Stein — Roleplayer Guild

Ilani Marie Jackson

| NAME(S): |
Ilani Marie Jackson

| NICKNAME(S): | 
Marie, Illy, Il, Lani​

ALIAS(ES):
Sly Spectre

| D.O.B.: |
08/21/1990

| AGE: |
25​

| SEX: |
No thank you.​

| SEXUALITY: |
Heterosexual

| APPEARANCE: |
So like, this bitch is giving you Black Furiosa realness. She's slick and subtle, a slight Tinkerbell coyness to her. But, she's got that look in her amber eyes that if you cross her, she will DRAG YO ASS FO FILTH! Giving you all types of fierceness, she COME THRU on a bitch with her legs for days and years of bitch stompin, pounding the pavement...and sports have toned her body. 

Her hair stays short and crisp, giving you some androgyny realness. And you see that fucking part in her hair, curved like a swinging backhand? She stays on that style. Her nose stud is subtle, something she can take in or out, but enough of a SHBLAM! when she wants it to be.

| H-CLASS: |
MINERVA

| ABILITIES: |
Ilani's MINERVA-Class powers manifest primarily in her Occipital lobe and have led to a variety of applications.

Enhanced Occipital Lobe: 
Her earliest indications of her ability were shown in the enhanced functioning of her Occipital lobe. Ilani can process more stimuli and faster than the average human. Colors are more vibrant, texture is apparent on anything she sees. Scanning a room provides a wealth of detail and information. With focus, she can hone in on one aspect of a visual and study it. She has utilized this to study expressions, making her an apt casual lie detector (definitely a perk when it comes to her work). However, her eyesight can be overstimulated if she's not careful (I.E. Scanning excessively large crowds). Her focus is key in situations such as this.

Remote Viewing: 
Her ability went on to mature slightly, manifesting psychic properties. Ilani is able to "zoom" her view in on something via an accute version of psychic projection. This "remote viewing" gives her the ability to see objects from farther away. (With a bit of concentration, she can even focus her enhanced perception simultaneously with her remote viewing, allowing her to "zoom in" on smaller objects to an extent.) Currently, she can zoom her eyesight approximately 2X normal human eyesight with ease, and 4X with some effort.

(Slightly) Enhanced Coordination: The proximity of the occipital lobe to the spinal cord has made Ilani's hand-eye coordination more proficient as well.

Distorted Vision: 
Further maturation of her abilities has now allowed Ilani to briefly distort the vision of an individual she makes contact with for an extended period of time (at least 3 seconds). This ability briefly blocks the connection between the eyes and the occipital lobe. This prevents the eyes and mind from making sense of what's being seen, distorting vision (flipping it and blotching parts of it).

SKILLS:
-Superior Marksmanship: Maybe a byproduct of her powers, but Ilani has held a slight affinity for accuracy based activities since birth. After becoming accustomed to any ranged weapon, she can fire with superb accuracy and precision. 
-Superior Perception: Ilani can be very aware of her surroundings, subconsciously taking in everything for an easy conscious recall. Illusions and mind tricks are typically ineffective against her, as she can usually notice when the process begins or even where it starts from.
-Reporter’s Eye: Even without her abilities, Illy can see a story anywhere. She notices inconsistencies in people and things. Puzzles present little challenges to her and her critical thinking skills are something to note.
-Retention: Though not eidetic, Ilani has an uncanny memory. Her recall is impressive and she has memorized entire scripts and poems in a matter of minutes.

| BACKSTORY: |
Ilani’s mother told her--time and time again--throughout her childhood that “She was blessed with a light smile, feather eyes, a sharp tongue and a heavy mouth.” A questioning child-and a blunt one at that-with an unwavering eye, Ilani found it of the utmost importance to inquire on whatever was relevant. 

That tended to be just about everything.

A “grown woman in a tyke body”, Ilani was just as happy alone as with others. Discovering the world around her was a past time and coming up with answers on her own brought her more joy than asking her barrage of precise questions. She studied the home around her, seemingly fascinated with every detail. A visit to the pediatrician yielded no worrying signs and hinted at no deficits.

As she grew, everything became of interest to her. She wanted to know the world. Its ins, outs, places of light, dark, muddied gray and passionate red (her mother especially balked in those areas, her nostrils flaring and her chest rising). Nia and Terry Jackson eventually couldn’t keep up with her seemingly endless number of interests, so they began to plant some of their own. They placed her in extracurricular activities where she would be distracted, yet stimulated and occupied. However, they didn’t expect her interests to change so quickly.

She grew bored of martial arts, even though the teacher stood mildly impressed at her natural aptitude. She loathed dance classes, throwing a small tantrum (that was swiftly halted) after the third day. And her vocal coach recommended “other professionals” in the area after her first session. They finally stumbled across archery. Soon after came baseball, and after that, football (soccer). She quickly acclimated, and excelled, in each sport, finding new venues to pursue. Ilani expanded her tastes, finding other avenues to take up her time. It was around this time that her powers began to manifest. For a 2 month span, Ilani dropped all of her extracurricular activities and took to secluding herself in her room in darkness. None of her friends reported having seen any indications of new friends, drug habits or anything traumatic. Ilani barely ackowledged them in her room. Her parents feared the worst, and were a step away from taking her to see a medical professional. However, Ilani began interacting with the world once more, seemingly as if nothing had happened. She didn’t seem to be hiding any secret shame, and in fact seemed more lively. So her parents tried to remove it from their minds.

By college, she had stumbled into the world of journalism. Having learned to tap into her powers on a light level, Ilani used her gift to her advantage. Her “eye” for detail served her well in investigative reporting, being able to note micro-expressions, the pause before a word, dilated pupils and sweat gland production. If she was the first on the scene, her reports were lavishly descriptive, taking in detail and minute points of observation. The more she saw of the world, the more hunger Ilani had to tell it’s story. Stories of triumph in the everyday man and reflections on the human experience as seen through all walks of life, Ilani felt she saw it all. It certainly translated in her work, gaining her notoriety on her university campus among students and professors alike, if you read the paper or the online articles. 

 A crisp night in October of 2014 saw Ilani huddled in an alley, slumped against the wall, clouds of enraged and wavering breath exhaling from her. 14 individuals, beat to death in cold blood. For enjoyment. For sport! Their entire lives, ended at the behest of a privileged whim. When Ilani had stumbled across the first inklings of this story three months prior, her passion for it fueled six consecutive nights of non-stop digging and chasing leads. Finally, compiling a lengthy cache of evidence to support her latest narrative: A string of homeless murders, that held too many similarities to be coincidence. All from the same neighborhood. The proclaimed “ghetto” of the city. A place where no justice seemed to ever exist, or no one cared enough to see its light shone there.

She strutted into her editors office. Though only recently an intern-turned-staff, she had already caught his eye and though she knew the piece would be hard sell, she stood firm. 

“My theory: as you can see from the correlation in coroner reports and timestamps from the footage, these deaths are connected. And to go further, they’re by a group. Wealthy socialites is my guess. You can look here...and right here, to see the almost indistinguishable marks on each victim. And--” 

Her piece was shut-down before it could take its first breath. “Straw grasping”, “beneath you”, “better quality,” were the terms her editor tried to pepper and obscure the air with. But Ilani’s gaze never wavered. She saw them, the micro expressions of fear, amazement (at her) and panic. Ben Manley, her editor, balking in the face of the truth. Which meant he knew something or he simply didn’t care about the ghetto’s, just like everyone else in the damned city.

The man tuttled on, but Ilani’s mind only saw hot flashes of anger. She turned in the middle of his lecture on “delivering quality pieces”, smiled at him, and sauntered out, leaving all of her work for the past months.

Following the confrontation with Mr. Manley, the night landed Ilani Marie in her apartment, drunk and fuming. Though her inquisitive and precise nature was what she was known for, her blatant and stubborn opposition to injustice locked into slot 2 of her “Most Notable Defining Elements”. She couldn't back down. She wouldn't. After an empty bottle of Myx Moscato, her idea came through in a clear flash:

"Tackle it from a different angle."

Her plan was simple: She had to find a vigilante to cover, their rising prevalence was something everyone wanted to hear about. Maybe, by working with one, she could predict the next attack, or narrow it down. And from there, prevent the attack and cover the story. She didn't have to be an inferno, she could just be the spark to the brush. Get the people talking about it, get all eyes on this string of deaths. 

Hell, she would even give her story to someone else so she didn't catch the flack for it. Anything so these stories were told and justice was served.
---

After a month of searching and sleuthing, she finally made contact with a vigilante. 

Or rather, he found her. Since the Kowalski terrorist incident, so many of them had been popping up, and so many of them too green for their line of work. But not this one. A Hype himself with ability to hyper-extend his limbs up to 20 feet, he had been doing the job for a little over a year.

---
"Are you stupid? Hunting around out here is dangerous."

"Last time I checked, no," she smirked at him from beneath hood. He didn't intimidate her in this alley they stood in. "What if I was out here looking for monsters, or the men who have the courage to take them down?" She eyed him curiously. He wore a simple cowl and almost looked a little comical running around in shorts and a cut off hoodie. But she supposed stretchy clothes were a bit hard to come by.

"You'll get yourself killed," he responded simply, lightening his hold on her against the alley wall. 

"People die everyday and I'm trying to make sure maybe a few less get killed if I have a say-so." She eyed him now, pulling back her hood and pushing him back. "Either help me help the people, or get the hell out of my way."

---
Apparently, her resolve was enough to get him to stop and listen to her. Something about the defiance in her eyes, he told her as they sat down at her apartment the next day. She had made the effort to extend trust by opening up her home.

From there, she and the vigilante -- Mr. Limbs was his alias -- compiled her work and spent the next week plotting all the information she had on the attack. He made connections she couldn't with his experience in crime. She saw consistencies and patterns he couldn't due to her nature and abilities. Together, they made a powerful duo of intellect and might.

At the end of their week, Illy stood back, looking at their work. Diagrams, maps and reports all leading to a localized area for the next attack. Beside it, a narrowed list of possible perpetrators that still seemed to be inconclusive. They were missing something--but one things was sure: the culprit was moving the bodies postmortem. And they had finally narrowed it down to a building in the abandoned district of the city.

But something felt "off" to Illy. These victims, none of them could be traced to the city at all. And a majority of them seemed to be Hypes. Something didn't make sense.

--
"We've got to do it though!" Erick, Mr. Limbs, spoke up. "These are my people dying out there."

Illy bit her tongue. She still hadn't revealed being a Hype herself. For some reason, she hadn't wanted to come clean with the information. "Look, that doesn't mean I don't want them saved too. But we have to tread lightly. What if the guy or group is in this building right now? You go barging in, then what?"

"I do what I've been doing for over a year: I fight, I win and I protect. Look, you're the one who came to me and--"

"Therefore I should be calling the shots," Illy interrupted stepping to him. "I'm saying stop so we can go in fully prepared. But if you want to charge in, you go right on ahead!"

Erick stormed off then, leaving her to fume in her apartment. It wasn't long before her gut overtook her stubborn nature and she was out the door as well, hoodie and walkie-talkies in tow. This damned story would get her killed.
---

She met Erick at the site, a looming warehouse district that couldn't have looked more typical and cliche. She voiced her concerns again, eventually able to talk him down to promising to simply scope the area out tonight.

When they found the actual warehouse, however, she knew that promise was going to be broken. 

Illy had been the one to see it, the smudge of filthy windows providing little conceal for the warehouse. She stood atop another building peering in. Blood covered the floor and smears and dried splashes. She could also spot sterilized tools of torture lining a metal table. Seats lined that area as well and Illy felt sick to her stomach. Some group was killing people for entertainment and reveling in it. She debated on calling it in to Erick, knowing what his reaction would be. But, she had to.

The moment she mentioned the blood, he stopped responding on his walkie-talkie. From her vantage point she could see the sector he was in and soon made him out, charging to her indicated warehouse. 

"Erick! Erick wait! We don't know if there's anyone in there! We need to catch them in the act and make sure they don't do anything!" She pleaded into the walkie, but knew the situation was fruitless. Something in her warned against this. She analyzed the building, straining her eyes to find any signs of current life in the building. 

Mr. Limbs burst through the doors of the warehouse, and Illy expected to hear shouts and gunfire, but nothing happened. He strode in. She could make him out through the window panels and all seemed fine, but she didn't trust it. Something was off.

"Sly!" 

Illy jumped at the sound of her walkie. It was Erick.

"Sly, I hear muffled banging from the back area. Sly, I think there's people trapped in here. I knew it! I'm going in."

"Limbs wait!" She tried to tell him once more. Her eyes narrowed on the back area. And suddenly she could see into the building, the window providing a good line of sight. She finally knew what was off about the building. Why it seemed so open. Why the door had been unlocked. She understood the blatant advertisement. She understood everything when saw the red trip wire running across the length of the door Erick was walking to. The source of the muffled banging.

"ERICK --!"

The explosion halted the rest of her speech as she fell back. Flames lit the sky and area around her and even from her position, she could feel the gust of heat as it expelled from the building.

| MOTIVATION/OBJECTIVE: |
Illy stayed the rest of the night, shocked and in complete silence. She counted 15 bodies of charred remains being wheeled out as the authorities made it on the scene. Erick's was among them, and Illy wept for him.

The incident that night was never reported. It never made the news or any paper and officially, it was faulty wiring with no reported deaths. That told Illy everything she needed to know. 15 people dead and no one cared. No one knew. No one spoke for them.
---

It was only a series of small steps from then on before Illani Marie Jackson committed to the mantle of a vigilante. She came to find that the individuals had all been Hypes traveling through the city on their way to find safety. Innocent people looking for sanctuary. 

She felt keeping her powers from Erick might have played a small hand in the events that night. Making him feel like he had to be the one who acted because he was the only Hype who knew. It was senseless to think, but Illani couldn't help herself. 

It's been 6 months since that night and Illani has dedicated much of her time to protecting and has even played around with idea of joining one of the convoys making its way to this fabled Sanctuary.

| REFERENCE POST(S): |
Vigilance: Rise of the Mavericks: IllAdvised, Angel and Feral heed their Call to Arms as Mavericks for a city who has laid in want. But, can they stand against their own demons?
Vigilance: Blood and Justice: Resident Magni and drunk Sarks Hummel can’t catch a break in this city. Things were much easier across the Pond. The persistent rain and his missing personal assistant aren’t making things much easier.
The new Eidolons: In the realm of Elenthalheim, all is not as it seems of the society, fighting for survival. Deep in the heart, they prepare for the day when their world will need them most. And that day is rapidly approaching.

EXTRA: Vigilance: Rise of the Mavericks: Want to know what it’s like inside the mind of a sultan serving the face of a god? Take a glimpse at a juicy snippet inside the life of Raja.

| NOTES: |
WIP
Stein Member

That's Queen Stein, thank you.

Status

Recent Statuses

Bio

Most Recent Posts
