Spoopy Scary

The Promise - The Ghost Note Wuz Here. He said "Say the N Word."

If his rival is an asthmatic cripple, then the competition is looking less stiff.

The Promise - The Ghost Note Wuz Here. He said "Say the N Word."

That was for Allen, but I guess you took the barbarian class too.

The Promise - The Ghost Note Wuz Here. He said "Say the N Word."

<Snipped quote by SepticGentleman>

You probably got the shittiest loot, too.

@Mr Allen J

Depends on who you are. For you, maybe. After all, intelligence is your dump stat.

The Promise - The Ghost Note Wuz Here. He said "Say the N Word."

The only beats he tries to miss are the ones his daddy gives him.

The Promise - The Ghost Note Wuz Here. He said "Say the N Word."

Procella May Kennedy

Procella May Kennedy

Click here for picture fuck bbcode

⫸ B A S I C I N F O R M A T I O N ⫷

⫸ A P P E A R A N C E ⫷

▼ | S T A T S : |

▸ B I R T H N A M E : | Procella May Kennedy.
▸ N I C K N A M E / A L I A S : |
▸ G E N D E R : | Female
▸ A G E : | 17
▸ H E I G H T : | 5'2.
▸ W E I G H T : | 105 lbs soaking wet, which she often is.
▸ E T H N I C I T Y : | Caucasian, but a quarter Cherokee.
▸ Y E A R : | First year.

▼ | P H Y S I C A L D E S C R I P T I O N : |

Procella looks like she might blow away if one strong breeze hits her, which is about as misleading as appearances can get, aside from thinking that the lisp and face tattoo make Mike Tyson seem harmless. She's got short cut brown hair that's streaked with grey - she appears to be going grey rather prematurely, but is at least doing so with style. Her nose is a bit upturned and there are a few faint freckles on her cheeks. She doesn't have a very prominent jawline and her face is more rounded. Her skin is fairly pale, and one might not guess at her grandmother's Cherokee blood. She tends to stand with a very slight hunch, and favors her right leg. She usually stands with her arms crossed over her chest, curling in just a bit, as if she were cold. She nearly always wears a rainjacket of some kind - she's cold-natured, and with her slim build she usually needs it to stay warm. Procella's eyes are a dull blue-green, and she has pretty ugly fingernails from chewing on them. Bad habits. She has a scar on the palm of her left hand and on the outside of her right leg from a time, jagged, but usually not too noticeable (the right leg scar is on her thigh and hidden unless one were, ah, getting to know Procella). She suffers from an incurable genetic condition most commonly known as resting bitch face. She generally isn't too expressive, which doesn't help much. Not the most approachable. Her coat and - to a lesser degree, her hair - tend to sway and ripple a bit even when Procella is sitting still, as if a gust of wind was perpetually rushing them. This usually isn't super noticeable, but is more prominent when Procella loses her cool. She has a tattoo of a thunderbird that spans her back and the right side of her chest, similar to this.

⫸ P S Y C H O L O G Y ⫷

▼ | P E R S O N A L I T Y : |

Procella is a bit broody. She's not mean, just slow to warm up to people and never good at initiating conversations. She tends to be slightly self-conscious - as most teenagers, and, hell, adults - often are, and usually questions the motives of people coming up and striking conversations. The positive side is that Procella is very unlikely to be ensnared into a timeshare seminar. The downside is that she's not exactly a social butterfly. Procella tends to be more of a thinker than a doer - she plans and mulls over her choices before committing one way or another. This makes finding a place to eat with her nightmarish and playing board games with her similar nightmarish. She's got a pretty dark sense of humor, which can alienate some people who, understandably, take her seriously. She's not averse to making friends, just not particularly good at it, and slow to open up. This can make her a little easily manipulated on that front. She's fairly clever and has a good work ethic, and generally does well in classes. Prefers to think things rather than to say them, and has admiration for those who can put themselves out there.

▼ | B A C K S T O R Y : |

I really hate backstories. Essentially, she grew up in a fairly decent family, but due to it being a military family, she moved around a lot and never developed a lot of lasting relationships. Close ties with her family, however. She considers her powers more of a curse and is generally afraid for how they'll impact her life, and hopes that the Promise can enable a semblance of a normal life heading out.

⫸ P O W E R I N F O R M A T I O N ⫷

▼ | P O W E R C L A S S I F I C A T I O N : |

Elemental

▼ | P O W E R D E S C R I P T I O N : |

Procella is - as you may have noticed by the motif thus far - a walking hurricane. Her powers are usually not quite so dramatic, but a walking tropical breeze doesn't sound quite as cool. Her body is both a magnet for and a source of violent weather changes. Her ability to directly control these changes is somewhat limited - she can alter them to some degree, but isn't really capable of precise action. Her atmospheric powers are also theorized to help out on the Promise, as she could, in theory, help retain some semblance of an atmosphere if the hull was ruptured and the systems were critically damaged. Her powers give her a general immunity to electricity, but she hasn't put this into practice too much. The source of the scars on her hand and leg are from being struck by lightning while trying to test out her powers on a water tower - the lightning didn't harm her, but she fell off the ladder and hit the barbed wire fence nearby; she may shrug off a taser, but it could still cause her to seize up a bit or flinch. Procella's powers are generally focused on wind, rain, and lightning (the ladder to a much lesser degree) but she has produced hail on occasion. It wouldn't be technically accurate to call her power "atmospheric manipulation", as that implies a greater degree of finesse and control than she really has, but it's not entirely off the mark. She could, with time and experience, learn to willfully alter more subtle nuances of the air around her, like humidity, or produce more specific weather effects, like hail, etc. As is, these are mostly accidental byproducts. Her "lower level" powers are useful but mostly situational. She, when angry, can accidentally discharge electricity, but not like hurling lightning bolts or anything. She could probably ruin a computer by poking it if she was really furious, and if she was hand-to-hand fighting for her life, could zap her target pretty well (or, more likely, they'd get zapped trying to grab her - she's not much of a fighter). Procella, if properly hydrated, could also exude a decent amount of mist, which would be more her speed - rather than trying to fight and running the risk of killing herself or someone else, she could slip away. She can affect the temperature and humidity to some degree, but not with a lot of precision. While likely not of much use on the Promise, her ability to affect the wind could pretty severely fuck up any long-range sniping. She could also probably manage to produce a bout of thunder at will, which has little direct impact, but has its uses. Her ability to "generate weather" can also lend itself to some creative uses - she's clever and practical enough to figure out ways to sustain herself without breathing, and could probably make her scent near-impossible to follow if she put her mind to it. Chemical weapons used against Procella would likely not be very effective, as she could pretty easily turn toxic gas back on her attackers (see: any use of mustard gas in WWI when the breeze was blowing).

Limits

Firstly, we'll talk about the "inertia" of her power. Procella generally doesn't like going all-out, because she doesn't have much control over things once they get to that level. Her lack of precision has hurt others and herself in the past, so she's less than totally willing to go to that level. Once things start really rolling, it's hard for her to just flip it off - when the air starts circulating, the pressure drops, etc, it takes considerable energy to reverse that. Maintaining and reaching that level is very energy-exhausting as well, and requires a bit of focus. Active weather manipulation takes a lot of concentration on her part - if someone was running at her, she wouldn't really be able to whip up a hurricane to stop them in the span of a few seconds. In a large melee, she could duck into a corner and start working her magic, but in a one on one confrontation, her options are more limited. She's got the potential to be a better direct fighter, but has had little training and shied away from really fine-tuning her abilities, or the more creative applications of her abilities. Procella is immune to her own abilities, but not to the repercussions of them - very few buildings tend to withstand hurricane force winds, so if Procella goes full-strength, she runs the risk of dropping a building on herself. Again, less of a problem in the Promise, but debris flying around can still do plenty of damage to her. This coupled with her aversion of using her abilities means she probably won't go full force unless she's truly furious or in severe danger of her own life. Procella's limp also inhibits her fighting abilities a bit, and makes her more cautious to get into a confrontation.

⫸ O T H E R ⫷

Procella has a limp from falling off the water tower, and occasionally uses a cane, but sometimes doesn't - she doesn't want to get labelled the cripple girl, after all.

@He Who Walks Behind

I fixed up the link and got rid of the excess indent tags.

The Promise - The Ghost Note Wuz Here. He said "Say the N Word."

---

Abraham Gene

_{@SepticGentleman}

---

Abraham looked towards the approaching man at the prompting of his voice. "Poster caught your eye, stranger?" Indeed, though this time it was the man's own head that enraptured Abe's attention. The guy was wearing a mask on his face. He wondered if he planned on blowing something up or was just so hideously ugly that he hid behind it. Whatever the case, security wasn't jumping on the guy, so whatever his reason was didn't matter to him. Strange, sure, but Abe was in space now. The bar of expectations of weirdness should be set pretty high by now. He looked at the man (though he was not quite sure where to look at) with a smirk, then back at the poster.

"With it being that orange and shiny, how could it not?" Abe replied. "Yeah, it caught my eye. So what's it about, really? This Archie guy looking for a special someone to catch some hands?"

Truth be told, that was one thing he learned from fighting rings on the street. Sure, it was mostly for fun and money. But people also used them as hunting grounds to scope out some able bodies to do a bit of dirty work for meager pay. He wasn't sure if such practice existed on board this station, but it was big. Big enough that some things could go missing - or some people. But public advertisement for such a recreation sounded unbelievable. There was something more to what the poster was advertising than it told us.

It didn't help that it was formatted in such a way that it seemed to speak to those who already knew what it was.

"I can fight," Abe continued, "but I don't like being a part of someone else's game."

The Promise - The Ghost Note Wuz Here. He said "Say the N Word."

Concept: Nick posting, and everyone is happy. We can continue.

The Promise - The Ghost Note Wuz Here. He said "Say the N Word."

@Mega Birb, if anyone tries to dictate what writing style in how you fill out your sheet, their roleplay isn't one worth joining anyways.

The Promise - The Ghost Note Wuz Here. He said "Say the N Word."

---

Abraham Gene

---

Abe was one of the lucky few that made it onto the shuttle without being drugged and kidnapped, but was only just on the other side of a thin line that kept him away from that circumstance. He believed that, if he refused, they might have just taken him anyways. If face with a no win scenario, it's better to take the better option so that you're at least left with something – then you can bide your time and win later. But it is hard to call yourself lucky when you were forced into something, especially when that “something” is being strapped onto a rocket and getting shot into space. The trip was so stomach wrenching, and the force was so powerful, he was positive that he'd throw up everything he had eaten if he had actually bothered to eat today. He was fortunate in this regard – word had it that some among them were already puking on themselves or on the floor. This is the sort of thing Abe meant when he was thinking about being left with something and winning later.

Whatever promise that the Promise had was unclear to him at best. He just hoped it wouldn't be a waste of time.

-

As the pod approached, the port at the bottom of it's central spire opened and the pod flew seamlessly into it. Abraham and many other students lurched forward when a series of braking systems enclosed around the pod as it flew through the port's bowels. As it came to a stop, the seat belts released from around the normal students.

The whole process of transporting the group 350 miles had taken twenty minutes.

The doors opened, and a flood of people in all shapes and sizes rushed in. Abraham unlocked his own restraints, but he was still too disoriented from the blast-off to stand. A variety of strangers came into pod to help the new first years get out of the pod and help them stand, and to Abe's aid came a younger woman. Blonde and thin, dressed with a wool peacoat over her regular clothes as space travel can be quite chilly at times. She had the most ethereal blue eyes that looked to glow in the dark. She offered her hand to him with an uncomfortable smile.

“Hi, welcome aboard the Promise!” She said in a thick Slavic accent. “What's your name?”

Abe looked her up and down and gave her a weak smirk. “The name's Abraham, darlin',” he replied queasily as he took her hand to help himself up - “Oof!”

The girl might have been somewhat tall, but she was tiny in comparison to the man, and had to use her whole body just to support Abraham's weight.

“...But you can call me Abe.” He finished.

The girl laughed a little. “What if I just call you Abraham?”

“Oh man, that's cold.” Abe joked. “Well what do I call you then?”

“My name's Andrea.” She said with a smile. “This will be my second year on Promise.”

“Is that right? So, I hope you don't mind my asking, but what's with the...?” Abe drew circles around his eyes.

“Do you start every conversation about powers?” Andrea joked back. “It has to do with being a cerebral, I guess. There are so many different kinds meta-humans on board, that you just learn not to question anything. All of it becomes normal after a while. I promise you'll eventually feel at home here.” She guaranteed with a smile as the two finally hauled themselves to the door.

“You people and this place sure like their promises.” Abe commented. He looked at her as she left him leaning against the frame. “Is there a problem?”

“Oh, uh, your first steps!” Andrea said. “There's a sort of custom on board that encourages newcomers to take their first steps on their own.”

“Even the people who were forced here?” Abe asked, picking up on the hypocrisy.

“It's hard to get, I know.” Andrea agreed. “But it's easier to understand the longer you've been here.”

Abe just sighed and shrugged. Holding tightly onto the doorway for him to keep his balance, he stuck a foot through the doorway and felt the dock firmly beneath his boot - but his ankles felt wobbly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn't intending on embarrassing himself here. He wasn't weak. He didn't need help. He braced his legs and steeled nerves. Pissed himself off a little, honestly. He opened his eyes, steeled his face, and let go of the doorway and walked out. Posture straight and legs strong. Andrea watched him stroll away from the shuttle, alarmed.

“That's... impressive.” She said. “Most people can barely hold their lunch in, let alone...”

“Most people aren't like me.” Abe interrupted with cocksure bravado.

“Uh... right...” Andrea said. She was skimming his surface thoughts for any clues, but what she gathered was just too big a flurry of overwhelming and aggressive emotions for her to discern anything– but how Abraham conducted himself betrayed all of it with a convincing portrayal of moxie.

“So, what do you think--” Abe tried asking, but Andrea put a finger up.

“Uh, excuse me, I-I'm sorry, but I've got to be somewhere. Help more of the newcomers! Feel free to look around and mingle and... stuff. Sorry – got to go!”

Andrea hurried off in a rush towards another section of the shuttle, seemingly finding her way through the crowd well, and leaving Abe out to dry and curious. He shrugged his shoulders and promised himself to go find her later as he started walking off and looking at the walls, and listening to conversations to see if he can't find himself a place to be. There were a couple of desks with long lines, but he'd wait those out. A large orange poster on a wall caught his eye though, and a group made up mostly of athletic folks were surrounding it. As Abe approached, they allowed him some space to read.

“Presented by Andrew 'Archie Davis... the Combatica Challenge.” Abe muttered to himself. He doubted he'd find himself a place here, but it looks like there might be something for him after all.

---

Andrea Pasternack

_@JunkMail

---

Andrea was in eager retreat from Abraham and whatever danger she felt he presented. Her mind was flurrying – for some, some reason, God, she couldn't think why. Something about him just felt threatening to her and... Lord, the walls were closing in on her. Spiked, prickly, suffocating walls - breathe - she had to breath! In and out. In through the nose... out through the mouth... she was beginning to regain her nerves now and was trying to think back on something. There was a reason for this sudden anxiety. There had to be. There's a reason for everything, she just had to think back. Maybe he reminded her of something or someone...

“Welcome to the Promise, Wednesday.”

That voice. She knew that voice, the one with the distinct British accent. She turned around to see Arianna and found immediate comfort in being around a familiar face. A girl with beautiful blonde hair, thin like she was, and Andrea likely had some British influence on her Slavic accent, so it was no big surprise when people might have confused the two as sisters. That was one suggestion she couldn't complain about – they may as well have been. Arianna's help in getting herself to fit in was invaluable.

“Arianna!” Andrea exclaimed out of relief.

Arianna turned around curiously and then gave her an excited wave. "Hello, love!"

Andrea greeted her with a warm hug and found solace in her touch. “I'm glad I managed to find you out here. Who's our new passenger?”

"This is Wednesday!" Arianna proclaimed proudly. "Wednesday, Andrea Pasternack. Polish beauty queen."

"That's enough of that." Andrea jested with a smile.

She looked Wednesday up and down as though she was reading her. Wednesday felt threatening in a similar way to man she helped out, prompting reluctance as she was still somewhat shaken by him, but Wednesday was different in that she carried a greater burden on her; a vulnerability, which made her feel more trustworthy than the man. Maybe it was foolish on her behalf, but experience taught her that the difference between people molded by responsibility and molded by choices was that the former was held in higher favor on moral grounds than the latter. Andrea glanced away for a moment as if to look at someone – no one was there – and then back at Wednesday's eyes wand tilted her head to the side.

“She has weary shoulders,” she commented absentmindedly in her soothing voice. Her face softened to a delicate and gentler expression.

“What are you worried about, miss?” She asked.

The Promise - The Ghost Note Wuz Here. He said "Say the N Word."

I'm gonna steal your fucking bones.