Fallenreaper

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

Location: Lachance Stronghold – Henderson, Nevada
Time: Noon, the Day before the Satellite Attacks

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Genevieve slumped onto her desk, exhausted after hours of pouring over Marie’s vague instructions. This was all up to chance, and Genevieve didn’t want to assume any responsibility in the event that everything went up in flames. But she was eager to rid her sanctuary of unwanted guests. The walls spoke to her, relaying a troubling message of an intrusion, brief but apparent. Someone, or more appropriately, something had seen fit to wander into the space between and visit the Lachance’s sacred dwelling.

Even more reason to be rid of them, Genevieve thought to herself, pulling back her crimson hair into a tight bun to keep from pulling or burning it during the rite.

Like many elements of the craft, the actions and components were fairly simplistic, but the force behind it, the symbolism, was rather complex, and binding a spirit in such a way had scarcely been done before. Even so, Genevieve began the working, first crafting an effigy from twigs and straw, yew specifically, in the shape of a wolf. She added bits of flesh and hair taken after Benjamin’s transformation, the taglock which would access and bind his essence. Next, she anointed the poppet with a deadly mixture, aconite extract, jimson weed bulbs, and mugwort ash. Into the wolf’s mouth, Genevieve placed a rough obsidian stone set in silver. Finally, the words:

”Draw down and apart,
Apart, apart,
As both abound,
Surround, surround,
Until both are one.”

Uttered thrice and the spell is done, but only time would tell if Marie’s formula had been successful, and Genevieve wasn’t keen on breaking the news to Ben that his friend had gone.

Wrapping the talisman in twine to forge a crude amulet, Genevieve collected herself and the trinket, moving with haste out of her office, past the arboretum, and on to the corridors where Marie’s friends had slept the night before. Fortunately enough, Ben was wandering the halls, and Genevieve could tell he was already on edge.

“Not having a good morning, I take it?” she greeted him with a less than enthusiastic tone, heels clicking on the wooden floors until she stopped about ten feet short of Ben.

Benjamin felt he was talking to his fourth-grade math teacher. A woman who expected perfection out of all her students, often frowning on those that didn’t fit with her expectations and making them feel lower than dirt. He forcibly swallowed the sensation of aggression surging in his chest. He didn’t want to start a fight in the very sanctuary his group was taking refuse within, especially with what appeared to be the leader.

He let out a breath then nodded, “Yeah, I’m starting to get used to it. It’s just been a while since I’ve nightmares of a crow.”

“I figured I should let you know we’ll be leaving your domain as soon we figure out where to head next and I make arrangements. I’m pretty sure Kat’s spell has worn off by now so Lori will be seeking me out soon.”

“I haven’t the slightest what any of that means, but let me make your leaving a little easier.”

Genevieve motioned to the walls.

“You’ve likely noticed that there are no doors leading outside, and very few windows, all of which show . . . well, certainly not the desert. You and your friends got in the non-traditional way, so to make sure you can go as quickly and as easily as possible, here.”

She removed a slender white wand from her side, carved with strange symbols that were just visible.

“Whenever you’re ready, just snap the wand in half and think of the place you want to be. It’ll carry you and your friends wherever you wish.”

“Thank you. And I noticed that, but I figured it wasn’t any of my business,” Benjamin commented, then held his hand to retrieve the wand.

He looked it over briefly, hiding how impress he was at the simplicity, then he carefully pocketed it. Feeling like their exchange was done, he shifted to pull away and find Kat and Yeong to determine what was next.

“Before you go,” Genevieve spoke up, regaining his attention, “I have something else. Your friend, Marie, left while all of you were sleeping. She reasoned it would be better to complete her quest without endangering others who had no stake in her, shall we say, former self. But she didn’t leave you empty handed.”

Genevieve held out the wolf effigy.

“Apparently, Marie had been researching ways for you to gain control over your transformations. Before her departure, she relinquished her findings to me and asked I complete the spell in her stead. I won’t bore you with the details, but in theory, this talisman should allow you and your other half to work in conjunction, granting you control over your changes. We also found a note addressed to you. They’re yours, if you wish.”

“Yeah, why not? She couldn’t tell me herself after all. Just another reminder that the only person I can count on is myself.” Benjamin said with venom and a coldness in his words then caught himself. He sighed in acceptance at his fate before apologizing.

“You shouldn’t have been the one that should be delivering this news and for that, I’m sorry you were involved.”

The words appeared to be genuine.

Genevieve sighed.

“You don’t need to apologize, I made a deal and I’m honoring it, simple as that. And while it’s not my job to console you, let me give you this piece of free advice. How old are you? 16? 17? Point is, you’re young, and whatever betrayal you think you’ve experienced up to this point is likely nothing compared to what’s to come, or compared to your companions. People come, they affect our lives in a variety of ways, and they leave. And it is incredibly naive for you to think that they’ll stay when faced with issues greater than emotional, or even supernatural, bonds.

“Be angry, if you must. Scream, cry, brood, feel whatever you want if you think it helps. Or you could put yourself in her position, try to understand why she, and others, might not still be here. You have a lifetime to be disappointed. Don’t start getting bitter now or it’ll ruin anything good that happens to you. Or ignore me, if you like. Leave with or without this talisman, it’s all the same to me so long as you aren’t here tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I suppose that rings true when you’ve had eight people leave in a span of days,” Benjamin pointed out.

“That speech isn’t very effective to someone’s who had to raise themselves since eight, but I thank you for it anyways. We’ll be out by tomorrow, you have my word. Now if you will excuse me, is there a phone somewhere I can make some calls and arrangements from?”

Genevieve set the letter and the talisman down on a wooden table nearby, the legs made to look like vines.

“Unfortunately no,” she responded dryly, “I’m afraid there’s no reception here. Our only means of communication is the tree at the center of the sanctuary. If you need to get a message to someone, you could write a letter and hand it to the tree, although the recipient might not have a positive reaction to a random letter falling into their hands.”

“Yeah, that’s why I was hoping for a phone,” Ben’s fingers rubbed his eyes, trying to rein in his rising frustration and stress.

He wondered if it was that his whole stomach churned inside his middle. Like it was rejecting the food and nutrients he had managed to eat. Pushing those thoughts aside, Ben had to focus on the present.

“Is there a range for the travel spell? Or anything I specifically should know before using it that you haven’t said?”

Genevieve shook her head.

“It can take you anywhere you imagine, but especially places that have significance to you. Just ensure that you and everyone you want to go with you are touching before you snap the wand. Oh, and you might want to close your eyes, it can be a bit bright.”

“Like everything else today. Now I just have to try not to get high off the magic of the wand or the effigy,” Benjamin mumbled, for once hating he could smell magic even in his human form.

At least he wasn’t a wolf right now, or he would just lay there inhaling the scent for hours.

“Oh,” Genevieve called over her shoulder, turning back before leaving the corridor.

“If you decide to take that little trinket, avoid touching it with your bare skin. It’s coated in wolfsbane. We wouldn’t want you to be poisoned, would we?”

She let out a little chuckle before turning away, waving over her shoulder.

When Genevieve was out of earshot, Ben looked at the effigy. He approached it slowly then considered reaching out a hand, but stopped just inches from touching.

“To be honest... At least it would be better than what I’m feeling now,” Ben said quietly.

Cautiously, he pulled his sleeve over his hand then picked up the handcrafted figurine. With a few light jerks, he managed to rip the sleeve off his shirt and wrap it tightly for later. The last thing he picked up was the letter as he left to find what little remained of his pack.

Ultralight

@Burger: Just checking about what I need to do. So do I wait until the others return from the mission, write Tracey’s introduction back at the safe house or do you have other plans in mind? I don’t want to drop the ball on posting expectations and I wanted to make sure I’m on the same page. I know you said I might have to wait slightly, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to wait until after the mission to introduce her and interact or you had other ideas.

Ultralight

Name: Tracey Morgan Elmore
Alias: Bear
Personality:
Tracey’s alias is both her moniker and adequate description of her personality.

Inverted- She is soft-spoken in general and unassuming, but has a strong personality underneath. Actions are her preferred method for her expression. This can make it hard to get to know her immediately by others. However, when she’s found a long lasting friend her personality has its warm and gentle side. Whenever that friend is in danger, her aggression will surface in the form of a furious bear-like protector (figuratively and sometimes literally).

Isolation Recharge- Tracey sometimes needs to go off on her own in order to recharge her batteries. Mostly she’s locked heavily in her own thoughts or sleeping away, enjoying the lack of distractions. It is nothing personal. Everyone needs some me time to actually relax and let loose.

Modest- While Tracey knows she can hold her own in a fight or could be the strongest in a group, she won’t brag about it. In fact, she only mentions her skills when she thinks it might help in a situation. Any other time, she will shrug it off as unimpressive.

Values Actions over Words- Tracey holds little value in words. Actions, in her opinion, speak volumes and their outcome often reveal the true intentions of someone. It’s these she silently judges. If someone’s actions indicate harm or ill-will toward her, she will go to extreme measures to avoid them. On the other side of the spectrum, she will accommodate best she can to their wishes or demands. Sometimes it is easier said than done though.

Flaws

Laziness- Tracey will admit being lazy outside given tasks. Most times she rather eats, sleeps and does something she enjoys than be an adult. This can cause issues with her fellow contractors sometimes. Some fights can become bad enough she vanishes for the night and refuses to reappear until the next morning. Often the reason for the disagreement already put behind her as if nothing actually happened.

Spontaneous Impulses- She doesn’t plan anything. She lives in the moment, letting life take her along for the ride. If a mission comes along that Tracey can join than she’s all for it. During boring moments she will often find something interesting in the surroundings that can distract her. This makes the traditional conversation difficult for her often enough unless it’s critical to know.

Weakness for High Calorie or Sweet Things- This list includes honey, nuts, chocolate covered insects, fruit and junk food. If you find any of these in your possession, it’s best to share or you will find yourself being stared down by a lurking Tracey. Often she is ready to snatch up any leftovers, intimidate/guilt trip someone into sharing, or possibly snatch a stray piece from the owner’s hand when they fail to notice. She honestly can’t help it as the scent is attractive to her, even in her normal form.

Appearance:

Tracey has literally two appearances. The first one described is her original form and the second one is named the ‘werebear’ form, similar to the first with only minor changes. Another note is that any wound obtained on her person while in werebear form will carry over to her original one, especially limp removal as shown with her eye.

Original

Tracey stands at around 5’1” in height and of African-American descendant. Her genes give her body a soft curve with notably larger hips and small chest. Make no mistake that with her slight ‘plum’ shape, she is still in good physical condition. Faded scars criss-cross over her dark skin from her past experiences. The eye on her left side appears to have been removed and the skin is sewn closed, making a blind spot for her. To prevent stares or gawking, Tracey had let her bangs and hair on that side grow out. She then stylizes the wavy locks to cover it. Her remaining eye is a deep golden brown that feels more animal than human.

Werebear

When Tracey transforms, most her anatomy stays fairly close to human. Only specific areas of her body change in less than a minute. (Note, I’m not going into the details of her inside changes. I would have to research the differences in biology for man vs bear, and I think it’s just easier to assume the changes happen to allow it.)

Her figure bulks up but the main muscle gain is in her arms and legs, both still retaining most of their structure. Her arms gain about a few inches to match up length with her legs. This feature allows her to walk or run easily on all four when needed for short bursts. Each finger and toe sprouts about an inch and half claw able to rip apart flesh like a well-sharpened knife.

The changes don’t stop at her limbs though.

Around her mouth and nose, otherwise known as the muzzle area, extends into a hairless bear-like snout. The single eye’s inside shift creating a reflective back for night and day vision. Her ears widen into an upside down tear-drop shapes then shift a bit higher on her head, but only a few centimeters from where they originally were. Finally, as if someone flipped a switch on her hair, the sources on her arms, legs, and head grow. The hair on her head reaches to about shoulder length, but the hair on the arms and legs drape down about an inch. Extra hair sheds when she shifts back.

History:

Tracey was born the youngest daughter and raised within the Slums of Eden. It wasn’t all bad as she had a family to shared the hardships of her daily life. Her father and older brother worked long hours for a butcher house located in the business district. Every evening they would trudge home covered in aged blood and entrail bits, their clothes forever reddened by the mess. Thankfully her mother was an expert at cleaning clothes because she did it for a living working under the better off families in Centre. Alongside those duties, her fingers had developed callouses from the scrubbing and mopping throughout the day. It was a surprise they found any time to look after Tracey when she took the time to remember those days.

Since their family had four mouths to feed, rent to pay and other bills, Tracey quickly found herself in the workforce around the age of thirteen. She did simple tasks from rinsing off the blood from the butcher floor to selling papers in the streets, anything possible to earn extra money to support them.

By her sixteenth birthday, she found herself firmly employed in the butcher shop and running a stable job. It still barely managed to put meat on the table though. Walking home later than normal one day, she had gotten the sensation of being watched. It made her unease as she was still covered in blood from rinsing the floors. Pushing it from her mind, Tracey continued home only to see something shrouded in hair rush at her. It tried to hold her down as it managed to bite deep into her defending arm during the struggle. Tracey screamed into the night before the thing, smelling of blood and filth, bolted away. Likely startled by her reaction.

Still shocked and filled by adrenaline, she rose to her hands and knees. Tracey tore off the end of her apron then hastily wrapped her wound. With a wobbly gait, Tracey managed to edge her way home. When she just reached the door, she passed out on the front steps where her brother found her shortly afterward.

For the next week, Tracey gradually recovered from her wound. While she couldn’t identify the attacker, her brother logically concluded it was a starved, feral dog that had bitten her. It wasn’t completely far-fetched she reasoned in her head. However, her thoughts held deep and isolated doubts about the theory. There was no point in arguing the case because she couldn’t even recall it well now. Later on, she would regret treating the incident so lightly.

Over the years she had developed a crush Stephen Atkins, a charming young man only eight years her senior. He was charming and better off, but he had one flaw her family couldn’t overlook. He worked for the Sanhehui gang in the North Wards. That association brought nothing good from it according to her father and brother. Sadly, Tracey refused to listen. She met Stephen in secret during her brief breaks at the butcher until one day, her brother spotted them together.

The night that followed would be the last time Tracey would ever remember seeing her family alive.

During the fight over her future, the young woman felt strange and dizzy. Pain ripped across her mouth, ears, and arms. Her nose and mouth pushed out from her face, the muscles twisted into a beak-like snout. Each tooth elongated into vicious looking ones. The forehead sloped slightly while the eyes turned into beady, golden brown ones. Human ears enlarged to twice their normal size as they edged to stick on the sides of her skull for better hearing. Her once thin built increased notably in mass giving her a more burly appearance, especially centered around her limbs. Claw-like nails formed from her fingers with her hand still retaining its mostly human features.

Slowly her family’s expressions turned from anger to fear abruptly, their figures immediately recoiled from her. This was all it took to startle her into attacking. Tracey doesn’t remember exactly what happened next. Just a deep, dark regret over it all. She did clearly remember waking up in the street for the next morning. Confused, Tracey found herself covered in what she hoped was mud and slowly began to head home.

Neighbors had collected around the crime scene causing her to hesitate. As she got closer, she could see EdenPol taping the scene off and talking with a witness. Glimpses of what happened surged into her head causing her to redirect to the only person she hoped could help her. Stephen.

When she arrived, he was happy and pleased to see her safe. That enjoyment quickly left his eyes when she explained what had happened. Oddly unfazed, he reassured her everything was going to be alright. Tracey couldn’t do anything but blindly follow him. He suggested she see a man named Dr. James Schneider, then gave her directions to the doctor’s residence. The place appeared to be a run-down warehouse before she headed inside. It appeared she was expected because the moment she entered, a sharp sting of a sedative hit her neck. Her vision gradually became blurred before she crumbled to the floor.

The next two years were nothing but inhumane. She was forced to transform for live camera feeds, individuals applauding their sick enjoyment and demanding more. Naturally, these shows were blood filled affairs where ‘oddities’ were often prodded into a small, cramp arena and forced to fight each other. Sometimes until the victor ended another’s life at the audience’s whims.

Tracey could feel her humanity slowly die during her captivity, her time spent more in her ‘bearish’ form than out of it. Most nights were filled with licking her wounds, silently crying at her fate and learning about the other captives. Even if many of them looked like monsters, Tracey found most were just as scared and miserable as herself. They were all connected by a single desire: freedom.

One night, she and a few bolder ‘oddities’ plotted an escape. Tracey had been gradually working a few bars in her cage loose over the recent months. Nearly twice the men they called shepherds had almost caught her doing it. This made it dangerous to work on lately until Milo, an elderly man with a wolf version of her own abilities, offered to create a distraction. Tracey didn’t think anything about the consequences when she agreed to it. The man shifted then howled until the shepherds came. Frustrated, she flinched at the beating they delivered on Milo while she worked on her bars.

It hadn’t even registered in her head that they were beating him to death, even after Milo’s howls had turned into whimpers for mercy. When she spotted the men step back, their body gestures screamed something was wrong. The senior shepherd shouted to get the wheel barrel as he leaned down to check Milo’s still body. Tracey silently watched them haul the body away to the nearby furnace. They shoved him in like a dead log then left. The stretch of burning dead renewed to warm their cold dwellings.

With the men gone, Tracey forced her body to shift back into the girl she was once. Cautiously she twisted her unnaturally thin figure out through the narrow gap. From there, she slowly began to release a few of her fellow captives until the shepherd’s light appeared on her exposed back. All hell broke loose. Those who had been freed rushed either for the shepherds or the exit. Everywhere around her, a chaotic scene emerged. More cages were battered and more individuals were freed. During it all, Tracey somehow managed to find her way to Eden’s streets where she abruptly vanished.

A few months later, she was found by Ultralight.

She was rummaging through the trash bins in an area where a series of mysterious murders had taken place. As long as she didn’t become a victim, it wasn’t her concern. That would soon change. A man approached her for questions about the area, but Tracey just ignored him. The man didn’t take no for an answer as he followed her. Frustrated by his persistence, Tracey’s face had twisted into its bear-like appearance when she shouted at him. What surprised her most was the fact he didn’t recoil from her image. Instead, he offered a hand and a way she could find earn a living.

Warily she took it and the rest is history.

Capabilities:

While Transformed her stats are based on a black bear rather than a grizzly because I felt it fits her appearance and was less OP for the RP settings.

Strength- She is about 2.5 stronger than her original form. This enables her to shove a fully grown man out of her way, break a bone or knock down a thin tree easily. She also hopes to break down a door or two in the future. The bad part about this, anything delicate shouldn’t be left for her to do. It’s more likely to break with a slip of her claws.

Durability and High Pain Tolerance- Due to her bulk and experiences, she can take a serious beating in a weaponless fight and keep going. She can take several gashes from bladed weapons before risking bleeding out, but her endurance gradually fades. Eventually, if the fight keeps up too long when she’s critically injured, Tracey risks dying. Even a ‘werebear’ isn’t immortal.

Quadruped Sprinting- Though she can run while on two legs, her additional mass affects her balance and often slows her down. To counter this, Tracey’s bearish form can hit the ground running on all fours. In a clear straight shot at a target, she can run twice fast as a human for a short distance. Parkouring or turning on a dime is not in her capability so running anything down within an obstacle course setting is not happening, no matter how hard she tries.

A sense of Scent- Tracey’s nose is able to pick up individual scents, identify them (if she knows them), and even follow them for a fair distance. She even uses her nose to help cover her blind spots through her reacting speed might be slower. As long as a target has left behind a smell, she could track it. At least, when she’s not distracted by other scents and gets some practice in.

Eyesight- Tracey has sharp and good up close vision, able to see color and even adapt to nighttime conditions. This is because of a reflective layer called the tapetum lucidum grown on the back of her eye, allowing any traces of light to stimulate the cells in the retina. It gives her eye a distinct, bright green shine whenever hit by concentrated light at night. This also means very blinding lights can hurt and distract her for various length of time depending on her distance and its intensity. Farsight is rather poor and night vision doesn’t reach, turning anything beyond a yard into shadowy shapes.

Additional skills.

Brawler-Being forced into ring fights for a good two years has taught Tracey a lot. While her style is ‘freeform’ without any formal training, it suits her brute strength and straightforwardness. It’s best described as bear-style fighting. Close range combat isn’t an issue for her, but range weapons will prove a difficult challenge to overcome.

Body Language- Tracey is damn good at reading body language, even individuals that hide it. In fact, it’s her go-to for first meetings because she can tell how open a person is about themselves, how often they lie, and other needed to know facts for interaction. If she doesn’t like what she sees, her behavior will reflect it.

Adequate Climbing Skills- Though there are few trees, Tracey has developed an enjoyment of climbing whatever she can. As a human, her options are limited and often result in her being unable to get a proper foothold in some surfaces. However, when she goes full-on werebear her feet and hand claws can find little niches strong enough to push her upward easily. If the structure can hold her weight is a completely another story.

World Class Snorer- Tracey can drill a hole into a log when she snores, according to outside sources’ exaggerations. She completely doesn't believe it even when told otherwise.

Equipment:

Brass Knuckles- Due to paranoia about her situation, Tracey carries a set of concealable brass knuckles. Just because she can transform, doesn’t mean she will all the time and these pack enough power to discourage anyone from messing with her.

Other:

Larger bulk equals higher dosage if you try to put her down for any reason while in her werebear form. This also explains her large appetite since shifting requires a lot of calories.

With her left eye gone, Tracey has a blind spot while in human form. This blind spot is less of an issue while in her transformed state because of her sensitive nose but this is subjected to the whims and needs of the story. If a situation hinders that, I’m all for it as long it doesn’t make her look like a fool and is logically plausible. Examples are too many scents in her locations, the target doesn’t emit one she has prior knowledge of, etc.

Tracey has a dislike and slight fear of needles. Try to use one on her and she becomes fully aggressive in a blink of an eye, either threatening to punch someone or shove that needle where the sun doesn’t shine. This stems from her days in captivity where those who didn’t settle down were sedated against their will. Some even die from it.

Ultralight

@Fallenreaper Looks good, except for the image. I really needed to remove that bit in the CS, but I kept on forgetting. We're basically doing no image, written only. Which I do believe is good where it is, so it's just a matter of removing the image. Feel free to put in the CHAR tab after.

@Concept@Buzzkill ay where those posts at

Going to progress late Friday to advance the plot, so if you're going to wait there and just imply that you're ready in the office/chillin on the catwalk, tell me.

@Burger

Cool, thank you very much and I figured that was the case when no one else was using one. I'll likely keep the picture in my PM for reference whenever I need to describe her so everyone's on the same page when it comes to her appearance face wise. I'll place her into the tab shortly.

Ultralight

I went over this about 2-3 times, and I know there are still errors in grammar. I swear I was born and raised in the USA, so I know how to English! I also apologize for the length, I was enjoying making Tracey a bit too much.

Tracey Morgan Elmore

Name: Tracey Morgan Elmore
Alias: Bear
Personality:
Tracey’s alias is both her moniker and adequate description of her personality.

Inverted- She is soft-spoken in general and unassuming, but has a strong personality underneath. Actions are her preferred method for her expression. This can make it hard to get to know her immediately by others. However, when she’s found a long lasting friend her personality has its warm and gentle side. Whenever that friend is in danger, her aggression will surface in the form of a furious bear-like protector (figuratively and sometimes literally).

Isolation Recharge- Tracey sometimes needs to go off on her own in order to recharge her batteries. Mostly she’s locked heavily in her own thoughts or sleeping away, enjoying the lack of distractions. It is nothing personal. Everyone needs some me time to actually relax and let loose.

Modest- While Tracey knows she can hold her own in a fight or could be the strongest in a group, she won’t brag about it. In fact, she only mentions her skills when she thinks it might help in a situation. Any other time, she will shrug it off as unimpressive.

Values Actions over Words- Tracey holds little value in words. Actions, in her opinion, speak volumes and their outcome often reveal the true intentions of someone. It’s these she silently judges. If someone’s actions indicate harm or ill-will toward her, she will go to extreme measures to avoid them. On the other side of the spectrum, she will accommodate best she can to their wishes or demands. Sometimes it is easier said than done though.

Flaws

Laziness- Tracey will admit being lazy outside given tasks. Most times she rather eats, sleeps and does something she enjoys than be an adult. This can cause issues with her fellow contractors sometimes. Some fights can become bad enough she vanishes for the night and refuses to reappear until the next morning. Often the reason for the disagreement already put behind her as if nothing actually happened.

Spontaneous Impulses- She doesn’t plan anything. She lives in the moment, letting life take her along for the ride. If a mission comes along that Tracey can join than she’s all for it. During boring moments she will often find something interesting in the surroundings that can distract her. This makes the traditional conversation difficult for her often enough unless it’s critical to know.

Weakness for High Calorie or Sweet Things- This list includes honey, nuts, chocolate covered insects, fruit and junk food. If you find any of these in your possession, it’s best to share or you will find yourself being stared down by a lurking Tracey. Often she is ready to snatch up any leftovers, intimidate/guilt trip someone into sharing, or possibly snatch a stray piece from the owner’s hand when they fail to notice. She honestly can’t help it as the scent is attractive to her, even in her normal form.

Appearance:

Tracey has literally two appearances. The first one described is her original form and the second one is named the ‘werebear’ form, similar to the first with only minor changes. Another note is that any wound obtained on her person while in werebear form will carry over to her original one, especially limp removal as shown with her eye.

Original

Tracey stands at around 5’1” in height and of African-American descendant. Her genes give her body a soft curve with notably larger hips and small chest. Make no mistake that with her slight ‘plum’ shape, she is still in good physical condition. Faded scars criss-cross over her dark skin from her past experiences. The eye on her left side appears to have been removed and the skin is sewn closed, making a blind spot for her. To prevent stares or gawking, Tracey had let her bangs and hair on that side grow out. She then stylizes the wavy locks to cover it. Her remaining eye is a deep golden brown that feels more animal than human.

Werebear

When Tracey transforms, most her anatomy stays fairly close to human. Only specific areas of her body change in less than a minute. (Note, I’m not going into the details of her inside changes. I would have to research the differences in biology for man vs bear, and I think it’s just easier to assume the changes happen to allow it.)

Her figure bulks up but the main muscle gain is in her arms and legs, both still retaining most of their structure. Her arms gain about a few inches to match up length with her legs. This feature allows her to walk or run easily on all four when needed for short bursts. Each finger and toe sprouts about an inch and half claw able to rip apart flesh like a well-sharpened knife.

The changes don’t stop at her limbs though.

Around her mouth and nose, otherwise known as the muzzle area, extends into a hairless bear-like snout. The single eye’s inside shift creating a reflective back for night and day vision. Her ears widen into an upside down tear-drop shapes then shift a bit higher on her head, but only a few centimeters from where they originally were. Finally, as if someone flipped a switch on her hair, the sources on her arms, legs, and head grow. The hair on her head reaches to about shoulder length, but the hair on the arms and legs drape down about an inch. Extra hair sheds when she shifts back.

History:

Tracey was born the youngest daughter and raised within the Slums of Eden. It wasn’t all bad as she had a family to shared the hardships of her daily life. Her father and older brother worked long hours for a butcher house located in the business district. Every evening they would trudge home covered in aged blood and entrail bits, their clothes forever reddened by the mess. Thankfully her mother was an expert at cleaning clothes because she did it for a living working under the better off families in Centre. Alongside those duties, her fingers had developed callouses from the scrubbing and mopping throughout the day. It was a surprise they found any time to look after Tracey when she took the time to remember those days.

Since their family had four mouths to feed, rent to pay and other bills, Tracey quickly found herself in the workforce around the age of thirteen. She did simple tasks from rinsing off the blood from the butcher floor to selling papers in the streets, anything possible to earn extra money to support them.

By her sixteenth birthday, she found herself firmly employed in the butcher shop and running a stable job. It still barely managed to put meat on the table though. Walking home later than normal one day, she had gotten the sensation of being watched. It made her unease as she was still covered in blood from rinsing the floors. Pushing it from her mind, Tracey continued home only to see something shrouded in hair rush at her. It tried to hold her down as it managed to bite deep into her defending arm during the struggle. Tracey screamed into the night before the thing, smelling of blood and filth, bolted away. Likely startled by her reaction.

Still shocked and filled by adrenaline, she rose to her hands and knees. Tracey tore off the end of her apron then hastily wrapped her wound. With a wobbly gait, Tracey managed to edge her way home. When she just reached the door, she passed out on the front steps where her brother found her shortly afterward.

For the next week, Tracey gradually recovered from her wound. While she couldn’t identify the attacker, her brother logically concluded it was a starved, feral dog that had bitten her. It wasn’t completely far-fetched she reasoned in her head. However, her thoughts held deep and isolated doubts about the theory. There was no point in arguing the case because she couldn’t even recall it well now. Later on, she would regret treating the incident so lightly.

Over the years she had developed a crush Stephen Atkins, a charming young man only eight years her senior. He was charming and better off, but he had one flaw her family couldn’t overlook. He worked for the Sanhehui gang in the North Wards. That association brought nothing good from it according to her father and brother. Sadly, Tracey refused to listen. She met Stephen in secret during her brief breaks at the butcher until one day, her brother spotted them together.

The night that followed would be the last time Tracey would ever remember seeing her family alive.

During the fight over her future, the young woman felt strange and dizzy. Pain ripped across her mouth, ears, and arms. Her nose and mouth pushed out from her face, the muscles twisted into a beak-like snout. Each tooth elongated into vicious looking ones. The forehead sloped slightly while the eyes turned into beady, golden brown ones. Human ears enlarged to twice their normal size as they edged to stick on the sides of her skull for better hearing. Her once thin built increased notably in mass giving her a more burly appearance, especially centered around her limbs. Claw-like nails formed from her fingers with her hand still retaining its mostly human features.

Slowly her family’s expressions turned from anger to fear abruptly, their figures immediately recoiled from her. This was all it took to startle her into attacking. Tracey doesn’t remember exactly what happened next. Just a deep, dark regret over it all. She did clearly remember waking up in the street for the next morning. Confused, Tracey found herself covered in what she hoped was mud and slowly began to head home.

Neighbors had collected around the crime scene causing her to hesitate. As she got closer, she could see EdenPol taping the scene off and talking with a witness. Glimpses of what happened surged into her head causing her to redirect to the only person she hoped could help her. Stephen.

When she arrived, he was happy and pleased to see her safe. That enjoyment quickly left his eyes when she explained what had happened. Oddly unfazed, he reassured her everything was going to be alright. Tracey couldn’t do anything but blindly follow him. He suggested she see a man named Dr. James Schneider, then gave her directions to the doctor’s residence. The place appeared to be a run-down warehouse before she headed inside. It appeared she was expected because the moment she entered, a sharp sting of a sedative hit her neck. Her vision gradually became blurred before she crumbled to the floor.

The next two years were nothing but inhumane. She was forced to transform for live camera feeds, individuals applauding their sick enjoyment and demanding more. Naturally, these shows were blood filled affairs where ‘oddities’ were often prodded into a small, cramp arena and forced to fight each other. Sometimes until the victor ended another’s life at the audience’s whims.

Tracey could feel her humanity slowly die during her captivity, her time spent more in her ‘bearish’ form than out of it. Most nights were filled with licking her wounds, silently crying at her fate and learning about the other captives. Even if many of them looked like monsters, Tracey found most were just as scared and miserable as herself. They were all connected by a single desire: freedom.

One night, she and a few bolder ‘oddities’ plotted an escape. Tracey had been gradually working a few bars in her cage loose over the recent months. Nearly twice the men they called shepherds had almost caught her doing it. This made it dangerous to work on lately until Milo, an elderly man with a wolf version of her own abilities, offered to create a distraction. Tracey didn’t think anything about the consequences when she agreed to it. The man shifted then howled until the shepherds came. Frustrated, she flinched at the beating they delivered on Milo while she worked on her bars.

It hadn’t even registered in her head that they were beating him to death, even after Milo’s howls had turned into whimpers for mercy. When she spotted the men step back, their body gestures screamed something was wrong. The senior shepherd shouted to get the wheel barrel as he leaned down to check Milo’s still body. Tracey silently watched them haul the body away to the nearby furnace. They shoved him in like a dead log then left. The stretch of burning dead renewed to warm their cold dwellings.

With the men gone, Tracey forced her body to shift back into the girl she was once. Cautiously she twisted her unnaturally thin figure out through the narrow gap. From there, she slowly began to release a few of her fellow captives until the shepherd’s light appeared on her exposed back. All hell broke loose. Those who had been freed rushed either for the shepherds or the exit. Everywhere around her, a chaotic scene emerged. More cages were battered and more individuals were freed. During it all, Tracey somehow managed to find her way to Eden’s streets where she abruptly vanished.

A few months later, she was found by Ultralight.

She was rummaging through the trash bins in an area where a series of mysterious murders had taken place. As long as she didn’t become a victim, it wasn’t her concern. That would soon change. A man approached her for questions about the area, but Tracey just ignored him. The man didn’t take no for an answer as he followed her. Frustrated by his persistence, Tracey’s face had twisted into its bear-like appearance when she shouted at him. What surprised her most was the fact he didn’t recoil from her image. Instead, he offered a hand and a way she could find earn a living.

Warily she took it and the rest is history.

Capabilities:

While Transformed her stats are based on a black bear rather than a grizzly because I felt it fits her appearance and was less OP for the RP settings.

Strength- She is about 2.5 stronger than her original form. This enables her to shove a fully grown man out of her way, break a bone or knock down a thin tree easily. She also hopes to break down a door or two in the future. The bad part about this, anything delicate shouldn’t be left for her to do. It’s more likely to break with a slip of her claws.

Durability and High Pain Tolerance- Due to her bulk and experiences, she can take a serious beating in a weaponless fight and keep going. She can take several gashes from bladed weapons before risking bleeding out, but her endurance gradually fades. Eventually, if the fight keeps up too long when she’s critically injured, Tracey risks dying. Even a ‘werebear’ isn’t immortal.

Quadruped Sprinting- Though she can run while on two legs, her additional mass affects her balance and often slows her down. To counter this, Tracey’s bearish form can hit the ground running on all fours. In a clear straight shot at a target, she can run twice fast as a human for a short distance. Parkouring or turning on a dime is not in her capability so running anything down within an obstacle course setting is not happening, no matter how hard she tries.

A sense of Scent- Tracey’s nose is able to pick up individual scents, identify them (if she knows them), and even follow them for a fair distance. She even uses her nose to help cover her blind spots through her reacting speed might be slower. As long as a target has left behind a smell, she could track it. At least, when she’s not distracted by other scents and gets some practice in.

Eyesight- Tracey has sharp and good up close vision, able to see color and even adapt to nighttime conditions. This is because of a reflective layer called the tapetum lucidum grown on the back of her eye, allowing any traces of light to stimulate the cells in the retina. It gives her eye a distinct, bright green shine whenever hit by concentrated light at night. This also means very blinding lights can hurt and distract her for various length of time depending on her distance and its intensity. Farsight is rather poor and night vision doesn’t reach, turning anything beyond a yard into shadowy shapes.

Additional skills.

Brawler-Being forced into ring fights for a good two years has taught Tracey a lot. While her style is ‘freeform’ without any formal training, it suits her brute strength and straightforwardness. It’s best described as bear-style fighting. Close range combat isn’t an issue for her, but range weapons will prove a difficult challenge to overcome.

Body Language- Tracey is damn good at reading body language, even individuals that hide it. In fact, it’s her go-to for first meetings because she can tell how open a person is about themselves, how often they lie, and other needed to know facts for interaction. If she doesn’t like what she sees, her behavior will reflect it.

Adequate Climbing Skills- Though there are few trees, Tracey has developed an enjoyment of climbing whatever she can. As a human, her options are limited and often result in her being unable to get a proper foothold in some surfaces. However, when she goes full-on werebear her feet and hand claws can find little niches strong enough to push her upward easily. If the structure can hold her weight is a completely another story.

World Class Snorer- Tracey can drill a hole into a log when she snores, according to outside sources’ exaggerations. She completely doesn't believe it even when told otherwise.

Equipment:

Brass Knuckles- Due to paranoia about her situation, Tracey carries a set of concealable brass knuckles. Just because she can transform, doesn’t mean she will all the time and these pack enough power to discourage anyone from messing with her.

Other:

Larger bulk equals higher dosage if you try to put her down for any reason while in her werebear form. This also explains her large appetite since shifting requires a lot of calories.

With her left eye gone, Tracey has a blind spot while in human form. This blind spot is less of an issue while in her transformed state because of her sensitive nose but this is subjected to the whims and needs of the story. If a situation hinders that, I’m all for it as long it doesn’t make her look like a fool and is logically plausible. Examples are too many scents in her locations, the target doesn’t emit one she has prior knowledge of, etc.

Tracey has a dislike and slight fear of needles. Try to use one on her and she becomes fully aggressive in a blink of an eye, either threatening to punch someone or shove that needle where the sun doesn’t shine. This stems from her days in captivity where those who didn’t settle down were sedated against their will. Some even die from it.

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

&

Location: At the HoH base
Time: Attacking the second Base.

---

Fletch and Racheli scaled, with a bit of trouble, down the building that they managed to escape to earlier. Bodies of the unconscious and defeated Hounds of Humanity littered the streets where the heroes had left them. The place looked like a battlefield after the winning side had departed. Rach’s eyes noticed several heroes’ absences while the pair slowly navigated the now quiet scene. Police would be arriving shortly to clean up the mess causing the two to quickly locate what they were looking for: Fletch’s motorcycle. It appeared the vehicle had sustained some heavy damage during the clash. Fletch leaned over and examined it while Rach located another possible transport. They finally settled on a small, white van that was only slightly dented by a random fist.

After hot wiring it, the girls made their way toward where Iron Knight had indicated the HoH base was. Just outside they encountered Roadblock who looked like he was on lookout for any Hound that managed to escape. It appeared that the others had entered the building and were seeking to sabotage it, leaving those who fell behind to pick up the rear.

A grumbling Rach reached for the door when it abruptly opened, revealing Hound Dog’s confused expression.

She frowned, then turned to the other two, he thumb jerked in his direction “This guy with one of you two?”

There was a moment when the confused and clearly distracted Hound Dog stood speechless in the doorway. ”This is a bad time to get lost in thought, they make this place like a maze youse know all churning round ‘n round. Shocked how anybody is supposed to find their way.” Popping his collar he slipped into his suave bit giving a dashing smile and a slight pose to introduce himself. ”Name’s Hound Dog youse cool cats, met Fletch over there a while ago. And honestly, we need a map.”

Up until that point, Fletch had been in a bad mood. It had been pretty much that way since she learnt that her bike had been damaged during the fight against the Hounds. The various explosions had sent rubble careening against the paintwork she had spent ages and money to get perfect from Taylor’s Garage. And to top it all off, a stray bullet managed to rip through the electronics in the bike itself. No matter how much she would have tried, the bike wouldn’t start up without her thumb print recognition and that wouldn’t happen the way the bike was. While the descent from the rooftop with Nemesis in tow was just a funny inconvenience, looking back at it, it was nowhere near enough to get her out of the bad funk. The hot wiring of the van didn’t help her mood either, sparks firing into the car as she shouted expletives.

After asking Roadblock to tag along with the group and get inside the base, that bad funk she was feeling was apparent in her eyes. Now I’ve got to spend more fucking hours trying to fix the mess these asshats made, she thought, seething with the image of her toiling for hours to get her bike fixed. All because of these stupid ‘Hounds of Humanity’. Protecting our interests my a…

However, the archer’s thoughts got pushed to one side as Nemesis opened a door and revealed a person behind it. Before she even contemplated on getting her bow armed and ready to shoot the new person, she took the time to look at the person. Instantly recognizing as the lightning meta she came across when she met Voyager. Seeing that he was still alright, despite the shoulder injury he sustained during the brief time together, turned Kayla’s bad mood around. Now that they knew his name, Hound Dog, Fletch quickly confirmed what he said. With eyes looking relieved, she turns to Nemesis, ”It’s ok, Nemesis. He is one of the good guys, along with his partner Voyager.”

She then turns back to Hound Dog. ”To be honest, I’m glad you’re ok after the Hounds attack. Did the medkit help with your shoulder?”

”I don't feel anything anymore, turned off the nerves in my body so they don't transmit pain. Everything still attached to my chassis so I assume I'm well enough.”

”Oh… I guess that’s… good? Just be careful as to not cause further damage to it.”

She then thinks about the map comment. Raising her right hand to her chin, she ponders for a moment. ”Well… considering that the Hounds did take their advanced gear from S.T.R.I.K.E, I would assume that they’d have a database. If we find a terminal nearby, I’m sure we could get the blueprints of the base. Sound like a plan?”

”There's a lot of clustering wires down these halls. But yeah if we can find where they all connect we might be able to find a map and more. So smooth thinking.”

Having little idea what was being planned, Racheli’s eyes turned to Roadblock, and Hound Dog. She studied them for a moment before finally speaking what was on her mind, “I suppose you two came late to the attack? Before we walk into what could be death trap, what’s the highlight of your abilities? Fletch isn’t the strongest or most durable, but I do know her shot is dead on. I have no idea about you two…”

Taking a moment Hound Dog watched as lighting still crackled in the sky.”Easy. I'm a force of nature. I bring lighting and absolute control over it. Well until I finally find my limits. I can do magnetism as well.”

None of the other heroes could see it but Richard’s brows furrowed from the other meta’s comment.

Huh, that’s weird, I thought I came with everyone else….guess Blacklight really wasn’t that fast.

”Settle down, kid, don’t blow off all your energy showing off. As for me, I’m not so bad a shot myself, but I imagine with this suit I’m a little better armed and armored than the rest of you. I can tell a few of you are packing your share of scrapes and bruises, you let me take point and I’ll keep you all alive.” Richard gestured to the large riot shield on his back as he talked. Overall, his share of fighting was on the lighter side, so it was only polite that he offer to take point.

Smirking Hound Dog stated. ”If I was showing off youse would know it. But everything sounds like a plan.”

Fletch smiled underneath the cowl of hers. While the compliment Nemesis gave her was a rather unusual one, but it was a complement nevertheless. ”Thanks, Nemesis,” she responded to the comment. ”Must not forget that you can heal yourself from a lot of injuries. That’s more than my archery and my enhanced agility, courtesy of Evergreen again.”

Racheli rolled her eyes at the pair, a soft groan escaped her lips. Her head nodded at Fletch’s acknowledgement at her compliment and her arms crossed over her chest, letting the group continue.

While Fletch knew about what Hound Dog could do, the archer listened to what Roadblock had to say. From the exosuit he was wearing and the sound coming from it, she gathered she is a part of LHPD and that was something that made her hesitate slightly. After all, she did break into the HQ and ‘roughed up’ a suspect to get the information on the Penose. She even got around to naming herself Fletch after leaving a note behind to a Det. Hembolt. It would be risky if they’re still needing to take her in after all of that. But for now, she’s working with them to a common goal of the Hounds.

”But before we start a pissing contest,” she spoke up, rallying the group to focus on the task at hand. “We definitely should get inside and get to a terminal. If no one objects to it, Roadblock will take point. We’ll need to make sure we’re watching our backs as to not get surprised from behind. Anyone want to cover the back?”

Racheli shrugged, unbothered by the decision, “As long as he wants to take the risk, it’s his choice. I’ll cover the back unless someone thinks they are better suited for it. Through if they aren’t good at covering our asses, I’ll rip them a new one.”

”Unless one of you forgot to mention you were bulletproof, it’s not much of a choice.”

Shrugging Hound Dog replied ”I'm bullet resistant as long as there's military rounds. They tend to use ferromagnetic metals. Otherwise no.”

“If I knew how to fully use my abilities, I could do something similar. Right now, the only reliable one is the fact I can lose limbs and take several bullets without dying,” Rach tossed in to the list.

”Alright, I think I got the hint that I’m the squishy one,” Fletch moaned, her eyes not hiding the roll in them at the trio’s notes on their bullet resistance. She limps over to the doorway where Hound Dog was found, the bullet wound still itching her mind with its pain. ”Anyway, shall we make our way to that terminal?”

“It can’t be helped,” Rach pointed, slightly amused at Fletch’s resentment at being the least physically capable individual here.

***

As they edged deeper into the faculty, each one fell quietly into position. Their footsteps echoed in the identical halls while the group sought out a terminal. The walls were blended together by their white and pristine condition, giving a false sense of progression. Strangely there was no signs of life aside from the discarded gear or weapons scattered on the floor. Occasionally the white paint was broken by bloody smears across the surface.

Richard moved off slightly from the main group to inspect the blood, he moved in close to a nearby splotch to let his forensic sensors get a look at it, they were more limited and less detailed than a full laboratory but that was to be expected from a mobile peacekeeping unit, and at the very least it would help keep the data around until they could do a full investigation.

”It’s human blood, recent.” Artemis said privately to Richard through his helmet speakers.

”I would have thought that Pantheon meta would be the only violent one, but there isn’t a body, I don’t think it was him. One of the Hounds’ dirty work, or one of the other metas has a real mean streak” Richard said out loud, his voice took a sudden stern edge to it, and he found himself focused.

”Hhmm, blood splatter suggests victims were slashed. Did you see if anybody had a sword or knife?

”I haven’t seen anything of the sorts,” Fletch responded. The sight of blood was nothing new to the archer, seeing some of that through the combination of her ‘interrogations’, the gang war in Chinatown and when fighting the Hounds. Nevertheless, it still felt nauseous to her. While she had seen a few dramas where bloodstain pattern analysis was used, she didn’t have an idea on where to begin with looking at this. Not that it would help as forensics was out of her depth. ”I say keep an eye out though, just in case.”

Racheli’s neck hairs stood on end. Some primal, predatory instincts were screaming inside her head. Get out… Get Out… GET OUT! The urge kept getting louder the farther they went. The tingling sensation of being watched passed over Racheli’s back causing her to abruptly pause mid-step, her eyes pulled back over her shoulder. She spotted brief movement into an open vent. She frowned then cautiously edged into that direction followed by Hound.

Meanwhile at the other end of the long hallway appeared to be a control room. The setup was exactly what Fletch needed in order to map out the whole base. As Roadblock and the archer approached, they would spot a human figure of a Hound of Humanity slouched over in his chair. The first sign that the base wasn’t completely deserted yet.

Slouched over, what the hell is going on? Richard wondered as they got closer, it was weird as most of the Hounds seemed like they were trying to leave, they seemed to prefer death over capture, but if there was a chance he could take this one in alive he had to take it. But, why is his body the only one they’ve found so far.

Richard silently gestured for Fletch to wait behind and moved towards the Hound, he positioned one arm to grab the chair, and held his rifle in the other in case he needed it.

>

Hound Dog wondered why the air felt stale, as if this section were cut off from the rest of the underground facility while a heavy scent of iron waifed through the air. Continuing to ponder if what he and the other heroes were doing was justice, he had killed a few Hounds at the least and walking through this serile hall towards a control room of sorts that almost felt too clean almost like a lab save the smears of blood and the room ahead devoid of bodies. But as he continued to think to stop this concerto of crime started by the Hounds of Humanity heroes would need to rise and just like those before him he’d have his own challenges, even if they weren’t on a battlefield fought on a world’s stage. As the other two entered the room Hound Dog paused as the hero, or perhaps she was more villain than hero, Nemesis had begun to inspect a ventilation shaft. ”Hey hey. What we have here, these guys don’t strike me as the type to perform maintenance before fleeing a base, not when the city is about to be rubble. Think someone hid something there?”

Racheli paused long enough to touch the metal on her neck. It melted into liquid then thinned out across her skin, giving her appearance a metallic color now. It wasn’t the best protection, but it was better than just flesh and bone. Carefully she crouched down on one knee near the vent. Slowly her upper body edged to look inside. A red trail coated the vent’s floor as it slid around the corner then disappeared farther down. Claw marks tore along the tunnel where the thing had obviously haul itself forward in the cramp space.

“Maybe. Whatever was here, it’s using the vents to travel and been collecting the bodies I think. It’s gone now…” She lifted upright, frowning then added toward Hound.

“Unless you can fit into small spaces and want to follow it? I say fuck that though…I don’t think this was done by the group that came before us. It’s too predatory.”

>

As Roadblock closed in on the slouched Hound, Fletch stood her ground. While she had appeared to be on top of everything as they walked through the building, her body language suggested she was being far more cautious than before. Even her movements to have an arrow nocked on her bow betrayed such caution. I don’t like this, she thought, eyeing up the control room. Much like the hallway before it, blood was smeared from around the room and streaked into the two vents. As the blood was still fresh, it had set the archer on edge. Slowly, caution in her mind turned to dread.

As soon as Roadblock turned the chair, the Hound began to slide out of it. It hit the floor with an audible thud. The archer recoiled at the sight, raising her right hand to where her mouth was to stop the sudden nausea overwhelming her into puking. The man’s face had been ripped to shreds, the helmet doing naught to prevent what attacked him from getting to it. Several claw marks streaked over the surface, gouging through everything that he was wearing. It was clear to whoever was in the control room that the man was dead. But what worried Fletch the most was the blood, still oozing out from the wounds. ”Stay sharp!” she suddenly barked, her right hand snapping onto the string of her bow. ”Whatever caused all this is sti…”

It was then that Kayla saw it. While she couldn’t figure out what it was, she saw movement coming from the lone vent in the control room from the corner of her left eye. Her body turned to face the vent, catching her sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, Roadblock and turned to face her and the vent. Her heart raced higher and her breath got more ragged as fear was slowly starting to set in. She focused on the vent, trying to figure out what was in there. After a few intense moments, nothing. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? Was there really nothing in the vent? At first, she began to ease off. Snap out of it, Kayla, she thought, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. It was just a figment of your imagin… Audible in the room, a gutteral snarl crept into the control room, audible enough to be heard from the hallway. The archer’s eyes betrayed the sheer panic as glowing red eyes appeared in the vent. Vicious teeth were visible from the same glow that came from whatever source the creature had inside of it. It was at that moment, everything went to hell.

”WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING?!”

”Get back!” Richard had shouted, but his warning wouldn’t have been fast enough.

Without second thought, not even a moment to think on instinct, Fletch snapped the bow taught and loosed an arrow into the vent. Panic had set in when a howl suddenly erupted from the vent as the arrow hit its mark. Not deterred by what had hit it, the creature surged from the vent, gunning straight for the archer. Without any moment to think about it, she rolled out the way as the beast dodged her and slammed into the opposite wall. As soon as the beast regained its composure, the sirens in the immediate area of the control room blared out in time with the flashing red lights.

”UNKNOWN BIOLOGICAL SUBJECT IN THE CONTROL ROOM. LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT.”

A few clicks of the gears in all the doors around the control room and the hallway simultaneously went off. A moment later, thick, titanium doors dropped from the archways in the vents and the control room doorway. Slamming shut with a loud crash, another titanium door slammed shut, appearing out from the recess in the middle of the hallway. As the sirens blared out, whatever was in the area was trapped.

And they were not alone.

Ultralight

<Snipped quote by Fallenreaper>

I think I can accept one more, but there might be a slight wait before you can fully join in. After the current chapter (so to speak), there would be a bit more of an opportunity to organically introduce your character. Feel free to spitball ideas and make a character in the mean time.

@Burger

That works well for me because I can use the wait to edit, adjust and get a feel for the world we are playing in. I'm patient so there's no worries, ^-^ thank you. I'll have a pm shot at you shortly with one or two ideas after I wake up fully.

Ultralight

I read the first post in the OOC and found myself a bit interesting in joining. Before I make a CS, I would like to know if this rp is still accepting players or not. When I know that, I'll toss some ideas out to the GM and hopefully find something fitting for this setting. I am hoping to do something interesting, but I rather not break the pre-established world that has been created. I'm also branching out from my usual rp group so pardon the nervousness here.

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

<Snipped quote by Fallenreaper>

That sounds both extremely unethical and very dangerous...

@Dedonus

No, dangerous would be asking one of the other players. XD

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

<Snipped quote by Fallenreaper>

Oh....if you're trying to access my brain good luck with that...there isn't much in there

@nitemare shape

I have to start somewhere. Though that explains a lot.