This sounds like a curious concept and I'm certainly interested in throwing my hat in this experiment. I look forward to hearing more of the setting so I can tailor something to suit it.
As for what preference for setting I hold I'm quite good with both Supers and Fantasy. There's a lot you can do with either to shake up the formula either way.
Cold. It was cold and dark. Just the cold and the blank curtain of nothing surrounding him. Adrift in the liquid abyss, frigid and placid. He felt numb. The cold had sapped him of all warmth but there was comfort to be had in willingly casting off the bandaid of room-temperature equilibrium and just embracing the cold. So he laid, sailing the abyssopelagic depths of his empty mind, only tangentially conscious of what he was doing.
"Get up."
The soft yet sharp feminine voice cut through his mind, rousing him with a start. With a sudden surge he sat up from beneath the pool of water which laid contained within his bath tub. The ice cubes, stirred by the motion, swam about as they started to gather at the intersection between the water and Edgar's torso. The brackish water dripped back off his torso into the brownish grimy water, stained by the filth of his very being. He gripped the edge of the rusted bowl of discolored white metal he called a tub and slowly lifted his frigid form out of the soupy brine.
Stepping from the filthy tub he set foot on the bathroom floor which had last been cleaned days before he rented the apartment some two years ago. Across from him standing in the doorway to the bathroom was the human form of his sister, her feet hovering a good couple of feet from the slovenly trough of a floor littered with many varieties of garbage. Her dress danced in ethereal air, keeping away from the mess of the floor as though repelled by a magnetic force exuded by his trash.
_ "Seriously, If you didn't have me around you'd never get to work on time." She admonished him, arms crossed as she leaned on some unseen structure. With a wave of her finger she slung the stained old towel hanging on the nearby rack into Ed with her telekinetic ghost powers. The towel splatted out covering most of him, face included, with the musty old thing.
"Clean up and get dressed. It's boring waiting for you to get done with your daily morning ice bath."
Ed pulled the towel down off his face, casting a glare at his sister as he started to dry the frigid moisture off himself. Not bothering to voice any complaint he simply dried off and started off into the main room, navigating through the rough foot path set inbetween towers of old pizza boxes, discarded ramen noodle bags and macaroni & cheese boxes which filled the one room apartment. The carpet which the landlord had installed because he was too cheap to afford decent hardwood flooring for this cheap dive crunched beneath Ed's feet, the fibers of the fetid mat containing enough crumbs to feed someone for a month if the rampant bacteria from the rotting food didn't kill them first. Luckily it was of little concern for the many roaches which called his garbage heap home.
Over on the couch laid his work clothes, stained with filth from other people's trash. Since the last of this apartment's washing machines stopped working and the landlord has yet to have them fixed he, like many others in this apartment, hasn't been able to run his laundry through for three weeks now. It hadn't bothered too many residents since not only was this apartment located in the slums of Fairmouth City. Being a major draw for people both mundie and enscribed alike it meant the rent pretty much across the board was practically an arm and a leg. Even this heap of dilapidated housing wasn't cheap. For the nearly everything it lacked it made up for in being close to work. While everyone else was taking their shot and trying to make it big this little slice of the city belonged to the slum lords and those clinging on by the skin of their teeth. Ed clung on not out of ambition however. He did all this purely because his sister insisted that this city was it. Whatever that meant.
_ He got dressed up for work, chewing down a block of dry ramen noodles for breakfast before rinsing his mouth out with a bottle of mouthwash and setting out for work. The elevator wasn't working so he had to take the stairs down. Half the lights in the hall didn't work and the walls in the stairway were riddled with crude graffiti. Not even the talented stuff, just some basic gang signs and the kind of stuff you'd see written in a scummy washroom stall. Stepping gingerly around the fat homeless guy that was passed out at the base of the stairs he eventually made his way outside, the bustle and noise of constant traffic greeting him as sure as the morning sun itself.
So he waited at the bus stop, hands in his pockets as he looked at oncoming traffic wondering how late the bus was going to be this time. It was pretty much a guarantee that this bus was going to be late on any given day. As his eyes started to wander however they fell upon a peculiar sight. In the alleyway behind a dumpster were what appeared to be three kids, none older than twelve from the looks of it. It was hard to tell however since they were wearing goat heads over their... Well, heads.
Painted on the wall in some kind of dark red stuff that really kinda looked like blood was a pentagram. Above it and below it were written the words In Hell We Trust in the same stuff the pentagram was drawn in. Come to think of it as he examined the scene from afar the goat heads those kids wore looked very realistic, kinda like they could have belonged to a real goat. Almost as if in response to Ed's staring the kids stared back at him, their eyes unseen in the dark confines of their strange goat heads.
"I swear this world's getting crazier by the day." He muttered to himself, looking away from the kids and turning his attention back to traffic. With that the kids calmly left.
"Yeesh, you REALLY are dull." The voice of his sister spoke, sounding as though she were right behind him. He knew better however. This wasn't real. It was simply in his head.
"What tipped you off?" He gruffly answered back without bothering to try and face her since it didn't matter which direction he was facing.
"I mean, knowing you for pretty much your entire life for one. Seriously though, you see some spooky occult action and your answer is to just ignore it?"
"What was I supposed to do? Charge in, punch some kid, hold 'em up by the collar and demand they tell me what the hell's going on?"
"Tsk. Always the dull witted approach with you. At the very least you could have shown some curiosity. I swear if I ever left you your personality would collapse in on itself in a black hole of suck."
Ed had little time to humor Violet's critical wordplay for the bus had arrived. Wordlessly he swiped his pass along the scanner and shuffled on over to the back. Pretty much everything else went as expected for a day of work for him. He got to the dump, clocked in, got aboard a dump truck and set back out into the city to take out some trash. He didn't much care for trash but work was work. He rarely fell back upon his epithet to make things faster, opting to do things the old fashioned way and throw the trash bags onto the truck by hand. Perhaps it was because of his tendency to not try and one-up his co-workers, be they mundie or otherwise, or because he just generally didn't give a damn about how effective he was at his job but he rarely felt justified in using his epithet to assist in his work despite how his epithet was literally half of his job title. He was a Trash Man. Still, he was not one to take the easy approach despite his non-committal feelings towards the whole business.
And so his day went on, eventually finding him behind the QUICK FOODS store right next to the Gable Clinic. Rather than simply having the truck hoist the big metal dumpster over and dump it into the truck he dug through the contents first. This place, much like any restaurant or food service establishment, would throw out any leftover product that would begin to get stale and old. For a guy on a budget like him the stuff they threw away was basically free food. Luckily for him this neighborhood was a bit more upscale than the slums meaning less competition for the best picks out of the dumpster.
Standing at the side of this dumpster he took a bite out of an old scone they threw out last night. Just Ed enjoying some lunch out in the back alley.
He is the master of anything worthless, useless or discarded. Basically anything that qualifies as rubbish or junk.
Abilities:
Trash-o-kinesis: He can move and manipulate trash with his mind. Larger trash requires more effort of course and exerting more force using said trash exerts him further still. The further away trash is from him the weaker his control over it is.
Trash Man: He is a trash man as a career, as a metaphorical state of being and in some cases a literal state of being. If he is ever wounded he can mend himself either by joining trash to the wound, physically bonding with the material as it becomes one with him, or by eating it. When eaten the trash will be broken down and transmitted through his body to the area of the internal injury where it will then bond together the injured portion, taking over the cell's roles as it merges with him. Even materials which are considered inedible can be eaten since his epithet breaks it down for him as he chews. Whether he likes it or not he will become trash sooner or later.
Trash Sense: He can detect trash within an approximate radius of three kilometers around him. This lets him know not only where trash is but what it is down to fine details. This does not allow him to know of any details not directly tied to the trash itself such as the appearance of it's location, only where it is and what it is.
Weapons:
If it comes down to combat and Edgar actually feels like fighting for a change then any surrounding trash can become his improvised weapon. Otherwise he'll just be out of luck since he doesn't carry weapons on him since he tends to travel light.
Description:
Standing around six feet even this guy is physically only just slightly above average for his height and age group. He's got modestly broad shoulders and a slight bit of tone to his muscles due to the manual labour aspect of his job. His skin is generally fairly pale since outside of work he only occasionally goes out. While his face is more narrow than broad he's got a decently strong jawline. The only thing darker than his eyes is his jet black hair which comes down straight like uncooked spaghetti to his shoulders. He is neither handsome nor hideous, just sort of plain overall. It is however colored by his lack of sleep and generally miserable disposition. The dark rings under his eyelids, the way he hunches forward all the time like he's carrying some unseen weight upon himself, the way his feet just sort of drag about rather than walk with any sort of animation, it all shapes the mold of some downtrodden schlub who looks as though he's already collapsed but his body just forgot to fall. On the job he wears the garbage man's uniform: A dull grey jumpsuit with the city logo emblazoned upon a patch on the upper chest. Off duty he just tends to wear whatever he has laying around, black logoless t-shirts and grey cargo pants. While at work he'll have brown heavy steel-toed boots. Any other time he'll just wear his ratty worn-out grey sneakers he's held onto for way too long.
Personality:
Edgar's a trash man in every sense of the word.
He's taciturn, morose, unambitious, defeatist and a real buzz-kill to boot. Out of everyone who dislikes him Edgar is at the top of the list, loathing himself more than anyone else could muster. Being the mule that carries the burdens of his family and more specifically his specter of a sister he only really cherishes the brief moments where he's truly alone, or at least when he thinks he is. He sees the world as a cold dark ball covered in apes duking it out to stand on the biggest hoard. To aspire to anything is really just a waste in the unflinching march of time, all things both treasured and not eventually becoming trash in the fullness of time, at least as far as he's concerned. Even as pathetic as he may be he'll still fight back if pushed, an ingrained part of his psyche that keeps him from giving up even when he really wants to. If there is only one thing Edgar stands by in life however it's the lesson his parents bored into his psyche: Family comes before all. Despite anything else, no matter the reason, he will always remain faithful to his family... Even his sister.
Skills:
He's actually fairly well read with a decent vocabulary. Not something that shows readily all other things considered.
Weaknesses:
He's a miserable sod with fairly few skills and little to no ambition who's haunted by a mercurial specter that often tilts the scales against him because it's usually funnier when he fails.
Brief History:
There was a brief before his kindergarten years when Edgar was a happy and hopeful little thing. That quickly got taken care of when he started kindergarten and quickly found nobody liked him. Children are more often cruel than not after all.
What really kicked the misery train into overdrive was when his sister first learned her epithet. It wasn't long after him but unlike him who could only really use it to cause messes she changed significantly after shedding her physical form and taking residence inside his mind. While at first she was largely just concerned with experiencing the world as a ghost, seeing and doing things she couldn't before as a physical being, after a while life as a carefree spirit was starting to bore her. Something that never bored her however was tormenting him. No matter how many times she caused trouble for him seeing him fail and suffer for it never failed to amuse her. He was perfect, the kind of person who would always put up some token resistance while still cooperating like the broken mule he was to her. No matter how hard she pushed him however he never broke, never all the way. Perhaps it was the fact that much like his epithet he was never too slighted by being treated like the trash he is. He still never simply gave in despite it. That last grain of his nature that he carried through his entire childhood refused to die in the broken heaps of his dead hopes and dreams.
Come adulthood he was naturally pushed into taking up a job as a trash man. He didn't like the job but he was used to being given choices he just had to put up with. He lacked any other ambitions and couldn't find any real excuse not to despite lacking any joy or fulfillment from the work. In the end he just swallowed the fact that this was just going to be his life from now on. Just him and countless heaps of trash...
And his sister of course.
Other: Presently empty.
&
Full Name: Violet Dolone
Age: 22.
Gender: Female.
Epithet: Phantasm.
On top of being a proper phantom she presides over all matters spectral. Aside from all that she also holds power over illusions, able to wield the senses and one's own imagination against them.
Abilities:
Fantastic Phantasm: Her most notable trait is her spectral state which she maintains on a nigh constant basis. She is completely intangible in this state, having more in common with a self-willed imaginary friend than with anything else in the real world. In this form she can float in any direction at a fairly quick rate. Her speed has an upper cap since despite not being wholly real she still feels the strains of exertion when acting through her epithet. Like a ghost she can possess objects or even people. She can float around as a non-living item however she cannot alter it's shape without acting upon it through a physical medium. Possessing other people is a dangerous game since whilst in their mind a person can struggle and resist her control or even eject her with enough effort. It comes down to a battle of wills which still exhausts her energy despite not wholly real since it's an exertion of her epithet. While in her phantom state there is nothing that prevents her from taking any form she so chooses. From the realistic to the wholly fantastical she has almost no barriers on the forms she can assume. She doesn't take the form of things that are too massive since once again use of her epithet still takes energy even as a specter. Like a ghost her visibility is largely up to her. She often goes completely invisible and perfectly silent since she occupies no physical space. Lastly she can retain her form set as a phantom when she becomes physical. Naturally her form has to be something that can actually live so certain features remain necessary despite the shape such as a heart, lungs, muscles, ect. The more powerful this form is the more effort it is to render physically so restraint in design is often warranted when doing this. Still, the freedom to assume whatever physical form she adopts as a phantom makes her not one to take lightly.
Phantom Menace: As a ghost she has the power to manipulate items like one. From rattling chandeliers and flipping books open to hurling pots and lifting chairs off the ground she possesses the full range of a specter's telekinesis. The amount of effort exerted upon her phantasmal form is of course relatively proportionate to the size of the item she's manipulating and the amount of force she's exerting through it.
Unusual Apparition: On top of having the powers of a ghost she can also generate illusory apparitions as well. Toying with the human experience of reality she can make illusions that are able to play off of all five senses at once. Of course the less senses her illusions incorporate the less effort it takes her to create it. Her illusions only appear before their intended subject since they are created by manipulating an individual's perception.
Weapons: Her physical form can be weapon enough if she so chooses.
Description:
She can appear as anything she wants to be but there are a few traits she'll default to on a normative basis.
When she wants to come off as human she'll appear just a couple inches under Edgar's height. Her skin will be a pure ghostly white and her long impeccably straight hair will be a gentle light lilac color. Her hair reaches all the way down her back and seems to defy gravity, always floating in a ghostly manner as it's very rarely under the reign of gravity. Her body most commonly has a slender hourglass figure in this form, a tastefully exemplar form of femininity from her head to her toes. Her face is no exception, a softly pointed face with delicate features and piercing violet eyes, the kind of face models aspire to yet fall ever short of. While it is a form most anyone would be envious of it's not her most common form.
Her most common form, the form she rests in when she sleeps in the comforting cradle of Edgar's sleeping consciousness, is much closer to her true nature. While the hair and height remains the same she eschews the legs entirely, the body trailing off into a wispy evanescent tail. Her upper body is smoothed over like a stalk and while her face is similar to her human one she's eschewed the need for teeth a while ago. Her mouth is just a line which zig-zags across her jaw in a predatory smile like the maw of a wicked jack-o-lantern. Her arms are similarly slender to her human form's but the hands are larger and splits into five long slender claws, each one as long as Edgar's forearm. The claws are smooth all the way down to the tip like a baby dolphin's skin, each claw ending at a tip as fine as a broken glass's edge. Each claw of hers bend like the bodies of snakes, twisting and wrapping around things in a slithery manner, at least that's how they appear to be. She rarely handles anything physically and the times that demand she do will see her use far more monstrous forms than even this.
Personality:
As a spirit she's as mischievous as they come. Having abandoned her life as a physical human being long ago she's fully embraced her existence as a phantom. She watches the silly struggles of the foolish mortals, amusing herself at their expense. Having lived her whole life free of consequence for the most part she's grown wholly absorbed in her own entertainment.
And none offer her more amusement than the pathetic struggles of her dear sweet brother Edgar. He is both a cradle and a toy to her. She derives constant mirth from his misery and is confident in his resilience since he is also her home, his head a safe place for her to curl up and recuperate her strength.
She loves drama and sees the lives around her as a great theater set up to entertain her with the unfolding story of it's many characters. Of course a story without it's inciting incidents would be dull so occasionally she has to be proactive and set up some "incidents" for Edgar to get caught up in. This way she can experience the great story of this world unfold through his eyes, constantly pushing him forward and making him act just to see the events that arise from these actions and perhaps even make him an actor within this vast play they call life.
Of course every play has it's intermissions unfortunately. Best he keep her entertained lest she throw the switch and start the show for him.
Skills:
Outside of her epithet the majority of the knowledge she holds is borrowed off Edgar.
Weaknesses:
Her main weaknesses are things that can effect ghosts. Outside of that depriving her of her safe place, that is to say Edgar, would force her to manifest physically in order to recuperate her energy where she would be vulnerable. Those with a strong will are a formidable opposition to her since she can possess those with a will weaker than her own.
Brief History:
When she was born along with her twin brother Edgar she was always a mischievous sort. She loved pranks and was always up to some sort of trouble. A boundless and energetic soul she excelled where Edgar fell flat. Then came the day she learned her epithet. Immediately eager to explore this new power of hers she cast off her physical shackles and went straight to work. She haunted the school, creating trouble for everyone as she reveled in her boundless freedom.
And this went on for some time. The world was her oyster and she took to it in a tornado of enthusiasm. This however lasted only so long. There were only so many times she could pull the wool over everyone's eyes with one of her many genius pranks before the novelty started to wear off. Their reactions at first were priceless but she found the more she subjected others to her brand of whimsy the less passionate their responses became. It was really quite tragic.
Alas she found her perfect victim. After all this time he was right under her nose, her own flesh and blood brother. No matter how many terrible things she subjected him to his suffering never failed to entertain her. Furthermore his mind was the perfect safe space for her to reside in. No one else would keep her, always fighting her out of their mind sooner or later. He had no such resistance however. His mind not only wouldn't reject her but couldn't. Their connection to one another meant no matter how he tried his mind was forever forward her home. A safe space that kept all the bad out and her in.
And thus she remained, entertaining herself at the expense of others for life was just a show for her to enjoy to it's fullest.
I have two submissions for characters I present before you.
(Image Under Construction)
Full Name: Edgar Dolone
Age: 22.
Gender: Male.
Epithet: Trash.
He is the master of anything worthless, useless or discarded. Basically anything that qualifies as rubbish or junk.
Abilities:
Trash-o-kinesis: He can move and manipulate trash with his mind. Larger trash requires more effort of course and exerting more force using said trash exerts him further still. The further away trash is from him the weaker his control over it is.
Trash Man: He is a trash man as a career, as a metaphorical state of being and in some cases a literal state of being. If he is ever wounded he can mend himself either by joining trash to the wound, physically bonding with the material as it becomes one with him, or by eating it. When eaten the trash will be broken down and transmitted through his body to the area of the internal injury where it will then bond together the injured portion, taking over the cell's roles as it merges with him. Even materials which are considered inedible can be eaten since his epithet breaks it down for him as he chews. Whether he likes it or not he will become trash sooner or later.
Trash Sense: He can detect trash within an approximate radius of three kilometers around him. This lets him know not only where trash is but what it is down to fine details. This does not allow him to know of any details not directly tied to the trash itself such as the appearance of it's location, only where it is and what it is.
Weapons:
If it comes down to combat and Edgar actually feels like fighting for a change then any surrounding trash can become his improvised weapon. Otherwise he'll just be out of luck since he doesn't carry weapons on him since he tends to travel light.
Description:
Standing around six feet even this guy is physically only just slightly above average for his height and age group. He's got modestly broad shoulders and a slight bit of tone to his muscles due to the manual labour aspect of his job. His skin is generally fairly pale since outside of work he only occasionally goes out. While his face is more narrow than broad he's got a decently strong jawline. The only thing darker than his eyes is his jet black hair which comes down straight like uncooked spaghetti to his shoulders. He is neither handsome nor hideous, just sort of plain overall. It is however colored by his lack of sleep and generally miserable disposition. The dark rings under his eyelids, the way he hunches forward all the time like he's carrying some unseen weight upon himself, the way his feet just sort of drag about rather than walk with any sort of animation, it all shapes the mold of some downtrodden schlub who looks as though he's already collapsed but his body just forgot to fall. On the job he wears the garbage man's uniform: A dull grey jumpsuit with the city logo emblazoned upon a patch on the upper chest. Off duty he just tends to wear whatever he has laying around, black logoless t-shirts and grey cargo pants. While at work he'll have brown heavy steel-toed boots. Any other time he'll just wear his ratty worn-out grey sneakers he's held onto for way too long.
Personality:
Edgar's a trash man in every sense of the word.
He's taciturn, morose, unambitious, defeatist and a real buzz-kill to boot. Out of everyone who dislikes him Edgar is at the top of the list, loathing himself more than anyone else could muster. Being the mule that carries the burdens of his family and more specifically his specter of a sister he only really cherishes the brief moments where he's truly alone, or at least when he thinks he is. He sees the world as a cold dark ball covered in apes duking it out to stand on the biggest hoard. To aspire to anything is really just a waste in the unflinching march of time, all things both treasured and not eventually becoming trash in the fullness of time, at least as far as he's concerned. Even as pathetic as he may be he'll still fight back if pushed, an ingrained part of his psyche that keeps him from giving up even when he really wants to. If there is only one thing Edgar stands by in life however it's the lesson his parents bored into his psyche: Family comes before all. Despite anything else, no matter the reason, he will always remain faithful to his family... Even his sister.
Skills:
He's actually fairly well read with a decent vocabulary. Not something that shows readily all other things considered.
Weaknesses:
He's a miserable sod with fairly few skills and little to no ambition who's haunted by a mercurial specter that often tilts the scales against him because it's usually funnier when he fails.
Brief History:
There was a brief before his kindergarten years when Edgar was a happy and hopeful little thing. That quickly got taken care of when he started kindergarten and quickly found nobody liked him. Children are more often cruel than not after all.
What really kicked the misery train into overdrive was when his sister first learned her epithet. It wasn't long after him but unlike him who could only really use it to cause messes she changed significantly after shedding her physical form and taking residence inside his mind. While at first she was largely just concerned with experiencing the world as a ghost, seeing and doing things she couldn't before as a physical being, after a while life as a carefree spirit was starting to bore her. Something that never bored her however was tormenting him. No matter how many times she caused trouble for him seeing him fail and suffer for it never failed to amuse her. He was perfect, the kind of person who would always put up some token resistance while still cooperating like the broken mule he was to her. No matter how hard she pushed him however he never broke, never all the way. Perhaps it was the fact that much like his epithet he was never too slighted by being treated like the trash he is. He still never simply gave in despite it. That last grain of his nature that he carried through his entire childhood refused to die in the broken heaps of his dead hopes and dreams.
Come adulthood he was naturally pushed into taking up a job as a trash man. He didn't like the job but he was used to being given choices he just had to put up with. He lacked any other ambitions and couldn't find any real excuse not to despite lacking any joy or fulfillment from the work. In the end he just swallowed the fact that this was just going to be his life from now on. Just him and countless heaps of trash...
And his sister of course.
Other: Presently empty.
&
Full Name: Violet Dolone
Age: 22.
Gender: Female.
Epithet: Phantasm.
On top of being a proper phantom she presides over all matters spectral. Aside from all that she also holds power over illusions, able to wield the senses and one's own imagination against them.
Abilities:
Fantastic Phantasm: Her most notable trait is her spectral state which she maintains on a nigh constant basis. She is completely intangible in this state, having more in common with a self-willed imaginary friend than with anything else in the real world. In this form she can float in any direction at a fairly quick rate. Her speed has an upper cap since despite not being wholly real she still feels the strains of exertion when acting through her epithet. Like a ghost she can possess objects or even people. She can float around as a non-living item however she cannot alter it's shape without acting upon it through a physical medium. Possessing other people is a dangerous game since whilst in their mind a person can struggle and resist her control or even eject her with enough effort. It comes down to a battle of wills which still exhausts her energy despite not wholly real since it's an exertion of her epithet. While in her phantom state there is nothing that prevents her from taking any form she so chooses. From the realistic to the wholly fantastical she has almost no barriers on the forms she can assume. She doesn't take the form of things that are too massive since once again use of her epithet still takes energy even as a specter. Like a ghost her visibility is largely up to her. She often goes completely invisible and perfectly silent since she occupies no physical space. Lastly she can retain her form set as a phantom when she becomes physical. Naturally her form has to be something that can actually live so certain features remain necessary despite the shape such as a heart, lungs, muscles, ect. The more powerful this form is the more effort it is to render physically so restraint in design is often warranted when doing this. Still, the freedom to assume whatever physical form she adopts as a phantom makes her not one to take lightly.
Phantom Menace: As a ghost she has the power to manipulate items like one. From rattling chandeliers and flipping books open to hurling pots and lifting chairs off the ground she possesses the full range of a specter's telekinesis. The amount of effort exerted upon her phantasmal form is of course relatively proportionate to the size of the item she's manipulating and the amount of force she's exerting through it.
Unusual Apparition: On top of having the powers of a ghost she can also generate illusory apparitions as well. Toying with the human experience of reality she can make illusions that are able to play off of all five senses at once. Of course the less senses her illusions incorporate the less effort it takes her to create it. Her illusions only appear before their intended subject since they are created by manipulating an individual's perception.
Weapons: Her physical form can be weapon enough if she so chooses.
Description:
She can appear as anything she wants to be but there are a few traits she'll default to on a normative basis.
When she wants to come off as human she'll appear just a couple inches under Edgar's height. Her skin will be a pure ghostly white and her long impeccably straight hair will be a gentle light lilac color. Her hair reaches all the way down her back and seems to defy gravity, always floating in a ghostly manner as it's very rarely under the reign of gravity. Her body most commonly has a slender hourglass figure in this form, a tastefully exemplar form of femininity from her head to her toes. Her face is no exception, a softly pointed face with delicate features and piercing violet eyes, the kind of face models aspire to yet fall ever short of. While it is a form most anyone would be envious of it's not her most common form.
Her most common form, the form she rests in when she sleeps in the comforting cradle of Edgar's sleeping consciousness, is much closer to her true nature. While the hair and height remains the same she eschews the legs entirely, the body trailing off into a wispy evanescent tail. Her upper body is smoothed over like a stalk and while her face is similar to her human one she's eschewed the need for teeth a while ago. Her mouth is just a line which zig-zags across her jaw in a predatory smile like the maw of a wicked jack-o-lantern. Her arms are similarly slender to her human form's but the hands are larger and splits into five long slender claws, each one as long as Edgar's forearm. The claws are smooth all the way down to the tip like a baby dolphin's skin, each claw ending at a tip as fine as a broken glass's edge. Each claw of hers bend like the bodies of snakes, twisting and wrapping around things in a slithery manner, at least that's how they appear to be. She rarely handles anything physically and the times that demand she do will see her use far more monstrous forms than even this.
Personality:
As a spirit she's as mischievous as they come. Having abandoned her life as a physical human being long ago she's fully embraced her existence as a phantom. She watches the silly struggles of the foolish mortals, amusing herself at their expense. Having lived her whole life free of consequence for the most part she's grown wholly absorbed in her own entertainment.
And none offer her more amusement than the pathetic struggles of her dear sweet brother Edgar. He is both a cradle and a toy to her. She derives constant mirth from his misery and is confident in his resilience since he is also her home, his head a safe place for her to curl up and recuperate her strength.
She loves drama and sees the lives around her as a great theater set up to entertain her with the unfolding story of it's many characters. Of course a story without it's inciting incidents would be dull so occasionally she has to be proactive and set up some "incidents" for Edgar to get caught up in. This way she can experience the great story of this world unfold through his eyes, constantly pushing him forward and making him act just to see the events that arise from these actions and perhaps even make him an actor within this vast play they call life.
Of course every play has it's intermissions unfortunately. Best he keep her entertained lest she throw the switch and start the show for him.
Skills:
Outside of her epithet the majority of the knowledge she holds is borrowed off Edgar.
Weaknesses:
Her main weaknesses are things that can effect ghosts. Outside of that depriving her of her safe place, that is to say Edgar, would force her to manifest physically in order to recuperate her energy where she would be vulnerable. Those with a strong will are a formidable opposition to her since she can possess those with a will weaker than her own.
Brief History:
When she was born along with her twin brother Edgar she was always a mischievous sort. She loved pranks and was always up to some sort of trouble. A boundless and energetic soul she excelled where Edgar fell flat. Then came the day she learned her epithet. Immediately eager to explore this new power of hers she cast off her physical shackles and went straight to work. She haunted the school, creating trouble for everyone as she reveled in her boundless freedom.
And this went on for some time. The world was her oyster and she took to it in a tornado of enthusiasm. This however lasted only so long. There were only so many times she could pull the wool over everyone's eyes with one of her many genius pranks before the novelty started to wear off. Their reactions at first were priceless but she found the more she subjected others to her brand of whimsy the less passionate their responses became. It was really quite tragic.
Alas she found her perfect victim. After all this time he was right under her nose, her own flesh and blood brother. No matter how many terrible things she subjected him to his suffering never failed to entertain her. Furthermore his mind was the perfect safe space for her to reside in. No one else would keep her, always fighting her out of their mind sooner or later. He had no such resistance however. His mind not only wouldn't reject her but couldn't. Their connection to one another meant no matter how he tried his mind was forever forward her home. A safe space that kept all the bad out and her in.
And thus she remained, entertaining herself at the expense of others for life was just a show for her to enjoy to it's fullest.
Here's my CS for Babble. I modified the CS Metamore was kind enough to provide and added in some facets of the Anime Campaign document, listing certain stats more as guidelines rather than hard mechanics. A rough approximation of her design as translated out of an rpg context into a forum based free-form RP format.
Name Babble.
Appearance
Build Svelte Build.
Stamina 15.
Proficiency 35
Age 14.
Personality
She's a bag of nuts.
But perhaps that's an oversimplification. To best address what constitutes Babble's personality we'll break it down aspect by aspect.
To start, her power has had an enormous impact on how she interacts with the world. Sound comprises a majority of how she perceives the world and also how she interacts with it. She's pretty much never not using her power over sound in any form of interaction, social or otherwise. This often makes her harder to engage as she often slips back into a outwardly nonsensical train of thought when occupied with sound. It's probably much easier to try and converse with her using non-verbal mediums of communication amusingly enough.
Her disinterest in taking the outside world seriously is also in part due to her childishness. Having had easily more than half of her childhood taken from her while she languished in a padded cell she has a powerful longing to essentially seize back what was stolen from her. Having earned her freedom for now she's largely absorbed with having fun whenever she's not simply trying to survive. Serious matters often devolve into silliness as she has very little interest in embracing negativity. While this might make her seem more optimistic there's no mistaking the scars that her life as the doctor's subject of study has left, both figuratively and literally.
Her humor can range anywhere between lighthearted fun to downright gallows humor but no matter what it is it's bound to be at least a bit surreal. While she's determined to cast off the shackles of concern for her future she's very well aware that what little freedom she holds is paid for in vigilance. Knowing that there are people looking to return her to the living hell that was the facility, her doctor included, she is quite wary and loath to draw the public's eye upon herself. While she might play at innocence her self imposed lifestyle of homelessness is just as much a defense mechanism as it is a desire to embrace the freedom she's lacked for so long.
She largely means well even in times when she's a nuisance. She holds little malice towards others though the prospect of returning to the life which broke her mind scares her which often makes her more erratic than normal. Given her lack of self-esteem she's disassociated herself from her previous identity, only ever going by the alias Babble as though it were the only name she was given. She's gone so far in removing herself from her past self she no longer even refers to the living body that is herself in first person. She identifies herself as the very sound she controls, only really referring to her actual body as a separate person even though she's willing to admit that Babble the sound and Babble the person are linked both mentally and physically. As a result of this she has also vowed never to speak with her natural voice ever again. She wants to be pleasant for people to want to be her friend and her true voice has never done anything but drive others away from her so she only communicates by generating the sounds of voices to communicate with others. Thus, whenever she is speaking it is never her voice and her mouth almost never moves since she has no need for vocal cords to convey her message.
Epithet Sound
Babble controls sound. Every facet of sound, from wavelengths and amplitudes to vibrations and sonic pressure she is intrinsically tied to everything that is sound. She controls it not through any physical medium but through her will. When she hears sound it is not through her ears but rather it is her mind perceiving the waves directly and interpreting them. Because of this all her senses interact with sound, no longer just as an audible medium but a visual and textile experience as well. She feels sound like it's an extension of herself, an ethereal limb that's simultaneously attached and disconnected from her. Unlike her own limbs however there is no instinct for controlling sound. Understanding is something to be earned.
Her limitations are the very limitations of sound itself. Much like how the potency of sound diminishes inversely proportionate to the distance it travels by the cubic magnitude the power she's able to generate deteriorates rapidly the further away from her the target location is. Just like sound itself the thinner the medium she's transmitting her sound through the weaker the effects become. The resistance of the material her sound is traveling through also effects the potency of the sound. The focus and concentration of the sound she generates affects how quickly the power of the said sound diminishes.
Naturally given the complexity of the field she controls it is fiendishly difficult to properly wield her epithet. Only after years of being victim to it's uncontrolled effects was she even able to stop it from prolonging her suffering. Her control is largely limited by her understanding of sound itself which while more in-depth than most people's understanding of sound is still fathomless miles away from her true potential.
Class Babbler.
Talent Tempo. Life tends to operate at it's own pace and Babble is in tune with the beat. With her awareness of sound she follows the rythm of things as they happen around her, meeting that rhythm and eventually stepping it up until life's dancing to her beat and not the other way around. In simpler terms her natural sense of rhythm makes her harder to hit. Past bullets and arrows, around mouse traps and broken glass, through crowds and busy traffic, she can dodge around things with relative ease and grace. If it weren't for all those pesky bones of hers getting in the way she'd be dancing in between droplets of rain during a storm but alas she's had no luck with that quite yet.
Passive
Echolocation - Able to know where all sound is within a certain radius of her. She can map out the shape of all nearby physical objects and creatures based on the sounds bouncing off their frame. She can locate things emitting sound at an even greater radius. Her perception of sound not impeded by solid boundaries like walls since she can also detect vibrations traveling through solid mediums as well as air. As a result of this however her other senses have been dulled. She has a harder time seeing things that have no physical mass but can still be seen like pictures or ghosts. Her sense of smell and taste isn't all that great either. She's also color-blind, only able to see in shades of grey.
All Frequency Reception^10^10 - When it comes to hearing none hear better than Babble. She hears not with her ears but with her mind, picking up all sounds no matter how weak the signal, even picking up wavelengths outside of the human spectrum. This is often more problematic however since without control even low sounds nearby such as the rustling of grass will cause her physical pain. She can't turn this effect off either, needing to use her other abilities to mitigate the negative effects of this passive.
Active/Toggleable
Audio Babble can create and manipulate any sound within her radius of influence. Naturally the more power a sound requires to be generated the more exhausting it is to make. It's easier to modify existing sounds than it is to create new ones but the difference is negligible at the more extreme ranges. The distance between her and the origin of the sound also influences how difficult it is for her to manipulate and/or generate a sound.
Resonance Using finely tuned sound Babble can hone into nearby objects and gradually isolate their resonate frequency. This allows her to isolate the material in question and can generate sonic vibrations within it. In materials that naturally dampen sound or are flexible enough this only goes as far as to cause it to shake around a whole lot. Materials that are brittle or possess a crystalline lattice structure however can be shattered. Things like glass, metal, ice and other crystalline structures are all susceptible given the natural crystalline lattices they form at a molecular level.
Tremolo With this ability Babble turns the focus of the sound's vibrations into the ground itself causing violent shaking of the floor and everything standing or set upon it. Similar to a miniature localized earthquake or a hard rock concert this shakes the ground to the point where everything's falling and even walking proves difficult as the floor continually falls away from the feet with each vibration.
Niente Babble surrounds herself in a blanket of silence, quieting all sounds near her down below a level humans can even perceive. Her hearing dims down to the relative upper proximity of human hearing thanks to this reduction. This allows her to brave the risk of going in places with loud noises without the fear of being blasted by noises several magnitudes beyond the human threshold. This also allows her to get about without making a single sound as all her noise is subsequently drowned by the sound of silence. This is her most common ability and she has it active to varying degrees nearly all the time since it allows her to co-exist with the world and all it's noises.
Bass Cannon Presently Unknown.
More to be discovered...
Background
At the early age of six it was a school day just like many others. She went to school, attended her classes, received her homework and tried to avoid the other students who picked on her often. This day however was not going to be just like every other day of hers.
Just as she was getting ready to head back home to her dreary household a couple of students were up to some horseplay. One of them ended up tossing a book over his shoulder which fell and hit her square in the head. It was at this moment that something in her head was shook loose. In that very instant it was as if the whole world was exploding.
Shoes stepping, phones ringing, people talking, chalk on chalk boards, lockers closing, cars driving, birds singing, hearts beating, she could hear it all. Every sound, even down to the most shallow of frequencies, could be heard at a volume beyond which any other human could ever conceive. Every foot fall was akin to the explosion of a thousand atom bombs, every voice a crashing cacophony of meteoric proportions. It all went well past the point where human ears would simply break as there was no limit imposed on the method she received each sound. If a sound so much as existed by the time it reached her it was heard at the loudest possible volume such a noise could possibly exist at. Of course there was no way to discern each sound from one another. The louder sounds overlapped the quieter ones and blended with each other until it formed an astronomically loud concert of discordant noises.
Of course nobody else could hear this. From the average spectator's point of view the girl was struck across the back of the head by a heavy book and then proceeded to collapse to the ground clutching her head and screaming in agony while writhing about.
Her parents took her to every doctor they could find. Not a single one of them could identify what was wrong. It was hard to find something that wasn't there. In the end the most they could offer was that it might of been psychosomatic, a diagnosis which offered no satisfaction for neither her nor her parents.
It was only when a certain man had overheard of the incident and sought them out did something resembling an answer appear. Invited to his office he told them that the issue was a rare and complex psychological disorder, something which could only be remedied through years of treatment in a specially equipped asylum. He offered them a choice: Keep their daughter and let her suffer uselessly for the rest of her life or hand her over to him where she could be treated and perhaps eventually cured.
Olivia (Her name at the time) could offer no counsel to her parents on the matter. She had been screaming from the pain for so long her voice was gone. All she could do was shiver in pain. In the end they chose to surrender her to the doctor. While it was natural for most decent parents to feel at least some reluctance towards parting with their child in truth she was more burden than joy for them. While their suspicions warned against the choice they couldn't help but yield to the voice of authority in the subject before them.
And so she was taken...
To Redrum Asylum.
On the surface it appeared to be exactly what it says on the tin, a rehabilitation and/or containment center for the mentally ill. They had their fair share of mentally ill there too. These people were treated according to the standard for psychiatric care, at least so it seemed. What the public couldn't see was that the very same building was also designed to contain and study epithet users. Built on a grant from the government the asylum itself was simply a front for them, a means of isolating these strange phenomenons from public view so they could exercise greater leeway in their pursuit for an answer to what makes them tick. The less obvious ones were kept alongside the psychologically unstable while those who were more blatantly different were kept in the subterranean levels, barred from public access. For those stuck amongst the insane it didn't matter what they told others. Who would believe someone who's a patient in an asylum?
Nobody who didn't already know the truth.
The doctor ran tests on these epithet users. The tests were designed to either bring out these hidden powers in those who had trouble manifesting theirs or to observe the phenomenons in captivity. Full brain and body scans were common practice in the asylum. At her first test when she was brought in Olivia had no idea what was in store for her. Due to the purposefully sound proof design of the test chambers her pain had subsided for the most part, only flaring up at the occasional noise from the doctor himself.
When he brought her into the room he had her hooked up to a strange helmet and had several wires stuck onto with pads to measure her body's various responses to the stimuli. At first she was measured as resting rate and it was all normal. It was the only moment of peace she was granted. Then the helmet emitted a quiet tone, the tone growing louder after each phase was documented. Her pleas for them to stop fell on deaf ears as, due to her sensitivity towards sound, the test became utterly unbearable. Even the outdoors were nothing compared to the pain she suffered from the sounds being blasted into her head through the helmet. She couldn't even pass out to escape this suffering. The test only ended after the helmet had reached a volume just below the limit of what a human eardrum could take. She was dragged from her chair and back to her room, left to lay on her padded cell's floor, her eyes too dry from crying to cry anymore.
Every tear was a tear of pain.
This continued without end for the next eight years. Every three to four days she would be subjected to these horrible tests, all designed to bring out her latent epithet so they could find it's roots. Outside of testing life was no less awful. The orderlies were largely men who would happily keep this all a secret for the power they had over the patients and a low hourly wage. There was no recourse for their actions so long as no one from the outside was watching so for a majority of the time they did whatever they felt like when they weren't actively working. Patients who were disruptive were no strangers to beatings. The doctor was fine with this since it afforded him useful blackmail material to ensure none of the staff involved would spill the truth of the asylum's real purpose to the public. Such amorality was a valuable tool in getting his men to help him subject the abnormal patients to truly horrible experiments, up to and including live dissection. All the while Babble was a spectator to it all, forced to listen to every crime against morality carried out.
In the midst of all this horror and misery was an issue of a far less ethically dark nature but still awful nonetheless. Every night the orderly on night watch would always leave the radio on all throughout the night, blasting rock music until morning. No matter how much she begged them to not leave the radio on her words were ignored. While the music was disruptive to all the patient's sleep on that wing none were more disturbed by it than Olivia. While the padded cell afforded her some protection from the outdoor sounds it did little to abate the sound of the radio. She was all but incapable of falling asleep naturally, forced to stay awake for days at a time until she simply passed out from exhaustion.
Between the tests, the sounds of human suffering and the radio keeping her from sleeping it was impossible to remain wholly sane for long. It all took a toll on her mind, loosening her grip on sanity year after year. It was this slip into madness however that started to allow her to begin seeing sound in a new light, both figuratively and a bit literally. Out of a need to protect herself from the sounds around her she started to interact with the sound around her in an attempt to silence it. Her practice was met with mixed success. At first she'd fiddle with sound only for it to come out even louder or distorted like the sound of aluminum foil being chewed. After a couple tries however she was starting to grasp just how to shrink and grow wave amplitudes.
This was just the start to her awakening.
While Olivia was starting to succeed the doctor's own success was slipping. None of the phenomenons were showing any clear evidence of the source to their strange abilities. Compared to the larger and better funded secret facilities his own operation was under-performing. He needed results and too many of his subjects were dying before they could yield any telling evidence. His frustration grew with each failure and it started to wear on his pride. He often took his frustrations out on the subjects, frequently berating Olivia, often calling her a "Babbling imbecile".
As for her she was understanding more and more the longer she had to test different ideas. She discovered that the vibrations in her voice, the infrasound, was great for scaring the orderlies. Refining the sound so as to remove the audible aspects to the noise she was able to project a sound which was imperceptible as a sound but created the feeling of anxiety, irritation, nervousness and a subtle ghostly figure which was always just out of sight. The visual effect was a result of the infrasound causing the discs in the eyes to vibrate subtly causing such visual trickery. Between the air feeling colder, their minds becoming more agitated and their eyes perceiving things out of the corner of their vision the infrasonic waves created the very feeling of being haunted in all who heard it.
Night after night, day after day she filled the halls with infrasound. What was once an easy job had become a dread filled experience for the amoral employees of the asylum. The patients had become increasingly difficult to handle due to the fear which filled the hearts of everyone. The ghost sightings became a common rumor all across the hospital and soon hysteria was all too common amidst both patient and orderly.
The time was right.
That night when the lone watchman sat at his desk, the radio left off as he could no longer appreciate the music when the concern over the ghost which roamed the halls was ever present, she set her plan into motion. All around the night watchman the walls suddenly erupted with laughter. The phantasmal cackling filled the air sending the man into a panic. He ran, leaving his desk and fleeing from the asylum. Using her power over sound she sent vibrations through the lock of her metal cell door, wiggling the tumblers in the locking mechanism about until they finally clicked open. Pushing the door open, a greater effort for her than for others given how her body was weak from the stress and the pain she had endured, she stepped out into the hall and made her way to the orderly's desk. With access to the command console for the locks she ran her palm across all the buttons, opening all the doors to the cells across her wing of the building.
What followed was a riot as lunatics and epithet users alike fought their way to the exit, smashing at the gates to make their way to freedom. Before she could make her own way out of the asylum however a hand grabbed her by the hair. The doctor had been watching her this entire time, secretly observing her progress. With people running about all over she had mistaken his footsteps for that of one of the patients.
He dragged her behind him down the halls until they reached the operation room. He strapped her arms down and picked up the buzz saw. Having a patient who had manifested her powers quite so fully there was only one step left: To remove her brain and study it to find the neural branches developed from learning her power. He was certain that he could find the breakthrough he needed there.
Focusing on the bolts holding the straps in place she sent vibrations through the straps into the metal, wiggling the bolts free as quickly as she could. Just as the doctor was about to cut open her head her straps came free and she reflexively reached up to block the roaring blade. Instead of her cranium the saw chewed into hands, the metal rending through them. Seeing as she had suffered for so long and so much the pain was little more than a distraction, especially now as fresh adrenaline enriched her blood. Luckily for her the straps around her wrists had slowed the saw down enough that it didn't cleanly cut through her arms and into her head, allowing her the time she needed to bolt from her chair.
She ran from that room, from the doctor, down the halls and out the front doors which swung open now. The rest of the patients had made their escape, lunatics and epithet users flooding down into the city nearby. As she stepped out, looking up at the outside world for the first time in eight years, she could see smoke in the distance. No doubt the others were wreaking havoc upon the town amidst the chaos that their escape brought. She would not return to the city, at least not where she could be caught. She instead fled to the forest flanking the asylum, running past trees and over brush. Branches caught her clothes like so many tiny hands, tearing here and there at the fabric. Burs clung to the cuffs of her pant legs and thorns cut at her feet. She was hurt, she was bleeding, she was tired and her lungs burned from the effort of running for so long but she dared not stop, not until she was free from the doctor's reach once and for all.
At last freedom was hers.
She continued to walk when she could no longer run, staggering on for quite some time. She passed out only to awaken a short while later in the care of a couple hikers who had found her not far off the trail. They had done what they could, luckily for her one of them had a limited medical kit on him. Her arms were bandaged at the stumps and she had been given some water whilst she was out. She could hear the one hiker talking on the phone. He was speaking to police, calling for an ambulance.
She was not about to be taken in again, not by more doctors, not where he could find her. When the two weren't looking she canceled out the sound of her moving with waves of equal amplitude and length, getting up in total silence and running off into the woods. By the time the two noticed she was gone it was too late for them to chase her. They couldn't see which direction she had fled.
Since then she had taken shelter in an abandoned warehouse out at the edge of another city that was not too far from the one she had fled. This is where she resides, for now at least. She lives by stealing from the local convenience store, able to slip in and out without much notice much to the manager's chagrin. Not even the local police can solve this mystery.
But there's more to life than just eating and hiding.
Hello. I myself haven't seen the show Epithet Erased yet but I have watched several sessions of Anime Campaign off Jello's channel and I must admit the world and antics they brewed were quite enthralling.
As far as running an rp is concerned I've some experience both as a GM and a co-gm so I may be able to offer some assistance in that regard if you're interested. Either which way I'm quite interested and I've already got a couple characters in mind who'd fit the bill quite nicely. Just a couple of old favorites of mine which have never gotten a proper shot at this rp business. One's quite silly but with a somewhat darker backstory while the other one is more serious but has a tamer, more suburban background. Neither one's lives are perfect but they are a reasonable mix of dark undertones and fun potential for character growth and interaction.
For the most part the forest seemed unanimated. That did not mean the overgrowth wasn't caused by magic but there was little to change the end result. Rick looked ahead at the dim point of light at the end of the forest tunnel. He turned his gaze back down to the section of vine he had detached. His face was cold, unmoving, a stoic image of focus. It could be mistaken as such if it weren't for the motion of his eyelids blinking at distant intervals.
His first impulse was to burn it all. Set the forest ablaze and deprive the demon it's hiding spot. It already had access to his mind, at this point whatever action he took was undercut with the concern that it wasn't truly taking place. All the more reason to want to set a forest fire in motion before it had the chance to rob him of his reality once more.
He tempered this impulse with caution but it was still an option he hadn't taken off the table. Saving the others, even his guide Edmondo, was secondary to ending the demon for good. Trespassers upon the minds of others, no matter how innocuous, had no place in this world. They threatened his trust in his own mind. If he could not trust that his own thoughts were his then who was to say the devil hadn't already won? It would be as simple as swapping enmity with alliance. He could never be sure if that wasn't the truth. A true descent into madness that train of thought was. Considering it was a very real possibility only made it that many times worse.
Returning to the situation at hand he erred on the side of caution for now. Moving his back into a recess in the thicket he concealed himself amidst the thorns.
"Phantasmal vision. Let me see past my limits. Arcanist's Eye."
With a whispered incantation he conjured forth an Arcanist's eye. As he shut his eyes the Arcanist's eye opened, the world viewed through the detached force which moved forth at his will. Looking through this invisible force it moved forward towards the diminutive point of light. It was slow as it was a rather recent incantation he learned, his skill with the spell not yet refined to the point where he could urge it forth at a greater pace. He made sure to check it's surroundings all the while, keen not to miss any details along the way with the point that something fairly obviously set him towards. Better to see the trap from the outside rather than the inside. In this case he was going to see it from the inside while outside it.
Even without the sanctity of his mind preserved he wasn't going to let it choose for him what he does. Not so long as he has any choice in the matter.
If the mage's shield didn't hold then the rest of them would be in for an unhealthy experience within that miasma the masked attacker exuded. Fortunately thanks to her familiar the attacker's miasma abated to an extent. It would give them breathing room, so to speak, in the off-chance that the shield shattered.
Her cold eyes weighing the risks she decided to hold off on bringing another summon to the fight just yet. She trusted Thanatos with this task as he was quite a capable killer. With that she stood near the back all the same should the need to retreat to a more secluded position arise. She did loath to bring forth new fears into being in front of an audience.
As for Thanatos itself the blast of magic was annoying but only served to stall it. Flowing into the motion it curved around as it was blasted back and like dark tatters upon a cursed wind it flew for the aggressor with it's scythe primed to strike. Seeing the martial artist leap in to deliver a kick at the demon it waited just within striking range, following the masked attacker's movements with the angle of it's blade so that when and if the attacker dodged the strike aimed at him Thanatos could cut along his path.
The moment stood still, it's blade ready to bisect the masked threat as commanded.
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EchoicChamber
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dragonpiece
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Damycles
Echotech71