Feisty-Pants

Epic City: Starburst

Looking for some character interaction, if possible. Anyone wanna go to church at all?

Epic City: Starburst

Hey Reg. Mind if I join in? Also, gonna message you about changes to Override.

@Override

I hope he says yes. Come to church. :P

Harry Potter World RP

1. Not a great GM either, so you guys have at it.

2. Any year is preferable, but an do all first year if necessary. As a reminder, certain activities are off-limits for First Years. Things like Quidditch (Harry was lucky, damn lucky.) and Hogsmeade are off limits for First Years, and the latter is still off limits for Second Years.

3. Either or. Getting into the root history of Hogwarts would be interesting, but unnecessary.

4. A little out of column A and a little out of column B?

Harry Potter World RP

Count me as interested as long as it's High Casual or better quality. I love the HP universe. ^^

Epic City: Starburst

@Feisty-Pants, I like. We were missing a religious character. And you sound a little more knowledgeable about the city than I do.

@Regitnui

Ah. Neato. Ironically I am as sacreligous as you can get IRL.

I travel slot too, go to NYC every now and when, albeit briefly. ^^;

Epic City: Starburst

@Feisty-Pants, frost protocol? You'll know when the event starts.

@Regitnui

There. Posted. What do you think?

Epic City: Starburst

The Archangel -- Believer

The wind was cold and cruel, and bit without respite at her lungs.

Atop the spire of the Empire State she stood while her ascetic's clothing fluttered in in the wind, and the wisps of gold that was her hair took in the sunlight. The world below was ever moving, ever changing, a chaos which was duly embraced by the ones who thrived in it, and despised by those who refused to understand it. It was a chaos that she had embraced and lived well within, but it came at a price: The Clairvoyant had deemed it necessary that she spend most of her time as a protector. So the silence of interaction she held between other people, let alone fellow Epics was harrowing in some instances...but it was necessary. If anyone found out who she was, her family would be at risk.

It was not worth having friends.

Her only company would be the cold, and the blood of the adversaries of Epic City.

Slowly her hands closed into fists, and there would be a flicker of light. The shine of the sun refracted off her surroundings for a moment, casting a glance of multicolored brilliance for a moment before she simply took a step forward off the edge of the spire, and she plummeted towards the earth. A rush of wind chilled her spine, cries of horror beneath to the idea she was a jumper, and the roar of unceasing traffic all intermixed together in a confusing cacophony.

It was entrancing in a sense, perhaps even tempting to do nothing; after all, she had come so close to death so many times before. In the world of living deities like the High, she often wondered what actually lay beyond the veil of mortality. Was the divine preached by the countless religions the world the truth? Or were the High the messengers of God, and no one knew it? Death was always over her shoulder, she was sure. Waiting, watching for the opportune moment. Such a moment was not nigh however, she was a servant of the people. When the people no longer needed her help, she would finally be free for him to reap.

Since such was true in the very least, there would be a change.

Lines of light traced through the air from her shoulder blades; curving, taking the shape of blindingly radiant wings, the new wings of light she created flared open, and her direction of motion sharply changed. Just barely above the ceilings of unending traffic, she tore through the air. Blurring past all the madness, the horns honking, and the cabbies cursing, her emerald gaze studied and carefully watched those she flew past. It was a note, a study of curiosity, for she also often wondered exactly how many Epics now walked through the bustling crowds, keeping up an act of normalcy for the sake of survival. Epics which would cry out in surprise just as so many countless others would as she whipped past in a rush of air.

She was intent on a stop before the beginning of her day, a stop which was part of her daily morning ritual.

One pause in the bustling nature that allowed her at least some form of peace, albeit briefly. Upon granite and weary stone she landed before the steps of the gorgeous St. Peter's church. It was tranquil there, as the massive doors crept open with an agonizingly long squeal that echoed through the steeples of gothic architecture. At long last however, the world fell silent as the doors closed. All the chaos, all the madness of New York was nothing inside this place. Past shafts wondrous multicolored light cast by the stained glass windows she strode along, the sound of her boots muffled by the crimson carpet.

In one clenched hand she held a rosary, a symbol of the threads of belief she still tried to desperately cling to.

With each step, the wings of light she held began to dissipate, as each feather of the radiant constructs fell in her wake as if she were molting. Into a pew she slid, and the girl dropped to her knees in prayer. Having already confessed a few days prior, she instead began by crossing herself, folding her hands together, and speaking clearly as the wings finally ceased to exist. On the opposite side of her, the Nuns of the convent simply stared at her in amazement for a moment before resuming the lighting of candles, and she spoke with a beautifully elegant voice into the heavens.

"Pater noster,
qui es in caelis,
sanctificetur nomen tuum.
Adveniat regnum tuum.
Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra.
Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie,
et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut,
et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris.
Et ne nos inducas in tentationem,
sed libera nos a malo. Amen."

She could only hope that her trespasses would be forgiven indeed.

For in the end, no matter how hard she fought for good...she would still always be a murderer.

Epic City: Starburst

<Snipped quote by Feisty-Pants>

@Athoriel

Too dark?

That aside...hm. I think I've an idea.

Epic City: Starburst

The Archangel

Name: Jeanne d'Luc

Epic Identity: The Archangel

Age: 20

Faction: Epic

Ability: Light Manipulation -- Jeanne can take existing ambient light and alter it at will. She can even so intensely compact the particles together that they can take a hardened form. Allowing herself to give herself wings, or dozens of floating swords that are made of pure light.

Weakness: Cast Iron -- If she has a piece of Cast Iron anywhere on her form, whether it be manacles, chains, or even a small ball bearing, she will have her powers fully cancelled.

Personality: When it comes to Jeanne's personality, she possesses an outright conviction for what she believes is right, and what is wrong. To which she relentlessly pursues action against the latter. For the Epics, for those she deems as a force of good, she often volunteers to be the spearhead in any large conflict that might arise.

Appearance: Jeanne's appearance when she is in her normal state, is rather simple but pleasant all the same. Sticking to simple, but decent fashion standards, her usual normal clothing consists of a white blouse, a black skirt, and the entirety of her ankle-length blonde hair tied up into a loose braid. Her legs are often enshrouded in stockings, and she wears heels as well. She holds a professional air about her, and that is simply the best way to describe it.

Her appearance as a heroine however, is that which can be best described as an angelic aesthetic, complete with radiant wings:

The Archangel

Background: The early life of the Archangel contains the sort of misery that is so commonplace in the lives of thousands. When she was but a toddler her father disappeared; and her mother, unable to support their fledgling family, found their salvation in remarriage. Marriage to a man who gave her family food and shelter, a place to live, but at a cost.

He struck his wife, savagely beat her and treated her like filth for the entirety of Jeanne's childhood. Terrified for her only child and not wanting her to see any of such abominable behavior, she locked Jeanne inside the closet to try and protect her. There, in the pitch black darkness, she was forced to sit there and listen to the sounds of horror beyond the barrier. How the very floor shook with her stepfather's fury, the rattle of the walls as he threw her mother against them, the muffle of her screams as he tried to suffocate her, the sound of her mother being forced to scrub her own blood off the walls after suturing her wounds.

Almost every day this nightmare continued for many years, until one fated day she awoke. When she was barely just nine years of age, in the darkness there was a light. A faint glimmer of starlight that flickered in her hands, filling the closet with radiance. Her stepfather, holding her unconscious mother by the collar, saw the light dancing beneath the edge of the door that evening, and swung it wide open with the intention of beating her for lighting a fire.

When she was the tender age of nine, she took her first life.

While his fists clenched with cruel intention, she recoiled back and away from him in fear. When she curled up in terror, the light before her expanded and shattered. Breaking apart into hundreds of daggers which tore through the air faster than he could blink, and tore through him. Impaling him into the wall behind him and leaving his body in a maimed and ravaged ruin. Once his life faded from his eyes, the light dissipated into dust into the air, and her mother awoke to a grisly scene: her husband torn asunder by an invisible weapon, and her daughter curled up and consumed with inconsolable tears in the closet.

Detectives were at a loss. There was no weapon, there was nothing that could possibly link the wife or the girl to the murder. His death was ruled as an accident; but the Epics of New York knew better.

Within just a few weeks of the incident being resolved, there was a visitor. A mysterious individual who Jeanne eventually came to know as The Clairvoyant. The founder of Epic City had seen what had occurred, and with her counsel, she managed to convince her mother to bring her to Epic City. Under close and careful monitoring accompanied by the instruction of Epics more experienced than her, Jeanne became an adept in her craft. As she grew both physically and mentally, her potency in her abilities also grew exponentially.

Where the horrors of her childhood would have made others shrivel up, she found strength in it. As a result, she began striking out on her own, taking her abilities to the streets and protecting those who could not protect themselves by the tender age of thirteen. She had learned concise control by then, and no other lives were taken, but the young girl became to be known as an Archangel. A being of light, a persona that she quickly embraced as a symbol of righteousness.

A symbol hope for those who had none.

Yet her troubles were not at an end, as her mother fell ill and passed away by the time she was fourteen, and instead of being put into an orphanage, she was adopted by the Church of St. Peter as they found her to be an inspiration. There, an elderly nun who eventually became the Mother Superior helped raise her from then on forward, and by her strict guidance, Jeanne grew from her rebellious teenage years into a dedicant of the Church.

Loving her new family, she visits them every day before departing out on the work that The Clairvoyant deems necessary for her.

Done, I think!!!

Epic City: Starburst

There are two "events" happening: One in Central Park and the other in the middle of town closer to Times Square. The characters are currently in civvies and will be so for a little while longer.

@Regitnui

Hmh. Okay! Jeanne will be Overwatch. I think. Maybe.

Would she have heard that Frost Protocol implementation?