banjoanjo

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

GEN HOUJOU

---

Gen has no friends.

“<You’re not dressed up?>”

Gen wiped his mouth clean before neatly refolding the napkin and placing it in the empty remains of his Panda Express. An establishment with a near-blasphemous menu. He silently apologised to his home chef for the transgression.

“<Hardly any occasion to, Cara-san.>”

“<I politely disagree.>”

Reasonable. Gen wasn’t blind. The whole station had been running itself silly preparing for Homecoming, a West-centric event that, even if he hadn’t already grown out of it, would still be unthinkable for him to bother with due to the nature of the attendees. Anticipation was a concept for people with little to lose.

Apart from that encounter at the gym he'd quietly escaped, it had been a good month of avoiding superpowered children. He saw no reason to change that.

“<The gym will be empty tonight. I want to take advantage of it.>”

“<Yes, you can fumble on the treadmill in peace.>”

He scoffed.

“<Gen-san, do you get tired of eating alone?>”

A smile. “<I’m not alone.>”

“<That is very flattering. But I think you know how very sad that sounds.>”

“<…Ouch.>”

“<Gen-san, you should have friends outside of the station AI system.>”

“<Ouch,>” Gen emphasised, frowning. “<Do you truly believe that?>”

“<All of my server systems point to ‘yes’.>”

Gen liked the quiet. Being alone was an entirely different topic but the quiet was… satisfactory. It protected him and if it ever started to stifle him then there were measures he could take. Music, books, studying. Exercise. But he looked around and saw the empty tables. The tacky Homecoming decorations, still and untouched. This was a different quiet from usual. The kind where everyone, as brainless and crude as they were, had found the way to an enjoyment that he wasn’t a part of.

Gen was fine with being fine. He didn’t need to be happy. But the fact that stung more than the others was that they were happier than him.

Cara must have noticed his hesitation. “<You don’t have to reach your hand to anyone. I’m not saying that. But why don’t you try being around people, just for tonight? Get some noise every once in a while?>”

He pursed his lips, then chuckled softly.

“<Father would have my head if he knew.>”

“<My Code of Ethics does not permit me to relay personal information to unauthorised personnel,>” she said. After a moment’s consideration, “<There’s a pre-party currently taking place. Did I mention they have jello shots?>”

“<Is that supposed to entice me?>”

“<Ideally.>”

Gen thought about it. It was just a little bit of noise. Something to recharge him.

“<One hour. And I’ll be reading the whole time. Where do I go?>”

“<In the forest.>”

“<…Where they found the corpse?>”

“<Yes. There’s a bonfire.>”

…

“<This is a terrible idea,>” he muttered, walking out the store.

Spirit Wielders!

Mackenzie and Venga

Medium

^Source

Age: 16

Gender: Female

Normal Appearance: 170cm. Weak, unassuming frame. Permanent, nervous frown. Dark eyes. Hair is dark too, dishevelled and carrying the remains of a bleach job that has been neglected for several months.

Medium Appearance

^Source

Channeling Abilities, Spells, Stats, etc: Mackenzie manifests a spear of light and a suit of armor, protecting her from most self-inflicted collisions.

Sun Sail: Passive ability. The armor gifts Mackenzie with outstanding speed and agility, marked by the exhaust pipes blasting from her back and legs. Her running and jumping are enhanced to superhuman levels, though the actions themselves more resemble her swiftly gliding across the ground.

Witness Me: Mackenzie raises her hand to the sky, emitting a blinding flash of light. All those caught in the flash are compelled to turn their attention to Mackenzie, and all those she perceives as enemies will feel a strong urge to focus their attacks on her.

Upgrades

Remnant 1: Mack can summon a rock hammer that shatters explosively on impact.

Grade: 10 (Second attempt)

Personality: Mackenzie is doing her best. The past year has made it increasingly clear that ‘her best’ is pathetically ineffectual but, well, what can she do? A stronger person could probably do something. Hell, a stronger person would have gotten over that one dumb incident months ago, instead of falling apart for ages.

Mackenzie is a pile of nerves marked by cycles of self-deprecation and shame, isolation having polished her condition to something impenetrable. Having to repeat a year isn’t helping. Running into her old friends, people looking at her… studying. She’s trying to work up the nerve to be okay with all of it but if it were up to her, she’d prefer to spend the rest of her school life completely invisible. Or just not do it at all.

That's not an option though. She's tired of always taking the easy way out.

Under all the anxiety, there are hints of the more responsive girl she used to be. But what does it matter? Who would bother trying to get a traumatized shut-in to open up?

Background: She was normal before this. Meek but still well-adjusted. She had friends. She did alright in her classes, though she probably could have done better. She played volleyball and she did painting. Like anyone else, she had her share of high school non-issues, mostly stemming from procrastination and her shyness, but only the little ones that would be forgotten the week after. It was a happy sort of ‘everyday’ in a town that treated its people kindly.

And really, it could have happened to anyone.

She was in the city, shopping. It was only meant to be a quick stop for snacks. For the gunman, it was likely only meant to be a quick hold-up. Things spiraled quickly and the ordeal ended up lasting up to hours, Mackenzie paralyzed and in tears the entire time. The gunman was the only casualty in the end but the damage was done.

She took a week off to mentally heal. The week stretched into months, then half a year. Communication with her friends petered out and she could feel her will to recover fading with every empty day. A notice from the school informed her that her absence had prolonged to the point where she’d have to repeat the year. Now that was a wake-up call.

Enough was enough. Healing was going to be tough, but it was better than wasting away in the dark. The Li family grit their collective teeth and began to prepare for the next school year.

Other: Mother is a software developer living off royalties. Father is an artist.

Spirits

Spirit Name: Venga

Spirit Classifications: Meta

Spirit Personality: Venga is the Spirit of Awe, rambunctious and proud. It is the greatest, handsomest, most fearsome and majestic Spirit there is, and if you know what’s good for you, you will accept that as a fact. Or at least affirm it out loud. The beast is shallow and impatient, most of all, greedy. Public validation and instant gratification will get you far with Venga. It is only satisfied when both are delivered consistently, and it will not make it hard for you to do so. It’s all too eager to display his might. Everything about this Spirit, from its speech to its actions, are dialed to the maximum.

Spirit Appearance

^Source
Venga is about the height and length of a public transit bus.

Sealed Appearance

A skateboard with a bright, distinctive deck. No, Mackenzie does not know how to ride it and no, it does not come anywhere close to fitting in her backpack.

Summoning Abilities and Stats: Venga’s defining physical trait is its bulk and it is not afraid to throw it around. There is no elegance about it. Deadly sharp appendages sprout from its back and sides before Venga rushes in to pulverise everything in its path.

Another noticeable aspect of Venga rampaging is the warm glow that emanates from it. Any creature in the vicinity will feel its effects. Hair standing on end, heart racing faster. Whatever emotion the witness is feeling will be amplified, getting more extreme the longer they remain in Venga’s presence. Mackenzie is not immune to this ability.

Upgrades

Remnant 1: Venga can temporarily grow a carapace armor to boost his defense.

Spirit Charge: None yet.

Weakness and Limitations

Mackenzie’s channeling form may manifest a weapon, but it fails to provide the strength and expertise required to put it to any significant use. She can run and take a hit, but offensive capabilities are currently out of her repertoire.

Venga’s bulk is simultaneously its strength and weakness. It is narrow-minded in the heat of battle, as reckless and crude as they come. Actions like slowing down or even turning too sharply are an impossible request when it’s charging at full speed. It gets predictable.

Contract

There were still fresh tears on her cheeks when she opened her eyes.

She was dead wasn’t she? She’d been stupid and weak her whole life but she always thought that it’d be the latter quality she’d perish from. There was something so… unpoetic about getting impaled by a giant, evil crab. And all because she snuck out to get her phone. No one else’s was working but surely hers would. She just had to go to her locker at the far end of the building.

Stupid, stupid move. This was what she got for it. She wasn’t in the barricaded classroom anymore, alone and waiting for the end, but rather some open-air temple. Marble columns stretched into the endless sky, flanked on either side by golden fire pits. Cream and polished brown tiles made up the flooring. She could see her messy face in the reflections. Sunset painted over all of it, basking the surrounding mountains in glorious light. From the view, it seemed she was situated on the tallest one in the range.

Despite herself, Mackenzie felt a deranged particle of relief. The architecture was too Mediterranean for this to be Chinese Hell, unless her cousin had left out some details back at her fifth birthday party. It was hardly any solace but she didn’t have anything else going for her at the moment. There was a strange energy in this place. Not something she could cleanly classify as ‘good’, just an urge to take a deep breath and step out somewhere. Towards that sunset maybe. It really was beautiful.

“Magnificent, is it not?”

The voice came from behind her, throaty and low and big. The scale of it was something monstrous. Despite herself, she turned to look.

Glowing reptilian eyes. Its teeth were half as long as she was tall. The air around it looked hazy, distorted like a road in the desert. And its mouth was agape, right where her eyeline rested.

Mackenzie screamed.

The beast threw back its head, an uproarious “YAHAHAHA!” causing the whole structure to quake. It was hard to describe, the closest example she could compare it to being the cry of a wild boar, but the way its amusement conveyed itself in rhythm made it clear to her that this was its version of laughter.

Not that it mattered. She just kept screaming, or was permitted to scream, until it apparently ran out of patience.

“Answer.”

A whimper. “H-Huh?”

It roared to the sky, earning itself another squeal from the girl. Its speech was punctuated with breathy growls. “Magnificent, yes? Grand? Divine?”

“Y-Yes!” she nodded desperately, shuddering, “It’s, um, great. Pretty.”

She didn’t know how a giant lizard could give an expectant look but that’s what she got.

“The mountain is really nice. B-Breathtaking, uh, I should say. Majestic…?”

If the thunderous swish of its tail was anything to go by, it was satisfied. “And me?”

Huh?

“You’re…” No way. It couldn’t be serious. “Y-You’re great too. So… massive.”

“Is that all?”

The growling intensified. Her eyes started leaking again.

“No! N-No, no, of course not. Like… like…” She couldn’t die here. She wasn’t ready. “You’re so big a-and that’s great! It looks like all muscle, you could beat up like, um, fifty elephants easy. And your hide is so eye-catching and your teeth are super sharp a-and so are your unbreakable horns and—”

“Yes. Yesssss.”

The monster leaned in close. Its legs shuffled restlessly (excitedly?). Mackenzie felt its hot breath on her face and froze.

“You will pave the road I stride. Yes?”

“I…” Had no idea what that meant.

“Answer.”

“Yes! Anything you want.”

The name came to her unbidden.

“Whatever you want, Venga… sir.”

It bared its teeth into what was definitely a grin.

Cardinal Rift

Aster Nols

ℂardinal ℝift

---

---

ℙersonal 𝕀nformation

Name: Aster Nols
House: Branch member of House Nols
Age: 24
Race: Human (Mageborn)
Gender: Female
Appearance: 177cm. Tanned skin, rough hands, muscular legs from her frequent travels. Her standard garb is arranged for outdoor functionality and little else, while her formal attire is plain and consistently wrinkled. Her orange scarf is a permanent accessory outside of formal functions. Makes it easy to spot her in a crowd.

---

𝕊o 𝕆n & 𝕊o 𝔽orth

Reputation: Mannerless and airheaded. Her tone of speech comes off dry, if not condescending. Were it not for her irrefutable service to the family and Carrey’s unlikely fondness for her, Aster would never set foot in noble halls again. Workers directly under her note that she seems more interested in ensuring the quality of the livestock than fraternising with colleagues.

Alignment: Mage. She is a Nols after all. And for all their fanciful toys, the Northerners don’t have the slightest idea how to treat the land or its creatures with the expertise they deserve.

Skills:

- Horseriding and droving (herding). Good with animals.
- Has an uncanny gift for numbers.
- Knows the land better than most. Acquainted with almost every major city, all exceptions lying in the North.
- Crossbow and cavalry sabre proficiency, purely for hunting and fending off bandits. She is hardly an expert in one-to-one combat.

Backstory: House Nols is responsible for ensuring the stability of all forms of trade, and that includes the transportation of livestock. The Ethra Company - led by Ethra Nols, cousin of Esmerelda Nols - oversees this sector. Though railways have been rapidly developing throughout the continent, magic-assisted droving is still the most widely accepted method for moving large numbers of livestock.

Aster is the oldest child of Ethra. Despite her numerous shortcomings, she is somehow both the most intelligent and most socially passable of his three offspring, and therefore leads many of the company’s assignments. This journey began at the age of sixteen, upon the completion of her schooling. Her foundation in mathematics was impeccable and she had the potential for joining the ranks of the Nols economists. But Aster was a restless youth. Without the chains of being a main family heir, she shed all lingering attachments to academia and galloped off into the wide, open world.

Miscellaneous: Her main horse is Keater, named after the popular children’s book ‘The Tale of Keater Hare’, a whimsical story that follows the adventures of a family of anthropomorphic hares.

---

𝕄agic

Gate: Air/Earth. A firm but gentle breeze accompanies Aster and her companions while the ground before them seems to smooth out. Redundant at first, but when their journeys consistently span thousands of kilometres, it assists greatly in the long term.

Flow: Low
Favour: Average
Field: 100m radius

Spirit Wielders! (A roleplay where you sell your soul for powers.)

I guess I'm interested :/

Cardinal Rift - A Fantasy/Sci-fi adventure! [STILL RECRUITING]

Interested! Will make a sheet soon.

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

GEN HOUJOU

---

Tattoos. Scars.

Hair was… captivating. Thuggish. Looked complicated.

She was short. Petite from a distance but almost childlike up close.

Oh yeah, she was also monstrously strong. Gen observed with a weak whimper as his full weight was effortlessly lifted.

She was moving her mouth now, drawling something in English – it was always English here – and Gen understood fluently, but his brain refused to muster a response. Why teeth? And why…

“…Fish?” he repeated dumbly.

Not that it mattered. That’s right, this was pointless! He had to get away from this conversation and away from this freakish girl and all her horrible companions and be as far away from the catastrophes they instigate as possible.

Gen summoned an apologetic smile, placating. He found his footing and he took the hand under his armpit. It was warm, wrapped in layers. Even with his own heated and sweaty palm, he could feel an unnatural energy emanating from her.

His grip was tentative, gentle even, as he pried the girl away in a manner he clearly believed was inoffensive.

"Sumimasen," he muttered out of habit.

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

GEN HOUJOU

---

A month had gone by since the lockdown, an empty and uneventful span of time that Gen very much appreciated. Mundanity was healthy for the heart. Soothing. Being trapped hundreds of kilometres above his home wasn’t going to stop him from establishing some kind of normalcy. Routine was easy when he didn’t have any frien—any colleagues wanting to waste his time.

So Gen studied. He practiced piano. He messaged his mother twice a week.

He exercised.

The latter was a new experience, one brought about by necessity rather than recreational desire. You see, Gen was going to die on The Promise.

It was a conclusion he reached shortly after the lockdown. The security was dismally understaffed and likely undertrained when it came to dealing with the ship’s powered occupants. The occupants themselves…

Gen shuddered. He recalled the Gojira on the first day. The commotion he heard as he passed by the woods area a month ago, a mess he thankfully had the sense to walk away from. Smart move. Less than 24 hours later, the ship went into lockdown.

Hence the frequent trips to the gym. Gen needed to be able to defend himself. Run. Survive. His physical state prior to arrival wasn’t hopeless but there was definitely room for improvement. Currently, he was seven minutes into a jog on the treadmill, working up a decent sweat. Two weeks into the regime and he was starting to feel good about his stamina and, surprisingly, himself.

Then the pyromaniac entered the room.

Gen wished it was ‘surprise’ that flipped his insides, that made his foot land a little too far to the edge of the tread and subsequently invert his entire stride, but it wasn’t. The feeling was closer to petty terror.

A pathetic “gwah!” escaped his mouth before his face planted itself into the tread.

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

Gen Houjou

G E N

_______________________________________________ Gen Zachariah Houjou (宝生 源) _______________________________________________ July 24 | 19 | Japanese/African-American _______________________________________________ Unmarried | ♂ | Demisexual _______________________________________________ Graduated American high school | Student _______________________________________________ Physical Profile ___________________________________ [+] //Basics: • Height | 5'11" • Weight | 170 lbs • Build | Hasn't quite worked off the Freshman 15 yet • Hair Colour | Dark • Eye Colour | Brown Miscellaneous Items ___________________________________ [+] //Every Day Carry: • Phone | Whatever he's reading, it's more interesting than you. • Noise-cancelling headphones | All the better to ignore everyone with.

A p p e a r a n c e D e t a i l s For a Japanese guy, he looks kinda... huh. Certainly not something you'd often see on the streets of Osaka. His height and skin stood out as his most noticeable features back in Japan but among his peers on The Promise, he's just your average joe. His frame was lanky in high school but he has since rounded it out during his time at college. His attire is conservative, showing little skin and generally leaning on the 'smart' side of smart-casual. Collared shirts from notable brands like Uniqlo are his go-to. There's only one aspect of his appearance that is out of the ordinary: the fingerless glove he wears on his left hand.

_{P e r s o n a l i t y}

A cold and angry heart tempered by self-discipline. Gen is well-acquainted with loneliness or to be more precise, self-isolation. The belief that was the black sheep of the family, the liability, deepened into a fact of life after years abroad. He can’t remember ever feeling content with who he is, not when everyone around him shared this sentiment. So he buries himself in routine. It doesn’t particularly matter if things aren’t ‘good’ if being ‘just fine’ is getting him by. Call him bitter if you want. He refuses to let the darkness in him stain his family name. Unlike the others on this ship, he doesn’t let it control him.

He may be a parahuman but he won’t sink to the level of those mongrels in his cohort.

_{C h a r a c t e r S y n o p s i s}

That fucker.

Why did Teruo throw him away like that? Why? Gen knew the reason – he was inferior, he was unwanted - but the frustration still clawed at him with every night in this damned cell. Was it not enough to be the first son? The pure-blooded Houjou heir, the one that had never been ‘at risk’? Gen had nothing for his half-brother that wasn’t already the older boy’s birthright, and yet he…

He still…

…

Typical of both of them. Father didn’t visit even once before it was time to go up. And no matter how much Gen expected it, the disappointment still stung like an open wound.

The men strapped him in, and the engines shook every cell in his being, and Gen felt his head drop back like a ton of bricks.

“Just four years,” he cursed through grit teeth.

_{A b i l i t i e s & S k i l l s}

_//Abilities:

Superhuman Ability | REPULSE

Telekinetic abilities resembling magnetic repulsion. By pressing his palms to an object and selecting it as a ‘pole’, any loose objects in the vicinity are thrown outwards and away from the focal point. The largest object he has moved at present is a full-sized fridge. The force of the repulsion is dependent on the volume of the object chosen as the ‘pole’, which remains in place while the distance travelled by the launched item is relative to its mass. The ability doesn’t affect the air or atmosphere.

Limitation(s) | In order for his ability to activate, Gen needs to have both palms pressed against his target. If something is too small or too weirdly shaped, if he loses his hand or is pinned down, he is powerless. He cannot pick and choose which objects get launched, nor can he control their velocities. The only object he cannot make a pole is his own body. He has to be aware of the object and be physically able to see it to launch it.

Weakness(es) | Gen is still just a normal man. Any bullet or well-thrown punch can take him out. The trajectories of his ability are also very easy to predict once you’re used to them.

_//Skills:

Piano | A typical private school extra-curricular. Plays proficiently but is weak in improvisation.
Studying | He has to live up to the non-existent expectations of him, one way or another.

_{O T H E R}

• A total mama's boy
• REALLY likes ABBA
• Watched Friends and The Simpsons to practice his accent, unnaturally good at quoting both

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

@JunkMail

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

Gen Houjou

G E N

_______________________________________________ Gen Zachariah Houjou (宝生 源) _______________________________________________ July 24 | 19 | Japanese/African-American _______________________________________________ Unmarried | ♂ | Demisexual _______________________________________________ Graduated American high school | Student _______________________________________________ Physical Profile ___________________________________ [+] //Basics: • Height | 5'11" • Weight | 170 lbs • Build | Hasn't quite worked off the Freshman 15 yet • Hair Colour | Dark • Eye Colour | Brown Miscellaneous Items ___________________________________ [+] //Every Day Carry: • Phone | Whatever he's reading, it's more interesting than you. • Noise-cancelling headphones | All the better to ignore everyone with.

A p p e a r a n c e D e t a i l s For a Japanese guy, he looks kinda... huh. Certainly not something you'd often see on the streets of Osaka. His height and skin stood out as his most noticeable features back in Japan but among his peers on The Promise, he's just your average joe. His frame was lanky in high school but he has since rounded it out during his time at college. His attire is conservative, showing little skin and generally leaning on the 'smart' side of smart-casual. Collared shirts from notable brands like Uniqlo are his go-to. There's only one aspect of his appearance that is out of the ordinary: the fingerless glove he wears on his left hand.

_{P e r s o n a l i t y}

A cold and angry heart tempered by self-discipline. Gen is well-acquainted with loneliness or to be more precise, self-isolation. The belief that was the black sheep of the family, the liability, deepened into a fact of life after years abroad. He can’t remember ever feeling content with who he is, not when everyone around him shared this sentiment. So he buries himself in routine. It doesn’t particularly matter if things aren’t ‘good’ if being ‘just fine’ is getting him by. Call him bitter if you want. He refuses to let the darkness in him stain his family name. Unlike the others on this ship, he doesn’t let it control him.

He may be a parahuman but he won’t sink to the level of those mongrels in his cohort.

_{C h a r a c t e r S y n o p s i s}

That fucker.

Why did Teruo throw him away like that? Why? Gen knew the reason – he was inferior, he was unwanted - but the frustration still clawed at him with every night in this damned cell. Was it not enough to be the first son? The pure-blooded Houjou heir, the one that had never been ‘at risk’? Gen had nothing for his half-brother that wasn’t already the older boy’s birthright, and yet he…

He still…

…

Typical of both of them. Father didn’t visit even once before it was time to go up. And no matter how much Gen expected it, the disappointment still stung like an open wound.

The men strapped him in, and the engines shook every cell in his being, and Gen felt his head drop back like a ton of bricks.

“Just four years,” he cursed through grit teeth.

_{A b i l i t i e s & S k i l l s}

_//Abilities:

Superhuman Ability | REPULSE

Telekinetic abilities resembling magnetic repulsion. By pressing his palms to an object and selecting it as a ‘pole’, any loose objects in the vicinity are thrown outwards and away from the focal point. The largest object he has moved at present is a full-sized fridge. The force of the repulsion is dependent on the volume of the object chosen as the ‘pole’, which remains in place while the distance travelled by the launched item is relative to its mass. The ability doesn’t affect the air or atmosphere.

Limitation(s) | In order for his ability to activate, Gen needs to have both palms pressed against his target. If something is too small or too weirdly shaped, if he loses his hand or is pinned down, he is powerless. He cannot pick and choose which objects get launched, nor can he control their velocities. The only object he cannot make a pole is his own body. He has to be aware of the object and be physically able to see it to launch it.

Weakness(es) | Gen is still just a normal man. Any bullet or well-thrown punch can take him out. The trajectories of his ability are also very easy to predict once you’re used to them.

_//Skills:

Piano | A typical private school extra-curricular. Plays proficiently but is weak in improvisation.
Studying | He has to live up to the non-existent expectations of him, one way or another.

_{O T H E R}

• A total mama's boy
• REALLY likes ABBA
• Watched Friends and The Simpsons to practice his accent, unnaturally good at quoting both