RedXCross

RedXCross' Room for Improvement.

CS

Cazzio Amastael

Name: Cazzio Amastael
Race: Human

Magic and Abilities

The Astral Promise

Cazzio dedicated himself to understanding the world beyond after a chance encounter with a spirit at a young age. Unable to identify its true identity and only being offered a word in explanation was enough to convince him to tread down the path of understanding the spirit. While his research usually involved gravedigging and reading through more nefarious texts, Cazzio has managed to harness astral power as his own.
When he begins to call upon the powers he’s harnessed, blue lines ignite and trace up from his palms, around his arms, and even crossing his face. The more magic he uses, the more these bars start to lose their glow (starting from the top, going downwards)

The First Rite – Astral Flame: Cazzio calls on the bonds he’s formed with the hidden beings of shadow to create ghastly fire meant to burn through material and cause serious damage. The fire cannot pass through consecrated iron or holy symbols, but the white-blue flames become his main method of attack in most combat scenarios. The fire can be shaped or used as desired (be it defense or a number of methods of offense) and is rumored to even burn away at the soul if it consumes all else.
The flames are also significantly stronger the darker it is, and weaker in direct sunlight.
The burns sustained from his fire are rumored to never heal, but they eventually fade in a few weeks or with magical intervention.

The Second Rite – Unfinished Business: – Cazzio calls on the spirits to reach outwards with their regrets and woes. This manifests as a powerful scream that causes serious discomfort and sometimes pure fear in the eyes of his opponents as they see the images of the beyond. If the enemy is close enough, then the spirit force will repel the opponent away from him and give a little space to continue use of his other powers.

The Third Rite – Astral Baptism: – Taking the Astral Flame to the next level, Cazzio bathes himself in flame and takes on a stronger, more hellish form. His face takes on the form of a skull and his whole body starts to burn with the astral fire. While in this form, his magic slowly depletes and use of his other powers deplete his magic much faster in exchange for a boosted power. His body becomes more resilient to physical attacks, though he becomes extreme susceptible to holy symbols, consecrated iron, and magic light used in an offensive stance against him. The fire on his body does burn to the touch, and he does get an extended strength, though normally he can only maintain the form for 3-5 minutes before the fire starts to burn away at his own mortal coil. Superficial burns tend to cover his body if he pushes this form too far.

The Fourth Rite – Astral Projection: – After undergoing the Astral Baptism, Cazzio can release a spirit from himself to reach forward in an astral form either to distract, restrain, or scare. The ghost disappears when subjected to similar weaknesses, but it can hold a person down by the hands or wrists, is indistinguishable from Cazzio’s actual body in the night time, and can only communicate through cold whispers and loud screams.

The Final Rite – Last Testament: – a last-ditch effort in most situations, Cazzio wills the fire surrounding him to spread and burst outwards while allowing spirits to take him over. Cazzio immolates himself in the fire and takes his opponents with him as the astral flame bursts outwards from him and captures everyone in the area. The fire is relentless and eats away even at his own body as the ground cracks beneath his feet and the spirits of those past fly upwards to claim any that cannot resist the fire. In the process, Cazzio expends all his magic, and if he doesn’t have enough he sustains a serious amount of damage both to his body and to his soul.

Personality

”No matter how much you try to tell people they ‘can’t ignore history,’ they still try fighting with a pointy stick when a sword exists.”

Cazzio tends to be a bit of a defeatist when it comes to the path of humanity. He will talk your ear off for ages about whatever he’s been reading at the time regardless of subject matter and he’s very bad at reading the room. He’s known to spend whole battles attempting deep conversation with the opponent regardless of the intensity of the battle, and no one has really been able to figure out how to get him to start talking since the beginning of the universe.

Despite his general disappointment in people, he tends to have a deep respect for the members of the academy because of their dedication to a craft, and he isn’t shy when it comes to admitting to that admiration. As such despite how he sounds he can be quite personable and bubbly in the right situations. The fastest way to become friends with Cazzio is to ask interesting questions, especially ones he doesn’t know the answer to.

That being said, Cazzio is terrified of those in charge and those obsessed with power. He’s always expected these sorts of hierarchies to fail him, and his communion with some spirits have done little to dissuade him of this opinion. His attempts to make himself seem stronger tend to falter when faced with vicious adversaries or superiors generally have the opposite effect thanks to his usual earnestness. Even so, he hates people making assumptions about him and his abilities. His power may come with an uncomfortable reputation, but he worked hard to earn it, and those that assume he didn’t, or that it is only because of some pact that he is strong are wrong and he will be sure to let you know that.

Background

Cazzio grew up in a small village to the east of Zauberheim where he, like many young children, spent most of his days assisting with farm work, running errands for friends and family, or generally getting into hijinks. He was a very bored kid, which often got him into all kinds of trouble when he went looking for something to do.

“With all this work to be done, how’re you bored?” was a common line from his father when he was found sneaking out to the barn at night or drawing in places where he wasn’t supposed to be. Eventually, through some odd connections and the nature of a small farming town, Cazzio found his way to Lady Renaile’s doorstep.

Most people stayed away from the elderly lady that lived at the edge of the village, mainly to offer her some privacy, but most also knew her story. Supposedly she was an elven woman who used to be an accomplished sorceress in her day, but had decided in her older age to settle down in a quiet place and take some time just to relax. As such, she was one of the few people in town with a collection of books from her journey of adventures, and many other magical items that would require quite an explanation.

Through Cazzio, the pair struck up a curious relationship. She found a boy desperate for knowledge, for any way of getting out of this boring situation, so she taught him how to read. It started with simple fiction and old textbooks stored away, but eventually she started to gain a bit of intuition on the boy and realized that there was potential there for a magical gift. She put it to the test with an ancient tome that once belonged to quite the powerful mage, and through the boy’s studies of the tome his whole perspective started to change.

He witnessed his first ghost in his own barn one night. He had taken the book home as he normally would to seek through the pages, and through a flash of blue light suddenly he was seeing the world differently. In fact, he witnessed an old spirit appear right in the middle of his barn that night – an old man with a long beard and a bald head. It was what the tome had described as First Contact, and through this contact his powers caught a spark and never faded away. The blue lines traced up his body in spirals and sigils, his eyes changed from a deep brown to an icy blue, and with the help of Renaile and the spirit he trained enough to access his First Rite.

The town started to grow weary of the “cursed boy” as they called him. His parents grew hesitant around him, and he paid them little mind as he continued to pursue his studies. He was only discovered by the Seraph Academy when one of the merchants had travelled through to the big city, bringing with him the rumors of the Haunted Farm Boy.

They came for him first, inviting him to come with them to the academy right away, but Renaile denied them the first time, saying that he would only come to the school when he was ready. And three years later, with her blessing, he left on his own pilgrimage to the walled city, set to acquire more knowledge about not only magic, but society in general.

Other:

Astral Baptism Form

sample

Cazzio took a deep breath as his dirtied boots met cobblestone instead of dirt and he stepped into the capital. Already the boy's eyes were alight with wonder as he tugged at the small bag wrapped around his back and wandered forward. Already he knew that Renaile wasn't lying when she had told him about this place.

The city was huge. Bigger than huge. Even as he dodged a crowd of muttering citizens (many of whom with features he'd never seen on a person) he finally felt a little comfort in letting down his hood. It became clear that the markings that accompanied his magic power would do little to help him stand out, especially when he witnessed a woman grin at a corner as the poles she juggled shimmered and shifted without regret.

Maybe... she would know?

"Uhm, Excuse me, Ma'am," Cazzio called, doing little to hide the commoner's accent that had grown up as his own, "D'you think you could direct me to the Seraph Academy?"

The woman looked down at him for a moment, and without moving her hands the juggling poles hung in the air, the glittering points all pointed in one direction as the small crowd gathering let out a little applause. With a nod, and a drop of the last of his coins into the tin plate at her feet he made his way off in that direction.

With a nose in a book for most of his upbringing, his sense of direction was perhaps not the best. As a straight direction turned into one alley and then the next, he was prepared to turn around and start all over again when a familiar sound rushed by his ear, followed by the cold touch of a unique force.

He snapped his fingers, and in a moment his eyes were alight with his astral fire. Sure enough, floating at the corner of the hallway was an glowing, translucent dog staring back at him with its hollow eyes. Cazzio thought he'd been able to ignore things like this, but perhaps the crowds and the new experience that was the city was enough of a distraction to let his guard down. Other than warn him of its presence, however, the dog did little.

"You wouldn't know how to get to the Academy, would ya?"

The dog vanished in a flash of bluish flame, and the bright light forced Cazzio to shield his eyes. Only a moment later did they open, and in doing so he found himself standing in the middle of an intersection, with a large, dominant building hanging over him.

"I hate it when they do that..." he muttered to himself, but the thought was soon lost when he saw the sign.

Seraph Academy, already waiting. And with the letter bunched up in his back pocket, he was ready to get started.

Razelia: The Kingdom Of Magic (FINISHED)

@PaulHaynek

Well, alright. Would’ve been good to know beforehand.

Mentioning magic and no specifics kinda leaves the impression that anything can happen, but it’s your game.

Razelia: The Kingdom Of Magic (FINISHED)

CS

Cazzio Amastael

Name: Cazzio Amastael
Race: Human

Magic and Abilities

The Astral Promise

Cazzio dedicated himself to understanding the world beyond after a chance encounter with a spirit at a young age. Unable to identify its true identity and only being offered a word in explanation was enough to convince him to tread down the path of understanding the spirit. While his research usually involved gravedigging and reading through more nefarious texts, Cazzio has managed to harness astral power as his own.
When he begins to call upon the powers he’s harnessed, blue lines ignite and trace up from his palms, around his arms, and even crossing his face. The more magic he uses, the more these bars start to lose their glow (starting from the top, going downwards)

The First Rite – Astral Flame: Cazzio calls on the bonds he’s formed with the hidden beings of shadow to create ghastly fire meant to burn through material and cause serious damage. The fire cannot pass through consecrated iron or holy symbols, but the white-blue flames become his main method of attack in most combat scenarios. The fire can be shaped or used as desired (be it defense or a number of methods of offense) and is rumored to even burn away at the soul if it consumes all else.
The flames are also significantly stronger the darker it is, and weaker in direct sunlight.
The burns sustained from his fire are rumored to never heal, but they eventually fade in a few weeks or with magical intervention.

The Second Rite – Unfinished Business: – Cazzio calls on the spirits to reach outwards with their regrets and woes. This manifests as a powerful scream that causes serious discomfort and sometimes pure fear in the eyes of his opponents as they see the images of the beyond. If the enemy is close enough, then the spirit force will repel the opponent away from him and give a little space to continue use of his other powers.

The Third Rite – Astral Baptism: – Taking the Astral Flame to the next level, Cazzio bathes himself in flame and takes on a stronger, more hellish form. His face takes on the form of a skull and his whole body starts to burn with the astral fire. While in this form, his magic slowly depletes and use of his other powers deplete his magic much faster in exchange for a boosted power. His body becomes more resilient to physical attacks, though he becomes extreme susceptible to holy symbols, consecrated iron, and magic light used in an offensive stance against him. The fire on his body does burn to the touch, and he does get an extended strength, though normally he can only maintain the form for 3-5 minutes before the fire starts to burn away at his own mortal coil. Superficial burns tend to cover his body if he pushes this form too far.

The Fourth Rite – Astral Projection: – After undergoing the Astral Baptism, Cazzio can release a spirit from himself to reach forward in an astral form either to distract, restrain, or scare. The ghost disappears when subjected to similar weaknesses, but it can hold a person down by the hands or wrists, is indistinguishable from Cazzio’s actual body in the night time, and can only communicate through cold whispers and loud screams.

The Final Rite – Last Testament: – a last-ditch effort in most situations, Cazzio wills the fire surrounding him to spread and burst outwards while allowing spirits to take him over. Cazzio immolates himself in the fire and takes his opponents with him as the astral flame bursts outwards from him and captures everyone in the area. The fire is relentless and eats away even at his own body as the ground cracks beneath his feet and the spirits of those past fly upwards to claim any that cannot resist the fire. In the process, Cazzio expends all his magic, and if he doesn’t have enough he sustains a serious amount of damage both to his body and to his soul.

Personality

”No matter how much you try to tell people they ‘can’t ignore history,’ they still try fighting with a pointy stick when a sword exists.”

Cazzio tends to be a bit of a defeatist when it comes to the path of humanity. He will talk your ear off for ages about whatever he’s been reading at the time regardless of subject matter and he’s very bad at reading the room. He’s known to spend whole battles attempting deep conversation with the opponent regardless of the intensity of the battle, and no one has really been able to figure out how to get him to start talking since the beginning of the universe.

Despite his general disappointment in people, he tends to have a deep respect for the members of the academy because of their dedication to a craft, and he isn’t shy when it comes to admitting to that admiration. As such despite how he sounds he can be quite personable and bubbly in the right situations. The fastest way to become friends with Cazzio is to ask interesting questions, especially ones he doesn’t know the answer to.

That being said, Cazzio is terrified of those in charge and those obsessed with power. He’s always expected these sorts of hierarchies to fail him, and his communion with some spirits have done little to dissuade him of this opinion. His attempts to make himself seem stronger tend to falter when faced with vicious adversaries or superiors generally have the opposite effect thanks to his usual earnestness. Even so, he hates people making assumptions about him and his abilities. His power may come with an uncomfortable reputation, but he worked hard to earn it, and those that assume he didn’t, or that it is only because of some pact that he is strong are wrong and he will be sure to let you know that.

Background

Cazzio grew up in a small village to the east of Zauberheim where he, like many young children, spent most of his days assisting with farm work, running errands for friends and family, or generally getting into hijinks. He was a very bored kid, which often got him into all kinds of trouble when he went looking for something to do.

“With all this work to be done, how’re you bored?” was a common line from his father when he was found sneaking out to the barn at night or drawing in places where he wasn’t supposed to be. Eventually, through some odd connections and the nature of a small farming town, Cazzio found his way to Lady Renaile’s doorstep.

Most people stayed away from the elderly lady that lived at the edge of the village, mainly to offer her some privacy, but most also knew her story. Supposedly she was an elven woman who used to be an accomplished sorceress in her day, but had decided in her older age to settle down in a quiet place and take some time just to relax. As such, she was one of the few people in town with a collection of books from her journey of adventures, and many other magical items that would require quite an explanation.

Through Cazzio, the pair struck up a curious relationship. She found a boy desperate for knowledge, for any way of getting out of this boring situation, so she taught him how to read. It started with simple fiction and old textbooks stored away, but eventually she started to gain a bit of intuition on the boy and realized that there was potential there for a magical gift. She put it to the test with an ancient tome that once belonged to quite the powerful mage, and through the boy’s studies of the tome his whole perspective started to change.

He witnessed his first ghost in his own barn one night. He had taken the book home as he normally would to seek through the pages, and through a flash of blue light suddenly he was seeing the world differently. In fact, he witnessed an old spirit appear right in the middle of his barn that night – an old man with a long beard and a bald head. It was what the tome had described as First Contact, and through this contact his powers caught a spark and never faded away. The blue lines traced up his body in spirals and sigils, his eyes changed from a deep brown to an icy blue, and with the help of Renaile and the spirit he trained enough to access his First Rite.

The town started to grow weary of the “cursed boy” as they called him. His parents grew hesitant around him, and he paid them little mind as he continued to pursue his studies. He was only discovered by the Seraph Academy when one of the merchants had travelled through to the big city, bringing with him the rumors of the Haunted Farm Boy.

They came for him first, inviting him to come with them to the academy right away, but Renaile denied them the first time, saying that he would only come to the school when he was ready. And three years later, with her blessing, he left on his own pilgrimage to the walled city, set to acquire more knowledge about not only magic, but society in general.

Other:

Astral Baptism Form

sample

Cazzio took a deep breath as his dirtied boots met cobblestone instead of dirt and he stepped into the capital. Already the boy's eyes were alight with wonder as he tugged at the small bag wrapped around his back and wandered forward. Already he knew that Renaile wasn't lying when she had told him about this place.

The city was huge. Bigger than huge. Even as he dodged a crowd of muttering citizens (many of whom with features he'd never seen on a person) he finally felt a little comfort in letting down his hood. It became clear that the markings that accompanied his magic power would do little to help him stand out, especially when he witnessed a woman grin at a corner as the poles she juggled shimmered and shifted without regret.

Maybe... she would know?

"Uhm, Excuse me, Ma'am," Cazzio called, doing little to hide the commoner's accent that had grown up as his own, "D'you think you could direct me to the Seraph Academy?"

The woman looked down at him for a moment, and without moving her hands the juggling poles hung in the air, the glittering points all pointed in one direction as the small crowd gathering let out a little applause. With a nod, and a drop of the last of his coins into the tin plate at her feet he made his way off in that direction.

With a nose in a book for most of his upbringing, his sense of direction was perhaps not the best. As a straight direction turned into one alley and then the next, he was prepared to turn around and start all over again when a familiar sound rushed by his ear, followed by the cold touch of a unique force.

He snapped his fingers, and in a moment his eyes were alight with his astral fire. Sure enough, floating at the corner of the hallway was an glowing, translucent dog staring back at him with its hollow eyes. Cazzio thought he'd been able to ignore things like this, but perhaps the crowds and the new experience that was the city was enough of a distraction to let his guard down. Other than warn him of its presence, however, the dog did little.

"You wouldn't know how to get to the Academy, would ya?"

The dog vanished in a flash of bluish flame, and the bright light forced Cazzio to shield his eyes. Only a moment later did they open, and in doing so he found himself standing in the middle of an intersection, with a large, dominant building hanging over him.

"I hate it when they do that..." he muttered to himself, but the thought was soon lost when he saw the sign.

Seraph Academy, already waiting. And with the letter bunched up in his back pocket, he was ready to get started.

Razelia: The Kingdom Of Magic

So, I see that there is still an emphasis on weapons and things, but will straight sorcery still be an option?

I'm super interested in some magical nonsense though so I'm in.

Your Friendly Neighborhood Government Sanctioned Superheroes

Show Off

Yay Training? @Delta44@ShwiggityShwah

---

Edith’s door shut with a firm thud as Tom was left to stand in the hallway, and his system fans shuddered in the closest thing to a deep breath he could take. Carefully he felt motors in his body whir and the pieces begin to fall back into their place with a gentle use of his power to assure that everything was working. The perks of his body were many, but the extremely malleable metal sometimes made it difficult for Tom to understand whether his body was in the precise order he wanted it to be, or if that initial form had been lost over the past couple centuries.

No steel off his back, anyway. He may have been “created” by someone, but his existence was his own now, and he’d rather be melted down into chrome from some flashy car than admit that he owed something to the person that created him in that period before sentience. Tom tilted his head away from the residential space and started to march his way down towards some of the more common areas. He had no need for sleep or sustenance, so better to at least try and be semi-productive, or find a decent classic to dive into. Edith had bought him a couple works by Asimov once as a gag, but he couldn’t help but find the man’s thoughts intriguing at least, though his thoughts on the Laws of Robotics were not something that he cared for.

As he walked past one of the training areas and heard the sound of metal clanking against some other force, he thought that perhaps there were some machines that would benefit from those laws. Tom didn’t really want to entertain any of the organics that inhabited this building, but when a few screws and bolts shot out from the gym like tiny bullets, he knew he wanted to see at least what was going on.

Sure enough, it seemed that some weren’t satisfied after their day of killing mechanic monstrosities. He heard Phoenix Dawn before he saw him, but stepping into the room Tom bumped into a new figure. A dark-haired woman who was not familiar to him. It wasn’t too surprising – New Horizon dragged in new “recruits” all time, but Tom liked to stay on top of things. Made it easier to identify threats. And eyeing how the two guards at the door were looking at her and the shining bracelets on her wrists, this was likely a person he would need to learn about.

“Machine training?” he mused, “Clearly your unique abilities carry some weight. I was not informed that our tower was being introduced to more organics.”

“Easy, Foundry,” one of the guards spoke up, their concerned glares meeting his glowing face-plate, “No need to grill Decibel. We have it under control.”

The glowing orange lines on his face dimmed in dissatisfaction as he took in the space. There was the nauseous girl in front of him, Dawn standing in the room with his usual bravado that never ceased to irritate Tom, and the shattered machine on the ground. He knew he made the guards uncomfortable because they couldn’t dampen him, and only a few key people held his personal self-destruct button.

He sighed, “Well, at least let me clean up this mess. I’m bored and unlike your pathetic bodies I don’t need to worry about exhaustion.”

He stepped carefully around Eliott, trying not to touch her as he stepped into the training space. His sockets and mechanics started to pop and whirl as he copied the motion of cracking his neck. Then the orange energy surging from his core changed to a familiar green.

The machine corpse on the ground was brought up to its feet, as metal bits that were flown around the room coalesced into the machine. Pieces and parts started to pin and spiral into each other as screws and bolts readjusted and body parts reoriented themselves as the practice machine was standing on its feet once more with lights starting to blink on again as it reset itself in an idle position. The moment it was standing his glowing green went back to orange as a couple trails of steam trailed away from his core in an attempt to let off some heat.

With that, he addressed Phoenix:

“Honestly, Musclehead, what use is it for you to break these toys if they don’t make a difference in your performance? Should you not be working on covering your flaws instead of showing off?”

If Tom was being honest, he knew he was missing some points. He knew that the girl leaving was probably doing so because of some mistake made in training that affected her fragile squishy organs, but he loathed these massive ego types and would take any chance to make a jab.

Even if the two guards behind him were already staring him down like wolves on the prowl.

Your Friendly Neighborhood Government Sanctioned Superheroes

MISSION STATUS: Oops?

Debrief w/ @RedXCross & @Write

---

“Alright, I get it. You’re tough, you’re loyal, you have a whole group of organics that are counting on you to keep your mouth shut and your weapons away from the… good guys.”

Despite his best effort, Tom choked on the words. Alas, morality remained a sucker’s game in this world, and it became difficult to discern for what reason he was really putting this man through so much pain.

Small pins of his super metal filament danced on the surface of the man’s pale skin. His eyes were burrowed deep into his skull as exhaustion started to catch up to them. How long had this interrogation been going on? Tom lost track. His only mark of time was when Edith left for food or for sleep or for those god-awful gaudy films with the catchy tunes. Lacking all of those things, Tom wasn’t entirely sure how long he’d been staring at this man in the cellar. Watching him cry as his fillings were pulled slowly from his jaw millimeter by millimeter, or how his tiny pins who push straight into the man close enough to the most painful places just to see how he would react.

As usual, even away from the Tower, Tom found himself slipping into New Horizon-brand boredom.

And that was a brand that made his skin itch.

“Still have anything to say? Your gang’s access to those dangerous, experimental weapons still mean this much to you?”

In an instant, the glowing marks on Tom’s chest and face flashed a sickly green, and the floating pins centered in front of the man’s eyes, coalescing together into two large, sharp needles as small clamps emerged from its sides to peel the man’s eyes open.

The man was practically chewing through his gag.

Edith yawned, using the opening to stuff half a hotdog into her mouth, wiping her tired eyes with her sleeve. Tom got kind of riled up when people threatened to crease his suit by making him stay in one place too long. But you know, mondays.

She chewed slowly, examining the man for any signs of an opening. One would think that his horrified expression was a great chance to break through, be the good guy. But he wasn’t done cooking. He needed to simmer in that fear for a moment, to allow for the truth to boil to the top. It wouldn’t be worth interrupting Tom while he was busy at work, instead she had to wait for when this man knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that they would kill him if he was lying.

Until then, she poured a bit of extra mustard on her hotdog, eyes still trained on the man. They had been hard at work for the past little while now, to the point where Edith was even starting to forget what her old dorm looked like. She had a crappy memory, but still. It was the idea that counted, she was tired of ‘duty’ this, ‘saving people’ that.

Where was the all-out war? Where were the cameras? Where were the flash dancing mobs meant to express the genuine emotion of teen love?

Edith sighed audibly as the man struggled against his restraints. She placed a warm hand against the cool concrete, balancing the remaining half-hotdog on the palm of her other hand. She felt her hand slip into the concrete, it was always a strange sensation. Sometimes it was cool, sometimes it was almost painfully hot, but it was certainly unique. She retracted her hand from the concrete, grasping a perfectly smooth handle with it. As it was pulled out the concrete dipped around her creation.

It looked off-somewhat, it was half of a polearm - it wouldn’t do in battle, but it could gut a rat.

“Please.” She said quietly, after swallowing the last remaining portion of her hotdog. She pushed the polearm in between the man’s ribs, dipping it in until she felt the rising and falling of his left lung. She was supposed to be the good cop.

But. Come. On.

“Pretty,” she gently pushed the polearm in ever-so-slightly and felt it begin to puncture his skin. “Please.”

He writhed. Desperation shook from him like a faulty sprinkler as he tugged and struggled and moved against every force and restraint for a moment. And just when it looked like they’d have to go through with it, his teeth ripped through the gag.

“ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! I’LL TALK I SWEAR TO GOD JUST STOP, PLEASE!!”

Finally, progress.

Tom stepped forward. His leather shoes did little to hide the heavy thud of his heavy feet against the warehouse’s concrete floor as the floating needles rushed back into him. They appeared to impale him through the chest before being absorbed back into his body like rain on a lake.

“Excellent. I won’t lie and say i try to to avoid cliches, so, ‘the truth will set you free.’”He rubbed at the glowing circle on his face with his fingers before he carefully pulled his jacket away and tucked it gently over the back of a chair that he pulled over.

“JERICHO’s weapon plans. I want the details, I want the location, I want the people involved. You have five minutes.” His head swung back to Edith, “Oh, one of us should take notes or something, right? I can’t remember…”

Then the man started babbling. He wasn’t your typical “I’m a master of all knowledge” AI, but he at least had the superior processors to keep up with what the man was saying.

There was one problem though.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

“Huh?”

“The name of the leader. What was it again?”

He mumbled it under his breath, so Tom proded. He slapped the man with his back hand, and pricks of blood burst from his cheek. The man barely noticed the tiny spikes on the backs of his fingers starting to retreat back into his hand.

And… oh God the man was crying again.

Tom didn’t get it. Usually he revelled in watching a man become a pathetic puddle of refuse - but this was just so boring. Fucking Humans. They claimed they were so “adaptable” and whatever - but a couple pricks were enough to bring this man to tears.

“I just want clarification. You mentioned the leader’s name, but it can’t be him. He died … how many days ago?”

He turned to Edith for clarification.

“16 days, 12 hours, 32 minutes and… Some seconds ago.”

“Thank you. Well?”

The man paled, “b-but… he can’t. He was the one that…”

“So what you’re telling me,” Tom stood up, and with a flash of green light every bit of metal in the room lifted for a second before clattering into the ground a moment later, “is that you have No New Information to benefit our investigation?”

“Please… I didn’t… he was the one who told me… to take them to the location…”

Tom groaned. He heard the man scream as another pair of metal teeth dropped to the floor from Tom’s careless tug with his power.

“So a new leader was appointed quick enough that the infrastructure… unbelievable.”

He shared a wordless, dissatisfied glance with Edith (he may not of had eyes or facial expressions but she always understood) before he felt his internal systems sigh and shudder.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr…” he paused, looked up. The man was keeled over, his skin papery white and all-too fragile looking, “Remind me your name again?”

No response.

“Ah, well… huh.”

Tom snapped his fingers. A few dots of the super metal that had scattered across the room zoomed back into his body, one of them knocking the man’s chair over upon return, “Oops.”

“Carnegie.” Edith said, mostly to Tom, but also as a kind of veiled threat. She knew who he was. She knelt down onto the floor so she was closer to his eye level and stared at him, her neon blue eyes observing his every twitch. He was pulling away like a scared animal, attempting to create distance between the two of them, even though it wasn’t really possible with all of his restraints and the chair keeping him in an awkward position.

She leaned back and eventually fell onto her butt so she could cross her legs, poking him with her concrete spear every once in a while to reinforce the mood. They didn’t have candles, or satin sheets - so the concrete spear would do for now.

While he muttered a few things, Edith simply watched, no real expression past boredom reaching her facial expression for about a minute. Tom seemed to be holding back, he knew how she operated at this point. So when the dove-haired girl turned back to her partner with a quizzical glance he knew she was asking permission to try something.

“Be my guest.” He leaned forward.

Edith nodded innocently and turned back to their victim with a warm smile. “Okay,” she has been speaking in approximately two word bursts for the past four days, but she was going to try and spice things up to get them back ‘home’. “I am going to help you understand something, so that this goes as well as it can for you.” Her smile was warm, almost mortherly, but the polearm rested completely still on the base of his chin.

“There is only one way you’re going to leave here, ever.” She said, her eyes never faltering from examining him. He seemed like he was going to cry again for a second, so Edith spoke up once more. “But, if you were listening - that means there is one way you could end up leaving here.” She said, with her robotic eyes staring, unblinking at the man. His eyes opened a little, and for the first time, he breathed without that god-awful sniffling. The man had been sniffling for days. It was unbearable. A breath without any obstructions might as well have been the heavenly pipes of Mr. Zuko himself.

Edith beamed at him and nodded. “So just tell my friend what you know and we can get moving, mmkay?”

---

“And then he died.”

“Tom.”

“I really don’t think i have to explain more than that,” Tom leaned back against the wall, already frustrated with damn grey jumpsuits forced upon him by the accursed Tower, “We got the information you wanted, then he died of unusual circumstances.”

“You were given explicit orders not to kill-”

“And neither of us purposefully murdered him, or both of us would be husks with our heads blown off on the floor of that same warehouse.”

Their handler leaned back in his leather seat. Tom knew… very little about him, and he really didn’t care to find out more. The man handed them their missions mostly because they tested poorly in the public eye, so better to put both him and Edith behind the scenes.

Which was unfortunate, really. At least Edith could be personable if given some kind of chance.

“Just one time,” he shook his head, “If you could just play by the book one time.”

“Oh yes, we should always take this totally flawless book without a single loophole to heart-”

“If you have problems with the guidelines, why not take it up top?”

Tom let out an audible groan. You could almost hear his inner workings grit and grind at the man’s meaningless squabbling.

“Look, venting is technically not disallowed in terms of following guidelines, you know that,” Tom stated, “and you couldn’t really accuse us of displaying rebellious behaviour because who else would you get to do this gritty, ugly stuff. The fact I’m still standing here and not in the recycling bin means that you know we are a low flight risk. Try getting that… Griffin Twilight or whatever the fuck -”

“Phoenix Dawn-”

“Right, right. Try getting him to do what we do.”

The same conversation was held so many times with only slight variations Tom could’ve sworn he was talking to a wall. He had a stack of books waiting that he could be wasting his time in right now. They let a criminal die, so what. Horizon wanted all the grit out of the system anyway. There’s more than one way to remove a pest.

“All that being said, what kind of ship do you run here? There’s some man attacking a city with metal animals and we arrive four hours after its been done? Tsk, tsk. We’re wasting far too many resources.”

Tom walked over to Edith’s chair, leaning over top of her with a heavy drooping, even though most of his weight was still on his legs. If he actually let go it’d probably crush someone squishy. Mostly he was revelling in the shades of red on the man’s face.

It reminded him of the time someone asked him to get a drink, assuming he was some android bartender. The sheer frustration the man had when Tom proceeded to insult his lesser fashion sense. It was a tiny amount of rebellion. Just enough to keep Tom ticking and to keep Horizon off his ass.

Being a machine already got him out of mandated therapy sessions because they assumed he had no personality to alter. A bold assumption, and it was the only time he’d be grateful
for such a thing.

“Alright. You got the information we needed, even at the cost of a potential future informant’s life. What’s this about you going into one of the weapon factories even though there was no more evidence to be found?”

Every decision scrutinized. Humans were infuriating.

“We wanted to double check. The danger was worth the risk. We found more of the rare metal i was made of. Whatever gets the paperwork done. You’ve raked me over the coals, so throw Edith on the pan already so we can get out of here.” The faintest tinge of green touched his orange energy, and his body rippled with the power.

“Do you have anything to add, Ms. Elwood?” He said turning his gaze to his second biggest pain in the ass.

“Mmm…” She thought for a moment biting her lip in a feigned bit of actually thinking back. Instead Edith was thinking about movie night. It was obviously going to happen, it had to. But what movie? There were so many classics to pick from it was almost too difficult, “No.”

“Of course not, what was I supposed to expect, cooperation?” Their handler groaned into his hands.

“No.” Edith said again, nearly a hint of playful wit could be detected on her voice, but for the most part she was as robotic as ever, not like her illuminated partner. Her handler was something of a conundrum, even to her. She was fairly analytical, and she had maintained a habit of pouring over old footage of her days when she had down time. But his mannerisms were all so fairly… Generic.

He was just a man who was tired and wanted an easier job. But also wanted to make an impact, that was Edith’s reading anyway. Horizon was a funny place to go about making an impact, surely it would be felt but not in a way amicable to the masses generally.

Still, at the mention of robot animals that both herself and Tom had just barely missed she lamented the extra four hours they had spent in their mission. She groaned and let one hand silently pet Tom’s head as if he was a house cat. His temperament was somewhat similar, he liked his coat to look nice and he may have enjoyed being pet but he wasn’t about to share that detail with anyone.

Edith just wanted to lay down, go see those she had grown… Well perhaps close is too much, but she lived near some of these people and some of them even partook in her nightly raids into the past of sung narrative.

“Fine. You got the info, as always this mission is just passable.” The handler said, still not lifting his head from his hands.

“Mhm.” Edith said, immediately getting out of her seat and facing Tom with as enthusiastic a face the exhausted girl could muster. “Sleep now.” She considered jumping onto her friend’s back, so that he could carry her like a backpack to her room since her legs were kind of tired. But also she wanted to wake up tomorrow and keep this friendship alive, so she didn’t do that.

She knew how much that suit meant to Tom and since they had only just arrived back at the tower he hadn’t put on that horrendous jumpsuit he hated so much. One day she’d help him find a loophole that allowed him to wear his suit.

One day, Horizon. That’ll show ‘em.

Tom glared back at Edith. As usual, he lamented her need for things like sleep and dreaded what was to come when the rose a few floors, stepped out of the restricted area, and somehow reintegrated into the disaster pack of heroes upstairs.

“Oh, and one more thing -”

“Get the hell out of my office. Both of you.”

Tom raised his hands defensively, but with a look to his side, he spun around on his heels and headed out of the room. The heavy door swung shut behind them, and they were left with their usual walk down to the hallway.

“I actually think we were done faster than usual. I think we were only in there for thirty minutes this time.” Tom started with a humorous tone.

“He seems stressed,” Edith sighed.

Tom gave a brief nod, not really in understanding him, more in understanding how Edith was feeling. His hand found the elevator easy enough as the chip confirmed his identity before releasing them from the higher level clearance area before keeping the elevator door open.

“Regardless we’re going to be passing through some of the main living areas on the way to our rooms,” Tom explained more to himself than anyone. “If we’re lucky we won’t run into anyone. I’ve had my fill of ‘good people’ for today.”

A smile crept onto Edith’s lips as Tom’s hand found the elevator. Initially it had only been a biometric scanner and Tom had taken out his frustration with the yesteryear technology on some poor lackey, announcing the specism of Horizon for all to hear. It was when Edith knew they’d be killing people together one day.

Ahhh.

She nodded at Tom’s suggestion. She was perhaps on better terms with ‘good people’ if only because she didn’t vocalize her anger with them as much as Tom did - but he was right. She didn’t want to have to go through the ‘hi, how are yous’ of being a good person. It was draining.

“If anyone tries to talk to me I might kill them.” She said in her and Tom’s usual macabre humour.

“At least let me watch. Who knows - maybe rusty dried blood is the fall colour this season.” Tom droled as the elevator came to a halt.

The doors swung open, and they were home again, but Tom was already fantasizing about an underground casino forty years ago and a pair of nines sitting in his hand to bring him that full house.

He turned to Edith - his unusual companion, his one reassurance that waking up twenty years ago hadn’t been a mistake as he refreshed his repertoire of witty comebacks and made his way down the hall.

“Alright, I guess I’ll distract whatever organic comes so you can slink off to bed and start dreaming about less garish weapons to turn my body into,” the lights on his face flickered playfully, ”That sword was absolutely gaudy and you know it.”

Edith immediately took the window of opportunity to slink off and collapse but turned back to her robotic partner. “It was absolutely garish and you loved it.” She said with a small wink before using the entirety of her body weight to force her door open and immediately collapse happily onto the floor of her room.

Ah, sweet carpet at last.

Your Friendly Neighborhood Government Sanctioned Superheroes

Foundry

Name: Model-45, or "Tom"
Alias: Foundry
Age: 215, Was last rebooted 22 years ago
Gender: Indeterminate (he/him)
Species: Machine
Precautions: Unique Chip - Electromagnetic Pulse

Personality:
Tom is arrogant, callous, skeptical, and a serious cynic with a sarcastic streak a mile wide. Generally, he is in acceptance of principles that are beyond his control because what sense would it be for this single individual to rise against a single, dangerous organization? He hates being compared to inanimate objects and is quite proud of his sentience. As such, the control placed on him by the organization grates uncomfortably against his skin even though he won’t try anything stupid to get out of it. Regardless, treating people with respect is beneath him. He will gladly correct people who address him incorrectly and cares little for those beyond those he’s deemed worthy of his “affection”, though that word should be used loosely at best.

However, he’s surprisingly honest and trustworthy at least to those same people. Not a vicious AI or a droning, menial machine – he’s cultivated a personality akin to a stereotypical aristocrat despite his position. Regardless, the cunning machine knows how to use people’s perceptions to weave through most uncomfortable situations and treats himself like a human for the most part, though he looks down on things like ‘eating’ or ‘sleeping’, he has a surprisingly embarrassed reaction to being seen without wearing clothing. He tends to try his best to stay out of combat in most situations or at least to the back of a situation where he can keep things under control and keep a head above the rest. He has a high sense of dignity and does what he can to preserve that in most situations, even as he builds his plans behind the scenes.

Likes: Fashion, Gambling, Old Literature, Awful Music

Dislikes: Arrogance (in others), Jumpsuits, Sitcoms, Subservience

Abilities:

Metallokinesis – the ability to manipulate and psychically maneuver any type of metal for a number of purposes. Be it bending metal into multiple shapes or stopping flying bullets. The extent to which he can manipulate metal depends on its malleability, weight, and other physical factors, but usually, it is made without difficulty. With a body like his made of a unique metallic alloy with a high malleability – the metal can bend almost close to water or clay and comes with a variety of defensive uses.

Body Mod – thanks to the flexibility of the super metal he was created from, he can flip around his proportions, making some things larger or smaller or harder, or he can even cause spikes to emerge from his metal body if needed. He tends to prefer keeping the hard yet flexible metal near his person at all times if possible – it’s very hard to get back, even if he can use his metallic power to return it to him like a big magnet. He can also break down the same metal and add it to his mass permanently, but the super metal is so rare at this point that gaining that material is more of a pipe dream than anything else.

Appearance:

With a sleek, dark metal skin, his anatomy on the outside is no different from a human’s albeit slightly colder to the touch at least on his limbs and extremities. Orange energy surges through certain canals around his chest to vent the large amount of power required from him. Similar, small vents sit around his neck area, but the glowing mark on his face can blink and change to demonstrate mood or thought.

He stands about 6’9” and weighs roughly 250 lbs all things considered. He is made of an impressive super metal that is light and almost fluid, making it easy for his internal systems to replicate similar movements of a human body. Serious damage to his chest or head will be enough to incapacitate him and cause serious damage to internal cores that will take a serious amount of time to repair if repair is possible. There is a scratched out serial number on the back of his neck that doesn’t move regardless of how much his power allows him to alter his body – though it is still questionable as to why it is still there.

History:

Model-45 was the last attempt at a suitable android model capable of a number of services, though meant to be sold both for its abilities as a personal servant and body guard, but this model was made with a few mistakes. For one, its security upon development was easily hacked and manipulated by a hostile AI program created way back in the day, and two, it had become suspect of a suspicious energy or radiation a couple days after its creation. It was initially shut down due to it being a liability after it was seen tearing apart a machine of a similar make and model.

Shutting it down, however, only delayed what was already happening within its mechanical brain. The updating security compromised the hostile AI, and both programs were altered by this strange radiation, causing another significant glitch in the machine’s construction. One that would not be discovered until a terrorist cell brought him online 50 years later. He was upgraded with a sleek new shell and some other mechanical parts, though the curious (or mad) engineer left his programming alone due to its unique qualities. The expectation was that the use of this new super metal would allow them to turn this body into a true weapon of mass destruction, but they ran into some unexpected surprises upon his reboot sequence. One: he appeared to have personality – refusing the direct order of the people that wanted to use him as a weapon and declaring them “beneath him”. Two: he gained a strange super power that let him take his metallic form and turn it into a weapon against them.

Tom was left with a large amount of freedom he didn’t know what to do with and a strange new way of viewing the world around him that was against any programmed protocol. Not requiring food or sleep (and being mostly solar powered with an incredibly high-voltage battery) meant he was kind of free to do as he liked, even if it was from a quieter disposition. He became great at stopping villains for the right price and heading to casinos for only a day or two at a time where his superior intellect allowed him to analyze probability in his favor, he started to make a good amount of money for himself until a grievous injury left him with a need to repair. He retreated to the old workshop, where he could find tools to repair his body, but he would need to be shut down for the process.

That led to another long period of rest that culminated 22 years ago. Once more he awoke and attempted to take the roguish lifestyle of years past, only to find that there were obstacles in his way. The biggest obstacle was the fact that he seemed to possess a unique ability that was not directly connected to his mechanical body. It didn’t take too long to be taken in by the New Horizon, where his pride essentially led to him being treated the same as other superpowered vagrants taken in, especially because both the super metal he was made of and the intuitiveness of his design made him too valuable to scrap. They were pleased to learn that his survival instinct seemed to have grown from years past, and that fitting him with a chip made him just as pliant as everyone else, even if he was fairly vocal about how much he loathed the situation (they didn’t think a robot could get as angry as he did when he was told he couldn’t wear his suit within the Tower).

Along the way, he met Edith and became close to her mostly due to a similar demeanor and a symbiotic partnership. Edith, being mostly unaffected by his snide personality, quickly became a partner he counted on to be of assistance when the situation called for it.

Notes:
No, just because he's a robot doesn't mean he can hack into systems and things. His body does not have the interfacing for that.

Your Friendly Neighborhood Government Sanctioned Superheroes

Hello, here is the character with whom I'm applying. I thank you for the consideration and hopefully look forward to jumping in!

Foundry

Name: Model-45, or "Tom"
Alias: Foundry
Age: 215, Was last rebooted 22 years ago
Gender: Indeterminate (he/him)
Species: Machine
Precautions: Unique Chip - Electromagnetic Pulse

Personality:
Tom is arrogant, callous, skeptical, and a serious cynic with a sarcastic streak a mile wide. Generally, he is in acceptance of principles that are beyond his control because what sense would it be for this single individual to rise against a single, dangerous organization? He hates being compared to inanimate objects and is quite proud of his sentience. As such, the control placed on him by the organization grates uncomfortably against his skin even though he won’t try anything stupid to get out of it. Regardless, treating people with respect is beneath him. He will gladly correct people who address him incorrectly and cares little for those beyond those he’s deemed worthy of his “affection”, though that word should be used loosely at best.

However, he’s surprisingly honest and trustworthy at least to those same people. Not a vicious AI or a droning, menial machine – he’s cultivated a personality akin to a stereotypical aristocrat despite his position. Regardless, the cunning machine knows how to use people’s perceptions to weave through most uncomfortable situations and treats himself like a human for the most part, though he looks down on things like ‘eating’ or ‘sleeping’, he has a surprisingly embarrassed reaction to being seen without wearing clothing. He tends to try his best to stay out of combat in most situations or at least to the back of a situation where he can keep things under control and keep a head above the rest. He has a high sense of dignity and does what he can to preserve that in most situations, even as he builds his plans behind the scenes.

Likes: Fashion, Gambling, Old Literature, Awful Music

Dislikes: Arrogance (in others), Jumpsuits, Sitcoms, Subservience

Abilities:

Metallokinesis – the ability to manipulate and psychically maneuver any type of metal for a number of purposes. Be it bending metal into multiple shapes or stopping flying bullets. The extent to which he can manipulate metal depends on its malleability, weight, and other physical factors, but usually, it is made without difficulty. With a body like his made of a unique metallic alloy with a high malleability – the metal can bend almost close to water or clay and comes with a variety of defensive uses.

Body Mod – thanks to the flexibility of the super metal he was created from, he can flip around his proportions, making some things larger or smaller or harder, or he can even cause spikes to emerge from his metal body if needed. He tends to prefer keeping the hard yet flexible metal near his person at all times if possible – it’s very hard to get back, even if he can use his metallic power to return it to him like a big magnet. He can also break down the same metal and add it to his mass permanently, but the super metal is so rare at this point that gaining that material is more of a pipe dream than anything else.

Appearance:

With a sleek, dark metal skin, his anatomy on the outside is no different from a human’s albeit slightly colder to the touch at least on his limbs and extremities. Orange energy surges through certain canals around his chest to vent the large amount of power required from him. Similar, small vents sit around his neck area, but the glowing mark on his face can blink and change to demonstrate mood or thought.

He stands about 6’9” and weighs roughly 250 lbs all things considered. He is made of an impressive super metal that is light and almost fluid, making it easy for his internal systems to replicate similar movements of a human body. Serious damage to his chest or head will be enough to incapacitate him and cause serious damage to internal cores that will take a serious amount of time to repair if repair is possible. There is a scratched out serial number on the back of his neck that doesn’t move regardless of how much his power allows him to alter his body – though it is still questionable as to why it is still there.

History:

Model-45 was the last attempt at a suitable android model capable of a number of services, though meant to be sold both for its abilities as a personal servant and body guard, but this model was made with a few mistakes. For one, its security upon development was easily hacked and manipulated by a hostile AI program created way back in the day, and two, it had become suspect of a suspicious energy or radiation a couple days after its creation. It was initially shut down due to it being a liability after it was seen tearing apart a machine of a similar make and model.

Shutting it down, however, only delayed what was already happening within its mechanical brain. The updating security compromised the hostile AI, and both programs were altered by this strange radiation, causing another significant glitch in the machine’s construction. One that would not be discovered until a terrorist cell brought him online 50 years later. He was upgraded with a sleek new shell and some other mechanical parts, though the curious (or mad) engineer left his programming alone due to its unique qualities. The expectation was that the use of this new super metal would allow them to turn this body into a true weapon of mass destruction, but they ran into some unexpected surprises upon his reboot sequence. One: he appeared to have personality – refusing the direct order of the people that wanted to use him as a weapon and declaring them “beneath him”. Two: he gained a strange super power that let him take his metallic form and turn it into a weapon against them.

Tom was left with a large amount of freedom he didn’t know what to do with and a strange new way of viewing the world around him that was against any programmed protocol. Not requiring food or sleep (and being mostly solar powered with an incredibly high-voltage battery) meant he was kind of free to do as he liked, even if it was from a quieter disposition. He became great at stopping villains for the right price and heading to casinos for only a day or two at a time where his superior intellect allowed him to analyze probability in his favor, he started to make a good amount of money for himself until a grievous injury left him with a need to repair. He retreated to the old workshop, where he could find tools to repair his body, but he would need to be shut down for the process.

That led to another long period of rest that culminated 22 years ago. Once more he awoke and attempted to take the roguish lifestyle of years past, only to find that there were obstacles in his way. The biggest obstacle was the fact that he seemed to possess a unique ability that was not directly connected to his mechanical body. It didn’t take too long to be taken in by the New Horizon, where his pride essentially led to him being treated the same as other superpowered vagrants taken in, especially because both the super metal he was made of and the intuitiveness of his design made him too valuable to scrap. They were pleased to learn that his survival instinct seemed to have grown from years past, and that fitting him with a chip made him just as pliant as everyone else, even if he was fairly vocal about how much he loathed the situation (they didn’t think a robot could get as angry as he did when he was told he couldn’t wear his suit within the Tower).

Along the way, he met Edith and became close to her mostly due to a similar demeanor and a symbiotic partnership. Edith, being mostly unaffected by his snide personality, quickly became a partner he counted on to be of assistance when the situation called for it.

Notes:
No, just because he's a robot doesn't mean he can hack into systems and things. His body does not have the interfacing for that.

Spellweavers (Harry Potter Inspired)

Excellent. Excited for this.

Alternatively I’d like to argue that Snape’s spells may have already existed seeing as Lupin mentions that it was a spell that was very popular during his time and school and it simply went out of style after a while, but that’s neither here nor there.

I do love the idea of the creation of spells. Definitely something to explore. Anyway, I’ll put up a CS in a little while. Please bare with me a little bit as it is pretty busy right now. I’ll act as fast as I can, all I ask in return is a little patience!

Thanks for the interest, everyone!

Spellweavers (Harry Potter Inspired)

Literally an interest check at this point, but how would someone feel about a new/unknown branch of the Ministry of Magic dedicated to the discovery and creation of new spells and words that could change the potential of the magical world?

I was thinking a modern setting, so maybe the discovery of spells in alien or eldritch languages, learning to combine magic with technology, or various other situations related to this one.

The tone would be comedic/humorous with maybe an episodic flow - think like an ensemble cast that goes to different locations so they could learn to create new spells and the ridiculous adventures that move along the way, but it could be twisted around as you feel. It's a cool hole to fill I think in the HP-related universe, but I wouldn't want this to depend super-heavily on deep lore. Just a general knowledge of the main books/movies would be fine.

Any thoughts?