Toro post should be up tomorrow!
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Edited in a few notes for what I have in mind, as my concept for Teth continues to evolve in the post sketches I've made.
I wanted to have the Wizard to have died/passed the torch, but felt I needed a foil to serve as Teth's conscience - ideally someone connected to the Justice League, so I re-worked the character of Uncle Dudley/Uncle Marvel to fit that role and edited the sheet to note that inclusion.
I also scaled back Kahndaq from what I originally wrote, making it into a city-state rather than a kingdom with a capital and other cities. I think that better aligns it as a Camelot analog.
Also, Happy New Year everyone.
I wanted to have the Wizard to have died/passed the torch, but felt I needed a foil to serve as Teth's conscience - ideally someone connected to the Justice League, so I re-worked the character of Uncle Dudley/Uncle Marvel to fit that role and edited the sheet to note that inclusion.
I also scaled back Kahndaq from what I originally wrote, making it into a city-state rather than a kingdom with a capital and other cities. I think that better aligns it as a Camelot analog.
Also, Happy New Year everyone.
However, in this history of these games there has rarely been interest to make a sheet once the IC gets going...
I was in the middle of a move when this went up (and have been shamed by several people for not having applied even before I'd moved into the new house), but I wanted to wait until I'd sketched out a few different ideas on paper to make sure the idea I had wasn't just an idea that'd go nowhere.
Sheet incoming. Prepare your rejection letters now (I've been getting accustomed to them recently).
Ingleside, Texas
“...and in his remarks at the victory party celebrating his successful re-election, the Texas governor vowed to continue his policy of bussing mutants to so-called sanctuary cities.”
“Thank you, Dick. For more on this story, we go now live to Alexa Lujan.”
“Thank you, Larry, and good evening. I’m standing at a bus station in Ingleside – a small town only about a hundred and fifty miles from the Mexican border. Even here, away from the state capital of Austin or the sprawling Houston metro area, we can see the effects of the governor’s edict. Tonight, Ingleside is the first stop for a bus that will make several stops in the state before setting off for New York. No promised jobs, no promised housing. Just one very clear message: Get out.”
The backpack hit him in the chest.
In it were a few clothes. A change of underwear. Pajamas. Aside from it and the clothes on his back, he had five dollars in his wallet.
He was being put on the bus.
He was only twelve years old. “Mamá, no,” the boy begged, tears running down his face.
It was still the same face. The shape, at least. It had started about a year before, when they’d realized his eyes had turned green. Then it had been his hair. Finally, his skin had started to change. Now, even though he was the same, he was different.
He was green. A green face framed by green curls.
A hand grabbed him by the front of his shirt, shoving him back hard. It was his older brother. “That is no mother of yours!”
Hugging the backpack against his chest, the boy just continued to sob. Swallowing, feeling his throat tighten, a softer voice pleaded, “Mamá, no.”
He got no reply, at least from her. The woman simply turned her back him.
His father stepped forward, gesturing angrily toward the bus. “You are dead to this family!” With a second, flippant gesture, the man barked, “¡Descuéntate!"
With that, the man turned his back, guiding his wife back toward the car.
As his brother started to follow, he turned back to spit on the ground at the child’s feet.
Then, they left him.
He stood in that same spot for several minutes, trying to process the pain that gripped him. When he’d finally mustered the strength to move, the green-skinned boy slowly meandered his way to the bus.
As he boarded, he was met by downcast eyes. Misfits. Monsters. Outcasts. He threw himself into the empty seat that he came upon, burying his head into the backpack in his lap.
It was going to be a long night.
And what would happen to him when they arrived..?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
PRESENT DAY
The Xavier Institute, Westchester, New York
PRESENT DAY
The Xavier Institute, Westchester, New York
Nothing had survived the fire.
Underneath the Xavier Institute hoodie, he was wearing donations from the fire department that had rescued him – and also extinguished him on several different occasions – before Social Services had finally managed the connection over to the Institute.
Coming from California, the Goodwill t-shirt wasn’t cutting it with the colder New York weather, but it seemed the school anticipated supplying clothes to students.
He’d been handed a piece of paper with the number of the room he’d been assigned, and verbal directions to the boy’s dormitory that he’d managed with only one wrong turn.
Well, two wrong turns technically, but one had been a dead end and so that wrong turn had made itself known as soon as he’d made it. So that one shouldn’t count.
Cracking open the door, the dark-haired California boy poked his head in. “Hola,” he uttered nervously, as his eyes landed upon the figure in the room.
It was a boy who looked to be his age.
...and was green? Like, completely green.
The shock of the other boy’s appearance brought home the reality that Toro was in an institute. A place for freaks.
Monsters, just like him.
After an uncomfortable silence, the boy simply said, “I guess we’re gonna be roommates.”
The green-skinned kid just motioned to the other bed in the room, which didn’t even have linen on it. Just an empty mattress, with a few articles that the green kid started clearing away.
As he did, the green kid casually popped the question. “¿Hablas español?”
“Caló, si.”
“Cool,” the green kid uttered, as he straightened back up and turned back to face the newcomer. “Me llamó Des.”
“Me llamó Toro.”
The name drop seemed to take Des by surprise. “Toro?” the green-skinned kid echoed back, before giving voice to his skepticism. "¿Neta?"
Hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie, the California boy just gave a shrug in answer.
It was after that he realized that Des seemed like he was trying to peer behind Toro. "¿Mande?"
“Where’s your stuff?” the other boy asked, innocently.
Again, the California boy just kept his hands inside the pouch-pocket on the front of the hoodie, giving a shrug as he said, “This is it.”
The clothes on his back.
All that he had.
“Oh,” Des uttered, as realization set in.
There was another uncomfortable silence, as both boys seemed fascinated by the floor at their feet. Then, finally, “I... kinda showed up the same way.”
As Toro glanced back up, he found Des trying to give him an awkward smile as he offered, “Is there anything you need? I could show you where to find everything.”
Anything he needed?
How about his life back. Did Des know where to find that?
Drawing in a deep breath, Toro swallowed as he found the word he needed.
“Gracias.”
Underneath the Xavier Institute hoodie, he was wearing donations from the fire department that had rescued him – and also extinguished him on several different occasions – before Social Services had finally managed the connection over to the Institute.
Coming from California, the Goodwill t-shirt wasn’t cutting it with the colder New York weather, but it seemed the school anticipated supplying clothes to students.
He’d been handed a piece of paper with the number of the room he’d been assigned, and verbal directions to the boy’s dormitory that he’d managed with only one wrong turn.
Well, two wrong turns technically, but one had been a dead end and so that wrong turn had made itself known as soon as he’d made it. So that one shouldn’t count.
Cracking open the door, the dark-haired California boy poked his head in. “Hola,” he uttered nervously, as his eyes landed upon the figure in the room.
It was a boy who looked to be his age.
...and was green? Like, completely green.
The shock of the other boy’s appearance brought home the reality that Toro was in an institute. A place for freaks.
Monsters, just like him.
After an uncomfortable silence, the boy simply said, “I guess we’re gonna be roommates.”
The green-skinned kid just motioned to the other bed in the room, which didn’t even have linen on it. Just an empty mattress, with a few articles that the green kid started clearing away.
As he did, the green kid casually popped the question. “¿Hablas español?”
“Caló, si.”
“Cool,” the green kid uttered, as he straightened back up and turned back to face the newcomer. “Me llamó Des.”
“Me llamó Toro.”
The name drop seemed to take Des by surprise. “Toro?” the green-skinned kid echoed back, before giving voice to his skepticism. "¿Neta?"
Hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie, the California boy just gave a shrug in answer.
It was after that he realized that Des seemed like he was trying to peer behind Toro. "¿Mande?"
“Where’s your stuff?” the other boy asked, innocently.
Again, the California boy just kept his hands inside the pouch-pocket on the front of the hoodie, giving a shrug as he said, “This is it.”
The clothes on his back.
All that he had.
“Oh,” Des uttered, as realization set in.
There was another uncomfortable silence, as both boys seemed fascinated by the floor at their feet. Then, finally, “I... kinda showed up the same way.”
As Toro glanced back up, he found Des trying to give him an awkward smile as he offered, “Is there anything you need? I could show you where to find everything.”
Anything he needed?
How about his life back. Did Des know where to find that?
Drawing in a deep breath, Toro swallowed as he found the word he needed.
“Gracias.”
The Xavier Institute
"...know that you have the support of faculty and your fellow classmates. You belong as part of this community. You don't need to hide your true self any longer.”
The boy sat toward the front of the auditorium’s bleachers, part of the class that was both the youngest and, as befitted that reality, also the smallest in stature.
This wasn’t his regular school.
He wasn’t even sure it was a school at all. Was it a prison? A punishment? A wellspring of emotion threatened to choke him. A pain laid across his chest like an unfathomable weight. The blue eyes that darted around the unfamiliar surroundings seemed on the verge of either panic or tears.
”You don't need to be constantly afraid of not fitting in anymore. And most importantly, you can feel safe here.”
A spark of anger shot through the boy. Intensely, he stared across at where a bald, white güey – the headmaster or some shit – was talking.
He called it a dream.
And Toro?
Toro called it a lie. He didn’t feel safe. None of them were. Crossing his arms, the boy grabbed onto his shoulders as he hunched over, hugging himself tightly as he tried to breath through the myriad of thick emotions.
Everything had been fine. Everything had been normal. Then the fire had come. Quietly, like a thief in the night. Toro had gone to bed like any other day in his life. Looking back, now it all seemed like that had been the dream.
…and he’d woken up to the nightmare. He’d woken up aflame. Surrounded by fire. On fire.
He could feel it still, inside of him. Waiting for a spark to set it free.
He wasn’t safe. He was a monster.
As people broke out in applause for the ojete in the wheelchair, the boy just flipped the hood of the sweater he wore up over his head to try and hide the tears that had started running down his face.
He wanted his old school. He wanted to go back to California. He wanted his life back..
He wanted his parents back.
I am interested in what @Bounce brings to the table with his character.
First up is a short story that will just frame why each of the kids (Toro, Fauna, Carter, and Rubbermaid to start) are at the Institute. In the case of Fauna, the story is going to be that the Texas governor is among several Wideawake America Movement associated politicians bussing mutants to so-called "Sanctuary Cities" and Fauna was literally put on a bus by his family to get rid of him. (Obviously this is very close to the nose for real-life politics and if @Retired or anyone would like me to nix that, just let me know). Apart from establishing the cast, the story will focus on the kids' belief that the X-Mansion is haunted.
The second story will be a field trip, where the kids travel to recruit Abigail for the Institute, owing to her town in Scotland being accepting of her and it viewed as a safe experience. If there's no issue with it, I may make use of Moira MacTaggart and Muir Island for the story, introducing Plague (the Pestilence horseman from the Fall of the Mutants storyline) as an antagonist.
Third up will be a trip to Cosco when delivery services to the Institute are temporarily suspended due to political backlash over companies outted on social media for supporting mutants (obviously @Mao Mao can turn this off), leading to the discovery of some Morlocks and introducing the kids to Anole, who should be my final new cast member for the team, and will use either Purifiers or Friends of Humanity as the antagonist.
On the far horizon, I want to do something with Carter and the Shadow King (the plot in the comics that was dropped along with the character of Carter when the writer departed the series), but I'd probably need another telepath along for that ride.
And that's all the Toro that's fit to bounce.
I suspect this is just @Mao Mao's way of trying to disavow any responsibility Charles and Erik might have for the antics of our New Mutant wannabes.
Hell hath no fury like a Gowi approved.
Please refrain from posting in the IC yet. Once my fever breaks I'll kick things off there.
Gives time for @Mao Mao to get approved before I can wreck the X-Mansion.
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