Name: Karla

Age: Unknown

Gender: Female

Height: 5'5'' ~165cm

Weight: 54kg ~119lb



Dream — The Menagerie

A strange and shifting space, with the only consistent feature being its collection of creatures, both real and imagined. Sometimes it appears as an ancient and advanced laboratory, with creatures locked away in glass tubes of an indescribable sort. At others, it's a more rustic location, with proper enclosures, sometimes with accessible entrances Karla can use to get close to the critters. Sometimes, the enclosures are easy for the animals to escape from. Sometimes, there are no enclosures at all, with all of its fauna roaming free in an open field still being set up for construction. At the worst of times, it's an endless stretch of untamed wildlands with predators lurking behind every bush, or an indistinguishable black mass of varying body types pressing in on all sides—an inescapable and crushing nightmare come to life, threatening to consume and swallow Karla whole. Sometimes, Karla finds herself in an enclosure, usually with an inmate... but not always. Sometimes, she wonders if she is part of the Menagerie.

Personality/Bio:

Look into Karla's eyes, and you'll see the face of a girl who's used to disappointment. When your ability as a Dreamer results in the constant presence of animal companions, it turns out that civilized society has no place for you to belong. Sure, you might find a few apartment complexes that allow pets, with some caveats. You may even find one or two workplaces in the entire world that allow an emotional support animal—but summoning a common house cat or golden retriever is about as likely as winning the lottery. You'll never find the likes of, say, a starfish, an ostrich, or a whole-ass crocodile under that umbrella, either—and while there are plenty of places full of people "willing to work with animals," what they really mean is that they require their employees to be willing to work with their animals. Nobody is willing to work with hers.

One might think that her place to belong is obviously among other Dreamers, and while that isn't exactly wrong, it's not exactly right, either. Karla has zero control, more or less, over what is summoned, and whether or not she can command it. She's spent most of her life drifting from group to group, hoping to impress enough to earn a day's wage or at least a meal. Knowing that it's only a matter of time until she summons something as useless as a toy dinosaur or as dangerous as a saber-toothed tiger, she never allows herself to get too attached to anyone, least of all her animal companions which are largely responsible for her misery and don't even have the courtesy of sticking around to serve as substitute friends. They all eventually disappear, leaving her alone again. Even her mother abandoned her long ago, and she no longer remembers her family name or how old she is. The only silver lining is that no matter how disobedient her summons may be, the worst they'll do is ignore her. Most of the time she doesn't have to deal with the dangers of traveling alone, and for that, she's grateful.

Having spent all of her days surrounded by animals and most of her nights sleeping in the wilderness, she is pretty much numb to the inherent terrors mother nature holds over most "civilized people." She's used to the various howls and cries, and can easily tell them apart from the otherworldly noises made by nightmares. She has a sense for real danger, knowing when to pack up and go. If she awakens to the sensation of a snake or spider on her skin, she'll quickly go back to sleep. She naturally possesses many survival skills that other Dreamers have to be trained for, as well as some that they aren't, such as—mercifully—how to make soap. Whereas other Dreamers often forget these skills as they rise through the ranks, they are so ingrained in Karla that she'll never lose them. She has that impossibly practical and paradoxical nature of having the eye for details, but the personality type of not sweating the small stuff. She travels light, her greatest luxuries being the handful of multi-tools she's found and repaired while exploring the ruins of the old world—her finest treasures, if you were to ask her.

Richtor

Gender
Male

Age
23

Name: Sarah Cordell

Gender: Female

Age: 26

Appearance:

Standing at 5'4", with soft features, Sarah would look unassuming if not for her typically unfriendly body language and near-constant scowl. She's learned from an early age to cultivate an air than makes people not want to get on the wrong side of her. She opts for practical, loose-fitting clothing that's easy to move in and that she doesn't mind getting dirty. Her light blonde hair is kept reasonably short at shoulder length. Her eyes used to be brown, but turned pink when she got her dream, making it difficult to hide that she's a Dreamer.

Personality: A no-nonsense pragmatist, Sarah is focused on doing what it takes to get by, and has no time for heroism or any nobler goal - at least, that's what she claims. Raised to be cynical, distrustful and ruthless, she never really had any childhood sense of wonder. Upon gaining her dream, however, she's developed more of a sense of idealism. Instead of merely being bitter about the state of the world, she's caught herself doing little things to make it a slightly better place for some people - all while denying that was her intent. Wouldn't want anyone thinking she's gone soft, after all.

Between having lost loved ones and being on her guard against betrayal, she tries not to grow too attached to people, and has a hard time getting close. Not helping is her gruff and grouchy demeanour. Once she spends long enough around others though, she does often develop more of a soft spot for them than she outwardly lets on.

Dream: Magical Girl
A cheery and colourful fairytale realm, where the stars shine bright. A dream of battling against monsters, taking down evil royals who dare invade, bringing hope and joy to civilians. A dream of clear-cut morality, where justice always prevails.

From this dream, Sarah can currently summon two things. One is a frilled and ribboned white costume with pink, blue and rose gold highlights, which replaces whatever she's wearing and gives a further boost to her already Dreamer-typical strength and toughness, as well as increasing agility. The downside is that it's about as practical as it looks, and can snag on things if she's not careful. It's most likely only thanks to the agility boost that she can even run in those shoes.

The other is a pink heart-shaped wand with a ribbon tied around it. This allows Sarah to use a basic smite attack which takes the form of a glittering energy blast, and also grants minor healing abilities. As she learns to delve further into the dream, she'll be able to summon different wands, granting fire, ice and lightning powers. Naming her moves, shouting them out, and posing adds to their strength.

Only she can use the wands, and she can only summon one at a time, although she can summon both the costume and a wand at once.

Bio: As the daughter of two Shardhunters, scraping by in the poorer outskirts of a Nova Republic city, Sarah grew up with no illusions of how unforgiving the world was. When they weren't away on perilous searches, her parents taught her to take what she could from life and give back as little as possible. A world like this was no place for kindness; it was best to look out only for oneself and one's immediate family. Anyone else was either not worth caring about, or a potential threat.

These words rang particularly true after her father passed away when she was 14, murdered by a group of scavengers while on a mission. After that, her mother doubled down on her self-defense lessons, as now Sarah would have to join her to gather shards and secure resources. For a few years, they worked together, but shards were few and far in between. One day, her mother also failed to return from a hunt - this time, it had been a rival Shardhunter who'd literally backstabbed her. At age 19, Sarah was now on her own, save for the tense alliances Shardhunters formed when necessary. Growing close to anyone was a liability - all too commonly, they'd either die, or betray their allies.

More years passed, and it was only a matter of time until one of Sarah's hunts went badly awry. She'd been lucky enough to find a shard, but as she and her group travelled back towards the city, a creature attacked. A mutated being that bore only the vaguest resemblance to a human. A Nightmare, whose territory she'd just stumbled into. In desperation, she tore off one of her gloves and grabbed the crystal with her bare hand. Images of a brighter world, starkly contrasting with hers, flooded her mind as the shard vanished into her skin. She mentally called out into the dream for something she could use to defend herself and her fellow hunters. In a flurry of sparkles, her shabby old clothes turned into - a frilly dress? And the "weapon" she now held was a pink, beribboned, heart-shaped wand?

For all her confusion, she found her physical skills significantly boosted, allowing her to evade the monster's attacks - until she tripped up in her high heels. As it made to lunge, she pointed the wand at it. The words "Sparkling Smite" echoed in her head, and feeling more than a tad ridiculous, she repeated them. A glittering energy burst knocked the monster back, giving her time to stand. A few punches and Sparkling Smites later, the Nightmare fell dead.

The immediate threat was gone, but now Sarah found herself faced with another problem - specifically, that she was now a Dreamer living in a city that hated and feared them. She couldn't exactly blame the fearful either, considering the non-infintessimal risk that she'd turn into the same abomination she'd defeated. So, she wasted no time in getting registered, in order to capture criminals and take down more Nightmares. Her intentions were more pragmatic than heroic; it was a matter of surviving and keeping her home. Even so, she found some of the dream's idealism rubbing off on her. There was something rewarding about saving people and bringing dangerous thugs to justice, and it wasn't just the money.

But as her view of the world slowly changed, so did her view of the job. She grew to despise having to represent the Republic as flawless beacons of morality, when they really only cared about power, rather than about their citizens. And some of the "criminals" they told her to go after were hardly that bad. Some were just desperate, like she'd once been - she'd committed her own petty thefts from richer folks when she was younger.

Which is why she ended up turning her back on the Republic for a Dreamer settlement, surviving on her wits and resources as she always had - while deep down, wondering if things really could change for the better.

Name: Samantha

Gender: Female

Age: She’ll never say

Appearance:


Personality: You could be around Sam for months and still not know any concrete thing about her. Samantha likes to put up a brave front, quiet and distant. Often she will slip away into her daydreams. She is incredibly slow to trust those around her, after all even those closest to you are able to betray that trust in an instant. Behind that colder exterior she is incredibly skittish underneath. Easily frightened and her first instinct in a dangerous situation is to turn tail and run. She’s grown accustomed to trying to hide that fear to avoid showing weakness to those who would try and exploit it. Underneath it all though is a soft heart that Sam is too afraid to reveal to anyone else easily.

Dream: Rolling fields of the softest grass stretch before you into infinity. Trees lazily sway in the wind, the rustling of leaves gently singing in the wind. You see sprawls of rabbits, all shapes and sizes, playing in the dirt. A gentle calm washes your body as you lay down with your furry companions, happiness is all you know.

Sam’s dream is of peace, and of course rabbits. A small safe haven for her. She found inner peace with her tiny friends; A home away home. Sam quickly learned that within this dream she was able to conjure forth rabbits to her side. Small hordes would arrive at her side with summons, a nice little herd to snuggle with. She also noticed that she could will her body to jump further among the hills.

Occasionally Sam would settle into her dream expecting her normal serene skies and golden fields only to be greeted by an eerie silence. A gray fog settles down amongst the plains as distant screams can be heard. The weight of guilt and fear makes it almost impossible to breathe. The rabbits are nowhere to be seen. The grass was out of control, growing up to her neck. Rustling amongst the distant weeds causes the overwhelming sensation of dread to wash over you…
(>owo)>

Bio: All that Sam remembers of the day she was sold was just how cold the walk was. Her parents sold her to a group of Shardhunters when she was only 7. They had been poor all their lives, barely being able to keep all 4 of her siblings alive and fed. As she was the oldest, she was used to long days of work and late nights cooking and cleaning. But she knew that she had to do it. Her siblings' smiles at the end of the day was worth it. Especially Elliot, her 3 year old brother. His laugh felt like the sun.

Mid-winter was when her parents sold all 5 of them off to the group. They left with only the clothes on their back, so the wind was bitter and harsh. It was the last day she felt truly, actually happy. Once sold, her siblings and her were used as bait for Nightmares. Week after week she would be dragged from the room to go on “missions” they called these outings. Sometimes it was her and some of her siblings/cell mates. Sometimes it was just her siblings. And slowly but surely less and less returned. She weeped after the first sibling never came home. Eventually none of them came back. Sam was quiet and gone, daydreaming of another life in which they lived in solitude and peace. All hope of leaving was gone and all she could do was disassociate.

One day there was loud shouting outside of her room. A rival group had gotten into a fight with her captors. All hell broke loose, as she saw people jumping at each other, aiming to kill. Quickly she slipped from her room scuttling around to get out unspotted. In her sprint down the hallway, she was knocked into a random room. Someone had shoved her into this place and only half shut the door before they were pulled away. Terrified, she scrambled around the room, looking for another exit. Something glinted from the corner of her eye. Turning to it, she noticed a shard that had been left on a desk. She realized that this would be her way out, using its power could be what saved her despite the risk. Eventually she escaped, left with nothing to own her but with no one to take care of her.

Once on the streets she laid down in a dilapidated shack she had managed to find. She tossed and turned as nightmares racked her mind with anxiety. Suddenly as if it had never happened, her nightmare shifted. Her body relaxed a little as a beautiful dream calmed her nerves. It became her safe place, a way to slip away from just how shitty or bitter the day was.

Years went by as Sam slowly built a life for her. She would steal, craft and forage for all of her needs and wants. Her life was simple, but cozy. She avoided people as much as she could, terrified that she would run into her captor again, somehow. The survivors' guilt got better slowly over time, but sometimes it would come back full force on the worst of nights.

Echo is a young individual with a diminutive height of approximately 5'4. His hair is in disarray, displaying a dark ashen gray hue, suggesting that he might not have combed it for quite some time. Echo's striking, sky-blue eyes are seemingly adorned with intricate patterns and webs within his irises, making him stand out even more. His skin tone is pale, and he has a few small scars on his hands and fingers, which appear to be from a needle. Echo keeps it simple yet chic with his circular black-framed glasses, and he always carries spares for convenience.

On many occasions, he can be seen wearing a striking combination of black and blue clothing. This includes a pair of navy blue sweatpants, sturdy combat boots, a black long-sleeved shirt, and a distressed denim jacket. Additionally, he often carries a small metal pole as a means of safeguarding himself.


Echo is a multifaceted individual who can effortlessly shift between being serious and humorous. He has a remarkable talent for generating quick-witted remarks and making puns, even in challenging situations. He derives pleasure from finding amusement in the most insignificant details and derives immense satisfaction from sharing his humor with others. At times, Echo alludes to himself as a "serious joker" due to his ability to maintain an appropriate balance between humor and seriousness.

He is ceaseless in his passion for patterns, finding meaning in even the most trivial of things as if they were all connected somehow. A hidden web of possibility and mutual relevance.


The Weaving, or alternatively, The Spider.

The sight of a luminous and sparkling web, resembling a pattern formed by rays of sunshine, is truly captivating. It is a symbol of hope and intense emotions and a delicate work of art that requires careful preservation.

Echo's Dream is an extensive collection of intricate patterns that he can bring to life in the physical world. He can manifest them as ethereal strands of energy or as a cozy quilt to provide warmth to himself or his companions, as well as other thread-based things. His fascination with patterns and the way they reflect his state of mind, coupled with his interest in the mystical, creates a cryptic yet alluring depiction of his perception of the world.

Echo, despite his weaving skills, frequently finds himself ensnared in the intricate patterns and webs he creates, struggling to extricate himself from the tangled mess.


Echo is an only child, his father is a retired Shardhunter, and his mother is a practicing doctor.

Residing on the edge of the bustling trading district of a Nova Republic city situated in the barren and desolate wastelands, Echo's life was far from effortless. However, he possessed an exceptional ability to observe and discern the behavioral patterns of those around him, surpassing the perceptiveness of most of his peers. Despite his inclination to solitude, he remained captivated by the intricacies of the world surrounding him, perpetually seeking out the telltale patterns that were left behind by all things.

Despite their limited resources, his parents did everything in their power to provide him with the best upbringing possible. His mother imparted to him important skills such as sewing, stitching, and treating wounds, while his father instilled in him the value of learning from those around him and the situations he encountered. To him, life was akin to a fragile tapestry that was continuously being woven. However, when Echo was 19, a dream turned into a harrowing Nightmare, causing the tapestry of his life to unravel before his very eyes.

The edge of town was attacked by a Nightmare, slaughtering anything that breathed that it came into contact with. So many people died, including his mother. His father gave him an Old World Shard, one that he had been keeping a secret from his days as a Shardhunter, and told him to run, to run, and never look back.

Echo managed to slip away with his life and his father’s Shard, wrapped in a handkerchief. He had lost what he thought was everything in his life, unsure if his dad had ever actually made it out… Guided by fear, he thought that he had nothing else to lose. And pressed the Shard to his open palm.

The whispers were few, but loud. From his fingers came webs of ethereal light, a pattern of his mother’s favorite ancient symbol, a Celtic knot. He held it close to his heart as he cried, mourning the death of his mother.

After escaping, he sought refuge in a community of Dreamers. In the following three years, he delved deeper into the boundless possibilities of his newfound Dream. His unwavering determination to find his father alive rekindled his hope, and he ventured out into the remnants of the world, hoping to find some evidence of his father's survival.

Name: Michelina 'Mickie' Barlowe

Gender: Female

Age: 21



She stands at a meek 5'2, with bright red wavy hair that falls almost to her waist. Her ocean blue eyes hold a bit of mystery to them. Mickie likes to wear outfits that show off her body, usually wearing crop tops and tight leggings. She is thin, but not frail. Her body is slim and athletic.

Personality: Mickie is a straight up bitch. She doesn't care about anybody but herself and loves being the boss of anything and everything.

Or so she wishes to be. In truth, her outer personality is kind, caring, and acceptive. But that isn't who she really wants to be. Mickie wants her voice to be heard, but she feels invisible and that stirs the pot of anger deep within her.

Dream: Swash-buckling pirates. In this dream, Mickie finds herself able to manifest a ship that she has dubbed the Sea Queen. Over time she has been able to summon a pirate crew of four burly men who call their captain Bloodthirsty Mick. When they manifest, her outfit always changes into a hat, boots, corset top and tight britches.

Bio: Not much is known about Mickie's background. As far as she remembers, she was left on someone's front steps when she was just a baby. Ever since then, she was continually passed off to whoever wanted to care for her. That created a lot of resentment in her as a child as she felt nobody truly wanted or cared for her. It continued to happen until she was sixteen and she had had enough.

Running out on her latest foster family, Mickie has been on her own ever since. She found work in a local shop dealing with herbs and medicinal items as the cashier when she was eighteen. It was at that time that she found a shining bright crystal in their garden one day, seemingly something left by a vendor. Not knowing anything about shards, she reached down and wrapped her bare hand around the item.

Then, her entire world changed.

Name: Kassander (Kass)
Gender: M

Age: 25

Appearance:



Personality: Frankly, aloof would be understating Kass. His dream curses him with a nigh inability to tell anything but his omens. He speaks in cryptic riddles and poetry befitting a raving madman, but a knowing pair of eyes belies the man underneath; a caring, gentle soul, bound by solemn purpose.

One might see him run into the forest, muttering about some lost bluejay, only to be seen later escorting a lost child clad in blue to their family. There is a dim fire within the otherwise meek man. Something driving him forward through, and indeed in spite of, the cruelty he has known.

Few know the enigmatic soul beneath the madness, but he will brave heaven’s wrath and hell’s fire for those he holds dear. He will lose nothing more.

Still, don’t expect this guy to give a speech on your wedding day.

Dream: Alexandria is a shifting library of towering stacks and halls branching out in every direction. Within this space are the omens inscribed by Kassander. The sacred memories of those who came before, fraught with hyperbole and emotion. In one scroll the memory of a father teaching his son to ride a bike; in another, hellfire engulfs a jungle and ashes fall like rain.

Kass is both caretaker and wielder of these memories. Each memory a wish to be relived by the souls within. For each memory Kass is given an omen. He knows not what the memory will show him, but he knows with certainty when and where he must be to release it. With each memory released the memory becomes his own, and a piece of himself is returned to him. His end of some long-forgotten bargain.

When defending himself, Kass’s powers are twofold. At times, Kass may summon a particularly powerful memory to aid him. Perhaps he summons the wildfire, or perhaps simply the memory of a smith’s prized blade and armor. The actual magnitude of the memory varies, but when a memory is released, it becomes ingrained into his own memories. This takes a great toll on his mind, and he must often retreat into the library to sift through and parse his own memories out from the rest.

The second manifestation of Alexandria is the library itself. Kass may summon torrents of paper and leather to bind, cut, and protect. The scrolls within the library are, after all, living memories, with the will to protect themselves and their master.

Bio: Kass’s real name was one of the first things to go, in those few, maddening moments of lucidity; before he put prophecy to scroll. He remembers the smell of smoke, clamoring to find the scroll in the ashes. He remembers the snow stinging his feet as he ran; as he was begged to run. The smoke choking his lungs as he left them behind. He remembers the pitter patter of a thousand formless footsteps going with him, etched into him.

He does not remember their faces. He does not remember their names. He wants to forget the hurt; forget the lost; forget the forgetting.

But he remembers the cabin.

He remembers home. A burbling creek interrupting a quiet July day; crackle of a fire and the first chill of winter; white ravens in the nest on the high peak. He remembers what his family’s love felt like.

He cannot remember who gave him the stone. The “gift”, they called it. He remembers the running; the raving; the enmaddening. Visions in the holes his mind used to fill. He almost forgot it all, but he couldn’t. He needed to remember what he couldn’t forget, and so the first scroll he did make, and inscribed it upon himself; that he would never forget.

In time, more of his omens were inscribed, with manic fervor. He seldom knew their meaning, but they always came to pass. All but the first, anyway. He carried the prophecies with him to where they needed to be when they needed to pass, and when it was their time, he released them. Those few who came to know him gave the roving vagrant a fitting name: Kassander, the mad prophet. The piece of himself that is himself now govern him as he dutifully shepherds the omens where they must be, and all the while tries to put the pieces back together.

He must remember what slipped away. He must know what he needed so badly to forget.