I like the sound of this! I understand hiatuses. Every time I come back I try to join a new group or two but they inevitably lead to an early death every time.
Perhaps I shouldn't mention that.
I'll think of character concepts while I'm at work and check on this throughout the day if you're considering moving forward with this.
I've absorbed as much of the lore as I think I can hold! If you're still taking people on, I have a concept for a Maester's Children Guide (bear with me, I know it looks like I'm trying to do a bit of everything).
I'm thinking something like this: A Kessler's Pack generation Werewolf joined the Coven, was involved with a dimension tear-related accident, was retrieved and practically announced dead, and sent to become a Maester's Child. While not physically imposing like most Werewolves, they still have a tie to Black Sciences and is deeply religious, using mods and tears alike to escalate them into a powerful specialist or support unit to serve in the Bloodhound Elite.
As a Maester's Child, they spend much of their time with the neural network spreading good news.
Are you still accepting characters? I've had several concepts I'd like to throw out there if so. You mentioned also that you may accept a homunculi, so I would like to know a little more about them before I commit to writing.
1. When they are formed with materials and a soul, is a new soul generated or is one taken/given/sacrificed/what-have-you? If an existing soul is used, can memories, personalities, or any other defining features of a person be retained during their creation?
2. When created, do they automatically possess the skills of their function or must they be learned/trained? Being sentient, and having personalities, are they are able to develop other skills?
I have a few concepts and here is one I'd like to expand on after deliberation. (Might want to skip down to the backstory first, but you do you)
Name: Benjamin (placeholder)
Age: 30?
Gender: Male
Appearance: A disheveled man reaching what should be his prime years, instead looks like an addict suffering from withdrawals.
Personality: Empathetic of those in despair. Has a strong moral compass, though doubt of his own abilities inhibits him. Stands away from others due to overwhelming sense of no belonging.
Abilities: No Affinity
Trait: Amplifier - Enchanted equipment have more powerful effects when used. May also be used in conjunction of another magi (only one at a time). To do so, he must stand directly behind the caster and perfectly mirror their movements and chants. Can do so without prior coordination, but has no agency during a spell's cast time.
Skills:
Uncanny Dodge: Although lacking in the ways of physical prowess, he manages to keep from taking direct hits from projectiles and melee attacks (may stumble in the process; can be magically held to negate this).
Sense of Direction: He somehow knows exactly where he is and how to get somewhere as long as he has been there before or has seen a map. Can be fooled by any type of illusion unless it affects his perception of space.
Or Lack Thereof: Clearly was not given the skill to know any languages, written or spoken. Knows Basic English due to limited time with teachers. Big words are lost on him, folks. But he can learn!
On the Subject of Learning: Was created with the highly sought-after skill of perfect recall. Given enough time (of which is a precious resource for him), he could be fluent in languages. Depending on the detail of memory, needs more time to correctly remember events.
Assets: Whatever equipment is given to him by those in charge / the clothes on his back.
Brief Backstory:
An unfortunate story of an unfortunate soul that was trapped and subsequently used in a hasty ritual to create a homunculi by some malicious individual. Jumping awake in the middle of some dank basement, surrounded by all manners of reagents and is naked within the middle of some ancient looking symbol upon the floor, he slowly gathers his thoughts of who he may be. It feels as though his heart will never stop beating at its intense rate, a constant pounding inside his chest.
There are journals, books, scraps of paper and sketches all around the room of some form of Human. Goals, perhaps, an idea of who he should've been. It shows someone steady, strong, confident. A fighter? None of this is comprehensible, but he does realize he is not this person. He is not steady, he quavers with every move. He is not strong, his limbs are don't even seem half the size of the one depicted. He is not confident; he is uncertain of his location, his reason of being, even of his own will to live.
A heavy, wooden door is firmly closed atop the stone steps. He would not have even known it was there were it not for the sudden rapping. He doesn't understand the yelling. A heavy 'clunk' and the lock is undone. A stream of light momentarily blinds the homunculi, though he makes no attempt to shy away or shield his eyes. Others quickly approach him as he loses consciousness.
So, this is an 'improperly created' homunculi, who is burning up his lifespan like crazy. If it weren't for the usefulness of his trait, he may have been mercy killed by those who discovered him. Though now he is living on borrowed time -- just as long as he is useful.
If this isn't accepted, I understand. I also have ideas for a spatial affinity magi.
Everyone is speaking their piece. Unfortunately, it is coming as a form of debate. She listens intently to everyone's words, to each thought of confidence and fear. Their stress is valid, after all. A risk not simply of their lives as pilots, but to the possibility of backfire with horrendous potential. She nods, however, when Copper offers his more positive perspective.
"And you've got Wednesday and me, too." Sunni speaks up, her eyes having watched everyone as they spoke and allowed their passions to start getting the better of themselves. "I know the whole crew is in this operation one-hundred percent. Don't forget, y'all, we have been trainin' for missions like this. The Admiral wouldn't send us in to die. He believes we can do it, so I do too."
Sunni nervously takes a sip from her cup. Not one for doing speeches or trying to be in the spotlight, she slowly takes a seat. There were hopes her words could put the questions and worries at bay for a time. The mission would launch in hour, after all. As much as Sunni would love to ensure that everyone gets all the answers they want, they don't have the time for it. There's even a chance that their leader wouldn't give the right answers to their concerns. For now they should fight, then they could debrief as their possibilities lay before them in a more clear fashion.
"Just tell me what to do, Admiral, sir. Would you like me to be a part of Phase One with the scoutin' and raids, or hang back until Phase Two?"
"Everythin' looks optimal, Wednesday!" Sunni announced cheerfully, her Dragon responded in kind by closing its eyes and giving a slow nod of its head. The diagnostics pad she held between her paws showed a screen full of statistical jargon. "We'll be flyin' just like in the simulations real soon. We'll finally be doin' some good."
She placed the pad upon its dock with the computer and brushed at her leggings to dust off any imaginary particles. Parasite would shift and saunter closer to where she stood, causing the young Uplift to laugh. "Not yet, silly." A big smile as she reached out and stroked the side of his head. It was at this moment the Dragon would flinch, its ears reacting to some force or noise. Parasite wasn't in pain, but it did move with some confusion.
"Wednesday?" She started, quickly checking the diagnostics pad again. Everything seemed normal until she noticed a line where a third party had tapped into Parasite's detection system. Parasite's passive echolocation ability was being transmitted elsewhere, likely nearby on the ship, although it ended after a brief moment. It arose some concern, but all she gave was a sigh and another smile to Parasite.
"I'll log this and send in a ticket later. Doubt it was Shard, so I'ma give a lecture to someone for usin' your systems without permission!" A confident nod and a grin to cross her face before the announcement alarm sounded.
"Attention: all Pilots, proceed to Situation Room A for briefing. Briefing will start at 1900 hours. Thank you."
"An hour, huh? Don't wanna be late. I'll see you later, okay?" With a wave, she turned on her heels and bounded off to the transport. During this walk, however, she decided she had plenty of time to grab some caffeine and instead made her way to the mess hall; a journey that took enough of her time that she had to speed walk to the briefing room.
Time: 1900
Sunni entered the room. Copper was there, drinking coffee from a cute mug ("I love it! Is that Papa Bear?" as she passed by). Maye stood out in the center of the room, ready to lead her and her comrades to victory, King standing at attention nearby. She was beginning to wonder if anyone else had yet shown up when she jumped upon seeing Crevix was hiding along the back of the room. With a quiet laugh, she waved to him and sought to join the others that are close to the Admiral.
"Honeycomb reporting in, Admiral, sir." She would give a quick salute, her free paw still holding a disposable cup.
I'll fix up this Bio later to make it real nice. For now, know I used to RP all the time but I had a few years hiatus. I'm back!
Preferred RP types: Fantasy (high or low), sometimes Slice of Life, sometimes Sci-Fi.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">I'll fix up this Bio later to make it real nice. For now, know I used to RP all the time but I had a few years hiatus. I'm back!<br><br>Preferred RP types: Fantasy (high or low), sometimes Slice of Life, sometimes Sci-Fi.</div>
Izurich
ButtsnBalls
Shu