Important items: Smartphone, Laptop, Pistol, First Aid Kit.
Short Bio: Gavin Prince was the son of an artisan metalworker and sculptor who alternated between making ceremonial swords for rich people, practical swords for martial artists, and abstract art for museums and rich collectors. Sent to college to study fine arts, Gavin found himself attracted to history, literature...and both men and women. Nevertheless, he continued to persevere studying art and other subjects by day, working with his hands with his father by night. Despite said father tending to be...reserved on matters of sex and the body, his sole reaction to Gavin 'coming out' as bisexual was:
"Just get someone who can work with their hands."
And that was that. One day, on the eve of 2020, while 'celebrating' the new years' with his current boyfriend, Gavin fell asleep, drunk. He would then receive a vision of a beautiful, winged woman in white robes, with brown skin and black hair and deep blue eyes. She would then look at Gavin, and say:
"The World is about to be worse. Stop it." Power, exhilirating energy, would then enter Gavin, and he knew this, that this would be part of him, power that can be used to save people, both those with Magic and those without. He would then pick a school, and select two: High and Timespace, and increase his power in them because he only chose two schools out of six. And with that, he would drift back to sleep...
When he woke up, he was sober and without a hangover, and he knew what to do. Some hours later, he would apply for 'leave' from his university while informing his father that he would be going on a trip to study medieval armor-making techniques in Britain; this was a lie.
The truth was that he was going to go to the town of Brightwell, Illinois, where he would then send messages to people that, he knew, had been visited by the Malakim...
Skills/Flaws:
Metalworker - Gavin knows how to shape metal, and otherwise work with his hands. This also makes him a dab hand at power tools.
Swordsman - Gavin knows the basics of swordsmanship.
Guileless - Gavin is too honest and trusting for his own good.
Inexperienced - Gavin is new to this whole 'saving the world' business.
Spell List:
Eye of the Monarch (High Magic) - Gavin can see all Magic, whether it is being cast, or a passive effect. This also works on illusions.
Bolt of Prime (High Magic) - Gavin can send out a bolt of silvery-white energy that can inflict damage which cannot be healed by magic.
Dispel Timespace Magic (High Magic) - Gavin can dispel any magic that uses Timespace, including scrying spells.
Archives of Time and Space (Timespace) - Gavin can look at a reflective surface, and see visions of the past, present, and future.
Flight (Timespace) - Gavin can use his control of the fabric of space to fly up into the air without World Magic.
Gate (Timespace) - Gavin can open a portal as small as his fist or as large as an SUV and keep it open for at least 15 minutes. Said portal can lead to any place whose picture he had seen.
Name: Conrad Helmsman Age: 28 Physical Description: Unshaven, often smells of smoke and sweat, and with a pondering look on his face. Important items: Sketchbook, Messkit/Firestarter, Belt knife, Flashlight, Poncho, Judge Taurus Short Bio: Conrad grew up traveling- his father was a biologist that specialized in identifying and fighting off invasive species. Lots of camping, hiking, helicopter rides, and long walks in the woods. It wasn't a bad thing though. He grew to appreciate the silence of the forest and the beauty of nature. The tiniest mountain stream is as beautiful as the broadest horizon, given a closer inspection and consideration. The force of tree roots breaking apart a granite mountain face, the terrifying power of a flash flood in a narrow canyon. He followed in his Father's footsteps but leaned more to the side of a general responder to wilderness emergencies.
As he grew older, he became gradually more introspective. Conrad didn't hate people, but he didn't understand them either. Large crowds were out of his comfort zone, though he enjoyed talking to the occasional hiker or tourist group he met on the trail. It was interesting to hear different viewpoints and philosophies about the world. Eventually, he began to hear odd tales of powers and creatures appearing. It wasn't long until one day, atop Mount Pilatus in Lucerne, Switzerland, that he had an experience of his own.
"Amazing, isn't it?" Conrad's head didn't even turn from the view he was taking in. "Yeah, it really is." Next to him, a winged being in flowing robes stood on the stone railing. None of the other few on the terrace could see it. "If you had the power to, would you protect it?" "You mean the earth? In a heartbeat." "Yes, earth- and the people on it." "Ah..." Conrad was silent for a moment. "Are we worth saving?" "That depends on what you mean by worth. You of all people should know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder." "And you consider mankind beautiful." "Indeed, and you do too." "Yes... I suppose I do."
Skills/Flaws: Awe - Conrad is amazed by nature and power, and can be left distracted or dumbstruck by a particularly impressive display of power... or a good enough view. Superstition - He is possessed by a healthy respect for the creepily unknown, also known as 'Hell Nah' syndrome. This is recently amplified by his ability to see magical energies. Anti-Social - Not a fan of people. One on one is fine, even three on one. But throw him into a crowded room and he tends to shut down. Traveller - Conrad is experienced in travelling, camping, and in general, life on the road. Not survival per se, but definitely some knowledge in practicality and planning. Artistry - Conrad is very proficient in sketching, though he doesn't dabble too much in other kinds of art other than calligraphy.
Spell List:
Force of Nature {High} - Conrad may pull available magical energy from the sky and earth.
True Sight {High} - Conrad can see all magic, passive or active, as well as differentiate between enchanted objects and non-enchanted, if a being has magical potential, and can tell if a person has four or more spells in a specific school of magic.
Protection {High} - Conrad can create seals that ward their locality and/or target from magic.
Faery Fire {High} - Conrad can produce and throw magical conflagrations of white fire that cause burns to Mages and Magical Creatures that cannot be healed by magic.
Dispell High Magic {High} - Conrad can dispel any magic that uses High magic, including enchantments.
Enchanter {High} - Conrad may enchant objects with spells that he or another party member knows, dependant on their durability.
Physical Description: Tall and skinny, sandy blonde hair, pale skin, dark blue eyes. 6'7", 200 lbs.
Important items: Smartphone, Desktop computer, P90, and embalming kit.
Short Bio: Haydrian has had a long-time fascination with death and politics. Not exactly the sort of thing you'd expect a fourteen-year-old boy to spend their time thinking about, but what can you do, at least that’s what his parents use to say. His parents worried about his strange fascination with death and nurtured his interest in politics. They taught Haydrian their personal beliefs about the state of the government, attempting to feed his hunger for political knowledge. They assumed they were helping mold his opinions to match their own, but Haydrian had no intention of following their political agendas. Yes, he listened to what they had to say with rapt attention, but only so that he could dissect the meanings behind their words. He thought it important to understand people and what they believed in. After all, how would he ever be able to unite a world he didn’t understand?
Despite his unique interests, Haydrian was never an outcast. You would never have called him popular per se, but he was never without his “Patchwork Posy”, as he referred to them. This was and is a group of close friends that Haydrian accumulated/accumulates wherever he might be. In high school its ranks held the popular and the sideliners, and today is no different. He chose to make friends from every walk of life available to him and growing up in New York city gave him plenty of walks to access. He was considered a very influential power in his school, though no one can point to any specific thing that he had a part in making happen.
Once out of high school Haydrian did the exact opposite of what was expected of him. He became an Assistant at a local Morgue. His parents were devastated. What had become of his bright future as a leader of nations? Everyone not within his inner circle was confused, but if those closest to him were asked their opinion on his choice in career they would often shrug and say, “Haydrian does what he does, and I’ve got no reason to worry about it.”. The truth was they knew something others didn’t. They understood how Haydrians mind worked, and more importantly they knew his plans. Haydrian had no intention of being in the spotlight any time soon, as far as he was concerned, he wasn’t yet ready to step into politics. With so many things yet to learn about people, what better place to meet them and come to understand their inner workings than a Morgue? Here he saw people at their most vulnerable and learned to comfort and console the un-consolable, whoever they might be. He became known for his silver tongue by his co- workers, all of whom had a healthy respect and fear of the boy become man. Respect because he was genuinely good at what he did, and fear because of his nightly habits. They wouldn’t go so far as to call him a Necrophiliac, after all he had never done anything explicitly wrong with a corpse. He talked to them mostly, shake their hands and pretend like he was getting to know them. Worse than this though were the long hours he would spend simply staring at the bodies. It unnerved anyone who watched.
Haydrian worked his way up the ladder at the Morgue for a few years, eventually ceasing all interaction with the living customers, preferring instead to spend his time with the corpses. Few of his co-workers questioned him, leaving him to do the work that none of them particularly cared for anyway. His confidants still seamed unshaken by Haydrian’s strange tendencies, still shrugging off questions asked by others.
Everyone was so preoccupied with his more eccentric behavior that they missed the more important and elaborate things going on behind the scenes. It hadn’t taken long for Haydrians circle of influence to grow to envelope people in positions of power. It was at about that point that Haydrian stopped seeing living customers. He began establishing himself in both the legitimate business world, and the black market. He never did anything to shady, but he wasn’t above illegal activity if it furthered his goals.
And so his life progressed for some time, uneventful to those not in the know, and never a dull moment for those on the inside. Those close confidants honestly didn’t think that anything could make their lives more exciting or meaningful. Until Haydrian came to them and told them about a dream he had had.
He told them he’d just finished a meeting with one of their contacts down at the docks and had resumed stitching up the corpse he was working on. It had been a long night, and so wasn’t surprised when he started seeing things. He said it started with the lights, they began to flicker unpredictably. Then they went out altogether. He was so tired he didn’t even stop his work but continued sewing.
It was then that he saw the glow. It was a reflection in the metal table he worked on, showing a blue glow of light from behind him. Haydrian turned. He told them he would never forget what he saw. Scattered around the room, floating and drifting aimlessly were what appeared to be glowing blue people. Ghosts, he’d thought, they’re real. It was then that he fainted from exhaustion.
In his sleep he continued to see things. Two winged women appeared before him in the middle of a vast dark hall, the light emanating from them the only illumination to be seen. The walls and floors were black and glistened like obsidian. One woman glowed white, and the other glowed with an eerie blackness that defied logic. In sync the both stretched out one hand and said, “Choose.”. Three fire appeared around the two, circling them slowly. One was kindled by the bones and flesh of the living, another by the material of this world, and the last by the winds of change. Haydrian couldn’t describe what they looked like; he only knew what they stood for.
The women began to fade, the fires leaving them and circling Haydrian instead, uttering one last phrase, “Choose your path.”. It was in that moment that Haydrian knew what they meant. They represented good, and evil and they wanted him to decide which of them he would follow. That made things simple. He smiled and said, “Neither.” And reached out and grabbed all three flames. It was then that he woke up, unsure if what had happened was a dream of not. He reached up to pull himself off of the ground, brushing against the corpse he had been working on as he did so. He felt something akin to the sparking sensation of static electricity as their skin met. As Haydrian reached his feet he brushed off his clothing and then saw something out of the corner of his eye. Movement.
His friends laughed; certain this story was only meant as a joke to scare them. But Haydrian wasn’t smiling. He stepped to side and everyone stopped laughing. In walked the body of a man, a smiling happy looking man. With his chest half sewn closed and his stomach partly hanging out. Everyone sat down and looked at Haydrian expectantly.
Skills/Flaws: Charisma: Haydrian is practiced in the art of human manipulation.
Embalming: Haydrian is an expert in all embalmment techniques and can stitch up bodies that most would expect to be closed casket funerals.
Tunnel Vision: Haydrian has a hard time focusing on anything not pertaining to his life long goals, and he often misses important details that his close confidants have to take care of for him.
Un-Afraid: Haydrian doesn’t always know when to cash in his chips, or when he has overstepped his boundaries.
Spell List
Raise the Dead: Haydrian can raise/summon small to large numbers of corpses, expending appropriate amounts of energy to do so.
Sculpt: An artist in many ways Haydrian has taken to using his Change magic to mold various materials into whatever form he desires.
Animate: Using his change and world magic Haydrian can cause inanimate things to move fluidly and abbey his orders.
Grasp the Stars: Using world magic Haydrian can distort and affect gravitational fields.
The Dead Still Live: Haydrian can see and interact with spirits of those that have passed away, and using world magic give them the limited ability to interact with the world around them, essentially creating poltergeists.
Body Snatch: Haydrian can force a living soul and a dead soul to swap places. If the dead soul was a free floating soul at the time the spell is cast, the living soul still takes its place.
Important items: Sling shot, pocket full of rubber bands, nunchucks, little black notebook, zit ties.
Short Bio: A private investigator. While doing the typical work of finding cats and catching cheating spouses Archer ran afoul of a Magi and ended up catching three full spikes of concrete through the chest.
As he lay there on the side of the road fading in and out of consciousness while his life's essence leaked into a hungry storm drain he, ruminating on the regrets of his life, he was unexpectedly visited by a client.
An angel came down, not to pull him up to heaven but with a god damn job offer of all things.
He accepted. Of course he accepted, once ether heard the pay. She was gonna give him "TIME". Considering the circumstances it was just about the only thing she could offer him.
A week later he woke up in the hospital with three fresh scars, a bill he couldn't pay, and tasked with saving the world.
Skills/Flaws:
(Skill)Contacts: Archer is good at his job. As such he has a number of contacts, both in the police and the underworld, and if he gets desperate those include a number of influential former clients.
(Skill)Martial Arts Enthusiast: Archer doesn't actually know kung-fu. What he did do was grow up watching a lot of Shaw Brothers movies and taught himself to fight because he wanted to look as cool as those guys.
(Flaw) Enemy: When a guy put three chunks of the sidewalk through his chest Archer assumed it was nothing personal. When he got out of the hospital to find someone had burned the building his office was in to the ground he started to think someone might be out to get him. When someone tapped on his car window one night, asked who is was, and then pulled out a gun and tried to kill him he confirmed those suspicions. Someone, somewhere, is out to get him.
(Flaw) Arrogant: Archer has been put down ever since he was young. Now he not only has power and someone trying to kill him, but is "on a mission from God." As far as he's concerned he's Human #1.
Spell List:
(Time) Bullet Time: Archer has set it up so that he automatically enters Bullet Time whenever a bullet is coming at him, even if he can't see the thing.
(Time) Chronoeyes;PAST: When activated blue clock faces appear overlaid on Archer's pupils. When he focuses on something while this power is active it spawns a ghostly blue trail showing the path that it has taken to get where it is now. Only Archer can see this path, and it remains until Archer focuses on an new target.
(Time) Chronoeyes;FUTURE: When activated red clock faces appear overlaid on Archer's pupils. When he focuses on something while this power is active it spawns a red trail showing the path it will take in the future if Archer doesn't interfer with it. Only Archer can see this trail, and it remains until Archer focuses on a new target.
(Time) Chrono's Touch; HASTE: A strange glow envelopes an item Archer touches, causing the item to move faster than normal. Even a thrown rock can carry the force of a bullet when sped up. This effect can also be applied to Archers arms and legs. The amount of speed gained can be tuned like a dial so he dosen't put stones through torsos if he dosent want to or tear off his own arms.
(Time) Chronos's Touch;STOP: Archer can freeze any inanimate object in time for as long as he's in physical contact with it.
(Time)Chronos's Touch;DUST: Archer forces an inorganic object he's touching to rapidly age.
Important items: iPod, "I don't give a Hufflefuck" mug, Round blue tinted sunglasses, Candy bag, and Stolen identity collection
Short Bio: Kai was always the odd one out in her family. She didn't look like any of her sisters. More often than not she was mistaken for a boy, not that she cared. The Nazareti's are a spiritual family and not in a Christianity sense, but in a Nature spirits kind of way. Her family swears up and down they're Wiccans and she swears they're all crazy. Can't get her to believe in magic no matter how many buildings Criss Angel falls from. So when she turned 18 she skipped town, left her family in their commune and hit the big city for better things and the American dream...not.
Kai did move to the city, but she was naive to how hard it was to afford a decent apartment. Hell even the shitty ones were expensive. With her only work experience being in a gas station in the middle of the desert, she had to get creative. That Lying Bitch is her name and Con Artistry is her game. There wasn't a scam she couldn't pull or a man she couldn't trick. From phoning old grannies to get their social security numbers to selling "miracle" elixirs and palm readings to the hopelessly gullible. Hell, she even resold a used car to the same person when he came in to complain it didn't work like she said it did. She told him she'll sell him a better working car of the same make and model for half the price. Had her boys park it on the opposite side of the lot and voila! Dumb chump.
Kai was up planning a Ponzi scheme one night when she heard wings flapping in her kitchen. She thought she left the window open and those damn rats with wings were crowding on her windowsill again, so she got up to shoo them away only to see a giant, pure white, ethereal harpy looking creature with flat features, claws for hands, and talons for feet. She swore she hadn't did any drugs, not since she toked up with a mark hoping she'd be so out of it she wouldn't notice Kai going through her bank information. Almost got caught too. That was back when she was green. Never made that mistake again.
"Not the best human I could have found, but not the most despicable either. Fight for this world, yes?" It said, voice screechy, and Kai definitely thought she lost her mind.
"Yeah, sure. Fight for it. Got it. Now get out." She rushed to make it disappear. She blinked and it was gone.
No idea what she agreed to, Kai manifested magic and still isn't convinced her new abilities aren't her imagination.
Skills/Flaws:
Guile - Too sly and cunning for the world to handle.
Conning - Did I mention she's a con artist?
Denial - Doesn't believe what she can do is magic, but uses it to her advantage anyway.
Distrust - She's in the business of lying. If people can't trust her not to fuck them over, then she can't trust anyone not to do the same to her.
Spell List:
Shadow Step (World) - Kai can sink into shadows to hide or travel short distances from shadow to shadow.
Calling the Storm (World) - Kai can call any type of storm and control the elements of the storm as long as it's native to the region.
Altered Properties (Change) - Kai can change the state (color, density, shape, solid, liquid, gas, molecular make up, etc.) of any substance known to man, however the change is temporary. The item can only be changed for twenty-four hours, before turning back. The exception is turning a human being to dust. That doesn't reverse.
Reshape (Change) - Kai can rebuild anything that is broken back into it's original shape or dismantle it into pieces.
Silver Speak (Mind): Kai can convince any person or animal to do anything she says. The more vapid the being the easier it is to convince them.
Amnesia (Mind): Kai can erase memories. If she doesn't concentrate on specific memories when shifting through someone's mind she can accidentally cause permanent amnesia. *Mind magic doesn't work against someone strong willed or if they know the spell.
Physical Description: Depending on the season, Abigail has two skin tones - pale and sunburnt. She's short and lanky, with knobbly joints, an upturned nose and snaggly teeth. Often has a spot or two on her face. Pale blonde greasy hair which she either wears loose, covers with an equally greasy baseball cap or ties up into an unappealingly tight ponytail. She wears thrift shop fashion or sports gear. Often smells of teenage BO.
Important items: Empty Can of Redbull (full of cigarettes), Fake ID, Lucky Teatowel, Swiss Army Knife, Rollerskates, Frosted Pink Nokia Flip-phone (with stickers) and Duct Tape.
Short Bio:
Abigail grew up with her grandparents in a caravan that cruised around Arizona. They were fulltimers; a beautiful nomadic subculture of trailer park inhabitants that scuttle from Solero Springs to Redville Acres, from camp to park and back again when they'e outstayed their welcome. She didn't know her father and her mother was incarcerated around a decade ago for drug-related charges. They were kind yet misguided people who did the best for a little girl who found herself in an awkward situation.
Where they could, Meemaw and Pops forced the impetuous rapscallion into whichever public school they could find. Her education was disjointed and patchy but it kept her occupied. They were the Catholic, god-fearing sort who, having failed their daughter, were twice as insistent to keep her demon-spawn on the straight and narrow. Abigail took to sports rather than drugs. Academia frustrated her but the rustic, eccentric and ultimately homely lifestyle of the various camper parks she frequented had imbibed her with knowledge that you'd generally expect to pick up from toothless old hermits and professional recidivists. She's bright, just not in the way you'd expect. Most of the time she doesn't elect to use her brightness, which probably explains the myriad of stories she's similarly accumulated over such a brief and tumultuous lifespan.
Then one day, Abigail bummed a cigarette off a suspicious fellow outside a betting parlour and, on the walk back from school, saw an angel. She quickly came to the conclusion she was smoking wet, hastily tossed out her fag and went the long route home to shake it off. It didn't shake off the manifest anomalies that persisted after her trip. Fearing the reaction of the formidable Meemaw, Abigail packed what she could into a backpack and hit the road. She knew of one man - her mother's brother, one of those doomsday survivalist sorts, a veteran from Iraq with enough money to build himself a bomb shelter. Out of all the degenerate profligates she knew, he'd be the one who might just be crazy enough to help her. It didn't help matters that all she had was a name and an old facebook photo to go by.
Skills/Flaws:
+ White Trash Encyclopedia: Well-versed in a vast array of little helpful tidbits ranging from repairs to pest control to lockpicking to varmint snares to shotgunning (sodas, of course!) to couponing. In other words, she's a bit of a jack of all trades, but only has a very minor knowledge in these things.
+ Macguyver: Living in a low-income and transient lifestyle has pushed Abigail to become resourceful. Anything's a weapon or a tool if you think hard enough, and Abi's trusty roll of duct tape helps to facilitate the process.
+ Jogger Junkie: Abigail's favourite sport is running. She enjoys her 8k morning jogs, her relay races, her marathons. She's fast on her feet and doesn't tire out easily.
- Child: She's fifteen. This should be self explanatory, but it means she's not very strong, not very mature, not taken seriously, not allowed to drink, smoke or drive, can't have a job and should be in school - to say the least. On top of all the human repercussions of being on this earth less than her adult counterparts, it also means her spellcraft is erratic and hard to control. She doesn't know all the spells she can cast and the ones she can cast aren't that strong yet. Magic is also more exhausting to use.
- Dumb Sombitch: Whilst gifted with a keen gut instinct and the gift of vibe-reading, Abigail's not all that smart; partially due to her age and partially due to her upbringing. She's especially vulnerable to Mind magic because of this.
- Amber Alert: It's one thing if an adult goes off-grid, it's another if a child winds up missing. Even trailer park inhabitants look after their young. She's on missing posters and the news in and around the Arizona area.
Spell List:
Pick-me-up (Change): A minor healing spell, capable of fixing first degree burns, scrapes, bruises and lacerations.
Telekinesis (World): Manipulation of a/some small object(s)'s gravitational pull.
Astral Projection (Underworld): When sleeping, Abigail's spirit has the possibility to split from her body and towards a location of importance where she can see, hear, but cannot interact, with the objects around it. Her spirit can be detected as magic and controlled by adept mages. She has little to no control over where she ends up (dependent on GM) or when it happens. She cannot be wakened until her soul returns to her body, which inevitably occurs after 10 minutes unless it is trapped or controlled.
Physical Description: Miles Honeywell stands at 5"10, lithely and powerfully built, with shoulders of average width. His skin is fair and largely unblemished apart from the occasional freckle and some minor acne scars on the left side of his jaw. His eyes are blue and unintricate, without deformity nor unusual beauty. His hair is brown, neither dark enough to be remarkable nor light enough to be blonde. His smile is pleasant, but not stunning. His teeth are straight, but not perfect. There is little about him that is particularly memorable - he is no more than another face among billions. Important items: He carries very little of personal importance with him - but for professional purposes; a fake ID (Michael Stafford) with matching 'pocket litter', a Glock 18 chambered in 9mm with a detachable short suppressor, three cheap Bic branded lighters, a pair of glasses with dark wire frames.
Short Bio:
Miles Honeywell was born in Hackney, London, to a single mother in a year of strife. His family was poor, his community was poor, and the country was fucked. The homeless were on the verge of having a population size that could legitimately give them a member of Parliament, there were fires destroying urban housing blocks in the City with all their inhabitants trapped inside, and a group of especially indecisive traitors were governing it all.
Miles hated them. He hated them so much.
In his childhood he was no fan nor friend of the government, and by extension he *loathed* their grunts and enforcers in blue. They would come into his neighbourhood and drag adults and kids alike off, packing them into their vans and disappearing them. Some of them came back, beaten and broken and traumatised - but many didn’t at all. He was stopped and searched for no reason so regularly that he could practically tell the time by it, and his little sister - two years his junior - got it worse.
Gangs started entering his life when he was 13. Properly entering his life, I mean. They weren’t just a set piece any more, a group of shady folk you learned to recognise and avoid, but with whom you had no interaction. Instead they put him to work running cash and messages between one and the other, like a miniature courier with a burner phone. Honestly, the work paid decently - especially for a kid - and he was smart enough to not get caught more than once with anything important on him. The one time he did was unpleasant, but hey, they didn’t break any bones.
Eventually the gangs started to evolve, though. When they were mostly just pitted against eachother they had a tendency to be small and insignificant organisations - but when the premier selection pressure evolved from competition with other gangs for territory and resources to pressure directly from riot police, then the gangs themselves started to adapt in response. The smaller gangs either joined larger ones, disbanded, or were crushed, and the larger gangs either formed alliances or were encircled and absorbed by ones that did. Things were gearing up for all out war in the community when Miles was 15, and he wisely chose to avoid it. He couldn’t quite remain impartial, and he still had to be friendly enough with everyone that they’d leave his little sister alone, but he didn’t want to get stabbed over this shit.
But then he got stabbed anyway. The whole process of trying to remain out of the conflict failed him utterly, and it was only because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He was walking home from hanging out with a couple of mates - nobodies who weren’t going anywhere - when two guys threw eachother out of a pub and onto Miles. They were members of the same gang who both suspected the other of being an undercover cop, and they’d tried to settle it with a pint before one of them drew a knife. That knife ended up about two centimetres from the biggest artery in the human body, inside Miles, purely by bad luck. He got lucky enough that he didn’t pass out from shock, and was able to phone for an ambulance - it was a similar matter of luck that nobody decided to mug the paramedics when they picked him up. The two men responsible continued their fight elsewhere, not even realising how close they’d come to killing a kid.
That was the moment it became clear that no matter how bad the situation was with the state, and no matter how bad the cops were to people like him, he wasn’t better off by isolating himself like this. His mum and sister came to visit him in the hospital and he told them plainly that they needed to move.
“We don’t have enough money.” His mum’s reply came.
“I don’t care, we have to.” He said in turn.
But then, from the recesses of that dark conversation, there came a sort of light - and an unexpected visitor.
Detective Sergeant Jonathan Hayes, specifically. He was a tall, proud looking man, with hair that was clearly going grey long before it was due to, and a wry smile that made it clear he knew more than you wanted him to. DS Hayes was exactly the kind of cop that liked putting young men like Miles in positions where they felt powerless, for the exact reason that it made him feel powerful in turn. He was by no means an admirable man - and indeed, Miles did not mourn him when he died five years later, even if he owed him that much - but for once DS Hayes was coming with good news, and a deal.
The law had been changed recently, and the changes made could make both of the gangers who’d gotten Miles stabbed equally culpable for his wound - which in turn, under new, liberal interpretations of ‘attempted’, could be called attempted murder. If Miles was willing to testify, he could put two of the local firm’s biggest hitters away for life, and start a cascade inside the gang that would lead to their collapse when the police moved in; and in return, DS Hayes would see about turning over some witness protection funding so that the family could rent a new place in a better neighbourhood, where their faces weren’t known and the local lowlifes knew better than to do things high-profile.
It was so perfect, it could have been a set up. Hell, it might have been a set up.
Didn’t matter. Getting stabbed and turning snitch once isn’t that bad of a price to pay, all things considered.
When the government he hated so much was taken down in the general election the year after that, things got even better. Some of the benefits they’d had taken away before were restored, and back-payments were made. His family were in a more stable situation than they’d ever been in his life, and out of both a newfound patriotism and a lack of other options for education or training, Miles made the admittedly questionable decision to join the army when he turned 16.
After two years of training - with deployment still being unlawful for the underaged - with the Royal Anglian Regiment, he was eventually deployed overseas to a peacekeeping operation in the Middle East. He served one tour with distinction, rising to the rank of Lance Corporal quickly in recognition of intelligence and calm under fire from insurgent forces, before being called home.
He met his mother and his little sister in the airport. They went for a burger king. It was nice - it was really nice to see them again.
He was in the toilets at the burger king, washing his hands, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Lance Corporal Honeywell.”
There’s a strange kind of feeling on the back of your neck that you get when you think you might be in danger, but aren’t quite sure about it yet. This man’s voice was like warm steel, not awful to hear, but with the kind of authority that you don’t simply ignore.
“Yeah?” He turned. The man in front of his was about two inches shorter than he was, with blonde hair, brown eyes, and a clean shaved square jawed face. He was wearing jeans and a plain green hoodie, and looked a little overweight. Not like a spy.
“My name is Jacob Barter. I work for Her Majesty’s Secret Intelligence Service. Your actions on tour have been noted as exemplary, and based on some of your personal history, we would be interested in speaking to you about employment in the national interest.”
“I- I’m sorry mate, I beg your pardon?”
“I work for the SIS. I’m offering you training - and a job - as an Intelligence Officer.”
It was the start of a long and proud career. He was a natural, picking up the skills and the characteristics of an Intelligence Officer - and in turn, whoever that Intelligence Officer needed to become - quickly. They have him a new name, Michael Stafford, with which he was referenced both in official documentation and in person. They reshaped him, rebuilt him, remade him into the eyes, ears, and hands of the State. In some ways Miles Honeywell vanished completely, disappearing beneath the waves of ink and red tape as he learnt to become other people, transforming into the Grey Little Man. When he wanted to be, he was invisible. When he needed to be, he was attractive. When he was ordered to be, he was lethal.
With his new colleagues, he built and functioned within a colossal spider’s web. Michael Stafford was more than a pair of eyes in one place, he was the synapse between a single mind and a thousand eyes.
As far as his family knew, he was doing well as an infantryman. He just had an irregular schedule of tours.
Then they sent him to America. He was a liaison agent working with the CIA when the New World dawned on them and his own abilities awoke, and his own Angel (of sorts) appeared to him as just another, if palpably different intelligence officer in a conservative suit. No flowing robes, no big lights or golden halo. It had been just as the orders came in to start rounding up suspected Mages, literally as he'd been reading them out to the rest of his team. The Angel had given him some quite specific instructions on how to leave the building without arousing suspicion; it probably bought him a whole hour before they started looking, and another couple hours before they figured it out.
Good thing both Michael and Miles have experience in running from the government.
Skills/Flaws:
Skills
A Focused Mind - Miles is an intelligent, insightful, perceptive man. He picks up on the fine details both in his environment and in other people, and learns very quickly, being highly adaptive and attentive at all times.
The Changing Face - Miles is an expert in dealing with people, both when they're aware of him and talking to him, and when they have yet to realise he even exists. His understanding of psychology and emotional cues is acutely tuned and extremely adept, his use of verbal and physical language is so trained it is genuinely natural, and his ability to manipulate, lie, charm, and more in order to disguise himself or achieve an end is truly remarkable.
Flaws
The Unperson - Miles is one of these unfortunate individuals who, having become so used to changing his act and being more act than not, finds it disproportionately hard to actually change as a person. He's a fantastic learner, but actually changing himself for the better and becoming a better person simply doesn't come to him any more - after all, why bother really changing when you could just lie? Worse still, he does it subconsciously. It's in doubt whether or not he could learn from his personal mistakes if he even tried.
Sleepless Nights - It's a spy's job to be paranoid. You have to think sixteen steps ahead of eight different players, some of whom are your friends and don't want you dead, some of whom aren't your friends and do. You hear about your colleague, whose home was broken into the other night. You hear about people's families being followed home by foreign agents, kidnapped, and exorted for information. You hear about people watching your relatives and you can't be sure whose people they really are. Eventually it gets to you. You start sticking cameras up in your home, putting another lock in your door, hiding discreet weapons where you might need them, and losing sleep. It's the sleep loss that really gets him. He can't get more than three solid hours a night.
Spell List:
[Mind] [ Alter Memory ] - This ability allows the user to explore and re-narrate parts of their subject(s)'s memories, stripping the old ones and absorbing them, reworking them into new material, and painting over the top of the new space.
[Mind] [ Alter Perception ] - This ability allows the user to either dial down the other peoples' perceptions of them until they are functionally invisible, or increase their perceptions until more and more attention is drawn towards them. Whilst 'invisible' others around the user will still make attempts to find paths around the user if they're in their way. It affects the other peoples' entire perceptions, not simply sight, and can be used for illusory purposes as well as stealth purposes.
[Timespace] [ Quantum Leap ] - The User - or a particular object roughly their size or less - exists twice at once for a brief moment, and is thus teleported to either a location within reasonable line of sight, or to a place they can recall from memory in detail. This effect does not entail a somatic component or any trail between the two places jumped between, nor is there any disruption in those things that lie in their path.
[Change] [ Reshape Flesh ] - At its most basic this spell is normally used to heal yourself, or to heal your teammates, commanding the flesh to take upon its natural shape once more, this spell does have other uses - in especially discreet murder for example. It also has the potential to reshape the body in more beneficial ways - but this requires a specific knowledge of what you're doing, beyond simply 'restore' or 'destroy'.
[World] [ Lightwarp ] - For when a simple illusion won't do. This spell involves the transferal of photons from one side of the body directly to the other, without hindrance. This renders the body protected by the spell totally invisible. This one *will* affect cameras. In theory, this can also be used to manipulate light on a larger scale, blocking, altering, or magnifying its passage at the user's command.
[World] - [ Mindspark ] - Involving the conscious manipulation of the natural charges and currents of the world, this power allows the user active control over the flow and charge of electrical currents and potential differences. At its most basic level this involves the conductance, direction, and creation of bolts of electricity, as well as permitting absorption and redirection of current directed at the caster - for instance from a taser or electric fence. When combined with the bizarre quirks of Timespace magic - such as the effects of Quantum Leap - this allows for a greater degree of control when it comes to the domain of electronically stored information.
Name: Zephyr Tremblett Age: 25 Physical Description: Zephyr stands at 6 feet tall and weighs 200 pounds
Important items: The only item Zephyr travels with is his smartphone and the charger
Short Bio: Zephyr was just an average guy before he had his vision. He got slightly above average grades in school, went to a nice university and got a well paying job at a tech firm where he could work from home. Then one day a few years back as he was getting home from a work meeting he saw something strange above his house. It looked like a bird but he knew there was something off about it, and upon closer inspection it looked like a person with wings. Then he heard the message in his head, about how the world was rotten and he was tasked to fix it. Surely there had to be better suitors, but there was no arguing. The voice and thing above his house were gone, and he felt a surge of power come to him.
Zephyr could barely get inside before collapsing from the overwhelming force inside him. Zephyr passed out and had a strange dream where he figured out what was happening. He had been blessed with magic of a sort, there were many different kinds of magic that he could learn. Being someone who wanted to learn many things he picked up all the schools except Underworld. Even in a world of magic, the magic of the dead felt too unnatural for Zephyr to be comfortable.
The next day Zephyr began training his powers, luckily for him he had figured out how to automate his job and was keeping that his little secret. He trained for two years, trying to perfect what spells he had chosen for himself, waiting for another sign, and that sign came in the form of a letter.
Skills/Flaws: Flaw-Emotional Suppression-Zephyr isn't great at expressing himself, and he generally has two emotional states. Apathetic with a general go with the flow attitude, and rage monster. When Zephyr allows his rage to show he is very likely to hurt someone, with his new powers he may even kill
Skill-Computers-Zephyr is good with code and general computer things. He once hacked in to his schools database and changed his friends grades to make sure they passed....maybe more than once.
Skill-Spatial Awareness-Zephyr has trained himself to take in all the features of a place when he gets there to assist with his teleportation power
Flaw-Selfish-Zephyr tries to do the right thing when it's easy and doesn't inconvenience him too much. But if it's something he doesn't want to do, Zephyr will generally just forget it even exists.
Spell List: Create Sword and Shield (High)-Zephyr creates a sword and shield out of mana that takes on a turquoise colour. He can change the size and shape of these items such as making the shield cover a larger area or extending the length of the sword to surprise an enemy that thinks they're out of range.
Create Holograms (World)-Zephyr can manipulate light to create holograms that look lifelike but have no true physical form. The more holograms Zephyr makes the harder it is to maintain them. The exception being if the holograms are just imitating something nearby, like himself.
Read Intent (Mind)-Zephyr can look at someone and tell what they intend to do in the situation they're in. Whether it be they intend to lie, retreat, or even how they intend to fight.
Teleport (Timespace)-Zephyr can teleport to anywhere within eyeshot, though the further the distance the less accurately he can place himself. He can also teleport short distances to areas he can't see, though this poses a risk of him ending up in a wall or something similar.
Increase Physical Prowess (Change)-An ability that is always in effect, this increases Zephyrs strength, durability, and endurance beyond that of a normal human.
Manipulate Emotions (Mind)-Zephyr can manipulate the emotions of an individual or a small group. This is usually used to try and calm people down, but he can make people feel joy, sadness, anger, or any other emotion.
