Description: a girl in a T-shirt and jeans, with sandy blue hair. She has two forelocks that she lets frame her face, but the rest is kept short.
Personality: Scared, confused, and with the unshakeable feeling she’s missing something…
Equipment: The clothes on her back and some money…
Abilities: Interestingly, she has a degree of far energy in her that acts to both protect her from the more horrible eldritch forces and gives her some force against horrible things. Unfortunately, this makes her act as a lure… causing starspawn to notice her… and since she has no self-defense training…
Backstory: Amnesia! Oh, no!
Miscellaneous: No… of course not.
STATUS: Disappeared. Alias: 1:1 dealer
Race/Species: Immortal being?
Age: immortal, looks mid-20s
Class/Profession: Deal maker
Power Rating: S? Does not fight.
Description: A woman that appears to be human, wearing a long trench coat and a rather droopy wide-brimmed hat. The hat does not seem as if it should cover her eyes, but it does. There is no angle at which her eyes can be seen.
Personality: She stands and sits in corners, never approaching anyone. She most often speaks with people that want to make deals, but will occasionally participate in a conversation. There seems to be a bit of a sad story to her.
Equipment: She seems to have whatever the deal requires. Also, a wood block with the words "1:1 deals. Make any request.". This seems to be her sole form of advertisement.
Abilities: Amazing reality-warping powers, which only seem to involve making her deals and defending herself. Her deals are always at a 1:1 good:bad ratio. For every good thing you get yourself, there is a bad thing of equal force that you must accept. For some things, you can just “Owe her a favor” and leave it at that… but not very many things. There are limits to her deals, but most of them they are really out there. First and foremost, she cannot directly kill anyone, or affect anyone outside the deal.
Alias: None Female Age: 43 Race: Human Alignment: Lawful Evil Profession: Owner of the Nexus Umbrella Corporation. Power Rating: E Description: She has long brown hair and brown eyes and fair skin. She's of average height and weight with an hourglass figure. She is very generic looking. Personality: To be RPed out. Equipment: A plaid shirt and jeans. Ablities: None, she can't even fire a gun. Back Story: Raised by a rich family, she was the only heir to the Umbrella Corporation. She deals in everything in the corporation
Half-Dragons are surprisingly similar to their non-dragon parent. it's comparable to simply have a normal being and just adding dragon parts if you want the proper effect.
In any case, the half-dragon will almost certainly be covered in scales, have sharp claws and teeth, and slitted eyes, but the rest is unique to that particular one. An individual might have have a human-like head, while a sibling could have a head more akin to that of a dragons. The most likely body parts to be different from the base are extremities such as hands and feet, the head, a tail, and wings, though other changes may be present.
There are also less visible differences inherent to half-dragons. The first is vocal range; if they inherited vocal chords from their draconic parent rather than their non-draconic one, they will have a very wide range of tones, and will be capable of mimicking most voices they wish except for extremely low or extremely high pitch. Another is the Eyelids; True dragons have several sets of eyelids, usually three, each one thicker than the last. Half-Dragons only have two sets - one semi-clear one that cuts off the glow of the eyes from within and protects the eye while in the air or underwater, while the second is much like a human eyelid. when both are peeled back, too much light will hurt a half-dragon's eyes, but it allows them to see a great distance in the dark, even in pitch black conditions.
Another difference is the Draconis Fundamentum, which is likely the single most important organ in a dragon's body. attached to the lungs and heart, it also affects the stomach. It's an elemental furnace, based on the dragon's element; it can secrete elemental energy into the lungs for the dragon to breathe out. By adjusting the stomach, the roiling elemental energy breaks down almost any sort of matter the dragon wishes to feed on, allowing the dragon to subsist and nearly anything, organic or not. A dragon could literally eat dirt and survive as healthy as they might be if they were eating sheep. the Draconis Fundamanetum extracts the energy gotten in this way from the stomach and moves it to the heart, where it can be spread to the rest of the body - the remins of whatever was eaten are what the dragon urinate and defecate. Despite this, a dragon can run on what they eat normally if for some reason the Draconis Fundamentum is impaired - they will be forced to eat reasonable food rather than things like rock, and they'll be unable to breathe their elemental energy, and won't be capable of flight.
This organ also allows fire and electricity dragons to internalize energy from their environment - a fire dragon resting in a volcano will be capable of internalizing the heat coming from the magma in their home. This can make dragons seem hyper if they internalize too much energy, but it also means the dragon won't have to eat as much.
the final difference is that many Half-dragons have a genital sheathe. Nothing more on the matter will be said.
Skills and Abilities:
Half-dragons are a great deal stronger than their non-dragon counterparts, and at peak condition can lift more than a ton without too much strain. Because of their link to dragons, which are arcane beings, many also have magic as a sorcerer, getting such magic directly from the source. this isn't always the case, but it's certainly very common.
Birth, Life, and Death:
A Half-dragon's birth depends on the mother - if the mother is a creature that gives birth live children, the half-dragon will be born as such as well. if the mother is the dragon, then the Half-dragon will hatch from an egg.
Half-dragons age at the same rate that humans do until they reach somewhere around the age of twenty, though some may fluctuate more than others for exactly when their aging process slows down. after that point, they age at a rate of 1:5, meaning many human half-dragons will live to see their fourth century if nothing kills them before then.
Half-dragons share the genome of their non-dragon parent, which is the reason thy look so much like their non-dragon parent. what changes them to be like a dragon is the essence that gets transferred from the draconic parent. It adjusts the baby in the womb when it would otherwise be a normal creature of the non-dragon race. If this is understood, it can be a simple matter for a dragon to keep that essence from affecting an unborn child, using magic, though most either don't understand that or don't bother.
If You need me to post somewhere, drop me a message, please
"She's a bit assistance-intolerant, so don't take it personally if she tries to swat you away while you're helping."
Also Known As: Keska Gender: Female. Race/Species:Ice Elf Age: Looks to be in her late forties. Alignment: Lawful Neutral, leaning towards Evil. Class/Profession: Mercenary, leader of the Sabertooths, founding member of AMEN (retired) Power Rating: B Rank. Description: Moon Called stands at just under five feet tall, but that doesn't make her any less intimidating. She is a four-foot-nine ball of muscle and strength, carrying around a wide-bladed sword as long as she is almost everywhere. She keeps her jet-black hair short and holds it out of her face with a black and white hair band. Her right eye is missing and covered with an eyepatch, with a jagged and poorly-healed scar running across her face from under it. Her form is well-built and lithe. Super old reference image is super old. Personality: Moon Called doesn't take herself too seriously most of the time. Almost everything she says and does is accompanied by a darkly amused smirk. However, that doesn't mean she's incapable of taking important things seriously. Moon Called is a skilled tactician (although her player isn't, so that's fun), and is even more skilled in one-on-one combat. Equipment: Moon Called has a large arsenal of bladed weapons, but generally sticks to her greatsword. (The one on the avatar on the left.) Abilities: Extremely skilled melee fighter. She's not a bad dancer, either. Backstory: Moon Called left the White Sun Wastelands at an early age, travelling across her homeworld, Spire, as a sell-sword. Eventually, she signed up with AMEN in its early days and joined the Nexus when they did. She still travels between Spire and Nexus, spending more and more of her time in her home-world. Miscellaneous: Moon Called is was in a relationship with Saurous Kaer, and has had a son, Maur, with him.
Ice Elves are short and compact, with males standing at 4'3' to 5', and females are usually slightly shorter. They have low foreheads and short, small noses and ears. This is in stark comparison to the tall and slender High Elves they are descended from, largely evolutionary methods to cope with their icy habitat. However, despite all this adaption, Ice Elves have dark grey skin, darker hair and red eyes that seem to shine slightly when surrounded by snow. They often compensate for this by wrapping themselves in white furs and keeping their hair short. A full lifespan for an ice elf is about fifty to sixty years, but they rarely die of old age.
Because food is often scarce, Ice Elves have extremely slow metabolisms and put on weight easily. They can survive for up to a week with just one large, high protein meal. However, due to the uninviting climate of the tundra they live in, Ice Elves rarely have much contact with disease-causing bacteria and thus have somewhat frail constitutions. They make up for this by being strong and athletic.
Skills, Abilities and Drawbacks:
While the Ice Elf species has no special abilities, they are all extremely skilled hunters, warriors, crafters, healers or builders. Those who are unable to pick up a skill are often left to die.
Because of the curse inflicted on them by Heirno, Ice Elves have an aura identical to that of an Evil cleric. This is detectable by anyone with the psychic ability to read auras or an ability similar to a Paladin's Detect Evil. The aura is not necessarily a reflection of the individual Ice Elf's actual alignment. A Good Ice Elf would still have an Evil aura, as would a Neutral or Evil one.
Birth, Life, and Death:
Most clans are made up of tightly-knit families. To avoid inbreeding, they have a special ritual- the Clansmeet. Once every year, during the month-long period of darkness where the sun does not shine over the tundra, every Ice Elf clan gathers to hold a great festival. The days are spent feasting, exchanging stories, competing in displays of strength, and meeting as many people as possible. When night falls, every female selects a male and leads them into a cabin to form a carnal union. The Ice Elf pregnancy cycle lasts only a little over a month, so the rest of the month is spent caring for the pregnant women. When the children are born, they are divided into clans. Boys join their father's clan, while girls join their mother's. Once the last child is born, each clan returns to it's respective land. The first night after returning, the child must spend the first night outside it's parents cabin. Only when it survives that night does it receive a name.
Over the next few years, the child must take up a skill. Usually they take the skill their parent has, but it's not entirely uncommon for a child to pick up a skill that another clansmen displays. Childhood is spent learning, often through experience.
Once a child is proficient in that skill, they are considered an adult and are allowed to join a Clansmeet. This is usually a momentous landmark in one's life and is celebrated thusly.
When an Ice Elf dies, by accident or in battle (and rarely of old age), the entire clan mourns them. The mourning process is often short, and if there is a body, always ends in the body being cooked and eaten. It is the ultimate insult to an Ice Elf to allow any meat to go to waste, especially if it is their own.
Hailing from the planet Spire, a Tolkein-esque world of high fantasy, Ice Elves are a relatively young race.
The High Elves are a beautiful race of high art and magic ruled by a monarchy. In the year 314, King Everleaf died of poison. His two heirs, Prince Silverleaf and Prince Whiteleaf, each blamed the other. Silverleaf was the oldest and thus the rightful heir to the throne, and held much favour among the nobles. However, the younger Whiteleaf was the more charismatic of the two and was well-loved by much of the lower class citizens. Eventually, the conflict over who killed Everleaf broke into a civil war. It lasted half a year, before finally drawing the attention of Spire's sun god, Hierno.
As the patron god of the High Elves, Hierno was furious over their infighting. He banished the upstarts, Whiteleaf's followers, to the forsaken White Sun Wasteland north of the the High Elf kingdom, Greenglen. He cursed them with black skin and hair, so that they would never be able to hide from his wrath again. He changed their auras so they would always trigger a Paladin's Detect Evil, so they would always be persecuted. Whiteleaf, however, was banished to the Underworld.
Soon, Whiteleaf meet the god of the Underworld, Gin. Gin, familiar with Hierno's anger, empathized with the poor prince. He recycled Whiteleaf's soul, taking his noble and charastamtic spirit and, with the help of some of the other gods, created a new minor god - Xun.
Xun, the patron god of survival and swordplay, and was appointed as the guardian of the Ice Elves. It became his job to protect them from any further displays of wrath from Hierno.
However, that only made the sun god crafty. Instead of directly attacking the Ice Elves, Hierno created the Golden Guard - an order of paladins dedicated to eradicating evil. The Golden Guard would often march into the White Sun Tundra during the summer, attacking any clan they see.
The first attack was a blood bath. The Golden Guard slaughtered four clans before the weather forced them to retreat. When the next Clansmeet was called, the festivals were reserved and quiet. On the second day, Xun appeared before the Ice Elves. He taught them how to use the swords dropped by Golden Guard soldiers and how to protect the blades so that they did not become brittle and break in the cold. He taught them how to defend themselves with their new weapons. He taught them how to create signal fires to alert other nearby clans to incoming Golden Guard attacks. He taught them how to use the environment to their advantage, hiding in snowbanks and using white furs for camouflage.
By the next year, they were ready. Clans stood together and repelled the invasions, inflicting as many casualties onto the paladins as they inflicted on them.
The next two hundred years continued much this way. Because of the constant attacks and harsh climate, the Ice Elves never progressed much as a culture or in technology. Most of their weapons are made from animals or looted off Golden Guard soldiers.
EDIT: Added more information to Skills and Abilities.
Alignment: Cowardly Good. Or, if you prefer conventional alignments, Neutral Good.
Power Rating: D+ or 3.
Description: Xalicus is a slight young man who could possibly be mistaken for a woman at first sight. He has shoulder-length straight copper hair that curls at the ends, blue eyes with a faint purple tint, and glasses. He always wears long robes, typically of dark blue or purple with a matching hooded cloak.
Personality: Xalicus's main goals in life are to gain knowledge and to survive with his sanity intact, although he's not likely to have an easy time with the latter. Like many mages, he's curious about magic and enjoys experimenting with it. However, witnessing a variety of disasters has left him somewhat paranoid. When confronted with a possible threat, his first instinct is to find out if it's dangerous from a safe distance, and when confronted with an obvious threat, he usually runs away.
Equipment: Xalicus has a short staff with a clear orb on the end through which he focuses his magic. In addition, he often carries with him a few hastily-assembled wands and similar magical devices.
Abilities: Xalicus has some low-level magical abilities primarily related to light, and is also quite skilled at making magical items.
Backstory: Xalicus's early life was mostly normal until his magical powers manifested, and then became about as far from normal as possible. His family, being mundane, distrusted his power, and the accidents he caused developing it only added to their fear. As soon as they could, they sent him away to a magical academy, hoping he would be able to learn to put his talents to good use there.
His training at the academy was cut short by an attack by rogue mages who sought the power there. Xalicus fled to find a new place to learn, but had to move on once again after an attack by undead. Since then, he travelled from place to place, learning as much as he could wherever he could before he was forced to flee again due to attackers or experiments gone haywire
Somehow, he managed to learn enough magic to be ready to set out on his own. However, despite his spellcasting proficiency and respectable ability to craft magical devices, he still has much to learn before he can be considered a proper wizard.
Miscellaneous: Xalicus's magical aura, when visible, has an indigo colour.
When in doubt, use cute little dragons.
Once there was a smith in the realm beyond, a divine being without mortal limits. Creator of swords and fortresses, storms and worlds, the smith was honored by all in that distant land of dream. Yet one day, the smith looked into that mortal realm, and watched its inhabitants and their lives; they were so fragile and small, confined and limited- but yet... yet there was something there that was troubling. The greatest works of the smith were so vast, so monumental and magnificent as to be beyond mortal comprehension, but nonetheless, when the smith considered them again, they lacked something, something that the mortals had.
In time, the smith grew dissatisfied and eventually inconsolable. No mighty weapon, no towering fortress or beautiful world crafted on the smith's forge could replicate that tiny spark in the mortal realm, that one small thing which would make those works complete. So the smith, vowing not to be outdone, determined that no art would escape the anvil, created one last work and declared victory with a final breath.
"The greatest tree grows from the smallest seed."
Aliases:The Queen of Rings, Jean Gender: Female Species: Raksha (fair folk) Profession: Reality Artisan Power Rating: Variable (Generally A to S)
Description: Genesis is without shape or form, a vague personality that interacts with the world as she wills, creating new bodies and discarding them as she desires. As such, she has no set description. However, her bodies typically bear a few traits- first, Genesis seems to identify as female, and as such, the vast majority of her forms are at least feminine in appearance. Second, for whatever reason, Genesis tends to have sharp, predatory teeth, which are often bared in a grin. Lastly, she seems to have a fondness for rings and circular patterns, and often will incorporate them into her form somehow, if only in clothing.
Personality: Inhuman. For all that she feigns humanity, Genesis has some distinctly unnatural thought processes. She sees the world as highly subjective to perception and interest, and therefore is openly willing to ignore fact and history to make way for her own preferences of what should be or should occur. Further, she critiques reality openly as if it were a narrative to be edited at will, and cares much more about how interesting something is than whether it is moral or immoral, or horrible or beautiful.
Equipment: As a magical artisan, Genesis has access to a great deal of equipment- however, much of what she makes follows rules similar to her bodies- nebulous concepts pinned together with magic and metaphors, only possessing shapes when she invokes them into reality. However, most of what she makes follows stricter guidelines as to their shape than Genesis does.
Abilities: Fair folk, artisan, magician- Genesis is broadly talented and powerful. She creates and twists shapes according to her magic, and there is very little she cannot do. However, that is not to say she does not have rules she must follow. Genesis is limited by narrative structures, and must work with symbols and metaphors, and further, has difficulty working her greatest powers outside of magically charged areas. In dreams, fey touched lands, and areas of import and magic, she has the power of a goddess, but in the mundane, her powers are generally reduced to illusions and lies.
Description: Zero is human in appearance, he is thin and slightly sick looking with blue eyes and hair that is dark enough to be either black or brown. Due to his sickly nature he tends to wear sweatshirts and other things that help keep his body temperature up.
Personality: Usually Zero is quiet and avoids getting into confrontations with people.
Abilities: Zero is a planar, he uses his control over his on innate energy to attack or defend himself.
Gender: Genders are inefficient (previously female)
Species: Tyranid Siren
Profession: NOC (network operations center) for Mallside
Personality: Amil is serious and strong-willed, doing everything in her power to maintain her human identity despite the unwilling metamorphosis she has gone through. She has a never-say-die attitude and a strong compassionate streak. She sees her rebirth as the chance to really do something to help the Nexus when previously she was just another helpless victim. Though if pushed too far her Tyranid fighting instincts can drive her into a berserk state.
Equipment: Amil is equipped with a number of magical devices that she's acquired in various adventures thus far. A hat that increases her durability, overalls that provide her with momentary invulnerability after being injured while at the same time increasing her leg strength tremendously, and a pendant that can provide a small aid when all other options have failed.
Abilities: Bio-morph modification: Amil is able to grow bio-morphs on her body, living weapons and armor to aid her in combat. Depending on how complex the morph is it may take her more time to create it. This ability is equal parts biological, psionic, and arcane. Effects that cut off teleportation stop her from being able to gather new bio-mass from the ethereal plane, but it doesn't stop her from working with what she already has. Amil can support up to four arm bio-morphs, one tail bio-morph, and two body bio-morphs, though she can only grow one bio-morph at a time.
Ultra-dense Musculature: Even in a roughly human size and shape Amil is about four times faster and stronger than a normal human. Bio-morphs can be used to further enhance herself even beyond that level.
Ethereal Jaunt: Amil is able to slip from the material to the ethereal plane and back again, though it take some time before she can make the trip again after crossing over. Effects that cut off teleportation prevent Amil from using Ethereal Jaunt. While on the etherial plane Amil no longer exists on the material plane.
Bio-Morphs Used Thus Far
Melee Bio-Morphs Bone-Saber: Amil's favored melee bio-morph, the Bone-Saber is a single-edged sword-like bio-morph of exceptional sharpness and durability. The weapon is psionically charged, causing the wounds it inflicts to bite deeper than should be possible. The Bone-Saber is an intricate bio-morph that requires time to grow, it can not be employed right away in combat.
Carapace Shield: Two arms on the same side of Amil's body fuse together as the fingers splay out and are covered in thick plates of armored carapace adorned with barbed spikes. The Carapace Shield is extremely durable and can shrug off even the most vicious of attacks. because of how simple it is a single Carapace Shield can be grown quickly and employed in combat at the same time.
Claws: Basic arm bio-morph. Quick and easy to grow, Amil can give all four of her hands claws without missing a beat in combat.
Gravity Maul: A massive spiked hammer-like bio-morph of ultra-dense bone and chitin reinforced with metallic crystalline growth. The hammer uses the same gravity-well drive that Tyranid Hive-ships do to drastically increase its weight an impact power mid-swing. This large bio-morph takes considerable time to grow and can not be used right away. Two hands are required to wield this weapon properly.
Scythe Talons: Long, sickle-like arm or tail talons. Fast, strong, and durable. It takes Amil a few moments to grow a scythe, though still fast enough to use it right away in combat.
One-Handed Ranged Bio-Morphs Spike Pistol: A basic ranged bio-morph, the Spike Pistol uses powerful muscular contractions to launch a metal-coated bone spike at bullet-speeds. The Spike Pistol is simple enough in its design that Amil can grow one and employ it in combat with no real down-time.
Bio-Flamer: This weapon looks akin to the back-end of a beetle adorned with sacs and compartments filled with fluids. It is equipped with several fleshy nozzles that fire a spray of sticky mucus particles heavily laden with enzymes. When the enzymes mix they ignite violently, coating anything caught in the stream with burning gel. The Bio-Flamer is a complex bio-morph and it can not be grown quickly enough to be used right away.
Tangle-Web Gun: A peculiar bio-morph that's somewhat oval in shape and sporting a wide, flaring orifice at one end. The weapon contains a brooding-chamber for spider like organisms that are launched from the weapon en-mass contained within a silken sac. The sac bursts in proximity to a target, hurling silk-trailing spiders everywhere. The spiders will quickly bind anything they land on. This is a complex bio-morph and it can not be grown quickly enough to be used right away.
Death-Spitter: This long, tubular weapon is armored with carapace and several bone spikes along the bottom of the barrel for melee attacks. At the back is a fleshy brood-pouch for rearing its ammunition. At the front a puckered, muscular orifice. The weapon fires acid-filled armored grubs at bullet speeds, impacting with lethal force before exploding in a spray of caustic enzymes. This is a complex bio-morph and it can not be grown quickly enough to be used right away.
Two-handed Ranged Bio-Morphs Venom Cannon: The Venom Cannon is a massive weapon sporting two linked firing chambers. A second arm is needed to hold the brood-pouch that grows the weapon's ammunition and feeds it into the Venom Cannon via fleshy tubes. The Venom Cannon fires iron-coated crystals of toxic, acidic enzymes at hyper-sonic speeds, functioning more or less as an organic rail-gun. The weapon has a rather low rate of fire, requiring time to reload and recharge barrels between shots.
Fragfish Launcher: This large pod-like weapon is coated with heavy carapace and boasts four firing chambers each containing a torpedo-shaped fish-like organism. A second arm is needed to hold the brood-pouch that grows the weapon's ammunition and feeds it into the Launcher via fleshy tubes. The armored torpedoes are packed with high explosive chemicals and hurl deadly shrapnel everywhere when they detonate. The weapon has a rather low rate of fire, requiring time to reload and recharge barrels between shots.
Swarm Cannon: The Swarm Cannon looks vaguely similar to a mini-gun with six tubular barrels arranged in a rough hexagonal patter. Behind the barrels is a brood-sac for the ammo. A second arm is needed to hold a secondary brood-pouch that grows additional ammo to feed the weapon's high rate of fire. The Swarm Cannon uses acid filled grubs identical to those of the Death-Spitter.
PlasmAcid Cannon: Easily Amil's most powerful weapon. The cannon itself it a sizable pod of hollow carapace chambers crackling with electricity to maintain a coherent magnetic bottle inside. The end of the weapon is adorned with six finger-like focusing organs and two openings held shut by muscular sphincters until the weapon is fired. Both of Amil's lower arms are modified into a pair of tube-laden supports feeding from her back into the cannon and insulated with additional magnetic bottles. The arms are also equipped with the ability to draw matter from the ethereal plane to feed the plasma reaction. The PlasmAcid Cannon has two firing phases. It leads with a powerful organic laser to ionize the air before following up with two plasma streams that are mixed mid-air. The deadly Argon/Oxygen plasma that results is not only super-heated and electrically charged, it's also a universal solvent, dissolving any physical material it comes in contact with at an astonishing rate. In addition to requiring three arms the PlasmAcid Cannon also requires that Amil be using the Bio-Plasma morph.
Bio-Plasma: This bio-morph grows a plasma reactor in Amil's gut, allowing her to blarg a gout of plasma all over a foe at close range. This ability, while powerful, has a very significant recharge time.
Active Camouflage/Stealth: Amil gains the ability to alter her coloration to perfectly blend into her surroundings, resulting in little more than a slight visual ripple when she moves. Additionally her body gives off little if any scent, heat, or psionic radiation. She becomes near silent. She's even equipped with tiny air-vents that serve to drastically reduce her drag, rendering her invisible to motion sensors as well.
Regeneration: Amil draws bio-mass from the ethereal plane to fuel stupendous metabolism, allowing her to heal at an unnaturally fast rate. This ability can be suspended by effects that block teleportation.
Reinforced Carapace: Amil's armor grows in coverage and thickness, providing her with greater protection than would otherwise be possible.
Shadow in the Warp: Amil produces subtle psionic armor that drastically increases her resistance to supernatural attacks and abilities. However she can not use any of her own supernatural abilities save to shut down Shadow in the Warp.
Subjects 386-A and 386-C did not survive being captured. While a shame, they were disposable. Tyranid Gaunts have been captured and studied in the past in fairly exhaustive numbers.
Three Eighty Six Bea, however, is something altogether different. It is the opinion of this researcher that 386-B represents a new genus of Tyranid and a terribly dangerous one. In general build the Xeno resembles a typical member of the Lictor genus, though the similarity ends there. The Xeno has show a remarkable ability to-
There comes a tapping from the other side of the foot thick plate of sheet diamond. Less a pounding and more of a polite call for attention. Thaddeus glances up from his notes, adjusting his glasses.
"I'm out of water again. If I could get some more when you aren't busy?" comes the monster's siren-like voice. No doubt a clever ploy or lure to cause its victims to let their guard down.
"You will be fed at the appropriate time, Foul Xeno. As I have told you before," Thaddeus replies before returning to his notes.
386-B looks little if anything like it did when it first arrived. In a remarkable display of almost protean mutability it had shed hundreds of pounds of armor and bone and muscle, going so far as to reduce its tail and secondary limbs to little more than vestigial nubs.
Truth be told the repulsive Xeno appears almost as though it is trying to look human. Which is no doubt heresy of some kind. Or so the local head of the Guard insists. A human shaped body, armored though it is. Complete with little armored boots, disturbingly human hands, and that disgusting mess of fleshy-pink tendrils that are no doubt meant to be hair. The noseless face and orange eyes round out a truly unspeakable mockery of the human form.
As if that weren't blasphemous enough the creature even speaks in Low Gothic. This is no doubt an adaptation meant to lure prey in, quite fitting for the wily Lictors which 386-B is likely descended from.
"Are you going to... y'know... Are you going to kill me? Cut me open and look at my insides?" the monster speaks up again, trying to mimic the human emotion of apprehension. "I... I would really like to avoid dying if I can."
With a sigh Thaddeus looks up from his notes again. "There will be a number of Magos biologists arriving within several weeks to examine you. In addition to observers from other departments. They will no doubt decide what your fate will be, Foul Xeno."
"...oh," the Tyranid replies, its eyes falling to the grated floor.
Thaddeus stares at the beast for a few moments longer before snapping his journal shut and leaving the room. He can't watch the monster sit there and sulk like that. Tomorrow he would return with some equipment to measure psionic activity.
No doubt it exudes a mental compulsion to make those around it perceive it as weak and pitiable.
"Do I really need to be kept locked up like this?" the monster inquires, laying on its back and peering up at Thaddeus as he works. "If you let me out I promise I won't hurt anyone. I'll even stay in the compound."
Thaddeus just snorts. "You killed and ate twelve guardsmen before you were captured. And the only reason you were captured is because everyone believed you to be dead," the adept replies, none too moved by the Tyranid's assurances of self-restraint.
"To be fair they did shoot at me first," the Xeno objects, rolling over onto its stomach in the process. "And I needed to learn your language. It would have been hard to talk to you otherwise."
"You will remain where you are, Foul Xeno."
No psionic activity. Aside from a negative imprint the monster's presence leaves in the Warp. This is, perhaps, more insidious than initially imagined. 386-B doesn't warp the mind through psionic attack, but through simple emotional manipulation. If the Tyranid's ability to mimic the human form evolves to a point of accuracy then this genus could pose a serious threat via infiltration. Especially since it shares the Lictor's ability to devour the memories of its victims.
Unlike many other Tyranids 386-B shows a frightening degree of individuality. Where most such creatures would become feral and mindless without the presence of the Hive Mind to guide it. This creature instead shows a high degree of intelligence and curiosity, operating on its own initiative. This combined with its mutability suggests a long-range scouting role.
"Well... I'm glad I'll have a little while longer to enjoy life then," the monster laments. "I just wish I could spend it somewhere less cramped. The diamond walls are kind of pretty, though."
The Tyranid was sleeping. Or at least pretending to. He honestly isn't sure whether or not these monsters actually sleep. Though he's quite certain that it isn't right now. Mostly because of the incident yesterday with Pratt.
The technicians had taken to sticking small, unimportant lab animals into the Tyranid's enclosure and placing bets on how long they would survive. Eventually the game took a turn for the worst when Pratt introduced a whole box full of lab rats into the inclosure while the monster was 'sleeping'. He had bet that the whole batch wouldn't survive a minute and had some real money on the line. About thirty seconds in he got antsy, picked up a yard stick, and began prodding at the Xeno through the feeding hatch to wake it up.
Suffice to say the Tyranid didn't seem hungry enough to bother with the rats afterward.
"You just have to keep an eye on it," Ulysses the head Adept had said. "Take some notes. Write down what it says. It might even do something interesting. This isn't very hard! But by the Emperor's gold plated cod-piece I do not want any more technicians feeding themselves to that thing! Just make sure it stays healthy until the research team arrives."
And so that's what Thaddeus did.
In addition to placing a small sign above the feeding hatch.
'No unauthorized feeding of the Tyranid.'
Thaddeus storms into the lab, ripping off his Adept robe and hurling it into the corner, leaving a rather unpleasant sticky residue on his hands. He drops into his chair and begins prying at his notebook, doing his best to separate the pages that had been glued together when a large bottle of syrup had been 'accidentally' knocked over.
He tried to be a polite enough human being. He tried to be respectful of superiors. He tried to do his job quietly and well. And apparently all those traits make him a prime target for pranks.
"He was very unkind to you," the Tyranid speaks up after watching Thaddeus stew in silence for several long, brooding minutes.
"What are you talking about?" the adept fumes back.
"Pratt," it clarifies. "He was unkind to you. He used to spend time thinking about ways to make you feel humiliated. I learned that when I ate him."
"Well I suppose he won't ever get a chance to be unkind again now will he?" Thaddeus fires back, feeling rather disgusted even having this conversation.
"I wonder why humans do that? When I'm with the Hive we all have a unity of purpose. To improve our whole race. But when I'm alone... It seems like... maybe we're unkind, too. Thinking of new ways to make other races die better."
Thaddeus rips one of the pages in his notebook. And the Tyranid makes a convenient focus for his frustration. "You're a monster! A Filthy Xeno! Your kind has killed countless trillions and for what? For a snack. I don't think 'unkind' is a strong enough term."
The Tyranid cowers slightly at the yelling, looking away from the technician. Ugh... Something about the way the monster moves. It's body language. Everything about it just gets his stomach up in knots. And to make matters worse it looks more human now than it did several days ago.
And to make matters EVEN worse his notebook is ruined. A horrific death by syrup. With a yell of frustration he hurls the book into the Tyranid's feeding tray and gives the simple device a kick, sending the notes flying into the monster's enclosure and his foot flying to his hands.
He had heard a rather nasty crack shortly after the kicking and quite suddenly it doesn't seem to have been a very good idea. Irritated and defeated Thaddeus hobbles off to the medical ward.
The next morning and some medical attention later Thaddeus found his notebook once again sitting in the Tyranid's feeding tray, this time pushed to his side of the barrier. With the Tyranid watching him expectantly. This lead to one very obvious question.
"What did you do to it?"
"I cleaned it for you," the creature replies, offering a disturbingly human smile. "And I read it, too. Some of your hypothesis on the Hive Mind are wrong. Especially the one about some massive psionic creature that controls us all. We have no leader, there is only The Hive."
Thaddeus eyes the book cautiously. The Filthy Xeno might have tainted it with spores. Or toxins. Or viruses. Or toxic virus spores. He takes some tongs and uses them to pick up the notebook and place it in an air-tight container.
"I'm going to run some tests on this, Filthy Xeno, to make sure you aren't trying to poison me. Or take over my mind. Or some other suitably nefarious trick," and with that he turns to leave the room. Only to pause shortly before making his exit. "But... if you aren't. Thank you."
About an hour later Thaddeus returns, notebook in hand. Thankfully it contained no toxic virus spores. Not even one. He approaches the Xeno's enclosure, his expression a mix of confusion and pleasant surprise and curiosity.
"How did you manage to clean my notebook? And more importantly why?"
"I whipped up a solvent that would remove the syrup without smearing the ink or damaging the paper. It wasn't very hard," the monster that's looking more and more like a female human by the day replies. "And I did it because I don't have much to do inside my glass box. I read your notes twelve times. It was a nice change of pace from counting the holes in the floor."
"And I thought it would be kind. There aren't many people here that are kind."
Thaddeus provides the Tyranid with an incredulous look. "Thank you, I suppose. But if you're so keen on kindness why did you kill and eat Pratt?" Reasonable question right there, all things considered.
"I was hungry," the Tyranid replies with a rather non-nonchalant shrug. "I was injured badly. I needed to cannibalize most of my bio-mass to heal myself. And..." it crinkles its lips off to the side a bit at the tray of slop sitting in front of it. "The food you're giving me isn't nearly enough. My metabolism is really high and I'm burning my own meat to stay alive. Pratt saved my life, and I'm thankful for that."
The adept huffs at that. He wasn't terribly fond of Pratt. The man was a jerk. But he didn't deserve being eaten. Then again, if the Filthy Xeno is starving to death...
"Well then Fil... eerr... How much more food will you need?"
"To just stay alive at least three times what you're giving me now. But if you're wanting to show your superiors a ferocious Tyranid killing machine I don't think they'll be very impressed with me right now. Five times as much and I'll actually be able to start putting some mass back on."
"Very well, Filthy Xeno. I'll see what I can do," and with that Thaddeus turns to leave the room.
He pauses, glancing back over his shoulder. "I beg your pardon?"
"My name. My name is Amil."
Since increasing ration size Amil has been significantly more energetic than she previously was. Not only that but she appears to be growing at a noticeable rate. After explaining how unnerving her human-like shape was she was kind enough to alter herself, assuming a form more similar to that she was initially found in.
Her initial state is something of a quandary. She landed in a myotic spore accompanied by only two Gaunts of the relatively small Jabberwock Hive Fleet, easily identified by their green and black markings. Amil, however, displays a color morph yet unseen in any Hive Fleet. A light blue hide that proves to be blue and white striped when examined closely, blotched with much darker angular patches. Her carapace is a solid brass while horns are silvery black. Muscular regions are a fleshy pink, reminiscent of Hive Fleet Leviathan.
When questioned about her Hive Fleet of origin she admitted that she was originally born to Hive Fleet Leviathan, though her color morph obviously doesn't match the usual white/purple/red scheme. Perhaps she's somehow a seed of a new Hive Fleet? Amil admits she doesn't know.
Even more curious than her Fleet affiliation is her protean nature. As mentioned earlier in the report Amil displays an incredible ability to modify herself in very short order, growing new bio-morphs in a matter of seconds. Amil has explained that using this ability is metabolically taxing and using it while starving proved far too strenuous. She was happy to show off a number of exotic bio-morphs, including several which she claims are her own design. This researcher is uncertain whether to be fascinated or concerned by this discovery.
"-And this one causes exponential cell growth around the wound, killing the target with exploding tumors," Amil mentions, poking at the rather lumpy organic weapon that has replaced her lower right arm.
That strikes Thaddeus as an absurdly horrific way to die. It also raises a rather interesting question. "How exactly are you able to change your form so quickly? It seems as though you're breaking the law of mass conservation in the process."
Amil simply smiles back, a much less human smile since she was kind enough to shed the human shape. "Magic of course."
Thaddeus goes pale shortly before dashing from the room to fetch Cassandra, the compound's Psyker. Why? Mostly to make sure the Tyranid isn't using sorcery. Because the thought of a Hive Fleet in league with daemons is absolutely horrifying.
"Alright Amil. Do that again. With one of your arms if you please," Thaddeus requests.
The Tyranid is kind enough to obey, rapidly morphing a human-like hand into a massive scissor-pair of scythe claws in a fashion that makes the first law of thermodynamics weep in a corner alone and unloved.
Cassandra shakes her head, having been focused rather intently on the Xeno. "It's like looking into a black hole. But no, no sorcery. I'm not even sure if it-"
"She," the adept corrects. "Amil is a she."
The Psyker sighs. "I'm not even sure if she is drawing power from the Warp at all. I've haven't seen a Tyranid using psionics before, thank the Emperor. So I don't know if this is normal for them or not."
"But no sorcery?" Thaddeus prompts.
"No sorcery," Cassandra confirms. "Though I am a bit concerned with how friendly you're getting with this Filthy Xeno. You watch yourself, machine priest," she jabs a finger toward the Tyranid. "It has killed thirteen people that we know of. Get careless and it'll be fourteen. Or more. It is dangerous."
And with that she leaves the room.
"Am not!" Amil calls after Cassandra, sticking her tongue out in a rather mature fashion.
"Good morning Amil. I have your breakfast for you," Thaddeus announces, pushing the usual patter of unidentifiable slop through feeding tray. Though this morning something is rather amiss. Something that catches the Tyranid's attention. A small, red, roughly conical fruit.
"A strawberry? This is for me?" Amil asks, her tone somewhere between disbelief and joy. The Tyranid gingerly picks up the berry as if expecting it to disintegrate if she isn't careful.
"We had a shipment of them this morning. Everyone was allowed one. I thought you might like mine," the adept replies as he settles down at his desk. Amil gawks at him as he begins setting out tools and oils for the Repair Litany of Minor Devices. A microwave had broken earlier in the morning.
"I can't take this, Thaddeus," Amil states, setting the piece of fruit back down on the tray.
The adept just laughs a rather dry laugh. "I can't very well eat it now that you've touched it, can I? Protocol and all."
"Oh..." the Tyranid replies, picking the berry back up and carefully nibbling the end off the berry. "What are you doing?"
"Preparing to appease the machine spirit of this microwave. Someone put a fork in it again and now its spirit is dreadfully offended. If there's anything microwave spirits detest its offerings of metallic objects," Thaddeus grumbles. "I suspect it was Perseus or one of his toadies. They're always going out of their way to make my life miserable," a bit more grumbling before the adept adds darkly, "At least I have one fewer of them to worry about now..."
"Have you tried speaking with them about it?" Amil suggests, finally polishing off the berry and starting in on her slop. "Maybe if you told them about how their mistreatment makes you feel they would reconsider?"
Thaddeus just snorts. "Doubtful. They would probably just use it as an excuse to find new and imaginative ways to torment me."
"Maybe I could talk to them?" the Tyranid replies in a rather sly tone. "I'll bet I could convince them to leave you alone."
At that Thaddeus laughs. "I don't doubt your powers of persuasion far exceed mine. However you need to remain in your enclosure. And I doubt Perseus would be very moved by your request from behind twelve inches of sheet diamond."
And with that he begins the Litany for the microwave spirit. A great deal of application of holy tools and oils is required. Including the replacement of a few components. The spirit had been so offended that it caused several parts to burn out.
"What did you do?" Thaddeus demands as soon as he steps into the lab, his expression earnest though not necessarily upset.
Amil gives the adept a rather hurt look, though it's obviously a facade. It doesn't take an empath to realize how pleased she is with herself. Like a cat that just caught a bird. "What do you mean what did I do?" she inquires coyly.
"Perseus apologized to me. Openly. And not the sort of half-heated apology either I might expect if a superior had spoken to him. And he seemed afraid of something," Thaddeus walks up to the Tyranid's enclosure, placing a hand on the carbon wall. "What did you do, Amil?"
The Tyranid offers a smile full of teeth. "I asked him to leave you alone. I was very polite."
"That's impossible," the adept objects. "There's no way you could have dug your way out of that cage. There isn't a scratch on it. The doors to this lab are sealed when I leave. You couldn't have possibly escaped."
"I guess you're right, Thaddeus," the Tyranid replies. "I couldn't have gotten out. I guess he must have just had a change of heart then. That's very encouraging."
The adept shakes his head before dropping heavily into his chair.
If Amil could get out of that cage. And out of the lab... Both undetected. If she could sneak into the barracks and threaten Perseus... If she could do all that then she could have killed someone in their sleep. Or snuck out of the base. Or any number of unsavory things.
"How did you do it, Amil."
"By the Throne, Amil! This isn't a game," Thaddeus yells, pounding one hand on his desk. The sudden outburst from the usually quiet, reserved man is enough to make the Tyranid jump. "How did you get out? How did you do it?"
He's afraid. For himself and his fellow humans? Or for her? He isn't totally sure. And that just makes him all the more frightened.
"How did you do it, Amil?"
In a wink the Tyranid is gone. The pressure sensor on the floor doesn't register that her mass is missing... Maybe she's just invisi-
"The space between spaces," comes a voice from nowhere. Or maybe somewhere. A somewhere very much closer to Thaddeus than Amil's enclosure. "The time between moments. I slip through them. The same place I get the extra mass I use to modify myself."
The adept freezes, muscles tense, sweat running down his brow. Was that the Tyranid's breath he just felt? Or just the ventilation fans? "I need to tell my superiors about this..."
"What? No! Don't do that," the voice objects. "Here, I'll get back in my cage."
And then she is.
"Amil, I need to tell my superiors that you can escape. It's... It's too much of a risk. We can't allow you to be walking around the base freely. We-"
"I already have been. For several days," Amil replies, her tone still polite, though now with a dangerous edge the adept hadn't ever heard before. "I know where everything is. I know the routines. I know where they sleep. I know everything Pratt knew. And the four guardsmen I ate before I was gunned down, too. I could leave right now and sneak onto a ship and nothing could stop me."
"Then why don't you?" the adept inquires, asking the obvious question.
"If I escape now you'll be in trouble. I'm your responsibility, remember? You were kind enough to help me get my strength back. And I enjoyed speaking with you," Amil reasons. "But if I wait until I'm someone else's problem then you won't be to blame."
"Yes... Someone else's problem..."
The Magos biologists arrived about a week later, fascinated by the odd Tyranid and its singularly peculiar individuality. While some genestealers displayed similar behavior to a degree there had never been anything quite like this.
A Tyranid that would answer and ask questions? Truly fascinating. Though it was a real shame when the creature up and died shortly before more invasive, thorough testing of its nervous system and organs could be made. No doubt a defense to prevent itself from being probed too closely. That it's body released a potent plasma acid and dissolved itself (along with a sizable portion of the floor) after its death was even more disappointing.
The Magos biologists were all quite upset at this, but at least well documented notes had been made on the creature by the adept charged with keeping an eye on it.
A human woman, unremarkable and uninteresting, stands at the crest of a hill looking down at the waving grain-fields below. There's something about her... Something so dull and uninteresting that a passerby couldn't find it worth their time to take a second look.
Though if they overcame the psionic compulsion and did so they would no doubt notice that she isn't altogether human.
"That was a clever trick," Thaddeus comments as he walks toward her from behind. "With the melting dummy. Emperor above I hope you aren't going to make me regret this..."
Amil simply smiles at him with that disturbing not-quite-human face of her's. "Don't worry yourself. I'm just trying to get home. I'll be riding a freighter that passes near the Nexus anomaly. From there I'll just be a quick space-walk away."
"It's hard to believe everything you told me. About you being human once. Being born nearly thirty eight thousand years ago on some parallel version of Terra. Stumbling into that dreadful anomaly. It all seems too fantastical to be true."
"I know, right? Thanks for everything. For keeping my secret safe. For chatting with me. For the strawberry. I really liked the part where you stopped calling me a Filthy Xeno, too."
"You're still a Filthy Xeno," the adept laughs. "I wish you the best of luck. And if your soul is still human may the Emperor watch over it," and then he goes rather ridged when the Filthy Xeno grasps him in a hug and plants a kiss on his cheek.
Much flustered sputtering follows.
"Take care of yourself, Thaddeus!" Amil calls out as she jogs off toward the shuttle docks. "Keep up the good work on the toasters!"
One hand slowly rises to Thaddeus' cheek at he watches her depart. "...I wonder how many kinds of heresy that was..."
Warning! Random Encounter™ detected!
Zee is a perfectly normal human female. You suspect nothing!
Winifred 'Freddie' Fredrick
Souls Nommed: 657
Days Since Last Nomming: 0
Species: Barghest, Human, Snake, Lion Mixture
Profession: Test Subject
Power Rating: C+ to B. At the moment, he absolutely refuses to use his empathic abilities other than to eat the rage seeds that Elena has at times.
Description: He's a human male, with claws on his hands and feet, a snake-tail, and retractable snake teeth.
Personality: Friendly, loyal, and stubborn. He's human, for the most part, but with some odd cultural things.
Equipment: Clothes. Not much else. He could maybe be counted as having a Psychic Dampener, but he needs to give it away.
Abilities: He can howl like a Barghest, and eat emotions. He's also an empath, has snake teeth with sedative venom, and claws on his feet with the same. He can leap extremely long distances. His hand claws are not connected to his venom.
Backstory: Tirin was raised by Barghest. The Barghest from his universe have an advanced culture, which places a strong emphasis on atonement. There are lists of ways to atone for crimes listed with the legal punishments if not performed. Those raised in it are also taught how to judge the severity of harms caused. While his past doesn't affect him too much normally, as many of their cultural values are the same as human norms, this can cause problems when things like what recently occurred with Clarissa happen.
Tirin is going to marry Elena, as soon as AJ and Meli finish their cooperative testing so they can attend.
Tirin is married to Elena already. In this timeline, Elena is three weeks pregnant. Also, she's admitted to knowing more about Tirin's sister.
All versions of Tirin are bound by a Price exacted by the Wish Witch to be completely faithful to Elena. Basically, please don't make him forget this, or mind control him into acting against it, as he has no defenses against such things, and he can't wear a Psychic Dampener because it would keep him from using his empathic abilities.
Plague Rat in the Playground
Originally Posted by Cera
But... I suppose I have nothing to blow up that wouldn't result in our imminent doom, that would be beneficial.
Originally Posted by Moonwolf
Damn you and your comprehensive understanding of synergistic tactics. :|
Originally Posted by The Shroud, Lover's Bones
Evil is as evil does -
There's a black abyss where heaven was.
Burn in hell for your own desires,
Drain your blood to quench the fires.
Full name is Dolomedes, but she doesn't like it.
Race: Human with mecha-bits.
Description: This picture shows her body structure; she currently dresses in t-shirts, hoodie-jackets, and fingerless gloves for her six hands. Yes, she has metal teeth.
Now, about that body structure: she is capable of disengaging from the metal spiderbody, though when she does so all she has is her arms to move around on.
Also, she appears to be pregnant, and far along enough for it to show a little.
Now wears a necklace of small pieces of human bone.
Equipment: A rapier, two pairs of brass knuckles, a cutlass, and her spiderbody's internal audio system, with which she does her bard thing.
Personality: Meddy is a little moody, but kind and largely pleasant to be around. She isn't sure if she likes what's been done to her body, but she recognizes that it proves quite useful from time to time. She's pretty empathetic for those in need, having suffered it herself.
For a time she slipped into a habit of cannibalism, but has since renounced it in horror, prompting her to get herself to GLOG.
Backstory: Meddy had a pretty regular childhood and adolescence, went to bardic school (totally a thing), had a few flings and breakups... and then, about a few days after her 20th birthday, everything goes blank.
And then about a year later, things happen again. She doesn't remember what happened in that year period, but she does understand that 1) she lost her legs, 2) she got the spiderbody she now is equipped with, 3) she seemingly learned how to use her new lower half, and 4) she became pregnant (presumably near the end of this period).
Living on the streets and desperate, she still had her weapons and wus able to defend herself... and one night, starving, she succumbed to desperation and ate the flesh of the man she had killed in self-defense. At first it was simply needing to feed herself and her developing child, but later it became an acquired taste, an obsession
When she realized the full, disturbing reality of this fact, she fled to GLOG to get fized; so far she's not yet been taken on by a redemption supervisor, but has enjoyed cordial interaction with Timmy, Mark, and Brinika.
List of all HT characters in one place for her convenience. (moved to Nexus thread, in case Acro thread gets locked one day.) This post does not need to be indexed. Power ratings in parentheses.
Alice Delisle - Remnant Major, formerly ISF and assigned to Mortal Coil as an adjutant of sorts - 1st husband was emotionally abusive and she divorced him. 2nd husband was a fellow soldier named David who died in combat
Billie Jean - has a jaunty hat
Brand Applehill and wife Pansy, 8 year old son Tito, 7 year old daughter Lily - rescued slaves who live at GLoG and work as cooks
Brian Starling - current leader of Charlie's Family
Cecily - a Jaeger with a spiffy hat who owns a walking hut as her hat shop, created by Trollfinger, Ironpick & Greencheek, Mining & Engineering (C)
Charity Evans - artist / chromamancer / hedonist / binge drinker. ex-Member of GLoG. Currently training to be a medic. (E)
Charlotta - girlfriend of Sue of Mortal Coil, mother of 6 year old Lottie, cheating on Sue with a man named Mortimer
Tracey Elton - trans woman Remnant soldier, formerly Matthew Smith
Vita - twin sister to Felis, niece of the late ruler of Thessoloniki, carrier of the sacred flame of Vesta (C)
Winslow Warwick - Villainous industrialist who has a past with Magtok. Runs Warwick Works Inside. (E)
Whisper - Slave caravan plot, fae girl
Xifra - a woman who spent most of her life with an always-on 'don't notice me' psychic field. Her brother Algu has the opposite psychic condition. She has since learned to turn off her field with magic, and is a worshiper of Slaanesh.
Rilayne aka Crazy Aunt Riley - 500 year old drow vampire who is a bit batty and ever so devoted to her family
Vasilisa - Aspect of Mother Eve. Married-ish to Adam, for purposes of breeding catpeople (D)
Vinicio "Vino" D'Angelis - an unturned human member of the Riverside Vampire society. Great great etc nephew of Ramiro. Has a past with Rose. Licensed vampire hunter and Air Adept. Has a wife named Claudia and a son named Petros.
Name: Forsan Darenk Gender: Male Species:Krogan Age: 72 Class/Profession: Gun and Muscle for Hire Power Rating: B- Description: Darenk is, like all Krogan, a hulking, wide lizard-like humanoid covered in turtle-like scales and, in some places, thick hide. He has a large hump growing out of his back, rising above his head - again, a standard part of Krogan anatomy. His skin is mossy green and his hide is dark brown. He wears heavy armor like this, only it's dark green. Personality: At a first glance, Darenk is dim even by Krogan standards. He doesn't talk much and communicates mostly in grunts. The appearances are decieving, though -Darenk is actually pretty clever and just assumes the guise of a dumb brute to catch people off-guard. He's got something of a twisted sense of humor and likes to see people dumbfounded when he does something they'd never expect him to. Equipment: Apart from his Armor, Darenk has three weapons - a shotgun, an assault rifle and a handgun. They all use mass effect technology for bullet propulsion and can be folded so as to take less space. He's got an ammo supply as well, and his weapons chew through it slowly. Abilities: As a Krogan, Darenk is incredibly tough to kill or even stop. His thick hide stops attacks even if he's unarmored. His biology means he's got a replacement for every organ and even a secondary neural system. Finally, he's got 240-degree vision.
As far as his taught abilities go, Darenk is a soldier - he knows how to shoot and fight hand-to-hand very well. He's trained in the use of non-standard ammunition for his weapons, meaning he can shoot incendiary or proton bullets when needed. Backstory: To come later.
My FFRP characters. Avatar by Kid Kris. Sigatars by Gulaghar, Kid Kris, Zefir and billtodamax, respectively.
Description: Umeko is athletic and well toned, a fact usually made obvious as her clothing of choice leaves her arms and shoulders mostly bare- however, she is not particularly tall, managing only a few inches over five feet. She keeps her black hair at a moderate length, above the shoulder, but not closely cut, and in a style that won't get in the way of her dark brown eyes. Umeko's style of dress is fairly casual and involves an abundance of pockets, none of which go unused.
Personality: In many ways, Magister is a professional. She's clever, capable, and absolutely ruthless when it comes to getting the job done. Maybe she doesn't have a plan for everything, but she always has options and contingencies waiting to be utilized in an appropriate situation. She gets the job done as best she can, deals with what she can't do, and rarely backs down from a contract. That said, Magister is far more relaxed, pleasant and informal than one might expect, and is very much inclined to improvise rather than come at things with a set plan of attack. Further, she may have a few principles, but one of her highest principles is looking after herself, and she will quite quickly abandon and turn on anything that might get in the way of her own survival and needs.
Equipment: Magister's greatest strength is that she always has the right equipment for the job. Her typical cargo pants are packed with gadgets and devices, and when she doesn't have what she needs on her, she is terrifyingly proficient at using mundane objects in unexpected ways to achieve the effect she desires. It is exceedingly difficult to put Magister in any kind of situation where she would be considered unarmed.
Abilities: Broadly trained in many useful mercenary skills, Magister is a martial artist, tactician and weapons master who is also fairly talented at espionage, and has a great deal of proficiency with a wide variety of modern technology. Ultimately, however, Magister is a normal human specimen, albeit a one of exceptional talent and capability.
Backstory: Interestingly enough, Umeko started off in the police force, but what she experienced there made her much more worldly and 'practical.' Due to this, she eventually tired of her position and opted to join a widespread mercenary company, where she distinguished herself over the years she worked there. Towards the end of her time, she was receiving numerous solo contracts and clashing with her superiors, which prompted her to work as an independent mercenary, taking on the title Magister to distinguish herself. Eventually her continuing search for contracts led her to Nexus.
Alignment: Chaotic Good with Chaotic Neutral tendencies.
Power Rating: C or 4.
Description: Kyinde is a small humanoid fox with white fur, brown human-like hair worn in a ponytail and sharp blue eyes. Her usual outfit consists of a light blue dress designed with warmth in mind, a golden or silver headband, and a charm of some sort around her neck. She rarely wears shoes.
Personality: Kyinde is clever and energetic, with a love of adventure and combat. Most of the time, she's cheerful, doesn't take things very seriously, and likes to get into friendly little duels. However, when she does get seriously provoked, her fearsomeness is no laughing matter.
Equipment: Kyinde normally doesn't carry much with her, although she has a short sword and some miscellaneous trinkets.
Abilities: Kyinde has high natural agility and resistance to cold. In addition, she's quite skilled with ice magic, and is also learning to cast ice spells backwards as fire spells.
Backstory: Not much is known about Kyinde's past, and she doesn't bring it up much given how little it matters to her. It's believed that she was initially of high standing among her people, she committed an act of betrayal, and she was exiled for it, but only she knows why she betrayed her people in the first place. She doesn't consider any of her history very important, preferring to focus on the present.
Miscellaneous: Kyinde's magical aura, when visible, has a pale blue colour.
When in doubt, use cute little dragons.
Kenneth Walker “Oh joy, another holier-than-thou paladin. Just don’t chop my head off, I‘m not the best tailor.”
Alias: N/A Gender: Male Race/Species: Zombie, formerly human Age: 45 (died at 39) Class/Profession: Former Duke of England
Description: He’s 5’11, and 165 lb. (steadily getting lighter.) What hair he has left is black. Fair amounts of the hair on his head are long gone, though he still has most of his goatee. Some of his skin has decomposed, leaving the muscles underneath it visible.
For a zombie, Kenneth dresses pretty well. He wears black trousers, and a blue coat, which seems to be designed to let onlookers know that he is nobility.
Personality: In life, Kenneth was a kind, selfless person, who made sure he treated as many people fairly as possible. This is probably one of the reasons he was so popular among his subject, and such a high-priority target of assassins.
Unfortunately, he’s a zombie now. He hasn’t lost any of his intelligence, but being undead has made him very jaded and bitter. One too many clerics. He still has the same selflessness he did when alive, he just can’t find a reason to exercise it.
He occasionally feels the need to consume human flesh, as is expected of all zombies. However, he finds the very idea abhorrent, as does his best to resist that need.
Equipment: Kenneth has a rapier at his side, though he no longer has the speed to use it with any efficiency.
Abilities: Being intelligent and undead can have its perks. It’s difficult to kill Kenneth, as he doesn’t need to eat, breathe, etc. If a limb is severed, he can still move it. Even if he is decapitated, he can guide his body to him.
Additionally, he’s resistant to being turned, because of his intelligence.
Unfortunately, as a zombie, Kenneth has lost his former reflexes. He’s rather slow, at best. He was once quite the swordsman, but now can barely swing a blade at all.
He's beginning to teach himself necromancy, as a means of keeping himself from decaying.
Backstory: Once a duke, loved by his subjects. He was a fair and just ruler. This might have been the primary reason he was assassinated (as well as his lack of children or any sort of heir), but he doesn’t really care. When he was killed, quite a few mages made attempts to bring him back. They succeeded, sort of. He ended up a rare example of a sapient zombie. Although he retained his personality, intelligence, and speech capabilities, he became feared, if for understandable reasons (such as skin that is still rotting.)
Because he was still alive, Kenneth decided on his heir before giving up his throne. He traveled the world, and met many people (some of which didn‘t scream or try to kill him.) Eventually, he ended up in the Nexus.
Alias: Subject X942-R Race: R-class void entity(Artificially created and modified humanoid, looks something like a Maw of Acamar: http://www.wizards.com/DnD/Article.a...d/4ex/20090417) Age: Unknown. Gender: N/A Alignment: True Neutral (could become evil or good, if someone gives him a good reason...) Profession: Test Subject Affiliations: None...yet. Class: (See Abilties) Power Rating: B+
Description: Rekrul is 5'10, and weighs about 120 lbs. As mentioned before, he looks like a Maw of Acamar. He wears a combat suit that he acquired while in the test lab. His eyes glow white when he's concentrating.
Personality: Rekrul is naturally curious due to his creation by science. He is usually calm, and, when faced with a problem, will think about what to do carefully, weighing his options.
Not fully connected to existence, Rekrul speaks in Dim Gray
Equipment: The previously-mentioned combat suit, a black cloak, a custom-made gauntlet that helps channel his powers and can generate an energy blade, and various weapons, including concussion grenades, and his Phase Rifle, a sniper rifle that fires silent energy beams.
Abilities: Rekrul can fire beams of energy, disrupt magic effects, fade in and out of reality for a short time (like Ethereal Jaunt, in the 3.5 PHB, however this uses a lot of energy.), teleport small distances, (about 5-10 feet) create a short-lived force barrier, and he also has some abilities he can't use yet. However, if he uses too much energy, he will fade out of reality and be unable to do anything for a while, with more power used meaning more time. He is also quite good at building devices, due to knowledge implanted in his brain.
Background: Rekrul was created by an organization as a living weapon, as well as a test to see if void energies were possible to control. The facility was destroyed when its generator overloaded, causing a massive explosion, and Rekrul barely survived. The Umbrella Corporation found him in the wreckage.
Miscellaneous: Pretty much perma-deadtimed.
Running a Warlock in a 3.5 game. Because Warlocks are fun.
Dragons are officially awesome. All arguments against this are null and void.
Alignment: It Varies
Power Rating: 3 / D+
Description: Dark brown hair resembling "bedhead", brown eyes, fair skin, shirt he wears under his armor varies but he isn't caught dead without his brown pants, which have 6 pockets total.
Personality: Happy-go-lucky, will soon change
Equipment: Longsword and kite shield, leather torso and boots, iron helmet, 6-Pocket Pants, Bag of Holding
Abilities: Average fighter, somewhat fast noncombat travel when compared to individuals without a mount
Backstory: He just started adventuring. Anything else to come later.
Misc: Nothing, really, save for potential editing in the future.
Name: Eldron Versiathes
Age:270 years which makes him look to be about 30
Alignment: Neutral Good
Description:Eldron is strong, muscular, and tall for an elf. His hair instead of being a shining blonde has brown hairs throughout it, noting a mixture of blood was in his ancestors. His nose is blunt because in his battles it has been broken several times by foes and he has always refused magical healing because he believes that it is a reminder to fight better. His armor is mithral and has a blue sheen to it and has gold inlaid in spectacular patterns all over it and it magically makes his step lighter and allows him to move faster. His cloak is a robe of eyes which is also blue and the eyes actually blink as he moves about and they focus and refocus on the room that he is in and the people or objects around him. He carries his rapier "Songwind" with him and his shield "Halldancer" is slung across his back. His shield is something to note. It is not an elven shield, it is dwarven, showing that he is a friend amongst at least one of the many Dwarf Clans. "Songwind" looks just like his armor and when he draws and uses it in battle it sings a beautiful enchanting melody that entices his enemies to lower their weapons and to surrender.
Personality:Eldron is a happy and comforting fellow. He is quick to help those that need help defending themselves. He likes to crack jokes (mostly puns) and enjoys making people groan when he tells a particularly good bad joke. Because of his years of leadership, he has developed a fiery voice to inspire others so he speaks in red
Equipment:Robe of Eyes, Rapier of Suggestion, Mithral armor of speed, Ring of Charisma, Belt of Strength, and Shield of the Mountain Hall
Backstory:Eldron isn't a High Elf, just a lucky half-elf. His father took a human as his mate and a few months later, Eldron was born. Eldron inherited all of the physical features of an elf with only a few bits of his human heritage showing on him. On the inside, however, he is very much human, being comfortable among whoever he encounters, more bulky then other elves, and less aloof then those who raised him. As his father was an elder where Eldron grew up, he had priveledges. He trained to be an officer in the Home Guard of his homeland and though smart and diligent, he was always scorned by his classmates. He fought through this and after graduating he rose quickly to become a Marshal in the Home Guard. At the height of his career, he lost to a band of orcs and was presumed dead. When he returned home some days later, his funeral had already taken place and his position filled. Instead of returning and ruining his replacement's newly earned position, he left and he has been roaming since that day 10 years ago.
Last edited by Craftworld : 08-31-2011 at 09:30 PM.
Alias: Gaddiyel is the name he adopted upon waking up in the Nexus, as he'd lost most of his memories. Michael Fortuna is his real name.
Race/Species: More-or-less human. Michael is superficially similar to a human; his actual anatomy is completely alien, however.
Age: Ninety-eight; however, his appearance is similar to a human around 17-18 years of age. Michael is barely old enough to be considered a young adult by his species's standards.
Alignment: Neutral good. Michael is actually dedicated to few distinct ideals. His moral compass consists mostly of simple compassion for others. He follows an ancient religion dedicated to Fate itself, which he believes to be aware and intelligent; in his own time, he was thought of as something of a prophet. This religion has few commandments, but respect and kindness towards others are important parts of its teachings.
Class/Profession: A gifted practicioner of magic; though he wasn't the greatest mage of his time, the level of mastery he has at his young age was once considered truly remarkable.
Power level: Michael is stronger and faster than the average human, and his magical power is extraordinary but limited in versatility.
Description: Michael looks like a young human in his late teens. His skin is rather pale, almost gray. His hair is an unusual dark blue and is kept short, though it seems a bit unkempt now. His eyes are a light shade of gray with slit-like pupils. He's lean but muscular; a few odd scars here and there make it seem like he's seen combat.
Personality: Michael is a kind-hearted man. He is generally humble and polite, and acts much older than his appearance would suggest.
Equipment: Michael has little in the way of equipment, possessing only an old dagger from his days as a warrior. The dagger carries an unusual enchantment, however - its edge is magically blunt and cannot penetrate even bare skin, but a blow from the dagger saps the willpower of its victim. A relic from a war against enemies whose hearts and minds were more dangerous than their swords and shields.
Abilities: Michael is highly skilled in ancient magical arts. These arts, called "Ahog Ver" by his people, focus on the manipulation of life energy, and may actually be considered dark magic in this day and age. Most of Ahog Ver's uses are subtle: manipulating the will of others, reading minds, healing wounds, clouding perceptions, and the like. It can be used for more straightforward purposes, like limited telekinesis and setting fires, it just isn't as effective in those areas.
Backstory: A bit of a wall of text, so it's spoilered. In summary, he was chosen by Fate to lead a rebellion against a tyrant in the primal days of the universe. After his final battle to save Fate from being enslaved by the tyrant, he woke up without any memories in the Nexus. He's since regained most of his memories, and is now seeking a purpose in this strange new world.
Michael Ares Fortuna hails from eons past, during the reign of Dantalion, the so-called "Star Emperor". In ages long before any mortal's memory - beyond even the racial memory of the aboleths, and beyond the knowledge of almost any god - Dantalion ruled an empire that dwarfed any that has existed since. It spanned across distance immeasurable; over countless planes and planets Dantalion ruled supreme.
But Dantalion was a tyrant. He was a wizard of unparalleled power, in the days before there were gods of magic to restrict the mortals' use of such things. He could create planes or destroy them, move the stars through the sky, and control the minds of thousands of people at a whim. So vast was his empire that even death could not free one from his absolute rule; he ruled the land of the dead as well as the land of the living.
But no tyrant remains eternally unchallenged, even one as powerful as Dantalion. And so it was that on a backwater plane on the edges of civilization was born a boy named Michael Ares Fortuna. It was once said that Michael was not born from any mortal woman, but instead plucked from the stars - but even the memory of the legend that once surrounded his life has long since faded away.
Michael lived an ordinary life, for the most part. Gifted in the ways of magic, he was recruited into the Imperial army at the young age of twenty. He was sent out to the borders of the empire, to a minor demiplane called Celestia. For fifty years, he served his empire with distinction, suppressing riots among the subjugated natives, defeating plots of insurrection, and helping to secure the continued stability of that corner of the empire.
On his sixty-third birthday, however, Michael had an epiphany. A vision came to him in his dreams that night - a strange and dizzying whirlwind of stars, falling to the ground and being caught and held in the hands of a shadowy silhouette - a man the size of a mountain, with eyes like burning coals. A voice spoke to him, sounding like a thousand whispers, telling him that the Shadowed Man was trapping the stars, plucking them out of the sky and stealing their light. The stars' patterns of light and darkness, so carefully woven, showing the fate of all things beneath their light, were being irreverently torn apart by the Shadowed Man.
That Shadowed Man, they told him, was the Emperor Dantalion. And the stars had decreed it was his destiny to save fate itself from the Star Emperor.
Michael never doubted for a moment the truth of his vision; he knew it in his heart and soul. He raised an army of the angels of Celestia, who seemed to know of his vision. They traveled the outskirts of the empire for years, liberating countless minor settlements and peoples and slowly building a great army to challenge the Star Emperor. Michael became known as a sort of prophet, heralding fate's decree that the tyranny of Dantalion would soon end. Fate itself cloaked Michael from the tyrant's watchful eye, blinding Dantalion to his fast-approaching doom.
On the fifth anniversary of Michael's vision, they began their invasion, striking at a major Imperial city. In that glorious battle, it seemed the stars themselves sided with Michael - the sun vanished from the sky, replaced by a thousand glittering stars. The stars shielded Michael's army from the retribution of Dantalion's magic, rendering the mighty sorcerer all but impotent, and Michael's army crushed Dantalion's soldiers with ease.
That first victory was the spark that ignited an inferno. Rebellion swept the Empire as Dantalion's image of invincibility was shattered. For the next thirty years, a vast and bloody war engulfed most of the known universe, as Dantalion pitted his loyalist armies and unimaginable personal power against the innumerable rebels lead by Michael. Though Michael's presence seemed to act as a talisman against the Emperor's power, he was only one man. No matter how bright the sparks of rebellion, without Michael's protection any rebellion was doomed to fail, often in an onslaught of magical wrath that left entire planes tattered or destroyed. The rebellion was failing horribly, with only those gathered beneath Michael's personal command surviving to strike against the Empire. And in the meanwhile, the universe itself was becoming torn and broken from the power of the warring armies.
Michael knew this, so in the last weeks of the war he launched a final, desperate campaign against the Star Emperor, seeking to penetrate into the Imperial Palace and confront Dantalion personally - something that no man or woman or beast had ever before done. Though it cost the lives of many of his followers, he eventually succeeded, reaching the heart of the Empire. Michael found his way to Dantalion's throne, the seat of his power and authority, his genius and madness: the Star Engine.
Dantalion had stolen countless stars from the skies of countless worlds, slowly constructing from them an engine of fate that would allow him to control the destiny of the entire universe - a feat of magic and madness unimaginable to all who live today. Michael met Dantalion in the heart of the great Engine, and there they dueled. Fate's chosen was pitted against Fate's usurper in a struggle that has seen no equal since.
How long they fought not even Michael knows. Perhaps there is no actual answer - time has no place in the home of fate. But in the end, Michael was victorious - or so he thought. As he prepared to strike the killing blow, Dantalion released a final blast of energy, shattering his Star Engine. Fate was thrown into disarray, and the two of them were thrown into nothingness.
He found himself in the Nexus, suffering from a temporary bout of amnesia. With the help of a local witch, Michael soon regained his memory, and is now seeking a purpose in this bizarre new world he's found himself in.
Miscellaneous: Well, I should mention that this is my first time doing free form. This is an adaptation of an old D&D character I really liked but never saw much use. Any feedback would be much appreciated!
Last edited by M. Mayonnaise : 10-22-2013 at 12:00 AM.
Description: Liata is a small, dark woman with braided black hair and sharp silver eyes. She normally wears dark leather and a black cloak.
Personality: Liata is stern and cynical on the outside, but underneath that she's honourable and well-meaning. She struggles between being the benevolent person she wants to be and the harsh person her past made her into. She also has a bit of a prejudice against dragons.
Equipment: Liata usually carries little aside from her sabre and her thieving toolkit.
Abilities: Stealth- and thieving-related skills, along with minimal healing magic.
Backstory: Liata's family consisted of the descendants of a legendary figure known as Terise the Shield, who once protected their homeland. All of the Terise family followed in her footsteps, being healers or defenders of the land, and Liata intended to continue family tradition.
However, things changed when a group of evil dragons began to see the Terise family as a threat to their power, and conspired to annihilate them. When the dragons attacked, only Liata escaped alive, and she was young, untrained, and without allies.
Thus, as she grew up, she took a darker path from her ancestors and became a vagabond. She lived by her wits and her blade, and was frequently forced to struggle and commit acts she considered reprehensible just to survive. This gradually shaped her into the bitter person she is today.
Miscellaneous: Liata's magical aura, when visible, has a silver colour.
When in doubt, use cute little dragons.
Name: Lausel Krasser
Alias: The Isolator, The Shield
Race: Nekocarde (A strange and rather barbaric offshoot from normal catpeople)
Power Level: B- or so
Class/Profession: Exile (a Nekocarde occult/theological term), something good with shields.
Description: Lausel is a Nekocarde, about 5'7" tall. Her hair (and the fur on her ears and tail) is dark brown streaked with red, and her eyes are maroon. Her skin had been tannish, but that's been fading since she's rarely been exposed to sunlight for a while. Her skin is tattooed in blood-red; a θ is placed at:
her navel, the back and palm of each hand, the back of the neck, the sole and top of each foot, the inside and outside of each elbow and knee, in the cleft of her bosom, at her lower back, and on each shoulder and hip.
These theta symbols are each about the size of an American quarter coin. Her other tattoos are a vertical line down each eyelid, something resembling a ˇ under each eye, and a wavy line running along each limb.
Her hair is about shoulderblade-length. Her ears have many piercings and a few nicks taken out of them; her tail has a few metal and bone rings on it. She is lithe and sleekly muscular, but hasn't been eating enough and thus looks a bit underfed. Her top left incisor is a metal replacement.
Clothing: First there's the armor. Metal plates attached to leather and canvas, they come as a sort of pair of armored chaps, heavy boots, a kilted belt, an armored vest, and armored whole-arm gloves. There's also the helmet (http://images.wikia.com/redwall/imag...9/Tsarmina.jpg). Under this she's only got what's basically underwear. The armor has pieces that lock into her Frame.
Her normal clothes are a pair of rugged pants, the kilted belt from her armor, boots, a dull leather top, and a canvas jacket.
Abilities: Lausel is strong and agile, wielding her katar-shield well. Her senses are pretty sharp as well.
She can cast some magic, though not a whole lot.
Equipment: She has a katar-shield, a sort of oval-shaped shield about 3 feet long that is worn on the forearm. A retractable blade is housed in the end closest to the hand, and a retractable spike in the end closest to the elbow. This weapon can block, bludgeon, slash, and pierce (usually only one at a time). It can turn into a bracelet worn by Lausel.
The Frame is a square-shaped metal frame into which the wrists and ankles of her armorset can be locked; at its bottom is a set of mechanical spidery legs.
Age:It doesn't know.
Alignment:N (It protects humanoid creatures)
Description:If Golem were to stand still it would look like a piece of iron art, it is so masterfully crafted. It stands 9' tall and when it moves there is no sound of scraping or grating metal like most iron golems but instead just a gentle whirring of gears and cogs. It has a pair of large blades on its forearms that are only barely visible when it is not in combat mode, but when in combat mode they extend out and catch fire. It looks like a truly tall human male with a long iron beard and moustache on its face. It speaks with a very gravely voice so it speaks in gray.
Personality:Being a Golem, Golem has no personality and only has two emotions, calm (normal) and anger (when in guard mode). It does have a few quirks however. It does "enjoy" juggling and is actually quite good at it and can juggle 8 balls at a time. (If it looks at the locket, a new emotion appears...sadness, it is sad that it did not protect its...friend.)
Equipment:A broken locket.(inside is a picture of Golem's dead master. A little girl that it was suppossed to protect...but she is gone.)
Abilities:Golem is as strong as an elephant and as strong as two when in guard mode. It is very quick thinking but only attacks another if it senses harm is coming to itself or to a humanoid around it.
Golem was a project that the Great Amir of Alavia commissioned to protect his daughter from any threat. The project took 7 months to complete but after those 7 months the Golem stepped into the throne room and greeted its new assignment, Princess Hamia. For 10 years the Golem guarded the girl until on her 18th birthday and her wedding day disaster struck. The Great Amir was a ambitious man and his ambition worried the Kingdoms to the south. They decided to take preemptive action and decided to attack. They attacked on Hamia's wedding day so as to maximise the surprise of the attack. They quickly overcame the lowered guard numbers and swept into the city. At the gates to the High Chapel it was Golem who held the doors against wave after wave of attackers, scything down enemy soldiers as if they were not but wheat before the scythe. As another wave was attacking, a cannon was wheeled and pointed toward the smashed doors of the Chapel. The cannoneers took aim and fired an explosive shell. It sailed past the Golem to impact where the Princess, and her family were hiding. It exploded, killing Hamia and her family. Golem flew into its elemental beserk rage and single handedly sent the enemy army to flight. The night before Hamia had given it a locket. She called it her "only true friend" and kissed it on its iron cheek. The locket was damaged during the battle but its chain has held it on its neck since that day. It wandered the deserts, away from its slaughtered city until one day it found a glowing portal. This my friends, is where we pick the story of Golem the Protector up.
Alias: Ninja Doctor Male Age: 28 Race: Human Alignment: Good Profession: Medical Advisor Power Rating: B- Description: He always wears a ninja mask and a gi. He has tanned skin and brown eyes. He has cropped brown hair and a cute little goatee. His hair can turn into tentacles though. Personality: To be developed IC Equipment: A large collection of katanas, shurikans, and other ninja gear. Ablities: He's a ninja, 'nuff said. Back Story: Dave grew up like a normal kid born into a ninja family. Constantly fighting for his life in training exercises, being locked into a room with an orangoutang covered in blades, etc.....
He had to kill his mother when he was 13. This made him want to become a doctor so he could cure people with her disease that caused her to go insane. He once tried to kill Jane Dorloris, but things changed.
Alias: Cloned Nympho Female Age: 19 Race: Human(among other things) Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Profession: Plastic Surgeon Power Rating: D- Description:*A slightly tall woman, she has waist length Power Ranger Red hair and a cat tail with red fur. Two red furred cat ears are on her head. The skin on her hips are a crimson red. She has green eyes. Personality: To be developed IC Equipment: Nothing much but clothes Ablities: Nothing but she's an accomplished Plastic Surgeon. Back Story:*When Elena was 2, Umbrella was afraid that they would lose their progress. So they cloned her 9 times, each clone was flawed though. They had to stop splicing parts onto Elena, but they continued on the clones. Alene was made to be a great plastic surgeon, but her flaw is that she strips people in her sleep.
Alias: Clone Genius Female Age: 20 Race: Human(among other things) Alignment: Good Profession: Neurologist/Robotics Engineer/Genetics Engineer Power Rating: D- Description:**A slightly tall woman, she has waist length jet black hair and a cat tail with black fur. Two black furred cat ears are on her head and she even has some whiskers. The skin on her hips are a crimson red. She has green eyes. Personality: To be developed IC Equipment: Nothing much but a closet full of robots, tools, and clothes Ablities: Nothing really, but she is a Neurologist, a Genetic Engineer, and a Robotics Expert. Back Story: When Elena was 2, Umbrella was afraid that they would lose their progress. So they cloned her 9 times, each clone was flawed though. They had to stop splicing parts onto Elena, but they continued on the clones. Megan was made to be a genius, but her flaw is that she becomes jealous quite easily.