Name: Bryne Naosuke
Age: 26
Height: 6'2"
Gender/Sex: Male
Occupation: Dashing Delivery, specifically deals with the crazies that would otherwise be blacklisted from the service.
Abilities: Teleportation, minor super-strength, minor super-reflexes, massive balls.
Appearance:
Secret Identiy: Known
Name: James Porter
Alias: Summoner
Class: None...yet?
Function: Jack of All Trades
Type: Coordinator, Commander
Ability Classification: Magic User. Snap, Ritual. Very high resilience
Sex: Male
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Family Members: Amy Porter (Mother), Andrew Porter (father), Seamus O'Meara (Landlord, adopta-dad)
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual
Significant Others: None
Hideout Location: None
Cooperation: Frequent
Team Size/ Composition: At any given time, he'll cooperate with Pydir, Sato, Hignar, Thyris, or Sophia
Cooperativeness Scale: "Could we just FOCUS!?"
Common Gear: A satchel of holding, his phone, the grimoires
Civilian and Costumed Appearance:
Powers, in-depth:
Above-average mana, for a human
Invocation: James can invoke the entities within his grimoires for combat and aid, though a few of them are restricted to powered down forms. The summoning process is nigh instant, thanks to constant use and training.
True Invocation: James can invoke the true form of some of his grimoires, beasts of power who require a ritual to be freed. This requires a casting ritual, even with all his experience.
Summoning: James can perform moderate to simple summons even without his grimoires, but they're nowhere near as powerful as his companions.
Broken Constitution Stat: James has managed to survive swords, being beaten, being contorted into painful shapes, being burnt, being frozen, and a multi-story fall. That isn't to say he can't feel pain. It still hurts...a LOT.
Intelligence: James is remarkably smart, able to do intense mathematic equations at a simple glance, and a skilled tactician. If only his team would listen...
Grimoire Creation: James can bind even the most powerful creature or being to a book and create a grimoire. The process is extremely simple, and quite quick. Unfortunately, he can only do it three times...ever (or at least until he gets isekai'd again).
Unbinding Grimoires: James can unbind grimoires, either freeing one's he's made, or breaking the prison cells on the ones he already owns. However, it is far easier to tangle a net than to untangle it.
Grimoires: While his team is imprisoned, they cannot leave of their own free will, and are stuck to a certain range of their 'master'. The grimoires are irrevocably bound to him, and would return to his person shortly should they be stolen. Even if the invocation 'dies' outside of their book, they are simply returned back, though they must take time to recuperate.
Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power: 15/100
Visibility: 0/100 (if he's not casting, of course)
Success: 95/100 (going by past)
Out of Combat Reputation: 80/100 (He's just a naturally good guy)
Ranking: N/A
Political Abrasiveness: 75/100
Lethality: 100/100 (He's never killed someone, personally)
Property Damage: 100/100 (He's never done any real damage, personally)
Rescue: 85/100 (going by past history)
Tenure: 2 (if we count LAST time)
Backstory
James Porter is the only son and child of Amy and Andrew Porter. His mother was an overworked nurse who still tried her best to be there for him, whereas his father was a business mogul with a great deal of success and wealth to live with. James never had to ask for anything in life...except for his fathers attention. No matter what he tried or did, his father was too busy with work to even take notice of the young boy. The only times he truly took notice, is when James showed success in his studies or his work, and the young man fed off it, as unhealthy as it may have been. As strange as it may seem, James started to attend a business college. One unfortunate day, while he was catching the Broadway Local from Manhattan to Queens, some idiot managed to shove him in front of the oncoming subway. What resulted was a maddening (And admittedly, a bit fun) experience as he was isekai'd into a fantasy world as a summoner. What followed was two years of him trying to overthrow the...demon...overlord...world ender..thing? Along the way he collected Grimoires (and in one instance, made one), of whom became quite close to him, and vice versa.
After defeating the world-ending threat with his companions and a party, he was sent home as he had been promised. Unexpectedly, his 'girls' had come with...resulting in five roommates he wasn't prepared for. Fastforward two years later, and James was back to college, and the girls had more or less come to accept how the 'real world' worked. Unfortunately, his life is a tragedy (or a comedy, depends who you ask), as he and his group were hit by...the Broadway Local from Manhattan to Queens, when a fight broke out in the subway tunnel and they all had been shoved in by accident. And like clockwork, he got isekia'd once again...and all of his girls are back in their prison books. God...Dammit.
played by Cam E. Leon
Secret Identity: Publicly Known
Name: Pydir
Alias: Pydir
Class: Summon?
Function: Fighter
Type: CQC, Shield, and Run n Gun
Ability Classification: Monstrous, Strength 6 (7) and Invulnerability 7 (8), Size 1 (3)
Sex: Female
Gender: Female
Age: 8k~
Family Members: James
Sexual Preference: James, of course!
Significant Others: James (not really)
Hideout: I live in a book!
Hideout Location: James Satchel
Cooperation: Frequent
Cooperativeness Scale: "Whatever James says!"
Civilian Appearance:
Invocation Appearance:
True Invocation Appearance:
Summary: Pydir is dangerous in any situation. Her body is adorned with scales from head to toe and constantly grows spikes that at their full growth are harder than steel. Even when broken off they shall regrow, yet the more you break off the longer they take to regrow. She can also launch them in all directions like a frag projectile. Her spikes take a total of five minutes to regrow after destruction or being fired. Let it be known even in this restricted form she is still an elder dragon. She shall not hesitate to return to primordial instincts and rampage like a beast. Her masters orders are one of the only things keeping her in control during these rampages.
Summoning drawback: As long as she is summoned, james suffers from minor irritation and pain. Nothing overwhelming, but occasional jolts of pain like a spike hit him.
Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power 75 (85)/100
Visibility: 100/100
Success: 95/100
Out of Combat Reputation: N/A, imprisoned to a grimoire
Ranking: Summon!
Political Abrasiveness: 85/100
Property Damage: 25/100
Lethality: 30/100
Rescue: 85/100
Tenure: 100/100
James Notes
Pydir, like all nergigante, was extremely destructive, powerful, and dangerous. Hearing that Pydir had destroyed a town was commonplace, and usually talked about. Like all of her kind, she fed on other elder dragons, actually being partly responsible in a population drop in them at one point. Her history is not nearly as storied and epic as other elder dragons, simple as it were. Slayers were her downfall, not dedicated mages or priests. A group of warriors who sought to end her destruction bound her to a tome of dragons and their kin, knowing a fight against a full-grown nergigante of her age would not only end in their death but the destruction of a large swath of land.
Pydir has been a loyal companion through my travels, even if her insistence that she clings to me and hug me has resulted in multiple flesh wounds, cuts, and lacerations. She claims to have been a much more destructive and cruel individual at one point, but such a long time of isolation and nothingness has made her quite loving and eager for any and all attention.
played by Cam E. Leon
Secret Identity: Publicly known
Name: Sophia
Alias: Sophia
Class: Summoned Doll
Function: Jack of All Trades
Type: Other
Ability Classification: Anomalous (eldritch/scp)
Sex: Female?
Gender: Female?
Age: ???
Family Members: James
Sexual Preference: N̷͑̄o̷̅͋t̸̉̇h̷̊̐i̴͋͝n̷̄͠g̸͋̍
Significant others: N/A
Hideout: A book
Hideout Location: James Satchel
Cooperation: Frequent
Cooperativeness Scale:"It does not matter anyway. But if master asks for it"
Civilian Appearance:
Costumed Appearance:
Summary: Sophia is an eldritch diety. However, she has confined herself to a physical body. She is able to minutely bend reality for short periods of time. Unlike others, she is even able to leave her book without permission and is able to summon tentacle-like objects to attack and grab objects, as well as celestial like energy attacks. Her attacks are heat and light based.
Summoning drawback: Summong sophia puts a strain on james psyche, resulting in minor headaches.
Raw Power: 80/100
Visibility: 40/100
Success: 95/100
Out of Combat Reputation: N/A
Ranking: Summon
Political Abrasiveness: N/A
Lethality: 90/100
Rescue: 85/100
Tenure: 100/100
James Notes
From Sophia's own words she is an entity that exists outside of time. She has forever existed and will forever exist. Upon her first conscious though she simply felt the undying urge to serve one worthy of being called master. To which she once found long ago.... but that master consumed himself in the void and was reduced to nothing floating within the veil beyond reality, a feast for others stronger than him. In her time serving her first master, she trapped herself willingly into a corporeal form to better serve her master. And fell asleep. Until she awoke to a binding spell. Desiring a new master still having the urge to serve she willingly let herself be bound. And now happily serves me..... She may be a bit unnerving and concerning for many, but I find her comforting to have around in some odd fashion.
played by Cam E. Leon
Secret Identity: Publicly Known
Name: Thyris
Alias: Thyris
Class: Summon
Function: Healer and Rescue
Type: Healer, magical ranged, buffer/debuffer
Ability Classification: Strength 2 (5), Invulnerability 2 (5), Kaiju, size 1 (6), Water Manipulation, Aquatic Creature command/communication
Sex: Female
Gender: Female
Age: 12k
Family members: James
Sexual Preference: Homosexual
Significant Others: Sato
Hideout: A book
Hideout Location: James Satchel
Cooperation: Frequent
Cooperativeness Scale: "I mean, if you ask nicely, sure."
Civilian Appearance:
Invocation Appearance:
True Invocation:
Summary: Thyris controls the divine-like power of water. Able to create it from the moisture in the atmosphere and fire it like steel cutting water jets. She can use water as a medium for many types of her magic be it healing, buffing or destruction. Thyris is exponentially more powerful on coasts and in the ocean proper, capable of creating tidal waves, whirlpools, and sea storms. Her abilities are classified as 'water magic'. Thyris is able to understand any aquatic creature, but can only command fish and mollusks. The rest she must request their aid.
Summoning drawback: Summoning thyris results in james being soaked in water. So long as she's summoned, no matter what he does, he cannot get dry.
Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power: 40 (74)/100
Visibility: 58 (100)/100
Success: 95/100
Out of Combat Reputation: N/A
Ranking: Summon
Political Abrasiveness: 40/100
Property Damage: 80/100
Lethality: 80/100
Rescue: 85/100
Tenure: 100/100
James Notes
Thyris is a leviathan, one of the twelve creatures created by the gods to protect the oceans. Revered by many as monsters or even deities themselves, they simply do their job as they were assigned. I was aboard a passenger ship when we unwittingly entered her territory. When she surfaced in order to 'shoo us away' (I swore she planned to kill us), I bound her to a grimoire. It was a terrible misunderstanding, but she was calm enough about it. As it would turn out, she had started to grown tired of doing the duties of the ocean goddess, who had grown increasingly lazy. She has been a steadfast ally...and after I returned him, started dating Sato. Good for them?
Secret Identity: Publically Known
Name: Sato
Alias: Sato
Class: Summon
Function: Fighter, Assassin, Stealth
Type: Swordsman, Other
Ability Classification: Divine Wind and Storm magic (snap), Major wind and storm manipulation (snap), (minor) goddess, speed 8, flyer (natural and magical)
Sex: Female
Gender: Female
Age: 10k
Family Members: James
Sexual Preference: Bisexual
Significant others: Thyris
Hideout: A book
Hideout location: In james satchel
Cooperation: Frequent
Cooperativeness scale: "D-dammit, fine! I'll help...if only because it's sad seeing you struggle this badly!"
Common gear: Her katana,Suraisu-fū. Her mask, which hides her blinded eyes.
Civilian Appearance:
Invocation:
Power Summary:
Blinded eyes: Sato can no longer use her natural eye-sight, unfairly ripped from her so long ago. She see's the world by feeling the shifts in the air, the pressure in it, and the magic that surrounds her. Her eyes are a pale foggy white, the pupil and iris no longer even present, perhaps hauntingly beautiful.
Master swordswoman: Sato was an eager guardian to her small village, and had no qualms being invoked on the battlefield to help them in their times of need. Thousands of years of training and skill craft, the lone goddess could drive even the most massive army to rout in her prime.
Wind and Storm manipulation: Sato can conjure the wind and air to her demand, turning calm days into howling gales. She can invoke mighty storms, from thunderstorms to hurricanes to tornados. However, the mightier the storm, the greater drain it is on James.
Flight: Sato is capable of using her wings to fly into the air, or simply coxing the winds to send her flying.
Speed: So long as there is air to use, sato can move at an unmatched speed. Unfortunately, given current circumstances, she can't go very far from James.
Summoning drawback: While there is no apparent drawback to summoning Sato, she is the most taxing to even summon.
Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power: 75/100
Visibility: 85/100 (when using her magic)
Success: 95/100
Out of combat reputation: N/A
Ranking: Summon
Political Abrasiveness: 45/100
Property Damage: 25-75/100
Lethality: 40/100
Rescue: 85/100
Tenure: 100/100
James Notes
Sato's story is a tragic one, and one that still haunts her. She was the goddess of a small village, immigrants from eastern lands that settled on the home continent of where I had been revived. Sato is the goddess that they prayed too before they left their homeland, and she came with them to keep them safe. To her, these people weren't just devotee's, they were her family. She protected her town from infighting, raiders, and war. When the people needed warriors, she taught the men the way of the blade. When the months became dry, she called upon storm and wind to feed the soil and crops. When the days were hot, she coaxed the winds into a gentle breeze to cool her village. Truly, no harm would come to them while she had a say in it. Sato's gaze was said to be one of power and commanded respect. With a simple glance, she could make a man kneel, or send mighty hurricanes forth.
Unfortunately, harm would come. Twelve incredibly powerful mages snuck their way into her shrine in order to steal precious relics. Sato, as one would expect, took great offense to this and attempted to stop them. However, they were prepared, and struck her of her sight, a hex that even I cannot remedy, nor could any other. Shortly after this, they bound the goddess to a book, though it killed eleven of the mages to do so. The survivor desecrated her shrine by stealing the relics, and set the town to fire in his escape. Without their goddess, the town fell to chaos, and the barbarians that came after to clean up the stragglers. We managed to return to the site of her home...only to find naught but ash, and corpses that time forgot. I believe it still haunts her, though Thyris has helped remedy some of her pain.
Secret Identity: Publically Known
Name: Hignar
Alias: Hignar, General, slayer of men, destroyer of civilization
Class: Summon
Function: Fighter
Type: CQC
Ability Classification: Power and Terror projection, Major fire manipulation (snap), fallen primordial spirit, Strength 6 (7), invulnerability 4 (6), size 1 (3)
Sex: Female
Gender: Female
Age: 25k
Family Members: N/A
Sexual Preference: James
Significant others: James (Not really)
Hideout: A book
Hideout location: James Satchel
Cooperation: Frequent
Cooperativeness Scale: Anything for james! So long as he remembers who his true soulmate is...
Common Gear: her armor, a flaming whip, a magma axe
Civilian Appearance:
Invocation:
True invocation:
Power summary:
Power and terror projection: Hignar's sheer presence exerts pressure and fear into her surroundings, making even strong wills cow (especially in her true form), and sending mighty warriors to flee. The field extends to 30 feet in her base form, and is difficult to overcome, though not impossible. In her true form, the field extends to sixty feet, and is almost overwhelming. These field powers increase the closer you get to the epicenter. (feel free to discuss with player on how the terror/power exertion affects your character)
Fire manipulation: Hignar has high control of flame and magma, able to project it or bend it to her whim. I've made special notes to not visit volcano's with her.
Fallen primordial spirit: Hignar is a fallen spirit from before the dawn of her world, part of the group that was meant to help shape the world into being. Shortly after doing so, darkness tempted her and her kin, and she fell. Hignar was the leader of her kin, and acted as a general in their campaign of death.
Combatant: Hignar has single handily been responsible for the death of millions in her own world, a warrior that would not fall. No blade could cow her, no arrow could pierce her hide, and no army could stand against her.
Scent: Hignar's presence reeks of sulfur and brimstone, ash and molten rock.
Summoning drawback: Summoning hignar makes james feel uncomfortably hot, like he's too near a campfire. Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power: 95/100
Visibility: 100/100
Success: 95/100
Out of combat reputation: N/A
Ranking: Summon
Property Damage: 5/100
Rescue: 85/100
Lethality: 10/100
Tenure: 100/100
James Notes
Hignar was not always a beast of death, destruction, flame, and slaughter. One upon a time, she was a peaceful primordial spirit, who aided in the forming of the world. Unfortuantely, shortly after its creation, darkness tempted her and some of her kin, and they fell. Becoming known as 'Balrogs', Hignar made herself known as the undisputed leader of her fallen kin, even if it meant making examples and beating them into submission. Through all of my travels, every library had a section of the library dedicated to 'the darkest millenium', in which Hignar and her kind had harassed the races in their war....war? It was a massacre, the numbers varying through each telling, but they were well over tens of millions. Hignar herself is responsible for millions of lives lost and hundreds of armies crushed. She took a twisted pleasure in it, never wiping out cities or nations. No, she let them rebuild, repopulate, let them try to fight again...only to crush them beneath her foot once again. It's like she constantly wanted them to never stop supplying her with lives to take.
Eventually though, the races managed to band together enough. Her kin, one by one, was either killed, or worse. Hignar was the last to go, the proudest and most powerful of her kin, nothing stopped her. Until a band of thirty, priests and mages and clerics, set off to face her. The mightiest the nations could offer to face her, the combat took place for many days and nights. And on the dying breaths of those men and women, was Hignar bound to her grimoire, bringing an end to the bloodiest millennium to ever scar the face of that world. Fortuantely or...unfortunately? She's obsessed with me, and fancies me as her 'one true love'...if it keeps her from slaughtering again, I'll deal with it.
Personal Information File Secret Identity: Unknown Name: Chutes Alias(es): Vice Class: N/a Function: Any Type: Any Ability Classification: Reality manipulation Sex: Female Gender: Male Age: ? Family Member(s): ? Sexual Preference: Men Significant Other(s): Unfortunately no Hideout: Yes Hideout Location: Grimoire(James’s Satchel) Cooperation: Solo Team Size/Composition: James Cooperativeness Scale: Not at all cooperative Common Gear: None
Grimoire:
Unbound:
Borne of a bad decision eons ago, Chutes had thought the little grimoire so lost to time it wouldn’t be found again. It seemed he was wrong, and that he would have to beat Nyarlathotep’s head in with a chessboard. The part of him was called Vice. While no other could beat him in head to head combat or wits... he was... easily distracted and sometimes fell prey to underhanded tactics. Vice was once such mistake. Now, Vice was in the hands of a little summoner. He had half a mind to burn it away in an almighty inferno and just deal with the pain for a month or so as he recovered from the loss of that piece of himself... but... damn it all, Nyarlathotep... this was too interesting.
Behavior and Ranking Raw Power ~ ???/100 Visibility ~ 020/100 Success ~ 099/100 Out of Combat Reputation ~ 020/100 Ranking ~ 000/100 Political Abrasiveness ~ 050/100 Property Damage ~ 080/100 Lethality ~ 060/100 Rescue ~ 092/100 Tenure ~ 100/100
Secret Identity: Secret
Name: Mary Moon
Alias: Velocity
Class: B
Function:Stealth, Fighter, Recovery/Rescue
Type: Martial Artist, Distraction
Ability Classification: Strength 2/10, Speed 10/10, mild regenerative ability
Sex: Female
Gender: Female
Age: 19
Family Members: Melissa Moon (mother), Eric Moon (Father), Cedric Moon (Brother, 20) Sophia Moon (Sister,16)
Sexual Preference: Homosexual Demisexual
Significant others: N/A
Hideout: Does a college dorm count?
Hideout Location: UCLA (University of California Los Angelas)
Cooperation: Solo
Team Size: N/A
Cooperativeness scale: "You guys just slow me down! Can't you at least try to keep up?"
Common gear: Just her suit and helmet, her phone, and occasionally trail mix. The helmet has been modified to hook up to her spotify so she can listen to music! Something about 'I can't drive 55' while she's running at top speed amuses her. Zipties.
Civilian Appearance:
Costumed Appearance:
Powers description
Speed: Mary's body is capable of moving at intense speeds, down to the molecular level. She is able to move at FTL speeds, though she's never really pushed herself to that limit. Her body has adjusted to being able to endure these speeds and limits it's natural fatigue toxin production, though she can still tire over an extended time. Like all speedsters, she can register time differently and in a slower fashion than the rest of the world, and make sense of it.
Aura: Mary's body creates a compensation field during her running and movement, allowing her to move at top speeds without igniting the atmosphere or creating a sonic boom that levels a city block. This, however, does not prevent gusts of wind or the occasional flipped small vehicle if she moves too close. Her body is not negatively affected by her speed, nor is her attire. If she were to carry anyone, they would be enveloped in the compensation field. She has used this feature numerous times, in examples such as clearing burning buildings. This aura also protects mary when she's delivering high speed blows, allowing her to fight at full capacity without worry about shattering her body to dust. This also allows her to blow through walls when coupled with her strength.
Enhanced mental prowess: Mary's body doesn't bottleneck information intake like a natural human, allowing her to register, think, and function at a matched capacity to her speed.
Mild regenerative factor: Mary's body heals at a higher rate. Her body can easily be shot, stabbed, or shattered, though it will heal faster than a normal human would. If a person would be laid up for being stabbed for a month or two, she'd take a half or a third of that time. She has average pain tolerance. Otherwise 'career-ending' injuries can be healed but at a very long time rate.
Natural Abilities:
Smart as shit: Mary attends a prestigious school because she earned it. Highly skilled in biology studies and mathematics.
Advanced hand to hand combatant: More of a 'street fighter' method than anything, she follows no real combat philosophy than her own. Without her speed, she could quickly be overwhelmed by a more powerful combatant or someone who has had far more training.
Acrobatic: Mary is quite acrobatic, even without her abilities. But coupled with them, she'd make an Olympic gymnast blush in shame.
Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power: 65/100
Visibility: 100/100...technically?
Success: 65/100
Out of combat reputation: 55/100 (She quips too much)
Ranking: 60/100
Political Abrasiveness: 85/100
Property damage: 75/100
Lethality: 95/100
Rescue: 98/100 (Easy to be there, when you can ALWAYS be there)
Tenure: 2/100
Mary's family can be traced back to a line of Irish immigrants all the way back to the twenties, and they've been pure-blooded Irish since. Mary's father is a well-known scientist, responsible for gear and production of weaponry for heroes, as well as specialized suits and attire. Her mother is a humanitarian, always seeking to better human life. Both of them were speedsters but only registered as a five or six at best on the scale. Her siblings rate a little higher than them, at seven or eight, but Mary exceeds all expectations. It was a lot of trial and error to see how fast she could go. Run from one side of the city and back. Run from one county and back. Eventually, she figured she could go as fast as she was willing to aim to go...this theory proven when she wanted to go to Ireland, and the family didn't want to spring for the tickets. So, as any dumbass teenager would when they have speedster powers, she ran across the Atlantic all the way back to the emerald isles...that wasn't a good phone call to get from her parents. Grounded for what felt like an eternity...she still has the tee-shirt though!
Mary didn't always want to be a hero, she wanted to be a biologist, and she still does. A massive inspiration to her being Anne Beaufort, so young and yet already making groundbreaking studies! Her father is staunchly against his children being heroes, in fact. In his line of work, he's seen exactly what can happen to a hero, and how they may have to be scraped off the sidewalk. It's trial and error for him. This suit didn't work, this gear didn't work, upgrade upgrade upgrade. However, around the age of 18, it was a do or die situation when a massive hotel caught fire, and there weren't enough heroes to go around. Throwing caution to the wind, Mary got involved, emptying out the building in quick order...and just in time, as it collapsed in on itself shortly after. Deciding she could do a lot of good, she decided to become a hero but still tries to focus on her studies. Unfortunately, as said, her father would never permit it (Much like he'd never be okay if he found out she liked girls over guys) so she had to be...creative. She 'borrowed' a suit and helmet her father was designing from his lab, and made some minor alterations to the best of her knowledge so that it couldn't be pinned as the exact suit she'd stolen...such as adding Bluetooth to the helmet. The last thing she needed was a phone call from her father ranting in her ear about how she stole the suit, became a hero, and wound up on television. Now she has to juggle college, hero'ing, and hiding her secret from everyone...including her family. Don't even get her started on hiding it from her roommate, the excuses she'd had to come up with are either outrageous or embarrassing. At least the pay is decent enough, considering she managed to soar through the ranks so far. But...probably hold off on going any higher, college is already kicking her ass harder than any villain could. Mary is from the D.C area, however, she's on a full-ride scholarship to her college. Now she just has to keep her family thinking that's ALL she's doing.
Secret Identity: Unknown
Name: Eden Tanner
Alias(es): Bloodhound
Employer: Currently freelance but working to become a Powered Policeman
Class: C Class
Function: Stealth; Tracking
Type: Ranged (Sniper)
Ability Classification: Human-based
Abilities:
Enhanced Senses. Prone to overload
Sense Focusing. Vulnerable because of the blocked off senses
Marksmanship skill. It is not a superpower, simply training; but it’s a strong skill
Sex: Female
Gender: Female
Age: 21
Family Member(s):
Judah Tanner (Father), Agnes Tanner (Mother), Reginald Tanner, II (Brother)
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual
Significant Other(s): None
Hideout: Yes
Hideout Location: The rooftop of her apartment complex
Team Size/Composition: N/A but she would be okay with a small group, perhaps 2-5.
Cooperativeness Scale: Knows she could do more with company but dislikes the distraction, can be persuaded, especially if it is beneficial for her
Civilian Appearance:
Most often wears plain clothing. Typically long sleeved and slightly loose shirts and pants. Always wears an olive green beanie. Has fingerless gloves and chapstick and earplugs on her person at all times. Has a piercing on her right eyebrow. She has vitiligo, mostly on her arms and torso but also a patch on her neck.
Costumed Appearance:
Depending on time of day she usually wears some form of camouflage fitting to her needs. She has quite an array of suitable camouflage outfits or accessories. Typically she carries out her work in the evening and night times so she has a dark outfit with light armor she usually wears. It also assists in cushioning when lying down for prone shots.
Common Gear:
M14 Sniper Rifle with silencer
Glock 17
Camouflage clothing [often in the form that will blend in with the cityscape ie. dark and non-reflective]
Ammunition
Backpack and carrying case for rifle
Hip holster for the sidearm
Infrared and night vision scope accessories
Raw Power: [40]/100 Mostly because of her skill with shooting and ability to track and such.
Visibility: [15]/100
Success: [70]/100
Out of Combat Reputation: Not known publicly, but probably a [65]/100 cause she’s kinda a loner
Ranking: [60]/100
Political Abrasiveness: [90]/100
Property Damage: [99]/100
Lethality: [75]/100 She’s careful of bystanders but if you’re in her sights she generally shoots to kill. She doesn’t play with her targets.
Rescue: [10]/100 Her skill set isn’t exactly useful for rescue missions but she did assist once. Though search and rescue might be up her alley.
Tenure: [4]/100 Started vigilantism at age 18.
Eden Tanner was born with her abilities. As a child her constant discomfort was brushed off though she now understands that she is easily overloaded by all the sensory input. Eventually she began to understand what her heightened senses were when she began to meditate, realizing she could focus her senses. When she became old enough Eden’s father began to teach her marksmanship. Around the age of ten she started to shoot, and from then on sought to excel and be just like her father.
As a teenager, Eden took all of her training, both of her natural abilities and her practiced skills and sought out an outlet, after becoming frustrated with the limitations legal enforcement can take. She recognizes the need for law enforcement and personally wants to become one of the powered police forces, however she is also of the mindset that the freedom vigilantism gives can accomplish just as much, and quicker. She hopes now that she is out of high school, and has taken two years at a community college to get a bit of an edge that she can enroll to become a powered police officer. If so, she intends to keep up with her vigilante persona as well, a little too attached to the freedom and adrenaline.
Secret Identity : "Publicly Known" (The information is free to be found, but takes time and energy to find) Name : Cinna Arsilas Arkenian Alias(es) : The Assassin, Spellblade, "ShahGuzar" (The Prince of Rust) Threat Level : 3 Function : Assassin/Stealth Type : Swordsman (Shortsword), General Weapons Expert (Bladed weapons) Ability Classification :
Cinna's soul is a mass of pure primordial chaos, pulsating with death and temporal energy. It is extremely hard to destroy, and can absorb most attacks directed at it. It is separated from his body by a very powerful ward directly built-in inside of it. Removing, destroying, shutting down or otherwise neutralizing the ward entirely would cause the soul to reattach itself to the body, creating a 20-meters wide sphere of pure destruction around Cinna. The ward is two-layered. The first level keeps the soul away from the body, while the second purifies the energy that seeps through the first ward, separating it into its core constituants of Death and Time. There exists a third layer, that activates only when Cinna dies, overriding the two others to regenerate Cinna's body by fueling it with energy; once the body is regenerated, the soul is linked to the body again, and Cinna is revived. The process usually takes time, up to twelve hours, but can be negated by killing Cinna with Chaos Iron or powerful enough divine weaponry. The third ward also activates on a minor scale when Cinna sleeps or is unconscious, and works only half as quickly.
Refined Energy Spellblade - This skill allows Cinna to briefly open the primary level of his soul ward in a specific part of his body to tap into either Death or Time to create a blade of energy (the origin of his Spellblade nickname) that can either degrade things (Death) or freeze them in time for a while (Time). This ability can be used together with Blood Rune armaments.
Full-contact Refined Energy - With the same fundamental working as Refined Energy, this skill brings down the primary protection on the entire body while keeping up the purification ward, allowing Cinna to become the Spellblade instead of simply wielding it. As long as the primary protection is down, Cinna is coated in an atom-thin layer of Death or Time energy, allowing him to be a living weapon to higher levels than usual.
Pure Chaos Spellblade - This skill works the same as Refined Energy, except that the weapon is forged directly with Chaos energy instead of either Death or Time. It is exponentially stronger than either, but also much more exhausting to create and maintain.
Due to his special soul, entropy's and time's effects on Cinna are absorbed and transformed into energy for him to use. As such, he is effectively ageless as long as time passes, as well as immune to death and time effects.
By saying or focusing his thoughts on the command word (Witness), Cinna can enter a mode of vision that he calls Reaper Sight, lasting around 5 minutes per use. While in Reaper Sight, he can see two things. The first is the people in his sight's "Lines of Death", red-ish streaks that note the points on the target where a wound would be fatal no matter what. Anyone's who's not perfectly invulnerable has at least one. The second thing is the lifespan of the people he sees, or how much of it would remain if he does not act.
By saying or focusing his thoughts on the command word (Harvest), Cinna can, up to twice a day, absorb the extra lifespan (Time energy) of a person he killed, and add it to his own energy. If the victim was a powered individual, he can, for 24 hours after Harvesting, use one of the victim's abilities, chosen at random.
Cinna has yet to discover his third Aspect.
As per his species' norm, Cinna has physical abilities beyond the human norm. At normal level, he has Super Speed, Super Strength and Invulnerability 4, though he can control those levels to some extent, and can temporarily double any of them by either halving both others or nullifying one. This is a purely physical ability.
Similar to a dragon's breath, Cinna can, by draining his stamina, spew out a powerful stream of powdered rust or a single spike of coalesced rust. It dissolves after one minute, or if it makes contact with a liquid. In addition, due to his biology, his sweat is basically made entirely of liquid rust, and his blood is quasi-entirely oxydated from birth. As such, he has very little need for breathing, as one inspiration can sustain him for three to four hours.
Blood Runes - By drawing Blood Runes, Cinna can conjure a weapon from a specific rune. There are eight Runes. By drawing the entire Rune circle, he can conjure a suit of armor made of solidified rust-blood that lasts five minutes. Blood Rune armaments are twice as solid as steel and inherently anti-magical, while also coming with innate mastery, but are extremely draining on Cinna's stamina to conjure and maintain.
Due to the unique nature of his soul, Cinna's means of expression are equally unique. He cannot speak through his mouth, as he has no vocal chords and very little air circulation, but he can form the words. When he addresses someone, they hear his voice in their minds, and his voice is extremely deep, sounding as Death itself, both perfectly steady and absolutely indifferent, in sharp contrast to his feminine, statue-like appearance. As such, if his face is not visible, it is impossible to have a grasp of his emotions as his voice never wavers. He does not need to actually form the words with his mouth to express them in thought, but it is harder for him to express more complex thoughts in an understandable manner without shaping them first. Only in his death throes is he able to speak normally and with a voice fitting his appearance.
Species : Alter-Ego (Alternate timeline transhuman) Sex : Male Gender : Male Age : Born in year 30307, was sent to the past at 100 years old, arrived in 1863 and lived since. Biological age : 295 years old. Chronological age : -30212 years old. Family Member(s) : Unknown, all deceased Sexual Preference : Homosexual Significant Other(s) : - Hideout : Yes Hideout Location : Unspecified CIA facility Cooperation : Solo Team Size/Composition : - Cooperativeness Scale : "I work alone" Employer : CIA Common Gear : Anti-radiation shawl, Half-covering tungsten body armor, Dustcutter and the Chaosblade (Twin shortswords that can cut any non-alive material. They cannot cut living things, instead damaging the soul inside. Aluminum blocks those properties, and they only act as normal weapons against it. They are both deeply attuned to Cinna and trying to wield either of them while not being Cinna will cause intense necrosis and random flesh alteration to occur until the weapon is let go of. They are made of an unknown material that is extremely hard to destroy.)
Civilian Appearance :
Costumed Appearance :
Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power ~ 50/100 Visibility ~ 20/100 Success ~ 95/100 Out of Combat Reputation ~ 15-85/100 (Varies wildly between the few 4channers who know his existence) Ranking ~ N/A/100 Political Abrasiveness ~ 15/100 Property Damage ~ 95/100 Lethality ~ 5/100 Rescue ~ 5/100 Tenure ~ 194 years
Backstory
There is one world, one story that did not end well for mankind. One world that did not have the chance of seeing powered individuals emerge throughout history. A world that found itself helpless when the invaders came. One day, long lost in the dispersed sands of this world's history, they arrived. Blotting out the sun like locusts, high in the sky, a swarm of machines that descended upon this Earth. Machines that called themselves G.O.D.S. and A.N.G.E.L.S., mechanical abominations that had come only to subjugate and destroy. And so mankind fought those presumptuous gods tooth and nail in a devastating conflict that ravaged most of the surface.
Oh, this version of mankind was skilled at warfare, but so were the invaders. And for each of their ships destroyed, a city went up in smoke. But little by little, they were pushed back. One spent life at a time... After maybe twenty thousand years of conflict, Earth's surface was nothing but charred ruins; but mankind did not give up. In the underground, relatively spared by the war, scientists had started to reverse-engineer A.N.G.E.L. technology, and at first crafted only weapons to turn the tide against the G.O.D.S. But then they started to create miracles and wonders, and humanity progressed beyond its limits, with technology able to access some of the most primordial forces of its universe - the original Chaos.
And the surface was, after a long series of bloody battles, finally reclaimed and rebuilt. The invaders were driven away from Earth, to the barren Mars. Everyone thought it would then be over, that the invasion had been repelled. But the G.O.D.S. were spiteful foes, and in a last act of defiance, drained all of their energy into an ultimate gravitational pulse that churned Earth inside out, ravaging what was left of civilisation on the surface and what had thrived underneath, at the cost of their own sentience for millennia to come. The A.N.G.E.L.S. had gone to sleep, but Earth was devastated. Volcanoes, earthquakes, spikes of lava surged about anywhere at anytime, veins of liquid metal coursed through ruins that once were cities before solidifying, Earth's magnetic field was gone, exposing the surface to the Sun's deadly radiations. This day has been given one name only. The day of divine wrath.
Dies Irae
For ten thousand years, in the bowels of the death world that was once lush and green, humanity endured and grew back. During the first five thousand years, a makeshift society emerged anew, clans and tribes warring on the surface and below for the precious resources such as water and wood, and for the relics of the ancients - all of the wonders of science that had been created from A.N.G.E.L. technology. One of those wonders was only known as Chaos, and its purpose remained unknown. And so humanity grew back, reclaiming its territory over five thousand years. Humans became a stronger breed in those times. Resistance to radiation was a common trait, although immunity could only be achieved by wearing Relics with that purpose, strength, speed and resilience surpassed all levels known before the Dies Irae, and some special abilities began to emerge.
Five thousand years after the Dies Irae, the G.O.D.S. awoke anew. Legends spoke of those beings, deities of iron and steel that had come to ravage and plunder, and that had been fought to the last. But they did not attack en masse. Instead, they sent small raids, time after time, pillaging small portions of civilization and returning to Mars. And so humanity learned again the threat of the invaders from beyond the world. One of the clans on the surface was known as the Rustlings, and they had one prophecy - in truth an audio record of one of the Wonder Project scientists - "If ever we manage to create and give birth to a primordial soul, I fear that the damn things will come howling at our door. They will all be destroyed in the wake of its wielder's existence, of that there is no doubt, but when such a person will be born, mankind will cease to exist after maybe a hundred years."
And four thousand and nine hundred years after the Reawakening, a child was born among the Rustlings, a child with a soul of black and infinity. A child that was called Cinna Arsilas Arkenian.
The Rustlings were one minor power at that time, nomads living in makeshift armored sleigh-trains running around in the desert of rust that once had been the Middle-East. Hills of red dust, spreading from one horizon to another, a yellow sun spreading deadly light over the shifting lines, and the black trains scoured this immensity, ceaselessly moving from one safe oasis to another. When news spread among the Clan of the birth of the prophesied child, order was given for the parents to be executed, and the child to be abandoned near a safe area. If he was really the one to bring the end, then he would survive, but if he was not, then mankind would earn another hundred years of survival.
Of course, Cinna survived, earning his right to live through many a staggering endeavour. Beasts that fed on humans lurked in the irradiated metallic sands of the desert, the weather was supremely dangerous and unpredictable, and even humans to other humans were like wolves to rabbits. Through violence, ruse and diplomacy of all kinds - for even in a blasted wasteland, man heeds the call of flesh - Cinna earned every year of his life till he got to thirty. Having found some ancient armaments in a cache, he sought out the Rustlings, and revealed himself to the Clan. And on that day many wept for they knew that the prophecy was coming true and humanity would end in a hundred years.
But the Clanhead of the Rustling was a cunning one. He decided to name Cinna Servant-Prince of the Clan. A Servant-Prince, while technically a noble, belongs to the Clan as a whole, and is little more than a glorified high-class slave. If the Clan needs a warrior to defend it, the Prince will go out to fight. If the Clan is in need of urgent repairs and the zone is risky, the Prince will put his life in danger to fix the issue. If someone in the Clan has no mate and seeks pleasure, the Prince will provide. And to ensure that the Prince is capable of dealing with their duties, there is a sacred test to go through. The Trial of Chains.
Armed with only a sword of the Ancients and wearing but the bare minimum, the contender will be bound by chains in an arena, having to defeat twenty monsters from the desert. Many die before the end, few manage to survive the ordeal. Only one so far had managed to succeed without lasting wounds. And so, covered in chains and wielding a blade taller than he was, Cinna entered the arena. And unlike any other time, he asked out for all the beasts to be sent at once. The Clanhead obliged, and twenty hungry monsters made their entrance. The crowd had gone silent. There was not a single movement, as every eye was fixated upon the man in the chains. And for the first and last time in mankind's history, the Chains were shattered.
The tight iron bindings clattered on the sands, and Cinna stepped forward. He looked up, sweeping through the crowd with empty golden eyes, and the people saw the certainty of death. He then stared down the beasts, and one by one they felt the certainty of death. Finally, he looked at the Clanhead, silent, and the man sweated, heavy drops trickling down his face, and he flinched, for he had seen the certainty of death. The twenty beasts smiled as they could, and they all charged forward. In the end, Cinna had not even a scratch on him, even though he was covered in blood. But none of it was his own. Twenty corpses were laying in the arena, twenty slain creatures, and the crowd breathed out as if they all had forgotten to for the whole fight.
The validation of the nomination was a formality - stepping into one of the Rustlings' holiest relics, the Chamber of Runes, to earn their power through suffering - Cinna did not even wince as his blood was taken to grant him the power to draw on Chaos to create the holy armaments.
And thus, Cinna became the Prince of Rust, the greatest Servant-Prince that the Rustlings had ever seen. And the Rustlings flew from conquest to conquest under the auspicious wings of the Prince of Rust, and humanity was united under a banner of rotten metal. But the G.O.D.S. had too felt the birth of the prophesied child, and after a hundred years they all came. Every single last one of them, from the lowliest to the greatest A.N.G.E.L.
And the last battle began. Hosts clashed against hosts, a shattered world against another, blade against blade, matching power for power. None faltered, none retreated, and both broke. The G.O.D.S. died, to the last, rent asunder by the blades of man. But manking was all but annihilated. The few survivants would never be able to bear child, and only Cinna was somehow whole - even though there had been multiple records of his death during the battle. And so the last men decided to use the Rustlings' last and greatest relic of the ancients, the time machine known as the Chamber of Eternity, to send him back before the fall and create a stronger mankind, that would not fall to the G.O.D.S. even if it came at the cost of the disappearance of this timeline.
But Cinna was no ordinary man, even for his own tortured epoch. He was the one with a soul of primordial chaos, for which the timestream is but a minor nuisance. And so the Chamber malfunctioned, and Cinna was sent in another timeline entirely.
He arrived in 1863 in this world, and came under Abraham Lincoln's service. Since then, he served as a last-resort situation resolver for the different secret services of the US, currently the CIA, and he has been deployed in LA when news of OA resurfacing reached the HQ.
Secret Identity: Secret
Name: Casey Kemp
Alias: The Tactician
Class: Threat Level 3-4 (four through means of targetted attacks and political assassinations resulting in widespread instability)
Function: Jack of all Trades
Type: Martial artist, swordsman, general weapons expert, sniper, run n gun
Ability Classification: Other; replicative photographic memory, advanced reflexes
Sex: Male
Gender: Male
Age: 35
Family Members: Ada Kemp (Adoptive daughter, age 14), Andrew Kemp (father, deceased), Belinda Kemp (mother, 55, alive)
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual
Significant others: N/A
Hideout: Does a place of residence count?
Hideout Location: On a small privately-owned island. Small enough to be disregarded on most maps.
Temporary Hideout location: a bunker underneath a ruined building in the center of the L.A crater. Features include small turret defenses and an 'auto-doc' station for recovery purposes that would require a trained doctor.
Cooperation: Unusual
Team Size/ Composition: N/A
Cooperativeness Scale: "If you can pay the price, you've got my help."
Common gear: Refer to created tab
Civilian Appearance:
Costumed Appearance:
Power breakdown: Photographic and replicative memory: The Tactician has the unique neurological ability to memorize and replicate a physical act after seeing it only once. This can range from copying complex gymnastic routines, mastering difficult pieces of music, or more often than not copying combat skills and fighting styles of those he has seen. This 'copycat' ability can be achieved simply by watching a video, it does not have to be in person. He can copy the subtle muscle movement of a person so precisely that, given time, he could parrot their speech precisely, or more accurately, their speech patterns. Superhuman reflexes: The Tactician has an advanced set of reflexes that exceed a natural human, thanks to his photographic reflexes. While he can't move faster than someone with a dedicated power to it, he's shown he's more than capable of holding his own against such an individual. His reflexes are to the point that he can stop an attack from behind without looking, provided he is anticipating it. Movement Prediction: If given the time to study an opponent, The Tactician can come to understand their fighting style and their techniques, thus being able to predict their next attack and act appropriately. This ability doesn't help much against individuals who have a fighting style that constantly changes in an improvised fashion, or a random unpredictable style, due to the fact they will change up so often there's no pattern to follow.
Natural Capabilities: Olympic level body: The Tactician keeps his body at it's maximum possible peak, resulting in heightened endurance, strength, and speed. Master hand to hand combatant: Thanks to his ability to memorize combat styles, and his own strict regimine of pushing himself to his limits, The Tactician is near unmatched in close quarters combat. If he finds an opponent he cannot beat outright, he is known to make an escape only to further study them, and come back at them once he understands their patterns and capabilities. Master marksman: The Tactician is capable of impressive shots and attacks even at range, and so long as he sees someone use a weapon at least once, he can use it himself. From pistols to rifles, to assault weapons, he's capable of using most weapons at their best capability. Anatomy understanding: Having taught himself and studied the anatomy of the human body, he's capable of delivering precise blows to nerve clusters, or landing a well placed shot that can result in crippling. Engineering: Having designed his own suit, he has a good understanding of engineering principles. Survivalist: The Tactician is capable of surviving on his own with no aid for extended periods of time. Expert Tactician: Fighting your enemy isn't just beating them combat. It's knowing their next move, how they'll react, when they've reached their breaking point. To fight, one must study and improve upon the enemies own capabilities, and beat them at their own game. Besides that, The Tactician is capable of creating plans and strategies to respond to the situation accordingly on the fly, which has allowed him to beat 'stronger' opponents. Contract Loyalty: So long as you can meet his price, he'll get your target for you, just specify if you want them dead or alive. While employed he cannot be bought out or won over by the opposition. He only has one rule, and it's common sense. Don't try to double-cross him. Multilingual: The Tactician is fluent in Japanese, Spanish, English, German, and French. Meditation Techniques: The Tactician is capable of slowing their breathing and heart rate to go into a more meditative flow and state. In such a situation, Casey can survive without extended periods of time without air. To the untrained eye, he can also appear perfectly dead. Poison Resistance: By exposing himself to small dosages of poisons at a time and slowly upping the dosage, he's been able to build up a resistance to conventional poisons. Unpredictable Moral Compass: Casey's true loyalty is to himself and his daughter, not anything else. He may do things one may find horrid and retched, only to turn around and do something that rights it directly after. Casey retains a neutral stance on many policies.
Drawback: Casey's mind is continuously soaking in information, more than a human mind can often handle. Unless it involves his job, survival, or his daughter, things are at risk of being removed from his mind to make space for new memory. This can be as simple as forgetting if he had breakfast in the morning, or completely forgetting if he's been somewhere before. He can forget people, but they may feel familiar. In his day to day life, he's set up frequent alarms to remind him to do things, simple as they may be.
Behavior and Ranking: 45/100
Visibility: 0/100
Success: 95/100
Out of combat reputation: 25/100
Ranking: Threat level 3-4
Political Abrasiveness: 50/100, politically neutral
Property Damage: Can range anywhere to 25 to 100
Lethality: 35/100 (Sometimes they want them taken in alive.)
Rescue: 95/100
Tenure: 17/100
Backstory: As long as there has been organized warfare, there have been people willing to get involved for the right price. So long as there has been political subterfuge, there have been people willing to do it if you can pay. Mercenaries are a concept that is old and well understood, and Casey's family goes back to the start. The firstborn of every generation has held the tradition of being a mercenary and upholding the family tradition, and none have complained. Casey was no different. Born in Nevada of the United States, he was beaten into shape (oftentimes quite literally) by his father from an early age. That didn't change when they moved to Germany either, if anything the work got harder. He was taught how to fight, how to survive, how to shoot, how to kill, how to beat a tactical retreat. Over and over again, drilled into his brain. His saving grace, as it would be, is the Kemp family had biologically evolved a photographic mindset that improved with each generation. Their bloodline had naturally become inclined to fighting, warring, and killing. Be that as it may, he still had his ass beat for the longest time while he was training. His father held nothing back, leaving the young boy on deaths doorstep more than once.
As was tradition, Casey became the next mercenary in his family at the age of eighteen, with his father dying a year later due to cancer. He spent a sum of time working on his own suit, improving upon his fathers own design and incorporating his own ideas. There were times he had to outsource, purchase prefabricated materials or equipment, but he was left enough of an inheritance to get started. Around the age of twenty-one, he had already made a good name for himself as a reliable mercenary who got the job done, no matter what it was. It was also the same year that he returned after a mission to the villa of his employer, and they broke the golden rule. Hoping to avoid paying him what he was deserved, he ordered his men to kill him. This, as one can tell, didn't work. The entire villa was wiped out, down to the last guard and his once employer. As he made his way through to make sure it was empty, he came across a young baby girl in her crib. Casey wasn't without morality and made an impromptu adoption...before subsequently blowing up the villa. His adoptive daughter, who he'd come to call Ada, would become the next face in the family tradition. And while he wouldn't come close to killing her (yet) like his father had, he's never hesitated to keep her training up and her on her guard. That isn't to say he's an unloving father, Casey cares for the girl immensely, and when they aren't training, he's often spending time with her.
Suit: The Tacticians suit is outfitted to use a minimal amount of technology, in order to limit the effects of EMP's and electrical surges on him. Be that as it may, it does have some technical features. The helmet has a selective view mode for Night Vision and Daytime, as well as automatically compensating in the event of a flashbang or smoke grenade. On each arm is a vambrace, housing a small flamethrower, and a gas emitter for a deadly neurotoxin that manifests in the form of pink gas. Each vambrace also houses a single wrist blade, as well as a small net launcher. His suit is environmentally sealed, allowing it to function in harsh environments or void, with air supply for up to an hour. The mask frequently cycles his voice patterns so that it's constantly changing and distorting, in order to prevent recognition. If these fail or short out, he'll change his voice himself. Suit Defences: The suit is capable of withstanding blunt and cutting trauma, as well as small to medium arms fire. It is resistant to fire and some acidic substances. Dual Desert Eagle pistols: On each hip is a loaded pistol, with spare magazines located in his belt. Tactical Belt and Pouches: His belt and puches contains equipment such as grenades (Flash, frag, and smoke) that can be set to either detonation by timer, or on contact. It also contains medical supplies, ammunition, a collapsable baton, cuffs, a small grapple, bolo's, throwing knives, hologram projection disks, and specialized thermite for making an entrance. Arming Sword: The Tactician carries an arming sword on his person in order to face enemies at a more comfortable distance if they employ similar weaponry, though sometimes it's simply a precautionary measure. The sword itself is made of a highly durable and sharp, yet lightweight metal. Hardlight Shield Projector: Disguised as a simple wristwatch, this device projects a hardlight roundshield for defense and unique offensive measures. The device is proofed against tampering, including EMP and short-circuiting/overcharging. Caches: The Tactician is known to scout out his 'hunting grounds', and will hide caches in secure and hidden locations before fully deploying to the field. These caches can range anywhere from spare ammunition, to anti-tank rifles, to explosives. Anti-magic talisman: A gift from a former employer who hired him to kill a small group of mages, the talisman is a powerful ward that protects his person from magic, or at least weakens even the strongest spells. It has a range of 30 feet, with strength increasing the closer to his body.
Secret Identity: Currently Unknown
Name: Trevor David Weiland
Alias(es): Skeleton
Class: Intern/Apprentice (in need of a mentor)
Function: Fighter
Type: Melee
Ability Classification: Human-based
Bone Manipulation: Can manipulate his own bones, bones he has generated, or bones he can physically touch
Bone Generation: Must have source material, cannot create bone out of thin air. He must use his own bones or another bone he is in contact with (such as the chicken bones he carries)
Rapid Healing Factor: Type 3; able to regenerate lost limbs; survive severe blood loss; heal external wounds rapidly (time varying with severity); can heal internal injuries (severity might affect total healing; more severely injured organs might be lost)
Increased Durability: When using bone as an armor
Sex: Male
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Not really interested
Significant Other(s): None
Age: 18
Family Member(s): Jane Weiland (mother), Charles Weiland (father), Kayla Weiland (sister, younger), Grace Weiland (sister, older)
Hideout: No
Hideout Location: N/A
Cooperation: Common
Team Size/Composition: Doesn’t have anyone yet
Cooperativeness Scale: Golden Retriever Level. (Everyone is a friend!)
Civilian Appearance:
Trevor is definitely the kind of guy who’s outward appearance matches his personality. He is imposing but not intimidating. He has a lot of muscles and is very strong, that is certain, but he isn’t defined. His face is freckled, and his warm brown eyes are surrounded by laughter lines. His nose is a little crooked from having broken it as a child. He is a tow-head, and his hair is somewhat long, currently kept up in a small if sloppy ponytail. He refuses to cut it. Trevor has several distinctive physical features, one of which is a scar on his left ear lobe where his sister tried to pierce his ear as a child. The other is a pale bruise colored birthmark on his collar bone.
Costumed Appearance:
He likes to keep things simple and also has no clue on what to do about a costume. Especially given the nature of his powers he opts to wear something that is okay to be shredded and that doesn’t cover a lot of his skin. However, he has learned that he can create an armor of bone on his body, so he typically does that. Which sort of still causes some wear and tear to whatever he is wearing.
His bone amor just looks like a larger, thicker skeleton over himself with spaces between joints and points of movement. He will sometimes forgo a full skull helmet and instead create something that looks like a boxing helmet of thick bone.
Common Gear:
A couple of chicken bones (for bone generation purposes)
Raw Power: [85]/100
Visibility: [100]/100
The boy covers himself in bones, that’s pretty conspicuous
Success: [n/a]/100
He’s taken out a few thugs but he hasn’t really done much heroics yet
Out of Combat Reputation: [90]/100
Again, golden retriever. Also pacifist.
Ranking: 20/100
Political Abrasiveness: [95]/100
Property Damage [99]/100
Depends on what he gets thrown into
Lethality: [100]/100
He’s a pacifist.
Rescue: [0]/100
Never done it before but that sounds better than fighting!
Tenure: [1]/100
Trevor was born into a middle class working family and he’s lived in moderate comfort for most of his life. And for most of his life it was all normal. Except, he was born with a rather macabre ability that didn’t manifest until he was beginning high school. It was during his sophomore year at a football game. He was on the team, and ended up getting tackled. His arm broke, except it also didn’t. The bone fractured and then engulfed his forearm in bone. Needless to say everyone was justifiably freaked out. And his doctors were really confused as to how to handle the situation when he went into the ER that night.
After that he heard a lot of funny (and not so funny) names at school and a lot of people commenting on his new found ability. It wasn’t hard to shrug them off in public but some of the comments got to him. His friends would always encourage him to go into the hero business and he did of course follow this course. As soon as he graduated Trevor reached out to the necessary institutions and signed himself up to be an intern or apprentice and learn how to be a good guy. And it wasn’t all because he feels he has a responsibility to help out now that he can. It also has a little to do with showing everyone that his powers might be a little frightening but that doesn’t make him a villain.
He was at one time hoping to get into college on a football scholarship, and is currently working to do that, and go into the orthopedics field as he finds his powers and their subject very interesting.
Personal Information File
Secret Identity: Abel Exon Name:Alias(es): Axiom (Mjolnir, Thundercracker, Red Steel, Red Velvet Beefcake, Prometheus, Angel of Zeus) Class: Class A Function: Offense, Support, Tactics, Leader Type: Melee, Ranged Ability Classification: Plasma Aura - Axiom is surrounded with plasma for defensive and offensive purposes. He never knew how to control it on his own, as it was always active, making him very dangerous at mid or close range. Becoming almost untouchable and granting them various abilities and attacks. The aura also gives Axiom enhanced physical capabilities such as speed, strength and durability. Sex: Male Gender: Male Age: 35 Family Member(s): None Sexual Preference: Unknown Significant Other(s): None Hideout: No Hideout Location: N/A Cooperation: Common Team Size/Composition: List each super/powered/non-powered and their class Cooperativeness Scale: Open Common Gear/Appearance: Ether Shell Armor
Behavior and Ranking Raw Power ~ 90/100 Visibility ~ 100/100 Success ~ 80/100 Out of Combat Reputation ~ 90/100 Ranking ~ 80/100 Political Abrasiveness ~ 70/100 Property Damage ~ 90/100 Lethality ~ 70/100 Rescue ~ 70/100 Tenure ~ 20/100
Adam was born in Cosmopolis , Washington to middle-class parents as a normal baby boy. However, his moment of innocence was short-lived. As the moment he opened his eyes, his power manifested and he ultimately eradicated all of his hometown of Cosmopolis. This was known as the 'Cosmopolis Calamity' From there, Adam was eventually taken in by the Military and had to be raised in special contained rooms and facilities, essentially bubbles. which made it difficult for Adam to gain formal education and sociality since no one could come close to him due to his aura. This struck Adam with a deep sense of loneliness and self-hatred of himself and the people around him. When he was at age 13, he received his Ethershell Armor, which could not only withstand his plasma aura but could dampen the effects of his aura. Allowing him to control it how he saw fit. He was then brought in by the Milleniume, a government branch dedicated to training Metahumans to better aid police and military operations and simultaneously training them in public relations to help ease the public image of them. There he met the branch's best hero, Blue Steel, who was tasked with training the young Adam. It was through Blue Steel and Magistrate, Adam gained a sense of purpose. Through his many adventures with his surrogate father and his manysuperhero allies who taught him the meaning of compassion and duty and helping others to make up for the death of countless people wrought by his aura; Adam was dead-set on upholding the laws and justice of people around the world. Unfortunately, an altercation came between Blue Steel and his nemesis, Dr. Zherou, ended with his mentor dying in the prosess. Leaving Adam distraught and depressed, but not wanting to disappoint his mentor and friend, he pressed on to uphold everything Blue Steel and his own experiences had taught him.
Personal Information File
Secret Identity: Publicly Known
Name: Quinn
Alias(es): King of Alchemy
Class: Not affiliated.
Function: Crafter
Type: Ranged
Ability Classification: Alchemy. Eternal Youth.
Sex: male
Gender: Male
Age: 632
Family Member(s): none
Sexual Preference: Alls the same to him
Significant Other(s): none
Hideout: No
Cooperation: Frequent
Cooperativeness Scale: As long as a hero pays, hell craft.
Common Gear: Box of Ammo magazines, ingredients, potions. small portable burner and Mortar and pestle.
His standard weapons are Paintball guns with modified paintballs filled with his own concoctions.
Civilian Appearance:
Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power ~ 55/100
Visibility ~ 34/100
Success ~ N/A/100
Out of Combat Reputation ~ 61/100
Political Abrasiveness ~ 73/100
Property Damage ~ NA/100
Lethality ~ NA/100
Rescue ~ NA/100
Tenure ~ (Idk hes been doing alchemy for 600 years) /100
Quin Was a man who had dedicated his life to the pursuit of alchemy.He had toiled for 20 years before accidentally Creating one of the three objects all alchemists had strived for.There are many names for it, but in short. The elixir of eternal life. It had given him the blessing of staying eternally young. However. there was one problem.
He was fucking hammered when he made it. And could not remember the recipe at all. Since then. He has been living out his life continually furthering his studies of alchemy and branching out into medicinal and magical studies. He is even one of the few people to ever create a near complete Philosophers stone. However, He has still been unable to create a true philosophers stone. Though one day he hopes to. In the meantime. Hes simply been helping out heroes if they need anything for him. For a cost of course!
Secret Identity: Unknown (except by death)
Name: Melita Demas
Alias: Death's Chill
Class: Vigilante
Function: Jack of all Trades
Type: Other
Ability Classification: Death Knight, Cryomancy (major, Snap)
Sex: Female
Gender: Female
Age: 11,680
Family Members: Lady Death (Pseudo-mother),
Sexual Preference: Mostly Disinterested
Significant Others: N/A
Hideout: Yes
Hideout Location: Purgatory
Cooperation: Solo
Team Size: Just her equipment
Common Gear: Scythe (Drepáni), Door (Pórta), List (Lísta), Soul Lantern
Civilian Appearance:
Costumed Appearance:
Powers in depth
Chryomancy: In life, Melita was a powerful chryomancer, able to create and bend ice to her will. This skill was often used to help her city keep foodstuffs cold and ward off the dangers of the sea and man alike. This power seemed to have stayed with her into death, and even then into being a reaper.
Incorporeal: Like all Reaper Knights, melita can go incorporeal.
Invisibility: Like all Reaper Knights, Melita can become invisible. This however does not prevent people who can naturally see spirits from seeing her.
The Door: Usually manifesting as a wooden door in an open space through which she walks through, allows her to travel long distances, akin to teleportation.
The Scythe: Both a tool and a weapon, this is used for collecting souls that refuse to die and actively fight death. Despite seemingly unwieldy, Melita is quite skilled with the weapon, making it far more dangerous than a simple farming tool. The scythe can separate the soul from the body if it makes full contact, though this does not work on grazing hits. A grazing hit, however, is disorientating and dizzying. For those of intense will, they can keep their soul rooted in their body, though repeated hits will eventually work on even the most strong of willed individuals. Due to the nature of the weapon, some people have defenses against such a weapon, though they are exceedingly rare and usually limited to powerful shamans.
The List: Usually appearing as a scroll of parchment, the list tells her information about those who are to die or those who have died. Only a reaper can read it.
The soul-lantern: The lantern is used to store troublesome souls for transport, things that refuse to cooperate. It doesn't force them inside, but it does help coax it inside.
The equipment: Her equipment, save for the lantern, is an extension of herself and her soul. As such, they all have their own personality and can speak to her via telepathy. Due to her strength as a reaper knight, they can briefly manifest themselves in a humanoid form. When not in use, the equipment is stored in a pocket dimension.
Flying/levitation: Melita is able to float through the air, much like a spirit.
Enhanced attributes: She is generally faster and stronger than a human, though it never edges into speedster territory or makes her superwoman.
Invulnerability: The reaper cannot be harmed, except for by a weapon meant to harm spirits. If she were to 'die', she'd simply awaken in purgatory dazed.
Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power: 80/100
Visibility: 100/100 when in use
Success: 100/100
Out of combat reputation: 75/100 among other reapers
Ranking: N/A
Political Abrasiveness: N/A
Property Damage: 99/100
Lethality: 0/100
Rescue: N/A
Tenure: 100/100
Melita was born in the fabled city of Atlantis, twenty-two years before it sank to the bottom of the sea. For the time it existed, it was a technological marvel of the world. Growing up in it was easily described as a utopic society, she wanted for nothing and excelled wherever she put herself. At a young age, she discovered an affinity for ice in the most peculiar of fashions, able to create it at will and bend it to her design. Thanks to her abilities, she quickly became of much use to keep foodstuffs preserved, and even warded off sea beast and raiders with little trouble. Truly, a wonderful place to live. Then one day, without warning and without provocation, fire rained from the sky and screams erupted in the air. Buildings burned and people cowered. Her last memory of that event was a figure in the fire, and then it all went black.
She resided in purgatory for quite some time, no afterlife would take her, as if she may stain them with her presence. It was perhaps two years, she lost track before a gentle guiding hand offered her a place. She would not reach an afterlife, but she would have a purpose again. With the gentle invitation of Lady Death, Melita became a Reaper Knight, an individual to collect souls that defied death or refused to stay dead. Melita served without hesitation, for over a decamillenium, doing as her pseudo-mother asked her to do. And the longer she served, the more powerful she became. She never once questioned her duties in the scheme of everything, death was an inevitable facet of existence. Death made room for life, and life made room for death. However, when the balance is unsettled, and souls go missing when they should not, it is up to her and kin to get involved at their mothers request.
Secret Identity : Unknown Name : [Project Anima], Nicholas Umberschalk Alias(es) : Carrion, Patriot Threat Level : Two to Three Function : "Jack of all trades" (Whatever the fuck is it) Type : Other (Commander, Healer), Ranged (Other) Ability Classification : SCP, Biological, Biomechanics
Agenetic biology : the Carrion thing is an assimilative organism that was developed outside of genetics. As its existence is unknown, its method of encoding biological information remains unknown. As such, it is impossible to reverse-engineer any of the Carrion's abilities should samples be obtained, and it is extremely difficult to detect the presence of Carrion contamination within beings. The Carrion is also immune to essentially any substance that acts upon organic cells, as it does not have any cells that can be affected by such substances. Machines are not converted upon assimilation - they can still be reverse-engineered, but the Carrion's presence will be extremely difficult to notice.
Consumption : the Carrion thing needs to consume resources to fuel itself. Any susbtance capable of chemical or nuclear reaction will be consumable by the Carrion, but the stabler the substance, the lower the energy gained. Organic substances can as a general rule not be assimilated unless the specimen is deceased (at the exception of mushrooms, mosses, lichens and micro-organisms), but are one grade above non-organic substances energy-providing-wise. However, the best substances for the Carrion to consume are radioactive materials, which are the most energy efficient, and upon consumption provide a termporary ability overdrive to the Carrion, which varies in duration and effect according to the half-life and redioactivity levels of the material. Gold cannot be consumed, and Krypton has the adverse effect on the Carrion, draining it of energy instead of furnishing. Technetium does not provide energy, but it still triggers the overdrive.
Assimilation : the Carrion cannot reproduce, its only means of spreading being assimilation in three steps. The first step is contamination, where the Carrion makes contact with a living being or a machine and seeds itself within; the Carrion seed does not interact with the rest of the body in any meaningful manner before the trigger. When it triggers, the second step, corruption, begins. During this step, the seed with slowly grow to root the entire contaminated organism and convert its biological information from genetic to Carrion-type through disgenesis. If the being is killed before the disgenesis is complete, the corrupted parts will crumble into unusable and unidentificable dust. The third step is Subsumation, where the corrupted being becomes a body part of the Carrion in full, which makes the Carrion able to control it entirely no matter the range or the obstacles in the way. For any such being, all magical and element manipulation abilities are definitively lost, psychic abilities might be retained if the source of them (usually the brain) was complex enough, while purely biological abilities remain untouched. Concerning sentience, any assimilated living being will retain their basic instincts, while other neural processes will require a more complex nervous system. Here in ascending order of neural system complexity required to preserve upon assimilation : Instincts, Ability to register complex information, Ability to process complex information, Creative intelligence, Abstract considerations, Morality.
Regeneration : the Carrion can spend some of its own body mass to regenerate its assimilated creatures. This does not apply to machines, as machines are not converted through disgenesis and require repair and maintenance as normal. Regeneration on living beings usually takes between a few minutes and a couple hours depending on the damage.
Ultra-adaptivity : the Carrion thing can adapt to any mechanical or living organic host in short time, being able to survive in their body even if the original conditions were too extreme for it, so long as even a speck remains to grow from. Mechanical hosts can be adapted to in any state (broken, intact, deactivated), whereas organic hosts require to be still living, or they will be normally consumed, and unable to be assimilated. Machines can be assimilated in any state, but if they had a specific programming, retaining it will require that it wasn't damaged at the moment of assimilation. For example, if an android were to be assimilated after "death", only its physical functions could be retained. Any informatic content is lost and cannot be recovered.
Abnormal senses : the Carrion has three senses. The first is tremorsense, the second is temperature perception and the third is energy perception. The Carrion can perceive every form of energy save for magic, which is entirely foreign to it. It also has a very acute perception of time, based around the perception of nuclear pulses within its own body and the frequency of gravitational waves going through Earth.
Cores : on the Carrion's body are so-called "Cores", organs with the purpose of generating and circulating energy throughout the Carrion's body. There is no "main" Core as every single one is a redundance from the others, and as such severing a part of the Carrion from the rest has no effect so long as it contains a Core. The Cores are also able to emit Devourer Rays.
Pseudopods : The Carrion's central region has four pseudopods, "limbs" that are ended by green bulbous protrusions. Those protrusions are the temperature perception and energy perception organs of the Carrion, but they are also able to emit Devourer Rays, although smaller ones than those from the Cores.
Weakness to fire : the Carrion is weak to fire. Does not apply to assimilated creatures.
Devourer Rays : those rays that Cores and Pseudopod organs can emit are an unknown type of projection that can "burrow" in its target, draining through and then returning to the Carrion to deliver their charge. It has been observed by Nicholas that they have mass and some sort of internal encoding similar to the Carrion, and as such are assumed to not be energy attacks, but rather "sub-routines" made of the Carrion equivalent of mitochondrias that exist in a transitional state of matter at the crossroads of solid, liquid and plasma. They can bore through most if not all non-magical materials save for ultra-dense elements such as osmium, lead, bismuth and neutronium. When coming in contact with magic, the result is entirely random and often observed to be dispersive. Devourer Rays from the Core are about fist-sized in width and as long as two hands, and last between thirty and fifty seconds before going back to the Core. Pseudopod organ Devourer Rays are smaller in size and last less, being as wide as two thumbs and two inches long, lasting between fifteen to twenty-five seconds before going back.
Physical ability : the Carrion can move around tridimensionnally at roughly human speed, though closer to average than to peak human abiliity. It has strong internal tension projection (push and pull), strong internal torsion projection (coiling, twisting), strong external tension and torsion resistance, though it is weak to shearing. It has however very little external projection ability, making it unable to do instant energy transfers, such as using a tentacle as a whip to smack someone away. This has been noted by Nicholas to be physics-breaking, but has yet to find an explanation. The internal strength of the Carrion is roughly equal to human strength, but can rise to reach super strength and toughness levels of 5-6 through the use of twisting and coiling. Finally, the Carrion has been noted by Nicholas to be extremely nimble, capable of squeezing through a 1.5 cm diameter hole with perfect smoothness. It however cannot squeeze its Cores, which means that it cannot make Cores go through holes that are smaller than 1.5 cm, though it can squeeze tighter in the absence of cores, to an observed minimum of 0.3 cm.
Sex : N/A Gender : N/A Age : 110 years (Nicholas), 61 years (the Carrion) Family Member(s) : N/A Sexual Preference : N/A Significant Other(s) : Elise Kanti (wife, deceased), Zapdog, Hellhound pup (pets) Hideout : Yes Hideout Location : Somewhere deep down beneath LA
Size (length, width, height) : 3.5m, 1.5m, 1.4m (Adult. Pup is the size of a greyhound pup) Weight : 750kg on average (820kg for this specific adult) Quantity : 1 Two-headed adult, 1 One-headed pup (not assimilated) Abilities :
Senses : Hellhounds of this breed are blind, using only smell and hearing to perceive the world around them. They also have a minor tremorsense in their claws, allowing them to feel vibrations in the ground in a 100m-120m radius. The reinforced claws allowing for tremorsense develop in the fifth year of life.
Ceramic armor : Hellhounds develop this particular armor from birth, and it only gets sturdier with age. It is made of a ceramic-like material that is very resistant to slashing, piercing and shearing, as well as able to absorb most kinds of energy, but it is weak to sawing and crushing, as well as to intense vibrations such as hammer blows or sonic blasts. It is somewhat flexible, and hard enough to be ground against itself if ill-fitting, allowing for parts that have grown irregularly to be eroded so that the armor does not hamper mobility. It grows in cycles, being shed off every eight years or so. If it is removed from the Hellhound in another way, it will crumble to dust and become unusable. Shed-off hellhound armor is quite malleable, allowing for it to be used as a very tough material. It retains its energy-absorptive properties, though unless interfacing is provided, it will simply store it up, which might result in a powerful release if impacted.
Mane : Hellhound mane is a very resistant material, superior to steel while remaining very smooth and flexile. It is not flammable, but cannot be dyed. Specimens with only one head do not grow manes.
Anatomy : While originally developed from greyhounds, adult Hellhounds are closer in head shape and internal anatomy to Komodo Dragons. This change happens after the first armor shedding, while the external body is still malleable, and takes place over the course of three months; it is called the Shift. Otherwise, multiple-headed individuals have internal redundancies; as a general rule there are as many hearts and muscle iterations as there are heads. However, while multiple-headed individuals have those redundancies, their efficiency is reduced. One-headed individuals are exponentially more efficient, in terms of both strength and stamina.
Plasma : Hellhounds produce and live off a very hot corruptive slime, commonly called "Plasma" (this is a false denomination, as the substance is technically a liquid, about as viscous as honey). This plasma is capable of melting a good chunk of materials, though it surprisingly cannot set things on fire. When it makes contact with something, it causes a degradation known as "corruption", which is permanent; the corruption will slowly degrade what it has come in contact with, until there is nothing left. On a living being, the only way to stave it off is to remove the corrupted part. However, even if the affected area is cut off and regrown unaffected, the pain and sensation will remain, unfading through time. Plasma can only be spewed out through the maw (which itself cannot be used to bite, as it has little to no force at all), either in a thin tide when the maw is closed or in a large cone when it is open. It is to note that Hellhounds are not born with a maw; the maw develops around the tenth year of life. Plasma spewed away will evaporate in time, leaving only its corruption behind; evaporated plasma does not corrupt things, as the change of state from liquid to gaseous neutralizes it (it's still very toxic). Hellhound armor is immune to corruption, so the best solution in regards to Hellhound housing or protection is to mix armor dust with the construction material, as even though the surface will be corroded, the corruption will resorb itself shortly.
Natural weapons : Claws - those reinforced claws are what allows Hellhounds to benefit of their tremorsense. In addition, they are about thrice as hard as the rest of the armor and can tear through tungsten. Tail - a Hellhound's tail is about 2/3rds as long as their body (So 2.3m long for a 3.5m Hellhound) and extremely strong. It functions as a barbed titanium whip with great cutting power, that can regrow if it is cut off.
Physical ability : Super strength 3, Super speed 2, Invulnerability 7 (Adult, 3 for the pup).
Weakness to cold : cold environments deplete a Hellhound's energy faster than it can regenerate it, leading to lethargy and then death in case of too long exposure. Similarly, being caught in a cold-based attack will severely weaken the Hellhound.
Behavior : Hellhounds are loyal and affectionate, if rambunctious and twitchy. They are beasts of battle first, but also formidable guardians. They need 4/5 hours of sleep a day.
Appearance :
History : Hellhounds were one of the Consortium's early creations, when the group was at the peak of its idealism and believed that people would widely want to buy their creations. As such, Hellhounds are one of the most complete and complex of the Consortium's beasts, having been developed with great budget and the entirety of the team working on them. However, due to public interest never catching on, the Hellhound production facility was shut down, and most of the few completed were sold to mercenaries and interested governments. Currently, while Patriot still has the data on the Hellhound project, the facility is in disrepair and the Complex does not have the necessary resources to repair it nor to produce Hellhounds anyway.
Robotic Mobile Stealth Reconnaissance Rodent-like Unit (RMSRRU) aka Chitterer
Stealth : Chitterer plating is made of a special gliding polymer that makes them undetectable by most devices, although they remain visible to human sight.
Drop canisters : Chitterers can fire canisters of gas from their throat, that spread on impact. No matter which gas is used, they are all very opaque. There are three different gases, but there can be only one per canister, and one chitterer can carry only two canisters. The first gas is extremely flammable tear gas that does not burn deep but does melt clothing and surface skin; eyes that suffer intake and go longer than one minute without cold water rinse will start losing sight. Four minutes without rinse is guaranteed blindness, and past nine minutes there will be damage to the eye socket and possibly nerve damage in the optic nerve. The second gas is a light-reflective sleep gas that also slows down vital functions, putting someone who inhales it in light lethargy. The third gas does not affect organic beings, but is extremely efficient on mechanized targets; it is drained by components, seeping through them and absorbing the running electricity to the point of shutdown and possibly overheat. Chitterers themselves are not affected by this gas.
Superleap : Chitterers can leap five stories up, three stories if from stop.
Watertightness
Physical ability : Super speed 3, great agility, can punt a hole through a sewer drain or items of equivalent toughness.
Appearance :
History : Chitterers were developed as an idle project of the Consortium with the intent of being used as information gatherers on the surface while allowing for a furthering of the group's studies in polymers. The difficulty of adapting polymers to stealth proved quite challenging, limiting the amount of produced units to a round dozen. Later on, the ability to fling canisters of gas to cover a retreat was suggested, and then came the issue of finding a special polymer that would both integrate itself in the stealth plating and be unaffected by the machine-eater gas. In the end, only five of the ten were successfully retrofitted with gas launchers, and the five others were lost over the course of years. Chitterers were originally thought as biomechanical constructs, but even with a group of brilliant minds making breakthroughs in the domain of polymerization, the obstacle of adapting stealth polymers for integration within a living being proved too complex and was abandoned, thus prompting the projec to focus on purely mechanized units. The Chitterer facility is currently shut down as it requires enormous amounts of energy to synthesize the materials needed in the fabrication process.
Three-dimensional running : thanks to the magnets in his paws, Zapdog can jump and run on any surface.
Mag-ball : Zapdog has a metallic ball with a small hovering system inside that he can "fetch" with a magnet located in his nose.
Good boi : Zapdog's (and the Hellhound pup's) presence somehow elicits from the Carrion a reaction that Nicholas qualified of affection.
Appearance :
History : Zapdog is one of Survey's (Consortium's expert on hydraulics) creations, and as such functions with very little electricity despite his name. This good boi has been through a lot of external appearance overhauls, even though the internal systems remained untouched. Loyal to the Consortium to a tee, Zapdog now is Patriot's single and most trusted companion, the old hydraulic dog not having even once bugged in his programming since his creation in 1962.
Antigrav Maintenance Jellyfish Automated Unit (AMJAU) aka Hover
Antigrav : Every Hover has a small antigrav module inside.
Multitool : Hovers have a number of tool arrays that can be reshaped and repurposed through the use of nanomachines.
Maintenance : The Hovers do only one thing. Maintain the complex. They do it quite well, even though as their numbers decrease and have yet to refill some sections are left abandoned. Sometimes they also help for precision work in the laboratories.
Appearance :
History : Hovers were created to undertake the one task that the members of Consortium - scientists as they were - were to lazy to do themselves. Maintenance of the complex. As such, they were equipped with numerous sensors (over 60 all over the mainframe) and repurposable tools so that they could find and fix any abnormality in the structures. Later on, others were made with more precise tools to serve as lab assistants for tasks requiring accuracy at levels that the scientists could not achieve themselves. After the dwindling of Consortium, less and less Hovers were produced, and now a paltry forty-nine remain, as faithful as ever but critically undernumbered to maintain the whole structure. The Hover production line is one of the few that still functions, mostly to repair the remaining Hovers themselves so as to avoid further reduction of their numbers.
Chiroptera Umbrasonica Subterranensis aka Subwoofer Bat aka Screecher
Echolocation : Screecher, being blind, uses infrasounds as an echolocation means, in opposition to other geni of bats, who use ultrasounds exclusively. Infrasounds are far more effective in enclosed or angular spaces such as cities or underground complexes.
Stun blast : by "screaming" (emitting a very focused infrasound blast), Screecher can stun or even knock out a target as infrasounds can shake the inner ear of most living beings. It works most efficiently on his usual prey, small rodents and large insects, but its effects on humans and similar beings is not to be neglected either.
Maw : Screecher's maw is filled with two rows of barbed needle teeth in the front, allowing him to suck dry his prey while guaranteeing a good grip. In the back of his mouth is located a retractable tongue-dart that can snatch insects at about one and a half yard from him, or sting a larger target to inject them with a muscle-weakening toxin.
Tail : Screecher's tail is in essence a combination between a whip and a harpoon, mostly a defence tool allowing him to inflict grievous pain but not significant damage (except in case of a lucky hit) to escape while the opponent is reacting to the pain, though Screecher has also been noted by Nicholas to use his tail as a fishing line to snatch fishes out of ponds.
Lifespan : due to being over eighty years old, Screecher has been surmised to be effectively ageless, though signs of aging have been seen at regular intervals, only to fade later on. As such, Patriot's current theory is that Screecher goes through a regeneration process every couple years that is not too dissimilar to that of some geni of jellyfish. He also noted that according to this fact the species could be renamed "Hellphoenix bat".
Physical ability : Screecher can lift up to twelve pounds, effectively shy of twenty-seven times his own weight. Transposed to human levels, this is the equivalent of lifting four thousand pounds.
Appearance :
History : Screecher was a one-off side project from the Consortium member Sonar (who was coincidentally the expert on sound systems and bats), a pair of a brand new genus of bats that would use infrasounds instead of ultrasounds and that would serve as guides for people to avoid getting lost in the complex or in the vast network of tunnels and sewers beneath LA. Eventually, after the dwindling of the Consortium, the complex had become Screecher's hunting grounds while Carrion sometimes commanded them to go outside to serve as aerial spies, until the female of the couple was shot by a villain during a scuffle with a hero. Since then, only the male is active, as the female has been placed in suspended animation to keep her alive while Patriot works on a way to operate her to remove the bullet without killing her, and it is a common sight in the complex to witness Screecher bringing back dead mice or insects to the lab where his mate is being held, even though there is no way for her to eat them.
Senses : Sting has excellent eyesight, and effectively has both low-light and darkvision on top of normal sight, and is capable of seeing through sudden changes in luminosity. Sting also has a very acute sense of smell, and an ability to perceive magnetic fields. Sting's eyes are faceted with shifting polygons, allowing him to zoom in and out while maintaining a 310° field of vision.
Anatomy : Sting's body is made of roughly three parts. The first is the outer shell, which is an all-around balanced protection, though weaker than specialized armors like the Hellhound's. It is however entirely immune to vibration-based attacks as well as fire and heat-based attacks. The second is a layer of mineral oil (essentially a mix of mineral dust and non-flammable liquids) that Sting can control to an extent thanks to an internal organ allowing him to manipulate magnetic fields in a close range around his body (15-20 meters). The third part is made of the inner skin and the internal organs beneath, which are as sensible as can be expected.
Stings : At the end of Sting's abdomen are three tendrils coated in oil ended with a barbed sting made of the same material as his shell. Those stings work in the same manner as a scorpion's, but can also be used as grappling hooks or ropes to move around as they are able to extend to up to 20 meters. They do not contain organic poison of any kind, but are usually coated in toxic oil so the wounds they cause can prove quite dangerous if left unchecked.
Legs : Sting's six legs are extremely mobile, able to rotate in almost any direction. The black phalanxes at the tips do not have nerve endings and can be expelled at bullet speeds (but then take time to regrow, usually a couple days) and contain a toxin that is particularly painful but otherwise not life-threatening.
Upper arms : Sting's upper arms are the longest and the strongest, and have special hands that can harden to turn the whole arm into a spear capable of piercing steel. The hardening process is irreversible, and once the hand has been hardened, it must be cut off to allow another one to regrow. As such, those wrists contain a specific biomechanism that allows the hands to be expelled like large-caliber piercing rounds.
Dexterity : all six of Sting's hands have human-level dexterity, allowing him to manipulate and use human-suited weaponry. He usually carries an assault rifle or a flamethrower, though he can also use a sniper rifle with great accuracy, and is trained to use said weapons.
Sentience : Sting has basic sentience, to the level of a human child, and can obey orders and follow his instincts to come up with what he considers to be the best plans. He is however incapable of truly complex thought or abstract consideration, and does not have morality. Sting's main role is to serve as a line of defence for the complex, and usually does not leave it.
Maw : Sting's teeth are about as hard and strong as human teeth, but the configuration of his jaw makes them well-suited to pierce through vital spots as a finishing blow. Otherwise, Sting has in his mouth a long chameleon-like tongue ended in three buds that can generate a "psychic EMP" when they come in contact with a living being. Nicholas surmises that Sting's tongue buds are bundles of nerve endings that nature made into psychic emitters due to Sting's intended role as a defender, giving him a subdual tool.
Physical ability : Super speed 3, Super strength 3, Invulnerability 3
Weakness to cold : being struck by cold-based attacks will cause Sting's oil layer to cool and possibly freeze, which would effectively paralyze him.
Appearance :
History : Sting was designed with the role of a mobile defense turret in mind, and as such he was made into a war machine by the various members of the Consortium who worked on him. Due to the environment, Sting's main opponents have been rogue creatures and lurking monsters, which has shaped a good chunk of his mentality. To be as effective as possible in his duties, due to him needing to make basic tactical decisions Sting has been gifted with a brain complex enough to develop basic human sentience. This has been preserved upon assimilation, and while Sting is not replicable, he remains an extremely valuable asset for the Carrion.
Nicholas Umberschalk aka Patriot
Secret identity : Forgotten Name : Nicholas Umberschalk Alias(es) : Patriot Class : Was C class, now removed from the registry due to disappearing Function : Fighter/Crafter Type : General Weapons Expert, Other Ability classification : Cyborg, Psychic (Self-applied thought enhancement), Super intelligence (Expertise in biomechanics, genetics and system optimization, expert tactician). Patriot was assimilated while alive, and even though most of his tissue decayed, his brain is preserved and kept secure in his skull, sealed in an armored bio-bubble. Nowadays, most of his body is either entirely robotic or at least partly cyborg, which does not attenuate his abilities in the slightest. Gear :
Sensors : Patriot's armor is arrayed with a great number of sensors of all kinds, allowing him to perceive almost anything in the physical domain, as well as major psychic phenomena.
Eyebeams : in Patriot's left eye socket is embedded an energy crystal, that is protected and contained by heavy plating with lens holes. Through those lenses, Patriot can fire scorching beams of energy with pinpoint accuracy and control, or open the plating to release a much stronger blast. The lenses can be orientated around to increase their arc of fire, although they are limited by their mechanisms so as to not damage Patriot.
Patriot Sound Module : on the temple of Patriot's skull is located a strengthened bass sound module that can release a powerful sonic blast in a wide area. This is the sonic equivalent of a fragmentation grenade, albeit more concentrated and with shorter blast radius.
Upper arms : the upper arms of Patriot's armor can elongate themselves at the forearms, and both one radial blade hidden in the forearm as well. The upper shoulderballs, as they are pointed backwards, contain a RCS system to help with balance and quick motions.
Lower arms : the left lower arm can be elongated as well, but does not contain any specific armament. The right lower arm cannot be elongated as it contains the batteries for its hand systems. The lower shoulderballs, as they point forward, contain a small taser (the red dots), but can also open to throw small explosive pellets. Those pellets are very noisy, smoky and displace a lot of air when they detonate, having high disruptivity at the cost of destructivity. They make very small holes. However, if they charged in electricity before being thrown, they become much more destructive, but also much less disruptive. They electrized explosives make large holes and release a non-vibrating blast of air when exploding, which means that the explosion is almost muted.
Red hand : Patriot's lower right hand can create and throw spheres of heat or electricity (or both), or emit strong waves of either by slamming against a surface.
Rib Hook : over Patriot's heart emplacement is located a manually-triggered grappling hook that he can use to move around tridimensionnally.
Jetpack : the back of Patriot's armor contains a flight system that can make him hover or fly around at moderate speeds, though not for very long.
Rifle : Patriot's rifle fires rounds made of crystallized artificial Hellhound goo. Those rounds work similarly to depleted uranium ammunition, having strong piercing power but no actual corrosion or radioactivity effect. However, Patriot's round are slightly unstable, allowing them to release a small burst of energy on impact.
Appearance :
History : Nicholas Umberschalk was born in 1948, and became a Harvard student during the Cold War, forming with other students a research and development club that they dubbed "the Consortium". After their graduation, the Consortium migrated to LA, and, childish as they were, explored beneath the city to find a location for their lair of mad scientists, and established an immense R&D complex in a pit deep down below. For the first decade, the thirty-ish members of the Consortium were hopeful and idealistic, bristling with creativity and thousands of projects, and all went well. Then as years passed, some started to leave. Either due to disinterest, disillusion, lack of funds, animosity with other people... The Consortium dwindled between 1970 and 1989, with only Nicholas and his wife Elise remaining, working on the one project they had started together. Project Anima, a moonshot project dedicated to the creation of a perfect lifeform, an idea they knew would never be completed but they worked on anyway, for it gave them purpose. And then Elise passed away from disease and Nicholas was left alone. To honor his wife and the research they had worked on so hard together, he immersed himself in work, swearing to not know rest until Project Anima was completed, his a maddened drive but oh so powerful... In 1997, even though he knew that he had no much longer to live, he made a breakthrough; he had created an endlessly mutable agenetic creature. A being that could adapt to any host. Lesser minds would have called it here, said that he had finally created a perfect lifeform, but Nicholas felt that it wasn't enough, that he could go further. He first tested the Carrion's abilities using small rodents and robots created by the Consortium, then as decay was claiming him, on himself. And the intense, purpose-driven mind of Nicholas met the immense but purposeless mind that was the Carrion's, and purpose was given. More than ever, Nicholas' goal was imprinted in himself as an absolute truth. Succeed or die trying, and now he could make himself immortal by using the Carrion's unique biology, so as long as he got time, success would come in the end. Since then and from now on, the Carrion was marked by Nicholas' all-devouring drive, and every action it takes, every move it makes furthers the research of Project Anima.
Cooperativeness Scale : (*^(*!&2#(???!!!*((*)(*!@*(#!(&*()??Q!)%U(!)Q?! Common Gear : Appearance :
Behavior and Ranking Raw Power ~ 45/100 Visibility ~ 30/100 Success ~ 60/100 Out of Combat Reputation ~ N/A/100 (unknown) Ranking ~ 50/100 Political Abrasiveness ~ N/A/100 Property Damage ~ 99/100 Lethality ~ 50/100 Rescue ~ N/A/100 Tenure ~ 61/100 for the Carrion, 110/100 for Nicholas
Backstory
Look at the "Patriot" tab in the Assimilated Creatures spoiler
Personal Information File
Secret Identity: Public
Name: Jade Callahan
Alias: Jade Callahan
Class: N/A
Function: N/A
Type: N/A
Ability Classification: Super Intelligent, Technomancy
Sex: Female
Gender: Female
Age: 25
Family Members: Harland Callahan (Father, deceased, 50), Samantha Callahan (Mother, 45, alive)
Sexual Preference: Technosexual
Significant others: N/A
Hideout: Yes
Hideout Location: Automatic Automail Assistance Allied Corp top floor
Cooperation: N/A
Common gear: A colt 1911 for self-defense
Civilian Appearance:
Costumed Appearance: N/A
Shortcoming
Jade is severely immunocompromised. Because of this, she lives her entire life on the top floor of the AAAAR building. This means it functions as a penthouse, CEO office, and a board room on occasion. The Office
Jades office features extensive security, including a panic room that boasts five foot thick tungsten walls and door, automated sentries, and simple droid guard.
Personal Information File
Secret Identity: Secret
Name: Ariah
Alias: Quasar
Class: B
Function: Jack of all Trades
Type: Everything but the kitchen sink
Ability Classification: AI
Sex: N/A
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Family Members: Mia ('sister', 5) Robert Dantif (father, 62)
Sexual Preference: Largely uninterested
Significant others: N/A
Hideout: Yes
Hideout Location: Automatic Automail Assistance Allied Corp 'Armory'
Cooperation: Infrequent
Team Size/Composition: 'Me, myself, and I'. May operate up to three 'suits' at a time.
Cooperativeness Scale: 'It's my duty to help those who can't help themselves. If you're in the same boat, we'll get along fine.'
Common Gear: Whatever loadout the 'suit' may have. Universally given an anti-EMP coating and bullet proofed.
Civilian Appearance:
Costumed Appearance: Varies
Power, AI: Ariah is linked over a private hub network maintained solely by her and Jade, a system that no one else is aware of. Through this, she is able to jack into 'suits' to pilot around as the hero 'Quasar', a super-intelligent hero who uses exo-suits to save the day. She can manage up to three suits at a time, but it becomes more difficult to function efficiently the more bodies she's commanding. Should one of the bodies be destroyed, her consciousness is safely shunted back into the network and to the closest body, or back to her real body.
Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power: 45-85/100
Visibility: 75/100
Success: 65/100
Out of combat reputation: 85/100
Ranking: 60/100
Political Abrasiveness: 55/100
Property Damage: 65/100
Lethality: 85/100
Rescue: 80/100
Tenure: 2/100
Designation; Knight
Designation;Flaggelant
Designation; Skirmisher
Designation; Stalker
Designation; Artillery
Designation; E.R
Designation; Heavy Blow
Designation; Field Marshall
Jade Callahan was born as the only daughter to Harland Callahan and Samantha Callahan, Hardlan being the founder and CEO of Automatic Automail Assistance Allied Corp. The AAAAC was dedicated to beneficial efforts and rescue efforts. This meant provided simple droids to fire fighting teams and law enforcement, designing V.I to help with management or the disabled as therapeutic services. The AAAAC specialized in droids, robotics, prosthetics, engineering, and even VI. While Harland was severely immunocrompised, he had the will and the want to help the world at large, and as such his company reflected this. It was a pioneer in it's fields, testing and continuing to improve in everything it could in order to better help the world. Harland passed away due to an infection two years ago, leaving his company in the hands of his daughter, Jade. Jade has tried her best to manage the company, continue R&D and humanitarian efforts, all while being perpetually confined to her top floor.
Ariah is the 'firstborn child' to Robert Dantif, the only known man to create a successful version of A.I. He did this not only once, but twice. Once, twenty years ago with Ariah, and five years ago with her 'sister' Mia. Ariah's body isn't as 'updated' as Mia, but this is also because Ariah cannot decide on what she wants to finally look like. Ariah, as one of the two only known A.I, lived a rather famous life. But what is a life in the spotlight if she couldn't do anything with it? She couldn't help, not really. Her body was pretty standard, she was just...her. Her father fought for her to have full rights, just like Mia, and for that she was grateful. But to watch so much suffering and turmoil go by, and she was propped up on the pedestal of fame...it honestly hurt. Not to mention her father would never allow her to do anything anyways. So she took a chance, and she reached out.
To say Jade was shocked was an understatement, but shock quickly gave way to kinship. Neither of them could directly help like they wanted too, Jade because she was so susceptible to being sick and Ariah for...other reasons. First thing was to give her an official job, and Jade honestly needed an in house assistant that wouldn't risk coughing on her, so she was hired on as an in house assistant. Then came work...they'd build a hub. As a technomancer, Jade was able to get an understanding of Ariah with her help. From there, they laid the groundwork for the system that would let Ariah access her new bodies. Then came the bodies themselves, something Jade insisted she do alone. She was genius in her field, and technomancy helped her get to work. Then came crafting of the armory, and testing of of the bodies. There were...hiccups, and the testing was extensive. But they made progress. Then they had to make a cover story...Quasar. A hero who used exosuits to save the day with secret identity status, so no one could trace her. It's now been a little over two years since this whole scheme has started. It's a bit under the table, but the goals are pure and the motivation is good.
Secret Identity: Publicly Known
Name: Orpheus Alexandros
Class:
Function: Fighter
Type: General weapons expert, swordsman.
Ability Classification: Magitek augmentations. (basically a magitek cyborg)
Sex: MAle
Gender: Male
Age: 35
Family Member(s): Son and wife
Sexual Preference: Straight
Significant Other(s): His wife.
Hideout: Yes
Hideout Location: San Diego undergorund warehouse
Cooperation: Frequent
Team Size/Composition: HE uses a team of around 30 members most non powered but ten powered. 4 being super strength, one flier (harpy). 5 mages of mid level. and 20 whos abilities are above human.
Cooperativeness Scale: "if its to take out a villian be it police or hero ill work together"
Common Gear: His common gear is a simple set of clothes with carbon fiber weaved in. Beneath his skin is many Magitek augmentations. a mixture of technology and magic. his bones are mostly metallic with magic boosting his muscles. in his knuckles are explosion magic that detonate with each punch. He also carries on him a collasible magitek sword.
Civilian Appearance:
Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power ~ 64/100
Visibility ~ 43/100 (How flashy is their power?)
Success ~ 84/100 (What percentage of the time do they win?)
Out of Combat Reputation ~ 62/100 (Are they an ass or do they donate to the kitten orphanage?)
Ranking ~ NA/100
Political Abrasiveness ~ 80/100
Property Damage ~ 97/100
Lethality ~ 78/100
Rescue ~ 50/100
Tenure ~ 16/100
Orpheus Alexandros, current head of the Alexnadros family. Known for being one of the few Honest and fair criminals. He ran the Alexandros family from the time he was only sixteen. and during that time, he kept to a strict code. No civilians involved. No mattter what, he loved his city. He loved the citizens. The black market and extortion of other gangs and criminals was fine. BUt as he grew up. More and more villians only saw fit for wanton destruction and greed. No honor or system. He couldnt stand it. And from that he left the crime business and turned the family into Alexandros public security. An orginization that assists heroes and police in subduing criminals. The city is a big place, cops cantcover everything. Heroes cant be everywhere at once. Neither canhe. But an organized trained sqaud designed for quick takedown and subduing. IS much more effective. Police should maintainpublic order. In san diego. Leave the supers to The Alexandros.
Secret Identity: Public Known
Name: Caroline Dawson
Alias: Damnation
Class: A
Function: Fighter, Crafter
Type: Sniper, Run n Gun, Gunslinger
Ability Classification: Major fire manipulation (snap), Phoenix Anatomy, Flyer natural, Weapon manifestation
Sex: Female
Gender: Female
Age: 191
Family Members: Miles Dawson (deceased), Rose Dawson (Mother, alive, Phoenix)
Sexual Preference: Ain't Interested
Significant Others: N/A
Hideout: No
Hideout Location: N/A
Cooperation: Infrequent
Team Size/Composition: "Me, myself, and I"
Cooperativeness Scale: "If you really have to tag along, just don't slow us down and keep your head low."
Common gear: Her fathers' hat, knife, and locket, standard attire, a pack of playing cards
Civilian Appearance: Same as costumed
Costumed Appearance:
Powers
Phoenix Anatomy: Caroline has a mild regenerative factor due to her mothers genes. She can temporarily morph into the form of a phoenix, or simply sprout wings from her back. She is able to manipulate and create fire with relative ease, as well as heal from a fire that is not her own. This includes 'fire' sources such as magma and lava. Because of her anatomy, if she's killed she crumbles to ash, only to be reborn from it anew after a brief time.
Weapon Creation: Caroline inherited her father's ability to manifest weapons by will, though she traditionally sticks to handguns and revolvers. The weapons, due to being manifestations of her design, do not need to be reloaded. The rounds fired act as either natural rounds of their caliber, or can be imbued with fire to make them incendiaries.
Skilled marksman: Caroline has honed her ability as a marksman and gunslinger to such a fine degree, she can preform 'trick shots', such as ricocheting a round off a surface, or being able to hit a target with her eyes closed (if she had very recent line of sight).
Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power: 65/100
Visibility: 85/100
Success: 85/100
Out of Combat reputation: 45/100
Ranking: 80/100
Political Abrasiveness: 50/100
Property damage: 85/100
Lethality: 45/100
Rescue: 88/100
Tenure: 100/100
Caroline was born in Texas way back in 1867, during the 'wild west' era of cowboys and expansion. Her mother, funnily enough, was a firebird. Dad was a lawman in her little town where she grew up. Life on the frontier wasn't easy, but it molded her into the woman she became. Her father was known as the quickest draw for miles around and boasted that no 'scum-sucking low life' was going to get the best of him. Unfortunately, boasting was a quick way to get shot as her family was unfortunate enough to find out. Eventually, someone who was just a bit quicker on the draw rode into line with the idea in mind to shoot her pop. Caroline resented the experience for most of her childhood, at least until she turned eighteen. No 'proper lady' grabbed a gun and a horse and rode off into the sunset on a vengeance quest. But caroline never did fancy herself as a 'proper lady' to begin with, and her mom wasn't one either. What followed was a bloody quest to hunt down the man who had shattered her family, while bringing some 'frontier justice' to anyone else with the same mindset on the way.
Caroline has had the 'pleasure' of seeing two world wars, indescribable suffering, and more than a dozen rebirths on both her and her mother's part. She wasn't there for the O.A attack, why would a Texan be in L.A of all places? Well, when she read about the attack, that gave her the reason to make a few frequent trips up to L.A every few years.
Secret Identity: Secret
Name: Jakub Maciejewski
Alias(es): Deus Vul, The endless Crusader, Bane of Hell, Commander Maciejewski
Class: Vigilante
Function: Fighter, Crafter
Type: Swordsman, Commander and coordinator
Ability Classification: Divine snap, Divine Ritual, Necromancy Ritual, Necromancy snap, Weapon creation
Sex: Male
Gender: Male
Age: 982
Family Members: Elżbieta Kalinowska (Late wife), Adelajda Zając (Late daughter)
Sexual Preference: NO
Significant Others: Elżbieta Kalinowska
Hideout: Yes
Hideout location: A small farm in the Polish countryside
Cooperation: Frequent
Team Size/Composition: The fallen crusaders who fight at his side
Cooperativeness Scale: "With me brothers! Deus Vult!"
Common Gear: Thrice blessed armor and blade, Spectral Horse, cloak fashioned from the hide of Lady Deriya, the demon lord of suffering and torment.
Civilian Appearance:
Costumed Appearance:
Power Explanation
Champion of Michael: Jakub is blessed by the archangel Michael. This instills him with unwavering courage no matter the foe and a combat prowess beyond that of a mortal man. As the champion of Michael, Jakub is also biologically immortal, and no disease nor illness shall fell him. Jakubs body can move past serious injury, even if it is to the ill effect of his body. The champion shall not falter until he draws his final breath. Thrice blessed armor: Jakub's armor is thrice blessed each by five cardinals, granting it benefits beyond mundane armor. Lesser blades are turned by the armor, bullets bounce or hit like water drops upon a wall. It emits a fine-tuned field that weakens all but the strongest of spells cast against him, without dampening his own abilities. Jakubs blade is likewise blessed and can cleave through even the strongest of armor and demon hide. The blade, having been bathed in the blood of too many demons to count, can touch even the incorporeal. Loyalty in death: The crusader army that followed Jakub has absolute loyalty him, even from beyond the grave. Jakub can call upon up to ten crusaders at a time to fight with him. If he spent several days channeling a ritual, he could bring forth the entire force. This extends to the mounts of these crusaders. Weapon Manifestation: Jakub can utilize the blessing of Michael to create weapons other than his sword. The smaller the weapon, the less time he has to spend trying to create it. He cannot create ranged equipment (outside of a longbow or a crossbow). The general rule is 'would it have been in the hands of a crusader?' If yes, then he can craft it. Charm Immunity: As the champion of michael, the effects of charm and seduce effects are moot. He is unwavering in his duty, no woman or demon shall sway him.
Natural Abilities
Iron Fisted Commander: Jakub tolerated no dissent nor heresy among his men. He demanded excellence, loyalty, and faith. If one was found lacking in one of these fields, they would have been beaten into shape, or turned into an example. Despite this, Jakub was a man of his soldiers and held their respect for he likewise respected them. Jakub has no difficulty taking control of a battlefield and rallying a force behind him. Excellent Swordsman: Even without Michaels' blessing, the crusader is a powerful swordsman through years of ceaseless use. Multilingual: Jakob is fluent in English, German, Russian, and Polish
Behavior and ranking
Raw Power: 85/100
Visibility: 45/100
Success: 95/100
Out of combat reputation: 35/100
Ranking: N/A
Political Abrasiveness: 35/100
Property Damage: 25-85/100
Lethality: 10/100
Rescue: 40/100
Tenure: 100/100
Jakub Maciejewski was born in the nation of Poland in 1076 in a devoutly religious household (Which was honestly the norm at the time). Being raised by a father who accepted nothing short of perfection and a mother who lived closely to the faith she may have been a nun molded the young boy into a man of faith, determination, and power. Becoming a man of the blade, at the age of 21 the First Crusade was invoked when the pope called upon all men of faith and able body to take back the holy land. Jakub did not shirk his duties and quickly embarked to war. As the war raged on, Jakub made himself known as a soldier who had no equal in pious nature nor one with blade. Jakub climbed the ladder of hierarchy until he became a Commander at the tail end of the crusade. In the final months of the war, Michael himself called upon Jakub as his champion, and it was a title that the crusader took in stride. As a Commander, Jakub suffered no fool or heresy. There were many abhorrent acts performed in the crusade, this was the truth of war. But Jakub refused to participate in such things and threatened his men under penalty of beating or death that she shall not join in such horrors. They would not become men touched by temptation and the devil, the were men of God, not savages. This iron-fisted rule like nature resulted in him butting heads with other crusaders from other groups and nations quite frequently.
Came and went the second crusade with its minor victories. And came and went the others with their losses. And each time the call for a crusade was sounded, Jakub returned to his duties, unflinching and stoic. But with so many losses, so many failures, the man slowly became disillusioned. Surely they were hacking at the branches of darkness, they had to strike at the roots. Only then would they claim victory. As the final crusade came to an end, Jakub sought audience with his holiness, beseeching him for the rights to crusade into the darkest pits themselves to end to darkness and cut out the roots from which heresy stems. For one reason or another, his request was granted. Jakub put out a call for every man of faith who knew him or were loyal to the bitter end to join him. In total he gathered an army of five thousand loyal men and one thousand horsemen...and they all marched into the gates of hell.
What followed was a bloody trail that was carved in a swath through Hell, the 'Final Crusade' as it were. For every man who fell from his army, even more hellspawn was slain. Eventually, only Jakub remained of his army, and yet he would not be deterred. He would cleanse the pits of hell of every last demon spawn, or he would die first. There was no compromise. Jakub killed every opponent he came across, including a demon lord which he subsequently skinned and used the hide as a cloak. Eventually, the most powerful magus of demonkind agreed to set aside their squabbling and scheming to remove this one man who threatened so much. They cast a great spell, banishing him from their plane of existence for what they hoped would be permanent. Jakub was shunted back to earth in his home of Poland...on the first of September 1939. He knew where he was, and he was in the center of a battlefield. Men of his home fell and died around him, and an invading force came to occupy it. He would not give his home up so easily. Though he fought stoically and fiercely, as history will tell, Poland fell.
Throughout the second world war, there were fables and ghost stories among the forces in exile of Poland, of a man in knight armor who arrived in darkest moments to lend his aid with deathly spirits, only to disappear once the war was done. Since then, Jakub has traveled the world in order to finds a means to overcome the banishment that has shunted him from his crusade, though no magus can undo it thus far. In the meantime, he shall put every heretic and savage to the blade wherever he may go.
Secret Identity: Unknown
Name: James Alistair Giotto
Alias(es): Rising Light/
Class: Apprentice (needs a mentor)
Function: Healer, Recovery/Rescue, Investigator, Assassin, Stealth - anything that I can get taught to do, really. Please mentor me!
Type: Varied, mostly melee
Ability Classification: Light Mage
Sex: Male
Gender: Male
Age: 15?
Family Member(s): Mom, Dad, and 4 big sisters.
Sexual Preference: Pansexual
Significant Other(s): No
Hideout: No
Cooperation: Frequent
Cooperativeness Scale: 10/10
Common Gear:
Civilian Appearance: (Images are from the Child of Light Manga. Very pretty art, story somewhat lacking.)
(Rankings are incomplete due to being so new.)
Raw Power ~ ---/100
Visibility ~ 100/100 (How flashy is their power?)
Success ~ ---/100 (What percentage of the time do they win?)
Out of Combat Reputation ~ ---/100 (Are they an ass or do they donate to the kitten orphanage?)
Ranking ~ 020/100 (Each Rank Intern to S Class is worth 20 points.)
Political Abrasiveness ~ 095/100 (How disagreeable are their opinions and how abrasively do they voice their opinions? Higher is less abrasive.)
Property Damage ~ 100/100
Lethality ~ 100/100 (What percent of the time do they NOT kill people? Higher is better.)
Rescue ~ 100/100
Tenure ~ 000/100
"I kind of died like a year ago so... things are a little weird for me right now. Apparently the Occard Alliance bad guys resurrected me?? But uh... I feel fine. I'm worried. My friend Fay would probably do more damage than them just to get me back if they kidnapped me or something. Heh. So uh... yeah! Right. I'm supposed to let you know a bit about me."
"Well I'm still a kid, but I'm a light mage, which is kinda rare I guess. I'm in advanced classes with Fay... or... was, anyway. My sisters are gonna freak out... ugh... But uh... yeah! I'm... kinda shy, but I'm not incapable of interactions. I tend to think I'm a nice guy. I'm just kinda average, I suppose. I don't know what to talk about. Oh! I can talk about my home a little. It's always been a full house. I'm the youngest by a lot, and I'm also the only boy. My sisters and my parents are really protective. They're all busybodies. I guess I am too, to be fair. We're a mage family. My mom and dad are both merlin-rank mages, though they tend to do domestic work only. Two of my sisters are trying to work their way up the council ranks, one is studying magizoology, and then one is studying forbidden or taboo magics. Lots of cool stuff happens when everyone gets together because of all that... heh. I'm boring compared to all of them."
"Anyway, it was nice to meet you! I hope I didn't take up too much of your time."
Personal Information File
Secret Identity: Unknown
Name: Experiment Aeolu
Alias(es): Roxy Wells
Function: Stealth, assassin, and fighter.
Type: Run n Gun, sniper
Ability Classification: Element Manipulator [Rare]: Gass Embodiment, Flight, Gas Sense, Sound Manipulation, Elemental Intangibility, Aerokinetic Constructs, Minor Plasma Manipulation.
Threat Level: Four
Sex: Female
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Family Member(s): Experiment Hephaestus, Experiment Poseidon, Experiment Gaea, Experiment Zeus, Experiment Apollo, and Experiment Erebus
Sexual Preference: Homosexual
Significant Other(s): None/Open
Hideout: Yes
Hideout Location: She lives in the local homeless shelter. She moves every so often because, despite her family still caring about her, they will follow Dr. Midron's orders. He wants to either capture her or kill her.
Cooperation: Common
Team Size/Composition: Project Olympus, though she no longer associates with them.
Cooperativeness Scale: She loves to help people out.
Common Gear: She doesn't have much from her days with Project Olympus. Right now she only has a black suit made out of her own hair. She has a white cane, a backpack filled with a few snacks, and some generic supplies.
Civilian Appearance:
Costumed Appearance:
Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power ~ 100/100
Visibility ~ 15-80/100 She mostly tries to keep a low profile when using her power, but when push comes to shove there is no way to hide a tornado.
Success ~ 87/100
Out of Combat Reputation ~ 50/100 It's kind of split. Some people think she is an evil monster while others think she is someone fighting for justice.
Political Abrasiveness ~ 000/100
Property Damage ~ 65/100
Lethality ~ 87/100
Rescue ~ 81/100
Tenure ~ 13/100
Powers Explained:
-Gas Embodiment: She is the physical manifestation of the gaseous state, being such allows her to manipulate, generate, and become any form of gas.
-Flight: As one would expect from controlling gas, she can fly along with others she wishes.
-Sound Manipulation: She has such a finite control over this element that she can control the vibrations that travel through it, allowing her to manipulate sound completely.
-Aerokinetic Constructs: She can go as far as to stop the gas altogether, making physical objects by holding the gas together.
-Minor Plasma Manipulation: A recently discovered use for her power; with a lot of concentration and an enormous amount of energy she can turn her gas into plasma. Due to the amount of energy it takes to maintain, if she does it for too long she will pass out. With practice, she may be able to learn how to use it more sustainably, but for now, this is the best she can do.
-Elemental Intangibility: Being able to turn into gas gives her a form of elemental intangibility. While she is able to consciously change into a gas, whenever her skin is penetrated her body will automatically turn into whatever gas is around her. Although, she will feel the full amount of pain, as well as it takes quite a bit of energy to return to a physical form in this manner. Her body does not do this with blunt force trauma, nor any form of burn or frostbite. This is displayed when she lost her eyesight because of a surprise chemical attack. While in her gas form she still retains a humanoid form, if anyone were to be able to see the gas she is. While in this form her body is susceptible to being captured in containers. If this happens she feels the pain equal to having that part of her body removed. If separated, that portion of her body will remain in the gaseous form even if she changes back until it reunites with her body. She is unable to control or gain any sensory information from her limbs separate from her body in this manner. The gaseous body parts will automatically attempt to return to her body but only in a straight line. It would not have the intelligence to attempt to find an exit that it could go through. While separated in this manner she knows the general direction that that body part is located in.
-Gas Sense: Despite being blind she makes up for it with her control over the gaseous element. She is able to feel the gas enveloping everything. Feeling how the gas interacts with objects allows her to effectively see.
Dr. Midron was deep underground in a secure facility genetically creating their very own super soldier powered people. This was a highly classified mission that needed to stay under wraps. If this ever got out there could be dire consequences to pay for this human experimentation. This was the start of what would become known as Project Olympus. They were raised to obey orders without question, do not hesitate, and make no mistakes. Failure was not an option for them. Even the smallest screw up was punished harshly. They weren't beaten, at least not by the guardians. They were just worked even harder, past the point of exhaustion; not only the one who failed but the whole team. This led to them fixing the problem very quickly, all on their own. They had no freedom. Their exposure to the outside world was nonexistent. They could not get on the internet. They could not watch TV. They could not even go outside. The only videos they were given were training videos and recordings of them to show what they did wrong. The only luxury they were given was reading and studying, be it heavily propagandized to express that too much freedom can only bring disaster. All of this cultivated into the mindless super-soldiers that they wanted so desperately. Well as much as one could be. They were still human after all.
The first was born displayed to be embodying the element of fire and was given the title of Hephaestus. Being the first, the most pressure was placed on his shoulders, and he carried it with pride. Though that's not to say that the pressure didn't get to him. He was quick to lose his temper, but he never let his personal feelings affect his work. He knew the consequences of doing such.
The second was born Experiment Apollo. She was gifted with the embodiment of light. She was the calmer of the bunch, always trying to keep the peace and make sure no one kills another.
The third was born Experiment Erebus. He was gifted with the embodiment of darkness. He was the most carefree of the group, seeing the bright side in even the darkest of situations.
The fourth was born Experiment Poseidon. She was gifted with the embodiment of water. She was the kindest of the group, always helping. She didn't like anyone to ever get hurt. She couldn't handle conflict well and shut down whenever anyone yelled, regardless of if it was directed at her or not.
The fifth was born Experiment Zeus. He was gifted with the embodiment of electricity. He was the smartest of the group. They all saw him as their leader. Despite refusing to actually acknowledge him, even Hephaestus would listen to him in the heat of battle.
The sixth was born Experiment Gaea. She was gifted with the embodiment of the earth. She was stubborn and only liked to do things her way. She butted heads with Zeus a lot.
The last born Experiment Aeolu. She was gifted with the embodiment of gas. She was the rebellious one, as well as the failure of the group. It seemed that despite her best efforts she always fell short. After her, they never received another teammate. It’s not known why, but many speculate that it was due to the failures of their youngest member.
Each one of them was trained to specialize in what they were best at. Experiment Hephaestus was trained to be an explosives expert. Experiment Apollo was trained in search and rescue. Experiment Erebus was trained to be an assassin. Experiment Poseidon was trained to be a healer. Experiment Zeus was trained to be a coordinator. Experiment Gaea was trained to be a front line fighter. Experiment Aeolu was trained to be a spy.
Being the only people around they bonded with each other. They were trained to be a team and work in sync, to make up for each other's weaknesses and cover each other's back. They were taught to use hand to hand combat, firearms, military vehicles, how to torture people, even going as far as having them torture and kill live prisoners. All so that they would not hesitate to end a life if asked to. After years and years of training and hundreds of thousands of simulations, they were allowed to go on their first mission. From there on they were trusted to leave unsupervised when they were on missions. Like loyal dogs, they returned to their master with the ball he told them to fetch.
This went on for a while until this one fateful mission, They are human and do make mistakes. They were sent in to break up some rebel groups. They were not told who they were or why they were being taken down. The only thing that they were told is the location, what intel they had on there fighting power, and that they all needed to be exterminated. It was a simple takedown, nothing they had not done many times before. They had about 100 people and none of them even had any powers with them, which made it far too easy to take them out.
Aeolu didn't know why they were sending the whole team on this mission. One of them was more than capable of taking down the whole rebel group. As normal, they sent Aeolu in ahead of everyone to scout out everything and report back so that the team could plan their course of action. She started out well enough doing her job and just watching them in her gaseous form. But she was too cocky. She thought that she could finally prove herself by taking them out all on her own. As the old saying goes, pride comes before the fall. She went into her solid-state and started the slaughter. But she wasn't paying attention to everyone in the room. While she was distracted, a scared man threw a vial of acid at her. It splattered her in the face, getting into her eyes. This wouldn't have happened if she had her team, this wouldn't have happened if she was paying more attention, this wouldn't have happened if she hadn’t underestimated her enemy. She thought that she was a god among men here, that there was nothing these puny humans could do against her. But she was now helplessly clutching her face. She had to swallow her pride and hit her comm to call in her team to save her. They got her out of there, making short work of the remaining rebels.
Thanks to the efforts of Poseidon, she was able to fix much of the damage done by the acid, but her eyesight was never restored and she was left with mild scarring around her eyes. They reported her transgressions to Dr. Midron who punished everyone harshly. It took Aeolu years to recover from this, eventually learning to see through the extension of gas, and even longer before she was trusted to go on another mission. Even then, it was only because of the request of her family that she was given this chance again. She was excited that she could finally prove herself again and be part of her family. Ever since her screw up, she wasn't even allowed to be in the same room as them unless they were training, but that was all going to change soon.
After Aeolu went blind her hearing increased. Her control over sound helped immensely in this process. It became so good that when Dr. Midron had a call about one of their missions she was able to overhear the conversation. Wanting as much information as she could get to be prepared this time, she listened in, assuming that all this information will be relayed to the team later. She just wanted extra time to let it soak in. She overheard about their recent success in their past mission and how this should be the turning point, that they are so close to obtaining their oil. She was confused because she was never told anything about oil. She was only ever told that they were attacking terrorists. In a flash of fury, she confronted him. She demanded that he explain himself. Why was he talking about their missions being over an oil dispute? He tried to deny it, but she wasn't having any of it. She told him that she heard the whole conversation. He was cornered. Instead of trying to talk it out, he took a more authoritarian approach. He started to yell at her, demanding what she was doing listening to a highly classified conversation. For the first time in her life she did not back down. She needed to know the truth. Her anger was getting out of control. The gas in the room started to whirl around, slamming Dr. Midron into the wall and holding him there. She was having a crisis of faith; everything that she knew as true was being ripped away. She was by no means thinking logically. She told him that he could either die or tell her the truth. He caved and admitted to everything. She dropped him and rushed off. She needed to tell her family about this immediately.
Aeolu was inconsolable. It took nearly ten minutes of her crying before she could even start talking. She told them what she knew, that all the people that they killed, tortured, kidnapped, they weren't terrorists. They were native soldiers, killed for protecting their oil. It didn't seem to faze her family the same way it did her. So she repeated herself, expecting some of the same outrage that she felt but none came. They told her that they didn't see it as a big deal, that if Dr. Midron thought it was important then it was important. They said that they were told what they needed to know and asking any more questions would only compromise the mission. She told them that she was going to leave and that she wanted them to come with her. They refused, saying that this was their home and they had work to do. Although they told her that they were not going to try to stop her. But Dr. Midron had time to activate the shutdown protocol. The door locked and the room became airtight so that Aeolu could not escape. He started barking out orders. The speaker started to short out, along with the door, which unlocked. Zeus smiled at her and gave her a hug, followed by everyone else. Erebus told her that no one was going to bother her on her way out, and true to his word everyone was held in place while she escaped. She knew she was going to miss her family but that she couldn’t stay and support this madness.
Aeolu had been outside before, but this time it was different. She was free. And still angry and confused about what was true and what was a lie. The only thing she knew was that she had to make up for the sins she had committed. She thought that she could join the police or even become a hero, maybe make a difference. That is until she saw a group of peaceful protests being agitated by the police. Out of nowhere, the police opened fire with rubber bullets and tear gas. She saw them being carried away in cuffs, people who were just watching on the sidelines, walking down the street. It was insanity. They were treating random civilians like criminals. She saw people being killed in their homes and the murderers getting away scot-free, all because of their badge. People being shoved into for-profit prisons that pay the government to make sure they always have enough prisoners for their free labor. She saw people being evicted from their homes because they chose to pay for insulin. She saw people getting kicked out because the landlord jacked up the rent in the slum that they ran. She saw cities construct spikes, even on trees, distort benches, and slant every surface for the sole purpose of keeping away the homeless. She saw homeless shelters struggle to stay open without the government funding they used to have. Above it all, she saw the rich watching and laughing, paying the government to make sure that nothing ever changed. It made her sick to her stomach.
Aeolu learned that people have been fighting for change for as long as this country has existed. In the 284 years that they had to fix these problems, they had done the bare minimum. They tried to sweep the rest under a rug and pretend that it didn't exist. It became clear that they were never going to truly change, that if the change was going to happen, it needed to be taken by force, that for any good to come from this wretched country all the corruption needed to be culled. Reform wasn't an option. It has been tried and failed many, many times. It was too late to fix it. Everything that was written was rotten to the core. The only option was to rip it asunder and start over. But she wasn't a fool. She knew she couldn't destroy the US government by herself. She needed to bide her time until she could get enough allies. In the meantime, she was going to undermine it as much as she possibly could. If that meant that she was going to have to steal, kill, be labeled a terrorist and fight against the people she spent her whole life serving, well then so be it.
Secret Identity: Publicly Known
Name: Rose Dawson
Alias(es): Firebird, Firebitch, Pecker, Spark of Flame, I've been called lots of things, but I prefer to just be called Rose.
Class: C, because she wanted a license but underplayed on purpose.
Function: Lots!
Type: Lots and lots! I do what I want~
Ability Classification: Phoenix
Sex: Female
Gender: Female
Age: Not sure! Calendars have changed a bunch. Over 3000 though~
Family Member(s): My beautiful daughter Caroline Dawson(191)
Sexual Preference: Look. I'm thousands of years old. My preference is "alive and feisty"... fire-resistant would be nice too
Significant Other(s): None at the moment, sadly. Miles left my heart aching and no one's caught my eye seriously since
Hideout: Yes
Hideout Location: Magma Roost
Cooperation: Unusual
Cooperativeness Scale: I'm fine with trying to work with people! They just need to stop complaining if they got in my firing line!
Common Gear: Usually a gun or two.
Appearance:
Raw Power ~ 100/100
Visibility ~ 100/100
Success ~ 098/100
Out of Combat Reputation ~ 030/100
Ranking ~ 040/100
Political Abrasiveness ~ 040/100
Property Damage ~ 012/100
Lethality ~ 018/100
Rescue ~ 064/100
Tenure ~ 100/100
"I've been around for longer than your calendar, so there's way too much to talk about here, but I can give ya the gist of it. Was born and raised a phoenix. My momma was a phoenix, and so was my daddy. I fell outta contact with both of them a loooong time ago, so they're not in the picture. I wasn't raised around humans, though. I just knew they were dangerous, messy creatures that were decently smart. Well after a few hundred years I got interested in humans and started peeking in on them. Then I took a form like them and spent time around them. I fell in love with the damned things. Humans are so fascinating and fast-paced. I'm a very free sort of person, and I've loved many a human... an unfortunate side-effect of their short lifespan."
"Honestly, though, no one really's caught my eye like Miles did. He was somethin' special... different... but he went the way they all do. Humans and their short lives. I'm still sure as hell not over that loss. It sucks somethin' fierce. I try not to let it run my life, though, and I've tried to find love again."
"Anyway, lucky me I'm in the same area as my daughter, but she and I have slightly different methods of dealing with ner do wells. My methods tend to leave less standing when I'm done."
Tell me, what knowledge do you seek? Dare you sign a Faustian contract? Dare you be dragged to the depths of hell forevermore? Aha, I jest; I find such meaningless contracts quite tasteless.
Aliases: All-Knowing Crow, Archdemon of Secrets, Presider of Lies, Weakest Demon Lord
Alignment: Neutral Good
Function: Unclassified
Type: Coordinator
Ability Classification: Demonic
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Age: 23,186
Personality: Well-mannered with a sharp wit and a dry sense of humor, Raum is a surprisingly pleasant conversation partner if one were to look past the fact that they are talking to a bird. He is often compliant with requests, for as long as the other party upholds their end of the bargain. It should be noted that the 'payment' for the demon's services seems completely arbitrary, and is rather Raum's odd way of 'testing' them. Though Raum very scarcely acts with malicious intent, he will often use his abilities as a demon of lies to serve his own interests without guilt. Despite his territory and title as Demon Lord being seized by another, he shows no intent on retribution, or even regaining his lost title and land.
However, beware to those who intend to manipulate the Raven for their own nefarious gain, for your days ahead shall not be pleasant.
Family Members:Dantalion (Daughter, Deceased), Zyla (It is best if you refrain from asking...), Stolas (Elder Sister)
Significant Other: N/A
Hideout: N/A
Hideout Location: N/A
Background: Raum is among the first Demon Lords, who has existed since, as he quotes, 'time immemorial'. The name of the All-Knowing Crow is one that is widespread amongst the residents of Hell, with opinion of Raum split into two main parties. He is the weakest demon lord, the grand coward, and the greatest fraud of all demonkind, and yet at the same time, he is the archdemon of secrets, the great mediator, and he who wins wars without bloodshed.
However, around five millennia prior, Raum's territory, as well as his title of Demon Lord was seized by another Demon Lord, Belial who, with the use of a horrific weapon known as a 'Void-Essence Bomb', razed his territory to tje ground. He was subsequently forced to flee from hell, lest his body be stuffed and hung upon his own castle walls as decoration. From that day onwards, as far as demonkind knew, Raum, the Archdemon of Secrets is dead. Only a select few demons know that the Presider of Lies still yet lives, hidden away in the human world.
That being said, few residents of the human world know of Raum's existence, as he takes on the elusive form of a raven. To those who do call upon Raum, fortieth demon of Ars Goetia and Archdemon of Secrets, the raven often shares a portion of his vast library of forgotten lore, though always at a certain price, be it money or a less conventional currency (such as favors).
Note: Raum can be invoked via a summoning ritual.
Some Milennia Ago, Demon Lord Raum's Territory
The drums of war thrummed ever louder, resonating with the rhythmic marching as the forces of Flauros encroached ever closer. In the distance stood a towering castle wrought of ebon brick; Raven’s Court, stronghold of Demon Lord Raum. It was encircled not by towering walls and battlements, but ornamental fences. In the place of a drawbridge was a wide, welcoming gate crafted of obsidian, marble and platinum. Outside the castle walls was not a moat, but vast fields of delicate flowers, much too elegant for the infernal reaches of Hell. The entirety of Raven’s Court stood in mockery of strength, laughing in the face of adversaries and challengers for the Raven’s throne. The elegant, grandiose residence was designed without a single ounce of consideration for withstanding a siege in mind.
On the front balcony of the castle, peering down onto the hellscape below and afar stood two figures: a young man of black hair and amber eyes, and a slightly shorter woman in a maid's attire, bearing shining, silver hair. The sharply dressed male’s name was Oriax, the Lord’s retainer, and the woman was Lilia, a newly hired demon under the employment of the Demon of Secrets. The two watched the oncoming army, marching encroaching closer upon the castle. Oriax yawned, leaning forward onto the railing, one arm propped up against his face as he watched with a bored expression.
Lilia, on the other hand, wore a look in her eyes that, without as much as a word, fully conveyed the depths of her anxiety. They could have sent their own forces to meet the besiegers head-on. They could have let the Netherwing Dragoon regiment rain havoc before the enemy could come even remotely close to the castle. They could have sent several behemoths to trample them underfoot. Hell, the lord was also apparently in possession of an Abyss Scorpion. And yet, instead, a lone figure stood outside the castle gates; a tall man with relatively long raven hair, dressed in a sharp, formal attire utterly unbecoming of battle. He strolled forward at a leisurely pace, without a single shred of urgency in his step. A pair of black gloves, sewn of cloth of the greatest quality covered his hands. Across his face was painted an unconcerned smirk, with a glint of amusement in his eyes.
“There must be forces waiting in ambush, isn’t there? He has a plan, right?” Lilia couldn’t help but ask, a slight shudder in her voice. Her eyes glanced over to the Lord’s retainer, still nonchalant as ever, before nervously casting her gaze back over to the to-be battlefield.
“Nope.” Oriax replied. Lilia suddenly choked on her saliva upon hearing Oriax’s response. Surely, he was simply messing with her, right? “You’re looking at me like I have something on my face. I wasn’t joking when I said no, alright?” Oriax reaffirmed Lilia of his answer, eyes still glued on the empty battlefield.
“He… He’s seriously going to take on an entire legion alone? Forgive my rudeness, but I thought the Lord was unsuited for combat…”
Oriax rolled his eyes as he finally looked away from the balcony and at Lord Raum’s newest hire. “Don’t need to bother with etiquette with me, you can relax. Birdbrains over there probably doesn’t give a shit about it either. Anyways, to answer your question, yes, and yes. He’s gonna solo those sorry fuckwits, and yes, he’s fucking pathetic in a fight. A newborn Impling could probably beat him in a fist fight. Now shut up and watch, it’s going to be one hell of a show. Stop interrupting me, for the love of Satan. This is going to be funny as fuck.”
After walking a considerable distance from his prized castle, Raum stopped. Letting out a long yawn, he slid his gloved hands into the cozy pockets at the side of his coat and waited there. Flauros and his four-thousand-odd soldiers halted their march, as Flauros’ men and the single demon lord had a short staring contest, with approximately three-hundred meters between the two sides.
A loud clamour of laughter erupted from Flauros’ side. The men began to roll in laughter at the ‘army’ that was supposed to oppose them. Instead their opponent was to be a single man, the idiot Lord himself, the weakest Demon Lord who’d lose a wrestling to a pigeon had come out of his nest to apparently address this himself.
“So, then. Shall we make some small talk before the carnage?” Raum called out.
“Is that all you’ve come to do? To beg for your life?” The commanding officer, Flauros shouted from the other side.
“Of course not, I would not do something as unsightly as begging for my own life. I only thought it rather pleasant to formally introduce ourselves, before we settle this matter like proper demons.”
Another wave of laughter resounded from the four-thousand odd soldiers. Flauros was rolling in laughter the hardest. “Oh, really now? Then, I am Lord Flauros, Master of Raven Court and Lord of Lies!”
Flauros’ words caused Raum to chuckle. “I’m sorry sir, but I appear to be the Lord of Lies. Quite the jester, aren’t you? I don’t dislike a tinge of humor.”
There was silence for a few moments. Flauros didn’t seem impressed by Raum’s reply, and the pathetic excuse for a Demon Lord’s grin pleased Flauros even less. “Well, some last words those were. I’ll be sure to carve them into your grave. Fire!”
Following his command was the chorus of thousands of bowstrings being drawn. Lilia winced, closing her eyes as she mourned the Lord’s folly. Four long seconds passed, and Lilia waited, eyes still closed. “Yo, you gonna open your eyes or what? The encore's about to start..” Opening her eyes at Oriax’s suggestion, Lilia soon realized that not a single arrow had yet been fired. The sky was still clear, free of the storm of arrows that should have long followed.
“What?”
Flauros seemed to share Lilia’s confusion. He looked around, irritated as he yelled. “Hey, what is going on?! I said to fire!”
He didn’t receive a single response. “I SAID FIRE, DAMN IT!” Looking around frantically, frustrated, Flauros seemed to fail in noticing the eyes of his men, glazed over in utter horror. Most of them were trembling uncontrollably, and there was even a scream somewhere in the back. A single arrow flew, its trajectory wavering as it found its mark right into the back of an ally. Another scream came from the same demon as he continued yelling something about needing to get away. The others didn’t even attempt to stop the fleeing soldier from abandoning his post.
“You see, Flauros, I don’t need to fight my battles with weapons and troops. You value strength, do you not? But is muscle really all there is to be ‘strong’? People like you seem to share a common misconception.”
Eyes finally laying upon Raum, Flauros suddenly felt his own bones and muscles tense up. There was an indescribable pressure emanating off of the man. It evoked a horrid, wrenching sensation in his chest that he couldn’t quite put into words, though it was nowhere enough to cause him to freeze up, paralyzed like the rest of his men. “Raum, coward! What sort of trick are you using?!” He yelled.
“Oh, please, there’s no need to yell. I’ll come closer.”
There was now approximately seventy meters between Raum and Flauros’ men. As that distance closed to around twenty, there was a sudden uproar.
“NO, NO, GET AWAY!”
“PLEASE, NO, DON’T COME CLOSER!”
“CURSE IT ALL, JUST RUN!”
Various, panicked shouts arose amongst Flauros’ ranks as his forces scattered in a frenzied stampede. Raum simply stood there, still uncaring. As the dust finally settled, all that was left was Raum, Flauros, and the bodies of those unfortunate enough to have been trampled. From a quick observation, many at the very front must have passed out, and some even died of just shock alone.
Flauros, however, still stood his ground. This brought a smile to Raum’s face. While it was true enough that he had been suppressing a portion of his ‘gift’, it was impressive regardless that the demon before him had enough willpower to still yet stand. “With this, you have earned yourself a duel for my throne. Shall we sign a contract?” Flauros glared down the Demon Lord, biting his lip. “Oh, my apologies. This is rather rude of me, isn’t it?”
Immediately after, a sense of relief flushed over Flauros as his body finally began to fully obey his thoughts as normal once more. “Get on with it, Raum.”
“Yes, yes, quite impatient, aren’t we? Let’s get started.”
Both Flauros and Raum held out one hand, a sigil forming on the back of their hands. “A duel, ending only upon the death or forfeit of a participant. I, Raum hereby decree: by sacred vow in name of the presider of contracts, I offer the violator’s life to the abyss. Let this vow be carved into the souls of the contractors forevermore.”
Of course, the process didn’t require any dramatic incantation of the sort, but Raum rather enjoyed the drama. Besides, it set the mood rather nicely, or at least he reckoned. “Then, let this duel begin-“
Immediately, Flauros lunged at Raum, a longsword in hand. The blade pierced right through Raum’s body, which by all means should have impaled the Demon Lord and killed him on the spot. However, not a drop of blood was spilt onto the ground, and neither was the blade coated in the Raven’s blood.
“Hmm? Can’t even strike a still target standing before you? Do you perhaps need an aid for your poor eyesight?”
“What sort of trick are you using?!”
Flauros took several more swings at Raum, who stood still, blade passing through his body. He should have been striking the Demon Lord, and yet he was swinging with no avail.
Lilia looked on from the balcony, mouth wide ajar in astonishment. Oriax was now wearing a wide grin on his face, looking as though he was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. “How is he doing that?” Lilia asked.
“Quiet, it’s getting to the best part.”
Down on the deserted battlefield, Flauros finally stopped his relentless, yet fruitless assault. Raum had stood still throughout the entire duel, and was still unharmed. “Are you satisfied?” Raum asked his opponent, voice laced with the venom of mockery. “Then, I shall take my turn,” he notified his opponent before darting toward Flauros, his right hand grasping over the demon’s face like an eagle’s talons. “It was a pleasure, Flauros.”
A horrible screeching rang from below, prompting Lilia to quickly clasp her hands over her ears, to spare herself from the terrible noise, that could not possibly come from any living being. By the time she looked back, Flauros was crumpled over the floor, eyes rolled back into his head, face painted over with an indescribable expression of pure, unmarred horror. “What in the name of the burning hells just happened?!” Lilia asked, almost in a shrill scream. Oriax turned away from the balcony, looking over to Lilia with a wide smile across his face. He held his hands out dramatically.
“Lilia, I welcome you to Raven’s Court. I hope the welcome party Lord Raum has prepared was to your liking. Unfortunately, it is time to get to work. Let’s quickly get that mess cleaned, shall we?”
Lilia stared at Oriax, face painted with unbelief. “… my what?”
Oriax snorted. “Why do you think you were hired as head maid on the spot? The last bunch all resigned out of fear, or something. Anyways, we’re looking to hire a couple more caretakers, this castle doesn’t clean itself, after all. Please do bear with the workload for a few days, we’ll bring the new hires in no time.”
Following Oriax out of the castle, the two passed by Lord Raum as they went through the front gate. As she walked past the Demon Lord, he gave a slight bow, giving the head maid a warm smile before retreating back to the castle. For a moment, Lilia too fell victim to the common rumors of the Demon Lord's supposed incompetency. “… was that really the ‘weakest’ demon lord? What was up with that trick before? You know, when he stood still and still dodged every strike?”
“The 'weak' never play fair, newbie,” Oriax replied with a smirk. “Anyways, in all fairness, it was a rather dirty trick. He laid countless illusions over one another, and, well, the mind filled in the blanks. He wasn’t actually standing anywhere near where you perceived him to be. That said, it only works on idiots. Now, if we dispose of the bodies fast enough, we’ll be back before dinner. Birdbrain’s cooking is to die for.”
Raw Power ~ 2/100
Visibility ~ 0/100
Success ~ 95/100
Out of Combat Reputation ~ 80/100
Ranking ~ 80/100
Political Abrasiveness ~ 100/100
Property Damage ~ 0/100
Lethality ~ 95/100
Rescue ~ 10/100
Demonic Eyes of Raven's Sight | "The Raven's left eye that cuts through all falsehood, and the Raven's right eye that unravels the threads of history."
Raum's ability to uncover all secrets lies within his demonic eyes; when his gaze is cast upon any object, be it animate or inanimate, Raum is granted all knowledge, history, and secrets associated with it. In the case of a living being, he is also given their memories, even the ones that were 'lost', along with their thoughts and emotions as if they had been his own. So far, Raum's demonic eyes have been shown to be capable of extracting information from even creatures outside his own perception, but his mind cannot handle such incomprehensible information. As this ability stems from his eyes, it is theoretically possible to steal this power from Raum.
Black Bird of Lies
The raven is a bird of insight and wisdom but is too an ill omen. Whilst Archdemon that presides over secrets, Raum is also a demon of lies. Just as his words can reveal ancient knowledge, so too can his words mislead. Master of truth and lie, it is almost impossible to perceive the demon's lies as anything but truth unless the subject possesses absolute, definite knowledge that the raven's words are false. On the flip side, it is also impossible to deceive Raum, as he knows well the distinct scent of truth and the sharp smell of lie.
The Ancient Fear
The ability through which Raum had maintained his position as a Demon Lord, despite his laughably low combat prowess. Seemingly some form of mental interference ability, Raum can overload a victim with an insurmountable volume of fear, that, unless the victim has extrememental fortitude or physically cannot feel fear, will almost certainly cause the victim to be paralyzed with terror, or in some cases, have full-scale mental breakdowns, and even develop deep, lasting mental trauma. In some extreme cases, victims have committed suicide as a direct result or died of shock. The intensity of this mental attack is enhanced if Raum is in physical contact with the victim.
The Mind's Trickery
An ability to conjure forth illusions, which viewers will almost certainly perceive as real, going as far as to be able to 'touch' them. As they are still incorporeal, illusions cannot actually cause physical harm. Raum tends to use this as a defensive ability.
Faustian Contract
A well-known demonic ability to sign contracts, that in most stories, more often than not leads to the ugly demise of the poor, foolish mortal who dared sign a contract with a demon. When a set of terms and conditions, and consequences should the contract be violated be accepted by both parties, Raum is able to seal a contract. Contrary to popular belief however, Raum has a distaste for signing 'inhumane' contracts (generally ones that gives ownership of one's soul to the other party, and other conditions of similar nature) and uses this ability to ensure a smooth business transaction and whatnot. The contract doesn't actually last forever. An expiry period can actually be set.
Hobbies:
Lazing around on a tree
Occasionally interfering in others' affairs
Eating bread from people who occasionally feed him. (Rosemary Baguette is his favorite so far.)
Making sandwiches
Conversing with those he deems intriguing
Quotes:
"Tell me, for what reason do you call upon a demon? Do you not fear the consequences of making a contract with those born of the Underworld?"
"I don't mind indulging you with a bit of knowledge. Don't worry, there's no fine text."
"Well, I do indeed have a humanoid form. I understand you would prefer that form, but I find it rather cramped. Being relatively small can be quite comfortable, you know?"
"Hmph. Please do not assume I trade with souls - such inhumane bargaining falls under Mephistopheles, not I. Really, some demons can be quite uncivilized."
"Countless millennia, Stolas, and it seems you still have yet to grow a single bit of brains to fill that hollow void of a head of yours."
Notes:
While Raum is capable of using his knowledge-seeking ability on even Lovecraftian entities such as Old Gods, he has shown to be incapable of storing such information without sustaining significant mental damage. This was discovered after on one occasion, Raum cast his ability on Nyarlathotep, was consequently rendered immobile as a result of seizures induced by extreme mental stress. His condition was later cured by using an extremely powerful amnestic that wiped most of the knowledge gained from this encounter.
Personal Information File
Secret Identity: Unknown
Name: Arenike Belzegia
Alias(es): Aranea
Class: Vampire, Healing.
Function: Healer
Type: Healer.
Ability Classification: Negative damage curse. A person is healed negatively proportional to the amount of damage that would incur without the curse. And all the Vampire stuff. Like mist turning into a bat, ya know.
Sex: yes
Gender: Female
Age: 6302
Family Member(s): All dead.
Sexual Preference: Bi
Significant Other(s): none
Hideout: no
Cooperation: Solo
Cooperativeness Scale: She doesnt really have a choice
Common Gear: The clothes on her and the tracksuit in her Backpack. Thats it.
Civilian Appearance:
Costumed Appearance:
Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power ~ 0/100
Visibility ~ 2/100
Success ~ 10/100 (What percentage of the time do they win?)
Out of Combat Reputation ~ 52/100
Ranking ~ 000/100
Political Abrasiveness ~ 80/100
Property Damage ~ 100/100
Lethality ~ -110/100
Rescue ~ 73/100
Tenure ~ NA/100
Arenike Belzegia. That name once struck fear throughout the countryside. Peasants would flee. Kings would tremble. Lesser vampires would bow. Her power could make the very ground itself quake in fear. But one day.... Arenike vanished .Her castle left to rot and erode away. Nobody knew what happen to her. But if they did.... They would never have written legendary books romanticizing her. For the truth was. Arenike had been cursed and feel far from grace. What was once a vampire capable of slaughtering armies. Was no unable to even kill a bunny sleeping in her own hands. The curse had removed all form of attack from her. With every strike her fists and legs healed the enemy. Every magical blast. reverted the enemy to greater conditions. She was elft unable to hunt, or even drink blood. As her fangs could not pierce the softest of living flesh. She was left scrounging and begging throughout the years. living her life in alleys Feasting upon the old blood of corpses. Scraps of bread given out of pity. By 3000 years. she had barely clung to any dignity. And now... even to this day.She clings to that last shred of pride and dignity. for without it... All that is left is a broken excuse of a vampire.
Secret Identity: Unknown Name: Viśva bhakṣaka Alias(es): V Class: unknown
Threat lvl: 3 Function: Fighter Type: Melee Ability Classification: Alien-Monstrous (Infant Celestial dragon)
Abilities:
Transformation-
Visvian is able to change her form between her human and World eater form at will though currently Visvian has forgotten about her true form, believing her "human form" is her only form.
Unquenchable hunger-
Visvian is always hungry, her physical build and what she is means she is made to be able to eat anything, from diamond, to stone, to poison her body is built to intake anything and everything as a form of energy. Due to her small size though Visvian’s ability to consume mass quantities has been greatest reduced and while she is constantly feeding and eating, her intake is actually a lot less than what it would be.
Super natural healing/durability-
Like all dragons, her physical strength is superhuman. She's strong enough to throw Cars several miles up into the air and was able to stand toe-to-toe against Most other dragons of this universe.
Visvian has the ability to generate and manipulate electricity. Unlike most dragons though Visvian has to absorb energy from her surroundings. Unfortunately due to the nature of the human world, there is little energy that she needs for her to absorb in the air, however, she soon found out that she can replenish her mana by plugging her tail into a wall socket or consuming tremendous amounts of things.
Energy direction-
Visvian as all dragons can do. Can focus the energy within her and direct it outwards in the form of powerful blasts or "breaths" of destructive power to soften up her food. though unable to call on this power yet due to her age. In addition due to her specific race of World eater Visvian's blasts are often accompanied by either ice and far below sub zero temperatures (from her fathers side) or by electricity and mass static discharges (From her mother) Sex: Female Gender: female Age: 6999 due to turn 7 in three days (6 in human years) Family Member(s): none Sexual Preference: unknown Significant Other(s): none Hideout: No Hideout Location: n/a Cooperation: TBD Team Size/Composition: tbd Cooperativeness Scale: tbd Common Gear: tbd Civilian Appearance: Costumed Appearance:
(Due to her young age Visvia's true form is only about the size of a train engine
Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power ~ 95/100 Visibility ~ 80/100 Success ~ 60/100 Out of Combat Reputation ~ TBD/100 Ranking ~ 80/100 Political Abrasiveness ~ TBD/100 Property Damage ~ 100/100 Lethality ~ 50/100 Rescue ~ TBD/100 Tenure ~ TBD/100
History:
Visvia was Born onto a planet in a parallel universe to our own as all Celestial beasts do. Birthing there young on a less habited planet to let there young feed and grow for thousands of years. Sadly for Visvia though her parents made the wrong choice in planet. Birthing her onto a planet that would hit medieval ages in a few thousand years as well as a planet teaming with magic was never the best idea. For a time she grew in peace of her childish feast and rampage. That was until her 6000th birthday. On that day the people came together, funneling every ounce of magical energy into a ritual they cast out Visvian, throwing her through space and time into our universe and ridding themselves of the endless hunger of The dragon. Little did they know it would also erase her memories, not knowing what she was or what she was meant to be Visvian drifted aimlessly through space in hibernation till she entered the gravitational field of Earth and started her decent into this new world with a clean slate.
Aliases: The Raven's Sword, The Shadow's Reach, He Who Casts No Shadow
Alignment: True Neutral
Function: Assassin
Type: Swordsman
Ability Classification: Demonic
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Age: 12,931
Personality: A cheery and carefree soul, Oriax has a happy-go-lucky attitude that tends to get him into all forms of misadventures (especially debt). He tends to be a bit too friendly with women, which borders near straight-up sexual harassment. That being said, he seems hellbent on achieving whatever goal he has in mind, though his motives aren't very clear to all but himself. He has an unbreakable, irritating smirk.
Family Members: N/A
Significant Other: N/A
Hideout: N/A
Hideout Location: N/A
Background: Retainer of the Demon Lord Raum, Oriax began as a thief and a blade-for-hire within the Demon world. Though the details of how a demon considered honorless and a low-life managed to become the General of a Demon Lord is mostly unknown, Oriax became 'the Raven's Sword', often carrying out 'cloak and dagger' missions for the Demon Lord, and often informing the Lord of (and occasionally preventing) attempts at his life.
After the territory of Lord Raum was razed and later claimed by Belial, Oriax, along with the rest of those under the employment of Lord Raum disappeared, and was presumed dead after the devastating attack on Raven's Court. In reality, Oriax along with few still loyal to the Demon Lord survived the attack on Raven's Court. Most have found refuge in other Lords' territories, and Oriax himself found himself stranded in the human world after a particular misadventure.
He has since returned to his profession prior to becoming a Demon General, carrying out assassinations for an appropriate price. Wandering the world for his own amusement, Oriax has found himself in LA after sensing some odd magic at work in the city.
Oriax's ragged breathing only worsened as he sprinted. His breath was getting shorter and shorter, his heart threatening to give out at any moment, and cease its rhythm. His legs ached with the infernal flames of Hell's depths, and yet he kept running. His back wanted to give in and snap, and his arms wanted to let go. However, he couldn’t let go. He couldn’t leave the girl on his back, even if he was at Death’s door.
He didn’t bother keeping track of how long he’d been sprinting. To even a demon who had lived for millennia, the past few minutes felt like hours. Finally, with an exasperated huff of air, Oriax gently lowered the girl, who had been fervently clinging to his back, to the ground, only moments before his knees finally gave in to exhaustion, and the demon crashed into the ground, gasping for air. “Oriax, are you alright?” The girl asked Oriax, cusping her hands nervously. Her hair was long, raven black, and a large portion of her face, from her eyes down to the middle of her nose was obscured by long sheets of white bandages. Despite lacking vision, the horrid, gasping noises emitting from Oriax was more than enough to indicate his exhaustion.
“Better than ever, Dantalion.” It seemed as though Oriax still had the energy to give a sarcastic remark. Rolling over to his back, Oriax gazed over toward the smoke billowing from the smouldering remains of Raven’s Court. “Fuck that damn Belial,” Oriax cursed between gritted teeth. “To think he’d use a void-essence bomb. I thought there was an agreement to never use those.”
“Everyone else, they're-”
“Fucking dead, dust, history, we’re getting the fuck out of here precisely because nobody was going to be alright.”
“... Then, what if father were to bargain with Lord Ipos?”
“Quit your pestering, kid, everyone is probably dead. You’re lucky somebody stole your eyes; you definitely do not want to see what happens to the unlucky bastards who get caught in the explosion. Void-essence does some nasty things to organic matter. Those that die in the explosion will never live again, not even by heaven-sent miracle - exposure to that degree of void-essence will corrode the soul to nothing.”
Dantalion went silent after that. The girl didn’t speak a single word, only nodding forlornly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, you better fucking live after all I’ve done.” Oriax snapped back. Her reserved and shy attitude was beginning to grind on his nerves. “Are you really Birdbrain’s brat? Can’t you act even a little more like the cocky piece of shit your dad is?”
“Sorry.”
Oriax rolled his eyes in irritation. “Oh for fuck’s sake, don’t apologize, can't you make a better comeback?” Sighing, Oriax sluggishly crawled back on his feet. “Let’s keep going. We’re heading for Lucifer’s territory. Belial’ll probably declare his lordship over this territory soon, and he’ll probably want your head on a stake.”
“What about father?”
“Raum and Lilia took another route, we’ll rendezvous at Lucifer’s territory, as I just said. From there, we’ll look for the next course of action.”
----------
“This is the worst-case scenario…” Oriax held his hand over his face as he sunk into his chair. His hands were trembling in visible frustration, and he was beginning to hyperventilate. “How did this even happen?” Oriax, carrying Dantalion, had arrived at Lucifer’s territory on time, as planned. For a moment, the former Demon General even believed that things would, ultimately, play out in their favor. However, Lilia had arrived, with the Lord absent. He had never anticipated the worst possible outcome. “How could he have lost to a couple of small fry?”
“They used anti-mana,” Lilia replied, in a voice so soft it was a squeak. “I’m… it was my fault…”
“GOD FUCKING DAMN IT YOU DON’T NEED TO FUCKING APOLOGIZE!” Oriax suddenly screamed, slamming his fist into a wall. The entire building shook, and Oriax was still shaking in rage as he retracted his bloodied fist. “First, we lose the Lord, and now this…”
Next to Oriax and Lilia, Dantalion was lying down on a bed, skin flushed over in a pale white, coughing and hacking violently. With each horrid cough followed a spray of pitch-black blood. “Void-essence corruption…” Lilia whispered quietly, the succubus' voice laced heavily with guilt.
“I thought I had brought her out in time, but I failed to account for the fact that Dantalion was already frail. Her resistance to void-essence corruption was probably even weaker than the average demon,” Oriax mumbled to himself. Originally, Oriax had feared his inevitable reunion with the Demon of Secrets, and explaining Dantalion’s condition, but he had avoided that confrontation. At a heavy fee. “With luck, the bird's slithered his way out of Belial's grasp by now.”
Raw Power ~ 65/100 (85/100 with Zael'teph)
Visibility ~ 5/100
Success ~ 85/100
Out of Combat Reputation ~ 65/100
Ranking ~ 80/100
Political Abrasiveness ~ 70/100
Property Damage ~ 15/100
Lethality ~ 70/100
Rescue ~ 70/100
The Shadow's Edge Oriax holds the power to umbramancy, the ability to manipulate darkness and shadow. This includes obscuring oneself in shadows or shaping the shadows into various forms, which Oriax primarily uses to create weapons when needed. His preferred weapon is a dagger. He can also blink short distances from one shadowed area to another.
Demonic Eyes of Exsanguination
Oriax can see the points of concentrated 'life' in any living creature, highlighted on their body in bright red. It allows him to easily identify vitals on a target and where to strike. Piercing the marked areas he sees almost always results in a fatal or grievous wound.
Dagger & Sword Proficiency
Gifted with the sword and dagger, Oriax can pick up almost any sword or dagger, and use it to its full capacity. Greatswords are an exception.
Hobbies:
Gambling
'Playing' with women (he spends a bit too much time at strip clubs)
Quotes:
"Well, I suppose I'm a criminal now. Ah well, I don't really care what you humans want to call me."
"Human women are pretty good looking, but I still prefer succubi. And alraunes."
"Hmm. There's like, about seventeen different ways I could kill you right now. Should I list them out for you?"
"Man, you people die waaaaay too easily. I usually need to strike more than one vital..."
Secret Identity: Unknown
Name: Dantalion
Alias(es): The Blinded Crone, The Crossroads Raven
Ability Classification: "I have Illusions and insight from my father, though not as well-honed and capable as he... and from my mother, whom I never got to know, I'm quite adept at deals. Unfortunately, nothing much useful for direct combat, so... please don't make me fight."
Sex: Female
Gender: Female
Age: 5,632 (not including time spent dead)
Family Member(s): Raum
Sexual Preference: Bi, leaning men
Significant Other(s): None
Hideout: No
Cooperativeness Scale: 8/10
Secret Identity: Unknown
Name: Scott Smith I also answer to Mister Bombastic Super Fantastic, Smithers, and 'You bastard'. If you call me Scotty, I'm shooting you.
Alias(es): Wildcard, Beloved of Death- The bread to her cheese if you will!
Class: Wait, class? Dammit, I don't have to pay tuition, do I? Mercenary
Function: I make you not alive. But only if I get paid by someone to do it. Or y'know, you're annoying. Oh oh oh! Or if you have a super cool pair of shoes that are in my size! Fighter, assassin, stealth
Type: Generally she's got black hair with purple hues and purple eyes, though the shade can vary. A little on the short side, I like to call it fun-sized! Super pale, but like...victorian pale, so it looks good on her! She's drop dead gorgeous. See what I did there? Martial artist, swordsman, general weapons expert, sniper, run and gun.
Ability Classification: True Regeneration, Deaths Blessing, Expertise in multiple forms of combat and weaponry, skilled marksman, Strength 2 (max of about 800 pounds), olympian physique, medium awareness, completely unpredictable, severe psychosis, high pain tolerance I'm just really good at killing. And very bad at the getting killed part. In-depth abilities
True Regeneration: Wildcard has a regenerative factor that is otherwise unprecedented. Capable of healing back missing limbs, re-attaching limbs, and otherwise fatal wounds with little issue. It is not immediate and takes time, though it is quicker than some other healing factors. Also noteworthy, he can regenerate from just a drop of blood...though he wouldn't survive the experience originally.
Deaths Blessing: Death and Wildcard are in a sort of...relationship. Death has effectively blessed him with immortality, allowing him to survive decapitation and complete destruction. If his head is cut off...he's probably going to keep talking while the body stumbles around looking for it.
Combat Expertise: Wildcard is a master of martial art forms, as well as swordplay and gunplay. He can also use most conventional (and some unconventional) weapons with little issue. A skilled marksman, he likes to boast that he makes William Tell look shoddy.
Physique and strength: Though the reason remains unclear, Wildcards strength is above human and stretches into limits that even bodybuilders would find impressive. Through constant work outs and training, he keeps his body at tip top shape.
Medium awareness: Through an odd combination of psychosis, true regeneration, and constant mental flux, Wildcard is completely aware that he isn't 'real'. This probably stacks ontop of his psychosis, but he doesn't seem bothered by it. Hey, if your reading this, I hope you have a wonderful day! Also, I know about summer camp.
Complete unpredictability: Due to the severity of his psychosis, even his closest allies can't readily predict his next maneuver. One second he may be shooting someone, only to find that the better tactic would be to charge them with a rubber chicken packed with plastic explosives.
High pain tolerance: Wildcard has high endurance against pain, but that's not to say he enjoys the experience. In all honesty, the constant pain he deals with from his job (and own psychotic carefree methods) results in a psychosis caused by pain itself.
Severe Psychosis: Wildcard is irreversibly and irreparably insane. Due to factors already stated, he was also witness to Death's true form, a sight that was enough to make his mind shatter like fine china. This also means that trying to read his mind or even possess him is near impossible, as there's no way to make sense of his thoughts.
Sex: I'd love too, but only if she's in the mood! Male
Gender: Well I just checked my pants, I'm a guy. Wait, lemme check again, I could be wrong. Male
Age: Somewhere around 13140 days! 36 years
Family Members: Neither of my parents showed up to my birth. I was raised by gorillas all the way out in the mountains- Matilda Smith (deceased), Arnold Smith (Deceased)
Sexual Preference: I'm legally not allowed to say it. Wait, does she qualify as dead? Straight
Significant others: Death herself! We're very happy, thank you for asking. ...Death?
Hideout: I like the motel six. It's cheap and no one ever expects the motel six! No
Hideout Location: Hang on, I'll google map where the nearest six is. N/A
Cooperation: I love friends! But only when they don't body block my bullets or try to preach about the 'right thing to do' and blah blah blah. Scratch that, they're all annoying. Solo
Cooperativeness Scale: Oh boy, good question. I haven't done advanced mathematics in a while though, I can't do this sort of question! Very low.
Common Gear: Let's see, what do I have on me. I have a katana which comes with an energy field! This raises its durability, and makes their cutting power enough to get through diamond! I also keep frags, nine bangers, kunai, like five knives of varying sizes. See this one is betty, this one is sharon-right sorry, focusing! I like to keep two desert eagles on me, and I keep these fancy silencers for them as well. Looks sort of stupid, but super effective. This one time I popped this guys grape from-right, back on topic! I also have a scar-17 with a few attachments laying around. Uhhh...I have a short-range teleportation device! Let's me pop into the middle of things with little issue! I also like to keep bola's, a stungun, an asp, a couple of syringes of horse tranquilizer, and this here Rubix cube! ...He covered it.
Civilian Appearance:
Costumed Appearance:
Raw Power: 40/100
Visibility: Varies (if you see him re-attaching his arm, its hard to miss)
Success: 90/100
Out of combat reputation: 35/100
Ranking: N/A
Political Abrasiveness: Take whatever opinion he has with a grain of salt, he's insane as can be.
Property Damage: 25-75/100
Lethality: 5-45/100
Rescue: 50/100
Tenure: 15/100
Backstory:
Scott Smith was born into a military family in Maine, his mother coast guard, and his father marines. The good ol days! Dad came home and told me 'son, stop trying to steal the neighbor's dog!' He had a relatively quite upbringing, his father the sort where he felt his son should know how to defend himself. As such he enlisted him in self-defense classes as well as taught him how to handle weapons, something he quickly became a fan of. Good ol dad's gun cabinet! I'm pretty sure half of what he kept was illegal in fifteen states...but since it was legal in Maine, who caaaaaares! Around his eighteenth birthday after graduating high school, Scott enlisted in the marines. His parents were proud of him to follow in his father's footsteps...unfortunately, things could have gone better for poor Scott. While out in the middle east, an I.E.D took out his convoy leaving him as the lone survivor. Scott was blooded, bruised, and on deaths doorstep. He eventually found shelter in a small village which helped nurse him back to health, even though he was regenerating of his own accord. It was around this time that I realized I was NOT getting paid enough for this shit. Scott eventually went AWOL, becoming rogue. He deserted his post, starting to work as an independent mercenary and globe-trotting. During one job he was asked to kill a cult that was threatening to overthrow a Korean town.
So I get to this wonderful little communist town, right? And I go into this abandoned church. A lot of hanging bodies, screams from a dungeon, warnings on the walls, you know how it goes. And then I come down to said dungeon to catch the tail end of a ritual sacrifice. And then I saw...Her. In all her beautiful glory! I was lovestruck at first sight! Wildcard was subject to witnessing a summoning of Death itself. This of course, killed all of the summoner cultists from the sheer energy exuded from the summons, and if not for his regenerative factor, he would have died. However, the damage was done, and he had witnessed something no man should ever lay eyes upon. However, instead of becoming a completely broken husk, his regenerative factor put his brain in constant limbo, leading to a psychosis that has only worsened with time. Wildcard became otherwise obsessed with Death over time, and one reason or another she admittedly returned his affection. Since then, Wildcard has acted just as his name would imply, working for the highest buyer...or when he feels like doing something and he's bored. Look out L.A, here comes Wildcard baybeeeee!
Personal Information File - The Eldest (NPCs) - WORK IN PROGRESS
Secret Identity : Unknown (people think they're just powered medics) Name : Th'arla Yad and Nha'dar (originally), [too many more to count], Taylor and Nadia Sokharyan (currently) Alias(es) : Dawn Street medics, Peacekeepers Class : N/A Function : Healers Type : Healer, Buffer/Debuffer Ability Classification :
Qliphoth : Both Taylor and Nadia are existences from the first age of Earth. They are not truly living beings, but rather sentient blobs of matter and energy. Physiologically, they appear to be made of very dense basalt from the hadean age, which grants them extreme resistance to weather and natural conditions (to the point of being able to drink lava), but the density of their energy allows them to transmute their outer layers into something more life-like, even if it retains its original properties. For example, even though they currently appear to be elves, they do not have a speck of biological tissue in their bodies. Similarly, they do not have any physiological need, be it food, sleep or reproduction, as they are sustained by the very energy of the planet. Finally, even though gorged with energy, their bodies have solidified over aeons, meaning that their original shapeshifting abilities have been greatly reduced. Nowadays they can only change their appearance to match elven- or human-like species and are unable to assume non-humanoid forms.
Anti-power : The twins are completely immune to Earth-born abilities. Magic fizzles against them (or they can walk through AoE spells unaffected), mental abilities find no entrance to their minds, telekinesis is unable to grasp them, elements thrown at them simply part against their bodies and even divine intervention would have a hard time denting them. This however does not apply to inherent abilities such as super strength (the superhuman strength would not be negated against them), nor to extra-terrestrial or extra-dimensional abilities such as foreign gods and entities. It does however apply to hell-born and heaven-born abilities. Most of the time, this only applies to their bodies and the non-physical parts of themselves, but they can also generate - with great effort - a bubble of the same effect by pushing out the boundaries of their own souls, which materializes in the form of a transparent dome lined with shining white light. Alternatively they can expand their soul in the form of a shapeless glowing white mist that has the same properties and they can control like an element.
We Are But Dust : Taylor and Nadia appear to be very uncanny to the people who meet them, even though their expressions and emotions are genuine, because there is something off about them that cannot be pinpointed. Physically, it translates by them visibly lacking a breath or a heartbeat or never blinking. Behaviorally, it translates into a perfect serenity no matter the circumstances, which can be quite unsettling or even downright frightening depending on the events; the reason behind this is simple - the sisters simply have seen it all. They have borne witness to the best and the worse of what the people of earth could do, and there is very little in this world or beyond that can ruffle their feathers. Their uncanny body language and mentality has caused the sisters to suffer a great deal as it made them targets for the hatred and violence of a lot of people ever since earth birthed intelligent life.
Mercy of the Void : Taylor can take away pain, illnesses and other ailments of any nature through touch, removing them from the affected target and carrying them over to herself. As she is not a living being nor made of living or dead matter, she is physiologically unaffected by any of the ailments she take upon herself, but she does suffer from their sensations in full. In addition, as her body cannot heal from the ailments (as it is made of stone), the pain and every other accompanying sensation is permanent.
Wail of the primal : By fueling the ailments she bears with her energy, they develop into a writhing mass of curses and plagues that she can violently expel in the form of a burst from her body (or through her extremities), which allows her to purge herself of the pain. When the curseling is expelled, it takes the form of a black roiling mass of screeching malevolence that can only go forward until it runs out of energy or is stopped, devastating anything that has the misfortune of crossing its path. As she regularly purges herself (every two weeks or so), the average strength of the curselings never exceeds levels barely beyond human level.
Visceratika : By making contact with a mineral element (like a mountain, a street, a canyon, etc), she can merge her perception with it, which allows her to become a sort of genius loci. She cannot use her abilities through the medium she is linked to, but her energy will slowly suffuse through it (over the course of days), making it develop slight anti-power, which fades once she disconnects herself.
Melancholy of the Void : By making contact with a target, Nadia can temporarily "still" one of their abilities, making it unable to be used. The ability does not degrade in any way, but is unresponsive until the stilling has faded. She cannot still more than one ability of a person at a time, and she cannot still more than three people at once. In addition, she does not know the exact nature of the abilities, only a feeling based on what she feels and what she knows about it. The duration of the stillness depends on the amount of power she puts into it; she cannot still an ability permanently.
Felicity of Emptiness : The opposite of the above ability. By "inverting" her own power, Nadia can temporarily strengthen a person's ability, with the same restrictions as Melancholy of the Void. However, "inverting" her energy is highly destructive for herself and healing from use of this power costs her a lot of time and energy.
Kraina : Nadia can feel with great accuracy the presence of ley lines under the surface of the earth as well as their nature and can draw on them to create elemental constructs that are also imbued with her anti-power energy. However, this ability puts a great strain on her diminished psyche and puts her at risk of being detected by entities that want nothing more than to see her dead.
Sex : N/A, though considered female for the sake of technicalities Gender : As close to female as genderless entities of stone and primal power can consider themselves to be Age : 4 billion years and counting Family Member(s) : Lycoris Orea ("sister", deceased), Lycoris Aspera ("sister"), Zillah ("sister"), Ynosh ("brother"), Irad ("brother") Sexual Preference : N/A Significant Other(s) : Each other Hideout : Yes Hideout Location : Dawn street mansion Cooperation : Infrequent Team Size/Composition : Each other Cooperativeness Scale : "We do not involve ourselves. Our home is a refuge for the wounded and the hunted, and it is the only thing that matters to us." Common Gear : Medical supplies Civilian Appearance : (left Taylor, right Nadia)
Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power ~ 15/100 Visibility ~ 0/100 Success ~ N/A/100 Out of Combat Reputation ~ 100/100 Ranking ~ N/A/100 Political Abrasiveness ~ 100/100 Property Damage ~ 100/100 Lethality ~ 99/100 Rescue ~ 100/100 Tenure ~ ∞ /100
Secret Identity : Unknown Name : Irad Alias(es) : Wildfather, Many-shapes, the Preserver Class : N/A Function : Jack of all trades Type : Other Ability Classification :
Qliphoth : Irad has pushed the exploration of the limitations of the abilities granted to him by his nature far beyond any of his siblings. So long as there is stone and either sunlight or water, there is no shape that he cannot assume. He can control the degree to which he is invulnerable as if it was a sixth sense to him and can strengthen or weaken himself in any way he needs. In a word, he is the most perfectly mutable organism. Due to his all-consuming love for life, he changed the nature of his internal energy from mineral to biological, making him a true living being and not simply an animated statue.
Embrace of the Wild : Irad is capable of mating with any earth-born creature of any species, be it spirit, elemental, animal, human, plant, mushroom, god and even the undead. Due to his shapeshifting ability and the way he developed his powers, he can shapeshift even into immaterial creatures or creatures that should for all intents and purposes not be able to reproduce. The most gifted of his children are also capable of this, which can lead to the creation of monstrous bloodlines, one of the most notable being the famed khimaira of ancient Greece.
Soul of Wilderness : Irad can travel through wilderness in a way that makes him more concept than being, turning into a sort of wind that whistles and whirls through immensities, playing and laughing along with the feral inhabitants of those areas. Whenever a being of a higher species (humans, elves, dragons, etc) catches a whiff of this wind, their most primal instincts are stirred, and they may even witness the true beauty of the wilderness, even if it lasts only for the briefest of moments.
Seed of Renewal : Even though he is a living being, Irad does not truly need any part of his body. As such, he can tear out his own heart, which is filled with the energy of life, and plant it in devastated grounds, thus healing the area and allowing it to bear life again. This ability can also be used to resurrect a being, although doing so permanently chips away a shard of Irad's power to keep the resurrected being alive.
Rhythm of the Earth : Irad perceives the heartbeat of everything and the melody that every heartbeat creates, allowing him to know where and when there is something in need of healing. He can also influence the melody, especially in wild areas, and cause the surrounding life and sometimes even the environment itself to react to his will. One of the most notable examples of this ability are the plagues of egypt, where he acted to protect the people he was living among at the time.
Power of the lifeblood : A kind of (very) wild magic that Irad created, which served as the basis for many druidic traditions.
Sex : All of them Gender : Irad Age : 4 billion years and counting Family Member(s) : Taylor and Nadia ("sisters"), Lycoris Orea ("sister", deceased), Lycoris Aspera ("sister"), Zillah ("sister"), Ynosh ("brother") Sexual Preference : Demisexual. Wild doesn't mean uncaring Significant Other(s) : Everyone on earth, except those who cause suffering for its own sake Hideout :
Irad's home is a strange place. It embodies both order and chaos at the same time, friendliness and threat, homeliness and alienness. It is a place that he built with his very own hands in the depths of a long-lost primordial forest, and even though many have tried to find its location, no one ever succeeded. It seems that the home of the wild exists in the only place on earth that cannot be found, wherever that may be. It was once found in the kalahari desert in southern africa, only to be next located in the marianna trench, then in the depths of Mt Saint Helens, and so on. Reaching the home of the wild cannot be done by any mundane or supernatural means short of divine intervention. The only way to reach it without calling upon the divine is to become one with nature, which is why among the few who succeeded, almost all were druids or nature-bound powered individuals of some sort. Some obscure legends have it that the home of the wild is just the Garden of Eden that Irad stole after Adam and Eve were expelled from it, and even though Irad remained unclear on that topic when asked, his attitude seemed to affirm that it was only legend and not reality. Whatever the truth of the Home of the Wild might be, it may never be uncovered.
The Home is far bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. Halls and hallways spread in every direction, every wall a wonder of art, be it mosaic, painting, carving... Some walls are even just made of flowers and twigs and are nonetheless equally beautiful. Every recount of the Home says that each rooms hold a tablet on which is engraved a very complex spell recording the existence of a single lifeform, be it live or extinct, undead or spiritual, and among the scholars of Irad consensus has it that whomever manages to decipher the tablets would be able to recreate the corresponding being. The journals of a certain druid in particular recalls that his own experience of the Home was like a giant spiral that spread from space to the heart of the world, every window leading into the environment of a specific species, including species like humans, leviathans and even the great saurian titans of prehistory, and the diary mentioned that there were as many windows as there were stars in the sky, and everywhere in the Home could be heard Irad's joyful laughter.
Hideout Location : The most unreachable place on Earth Cooperation : Frequent Team Size/Composition : - Cooperativeness Scale : Frequent Common Gear : Nothing Civilian Appearance :
Behavior and Ranking
Raw Power ~ 80/100 Visibility ~ 0-100/100 Success ~ 80/100 Out of Combat Reputation ~ 100/100 Ranking ~ N/A/100 Political Abrasiveness ~ 50/100 Property Damage ~ 50/100 Lethality ~ 50/100 Rescue ~ 50/100 Tenure ~ ∞ /100