[hider=Pom Evergreen][CENTER][h1][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/b3RmLjEwNi5kZWI4ODcuVUc5dElFVjJaWEpuY21WbGJnLjE/hippie-movement.regular.webp[/img][/h1] [youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkTXcwc3zvk[/youtube] [/CENTER] [i]“Hey man, you cool?"[/i] [table][row][/row][row][cell] [center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/a9/ad/eb/a9adeb9d346638a6fda8c18d116b4ea3.jpg[/img] [sup]_______________________________________________[/sup] [sub]Pomegranate “Pom” Evergreen She/Her [b]|[/b] 99 [b]|[/b] “Wood” Elf (Celtic Broadleaf) [b]|[/b] 5’5” [b]|[/b] 110 lbs [sup]_______________________________________________[/sup] Uproot [sup]_______________________________________________[/sup] Skills & Talents[/sub] [i]"Good at picking out the best slice of apple pie at the diner. The secret is you go with cherry instead."[/i] [sup]___________________________________[/sup][/center][hider=] [sub] [b][Green Thumb] ⫻[/b] Pom is an avid gardener and is happiest when she’s futzing around in her garden and greenhouse. It’s not uncommon for her to show up to work at the diner with a brown lunch bag full of homegrown veggies or to slip someone a plastic baggie full of homegrown herb. Until magic kicked everything in the teeth, Pom had a (poorly thought out) plan to become an independent coffee grower instead of just a part-time coffee pourer. [b][Folk “Singer”] ⫻[/b] Pom was present when American folk music was at its apex, but she also enjoyed the traditional songs of her particular commune of wood elves song in their old tongue. Occasionally she tries to pen her own songs, but Pom largely sticks to the classics like “the one that sounds like two cats fighting while a third one cries out for blood” or the absolute banger of “hey mom, just poking my head in here to make sure that you weren’t choking on a granola bar”. To put it kindly, her singing voice is, er, unique. [b][Home Remedies] ⫻[/b] Pom knows for a fact that Big Pharma is nothing more than the Man in disguise and doctors are just like pushers with college debt. Sure, go to them for a surgery or whatever, but just about everything else can be cured with a bit of ginger, some St. John’s wort, a little bit of this, some of that, and a shot of colloidal silver. [b][Thrifty v. Shiesty] ⫻[/b] Growing up with next to nothing made Pom real good at making that go a long way. She’s frugal as fuck and is more than happy to share her pro tips with anybody who would listen. Eat oatmeal for breakfast and pack a sack lunch instead of going out for food. What’s in that sack lunch? More oatmeal. Repurpose just about everything: old shirts become a “new” quilt that eventually become “free” cleaning rags. Never pay a parking ticket or a speeding ticket from a camera because there simply is no proof that you weren’t the victim of a car thief or having an evil twin situation. The code for bananas at self-checkout is 4011, this applies for pretty much every major retail grocery store, and the only person hurt by you “accidentally” ringing those expensive ass macadamia nuts as bananas is the Man. [/sub][/hider] [/cell][cell][sub][b] Appearance[/b][/sub] [sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub] [i]"Retro? But fringe never went out of style…"[/i] [indent]Pom is a wood elf, which is like a regular elf but a bit more folksy, a lot less snooty, and has stronger opinions when it comes to the ageless argument of which is better: pine or oak? Oak, by the way, it’s oak. Pom looks young because she’s an elf but also she looks young for her elf. She’s obviously old enough to be more than a sapling yet it’s still surprising when she actually (albeit rarely) admits to how many rings she has grown. Her eyes are brown like dirt after rainfall and it’s atypical to find them neither heavily bloodshot nor dilated. Her messy, shoulder length hair is jet black that contrasts with her light, freckled skin. In a moment of desperation to fit in with the youths, Pom has dyed two streaks of blonde through her hair, tucked just behind her pointed ears. Pom has a slender body that she drowns in oversized, handknitted sweaters that drape like they were a poncho or cosplays as a younger version of herself with a psychedelic tye-dyed t-shirt and an absolutely sick fringe jacket she had since Woodstock. Pretty much everything else in her wardrobe evokes an image of the late sixties and early seventies. Pom has pierced ears, with the only other jewelry she wears is her wedding ring, a cheap silver ring designed to look like a small daisy chain. Her fingernails seemingly have a permanent streak of dirt underneath them from digging around in her garden, yet her hands are somehow soft and uncalloused despite the endless war on weeds. Pom is fidgety and skittish, unable to stand still without playing with her hair, rearranging the countertop, or disorganizing somebody’s desk. Seemingly always overstimulated and unable to focus, her eyes often darting each and every way around a room except in a way that’d force her to make eye contact. She has a deep, raspy voice and a bad tendency of speaking in a rapid, stumbling mumble, making it difficult to parse if she’s attempting to strike up a conversation or just talking through her own thoughts. Pom can be easily tracked by the strong smell of patchouli which follows her like a choking cloud of miasma. [/indent] [/cell][/row][/table][sub][b] Psychology[/b][/sub] [sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub] [i]“Let’s not get too heavy. All you gotta know is that I’m a hip, hip, hip lady."[/i] [INDENT][b]MAIN GOAL ⫻[/b] She wants to be forever young. Pom is in the beginning stages of a midlife crisis, already throwing her own life into a chaotic reset before magic made its way into the mixup. The thought of turning one hundred has taken control of Pom’s life. She is desperate to prove that she is still groovy, hip, radical, fly, phat, a bomb in a bag of chips, dope that has been lit and is on fire, or whatever the heck it is that the kids these days are saying in the latest failed attempt to replace cool. She might pretend that her biggest desire was for her coffee startup to become a success before switching back to wanting to publish a field guide on cryptids when magic sprung them back into existence, but really nothing would make Pom happier than the approval of some young cool cat telling her that she’s the bee's knees. [b]PHILOSOPHY ⫻[/b] Life is precious and all aspects of it should be respected unless that aspect is part of the fucking Man. Born amongst a loose conclave of wood elves that roamed the American Southwest before settling down in San Francisco, Pom was raised on the virtues of peace and love that would one day be appropriated by humans and become the hippie movement. Of course Pom would never call herself a hippie today, given how the word can evoke images of burnouts who melted their brains on acid created and weaponized by the Man or culty psychopaths breaking into the home of a Hollywood actress and going all Helter Skelter. Still, Pom is a Flower Child at heart. She’s an ungrounded hopeless romantic with a glass half full of psychedelic tea and an openness for new experiences and experimentation that can, at times, be borderline irresponsible. Pom views herself as being highly ethical, following a vegan and conservationist lifestyle that, while occasionally borderlines on acting holier-than-thou to those who don’t, rarely becomes preachy. She’s also very open about her hatred for the undefined Man, but Pom believes she is able to currently curtail her more anarchistic beliefs by championing nonviolence and peaceful protest over radical actions. However, this might simply be due to her living a life that was idyllic and pastoral enough that Pom had simply never been pushed to the point of challenging these beliefs. [b]SECRETS AND FEARS ⫻[/b] The worst kept secret in all of Twin Pines is that Pom is the friendly neighborhood drug dealer. Her stock is quite limited, especially during the winter time, as she almost exclusively sells organic products that she grows herself. The second worst kept secret in all of Twin Pines is Pom’s age, who despite claiming to still be a spring chicken exposes herself every time she opens her mouth and lets loose a dated piece of slang. The third worst kept secret is that Pom is a cryptozoologist and ufologist, and settled in Twin Pines to find proof of the local lake monster and has some weird theories about gnomes actually being aliens from Alpha Centauri that could be rustled out of her whenever she becomes heavily intoxicated. One thing that Pom has actually been able to keep secret is the actual source of her mistrust of elves in positions of power. Pom believes in the Lich Theory, a fringe belief based around the common folklore idea that elves originally didn’t age beyond maturity and were immune to disease, capable of only dying through murder or misadventure. At some point in history,the fear of unnatural death inspired a cabal of elven mages to get together and become liches, sacrificing the longevity of their kin to grant themselves true immortality. Lich Theory hypothesizes that this cabal of liches are still in power, greatly shortening the lifespan of all species so they can capture their souls inside their phylacteries and continually fuel their eternal life. How these liches actually go about this varies, but Pom claims to have first-hand witnessed an elf drain the soul out of another elf. She might have been tripping on psychedelics at the time and having a freak out, but she knows what she saw. The sudden reemergence of magic has only further convinced her that she is right. Regardless, Pom is absolutely terrified that she is little more than cattle for the cabal. While she carries with her the irrational fear of running into a lich in the wild and having her soul sucked from her body, this irrationality has become the base upon what is a relatively common, almost completely mundane fear: the fear of getting older, having witnessed first hand due to her primary associating with humans and other short-lived things just how debilitating aging can be. [b]SEXUALITY ⫻[/b] Pom was the free space on the backseat bingo card back during the Summer of Love before she got hitched and lived in (mostly) happy union for five decades with her human husband, Bo. It wasn’t like they never discussed what she’d do when he inevitably passed before she did, but the loss was still crushing. She doesn’t plan to spend her whole life alone, yet always finds a convenient excuse to not to pursue any eligible bachelors and bachelorettes that catch her eye or shoot their shot. [b]WHAT WAS THE FIRST DAY WITH MAGIC LIKE? ⫻ [/b] [hider=Like one bad trip, man]It had started like any other morning in the last two years–with a stab in her heart as she rolled over and saw the empty space. It was followed by the shattering discovery of her first gray hair, as if the thin wrinkle above her brow hadn’t been enough already. A quick stint in the greenhouse taking care of her babies then it was time to work at the diner, if it could be called work that day. Mostly Pom was just sitting in a booth in stunned silence alongside the usual early bird crowd of blue hairs as the news reports played on the TV, somewhat concerned that the fresh mushrooms she had added to her vegan omelette were accidentally the ones that contained psilocybin as vibrant colors radiated off of the customers and news anchors. The break from the mental mind fuck happened when Missy Fletcher walked in, slipped on some spilled coffee that nobody had bothered to clean up, and cracked her head viscously on the edge of a table when they were replaying footage of the attack on Athens. Pom watched as red blood washed out the black coffee, swearing she saw a faint wisp of gray smoke escape from Missy’s mouth alongside her last breath as her green light faded. As the diner exploded into chaos, patrons moving to assist the already deceased Missy in a mess of disco lights, Pom only continued to observe the body as a feeling of stillness and peace enveloped her. Her boss gained control of the situation eventually, clearing customers out of the diner, calling for first responders, and sending her employees home. Pom must’ve been in some kind of shock, or maybe she was just straight tripping out, because she drove herself to Missy’s house instead. She took the key from underneath the third brick along the walkway where she knew it always was despite never being to Missy’s before and unlocked the door, feeling a wave of love wash over her as she looked at the school and sport photos of Missy’s children. She was happy that they were out of the home. Happy that they were now safe. Then she saw Jim Fletcher sitting in his chair in front of the tv, a haze of green releasing off of him that matched the empty Rolling Rock bottles littered beside the La-Z-Boy. Pom knew about Jim more than she actually knew him, but the whispers were no good, and now the whispers were becoming a banshee wail of hate and rage in her ears. He was sleeping, or rather he was passed out, drunk before noon. Either way he didn’t shift as Pom felt something guide her body forward into the room. She bent down to pick up a beer bottle and caught a glimpse of her face in a mirror. She didn’t recognize the eyes as she lifted the bottle and smashed the end on the corner of a table. It didn’t break clean like it would in the movies. The last thing she remembered was staring at the shard of glass embedded in her palm as Jim started stirring in his seat. Pom came to balled up in the bottom of her shower, the water having turned so cold it felt like she was being pelted by icicles. She pulled herself out of the tub and flushed down the black bile sitting in the basin of the toilet. Definitely the wrong kind of mushrooms. It explained the lost time. Pom wiped her hand across the mirror and saw that the tired and puffy eyes that looked back at her were indeed her own. She wouldn’t register it until later, but the cut on her hand was gone, as was the strand of gray hair and the wrinkle above her brow. Maybe she had hallucinated the whole thing. But for now Pom laid down in her bed, still wet from the shower. She rolled over to say good night to the empty space beside her. Her breath caught in her throat as a chill ran down her spine. She stared at the silhouette of the back of his head and didn’t move, certain that it would notice her if she did, terrified about what would be staring back. [/hider] [b]FLAWS ⫻[/b] A person doesn’t live to be a century old and amount to becoming nothing more than a part-time waitress, a part-time drug dealer, and a full-time space case without there being one thing for certain: Pom is a fuckup of astronomical proportions. Big, bright dreams and grand, romantic desires amount to the bulk sum of jackshit when tripping her balls off in a field is more appealing than grinding out an actual goal. It’s ridiculous for her to be going through a midlife crisis when she never even fully embraced adulthood in the first place. She is one half of the two kids in a trenchcoat, except the other half grew old and now that the person whose shoulders she stood on is gone. There’s no wonder her son and daughter barely speak to her. What kid wants to have to nurse their own mother back to health from when an Ayahuasca trip goes south? She’s an embarrassment of a person, the pinata of unambition and laziness hoisted up by the Man to give the angry mob somebody else to point their sticks at when they’ve grown frustrated as to why they have to work so hard for so little. A failure, and one who, deep down, doesn’t only accept that she’s a failure but embraces it and secretly smiles about it, laughing to herself about it like it’s a joke only she knows. And really, isn’t it all just a joke? It's ridiculous how hard people try to make something out of themselves when the punchline is that their fate has already been sealed and they’ll be meaningless dust just like her and everyone before them. Yet Pom finds death, unlike aging, isn’t necessarily a bad thing. After all, it is only the existence of death that makes those moments of life oh so precious. Pom is also vehemently anti-authority, which can only be considered a flaw because that is what the Man wants people to believe, man. [/INDENT] [sub][b] Backstory[/b][/sub] [sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub] [i]"I know what I saw, man!"[/i] [indent]Her youth was spent dirty, hungry, and in destitution, growing up in a commune of wood elves that roamed the American Southwest. They lived off the land like their ancestors did, believing that if they respected the earth that Mother Nature would provide for them. At the time Pom didn’t question the traditions, only realizing later when she went and got herself an education that there probably hadn’t been trash bins to scavenge scraps of food from or massive barn houses to squat in when her ancestors were around. It didn’t really matter. At the time she thought she was happy. Sometimes a group of men would head out for a hunt and be gone for a couple of days, returning with a bounty of canned fruits or vegetables and bags upon bags of wondrous, sliced bread. Pom asked her father to join him on the hunt when it was his turn to go, but he said they were dangerous. She asked even for him, and he lied to her and said no, not for him. That was the last time she saw him. The men returned from that hunt with empty hands and bloody clothes, their numbers halved from what they had set out with. Her mother only ever told her that the Man had got her father when Pom asked what happened to him. She’d find newspaper articles in archives later about a gang of wood elves getting in a shootout with the police after an armed robbery of a grocer went south. The numbers of the commune continued to dwindle, this strange nightmarish creature known as the Man taking more and more of them whenever they stayed in one place for too long. They didn’t find safety from the Man until they made it to San Francisco, where the commune was hidden by the crowd. Other communes would join them in the city, and not only ones composed of wood elves. They were united by their common cause to stand against the Man and start an era of peace and love, planting the seeds of what would bud into the hippie movement. Pom got swept into like so many other people, and like so many other hippies she smoked a bit too much grass and dropped absolutely too much acid to really recall anything vividly. There were probably some protests and bra burnings and a lot of sitting naked on pillows while passing a bong around and pretending that she was bringing around some kind of revolution. One thing she is really certain of is the night she got invited backstage to hangout with Jam Lemon, where she watched the music legend and iconographic elven leader of their counterculture suck the soul out of a groupie while Yokai Oni began to carve off chunks of their husked flesh with a sacrificial dagger to eat. Pom’s fervent insistence on this was the kind of thing that got people to look at her funny, especially when she admitted to being on LSD at the time. The only person who didn’t treat her like an absolute nutcase was a human named Bo Winters, who, instead of looking away and pretending to be called away by someone else at the party, leaned in. It turned out Bo was a hunter like her father, but instead of hunting for grocers to rob he was hunting for proof of cryptids, and like Pom believed in all sorts of stupid shit like the existence of aliens to bigfoots to the possibility, no, the fact that Jam Lemon, formerly of the Beatles, was an evil elven lich. The two immediately hit it off, much to the relief of Pom’s friends who were all cutting their hair and looking to get into middle management. Pom and Bo would marry each other shortly thereafter and leave San Francisco, moving around before eventually settling in Twin Pines. Their marriage of fifty years was more happy than it was not, having a son named Ash and a daughter named Willow. Bo would ultimately serve as a stabilizing force to keep Pom grounded, who had always drifted freely, aimlessly, and haphazardly like a dandelion seed on the wind. He’d end up being the one to convince her to stop telling strangers the story about Jam Lemon, especially after his murder, or that cryptid hunting should maybe become a hobby and they should focus on doing something that would let them one day retire with him opening up a boat rental and offering lake tours with one of his fishing buddies and her getting a part-time job as a server to make ends meet. It was Bo that kept Pom from completely cutting ties with her son after he broke her heart by choosing to become a pawn for the Man when he joined the Marines. It was Bo that would cut Pom off anytime she tried to bring up the subject of having children around Willow, who had said since she was thirteen that she would never want to be a mother. It was Bo that comforted Pom when he got his diagnosis, telling her that “we” were going to be okay and that “we” would get through this when she should’ve been the one saying those words. It was Bo who kept saying these things over again and again, until one morning she awoke to an empty space where he used to sleep and a handwritten note that said about the same thing, just changing the “we” to a “you”. Then there was a knock on the door and it was the Man and he was there to tell her that the ground had been taken from her. Bo had told her this would happen in his note, even thanked her for giving him some things to want to hold onto, but said it would be for the best because without the ground to hold her down she was free to fly away again. Only Bo was mistaken. Pom never learned how to fly, she had only ever been blown by the wind, and now she was abandoned in an empty nest and the bough was breaking. She started to fall, and she fell, and she fell, and she fell. She’s been falling for two years now, and everytime Pom thinks she’s finally found the ground again it turns out she’s just snagged her sleeve on a twig jutting out from a branch and that stick is always about to snap. The same thing happened just a week ago, as Pom thought she finally was starting to feel the earth beneath her feet. Magic swiped her feet out from underneath her and everything around her suddenly became one bad trip.[/indent] [sub][b] Magic[/b][/sub] [sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub] [i]"This shit’s really freaking me out."[/i] [indent] [b]MAGIC ⫻[/b] Animancy, a school of magic allowing users to detect, interact, manipulate, and utilize the lifeforce inside of all living things and their lingering souls. [b]MAGIC DESCRIPTION ⫻[/b] Animancy is a form of magic that deals with all aspects of life, with life in this sense referring to both the physical and spiritual form. Animancy was once referred to as gray magic, as it contains aspects of both white magic as well as black magic, yet in practice it has always fallen closer to the harmful arts of Necromancy than the protective arts of Abjuration. Although they cannot control armies of the dead or raise flesh golems, Animancers were often looped in with their more sinister cousins despite their abilities to preserve life. This is because Animancy has one major caveat required by most spells within its school: lifeforce must be spent by the Animancer to cast a spell. In turn, to avoid an early grave many Animancers took to harvesting lifeforce from other sources to fuel their magic. Every living thing carries within it some level of lifeforce, with plants and simple organisms carrying the least and the souls of sentient beings holding the most. The longer a thing has lived the more lifeforce it contains. With the exception of a few outliers, some lifeforce is generally lost when an Animancer casts a spell which means that they almost always bleeding resources. Amateur Animancers like Pom are even more wasteful, be it by lacking the knowledge required to store vast amounts of lifeforce or flubbing the incantations and gestures and making the spell cost more lifeforce than it should. As of right now she is still unaware of what is the most efficient way to cast her spells, let alone if she should even cast them in the first place. She currently possesses no way to store additional lifeforce outside of carrying another soul inside of her. If she were to possess any excess lifeforce beyond the limitations of her own personal pool and the hitchhiking spirit she would begin to leak it, expelling the energy as a black, sludge-like ectoplasm. Animancy is currently divided into three sub-theories focusing on the soul (Shaman Theory), the living body (String Theory), and lifeforce (Lich Theory). However, Pom is currently unaware of any of this shit. Even after she got the letter she is still suspicious that she is just experiencing near constants hallucinations likely caused by some nefarious experimentation implemented by the Man. [b]Gray Initiate ⫻[/b] The starting stock for any Animancer starting their path to becoming a master manipulator of life. While Pom unlocked a slew of spells when magic was reignited, she is currently only aware of two of them despite having three others. Many more Animancy spells remain buried inside of her, with the condition to unlocking them currently remaining nebulous to the elf. [indent] [b]PhantaVision ⫻[/b] Pom can see spirits that are present in the material world. With this she can see the souls of the recently deceased before they depart to whatever the hell is happening in the afterlife. However, typically Pom only sees haunts, echoes of the souls that manifest in the presence of someone or something that is bonded to the departed soul through some kind of emotional significance. PhantaVision is a passive spell that doesn’t require any lifeforce. [b]Kaleidoscope Eyes ⫻[/b] Pom sees a faint aura of light coming off of the living that represents how far along its lifespan it is, with red being a newborn, green being right around middle age, and violet being extremely old. This light is only based upon how much life something has had and not necessarily how much it has left, meaning it cannot predict death from anything other than natural causes. In addition to making the world look trippy as hell, Pom can more easily detect a living thing that is attempting to hide but not fully obscured or completely in the dark. More importantly, it would also allow an Animancer to know what they can harvest the most lifeforce from. Kaleidoscope Eyes is a passive spell that doesn’t require any lifeforce. [b]Soulmate (Unaware) ⫻[/b] Pom attaches a soul of the recently deceased to her own. While the two are attached, Pom can form a general connection to the soul, getting a sort of vibe from it on certain things, as well as being granted information that the soul would have known when it was alive. Casting an attachment spell costs a minor amount of lifeforce. [b]Psycho-Pom(p) (Unaware) ⫻ [/b]Pom harvests a soul of the recently departed for lifeforce. This can be the soul of a plant, animal, or person, and provide her with anything from a minor to a massive amount of lifeforce depending on the complexity of the creature. Pom can harvest a soul that she has accompanying her via her Soulmate spell. Costs a miniscule amount of lifeforce to cast. [b]Rejuvenate (Unaware) ⫻[/b] Whenever Pom fully restores her supply of lifeforce she also rejuvenates her body, restoring herself to peak physical condition, healing minor injuries like cuts and bruises, cleansing her body of any sickness or disease, and resetting her physical age to that of early adulthood. Doesn’t cost lifeforce on its own as this is not so much a spell as it is a potential side benefit that accompanies her other spells within lich theory. [/indent] [b]LIMITS ⫻[/b] The biggest factor in Pom’s spellcasting is lifeforce, which serves as a fuel for almost all of her spells. While advanced Animancers could theoretically harvest and store vast amounts of lifeforce, Pom is a rudimentary gray witch who doesn’t fully understand her magic and is heavily conflicted by how it is fueled. Although she can tap outside resources to fuel her magic, Pom can also spend her own lifeforce as well. How much lifeforce she has stored up inside of her is manifested both in her appearance and physical wellness. When Pom is full of lifeforce she appears as a healthy elf who has just reached adulthood, but the more lifeforce she spends the more she appears to age and become decrepit. The level of lifeforce required to cast a spell is broken into five different ranks: miniscule, minor, moderate, major, and massive. Pom could cast miniscule spells all day and barely scratch the surface of her reserves, but the requirements grow exponentially from there with each rank up requiring three times the lifeforce of the rank below. In other words, for every twenty seven minor spells Pom could instead cast nine moderate, three majors, or one massive spell. Currently, a massive spell would use nearly all of Pom’s lifeforce, leaving her in desperate need of a refill as well as appearing in dire straits. If Pom attempts to cast a spell without having the lifeforce needed to cast it the spell does not fail. Instead, the spell goes off as normal and then Pom would enter into cardiac arrest. Unless she quickly harvests enough lifeforce to balance out her deficit and leave a little in her tank then she will die within minutes. No modern first aid or magical healing can prevent this from happening, with the exception of another Animancer providing lifeforce through a spell of their own. Several of Pom’s spells have unforeseen or unknown drawbacks. [indent] PhantaVision ⫻ While most haunts are benign, and typically, she is safe as long as she does not draw their attention to her, some are out for blood. While Pom cannot be physically harmed by haunts, they can sap anywhere from minor to major lifeforce from her. Soulmate ⫻ Most souls on the material world have something that is keeping them from moving on. While some souls will simply bargain or beg with Pom to carry out their final wishes, certain ones would just as happily possess her. Even souls that seem friendly at first might change their tune once they are in the presence of something or someone that sparks an emotional memory. Pom immediately breaks any possession by fulfilling the final wish. [/indent] [b]WEAKNESSES ⫻[/b] (DO NOT FILL THIS OUT, I WILL PROVIDE IT FOR YOU) [/INDENT] [sup][b] Other[/b][/sup] [sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub] [i]"Peace out."[/i] [indent]Pom has worked as a waitress in Norm’s Diner for over forty years now, getting the job because the owner was a good friend of Bo’s. Norm’s Diner has been a staple of the Twin Pines community for over fifty years and was owned by Norman Jefferies until his retirement about five years ago, where ownership was passed on to his daughter Shelly. Pom's position at the diner has achieved legendary status within the community, where she has been recognized as the absolute worst server in the world, seemingly incapable of not screwing up an order, dropping a glass, or forgetting about a table. While her ineptitude has become something endearing for the locals, most of whom she has known for all their life and now know the trick to get good service out of her, Pom has proven to be a problem for business when it comes to out-of-towners. With business already being in danger thanks to the opening of a Starbucks within the past couple of years, it’s clear that the only reason Shelly hasn’t fired Pom is due to the woman’s legacy at the diner. Instead, Shelly has just taken to giving Pom less shifts in the summer as a “vacation” as well as making the woman promise that if she’s going to sell drugs that she does it off the clock and behind the Starbucks instead of next to their dumpster. Norm’s Diner is located on the far end of Main right before the turn that leads to the state route, with a parking lot large enough for semis and typically empty thanks to the drive thru Starbucks that opened up just across the street. It has a U-shaped counter in the middle of the floor with an open window to the kitchen behind and booths ringed around the windowed walls of the diner. The food is the standard greasy spoon special of all day breakfast and burgers. The coffee comes in two variants of either black or burnt, the odds are that the icecream machine is on the fritz again so they can’t make milkshakes, and is home to the best damn cherry pie in the world . [hider=Rough Spellbook Ideas] [i]A preview of what Pom's magic might eventually become, subject to be adjusted and better defined if these spells ever actually see the light of day.[/i] Shaman Theory ⫻ Spells relating to the soul. Spellcasting within this theory is extremely under the radar, typically requiring little more than a subtle hand gesture and accompanied with a momentary, blink-and-miss shifting of her pupils to a milky white. [indent]PhantaVision ⫻ Pom can see spirits that are present in the material world. With this she can see the souls of the recently deceased before they depart to whatever the hell is happening in the afterlife. However, typically Pom only sees haunts, echoes of the souls that manifest in the presence of someone or something that is bonded to the departed soul through some kind of emotional significance. PhantaVision is a passive spell that doesn’t require any lifeforce. Soulmate ⫻ Pom attaches a soul of the recently deceased to her own. While the two are attached, Pom can form a general connection to the soul, getting a sort of vibe from it on certain things, as well as being granted information that the soul would have known when it was alive. Casting an attachment spell costs a minor amount of lifeforce. Dead Ringer [Buried] ⫻ Pom attempts to open communication with the soul of a deceased, opening herself up as a conduit for the dead to pass along messages and answer questions. Costs a moderate amount of lifeforce. Free Spirit [Buried] ⫻ Pom takes on the form of a spirit by detaching her soul from her body which enters into a stable, comatose state. Pom is incorporeal while in this form, allowing her to phase through things and float on air, but she is not invisible. Rather, Pom’s spirit form flickers on and off in a slow, steady pulse. She cannot speak while in spirit form, she typically cannot physically interact with anything, and the only way to exit spirit form is to return to her body. She can move as fast as she can run but has limitless stamina as a spirit. Casting Free Spirit costs a major amount of lifeforce. Pom can interact with an object if she spends a minor amount of lifeforce or hitch a ride with a living creature if she spends a moderate amount of lifeforce to become a passenger. Pom can communicate mentally with the living creature while attached in this way, even if they normally cannot communicate, but she has no actual mental influence over their actions. Free Spirit Limit: Alongside the previously mentioned inability to speak or physically interact with spending additional lifeforce, Pom’s body is unprotected while she is in spirit form. The further away she gets from her body, the longer she opens herself up to unknown danger. [/indent] String Theory ⫻ Spells relating to the living body. Spellcasting within this theory is overt, typically requiring Pom to gesture continuously throughout the channeling of the spell and mutter arcane words in Old Elven. [indent]Kaleidoscope Eyes ⫻ Pom sees a faint aura of light coming off of the living that represents how far along its lifespan it is, with red being a newborn, green being right around middle age, and violet being extremely old. This light is only based upon how much life something has had and not necessarily how much it has left, meaning it cannot predict death from anything other than natural causes. In addition to making the world look trippy as hell, Pom can more easily detect a living thing that is attempting to hide but not fully obscured or completely in the dark. More importantly, it would also allow an Animancer to know what they can harvest the most lifeforce from. Kaleidoscope Eyes is a passive spell that doesn’t require any lifeforce. Parasight [Buried] ⫻ Pom steals the senses of a living creature she can see, rendering them temporarily blind as she looks through their eyes. While under the effects of a Parasight spell, any spells that require Pom to see someone can still be cast if the target is seen by the vision she has stolen–including recasting her Parasight spell. Costs a minor amount of lifeforce each time it is cast and miniscule lifeforce to maintain. Parasight Limit: Pom cannot see through her own eyes while she is looking through the eyes of someone else with Parasight. Twitchcraft [Buried] ⫻ Pom manipulates a muscle of a living creature she can see. She causes the muscle to suddenly seize, which can be used to do things like force someone to drop something, trip them up when they’re running, or turn their head in a certain direction to better set up a Parasight jump. Costs a minor amount of lifeforce. Twitchcraft Limit: After casting the spell, Pom will experience a twitch in her body. The timing for this varies as does the part of her body that twitches, adding an element of uncertainty to any casting of the spell. Snipsnap [Buried] ⫻ Pom targets a limb of a living creature she can see. She can spend a moderate amount of lifeforce to snip the limb, rendering it limp and useless for a short amount of time. Pom can maintain the spell with a minor amount of lifeforce, continually spending more and more lifeforce to keep the limb snipped as time moves on. Alternatively, she can spend a major amount of lifeforce to snap the limb and break it. Snipsnap Limit: Pom’s limb is snipped for as longer as her target remains snipped. While debilitating, it’s nowhere near as brutal as how Pom must snap her own limb to do the same to someone else. Threaded Fates [Buried] ⫻ Pom targets a living creature she can see and makes them a marionette as she seizes precise control over their body, directing her target to mirror the movement of her own body. Costs a massive amount of lifeforce. Threaded Fates Limit: Due to the massive amount of lifeforce required to cast the spell, Pom’s movements and therefore the movements of her marionette are slower and lack fluidity. [/indent] Lich Theory ⫻ Spells relating to lifeforce. Spellcasting within this theory is not only overt but an assault on the senses, the air around Pom swirling violently while her eyes go black, her limbs flailing wildly as if she were having a seizure, and an ungodly wail like the keening of a banshee claws its way out of her throat. A chorus of whispering spirits can be heard by the targets of these spells. [indent] Rejuvenate ⫻ Whenever Pom fully restores her supply of lifeforce she also rejuvenates her body, restoring herself to peak physical condition, healing minor injuries like cuts and bruises, cleansing her body of any sickness or disease, and resetting her physical age to that of early adulthood. Doesn’t cost lifeforce on its own as this is not so much a spell as it is a potential side benefit that accompanies her other spells within lich theory. Restore [Buried] ⫻ A more advanced form of Rejuvenate. In addition to the previously mentioned benefits, Pom now also heals herself of major injuries like broken bones or missing limbs. As well, Pom begins to immediately Rejuvenate herself whenever she resupplies her lifeforce, no longer having to fully reset her supply to heal minor wounds, cleanse disease, or appear more youthful. Revival [Buried] ⫻ A more advanced of Restore. In addition to all the previously mentioned benefits, Pom can cheat death and revive herself if she has a soul attached to her that she can harvest. As well, Pom begins to immediately Restore herself whenever she resupplies lifeforce, no longer having to fully reset her supply to heal major wounds. Recycle [Buried] ⫻ Pom can take lifeforce and recycle it from herself into another living creature. While this does not revert them to their younger selves, it does allow them to heal injuries and cleanse sickness. Pom can spend anywhere from a moderate, major, or massive amount of lifeforce to immediately provide someone with the healing benefits of her Rejuvenate, Restore, or Revival respectively. Psycho-Pom(p) ⫻ Pom harvests a soul of the recently departed for lifeforce. This can be the soul of a plant, animal, or person, and provide her with anything from a minor to a massive amount of lifeforce depending on the complexity of the creature. Pom can harvest a soul that she has accompanying her via her Soulmate spell. Costs a miniscule amount of lifeforce to cast. Flower Power [Buried] ⫻ Pom harvests the lifeforce from living plants within close proximity, regaining a miniscule to moderate amount of lifeforce depending on the health and complexity of the plants. This ultimately leads to the immediate withering and death of the plant. Costs a miniscule amount of lifeforce to cast. Close Cull [Buried] ⫻ Pom harvests the lifeforce from a single living animal within close proximity, regaining a minor to major amount of lifeforce depending on the health and complexity of creature. In return the animal greatly seems to age, potentially to the point of death. Costs a miniscule amount of lifeforce to cast. Last Rites [Buried] ⫻ Pom harvests the lifeforce from a single living person within close proximity, regaining a moderate to massive amount of lifeforce depending on the health of the person. In return the person greatly seems to age, potentially to the point of death. Costs a miniscule amount of lifeforce to cast. Second Death [Buried] ⫻ Pom harvests a haunt for lifeforce. By harvesting a haunt, she also breaks the bond connecting the haunt to the material world. She won’t necessarily make people forget about the haunt or the original soul that haunt was pulled from, but it will never manifest again and quickly becomes a distant, ho-hum memory. She regains a minor to moderate amount of lifeforce, but it costs a miniscule amount of lifeforce to cast. Memento [Buried] ⫻ Instead of directly consuming the lifeforce she harvests, Pom imbues it in a small token that she can use as a fuel source for her spells. Costs a minor amount of lifeforce to cast. [/indent] [/hider] [/INDENT] [/hider]