OOC Original Character Creation

Wade Von Doom

All Caps when you spell the man's name
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. Speed of Light
  2. Multiple posts per day
Writing Levels
  1. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
Genres
Sci-fi, modern, horror, a bit of dark romance stories.
Name:

Age:

Gender (Can be genderless too):

Sexual Orientation:

Species:

World and Universe they are from:

Appearance (Just a basic description of what your character looks like. Needs to be over four lines long. Please include basic shit like height and complexion, as well as physical build.):

Personality (Over six lines long.):

History/Bio (Over eight lines long; no canon blending- as in direct interaction with canon characters.):

Powers (If your character has biotics, magic, a superpower, racial abilities, or anything that can be explained.):

Power limitations (The limitations of said powers, because nothing that will be accepted is limitless):

Skills (Any skill your OC is particularly adept at, from swordsmanship, to piloting, to knitting should be mentioned here. Should also state their skill level D-Slightly Above Average, C-Above Average, B-Excellent, A-Master, S-Above Master, SS-Grandmaster):

Weapon(s)/ Equipment (You may use pictures from any non-accepted fandom as a description, but all effects/abilities must be described. If it's any kind of technology, please give the specs.)

Strengths:

Weakness/ Fears:

Other:​
 

Grehstone

Edgebabby
FOLKLORE MEMBER
19513700-4B63-48A4-8E87-F32C1CAB64D1.jpeg

Name: Chum Teeth

Age: Goblins don't age like humans do, and they haven't been counting, but... Like, in her late goblin 20s?

Gender: Female, but... Well, it's not easy to tell.

Sexual Orientation: They're looking for a lady. A specific one, sorry. They're taken.

Species: GOBLIN.

World and Universe they are from: The DND world. Specifically spelljammer.

Appearance: A thin, wiry goblin with dark hair, a small upturned nose, pointed ears with lots of rips along the bottom edge, sharky teeth, a really big scar between her ribs on the right side, and barely any feminine features. No, not even a hint of bonkhonagahoogs. Chum can typically be seen wearing the garb of a sailor beneath her armor, with lots of white-blue stripes and raggedy edges and tattered little holes and a nice bandana atop her head. That armor, interestingly, is a hexagonal style of steel scale mail covered in red cloth that was once popular in the east. It consists of a vest, shoulder guards, boots, bracers, and a short skirt. Its outer cloth covering is poorly maintained, with lots of crude stitches holding it together. Oddly, despite bearing the the marks of having many piercings ripped away, Chum is always seen wearing a silver ring with tiny moonstones embedded around its perimeter. They wear it on the ring finger of their right hand, ALWAYS.

Personality (Over six lines long.): Most goblins are typified by a live fast, be feral, die young mentality. And while Chum can be feral, circumstances have forced them to plan for the long term. She longs for someone she lost out in the infinite ocean of nothing, and she charts and tracks and plans to meet her again. Chum loves drink, song, and dance. But some shanties bring tears to her eyes and a mournful tone to her voice. She hunts not just for love, but for vengeance, and her fury is every bit as wild as you'd expect from a goblin when it arrives. Also, shockingly, she's got a great head for maths, and can be really damn clever.

History/Bio: Once, Chum Teeth was a lowly pirate goblin aboard the Black Maw. Captain Black Fang was the cruelest orc to captain a spelljammer, and Chum knew his wrath well. One day, not long after their last doctor died, Black Fang brought aboard another goblin. A cleric to a god Chum did not know. A god who tolerated all, and saw beauty in even the worst creatures of the night. Not tolerance for evil deeds, but... Well, She believed those from all walks of life deserved a chance. Her name was Kelpie, and she gave Chum the inspiration to stand tall and hope for a better tomorrow. Soon, Chum's new outlook earned them the chance to learn from the aging navigator, and it seemed that the goblin was moving up... Until Kelpie proposed the escape. A terrifying, nerve-wracking idea... A wonderful possibility. A growing, ever-hungry curiosity that kept Chum awake late into the night. They planned for months, and one day, they went for it. Black Fang intended to raid a sphere. Kelpie would disguise herself as one of the raiders, and join Chum teeth. They'd break away in the chaos, and run away together, living on whatever world they touched foot on... But before they entered the crystal sphere, Black tooth spotted Kelpie. And Chum made the mistake of threatening him. A sword through her middle, a boot to the sternum, and the feeling of gravity taking over were all Chum had before it all went black.

Chum awoke on an island on the world below. On her belt was her magic flail, In her hand was a magic ring, and in her side was that terrible blade. Chum should have died. But two of those three things saved her life. And the third would prove instrumental to her survival once she figured out how to remove it without bleeding out. She learned to survive on her own, planned for the future, and got lucky in the end. Once she got to civilization, she wasted no time at all. She's been going from Spelljammer to spelljammer, ship to ship, and port to port, hunting for any news of the Black maw. Tracking every move, every raid, every battle... Hunting it down like Ahab hunted his White Whale... And then she got thrown overboard for suspected theft. Seriously? SERIOUSLY? It was the human! But between magic items and a mysterious portal, she might've gotten lucky again... Or, maybe she's very un-lucky, since she's tumbling into the multiverse that is Evrensel.

Powers: Chum has limited access to and understanding of Navigation magic, namely these specific spells:
Find Direction: Allows a compass to show true north or point to a significant landmark/star even if there's severe magnetic interference.
Find Water: Causes a compass to point to the nearest source of water. Fresh or Salt can be specified. Has a limited range of about a few miles.
Find Item: Causes a compass to point to a specific item that the caster (or someone aiding in the casting) is familiar with. Has a limited range, about the same as find water.

Power limitations (The limitations of said powers, because nothing that will be accepted is limitless): Some of Chum's navigational spells have limited range or require knowledge of what one is looking for. All of them require access to magic and a compass. Plus... well, it's hard to use an enchanted compass in a fight. Best you can get is a quick snap of where exactly that guy sent your sword flying to, and you're super likely to get stabbed while you cast that.

Skills (Any skill your OC is particularly adept at, from swordsmanship, to piloting, to knitting should be mentioned here. Should also state their skill level D-Slightly Above Average, C-Above Average, B-Excellent, A-Master, S-Above Master, SS-Grandmaster):
Field Surgery: D
SwordsGobShip: B
Wilderness Survival: A
Magic Flail usage: A
Navigation: S

Weapon(s)/ Equipment:
Iron Fang: The fearsome sword of Black Fang, unintentionally sent overboard with Chum Teeth. It's a cutlass of orcish design, and it's made of incredibly durable steel, but there's no magic or special properties about it, aside from a hooked tip and a bit of serration on the back. It definitely has some stories behind it, but Chum only cares about the tale of how it'll rip out its former owner's blackened heart some day.
Void Sailor's Life Ring: A gift from Kelpie, Chum doesn't fully understand the effects of this ring, save that it seems to keep her alive and breathing in situations where she shouldn't be. The truth is, it creates a small sphere of breathable atmosphere and moderate temperatures around its wearer. It can save you from certain death, but even it has weaknesses. Namely, this false atmosphere can't do anything to stop magic or solid (Not liquid!) matter. And it only lasts about half an hour at a time, needing multiple hours to recharge itself.
Magic Flail: An enchanted flail made of strange materials. Its handle has a loop of chain on one end that tightens to wrap around its user's wrist, and a large rounded head on the other end, seemingly a spiked cage of black iron around a hunk of dark wood with glowing veins. The handle can release the head and up to a hundred feet of chain for it to swing on, which is magical enough without the head's mysterious properties. The head of the flail, when charged with magic, can change its relation to gravity. It can become incredibly heavy (somewhere upwards of five tons, but it hasn't been weighed in this state) or significantly lighter than air (Has an upwards pull of anywhere from 50 to 200 pounds, depending on the circumstances) in addition to the ability to simply ignore gravity (and seemingly ALL forces placed upon it) to anchor itself wherever it pleases, even in mid-air!
Navigation stuffs: Chum carries with her a few navigation essentials, such as a compass, blank parchments, drawing charcoal, and a sundial.

Strengths:
Determined to a fault, she’s got the grit to look at damn near any situation and say 'I can live through this.'
Can't be swayed by lust or greed because she’s got LOVE, DAMN IT!
Knows that she’s got limits, and that running away is valid, sometimes.

Weakness/ Fears:
While a fine fighter, Chum is no master, and relies heavily on her weapons. Without them, she just has teeth. Sharp, but they're still just teeth.
Chum drinks. Heavily. And sometimes, that drinking leads to VERY dumb decisions. Imagine what a gentle nudge could do to a drunken sailor...
Chum tends to jump the gun the moment that Black Fang or Kelpie are mentioned. If one has information or a silver tongue, they could easily pry some emotional leverage out of that...

Other: I hope y'all like Sea Shanties!​
 
  • What a TWIST
Reactions: Epiphany

Grehstone

Edgebabby
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Name: Felix "Dancer" Tobin

Age: 29, only a few months short of 30

Gender (Can be genderless too): presents androgynously, but all their official paperwork says 'Male'.

Sexual Orientation: Felix is still figuring this out, admittedly.

Species: Human, but rumors abound of cybernetic implants or enhancements.

World and Universe they are from: Battletech/Mechwarrior

Appearance (Just a basic description of what your character looks like. Needs to be over four lines long. Please include basic shit like height and complexion, as well as physical build.): Standing at 6'2", Felix is a tall, slender, and effeminate figure with pale skin, light brown hair, and dull brown eyes. However, their preference for colorful makeup and the wear of an elaborately decorated pilot's suit on nearly all occasions make them stand out, proudly wearing blues and reds with white accents. Often less seen is their cumbersome neurohelmets, each lovingly painted with images of the mechs those helmets are associated with and the victories that mech has earned.

Personality (Over six lines long.): Felix at first appears to be a cold sort of elegant, calculating yet beautiful and refined. But there's a false edge to that act, a hesitation. A desire for connection. But Felix has been betrayed before. Left for dead. When the chips are down, Felix chooses Felix.

History/Bio (Over eight lines long; no canon blending- as in direct interaction with canon characters.): Before enlisting in the Free Worlds League military, Felix's life was just a foot note. An only child from an average family. High grades, but nothing else worth talking about. A few instances of behind-the-scenes drama and controversy led to Felix being assigned to a city defense post. Just one of many "Urbie Jockeys" intended to deter pirates more than actually stop an invasion force. But being on the border with the Federated Commonwealth meant conflict was inevitable. And after a few years of service, a series of "pirate" raids seemed keen on battering the planet and raiding its cities. Except there were too many of them. And they were exceptionally well equipped. Many with Assault Mechs. It didn't take a genius to realize they weren't pirates, and from there it wasn't hard to figure they were Fedcom Mercenaries. But who they were didn't matter as much as how they totally outmatched the defense force. Reports state that Felix and the other city defenders fought with distinction, tactics and terrain letting them punch above their meagre tonnage, but the whole unit was abandoned when the real Fedcom troops arrived and the retreat started. All were listed as M.I.A.

Two months later, Felix Tobin and a few other survivors of the invasion were listed as Mechwarriors working for the 'Jameson Jabbers' mercenary company on the Commstar Mercenary registries. Felix's combat records indicated that they still piloted an Urbanmech, but it is difficult to say if it was heavily modified, or an entirely different example. Felix served under this unit for three years before being removed from their registry and winding up on the roster for that year's Solaris games, another Urbie pilot.

At first, Felix seemed doomed to blend into the mess of competitors. But then, they were scheduled for one fateful 'weapons dead' melee-only match. The Urbanmech, lacking hand actuators, was instead fitted with crude mace-like weapons in place of its lasers and cannon. Against an experienced Commando pilot with a pair of sinister mech-scale machetes, Felix seemed doomed to a pathetic defeat. Instead, Felix took advantage of the Urbanmech's rare 360 degree torso twist, and spun the mech like a top, shredding their opponent like a buzz saw. That's when Felix earned the nickname 'Dancer'. They made a killing at the games, and they slowly accrued the cash needed to expand their mech collection. The Urbanmech was soon joined by a Centurion, a Catapult, and a mighty Atlas. They were on their way to being a champion. But everything changed when the Clans attacked.

Felix didn't care much to save Fedcom's hide, but Solaris was a Steiner world, and their boss was offered a great deal of money to send along a few mechwarriors to both push back the clans and potentially have their combat footage used for propaganda purposes. Felix didn't even make it to the battlefield. A jumpship accident caused the solaris warriors' dropship to be lost, seemingly gone forever... Instead, mangled during the FTL jump, the dropship and its survivors were scattered out into the multiverse. Felix was due for a very, VERY hot drop.

Powers: None.

Power limitations: What is there to limit?

Skills:
Mech Pilot: A
Mech Gunner: A
Mech melee: B
Rifle Marksmanship: C
Pistol Marksmanship: C
Knife fighting: B
Bayonet fighting: B
Combat medicine: C

Weapon(s)/ Equipment:
Personal weaponry:
Blazer Laser Rifle: A double-barreled laser rifle. A good pick if you're willing to trade ammo for firepower.
https://cfw.sarna.net/wiki/images/t...q0liw156i6bhzh9x.jpg?timestamp=20150531043832
Hawk Eagle Auto-pistol: A ballistic pistol carrying 15 shots and capable of semi-automatic or three-round burst-fire. Popular amongst the military units of the Free Worlds League.
https://cfw.sarna.net/wiki/images/4/45/Hawkeagle-pistol.png?timestamp=20130427082008
Survival knife: A knife with a Bowie styled blade, a sawback, and a knuckle duster grip wrapped in paracord. Shockingly practical for something ostensibly packed as a show piece.

UrbanMech, UM-R60L AKA "Pirouette"
https://i.ibb.co/yPv4pnB/urbanmech-ks.png
A light, 30-ton mech whose 360-degree torso twist, heavy modifications, and extreme armament make it punch well above its weight.
Speed: 101 KPH at max, due to its engine being replaced.
Armor: Over 30 on most components.
Armaments:
1 AC/20, 10 rounds: An extremely high-powered short-range cannon, normally carried by far heavier mechs. Known to be able to one-shot other light mechs and slowly tear into heavier ones, this cannon is one of many reasons underestimating an urbanmech is a poor decision.
1 ER Small Laser: A small laser with an extended optimal range of about 200 meters, this weapon may be underwhelming in the damage and power department, but is more than enough for infantry, and never runs out of ammo. Doesn't generate much heat, either.
2 Jumpjets: A thruster in each leg allows the mech to 'jump' short distances and slow its falls, allowing safe landings from extreme heights.

Centurion, CN9-AH AKA "Gladius"
https://cfw.sarna.net/wiki/images/f/ff/Centurion_Shrapnel002.png?timestamp=20210213020031
A medium 50-ton mech whose loadout was clearly chosen for the Solaris Arena, but still functions well in the field.
Speed: 65 KPH at max
Armor: 30ish on most components, over 50 on the Center Torso and Right Arm, the left arm having about 15 due to weight concerns.
Armaments:
3 AC/2s, 304 rounds: Three low-powered cannons with long range, this trio of cannons is not standard to the Centurion, replacing the large AC/10 it is depicted with. Though, despite their low power, by chain-firing them, one can achieve a highly rapid volley of shots without any significant jamming and a very slow buildup of heat.
2 SRM/6 launchers, 180 rounds: A pair of devastating short-range missile launchers mounted where the photo model's LRM-10 would be, in the left portion of the torso. They generate far more heat than the AC/2s, and have a fairly short range, but they really put the boot in when needed.
Fist: This mech has a proper hand actuator, allowing it to grasp objects and, on rare occasion, punch something.
Sword: Used primarily in Weapons Dead matches, this gladius-style sword is both this mech's namesake and a proper melee weapon. Felix suspects it was mainly packed for propaganda photoshoots and the potential for use in a "Batchall" duel, but as this particular centurion doesn't have energy weapons, it may be necessary in a low-ammo emergency.

Catapult, CPLT-C2, "Funny"
https://64.media.tumblr.com/a1c53c41b26932865100b0124400e080/tumblr_ndxg64QMtT1u24xr8o1_1280.jpg
An extremely simple mech still well loved in all parts of the inner sphere and the periphery, with a stunning array or variants and custom models.
Speed: 70 KPH at max
Armor: 45 on most components, 70 in the Center Torso, and 30 in the legs
Armaments:
2 Rotary AC/2s, 700 rounds: If the AC/2 is a long rifle, the R-AC2 is a gatling cannon with the same caliber of round. Firing at high speed, the R-AC2 can deal much more damage in a much shorter time than multiple AC/2s, but at the cost of generating a LOT of heat and with the potential to jam in the middle of a fight. These take the place of the laser weapons in the picture.
4 SRM/6 launchers, 240 rounds: The same sort of launchers used by the Centurion, the Catapult carries more of them and more ammo for them. Chain-firing them does reduce the heat issues to a degree, but they do generate a LOT of heat.
1 Jumpjet: Though the catapult could make a very short jump with this, it's more often used to soften landings and stabilize the mech.

Atlas, AS7-D, "Magnitude"
https://qph.fs.quoracdn.net/main-qimg-844cf1a82b3cea347132617329a02d4d
A terror on any battlefield, a machine whose name and visage are feared, and a design personally commissioned by Alexander Kerensky himself. The very definition of an assault mech, 100 tons customized for close-in carnage...
Speed: 50 KPH at max
Armor: No component here has under 80 armor, and the torso has over 130.
Armaments:
2 Rotary AC/5s, 525 rounds: Like the R-AC/2s, but heavier caliber, and both focused in the right section of torso, where the depicted Atlas has an AC/20. Though shorter ranged than their lighter relatives, these cannons more than make up for it with the sheer amount of hurt they put out.
2 SRM/6 launchers, 120 rounds: Nothing new here, just two short range missile launchers in the left torso, replacing the LRM-10. However, the Atlas doesn't carry as much ammo for them, due to needing the space for the R-AC5s and their ammo.
1 Large Pulse Laser: A powerful energy weapon that generates a great deal of heat, but can melt armor with its pulsing fire. Placed in the Center Torso, ensuring that it should stay functional and firing until the engine is slagged or the cockpit destroyed.
1 Laser AMS: Placed atop the left shoulder, this device detects incoming missiles and uses a weak laser to shoot them down before they can strike the Atlas. However, the system can be overwhelmed, and even when successful, it is possible for a few missiles to slip through anyway.
Fists: The Atlas, as you may have noticed, has two hand actuators placed at the end of two highly armored arms with a whole lot of weight behind them and no delicate weapons in their way. Felix will NOT be shy about using them to hammer you flat.

Strengths:
-An excellent pilot who fears little on the battlefield, even against overwhelming odds.
-Can work as a team player, Eve if he’s a little rusty. Knows how to set up good plays on the field, at least on a basic level.
-Has a sense of showmanship, and knows how to entertain.

Weakness/ Fears:
-Struggling with identity issues, Felix might know things about themselves, but they don't yet know who they are, and can be... Swayed.
-A pragmatist and a survivor, Felix has little in the way of loyalty to others. If the chips are down, Felix is willing to switch sides to the winner... Or whoever pays more.
-While not TOTALLY incapable outside of his mechs, Felix is no better than standard infantry without those tons of armor and guns.

Other: Pay your bills, Friendo.
 

The Wanderer

Mysterious Stranger
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
Writing Levels
  1. Give-No-Fucks
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
Genres
Any.
0 David_the_goliath_ref_sheet_jacket.jpg

https://twitter.com/HybridStarfall Userpage of StarfallHybrid -- Fur Affinity [dot] net [Art of my boi, done by the linked artist]
Name:
David Ludlow

Age:
Is technically in his 90s but is biologically in early 30s.

Gender:
Male

Sexual Orientation:
Asexual

Species:
Mutant

World and Universe they are from:
A world where magic and science are interwoven, teetering on the brink of Armageddon.

Appearance:
David stands at 7'0 and weighs about 335 Ibs of muscle. Skin is lightly tanned with scars and odd tattoos covering his body. The nature of the tattoos appear to be marking injection sites or where to cut. And said tattoos have spots missing due to injuries from the years. Hair and eyes are both a dark brown, with the hair that would have reached his shoulders if it wasn't tied up into a rather unkempt ponytail. The face of David is heavily scarred, where scalpels had cut into and where needles endless poked or from injuries sustained over the years.

David is often always in a brown coat of sorts that is often stitched together with other scraps of cloth, grayish pants that have some small tears around the legs and started to fall apart at the ankles, also covered in stitch work or tape. Leather gloves that have long since begun to crack and just barely kept together with cloth and tape over holes that stich work couldn't fix. Brown boots that have been through years of wear and tear, but is still holding together remarkably well. David also does tend to wear a white metal mask with a simple line smile that looks cracked and paint chipping away to the point the dark grey metal the mask is made from has begun to show.

Personality (Over six lines long.):
[+] David has always shown he is someone who will have your back if you have his, willing to dive into literal hell and pull you out at the risk to his own self, no matter how serious or light the situation is, the man is extremely loyal. Sure getting to this point on the scale of friendship is difficult, but the reward is more than worth it.

David's also someone who remains steadfast in a goal he gives for himself, be it building a cabin in the harsh winter forests of Alaska, or pursuing his enemy for years, never resting. Doesn't matter if the odds are literally against him or his allies, David will stand before the enemy and raise his fists to fight. Determination or sheer stubbornness, David is someone who doesn't give up, no matter how damaging it might be.

The man is known for being compassionate. Sure he does seem like a bit of a jerk and passive, but no matter how much it gets buried under reassurances that he shouldn't interfere, or harsh words given by him. The man will always lend a hand to those in need, though said efforts will be often veiled behind grumbles and annoyed mannerisms.

[=] David's known to be a man of the mindset of "Move or be moved." Often taking the shortest paths between problem and solution, often making the situation worse or only delays the inevitable. Combined with his refusal to stand down and the knowledge of his skillset and abilities, this can either lead to good outcomes, or bad outcomes in tense situations.

Another trait noticeable that David has, is the man's empathy. While he can't say he can feel the same as others, he can definitely understand their feelings and actions. This is often how David often make good friends with veterans, homeless and people who lost someone close to them that he can gain a friend or friendly associate, or manage to negotiate with someone.

And of coarse, one has to notice that David tends to be a bit on the distant side of things, often barely letting anyone in past his shell, revealing little about his life or going out of his way to get to know someone. This trait is most likely born from David's worry about his un-aging self and those who get close to him will eventually pass on, and thus the best way to avoid such heartache is simply not gain new friends.

[-] A man of a short temper, David has let his anger get the best of him. Destroying a project or item, which when he calms down, he will remember what he did, which will send him back into a rather infuriated state. The man does his best to control it but each time the wall between calm and fury gets thinner with more cracks than before.

In tandem with his fiery temper, the man tends to hold onto grudges beyond what would be considered healthy. To him, once you cross him, you've crossed him for life. Barely not letting anything go, no matter how big or small the issue between David and the offending party might be. The man will most likely carry his grudges til the end of time.

And as per the man's history, his demeanor is often one saddled with a buried sense of sadness. And despite the man's efforts to not show it, one can spot the signs when he sags his shoulders, sighs and the thousand-meter stare in his eyes as he moves through the day. The man has far too many skeletons in his closet that desperately needs to be released, as they tend to affect his choices in the present, for better or for worse.

History/Bio:
David Muller was born on April 10th, 1945, a mutant. His mutation would be mild, allowing him to heal slighter faster and get over colds that would affect children. Said mutation would earn him a kidnapping to be experimented on by a rogue doctor that intended to make a super soldier for the Vietnam War. Countless experiments and surgeries that would've killed anyone else, David was transformed into the giant of a man that he is today. And before he could be shown off to a committee for potential mass production of super soldiers like David. But before this could happen, a kill-squad was deployed to kill said doctor as misinformation led said squad to believe he was making a nuke to then use on the US on their own soil.

David would barely escape the inferno that became the lab as it burned to the ground, he would eventually be adopted in a sense by a homeless group that was traveling to another city, taking pity on the poor soul. They taught him certain skills so he could properly manage if he were to strike out on his own. One person in particular was a woman by the name of Rose, whom David grew to love and vice versa. Said love inspired him to sign up for the Vietnam War, believing that doing so would get Rose off the streets and in a happy home. He and Rose even made a new bank account with money they scrapped together so that any money that was made would go into said account.

After signing up and the reveal of what David was. The military made sure that David was to be part of what was essentially a classified unit filled with people with abilities thought only possible in comics, and creatures of fiction. Fighting well into the last days of the Vietnam War, and even past it tying up loose ends. Dealing with supernatural and regular threats to the world at large. To secretly gauge how well such soldiers would actually work in the military. The whole time, David and Rose kept in contact via letters, which allowed him to learn that she had rented an apartment with the money he made during the war while she worked to add to it.

With the war over, and David's service done. He went to their home to see Rose to reconnect with her, and put the events and horrors he faced during war behind him, and hopefully live out the rest of his days out with his friend. What he found when he arrived at her home was beyond anything horrible that he could fathom. His closest friend and love was found dead, for she had been slated to testify against a rather violent criminal group, who had her dealt with violently.

This led to David snapping, going out to lead a series of attacks across the country directed at getting back at the group responsible for Rose's death. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years.

And at the end of it all, David left behind a legacy of violence, his friend avenged and the world dubbing him a psychotic serial killer. David went on to go into hiding. Taking residence in Alaska, David hopes to peacefully live out his days, however many they might be.


Powers:
Mutation: David's body heals at a faster rate and adapting compared to humans, injuries requiring days heal in hours. Even quicker with an additional help from the enhancements given to him as a result of the experiments, but the body cannot fix on short notice with little to no materials gathered, so it'll use fat or excess muscle mass to replace the damage done. Often causing David to lose weight in mere moments, going from the big musclebound giant of a man to maybe basketball level physique or less.

It also slowed his aging to crawl even before the additions to said ability. Now it's currently unknown at what age his body moves at without consulting the now missing data of the experiments on him. And is the reason why his body took to the experiments without any sign of rejection.

Circulatory system: To keep his muscles in near perfect shape and at inhuman levels of effectiveness. Someone surgically added a series of 'veins' that are connected to a special organ near his heart that is constantly pumping a much stronger version of adrenaline through David's body. Stimulating the muscles to remain in their shape and ready to go dip into the bloodstream to speed up regeneration.

Enhancements: As mentioned, David's physique is beyond what most humans can manage in their lifetimes, able to break bones just by squeezing with his hands, or perform feats of strength that only a select few could pull. But nothing crazy, he isn't going to be lifting cars one handed or easily do things that superheroes could pull.

Power limitations:
The regeneration on its own is slow acting but gradual. And as mentioned, it can be boosted at the cost of rapidly burning excess fat or muscle tissue to repair the damage done, which means that body weight can drop drastically. From a muscle-bound giant, to basketball level to a fit frail as the body basically proceeds to auto-cannibalize his muscles and fat to ensure that enough genetic material and fuel is available for such rapid healing.

And the sheer stamina cost alone is enough to send him from wide awake to barely conscious. The whole thing requires him to constantly have a steady intake of calories to build up decent fat and protein for muscles to develop for when he has to heal. Said adaptation makes it difficult for most drugs or chemicals of a beneficial kind to properly help him. Meaning if he is poisoned, then he has to wait for his body to fight it off, as the antidote will only ease the poison's effects. Or deal with intense mind-numbing pain as painkillers burn up in his system far too quickly to be of any help.

And while he can get back up after seemingly taking a fatal wound, any damage to the brain or more specifically to the memory parts, would mean that he'll lose his memory, or if his entire body is destroyed or even reduced to a frail body and not allowing his body any form of nutrition to fuel his regeneration mutation's enhancements, then his cells will finally die off and that's the end of David.

Skills:
Hunting - C
Archery - B
Trap-Making - B
Interrogation - S
Boxing - B
Cooking - S
Weapon Making - A

Weapon(s)/ Equipment:
David simply carries a hand-crafted bow with arrows and a knife with him. As he will often build his own weapons from whatever he can find.

Strengths:
David works well as a tank or a flanker/flank denial. Useful in woodland or dense and claustrophobic areas where he can lay down traps or ambushes by himself.

Weakness/ Fears:
Due to his large size, stealth or discretion is often out of the window unless he can kill everyone that could possibly alert the enemy, he is not useful is wide open areas with no cover for him to lay down traps or ambushes and if singled out, can only do so much before he gets overwhelmed.

Other:
David has a pet Siberian Husky "Waffle" that he adopted a couple of years ago in his world, aged at roughly four years old and sporting regular ol' black and white coat. Said pet is trained to help in hunting, tracking and some help in combat situations.
 
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The Wanderer

Mysterious Stranger
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
Writing Levels
  1. Give-No-Fucks
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
Genres
Any.
0Otto_sketchpage.jpg
[Art of my boi done by: Userpage of StarfallHybrid -- Fur Affinity [dot] net https://twitter.com/HybridStarfall ]
Name: Otto Kadovah

Age: 18

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Species: Human

World and Universe they are from: Star Wars, shortly after the fall of the Empire during the aftermath of the Battle of Endor.

Appearance: Standing short at roughly 5'5 and weighing 128 Ibs. Underneath the helmet and suit, Otto sports blonde hair and extremely pale skin with green eyes.

Personality: An extremely traditional individual, Otto was raised to follow 'The Way' of Old Mandalore. Meaning he'll never take off the helmet, follow the tenets to the point he'd sooner find something else to avoid breaking them. After all, breaking them meant he'd end up being disowned as a Mandalorian and losing the remnants of perhaps the only family he ever knew.

When dealing with outsiders or potential employers or bounties, Otto acts stiff and stone-walling people to the point one would be good in assuming his social skills were more than rusty. This does change when he deals with other Mandalorians and beings that manage to capture his respect for either their combat ability or their own honor code, being more open and less stiff.

History/Bio: Born on a planet that was later besieged by the Empire, Otto was rescued by passing group of exiled Mandalorians when said Empire invaded to subjugate the planet and take the resources while establishing a strategic base. Taken in and adopted as one of them, Otto was trained to live and fight like them by so many different people, that he couldn't quite place anyone of them as a particular parent. And due to them often calling him 'Vod' or 'brother' in their language of Mando'a, he referred to each and every single one of them as brother and sister.

When he came of age, and after passing his rite of passage, he began to undertake any job that'd not only provide his family with funds and the right to Beskar armor, which was a tough thing to do when one was as young as he was. But eventually he was able to get enough Beskar to forge his armor, when a year after the Empire's Second Death Star was destroyed, he was separated from his clan after a particularly bad skirmish with Empire remnants that nearly killed Otto and most of his fellow clanmates.

Alone in the galaxy, Otto does any job he can to fund his effort to find his family once more..

Powers: N/A

Power limitations: N/A

Skills:
Piloting - A
Marksmanship - B
Hand to Hand - A
First Aid - B
Melee Weapons - S

Weapon(s)/ Equipment: DE-10 Blaster Pistol
IB-94 Blaster Pistol
Scatter Gun
Jetpack
Whipcord Launcher fitted with a hook to not only capture targets but to traverse in case jetpack is broken or can't be used.
Retractable wrist vibro-blades

Strengths: Blitz attacks and in/out missions.

Weakness/ Fears: Losing his honor as a Mandalorian.

Other: N/A
 
  • Nice Execution!
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Wade Von Doom

All Caps when you spell the man's name
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. Speed of Light
  2. Multiple posts per day
Writing Levels
  1. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
Genres
Sci-fi, modern, horror, a bit of dark romance stories.
1658556645_FINCX2TUUAESVZy.jpg


Name: Roy, Bearer of the Curse

Age: ??? (He looks young, but that's about all he knows)

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Unknown

Species: Human, Undead

World: Dark Souls, within the dwindling era of the Drangleic kindgom

Appearance: Wearing the Faraam Armor set, Roy rarely ever removes his helmet. He will sleep with it off, but either in open or compact spaces, Roy keeps his armor, and his weapons, close at all times to not let his guard down. The armor bulks his figure considerably, but underneath, he's more slender than most would expect; lean, yet still muscular, like a gymnastic in his flexibility and reflexes.

He bears several scars along his body from combat, like the slashes of a blade along his chest and back, to arrow heads striking into his skin and under his muscle along his arms and shoulders, to even a cut along his nose from the blunt edge of a mace to the face.

c12e0c33bdb69429982ae20768198108.jpg

Personality: Roy is the silent type. He doesn't speak, unless spoken too, but he isn't a loner type. He's more 'awkward,' than anti-social. He isn't sure how to address people, as most of the people he meets end up losing their minds to hollowing. Forgetting who he is, or simply crumbling away into a hollowed state that will attack him.

Not to mention his own loss of memory from death, where he feels he doesn't even know himself, and doesn't know how to feel sometimes. If a person he befriended briefly dies, should he mourn them in some way, or not allow himself to be emotional in the moment? Such moments of self-doubt, in a world on the brink of succumbing to never-ending darkness, can only lead to failure and defeat, so he must continue on, instead of questioning himself.

This leads him to a constant state of caution, and paranoia. He will never take his armor off, or let his weapon slip away. Whatever protects him, he will not part with, because he believes if he is vulnerable, even for a second, he faces death. To be revived and killed so many times, Roy is plagued by that fear of becoming hollowed, forgetting what little memory of his past remains, and failure to achieve the goal of his journey.

History: He needs a cure. That's what Roy remembers. He came to the land of Drangleic to find a way to remove the curse of the undead from his soul. For every minute he has it, the curse will remove all that he holds dear and remembers. He can recall, before he arrived to this land, of a woman cradling a child in her arms, in an old wooden chair by a window, in an old house that brings some semblance of comfort to him. But he cannot remember her face, or even who the child is. Was it a daughter of his? A boy? Was the woman his wife? Or was this his mother, of when he was still a child? The feeling remains, but the memory fades.

Yet, he also remember learning of this cure for the curse from an old woman. He doesn't remember how he came to find her, but can still vividly recollect her telling him of Drangleic. 'A great kingdom built by a great king,' filled with souls like a feast for the undead, and it can mend his ailing mind of the curse. "Perhaps you're familiar?" She asked him. And indeed, it was familiar, yet why? Why Drangleic? He needs a cure, but why this land in specific does it attract souls? Whatever it's reason, he knew he needed to go, else loose himself forever. In the ruins by a lake, a portal within its waters opened for him, and with a deep breath, he jumped, falling into its endless darkness. And when awakening, he was in a cavern.

It was as large as a mountain, with a massive crack of light far off to the north. 'Things Betwixt,' it was called. A link between Drangleic, and the outside world he had come from. There would be no way back from where he came until he found his cure. He traveled through the cavern, meeting a trio of old women who scoffed at his arrival, already presumed to his defeat of the curse, and through the crack in the rock, he found himself truly beginning his journey. One of loss, pain, and plenty of death. Both of that around him, and of his own, countless times. He will find his cure, but as was warned of him, he will come to this kingdom's decrepit gates, without really knowing why.

Powers: N/A

Power Limitations: N/A

Skills:
Hand-to-Hand -- A
Marksmanship -- B
Melee Combat -- S

Weapons/Equipment: Alongside his Faraam Set, Roy carries a broadsword, a Golden Wing shield, Several dozen throwable short daggers, a dozen lifegems, a handful of radiant lifegems, some plants and herbs he uses to help defend against a variety of elemental effects such as poison or fire or even lightning, some charcoal pine resin to light his sword afire, An Estus Flask, and five Human Effigy's, for when he dies and needs to restore his humanity once more.

Strengths: An excellent warrior in combat.

Weaknesses/Fears: Dying again and again, until his mind is lost. The poor man can barely sleep without nightmares of foes he's fought, or the pain of dying.

Other: Big, angsty lad he is.
 
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Girania the Knightess

Rune Champion of the Void
NameAnri

Age: 12

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: None

Species: Human

World and Universe they are from: The Dawn Covenant

Appearance: Anri was once shorter than the rifle she carries on her, but has since grown. Now she's just barely taller. She wears bulky-looking fur clothes, a small satchel tied to her waist, and a hat that covers a part of her hair that covers a missing eye. She has dark brown hair, and soft, light skin. Take away the clothing, and a person would be able to see many scars stitches on her body, most of which were from her father. Other scars are from monsters such as Griffins and Bunyips. She missing her left-most lateral incisors, and molar on the right side of her lower jaw.

Personality: There are two parts that make up Anri's personality. The first part is the calm being simply known as Anri, whose expression rarely deviates from a straight face, and performs certain requests from others without question, if she believes she can do it and those others are considered allies. Then, there's Anri the Child, whose bombastic happiness carries on throughout everything she, herself wants to do. Whether it's kicking down doors to take what she wants or needs, or killing a group of wild animals to save a poor family, if she made the decision on her own, then she'll be loud, impulsive, and probably singing as she does it. When fighting an especially nasty for, the demon part of Anri shows. She becomes more aggressive as time passes, and if she manages to kill that creature, then she will rip and tear and eat its flesh as it dies before her. The Demon part of her also helps in that it manages to snap Anri out of her obedient, calm state, and back into her childish self while she sleeps.

Though some would think that she had two souls or personalities, the truth is that both parts make up one individual. Both are open (for the most part), both do what they must, and both are strangely good at what they do.

History/Bio: What would one resort to, when in the pursuit of knowledge and understanding? How far, would one go in order to achieve a goal? Some are bound by ethics, others are not. Anri was the result of one who had been denied those shackles. Her life before the the Order is a mystery to most, and those who do know the full story are likely not to tell. Anri was born of an unwilling mother, and an uncaring father. Her sole purpose was to assist in providing the kind of materials that others would most likely refuse to use. Her mother didn't die from bearing her, but she could never look upon the babe and accept her as her own. Her father...well, let's just say that he's the reason Anri's missing her right eye.

Anri was raised to be obedient (that is to say, she was brainwashed from the moment her father started raising her). She did what she was told without question. She brought objects and tools to her father, allowed him to take her teeth and eye, and even butchered her own mother after her father had told her to.
She almost never got the chance to experience life the way it should have been experienced, and the only consolation were a few lessons on how to talk and read, and a few books. Then one day, her father had done some strange ritual, and Anri found herself wandering alone. Memories became a blur around that part, but she remembers feeling ecstatic afterwards. When she found herself chasing birds, the foreign emotion overgrew. She had finally found the happiness of freedom. Unfortunately, that freedom was a bit too much.

She found herself learning on her own on how to fight and how to vanquish. The ritual her father had performed involved summoning a demon from The Void, involving some special minerals and Anri's previously taken teeth and eye. It was an infant, but it still managed to merge with Anri's being and kill the man in the first place. It was through the demon's instincts that Anri had managed to survive and learn as much as she has. She took what she wanted, and learned what she wanted, and with both being so vast, it was inevitable that she became some sort of oddity. Of course, it was simply a part of her life, like any other. And like all parts of life, she transitioned from it to another. This transition took the form of saving another child from wild wolves. She sung as she fought and scared away the beasts. When the kid thanked her, she felt a different type of happiness. Something that she wanted more of. This feeling would only ever come when she saved someone from misfortune and danger. So, she sought it out, and found herself doing what was considered "Good." And maybe a little bit of what was considered "Bad", but the concept was always strange to her. Sure, she was instructed to temper herself, and revert to how she was before, but it was the feeling that mattered more to her than even herself.

During the war, Anri was found recruited he Evelyn herself after the child had shown her capabilities. Though her actions since her recruitment have been minor for the most part, she was still able to contribute heavily in the final battles, and even managed to kill Terra, the "Memory", a General of the Dead God, as well as assist in the destruction of His soul-keeping orb. After the war, Anri went off on her own to do what she wanted again. Though she would encounter old allies here and there, the reunions would only be momentary.

Powers: None, but she has a magic rifle.

Power limitations: Magic rifle is limited to elemental magic and healing magic, and needs small objects to use as catalysts. Furthermore, it also has to cool down after five consecutive shots, as the Runes would surely overpower and destroy the rifle. The potency of the elemental shots is dependent on the material being converted. Twigs and pebbles for simple shots like fire projectiles and ice spikes. Living creatures (mainly bugs, but generally any tiny thing that can fit) for more varied and powerful stuff like flamethrowers and conjuring geysers upon the point of impact. Healing Magic can speed up the regeneration of a wound that could heal almost any wound that could heal on its own, but cannot bring back the dead or severed limbs.

Skills:

  • Cooking - D
  • Sharpshooter - S
  • Hunting - S
  • Personal Fun - SS
  • Brutality - SS
  • Focus - C (when normal)
  • Learning - A
Weapon(s)/Equipment (You may use pictures from any non-accepted fandom as a description, but all effects/abilities must be described. If it's any kind of technology, please give the specs.):

  • Anri's clothes are deceptive in appearance. Though they don't seem to hold much, the inside of her clothes contain several pockets, in which she carries all sorts of small objects. It's not overly complicated, but most others would cut themselves on one of her knives if they went through her pockets without any idea of her system.
  • Stiletto Knives
  • Throwing Knives
  • Flint
  • Hatchet
  • Magic Rifle: A specially-crafted weapon from her Dwarven friends. Though it only shoots one shot at a time, and needs small objects to use as ammunition, the runes inside allow her to shoot concentrated bursts of elemental (Fire, Ice, Water, Lightning, Earth) and healing magic.
Strengths:

  • Wild and Happy
  • Unpredictable
  • Obedient to allies
  • If suspicious or not trusting to someone on her side, will not be Obedient.
Weakness/Fears: When in the presence of an ally she has accepted, if that ally gives her an order, then Anri will follow that order, and remain as an obedient child until the next day, or until allowed to return to being Anri the Child.

Other: Anri’s known in at least one village as a Goddess. They praise her as “Bacon, Goddess of Food” due to her saving them from starvation once upon a time.
 

Epiphany

Behind Your Chair
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
  1. One post per day
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Primarily Prefer Female
Name: Chief Petty Officer Moire B-220

Age: 23

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Opportunistic

Species: Reengineered Human

World and Universe they are from: Halo

Appearance: Moire is tall, athletic with a long mane of red hair typically bound back in a ponytail. She stands just over six feet tall and weighs a surprisingly dense 200 pounds, mostly owing to a combination of Carbide Ceramic Ossification making her bones dense and artificially dense muscle tissue. Her voice is a strong alto, used to issuing orders or warnings, and she walks with the kind of coiled tense grace that suggests sudden death on two feet.

Personality: Moire is a consummate, professional soldier. She wasn't exactly bred for it but from the age of five, she's known nothing but the SPARTAN-III program, duty and honor. Compared to other Spartans, Moire is a little more laid-back in temperament, quicker to joke and a little more curious about people. That said, the chain of command has structured her entire childhood as well as her adulthood, and she's used to both receiving and giving orders. Civilians get a pass for unprofessional behavior but she also tends to think of them like children who have to be protected for their own good. To her enemies, Moire is an implacable foe who doesn't know how to quit, how to stop or how to be stopped.

History/Bio: Moire was born in 2525 two days after the beginning of the Human-Covenant war. She had a brief but happy childhood, marked by the searing loss of both parents who perished protecting her during a Covenant attack on her colony world. Genetic screening and aptitude of all children turned her up as a match for the SPARTAN-II program (which had long since passed), rendering her a natural fit for the second generation of the SPARTAN-III program. She was subsequently 'drafted' at the age of six by the Office of Naval Intelligence and put through the most brutal training program in the history of the human race.

She received her augmentation in 2539 as part of the SPARTAN-III Beta Company. Once she'd adapted to the immense physiological and neurological changes, Moire studied at the feet of a SPARTAN-II named Kurt-051 and mastered every form of combat expected of the Spartans. Her life was purely focused on learning skills and practicing to conduct warfare. Thanks to her natural genetic profile, Moire was one of the handful of SPARTAN-IIIs pulled from their regular company and retasked to function as SPARTAN-IIs with their Mjolnir Powered Assault Armor...which is the only reason she survived the utter massacre of the Beta Company during the Operation: Torpedo in 2545.

By then, she'd already had two years of successful long-range deployment against Covenant targets and she spent the next three years paying them back for the death of basically everyone she'd ever known. For most of her life, Moire's known nothing but rage and vengeance against the Covenant for their murder of her parents, her family and her fellow SPARTAN-IIIs. Only in the last year has she learned any moderation, mostly because of being based out of the 'hub' of the By Scarlet Forged, a reconnaissance cruiser that gave her the chance to actually interact with human beings outside of a battlefield.

At which point she was snatched away and dropped into another universe entirely.



Weapon(s)/ Equipment
BR85 Heavy Barrel Service Rifle
M6H Magnum Pistol
MJOLNIR Mark IV Exoskeletal Powered Armor
Type 1 Energy Sword

Powers: Moire is significantly more powerful than the average human being, owing to a combination of naturally good genes, genetic engineering, surgical operations along with chemical and cybernetic enhancement. Her abilities include:
  • Virtually unbreakable bones.
  • Sizable strength, allowing her to deadlift nearly half a ton and punch with enough force to kill a bear with a single blow.
  • Optical enhancements, allowing her natural night vision as well as macroscopic and microscopic vision roughly equal to civilian optics without the need for tools. Naturally perceptive.
  • Vastly accelerated reaction time, more than 300% human normal. She can react within 20 milliseconds to stimuli. Moire's intelligence and memory are likewise superhuman, although she's rarely had an opportunity to exercise either.
  • In addition, she has the SPARTAN neural interface, allowing her to naturally interface with both standard computer systems as well as AI constructs. Moire can use this interface to diagnose and operate equipment, computers and vehicles, even at range.
Power limitations: Compared to actual superpowered or supernatural people, a SPARTAN's enhancements aren't particularly impressive. Most of her efficacy comes from a lifetime of relentless training and superior equipment.

Skills:
  • Hand-to-Hand Combat: S
  • Personal Arms (Pistols, Shotguns, Rifles, Rocket Launchers, etc.): SS
  • Covenant Weaponry: B
  • Melee Weapons: B (A with knives or fighting sticks)
  • Explosives: A
  • Reconnaissance: A
  • Stealth and Infiltration: S
  • Ground Piloting (Cars, Tanks, ATVs, etc.): B
  • Air Piloting (Spaceships, helicopters, etc.): C
  • Computer Operation/Hacking: C

Strengths: Relentless, indomitable, powerful work ethic and tremendously loyal to those she cares about. Consummate soldier who has never been afraid of a fight.

Weakness/ Fears: Isolated, having never had much contact with civilians since she was five years old. Not experienced with operating outside of a chain of command. Has no idea how to handle non-military situation
 
Name: Idan Graves

Age: 23

Gender (Can be genderless too): Male

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Species: Homo Sapien

World and Universe they are From: Wildbow's Worm, Earth Bet, Brockton Bay

Appearance:

Idan Graves is an average ectomorphic-built biological male with bright orange hair and an ungroomed -yet short- beard of a slightly darker colour. His blue eyes are incredibly sharp and constantly scanning around him for the first sign of trouble. His height measures to 5,11ft, or 6ft when wearing any footwear. His fashion sense is atrocious. He dresses like a typical vagrant of his city, wearing damaged clothes of muted earthly hues, such as brown, green, and grey. Across his back is a slightly torn canvas rug-sack of various items, alcohol, aerosols, fireworks, and occasionally a few 'borrowed' books from a local library. The only thing undamaged about his apparel is his steel-toed, heavy-soled boots. Surprisingly, his teeth are pearly white and straight, and while he dresses like a member of the city's homeless, him and his clothes are rather well-cleaned.

Personality:

"Crazy? I'm just doing what any reasonably minded guy should. Look, we live in the fuckin' bay. This city has a higher murder per capita rate than every other STATE across this eastern seaboard, outpacing Boston! More than half of those deaths are due to idiots getting involved in shit they shouldn't or by looking like an easy target. Y'see. I'm too savvy for that. You might rag on me for wearing ratty clothes, but hey, at least no junkie thinks I'm a good mark, and if some sadist or opportunistic bastard wants a piece of me all I gotta do is backpedal, reach in here-" He gestures to the rug-sack along his back. "-toss something, and run while that fucker is still reeling back."

Idan's defining personality trait is paranoia and he manifests an explosive combat pragmatism when faced with danger or what he perceives as danger. He goes out of his way to look like vagrant, so he doesn't look like a prospective target for muggings, while he keeps a sack full of flammable and explosive materials so that he has something dangerous on hand for when his IS being attacked.

History/Bio:

"Brocktonites aren't born. They are forged from this shithole of a city." -An old proverb, from back in the early days of Brockton Bay.

Idan was the only child of Bevin Graves, a Welsh immigrant and thug under the Marquis' gang. While his mother died due to complications following shortly after his birth, his father always got enough of take from his jobs for the both of them, and made sure to teach Idan from a young age how 'the game' was played in Brockton Bay. Before he was even five, Idan knew of the gangs of Brockton Bay, their colours, their symbols, their flaws, and their power. His knowledge went all-the-way from the large-scale E88, to small-time Asian gangs that popped up after Kyushu.

When Idan was only twelve, just coming from eleven, things dramatically changed in his household after the Brockton Bay Brigade (or New Wave, as they would later be called), took down The Marquis in his own home and got him slammed in the Birdcage. Without a powerful parahuman figure, The Marquis' gang quickly fell apart and it's members found themselves on the bad-end of a hunting season. Police, Empire, and The Teeth all were mowing down former gang members faster than they could hide. Years of revenge coming to the forefront in a violent haze.

Idan and his father were one of the lucky ones. While Bevin wasn't too prideful to drop his colours, that didn't stop a group of thugs from the E88 from finding out where he lived and paying a visit. In a 5-on-1, with his son nearby, Bevin knew they didn't stand a chance. So he did the only thing he could. He got Idan out the building, told him to run for a neighbor's house, turned on the gas stove, and waited for the thugs to get in before striking a match.

Idan barely managed to blabber out an explanation to his neighbor before the house he grew up in went up in flames...

Following that, Idan spent six years in foster care system, jumping from household to household. Idan wasn't a bad kid per-say, but let's just say Brockton Bay wasn't a place that generated good foster parents. It was during this time, Idan picked up some of his habits. He realized threats could come from anywhere at anytime, not just from the gangs, he realized the value of dressing-down, and after a few bad beatdown from refusing to join up with one of the gangs of the bay, he internalized the importance of running.

At the fresh age of eighteen, he left the foster care system and managed to pick-up a pity job working at a local library. It was enough for him to eat and find a place to shit and sleep, but it also opened his eyes to a talent that would save his life many times over, explosives. During one of the library's inventory clean-ups, he decided to snag a worn copy of the Anarchist's Cookbook.

Quickly, he found himself immersed in it's contents, a fascination discover him and struck a deep accord. With improvised explosives, he could strike back when a bunch of gangbangers tried to make him another victim. So he spent his free time learning and his little coin purchasing materials. Soon, he had what he needed and the next time someone tried to mug him on his walk to work, he "left them a little gift and ran for the fucking hills". It felt exhilarating. It felt liberating. It felt like winning.

Powers: N/A

Power Limitations: N/A

Skills:
Running: B
Explosives: B
Street Smarts: B
Crafting(Explosives): C
Research: C
Disguises: D
Lying: D

[I'll get to this after discussion on the Server]

Weapon(s)/Equipment:
-Rough Canvas Rugsack
--Contains: Powder Glass, Fireworks, Aerosols, Alcohol, Canteens Filled With Gasoline and Oil, Plastic Pipes, Stolen Library Books (Books on Explosive Crafting), and Fuse Materials.




[Same as Above]

Strengths: Brockton Bay Survivor.

Weakness/ Fears: Thinkers(Divination Specialists), Masters(Mind Controllers), and Endbringers(Endbringer-Sized Creatures). He doesn't like being outsmarted, controlled, and sure as hell doesn't want to be near the mass-murdering Endbringers. 1fe2frvtq_Jeremy_2.jpg
 
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Valkan

Boondock Saints Enthusiast
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. One post per day
  2. 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
Name: Ryan Zokkendov

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Species: Human-Dragon hybrid

World and Universe they are from: ???

Appearance:
HBEZYiS.png

L4ZMmWx.png
Ryan has long, dark crimson hair, which he tends to keep neatly tied, with some small locks of hair remaining loose. His eyes are a bright citrine yellow that are thin almond shaped, matching neatly with his eye color and his ever so slightly tanned skin. Ryan's face is in a middle point between triangle and oval shaped, with a somewhat defined jawline. He has a medium nose and thin lips. Ryan is not very built, but has a quite defined body. He stands at 175 cm tall and weighs 83 kg. Among his lower garments he hides a red tail. He has sharp upper and lower fangs that are longer than usual.

Ryan usually wears a black tank top, accompanied by a dark red jacket, which he likes to use open. This goes along with a pair of gray combat pants, and black adventurer boots.
C2CluZ6.jpg
The image is pretty accurate, a beast measuring 20 meters from head to base of the tail, is 8 meters tall and has a full wingspan of about 27 meters.

Personality: A man of few words, unless he is talking to a familiar person. Apparently somewhat serious on the outside, but his true side is kind and empathetic. He has a very strong sense of honor. Due to his fear of being rejected back on his mercenary days, he is very self-conscious about his dragonkin traits. Nevertheless, he loves fighting and meeting people to compete with, either stronger or weaker. He is calm and composed when fighting, despite what his fighting style might tell. The dragonstone has made him unusually bloodthirsty and irrational at times.

History/Bio:
Son of a renegade noble and a seasoned warrior, Ryan lived a peaceful live in their house in the mountains, where his parents , as even though his father was a noble, he was well versed in martial arts as well as his mother, trained him to be capable of defend himself since an early age. When he was fourteen, he left his parents' house and started to travel across the world and become a better warrior. A few years after leaving, he met a band of mercenaries known as Karezin's Band, they were famous across all the continent for having some of the best warriors in all the land. Its leader, Norman Karezin, was an old friend of Ryan's mother due to the fact that she was in his band until she got pregnant with Ryan, decided to leave. Once in, they immediatly noticed the resemblance. After an arduous test of his skills, Ryan was allowed to join Karezin's band. After spending a few years with them, he became one of the finest warriors in the band, and was already famous for his great might. Though not without consequences. He ended up becoming a merciless and brutal killing machine after the rough training used on him.
One day, Karezin's Band was hired for a king who was in the middle of a war with a neighbor kingdom. Their instructions were simple, help the king's forces to invade and conquest one of the enemy's forts. Once they arrived, they were received for an army that was about twice the size of their own, but Ryan, the band and the troops of the king were already aware of the numerical disadvantage, but they fought with all their spirit. In the heat of the battle, Ryan got separated from the main group of his allies. Sorrounded by enemy forces, he fought with everything he had, but they were slowly overwhelming him. While this was happening there was only one thought on his head "I won't die here", this thought was the only thought ocurring in his head over and over while he was fighting the enemy soldiers. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain and everything around him went black.
That's when he woke up in a fancy throne, in the middle of an imposing room. Confused, he wandered around the place. Until he was alerted by a device on his wrist that something was wrong. He died in the battle of Laguz, where he last remembered being, amongst a sea of enemies. For only then to be called to a new world. Yvalia. That was the name of the kingdom he was now forced to live on. As a Summoned Original Unique Life-form. A S.O.U.L. That was the way he was being classified as now. An organism specifically designed to fight the forces of chaos that invaded Gaea, his new home. Which presented itself as an evil organization bent on erasing all human-like life. They identified themselves as Eden.
From then on, he had to build for himself a new life. New friends. New jobs. New lifestyle. Slowly, but surely, Ryan adapted to the new world he was put into. Fighting Eden and its allied forces. Gradually, he recovered his former power, as it had been taken away from him when he died. Not only that, but he continued to grow, both as a warrior, and a person. He became a S.O.U.L (or to put it better, a warrior. As the concept of S.O.U.Ls was unknown to the public) respected and admired by the people all across the world of Gaea. Something he couldn't even had hoped to achieve as a mercenary. It turned his battle-hardened heart soft, he started to feel the need to protect others. Sadly, he couldn't get to appreciate this, as one fateful day, history repeated for him.
While battling one of the commanders of Eden, Ryan found himself in a struggle. The commander proved to be a tough opponent. But then, in the climax of battle, something suddenly stopped the battle for him.
A bright, green flash blinded Ryan. And suddenly, he stopped feeling the ground beneath him. Ryan's body precipitated into a seemingly endless void. Falling, and falling, and falling. He had come across a similar feeling only once. When he became a S.O.U.L.
Ryan felt scared. Was he on his way to another world again? What about his friends? What about his newfound family? What about... his life...?

Powers:
Dragonkin biology: The mix of human and dragon blood, as well as the energy he was infused with in order to become a S.O.U.L, has enhanced Ryan's body far beyond regular human standards. His body surpasses the speed of bullets with ease, and has even faster reflexes. His strength maxes at lifting cars with moderate effort. His body is not particularly durable (certainly not average, but not as high as his strength, let alone his speed), but it is able to function properly even while heavily wounded. His saliva has paralyzing venom. Finally, his body regenerates from wounds at a very accelerated rate.

Friendly Fire: Ryan's body is extremely resilient to intense temperatures. His affinity to fire is so high, he could swim in lava, and smoke doesn't make difficult breathing for him.

Blazing Aura: Ryan can produce powerful concussive fire bursts of short range, from anywhere on his body, that can be used to boost the speed and strength of limbs, to propel himself through the air, or stun and burn nearby enemies. He can also produce non-concussive flames if desired, which have more range. Even covering himself in intense fire completely is a possibility. He can also up the intensity and fire plasma projectiles or create fiery explosions.

Nova: A 25 meters in radius, powerful explosion originated from Ryan. Its effects are devastating.

ANNA Communication Chip: Artificial Navigation Neural Assistant. An AI, integrated to Luer, which left a chip designed to establish long range communication.

Crystal Heart: Upon merging with a mysterious gem, Ryan connected with his dragon blood even more. Getting his horns to grow almost immediately, while his tail got thicker and longer. The more outstanding feature though, is his ability to morph into a dragon. Where he gains massive strength, resistance and regeneration capabilities, as well as an extremely powerful fiery breath. His weakness to low temperatures is voided.

Power limitations:
Ryan can't regenerate properly while doing much effort.
Excessive and prolonged cold is a problem. Ryan is rendered weaker if he can't shield himself from low temperatures.
Once he uses Nova, Ryan suffers moderate damage in his whole body and loses consciousness 15 minutes or so.

Skills:
Swordsmanship - SS
Spear combat - A
Axe combat - D
Unarmed combat - B
Flying - S
Horse riding - C
Wyvern riding - A
Survivalist knowledge - B
Medical assistance - D

Weapon(s)/ Equipment:
-A set of clothes enchanted to withstand heat as much as Ryan.
-An extremely durable, curved bastard sword. Kroniid. It is a literal manifestation of Ryan's soul, enabling him to summon it and desummon it at will (even though he prefers to have it summoned most of the time). The blade is permanently coated with powerful paralyzing venom. And, since the sword is an extension of his soul, Ryan can direct fire through it or superheat it.
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Strengths: An awfully ironic cool head... Most of the time.

Weakness/ Fears: Large bodies of water. Losing his rationality.

Other:
Ryan loves: spicy food, the nature, flying
Ryan hates: Rainy days, fighting with axes, chess
Ryan and his garments are always pleasantly warm to the touch. He can adjust how warm to some extent.
Ryan can fall asleep at will with great ease, and wake up just as easy.
 

Valkan

Boondock Saints Enthusiast
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Name: Tokui Uchiha

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Species: Human

World and Universe they are from: Naruto

Appearance: Tokui is a tall man of fit complexion. Being 184 centimeters tall and weighing 79 kilograms. Having family from the Cloud Village, his skin inherited the dark tone people of said village are known for. And having Uchiha blood means that his eyes are a deep black, until their kekkei genkai, the Sharingan, is active. He not only possesses that, but an Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan, which resembles a blooming flower of six petals. His medium length hair is extremely curly, and is held above his head with a headband sporting the symbol of the mercenary band he is a part of. He wears an unorthodox attire for his world's traditions. Consisting of a set of black baggy pants connected to closed ninja boots, a tight black shirt, a long black fingerless glove with a vambrace and a regular fingerless glove on his right and left hands respectively, a worn red, waist long cloak, and a white skull mask with horns and adorned with red lines. When on mission, he wears the mask over his face, otherwise, his cloak has clippings for it over the right shoulder.
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Personality: Tokui is a very disciplined individual, shaped by his many years training, but at times, he has his emotions get the better of him, for better or worse. He doesn't like being the point of attention, enjoying quite a lot working from the shadows. He can be quite resentful, shown by the fact that it took a long time to convince him to have his mother's eyes implanted, because he just hated her that much. On the other hand, his discipline also made loyalty grow in him. If he decides to protect something or someone, he will do so no matter what. Tokui also has a very strong moral compass, and will voice his thoughts on things that clash with his principles.

History/Bio:
Sukumi and Tanto Uchiha were both jonin from the Leaf Village by the time the Third Shinobi World War rolled around. They, and their child Kasumi (a 10 year old chuunin by the time war started), fought for two years in this war. Both parents came to the conclusion this was going to end in tragedy if it continued for long. Sadly they weren't too far off. Kasumi's team was wiped out in an opposition's ambush attack. Sukuni and Tanto caught wind of this while on a mission by themselves. They arrived at the scene, just in the nick of time. Their daughter was badly wounded, and the only alive person of her team remaining. It was then that the two concerned parents decided to defect from their village. They murdered the enemies, while also staging their deaths and leaving just enough evidence for them to be considered dead by their former home.

Hiding their few remaining connections to their home village, use of the sharingan in public included, the three roamed the land, away from the war. Guising as regular, though skilled mercenaries, they joined Raitonbo, a mercenary band that housed skilled fighters from all lands. Continuing her childhood in such a place, Kasumi's heart grew cold and determined to be stronger. Her only crack in that shell was Sarudoi, a shinobi from the Cloud Village who also defected mid war, though he did on his own rather than accompanied. Several years after joining Raitonbo, Kasumi and Sarudoi conceived Tokui.

Already aware of the deeds of Itachi Uchiha, the three Uchihas were quite strict and careful with Tokui's upbringing. He was always wearing a visor when around others, which their parents and grandparents also used under the pretense of "clan tradition". He was on a team of Raitonbo since quite early on his childhood, where he witnessed death and chaos galore, all in the name of the best buyer. Naturally, this made his Sharingan evolve fast. His mother, whom by this point started going excessively paranoid, became mad in a search for power.

One day, being alone with his parents, witnessed how Kasumi lethally injured Sarudoi. Kasumi escaped and Sarudoi was left to die in his son's arms. Tokui was devastated, enough so for his eyes to evolve into a Mangekyo Sharingan. Later that day, Tokui was informed that his mother had killed several members of Raitonbo prior to his father, and left with Tanto. Sukumi visited Tokui and explained in secret that she regrettably had caught wind of Kasumi's plan too late. She was informed by her husband, as he tried to catch her off guard and kill her, but failed. He confessed that both Tanto and Kasumi wanted a Mangekyo Sharingan to be protected in case someone like Itachi appeared and decided to finish what he started all those years ago.

Tokui and his grandmother informed Raitonbo they would personally take care of the mess their family caused to them, oathing to kill their mother and husband respectively. It took them several months, in which Kasumi trained Tokui further, though he kept the use of his Mangekyo Sharingan to a minimum, quickly aware of its cost. Once the four found each other, a few words were exchanged. Tokui hoped, deep down, that this was just a mistake they both regretted, but no. Both Tanto and Kasumi were quick to disregard their family and showing their murderous intent. Finding themselves with nothing else to say, a bloody battle ensued. By the end of it, Tokui and Sukumi stayed true to their oath. Sukumi was far superior to her husband, and while Tokui had doubt in his heart, the memories of his mother's actions and her current words, managed to barely come through victorious.

Tokui woke up several days later in a Raitonbo base, patched up by his grandmother. Having gathered information about the Uchiha through rumors and hands on intel from back in the day, she suspected there was more to the Sharingan than Tokui, let alone herself, could currently achieve. Having this knowledge and medical experience, she preserved her daughter's eyes for his grandson to use. At first, he refused, due to his deep hatred of his mother and not wanting to do anything with her. But Sukumi eventually convinced him to try. To the shock of both, it indeed had an effect, quite an amazing one. Trying to think of it as the payment for all the suffering her mother caused, Tokui moved on with his life. Still wary of the fate of his clan, however, he continued to operate in Raitonbo from the shadows.

Powers:

Chakra: Tokui is a shinobi of good genes, with a large chakra pool, and a knack for utilizing it properly and rationally, as well as mastery in all its basic applications. Further enforced through strict training.

Physiology: His physical capabilities, even without chakra enhancing, are on par with a jonin's. Far from what an average human could achieve in any field.

Nature Transformation: Tokui is a master of three types of transformations. Lightning release, water release, and his inherited Kekkei Genkai, storm release. Being particularly skilled in the latter and subsequently trained in the other two by his father from an early age. He is also somewhat skilled at wind release. Finally, as an Uchiha with an Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan, he is skilled with genjutsu, but not much else of yin release.

Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan: As the owner of such eyes, Tokui is bestowed, other than with powerful genjutsu and outstanding processing/analyzing capabilities, with an unique set of abilities:
-Susanoo: A translucent, large avatar that forms around Tokui, consisting of a skeletal structure from the spine upwards, with some plates and a mask reminiscent of armor. It emanates an orange and blue aura, particularly present in the eyes. It is in its earliest stage.
-Benzaiten: Tokui's left eye's ability is an unique genjutsu. When active, Tokui's words have a commanding effect on the target, the simpler the order, the bigger the chance to succeed in being performed by the target. "Trip over yourself" or "Forget you saw my eyes" are examples of simple orders Tokui has practiced and can achieve success with most of the time. "Stab yourself with that kunai on the neck" or "Tell me what you know about…" are more complex and might require multiple uses of Benzaiten to be successful.
-Bishamonten: Tokui's right eye is an unique ninjutsu. He can charge chakra into his eye and manifest it as a powerful beam of energy that can be guided with said eye and can be ended in an explosion if desired. It can be fired from a point in Tokui's sight, or right from the eye for more power. With the direct eye version capable of leveling buildings. Recently, Tokui discovered that Bishamonten also allows him to use storm release with greater accuracy and more control, even after releasing a jutsu.

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Power limitations:

Chakra and physiology: Although large, Tokui's chakra pool is far from infinite. Same goes for his body's capabilities in general. Although great, it's far from what other Uchiha have achieved.

Nature Transformation: Other than in the three natures he exceeds, he has limited knowledge on the other's. With his wind release knowledge limited to some techniques for mobility. And as mentioned before, knowing yin release in the form of ocular genjutsu. He has no control at all over other nature's.

Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan: Although the techniques bestowed upon him by these eyes are powerful, they are quite chakra consuming and painful to use. And while getting his mother's eyes transplanted onto him eased the strain of the use of these abilities substantially, they are not chakra free, in terms of use.

Skills:
Ninjutsu - S
Taijutsu - B
Genjutsu - A
Strategy - B
Hand Seals - S

Weapon(s)/ Equipment:
An assortment of Kunais, senbons, smoke bombs and wire strings.

Strengths: Virtuous, focused

Weakness/ Fears: Other Uchiha
 

noob13241

Woop of Woops
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Name: Van

Age: 18

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Has not been orientated (Bisexual, but has no experience in either way)

Species: 17.5% fire, 16.5% dragons, 65% human, and the 1% Bard error margin (I've calculated it before, but he is not aware of the math). So mostly human

World and Universe they are from: Golarion- Pathfinder

Appearance: A tall boy who looks only about the cusp of adulthood, standing roughly around 6'6 in height. Skin lightly toned from sunlight, one can immediately tell from sight that he's got the build of a rogue. Baggy clothes, messy hair, and even if he's got some muscle on him, it is in a way that focuses on speed and dexterity more than raw strength.

At least, this is what can be said at a glance. Closer inspection would have others say otherwise though, as even though he's lithe, what muscles he has certainly are more than what a typical rogue would need, closer more to a monk than anything. Peeking out of his sleeves though and across his back is a set of tattoos that vaguely looks like a dragon, recognizable even beyond the...oddly malnourished look it has. Occasionally, that tattoo faintly glows at times.

One final note to mention is...well, combining his youthful look with his build on the thin side, as well as his hair being what it is...Van looks vaguely on the line of 'tomboy pretending to be a guy' territory of appearances.
Van.png
Personality: Paragons. People who have seen no greed. People who live for others. And those who would live and die by their justice and earned the respect of all those they have beside them, and even a little from their foes...Van is what one could consider being one of those paragons, but not from how one would imagine given his personality in pieces.

To put it bluntly, Van can only feel anger. No sign of joy. Not a smidge of sadness. All he has felt and experienced are either skin-deep or burning rage and there is little he has experienced since his childhood to adulthood that he would ever categorize as either something calming, something to ignore or something infuriating...but the fact that he can categorize those feeling is enough for him to be more than just a raging barbarian. It is not in spite of, but because of this emotional stuntedness that Van is uncharacteristically calm on most fronts, from his lineage to his job.

And it is only further because of this rage of his that he can understand others' anger more so. He may not be a paragon preaching love and peace, but Van is the one who can roar the anger of those brought low by hatred and war.

Born in the mountains north of Taldor, amidst a reclusive tribe of barbarians from the chieftain, Van would grow amidst...well, it would be accurate to call him a small fish in a big lake for how his environment was. While there may have not been anyone or thing specifically making his life terrible, he had to do his hardest to keep it at all. Watching and doing his best to match to those around him...

Until eventually he manage to catch attention for holding too much potential in his rage. And literally thrown out of the tribe to find his own path outside.

He wouldn't really thrive long, but would at some point encounter a man who could see eye to eye with the angry child. Perhaps not with the same fire in their eyes, but ones that burned just a hot...if only by being more tempered than bountiful. That man would be the one to bring Van into the underworld of the cities, as well as give him the name he uses now, traveling between Thieves' Guilds to Thieves' Guilds. Learning and experiencing a different life from his old one. Eventually, he would part from that life of thieving to wait out the heat from a job...and would experience what it's like to be an adventurer that time around...

Until he arrived here.

Powers (If your character has biotics, magic, a superpower, racial abilities, or anything that can be explained.):
Barbarian(?) Heritage: Van can carry roughly half a ton on his back and sprint like it's nonexistent for hours on end. And his sprint speed clocks in well above 150 mph. (1,500 ft in 6 seconds/per round for dnd terms, do not ask how. Just know it is possible to go roughly 3 million feet per round at maximum shenanigans)
Of course, a full sprint is usually not applicable, but even in regular combat speeds, he's moving roughly 15mph (150 ft per round. Which for context, regular trained fighter movement speed is 30 feet)

Other than raw strength and speed, he's certainly heartier than normal folk, but at least not beyond feasibility for those normal folk.

Dashing Rogue: Van may hold physical talent in raw monkey tactics, but where he shines truly is in one specific action. Taking things from others, as fast as possible.

Usually materialistic like stealing weapons or armor, but he's fully capable of working around it mentally to taking 'sight' (He pokes your eyes), 'movement' (tripped), the capability to fight back (You know that martial art stuff of paralyzing your opponent via pressure points? That, but limited to just a few seconds due to working this all by instincts and guesswork), or even a mount's '''weapon'''. (He just grabs the rider and runs)

And where the dashing part of his rogueness comes in is in stealing as much as fast as possible, as he is fully capable of snatching things in the heat of a fight and dashing away between targets, eventually ramping to speeds comparable to full sprint...although, most of that movement is gonna be wasteful, and realistically can only tag roughly 3 people in the span of 6 seconds.

A Calm Flame of Rage: His own brand of rage, Van essentially gets angry beyond the point of becoming more focused than normal. While other rages grant them more strength, his hones his motion. Others' minds become blind to ignore more of their wounds and injuries, while he focuses to notice things he couldn't before. (Effectively, barbarian rage for thievery stuff rather than...barbarian stuff)

Henshin Hero: This is...I'm just gonna flat out state it, Van can transform into essentially a Kamen Rider, so long as his rage hits a boiling point and he literally ignites (Like this) and he bursts into fire. In a matter of seconds, small rocky dragon/lizards also proceed to burst from him before slamming back onto his body as armor.

This form...only grants him two abilities for combat, as the armor's effectiveness in preventing damage is about equal to what he loses in rage through transforming. The first, is that his movement around effectively charges up his hit so that in the mayhem of running between targets, he doesn't have to just rely on stealing shit anymore. He can just hit them with basically point-blank shotgun slug fist (Only one time per movement, with roughly the same amount of tags as his stealing. Same hit and run stats, just with actually hitting here).

And the other ability is basically a special to put it in fighting game terms. After a while of fighting, he can pull go for a much stronger attack (usually suped up punch or kick), basically upgrading to a full-on rocket blast impacting a target.

Power limitations (The limitations of said powers, because nothing that will be accepted is limitless): While his physical stats may be exceptional, Van is not perfect in handling it. To say his body outgrew his skill is understating it by a mile, since if he attempts to put it to use besides already stated limits, he will 11 times out of 10 miss a target moving towards him. And even if he were to hit them, he'd probably sprain a limb in the process at minimum or completely dislocate something on average. (This is not included in his henshin attacks. Those aren't relying on his raw stats, that's just something built into that package)

His Rage on the other hand has a hard time limit of roughly 2 minutes total, which resets whenever he takes time to rest outside of a fight (Like, not full on sleep it off, but take a lunch break worth of rest) also shares its timer with his henshin. And his special is also often called a finisher. Not because of them actually concluding a fight, but because their charge time usually ends up clocking around when a fight is hitting its peak/nearing its conclusion.

Skills (D-Slightly Above Average, C-Above Average, B-Excellent, A-Master, S-Above Master, SS-Grandmaster): Bartending-A, Singing-B (S if he's doing it by instinct/not fully aware he's doing it), Hand-Hand Combat- C, Stealing-S, Parkour-B (If only because raw speed brute forcing running on walls)

Weapon(s)/ Equipment
Dark-Stained Gloves: Pair of pitch black gloves that allow Van to store items in his shadow. Appears equipped on said shadow and acts as if actually worn, and if wearing a bag or something similar, can store up to 50lbs of items in his shadow's bag.
(Note: Cannot double equip on slots (Armor on shadow either doesn't work or makes armor on body irrelevant. Similarly for artifacts and the like), and shadow-stashed weapons don't work for obvious reasons that shouldn't be stated)

Strengths: He is fast, and he can carry a lot of stuff. In a fight, Van is built for skirmishing, weaving through a fight to focus high priority targets and either messing them up, or just snatching important things before getting out.

And in the worst cases, he can do as his name says and live up to it. (Just hop onto his back and he is now an Escape Van. Yes, that is why he is named as he is v:)

Weakness/ Fears: His anger may be controllable to an extent, but Van is still a barbarian at heart, and even more so susceptible to going too far in letting his rage take the wheel. Even worse, there's no chance of him feeling remorse or regret over what he's done besides being angry with himself...which can lead to worse results than just regret.

Other: What Van can do is fully functional in a pathfinder game, so long as Sphere of Might add-on and Gonzo classes are allowed. His rage is called Serenity and it's a sub-class thing for barbarians.

As for his race...His pa is a mess of magic fuckery and is why Van can henshin at all, let alone rage as hard as he can
 
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Noble Scion

Lover of Lewd and space
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Genres
Fantasy, Sci-fi
Name: Ami'Lana nar Marin

Age: 22

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Species: Quarian

World and Universe they are from: Mass Effect

Appearance :
Ami_ref_sheet.jpg



Personality: An intelligent academic with an attitude that seems to imply that they're better than those they come across, particularly those of unknown or foreign species. Distrustful and self-confident with large amounts of ambition, yet holds an level of amicability towards those they meet, seemingly used to meeting many new people and preferring to keep deeper relationships at a distance in the frequent case of them leaving each other's company sooner rather than later, a reflection of their nomad lifestyle. They're clearly used to the praise of their peers and come to expect nothing but the highest level of effort to be put into their assignments, but on the flip-side, showing great disdain for activities beneath them.

History/Bio: An over-achieving quarian that's lived through the early stages of their life excelling in their education, similar to other quarians, setting out on their pilgrimage upon reaching young adulthood, which entails searching for a crew to call themselves a part of in order to gain experience before returning to their home fleet with a noteworthy gift, or staying with their newly found crew.

Ami's life was spent in a completely sterile environment from the day due to her people lacking a strong immune system, living their lives in suits to combat this, protecting them from disease. Her education during this time focusing on mastery of the famed omni-tool, a multi-purpose device crafted to adapt and interact with both the world and technology, combat, in order to become an ideal member of the home fleet in order to better deal with the many threats of the universe, as well as technology in general, ranging from engines to computers.

Powers: Ami's abilities come in the form of the Omni-tool, capable of flash-freezing enemies in close range, burning them with a flaming projectile, forming a physical blade for CQC, interacting with and repairing almost any technological device, or most notably, creating an automatic turret or forming a temporary shield

Power limitations: While varied in use, the omni-tool is vulnerable to EMP effects

Skills: A-tier Engineer, capable of repairing most any known device, or identifying some unknown ones by their makeup

B-tier strategist, effective for coming up with plans on the fly, but unlikely to take risks

B-tier combatant, effective at all ranges and unlikely to retreat or abandon a fight
(B in both guns and melee)

Weapon(s)/ Equipment:
Quarian suit - A resilient suit capable of filtering gas easily
M-96 Mattock - A mid-range, semi-automatic rifle
M-3 Predator - A heavy pistol

Strengths: Performs well under stressful conditions, focused, adaptable, impersonal

Weakness/ Fears: Liable to become infected should the suit become damaged, meaning emergency medical assistance and repairs would be required for lesser wounds. Likely to ignore the advice and suggestions of others that she does not agree with, selfish

Other: Doesn't have many friends, and is particularly self-conscious about it when brought up
 
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Noble Scion

Lover of Lewd and space
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Name: Bem, the one that no longer beelongs

Age: 19

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Curious

Species: honeybee

World and Universe they are from: homebrew xianxia world

Appearance:
Bem_Sketchpage.jpg


Slim and of short stature with prominent insectoid features, about 4'9" not including antennae, sporting a pair of wings packed tightly underneath the clothes due to how physically demanding flight is. They have long brown hair (fur?), and a fragrant, sweet smell around them. They're extremely light-weight, only weighing around 30kg. Her shirt is actually quite baggy on her, and struggles to contain the fuzz kept within.

Personality: Bem is a kind but naïve individual that doesn't know much about the world around her, having spent her entire life within a completely different society to even her own world's norm. She lives on her heart's will and tends to show compassion, but sports little self-control when things she desires become involved. She is trusting yet self-conscious about her misdoings in her home hive, having a small inferiority complex and believing others to handle jobs better than she could. She does not shy away from a fight if not given other options, and is even somewhat battle-hardened after fighting in inter-bee wars over territory disputes. Tends to respond to provocations with sadness as opposed to anger, preferring peaceful resolutions over combat after seeing the horrors of war.

History/Bio:
Bem lived in the hive, much like all the other honeybee members, performing their carefully chosen tasks by those that had been carefully chosen to carefully choose others for their own jobs. Bem had been chosen as one of the defenders of the hive, a mightily boring job, but one she had been elected to do due to her astoundingly average physical score and high dedication to the hive during their last territorial dispute.

The job consisted of guarding a rare, highly important substance known as "Royal Jelly", a substance rumoured to taste beyond heavenly and reserved solely for the queen bee herself. Bem, ordered to protect it from the queen's enemies, be they from outside of the colony or from within, did just that.

Rumours did as rumours do, and gossip spread like fire during peace time, with the populace's attention flickering from one story to another, with Bem being no exception, and as she flitted from one topic to the next during her free time, one stuck in her head all the while. A small ticket of gossip, crafted by some of the cooking department's lesser chefs.

They spoke of the royal jelly's divine taste, saying that they had tried it before, that the honey everyone else ate didn't even compare, and had never been caught for the treasonous act. It was an obvious lie, but Bem, not being the most intelligent bee in the hive, thought their words rang true, despite the entire process being guarded even more heavily than the jelly itself due to the increased likelihood that it would be stolen during its crafting stage.

Surely, if they were allowed to try it, why not she? She deserved it, she had spent several years of life standing merely meters away from it! She knew everything there was to know about her station, and everyone respected her for her services and efforts during wartime, so surely a taste wouldn't tarnish her reputation if even the chefs had tasted it? So one day, she simply.. Slipped inside during her shift, it couldn't hurt to merely have a taste herself, right?

She had doubled over in agony. It had been like taking a sip of liquid sun as it sept down into her unprepared body.

It should be known in the land of xianxia that everything contains qi, a mysterious form of energy much like mana, that has a countless number of uses, and what was not known to Bem, or the rest of the hive, was that the queen bee was a high-level cultivator. One who had gorged on the chakra-empowered royal jelly every day since her conception.

Bem was not a cultivator, and so, it was like forcing a raging waterfall through a small pipe. The reason it hadn't simply killed her on the spot was because in her time spent idling, she'd naturally begun the process all cultivators did, cycling. Achieving a sort of zen through meditation in order to expand the amount of qi she could hold while guarding the thing currently ravaging her insides.

The young bee couldn't even cry out from the pain as she instinctually cycled the energy into her system, as she usually did when she felt fidgety, though much less effectively through the pain, it feeling to be the natural thing to do.

After what felt like a year had passed, but was little more than a couple of hours, the intense burning had died down. Even such a small amount had hurt her so badly, she was confused as to why the queen ate the stuff every day, but she strangely felt invigorated and more.. aware than she had been.

Leaving the storage, she came face-to face with a group of the hive's equivalent of policemen, murder in their eyes. Her friend Bailey, the next guard, must've called them after seeing her inside.

Suddenly realizing what she'd done, she fled in panic, sprinting with much more agility than she remembered having as she escaped their grasp and found her way outside the hive, a massive structure of wax, and escaped into the forest, never to return.

Despite the new-found strength she found herself having, she felt miserable. Exiled from her home, and nothing more than a new story of gossip for her loved ones and those that knew her, an example of what not to do. She was disgraced.

She kept running, wailing all the while.

Powers: Qi manipulation and basic cultivation - Empowered strength, endurance, and an extended lifespan, with eventually the ability to use essentially magic. As of the beginning of her Journey, she's about as strong as an fully-grown athlete (one average bee person would be about the equivalent to an athletic teenager) It has countless uses, but Bem knows none bar basic cycling.

Qi Abilities - Being near to the beginning of her journey, Bem doesn't have many techniques, but her Qi is naturally aligned with Poison as result of her being a spirit beast. When imbued into her weaponry, it can poison and paralyze in about a minute to a clean, direct hit to a non-cultivator, debilitating them in the mean-time, while minor cuts would do little more than cause a sudden surge of dizziness. Uncurable to conventional medicine, it can only be extracted by trained cultivators, or other forms of energy manipulation.

This can be used in a free form manner, though it is much more exhausting to do so, such as by throwing an orb of the 'venom' or coating objects with it. It gives off a scent of lilac.

Flight - Though draining, all bee people are capable of flight via their wings

Stinger - She is capable of injecting a painful neurotoxin into her enemies via her stinger, causing a state of paralysis lasting about a minute, and pain lasting much longer.

Honeybee - Capable of producing her own honey as long as flowers are available

Power limitations: Qi - Qi is finite, and while it can be restored through rest, overusing it can result in blacking out, with higher level arts using more

Flight - as of the beginning of her journey, she can only fly for about a minute

Stinger - It takes several hours for her toxin to refill after use

Skills (Any skill your OC is particularly adept at, from swordsmanship, to piloting, to knitting should be mentioned here. Should also state their skill level D-Slightly Above Average, C-Above Average, B-Excellent, A-Master, S-Above Master, SS-Grandmaster):

Combat - B
Spear mastery - A
Tailoring - C

Weapon(s)/ Equipment (You may use pictures from any non-accepted fandom as a description, but all effects/abilities must be described. If it's any kind of technology, please give the specs.)
A regular spear, its durability enhanced through unintentional qi reinforcement over Bem's career

Strengths:
+Dedicated
+Honourable
+Eager to learn

Weakness/ Fears:
-Gullible
-Despite qi, she's still not superhuman
-Easily upset

Other:
 
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Noble Scion

Lover of Lewd and space
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Name: Larsa the Red

Age: 37

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Species: Human (Witch)

World and Universe they are from: Homebrew fantasy land

Appearance :
Larsa_sketchpage.jpg


About 5'7" in height

Personality: Overconfident and self-absorbed, Larsa does as she wants and most likely would have been a bandit in another life if she weren't so abhorrently lazy. Overindulgent, bratty, and quick to laugh at the misfortunes of others, particularly her two "friends" Darius and Seelie, though despite her constant mocking of the two underlings, she does hold some genuine affection for them, not that it shields them from her belittlement. Holds a constant "good mood" that tends to laugh and shrug off any problems, though once it is ruined, her rage is explosive and she is quick to move to combat. Hates being called "little"

History/Bio:
Larsa was an orphan, her father having left after being drafted to war, presumed dead by the village, and in turn, his daughter, while her mother tragically died giving life to her, leaving her in the hands of one of the village elders, a close family friend.

She always was a problem child, having a chip on her shoulder and having something to prove in village life, frequently getting into fights over small childish things, resulting in her becoming the primary target of the local bullies, always ending up in her running away to some hiding spot to cry, before coming back once again and repeating the process the next day, earning her the nickname "Little Larsa the Red" from how red her face got from all the weeping she did. Harmless things in the eyes of the adults, things that would sort themselves out with time.

Yet this went on well into the girl's teens, and she grew up petulant, jealous and angry, until one day after yet another of her usual childish tantrums, she didn't come back. The trend of her running into the forest and coming back after a couple of hours had become a bidaily occurrence, but the hours passed and the little Larsa seemed to have just disappeared.

They debated making a search party, but the consensus was that, as tragic as it was, nobody really cared. She'd probably been taken by some wolves or fae already, it was known to happen, even with most living in these lands keeping to themselves.

That was, except for the elder, her caretaker. Setting off into the night on his own, he searched for Larsa, fearing the worst and hoping to find out what at least happened to the young one, yet time passed and there was no sign, until he came across the strangest thing.

A small hut, with a warm light emanating from inside. He approached, and knocked on the door, only to be met with the sight of a beautiful woman, with Larsa behind her. He barely heard their words that came from the woman with how beautiful they were, forcing himself to fight back tears as he left the wondrous sound of such an angel, and made his way back to the village after the generous offer of the woman to take care of the motherless child, and who was he to disagree?

Of course, he had been enchanted. The woman was a witch, and had done the exact same thing to everyone else that had found her little shack. She kept an eye on the village, and followed along all the unconcerned lives of the mortals for amusement, yet the only thing she'd had her eye on recently, was little Larsa the Red.

A child in need of a role model, fueled by strong emotions, one that no one would care if they just.. Disappeared for a night, and oh so young. The perfect answer to her problem.

So they made a pact. She offered Larsa the strength and power to take the luxury she deserved, the life she wanted, for all of her strife to just.. Go away, and the teen was more than eager to accept, all in return for a small task for her to complete.

The witch was decades old, and could entrance villages on a whim, the world was at her feet and it didn't even know it, so what could a being like her even want? The answer?

Humour. She was bored, and the only answer was witch's humour, the reason people feared a witch being nearby,

Larsa was given power, blood magic after a short bargain with a demon, forbidden knowledge, and was tasked to sacrifice her village as payment, and she was more than happy to oblige, leaving the shack filled with hideous cawing laughter at the dry joke that Larsa's entire life had now become for the witch, a sick twist.

She even had popcorn ready for the occasion.

Larsa did the deed, and broke into a smile as she was filled with vindication, using her supernatural gift to do what was just. Years of agonizing taunts, repaid. The negligence of those older than her, answered, and not once did the smile drift from her face until she came across the one person that had given a single thought about her. She honored him with a quick death.

.. And So, Larsa the Red left, her name now holding a new meaning, brimming with demonic influence as she searched for a new home, eager to figure out just what she was capable of.

Darius was a War Moth. A fact he was proud of. His kind defended the violet glade and its sanctity from all who would dare step foot on it, be they treants or manticores or gryphons, none could match the ferociousness and skill of his kind.

Which is why when a human, a small one at that, made its appearance and declared that he would answer to her from now on, he burst into laughter, barely noticing a small nick as he simply shook his head.

"Young won, you mess with a creature beyond the strength of a hundred of your kind. As thanks for the laughter you have given this one, you may leave with your life." he boomed, before watching as the little human wisely left.

Returning to his duties of defense, nothing really came of the whole interaction. Though he did admit, after a couple of days, he began feeling a little strange.

A week later, he, embarrassingly, began complaining to his comrades of a cold he must've caught.

Three weeks later, he was beginning to notice a tremble in his legs.

A month later, the tremble had become a vigorous shake, his whole body feeling weak.

Two months later, he was unable to stand, finally brought to the attention of his companions.

Then, almost three months later, it happened. He blacked out, and disappeared, and when he awoke, he was in foreign clearing with the same girl as before, kneeling beside a large circle he now found himself in, covered in countless meticulously drawn runes, along with another human - no, a faun.

"W.. What?" was all his weakened self could manage as she managed to look around. The girl was coated in sweat as she took a knife to her hand, spilling her blood onto the circle, her mouth a constant blur of motions as she spoke incantation after incantation, her blood pooling, before slithering forward and seeping into his body through the same nick he'd felt when they'd first spoken. It had never healed properly, and he had never noticed.

Then, with a cloud of red mist, it was over. The days of his freedom had humiliatingly ended.

Seelie had left home. She hadn't gone far really, but she'd told her uncle that she was planning on spending a couple of months away, trying to see if she could put the survival skills she'd been taught to good use.

She'd spent a few days looking for a good locations to "set her land", yet no sooner had she found a nice spot, she'd been politely, albeit scarily, informed by some giant moth monster that she was close to somewhere important, so she'd made her way somewhere else, when she'd come across a strange woman, yet no sooner had she said hello to the human, they poked her with a sharp stick.

She'd burst into tears right away. How could they do that to her? She was just being nice!

So she'd run away to console herself, finding a nice river to sob by as she began her fishing ventures to soothe her wounded arm and shattered heart.

Her uncle had always told her that they were skittish beings, so really it had been her mistake, hadn't it? But really they'd over reacted, hadn't they? Though that one hadn't seemed even remotely apologetic as Seelie had run away, as far as she could tell.

These thoughts filled her mind in the coming weeks as time passed her by, drifting from the strange human to how tired she was. Perhaps it was the air? Maybe she needed to head home.

Yet as the weeks passed, the journey home started seeming like it would be too difficult, that she should let whatever was coming over her pass first, whenever that was.

Weeks turned to months, with it not passing, and soon enough, she went to sleep and woke up in a completely different place, somewhere she was ninety percent certain wasn't where she'd put her head down before.

She was in a circle, with one of those big scary fluffy things from before, and the mean woman that had poked her, yet this time, they poked themselves in the hand as opposed to her again.

Their blood did something terrifying, and began moving, towards her! She wailed as it seeped into her, wishing for home and regretting her decision to live out in the wild for a while.

She was overtaken by a cloud of red mist, and it was all over.

Powers: Rituals - Given the right materials, preparation, and a great amount of both effort and time, Larsa can do a great number of witchly things, such as cursing someone's lineage, blood-binding, communing with demons from the nether realms for some reason or another, making it rain, etc.

Alchemy - used in tandem with rituals, allows Larsa to create a variety of potions with a plethora of effects, including; (but not limited to) polymorphing/shapeshifting potions, health potions, poisons, or even love potions.

Blood-magic - Larsa is able to control her own blood and the blood of those she has bound into weapons such as blades or chains, to use as she pleases. In emergency scenarios, she can use this ability to prevent blood-loss. Larsa is linked to those she has bound, with her life and theirs being connected, allowing her to communicate with them telepathically, transport them to her, as well as temporarily "swap" control with their bodies.

Power limitations: Should any of those she has bound die, she will also die, and vice versa. Excessive use of blood magic, specifically her own, may cause her to faint as a result.

Rituals require numerous and varied ingredients, as well as potentially taking up days to weeks of both preparation and casting depending on the scale of the spell.

Skills: Flexibility- B
Unarmed combat - B
Management - A

Weapon(s)/ Equipment:

Name: Darius of the Violet Glade

Age: 74

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Species: War Moth

Appearance:
FHwydKFaMAcggGa.png


About the 6-7 feet tall and 9 feet long

Personality: Noble and courtly to all bar Larsa, whom he gives constant attitude to. Holds a good bond with Seelie in their shared kinship in being stuck with the witch.

Curse: Blood-bound: Bound to Larsa by blood, forcing him to follow her orders. Mute as a result, but able to communicate telepathically with Larsa and other bloodbound.

Powers: Flight - Capable of flying great distances, earning him the role of "Larsa's designated mount", to his annoyance.
Strength - On account of being a large

Power limitations: While able to fly for extended periods of time, even great beasts like Darius needs to rest
Name: Seelie Vernon

Age: 21

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Species: Faun

Appearance:
faun_person.png

About 5'9" in height

Personality: Shy and melancholic, prone to tears and often seeks comfort in Darius' fluff. Doesn't handle attention well.

Curse: Blood-bound: Bound to Larsa by blood, forcing her to follow her orders. Mute as a result, but able to communicate telepathically with Larsa and other bloodbound.

Powers: None

Skills: Survival - B
Cooking - C
Swordplay - D

Weapon(s)/ Equipment:
A simple fishing rod she made when she first arrived at Larsa's forest, and a broadsword

Strengths: Amazing Memory, long temper, multi-tasking

Weakness/ Fears: Overindulgent, rude, smug
 

Noble Scion

Lover of Lewd and space
FOLKLORE MEMBER
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Genres
Fantasy, Sci-fi
Name: Harper Jules

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Species: Harpy

World and Universe they are from: An ocean-dominated world, harboring many pirates

Appearance:
proxy.png


About 5'4" in height

Personality: Harper is talkative, cowardly, and easily intimidated by just about anyone or anything that could potentially threaten him. Skittish and weak-willed, unfaithful, and even somewhat selfish after being surrounded by pirates for so long, as he expects the worse in people and is used to having to find his way to getting what he wants without conflict despite being treated more like a pet than a person. Driven by an insatiable hunger for learning, for a harpy, he's strangely comfortable around people despite being the way he is as opposed to his much more animalistic, bordering on feral brethren. Holds a strange pride in himself for surviving in his cowardly ways, and has a limit to how much mocking he's willing to take, though his temper usually results in tricks afterwards and babbling in the moment, almost never holding grudges, the perfect victim.

History/Bio:
Harper Jules, the name of someone that had always found it difficult to find their calling, was a strange harpy, for instead of undergoing the typical lives of harpies and spending their times as nomads, travelling the world on their wings and sticking to the open skies, he instead elected for the life of a priest, as his love of books brought him to their large libraries and unlimited wealth of knowledge.

He prayed with the others in the great temple of the prophet, studied with the others, lived with the others, evangelized with the others and attended the ceremonies with the others, all only to get the few hours a day where he could sate his lust for the crisp words of ancient authors, to understand their thoughts.

It was a simple life-style, with every day boringly similar to the last, but to young Harper, while fulfilling at first, the charm of it would soon drift away. It was all so very.. Slow. His search for books had brought him to the religion his hometown was so proud of, yet he simply couldn't deal with the sheer lack of proof for their praising the logic they recited failing to be anything other than empty words, or the tedium of their daily rituals, which frustrated him greatly as time went on.

He began saying throwaway comments things to his fellow priests, his friends, things that aired on the unholy side of disbelief. At first, they were passed off as nothing but slips of the tongue, but the frequency was too alarming, and it did not take long for the book-loving creature to face confrontation.

Jules was taken before his superiors, his own friends testifying against him, A meagre mess of feathers was brought into the court as his tongue had apparently gotten the best of him, and was ruled with the somewhat harsh punishment of imprisonment within the church's repentance area for two months for disgracing the sanctity of their lord, giving him the opportunity to re-find the light that he seemed to have forgotten about.

The temple's penance centre, however wasn't incredibly well-designed, as such crimes were incredibly rare and it was held in almost exclusivity for priests in repentance, and the idea of a holy man truly attempting an escape was.. Incredulous.

The idea had been that Harper would be brought back to the light after spending some time in the dark, but he didn't intend on sticking around long enough to do such a thing.

The harpy knew magic, a common thing for his kind, though it was rather primitive from his lack of consistent practice, he managed to escape with its aid, involving a short battle with one of the un-prepared "guardsmen", which was little more than another priest armed with a small rod and was set to leave what had been his home for years, yet before he left, he made a mistake that seemed so minor to him, but would hold repercussions for his future.

Jules stole a couple of books from the library, as the knowledge of his heresy hadn't become wide-spread yet and his face was seen frequently at the place anyway particularly at night, in a petty attempt at getting back against the church. He took three books, each holding an immeasurable value by the simple difficulty of getting them as each had only a single copy, and resided in the Temple of the Prophet exclusively, despite their rather unimportant contents.

Jules was gone by the end of the night, now on the run as both a heretic and a thief, seeking a more free lifestyle, with a taste for thievery and a hunger for knowledge, becoming a pirate with ease, despite his timid and cowardly nature (due solely to the fact that he worked for food and whatever books they came across as opposed to money), and has lived that way ever since, surrounded by, in his eyes, bullies.

Powers:
Flight- Harper can use his wings to fly
Owl vision- As a result of being a harpy, Harper has incredible precision when it comes to viewing something farther away, and can even see in the dark
Owl hearing- Astoundingly accurate and prone to hearing the slightest sounds
Magic- Harper is able to create and manipulate the elements to a small degree, primarily being proficient in wind and ice magic, with earth and fire not being useful for combat and fitting more for utility cases for the bird

Power limitations: Flying is difficult in areas with stagnant air or no air-flow, and he has a weaker physique with lower strength than most humans thanks to the naturally light bodies of harpies to allow for such flight. Magic is also tied to his stamina, Harper can't cast many big spells without overexerting himself.

Skills:
Book-keeping: S
Memory: A
Map-reading: S
Analytical skills: B
Planning proficiency: S

Weapon(s)/ Equipment:
Clawed- Harper has both talons and claws should it come to a brawl
Glasses- Being far-sighted, Harper struggles to see anything up close without them
Cardinel bell- A unique bell crafted for him as a result of him being the first (and probably last) harpy to become a priest

Strengths: Surprisingly likes to help, kind and friendly when not being belittled, and tends to be proactive albeit a little more reserved when calm, offering ideas or ways to help depending on the situation.

Weakness/Fears: Jules is a hoarder at heart, with a tendency to take anything with something written down for himself if left unattended, and greatly fears the things he's stolen being taken away from him. Unreliable when stressed, and is easily stressed, being liable to saving his own skin over others

Other:

Can rotate his head 180 degrees, so don't try sneaking up on him
 

Noble Scion

Lover of Lewd and space
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Name: Erin, The Tarnished

Age: 27

Gender: female

Sexual Orientation: bisexual

Series: Elden Ring

Canon: Elden Ring

Species: Untarnished (Human)

World and Universe they are from: Elden Ring (Elden Ring? Elden Ring.)

Appearance:
E-D6K_qVQAQHpq3.png



Personality: Serious yet eccentric, used to people being motivated by their own reasons as the majority of the lands she's travelled through have been full of hollows or soon-to-be-ones, at least in her eyes. Somewhat snappy and defensive when asked about her history.

With compassion and companionship being almost non-existent, she's grown somewhat cold-hearted, always ready to lend a hand, but ever expectant of a reward outside of mere "friendship" due to the persistent and always looming threat of going hollow. Outside of that, surprisingly apathetic to cases she finds herself unable to help, death, insanity, and betrayal are far too common to her eyes and it shows, and views everyone to be as self-serving as she is.

History/Bio: Erin of a nameless place, a common-born young woman that grew up parentless thanks to the countless monsters and other creatures roaming the world.

Growing up alone, she found herself finding her role model in the form of the noble knights of her home, and soon set to work joining their ranks, becoming accepted into their numbers as soon as she came of age, the occasion marked by receiving a sword and shield, both of which she still uses to this day.

Spending her life defending the lands she called home became her being, and though it lasted her years, it was not to last she, like many of her companions and even parents before her, found herself compelled by the "flame of ambition" to seek the elden ring and become the elden lord as many tarnished did.

She has since spent that time following this goal, strengthening herself despite not having a maiden through skill with her weaponry.

Powers: magic-capable - potentially able to use pyromancy, sorcery, miracles, and hexes, but as of the creation she would be considered a "quality" build (equal amounts of strength and dexterity)
- Uncanny proficiency in all manners of weaponry
- Runes - The ability to grow stronger after every kill, allowing for access to anything ranging from swords to sorcery
- The crimson flask- A magical flask that reinvigorates the one who drinks it. Can be refilled at any bonfire/Grace, or failing that, a hot enough heat source.

Power limitations: Finite number of spell casts in the form of focus points (essentially mana), with equipment being stronger the more she has specialized into it (e.g. her spells would be weaker if she's using something heavy like a greataxe, or if she's using both miracles and sorceries they would both turn out weak)

Skills (Any skill your OC is particularly adept at, from swordsmanship, to piloting, to knitting should be mentioned here. Should also state their skill level D-Slightly Above Average, C-Above Average, B-Excellent, A-Master, S-Above Master, SS-Grandmaster):

Fighting - S
Exploration - B
Smithing - A

Equipment: A variety of swords they swap between on the fly, a shield, some leather pants, gloves, and greaves.

Strengths: Fearless when faces with seeming insurmountable odds

Weakness/ Fears: selfish- Having lost everything, she fights for nothing anymore except for herself
shameless- once a proud knight, Erin no longer has the sense of prestige she has, choosing whatever she finds most effective over what's most acceptable
 

BlackRoseDova

The Dova
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dbz8rit-f2ccfeee-f085-485d-ba67-9d921ad66b25.png

(Not my own work. Belongs to Deviantart Artist "ryky" who does phenomenal work like this).


Name: Runin Das Möngömaa (Mongo/Rin)


Age: 16


Gender: Female


Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual


Species: Human – Gran Pulsian


World and Universe they are from: Final Fantasy XIII


Appearance:


Mongo stands at approximately five foot two with a build that is focused on upper body strength, particular in the lower back and abs. On the back of her left shoulder blade is a tattoo of a silver lobo, signifying her being of an appropriate age and training to own and ride one with the rest of her clan. On her right arm is a tattoo of Clematis, an airborne monster that she hunted when she came of age. Both tattoos are done in bold, black ink, and bear the styles of the Runin Highlands, an area of Pulse far to the West of Oerba. Meanwhile, on her right hand is her L'Cie Brand, freshly reset to a new Focus. Her hair is a dark brown and kept generally at shoulder length, where it typically fluffs outward on the sides. Wrapped into the hair that frames her face are two sets of beads, reminiscent of the ones worn by the people of her province when they went to war. Her eyes are blue, edging more towards the lighter end of the spectrum than the darker.


Physically, Mongo is through the physical rigors of puberty, but still bears some of the acne that comes with it on her face and back, though she has attempted to draw attention from this by painting markings under her eyes that are more akin to tear streaks or claw marks. Anything to keep one's eyes off of the pimples.


Starting out, Mongo wears a long one-piece jacket that is folded over on the left side of the chest. The sleeves of the coat only go to the elbow, and small pockets are woven along the right breast. While the outer material is a sturdy cotton, the interior material is more of a quilted fabric to maintain warmth in the colder areas of Pulse. Underneath the jacket is a simple cotton undershirt and trousers. A set of sturdy boots complete the look, while a leather belt adds both the ability to keep one's pants up and a space to hang pouches from.


Personality:


[+]


Mongo falls into the category of people who are extremely driven to achieve their goals, no matter the cost. This comes part and parcel with being a L'Cie, but Mongo expressed these traits long before she was chosen by Ramuh.


Growing up in the rural Runin province of Pulse, honesty was a trait cultivated by her parents given their poor economic status and the general dog-eat-dog world that Mongo lived in. Dishonesty led to conflict within the community, and that conflict could lead to their family unit getting overtaken by the monsters who called the mountains their home.


Due to both her upbringing and the events that pushed her to become a L'Cie, Mongo has an eye for self-improvement in most capacities, especially as they might relate to her Focus. Personality defects are prone to being brushed off due to her age, but the all-consuming fear of becoming a Cie'th prompts her to take to heart any criticism that might help her achieve her Focus.


[=]

Mongo's driven nature can lead to her becoming hyper-focused on one thing at a time, typically leading to positive results in whatever the issue is. However, this entails a problem with multi-tasking, and an inability to properly segment her attention between different goals.


Growing up with three brothers of varying ages, Mongo adopted their patented sarcastic banter, often earning a laugh or a quick jibe from a friend, but also often landing her in trouble with her parents or other adults in her family.


As stated before, Mongo is intensely goal-oriented, but a solid portion of this behavior comes from trying not to think about the loss of her family. Classical avoidance behavior dictates that she moves from one goal to the next, keeping her mind off what truly troubles her. This leads to a lot of different jobs getting done, but also a lack of personal momentum for her own baggage.


At the end of the day, Mongo suffers from something of a pride issue when it comes to her choices. It's an honor in her culture to be chosen as a L'Cie by their protector, Ramuh, and Mongo is not one to suffer an insult to her decision. The expectations of her people weigh on her shoulders, prompting aggressive, prideful behavior when questioned or demeaned.


Competition was a common element of Mongo's childhood, whether it was with her brothers, her friends, or even her fellow budding hunters. Competition is something that Mongo understands and pushes others to partake in, sometimes to her own detriment. No conflict can't be resolved through some measure of competition in Mongo's mind.



[--]


Returning to Mongo's drive, there are elements of her behavior that can be considered self-destructive. The resolution of her Focus or intended goal can, at times, willfully come at a physical cost to herself. When her family died in the initial volley of the War of Transgression, Mongo threw herself to the Fal'Cie for the opportunity for vengeance, no matter the cost it would have on her future. When she was put through the training regimen onboard the Arks, she would often push herself beyond her limit, forcing another L'Cie to intervene on her behalf.


When pushed away from her sarcasm, Mongo has the tendency to become blunt and insensitive to situations going on around her. This can land her in hot water with more empathetic characters, as her bluntness and lack of a filter can antagonize an emotionally precarious situation.


Since the death of her family and the events that followed, Mongo has been quicker to anger than she's ever been before. Some of this could be credited to becoming older, but more of it is tied to her perception about the world and her place within it. In classic teenage fashion, Mongo is angry at the world, except unlike most teenagers, she has good reason to be.


In relation to her focus on goals, Mongo has a terrible habit of dehumanizing people who stand in the way of her job. Get in her way too often, antagonize her too much, and Mongo will file you under the category of obstacle, or even worse, active threat.


While Mongo struggles at time with self-improvement, yet is susceptible to it, she is often judgmental towards those who are not equally as set on improving themselves. When Mongo does something wrong, she gets mad at herself for getting it wrong. People who do not share a similar mindset are often ridiculed by Mongo for this perceived weakness.


History:


Mongo was born in the Runin Highlands, an area of Gran Pulse several hundred kilometers to the west of the Archylte Steppe and its surrounding areas. Consisting of mountainous areas, dramatic seascapes, fertile farmland and even a notable bog or two, the Highlands were a place of wandering family units supported by a network of small independent towns. While the towns consisted of people who sought out a more sedentary lifestyle, the people of the highlands were known for being nomadic. Historically, some settled over Gran Pulse's history, but an amiable relationship existed between both groups. The nomadic groups maintained their way of life and traded animal skins and valuable natural resources to the sedentary communities for goods and services they either did not have access to or could not easily replicate.


Of these two groups, Mongo was born to a nomadic family unit that hunted for a living, trading meat and pelts for crops and medicine when the need arose. At times, they would be requested to hunt a particular pack of monsters that were troubling a town's crops or walls, often trading their services for shelter when the winter came.


Mongo's life was relatively traditional for a person of her lifestyle. It takes a village to raise a child, and in this case, Mongo's entire family had some hand in her upbringing. From her mother and father, she learned the shared history of the Runin people and what it meant to live as a member of her tribe. From her uncles and aunts, she learned how to hunt monsters and skin them for pelts. From her brothers and cousins, Mongo learned how to exist as a child within her clan, and where her place was in the social hierarchy of her people. From her grandparents, old as they were, she learned how to read, write, and do basic arithmetic.


At seven, Mongo began to go on hunts with her cousins, as was clan tradition. At age ten, Mongo undertook her rite of adulthood and successfully hunted a Clematis in the Tikany Bog. By thirteen, Mongo and her brothers were common faces in the local towns when it came to selling pelts or taking jobs to hunt specific animals. Mongo's life was a simple one, and not one she could have seen changing.


However, Man plans and Fate laughs, as her situation changed at the age of fifteen when, while on the hunt for a behemoth, Mongo bore witness to the opening volleys of a conflict that would later be known as the War of Transgression. Instigated by Cocoon, Mongo watched from the side of a mountain as ships of unfamiliar origin landed in the village that her Clan was trading in. From a distance, the violence that occurred was hard to miss, and by the time that Mongo made it back, all that remained was a smoldering ruin. Of the dead that remained recognizable, one of them bore the markings of Lindzei and Cocoon, imagery that her parents had always told her to fear and associate with the moon that humans were historically tricked to.


It would take several weeks for news to spread and disseminate properly, but the people of Pulse would soon come to learn that they were officially at war with Cocoon and its Fal'Cie. Mongo, like many other people, would turn to the Fal'Cie of Pulse for help as Cocoon forces continued to attack different provinces across the planet. For some, this choice came with the knowledge that their sacrifice was necessary for the future, but for Mongo her choice came with the drive to avenge her family. The future didn't mean a thing to her when her family were dust and ashes and her people's way of life had been annihilated.


Mongo would ultimately seek out the Fal'Cie that controlled the weather in the Runin Province – Ramuh, also known as the Old Man of the Mountain. A gargantuan Fal'Cie in the shape of an old man with a pipe, it was he that controlled the weather for several hundred kilometers. It was he that called down the rain for crops, and he who annihilated human settlements who poisoned the air with industrial waste. At sixteen, Mongo was branded as a L'Cie, and was given a vision of Ragnarök, a gargantuan monster that would tear down Cocoon.


From there, she traveled to Kutha, capital of Gran Pulses' humans, and joined up with the quickly assembling military. Whereas before, humans of Pulse had felt safe behind their defensive armaments, the attacks by Cocoon's forces proved that playing defensive was not enough. The people of Gran Pulse needed to strike back, and fast. For months, Mongo trained in one of the Arks with other L'Cie to build up her power and to prime her for a war on Cocoon's surface while Pulse's unbranded military did what they could to buy her and the other L'Cie time. Finally, three months after arriving at Kutha, Mongo was sorted into the general L'Cie forces that would be waiting for a smaller group of L'Cie to make a hole in Cocoon's shell, allowing the rest of them and Pulses' military to counterattack the invading force and create a bridgehead on within enemy territory.


On the eve of Disaster, Mongo bore witness to Ragnarök's summoning and the destruction it wrought, sundering Cocoon's outer shell, and giving Gran Pulse the opportunity to finally counterattack. With Cocoon finally being opened, Mongo, as well as hundreds of thousands of other Gran Pulsians took advantage of the opening given to them and attacked. Hundreds of transports, thousands of fighters, and tens of thousands of humans rushed forward to defeat their enemies, only to seemingly fall into a trap planted by the Fal'Cie of Cocoon. The landing of Pulsian forces on the moon of Cocoon was brought to a halt by dozens of Fal'Cie and their associated L'Cie; to say nothing of the pre-existing defenses manned by the slaves of Lindzei.


In the chaos that ensued, Mongo's transport, like many others, was shot down in the skies within Cocoon and sent crashing into the wilderness. In the aftermath of the crash, Mongo and the surviving crew were beset upon by L'Cie from Cocoon. Ultimately, all but the Pulse L'Cie were killed, and Mongo and the rest of her L'Cie partners were separated and imprisoned deep within Cocoon's superstructure.


There, endless tortures abounded as the Fal'Cie of Cocoon attempted to force the Pulse L'Cie to turn into Ragnarök for an inexplicable reason. Every avenue of torture was utilized, and many L'Cie died in the process. This was to be the end of Mongo, until one evening her brand seemingly reset. A new vision came to her, and by the morning, her cell was strangely empty…


Powers:


As a L'Cie, Mongo has access to the latent magical powers that all humans have in her world. By being branded by a Fal'Cie, Mongo can not only easily access these powers, but also utilize a more focused iteration of them. Magic for a L'Cie falls traditionally into six major paradigms, with a L'Cie traditionally having access to three, and some having access to more. A L'Cie can only use one paradigm at a time and must actively swap between them to gain access to the different branches of abilities.


These branches of magic go as follows
• Commando – Associated with magic that does physical damage and boosts one's own naturally produced physical damage (such as through a weapon or a physical blow)
• Ravager – Associated with elemental magic such as Fire, Water, Wind, Lightning, and Ice and their associated elemental consequences.
• Sentinel – Associated with defensive magic that boosts protections or forces an enemy's attention onto oneself.
• Synergist – Associated with magic that directly buffs companions, making them faster, tougher, stronger, more resilient to various effects or adding elemental effects to weapons
• Saboteur – Associated with magic that debuffs opponents, making them weaker, slower, less resilient, or outright interfering with the ability to utilize magic
• Medic – Associated with healing magic, curing of illness or status ailments, and bringing recently deceased people back from the dead.

Presently, Mongo only has access to the Ravager, Saboteur, and Medic roles, and due to her brand being reset, she only has access to the beginning abilities.

• Ravager Spells
o Blizzard – Ice elemental damage to a single enemy
o Fire – Fire elemental damage to a single enemy
o Aero – Wind elemental damage to a single enemy
o Thunderstrike – Thunder elemental damage dealt through Mongo's bow to a single target
o Aquastrike – Water elemental damage dealt through Mongo's bow to a single target
• Saboteur Spells
o Deshell – Reduce magical resistance and deal non-elemental magical damage
o Deprotect – Reduce physical resistances and deal non-elemental magical damage
• Medic Spells
o Cure – Heals one target, reducing pain and restoring vitality upon contact

Power Limitations:
• Only one paradigm can be used at a time, and a two to three second cooldown is required before swapping again.
• While in one paradigm, Mongo cannot use another's abilities without first swapping
• To properly utilize her magic, Mongo needs one to five seconds to properly charge up one to five spells, one second per spell. If she waits the full five seconds, then she can release all five in quick succession. If she releases her magic at three seconds, then she can only chain three spells together.
• Mongo's magic comes directly from the L'Cie brand and the crystal eidolith implanted in the back of her right hand. If one could inhibit the brand, one could inhibit her ability to use magic. However, directly removing the limb would only prompt the brand to shift somewhere else, as the brand is tied more so to her soul than to her physical body.
• Anything that would interfere with crystal-based magic would directly interfere with Mongo's abilities, due to the crystal eidolith that Mongo was implanted with.

Skills
• Hunting and Tracking – A
• Fishing – B
• Trapping – B
• Archery – S
• Skinning – A
• Survival – B
• First Aid – B
• Knife-Fighting – C

Weapons:
• Airgetlám – a recurved composite bow composed of wood taken from the Runin Highlands, with horn and sinew taken from a slayed behemoth. On the bowstring is a small silver ring, worn through centuries of use. Mystically followed her through for an unknown reason.

Strengths: Hunting, survivalist activities, ranged combat

Weaknesses/Fears: Never properly avenging her clan, losing Airgetlám, burning to death.
 

Wade Von Doom

All Caps when you spell the man's name
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. Speed of Light
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Writing Levels
  1. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
Genres
Sci-fi, modern, horror, a bit of dark romance stories.
Name: Alec Duggan

Age: 28

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Species: Human

World: Mass Effect

Appearance:

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His attire away from the armor is more with a variety of military T-Shirts, blue jeans or military fatigues if he's on the job, along with a sweet leather coat given to him when he first joined.

Personality: Unlikable. He's a....... NNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERD!!!! And he's a fuckin' goof as well, the ediot.

Alright, being serious, he is a good guy. He's very social, outgoing, easy to talk to, helpful to people in need, an all around good person who wants to do his service as an alliance soldier. He is a goof, but it comes down to bad luck, as he's always finding himself in the worst possible situations. The man can't catch a break sometimes, and it can get to him. He can get easily stressed out, get overly angry when his nerves are high, and possibly has an anxiety disorder he never got diagnosed with, because he will gladly speak first, think second when his dander's up. But, under all that, there's a man wanting to do good, and whatever faults he has, he wants to show they don't define him as a soldier. But he's still a NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERD! And no one likes nerds, him with his comics, video games, movies and TV shows. Get a life, you nerd!

History: Born in Aberdeen, Scotland, Alec had a pretty normal life for a man with such bad luck. His mom and dad were both police officers, with his dad having served in the military as an engineer in the Alliance navy. He grew up by the shore, right next to the water, went to public school, had a Shetland dog for a pet, even went to sailing lessons once he got old enough. He admired and loved his dad greatly, finding him a childhood hero for the story he always told.

When his mother was pregnant, his father was diagnosed with a tumor in his brain, and it had progressed into stage 2 cancer. It's location made it hard for him to get surgery to remove it, as if surgeons weren't careful, they could potentially make him brain dead. Going on medication to shrink the tumor down, he was sick for nearly three months and looked like he was on his death bed.

When they finally removed the cancer, the lights were on and nobody was home, as they say. He looked terrible, he wasn't reactive and didn't look like he'd made it out of the medical coma. Fortunately, he managed to wake back up. His sense of smell was gone, the side effect of the surgery, but he would make a complete recovery in the next few weeks. A month after, Alec was born.

For Alec, it was an inspirational tale. His dad survived brain cancer! The man was strong willed and didn't let the odds get him down, he thought to himself, and he wanted to be like him. Problem was, Alec was kinda shit. While he had a good education, he frequently got in trouble for fights at school, and in his later years as a teen, Alec grew a fondness for drinking and partying. On one of these nights, Alec was busted for drunken disorder, as he tried to take a piss in the bushes of someone's front lawn, without realizing there was a cop car watching him do this. In trying to run, he ended up falling into the bushes, which were filled with thorns, and ended up covering his ass and crotch with cuts and marks.

His dad bailed him out, and while he tried not to, he was disappointed in Alec for his behavior. His little wide eyed boy was being a drunken idiot, preferring the life of the constant party. Then the worst news came. The cancer had returned, shifting down into his spinal cord, and unfortunately he needed to undergo surgery yet again. The chances were even more slim, but his father took on those odds yet again..... He didn't make it.

The day the funeral happened, Alec was nowhere near the grave, only visiting it after everyone had left. He wanted to be alone with his father. Since that day, Alec cleaned up his act, studied more in school, graduated university, and joined the Alliance navy as a soldier on the HMS 'Glasgow.' He's a damn good soldier, though he still enjoys a party or two, he just tries not to drink too much..... He doesn't always succeed.

Powers: None

Limitations:

Skills: His weapons and melee skills are a solid B, while his goof skills are S

Weapons: He keeps a shotgun and assault rifle, both of which are standard issue Earth manufactured. He also has concussive shots, Disrupter ammo, incendiary ammo, and frag grenades.

Strengths: Good fighter, good friend, and NNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD!

Weaknesses/Fears: Has a fear of falling. He knew signing up for a ship meant being in space, so height in the problem, but after a bad accident where the dropship crashed into earth, he doesn't like going down too much, so if he feels like he doesn't have control when going down, he'll have a small panic attack. Also, very unlucky, you might've guessed that.

Other: NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRR-- You get the point.
 

BazusoTheGrey

Edgebabby
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
  1. Multiple posts per day
  2. 1-3 posts per day
  3. One post per day
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Preferred Character Gender
  1. Primarily Prefer Male
Genres
Fantasy (Both High and Low), Scifi and Cyberpunk
Name: Oliver

Age: 21

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Asexual

Species: Human

World and Universe: Projectmoon-verse (Library of Ruina & Lobotomy Corp)

Appearance: Due to needing a quick cash infusion for various reasons, Oliver had his body replaced with a full-body prosthesis at the age of 18. His height is currently 5'9 which he prefers but can be changed with different parts.

His prosthesis is light gray, with parts coming from a variety of workshops and tailors. The most expensive part of his body is his torso, due to its nature as a reactor. His head is a lot more stylized, resembling a cyclopean helmet fused together with a respirator (which is entirely decorative). His arms and legs however are some of the original parts of the prosthesis which was originally a cheap steel shop set. They are much rougher in terms of quality and shape in comparison to the rest of his body, although they have been modified to be able to keep up with the rest of Oliver's body.

His outfit is the standard for Downpour Office: A navy-blue raincoat over a buttoned-up half-canvas, double-breasted black suit. The raincoat is worn unbuttoned to allow the lapels of the suit to show, which displays the emblem of Downpour Office stitched onto it: a stylized raincloud with a sword pierced through it.

Personality: Years of living as an orphan and a Rat in the backstreets have made Oliver somewhat numb to the sufferings of both himself and his fellows, being at ease with and around acts of violence, cruelty, and killing. He is casual and crass in most social interactions and may unwittingly come across as rude due to using unneeded language. Despite this, he is professional whilst working, and is a poor liar, making him somewhat trustworthy.

Outside of the workplace, he doesn't have much going for him. Hobbyless and with few connections outside of workmates and networking with other Offices, Oliver prefers to work endlessly, only really resting and repairing when he needs to prepare for another mission. Despite all this, he's not a bad sort.

Oliver's story is a fairly common one in The City. Born in the Backstreets of District 13 during the tail end of the Smoke Wars, he spent the first few years of life in a musty room with parents he barely remembered. Around the time that he could start walking around on his own, his parents had disappeared, either because they walked out on him or they got their carcasses picked apart after they walked down the wrong alleyway. Regardless of what happened to them, it wasn't long until he was forced out of the room by the building's landlord. Homeless, he joined up with a gang of fellow street rats, and through scrounging, thieving, mugging, killing, organ harvesting, and a whole lot of luck, he and a few of the other kids managed to get to teenagerhood.

Life didn't really change after that. Sure, there were more opportunities to make a bit of money since Syndicate gangers or other shady figures in the backstreets would take you seriously enough to give you a couple simple gigs, but with the price of food and other needed goods to survive a day, there simply wasn't any way up when you lived in the Backstreets. You just kept on going until you snuffed it. For Oliver and many others, that was a simple fact of life, and for the majority of his life, Oliver accepted that fact with apathy, mostly. Somewhere, deep within, a small part of him yearned for just a little bit more in life. So, against his better judgment, Oliver began to save up what little he could from odd jobs and crime. Eventually, he'd get lucky after a Backstreets doctor offered him a pretty tempting deal... give up his body to be interred in a shitty metal replacement for a hundred thousand Ahn.

For many others, the deal would be and is an incredibly shitty one. With a cheap replacement body, you'd lose all senses except sight and hearing, and the amount of money that the doctor offered wasn't anywhere close enough to the price of the various cheaps, drugs, or replacement parts needed to cope with living in a walking deprivation chamber. In every way it was a bad deal... one that Oliver still took.

What was the harm in losing all feeling, when life was pain from the get-go? What was the point of having those senses if he was trapped in the shitheap that was the Backstreets? How could any of those senses compare to even the slight chance that he could pursue something worthwhile in life?

After he left that doctor's clinic, the first thing he did was enter the closest Hana Association Branch and signed up for a Fixer license. It was a stupid plan all things considered. He was untrained, undergeared, and most importantly of all, the requisite fees and taxes would render him penniless. But he went through with it anyway, and after passing the physical exam, he signed on with the Zwei Association and was shipped off to Section 6. Things had started to look up from there, being a Fixer paid well and he didn't have to pay as much for food and other items, and as long as he kept things safe, he had a stable source of income. He even managed to move into a better apartment, although he never really did much with it. But despite everything, he still didn't feel satisfied. After the first couple of contracts, he took, work opportunities started slowing down. Most of his jobs were boring things, such as finding a lost dog, killing a random Rat, patrolling an area, or even just walking around to look menacing. Being promoted to Grade 8 didn't feel like anything special. It seemed like he was still missing something, even after getting somewhere, there was still nothing left to do but keep on going till he snuffed it. So that's what he did, coming into work, doing a pointless canard job, going home, coming to work, doing a pointless canard job, and going home again over and over. For two years, Oliver repeated the process. Life had become routine again.

Then oh so suddenly, that routine was broken as a glorious light flooded the skies over The City for three days, then leaving it in utter blackness for four. The White Nights and Dark Days were what people called it, three full days of bliss and four days of deep sadness.

When Oliver experienced that light, that bliss, the small force inside him grew tenfold, even as the Dark Days came and went, that flame inside of him seemed to only get brighter. It craved that feeling of elation, that feeling that would surely have left his heart racing if it were still there. And once again, luck graced Oliver with an opportunity, in the shape of The Pianist, the distortion that annihilated a chunk of District 9's nest. Soon enough, contracts began pouring in, demand for Fixers was at an all-time high and supply was precariously low. Soon, the Association's Section 6 branch was abuzz with work.

He began to take jobs above his pay grade at a rapid pace; simple Canard jobs became Urban Myth, then Urban Legends and Plagues. Instead of saving, he began to spend on anything that would make him better at his job. Augments, weapon upgrades, new tools, better clothes, he spared no expense on anything. Spurred on by that feeling and his newfound momentum he succeeded. In the span of a couple of months, Oliver had managed to be promoted to Grade 5, a feat that others would have spent years accomplishing. Spurred forward by success, Oliver was eventually recommended to the Grade 2 Downpour Office after he managed to impress one of the Directors in Section 4.

The Operator of Downpour Office was a crazy bastard that shared Oliver's sense of pace. Almost every day a new contract would come in, each different from the last. Bodyguarding against Shi assassins, Expeditions into the Outskirts, Killing random distortions, the works. The fire inside was satisfied, but it was never fully sated. There was still that urge to hurl himself headlong into the dangers of his profession to take risks and to do stupid shit like trading out your body for enough cash to start somewhere. He himself didn't know why that urge existed. Every rational part of his mind told him to slow down, to be satisfied with his newfound wealth, and to live quietly in relative comfort.

Sadly, no good thing lasts forever. He was nearing the start of realizing his reason to fight when Downpour Office received what would be its last contract. A mission that required them to engage with a Star of The City. The Library, a massive tree-like structure that had appeared in the ruins of L Corp's Nest, six months after its destruction apparently held information that a client desperately needed. Accepting the contract and the following invitation to get where they needed to be, Downpour Office would disappear as just another casualty in The Library.

Thinking about it, it's honestly pretty funny how I ended up here. Like, way back when I was a Rat, you just didn't have any opportunity to go up in the world, you know? Sure you'd sometimes get a bit a money off some unlucky schmuck who took a wrong turn in an alleyway or get deals from one of the more sane Syndicates, but they never really built up to anything you know? As a Rat, you sorta just drift through life, stressing about whether you'd have enough to scrounge up a meal or some cheap short-lived comfort cause you just ain't got a future in The City. Even when I started my Fixer career, there still never really felt like there was a point in doing anything.

So yeah, I lived like just about everyone else, just... in this sorta apathetic funk, like some sorta shitty robot, working through the motions and waiting till it was my turn on the chopping block. That's just how it is in The City so what can you do yeah?

I'd probably woulda kept going on like that if it hadn't been for those White Nights. Now that... was a beautiful sight, The entire City just bathed in light as if some god came down personally handing out blessings or some crap. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life I think, just witnessing that happen. My workmates didn't seem to understand or really register that beauty, that hope, but shit, even when the Black Days came after, I couldn't stop thinking about that feeling I had like I had something to work for, to build for.

That feeling's actually the main reason I'm even here I think. See, before that day I was a Grade 8 Fixer with barely anything achieved outside of a... pretty shitty case that I seriously don't like to think about. I was nothing right up until that light graced the sky. Pretentious, I know, but that's the truth.

Anyway yeah, after the White Nights and Black Days, I just started feeling like I had to start doing more shit. So I just started taking jobs, literally anything my boss would give me. Hell, I even started going Solo Office for a bit on the side. I still don't know why honestly, but it felt good, to do something that actually leads somewhere. Even had a couple of jobs that got shared around in Fixer bars. Let me tell you, hearing someone actually talk about what you did is a fucking weird feeling, if not entirely bad.

That's around the time I got into Downpour Office. See, the Director in Section 4 liked me hauling ass, and she had some connections with a high-ranked Fixer starting up his own Office. Told him that I was a good worker, and had some drive in me. I only ran with them for a few months but damn me for a liar if I said that those days weren't the best days of my life. Jobs every single day, combat heavy ones too, sometimes even with guys we had to bodyguard. Felt like a Color sometimes with the amount of insane shit we were pulling off. But things never last forever. Now we'd just gotten a contract requesting info on a very important group who got sent to this here Library. Since you're reading this book, you probably know the rest. Really, when you assholes were saying shit like, "Win the trial or else become a book" I didn't think you literally meant turning into one.

But hey, that's just how it goes I guess.

Oliver's Page is basically a reference to Library of Ruina's mechanic to read through the life of an enemy character after defeating them. It's there so that you can read through his thoughts on why he's going through life and him briefly thinking about his history. I wanted to experiment a bit so it's a bit iffy I think.

Basically, after the ending of Library of Ruina happened, he just got revived in the RP instead of The City

Rats are the name for common thugs and gangsters found in The City
Syndicates are more powerful gangs that have control over various parts of the city
Offices are practically small PMC groups that fulfill requests from the mundane to the surreal.
Fixers are the members of Offices.
Operators are the head/bosses of their offices.
Associations in the Projectmoonverse are basically large-scale Offices that oversee various works, such as policing, warfare, banking, weapons making, etc
Powers (If your character has biotics, magic, a superpower, racial abilities, or anything that can be explained.):

Robotic Body: Because of his decision to sell off all his organs and body parts, Oliver not only made money but also got a replacement body to boot. As a result, his body is durable and resistant to most forms of weaponry. After various modifications and Augmentics from workshops, it also has the to strength allow him to lift 200 lb with ease. Heavier weights run the risk of breaking down his body. His body runs off a miniature bio-reactor bought for an exceptionally high price from Gardens Atelier, allowing him to shove carbon-based items such as meat or typical fuel.

Ronin Workshop Augments: Augments originating from a workshop specializing in speed and agility. Modifications to his brain have allowed him to have quick reflexes and reaction times a step below bullet time. Additional modifications to his limbs make him much faster and more agile, allowing him to pull off surprising feats of speed.

Stahl Tailor Augments: Augments originating from a Tailor specializing in basic gear for rookie Fixers. A simple modification to Oliver's body has added reinforcements and paddings that make his body bother stronger and more durable.


Power limitations (The limitations of said powers, because nothing that will be accepted is limitless):

Robotic Body: Aside from installing tactile sensors into his hands and feet, Oliver can't feel anything with the rest of his body and cannot register smell or taste. He has used augments to ignore the needs and wants of his brain, but if something psychic were to overload those augments, then he'd be disabled due to the neural overload. He also needs to resupply the brain fluid and blood in his head every half a year. Because he cannot feel, he may not notice that he's getting attacked unless he checks. His strength is also locked into what his Robotic Body is capable of, and while that can increase with the use of augments or modification, he is soft-capped at lifting up to 200 lb and hard-capped at 400lb. He will also die if his reactor is destroyed, his head is destroyed, or he runs out of blood or brain fluid to keep his brain in shape.

Ronin Workshop Augments: His augments all drain stamina and power from his reactor, causing him to need to fuel up or act slowly after using it too much.

Skills:

Zwei Association Swordstyle: A
Bodyguarding: C+
General Swordsmanship & Footwork: A
Dodging: B
Tanking: A

Weapon(s)/ Equipment:
Rook Workshop Zweihander: Oliver's trusted Zweihander. It was received as a promotional gift during his days as a Zwei Fixer. Rook Workshop specializes in general upgrades and modified his sword to be both incredibly durable and have monomolecular sharpness. Additional modifications from Workshops focusing on 'Living Weapons' has allowed Oliver to have increased prowess while using the blade, making its use as natural as swinging a limb around.

Downpour Office Uniform: Made by Knecht Tailor, Oliver's uniform was built to augment durability, reaction times, and overall survivability through its use of a special lining made from parts harvested from the Outskirts. Higher Quality than most other Office Uniforms, the Downpour Office Uniform can be used to shield clients from Fixer Grade weaponry and even provides minor protection against bullets. About as effective as plate mail, impervious to conventional melee, and protective against smaller pistol calibers, with rifle rounds being able to punch through it.

Thunderbolt Workshop 'Stun' Baton: Based on Oliver's sidearm during his time in the Zwei, his new 'Stun' Baton was commissioned from Thunderbolt Workshop which specialized in supercharging electrical currents. The 'Stun' Baton acts more like a mace with the capacity to fry nervous systems and break bones in equal measure. The electrical effect is adjustable but Oliver prefers the max setting. While durable due to it being a Fixer Weapon, it can't stand up to things that his Zweihander would shrug off.

Strengths:
Generally used to things he'll face on the job
Good at shielding other people's bodies if needed
Is used to standing against heavy odds. Tends to not think of retreat as an option unless told.

Weakness/ Fears:
Tends to not think of retreat as an option unless told.
Fear of Spiders, specifically, robot ones.
Fear of Raves
Cannot use guns at all, partially because of the heavy restriction on them in The City and partially because he prefers the sword
Psychic power can unleash all of his mechanically repressed emotions/instinctual desires, causing a full breakdown

Other: Likes cacti
 

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