TaintedMushroom

The Evenomed: Violent Military SciFi Action Across A Post-War Expanse

Birth name \\ Plako Delsin
Chosen name \\ Jesse James
Callsign \\ Current // Jackal \\ Prior // Wildcat, Rattlesnake, Huntsman, Eagle, Chameleon

Age \\ 87

Species \\ 30% Human \\ 70% Machine

Appearance

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Background

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Born in the year 4150, Plako Delsin was only alive for five minutes. According to the official records of the Dolsilvec Foundation there was a birth certificate and a death certificate registered for Plako Delsin approximately five minutes apart. Assuming one could find Delsin’s real name and establish the existence of these records one would be led to believe that Plako Delsin had died shortly after birth. The birth certificate would feature only the name’s Jane and John Doe as mother and father. And that was only if one could find any hint of a trail to that which Delsin himself had buried years ago.

The circumstances of Delsin’s birth were immoral at best and certainly unsanctioned. A pet project of a high ranking military official and a disgraced researcher searching for a chance to turn their career around resulted in an artificially inseminated baby which had been genetically modified to increase tolerance and enhance potential in regards to ether with a preference for Oneiric Chasm energy. For the first five years Delsin lived in a solitary room attended only by researchers and armed guards in a facility where no one would treat him like anything other than an object. Military tutors were brought in to at least ensure the boy was socialized and intelligent enough to serve should the project succeed.

Unfortunately, after five years of extensive testing through various means it was becoming obvious that Delsin’s body exhibited no signs of ethereal connection to the Oneiric Chasm. The project was considered a failure and Delsin was to be disposed of and the lead researcher terminated to tie up any connection to the ranking officer who had instigated the program.

Not one to give up, the man responsible for Delsin’s creation orchestrated a break out of himself and the child before either command could be carried out. With no allies at hand and no one to turn to there was no other choice but for the two to flee into OSLF territory. A risky escape and an unsanctioned landing resulted in only Delsin’s survival upon his arrival to one of the many black cities forming the backbone of the OSLF. Five years old, barely aware of the world and what it held, hardly having met more than twenty people and having actually spoken with far fewer, the odds that Delsin would survive were astoundingly low.

Pressure forms diamonds, and Delsin was a diamond in the rough. The hard life he found himself in created a man who went to any length for his own survival and was above nothing to ensure he’d breathe a little longer. For the first few years Delsin lived little better than an animal, feasting on scraps and fighting to survive. He shunned any authority and refused to abide by any command. Until one day Delsin was pummeled into the dirt and left within an inch of death by a shop owner who he’d been attempting to steal some food from.

Bleeding and broken in an alleyway was where he was found by a local group of gun runners. At first they planned to move on after checking his pockets and finding nothing of value but a sympathetic member who one would easily identify as the runt of the group pleaded the boy's case. Perhaps it was actual sympathy or perhaps just opportunism. Either way from the point on Delsin was shown a different side of authority. They may have saved his life that day but it certainly wasn’t out of kindness. As a small boy Delsin could fit into places that others could not and quickly became of use to the group for a variety of reasons big and small.

For years the gun runners dragged Delsin along as an unwilling member of their outfit. For the first couple Delsin resisted when possible but eventually the abuse and punishment for disobedience taught him how to keep his head down and do as he was told. As Delsin grew older and neared his teen years he quickly began to bulk up making it harder or downright impossible to do the same jobs he’d done for the crew before. It was quickly becoming obvious as time went on that his usefulness to the gunrunners was drying up as quickly as it’d come and the winds were starting to change. Before long it was clear Delsin was seen as more of a burden but given his knowledge of the crew members and their operations they couldn’t merely cut him loose. This left him in a tenuous situation in which the crew seemed to view him with silent contempt but tolerated his existence.

Then, when he was at the age of thirteen, they tried to kill him. An incident resulting in the loss of supplies was pinned on Delsin, although it was clear he’d actually had nothing to do with it. It was also clear that they didn’t care, it was likely that maybe there’d never been an incident. Delsin never cared to verify if there was. They had decided they no longer needed the dead weight around and found a convenient excuse to shed it. And so it was there that things changed, in a tiny back room surrounded by the men and women Delsin had worked alongside as boot after boot rained down upon his body and his vision and hearing faded and dulled and the pain grew into a distant dull throb.

A sudden shockwave of ether as Delsin’s latent abilities finally manifested. The blows quickly lost any real force and drew to a stop as the assailants found themselves harmlessly floating in the air as gravity around Delsin’s body was distorted. In a bloody haze Delsin could barely tell what was going on, only that he was no longer under attack and as such used the opportunity to retaliate as he roared in anger and seemed to will into existence a miasma of ethereal energy that permeated the room. To this day Delsin can’t remember the full extent of what happened in that room, only that when he was found to be the only survivor on scene it was reported that a massive outbreak of ethereal energy related to the Abyssic plane had warped the surrounding matter and killed or consumed countless people in the area.

Delsin died that day, at least as far as he was concerned. Swallowed up in that accident or never having existed at all, didn’t really matter to him. He’d gotten a few good things from running with the gun runners, one of those was a collection of old earth westerns that one of the crew members had scored when tossing a rival compound. They’d been digitized and stored on a data stick that he’d let Delsin borrow and it was one of the few things Delsin had managed to keep when it all fell apart. One of the more prominent names featured throughout the media was Jesse James, an ole western outlaw who’d been legendary as far as Delsin was concerned. He decided from that day on he would call himself Jesse James as well, to embody the outlaw spirit of answering to no one and taking care of himself.

Over the next decade Delsin slowly became Jesse, his newfound skills from his time with the gunrunners as well as his newfound ethereal abilities allowed him to stabilize his life underground a little more. From common thief to well known local trigger man by the age of twenty. Jesse’s life still wasn’t by any means nice but he’d certainly started carving out some semblance of a routine and a place to call his own. With time, age, and experience the jobs only grew bigger and more serious as well. Jesse never really cared to take allegiance to any one contractor or faction or organization, preferring his role as a freelance operative who answered to only himself. Throughout his early twenties he took advantage of the unstable nature of OSFL space to play whichever side of the field suited his fancy at the time. As a young naive operator at what he thought was the height of the game he didn’t really care why he did what he did, he merely cared about money and the job.

But as time passed and the stakes grew it began to get harder and harder for Jesse to ignore the reality of the political instability of the OSFL. Jesse never considered himself a political person and was quite lacking in the subject of galactic history and politics but at the urging of a trusted associate he took a side. At the age of twenty-five Jesse started operating under a different alias for a group specifically aligned with the OSFL carrying out operations against the growing threat of the larger political players in the game.

For the next twenty-five years Jesse fought enemies of the OSFL on various fronts through a variety of means under a menagerie of aliases. The only constants in his life were conflict of some sort, cramped cruddy living conditions, and his trusted friend. For twenty-five years Jesse and his associate fought together to uphold the ideals of the OSFL, for twenty-five years Jesse trusted the man to watch his back. After twenty-five years of doing just that, he shot Jesse in the back, quite literally.

It was in the year forty-two hundred when Jesse found himself back on familiar turf attempting to assist in the defense of the black city he’d started it all on. It was grueling fighting that seemed to finally be taking a turn for the better when chaos erupted at the arrival of actual NATO units and allies. Jesse was never the one that really understood who was who and why they did what they did, that was his partner’s job. And so Jesse never did understand exactly what it was that made him pull the trigger in that moment. It was a shot that changed everything, destroying the lower vertebrae in Jesse’s spine and leaving him paralyzed on the ground as his position was overrun. Over the following days of chaos Jesse remembers only hazy patches. No explanation was given by his betrayer and his whereabouts were a mystery.

It’s likely Jesse would have laid there amongst the rubble unable to move until death came for him. But someone had other plans, someone who’d kept tabs on Jesse since the day he’d escaped. Jesse remained buried and broken for a few days at least as the local situation required time to simmer off and calm down but a covert rescue mission was soon carried out by none other than the high ranking Dolsilvec from before. Jesse was rescued and subsequently returned to captivity, referred to as Delsin which he vehemently refused to acknowledge, and stuck once more into a room to be studied.

For years after Jesse was kept as a lab rat, confined and kept top secret, cut off from the world he had no idea of what happened to his home or any part of his life prior. They kept him as informationally devoid as possible until finally after 10 years of imprisonment an unknown official with the Yrrkradians sat him down and explained the situation and gave him a choice.

Jesse was never supposed to exist for that matter the official stance of the government was that he should be disposed of. The Dolsilvec who had been responsible for the whole ordeal had already been tried and executed since the Dolsilvec Foundation had become a protectorate under the Yrrkradian Empire. As such Jesse was now the responsibility of the Yrrkradian Empire and their official stance was to dispose of him. Fortunately opportunity found its way to knock once more as Jesse was offered the chance to further assist in Yrrkradian military operations and strategic research due to his extensive history of combat and the origins of his abilities, Yrrkradia officially didn’t want to acknowledge his existence but unofficially saw no point in wasting his potential.

Undergoing a string of experimental surgeries that resulted in Jesse’s first augmentations resulted in the curing of Jesse’s paralysis but also in the replacement of his spine, hips, and everything from their down. Part of Jesse was horrified but it was either paralysis and death or this. For the next nineteen years Jesse participated in the Veiled Wars as an agent of the Yrrkradian Empire with various degrees of success. Between operations Jesse was treated like a lab rat, constantly experimenting and testing the limits of his abyssic ethereal abilities and attempting to find ways to enhance and coordinate his augmentations with those abilities.

When the Veiled Wars sparked into open conflict Jesse was forced to the forefront time and time again due to his effectiveness and efficiency. With each success came another mission and even his failures just resulted in augmentation to repair or replace whatever was damaged before throwing him back into the field. By the time a ceasefire was finally drafted Jesse was more machine than man and had fought in nearly every possible major conflict that Yrrkradia could shove him into. Jesse was eighty-three, but looking at him you’d think he looked only forty-five, at least looking at the parts of him that were still human. Although he looked young, and although his augmentations and experimental enhancements kept his vitality strong and his mind young, he still mentally felt old. Eighty something years of nonstop conflict took a toll on a man’s mind regardless of how much technology tried to offset that.

And so after The Reckoning of Empires Jesse attempted to scuttle off into some hidden corner of space where no one knew of him and disappear. He was relatively successful, the Yrrkradian Empire having no idea where he’d gone or how he’d done so, but they weren’t the only one that had been perhaps keeping an eye on him and on a man like Jesse retirement just doesn’t seem to fit well.

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Character Evaluation

Jesse was once a ruthless man, fully willing to kill in order to ensure his own survival. A rough upbringing and a chaotic younger life resulted in an aggressive and brash man with no respect for authority or care for those around him. Recklessness and a lust for bloodshed would also describe him well in his younger years. Some might call him passionate and righteous depending on their point of view, and when fighting alongside Jesse one would easily agree that regardless of whose side he fought for he had a passion for the struggle itself and always put all of himself into a fight. Trusting wasn’t something that ever came easy for him, and cooperation was a learned skill and nothing more.

When he grew up a bit and learned some sense one might say he became more focused, finding a cause and learning how to play with others a little better. But the anger and aggression always and the love for conflict always remained. The thrill of the kill, the hunt, whatever you wanted to call it. Jesse just didn’t have much value for human life other than his own and that made him damn good at what he did. For a number of years he tried being somewhat honest and attempted to defend something bigger than himself. All it ever earned him was a bullet in the spine from the first person he’d ever dared to trust.

After that Jesse became a tool, an operative of an apparatus far larger than himself. A surgical knife meant to knick and cut where directed, or sometimes an inferno meant to burn and destroy where pointed. Jesse has witnessed and been responsible for death and destruction on massive scales under a variety of flags. He’s never cared about those he’s had to kill and he’s never struggled to sleep over it. But getting close to people, giving anyone a chance to stab him in the back again, never.

These days though Jesse finds himself feeling tired. Having attempted to retire but finding no sense of purpose or fulfillment he found himself once more as a gun for hire just to bring some sort of excitement to his life but time and time again he just can’t shake a sense of exhaustion looming overhead.

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Skills

Gunsmith \\ Jesse is a triggerman at heart and, although he has a preference for the massive hand cannon he packs, he has extensive knowledge of any conventional firearm as well as most well known non-conventional and experimental. Jesse can deconstruct, clean, adjust, and maintain most weaponry with the proper tools.

Sabotage/Assassination \\ Jesse wouldn’t generally be considered discreet but he has been known to be excellent at getting behind enemy lines and creating chaos as well as neutering high profile targets.

Sharpshooter \\ Jesse has years of experience utilizing any sort of weaponry necessary to achieve the job and is highly efficient at hitting his target with whatever weapon in his hands.

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Etherealism

Experimental modification and enhanced augmentations have crafted a delicate type of ethereal power that Jesse wields. Harnessing the energy from the abyssic plane allows Jesse to fade in and out of existence at will. Utilizing this aspect Jesse is able to blink short distances without risking exhaustion as well as briefly fade into the abyssic plane as a means of concealment.

Jesse can also use his abilities to assist with FTL travel.

Utilizing the proper augmentations in his arm and with a considerable amount of charge Jesse can fire off an ethereally enhanced rail-cannon shot using the micro rail carried upon his back. This devastating attack requires at least a few minutes of preparation thus making it more of a pre-planned effort but results in a devastating amount of destruction.

As a last ditch move Jesse can also quickly enhance his trusty hand cannon in a similar manner to fire one devastating close range shot typically held for desperate situations as the resulting ethereal toll leaves Jesse exhausted and vulnerable.

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Loadout

Legacy \\ Jesse’s trusty hand cannon has been his lifelong companion. Modified and tuned to be compatible only with the augmented arms he possesses as well as a few other nifty additions. The rounds are massive, capable of boring holes through multiple assailants with nothing but their mass, and enhanced by an onboard nano-enhancement system that allows the wielder to fire one of three types of special rounds as well as ordinary slugs.

Nitro rounds \\ Slugs modified to increase velocity and accelerate towards their target with rocket assisted propulsion after leaving the barrel of the gun.

Explosive rounds \\ Packed with explosive chemicals, creates small pinpoint explosions at point of contact.

Acid rounds \\ Loaded with an acidic compound that shatters and spreads upon the struck target.

Micro Rail \\ A bare bones rail cannon system that lacks any sort of power or ammunition on its own. Utilizes augmented technology in Jesse’s arms as well as the nano-enhancement system already utilized by Legacy in combination to form a devastating charged rail cannon. The micro rail requires at least a few minutes of setup to properly utilize.

Augmented Arms & Legs \\ As a result of his extensive military service as an experimental soldier Jesse has lost many parts of his original body. Multiple surgeries have resulted in the replacement of most of his vital organs as well as all four of his limbs and the entirety of his spinal column. These augmentations not only enhance his natural strength and resilience but have also increased his resistance to diseases and his natural vitality has also benefited. Although he is technically eighty-seven he looks more like he’s in his forties and moves as if he were in his twenties.

Actions Of Interest

For most of his life Jesse has been actively involved in some combat engagement or another, until his time with the OSFL he was considered more of a mercenary in it strictly for the money. Afterwards although he operated under various allegiances in the years to follow he was never the type that had any qualms with killing anyone that was required of him. Numerous souls owe the snuffing of their life to Jesse, both guilty and innocent.

Symphony on High

Dead Head

”Spit Fire”

---

Asher smirked as the bunny girl casually threw a molotov and took her eyes off of him, the arrogance obvious in her intent. She was brushing him off, a big mistake. But Asher wasn’t one to steal the show, and lightning guy was already cookin’. The moment Bobo’s eyes left Asher clapped his hands together and they started to glow as he began forming a melody, time wasn’t necessarily on his side but if things paid off it might turn the swing of things. Asher’s eyes drifted towards Justin as he fell through the air and his melody fired off towards its intended target.

Don’t blow it buddy, putting my chips on you

Asher’s shield enhanced shield note soared towards Justin in an effort to intercept him and enhance his attempt at attacking Bobo from an aerial angle. It was a desperate gambit but Asher was also trying to find a way to close the distance and not inadvertently cause the other Esper injury.

With the melody fired off Asher had to focus back on himself and the molotov flying through the air. Without time to think or check Asher threw himself to the side the moment the melody left his hand. His aim was to flop out of range of the Molotov and present the smallest target possible for follow up attacks. If he was lucky enough to avoid the fire he’d lunge back to his feet and make an effort to close the gap between him and the balcony. Should he be unlucky and not avoid the radius of the molotov, well he was already going to be two out of three steps into stop drop and roll, he’d have to hope for the best.

---

Dah Info

32 | Male | Freelancer | Dead Head
Hatred | Long Gun | Physical | Dragons Breath
Rage | Fire | Ignition
[Ignite, Heat] Damage X, Damage, AoE, Puddle, Sky Call, Powerful, Scatter, Shield, Blink
DAMAGE: A | SPEED: B | SENTINEL: E | Max Mana 750

[Silver beam][Powerful][Shield] - 84

PHYSICAL:E | ARCANE:C | CHAOS:D | Prior Mana 342 | Current Mana 258

Symphony on High

Dead Head

”Spit Fire”

---

Asher was surveying the room for his next target and taking in the state of his associates when the flashbang went off in a blinding cacophony of light and sound. Of course Asher caught the full brunt given his wide view of things. Briefly incapacitated he quickly ducked low to the ground and threw a hand up to cover his head whilst instinctively hardening his skin. Unable to see or hear while being out in the open wasn’t Asher’s idea of a good time. Doing his best to remember the layout of the room and using the smell of charred flesh as a waypoint Asher scuttled across the floor away from the balcony while he waited for his eyes and ears to readjust.

As sight and sound returned Asher sought a more sturdy sort of cover via one of the stone columns while peeking out to get a view of the room once more. His eyes were drawn towards the balcony he’d once been beneath where the fire wielding bunny was currently assailing the lighting guy. A grin took form as he started formulating a plan for taking the high ground. Bonus points were on the line here, Asher had to inject some more style and flair into this fight quickly before things started to really turn out drab.

---

Dah Info

32 | Male | Freelancer | Dead Head
Hatred | Long Gun | Physical | Dragons Breath
Rage | Fire | Ignition
[Ignite, Heat] Damage X, Damage, AoE, Puddle, Sky Call, Powerful, Scatter, Shield, Blink
DAMAGE: A | SPEED: B | SENTINEL: E | Max Mana 750

[Silver Self][Shield] - 48

PHYSICAL:E | ARCANE:C | CHAOS:D | Prior Mana 390 | Current Mana 342

Symphony on High

Dead Head

”Spit Fire”

---

Asher was starting to get angry, he kept having these radical awesome plans that would look totally amazing, and for some reason they just kept not panning out the way he wanted. A well adjusted individual might ponder to themselves the causes, perhaps expectations were to blame, or even forces out of Asher's control. Perhaps there was nothing deeper than chance involved, or perhaps some unseen hand guiding out events in a way that saw Asher as nothing more significant than any other piece of this world, perhaps just bad luck.

Well, Asher wasn’t well adjusted.

The constant hitches and ways that things weren’t going the way he wanted were starting to piss him off. That last attack should have cleaned that man’s clock, instead he’d had the audacity to block Asher’s blow from landing where he’d wanted. Even worse, he tried to kick him! The grubby fucker had actually kicked him in the stomach. Of course it didn’t really do much, but still! The man seemed to be going for an underbarrel attachment, most likely a grenade launcher. Clearly he thought that explosives might be more useful against Asher’s sturdy frame. Likewise, Asher figured fire might work better on his squishy frame, and so it was time for a barbecue.

“It’s time to burn, bitch!” he growled out before opening his mouth wide.

It was almost as if the sun arose in the center of the room as a jet of fire shot from Asher’s mouth akin to a dragon. Anyone nearby would feel the intense heat that radiated from Asher as he torched the man. Asher directed the stream with the goal of painting him from head to toe in the deadly flames. For good measure Asher whipped his head around to torch the wounded man who’d taken Asher’s earlier two shots. With business taken care of Asher wiped his mouth and licked his lips as he took in a deep breath through his nose, “Smells like the 4th of July.”

Cool quip out of the way, Asher turned to check the situation throughout the rest of the room, seeking to locate his allies. Or well, he didn’t really know them but given the circumstances allies was a pretty good phrase.

---

Dah Info

32 | Male | Freelancer | Dead Head
Hatred | Long Gun | Physical | Dragons Breath
Rage | Fire | Ignition
[Ignite, Heat] Damage X, Damage, AoE, Puddle, Sky Call, Powerful, Scatter, Shield, Blink
DAMAGE: A | SPEED: B | SENTINEL: E | Max Mana 750

[Silver projectille][damage x][ignite]-180

PHYSICAL:E | ARCANE:C | CHAOS:D | Prior Mana 570 | Current Mana 390

Symphony on High

Dead Head

”Spit Fire”

---

So maybe Asher’s idea hadn’t quite panned out the way he thought it would, but that was okay, Asher wasn’t known for thinking. What Asher was known for was high octane action, non-stop adrenaline, horrendous manners, wild partying, and a need to look absolutely badass while doing all of it. Asher wasn’t stuck dealing with two dudes with guns, they were left dealing with him, and he could be one scary ass mutha fucka.

Even so, it would have been sick if that initial move had panned out the way he’d envisioned in his head. Oh well, he didn’t have much time to concern himself with failure as two party crashers quickly sprang down from overhead to ruin his fun. Or at least that was their goal. Little did they know they’d just opened a mystery can packed full of whoop ass courtesy of one Dead Head.

Asher’s voice seemed to take on an even deeper more metallic reverberation as he let loose a howl quite nearly as loud as a fog horn. The carbon frame that was his body took on a deeper darker sheen as he hardened it even further than before. Small bumps and rivets that had been present before transformed into short hardened spikes. Smoke seemed to puff from his ears as flames and intense heat seemed to radiate from his mouth and nose. The red glow from his eye grew deeper and brighter, almost striking out like the beam from a lighthouse. But this light in the dark wasn’t leading to any sort of safety.

Rather conveniently, a spirit cat sprung into existence between Asher and his two assailants. Choosing that moment to snap into action Asher lunged at the first man whilst firing off two shots from Hatred in the direction of the other. Although he’d hoped one might find purchase he’d not been too bothered about aiming, mostly using it as a means of forcing the other man to take cover so he could close the gap and tear his partner to shreds. Asher focused back to the first man as he closed the gap, relying on his carbon to resist any stray shots he might get off. Asher gripped Hatred with both hands and swung it out in a high arc with the goal of knocking the gunman over the head.

---

Dah Info

32 | Male | Freelancer | Dead Head
Hatred | Long Gun | Physical | Dragons Breath
Rage | Fire | Ignition
[Ignite, Heat] Damage X, Damage, AoE, Puddle, Sky Call, Powerful, Scatter, Shield, Blink
DAMAGE: A | SPEED: B | SENTINEL: E | Max Mana 750

[Silver self][powerful][Shield] - 60

PHYSICAL:E | ARCANE:C | CHAOS:D | Prior Mana 630 | Current Mana 570

Symphony on High

Dead Head

”Spit Fire”

---

“Spit fire, dripping from my lips
Take me higher in the mix
Let it rock, let it rock
Let it rock until you drop”

---

In the end no one decided to fill Asher in with the details of their meeting. That was okay though, someone else was happy to fill him in with bullets, although Asher himself didn’t quite find that okay. The moment bullets and fire started flying through the air Asher dove low for a row of pews, crashing to the ground shoulder first as he slid between the row. Taking a moment to breathe, Asher was sure he’d achieved some sort of safety momentarily, but certainly didn’t plan on hiding out for long. Fishing in his pocket for his phone Asher quickly started swiping through the interface.

A storm of fire and bullets required the ultimate soundtrack, and Asher had just the one in mind. Conveniently Asher had never removed his earbuds and as he tapped play the music quickly began drowning out the sounds of the chaos around him, at least partially. For the most part Asher could still hear what was going on, he just had a sick ass soundtrack to go along with it all. With a grin Asher took a moment to focus, hardening the carbon shell that made up his outer body, perks of being a metallic mega badass. Hopefully no one had noticed him ducking down behind the pews, if not this next part would be sick.

Lunging to his feet and hopping atop the pew Asher quickly brandished Hatred in his hands. Taking a moment to survey his surroundings Asher quickly decided on a plan of action. The girl from outside as well as the Sovereign girl were both near their package, as well as a newcomer. Entrusting the three to handle themselves in a three versus one situation Asher quickly decided that bunny girl and her band of tube eyed goons were the biggest threat. Letting loose a battle cry that would make the denizens of Valhalla pause, Asher began leaping from pew to pew before lunging into the air and blasting Hatred’s Dragon’s Breath directly behind him towards the pews he’d just left behind.

With luck the blast would send him clear into the closest clump of tubular goons, let carnage ensue.

---

Dah Info

32 | Male | Freelancer | Dead Head
Hatred | Long Gun | Physical | Dragons Breath
Rage | Fire | Ignition
[Ignite, Heat] Damage X, Damage, AoE, Puddle, Sky Call, Powerful, Scatter, Shield, Blink
DAMAGE: A | SPEED: B | SENTINEL: E | Max Mana 750

[Silver self][Shield] - 48

PHYSICAL:E | ARCANE:C | CHAOS:D | Prior Mana 678 | Current Mana 630

Symphony on High

Dead Head

Doing it wrong

---

As the door flew open, sending burnt timber flying, Asher let out a slight whoop as he pumped his arm in excitement. "See that!" he exclaimed loudly to no one in particular. Judging by the reactions of the two girls on the other side, they had. The first one had momentarily pointed her gun at him, assuming him to potentially be a threat. The second gave him a disinterested and almost bored look before asking what the door had done to earn his ire. Judging by positioning and their reactions Asher assumed the smaller one in the back was who they were contracted to protect. Good thing no miscellaneous door parts had flown her way.

"As a matter of fact it did look at me funny, I don't take kindly to funny looks or the things it said about my mother either." he said, throwing who he assumed to be Cerberus a sarcastic smirk. "Can't help it, I've got a need for fiery entrances that just needs fillin, now who's gonna fill me in on why we're meeting in the creepy run down church?" Asher asked, casually strolling on deeper past Cerberus and the other girl as he began taking in the church in all it's aged grandeur.

Before Asher could circle back with more questions Sovereign strolled up to Cerberus and at first Asher thought that perhaps she was upset judging by her tone. This was quickly debunked when she suddenly embraced the other girl. Asher made a mental note to keep an eye on Sovereign, hopefully he wouldn't have to explain his aversion to being touched but wouldn't be a bad idea to keep on his toes. With nothing else to do but wait Asher crossed his arms and looked towards the first two occupants of the room expectantly.

Symphony on High

Dead Head

Doing it wrong

---

Asher was initially confused, a quizzical look crossing his face. This was only amplified by the arrival of another boisterous fellow who loudly proclaimed his confusion at the idea of a convention before making a reference towards Asher as a potential foe, guessing that his name might be 'Deadeye'. Asher couldn't help but be amused, throwing his head back as he started cackling, which sounded mostly robotic in his Esper form and likely didn't help with the image he was giving off.

Abruptly Asher hawked and spat a small globule of fire almost like one would a loogie. Flashing a grin at the two newcomers he pointed at himself with his thumb, "Name's Dead Head. Bit new 'round these parts. Now I don't know nothing bout no convention, reckon I might be in the wrong place if that's the case. But I also reckon that's just not the case, unless there's two St. Biance's churches. As for named opponent, well I could always appreciate a warm-up round but I don't think I'm the reason you're here so I'd imagine there's actual business to be getting to right behind that there door."

With that Asher redirected his attention back to the door, deciding quickly on his plan of approach.

"Now unless there's an objections, I'm fixin to go 'knock'." Asher said, nodding in the direction of the large rusted shut difficult to open door that just seemed to be asking for the business end of Asher's size 12.

Dah Info

32 | Male | Freelancer | Dead Head
Hatred | Long Gun | Physical | Dragons Breath
Rage | Fire | Ignition
[Ignite, Heat] Damage X, Damage, AoE, Puddle, Sky Call, Powerful, Scatter, Shield, Blink
DAMAGE: A | SPEED: B | SENTINEL: E | Max Mana 750

[Silver touch][Damage X] - 72

PHYSICAL:E | ARCANE:C | CHAOS:D | Current Mana 678

Symphony on High

Dead Head

Doing it wrong

---

If everything I do is wrong, then by God, I do it right
If everything I do is wrong, then by God, I do it right
If everything I do is wrong, then by God, I do it right
If everything I do is wrong, then by God, I do it right"

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A light evening breeze rolled down the street past Asher carrying scents of the city, exhaust fumes, a slight hint of garbage on the breeze even. Asher frowned slightly, surprised by that since he’d not gotten the impression that Pax Septimus was a dirty city. A light screech filled the air momentarily cutting through the clashing chords and screaming vocals from Asher’s earpods. Asher turned to survey the dump truck that had just backed out of an alley he’d passed just as the engine started to rumble and the stinky truck trundled down the lane.

A smirk crossed Asher’s lips as the slightly garbagy smell departed with the truck and he took a deep breath of the cool evening air, just him and the exhaust fumes now. Fishing through his pocket for his cell phone Asher quickly hit pause on his music and scrolled to shimmr to double check the address of the job. All the details matched up, and a large church loomed ahead.

St Bianchi Church stood before Asher in all its run down glory. Better days had certainly been long since gone as far as this establishment was concerned. Asher merely grumbled, he’d never cared much for churches, or religion for that matter. Usually he joked that entering such a premise might result in him catching alight. Suppose today would be the day to test that. Asher surveyed the outside a few moments longer, taking in potential entry points and judging them against the amount of effort they’d require.

“Windows, back way maybe…,” Asher mumbled aloud before his eyes finally settled on the front door. “On the other hand…”

Asher was a simple man and in most cases he preferred the direct route.

Symphony on High

Dead Head

"Now I’m Pissed!"

Dead Head

NAME:

”Name’s Asher, Asher Blake. Who’s askin?”

AGE:

”32 years young, baby. But I don’t look a day over 21.”

SEX:

”Do what? Oh, I’m a dude, clearly.”

APPEARANCE:

“Yeah? Sure I don’t mind posing for a few photos, make sure you get my good side.”

Non-Esper

GRIMIORE:

The grimiore itself comes in the form of a metal pouch with 4 different colored marbles inside,

INSTRUMENT:

Nothing quite says “knock knock” like Asher’s iconic SPAS-12, dubbed Hatred. Hatred is a solid black SPAS-12 with an angry red dragon painted on it in a manner that makes it wrap around the gun and positions its head so that it appears the dragon is roaring when the gun is fired. The upper rail features a set of hardened spikes running along the edges that give it a punky aesthetic to match Asher. It also features a strap that stretches from barrel to stock for convenience. Rather than standard buckshot Hatred fires slugs of solid metal that pack one hell of a wallop. When at a nice close distance Asher can also use Hatred’s special ability to fire off a short range burst of magical fire that’s nearly guaranteed to catch anything on fire on a direct hit.

GRADE: Gold
KEYWORD: Long Gun
DAMAGE TYPE: Physical
DAMAGE: A
SPEED: B
SENTINEL: E
SPECIAL: Dragons Breath allows Hatred to fire off a short burst of magical fire in a close proximity. This acts as an ignite cast but only at short range, around 6 feet.

STYLE:

Carbon Fiber

Grade: Silver
PHYSICAL: E
ARCANE: B
CHAOS: C
SPECIAL: Upon taking esper form Asher’s body becomes mostly made from carbon fiber where possible, shedding weight and allowing him an extra degree of reaction time when attempting to dodge attacks.

GENRE:

Indomitable Rage

Asher’s rage has become a force of nature, an indomitable force of will that seeks to pummel any form of opposition and brush off any who dare attempt to quell the inferno. Fires of retribution and vengeance made corporeal seek to protect those who can’t protect themselves by leaving no opposing force standing.

GRADE: Gold
ELEMENT: Fire
NOTES: [Ignite, Fervor] Damage X, Damage, AoE, Puddle, Sky Call, Powerful, Scatter, Shield, Blink, Full Extend, Purify, Restrain
SPECIAL: Flames of Retribution // When choosing to eat an attack meant for someone else Asher may cast Fervor automatically, IF choosing to retaliate against the attacker in his next attack any melody or physical attack is raised by 1 rank, mana costs for fervor and the following melody are halved.

LEITMOTIF:

Eye of Malice

Bronze grade
Asher’s left eye stands out from the other when transformed, slightly larger and more intimidating with a deeper red emanating from it.

PR:

As far as accessories go Asher only carries a pistol and a baseball bat, for more delicate situations.

BACKUP:

N/A

FACTION:

”I only work for myself, ain’t nobody the boss of me!”

TRIVIA:

”What? Do you want my life story or something? Piss off!”

For the last 15 years the average day in the life of Asher Blake has been filled with debauchery, high octane metal, dangerous stunts, and a live fast die young attitude. Lead Vocalist of the band always did come with its perks, and Asher was never one to not take advantage of the situation. He and a group of friends formed Dead Head in their junior year, choosing to drop out and pursue a musical career over traditional forms of education. It only took a couple of years before the group found a groove in their local scene and although it was modest it was a start. Through dedication and commitment over the next few years Dead Head managed to grow more and more renown as they slowly grew into an ever more prominent force.

By his mid 20s Asher Blake was well and truly a rock star. Dead Head toured the nation and consistently sold out venues time and time again. But with all things, as time goes things change and people want different things. Dead Head, once a rising star, was now coming to a natural point in its life where its members sought change, different experiences, and a chance to grow. Much to the dismay of its fanbase, Dead Head split up when Asher was 28.

Without any plans and an obscene amount of money Asher wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. For the first couple of years the partying was enough but it didn’t really bring Asher any fulfillment. It wasn’t until a rather raucous block party that Asher found his calling.

Disaster struck. An uninvited guest, a gruesome monster from the chaos realm. Debris and destruction rain around Asher. The crowd screams and runs to and fro unsure of who or what has caused the chaos. As he watched everyone around him running, terrified for their lives, something within him stirred. A strong connection reached out to him.

The crowd almost seemed to part around him as he neared it. A shotgun, a standard pump action at first appearance but the longer Asher stared at it the more he could feel that just below the surface it’s true self lay waiting for him alone to take. As Asher gripped the weapon the dam burst, the emotions roiling in him grew astronomically as the anger within him almost took physical form. Bursting forth from him and the weapon it swirled around him in a storm of lights and magical energy. Spreading forth from his hand at the point of contact his skin slowly transformed into carbon fiber. Energy coursed through Asher’s body as his anger roared to life like a high powered engine.

Just as quickly as the energy burst forth from him it also returned, swirling about him until it finally coalesced into a burning heat that seemed to radiate from his body. Asher gripped the shotgun, racked a shell, and set his eyes upon the source of the chaos. It was time to whoop some ass.