Ceta de Cloyes

Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

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This course of action was lame, and not at all what Dizzy had in mind. He wanted more space, a moment to breathe without the Flock's issues weighing him down. He grumbled, stomach growling, and flapped his wings in irritation. Human cities were made of glass anyway right? They'd be seen either way! He sighed and rolled his eyes as he internally argued the merits of listening to Flick and ignoring him. The city would probably be interesting, but he'd rather explore it on a full stomach. Then again, splitting up would mean the others would be annoyed and maybe even leave him behind. He wouldn't put it past them either...

He eyed Crash speculatively. He could always go with plan B and take a chunk out of Crash if thing's got dicey.

Ooooooor he could go with plan A and go hunting like he wanted. "Maybe we can catch something on the way?" He wondered aloud, stroking his non-existent beard thoughtfully. If so then Flick could shove it while he made a fire and cooked it. Or just cook Flick.

He snickered, amused gaze sliding from Crash to Flick, and he tilted his head. Fine, he thought, but if I starve you're donating a pint to my stomach.

Then he grimaced as he realized his half baked plan to find a river to wash his wings in was never going to come to pass. "Ugh," he scoffed, "whatever, let's just be quick." Food was more active during the day anyway, if the city turned out to be a bore or a death trap then he'd go hunting later and the rest could go and suck on their glass towers or whatever it was they were doing.

What did they need from the city again? And how big was it? It wouldn't take long to look through right?

He mumbled something unintelligibly annoyed under his breath and leaped into the air, catching himself with a flutter of his wings before mulishly deciding not to wait for the rest to join him, vaguely aligning to follow the direction Mal and Rook had gone.

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Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

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Dizzy made a negligent hand gesture with his freehand, deciding he didn't really care one way or another and focused on brushing off the nuts Flick had so generously shared. He hated the feel of dirt against his teeth, so each nut was brushed against the underside of his shirt, on the cleanest spot he could find, before being tossed up and catching it in his mouth. He never dropped one, never missed, and totally avoided the gritty crunch of sand between his teeth.

Maybe the city would be less dirty, that'd be nice. Then again, the forest was supposed to be full of frolicking creatures and fields of daisies, but apparently that assumption was deeply flawed, so maybe the same could be said for his impression about cities. He bet they had showers though, even if the water was cold and the towels always smelled funny at least he could enjoy the feel of water through his feathers.

It was a shame about the forest though, he was so looking forward to munching on juicy woodland steaks and braiding flowers into sweet-smelling jackets.

Mmm, juicy steaks...

"Breakfast sounds great," he decided aloud. "I'll go with you!" He offered cheerfully- well, 'offered' as if he had a choice. Dizzy wanted to catch something and eat it, and damn if he wasn't going to do it. Now, preferably. He tossed back the rest of the nuts without bothering to clean them, content to bear the gritty taste of a stray speck of dirt if it meant he could find something chewy and warm to bite into that much quicker. He hopped closer to Crash, looking to him to lead the way, threateningly sharp teeth hidden behind his close-lipped smile.

As an after thought he wondered if they should ask permission, but dismissed that train of thought before it could finish. Flick was probably the closest thing they had to a leader, but really he was more of a chaperone, yet to start giving orders or trying to control them. A fact Dizzy had taken advantage of sparingly over the last few days, wandering off for a few minutes here and there to chase a bug or investigate a shiny piece of glass in the dirt, and once to watch a snake slowly climb a tree. He never had strayed for long though, and was always been within hearing range of the others, though admittedly his hearing was better than theirs.

If he were honest with himself Dizzy would pinpoint the coil of emotions in his stomach as his repressed and ignored feelings of fear. He didn't know anything about this unfamiliar place, he didn't know how to survive, and right now sticking close to the Flock was all he could do. That said, if he had to listen to one more tense, pensive silence, droning on and dancing on his nerves, he was going to bite someone. Probably Mel. Or Rook. He was an easier target.

A chance to wander off without actually being alone? Golden opportunity. So, away to an adventure with Crash it was. The others could worry and ponder and argue over the city, there was nothing bothersome about pouncing on a fluffy munchum and roasting it over the fire. If that didn't work he'd bite Crash, he'd probably taste alright. He eyed the blond thoughtfully.

What were they doing again? Oh right, food!

He flicked a wing, managing to knock loose the last few leaves and at last be rid of their tickling edges. He smiled, close-lipped, and contemplated the taste of rabbits. And Crash. Rabbits and Crash... Rabbits or Crash? Something like that.

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Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

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Rocks were more uncomfortable than metal bars, but the dirt was worse somehow. Softer yes, but he despised the way it got everywhere and clung to him long after he'd left the ground. So Dizzy had gotten creative and built a mat out of the branches of a young springy tree, clad in hundreds of soft leaves, and bedded down on top of it, head cushioned by one wing, because he'd long gotten used to using them as pillows, and using the other as a blanket.

This, he decided that morning, had not been his best plan. Sure he was now free of the dirt that so loved to dust his feathers and skin, but somehow he'd managed to break off dozens of little twigs and leaves into the thick of his feathers. He made a plaintive whining noise at the injustice of it all, freedom was supposed to be more comfortable, not less! With a sigh he flopped over onto his ass, proceeding to arch his back and stretch arm and wing over his head and delivering an unreasonably loud series of pops into the quiet cave as his joints cracked. He narrowed his eyes as he turned his wings over, inspecting the twigs that pulled his feathers just the right way to itch and tickle where they weren't wanted.

With another shallow sigh he started picking through them, carefully untangling the torn leaves and bits of fragile wood as he blankly surveyed the rest of the cave. He spied only one other awake, and blinked blearily at them for a moment, fingers mindlessly combing feathers all the while. Finally he yawned and managed to focus and wake up enough to register Flick keeping watch over them. Something eased in his chest at the sight, something he refused to name but nagged at him all the same.

"Mmmmmm~," he hummed, with despondent emphasis. "Nature sucks." He delivered flatly, making his way to his feet and skirting the cave to slip past Flick beyond the mouth of the cave and into the dawning sunrise, lingering at the entrance and easily within reach of the elder boy. He gave a low cooing-hiss at the sight of the light, sounding more serpentine than at all like a bird, and he did not so much place the sunglasses over his eyes as simply jab himself in the face with them at record speed, somehow managing to rip them from their place on the neck of his shirt and both set them on his nose and not poke his eyes out.

"Next time I'm taking night watch." He says, voice still thick with sleep despite his lightning reaction to shield his eyes from the sun, and then he immediately forgot his decree moments after it left his mouth. "I'm starved, did you stab anything tasty in the night Flick?" He questioned, making a vage jabbing gesture and turning just a bit too sharply to face him, nearly slipping on a dew-covered mossy rock. He splayed his hands out to steady himself before he could fall fully, and in the process roughly ripped out a twig he'd been slowly working out of carefully grasped wing.

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Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

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Imagio

FC: KEIYNAN LONSDALE :P

Name: Dizzy
Age: 16
Gender: M
DNA: Great White Egret (Ardea alba), White Winged Vampire Bat (Diaemus youngi)

Personality:

Dizzy isn’t selfish, more so he’s simply thoughtless and short sighted with an unhealthy side dish of oblivious. He likes his solitude and space, often resulting in a noticeable rift between him and the rest of the Flock, but he’s not heartless or uncaring, and secretly he does enjoy the love and comfort of his peers, he just doesn’t like to encourage them lest they get carried away. He has a brave and adventurous streak as well, enjoying exploration and daring to toe the rules.

Appearance:

Dizzy is short for his kind, but average on the whole. He enjoys a rather athletic build, excelling in the fitness trials. He has thick dark hair, warm brown skin, and wide dark eyes. He is hardly ever seen without either his tinted training goggles or his pair of cheap shades, designed to help him function in normal lighting without blinding his sensitive eyes. Smiles are few and far between, hiding his unusually straight teeth due to their less than human appearance, each of them pointedly sharp, making his genuine smiles small and unrevealing, and his wide grins more threatening. His wings are thick with curling soft white feathers, and they have a trim of even brighter white along the wing tips. His clothing choices are not typically form fitting, often consisting of worn, ripped, or faded articles that are too small or too large, but he hordes bright colors and trendy accessories, like earrings and bandanas.

Other:

Dizzy’s name is well earned, he was often confused and not quite ‘all there’ as a kid. “What?” is still his catch phrase even years after he overcame his ‘dizzy spells.’ Combining this and his easily distracted mind with his uncomfortably precise hearing and tendency to be blinded by even mediocre lighting and Dizzy did indeed spend quite a lot of time being dizzy.

His unusual attributes, the ones outside the norm for the Flock, include weaknesses as well as strengths; such as his supernaturally advanced hearing, and the drawback of being overly sensitive to loud noises and easily distracted by faraway sounds. Similarly his night vision is better than most humans can see in the day, but even average day-time or artificial light levels can blind him. Dizzy also has a not so subtle vampire’s bite, with many of his teeth being unusually pointed, specifically his canines and first premolars, and his saliva is full of powerful anticoagulants which make his bite likely to make his opponent bleed out if they aren’t careful. Dizzy’s fangs aren’t the only sharp weapon in his body’s repertoire though, he also has a set of mean claws, unassuming at first glance, but subtly hooked and thick, strong and sharp enough to tear skin, if only to make shallow cuts. Of his more relative to the Flock skills, Dizzy has taken to flying and strength with great talent, but flounders when made to apply too much grace or agility, however he does have an impressive sprint, and a positively predatory leap.

History:

At his youngest the scientists neglected Dizzy, leaving him to his own devices apart from the few times they attempted to make him pay attention to lectures or get concrete answers on his tests out of him, but usually he was simply subjected to basic scans and assessments before being left in his cage to amuse himself- which he did, listening to everything going on rooms away and playing with his food and generally avoiding the other children. Finally he was deemed old enough to be given proper medication for his inattention, and after a slew of vomit- and fever-inducing drug trials, they worked out a specially tailored attention-boosting drug just for him. Eventually he outgrew the ‘dizzy spells’ and no longer needed it, culminating in a nasty bout of withdrawal when they stopped giving it to him, but for the majority of his childhood he needed aids and special treatment the other children didn’t- and was constantly reprimanded and made to pay for it.

He was sensitive to light, he could see all the right colors- mostly, sometimes purple was iffy - but his eyes couldn’t process the excess brightness and resulted in copious amounts of squinting and shielding his eyes before finally someone bought him a cheap pair of sunglasses from the supermarket, and then eventually a pair of tinted pool goggles from the same place when the glasses kept falling off during physical training. Alarms and too-loud simulations quickly overwhelmed him, causing him such pain as to collapse screaming and clutching at his ears, the persistent ringing staying with him for days afterward, and so the scientists gave him ear plugs, which he constantly lost, resulting in the Flock finding a lone misplaced earbud in their personal space on a regular basis no matter where they went or what they were doing.

About the time puberty struck Dizzy began to make great strides in overcoming his ‘disabilities’, building up a resistance to louder and louder noises, and maintaining some sense of sight in most well-lit rooms, though both situations left him extremely uncomfortable and often with the dull throb of constant pain behind his eyes and in his ear drums. Other changes came to him, his adult teeth had been coming in oddly shaped for a while then, but the last of them pushed through as a set of questionably unsubtle fangs, and his tests revealed unique properties in his saliva. It was then that he stopped being the failure runt of the litter, setting off to training and exams with something to prove; and for his efforts he began excelling in class and on the mat, mostly on par with the rest of Flock for once, sometimes even managing to edge out the others and make the top score.

Going on seventeen Dizzy has both settled into his skin, and not. He feels awkward and estranged from the others, having taken much longer to tie that familial bond, and then saddled with the need to prove he was just as good as them he’d stepped on more than one set of toes, and fended off more than one kind gesture. He’s much less moody these days, not as standoffish, but distant all the same. He’s as invested in this gamble for freedom as any of them, but if anyone’s most likely to wander off without a word and never be heard from again, it would be Dizzy. An unlikely scenario, he’d be lonely, and for all his eye-rolling and hasty retreats for a moment of solitude, he does care for his kin... he just maybe also cares for going to the cinema by himself, without telling anyone. And the beach. And maybe that flashy distracting concert down the street. Also, those cats are cute and he may spend a few hours following them around town if left unsupervised, and really who needs supervision? Not Dizzy, that’s for sure. (Dizzy. Dizzy needs supervision.)

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Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

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Imagio

FC: KEIYNAN LONSDALE :P

Name: Dizzy
Age: 16
Gender: M
DNA: Great White Egret (Ardea alba), White Winged Vampire Bat (Diaemus youngi)

Personality:

Dizzy isn’t selfish, more so he’s simply thoughtless and short sighted with an unhealthy side dish of oblivious. He likes his solitude and space, often resulting in a noticeable rift between him and the rest of the Flock, but he’s not heartless or uncaring, and secretly he does enjoy the love and comfort of his peers, he just doesn’t like to encourage them lest they get carried away. He has a brave and adventurous streak as well, enjoying exploration and daring to toe the rules.

Appearance:

Dizzy is short for his kind, but average on the whole. He enjoys a rather athletic build, excelling in the fitness trials. He has thick dark hair, warm brown skin, and wide dark eyes. He is hardly ever seen without either his tinted training goggles or his pair of cheap shades, designed to help him function in normal lighting without blinding his sensitive eyes. Smiles are few and far between, hiding his unusually straight teeth due to their less than human appearance, each of them pointedly sharp, making his genuine smiles small and unrevealing, and his wide grins more threatening. His wings are thick with curling soft white feathers, and they have a trim of even brighter white along the wing tips. His clothing choices are not typically form fitting, often consisting of worn, ripped, or faded articles that are too small or too large, but he hordes bright colors and trendy accessories, like earrings and bandanas.

Other:

Dizzy’s name is well earned, he was often confused and not quite ‘all there’ as a kid. “What?” is still his catch phrase even years after he overcame his ‘dizzy spells.’ Combining this and his easily distracted mind with his uncomfortably precise hearing and tendency to be blinded by even mediocre lighting and Dizzy did indeed spend quite a lot of time being dizzy.

His unusual attributes, the ones outside the norm for the Flock, include weaknesses as well as strengths; such as his supernaturally advanced hearing, and the drawback of being overly sensitive to loud noises and easily distracted by faraway sounds. Similarly his night vision is better than most humans can see in the day, but even average day-time or artificial light levels can blind him. Dizzy also has a not so subtle vampire’s bite, with many of his teeth being unusually pointed, specifically his canines and first premolars, and his saliva is full of powerful anticoagulants which make his bite likely to make his opponent bleed out if they aren’t careful. Dizzy’s fangs aren’t the only sharp weapon in his body’s repertoire though, he also has a set of mean claws, unassuming at first glance, but subtly hooked and thick, strong and sharp enough to tear skin, if only to make shallow cuts. Of his more relative to the Flock skills, Dizzy has taken to flying and strength with great talent, but flounders when made to apply too much grace or agility, however he does have an impressive sprint, and a positively predatory leap.

History:

At his youngest the scientists neglected Dizzy, leaving him to his own devices apart from the few times they attempted to make him pay attention to lectures or get concrete answers on his tests out of him, but usually he was simply subjected to basic scans and assessments before being left in his cage to amuse himself- which he did, listening to everything going on rooms away and playing with his food and generally avoiding the other children. Finally he was deemed old enough to be given proper medication for his inattention, and after a slew of vomit- and fever-inducing drug trials, they worked out a specially tailored attention-boosting drug just for him. Eventually he outgrew the ‘dizzy spells’ and no longer needed it, culminating in a nasty bout of withdrawal when they stopped giving it to him, but for the majority of his childhood he needed aids and special treatment the other children didn’t- and was constantly reprimanded and made to pay for it.

He was sensitive to light, he could see all the right colors- mostly, sometimes purple was iffy - but his eyes couldn’t process the excess brightness and resulted in copious amounts of squinting and shielding his eyes before finally someone bought him a cheap pair of sunglasses from the supermarket, and then eventually a pair of tinted pool goggles from the same place when the glasses kept falling off during physical training. Alarms and too-loud simulations quickly overwhelmed him, causing him such pain as to collapse screaming and clutching at his ears, the persistent ringing staying with him for days afterward, and so the scientists gave him ear plugs, which he constantly lost, resulting in the Flock finding a lone misplaced earbud in their personal space on a regular basis no matter where they went or what they were doing.

About the time puberty struck Dizzy began to make great strides in overcoming his ‘disabilities’, building up a resistance to louder and louder noises, and maintaining some sense of sight in most well-lit rooms, though both situations left him extremely uncomfortable and often with the dull throb of constant pain behind his eyes and in his ear drums. Other changes came to him, his adult teeth had been coming in oddly shaped for a while then, but the last of them pushed through as a set of questionably unsubtle fangs, and his tests revealed unique properties in his saliva. It was then that he stopped being the failure runt of the litter, setting off to training and exams with something to prove; and for his efforts he began excelling in class and on the mat, mostly on par with the rest of Flock for once, sometimes even managing to edge out the others and make the top score.

Going on seventeen Dizzy has both settled into his skin, and not. He feels awkward and estranged from the others, having taken much longer to tie that familial bond, and then saddled with the need to prove he was just as good as them he’d stepped on more than one set of toes, and fended off more than one kind gesture. He’s much less moody these days, not as standoffish, but distant all the same. He’s as invested in this gamble for freedom as any of them, but if anyone’s most likely to wander off without a word and never be heard from again, it would be Dizzy. An unlikely scenario, he’d be lonely, and for all his eye-rolling and hasty retreats for a moment of solitude, he does care for his kin... he just maybe also cares for going to the cinema by himself, without telling anyone. And the beach. And maybe that flashy distracting concert down the street. Also, those cats are cute and he may spend a few hours following them around town if left unsupervised, and really who needs supervision? Not Dizzy, that’s for sure. (Dizzy. Dizzy needs supervision.)

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Worlds Apart

At some point Koda had zoned out, focusing on a growing babble in the back of his mind. He was nearly convinced he was a telepath, there was just no other way to explain the mental sense of voices surrounding every living thing he passed without defining it as outright insanity- which is why he labeled himself nearly convinced, insanity was still on the table after all. This new sound though, it didn’t sound like the others, and he seemed to be the only one to hear it, so he knew it must be his powers picking up on it, but it was so… clear. Not that that was any help, but when listening to the others’ minds it was like listening to a foreign language being whispered just behind his ear, this one was… not talking, but communicating to him. He swore he could see it, red triangles in the edges of his vision; no matter how quickly or slowly he turned to look they remained just out of clear sight, and they were so demanding.

But what do they want?

There was a cucumber in his hands, having appeared at some point, but… for all that he had fantasized about an all you can eat buffet, even a simply salad, anything to eat, now that it was here? There was nothing less appetizing in the world. It was weak, wasting, useless, why would such a thing ever be considered food? It had no strengths to contribute, no threat to dominate, no experiences to learn from- it was as good as dust.

He must have stared at the thing for hours- except no one seemed to notice his withdrawal from conversation, so maybe it hadn’t been long at all. As he contemplated the green slab of useless microstructures and detained dew drops his mind warred with his stomach, he couldn’t eat this, but he was so hungry he might just try it.

It didn’t occur to him that he would have considered this perfectly edible food not 24 hours ago, but now his mind was so… triangular. It had few sides and lots of sharp edges, he felt two dimensional and simple, but also just honed enough to rip and slice.

He’d infringed on Stormy’s personal space on auto pilot, not even realizing until he looked up from his empty hands, cucumber discarded at some unknown point, and found her just within grabbing distance.

She was different. Experiences to learn from, power to gain- or the potential anyway, and flesh and bone worthy of becoming… of becoming… part of me.

His hand fell on her shoulder, and he faintly noticed how dark his skin had gotten, taking an almost shiny violet hue reflecting the day’s light, and the previously transparent, thin covering of dark mist hovering around his skin was now opaque and billowing, reaching, almost like tendrils threatening to burrow deep into flesh. Perhaps they would, one mouth was a stupid idea, all of him should be able to eat. He tugged on her shoulder, just enough to tell her he wanted her attention, because he wanted to see her eyes, to look one last time directly into her mind so he could steal her experience as well as her flesh and her gift.

His mouth opened as she faced him, but for all that it looked like a smile, it was the last breath before his lunge. His lips stretched further than they had any right too, his teeth sharp and jagged and so inhuman, and his eyes narrowed into glowing red embers of hunger. ”All of it, give me all of it,” he whispered, half to himself, half to her, and then all semblance of humanity fled as he became a being of semi-solid shadow with a drive only to eat and grow and learn.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he realized something was wrong, that something terrible had happened and he was no longer as he used to be. But, at least he knew what the triangles wanted now, it was almost funny that their telepathic grumbles had so confounded him, they imitated a growling stomach perfectly.

Worlds Apart

The town was a bit picturesque in appearance, looking as if it'd fit perfectly in any common medieval work featuring small villages. It was a bit... disappointing to be honest. No one appeared as out of place as he and the other's who'd donned their Semblances did, though there was the small mercy that none of the villagers seemed to be freaking out, so there must be some precedent. He found his eyes drifting to windowsills, "D'you think it'd be too much to hope for someone to have left a pie out to cool? That's what they always do in the movies right?"

Koda's eyes caught on a color, a timid washed out grey, smogging across all the citizens like a cloud of weeping insects- oh, he was doing that thing where he didn't make any sense again. He blinked and the color was gone, just as with the others. He couldn't hear the villagers tho, they seemed distant somehow, or maybe... weak. He considered for a moment that maybe it was because they were normal, unchanged by a Semblance, but no, he could hear the unchanged members of their group just fine, even if they were just as incomprehensible as ever. It was suspicious, but also blessedly welcome; the others were getting a bit loud in his head. "We could stay a bit couldn't we? We should ask around, we don't know whats normal for this world, anyone could say anything and we'd just believe them. We could use a bit of an outside perspective right?" Second opinions were the lifeblood of the scientific community after all, and it was a practice the rest of the world could do well to learn; how much conflict could be solved if people actually communicated? How many discoveries could be made?

His train of thought was derailed suddenly, and his stomach gave a delayed echo of Stormy's previous grumble. "Also food is good. I'm starving, if you can make some magic beans I'm all for it." Okay, maybe not all for it, but right now he'd take it. Hopefully they wouldn't prove hallucinogenic or addictive... or inedible, obviously. Koda didn't have a very good grasp on his new abilities, and he didn't know if the other's were in a similar situation or not- though Ascot seemed to have things well in hand at least.

Dawn of The Coming Storm (Co-GMed with Eklispe this time!)

Logan Adley

Name: Logan Adley

Age: Eighteen.

Physical Description: Short blond hair, clear blue eyes, and tanned pale skin, Logan is pretty typical for all descriptors that come to mind when other’s find out he’s a white suburban middle-class teen. He presents a fit physique, obviously someone who works out, likely plays a sport of some kind, but rarely drops the serious unperturbed expression on his face. There are minor drifts in his appearance that set him apart from the ‘norm’ of suburban teens everywhere, namely the plentiful newly added piercings around his ears, which would never have been allowed by his parents,and the slightest hints of ‘edgier’ preferences seeping into his style in the form of band-tees, fingerless gloves, a rarely worn studded belt, all of which his mother would have nagged him about before eventually confiscating and disposing of them herself.

Sexy Boi

_{It’s Teddy Altman, aka Hulkling, if you’re interested to see better pictures of him, but this was the best I could find with him by himself instead of smooching Billy Kaplan--just saying, that’s a very nice ship.}

Important Items:

Rainbow Friendship Bracelet:

Rainbow Boi

A gift from Mary Jane Summers, an unlikely friend from school. The bracelet is simple, only a few braided colors tied together, but the bracelet has deep sentimental meaning for Logan.

Chinese Bead Necklace:

Beady Boi

Logan was pretty sure it was a scam, but a Chinese mystic recommended he take her necklace, and she told him it was made of cinnabar which was good for breeding stability and reinforcing independence. For a long time the necklace sat on his dresser unworn, but it is now one of the few things he takes with him everywhere.

Long Boi

Short Bio: There was no question about it; Logan Adley was king of Palo Vista High School. He was friendly and outgoing, an attractive member of the football team, he could sing, was invited to all the parties, knew everyone by name, and his parents were heavily involved in the community. For all perspectives looking in, Logan was on top of the world, but not everyone was blind to the cracks spreading wide across Palo Vista, nor was it missed that Logan Adley sat at the center of it all.

His parents were typically controlling and overbearing, policing his activities and interests, and they, like everyone else in town, were devout Christians and hard eyed conservatives. His brother was overlooked often, becoming wild and maybe a tad rebellious because of it, but Logan didn’t mind nearly as much as their parents. Logan felt he had little to complain about; his family loved him and came to all his games, always encouraging him and praising his successes, he knew his grades weren’t always the best but they were consistently high enough it didn’t matter, and he had talents he could pursue with his voice, and an endless number of friends to hang out with.

Things changed with Mary Jane Summers. They’d been distant friends, that kind of friends of friends that meant they were often in the same places and knew the same people, but didn’t interact much. She stopped coming to parties not long after they began their senior year, she stopped going anywhere really, and her friends began to move on without her. Logan couldn’t forget her though, everyday in school they would pass each other in the hall and she would slow, hesitate, as if she wanted to say something, but then she never did. It left him wondering though, because the worry in her eyes, the skittish flitting from class to class, it didn’t seem like a crush, like he might’ve assumed otherwise, instead it seemed like… like something was wrong.

He understood when she handed him a flyer between classes, passing it folded over so as the contents couldn’t be seen by others. ”Please come?” she’d asked nervously, “Even if I’m wrong about you?” He hadn’t understood until he read the flyer after she’d hurried away; a GSA meeting. Palo Vista did not have a GSA club, it did not have gays period. It just didn’t. Except it did, but not publicly.

So began the lies. His parents didn’t mind much if he went to Veronica’s party, they looked the other way, made plans to hang out with their own friends, but a GSA meeting? He told them he was going to Veronica’s party. He was the only one to turn up at Mary Jane’s door that Sunday, though he knew she’d given fliers to at least two others. He tried to forget he’d seen that.

Over the next few weeks they became friends, and Mary Jane visibly seemed to get better, coming out of her shell once more, walking calmly between classes, talking with her old friends again. She never returned to her old self though, and Logan began treading a bit more softly--his confidence had rubbed off on her as much as her fear had rubbed off on him.

Then came the book. He was with Mary Jane when he found it, studying together in the library. He didn’t remember picking it up, though he recalled how small it’d been, with a worn hard cover and faded pages within. The things he read… the things he learned… He hadn’t been able to stop reading until he looked up into Mary Jane’s wide frightened eyes, and then the book was gone.

He thought he’d understood her before, but with the book came the other half of her secret; she’d read one of the Records too, she could see people for what they were. It was why she was so scared; she saw what everyone in this town was capable of, saw what they thought, what they felt, what they could do if they knew. She saw him as he was then, what new knowledge filled his head, what he could do, and she laughed, because this was her fault, and now it was so much worse for him. Her magic was invasive, troublesome, maybe a little incomprehensible, but Logan’s? His magic was dangerous, blasphemous, imagine if-

The cracks in Palo Vista were now well and truly wide, and it wasn’t just him and Mary Jane dangling in the gaps. She told him of others with secrets, told him of every sin flowing through the sunny skies of this warm and cheerful suburban town.

Then she died.

It took only a day to topple the king of Palo Vista High School. Friendly, outgoing, kind, he was the star of the football team, he had an amazing singing voice, his grades were good and he had endless friends, his parents were nice to everyone and did so much work for the community. Then young Mary Jane Summers fell over six hundred feet down Maria’s Gorge, her body broken beyond repair, but her mind… sometimes dead men do tell tales.

Jeremiah Blake was the only son of Pastor Tobias Blake, he overheard Mary Jane when she told Logan about all the sins of the citizens of Palo Vista, especially the part where the Pastor was cheating on his wife. When Jeremiah confronted his father, the man demanded to know where he’d heard those ‘lies’ from. Once told, Tobias then held all the cards he could ever want, but first he had to protect himself.

Alexander Summers was an upstanding man who worked hard and always attended church, but he was a harsh husband and father and his wife accused him of abuse. Their divorce was the messiest Palo Vista had ever been, but it was quickly forgotten, their daughter bounced back and put the mess behind her with a sunny smile. For the first time in years Alexander reached out to his daughter, offering to spend time with her and mend bridges. Funny how that ended with her falling from one.

Mary Jane’s ghost told Logan everything he needed to know. His anger and grief made him raw, and irrational. He came to Mary Jane’s mother, who was being consoled by Alexander, and told them everything. Alexander did not take being outed very well, and Logan would wear the marks of the man’s retaliation for weeks afterwards. Mere hours later, far too many people to just dismiss were sitting in the church crying and overdramatizing their connection with the newly deceased, headed by Pastor Blake. Once Logan was finished with them, laying out every dirty dead he knew of, seven people were arrested on the spot, and dozens of shouting voices were hollering in the chaos- among them Logan’s own family. His mother disowned him, his father defended him, his brother… did nothing but look lost.

An agent of the government had been on their way to investigate the murder, by the time they arrived the town was in an uproar. Eventually they got the whole story and offered Logan an out, and by midnight Logan Adley was no longer king of Palo Vista High School, he wasn’t kind of anything.

He wasn’t grateful, he wasn’t lost, he wasn’t… upset, but he was changed. He had no delusions, the government would use him as long as he was useful; that’s what governments did, they turned people into resources, into tools, used them until they couldn’t anymore, forgot they were living breathing creatures with thoughts and feelings, and then they dropped them in the dirt and forgot about them. It was clear to him where he stood now, what his options were, what choices he had to make; and then he made them. There would be no more hiding, no more trusting, and definitely no more holding back.

Spell Boi

Spell List:

Underworld

Nekretairos (Dead Fellows): This spell not only beckons to disembodied spirits, calling them up so Logan may speak with them or ask favors of them, but can also grant the spirits a measure of influence on the physical world; allowing them to be seen, heard, and even touch tangible subjects. The summoned dead are not forced to obey him, nor compelled to be honest or even answer the call, but some measure of kinship is enforced by the spell, meaning the calmer, kinder, or even just bored spirits are more inclined to help, while the angrier, antagonistic, or cruel spirits would spurn or offend him. Ghosts of any kind can be summoned this way; human, mage, dog, whatever, but only if they remain in this realm: i.e. the recently deceased or those who refuse to move on.

• Ghosts who cease to be or are reincarnated cannot be summoned, and ghosts that have fallen into other realms, such as that of an underworld god or other such afterlife, must be contacted instead with the Pneumebelos spell.

_{neck-ret-air-os
Cooldown: 5 minutes, add 5 minutes if ghost is granted limited tangibility, add 10 minutes if granted total tangibility.}

Pneumebelos (Wicked Thresholds): A conjured portal to a supernatural realm, be they of demons, faeries, or even those of the more angelic inclinations. The connection established by the spell, linking two worlds, is temporary in every sense. Whatever goes in must come back out, and whatever comes out must go back in. Unlike Nekretairos, the spell does not inspire even a slight sense of kinship, instead whoever answers is free to act however they please and think whatever they want- and there’s always someone, or something, that answers, even if it isn't who or what was summoned. The portal is ‘locked’ at first, but allows communication to take place without opening, and it can be opened only on the side it’s conjured on, so Logan can summon the door and someone next to him can open it, but nothing on the other side will be able to unlock the portal.

• Deals made through this portal are not enforced by his own magic, as with the spell Prostheno, nor are they permanent, instead they rely on the other’s nature; demons or faeries or angels who can't lie or can't break their promise once made- creatures without such bindings may say whatever they like, and break their word as well. The only exception is to the permanence rule; bartering with a demon for power over fire will fail shortly after the portal closes, bartering with a demon for a weapon will also fail - unless the weapon is made of platinum.

_{new-meb-el-os
Cooldown: 30 minutes if unopened, add 30 minutes per traveler if opened.}

Prostheno (Sacred Debts): Deals made with Logan must be kept, the magic of the spell will make it so. There is no discrimination based on coercion, if Logan decides to torture someone until they agree to his deal the magic will accept that, and likewise if someone tortures Logan until he accepts their deal the magic will accept that also. Deals made this way are permanent and must perform a trade, the deal cannot be broken nor can something be conjured from nothing- not without the ability to do so at least. Logan can barter with a bilingual woman for her knowledge of a language, but he cannot barter the same with someone who only speaks one language. In the same analogy the bilingual woman would lose all knowledge of the language she traded away, but may relearn it again quicker than from scratch. In a different deal Logan might barter for a man’s belonging, once handed over the man could just snatch it back- unless part of the deal was not to try and reclaim it, and deals can be as complex as needed.

• To make a deal this way, the deal maker must say "Prostheno?" and once the the word "Prostheno." is returned the deal is made. The words need not be spoken, but the communication must be made, either in writing or through telepathy, or whatever means.

_{pro-sthen-O
Cooldown: N/A}

Eikotheion (Of Brimstone): Gathering the simmering underworld energy in his hands, Logan can throw a blob of harmful dark energy, formed like a smoldering smokey black substance with flecks of still burning ash within, which feels sharp and hot to touch, and sticks to whatever it lands on, digging in to cause as much damage as possible and be impossible to peel off. The energy is corrosive and will attempt to burn and rip at whatever it touches, be it living flesh or hard steel. After a few minutes the energy will begin to dissipate. The energy has no friends and leaves Logan’s fists more singed and scratched the longer he waits to throw it.
_{EYE-ko-thay-on
Cooldown: 5 minutes.}

Thanekros (Deathly Bearings): Logan’s body temporarily takes on the attributes of the dead, his appearance becoming thin, pale, and bruised, before vanishing from the sight of the average eye. He is able to see and hear, but he can make no sound nor touch anything but spirits. He is able to cast his magic, though with significantly more trouble and less effectiveness, and can be touched - and harmed - by magic or magic tools. His temperature drops uncomfortable amounts, which will leave him shivering and near hyperthermic when he returns to his old self, and the temperature around him while in this state will be noticeably colder. The bruises caused by the transformation will not heal when he reverts back either, and he will be physically exhausted and achy for a time afterwards, but while transformed he cannot be lethally injured- even if bisected by a magic blade or crushed by magical debris, he will still feel it when he reverts, but while ghost-like he can simply reform.
_{than-eh-kros
Cooldown: A week for every hour spent transformed.}

Anisoma (Risen Things): Bodies without spirits, no longer carrying out the functions of life, but bearing that hole where the spirit once was, can be raised to serve Logan’s commands. The longer a creature is raised the more intelligent it gets, but also the more independent. The magic fueling the undead slowly becomes more potent as time goes on, movements becoming smoother and more lifelike, until they reach a peak equivalent to a living version of themselves. Disrupting the magic in any way however, such as lopping off a large enough body part or even just canceling the spell, will instantly cause them to fail and return to an uncontrolled, unaugmented state.
_{an-ih-so-ma
Cooldown: 20 minutes, regardless of how many are raised.}

Dawn of The Coming Storm (Co-GMed with Eklispe this time!)

Logan Adley

Name: Logan Adley

Age: Eighteen.

Physical Description: Short blond hair, clear blue eyes, and tanned pale skin, Logan is pretty typical for all descriptors that come to mind when other’s find out he’s a white suburban middle-class teen. He presents a fit physique, obviously someone who works out, likely plays a sport of some kind, but rarely drops the serious unperturbed expression on his face. There are minor drifts in his appearance that set him apart from the ‘norm’ of suburban teens everywhere, namely the plentiful newly added piercings around his ears, which would never have been allowed by his parents,and the slightest hints of ‘edgier’ preferences seeping into his style in the form of band-tees, fingerless gloves, a rarely worn studded belt, all of which his mother would have nagged him about before eventually confiscating and disposing of them herself.

Sexy Boi

_{It’s Teddy Altman, aka Hulkling, if you’re interested to see better pictures of him, but this was the best I could find with him by himself instead of smooching Billy Kaplan--just saying, that’s a very nice ship.}

Important Items:

Rainbow Friendship Bracelet:

Rainbow Boi

A gift from Mary Jane Summers, an unlikely friend from school. The bracelet is simple, only a few braided colors tied together, but the bracelet has deep sentimental meaning for Logan.

Chinese Bead Necklace:

Beady Boi

Logan was pretty sure it was a scam, but a Chinese mystic recommended he take her necklace, and she told him it was made of cinnabar which was good for breeding stability and reinforcing independence. For a long time the necklace sat on his dresser unworn, but it is now one of the few things he takes with him everywhere.

Long Boi

Short Bio: There was no question about it; Logan Adley was king of Palo Vista High School. He was friendly and outgoing, an attractive member of the football team, he could sing, was invited to all the parties, knew everyone by name, and his parents were heavily involved in the community. For all perspectives looking in, Logan was on top of the world, but not everyone was blind to the cracks spreading wide across Palo Vista, nor was it missed that Logan Adley sat at the center of it all.

His parents were typically controlling and overbearing, policing his activities and interests, and they, like everyone else in town, were devout Christians and hard eyed conservatives. His brother was overlooked often, becoming wild and maybe a tad rebellious because of it, but Logan didn’t mind nearly as much as their parents. Logan felt he had little to complain about; his family loved him and came to all his games, always encouraging him and praising his successes, he knew his grades weren’t always the best but they were consistently high enough it didn’t matter, and he had talents he could pursue with his voice, and an endless number of friends to hang out with.

Things changed with Mary Jane Summers. They’d been distant friends, that kind of friends of friends that meant they were often in the same places and knew the same people, but didn’t interact much. She stopped coming to parties not long after they began their senior year, she stopped going anywhere really, and her friends began to move on without her. Logan couldn’t forget her though, everyday in school they would pass each other in the hall and she would slow, hesitate, as if she wanted to say something, but then she never did. It left him wondering though, because the worry in her eyes, the skittish flitting from class to class, it didn’t seem like a crush, like he might’ve assumed otherwise, instead it seemed like… like something was wrong.

He understood when she handed him a flyer between classes, passing it folded over so as the contents couldn’t be seen by others. ”Please come?” she’d asked nervously, “Even if I’m wrong about you?” He hadn’t understood until he read the flyer after she’d hurried away; a GSA meeting. Palo Vista did not have a GSA club, it did not have gays period. It just didn’t. Except it did, but not publicly.

So began the lies. His parents didn’t mind much if he went to Veronica’s party, they looked the other way, made plans to hang out with their own friends, but a GSA meeting? He told them he was going to Veronica’s party. He was the only one to turn up at Mary Jane’s door that Sunday, though he knew she’d given fliers to at least two others. He tried to forget he’d seen that.

Over the next few weeks they became friends, and Mary Jane visibly seemed to get better, coming out of her shell once more, walking calmly between classes, talking with her old friends again. She never returned to her old self though, and Logan began treading a bit more softly--his confidence had rubbed off on her as much as her fear had rubbed off on him.

Then came the book. He was with Mary Jane when he found it, studying together in the library. He didn’t remember picking it up, though he recalled how small it’d been, with a worn hard cover and faded pages within. The things he read… the things he learned… He hadn’t been able to stop reading until he looked up into Mary Jane’s wide frightened eyes, and then the book was gone.

He thought he’d understood her before, but with the book came the other half of her secret; she’d read one of the Records too, she could see people for what they were. It was why she was so scared; she saw what everyone in this town was capable of, saw what they thought, what they felt, what they could do if they knew. She saw him as he was then, what new knowledge filled his head, what he could do, and she laughed, because this was her fault, and now it was so much worse for him. Her magic was invasive, troublesome, maybe a little incomprehensible, but Logan’s? His magic was dangerous, blasphemous, imagine if-

The cracks in Palo Vista were now well and truly wide, and it wasn’t just him and Mary Jane dangling in the gaps. She told him of others with secrets, told him of every sin flowing through the sunny skies of this warm and cheerful suburban town.

Then she died.

It took only a day to topple the king of Palo Vista High School. Friendly, outgoing, kind, he was the star of the football team, he had an amazing singing voice, his grades were good and he had endless friends, his parents were nice to everyone and did so much work for the community. Then young Mary Jane Summers fell over six hundred feet down Maria’s Gorge, her body broken beyond repair, but her mind… sometimes dead men do tell tales.

Jeremiah Blake was the only son of Pastor Tobias Blake, he overheard Mary Jane when she told Logan about all the sins of the citizens of Palo Vista, especially the part where the Pastor was cheating on his wife. When Jeremiah confronted his father, the man demanded to know where he’d heard those ‘lies’ from. Once told, Tobias then held all the cards he could ever want, but first he had to protect himself.

Alexander Summers was an upstanding man who worked hard and always attended church, but he was a harsh husband and father and his wife accused him of abuse. Their divorce was the messiest Palo Vista had ever been, but it was quickly forgotten, their daughter bounced back and put the mess behind her with a sunny smile. For the first time in years Alexander reached out to his daughter, offering to spend time with her and mend bridges. Funny how that ended with her falling from one.

Mary Jane’s ghost told Logan everything he needed to know. His anger and grief made him raw, and irrational. He came to Mary Jane’s mother, who was being consoled by Alexander, and told them everything. Alexander did not take being outed very well, and Logan would wear the marks of the man’s retaliation for weeks afterwards. Mere hours later, far too many people to just dismiss were sitting in the church crying and overdramatizing their connection with the newly deceased, headed by Pastor Blake. Once Logan was finished with them, laying out every dirty dead he knew of, seven people were arrested on the spot, and dozens of shouting voices were hollering in the chaos- among them Logan’s own family. His mother disowned him, his father defended him, his brother… did nothing but look lost.

An agent of the government had been on their way to investigate the murder, by the time they arrived the town was in an uproar. Eventually they got the whole story and offered Logan an out, and by midnight Logan Adley was no longer king of Palo Vista High School, he wasn’t kind of anything.

He wasn’t grateful, he wasn’t lost, he wasn’t… upset, but he was changed. He had no delusions, the government would use him as long as he was useful; that’s what governments did, they turned people into resources, into tools, used them until they couldn’t anymore, forgot they were living breathing creatures with thoughts and feelings, and then they dropped them in the dirt and forgot about them. It was clear to him where he stood now, what his options were, what choices he had to make; and then he made them. There would be no more hiding, no more trusting, and definitely no more holding back.

Spell Boi

Spell List:

Underworld

Nekretairos (Dead Fellows): This spell not only beckons to disembodied spirits, calling them up so Logan may speak with them or ask favors of them, but can also grant the spirits a measure of influence on the physical world; allowing them to be seen, heard, and even touch tangible subjects. The summoned dead are not forced to obey him, nor compelled to be honest or even answer the call, but some measure of kinship is enforced by the spell, meaning the calmer, kinder, or even just bored spirits are more inclined to help, while the angrier, antagonistic, or cruel spirits would spurn or offend him. Ghosts of any kind can be summoned this way; human, mage, dog, whatever, but only if they remain in this realm: i.e. the recently deceased or those who refuse to move on.

• Ghosts who cease to be or are reincarnated cannot be summoned, and ghosts that have fallen into other realms, such as that of an underworld god or other such afterlife, must be contacted instead with the Pneumebelos spell.

_{neck-ret-air-os
Cooldown: 5 minutes, add 5 minutes if ghost is granted limited tangibility, add 10 minutes if granted total tangibility.}

Pneumebelos (Wicked Thresholds): A conjured portal to a supernatural realm, be they of demons, faeries, or even those of the more angelic inclinations. The connection established by the spell, linking two worlds, is temporary in every sense. Whatever goes in must come back out, and whatever comes out must go back in. Unlike Nekretairos, the spell does not inspire even a slight sense of kinship, instead whoever answers is free to act however they please and think whatever they want- and there’s always someone, or something, that answers, even if it isn't who or what was summoned. The portal is ‘locked’ at first, but allows communication to take place without opening, and it can be opened only on the side it’s conjured on, so Logan can summon the door and someone next to him can open it, but nothing on the other side will be able to unlock the portal.

• Deals made through this portal are not enforced by his own magic, as with the spell Prostheno, nor are they permanent, instead they rely on the other’s nature; demons or faeries or angels who can't lie or can't break their promise once made- creatures without such bindings may say whatever they like, and break their word as well. The only exception is to the permanence rule; bartering with a demon for power over fire will fail shortly after the portal closes, bartering with a demon for a weapon will also fail - unless the weapon is made of platinum.

_{new-meb-el-os
Cooldown: 30 minutes if unopened, add 30 minutes per traveler if opened.}

Prostheno (Sacred Debts): Deals made with Logan must be kept, the magic of the spell will make it so. There is no discrimination based on coercion, if Logan decides to torture someone until they agree to his deal the magic will accept that, and likewise if someone tortures Logan until he accepts their deal the magic will accept that also. Deals made this way are permanent and must perform a trade, the deal cannot be broken nor can something be conjured from nothing- not without the ability to do so at least. Logan can barter with a bilingual woman for her knowledge of a language, but he cannot barter the same with someone who only speaks one language. In the same analogy the bilingual woman would lose all knowledge of the language she traded away, but may relearn it again quicker than from scratch. In a different deal Logan might barter for a man’s belonging, once handed over the man could just snatch it back- unless part of the deal was not to try and reclaim it, and deals can be as complex as needed.
_{pro-sthen-O
Cooldown: N/A}

Eikotheion (Of Brimstone): Gathering the simmering underworld energy in his hands, Logan can throw a blob of harmful dark energy, formed like a smoldering smokey black substance with flecks of still burning ash within, which feels sharp and hot to touch, and sticks to whatever it lands on, digging in to cause as much damage as possible and be impossible to peel off. The energy is corrosive and will attempt to burn and rip at whatever it touches, be it living flesh or hard steel. After a few minutes the energy will begin to dissipate. The energy has no friends and leaves Logan’s fists more singed and scratched the longer he waits to throw it.
_{EYE-ko-thay-on
Cooldown: 5 minutes.}

Thanekros (Deathly Bearings): Logan’s body temporarily takes on the attributes of the dead, his appearance becoming thin, pale, and bruised, before vanishing from the sight of the average eye. He is able to see and hear, but he can make no sound nor touch anything but spirits. He is able to cast his magic, though with significantly more trouble and less effectiveness, and can be touched - and harmed - by magic or magic tools. His temperature drops uncomfortable amounts, which will leave him shivering and near hyperthermic when he returns to his old self, and the temperature around him while in this state will be noticeably colder. The bruises caused by the transformation will not heal when he reverts back either, and he will be physically exhausted and achy for a time afterwards, but while transformed he cannot be lethally injured- even if bisected by a magic blade or crushed by magical debris, he will still feel it when he reverts, but while ghost-like he can simply reform.
_{than-eh-kros
Cooldown: A week for every hour spent transformed.}

Anisoma (Risen Things): Bodies without spirits, no longer carrying out the functions of life, but bearing that hole where the spirit once was, can be raised to serve Logan’s commands. The longer a creature is raised the more intelligent it gets, but also the more independent. The magic fueling the undead slowly becomes more potent as time goes on, movements becoming smoother and more lifelike, until they reach a peak equivalent to a living version of themselves. Disrupting the magic in any way however, such as lopping off a large enough body part or even just canceling the spell, will instantly cause them to fail and return to an uncontrolled, unaugmented state.
_{an-ih-so-ma
Cooldown: 20 minutes, regardless of how many are raised.}

@Ceta de Cloyes

Orite, @Letter Bee @Eklispe

Dawn of The Coming Storm (Co-GMed with Eklispe this time!)

Logan Adley

Name: Logan Adley

Age: Eighteen.

Physical Description: Short blond hair, clear blue eyes, and tanned pale skin, Logan is pretty typical for all descriptors that come to mind when other’s find out he’s a white suburban middle-class teen. He presents a fit physique, obviously someone who works out, likely plays a sport of some kind, but rarely drops the serious unperturbed expression on his face. There are minor drifts in his appearance that set him apart from the ‘norm’ of suburban teens everywhere, namely the plentiful newly added piercings around his ears, which would never have been allowed by his parents,and the slightest hints of ‘edgier’ preferences seeping into his style in the form of band-tees, fingerless gloves, a rarely worn studded belt, all of which his mother would have nagged him about before eventually confiscating and disposing of them herself.

Sexy Boi

_{It’s Teddy Altman, aka Hulkling, if you’re interested to see better pictures of him, but this was the best I could find with him by himself instead of smooching Billy Kaplan--just saying, that’s a very nice ship.}

Important Items:

Rainbow Friendship Bracelet:

Rainbow Boi

A gift from Mary Jane Summers, an unlikely friend from school. The bracelet is simple, only a few braided colors tied together, but the bracelet has deep sentimental meaning for Logan.

Chinese Bead Necklace:

Beady Boi

Logan was pretty sure it was a scam, but a Chinese mystic recommended he take her necklace, and she told him it was made of cinnabar which was good for breeding stability and reinforcing independence. For a long time the necklace sat on his dresser unworn, but it is now one of the few things he takes with him everywhere.

Long Boi

Short Bio: There was no question about it; Logan Adley was king of Palo Vista High School. He was friendly and outgoing, an attractive member of the football team, he could sing, was invited to all the parties, knew everyone by name, and his parents were heavily involved in the community. For all perspectives looking in, Logan was on top of the world, but not everyone was blind to the cracks spreading wide across Palo Vista, nor was it missed that Logan Adley sat at the center of it all.

His parents were typically controlling and overbearing, policing his activities and interests, and they, like everyone else in town, were devout Christians and hard eyed conservatives. His brother was overlooked often, becoming wild and maybe a tad rebellious because of it, but Logan didn’t mind nearly as much as their parents. Logan felt he had little to complain about; his family loved him and came to all his games, always encouraging him and praising his successes, he knew his grades weren’t always the best but they were consistently high enough it didn’t matter, and he had talents he could pursue with his voice, and an endless number of friends to hang out with.

Things changed with Mary Jane Summers. They’d been distant friends, that kind of friends of friends that meant they were often in the same places and knew the same people, but didn’t interact much. She stopped coming to parties not long after they began their senior year, she stopped going anywhere really, and her friends began to move on without her. Logan couldn’t forget her though, everyday in school they would pass each other in the hall and she would slow, hesitate, as if she wanted to say something, but then she never did. It left him wondering though, because the worry in her eyes, the skittish flitting from class to class, it didn’t seem like a crush, like he might’ve assumed otherwise, instead it seemed like… like something was wrong.

He understood when she handed him a flyer between classes, passing it folded over so as the contents couldn’t be seen by others. ”Please come?” she’d asked nervously, “Even if I’m wrong about you?” He hadn’t understood until he read the flyer after she’d hurried away; a GSA meeting. Palo Vista did not have a GSA club, it did not have gays period. It just didn’t. Except it did, but not publicly.

So began the lies. His parents didn’t mind much if he went to Veronica’s party, they looked the other way, made plans to hang out with their own friends, but a GSA meeting? He told them he was going to Veronica’s party. He was the only one to turn up at Mary Jane’s door that Sunday, though he knew she’d given fliers to at least two others. He tried to forget he’d seen that.

Over the next few weeks they became friends, and Mary Jane visibly seemed to get better, coming out of her shell once more, walking calmly between classes, talking with her old friends again. She never returned to her old self though, and Logan began treading a bit more softly--his confidence had rubbed off on her as much as her fear had rubbed off on him.

Then came the book. He was with Mary Jane when he found it, studying together in the library. He didn’t remember picking it up, though he recalled how small it’d been, with a worn hard cover and faded pages within. The things he read… the things he learned… He hadn’t been able to stop reading until he looked up into Mary Jane’s wide frightened eyes, and then the book was gone.

He thought he’d understood her before, but with the book came the other half of her secret; she’d read one of the Records too, she could see people for what they were. It was why she was so scared; she saw what everyone in this town was capable of, saw what they thought, what they felt, what they could do if they knew. She saw him as he was then, what new knowledge filled his head, what he could do, and she laughed, because this was her fault, and now it was so much worse for him. Her magic was invasive, troublesome, maybe a little incomprehensible, but Logan’s? His magic was dangerous, blasphemous, imagine if-

The cracks in Palo Vista were now well and truly wide, and it wasn’t just him and Mary Jane dangling in the gaps. She told him of others with secrets, told him of every sin flowing through the sunny skies of this warm and cheerful suburban town.

Then she died.

It took only a day to topple the king of Palo Vista High School. Friendly, outgoing, kind, he was the star of the football team, he had an amazing singing voice, his grades were good and he had endless friends, his parents were nice to everyone and did so much work for the community. Then young Mary Jane Summers fell over six hundred feet down Maria’s Gorge, her body broken beyond repair, but her mind… sometimes dead men do tell tales.

Jeremiah Blake was the only son of Pastor Tobias Blake, he overheard Mary Jane when she told Logan about all the sins of the citizens of Palo Vista, especially the part where the Pastor was cheating on his wife. When Jeremiah confronted his father, the man demanded to know where he’d heard those ‘lies’ from. Once told, Tobias then held all the cards he could ever want, but first he had to protect himself.

Alexander Summers was an upstanding man who worked hard and always attended church, but he was a harsh husband and father and his wife accused him of abuse. Their divorce was the messiest Palo Vista had ever been, but it was quickly forgotten, their daughter bounced back and put the mess behind her with a sunny smile. For the first time in years Alexander reached out to his daughter, offering to spend time with her and mend bridges. Funny how that ended with her falling from one.

Mary Jane’s ghost told Logan everything he needed to know. His anger and grief made him raw, and irrational. He came to Mary Jane’s mother, who was being consoled by Alexander, and told them everything. Alexander did not take being outed very well, and Logan would wear the marks of the man’s retaliation for weeks afterwards. Mere hours later, far too many people to just dismiss were sitting in the church crying and overdramatizing their connection with the newly deceased, headed by Pastor Blake. Once Logan was finished with them, laying out every dirty dead he knew of, seven people were arrested on the spot, and dozens of shouting voices were hollering in the chaos- among them Logan’s own family. His mother disowned him, his father defended him, his brother… did nothing but look lost.

An agent of the government had been on their way to investigate the murder, by the time they arrived the town was in an uproar. Eventually they got the whole story and offered Logan an out, and by midnight Logan Adley was no longer king of Palo Vista High School, he wasn’t kind of anything.

He wasn’t grateful, he wasn’t lost, he wasn’t… upset, but he was changed. He had no delusions, the government would use him as long as he was useful; that’s what governments did, they turned people into resources, into tools, used them until they couldn’t anymore, forgot they were living breathing creatures with thoughts and feelings, and then they dropped them in the dirt and forgot about them. It was clear to him where he stood now, what his options were, what choices he had to make; and then he made them. There would be no more hiding, no more trusting, and definitely no more holding back.

Spell Boi

Spell List:

Underworld

Nekretairos (Dead Fellows): This spell not only beckons to disembodied spirits, calling them up so Logan may speak with them or ask favors of them, but can also grant the spirits a measure of influence on the physical world; allowing them to be seen, heard, and even touch tangible subjects. The summoned dead are not forced to obey him, nor compelled to be honest or even answer the call, but some measure of kinship is enforced by the spell, meaning the calmer, kinder, or even just bored spirits are more inclined to help, while the angrier, antagonistic, or cruel spirits would spurn or offend him. Ghosts of any kind can be summoned this way; human, mage, dog, whatever, but only if they remain in this realm: i.e. the recently deceased or those who refuse to move on.

• Ghosts who cease to be or are reincarnated cannot be summoned, and ghosts that have fallen into other realms, such as that of an underworld god or other such afterlife, must be contacted instead with the Pneumebelos spell.

_{neck-ret-air-os
Cooldown: 5 minutes, add 5 minutes if ghost is granted limited tangibility, add 10 minutes if granted total tangibility.}

Pneumebelos (Wicked Thresholds): A conjured portal to a supernatural realm, be they of demons, faeries, or even those of the more angelic inclinations. The connection established by the spell, linking two worlds, is temporary in every sense. Whatever goes in must come back out, and whatever comes out must go back in. Unlike Nekretairos, the spell does not inspire even a slight sense of kinship, instead whoever answers is free to act however they please and think whatever they want- and there’s always someone, or something, that answers, even if it isn't who or what was summoned. The portal is ‘locked’ at first, but allows communication to take place without opening, and it can be opened only on the side it’s conjured on, so Logan can summon the door and someone next to him can open it, but nothing on the other side will be able to unlock the portal.

• Deals made through this portal are not enforced by his own magic, as with the spell Prostheno, nor are they permanent, instead they rely on the other’s nature; demons or faeries or angels who can't lie or can't break their promise once made- creatures without such bindings may say whatever they like, and break their word as well. The only exception is to the permanence rule; bartering with a demon for power over fire will fail shortly after the portal closes, bartering with a demon for a weapon will also fail - unless the weapon is made of platinum.

_{new-meb-el-os
Cooldown: 30 minutes if unopened, add 30 minutes per traveler if opened.}

Prostheno (Sacred Debts): Deals made with Logan must be kept, the magic of the spell will make it so. There is no discrimination based on coercion, if Logan decides to torture someone until they agree to his deal the magic will accept that, and likewise if someone tortures Logan until he accepts their deal the magic will accept that also. Deals made this way are permanent and must perform a trade, the deal cannot be broken nor can something be conjured from nothing- not without the ability to do so at least. Logan can barter with a bilingual woman for her knowledge of a language, but he cannot barter the same with someone who only speaks one language. In the same analogy the bilingual woman would lose all knowledge of the language she traded away, but may relearn it again quicker than from scratch. In a different deal Logan might barter for a man’s belonging, once handed over the man could just snatch it back- unless part of the deal was not to try and reclaim it, and deals can be as complex as needed.

• To make a deal this way, the deal maker must say "Prostheno?" and once the the word "Prostheno." is returned the deal is made. The words need not be spoken, but the communication must be made, either in writing or through telepathy, or whatever means.

_{pro-sthen-O
Cooldown: N/A}

Eikotheion (Of Brimstone): Gathering the simmering underworld energy in his hands, Logan can throw a blob of harmful dark energy, formed like a smoldering smokey black substance with flecks of still burning ash within, which feels sharp and hot to touch, and sticks to whatever it lands on, digging in to cause as much damage as possible and be impossible to peel off. The energy is corrosive and will attempt to burn and rip at whatever it touches, be it living flesh or hard steel. After a few minutes the energy will begin to dissipate. The energy has no friends and leaves Logan’s fists more singed and scratched the longer he waits to throw it.
_{EYE-ko-thay-on
Cooldown: 5 minutes.}

Thanekros (Deathly Bearings): Logan’s body temporarily takes on the attributes of the dead, his appearance becoming thin, pale, and bruised, before vanishing from the sight of the average eye. He is able to see and hear, but he can make no sound nor touch anything but spirits. He is able to cast his magic, though with significantly more trouble and less effectiveness, and can be touched - and harmed - by magic or magic tools. His temperature drops uncomfortable amounts, which will leave him shivering and near hyperthermic when he returns to his old self, and the temperature around him while in this state will be noticeably colder. The bruises caused by the transformation will not heal when he reverts back either, and he will be physically exhausted and achy for a time afterwards, but while transformed he cannot be lethally injured- even if bisected by a magic blade or crushed by magical debris, he will still feel it when he reverts, but while ghost-like he can simply reform.
_{than-eh-kros
Cooldown: A week for every hour spent transformed.}

Anisoma (Risen Things): Bodies without spirits, no longer carrying out the functions of life, but bearing that hole where the spirit once was, can be raised to serve Logan’s commands. The longer a creature is raised the more intelligent it gets, but also the more independent. The magic fueling the undead slowly becomes more potent as time goes on, movements becoming smoother and more lifelike, until they reach a peak equivalent to a living version of themselves. Disrupting the magic in any way however, such as lopping off a large enough body part or even just canceling the spell, will instantly cause them to fail and return to an uncontrolled, unaugmented state.
_{an-ih-so-ma
Cooldown: 20 minutes, regardless of how many are raised.}