Algarus

Outcasts Assembled (An AU X-Men roleplay)

General
Full Name: Elaina Montoya Aluclair
Alias: Prism [Weapon: Starburst]
Age: 24
POB: Quebec, Canada
Mutant: Yes
Nationality: French Canadian
Height: 5’4”
Weight: 115lbs
Ethnicity: French Canadian/American
Affiliations: U.S Government (Formerly), None
Relatives: Unknown.
Voice Claim: Madame Rogue (youtube.com/watch?v=yYbIL4NrQZE)

Biography:
Elaina always had a fascination with light and how it interacted with the world. For that reason she took to studying physics, unaware of her dormant abilities for much of her life. After studying physics and earning her degree at the age of twenty four, she began research on the possibility of hard light projection technology for the French Military. Though problems began to emerge. Her father worked in defense contracts for Lockheed Martin, her mother a secretary for the Canadian embassy in France. She had been born in Canada, but moved to France as a young woman.

None of her fellow researchers could get their projections to remain solid, without Elaina being present. After further investigation, and finally a proven case, her life took a drastic turn. Asked by her government to accept a transfer to the United States, she reluctantly agreed, before being informed of her contributions being breakthrough in her field. When she arrived in America, she found her supposed office to be little more than a cell. She was ambushed, drugged, and held in isolation, with various tests being performed on her. After an unknown mineral known simply as Specimen-4231x was used to reflect Gamma Rays into her being, her body underwent a transformation. All light in the facility went out, and Elaina disappeared along with it.

Personality:
Elaina used to be a ray of sunshine in the room, always wanting to know and inquire about the world around her. Both parents encouraged her to study and take interest in the world around her. After her treatment, she's more reclusive and standoffish. Her appearance has been warped beyond measure, and she no longer recognizes herself. Her powers allow her to create an illusion of sorts for her appearance, though reflections allow others to see through it. As such, she avoids reflective surfaces.

Physical Description:
Prism is a black void of an entity. Bits of blue light break out across her skin and ripple in accordance to her mood, and amount of energy stored. Her eyes glow like LED's and there is a distortion to her voice when she speaks. Her illusion is that of herself before the accident, a tan skinned woman, with long black hair, often wearing bright colors. She avoids mirrors for sake of her sanity, and in her natural state her hair flows in a way that seem like a mirage.

Mutation:
Mutant Power Level: Omega
Light Manipulation: Prism is able to warp and contain Light. To some, this might seem like much, but this allows Prism to mold and create light not unlike the comic hero Green Lantern. Beams, constructs, and even light illumination she can manipulate and augment. This gives her access to a dangerous amount of power, as she learns to better harness and utilize it. In theory, Prism can move at the speed of Light, create illusions of herself, Hard Light constructs, and even blind people to her very presence by molding and distorting light around her body.

Light Illusions: Prism can create illusions around herself or others using Light, this also allows her to high in plain sight.

Flight: By warping photons around her, Prism can fly by expelling them from her body at high intensity, allowing her to convert part of her body into Light, and allowing her to move. The speed of this is hard for her to control, so she using it sparingly.

Light Constructs: Prism can craft constructs out of her collected light photons, and make solid objects or entities. This allows her to make walls, fists, or even armor if need be for combat or utility.

Light/ Radiation Detection: Prism is able to tap into the electromagnetic spectrum, giving her the ability to detect, manipulate, and distort anything that pings on this spectrum. Though she must be in close proximity to alter and bend it to her will.

Supercharged Form: If too much energy is absorbed, Prism will erupt into a bust of gamma energy, turning an almost dark green color, and begin to spread lethal amounts of Gamma Radiation. She has avoided this by erupting in isolated areas or in high orbit.

Weaknesses & Limitations:

Mirrors: Prism is unable to accept her new being, and will lose her composure if faced with her appearance. She avoids mirrored surfaces like the plague.

Limited energy reserves: Prism can store up energy within her, but there is a limit. The more light she uses, the more her body begins to grow weaker.

Light Leech: If exposed to an environment without light, Prism's body will begin to break down if she expends too much energy. This kills her.

A Wizard's Shadow

Rising from her chair, Topsy moved about, humming to herself as she began to collect her things, 'Miss Topsy' still in hand. "Those damn Brits, thinking they can just flutter over here with their problem...it's like the Second World War...or the Wizardry War...or...was it the Dragon Wars? You know what I mean Topsy?" She asks to the rabbit, which only wiggled it's ears in rebuttal. "Right you are. No respect for the American way....not that it matters I suppose...."

She muttered to herself, thinking back to the woman who blew kisses to her in the crowd. It had really turned her stomach in a most peculiar way. Whatever nonsense the Brits had gotten themselves into, they were leaving her to sort it out. Probably because her own people viewed her as a nut case. To be fair, they weren't far off, a witch putting on a show for muggles? To Topsy it seemed all well and good, though simple and crude, No-Maj had all sorts of fun inventions. Firearms aside.

Grabbing for her wand, she muttered an incantation, letting the lock of the makeup drawer fall open. She pulled out a small hand purse from her makeup drawer, and began to sort through it. She pulled out a small box of .44 caliber ammo, and set her revolver down.

Cheating as it might be, she figured she might bring a bit of home with her along the way, setting 'Miss Topsy' down as she stowed the items away, grabbing a small bag of alchemical ingredients, and her own assortment of wizardry tools. They really should have called her ahead of time with this sort of nonsense, now her entire schedule was up in a free-fall. Not like the wizarding world cared about the livelihood of a single witch. They were going to owe her for this. But she'd have to think of how they could pay her....

She lifted up her hat, muttering another incantation about the rim, letting the enchantment take hold, then moved down to do the same to her fishnets. She wasn't about to be caught unawares, especially with death eater nonsense on her mind. She gave a pause, and moved to retrieve a carrot for her bunny, and gingerly set it down for Miss Topsy to enjoy. Her eyes went back to her robes, then to her far more attractive stage coat. She never liked the whole 'robe and staff' business of wizards. Too traditional for her liking. No no, if she could buy herself some time by looking like a random discount corner store magician, then that's what she'd do. Show those uptight death eater folks what an American Witch was really capable of. She grabbed for it, and settled it against her chair. Then, with handbag in tow, she sat atop her trunk, and awaited these two, wondering if they were going to try and pull rank on her, or be actual civil folk who would humbly ask for her help.

She had a strong feeling it would be the former.

@Posh Raven@MightyHorus

A Wizard's Shadow

Her eyes might have had a tinge of crazy to them, as she scanned over the crowd, giving into that desire of building anticipation, as she could feel the heat of the gun barrel caressing the side of her face, the smell of burnt gunpowder filling her nostrils. Her hand moved to pop open the chamber of the revolver, giving it another spin, before she slapped it shut, and reaimed the weapon to her temple.

Her eyes found Percy and Nerissa for a moment, gazing intently at them, as she tried to think of her plans for the after show. There had been something, that she was sure of. Though the faint tingle against her waistcoat informed her of danger, as she snapped the gun back, firing off another shot, filling the theater with another loud 'boom', as she shattered blew through another one of the targets, the gun kicking hard against her palm.

Another burst of screams sounded, though Topsy ignored it, flipped open the barrel, and gave it another spin for snapping it closed. Again, gun to her head, she dry fired one more, the empty 'click' of the gun once more drowned out by cries. Cries that only worsened when she pulled again, and fired another blank, the crowd now antsy with anticipation, though Topsy kept working on.

She worked her way down of course, the rate of firing, spinning, and firing again. She worked her way down the targets, her wand serving as her little 'trick' to avoid the danger, though the cries of the crowd seemingly grew more frantic. Again, her gaze return to Percy and Nerissa as she fired off the second last bullet, leaving only one target remaining, though Topsy still cocked back the hammer of the gun, and returned to her temple. The tingle of danger informed her of what was to come, though she had planned this from the start.

Time to see if her incantations were really all that she chalked them up to be. Her gaze stuck with the pair, Topsy giving them a small wink as she went into her final explanation, feeling pretty certain that these might have been the contacts she was to be expecting. How tragic though, that the ministry was personally asking for her help with this case. "Now folks, as you know, I like to end my show with a bang. So, given there's no bigger way than to end this-" In almost one fluid motion, Topsy squeezed the trigger, the gun discharging as the smoke filled the stage once more. Something clearly fluid like sprayed from where the woman had stood, her body falling forward, the now empty gun falling away from her hand, as Topsy hit the floor with a 'thud'. The audience erupted into screams of horror, and for a moment, it seemed that something had gone amiss.

But no one rushed to the stage, nor did blood pool from Topsy as she laid there. It took a handful of breaths before the crowd would notice the young woman sat on her knees, looking to the audience with the biggest grin on her face, the spent bullet proudly being shown between her teeth as she slowly rose to stand, waving as she did so, though she left her top hat behind her. It took several moments longer before the crowd finally began to start cheering, and Topsy reveled in it.

The voice of the announcer broke out over the audience, as Topsy slowly collected her gun, and hat, then with almost catlike grace, bowed to the audience in a quick motion. "Everyone, give it up for Topsy Thompson!" Her escape route opened in the floor behind her, and she eagerly stepped back, giving a small hop as she did so, before disappearing into the stage before.

The curtain would close behind her as she vanished, the magician landing gleefully on the padded mattress below the stage, as she took a moment to just enjoy the sounds of the crowd up above her, though her fingers rubbed furiously at the numb sensation on her cheek. Turning part of her face into ballistic gel for a few seconds had taken quite a bit of practice, but doing it without the vocal components had without a doubt been the most challenging spell she had done in recent memory. Not to mention, it kinda...hurt doing this. Still, the thudding of her heart and the quickening of her pulse was well enough the reward, and after a moment of enjoying her own cleverness, she'd be off and returning to her show room.

Though, as the audience began to clear out, Percy and Nerissa would be approached by the bunny girl from earlier, holding a very obvious invitation to join Topsy backstage. "Miss Thompson was informed she would be expecting visitors, and you two, seem the visiting sort, yes?" She inquired, her gaze seemed friendly enough, though Nerissa would feel a sharp piercing gaze from the woman as the invitation was exchanged, before the bunny girl withdrew, almost seeming to disappear into the scenery of the theater.

Meanwhile, Topsy took to sitting at her makeup table, top hat sitting up on the table itself, when 'Miss Topsy' returned. Topsy smiled, looking back to her creation, as she motioned it further into the room, the door shutting behind it. Halfway across the floor, 'Miss Topsy' reverted back into her true form, of a bunny, and gingerly pounced her way back to her owner, leaping up into Topsy's lap for well deserved ear rubs. "Well done little one, I do hope they enjoyed the show." .

Now it was just to wait and see what came next.

A Wizard's Shadow

As the two began to take their seats, the main show did indeed begin. The patterns about the stage seemed to spin and whirl about, before vanishing up into the ceiling, a music number fired up, and the curtains were hoisted up and away to reveal....a single showgirl, dressed as a rabbit. Her hair was nearly silver, her legs clad in fishnet stockings, and only part of her costume that even hinted towards rabbit were the black ears a top her head. The audience began to cheer, as the woman began to start the introductions.

"Ladies and babies, men and boys, welcome one and all to the Topsy Thompson Miracle Show! How are we doing tonight folks?" She called out, taking several steps towards the audience. Most of which seemed more impressed with the woman than the words she spoke. "The Mistress of Mayhem, the Harlot of Vegas, and the longest surviving Topsy in the US of A, I give you-" Before the woman could finish, a large anvil descended from above. The poor bunny girl had only a moment to look up in sheer horror, before the large metal construct slammed into her, making a roaring boom as it struck.

Cries of terror and horror broke out, as the stockings of the poor woman could be seen wiggling from under the anvil, the crowd seemed dead silence, much like the poor showgirl that had taken the anvil on.

Though the rest of the staff didn't seem to know it, as Percy and Nerissa would find themselves being handed several menus and order sheets, as the chaos on stage unfolded. After what seemed like several minutes, but was actually only a few seconds, the woman's legs vanished under the anvil, a cloud of smoke gushing up from underneath the iron construct, and quickly filling the stage.

The blare of a trumpet signaled a change, as atop the anvil, stop a woman dressed in the most unusual grab. Sporting fishnets, she wore a waistcoat, custom tailored of course for her own needs, well polished dress shows, and a rather questionable top hat that she proudly wore atop her head. Though the small half cloak she adorned herself with was probably the worst part of the attire. Regardless, the woman held one hand aloft, the other facing down towards the anvil. Above her dangled the bunny girl, clearly suspended on a wire device, as she seemed to lounge in her new comfortable position. While under her, the anvil began to seemingly shrink into the floor. At once, the audience seemed to come alive, the fear replaced with excitement. However the room was rather hazy as the strange woman took the stage.

The bunny girl took her cue, spinning on the wires as she bellowed. "Topsy Thompson! In person!" Topsy accepted the roaring crowd with a bow, the platinum blonde gently being lowered in sync with Topsy's hand motions. The anvil however, began to melt it seemed, as the two women began to lower to the floor. "Thank you Miss Topsy for that lovely introduction, now hop on along, I only have so many anvils to spare tonight." She made a little shooing motion, giving her assistant the cue they needed to leave. The anvil, perhaps now being seen as an inflatable device, was soon removed by a pair of stage hands, as Topsy removed her hat and bowed to the crowd, giving a small flourish as she did. Of course, her free hand reached into her coat for something, as she began to explain her trick. "Due to acts of magic of the forbidden kind, my manager is only allowing me to show one new trick for today, and fret not ladies and gentleman, it is no mere card trick I wish to show!" She produced her gun, waving it about in the air, as the stage hands behind her wheeled out several target posters. "Have you ever heard of Russian Roulette? Well, in Vegas it's one of the few roulette games they won't let you in on. Though trust me, if they could, they would!" Topsy remarked, drawing a few chuckles from the crowd, though there were already murmurs about how real the gun was.

"So, Russian Roulette was something I thought...could have potential, but there's a problem. Only one bullet, six chambers. Odds are in your favor. That might do you just find if you’re British or Russian. Well, this is America-" She started, flipping her top hat back atop her head, as she produced six bullets, and began loading the gun. "Here in America, we like underdogs, so, I made my own game. I call it, American Roulette! Don't try this at home folks! No, seriously, the manager is legally at fault for this apparently, we aren’t on good terms right now. ANYWAYS!" Once she loaded all six chambers, she spun back to the targets, and smiled back to the crowd with glee. "Here's how it works. I have a fully loaded gun, and using nothing but magic, I'm going to know...when the gun is loaded, and when it's not. Work myself down from six to zero bullets, and hopefully, not die!" She waited for the audience to respond, before going on. "Now, in case you're wondering, yes, this is a real gun-" She squeezed the trigger, the sound of the revolver deafening as it struck the target, smoke billowing from the other end of the weapon. Several screams and cries came from the audience, as Topsy turned back to them, putting the gun to her own temple, but not before opening the chamber and letting it spin. The radiance began to scream, some people reaching out their hands to try and stop her.

Though Topsy was entirely unphased. Slamming the chamber shut after it's little ordeal, she felt calm as the still hot steel lingered against her head. The lack of a tremor from her wand told her the danger was gone, and without hesitation, she pulled the trigger. The muffled 'click' of the dry fire was entirely drowned out by cries from the audience. Yet Topsy cared now, the show must go on. "Place your bets, as we're about to get this trick on the roll!" She spun about on the stage, cocking the hammer, and let another shot ring out, as she tore through another target. Much to the outrage of the crowd. Several people screamed for her to stop, though another collection seemed to be cheering her on.

The rush she got from this was something else. Even if she lost her show over this, it'd still be worth it.

A Wizard's Shadow

*click* *click* *click*

”Topsy for Gods sake, put the gun down!” She giggled deviously as she watches the pudgy manager motion with his hands as if that would compel her to cease her demonstration. He was mistaken.

“Mister York, I’m just wanting to make sure you get the point of this show. See what I did there? Point and I have you at-““Topsy, what the hell is wrong with you?” He shouted, nearly falling over his desk as she kept the weapon leveled at him. Of course, it was unloaded with the safety on, for now. “I’m just trying to put on a show, and people want spectacle so-“ She reached into her coat, producing a single round and sliding it into the chamber of the revolver. She withdrew the weapon, cocking the hammer and pressed the cold steel against her temple. Mr. York’s eyes widened in horror.

“It’s memorization, I’m going to guess what chamber has the bullet. It’ll keep people on edge and-“ She never got to finish.

“You are not shooting yourself on my stage!” He bellowed, trying to make an advance past his desk, though it did little to stop Topsy’s determination. “Okay, but hear me out. Think of the money.” She stated, wiggling her now loaded gun about. Mr. York didn’t seem to certain.

Topsy just sighed, and pulled the trigger.

Then proceeded to laugh as the *click* sent Mr. York into another screaming fit. He was going to see the appeal into this act sooner or later. Topsy Thompson changed her plans for no one.

A Wizard's Shadow

Abigail Thompson, or Abbey as she preferred, had taken to the stage as a young girl. First in dance, later in magic. Of course the type of magic she dabbled in, was a tad more complicated than mere card tricks and slight of hand; though she very much enjoyed such parlor tricks in her youth. Having grown up in the city of lights, Las Vegas had become something of a reflection to her on the world. Full of wonder, infested with danger, and just begging for spectacle. Of course, to the 'muggles' as her posh counterparts called them, it was another matter entirely. Abbey rather liked the simple mindedness of the common people, finding them rather whimsy in their own way. Having to make due in a world devoid of actual magic, she rather liked the 'No-Maj'. They were silly things, with their trinkets and plain foods, but innovative as well. True their cars couldn't fly, but that didn't stop them from taking to the stars. Quite remarkable she thought, which was why she herself didn't mind living among them. The Terrific Topsy Thompson might not roll off the tongue, but it played to her strengths.

True, her attire might have been frowned upon, sporting the fishnets, top hat, and dress of a simple performer, but she preferred to that way. Her time at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had taught her the value of the simple approach, and making oneself as unremarkable as possible; though that might not have been the Thunderbird way. Very few wizards took her as seriously as they should, and frankly, that was fine with her. Just like the No-Maj that she was fond of, she took had quite a bit in store for the dullard that found her insulting.

Within the Mirage Resort and Casino, she went about preparing for her act. The .44 revolver she had secured for the act ahead felt so odd in her hands. No-Maj favored these rather much. Perhaps too much. Opening the box full of the small strange metal canisters, it took her little time to slide them into the empty chamber, and clamp it shut. She had never tried this trick before, so hopefully it would be fun.

Her Thunderbird core quivered from her waistcoat, to which she patted it gently. Funny how this thing worked at times.

The stage hand behind her caught her attention, her hand reaching for her top hat, pushing back a black curl as she smiled to him.

"Yes?"

He seemed to be in a daze for a moment, before he stuttered out a few words. "Miss Topsy, the manager is still waiting for your explanation of the trick, he's...concerned."

She snickered, a hand patting the young man on the shoulder, the loaded firearm still in her hand. She raised the weapon up, wiggling it to show the man. "I'm just going to shoot myself with this, and see what happens. He need not fret."

She laughed in delight at seeing the man's bewilderment, and prepared for the next hour of verbal sparring.

She was a witch after all, and she mustn't reveal all her tricks.

No-Maj seemed to be more disappointed when they learned they were seeing actual magic after all.

Destiny Intertwined - Wheel of Time

Ataline sat in a back corner, cowl tucked over her head, ensuring the blood red sea of hair she sported would remain under wraps. It had been a long and troubled time on the roads from here, and the tales she had heard were none fairer. Her bow laid against the wall, as did the hunting spear she was so used to wielding. Compared to the rest of the rabble, she might have seemed a hunter of the horn, which wasn't entirely far off. She had little to do now, in the days since her home was left behind, the ghost of her father clung to her like a chill in her bones. She could only hope that the fires of wanderlust might one day free her from such a thing. For now, with a handful of stale bread and cold lamb stew, she watched the gleeman, and was reminded of the days when she had been the mistress of her own Tavern. Of course, it was never truly her own, but rather her fathers and mothers; yet she had been in charge of it.

Her idle ears caught the talk of White Cloaks and the Dragon Reborn, and suddenly the thought of finishing her meal no longer appealed to her. Thoughts which soon turned to the fact she had no shelter for the night. She had thought that perhaps a warm meal might be enough to shelter against the cold, but such a meal had gone luke-warm but an hour ago. A bit of a foolish move on her part, but so it was. With talk of Whitecloaks, and Dragons, she pushed back a loose lock of hair, setting off a small chorus of bells that rattled under her cowl. It was a custom unique to Arafel. One that she didn't quite understand, but as a girl she had always woven bells into her hair. Even with her family slain, she would continue to do so. It was perhaps, the few fragments she could carry with her. What good were these saviors of the realm if they were so caught in their own world that the tragedies of others were largely unknown. For two weeks she had traveled now, and not one person spoke of the Trollics that had attacked Tifan's Well, of those brave defenders who had died, and the Aes Sedai that had been slain as they road forth. At least, she was certain the mother had died. It wasn't something she would expect to be repeated, the death of an Aes Sedai was trouble enough, one slain by Trollics? Well, that was one way to end up being on the sour side of the White Tower. Far as they would know, the woman known as Ataline was just as dead as the Brown Sister they had sent with her. Pushing her bowl aside, she clutched at her remnants of bread, and decided to take her mind off such affairs, she would speak with the Gleeman.

Her eyes had lingered upon him, and he had shown some level of discomfort at the talks; not that she blamed him. In the recent days talk of the Dragon or any hint of where one's allegiance set could set forth any matter of mayhem. No, she would speak to the Gleeman of plain things, and the tales that had humored her in simpler times. Nothing of Dragons, White Cloaks, or bloody Aes Sedai. Collecting what was hers, she left the way she had come in, the warmth of the common room vanished quickly, though the voices from within lingered. Regardless, her course was set, moving towards the stables, bow across her shoulder, spear poking out of her quiver; she must have seemed quite a sight to some. She had only hope the Gleeman not take her appearance for something less than friendly.

@MightyHorus

Avatar - The Greater Conflict

Character Sheet

Name: Pan
Age: 28
Affiliation: Air Nomads
Bending: Air Bender
Background:
Pan is a traveler and scholar, lover and collector of stories and music, she travels the world collecting and hoarding what other nations have to try and share them with her people. To avoid being called out as a Nomad, she often deploys a rough wig fashioned from her Sky Bison, Yoma, and sells herself as a scribe.

Walking the streets, Pan couldn't help but notice that the energy of this place was indeed changing, though perhaps now she was more acutely aware of pitfalls with others behaviors. Merchants seemed more guarded, mothers practically dragged their children along to where they were moving to, and men seemed to have a rigid posture, as if expecting something to happen. There was a nervous energy, where she had once mistaken it for a bustling energy. It was then she caught the sounds of people muttering on about a curfew, something that Pan had entirely forgotten about.

Eyeing the sky, she realized there was no way she'd be able to finish her list of things to do and get back to Yoma; the poor girl was probably worried sick, but the sky bison would have to wait. Right now, she needed to secure herself a place to stay for the evening, or risk being arrested; the thought itself was abhorrent to the Air Nomad. Though now, she was stuck trying to find a room for the night, and not knowing the city as well as she'd like, she found herself moving about, trying to find an open room to stay at.

Avatar - The Greater Conflict

Character Sheet

Name: Pan
Age: 28
Affiliation: Air Nomads
Bending: Air Bender
Background:
Pan is a traveler and scholar, lover and collector of stories and music, she travels the world collecting and hoarding what other nations have to try and share them with her people. To avoid being called out as a Nomad, she often deploys a rough wig fashioned from her Sky Bison, Yoma, and sells herself as a scribe.

Milling about Goju, there was a murmur of activity about, so much so that even Pan was taken in by the talk. Fire Nation activity, rumors of ploys, and something about the Fire Lord's Firedillo being taken by the Earth King; now that, she found the most interesting topic of discussion. However, as curious as Firedillo heist might have been, she was more intent on this scroll she had just found. Her mentors had told her to stay out of the city, but she had never let that stop her before. If this city was gonna be burnt to the ground, she was going to get what she could and bail. The book shop was a little out of the way, at the outskirts of a market. The owner was a crone of a woman, eyeing everyone with an air of suspicion that made Pan ponder if she did something wrong. The scroll itself was weathered, had been out in the sun too much, and it's contents, some sort of Water Nation ritual dance, were starting to fade; perfect for her Southern Water Tribe collection. "What say I offer ye, three copper pieces?" She asked, holding up the scroll in one hand, her deft fingers wiggling out three coins that the she held, concealing a forth silver piece inside the pit of her thumb. She tried her best winning smile, and was met with the cold gaze of the crone. "No."

Pan blinked, her scalp growing more itchy under the wig of white hair she sported. She nodded, slowly, wiggling the forth piece out, as if trying to put on abit of a show. "What say, a silver and three coppers?" This time however, the crone scoffed, offering out and old and leathery hand to collect the coin. "Be off with yourself girl. This is not the day for antics." Rolling her new piece of work into her satchel, Pan's smile faded at the woman's words. Were things really that bad?

So deep in these thoughts, she turned to leave, nearly bumping into a young man with a stack of books, and nimbly squeezed between and the door frame. Stepping out into the market, she wondered if it would just be wise to leave now, maybe there was something truly about to go down in the city today. She'd rather not stretch her pacifist ideals this day. She just wanted some scrolls after all.

Pan

Name: Pan
Age: 28
Affiliation: Air Nomads
Bending: Air Bender
Background:
Pan is a traveler and scholar, lover and collector of stories and music, she travels the world collecting and hoarding what other nations have to try and share them with her people. To avoid being called out as a Nomad, she often deploys a rough wig fashioned from her Sky Bison, Yoma, and sells herself as a scribe.