside he will be completely flustered and won't perform as well | Name: Angelo De Ortega
Gender: Male
Age:19
Race: human
Appearance: without wings of course
Personality: a hard worker that is a peacemaker and never stops helping others and will do whatever it takes even if it means going the extra the extra mile. Angelo is an infiltrator and as a result he prefers to kill his enemies from a distance instead of a straight on fight but if the need arises he will shoot his enemies down with precision and he doesn't care who he works with as long as he ends up doing it in the means of peace he does whatever it takes to stay with his principles and never kill for no reason.
Brief Back Story: Angelo was born on the colonies and as a result he worked hard with what was around him but soon some of the chimera troops came in and tried to kidnap \everyone and they would have gotten Angelo and his family to if it weren't for some alliance officers that came by just in time, they protected Angelo bravely and his family left the colony before they were graciously transported to the citadel, Angelo sighed up for the alliance the very next week...
Biotic Powers(if any): (not sure if it counts) tactical cloak.
the biotic ability called tear. |
54,540 | 1,486 | 20 | 2,471 | 790 | Urtum slightly nodded at Miranda and then turned and started unpacking his things. After about half an hour or so, the laboratory was cluttered with research and experiment equipment. In the middle of the lab was an operation table with the strange carcass spiraled out on top of it. The room was so cluttered that it was difficult for even the Salarian to move around, "To cluttered, need to get rid of old equipment. Hope to find a shop to sell it."
"Sir, my battery life is critical. Immediate charge required." A.L.I.S alerted the doctor.
He nodded and placed the small disc inside a small hologram projector that also was built to refill the plasma charge. Once inserted a life size hologram of an Asari appeared and smiled at the doctor as it thanked him.
"Time to start experiments. Subject will be named Talen. A.L.I.S start records, will need to send occasional reports to the captain."
"Of coarse doctor, knowledge and finding on Talen are now being recorded." | Name: Urtum Ezon
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Race: Salarian
Appearance:
Personality: Very intelligent, but tries not to flaunt it. He tends to avoid conflict, but can handle his own in a fight. He also has a tendency to get extremely over excited about simple scientific findings. He speaks quickly, sometimes even forgetting to breath as he talks. He voices his opinion honestly and sometimes harshly, but will be more inclined to use fact and not opinions.
Brief Back Story: Urtum spent most of his childhood in a Civilian ship's laboratory. He was bad at getting along with the other kids in the ship, what with all the time he spent in the lab and his being socially inept. Urtum's father created him an AI companion that he could talk to so he wouldn't be lonely. This AI was called A.L.I.S. which stands for Analysis, Linguistic, and Information System. He excelled in all things that dealt with science and when he got older was invited to become a part of the Salarian Special Task Force. After a few years working for the Salarian Military, he retired and became a scientist so he could pursue his true passion. He and A.L.I.S were stationed on an uncharted planet to be a part of a mining operation and is currently the lead scientist for the operation.
Biotic Powers(if any): None |
54,541 | 1,486 | 21 | 1,224 | 1,558 | Terin walked out of his quarters shaking his head in disgust and anger. How could the council even think of trying to accuse him of abandoning his mission. He had simply picked up some help after answering a distress call and the Alliance would be getting an earful. "attention all personnel This is commander Venjix prepare to jump our destination is The Citadel," he growled into the comm letting all crew and passengers know that things could get rough. Once on the bridge he looked to his pilot and nodded once as his way of giving the order to head toward the Mass Relay. As an afterthought he decided to send a comm to the Salarian scientist in the lab. "Any news on our "special guest"? I'm quite curious as to what he is." he said as a way to keep things fairly hushed and secret. | Name: Terin Venjix
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Race: Turian
Appearance:
Personality: Terin is honorable and chivalrous he always tries to do the right thing. HE may not seem like the brightest but he hides an impressive amount of intelligence which he uses to adapt in combat situations.
Brief Back Story: Terin was born and raised on the Citadel and so growing up around the Alliance made him immediately curious. As soon as he was able he joined and quickly took command of a small frigate which he named the Avalon.
Biotic Powers(if any): |
54,542 | 1,486 | 22 | 2,471 | 790 | Urtum was staring at the carcass laying on the operating table tapping his chin when the comm from the commander came in. The Salarian took a few more seconds to look over some of the information he had gathered and spoke to his A.I unit.
"A.L.I.S, save report. Need to look into this more."
"Of coarse sir." A.L.I.S responded as The doctor contacted the commander.
"Commander, need to come to lab. Need to speak privately..." He paused for a moment, glancing at the dead subject, "Interesting information on Subject Talon, need to see for yourself." As he waited for the commander, Urtum read over the reports and studied the carcass. "Never suspected to find one, thought it myth... Interesting." | Name: Urtum Ezon
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Race: Salarian
Appearance:
Personality: Very intelligent, but tries not to flaunt it. He tends to avoid conflict, but can handle his own in a fight. He also has a tendency to get extremely over excited about simple scientific findings. He speaks quickly, sometimes even forgetting to breath as he talks. He voices his opinion honestly and sometimes harshly, but will be more inclined to use fact and not opinions.
Brief Back Story: Urtum spent most of his childhood in a Civilian ship's laboratory. He was bad at getting along with the other kids in the ship, what with all the time he spent in the lab and his being socially inept. Urtum's father created him an AI companion that he could talk to so he wouldn't be lonely. This AI was called A.L.I.S. which stands for Analysis, Linguistic, and Information System. He excelled in all things that dealt with science and when he got older was invited to become a part of the Salarian Special Task Force. After a few years working for the Salarian Military, he retired and became a scientist so he could pursue his true passion. He and A.L.I.S were stationed on an uncharted planet to be a part of a mining operation and is currently the lead scientist for the operation.
Biotic Powers(if any): None |
54,543 | 1,486 | 23 | 1,118 | 7,627 | Angelo soon got to his room and relaxed on the bed before hearing the captain say they would begin their jump to the citadel. Angelo decided that he needed to see the doctor before they got to the citadel after all he had that thing in board and Angelo wanted to make sure it wouldn't kill them from the inside like a bad horror movie. Hee walked in but he simply waited at the door for the doctor to say something | Name: Angelo De Ortega
Gender: Male
Age:19
Race: human
Appearance: without wings of course
Personality: a hard worker that is a peacemaker and never stops helping others and will do whatever it takes even if it means going the extra the extra mile. Angelo is an infiltrator and as a result he prefers to kill his enemies from a distance instead of a straight on fight but if the need arises he will shoot his enemies down with precision and he doesn't care who he works with as long as he ends up doing it in the means of peace he does whatever it takes to stay with his principles and never kill for no reason.
Brief Back Story: Angelo was born on the colonies and as a result he worked hard with what was around him but soon some of the chimera troops came in and tried to kidnap \everyone and they would have gotten Angelo and his family to if it weren't for some alliance officers that came by just in time, they protected Angelo bravely and his family left the colony before they were graciously transported to the citadel, Angelo sighed up for the alliance the very next week...
Biotic Powers(if any): (not sure if it counts) tactical cloak.
the biotic ability called tear. |
54,544 | 1,487 | 0 | 2,216 | 33 | Lights flicker on in a room that has lied in darkness for days. Tube lights bathe various objects in blinding brightness, as they come to life: a roughly oval table, multiple chairs arranged around it, light grey, sterile walls, a linoleum covered floor. Everything breathes the spirit of 'surgery room'. A pair of eyes opens, blinded by the sudden assault, blinking heavily to lessen the glaring effect. Despite the sound of the door being opened, the two eyes focus on the lights embedded in the rooms ceiling, as if they could turn them back off by just staring at them angrily - to no avail. A girl is sitting in a corner of the room, legs tucked up, arms slung around them. She doesn't seem to care for the people entering the room, even the lights can't hold her attention for long. She turns her stare back to where it was befor the assault of light - except the blackness she gazed at before had turned into the clear image of an ordinary chair. Barely audible noises, not unlike the snarl of a rabid dog escape her at this realization. Strands of unkempt hair emerge from her hood, giving off no clear impression of what color it might have had originally. It appears to be half-heartedly dyed in light blue, but also has streaks of blond, black and grey randomly splattered all over. It is unclear for how long she had been sitting there, in the lightless room. Minutes, hours, days?
The emissary entered what had internally been referred to as the 'interrogation room' with a calm expression, letting his eyes wander across the scenery before lighting up a little at the sight of Seven sitting in a corner.
"You're here. Splendid."
He receives no answer, no reaction whatsoever from her. Which is fine, he doesn't need one. The suited man closes the door before placing a stack of folders on the table, at the front end closest to the door. He moves a chair back in order to sit down on it, but instead turns around to face the door as if to expect it to open on its own, which it promptly does. Varin Soralin opens it, after being led to this place by a guard in equally formal attire as the emissary.
"Mister Soralin. Have a seat."
He acts like a businessman greeting a potential contractor, but doesn't portrait the courtesy of shaking hands, or waiting for a response. He appears like a man in total control of his surroundings, dictating the pace of everything happening.
"We'll start the briefing as soon as everyone arrived."
The next arrival doesn't take long enough for the Ventrue to sit down, but long enough for him to close the door again, pick up the dossier on top of the stack and skim a page and a half. His perfectly neutral face doesn't offer much insight of what he is reading, or if it meets his expectations. When the gate to one of the most secretive places in the Ventrue tower opens again, a young woman enters the scene.
"Miss LaVey, glad to have you with us. Make yourself comfortable while we wait for the last one to arrive."
He manages to slip in a commanding tone into the otherwise politely worded salutation, placing the folder back onto the table as soon as the new arrival sits down, surveying the faces of the attendees. His eyes arrive at Seven eventually, and for a moment it seems like he's going to speak up again, but it is not indecisiveness holding him back. He checks his wrist watch, narrowing his eyes for the fraction of a second. Wasted time was one of the few things that could make him lose his composure, and the last visitor was almost stretching the time frame by now. A few seconds of awkward silence pass. Right before anybody present can muster the breath to say something, someone knocks on the door twice, very audibly. Lloyd Haythorn is greeted as formally as the other two, and released of his entourage of no less than four guards.
"Mister Haythorn, please be seated. Now that we're all here, we can finally start the briefing."
The hint of urgency in his words was unambiguous, yet his body language does not betray his neutral expression. With calm and precise movements he closes the door as soon as the Gangrel enters, and turns around to begin his lecture - hardly giving Lloyd enough time to make himself acquainted with his surroundings, let alone introduce himself to the rest. Their host remains standing in front of the door, still neglecting the chair he reserved for himself, earlier.
"Salutations to the four of you. My name is James Louis, and I'll be your liaison for the duration of this assignment. I'll be the only one you'll report to, or direct questions at. And I must ask you to do so only within this very room. This..." -he gestures around- "...is what we refer to as the 'interrogation room'. It was built perfectly bug-proof and isolated from the outside world, and the reason for this gathering requires secrecy of such large scale. Nobody other than us will be granted access to this room for the coming days, and you're free to enter and leave as you please. The only thing I must demand is absolute discretion about any of the confidental topics discussed in here. Not a single word of the following is to be repeated outside of these walls. Failure to comply would have unfavorable consequences for all of us."
He pauses briefly after getting the mandatory threat and disclaimer out of the way, but again doesn't give the group any time to respond before he continues his monologue.
"You're all here to make up for past transgressions of the Masquerade - this is the common ground this group is founded on. -If- this mission results in acceptable success, you're all freed of your debt, how ever grave it was." -His eyes seem to rest on Lloyd specifically during this part. Louis lets his words sink in for a few seconds before picking up one of the dossiers in front of him. He slowly turns a few pages, then picks up again.
"Your task consists of two crucial points, and I am confident that you're able to fulfill both of them. First and foremost, I will introduce you to Marcus." - He puts the dossier in his hands flat on the table for everyone to see, portraying a photograph of a particularly ugly Nosferatu. The man was probably to be considered handsome for Nosferatu standards, actually looking vaguely like a really ugly junky after years of sleep deprivation and drug abuse, but he was still a pain to look at for everybody with an actual face. - "Marcus disappeared roughly two weeks ago. Not an uncommon thing for his kin, but we have reason to believe that he is a crucial piece in a greater puzzle. Few know that Marcus was one of our top information brokers. Possibly the single most important link the prince had to the underground information network. His identity was perfectly concealed, with such great care that not even the great Tung could have known - if that rings bells for any of you. We had the means to protect him if he was forced to go into hiding, in fact, you're sitting right inside these means. No place on this planet would have been more safe for him than Ventrue Tower, which leads us to believe that he did not just disappear on his own free will. And given the nature of the secrecy applied to his identity, him getting abducted can only have happened within one of two possibilities: a coincidence of astronomical magnitude, or an inside job. Since the prince does not believe in the former, we're assuming that the latter is the case, which is the reason why we are meeting in here, and the reason why I ask such secretiveness."
The speed at which mister Louis conveys these facts implies that interrupting him with questions before the monologue part has ended is not to be desired. He puts his hand on top of the stack of remaining dossiers, and shoves the top one towards the middle of the table - spreading them all out in almost perfect symmetry.
"Not long after his disappearance, a series of murders occured. We are currently counting four homicides, all of which seem unrelated at first glance, random even. But they are likely all commited by the same culprit, or group of culprits. At first we didn't recognize these as what they are - we have a dead woman in an appartment building, two wasted nondescript ghouls and an executed vampire. But with the last one, the connections became clear. Seen as a killing spree, these murders are progressively closing in on a Masquerade exposure, the last one being considered an official transgression, and all of the deceased ones are linked to Marcus one way or another. At this point, a coincidence is out of the question. Whoever is killing these guys off is a danger to our society and has to be put down. Not only is this someone or group of people exposing us more and more with every kill, they also have background information on one of our best informants, and who knows what else. This is where the official statement is set at. Sub-officially, there is even the theory that Marcus has gone rogue and is now getting rid of loose ends."
He allows himself a sigh of sorts, to dramatically indicate a new paragraph in this speech.
"However, reliable yet unscientific sources indicated that Marcus is in fact the first homicide victim. Further theories imply that the victims connections to Marcus might even be a red herring, and we're being spoonfed a false trail to move suspicion away from the actual person in charge. Considering that someone on the inside of this very building might be pulling strings, we have to lead a fake investigation in order to get to the bottom of this.
Officially, you are the second investigation team going over all the evidence and crime scenes again. You're looking for clues to find Marcus, who has been declared the prime suspect behind the series of murders. Unofficially though, you're seeking to disprove the official theory and find out who's the real perpretrator. We -know- that Marcus is dead, but whoever is playing against us isn't aware that we know. This is our only trump, our element of surprise - and the reason why you absolutely must not speak about any of this outside of the room."
A breather, longer than just the blink of an eye signals that James' speech has come to a temporary halt. He is leaning back with crossed arms so the group can properly stomach everything so far, looking at them expectantly.
"Is there anything unclear so far."
This barely sounds like a question, but is clearly intended as one. A chance for everyone to speak up and remove possible ambiguity.
________________________________________________________________________________________________
During all of this, Seven does not show any sign of attention or interest. She is sitting in her corner the exact same way as she was when the emissary entered the room. Unless payed close attention to, one could have the impression that she was a mannequin, rather than a living being - she didn't even blink since the lecture started. | Name: Seven
Apparent Age: 24
Sex: Female
Clan: Malkavian
Loyalty: indifferent
Appearance: Mostly seen in a black, slightly oversized hoodie that conceals more than one battle scar, not all of them inflicted by adversaries. Equally black, partially ripped pants and clunky boots are telling that she doesn't give much of a damn about fashion sense, one could say there's (literally) too much on her mind to worry about appearance. A dog collar is expressing her personal sense of bitter, self-ironical humor and serves in a more practical way at times. She's wearing her hair as what others would describe as a 'chaotic mess'. Seven's build can mostly be described as average and ordinary, which would be the only thing about her that fits this description.
Behavior: If one would look for her in a generic room, she'd be sitting in a corner as far away from the door as possible. She's not overly sociable and has the erratic mood swings her bloodline is known for. One moment she's curious and interested, and half a breath later she screams at your shadow with furious anger. Like most Malks, she has her moments of clarity, wisdom, reason and understanding but those are rare and hard to differentiate from batshit talk and 'regular' hallucinations. Depending on , talking to her is described between stressful and unbearable. Her speech patterns are slightly off the malkavian standard, as she's not constantly using the colorful metaphors of a feverish mind, but rather changes style, tone and wording every few sentences. Mostly every other sentence. On bad days even mid-sentence. She's fully aware of her insanity and manages to behave herself around mortals, mostly. Since her speech patterns are that irratic, telling how she feels about other vampires, clans and families is no easy feat. All in all, she either cherishes friendship with a selected few, or enjoys torturing this selected few with her antics more than others, either way she usually keeps away from crowds and sticks to those who accept her presence.
Nature of her insanity: Like other Malkavians, this one has multiple split personalities all imprisoned in one mind, but this one is well aware of it. While the 'common' Malk has more or less deep connections to the cobweb like mass of minds and voices, Seven is even uncommon for lunatics standards. It's like an amount of different aspects of herself exist seperately from each other, different emotions and moods manifested as seperate personalities. And they all are ripping, pushing and pulling on her nervous system, trying to steer the body in this or that direction. It is a constant struggle for control with herself, and the way she talks is telltale of this battle fought inside her head. While this leads to a linguistic chaos, it does not seem to impede movement, at least not much. She still defends herself with uncommon and unexpected motions, but one could not tell her blood legacy from the way she moves outside of battle (unless it's a bad day). She tried to kill herself, assaulted a close friend with deadly intent, set her own house on fire and murdered half a streets population before. Out of control she's a danger to herself and everyone around her, especially if .
Background: She doesn't remember how she became a youngblood, nor who her creator was or why she came to be this 'unique'. In fact, even her real name is known, 'Seven' is merely what the Camarilla call her. Her past is shrouded with hallucinations and the misuse of . She spent the first few years of her new life completely confused but instinctively managed to keep away from humans and vampires alike, not breaking the masquerade until she came across a paranoid Gangrel anarchist that mistook her for a Camarilla spy. An unlucky incident that involved Seven reciting the Gangrels mother, him smashing her into a dumpster and then her ripping his eyes out in front of a gang of human kids lead to her first violation of the masquerade, and the initial meeting with the Camarilla. The impractical parts of her gift, specifically the occasional crescendos of madness have led to multiple violations of the masquerade by now, and in theory she's dead twice already. is considered as valuable and has given her a few more second chances than she deserves, however the authorities patience has run out and one more major fuck-up was promised to be her last. She was also placed in a special operations unit - she knew nothing about them or their purpose, and they knew just enough to realize that another exposure caused by Seven could also be their end.
Training and general talents: Seven's not particularly fond of complicated systems like computers or lockpicks. Her physical strength is well-developed, but she'd avoid melee combat if possible, relying on obfuscate and dementation. She can handle blades and firearms sufficiently good, and weapons of choice would be a katana in one hand, a simple handgun in the other though she wouldn't carry those weapons around. It'd be too much of a hassle for her troubled mind to look after more than one weapon at a time. And her malkavian way of convincing people often enough solves a conflict without the need for bullets and blades. She's well able to pay attention to crucial details, but may also see them where there are none, where some have been or where they -will- be. If not in conflict with herself, she can be rather elaborate (seductive even) and knows what people need to hear instinctively (probably cheating with her weak albeit existing link to the cobweb). Her Auspex abilities are basically non-existant and she couldn't tell if there's a person in the next room even if they were talking to her loudly, as she doubts everything she can't see and/or feel. Also, her attention span is naturally short so letting her guard a door or object would be a really bad idea, she would probably get bored and try to destroy the object, or remove the door and carry it home to guard it under more comfortable circumstances. |
54,545 | 1,487 | 1 | 2,049 | 5,487 | A narrow corridor who's walls hung rows of upon rows of portraits of noble figures through out the ages, most of whom looked suspiciously like the same man just in clothes from different eras in time, echoed with the sound of bare feet walking against a clean marble floor. A man who looked like he was just pulled out of the dumpster out back was being escorted by four men in freshly pressed suits and identical low cut hair styles down the hall, though they looked more than reluctant to be near the man let alone touch him at all. The man who was so poorly dressed, if that word could be used at all, wore a pair of dark green cargo shorts with several burn holes in one of the legs, one could guess that they were bullet holes, and a sleeveless black T-shirt which had what could only be blood stains around the collar. The man's long dark hair hung down to his shoulder's, covering his face slightly, in tangled knots as if it hadn't been combed in weeks. The bottom of his bare feet were pitch black from what could of only of been days of not washing or wearing shoes. The man's nails were a near yellow color with grim under each, but what was the most horrifying feature about them was that each one were tipped with sharpened points, but the most monstrous part of the man's appearance had to be his eyes. They were surrounded by dark rings as if he hadn't slept in months, his brow was low in an almost permanent scowl, his pupils were thin slits, and then there was the color it self, a sickening bright yellow that waved any allusion the man was normal. The small group reached a door at the end of the hall and one of the men leading the freakish looking man knocked on it rather quickly, no doubt wanting to be rid of his duty of guarding, before opening it and ushering in his ward. A very business like voice greeted the man with the simple phrase "Mister Haythorn, please be seated..."
Lloyd took a seat, though he gave a sneer with a very low inhuman growl to James as he did so. Lloyd had already knew that he had been called to do some sort of assignment to make up for his past transgressions, but he was still not happy with having to work with a team then again he didn't like being around anybody. He moved his gaze around the room taking in account each in every person there, like a predator picking out the prize prey. His sneer seemed to grow when spotted the Toreador, he never liked the so called "artists" of the Kindred, but that paled in comparison for his distain for the Venture. He continued his scanning of the room taking not of the Brujah, him seeming to be some what tolerable. It was when he laid his eyes on the girl in the corner that Lloyd thought that there might be someone in this little group that wouldn't make him want to rip out his own throat. Lloyd, like a lot of Gangrel, preferred Malkavians over most clans mainly do to the fact they seemed to always to have some piece of honesty to their mad ramblings. Lloyd turned his attention back to the Venture who seemed to be done with his endless speech. He didn't saw a word but he did offer a slight grunt, more of a growl, to show he understood the plan though he hated the underhandedness of this whole affair. | Name: Lloyd Haythorn
Apparent Age: 22 (really is 45)
Gender: Male
Clan: Gangrel
Loyalty: Like most Gangrel Lloyd is fiercely independent and strives to be on his own, not really caring of the debates between the Camarilla and the Anarchs.
Appearance: Lloyd has messy ash black hair that falls just below his shoulders, thick eye brows and a soul strip on his chin. He stands at 6'4 in height, though he finds himself crouching on all fours quite often like most Gangrel. Lloyd has a fit body build and has incredibly pale skin like most Kindred. Both of his upper arms have the tribal tattoo of a panther chasing it's tail on them, his back having a panther pouncing tattooed on it. Lloyd would never wear clothes if that was an option but as is he makes use of old T-shirts and jeans shorts he manages to find, though trying to get shoes on the man is a task only Cain himself could accomplish. What sets Lloyd apart from other Cainites in the area of looks is his animalistic features, a trait common to Gangrel who had frenzied. His eyes are a bright yellow color with his pupils being feline like slits and each of his teeth are sharpened points, his main fangs being longer than the others. His back has a thick black pelt of fur running down it's center. His fingers and toes are pointed with sharp claws, which grow when he taps into the beast.
When Lloyd taps into his inner beast his for shifts into that of a panther like monster.
(Please ignore the jewelry)
Behavior: Lloyd on the surface is what you'd expect to see from your stereotypical Gangrel, the lone savage that would not hesitate to rip apart a kine or kindred that entered his territory with out permission, and in all honesty that is who he truly is at heart. He takes pride in his clan but only to the point that if it is the choice of his unlife or the name sake of his clan he'd choose his own secretary each time. He, like most Gangrel, holds great value of the art of the spoken word, often telling stories of his past exploits to the kindred that he deems worthy, and has respect in those who can regale him in a good tale, provided they can back up their words. Lloyd is close to his beast even by the standards of the Gangrel, not only respecting it but openly clamming a form of love for it, and would spend every hour of everyday in his Protean form if he could, which he almost archived. If asked Lloyd wouldn't hesitate to admit that he prefers the company of beasts over that of a kindred, which has lead to rumors of how far does his animal love goes.
Background: While Lloyd was alive he was a loner, having no real human interaction besides with his abusive parents who brought him into the world with no means to raise him. He was never what you'd consider extraordinary when he was among the living, not having the brains or the brawns to leave a impact on anyone, though their was one skill that he did excel at one thing he found true solace in, hunting. He was nine when he was exposed to the act of tracking and killing one's prey when he went on a hunting trip with his father, it undoubtedly being the only kind act the drunkard ever showed the boy, and quickly became fascinated with the art. Lloyd practiced his hunting skills in the forest his family's hovel of a house was built by. He'd sneak out during his parents drunken stupors and track everything from raccoons to deer that wandered the woods. He didn't find the pleasure in the kill like most, but rather the hunt it self, the thought of his prey slipping away gave him a type of high that he never experienced. Lloyd to came to the realization that he would be better off away from the poor excuses of parents he had and fending for himself, so at the ripe age of eighteen he abandoned his life and set forth on what would be a better life. Lloyd settled in what was the outskirts of L.A and for four years hunted the forests for his food, only ever venturing into the city for the supplies he couldn't provide himself, little did he know he was being watched by a whole different kind of hunter.
It was a dark rainy night and Lloyd was returning to his shack from the day's hunting when he was killed. He entered his makeshift home to be greeted by the sight of a young woman sitting on his bed. She couldn't of been a day over twenty and she looked like she had been wandering the woods for days, being covered from head to toe in layers of mud and her hair being tangled into knots, the thing that unnerved Lloyd was the aura she seemed to give off, something that told Lloyd she was something more than human. There wasn't much time for Lloyd to be in shock before the woman pounced on him and placed the kiss that all Kindred know so well. He awoke to a empty room and the words "Stay out of the light." carved into his wall by what he assumed to be claws. So began the unlife of Lloyd.
Lloyd's first nights were like all new Gangrel's, confusing, tough, and nearly unsurvivable. He spent a complete month unaware that he was a vampire, surviving on the pure instinct of the beast alone. Luckily though Lloyd was one of the few Gangrel that lasted long enough for his sire to return and begin his training and introduction into vampiric society. The training of a Gangrel has always been rather difficult for two main reasons, the first being the desire of the sire wanting their childe to learn on their own and the second being the need for the childe to unlock the primal part of their mind they had fought against all their living days. But Lloyd had found tapping into his beast rather easy, even enjoyable, to the surprise of his sire. He spent little under a year with his sire before she deemed him worthy to leave and make his own way in his unlife.
Lloyd spent two decades hunting the kine of L.A and retreating back to the forest during the day were he'd manage to evade the local Garou with relative ease. It wasn't until he turned thirty-five that Lloyd went through the phase all Gangrel are destined to go through, the Red Surrender. This phase in the Gangrel's unlife is where the calling of the beast the strongest. Though he'd be hard press to admit it he openly accepted it's call and succumbed to the beast with ease. To say that Lloyd went into a frenzy would be like saying a kindred would get a bad sunburn if they went out during the day. He went of a three month rampage across the city, attacking everything from the lone wander in the streets to groups of campers in the woods. Lloyd was the origin to the local myth "The L.A Demon" that made the headlines. His path of destruction didn't stop until he slaughtered the people of a formal party that was being held in the woods near were he was sleeping that night, unknown to him there was a local Camarilla official in attendance of the party. It was the final death of the official that turned the Camarilla onto Lloyd's trail and stopped him. They gave him a choice, face his final death or join some sort of team and wash away his violations. Needless to say Lloyd's unlife is now in the hands of a group of kindred he doesn't know, wish him luck.
Training and general talents: Lloyd is a deadly force in close quarters, mainly do to his claws which are comparable to a Garou's. If he must use a weapon though he prefers hunting knives, he always keeps one strapped to his right leg, for their quick and messy effects. He is pretty skilled with a rifle from his hunting days but he'd prefer to get up close and personal whenever possible. Lloyd had no social skills even before he was dead, so no one should be expecting him to woo or persuade anyone. Though his less than human features seem to unnerve some allowing him to intimidate others. His years of hunting gave him great investigation skill, being able to track almost anyone. Lloyd whole heartily hate computers, he'd wouldn't even carry a cell phone if he could get away with it, and if they cause him trouble he wouldn't think twice about smashing one. He isn't to skilled with lock picking, he'd rather just bust down a door. He is rather stealthy from his hunting experience, being able to go completely silent when needed. Like all Kindred his true skill lies with his disciplines, namely his Protean and Animalism. Lloyd is able to commune with almost all the animals he encounters, though if they listen to him is a different thing all together. He his able to shift into his Protean form at will but it is almost like a frenzy like state, being difficult to remain in control. Lloyd is able to sleep under the ground like some Gangrel during the day, but once he is under he doesn't know what's happening around him. He has only ever done it once before but he managed to calm another vampire's frenzied beast. |
54,546 | 1,487 | 2 | 2,583 | 649 | Varin walked down the silent hallway, hands bound together with three sets of what appeared to be titanium hinge handcuffs. As he walked a guard trailed keeping a slight distance behind him, but never breaking sight with Varin, "Reaction distance." the Brujah thought to himself with a slight smirk. As they approached a door at the end of the hallway, obviously their destination as it was the only place they could go. When they reached the door, the guard stepped in front of Varin and began removing the handcuffs before knocking and opening the door, leading Varin through when all was said and done. As he entered into the room Varin was a bit surprised at the stark sterility of the room, and how it clashed with what the Ventrue were normally "accustomed to".
"Mister Soralin. Have a seat."
Complying Varin took his seat and waited as each member of what was to be their mismatched Coterie entered into the room. "Toreador, must be, she walks too... gracefully. And a Gangrel. Interesting." He kept his thought to himself as he watched the others, the only emotion that broke the mask of observation was a quick warning glare that he shot the Gangrel, who made a growling sound as he sat " Now is not the time lad, it dose no one any good to antagonize the snake in the middle of it's nest."
At the end of the speech Varin simply inclined his head to denote he understood, no sense in making the Ventrue ramble on more. | Name: Varin Soralin
Apparent Age: 26
Gender: Male
Clan: Brujah
Loyality: Nominal, He sees the Camarilla as the lesser of two evils; Has been accused of being a Promethean in the past, a true yet unproven accusation
Appearance: Varin stands at an imposing 6’3’’, but unlike some of his more, unsavory, clan brothers he is not a muscle bound giant of a man. Instead his has a more normal build, though at the higher end of strength without the bulk. His face has a few small scars dotted around it, the largest of which begins at the tear-duct of his right eye and traces its way to his right cheekbone. His nose is slightly crooked in the middle, evidence of a break that was re-broken to allow it to set.
His light brown hair is kept at a medium/short length and is usually unkempt, though it somehow becomes straight no matter what is done to it as the day goes on. For clothing Varin keeps a simple wardrobe, jeans, a plane dark grey t-shirt, combat boots, sometimes s shoulder holster, and sometimes a hooded leather jacket. On the back of his neck he has a tattoo of two serpents wrapped around the cross bar of the Brujah crest, one going left off of the crest, the other right. The serpents curve around his neck until they reach his shoulders where they wind their way down each arm, their head resting on the back of his hands. The one on his right hand has its eyes closed and clutches a sword in its mouth, the one on the left has its eyes open and clutches a scroll in its mouth.
Behavior: Calm, Varin strike a balance between the members of his clan and the idealistic elders. Instead he strives to be like the Philosopher Soldiers of old, finding comfort in philosophy and books as well as the field of combat and blood. This has tempered his mind and helped him to suppress the hot blood that has made the Brujah infamous to the other Clans. Now this calm control doesn't mean he has lost his killing edge, if anything its made him a better killer. Its just that now, instead of a quick spontaneous eruption of passion and anger, he is now more like a rolling storm, powerful and deadly, though he may still fall prone to the berserker like rage that has gripped the Brujah during combat, when this happens the storm of seething anger becomes a red tinted world where the only thing that matters is that the Offender(s) must die.
Though he knows the Carthaginian dream is long dead, what it stood for has not yet. In this Varin holds to some of the Promethean ideals concerning Mortals . Such as "guiding" them, and protecting them from some of the more predatory Cainites, if the needs arise. This is his drive, his passion, the drive that gives him purpose. It is the drive for something better, something more.
Background: 19th of December, 1944 was the day Varin died. He died to a cacophony of gunshots and artillery shells, the light cracks and earth shattering explosions playing off of each other like some macabre symphony. Yet almost none of that mattered as he sat up against the side of his foxhole, his life ebbed out through the multiple bullet wounds and shrapnel tears. Seconds became hours, as he tried franticly again and again to crawl out, to crawl somewhere other than that god forsaken hole in the ground, but again and again he failed, gritting his teeth in frustration he tried one last time. This time as he clawed at the frozen ground and roots he got hold and finally pulled himself out. That’s when he heard it, laughing. “You finally did it, eh boy?” The speaker was a man, not far off of Varins right shoulder, though it was below freezing he still wore the normal American army fatigues. Varin tried to reply, what came out was a gurgle as he slumped down for what e expected to be the last time. The next thing he knew he was being picked up, the man had him around the waist and was hoisting Varin up with one arm “I don’t hope dying is on your agenda there boy. I might need you, besides we need to replace Thomas.” The strange man dragged him to a snow pile flanked by what looked like two large felled trees. As the man reached out and knocked the semi conscious Varin realized that the snow pile was actually a carefully constructed, and well hidden, den like structure. As they entered into the small hut Varin was deposited on floor. In the dim light, the human made out another figure other than the one who had carried him. “Demitri, this one is half dead.” One of the shadowy figures said
“I know darling, I know, but that can change. Did for me, remember?” He replied half jokingly
“All I remember was finding you with a musket ball through your left lung.” The other replied “In any case, why him?”
“I, dunno, must have seen something I liked.” After this Varin began to convulse as his vision blurred, his breath coming in short sporadic bursts as he finally began to slip away “Please Serrana? You always do say that war makes good Brujah.”
“Fine. But the prince won’t like this, not that you care.” The other figure said as she glided over to Varin. Varin at that point was slipping away, his vision going dark as he felt the cool touch of something on his neck.
He awoke soon after, wounds totally healed, and to the faces of Demitri and Serrana. He soon learned what had transpired, Serrana was the eldest of the two and Demitri’s sire. Demitri had been turned be Serrana after he had been wounded as a Prussian mercenary in the American Revolutionary War. Varin stayed with the two Brujah through the war and for about a decade afterword, Demitri training him in weaponry because as he said “A Brujah that cannot fight, is a dead Brujah. You will fight and you will live.”, and Serrana training him in the philosophy of old and the disciplines that come with the blood because “A Brujah must know how to fight with more than steel, they must be more. Or they are nothing more than disposable pawns.”
After this decade they moved back to America, working at various jobs within the Camarilla, usually as a guard of some sort. It was here he began to learn about the ancient Brujah and the story of Carthage, becoming enthralled with it Varin began to read more and more into the Prometheans, going as far as adopting some of their practices and teachings. His breach of the Masquerade came when he learned that Demitri and Serrana had both been driven into Torpor by unknown agents. Varin did what any sensible Brujah would do when he learned his oldest friend and sire were driven into the death-like sleep. He lashed out. The long controlled passion and anger came flooding forth, by the end of the night he had mangled two other Vampires and used the dread gaze on a human, causing them to run down a crowded street screaming about creatures.
Training and general talents: Varin transcends the stereotype of the Brujah brawler, using his skill in the Presence domain he can appear as a great force to be revered or a storm to be feared, he uses this to keep his opponents off balance, unnerving them, or simply terrifying them. This mixed with his Potence makes Varin a frightening force, even his Celerity factors in, giving him a certain grace when fighting. In combat he generally uses either his handgun, or the two folding axes that he uses with practiced efficiency and lethality.
Not a player of the political chess game, most would see Varin as an easy target, someone with no ambition, an easy target to use and discard. In this they would be wrong, although he doesn't play their game he has thrown his own lot and skill into an older game, and so views the subtle working of the Camarilla with no small measure of distaste. While he can use one, he is not that talented with computers. He can lock-pick most locks, provided he has the tools. And can repair, clean and upkeep most weapons. Like most of his clan stealth is a..... problem. Even though he is gifted with some grace from his celerity, the urge to fight an opponent head on, with savage honor, has always been on the forefront of any conflict hes been in. Finally, he is an accomplished Kindred scholar who has knack for the stories of old, this may have something to do with the "Book Of Nod" he keeps in a hidden lock-box, away from prying Camarilla eyes. |
54,547 | 1,487 | 3 | 2,216 | 33 | James only nods, counting the absence of questions as a 'no'.
"So. If anybody asked, you'd say that you're hunting a traitor. If -I- ask you, outside of this room, you'd also be hunting Marcus. This is what you'll tell our men standing guard at the crime scenes, what you converse about when you're anywhere other than here. No exceptions. No mention of the actual theory. Nobody is in on this other than you, me, and LaCroix."
As if to signify that he's done with the topic, James finally sits down on the chair he kept avoiding until now. This could mean one of two things: either he was done with the most serious issue...or he was just about to get to it.
"That is the first half of your job. From what I know about you, you should be able to succeed at it reasonably well. Besides dossiers to the murder victims, full access to the crime scenes and suitable apartments inside the tower, there's one more thing we'll supply you with."
-His eyes turn towards the corner where a certain Malkavian is sitting, remaining there for a brief moment of silence before he continues.-
"One of the best interrogators at our disposal. Seven is very gifted at getting each and any information out of a person, if need be. This might help you greatly if you run into possible suspects and witnesses. However..." -His gaze turns back to the others, looking at all of them sternly, yet none of them in specific.- "...you must not lose her under any circumstance. Don't let her out of sight, don't let any harm come to her, don't leave her alone. Specifically no breaks of the Masquerade. She's in the same boat as you, and her next transgression -will- be her last. You're not allowed to let this happen. If you have to decide between the mission and Sevens well-being, decide in her favor. It's unlikely that the murderer - or murderers know how useful she is, but losing her is a failure condition of this endeavor. There's..."
The repeated mention of her name actually seems to wake up the girl, which is only implied by her expression growing more and more sour. Until she interrupts the speaker, that is.
"I'm not a damn car key, jerk." - she declares in an incredibly monotone voice, which doesn't take away from the fact that she just openly insulted their host. James however only portrays an odd grin. Odd because it doesn't quite seem to suit his face. Even through the mask of perfect composure, the attentive observer could see how much this displeases him, but for some reason he refrains from reacting. It's obvious that he doesn't tolerate such behavior, yet he forces himself to take it as a jest. His words sound a lot colder for the entirety of the following sentence, though.
"Part of your qualification for this job is your capacity to restrain someone by force, should a situation arise. Expect this to be necessary."
If Seven understands James' implication, she doesn't show it. She doesn't really react to anything other than her name, it seems as if James angered her by using it and turned irrelevant shortly afterwards. The girl returns to staring at nothing in particular.
"She is the wild card up our sleeve. There's no telling what she'll be able to find out by 'asking nicely', or even just visiting the crime scenes..."
He made it sound pretty easy considering the group had to put up with the antics of a Malkavian. And Seven was not just your everyday run-of-the-mill maniac, either.
"Ideally, this whole deal will be over sooner than we all expect. The fine lady..." -he nods towards the corner- "...pointing at a random passenger and you taking them out, for example. Uncover who's behind the killing spree and bring them back to me. Or have Seven 'interrogate' the culprit, she -will- be able to tell if you got the right person, and if she passes judgement you're allowed to end them where they stand. Then you get your clean slate. Simple enough, isn't it?"
He folds his hands, leaning back. It feels like there won't be much more explanation from here on out, unless someone demanded it. This impression is reinforced by the Ventrue throwing a glance at his watch - an unfitting gesture considering the gravity of this matter. | Name: Seven
Apparent Age: 24
Sex: Female
Clan: Malkavian
Loyalty: indifferent
Appearance: Mostly seen in a black, slightly oversized hoodie that conceals more than one battle scar, not all of them inflicted by adversaries. Equally black, partially ripped pants and clunky boots are telling that she doesn't give much of a damn about fashion sense, one could say there's (literally) too much on her mind to worry about appearance. A dog collar is expressing her personal sense of bitter, self-ironical humor and serves in a more practical way at times. She's wearing her hair as what others would describe as a 'chaotic mess'. Seven's build can mostly be described as average and ordinary, which would be the only thing about her that fits this description.
Behavior: If one would look for her in a generic room, she'd be sitting in a corner as far away from the door as possible. She's not overly sociable and has the erratic mood swings her bloodline is known for. One moment she's curious and interested, and half a breath later she screams at your shadow with furious anger. Like most Malks, she has her moments of clarity, wisdom, reason and understanding but those are rare and hard to differentiate from batshit talk and 'regular' hallucinations. Depending on , talking to her is described between stressful and unbearable. Her speech patterns are slightly off the malkavian standard, as she's not constantly using the colorful metaphors of a feverish mind, but rather changes style, tone and wording every few sentences. Mostly every other sentence. On bad days even mid-sentence. She's fully aware of her insanity and manages to behave herself around mortals, mostly. Since her speech patterns are that irratic, telling how she feels about other vampires, clans and families is no easy feat. All in all, she either cherishes friendship with a selected few, or enjoys torturing this selected few with her antics more than others, either way she usually keeps away from crowds and sticks to those who accept her presence.
Nature of her insanity: Like other Malkavians, this one has multiple split personalities all imprisoned in one mind, but this one is well aware of it. While the 'common' Malk has more or less deep connections to the cobweb like mass of minds and voices, Seven is even uncommon for lunatics standards. It's like an amount of different aspects of herself exist seperately from each other, different emotions and moods manifested as seperate personalities. And they all are ripping, pushing and pulling on her nervous system, trying to steer the body in this or that direction. It is a constant struggle for control with herself, and the way she talks is telltale of this battle fought inside her head. While this leads to a linguistic chaos, it does not seem to impede movement, at least not much. She still defends herself with uncommon and unexpected motions, but one could not tell her blood legacy from the way she moves outside of battle (unless it's a bad day). She tried to kill herself, assaulted a close friend with deadly intent, set her own house on fire and murdered half a streets population before. Out of control she's a danger to herself and everyone around her, especially if .
Background: She doesn't remember how she became a youngblood, nor who her creator was or why she came to be this 'unique'. In fact, even her real name is known, 'Seven' is merely what the Camarilla call her. Her past is shrouded with hallucinations and the misuse of . She spent the first few years of her new life completely confused but instinctively managed to keep away from humans and vampires alike, not breaking the masquerade until she came across a paranoid Gangrel anarchist that mistook her for a Camarilla spy. An unlucky incident that involved Seven reciting the Gangrels mother, him smashing her into a dumpster and then her ripping his eyes out in front of a gang of human kids lead to her first violation of the masquerade, and the initial meeting with the Camarilla. The impractical parts of her gift, specifically the occasional crescendos of madness have led to multiple violations of the masquerade by now, and in theory she's dead twice already. is considered as valuable and has given her a few more second chances than she deserves, however the authorities patience has run out and one more major fuck-up was promised to be her last. She was also placed in a special operations unit - she knew nothing about them or their purpose, and they knew just enough to realize that another exposure caused by Seven could also be their end.
Training and general talents: Seven's not particularly fond of complicated systems like computers or lockpicks. Her physical strength is well-developed, but she'd avoid melee combat if possible, relying on obfuscate and dementation. She can handle blades and firearms sufficiently good, and weapons of choice would be a katana in one hand, a simple handgun in the other though she wouldn't carry those weapons around. It'd be too much of a hassle for her troubled mind to look after more than one weapon at a time. And her malkavian way of convincing people often enough solves a conflict without the need for bullets and blades. She's well able to pay attention to crucial details, but may also see them where there are none, where some have been or where they -will- be. If not in conflict with herself, she can be rather elaborate (seductive even) and knows what people need to hear instinctively (probably cheating with her weak albeit existing link to the cobweb). Her Auspex abilities are basically non-existant and she couldn't tell if there's a person in the next room even if they were talking to her loudly, as she doubts everything she can't see and/or feel. Also, her attention span is naturally short so letting her guard a door or object would be a really bad idea, she would probably get bored and try to destroy the object, or remove the door and carry it home to guard it under more comfortable circumstances. |
54,548 | 1,487 | 4 | 2,049 | 5,487 | Lloyd let out another low growl as he leaned forward in his seat, tapping one of his clawed fingers on the table. "So not only are we to find this murderer, but we are to babysit this Malkavian that at any moment that can point to some random kine and are to capture or kill it without a second thought?" He said with a sneer and a tone of annoyance. "Excuse the savage for not seeing the grave insight that was put into that plan, but who am I to question the all knowing Camarilla. Not like you have ever been wrong in the past." He said with the same scolding tone. He was still tapping his claw on the table, by this point he had made a decent sized scratch mark into the wood. Lloyd moved his gaze back over to the girl sitting in the corner. He looked her over a moment, his scolding expression seeming to soften for a moment as he did so. He turned back to James, regaining his icy glare. "And what if she 'foresees' that a Camarilla official is the or one of the murderers? Is it within our right to bring them their final death?" He said raising a brow slightly. "And if it's all the same I am not staying in this tower. The park down the way will suffice as a suitable replacement for the woods." | Name: Lloyd Haythorn
Apparent Age: 22 (really is 45)
Gender: Male
Clan: Gangrel
Loyalty: Like most Gangrel Lloyd is fiercely independent and strives to be on his own, not really caring of the debates between the Camarilla and the Anarchs.
Appearance: Lloyd has messy ash black hair that falls just below his shoulders, thick eye brows and a soul strip on his chin. He stands at 6'4 in height, though he finds himself crouching on all fours quite often like most Gangrel. Lloyd has a fit body build and has incredibly pale skin like most Kindred. Both of his upper arms have the tribal tattoo of a panther chasing it's tail on them, his back having a panther pouncing tattooed on it. Lloyd would never wear clothes if that was an option but as is he makes use of old T-shirts and jeans shorts he manages to find, though trying to get shoes on the man is a task only Cain himself could accomplish. What sets Lloyd apart from other Cainites in the area of looks is his animalistic features, a trait common to Gangrel who had frenzied. His eyes are a bright yellow color with his pupils being feline like slits and each of his teeth are sharpened points, his main fangs being longer than the others. His back has a thick black pelt of fur running down it's center. His fingers and toes are pointed with sharp claws, which grow when he taps into the beast.
When Lloyd taps into his inner beast his for shifts into that of a panther like monster.
(Please ignore the jewelry)
Behavior: Lloyd on the surface is what you'd expect to see from your stereotypical Gangrel, the lone savage that would not hesitate to rip apart a kine or kindred that entered his territory with out permission, and in all honesty that is who he truly is at heart. He takes pride in his clan but only to the point that if it is the choice of his unlife or the name sake of his clan he'd choose his own secretary each time. He, like most Gangrel, holds great value of the art of the spoken word, often telling stories of his past exploits to the kindred that he deems worthy, and has respect in those who can regale him in a good tale, provided they can back up their words. Lloyd is close to his beast even by the standards of the Gangrel, not only respecting it but openly clamming a form of love for it, and would spend every hour of everyday in his Protean form if he could, which he almost archived. If asked Lloyd wouldn't hesitate to admit that he prefers the company of beasts over that of a kindred, which has lead to rumors of how far does his animal love goes.
Background: While Lloyd was alive he was a loner, having no real human interaction besides with his abusive parents who brought him into the world with no means to raise him. He was never what you'd consider extraordinary when he was among the living, not having the brains or the brawns to leave a impact on anyone, though their was one skill that he did excel at one thing he found true solace in, hunting. He was nine when he was exposed to the act of tracking and killing one's prey when he went on a hunting trip with his father, it undoubtedly being the only kind act the drunkard ever showed the boy, and quickly became fascinated with the art. Lloyd practiced his hunting skills in the forest his family's hovel of a house was built by. He'd sneak out during his parents drunken stupors and track everything from raccoons to deer that wandered the woods. He didn't find the pleasure in the kill like most, but rather the hunt it self, the thought of his prey slipping away gave him a type of high that he never experienced. Lloyd to came to the realization that he would be better off away from the poor excuses of parents he had and fending for himself, so at the ripe age of eighteen he abandoned his life and set forth on what would be a better life. Lloyd settled in what was the outskirts of L.A and for four years hunted the forests for his food, only ever venturing into the city for the supplies he couldn't provide himself, little did he know he was being watched by a whole different kind of hunter.
It was a dark rainy night and Lloyd was returning to his shack from the day's hunting when he was killed. He entered his makeshift home to be greeted by the sight of a young woman sitting on his bed. She couldn't of been a day over twenty and she looked like she had been wandering the woods for days, being covered from head to toe in layers of mud and her hair being tangled into knots, the thing that unnerved Lloyd was the aura she seemed to give off, something that told Lloyd she was something more than human. There wasn't much time for Lloyd to be in shock before the woman pounced on him and placed the kiss that all Kindred know so well. He awoke to a empty room and the words "Stay out of the light." carved into his wall by what he assumed to be claws. So began the unlife of Lloyd.
Lloyd's first nights were like all new Gangrel's, confusing, tough, and nearly unsurvivable. He spent a complete month unaware that he was a vampire, surviving on the pure instinct of the beast alone. Luckily though Lloyd was one of the few Gangrel that lasted long enough for his sire to return and begin his training and introduction into vampiric society. The training of a Gangrel has always been rather difficult for two main reasons, the first being the desire of the sire wanting their childe to learn on their own and the second being the need for the childe to unlock the primal part of their mind they had fought against all their living days. But Lloyd had found tapping into his beast rather easy, even enjoyable, to the surprise of his sire. He spent little under a year with his sire before she deemed him worthy to leave and make his own way in his unlife.
Lloyd spent two decades hunting the kine of L.A and retreating back to the forest during the day were he'd manage to evade the local Garou with relative ease. It wasn't until he turned thirty-five that Lloyd went through the phase all Gangrel are destined to go through, the Red Surrender. This phase in the Gangrel's unlife is where the calling of the beast the strongest. Though he'd be hard press to admit it he openly accepted it's call and succumbed to the beast with ease. To say that Lloyd went into a frenzy would be like saying a kindred would get a bad sunburn if they went out during the day. He went of a three month rampage across the city, attacking everything from the lone wander in the streets to groups of campers in the woods. Lloyd was the origin to the local myth "The L.A Demon" that made the headlines. His path of destruction didn't stop until he slaughtered the people of a formal party that was being held in the woods near were he was sleeping that night, unknown to him there was a local Camarilla official in attendance of the party. It was the final death of the official that turned the Camarilla onto Lloyd's trail and stopped him. They gave him a choice, face his final death or join some sort of team and wash away his violations. Needless to say Lloyd's unlife is now in the hands of a group of kindred he doesn't know, wish him luck.
Training and general talents: Lloyd is a deadly force in close quarters, mainly do to his claws which are comparable to a Garou's. If he must use a weapon though he prefers hunting knives, he always keeps one strapped to his right leg, for their quick and messy effects. He is pretty skilled with a rifle from his hunting days but he'd prefer to get up close and personal whenever possible. Lloyd had no social skills even before he was dead, so no one should be expecting him to woo or persuade anyone. Though his less than human features seem to unnerve some allowing him to intimidate others. His years of hunting gave him great investigation skill, being able to track almost anyone. Lloyd whole heartily hate computers, he'd wouldn't even carry a cell phone if he could get away with it, and if they cause him trouble he wouldn't think twice about smashing one. He isn't to skilled with lock picking, he'd rather just bust down a door. He is rather stealthy from his hunting experience, being able to go completely silent when needed. Like all Kindred his true skill lies with his disciplines, namely his Protean and Animalism. Lloyd is able to commune with almost all the animals he encounters, though if they listen to him is a different thing all together. He his able to shift into his Protean form at will but it is almost like a frenzy like state, being difficult to remain in control. Lloyd is able to sleep under the ground like some Gangrel during the day, but once he is under he doesn't know what's happening around him. He has only ever done it once before but he managed to calm another vampire's frenzied beast. |
54,549 | 1,487 | 5 | 2,216 | 33 | James narrows his eyes on Lloyd for a brief moment before answering in a surprisingly calm tone, considering those more provoking statements.
"Yes, Mister Haythorn, correct in all points. I am glad that you were able to follow. You don't have to bother with the grave insight of this undertaking, just with the execution. She says 'fetch', and you fetch, to put it bluntly." He keeps his neutral and cold stare up when Lloyd looks over to the girl. No indication is given if he is hiding his anger over the Gangrel, or if he truly feels indifferent about his words. His entire demeanor so far would imply the latter, but he might as well just be a pretty good actor.
"And, of course, you are free to act as you see fit -if- Seven declares a Camarilla offical as one of the culprits. You are to trust in her judgement, no exceptions. Not for the Camarilla, not for either one of you, not even for me." He doesn't even comment on Lloyds rejection of the apartments, obviously he could hardly care less. The same could be assumed for the condition the tables surface was in, by now.
"Anything else?", the Ventrue asks, surveying the faces of his other two guests at the table. | Name: Seven
Apparent Age: 24
Sex: Female
Clan: Malkavian
Loyalty: indifferent
Appearance: Mostly seen in a black, slightly oversized hoodie that conceals more than one battle scar, not all of them inflicted by adversaries. Equally black, partially ripped pants and clunky boots are telling that she doesn't give much of a damn about fashion sense, one could say there's (literally) too much on her mind to worry about appearance. A dog collar is expressing her personal sense of bitter, self-ironical humor and serves in a more practical way at times. She's wearing her hair as what others would describe as a 'chaotic mess'. Seven's build can mostly be described as average and ordinary, which would be the only thing about her that fits this description.
Behavior: If one would look for her in a generic room, she'd be sitting in a corner as far away from the door as possible. She's not overly sociable and has the erratic mood swings her bloodline is known for. One moment she's curious and interested, and half a breath later she screams at your shadow with furious anger. Like most Malks, she has her moments of clarity, wisdom, reason and understanding but those are rare and hard to differentiate from batshit talk and 'regular' hallucinations. Depending on , talking to her is described between stressful and unbearable. Her speech patterns are slightly off the malkavian standard, as she's not constantly using the colorful metaphors of a feverish mind, but rather changes style, tone and wording every few sentences. Mostly every other sentence. On bad days even mid-sentence. She's fully aware of her insanity and manages to behave herself around mortals, mostly. Since her speech patterns are that irratic, telling how she feels about other vampires, clans and families is no easy feat. All in all, she either cherishes friendship with a selected few, or enjoys torturing this selected few with her antics more than others, either way she usually keeps away from crowds and sticks to those who accept her presence.
Nature of her insanity: Like other Malkavians, this one has multiple split personalities all imprisoned in one mind, but this one is well aware of it. While the 'common' Malk has more or less deep connections to the cobweb like mass of minds and voices, Seven is even uncommon for lunatics standards. It's like an amount of different aspects of herself exist seperately from each other, different emotions and moods manifested as seperate personalities. And they all are ripping, pushing and pulling on her nervous system, trying to steer the body in this or that direction. It is a constant struggle for control with herself, and the way she talks is telltale of this battle fought inside her head. While this leads to a linguistic chaos, it does not seem to impede movement, at least not much. She still defends herself with uncommon and unexpected motions, but one could not tell her blood legacy from the way she moves outside of battle (unless it's a bad day). She tried to kill herself, assaulted a close friend with deadly intent, set her own house on fire and murdered half a streets population before. Out of control she's a danger to herself and everyone around her, especially if .
Background: She doesn't remember how she became a youngblood, nor who her creator was or why she came to be this 'unique'. In fact, even her real name is known, 'Seven' is merely what the Camarilla call her. Her past is shrouded with hallucinations and the misuse of . She spent the first few years of her new life completely confused but instinctively managed to keep away from humans and vampires alike, not breaking the masquerade until she came across a paranoid Gangrel anarchist that mistook her for a Camarilla spy. An unlucky incident that involved Seven reciting the Gangrels mother, him smashing her into a dumpster and then her ripping his eyes out in front of a gang of human kids lead to her first violation of the masquerade, and the initial meeting with the Camarilla. The impractical parts of her gift, specifically the occasional crescendos of madness have led to multiple violations of the masquerade by now, and in theory she's dead twice already. is considered as valuable and has given her a few more second chances than she deserves, however the authorities patience has run out and one more major fuck-up was promised to be her last. She was also placed in a special operations unit - she knew nothing about them or their purpose, and they knew just enough to realize that another exposure caused by Seven could also be their end.
Training and general talents: Seven's not particularly fond of complicated systems like computers or lockpicks. Her physical strength is well-developed, but she'd avoid melee combat if possible, relying on obfuscate and dementation. She can handle blades and firearms sufficiently good, and weapons of choice would be a katana in one hand, a simple handgun in the other though she wouldn't carry those weapons around. It'd be too much of a hassle for her troubled mind to look after more than one weapon at a time. And her malkavian way of convincing people often enough solves a conflict without the need for bullets and blades. She's well able to pay attention to crucial details, but may also see them where there are none, where some have been or where they -will- be. If not in conflict with herself, she can be rather elaborate (seductive even) and knows what people need to hear instinctively (probably cheating with her weak albeit existing link to the cobweb). Her Auspex abilities are basically non-existant and she couldn't tell if there's a person in the next room even if they were talking to her loudly, as she doubts everything she can't see and/or feel. Also, her attention span is naturally short so letting her guard a door or object would be a really bad idea, she would probably get bored and try to destroy the object, or remove the door and carry it home to guard it under more comfortable circumstances. |
54,550 | 1,487 | 6 | 2,583 | 649 | Something isn't right about this. It's too... easy. If it was a simple murderer, even one who has killed several kindred, they would have released their new blooded dogs and be done with it. Verin thought to himself silently as the Gangrel spoke "And what about this Oracle? Perhaps she will lead us to the Murderer as he said, but what is her stake? And if she is so valuable why risk her on a mission like this... it's too odd. No, more than that, it's too simple, and with the Ventrue nothing is ever, simple."
"Seems straightforward enough." Verin said, a tone of boredom masking his inner thoughts "I do have two questions myself though. About our, equipment, both what was taken from us when we were arrested and what we might require, will you be providing them or will we be on our own. And secondly, expanding on what my more wild counterpart asked, what if our target is part of the Sabbat or a Glasswalker? Are we prepared for any retribution that may arise from this little adventure of ours?" "Better yet are we prepared for what we may discover." He added silently | Name: Varin Soralin
Apparent Age: 26
Gender: Male
Clan: Brujah
Loyality: Nominal, He sees the Camarilla as the lesser of two evils; Has been accused of being a Promethean in the past, a true yet unproven accusation
Appearance: Varin stands at an imposing 6’3’’, but unlike some of his more, unsavory, clan brothers he is not a muscle bound giant of a man. Instead his has a more normal build, though at the higher end of strength without the bulk. His face has a few small scars dotted around it, the largest of which begins at the tear-duct of his right eye and traces its way to his right cheekbone. His nose is slightly crooked in the middle, evidence of a break that was re-broken to allow it to set.
His light brown hair is kept at a medium/short length and is usually unkempt, though it somehow becomes straight no matter what is done to it as the day goes on. For clothing Varin keeps a simple wardrobe, jeans, a plane dark grey t-shirt, combat boots, sometimes s shoulder holster, and sometimes a hooded leather jacket. On the back of his neck he has a tattoo of two serpents wrapped around the cross bar of the Brujah crest, one going left off of the crest, the other right. The serpents curve around his neck until they reach his shoulders where they wind their way down each arm, their head resting on the back of his hands. The one on his right hand has its eyes closed and clutches a sword in its mouth, the one on the left has its eyes open and clutches a scroll in its mouth.
Behavior: Calm, Varin strike a balance between the members of his clan and the idealistic elders. Instead he strives to be like the Philosopher Soldiers of old, finding comfort in philosophy and books as well as the field of combat and blood. This has tempered his mind and helped him to suppress the hot blood that has made the Brujah infamous to the other Clans. Now this calm control doesn't mean he has lost his killing edge, if anything its made him a better killer. Its just that now, instead of a quick spontaneous eruption of passion and anger, he is now more like a rolling storm, powerful and deadly, though he may still fall prone to the berserker like rage that has gripped the Brujah during combat, when this happens the storm of seething anger becomes a red tinted world where the only thing that matters is that the Offender(s) must die.
Though he knows the Carthaginian dream is long dead, what it stood for has not yet. In this Varin holds to some of the Promethean ideals concerning Mortals . Such as "guiding" them, and protecting them from some of the more predatory Cainites, if the needs arise. This is his drive, his passion, the drive that gives him purpose. It is the drive for something better, something more.
Background: 19th of December, 1944 was the day Varin died. He died to a cacophony of gunshots and artillery shells, the light cracks and earth shattering explosions playing off of each other like some macabre symphony. Yet almost none of that mattered as he sat up against the side of his foxhole, his life ebbed out through the multiple bullet wounds and shrapnel tears. Seconds became hours, as he tried franticly again and again to crawl out, to crawl somewhere other than that god forsaken hole in the ground, but again and again he failed, gritting his teeth in frustration he tried one last time. This time as he clawed at the frozen ground and roots he got hold and finally pulled himself out. That’s when he heard it, laughing. “You finally did it, eh boy?” The speaker was a man, not far off of Varins right shoulder, though it was below freezing he still wore the normal American army fatigues. Varin tried to reply, what came out was a gurgle as he slumped down for what e expected to be the last time. The next thing he knew he was being picked up, the man had him around the waist and was hoisting Varin up with one arm “I don’t hope dying is on your agenda there boy. I might need you, besides we need to replace Thomas.” The strange man dragged him to a snow pile flanked by what looked like two large felled trees. As the man reached out and knocked the semi conscious Varin realized that the snow pile was actually a carefully constructed, and well hidden, den like structure. As they entered into the small hut Varin was deposited on floor. In the dim light, the human made out another figure other than the one who had carried him. “Demitri, this one is half dead.” One of the shadowy figures said
“I know darling, I know, but that can change. Did for me, remember?” He replied half jokingly
“All I remember was finding you with a musket ball through your left lung.” The other replied “In any case, why him?”
“I, dunno, must have seen something I liked.” After this Varin began to convulse as his vision blurred, his breath coming in short sporadic bursts as he finally began to slip away “Please Serrana? You always do say that war makes good Brujah.”
“Fine. But the prince won’t like this, not that you care.” The other figure said as she glided over to Varin. Varin at that point was slipping away, his vision going dark as he felt the cool touch of something on his neck.
He awoke soon after, wounds totally healed, and to the faces of Demitri and Serrana. He soon learned what had transpired, Serrana was the eldest of the two and Demitri’s sire. Demitri had been turned be Serrana after he had been wounded as a Prussian mercenary in the American Revolutionary War. Varin stayed with the two Brujah through the war and for about a decade afterword, Demitri training him in weaponry because as he said “A Brujah that cannot fight, is a dead Brujah. You will fight and you will live.”, and Serrana training him in the philosophy of old and the disciplines that come with the blood because “A Brujah must know how to fight with more than steel, they must be more. Or they are nothing more than disposable pawns.”
After this decade they moved back to America, working at various jobs within the Camarilla, usually as a guard of some sort. It was here he began to learn about the ancient Brujah and the story of Carthage, becoming enthralled with it Varin began to read more and more into the Prometheans, going as far as adopting some of their practices and teachings. His breach of the Masquerade came when he learned that Demitri and Serrana had both been driven into Torpor by unknown agents. Varin did what any sensible Brujah would do when he learned his oldest friend and sire were driven into the death-like sleep. He lashed out. The long controlled passion and anger came flooding forth, by the end of the night he had mangled two other Vampires and used the dread gaze on a human, causing them to run down a crowded street screaming about creatures.
Training and general talents: Varin transcends the stereotype of the Brujah brawler, using his skill in the Presence domain he can appear as a great force to be revered or a storm to be feared, he uses this to keep his opponents off balance, unnerving them, or simply terrifying them. This mixed with his Potence makes Varin a frightening force, even his Celerity factors in, giving him a certain grace when fighting. In combat he generally uses either his handgun, or the two folding axes that he uses with practiced efficiency and lethality.
Not a player of the political chess game, most would see Varin as an easy target, someone with no ambition, an easy target to use and discard. In this they would be wrong, although he doesn't play their game he has thrown his own lot and skill into an older game, and so views the subtle working of the Camarilla with no small measure of distaste. While he can use one, he is not that talented with computers. He can lock-pick most locks, provided he has the tools. And can repair, clean and upkeep most weapons. Like most of his clan stealth is a..... problem. Even though he is gifted with some grace from his celerity, the urge to fight an opponent head on, with savage honor, has always been on the forefront of any conflict hes been in. Finally, he is an accomplished Kindred scholar who has knack for the stories of old, this may have something to do with the "Book Of Nod" he keeps in a hidden lock-box, away from prying Camarilla eyes. |
54,551 | 1,487 | 7 | 2,216 | 33 | As Verin speaks up, James turns his focus of attention on him. While looking at the Gangrel with a distinct hint of disdain, he seems either unsure or indifferent of what to think of the Brujah.
"Your belongings are waiting for you in the prepared apartments. If you need anything beyond that, speak up to me or any guard inside the building mentioning my name, and I'll see what I can do for you. But remember that officially, you're leading an investigation, not preparing for a war." At the latter question, he directs a theatric sigh.
"Considering that we strongly believe in someone on the inside of the tower being the culprit or working with them, we exclude the thought of a werewolf connection. The Sabbat would be unlikely, but arguably not impossible. -If- either of the two occurs, you're still obliged to disable or end them. You'll be under full protection should this situation arise. Everyone involved is officially acting under my direct command, and we take full responsibility of whatever consequences your actions cause. Assuming you -do- act within the limits your orders, that is. Needless to say, if you feel that Seven or anyone else of the team is endangered for whatever reason, return to the tower immediately." There was no pause in this last statement of his, yet it is somewhat obvious that the 'or anyone else' part was added on the fly. James briefly turns his attention to the woman who has yet to say a single word before looking back at Verin, should he feel like adding any more arguments. | Name: Seven
Apparent Age: 24
Sex: Female
Clan: Malkavian
Loyalty: indifferent
Appearance: Mostly seen in a black, slightly oversized hoodie that conceals more than one battle scar, not all of them inflicted by adversaries. Equally black, partially ripped pants and clunky boots are telling that she doesn't give much of a damn about fashion sense, one could say there's (literally) too much on her mind to worry about appearance. A dog collar is expressing her personal sense of bitter, self-ironical humor and serves in a more practical way at times. She's wearing her hair as what others would describe as a 'chaotic mess'. Seven's build can mostly be described as average and ordinary, which would be the only thing about her that fits this description.
Behavior: If one would look for her in a generic room, she'd be sitting in a corner as far away from the door as possible. She's not overly sociable and has the erratic mood swings her bloodline is known for. One moment she's curious and interested, and half a breath later she screams at your shadow with furious anger. Like most Malks, she has her moments of clarity, wisdom, reason and understanding but those are rare and hard to differentiate from batshit talk and 'regular' hallucinations. Depending on , talking to her is described between stressful and unbearable. Her speech patterns are slightly off the malkavian standard, as she's not constantly using the colorful metaphors of a feverish mind, but rather changes style, tone and wording every few sentences. Mostly every other sentence. On bad days even mid-sentence. She's fully aware of her insanity and manages to behave herself around mortals, mostly. Since her speech patterns are that irratic, telling how she feels about other vampires, clans and families is no easy feat. All in all, she either cherishes friendship with a selected few, or enjoys torturing this selected few with her antics more than others, either way she usually keeps away from crowds and sticks to those who accept her presence.
Nature of her insanity: Like other Malkavians, this one has multiple split personalities all imprisoned in one mind, but this one is well aware of it. While the 'common' Malk has more or less deep connections to the cobweb like mass of minds and voices, Seven is even uncommon for lunatics standards. It's like an amount of different aspects of herself exist seperately from each other, different emotions and moods manifested as seperate personalities. And they all are ripping, pushing and pulling on her nervous system, trying to steer the body in this or that direction. It is a constant struggle for control with herself, and the way she talks is telltale of this battle fought inside her head. While this leads to a linguistic chaos, it does not seem to impede movement, at least not much. She still defends herself with uncommon and unexpected motions, but one could not tell her blood legacy from the way she moves outside of battle (unless it's a bad day). She tried to kill herself, assaulted a close friend with deadly intent, set her own house on fire and murdered half a streets population before. Out of control she's a danger to herself and everyone around her, especially if .
Background: She doesn't remember how she became a youngblood, nor who her creator was or why she came to be this 'unique'. In fact, even her real name is known, 'Seven' is merely what the Camarilla call her. Her past is shrouded with hallucinations and the misuse of . She spent the first few years of her new life completely confused but instinctively managed to keep away from humans and vampires alike, not breaking the masquerade until she came across a paranoid Gangrel anarchist that mistook her for a Camarilla spy. An unlucky incident that involved Seven reciting the Gangrels mother, him smashing her into a dumpster and then her ripping his eyes out in front of a gang of human kids lead to her first violation of the masquerade, and the initial meeting with the Camarilla. The impractical parts of her gift, specifically the occasional crescendos of madness have led to multiple violations of the masquerade by now, and in theory she's dead twice already. is considered as valuable and has given her a few more second chances than she deserves, however the authorities patience has run out and one more major fuck-up was promised to be her last. She was also placed in a special operations unit - she knew nothing about them or their purpose, and they knew just enough to realize that another exposure caused by Seven could also be their end.
Training and general talents: Seven's not particularly fond of complicated systems like computers or lockpicks. Her physical strength is well-developed, but she'd avoid melee combat if possible, relying on obfuscate and dementation. She can handle blades and firearms sufficiently good, and weapons of choice would be a katana in one hand, a simple handgun in the other though she wouldn't carry those weapons around. It'd be too much of a hassle for her troubled mind to look after more than one weapon at a time. And her malkavian way of convincing people often enough solves a conflict without the need for bullets and blades. She's well able to pay attention to crucial details, but may also see them where there are none, where some have been or where they -will- be. If not in conflict with herself, she can be rather elaborate (seductive even) and knows what people need to hear instinctively (probably cheating with her weak albeit existing link to the cobweb). Her Auspex abilities are basically non-existant and she couldn't tell if there's a person in the next room even if they were talking to her loudly, as she doubts everything she can't see and/or feel. Also, her attention span is naturally short so letting her guard a door or object would be a really bad idea, she would probably get bored and try to destroy the object, or remove the door and carry it home to guard it under more comfortable circumstances. |
54,552 | 1,487 | 8 | 2,049 | 5,487 | Lloyd's natural sneer grew across his face, letting out another low growl, as James answered him as if he was a simpleton. The Venture may have been putting on a show to hide his true feelings, but Lloyd made no effort to hide his true feelings, his annoyance of the man showing on his face as clear as the yellow of his eyes. He only broke his glare when he heard the Brujah speak up. I hate to admit that this bastard is right, but I don't think the Garou would go out of their way like this. He thought to himself as he pondered the Kindred's words. After another moment Lloyd grew a crooked grin, his blood stained fangs being reviled. "You know what I'm going to hold you to your words Blue Blood." He said in his gravelly voice. "If we suspect that anyone of the Camarilla's finest is behind these 'horrid' acts I will make it my own personal duty to make sure they pay for their crimes." With that he brought the fingers he was taping on the table back towards him, leaving four deep claw marks in the wood of the table. His grin slightly as he eyed James. "No exceptions... sir." He added the sir in a slight mocking tone. | Name: Lloyd Haythorn
Apparent Age: 22 (really is 45)
Gender: Male
Clan: Gangrel
Loyalty: Like most Gangrel Lloyd is fiercely independent and strives to be on his own, not really caring of the debates between the Camarilla and the Anarchs.
Appearance: Lloyd has messy ash black hair that falls just below his shoulders, thick eye brows and a soul strip on his chin. He stands at 6'4 in height, though he finds himself crouching on all fours quite often like most Gangrel. Lloyd has a fit body build and has incredibly pale skin like most Kindred. Both of his upper arms have the tribal tattoo of a panther chasing it's tail on them, his back having a panther pouncing tattooed on it. Lloyd would never wear clothes if that was an option but as is he makes use of old T-shirts and jeans shorts he manages to find, though trying to get shoes on the man is a task only Cain himself could accomplish. What sets Lloyd apart from other Cainites in the area of looks is his animalistic features, a trait common to Gangrel who had frenzied. His eyes are a bright yellow color with his pupils being feline like slits and each of his teeth are sharpened points, his main fangs being longer than the others. His back has a thick black pelt of fur running down it's center. His fingers and toes are pointed with sharp claws, which grow when he taps into the beast.
When Lloyd taps into his inner beast his for shifts into that of a panther like monster.
(Please ignore the jewelry)
Behavior: Lloyd on the surface is what you'd expect to see from your stereotypical Gangrel, the lone savage that would not hesitate to rip apart a kine or kindred that entered his territory with out permission, and in all honesty that is who he truly is at heart. He takes pride in his clan but only to the point that if it is the choice of his unlife or the name sake of his clan he'd choose his own secretary each time. He, like most Gangrel, holds great value of the art of the spoken word, often telling stories of his past exploits to the kindred that he deems worthy, and has respect in those who can regale him in a good tale, provided they can back up their words. Lloyd is close to his beast even by the standards of the Gangrel, not only respecting it but openly clamming a form of love for it, and would spend every hour of everyday in his Protean form if he could, which he almost archived. If asked Lloyd wouldn't hesitate to admit that he prefers the company of beasts over that of a kindred, which has lead to rumors of how far does his animal love goes.
Background: While Lloyd was alive he was a loner, having no real human interaction besides with his abusive parents who brought him into the world with no means to raise him. He was never what you'd consider extraordinary when he was among the living, not having the brains or the brawns to leave a impact on anyone, though their was one skill that he did excel at one thing he found true solace in, hunting. He was nine when he was exposed to the act of tracking and killing one's prey when he went on a hunting trip with his father, it undoubtedly being the only kind act the drunkard ever showed the boy, and quickly became fascinated with the art. Lloyd practiced his hunting skills in the forest his family's hovel of a house was built by. He'd sneak out during his parents drunken stupors and track everything from raccoons to deer that wandered the woods. He didn't find the pleasure in the kill like most, but rather the hunt it self, the thought of his prey slipping away gave him a type of high that he never experienced. Lloyd to came to the realization that he would be better off away from the poor excuses of parents he had and fending for himself, so at the ripe age of eighteen he abandoned his life and set forth on what would be a better life. Lloyd settled in what was the outskirts of L.A and for four years hunted the forests for his food, only ever venturing into the city for the supplies he couldn't provide himself, little did he know he was being watched by a whole different kind of hunter.
It was a dark rainy night and Lloyd was returning to his shack from the day's hunting when he was killed. He entered his makeshift home to be greeted by the sight of a young woman sitting on his bed. She couldn't of been a day over twenty and she looked like she had been wandering the woods for days, being covered from head to toe in layers of mud and her hair being tangled into knots, the thing that unnerved Lloyd was the aura she seemed to give off, something that told Lloyd she was something more than human. There wasn't much time for Lloyd to be in shock before the woman pounced on him and placed the kiss that all Kindred know so well. He awoke to a empty room and the words "Stay out of the light." carved into his wall by what he assumed to be claws. So began the unlife of Lloyd.
Lloyd's first nights were like all new Gangrel's, confusing, tough, and nearly unsurvivable. He spent a complete month unaware that he was a vampire, surviving on the pure instinct of the beast alone. Luckily though Lloyd was one of the few Gangrel that lasted long enough for his sire to return and begin his training and introduction into vampiric society. The training of a Gangrel has always been rather difficult for two main reasons, the first being the desire of the sire wanting their childe to learn on their own and the second being the need for the childe to unlock the primal part of their mind they had fought against all their living days. But Lloyd had found tapping into his beast rather easy, even enjoyable, to the surprise of his sire. He spent little under a year with his sire before she deemed him worthy to leave and make his own way in his unlife.
Lloyd spent two decades hunting the kine of L.A and retreating back to the forest during the day were he'd manage to evade the local Garou with relative ease. It wasn't until he turned thirty-five that Lloyd went through the phase all Gangrel are destined to go through, the Red Surrender. This phase in the Gangrel's unlife is where the calling of the beast the strongest. Though he'd be hard press to admit it he openly accepted it's call and succumbed to the beast with ease. To say that Lloyd went into a frenzy would be like saying a kindred would get a bad sunburn if they went out during the day. He went of a three month rampage across the city, attacking everything from the lone wander in the streets to groups of campers in the woods. Lloyd was the origin to the local myth "The L.A Demon" that made the headlines. His path of destruction didn't stop until he slaughtered the people of a formal party that was being held in the woods near were he was sleeping that night, unknown to him there was a local Camarilla official in attendance of the party. It was the final death of the official that turned the Camarilla onto Lloyd's trail and stopped him. They gave him a choice, face his final death or join some sort of team and wash away his violations. Needless to say Lloyd's unlife is now in the hands of a group of kindred he doesn't know, wish him luck.
Training and general talents: Lloyd is a deadly force in close quarters, mainly do to his claws which are comparable to a Garou's. If he must use a weapon though he prefers hunting knives, he always keeps one strapped to his right leg, for their quick and messy effects. He is pretty skilled with a rifle from his hunting days but he'd prefer to get up close and personal whenever possible. Lloyd had no social skills even before he was dead, so no one should be expecting him to woo or persuade anyone. Though his less than human features seem to unnerve some allowing him to intimidate others. His years of hunting gave him great investigation skill, being able to track almost anyone. Lloyd whole heartily hate computers, he'd wouldn't even carry a cell phone if he could get away with it, and if they cause him trouble he wouldn't think twice about smashing one. He isn't to skilled with lock picking, he'd rather just bust down a door. He is rather stealthy from his hunting experience, being able to go completely silent when needed. Like all Kindred his true skill lies with his disciplines, namely his Protean and Animalism. Lloyd is able to commune with almost all the animals he encounters, though if they listen to him is a different thing all together. He his able to shift into his Protean form at will but it is almost like a frenzy like state, being difficult to remain in control. Lloyd is able to sleep under the ground like some Gangrel during the day, but once he is under he doesn't know what's happening around him. He has only ever done it once before but he managed to calm another vampire's frenzied beast. |
54,553 | 1,487 | 9 | 2,583 | 649 | Verin settled into his seat, he was satisfied for now, and besides nothing new would be learned by interrogating the Ventrue. He cast a side look at the Lloyd, he had worked with Gangrel in the past, each one different in terms of their experience, yet they all seemed to share the trait of being fiercely independent to a fault. Yet he couldn't help but feel slightly relieved, the Ganrel were just as dangerous, if not more so, than his own Brujah clan mates, that made any part of the dangers of this mission seem less serious. Now the Oracle, Verin turned his attention to the Malkavian, he had spoken with some in his span of unlife, though he had never journeyed, fought beside, or in some sense follow one. "Well at least if we are being deceived, it will certainly be something to remember." He thought to himself, a small smirk crossing his face as he waited for the Ventrue to call off the guards that were most likely waiting out side and send them on their way. | Name: Varin Soralin
Apparent Age: 26
Gender: Male
Clan: Brujah
Loyality: Nominal, He sees the Camarilla as the lesser of two evils; Has been accused of being a Promethean in the past, a true yet unproven accusation
Appearance: Varin stands at an imposing 6’3’’, but unlike some of his more, unsavory, clan brothers he is not a muscle bound giant of a man. Instead his has a more normal build, though at the higher end of strength without the bulk. His face has a few small scars dotted around it, the largest of which begins at the tear-duct of his right eye and traces its way to his right cheekbone. His nose is slightly crooked in the middle, evidence of a break that was re-broken to allow it to set.
His light brown hair is kept at a medium/short length and is usually unkempt, though it somehow becomes straight no matter what is done to it as the day goes on. For clothing Varin keeps a simple wardrobe, jeans, a plane dark grey t-shirt, combat boots, sometimes s shoulder holster, and sometimes a hooded leather jacket. On the back of his neck he has a tattoo of two serpents wrapped around the cross bar of the Brujah crest, one going left off of the crest, the other right. The serpents curve around his neck until they reach his shoulders where they wind their way down each arm, their head resting on the back of his hands. The one on his right hand has its eyes closed and clutches a sword in its mouth, the one on the left has its eyes open and clutches a scroll in its mouth.
Behavior: Calm, Varin strike a balance between the members of his clan and the idealistic elders. Instead he strives to be like the Philosopher Soldiers of old, finding comfort in philosophy and books as well as the field of combat and blood. This has tempered his mind and helped him to suppress the hot blood that has made the Brujah infamous to the other Clans. Now this calm control doesn't mean he has lost his killing edge, if anything its made him a better killer. Its just that now, instead of a quick spontaneous eruption of passion and anger, he is now more like a rolling storm, powerful and deadly, though he may still fall prone to the berserker like rage that has gripped the Brujah during combat, when this happens the storm of seething anger becomes a red tinted world where the only thing that matters is that the Offender(s) must die.
Though he knows the Carthaginian dream is long dead, what it stood for has not yet. In this Varin holds to some of the Promethean ideals concerning Mortals . Such as "guiding" them, and protecting them from some of the more predatory Cainites, if the needs arise. This is his drive, his passion, the drive that gives him purpose. It is the drive for something better, something more.
Background: 19th of December, 1944 was the day Varin died. He died to a cacophony of gunshots and artillery shells, the light cracks and earth shattering explosions playing off of each other like some macabre symphony. Yet almost none of that mattered as he sat up against the side of his foxhole, his life ebbed out through the multiple bullet wounds and shrapnel tears. Seconds became hours, as he tried franticly again and again to crawl out, to crawl somewhere other than that god forsaken hole in the ground, but again and again he failed, gritting his teeth in frustration he tried one last time. This time as he clawed at the frozen ground and roots he got hold and finally pulled himself out. That’s when he heard it, laughing. “You finally did it, eh boy?” The speaker was a man, not far off of Varins right shoulder, though it was below freezing he still wore the normal American army fatigues. Varin tried to reply, what came out was a gurgle as he slumped down for what e expected to be the last time. The next thing he knew he was being picked up, the man had him around the waist and was hoisting Varin up with one arm “I don’t hope dying is on your agenda there boy. I might need you, besides we need to replace Thomas.” The strange man dragged him to a snow pile flanked by what looked like two large felled trees. As the man reached out and knocked the semi conscious Varin realized that the snow pile was actually a carefully constructed, and well hidden, den like structure. As they entered into the small hut Varin was deposited on floor. In the dim light, the human made out another figure other than the one who had carried him. “Demitri, this one is half dead.” One of the shadowy figures said
“I know darling, I know, but that can change. Did for me, remember?” He replied half jokingly
“All I remember was finding you with a musket ball through your left lung.” The other replied “In any case, why him?”
“I, dunno, must have seen something I liked.” After this Varin began to convulse as his vision blurred, his breath coming in short sporadic bursts as he finally began to slip away “Please Serrana? You always do say that war makes good Brujah.”
“Fine. But the prince won’t like this, not that you care.” The other figure said as she glided over to Varin. Varin at that point was slipping away, his vision going dark as he felt the cool touch of something on his neck.
He awoke soon after, wounds totally healed, and to the faces of Demitri and Serrana. He soon learned what had transpired, Serrana was the eldest of the two and Demitri’s sire. Demitri had been turned be Serrana after he had been wounded as a Prussian mercenary in the American Revolutionary War. Varin stayed with the two Brujah through the war and for about a decade afterword, Demitri training him in weaponry because as he said “A Brujah that cannot fight, is a dead Brujah. You will fight and you will live.”, and Serrana training him in the philosophy of old and the disciplines that come with the blood because “A Brujah must know how to fight with more than steel, they must be more. Or they are nothing more than disposable pawns.”
After this decade they moved back to America, working at various jobs within the Camarilla, usually as a guard of some sort. It was here he began to learn about the ancient Brujah and the story of Carthage, becoming enthralled with it Varin began to read more and more into the Prometheans, going as far as adopting some of their practices and teachings. His breach of the Masquerade came when he learned that Demitri and Serrana had both been driven into Torpor by unknown agents. Varin did what any sensible Brujah would do when he learned his oldest friend and sire were driven into the death-like sleep. He lashed out. The long controlled passion and anger came flooding forth, by the end of the night he had mangled two other Vampires and used the dread gaze on a human, causing them to run down a crowded street screaming about creatures.
Training and general talents: Varin transcends the stereotype of the Brujah brawler, using his skill in the Presence domain he can appear as a great force to be revered or a storm to be feared, he uses this to keep his opponents off balance, unnerving them, or simply terrifying them. This mixed with his Potence makes Varin a frightening force, even his Celerity factors in, giving him a certain grace when fighting. In combat he generally uses either his handgun, or the two folding axes that he uses with practiced efficiency and lethality.
Not a player of the political chess game, most would see Varin as an easy target, someone with no ambition, an easy target to use and discard. In this they would be wrong, although he doesn't play their game he has thrown his own lot and skill into an older game, and so views the subtle working of the Camarilla with no small measure of distaste. While he can use one, he is not that talented with computers. He can lock-pick most locks, provided he has the tools. And can repair, clean and upkeep most weapons. Like most of his clan stealth is a..... problem. Even though he is gifted with some grace from his celerity, the urge to fight an opponent head on, with savage honor, has always been on the forefront of any conflict hes been in. Finally, he is an accomplished Kindred scholar who has knack for the stories of old, this may have something to do with the "Book Of Nod" he keeps in a hidden lock-box, away from prying Camarilla eyes. |
54,554 | 1,488 | 0 | 918 | 155 | It was beautiful spring day in San Francisco. Flying through the clear skies were Wingull and Starley by the hundreds, flocks of the birds socializing with each other as onlookers fed them crumbs. In the Bay, Milotic and Seaking swam through crystal water, and schools of Remoraid searched for food, nibbling on the feet of giggling children. Man and Pokemon lived side by side in peace.
Perhaps the most symbiotic relationship of Man and Pokemon, however, was in the arena. On this particular day, a massive tournament was being held at the Golden Gate Recreational Center, dozens of proud participants coming from across the globe to compete in the mixer. Even the local Gym Leader had taken the day off to compete, hoping to bring a favorable place for his city. Crowds gathered in the thousands, with more than million watching world wide.
Also on this day, a much smaller competition was being held at White Beach. Open to any hobby trainers, the beach had several areas cordoned off in front of a set of bleachers, where the battling would take place. With the pleasant weather, it was the perfect day for a small tournament.
The eight spots for the competition were quickly filled, and the starting match up figured out by drawing. One would face two, three would face four, and so on. The nearby sitting was half-full, mostly just passerby who couldn't make it to the Rec Center's tournament. Still, everyone was excited to see new blood battle, and today's competition looked especially fresh.
"Ok. Number five. That means we're one of the opening three matches!" Standing on the sidelines, a young man with messy black hair shifted his weight from one hip to the other, biting his lip. "We can do this. It's just some one-on-ones. My team and I have been practicing, and we're more than ready to win this."
The boy blanched. "Wait, I can only use one of you!" Pulling out his two pokeballs, the youth seemed to weigh each ball in his hands, carefully considering each. "You're both fast, and hit strong from afar, but you do better with the other.. Yeah, I guess I'm going with you for this one, buddy." Pocketing his other ball, the man stood there for another moment, before pulling out the ball once again.
"Lets think about this one more time.." Biding his time, Zacharias pondered every move he could, waiting for the competition to start. | Name: Luna Remus
Gender: Girl
Age: 19
Appearance:
Personality: A short description of your character's personality. Could include battling style.
Abilities: Can show the Inner voices and power of pokemon of her party or wild pokemon
Speices : Riolu
Nickname: Blossom
Level: 5
Gender: Female
Moves: Bone Rush , Counter, rollout , Qucik Attack
Personality: Good at Speed and attacks, Bad at defense and speical defense. Very rude at times and clingy to Luna, very funny and smart but harsh and cruel to others in pokemon battle. |
54,555 | 1,488 | 1 | 1,258 | 2,264 | Keheheheheheheheh
Holding her number tightly in her long sleeve covered hands Trix was grinning away excitedly, her tired looking eyes checking over the entry to see if it was truly real. She was so happy to have been allowed in such a tournament, and with such a number at that. Suddenly she was snapped out of her happy daze by a hard slap on the back of her head "Ow!" Small tears showed up in the corner of her eyes as Orin flew around tot he front of her to gesture with its cloth to the people that had moved away from her to avoid the creepy girl..
"That was mean Orin, why did you hit me? I thought you would be proud me and flash got in" Not that she took notice of that, but in truth she did not care even a little if people were not coming near for the moment. Drifting down to the floor to plant itself onto its 'face' Orin stayed there for a few moments before flying back up suddenly! He tried to fly around the back of her and get her to stand up at the very least as sitting in the corner of the room was not the best idea apparently. | Name: Zacharias Mann
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Personality: Normally a little formal and reserved, Zach is an energetic and driven young man once you get to know him. He sets goals, and then he plans out how to achieve them. When he's challenged, he's eager to prove himself, and ultimately has his sights on the Pokemon League Challenge. As a battler, he's all about aggressive trickery, setting up status effects and dealing damage.
Abilities: Zach bonds strongly with his Pokemon. With a bit of time, he can get a sixth sense about his Pokemon's feelings and state of mind, and can come up with very effective training regimen.
Species: Electrike
Nickname: Silas
Level: 5.
Gender: Male
Ability: Lightning Rod
Moves: Tackle, Thunder Wave, Electro Ball
Personality: A speedy ranged attacker, Silas focuses on speed and power over defenses. He's playful and loves to chase things.
Species: Vulpix
Nickname: Hestia
Level: 5.
Gender: Female
Ability: Drought
Moves: Hex, Ember, Tail Whip
Personality: A fast ranged attacker who is good at taking hits from other special attacker. She is very calm, and likes to sleep when she isn't playing. |
54,556 | 1,488 | 2 | 918 | 155 | A group of people talked nearby, between the four cordoned areas. After a few minutes, all four broke apart, one going to each ring, and one going to where the waiting participants stood. "We're going to be starting soon, I'd just like to go over the rules with you folks. This is a one-on-one battle, with each participant being allowed one Pokémon each. Each of you will release your Pokémon at the wave of the referee's hand, and will end your match once the referee calls it."
"You may have noticed that the the match areas each include a section consisting of water. This is for any of you who have aquatic Pokémon, but would still like to participate. However, you must remain within the arena area, and your Pokémon may not fly more than fifty feet into the air. You are also not allowed to leave the cordoned area underground or under water. Doing so will result in immediate disqualification. Any questions?"
Zacharias raised his hand. "Will we be allowed to switch Pokémon between matches?"
The referee nodded. "Yes, and we will be providing healing stations for everyone to rest their Pokémon between matches. In the event of your switching Pokémon between rounds against someone with only one registered Pokémon, they will be informed of this change before the round begins. Any other questions?" | Name: Luna Remus
Gender: Girl
Age: 19
Appearance:
Personality: A short description of your character's personality. Could include battling style.
Abilities: Can show the Inner voices and power of pokemon of her party or wild pokemon
Speices : Riolu
Nickname: Blossom
Level: 5
Gender: Female
Moves: Bone Rush , Counter, rollout , Qucik Attack
Personality: Good at Speed and attacks, Bad at defense and speical defense. Very rude at times and clingy to Luna, very funny and smart but harsh and cruel to others in pokemon battle. |
54,557 | 1,488 | 3 | 1,258 | 2,264 | Beatrix listened to the rules ad instructions, her body swaying back and forth a little at the excitement of that she would not only get to see some cool fighting but also take part in it! That being said she did have something to ask so she dashed to the front of the crowd to put up her hand, speaking out of turn even if she was noticed or not.
"Will we be able to use the whole environment to our advantage?"
She may have been giving something away there, though unless they were smart enough to use it against her then it did not matter. After getting her answer she would move up to get a good look at the first fight. This was the big advantage to being a higher number that she loved, the fact that she could view the others battle before she would meet them, Orin looked displeased but they never mentioned any rules about this after all~ | Name: Zacharias Mann
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Personality: Normally a little formal and reserved, Zach is an energetic and driven young man once you get to know him. He sets goals, and then he plans out how to achieve them. When he's challenged, he's eager to prove himself, and ultimately has his sights on the Pokemon League Challenge. As a battler, he's all about aggressive trickery, setting up status effects and dealing damage.
Abilities: Zach bonds strongly with his Pokemon. With a bit of time, he can get a sixth sense about his Pokemon's feelings and state of mind, and can come up with very effective training regimen.
Species: Electrike
Nickname: Silas
Level: 5.
Gender: Male
Ability: Lightning Rod
Moves: Tackle, Thunder Wave, Electro Ball
Personality: A speedy ranged attacker, Silas focuses on speed and power over defenses. He's playful and loves to chase things.
Species: Vulpix
Nickname: Hestia
Level: 5.
Gender: Female
Ability: Drought
Moves: Hex, Ember, Tail Whip
Personality: A fast ranged attacker who is good at taking hits from other special attacker. She is very calm, and likes to sleep when she isn't playing. |
54,558 | 1,488 | 4 | 918 | 155 | The referee motioned towards the scary young lady. "Feel free to use the arena area to the fullest. Getting knocked out of the arena will begin a five-second timer, after which you will be disqualified. Special consideration will be given towards certain Pokémon moves. Anything inside the arena area is fair game to use."
Seeing no other questions being asked, the referee stepped back and motioned for the first match to begin.
Zacharias watched the first matchup, a Magnemite against a Timburrr. The pair were a surprisingly good match up to spectate, developing into a fast-paced chase of cat and mouse, Magnemite trying to pull back and attack while Timburr wanted in close. At first it appeared as if Timburr would win, after delivering a vicious Mach Punch to the floating Pokémon. Magnemite's retaliatory Shock Wave, however, was particularly brutal and ultimately won it for the Pokémon.
Continuing to watch the field, the next two competitors stepped out to begin their match. Both looked nervous from his vantage point, but anything could be going on from where he stood, out of the way. Zacharias continued to nervously fiddle with his Pokeball, eager to begin his own match. "Soon, team. We're next." | Name: Luna Remus
Gender: Girl
Age: 19
Appearance:
Personality: A short description of your character's personality. Could include battling style.
Abilities: Can show the Inner voices and power of pokemon of her party or wild pokemon
Speices : Riolu
Nickname: Blossom
Level: 5
Gender: Female
Moves: Bone Rush , Counter, rollout , Qucik Attack
Personality: Good at Speed and attacks, Bad at defense and speical defense. Very rude at times and clingy to Luna, very funny and smart but harsh and cruel to others in pokemon battle. |
54,559 | 1,488 | 5 | 1,258 | 2,264 | Zach watched the next match with a certain intensity. He had his eyes on the guy at first, seeing that he had three Pokemon to choose from. Seeing the flashes of red light, however, he quickly revised his opinion of the girl as a Swinub was released. How could she get a Swinub? Any kind of Ice type was rare in San Francisco, outside of the occasional Lapras or Spheal. She must be from out of state. It looked like things would be interesting, and he was right. The match went to that Alice girl.
Bouncing on his heels, Zach walked up to where he would be battling next, eager to get the match started. The announcer turned to look at both of his contestants. “Our battlers are Zacharias Mann and Julio Garza of San Fransisco!” Motioning to each of the boys as he said their names, a polite amount of applause filled the section of beach.
Zach tried to study his opponent, having decided to try and choose his Pokemon based on what he could gleam from his foe. The man was tall, taller than even Zacharias, and his dark olive skin tone said that he was used to working outside. Maybe he had a Pokemon to help him with that? Except he also had a handsome face and body that said he worked out a lot, he could just be a fan of the tanning booth and have something less practical.
Deciding this was a waste of time, Zach just took a Pokeball off his belt. Time to get serious. Opposite of him, Julio did the same. “Ready! And, begin!” Julio was the first to throw his Pokeball, followed shortly by Zacharias. Red lights filling the air, a pair of Pokemon were released, a Lotad and an Electrike.
“Lotad, Astonish!” Julio’s Pokemon rushed forward at a surprisingly fast speed, a ghostly aura surrounding it as it crashed into Electrike.
Thankfully, the attack didn’t cause a flinch. “Silas, give him a Thunder Wave!” Electricity danced across the Pokemon’s body before bursting out, covering a wide area in static. Covering Lotad, the electricity seemed to tighten the muscles in the small Pokemon’s body.
“Lotad, pull yourself together! Give it a Surf, full power!” Ah, that explained why Julio was so tan. Unfortunately, the paralysis seemed to take a lot out of Lotad, as it struggled to move its body.
Zacharias smirked. “Throw an Electro Ball, give it all you’ve got!” Eyes wide, Julio could only watch as a ball of electricity grew in front of the small Electrike. Allowing it to charge to a massive size compared to the Pokemon delivering it, Silas let the blast loose with a concussive ‘boom’. Charging forward, the attack knocked the Lotad out in a single hit.
“Lotad is unable to battle! Electrike and Mann are the winners!”
Running up to its master, Silas jumped into Zacharias’ arms and licked the man’s face. “Hahah! Good job Silas, it looks like that strategy worked just like we planned!” The pair walked off to the side of the match area, waiting for the next battle. Drawing a few stares from their one-hit attack, Zach was sure the next competitor would take them very seriously. | Name: Zacharias Mann
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Personality: Normally a little formal and reserved, Zach is an energetic and driven young man once you get to know him. He sets goals, and then he plans out how to achieve them. When he's challenged, he's eager to prove himself, and ultimately has his sights on the Pokemon League Challenge. As a battler, he's all about aggressive trickery, setting up status effects and dealing damage.
Abilities: Zach bonds strongly with his Pokemon. With a bit of time, he can get a sixth sense about his Pokemon's feelings and state of mind, and can come up with very effective training regimen.
Species: Electrike
Nickname: Silas
Level: 5.
Gender: Male
Ability: Lightning Rod
Moves: Tackle, Thunder Wave, Electro Ball
Personality: A speedy ranged attacker, Silas focuses on speed and power over defenses. He's playful and loves to chase things.
Species: Vulpix
Nickname: Hestia
Level: 5.
Gender: Female
Ability: Drought
Moves: Hex, Ember, Tail Whip
Personality: A fast ranged attacker who is good at taking hits from other special attacker. She is very calm, and likes to sleep when she isn't playing. |
54,560 | 1,488 | 6 | 918 | 155 | With her recently rejuvenated Pokemon, Alic took a seat somewhere near the back of the bleachers and watched the other battles unfold. The winners looked tough, battle ready. Probably a lot more used to the battling scene than she was. The thought of going up against one of those two made her nervous. To make matters worse, one of them used a fire Pokemon. The blistering heat would no doubt boost that Litwick's capabilities and the type match up was awful for her Pokemon to start with. However, all she had to do was hope that the guy with the elekid beat her in the next round. The Ground typing of Celia would totally neutralize the Elekid and make for a relatively easy fight, much like her upcoming battle.
"Hey. You." someone spoke, taking a seat down next to her. She was slightly taken aback to turn and find her opponent from her last battle sitting beside her.
"It's Kyle, right?" She stammered back "Y-you battled really well..." The guy shrugged, obviously being a man of few words.
"You were better." He shrugged. There was a moment of silence between them that felt like it lasted an eternity before he stood up and unclipped a Pokeball from his belt.
"Here." He said dropping it into Alices lap "He'll be better off with you." And, before Alice could say anything, he disappeared into the crowds.
Alice held the Pokeball in her hands carefully. Kyle had six Pokemon around his belt, so she had no idea what was inside the ball. On the top of the ball, in messy handwriting, said the word 'Biscuits.' Alice assumed that was the Pokemon's nickname, but excluding that fact, she had no idea what was inside the Pokeball. She decided she would dash aside and quickly check, just go meet her new Pokemon before the next battle started, but as she stood up, a tournament official called her over.
"Your next battle is about to start, can you please make your way down to the battling area." With little other choice, Alice simply clipped the Pokeball onto her belt and made her way down to the arena, preparing herself for her next bout. | Name: Luna Remus
Gender: Girl
Age: 19
Appearance:
Personality: A short description of your character's personality. Could include battling style.
Abilities: Can show the Inner voices and power of pokemon of her party or wild pokemon
Speices : Riolu
Nickname: Blossom
Level: 5
Gender: Female
Moves: Bone Rush , Counter, rollout , Qucik Attack
Personality: Good at Speed and attacks, Bad at defense and speical defense. Very rude at times and clingy to Luna, very funny and smart but harsh and cruel to others in pokemon battle. |
54,561 | 1,488 | 7 | 918 | 155 | Zacharias watched with interest as the scary seeming girl finished her battle, using an impressive Astonish through its own Fire Spin. Deciding it was worth talking to her, Zach walked up to where the girl was standing, before freezing a few yards behind her. A chill ran up the teen's spine.
'W-What is this? Why am I so nervous all of a sudden?' Looking around, Zach couldn't see anything out of place. 'Is it just in my head?' He wondered if his Pokémon could feel the same thing, but decided against it. Glancing at the girl once again, the young man decided it might be safer to wait a while, and instead walked over to where the Pokémon healing station stood.
Taking his Pokémon back, Zach heard the next match being called to begin. 'The Swinub girl is fighting, and the guy with the Magnemite? I wonder if he has any other Pokémon to battle with. This'll be interesting.' He left to watch from the side lines, hoping for an interesting fight with lots to learn and think over later. Glancing at the two Pokeballs on his belt, he wondered if he should've trained more before jumping in to a tournament. | Name: Luna Remus
Gender: Girl
Age: 19
Appearance:
Personality: A short description of your character's personality. Could include battling style.
Abilities: Can show the Inner voices and power of pokemon of her party or wild pokemon
Speices : Riolu
Nickname: Blossom
Level: 5
Gender: Female
Moves: Bone Rush , Counter, rollout , Qucik Attack
Personality: Good at Speed and attacks, Bad at defense and speical defense. Very rude at times and clingy to Luna, very funny and smart but harsh and cruel to others in pokemon battle. |
54,562 | 1,488 | 8 | 1,258 | 2,264 | Sitting down on the side lines for now, Beatrix released flash once again, though this time to allow it to sit on her lap for the time being. It may not have been harmed but she wanted to comfort him a little before his next match, after all it was not like the flying stick that called itself a sword was going to be doing anything this time around.
Speaking of the devil; Orin moved up to the part of the stands where Trix was just below, after all if it was not going to be within its ball it would at least have to stay next to her. Otherwise someone may try to cart him off to the lost and found... Well that was Trix's logic for why he would not leave her side anyway. With the three of them there, they waited for the next match to start, after all she had to finish this up before dinner time. | Name: Zacharias Mann
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Personality: Normally a little formal and reserved, Zach is an energetic and driven young man once you get to know him. He sets goals, and then he plans out how to achieve them. When he's challenged, he's eager to prove himself, and ultimately has his sights on the Pokemon League Challenge. As a battler, he's all about aggressive trickery, setting up status effects and dealing damage.
Abilities: Zach bonds strongly with his Pokemon. With a bit of time, he can get a sixth sense about his Pokemon's feelings and state of mind, and can come up with very effective training regimen.
Species: Electrike
Nickname: Silas
Level: 5.
Gender: Male
Ability: Lightning Rod
Moves: Tackle, Thunder Wave, Electro Ball
Personality: A speedy ranged attacker, Silas focuses on speed and power over defenses. He's playful and loves to chase things.
Species: Vulpix
Nickname: Hestia
Level: 5.
Gender: Female
Ability: Drought
Moves: Hex, Ember, Tail Whip
Personality: A fast ranged attacker who is good at taking hits from other special attacker. She is very calm, and likes to sleep when she isn't playing. |
54,563 | 1,488 | 9 | 1,258 | 2,264 | Zacharias watched the match between Alice and Thomas with interest, the match up resulting in a seemingly one-sided match up. The end result, of course, was interesting. 'A great use of the environment. I'll need to keep that in mind with her, if we battle she's not afraid to use everything at her disposal.' Thinking for a moment, Zach stood to prepare for his own battle.
Walking towards the roped off arena area, Zach waved at the passing Alice, smiling as he walked by. "That was a good match, I hope we get a chance to battle." Before she could reply, though, the referee began waving his arms.
"Beatrix Loren and Zacharias Mann! Please get ready for your match!" Still smiling, the teen nodded his head to Alice before going to his side of the arena, picking out the Pokemon he would be using. | Name: Zacharias Mann
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Personality: Normally a little formal and reserved, Zach is an energetic and driven young man once you get to know him. He sets goals, and then he plans out how to achieve them. When he's challenged, he's eager to prove himself, and ultimately has his sights on the Pokemon League Challenge. As a battler, he's all about aggressive trickery, setting up status effects and dealing damage.
Abilities: Zach bonds strongly with his Pokemon. With a bit of time, he can get a sixth sense about his Pokemon's feelings and state of mind, and can come up with very effective training regimen.
Species: Electrike
Nickname: Silas
Level: 5.
Gender: Male
Ability: Lightning Rod
Moves: Tackle, Thunder Wave, Electro Ball
Personality: A speedy ranged attacker, Silas focuses on speed and power over defenses. He's playful and loves to chase things.
Species: Vulpix
Nickname: Hestia
Level: 5.
Gender: Female
Ability: Drought
Moves: Hex, Ember, Tail Whip
Personality: A fast ranged attacker who is good at taking hits from other special attacker. She is very calm, and likes to sleep when she isn't playing. |
54,564 | 1,488 | 10 | 1,258 | 2,264 | Watching his opponent, Zach made a last minute decision and pulled a Pokeball off his belt. "We can do this, Hestia. Just do your thing, and there's no way we can fail!" Smiling down at his Pokeball, Zach saw that his opponent was also ready. The referee rose his hand.
"This is a battle between Beatrix Loren and Zacharias Mann! Ready! And, Begin!" The ref's arms fell in a chop, simultaneously blowing his whistle!
Throwing his Pokeball, Zach was tense as the battle began. "Go, Hestia!" Overhead, the once pleasantly warm sunshine began to grow brighter, the comfortable heat quickly becoming stifling. Sweating, the teen watched his Pokemon emerge from its ball, ready for battle! | Name: Zacharias Mann
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Personality: Normally a little formal and reserved, Zach is an energetic and driven young man once you get to know him. He sets goals, and then he plans out how to achieve them. When he's challenged, he's eager to prove himself, and ultimately has his sights on the Pokemon League Challenge. As a battler, he's all about aggressive trickery, setting up status effects and dealing damage.
Abilities: Zach bonds strongly with his Pokemon. With a bit of time, he can get a sixth sense about his Pokemon's feelings and state of mind, and can come up with very effective training regimen.
Species: Electrike
Nickname: Silas
Level: 5.
Gender: Male
Ability: Lightning Rod
Moves: Tackle, Thunder Wave, Electro Ball
Personality: A speedy ranged attacker, Silas focuses on speed and power over defenses. He's playful and loves to chase things.
Species: Vulpix
Nickname: Hestia
Level: 5.
Gender: Female
Ability: Drought
Moves: Hex, Ember, Tail Whip
Personality: A fast ranged attacker who is good at taking hits from other special attacker. She is very calm, and likes to sleep when she isn't playing. |
54,565 | 1,488 | 11 | 918 | 155 | Alice had only just stepped away from the arena when she heard the crowd erupting into whooping cheers as she heard the last battle end behind her. Her final opponent had been decided, but Alice didn't really care. To have come this far, that was enough. She had travelled across the ocean, walked for miles down the coast and now she and Celia were placing in the finals of a battling competition. Theirs was a dream come true. She sighed and collapsed, sitting down in the war, sand. If she lost here, she would probably have to return home to Scotland. She was already running low on money, and unless she found some somewhere, there was no way she was going to manage to stay in the country. Before the tournament began, she had worried that it would be the end of her time in America, but me she was just happy that she had made it here in the first place.
"Oh." Alice mumbled, reaching down to her belt and picking up the new Pokeball "I almost forgot about you." She smiled, running her fingers over the button "Guess we should probably say hello, huh?" With a gentle flick of the wrist, Alice tossed the Pokeball into the air and in a flash of red light, a small red monkey stood before her. "So you're Biscuits, huh?" Alice beamed "I'm Alice, your new trainer, it's a pleasure to meet you." The Darumaka looked up to Alice, head tilted slightly. The Pokemon seemed to be processing the situation, keeping his distance from Alice obviously untrusting. It was understandable, he was traded to Alice without warning, but Kyle seemed more of an aggressive trainer and Biscuits looked like a very intellectual Pokemon. "I think the two of us are pretty alike Biscuits, I'm looking forwards to training with you." The Darumaka hesitated a moment before nodding slightly. With her new Pokemon on her side, Alice felt like she had a chance to take this tournament. All there was left to do was wait until the finals began. | Name: Luna Remus
Gender: Girl
Age: 19
Appearance:
Personality: A short description of your character's personality. Could include battling style.
Abilities: Can show the Inner voices and power of pokemon of her party or wild pokemon
Speices : Riolu
Nickname: Blossom
Level: 5
Gender: Female
Moves: Bone Rush , Counter, rollout , Qucik Attack
Personality: Good at Speed and attacks, Bad at defense and speical defense. Very rude at times and clingy to Luna, very funny and smart but harsh and cruel to others in pokemon battle. |
54,566 | 1,488 | 12 | 918 | 155 | Alice jumped as someone spoke behind her. She had been happily watching Biscuits trot around in the sand and was completely shocked by the sudden appearance of someone right behind her.
"Oh, I uh, I, well..." She mumbled, unable to even look the guy I. The eye, focusing on her shoes and talking in a barely audible voice. She took a deep breath, blushing and focusing on what she needed to say, finding the correct words "C-Celia and I are from Scotland" she stammered "My brother runs an ice type gym up in the Highlands and h-his Mamoswime is Celia's mother." She managed to say "A-as for biscuits, m-my first opponent, Kyle, h-he said he would be better with me and gave me the Pokeball b-before I could protest."
As she finished speaking a wave of almost pride washed over her. She knew how hard it was for her to speak to people and was genuinely surprised she had managed to say that much. Finally, she looked up at the guy and almost instantly recognised him.
"Y-you're Z-Zachary right?" She mumbled. She had seen him battle with his elekid and knew he was one of of the other semi-finalists and therefore possibly one of her opponents im the finals. He looked like a strong trainer and Alice had no idea whether or not she would be able to take him in a battle. "I-I'm Alice... I'm also I-I'm the the tournament... H-how did your battle go?" Part of her wanted to hear him say he won, given how tough he looked. She dreaded the idea that someone could be tougher than him. | Name: Luna Remus
Gender: Girl
Age: 19
Appearance:
Personality: A short description of your character's personality. Could include battling style.
Abilities: Can show the Inner voices and power of pokemon of her party or wild pokemon
Speices : Riolu
Nickname: Blossom
Level: 5
Gender: Female
Moves: Bone Rush , Counter, rollout , Qucik Attack
Personality: Good at Speed and attacks, Bad at defense and speical defense. Very rude at times and clingy to Luna, very funny and smart but harsh and cruel to others in pokemon battle. |
54,567 | 1,488 | 13 | 918 | 155 | Of course you're in the tournament. I saw you battle twice, really clever of you to freeze the water around that Scraggy. Smiling at the nervous girl, Zacharias offered her a handshake. "And yeah, you can just call me Zach. It's nice to meet you, Alice." The teen stepped back to pay the girl's Pokémon some attention watching the little Darumaka.
"As for my battle.. Not the best results in the world, I guess. You could say I learned something from it though. That Bea girl sure can be scary. You wouldn't expect a Litwick to hit as hard as hers did." | Name: Luna Remus
Gender: Girl
Age: 19
Appearance:
Personality: A short description of your character's personality. Could include battling style.
Abilities: Can show the Inner voices and power of pokemon of her party or wild pokemon
Speices : Riolu
Nickname: Blossom
Level: 5
Gender: Female
Moves: Bone Rush , Counter, rollout , Qucik Attack
Personality: Good at Speed and attacks, Bad at defense and speical defense. Very rude at times and clingy to Luna, very funny and smart but harsh and cruel to others in pokemon battle. |
54,568 | 1,488 | 14 | 1,258 | 2,264 | Zach fought the urge to smile, hearing the girl talk to herself. "I'll just leave you to figure this out then. Good luck on your match!" Stepping away, the teen waved at Alice as he walked off to the stands to mingle with the crowd and hype himself up from his loss. A few spectators patted him on the back and offered kind words. They didn't help much, but the thought was enough to pick him up from the clutches of depression.
Sitting next to him, a man offered his hand to Zacharias. "Hey there. My name's Mark, I saw your battle earlier."
"Hah, thanks. I know it was a pretty rough loss."
Mark raised an eyebrow, before laughing out loud. "Oh, I didn't think so at all! In fact, I was actually going to offer you another chance to compete. You interested?"
Now it was Zach's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Really? shouldn't you be offering this to the person who won the match?"
"Oh, I'll get around to it." Mark glanced towards Alice, who Zach had just left. "She seems preoccupied at the moment, though. I'll take that question as you being interested?"
Thinking for a moment, Zach nodded. "Yeah, I'm definitely interested! Where and when can I compete? Anything I need to know?"
"Here, take this." Mark handed a pamphlet to Zach, who started to look through the paper. "That should have pretty much everything in it you'll need to see. It's invite only, so it really is an honor for you to be invited to this. I only have eight invites, and you're one of 'em pal."
"Well, thanks!" The man stood and offered his hand again.
"I'll see you there then, Zacharias. My email's on the pamphlet if you need to contact me for anything. I need to talk to the others." With those parting words, Mark left, waving behind him absently. | Name: Zacharias Mann
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Personality: Normally a little formal and reserved, Zach is an energetic and driven young man once you get to know him. He sets goals, and then he plans out how to achieve them. When he's challenged, he's eager to prove himself, and ultimately has his sights on the Pokemon League Challenge. As a battler, he's all about aggressive trickery, setting up status effects and dealing damage.
Abilities: Zach bonds strongly with his Pokemon. With a bit of time, he can get a sixth sense about his Pokemon's feelings and state of mind, and can come up with very effective training regimen.
Species: Electrike
Nickname: Silas
Level: 5.
Gender: Male
Ability: Lightning Rod
Moves: Tackle, Thunder Wave, Electro Ball
Personality: A speedy ranged attacker, Silas focuses on speed and power over defenses. He's playful and loves to chase things.
Species: Vulpix
Nickname: Hestia
Level: 5.
Gender: Female
Ability: Drought
Moves: Hex, Ember, Tail Whip
Personality: A fast ranged attacker who is good at taking hits from other special attacker. She is very calm, and likes to sleep when she isn't playing. |
54,569 | 1,488 | 15 | 918 | 155 | Liam turned his head up towards the gleaming sun--it seemed relentless in its mission to superheat the sand of the beach and its inhabitants. The usual crowd of swimmers and beach trainers were here like they were on any day, but today they were far outnumbered by the trainers competing in the littles tourney. Liam wanted to compete in the Pokemon League Challenge and winning the littles tourney would have gained him the prestige to challenge a gym leader to a battle, but he had already been eliminated.
Torchic, comfortable and seated in Liam’s lap, was enjoying the sun more than Liam. “Torrrrr” it cooed, eyes drooping. Liam scratched its head, watching the battle. A Litwick was facing a Darumaka, the Litwick’s trainer blazing with confidence. The Litwick and the little girl did seem to be on the same page more than the Darumaka and its trainer. The Darumaka launched itself up into the air off a boulder and landed an impressive hit on the Litwick. Perhaps the timid girl had a chance.
Liam felt a tug on his shoulder. “That’s the girl who creamed my Scraggy,” Thomas Preston pointed at the Darumaka’s trainer, “only with Swinub.”
“I still can’t believe you lost to a Swinub,” Liam laughed.
“I still can’t believe you lost to my Scraggy,” Thomas howled, “maybe you would have had a better time with the Swinub. Scraggy didn’t even get to land an attack.”
If only Liam could have seen it. He had missed the battle between his friend Thomas and the girl even though he had planned to watch all the matches to learn as much strategy as he could. “I was busy battling down the beach in the loser’s bracket, where you so kindly put me.”
There was no official loser’s bracket, but Julio Garza didn’t feel his Lotad had gotten a fair fight, as his opponent’s Electrike had paralyzed and finished the lilypad pokemon almost immediately. Julio wasted no time in challenging Jake Xeva and his Hitmonlee, and gathering Liam and the kid with the small Sandshrew to battle each other as well. They all walked down the beach and marked out an area in the sand. Julio was the sort of handsome, tan devil who could get you to agree to anything with his eyes and his smile.
Julio’s other pokemon, a Natu, had the advantage against Jake’s Hitmonlee, as did Liam’s Cacnea against the small sandshrew, so both battles went quickly and Liam had found himself up against Julio. There were no bleachers, but a few spectators had gathered nonetheless.
Liam knew Julio would choose Natu again. He smiled, and waited for Julio to choose his pokemon. Sure enough, Julio called, “Natu! You’ve got this one!” and Natu was once more soaring over the sand. “Go, Torchic! It’s your turn!” Liam called. He had used Cacnea for both of the earlier battles, so it seemed fair to let Torchic have a go. Plus, Cacnea would fare about the same as Hitmonlee, without any good tools for catching a pokemon in the air. “Now Torchic, ember!” Liam called.
“Dodge it, and hit him with Peck!” Julio reacted at lightspeed. Torchic’s stream of flames missed wide, and Natu swooped in, landing Peck right in Torchic’s chest. Torchic stumbled backwards, but didn’t fall down and wasn’t through yet. “Peck, again!” came the call from Julio.
“Use your speed, Torchic! Dodge it!” Torchic jumped at the last moment, straight upward, having run out of time to dodge left or right. Natu flew straight underneath, but Torchic was already falling and landed squarely on Natu’s head. Torchic was slightly bigger than Natu, who hit the ground under the extra weight.
“Torchic, now’s your chance! Low kick!” Liam called. Torchic performed a somersault and kicked the small bird with a glowing claw. Liam could not hear Julio’s call for a move, but a darkness was enveloping both of the pokemon as Natu used Night Shade. But the two pokemon were still point-black, so Liam called for an ember, and Natu was not prepared to block. The night shade faded away and Julio returned Natu to his pokeball, sooner than Liam had expected.
Julio told Natu what a great job he had done. Liam wanted to be just like that, to be proud of his pokemon even in defeat. If they worked hard, a win or loss would not matter.
“And you’re the champion of the loser’s bracket so far, so you can thank me for that,” Thomas laughed. Thomas' reply brought Liam back to the present, and back to the official battle. The Darumaka and Litwick were still brawling. One of the pokemon created a big splash of water that washed over the battlefield and caused both fire types to faint. There was a panel of judges ready to determine the winner. In Liam’s opinion, both trainers were pretty underhanded in their attempts to exploit the enemy’s weakness to water. Especially since it could easily have backfired for either pokemon. Torchic didn't like the slightest splash of water. | Name: Luna Remus
Gender: Girl
Age: 19
Appearance:
Personality: A short description of your character's personality. Could include battling style.
Abilities: Can show the Inner voices and power of pokemon of her party or wild pokemon
Speices : Riolu
Nickname: Blossom
Level: 5
Gender: Female
Moves: Bone Rush , Counter, rollout , Qucik Attack
Personality: Good at Speed and attacks, Bad at defense and speical defense. Very rude at times and clingy to Luna, very funny and smart but harsh and cruel to others in pokemon battle. |
54,570 | 1,488 | 16 | 1,258 | 2,264 | As the rules state, in the event of a double knock out both participants may agree to a tie-,
Beatrix did not even listen to the rest of what was said, the battle was over so she brought Litwick back into his pokeball for safe keeping before slipping it into her sleeve. She gave a curt nod to when the girl looked over to see if a tie was ok, it would make little difference to her. However she was more than a little surprised when Alice came over to talk "Yes..." She answered, swaying back and forth like always, though she was at least making a effort to smile normally "However next time make sure to use a pokemon you are use too, and in return I wont go easy on you. It should be a interesting match then heh" She slipped both her hands into her sleeves before turning around "Let us go and claim the prize. I never did bother to check what it was" Ooo the excitement of finding out! | Name: Zacharias Mann
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Personality: Normally a little formal and reserved, Zach is an energetic and driven young man once you get to know him. He sets goals, and then he plans out how to achieve them. When he's challenged, he's eager to prove himself, and ultimately has his sights on the Pokemon League Challenge. As a battler, he's all about aggressive trickery, setting up status effects and dealing damage.
Abilities: Zach bonds strongly with his Pokemon. With a bit of time, he can get a sixth sense about his Pokemon's feelings and state of mind, and can come up with very effective training regimen.
Species: Electrike
Nickname: Silas
Level: 5.
Gender: Male
Ability: Lightning Rod
Moves: Tackle, Thunder Wave, Electro Ball
Personality: A speedy ranged attacker, Silas focuses on speed and power over defenses. He's playful and loves to chase things.
Species: Vulpix
Nickname: Hestia
Level: 5.
Gender: Female
Ability: Drought
Moves: Hex, Ember, Tail Whip
Personality: A fast ranged attacker who is good at taking hits from other special attacker. She is very calm, and likes to sleep when she isn't playing. |
54,571 | 1,488 | 17 | 918 | 155 | Timothy Horn
Timothy watched the final showdown with elevated interest. Surely these two would be invited to the competition as well. He needed to study..
After the match, Timothy and Keroma made their way toward the concession stands to find food and watch any closing ceremony and presentation of awards. The crowd pressed in and Kero found his way to the top of Timothy's head to avoid falling under foot. "Let's move out of this crowd so we can let Romo out," Timothy offered, who was short enough himself to be knocked around. But if either of them felt uncomfortable in large crowds, little Nyoromo liked them even less. Timothy had learned to leave him in-ball when attending such events.
With a stick of meat in one hand and a fist full of PokeBlocks in the other, Timothy and company gathered at a small tide pool out and away from the larger crowd. Lunch was simple but delicious and greatly welcome as the sun tilted toward afternoon. Nyoromo slapped his tail on the water and both frog pokemon frolicked in the resulting mist. Timothy stretched back and imagined himself on the podium, accepting prizes and applause as he wins his first tournament... | Name: Luna Remus
Gender: Girl
Age: 19
Appearance:
Personality: A short description of your character's personality. Could include battling style.
Abilities: Can show the Inner voices and power of pokemon of her party or wild pokemon
Speices : Riolu
Nickname: Blossom
Level: 5
Gender: Female
Moves: Bone Rush , Counter, rollout , Qucik Attack
Personality: Good at Speed and attacks, Bad at defense and speical defense. Very rude at times and clingy to Luna, very funny and smart but harsh and cruel to others in pokemon battle. |
54,572 | 1,488 | 18 | 918 | 155 | Timothy Horn
"I think you should do it," Timothy announces from behind Alice. "I saw you battle before and I think you could have won if you and that pokemon of yours were fighting the same fight."
Timothy had watched the same man approach her as had come to him earlier. Now that he was aware of him, Timothy seemed able to pick him out of the crowd where he hadn't even noticed him before. His eyes lingered as the man approached Beatrix next, but he spoke to Alice.
"Is that fire pokemon new to you? It took me and Nyoromo, that's my Poliwag over there, a while before we learned how to work with eachother. It just takes practice and familiarity." The advice may seem too simple, coming Timothy Horn
such a short kid who looks way younger than Alice. | Name: Luna Remus
Gender: Girl
Age: 19
Appearance:
Personality: A short description of your character's personality. Could include battling style.
Abilities: Can show the Inner voices and power of pokemon of her party or wild pokemon
Speices : Riolu
Nickname: Blossom
Level: 5
Gender: Female
Moves: Bone Rush , Counter, rollout , Qucik Attack
Personality: Good at Speed and attacks, Bad at defense and speical defense. Very rude at times and clingy to Luna, very funny and smart but harsh and cruel to others in pokemon battle. |
54,573 | 1,488 | 19 | 1,258 | 2,264 | Is he bothering you? Liam marched up before Alice had a chance to respond to the younger boy, Torchic close behind in tow. Liam didn't hear most of what the boy said, but was a teeny bit suspicious that he was trying to take some of her prize. She had just retreated to an empty bench.
"I'm Liam, and I'd be glad to get him out of your hair," Liam offered. Alice reminded him of his sister. Perhaps because of her pigtails? Torchic, dutifully glaring at the boy, gave an affirmative squeak that was not as menacing as it desired.
"Also don't believe anything that man tells you," Liam motioned towards Beatrix and the mysterious man, "He's obviously running some con. He keeps calling it an 'exclusive' tournament, but inviting pretty much everyone." He produced a similar invitation pamphlet from the pocket in his sleeveless jean jacket. Why was the man not bothering to be discreet about it? If he was going to invite half the city's new trainers and call it "exclusive" then he ought to at least hand out invitations more privately. Liam wondered what his angle was. There had to be one.
The boy didn't actually worry him at all. He really had wanted to warn Alice about the mysterious man recruiting trainers for his competition. Something was off about him. Liam was just trying to play it casually so as to not seem like some conspiracy-theory psycho. There was a chance that it really was exclusive, and Liam had just happened to see several people get invited. Was he overthinking it?
"Alice, right?" Liam said, "I missed the battle but Thomas tells me your Swinub is a force to be feared." It wasn't a battle invitation. Liam wasn't one to challenge random strangers to battles; he wanted to train with them more than battle them. | Name: Zacharias Mann
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Personality: Normally a little formal and reserved, Zach is an energetic and driven young man once you get to know him. He sets goals, and then he plans out how to achieve them. When he's challenged, he's eager to prove himself, and ultimately has his sights on the Pokemon League Challenge. As a battler, he's all about aggressive trickery, setting up status effects and dealing damage.
Abilities: Zach bonds strongly with his Pokemon. With a bit of time, he can get a sixth sense about his Pokemon's feelings and state of mind, and can come up with very effective training regimen.
Species: Electrike
Nickname: Silas
Level: 5.
Gender: Male
Ability: Lightning Rod
Moves: Tackle, Thunder Wave, Electro Ball
Personality: A speedy ranged attacker, Silas focuses on speed and power over defenses. He's playful and loves to chase things.
Species: Vulpix
Nickname: Hestia
Level: 5.
Gender: Female
Ability: Drought
Moves: Hex, Ember, Tail Whip
Personality: A fast ranged attacker who is good at taking hits from other special attacker. She is very calm, and likes to sleep when she isn't playing. |
54,574 | 1,488 | 20 | 918 | 155 | People. People everywhere. Alice assumed it was because she co-won the tournament, but all of a sudden she was surrounded by people talking to her. The kid seemed pretty nice, Alice didn't really want to talk to anyone, but at least he was just trying to be nice. The Liam guy sauntered over and acted pretty arrogant, acting like the kid was annoying her when really he was just chatting. This was the sort of situation Alice feared most. Part of her wanted to tell the Liam guy to go away because of his 'holier-than-thou' attitude, but that would be mean and she simply didn't want to upset anyone. It would also be pretty easy to agree with the Liam guy and ask him to get rid of the kid, which gave her an easy way to sneak off and vanish and hopefully not have to talk to anyone.
"I, uh, well, I, uh." She stammered, looking for any way to get away from the pair of them. All of a sudden, she saw her opponent Beatrix wave from nearby. "Hey, uh, I'm supposed to be... Uh... Meeting her. Sorry." She stammered weakly, it was a pretty obvious lie as she jumped to her feet and darted away from the pair. She sauntered over to Beatrix and along side her.
"I uh, sorry... But I needed to get away from them so I said I was meeting you 'cause you waved and it seemed like an easy way to get away from them... So, uh... Sorry?" She mumbled quickly, blushing pretty deeply. | Name: Luna Remus
Gender: Girl
Age: 19
Appearance:
Personality: A short description of your character's personality. Could include battling style.
Abilities: Can show the Inner voices and power of pokemon of her party or wild pokemon
Speices : Riolu
Nickname: Blossom
Level: 5
Gender: Female
Moves: Bone Rush , Counter, rollout , Qucik Attack
Personality: Good at Speed and attacks, Bad at defense and speical defense. Very rude at times and clingy to Luna, very funny and smart but harsh and cruel to others in pokemon battle. |
54,575 | 1,488 | 21 | 1,258 | 2,264 | Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Third Annual Market Street Pokémon Tournament, hosted by The Devon Corporation! I'm your announcer and guest panelist, Samantha Liu of the California Gym Circuit, and we're set to begin shortly! Registered contestants, make your way to the central arena floor for a word from our head referee!
The words rang out through the massive gymnasium, its wooden floors echoing with the footsteps of hundreds of spectators. To one side were bleachers, more than enough to hold the large audience, along with several food and beverage vendors, and to the other side were three areas covered in floor mats. Each was marked off by ribbons, and judges stood at the sides of all three. Nearby, a table stood on the floor with three people. One held the microphone, a pretty young woman who stood proudly in her chair.
Thirty-two competitors. Five rounds of competition. Only the best of the best would be able to make it to the top, and win a one-year contract with Devon Corp. It would be hard fought. Who would come out on top?
Making his way to the center arena, Zach looked around at the competition. Some familiar faces were present. The teen had expected that though, after all, he had seen that Mark guy handing out invites will-nilly. That must have made him some kind of Devon Corporation representative.
He was nervous. Never before had he stood in front of so many people, and he had to battle like this? Shaking his head, he tried to rid himself of the nerves. Pros did this all the time, and ultimately, that was one of Zacharias' goals. To make a living doing what he and his Pokemon loved. | Name: Zacharias Mann
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Personality: Normally a little formal and reserved, Zach is an energetic and driven young man once you get to know him. He sets goals, and then he plans out how to achieve them. When he's challenged, he's eager to prove himself, and ultimately has his sights on the Pokemon League Challenge. As a battler, he's all about aggressive trickery, setting up status effects and dealing damage.
Abilities: Zach bonds strongly with his Pokemon. With a bit of time, he can get a sixth sense about his Pokemon's feelings and state of mind, and can come up with very effective training regimen.
Species: Electrike
Nickname: Silas
Level: 5.
Gender: Male
Ability: Lightning Rod
Moves: Tackle, Thunder Wave, Electro Ball
Personality: A speedy ranged attacker, Silas focuses on speed and power over defenses. He's playful and loves to chase things.
Species: Vulpix
Nickname: Hestia
Level: 5.
Gender: Female
Ability: Drought
Moves: Hex, Ember, Tail Whip
Personality: A fast ranged attacker who is good at taking hits from other special attacker. She is very calm, and likes to sleep when she isn't playing. |
54,576 | 1,488 | 22 | 918 | 155 | Timothy Horn
Timothy suddenly feels over his head as the tournament announcement proclaim exactly what he'd found himself into. Thirty-two combatants was a lot of people to beat, but he was confident that he would make it pretty far. He really only had to beat five people to win. And it was all about being prepared for those right five people.
Keroma pulled at his leg and pointed toward a food stand. "Yes, I see it too. I just want to see who I'm up against first."
Timothy moved between and under the taller folks around him to find a vantage point at the board so he could see who he was up against first and second. If he was lucky, he might get to watch his second round competitor before he had to face them. | Name: Luna Remus
Gender: Girl
Age: 19
Appearance:
Personality: A short description of your character's personality. Could include battling style.
Abilities: Can show the Inner voices and power of pokemon of her party or wild pokemon
Speices : Riolu
Nickname: Blossom
Level: 5
Gender: Female
Moves: Bone Rush , Counter, rollout , Qucik Attack
Personality: Good at Speed and attacks, Bad at defense and speical defense. Very rude at times and clingy to Luna, very funny and smart but harsh and cruel to others in pokemon battle. |
54,577 | 1,489 | 0 | 2,538 | 654 | Mandeep sat quietly at the meeting point. He was cleaning his desert eagle, checking his ammunition. He'd arrived in advance, as he usually did to anything.
When he had heard the promise of seventy thousand rupees, he'd immediately accepted. It was quite an easy task: in about ten to fifteen minutes, two gangs would meet up and do a drug deal. He and some other hired hands would have to stop the deal. Simple. He had never heard of either of the two men organizing the deal, but apparently one should be left untouched if Mandeep wanted to stay alive: the leader of the Indian Mafia. The lack of police sirens or constantly honking cars was pleasant, and he basked in the sun. A few birds twittered, and a cool breeze swayed his air and shirt.
Now he began to wonder who his companions would be in this operation. Would they be very skilled in this kind of thing, or relatively new like him? | Name: Mandeep JHAVERI
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Religion (Most Indians are Hindu, Taoist, Buddhist or Muslim): Hindu
Weapons of choice (what they prefer): Shotguns
Weapon on them (what they physically own, on their person and in their arsenal at home): Desert Eagle he won gambling
Known to the law and police force: 1/10 (Criminal Record: stole food when he was young)
Corruption level: 4/10 (Willing to do certain things, but not murder, for money)
Personality: Calm, level-headed, inconspicuous, ambitious
Bio (I don't really believe in infodumping here, write what you want if at all to be honest):
Mandeep's father was a rug merchant, who sold the rugs his mother made. His parents had had an arranged marriage. His father died at 40 of diabetes, and he had to start working as a rug merchant despite the possibility of continuing his studies. He managed quite well, until one day he and his mother were mugged. During the mugging one of the muggers got a excited and bashed her on the head, killing her. Mandeep flew into a rage and took out his knife, killing each of them. One got away, but he chased after him and stabbed him to death. After that, having no more rugs, he had to sell the company and instead start doing odd jobs. Construction, delivery, bodyguarding. With a few bribes here and there he and his sister managed to survive.
That was until the day she contracted AIDS. They had nowhere enough money to help her medicate for it. So he started selling his possesions, but it was not enough. Finally, he turned to more dangerous jobs. This is one of his first few, his third to be precise. The last two were small robberies. This is the first one where he might die. But he'll do anything for the rupees.
Killable: Yes |
54,578 | 1,489 | 1 | 542 | 713 | The day was hot just as it always was. The air itself seemed to sweat as Raheem Khan parked his cab in the lot of the station. His hot, cramped car barely fit the 6 foot man and he was relieved to get out of the cab to stretch his legs. It was only morning and yet Raheem's body was covered with sweat. He had taken the pistol with silencer, knife and brass knuckles that he usually kept in the glove compartment of his cab and put them on his person. With his job, there were all sorts of situations where he would need weapons; unhappy customers that turn violent, customers that intend to rob him, or just for the sake of knowing that if things ever went wrong, Raheem would have a means to defend himself. He was usually on the defence. Today, he was on the offence.
Raheem made his way to the meeting spot once he entered the station. He barely had any room as he weaved through the sea of people. He spotted the room described to him when he was offered this job. He remembered that day clearly. On his routes, he stopped by one of his contacts place and they told him about the offer. Of course, his contact was living life on top and didn't need to babysit a drug deal for 70 000 rupees. Raheem, however, snatched the opportunity up like a starving dog.
Silently, the man entered the room, to find two men already in the room...comparing their weapons. Unlike them, Raheem had his weapons concealed on him. Despite the scortching heat, he forced himself to wear a light sweatshirt that hid his weapons. He didn't want to make things ridiculously obvious.
"Good morning, men. Such a nice day, isn't it?" Raheem greeted the two men in his usual chipper tone. While he was often outgoing and spoke with kind words, his kindness was rarely genuine. | Name: Raheem Khan
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Religion: Hindu
Weapons of choice: firearms or melee weapons (such as knives or brass knuckles)
Weapon on them: hand gun with silencer, semi auto shotgun, metal bat, and brass knuckles
Known to the law and police force: 3/10
Corruption level: 5/10 (Rate it)
Personality: Raheem can be seen as flamboyant. Working in a business where he is always trying to keep his customers calm, he is very generous with words. But not money. His social skills can fluctuate, depending on the situation. While working, he is very outgoing and appears to be happy. However, when doing business, he can be rather stoic. Either way, he is more outgoing than most and tries to give compliments as a way of getting on people's good side and gaining trust as well as lenience from them.
Bio: All Raheem has ever known is poverty. He grew up, with six other siblings, in a house that barely fit four people, let alone nine. Half of his siblings had passed away before the age of 16, due to either illness or accidents. Throughout his life time, Raheem has had a plethora of strange jobs. Anything that will put food in his belly. Some of these jobs were legititmate - others not so much. He has associated himself with some sketchy characters throughout the years, landing him in the current job he has now. A cab driver. It doesnt sound like something corrupt - but that's the perfect cover. Raheem will take his passengers through hell, complementing them all the while. He will take the longest route possible to get to their destination, stage getting lost, stage engine failures (in which the passenger must pay to help him fix), drive down deserted roads and have his contacts pretend to rob the cab, and other gimmicks to get money out of his passengers. Although this is his main act, so to speak, he will use his cab driving position to transport drugs for his contacts from time to time. Raheem is not married and does not have children, although he was engaged at the age of 20 but lost his fiancee to illness. He carries the pistol and brass knuckles with him in the glove compartment of his cab.
Killable: Yes |
54,579 | 1,489 | 2 | 2,538 | 654 | Mandeep, he replied to Dajil. "That piece is... 800 shots per minute, right? Not bad. Mine does a modest 267. I just happened to win this in a bet I had with an... acquaintance."
He looked the boy over. He looked almost like someone from the Western world, stylishly dressed. He could barely see his eyes through the sunglasses, but in his gambling and poker days he'd usually been with people wearing sunglasses. Mandeep scratched his chin. "This the first time you do this sort of thing?" he asked Dajil.
As he asked this, another man appeared through the entrance. He seemed about Mandeep's age, and was wearing a shirt and sweater (in this heat? ,thought Mandeep). He seemed overly kind for what they were about to do, but Mandeep, for once, pretended it might just be genuine. Mandeep raised an eyebrow to the man's question. "For sure. A bit hot though, to be wearing a sweater, isn't it?" | Name: Mandeep JHAVERI
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Religion (Most Indians are Hindu, Taoist, Buddhist or Muslim): Hindu
Weapons of choice (what they prefer): Shotguns
Weapon on them (what they physically own, on their person and in their arsenal at home): Desert Eagle he won gambling
Known to the law and police force: 1/10 (Criminal Record: stole food when he was young)
Corruption level: 4/10 (Willing to do certain things, but not murder, for money)
Personality: Calm, level-headed, inconspicuous, ambitious
Bio (I don't really believe in infodumping here, write what you want if at all to be honest):
Mandeep's father was a rug merchant, who sold the rugs his mother made. His parents had had an arranged marriage. His father died at 40 of diabetes, and he had to start working as a rug merchant despite the possibility of continuing his studies. He managed quite well, until one day he and his mother were mugged. During the mugging one of the muggers got a excited and bashed her on the head, killing her. Mandeep flew into a rage and took out his knife, killing each of them. One got away, but he chased after him and stabbed him to death. After that, having no more rugs, he had to sell the company and instead start doing odd jobs. Construction, delivery, bodyguarding. With a few bribes here and there he and his sister managed to survive.
That was until the day she contracted AIDS. They had nowhere enough money to help her medicate for it. So he started selling his possesions, but it was not enough. Finally, he turned to more dangerous jobs. This is one of his first few, his third to be precise. The last two were small robberies. This is the first one where he might die. But he'll do anything for the rupees.
Killable: Yes |
54,580 | 1,489 | 3 | 542 | 713 | If there are more, they'll be late, replied Mandeep. He holstered his gun and got up. "I've done this and that. There's money to be made here, and I need the money," he said, answering Dajil's question. He vaguely heard a car in the distance. "Could be one of our men. Let's go see."
He started to walk out of the room and leaned on the wall to the side of the door, waiting for the others. He took out his own cheap brand cigarettes and started puffing one as he waited for the other two to follow him. 70,000 rupees... Enough to help his sister for some time. He'd need more though, eventually. The 50,000 rupees he'd won on his last job had nearly ran out. He fiddled with his gun, thinking about what to do if things went wrong. Just shoot them both dead, he supposed. That would be trouble though, and could lead to some conflict with the Indian mafia, never a good thing. | Name: Raheem Khan
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Religion: Hindu
Weapons of choice: firearms or melee weapons (such as knives or brass knuckles)
Weapon on them: hand gun with silencer, semi auto shotgun, metal bat, and brass knuckles
Known to the law and police force: 3/10
Corruption level: 5/10 (Rate it)
Personality: Raheem can be seen as flamboyant. Working in a business where he is always trying to keep his customers calm, he is very generous with words. But not money. His social skills can fluctuate, depending on the situation. While working, he is very outgoing and appears to be happy. However, when doing business, he can be rather stoic. Either way, he is more outgoing than most and tries to give compliments as a way of getting on people's good side and gaining trust as well as lenience from them.
Bio: All Raheem has ever known is poverty. He grew up, with six other siblings, in a house that barely fit four people, let alone nine. Half of his siblings had passed away before the age of 16, due to either illness or accidents. Throughout his life time, Raheem has had a plethora of strange jobs. Anything that will put food in his belly. Some of these jobs were legititmate - others not so much. He has associated himself with some sketchy characters throughout the years, landing him in the current job he has now. A cab driver. It doesnt sound like something corrupt - but that's the perfect cover. Raheem will take his passengers through hell, complementing them all the while. He will take the longest route possible to get to their destination, stage getting lost, stage engine failures (in which the passenger must pay to help him fix), drive down deserted roads and have his contacts pretend to rob the cab, and other gimmicks to get money out of his passengers. Although this is his main act, so to speak, he will use his cab driving position to transport drugs for his contacts from time to time. Raheem is not married and does not have children, although he was engaged at the age of 20 but lost his fiancee to illness. He carries the pistol and brass knuckles with him in the glove compartment of his cab.
Killable: Yes |
54,581 | 1,490 | 0 | 719 | 305 | The evening looms, ahead...
Within the horizon, the sun was already well on its way to setting, as brilliant hues of red and orange lit up the western sky. The celebrations were to begin at evening, and already St. Jeanne's Plaza was bustled with thousands.
There were those eager to see stunning firework displays, and then there were those awaiting the massive feast of sumptuous meals within the stalls. Some were eager to set up shop and earn bucks big time, and some were awaiting the massive sale of whatever bits and pieces they wanted within the stalls.
A long day awaits.
The Prime Minister was a rather seclusive man, still reluctant to attend the festivities. And though he had tried to have that hidden, one could still clearly see his displeasure from, well, the fact that his left hand was shifting repeatedly to molten claws and back. He had the irritability of a demon, but had, otherwise, the heart of a kind man.
But he had no choice; he was the star of this grand celebration, and shame was on him if he didn't hold that true.
In front of his office, hundreds of Defense and Police Unit men stand guard. They were to escort the Prime Minister soon and partake in the ceremonies afterward. The Prime Minister was taking too long, however, and in the meantime the impatient infantrymen had gone to doing their own respective businesses, while he was still preparing himself and his attire rather... sluggishly. | Margaret Vergilia
Age: 26
Gender: Female.
Race/Nationality: Irish-born, with Roman lineages. Weak accent.
5'8", 166 lb, slender physique. Heterochromic, with one blue eye and one normally green eye, the latter changing color upon her power's influence. Her very light blonde hair covers that green eye, and shines an almost white color under certain lights. Typically wears in either neutral color schemes, very regal clothing or military uniform.
Personality:
In this world full of sorcerers, heathens, god-maniacs and skeptics, she is perhaps one of the very, very few to worship God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, let alone any god or godly spirit. Even while the Vatican is now all but a tiny institution, Margaret herself remains firmly rooted in her Catholic faith, and still puts much of its devotional principles into practice. As such, Margaret can often be seen contemplating on the mysteries of the Rosary in the morning, suddenly stopping to pray exactly at noon and 6 in the evening, fervently praying when encountered with adversary, and carrying devotional scapulars, prayer leaflets and relics of saints. Her continuous faith can be attributed to an incredible coincidence of her family's deep religious traditions and the holy-like nature of her power, and even her family continues to hide any trace of their newfound irreligion should she contact them.
Consequently enough, this deep devotion has also compelled her to gain some notorious traits of the typical zealous Middle Ages crusader. In particular, Margaret often believes herself to have the right to damn anyone to Hell, and most especially condemns Novodeans, GAUs, and, to much hypocrisy, self-righteous people. Margaret believes the rise of humanity's power as God's test on whoever is virtuous enough to use God's gift wisely and gain right to Heaven, and whoever is wicked enough to use God's gift for nefarious intentions and earn damnation. Among Margaret's list of what constitutes as virtue is the fervency to purge whatever she deems as sin... which would in turn spell quite some trouble in this age.
In general, Margaret is very disdainful to the brash, but kind to the gentle. She, in turn, is gentle-natured most of the time, but thinks highly about herself and can come off as arrogant occasionally. Margaret, though, is willing to rend her abilities, especially the Spirit, in servicing people for the better.
Besides religion, Margaret has actually quite a knack for games both video and board (though not really good with the former), drinking, and dining to the point of gluttony (while surprisingly staying fit). It seems much of her morals are simply quite focused on the issue of superhumanity and is willing to let it be loose, if not totally absent, when it comes to other aspects.
Abilities:
Divinity
A luminous form of magic that comes in three forms, altogether making Margaret angel-like in power. She has named the forms after the aspects of the Holy Trinity:
The Power of the Father - Simply referred to as the Father, the energy of Divinity is conjured into forms able to hurt and kill. The Father can damage anything that lives with extra effectiveness against any creature of a summoned background (except intelligents), but is not capable of doing damage to nonliving things.
The Wisdom of the Son - Simply referred to as the Son. Luminous wings made out of Divinity and capable of flight and highly effective shielding.
The Love of the Holy Spirit - Simply referred to as the Holy Spirit or Spirit. Performs the exact opposite purpose of the Father: to heal. Rends wounds at a very quick rate, but may not be able to resurrect one that has sustained an injury severe enough to deliver quick or instant death.
All three abilities derive from the same energy pool. Should one ability sustain overuse, other abilities may be rendered unusable upon the depletion of Divinity. One can read how exhausted her reserves are by her heterochromic green left eye: increased use reddens it, and turns black as her energies go less and less.
Biography:
Born within the more Catholic confines of Ireland, Margaret was raised by a wealthy family whose faith was rather empty; despite a large collection of religious icons and even relics of saints, most of them simply didn't have the motivation to attend regular Masses nor take any prayer seriously. This was Margaret, too; the girl used not to have a care in anything.
Around 11, however, Margaret suddenly started heading to a life of "sainthood". From a simple fascination with icons and relics, it all then spiraled into full-blown devotion, something so sudden her parents started thinking what the hell has gone wrong.
Cue hell breaking loose.
Concerns grew even deeper. What if Margaret was to become one of those maniacs on the news? Her family had already began packing their bags in case she did prove herself to be one. And when they finally saw her floating around the rooms, bearing wings of light, it was then decided that it was high time they got the hell out of here.
Just as they were about to leave, however, a crazed telekinetic decided it would be fun to join on the rampage, starting with the Vergilias. When they were then cornered and as her father had just sustained a blow to his shoulder with a rock, Margaret raced quickly out of the house, struck the attacker in the face with a beam of light, and fixed his father's shoulder in a snap.
Though some of the rest of the family acquired their powers, Margaret was still best suited to guide her family while they roamed around, before settling on Mundin months later. This proved to be a wise choice; the city-state would later become one of the few remaining safe havens of the world, and for the rest of the years the Vergilias would then live in peace without a care in the world... while Margaret had her own duties to pursue, as a soldier of the Defense Unit and "most importantly, as a soldier of God".
Specialties:
Adept at memorization, and knows the entirety of the Catholic Pastoral Editon Bible, all known Catholic prayers, and the encyclicals of St. John Paul II. Strong-willed and motivated. Fluent in Latin and English.
Equipment:
Regularly keeps with herself scapulars, a Rosary and a Miraculous Medal, along with money, IDs and other necessities.
Has tons of religious icons and relics of saints in her home. Mostly retrieved from her old home, but some new ones are in there as well.
Other:
Margaret is stationed at the long-range defense placements on the coast facing Britain.
Prefers wines, but will still occasionally take beer.
Very much loves steaks. Dislikes fruits, but likes leafy greens. |
54,582 | 1,490 | 1 | 1,936 | 1,025 | GILBERT HALLORAN
Every now and then, Gilbert wondered if the end was nigh — or if that Biblical end was already upon them. He could not but help himself as he looked over the scene in the plaza. Thousands crowded the heart of Mundin to experience the celebration of its founding, a popular event, of course. The sun loomed in the sky for the final stretch of daylight, filled with a bubbly, orange energy which characterized that day quite nicely. The tentative peace, which the government labored so much for, was so heart-warming.
Still, with beating hearts and beaming faces, Gilbert, who counted himself among them, was all too full of ennui at the same time. Painful dissonance in his mind — did others ever tire of the almost utopian atmosphere? 'Mundin remains secure; but threats knock on PM's door,' the headlines read on the newsstands. Wrinkling his nose with skepticism, Gilbert also eyed a neighboring tabloid which described 'the Prime Minister's secret love affairs.' Sighing and reaching into his pocket, he spared the peddler some currency, and he took one of the leading newspapers. Things aren't ever all that perfect, are they? The college student mustered up a weak smile and whispered to himself, Relax. Today is supposed to be about joy.
For now, Gilbert eased into one of his few days when he could unfocus, unwind, and think about something that was not a homework assignment for a weed-out course. He saw some fellow students, some old acquaintances, all blended in the sea of strangers. This was as good as it got, a small, relatively privileged (to the rest of the world), and peaceful existence. No grand adventure or pursuit for thrill. No oppressive, tyrannical government. Mr. Halloran looked up to the sky and remained optimistic about the future. In fact, he joined the crowd — most gladly, in fact! — in awaiting for the fanfare and fireworks. Though he knew this good time was doomed to a short life, the inevitable misfortune was conquerable. | NAME
Gilbert "Hal" Halloran
AGE
18
GENDER
Male
RACE/NATIONALITY
Human - half-Asian, half-Irish - U.S. American
APPEARANCE
Also wears glasses.
PERSONALITY
Intuition would very likely make itself Gilbert Halloran's closest ally - or his greatest adversary. As impressions have it, the average stranger falls into either of two trappings with Mr. Halloran: either that he is an unassuming, reserved introvert, or that he is an unabashed, outgoing spirit. From birth until now, Gilbert has entertained the joy of overcoming challenge, with each problem a welcome obstacle — an opportunity, if you will, for growth — and he has taken pliancy as his tool for change. Whether a battle of wit, a clash of opinion, or a scuffle of friends, Gilbert is ready for whatever life will set before him. His mind is a flowing sea of information, and it breathes in shallow gasps of new knowledge, new thoughts, new feelings, and new experiences. He is highly resistant against the influential tide of the establishment, of the authorities that be, and of the majority and thus will not be weakly swayed, but he is also somewhat skeptical of those who nonsensically criticize the government or who denigrate it for all the wrong reasons.
Without mistake, although Gilbert might present the brains of a strong academic and flaunt an unyielding but mutable character, deep inside the boy is compassionate and sensitive to even the most subtle of social ticks. Some would say that Gilbert simply understands the deepest feelings. He is very good at communicating his feelings, and with the proper crowd, he can hold a large influence on the thinking of the group. No doubt a born leader, his adaptability and skills with people may make him an unrivaled power in any sort of social court. Gilbert's vibrant energy radiates a furnace's warmth, but like the winter, it can turn bitterly cold if it is not tended to. His last strength is his ability to unflinchingly let go of people and of feelings, a leaf to the wind.
Mr. Halloran is not without fault, however much he might seem an innocuous creature. He is caught by petty thoughts almost regularly, and in his darkest hours, he can barely control his temper or his depressive moods. Gilbert is no stranger to time alone from whomever he enthralls himself with at any moment, and with those he loves, he may struggle by expressing his feelings too strongly or too early, especially if he misjudges another person's interest. Although Gilbert eventually notices every tick of his friends and family, he may take far too long to recognize the pain in another person, and he cannot reasonably be expected to see the harm he does to others before it is inflicted. When confronted with a different worldview, he is typically open, but if he feels even the slightest bit offended by some tinge of disrespect, he will quickly evade the reproach of his opponent. This leaves Gilbert with constant insecurities: that he is not wise or intelligent enough, that he is not as kind or as thoughtful as he would like to be, and that he is not as charming or as good-looking as he wishes to be.
ABILITIES
Gilbert has always presented a subtle aptitude for something which could be akin to magic. It is unclear what extent this ability is capable of; however, it can be inferred that it may be trained or tempered to do many new things, as is the case with other potential magicians. Of course, these abilities do not yet rival that of the greatest so-called 'sorcerers' of the day. For now, he can lower the temperature of and move any fluid, gas or liquid, but lighter fluids are much easier. He can also create a spark or a small light, both by snapping his fingers deliberately, and he can also telekinetically pull his clothes to himself from the closet, which is a very fun way to get ready for the day. Currently, extreme emotions of anger or sadness can trigger disturbances in his environment, similar to poltergeists.
BIOGRAPHY
A burning home. The sound of sirens. These were the images of Gilbert's lost past. He remembered little of that day and that age, and he had no recollection of any other family besides his parents. He knew he had grandparents, and he had pictures of them, but what became of them was a mystery. What he did remember was that his parents fled the United States for the safety of Mundin, perhaps out of nativist pressures against his mother, perhaps for other reasons, and it was in Mundin where he made his life since he was two-years-old. He had a relatively uninteresting youth, and he was put through the same strict disciplinary education that all the others had gone through. He had an ugly early education; his promising mind was subject to much pressure from the students for his difference, from his parents for his procrastination, and from the teachers for his insubordination. Nonetheless, he came to perform relatively well in his schooling, enough to land him in a good university in Mundin where he could further his pursuits.
SPECIALTIES
- Reading, writing, and speech skills
- Social ability
- Mathematical talent
- Complaining on social media
- Keeping up with current events and politics
- Gaming and art
- English, French, and German
EQUIPMENT
- Glasses (obviously)
- His wallet and his keys
- His watch, a graduation gift from his mother
- A university ID and his valid ID card for Mundin
- His phone
- His leather messenger bag, with appropriate technology for school and often paper and pens |
54,583 | 1,490 | 2 | 1,020 | 29 | Janice raised her goggles off from her eyes, inspecting her work. She was already a bit late to get going, truth be told(as the ringing egg timer furiously reminded her), but she wanted to make sure the last few adjustments were working right. She had a shipment of shielded vests and pulse batons for the MDU, as it was, which meant that as much as she needed to get going, she needed to make sure there weren't any defects more. The basic design wasn't hers, but she always made a couple of improvements in the process of manufacturing on the house...The Inspiration didn't come as easily for her while working off a blueprint, but small whispers came, finding small ways to improve efficiency and make a better product. The hard part was always filtering out the ones that she couldn't produce en-mass or would be too difficult for the troopers to maintain...but she felt this iteration was a good compromise between ease of maintenance and functionality. Now, all that was left was to pack everything up, throw that damned egg timer at a wall, and get going to make the delivery-according to the instructions, they should be gearing up in front of the PM's office.
The drive was fairly boring, if long. She'd debated just taking out her Jetwings to bypass all the traffic, but on a day like this the police would be enough on edge without worrying about identifying people flying around on jetpacks(also, the cargo was heavy and she hadn't quite worked out the kinks on that Hammerspace tote bag yet), so she'd have to make do with a hovertruck and get stuck in traffic for a while. Figures, holidays are always among the busier days of the year. Nevertheless, she slowly managed to inch across the byways and may have possibly taken a couple less than acceptable shortcuts through a alleyway or two, and cut off a couple of people with a probably-not-legal red-light left turn, but she made it only ten minutes later than the agreed upon delivery time and, fortunately for her, it looked like the good ol' minister was taking his sweet time as well. She found a place to park the truck and practically jumped out of the front seat before walking up to one of the troops with a smile on her face and laid back demeanor-she had enough goodwill built up with the police and defense departments from building equipment for them(sometimes at cost, no less) that she felt she could usually be casual dealing with them.
"'Evening boys and girls! I know I'm a bit late, but the new toys are ready. Don't suppose one of you can point me over to the officer on duty? I know they'll want to make sure to get the new inventory logged before I start unloading for you all to pass out the new vests." | Name: Janice Ward
Age: 29
Gender: Female
Race/Nationality: Caucasion, Previously GAU
(I mean she usually wears something a *bit* more practical, but y'know)
Personality: Before the world went all high fantasy? She was relatively normal, if a bit of a loner. Preferring to tinker with bits of technology and figure out how they worked, and build useless but interesting gizmos or upgrade her computer or whatever. But then, when she started hearing the whispers in the back of her subconscious, when she started to shape metals into circuits with her bare hands, when she started to make bluescreen'd computers "rewind" prior to the crash and continue functioning as normal...She changed, somewhat. It's said that Insanity and Genius are two sides of the same coin, and the fact that power corrupts is very clearly evident with the events that have occurred all across the world these past twenty years. Really, she's lucky she ended up a bit of a manic shut in with voices in the back of head than a outright psychopath.
As it is, she's...Functional, in society, although she definitely displays the telltale mental signs of being Empowered-slight megalomania, manic personality traits, the aforementioned just-barely-inaudible whispers in the back of her head, and compulsions to build new technological whatzits. That all said, she does still have a full range of emotions(even if she most commonly exhibits the more upbeat aspects), and she tries to be personable and friendly when she does directly interact with other people(aside from probably ignoring them to check the internet for a bit). She has the common sense to realize she's a few circuits short of a computer, but she does consider the less-sane parts of her to, well, be part of her. Aside from trying to manage the more misanthropic impulses(with a few different inventions she's made), she makes no particular effort to hide her nature or apologize for it.
Abilities: Technomancy-That is, Magic(or whatever you wanna call it) that directly interacts with, creates, analyzes, and/or manipulates technology. With a thought she can take raw materials and work them into shape, combine metals into alloys, make engines float around her or input data to a computer from across a room.
Raw technological creativity burns behind her eyes, whispering designs and murmuring secrets she can all but consciously understand, urging her to put components together and create new inventions, both wondrous and terrible. She can draw upon this...Inspiration, to create things useful to her or on commission, but just as often it projects ideas, brilliant ideas into her mind that she herself had no hand in the creation of. Sometimes these designs have no useful or practical function(a computer that interprets input data to 3D-print paradoxic structures, a monolith that seems to do nothing but draw power into itself and hum ominously, a metal three times as heavy as lead and more fragile than glass, ect), some are useful only as components for greater wonders, and some are impossible for her to build with the materials on hand. A few have a useful purpose and can be produced with what possessions she has, and with these she renders down anything at hand into base components to build whatever she currently is obsessing over in a semi-deranged glee. But regardless of how practical these designs are, she still receives them, and the urge to make them real.
Should be noted that while she can reshape materials with her powers, she isn't an alchemist or transmutationist, which means that for some of her more...esoteric...creations, she does have to be able to actually procure materials. She can't just, say, make a nuclear weapon without access to uranium or plutonium or something; likewise, unless she first builds a reactor capable of creating some(which would be slightly difficult in and of itself), she couldn't make anything relating to antimatter. The closest she can get to transmutation or the like is taking two materials and chemically bonding them to make a new material, or taking a compound material and separating it into base components. So she can make steel without a forge if she has iron and carbon, or take a lump of iron ore and shape the iron out from the rock. She cannot take lead into her hands and make it into gold. Additionally, there is a certain level of...advancement, lets say, that must occur in the object for her to be able to manipulate it, and more technologically advanced things are easier for her to control, create, manipulate, and understand. Metals tend to be extremely easy, as are non- or rarely-naturally occurring materials like glass. But while she can levitate a wild western-style revolver or make it jam, she cannot manipulate a wooden spear with her powers, nor can she operate an abacus without being taught how they are meant to function.
Biography: Janice is one of those who remembers a time before being empowered. She was once a normal child, if one gifted with machines, born in a small city in the northeastern US. Nothing groundbreaking, she didn't build a cold fusion reactor or anything, just...She always had a knack with them. She was quick to understand how clockwork made the hands tick-tock, how to make a small light out of a simply circuit and a battery, that sort of thing. She ended up in machinery clubs in school, and her hobby growing up was always to tinker away in a makeshift workshop at her home. But one day, when she was around fourteen...she started to grow a bit more reclusive about her tinkering. She wasn't sure where the idea came from, it just...it just was there, and she, she couldn't understand it, but something about it was...beautiful, in its way. She cannibalized parts from her other little gizmos and gadgets, skipped school, even baricaded the door to her workshop to stop her parents from dragging her out. It took her a full week, and she had to sneak out when she was sure her parents were asleep to get more materials, more parts.
She'd been so focused, so obsessed with her creation, that she never even noticed the news reports about a young boy in Russia.
It took her a full two weeks of work, of stealing components(to be perfectly frank, while she was making her Thing, people had a lot more to worry about than some crazy fourteen year old stealing someone's computer or breaking into the local factory to snatch its tools), but eventually the idea seemed...complete. Unpolished, certainly, it was a twelve-foot-tall tower made of twisted metal, random cabling, and exposed circuitry, but the idea in her head wasn't...everypresent, anymore, it wasn't overpowering her mind or dominating her thoughts. The first thing she realized was that she'd barely eaten in two weeks and was absolutely starving; she'd only had a couple meals every few days while working on it because food was a distraction from her work. The second thing she realized was that, holy shit, she barricaded herself in her workshop to keep her parents from interfering. She should probably tell them she was sorry, she just, just had to finish her thing, she couldn't wait to show it to them and explain what it...what...
...What did it do?
As you might guess, things were...tense...the next few days, as she tried in vain to explain everything that'd been running through her head, words failing to properly communicate the force of idea and inspiration running wild through her mind the previous couple of weeks. But...unlike her, her parents knew well what'd been happening all over the world. They actually kept up with the news...and they were ery scared that whatever happened had overtaken their daughter. After a few days, they initially started thinking, hoping, that it was just a fluke...a brief flash of hormone imbalance or...something...that coincidentally happened to occur alongside everything else, and that everything would go back to normal. Then Janice casually walked out of her room with her powered-on computer(newly bought, since she cannibalized the previous one; she kinda needed it for school), unplugged, floating behind her with the monitor flashing through website after website and programs flying on one by one. She hadn't even realized it was behind her until her father screamed and she turned around.
Yeah, things...weren't going to go back to normal. But it turns out having a mad genius as your loving daughter is kinda a godsend during a magical apocalypse-there were more than a few superpowered people going crazy in her hometown(and a couple mundane maniacs who wanted to get in on the action while the gettin's good, too), and if it weren't for her and the things she kept inventing, they'd almost certainly have been killed in the ensuing bloodbath. Once, a aspiring serial killer tried bursting into her house with a tommygun of all things, only to find it jam when he tried shooting her family and all of the bullets spontaneously detonate with the gun in his hand. Another time, a pyrokinetic tried holding up the grocery store while she and her folks were out shopping-and ended up tangled and choking in a mess of wires as the power cables ripped through the walls themselves to ensnare him. She never went complete batshit like some other empowered individuals, but her friends and parents noticed her very clearly growing more and more...enthusiastic...about her powers as time went on. She never quite intentionally killed anyone, per say, but she grew more than a little sadistic towards the crazies when it came time to protect herself and her loved ones, and after the third time she stopped being even a little scared, reveling in the thrill of it all.
Sadly, one girl with a mastery of machines can only do so much.
She was powerless to stop the ascendancy of the Great Arcane Union, of course. And likewise, when their soldiers started rolling in to take over her city, she wasn't going to even try to stop them. Twisted monsters under thrall of summoners, superhumans with the backing of a state...these weren't things she was anywhere near equipped to deal with. Her family was smart enough to leave the city itself when they started rolling in, and for two years they stayed on the run. It wasn't as though the GAU was going to let a powerful technomancer slip through their fingers after all, and while Janice knew she was falling down on the slippery slope of mania, she didn't want to even think of what kind of person she'd become under their tutelage and encouragement.
It wasn't until she turned nineteen that her family found someone able to help. A smuggler, specializing in getting Empowered people-and their families-out of the country, out to somewhere...safer. There was a city-state, he said, somewhere over in Europe, one that'd managed to retain some semblance of sanity in a world gone mad. Sure, they had Empowered, but they regulated it, they kept the rule of law, and it wasn't run by a bunch've wannabe demigods with eyes set on world conquest. Of course, he wasn't in the business purely for charity, and his price was steep, but...Well, the honesty that he was making a quick buck off the state of the world helped her and her family to trust him before being willing to get on board his plane, with the last of their worldly possessions, and make a new life elsewhere.
The trip was long and a bit uncomfortable; it was obvious the plane had seen some better days. They started to panic when they saw a GAU Airship right in their path, wondering if their guide had sold them out...only to be perplexed when the airship went right past them as though they weren't there. The smuggler explained with a shit-eating grin that he discovered he had what he called the power of Obfuscation-as he willed it, people stopped noticing him. Their eyes glazed over him, and just stopped...noticing he was there. After a couple years? He'd learned to project the power over a larger area. It was pretty obvious to him what kinda job he'd end up in with that particular skillset. Also terribly useful for getting into places unnoticed, but he warned his guests not to try to stay in the city undocumented; better to explain to the officials that they're a group of refugees and spend the time in processing to get an official pass than to be taken for a bunch of spies.
Since then, it's been a fairly quiet decade. She stayed with her parents at first as everyone got settled in to their new life, but moved out when she was around 23 into her Secret Lair(really just a duplex apartment, but she insists it's a Secret Lair. Even if everyone who knows her is aware of where it is), and supports herself by building useful gizmos and gadgets for people willing to buy them, with special priority and discount given to the government of Mundin-after all, they're the ones keeping her and her family safe and allowing them a sense of relative normalcy. It's only fitting that she should pitch in and help them out...Upgraded computers here for the social sector here, better weapons for the PD there. With the world going to hell, everyone's gotta pitch in to keep the last few havens standing.
Specialties: Blurs a bit with her more preternatural abilities, but she is mundanely skilled with operating technology and understanding how it functions. This mundane knowledge, for the most part, only serves to feed into and support her powers however, and she has decidedly focused herself within learning how to control her powers and building her inventions, to the detriment of other skills. After all, she reasons, technology is by definition meant to make our lives easier; so if something comes up, she can just build a new tool to help her handle the situation at hand.
Equipment:
Kept On Person Regularly-
-Super Duper Secret Lair Entrance Device(that is, her apartment key)
-Manic Converter: Small device she can channel Magic/Superpower through to generate an electric charge; not enough to drain someone entirely of their powers or anything though, just enough to have a(rather strong) source of power. For her in particular, it also helps her to keep her more...unstable impulses under check when actively being used, as these impulses are directly tied to her powers. Device itself is a pair of small plates that fits over the back of her hands and are worn as part of a pair of gloves, and have a port on the side closest to her forearm to connect to other devices as a power source. On the side next to her knuckles, has two prongs that allow them to be used as impromptu punch-tasers, which only activate if she actively feeds her power into the converters while intending that part to activate(using her powers, that is; nobody else can activate that part unless they too are technomancers). Self defense is important, after all.
-Uplink Glasses: Sadly, she hasn't quite been able to figure out how to miniaturize computer circuits enough to have a fully functional computer system integrated into her glasses. She was able to make them into a transceiver, though, and they're linked to her home computer, acting as a monitor for it that can display web windows or whatever program she needs right that moment and with headphones built into the earpieces. Normally, she'd think the entire concept is a horrible cybersecurity flaw, but they're almost useless to anyone else aside from being prescription glasses; she uses her powers as a direct input device to manipulate them instead of a haptic interface or keyboard or whatever, and the glasses themselves don't have ports(nor are they big enough besides) to allow someone else to connect one to them. To be perfectly honest, they essentially function as a hands-free smartphone for her with all the advantages of a home computer processing.
-Wallet, pocket money, ID, yadda yadda.
Kept In Secret Lair(aka apartment)-
-Jetwings: See the appearance image? It's basically a jetpack. It's big and clunky though, and the police generally frown upon you using a personal flying device reliant on jet propulsion in a populated area, so she doesn't generally take it with her unless she needs to. Can be mostly powered by her Manic Converter, but does still require some fuel source nevertheless.
-Monolith:A replica of the...thing...she built when she initially discovered her powers. A 12-foot tall technological tower, with a black-plastic shell covering the outside(one of the few parts she intentionally added). One of the very few bits of technology she can't actually figure out the true purpose of, which infuriates her to no end and is why she built the replica of the original(was a biiiit too big to get out of the door of her original house). As far as she can tell, all it does is suck power and hum, but it's packed with electronics and circuitboards placed haphazardly but with...Some underlying purpose. Also what really proves to her in her mind that not all of her inventions are created based on her own thoughts and ideas, but instead the result of some force manifesting as her power acting through her. And whatever this force is, it isn't keen on letting her know just what this particular device is for, not yet. For safe's sake? She chooses to keep it unpowered when she isn't trying to analyze it and figure out just what it's for...But, there is still another out there.
-Computer: A very powerful computer, custom-built by Janice using her powers and operates on principles far ahead of modern science(and very probably doesn't actually follow conventional physics); for example, its central processor is a crystal that refracts small beams of light to serve as memory storage, with three-dimensional circuitry embedded throughout the entirety of the crystal. Has a long-range transceiver connected to her glasses to allow those to serve as a monitor for it while she's out of her Secret Lair(tm).
Otherwise Owned-
-Bank Account, money
-Stuff-to-be-added-later-during-RP
Other:
-Didn't wanna put this directly in the explanation of her powers because not everyone's played WoD games, but if you have, you can think of her powerset and personality as somewhere between a OWoD Mage Technocrat and a NWoD mid-high Obligation Genius without the Paradox/Havoc. She can build and manipulate almost anything technological, and some of it doesn't actually even fully conform to conventional physics, but her "magic" as it were is very limited outside of dealing with matters of technology and she doesn't have full control over the force of Inspiration her powers give her to build her gizmos-most of what she does end up building is because she feels compelled to do so, not (necessarily) because she intentionally thought the idea for it up.
-Under watch by Mundin for less-than-stable tendencies. Willingness to work with Mundin governmental body is noted, of course, but also noted is her immigration from the GAU. I'd imagine it's at least a little likely that they're keeping tabs on her in case she turns out to be a mole-she won't, but they obviously don't know that, and in this kinda world they'll no-doubt need to keep a healthy amount of paranoia. |
54,584 | 1,490 | 3 | 719 | 305 | Nothing can stop Margaret from kneeling on a corner and recite the Memorare, not even anyone thinking she should've already put her imaginary friends back in the past. And this was what the girl had just finished wrapping up. Today's special requests for intercession was, of course, for things to run smoothly as the city-- the country, begins busying itself for its annual celebrations. Not to mention, too, an intercession for the Prime Minister to just finish picking his clothes and combing his hair already. She had on herself the Memorare leaflet among countless other leaflets in her front pocket, the white devotional scapular of the Most Blessed Trinity, and a relic of St. John Paul II, a tiny strand of hair encased in glass and decorated with a wooden inscription bearing the pope's name. Whether they actually had mysterious powers, most especially in this age of warring wizards and psychics, is subject to dispute.
Going back to the parliament's courtyard, a bored platoon of troops continued to lie in wait while the good 'ol PM was still wrapping up things on his end. In fact, even the officer on duty himself was keeping himself entertained through his holophone, playing the latest installment in his fancied side-scroller franchise. Though as soon as someone-- one who appeared to be their supplier of sophisticated equipment and gizmos, came hurrying right up to Margaret's face and asked where he was, the officer on duty put his holophone aside and started making his approach as the girl started to explain things back.
"The officer is just right there, walking to you." she replied, her voice faltering faintly as she pointed a finger.
The officer, a tall and mustached, but rather lean man in his late thirties, briefly flashed a small grimace of slight annoyance before walking up to the lady.
"...and you're the one making shipments, I suppose. Where's your load?" | Margaret Vergilia
Age: 26
Gender: Female.
Race/Nationality: Irish-born, with Roman lineages. Weak accent.
5'8", 166 lb, slender physique. Heterochromic, with one blue eye and one normally green eye, the latter changing color upon her power's influence. Her very light blonde hair covers that green eye, and shines an almost white color under certain lights. Typically wears in either neutral color schemes, very regal clothing or military uniform.
Personality:
In this world full of sorcerers, heathens, god-maniacs and skeptics, she is perhaps one of the very, very few to worship God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, let alone any god or godly spirit. Even while the Vatican is now all but a tiny institution, Margaret herself remains firmly rooted in her Catholic faith, and still puts much of its devotional principles into practice. As such, Margaret can often be seen contemplating on the mysteries of the Rosary in the morning, suddenly stopping to pray exactly at noon and 6 in the evening, fervently praying when encountered with adversary, and carrying devotional scapulars, prayer leaflets and relics of saints. Her continuous faith can be attributed to an incredible coincidence of her family's deep religious traditions and the holy-like nature of her power, and even her family continues to hide any trace of their newfound irreligion should she contact them.
Consequently enough, this deep devotion has also compelled her to gain some notorious traits of the typical zealous Middle Ages crusader. In particular, Margaret often believes herself to have the right to damn anyone to Hell, and most especially condemns Novodeans, GAUs, and, to much hypocrisy, self-righteous people. Margaret believes the rise of humanity's power as God's test on whoever is virtuous enough to use God's gift wisely and gain right to Heaven, and whoever is wicked enough to use God's gift for nefarious intentions and earn damnation. Among Margaret's list of what constitutes as virtue is the fervency to purge whatever she deems as sin... which would in turn spell quite some trouble in this age.
In general, Margaret is very disdainful to the brash, but kind to the gentle. She, in turn, is gentle-natured most of the time, but thinks highly about herself and can come off as arrogant occasionally. Margaret, though, is willing to rend her abilities, especially the Spirit, in servicing people for the better.
Besides religion, Margaret has actually quite a knack for games both video and board (though not really good with the former), drinking, and dining to the point of gluttony (while surprisingly staying fit). It seems much of her morals are simply quite focused on the issue of superhumanity and is willing to let it be loose, if not totally absent, when it comes to other aspects.
Abilities:
Divinity
A luminous form of magic that comes in three forms, altogether making Margaret angel-like in power. She has named the forms after the aspects of the Holy Trinity:
The Power of the Father - Simply referred to as the Father, the energy of Divinity is conjured into forms able to hurt and kill. The Father can damage anything that lives with extra effectiveness against any creature of a summoned background (except intelligents), but is not capable of doing damage to nonliving things.
The Wisdom of the Son - Simply referred to as the Son. Luminous wings made out of Divinity and capable of flight and highly effective shielding.
The Love of the Holy Spirit - Simply referred to as the Holy Spirit or Spirit. Performs the exact opposite purpose of the Father: to heal. Rends wounds at a very quick rate, but may not be able to resurrect one that has sustained an injury severe enough to deliver quick or instant death.
All three abilities derive from the same energy pool. Should one ability sustain overuse, other abilities may be rendered unusable upon the depletion of Divinity. One can read how exhausted her reserves are by her heterochromic green left eye: increased use reddens it, and turns black as her energies go less and less.
Biography:
Born within the more Catholic confines of Ireland, Margaret was raised by a wealthy family whose faith was rather empty; despite a large collection of religious icons and even relics of saints, most of them simply didn't have the motivation to attend regular Masses nor take any prayer seriously. This was Margaret, too; the girl used not to have a care in anything.
Around 11, however, Margaret suddenly started heading to a life of "sainthood". From a simple fascination with icons and relics, it all then spiraled into full-blown devotion, something so sudden her parents started thinking what the hell has gone wrong.
Cue hell breaking loose.
Concerns grew even deeper. What if Margaret was to become one of those maniacs on the news? Her family had already began packing their bags in case she did prove herself to be one. And when they finally saw her floating around the rooms, bearing wings of light, it was then decided that it was high time they got the hell out of here.
Just as they were about to leave, however, a crazed telekinetic decided it would be fun to join on the rampage, starting with the Vergilias. When they were then cornered and as her father had just sustained a blow to his shoulder with a rock, Margaret raced quickly out of the house, struck the attacker in the face with a beam of light, and fixed his father's shoulder in a snap.
Though some of the rest of the family acquired their powers, Margaret was still best suited to guide her family while they roamed around, before settling on Mundin months later. This proved to be a wise choice; the city-state would later become one of the few remaining safe havens of the world, and for the rest of the years the Vergilias would then live in peace without a care in the world... while Margaret had her own duties to pursue, as a soldier of the Defense Unit and "most importantly, as a soldier of God".
Specialties:
Adept at memorization, and knows the entirety of the Catholic Pastoral Editon Bible, all known Catholic prayers, and the encyclicals of St. John Paul II. Strong-willed and motivated. Fluent in Latin and English.
Equipment:
Regularly keeps with herself scapulars, a Rosary and a Miraculous Medal, along with money, IDs and other necessities.
Has tons of religious icons and relics of saints in her home. Mostly retrieved from her old home, but some new ones are in there as well.
Other:
Margaret is stationed at the long-range defense placements on the coast facing Britain.
Prefers wines, but will still occasionally take beer.
Very much loves steaks. Dislikes fruits, but likes leafy greens. |
54,585 | 1,490 | 4 | 707 | 519 | Elliot scanned the crowd with a rhythmic precision, his shoulders tense and his brows knotted. He shifted his weight from one foot to another and glanced towards the PM and then his fellow officers, it seemed they were all getting restless too.
"This PM better hurry the hell up..." Elliot said to no one particular, though he saw the officer on his immediate left, a funny little fellow called Rupert, crack a small grin. Elliot tugged at his jacket and checked his wallet keys and phone were still in there and when he looked back up he spotted a girl talking to the Captain and couldn't help as a fond smile tugged at his lips. Everyone from the station remembered her of course and she had a habit of making all the officers smile and grin when she was brought up in conversation.
Elliot let his shoulders relax, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, when he breathed out he opened them again and he found himself enjoyig the day. After all, today was a celebration! | Posting a Wip CS, I will probably finish later todayName: William Reeves
Age: 18
Gender:Male
Race/Nationality: British
Personality: William has always been a quiet kid, obeying
William can transform at will into a demonic creature with 8 shields in the shape of coffins appearing on his back. The transformation gives a boost on his strength, speed and durability; making him capable of leaping tall buildings with ease, his shields are durable enough that anything short of hunting rifles and more powerful weapons will only scratch them and his speed goes up to a limit of 100 mph but he can barely recognize his surroundings at that point which makes it difficult for him to move.
The shields he has are all connected by one chain that is bolted on his two shoulders, which William can use to control his shields with the disadvantage that the shields can be cumbersome and difficult to control at times. The shields have a range of 4 meters before the chain meets its limit.
Biography: Born in rural England William's life didn't change much on the first months after the event happened but as time passed living became harder on his village. The influx of refugees from the main cities of England to rural places had attracted powered individuals to the area, some of which left their cursed monsters to roam the land, changing the local environment drastically. With the whole world in chaos the citizens over the region realized that no army was going to save them and that they would have to fight back with their own powers. In William's village gifted people with offensive powers would be the ones who would deal with summons and hostile gifted in their area with some non offensive gifted as backup. The ones that had more defensive or support powers were either supporting the offensive gifted or put to work in the fields with other normal people. Each gifted was drilled on his head three things: To never use his powers for personal benefit, to protect the defenseless and to obey their superiors. The end result would be a group of highly obedient powered individuals ready to serve the people. William would join them at 13 years old once his powers awakened and was placed on the offensive types where his job consisted on patrolling the village in search of hostile summons and the occasional gifted that wanted to burn it all to the ground. After sometime once Britain had reached a sense of stability
Specialties: Any other talent besides being able to bend a spoon with your own mind belongs here.
Equipment: Blade:
Other: Anything else that doesn't fit above. |
54,586 | 1,490 | 5 | 362 | 148 | Ken Black
Ken was exhausted from the moment the day began. He had far too much to drink last night, and woke up at 5 am with a mindnumbing hangover that just didn't seem to want to abate. He was drinking because he was so stressed about his assignment for the next day. He was supposed to protect the prime minister? All he's good at is getting punched and then getting back up. Not for protecting one of the most important figures around. What was he gonna do if some shmuck came in chucking lightning? Nothing. As he stood in the lineup, he was a bit dissapointed with the officer on duty and some around him, why were they so nonchalant? This was serious business!
Then in came Margaret. Ken may have stared for a bit too long, but how could he not? She seemed really cool, and sounded strong from what he'd heard, and he enjoyed Sparring with people stronger than him . He also heard she was religiously devoted, which he found interesting. It helped that he found her pretty... Staring again. Ken also noticed Janice had made an appearance, and wondered why she hadn't developed something to just teleportation herself at this point, she was smart enough for that, wasn't she?
Despite the distractions, Ken still found himself unable to shake off his unease about having to protect the minister, but he continued to try and convince himself he was over thinking it. After all, who'd be stupid enough to attack the prime minister? | Name:
Mathias Anderson
Alias/Surname:
'Matthew' Anderson
Age:
34
Gender:
Male
Race/Nationality:
Half Swedish and British, American Citizen
Appearance:
Matthew has a mesomorphic build that is healthy in shape from physical activities that keep him like this. With a light tan on his skin, that's solidly all on him, which isn't too uncommon in America from all the sun that they get. Sporting a rather muscular and athletic frame, that is mostly associated with the younger generation. Having a warm and modest brown eyes that give his smile a certain charm to them that gives a certain expectation of who he seems to be like. Having a usually casual style of fashion for the most part unless a certain event calls for it, he is certainly a fashionable person who seems to have a nice outfit each day for the week.
Personality:
Matthew can be described as a talkative person with his own brand of charm to go along with it, being the kind of person that kinda just incites conversation or talking whenever he's around. He is an adventurous and sociable person who likes doing a variety of things that seems fun or interesting to him, with an insatiable appetite for enjoying time with people no matter what they do. Possessing a slight procrastination streak around him, but there is never a time that he doesn't pull through even if it is a bit last minute. People usually don't mind him as he's really great company for all the other times that he isn't rushing to complete something that's due the next day. It also may be his personality and having a habit of being a flirt to everyone around him, as a part of his outgoing nature. He is easily a likable guy that you wouldn't mind talking to on a daily basis or even meeting him casually on the street from the kind of personality that he seems to bubble out.
This all hides a slicker and oily side to Matthew that many people don't see often as he never seems to have a reason to start thinking like this again. It was a mindset that helped Matthew survived the chaotic world back then in California where things were much worse. Living in fear of your life at times, you tend to lose some of your emotions and prepare to survive at all cost. Not to mention the kind of things that he was caught in that would scar a person more or less from doing it themselves. This is the side that he has been letting rust away ever since living in Mundin but hopefully, he never has to put it on again.
Abilities:
Telepathy is an ability that Matthew possess which allows him to various feats with his mind that others like him are able to do. With his skills as a Telepath, being surprisingly advance that is compared to most who do not develop their powers further than simple thought reading and communication. While, he is able to do the simple feats of skimming the thoughts of people and communicate mentally to others, he is versed in things beyond that. However, he is limited to communicating to other people mentally so long as they are in a mile radius.
At the current status of his abilities, he is able to control his own mind and influence the unprotected minds of others who are around him. With a variety of effects that he can perform on those that he is targeting, he prefers to cunningly use his abilities in ways that are not so obvious. Influencing things that are subtle enough to not stand out, it prevents the victim from noticing anything that could be wrong. His mental abilities can be indeed used with more brute force, but a contest of willpower against him and his target is something that he would prefer not to enter. The skill that Matthew has at this level while may allow him to mind control a target, it is tedious for him to suppress the subconscious of his victim into a coma-like state constantly should they fight which will deduct from his concentration.
Outside of influencing other people mind's, he is perfectly able to control his own as he seems fit which for the most part seems to be unique to himself from what he can tell. Being hypercognitive from what he can tell as his mind simply allows him to learn quite quickly from what he has experienced before. Occasionally, brief moments of clarity seems to pierce through his stick skull that he remarks about jokingly. However, whatever this ability is, it seems to stem outside of his abilities of a telepath. Other than these abilities, it seems that Matthew is unable to use anything else such as telekinesis which is a common extension of those who have psychic abilities.
Biography:
Matthew lived in California where the sun shined and the heat never died; it was a bustling place where many people ran around both when during the day and at night. It also was the place where his father and mother met before marrying to settle down together several years later and buying a nice home in the suburbs to live that was close to each other's workplace. Here his father and mother provided for him while he lived the normal life of a teenager like everyone else and was a very popular kid around the school. Tension, however, began to grow as the spark of powers in California's population began to explode left and right. People began to get hurt and disappear as powers began to spark through California which spread like a wildfire, with rebellious teenagers causing trouble at school and shady gangs on the street. Everything was starting to feel less safe except for home and their neighborhood, where the conflict hadn't reach them yet.
Things would deteriorate as the stability of their area quickly went down the drain as fighting broke out everywhere. Nowhere was safe from the initial conflict between the powered individuals and many people stayed inside. Matthew while knowing the risk went on to graduate from High School despite the various problems that occurred there. Many people he knew and the staff that taught there had developed their own unique array of powers; Matthew himself was no exception as he developed the ability to read the minds of others at first. It would go on for many years living in dreadful California where crime seemingly soared due to the use of crimes with powers that aided them. With the gangs who rose and fell off the weekly, people getting hurt from other abilities, and many other problems, it was not a good time to live in California.
His Dad and Mom too developed their own powers but moved due to their jobs relocated all essential personnel to different locations. His mother luckily was transferred to another division that worked out with his father. Matthew himself was pressured to stay in California to finish his education that he received multiple scholarships to pay for his tuition for school and inevitably stayed there. It would be a terrible decision that he would make as, while the university itself was protected, there were those who infiltrated in and dragged people out into the conflict. Matthew himself was one those victim who was picked out for his abilities as a mind reader. There he was slowly plunged into the criminal world where he grew accustomed to the things he saw there. Growing his powers to survive the threats that were shoved into his face, eventually, he managed to fend for himself against the demands of the gangs who 'hired' him. Eventually, after several refusals, it was clearly told to Matthew that he had garnered the bad will of the gang.
It would be a few long and hard years but he would eventually get his masters degree in chemistry and move away from all this mess. He first left to his parent's place where they openly accepted him into their house as they haven't seen their child in forever. With a ton of catching up to do, it was only a week before he could sense that someone or something was watching him and needed to take care of it before it went out of hand. Dedicating some time to finding the source, he eventually found his stalker from California and erased his memories before quickly packing up again. Moving from place to place, as he would get a job for a few months until leaving because of the complications that followed him. Taking care of each one that was tasked to follow him, it wasn't until eventually that he cross the ocean that the attempts for revenge stopped. Landing in Europe where he was new to the country and had little to go off on, he called his friend who originally told him to come over.
There now for several years, Matthew has been living in Mundin where he found a suitable job as a chemist for a lab to test samples brought to them. While not a glamorous job, it paid very generously and it was enough for Matthew as on the occasion he received the rare chance to jump up on the hierarchy ladder. His life in Mundin so far has been uneventful beyond what he began to normalize as the daily for himself.
Specialties:
General Science Knowledge
Chemical Knowldge
Cooking, even as a College Student he learned to fend for himself...
Charisma, was something Matthew had and was evident as the outgoing and popular kid.
Fluent speaker of English, Spanish, and Swedish, however, prefers to speak with the more commonly used one depending on the scenario.
Silver Tounge, something he gained himself with his friends and a darker period of his life.
Perceptive, about his surrounding and small detail even with people which makes him a great listener.
Equipment:
Cellphone
Wallet (Identification, Money, and miscellaneous items)
Key + Laser Keychain to apartment
Laptop Backpack for when he decides to sit down at a Cafe with Wifi
A random pen in his pocket
An apartment, which he shares with his roommate
Other:
Nothing |
54,587 | 1,490 | 6 | 990 | 170 | Sora hummed a little tune as he ducked and weaved passed the people in the bustling city streets. Slung over his shoulder was a bag, filled to the brim with cash. The bag originally belonged to the owner of several stores and establishments that reside within Mundin. Just a few hours earlier, the business owner had decided to buy into a high-stakes game of poker. Unfortunately for him, Sora was playing in the same game. After just forty-five minutes of playing, Sora had already taken everything the entrepreneur had placed on the table. A smile slid it’s way onto Sora’s face as he remembered the businessman’s face as he lost. The mix of anger and complete bewilderment on his face, after he lost hand after hand, was priceless. Although this wasn’t the reason that Sora attended the game. The real reason he was there was simply for information. The surplus of money was just a happy addition to what he really went there for. Several of the people playing in the game, including the businessman, were not what one would call law abiding citizens. They were all involved in the city's criminal enterprises, in one form or another, and Sora was there to see what their plans were for today’s festivities. Much to his disappointment, there were no great big plays being made against the city today.
Sora quickly stopped humming as he made a sudden and sharp turn into a nearby alleyway. He knew the city’s street and alley systems like the back of his hand, and this was the most efficient route to Parliament. He wasn’t interested in today’s festivities, and he decided to go inform the soldiers of the lack of criminal activity. A couple years back, Sora approached the MDU and MPU with an offer. He offered to become a confidential informant in return for relative freedom to work within the city. This was initially met with nothing but laughter, and Sora took his leave. The next time Sora showed up at MPU headquarters, he brought information that not only resulted in several successful drug busts, but also brought a criminal drug smuggling ring to an abrupt end. The MDU/MPU had no choice but to accept his offer at that point.
A left turn and then a right. A few minutes passed as Sora snaked his way through the alleyways. Most of the alleys were empty due to the fact that almost everyone in the city was currently funneling into St. Jeanne Plaza. Sora made one more left turn and kept going straight until the alley suddenly opened up. The sight before him was none other than an empty pathway leading straight to the Parliament Courtyard. He stood there only for a moment as he pondered his approach. He then reached into the bag, pulled out the money he used to buy into the poker game, put the cash into his jacket pocket, and then made his way up the pathway. The walk didn’t take too long, and soon enough he found himself in front of a small platoon of guards and what looked like a supplier of equipment. He was glad to see that his assumption that the Prime Minister would be delaying his involvement in the festivities was correct.
A smile crept onto his face as he said, “Well, well, well. Isn’t it my favorite platoon of goodie-two-shoes. How’s guard duty treating y’all?” He took a short pause to toss the bag of money off to the side and away from him, “I seriously don’t know how you guys do it. This looks like one of the most boring jobs on the planet, and I should know, my father was a college professor”, he chuckled, “Anywho, Your faithful spider has come to report on what news has fallen into his web!” He bowed towards the soldiers as he finished his sentence. | Name: Sora Zardathian
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race/Nationality: Caucasian & North American Immigrant
Personality: In a world of the manic and empowered, Sora has survived. When the world suddenly gained powers, an event he calls “The Singularity”, he learned quickly that the world he once knew came to a very abrupt end. Since then, Sora has survived using intellect, cunning, and manipulation. With the skills of a conman and psychologist, he goes through life playing with the hearts and minds of others to reach his goals. He never forgets a debt, good or bad. If you do find yourself on the wrong side of his good graces, take caution. He is the type of man to smile and take whatever punishment is given, all the while planning your downfall in a spectacular manner.
Although he is proud of his lifestyle, it is a lifestyle of distrust and disinformation. He will often keep people at arm's length, never allowing people to see his true feelings and motivations. This is both a way of hiding his underlying goals as well as a way to defend himself from future loss. If one does get passed his walls and barriers, and get close enough to be called an ally or friend, Sora will do anything for them.
Abilities:
Shadowmancy
Sora has the ability to alter and manipulate the shadows around him at will. He can do anything from giving the shadows a physical form and shape, to traveling through them at breakneck speeds. Sora has broken down the ability into 5 main overarching abilities.
Shadow Constructs - Sora can create physical objects using the shadows in the near vicinity. There is no restrictions on what he can create other than that there must be enough shadow to create the desired object and that it cannot be sentient. There are a few Caveats to using the shadows in this way though. Shadows were never meant to have a physical presence in the world and constantly try to return to their natural state. This means that Sora must make a constant effort to maintain the object’s form. The bigger the item, the more effort and concentration it takes to maintain the object's physical existence.
Shadow Marionetes - Closely related to Shadow Constructs, Sora can controls and shape the shadows how he sees fit. Be the shadows physical or not, he can control how they look and how they move. Combining this ability with Shadow Constructs, Sora can create the illusion of life and sentience. For example, by creating a Shadow Construct of a Tiger, He could control the Tiger’s movements and actions like it was a real Tiger. This is all an act though and can be seen through by experienced eyes. Controlling Shadow Constructs is a mentally taxing task, and increases the difficulty of maintaining the object’s physical presence in the world.
Shadow Walk - Sora has the ability to temporarily turn himself into shadows and move through them with blinding speed. He can also hide within the shadows to escape detection or to eavesdrop in on private meetings and conversations. As a shadow he cannot interact with the physical world and can only maintain what changes he has already made to the shadows around him. Also, when he is travelling through the shadows, he cannot travel to non-connecting shadows. An example would be going into the shadow of a mailbox. If the shadow of a nearby lamp is overlapping the shadow of the mailbox, Sora can jump into that shadow and keep moving. If there are no other shadows overlapping the mailbox’s shadow, then Sora would be confined within the shadow of the mailbox. Also, although he turned into shadow, he is not impervious to damage. Although the damage is reduced, any physical or mental trauma he sustains as a shadow will take effect when he returns to a physical form. Another note would be that, if the shadow Sora is currently possessing disappears, he will automatically return to his normal state.
Shadow Mind - Sora has a natural shield against mental attacks. The shield isn’t overly strong though. Strong telepaths can still push through it and attempt to seize his mind, but he/she will find that there is a mysterious second entity helping to repel the attack. Sora has surmised that the natural darkness within the human anatomy is what actually shields his brain and mind, and therefor cannot get any stronger or weaker since the shadows within the body never changes.
Shadow Theater - This is Sora’s strongest ability, but also the least used. By entering a meditative state, Sora can syphon the shadows in a large radius around him to create a large room sized area of shadows. He can willingly control how the light reacts within this area and create several complex Shadow Constructs. He has found that this is not a practical ability for combat and to only be used as a trap or training tool. He has only ever practically used this ability twice and both times were to help him escape capture from the GAU.
Biography:
Ever since he could remember, Sora could read other people’s true motivations. He didn’t know why, but he learned at a young age how to observe the voice fluctuations and body language of others. He could sense when he was being used or lied too, and it lead him to be ostracised by almost all the kids his age and even some groups of adults. Since he didn’t have any real friends, he became very introverted and turned to books and video games to pass the time. Most of the books he ended up reading were educational books, a large portion of them being about psychology, philosophy, and communication. This was because of his father, who worked as college teacher for some college that Sora can’t remember the name of, kept bringing home textbooks and scientific magazines. Sora was content on being a silent academic, but that all changed when he was 10 years old.
That was when the world got turned upside down. In an event, that Sora would later coin “The Singularity”, where a large portion of the world’s population gained supernatural abilities. Sora remembers the sudden chaos the ensued in the passing months. His most vivid memory of this time period was the sudden rise of the Great Arcane Union. They made short work of the United States Government, and quickly spread their influence through the continent as an opressive and tyrannical force. It was around this time that Sora and his father fled to Canada.
It wasn’t long before the GAU focused its sights on the Norther Territories, and once again Sora had to watch as he lost everything. This time was much worse though. In an effort to defend what little they had left, both Sora and his father joined the local rebellion. A small group of powered people who had the idea in their heads that they had what it takes to stop the GAU, they were wrong. After a couple of months of relative success, the rebel leaders got word that a member of the Grand Council would be passing through a nearby town. The rebels thought it to be a great opportunity to deal a significant blow to the GAU. Sora was the only one to sense that something was off with the messenger that delivered the news. Over and over Sora voiced his concerns, but his words fell upon deaf ears as the rebel leaders were blinded by such a ripe opportunity. A week later the entirety of the rebellion forces moved out in what would be their largest operation yet. It was also their last.
Sora was right to be concerned. Apparently a few weeks prior, one of the rebel force’s messengers was captured by the GAU. The messenger was tortured and brainwashed into working for the GAU, and then sent back into the field to work as a double agent. The exact same messenger was later given false information to give to the leaders of the rebellion. What was going to be the biggest opportunity for the rebel forces quickly became their biggest downfall. When the rebels reached the town, they were quickly greeted by a large group of hostiles and 3 members of the Grand Council commanding them. It was a massacre. Sora watched as the GAU slaughtered everyone he cared about.. The only thing that Sora could do was run. It wasn’t enough though. His escape route was cut off by none other than one of the Grand Council. Just before the man was about to land the killing blow, Sora’s father stepped in and sacrificed himself. Sora watched has his father was maimed and mutilated by the man's magic. Sora ran, but not before lashing out at the man and leaving a visible cut down the right side of his face. Sora escaped from the town, the lone survivor.
After the fall of the rebellion, Sora was a wanted enemy of the GAU and he was alone. He spent the next few years running from town to town, narrowly escaping the GAU goons. He couldn’t stay in one place for too long, so he started learning the ways of the criminal. He learned how to lie, cheat, and steal from others in order to survive. Eventually he became a Grade A conman/grifter, and was able to make a reliable living from deceiving those who thought themselves untouchable.
Eventually the pressure from the GAU became too much, and Sora was forced to flee the country. He was able to cheat his way onto a smuggler’s air ship, and set forth for Mundin. After many hardships, he finally became a citizen of the island city-state. He can now be seen in multiple of the streets and alleyways of Mundin, cheating other powered people out of their hard earned wages all the while planning his eventual revenge against the GAU.
Specialties:
-Expert at Sleight of Hand
-Highly Proficient at Reading the Body Language and Voice Modulations of others.
-Can fluently speak and read English, Japanese, German, French, and Mandarin.
-Proficient at weapon-based combat
-Highly Knowledgeable of Psychology and the Human Psyche
Equipment:
Sora always carries three things no matter what.
1. His father’s pocket watch
2. A curved dagger
3. A Book (The book will change but he will always have a book)
Other:
He has very deep grudge against the GAU and despises anyone connected to it. |
54,588 | 1,490 | 7 | 719 | 305 | Oh, look, it's the PM!... no, wait, that's just an MP. A jet black suit, a deep maroon tie and a polished shoe on the member was a fine choice of attire indeed, but everyone knew this was not the Prime Minister's style. He had held the position of the city's head of state for the last six long years, and it's already common knowledge that the PM preferred to wear anything pompous and elegant that appeared more to belong to pageants rather than any formal event. Foundation feasts, public speeches, security briefings and even emergency meetings-- you name it, he does it!
The already-impatient officer on duty flinched an eye upon hearing another come in as well. Though there's not really any point getting mad at the Units' favorite vigilante, especially if he came in bringing anything of use. And he had news, it appeared.
"Mon ami, you're just in the nick of time. Bring in your report."
Elsewhere, St. Jeanne's Plaza is still lively as ever, even as the dusk drew near. Much of the news broadcasts for today, displayed all-around at the holo-screens, focused their cameras on the still empty platform that the Prime Minister will hold his speech on while the anchors made their commentaries in the background. And of course, before every commercial break, there's always that unmistakable joyous tune of chimes, followed by Mundin's tourism slogan fading in on a white background and a robotic female voice reading those aloud:
Nothing's ever mundane in Mundin! | Margaret Vergilia
Age: 26
Gender: Female.
Race/Nationality: Irish-born, with Roman lineages. Weak accent.
5'8", 166 lb, slender physique. Heterochromic, with one blue eye and one normally green eye, the latter changing color upon her power's influence. Her very light blonde hair covers that green eye, and shines an almost white color under certain lights. Typically wears in either neutral color schemes, very regal clothing or military uniform.
Personality:
In this world full of sorcerers, heathens, god-maniacs and skeptics, she is perhaps one of the very, very few to worship God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, let alone any god or godly spirit. Even while the Vatican is now all but a tiny institution, Margaret herself remains firmly rooted in her Catholic faith, and still puts much of its devotional principles into practice. As such, Margaret can often be seen contemplating on the mysteries of the Rosary in the morning, suddenly stopping to pray exactly at noon and 6 in the evening, fervently praying when encountered with adversary, and carrying devotional scapulars, prayer leaflets and relics of saints. Her continuous faith can be attributed to an incredible coincidence of her family's deep religious traditions and the holy-like nature of her power, and even her family continues to hide any trace of their newfound irreligion should she contact them.
Consequently enough, this deep devotion has also compelled her to gain some notorious traits of the typical zealous Middle Ages crusader. In particular, Margaret often believes herself to have the right to damn anyone to Hell, and most especially condemns Novodeans, GAUs, and, to much hypocrisy, self-righteous people. Margaret believes the rise of humanity's power as God's test on whoever is virtuous enough to use God's gift wisely and gain right to Heaven, and whoever is wicked enough to use God's gift for nefarious intentions and earn damnation. Among Margaret's list of what constitutes as virtue is the fervency to purge whatever she deems as sin... which would in turn spell quite some trouble in this age.
In general, Margaret is very disdainful to the brash, but kind to the gentle. She, in turn, is gentle-natured most of the time, but thinks highly about herself and can come off as arrogant occasionally. Margaret, though, is willing to rend her abilities, especially the Spirit, in servicing people for the better.
Besides religion, Margaret has actually quite a knack for games both video and board (though not really good with the former), drinking, and dining to the point of gluttony (while surprisingly staying fit). It seems much of her morals are simply quite focused on the issue of superhumanity and is willing to let it be loose, if not totally absent, when it comes to other aspects.
Abilities:
Divinity
A luminous form of magic that comes in three forms, altogether making Margaret angel-like in power. She has named the forms after the aspects of the Holy Trinity:
The Power of the Father - Simply referred to as the Father, the energy of Divinity is conjured into forms able to hurt and kill. The Father can damage anything that lives with extra effectiveness against any creature of a summoned background (except intelligents), but is not capable of doing damage to nonliving things.
The Wisdom of the Son - Simply referred to as the Son. Luminous wings made out of Divinity and capable of flight and highly effective shielding.
The Love of the Holy Spirit - Simply referred to as the Holy Spirit or Spirit. Performs the exact opposite purpose of the Father: to heal. Rends wounds at a very quick rate, but may not be able to resurrect one that has sustained an injury severe enough to deliver quick or instant death.
All three abilities derive from the same energy pool. Should one ability sustain overuse, other abilities may be rendered unusable upon the depletion of Divinity. One can read how exhausted her reserves are by her heterochromic green left eye: increased use reddens it, and turns black as her energies go less and less.
Biography:
Born within the more Catholic confines of Ireland, Margaret was raised by a wealthy family whose faith was rather empty; despite a large collection of religious icons and even relics of saints, most of them simply didn't have the motivation to attend regular Masses nor take any prayer seriously. This was Margaret, too; the girl used not to have a care in anything.
Around 11, however, Margaret suddenly started heading to a life of "sainthood". From a simple fascination with icons and relics, it all then spiraled into full-blown devotion, something so sudden her parents started thinking what the hell has gone wrong.
Cue hell breaking loose.
Concerns grew even deeper. What if Margaret was to become one of those maniacs on the news? Her family had already began packing their bags in case she did prove herself to be one. And when they finally saw her floating around the rooms, bearing wings of light, it was then decided that it was high time they got the hell out of here.
Just as they were about to leave, however, a crazed telekinetic decided it would be fun to join on the rampage, starting with the Vergilias. When they were then cornered and as her father had just sustained a blow to his shoulder with a rock, Margaret raced quickly out of the house, struck the attacker in the face with a beam of light, and fixed his father's shoulder in a snap.
Though some of the rest of the family acquired their powers, Margaret was still best suited to guide her family while they roamed around, before settling on Mundin months later. This proved to be a wise choice; the city-state would later become one of the few remaining safe havens of the world, and for the rest of the years the Vergilias would then live in peace without a care in the world... while Margaret had her own duties to pursue, as a soldier of the Defense Unit and "most importantly, as a soldier of God".
Specialties:
Adept at memorization, and knows the entirety of the Catholic Pastoral Editon Bible, all known Catholic prayers, and the encyclicals of St. John Paul II. Strong-willed and motivated. Fluent in Latin and English.
Equipment:
Regularly keeps with herself scapulars, a Rosary and a Miraculous Medal, along with money, IDs and other necessities.
Has tons of religious icons and relics of saints in her home. Mostly retrieved from her old home, but some new ones are in there as well.
Other:
Margaret is stationed at the long-range defense placements on the coast facing Britain.
Prefers wines, but will still occasionally take beer.
Very much loves steaks. Dislikes fruits, but likes leafy greens. |
54,589 | 1,490 | 8 | 1,270 | 2,337 | Tony was on foot patrol, at a calm thirty miles an hour. He sidestepped through the vehicle traffic easily as he looked in on windows to make sure everyone was wearing their seat-belts or didn't start the party too early. He'd spent the better part of an hour on traffic detail before he got bored and ran to the square to check in for something else to do. When he arrived there was the resident technophile delivering a truckload of upgraded equipment to play with. He saluted his superior as needed and waited for new orders while leaning over to whisper to Janice:
"Anyone ever tell you that you are like a really hot Santa? Delivering toys to the good little boys in blue?"
He stood back to his full attention and waited for the reprimand to talking to a civilian and be given his next assignment. | Name: Tohi Li/Tony Lee
Age: 47/333
Gender: Male
Race/Nationality: Japanese-American, bonded with a summon.
Appearance:
6'6", 210 on a long lean frame. Yes, he has claws.
Personality:
Impulsive, brash, catty. Cocky to the point of overconfident and refusing to admit when he's wrong.
Abilities:
Feline physiology:
Night vision, scent, 30 foot standing jump, superhuman agility and balance
Superhuman speed:
He operates at ten times the speed of a peak athletic human. He can run a mile in 30 seconds giving him a speed of 120MPH. He can act, react, and strike at ten times the speed of other black belts(world record is 347 punches in one minute, assume average 300 for peak martial art athlete, divide by 60 is 5 strikes in one second. He can land 50.)
Demonic endurance:
Between the feline physiology and the decaplexed speed, he can heal wounds in one tenth the time of others and burns through pharmaceuticals almost too quickly to be of any use.
Biography:
Tohi Lee was a good old southern boy from Tennessee, his grandfather had faced the troubles of being an immigrant Japanese after world war two, it didn't get much better after the Korean war or Veitnam war. So he abandoned most of their Asian trappings and even paid for the surgery to widen his families eyes. It was as much an act of shame as it was needed to survive...Then Bruce Lee came out and everyone was all about martial arts, including his son, Tohi's father.
In almost a flip reversal, he tried to turn their Japanese family Chinese instead and started going by Li instead of the family name of Ri (management) which eventually became 'Lee' because of some bad paperwork. But Ri,Li or Lee, they were still Japanese people living in the south, and all that implies. His grandfather and father both taught Tony/Tohi(spruce) how to defend himself and he was enlisted in one of the few Karate studios established back in the 80's While his dad worked as a mechanic to pay the bills. Well you can't work on cars in the south and not be a race fan, it's a rule. So one year he saves up his income tax return and takes the family to see the Indianapolis 500! Instead of Disney world...thanks dad.
Depressed about having to watch cars go in circles, he was caught completely unaware when a superhuman crisis occurred. Someone summoned a demon in the Indy 500, a speed demon.
This cat ran circles around the drivers in their cars and caused massive chaos. Exploding cars, burning fuel, screaming people, and a dying demon caught up in the crash next to a boy who would not make the next minute. They struck a deal of desperation; it would ride in the boy and give him all the powers he possessed. But after 333 years, three mortal lifetimes, the demon would be free again and the boy would go to hell. Or, he could die here, un-confessed, with sins on his soul, and go to hell now.
Hoping to earn enough brownie points in the next three hundred years, he agreed. And as soon as he pulled himself from the wreckage, he got locked up for being mistaken as the speed demon that caused the damage in the first place, technically a half truth. His family was contacted upon discovery of his incarceration by the government of Mundi trying to get a-hold of itself but loosing, they would lift his sentence to community service and time served if he helped them get a hold on their country.
Fifteen years later, he does what he can when he can with special dispensation. He served five years with the defense unit when the world was still completely bat-spit crazy. But after half a decade in the special forces, he decided to dial it back just a little to merely police units so his family would worry less. He is still 'on call' when it hits the fan but otherwise he likes the slower pace of merely armed bank robbery and chasing cars.
Specialties: Martial arts, Military and Police techniques. Speaks French, English and Japanese.
Equipment:
Small apartment, mini fridge sitting under a crouching shower/sink.
No need for a car most of the time. If he does, he can always borrow from the auto pool.
His variation on the police issue baton, when his hands are not enough.
He keeps his standard police gear in the office under lock and key.
These boots multiply his running speed by double since his feline physique is already partially reminiscent of the design in play. Still, 240 on the freeway is nothing to ignore and more maneuverable than a motorcycle,
Other: |
54,590 | 1,490 | 9 | 2,356 | 5,036 | So this was Mundin. Quite a lovely place so far, certainly better maintained than most places Aileen had been since awakening. Sure the borders were not quite as inviting but that isn't surprising. According to the briefing this small country had pulled off early on what many thought impossible. Managing to control and even repel empowered individuals in order to keep the peace. It was admirable that its citizens would come together for its defense. To some extent it meant that beings such as herself were not needed. Though as far as she knew her purpose there was not to fill a defensive need per se.
At the moment Aileen was mixed in with the police force stationed for the 35th anniversary. Though perhaps mixed it isn't quite the correct term. Her bright shining gold armor made her stand out from all the other uniformed officers. She looked like if you'd opened a book from ancient times and pulled out one of the mythological beings and dropped them in the middle of a bunch of "normal" people. Try as they might no one could convince Aileen to don a standard uniform. As others had found it was easier just to let her believe to be whoever and wear whatever she wanted.
Thus far they hadn't really been given much to do. Several of the officers were just standing around and goofing off. The PM was taking his sweet time. This meant very little to Aileen with her eyes darting here and there taking in everything. It would appear that some other people had come up. One was delivering some equipment, another had information of some kind, and the last had arrived at high speed and was decidedly less human. Talking with such a creature did not appeal to her so Aileen stepped off to the side and observed the crowd.
On her way she noticed a man looking rather uneasy. This seemed a little odd to Aileen, wasn't this supposed to be a celebration? Curious she redirected her path and gave Ken a solid pat on the back. Given that she was a whole foot shorter he would be met by the wings on her helmet before anything else. Though to be fair Aileen was shorter than a majority of the MD and MP. "What ails you that you should appear so uneasy? Is this not a joyous occasion for this land 35 years strong?" Her words, though dated, were given in a happy tone. Clearly she did not see need to fear. Though perhaps it was her youth that spurred such optimism. She only looked to be a teenager. | Name: Aileen (Formerly Carol Rorick)
Age: Physically - 17 | Actually - 30 | Believes to be - Thousands of years old
Gender: Female
Race/Nationality: British
Appearance:
5' 2" and 116lbs.
Personality: Extremely proper, archaically so. Her speech and mannerisms harken back to times well before modern times. She has a kind heart and will go out of her way to assist others. For those she befriends she is loyal to a fault and will put herself in harm's way to protect them. She has a strong intolerance toward summoned creatures and will stamp them out almost without a second thought.
All of this is due to mental manipulation and conditioning. In fact Aileen believes herself to be a deity of sorts, and a guardian of humanity. Despite thinking herself "superior" to most others she does not intentionally express it outside stating it. However she may occasionally expect some form of tribute from those she feels are beholden to her and does not like her persona to be challenged. Even so she is first and foremost a protector and tends to be non-combative toward humans and will defend them as intended. Villains of course are the exception as they threaten others, but Aileen is known to be merciful once justice is served.
Due to having an artificial personality she very easily comes off as "lost in time." So despite being from the modern era much of it seems to be new to her. Naive would describe it well, though she is a quick learn. The programming was perhaps not specific enough because she can sometimes go against orders so she can accomplish the prime directive she was given, protect and serve.
Abilities: "Holy Light" - Imbued with the element of light and tinkered through the advances in medical science Aileen has been molded into a weapon to combat the chaos surrounding her country. Much of these aspects reenforce the persona that Aileen now believes herself to be.
Light Absorption - The linchpin of all her abilities. This was present before any modification took place and was one factor that lead her to be selected. This powers everything else and she can store the energy drawn in from light sources indefinitely.Obviously she must replenish her energy via sources of light in order to power all of her abilities. The sun is the best source but others do help to a lesser degree. If kept from sources of light and forced to use all she's stored her powers are effectively null.
Hard Light Constructs - The other aspect of her abilities that lead her to be selected. Aileen can create solid and realistic constructs from light provided she has energy left to do so. The more energy applied to a construct the stronger it is. The shape and appearance are limited by the imagination. Her armor is a good example and by manipulating it she is able to lift herself off the ground as a form of flight.With enough force the constructs can be broken and the light used to create them is lost. At this point the upper limit of strength and resilience appears to be that of steel and no larger than a small bus. The larger the object the more light needed to produce it. These can also not be created or manipulated further than three yards away.
Light Projection - Able to release wide or concentrated light in order to illuminate, blind, or even burn things.The least efficient use of energy. Illuminating things is not that bad but the brighter the more energy. Burning things with concentrated light takes quite a bit more than just focused light, but also amplifies. As such she tends to avoid its use if possible.
Regeneration - Since the early stages of modification her aging process has all but stopped. As such she has retained the physique of her 17 year old self despite over a decade passing. Obviously her body able to keep pace with decaying cells means that she heals from injuries fairly rapidly.It is speculated that if she were isolated from light sources and expends her energy reserves that she would continue aging normally. It should also be noted that while she can regenerate she is not invulnerable by any means. She has all the normal physical capabilities and weaknesses of a late teen. The only benefit is survivability from the injuries.
Biography: Born one Carol Rorick in Wadhurst, England fifteen years before chaos consumed the world. Growing up Carol's life was fairly simple. Where she lived was not that far from London, a little less than an hours drive. With a population of less than 6,000 the area that Carol grew up was not a big bustling metropolis. Of course a market town has the advantage of being quieter, or at least that was what everyone assumed.
Being a dreamer and avid reader Carol developed a liking for history. A broad subject to be sure but one study in particular piqued her interest, the study of mythology. Not that she would make a career out of it, but the stories and beliefs that people created throughout the ages was fascinating.
Sadly the bright future of academia ended for the 15 year old girl as it did with so many others when the metahumans and arcane arts became a reality. Unsurprisingly London was one of the first to be hit hard, being the capital. The ensuing war zone it caused forced many out and quickly spread to the small town. Woefully unprepared many lost their lives. Unable to escape the oncoming Carol's family was caught in the fight and lost. Those that attacked though were in over their head though. Wracked with grief Carol lashed out in a sudden burst of power that sent spikes of hard light running through everyone unfortunate enough to be nearby. The newfound power tipped an already emotionally unstable girl over the edge. Effectively losing her mind she began to roam around killing indiscriminately.
Not a year passed and the initial turmoil that consumed the country was finally beginning to be reigned in. London survived, albeit in shambles, but the governmental body began to take charge again. A new project was started to capture rogue elements and either recruit them or eliminate them. Due to changed nature of the world many of the previous lines that were not crossed were now open. Many were caught and brought back to be "rehabilitated," Carol among them. Of course the girl proved to be a difficult one. She didn't communicate, liked no one, and constantly made her best attempt the harm people. However she possessed the ability to harness light in ways that science wished it had figured out. A solar powered being meant little resources needed to sustain her. Plus she was in a moldable state and no one would call them out.
So began the process of altering Carol's mind. Conventional means were only so effective. While she was not as hostile she was still relatively unresponsive. So the use of a telepath was employed to make the necessary changes. At first they attempted to turn her into a soldier. This only worked as far as training but the loyal persona they tried to force did not stick and she began to backslide. Digging deeper the favoring of mythological legend was found. A shot in the dark they began the tedious process of giving Carol a new identity as a goddess. As preposterous as it sounded the girl's shattered mind took to it and Aileen was born. Finally making headway after two years they had gained control of yet another metahuman.
With descent more or less squelched several other procedures were performed to improve Aileen's abilities and increase her survivability. After all losing an asset after so much work would be a terrible waste. The resulting regenerative capabilities worked perhaps too well as it halted the aging process before her peak physical strength are could be reached. Still it was a success by all accounts except for one thing. She was programmed to protect and serve, a default that on occasion conflicted with orders. However for the most part she is obedient. This is why, much like William, she was sent in goodwill to improve relations with Mundin.
Specialties:
Military training - A latent set of knowledge implanted when first being made into a soldier. She only seems to recall this in stressful situations.
Historical knowledge - From her past studies, Aileen remembers information about many places and time periods. It is the one thing of Carol that appears to remain. But it would not be unusual for Aileen to refer to such past events as if she had been there.
Equipment: Her armor itself is a product of her hard light construct ability and is almost ever present. Beneath the armor she wears a white sports crop top and short shorts. It is less an aesthetic choice and more of a practical one to get as much exposure to light as possible while still being decent. She seems rather oblivious to how she appears outside of her armor.
Beyond that she keeps her government issued ID on her at all times and usually a little cash should she need it.
Other: Aileen has not aged for 13 years. So for anyone who has met her within this period would recognize they she hasn't changed a day.
I will also fill out more of who she believes she is as time goes on in IC. Because where's the fun in just telling you all that? |
54,591 | 1,490 | 10 | 1,936 | 1,025 | Ken Black
Ken was unprepared for what he assumed was some other officer to pat him on the back, he especially didn't expect one the officer to be what looked like a high school girl. He looked around, half expecting some mother to call the girl back, but no, she apparently belonged here, to his surprise. The more pressing issue was that he was letting his anxiety show to the point of it was obvious that he was distressed. I can't be showing my fear so much as an officer. I'm supposed to inspire a feeling of safety in people, not look like some scared little kid... He thought to himself, disappointed.
Ken then quickly remembered she asked him a question. "It's joyous indeed... As for why I'm uneasy, I'm just worried thay something could happen to the prime minister, and also wondering why I was assigned here. I'm sure tons of his guards have amazing abilities. I'm just able to get up after being hit really hard, I couldn't do very much if some crazy person came here..." Ken replied, trailing off worriedly. He felt ridiculous the more he spoke. Was there a point in being worried with so many people here to protect the prime minister? Here was some girl who isn't even fazed, yet he was being such a worry wart. He needed to really stop being such a wuss. | NAME
Gilbert "Hal" Halloran
AGE
18
GENDER
Male
RACE/NATIONALITY
Human - half-Asian, half-Irish - U.S. American
APPEARANCE
Also wears glasses.
PERSONALITY
Intuition would very likely make itself Gilbert Halloran's closest ally - or his greatest adversary. As impressions have it, the average stranger falls into either of two trappings with Mr. Halloran: either that he is an unassuming, reserved introvert, or that he is an unabashed, outgoing spirit. From birth until now, Gilbert has entertained the joy of overcoming challenge, with each problem a welcome obstacle — an opportunity, if you will, for growth — and he has taken pliancy as his tool for change. Whether a battle of wit, a clash of opinion, or a scuffle of friends, Gilbert is ready for whatever life will set before him. His mind is a flowing sea of information, and it breathes in shallow gasps of new knowledge, new thoughts, new feelings, and new experiences. He is highly resistant against the influential tide of the establishment, of the authorities that be, and of the majority and thus will not be weakly swayed, but he is also somewhat skeptical of those who nonsensically criticize the government or who denigrate it for all the wrong reasons.
Without mistake, although Gilbert might present the brains of a strong academic and flaunt an unyielding but mutable character, deep inside the boy is compassionate and sensitive to even the most subtle of social ticks. Some would say that Gilbert simply understands the deepest feelings. He is very good at communicating his feelings, and with the proper crowd, he can hold a large influence on the thinking of the group. No doubt a born leader, his adaptability and skills with people may make him an unrivaled power in any sort of social court. Gilbert's vibrant energy radiates a furnace's warmth, but like the winter, it can turn bitterly cold if it is not tended to. His last strength is his ability to unflinchingly let go of people and of feelings, a leaf to the wind.
Mr. Halloran is not without fault, however much he might seem an innocuous creature. He is caught by petty thoughts almost regularly, and in his darkest hours, he can barely control his temper or his depressive moods. Gilbert is no stranger to time alone from whomever he enthralls himself with at any moment, and with those he loves, he may struggle by expressing his feelings too strongly or too early, especially if he misjudges another person's interest. Although Gilbert eventually notices every tick of his friends and family, he may take far too long to recognize the pain in another person, and he cannot reasonably be expected to see the harm he does to others before it is inflicted. When confronted with a different worldview, he is typically open, but if he feels even the slightest bit offended by some tinge of disrespect, he will quickly evade the reproach of his opponent. This leaves Gilbert with constant insecurities: that he is not wise or intelligent enough, that he is not as kind or as thoughtful as he would like to be, and that he is not as charming or as good-looking as he wishes to be.
ABILITIES
Gilbert has always presented a subtle aptitude for something which could be akin to magic. It is unclear what extent this ability is capable of; however, it can be inferred that it may be trained or tempered to do many new things, as is the case with other potential magicians. Of course, these abilities do not yet rival that of the greatest so-called 'sorcerers' of the day. For now, he can lower the temperature of and move any fluid, gas or liquid, but lighter fluids are much easier. He can also create a spark or a small light, both by snapping his fingers deliberately, and he can also telekinetically pull his clothes to himself from the closet, which is a very fun way to get ready for the day. Currently, extreme emotions of anger or sadness can trigger disturbances in his environment, similar to poltergeists.
BIOGRAPHY
A burning home. The sound of sirens. These were the images of Gilbert's lost past. He remembered little of that day and that age, and he had no recollection of any other family besides his parents. He knew he had grandparents, and he had pictures of them, but what became of them was a mystery. What he did remember was that his parents fled the United States for the safety of Mundin, perhaps out of nativist pressures against his mother, perhaps for other reasons, and it was in Mundin where he made his life since he was two-years-old. He had a relatively uninteresting youth, and he was put through the same strict disciplinary education that all the others had gone through. He had an ugly early education; his promising mind was subject to much pressure from the students for his difference, from his parents for his procrastination, and from the teachers for his insubordination. Nonetheless, he came to perform relatively well in his schooling, enough to land him in a good university in Mundin where he could further his pursuits.
SPECIALTIES
- Reading, writing, and speech skills
- Social ability
- Mathematical talent
- Complaining on social media
- Keeping up with current events and politics
- Gaming and art
- English, French, and German
EQUIPMENT
- Glasses (obviously)
- His wallet and his keys
- His watch, a graduation gift from his mother
- A university ID and his valid ID card for Mundin
- His phone
- His leather messenger bag, with appropriate technology for school and often paper and pens |
54,592 | 1,490 | 11 | 2,356 | 5,036 | Aileen
Hearing out the concern she glanced out over the crowd for a while, contemplating Ken's words. There certainly was a chance that someone could attack. Though she was not entirely sure how wise such a thing would be. With so many ready to defend such an action would be quite an undertaking. Having run through it several times she turned back with a slight smile. "If fate sees it fit to give us battle then so be it. We will repel the threat." She confidence was pretty firm. By now it was beginning to become clear that her accent hailed from Britain, though she didn't quite talk like she was. Likely she was assigned to the Mundin Police Unit and they decided to station her here for the event.
As to putting himself down, Aileen shook her head. "Surely neither of us would be here if they did not think us capable. Look now, there are some that have no extraordinary abilities to speak of. Yet they still serve. Come now, let's not dwell on such things. Tell me, what is your name?" She gave him another solid pat on the back and awaited a proper introduction. Perhaps she should be starting but for whatever reason she did not see the need just yet. | Name: Aileen (Formerly Carol Rorick)
Age: Physically - 17 | Actually - 30 | Believes to be - Thousands of years old
Gender: Female
Race/Nationality: British
Appearance:
5' 2" and 116lbs.
Personality: Extremely proper, archaically so. Her speech and mannerisms harken back to times well before modern times. She has a kind heart and will go out of her way to assist others. For those she befriends she is loyal to a fault and will put herself in harm's way to protect them. She has a strong intolerance toward summoned creatures and will stamp them out almost without a second thought.
All of this is due to mental manipulation and conditioning. In fact Aileen believes herself to be a deity of sorts, and a guardian of humanity. Despite thinking herself "superior" to most others she does not intentionally express it outside stating it. However she may occasionally expect some form of tribute from those she feels are beholden to her and does not like her persona to be challenged. Even so she is first and foremost a protector and tends to be non-combative toward humans and will defend them as intended. Villains of course are the exception as they threaten others, but Aileen is known to be merciful once justice is served.
Due to having an artificial personality she very easily comes off as "lost in time." So despite being from the modern era much of it seems to be new to her. Naive would describe it well, though she is a quick learn. The programming was perhaps not specific enough because she can sometimes go against orders so she can accomplish the prime directive she was given, protect and serve.
Abilities: "Holy Light" - Imbued with the element of light and tinkered through the advances in medical science Aileen has been molded into a weapon to combat the chaos surrounding her country. Much of these aspects reenforce the persona that Aileen now believes herself to be.
Light Absorption - The linchpin of all her abilities. This was present before any modification took place and was one factor that lead her to be selected. This powers everything else and she can store the energy drawn in from light sources indefinitely.Obviously she must replenish her energy via sources of light in order to power all of her abilities. The sun is the best source but others do help to a lesser degree. If kept from sources of light and forced to use all she's stored her powers are effectively null.
Hard Light Constructs - The other aspect of her abilities that lead her to be selected. Aileen can create solid and realistic constructs from light provided she has energy left to do so. The more energy applied to a construct the stronger it is. The shape and appearance are limited by the imagination. Her armor is a good example and by manipulating it she is able to lift herself off the ground as a form of flight.With enough force the constructs can be broken and the light used to create them is lost. At this point the upper limit of strength and resilience appears to be that of steel and no larger than a small bus. The larger the object the more light needed to produce it. These can also not be created or manipulated further than three yards away.
Light Projection - Able to release wide or concentrated light in order to illuminate, blind, or even burn things.The least efficient use of energy. Illuminating things is not that bad but the brighter the more energy. Burning things with concentrated light takes quite a bit more than just focused light, but also amplifies. As such she tends to avoid its use if possible.
Regeneration - Since the early stages of modification her aging process has all but stopped. As such she has retained the physique of her 17 year old self despite over a decade passing. Obviously her body able to keep pace with decaying cells means that she heals from injuries fairly rapidly.It is speculated that if she were isolated from light sources and expends her energy reserves that she would continue aging normally. It should also be noted that while she can regenerate she is not invulnerable by any means. She has all the normal physical capabilities and weaknesses of a late teen. The only benefit is survivability from the injuries.
Biography: Born one Carol Rorick in Wadhurst, England fifteen years before chaos consumed the world. Growing up Carol's life was fairly simple. Where she lived was not that far from London, a little less than an hours drive. With a population of less than 6,000 the area that Carol grew up was not a big bustling metropolis. Of course a market town has the advantage of being quieter, or at least that was what everyone assumed.
Being a dreamer and avid reader Carol developed a liking for history. A broad subject to be sure but one study in particular piqued her interest, the study of mythology. Not that she would make a career out of it, but the stories and beliefs that people created throughout the ages was fascinating.
Sadly the bright future of academia ended for the 15 year old girl as it did with so many others when the metahumans and arcane arts became a reality. Unsurprisingly London was one of the first to be hit hard, being the capital. The ensuing war zone it caused forced many out and quickly spread to the small town. Woefully unprepared many lost their lives. Unable to escape the oncoming Carol's family was caught in the fight and lost. Those that attacked though were in over their head though. Wracked with grief Carol lashed out in a sudden burst of power that sent spikes of hard light running through everyone unfortunate enough to be nearby. The newfound power tipped an already emotionally unstable girl over the edge. Effectively losing her mind she began to roam around killing indiscriminately.
Not a year passed and the initial turmoil that consumed the country was finally beginning to be reigned in. London survived, albeit in shambles, but the governmental body began to take charge again. A new project was started to capture rogue elements and either recruit them or eliminate them. Due to changed nature of the world many of the previous lines that were not crossed were now open. Many were caught and brought back to be "rehabilitated," Carol among them. Of course the girl proved to be a difficult one. She didn't communicate, liked no one, and constantly made her best attempt the harm people. However she possessed the ability to harness light in ways that science wished it had figured out. A solar powered being meant little resources needed to sustain her. Plus she was in a moldable state and no one would call them out.
So began the process of altering Carol's mind. Conventional means were only so effective. While she was not as hostile she was still relatively unresponsive. So the use of a telepath was employed to make the necessary changes. At first they attempted to turn her into a soldier. This only worked as far as training but the loyal persona they tried to force did not stick and she began to backslide. Digging deeper the favoring of mythological legend was found. A shot in the dark they began the tedious process of giving Carol a new identity as a goddess. As preposterous as it sounded the girl's shattered mind took to it and Aileen was born. Finally making headway after two years they had gained control of yet another metahuman.
With descent more or less squelched several other procedures were performed to improve Aileen's abilities and increase her survivability. After all losing an asset after so much work would be a terrible waste. The resulting regenerative capabilities worked perhaps too well as it halted the aging process before her peak physical strength are could be reached. Still it was a success by all accounts except for one thing. She was programmed to protect and serve, a default that on occasion conflicted with orders. However for the most part she is obedient. This is why, much like William, she was sent in goodwill to improve relations with Mundin.
Specialties:
Military training - A latent set of knowledge implanted when first being made into a soldier. She only seems to recall this in stressful situations.
Historical knowledge - From her past studies, Aileen remembers information about many places and time periods. It is the one thing of Carol that appears to remain. But it would not be unusual for Aileen to refer to such past events as if she had been there.
Equipment: Her armor itself is a product of her hard light construct ability and is almost ever present. Beneath the armor she wears a white sports crop top and short shorts. It is less an aesthetic choice and more of a practical one to get as much exposure to light as possible while still being decent. She seems rather oblivious to how she appears outside of her armor.
Beyond that she keeps her government issued ID on her at all times and usually a little cash should she need it.
Other: Aileen has not aged for 13 years. So for anyone who has met her within this period would recognize they she hasn't changed a day.
I will also fill out more of who she believes she is as time goes on in IC. Because where's the fun in just telling you all that? |
54,593 | 1,490 | 12 | 707 | 519 | The restaurant was a quiet, rather small Italian place, and was quite hard to miss in the crowd of people. Despite the vast number of visitors, the restaurant was nearly entirely deserted, save for a few people here and there. The transaction with the woman behind the counter was disappointing, as she could barely speak a word of English. This led to Kurt's usually weak attempt at flirting to fail even more than usual. A sigh and several minutes later, a large plate stacked with so much pasta, bread, and garlic that it could give someone a heart attack just by looking at it arrived at his table. A tense minute passed by, before Kurt grabbed his fork and ran it through the heaping pile of pasta.
Or, he was about to, until the message "Nothing's ever mundane in Mundin!" echoed throughout the plaza.
Kurt was well aware of the infamous motto. Every single day, he heard the same repeated, cliched message, usually more than once. It followed nearly every address to the public, and it was always there whenever there was an event. Kurt's instinctual rolling of his eyes at this message was overridden by the realization that the celebration was about to begin. Quickly putting his food into a container, he threw money to the waitress and made his way to the square.
Kurt shoved his way through the throng of people, after realizing that it was much more effective than waiting for people to move out of the way. He drew very close tho the stage, to the point he was close enough to smell the same cologne that made the prime minister infamous. Hoping to see one of his squad mates or, hopefully, Ken Black, Kurt donned his famous shit-eating grin and waited for the speech. Beside him stood a man in glasses with a short hair cut and facial hair, wearing very nice glasses. Kurt made sure to keep his eyes peeled for anyone he knew.
A light chill passed down his spine, despite the relative mildness of the weather. Kurt gently fingered the combat knife he kept sheathed at his side at all times, before moving his hand away. There was no telling what would happen if people realized he brought a weapon here. Then again, considering the fact that some people could literally shoot knives out of their hands, maybe it wasn't so bad to have a weapon. | Posting a Wip CS, I will probably finish later todayName: William Reeves
Age: 18
Gender:Male
Race/Nationality: British
Personality: William has always been a quiet kid, obeying
William can transform at will into a demonic creature with 8 shields in the shape of coffins appearing on his back. The transformation gives a boost on his strength, speed and durability; making him capable of leaping tall buildings with ease, his shields are durable enough that anything short of hunting rifles and more powerful weapons will only scratch them and his speed goes up to a limit of 100 mph but he can barely recognize his surroundings at that point which makes it difficult for him to move.
The shields he has are all connected by one chain that is bolted on his two shoulders, which William can use to control his shields with the disadvantage that the shields can be cumbersome and difficult to control at times. The shields have a range of 4 meters before the chain meets its limit.
Biography: Born in rural England William's life didn't change much on the first months after the event happened but as time passed living became harder on his village. The influx of refugees from the main cities of England to rural places had attracted powered individuals to the area, some of which left their cursed monsters to roam the land, changing the local environment drastically. With the whole world in chaos the citizens over the region realized that no army was going to save them and that they would have to fight back with their own powers. In William's village gifted people with offensive powers would be the ones who would deal with summons and hostile gifted in their area with some non offensive gifted as backup. The ones that had more defensive or support powers were either supporting the offensive gifted or put to work in the fields with other normal people. Each gifted was drilled on his head three things: To never use his powers for personal benefit, to protect the defenseless and to obey their superiors. The end result would be a group of highly obedient powered individuals ready to serve the people. William would join them at 13 years old once his powers awakened and was placed on the offensive types where his job consisted on patrolling the village in search of hostile summons and the occasional gifted that wanted to burn it all to the ground. After sometime once Britain had reached a sense of stability
Specialties: Any other talent besides being able to bend a spoon with your own mind belongs here.
Equipment: Blade:
Other: Anything else that doesn't fit above. |
54,594 | 1,490 | 13 | 719 | 305 | Margaret was a little unsettled with the sudden turnout of odd people, but this was to be expected when heavy security was in great demand. Nevertheless, the meek-faced girl remained at her seat and all quiet, yet to think of what to do, and still contemplating about everyone here. And yet, one big question remains: how long until the PM shows himself....?
Now, actually.
From the grand, mahogany doors of the ever-grand Parliament building came the Prime Minister, bursting in white. On him was his brilliantly white dyed pompadour, gracing his youthful face that kept his 46 years of age well hidden. He wore an extravagant white Victorian coat, intricately decorated with gold, and underneath it a white cravat with a golden sparrow emblem pinned. There on his shoulders lay a brilliantly silver feather boa. He doesn't really much look like a government man, to say, but more of a participant to some grand fashion pageant. And like one, no celebrity entrance is complete without a crowd of paparazzi to boot, their blinding flashes of their cameras reflecting off the PM's extravagant wear.
The officer on duty at once ordered all soldiers and policemen to stand in formation, and to ready themselves either for guard duty or for a military showoff. Margaret was among the first to scramble to her place. Meanwhile, on the other end of the street across the Parliament Building, news outlets have begun sounding out the joyous announcements of his grand entrance to the plaza, and begin preparing for his parade through the street.
Though something seems... off. Someone observant enough could see some sort of concern and distress in the minister's face, but no mind reader could even see what ails him; he had resistance, to say. | Margaret Vergilia
Age: 26
Gender: Female.
Race/Nationality: Irish-born, with Roman lineages. Weak accent.
5'8", 166 lb, slender physique. Heterochromic, with one blue eye and one normally green eye, the latter changing color upon her power's influence. Her very light blonde hair covers that green eye, and shines an almost white color under certain lights. Typically wears in either neutral color schemes, very regal clothing or military uniform.
Personality:
In this world full of sorcerers, heathens, god-maniacs and skeptics, she is perhaps one of the very, very few to worship God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, let alone any god or godly spirit. Even while the Vatican is now all but a tiny institution, Margaret herself remains firmly rooted in her Catholic faith, and still puts much of its devotional principles into practice. As such, Margaret can often be seen contemplating on the mysteries of the Rosary in the morning, suddenly stopping to pray exactly at noon and 6 in the evening, fervently praying when encountered with adversary, and carrying devotional scapulars, prayer leaflets and relics of saints. Her continuous faith can be attributed to an incredible coincidence of her family's deep religious traditions and the holy-like nature of her power, and even her family continues to hide any trace of their newfound irreligion should she contact them.
Consequently enough, this deep devotion has also compelled her to gain some notorious traits of the typical zealous Middle Ages crusader. In particular, Margaret often believes herself to have the right to damn anyone to Hell, and most especially condemns Novodeans, GAUs, and, to much hypocrisy, self-righteous people. Margaret believes the rise of humanity's power as God's test on whoever is virtuous enough to use God's gift wisely and gain right to Heaven, and whoever is wicked enough to use God's gift for nefarious intentions and earn damnation. Among Margaret's list of what constitutes as virtue is the fervency to purge whatever she deems as sin... which would in turn spell quite some trouble in this age.
In general, Margaret is very disdainful to the brash, but kind to the gentle. She, in turn, is gentle-natured most of the time, but thinks highly about herself and can come off as arrogant occasionally. Margaret, though, is willing to rend her abilities, especially the Spirit, in servicing people for the better.
Besides religion, Margaret has actually quite a knack for games both video and board (though not really good with the former), drinking, and dining to the point of gluttony (while surprisingly staying fit). It seems much of her morals are simply quite focused on the issue of superhumanity and is willing to let it be loose, if not totally absent, when it comes to other aspects.
Abilities:
Divinity
A luminous form of magic that comes in three forms, altogether making Margaret angel-like in power. She has named the forms after the aspects of the Holy Trinity:
The Power of the Father - Simply referred to as the Father, the energy of Divinity is conjured into forms able to hurt and kill. The Father can damage anything that lives with extra effectiveness against any creature of a summoned background (except intelligents), but is not capable of doing damage to nonliving things.
The Wisdom of the Son - Simply referred to as the Son. Luminous wings made out of Divinity and capable of flight and highly effective shielding.
The Love of the Holy Spirit - Simply referred to as the Holy Spirit or Spirit. Performs the exact opposite purpose of the Father: to heal. Rends wounds at a very quick rate, but may not be able to resurrect one that has sustained an injury severe enough to deliver quick or instant death.
All three abilities derive from the same energy pool. Should one ability sustain overuse, other abilities may be rendered unusable upon the depletion of Divinity. One can read how exhausted her reserves are by her heterochromic green left eye: increased use reddens it, and turns black as her energies go less and less.
Biography:
Born within the more Catholic confines of Ireland, Margaret was raised by a wealthy family whose faith was rather empty; despite a large collection of religious icons and even relics of saints, most of them simply didn't have the motivation to attend regular Masses nor take any prayer seriously. This was Margaret, too; the girl used not to have a care in anything.
Around 11, however, Margaret suddenly started heading to a life of "sainthood". From a simple fascination with icons and relics, it all then spiraled into full-blown devotion, something so sudden her parents started thinking what the hell has gone wrong.
Cue hell breaking loose.
Concerns grew even deeper. What if Margaret was to become one of those maniacs on the news? Her family had already began packing their bags in case she did prove herself to be one. And when they finally saw her floating around the rooms, bearing wings of light, it was then decided that it was high time they got the hell out of here.
Just as they were about to leave, however, a crazed telekinetic decided it would be fun to join on the rampage, starting with the Vergilias. When they were then cornered and as her father had just sustained a blow to his shoulder with a rock, Margaret raced quickly out of the house, struck the attacker in the face with a beam of light, and fixed his father's shoulder in a snap.
Though some of the rest of the family acquired their powers, Margaret was still best suited to guide her family while they roamed around, before settling on Mundin months later. This proved to be a wise choice; the city-state would later become one of the few remaining safe havens of the world, and for the rest of the years the Vergilias would then live in peace without a care in the world... while Margaret had her own duties to pursue, as a soldier of the Defense Unit and "most importantly, as a soldier of God".
Specialties:
Adept at memorization, and knows the entirety of the Catholic Pastoral Editon Bible, all known Catholic prayers, and the encyclicals of St. John Paul II. Strong-willed and motivated. Fluent in Latin and English.
Equipment:
Regularly keeps with herself scapulars, a Rosary and a Miraculous Medal, along with money, IDs and other necessities.
Has tons of religious icons and relics of saints in her home. Mostly retrieved from her old home, but some new ones are in there as well.
Other:
Margaret is stationed at the long-range defense placements on the coast facing Britain.
Prefers wines, but will still occasionally take beer.
Very much loves steaks. Dislikes fruits, but likes leafy greens. |
54,595 | 1,490 | 14 | 2,356 | 5,036 | Elliot had kept himself entertained while waitig for the PM, one hand absent mindedly playing with a fidget cube while the other never strayed far from his side arm. The fidget cube was a tiny little thing, as wide as his nail and just as tall, his fingers danced over its edges as he fiddled with it. He noticed a few officers he recognised, shooting a wink or a smile towards anyone who saw him, but he stayed at his post, he was still on duty after all. Today was a casual celebration and the sheer amount of police here assured that any trouble wouldn't be much trouble, and it was that reoaxed attitude that led to Elliot zoning out, almost missing the Prince Minister's appearance. Though in such flamboyant and no doubt expensive clothing he looked more like a fashion model than a Politician. Elliots eye brows furrowed and he kissed his teeth, disapprovingly, remembering why he hadnt voted for this man. To Elliot it just felt as if the man didn't take himself seriously as a politician, his flair for the dramatic was starting to lose its charm.
Elliot snapped back to attention as the officer on duty called for everyone to stand in formation and the scene following of so many police either moving positions or standing up straight was so well rehearsed it looked like it had come from a play. Elliot rushed to his position underneath and slightly to the left of the balcony the PM was currently on. If he craned his head and squinted he just about make out the PMs form. The five men Elliot was currently with pulled automatic rifles from a duffel bag, Elliot taking the last one. They nodded to each other in silent acknowledgement and took up their positions. Elliot let out a raggedy breath to calm himself, and looked out into the crowd. | Name: Aileen (Formerly Carol Rorick)
Age: Physically - 17 | Actually - 30 | Believes to be - Thousands of years old
Gender: Female
Race/Nationality: British
Appearance:
5' 2" and 116lbs.
Personality: Extremely proper, archaically so. Her speech and mannerisms harken back to times well before modern times. She has a kind heart and will go out of her way to assist others. For those she befriends she is loyal to a fault and will put herself in harm's way to protect them. She has a strong intolerance toward summoned creatures and will stamp them out almost without a second thought.
All of this is due to mental manipulation and conditioning. In fact Aileen believes herself to be a deity of sorts, and a guardian of humanity. Despite thinking herself "superior" to most others she does not intentionally express it outside stating it. However she may occasionally expect some form of tribute from those she feels are beholden to her and does not like her persona to be challenged. Even so she is first and foremost a protector and tends to be non-combative toward humans and will defend them as intended. Villains of course are the exception as they threaten others, but Aileen is known to be merciful once justice is served.
Due to having an artificial personality she very easily comes off as "lost in time." So despite being from the modern era much of it seems to be new to her. Naive would describe it well, though she is a quick learn. The programming was perhaps not specific enough because she can sometimes go against orders so she can accomplish the prime directive she was given, protect and serve.
Abilities: "Holy Light" - Imbued with the element of light and tinkered through the advances in medical science Aileen has been molded into a weapon to combat the chaos surrounding her country. Much of these aspects reenforce the persona that Aileen now believes herself to be.
Light Absorption - The linchpin of all her abilities. This was present before any modification took place and was one factor that lead her to be selected. This powers everything else and she can store the energy drawn in from light sources indefinitely.Obviously she must replenish her energy via sources of light in order to power all of her abilities. The sun is the best source but others do help to a lesser degree. If kept from sources of light and forced to use all she's stored her powers are effectively null.
Hard Light Constructs - The other aspect of her abilities that lead her to be selected. Aileen can create solid and realistic constructs from light provided she has energy left to do so. The more energy applied to a construct the stronger it is. The shape and appearance are limited by the imagination. Her armor is a good example and by manipulating it she is able to lift herself off the ground as a form of flight.With enough force the constructs can be broken and the light used to create them is lost. At this point the upper limit of strength and resilience appears to be that of steel and no larger than a small bus. The larger the object the more light needed to produce it. These can also not be created or manipulated further than three yards away.
Light Projection - Able to release wide or concentrated light in order to illuminate, blind, or even burn things.The least efficient use of energy. Illuminating things is not that bad but the brighter the more energy. Burning things with concentrated light takes quite a bit more than just focused light, but also amplifies. As such she tends to avoid its use if possible.
Regeneration - Since the early stages of modification her aging process has all but stopped. As such she has retained the physique of her 17 year old self despite over a decade passing. Obviously her body able to keep pace with decaying cells means that she heals from injuries fairly rapidly.It is speculated that if she were isolated from light sources and expends her energy reserves that she would continue aging normally. It should also be noted that while she can regenerate she is not invulnerable by any means. She has all the normal physical capabilities and weaknesses of a late teen. The only benefit is survivability from the injuries.
Biography: Born one Carol Rorick in Wadhurst, England fifteen years before chaos consumed the world. Growing up Carol's life was fairly simple. Where she lived was not that far from London, a little less than an hours drive. With a population of less than 6,000 the area that Carol grew up was not a big bustling metropolis. Of course a market town has the advantage of being quieter, or at least that was what everyone assumed.
Being a dreamer and avid reader Carol developed a liking for history. A broad subject to be sure but one study in particular piqued her interest, the study of mythology. Not that she would make a career out of it, but the stories and beliefs that people created throughout the ages was fascinating.
Sadly the bright future of academia ended for the 15 year old girl as it did with so many others when the metahumans and arcane arts became a reality. Unsurprisingly London was one of the first to be hit hard, being the capital. The ensuing war zone it caused forced many out and quickly spread to the small town. Woefully unprepared many lost their lives. Unable to escape the oncoming Carol's family was caught in the fight and lost. Those that attacked though were in over their head though. Wracked with grief Carol lashed out in a sudden burst of power that sent spikes of hard light running through everyone unfortunate enough to be nearby. The newfound power tipped an already emotionally unstable girl over the edge. Effectively losing her mind she began to roam around killing indiscriminately.
Not a year passed and the initial turmoil that consumed the country was finally beginning to be reigned in. London survived, albeit in shambles, but the governmental body began to take charge again. A new project was started to capture rogue elements and either recruit them or eliminate them. Due to changed nature of the world many of the previous lines that were not crossed were now open. Many were caught and brought back to be "rehabilitated," Carol among them. Of course the girl proved to be a difficult one. She didn't communicate, liked no one, and constantly made her best attempt the harm people. However she possessed the ability to harness light in ways that science wished it had figured out. A solar powered being meant little resources needed to sustain her. Plus she was in a moldable state and no one would call them out.
So began the process of altering Carol's mind. Conventional means were only so effective. While she was not as hostile she was still relatively unresponsive. So the use of a telepath was employed to make the necessary changes. At first they attempted to turn her into a soldier. This only worked as far as training but the loyal persona they tried to force did not stick and she began to backslide. Digging deeper the favoring of mythological legend was found. A shot in the dark they began the tedious process of giving Carol a new identity as a goddess. As preposterous as it sounded the girl's shattered mind took to it and Aileen was born. Finally making headway after two years they had gained control of yet another metahuman.
With descent more or less squelched several other procedures were performed to improve Aileen's abilities and increase her survivability. After all losing an asset after so much work would be a terrible waste. The resulting regenerative capabilities worked perhaps too well as it halted the aging process before her peak physical strength are could be reached. Still it was a success by all accounts except for one thing. She was programmed to protect and serve, a default that on occasion conflicted with orders. However for the most part she is obedient. This is why, much like William, she was sent in goodwill to improve relations with Mundin.
Specialties:
Military training - A latent set of knowledge implanted when first being made into a soldier. She only seems to recall this in stressful situations.
Historical knowledge - From her past studies, Aileen remembers information about many places and time periods. It is the one thing of Carol that appears to remain. But it would not be unusual for Aileen to refer to such past events as if she had been there.
Equipment: Her armor itself is a product of her hard light construct ability and is almost ever present. Beneath the armor she wears a white sports crop top and short shorts. It is less an aesthetic choice and more of a practical one to get as much exposure to light as possible while still being decent. She seems rather oblivious to how she appears outside of her armor.
Beyond that she keeps her government issued ID on her at all times and usually a little cash should she need it.
Other: Aileen has not aged for 13 years. So for anyone who has met her within this period would recognize they she hasn't changed a day.
I will also fill out more of who she believes she is as time goes on in IC. Because where's the fun in just telling you all that? |
54,596 | 1,490 | 15 | 2,356 | 5,036 | Aileen
She was about to answer when the event finally was getting underway. In short order everyone began to scramble to their positions. All the soldiers and officers were moving to their post and going on alert. The press was scurrying to start taking pictures and capture every moment, big or small. Aileen herself headed to her post, not that far from where the PM was. Why exactly she got placed there could be any number of reasons. Maybe it was a courtesy or gesture because of where she's from. Or perhaps because she was dressed rather eccentrically as well it seemed appropriate. Whatever the reason she stood at attention once she made her way into place.
Given her stance she didn't get a good look at the PM's demeanor. At the moment her attention was more focused on the crowd, officers, buildings, and the sky. In the age of superpowered humans things can come from anywhere. Unsurprisingly the air was abuzz with media drones trying to capture the best shot. Of course they had to keep a minimum distance.
It was about now that Aileen was beginning to wish she'd been better briefed about those she was working with. While they must be capable there was no way of knowing what they were capable of. As such the only real thing she could rely on was herself. Being fairly close to the PM she would be able to reach and protect him with a barrier if needed pretty quickly. So until further orders came she was to just stay put and endure the proceedings. | Name: Aileen (Formerly Carol Rorick)
Age: Physically - 17 | Actually - 30 | Believes to be - Thousands of years old
Gender: Female
Race/Nationality: British
Appearance:
5' 2" and 116lbs.
Personality: Extremely proper, archaically so. Her speech and mannerisms harken back to times well before modern times. She has a kind heart and will go out of her way to assist others. For those she befriends she is loyal to a fault and will put herself in harm's way to protect them. She has a strong intolerance toward summoned creatures and will stamp them out almost without a second thought.
All of this is due to mental manipulation and conditioning. In fact Aileen believes herself to be a deity of sorts, and a guardian of humanity. Despite thinking herself "superior" to most others she does not intentionally express it outside stating it. However she may occasionally expect some form of tribute from those she feels are beholden to her and does not like her persona to be challenged. Even so she is first and foremost a protector and tends to be non-combative toward humans and will defend them as intended. Villains of course are the exception as they threaten others, but Aileen is known to be merciful once justice is served.
Due to having an artificial personality she very easily comes off as "lost in time." So despite being from the modern era much of it seems to be new to her. Naive would describe it well, though she is a quick learn. The programming was perhaps not specific enough because she can sometimes go against orders so she can accomplish the prime directive she was given, protect and serve.
Abilities: "Holy Light" - Imbued with the element of light and tinkered through the advances in medical science Aileen has been molded into a weapon to combat the chaos surrounding her country. Much of these aspects reenforce the persona that Aileen now believes herself to be.
Light Absorption - The linchpin of all her abilities. This was present before any modification took place and was one factor that lead her to be selected. This powers everything else and she can store the energy drawn in from light sources indefinitely.Obviously she must replenish her energy via sources of light in order to power all of her abilities. The sun is the best source but others do help to a lesser degree. If kept from sources of light and forced to use all she's stored her powers are effectively null.
Hard Light Constructs - The other aspect of her abilities that lead her to be selected. Aileen can create solid and realistic constructs from light provided she has energy left to do so. The more energy applied to a construct the stronger it is. The shape and appearance are limited by the imagination. Her armor is a good example and by manipulating it she is able to lift herself off the ground as a form of flight.With enough force the constructs can be broken and the light used to create them is lost. At this point the upper limit of strength and resilience appears to be that of steel and no larger than a small bus. The larger the object the more light needed to produce it. These can also not be created or manipulated further than three yards away.
Light Projection - Able to release wide or concentrated light in order to illuminate, blind, or even burn things.The least efficient use of energy. Illuminating things is not that bad but the brighter the more energy. Burning things with concentrated light takes quite a bit more than just focused light, but also amplifies. As such she tends to avoid its use if possible.
Regeneration - Since the early stages of modification her aging process has all but stopped. As such she has retained the physique of her 17 year old self despite over a decade passing. Obviously her body able to keep pace with decaying cells means that she heals from injuries fairly rapidly.It is speculated that if she were isolated from light sources and expends her energy reserves that she would continue aging normally. It should also be noted that while she can regenerate she is not invulnerable by any means. She has all the normal physical capabilities and weaknesses of a late teen. The only benefit is survivability from the injuries.
Biography: Born one Carol Rorick in Wadhurst, England fifteen years before chaos consumed the world. Growing up Carol's life was fairly simple. Where she lived was not that far from London, a little less than an hours drive. With a population of less than 6,000 the area that Carol grew up was not a big bustling metropolis. Of course a market town has the advantage of being quieter, or at least that was what everyone assumed.
Being a dreamer and avid reader Carol developed a liking for history. A broad subject to be sure but one study in particular piqued her interest, the study of mythology. Not that she would make a career out of it, but the stories and beliefs that people created throughout the ages was fascinating.
Sadly the bright future of academia ended for the 15 year old girl as it did with so many others when the metahumans and arcane arts became a reality. Unsurprisingly London was one of the first to be hit hard, being the capital. The ensuing war zone it caused forced many out and quickly spread to the small town. Woefully unprepared many lost their lives. Unable to escape the oncoming Carol's family was caught in the fight and lost. Those that attacked though were in over their head though. Wracked with grief Carol lashed out in a sudden burst of power that sent spikes of hard light running through everyone unfortunate enough to be nearby. The newfound power tipped an already emotionally unstable girl over the edge. Effectively losing her mind she began to roam around killing indiscriminately.
Not a year passed and the initial turmoil that consumed the country was finally beginning to be reigned in. London survived, albeit in shambles, but the governmental body began to take charge again. A new project was started to capture rogue elements and either recruit them or eliminate them. Due to changed nature of the world many of the previous lines that were not crossed were now open. Many were caught and brought back to be "rehabilitated," Carol among them. Of course the girl proved to be a difficult one. She didn't communicate, liked no one, and constantly made her best attempt the harm people. However she possessed the ability to harness light in ways that science wished it had figured out. A solar powered being meant little resources needed to sustain her. Plus she was in a moldable state and no one would call them out.
So began the process of altering Carol's mind. Conventional means were only so effective. While she was not as hostile she was still relatively unresponsive. So the use of a telepath was employed to make the necessary changes. At first they attempted to turn her into a soldier. This only worked as far as training but the loyal persona they tried to force did not stick and she began to backslide. Digging deeper the favoring of mythological legend was found. A shot in the dark they began the tedious process of giving Carol a new identity as a goddess. As preposterous as it sounded the girl's shattered mind took to it and Aileen was born. Finally making headway after two years they had gained control of yet another metahuman.
With descent more or less squelched several other procedures were performed to improve Aileen's abilities and increase her survivability. After all losing an asset after so much work would be a terrible waste. The resulting regenerative capabilities worked perhaps too well as it halted the aging process before her peak physical strength are could be reached. Still it was a success by all accounts except for one thing. She was programmed to protect and serve, a default that on occasion conflicted with orders. However for the most part she is obedient. This is why, much like William, she was sent in goodwill to improve relations with Mundin.
Specialties:
Military training - A latent set of knowledge implanted when first being made into a soldier. She only seems to recall this in stressful situations.
Historical knowledge - From her past studies, Aileen remembers information about many places and time periods. It is the one thing of Carol that appears to remain. But it would not be unusual for Aileen to refer to such past events as if she had been there.
Equipment: Her armor itself is a product of her hard light construct ability and is almost ever present. Beneath the armor she wears a white sports crop top and short shorts. It is less an aesthetic choice and more of a practical one to get as much exposure to light as possible while still being decent. She seems rather oblivious to how she appears outside of her armor.
Beyond that she keeps her government issued ID on her at all times and usually a little cash should she need it.
Other: Aileen has not aged for 13 years. So for anyone who has met her within this period would recognize they she hasn't changed a day.
I will also fill out more of who she believes she is as time goes on in IC. Because where's the fun in just telling you all that? |
54,597 | 1,491 | 0 | 2,483 | 4,751 | Sin stepped off the train and into New Republic Central Station. He had boarded the train in Zaofu last night at sundown. After saying goodbye to his family his mother had handed him a set of crystal chimes. He wasn't sure why, exactly, but she probably thought it would remind him of home. He hadn't gotten a chance to play them yet, but maybe he would get a chance soon.
Sin walked up the stairs to a vendor stall on the surface. "Excuse me. Can you tell me where the White Lotus recruitment office is?" She gave him directions and five minutes later he walked inside. "Excuse me, sir. My name is Sin."
"Down the hall, second door on the left." said the man.
Sin assumed he had just met so many volunteers that he recognized them when they walk in. He walked down the hall and entered the door the man had directed him to. Inside was a man at a table with a signup sheet in front of him and another door. "Welcome to the New Republic/White Lotus recruitment center. Are you here to join up?"
"Yes" he said, and was handed a clipboard with "Possible Recruit List" written at the top of it. He wrote his name beside the number 11 and was handed a vest with "11" on the back and chest.
"Just put that on and go inside." He pointed to the other door. Sin walked through the door and into room with a fighting area in the middle. It was set up like the inner zones of pro-bending arena, complete with stone disks and water trays.
Two fire benders were in the arena currently, throwing fire punches and lightning bolts at each other. Sin walked over to the wall, set his bags down, and walked to the commander. "Sir, I came to sign up for the fight against Kuvira and the Red Lotus."
"Good," he said. "As soon as these guys are done I'll throw you in the ring." Since the commander apparently wasn't interested in talking to the recruits, Sin sat down and waited his turn. | Name: Sin Bei Fong
Age: 20
Family: Huan Bei Fong, other Bei Fongs
Type of Bending: Earth/Lava
Personality: Sin doesn't like bullies, and will try and stand up for anyone who is being bullied. He sees governments like Kuvira's, as well as assassins like the Red Lotus, as bullies, and has now decided that he can't sit around any more while they bully people. He has an artistic side, and can often be found reading, listening to music, making his own music, or even looking at art. He has an interest in electronics, and can sometimes be found studying them.
Bio: When the Earth Queen was assassinated by Zaheer many people fled the chaos of Ba Sing Se and traveled to the more tame parts of the world. One of those ships ended up in Zaofu caring and musician named A'mi. A'mi tried to raise money by being a street performer, playing her crystal chimes via Earthbending for money. Huan heard her and, moved by her music, introduced himself. As it turned out, she had seen his work at a museum in the middle ring and liked it.
They went out to eat and lost track of time while in each other's company. They spent the rest of the night talking, well, at least most of the night. The next morning he introduced her to some of his friends in the artist community, including the owner of the local concert hall. Huan taught her metal bending so that she could also play more common stringed instruments and in time they fell even more in love. When she told him she was pregnant he proposed, having already been considering it for the last week.
Sin was that child. He grew up in Zaofu, learning to Earth bend at the age of five, though he was never able to learn metal bending, despite learning from his great grandma Toph. When he was nine they found out why, as, when he was defending himself against some local bullies he got mad and hit the ground and it turned to lava around his fist.
His parents were fast to find him a lava bending teacher, his uncle Bolin, and soon he had learned to make various volcanic rocks with his abilities. He applied this to the art lessons his parents gave him and soon he was sculpting with these rocks as well. His greatest sculpture, "Rise to the Sun", an obsidian corkscrew with a sphere on top, sits in the Zaofu museum.
When he was 20 he heard of the White Lotus's call for troops and decided to help. After all, his uncles and aunt Opal had joined the fight against Kuvira, and he couldn't stand by and let the people of the world continue to suffer. He said goodbye to his family and bought a ticket on the next airship to Republic city.
Equipment: Obsidian knife he made himself, set of chimes his mother gave him, drawing book, graphite pencils
Other: His mother invented steel drums and his younger brother Sai invented an electric guitar. Also, his great grandma did manage to teach him to "see" through vibrations in the earth and even, with concentration, tell if someone's lying. He rarely uses this ability, however, as lava and some types of volcanic rock make it fuzzy. |
54,598 | 1,491 | 1 | 70 | 496 | This was not a happy time to grow up. Especially for a girl like Aiza. At seventeen she had never known what a time of peace was like. What would her life had been like if she hadn't been fighting to survive her entire life. She was all alone in her little hidden home, keeping herself in the shadows and making sure the people in the area stayed as safe as they could be. But now was the time to step forward and fight. Aiza had heard people talking about how the White Lotus was recruiting people today. It was her chance to fight as a part of something. The only problem was people, she might be a part of squad or something like that, and she didn't play well with others. Mostly because the only person she could ever rely on growing up was herself. But that shouldn't stop her from helping. She didn't want the next generation to grow up like she had.
After tucking her coin purse into her pants, Aiza crawled out of her little home and started on her way to the recruitment office. A fake confident grin was plastered to her face, and she walked as if she owned the place. Even if she really didn't, she could act like she knew what she doing. The walk was going to take her a little while, the recruitment office was a bit far from her home, and she didn't have a schmancy car, or a none schmancy car for that matter. It took even longer cause she got distracted by a couple of benders in a mock battle.
Finally, Aiza made it to the office and walked inside confidently, picking a random direction, she started going to the right. "Recruitment is left." The man at the front said.
Aiza turned on her heels and started going left. "I knew that." She said with a stupid grin.
It was pretty straightforward after that and she soon found her path blocked by a guy at a table. She eyed the guy warily, who welcomed her and asked if she was here to sign up. "Uh, duh, why else would I be here?" She said with a shrug.
The guy just shook his head and handed her a clipboard. She wrote her name down on the 12 spot in her usual, barely readable, chicken scratch and gave the clipboard back. The guy gave her a vest and told her to go on through. Aiza grumbled as she put on the vest and walked into the other room. She stopped by the entrance to watch a pair of Firebenders who were going at it in an arena like area. She scoffed at their movements though. They looked so ridged and stiff, nothing like her own fighting style. But then again, Aiza-fu could only be explained as a sporadic mess, a tough mess to predict and beat, but still a mess.
Aiza walked over to where two other people were, one looked like they were in charge, the other didn't. She addressed the one who looked like they were in charge. "You know those two suck right?" She said completely seriously, to which she got no reply. With a shrug she went over to the other guy. She nodded her head upward, "Sup. You here for the cookoff? Whichever one of them loses gets roasted and we get to eat them." She said out of nowhere. Ah, there was the crazy in her family coming out. She didn't know WHY she said that, she just felt like she should. The scary part was, her fire wasn't even blue yet. Apparently you could tell when a woman in her family was really starting to lose it when their fire turned blue. Which terrified her because it meant she could get even worse than she already was. | Name:
Aiza
Age:
17
Family:
Aiza is the great granddaughter of Azula, her grandmother was named Ursa, after Azula's own mother. Her mother was Yumi. Of course making her related to Zuko and his family line as well.
Type of Bending:
Firebending
Personality:
Aiza, like the element she bends, is a bit wild and tough to control. She's passionate and has a love for learning, but not being taught. She likes to figure things out on her own rather than have people tell her. She has some trust issues, but is willing to give people a chance. More than a little childish, she's known to giggle at random things or stick her tongue out at people. She has absolutely no filter and will simply say what pops into her head, usually without thinking first. Though isn't opposed to apologizing if she offends someone, her goal isn't to hurt people's feelings or offend them. She almost always has a grin on her face and likes to make sure everyone else does too. Like her great grandmother, grandmother and mother before her, she isn't entirely mentally stable, but thankfully has a bit more control than her kin did. Her biggest fear is suffering from a mental breakdown, like the women in her family seem to do.
Bio:
From an early age, Aiza had to figure things out on her own, and do things for herself. Because of her mother's mental instability, which started really showing when she lost her bending to Amon, she really wasn't fit for raising a child. For some reason, a lot of people in Republic City don't like firebenders, so Aiza couldn't find herself a teacher. Instead she taught herself firebending, by secretly watching other people and mimicking their moves. People looked down on her a lot, because of the insanity that ran in her family. She just loved proving them wrong when they said she couldn't do things. Eventually her mother had to be taken away and locked up, because her mental health just kept getting worse and worse. Being on her own, she took a lot of odd jobs to try and pay her way, even joined the Pro-Bending circuit for a little while. But quit after a week because the rules made it boring. She's pretty much always lived in hiding, growing up in a dark time like she has. But because her mother did fight the Equalists, Aiza feels like she has to continue on that legacy and fight too. So she stayed in the shadows, fighting to keep people safe wherever she could. But staying in the shadows isn't enough anymore. Now it's time to come out into the light.
Equipment:
Aiza doesn't usually have much on her, as she never strays far from her makeshift home. She does keep her money pouch on her person at all times though, cause she doesn't trust anybody but herself with it. She's learned to survive on her own well enough, she can find herself whatever she needs when she needs it.
Other:
No matter how hard she tries, Aiza has never been able to bend Lightning. Though maybe if she had a proper teacher that would change. She is naturally talented at chi sensing though. She never tells anybody who her family is, and certainly doesn't tell them that she's mentally unstable. Ah and, due to the nature of her clothing and it having no pockets, she keeps her coin purse in her pants. |
54,599 | 1,491 | 2 | 157 | 3,052 | Sorin gulped, he stepped off the train looking around in awe. His home had always seemed so distant from everything else, now he was here. He had picked up a map of the city and made a notes from what locals had told him on how to find the recruiting office. Carefully he made his way down the halls, turning right finding the office. "Hello, I'm here to sign up... This the White Lotus recruiting center correct?" He added nervously.
Sorin signed his name and soon had his vest on, thirteen an unlucky number. He hoped he wouldn't fail, he just wanted to heal other to fight. Though he would if he had to, for others not himself. No better way to stop wounds than prevent what causes them... Right? His mind wandered as he shuffled in quietly and took a seat next to girl who looked quiet tough.
He stared down at his shoes pulling some water out of one of his flasks he began to form a little ice sculpture. He liked to do it, most for the challenge art if he could make it life like. He began to work on one of the Avatar's, the one who had died most recently. She was remembered fondly among the water benders, even if she had been unorthodox she had been the Avatar. Slowly it began to take shape, he began on her profile and then her face and hair. He had seen painting of her and some sculptures he hoped his wasn't bad.
Carefully he finished the little Avatar statue and smiled. It was nice even though it would melt it reminded him why he was here. Why even one person can make all the difference in the world. He sighed then looked back at the arena, he'd succeed then show them his talent as a healer. He hoped he could make even a small difference, then maybe he could matter to the world. | Name: Sorin
Age: 18
Family: Orphan, raised communally.
Type of Bending: Water bending, Healing
Personality: As innocent and caring as he is naive Sorin believes that no one should have to die. While he does not believe in killing he will attempt to stop anyone from attacking his friends. His skills as a healer are exceptional and have saved many lives. His calm demeanor has also made him very good at thinking and then acting, making him a very patient and deliberate fighter.
Bio: Born in the North Pole he was taken in by the royal family, serving as their attendant and doing many duties. He would also sneak out each night to pray at the Spirit Oasis for his parents to arrive one night and raise him. One night he slipped and fell in to the water of the pond, having never been taught to swim he shut his eyes and waited to die. Yet somehow the next morning he awoke beside the pond alive somehow as if saved by some mysterious force.
In the years that followed he sent to train as a Waterbender yet choose to study healing over combat feeling that it was his calling. As he was saved so should he save others, secretly though due to his falling in the pool his healing much stronger than average benders. Seeing as now the world threatened to break apart he has traveled to join the White Lotus and protect the world.
Equipment:
With little to his name he brought it all with him, a bag of clothes formal and casual. Three flasks of water and neatly hidden inside his shirt is a small vial with a drop of water from the Spirit Oasis.
Other:
Likes:
Full moons
Sitting by the ocean
Drawing
Singing
Dislikes:
Heat
Violence
Death
Habits:
Humming
Worrying about others
Tapping his foot
Fears;
Storms
Lightning
Explosions
Weapons |
54,600 | 1,491 | 3 | 1,972 | 780 | Seth sat in one of the benches watching the two fire benders train. They had spunk, but also were making a few mistakes that could get hem killed in a real fight. He had gotten to Republic City earlier that day and the nostalgia flowed back as he walked down the streets towards the recruitment office. The memories of the Fireflies, his friends, and the pro-bending matches made him almost miss the office. It would have been great to visit his two pro-bending partners, but he wasn’t there to sight see. He was ordered to help the white lotus keep the peace against the red lotus. Once he showed the man at the desk his papers from the Fire nations he sat down and watched the match between the two fire benders.
“They have heart, but could use a little more work on their techniques,” Seth muttered to himself as he watched more recruits walk in. he rubbed his eyes and sighed, “I understand the need to stop the Red lotus, but o throw such young individuals into the fire.” Seth stood up and walked closer to the match to get a better look when he heard a girl talk about how bad the two were fighting. Is that? No, she’s too young to be her. I must be getting old if my eyes are playing tricks on me like this. Seth thought.
“It’s not that they’re bad at their skills, it’s just they’re training. Should they mortally wound the other then we’re a man down against the Red Lotus,” Seth explained to the girl just before she went off on talking about roasting one of the fighters and eating them. Seth shook his head and added, “Should have known you’re a fan of Azula. You look just like her, but I figured my eyes were playing tricks on me. Word to the wise: you can idolize her, but acting like here will get you weird looks. Many of the soldiers look up to both her and her brother since they’re the most powerful fire benders out there. So I get where you’re coming from, but I wouldn’t act like her. You’re already in the fire by fighting the Red lotus. Don’t throw your life away just to idolize someone else.” | Name: Seth Rush
Age: 42
Family: None
Type of Bending: Fire
Personality: Collective, calm, caring
Bio:
Seth was born in the fire nation to a black smith family. From a young age he was taught how to create weapons using his fire bending skills. By the time he was ten he had made his very own Weapon of black steel he called the Black Star Blade. While he was still young his father told him of the amazing adventures he went on as a kid, but by far his favorite was when his father met the Avatar. Seth admired the Avatar and their efforts to keep the peace. However, as Seth grew he slowly lost interest in black smiting and more into Pro-bending. He would listen to every match on the radio and always said he would be a great Pro-bending champion. For his fifteenth birth day his parents took his to Republic City to watch a match live. Seth was enthralled at the match because for years he had envisioned what a match would look like, but he never imagined a match to be like this.
Seth began to train when he got back home to join the ranks of the Pro-bending players. It was a long road but as he perfected his skills he finally felt comfortable in his skills to try out in Republic City. He left home when he was nineteen to join a Pro-bending team. It was much harder than it seemed because he didn’t immodestly get into Pro-bending but first got a job as a dishwasher at a café. However, every night he would scour the city for flyers or other indications that someone was looking for a Fire Bender for their Pro-Bending. It took him 6 months but he finally found a team looking for Fire Bender try outs. He immediately went to where the try outs where held and watched as the other fire benders had their turn. Seth was sacred at the fact that many of the Fire benders where good and he wouldn’t be able to become a Pro-Bender player.
When Seth’s name was called he went into the try outs and preformed with all his heart. By the end of the try outs he and the rest of them were told they would make their decision by the end of the week and asked for contact information. Seth gave it to them and walked out feeling lest then stellar. He couldn’t tell if they were impressed with him or found him lack luster and pathetic. A week later the two Pro Bending players he tried out in front of came by his work, but he felt they were only there to eat. Since trying out he was pushed up to waiter and while he helped other guests one of the waitress told Seth the two wanted to speak to him. His heart leapt into his throat when he heard this and proceeded to their table.
The two introduced themselves: the earth bender was named Sotoe Grey and his water bender partner was Tulu Frost. They asked Seth if he had some time to talk to which Seth was able to get time from his boss. The two talked about his try out and what things they liked and what things he could improve on. By the end of the conversation Sotoe congratulated Seth on joining their Pro-Bending team called Firefly. Seth wanted to leap up and down and hug the two, but he kept his composure and thanked the two. When the two left and he went back into the kitchen he celebrated like a child who got the toy they wanted for their birthday.
The next day Seth met the two at the training grounds where they helped Seth improve on the skills he needed to while also perfecting the skills they had commemorated him for. By the time three months had passed Seth was waiting with Sotoe and Tulu. He was nervous for his first Pro-Bending match but Sotoe reassured him that he was nervous for his first match as well, but his team helped him through it. That’s what Sotoe and Tulu did as the match began. It started out slow and Seth made a few mistakes, but as the match progressed. Seth got into a grove and with the help of Sotoe and Tulu they won the match.
The post-match party in Seth’s mind was the best thing that ever happened to him. He was on the road to becoming a Pro-Bender player and he knew once Firefly became famous he could bring his parents to Republic City and give them a home to live in so he wasn’t so far away.
The next two years went by so quickly Seth felt it was like he blinked and time had speed up. Firefly was doing great, they had won matches but also lost some but the ladder leaned more towards the winning side since they were 15-5. Seth was at the height of his life. He was a Pro-Bender player, his mother and father came to one of his matches which they lost, but he didn’t care since he got to see his parents. He was even asked to be Sotoe’s best man when he asked Tulu to marry him. He felt like he found the rails to the rest of his life, but that came to a crashing halt when news broke that the Avatar was killed. It was a blow to everyone’s mood and soon it became apparent that everything was going to change.
Seth wanted to stay in Republic City and continue his Pro-Bending career, but he knew the leader of the fire nation would want to mobilize a unit should the peace be threatened. Sotoe and Tulu understood Seth and told him to go back to the Fire nation to help with the peace efforts. When asked about his replacement. Sotoe and Tulu informed him they were having a child and would retire from Pro-bending. Seth wished them the best of luck and caught the next boat to the Fire nation.
Once he returned to the fire nation, his first stop was his parents’ house. He informed them of what he was doing and his father presented him with Seth’s very first weapon, The Black Star Blade. Seth said his goodbyes to his parents and left for the military camp. He wasn’t sure he’d need to worry since the next avatar would show up soon, but something in his gut told him otherwise.
Through the years, Seth trained at the military camp and improved his Fire bending skills for more combat then Pro-bending matches. However, he found that his skills in Pro-Bending made him more agile and faster at seeing potential threats. He was never one to be a leader so instead he followed every general’s order and trained until he could no longer move at times
It’s been twenty-one years since the Avatars death and Seth now finds himself among the youth of the Fire nation. He was never one to be a leader, but now he finds himself as a lieutenant under one of the generals in the Fire Nation. Their mission is to help the White lotus keep the Red lotus at bay.
Equipment:
Other: None |
54,601 | 1,491 | 4 | 2,483 | 4,751 | Sin was a bit surprised by the girl's suggestion that they eat someone, but he assumed that she was joking. At least he thought that until the Elder soldier started talking about her emulating Azula. If she was trying to be like Lord Zuko's sister, she might actually do something like that. From what he'd heard, she was crazier than a drunken badger-rabbit.
He also noticed a water bender that sculpted a statue out of water he carried with him. Good, he thought, he wasn't the only artist that had decided to help defend their people. He walked over to the man. "Hi, I'm Sin Bei Fong of Zaofu. It's nice to see another artist has come to join the fight. I was worried that everyone here would be uncultured brutes."
Just then one of the guys on the field launch a lightning bolt at the other fighter which the second fighter failed to dodge completely. It hit him on the shoulder and sparks shot across his chest briefly, throwing him backward. "Medic!" the attacking fire bender called out. | Name: Sin Bei Fong
Age: 20
Family: Huan Bei Fong, other Bei Fongs
Type of Bending: Earth/Lava
Personality: Sin doesn't like bullies, and will try and stand up for anyone who is being bullied. He sees governments like Kuvira's, as well as assassins like the Red Lotus, as bullies, and has now decided that he can't sit around any more while they bully people. He has an artistic side, and can often be found reading, listening to music, making his own music, or even looking at art. He has an interest in electronics, and can sometimes be found studying them.
Bio: When the Earth Queen was assassinated by Zaheer many people fled the chaos of Ba Sing Se and traveled to the more tame parts of the world. One of those ships ended up in Zaofu caring and musician named A'mi. A'mi tried to raise money by being a street performer, playing her crystal chimes via Earthbending for money. Huan heard her and, moved by her music, introduced himself. As it turned out, she had seen his work at a museum in the middle ring and liked it.
They went out to eat and lost track of time while in each other's company. They spent the rest of the night talking, well, at least most of the night. The next morning he introduced her to some of his friends in the artist community, including the owner of the local concert hall. Huan taught her metal bending so that she could also play more common stringed instruments and in time they fell even more in love. When she told him she was pregnant he proposed, having already been considering it for the last week.
Sin was that child. He grew up in Zaofu, learning to Earth bend at the age of five, though he was never able to learn metal bending, despite learning from his great grandma Toph. When he was nine they found out why, as, when he was defending himself against some local bullies he got mad and hit the ground and it turned to lava around his fist.
His parents were fast to find him a lava bending teacher, his uncle Bolin, and soon he had learned to make various volcanic rocks with his abilities. He applied this to the art lessons his parents gave him and soon he was sculpting with these rocks as well. His greatest sculpture, "Rise to the Sun", an obsidian corkscrew with a sphere on top, sits in the Zaofu museum.
When he was 20 he heard of the White Lotus's call for troops and decided to help. After all, his uncles and aunt Opal had joined the fight against Kuvira, and he couldn't stand by and let the people of the world continue to suffer. He said goodbye to his family and bought a ticket on the next airship to Republic city.
Equipment: Obsidian knife he made himself, set of chimes his mother gave him, drawing book, graphite pencils
Other: His mother invented steel drums and his younger brother Sai invented an electric guitar. Also, his great grandma did manage to teach him to "see" through vibrations in the earth and even, with concentration, tell if someone's lying. He rarely uses this ability, however, as lava and some types of volcanic rock make it fuzzy. |
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