Dread's Character Lair

[Dread]

The Wayward Niece...

Name: Czigani Veranieth Hanoxx

Age: Early twenties, a fledgling really...

Bloodline: Tyro (Fire & Earth)

Group: Former member of the Sureiya/Dragon Slayers, any recognition within the guild has been stripped since her self-imposed exile.

Physique/Appearance: At just over six feet of a petite, yet lean build, Czi’s stature is relatively short in comparison to the average female of her species. Still, her presence is generally never missed, even when she would rather remain invisible, especially due to the massive scar across most of the right side of her face. A mark to remind her of just how cruel and savage the world was. Or perhaps, still is. The wound also caused a severe vision impairment in her right eye, the crimson pigment inherent to her race faded to a colorless and milky wash allowing only muted colors and hazy, blurred lights and images to enter. Her skin takes on a sort of muted purple tone, while her hair is black as midnight, and two thick, curled horns adorn the top of her head, each decorated with ancient etchings of her lineage.

Wearing charcoal grays and blacks mostly, Czigani dresses modest enough not to attract the wrong kind of attention, showing very little skin, save perhaps her head and hands. Even so, the scar along the right side of her face is a point of contention and she tends to keep good on her cloak up and over that area to thwart any awkward questions or unwarranted stares.

Her leather armor, which is indicative of the influential gothic-style architecture from its origins, is form fitted, flexible, quiet, and elegant in its design.

Weapons: Rapier, secured in a leather belt sheath, and two daggers, crossed and secured in the rear of her belt. One of the daggers is used for parrying if needed. She also, as of late, carries a quarterstaff used for travelling as well as a means to defend herself.

Abilities: A duelist by nature, Czigani has gained substantial skill and knowledge of swordplay, specifically with the rapier-style of weapon and an off-hand parrying dagger. She specializes in calculated defense techniques, in order to wear down her opponent and leave them open for a winning strike. She could be considered above average, with much room to grow with the right instructor...

Unarmed combat, while skilled, is very much second rate comparatively, and is focused more so on defensive and disarming opponents.

Hunting and tracking were staple disciplines within her family, and she is considered above average in these skill sets, as well as building and maintaining traps for particular targets.

Highly resistant direct flames and heat for a short period of time

Weakness: Impaired Vision - Her right eye was badly damaged in a duel, resulting in very poor peripheral vision from that side, and some level of difficulty gauging distance overall, but she is learning to overcome the handicap.

[ Spells ]
Fire Based:
Fire Touch - cause small objects to set fire with a mere touch, generally uses this spell on her weapons.

Earth Based:
Volcanic Stone skin - for brief periods of time, her skin can be as tough as the hardest stone, and hot to the touch
GeoKinesis - With enough mental focus, surrounding stone matter can be manipulated.
Earth Meld - by laying down on the ground, the body can sink into the surrounding earth, thereby hiding her physical form. Heart rate slows and the body goes into a kind of hibernation for a short period of time. Can even travel short distances as long as there are no large impassable obstructions. (i.e. a wall)

Experience: Aside from an excellent academic education, she was taught several variations of hand-to-hand combat and swordplay by her uncle, the King of Fotia, Magnix Hanoxx. In addition, seeing great progress in his niece, Hanoxx trained her in the ways of the Dragon Hunter, which landed her a place within the Sureiya after her first successful kill. She has also held the title of “Duelist” as being one of the kingdom’s leaders in one-on-one dueling competitions.

Motivation: Truth and Survival. Czigani has seen enough corruption within her own family, specifically dark dealings in slavery and oppression, and seeks to end the slave trade if that is even possible...
Birthplace: Fotia Castle

History:
As niece to King Magnix Hanoxx -his sister’s daughter- Czigani’s life was anything but private, and very rarely did she have a secret that many within her family didn’t already know. From her first steps as an infant, to the last male companion she’d had the pleasure of connecting with, her business seemed to always be kingdom business, something of which the young Fotian was anything but thrilled about. However, she put aside the petty whispers of gossip that sailed throughout the halls of the castle and focused on doing what she could to further her Uncle’s kingdom. As she aged, academics were not taken lightly, as each of the royal children within the kingdom were not only taught the vast history of their great race, but of other races, species, and geographic locations to the best of the Fotian scholars knowledge. So much of world was still unknown, which made it an even more dangerous yet intriguing place. Without ever really admitting it though, Czigani enjoyed her studies even though she would much rather be out exploring the places learned about from the ancient textbooks and scrolls.

As per tradition and culture within her family and race, combat was just a way of life, whether for sport, education, or defending against those who would tear apart the fabric of Fotian society, it was simply in the blood. Not to say they were a violent people, but rather recognized that physical fortitude and mental resolve in its raw form ruled over most other virtues. As soon as she could grasp a sword in her tiny hands, Czigani’s arduous training began, which took her down a new path of thinking, applying her academics with both ranged, melee, and unarmed combat forms and tactics. Eventually, she leaned toward the lighter, faster rapiers, using her supernatural dexterity and reflexes to defend and counter each attack, leaving the opponent open for a final strike. Going along with tradition, Czigani competed in dueling tournaments, which pitted several royal families against the other for profit, respect, honor, and in some cases, to settle disputes.

Later in her life, Czigani had grown to love and despise many of the time-honored traditions within Fotia, but nothing enraged her more than the slave trade that was so prominent within her culture. And if it wasn’t bad enough that many slaves were put to work or put to death, but the shady dealings and ongoing abuse and trafficking of young, innocent Fotian girls who were being sold off to other kingdoms in exchange for trade deals and profit was most definitely the final straw. Czigani had little problems voicing her concerns when it came to a cause she believed in, but unfortunately, no matter how much she pleaded to King Magnix, her Lord’s stubbornness and resolve overshadowed any further speak of the matter. But, the girl would not let it go that easily.

Visiting the trade market, she had words directly with the one who was responsible for the buying and selling of goods, especially the trafficking of slaves, which was not necessarily publicly declared, but it was very much in full swing even under the noses of so many. While in his tent one evening, what started out as a civilized conversation turned into a heated argument, and before the girl knew it, her hand had quickly and violently unsheathed her dagger and slit the throat of the “slave master”, his body crumbling to the ground in a bloody pool. Unfortunately, several eyewitnesses caught the murderous action, and guards were called, where they immediately arrested and incarcerated the girl until the matter could be investigated.

Needless to say, the King was furious with his wayward niece, and while he couldn’t understand how Czigani could allow such a thing to transpire, especially against one of his most profitable traders, Magnix was also against putting her to death, even though that was the penalty for such a deed. As it turned out, a family member within King Magnix’s court was a brother to the slave trader, and demanded justice be taken against Czigani, so the King decided to hold a trial-by-combat, whereas bloodshed and death would be the only solution to clear up the issue.

The Day of Reckoning

The fight itself took place at just after midnight in the courtyard, which settled in the center of the castle, surrounded by countless torches lining the perimeter and spectators from all over. Blood would be paid in blood, and for many Fotians, this was an event worth attending. Both duelists stood at their respective sides, prepared to meet their fate head on. The slave trader’s brother -Alric- brandished his finest blade and burgundy-stain leather armor. Czigani carried her prized rapier and wore the very armor her father had specially made on her sixteenth birthday. Form-fitting and light, the black leather and hide pieces fit together perfectly as they did the day it was received, covering her from neck to toe in sleek elegance and protection.

To say the fight happened quickly would be an understatement as both challengers charged to the center, exchanging attacks, parries, dodges, and everything in between. Alric, the taller and stronger of the two, relished in pummeling down onto the young girl whom he despised, hissing profanities toward her with every thrust and swing of his saber. After some time elapsed, Czigani had begun to recognize many of the fighting styles employed by her opponent. It was the very technique she’d trained in years ago, which helped her keep pace and sustained counter-attacks. It was only when the unexpected (or perhaps it should have been expected) happened that caught her off guard.

A silent poisoned dagger pulled from under Alric’s metal bracer and sliced across the girl's exposed face with one swift stroke, causing her to fall to the ground in agony as the alchemical agents burned the affected area across most of the right side of her face. Using the distraction to his advantage, Alric repeatedly kicked the other, first the ribs, then the head, and again yelling curses and insults. Czigani wanted to die at that moment, for the torment and lies to end, and for the guilt and trauma of what started all the chaos in the first place. Her opponent, however,was in no mood for a quick fight, but rather to drag out her suffering as long as possible, allowing the physical beatings and public humiliation to destroy the girl's spirit before bringing the hammer down for the final deathstroke.

“You're pathetic, fledgling...” He hissed, kneeling down next to Czigani and pulling her head up by her hair as he whispered one final time. “Not even your Uncle, the King, can save you now…”

How it happened, the girl never knew, nor could she tell you to this day, but in that moment she had mustered enough strength and resolve to wrap her fingers around her sword and thrust several inches of the blade up and under Alric’s chin, ending the terrible creature’s rhetoric as blood gushed from the open vein and his body fell across hers. The moments that followed were utter silence, as even the crowds were unsure of the what happened, and all went dark for the girl as both sight and sound faded.

The following day, Czigani awoke within the cell she had been in previously, her body achy and stiff, and her face partially bandaged and packed with healing herbs where the large gash was slowly scarring over. Her mother, Magnix’s sister, was sitting across from her and began explaining that even after everything, she was voted via public opinion to be executed. But, her mother had other plans, and as she secretly slipped the cell key into her daughter’s hand, she spoke to about the upcoming royal meeting taking place in Vrondi, and the Fotian airships that would be leaving that very night.

With her armor and a small travel bag of items, she slipped onto the departing airship, and headed for Vrondi, and hopefully, to a new life...

[Dread]

Frankie Cabrera | Medic

Frankie Cabrera

_{{ “The best medic is the one you run to and can't find.” }}

- General Characteristics -

| {Full Name} |

Francesca (pronounced: Fran-Chess-Ka) Cabrera

| {Nickname/Callsign} |

”Frankie”, “Fran” (which she hates), “Doc” or “Sticks” (mainly due to her petite frame)

| {Age} |

Nineteen

| {Gender} |

Female

| {Appearance} |

Standing at just under five feet, Frankie doesn’t mind the fact that her smaller, petite stature keeps her hidden in plain sight and being rather on the androgynous side, she leans toward gender neutral and simple wardrobes, especially those that don’t draw unwanted attention. She keeps her dark hair short most of the time, except during those hot months where she may shave her head completely just so she doesn’t have to fuss with it.

---

- Psychological Profile -

| {Personality} |

For the most part, she is quite introverted, and tends to keep her distance from social engagements as much as possible, unless it is with close friends she trusts. Some see her as rather quirky at times, and others are just confused by her appearance, as those who may not know her that well, aren’t sure if she is a girl or boy. Relationships were few and far between, but that’s how she liked it, not allowing others to get too close and keeping herself busy enough not to worry about such things.

| {Fears/Limitations} |

Growing up and living in a society that just seemed borderline unstable and insane, not much really phased the young girl, and being exposed to her fair share of blood and broken body parts steeled her mind to a lot of the weird happenings of the world. However, she still feared her own skills, especially when so many of her community relied on people within the medical field not to screw anything up. Self-consciousness was always something that haunted her, and while she cared very little about what people said (they were only words, right?), there were times when she just wanted to hide away somewhere aways from everyone and everything. She found herself, from time to time, thinking about her family and still had no idea of their welfare.

| {Place of Origin} |

Born and raised in a settlement just outside of what was once Boston, she had rarely ventured far from her dwelling until the raiders came, where she was forced to move from one settlement to another.

| {Background} |

Growing up as an only child within a relatively large settlement seemed to put more pressure on her than she’d expected, especially when it came down to her mother and father passing the “medical torch” to their kid. Of course the only problem with that was Frankie didn’t want anything to do with it. At an early age, she’d loved architecture and building, admiring the old steel, glass, and stone structures in and around the settlement, hoping to one day become a builder herself. When not going through the typical academics of school as well as medical training and apprenticeship, she would escape onto vacant rooftops or the confines of some shelled out building, spending hours drawing up mock plans of structures that she dreamed could make things better for the community. However, her parents had a different path for her to travel, and basically laid down one guilt trip after another on the last of their bloodline until she’d caved and decided to become an apprentice to her father, who was unfortunately falling into serious illness himself from years of smoking unfiltered tobacco.

Several months had gone by, and while tirelessly studying to become a medic wasn’t taxing enough, her father had passed away in the night after battling emphysema, leaving a rift in the girl’s heart that not even her mother could heal right away. The irony of fixing everyone else, was that she found it the most difficult to fix her own issues, but fortunately friends within the community came together to help as best they could.

If there hadn’t been enough salt rubbed into the proverbial wound of life, raider attacks had become much more common as the settlement was essentially being scouted for months by those who wanted that they had, especially those citizens who were well versed in medicine and the like. What followed was an ugly scenario, needless to say, and the raiders seemed to have no problem putting a bullet in the heads of those who didn’t comply with their way of things. Sadly, even though who were there to protect the settlement ended up defecting for promises of a “better life” with the savage raiders. Because of her medical background, Frankie had been one of the unfortunate to be taken back to one of the raider encampments deep inside an old satellite base only to be put to work stitching up people she didn’t even know, and didn't’ care to know. There, she’d met her first ghoul -actually many of them- and it was something she’d only heard of but never met in person. But as timed passed, fear was replaced with a resolve to just do what she was put there to do, help those who couldn't help themselves.

For the next several years, going into the tail-end of her teenage years, Frankie found herself moving from one raider camp to another, very rarely sticking around for long until transplanted once again. She was also challenged on a daily basis to push her skills even further, which was a curse and a blessing all at once. She missed her family, and yet feared she would never see them again, even accepted it the more days went by without even a hint of their still being alive. The raiders, however, seemed to enjoy the girl’s company, and saw her as a boon more than anything else, and to show their own twisted gratitude, they essentially taught her how to fight dirty, and use a firearm when she really needed to make a point. While their tactics were something she had been unaccustomed to, the fact that she at least learned how to defend herself helped to grow her own confidence. Of course, she still kept the idea of escaping in the forefront of her mind, but it was just a matter of when and how.

---

- Survival Characteristics -

| {Non-Combat Skills} |

General Practice Physician, Triage, Field medic, and herbalist. She is also quite adept at drawing and painting, as well as stretching exercises and Yoga to balance the body and mind.

| {Possessions} |

Since being taken from her home, Frankie doesn’t own much these days that isn’t essential to her every day work life.

| {Combat Skills} |

Those few years living within the Raider’s community has given her a better understanding of combat and field medicine, and allowed her to quickly and efficiently diagnose and treat a wide array of wounds. In addition, she has both hand-to-hand combat experience and firearm training, which is just enough to make her dangerous.

| {Gear} |

A pretty good assortment of (stolen) medical tools, gauze, and fluids for sterilization and plasma replacement if needed. All neatly packed in their place in a study camo field medic backpack. When not out in the field, she tends to walk around with a leather shoulder bag filled with necessary medical equipment for “house calls”.

Aside from her "tools of the trade", she carries with her the always reliable (and slightly modified) 10mm handgun, as well as standard issue combat knife, and quarterstaff that she pretty much found on the side of the road.

[Dread]

Brynn Franklin

Name: Brynn Franklin

Nicknames: Whatever ridiculous name her family comes up with.

Age: 17

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Hetero

In Depth Appearance: Standing at roughly five-foot-six-inches, Brynn (and her twin sister) were both shorter than the average females of their extended family. With a slim frame, beautifully defined facial features, and a bit of thickness in all the right (or wrong, depending on who you ask) places, Brynn still found herself falling into self-consciousness and barely enjoyed her own reflection. As of late, she keeps her hair buzzed or cropped, and proudly wears her relatively new “black rose” tattoo on the right side of her neck.

Habits//Quirks//Oddities: Usually she finds herself humming or singing to music that's only playing in her head, especially when nervous or anxious. Occasionally talks to herself, and maybe even answers her own questions out loud. She also comes off as a bit of a germaphobe, washing or sanitizing her hands quite often throughout the day. And a useful, but still rather unusual, is being able to nap just about anywhere, almost like a cat.

Hobbies: Brynn enjoys drawing and painting more than just about anything else. Running and swimming comes in a close second.

Likes: sushi, drawing, painting, running, watching Netflix, swimming, frappuccinos, and occasionally smoking Marijuana

Dislikes: Stuck-up attitudes, cold weather, crowds, waiting, body odor, being touched, airplanes, hypocrites,

Personality Traits: Borderline Extrovert | Imaginative | Impatient | Self Deprecating | Anxious | Impulsive | Picky | Perfectionist (especially with her artwork)

Personality: To say that Brynn speaks her mind would be an understatement, because when the girl takes issue with something (which seems to be quite often) her opinions are given whether anyone wants it or not. Other times, however, she can be quite calm and reserved, delving into her artwork or ignoring everyone around her with headphones and good beats. Really depends on the day or perhaps phases of the moon. Who knows? Even though the relationship with her family is rather strained, she still loves them but doesn't always want to show it in any obvious way. Her sister, Ella, is probably one of the only people in the world that understands her random though patterns, and angsty attitude toward life, but she still gets on her nerves regardless.

History:
“Seventeen and clearly you have life figured out!…”

Brynn was tired of hearing that line quoted by her parents on nearly a daily basis, sometimes indirectly aimed towards her sister Ella, but always meant for her twin who couldn’t have been more different on many levels. But what the hell was wrong with being “different”? Just because you were born into wealth, or your parental units were some kind of significance to society, did that mean you had to be just like them and all their disgusting friends? Friends. That word is about as laughable as it’s meaning, whatever that was. When you had money, “friends” could easily be bought, which Brynn was pretty sure had been the secret to her parents success in life, as was most likely the same for the rest of the adults on Rosefell island.

But it didn’t always seem like this…

Growing up Franklin was far less stressful and demanding as a kid, and both Brynn and her identical twin sister were inseparable, one could even say, the best of friends if there ever could have been such a thing. There were no secrets between them, and whether at home or in school, they had each other’s back no matter what challenges they faced head on. And the practical jokes and pranks, oh man, legendary if the Franklin kids could boast about anything. Each Summer they couldn’t wait to see the other kids on Rosefell island, where the memories made were something to look back at and smile about. Mom and Dad were great parents, and while they worked their asses off to provide all the creature comforts and then some, it seemed their attention slowly but surely fell onto Ella, their “golden child”, as her twin sarcastically referred to her. Aside from their personalities, likes and dislikes, and a myriad of other aspects veering in different directions, Brynn just couldn’t figure out why Lewis and Lana saw her sister in a more positive light.

Of course, it might have had something to do with a natural fit into deviant behavior that drove the Franklin parents bad shit crazy just about every day, or perhaps the slipping of grades, sneaking out of classes to go hang out somewhere else, backing dad’s car into a fire hydrant, or a laundry list of shenanigans that has essentially railroaded future chances of Brynn finding positive favor in her parents eyes. Mid-teen years fast approached, and the bond that once kept both sisters inseparable was quickly deteriorating, and the girls found themselves more isolated from one another. As it usually was, boyfriends came and went, and while Brynn wasn’t all that interested in most of the guys that came a long, she made it a point to scare away those who actually liked her twin, and even on a few occasions, bickered over a guy who they both happened to like. But in the end, Brynn just wasn’t the “boy crazy” type and quite caring about relationships of the heart. Her love of art consumed most of her time, as she kept to her sketching and painting, or visited art galleries from time to time hoping to one day have her figurative work displayed for people to enjoy. On the island, her friendships with the other kids wavered, as even their lives have changed from when everyone was younger, but she still hangs with a few of the ones she can tolerate. It was only a summer after all...

Brynn loved her parents and sibling, but as time passed, she just felt less like part of the family, and kept to herself or spent time with the locals of the island, some she already knew, or maybe even strangers-turned-friends. She knew she was different from her sister, and each time she looked at Ella, she became angry because they were essentially identical, so Brynn took the only logical and extreme course of action: she shaved her head and got a tattoo. Needless to say, this sent Lewis and Lana over the edge as punishments came and went, each taking away some privilege that otherwise had little effect on the girl. Yep, the youngest born Franklin twin wanted to be a rebel, and she was certainly treated as such.

[Dread]

J’iardys G’horra | Warrioress of Roh

Name: J’iardys G’horra
Age: 18
Race: Human
Class: Warrior
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Height/Weight: 6’1 / 175



Appearance: Like most of her kin, J’iardys has dark skin, various cultural tattoos along her body, and a tall defined physique which blossomed as adolescence began. She generally wears her walnut-colored locks tied back, or hanging to one side as the other is kept shaved. Armor, if she had any at all, was usually light and flexible; a culmination of stitched hides and reinforced leather, so she had as much free movement as possible.

Birthplace: Roh, in the westernmost settlement where the majority of working class families were kept.

Personality: Reasonably reserved, J’iardys tends to keep to herself, and really only speaks when spoken to or has an opinion about something that really can’t be bottled up for long. However, her pride can become a weapon against her as she may retaliate if threatened, whether idle or otherwise, and can be easily provoked under certain stressful situations.

Strengths: Extremely agile and limber | High Stamina | Resistance to hot/dry conditions | Combat prowess | Defensive specialist/Bodyguard

Weaknesses: Temperamental behavior | Easily angered | Distrust of outsiders

Weapons: Spear made of cured hardwood and leather, with ancient Roh symbols carved along its length, and a leaf-shaped blade. Twin, curved daggers, secured in a belt sheath behind her lower back.

Misc Gear: Small leather satchel of rations and healing herbs.

Bio:
Born to a lower-class family, J’iardys knew first hand the meaning of hard work, and never expected anything to be given to her without some sacrifice. Strict but fair, her family were very supportive of their youngest member, even when she’d decided to take up combat training at an early age. What started out as self-defense became so much more, as she longed to join the Roh militia and serve her people in a way that was apart from the typical agricultural and builder professions of her ancestors. Serve, and to prove to herself and the other males within her tribe that she was just as capable -if not better- as they were not only physically, but intellectually.
Years later, on the girl’s sixteenth birthday, a call went out for able-bodied female warriors to take up arms as guardians for the Prince who hailed from the Costa Islands. For J’iardys, it would not only mean travelling to distant lands, but prestige and perhaps even fortune that she can send back to her community. It was a risk worth taking.

In order to weed out the number of female combatants, a competition was held within Roh, where several races who dwelled -including the hated Demonfolk- fought against one another for a chance to be deemed the “Prince’s Guard”. J’ardys herself fought long and hard for this day, and she eventually won the slot against a very tough Demonfolk warrioress, who later demanded a rematch with the young Roh girl...one day.

Until then, Jiardys bid her family farewell and left for the Costa Islands to meet with her new Princely master.

[Dread]

Brynn G’horra

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Name: Brynn G’horra

Age: 17

Physical Description: At just over six feet of a petite, yet lean build, Brynn’s presence is generally never missed, even when she would rather remain invisible. Although she is not hard to miss mainly due to her blue-ish scaly skin tone and glowing amber eyes. Her wardrobe generally consists a light jacket, v-neck shirts, comfortable jeans, and sneakers. Her head is kept shaved most of the time, rarely allowing it to grow out for no other reason than because she can. And various piercings adorn her ears.

Mutation:
Each genetic strand encoded in her body is limited in its effect due to Brynn being in a more or less developmental stage.

Enhanced Agility & Strength - roughly double that of an average human.

Shapeshifter - At this point in her development, Brynn can morph her facial features and -to an extent- voice to match that of another, provided a DNA imprint has been attained via absorption by touching the target's skin.

Side Effect of “Absorption” Power - Involuntary ability to absorb and sometimes remove the memories, physical strength, and superpowers of anyone she touches, which may render the target unconscious or kill them. Also, the more Brynn comes into contact with people via touch, the more her mind becomes filled with fragmentary psychic echoes of the people she absorbs.

Early History:

“What was he like?” The young girl with the cobalt skin tone asked, her weary head resting comfortably on the pillow while her small frame curled up with an old patchwork blanket snug against her chin.

The grizzled man who sat a few feet away from the cot fell silent for a moment as though in deep thought, rubbing sore, bruised, and bloodied knuckles from the effects of the metal infused within his body.

“He was-" Logan’s thoughts drifted before continuing. “Complicated.” He cracked a half smile. “But, he cared more about the coexistence of mutants and humans more than anyone I've ever encountered in all my years.”

Silence once again hovered momentarily, until the small, tired voice of the little girl broke through. “I wish he was still alive. I wish he was here.”

The old man -”Wolverine” as he was once known- never thought such an obvious comment would hit him as it did, bringing a single tear rolling down an otherwise weathered and weary visage.

“You and me both, kid…”

---

- Hiding in Plain Sight -

Like most children her age, Brynn wanted more than anything to just be a kid, living a normal life amongst the vast population of non-mutants. But, she wasn't like most kids. She was a mutant, and one who stuck out like a sore thumb if she wasn't careful. For her, keeping a low profile was just part of growing up in a world that considered all mutants a threat because of humanity’s own short sightedness and general lack of understanding. What little that was derived from old news articles, comic books, and underground internet forums painted a bleak picture of a life that seemed to continue on even for the current group of mutants that she surrounded herself with. They were her brothers and sisters -for better or worse- and yet she hoped that one day the archaic notion of “hope” that Professor Charles Xavier had all those years ago would be realized in her lifetime.

Otherwise, why even exist at all?

- Alkali-Transigen -

No one liked being a lab rat, and yet for those kids Brynn grew closest to who were trapped in the facility known as “Transigen”, that was all they ever knew. Since her birth from inside the womb of a woman she would never have the chance to meet, the idea of “freedom” was all but a myth, and each day was worse than the next. And don’t even think about crying, because the result was a fate worse than death, which was isolation from anyone you ever cared about. “You don’t need attachments, you need results.” A phrase drilled into her young mind each day. The young girl’s blue-tinted skin and unusual scales that blemished her complexion and much of the rest of her body was quite the mystery to some of the doctors, but not so much to others, as Brynn’s genetic make-up was partially composed of the mutant, Raven Darkhölme, or better known as Mystique. The powers granted to her by the X-gene allowed for incredible feats of agility and strength, at-will alteration to her physique and voice, as well as the lesser power of life-force absorption through skin-on-skin transference, something of which had become somewhat of a curse in her own eyes.

Despite the incredible physical manipulation that her body could endure, it seemed the scientist’s primary focus was the girl’s enhanced strength and agility, which allowed her combat prowess to flourish through continued brutal training in hand-to-hand techniques as well as melee weaponry. Transigen didn’t care about the emotional toll it took on her each day, but rather progress in harnessing a weapon out of an otherwise useless child. Aside from the mutations from within, Brynn hid her outer appearance as best she could, shying away or simply breaking any reflective surfaces in attempt to rid herself of ever having to lay eyes on her true form. But, what had once become a hindrance to her, also fueled her own passion to continue developing the inherent shapeshifting abilities that were sorely overlooked by doctors and nurses. An ability, that aided her eventual escape from Transigen for good.

While many compassionate on-staff nurses assisted the surviving children in their escape from the Institution, Brynn hadn’t been so lucky as her constant isolation from others through much of her time there made it that much easier for others to miss her presence. But she didn’t need them. She didn’t need anyone. And when the opportunity arose, she took on the facial appearance of one of the nurses, threw a pair of scrubs and a lab coat on, and slipped out of the facility along with several others, and on the run.

- Mutant Refugees and the Wolverine -

The countless days hidden away at the camp were anything but fun for Brynn, and while she wanted her freedom so badly, she also had nowhere else to go. There was no family to visit, no house to return to, no place to truly call her own. But the comradery that quickly developed within the tight-knit group of kids held a special place in her heart, because for the first time she wasn’t locked away, alone and scared. However, the threat was still very real to her, and to the rest of them, because she knew that the Alkali group would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. But, just as the girl’s hope began to waver like so many, the arrival of Logan stirred within her heart a renewed vigor. Interactions with Wolverine himself were few and far between, but the moments she had were something to be cherished, as he confirmed many questions that she’d had about her kind.

But the happiness only lasted for so long as fighting came eventually, killing many of her friends in the process, and no matter how hard she fought against the violent influx of military resistance, the sorrow of loss had never quite vanished from her mind. Sure, they may have won the battle, but the death of Logan and any possibility of Eden made it seem that the war was lost. For the first time in a long time, the blue-skinned mutant cried her little heart out, as did many on that day, but hope was closer that she thought.

- Crossing the Canadian Border -

With a large hooded jacket, and a backpack full of anything she could carry, Brynn took the long trek North with the group until eventually landing on the other side of the Canadian border where they were met by law enforcement and officials who genuinely seemed to care about reigniting the light that had slowly been dwindling in the previous years. The girl had her doubts, however, but how could she not doubt these “adults” who offered their help to a bunch of unknown kids for nothing? There had to be a catch. There was always a catch. But, once again, Brynn was faced with the decision of going out into the world on her own, or staying with the only friends she ever knew. Survival, at this point in her young life, was the only option, and so she followed her saviors to the supposed “Promise Land”, still holding onto doubt regardless.

- Camp Claremont -

More Winters had passed than she could remember, and her new home was more than she could have ever asked for. It was a chance for her to finally slow down, and truly understand who she was, where she came from, and what the possibilities of her future could be. It was a chance to learn at her own pace, to develop her mutant powers under guidance which didn’t demand but rather nurtured, allowing Brynn’s potential to grow in a healthy and positive way. As a member of a real community, she and many of her friends could enjoy the life that they deserved, while still safely living and learning without interference from the outside world. A certain respect for herself began to flourish as well, as she didn’t hide from her own reflection any longer, but rather acknowledged the fact that “being different” wasn’t so bad.

But, as time went by, and those who were once children were now young adults, a decision was being made on whether it was time to break free and go their own way, or stay at Camp Claremont to live out as long as they needed. Brynn, however, wasn’t sure if she wanted to face the “real world” alone, away from what she has known for so long, but at the same time, she needed the freedom that was being given...

Late History:

It was settled, at least for Brynn’s part, and her decision was to finally set out on her own to experience firsthand the “freedoms” that she dreamed of for so many years. Freedoms that were both exciting and terrifying. But thankfully, the transition wasn’t all that painful of a process, especially with Elizabeth Sanders keeping a close eye and providing the necessary resources she needed to live apart from the camp and her friends. She said her goodbyes to the others, knowing that she’d see them again, but the shadow of doubt loomed overhead regardless of how many times she’d reassure herself.

The trip to her new home took about a half hour, as the transport -packed with clothes, food, and miscellaneous belongings she’d had- made its way through several winding back roads until finally stopping in front of an old, non-descript cabin. As one of the Canadian Government’s many safehouses, it was fully stocked with security measures in the upper level of the cabin itself, as well in it’s sub-level bomb shelter, which had a tunnel leading about a half mile from the cabin’s location, coming up out of a hidden hatch.

As the transport left, Brynn watched the tail lights disappear into distant mist, wondering if she’d truly made the right decision...

[Dread]

Aric Kel’lor | Rogue

Name: Aric Kel’lor

Gender: Male

Age: 18

Race: Half-Elf

Class: Rogue

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Occupation: Primarily Head Cook on sailing vessel but also Assistant to Quartermaster on certain issues pertaining to foodstuff.

Abilities: Stealth/Subterfuge, Sleight of hand, Lockpicking, Trap sense, and Alchemy (specifically poisons)

Magic: Aric has no inherent magical abilities but rather an enchanted “Elemental Rapier” which imbues the blade with fire, ice, or electricity based on a single word in the Draconic language related to a specific element. This can only happen twice a day.

Personality: For the most part, Aric is a good kid, confident, headstrong, and doesn’t mind lending a hand to a friend or stranger. His extrovertedness can be a bit overbearing to some as he does enjoy being the center of attention, specifically when he gets to show off his swordsmanship. He’s outspoken on just about every topic that doesn’t agree with him (and will clearly let you know it), and will rarely ever “go with the flow” unless he just doesn’t care enough to swim against the current. He loves a good adventure and will almost always go searching for one if given enough freedom, especially if fortune awaits on the other side.

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Appearance: Slightly taller and leaner frame than the average human male, Aric’s facial features are defined and angular, while his timeless youthful visage leans more so toward his elven half, giving a slightly androgynous appearance if one isn’t paying much attention. His hair is dark, unkempt, generally short because who really has time to deal with long flowing locks? However, in certain less hospitable regions of the world, his slightly pointed ears tend to draw more attention than he wants, regardless of whether or not he invited the attention himself. And the scar, across the right side of his face is a reminder that even he isn’t untouchable.

History: Adopted by a lower middle-class human family, Aric had spend most of his youth exploring the mines and rocky cliffs that comprised the entirety of his home terrain, craving adventure beyond what his young eyes could see despite the growing dangers of dragon attacks. Both his parents worked as career miners and agriculturalists, helping to discover new and innovative ways of utilizing the otherwise scarce resources at their disposal as well as efficient harvesting methods. Aric, however, wanted nothing to do with that life. Call it youthful arrogance, or simply boredom over the same daily routines, but the boy could rarely go a day without mention of the “high seas". His father blamed his son's unpredictable and highly curious behavior on the elvish blood that mixed with his human, always waging an internal battle to see who'd come out on top. It seemed the nature of the elf was succeeding.

At age thirteen, with just a small bag packed, Aric made the bold choice of leaving, but without anyone's consent, sneaking onto a supply and mercenary vessel set to leave immediately. The only proof he’d not been kidnapped was a letter to his kin in which he said his goodbyes, vowing to one day return.

The boy hid as best he could, but the deception only worked for so long, and the stowaway was eventually discovered by the crew, who threatened to toss him overboard. However, the captain had other plans, and quickly put the kid to work as a “cabin boy” on just about any odd job in and around the ship to pay his way. Weeks turned into months as the ship made its way from one port to another dropping off supplies and soldiers to help with relief efforts. With each day the boy grew stronger, more nimble, and was taught not only his way around the ship, but unarmed as well as melee combat by his crew mates, who eventually warmed up to their young protege. His position took a lateral slide as he moved to the ship’s assistant cook, learning the ins and outs of hunting, catching, cleaning, and finally preparing each meal for as many crew members as it would take.

By eighteen years of age, Aric had become not only an accomplished combatant and fisherman, but cook as well, taking on the lead position and utilizing what he'd learned to assist the Quartermaster in stretching out rations and conserving water on board. He also gained the appropriate knowledge of dragons and how to effectively fight them, or at the very least, survive long enough to fight them again.

He found that his thoughts wandered from time to time on his home, hoping that both of his parents were well, but rarely had any inclination to return for good. It was the freedom of the open seas that called each day, and he answered with arms wide.