Blizz

Pariah

Hammer Time

🎶"When your duty calls, you all will be standing tall 'cause the end of the day will hold victory! Hold your heads up high! Stand your ground and unify! If you never surrender, you will never fall! "🎶

Name | Omar Fonseca

Alias | Vanguard

Age | 43

Gender | Male - He/Him

Appearance | Omar is what the kids these days call an "absolute fucking unit." He is exactly six feet tall, with more dark red hair than a lion, and more muscle than most people can manage in their lifetime. There isn't much to mention regarding Omar's appearance, he's just everyone's favorite neighborhood bear in human form.

Notoriety | Noble

Danger Level / Variant Type | Class 2 / Volatile, Agile

Abilities | Vanguard has the power to increase or subtract the kinetic energy of anything he touches, up to 200% or down to 1%. This ability requires him to physically touch whatever he wants to affect, and he often uses it to augment his movement to make himself, or his armor and hammer, move with more power. Vanguard's powers only actively work while he is touching something, meaning while he can move exceptionally fast or slow a speeding car to a fraction of its velocity, he cannot throw and object and make it retain its amplified momentum. Once it leaves his hand, it will lose speed the way an object normally would, though with an added kick from his powers.

[Gear]
Attire |

Armament / Equipment |

Orion-5 | One of, if not the very first official suits of mechanical armor the world has ever seen. Built by Vanguard, the Orion-5 is the fifth iteration of his personal exosuit, and is made to accommodate the use of his variant abilities. Vanguard built the Orion for the purpose of being a tank with legs wherever he goes, and while it isn't armed with weapons, enhanced sensors, or movement features, it soaks up damage like a sponge. It stands at roughly 6 feet and 5 inches tall, and weighs over a ton.

The Final Judgement | Weighing roughly 170 pounds, the Final Judgement is a mechanized warhammer built by Vanguard, and is designed to be used with the Orion-5. It isn't very special compared to everything else he makes, but it does have a series of rotating gyroscopes built into it which make it feel near weightless to Vanguard. The grip of the weapon is built with special, minimal-surface area metamaterial plating that rotates underneath to power the balancing system, which are sped up or sped down by the use of Vanguard's power when in the Orion suit. This is managed by two kinetic catalyzers that absorb impacts and converts them into an electrical current. It is likely the most technologically advanced bludgeoning instrument New Haven has ever witnessed.

Imperator GT-3 | The Imperator model is built for use by MAD agents. They increase the physical output of an operator's movements, from punches to running, and are equipped with IF and night vision sensors. Every agent authorized to operate an armor model built by Vanguard, is trained by him for its use, and is handed a security key that allows them access to their designated suit. These are adjustable from the inside, and link to a universal radio channel so that all Imperator agents can communicate with each other during deployment. These are lightweight, and built to withstand direct assault from weapons, explosives or anything a Volatile might throw at them.

Navigator HS-12 | Navigator suits are designed for MAD agents entering hazardous environments. Due to the unpredictable nature of Variants, the Navigator model is built for modularity. Its armor can be changed to fit any circumstance from extreme temperatures, electrical hazards or corrosive acid to some Distortionist effects. These are meant to protect an operator above all else, and therefore offer nothing for combat. Anti-ballistic armor is available for the Navigator, but the model doesn't increase the effective power of its user. However, the model can potentially be outfitted for low weight if the situation allows for it.

Phantom CO-9 | The Phantom model is specialized for stealth and recon. It is the smallest of the models in Vanguard’s system, and is equipped with agility-enhancing modules as well as a range of sensory-jamming internals. Phantom suits can completely evade virtually any mundane form of detection from IF to radar, and even project an invisibility field. Due to the extreme burden of the cloaking field, the Phantom’s hands and feet are equipped with piezoelectric shock absorbers beneath radar-jamming plating, which provides energy to the suit’s energy core whenever an impact occurs. It currently doesn't offer anything that can hide it from Mentalists that have enhanced sensory powers, so MAD agents operating a Phantom need to be careful.

[Temperament & Lifestyle]

Affiliation | N.O.V.A.

Occupation/Trade | Noble Variant, Power Suit Engineer

Skills / Talents

• PhD in mechanical engineering
• Shreds an electric guitar like he invented it
• Melee combat expert
• Great at cooking

Family |

• Ramón Fonseca - Father
• Silvia Fonseca - Mother

Background |

Omar was born in Columbia, in the year 2037. When he was a child, his family moved to the United States for work reasons. His father was a software engineer who helped develop the AIs that piloted vehicles, and his mother was a doctor. From a young age, Omar was fascinated by technology and aspired to follow in his father's footsteps, he attended college to become an engineer, but he did not become the same engineer as his father. In the early 2060s, the most important technological advances in the country were drones and wearable technology. These were things that Omar hadn't studied in college. His knowledge suited heavy machinery instead. Mr. and Mrs. Fonseca always encouraged their son to push past challenges that came his way, and Omar was never one to give up. Omar, then, turned to a place that always needed all the engineers it could get, the US Army at the age of 24.

For the next 5 years, Omar worked in a military base, developing, researching, and manufacturing improvements to the current state of technology. He eventually led a project to design exoskeletons meant to assist troops in deployment. The designs were skeletal, and barely offered any protection compared to the enhanced strength they gave their wearers. Omar argued extensively with others that the suits needed to be made with protection in mind, but the army didn't want tanks on legs. They wanted better performance. When he was spending time on the exosuits soldiers were outfitted with, Omar was experimenting with ideas of his own for suits that didn't just output better strength, but provided solid protection. He filled entire notebooks full of theoretical designs for experimental, mechanized armor that completely encased its user, but from a logistical standpoint, he could never justify the use to his superiors. Less vulnerability for a single soldier wasn't worth the resources that would be needed, even if they could make thousands with their budget.

Omar's life was changed during an accident during a test run of an upgraded exosuit. The research team integrated bi-metal springs into joints that could hold 200 pounds of force before being compressed fully. There were concerns that the weight required was too much, but the operator testing its movement seemed to be unbothered. That was, until a spring snapped and sent a 53 pound arm brace, made of solid steel, flying across the room fast enough to go clean through a tank. Omar happened to be directly in its path, and managed to shield his face just in time for the object to simply fall to the floor as if Omar had dropped it. No one was harmed in the end, but when the researches looked at the recording they captured, they noticed that the accidental projectile had its momentum completely arrested when it made contact with Omar's hand. He hadn't noticed at the time, but apparently he caused it to stop moving so fast. An assistant helped him recreate what they saw on a more harmless scale. They grabbed a spare ball bearing, roughly the size of a tennis ball, and rolled it across the floor. Omar placed his hand on the floor so it would just barely brush past the ball, and it stopped dead. They concluded that Omar was a Variant. Given his age, he was likely part of the first generation of Variants.

Word of this discovery reached the people in charge of the project, who reported Omar's Variance to their superiors, and Omar was discharged from service. Everyone he worked with wished him good luck in moving on, and after a few months of experimenting with the new powers he discovered, Omar had a plan. In the year 2068, a 2-ton giant emerged in New Haven under the name Vanguard. Immediately after his arrival, he started rounding up villainous superhumans and throwing them at the doorstep of the local authorities. The city was more than surprised to see a Variant in possession of such machinery, and agents of N.O.V.A. quickly found the mechanical titan on the streets. They questioned him extensively, asking where he got the suit, where he came from, even what his name was, which he answered with, "My name is Vanguard." The agents who spoke to him told him that, since he was a "heroic" Variant that seemed to have incredible skill with technology, that the relatively new organization called M.A.D. could benefit greatly from his skill. Vanguard avoided the Glorious Alliance due to the way they operated behind the scenes, but he quickly set to work arming the MADmen with mechanized armor. He even went as far as to get everything under patents to prevent malicious use of his designs. 12 years later, Vanguard is one of the oldest, and in his opinion, most respected Nobles in New Haven, running an entire hangar bay full of what he calls his "Ironclads" for MAD agents to take into battle.

Pariah

7pm. Closing time.

Zahariel would take care of that, so while his boss was locking up, Shawn watered everything that needed water, made sure everything was put up, grabbed the tiny backpack he carried things in, and ducked his head out the door.

”Later, bossman!” He said as the door closed behind him. He tossed his bag over his shoulders and made his way towards Brigitte. It was a cloudy evening in New Haven, and it looked like it was going to rain soon. Shawn didn’t pack an umbrella, so he’d have to hurry. As he trotted down the sidewalks of the city, he saw police cars fly past. Someone he passed mentioned a fire over their phone. That worried Shawn. It couldn’t have been good.

”Okay, detour.” Shawn quickly ducked into an alley and sped down far enough that no one would see him, and pulled something from his jacket. A pack of cigarettes and a flip lighter. He lit one up and let the power flow through his lungs.

---

Rooftop after rooftop, Grassbones flung himself in the direction of the cars, barely touching the ground long enough to correct his course. He recognized those Variants running in the opposite direction of the smoke. Flea. That jumpy little son of a bitch stole his lighter once. Graphite would’ve taken the longest to deal with, being a Brute himself, and Grassbones wasn’t touching Noxia with a ten foot pole unless he had to.

When they split, Grassbones made a mental note of which direction Flea and Noxia went, and opted to chase down Graphite and Ruby. Those two stopped, and Grassbones recognized the person in front of them. Good old Sear, busting their chops like it was daycare. She looked like she had this covered, but the cops were on their way, and Sear was the kind of woman who gave Pariah Underground a good name, at least in his eyes. People like that deserved to be looked out for.

And so, like a 25-pound cloud, Grassbones dropped down into the alley, landing right on top of the very angry Variant named Ruby. Grassbones was surprisingly light for someone who was an actual person, so Ruby would’ve been fine. Though, having 25 pounds dropped on their body from atop a building still hurt. In the dim light of the alley, smoke rolling off of his body was hard to see, but the glow of the cigarette between his teeth gave him away. A skeleton dressed in a cargo vest, sweatpants and slip-on shoes, as if battle-readiness came secondary to comfort for him.

He looked over his shoulder towards Sear, and it genuinely looked like he smiled, despite not having facial muscles. ”Hey, Sear. Been a while. Staying outta trouble?” He jokes. Grassbones had a voice like a blender. Gravelly and airy. He turned and looked at the bag stuck to a wall by a knife, and then to Ruby and Graphite.

”Didn’t your parents ever tell you it’s dangerous to play with fire and chemicals?” He brought his bony hands up and gave his knuckles a nice crack. ”Cops’re comin’ any second, Sparky. Lemme help you wrap this up.”

Pariah

you already know what the fuck 'boutta happen

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

---

The voice that Shirik heard was of a Tekeri, apparently. She was dressed rather well, and had the put-togetherness of a low noble. By her appearance, the burning being could tell who she was. Shirik studied the Tekeri's presence for a moment. Groomed feathers, unbothered body language, and yet she didn't look like a noblewoman. There didn't seem to be a weapon in her hands, but she could've been a mage if Shirik's assumption was correct.

After a long pause, they finally broke the silence. "You are from the Ascendancy." They said, more for the sake of implying it was obvious than asking. Their voice was like sandpaper against wet stone, yet distinctly resembled that of an Iriad of great age. "It is unwise to stalk someone. Dangerous, in fact." Those eyes were incapable of expressing emotion like other creatures, but it was not difficult to perceive that Shirik did not appreciate the sudden intrusion. Still, someone followed Shirik this far for a reason, and they knew it would be easy to fend off someone such as this, who had no weapon or was actively attacking them.

Whoever this woman was, they weren't a simple bandit. The Ascendancy did not send people after specific individuals for nothing. "...Sit." They said, agreeing to the woman's request.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

---

The night was coming, and the air was growing colder. Shirik had left the town of Ertiseda a few hours ago, having stopped to rest and check their map. The usual odd looks and skittish trepidation had been expected, but Shirik was just lucky they stayed dry after the talk with that innkeeper back in town. Stars began to come out as the distant moon soon would rise into the sky. Shirik had been all over the world of Kanth-Aramek by now, but the mountains were always a sight to behold. Even in the quiet company of an eternal flame, they felt at home when they could travel from place to place. Shirik threw their hood overhead as the sky began to darken. It was easier to travel at night when they didn't glow as brightly.

It had been a very long time since Shirik first emerged from that cave, since they became a new person altogether. Since then, their life became much simpler than their days in the Iriad. Walking from place to place and lending a burning hand to those who could benefit from it, and resting for the sake of quiet contemplation were most of what Shirk did. They had considered going to the Ascendancy to make a life there, but that was a decision that they never made. Shirik took a turn off the regular road, and made their way up the mountains into the woods. They were always so peaceful at night.

In one hand, Shirik held a staff made of wood and small stones of various origins. It was part walking stick, for trekking through unexplored places, and part magic instrument, for when Shirik needed it. In the growing gloom of the forest, Shirik glowed like a warm candle. Anyone following them would be able to track them easily if they paid attention, as they had their guard down enough to let the flames do as they pleased under the cloak they wore. Eventually, Shirik came to an open spot between the trees, a meadow of undisturbed grass and flowers atop a peak overlooking a valley beneath. Not a sound could be heard, and overlooking Shirik's surroundings was a cloudless, black sky glittering with stars and the moon of Kanth-Aramek. It was a beautiful night, and it was quiet.

Shirik liked quiet.

Shirik lowered their hood, and walked to the edge of the cliff they stood over, breathing in the night air. The flames that seeped from under their skin seemed to settle and burn more gently at the sight of the sky. There were many things that irritated Shirik, and many things that pushed them into a jagged mindset all too easily these days, after the things they endured. Anyone who had to fight and claw their way to survival had a short fuse. But it was evenings like these, so peaceful and wonderous, that reminded Shirik that they were still here in the present. Life had moved on, and they were there to catch up with it. They were alive. Shirik bent down and sat on the ground, with a tree at their back. On their right was the moon, and on the left was the path they took up here. Shirik's cloak had come open, and yet the forest was untouched by the fire that rolled against their skin when they touched the forest floor. They shut their eyes, and let everything fall away. Twere at peace.

At least, they were until they heard a twig snap behind them.

Shirik's left arm shot upwards, pointing straight in the direction of the sound, as they made a gesture with their hand. Ring finger curled inward, thumb pointed to the ground, with their remaining fingers pointing outwards in a trident shape. Suddenly, a streak of brilliant sparks was sent in the direction that their middle finger was facing, splattering against a nearby tree. Oddly enough however, the tree was completely unharmed. Not even a trace of singed bark, as if nothing happened. The rest of Shirik's body had stayed completely still until after this spell was cast, at which point they turned their head to face whatever had followed them, their eyes flickered like glowing coals from a furnace in the moonlight.

"Show yourself."

Young Justice

Stormcaller

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| NAME |

Cora Danvers aka Stormcaller

| AGE |

17

| MENTOR |

Wonder Woman

| DESIGNATION |

Y15

| APPEARANCE |

Cora’s around 5”7’, and built like a streetlight. She’s very willowy and doesn’t have a lot of mass to her. Some of the more standout features about her is the fact that her eyes are solid blue- no pupils or irises, just a constant shade of blue. Her hair is white as snow, and she has a rather ugly looking patch of burnt skin on her face. Cora often dresses for summer days, even when it’s actually warm out. Cardigans, sweatpants and sweaters are virtually everything she wears. She sometimes has some heavy makeup on to cover the side of her face, but often doesn’t bother. Cora's hands and wrists have a lot of faint burn marks from extensive use of her powers. There are other faint traces of this all over her body, but it's mostly insignificant. As Stormcaller, her hero costume consists of a blue wool coat she found at a flea market, paired with some thick gloves and a white helmet. She wears boots to land on the ground easier. It's awfully warm, but it looks cool.

| BIO |

Cora lived an uneventful life for many years, raised by her parents in Port Orange, Florida by the ocean. As a kid, Cora was fascinated by heroes like the Justice League, and often dreamed of being like them. Despite this, Cora wasn't exactly a special child. She had no magical relatives to speak of, and she didn't stumble upon any fancy alien weapon that gave her special powers, so Cora's chances at being a hero were slim to none. This didn't deter her from reading constantly about them online. There wasn't a lot to find ultimately, but it still had an impact on her interests as a kid. Cora's parents wanted the best for their daughter, so they pushed her to do good in school and leave the "cape stuff" to the real heroes. They meant well, but it didn't really matter in the end. Cora was lucky enough to have a good relationship with her parents even if they were a little more pragmatic than she was.

During her time in school, Cora also had a fascination with space. Whether or not this had to do with the fact that at least one big time superhero or two was from space was something Cora couldn't answer herself. Sometimes she dreamed about being an astronaut or a NASA scientist, but she put those thoughts in the same box as being a member of the Justice League- Unrealistic goals that she needed to avoid if she wanted to get anywhere in life. Despite the occasional extravagant aspiration, there was never anything special about Cora's life. She was always just another face in the crowd, just another unsubstantial human being who would go on to do normal things.

At least, she was before the storm happened.

Cora decided to stay after school for a while to talk with some friends, and therefore went home later than usual. Her parents told her not to stay out too long since the weather was supposed to be bad that day. Cora made her way home when she heard the thunder start. A few minutes later, it started raining heavily, and Cora had neither an umbrella nor a car. By the time she was close to home, the weather was bad enough that Cora was soaked to the bone, and every clap of thunder lit the ground up like it was daytime. She was only five minutes away from her front door when she was knocked unconscious by something.

When Cora woke up hours later, she was surrounded by doctors monitoring everything about her. Her heart, her breathing, even her blood pressure. Her entire body felt like it was on fire, especially her face. Once Cora took in her surroundings, she could smell something burning as well. The doctors told her that she was discharging bolts of lightning into the room like a broken generator. She looked in a mirror and saw that her hair was slowly turning white and that her eyes were completely blue. None of it made sense until a spark appeared between her fingers, and then another, and another still. The doctors told Cora that she was struck by lightning, and somehow survived. Statistically, most people who get struck by lightning end up surviving with various health problems after. In some cases, the victims had to relearn how to walk, but Cora was virtually unharmed compared to other lightning strike victims, and them could do what she could

She was released from the hospital the next morning, when her parents took her home. They talked for hours about what happened to her. She still felt pain all over her body, but Cora was ultimately fine. Their biggest concern was the fact that Cora had superpowers now, and what it meant for her. Apparently when she was asleep in the hospital, she zapped everything around her and made medical equipment act funny, so they were nervous about her being at home. Cora, however, didn't seem scared at all. She told them that she had nothing to be afraid of, since she was literally hit by a bolt of lightning and survived it. What could be worse than that? Having more or less put their worries to rest, Cora spent a few weeks experimenting with her newfound powers, going as far as to learn how to float. Neither her nor her parents ever figured out how to stop her from making electronics in the house act weird, but they never stopped working either, so it wasn't a huge concern.

Word of the girl who could shoot lightning from her fingers eventually reached the Justice League, who sent none other than Wonder Woman herself to see what was going on. When she found Cora, she was blasting glass bottles to pieces in blinding flashes of light. Wonder Woman talked to Cora and her parents about her joining a team of heroes her age, explaining that people could come looking for Cora to exploit a power as destructive as hers, and that she needed a proper environment to explore her potential. Her parents were reluctant to send her all the way to Rhode Island, but Wonder Woman made a compelling point. The wrong people would hear about her eventually, and Cora needed to learn how to use that power of hers before she blew something up by accident. During her visit, Wonder Woman asked Cora to demonstrate her powers, and when she blocked all the lightning Cora could throw at her with only a sword, her parents were assured that she'd be in safe hands. So, after a long back and forth, and a week to prepare for the trip, Mr. and Mrs. Danvers shipped their daughter off to the other end of the country.

| ABILITIES / SKILLS / EQUIPMENT |

Electrokinesis - After the incident that gave Cora her powers, Cora has been able to produce an electrical current out of thin air, with enough power to zap something up to roughly 20 feet away. There doesn’t seem to be any inherent well of power that she draws from, so Cora can supposedly zap things for as long as she wants. Her body produces the electricity out of thin air, which she freely manipulates by thinking about them going from point A, herself, to whatever point B is. This can be used to power something, burn something, or simply make something stop moving. It’s also pretty bright, so bring eye protection!

Heart of the Storm - It turns out that being struck by lightning has a way of toughening someone up, because Cora seems to be entirely unbothered by high voltage. Her body absorbs current and then simply fizzles it out like a black hole. She could stick both hands inside a transformer and she might not even realize it was on. Unfortunately, Cora cannot soak up electricity to give herself any sort of boost, but anyone else using current as a weapon, such as a taser, wouldn’t be much of an issue.

Ionic Levitation - Cora recently discovered that she can weakly magnetize herself in such a way that she behaves like a “north” to the planet’s “south.” She can partially ignore gravity doing this, resulting in her floating just barely off of the ground, or gently falling like a feather from high up. This isn’t quite the same as Superman flying through the clouds, but if Cora could get a running start, she could float from one rooftop to the other with ease. Doing this, however, very quickly results in Cora frying herself, which means extensive use of her levitation is rather painful.

| LIMITATIONS |

Electrons are Weird - Cora's abilities only work on electricity that she creates herself, which only exists when she's thinking about it, or if it's stored in something like a battery. This means that Cora cannot do anything with electricity that she doesn't create out of thin air herself, and is therefore always vulnerable to hurting herself anytime she uses her powers.

Burnout- Despite being unaffected by ordinary electricity, Cora is still vulnerable to her own powers. When electrons pass through something, they create friction, which tends to burn things up. This is why things start smoking if they get overloaded, and why Cora can't simply blast everything with lightning with zero disregard for, well, anything. There is the obvious fact that lightning hurts other people, and that she needs to be careful not to hit a friendly, but intense use of Cora's powers results in her own body taking damage. Her skin starts to burn first, and eventually her hands could go numb. In more severe cases, Cora's muscles begin to stop working correctly, which can present a whole sweep of problems ranging from short-term paralysis to severe diaphragm spasms.

| WEAKNESSES |

Interference - In situations where stealth matters, Cora causes problem just by existing. Some electronics in her vicinity, up to roughly 100 feet away, tend to respond to her presence in weird ways. Screens get a little brighter, speakers tend to emit sounds that have no origin, and Cora has even agitated the occasional plasma ball from time to time. Anything that has some sort of shielding against electrical interference would be unbothered by this, and it ultimately doesn't do anything to actually harm electronics, but the problem is that someone with an unprotected electronic device has an environmental cue that announces Cora's presence. Cora has no way of turning this effect off, meaning she's almost guaranteed to blow her own cover depending on the situation. Getting the drop on someone depends on whether or not they're looking at they're phone or if they know to look for weirdness in electronics.

Just Some Kid - Cora is not the Chosen One. She is not the Dragonborn, the child they once spoke of in ancient prophecies, or the long-lost daughter of a god. She's an ordinary girl with big dreams. She may have her head on straight, but she's only had her powers for a little over a month, and frankly? She doesn't know her ass from the sharp end of a batarang. Cora can't be counted on to deal with the bad guys without backup because she's yet to be properly trained for it. She hasn't explored the true potential of her powers, she hasn't developed a pain tolerance to frying her skin, and she definitely doesn't have the reflexes or skill to fight someone hand-to-hand. By all accounts, the Young Justice Initiative is where Cora's origin story truly begins. She needs all the help she can get, and to an extent, Cora is dependent on others until she trains to a level where she can take care of herself.

| NOTES |

Cora smells like TV static. Don’t ask her why.

Cora's theme song is called Space Filled with Ether

Cora's family had a boat when she was growing up. She's a bit of a nerd when it comes to things related to boats. If you call a certain part of a boat the wrong thing, like calling the stern the "back" of the boat, she'll correct you almost immediately.

Her color code 00ffff

Relationships

"Okay. PLEASE tell me she's got rubber in her brain or something! Great now I'm gonna make my friends sick."



“How on god's green fucking earth does he do the one with his thumb?!”



"I think the fuck not. Thank you very much.



“She's pretty cool. Then again all the cool girls have white hair these days. Heh... Is it rude if I eat fish around her?"



“Uhhh. Which one is the scary one again? ”



“She sounds really nice... I wish I could meet her.”

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

LOCAL TREE LITERALLY TOO ANGRY TO DIE

"If the gods wanted me to die, then they didn't try hard enough." 🎶"In the mist of the morning a winter's day came a man in robe from far away. Out of ashes and clay of the magic vale, 'cause sorrow sails on the Warlock's trail."🎶

Species

Shirik is an Iriad, despite their appearance. They do not have the same biological functions as a typical Iriad, but they are still a plantlike being nonetheless. They've been changed by magic, and now consider themself something else.

Appearance

Most Iriad are willowy creatures with skin for bark and leaves for "hair." Shirik's body, however, is charred black and caked with ashes that never seem to disappear. What was once branches that stemmed from their body are now jagged stumps that smoke with dried tree sap, and their bark-like skin as peeled away in some places to reveal an exterior beneath. Like metal armor, Shirik's skin is merely an outer shell that conceals a roaring, crackling inferno underneath, which seeps out through their joints. If the Iriad as a people are a forest, then Shirik is a tree burned black from the inside out by a wildfire.

Magical Affiliation

Shirik is a heat mage down to their very core. Literally.

Occupation

TBA

Key Skills

• Heat Domain Mastery - As someone who is roughly a thousand years old, Shirik may as well have wrote the book on the heat domain. They're a master at it, to the point that Shirik is sustained by fire. They do not even need to eat food because of their affinity for magic.
• Survival - Geography, foraging, navigation, and even tracking. Shirik has travelled a lot over the years and therefore picked up such skills overtime. They know how to figure out the quickest or safest course to a destination, or what is and isn't edible.
• Wisdom of Travel - Having been all over Kanth-Aramek, Shirik has visited every major city, learned every language, and explored the ruins of virtually every important thing on the planet. If a word needs translation, Shirik can provide. If someone needs to know what to not do to offend a certain population, just ask Shirik. If there is a question of history not written in the books, Shirik may have the answer.

Backstory

One thousand years ago, Shirik lived in the Myriad among their people. The forest was untouched by the outside world for as long as the sun had risen and was as old as the sea. Everything changed when the Empire set fire to the great cities. Shirk watched the S'Tor soldiers light the first sparks, and was consumed by the blaze in minutes. As the fire rolled against their skin, and pain took over, Shirk could only see light. And they saw it through a hundred billion embers that became a hundred billion eyes.

Every fraction of warmth rippled through the trees like waves across an ocean, travelling an endless distance before a collision determined by fate, only to join into a greater flame. From the smallest traces of what was at one point an unchanged thing could because an effigy of the very thing by which creation was facilitated. The flame gives, and the flame takes. That was the lesson instilled in Shirik over the course of a length of time they could not have quantified. The light of the infernos were blinding, and the heat consumed everything that it touched. Everything except Shirik. They experienced an awakening, so real and profound that they entered a state of uninterrupted meditation. All Iriads could hibernate, but to do so while being burned alive was... Simply indescribable.

The fire gives. The fire takes. The fire gives. The fire takes. The fire gives. The fire takes. The fire gives. The fire-

When they finally woke up, what was once a boundless horizon of green and brown was little more than a shriveled plain of ash and dead wood. The moon was obscured by smoke, and the only light was from Shirik's body. They felt absolutely nothing of the pain they felt before, but Shirik felt alive. Flames rolled from their body, and after the smallest movement of their hands, the flames reacted. Shirik was no longer the same person. When they found their people, they could not engage them safely. Fire exploded from their finger tips with every motion, and so Shirik had to leave or risk endangering the Myriad further. Their mind was an endless storm of rage, pain and confusion, and Shirik's own people could not stay safe in their presence.

Shirik left, and travelled to a far, distant part of Kanth-Aramek, where they would spend the next 600 years learning to understand their newfound power. Endless sessions of meditation to heal their wounded mind, endless hours spent harnessing the unfaltering blaze that bonded with them, and prolonging of their lifespan through hibernation helped to calm Shirik. They learned how to make the fire bend to their will, but their perception of time became a blur. To them, it only felt like a few years had passed, but it was actually centuries of isolation. Once they felt ready to step back into the world, Shirik was met with talks of something called magic in the new age they had lived to experience. Others were beginning to understand the things that Shirik had been exposed to centuries before. This was a time when Shirik was not an outlier by their presence, but by their own skill... They could work with that.

For the next 400 years, Shirik caught up with the world, learning about the gaps in history that they missed, travelling to the cities now forgotten by the Kolodon Empire, and left to fend for themselves, and meeting others who had been opened to the power of magic. This was not the same world they lived in once, Shirik was a living relic from the past now, but there was something waiting for them all this time, given to them long before the world was ready for it. All they had to do was walk forward and find a place in it. Their place, however, never stayed in one spot. Shirik travelled all across Kanth-Aramek in search of wisdom and understanding, and learned much about what the world was catching up on. They've been thinking about paying a visit to the Ascendency to apply their skill with the heat domain, but a star fell from the sky, and so a change of plans was in order.

Something was about to happen, and Shirik was going to be a part of it.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

LOCAL TREE LITERALLY TOO ANGRY TO DIE

"If the gods wanted me to die, then they didn't try hard enough." 🎶"In the mist of the morning a winter's day came a man in robe from far away. Out of ashes and clay of the magic vale, 'cause sorrow sails on the Warlock's trail."🎶

Species

Shirik is an Iriad, despite their appearance. They do not have the same biological functions as a typical Iriad, but they are still a plantlike being nonetheless. They've been changed by magic, and now consider themself something else.

Appearance

Most Iriad are willowy creatures with skin for bark and leaves for "hair." Shirik's body, however, is charred black and caked with ashes that never seem to disappear. What was once branches that stemmed from their body are now jagged stumps that smoke with dried tree sap, and their bark-like skin as peeled away in some places to reveal an exterior beneath. Like metal armor, Shirik's skin is merely an outer shell that conceals a roaring, crackling inferno underneath, which seeps out through their joints. If the Iriad as a people are a forest, then Shirik is a tree burned black from the inside out by a wildfire.

Magical Affiliation

Shirik is a heat mage down to their very core. Literally.

Occupation

TBA

Key Skills

• Heat Domain Mastery - As someone who is roughly a thousand years old, Shirik may as well have wrote the book on the heat domain. They're a master at it, to the point that Shirik is sustained by fire. They do not even need to eat food because of their affinity for magic.
• Survival - Geography, foraging, navigation, and even tracking. Shirik has travelled a lot over the years and therefore picked up such skills overtime. They know how to figure out the quickest or safest course to a destination, or what is and isn't edible.
• Wisdom of Travel - Having been all over Kanth-Aramek, Shirik has visited every major city, learned every language, and explored the ruins of virtually every important thing on the planet. If a word needs translation, Shirik can provide. If someone needs to know what to not do to offend a certain population, just ask Shirik. If there is a question of history not written in the books, Shirik may have the answer.

Backstory

One thousand years ago, Shirik lived in the Myriad among their people. The forest was untouched by the outside world for as long as the sun had risen and was as old as the sea. Everything changed when the Empire set fire to the great cities. Shirk watched the S'Tor soldiers light the first sparks, and was consumed by the blaze in minutes. As the fire rolled against their skin, and pain took over, Shirk could only see light. And they saw it through a hundred billion embers that became a hundred billion eyes.

Every fraction of warmth rippled through the trees like waves across an ocean, travelling an endless distance before a collision determined by fate, only to join into a greater flame. From the smallest traces of what was at one point an unchanged thing could because an effigy of the very thing by which creation was facilitated. The flame gives, and the flame takes. That was the lesson instilled in Shirik over the course of a length of time they could not have quantified. The light of the infernos were blinding, and the heat consumed everything that it touched. Everything except Shirik. They experienced an awakening, so real and profound that they entered a state of uninterrupted meditation. All Iriads could hibernate, but to do so while being burned alive was... Simply indescribable.

The fire gives. The fire takes. The fire gives. The fire takes. The fire gives. The fire takes. The fire gives. The fire-

When they finally woke up, what was once a boundless horizon of green and brown was little more than a shriveled plain of ash and dead wood. The moon was obscured by smoke, and the only light was from Shirik's body. They felt absolutely nothing of the pain they felt before, but Shirik felt alive. Flames rolled from their body, and after the smallest movement of their hands, the flames reacted. Shirik was no longer the same person. When they found their people, they could not engage them safely. Fire exploded from their finger tips with every motion, and so Shirik had to leave or risk endangering the Myriad further. Their mind was an endless storm of rage, pain and confusion, and Shirik's own people could not stay safe in their presence.

Shirik left, and travelled to a far, distant part of Kanth-Aramek, where they would spend the next 600 years learning to understand their newfound power. Endless sessions of meditation to heal their wounded mind, endless hours spent harnessing the unfaltering blaze that bonded with them, and prolonging of their lifespan through hibernation helped to calm Shirik. They learned how to make the fire bend to their will, but their perception of time became a blur. To them, it only felt like a few years had passed, but it was actually centuries of isolation. Once they felt ready to step back into the world, Shirik was met with talks of something called magic in the new age they had lived to experience. Others were beginning to understand the things that Shirik had been exposed to centuries before. This was a time when Shirik was not an outlier by their presence, but by their own skill... They could work with that.

For the next 400 years, Shirik caught up with the world, learning about the gaps in history that they missed, travelling to the cities now forgotten by the Kolodon Empire, and left to fend for themselves, and meeting others who had been opened to the power of magic. This was not the same world they lived in once, Shirik was a living relic from the past now, but there was something waiting for them all this time, given to them long before the world was ready for it. All they had to do was walk forward and find a place in it. Their place, however, never stayed in one spot. Shirik travelled all across Kanth-Aramek in search of wisdom and understanding, and learned much about what the world was catching up on. They've been thinking about paying a visit to the Ascendency to apply their skill with the heat domain, but a star fell from the sky, and so a change of plans was in order.

Something was about to happen, and Shirik was going to be a part of it.

Pariah

Grassbones

🎶"I-I-I got this feeling in my soul, go ahead and throw your stones, 'cause there's magic in my bones!"🎶

Name | Shawn Raymond

Alias | Grassbones

Age | Late 20s, allegedly

Gender | Male - He/Him

Appearance | No one has seen the face behind the mask... Not that he actually wears a mask, because he doesn't need to. Grassbones is a skeleton that emits smoke from the surface of his body, and seeps through the clothes he wears. He looks to be on the short side. Despite the fact that Grassbones doesn’t have eyes, you can tell when he’s staring right through you. And despite not having any facial muscles, he somehow manages to articulate emotions as if he still looked like a living person. It’s… unsettling. Due to the fact that no one has ever seen Grassbones wearing skin, some people have theorized that he's just a particularly unlucky Variant who was born without it.

Notoriety | Indistinct

Danger Level / Variant Type | Class 3 / Metamorphic, Brute, and Agile

Abilities | Grassbones transforms into a skeleton using smoke he has inhaled. His lungs are essentially a gas tank that store the fumes of anything that burns, such as a burning building or a cigarette. In this state, his body becomes absurdly durable, to the point that he could fall from the top of a skyscraper and land like a cloud. In his skeletal state, Grassbones also demonstrates a degree of super strength, enough that he could lift a car over his head. A side effect of this is that Grassbones has a natural inclination to bursts of agility capable of propelling him over rooftops. Grassbones uses these combined powers to throw himself directly into the line of fire of a dangerous situation with little regard for his own safety. He is exceptionally skilled at fighting with his hands and feet in a way that allows him to stay in constant motion. A backflip done by Grassbones could quickly turn into a kick to the ribs followed by a punch to the face without stopping the motion. This is how he fights, but a strange quirk of his powers is that Grassbones has no idea how to recreate these moves outside of his skeletal form. Even when he has skin and muscles, he doesn't have the muscle memory to pull it off.

The trick to dealing with Grassbones is fighting him at range and limiting his movement. Grassbones' powers do nothing to let him fight someone from a distance without closing the gap, and if he can't move, then he can't throw a punch. A simple way of exploiting this is to constantly hit him with some sort of blow that shoves him in one direction, such as a telekinetic blast or an explosion. While these wouldn't harm him, they keep him from moving freely, therefore limiting what he could do to fight back.

[Gear]
Attire | Outside of the vigilante life, Shawn is always wearing something baggy, like a hoodie or cargo pants... He's very fashionable.

Armament / Equipment | Grassbones' hero costume looks like something the average individual would wear on a walk down the street. The pockets of his vest contain more than one lighter and more than a few packs of cigarettes. He doesn't need a mask or any kind of weapon because his power transforms him into something that fills the need for both. He also carries an e-vap or two for whenever he's in a tight spot.

[Temperament & Lifestyle]

Affiliation | Independent

Personality/Habits | The free-spirited vigilante always has a cool and level attitude. Grassbones likes to take the path of least resistance, to the point of almost being outright lazy, but just enough that problems are don't stem from a lack of a serious attitude. Anyone who interacts with him knows he can be somewhat flighty, and acts like his head is in the clouds. Grassbones is always a very mellow guy to be around, and it’s easy to mistake Grassbones for just a helpless vigilante who has no idea what he’s doing, and isn’t taking the role seriously, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. What he lacks in decorum, Grassbones makes up for in comfortable, deadly levels of competency.

Grassbones gets along with others easily. Having been a vigilante for as long as he has, he has found himself in a lot of situations where he's been able to talk others down from doing something drastic. Despite having a power that lets him lay an ungodly smackdown on people, he prefers not to hurt people, so he pulls his punches out of sympathy for the ones he has to come to blows against. There has never been a reported incident where Grassbones killed someone or even deliberately threatened their life. When out on the job, he goes out of his way to do nice things for people, even if those things don't necessarily involved busting up a bad guy. Sometimes, he even takes picture with the occasional person who finds him particularly cool.

Occupation/Trade | Vigilante

Skills / Talents

• Close-quarters combat
• Parkour
• Basic first aid
• Good with people

Family | None currently.

Background | Shawn came from a past full of bad choices and severed connections. He grew up in a family that had often struggled to make ends meet, and so he fell in with bad crowds to support them. Bad crowds, of course, means he found work with bad people, doing illicit odd jobs such as a getaway driver, gunman and money launderer. It was bad work that often left Shawn it was bad work that paid well, and that was all he cared about. His family needed all the money they could get, and it was enough that they were able to move into a better part of the city. They weren't exactly well off, but they got by.

One particular job involved a shooting, in which Shawn got his hands dirtier than he cared for. He realized he was in too deep, and tried to make himself scarce. It didn't matter, though. His family found out, and they abandoned him. They had no evidence to confirm that he killed anybody other than the sight of blood on his clothes and the gun he tried to get rid of, so there was nothing they could do to report him to the police. Shawn ran off and never showed his face to his family again. He spent months alone, running amok among the bad guys to try and make something of himself, but no one would take him in. He was a nobody, and had nothing to offer. Months of rage, isolation, and abandonment pushed him to a dark place. He never cared much for smoking, but he needed something to take the edge off one day, and suddenly his flesh was evaporating off of his bones.

Many months later, a vigilante named Grassbones appeared in New Haven, and quickly made a name for himself when he took down and rounded up the same crooks he used to work for. None of them recognized the skeletal face when he dragged them into the N.O.V.A. HQ, declining all requests and pressure for his personal information. A few years have gone by since his first appearance, and he has built up a reputation as a public, above-board vigilante with an aversion to working in what N.O.V.A. considers an official capacity. He has never been known to endanger the lives of anyone he faces, or break any laws, but his staunch insistence on remaining independent has turned more than a few heads, especially when it doesn’t fit with his regular attitude.

Vanguard

🎶"When your duty calls, you all will be standing tall 'cause the end of the day will hold victory! Hold your heads up high! Stand your ground and unify! If you never surrender, you will never fall! "🎶

Name | Omar Fonseca

Alias | Vanguard

Age | 43

Gender | Male - He/Him

Appearance | Omar is what the kids these days call an "absolute fucking unit." He is exactly six feet tall, with more dark red hair than a lion, and more muscle than most people can manage in their lifetime. There isn't much to mention regarding Omar's appearance, he's just everyone's favorite neighborhood bear in human form.

Notoriety | Noble

Danger Level / Variant Type | Class 2 / Distortionist, Agile

Abilities | Vanguard has the power to increase or subtract the kinetic energy of anything he touches, up to 200% or down to 1%. This ability requires him to physically touch whatever he wants to affect, and he often uses it to augment his movement to make himself, or his armor and hammer, move with more power. Vanguard's powers only actively work while he is touching something, meaning while he can move exceptionally fast or slow a speeding car to a fraction of its velocity, he cannot throw and object and make it retain its amplified momentum. Once it leaves his hand, it will lose speed the way an object normally would, though with an added kick from his powers.

[Gear]
Attire |

Armament / Equipment |

Orion-5 | One of, if not the very first official suits of mechanical armor the world has ever seen. Built by Vanguard, the Orion-5 is the fifth iteration of his personal exosuit, and is made to accommodate the use of his variant abilities. Vanguard built the Orion for the purpose of being a tank with legs wherever he goes, and while it isn't armed with weapons, enhanced sensors, or movement features, it soaks up damage like a sponge. It stands at roughly 6 feet and 5 inches tall, and weighs over a ton.

The Final Judgement | Weighing roughly 170 pounds, the Final Judgement is a mechanized warhammer built by Vanguard, and is designed to be used with the Orion-5. It isn't very special compared to everything else he makes, but it does have a series of rotating gyroscopes built into it which make it feel near weightless to Vanguard. The grip of the weapon is built with special, minimal-surface area metamaterial plating that rotates underneath to power the balancing system, which are sped up or sped down by the use of Vanguard's power when in the Orion suit. This is managed by two kinetic catalyzers that absorb impacts and converts them into an electrical current. It is likely the most technologically advanced bludgeoning instrument New Haven has ever witnessed.

Imperator GT-3 | The Imperator model is built for use by MAD agents. They increase the physical output of an operator's movements, from punches to running, and are equipped with IF and night vision sensors. Every agent authorized to operate an armor model built by Vanguard, is trained by him for its use, and is handed a security key that allows them access to their designated suit. These are adjustable from the inside, and link to a universal radio channel so that all Imperator agents can communicate with each other during deployment. These are lightweight, and built to withstand direct assault from weapons, explosives or anything a Volatile might throw at them.

Navigator HS-12 | Navigator suits are designed for MAD agents entering hazardous environments. Due to the unpredictable nature of Variants, the Navigator model is built for modularity. Its armor can be changed to fit any circumstance from extreme temperatures, electrical hazards or corrosive acid to some Distortionist effects. These are meant to protect an operator above all else, and therefore offer nothing for combat. Anti-ballistic armor is available for the Navigator, but the model doesn't increase the effective power of its user. However, the model can potentially be outfitted for low weight if the situation allows for it.

Phantom CO-9 | The Phantom model is specialized for stealth and recon. It is the smallest of the models in Vanguard’s system, and is equipped with agility-enhancing modules as well as a range of sensory-jamming internals. Phantom suits can completely evade virtually any mundane form of detection from IF to radar, and even project an invisibility field. Due to the extreme burden of the cloaking field, the Phantom’s hands and feet are equipped with piezoelectric shock absorbers beneath radar-jamming plating, which provides energy to the suit’s energy core whenever an impact occurs. It currently doesn't offer anything that can hide it from Mentalists that have enhanced sensory powers, so MAD agents operating a Phantom need to be careful.

[Temperament & Lifestyle]

Affiliation | N.O.V.A.

Occupation/Trade | Noble Variant, Power Suit Engineer

Skills / Talents

• PhD in mechanical engineering
• Shreds an electric guitar like he invented it
• Melee combat expert
• Great at cooking

Family |

• Ramón Fonseca - Father
• Silvia Fonseca - Mother

Background |

Omar was born in Columbia, in the year 2037. When he was a child, his family moved to the United States for work reasons. His father was a software engineer who helped develop the AIs that piloted vehicles, and his mother was a doctor. From a young age, Omar was fascinated by technology and aspired to follow in his father's footsteps, he attended college to become an engineer, but he did not become the same engineer as his father. In the early 2060s, the most important technological advances in the country were drones and wearable technology. These were things that Omar hadn't studied in college. His knowledge suited heavy machinery instead. Mr. and Mrs. Fonseca always encouraged their son to push past challenges that came his way, and Omar was never one to give up. Omar, then, turned to a place that always needed all the engineers it could get, the US Army at the age of 24.

For the next 5 years, Omar worked in a military base, developing, researching, and manufacturing improvements to the current state of technology. He eventually led a project to design exoskeletons meant to assist troops in deployment. The designs were skeletal, and barely offered any protection compared to the enhanced strength they gave their wearers. Omar argued extensively with others that the suits needed to be made with protection in mind, but the army didn't want tanks on legs. They wanted better performance. When he was spending time on the exosuits soldiers were outfitted with, Omar was experimenting with ideas of his own for suits that didn't just output better strength, but provided solid protection. He filled entire notebooks full of theoretical designs for experimental, mechanized armor that completely encased its user, but from a logistical standpoint, he could never justify the use to his superiors. Less vulnerability for a single soldier wasn't worth the resources that would be needed, even if they could make thousands with their budget.

Omar's life was changed during an accident during a test run of an upgraded exosuit. The research team integrated bi-metal springs into joints that could hold 200 pounds of force before being compressed fully. There were concerns that the weight required was too much, but the operator testing its movement seemed to be unbothered. That was, until a spring snapped and sent a 53 pound arm brace, made of solid steel, flying across the room fast enough to go clean through a tank. Omar happened to be directly in its path, and managed to shield his face just in time for the object to simply fall to the floor as if Omar had dropped it. No one was harmed in the end, but when the researches looked at the recording they captured, they noticed that the accidental projectile had its momentum completely arrested when it made contact with Omar's hand. He hadn't noticed at the time, but apparently he caused it to stop moving so fast. An assistant helped him recreate what they saw on a more harmless scale. They grabbed a spare ball bearing, roughly the size of a tennis ball, and rolled it across the floor. Omar placed his hand on the floor so it would just barely brush past the ball, and it stopped dead. They concluded that Omar was a Variant. Given his age, he was likely part of the first generation of Variants.

Word of this discovery reached the people in charge of the project, who reported Omar's Variance to their superiors, and Omar was discharged from service. Everyone he worked with wished him good luck in moving on, and after a few months of experimenting with the new powers he discovered, Omar had a plan. In the year 2068, a 2-ton giant emerged in New Haven under the name Vanguard. Immediately after his arrival, he started rounding up villainous superhumans and throwing them at the doorstep of the local authorities. The city was more than surprised to see a Variant in possession of such machinery, and agents of N.O.V.A. quickly found the mechanical titan on the streets. They questioned him extensively, asking where he got the suit, where he came from, even what his name was, which he answered with, "My name is Vanguard." The agents who spoke to him told him that, since he was a "heroic" Variant that seemed to have incredible skill with technology, that the relatively new organization called M.A.D. could benefit greatly from his skill. Vanguard avoided the Glorious Alliance due to the way they operated behind the scenes, but he quickly set to work arming the MADmen with mechanized armor. He even went as far as to get everything under patents to prevent malicious use of his designs. 12 years later, Vanguard is one of the oldest, and in his opinion, most respected Nobles in New Haven, running an entire hangar bay full of what he calls his "Ironclads" for MAD agents to take into battle.

Pariah (Superhuman RP)

Gives me the urge to write another character who’s a technomancer

Manipulates machines and cybernetic stuff with their mind