This mah stuff.

So You Want to World-Build?​

Whether it be Westeros or Middle-Earth, the esoteric planets of Hoth, Tatooine or Alderaan (bad example, I know; rest in peace), or the winding passageways, hidden rooms, and tricksy staircases of Hogwarts, stories take place somewhere. That somewhere - the world - helps frame the story, but it also does so much more than that: It gives readers information while also inspiring them to imagine, answering and raising questions in turn. It offers continuity from plot-point to plot-point, allowing the story to grow and immerse its reader. It defines the tone, the spirit, the essence of the story.

But it's no small ask either, building a mosaic of a world to hook your readers (or fellow roleplayers) in - it requires that you think, and that you ask questions of yourself. As you'll come to discover, a crux of world-building is asking yourself questions and coming up with acceptable - hopefully compelling - answers. Naturally, this is a lot of work. So, let's get down to the first step of building your play-pen.

How do we get started with world-building?​

1. Genesis (or, the Spark and How a World Begins)

To begin, I'd like to propose that, instead of diving in bottom-up or top-down, that you work off a spark (alternate analogy that's actually an analogy; you water a seed).

What I mean is: If you're planning a story, or a roleplay, chances are you already have an idea(s) in mind, no matter how vague. You want to start with that. Perhaps the idea is simply a thing that you want in your story; superheroes, perhaps, or angels and demons, or killer robots. Perhaps a tone you want to capture; dark, grimdark, or full of the wonder of discovery. Maybe you're one of those functional literarians; you want to make a world in which you can critique the real one and all (or just one of) its issues, political/societal. It can even be simpler than that - maybe you saw a pretty picture, and you want to turn it into a roleplay.

That's all good - that's the spark.

The iconic 'Dune' began with author (and world-builder extraordinaire) Frank Herbert's wanting to address Western society's desire for a messiah. After a few years of research on the topic, he wrote an article about the USDA controlling sand dunes in Oregon, and that's when it clicked for him. Could there be a more perfect place for a Messiah to rise than in a world of harsh sand dunes and awful, awful desert?

What Frank Herbert did is what aspiring world-builders should aim for - to have an idea, and then to idealize the proper world around it. The first step is to have the spark - the idea. The next is to start making a world that can allow for the idea to exist, and to thrive.

2. Ignition (or, Feeding the Spark)

I'd posit that there are two types of worlds you can create, which I'll label as the Alternate World and the New World. I suppose there's a third that you can roleplay in, which is simply 'our world' (which, by the way, is vast and interesting and requires a lot of research if you want to know all about it - and is also a wonderful place to have a story in). When you first start building a world, you'll want to figure out which type you're going for.

Let's dive into the concepts of the Alternate World and the New World, keeping in mind our initial idea(s), our spark.

The Alternate World​
This, I think, is what I'd always aim for if I'm a newcomer to world-building, or if I'm just trying to lay a groundwork down for a roleplay. Frankly, it's also the easiest (and arguably the most effective) way to go if your idea is very singular in scope: 'I want superhumans' or 'I want to critique such-and-such political governance and style of rule'.

Why? Because the Alternate World is what you get when you take our real world, and apply a question ('what if there were superhumans, or what if we did fall under such-and-such type of rule?') and its ensuing implications. The goal is to take your central idea, mash it into our world, try and figure out how things would tick differently (and what things just wouldn't work at all), and present it - conditions of a world that allow for our idea to happen. This is important: haphazardly tossing a concept into the world without prior thought will break immersion, and suspension of disbelief.

This is probably best demonstrated with a walkthrough. Let's go with the question 'What if there were superhumans?' You start with that one question, toss it into our world, and you try and answer the sub-questions that come out. To begin with, let's start with the most general of questions, one I consider essential.

1. "Why/how does this happen?"

Answer: Perhaps they were placed into existence by some sort of deity or God-Machine. Perhaps they spawned from vats, the product of scientists.

Stop there. You might have noticed that both of those answers beget even more questions: 'Why did this deity/scientist do this?'

This will always happen, and in fact, you should go out of your way to find the questions that spawn out of your answers. The questions above, you'll note, can also pose more questions of their own. If we want to know why the deity did something, we need to address something crucial: "Who is the deity?" If the scientists did it to create super-soldiers for their country, we also need to know why - "why does the country feel threatened? Is the country at war?"

One question, that quickly splits into multiple paths, multiple answers.

So which answer should you pick? A good measure is probably: the one that interests you more, the one that you find more compelling, the one that you want to explore. Also pertinent: one that won't clash with a previous answer.

Questions call for answers, and answers call for explanations and even more questions - as I said earlier, that's a crux of world-building. It is, however, important to note: we don't need to answer all the questions, because we'd run out of time and die. The more questions we answer, the more breadth and depth we give our world, but if we're just making a reasonable enough play-pen for RP partners, it could be more prudent to answer the most essential questions, winging any that come after.

Without further ado, some very general questions (and example answers, over-simple in nature) that should be addressed as a starting point. Keep in mind that 'xxx' can be more than one matter, one concept at a time.

  • How does xxx happen?
    (Superhumans have come about thanks to the meddling of science.)

  • Why does xxx happen?
    (Our real world has a lot of conflict/tension. This alternate world introduced superhumans to serve as precautionary super soldiers).

  • How could xxx go wrong? Does it?
    (Super soldiers retire or run off and - recognizing the possibilities - end up becoming supervillains.)

  • If it does go wrong, what are the consequences?
    (Supervillains cause terror, chaos, and destruction - but superheroes rise to stop them.)

  • How does xxx change the way the world looks?
    (You got flying cape-wearing super-dweebs lighting up the sky.)

  • How does xxx change the way the world works? This question is probably best split up.
    • How does xxx change the world/country's infrastructure and core systems?
      (Superhumans marginalize non-superhuman law enforcement. The United States, perhaps, is instituting an *ahem* League of Justice that can mobilize and respond to the gold ol' fashioned 9-1-1 dial.)

    • How does xxx change the world/country's culture and views?
      (Superheroes - and maybe they have another name like 'Superdupers' - are revered, sometimes worshipped, even collected in the form of action figures and comics. Superhumans are at times envied, despised - yet many affluent folk line up to have their future children engineered into supers.)

    • How does xxx change the world/country's politics?
      (Genetic procedures are eventually outlawed - creating a black market. Perhaps certain politicians run off a platform of envy and bigotry towards the Superdupers.)

*The questions in Point 3 and 4 are fun ones that touch upon issues that lay outside of this guide's scope (namely, ways of creating plot-conflict in stories).

Putting those answers all together, we've come up with a (fairly uninspired, I know - it's just a start) world of superheroes and supervillains that is both similar and drastically different from our own world, and with quite a hefty bit of potential for conflict and plot-hookery. The questions above should serve as a nice minimum baseline for your Alternate World, but always remember that you can and should go deeper, because what you come up with could surprise you!

  • How does xxx happen? (Superhumans have come about thanks to the meddling of science.)
    • How did they do it? (Genetic engineering and splicing.)
    • But surely it couldn't have gone that smoothly? Any issues? (A failed batches of human-experiments spliced with animal DNA have lead to a sub-race of feral were-creatures that terrorize Southern U.S.A)
    • A bit of a tangent from point 1, but… Southern U.S.A, you say? Why? (... okay, Shizu, maybe, uh, Florida is the American capital of superhuman creation and genetic engineering?)
    • Normally the thing to do is ask why, but this guide-writer is feeling lazy. (godbless you)
  • Why does xxx happen? (Our real world has a lot of conflict/tension. This alternate world introduced superhumans to serve as precautionary super soldiers).
    • Which nations in our alternate world are in conflict? (Let's say, Nation 1 and Nation 2).
    • Have both these Nations managed to engineer superhumans? (Yes!)
    • Did they do it in similar fashion? What were the differences? (Nation 1, being technologically and scientifically superior, had a significant lower mortality rate. The vast lives lost in Nation 2's experimental processes are regarded as a dark tragedy: 'The Lost Generation'.)
    • Let's go whole-hog, which Nations have access to superhuman research? ([Insert List Here])
    • How do the nations that don't have superhuman sciences begin to deal in this new world? (Mostly, they hope and pray to avoid conflict, while doubling research efforts. But maybe, just maybe nefarious governments loan out the services of black-op superhumans, and supervillains serve despot dictators for $$$).

By digging slightly deeper into only two questions, I've managed to conjure up a variety of crucial world elements and plothooks! Notably, we've also gone substantially darker in tone.
The New World​

And then there's times when you just want to start a world from scratch - entirely new, not just an alternate version of our world, rooted in the fantastical. Like Tolkien's Middle-Earth or the various Dungeons and Dragons settings (the Forgotten Realms, Eberron). This is typically a more involving way to go, as you don't have the luxury getting to use the real world as a base (although, often you'll find yourself drawing parallels). While starting from scratch seems intimidating, it's doable, and with the same tenets we've spoken of previously.

That spark, that idea that you had to begin with, it becomes the starting point. The planet Arrakis started as Peter Herbert's "perfect birthplace for a Messiah", while Tolkien's Middle-Earth came about when he had first developed his iconic fictional language and expanded.

Let's once again approach the idea of 'the world having superhumans'. Here it's not so much a 'what if' question you apply to a version of the real world, it's a starting block that you work with. Perhaps the dominant race of people have superpowers, or perhaps it's an oppressed minority race, which begs the question of how exactly superhumans are being oppressed and-. Yes, again, questions, the crux of world-building.

Except, without the real world to use as a base, you need to ask some bigger, harder questions. Simply to help get you on your way, here are what I'd consider to be the two largest questions. As before, we'll try and provide sample answers to help build our theoretical superhuman world.

1. How does the world work?

In this context, I'm not referring to politics, or economics, or the laws of man. I'm simply referring to 'what's the natural order'? The laws of nature? The laws of physics? This is also where one would try and establish the laws of magic, if the world is magical in nature (magic and magical systems in fiction, unfortunately, is something that requires its own guide).

The ideas of deities and creator gods also come into play here - the question of 'how did the world come into being?'

Also remember that so many of Earth's characteristics - day and night cycles, seasons, land-to-sea (or some other creepy liquid) ratio - for example, are unique to Earth. Many imaginary worlds, particularly in the fantasy genre, choose to use Earth-like characteristics, but deviating could create some very interesting imagery.

[Sample: While special laws of nature and physics could be neat, using Earth-like laws could make it all the more apparent that superhumans are, in fact, 'super' to our readers. Let's stick with that!

We'll also skip magic and creator gods for now - although perhaps in another story we could have our superhumans molded and placed into the world as 'Chosen Ones' imbued with magic. If we wanted our story to be more sci-fi, perhaps we could go with more sciency non-Earth traits, but let's say we'll tend towards more fantasy here, and go Earth-like!]

2. Who inhabits our world?

What's alive here?

This includes the flora and the fauna - imaginary worlds often come with their imaginary ecosystems and vivid bestiaries.

At the base level, most crucial are the sentient species that our characters, our plot-drivers belong to. Pick some races, think of the role you want them to fulfill in the story, and by extension the world - later, you'll have to flesh out their appearances, the regions they're found in, their differences from region to region, dress, customs, their history.

[Sample: So, leaving flora and fauna for a later date, let's work from what I already have as my spark - the superhumans. We could have a world full of them and go for some huge scale fantasy superhuman wars, but let's go another route: superhumans as an oppressed minority race.

Naturally, we also need an oppressing race(s) - someone to serve as foil. Some shadowy-wraith figures, perhaps, or a society of stoic, impassive overseers. Whichever you choose, you've established two core races.]

Now, those are two very, very general questions - and as I stated in the Alternate World section - questions beget answers that beget more questions. Making a new, wholly imaginary world is a tough thing, and there'll be a lot of questions you have to answer - but I hope that this is a start!

Conclusion (or, a Handy Dandy Primer for Starting to World-Build)
  1. Focus on your 'spark'.
  2. Decide if it'll work best in an 'Alternate World', or a 'New World'. Alternate Worlds allow you to use the real world as the core basis, but hone in on the implications of one or several new ideas. New Worlds allow you start from scratch - with all the potential for exploration - and ball-aches - that creation entails.
  3. Ask questions of yourself regarding this world. (The most general and entry-level of which are listed above.)
  4. Ask more questions, dig deeper.
  5. Constantly grow!
 
  • Nice Execution!
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I've heard it theorized that all the world loves an artist - an author, an illustrator, a painter - for one reason: they're a Godly - or rather, Godlike - people.

After all, they create worlds.​

Maybe that's the pretension of the artiste speaking, or maybe it's the nature, the overwhelming desire of the consumer, desperate to transform paint-strokes and written-word into something wondrous. Ever since the digital age, and the advent of virtual reality, pretension and desire has fused into one central conceit: the creation of a new world, a new reality, perfect and whole.

Altera was one of three.​

A second world, presented through a polarizing medium - a game. Many noted the triviality of it, to apply such grand aspirations to something so frivolous. Some even viewed it as arrogance. Nonetheless, we pressed on because we decided it had value. Years and years later, cycle after cycle, Altera became real. A game set in a fantastical world, each and every single one of its players able to access, to feel, magic that had been lost to most of us. A world in which we were characters - protagonists - free to create our own story.

And all was well…

except…​

we were escapists…​

Selective realism: one of the core concepts of stories, of movies, books and games. We allow the endless skies and upside down mountains of fantastical worlds to distract us from the grey of our own bleakness, indulge in stories of chain-breaking heroism to forget the hardships that oppress us. No one truly wants a second world, not with all its calamity and monstrosity - we only wanted a dream, one we could retreat to whenever we wished.

But something has gone horribly wrong…​

It had always been our intention, but we never fully understood:

Altera is real.​

CORE SETTING

The First World Altera
  • The First World is known as Earth.

    That we ever came into being is nothing short of miraculous. Particle after particle gathering in an accretion disk, forming a world of volcanic matter and ocean unable to sustain even the simplest speck of life. Happenstance and the unfathomable occurred, bringing unto this primordial world of ours water, oxygen, bacterium, life, and us.

    'Us' as it happened, may have been a terrible mistake. From nomadic hunter-gatherers to antiquated rulers of fiefdoms and conquerors, to industrialists with a penchant for the despotic, to exploitative drones of the cyberage. We have been typically unkind to the world, though we sometimes argue that the world is in turn unkind to us.

    Few subjects encapsulate the concept of 'Us' as succinctly as the life and near-death of Magic. The first confirmable practitioners existed amongst the warring Xiongnu tribe, breathers of fire and controllers of stone who required Emperor Qingshi's construction of a Great Wall to stop them. They would spring into existence in more and more continents. They were manipulators of the elements who brought about wonders, their brilliance leading to the Industrial Revolution in the year 921 AC. The story of 'Us', however, is a story of wasteful exploitation - these Magi have been near-extinct for almost a century, worked to the bone and drained to husks by our thirst for acceleration and growth.

    Now, their penchant for the wondrous has been supplanted by the digital.

    The current year is 1412 AC, the Cyber-Age.
  • [Details expanded on in later section (later post)]

    Altera is one of three cyber-realities, their creation a priority both as a matter of science and as monument to natural human arrogance. Simulacrum, where time was accelerated and the environment selectively tampered with to forecast human influence on Earth; Providence, a test-world created as proof of concept and perfected as proof of capability; and Altera, a world fashioned by the artistes, and a game, a fantastical escape for the masses.

    Altera is molded in the image of Earth, pervaded with fantasy elements; an inordinately high presence of magic, creatively drawn and designed monsters, ivory castles and ebony high-towers. Players interact with magical world and esoteric NPC, encouraged to commune with others, explore, or to take part in combat-ridden adventures. 'Bosses' exist to vanquish for treasured weapons and armor, to assist in the vanquishing of stronger opponents - an addictive cycle that feeds itself.

    It is, however, not merely a game - it is marketed as a second reality (without, thankfully, the possibility of dying). Monsters exist within the contexts of carefully curated ecosystems, while castles and tower erode beneath the torrential weight of storms. NPCs have thoughts, feelings, and emotions, as do the various 'Bosses' - each bestowed with their own backstory and grand ambitions.

    Altera's log-out function faltered two days after launch, stranding its players within the cyber-reality.
 
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WORLD-MECHANICS

Progression System Death
  • In theory, the developers of Altera understood the benefits of a 'level' system, rewarding the players for time spent and repetition. Fundamentally, however, they understood that using such a system would be immersion-breaking in the context of the cyber-reality.

    Progression is holistic - the player feels themself improving upon repeated practical usage, perceives the learning of new skills as a stroke of inspiration. Instead of levels, Players identify each other as 'Beginner', 'Intermediate', or 'Advanced'.

    The developers of Altera - in line with most games - intended an accelerated growth process; where abilities and spells that would seem to, logically, take years to master can be learned with one or two days of focused playtime - 'grinding'.

    Ever since Altera became, for lack of a better term, real, the growth process has changed. Advanced spells and abilities are learned at slower rates, from weeks to months to years, depending on the current skill of the user. This has caused the power-balance of Altera's player to stagnate, players who invested much of their time early on becoming vastly stronger than their peers.

    Progression in Altera can also be witnessed through the accumulation of loot, and the gaining of 'achievements'.
  • The exact details of Death in the new world are currently unknown. Obviously, the game of Altera did not call for such - when a player was defeated, they would simply re-awaken at the nearest hub-city, or where they were when 'resurrected' by a Lux Talisman (see Skill-System).

    Now, however, those who have fallen are nowhere to be found, failing to re-appear at any of the hub-cities. Furthermore, the game's resurrection spell no longer seems to be usable, the bodies of fallen Players simply disappearing instantly.

    Conversely, the bodies of NPCs remain when they die, although they are also unable to be resurrected.


Sub) Skill-System

The fantastical game-world of Altera enables its players to perform feats of magic and combat otherwise impossible in the First World. The game of Altera allowed its Players to specialize in two of six 'Skill Categories', one Primary specialization, and a Secondary specialization to denote a lesser amount of skill. The selections would augment their in-world character, and enable them to learn relevant abilities.

As Altera became 'real', the Players have become subconsciously capable of learning abilities and growing towards capabilities from Skill Categories they had not chosen as their specialization. With a bit of self-discovery, they will have entered the beginning stages of removing the shackles of a Skill-System.

For the purposes of Character Creation, players are encouraged to use the Skill-System and selection of specializations as a way of conceiving something creative, a method of differentiation rather than conformity. The Skill Categories are intended to be somewhat open to customization and the flavoring of the player/character, and vague enough to encourage highly varied applications. Additionally, combinations of specializations seek to work along with that philosophy in order to create new possibilities.

The six Skill Categories are as follows:

Warrior Magus Crafter Talisman Enthraller Enchanter
  • Skill Category-Warrior represents a superlative level of athleticism, the extreme training of the physical body, and high levels of proficiency in weaponry. Those who choose 'Warrior' as a specialization begin the game with high levels of certain physical traits, and advanced skill with certain classes of weaponry.

    There are multiple versions of the Warrior specialization, one of which must be selected. The Warrior specialization may be chosen multiple times, enabling the selection of the remaining versions. They are as follows:

    c6vI4V4.jpg

    Warrior-Hashashin: The player is a natural gymnast and incredibly mobile, being blessed with superlative speed, acceleration, agility, dexterity and balance - veering into the superhuman at more Advanced stages. They have high proficiency in combat forms that require swift reaction, nimble movements, and some degree of fine control; many one-handed weapon styles, dual-wielding, daggers and short swords, ranged weaponry, and whips.

    Warrior-Glacier: The player is a rock, a mountain, a fortress, bestowed with incredible amounts of strength, stamina and constitution - veering into the superhuman at more Advanced stages. They have high proficiency in combat forms that are either heavily defensive, or full of brutish might; sword and shield, bludgeoning and flailing weapons such as morningstar, axe, mace, etc.

    Warrior-Druid: The player is uniquely attuned to their bestial side, capable of morphing into a variety of beast-forms. Advancement in this school is typically represented by the vastness of one's repertoire, and the manner of creature-forms one can assume. The most rudimentary Druids can morph into wolves, cats, and bears, with the most Advanced among them able to assume the form of magical creatures, in turn gaining access to their various magical abilities.

    Warrior-Xo Paragon: The player is uniquely attuned to the internal energies that flow within him - whether that be called 'ki', 'chakra', or 'mana'. The only weapons known to the Paragon are his body and mind, although that in and itself opens possibilities. They are uniquely resistant to spells cast by equal or lesser combatants. They are also capable of channeling their internal energies to wreck havoc through their strikes, able to slow/cripple opponents by striking their pressure points. At more advanced stages, they are capable of Wuxia-like skills, running through air to reach their foe, or healing grievous ailments through pressure point.
  • Skill Category-Magus represents the ability of the Player-Character to generate, bend and manipulate the various natural elements of Altera. Those who choose the specialization 'Magus' begin the game with the ability to perform rudimentary spells of a certain element, while also gaining a supernatural resistance to the element.

    There is a version of the Magus specialization, one for each of the natural elements, one of which must be selected. The Magus specialization may be chosen multiple times, enabling the selection of a second element. The elements are as follows:

    PnEKq2Y.jpg

    Magus-Hydro: The player is adept at the manipulation of water and ice, elements versatile in their potential for offense and defense, subduing enemy mobs with flood or protecting oneself with a wall of ice. As a general rule, water is considered more easily manipulated than ice, with the latter requiring a great deal of patience and concentration to maintain at the early stages of proficiency.

    Magus-Aero:The player is adept at the manipulation of the winds and storm, capable of generating gentle breezes to - at higher levels - veritable tornadoes. As a general rule, winds are considered more easily manipulated than storms and electricity. Electricity is difficult to manipulate, but is known to generally be the swiftest-striking of the elements.

    Magus-Pyro: This player generates and bends the flames, the most volatile of the elements. Those who bend the flames may eventually call down infernos and storms of flames. Even at the lowest level, flames are easily spread - making it a dangerous element to face, or wield.

    Magus-Geo: The player is adept at the manipulation of earth and flora, able to create tremors, call for barriers of stone, or entangle enemies with vines. This sub-specialization is known as the most defensively-oriented, being capable of creating tougher (and less meltable) defenses than the Hydro specialization.
  • Skill Category-Crafter represents the ability of the Player-Character to create and alter objects well beyond the usual restrictions of material quality, or the laws of physics, nature and magic. Crafters are amongst the most flexible characters as they can equip themselves for a variety of situations and encounters, utilizing items that are almost functionally akin to magic.

    There a multiple versions of the Crafter specialization, most of which represent the crafter's focal point, one of which must be selected. The Crafter specialization may be chosen multiple times, enabling the selection of another version. They are as follows:

    N1thpS7.jpg

    Crafter-Tinker: The player is adept at the creation of 'consumables' - one-time usage objects such as grenades, bullets, arrows or potions - that fulfill specific, esoteric purposes. In many ways, they can be functionally akin to magic, although the downside is that they typically require time and effort to create and replenish once used.

    Crafter-Hammer of God: The player becomes as if Hephaestus at his forge, capable of crafting wonderful weapons and armor, enhanced by magic. Players belonging to this specialization distribute a pool of magical potential over their creations, meaning they are typically limited to crafting such for themselves. However, these creations are amongst the finest in the world of Altera, bestowed with special properties.

    Crafter-Machinist: The player becomes intrinsically capable of fashioning machinery and vehicles ahead of the game-world's timeline; airships, for example, and steam-powered wagons. Machinists are highly capable of fashioning 'faux-life', steam/magitek-flavored drones and subservient androids to assist them in matters of combat. Machinists create perhaps the most sophisticated creations, and this translates to a long preparation process.
  • The Skill Category-Talisman represents the player's ability to bend the more 'divine' aspects of the Altera world, namely the light and the shadow. Unlike Skill Category-Magus, their effects are often more abstract and less tangible, although no less potent.

    There are two versions of the Talisman category - Lux and Umbra - one of which must be selected. The Talisman specialization may be chosen twice, allowing for the selection of the other.

    e8ph76h.jpg

    Talisman-Lux: The player becomes adept at the manipulation of light-magic, a versatile school. The school is most associated with beams of light, swift movement, vision-related spells, illusions and, most commonly, healing. High-level practitioners of this school were formerly able to resurrect the fallen, although as of the events of the story, this appears to no longer be possible.

    Talisman-Umbra: The player becomes adept the manipulation of shadow-magic, a school as versatile as its opposite. The school is most commonly associated with compelling the very shadows to move and even solidify, the obscuring of one's vision and senses, illusions, tricks of the mind, and the insidious weakening of an opponent.
  • The Skill Category-Enthraller represents the ability of the Player-Character to utilize others to fight for them. Be they conjured demons of the Altera-World, or beasts bent into servitude, the Enthraller is an on-field commander and tactician, who moves his pieces with the utmost precision.

    There are multiple versions of the Enthraller category, one of which must be selected. The Enthraller category specialization may be chosen twice, allowing for the selection of another.

    9mJ6rUi.jpg

    Enthraller-Conjurer: The Conjurer is uniquely in tune with the entities of Other-Altera, the dimension of Altera which contains the likes of ghosts, demons and fae. These are typically esoteric entities, capable of their own magics, adding to the versatility of the Enthraller. Enthrallers further specialize in one category of these Other-entities, and typically only further expand upon becoming more advanced.

    Enthraller-Shaman: The Shaman is uniquely in tune with the animals and beasts that exist in the ecosystems of Altera - flying creatures, wild boars and bears, etc. This connection manifests as a telepathic link, or simply the ability to understand the language. Shamans typically come in two varieties; the first commands packs and flocks, sending them forward like disposable fodder, the second focuses on a single creature, rendering them stronger, quicker, more fearsome through their connection.
  • The Skill Category-Enchanter describes the final form of magic in Altera. Where the Magus invokes the natural elements, the Talisman the divine, and the Enthraller the living, the Enchanter bends the very rules of the Altera world in clever and unique ways, altering its characters, or toyings with its laws of physics.

    There are two versions of the Enchanter category, the Transmuter or the Shifter, one of which must be selected. The Enchanter specialization may be chosen twice, allowing for the selection of the other.

    61HvTGg.jpg

    Enchanter-Transmuter: The Transmuter is capable of changing the properties of creatures, NPCs and PCs in subtle to extravagant ways, although typically always impermanent. They are capable of granting temporary flight, water-breathing, the gift of tongues, or perhaps turning flesh into stone, or body into fluid water. The main form of progression for Transmuters lays in versatility: a low level transmuter knows few spells, while the Advanced transmuter has a gargantuan bag of tricks at their disposal.

    Enchanter-Shifter: The Shifter is capable of changing the properties of Altera's various laws - of nature, of physics, of magic, though always impermanently, and at times overlapping with the Magus category. Such feats include being able to cause gravity in an area to push sideways, the wind to blow upwards, objects to become lighter or intensely heavy. Like the Transmuter, their progression lays in versatility and the size of their repertoire.
 
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CHARACTER-INFO

In the following contexts, 'Player-Character' refers to the players of Altera in-story, not the players of this roleplay. 'Non-Player Character' similarly refers only to the pre-programmed and existing inhabitants of Altera in-story, as they may be playable in the context of the roleplay.

Player-Characters Non Player-Characters
  • Destined to be a smash-success even years before its actual release, Altera captured the hearts and imaginations of the masses. On its release date, 17,000,000 players found their way into the world of Altera. While most were at least middle-class to affluent, even lower-class citizens found ways to play Altera, accessing through arcades and cybercafes. Deemed an activity for all ages, young and old alike found something about Altera to enthrall them.

    Player-Characters engage in a 'Character Creation' process to determine the details of their avatar in the Altera world. Keeping one's identity secret remains paramount - players are highly encouraged to ensure that their In-game appearance differs from their actual appearance. To that end, the systems of customization for appearance are highly involving, also including a Race System and the option to portray oneself as another gender. The latter option, admittedly, at times draws controversy when in a game as life-like, immersive, deceptive as Altera.

    Along the lines of identity protection is the importance of selecting a User Name - which serves as one's nom de guerre when in Altera. There are two common naming methodologies: a fantasy-inspired name such as 'Loras Oakenshield', or more simplistic tags that could still pass as nicknames in-world ('Spearwolf', 'Shieldbasher') - names that served to break immersion were strictly forbidden as were, of course, one's real name. As players gained achievements and felled powerful enemies, these faux-names would become associated with such, by fellow players and in-world entities alike.

    Finally, Player-Characters selected a set of skills (see under WORLD-MECHANICS), and were allowed on their way, transported into one of several Hub-Kingdoms.

    In-game, Player-Characters are unable to identify other Player-Characters as such, although they typically behaved in ways that made it obvious. Non-Player-Characters, in addition, were also unable to identify Player-Characters, although they have recently begun to pick up hints of the unfamiliar.

    5.6 million players are currently stranded in Altera, around half that number having begun in the Hub-Kingdom of Thyrvald.
  • For a game-world such as Altera to be truly immersive, it required characters of its own. The various hub-kingdoms of Altera, and even its wilderness house, well, a world's worth of personalities - characters with their own specially defined motivations, backgrounds and familial relationships.

    No NPC exists in isolation, not even the various mystic recluses and hermits - their backgrounds tie them to other aspects of the world. NPCs go about their days in ways both routine and otherwise, accounting for the various shifts in Altera-conditions, or the behavior of PCs. If such behavior or routine permits it, NPCs are capable of growth, in knowledge, skill, or even the fiber of their character.

    Furthermore, they act according to their programmed narratives - if an NPC is given a lead to avenge his murdered father, they will follow it - although perhaps the more clever NPCs will attempt to first prove its veracity - overriding their typical day routine. These narratives are not constant - they, too, are capable of shifting.

    In this regard, the NPCs are wholly living entities, with their own sense of agency.

    The game has accounted for a certain type of 'gamer', the one who does what they wish without a care in the world for immersion or narrative - the ones who have a typical affinity for wanton slaughter. NPCs will preserve their own lives as best as they are able (unless their personality calls for otherwise), and their death causes various contingencies made for the express purpose of preserving narrative - those connected to the NPC will behave appropriately, while new NPCs are generated to maintain status quo as much as possible.

    As of now, the function that governs the generation of new NPCs appears to be non-operational.

    Additionally, while NPCs were formerly given cognitive blocks to prevent them from recognizing the unfamiliar behavior of Player Characters, they are now more and more aware of these 'new, strange foreigners' - a knowledge that threatens to dramatically change their various routines and behaviors.


RACE-SYSTEM

As with all fantasy settings, the game world of Altera is host to a variety of races - however, not all races were deemed Playable, primarily for narrative purposes. The playable races are as follows:

  • Human
  • Gnome
  • Elf
  • Orsi anla Kesh (Low-Orc)

Selection of a Race gives the Player the ability to understand and communicate in the Race's natural tongue, as well as receiving treatment befitting their race.

It should be noted that the following descriptions mostly pertain to non Player-Characters, as Player-Characters were given more options in customization.

[[Descriptions of Other-Altera races such as pixies and fae will be worked on at a later date.]]

Human
  • It is said that all Humans were derived from the Beasts, given the gift of sentience to examine how they would fare in the world of Altera.

    As the most populous race, it is fair to say that they have thrived. While few races boast as many varied cultures as the Humans, one unifying trait defines them: their resourcefulness. Without the same magical attunement as the elves, they made the most of the mud and dirt they were born with, carving out kingdoms such as Thyrvald.

    The Humans of the Atriya region are typically fair-haired with light complexions. Those from the Xo region are a more tanned-lot, and are typically representative of humans from Earth's Asian and Mesopotamian regions. Humans that hail from the Remnant are a hardy folk, and generally pale-skinned.

    Human Player-Characters represent a race who have risen from mud to become skilled practitioners of war. They are able to gleam competency in a field of weaponry without taking the 'Warrior' specialization. Humans who have already taken the 'Warrior' specialization may gain competency in a field of weaponry not currently granted. Humans with only 'Warrior' specializations may gain a third.
 
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WARNING!-THREATS

Beasts Other-Worlders Overseers and Old-Lords
  • At a base-level, the bestiary borrows heavily from Earth's own variety of creatures - including those that exist in the modern day, the extinct mammoths and dinosaurs of a previous era, and the dragons, griffons and tentacled horrors that only exist in works of fiction. The fantastical themes of Altera, however, require that each species become extrapolated, forming new species based off the previous ones: larger, more aggressive versions perhaps, species spliced with other species or versions infused with various elements and magical properties. The bestiary of Altera is almost infinite.

    KiiqM6w.jpg

    The ecosystems of Altera, and the locations of the more dangerous species, were designed with video game theory in mind - the hub-kingdoms are firstly surrounded by the more benign, manageable creatures, while the dangers lie further beyond.

    In accordance with such design principles, packs and flocks typically contain an 'Alpha', one superlative specimen meant to represent a 'mini-boss'. It is also the case that some specimen exist as the lone representative of their species, a sort of mythical creature that inspires awe... and the urge to challenge it, to defeat it.

    ybQKUjw.jpg

    Hunting for such creatures has a variety of functions. Firstly, the hunt of more dangerous game is good practice. Secondly, the taking of trophies builds notoriety and repute, as well as the possibility of selling for money or trading for goods. Thirdly, certain species can be harvested as magical components or reagents. Fourthly, many creatures are edible, providing a method of sustenance.
  • Altera contains a mythical afterlife-esque domain, dubbed Other-Altera. From within, wraiths, spectres rise, in incorporeal form, or possessing the corpses of the dead. Demons and fae also exist, sentient beings who were initially programmed and written with the same internal-narrative as the living NPCs of Altera.

    The dead fall under the domain of Obso, the Ember-Son, although not all of the risen dead are under his thrall.
  • The world of Altera holds to a variety of customs and belief-systems, varying from Kingdom to Kingdom, region to region. Perhaps the most pervasive of all are the tales of Altera's Guardian Overseers, and the Old-Lords which once plagued it. Although referred to by a variety of names over a variety of cultures, the memories of their true names transient, their influence is at times wondrously, or horrifyingly, tangible.

    As the game's internal narrative goes, the Old-Lords came upon Altera and its people, twisting them in their horrific visages, maddening and chaotic. Forests burned and bent inwards upon themselves, mottled black tendrils marking a dark world. They were eventually vanquished by figures who rose up, seizing divinity in order to reclaim Altera, although the Old-Lords left their mark on them in turn.

    These angelic figures - although few look so angelic - came to be known as the Overseers, the pre-eminent deities of Altera. They make their influence known through bountiful harvest, or natural disaster, good and ill in turn. Each of them commands a 'host', divine armies who have been known to come upon Altera, although seldom in force.

    They number five, and are as follows:

    Izaza, the Wind-Mother.
    Archon, the Grimoire-Arcane.
    Weah, the Smog-Lord. (DECEASED)
    Obso, the Ember-Son.
    Zioh, the Beacon-True.    ​

    The Old-Lords, though vanquished in theory, are said to be truly immortal, eternal representations of abstract constructs. They are known to have names, although such names are lost, said to be unspeakable. Therefore, they are each referred to as a number, denoting the order in which they were pushed back from Altera. They are as follows.

    One, Lord of Ennui and the Greydread.
    Two, Lord of Madness and the Inscrutable.
    Three, Lord of Law and the Reaping.
    Four, Lord of Finality and the Harbinger.    ​
​
 
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SETTING-ALTERA

The game-world of Altera was designed to have its own vivid history, which in-turn motivates the backstories and personalities of NPCs, minor and core.

Alteran civilization has existed 851 years. Its calendar years are 360 days in length, separated by twelve months: the First Month, the Second Month, and so forth. The following regions and Kingdoms are those currently discovered and mapped by the Playerbase; much is said to lie beyond both the Deadwaste, and the Remnant.

Kingdoms, General Thyrvald
  • Kingdoms, and all that the title denotes - walls, castles, fortresses, armies, people - are strategically layered about Altera. Save for the forsaken outskirts, and the harshest dunes and tundra, cities and countries of all sorts persist, with market economies and political systems that are either carefully curated, or driven - for the purposes of in-game narrative - to ruin.

    They share similar design philosophies with that of NPCs - changing, shifting, growing ideologies and paradigms - but on a significantly larger scale. The internal affairs of Kingdoms are constantly shifting, simulating merchants vying for market control, the unrest of the common masses, and the intrigues of nobility. On an even grander level, Kingdoms have shared history with other Kingdoms, leaning them towards peace, or war, alliances or lethal rivalries. The goal was for the more cerebrally-inclined Players to insert themselves, to play a role in the burgeoning history of Altera.

    There were plans in motion for multiple 'Hub-Kingdoms', areas where Players are initially transported to at the beginning of their Altera career. Hub-Kingdoms, unlike other Kingdoms which are more varied, must all follow certain rules of design, which may or may not hold in light of recent events:

    1. As a Starting Point, all Hub-Kingdoms must be peaceful enough to serve as an 'entry-level'. They must still, however, be allowed to shift, and to grow, to offer their own stories.
    2. All Hub-Kingdoms should be prosperous enough to be warm and inviting, but not so prosperous that they dull the compulsion to leave, to explore and find new Kingdoms.
    3. All Hub-Kingdoms must necessarily be affairs of grand scale, as they will house, initially, the brunt of all the player-base.
    4. As a stable, entry point, Hub-Kingdoms should tend towards non-aggression and neutrality, and the NPCs of the Hub-Kingdoms should be instilled with mental blocks to ensure this.

    At Altera launch, only two Hub-Kingdom were designated as such: Thyrvald, the Kingdom-Upon-the-Shield, and Lodestar Across the Sea.

    Thyrvald is the central-most Kingdom of the Atriya region, which is of temperate climate, and of rolling forests and hills aplenty.
  • Thyrvald is one of the oldest Kingdoms in Altera, its longevity alone earning its name immense respect. As the story goes, during the one-hundred and first year of Alteran civilization, Tanis Lothyr fell upon the mainland and was beset on all sides by the savage; the maw and fangs of wolves, and the glimmering taint of poisoned arrows. He did not fall, for all around him were his Shield-Bearers who guarded him with forge-blessed steel, and the gilded blood of their own lives, pledged and sworn. Lothyr and his Shields crashed upon the savages, and upon the battlefield - which had spread far and wide - the Kingdom of Thyrvald was born.

    Today, Thyrvald still stands, a Kingdom of beautiful white-stone.

    [The below is a rough overview; a more in-depth description of Thyrvald and its various locales is intended before the opening of 'ITERATION']
    IaPQrav.jpg


    Political Structure: Monarchy (ruled by Queen Waneya Lothyr)
    Inter-Kingdom Relations: Trade agreement with Vaslera and Machina. Strive to maintain neutrality.
    Notable Groups:
    • The Thirty-Six Shields: Named in honor of the Shields that protected the First King, Tanis Lothyr. These are the brightest and most talented of Thyrvald, schooled in the histories, or the arts arcana and divine. Furthermore, they must all serve the function of protecting the current head of the Lothyr line; the Thirty-Six must all be well-versed in combat. The Thirty-Six are seldom whole, with vacancies commonly arising from old age, casualty, or the simple fact that there are not thirty-six qualified candidates.
    • The Famished March: The famed Hunter's Guild of Thyrvald, who hunt dangerous game along the outskirts of Thyrvald for the protection of travelers, and less dangerous game for sustenance and gold.
    • Various other Guilds and Academies, for warriors, mages, crafters, etc.

    City Structure: Numerous Districts. The first and second Districts are where the poor reside, while the 'Rose District' houses the nobles. Queen Waneya Lothyr resides in the Shield-Tower, the highest Keep of Thyrvald. Numerous towns, farms and mills dot the surrounding fields.
    Race Distribution: Even.
    Population: ~10 million, including the stranded Players.
    Currency: Standard (copper, silver, gold pieces).
    Economy: Prosperous.
    Customs: As the most archetypal Hub-Kingdom, adhered to standard medieval conventions.​
​
 
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It was evening, and Landon's share of the strongwine had long since run dry.

He had depleted the Qohorik's wine in the opening rounds of the melee, and supplanted it with another Dornish red. Sour, not nearly as strong, but wonderful in its own right. The Thorned Knight had fallen as his sixth cup had drained empty, and he had beckoned for a seventh before his lady-wife had chided him. She had worn the face of a sympathetic acquaintance then, expression barely betraying disappointment.

A seventh cup had come to him nonetheless, snatched from a serving boy as the melee had run its course. Karson had giggled at his sloppy attempt at sleight-of-hand, and Brandis had been typically courteous.

Now, in the dim of his own abode, his own chambers, Dornish red gave way to sweet hippocras, purchased at cut-rate from Highgarden merchants. Young Karson had been tucked away somewhere, drained from the excitement of the afternoon's festivities. Septa Unara would be reading something to calm him - something grounded in reality, that shunned glory hounds and romantic fools, that preached duty and fealty. Brandis sat at the far end of his chamber, a slim silhouette in front of the candle light, a quill in her hand.

His lady-wife, a stranger in his chambers. It must have been a year since she had last made the journey from Stonedance. Karson had waited that very same year, but his reunion had come far easier. Even amidst his drunken haze he had heard his son's cheers during the melee, uproarious hollers in support of the man with the red cloak, and the way he regaled his mother with all the various ripostes and counter-ripostes he had spotted. Brandis had played along, almost enthusiastic. The Brandis he remembered shunned the brutality of men.

"Brandis…" He began softly, before his voice drifted into nothingness. The name felt strange, the unfamiliarity resting ill upon his tongue. He swallowed, and it turned to frustration within him. He remembered the sight of that slim silhouette from so many years ago, across from him in his bedchambers, overlooking the waters below Stonedance. Of course he did.

"My wife," Landon approached that familiar, distant shadow with the caution of a hunter. Brandis moved to cover the parchment, but he could see the delicate strokes of ink from beneath her fingers, "Your writing is impeccable. Your lettering is… you write well."

"My thanks, Landon." She responded with a gentle smile; a warm relief. "Karson says he's envious of me for it, though he needn't be - few boys are. Septa Unara must be wonderful; he writes well for his age. He wrote to me often."

Landon had not. He never had. His lips quivered, desperately attempting to form an apology for that slight. Yet he found none sufficient, none adequate, and so he responded with precious nothing. He wished the candlelight would dim a fraction more, so that he could not see her puzzled expression, as if quizzically examining the small, shrivelled silence that came from his mouth. Alas, the evening was not near so dark.

Knowing nothing else, he placed his calloused fingers upon her shoulder, numb from wine. "I am… diminished, I think. I should rest- my wife."

He leaned forward, his motions so slight, so withdrawn and restrained that they drew no reaction save for the stillness of Brandis' confusion. She sat frozen even as he drew closer and closer, close enough to gently lift the drapes of her hair with his fingers. Close enough to capture her familiar scent of jasmine, rendered faint by the toils of the day. Close enough to intertwine in a parting kiss, before he remembered the foul stink of alcohol in his breath.

The moment ended as he recoiled, as he noted the way she averted her gaze. For that as well, Landon could muster no apology.

...Amidst the Gathering Winds
@Shizuochan and @Jorick​

He turned, seeking the blissful reprieve of an early slumber, before even that was scuppered. First, it had been the quiet step of serving girl, followed by two men of the Watch and their frantic march. One's expression was rigid, the other's endlessly malleable and expressive - both the result of urgency and anxiety. Something was amiss.

"My Lor-."

"Lead. Tell me of it, as we walk." Words came so very easily to him then, even when spoken slowly in drunken deliberation. The fact made him recall her face, her piteously bemused puzzlement.

The guards led him to Harwyn and his assortment of Watchmen, assembled at the Dragonpit. The tale, as it happened, had been one of murder - and of a maester no less. Lord Massey strode forth to meet the Ironborn, his drunken sway apparent to the worldly eye, respectably controlled though it was.

"Grand Maester." He offered, breath still full of wine.

Harwyn's eyes narrowed as the Master of Laws approached. "I hope the wine doesn't soften your mind as badly as it does your stomach." He gestured off to the side with one hand, which had a piece of parchment clutched tightly between the fingers, and walked in that same direction to lead the way toward the Bloodpit.

The Dragonpit itself was a decaying ruin of ancient splendor, more rubble than structure, but there were hints of the past to be found in carvings in the stone not yet worn away by time and weather. There was a stone square set in the center of the hard-packed dirt floor, but Harwyn led the way off to the side, near to one of the crumbling walls that ringed the dirt. The infamous Bloodpit was nothing more than a not-quite-circular hole in the dirt, twenty feet across at the widest and nearly fifteen deep. Some of the men of the City Watch were lowering a ladder into the hole, though it was not quite long enough to make the full distance from top to bottom.

While the old stains of blood that earned the pit its name had long ago been washed away, it now had a fresh coat of red that did a good job of evoking the past. Maester Cowen's body was a crumbled heap near the center of the pit and a large pool of blood had spread outward from a head wound. There were no obvious weapons nearby, not even large rocks, but there was a large spray of red droplets up on the surface a couple feet away from the edge of the pit that told the tale quite clearly.

After giving Lord Massey time to look over it all, Harwyn offered him the note that had been clutched in his hand. "This was delivered to me perhaps half an hour ago. A bearded man paid a girl in Flea Bottom two silver pieces to bring it to me." His voice was already tight and angry, but as he continued it took on a growling tone. "I think he wanted to taunt me, but perhaps my judgment is... biased. What do you make of it? Assuming you aren't too drunk to read, of course."

"My vision - and my literacy - remain, Grand Maester." Lord Massey replied as he took the note into his hands, his tone conveying reassurance rather than defiance. The Master of Laws considered few men to possess judgment worthy of merit or consideration; the Ironborn, who had once spoken against the whole of his own kinsmen in the line of duty, was amongst that rare few.

Landon regarded the note with blank eyes and dull dispassion, though his lips pursed, and the wrinkles on his weathered face furrowed. His gaze wandered from letter to the macabre scene - from the bloodied edge of the pit to lifeless maester - before returning to the parchment. He spoke again, eyes fixed upon the letter. "To taunt you, in particular? Unreasonable to conclude without further knowledge. To taunt a man in your position; perhaps. Slight difference, Grand Maester. Notable."

Lord Massey, as if half-awoke, continued speaking in fragmented spurts of spilt thoughts, "This… 'Sam' commits murder to hide some secret work. Betrays the knowledge of it through goading in the very same day. It could be senseless arrogance, sending this message. Could also be that the recipient is already knowledgeable of this secret work - perhaps even complicit, to some extent - and this is a threat to remain mum." Lord Massey lifted his eyes from the parchment to stare pointedly at the Ironborn, before again diverting his gaze.

Almost half a century ago, Lord Justyn Massey had perished in the bloodpit, condemned by Roslyn Martell. Now, the late Lord's grandson stood over where his blood had been shed, serving the very same queen. If the thought gave the Master of Laws pause, he did not deign to show it. "That this should happen here, not long before the Queen's nameday, can be no coincidence. .. Have you any idea where Maester Cowen would have been, before his demise?"

Harwyn was silent for a time, jaw clenched as he looked down into the pit. When he spoke once more his tone was more controlled but still unable to hide the simmering anger. "Bold theories. Foolish in large part, but bold. Your point about the position being the target rather than me personally may have some validity." He turned away from the gruesome sight to face Lord Massey, brows drawn down as he considered the question.

"Last I saw Maester Cowen he was on his way into the city to find some place to drink. He was no drunkard so far as I knew, but he did have a fondness for wine from the Arbor. He was assigned to Karhold, so I suppose he saw this trip to King's Landing as a chance to indulge in luxuries that are hard to find so far in the North." The heat had slowly fallen away from Harwyn's voice as he spoke, and as he continued on his eyes seemed focused on some point in the middle distance rather than on Landon. "He was a wise and kind man, and he considered even white lies to be some manner of evil. I can't imagine he was part of anything nefarious, but he was never the best judge of character. When he was studying at the Citadel he would sometimes wander off to the seedier taverns near the docks. He got into some trouble now and then, lost a lot of gold to thugs and pickpockets, but he never seemed to learn to stay away from such disreputable places."

Harwyn blinked and focused on the Master of Laws again. "Old men rarely ever change their habits. My best guess is he went somewhere he shouldn't have been, some tavern frequented by criminals, and ran afoul of them. How he ended up here I cannot begin to guess, but were I a betting man I would stake money on the claim that the trouble started in some shit heap of a tavern."

"As trouble often does."

Landon shifted uncomfortably, perhaps more at ease with the Ironborn's anger than his reminiscence. "But he ran afoul of no common criminal. No obvious signs of struggle, bruises or scratches. He may have been compelled here, under duress. He may have come of his own accord, before he was struck. Here, of all places."

His eyes returned to the parchment, fixated on a single line. "It is significant, to some degree. The Bloodpit - as more than a dumping grounds. 'History has always been written in layers of blood.' I mislike the choice of words."

Lord Massey addressed Harwyn once more, tired voice enlivened with the slightest hints of impetus, "The whereabouts of the girl?"

Harwyn nodded slowly as Lord Massey spoke of the nature of the murder and the strange line from the note, but he said nothing about them. The question about the girl made him grimace. "Somewhere in Flea Bottom." Some of the fire had returned to his voice, but he was still much calmer than he had been when speaking of the murderer. "She ran off before I read the note, and by the time I roused some of your men to find her she'd already made it past the outer gate of the Red Keep and into the city. She told me her name is Sylva, and she said that she and her mother came from Rosby. Dark hair, looked underfed. Will that be sufficient to find her?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not." Landon replied after a pause, weighing the likelihood of it. Flea Bottom held poor children in abundance, and 'Sylva' was as like to be a false name as it were a real one. "I will gather men to scour Flea Bottom."

The arm that held the parchment fell by the Lord's side, "You represent the maesters - I would have you make inquiry of them. To shed, if possible, further light on Cowen's movements in King's Landing. I will make similar inquiries of the Karstarks' retainers."

"Yes, I will of course be speaking to my fellow maesters." Harwyn's voice grew dark and his eyes strayed back toward the pit and its gory contents. "I doubt they will have any useful information, but I must inform them of this tragedy and warn them to be careful. I am concerned that this may be more than a rogue incident, Lord Massey. Maester Cowen may have been targeted for his position just as that message may have been meant for the position of Grand Maester rather than me personally. This was a deliberate killing, and that line about history and layers of blood..."

Harwyn grimaced and looked back to the Master of Laws. "To some extent, maesters are history, the keepers and recorders of much that would be otherwise forgotten. A writer of history now lays in his own blood. Call me a daft fool if you like, but there's a twisted sort of poetry there. If this killer is a learned man, as his writing suggests, then perhaps he was hinting at more to come."

"More maesters, specifically?" Lord Massey echoed the Ironborn's implication, tilting his head in thought, "What strange motive compels the targeted threats of men who hold no lands, lordships, or even the names of their own House? You appear to be suggesting some form of symbolism."

"Yes, and I hope it's a suggestion that is as foolish as it sounds." Harwyn fell silent for an extended moment, then went on in a more speculative tone. "There are some men who the Citadel casts out for a variety of reasons. Criminals mostly, but some for failing to see to their duties or defying the archmaesters. Such a man who believes their expulsion to be unjust could be both learned enough to employ this symbolism and aggrieved enough to hold a grudge against maesters as a whole."

He let out a sharp sigh and swept his hand to the side, as if brushing the idea away. "But I truly suspect it will turn out to be some arrogant twat of noble birth who intended no deeper message at all. It would be far from the first time a fool's work was mistaken for genius. I will send a raven to the Citadel to inquire after expulsions in recent years, but I believe you and your men will prove far more useful in finding the truth of what happened here."

Landon offered a curt nod in response, "Very well. In matters pertaining to the Citadel, I defer to you." He looked past the Ironborn, surveying the Watchmen present, "As for the City Watch, we will do what is necessary."

"Good." Harwyn took another quick glance into the pit and grimaced at what he saw. "I'll leave you to your work then. If I learn anything useful I shall send word immediately." He gave Lord Massey a quick nod, an abbreviated bow of sorts, and turned to go, heading for the entrance of the Dragonpit with quick steps and clenched fists swinging at his sides.

As for Lord Massey, he offered a lingering glance at the Bloodpit before departing also, with an almost sober vigor, and words whispered beneath his breath.

"Velaryon, Darklyn, Stokeworth, Massey, Hayford, Farring, Pyne, and Targaryen..."
 
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lqa8fvS.jpg

  • Full Name - Shimazu Hisayo
  • Nickname/Alias - "Super-Mega-Death-Androgynous-Rainbow-Ram"
  • Age - 17
  • School & Grade - Hokushin Gakuen, 2nd Year
  • Gender - Female
  • Part-Time Work - Works sparingly at her uncle's tempura joint, though usually prefers to take whatever opportunity she has to laze about when not studying or fighting.
  • Clubs - Junior member of Student Council, member of the Yearbook Club.
  • Gangs - Hokushin Student Council
  • Height- 5'4"
  • Weight - 130lbs
  • Ethnicity - Japanese
  • Description Well-defined features and sharp teal eyes rest upon a porcelain canvas, adorned by bright blonde hair. There is a degree of androgyneity to her appearance, in part due to her underdeveloped form and curvature. While her general constitution appears wispy and frail, she presents a semblance of strength by remaining tersely upright and rigid, standing straight and formal. There is a certain awkward aspect to her rigidity when walking, leading to many jokes of the 'object-up-posterior' variety.
  • Stats
    >Strength: 3
    >Endurance: 2
    >Agility: 4
    >Speed: 4
    >Intellect: 3
    >Spirit: 3
    >Drive: 2
    >Luck: 2​
  • Rank - B
  • Class - Shabazo
  • Reikontate - Heimdallr, of the Bifrost, the Rainbow Bridge. The Reikontate takes the image of a golden-armored warrior - brutish in regal in equal measure, grizzled and powerful - with a helmet in the shape of a ram's head, golden teeth, and tufts of grey fur dotting its body. The Reikontate's aura pulses with a tri-color shimmer, scaling the spectrum of yellow, red and blue.
  • Mezame - Yes.
  • Powerset - 'The Rainbow Road' (Color Manipulation via Movement)

    Hisayo refers to her powerset as the 'Rainbow Road', able to move at blistering pace, trailed by a tri-color path of red, yellow and blue. Since her awakening, she is able to turn the path a single color, each granted their own abilities.

    • Red: The Fire Road. This color, out of the three, allows Hisayo to travel the fastest, albeit lowering maneuverability to the point where its only advisable to be used in straight-line drives. Hisayo explodes forward, leaving a trail of blazing fire in her wake.
    • Blue: The Ice Road. This color allows Hisayo the greatest maneuverability, enabling her to turn and stop on a dime while going at top speed, through the application of creating a path of ice in her wake. The ice itself is highly slippery, and a deterrent on its own. Has a unique interaction when used over bodies of water, allowing her to effectively create a path through oceans and sea.
    • Yellow: The Electric Road. This color allows Hisayo, through a limited manipulation of electricity and friction, to run across walls and ceilings, even being able to momentarily travel, unsupported, through the air.
    Her power is heavily dependent on her mobility, and thus can be 'hamstrung' by targeting the lower body. Furthermore, opposing elements and circumstances to that effect (water/ice against 'red', heat/fire against 'blue', insulating influences such as earth against 'yellow') can hamper the power, to the point of nulling it completely.
  • Fighting Style - Perhaps shockingly contrary to her image of 'generally uptight and elitist Hokushin kid', Hisayo fights with no formal style. Her general physical tendencies lean towards surprisingly powerful punches - as her legs are typically occupied with her power, kicks are generally out of the equation. Her chief philosophy in battle is blitzkrieg; victory at lightning speed.
  • Weapons Hisayo is not at all above using weaponry, in this case opting for a pair of nightsticks. There's no particular style involved in their usage; charge in and pummel is the general plan.
  • Personality - Once upon a time, Shimazu Hisayo was a stand up girl, who made friends easily, and demonstrated an empathy and kindness belying her eyes. A combination of at-home pressures and the expectations hoisted upon her due to her position within Hokushin Gakuen have changed her - not in the sense that they've made her more overtly cruel, per se, but in that they have made her apathetic. Hisayo keeps her deepest feelings withdrawn, navigating high school politics with dispassion, and setting her conscience aside to engage in the trickery and deceit her school is known for. There is perhaps some aspect of her past self within, although external pressures force it into dormancy.

    For all her attempts at dispassion, however, Hisayo is a wreck. The prospect of the slightest misstep, social faux pas or a battle conducted to less than optimal standards constantly gnaw at her. Her quiet, reserved demeanor is a tense, carefully curated visage to conceal her ever-chattering neuroses. It is perhaps only in conflict with the opposite number of her 'Destiny Bond' that she feels truly unburdened, due in part to the influence of her Reikontate.
  • Biography

    • Born to father Shimazu Ren and mother Shimazu Hina, a computer programmer and University professor respectively - a Sento City native.
    • Ren and Hina's respective jobs took up much of their time, and necessitated a great deal of travelling, leaving young Hisayo under a caretaker's watch. She remembers her youth fondly; free, careless, playing in the gardens with her old friend Kikoyo Mori.
    • Eventually, however, Ren and Hina's work situations change, and they find themselves at home more often. They become more and more invested in Hisayo's early development, homeschooling her with a rigid, grueling regiment. The days of playing in the garden fade, a memory from a long time ago, and her friendship with Mori slowly begins to dwindle.
    • Eventually, enrolls in Hokushin Gakuen, while Mori goes to that other school. The divergence culminates in what is essentially the end of their friendship; mother and father alike forbid Hisayo from making contact with her, fearful of Mori's 'Minamigawa' influence.
    • Hisayo finds herself ascending through the social ranks of Hokushin, keeping her desires withdrawn in order to act according to the standards established by her peers and family alike. Becomes one of Hokushin's delinquents, while also managing to become a part of the Student Council. All throughout her current tenure, however, she feels woefully unfulfilled, gleaming only anxiety through her accomplishments; failure strikes her bitterly, while success is barely a reward.
    • Over the school years, has numerous encounters with her old friend, Kikoyo Mori, now a student of Minamigawa. Friendship near-forgotten, they have several encounters. One culminates in the awakening of Hisayo's Mezame, the product of a brief epiphany of freedom - interacting with Mori again, in direct opposition to her parent's commands. This later has long-lasting implications; they are bound in an Unmei no Kizuna.
  • Likes (5 likes)
    + has a love for chewy, gummy, or sticky foods, with green tea mochi being a particular favorite.
    + moments of quiet and solitude, rare as they may be.
    + fighting the crap out of Mori.
    + running, and getting that oh-so-wondrous runner's high.
    + small-talk, with no strings attached.​
  • Dislikes (5 dislikes)
    - having expectations pressed upon her.
    - competition when she has no personal investment.
    - small, tight spaces; a bit of a claustrophobe.
    - compliments.
    - foods in liquid; soup is a sham.​
 
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general
Name: Shiva O'Sensen ('Shiv'/sheev, 'Sen', 'Sen-Sen', 'O-Sen')
Age: 29
Sex: Female
Date of Birth: October 1st
Class: Upper

appearance
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 145 lbs
Hair: Dark brown (natural), Violet (dyed).
Written Appearance:

4gtWIPS.jpg

Shiva is of above-average height, and moderate frame, slightly narrow of bust and hip, and slender waisted. Her apparent strength of body and constitution - impressive in their own right, owing to a history of physical service - is bolstered by her own comportment, upright and almost regal.

She is 'pretty' enough, fair of complexion, eyes a widened blue and with a slight, pleasing roundness to her face. Her nose is button-like with a subtle bridge, and her lips of moderate fullness - combined with her disposition, of which typically ranges from professional stoicism to practiced geniality, one could say that the more accurate descriptor for her is 'handsome'.

When conducting business within any given estate, she dons an old-style suit-jacket (and any accoutrements the client should deem fitting), compactly-fitted and immaculately cuffed. The conducting of errands outside the estate, particularly when the second party may be of adversarial nature, compels Shiva to a more striking wardrobe; black, form-fitting, long jacket, dress and perhaps even traces of leather.

personality

"There are standards. I won't fall below them."​

Shiva is endlessly courteous, as expected of one who deals in hospitality as a trade. Her demeanor is ever cordial, and her words spoken in a soft, practiced lilt. In balancing geniality and professionalism alike, she veers more towards the latter, her mannerisms typically deliberate and rehearsed.

Within her deliberation, however, is the root of obsession. Her upbringing and training have caused her to perceive perhaps overmuch, particularly of disorder and elements of her surroundings that are less than adequate; speaking out-of-turn, inflections and speaking rhythms that lack internal consistency, particularly gaudy outfits, etc. These 'transgressions' illicit Shiva's contempt, or an overwhelming urge to remedy the issue. Years of having to balance her neurosis against a mandate of courtesy-above-all have done her, sadly, no favors.

An elite in her field, she is a polymath - versed in a vast and eclectic set of knowledge pertaining to decorum, technologies, defense, law and healthcare alike - with the rigid focus that such a moniker demands. She gleams satisfaction through excellence, and finds drive and impetus through pursuance of her own standards - and perhaps more critically - standards set and enforced by others. To fall below them, then, is an unforgivable betrayal of her life's purpose.

biography
From a young age, Shiva found understanding and, indeed, a veneration in service. She was the daughter of highly regarded restaurateurs, who found some measure of reverence in their preparation of delicate sashimi and silky broths for the consumption of the Elite. Ever impressionable, she found that for the duration of their service, they were as if equals to the vaunted elites that they served. Transcendence through excellence. For a time, she had wished to follow in their footsteps.

They would dissuade her from the craft; through their work, they reasoned, they had given her the opportunity to pursue anything else in the world.

Young Shiva's concern was not of raw fish, however, it was of excellence. Excellence in her studies, excellence in obedience, excellence in adhering to curriculums both scholarly and social. Along with the tenet of excellence, was the idea of service, of demonstrating her excellence before the discerning eyes of others. Teachers, perhaps. Fellow classmates, at a stretch. Even then, it was barely enough. After a time assessing her options, there was but one that spoke true to her; the Takym Guild of Hospitality Agents. Home of the hypercompetent. Home of the subservient.

It was the Guild that made her, that infused her with the knowledge to serve under the deities of the new world. It was expected of a butler to procure, but only the exemplary could procure something of new value for the men and women that owned everything. It was expected of a butler to run one's estate, to guide chef and doctor alike, but only the exemplary could take all of it upon themselves. That was her calling, and she rose to it with aplomb.

'Transcendent service, with a human touch!' - was the tagline. Even so, she could feel herself become less and less human with each passing year. Social connections, foregone. Friends, an ethereal mist of the past. Family, stepstones. Her every word born of rout repetition, utterly detached from her own thoughts. She could feel all of it, and she accepted it in turn. To serve in a world of one-percent deities required sacrifice.

Her invitation to Sanctuary, then, must have been the just rewards for her sacrifice.

power and augments
Power: 'Low-level Telekinetic'; Shiva can be considered a telekinetic, capable of influencing objects without physical interaction. Her particular brand of telekinesis is low-grade, being unable to affect objects of high mass, and also lacking in degree of control.

Specifically, Shiva can cause objects of moderate to lower size to float around her, and follow her as if in orbit.

Technological Augmentations: [Outside of the standard implant]. A single recreational VR implant, which feeds directly into Shiva's neural system. Primarily used for the purpose of gaming on her off time, perhaps somewhat uncharacteristically. Currently playing: Hawk of Endymion, open-world game depicting the adventures of daring sky-pirates.

Glow: Light blue.[/hr][/hr][/hr][/hr]
 
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Vitals Profile Biography Powers and Augments

  • basic
    Name: Moll Rokard
    Nickname: (Captain) Rok-Steady
    Age: 31
    Sex: Female
    Date of Birth: October 1
    Class: Upper

    appearance
    Height: 6'4"
    Weight:181lbs
    Hair: Pink (Dyed), Black (Natural). Long, aggressively askew.
    Eyes: Blue
    Glow: Blue

    Tall, broad-shouldered and thin-waisted, Moll Rokard is powerfully, even efficiently, built of compact, muscular strength and impressive presence. There is natural power to her, although her comportment and stature have seemingly diminished from the pinnacle of her athletic career. On closer inspection, she seems to lack comfort in her powerful form, fidgeting intermittently, and slouching ever so slightly at times.

    Her features are naturally sharp, high cheekbones and pointed nose captured prominently within a powerful jawline. Again, there is a disconnect between her expression and her features - her visage seems to settle into a look that resembles stoic contempt, but flickers with expressions of some anxious calculation, as if she actively reminds herself to look less stand-offish and threatening.

    Her everyday attire is typically innocuous, preferring mono-color pieces without any particularly showy patterns or designs.
  • personality
    The great Captain Rok-Steady was remembered fondly as a competitor in the arena, steadfast, tenacious, with bulldog-like resolve augmented by a clever resourcefulness. Highly critical towards agents - whom she had regarded as 'predatory' - and amicable towards her fandom, she was known as loudly-spoken (and sometimes colorful to the point of obscene) by both parties. Brimming with an eternal confidence, she was a fighter until her very last game.

    LpsySGu.jpg

    Pictured: Limited Edition Captain Rokard Holocard.​

    But Moll Rokard doesn't remember much of that. Moll Rokard would consider herself to be an every-person, just trying to gleam some sort of meaning in the day-to-day life of an upper-class citizen. Well-mannered, cordial, soft-spoken, and even awkward, her demeanor is barely reminiscent of who she once was. Indeed, there is an almost robotic aspect to her behavior - perhaps even amoebic, absorbing and imitating social cues around her in an effort to 'fit in'.

    Still, it's not as if she can just shed her past life completely. Still making decas off of her former career, she bears a degree of shame in making currency off of efforts she can't remember exerting, a sadness in not being able to feel the joy in 'deserving it'. Unable to remember her past life as an athlete (refer to Biography), there is an uncomfortability to it all.

    Which is a shame, since she's the one who had the Mnemosyde done to begin with.
  • "I'm the greatest in the world! Greatest in the world, baby!"​

    Sixteen legendary seasons for the Fulcrum. Two-thousand and ninety breathtaking scores, three-thousand and ninety-three stupendous assists, seven-hundred and twenty-nine earth-shattering blocks, and eight-hundred and fifty-two cunning interceptions to remember her by, all reviewable in glorious holovid. Youngest player of all-time at the age of thirteen, youngest league MVP at the age of fifteen, six-time Defensive Stalwart of the Year, two-time Offensive Star of the Year, nine-time All-League First Team Selection, six-time League Champion, and the most prolific assist-playmaker in Aug-Ball history.

    Moll Rokard. Captain Rok-Steady. Champion, leader, legend. Considered by some to be amongst the pantheon of greatest sports competitors in world history. Considered by others as the most wasted talent in Aug-Ball.

    Aug-Ball: a spectacle sport that encapsulates one of the most primitive, elemental objectives of all; putting the motherfucking ball through a hole and then screaming about it overmuch. Played in glorious chrome coliseums for the viewing pleasure of the lower, upper and elite-class folk alike. As much a display of athletics as it is a demonstrative gallery for aug-geeks, twenty-two men and women (eleven on each team) don the showpiece-augs of their sponsors in grueling competition."​

    While the saying is perhaps trite and overwrought, it was Rokard's destiny to be the star-athlete, courtesy of predictive biometrics. Aug-Ball scouts and agents had set their eyes upon the star-in-making since before she had even left the womb. An exorbitant sum of decas into the accounts of her family, and she was ordained. Conditioned and almost bred like old-world livestock from her first breath, entered into grueling regimen from her first step. Rokard breathed Aug-Ball, reshaped herself as an emblem of it, woman of steel and wonder.

    And Aug-Ball was kind to her in turn, rendering her an icon in a world of peons. Star-player of the Fulcrum, Rookie of the Year, consensus future-best-player, with all the rewards that came with it. Decas and vice. Recognition in a world that revolved around so few faces, and being exploited for it. Heightened expectations, and the numbing ritualistic regimens to live up to them. And worst of all, them. Agents, sponsors, aug-makers, and all their cloying 'affections'. The claustrophobic anxiety she felt when they approached with all their far-too-wide smiles. But she loved the game all the same, conditioned or otherwise.

    She was twenty when she won her sixth and final championship, and on the night of her victory she spoke defiantly through the holovid: no more agents, no more sponsors, no more cloying aug-makers. She breathed Aug-Ball, not this… elite corporate nonsense. She was the six-time champion, greatest player in the league, and she would take in what she loved, and cast out the rest.

    What she failed to realize was that Aug-Ball encapsulated more than just the game. Failed to realize that the game extended beyond the coliseum of chrome. Failed to realize that the game was the elite, the game was the corporate grip, and Aug-Ball was big business, specially curated by those who belonged to the one percent. Her former agents and sponsors promoted other burgeoning stars. Her fiercest competitors received the state-of-the-art upgrades that were once reserved for her.

    And so the game passed her by. At the end of her sixteenth season, Captain Rok-Steady - the diminished leader of a now mediocre squad - was cut from the Fulcrum, forcing the end of her career.​

    Retirement was cruel to Rokard. She had devoted her entire life and body to the sport, only to realize it belonged to someone else. She had been a warrior, steadfast and storied, and now she was nothing. She had lived for the visceral, elemental clash of body on body, the familiar ache where the augment greeted the flesh, the raucous screaming from the crowd, the cerebral intensity of picking the perfect pass from amidst a maelstrom of titans - and now they were gone.

    And so Moll Rokard, six-time champion, allowed herself one last augment. One that would let her forget the excruciating minutiae of her life and love, and the pain of having lost it.

    Her invitation came days later.
  • power-trippin'
    The Twelfth-Man
    Used to devastating effect during her playing career, Rokard has the ability to manifest a duplicate of herself - incredibly effective in the arena thanks to effectively adding a player on-field.

    Functionality
    • Manifests a true-to-form copy of herself a short-to-medium distance away.
    • Rokard is able to at-will switch between occupying the copy or her original self.

    Limits
    • Rokard is not able to simultaneously control (or perceive from the perspective of) both the copy and her original self.
    • Technological augments are not copied - the copy is as if Rokard sans-augment.
    • Copy lasts for up to a minute before vanishing (dissipates into an ethereal dust), shunting Rokard to the original body automatically.

    and aug-ballin'
    Leg Augment, 'Octo-Mama'
    Notable amongst Aug-Ball historians for being Moll Rokard's final augmentation, and first 'big-time' non-sponsored installation. Having been essentially blackballed by the finest aug-makers, 'Octo-Mama' was an installation of 'high risk, high reward'; a potentially gamechanging augment created by a virtually unknown mechanic.

    The 'Octo-Mama' was a full replacement for Moll's legs, designed to increase breadth of mobility.

    Functionality:
    • At base level, legs are high-grade, competition-ready, both being of steel constitution and yet engineered to retain flexibility and mobility.
    • Each leg splits into four separate tendrils, eight total (hence the moniker). Neurally linked, Moll is able to seamlessly control the eight tendrils for purposes of manipulation. Blessed with incredible grip strength, each tendril functionally operated at peak human limb capacity, yet were designed for a higher degree of flexibility.
    • Suction function allows tendrils to cling to flat surfaces indefinitely.

    Limits:
    • Extended control prone to causing sensory overload (consequences of which vary from intense headaches, disorientation, to loss of control). Octo-Mama intended to be used in short bursts (of around ten second intervals, with a half-minute give or take of cooldown).

    Arm Augment, 'BFA'
    The sole augment to stay with Moll from her first days in the sport to her retirement, and thus iconic in this regard. Lauded both for its simplicity and its effectiveness, it is a full replacement for each of Moll's arms.

    Functionality:
    • Cleverly installed metal parts can be powered up and unravelled from within Moll's prosthetic arms, forming an oversized gauntlet over hand and forearm at a moment's notice.

    Limits:
    • Naturally, fine articulation is rather impossible when activated.
    • Usage is highly draining. Similar to Octo-Mama, intended to be used in short bursts with similar intervals.

    Mind Augment, 'Mnemosyde'
    A rather intricately installed lattice-network of chips and motes in Moll's head. Functionally, intended to repress memories and associated feelings, while also attempting to kickstart the genesis of understanding and accepting an existence free of those memories.

    Highly unrefined, prone to 'leakage' of emotion, personality and memory, depression, feelings that resemble being out-of-body, out-of-place and out-of-mind, and - predictably - loss of identity.
 
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Kotodama's Mark, Words of the Grimoire Developing Magic Spell System Spell Guidelines
  • From birth, you were born with a series of characters, in some unspoken language, etched somewhere upon your body - a word or a phrase. Kotodama's Mark.

    Theorized to be part of an eons-old language, no being alive understands it in its entirety, although some claim to be able to decipher choice keywords, citing the language as a complex pictography. By and large, those who make such claims are typically regarded as frauds and hacks. In any case, although it is a rare few who know the exact meaning of their own mark, most have some vague, intuitive idea, as each individual typically experiences ideations and visions related to their 'word' at points in their life.

    In short, Kotodama's Mark represents a lingering, dormant potential for magic. Those who are able to tap into the Mark are capable of unique, esoteric abilities that correspond to their word/phrase, and are typically referred to as 'Spines' or 'Binders'. A few key-points:

    • The Marks can mean simple object-nouns, such as fire, sword or ball, or abstract concepts, perhaps phrases and lines in old poetry. They can also represent people or lore-figures in the past (which you may come up with, at my discretion). It's as expansive as language typically is.

    • In the majority of cases, directly-related (parent-child) individuals exhibit the same Mark, and therefore also demonstrate similar abilities (such is also common in less directly-related blood ties). On the other hand, there have also been a significant number of relatives that exhibit different Marks and wholly deviated abilities. On the other other hand, there have been individuals with no blood-tie that have also exhibited the same Mark.

    • The Mark has been known to fade in and out of visibility, at times, for no conclusive reason. While there's no empirical evidence to the fact, Spines often note that their abilities are diminished when the Mark fades. Conversely, the appearance of the Mark sometimes intensifies, with Spines attesting to the opposite effect on their prowess.

    • The most commonly held theory, with numerous anecdotal support, is that Marks fade or intensify based on the degree of correspondence between a Spine's intent/resolve/actions and the nature of their Mark. Example: a Spine with a fire-related Mark has recalled his Mark intensifying in the midst of chaos, while a Spine with a darkness-related Mark has felt their Mark fading when in the presence of numerous others.

    • There have been cases where Spines have undergone amputations leading to the removal of their Mark. It has been observed that they appear to lose their abilities for a time (as short as a week, as long as a year), before the Mark eventually resurfaces on another part of their personage.

    • Without currently putting too much of a fine light over the specific details and implications, Marks can represent anachronisms (for reference, Inferia is largely representative of medieval/ancient-era). Vehicles, electronics, etc.
  • Again, the Mark imbues its holder with potential for power. While everyone you know carries the Mark somewhere upon their person, not everyone of them is a Spine, capable of harnessing their 'gift'.

    • The unlocking of magical ability seems to be linked to the various ideations and visions caused by the Mark. The ideations/visions can occur throughout all stages of life, although seem to be most prevalent during developmental age through young adulthood (5 through 21, roughly). For this reason, it is easiest to develop magics in this age range; past that, and it is nigh impossible to reach one's full potential.

    • As stated before, ideations/visions are intrinsically linked to the meaning of the Mark itself (the mark 'Fire', for example, would bring about visions of infernos and burning waste, although that is a particularly simplistic and non-abstract example). For many, these are as if passing dreams, the specific details forgotten in the moments following. However, through force of will and resolve, it is possible to achieve a state of 'awareness' during these idle visions - over time, this leads to a greater understanding, and an attuning to one's Mark, the crucial first step of learning magics.

      When one reaches the stage of becoming fully and consistently cognizant while in the midst of their visions, they are 'awakened'. The magical energy of the 'Mark' will begin to flow across their body in the form of a shimmering glow, and the aspiring Spine will be able to perceive it like a second sense, utilize it as if a new set of muscles and use it in the casting of spells.

    • Force of will and resolve alone are perhaps not enough to reach the awareness necessary. Conversely, sometimes it may not be required at all.There are those so naturally gifted that they will be able to tap into their Mark without deciphering even the slightest bit of their ideations.

    • On the other hand, those who find the process overly difficult are able to employ the assistance of skilled Spines to 'guide' them. By channeling their own magical energy unto an unawakened being, the guide is able to forcibly rouse their charge into a state of awareness during their visions, over time reaching the same end result as the unassisted method. For Inferian citizens with resources to spare and/or friendly connections to Spines, this is the most common method, as it requires no particular talent on the side of the awaken-ee.

    • Once awakened, the individual may begin developing their abilities in accordance to the meaning of their Mark, and their own personal tastes. At the very beginning, before one's individuality takes shape, magic is exhibited in aimless, formless bursts of concussive force.
  • Once awakened, the Spine is capable of utilizing 'spells', the abilities that are a product of their Mark. These are esoteric abilities with varying utilities, be it combat or just everyday living. There is no limit to the amount of 'spells' one can learn, although it is a time-consuming endeavor. Spines learn spells through a process known as 'attuning'.

    • The rudimentary method of 'attuning': Spells are developed by forcing oneself into a state where ideations and visions of their Mark occur, and then visualizing the intended process and effect of the spell occurring. With enough repetition (the more powerful the spell, the more time needed to craft), the Spine will be able to replicate the effect in actuality. At more advanced levels, Spines are able to attune on the fly through intense visualization in the heat of combat. This is considered the highest talent a combat-oriented Spine can have, and few are ever able to impromptu attune even once in their lifetimes.

    • The core fundamental rule is that spells are necessarily linked in some way to the Mark. If one's Mark is 'Fire', they will be able to develop and perform spells that have to do with concepts such as 'burning something', or 'making something hotter' - they may also be able to explore spells that have more to do with the abstract concepts associated with fire, perhaps instigating a target's rage, or inspiring them to action.

    • Casting spells consumes energy from the Spine's reserves of magical strength, which can be replenished through food, drink and rest. Indeed, spells can largely be classed as the transformation or transference of this energy.

    • Spells can be used without any particular incantation or material component - in this regard, they are similar to, say, a comic hero superpower. However, it is understood that extensive incantations or the usage of ingredients enhance the effectiveness of spells. The potential power of a spell is said to be a product of: time spent casting (similarly, length of incantation), natural talent of the Spine, energy consumed, quantity of material components, prior expertise with the spell and imposed conditions/restrictions.

    • Conditions/Restrictions: when a spell is crafted, it can be strengthened through applying conditions and restrictions, in the form of a pact. Example: "I can't eat or drink for seven days after performing this spell," or "I can never use magic again after performing this spell". The more severe the condition, the more strength is lent to the spell.

    Otherwise, the potential for spells are near-limitless, and even Spines who bear the same Mark seldom utilize the same spells, as individuality is a chief component of magic. Two Spines who both bear the Mark 'Fire' could differ heavily; one might craft a spell that is simply creating a giant inferno, while another might take a stylistic approach, conjuring and manipulating beautiful serpentine constructs of flame.

    As limitless as the possibilities are, experts often attempt to classify spells, and have arrived at a rough grouping of spell categories, detailed in the next tab.
  • [It should be noted that spells are complicated affairs, not easily tied down and categorized. Some spells may fit into multiple categories (likely, given how vague the categories are), some may in fact fit into none. The chief OOC influences here are the magic categories from standard Dungeons and Dragons.

    A few rules of thumb will be noted here - expert Spines will be typically aware of these 'rules', but also aware that they are not hard and fast, more akin to guidelines.]

    Evocation: Evocation spells consists of magical energies being forcibly propelled at range. As the magical energy is expelled, it takes on unique properties before reaching its target.
    • Elemental spells (gouts of fire, lightning, ice, etc) typically fall under this category.

    • With that said, Evocation spells do not need to exactly replicate naturally occurring elements. It is possible, for example, for a spell to generate flames that are as cold as ice. They can also take on properties of an entirely bizarre, natural-law defying imagined phenomena.

    • Spells of a more insidious nature ('curses', essentially) generally also fall into this category. Their insidious nature is typically a product of magical energy taking on properties of invisibility as they are expelled unto the target.

    • The creation of Illusions, as well, are considered part of Evocation, giving magical energies the form of phantom sounds and imagery as they are released.

    • Generally speaking, as magical energy leaves the body, it becomes weaker the further it leaves the Spine's influence (the Evocation Principle). For this reason, many Evocation spells are 'channeled' and maintained (a perpetual beam stemming from the Spine's body and held through some focus point, as opposed to an errant volley of projectiles), so that magical energy can be constantly fed into the spell. This has its own downsides (immobility, concentration).

    • Evocation spells are most commonly cast through hand-motions; in a sense, hand-motions (or any similar somatic component) are a 'restriction' of sorts that help strengthen the spell.

    Conjuration: Conjuration spells transform magical energy into a set of materials, items, constructs or even living creatures.
    • Generally speaking, magical energy is constantly fed in order to maintain a conjured item or creature's existence. Complexity and size are the two main factors in determining extent of energy expenditure.

    • As is typically the case with magic, the conjured subject need not have a corresponding natural/existing counterpart.

    • Conjurers are typically vaguely aware of where their creations are at any given moment, although their range of control seldom extends past their line of vision. It is also par for the course for conjurers to be able to perceive from the pov and senses of their creations.

    • It is theoretically possible to conjure a living being of full sentience and autonomy.

    Transmutation: Transmutation spells alter the property or condition of some creature or thing (sprouting wings, turning skin into stone, turning water into wine, purifying water). Has boatloads of overlap with Evocation.
    • As before, bestowed/inflicted properties and conditions need not have naturally-occurring counterparts.

    • It is considered impossible for a spell, without a severe attached condition, to cause permanent transmutation of the living. In most cases, time duration of a transmutation directly corresponds to the amount of magical energy used for the spell.

    • Save for the most advanced practitioners, transmutation spells must typically be initiated through touch (or casted upon oneself). This is because of the Evocation principle, where magical energy diminishes upon leaving the body, rendering ranged transmutation spells typically either ineffectual or short-lived.

    • Building off of the Evocation principle, however, it is also possible to 'channel' transmutation spells unto ones target, allowing the transmutation to persist while the spell is actively maintained.

    • The ability to manipulate or control the mind of a target is also considered Transmutation. Spells that allow for mental control are unique in that they always require an attached condition; the condition or set of conditions that allow one to gain control of their target (for example; sticking one's finger up the target's left nostril). The more specific and difficult the condition, the more powerful the control.
 
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The Basic(as-fuck)s The History The Toys
  • Name: Colleen Hoang
    Alias: Lady Scribble
    Age: 27 (DOB: June 26, 1990)
    Sex: Female
    Species: Homo Sapien
    Previous Occupation: Freelance Journalist (read: blogger), College Essay Writer, Intrepid (and-Definitely-Not-Allowed-at-this-or-Any-Crime-Scene) 'Detective'

    Personality: Colleen is capricious whimsy made manifest, and the kind of person one can consistently expect to be eminently inconsistent. She is as prone to melancholic doldrums as she is to fairydust-addled giddiness, both emotional cycles that can be triggered by memories resurfacing, comments of a passing tragedy, or a perpetual feeling of aimlessness. In melancholia or in ecstasy alike, Colleen can prove overbearing, carrying a sort of loud presence that is almost certainly a by-product of a self-centered consciousness.

    Her various inconsistencies, however, perhaps bely her capability for extreme focus. She is a dependable friend who, in both sadness and joy alike, is willing to stand behind her peers. Furthermore, she is someone of cause, who is willing to commit herself to a problem or mystery if the mood strikes her to even the slightest degree. A one-time card-carrying 'overachiever', she is at her best with an ideology or mission to rally behind (read: sensationalize the hell out of), and arms herself with a shrewd cunning, endless curiosity, and an unfortunate deficiency in the wisdom department.
  • Many a time during the early suburban education of Colleen Hoang, a Chevrolet Cavalier would await her right outside at the front of the school, both mother and father alike eager to learn of their daughter's grand time. Inevitably, young Colleen would put upon her most well-crafted smile and feed into the desired illusion: of a merry, fruitful day spent with friends aplenty. Reality, as ever, had no time for illusion, evidenced by Ray Richardson and his unruly lot's colorful, merciless mastery of the English language - a D+ in grammar studies, a solid A in racial slurs.

    It took about three months before said slurs, dispatched strategically and at distance between the time Colleen entered the backseat and the rental Cavalier drove off, were fully understood by Mr and Mrs. Hoang. The very next day of their sobering revelation, young Colleen Hoang found herself pulled from her 'merry, fruitful suburban education'.

    Being home-schooled - or rather schooled from a solitary table next to the cash register of Pacific-Asia-Eatery (an establishment Colleen now sardonically refers to as the 'P.A.E') - was perhaps a solid decision in the short-term. Busy restaurateurs as Mr and Mrs. Hoang were, however, simply could not wrangle the engagement and stimuli necessary for young, aspiring Colleen Hoang.

    And so, from an early, early age, Colleen Hoang was bored, hungry for stimulus, and sick of house fried rice.

    Some four-thousand and such bowls of house fried rice positioned precariously next to the study materials later, the still-starved daughter finally found herself forcibly unbound from the rigid chains of Pacific-Asia-Eatery-Academy; through rigorous testing, she had gained admittance to the ESU. Frumpily-dressed and unrehearsed in the ways of pre-adult party-goings though she was, those were the days she calls the 'Fun-Colleen-Days'.

    A journalism-major, Colleen's goal was more than understandable for one whose borders were formerly limited to the four walls of the PCE; become an international reporter of some kind, whether that be as a diplomatic reporter, or a wartime one, dodging all sorts of actual bullets. A brilliant student and writer when thoroughly engaged (and engaged she was, for the first time in so many years), she won herself a spot as an understudy to a journalist crew bound for lofty Tibet. Years later, following her graduation, that same academic pedigree won her a spot at the Daily Bugle…

    … where she found herself assigned on non-stories, and tenuous reports on the who's who of the social world (many of which, in her opinion, may have very well constituted libel). Slowly but surely, Colleen found herself giving in to the rigors of absolute tedium.

    Somehow, the Daily Bugle had become her new Pacific-Asia-Eatery.

    Only, unlike Mr. and Mrs. Hoang, the Daily Bugle could fire her ass. Which they did, naturally.

    And so ended the 'Fun-Colleen-Days', and began the 'Constantly-Drunk-and-Moody-Colleen-Days'. It was, shall we say, a messy little affair - though at least she recognized it. To rectify it, she decided to revisit the place that had convinced her that it was all worth it: a solo journey into lofty Tibet.

    She camped at Pangong Tso, lounged about the Potala Palace, stood at the feet of Everest, and meditated at the edge of Lake Manasarovar. The meditations were her favorite, as it happened. Cleared her mind better than the gin-and-vodka, and with less vomit to boot. The perfect combination of what was there - the breeze, the sun peering over the white of the mountains - and what wasn't - the nine-to-five misery, dickish editors pointing their stubby fingers into her forehead.

    That's what she had been thinking during one particular meditation (although, in theory, the goal of meditation was to not think so much), when she felt a particularly stubby finger press into her forehead.

    When she opened her eyes, a pair of disembodied gloves of brown leather, flecked with gold, floated before her eyes.

    Doubtlessly some Sorcerer Supreme figure would have advised her not to do anything rash, but Colleen Hoang's social circles tended not to include mystical defenders of the Earth, and so she decided to put them on. And as she took the gloves upon the fore of her hands, magical knowledge and understandings of ages past rushed through the fabric of her mind and…

    it felt way too fucking weird so she tore them off. Still, she nonetheless packed the 'floatie-hands' into her carry-on luggage the day she left Tibet and boarded Flight 871.

    … which was just as well, as they apparently granted her some gnarly powers, perfect for combating some lame-ass half-ass like the Ender. She had even somehow lucked her way into being considered one of the Thirteen, which was perhaps just the hidden revelation she had been looking for when she took that flight to Tibet.

    And with that revelation came the 'Fun-but-also, honestly-crazy-Colleen-Days', where she took it upon herself to be, well, almost a hero… but mostly just kind of an-indignant-person. Blogging about the shitty Sentinel Services ("SS; really?"), doing (ill-advised and mostly entirely unsuccessful) freelance detective work, writing essays for dumb college kids, and punching people in the face with floatie-hands.
  • Colleen Hoang is a normal human, who has come into possession of the floatie-hands.

    Equipment:

    The Floatie-Hands (aka. The Hands of… someone that Colleen doesn't know and also can't find on social media)

    A pair of magical artifacts that have sought out Colleen Hoang for… Lord knows why. In their default resting state, they are a pair of brown-leather gloves, the fingers lined with rather ornate patternings of gold and vibrant gems (also, they float). The abilities they offer are as follows:

    • The floatie-hands can be mentally directed by Colleen, capable of being remote-controlled at fairly high speeds, for the purposes of grabbing (or violently punching) Things(™). They pack a rather heavy punch, as well, ostensibly magically-augmented.
    • When donned, the floatie-hands are capable of bringing written word (loose definition; could refer to words written with utensils such as pencils, or typed onto a computer monitor) to life - with the trade-off being some semblance of energy plucked from the user. Letters emerge from the paper/screen and form themselves into constructs to represent objects/creatures. More abstract ideas can be represented as well, though they are more difficult, as well as taxing (the word 'Storm' for example, could represent a veritable storm of letters hurtling at people).
    • They are capable of touching the magically or spiritually intangible, such as ghosts. What I'm trying to say is that she can punch ghosts (kids, please don't punch dead people).

    Also, trust her to keep a nice professional-grade camera on hand, a notepad, and an HB pencil. It might be the virtual age, but HB pencils are for the pros.
 
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  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: rissa
Profile Backstory

  • Matthew Holler

    Age: 24
    Sex: Male
    Occupation: Student, BSc, University of Chicago
    Major: Biological Science, Concentration in Computational Neuroscience

    He had never been much of a people-person. That was simply never in his nature - quite, aloof, alone. He had an intelligence about him, but for the most part kept it buried through his silence and his ill humor. This is not to say he found any particular comfort in his nature; some part of him had always longed for that unexplainable something outside himself, that - through self-sabotage or otherwise - he could never discover. Some umpteenth mental breakdown later, he realized the fundamental problem; he was so fucking bored.

    Nowadays, Matthew Holler is an addict of sorts, seeking stimuli with obsessive verve. Masking his boredom and lack of substance with loud, obtrusive flash, he desperately seeks out that something, and would die for anybody that could give it to him.

  • fuck
 
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Operative File
[fieldbox="Overwatch Operative File: Kaamil Dahr, Darkcyan, solid, 5, Tahoma"]

Callsign: Vritra​
[VITAL]
Name: Kaamil Dahr

Callsign: Vritra

Age: 27

Sex: M

Sexuality: Heterosexual

DOB: July 17, 2050

Blood type: A-


[APPEARANCE]

Height: 6'0" | 182.9 cm

Weight: 185.2 lbs | 84 kg

Eyes: Amber.

Hair: Dark brown, wavy and worn long to his shoulders. Typically done in a bun when alone or in the midst of casual company.

Distinguishing Features: [Faceclaim] A series of tattooed floral arrangements and intricate patterning upon his arms and fingers.

Deployment Outfit: Enters deployment garbed in his bread and butter, a suit of power armor, off-white and gold. Mostly a sleek set of gear, save for the clunky extensions near-abouts the back that appear to serve aerial purposes.


[PERSONALITY]

Positive Traits:​
  • Armed with unwavering courage, Kaamil is ideal for a vanguard role, his spirit almost too oblivious to be broken by insurmountable odds.
  • Highly instinctive, operative excels in the face of complications and chaos.
  • Genial, Kaamil is generally cordial and - loud-spoken though he is - highly articulate. An uplifting force within any squad.
  • Stalwart and unrelenting, an ideal operative for missions of high-difficulty, given his almost single-minded sense of tenacity.

Negative Traits:​
  • His courage and tenacity is accompanied by simple-mindedness and impulse, rendering him unfit for deployments that require a requisite amount of finesse.
  • Self-indulgent. Kaamil can be described as arrogant, prone to making sub-optimal decisions in taking the brunt of difficult tasks upon himself.
  • Overbearing. Kaamil is perhaps overly indulgent in social interaction, being prone to oversharing and overinquiring alike.

Likes:​
  • Attention.
  • High degrees of difficulty.
  • Celebrities.
  • The party-life.

Dislikes:​
  • Subtlety.
  • Schemers.
  • People who speak in techno-babble and jargon.

Habits:​
  • Sometimes pantomimes a series of combat maneuvers in spear-based martial arts, for no good reason at all.
  • Prone to accidentally vocalizing idle thoughts.
  • Literally struggles to tear his gaze away from his own reflection.

Fears:​
  • Being forgotten or shunned by friends and acquaintances.
  • Failing to live up to his own lofty standards of valor.

[OVERWATCH CRITERIA]

Fighting Style: Lancer

Weapon:​
A skilled architech, Kaamil's refers to his weapons-of-choice as the Photon Lances. They are more accurately described as halberds of hard-light construction, generated by projectors built-in to the gauntlets of his power armor. Highly potent, they are capable of dashing through materials such as metal and brick, and even diamond given repeated applications of force. Notably, they interact with other instances of hard-light as if anathema, churning through them with disturbing ease.

With the right wielder, the Photon Lances are viable as implements in long-ranged combat, thrown as if javelins. They can be primed to go unstable, generally carrying a minor blast radius of around five meters or so upon hitting their target.

Abilities:​

  • Lance: Primary mode of combat. Combinations of lunges and slashes expertly practiced and ingrained as if second nature.
  • Overload: Secondary application. Kaamil 'charges' a lance before hurling it, unleashing an explosive payload. Longer charge times increase potency and blast radius.
  • Dragoon: Power armor carries highly effective system of pneumatic propulsion, enabling Kaamil to leap massive distances. Highly taxing, this method of movement comes with a cooldown period.
  • Gungnir: Kaamil pushes the palms of his gauntlets outwards, generating massive amounts of hard-light that surge forward as if a gargantuan spear. Overclocks the projectors in his gauntlets, preventing the generation of lances for a time.

Reasons for Joining Overwatch:​

A promising graduate of the Architech Academy, the Vishkar Corporation had always expected that Kaamil's facility with hard-light manipulation would be theirs to utilize. He was, perhaps, of a certain disorderly flair and erratic nature, but his own unique take on the craft was always perceived as being potentially useful in a field agent. His own forceful personality and ambitions, however, would not allow him to be content in furthering Vishkar's corporate interests.

And so, he instead opted to join Indian Army, having long romanticized the idea of fighting in the name of the nation that had been displaced by the Omnic Crisis. Uniquely talented, he was a spear, the vanguard, who fought valiantly in, rather typically, justice's pretty-sounding name. A well-scouted soldier and security expert, he was naturally approached by Overwatch in the wake of their member shortage.
[/fieldbox]
 
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===

The Kingdom of Inferia Tier 3, the Soup Bowl Tier 2.5, the In-Between Tier 2, the Ringed City Tier 1, the Palace A Crash Overview
  • Some hundreds of years ago your forefathers, with all their magicks and the hardened skin upon their calloused fingers, dug deep into the earth to create the Kingdom of Inferia. Four cavernous masses hollowed out beneath the dirt, one atop the other, each fit to hold a city. At its most populous, fifty-thousand beings of various races filled the four tiers of Inferia. Currently, only three tiers remain, inhabited by around fifteen-thousand citizens; about half comprise the lowest class, while only around three-hundred-or-so are counted amongst the elite. Power resides in the hands of these select few, who conspire and petition to a single ruler regarding matters of the Kingdom.

    A spire of glass pierces through the center of the Kingdom, its base embedded upon the waters of the Soup Bowl, and leading out into the toxic world above. This is The Elevator, which connects each tier of Inferia. A massive glass platform is compelled by magic to move according to its passengers whims, being able to transport entire caravans of goods, or squadrons of the Inferian Guard. The light of the sun from above the surface shines down through the glassy spire, shining a dim white upon the lower levels - the colorless sun, and the only method of telling the passage of time.

    The Kingdom's own natural resources are few and far between, and thus essentials are mostly provided by the Merchant Dragon, Balliol, the only being known to be able to survive the poisonous world above. A truly powerful and resourceful creature, he is able to provide for thousands of Inferia's citizens, although his offerings are not without cost. Still, to this day the Kingdom persists, though unrest perpetually stirs amongst the lower tiers.
  • The lowest cavern of Inferia presents itself before you in all its humming ambience. Those fortunate enough to have never visited 'rock bottom' are invariably stricken by a sensory overload. It begins with the perpetual glow of subterranean blue and the glowing, surreal white of phosphorescent fungi that line the walls, which reflect doubly against the water - in its natural, unmolested state, it would've been beautiful.

    Alas, the stench of population density and Inferian's lowlies pervade. The Soup Bowl is the third and lowest tier of the Kingdom, and the most heavily populated, reserved for the lower class. Spatially, it is the largest of the four tiers, although density still poses a major problem; this is because much of the Soup Bowl - true to its name - is water, cutting through and intersecting much of the landed surfaces. These waters are a serene blue turned mucky green by… well, let's agree to simply call it: "The Waste Problem" - and, nasally, it is a problem. The citizens build second-rate households and stalls on whatever patches of land are available to them or - in strokes of poverty-induced genius - construct boardwalks and ships, allowing them to turn the water into real-estate.

    Still, crowded and poor though the Soup Bowl might be, at least it's not boring. The lowlies hustle and bustle, peddling what meager wares they can scrounge up; mostly errant bats and fungi picked from the walls (both staple foods of the Soup Bowl). A Gondola-service exists, rickety ships willing to traverse the waters from town to town. The underground crime scene is alive and well, mostly dealing in wares stolen from those above, and the Soup Bowl's greatest export: swill-fish.

    The waters are filled with the fish-of-the-swill, creatures of a certain grand wish fulfillment; they are, put simply, fish that release a burgeoning load of alcohol when gutted. Every fish that swims amongst the Soup Bowl is a swill-fish, though they vary wildly in terms of size and color. While the average, middling, plain-looking fish can be counted on to produce piss-water good for a night out, the more colorful and larger of the bunch are bloated with sweet-wines and liquors. Granted, swill-fish of the latter variety seem to be more protective of their innards, and even aggressive; it is not uncommon for a swill-fish to dive out of the waters and snatch an unsuspecting citizen off the boardwalk for a quick-meal.

    In times past, it was common to see citizens lined up, angling for swill-fish. Nowadays, the Inferian Guard outlaws the act. The Soup Bowl Division of the Guard can be seen on their vessels, everyday without fail, netting the swill-fish en masse, and delivering them to the tiers above.
  • The unspoken grounds, The Forgotten In-Between is the product of seismic shifts and shoddy architecture. It was originally the third tier, before the surface of the tier above began to sink downwards. Now, it is an abandoned zone, a city of mud-buildings squashed to half-height and inhabitability by the ceiling above. It can still be accessed by the Elevator, although entering is strictly forbidden, and who would bother? It is an orange-brown place of desolation, with specks of dust trapped in the air, and the lingering sense of claustrophobia; one could almost imagine the ceiling still sloping ever so slightly.

    Those that subsist in the In-Between are both of an unsavory lot, and resourceful enough to make their ways there. Certain criminal elements prefer to spend their time here, away from both the prying eye of the Inferian Guard, and the sweltering stink of the Soup Bowl.
  • The immaculately paved streets of Inferia's second tier are illuminated by the orange glow of floating lanterns, and the sweet scent of spice. Its buildings, built from carefully sculpted and magically-protected clay brick, are arranged in circular, almost labyrinthine patterns, leaving ample roadways and intersections throughout. This is the 'Ringed City', where the middle-class (for cynics: those with skillsets exploitable by the one-percenters) reside.

    The circular labyrinth is a construct of careful planning and organization. Firstly, the skillsets of Ringed City citizens are carefully tracked through periodic census. Invariably, core functionalities such as doctors are placed in the inner ring closest to the Elevator, for the convenience of the first-tier. Merchants are typically situated near the middle rings, while Spines - particularly those noted for their prowess or capacity for violence - are located near the outermost rings.

    Secondly, due to land-constraints, all families are allowed but a single building, to serve as both residence and place of business. Aspiring entrepreneurs who wish to leave the nest, as well as soon-to-be-married couples wishing to start their own family and livelihoods are required to apply at the 'Office of Spatial Concerns'. This is a lengthy and arduous process that usually takes years, unless some unfortunate family just happens to all bite the bullet unexpectedly. For that reason, 'official' marriage seldom happens in the Ringed City, and sons and daughters are typically happy to simply continue the family business.

    Otherwise, the Ringed City is about as good as it gets for most Inferians. A fair share of Balliol the Mercantile Dragon's offerings are disseminated about the city; produce and livestock are readily prepared by chefs and restaurateurs; fabrics, dyes and even full articles of clothing plucked from the remains of the surface-world garb the eclectic middle-class. Crime, at least on the surface, appears to be minimal, and the Inferian Guard here seem to mostly deal with petty crimes and the occasional rabble-rouser.
  • Those lucky few graced with the opportunity to visit the first tier are sworn to silence, on threat of death. Still, rumors abound. It is said that upon exiting the Elevator, one can see the cavern walls painted white in a shell of ivory, matching the Palace that seems to encompass the entire level. Its people are garbed in immaculate suit and dress, leisurely indulging in the finest of Balliol's offerings.

    Those who inhabit the first tier have claimed their thrones through bloodright and nepotism; ages ago, their ancestors were the foremost of the civilization that created Inferia. Every now and then, rare individuals who manage to convey their talent and worth are allowed into the fold; personal chefs, perhaps, or skilled Spires employed to protect from the more violent side of political intrigue.

    Twelve families vy for dominion over the rest, and ultimate authority in certain matters of state; the distribution of Balliol's goods, for instance, or control of the Inferian Guard. Every generation, the heirs of each family engage in the 'Measuring'. Simply put, it is a contest of sorts to determine the future leader, with no particular rules save for one; the victor is decided when all others concede.
  • It's occurred to me that it's entirely possible that my write-ups don't manage to touch upon some vital details, or that those vital details could possibly be obscured by #words. I'll spit-ball some out in list form, just to cover all my bases. Feel free to contact me if you feel like I should be adding something in here.

    Politics: A single ruler, chosen by a succession contest ('The Measuring') comprising the heirs of the twelve most powerful families. The current ruler is Merigold Morbid Bulbous of the Bulbous family, an unfathomably fat man who lives for little more than the feast.

    Population: 15,000~. (Class Distribution between lowest/middle/elite: 60/39/1, roughly).

    Heraldry: The main insignia of Inferia is the image of two hands, clad in bronze-gauntlets, digging into the dirt.

    Currency/Economy: Balliol's ability to seemingly conjure up resources out of thin air - effectively giving the middle/elite class of Inferia 'hand-outs' - dramatically wonks Inferia's 'economy'. Businesses seem to largely operate as a matter of attaining social standing and respect, and currying favor from the elite. The elite hand out merit-tokens to business-owners for extended, obedient or exemplary service - these tokens are typically used as currency. The Soup Bowl class receive little in the way of currency, being forced to barter goods/services.

    Climate: Typically cool.

    Fashion and Dress: The Soup Bowl class typically don little more than rags, unless they've managed to steal something. Otherwise, fashion is eclectic; while the typical fashion-du-jours is 'European-medieval', there are examples of other cultural influences and even out-right anachronisms.

    Technology: The layman has a good understanding of pulley systems, the wheel and the like, although physical science knowledge is rudimentary at best - some more experimentive types, particularly Spines in regards to fields with tangential relevance to their Mark, demonstrate knowledge far ahead of their time. In short: medieval-era.

    Religion: Varied, generally based on race. Kotodama is the most well-known of the old deities, while others have faded into irrelevance with the passing of time. Many individuals attest to having visions of certain deity-like figures as a result of their Mark, and thus there are many deities with minor (but rather passionate) followings. [Feel free to make them up.]

    Death and Burial: The disposable dead are often stowed away in the In-Between, collected by the Dead Department of the Inferian Guard. Taking care of the dead is of utmost importance, due to the risk of disease, and measures such as magical preservation and purification are standard procedure. The dead are sent up the Elevator when Balliol calls with his offerings; presumably he disposes of them. Disposing of one's dead through other means is strictly illegal, although not unheard of.

    Language: In Dungeons and Dragons terms, 'Common' - a basic, generic unified language that is essentially represented as 'English'. Non-human races can have their own distinct languages.

    Education: Schools exist, typically teaching things such as counting and language. Academies also exist for aspiring Spines.

    Expansion: The idea of expanding the Kingdom (by, rather simplistically put, digging outwards) is often proposed - it has died down in recent decades, as the population of Inferia steadily declines.
 
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Balliol the Mercantile Dragon The Inferian Guard
  • You are told that one creature alone holds dominion over the remains of the surface-world, Balliol the Mottled-Scale, Balliol the Merchant, and supposedly the last of the great dragons, who survived through the sheer power of his greed. Greed, perhaps, is good after all. He is said to be unfathomably large, his form layered over with pock-marked scales of grey. Curiously, he dresses himself with some black vestment, and he views the world from a large circle of glass over his right eye. His voice is a low rumble like thunder that sounds throughout the Kingdom when he marks his arrival.

    The Mercantile Dragon, more than any other being living, is responsible for Inferia's continued survival. His connection dates back to the forefathers who dug the Kingdom, who struck the first deal with him that continues to this day. Balliol loathes hoarding, and understands that nothing carries value without trade. To that end, he gathers and conjures resources from the lost civilizations of the surface world, and offers them to the Kingdom. Something is given in exchange, although few are in the know as to what exactly that is. Still, who can complain? He provides food, drink, clothing and medicine enough for thousands.

    Interestingly, Balliol despises alcohol and like substances, and refuses to furbish them, thus rendering swill-fish one of Inferia's only true commodities.
  • The elite-class has always understood that being dramatically outnumbered bodes ill for personal safety. To that end, the Inferian Guard was established when the Kingdom was born; nominally, they keep the peace, and quell unrest, certain divisions are also responsible for civil services. They are, however, primarily a tool for the first-tier citizens to maintain power, typically acting according to their ordinances and mandates.

    Both the Soup Bowl and the Ringed City alike are willing to recruit into the Inferian Guard, with two primary criterion; adequate physical conditioning or, failing that, some degree of potential or skill as a Spire, both typically proven through a brief informal testing. It is beneficial that the strongest of the Soup Bowl class are indoctrinated into the guard - the rest of the Guard are typically filled by the middle-class, or scions of the upper-class in positions of leadership.

    The following are certain divisions of the Inferian Guard.

    The Soup-Bowl Division: the largest of the divisions, with three particular mandates: 1) guard the entrance of the Elevator, 2) quell civil unrest amongst the lowlies and 3) consolidate the trade and procurement of swill-fish. They are typically seen patrolling the waters of the Soup-Bowl, sailing in vessels bearing the Inferian insignia. They are commanded by a man who (like a prick) self-identifies as The Superintendent; he is known to be a bombastic and self-absorbed man, a blood-knight who thrives off unrest and riots.

    The Dead Division: specialized members of the Inferian Guard who primarily focus on retrieving the dead, sometimes forcefully prying them from the arms of grieving loved ones. Squads of 'Deaders' invariably contain a Spine, as their magic is used to sterilize and cleanse the corpses. Their uniforms appear to be shrouds of black that obscure much of the face; the designer was a bit of a germaphobe.

    The Elite Division: the most skilled warriors and Spines of the Inferian Guard are allowed into the paradise of the first-tier, to pledge their service in protecting the upper-class from those below, and also themselves. It is commonly said that the Elite Division is prone to complacency and falling into rust, as they only seem to see action during times of crisis or during the political machinations of the 'Measuring'.

    Among others; The Burrow (a crew of talented investigators and people-finders), The Matrimony Department (who, perhaps untrue to their name, really focus on delivering punitive measures unto unauthorized marriages), etc.
 
General Information

Full Name: Paladin Falles Sumarvil
Nickname(s): Fal
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Race: Human
Sexuality: Homosexual
Allegiance: The Queendom of Donnwick

Appearance: [[Image Here.]] Fal is a handsome enough man, strong features with a certain softness about them - perhaps compounded by the fact that he is completely and utterly incapable of growing facial hair. He is a powerful 6'5", although his formerly chiselled form has begun to soften in his indolence, and muscles have begun to marry with the burgeoning expansion of fat. There is a strange awkwardness to his proportions, his arms and legs skinnier and lankier than his robust torso would perhaps indicate. Hazel eyes and noble features are softened by languid expression to something almost resembling docility, although the done-up style of his hair perhaps point to a wildness derived from his worldly travels.

He is eminently comfortable in the shell of his chain armor, to the point where anything else seems almost unnatural. To the point, his seems to garb in ale-stained rags, greying and browning, whenever forced out of his armor.

Personal Information

Personality: Falles is, above all, horrifically depressed. He is cordial enough, but always speaks as if he is intending to end the conversation then and there. He is no coward, but fights with no steel, no will, as if a tired man who has resolved himself to die somewhere, someday, with today being the optimal date. He has forgotten happiness entirely, though also confesses that sadness, too, has left his mind. Anger and fear, as well, are long lost companions. Such sullen, dispassionate 'bravery' has made him an effective soldier in the fight against the monsters. He exists in a perpetual state of eerie calm, as if the world moves at a crawl around him; he speaks deliberately, and acts languidly.

For all his ennui and emptiness, however, Falles is not unkind. He has travelled far and wide, and his travels have killed any latent intolerance. He is eminently practical and pragmatic, and the one true nemesis left in his life that stirs him to feeling is perhaps irrationality; to that end, he is always willing to gently chide his comrades, serving as a voice of reason.

Backstory: His is an old story indeed; "The monsters killed my family." Yet those who bore his name did not die by maw or claw, terrifying visage or shattering scream, did not die underfoot giants and Cerberi. Their village had seen a lone shadow in the distance, and Falles, the most youthful and eagle-eyed of the village patrol, glimpsed upon Her face, dirty porcelain and spectral white. And so they fled for safety. When Falles' father the farmer could at last return, the animals one and all had been torn asunder, and the harvest showered over with blood and rot.

Livelihood ruined, his father hung himself from the withered tree over the village grey. His mother, sickly and frail and overburdened, lost herself to the elements, lungs frosted over with weakness. His brother left, walking beneath the shadow of tree and rope, wordlessly into the night. Three lives, pressed insidiously and ground into dust beneath Her rotting finger and splintered nail.

Thusly did he remember Her face for the years to come, and thus - with bony visage in his mind - did he also leave the village remnants, beneath the shadow of that tree. Since his very early years an able hand at quarterstaff and blade alike, he joined 'the Red Tassel', a minor mercenary troupe that travelled through the lands Donnwick, Eredian and Rynal. Perhaps predictably, the Red Tassel - among other companies Falles would chance to join - would find their ranks dessicated, brought to ruin by monster or finance alike. It mattered little; all he required was to grow strong and able in his craft enough - both blade and magicks - so that Her death could be of purchase.

Years later, as fate would have it, he found Her - for it must have been Her, he remembered the visage so clearly - in Baemar, at the outskirts of the City of Riches. And so the mercenary set upon Her with purpose and finality; Falles had filled his own ears with conjured insects, and eventually ran the length of his spear through the banshee's mouth. It was not a particularly difficult battle, and Falles found that he had derived no joy in his victory, the fruit of years' labor. It disappointed him.

He would return to Donnwick, unsatisfied, to further ply the craft that he had learned in pursuit of vengeance. He began in the Queen's Army, listless and empty - it was perhaps the sullen bravery of boredom that made him excel beyond his peers, despite the weight it bore on him. Within the year, he was nominated to the Hellhounds, where he remains to this day. He has come to realize, now, a horrid truth:

In Her - no, her - ultimate insignifiance, and the meager manner of her death, she had killed him too.

Strengths: Falles is a skilled warrior, whose greatest strengths have always been a great deal of agility and manual dexterity. Possessed of fine body control, he is capable of parrying and dodging at the very last moment in battle and then promptly re-adjusting his form, allowing for no glaring openings in combat.

Weaknesses: With that said, Falles of the Hellhounds has grown indolent in his depression, coasting on the vestiges of experience and natural talent. He is more quick and agile than fast or explosive - in a full-on test of pace, he could even be considered as slow-footed - and well-honed stamina is no longer a trait of his.

Magic & Equipment

Magic: Falles is a practitioner of Conjuro, being able to call upon what he refers to as 'the Swarm-Capricious', on the surface an intensely large rabble of butterflies. In truth, the Swarm-Capricious is a single entity, and each member of the rabble is as if an appendage of the creature. Its capabilities in the thick of combat are numerous when utilized in conjunction with the sorcerer's own physical abilities - through controlling its constituent parts en masse and forming them together it is capable of, for example, creating large appendages with which to hinder an opponent, a shield to guard from the elements, a shroud to obscure his approach, or a flying platform from which to attain a vantage point.

However, Falles is a dabbling sorcerer, and Conjuro is described by some as the most difficult of the magic schools. This poses a variety of difficulties. Falles' level of command over the Swarm-Capricious pales when it comes to fluidity and responsiveness (accentuated the further the Swarm is from his person), and diminishes even further the longer an engagement extends.

Weapon of Choice: Spear.

Gear:
  • Light armor.
  • Spear.
  • A pair of daggers.
  • Long-bow and a quiver of 10-20 arrows.
  • A meager allotment of coin.
 
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Overview Background Mark and Skills
  • Name: Remi
    Gender: Male
    Age: 37
    Race: Human

    Appearance: In a word, roguish; looks as if nothing holy or unholy in the world could faze him (which is untrue; his cavalier expressions are the defense mechanism of a scared insect). Also: an absolute fucking twig-runt.
  • Personality: Inferian Guardsmen are expected to be strong, but there is something to be said about a lawman who understands weakness - and boy does Remi-without-a-last-name understand weakness.

    Remi shies away from confrontation whenever possible, which is perhaps the reason he attempted to secure a position of relative authority to begin with. He prefers to position himself in life by brownnosing, lying through his teeth, and when all that fails, simply cowering - and believe you me, it typically comes to the latter, as Remi is just eminently tactless and worthy of disdain. Not the worst person, per se, but far too cowardly to act on silly things like his moral compass, self-development, or personal growth of any sort.

    Short Summary: A malnourished wastelet (as in, "Remi is an absolute waste of space") from the Soup Bowl, there was no equitable or particularly fair reason that Remi should have been able to get even a semblance of ahead in life. His eminent lack of drive or likeability being seemingly genetic and manifested double in Remi's case, he nonetheless had an advantage absent in his predecessors; he was a prodigy when it came to magic. He had visions of wandering, above the Kingdom, amongst the unfathomable sky, and he embraced them without prompting. Thusly awakened, he was seen as a Spine with some potential, and enlisted by the Inferian Guard.

    Of course, while with the Inferian Guard, he promptly squandered all his potential and talent away, and is currently regarded as a laughingstock of the Soup Bowl division.
    Motivation: To do the very bare fucking minimum required of his station. As far as 'the girl' is concerned, that means: get her… but maybe not if it's too hard.
  • Mark: "Wanderer." It appears as if a winding trail of black down Remi's right forearm.
    Magic:

    "Like a stone, in a lonely room." - Remi's primary spell is a method of transportation, more specifically teleportation. In practice, Remi is able to transfer the occupants of a room into another room. Such a feat requires a variety of attached conditions and restrictions.
    • The process for the spell to activate is as follows; Remi must enter a dark, enclosed room, and create a light (typically done by lighting his lantern). As dark turns to light, the transportation will commence, the previous surroundings being replaced by the destination's.
    • Dimming the light while in the destination room returns the occupants to the origin room. Dimming the light after having left does nothing.
    • Remi is only capable of teleporting into rooms that he has previously visited and is still capable of roughly visualizing.
    • The origin and destination points must be reasonably comparable in dimensions. Like the origin point, the destination point must also be an enclosed room.
    • Remi is capable of bypassing this restriction by marking a square upon a chosen location (the square, representing four walls of an enclosed room, must be room-sized). Assuming the marking remains unmolested, the area may be chosen as the destination point.

    Skills/Weaponry:

    • Remi wields an oaken quarterstaff. He's shit at it.
    • As a necessary component to his spell, Remi has a wondrously honed memory, and excellent observational skills.
 
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[stabs=bcenter|800x500]{slide=Character Sheet|center}
Full Name
Benjamin Dominic
Mahjong
Benny, Ben​
Age
Thirty-Three
April 8th​
Gender
Male​
Occupation
Officer - Metahuman Crimes Division
Side-gig: Pop-Culture Blogger​
Role
Police​

FaceclaimHeight
6'0"​
Weight
159lbs​
Description
Comportment: steady, upright, composed. Ben walks with the slightest hint of a limp, a bit of wear and tear that seems irreversible. Almost always, save for in the comfort of his own home, dresses somewhat professionally - at the very least he's business casual, plain dress shirt and dark dress pants. For a period of thirty minutes or up to a day after using the tile-form aspect of his power, his features and expressions become remarkably rigid and awkward, as if only a singular part of his face is moving whereas the rest stay paralyzed.

Personality
Anxious, Vindictive, Pessimist, Deliberative, Disobedient, Loyal, Quirky, Well-Mannered, Introverted, Creative.
Biography
A metahuman hailing from North Metro, Benjamin grew up staring at luxuries that he would never be given the opportunity earn with his own two hands. His mother and father were retirement age hermit-folk, who had been paragons of society until it was discovered their newborn carried that godforsaken gene. The posh suburban folk shunned them and their house on the hill, and Ben found, soon enough, that the back-corner of the classroom was the safest place for him. Still, he was raised well, and honest, and any thoughts he harbored of going bad were quashed by his upbringing. Not that he was some heart-on-sleeve altruist hero; his kindness was for killing.

More vindictive than his parents could possibly imagine, Ben's initial reason for wanting to join law enforcement was one of spite: he'd make them suffer his presence if they cared so damn much, to let those cruel folk know that they were under his protection. He'd be better than all the rest of the officers that looked down upon him, and they'd come begging for him to close the cases that vexed them. And Benjamin was an excellent study, a promising candidate for law enforcement, even if no one would admit it.

Spite, as it turns out, is hardly a reason to decide one's life-goals. Eventually, the constant hate, the double-standards, the bar that seemed to constantly shift no matter how exceptionally he performed wore down at him. He lives in a sort of rut, constantly pushing himself to over-achieve, yet knowing his over-achievement will bring him nothing.​
Facts
● Stress eats (and in steadily declining health because of it). Likes to, as he calls it, 'quesadilla' everything: taking random food items, and squashing them in between cheese and tortillas on the pan.​
● Runs a pop-culture blog, primarily focused on modern music, music videos, and album reviews. Privy to plenty of flame; Ben's own strategy is to create faux-accounts to exorbitantly flame himself, with the objective of causing griefers and trolls to latch unto his post as opposed to creating some hurtful spiel of their own.​
● Was a talented soccer player in his youth, and was once scouted for the Under-23 national team. That went kaput almost immediately, as the scout soon realized he was a metahuman. Naturally, Ben has opted against pursuing a professional career in Major League Soccer.​
● Father's (Christopher Dominic) a retired realtor, mother's (Andriana Dominic) a food-blogger.​
● Applies peppermint oil unto his face to stay awake on the job.​
● Is a garbage shot.​
● Has somehow memorized the contact information, birthdate, coffee-order and preferred food/lunch spot of everyone in his division.​
● Fond of puzzles, model train-sets, scrabble, and the odd game of sudoku.​
● Constantly indulges in online-dating. Never actually sets up dates; prefers to engage in idle conversation until the attraction dies away.​
● Aside from blogging and eating unhealthy foods, plays online video games with his younger brother when possible.​

Powerset
Tile Master
Ben has the ability to manipulate matter, processing and dividing it into domino-sized tiles to work with. As such, he is able to break apart matter, or repair and renew it. Furthermore, Ben can render his own body into a set of floating tiles, capable of low levels of flight and elusive movement.
Dissemination​
Essentially, Ben can break apart the outermost layer of a substance or object, organic or inorganic, through touch. Typical surface area of matter disseminated at once, by a single point of contact, is 8 by 8 inches, and matter disseminated is split into tiles (which retain the properties of their origin). Ben is capable of telekinetically maneuvering these tiles (example: floating them, putting them together), provided they stay within five inches of Ben's person.
Renew​
Ben is able to combine tiles to create new objects, or repair existing ones.
Immaterial; Tile-Form​
Ben is able to disseminate his entire form into floating tiles, rendering him a living swarm of sorts. He has telekinetic control over each tile, allowing him to float (ascending, descending, or moving at roughly running speed), disperse to fit through gaps or avoid attacks, as well as flatten to adhere to surfaces.
Material Surfing​
A little trick of Ben's own design. Barefoot, Ben constantly disseminates the surface beneath him, while manipulating the formed tiles to 'roll' over at speed, allowing him to travel across surfaces quickly.

Weaknesses​
The most crippling weaknesses of Ben's power lie with his tile-form. By necessity, Ben's blood, muscles, bones and organs are all converted into tiles and left more vulnerable. Damage or destruction to enough of them (or, perhaps, the right ones) could lead to death by organ failure, blood-loss, etc. These crucial tiles are, additionally, all quite apparent at a surface glance; blood-tiles and organ-tiles are all very red and visceral looking.

As the tile-form is an outsized usage of his minor telekinetic power, Ben can only maintain it for up to thirty seconds at a time - after which point everything better be recomposed, or else it's gone.

Objects created by Ben's power have a key weakness (in addition to whatever weaknesses they take on due to their composition); they can be pulled apart with extraordinary ease provided they are pulled (or some other external force, like being hit from the back) along the direction they are connected (think Legos but... actually easier if you get the angle).

'By touch' refers to bare-skin. Furthermore, the only applicable points of contact that can use the power appear to be hands and feet.

Gear
Standard issue gear for a member of the Metahuman Crimes Division.​
{/slide}
[/stabs]




 
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​
ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ ʙɪᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜʏ ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇs ᴍɪsᴄᴇʟʟᴀɴᴇᴏᴜs

  • Division
    ▸Mirage
    Full Name
    ▸Gyi Khun Thura
    Alias
    ▸Hive
    Age | Birth-date (Current Year: 2105)
    ▸33 | 2072
    Sex
    ▸Male
    Ethnicity
    ▸Bamar
    Nationality
    ▸Myanmar
    Languages
    ▸ English,
    ▸ Chinese; Mandarin, various Burmese-dialects,
    ▸ Burmese,
    ▸ Tibetan.



  • Height
    ▸5'7"
    Weight
    ▸160lbs
    Eye color
    ▸Hazel
    Hair color
    ▸Black
    Distinguishing Features
    ▸A somewhat androgynous visage, a counterbalancing of sharp lashes, furrowed lips, and narrow nose against wandering, almost lazy eyes. Darker skin as is usual amongst Southeast Asians. Shaved bald, but often dons a dark, side-parted wig. Lean and toned, with particularly prominent definition about the shoulders. Comportment steadfast and upright.




  • ▸Possesses a mostly impressive ability to compartmentalize his thoughts and emotions that serve him well as a soldier.

    ▸Typically perceived as something of a sweetheart, easy with words, outgoing and soft-spoken all at once. Possessed of a generous and giving nature, although is also somewhat vain and narcissistic, and never hesitant to bring up his strengths and play down his shortcomings.

    ▸Still possessed of fairly good humor during strenuous operations and combat situations, but is largely a quiet professional. Narcissistic tendencies are mostly restrained, although Gyi has been known to take low-percentage-of-success actions, rationalized only by his self-confidence.

    ▸Elements of his upbringing pervade him to this day. Wary of non-Asians, but such perceptions are easily discarded after brief moments of neutral-to-positive interaction. However, possesses an extreme prejudice for Chinese nationals, often leading to inequitable treatment. To his tenuous credit, the prejudice is, as of yet, never vocalized.



  • Soldiers beget soldiers. Gyi Khun Thura was born into a military family, but bereft of the respect, honor and esteem that came attached with the bloodline. His father was Major General of Yangon Command, a soldier of some repute who established himself as a member of the First Field Medical Battalion of the Tatmadaw, providing life-saving care while under fire from ethnic Chinese insurgents. He was, however, an everyday man with no noble aspirations, a hero of circumstance who quickly leveraged his influence for the purposes of his greed, party to corruption and embezzlement.

    On the verge of being exposed and under pressure from internal elements, the Major General sacrificed Gyi, his third son, to solidify his image in the ranks of the Tatmadaw. Long since one of the pre-eminent military forces of Southeast Asia, Myanmar conducted fledgling supernatural experimentation, utilizing private contractors as proxy. Yielding Gyi to the initiative was the Major General's way of demonstrating loyalty and insulating himself. As it happened, his downfall arrived anyways, with Gyi destined all the same for an upbringing amongst the unknown and, at times, painful.

    At a time when Myanmar's initiatives revolved around severing dependence and distancing the nation from China, Gyi was raised with poison in his ears, Anti-Chinese rhetoric served alongside every carefully proportioned meal. His father's downfall was well-reported and widely discussed within the nation, and Gyi's handlers sought early on to exploit it; his mother and father were all painted as traitors who sold or encouraged the selling of secrets to China, while his brothers and sisters were marginalized to near-nothingness. On the other hand, Gyi's nature was warm, friendly, and thus did the duality emerge; the kind soul who despised both his family and the very idea of an entire nation.

    As a soldier, he fought for years in the Tatmadaw, combating insurgents through pre-emptive strikes, earning acclaim as one of the foundational successes of their experimental program. Eventually, he was considered seasoned enough to answer to his true calling, to transcend simply being a soldier of the Tatmadaw and become an operative capable of landing blows against the Colossus: China. From the ages of 27 to 30, Gyi was embedded in the heart of China, tasked with the assassination of moguls and political figures who sought to impinge upon or exploit Burmese interests. In these efforts, Gyi was wildly successful, a symbol who provided hope to the most clandestine core of Myanmar that giants could be toppled.

    A year later, he was offered to INFINITY, in efforts to 1) insulate him from Chinese agents who had begun to catch unto his modus operandi, and 2) demonstrate a much more open-handed willingness to cooperate than the Goliath of China.



  • Briefly (and somewhat misleadingly) described, Gyi is able to manipulate the smell and scent of himself and others through touch. By making brief contact on a person or object, Gyi is able to infuse a scent unto them, more accurately causing the target to secrete/excrete a combination of chemicals that are perceived primarily through olfaction (for example: pheromones). Whether by design or due to Gyi's facility, the ability seems more efficient when inflicted through direct skin contact rather than otherwise, mostly as a matter of duration (lengths of time ranging from 24 hours and possibly diminishing to a mere 30 seconds). The ability is also incredibly potent when used in conjunction with liquid bodies, the chemicals dispersing and spreading throughout the current.

    The utilities of this ability are manyfold. As Gyi is also gifted with the ability of parsing through scents and smells into their exact constituent chemical components (a sense of smell that is heightened in regards to detailed perception), he is also able to replicate them exactly, enabling him to generate scents that are as if pheromones to insects and animals. This allows him to perform creature-related feats such as drawing swarms of nearby insects to a target in various states of frenzy, rendering docile an area of beasts, attracting a particular species of animal from distances of up to two miles away. Furthermore, he is also able to, somewhat counterintuitively, render himself and others 'scent-less', for the purposes of evading detection from sentry dogs and the like.

    ---

    More mundanely speaking, is an adequate marksman by INFINITY standards, with extensive experience in combating insurgents given the history of Myanmar. Above that, he is considered highly proficient in matters of infiltration, integration and investigation. Furthermore, his facility in close-quarters combat is of a world-class standard, being able to efficiently engage and subdue without drawing undue attention.

    A near-unmatched exponent of Burmese martial arts, Gyi is a master in schools such as Bando (an animal-themed defensive art characterized by yielding initiative and focusing on counter-maneuvers), Lethwei (a strike-heavy martial art notable as 'the art of nine limbs' for its significant inclusion of the headbutt), Naban (a form of wrestling focused on chokeholds and pressure points) and Banshay (a sword style that incorporates 37 forms, seldomly used as it is - after all - a sword style).

    Gyi has been known to incorporate his ability into his martial arts, at times stripping down to his underwear and inviting numerous insects to hover about the full of his body through his power. In addition to the natural deterrent these insects pose to close-quarters combatants, Gyi is able to masterfully utilize his power upon landing a strike, compelling the insects to further harangle the foe. Depending on the insect and certain venoms they may carry, this can have lethal results (for that reason, this is seldom employed by Gyi, particularly as usage of specimen such as the Vespa mandarinia - Asian giant hornet - could be considered quite inhumane by UN standards due to their potential for great damage).



  • Arms/Armaments
    ▸Standard small-arms.
    ▸Concealable combat knives and retractable baton.

    Other Possessions
    ▸Typically provided with glass receptacles containing various insects, microcosms of ecosystems in durable jars. Has his own collection of Asian giant hornets from the northerly parts of Myanmar, although they are seldom used, as Gyi believes that they would be perceived as 'inhumane' in the line of combat.
    ▸Infiltration kit: rebreather, disguise kit, various secure electronics and communicators, chloroform, telescope, etc. (as mission dictates).
    ▸Rubber balls and marbles with which to use in conjunction with his ability.

    Miscellaneous Character Information
    ▸Has a penchant for wandering about scantily clad, if not full on naked, during down-time.
    ▸That his modus operandi as-pertaining to his ability mostly involves insects is something of a commentary towards himself and his background. Burmese mythology gives much prominence to great animals and chimeric conglomerations of their ilk - the insect as a symbol refers to his own person, and his home nation, weaker entities that strive for achievements of similar proportion to their more formidable counterparts.
    ▸A skillful chef, particularly adept at handling salads and fish.
    ▸Outside of operations, has an unbearably leisurely slow walking pace.


 
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