Finbarr looked at himself, as eating the lemon bar had apparently caused him to unconsciously activate his Shapeshifting magic. It was a complete accident, and had it he kept on switching forms, he would be extremely embarrassed for himself and everyone else. After all, he did lack control and consistency when his own sweet tooth had been stimulated, and it took a lot for him not to turn to a rat next. However, he was perched on Tarak's shoulder, which was a welcome thing, as he was quite affectionate for the one that stood up as their merry company's big brother.
What happened next, however, was... uh... weird. First thing that happened was that a man, drunk out of his mind, reeking of alcohol, and probably in his early 30's, came out of the shadows, looking at everyone before talking with a very noticeable slur in his voice. This was going to be a very fun ride it seemed.
And then... an alien woman came out of the same corner that the drunk had arrived from, and began to pet his head vigorously. Worse still was that Tarak straight up gave him to the lady, perhaps as a joke, but either way, he was not comfortable with being pet by someone who he barely knew. A moment of respite came, though, and he jumped out of her hands.
Sneezing with his cat nose a few times, Finbarr's feline form was then enveloped by grey smoke once again before back into a human again. Coughing, he turned away and chucked something out. "This is why I don't eat candy...", Finbarr snickered, absent mindedly hugging Samuel from behind for no apparent reason. "Oh..."
Trajan Salazar | Sharpeye
Trajan looked back at Laurey with droopy eyes as the latter threw him a lemon bar. Drunk as he was, he wasn't able to catch the snack, falling upon the ground. Not discouraged, he stooped down and chucked the thing into his mouth either way, much to the probable surprise as everyone who saw it. "What?", he would ask with a mouth that was still in the midst of chewing. If five seconds hadn't passed yet, you can still eat it."
Setting the bottle down at a nearby table, Trajan looked back at the Star Marines. They were young alright; it was witnessing them being sent to battle that made him leave the army, and despite all of his drunken madness, he couldn't help but think about what kind of horrors they had faced. He was, after all, a sniper, and was not consigned to the death and destruction that frontline troops endured. Either way, he walked forward.
"You're so, so tall.", he said to Tarak, looking up to the young man that was nearly a decade younger than him. Looking towards Narvia, he put both hands on the crying girl's shoulders. "Oh no... dear... it's okay. Just pet the kitten... oh... it's a boy..."
Finally, the knight met his mark, striking the side of Madjick's head with his cement covered sword, knocking the hero down to the ground. Madjick fell towards the cold alleyway's concrete, landing on his shoulder with a rather loud thud. However, he was still conscious, and grumbled as he tried to get up. He couldn't, though, as he was already tired from his work all day, and trying to bring this self righteous crusader in had sapped the rest of his strength. Instead, he just lay there, the hands that he wielded being rendered inert and silent as Ray just breathed heavily. His head was, after all, swimming in pain from getting struck with a sword covered in rock. Knowing that neither of them were interested in killing the other, he just spoke to the knight.
"You.. huff... win tonight.", Madjick coughed as he finally got up and then lazily leaned back against a nightlight post. Quietly, the hands went away as Ray receded into a fetal position, tired from their brief altercation. "Just know that next time... there will be no more holding back." With that, he motioned for Templar to go with his head. Ray supposed that he could let this one slide for now, but next time, he won't be alone, nor would he hold back.
"Kotie? Yeah... I need somewhere to crash tonight. Can you fetch me here...?"
Alexander listened rather intently to what the two experts on magic said to all of them, hand on his chin and the other on the phone, taking down notes. From what he could gather, the Spectre was probably an Apparition, given that it was a strange being composed purely out of magical energy and not from flesh and blood. Though, no one would really expect something called the Spectre to be a creature made from organic material, given that its namesake was a ghost of legend. At least these two magical experts were giving them a crash course on magic, just as he had requested, giving a lot of clarity to what he had been experiencing in the last few weeks. The curse of stone, the Spectre taking a liking to him, his power to bring back the ghosts of the dead, and all that jazz.
Of course, there was that annoying kid in the middle of them... what was his name again? Junior? Junior Alexander? Ah, hell. What a shame for this petulant child to bear the same name as him; even when Alex was 13, he wasn't such an insufferable dot. Nadoyedlivyy durak." Alex grumbled lowly as the exposition about magic continued in earnest, though Oscar seemed to be taking quite a few calls... and it wasn't long before he looked at their guests with suspicion. Anything wrong now?
And then these two others came in. Did these guys have twin siblings each?"
Of course, that wasn't the case, as the fake Justin released a wave of water now that their cover was blown. It happened at such a speed that Alexander wasn't able to turn intangible in time in order to neutralize the effects of the surge, but he was already leaning on the wall, lessening the impact of the attack on him. He was, however, very much displeased as his clothes just got wet. Shivering slightly, Alexander glared at the imposters, who had just opened a portal. A pair of chains, glowing with green eldritch magic coursing through their metal, materialized from his bracelets, before lashing them out against the fake Thuyen in an attempt to capture her by wrapping the chains around her body.
As Natasha explained their mission at hand, Finbarr stood at attention, carefully taking in the information that they were being given privy to. Apparently, a prison ship crashed upon an agri world... somewhere, and it was rather unlikely that anyone survived planetfall. Finbarr would have snorted at the prospect of going to a ship with nothing but corpses inside it, as he thought that something like that was completely wierd and pointless.
That is, until Natasha told them that were was an artificial intelligence in the wreckage, a digital mind that would have no doubt survived the crash, unlike its fleshbag counterparts, who would have had no luck.
And there was the route for them to discuss.
"I guess that the shorter route will save us time, which is what we need in this situation.", Finbarr said right after Nero, though he nudged the other kid at the side, as he seemed to be too enthusiastic about killing. Ending life is not something Finbarr really liked. After all, he was very sweet.
Speaking of sweet...
"Bloody hell, lemon bars?", Finbarr drooled as the limbed Kaisoken crewmate presented the sweets to them. It was odd, that a Kaisoken that was literally called Kinslayer was a happy baker too.
Taking a bite, there would be a moment of satisfaction before Finbarr began turned to a white smoke... leaving only a cat in his place. And he was perched on Tarak's shoulder.
Trajan Salazar | Sharpeye
More...
Trajan leaned back at his reclining chair, bottle at hand. His mind was on fire at the moment; there was this twisting kaleidoscope of a thousand colors, flying around his imagination like a unicorn on a psychedelic field trip. And then... there was a field of flowers, mostly crysanthemums, where a lady was waiting for him, it seemed.
Excited, Trajan stood up and began to run into her waiting arms. He seemed so happy, so filled with joy, that one would not think that he was-
smack
Pain filled his head as he looked back at the cold, metal wall. Trajan sighed, as he had been kicked back into the sad realm of reality. He was a sniper, formerly one that shot things in accordance to the commands of the Ascendancy, and now, part of the resistance that aimed to throw the whole regime down to the ground.
What was that? Ah, right. They had guests today; guests that would stay on for a long period of time. They were children and teenagers, the same magical warriors whose existence had spurred Trajan to quit from the Ascendancy army.
And they want revenge.
Lazily getting up from the floor, Trajan took hold of his bottle and walked towards where the voices had converged. Natasha and Abaddon seemed to be there, along with their newfound allies. It didn't take him long to arrive, though when he did come, Trajan slumped against a wall, still taking sips from the bottle that he was holding. "Oh, hey guys.", he said to everyone with a noticeable slur, not seeming to notice that one of the kids turned to a cat. "Howsssssss it going...?"
Name: Trajan Pyke Salazar Age: 31 Physical Description: Important items: - Revolving Blade Sword: A superheated rotating blade capable of slashing through the metal of most body armors. The sword is constructed similarly to a chainsaw, wherein small blades (also known as teeth) circulate around the length of the blade; the main difference is that heat is used to further the effectiveness of the sword, making it even sharper.
- Hecate 41 Sniper Rifle: Trajan's trusty companion throughout his career as an assassin. It is highly accurate, has clips of up to 12 shots per reload cycle, and uses a rather sophisticated targeting scope.
- Winchester 2700: A shotgun that fires shells loaded with a plasma spread, which ignites combustible materials upon impact. Some say that it is a shotgun that acts as a flamethrower.
- Stealth Suit: A suit that allows its user to cloak temporarily. It is still detected by thermal scanners and sensing magic. Short Bio: Trajan was born on the same world as Tarak of the Star Marines. He was brought into existence by a case of rape in the back alleys of the undercity; his male primogenitor was just another of the drug addicted tramps that stalked the streets.
This isn't something that he knows about, however.
The man that would act as his father, at least for the first ten years of his life, was the fiance of his mother, who did not care if this child was seeded by some pervert; for him, this kid will be his. So, for the first 12 years of his life, Trajan had a normal, if not hard life. He attended primary school at day, and then worked at night, helping his (adoptive) father with his job in the port.
That was, until they died.
One day, a group of armed men crashed into their house, if one could a couple of rooms a house. They called out for Trajan's father, demanding that he pay his debt to their boss. Apparently, he had gotten into some bad company, and was screwed over when a bunged up attempt at gambling caused him to owe an impossible amount of money to the local gangster lord. This was the seventh time that they had demanded for payment, and this time, the cost will be his life.
Trajan, who was 15 at the time, was ordered by his parents to run. Run as far away as he could, as the two of them cannot escape the fate that had been placed unto them. And thus, he ran. He ran and ran until he fell unto the street, unconscious, but alive.
He would wake up hours later, as the faces of several other teenagers and kids looked back at him. They had found him there, half dead from exhaustion. But now, he was... well, an orphan. In an orphanage. It was a terrible place, far worse than the hard life that Trajan had endured so far. During his stay there, he would befriend the children. Especially this one boy named Tarak...
Barely a year later, the orphanage burned. Trajan had been taken by a foster family the day before that, but when he heard of the place going up in flames, he begged his new family to take him there. They obliged, and though he looked everywhere he could, there was one he could not find. Tarak. For all he could know, he was probably dead.
His new foster family, the Salazars, were wealthy, and gave him a second chance at life. Trajan would soon enough wear the name with pride, though he never forget his first family: Pyke. Trajan Salazar would prove to be a rather intelligent boy, and by the time he was in his mid20's, was on track to become a soldier of the Ascendancy. During his training, Trajan was seen to have the makings of a sniper; a watchful assassin, waiting in the shadows for the kill. He was thus placed on the Sniper Brigade at the onset of the war against the Coalition, where he would garner high body count in the five years of war. However, he had also been watching as the child soldiers were sent out against their enemy. Where, he asked, did the Ascendancy pulled the sheer indecency and immoral mind to subject children to the horrors of war?
To this end, he concluded that the Ascendancy was a corrupt institution that must be brought down. He went AWOL from the army, and now serves as the sniper with the alias Sharpeye within Moonstrike. Character Traits:
Sharpshooter of Death: Formerly part of one of the most notorious sniper squads in the Ascendant Army, Trajan is a masterful sniper, possessing the patience and breath control that an excellent sharpshooter needs. It goes without saying that he is one of the best for shooting someone from a distance, in the head.
Warrior: Trajan is good with all kinds of weapons, though the sniper rifle is simply his best and favorite. He can be counted on to use blades or guns with equal skill, and could take care of himself in all ranges.
Name: Trajan Pyke Salazar Age: 31 Physical Description: Important items: 1. Revolving Blade Sword: A superheated rotating blade capable of slashing through the metal of most body armors. The sword is constructed similarly to a chainsaw, wherein small blades (also known as teeth) circulate around the length of the blade; the main difference is that heat is used to further the effectiveness of the sword, making it even sharper.
2. Hecate 41 Sniper Rifle: Trajan's trusty companion throughout his career as an assassin. It is highly accurate, has clips of up to 12 shots per reload cycle, and uses a rather sophisticated targeting scope.
3. Winchester 2700: A shotgun that fires shells loaded with a plasma spread, which ignites combustible materials upon impact. Some say that it is a shotgun that acts as a flamethrower.
4. Stealth Suit: A suit that allows its user to cloak temporarily. It is still detected by thermal scanners and sensing magic. Short Bio: Trajan was born on the same world as Tarak of the Star Marines. He was brought into existence by a case of rape in the back alleys of the undercity; his male primogenitor was just another of the drug addicted tramps that stalked the streets.
This isn't something that he knows about, however.
The man that would act as his father, at least for the first ten years of his life, was the fiance of his mother, who did not care if this child was seeded by some pervert; for him, this kid will be his. So, for the first 12 years of his life, Trajan had a normal, if not hard life. He attended primary school at day, and then worked at night, helping his (adoptive) father with his job in the port.
That was, until they died.
One day, a group of armed men crashed into their house, if one could a couple of rooms a house. They called out for Trajan's father, demanding that he pay his debt to their boss. Apparently, he had gotten into some bad company, and was screwed over when a bunged up attempt at gambling caused him to owe an impossible amount of money to the local gangster lord. This was the seventh time that they had demanded for payment, and this time, the cost will be his life.
Trajan, who was 15 at the time, was ordered by his parents to run. Run as far away as he could, as the two of them cannot escape the fate that had been placed unto them. And thus, he ran. He ran and ran until he fell unto the street, unconscious, but alive.
He would wake up hours later, as the faces of several other teenagers and kids looked back at him. They had found him there, half dead from exhaustion. But now, he was... well, an orphan. In an orphanage. It was a terrible place, far worse than the hard life that Trajan had endured so far. During his stay there, he would befriend the children. Especially this one boy named Tarak...
Barely a year later, the orphanage burned. Trajan had been taken by a foster family the day before that, but when he heard of the place going up in flames, he begged his new family to take him there. They obliged, and though he looked everywhere he could, there was one he could not find. Tarak. For all he could know, he was probably dead.
His new foster family, the Salazars, were wealthy, and gave him a second chance at life. Trajan would soon enough wear the name with pride, though he never forget his first family: Pyke. Trajan Salazar would prove to be a rather intelligent boy, and by the time he was in his mid20's, was on track to become a soldier of the Ascendancy. During his training, Trajan was seen to have the makings of a sniper; a watchful assassin, waiting in the shadows for the kill. He was thus placed on the Sniper Brigade at the onset of the war against the Coalition, where he would garner a thousand kills in the five years of war. However, he had also been watching as the child soldiers were sent out against their enemy. Where, he asked, did the Ascendancy pulled the sheer indecency and immoral mind to subject children to the horrors of war?
To this end, he concluded that the Ascendancy was a corrupt institution that must be brought down. He went AWOL from the army, and now serves as the sniper with the alias Sharpeye within Moonstrike. Exceptional Skill List: 8 Skills.
A year had passed since the death of James Vanburen; an event that Alexander could neither confirm nor deny to be something that he had been waiting for to happen for a long time now. He had no love for the old man, at least after James had left him and his mother, Svetlana, to fend for themselves back in New York City. Everything that was wrong with his life, Alexander said, had something to do with that fateful day that James went away for another of his uncountable affairs, the volume of which would without a shadow of a doubt put even the great Genghis Khan himself to absolute shame. It would seem that he wanted to impregnate the entire world, to spread his genes far and wide. Alexander dared not to imagine how many affairs that this man had consummated over the six decades of his life; he would have had a rather long line of mistresses and failed marriages and so and so forth. At least that was what Alexander, or, Sasha would say when asked about his father. He would say that he was the single greatest mass impregantor that America has ever known.
For the last few weeks, the curse of stone that the death of his promiscuous father had triggered forced him to stay in this city. It was a far cry from the bustling urban sprawl that he had known for most of his life, as he was a New Yorker through and through. Araminta was very small compared it his past residence, though it did offer somewhat of an idyllic existence. He was no stranger to the cold, and actually revelled in it. Either way, he had a whole apartment suite set up in the inner parts of the city, where he would hold his lessons for the children and teens that he was going to tutor. Too bad this place did not have a big orchestra...
"Alexander Karamazov. Though I guess techbically everyone else in here is a sister or brother of mine."
Alexander watched from the corner that he had been leaning on, looking at his half brothers and sisters with an inscrutable expression. He did not know them as much as he would like, as most of those that he had known throughout his life so far were back in New York. It was quite difficult to tell those friends why he had to leave; none had anything like the Spectre flying around them. It wasn't like they were sired by an eccentric billionaire with a relentless compulsion to cause pregnancies. None would think to believe that Alexander needed to transfer to some unknown town because he was turning to rock.
Either way, Alexander was someone that the other Vanburens did not know very well, though the children did see him as a spoiler. At this time, he wore a black leather jacket with a grey shirt inside, matching black pants, white sneakers, and the pair of gloves he always has on. Plus he smelled of pizza.
Alexander did, however, respond to Justin. "I'm afraid I don't know a lot about this magic. It lets us do... um, wierd things, but other than what the Spectre told me, no, I'm at a loss."
A pause. "Well, I suppose you can give us a crash course."
_______________________________________________ Alexander Karamazov Vanburen
Him/He | 28 | Russian-American | 5'8" | 165 lbs _______________________________________________ Inquisitive _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "What I have here is a symphony of melancholy sorrow and a crescendo of madness." ___________________________________
High Intellect Musician ⫻ Alexander is a skilled musician and composer, having been a first chair violinist, the pianist of his church, and an occasional singer. He has also composed multiple works, most of which are orchestral pieces, though he also plays covers of famous songs on his YouTube channel.
Unarmed Combatant ⫻ His late paranoid mother had him trained in self defense classes after a bout of school bullying. Thus, Alexander has been trained in a Krav Maga program. While by no means a master of it, he can hold well on his own.
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Bozhe moi. I look good."
Alexander considers himself humble and does not say it aloud, but there is no denying that he has an attractive look. He possesses blue eyes, though they seem to be grey from a different angle. To add to that, he has chestnut colored hair that he usually styles with a sideward wipe, though sometimes he just lets it grow long enough to cover his ears. At times, he would dye them white or grey, though his co workers usually disapprove of it, and he has thus usually refrained from doing so. Much of the time, he seems to be grumpy as he will not smile at strangers, but this is only because of his Russian upbringing, and could be noted to be rather boisterous when in the company of friends and family. He dresses well, usually having a black or grey jacket over a t-shirt of a color of his choosing. He is slightly below average in terms of height, though he likes it that way.
Alexander wears a necklace with a silver cross around his neck all of the time, and often keeps a pair of black leather gloves on his hands. On his wrists are a pair of segmented platinum bracelets.
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "What did I do to deserve this fate?"
MAIN GOAL ⫻ To be honest, Alexander is not sure what his goals are anymore. Sure, he does everything to help anyone that asks for his aid, but what does he want for himself? Maybe he'd like to finally find the love of his life.
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Alexander is an honest man, one that will not hesitate the truth even if it hurts. He believes that lies will always continue to fester as long as they are kept, and the results of their unraveling will become worse and worse. In addition, he is rather sentimental, and has indomitable loyalty to friends and family. Alex is quite devout, and often does the sign of the cross when in distress.
Despite being unable to tell a white lie to make anyone else feel better, he does believe in comforting others in time of need, even if his ways are less on the talking side, and more on simple listening, and, well, touch.
SEXUALITY ⫻ Straight. Seeks for love but has always failed in it.
FEARS ⫻ Alexander fears clowns. And heights. Seriously, however, he fears that his nightmares of losing the function of his hands would come true, as his entire livelihood and career are built upon them. He also fears going deaf.
REPUTATION ⫻ As one of the first children to be sired by James Vanburen, Alexander commands some measure of respect from the rest of the family, at least from those that know he existed. He is known to spoil the younger ones with chocolates and candy, and is well liked. At least until he talks about how much he dislikes their father.
THOUGHTS ABOUT FATHER ⫻ The last time that Alexander has seen his father was when he was just ten years old, when James abandoned him and his mother for another of his uncountable affairs. Thus, they have a nonexistent relationship, having only come to the funeral just to see if the old man was really dead. He blames James for everything wrong with his life; his mother's drug addiction, his incapability of finding a girlfriend, and… well, everything.
FLAWS ⫻ Alexander is quite straightforward in both speech and thinking. As such, he usually won’t understand most idioms, and would go as far as break them by explaining how one cannot jump upon a gun. In addition, he is quite impulsive, and may end up in trouble because of it. He also has frequent bouts of depression, which holds him back from getting better at what he does, or just accepting that he is already good at things.
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Oh, look. So many screwups."
Alexander Karamazov Vanburen was one of the first set of children that James Vanburen brought into existence. He was the child of a certain Svetlana Sergeyevna Karamazov, who met James while in a club. She was a Russian immigrant who had come to America right after the breakup of the Soviet Union, as the country had been thrown into civil and social unrest after the downfall of Communism. James’ charm was irresistible, and soon enough, she was pregnant. She gave birth to a boy, whom she named Alexander after her late father.
For all its worth, Alexander, most usually known by his Russian nickname of Sasha, knew James as his father. They had a decent dad-son relationship for the most part; it was nothing special, nor was there anything particularly terrible with it. That was, when James disappeared from their lives when Alexander was 10. He kept on asking where his dad went, only to be met with silence. Apparently, his mother did not know that she was not the first, or would she be the last. It didn’t take the boy long to realize that they had been abandoned, and over the years, he would grow to despise James Vanburen, going as far as using only his mother’s maiden surname in legal documents.
Since then, he would lead a mostly normal life in New York City, studying music in the university (it was in his high school days when he had those self defense classes). It was here that he found his passion for life; the keys of the piano, the strings of the violin, and the assembled voices of the choir. Eventually, he would become a professional musician, living an idyllic existence in a clean apartment. He was a violinist of the Chamber Orchestra of New York, the pianist of his church, and the owner of a YouTube channel that had garnered a moderate following of 120,000 subscribers. However, his mother had soon gone down the path of drug addiction. There was nothing more devastating for him than to see that the woman he loved the most go to rehab again and again. He blamed himself, as he hadn’t been a good son all these years, and then proceeded to blame James for leaving them. Then, she overdosed and died. This would be the driving force for Alexander to slide into a depressive state, though he was very good at hiding it from friends. After all, the pills that the psychiatrist had given him were doing their purpose well… for now.
Then he was informed by his half-siblings that their father was dead. Alexander had come to know that his father was one hell of a harem maker, and had met a few of his half brothers and sisters for some time before that. He had been on a lull of activity during that time; he had taken a few days of leave, and was just relaxing. He did not like his father at all, but he decided to come along anyway just to see if it was really true. It was.
For some reason, he was saddened by James’ passing, even if he told himself that he detested the old man. Sitting down on a couch with his anti-depressant pills on hand, he would find himself surrounded by shifting darkness, a cloud of black shrouding the entire room like a storm with no wind. Out of the shadows emerged a face; it was an Apparition. It fed upon sadness and guilt. It was a comforting presence, even if it was a dark entity, as it had good intentions. There and then, the Spectre promised one thing: he could see his mother again, and whenever he wanted. Ah, and he had this weird tattoo on his neck for some reason. Oh, no...
A year after the funeral, he found himself slowly being turned to stone, his movements beginning to slow down as his hands began to show signs of being turned to hard rock. Panicking, he spoke to the Spectre, asking what was happening to his body. The Apparition took a while to answer, but it concluded that the death of James Vanburen had triggered some kind of curse in everyone that bore his name, and the only solution was to stay in Araminta, or become a statue. Distraught that his father still screwed up other people's lives after death, Alexander hastily moved to Araminta, at which he found that the curse receded the closer he got to the city. He resigned from the New York Chamber Orchestra, instead opting to teach children and teenagers instruments. He didn't earn as much as before, and he had to live in the one place that reminded him of his father. Still, all of these were a small price to pay for not dying...
Abstraction ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Hello darkness, my old friend."
TYPE ⫻ Aberration (Affixed) ABSTRACTION ⫻ The Spectre; a ghost-like shadow that hangs around Alexander as a cloud of black and green. It seems to be nice...
ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻ First and foremost, the Spectre allows Alexander to speak with the dead, summoning their ghosts from the afterlife in order for them to have a conversation. Secondly, it also allows him to become a ghost, granting him immunity against non-magic attacks and the ability to phase through solid objects. However, he is unable to breath while incorporeal, nor could he interact with the universe while in that state.
When Alexander is in a normal corporeal state, the Spectre also allows him to conjure a pair of chains made of magical metal, which are usually channeled through his bracelets. AURA SENSING ⫻ None
LIMITS ⫻ Alexander can only summon one spirit at a time, and can only do it once an hour. He can keep a ghost summoned for a short amount of time, probably for like one insightful conversation! Afterward, the ghost will go back to the other side - however, it's possible for certain spirits who don't necessarily want to come back to resist it. Alexander's immune to physical attacks while in his ghost state but other magical attacks can still damage him. He can maintain his ghost state as long as he can hold his breath.
WEAKNESSES ⫻ While in his ghost state he is susceptible to non-physical magical attacks such as fire and electricity.
Other ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Hug me, bro."
Raymond Salazar Vanburen
"Be quiet, colonizer."
_______________________________________________ Raymond Salazar Vanburen
He/Him | 33 | Hispanic American | 5’10” | 170 lbs _______________________________________________ Enduring _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "Smile for the camera!" ___________________________________
Expert Filmmaker/Journalist/Photographer ⫻ Having been good at films and investigation alike since his high school days, Ray has been a documentary film maker for the last ten years. It's how he makes money, though now that he is stuck in Araminta… well.
Magic Knowledge /// Having read through James' library quite a bit, Ray is knowledgeable about the world of magic, though he is not a true expert.
Comforter ⫻ Are you sad? Give this guy a ring. He'll listen to your rants for the next four hours and not complain about it.
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I'm Chili."
Raymond is known as a thrifty man, wearing the same outfit almost everyday. He often complains that excessively bright colors make someone look like a clown, and to this end, prefers wearing a knee length trench coat, with a black or grey shirt inside, a complimentary checkered blue scarf, and leather gloves. On his hands is a cane, which he would sometimes tip with sharp rocks if threatened. His hair is a light brown, accented by a forming beard that he often forgets to shave. Tattoos and piercings are simply not his thing, preferring his skin to be unadulterated by artificial additions. At times, he would wear glasses, though he usually goes around with shades.
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Don't mind me. I'm watching."
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Ray seeks to fix the turning-to-stone problem, so that he could go back to his life of vlogging and travel. After that… well, guess he wants to keep it that way.
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Ray is something of an enigma, as he keeps up a nice exterior with that bright smile and optimistic attitude. However, beneath that wry smirk is a mind that is actively seeking the best ways to neutralize a foe, whether it is through using geokinesis to stop them from using magic, or making them keep shut with blackmail. He may appear as an eccentric man with a love for tea and a friendly face, but make no mistake; threatening him, or those around him will make him go all out.
SEXUALITY ⫻ Asexual. What's with wanting to exchange fluids anyway?!
FEARS ⫻ Ray has an irrational fear of little holes. Ironically enough, he is also heavily claustrophobic. Plus, he fears that the curse of the stone will never leave the Vanburens, which means… he can't travel.
REPUTATION ⫻ Ray is generally well liked amongst the Vanburens, as he is faithful in being a regular in family reunions. While he isn't usually much of a talker, when he does speak, it would be obvious that Ray cares for everyone. Yes. Even Junior.
THOUGHTS ABOUT FATHER ⫻ He had a more or less stable relationship with James, though Ray does not think of him as the perfect overlord like many people do; he sees James as irrevocably flawed, and someone that did so many mistakes that there was no point in trying to right them all.
FLAWS ⫻ Ray often forgets about himself in his quest to make others feel better. It is like he is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and won't let anyone help him with it.
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Same old story. Unfaithful dad. I studied hard. I have magic. Boom."
Raymond was born in Araminta, the only child of James Vanburen and Felicita Salazar, an expatriate from Cuba. James and Felicita didn’t seem to last long after that (oh wow, who would have guessed?!), and the two broke their relationship rather amicably. Ray would see his father on weekends, coming along with his mother to the Vanburen estate just to see how many other children that the haremizer had progenitated over the decades. He was just a young child back then, though, and did not understand the circumstances they were all in. He thought of them as friends and playmates at the time, and of course, they were. What he did not learn at the time, however, was that they were all half siblings of his; the products of dozens of failed marriages and affairs.
As he grew up, he would see that his father was an incredibly flawed man, and though he carried the Vanburen name, Ray didn’t tell anyone about it unless they asked, as he thought that it was extremely unfortunate to be someone from such a messed up family. Either way, he then took on journalism in college. In the end, he finished with decent marks; though Ray did not have flying honors, he was still quite good at both. He went around the world, filming documentaries and expanding his rock collection.
He would awaken his abstraction during that fateful day, when an explosion of unknown origin occurred in the place where he was staying in. Ray had been filming there with a team when the quake struck, destroying the building they were in and burying him and some others under debris.
There he was, trapped under rocks and metal, dealing with a diminishing air supply. He prayed and cried, as if there was one feeling that all humans shared, it was the fear of death before achieving something great. Hours passed, and he felt his air tightening as the oxygen in the little enclosed space he was in was running out.
And then it happened. A tattoo of golden light appeared on his wrist, and the power of instinct awoke within him. With a simple gesture, Ray threw off all the debris that was keeping him and his friends trapped. They had passed out, but he had not. This was not a coincidence.
Ray would keep his abilities a secret as he went back to Araminta, keeping a more or less regular job for his education. At least, until his siblings went back to the city, saying that they're turning to stone...
Abstraction ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "This rocks..."
TYPE ⫻ Awakened
ABSTRACTION ⫻ Terrakinesis; an ability that he gained after getting trapped under debris after an explosion. The Awakened tattoo appears as a globe on his wrist.
ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻ Ray has the ability to control and shape any earth derived materials around himself. Thus, metal, stone, earth, and mud are fair game. He is able to control them as long as he could see it, and could wield up to 500 kilograms of materiel at a single given time. Wielding his powers also requires hand gestures and lower body movements. In combat, he will always have shoes and gloves made from earthen materials, which allow him to rapidly slide on the ground, crawl on inert surfaces like a lizard, and make improvised cuffs with his gloves. (In other words, basically an Earthbender)
AURA SENSING ⫻ Ray is capable of seeing the auras of people that are currently stepping on earth based materials within ten meters.
LIMITS ⫻ Emotional-Fields interfere with the ability to a degree, and he has a hard time using his ability on the Extra-Normal. He can hit them with a rock just fine, but can't seem to bind them in stone regardless of how hard he tries. The ability has a range of around ten meters, and he has a weight limit of around 500kg. The act of lifting up stone and moving it is incredibly taxing, so he finds it draining when he uses his ability.
WEAKNESSES ⫻ When Ray uses his abstraction, he finds himself weighed down and this really hurts him in confrontations against faster foes. The act of bending earth also causes nasty cracks to form on his skin, and they could get easily infected if they aren't treated.
@The Man Emperor I see he's better than before but I feel as if he needs some more work. You still mention his telepathic abilities in his appearance section.
It kinda feels like his backstory is incomplete because 1). it cuts off at him getting his power. 2). Has no mention of him being affected by the curse or even going back to Araminta.
I also feel as if he can do a bit too much? Like he can turn completely invisible and impervious to non-magic attacks, summon chains that are harder than steel, and can sap the life out of people to heal himself? It's not super overpowered but I think he could be toned down just a little.
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