DearTrickster

Neon Nohl [Brink & DearTrickster Cyberpunk 1x1]

_{❖ R E S E R V E D}

_{This post is Reserved for future shenanigans.}

Neon Nohl [Brink & DearTrickster Cyberpunk 1x1]

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Age
23
Date of Birth
2056
Current Residence
Vasileostrovsky District
Gender
Female

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Appearance

Varya slouches at a height of 5’6” - 170 cm, weighing in at a skinny 120 lbs - 54 kg. She often forgets to eat, prefers to snack throughout the day on various things from sweets to crackers. On the occasion someone is able to pull a smile from Varya they would see a mouth full of crooked teeth, a feature she is a little self conscious about but often forgets herself. Her long ashy blonde hair is often tied back while she is at work, but prefers to leave it down while at home or shopping for groceries. Gray eyes, much like her father’s, squint and stare at holographic screens. Varya notably doesn’t take or focus all that much on her appearance only where personal hygiene is concerned. Her hands are working hands, covered in spark marks and calluses.

For clothing she prefers comfort and functional, often in layers during the cold winter months of Russia. Differs to her dark red coveralls for work, and steel toed boots.

Personality

Idiosyncratic
“The first to go is always the weakest link of code, where you can see it crumble in real time.”

Blunt
“I know where you’ve been, picking your ass instead of working.”

Tactless
“I wonder how it must feel, miserable and cold. Your entire life savings disappearing in a blink- stop that, stop crying.”

Logical
“It’s obvious to me, if you cut away this useless program for heating seats you’re navigation systems processor increase 3%, adding better reaction time for the pilots.”

Curious
“What’s the secret? No, no. I need to know, tell me.”

Varya is often described as quirky and aloof by others around her, some learned to appreciate her bluntness while others grew to resent it. Varya has notably soft moments of sympathy toward people with cybernetics rejection and those who struggle with their new modifications, however has sworn off such modifications for herself after struggling with paying the very medical bills that ruined her father’s body. A ‘naturalist’ in terms of wanting to keep her body in its original shape and form. In her tactless blunders of refusing cybernetics, sometimes saying hurtful things to the very people she feels sympathy for. She struggles with her tone of voice and subtext. Prefers to speak her mind clearly but risks sounding cold or standoffish.

While Varya is at work she has a very specific unconventional way to program or code. It took her a fair amount of time to convince Oleg at Zero-One to hire her on. Proving her coding to increase efficiency in the vehicles that regularly had maintenance there. Once clientele provided feedback, Varya was hired on full time. As she struggles with her home life, but she loves the challenges Oleg throws for her. Puzzling out the more complicated software issues with a single minded focus. Allowing her to forget the outside world for a few hours of the work day. The single minded focus also applies to her curiosity, when something or someone grabs her attention.

History

Varya lived a rather middle class childhood, in St Petersburg on the west end of the city, Centralniy district. Her father Anton Kozlov was a successful white collar business man. Unfortunately her mother, Maya, died during childbirth, and Anton never remarried. She lived an artisan's career in metal sculpting, a welder first and foremost. Varya keeps some of Maya’s sculptors, a fond reminder of a mother she never met.

Anton a well-meaning if not highly busy father to Varya, happily supported her career choice. The family fell to ill times when Anton was pressured into investing some personal modifications, faster brain processors and other modifications to join the upper management. Accumulated some debt for the procedure, brain tissue became infected after the surgery quick and terrible inflammation deteriorated his mind rendering his body functionless. A man trapped in his body. Trapping his daughter with working off the debt. Varya was pulled from her university studies into the workforce full time to support herself and her father’s medical bills. Studying forensic computing, meaning to take a cybersecurity career.

They inevitably had to downsize and move across town to a more affordable neighbourhood, following work for Varya specifically. Without completing her education she was outright rejected from most security opportunities, in spite of her current skillset. Gave her hand at repair shops that held apprenticeships for students.

Oleg at Zero-One Shipyard gave her just that opportunity, she had proven herself at a simple test during her interview and pushed further when she was on the job for a full time position. With the normal hours she was able to support herself, pay the debt and even afford the occasional home care nurse for her father.

With more time spent at the shop, however, it became very apparent to whom Oleg answered to. The Russian mob had it’s business go through Zero-One, it’s clientele some high ranking mobsters. Corruption and crime were not new concepts to the likes of Varya but it was admittedly the closest she had ever gotten to it.

Skills

Software, coding, hacking are Varya’s specialty. Knows the inside and out of an onboard computers for vessels and vehicles. Can build and take apart systems to rewire or fix herself. She can reprogram, hunt viruses, knock down firewalls, code all by hand and memory. Considerably talented before withdrawing from school, but working at Zero-One has provided some hands on experience that have only bolstered her skills.

The Elder Scrolls: Swords & Septims

@Hank@Peik So... Is Judena's sheet lookin better?

The Elder Scrolls: Swords & Septims

Also, if I stick around in an rp long enough to get to know other characters you’ll probably get a playlist similar to the one I have for Jude. I like making them c:

The Elder Scrolls: Swords & Septims

<Snipped quote by Stormflyx>

I dunno, I kind of just unhinge my jaw and swallow the sandwich whole like a regular human.

@Dervish

That's what an alien would say.

The Elder Scrolls: Swords & Septims

Ahh- Ahhhhh CHOOOOOO!

holy shit what even is this-

Judena Callisar - Argonian Utility Mage

Nickname
Jude the Forgetful
Age
61
Gender
Female
Race
Argonian, Sarpa Descendant.
Birthsign
The Mage

Playlist
Ruby Red Memory Spotify Link
Ruby Red Memory Youtube Link

Appearance

Judena stands tall at 6’4”, she would return regularly to her Hist tree partaking in its sap to reconnect with the resting place of her soul. The sap lent well to growing a few inches, thicker scales, or toughening of nails. Though, she always hoped for the sap to affect her mind or memories in someway. Bright vibrant red scales glitter across her wide head complimented by a trio of small horns grown out from her jawline on both sides of her face, giving her a symmetrical look at first glance, marred only by a scar in the shape of a lumpy star above her left eye. Along with her ruby colouring, Judena’s underbelly scales are that of a pale yellow, her head’s profile comparable to that of a bearded dragon.

Her eyes are a bright golden hue, irises forming slits like that of her reptilian species. Rows of serrated teeth hide within her gums for tearing raw meat. Beneath her chin concealed by the spiny excess skin, it expands involuntarily when she fights. Her tail sweeps behind her, pock marked with scars from years of travelling. Some scars due to the cold bitter winters through Skyrim and the arid sands during expeditions in the Alik'r Desert. The webbing between her fingers and toes are light red.

For clothing, she prefers to wear mage robes that coincide to the region she is travelling in. Currently with her trek through Skyrim she wears apprentice mage robes, sewn with extra fur lining for warmth. Judena differs to fur-lined leather boots in addition to leather plated gauntlets to provide small protection to her arms. Largely relies on her Ironflesh mage armour for protection rather than physical means, leaving her unencumbered by hardened leather or plate.

Personality

If Judena can be described in one word, it would be laid-back. After years struggling to cope with short term memory loss, losing things and forgetting are simply how things have been for a long time. She believes she has come to peace with her condition, able to fool those around her into believing that as well. In truth, she spends some nights awake in fear of what she will forget at dawn. She still does have moments of panic when she loses something as important as a logbook, with decades of experience she is able to compensate simply by backtracking until she finds a familiar place or face. Judena knows her broken mind enough to quiet the panic quick as it bubbles up.

Gold was rarely in short supply, either finding herself in the company of well-funded mages or fair explorers giving her a cut of the findings, able to haggle on behalf of her companions for the best price of their treasure. Occasionally she has misjudged character, falling in with the likes of thieves or ruthless mercenaries looking for easy coin. But like rain, those instances roll off her back. Never to dwell on what could have been.

Judence notably has a terribly eccentric single minded focus on collection, history or restoring a piece. Much like an artist with a project. She loves to share her extensive experience and education whenever given the chance. She takes delight in appraisal she can give her companions, offering quick and accurate knowledge.

Due to her writing down daily events in meticulous detail, she took no small amount of pleasure on mediating group dynamics with whomever she choses to travel with, either providing evidence to dissolve rumours or support suspicions. Many have approached her with their secrets and guilt ridden stories, when she was younger it used to fire up her temper, but now she sees the benefit in easing her companion’s minds, promising to strike the confessions from her daily logs.

History

Judena Callisar hatched the 28th of Rain’s Hand 4E141 in Soulrest, Argonia nestled safely in a hatching pool at the base of her family’s magnificent Hist tree. In a small clutch of nine eggs, Judena was one of the five to survive to see her naming day. Raised in the cosmopolitan trading port of Soulrest, under the watchful eye of Sar-Keer and Innue, Judena was exposed to a great many different people, including Men and Mer from across Tamriel. Both Sar-Keer and Innue worked at the docks, with her father teaching his children their native tongue Jel, first and foremost. The strange, difficult, common language of Tamriel came second. Writing and learning numbers were priority for the family, Sar-Keer knowing well it would be vital for them to know both if they were to have any hope employment in the city. Like most Argonian children, Judena and her clutch mates learned how to fight and defend themselves early on for survival given Black Marsh’s inhospitable wilds lurking at the edges of Soulrest. Judena opted for using spears, preferring to keep enemies and predators at the end of her pole. Having been taught self defense initially, Judena sharpened her skills with a spear fishing.

At an early age, Judena showed to have some potential with magicka. Her parents citing her birth sign for such early development. Unfortunately with no real mentors to guide her abilities, she simply tried her best to keep it under wraps.

One rather ordinary day a small group of explorers, largely mages from Cyrodiil arrived to the port. They journeyed to Soulrest to recover an ancient sword from legend said to be found outside the Argonian city in the dense swamps. They searched around the port looking for locals who would be interested in acting as their guide. These type of explorers came to the docks quite frequently for one reason or another, in hopes to discover the mysteries that lie in the swampy waters. The four mages were three Imperial men by the names of Hareld, Viro, and Contar specializing in various schools of magic, but all proficient with the school of Alteration. The fourth mage was a female Breton named Leonora that stood out from the rest, catching the Argonian’s eye with her soft beauty and infectious personality. Sensing opportunity, Judena knew what she had to do.

Judena volunteered to guide them, young as she was with only seventeen years to her name. The expedition was planned to be a short one, they prepared for a week at most out in the wilderness. Unfortunately, a combination of bad weather and back tracking forced the expedition to push on for far longer. Fortunately for the mages, Judena was there every step of the way guiding them through certain dangerous waters, past predators and providing food when their stocks ran dry, all too eager to demonstrate her hunting prowess. When they finally arrived to the designated site, the sword they were searching for was buried deep in poisonous waters, ones that Judena would refuse to swim through. Gathered together, the mages and their magicka seeped into the waters searching for the sword. Marvelling at the power, Judena watched them successfully pull the sword free from deep waters. At the site they were able to erase years of mud and decay free from the sword, restoring it. Their talents with the arcane truly captured Judena’s imagination.

On their way back to Soulrest, Judena hounded them with questions, eagerly soaking in their replies and listening in on their conversations. When they arrived safely back to Soulrest, relatively unmolested by the marsh, the mages invited their faithful guide to join them back to Cyrodiil, in hopes of returning the favour thanks to their success and survival. She jumped at the chance, saying goodbye to her family and set out to travel with the band of mages once again, this time to new lands far from home.

For several years Judena saw no reason to leave their company, learning a great deal about herself and what she was capable of. She took up study in the Imperial City at the Arcane University where the mages presented their findings and gained permission to continue their expeditions for more lost pieces of history. She spent eight years with them, travelling and learning the tools of the arcane trade. When she finally decided to travel back to Black Marsh to visit her family, reconnect with the Hist, it was on the voyage back home that she fell victim to a rather common accident. She did not duck when the boon of a sail came swinging about with the strong change in winds, unprepared for the blow she was struck over the head, sending her stumbling overboard. When the crew fished her back out of the water, blood was leaking from her ear canals at an alarming rate. She struggled to recall faces she had just met on board a day or so ago, as well as failing to remember where her belongings were, and her hammock aboard the ship. Her memory was immediately, and permanently, affected.

On the journey back to Soulrest, the mages around her tried to mend her mind with what little skill they could as none were adept to fix something as complex as the mind and its memories. There was some progress and hope. Damage that resisted the mysterious properties of Hist sap. She spent two years coping in Soulrest with her family to support her, and took to writing the events of her day down, designing a system for both reference and ease of use to try and help recover her damaged mind. Her self-confidence nosedived, her mood was perpetually stormy and her temper on a hair trigger, as well as being defensive whenever someone dared to remind her of something as if it rubbed in her predicament. What she could remember before the accident was sharp and clear, she never forgot her learned spells and histories, so why couldn’t she remember something as simple as what she had for breakfast the day before? Growing restless day in and day out, she decided to head back to the Arcane University to search for a cure. She bid her family goodbye once again, disappearing on the first morning ship out of Soulrest.

Upon her return, she was greeted warmly by her long time companions. They promised to help her research her affliction. Leonora took to spending the most time with Judena picking up in their friendship where it left off, the years apart disappearing all at once. They were rarely seen apart. Eventually Leonora built up the confidence to confess she harboured feelings for Judena. Judena delightfully accepted Leonora's feelings and reciprocated. In a whirlwind romance they dived into marriage, Judena took a small break from her research to craft an Argonian wedding band for her wife-to-be. They travelled to Highrock, Leonora presented her new wife to her father and siblings, they were off put initially at an argonian joining the family but were warmed by Judena’s charm.

The honeymoon afterglow lasted a total of four months and sweet as they were, the warm glows dimmed when Leonora’s father fell to illness. With their return came new harrowing responsibilities that anchored both Judena and Leonora to taking care of her family. Leonora’s family flailed into heavy debt, accumulating more when work ran dry for two mages, skillful as they were. Their research was pushed to the side, along with the freedoms they once enjoyed before. Leonora’s patience ran thinner with each passing day, unable to cope with the stress of debt collectors knocking upon her door. What little research they found to time to do had proved fruitless, set back by Judena’s slow absorption of the material. What Leonora found to be unique about her charming wife, she soon found to be yet another burden. Without Judena’s realization, Leonora in secret sought comfort in the arms of someone else. Judena grew suspicious as their marriage strained further, only to discover Leonora’s mistress existence. They split, Leonora begged her forgiveness at her back as she left.

As the decades passed Judena’s heart never yearned for another, time has helped to mend but nothing felt sacred as it once did. From that point on, she decidedly surrendered herself to her memory, satisifed to go with the flow, depending solely on her logbooks. A cure may exist but perhaps it wasn’t for her to find. Now free of Highrock, it was time to return to adventure. Judena set out on her own at the age of thirty-two in 4E173. For the next thirty years she wandered from province to province, spending time among the natives absorbing their cultures, history, and collecting some parts of it. Judena saved a few items from every region, selling them and sending some money back to her family in Soulrest. She was often hired as an appraiser, valuing an array of items from weaponry and armour to precious jewelry. Her company often included pleasant sailors, treasure hunters, and archaeologists, preferring to be among others who shared her interests. In her age of near constant travel, fighting and activity her body has remained strong and spry. Others in her age group would be happy in settling with grandchildren around them.

In the unlucky year of 4E201, Skyrim was ravaged by the return of the dragons and the ominous doom Alduin promised, the country side torn apart by its civil war. While any sane traveler would have steered clear of the province, Judena had found herself in the College of Winterhold searching its library for reference when the hermit Greybeards shouted for the Dragonborn. Curiosity brought Judena to the ancient dragon burial sites, finding them fascinating and collecting the odd bone for study, but found herself no closer to puzzling out how they were brought back to life. She eventually dismissed it as some ancient magic that was beyond her understanding.

In her time in Skyrim she struggled to find work with many of the Nords taking up arms for the war. Independent of the war, she dodged great battlefields where the Empire and Stormcloaks clashed. In a year of fruitless exploration, dodging certain danger, she redoubled her efforts to join a group once more, knowing the strength and safety of numbers. When she found herself wandering into Falkreath her long search was over, so she thought. She missed the exploration team by a couple days, still she choose to hang around in Falkreath. Perhaps learn of what they may have found.

Skills

Major
Alteration: Transmutation, Ironflesh, Telekinesis, Detect Life, Magelight, and Detect Dead (Currently Studying)
As her fellow mages before her, she uses transmutation to remove rust, moss and other such foreign debris from artifacts; restoring years back to the item. Relies on Ironflesh to protect herself, in lieu of heavier armour. Magelight provides light where the darkest caverns are explored, and brightens her logbook pages at night while she writes. Telekinesis gently handles more fragile pieces, also safely moves objects from several feet away. She would be sore to use possibly precious items in her environment to defend herself. Currently, she is working on studying Detect Dead. Due to her memory, it has taken her several months to learn the spell and longer still to successfully practice it. She still has a ways to go before being able to cast it correctly.

Two-Handed: Spears
Judena is fairly proficient with a spear in her hands, an incredibly skilled fisher. In her formative years she learned how to hunt and fight, and has since then relied on her skills to protect herself. The spear acts as extension of herself with both reach and piercing damage.

Minor
Destruction: Flames, Frostbite, and Ice Spear
Judena knows a few a destruction spells, loves the convenience of Flames and Frostbite, has been using them interchangeably for as long as she has been a mage. So fine tuned is her control with both simple spells she uses it for cooking and meal prep or preservation. Cooling and boiling water, start fires, freezing salted meat, etc. In a fight, falls back to Ice Spear if she is disarmed.

Natural Ability: Water Breathing and Swimming
As an Argonian she is born with the natural ability to breath underwater, a strong natural swimmer. With previous experience on deeper dives she has, in the past, explored lake beds. For small amounts of time she can swim in the cold waters of Skyrim, prefers temperate waters.

Healing: Healing Hands
Out of need and not interest she learned how to perform healing hands. Roughly she can pull together small wounds and stop bleeding. Her patients often complain of how she was not born with a gentle touch.

Equipment

- Steel Leaf-Headed Spear - Oak Staff.
- A small satchel of fresh fruit, dried slices of salted fish. A jar of pickled raw fish.
- A backpack stacked with one blank logbook, one dated back 30 years ago, one dated to the year before, and the current one she is working on. It dates back to Frostfall 4E201. Each logbook is wrapped with waxy leather bindings to protect against water damage. Judena specializes in restoring damaged items, but prefers preventing damage in the first place where her precious logbooks are concerned. Including in her pack is writing utensils crafted from charcoal and solid wood, sharpened to a fine point.
- Detect Dead spellbook she is studying along with her own scrawled notes on each page, largely noting what she had already accomplished in practice. Rudimentary drawings of hand movements, committing the spell to muscle memory as well.
- 1 Reference Guide for Ancient Nordic artifacts, written by her.
- An extra set of apprentice robes. Coupled with a mending kit.
- Small pouch of 50 Gold Septims.
- 1 waterskin.
- 1 Argonian wedding band hung on a silver chain tucked into her shirt.
- 1 Empty Satchel for storing valued items.

Miscellaneous

• Judena takes meticulous notes in her daily journals, through years of coping she designed the best way of reference within her own notes. Always noting date, time and event concisely.
• Favourite Drunk Claim to Fame Story: Reincarnated from the argonian lady that inspired the Lusty Argonian Maid.
• Judena’s memory is spotty throughout the day, she relies on her companions to remind her of their names and certain things that may have only occurred or were spoken of hours ago. In a daily ritual before she sleeps she records the day’s events in a logbook, the following morning awakes to reread the logs refreshing her memory. Some precious few things do make it into her long term memory, however there is no predicting what will make it.
• Is a staunch believer in muscle memory, Judena has long since employed rigorous physical repetition when learning new things. If her mind cannot remember, her muscles will.
• Gotta go south of the Marne for the best fish.

[Hank's Critique Points] -
Judena Callisar, @DearTrickster
You win huge points for sheer creativity and originality here. The idea of an Argonian mage with such a significant weakness as short-term memory loss tickles my funny-bone in all the right places and we're big fans of the concept and quirkiness of the character. That said, you admitted to me that the sheet would be a lot more polished if you had more time and I believe it's better to give you that time now. There are still awkward turns of phrase and other grammatical errors in the sheet and some things about her history don't logically line up with the rest of the character without some further explanation. Why Mysticism, for example? How did she end up learning that school of magic and why did she choose it over something more practical, like Destruction? Peik and I also had our doubts about the hidden stashes you mention in her sheet. It seems unlikely for a lone treasure hunter to find enough valuables to have not just one, but several hidden stashes of items. On top of that, why didn't she sell her discoveries? Peik is better at explaining these concerns so I'll leave it to him to elaborate further. We definitely want Judena in the RP, make no mistake, but when the last character slot became a choice between Sjara and Judena, I felt obligated to go with the character I can accept right out of the gate over the more unique and interesting one that still needs some work. Please don't be discouraged -- we'll work with you to iron everything out and then I'm sure Judena will be a fantastic, hilarious and endearing addition to the crew.

Again thank you for your thoughts, I've addressed your points in the polished sheet, the majority of it was spent cleaning it up. When I originally made the sheet, from the template alone I thought Mysticism was free game for a school of magic but since then have just plain removed it for the sake of it being an out-of-date school of magic that it is.

[Peik's Points]
I’ve thought of Judena as a slanted and odd character from the very beginning of her appearance section and she indeed has been one, and I think it’s obvious by now that for me these are positive traits. Your inclusion of ‘bearded dragon’ as reference in her appearance has helped me visualize her much more uniquely, and admittedly positively, in comparison to the two other possible avenues that often plague Argonians; ‘generic anthropomorphized lizard’ or ‘wet dream of scalies everywhere’.

I like how her personality mixes with that of a passionate professor and a forgetful old lady at the same time, although somehow I think it would not be that easy to make your peace with a condition as horrifying as memory loss. Even logbooks would be just a daily reminder of your failing state of mind; and foregoing them would mean just dooming your experiences and development as a person. Nonetheless, I appreciate her obsessive notes about daily things that she goes through.

Her background is quite detailed yet simple at the same time, although I feel it could be a polished a little bit further to both streamline it and make it more believable. For example, she and her siblings learn how to survive in the wilds of the Black Marsh, and thus she learns how to use a spear, and also picks up fishing. Considering how port cities are often more developed and cosmopolitan, I feel they wouldn’t teach people how to use weapons as to defend themselves; maybe you could simply write that she took up usage of spears as a way of fishing (spear fishing is a valid practice, if I recall correctly, and for an Argonian it would be likely twice if not thrice as convenient in my opinion). She is victim to a common, plausible accident that leaves her impaired. This is a very much authentic path in her evolution as person, and her interest in magic has pretty simple and believable beginnings. However, I’m not sure how effective the Arcane University would be as an institution of education, given how the Mages Guild has disbanded after the Oblivion Crisis – this kind of leaves the extent of her education in magic -especially Mysticism which has practically fallen out of usage in the Fourth Era- somewhat up in the air, in my opinion, doubly so with her memory loss. While I appreciate her collector-enthusiast approach to her findings, her simply stashing them also does not make much sense to me, and I feel that a person of that caliber would be able to oversee expeditions as opposed to taking part in muddy and possibly fruitless dungeon delving. There are also some grammar and syntax errors, but these are a simple do-over away from fixing. I very much like Judena, and perhaps it is for this reason that I’ll put my approval into another character; she can be made much better, in my opinion, and the concept you’ve caught is very much neat, I would like to see her at the apex of her potential as a complex character.

Thank you as well for the thoughts~ I believe I've done well to address them in the polished sheet. Wanted to clarify it seems on some of them. Judena had her education in magic well before the accident that caused her memory loss, 8 years worth of learnin' and adventuring with her little band of mages. Hank had made a comment about the Arcane University as well when I first submitted but I picked it with this little excerpt from the Elder Scrolls wiki to back it up as a good place for education.

The university was not directly affected by the attacks on the Mages Guild from the Order of the Black Worm, although the attendants of Wellspring Cave were slain by the necromancers, cutting off the supply of special wood needed for the creation of magical staffs, and several members of the council of mages based at the university including the Arch-Mage died during the crisis.[3] The Arcane University survived the dissolution of the Mages Guild following the Oblivion Crisis, and was still a center of magical study in 4E 201.[11]

So I kept it in there.

Anyway though, I know you guys are still in the middle of the tomb shenanigans. Wanted to get this posted here and have a show for it.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

_{banner credit to Hellis}

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~ Lights they blind me ~

Time: Evening - Present Day
Location: Smithy's Grocery Store, Las Vegas

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

The female Dover Twin, Freya as she had introduced herself in French, was much to The Ambassador’s surprise. Easily the most well mannered reply, but it was quite clear to her that the giantess twins were hatching some half baked plan of defense immediately. The Ambassador was very curious as to what exactly they could do, unnatural as they were in appearance. Try as Freya did to communicate with the other set of twins. It lent well to what she already assumed of the group around the White Witch. Disorganized, chaotic, and clearly there was nothing solid keeping them together. No glue. Every individual had their own goal, their own thoughts, they would surely act on their own as well. It was obvious to her it would take something minimal to break them apart, trip over themselves.

The sorceress still could not puzzle out why the twin werewolves were as angry as they were. Perhaps some bad blood with the Fey? Supernaturals were often uncomfortable around Fey but it was rare when there was outright hate. It was no fault of hers if they made a bad deal.

The wolf-boy’s transformation was fascinating, albeit rather visceral. Flesh, hair, blood slid off the boy’s body accompanied by a symphony of pain. When he emerged a werewolf, fear radiated off him. He was very new to it. It seemed his companions were not fazed. Was it exasperation?

Mandate’s comments earned her a nod of acknowledgement. The golem’s sly comment directed to White Witch did not go unnoticed, it was quite the barb. “Oui, Mandate. I’m rather curious as well, what does it feel like to have no real control over one’s self? The sheer ignorance would simply drive me mad.”

She felt no threat was here.

The Ambassador watched their reactions with an unwavering smile. The Fey shifted about watching as well, even boldly stealing some discarded flesh from the boy’s transformation. They flinched when White Witch sent her familiar ahead of her. White Witch’s delightful confusion at her attack being rendered impotent sent a new wave of giggles through the group of Fey.

”What did you give him?” The White Witch snapped at her, venomous. ”How did you manage it, huh? What could possibly . . . it doesn’t matter. If what I think is true, then you can’t hurt me either, none of you can.” The witch gestured to her, Mandate and even Bach as well. It seemed she held some minimal Sight, much like Odette’s ability to see the vague shape of Holt.

”Not if she orders it.” She finished.

So the ignorance became very apparent. It was really far too easy.

“You are correct, Puck did facilitate this deal.” She gestured vaguely at the witch, an easy roll of her shoulders. “I’m sure you can ask Puck yourself, White Witch. We both know how well that will go, you will be tugged around by your nose with the answers just out of reach. Fortunately for you, I am not Puck.” She said.

No, I have a far more interesting way to lead you around in circles. She thought.

She peered, flattening her palm as if to block bright light. “That must be Holt’s shadow hanging around you. What a delightful reunion, now we can let bygones be bygones properly.” She said rather smoothly. “To show that I am the bigger person, I do not hold a grudge against you and your predecessor, Holt. I’m sure you had some poor reasons to wedge yourselves into my business back then, but past is past. Joseph Mathers death closed that door.”

Bach leaned into whisper in her ear, in French, “She really knows nothing, My Lady.” He said with a slight snicker then moved onto a cautionary tone, “Those two twin wolves seem familiar, I would be cautious of provoking them. They look ready to leap into action at a single word, they would interrupt then ultimately prove this meeting pointless by insinuating a fight.”

The Ambassador carried on acknowledging Bach’s notes with a nod, Words of Power calling on the Arcane Stream, she unfurled her right hand energy gathering in her palm, collecting in a soft opaque blue orb. With a soft breath she blew it off her palm toward Benjamin, it faded into his chest providing some relief from the pain of transformation, a charm to calm the mind. “His moans of agony were beginning to grate. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’ll start simply, White Witch. Lift the veil of ignorance.”

From her purse she pulled the small ornate trunk that held Gwyneth’s Sight. She lifted the trunk’s lid showing the discs with runes. “This belongs to you or, pardon me. Belongs to Gwyneth Owens as I have come to know her.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief, “I struck a deal with Gwyneth directly, Puck facilitated the contract’s writing and signed in her stead. You and I are bound, White Witch. If you are able to swallow your pride, apparent hatred for me, then perhaps we can work together. If not…”

She gestured to Mandate with a wave of her hand, “Lift your foot, my dear.”

She delicately placed the trunk directly beneath the golem’s foot. Adjusting it just... so.

“Perhaps the most incredible feature Mandate has is her will over her weight and strength. She fought Herne’s Guardian of Stonehenge rendering it to dust.” She gestured again, to lower her foot - lightly brushing the lid.

“Let me make it crystal clear.” She resumed her full height, tucking some stray hair behind her ear. She held up three fingers on her left hand, folding her ring finger down. “Gwyneth gifted me senses to feel the pieces of her soul, same as you.” She bent down her middle finger. “There is little to stop me from hunting each piece down to destroy it.” Finally bending her forefinger, “I can open portals to virtually anywhere on Earth or other dimensions.”

“It is apparent to me that you are in dire need of my assistance. What hope do you have as you are? Incomplete, fumbling around hoping to stumble upon the next piece. With ‘friends’ such as these, your chances have diminished greatly.” She said with a sneer. “Really, what were you thinking?”

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

---

[Part 2]

Herald the Strangers

Location: Lost Haven University, Lost Haven
Time: Present Day - Morning

On the east side of campus, Pantheon faced the last eight of his assailants. It was a blitzkrieg, his body a blur as shrieks and gurgles fizzled into a grotesque cacophony. Within less than a minute, he had disposed of all eight: bones stuck out of arms and legs, ankles twisted in ways unthinkable by occupational trainers, one had both kneecaps completely shattered. He had done his work here, he left them to suffer. But alas, Pantheon was still one person no matter how fast he moved--for every Hound Pantheon disposed of, they were still murdering two and three students. He could hear the crushing rattle of the assault rifles as they tore human flesh to mince.

He would take the fight to the heart of the attack. Pantheon blazed to the interior of the east wing of the building where bodies had been stacked up against one another. There appeared to be no Hounds in sight, however. In the eery silence, he glared at the mesh of lifeless flesh before him. There were at least fifteen scattered against the walls and slumped against lockers. One girl, a blonde with blue highlights running to the ends of her hair appeared to make it to the emergency exit before she was cut down. All of the blood hadn’t even coagulated yet, the Hounds must have just rampaged through here.

Littered alongside him were the bodies of lost souls; they found a way to accuse him even in death. He could hear their pleas from beyond, he could hear the whimpers and the spite spilling from those whose lives had been cut too short. The dead may not speak, but they see and they judge with eternally damning eyes. The aftermath of murder was unlike any other settling feeling; with death, the moments posteriori affirmed the permanency of death’s unnatural hold on mortal beings. These people were innocent, they committed no crime simply because they were born different--and if these Hounds saw it right to treat their fellow human beings as dogs, Pantheon would treat them the same; and he would put them all down without mercy.

Reaching the end of a hallway, he saw the map which detailed the layout of the Eastern wing where he saw the Dean’s office two floors above him. He would let it be known that any hounds who found themselves before him would meet a swift end. He shot up through the ceiling until he did reach the Dean’s office, to which he found some straggling Hounds rummaging around the desk of the now deceased Dean: the method of execution was a slit throat. Just as before, the Hounds immediately opened fire. Wading bullets, Pantheon approached both soldiers and after crushing the muzzles of their guns, he seized both by their throats and raised them above his head.

”What are your names?” Pantheon resounded,
“CAHK-Chuh! I’ll never tell you, scum!” Pantheon squeezed tighter around his measly throat.
”A shame. So stubborn as to choose death.” Pantheon assured the nameless Hound enjoyed his fall from the sixth story window. The splat of his body against the concrete even made Pantheon flinch. He turned to the other, still held firm in his grasp.
”And you?” This one was smart, he obeyed.
“M-Michael!” from what Pantheon gathered, he sounded young--perhaps no more than 25. Michael’s headgear covered his face, but Pantheon could feel him trembling, wary of how close he was between life and death. He would show this one mercy. Releasing Michael from his grasp, he spoke once more,

”Retire. Lead a better life, Michael.” Michael caught his breath, and with his hand wrapped around his throbbing throat, he scurried off, no longer the resilient paramilitary dog he had so fervently tried to portray but a few minutes before. He pushed the dead Dean out of his chair and assumed his place. Grasping the intercom which relayed messages to the entirety of the East Wing, Pantheon spoke.

”Attention, Hounds of Humanity! My name is Pantheon. You have committed an unforgivable atrocity here today, and you will pay for your crime. You have thirty minutes to evacuate this institution or I will kill you all. There will be no mercy shown to any who do not abide by these commands after these thirty minutes have passed. Have a fine day.”

And now, he would wait.

Lawrence replied promptly to Pantheon’s kind warnings, his tone hardly changing from his previous announcement. “Hey, congrats on defeating my men. I was hoping there’d be some tough sonuvabitch we could fight with today. Well, it really is your lucky day, you get to be our guinea pig.”

Meanwhile, as the main forces of the HoH made their way through the university, gunning down anyone they couldn’t readily contain, several other squads were making their way around the campus entirely. These separate squads split off to place several beacons, just a few feet big, around their targeted area of the university. Another squad followed directly after their first waves, to set up a larger tower device in the center of the main campus building.

As the towers came online the nearest squad to each surrounded their beacon to protect them, except for the central tower. Several more Hounds gathered around it, along with other squads coming back to this area as well with injured or unconscious civilians, all of whom they had identified at an earlier date as metahumans, and placed one or two of said civilians around the tower. One of the Hounds flipped a switch, and a high pitch shrill pierced the entire campus. The Hounds appeared to just get stiff, as if bracing themselves for something painful, the nearby civilians that had been brought in began to writhe and scream in pain.

But the metahumans who were near the central tower began to shake, scream, and all manner of struggle, until they vanished. It could have been described as an explosion, but it was too quiet, too clean, their bodies changed to an odd dust as soon as the shrill stopped.

“Their powers work differently, let’s continue testing.” A specially marked Hound said, while pointing at their next subjects.

“I haven’t heard back from the other squads yet sir.” A nearby Hound said, his hand still clutched around the radio on his chest.

“Break open some of our prototype ordinance and send out another squad. No more prisoners, let’s not risk it.”

Charlie watched on from the window in a lecturing hall, standing on the folding chairs. She peered at the back entrance of the west building, they wheeled in a tower of some sort. Looking like a heavily experimental piece of equipment. Wires, access boxes and instruments were strapped to it. They ran power cords to generators, squashing Charlie’s immediate hope of cutting the power to them. What she saw next however had changed her goal of escape. The tower powered up, the hostage they kneeled in front of it screeched his pain, activating his own set of powers trying to fight. The hostage fainted in their attempts, slumping forward. He was dragged away and another sat in front of it, visibly panicking.

The alchemist knew she could sabotage the tower, but as she was; horrifically unprepared and outgunned she moved away from the window. The best move would be to get through the campus, look for weak links in their perimeter then slip by. Wait until bigger superheroes came crashing the party, where the real chaos would unfold. She wanted to be as far away as she could possibly get from that insanity.

It seemed an impossible task, with who knew how many armed gunmen between her and the exit. She forced her feet to move, she moved out of the deserted lecture hall, going straight for the maintenance room, it controlled all the electronics for the halls. She bit her lip then loaded up on some tools like screwdrivers, cable cutters, and excess blue telephone cables. From below a ladder led up to the roof of the hall, probably to where the re-circulating air fans were. Charlie made her way up, rapidly oxidizing the lock on the hatch to a rusted heap. She busted through to the roof, the bright sunshine making her squint. Overhead she heard the LHPD’s helicopters arrive along with the blaring sound of sirens.

From his vantage, Pantheon could see the line of helpless humans/metas being dragged in front of the large tower contraptions across campus. His stomach writhed at the shrill that followed. He couldn’t quite see the aftermath itself, though. There was not anything he could do to save the deceased, and he had an entirely new set of problems rushing up the stairs behind him. Whatever Lawrence had presumed to make Pantheon a guinea pig of, he had no intentions of finding out. Doubly, below the east building, the Hounds had set up another of these small beacon contraptions where LHPD rescue vehicles and cop cars had begun to make their arrival.

For each car which entered the active beacon’s radius, its drivers met a terrible end. One veered right into a tree as its driver’s body seized up--both servicemen of 15 years lost their lives. Another spun out uncontrollably until it flipped over and rolled into the forest greenery beside the road. Meanwhile, the Hounds had invaded the entirety of the East wing from the bottom floor to the top. It was no use to try and repel an entire wave of them when there would undoubtedly be another wave in ten minutes or less. Above, he heard the whir of helicopter blades. If LHPD were here, it means they too would soon be arriving in greater force. LHU was about to be a war zone.

There was no use in trying to clear out the East wing, so Pantheon burst through the window and decided he would try to take out one of those beacons. Except in his divebomb, his entire body froze up and he plummeted into the concrete, a hole was left. The Hounds trained their weapons on him and fired, but just as before, nothing happened--the longer he stayed by these beacons, the weaker he felt himself becoming. He shot upward toward the western wing of the building through a window at the top floor. Perhaps there was something of interest here.

Outside, more Hounds and police squads arrived on the scene in triple time. The LHPD had called in their big guns, there were armored trucks and officers draped in thick body armor from head to toe. The Hounds were unphased, for each truck the LHPD had at its disposal, there were three vans with six or seven armed men a piece inside. A firefight soon broke out on the streets below, with members of both sides swiftly cutting one another down. Any innocents and presumed metas who had attempted to make their escape were unceremoniously caught in the crossfire. Warm blood hugged the streets and swam to the feet of the opposition from both sides. Carnage won the day.

Charlie watched the descent of the flying costumed meta crash through into a classroom, his attempt to attack one of the towers the Hound’s setup failed miserably. Clearly he was disorientated, more so was that she saw a possible ally and escape plan. She took off at a run across the roof, using the length of cable she tied her staff to her back then used the excess, creating an cement anchor. Winding some of it around her fist then slowly around her waist. She peered over the side where the broken window was, the Hounds were preoccupied with the arrival of the LHPD their eyes trained on the ground and not above them. Slowly she backed up against the ledge, balancing on the edge with her heels. “Good thing I’m not afraid of heights.”

A quick inhale she jumped off the ledge, the cable pinching her waist taking the weight as she swung forward directly into the classroom. Careening with a desk she slid off the surface then clattered to the floor with a groan. Using a chair she pulled herself up, adjusting her goggles as she did noticing the downed meta and a few stray bodies. She paced over to him, having made a mess of desks upon his landing. She used the butt of her staff to poke his side.

“Hey, you alright?”

Pantheon rose from atop the crushed metal desks from which his body rested. He gleaned her up and down, from her sweater to her staff. She was small and breakable in many ways. For a moment, he envisioned the varying ways he could do as such. Although, she didn’t seem like she had any intentions of doing him any harm which, above all else, is all he cared about. It was always fun to test a person’s resolve, though.

He grabbed one of the spare metal legs of the desk and promptly threw it at her head. There was a small smile on his face.

She ducked catching the desk leg, shaking the sting away in her hand. Glaring she snapped, “The fuck, man! What the hell are you smiling about, asshole.”

Her irritation turning the steel in the leg to liquid as it puddled to the ground. “Who’re you anyway?” When he was at his full height he towered over her. Rightly noting the large thunderbolt across his chest, the cape. Classic costumed hero look about him, she supposed if this grinning idiot was her ticket out there’d be no room for complaints.

He watched her turn metal into water. Though he would never admit it, such a feat caused him to squirm inside. Someone who could transform solid objects into liquid was not to be trifled with; Pantheon would not, of course, let her know this.

”What a strange creature you are.” He paced to the broken window, the spinning helicopter blades had gotten closer. It sounded like they were about to land on the roof.

”Well, human, you know these mortal institutions better than myself. How do you propose we get out?”

Great, another one these jokers. Mortal this, human that. She thought.

“Okay cool, nice to meet you too. Name’s not creature, it’s Alchemyst.” She replied, then dryly added. “It’s customary in my culture to say who you are too. Unless you like being called an asshole, I don’t mind.”

“Memhmemhmemhnemhe!” Pantheon mimicked her drawl, “Sassy this, sassy that. Look at me, I’m ‘the Alchemyst. I’m better than you because there aren’t as many of me as there are of you.”

No matter how serious he appeared, he was still one part kid, one part magical bulldozer. He curled a grin across his face as she grew more flustered. Hassan, ever more the antagonist, still lived inside the far more serious hero who made up his exterior.

”If you’re done complaining about how hard your life is, can we figure out how we’re gonna get out of here?”

She threw up her hand and flipped him off before stalking over to the door, “What are you, fuckin’ twelve? I swear to christ, you-”

”Technically, I’m 17, thanks very much.”

She huffed heading in the opposite direction going to the door and peeking through it. Lifting the blinds up tentatively with the crystal on her staff. It was like talking to her little sister, Harry had a penchant for acting like a brat when the mood struck her. “They’ve got the campus surrounded, exits are covered by those tower things they’ve set up. I can sabotage them but I had no hope of getting close. Seriously though, what do I call you?”

Near as quick as Hassan’s juvenile demeanor emerged, it suppressed itself when he spoke up again.

“I am Pantheon. I am not a ‘you’ per se, I am only real in the sense that this body has been manifested over the course of several centuries. I do not care for the name myself. It is, as I have learned over several existences, an homage to your various human religions. I am an amalgamation of spells, tomes, runes.”

His eyes never once strayed from her frame as he spoke. His iris’ were a mixture of different colors, and he didn’t appear to belong to a single ethnic group though his skin in this recent iteration was brown. This Alchemyst seemed so worried about such a minor matter.

”I am not so sure you want to ‘get close’-- whatever these things are, they caused me great pain. I dare not imagine what they might do to you.”

She saw no one in the hallway, turning back to him, “Pantheon, weird magic, got it. I’ve got my share of family history behind me too, alchemy is as weird as it gets though.” She commented. “The tower on the westside here wasn’t that bad. It knocked their victims out, didn’t look like it killed them. The center one could be the strongest one. I won’t have any real ideas until I can get my hands on it.”

She paced over to the main desk, pulling open the drawers fishing out office supplies mostly erasers, scotch tape and paper clips stuffing them into her backpack. “If I get rid of the tower then we can make a break for it yeah?”

He set his eyes on the continuing firefight below. Neither side appeared to be giving ground.

The whirring of the LHPD helicopters were simply background noise, through the raining gunfire the launch of a rocket was drowned away until it hit its target. The helicopter exploded in bright fire, the sound deafening. The aircraft came spinning directly toward their classroom window, Charlie had time to duck underneath the desk while it gave Pantheon no real time to react.

All he could do was watch as the helicopter whipped into him. No matter how durable one was, getting hit still hurt; it didn’t help that one of the rotary blades had detached and lodged itself into his cape, effectively choking him while what was left of the helicopter from the explosion lay sprawled atop his body. Capes were indeed a bad idea. His arms were free, but he had begun to re-think this hero’ing business in general. Some groans escaped from his mouth in between the choking and coughing.

A blast of cool foam of the fire extinguisher hit the wreckage, from where he was Pantheon would see Charlie having broken up from the desk, debris pinned the furniture to the back wall with her beneath it. When enough of the fire was gone, she slammed both hands over the blade pinning him, it disappeared in a similar fashion of the desk leg, but this time reforming as a pole pushing the wreckage up a few feet removing the weight. Without a word she grasped under his armpit then with all her strength she pulled him free. He was heavy as it was, but she quickly had him free after dragging him a few feet away.

Letting go she picked up the fire extinguisher again, blasting more foam on the flames. “We need to move!”

He rose, one hand rubbed his throat. The heat itself didn’t bother him, he knew this was not the case for the Alchemyst.

“I hope you are not averse to flying. I doubt either of our acrobatic skills are sufficient for safe departure. You know where these towers are? What is the quickest route?” He did not care for safety at all.

She snapped, “Hell no, we are not flying. I am not making a target for another goddamn rocket.” She put the canister down, pulling her staff back into her hands. “We’re taking the stairs.”

“Very well.” He swooped her up in his arms in a streak of speed and encased her with an arm, both were airborne in a matter of seconds. “I am insulted that you believe I am as slow as your man made inventions. Also, they were coming up the stairs.” They weren’t, but he deigned he could pull off the lie well enough.

She shrieked at the sudden, blurring movement. Nearly motion sick at the rapid departure of the classroom, she clutched her staff then squeezed her eyes shut her ears popped painfully at the sudden ascent. Barely having heard what he had just said. Working her jaw. When her mind caught up she looked down at the campus, rhyming off where she left off on the periodic table panic nearly overtaking her once again.

”Now, where to?”

“T-tungsten.” She said quietly then turned her worst glare onto Pantheon she pulled down the mask to yell at him. “You absolute shit! Fucking supes and their bullshit flying. Fuck you and your stupid ass cape! Fuck that thunderbolt! This-!” She ranted pointing at him, “Is all shit!”

When she finished she pointed, “Over there.”

“Hahahahahahhahaahaahhaaahahahahahahahahahaahhahahahaha! If you want, I could just drop you right now. Just--” he released her from his grasp as they flew over the campus grounds while they were several hundred feet in the air.

“Oops.” And now he waited. Four… three… two… it took no time for him to catch her as he ziplined down.

“I believe there is a mortal saying that recounts something like, ‘if one has nothing nice to say, one should not say it at all lest they be felled by a force greater than themselves. Or something of that nature.” This Alchemyst had proverbial rough edges, ones Pantheon could appreciate. She was defiant even against odds she could not overcome alone; for him, one who could and would stand independent and defiant of all in her path was one who garnered his respect.

He flew them in the direction which she indicated, vague though it was.

The drop and subsequent catch earned him one more, “Fuck you.” Charlie stayed icily silent as they descended. When they found themselves on the other side of the west department building’s exit around the corner from the tower she knelt gratefully into the grass. “A flying wizard with the temperament of a teenager, what fuckin’ luck do I have today.” She stood back up fixing her hood back on her head with her mask, she pulled out the smoke grenade she had picked up earlier from her pack.

“Alright, I’m going to make a distraction to draw them away from the tower. You,” She gestured with the disabled grenade. “Get rid of the Hounds, while I tear the tower apart.”

They were in the midst of battle. Several more armored trucks had made their way onto the scene, and the Hounds who were hold up in the Eastern Wing had poured into the streets.

Suddenly some of the vans in the rear began to stop, or lose traction, and dirt began to build up in odd ways underneath them. The formations quickly began to form into fingers, then hands that slowly lifted the vans into the air, more thickened ‘fingers’ began to sprout off, to block windows and doors.

Clearly this was the fault of a metahuman, all of the Hounds that could began to scan their area, looking to stop whoever was at fault before all their reinforcements became trapped.

“Contact spotted, the roof!” A Hound shouted as he pointed, not a second later gunfire rained down around the figure on the room.

David raised his arms instinctively to block, it had taken a while for him to get used to the fact that he was bulletproof, since he spent most of his waking hours as a normal human, but at least he didn’t jump back. For this he needed to be at the front, everyone’s guns pointed at him, instead of someone else.

Terra Firma had spent his time so far saving people as he had become lost within the campus, drawing up earthen walls to shelter people, disarming and disabling Hound attackers, making them pay for their cowardly tactics. He began to wonder what they were really trying to accomplish right before he heard a loud explosion booming off in the distance, and then an obvious thought struck him, he brought his hand up and facepalmed himself. Get the high ground, find out what’s going on outside, because he was clearly missing something.

Several more of the vans from earlier began to arrive, with no one watching David took the opportunity to try to reach out to his earth powers, he wasn’t a master yet, in fact he wondered why he was able to control it so easily now. But he reached out and began to form those hands, imagined them reaching around, grasping the cars like simple toys. However, before he could get a handle on the rest he was spotted, and interrupted.

“I am pretty hard to ignore.” David mused to himself. The Hounds were clearly trying something with those towers, so he’d work his way up, take care of the men so they couldn’t stop him, then he’d deal with the towers. And with that plan in his head David jumped down, as he slammed into the ground, chunks of dirt and nearby cement flew into the air everywhere, the force of his landing sent several of the nearby Hounds flying back.

David grabbed the feet of a nearby Hound before he could fly off, and threw him ‘properly’ into some of his still standing friends.

David held out his hands and brought up two stone ‘blades’ into his hands, it wasn’t that he needed help pushing around unpowered men, but it occurred to him that it might help with reach. The swords themselves were smoothed out, they looked almost real, but if one saw one up close or even felt one they could tell that they were actually dulled.

The new hero’s appearance grabbed both Pantheon and Charlie’s attention. She had nearly finished her own distraction, someone else was fighting and actually pushing back. The ground was shaking with each move Terra Firma made. He tore into the Hounds with vigor, when he approached one of the towers Charlie decided there was only one way to warn him and chase off the Hounds.

The repurposed smoke grenade in her hand had alchemical formulas scrawled over every inch of it, it took some picking about it’s insides, adding her own ingredients from her backpack. The smoke grenade had grown past it’s original size with a new trigger crudely shaped from within. She shouted at the top of her voice.

“MOVE!”

Soul Eater: Blood Moon

I’ll work on a character sheet as well.

Soul Eater RP

Yeah I'd be interested in playing a game like that.