Cassidy Creed ((Modern day. Superpowers.))
Kit Cooper ((Modern day. Slice of life.))
Samantha "Sam" Fairbanks ((Medieval. Female pretending to be male.))
OP
Fox Fable Dandelion Destroyer
Member
Seen
7 yrs ago
Name: Cassidy Creed
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Physical Description:
Skillset:
History:
Psychological Profile:
Powers:
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Physical Description:
Cassidy isn't waifish, willowy, frail, or any other synonym for the word delicate. She stands at a respectable 5'9" and has the sort of figure indicative of a woman who spends an inordinate amount of time training, meaning she is quite solidly built. When she walks Cassidy carries herself proudly, standing tall and never slouching, though the occasional hitch in her step betrays the injury that prematurely ended her street fighting career. Her complexion is fair, with only the random splattering of freckles marring her pale skin. This, along with the sectoral heterchromia that gives her right eye a blotch of brown coloring, are traits that Cassidy is somewhat self conscious about, though she'll never admit it out loud.
A childhood in deep East Texas has permanently left it's mark on this young woman's speech patterns, her syllables soft and drawn out in the tell tale style of a southern drawl. Her only tattoo is the peacock that spans the entirety of her right arm and she has a gnarled scar on her upper left thigh from a gunshot wound. She actually has a myriad of other, more minuscule scars from the errant knife or broken beer bottle, but they're mostly to her torso or arms and aren't readily recognizable on first glance.
A childhood in deep East Texas has permanently left it's mark on this young woman's speech patterns, her syllables soft and drawn out in the tell tale style of a southern drawl. Her only tattoo is the peacock that spans the entirety of her right arm and she has a gnarled scar on her upper left thigh from a gunshot wound. She actually has a myriad of other, more minuscule scars from the errant knife or broken beer bottle, but they're mostly to her torso or arms and aren't readily recognizable on first glance.
Skillset:
Made of sterner stuff - It takes a lot to damage Cassidy's calm. Her years fighting in the streets where anything goes and her time working as an ER nurse has made it so this little lady stays cool under pressure.
Come at me, bro - Cassidy can handle herself in a fight and isn't afraid to play dirty to make sure she comes out on top. That being said, her leg isn't as strong as it used to be and is her weak spot.
If you ain't dead, I'll keep you that way - Cassidy is not a doctor by any stretch of the imagination, but she can patch you up or keep you from bleeding out until you find someone to dig that bullet out of you.
Iron Gut - This one isn't the most helpful, but she considers it a skill none the less. A childhood of eating burnt hotdog and bologna meatloafs has groomed Cassidy to be able to scarf down pretty much anything without getting sick.
History:
Cassidy isn't the exact definition of trailer park trash, but she's not far off. Born in smoggy Beaumont, Texas and reared in a beat-up, rusted out airstream, the little girl never had much in the way of materialistic things or other comforts, but her mom always made sure she got three meals a day (if you can call fried spam a meal) and new shoes every winter, so she really couldn't complain. When Cassidy started sixth grade, Ms. Creed finally gave in and let her daughter bike the mile and a half to the local intermediate school, a fateful decision because it was what allowed the young girl to witness her very first street fight.
As she watched one middle school girl rip the earrings straight through another one’s ears while surrounded by a ring of their cheering classmates, Cassidy knew she had found her calling.
From then on fighting was all she ever thought about and soon the young girl found that if she was good at it people would actually pay her to beat the ever-loving shit out of other kids. She began staying out later and later after school and would come home covered in a litany of cuts and bruises. This was a point of contention between Cassidy and her mother who understandably found the change in behavior to be more than a little unsettling, but the extra cash meant they didn't have to struggle so hard to make ends meet, so she turned a blind eye to the whole thing. “Just don't get caught,” Ms. Cross would advise while she cleaned a wayward cut or applied a frozen bag of peas to a swollen eye. “And for the love of God, try not to get shot!”
Cassidy managed to heed this advice all the way through high school, but her luck ran out one evening while going a round with another fighter in the basement room of some seedy bar. Her opponent had played a clean game for the most part, only whipping out a switchblade at the very end, but Cassidy was still able to disarm and wrestle the other woman to the ground without getting herself stabbed. She was declared victorious and the man in charge was in the process of handing over the cash prize when someone in the crowd who had placed a losing bet opened fire.
One of the bullets caught her in the thigh and shattered her femur completely. It took a year of physical therapy to regain most of her former range of motion, but it never healed up quite right and no one wanted to fight or put money on someone as busted up as her, so the work dried up. Her mother's job at the paper mill offered Ms. Cross a promotion at their corporate office across the country in Brighton and she took it with out so much as the bat of an eyelash, hoping the move would help straighten out her somewhat rowdy daughter. It actually worked for the most part and Cassidy enrolled in community college to study nursing that same fall. In two years she graduated and landed a job at the local hospital, and everything was finally starting to go smoothly when her mother died suddenly at the age of 48 from a brain aneurysm.
And then Cassidy was alone.
She pondered moving back to Beaumont, but there wasn't really anything for her there either. She spent a year pulling double shifts at the hospital and avoiding her sad little two bedroom apartment like it was a plague. It was incredibly lonely and Cassidy missed having a family. Three years later and just when she was starting to feel utterly lost, fate or luck brought one David King into her emergency room. He wasn't banged up much, just a stab wound to the bicep he'd got in some bar fight, and they chatted about their different battle scars and how they got them while she stitched him up. The next day she was surprised to see Dave waiting for her at the hospital when her shift started with a proposition; to come work for the H10 Crew as a back-up enforcer and sometimes medic. Naturally she agreed and never looked back. The gang was good to her and it wasn't long after she got the hang of things that they sent her out on some of their shadier dealings, usually paired with another enforcer as backup.
Cassidy has been a part of the gang for two years now and couldn't imagine her life any other way.
As she watched one middle school girl rip the earrings straight through another one’s ears while surrounded by a ring of their cheering classmates, Cassidy knew she had found her calling.
From then on fighting was all she ever thought about and soon the young girl found that if she was good at it people would actually pay her to beat the ever-loving shit out of other kids. She began staying out later and later after school and would come home covered in a litany of cuts and bruises. This was a point of contention between Cassidy and her mother who understandably found the change in behavior to be more than a little unsettling, but the extra cash meant they didn't have to struggle so hard to make ends meet, so she turned a blind eye to the whole thing. “Just don't get caught,” Ms. Cross would advise while she cleaned a wayward cut or applied a frozen bag of peas to a swollen eye. “And for the love of God, try not to get shot!”
Cassidy managed to heed this advice all the way through high school, but her luck ran out one evening while going a round with another fighter in the basement room of some seedy bar. Her opponent had played a clean game for the most part, only whipping out a switchblade at the very end, but Cassidy was still able to disarm and wrestle the other woman to the ground without getting herself stabbed. She was declared victorious and the man in charge was in the process of handing over the cash prize when someone in the crowd who had placed a losing bet opened fire.
One of the bullets caught her in the thigh and shattered her femur completely. It took a year of physical therapy to regain most of her former range of motion, but it never healed up quite right and no one wanted to fight or put money on someone as busted up as her, so the work dried up. Her mother's job at the paper mill offered Ms. Cross a promotion at their corporate office across the country in Brighton and she took it with out so much as the bat of an eyelash, hoping the move would help straighten out her somewhat rowdy daughter. It actually worked for the most part and Cassidy enrolled in community college to study nursing that same fall. In two years she graduated and landed a job at the local hospital, and everything was finally starting to go smoothly when her mother died suddenly at the age of 48 from a brain aneurysm.
And then Cassidy was alone.
She pondered moving back to Beaumont, but there wasn't really anything for her there either. She spent a year pulling double shifts at the hospital and avoiding her sad little two bedroom apartment like it was a plague. It was incredibly lonely and Cassidy missed having a family. Three years later and just when she was starting to feel utterly lost, fate or luck brought one David King into her emergency room. He wasn't banged up much, just a stab wound to the bicep he'd got in some bar fight, and they chatted about their different battle scars and how they got them while she stitched him up. The next day she was surprised to see Dave waiting for her at the hospital when her shift started with a proposition; to come work for the H10 Crew as a back-up enforcer and sometimes medic. Naturally she agreed and never looked back. The gang was good to her and it wasn't long after she got the hang of things that they sent her out on some of their shadier dealings, usually paired with another enforcer as backup.
Cassidy has been a part of the gang for two years now and couldn't imagine her life any other way.
Psychological Profile:
I'm your Huckleberry - While she isn't necessarily looking for a fight, Cassidy isn't known for shying away from one either. This coupled with her naturally hot headed nature has earned her the reputation of being somewhat volatile and gets her into trouble sometimes.
I'm a motherfuckin', goddamn lady, you sorry son of a one-eyed prairie dog - Cassidy has a penchant for stringing some really, ahem, colorful sentences together. Along with being crass, sarcastic, and blunt, she isn't really the kind of girl you take home to mama.
Think of the children! - She has a soft spot for all the younger, smaller, and defenseless crew members. She will bend over backwards to keep them out of harms way and loves helping them out with everything from homework all the way to boy or girl troubles, though her dating advice usually leaves a little something to be desired.
Can't read my pokerface - Well, in all actuality you most likely can. Cassidy can't keep a straight face when she's bluffing and as a result is a shit liar. She's an open book of sorts and it isn't hard to guess what she is feeling or thinking at any given moment, as it is probably written all over her face.
...Are you, um, hitting on me? - Completely oblivious when it comes to matters of the heart. Short of someone point blank saying, "Hey, I think you're cute. Wanna make-out?" she will absolutely not get the message they're flirting with her. Her own seduction skills are also somewhat lacking, as she thinks sparring matches and biting are far more romantic than roses or wine could ever hope to be.
You're all I've got - In many ways Cassidy sees the H10 Crew as the surrogate family that fills the hole her mother left behind when she passed away. Whether or not she likes you is irrelevant, if you're part of the gang then she's got your back.
Powers:
Miasma Breath - Under the influence of neon Cassidy is able to produce a colorless, neurotoxic smog from her mouth that has the cloyingly sweet odor of honey and sunflowers. In a big open space and at a distance it causes disorientation, headache, and severe nausea, but at a closer range and blown directly into the face it inflicts limb paralysis for a short period of time. In a closed space like a closet or sealed car and administered mouth to mouth it can prevent the victim's internal organs from functioning properly and may result in death. Symptoms will wane with time or can be treated by, surprisingly, coral snake anti-venom.
While Cassidy is immune to her miasma's effects, the same can not be said for the other member of the H10 Crew, which is why she is reluctant to use it when one of them is nearby. Poisoning a fellow crew member would just be embarrassing, they'd never let her live it down!
While Cassidy is immune to her miasma's effects, the same can not be said for the other member of the H10 Crew, which is why she is reluctant to use it when one of them is nearby. Poisoning a fellow crew member would just be embarrassing, they'd never let her live it down!
OP
Fox Fable Dandelion Destroyer
Member
Seen
7 yrs ago
24
Gender:
Female
Personality:
On the surface, Sam's personality can be summed up into four words, "Keep your head down." She goes to extraordinary lengths to be as boring and nondescript as possible, doing everything in her power to not draw attention to herself. She's quite good at it and after years of practice she can blend in almost seamlessly with her male companions.
There are other parts to her that she chooses to keep locked away. She has a spirit for adventure and is fiercely loyal to the people she considers to be her friends. She also has a soft spot for the bastards, orphans, and downtrodden beings of this world and has been known to occasionally pass off some of her food if she thinks someone else is in more need of it.
Sam isn't all sunshine and roses though. She can be snarky and sarcastic, though she bites her tongue most of the time in the name of remaining uninteresting. She isn't a shrinking violet either as her time on the streets has exposed her to all manor of unseemly situations and made it so that she rarely gets squeamish these days.
Appearance:
Sam stands at 5'8" and weighs in at 132 pounds, which makes her pretty solidly built by girl standards but a scrawny little shit as far as men go. She has the ginger hair and spotted complexion that is typical of someone from the Blood Isles, though her blue eyes are a novelty amidst the predominantly green eyed population. Her bust is modest and easily camouflaged by tight bindings and ill fitting clothes hide the subtle curve of her hips.
Equipment/weaponry:
Military issued broadsword, dagger, shield, and canteen. Keeps an illustrated book on all of the great stone bridges ever built tucked away in her knapsack. It belonged to her father and has his careful notes written in the margins.
History:
Samantha spent her childhood on the frigid Blood Isles, named for the natives' bright crimson colored locks. The harsh conditions weren't for the faint of heart and the community was minuscule as a result, but since her father was a well respected stone mason, she didn't want for much. She went everywhere her dad went and was beloved by many of his customers. Yes, everything was quite lovely for little Sam in the beginning.
Then the plague hit.
The sickness swept through the islands, turning the resident's lungs into weak, useless things that slowly withered away and left people unable to breathe. At first it seemed like the Fairbanks clan had been spared by the disease, but one fated morning Sam's father began retching up blood and was unable to catch his breath. He knew his time was almost up, so instead of waiting around for his daughter to catch her death he booked her passage abroad a merchant ship and sent her to the main land in the hopes of keeping her alive. They had to drag her on the boat kicking and screaming. She hasn't heard from her father since and no one will sail to the Blood Isles anymore in fear of contracting the sickness.
At the age of fifteen the kingdom of Brackendale seemed huge and Sam's money didn't go far. It wasn't long before she was penniless and begging on the streets. The young woman quickly found that being a female was a treacherous thing in these conditions, so she took to tucking her hair into her cap and wearing baggy clothes to hide herself from sinister glances and malevolent hands. The ruse worked; most people mistook her for a scrawny little boy and never so much as cast a second glance in her direction. She found work as a stable hand at a local inn and stayed there until she turned 24 and the establishment burned down after a bar brawl got out of hand.
After a few weeks of failing to find steady work, she decided to join up with Brackendale army. It was sure to be hard work as she'd never so much as held a sword before and the threat of dying in a battle against a Northsman was very real, but she still figured it was better than starving on the streets.
...Right?
OP
Fox Fable Dandelion Destroyer
Member
Seen
7 yrs ago
"Be merciful until you can’t be. Until you feel your heart begin to harden into a bullet. Then use that bullet."
-Clementine Von Radics
-Clementine Von Radics
| Name |
Kit Evangeline Cooper
| Nickname |
Most people find 'Kit' to be short enough on its own.
| Birth Date |
February 10, 1999
| Age |
17
| Gender |
Female
| Sexuality |
Bisexual. Appreciates a gorgeous guy or lovely lady equally. <3
| Relationship Status |
Single AF
| Occupation |
Tutors her fellow students only if they are willing to shell out the big bucks or she can put it on her college transcript...or you bring her white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. You know, priorities.
| Classification |
Senior
| Role |
Nerd
| In Depth Appearance |
Size wise Kit is pretty average for a girl her age, standing at 5'6" (167 cm) and weighing right at 135 pounds (61.2 kg). At first glance her modest chest and well rounded hips give her a classic pear shape, which is only elaborated by the extra little bit of chubbiness she has around her middle due to her scholarly nature, sedentary lifestyle, and inordinate love of cookies. With some effort and quality time spent at a gym she could probably have washboard abs, but there are books to be read and essays to be written, dammit!
This little bookworm is pale enough that long trips into the great outdoors have her reaching for her emergency stash of sunscreen with a swiftness that would give Usain Bolt whiplash. Her light brown hair falls in gentle waves that frame her face and call attention to her full, chipmunk cheeks as well as her large doe eyes. Dress wise Kit is pretty casual, mostly wearing blue jeans and sneakers, and she never goes anywhere without her book bag. She doesn't have any tattoos, but she does have a nasty scar on the back of her left leg from when she broke it as a little girl.
This little bookworm is pale enough that long trips into the great outdoors have her reaching for her emergency stash of sunscreen with a swiftness that would give Usain Bolt whiplash. Her light brown hair falls in gentle waves that frame her face and call attention to her full, chipmunk cheeks as well as her large doe eyes. Dress wise Kit is pretty casual, mostly wearing blue jeans and sneakers, and she never goes anywhere without her book bag. She doesn't have any tattoos, but she does have a nasty scar on the back of her left leg from when she broke it as a little girl.
| Habits | Quirks | Oddities |
- Uncomfotably superstitious. Wears the same pair of shark socks for every exam because she believes them to be lucky. Also throws spilt salt over her shoulder, plants sage by her front door, and stays the hell away from black cats.
- Flexes jaw when angry.
- Talks to herself when studying.
- Carries just about everything in her book bag. First aid kit? Got it. Packet of instant hot cocoa? Yep. Play-doh? You bet your sweet buttons. Snake bite kit? Absolutely.
- Stutters when both excited and nervous.
- Loves to make lists, especially when anxious. They calm her down.
| Hobbies |
- Studying
- Gardening
- Eating cookies.
- Tutoring people. It's actually pretty fun to help someone with a subject they're really struggling in.
- Setting things on fire.
| Likes |
- The smell of a good library book.
- Cookies. Except ones with raisins in them, cause fuck those guys.
- Blackjack and card counting. They go hand in hand, really.
- Painting her nails. It's her guilty pleasure.
- Pretty, bubbly girls. She tries not to ogle the cheerleaders...much.
- Nerdy boys. Thats a mighty big, erm, protracter you've got there, friend.
- Energy drinks. If she could hook up an IV and shoot Redbull directly into her veins she'd be oh so happy.
- Fancy computers.
- Brussel sprouts. Shut up, they're delicious!
- Horror movies.
- Surprising people with the occasional errant curse word.
- Watching things be set on fire
| Dislikes |
- Sunny weather
- Being outright called a nerd. That's our word!
- Feeling unprepared. It's the worst.
- Running out of hot water halfway through a shower.
- Hot chocolate made with water instead of milk.
- Having to be a part of any sports what so ever. They're fine to watch, but participating in them blows.
- Feeling left out.
| Fears |
- Not getting accepted to Stanford.
- Being publicly humiliated.
- Clowns. Just--just no.
| Personality |
♦ Clever ♦ Indulgent ♦ Empathetic ♦ Neurotic ♦
BHHS is full of bright eyed, charming, drop dead gorgeous boys and girls who could cause heart palpitations with a well placed wink and witty remark. Kit is definitely not one of these people; she's more the one that ruins the curve on that really hard AP Biology test. This former San Francisco native spends the bulk of her time reading pretty much anything she can get her hands on, from 'Finnegans Wake' to obscure Sherlock fanfiction. She doesn't actually have to do much studying since everything she reads sticks, so she's always looking for new material to get her paws on.
While social interactions aren't exactly her strongest suit, Kit can usually flounder through an interaction without embarrassing herself too bad. She's not shy or a shrinking violet by any means, it's just that she doesn't get much practice outside of tutoring other students or talking to her parents, so sometimes her awkwardness or dry wit and sarcasm can get her into trouble. That being said, she's extremely empathetic and will occasionally help someone out with their homework even if they can't pay her outrageous prices (under the strict promise of future cookies, of course). She also likes messing with people's perceptions of nerds and will sometimes randomly curse or blare extreme rock/rap/bubblegum pop/Norwegian music from her phone during a study session.
Kit is laser focused on her academics a lot of the time, but her weakness appears to be pretty guys and gals. There has been more than one occasion where she misbubbled a scantron because of some chick's low cut top or briefly forgot how to do calculus because the football boys were practicing outside the classroom window. Damn hormones.
| History |
| Extracurricular |
Kit has a hand in just about everything regardless of whether or not she finds it interesting because it will look good on a college transcript. She actually likes the art ones though.
| Exta |
Guys, Lemonade came out this year, how is that entire album not everyone's favorite thing? :P
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