I'VE NO COLOR SO THE LEAST I CAN DO FOR YOU IS ENDURE ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ papi"Even someone with no past can wish for a future." oi26 FEMALE 157CM 61.2KG PINK BLUE ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
The head honcho of Lucema Regini by necessity. Miss Death, as she's known to the populace of Decibitus, may be the oldest existence in the city and is the reason why reapers exist. Miss Death is an anomaly unto herself between being the source of the weapon cores used to unmake souls and her complete inability to remember her life on Earth. Despite all this, Miss Death is well known through the city as a woman who is much kinder than her distant and aloof demeanor suggests. However, she's equally well known as someone it would likely be dangerous to cross, given that much of her free time is spent studying magic or combat in depth. She seems to understand that the average citizen is at least mildly afraid of her, so she largely keeps to herself. Unfortunately, that means her ability to express herself naturally is crippled, at best.
I'M AN ANGEL WITH A SHOTGUN FIGHTING TIL THE WAR'S DONE ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ papi"Leave your specifications on the desk and I'll get to it later." oi29 MALE 178CM 76.2KG PINK/BLACK GREEN ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
Miss Death's associate and the one who forges all reaper weapons, though he could stand to be a bit friendlier. He set up his workshop in Mulch one day and has since refused to leave it despite plenty of better places in the city. Unlike Miss Death, Uchi isn't very well known by the general population, and he doesn't seem to want to change that. Despite all that, he's actually very good at his job, and his weapons rarely ever disappoint. He claims to be an old friend of Miss Death's from when she was alive, but with her memory completely gone, there's nobody that can confirm or deny that statement. Still, he does seem to genuinely care about Miss Death and her well-being, which vaguely extends to her reapers. Just barely.
~♫ ~♫! ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ papi"Woof!" oi6 MALE 27CM 13KG TAN/WHITE BROWN ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
Mochi became the mayor of Decibitus through a write-in vote. It started as a joke, but four years later, and Mochi has not yet left office. His owner Elliot acts as his assistant (read: does the actual mayoral work).
I CAN MAKE SOMETHING GOOD OH SOMETHING GOOD. ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ papi"Just one thing left... what? I said that last week too?" oi31 MALE 176CM 72.6KG BLACK BROWN ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
Mochi's owner and who most consider to be the "real" mayor of Decibitus. Despite a fancy sounding official position, being the mayor's assistant doesn't actually grant Elliot any significant power. Instead, it just means that he gets saddled with looking over administrative work, which is mostly stacks of paperwork that have to be double-checked. He doesn't complain about it though, even after four years of Mochi being in office. All in all, Elliot is a pretty competent person who just does what he can to help out. It seems that he's getting ready to move on to the After with Mochi, but he keeps finding reasons to stick around. Does he really love his job that much or is it something else keeping him in Decibitus?
YOU ARE TOO MEDIOCRE TO UNDERSTAND ME, PERHAPS ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ papi"You seem to believe that I should be punished for my ambition." oi28 MALE 182CM 80.3KG RED GOLD ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
He's more of a boogeyman than he is an actual person at this point. Imprisoned deep within the Ligena Fati, the Necromancer has been the source of horror stories both on Earth and in Decibitus for ages. It's well known that back when he was alive on Earth, the Necromancer was known as the single most powerful user of his magic. He was nothing short of a genius, but his work and ethics weren't exactly on the morally upright side of necromancy. In the modern day, specific details about the Necromancer as a person aren't very well known. Most are only aware of his face and achievements because of history books on Earth. Everyone knows where he is though, especially given that reapers haven't succeeded in finding a way to unmake him yet--it's starting to look like an impossibility too.
SHINE A LIGHT IN THE DARK, LET ME SEE WHERE YOU ARE ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ papi"Don't forget to tell your boss 'hello' for me!" oi25 FEMALE 170CM 55.3KG BROWN BROWN ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
A denizen of the After currently in charge of overseeing the hand-offs of unmade remains from Decibitus's reapers to the After's processing center. She's only recently taken over the role, but she seems familiar with the duty. Kaihime seems to have a keen interest in the reapers and the happenings of Decibitus, but maybe that's a breath of fresh air from the usual no-fun-allowed types that work the Kiln.
You are free to format your character sheets and add additional information as you wish, so long as it includes the following at a minimum. Please feel free to run spells or bio things by me to know if they'd be okay.
✦ Name ✦ Age (appearance), actual age optional ✦ Gender, bio sex optional ✦ Faceclaim and/or physical description ✦ Weapon
✦ As opposed to a personality or bio section, I’m going to request that you do an in-character response to one of the following prompts:
✧ The way your character died (and thus entered Decibitus). Please be aware that all souls that enter Decibitus have significant personal reason(s) to not simply move through to the After. ✧ A brief excerpt of your character’s first job as a reaper or a job that impacted them significantly ✧ Your character has just been given the offer to become a reaper, what brought them to say “yes”?
✦ Magic Branch ✦ Magic
For the sake of balance, I’m going to give everyone Pokemon syndrome and limiting initial spells to 4 per character to start with. Please note that these are specifically significant spells that can be used for combat or have a massive effect in setting. Spells for day-to-day living do not have this cap. Spells in this list should be within the same branch of magic–if you tell me your magic is elemental, I want your spells to be elemental.
_______________________________________________ "Don't you dare come in here and tell me HR wants to talk again." ________________________________________
"Why should I be careful? What, am I gonna extra-die?"
Appearance
Maya is a decent height for a woman at 5'7", though she's usually boosted a bit taller with heels. She has a slim but shapely build, fair skin, and long, straight black hair. She prefers business casual style, preferring short skirts, stockings, and blouses. Her eyes are a dark wine colour, and her face, while very pretty, is often slack with boredom and mild contempt. When an unusual job comes up on the board, however, those eyes take on a dangerous, thrill-seeking glint at the prospect of some rare excitement.
Weapon
Maya wields a long hammer with an angled head, equipped on the reverse with a short bladed spike and combustive boosters that allow her to add some extra kick to a swing or directly blast an enemy. The boosters are controlled by a trigger on the shaft. From tip to tip, the hammer is about as long as she is tall. When not summoned, her weapon core is a tiny gem hanging from a narrow black choker.
Magic
Maya's field of magic is Cosmic, specializing in spells having to do with the manipulation of gravity.
Kounia - Maya's most commonly used spell, Kounia is a spoken spell that allows her to change the direction of the gravity affecting a person or object.
Opprimunt - A written spell that allows Maya to multiply the force of gravity in a designated area. Usually prepared in advance as a trap to impede enemies.
Gravis - Similar in effect to Opprimunt, Gravis is a spoken spell that affects only one target.
Duratus - A spoken spell which neutralizes gravity's effect on the target entirely. Maya is still working on this one; it'll take some tweaking of velocity as well as gravity to get it perfect, but the goal is to be able to use this spell to stop a fall. Currently only works on one target, but she's working on expanding it to multiple.
"How did you die?"
"Isn't that supposed to be rude to ask?
Whatever, I don't really care. It's a short and kind of bullshit story anyway. I was 22, your classic goody-two-shoes - came from a nice family, got good grades, didn't get pregnant before twenty, all that. Didn't really do much interesting; you know how it is, half of everyone you know tells you to get your crazy out before you're too old to party and the other half says that can all wait until you get your education and you're out on your two feet. I kinda split the difference; didn't party too hard but wasn't a loner or anything. Went away for school, joined a sorority. The usual.
Anyway. There I am, wasting my life studying for some bullshit physics degree, thinking I'll go have a real life once I'm done, and then - BAM! Meningitis. Like, are you fucking kidding me? What kind of bullshit is that? You french one guy at a party, go to bed the next week with a stiff neck and never wake up again? Give me a fucking break. But that's what got me, and then my dumb ass wakes up here, dead, and what, I'm supposed to just be cool with that and move on to the After just like that? Yeah, okay. Fuck that. I barely spent any time on Earth! I never got to live my life there, so I'm damn well gonna live it here until I'm good and ready.
I guess that's what brought me to this job. I spent like, I don't know, a year or so just hanging out in Decibitus at first. Really trying to let loose, you know? Live a little? Ha. But it didn't take long for that to get boring - I guess I shouldn't be surprised that a city full of dead people with mortality issues is kinda lame. So then I remember they told me I could be a Reaper (which at first I was like, no, I didn't die just so I could get a nine-to-five in limbo) and think hey, maybe slaying demons or whatever that entails will be more exciting than nightclubs full of reincarnated geriatrics.
Of course, now I've been on for about a year and a half and... yeah. No. I mean, sure, you get a little action every now and then when there's a wisp that got a little too mature or some especially uncooperative dead guy on Earth, but Jesus, who figured death would still have paperwork? And like, an HR department? You're telling me I still have to deal with payroll when I'm dead?
So yeah, turns out the afterlife isn't that much more impressive than normal life - although not being able to really die again is cool, I guess. And now with the train out of whack things are even more annoying. But hey, maybe whatever's holding up the train will be a bit more of a challenge."
✦ Name: Pluto (Close observers may note that this is obviously not his real name.)
✦ Age: Mid 30’s
✦ Gender: Male
✦ Faceclaim and/or physical description:
A large and fit man in life, Pluto has not slimmed down any in death. Trying to keep well groomed, well spoken, and well dressed, it is nonetheless clear that the man has not kept up with the times. Or rather, he’s kept up with all times simultaneously. Some days he might be out in a suit from the 1920’s while adorned with a tricorn hat and aviators, on others he might be in Air Jordan’s and military dress. All of it clearly meant to be expensive and high end, but also giving a sense that he wears what he wants to, at least at this point in his afterlife.
✦ Weapon: A simple unadorned cruciform sword. Unremarkable in appearance aside from the fact that it comes to no point, instead simply ending in a flat surface nearly three feet from the hilt. Those who have been on jobs with him know that he is reluctant to draw it, except to unmake a spirit with a final blow.
✦ First Job: He had always been a fit man- his father had demanded that of all of his children- but “Pluto” (A name he hoped would sound less foreign to him in time, even if it was one he had chosen.) still marveled at the ease with which he navigated the streets of London, chasing the wisp that had become the target of his first job. Reaper was what he was called now, a grim title if informal, though he supposed in time he would get used to that too. What he was finding it harder to get used to was the city itself. He had lived in London for some time as a youth, and yet the city was almost unrecognizable to him. It seemed that change came startlingly quickly these days, and he wondered if he would ever be able to keep up with the times now that his home lay in Decibitus.
Aux armes… Aux armes…
He mentally repeated, even as he spoke the words in Vertan. Each phrase was timed with the steps of his march, and Pluto’s pace all at once flowed from brisk to absurd as he closed on the wisp. It was a pitiful thing, nearly formless, and crying out in a language that he could not understand- one that perhaps nobody could understand. It had been detected early, long before it could feed and grow into an actual problem. This would not be a glorious battle nor a test of his skills, it was no better than an execution.
“I am sorry my friend, I know how this is going to feel.”
Was it wrong to feel pity for the wisp? Perhaps it deserved to be viewed with dignity and respect in honor of the person it used to be, rather than pity. Pluto could not help but be filled with the latter though as he drew his blade- flinching at the tingling in his neck that always accompanied such an action- and cut through the wisp after a final great stride.
Maybe it would get easier over time.
✦ Magic Branch: Physique
✦ Magic Coup de Grâce: If one were to turn his gloves inside out, they would see this spell written on the inside. Its effect is simple: Magnifying the strength of a single punch to, theoretically, the maximum conceptual extent of what a punch can achieve. The most threatening wisps are rarely able to be taken down with a single blow, and this spell is no exception to that, but Pluto can be confident that should the need to use it arise that it will at least cause some damage to whatever it connects it. Its tendency to also cause collateral damage and draw a lot of unwanted attention from outsiders on Earth means that he is particularly reluctant to use it in urban areas.
Atlas: A written spell physically tattooed onto Pluto’s body (And one he is also reluctant to use as a result, being a pain to reapply) it magnifies his already enhanced physical attributes greatly. Mostly focused on providing a sustained period of enhanced strength rather than speed or endurance, he will often used this to restrain a target while either letting a partner provide the finishing blow, or drawing his own sword once a secure enough pin has been achieved. His use of this in recent years is in no way connected to his recent discovery and binging of the entire WWE catalogue.
Fusillade: A written spell much like his others, the spell is always scribbled on what appears to be a baseball, looking almost as if it were covered in an entire team’s worth of signatures. Once thrown (Or, more properly, pitched) the ball will accelerate forward rapidly, and impact with the force of a cannonball. If properly scribed, the spell should also hold the ball together on impact, ensuring that more of the force is transferred into the target. This is the only written spell that he carries more than one of with him.
Poucet: Pluto’s only verbal spell, and one that sees use in every job. Repeated each time he takes a step, this incantation lengths his strides to an absurd degree, though the resulting physical toll on his body is also enhanced. He will quickly be reduced to breathlessness with prolonged usage, but by then he will usually have long reached his destination.
✦ Edward Bennigan ✦ 29 ✦ Male ✦ Appearance: Edward is a somewhat tall, pale man with a light physique and raven black hair. His eyes are a dark brown, and his cheeks and nose are tinged slightly red; vaguely appearing as if he were sick. He often sports some fancy, and rather, nerdy blue loose fitting cloak as if to embrace the stereotypically nerdy side of a dungeons and dragons dork embracing the arts of wizardry. In a more casual setting he prefers loose t-shirts, hoodies, and sweatpants or shorts. ✦ Weapon: A simple black wooden staff with a purple orb embedded at the top, which harnesses electricity. The staff can unleash a discharge of electrical currents up to 30 feet away. In addition to its scorching power, the electricity has enough kick to potentially push targets back. The discharge can last for about 10 seconds.
Its core form rests on a gold ring.
Time was running out. It was never enough time; A spell like this, he should have tried to work on first. What good was making a dead dog move anyway? What good was making a cool sword? Magic was, as he had protested to his family, a solution to their problems. And yet, why did he wait until the first sign that she wasn't okay?
Anne...
Its been 10 years, watching her slowly decay. The doctors said she wouldn't make 5, yet here she was; sticking it out to the end. She was always stubborn like that, not that she expected to get any better.
"Not that stupid book again." Protested the pale figure on the bed, a hint of playful sarcasm peering out from an otherwise withered voice. Her eyes barely open but was all too familiar of the routine. "I have it this time, Anne, really! I promise, you're going to get better."
"The doctor said you shouldn't be bringing that in here. Honestly, Edd..." Despite the wheezing and coughing, her voice still had hints of that warm fire that she used to sound like. Despite her condition, she hasn't really changed. She never believed in me. Its always been like that.
Since I first showed her, moving a dead frog on its own. It was funny how it freaked her out at the time but..She never saw how it could help. No one did. Not his family, not his school friends, his teachers. The whole town were either apathetic or scornful of such practices. An affront to nature, some would say. A waste of time from others. To hell with them, but it won't be Anne's time now.
"I finally figured it out, Anne. Its been 10 years but I can fix you! I-And you're still here despite what they said. Don't you see? Its- its like destiny!" Anne wasn't convinced, Ed's voice wasn't particularly convincing either. Panicked croaking between each promise. He wasn't really sure what would happen. He knew, at least partially, that the spell should heal. But would it be enough? Could he endure the cost? The sacrifice? He was sure. He calculated this. He knew, in the next few hours, she'd be discharged from the hospital and the two of them can scream at the sun in overwhelming triumph. That both their parents will celebrate all the work he put into those 10 years instead of finding a proper job. It was this moment. This was the day he'd triumph over nature. Spit god himself in the face for allowing such a cruel world to exist. It may not be anything significant compared to the source of his inspirations. The work he's read from that strange old cabin. The promises...the ideas. But its a step forward.
A hand was placed over her forehead. "Okay Edd, I'll let you do it one more time.." She relented with a huff, though it seemed to be more out of pity over his fruitless efforts to 'save' her. Arcane words would escape his mouth, following the motion of his hand, his old book held in his other hand as he read it out loud. Before, he'd say a litany of other odd phrases, failed spells with nothing but chirping crickets and a somber patient to accompany his failure. This time, was truly different. As her withered flesh slowly began to rejuvenate. Though it took her a moment to realize, her eyes widened upon realizing the sudden lift in her condition. But that joy was short lived, replaced by a concerned inquiry.
"Ed?" She repeated, as the sorcerer seemed stiff.
"Edd! Eddie!" She cried out, the sudden shift creating a myriad of emotions. A hole was burning over his chest, through his shirt; where his heart was. Only it wasn't on fire, it as smoldering and rotting rapidly to dust. And through the process, Edward was frozen; almost so. His eyes, started to move one last time as shock of the pain subsided briefly before his mortality came to a close. His mouth opening, he was about to say something. "See? You're all better now" "Just kidding!" "I'm sorry." "I love you." Words that she wanted to hear. What she wanted him to say. But instead what came out was what she feared. Nothing. Not even a whimper, just...silence. And then he fell, stiff as a board, along the hospital floor. Whatever he intended to say, she would never find out.
✦ Magic Branch Necromancy. ✦ Magic Edward has been fascinated in arcane research since he was young, despite the disapproval of family and friends; thus he is well experienced in basic spells and even implementing both written and spoken variations of his own work.
Spoken
A powerful spell that is derived from the philosophy of life and death being one cycle. By decaying an amount of organic matter, the spell will heal a near equivalent amount to another organic target, or take pieces from one part of the body to repair another. It is, in essence, a brute force method of healing derived from necromancy. Due to the unconventional and volatile nature of this spell, it is extremely difficult to use and causes fatigue, Thus the limit is once per day.
When speaking the spell, the caster must place a hand on the over the wound it wishes to regenerate and the target it is taking mass from. Limited to a flower’s worth of mass and currently can’t perform the spell consistently more then once a day. Due to the fatigue it places on Ed, it is inefficient to try and heal himself unless if it is to repair a critical injury. The healing can also re-attach limbs provided the limbs are mostly in tact. Fatal injuries can't be specified from targets, unless if it is delivered to Edward himself as a form of sacrificial healing.
Learned and mastered both written and spoken forms.
A reanimation spell that requires non-animate bone mass to function. As a written spell, Ed can create up to three skeletons from a sufficient amount of bone mass. (The bone mass does not need to be exact.) If the bones don't have an anatomy or are too destroyed, the spell will reform them as human skeletons by default. Animal skeletons can be revived in the same manner, but they can only be as large as a bear and only if the anatomy of the initial mass is still in tact; in theory Ed could attempt to make a custom anatomy, like a spider made of bones and a human skull; though this requires a lot of prep work and bone material to construct before casting the spell. Arthropod exoskeletons can be used in theory, but they are much harder to use then traditional bones and are more dependent on quality (and can't default to a human anatomy.) Fossils can be used, but are also difficult, usually those aren't efficient. (Though even old bones are reinforced after reanimation.)
Though the spell doesn't target flesh or other biomaterial, any flesh and organs still possessed on a corpse are animated with the skeleton and partially reinforced (Creating more of a 'zombie' if the corpse is relatively fresh), but aren't essential to the skeleton's general construction.
The reanimated function almost like puppets as they respond to ed's control; simple commands and motions need some focus, with complex movements or actions requiring complete focus. The spell's duration for this written form is roughly 24 hours, it can be re-casted before the duration ends to refresh that duration. Each time a skeleton is reanimated upon the magic strains its general composition, so that every cast risks destroying the skeleton.
After the skeleton is reanimated, the bones are reinforced by the dark magic that binds them, as well as connecting their joints. Though they are not hard to sever by those joints, they can be easily re-attached. However, they cannot repair the bones matter itself. The flesh and other body-parts that are apart of the reanimated body are also somewhat reinforced by magic, but not as much as the bones themselves and thus are the first to fall off when taking significant damage. Fleshy corpses can provide some additional, albeit temporary protection due to this.
If the spell's effect ends on a skeleton whether by duration, failed reanimation, or damage, their bone mass will completely disintegrate to dust; preventing further use. There can only ever be three reanimated under the written spell's control, recasting the spell with new targets will cause any excess reanimated over the amount to be destroyed as well. Additionally, any reanimated that is larger then a human skeleton will count as three summons due to strain of maintaining such mass.
If the spell is spoken, it will instead imbue a target with a temporary burst of life. Due to its lack of permeance, the spell doesn't interfere with the written summon limit, though it can only target one mass per cast. Doing so will cause the bone mass to animate and move in a specific direction by the caster within a span of 10 seconds. During this animation the mass can opt a new shape instead of defaulting into a stable skeletal anatomy, such as a spike made of bones emerging from the pile, a bone wall, or otherwise launching them as an unconventional projectile as some examples. Due to the brief nature of the spoken version, it won't automatically cause the bone mass to disintegrate afterwards, though if used frequently on the same pile within a close timeframe will cause the strain to destroy them.
Learned and mastered both written and spoken forms.
This spell conjures up to four blades composed of spectral blades made of blood and ghostly fire. In its spoken form, the swords take a temporary form, hovering either just above Edward himself or directly out from the palm of his hand, and can be launched outward to chase a target with a limited homing precision (general effective range of 60 feet.) Upon hitting their target, the blade will burst and inflict a necrotic curse in which the wounded target's senses are blurred and generally have a harder time moving for a duration of one minute.
In its written form, the swords are persistent but lose their ability to be launched. In their inert state, they will continue to hover around Edward and can move within a space of 5 feet. With proper concentration and reaction, he can will those swords to move, attack, or block as basic actions. they can also be 'discarded' to lose their autonomy (Discarded phantom swords can't regain autonomy once done without recasting the spell) and instead be wielded as a weapon. In doing so, the weapon can persist away from Edward up to a distance of 100 feet (if the range limit is exceeded the sword will vanish.) In the written state, the curse can only be applied once per sword. Instead of inflicting immediately on injury, the caster has to manually trigger the curse (even if they aren't wielding it) on a target that has a wound from a corresponding sword (The curse can only be inflicted in this manner during the spell's initial duration, and not after its ended or re-casted.)
The duration of its written form lasts for one hour, two minutes in its spoken form.
Spoken only.
The spell conjures a spectral white hand that mimics the motions of Edward's left hand, only it also can move within a range of 15 feet from the left hand's point. The spectral hand can generally function as an additional hand and can also retract entirely into his left hand to easily fetch items. It can also effectively punch, grab, lift, etc with reasonable force though upon taking significant damage will cause the spell to fade.
Extra: For general spell knowledge, Edward keeps a trusty tome with his general research all recorded down, as well as notes, observations, ramblings and blank pages towards the back in case he needs to prepare written spells.
He is very possessive and secretive of that spellbook.
For most of his written spell use, he prefers to use paper talismans that are relatively cheap and easy to prepare, and versatile enough to be thrown when needed.
He carries three bags filled with general bones (usually animal bones) for his craft, as well as two smaller 'reserve' bone bags. As well as additional useless trinkets, inks, and curiosities stored within a satchel that he often has around a belt.
Edward has practiced some degree of flight, but can really only levitate, hover, and drift at a somewhat slow pace and currently isn't able to maintain it consistently.
He's also on the lower end of average in physical prowess when it comes to reapers, relying on his spells to do the heavy work for him and keeping a distance in combat.
Mateo's magic is a geomancy derived from the deepest parts of the earth, which often leads to considerable overlap with the element of fire.
Knives of Obsidian - A spoken spell that conjures globules of molten material which harden into razor-edged shards of volcanic glass and are promptly launched forward. Though the shrapnel cools considerably before it's fired, the fragments are still quite capable of singeing whatever they find themselves embedded in for a few moments after the spell is cast.
Malebolgia - A spoken spell that rips open a fissure in an earthen surface, useful for creating sudden pitfalls under an opponent or quickly creating a small trench for cover.
Hadean Missile - A written spell Mateo often inscribes on disposable strips of paper that summons a hefty stone, about the size of an adult male's torso, and hurtles it forward. On impact, the stone shatters and its molten core explodes in a spray of magma and debris.
Dies Irae - A written spell that must be activated near a sufficient mass of earth in order to function. The ground beneath the spellwork erupts into a fiery chasm as a geyser of molten slag shoots upward and rains down upon the surroundings, where it lingers in superheated puddles until it hardens back into rock. It sees little use as Dies Irae is both an intensely taxing spell and necessitates high collateral damage as a product of its activation.
"Hi! I'll be managing your eternal soul today. Don't worry, it's way less scary than it sounds!"
Name
Mateo Galović
Gender
Male
Apparent Age
18-ish, maybe younger.
Time In Service
6 Years
Appearance
Mateo is seemingly a boy just below the cusp of manhood, standing a meager 5'9" with a youthful face and obnoxious bubblegum pink hair. An infectious (and, in a city of the dead, one might even say unsettling) cheeriness nearly always graces his features, which belies a fairly experienced reaper behind the babyface. Still, there's a childlike wonder in his eyes at each new sight he can see and experience he can make, and his movements are typically animated and excited. His build is painfully average, if a bit slim, more the product of Mateo's idea of what a healthy person should look like rather than any physique he fostered in life. He dresses comfortably in baggy tracksuits whenever he can get away with it, but will flip to the complete other end of the formality scale if told to dress up. If asked, he'll assert he just really thinks suits are cool but they're too stuffy to wear all the time, apparently.
Weapon
In it's sealed state, Mateo's weapon core hangs from his wrist embedded in a metal bracelet charm. When unleashed, his scythe takes the form of a triangular dagger with an oddly long hilt. With a twist, the weapon separates into the blade, now balanced for throwing, and the remainder of the hilt, connected by a long chain similarly to a rope dart. Two switches on the hilt heat up either the chain or the blade (or both) to searing temperatures, turning the weapon into a whip of red-hot metal or cauterizing itself inside something the blade had already pierced.
Your character has just been given the offer to become a reaper, what brought them to say “yes”?
"Why did I become a reaper? Uuuuum... What else was I gonna do? Decibitus is cool, but it's kinda monotonous too. When I had just died I was so excited to even be walking around without trouble; I hadn't done that since I was little. I always figured it'd be scary - y'know, dying - but it wasn't bad at all. Nothing hurt, I could think and see and talk and breathe clearly; I wanted to see the world! I didn't wanna pass on with just memories of a hospital room when I still had a lot of living... err, un-living? Whatever! I had stuff to do still, and I wasn't going to cross another unknown when the one I just crossed ended up being pretty cool.
Sure, I was pretty content with the city, I spent most of my time testing out what I could do, figuring out my balance again and everything, exploring, reenacting dumb stuff I would've done if I was normal when I was alive, doing all the paperwork they make you fill out when you get here, whatever. It was more world than I'd seen in years, so it was good enough for me back then, but then someone told me I could see more stuff! Like, stuff back in the living world! Yeah, I could request to go haunt around for a while or whatever, but that didn't compare to getting to go to all these different places all the time. Then they told me I could fly or something and that pretty much had me signing on the dotted line. They forgot to tell me it was a boring desk job too, but... That's okay! It's worth it to get to do the fun stuff!
Besides, I think people need a friendly face when they die, even if they got stuck or they're a wisp, and a lot of reapers are kinda scary - wait, don't write that down!
...
Lemme see, I don't believe you.
...
Well, then this interview's over!
...
What do you mean, I 'already answered the question'? No fair!"
✦ Apparent Age: 27 ✦ Actual Age: ??? ✦ Gender: Female ✦ Years in Service: 39 ✦ Weapon: Chain Whip
✧ Usually worn as an earring while in it's gem form, when active it takes the shape of smoky black razors linked together in a long chain and attached to a simple handle. It functions surprisingly well as a whip, and Lena is decently accurate with it. Even more surprisingly is that it can also be used a sort of rope and lasso. Uchi outdid himself when he made it possible for the razor blades to tuck in, making whether the weapon cuts or not depending on the flick of a switch embedded in the handle. Ref.
✦ Appearance:
Lena is a woman that clearly cares about how she looks. She very much enjoys the daily routine of painting her face with make-up and keeping her hair and nails looking nice. Though she has experimented with styles in the past, she usually keeps her hair long and straight - and yes she is a natural red head. While in the office she wears simple clothes with a touch of elegance, but on days off or during work trips to Earth she prefers dressing much fancier. In particular she loves to wear Victorian and Gothic inspired dress to "look the part." She was a little taller than average while she was alive, but in the modern era her height is the median. Her build is more on the slender side, and her pale skin doesn't do much to bring out her gray eyes (but that's where the eye make-up comes in).
✧ How did you die?
"How I died...? That's... a bit personal to ask on a first date, isn't it? Ufufufu... huh? This isn't a date? Then why I am I even - nevermind, you're still buying me dinner aren't you? Good.
"So. My death. I'm curious as to why you're curious... are you expecting something weird? Exciting? Something scandalous~? Ha, well..." She glanced down to the glass on the table in front of her, dragging a finger along the rim in slow circles. "I'll tell you it's the exact opposite of weird, exciting, or scandalous. Why don't you try and guess?"
She looked back up, her lips pulling into an amused expression. She shook her head with every guess, her smile growing wider at the more outlandish suggestions as to how she may have died. After her conversation partner gave up Magdalena leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. Her arms folded in the same way and she raised an arm to gesture as she spoke.
"Brace yourself for this one, okay~? ...'Cardiomyopathy.' I only learned that word much later. At the time I thought... well I thought I was just stressed. Then I dropped dead!" She laughed, at first genuinely but it died down into a hollow sound. "I guess they call it 'heart disease' too. That sounds a bit more romantic, don't you think? Her heart was too big, it worked too hard! She died from loving too much! That's what they told people. It's what I tell people, too."
She hummed lightly, masking the melancholy tone she'd dipped into. She raised the glass to her mouth, savoring the wine's taste. She had considered the tale over, but her company had more to ask. She blinked at the person across the table, holding their gaze for a few moments. When she set the glass down after that it was with a playful smirk.
"...hm? How I ended up in Decibitus? Why, was that story not traumatic enough for you? 'A stopped heart alone is no reason not to pass on' you're thinking. You'd be right. Tell me, do you know what a grudge is? It started with that. Ufufu... Let's just save that story for our second date."
✦ Magic Branch: Transmutation
✦ Magic
Most of Lena's magic is spoken, making its effects temporary and within a limited area. She does carry written versions of her spells that she takes with her on jobs just in case they might be needed - she has her personal supply of sticky notes for just such a task. The written versions naturally last longer, or cover a much larger area.
✧ Lentavy - Sticky
Usually applied to floors or walls to keep the target in place, but can be applied to any inanimate object. Decently strong adherence, but nothing that can't be escaped using sheer power.
✧ Repkaci - Bouncy
Generally used as an emergency spell against being splatted, when applied to a surface it becomes trampoline-like. The spell also sees uses in making spring surfaces for Reapers that can't get a handle on flight yet. Limited to about a 12ft/4m area at max.
✧ Leviaha - Lightweight
At it's strongest as a written spell, it can make whatever it is applied to as light as a feather. Most often used to make clearing obstacles easier, or soften the blow of incoming attacks. When spoken it is limited to objects approximately 6-8ft in size, when written it's about five times as strong.
✧ Acustry - Sharp
A spell that can make even the most mundane objects into dangerous ones. Lena hasn't mastered the written form yet, so it is limited in scope at the moment.
| Twenty-something? | Female | No Thoughts Head Empty |
| Appearance |
Though she's appeared in many department positions, she's always returned to the Crisis Resolution department as a high impact field operative. No matter wherever she appears or how serious her office is however, she is consistently breaking dress codes and turning up to work in tardy and casual clothes, trying to catch up on whatever is considered 'trendy' by modern standards. The only consistent article of clothing is a simple rain jacket she dons whenever she gets into a combat situation. Combined with her aloof and awkward nature, she always looks out of depth despite being one of the longest serving operatives.
| WEAPON |
A lantern made out of old corrugated iron and glass, housing a luminescent orb within. When powered, it projects a field of heavy illusory rain that supresses all sources of light in all nearby surroundings except for those near the lantern. Since most of Nine's spells draw strength from relative luminosity, Nine's arrival at a combat scene is usually heralded by the sound of storms.
| MAGIC: RADIANCE |
Refract - A simple spoken spell that upon invocation temporarily speeds up the user's physical movement. When in effect, observers will see both the user that was sped up and a translucent after-image that move in regular speed. Though its effects can be extended through concentration, its resource draw also increases rapidly - thus it is usually employed in short, quick bursts.
Recall - A written spell that draws upon a subject's memory to create hardlight mimics of an object. Hardlight does not copy the original properties of the object, and always takes a luminescent shimmering yellow. The accuracy of the spell is dependent on how detailed the memory of the object is - the more detailed or recent the memory is, the better the mimic captures the finer details. Within the range of the light source, the object can be controlled remotely by the person recalling. Hardlight is incredibly durable, inflexible and persists for a long duration until it is dispelled or the original source of the light it was summoned from is snuffed out. The spell is most often used to recall Nine's sword in a combat situation.
Cleanse - A spoken spell that shoots a large beam of concentrated light towards a target, designed to punch through defenses and incinerate the target. Unlike more elegant methods of anti-magic that deconstructs the components of a spell, the beam seeks to crush all defenses through sheer overwhelming firepower, effectively challenging Nine's opponents into a duel of raw arcane strength.
Drown - A written spell chanted to a steady rhythm, enveloping an area in a fog of complete darkness. Those outside will see a storm that steadily thickens until nothing is visible in front of them. Those caught inside will find it impossible to sense anything outside of their immediate radius, and without a special magic resistance will have difficulty moving or breathing. Often reserved for high priority targets since it draws too much attention and even after being dispelled, leaves after-effects of lowering local luminosity.
| TALES |
"Do you want to go for a walk?"
It's something I used to say. I know it's my whole job, but I've never really got good at talking to people. Especially if they're freshly on the other side and are freaking out, so I tried to give them space and let them figure it out on their own.
Not this kid though. The whole room was a mess. A tiny one room apartment that was molded over by a leak from somewhere and you couldn't step anywhere without bumping into some pile of trash or overdue bills. The windows were all taped over and the gas faucet was open. You get the point. Was never easy the first time, and never got easier since.
This kid was barely anything more than skin and bones with some dirty cloth over him. Think he might have been somewhere near the ball park of 10 to 14, but it might have been that he hadn't eaten anything for a long time and shrunk him. Maybe years ago, way too far for a kid like him, his face may have been free of bruises, his hands free of cuts, but it was impossible to know. When I found him, he was sitting on what little free ground in that tiny hole of a place was still left, staring up at the rafters.
We stared at each other for a while. It was like staring into a mirror. And we just understood. He knew who I was. I had a feeling he knew that I was coming way before I did. When I offered, he just nodded. So without anything else, I took out my lantern and took his hand and led him into the gentle night rain.
I've always liked the rain. The way the hazy white streaks just wash everything away, the way the noise of the whole world quiets itself just to listen to the rain drizzle on. It gets lonely to walk alone in the rain, following the barely lit streets, but at least it's a good way to let people figure themselves out on their own. The kid sure enjoyed sticking his hand out in the rain, so it worked in a way.
As we turned through the exit of the city and out into a park, I asked him if he had anything he wanted to do before we finished our walk. The way his eyes widened, I think I was the first person to ask him that. We sat down under an awning somewhere and watched the rain jump across the lantern light.
After a bit, he finally said something.
"Will I meet my mom?"
I don't... what am I supposed to say? I've checked what was on those bills. I didn't mean to pry, but, their last names were different. She had cut contact years ago.
Sorry, I still don't know what else I could have done.
I lied. I said I met his mother a couple years back. That she told me how proud of her son she was. That she loved him, and she can't wait to meet him. Just a few steps into the After, and he'll be in her arms.
I think he knew I was lying, because he didn't ask anything else. We walked on silently, all the way to the Rail. No words. Just the rain. He got on, and he smiled at me for what must have been the first time ever.
Miss Death, please consider this as my request for transfer from the Deliverance department. I am far too simple for this line of work, and I am afraid I am but a blunt instrument.
✦ Name: Vera Andreyevna Makarova (but, Vera, Vera will do just fine) ✦ Age: 27 years ✦ Age (Appearance): 27 years ✦ Gender: Female ✦ Time in Service: X ✦ Appearance: Hard to miss in a crowd, Vera is tall, measuring well over six feet. Maintaining the habits of her mortal life, Vera remains committed to keeping herself in tip top shape, and despite the fact that it provides her little physical benefit Vera continues to dedicate a portion of each day to physical exercise. Colored by a lifetime spent getting into and out of trouble, Vera has by neccesity developed a functional, athletic build. Her movements are fluid, agile, and efficient, if perhaps a bit uncouth and surprisingly quiet.
Fond of subtle acts of defiance, Vera has a modest collection of tattoos inked across her light skin. Of particular note is the large, roaring tiger, covering most of her back. Inquiries as to the meaning of any of her tattoos is rarely well-received and Vera seems oddly reluctant to permit others, even other reapers, the briefest of glances of the symbols etched into her skin.
Her last remaining vanity from her time as a mortal is her long blond hair that reaches past her shoulders. Unless the situation demand otherwise, she keeps her hair pulled back into a well-ordered ponytail. Her pale blue eyes are far from cold and burn with a carefully contained fury. Beneath a collected exterior smoulders quite the temperament and Vera goes to great lengths to hide this usually unwelcome trait. However, woe be it to those who manage to crack Vera's mask of professionalism and see real anger in her eyes.
In death, Vera is an exceptionally formal dressers. She favors bespoke three piece suits in solid colors, cut in all manner of fashions and fabrics, but inevitably dyed in shades of gray or black. maintains a tasteful collection of ties and dress shirts. One of her most cherished possession is a pair of black 14-hole Dr. Martens boots adorned with gunmetal gray shoelaces, shaped from smooth leather, and polished until they are as spotless as a mirror.
A chain smoking fiend in life and unlife, Vera is rarely found without a pack of cigarettes and a battered Zippo lighter engraved with an enameled US military crest. The discerning customer might note that the reaper smokes a long discontinued brand of Soviet era cigarettes, simply called Laika, after the legendary space faring dog.
The Zippo lighter Vera perpetually carries on her person looks less like a well-kept museum object and more like a Zippo lighter that has been buried in the jungle for more than fifty years after being run over a couple of times by a tank for good measure. The factory engraving is worn down to the very metal, but upon a close examination it is still possible to make out the original text (SPECIAL FORCES GROUP, 1st SPECIAL FORCES VIETNAM). The lid has been hand engraved with a name (SFC Thomas E. Karlsson, 31st ENGR DET, 11 FEB 68 – FEB 69,). On the reverse of the lighter is a skillfully hand carved map of Vietnam.
On the reverse of the lighter is a skillfully hand carved map of Vietnam overlaid with words in Russian, Кто не рискует, тот не пьет шампанского.
How Vera acquired a Zippo lighter of Vietnam war vintage and why she seems to guard it so zealously remains a mystery.
✦ Weapon: Banishing all thoughts of brandishing a dagger, Vera instead wields a two handed longsword that has been meticulously forged in the style of a Western European 14-15th Century blade. The sword is long, reaching well over a meter in length, and slowly tapers into an exceedingly sharp point. Despite the size of her sword, Vera's chosen weapon is no brutish, unnecessarily heavy bludgeon, but rather a precisely balanced weapon intended for medieval warfare.
An exceptional example of the latest and greatest technological innovation in the early 14th century,centering on how to cut or skewer (through gaps in plate armor), Vera's sword possesses an expertly honed flat hexagonal blade cross-section and a weight saving fuller that runs along a third of the blade. In short, beyond being the unmistakable work of a master weapon smith, Vera's personalized bit of sharpened steel represents an optimized compromise between thrusting capability and good cutting characteristics.
✦ Magic Branch: Abjuration
✧ Surprising no one more than herself, Vera has talent for the protective magic spells generally considered to be at the heart of the school of Abjuration.
✦ Spells:
✧ Dispellere (Dispel Magic)
Targeting a creature, object, or magical effect within 120 feet, Vera dispels active spells centered on her chosen target. The exact number of spells that are dispelled depends on the level of magic employed to cast said spells and the time Vera has to cast her own magic. Given the on the fly nature of reaping Wisps with a capital W, Vera generally favors quick off the cuff verbal applications of dispel magic. However, when there is a need for a powerful shaped charge of magic countering energy, Vera has been known to commit the spell to writing in an ornate script befitting only the finest calligraphy books.
✧ Globus invulnerabilitatis (Globe of Invulnerability)
By channeling her magic through spoken or written words, Vera creates a faintly shimmering magical barrier around herself that protects her from physical and magical damage. The magical sphere appears in a 10-foot radius around Vera and remains for up to a maximum time of a minute. When casting this spell using spoken magic, Vera must decide whether the magical barrier protects against physical or magical damage. Furthermore, to guard against more powerful attacks, Vera requires more preparation. Weathering a blow from a very powerful foe, many foes at once, or very many powerful foes would require a lengthy amount of chanting or sizable stack of elaborately written spells prepared well in advance. Provided that the magical barrier holds, spells cast from outside of the barrier have no effect on creatures within the barrier and physical blows do nothing more than send sparks of magic into the air.
✧ Frigore Pyramidem (Cone of Cold)
Slinging a modified variant of the evocation spell, Vera sends a blast of cold air hurtling forward from her hands, enveloping everything caught within the cone of cold in sheets of ice. Creatures encased by the frost are significantly slowed down and suffer the ill effects of severe frostbite, receiving moderate cold damage. Surfaces or objects impacted by the icebound air are covered by a thick layer of ice that hinders movement due to a sudden, unwelcome slipperiness. The spell has a maximum range of some 60 feet.
✧ Vincula Fati (Imprisonment)
Summoning magical restraints, Vera firmly roots a target to the ground, holding them in place with the heavy ethereal binds. The target is bound until the spell ends or is dispelled, preventing any movement beyond that permitted by the spellcaster. When cast verbally, the spell takes almost a full minute for Vera to cast. Writing the spell takes significantly longer, but allows the spell to restrain much more powerful targets. Thematically, Vera prefers to inscribe the spell on objects such as chains, ropes or other bits of string. A decidedly close range spell, Vera must be within 30 feet or less to be able to magically imprison her foes. The lucky or powerful can avoid being bound by the spell by resisting the underlying magic at work.
✦ Texty Stuff:
Albert leaned against the dresser, sucking in air and wheezing. One hundred years. One hundred years of learning. One hundred years of research. One hundred years of biding his time. One hundred years of hiding. One hundred years of avoiding the monsters he knew lurked in the shadows. One hundred years of slipping away from the hunters, the collectors of the dead, the reapers, as some of his more learned brethren called them. There were obscure mentions in faded books. Whispers began to tell of figures emerging from beyond the pale. Beings without names, faceless and obscured. Small truths buried in centuries of rumors, impossible to extinguish, the stories endured. Even as evidence of the reapers presence was debated by the loose councils of wizards with the passing years.
Wasted. Wasted! Ruined by a single, momentary slip of his attention. He had felt so secure. He had been so comfortable. He had settled. He had acquired all the necessary regents. He had been so close to completing the ritual. So close! But now, now they had found him. Hunted him down. Chased him from one safe house to the next. They wouldn't stop. They didn't seem to sleep. He could see them everywhere. The same two women. A tall blonde wearing a suit. A short brunette with a pixie cut. They were walking nightmares that had invaded even his fitful rest.
He swallowed, feeling the lump growing in his throat. Tears burned at the edge of his eyes and he gasped for more air. He knew he didn't need to breath, he hadn't for some time, but he found the habit hard to break. They had been chasing him for days. He had burned his last contacts. He had called in his last favors. And still. Still, they pursued him, like bloodhounds, unwavering following his trail. They had driven him underground. They had forced their way past his wards. He had used the last of souls he had horded. They had exhausted resources acquired over long decades.
The heavy oak door splintered, flying off the hinges, as it shattered into hundreds of tiny wooden projectiles. Shadows coursed forward, a roiling wave of blackness that enveloped the room in a hazy fog. Albert felt dread poisoning him, rotting him from within as his hands began to shake.
He didn't wait to identify the solid figure that followed, bounding into the room in a fell swoop. The fireball in his hand roared across the room smashing into the door frame with a deafening boom. He dove for cover, closing his eyes, shielding them with his hands. He could feel the flames licking at him, the air being forced from his lungs by the hungry flames, and the painfully hot caress of the growing inferno as it exploded into existence. He could hear screaming, his own voice. Months of frustration and fear igniting across the surface of his spirit, a thick tar as dark as the night.
Silence. Silence followed.
Crawling from behind the charred dining room table, Albert opened his eyes, staring at a room full of ashes and crumbling cinder blocks. There was only the low flicker of the dying embers his spell had birthed. He allowed himself a smile, a brief moment of glee.
He saw the movement too late. The blade arced towards him and he watched as it cut through the wrist connecting his left hand to his left arm. A kick smashed into his sternum and sent him crumbling backwards against the wall. Howling in a mad rage, he muttered curses, sending a scorching ray of flames across the room, chasing the shadowy figure that darted away from him.
Tracing the path of his attacker, he dragged his remaining hand across the breadth of the ruined room. The jet of flame smashed into the figure with a sudden crack of arcane energy. Dividing, the fire flattened, folding to the away from the advancing figure that seemed to be pushing back the fire. Shoving his hand forward, Albert tried to push harder, sending even more flames flowing at his obscured opponent. He could feel his fingers going numb as he burned through his last reservoirs of energy.
His mouth twisted into a stubborn sneer as she tried to stand. Shifting into a surprised O as the blade ran him through. Stumbling, Albert fell and the back of his head smashed against the burnt rubble that had once been pristine hardwood floor. Bright light faded to darkness and Albert felt himself begin to fade. Propping himself up on his elbows, he tried to speak, rasping, and desperately grasping for words.
A flicker of metal shone from the nearby darkness. A loud metallic clink summoned sparks that leapt together into a small flame.
"I knew. I always knew you were coming."
"Все это было просто сном с самого начала," came the reply, a woman's voice, not unkind, and then a metal thunk as the flame vanished. "Никто из нас никогда не был свободен."
"I'm sorry...I don't understand. What did you say? I had to try."
"It was all just a dream to begin with," the woman said, stepping closer, a circle of burning embers gentle swaying near her mouth. A puff of smoke trailed behind her as she drew closer,"None of us have ever been free."
Albert felt a pang of anger, "Don't you speak to me that way! Don't you lecture me! I was free! I lived! What do you know!? Do you know what you are doing? Do you even know who you are working for? "
The woman shrugged easily, her sword hefted in the crook of her arm seemed light despite the size of the blade,"Doesn't matter. I don't care. I'm a cleaner. In this life and the next."
"You're a killer. You're a murder, just like me."
There was a hint of anger in her eyes, a rough frown flashed over her lips,"You damaged this world. You stole from the living. You damned souls far more innocent than you. Do not play games with me, Albert Colthurst. I know you. I know what you did. I know your crimes."
Albert faltered, pulling back in a moment of abrupt regret. He tried to crawl, but found his arms were useless.
"Smoke?" he heard from above him. She stood over him, as he rolled over, holding out a pack of cigarettes.
"I...I quit thirty years ago. For my wife. She never liked the smell. She said it was a dirty habit."
"Yes," the woman agreed, offering a small smile. "Very bad."
"I don't suppose she'll know? I don't suppose I have much time left? So why not, please, hand me a cigarette if you would?"
"No, not much time," she said, nodding solemnly. He struggled to follow her hands as the lighter flashed open again. Dark drops grew into large pools of blackness at the corner of his eyes. He heard her sitting down next to him, felt the cigarette as she placed it between his lips.
"I'm sorry," he said breathing in a burning cloud of nicotine. The taste brought back memories. 1957. Happier times. He almost thought he could see her in front of him. "I- I never meant for this. I never meant for any of this to happen. I just couldn't give up. I couldn't give up when I was so close. You understand? You understand, don't you?"
"No need, I understand," his killer said. "It is alright, Albert. You are absolved."
"By who, you?" Albert managed, laughing as he fell into a fit of coughing. Another meaningless gesture for a ghost. It felt good though. It felt right. He felt human. He felt like himself.
"No," she laughed too, but she was only half smiling.
"What comes after this? A new life?"
"Maybe? Maybe something? Maybe nothing?"
"How will I know?"
"You won't."
"I want to live. I want to see my wife. I want to see my son."
"Then tell yourself you will."
Vera sat unmoving, a cloud of smoke rising to the ceiling from the cigarette slowly dying between her ash covered lips. The remains of the wizard lay next to her, smouldering in the charred table cloth she had wrapped him. Two packs of cigarettes were scattered around her, blackened firebrands fading in the uninvited wind.
She had waited long enough. It was time. She had indulged in her habit, in her vice. A small price to pay for a moment of quiet.
Rising to her feet, Vera gently slung the table cloth over her shoulder and left the wizard's crumbling home behind her.
The asphalt was the color of an abandoned tombstone, cracked, and blackened with filth.
Vera frowned, the dregs of her last cigarette dangling loosely between her lips. Smoking couldn't kill her, not anymore. It was a filthy habit. A filthy habit for a filthy place. She wasn't sure what she, Miss Death, saw in her, what she saw in any of them. She didn't care. Cleaning was cleaning. A job was a job. Even death couldn't change the unfairness of the world. She had no great aspirations. She nursed no great hopes. She had spent a lifetime in the shadows. She had stolen. She had threatened. She had hurt. She had maimed. And she had killed. What were the hardships of another life, this time spent in the fading light?
The gem felt weightless in her hand, held in place by the loop of silver wrapped along the length of her right arm, beneath her suit jacket and the fine cotton dress shirt that she wore. The sword had felt lighter still, made for her, sword hilt resting perfectly in her hands. She did not like the thoughts that awoke after a job. She did not enjoy the purposelessness. And she detested the peace. She needed a drink. She need another cigarette. And she needed a good f–
"Did it work?" a singsong voice interrupted. Too light. Too cheery. And much too pleasant.
"It worked," Vera replied.
"I told you it would. It took me almost a day to transcribe that spell. You can't imagine how sore my hand is. Nice illusion though, wasn't it?"
"It worked, Lucia."
"Oh, come on, admit it, you were impressed! Vera, stop being such a kill joy! We won! We did it! Another baddie bites the dust! We should celebrate! Before we head back, they won't notice if we spend a couple of more hours here. Live a little, why don't you?"
"You are crazy, you know that, yes?"
"All a matter of degrees, my sweet Vera."
"I am not sweet."
"Ah, you say that, but I know, I know that deep down you are a big softy."
Amelia stands at around 5'8" when stood up straight, although her posture is usually terrible enough to shave off an inch. In terms of build, she's fairly lanky, and she generally wears a grin that could best be described as "wicked", even when she's not doing anything that'd warrant it. To anyone that pays attention, it'd be clear she does actually bother to take care of herself: she just doesn't want to do much beyond that. As for clothes, while her usual fur-lined aviator jacket is pretty finely-made, it's also more expensive than the rest of her wardrobe put together. Trying to get her to pay any attention to proper dress-code is a Sisyphean task, and she'll usually kick around in a selection of jeans and graphic t-shirts: apparently with a particular affinity for terrible slogan tees. After much persuasion, she was convinced to start wearing button-up shirts to work. Sometimes. The battle is ongoing.
She's also been known to wear sunglasses indoors often enough for it to be a habit.
⊕ Age (appearance): 25 ⊕ Age (actual): None of your business. ⊕ Gender: Female
⊕ Weapon
"Look, this is a great idea. It'll be fine, trust me."
Amelia's weapon is not a great idea. It appears to be a standard revolver, and that's roughly five-sixths accurate.
Chambers one through five fire regular bullets. The sixth is the aforementioned explosive shot, which is both incredibly destructive to the target, and to Amelia herself if she's standing too close to whatever it hits. She doesn't seem to heed this danger, and if anything takes some kind of strange joy in it, keeping absolutely no track of it and often spinning the cylinder randomly.
Unsurprisingly, this has severely backfired on her more than once. She has made no effort to change anything about her weapon in spite of this.
⊕ Magic Branch: Sympathetic magic
"Nothing's ever isolated: we're all one big, happy family, and isn't that just sweet?"
Amelia specialises in magic that consists of creating and manipulating bonds between objects and people. By fostering and harnessing these connections, she can draw things towards one another, swap their positions, hijack the sight of passing creatures, and forcibly drag an attacker down with her.
Magic
"Apparently, my original names were unprofessional."
⊕ No, you. Dead-man's Switch
Perhaps it says something worrying about her character, that Amelia would dedicate so much of her magical effort towards a spell that primarily serves to spite anyone who beats her in a fight. Psychoanalysis aside, the dead-man's switch is just that, a powerful backlash that inflicts directly proportionate retribution upon the one unfortunate enough to inflict the activating blow. In order to use this spell, Amelia has to actively activate it in anticipation of an attack - if she's caught off-guard with sufficient force, or is unaware of her attacker, it cannot be activated. Equally, if she isn't struck, it only lasts for a window of around ten seconds: past that, whether or not it's activated, it will dissipate.
In addition, the damage is only somewhat proportional - the backlash towards an attacker seems to be slightly less than the damage inflicted upon Amelia: if she happens to activate this in anticipation of a killing blow, it will severely damage an opponent in a manner that somewhat mimics her injuries, but will be 'stopped short' of killing them in turn. Similarly, loss of limb will likely disable the opponent's corresponding limb (or closest equivalent), but will not detach it.
This spell is complex enough to only function when written, and has no verbal form. In addition, it is highly taxing upon the user - particularly if it actually comes into effect. Regardless, it's not something one would be able to cast more than once in a fight on average.
⊕ The one that swaps shit. Trickster's Trade
A relocation spell which enables Amelia to swap the position of two objects of a similar size to one another. The verbal form of the spell allows her to swap items up to roughly the size of a house-cat, whereas the written version's size limitation increases, allowing her to swap people, and person-sized objects. Both targets must be within 125 feet of Amelia, and 125 feet of each other.
⊕ Got Your Eyes! Hijacker's Sight
A spell that primarily operates as a scouting mechanism, allowing Amelia to use another creature's eyes, and see what they see. This takes the form of essentially "piggybacking" on their sight. The target is unaware of the spell's effects, but Amelia cannot direct them through it in any way. When the spell is verbal, she can use one creature's sight for up to five minutes, but cannot re-enter their viewpoint if she leaves it. When written, the spell allows her to "tag" a creature for up to ten minutes, allowing her to drop in and out of their viewpoint for the duration.
While using another creature's viewpoint through this spell, Amelia herself cannot see.
⊕ Marriage? Kinetic Bond
A written spell generally inscribed on a series of sticky notes adhesive papers. This spell allows Amelia to create a "tether" that creates a straight line between two objects that she places the sigils upon, which rapidly pulls them towards one another when activated. The objects don't need to be similar in size, but the force required to move them is relative to their mass: a cardboard box couldn't be used to move a huge statue, for example, and would instead simply be thrown into the larger object. The tethers can move objects of up to roughly the weight of a brown bear, and they can have a distance of up to 90 feet between them.
⊕⊕⊕
She was being hazed, right? That's what this was? That was why her partner had barely spoken a damn word to her and also sucked at his job, right? Obviously she couldn't be wrong about any of that, so hazing was the only option left. Sure, he'd given her some kind of run-down, but if you delivered all your instructions in a dry monotone, you couldn't rightly expect her to remember them properly through the concentrated boredom.
Just following the guy around had resulted in them tracking down the wisp anyway, but when she'd thought that meant an improvement to her day, apparently she'd been mistaken. How long was this guy gonna take beating the thing down, anyway?
"Hey, what'syourface, moustache man, if you wanna give me some space, I can end this alread--" Amelia ducked out of the way of an errant tail-swipe, whooping gleefully. Her partner's insistence on getting up-close and personal with the thing sort of made sense, but at the same time, well, damn if it didn't make it complicated to get a shot. Blowing her own arm off wasn't that big a deal, but apparently it made her unpopular in the workplace if someone else got caught in the crossfire.
And not that she'd mind, but he wasn't doing fuck-all to the thing. Sure, it wasn't hitting him either, but the idea of sitting around watching an endurance match made her want to cry, just a tiny bit. The only thing worse than violent, bloody, gruesome death was mild boredom, after all.
Damn, did Amelia struggle with close-in fighters. Trying to bail 'em out, specifically. Unfortunately, you didn't always get the luxury of a partner smart enough not to practically rub their face on the wisp. Unfortunately, sometimes you ended up in a stalemate, with your six-shooter pointed at the head (if that counted as a head, which was up in the air) of a creature and your coworker ignoring your pretty clear instructions to, "for the last time, back off a little!"
The guy was practically making himself a human shield, alright? Reaper shield, if you wanted to be a technically accurate dweeb. She had a shot, she knew that much. They were in a stalemate, her and boredom, and she'd have to move sooner rather than later to break it. She was pretty sure this thing wouldn't actually unmake the man in his current state. Probably. If it was a regular gun, she'd probably not have anything to think about. As was, she had a one-in-six chance of losing employee of the month forever.
Pretty good odds, right?
She laughed, far harder than any aspect of the situation warranted, as though she was in on a private joke and it was fucking hilarious - probably 'cause she was in on a private joke and it was fucking hilarious. For some reason, this didn't seem to reassure her colleague, who finally looked her way for that instead of the instructions. Oh, sure, the sound of someone having fun gets him. Probably made him a spoilsport. Or maybe just a pansy. Both?
Yeah, so the guy's health and well-being weren't that far down her list, in that they were probably at least somewhere on there. But then again... a clean shot offered itself up, and without really thinking about it, her final decision was made. A gun in her hand, and her finger squeezing the trigger. "Screw this-- think fast!"
One in six, right?
...
Oh, that wasn't good.
***
"So, the report might sound bad. But remember, I did tell him to back up."
Charles Dionne Chase Dion Male | 26 | Divination "The only thing on my mind is revenge."
_______________________________________________ "I haven't forgotten." "Feel free to swoon. I'll make sure to catch you." "I'll kill him." ________________________________________
"The world is such an ugly place. Good thing I'm around to make it that much more beautiful."
✦ Appearance ✦
A tall, somewhat lanky fellow, Chase is never seen without his signature, charming smile. He is prim, proper, and posh, keeping up a tidy appearance with his clothes free of dirt and wrinkles. Looking his best is very important to him: his shoes are always polished and his outfits accessorized accordingly. He claims his red hair has a 'science' to it where it always looks perfectly tousled. The striking contrast between said hair and his chartreuse eyes is something he is very proud of. Should the occasion arrive that he actually needs to dress down, even that will be designer and nothing less. In short he tries to look fabulous at every opportunity possible, favoring style over everything else.
✦ Weapon ✦
Chase's weapon manifests from a cuff earring to a sniper rifle.
✦ Magic ✦
Chase believes his magic falls into the Divination category. Anytime his magic is activated, his irises glow bright.
✧ Audi ✧ - A spell that divines ones thoughts and brings them into his own. His thoughts are also able to be sent to others. In shorter terms, it works much like telepathy and works to keep communication between people. Inner thoughts are not able to be projected or read, only surface level ones.
✧ Sentire ✧ - Chase's most-used spell. With a deep breath, he can sense living or non-living things around him. At least, that's how he describes it. He primarily uses it to sense Wisps and can tell how many there are and where they are located within a certain range.
✧ Cogitare ✧ - An offshoot of Sentire. A more focused spell, he can pinpoint the exact location of whatever he is tracking. While he uses this for Wisps, he can also use them for Reapers and humans.
✧ Vide ✧ - A spell that lets Chase peek into the see into past memories. It's easiest to see more recent memories. Those that are further back are harder to obtain and take more time and energy to see.
"So, how did you die?"
"It was all over the news, don't you remember? It was woven as any other celebrity death: another cog on the Hollywood machine crushed. At least I lasted a while on the news cycle. Everyone was shocked, I tell you, shocked! Or at least they pretend they were. My albums sold well, my fortune was as plump as a girl's lip fillers, and I was well into that 'mature singer' phase. But I was still a teen heartthrob, so to the world, it was only a matter of time before I died to some sort of overdose. To most people's credit, they thought it'd be the alcohol. I kinda thought the same, too.
But they weren't aware that by some miracle, I've never so much as lit up a joint. Something about sniffing stuff weirds me out. I was always happy for a drink at the end of the day, but drugs? Have you seen what they do to your skin and teeth? My entire brand ran on my good looks--I did commercials, too--why the hell would I do anything to mess myself up? A solid third of my paychecks went into making sure I looked my best at all times: hair, clothes, skincare, gym memberships, trainers, healthy food. I love how I look. Honestly, the only reason I didn't marry a mirror is because I knew I'd get laughed out of court.
I guess to their credit, it was my first time trying it out. High as a kite...and I remember slipping and falling in the bathroom. Skull probably cracked on the tile floor, I wouldn't be surprised. But honestly, I'm more surprised no one thought the bruises on my neck were weird."
✦ Name: Zachary Viper ✦ Age: Looks 18, and sure acts like it, too! :D ✦ Gender: Trans Male ✦ ✦ Weapon: A pair of twin daggers.
✦ “How did you die?” ✧ It was a cloudy day when Zachary and Riley were going to the place that would instate Zachary as Riley's legal guardian.
Two years earlier, their parents had died in a car crash while on their way to pick their two boys up from separate schools, and up until recently, Zachary had home schooled Riley and tried to keep the both of them from being found out and(potentially) put into separate orphanages.
Unfortunately, they were found out a few days after Zachary's eighteenth birthday, but fortunately, after some conversing(read: begging and pleading) with some child care officials, they agreed to allow Zachary be Riley's guardian, after he signed a whole bunch of legal documents, of course.
Anyway, as Zachary and Riley were walking to the legal place, Riley was on his phone, while Zachary was currently being consumed by his thoughts.
Was this really a good idea?
What if he messed this all up somehow?
What would their parents think-
Zachary's thoughts soon came to an abrupt stop when he heard the sound of a train quickly approaching, and his eyes widened when he saw Riley in the middle of the train tracks.
The rest was all a blur; all Zachary could remember after that was leaping after Riley to push him out of the way of the train, and the excruciating pain that he experienced soon after.
His last thoughts were him not wanting to leave Riley alone, and then, he blacked out...
✦ Magic: Perception(Zachary can affect the perception of both himself, other Reapers, and humans, ranging from simple illusions to being able to see a Wisp’s “true colors”.) ✦ Illusio Using this spell, Zachary can make an item look like another item, though can only do this to items about as big as a TV or smaller at this present moment. This spell is usually spoken. ✦ Veritas Zachary can identify a Wisp, regardless of what it looks like, with this spell. This spell is usually spoken. ✦ Occulo With this spell, Zachary can hide items in plain sight, making it hard to find them. This spell is usually spoken, and, like Illusio, can only affect items as big as a TV or smaller. ✦ Intactilis Related to “Occulo”, Zachary can make items intangible(the spoken version) or only have him and other Reapers be able to touch it(the written version). Like Illusio and Occulo, however, Zack can only affect items as big as a TV or smaller. So far, this spell is usually written.
- Lucian, moments before the concept of a reaper was explained to him.
Appearance
At 6'2" and a body type that could only be described as carved of marble, Lucian's presence in a room is self-evident. With his toned muscles, his abs still look like they could grind meat. Even though his attire is less ostentatious in death than it was in life, some strange habits of his still appear. Unsurprisingly, any shirt that finds its way onto his body tends to be removed within the hour. He's not quite picky what he wears. In fact, Lucian is the sort of person who would wear anything. This stems from him never actually buying clothes before; all of his outfits have been gifts from other people.
Weapon
Lucian's weapon is a humble pool cue. The weapon possesses the ability to form a set of 16 floating balls that can be used as ranged projectiles. The balls are limited to a 40m radius, at which point they naturally reflect as though striking a wall. The balls can also be recalled to the cue, but doing so lacks the kinetic energy of a standard attack. When stored, it rests upon a small silver band on Lucian's right index finger.
Magic
Lucian specializes in miracles. Miracles are thought to be an esoteric school. Rather than incanting consistent formulas, those who cast miracles ask the world script for assistance and let fate decide the result. Scholars of miracles tend to treat it as though they treat quantum mechanics: observation changes the measured results. Thankfully, miracles tend to be either neutral or positive. Thus, the user and their allies aren't at the risk of a sudden meteor striking them.
Iuvo Fuga - Lucian asks the script to get him out of whatever situation he may find himself in. This effect can range from something such as a heavenly rope grasping and flinging Lucian out of harm's way to a projection of a ringtone giving the illusion that there's a call he must take.
Auxilio Medela - Lucian asks the script to heal a target's physical wounds. While this spell can heal physical wounds, it's just as likely that it mends clothes instead.
Succurro Inquisitio - Lucian asks the script what he should do. In response, the script creates a prophetic event from wiggling a stop sign to turning on a light switch. Though, rather than a prophetic event, this spell seems to just do something at random that Lucian perceives to be a prophecy.
Proficio Factum - Lucian asks the script for its support. As such, Lucian is affected by a random boon. From increasing his speed or strength to making his skin shimmer, it's uncertain what this spell will do for certain.
"How did you die?"
"I died?"
Lucian stopped raking leaves to face the person who had asked the question. He took a moment to think.
"I guess I did. You kind of forget about it sometimes." His arms crossed. "I think I drank too much. People around me kept on telling me to take some more shots. I wasn't going to say no. I lost count after three, so I don't really know how much I drank. I just woke up in a new place and tried to find my manager."
He paused once more to look at the sky for an extended moment.
"Took me a few days to figure out I was dead. I thought people were telling me I died as a prank. Manager used to put me in a lot of reality TV."
Resting the rake against his pecs, Lucian rubbed the back of his neck.
"So here I am, raking up some leaves. It gives me a real sense of purpose, you know? Like I'm doing something to help. Makes me a lot happier than when I would model."
His words would have had more impact if he was doing something other than raking leaves. More importantly, if he was aware that the leaves he had raked were already blowing away. Alternative to that: if he was actually doing his job as a reaper instead of seeing a rake against a building and deciding that he was going to spend his afternoon organizing leaves.
"But why reap souls?"
- Lucian, moments after the concept of a reaper was explained to him.
✦ Age: 26 (plus 34 years post-death) ✦ Gender: Male ✦ Weapon: Claw Hammer – A simple workman’s tool with a broad, flat head on one side for hammering nails into wood and a hooked wedge on the other side for levering nails back out. The only thing noteworthy about its appearance is its pure matte black finish, but it is otherwise unremarkable. It does, however, have a power; like a regular hammer, it can be used to nail things down, though unlike a regular hammer it does not need any actual nails to do so. When the hammer strikes an object, if there is an suitable flat surface on the other side of the impact, the hammer can create a projection of a nail which will pin said object to said surface; though the nail has the appearance of piercing the object, it causes no actual harm to the object, aside from the fact it was struck by a hammer obviously. The larger the object the larger the nail required and the more energy required; the duration of the effect will also be shorter.
✦ Appearance: Ogawa is a rather unassuming individual, standing at 5’ 9” and having a fairly average build. His face is plain on inexpressive, his posture is slouched and almost lazy; even his chosen weapon as a Reaper is dull compared to most. The only thing that really makes him stand out from a crowd is the way he dresses; flashy, expensive looking suits, gold jewellery and watches, dress shoes shined to a reflective sheen. The same things he used to wear while he was alive, back when Japan’s bubble economy had yet to burst and reckless spending was at a high.
Ogawa raised the cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag and making the interviewer wait awkwardly until he was finished; intentionally so, if the deliberate eye contact was anything to go by. He exhaled, blowing a plume of smoke into the air above the table and watching as it slowly dispersed around the room. It was only the sense of anticipation between them, the feeling that an answer was coming, albeit slowly, that prevented the interviewer was asking again or moving to a different question. The pause felt thoughtful, rather than negligent.
“I don’t know.”
More silence followed and Ogawa took the time to take another drag, shorter this time, before stubbing out his cigarette in his ashtray. “Well, I have an idea. Bullet to the back of the head I assume.”
There was another pause, then the interviewer put pen to paper and the sound of the nib scratching across the notepad broke the quiet at last. “I was out on a job; nothing too serious, normal day-to-day stuff. Normal if you’re a Yakuza anyway. I had a couple of our guys with me, younger faces, practically kids, but I knew them; I’d worked with them before. Next thing I know I’m waking up here; just as sudden as that. Didn’t hear or feel a damn thing.”
Folding one leg over the other, Ogawa leaned back in his seat. “Pretty sure it was one of them; the guys with me I mean. It could have been someone else, another family or something. but we were in our own territory, weren’t on bad terms with any other groups beyond the usual and I didn’t see anyone coming; trust me, I’m pretty vigilant about that sort of thing.” The Yakuza-turned-reaper let out a sigh. “I would have seen an enemy coming. The fact that I didn’t probably means it was my own family that took me out and I don’t have any idea why. It also means they used some kid to do the hit, which pisses me off almost as much as the killing itself. Use a damn professional if you’re gonna take me out.”
The reaper let out a sigh, but it sounded more tired than angry; it was an old annoyance at this point.
“I guess that’s why I stuck around; wanting to find out why I was killed. That’s also why I became a Reaper as well; to have a better chance of finding answers, in between the work we do. Besides, being a Reaper isn’t that much different from being a Yakuza; you’ve just gotta follow orders and pay your respects up the ladder, and not worry about getting your hands dirty every now and then. It’s good work and I’d say I was good at that sort of thing but… you know.” Ogawa raised a hand to the side of his head and placed a finger against his temple to mime a gun, then rocked his head to the side as if mimicking being shot. “Had to have been a reason, right?”
✦ Magic Branch: Familiars – Ogawa’s magic is based around summoning temporary familiars in the form of animals to do his bidding. Using written spell talismans he is able to summon various animals to carry out his orders, usually scouting, but can also include tracking and fighting. In order to make the process of summoning smoother and more consistent, Ogawa has tattooed the forms of the animals he is able to summon onto his body; when he uses his magic the animals are created in the image of these tattoos, making them look more like living pieces of art than real creatures.
✦ Magic
✧ Tsubame: a swift flying bird, particularly useful as a scout due to the bird-eyes view it can get. Ogawa has a tattoo of a sparrow on the inside of his left forearm. ✧Kitsune: a cunning canine, able to track spirits using its sensitive nose. Ogawa has a tattoo of a fox on the outside of his left bicep, appearing to chase the sparrow down his arm. ✧Hebi: a serpent, able to sneak its way into places his other familiars cannot, but isn’t much use otherwise. Ogawa has a tattoo of a snake coiling around his right forearm. ✧ Tora: a powerful predator, it is the only familiar Ogawa is likely to call on in a fight. Ogawa has a large tattoo of a tiger covering most of his back.
✧ RisusSpoken Selecting a target in her line of sight, Catherine causes this person to be overcome with violent laughter for a period not exceeding 90 seconds. It certainly hurts, but little damage is done to them besides temporary incapacitation and exhaustion.
✧ SistoSpoken This spell is perhaps the most versatile in her book, and for good measure. Catherine selects up to three people in her line of sight to be magically bound, unable to move for up to five minutes. Being harmed interrupts the spell, but it's very good for capture missions.
✧ ImperatumSpoken Once the target is under this spell (as long as they can hear her, this time), Catherine can issue a single command to her target that they will be magically compelled to follow. Of course, these commands exclude things like harming themselves or harming someone close to them. The spell can be resisted by those with a very strong will.
✧ SaltareSpoken An area of effect spell applied across a 15 feet dome of people. Anyone caught within the range of Saltare is magically compelled to dance uncontrollably for up to ten minutes, unable to move from their location or to attack (magically or otherwise) others.
✦ Texty Stuff:
The jeers and screams rang in Catherine’s ears as she knelt on the ground before the Mother Superior. Her heart beat like a rabbit’s in her chest, her hands bound with rope before her. Was this really happening? She raised her head to meet those of the older woman before her, trying her best not to sob. She would go to her death composed, as she was only moments away from meeting God. She kissed the little statue the older woman was holding. “Mother,” she said. “May I die?”
“Permission granted,” she said, and Catherine found herself rising, climbing the scaffolding towards the guillotine. Her sisters held onto her arms as she climbed, pushing her up, up, up, but all she felt was a spreading numbness. Her breath hitched. She felt the urge to adjust her habit, an awful nervous habit of hers, but her hands were tied before her and she could not raise them. To keep herself from crying, she began to pray, a quiet litany. Then, the executioner’s hands were upon her, gently pushing her onto the board. The crowd below had gone quiet. She knew they would be cheering soon.
The executioner said something- some apology, she supposed- slid her in, and then… she was calm, as she stared up at the sky and the blade. This would be alright. It wouldn’t hurt. She was the first of them to die, a mercy, and she would meet God with her sisters in moments. It would be alright.
The blade fell.
She opened her eyes in a place very much unlike where she had been before.
Catherine was standing atop a hill, underneath a beautiful arch, before a spring. A city unfolded beyond the hill. Her blue-gray eyes settled upon it for a moment, thoughtless but for a small smile spreading across her face. Heaven. This was heaven. It didn’t look much like she had thought heaven would, but mortals could so rarely predict the whims of the Lord. He had seen it fit to bless her with eternity in paradise. Overcome, Catherine dropped to her knees, chanting out prayers in Latin. “Oh, Glory be to God…” She murmured for perhaps a full minute, finally opening her eyes when she realized no one was there with her. It was silent. Her sisters had not arrived yet.
Puzzled, she approached the arch, watching. Waiting. Was there not supposed to be someone here, she thought? To count her sins, to admit her to heaven? After a few more minutes of waiting, Catherine determined with some measure of confusion that they were not coming. Why were they not here? With a wide-eyed look on her face, she took a seat on a bench, smoothing out the skirts of her habit. Someone would come.
An hour later, someone did. A person came walking up the hill, and Catherine rose to greet them. This must be the saint. Perhaps he was… late. It was bizarre to think of a saint as being late, but she’d accept it. “Bonjour,” she said, and the man looked at her in confusion. “Are you… are you God?” she asked, tentatively.
The man raised a brow. “I wish I was God,” he remarked. “Then I wouldn’t have to fucking go down there and do this shit all the time. Goddamn.”
Catherine blinked, confused. “Where-where is God?”
“That’s a hell of a theological question, honey.”
“Well, I’m in heaven. Where is He?”
It took the man- disheveled, in his mid-40s- a moment to process. “Ohhh. You’re new. Honey, welcome to Decibitus. Not heaven,” he said, snorting, and then walked away towards the gate.
Decibitus. Catherine spoke enough Latin to know that word. It meant deceived. She stood there dumbly, not understanding. Where else would she be if not in heaven?
Aron is a man of large stature. Meaty, you could say. There was never much time for him to work on toning down in the later years of his life and while there’s plenty of opportunity now in the almost-afterlife, all motivation for it has been reduced to dust with the whole being dead thing. His hair is naturally dark and wavy, cropped on the sides and styled in the cut of his contemporaries - about as well-groomed as a mullet could possibly be. His facial hair varies frequently, sometimes going from a full mo to untrimmed stubble. His usual expression is a deadpan (or is it vacant?) stare out over the horizon.
As for his attire, Aron dresses in simple masculine fashion. Subtle, patterned button ups, his most reliable pair of Timbs. Whenever he’s heading ‘out’, so to speak, he’ll chuck a hoodie and thick jacket over it if needed. He permanently has a pair of Oakley® sunnies somewhere on his person.
On occasion, he’ll have some elaborate nail art adorning his hands. It is not clear where he gets them from.
Age: 28 Gender: Male
Weapon: An obsidian bo staff. Aron thought the bo was pretty flash back when they were working with that Chinese client. As a bonus, the staff can retract its form into something resembling a tablet pen-like baton.
Magic Branch: Motion, or at least Aron’s perception of it.
Scale
A verbal spell that manipulates the time scale of an object or being’s intended motion. It affects only one target, either speeding or slowing it down. ‘Intended motion’ can be a difficult concept for Aron to decide upon, especially when it comes to a living target with potentially dissenting ideas, leading to some potentially unpredictable results. This spell merely changes the time taken to get from Point A to Point B, it does not alter the force behind a motion.
Scale... 2 (“The, uh, the up and down of it, y’know?”)
That’s what Aron’s second spell is for. With this one, he can manipulate the force behind a motion. Verbal to increase it up to twicefold, written to increase or decrease it up to fourfold. A-okay when it comes to inanimate objects, but when it comes to living targets and their physical limitations…
“Look, how was I supposed to know his bones were so brittle?”
Frameshell
With this spell, Aron can copy-paste the actions of a target within a four second timeframe back onto the target, essentially making the target repeat the exact action. The verbal spell affects just physical movement, while the written extends to other spells or magical effects. The more Aron forces a repeat of the same action, the more unstable the spell becomes.
When frameshelling spells, Aron can simply make the target recite and recast the spell in the four second timeframe. When it comes to written spells however, since they would have their inscriptions eaten up on activation, they would not be reactivated/refreshed outside of circumstances like "the target had multiple prepared copies of the spell on hand" or "the target had a very simple written spell that could be written and reactivated within the timeframe".
Keyframe
The creation of motion. With the verbal spell, he can manipulate an inanimate object in a manner akin to telekinesis, translating its components in five second bursts. The written spell manipulates a living or magical unit for five seconds. With a puppeteer’s precision, Aron can twist and translate the movements of his target as he wishes.
However, the written spell has a chance of “breaking the rig”, a possibility of exceeding the physical and logical limitations of the target and leaving them to reap the consequences of that when the spell wears off. Since a living being's form has a natural state to return to, such injury can be avoided with enough concentration on Aron's part. For the most part, the aftermath is a severe dislocation. In extreme cases - "...Ripping. That's really the only word for it."
Beings with a higher volume of flesh find it easier to avoid these accidents.
“So why’d I say ‘yes’?”
The man scratched the back of his head and cast his eyes into another corner of the room. Gave a loose shrug.
“I’d, uh, never been to Portugal before.”
Hm. Right, he was meant to elaborate here. Context, he almost always forgot.
“The board. With the jobs ‘n all. I saw, uh, Portugal. And Chicago, maybe…? The orientation guy pointed it out, said you’d have to go all over, rounding up ghosts or whatever you do.”
No response from the other end of the table. Just continued staring, pen poised over the clipboard and… oh, that was a nod. Keep going, sure.
“I was meant to go with some mates last year.” That sounded right, unless time was all dogged in this city. “But work – my contract and shit – y’know. No annual leave approved ‘til the screener’s done. So yeah, didn’t go.”
Pen scratched across paper. Oh, this was being recorded. Fuck, he just swore too. Uhhh. Did this place have a HR department? This evaluation session wasn’t important, was it? Oh no. No way he was gonna get written up in his first week here.
“It’s also cos I’m so good at…” Remember those job interview tips, Aron. “Getting bossed around…? And grunt work. I mean, lifting and all that. I had a summer job at a classmate’s uncle’s tradie company for a bit, hauling stuff. And quotas. I did those when I was alive.”
He nodded.
“Hitting them. Yeah.”
The interviewer’s pen had stopped. That… that was good, right?
“That’s why I said yes to the Reaper gig. Because I’d be so…” He straightened his posture. Like a professional. “…so good at it.”
