Name: Captain James D. Teller
Alias: Blackjack
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Class: Commando

Equipment: 1xR41A2 Assault Rifle, 1x LE21 Sidearm, 1x Ranger-standard combat knife, 1x Field Survival Kit(Contents below), 5x C7 Foaming Explosive Charge, 1x M67 Detonator, 3x Fragmentation Grenade, 4x Smoke Grenade, 3x Door Breaching Shaped Charge, 10x 7.62x54 30 round magazine, 10x 10 round .45 ACP magazine, first aid kit, military ruck sack, standard-issued Ranger Battle Armor, Elvish unending booze flask



Abilities: James is a trained commando, trained in close quarters, short and medium range combat, as well as demolitions, combat life saving and raid tactics. On the supernatural side, he has boosted reflexes and speed, along with hand eye coordination.

Fighting Style: James doesn't believe in a fair fight, and so he'll engage in whatever he thinks he needs to do in order to win. This means he naturally keeps his foe at the medium range his rifle excels at when he can. He'll also do you one better however and, if he can kill you before you ever see him, he'll do it. Traps, trickery, low blows and precision fire are all part of James's arsenal to win every battle he has to fight.




Wish: To find a new home, and in doing so finally end his personal war.


Appearance:



Frenzy: When Jack is frenzied, he quickly seems to become the very thing he has spent his career killing. Physically his appearance doesn't change heavily, though the spade tail, wings and suddenly ash-gray skin are all stark indicators that something isn't wrong with the operator. In this state, he is stronger, faster and able to react with blinding speed. However, his more important change is his switch from depending on his rifle to rushing his opponent, aiming to get them on the ground and beat them to death with as much brutal efficiency as possible.

Inventory: Phylactery, Visor

Name: Jiang Zhao

Alias: 憤怒龍 (pron. Fènnù lóng) AKA Angry Dragon

Race: Human

Sex: Male

Class: Composer/Musical Conductor

Equipment: -Conductor's Baton (faintly humming and glowing)

Abilities:
-Incredible Repertoire - His mad strive for absolute perfection has allowed him to remember a terrifying amount of detail from practically every single song he's ever heard.

-Intimidating Tact - His strive for perfection has also earned him incredible hand-eye coordination and seemingly lightning-fast reflexes. Basically, if he were to slap someone in the face, the motion of his hand wouldn't be detected by the naked eye.

-Severe Synesthesia - Not only can he physically see music and sound, but he can materialise it into the world in a visible shape. His Conductor's Baton greatly amplifies that power.

-Le Vent, Le Cri - Glowing floral shapes appear around Jiang and, within the specific song's power, begin healing any damage on his body. A full recovery requires him to finish the entire song. The more severe the damage, the longer the song needs to be.

-Riders of Doom - This spell forces Jiang's target to plunge into hopelessness, panic and/or emptiness, causing hallucinations of shadowy barbarian riders circling around them, or a vast, dry desert. Decreases will to fight. Potency of this abilty depends on the song's length and intensity.

-Disco Inferno - The ground within 1 or more meters around Jiang bursts into flames. Range depends on length of the song. If the enemy moves out of the area, Jiang must walk within range of them and start the song over.

-Live Wire/Tachanka - Lightning bolts shoot out of the Baton OR various firearms appear from behind him and shoot towards the target in rhythm with the song. Whether one thing or the other happens depend on whether he directs a military march or not.

-Harder than Steel - Jiang shields himself with a metal wall around him. Strength of the wall depends on the length of the song.

-Kung-fu prowess - Relatively formidable knowledge of Kung Fu - he reached the rank of black belt once near the end of high school and even participated in regional competitions, but due to his pursue in music he never developed this skill any further after he went to university. He can block out and counter most unarmed attacks.

Fighting Style: His usual tactic is to keep a safe distance and cast his Riders of Doom. He then begins striking the enemy with Live Wire/Tachanka while the enemy is disoriented. If they are too close, he casts a Harder than Steel and briefly ignites the ground with Disco Inferno, forcing them to get away. He only uses his prowess in kung fu when his Baton, for any reason, is out of reach.

Personality: Very condescending, extreme perfectionist with severe anger issues - he gets dangerously furious when he notices even the smallest errors in anything he finds relevant to his immediate interest, or if he finds out someone disagrees with his taste in music. This lifestyle seems to have caused permanent and grave damage to his sense of humor - one could say it is nonexistent at this point. As a citizen of the People's Republic of China, he has great distrust towards anyone who doesn't look like "pure Han Chinese being", calling them "laowai" (foreigner).

Bio: Born in 1977 in a small town near Shenyang, Liaoning province, PRC. Jiang's affinity to music became visible at the age of one, when the Beijing Symphony Orchestra was being broadcast live from a famous concert hall - the conductor's hand movements, in particular, impressed him, so he began waddling his hands around and that mysteriously increased and fixated the volume on the TV.

His time in elementary school was relatively normal, save for several incidents specifically involving orchestral music. Middle school was when his musical abilities began to really show - it was in a musical school. He joined the school band as a clarinet player and immediately impressed the teachers with his almost perfect musical skill. He was looked up to by every schoolmate and was pushed to perfection. A high point in this period of time was when he, agitated by the offbeat playing of his fellow bandmates, asked the teacher if he could replace him as conductor for a minute or two - the teacher agreed and, as Jiang directed the band, they played in perfect harmony.

High school ended early for Jiang - he became famous in his region for his beautiful compositions, his outstandingly precise tact and the mysterious aura he emits when on stage. Somehow, even the most lowly amateurs played like pure masters when he was there. This was not enough for him - he wanted to be able to materialize sound.

An incident occurred due to this aura of his - it involved a kidnapping, a pair of shady-looking figures and, as revealed to him later on, the Chinese Government. It was there, in a secret underground complex under the Forbidden City in Beijing, when he discovered the true range of his supernatural abilities. A team of scientists conducted various experiments on Jiang, while another team of engineers invented a special Baton, basing their design around the scientists' studies.

He was eventually led back out into the real world and was given the Baton - a device that he found out would allow him to finally materialize sound. He was satisfied - but not for long.

He went on to become a world-famous composer, which turned out was still not enough for him. Ever since then, he has taken it upon himself to become so perfect, he wouldn't need the Baton any more.

Wish: To become the most perfect, most prestigious composer and conductor in the entire world and to bask in his own absolute glory.

Echo: The very front of the stage in Vienna Musikverein, Vienna. Behind him are seated the Beijing Symphony Orchestra, in front of him - a full audience, every seat in the hall taken; among the audience - the world's leaders, mesmerised by his music and perfect tact.

Appearance:
Always wears a tuxedo suit and bowtie - they appear to be always perfectly clean.

Frenzy: Jiang starts playing 1812 Overture by Tchaikovsky 1:39 minutes in. Brightly glowing, tentacle-like beams of light appear behind him and make him invulnerable until the crescendo. All enemies in the area, meanwhile, are blinded. As the music progresses, the beams transform into a circle of cannons around him. Once the crescendo hits, the cannons are fully formed and serve as his defence, as he is completely vulnerable to any attack. The cannons fire rapidly and at random, always aimed in the general direction of Jiang's target.

Inventory: Phylactery

Name: Military Combat Android Generation 16 Series 58 Unit 9947 (Unit designation), Axel Clifton (Chosen name)

Alias: Riff

Race: Combat Android

Sex: Male Programming

Class: Specialist

Equipment:

• ACAR-38: The standard issue assault rifle for every Marine. It, like all other kinetic weapons of the UEGNC, uses a coil propulsion system to fire 8.41x63mm armour-piercing rounds at incredible speeds and range. It has a selective fire mode and can fire single shots, burst shots, and full auto. Comes with an undermounted grenade launcher and holds sixty rounds.
• G119: Standard issue sidearm. Fires 12mm rounds.
• E31 Homing Grenade: Frag grenades that home in onto targets when thrown and detonate.
• 12-inch Durasteel Combat Knife: A combat knife sharp enough to pierce through thinner layers of underarmour bodysuit.
• Sonic Cannon: A sonic cannon mounted to Riff's right arm. It can be deployed by turning his whole arm into it.
• Marine Powered Combat Armour/Specialist: Wears the specialist variant of the standard powered armour, intended for optimal mobility.

Abilities:

• Close to Metal: Being an android, Riff is able to sync up to any computer and easily repair any machine
• Heavy Mettle: Riff has good tactical leadership skills
• Pinpoint Calculations: Riff is a very competent marksman and deadly close combatant
• Cloud Storage: Riff can almost instantly download information into his memory banks.
• Advanced Hydraulics: Military Combat Androids all have advanced hydraulic systems, allowing them to have the strength three or more humans.

Fighting Style: Riff is a master of modern warfare, staying behind cover and spraying his enemies with 8.41x63mm hypersonic rounds, chucking grenades every so often. His supercomputer processing unit allows for pinpoint calculations, making him an incredible shot at range. However, he is also a deadly hand-to-hand combat fighter as both his armour's strength multipliers and his own hydraulics enable him to have up to ten times the strength of a normal human. With his Sonic Cannon, he can utilise it in close combat, devastating opponents with its power.

Personality: All Androids Generation 9 and above have their own distinct personality, and Riff is no exception. His personality is unique in that he attempts to flirt with every female he encounters, even though he is perfectly aware of the fact that he is not a human. Although this has certain drawbacks, he still tries and tries to get someone to fall for him, even though it has never worked once before. Most girls either rejected him for his flirtatious attitude, or because he was a metal skeleton incased in a synthetic layer of skin. He takes great pride in his musical talents, occasionally playing the guitar for his unit during free periods, thus earning him the nickname 'Riff'. He is also incredibly snarky at times, and is genre savvy.

Wish: To continue his dutiful service to humanity, and to pick up plenty of hot chicks along the way.

Echo: On planet Earth, humanity's homeworld, on the continent of North America, there is a massive complex built into the vast Canadian Rockies. This is the headquarters of the United Earth Government, the government of every single one of Earth's eight-thousand colonies.

Appearance:


Frenzy: Riff overclocks his plasma reactor, allowing him increased strength and mobility. However, he overheats very quickly in this state, needing to cool every so often. His Sonic Cannon becomes incredibly powerful, easily punching through walls and structures.

Inventory: Phylactery

A helmet made of a highly durable unknown material protects her head from most damage. The 3 gemstones can focus here eldritch energy, but are quite vulnerable to destruction compared to the helm. It notably does not guard her neck.


Aquatic being: More at home in the water than on land, capable of breathing underwater and swimming at immense speeds.
Combat tentacles: long hair can act as gripping, crushing tendrils that ensnare and constrict targets.
Alien intellect: As a truly ancient being her capacity to hold knowledge is vast. Not necessary smarter, but has more information to draw on.
Lose 10 sanity: Can fire purple blasts of eldritch energy from a purple gem on her chest and beams from the 3 on her helmet/visor. These blast the sanity of the target, disorienting and terrifying them. The blasts also cause concussive explosions and the lasers can cut through material if allowed to concentrate for long enough.
unnaturally durable: this body is but an illusion and an imitation of a human form, it feels no pain and features massive redundancy. Wounds that would kill or incapacitate a human are mild annoyances that slowly repair themselves. Only by destroying the brain may you prevail.

eldritch abominations:




Refuses to move at anything other than a leisurely stroll, she will ignore all ideas of cover or tactics and simply slowly towards the target, firing blasts of energy and relying on her durability to allow her to survive. She aims to utterly destroy the psyche of the enemy, acting as a constant unstoppable terror that is unfazed by your mortal weapons all the while firing a unending barrage of horror at them. Once the target is cowering in fear she will slowly walk up to them and then take their soul, adding them to her collection of thralls. If the enemy attempts to attack her directly she constrains them with her tentacle like hair and then destroys their mind with her eldritch powers. Then takes their soul.

Her minions act as hunting dogs, hounding her target out into the open for their mistress to continue her rain of terror. They are utterly loyal and relatively mindless.


Arrogant and proud, she is one of the oldest beings on the planet and is above all these pathetic young creatures and races looking down at them in all aspects. She is vain, considering herself an untarnishable beauty, maintaining an air of grace and poise is incredibly important to her, as is befitting a being of her power. She uses haughty pompous language, trying to sound sophisticated by using the longest possible word in any situation and has a tendency to try and sound flowery or poetic. Deep down she despises that she even has to associate with humans and their ilk, that she needs them to help achieve her goals. If anyone manages to get the better of her she will fly into an uncontrollable rage, for none should be able to match the offspring of a great old one.


Originally one of Cthulhu's Starspawn she is one of the only of his line to have not sunk with the lost city of R'lyeh and as a result has spend most of her early existence wandering the earth’s oceans and trying to wake up Cthulhu. She has built empires, created parasites that infect humans, strange half human fishfolk and many other schemes all to try and create cults that will bring about the ritual that reawakens her father. Fortunately every time she does this the cultists she has organised are thwarted by some soon to be madman or legendary hero. This is unsurprising incredibly frustrating for her, but she blames the useless humans for her failure, it could never be the fault of one so great as her.


To raise the city of R'lyeh and reawaken her father, the great old one cthulhu.

R'lyeh, a city found deep beneath the sea, a place of non-Euclidean geometry and built with Escher architecture. In the echo some of this twisting, maddening city has risen above the waves, the ground is still wet with seawater, the occasional fish can bee seen hopelessly flopping about and the dark places hide nigh unspeakable horrors just waiting to take the unsuspecting invaders by surprise.


Revealing her true form the 3 story high monstrosity is a massive, highly durable abomination capable of flight. Her energy attacks now come from her eyes and mouth and are considerably more powerful but mainly she will try to smash and crush her target. Fortunately her slowness is now less a principal and more a reality, she is hulking and lumbering, her blows mighty yet predictable.

phylactery

Name: Brucie

Alias: Brucie

Race: Hammerhead Shark (genetically modified)

Sex: Male

Class: Bombardier

Equipment: Brucie's chief claim to fame is his set of mechanical limbs. They are tough, sleek, highly functional pieces of tech. The teal and dark blue sections are hard, usually overlaying rubber 'muscle' that itself conceals the moving parts. The rubber itself is very dense, prone to catching blades and bullets that try to pierce it. Both the arms and legs can strike with a lot of power, but not very quickly. The hooklike talons on the arms can also rip flesh from bone if allowed to get a grip

Implanted into Brucie's lower jaw are biotic plugs that enable him to survive on land. They also link directly to his circulatory and immune systems, able to inject adrenaline, morphine, or antibiotics and filter out toxins. This is also where his voicebox is

Brucie's mechanical limbs come equipped with two weapons. The first, attached to his right arm, is a hose that can expel torrents of water at very high pressure, capable of both damaging and pushing back whatever gets caught. By altering the firing mode manually, Brucie can also use it to launch bouncy, explosive bubbles of water that explode with concussive force if burst. His secondary weapon is a missile launcher on his shoulder, which can lock on to enemies to fire up to six rockets. Thanks to a built-in portal system Brucie's weapons will not run out of water, but he would need to stock up on rockets

Brucie's trump card is a device known as the Shark Tank. Once removed from the inside of his left leg and activated by slamming the halves together, it creates a huge, thin bubble shield before opening an internal portal to the sea, rapidly filling the 50-meter radius area with water. In the water, enemies typically suffer equipment malfunctions and have trouble moving, and they can drown, but Brucie is able to move freely and attack with renewed vigor

Abilities: Being a genetically modified shark, Brucie can bite with nothing short of killer ferocity, able to maul even moderately protected targets and make a solid attempt at ripping up whatever metal he can get his teeth around. He has naturally high stamina and can seemingly flat-out ignore pain, though he still sustains damage dealt to his body.

His cybernetic enhancements, including the limbs and their weapons, afford him a decent amount of firepower in certain situations, but he's typically not effective beyond mid to close range. He can regenerate pretty quickly, though it is by no means a super healing factor

Fighting Style: Brucie typically starts out fights using his equipment, battering enemies down with cannons and blasts of water as well as missiles. If engaged at close range, or if he runs out of missiles, he transitions to a sort of berserker attack mode, just as liable to pounce on and start mauling a foe as try to break them with brutal swings from his mechanical limbs. He will use his trump card liberally when things aren't going his way. His habit of flooding an entire battlefield with water can pose extreme threat to certain people but possibly even help others, all depending on his opponent. However, despite his brute force and useful tech, he is a somewhat vulnerable berserker. His body, while regenerative, has no shielding, and his chances of victory plummet if his durable limbs somehow get taken out. Of course, he does have one weakness in particular: the plugs in his jaw which, if disabled, will cause him to suffocate

Personality: 'Bombastic' is a perfect word to describe Brucie. His uniquely boisterous and inconsistent demeanor comes across in practically all he does. His shark instincts remain at the forefront of his consciousness, giving him the capacity for great savagery and cruelty. Brucie loves to fight, and often feels as though he should, but most of the time chooses to act normally instead, though his normal is still kooky compare to most. Rather than some kind of rage that needs to be constantly kept in check, his instincts come to him merely as satisfying suggestions. Instead of ripping and tearing all the time, Brucie behaves with a genial liveliness and earnest sense of humor that make him into more of an energetic, goonish jokester than anything else, albeit one with a killer streak. He's an animal that lives with no regrets, and indulges in thrill-seeking and general tomfoolery whenever he can. He speaks like a classic hooligan

Bio: In the modern age, humans often look back to animals as inspiration or subjects for study, seeking to understand and emulate their gifts, but only an intrepid few seek to bring beasts to the level of men.

While Winston was growing up on Horizon Lunar Colony, the program of which he and his kind were art spawned a variety of echoes back on earth. Some were professionally executed and formally funded; others proved ill-conceived and doomed to failure. The terrorist organization known as Talon hatched its own scheme to harnass the earth's deadliest creatures to use as shock troops, and from their endeavors, Brucie came to be. Originally an ordinary hammerhead shark captured in the Adriatic Sea off the coast of Italy, he underwent massive chemical and technological augmentation and almost died. In the end, the experiment's director, an ambitious technophile named Francesca Marini, sold all she owned to see the years-long operation through. Brucie awoke, possessing a near-human mind, robotic limbs, and the ability to speak through a special impulse translator, to see the grin of a woman who'd achieved her vision quest.

Talon wasted no time putting Brucie to work. At his superiors' behest, Brucie turned his formidable water-based technology and homing missiles on Watchpoint: Gibraltar and other ex-Overwatch installations, his mission to wipe them from the face of the earth. As fun as it was, it did not leave the shark truly satisfied. Fighting was all he knew; he could not go among humans to observe and interact with them, for he was a freak. His lack of interest in Talon's ultimate goals became apparent to its leaders before too long, and they toyed with the idea of 'cutting him loose'. Ultimately, however, they decided that the chance of Marini's creation surviving and going on a roaring rampage of revenge was too high. Instead, they let him go, and he made a half-sunken ship in the Adriatic Sea his home under Talon's discreet, watchful eye. There he lived with Francesca and her young niece, who used the ship's renovated cabins and laboratory to continue working for Talon and other such entities, unbeknownst to Brucie.

Since Overwatch's recall, Brucie has been cultivating acquaintances with its members to make amends for his naive warpath in the past—with Talon in the know all the while.

Wish: To become human

Echo: The half-sunken ship, which is mostly derelict except for a functioning laboratory and pretty nice cabins. Brucie's own quarters, which was the cargo hold when the ship was still afloat, is completely submerged. This place serves as his home and base of operations, and now it has appeared off the shore of the City of Echoes

Appearance:



Frenzy: Contorted by pain, Brucie undergoes rapid mutation. His flesh surges outward and overgrows his mechanical limbs, using them as a carbon-fiber skeleton for the organism that is to come. The end result is a wretched, swollen humanoid shark, rippling with muscle and hideous in its deformity, but possessed of an immense regenerative factor and surprising speed to accompany overwhelming physical strength. Disturbingly, he will continue to talk as he fights in this form, but his speech openly suggests a complete loss of sanity

Inventory: Phylactery

Name: Erina
Alias: The Itinerant Exorcist
Race: Kitsune
Sex: Female
Class: Spiritualist
Equipment: Most of Erina’s more practical items are strapped to the belt at her waist.

The most obvious item she carries is a sheathed katana tied at her hip. Upon unsheathing it, however, the metal is chipped and reddened, consumed by rust. Once this was a beautiful, razor sharp blade, but as it is, its days as a proper weapon are clearly long over. But perhaps like the spirit that lives within the blade, it may have a chance to shine again.

At the other side is an unassuming satchel holding a dozen small knives meant for throwing. She can’t use them by herself, but got them at another’s behest.

A second satchel at her back holds a good number of talismans, long slips of paper with traditional writings on them. Their purpose is to ward off ill-omens and evil spirits. While they won’t do much to protect her from more mundane threats, spirits, undead and certain kinds of demons would be severely weakened if touched by them. They can also be placed in dwellings or shelters to sanctify them, only allowing the aforementioned supernatural beings within if they leave a portion of their strength behind.

Last among her belongings is a small knapsack with her money and writing instruments such as ink, chalk and charcoal wrapped up snugly inside.

Abilities:

-Discerning Eye: For the supernatural. Erina has always been able to see ghosts and spiritual entities that others cannot (likely because, in a manner of speaking, she is one herself). This doesn’t limit itself to ghosts, however. Illusions brought about by magic acquire a certain transparency in her eyes, making the falsehoods obvious, and she can tell at a glance whether an object has been cursed, enchanted, or is mundane.

-Will-o-Wisp: She can summon several small wisps of purple fire at a given time, controlling their movement with only a little effort. However, these wisps simply dissolve on contact with hard surfaces, barely letting out any heat in most circumstances. Normally, this is no more than a party trick. At worst, they could start a fire or damage clothes if she’s not careful with them.

However, when they touch ghosts, undead, or certain kinds of demons, the wisps combust beautifully, catching on their flesh (or what they might call flesh) in painful bursts of fire.

-Calling: Most ghosts instinctually seek those who can see them, and for better or worse, few would refuse a summons by one with Erina’s gift. In some places, particularly where atrocities have taken place and many have died, ghosts may gather around her the moment she sets foot in their haunt. More often, however, a small ritual is required wherein Erina finds a quiet place to meditate and call for those left behind. If available, this ritual may be performed using the belongings of the deceased to call them out specifically.

These ghosts are not bound to her will, and even if they were they have no way to affect the world around them (those who can are typically violently insane and are best disposed of immediately). However, those that retain enough reason to speak are often more than willing to share information with one who is alive.

-Channeling: This may be seen as a kind of willful possession where Erina allows a spirit to enter her body to use their skills. This is not true possession, as rather than being in control of the body, the ghost’s mind melds with that of the host, imparting them memories and knowledge. While the will directing the body when channeling is most definitely the host’s, certain aspects of their demeanor and personality may be colored by the experiences of the donor. Most outside memories glimpsed by either the host or the donor while performing this technique tend to disappear quite quickly once separate, and complex skills performed while channeling such as speaking other languages or combat expertise are not retained by the host. While convenient, it is no substitute for learning.

There is one particular spirit Erina often relies on for Channeling, a ghost by the name of Bend (attempts to pry his actual name from him have all failed). He appears to her in the appearance of a balding man in his sixties dressed in grey flowing robes. He is host to a grave demeanor, speaking curtly and matter-of-factly. The man claims to have been the head of a clan of assassins in the service of an old feudal lord, and that both he and his master fell to betrayal from a trusted friend. Bend has taken residence in the old rusted blade that once belonged to him, and has chosen to serve Erina with the wish to safeguard his new master to the bitter end.

A man of keen eyes and keener instincts rumored to have an iron body and the ability to deflect blades with his bare hands, Bend was a master killer. Now the latter two are exaggerations, but she can attest for the assassin’s skills first hand. Bringing the spirit within her gives her access to the man’s training, lending her the knowledge needed to move silently and unseen and to fight with fists, swords and knives with frightening proficiency.

Moreover, channeling Bend somehow restores her blade to its former glory for the duration of their connection. When asked about this the first time it occurred, the spirit shrugged, as though it was a matter of course, and replied that the blade would never break as long as he had a master to serve, and never dull as long as he willed it sharp.

Outside of Channeling, Bend can aid Erina by advising her in dangerous situations, peering through walls, and scouting ahead, though he cannot move beyond two hundred meters from his sword. He is also very knowledgeable on matters relating to the manufacturing and administering of poisons, but this is one kind of expertise Erina can do without.

-Illusion: A kind of magic which came to her instinctually, much like her wisps. However, her brand of illusions does not tend to be horribly complicated. They are largely visual, for one. As an example, this magic allows her to hide her tail and ears if she needs to, along with things she might be carrying in her hands or strapped to her belt. These illusions tend to break down when touched unexpectedly or when she is startled.

She can also create images of objects such as handkerchiefs, rabbits or flocks of doves popping out of hats and, when in a pinch, duplicates of herself. However, she can typically only hold together one duplicate at a time, it must be at least twenty meters from her, and, as before, these images all dissolve when suddenly touched by a solid object.

Fighting Style: Should she not be channeling Bend, Erina cannot be truly described as a combatant. She is fit and slippery, and has enough of a sense of danger to know when she is in trouble, but can do little against most threats beyond running away and attempting to lose her pursuers with the occasional duplicate splitting off from her.

The only enemy she may truly be able to combat on her own merits (and may indeed see as her duty to do so) are ghosts, the undead, and certain kinds of demons. That said, her ‘fighting style’ does not change much. She still attempts to keep her distance at all costs, except that now she can also bombard the enemy with fireballs and attempt to trick them into touching her talismans all while whooping and hollering with the rush of adrenaline and vindication. It’s not often she can boast of being able to pull her weight in a proper fight.

When dealing with any other kind of threat, particularly in kill or be killed situations, she will defer to Bend and allow him to possess her. The change is typically immediate. Movement that was once energetic and wasteful becomes silent and fluid, not quicker so much as streamlined, and her nerves are stilled by the killer’s cold contemplation.

If the battle can be won before the target can so much as see her, the chance should be taken. If the target forces combat, she must not tire her sword arm with feints. Every blow must be a killing blow. If the target attempts to put distance between them, throwing knives can apply pressure while she approaches. Diversions should come from illusions, no other use for those doppelgangers. A fair tool, though, one she did not have in life. If victory is out of reach, she must not hesitate to flee and regroup. The enemy’s guard must lower eventually.

Personality: Erina is, at her core, a genial and warm person. She is quick to warm up to new people, quick to form attachments and loves being depended on by others. However, her energy can occasionally daunt and irritate others, and piled with the fact that she sometimes looks at or speaks with invisible entities heedless of those around her gives rise to certain ideas.

She purports to be knowledgeable about all that lies beneath the sun, her worldly knowledge second to none, but when posed questions, her answers tend to be both immediate and wildly off-base. Ironically, the only questions she will regularly answer correctly are those with explanations deviating far from common sense. It is not clear whether she truly believes the answers she gives or if she is simply playing a joke on the listener. She certainly has a slight, almost compulsive tendency to lie in her day to day speech with little consistency and for seemingly no reason, leaving those wise to her ways to watch out for these occasional pitfalls. These lies become alarmingly commonplace when she speaks about her past, to the point where the only consistent thing she might say in a conversation regarding herself may be the reasons for her travels, that is, “To deliver a letter to my lost teacher.”

In a way, Bend has grown to become her confidant, the only person to whom she will speak to with complete honesty.

Erina does not like conflict. She is aware that she makes for a poor fighter, and does not like to rely on Bend’s expertise unless her life is in danger or she has been led to a situation where she needs to kill. If she catches wind of dangerous but mundane business afoot, she is more likely to warn other parties, such as guards or the like, and steer clear of trouble if she can.

She is most at her element performing exorcisms, leading those willing to rest, and disposing of the dangerous ones in flames if needed. It is the one thing she considers to be her duty.

When channeling Bend, she loses much of her joviality, becoming more serious and calculating. Calm, too, and she voices no displeasure at the prospect of killing. It’s only natural. She has already resolved to kill if she has let the killer in. Her manner of speaking becomes more straightforward as well, but the occasional blatant falsehood still slips out, hinting that it is still the very same person speaking.

Bio: Erina was found by the head monk of a shrine-temple along a mountain pass when she was but a toddler. Astonished by the sight of the ears and tail growing from her, the priest hesitated to approach. He was fearful that it might be a trap laid by a malignant spirit, but when Erina let out a pitiful cry, the man was moved to action, aware that if she was truly but a babe she would starve to death in that mountain path. That day, she found a home.

At first, Erina was taken care of by the old monk in secret, with the help of those monks he trusted most closely, but it is not a simple thing to attend to the needs of both a temple and a crying baby. Soon enough Erina’s presence had to be disclosed to the rest of the monks dwelling in the temple. The head monk explained how he found her, but omitted Erina’s animal features from the story. When showing them the child, he concealed her ears and tail with a cloth headpiece and blankets. He told them that he had kept the secret to avoid disturbing their daily rituals until he came to a decision about what to do with the babe. The decision he had come to was that Erina must have been an omen, and it would be best to rear her in that very temple.

After that, the head monk and a few others continued to take care of her, keeping her ears and tail a secret. She later heard from her teacher that it must have been divine providence that the ruse was never seen through until she was old enough to hide them herself.

When she asked him why it was necessary to hide that part of herself, the monk explained that humans fear what they do not understand, that fear isolated, and that in isolation the heart rusted.

In return, she asked if he had feared her when he first saw her ears and tail. The monk answered seriously that yes, he had been afraid. Quick for her age, Erina asked him why he had brought her with her, if he had been afraid.

The monk smiled and answered that that when one is concerned with fear, only the natural and the bad could occur because of it. As for the good, that could only come about in spite of fear. This was the first time she began to think of the old monk as her teacher, and this was only the first of many lessons he would impart.

The monk first became aware of Erina’s other peculiarities at an early age. The girl would look into space as though following something only her eyes could see, and occasionally she caught her holding conversations with herself. At first, he did not feel like it was particularly strange behavior for a child, but as she grew and this quirk continued, he began to fear for her. When he resolved to ask her about this, the girl seemed puzzled. At the time she still could not comprehend the difference between the spirits of the departed and the living, and it never occurred to her that she could see things others could not. The monk himself was skeptical about these people Erina saw, but was quickly understood the girl’s gift when Erina gave her an exact description of the previous head of the temple, and related to him a story of his own childhood no one else could have known of. From then on, her teacher also attempted to help her develop this strange talent, at least by helping her distinguish between ghosts and people by pointing out those he saw. He also advised her to ignore the spirits when around the other monks.

So the years passed. Soon Erina had matured, able to participate in the daily prayers and rituals at the temple, and occasionally visiting the small village at the foot of the mountain to offer blessings and take donations with some of the other monks. She loved the rituals that involved dances or theatrics, though the monks privy to her secret were desperate to keep her out of them for fear that her true nature might be revealed by a sudden jerk or an unfortunate sway of her dress. The world was small and warm, and time went by slowly, serenely.

One day, her teacher fell ill and passed away. He had not been the first. Other old monks in the temple had moved on in the past few years. Others that shared her age had begun to show small wrinkles around the eyes and smatterings of grey hair. She, however, remained like a faithful portrait, unchanged since the nineteenth year after she was found.

Suddenly she knew in her heart of hearts that she would not age beyond that point.

The monk had arranged for her to succeed him as the temple’s caretaker, but an idea that would have once brought her joy now filled her with dread. She could almost see in her mind’s eye as time unwound around her. The rest of the monks would one day follow her teacher’s footsteps. Their children would take their place, and other monks may come from beyond this temple to take the place of the rest, and then those too would one day move one. And what of her? The one that stood still in that river? What would they think of her? Isolation rusted the heart.

In the following days, her teacher had his last rites performed. The day after they were completed, Erina was nowhere to be seen.

She had stolen away in the dead night with a cloak and some food and arrived at the village at the foot of the mountain just as the sun began to rise. This is where her travels began. Clumsily, at first, for she had spent all her years within the small world of her temple home, and the world outside was vast indeed, its people varied and its ways mysterious. Many times she relied on charity to survive, and when she was lucky she found superstitious travelers and traders that would pay for a priestess to accompany them and ward off ill-omens. She had already began to obfuscate the nature of her past at this point, but the mannerisms and teachings of a shrine maiden were unmistakable.

One of these travelers once gave her a letter of introduction to a business partner that was seeking help from experts in the spiritual, and knowing no one else in the city, she resolved to visit this man. By then, she could readily distinguish between spirits and humans, and had allowed more than a few to move on in her travels, so when the man reticently spoke of his problem with her, she quickly realized what it would require of her. The trader had goods he needed to move stored in a certain warehouse, but the workhands all refused to enter the building. A strange chain of accidents had occurred within, and the warehouse was now seen as cursed. She was offered remuneration if she could convince the workers that the building was safe.

She did as bid, and practiced her craft within the warehouse. The actual exorcising took but a few minutes inside the building (a mad ghost had made it its haunt and had somehow become strong enough to insinuate itself into people’s thoughts), but the workers refused to return until she had spent two days offering prayers and sticking paper charms to the building’s walls. It was not all that surprising to her. She had already learned that most people would not believe that which they could not see, and so she put on required show. Truthfully, most of that time was spent dozing off inside the shelter provided by the warehouse. Once word got to her employer that the workers were going back into the warehouse, she received her payment (less than the agreed upon amount, but bartering was not a strong suit of hers back then) and a word of thanks. Sensing an opportunity, Erina told the man that if he knew of anyone who could use her talents, to not hesitate to send them her way.
In that city far from home, the maddening pace of her journey began to slow. She stayed for almost a year, making coin through charity, by selling off paper talismans as wards and good-luck charms and occasionally taking contracts to deal with haunts or perform séances. Eventually, however, she left for another town in her pilgrimage, an introductory letter once again in her pocket.

This cycle was carried out several times. She reached a new town or city, plied her trade, if it could even be called a trade, and looked for contacts. She would stay for anything between a handful of months to a handful of years depending on the work available, and eventually move on. It was in one of these exorcist odd jobs that she came across the rusty blade Bend uses as a vessel. It had been hidden under a house’s floorboards, and the assassin’s own stormy thoughts had brought a dark aura to the home, bringing nightmares to the owners. Bend was unwilling to move on, unyielding in his desire to properly serve a master again, and Erina could not bring herself to forcibly exorcise him while he had his wits about him, so she simply took the sword with her.

One day she reached a seaport town, and came to watch a circus troupe perform at the docks. She was instantly taken with the magician's’ tricks, and watched the spectacle with a childish glee.

When the show was done and the troupe was packing up, she homed in on the magicians to ask them about their magic, how they casted the sorceries that let dazzle their audience so. She had hope in her heart that she might find one of her kind in their numbers. At first the artist laughed her off with the tired line of ‘a true magician never reveals their secrets,’ but when Erina continued to insist and the man realized she truly believed they were sorcerers, he brought her close and whispered to her. That the magic was called sleight of hand. That the spell was misdirection and the magic was in the mind that chose to believe. ‘Magic that simply is does not exist anymore,’ he told her, unaware of the irony.

The following day, she purchased a different set of traveling clothes and set out on her trip once more. Up until then, she had always worn clothes reminiscent to the ones she had left the shrine with. It didn’t occur to her until later that after hearing the magician’s confession the teachings of her faith had lost some their sway over the way she thought.

The cycle picked up again and continued as it has before, though occasionally it was interrupted when the local priesthoods condemned her practices and ran her out of town. Regardless, she always stayed long enough to forge friendships, stayed long enough to make the parting hurt, but always left in the end nonetheless. Most of all, she never once visited the same town twice. This way she maintained an illusion of immutability. The feeling of being outside of time was not as overpowering when she continually saw new things, continually met new people, and left long before those sights could age and move on without her.

Wish: To find her lost teacher! Good food! World peace! Riches beyond measure!

Her answer changes every time she is asked, but her true wish is a simple one. Erina has lived for long enough to grow lonely. Beings as long lived as her are few and far in-between in her world, and most who still exist have withdrawn from the world. What she wishes for is someone to share her life with. It does not matter if it is as friends or lovers or bitter rivals as long as she can feel their warmth without the fear of them wasting away with time.

Ironically, this tournament might very well pit her against candidates for such a position. Everyone came to this place willing to put their life on the line, even her. Still, she needn’t kill them. Hopefully they would not make her kill them.

Echo: The docks of a large city, the smell of salt and seafood all but saturating the air. Wooden vessels large and small dot the waterline, and the buildings nearby are largely warehouses and trading company buildings.

This is where she first saw the ocean. More importantly, here she was dazzled by a magic trick.

Appearance: 5’4” and with a svelte frame, from a distance Erina may be confused for a young man, particularly while wearing a hood. On closer inspection, however, the mounds on her chest are unassuming but undeniably present under her clothing. Travel has made her body lean, building some muscle on her arms and legs, but her pale features retain a kind of softness enhanced by her optimistic smile and the intelligent gleam of her green eyes. Belying her youthful appearance, her hair is a grayish white, kept to shoulder length to avoid the aforementioned misunderstandings.

The pair of white ears sitting atop head and the furry tail sprouting from her rear betray Erina’s inhuman nature. She often wears a brown cloak in order to hide those features as constantly maintaining illusions is terribly inconvenient, but the back of the cloak may rustle from time to time, particularly when she’s excited. Her preferred set of clothing consists of sturdy, brown traveling boots, tan cloth pants with a hole at the back held up by a belt, and a bluish shirt.

Frenzy: On some occasions, her tail might split off a black double. When this occurs, several other changes come upon Erina. Her pupils turn to slits, her fingers elongate, nails growing sharp like claws and her features grow pointed and angular, lips stretching and mouth jutting forward slightly in a manner vaguely reminiscent of a muzzle.

While in this state she is much stronger and faster than normal, her mind is lost, leaving her to strike out at anything and everything that moves with an angry snarl displaying filed teeth and little instinct for self-preservation. Indeed, were this all, one might make the case that Erina is deadlier when allowing Bend to possess her. While she can’t seem to commune with spirits or use illusions while in this form, her natural fire magic is greatly amplified. She will use this instinctively, throwing out streams of fire at anything on sight and sending swaths of purple flame flying with every swing of her arms. Should she turn into this beast, a firestorm is soon to follow.

Inventory:
-Phylactery

Name: Joanne Schrodinger
Alias: Trickshot Jo'
Race: Honey Badger
Sex: Female
Class: Sharpshooter
Equipment:

• Dual Revolvers - Sporting powerful rounds and six chambered cylinders, these babies are Joanne's number one weapons of choice, capable of putting a dent in metal armor if aimed correctly.
• Derringer Necklace - A single-shot derringer disguised as a necklace piece, Joanne saves this for moments when it'd be best to catch her opponents off guard. Not very powerful and with only one shot, it can only be used for well-placed surprise attacks.
• Trick Ammo - Various specialty bullets she uses with her six-shooters which range anywhere from small gas rounds to shock rounds to rubber ammunition which can be bounced off of surfaces to strike targets from unique angles.
• Bowie Knife - Only used when she has absolutely no choice but to get in close, this tough knife is great for stabbing and slashing.

Abilities:

• Impeccable Aim - As a trained sharpshooter of the highest caliber (pun intended), Joanne Schrodinger's aim can mystify and astound the masses. It's nearly impossible for her to miss, even when performing death-defying feats for the entertainment of the crowd.
• Circus Side-Show - Joanne's not just a shooter, but a performer. For years she was expected to fire off shots and hit bullseyes while acting the role of a daredevil, swinging from the trapeze and being fired from a cannon. As such, she's highly maneuverable and light on her feet with astounding balance.
• Badger Body - Despite all the above, Joanne is still just a honey badger, with the strength and fortitude of one. Once she takes a good hit, there's not much else left. As such, she's likely to take by far the least amount of punishment of all contestants before going down and out.

Fighting Style: For Trickshot Jo, fights aren't just fights, they're performances. As a performer herself, she needs to inject as much flash and flair into the battle as can be mustered. This serves two purposes, the first acting as a distraction and demotivator for her enemies, and second to rub their faces in how great she is. Of course if an enemy proves to be too difficult to battle while making a show out of it, then she'll forgo style and pomp to focus solely on the actual fighting. As a sharpshooter it's no surprise that range is her best friend, especially since her small animal body isn't capable of tanking any strikes up close and personal. It goes a little beyond the normal "keep my distance and unload" strategy, though. Her shooting is strategic, meticulous, and full of style. She keeps moving, sets up traps, fires around corners (with bouncing rubber bullets), and keeps mouthing off the entire time just to piss off and trip up her opponents.

Personality: Joanne Schrodinger's mannerisms are the very embodiment of the stereotypical black sassy woman. Short tempered and ornery, she doesn't take any crap from anybody. Quite proud, she shows excellent confidence in her skills while putting on a big show of bravado. Half sincere and half show, it is intended to let others around her underestimate her true prowess. She is genuinely respectful of those that provide her with the same, but her past of being judged based on appearance colors all interactions she has with people now. No non-sense, all business up in here.

Bio: Born 7 years ago amidst a populated island with bountiful wildlife, it was apparent even from a young age that this little honey badger wasn't like the rest of her family. They walked on four legs, she walked on two. They ate wild insects and small mammals, she preferred to cook her food and season it first. They hunted with their paws and teeth, she preferred to craft tools. It was very strange, but there was one way in which she was the same as all her own kind: They all had nasty tempers. They'd get into fights with her all the time, wondering why she had to be so different, she got into fights with them all the time, wondering why the hell they should care, it was a big mess.

Ignoring the pleas of the other honey badgers, she left for a nearby human village in order to meet with them, see how they'd treat her. The reception was... Not what she expected. A lot of words were said in very unkind ways, some people screamed, a guy tried to shoot the little honey badger, she bit his leg down to the bone, it was a whole ordeal. Humans were afraid of a badger that walked and talked like them, so it was a bizarre situation. Animal control tried to bag and tag her, but the little honey badger took the gun from the guy she had bitten and threatened them. Animal control decided that badgers with guns was above their paygrade and promptly got the eff out of dodge.

For the next several months the little badger decided that hunting small mammals and insects was for chumps and suckers, so she'd get what she needed for the humans that lived nearby, humans that scorned her without getting to know her. It was hilarious how much they yelled and ran around when she went waving that gun around! So stories spread of the badger bandit, some believing it to be a joke but others knowing the stories to be too real. Eventually a traveling circus made it to the island as part of their seafaring show tour. Seeing this as the opportunity for her best score, the little badger snuck in to steal as much food and supplies as she possibly could, but had been caught in the process by the ringleader. The ringleader did not react in the same way that the little badger had been accustomed to. Instead of fear, he was friendly. Instead of screaming, he spoke softly. Even when she pointed her gun at his face he replied not with an equal sense of violence, but a chuckle and an offer. He said that he'd never seen anything else like her in all the seas his circus had traveled and that she could join. She'd get all the food she'd ever need, and in return he could teach her how to hone her skill with the gun, how to put on a show that will make the people cheer out of entertainment, not yell out of fear and bewilderment.

With a little contemplation, the little badger agreed. The ringleader gave her the name Joanne Schrodinger that day, to signify her paradoxical nature. A badger, yet not a badger. For years she trained in her art, along with the trapeze, the cannons, and all the basics of the circus. The animal tamer resented her for acting so autonomously, and everyone questioned how this honey badger could walk and talk like a human. Her only response was a shrug and a, "I don' care, mind your own damn business." Eventually her act was the biggest draw of the circus, and she was living a life worth living just like the ringleader promised. Unbeknownst to Joanne though, things began to boil beneath the surface, close to coming to a rise.

The night that would change Joanne's life forever came about 5 months ago. The crew of pirate captain Bartholomew K. Runch shared an audience with a marine commodore while Joanne gave her biggest show yet: being fired from cannon to cannon and having to shoot moving targets while flying in midair, without a net. On the final cannon shot something went wrong. There wasn't enough powder to propel her all the way back to the main stage, and so Joanne Schrodinger began to plummet. Just as she thought her life had come to an end, she was caught by the Cereal Killer, Cap'n K. Runch, whose interference revealed his presence to the marines. Before a fight broke out, the ringleader convinced the marines to let he and his circus take care of the pirates, citing that it was their own honored that had been bismirched. As Runch and crew began to flee, Joanne in tow (believed to be a hostage) the commodore agreed and thought it would be an interesting new show.

For the rest of the night the Krunch Pirates fought against the circus masters while Joanne investigated the accident that had almost killed her, only to find that it was no accident. The circus beast tamer's resentment had grown beyond his control, leading to his sabotage of the final cannon. The ringleader himself found out, but instead of putting the man in his place, the ringleader merely berated him for nearly killing their biggest money maker. Joanne, hearing this from the shadows, became enraged. She was just a meal ticket? He never actually cared for her well being? He left before her righteous fury was put into action, but the beastmaster did not escape her justice. After a hard fought battle, she had him at her mercy. Instead of putting a bullet between his eyes, she opted to pistol whip him and leave his ass behind to suffer the embarrassment.

Feeling she had no place left to go, Joanne boarded K. Runch's ship as he pulled out of harbor. The rest of the crew were surprised to see the circus performer suddenly aboard their vessel and when questioned on why she was there, she had this to say. "I go where I want, you don't own me!" Ever since Joanne Schrodinger has been the sharpshooter of Runch's crew and (begrudgingly) grown closer to everyone.

Wish: Joanne has entered to give her cap'n two bites at the apple, so to speak. She has already found her wish living with a crew of people who accept her for who and what she is (even if she has to pistol-whup their asses into shape here and there), so her plans upon winning would be to grant Runch's desires.

Echo: A circus big top built upon spires of rocks jutting up from the sea, cannons, trapeze, and other obstacles spread around wooden platforms and the air.

Appearance:
Joanne is, well, a honey badger. A honey badger that normally walks on two legs, wears a cowboy hat, and has a bandoleer of ammunition for her guns. It's a pretty jarring and bizarre sight for most people.

Frenzy: When Joanne frenzies under the influence of the phylactery, she drops her guns, sheds her clothing, and fully embraces her animal nature in a beastial, rabid physical assault. In this state her physical abilities are enhanced to be considerably stronger than your average honey badger and her teeth and claws grow to be several inches in length, but she loses all higher reasoning, including her precious speech, making her frenzy something to avoid at all costs as it will result in almost certain defeat. After all, a badger of enhanced strength is still just as susceptible to gun and sword, losing the ability to strategize or the concept of dodging isn't conducive to long term survival.

Inventory: Phylactery

Name: Finimor Thoedrun

Alias: Fin, the Cop

Race: Rythulian/Wanderer

Sex: Male

Class: Gunman

Equipment:
-Siglico & Valencino Mk. IV .44 Handgun - Emits a bright fluorescent blue glow from its inside
-Sacred Scarf - 6 ft long, charged with a strange energy depicted in glowing white symbols.

Abilities:
-Scarf-based Flight - Fin's strange scarf allows him to float upwards for about 6 seconds. Afterwards, it must be recharged - by itself, it recharges for around 35 seconds, or it may recharge for up to 5 seconds, depending on how close it is to an electric or magnetic field.
-Wanderer's Voice - There is a special addition to Fin's larynx which allows him the use of the Wanderer's Voice - a peculiar way of speech used for operating or activating things. The sound is either a short "chirp", or a drawn-out, chiming "call". It activates any electrical or magical devices within range. The physical range of its effects depends on how loud he calls.
-Quickdraw - Fin's apparent career as a policeman in a vast, booming and violent city has earned him skills similar to a character from a Wild West movie - "Quicker draw and better aim than any crook, as was required of us."
-Bloodhound Snout - Fin's physiology, similar to a canine, allows him an increased sense of smell - a single whiff of the enemy's general stench and he can quickly track them down from a dozen miles away.
-Cat People- Another thing "they had to learn in the academy" was how to move quickly, yet silently and without being seen - similar to a cat. The common Rythulian's small weight helped with that. An addition to their training was how to make the most out of another peculiar part of their physiology - their ability to adjust very well and very quickly to the dark.

Fighting Style: A good cop from Fin's home city would follow a quite militaristic principle - shoot first, ask questions later. Fin takes this principle very seriously, as he always tries his hardest to make absolutely sure to engage at the enemy before they do. In fact, he doesn't even let them attack at all - his basic tactic is to fire all six shots from his gun towards them as rapidly as he can and reload as quickly as his ashy hands can. If available, he will use any nearby electrical or magical device to trap or - in this particular case - kill the crook he is pursuing.

Personality: Fin seems quite stoic, but under the guise of a cold-hearted, robotic policeman only loyal to the concept of law and order lies a surprisingly smart and sensitive man. His greatest fear is failure, which is why he is so extremely diligent in his work. He has always relied on his gut-feeling, seeing as it's seemed to have saved his life numerous times in the past. He always approaches other people with extreme caution and uses short sentences, as he is more used to work-related situations where he could be stabbed at any moment. For this, he keeps a slightly bigger distance than a normal person would and has a tendency to stare, which is something he himself isn't aware of.

Bio: Fin lost most of his memories since his civilization ended abruptly as a result of a Civil War. Although the only life he's ever truly known is that in the Wastes - roaming the sands, visiting ruins and meeting the occasional fellow Wanderer - he does seem to remember small bits of his past life, such as a vast city, his time serving the local police, skills and principles acquired from the police, the city's Law, and a very vague yet specific memory of skyscrapers falling down and collapsing into clouds of dust and smoke, the ear-piercing sounds of guns being fired nearby, the smell of blood, iron and gunpowder, the rumbling feeling of explosive shockwaves and the dead body of someone he feels must've been very important to him. He prefers not to talk or think too much about that particular memory, as it always makes him dizzy when it comes to mind.

Wish: His greatest wish is to not be afraid of failure anymore. He never truly made any friends in the Wastes because of this crippling phobia for failure.

Echo: A pile of ruins inhabited by a small colony of Wanderers, all of them good friends of each other - people he can trust. Around the ruins - a vast, golden sea of sand reflects the light from the sun. Distant silhouettes of more, slightly bigger ruins nearby. In the horizon - a tall, tall mountain with a crack at the very tip of it. The crack emits a beacon of light. A feeling of being beckoned when one looks at the beacon. Additionally, a vague memory of upbeat music from before the Civil War playing in his head.

Appearance:


His scarf is scarlet and it is bordered with strips of golden silk. The golden silk glows and symbols appear upon it when in use or when recharging

Frenzy: A black, steaming liquid begins oozing out of Fin's mouth. Cataracts form up on his eyes. He begins rambling about how the opponent is guilty and is sentenced to death.

The black liquid proceeds to slowly consume his body in the form of dark tendrils. He can eject some of it from his mouth. The more his body is consumed, the further he can eject the liquid from his mouth. The black liquid has potent acidic properties, so once it touches an enemy, it causes excruciating pain to them and begins to consume them too. Fin, on the other hand, is unaffected by any pain, although his body still suffers damage. Any wounds inflicted upon him or anyone affected by the liquid makes the consumption quicker.

Once it consumes his scarf, it needs no recharging and he can fly indefinitely. However, the scarf also begins to slowly dissolve.

Once his entire body is consumed, his flesh begins to crack and he can eject more liquid from the cracks.

In hand-to-hand combat, his hands will be able to inflict gruesome wounds, and he will engage in fisticuffs as a last resort.

Inventory: Phylactery

Name: Grant Gospel/Ria Tsurara

Alias: Mika

Race: Human

Sex: Male/Female

Class: Exorcist

Equipment:
The Holy Bible.

Abilities:
Faith: Both are strong followers of Christ and as long as they believe Jesus is God, they are blessed with his love and mercy that endures forever. Their faith progresses from faith to faith through the practice of reading the holy bible daily. Faith is their energy reserves and therefore and equivalent to a Magician's mana and whatever terms is energy reserves labeled and called like how a ninja uses chakra. The premise of using faith is to cleanse iniquities because faith is holy so therefore Exorcist are given the power to kill demons and exorcise demons. An Exorcist's weapons are never carnal but spiritual.

Grant's powers are Faithblade and Passionblade. A near invisible sword that is mostly translucent in form and it is not physical but a spiritual sword. Faithblade is best described as Grant's faith taking in a form of a sword just like how a Mage shapes his or her mana into a sword.

Apart from Faithblade, Grant is able to add fire attribute into Faithblade which makes it entirely visible because Faithblade is shrouded in flames. With fire attribute added unto the blade, it is renamed Passionblade because the flame is colored gold and is twice as hot as the normal flame. Passionblade gives Grant offense which he lacks in Faithblade. Simply put that Grant is an ordinary Swordsman while using Faithblade but with Passionblade, he is a "Magical Swordsman" or a "Fire Bender wielding a sword".

Ria is the opposite to Grant's sword and fire for she wields the shield and the ice faith. Since she is an exorcist, her shield is also a translucent and near invisible and not carnal. She's able to use faithshield which is the equal of faithblade because neither can destroy each other. Ria is a lot smarter than Grant, she knows how to manipulate faith into different shapes and sizes.

Likewise she is able to expand, retract, throw and reshape her Faithshield. Apart from Faithshield, she is able to add ice attribute into faithshield which makes her faithshield cold but not frostbite levels. Ria is able to separately use ice from her faithshield and manipulate into different forms and sizes as a contrast to Grant who just knows how to spam it in blasts.

Grant is the offense while Ria is a balance between offense and defense but dominantly prefers defense.

ONE: At any normal circumstances they cannot separate otherwise Grant will die. Ria is doing all her best to keep him alive. As one body, Grant is fine for the time being just as long as they don't separate. However, both struggle for control. To put it simply, their appearance changes based on who is control at the moment. Whoever is in control, the other is not shut down but simply a conscience that is yearning for control and goodly enough acts as a guide. They can't use their abilities in a synchronized manner in this form unless frenzy triggered

Fighting Style:
Both are Elite Middle Class Exorcists by standards of Theoearth.

Grant prefers to use swords while Ria prefers to use ranged weapons. As Mika they are a combination of both but barely because that depends on who is in control and their state of mind. The former is a master of One Sword Style and the latter is a master of throwing. When Ria is in control, she prefers to fight long range and launch projectiles while in Grant's control he goes up close. Both are equally strategists but Grant prefers to use offense more whereas Ria uses creativity.

It can become confusing because one wouldn't know who is who because it depends on whose soul is in control of whose body. For example if Grant's soul is in control of Ria's body, he will still sound like Ria.

Overall, their performance is still the same as One Being. This however changes in Frenzy.

Personality:
When as one, it is easy to be lead into confusing situations because both sometimes struggle for control and the vernacular term that is best to describe Mika(The alias of this One Being) is Tsundere, a Japanese slang coined meaning of hot and cold. As a matter of fact, they are like fire and ice when one of them becomes dominant; Grant is an idealist and is willing to put others before himself and proactively helps with burning passion but has common sense when things are out of line whereas Ria is a realist and level headed who always plans ahead with sheer coldness of thinking. As Mika, it is different because it is tricky since either of the two's soul will be dominant to take control of the active body, for example; Ria's body but with Grant's soul in control etc.

Bio:
Universe: Theoearth
Theo Mundus or Theoearth is the universe where Grant and Maria belongs to, it is an alternate earth where theocracy is the origin and law; a universe where Exorcists of God defends Paradise Meteora(One of the main capitals from a certain country, amalgam of Israel-Japan-USA-Philippines-China-Russia-UK. Country is called Meteora and its capital is Astoria.) from the forces of Lucifer and any form of corruption. In this earth or rather world, the laws are rather similar to a degree compare to the original earth which is called "Uno Mundus" meaning Earth 1 but this world is where all supernatural seems little or not normal but normal is just an illusion because what's not normal to witness and enact for most earths in this world is normal. For starters, this is a world of Christianity and where Christianity reigns but it's not a paradise because no matter what legend, belief, stories, space and time -- God and Lucifer who are believed to be beings outside of time are always at odds.

Indeed, Theoearth as much as it seems like paradise is always at war, many people question God's will and while they know God exists; people like every other earth never cease to sin and so these sinners easily fall at the hands of Lucifer. Having supernatural abilities is normal because God Jesus is alright with it as long as it does good than bad. There are countless forbidden types of power in this world, one of the foulest would be black magic but foulest of them all would be Space Time Travel. In this world, those who commit time travel are sentenced to Hell as it is an atrocious sin, the epitome of all selfishness and it is extremely blasphemous to the eyes of Jesus.

This is Grant and Maria's origin story.........

During the Sevenfold Blood War, Christ was struck by the Spear of Longinus aka as The Spear of Destiny which struck him before on the cross of chivalry and he just disappeared thus leaving Theoearth at Lucifer's merciless reign. Both flee and Grant's body is nearly devastated which lead Ria use a high level faith spell and together they fused as one being.

Wish: To save Theoearth from the hands of Satan.

Echo: Satan ruling Theoearth.

Appearance:
"NONSTOP SWITCH!"



Frenzy:
|TRUE ONE|
They can now use their abilities in a synchronized manner which makes it more effective.

Inventory: Phylactery

Other:
Upon agreement of Lub and Indra the maker of the character itself. By my statement, this character is Fairy Tail's Gray Fullbuster's level of power in IC regardless if Grant akin to Natsu, still Gray level w/o DeS as well as Ria, both are equally Gray's level of power:

From what I can glean, I think you're aware of this, but just in case I'll clarify: existing characters that belong to companies or individuals as intellectual properties are not usable in this RP. I assume you're asking about those characters to get an idea of what power level you should strive for. Having watched -and regretted wasting so much time on- Fairy Tail, I would say that Gray's average power level from the first arc up until the END arc would be acceptable. Defensive and offensive Ice Make, with the chief strength being versatility and creative application over raw power, would gel pretty well with the RP. However, I would definitely exclude Ice Devil Slayer magic from this.

Space suit: Covered head to toe in some kind of armor/hazmat suit. This white metal offers a small amount of protection to physical injury but is more important for is re-breather and fire retardant properties. It is designed to ensure he is not injured by experiments he has neglected that suddenly explode some where off in the distance, protecting him from shrapnel, fires and toxic gases caused by the failure. In this regard it works rather well. Most of the time.
unstable experiments: these act as grenades or timed explosives. When they go off they cause all manner of effects, from simply exploding to freezing the surrounding area, showering the area with glitter, releasing poisonous or corrosive gases, dumping oil over the floor or releasing an entire bouncy castle that inflates in an instant.
tools: they have an almost unlimited supply of wrenches, hammers, screwdrivers and other more exotic tools which they use when working.


Genius Tinker: Capable of making impossible contraptions and advanced machinery from the most innocent of materials.
Small and agile: about half the size of an average human Jokaero is surprisingly fast and nimble for his size and is able to climb around and fit into tight spaces. All this allow him to be a very slippery individual, keeping up with him is like trying to capture a very excited monkey.


By no means a dedicated fighter Jokaero works by hit and run tactics. Or more specifically invent and run: they will retreat from their foe, make some kind of contraption from a weirdly shaped robots (examples), to a highly unstable plasma cannon or an elaborate trap that has with a lot in common with a Rube Goldberg mechanism. Jokaero will generally stick around to see how his invention does for a little while but once it looks like the foe is getting the upper hand(or he simply gets bored) he will slink of to a new spot and start on something new. If caught without an invention they will hurl whatever unfinished prototype they have at hand at them and try to escape in the following calamity. Basically hapless without his inventions as he is physically weak, he will gladly offer his services in exchange for his life.


Curious, analytical, and inquisitive, Jokaero is an inventor and experimenter at heart. No theory – or machine – is so perfect that it couldn't be improved with a bit of tinkering; new discoveries come both in great leaps and in tiny increments. And, occasionally, violent explosions.

That last part is due to his recklessness, willing to try anything to see what it does coupled with a general regard for his or other's safety. He also lacks focus, drifting from one project to another or simply wandering off from a chemical reaction to go test another experiment that just completed.

When spoken to he is absent minded and easily distracted, he will switch from topic to topic seemingly at random, will show occasional fascination with what someone is saying and then begin to ignore them a few moments later. Ultimately interacting with him is the same as his work, frustratingly complex and incoherent, the work of a genius and a madman spun together only now in verbal form.


The only source of information on Jokaero's origins is Jokaero himself, and he is an incredibly inconsistent on the topic whenever it comes up. He has claimed to be: an mutant resulting from a nuclear detonation, an alien who was banished to earth after he blew up his planets moon, the reason the city of echos is the way it is or just a guy in a weird suit. At this point it is assumed he is rambling and trying to get people to stop asking him.

As a result nobody's entirely sure where Jokaero is from, he simply appeared in the city of Hekim 4 years ago and first came to the attention of the local authorities when he rebuilt a police car to run on the power of a miniature nuclear reactor in under 5 minutes. After the resulting contraption left the stratosphere he was arrested, then forced to work for the government's r&d department. The laboratory he was assigned to survive an incredible 2 weeks before it was sucked into a parallel dimension. Jokaero only survived because had had left to get ice cream while the experiment was ongoing. It is not entirely clear how he was intending to eat said ice cream if that even is what he was going to do with it.

From that day forward Jokaero was an ongoing pest to the city and has left a permanent mark on the city. Literally in the case of his non removable spray paint that he uses to write researches on the closest available surface. While these notes have allowed several advances in science that are all public domain, the resulting experiments are at best a nuisance and at worst a threat to public safety.

Some observers have noted a small pattern in Jokaero's madness however, and that is that he keeps trying to make/recruit assistants. Androides, undercover news reporters, mutants, clones and cocky scientists have all worked alongside him, but inevitably been destroyed, kicked out or simply forgotten about. Nobody can keep up with the mad inventor and so to this day he works alone, his inventions fascinating and horrifying the world at large.


For the perfect research assistant. Himself! Jokaero's desire is the ability to create perfect clones of himself, something he has as of yeat failed to even get close too. Any duplicates he makes lack the creative spark that allow his inventing, so he hopes that the machine can solve this quandary. If it doesn't he will simply take it apart.


A back alley, filled with junk and experiments, the walls covered in complex equations and diagrams written with spraypaint. The area is incredibly dangerous, weird and unstable devices are liable to explode at the slightest poking, robots come alive and attack or start performing random tasks. Yet in this dangerous environment the foolhardy might find some machines or inventions that won’t expel poisonous gasses in their face when used and be rather impressed with its capabilities.



Jokaero activates an emergency teleport, getting him out of the current situation. From his new location he begins to churn out carvers: dangerous warbots that are about 50% taller than the average human. Unlike the rather slapdash or chaotically designed bots he normally makes these machines are deadly efficient at their task. Rather well armored and armed with advanced railguns, unending hordes of these machines will emerge from his hiding spot and march towards their enemy, relentlessly pursuing them and utterly dedicated to protecting the now obsessed Jokaero, who will not stop making carvers till he is physically restrained or the frenzy comes to an end.


phylactery

Name: Tyrant Sgrogbraogg Gaintbreaker Wallcrusher Mountaineater Drakedestroyer Gatecrasher Hoardmaster All-Maw the Large and Strong
Alias: Tyrant
Race: Ogre
Sex: Male
Class: Giant

Equipment:

• Sound Eater - Constructed by the finest slaved empire engineers, forged by the finest armors of slain dwarf kings, and enchanted by dozens of the greatest Slaugtermasters. Sound Eater is not merely a weapon of mass destruction, it is built to be a weapon to change wars with its booming burst of cannon fire echoing across the land. This massive cannon fires out ridiculously large balls of iron that are generally meant to destroy several large buildings, crumble the greatest of armors, and even pierce through titans themselves if they were not extinct. However, it is still only a cannon making reload times extremely long making it a one shot item in most cases if fighting one-on-one fights.
• Giant Eater - A two-handed club, almost as big as the Tyrant himself, is his to-go weapon to slay any foe that dare stands before his path. Giant Eater is a club completely made of bone, but not any common bone, it is made from the bones of the long slain Skytitans that the ogres of past had slaughtered and feasted upon centuries ago. This material is nigh unbreakable, the sheer size and weight of the weapon makes its power a sight to behold as it crashes through the toughest of flesh and strongest of metals like if the world around it was sand.
• Beast Eaters - Twin gauntlets, these iron fists aren’t meant to protect his hands, but to merely add more mass to his punches with some added tricks. On each fist, there are ogre-sized bear traps that are meant for Mournfangs, beast that even scare ogres with its iron skin and tenacious spirit. Also, to boot, the chained Beast Eaters can be ejected violently out of the gauntlet to provide a constant threat of being clamped by these body mutilating contraptions.

Abilities:

• Ogre Physique: Being a 16-foot tall man-eating monster has its perks in combat. On the outside, it's deceptive blubber is unintentionally used as a shock absorber making blunt attacks mostly useless with their thick rock-hard skin. On in the inside under all that fat is pure muscle, this muscle is able to carry along hulking bodies and absurdly heavy equipment making a mere flick most likely fatal to an unarmored human.
• Bizarre Amount of Speed: Being these lumbering fat beast, most people assume that these Ogres are well… Slow and lumbering fat beast. However, their large structure allows them to take humongous strides allowing them to provide faster movement, and once they actually put some effort into their speed at max they can run almost as fast as horses but is heavily draining on the body if used at a constant rate.

Fighting Style: First of all, Sound Eater is either used at the start of the fight for surprise and fear from the sheer power of the weapon or used at the end for the final attack and the cherry on top of mutilated destruction. The rest? Tyrant simply does what he does best, run in and fuck the shit out of some people be it entire armies or a single combatant. He uses his size and strength at all times, swinging his weapon and firing out twin chain-linked bear traps to constantly keep their close to mid range opponents from thinking or planning without losing a limb or two if they pause once during the fight. The sheer destruction that one brings is quite awe-inspiring or ultimately terrifying as well depending on which side you're on. In general, Tyrant makes a strong start in battle and just increases his strength and his fighting spirit throughout the entire battle until his enemies and surroundings are splattered all over himself and his weapons. However, it is to be noted that besides Sound Eater, Tyrant carries no sort of perfected long range attacks making him succitible to heavy long range fire across his relativily unarmored body which relys completly on just his rock-hard skin.

Personality: Ruthlessness incarnate that constantly flamed by his overwhelming power. Tyrant is a boisterous leader of his tribe, looking for the next fight to tenderize and feast upon the supple flesh of his enemies. As for his position amongst his men, Tyrant simply can’t let himself lose a battle at any point, the moment an ogre smells weakness in their leader are soon to be eaten alive by their own men in trial by combat. All the while as Tyrant seems to be a giant brute that only cares about violence and food, which all in all represents the ogre race, but he is decently cunning as he is able to trick opponents with their preconceived notions of his base appearance and personality. With everything, Tyrant is a power hungry brute that will crush, peel, and eat anything that tries to get in his way with his sheer brute strength and cunning yet brutal mind.

Bio: Sgrogbraogg was born into the world as a meek little baby, merely 3 feet tall out of the womb and was most likely to die from either neglect or being eaten by other bigger children. Fight, eat, and survive. This basic mindset from the ogres have provided them a section of the world as their old homeland has been ravaged by the Great Maw, an unending hole of flesh and teeth that is rumored to end at the other side of the world! Well, anyway, Sgrogbraogg was born weak and was treated as such, the little ogre did have enough strength to survive the lethal roughhousing of others his age but not enough to be at the top of the vicious food chain. This lasted throughout the rest of his meek life, the nomadatic race moving from place to place pillaging, ransoming, and destroying villages and castles with Sgrogbraogg’s tribes one of the best at these monsterous actions. This meant that these ogres constantly battled against strong opponents, be it defending armies, attacking armies, or simply other tribes trying to absorb them in their own large nomad tribes. With all these battles meant more dead bodies to eat, from both sides, and used their tasty meat to grow stronger and bigger than other ogres!

Back to Sgrogbraogg, even though he was average size and girht of a normal ogre, he was still considered small to the rest of the greatly above average ogres. He was still bullied by others, weakness emitted from the poor Sgrogbraogg which meant everyone could smell the meat on his weak bones. Even still he managed to survive, but like all ogres he didn’t simply want to survive, he wants to be stronger than anyone else to boss around and lead for great feast after hard-fought battles! This was the way of the Ogre Kingdoms, and Sgrogbraogg’s current path would never let himself be at the top of his tribe until one fateful day at one of the Great Feast to the Great Maw.

The entire tribe was celebrating, raw meat, cooked meat, ogre meat, human meat, bones, horse meat, and any other meat across the land was being eaten at the feast in honor of the endless hunger of their God, the Great Maw. The past Tyrant was telling tales of his past victories and how the enemy tasted afterwards, Slaugtermasters were cooking up boiling meals of sorcery and meat for the entire tribe, and once again Sgrogbraogg was simply in the background of the giagantic monsters. He was black and blue ike usual, boiling up to the point that if he could would eat and murder his way to the top if given the chance, but no Ogre can just grow strong like that and no other ogre can grow strong if never put into an actual fight like in Sgrogbraogg’s case. Everything wasn’t coming up his way, this was until one of the Slaughtermasters left their cauldron unattended as they chased after overstuffed goblins that escaped from their cage. This left a tantalizng mixture of unstable magic which enticed the young ogre to try something new for his tastebuds. Shoving others away, gripping his hands on the flesh meltingly hot cauldron, he lifted the unstable sludge of magic, meat, and blood into his mouth as he chugged the entire mixture into his belly. Normally, this magical sludge created by Slaughtermasters are usually watered down with meats to the point where possibly exploding randomly wouldn’t happen, but with this chugging of this magic concoction it meant that most likely Sgrogbraogg would explode in a manner where only his blood would remain of his sad little life. However, it seemed the the winds of fate had something else for the aspiring ogre as in a horribly painful growth suddenly grew into one of the strongest ogres of his tribe! Everyone attending was flabbergasted at the sight of the tiny ogre managing to grow with an unstable meat mixture into a great and powerful ogre! “You!” Sgrogbraogg yelled at the leader of the tribe, “I challenge you for control over the tribe! To the Maw-Pit!” Silence continued, this was all until the screams of cheers of a maw-pit fight to end the Great Feast would be the perfect end of the night.

Sgrogbraogg challenged the past Tyrant, both moving into the fight of the death inside of the Maw-Pit. Ogres surrounded the caged arena, jeering and cheering at the combatants as only one leaves the arena with a stomach full of their opponent. It didn’t take long before the two giants clashed, meeting bare fist into each other as they tried to grapple, pin, and bite into the tough flesh and skin of their race. The current Tyrant was the leader for a reason, overpowering Sgrogbraogg in the beginning, but this newly acquired body was simply not only as strong as the Tyrant but stronger as the magical meat sludge made it superior to normally gained strength! Suddenly, Sgrogbraogg with his new strength broke the Tyrant’s defense, ripping off an arm cleanly with their teeth and the weakness was now being emanated from their leader. In a roar of strength, the Tyrant tried a last ditch attempt to bite off the head, but found it was reversed as the charging attack was tripped by Sgrogbraogg and the exposed back of the neck was ripped into pieces. So, as time passed, after the entire tribe watched Sgrogbraogg eatting the Tyrant, in a mouthful of guts screamed out to the tribe, “I AM TYRANT!”

Wish: Simple. The power to conquer the Old World.

Echo: The Maw-Pit, the start of all Tyrants. Dirt soaked blood cover the cracked and chipped stone floor, screams for murder deafen the ear drums, and the caged arena is meant for only one person to exit the age old tradition.

Appearance:


Frenzy: The Great Maw flows through Tyrant, the embodiment of his all-eating God takes over his body to a horrifying manner. Bottomless mouths dot across his body, pulsating unending tubes of darkness lined with sharp and jagged teeth mean for a horrifyingly painful end if ever sucked into its mouth. The main event is placed within his gut, remove the gut-plate, this reveals a giant unending mouth of teeth that swallows anything that nears it. With this horrifying appearance of his God, the Great Maw fills Tyrant with even greater strength and the ability to regenerate wounds at an incredible rate.

Inventory:

• Phylactery

Name: Squishy

Alias: The Enchanting Ooze

Race: Chaos Slime

Sex: Female

Class: Apothecary

Equipment: Squishy carries an apothecary's kit, which contains a couple of tools, including a keychain-esque ring of little bowls and bottles, though its most notable element by far is the Bag of Holding the rest of the items are tied to. The Bag, a pocket dimension used for storage, contains an entire living room's worth of space, much of it occupied by various herbs and medicinal plants, though it also contains a tub that Squishy sleeps in, as she can enter her own Bag of Holding. The plants she carries, as well as the concoctions made from them, have a massive host of potential effects, from healing to sedative to poisonous. Some examples with combat applications include mushrooms with spores that cause uncontrollable laughter, explosive fruit, flytraps, and firesticks

Abilities: While possessed of no special magical abilities, Squishy's greatest asset is her body itself. Being a slime, Squishy has no vital parts and can just pull herself back together from any injury, making her almost completely immune to physical damage, pain included. Projectiles and strikes alike can simply pass through her without causing any harm, and she has no weak point. That said, she can still be pushed around and such. Squishy can stretch, contort, and expand her body in any way she pleases; she's essentially amorphous. She cannot change mass, however, and while she can loosen or tighten body cohesion to change size somewhat, it changes her overall density. Consuming solids and especially liquids add to her overall mass, giving her more material to work with, but immersion in water can destroy her. Her slime body renders her vulnerable to certain elemental effects, and most energy or magic-based attacks work just fine. In theory, she's a shapeshifter, but she's very bad at it and has essentially locked in her current form. She can only change her clothes, which are in fact layered, filmlike extensions of her body

Fighting Style: While primarily a melee fighter, Squishy has painfully little actual combat skill, evident in her most basic attack: flailing her stretchy arms around like whips. Her main 'strategy' is to rely on her physiology to tank any attacks that come her way until she gets lucky or manages to wear the opponent down, as her damage and speed aren't great. That said, she has a slew of tricks she can use. She can: extend her arms to punch from a distance, or compact her limbs into hard lances to use for stabbing, liquefy a limb or a portion of her body to send it across the ground or through cracks in order to send out spikes or punches at unexpected angles, bulk up a part of her body to physically strike with, and then extend it on contact to act as a sort of spring, stretch herself straight up or collapse into a puddle, use her arms and hair to attack with several slime 'tentacles' at once, hide in her Bag of Holding, flop onto or throw herself at opponents, or simply engulf them. Her slew of potions and herbs can also come in handy in numerous ways, such as making primitive traps or disabling enemies. Her 'ultimate technique' is one that she uses rarely simply because she considers it disgusting, which is to enter an enemy's body -often through inflicted wounds- and tear her opponent up from the inside out. Indeed, while her awkwardness and lack of skill can come across as endearingly crap, she can be quite vicious and deadly

Personality: Made without any kind of predetermined traits, Squishy was allowed to develop her personality for herself, and as a result is a rather impressionable and inconsistent mind. While not obsessively curious, she has a habit of steadfastly observing anything that catches her interest. Interaction can come pretty tough to her; because of her somewhat sequestered upbringing, she's been around the same people her entire life, and is likely to come across as weird and overbearing to anyone new. Given the vastly different alignments of those who surrounded her, she has no real moral compass, and can therefore do very kind or very cruel things, though she is not naturally inclined toward either. That said, pain or determination can push her to dangerous fits of violence. When in conversation, she may inadvertently expose her naivety, though she's learned from Carreau himself to cover up her awkwardness with good-natured laughter. She lacks confidence, direction, and ultimately intelligence, relying on those around her to guide, support, and think for her, and she's aware of this, too. Her deepest worry is other people believing her to be useless and stupid, so she often tries to be helpful and nice. However, she is no longer depressive, and has better learned to deal with her doubt. Somewhat aware of her own attractiveness, she is usually inclined to bashfulness, except around Carreau, who she'd made several laughably embarrassing attempts to flirt with

Bio: Squishy was brought into existence in an otherworldly place called the Deadbeat Sky, a fortress situated on the back of a gargantuan crow, eternally aloft. It was the bastion of a group of extraordinary individuals known only as the Brumble Bunch, a collection of misfits from across the world, each completely unique but all in command of great power. Once thought to be merely human, they transcended the realm of man after saving the world from a great evil, only to turn to conquering themselves. They wrecked havoc as they pleased, growing more powerful than ever, but the cycle continued. New heroes arose and defeated them, and the Brumble Bunch resigned itself to the sky. There, they worked on the fortress and created guardians, raiding other dungeons and defending theirs from invaders. Eventually, almost all of the great beings had made guardians, enough to form the Deadbeat Sky's Armada. However, the great beings began to lose interest. In quick succession, its members disappeared. Only one remained: Carreau, the 'Skydiving Prince of the Air', Squishy's creator.

The first being to be created without personality imprinting, Squishy began as a blank slate, and under Carreau's watchful eye she began to develop. She learned from those around her, including but not limited to the one who made her. How to talk came quickly, but how to interact took longer. Not the most sociable or ordinary crew, the Deadbeat Sky's denizens dismissed her initially,. Some, confronted time and time again by her bothersome behavior -such as messing with their belongings- taught her the harsh reality of pain. After a while, though, many more or less took her under their wings. Margot, a wolfskin, endeavored to teach her how to brawl, but came away exasperated by Squishy's lack of talent. Frolic, a woodland sprite and the Armada's main healer, acquainted her with plants and remedies made from them; Oedin, the incorrigible eldritch scholar, helped her realize that herbs and potions could do all sorts of nasty things as well. Additionally, it was he who was responsible for her current form; for a long time, she had no distinct form of her own, instead mimicking those she came cross, but after exaggeratedly mimicking a woman named Silkie, Oedin jokingly told her that Carreau would like it if she remained that way. When he found out, Carreau was mortified.

Squishy continued to learn and develop, becoming a valued member of the bizarre community. Her interest in the duties of an apothecary became her passion, and she even became passable at fighting. Understanding the pain and sorrow of the others for losing their own creators, she devoted herself wholeheartedly to the one who brought her into being, hoping that her loyalty and affection would keep her master from leaving her too. His departure is her greatest fear, and has convinced herself that without him and the others, she's nothing at all. Anxiety plagued her, blinding her to the support of her fellows, and the repressed affection of her creator. After a time, Carreau could bear her depressive lack of self-worth no longer and gathered the entire Armada to recognize her as a beloved friend and companion. Squishy would never forget that day and how happy it made her, and it convinced her that she was in love. Emboldened by the realization that Carreau would never abandon Deadbeat Sky as his own friends once did, she embarked on a new mission: to earn Carreau's love through some great deed.

Wish: To reunite the great family that once inhabited Deadbeat Sky by bringing back the other great beings, and in doing so to win the love of Carreau

Echo: The Deadbeat Sky in its entirety

Appearance: The Enchanting Ooze, her current body the product of her own idealization of form, confidence that her master likes it, and the suggestion of other members of the Armada

Frenzy: Consumed by the image of her creator's face, and the knowledge that she would rather die than fail him, Squishy turns from her usual rosy coloration to vivid scarlet and grows protrusions across her body evocative of flame. Her speed and tenacity increase dramatically, and her composition shifts to 'chaos flame', a gelatinous form of fire that burns faster and more painfully than acid, and can also set ordinary fires, on contact

Inventory: A Phylactery

Name: Hajji Serhan Güzelemöglu
Alias: The Sultan's Own Favorite / Hajji Serhan / The Bashibozuk
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Class: Hitman

Equipment:

-Various Tools - Hidden under his wool cloak are a large variety of tools, most of them intended for killing, such as: garrotes, knives, garrotes with knives, miniature crossbows, tiny guns disguised as clocks or cigarette cases, smoke bombs, flashbangs, frag bombs, flares, steel wires of various thickness, blowpipes, nails, brass knuckles, a grappling hook and two yataghans.

-Body Armor - There is light amount of steel armor under his clothes: a breastplate, a pair of armguards and a pair of leg guards. Just good enough to protect him and just light enough to still be quick and agile.

-Four revolvers - Two of them attached to his armguards on sliding bars and hidden in his sleeves, two more in hidden inside his leg guards for situations that involve getting cornered and requiring the element of surprise.

-Utility belt - Even more tools, including a hammer, a measuring tape, a compass, a telescopic spyglass and a clock. Serhan is always far too ready for absolutely everything.

Abilities:

-Born Footpad - He started off his life of crime with petty theft in the busy streets of Istanbul. Through this he has earned sleight of hand and silent feet, even with the weight of all these tools - he stole from blacksmiths in broad daylight and nobody noticed until minutes after he was gone.

-What if? - His tendency to overanalyze things has brought him both good and bad things - as an ability, it allows him to predict many things about his enemy and helps him with ideas for both traps and failsafe mechanisms for those traps. However, there is a chance this can also be his greatest flaw - on the event that he asks himself "What if?" one too many times, his system of traps might get too complicated and either nothing will work or he will injure himself instead of doing anything to his enemy.

-Knack for Engineering - His work as a hitman required of him a knack of engineering - this has helped him one or two times in quickly figuring out the weak spots of mechanical foes, and it might somewhat help him here in the Crucible, too.

-Cheap Shot - He will do anything, including cheat, in order to get to his final goal. He knows exactly when to throw sand into his opponent's face or when to hit them in the loins.

Fighting Style: As mentioned above, Serhan's usual preparations before a battle are stalking the enemy, in order to plan out a strategy and then set up traps - a large, complicated mass of it, sometimes even too complicated to work as intended. He tends to make these elaborate plans to cheese his way through a battle, I.E. constantly combat rolling around the enemy into specific, previously choreographed spots, where they will trigger a system of wires intended for detonating flashbangs and fragmentation bombs into their face. Serhan is never unarmed - as evidenced by the cloak filled with various manhunt utensils, he always has a tool in hand to put to use in order to hit the enemy in just the right spot, once again as part of a plan he had hatched beforehand.

Personality: The physical embodiment of schadenfreude. He is very cruel to his enemies and has no remorse for his victims - be it a man whose death would bring him many riches or a man simply marked for death, he will kill them. He will kill them in the most gruesome and elaborate way he could think off the top of his head - not only to make sure he's really dead, but for the sake of showmanship. He never shies away from manipulating and exploiting people's emotions to turn the tide of battle in his favor.

Bio: All that is worth knowing about his past is that he was born in 1818 and raised in the bad parts of Istanbul. His elaborate heists and the many different ways he killed several high-class people were noticed by then-sultan Abdülmedjid I, so he and his gang were hired. They have been sent on many different missions by the Sublime Porte and the Sultan himself ever since.

Wish: His only wish is gold, more gold, wealth and material possession. His greatest wish is to be second only to the Sultan in terms of material wealth.

Echo:



Appearance:



Frenzy:



Fire blazes from Serhan's eyes, nostrils and mouth. His veins glow an ambery orange. He begins feeling so much pain that he gets into a state of blind rage and eventually doesn't feel anymore. Increased strength, speed and pain resistance, although he is much more vulnerable to actual damage. His thirst for blood grows tenfold, occasionally shouts praises to his sultan and Allah and is fully willing to just throw everything he has at the enemy despite any damage he could inflict to himself, I.E. using a long, sharp steel wire as a makeshift whip but cutting open gaping wounds on his back, his ribs and the really just the rest of his body.

Inventory: Phylactery

Name: Ms. Michelle "Shelly" Dunnst
Alias: Garbage
Race: Metahuman
Sex: Female
Class: Dynamic Paradigm Consultant
Equipment: Accordion, Mini Speakers, Ultrabright LED Torches, Empty Vials, A sharp knife.
Abilities:

High Social Intelligence: Shelly reads people's feelings like children's books. In conjunction with conversation she is capable of gleaning a lot more information than most.

Sensory Persuasion: Sensing Shelly induces Synesthesia, causing temporary changes in perception, tastes and opinions of the sensor. The intensity of the perception correlates positively with the magnitude of change. For example, passively gazing at or listening to Shelly offers little to no change after a short period of exposure. However the feeling of Shelly against your bare skin has the chance to drastically alter current priorities and occasionally warp perception of reality. Its thought that Shelly gives off an "aura", a complex array of sensory information at all times (even when trying to do nothing), including but not limited to visual cues, pheromones, voice modulations, tactile stimuli and secretions in sweat that induce over stimulation and under stimulation in both the sensory and memory section of the brain leading to temporary changes. These changes start off as quite random, however Shelly tunes herself unconsciously becoming more better and better at controlling the experiences she induces in those paying attention to her. It is unknown what effect Shelly has on those with extrasensory abilities, although the link between intensity of the sensing and amount of change to tastes and opinions is likely to hold true.

Fighting Style: Pacifist. Entirely unskilled in combat. Prefers talking it out.

Personality: Bold, independent and verifiably the best taste in fashion known to man, Shelly is a force to reckoned with. She's by no means a genius but doesn't often find herself outwitted. She's very curious and novelty seeking, taking large interest in very niche things. Shelly possesses some athleticism acquired from many hours working out in the gym and as you might expect, is nowhere close to supernatural levels. Shelly's true strength relies on her ability to read the situation and read people, diffusing situations with her social skills, her patience and her compassion. Shelly's learned not to be shy, her behaviour has a more lasting effect on people than her powers do. She's a natural diplomat and if it weren't for her obsession with the stuff at the College, she would probably already climbing the political ladder in her country of origin. Everyone who has ever spent time with Shelly would tell you she was absolutely charming, in a slightly odd way, but certainly a delight to be with. Shelly is very open with others, deep down however, she still finds it tough to trust others, and more worryingly, this mistrust has always scaled with compatibility. The best way to describe how close she lets people get to her is "arms length", but you wouldn't know this until you REALLY pushed this boundary as she is well equipped to hide it.

Wish: To join the upper echelons of the Inquistical College.

Echo: The College Aquarium. Deep below the college foundries, chapels, office spaces and magi-tech facilities lies the Marine life observatory. Being so close to the City of Echoes, part of its transient nature leaks into water around it, producing a ever shifting underwater world filled with a biodiversity unseen anywhere else in this realm. This richness is collected, catalogued and studied. All creatures and plants are kept separate in a great living library until its believed it will play nice with everything else in the vast College Aquarium, which is complete with its own stunning black sand beach and weather. The bizarreness of some of the forms of life here is what draws Shelly in, looking at them and pondering it's weird existence gives Shelly a small impression of what it might be like to spend a lot of time in her company. Shelly doesn't truly have the intelligence to work long term in the Marine Biology department as a scientist, but her skill set has been nonetheless useful for the department on occasion.

Bio: Shelly's first experience of the college was a job as a temporary assistant to a Inquistical College Ambassador. On paper, all it was was shuffling documents, acquiring signatures and making sure the right people knew the right amount of the right stuff at the right time, and no earlier. In reality, Shelly had started her journey on the most complex, political game she had ever played. Not that she would notice until after her initial contract ended and she was thrust back into the ordinary. She'd only been there a 2 months to cover a staff member on sick leave but it took a whole year to really process what had gone on during the time she was there. The things she saw. The people she met. It was hard to tell, sat at her desk job in her dazed state whether it was a dream, or a nightmare, the only thing she knew is she had to see more. The hunger grew, which eventually inspired her to attempt to pull some strings. Shelly was in luck, they needed someone to do some clerical work, the game was on. Purging the souls of the damned from ancient artefacts wasn't much her thing but it was a step in the right direction and after a few weeks she was in charge of liaisons with other departments and department heads. Shelly hopped from division to division, implementing her talents in what ever way would take her upwards and show her more of the grotesque beauties that existed within the College walls. This all came to halt however, a few years after joining. Schmoozing with the right people was impossible because nobody seemed to even know where the right people were or what they even did, except they were the very reason the place the college stayed running and running efficiently. A glass ceiling seemed to separate her and the next rung, a glass ceiling she'd like to quantum tunnel through so that she could walk along its surface and have a look at what other wonderful things the College has to offer.

Appearance:
Shelly has curly shoulder length dark brown hair, usually tied up behind her right ear with an ageing, but still functioning, fluffy Miffy scrunchy. Exceptionally Dark brown eyes adorn her tan face, dark enough that without good light its tough to see where pupil ends and iris begins. An innocent button nose betrays her age, however her personality will set you straight again. At 5'3" she's a shorty but her high, wide hips give her legs the impression of length. Her training has toned her physique, but she's by no means muscular.

Garbage wears a black hooded cloak, which obscures physique and accordion entirely, and can be tied together to keep closed with a gold ribbon. The hood is large an makes it difficult to see that shes also wearing a superhero style domino eye mask and an earpiece with tiny microphone attached. Out from the bottom of the cloak you can just about make out a pair of combat boots. Underneath is Garbage's "supersuit", which is designed for maximum exposure without compromising on necessary protection. Garbage chooses to wear a white low cut boyshort leotard. Two red vertical stripes run up the suit and down the back. Her "utility belt" is little more than a bum bag decorated with red ruffles that contains some of her potent weapons.

Frenzy: Shelly loses control of her power, transmitting all her dreadful, insanity driven feelings to all others that are paying attention to her, forcibly. The sheer intensity of it leaving most of their sensory and memory faculties hugely impaired with garbage information, manifesting itself in experiences like hallucinations, blindness, deafness, false memories, amnesia, the sensation of slow time and out of body experiences. It also activates Frenzy in her victims.

Failing to obtain a soul returns her to previous state of control giving her back the ability to focus and tune, however she too is now a victim of her own powers and is just as liable to disable herself as she is others.

Inventory: Vessel

Name: Clotho

Alias: Slipstream Swarm Queen

Race: Dungeon Keeper

Sex: Female

Class: Lodestar

Equipment: Clotho's only piece of distinct equipment is a short flamberge. Its serrated edge allows it to shear through clothing and light armor and to saw into flesh, but Clotho primarily uses it as a thrusting weapon

Abilities: Most fundamentally, Clotho can fly, and she is fast. Her aerial speed and maneuverability are, to put it simply, beyond compare, though naturally her offensive and defensive abilities aren't too spectacular to compensate. Being lightweight, she takes very little impact damage if thrown or pushed into something, or if she happens to fall from a great height. In addition, she is an expert with her weapon, though its not the most versatile armament out there

Hidden in the wrist of her left arm is a little stinger. It's somewhat fragile, and not actually very sharp, and it's range is hilariously puny, but if it's able to inject its venom into an organism, the extremely volatile mutagen can scramble the body of the victim at random. The effects, being random, are hard to predict, but they're invariably hideous, turning the subject into a horrific abomination if enough mutagen is administered. A small dose could simply scramble, say, the left arm, but a sting that lasts a little longer can completely consume the victim. The process also typically scrambles the brain, if the mutagen reaches the head

As a Dungeon Keeper, Clotho commands minions. She only has three varieties to use. The first is the Myrmidons, the weakest and most numerous, which are soldiers with humanoid ant upper halves and ordinary ant lower halves, somewhat like centaurs. The second is the Antlions, which are large, brutish, simpleminded bugs the size of cars, with four large pincers used for digging, striking, clamping, or shielding. The second is the Lambent, giant fireflies that bombard opponents with explosive balls of napalm from their abdomens. Clotho cannot summon her minions; instead, they must be spawned at her dungeon

Fighting Style: Lodestars are the very stuff of legend, heroic swordsmen whose dancing blades shine with the majestic and everlasting light of the stars, and though Clotho as a malicious conqueror breaks the tradition's character, she upholds its breathtaking capability. Using her flight to soar through the sky and dart out of the way of attacks, Clotho specializes in a hit-and-run strategy. In any confrontation, her goal is to come away unscathed and deliver to her opponent a perfect execution. Her weapon, used as a probe, seeks an enemy's weak points on each pass, coaxing out hidden capabilities, and after Clotho feels she understands her foe and how to kill him, she will deliver her death blow. Of course, being a dungeon keeper, she seldom feels the need to fight fair. If at all possible, she will try to overwhelm or at least distract her opponent with her minions, and if a vulnerability presents itself she will attempt to inject her hyper-mutagenic venom into the opponent's system. If she manages to disable but not kill an enemy, she'll also take the chance to casually inject the venom

Personality: A unique specimen among Dungeon Keepers, Clotho is reserved and unflappable. Everything she says, from commands to final words, are delivered in a deadpan tone. Though she can get angry, she seldom shows it, and to her opponents she often seems to feel more pity than hate. Still, she is definitively set on the 'neutral evil' side of the alignment spectrum, and has no qualms about mutilating her enemies. In particular, she has a quiet but concerted interest in experimentation using her mutagens, and in toxins in general. Blunt, humorless, and brutally honest, she is nevertheless somewhat talkative and emotive, portraying her emotions in a subdued fashion. She may seem stupid, but if so, it's merely a front for her unique brand of cunning. Somewhat obsessive, she prefers to do things perfectly if at all, and favors a clean environment. In a fight, she has a habit of talking almost constantly, whether giving call-outs to her troops or to allies, giving information about her experiments, or critiquing her opponent's fighting style and moves. Clotho is a being who masks a great potential for evil with what is among monsters a highly professional and formal bearing.

Wish: That nobody could ever oppose her unless she wills it

Echo: Her dungeon. Known as the Forest King, this gigantic tree towered above the forest where it once lived, and when Clotho found it, she made it her home. Bit by bit she infested it with her hive, turning it from a living organism into a citadel, complete with spawning chambers for her minions. Pathways and stairways carved into the trunk and branches provide routes for non-fliers to move around, though the whole place is so secure against grounded enemies as to be practically impregnable

Appearance: Under normal circumstances, Clotho is a lithe humanoid with a carapace of raw umber color. Her carapace is ridged, with small ride spikes along her upper arms, elbows, and shoulders. This shell also somewhat resembles plate armor, though instead of metal it is made of shock-absorbing chitin, and while it is therefore both light and hard it sacrifices some cutting and piercing resistance. It extends up her neck and across the lower half of her face in a sort of mask, its ridges resembling fangs, but her eyes are exposed. They are compound, but the darker green around the edges with lighter green in the middle resemble normal eyes, albeit very shiny. Her hair resembles a blend between dreadlocks and antennae, cascading midway down her back, though while most of it is held back, two 'strands' bend forward over her face like actual antennae. All this, combined with clawed fingers and two-taloned feet, plus two pairs of dragonfly wings on her back, give her the appearance of an insect.

With her shell broken, her knotted maroon flesh is exposed. Her face is remarkably human this way, all the way down to ordinary teeth, though of course her eyes are unchanged. Though without many distinctive features aside from the inhuman lower leg and foot shape, her body has a rumpled texture, somewhat like that of a crab's flesh

Frenzy: Somewhat of a special Frenzy, Clotho's is triggered automatically after sustaining enough damage to her shell, provided she survives. All at once, she jettisons the remaining wreckage of her carapace, and her own chemical glands flood her blood vessels with stimulants. Clotho's speed increases to astronomical levels, enabling her to move so fast that not only does she appear close to teleporting, but fast enough that she leaves afterimages behind her. Her increased perception and control allow her to effectively use her own afterimages as duplicates, moving so quickly between two locations that she can essentially act from both at the same time. Her attack power is only increased as a function of force = mass * speed, but she remains a force to be taken very seriously, able to strike at heinous speeds from multiple angles at once

Inventory: Phylactery, Blister Pack

Name: Motley Crue

Alias: The Book Keeper

Race: Vampire - A human evolved beyond human limits.

Sex: Male

Class: Ripple Master/Stand User

Equipment: None; his own power is enough that additional weaponry is unnecessary.

Abilities:
Way of the Hermit - Before he became a vampire, Motley was a very talented Ripple user, capable of many feats that normal humans could only dream of performing. Nominally, his transformation into a member of the undead would negate the ability to use the Ripple as anything other than an elaborate suicide technique; with the development of his Stand, however, it has evolved into a form better suited to his current power type, a form of Dark Ripple if you will.
Vampirism - Motley's evolution into a vampire has brought him a variety of potential abilities that far surpass normal human limits, and that are only further enhanced by his resurgent Hamon power, boosting his strength and speed in much the same way it would for a normal human, as well as amplifying his vampiric abilities to quite a sophisticated degree. However, a tendency toward practicality means his power set is mostly focused on those aspects of vampirism which are useful in combat.


Fighting Style: Motley is very much a martial artist, having trained to use the Ripple for a great many years; he is technically skilled, albeit not as much as some others might be, and this skill is backed up with brutal power thanks to his vampiric strength, though he usually sticks to the most basic vampiric abilities of strength, speed, blood-sucking, and occasional zombification, as well as the passive powers of regeneration and enhanced senses, and his unique Stand-powered Dark Ripple. This is further acknowledged by a tendency to head for crafty maneuvers when raw power doesn't cut it, embodied in his "Lightning Mode": having established that normal Ripple users need to breath properly to use their Ripple, he has managed to modify and multiply certain nerve cells of his to generate a powerful electrical charge, something that can be applied in a great many ways:

However, his powers all have their respective weaknesses, and in a way prop one another up as a tripod: his Stand prevents his Ripple from damaging him, and in turn his Anti-Ripple constantly protects his vampiric body from the destructive effects of UV light and similar life-like energies on him. It follows that if his Stand for some reason cannot be kept out, or if his breathing pattern is disrupted to prevent him using the Ripple- hard to achieve against a vampire, but certainly not impossible- then his Ripple cannot be used, respectively burning him up from the inside or failing to function at all. In essence, he has put up shields against the sun's light, and removing even one leaves him as vulnerable as any other vampire, though in dark or shaded areas this still leaves him a capable superhuman threat.

Personality: In spite of the rather vile nature of his power, it is perhaps the very same power that allows Motley to maintain something resembling a degree of humanity - though he is at heart a vampire, with all that comes with it, he possesses an odd degree of empathy toward most of those he would normally consider prey, and so tends to target only the worse aspects of the human race when out for blood. Even so, he is cold in tone and dispassionate in deed, and markedly unrepentant not just for the killings he's performed both in self defense and cold blood, but for any and every aspect of his life, from his decision to become a vampire in the first place to his other choices both positive and not-so-positive; one of his major driving motivations is the ability to acquire more power, and his willingness to do nearly anything to acquire it makes him more than capable of developing tactics which are extremely difficult to predict, let alone counter once put into action.



Wish: Motley wishes to become the ultimate being, with power unlimited by the bounds of mere human flesh.

Echo: For many years, Motley has run a small-ish shop in New York, a combination of library and bookmaker's with a substantial oak aesthetic. The bookshelves scattered throughout reach above the heads of those browsing through them, filled with books and forming corridors that are mazelike, but not overly difficult to maneuver through, as well as enough room between the shelf tops and ceilings that an average-height man could walk along their tops. At the shop's center, a large round desk seats Motley himself, ready to check out and sell any books brought to him, and behind that, the bookmaking facility proper, replete with paper and ink for hand-printing, and printers ready to dole out page after page of material, plus glueing and binding facilities to finish the books off. Despite this, the friendly nature of the bookshop is for some people overpowered by a minor sense of foreboding - it seems vibrant enough, yet in a darker sense than most would associate with the word, and certain strong-minded folks may even consider that the floor is persistently coated in what seems to be a black mist or fog.

Appearance:


Frenzy: Though it is rare for Motley's emotions to overwhelm him, he can occasionally find himself enraged or otherwise highly aroused for some reason or another. When this happens, his phylactery dissolves his physical form, merging his mind into his Stand directly and unbinding it from the usual limits of its Range stat: where its power was originally limited to within a few meters, it is now free to spread nigh-indefinitely, crackling with Dead Ripple and shrivelling nearly anything in contact with it like acid, and lashing out at anything in range like a deranged tentacle beast.

Inventory: Phylactery - Does all that soul nonsense.
19. Device - "He giveth, and he taketh away" - Steals and replaces lights from a distance, completely containing them within the device.

Name: Prisilla Bront
Alias: Posse
Race: Human
Sex: Female
Class: Clone Army

Equipment:

• Double-Action Revolvers: Prisilla’s go-to weapon, these reliable six shooters have always found their way into a fight. With its powerful shots, the double-action design allowing the hammers to automatically cock itself allowing rapid fire, and does reliable damage at close to medium ranges against opponents.
• High Powered Pistols: A rare semi-automatic pistol, it is generally seen as one of the best weapons in her arsenal. It holds eight bullets per clip, the clip allowing faster reload times compared to manually reloading revolvers. The bullets are as well of a stronger caliber to the Double-Action Revolvers for more power between each rapid fire shot.
• Winchester Repeater: Another reliable weapon, this rifle holds ten rounds and reloads through a lever action system. The rifle, although is around the same power as the revolvers has the upside in being used at longer ranges for sharpshooting, it can also be fired at rapid rates but reload times can be a bit long.
• Buffalo Rifle: A weapon that you don’t want to be hit with, a single shot rifle that can only be used at long distances can burst a unprotected head into bloody bits. It is very strong, the single shot weapon can be reloaded quite easily as it is only a single chamber, but is only brought out in special occasions.
• Double-barreled Shotgun: A mean ass double-barreled shotgun, the reliable close ranged weapon that can launch the heaviest man a couple of feet backwards from its power. Being double-barreled it only holds two shells, the bullet spread although quite large can only do reliable damage in close range.
• Pump-action Shotgun: The newer models of shotguns, this one provides a much larger capacity which is able to hold up to six shells. The moderate fire rate is able to blast through heavy objects and flesh in a flash though reloads times compared to the double-barreled shotgun is quite long as it requires a larger amount of manually loaded shells.

Abilities:

• Dead-Eye: Powerful in the aiming department, Prisilla is most likely one of the best shots within her country. She is very dangerous with her weapons, her revolvers and rifles able to snipe with precise accuracy while in the midst of combat. In general, you don’t want to be standing around much with her sights on you.
• Athletic Ability: Though she isn’t on a superhuman scale, Prisilla can handle herself well in intensive activities. She is actually more on an olympic athlete scale, her well-trained body able to keep its relatively fast speed and quick reactions for long periods of time.
• Clone Magic: Prisilla’s natural ability, she is able to instantly create perfect clones of herself that appear at a maximum of five feet away from the original before moving on their own. She is able to create up to twelve of these clones, they generally think for themselves, but since they are all the same person they work together in perfect harmony. If clones take fatal damage or large enough sustained damage, they will poof out of existence and if the original is killed or knocked out all clones will poof at the same time.
• Requip Magic: A learned skill, Prisilla through intensive learning and training is able to summon weapons out of thin air, this ability can also be called upon by her clones. All weapons have been stated up in the inventory list, bullets are in high quantity which allows for massive amounts of firepower, and enough weapons to equip all twelve clones. If weapons are dropped by the user and not picked up for ten seconds, it will automatically return back into its separate space.

Fighting Style: Prisilla fights with precise overwhelming firepower from all directions at once. She will generally try to set up positions prior to battles from the start to easily take out enemies from every direction, but can work with unannounced and sudden fights as well. She will generally summon six clones during the first fights with the more reliable weapons at first to test the waters. If the opponent is competent, she will increase the number of clones up to twelve while using heavier weaponry to take down the opponent(s). You can find clones running and gunning and taking cover rapidly, not giving opponents much time to think with their constant fire. Teamwork between the clones is quite impeccable as well, able to formulate simple to average plans without saying anything to each other. However, like all mages, she has a limit to her abilities and can be inferred that the more times she uses her magic at a larger scale, the more power it drains from her body and subsequently makes her clone's combat abilities lessen. This makes her think of resource management during combat, more clones equals more bullets yet create lesser clones or less clones equals less gun fire but more accurate shots and faster reaction times.

Personality: As stubborn as a mule, Prisilla is a strong-willed individual with the tendency to be rather loud in and out of fights. She is a high spirited girl, rather active in most technically terms, her actions and voice loud and rambunctious. Still, Prisilla is never carefree despite her surface personality. She is highly perceptive of everything around her and makes constant notes and thoughts to make battle plans about her surroundings while acting like a teenager. When fights gets serious though, Prisilla isn’t as talkative or loud, she becomes calculating in her movements becoming rather a scary and efficient shooter with her clones able to make almost any opponent swiss cheese if they choose to do so if her opponents are too far gone within her terms of justice.

Bio: She’s a cowboy, pew pew.

Wish: Prisilla wishes to meet her family once again.

Appearance: At 5’11”, Prisilla is of average height of most of her peers but doesn’t seem to be imposing due to both her age and height. Still, she has a heavy tan around her well-toned body, dust and dirt cover both her skin and clothes, and although she doesn’t take care of her skin very well everyone is weirded out by her pearly white teeth. Beyond that she is average looking, well, below average looking due to her hygiene yet has an interesting eye color of emerald green that most people tend to notice about her first. Clothing wise, it is what you expect from the western denizen, collared shirt, brown leather vest, jeans covered over by leather chaps, boots, and even a little cowboy hat that covers her short but messy oak brown hair. However, the most interesting choice of her attire is gauze wrapped around one of her eyes covering almost of her of face in the soft white material.

Frenzy: In her frenzied state, Prisilla doesn’t change much appearance wise as the only thing that changes is her bandages start to turn into a crimson red color dripping in blood with a seemingly infinite source that doesn’t affect her performance. Psychologically, Prisilla becomes the person she hates most, a criminal. Her mind becomes twisted and sadistic, putting enough bullets in people to keep them alive and feel all the pain at once. In terms of power, she can produce nearly triple the amount of clones with no visible signs of exhaustion with enhanced strength and perceptive skills which make her generally an army to be reckoned with as her once noble posse is corrupted into a bloodthirsty gang.

Inventory:

• Phylactery

Name: Teru
Alias: The Unstoppable Mlem
Race: Dog (Unidentified Mix of Dog Breeds)
Sex: Female (although she insists Dog)
Class: Dog

Equipment: -Collar - Owner of Teru can attach their Phylactery to it.

Abilities: -Mlem of Life - Teru begins licking your wounds, healing all and any ailments. The amount of time she needs to lick them to fully heal you depends on how severe the wound is.
-Scratch the Ears - Boosts your energy and restores your sanity.
-Boop the Snoot - Touch her nose and she will sniff out the nearest supply cache for you.

Fighting Style: Although her bite is strong, Teru rarely ever actually fights. She will always cast her Mlem of Life at her owner if possible.
To become her owner, one must entertain her, play with her and bring her food and treats in order to gain her trust. If she is provoked in any way, she will bite. If her owner is defeated, the victor must gain her trust again.

Personality: When Teru first appears, she will be very shy and cautious of the participant who finds her - up until they gain her trust. Around her owner, she is a good, loyal and good mannered dog, but once an opponent is in clear sight, she will understand that as a threat to her current owner and will begin barking towards the enemy.

Bio: She was adopted by a few colleagues ever since she was a mere five days old. She has served the College as a sort of second mascot and loyal pet ever since.

Wish: "FOOD! and many big and cronchy bones! and plush toys and rubbery squeak-Orbs!"

Echo: A nice, richly embroidered soft couch in which she can relax, snooze and squish her snout. Around her is an incredible variety of different dog treats and many bones. In front of the couch stands a statue and altar of the diety of her choice, The Goodest Boy, Angel of Lemgth.

Appearance:


A slightly fat, mixed breed, medium size black and white dog. She wears a black leather collar on which one can attach their Phylactery.

Inventory: Your Phylactery