Saffron had spent the better part of her night reading up on the medical benefits of the organic resources in her new surroundings, and it was well past midnight when she'd even began to consider hitting the hay (literally). Uncomfortable with dogpile-esque arrangement in the barn and her proximity to the livestock, she'd slept 4 hours tops before the commotion began.
At first, it had only been one or two persons and that insufferable hammering, and she'd grumbled and rolled over, but now those two persons were a commotion of conversations and working.
When she sat up, the vertebrae of her spine popped in crescendo, and her hands clumsily dragged at the corners of her eyes. Her face and legs were numb--heck, everything was numb--she more or less tripped out of the barn. She retrieved her cane where she'd left it at the door the night prior and glanced around.
Most of the pack was already getting on various assignments or involved in little conversations, and she felt at a loss. Giving a soft sigh through her nose, she began hobbling towards the diner, where she'd seen Niall enter moments before. It wouldn't feel as imperative if she asked what he'd like her to do, she supposed--those resource books were mind-numbingly bland, anyways.
She didn't notice the notepad that slipped out of her back pocket as she walked, and it lay in the dirt waiting for someone or something to trample it.
1.) I'm disgusting. 2.) I make a mess out of everything. 3.) I always get caught.
Name: Mortimer Toynbee – “Toad” Age: 19 Gender: Male Universe: Marvel Earth-8096 (Wolverine & the X-Men)
Personality: If he had gotten the chance to graduate high school, he would've been voted “Most Likely to Hide Under a Chair During Combat” in the yearbook, but he hadn't gotten the chance, so...what could have been wasn't. He does, however, hide under chairs frequently; chairs, desks, beds, inside the pantry, behind a teammate—anyplace available, really. Mort's a nervous, subservient, cowardly, but loyal and sweet-hearted young man who looks like a frog got freaky with Danny Pudi. He has a habit of faking confidence if he thinks he has allies who'll back him up when he's in trouble, namely the Brotherhood, and spends his time hating himself for the stupid things he says later on. So, tl/dr: anxiety-ridden, submissive, not-so-brave, loyal, self-conscious, nice, and a wreck.
Bio: Mort was born in Chicago and was heavily mistreated by his father for his mutated appearance and diminutive personality. When he was fourteen he ran from home, leading him to a life on the streets where he turned boot-licking into an artform and did many a thing for money he's not comfortable reliving. At seventeen he was recruited into the Brotherhood of Mutants, a small terrorist organization, by Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver). Having no prior combat experience outside of small scraps over money, he didn't do well; his employment as a terrorist culminated in one too many captures by the MRD. Pietro let him go a few months ago (left him in the MRD facilities to rot), and after escaping with a plethora of other mutants, has been sleeping in an abandoned warehouse since. Hoping to get the ball of life rolling, he snuck onto that damn S.P.R.E.A.D. Shuttle and now life's rolling for sure. He doesn't really know what's going on but it scares him and he's not happy with this arrangement.
Equipment:
Feet && Shin Guards
Satchel
Sketchpad
Wallet w/ Fake ID & $43:25
2 dark chocolate bars and a bag of Doritos
Small Utility Belt
Pocket knife
Pack of Cigarettes 17/20
Lighter
Cellphone (no service)
Lockpick set
Pencil
Powers and Skills:
Mutations –
10' long prehensile tongue capable of lifting a half-ton (give or take)
Mucus Secretions – He has superspit. I kid you not. There's three variations of it; adhesive, fast-drying, and venemous, though he's never used the latter, and if he licks his hands he's capable of wallcrawling.
Super-strength – His legs are specifically talented, putting it within his range of abilities to dent a sheet of steel or collapse someone's ribcage with a well placed kick. He can leg press upwards of two and a half tons and jump 20' upwards and 30' across.
Superhuman Agility – Parcour! He's capable of scaling buildings quickly and easily and his balance is impeccable. He always lands on his feet, which is a good thing when your primary mutation is super-jumping.
Anatomy – Mort's back is curved downwards, making crouching for long periods of time and hopping on all fours easy, though walking like a normal person is difficult and his gait is bow-legged and hunched. His bones are very flexible and hard to break.
Healing Factor – He's young and isn't aware of this ability yet, but he heals much faster than an ordinary human and can theoretically regenerate limbs over time.
Immune System – Mort grew up taking what he could get when he could get it, and he's really not all that averse to eating live bugs and snakes and the like. This doesn't have any affect on his health.
Skills –
Art – Mort's a talented sketch artist, and has about 6 notebooks filled with doodles of nothing in particular.
Mechanical Engineering – He's not terrible with machines and is good at fixing things. This actually resulted in a mutual, unvoiced crush between him and the X-Man Forge, though it never went anywhere. Maybe he and Tails could collaborate on stuff and things?
Knives && Firearms – He has minimum knowledge of firearms, but he does know how to shoot if need be. On the contrary, he's a natural talent with dual blades and knives, and with some training, could hone these skills into something deadly.
Theft – Years of being desperate have turned him into something of a kleptomaniac. He's a good pickpocket and mug, though a smidge overconfident about this particular skill set.
Other: Speaks in Light Green or #90EE90. Theme for fun: Ever Fallen In Love by The Buzzcocks (check it out, punk rock bruh).
Appearance: Saffron is a fairy-faced woman with a thicker figure. She has short, dark brown hair that's hasn't been brushed in quite a while, brown skin with a splash of freckles here and there, and dull yellow eyes. She's accumulated a throng of scars at her hip, where she was injured a few years ago; due to this, her gait is slow and limping, and she keeps a cane with her. The bones around this area make cracking noises when she walks, if the air's humid. Stands at 5'9" and weighs 167 pounds.
Appearance: She looks much more dangerous than she is. Saffron's canine form is large, long, and fierce for a female, which is good for her because her physical speed is hampered by old wounds that she can't heal. With bright, alert yellow eyes and and a long-furred, sable coat with darker marks around her face, she's rather pretty in this form as well. She's balding slightly and scarred on her left flank, which limps when she walks. Stands at 35" tall, 7.6' long, and weighs 173lb.
Personality: Temperamental at best and wholly unpleasant at worst, Saffron is a grumpy, sarcastic, disobliging jerk who seemingly doesn't have any soft spots for anyone. She dislikes authority figures and, while willing to begrudgingly submit to her superiors, will dispute their decisions with gusto. She's both aggressive and passive-aggressive, and her morals are sketchy and ambiguous. She's willing to hide behind her disabilities if she can get away with it.
On the positive side, Saffron is passionate, intelligent, and thorough with her work. She feels deeply responsible for the health of the rest of the pack and is known to be kinder to pups and omegas than she is to higher ranking lycans. Even if she'll complain about something she's incredibly dependable and true to her word; when she says she'll do something, better believe it'll get done. It's difficult to befriend her, but once one does she's willing to throw her day away for them if they need it, and her sense of humor--the fastest way to her heart--is snarky and easy-going.
While she'd prefer to live on her own, she fears that her old injuries would kill her if she tried to leave the pack, and (believing herself to be the best at what she does) worries that no one would be able to take her place if she left.
History: Saffron's father was absent during her childhood, and she doesn't know a lot about him. From what she'd overheard her mother say while she was growing up, she's pieced together that he was a Canadian lycan named Roy who struck out on his own to become a freelance artist. She doesn't know what happened to him after he left her and her mother, only that no one's heard from him since.
Her mother, Sarah Cunningham, was a health practitioner after her own heart. A physical therapist and a gentle midwife, Sarah was the most dependable member in their pack next to her brother, who had been an alpha. Theirs was the Burnham Pack, a group of 20 (give or take) located north of Chicago, right next to Lake Michigan. While growing up, Saffron inherited her mother's talents for healing and developed her own unique, disobliging ways.
When she was nineteen, the pack entered a quarrel with the locals outside their territory, which climaxed in physical conflict. Killed or injured were thirteen humans and the alpha pair, Sarah, and two pups were dead or missing by the end. Saffron slipped down the bank of the lake while running from the attack and pinched herself between two slabs of slate, and in freeing herself she punctured the skin on her left side and pinched a nerve. While she could dress the wounds herself, surgery wasn't available to fix the internal damage, and she had to learn how to get around the numbness and the aches.
The pack dissipated and Saffron struck out on her own, finding the Blue Ridge Pack (medic-less, at the time) a year later. In exchange for protection Saffron offered the medical expertise her mother had taught her, and three years later she's managed to keep that position.
Extra:
-She suffers from chronic headaches and pain from her waist down.
-She's openly homosexual.
-Speaks in Light Salmon
Name: Pietro Johnson-Angelov Gender: Male Age: 25 Rank: Adult Male Trade: Merchant
Appearance: Pietro is a tall, thin, and slightly androgynous man with--he's been told--a very beautiful smile. A pretty boy, if you will. 6'5" and 179 lb.
Appearance: A tri colored creature with expressive brows, Pietro's wolf form is a fast runner and evasive fighter. The front of his torso is a little broader, but his lower body, legs, and tail are long and thin. 9'3" in length, 46" tall and weighs 198 lb.
Personality: Angelov comes off as silver-tongued, intellectually aggressive, and selfish, basically a bag full of witty comebacks and neurotic behavior. He's typically a calm individual who enjoys being in his wolf form, and enjoys jilting lovers even more--unfortunately, with the move there isn't a lot of available fish in the sea, but he'll make due.
Underneath his cocky exterior he's easily hurt and he doesn't like to bother others with his spurned emotions. Hyper aware of his own inadequacies and believing himself to be incapable of being useful, Pietro loathes himself to an extent; he doesn't even believe that mating will be a viable option for him. (He's too flighty, too selfish, too transparent to be loved for who he truly is).
He's very paranoid and holds an extreme distrust for anyone outside of the pack, towards whom he'd play the manipulative Willy Wonka of the team. He tries his best with them, however, hoping to strike a bargain; being the charmer that he is he's not terrible at it. Leave the wooing to him.
Inside the pack he's fiercely loyal. Although telling people how he feels is against his nature, he's outgoing enough to ask a friend if something's up and try to fix the problem, if he can--his solutions usually consist of 'Hey, let's party and hunt down a caribou or something'. He's prone to dragging on his peers, and expects them to do the same for him.
History: Born to Nico and Moira Johnson-Angelov of Italy and Wales respectively, he was the smaller of twin brothers--and so it always was. The second to be born, the second to walk, the second to eat, and second best to his brother, Gus, in Nico's eyes. Growing up in his Gus' shadow, Pietro recklessly and ineffectually sought his father's approval, often resulting in either getting in trouble with his pack or putting himself in harm's way.
As the years went on and Nico ever looking down his nose at him, Pietro began to assume there was something wrong with himself.
When they were six years old, Gus already barrel-chested and bright eyed, the pack relocated from the UK to America. Life proceeded as smoothly as it could have, and at 20 Pietro threw in the towel on his family and left to find somebody who'd appreciate him. And here we are.
Extra?: With Ry gone, I figured I'd just take merchant. Speaks in Light Cyan.
Upright Appearance: Saffron is a fairy-faced woman with a thicker figure. She has short, dark brown hair that's hasn't been brushed in quite a while, brown skin with a splash of freckles here and there, and dull yellow eyes. She's accumulated a throng of scars at her hip, where she was injured a few years ago; due to this, her gait is slow and limping, and she keeps a cane with her. The bones around this area make cracking noises when she walks, if the air's humid. Stands at 5'9" and weighs 167 pounds.
Canine Appearance: She looks much more dangerous than she is. Saffron's canine form is large, long, and fierce for a female, which is good for her because her physical speed is hampered by old wounds that she can't heal. With bright, alert yellow eyes and and a long-furred, sable coat with darker marks around her face, she's rather pretty in this form as well. She's balding slightly and scarred on her left flank, which limps when she walks. Stands at 35" tall, 7.6' long, and weighs 173lb.
Personality: Temperamental at best and wholly unpleasant at worst, Saffron is a grumpy, sarcastic, disobliging jerk who seemingly doesn't have any soft spots for anyone. She dislikes authority figures and, while willing to begrudgingly submit to her superiors, will dispute their decisions with gusto. She's both aggressive and passive-aggressive, and her morals are sketchy and ambiguous. She's willing to hide behind her disabilities if she can get away with it.
On the positive side, Saffron is passionate, intelligent, and thorough with her work. She feels deeply responsible for the health of the rest of the pack and is known to be kinder to pups and omegas than she is to higher ranking lycans. Even if she'll complain about something she's incredibly dependable and true to her word; when she says she'll do something, better believe it'll get done. It's difficult to befriend her, but once one does she's willing to throw her day away for them if they need it, and her sense of humor--the fastest way to her heart--is snarky and easy-going.
While she'd prefer to live on her own, she fears that her old injuries would kill her if she tried to leave the pack, and (believing herself to be the best at what she does) worries that no one would be able to take her place if she left.
History: Saffron's father was absent during her childhood, and she doesn't know a lot about him. From what she'd overheard her mother say while she was growing up, she's pieced together that he was a Canadian lycan named Roy who struck out on his own to become a freelance artist. She doesn't know what happened to him after he left her and her mother, only that no one's heard from him since.
Her mother, Sarah Cunningham, was a health practitioner after her own heart. A physical therapist and a gentle midwife, Sarah was the most dependable member in their pack next to her brother, who had been an alpha. Theirs was the Burnham Pack, a group of 20 (give or take) located north of Chicago, right next to Lake Michigan. While growing up, Saffron inherited her mother's talents for healing and developed her own unique, disobliging ways.
When she was nineteen, the pack entered a quarrel with the locals outside their territory, which climaxed in physical conflict. Killed or injured were thirteen humans and the alpha pair, Sarah, and two pups were dead or missing by the end. Saffron slipped down the bank of the lake while running from the attack and pinched herself between two slabs of slate, and in freeing herself she punctured the skin on her left side and pinched a nerve. While she could dress the wounds herself, surgery wasn't available to fix the internal damage, and she had to learn how to get around the numbness and the aches.
The pack dissipated and Saffron struck out on her own, finding the Blue Ridge Pack (medic-less, at the time) a year later. In exchange for protection Saffron offered the medical expertise her mother had taught her, and three years later she's managed to keep that position.
Extra:
-She suffers from chronic headaches and pain from her waist down.
[h2](I'm actually [i]not[/i] Rick Sanchez, surprise, surprise.)[/h2][hr]
Used to be Entropsy, you can call me whatever you want--
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-h2">(I'm actually <span class="bb-i">not</span> Rick Sanchez, surprise, surprise.)</div><hr class="bb-hr"><br>Used to be Entropsy, you can call me whatever you want--</div>
