BurningCold

Pokétopian Dreams: Uncharted Waters

@Yankee this is incredible

Primality

@Aeolian Definitely curious to see how our characters would interact. Both are sort of emotionally stunted and exercise restraint in different ways and for different reasons

Primality

<Snipped quote by Ti>

Raise hail, praise Dale! Loser has to find a way to break down the gym doors with just the mower and no powers!

@AWildSquirtle

Marko contemplates his life choices harder than ever before from the sidelines

Primality

Marko Valdi

M A R K O V A L D I

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^{F I R E ◼ J U L Y 2 0 T H ( 1 8 ) ◼ M A L E}

_{"Evidently I've made some poor choices."}

A P P E A R A N C E:

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There are two things someone will notice about Marko from the drop. His size, and his scar. Broad shouldered and big boned, the solitary titan that is Marko would stand out in a room even without the assistance of his injuries. He has a long, angular face and a hawkish nose, his expression often set somewhere between dour and tired. His hair is black as soot and rests short cropped and uncared for atop his head. On most days, a light, barely there stubble tickles his chin. Meanwhile, his attire is best described as being something that someone else cared a great deal to pack him off to school with, but that he cares very little for maintaining or making presentable. His good arm, the one not covered in burns and riddled with nerve damage, can most often be seen ending in a black gloved hand. That hand is usually holding a cigarette, when he can get away with it. Always he wears the thick, heavy coat gifted to him by his grandpa. He can’t stand being cold.

He doesn’t talk about the scar much, so neither will we, except to acknowledge that it is there and that it is not very pleasant to look at.

B I O G R A P H Y:

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Marko was raised by his grandparents. His dad was never really in the picture and his mom… She really did try. Until he was five he remembers a blur of rotating couches and rotating men. That, and the winter nights spent shivering to sleep in the passenger seat of the car that was his home most of the time. He’s never forgotten that feeling, of the cold seeping into his bones so deep he would scream if not for the fact that his mother was right there, shivering alongside him. If she wouldn’t scream, then why should he? Those days ended when a traffic cop found Marko sitting alone inside that beat up old car, his mother nowhere to be found. He didn’t know where she went, and he never found out. Eventually the system put him in touch with the grandma and grandpa he didn’t know he had, and they took him in without a second thought.

That old couple did everything right. They weren’t millionaire socialites, but they were well off and they put that money to use with Marko. Despite his stunted education early in life, he was actually found to be quite intelligent, and quickly caught up with his peers. They provided access to a child therapist to help him sort through the complicated life he had and set him on a good path. They themselves visited regularly with a counselor to educate themselves on how best to care for this child. Grandma and Grandpa Valdi weren’t going to let Marko go the way of his mother. Perhaps most importantly, they loved him. Plainly and simply.

Yet, the challenges were numerous. He was scared and confused most of his life, but suddenly being safe enough to let those feelings out into the open was a difficult thing to manage. There was a lot of resentment and frustration as he grew up over the fact that his mother was still alive, but that he wasn’t allowed to see her. His dad was alive too, but he didn’t want to see Marko. It’s no surprise he was an angry child, and used petty acts of delinquency to blow off steam. He took up smoking as a freshman in high school and began to run with a group of older boys that got their jollies throwing bricks through car windows and storefronts. That part was fun. Watching his “friends” push around the smaller kids at school? An activity best enjoyed from the sidelines, simmering in discomfort at his own inability to do the right thing.

Things changed when the group began targeting people that Marko actually knew. For Marko, the one positive outlet he had was always writing. Private diary entries, collections of poems, and fantastical narratives covered the pages of his journals. Maybe he didn’t talk much in poetry club, and he certainly never shared any of his own writing, but he was there. Every meeting, for one hour a week, Marko was able to lose himself in the creative thrill of like-minded individuals that spoke their truths without shame. So when this group of nasty, discontent boys began to have run-ins with the people from poetry club, being a bystander wasn’t an option anymore.

He graduated from throwing bricks to throwing punches.

He won some fights, and due to numbers being against him, lost a hell of a lot more. Still. He didn’t mind if it got them off the poetry club’s back. Besides, breaking glass was starting to lose its edge. But these guys? He let his rage out on them. Every black eye he inflicted was deserved. Every split lip he got in return felt equally fair. After all the times he hung back and did nothing? He wore his bruises with a grim kind of pride. Thinking, like a stupid teenager might, that the hurt he endured now somehow made up for the hurt he failed to prevent in the past. It didn’t.

He never hit a point where he felt “atoned”. He just got less discriminate in who he fought and what he fought them over. His adoptive parents tried to reach him, and though he would nod and clench his fists and promise to do better, the anger had a hold of him now. Even his dreams didn’t seem safe. Every night his mind was embroiled in roiling heat so intense Marko swore he’d smell smoke upon waking. Sometimes he wandered through burning forests. Other times he was trapped in a house that had gone up in flames, and too often he would be shivering in a car in the middle of winter, freezing to death until the vehicle would burst into an inferno.

The event that disfigured Marko was less of a climax in a dramatic narrative and more of a full stop at the end of the entire novel. There would be no falling action, no resolution. Life doesn’t work that way. Although, there is a certain amount of ironic flare to the moment itself.

Marko, staring at his bruised reflection in the bathroom mirror, felt feelings bubbling up that had been simmering for months and years. He was sick of feeling guilty. Sick of feeling angry. He missed his mom. He wanted to know why his dad never called. And staring back at him was the face of a young man that apparently only knew how to solve his feelings with violence. Brave enough to fight four people at once but too cowardly to share his poetry. So he punched the mirror. He expected it to shatter. Not to explode.

That summer, spent almost entirely in the hospital, Marko broke down to his grandparents. He came clean to them. About it all. When he shared his strange dreams, that all but confirmed suspicions. His grandparents forgave him, they reassured him, but they were extremely firm with him. Attending the Merryweather Institute was not a matter for debate. Marko understood. He had a long time to sit with himself and think about what kind of person he wanted to be in his life. He was eighteen now. There wasn’t going to be another do-over. Full stop.

P E R S O N A L I T Y:

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Marko is fatigued. He takes on the burdens of life with a sort of weary acceptance, as though unable to consider that he ever deserves anything more or less than what he gets. This numbness towards the woes and joys of life does not necessarily mean he is a passive participant, however. His rational mind prevents him from slipping any further than he already has. Though he doesn't see how, this school, at its best, is a real opportunity for Marko to find some way through the miasma he wades through. He tries to keep that in mind whenever the school confiscates his cigarettes.

When interacting with others, it becomes apparent that the dry wit he wields in conversation is the remnant of some far more fiery personality that has long since burnt out of him. While still running the full range of human emotion, there is a restraint to his behavior he didn't used to have. Still, he's not a cold person. There is tenderness and kindness to be found within him. There is a creative young soul that loves poetry and misses his mom and loves his grandparents. That's still him.

A B I L I T I E S / S K I L L S:

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While Marko is strong and knows how to fight, these days he’s much more willing to take a punch than throw one. Intellectual pursuits got him through his time in the hospital. Reading and writing were a lifeline to a calmer and more centered version of himself, and while not necessarily practically applicable, to him re-doubling his interest in literature has been a lifesaver. As far as his fire powers go, the most he’s comfortable attempting so far is smoking up without a lighter.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

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Marko is at a major turning point in his life, which is important because I don't want to play as a violent/unstable bully. He still has a lot of growing to do and isn't doing the best but I think that comedy and light are just as important for a character as darkness and drama. I am looking forward to fleshing out Marko within the context of a game and how he bounces off of other characters. Romance is okay with me if it makes sense and develops naturally. Not sure if Marko is anyone's cup of tea though, haha

I've gone ahead with a different concept either way :p

EDIT: I messed up a couple lines in the appearance section, which I've now fixed

Primality

@Carlyle Does "Beast" work as an element for this setting? Like drawing power from or being able to become animals. I am not sure as in my experience whether that gets included in a natural magic system is very up to author preference.

EDIT: I've made a character based around Fire instead!

Star Wars - Fires of Exaron [5BBY]

@SepLet's gooo! Time to survive until my appointed time during the space between episodes 5 and 6!

Star Wars - Fires of Exaron [5BBY]

The Everyman

The Everyman

Name: Manutko “Manny” Takaduron
Species: Bothan
Age: 35

Appearance:

Manny stands somewhat taller than the average of his species, at 1.7 meters or about 5 foot 5. His build is naturally lean and athletic like most of his species, although he is no exemplar in that field. Matching his eyes, his fur is colored in hues of dark slate and charcoal, deepening into black where it grows into his well groomed hair and sideburns. Liking to keep himself well put together, partially as a means to stay sane, he puts care into his personal grooming and often dresses in snappy, professional attire.

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Equipment:

A Nice Briefcase: Part of Delva Racine’s “Galactic Man” line of male fashion accessories. It holds things. Equipped with a biometric lock, baffleweave lined interior, and a moonstone embossed Delva Racine logo on the handle. Not the most prudent purchase.

A Thermal Detonator: Currently jostling around inside the briefcase. Hidden from scanners thanks to the baffleweave lining.

A Ministerial Government ID Badge: Mostly useless at this point.

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Skills:

Official Demeanor: Working as a civil servant filling various functions within the Ministerial Government - as a secretary, a data analyst, an aide, an event coordinator, the list goes on - has conditioned Manny well on how to keep his emotions in check and assess situations levelly. At the very least, his mind has always been keen.

King of the Termites: Manny is a hard worker, and knows how to knuckle down and get things done. He will focus tirelessly on a project either physical or cerebral until it has reached completion. Perhaps most importantly, he’s happy to work in teams and is comfortable in both leadership and support positions.

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Weaknesses:

Entirely Untested: Manny is a civilian in every sense of the word. He has never touched a weapon or even gotten into a physical altercation of any kind. He understands nothing of criminal underbellies and couldn’t tell a vibro-blade from a deathstick.

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History:

Manny was a young, single father struggling to make ends meet when the Jedi came for his son. He wasn’t ready to raise a child on his own, and he was reeling from loss. He was scared. The Jedi told Manny his son would be a keeper of peace and justice. They didn’t mention anything about child soldiers.

For years he worked at himself, worked at his career, and simmered quietly with resentment as an uncaring Republic squeezed his planet dry. Tensions did what they do, and grew. War was declared. It didn’t affect him much. The Jedi would knock some sense into both sides and the stagnant Republic would learn a lesson in allowing itself to be ruled by greed and corruption. The woman Manny gave his child to was older and wiser than he, and with people like that in power, maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.

So far, Manny has been 0 for 2 in turning to optimism in times of trouble.

It wasn’t long after the war began that it became public knowledge on Exaron that the Jedi had thrown their lots in with the Republic since the beginning, and that they had padawans marching into battle. To many, that small detail was lost on them entirely. The Order was mythical to the galaxy at large and their lexicon wasn’t one that you picked up by chance. To those that did understand, opinions were divided any number of ways.

“How awful!”

“They’re supposed to be supernatural, right?”

“Callous but necessary.”

“As long as it isn’t my child.” Well.

As the war dragged on, Manny found himself in a haze. He was intrinsically motivated to prefer that the Separatists win, but how could he? His child was being used as a tool. Being indoctrinated to serve oppressors. Whenever news of battles won and lost reached his ears he simply lacked the ability to feel anything other than numb. The first time he felt hope in years was when word came that Supreme Chancellor Palpatine was reorganizing the old, decayed government into a new Galactic Empire. Maybe an iron fist was needed to force society back onto the correct course. Maybe one man with the best intentions could do what thousands of corrupt politicians failed to.

Then, the announcement was made that the Jedi were apparently violent dissidents destined for extermination. He doesn’t know if the great purge took the life of the son he never knew, and he tries not to think about it.

0 for 3.

Life, in all this time on Exaron, has not changed much for its people. Nor for Manny himself. For nearly 15 years he has waded through life as purgatory, caught in a miasma of feigned indifference and barely constrained rage. Ever since his wife died, leaving him alone with a child he could not hope to care for, he has been in a fugue. The Clone Wars. The Jedi Purge. The Rebellion. All this time, Manny has avoided ever truly considering the weight of the galaxy around him. Sitting on the fence. Whiling away the days in performative professionalism underpinned by an anger and an anxiety so consuming, in a universe so terrifying, that this Bothan could not afford to look outward or within. So he has squeezed his eyes shut to it all.

Now, all hell is breaking loose over some random crash landed ship, the imperial garrison has swarmed the capital, and his job is probably in jeopardy. So far anyways, they’ve let him keep it.

These days, Manny carries an explosive with him everywhere he goes. Buying it was the scariest thing he ever did, and he’s still not sure what he’s going to do with it now that he has it.

Manny has been pushed to the edge, further than ever before. Furious and close to a breaking point, he’s exactly one employment termination notice away from exploding. Probably literally.

Primality

I second some of the other questions I've seen but I enjoy the idea of a magic school with the slant that everyone is basically some flavor of druid- in power set if not temperament

Blood of the Crown (Medieval Fantasy, Royalty, Magic)

A small group can definitely function just fine!

𝚂𝙸𝙶𝙽𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙸𝚁𝙴𝙳

I also think this seems like it could be a good time. If the odds surprise everyone then count me in