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Fantasy A N N O . P R O F A N A . 2042 ✟ CS
- Thread starter Lekiel
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Lekiel
Two Thousand Club
“Do only one thing. . . survive.”
NOTE: If you would like to post your CS in code, make sure there is a mobile-friendly version or provide one.
CS Details:
Link To Writing: (Link me your best writing work)
Name:
Age: (22-50, all human races age the same way as normal humans. Remember, your age affects your characters abilities. Nobody is born extraordinary, but everyone can make themselves extraordinary through effort and experience.)
Gender:
Race: (Human: No limit, Sanguineus: limit 2 minimum 1, Vampire: limit 3, Werewolf: limit 3, Witch: Limit 3 minimum 2)
Physical Desc.: (Height, body built, hair colour, eye colour and any other distinguishing features)
Face-claim: (Include picture. Real person or realistic art)
Profession: (Recommended: Division 13 Specialist)
Capabilities: (If non-base human, detail your character's experience with their racial traits. If Witch, detail roughly their most proficient spells (2-3, you are not limited to this. But I just want to make sure everyone is on the same power level page).)
Equipment:
Hand-Hand Combat: (Standard police training and any extra details etc. etc. don't need to be detailed)
Firearm Proficiency: (how good are you with a gun)
Additional Skills:
Personality: (at least 2 negative and 2 positive)
Background:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Theme Song:
Name:
Age: (22-50, all human races age the same way as normal humans. Remember, your age affects your characters abilities. Nobody is born extraordinary, but everyone can make themselves extraordinary through effort and experience.)
Gender:
Race: (Human: No limit, Sanguineus: limit 2 minimum 1, Vampire: limit 3, Werewolf: limit 3, Witch: Limit 3 minimum 2)
Physical Desc.: (Height, body built, hair colour, eye colour and any other distinguishing features)
Face-claim: (Include picture. Real person or realistic art)
Profession: (Recommended: Division 13 Specialist)
Capabilities: (If non-base human, detail your character's experience with their racial traits. If Witch, detail roughly their most proficient spells (2-3, you are not limited to this. But I just want to make sure everyone is on the same power level page).)
Equipment:
Hand-Hand Combat: (Standard police training and any extra details etc. etc. don't need to be detailed)
Firearm Proficiency: (how good are you with a gun)
Additional Skills:
Personality: (at least 2 negative and 2 positive)
Background:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Theme Song:
NOTE: Currently thinking of having a maximum of 8 approved profiles.
The Cast
coded by weldherwings.
Last edited:
Lekiel
Two Thousand Club
Last edited:
Straw-Berry Milk
Princess of Berry Bliss
Lekiel
Two Thousand Club
Last edited:
Sylvio
WOOOO
code by RI.a
Last edited:
Vagabond
A Lonesome Traveler
dossier
biography
extra
Alpheus Xie
谢以誠
code by Nano
Last edited:
Inb4Cloaker
Vibing
Khaled Al-Assad
Name: Khaled Al-Assad
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Ethnicity: Palestinian
Affiliation: OCONUS Insurgent
Height: 6’1”
Weight: 170 lbs
Face Claim: Cristian Condrin
سوف نتغلب
Last edited:
xuanan
Junior Member
Anaïs looked unsettled, and Levy reveled in it. The young woman exuded confidence in every area. The cement on the sidewalk seemed to bow under her heels, sending ripples of murmurs and gossip through the working-class Manhattan crowds. But no one could tame the ocean. Not Christopher Columbus or Queen Elizabeth or the Spanish Armada. Nobody. That was why Levy liked it. If the sea so desired it, you could lose control and spiral into a low-lying sandbar at high tide and get stranded until some poor bloke had to come out and help you, perhaps also getting stuck in the process. It was nice, the lack of control.
“The wind’s changing directions, I’m gonna swing the sail,” he said, nonchalant. The low metal boom at the bottom of the sail rotated toward Anaïs with a rusty groan of protest. It didn’t hit her, but it sure came close. Levy ducked under the boom so he could sit next to her again, just to catch a glimpse of her white-blonde hair all wild and billowing in the sea breeze like a wedding veil. He heard her talking, but the words were swallowed by the wind and she mimicked the appearance of a fish out of water, mouth gaping randomly without any sound coming out. His slender lips curled back in amusement at the thought, but then he caught the words “luxury ship” and immediately snapped to attention. “That’s what they’re called, then? A luxury ship,” he repeated at a mumble. Then Anaïs continued, about the lavish furniture and the illustrious parties. Her mother and father had danced? By her tender tone, he could almost imagine their elegant movements in the ballroom in his head.
Levy had seen Anaïs’ father only in glimpses. It was like he’d seen the man in a distant, forgettable dream, and for some reason the most memorable thing about him was that he recalled the man’s extremely pointy nose. You could jab through a deer’s heart with that nose. He looked very European in the photos Levy had seen of him, the ones scattered around the house in unsuspecting places that Lucius would probably never stumble across. In the window of the kitchen that Lucius never entered, in the washing room that Lucius would not dare look in the direction of for fear of losing some aspect of his masculinity. He couldn’t imagine his father dancing with anybody, especially not with his delicate dormouse of a wife. His feet were too clumsy and heavyset. Anaïs sounded upset now, but Levy couldn’t see her expression because he was sitting behind her, so he just waited like a dead anchor, watching her on the hull. Before he knew it, in one swift movement she’d pulled a slim pistol from her pocket. The gunmetal gleamed brighter than any sailor’s star in the dying sunlight. It was an older model, but the quality, as always, was exquisite. He imagined a ten year-old Anaïs receiving, of all things, an M1911 for her birthday. He wondered if she treasured it then as much as she did now. She was the kind of female devil to feign delight at an underwhelming gift, then toss it out as soon as the giver’s back had turned. Sometimes they didn’t know what their gifts were worth until it almost slipped between their fingers.
Lost in this reverie, it took him a moment to realize that the cold thing pressed against his forehead was not actually his long hair dripping with sweat, but the mouth of a pistol. An M1911.
“That’s not funny, Anaïs, I—“ he stumbled back as the pistol clicked, but there was nowhere to stumble back to. By the time he realized the gun wasn’t loaded, he was already falling off of The Nightingale. Moments later he landed in the water with a resounding splash. A flock of bubbles took flight from his nose and mouth like white cranes. When he emerged to the surface, trying to stir up as much water as possible to splash Anaïs, he gave her a pout. His finer clothes weighed heavy on his back, and despite the cold shock of the ocean, he fumbled to unbutton his shirt and toss it upon the sailboat. “That was cruel, you know.”
“The wind’s changing directions, I’m gonna swing the sail,” he said, nonchalant. The low metal boom at the bottom of the sail rotated toward Anaïs with a rusty groan of protest. It didn’t hit her, but it sure came close. Levy ducked under the boom so he could sit next to her again, just to catch a glimpse of her white-blonde hair all wild and billowing in the sea breeze like a wedding veil. He heard her talking, but the words were swallowed by the wind and she mimicked the appearance of a fish out of water, mouth gaping randomly without any sound coming out. His slender lips curled back in amusement at the thought, but then he caught the words “luxury ship” and immediately snapped to attention. “That’s what they’re called, then? A luxury ship,” he repeated at a mumble. Then Anaïs continued, about the lavish furniture and the illustrious parties. Her mother and father had danced? By her tender tone, he could almost imagine their elegant movements in the ballroom in his head.
Levy had seen Anaïs’ father only in glimpses. It was like he’d seen the man in a distant, forgettable dream, and for some reason the most memorable thing about him was that he recalled the man’s extremely pointy nose. You could jab through a deer’s heart with that nose. He looked very European in the photos Levy had seen of him, the ones scattered around the house in unsuspecting places that Lucius would probably never stumble across. In the window of the kitchen that Lucius never entered, in the washing room that Lucius would not dare look in the direction of for fear of losing some aspect of his masculinity. He couldn’t imagine his father dancing with anybody, especially not with his delicate dormouse of a wife. His feet were too clumsy and heavyset. Anaïs sounded upset now, but Levy couldn’t see her expression because he was sitting behind her, so he just waited like a dead anchor, watching her on the hull. Before he knew it, in one swift movement she’d pulled a slim pistol from her pocket. The gunmetal gleamed brighter than any sailor’s star in the dying sunlight. It was an older model, but the quality, as always, was exquisite. He imagined a ten year-old Anaïs receiving, of all things, an M1911 for her birthday. He wondered if she treasured it then as much as she did now. She was the kind of female devil to feign delight at an underwhelming gift, then toss it out as soon as the giver’s back had turned. Sometimes they didn’t know what their gifts were worth until it almost slipped between their fingers.
Lost in this reverie, it took him a moment to realize that the cold thing pressed against his forehead was not actually his long hair dripping with sweat, but the mouth of a pistol. An M1911.
“That’s not funny, Anaïs, I—“ he stumbled back as the pistol clicked, but there was nowhere to stumble back to. By the time he realized the gun wasn’t loaded, he was already falling off of The Nightingale. Moments later he landed in the water with a resounding splash. A flock of bubbles took flight from his nose and mouth like white cranes. When he emerged to the surface, trying to stir up as much water as possible to splash Anaïs, he gave her a pout. His finer clothes weighed heavy on his back, and despite the cold shock of the ocean, he fumbled to unbutton his shirt and toss it upon the sailboat. “That was cruel, you know.”
Name: Ven Gomez
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Physical Desc.: With a crooked nose and jutting teeth, Ven is far from attractive, but what he lacks in appearances, he compensates for in bitter, poor-natured humor. His hair reaches his shoulder and is dark, matted and greasy, and his skin tone is a tanned olive, and his eyes are a similar color. He has long, gangly limbs and no muscle to speak of, and although he may not be able to lift much with his scrawny arms, he can run like the prairie thunder.
— distinguishing features: He has burn marks on his palms from a stove when he was a child.
Face-claim: Kirk Hammett
Profession: Division 13 Specialist
Capabilities: Not exactly a super soldier, I was thinking Ven is one of the weaker members of the team, which is something he struggles to reconcile with.
Equipment: Two pistols filled with silverjackets and various salts and iron items, including two chain iron necklaces.
Hand-Hand Combat: On the poorer side; he isn't well-built for combat.
Firearm Proficiency: Extremely high, as he is rather proficient with his pistols.
Additional Skills: Ven has a stunning navigational sense and always knows which way is north. Some call it intuition. He calls it luck.
Personality:
— traits: Gullible, quiet, kind-hearted, serious, and honest.
— flaws: Annoying, stupid, individualistic, impatient a bit slow.
— strengths: Positive, determined, open-minded, cool-headed, and resourceful.
Ven is a man who tells it like it is. He has a blatant disregard for social norms or politeness and is not a stickler for formality. He openly expresses his judgements and advice when asked, but rarely speaks when spoken to, assuming an almost superior attitude toward anyone he deems incompetent. He can be emotionally broken but does his best to hide this fact through facial expressions that are more stoic than a brick. He is extremely impatient and approaches nearly everything with a businesslike attitude. As he is easily upset and aggravated, he can be stubborn and difficult to work with. He always chooses the winning side or the one where he believes he will obtain the most profit. He is quite independent and hardworking and rejects anyone who may try to aide him. He is easily confused by what others consider moral and ethical and very seriously considers what they say to simply be hogwash, preferring to create his own code of ideals instead. He may seem bitter or serious most of the time, but he does have a dry, tasteless, and sarcastic kind of humor that often just comes off as mean or just goes underneath most people's humor radar.
Serious and devoid of humor most of the time, Ven rarely laughs or jokes. He has a cold attitude and loses his patience easily over those he deems not useful or lacking in any way, making him a very picky person who has difficulties getting along with others. He is very straightforward and individualistic, never accepting what others say and remaining stubborn even after his points have been struck down. This adamant personality gives him an unapproachable air but, when approached, he quickly becomes unsettled and easily embarrassed. Fiercely independent, he protects those who are important to him with reckless abandon, going so far as to even sacrifice his life for them. He is his own man, not a product of his upbringing, economic and social standings, or religion, but of his own thoughts, decisions, and free will. He does not believe his fate can be controlled by external forces and because of this is a perfectionist who sees everything as being able to be altered and improved, often to the offense of those whom he corrects. He has a devotion to autonomous thinking and may even be viewed as cruel by others because of this.
Background: Ven was raised by a man who treated him like a machine. He was raised to do things almost robotically, with a sense of organization and order in mind. This man mysteriously disappeared in Ven's youth and he was sent away to a boarding school and trained vigorously for most of his life. At first he was an architect with a hobby for air-pistol, but on a whim he tried the police academy's regimen and things only seemed to be looking up from there.
Likes:
Sleeping
* Sailing
* Rowing
* Nighttime or the early morning hours
* Modern architecture
* Politics
* Orchestral music
* Black metal/doom metal
* Animals
* Gardening
* He has a peculiar talent for knitting
* Swimming in the ocean
* Fishing
* Debating
* Competence
* Good weather - better for boats!
* Bicycles and trains
Dislikes:
* Those who disagree with him
* Uncivilized people
* Uncleanliness
* College
* Worms, despite enjoying fishing...
* Chaotic situations
* Long distance running/swimming
* Birds
* Windy/rainy/stormy days
* Cell phones
* Automobiles
Theme Song: Fear & Fury by Pallbearer
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Not accepted
MaidenSong
:)))))))))))))))))))))
Name: Shayla Duffont
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Race: Mundane Half-Witch
Physical Desc:
Shayla's natural hair color is a sandy blonde; however, her use of witch craft has altered her hair color to be a shade of pink that varies based on her emotional state. A dark pink implies that Shayla is feeling heavy emotions such as dread, hate, or fear. On the other hand, a light pink implies she is feeling much more whimsical, light-hearted, friendly, or might be having feelings of affection. If her magic, by some chance, was disabled or nullified, then her hair would return to its natural color. Her hair falls in a wavy fashion that is prone to knotting up, so she spends much of her time combing it, or having someone else comb her hair. It has a silky, light, feeling to it and a persistent sweet smell. It does not appear that this texture and smell are the result of grooming due to its constant persistence. The sweet odor that emanates from her hair is enough for a human to smell within 6 feet of her, while creatures with finer senses, such as werewolves and vampires, can smell this distinct scent from several hundred feet away potentially.
She has fine, balanced, facial features. However, her lips are slightly unproportionate with the rest of her doll-like features. Her eyes are a deep emerald green, but sometimes seem to flicker to a yellow when she is utilizing her witch craft. Furthermore, it seems that her eyes in some ways relate to the shade of pink in her hair. When her hair becomes a dark-pink, Shayla's eyes become slit, akin to a serpentine form. Furthermore, her voice alters as-well. Typically, Shayla has a light voice, sweet, with a standard American accent (with a bit of a valley girl streak); however, when she experiences deep emotions her voice has a peculiar, underlying, quality of something unnatural at play. This underlying voice is neither deep, level, or high. It is both understood and not understood. This hints at some sort of other-worldly force at play.
Despite her in-human appetite, Shayla's body suggests a steady diet of cardio. She has tight, finely tuned, refined muscles - although, her body is in no way strong. Shayla is more-so a master of her own body, capable of lifting it and leaping with ease, but remains physically weak in comparison to others. She has soft, unblemished, skin - almost relaxing and therapeutic to the touch, with the exception of her left hand. She always keeps a glove on her left hand for some reason. Touching the leathery glove covering her small hand generates feelings akin to touching a prickly, grating, unpleasant surface.
Face-claim:
Profession:
Shayla has held many professions. Initially, she worked as an unremarkable cashier at a fast food joint when she turned eighteen. Oddly enough, this was when she began to realize her supernatural abilities, but also suffered a terrible fate. When that fate, a horrible one at that, had passed - Shayla used her magical talent in round-about ways to become a renown magician, story-teller, and performer within her respective Arcologie. One performance went awry, now known as the "floor 13 incident", which saw her having a confrontation with Division 13. Shayla was nearly killed in this confrontation, but narrowly escaped with her life upon surrendering. She was monitored for about a years time before being inducted as a Division 13 Specialist.
Capabilities:
Despite her status as a mundane, Shayla shares several traits in common with black witches, but lacks the control over her patron, sheer power output, and telekinesis (with an exception). Furthermore, half of her capabilities are her own natural magic affinity, while the other half come from an other-worldly source. Her mental state, desperation, and needs determine what set of abilities she will have. These abilities fall into two sets: Glamour & Gorge.
Glamour:
This is Shayla's default state. This set of spells is her natural affinities learned from innate skill which would have manifested regardless of her patron. These abilities are tame, but have a lot of utility. Furthermore, these abilities pull from her patron's energies, so they can be utilized without straining her body. If somehow, she was cut off from her patron, then she would draw from her own energy reserves, which are quite small (and would have to be developed). This comes with the danger of overusing her powers and then being forced into her gorge set of powers, which comes with volatile and dangerous side-effects.
Love me - Shayla has a persistent aura, which manifests physically as a sweet smell originating from her hair, which makes her more agreeable. This does not need to be activated. However, if she is trying to charm an individual into following her orders, calming down, or something else, then she must activate this power. This ability must be used within a 20ft radius. It can be used on more than one person at once, but requires more energy expenditure, which involves more risk. Furthermore, the targets must be able to smell and must be able to have feelings of adoration and affection. The spell itself creates a set of powerful, supernatural pheromones that can enamor many individuals.
Peculiar pocket - Shayla can pull items from the nape of her neck and insert them. These items reside in a pocket dimension and can be manifested out of her right hand, or pulled from the nape of her neck. There is no hard limit on the size of the object - it must be static and able to make contact with the nape of her neck, and then be completely inserted into it. However, holding large objects consumes a persistent amount of energy which might trigger her gorge power set. If she changes into her other ability set with items inside her, then these items are either forcibly ejected from her right hand, or consumed by her patron.
Fabulous flight - Despite the name, it's more akin to a teleport. Shayla can teleport up to 30ft in rapid succession which makes her very hard to hit. Additionally, she can choose to enhance each teleport with the flash of bright light (of any color), which enough to temporarily blind an individual who does not have special resistances. This light can also weaken creatures who are weak to light. Finally, this light can be sustained if she elects to sustain it. Rapid use of this power, enhancing it with flash, and sustaining the light runs the increasing chance of Shayla flipping her power set.
Gorge:
Shayla, upon entering this state, undergoes physical and mental changes. Her voice still sounds the same, but possesses an unnerving underlying quality. She looks the same, but her weight increases to nearly 1000 pounds. Her lithe, thin, muscles remain the same form but become blood-gorged and swollen, and also grant her supernatural levels of strength. She can, if triggered voluntarily, maintain some of her normal personality. However, if triggered by accident, then she cannot discern between friend and foe. Finally, in this form she becomes hungry... very... very... hungry.
Famine - All individuals within a 30 foot radius begin to feel intense hunger pains, or strong desires for something they currently lack. The longer Shayla remains in this form the more powerful this ability becomes.
Unseen Hands - Acting as a proxy to telekinesis, her patron can reach out with unseen hands, eight in total, a distance of thirty feet in any direction around her. These hands can lift with in-human strength, hurl object, and have mouths on them to consume food, people, or both.
Implacable - Shayla within this form can only walk, but becomes nearly impossible to knock over, or move. She also becomes nigh-impervious to damage from most conventional weapons. She remains vulnerable to Silverjackets and Gospels. Furthermore, fire will damage her over time, eventually killing her.
Equipment:
She has no equipment issued to her yet.
Hand-Hand Combat: She has been given some basic hand to hand combat training since becoming a District 13 Specialist.
Firearm Proficiency: Does not even know where the safety is.
Additional Skills:
Magic tricks, singing, persuading, dancing, cooking, and drawing.
Personality:
+Friendly to a fault
+Open minded
-Gullible
-Not very intelligent
Background:
Shayla grew up without parents, like many people who suffer terrible fates, and left the orphanage at eighteen. She went on to work at a fast-food joint ready to become an unremarkable member of society. Shayla did a great job at the front counter and had natural charisma, but she was a bit of a bad worker - she had the habit of picking through the fries and food to eat bits of it. One day, a demonic entity of gluttony infected the food within the joint. Shayla consumed an infected fry, along with many of the customers. The customers were consumed by an unseen force, but Shayla awoke her magical affinity in this moment and contained the creature inside her. She fled her Arcologie to another and found a new identity as a magician/singer and found an abundance of local success. Unfortunatly, she lost control of her powers during one performance and began to consume the audience with her patrons unseen hands. This was when she was forcibly captured by District 13 Specialists.
Likes:
- Food
- Showing off
- Magic
- Hearing about other people
Dislikes:
- Eating
- Being ignored
- Demons
- Pain
((I don't have a writing sample, but I hope my character sheet demonstrates my talent).
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Race: Mundane Half-Witch
Physical Desc:
Shayla's natural hair color is a sandy blonde; however, her use of witch craft has altered her hair color to be a shade of pink that varies based on her emotional state. A dark pink implies that Shayla is feeling heavy emotions such as dread, hate, or fear. On the other hand, a light pink implies she is feeling much more whimsical, light-hearted, friendly, or might be having feelings of affection. If her magic, by some chance, was disabled or nullified, then her hair would return to its natural color. Her hair falls in a wavy fashion that is prone to knotting up, so she spends much of her time combing it, or having someone else comb her hair. It has a silky, light, feeling to it and a persistent sweet smell. It does not appear that this texture and smell are the result of grooming due to its constant persistence. The sweet odor that emanates from her hair is enough for a human to smell within 6 feet of her, while creatures with finer senses, such as werewolves and vampires, can smell this distinct scent from several hundred feet away potentially.
She has fine, balanced, facial features. However, her lips are slightly unproportionate with the rest of her doll-like features. Her eyes are a deep emerald green, but sometimes seem to flicker to a yellow when she is utilizing her witch craft. Furthermore, it seems that her eyes in some ways relate to the shade of pink in her hair. When her hair becomes a dark-pink, Shayla's eyes become slit, akin to a serpentine form. Furthermore, her voice alters as-well. Typically, Shayla has a light voice, sweet, with a standard American accent (with a bit of a valley girl streak); however, when she experiences deep emotions her voice has a peculiar, underlying, quality of something unnatural at play. This underlying voice is neither deep, level, or high. It is both understood and not understood. This hints at some sort of other-worldly force at play.
Despite her in-human appetite, Shayla's body suggests a steady diet of cardio. She has tight, finely tuned, refined muscles - although, her body is in no way strong. Shayla is more-so a master of her own body, capable of lifting it and leaping with ease, but remains physically weak in comparison to others. She has soft, unblemished, skin - almost relaxing and therapeutic to the touch, with the exception of her left hand. She always keeps a glove on her left hand for some reason. Touching the leathery glove covering her small hand generates feelings akin to touching a prickly, grating, unpleasant surface.
Face-claim:
Profession:
Shayla has held many professions. Initially, she worked as an unremarkable cashier at a fast food joint when she turned eighteen. Oddly enough, this was when she began to realize her supernatural abilities, but also suffered a terrible fate. When that fate, a horrible one at that, had passed - Shayla used her magical talent in round-about ways to become a renown magician, story-teller, and performer within her respective Arcologie. One performance went awry, now known as the "floor 13 incident", which saw her having a confrontation with Division 13. Shayla was nearly killed in this confrontation, but narrowly escaped with her life upon surrendering. She was monitored for about a years time before being inducted as a Division 13 Specialist.
Capabilities:
Despite her status as a mundane, Shayla shares several traits in common with black witches, but lacks the control over her patron, sheer power output, and telekinesis (with an exception). Furthermore, half of her capabilities are her own natural magic affinity, while the other half come from an other-worldly source. Her mental state, desperation, and needs determine what set of abilities she will have. These abilities fall into two sets: Glamour & Gorge.
Glamour:
This is Shayla's default state. This set of spells is her natural affinities learned from innate skill which would have manifested regardless of her patron. These abilities are tame, but have a lot of utility. Furthermore, these abilities pull from her patron's energies, so they can be utilized without straining her body. If somehow, she was cut off from her patron, then she would draw from her own energy reserves, which are quite small (and would have to be developed). This comes with the danger of overusing her powers and then being forced into her gorge set of powers, which comes with volatile and dangerous side-effects.
Love me - Shayla has a persistent aura, which manifests physically as a sweet smell originating from her hair, which makes her more agreeable. This does not need to be activated. However, if she is trying to charm an individual into following her orders, calming down, or something else, then she must activate this power. This ability must be used within a 20ft radius. It can be used on more than one person at once, but requires more energy expenditure, which involves more risk. Furthermore, the targets must be able to smell and must be able to have feelings of adoration and affection. The spell itself creates a set of powerful, supernatural pheromones that can enamor many individuals.
Peculiar pocket - Shayla can pull items from the nape of her neck and insert them. These items reside in a pocket dimension and can be manifested out of her right hand, or pulled from the nape of her neck. There is no hard limit on the size of the object - it must be static and able to make contact with the nape of her neck, and then be completely inserted into it. However, holding large objects consumes a persistent amount of energy which might trigger her gorge power set. If she changes into her other ability set with items inside her, then these items are either forcibly ejected from her right hand, or consumed by her patron.
Fabulous flight - Despite the name, it's more akin to a teleport. Shayla can teleport up to 30ft in rapid succession which makes her very hard to hit. Additionally, she can choose to enhance each teleport with the flash of bright light (of any color), which enough to temporarily blind an individual who does not have special resistances. This light can also weaken creatures who are weak to light. Finally, this light can be sustained if she elects to sustain it. Rapid use of this power, enhancing it with flash, and sustaining the light runs the increasing chance of Shayla flipping her power set.
Gorge:
Shayla, upon entering this state, undergoes physical and mental changes. Her voice still sounds the same, but possesses an unnerving underlying quality. She looks the same, but her weight increases to nearly 1000 pounds. Her lithe, thin, muscles remain the same form but become blood-gorged and swollen, and also grant her supernatural levels of strength. She can, if triggered voluntarily, maintain some of her normal personality. However, if triggered by accident, then she cannot discern between friend and foe. Finally, in this form she becomes hungry... very... very... hungry.
Famine - All individuals within a 30 foot radius begin to feel intense hunger pains, or strong desires for something they currently lack. The longer Shayla remains in this form the more powerful this ability becomes.
Unseen Hands - Acting as a proxy to telekinesis, her patron can reach out with unseen hands, eight in total, a distance of thirty feet in any direction around her. These hands can lift with in-human strength, hurl object, and have mouths on them to consume food, people, or both.
Implacable - Shayla within this form can only walk, but becomes nearly impossible to knock over, or move. She also becomes nigh-impervious to damage from most conventional weapons. She remains vulnerable to Silverjackets and Gospels. Furthermore, fire will damage her over time, eventually killing her.
Equipment:
She has no equipment issued to her yet.
Hand-Hand Combat: She has been given some basic hand to hand combat training since becoming a District 13 Specialist.
Firearm Proficiency: Does not even know where the safety is.
Additional Skills:
Magic tricks, singing, persuading, dancing, cooking, and drawing.
Personality:
+Friendly to a fault
+Open minded
-Gullible
-Not very intelligent
Background:
Shayla grew up without parents, like many people who suffer terrible fates, and left the orphanage at eighteen. She went on to work at a fast-food joint ready to become an unremarkable member of society. Shayla did a great job at the front counter and had natural charisma, but she was a bit of a bad worker - she had the habit of picking through the fries and food to eat bits of it. One day, a demonic entity of gluttony infected the food within the joint. Shayla consumed an infected fry, along with many of the customers. The customers were consumed by an unseen force, but Shayla awoke her magical affinity in this moment and contained the creature inside her. She fled her Arcologie to another and found a new identity as a magician/singer and found an abundance of local success. Unfortunatly, she lost control of her powers during one performance and began to consume the audience with her patrons unseen hands. This was when she was forcibly captured by District 13 Specialists.
Likes:
- Food
- Showing off
- Magic
- Hearing about other people
Dislikes:
- Eating
- Being ignored
- Demons
- Pain
((I don't have a writing sample, but I hope my character sheet demonstrates my talent).
Last edited by a moderator:
Straw-Berry Milk
Princess of Berry Bliss
Hey guys! First CS up. Pictures have hidden scrolls and scroll down on the text to read the rest. It's supposed to be mobile friendly but let me know if it doesn't work!
Aliandra
;; katrina
coded by reveriee.
Last edited:
Vagabond
A Lonesome Traveler
dossier
biography
extra
Kobayashi Masaru
小林勝
code by Nano
Last edited:
Sm0ochys
New Member
Basic Details
Katya Belov
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Race: Werewolf
Physical Description:
Standing at 5 foot 3 inches, Katya has very dark ebony hair in which she usually leaves down. She has a quite rounded face with soft facial features and a pointed chin. A particularly notable feature are her eyes, an extremely light hazel in which she inherited the color from her father. Her skin is almost colorless aside from her tinted lips and light red cheeks.
Katya wouldn't call herself lean, but she is extremely healthy and fit, with narrow shoulders and arms, Katya boasts a lean torso, a narrow waist, plump hips, and legs. Katya is not built for endurance, as she tires quickly. Her strength is her greatest asset.
Katya adorns her ears with a multitude of piercings, as well as scars from a troubled and confusing childhood.
She usually wears dark, fashionable clothes that are mostly black and white and tight-fitting, and she wears multiple bronze rings on one hand.
Skills
001 Profession: Division 13 Specialist Newbie
Capabilities Strength-Being a descendent from the long line of Lycanthropy, Katya is capable of physical strength not many have the dream of achieving. Even in her human form, Katya is incredibly powerful, capable of breaking doors off its hinges with ease and having no issue throwing people across rooms if needed.
Reflexes- Katya's reaction speed makes it easier for her to avoid danger, regardless of what comes at her, whether it's dodging a bullet or fast-paced melee combat.
Work skills
Hand to Hand Combat-Doing patrol work, Katya has learned how to perform control tactics to subdue someone if need be and more defensive maneuvers if it is against a human. As well as more extensive, albeit offensive melee tactics on the other sub-human races. She'd rather beat someone down if it comes to it, although she can get carried away.
Firearm Proficiency- Katya is not the best gun-woman. Even more so when it comes to guns such as assault rifles and shotguns. She does carry around a pistol, but only uses it if she needs to, no guarantee she will be able to hit whatever she is supposed to, however.
Equipment A police duty belt which has a handgun holster, a handheld receiver as well as handcuffs, flashlights, a magazine holder which has silver bullets, and one drop point knife.
Additional skills Problem solver -Working in a job such as this, Katya is very skilled at problem-solving. Being able to analyze complex problems regarding any case, and having to make sound decisions that would help either pursuing a lead or outright solving a case.
Personality
Negative -
Aggressive - A proneness to anger and hostility, Katya is not afraid of conflict. She would rather ignore the rights of others to get her point across.
Insecure - Katya has no value in herself and lacks confidence in her capabilities. She criticizes others to uplift herself. However it usually only makes the situation between peers worse.
Positive-
Ambitious - She is driven to succeed and has a strong desire to achieve her goals.
Adaptable - Katya is very flexible, whenever the situation changes, so does she. You could almost call her a good team player.
Background -
Born in the woods of Mordovia, Russia, Katya was raised by her single mother, Anya. Her mother was a werewolf, her father unknown. Her mother, after giving birth to Katya experienced postpartum psychosis. Something which would change the course of both of their lives forever.
Although Katya does not know much of her birth mother, What had been disclosed to her was horrific. For the first six months of her life, Anya and Katya had lived off the grid due to Anyas continuing mental decline. As well as discrimination from village members who also contributed to Anya's increasing paranoia.
After the birth of Katya, Anya had difficulty transforming into a werewolf. Anya was the sole provider of her small family, And thus she hunted the local wildlife to keep herself healthy. With every transformation, her instability transpired into an almost rabid version of herself. Anya did not believe in mental health and viewed her delusions as signs from descendants of the first Silverfang.
One night she had exerted herself to the point of no return. She had become a feral beast. Leaving poor Katya alone and defenseless. The towns people had no other choice but to join arms and slay Anya. The process of tracking and killing down Anya led to there cabin where Katya resided , for some reason she was still alive. Some think that Anyas maternal instinct never left and kept Katya alive long enough for her to be recovered.
She was adopted soon after by an American human couple. Her life from there on out was considerably hard for a middle class life. Her human parents couldn't understand and cope with Katyas aggressive behaviors as she aged. Her first transformation into a werewolf destroyed their home. She couldn't suppress the rage she felt in her human form , and when she transformed she displayed anger just like her birth mother.
She hated herself , she hated her adoptive family who was just trying to understand how to help her. Her depression set in and resulted in a lifelong struggle with self harm and unhealthy coping mechanisms. She distanced herself from people who cared about her because she felt as if her identity was destroyed . She didn't know how to focus , how to control herself. No one in her life could understand. Katya felt as if something was wrong with her , if the reason her mother was killed was because of the same feeling. Maybe she was following in her footsteps.
Once Katya had graduated highschool at the age of 18, she spent a gap year and got heavily involved with drugs. She was arrested multiple times on minor charges , but a recruiter from Division 13 became interested in her. Maybe it was due to her constant ambition to get into trouble , or the many times she had picked up fellow officers who where in her way. Instead of pressing charges she was paroled and made to go to an officer academy and intern as a student trainee at a regular police department.
She only interned for about a year before being hired in the division 13 forces at the age of 20.
Likes - cucumber face masks
weighted blankets
rubber bands
sashimi
carpacio
space
Dislikes- Loud places
crowded places
disrespect
heat
intolerance
daytime
Additional :
voice
Katya Belov
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Race: Werewolf
Physical Description:
Standing at 5 foot 3 inches, Katya has very dark ebony hair in which she usually leaves down. She has a quite rounded face with soft facial features and a pointed chin. A particularly notable feature are her eyes, an extremely light hazel in which she inherited the color from her father. Her skin is almost colorless aside from her tinted lips and light red cheeks.
Katya wouldn't call herself lean, but she is extremely healthy and fit, with narrow shoulders and arms, Katya boasts a lean torso, a narrow waist, plump hips, and legs. Katya is not built for endurance, as she tires quickly. Her strength is her greatest asset.
Katya adorns her ears with a multitude of piercings, as well as scars from a troubled and confusing childhood.
She usually wears dark, fashionable clothes that are mostly black and white and tight-fitting, and she wears multiple bronze rings on one hand.
Skills
001 Profession: Division 13 Specialist Newbie
Capabilities Strength-Being a descendent from the long line of Lycanthropy, Katya is capable of physical strength not many have the dream of achieving. Even in her human form, Katya is incredibly powerful, capable of breaking doors off its hinges with ease and having no issue throwing people across rooms if needed.
Reflexes- Katya's reaction speed makes it easier for her to avoid danger, regardless of what comes at her, whether it's dodging a bullet or fast-paced melee combat.
Work skills
Hand to Hand Combat-Doing patrol work, Katya has learned how to perform control tactics to subdue someone if need be and more defensive maneuvers if it is against a human. As well as more extensive, albeit offensive melee tactics on the other sub-human races. She'd rather beat someone down if it comes to it, although she can get carried away.
Firearm Proficiency- Katya is not the best gun-woman. Even more so when it comes to guns such as assault rifles and shotguns. She does carry around a pistol, but only uses it if she needs to, no guarantee she will be able to hit whatever she is supposed to, however.
Equipment A police duty belt which has a handgun holster, a handheld receiver as well as handcuffs, flashlights, a magazine holder which has silver bullets, and one drop point knife.
Additional skills Problem solver -Working in a job such as this, Katya is very skilled at problem-solving. Being able to analyze complex problems regarding any case, and having to make sound decisions that would help either pursuing a lead or outright solving a case.
Personality
Negative -
Aggressive - A proneness to anger and hostility, Katya is not afraid of conflict. She would rather ignore the rights of others to get her point across.
Insecure - Katya has no value in herself and lacks confidence in her capabilities. She criticizes others to uplift herself. However it usually only makes the situation between peers worse.
Positive-
Ambitious - She is driven to succeed and has a strong desire to achieve her goals.
Adaptable - Katya is very flexible, whenever the situation changes, so does she. You could almost call her a good team player.
Background -
Born in the woods of Mordovia, Russia, Katya was raised by her single mother, Anya. Her mother was a werewolf, her father unknown. Her mother, after giving birth to Katya experienced postpartum psychosis. Something which would change the course of both of their lives forever.
Although Katya does not know much of her birth mother, What had been disclosed to her was horrific. For the first six months of her life, Anya and Katya had lived off the grid due to Anyas continuing mental decline. As well as discrimination from village members who also contributed to Anya's increasing paranoia.
After the birth of Katya, Anya had difficulty transforming into a werewolf. Anya was the sole provider of her small family, And thus she hunted the local wildlife to keep herself healthy. With every transformation, her instability transpired into an almost rabid version of herself. Anya did not believe in mental health and viewed her delusions as signs from descendants of the first Silverfang.
One night she had exerted herself to the point of no return. She had become a feral beast. Leaving poor Katya alone and defenseless. The towns people had no other choice but to join arms and slay Anya. The process of tracking and killing down Anya led to there cabin where Katya resided , for some reason she was still alive. Some think that Anyas maternal instinct never left and kept Katya alive long enough for her to be recovered.
She was adopted soon after by an American human couple. Her life from there on out was considerably hard for a middle class life. Her human parents couldn't understand and cope with Katyas aggressive behaviors as she aged. Her first transformation into a werewolf destroyed their home. She couldn't suppress the rage she felt in her human form , and when she transformed she displayed anger just like her birth mother.
She hated herself , she hated her adoptive family who was just trying to understand how to help her. Her depression set in and resulted in a lifelong struggle with self harm and unhealthy coping mechanisms. She distanced herself from people who cared about her because she felt as if her identity was destroyed . She didn't know how to focus , how to control herself. No one in her life could understand. Katya felt as if something was wrong with her , if the reason her mother was killed was because of the same feeling. Maybe she was following in her footsteps.
Once Katya had graduated highschool at the age of 18, she spent a gap year and got heavily involved with drugs. She was arrested multiple times on minor charges , but a recruiter from Division 13 became interested in her. Maybe it was due to her constant ambition to get into trouble , or the many times she had picked up fellow officers who where in her way. Instead of pressing charges she was paroled and made to go to an officer academy and intern as a student trainee at a regular police department.
She only interned for about a year before being hired in the division 13 forces at the age of 20.
Likes - cucumber face masks
weighted blankets
rubber bands
sashimi
carpacio
space
Dislikes- Loud places
crowded places
disrespect
heat
intolerance
daytime
Additional :
voice
The days that led up to the Black court made Seldanna extremely nervous, it was not because she was in any sort of danger, but more so the fact of seeing a bunch of bootlickers crammed into one area always made the poor, dark elf tire quickly. Peering out of a towering arch window, she could see an abundance of carriges, each and every one of them over dressed.
Seldanna always heard of the term fashionably late, but with the long lines of horse drawn vehicles trailing all the way out of view, she could not imagine how many more people would arrive.
The "fashionably late ones."
"Do you ever wonder what the point of us being here is Asherah?" The woman asked , but still looking outside. "Honestly, with the amount of Blood guards patrolling we could host a party just for them!" She exhaled rather annoyed with the thought.
Although she would not say that in front of the Cainhurst children , or even Ulfric himself. But Seldanna knew the odds of them having to protect any of them where very slim. However, an upside was Seldanna gorging herself on food and drink.
Asherah's laugh was light, and laced with a drop of amusement at the matter. Her red eyes glanced at Seldanna through a mirror as she checked her appearance for the fifth time, body turning to the side to admire herself. The black maid's dress hugged her curves a bit too tightly, enough that certain noblemen would likely pause to look a second too long. It was a game for her, almost. She relished in being able to root out the weak-willed ones--the ones that were disloyal, even to their wives. It was how she vetted people and determined who needed more of her attention.
"I try not to wonder," the dragoness replied. Her voice was sultry yet pleasant to the ears, as though she'd trained herself to speak in such an alluring manner for years. "Wonder leads to disappointment, and I've already experienced far too many disappointments in my life."
"But if I must answer your question-" Asherah moved to adjust Seldanna's collar and apron, "-we're here because Lucrezia says so." Her plump lips curved upwards at her own teasing remark and she hummed. "Now come, my dear Selly. We have guests to greet and nobles to keep separated."
Upon hearing Asherah call her Selly , Seldanna eased up a bit. Whenever Seldanna thought about her usefulness in any sort of context it made her tense.
"Oh hooray us." Seldanna said sarcastically, in a joking tone.
She looked at herself one last time , just to make her she did not have any stray hairs or even a wrinkled sleeve, Seldanna was prone to not making sure she looked well enough to be the face of Blackrock.
Her and Asherah walked some distance to the main enterance door, the hallways as always were spotless, when one servant finished sweeping another one would inspect it just to make sure. Blackrock court especially must of been extremely nerve-wracking for all lower residents , any mistakes could be their last.
"Well" Seldanna said pausing for a moment as they reached the main door. "Anyone you may be expecting today Ash?"
"Yes, actually." Asherah was humming again, a twinkle in her eye as she thought of a very specific person. He was a tall and built man, and though no one had ever really seen his face, he was probably handsome beneath that bone mask of his. "Aside from Lord Sepulcher X, no one in particular. I find most of the nobles to be... quite boring."
The woman's posture seemed to change slightly once they arrived at the entrance, a familiar face emerging through the doorway. Asherah turned to Seldanna slightly, lips still curved even though her words were hollow and cold. "I almost forgot Lord Havelock. A pedophile. Ensure he stays far away from Lady Noire."
Seldanna nodded, she should of felt appalled that such a man was even allowed to step within miles of Blackrock castle , however she knew he would get his comeuppance. There where so many nobles who attended these events with records upon records of crimes they have committed, she should not of felt so surprised.
"I suppose this is going to be the last time we can converse to each so thoroughly. Seldanna said as she looked threw her head back and groaned, she ran her fingers through her hair and exhaled before looking at Asherah.
The dark elf placed her hand on the door, as if in a feeble attempt to barricade it. At times like these she could feel her introvertism screaming for the sweet release of death.
"Well, I do wish you luck Asherah, I know I am going to need it."
Asherah's grin was wolfish, a dainty hand on the other door handle before both women opened them to allow some of the first guests to pass through. "Have fun, Seldanna. That's what I do."
Seldanna always heard of the term fashionably late, but with the long lines of horse drawn vehicles trailing all the way out of view, she could not imagine how many more people would arrive.
The "fashionably late ones."
"Do you ever wonder what the point of us being here is Asherah?" The woman asked , but still looking outside. "Honestly, with the amount of Blood guards patrolling we could host a party just for them!" She exhaled rather annoyed with the thought.
Although she would not say that in front of the Cainhurst children , or even Ulfric himself. But Seldanna knew the odds of them having to protect any of them where very slim. However, an upside was Seldanna gorging herself on food and drink.
Asherah's laugh was light, and laced with a drop of amusement at the matter. Her red eyes glanced at Seldanna through a mirror as she checked her appearance for the fifth time, body turning to the side to admire herself. The black maid's dress hugged her curves a bit too tightly, enough that certain noblemen would likely pause to look a second too long. It was a game for her, almost. She relished in being able to root out the weak-willed ones--the ones that were disloyal, even to their wives. It was how she vetted people and determined who needed more of her attention.
"I try not to wonder," the dragoness replied. Her voice was sultry yet pleasant to the ears, as though she'd trained herself to speak in such an alluring manner for years. "Wonder leads to disappointment, and I've already experienced far too many disappointments in my life."
"But if I must answer your question-" Asherah moved to adjust Seldanna's collar and apron, "-we're here because Lucrezia says so." Her plump lips curved upwards at her own teasing remark and she hummed. "Now come, my dear Selly. We have guests to greet and nobles to keep separated."
Upon hearing Asherah call her Selly , Seldanna eased up a bit. Whenever Seldanna thought about her usefulness in any sort of context it made her tense.
"Oh hooray us." Seldanna said sarcastically, in a joking tone.
She looked at herself one last time , just to make her she did not have any stray hairs or even a wrinkled sleeve, Seldanna was prone to not making sure she looked well enough to be the face of Blackrock.
Her and Asherah walked some distance to the main enterance door, the hallways as always were spotless, when one servant finished sweeping another one would inspect it just to make sure. Blackrock court especially must of been extremely nerve-wracking for all lower residents , any mistakes could be their last.
"Well" Seldanna said pausing for a moment as they reached the main door. "Anyone you may be expecting today Ash?"
"Yes, actually." Asherah was humming again, a twinkle in her eye as she thought of a very specific person. He was a tall and built man, and though no one had ever really seen his face, he was probably handsome beneath that bone mask of his. "Aside from Lord Sepulcher X, no one in particular. I find most of the nobles to be... quite boring."
The woman's posture seemed to change slightly once they arrived at the entrance, a familiar face emerging through the doorway. Asherah turned to Seldanna slightly, lips still curved even though her words were hollow and cold. "I almost forgot Lord Havelock. A pedophile. Ensure he stays far away from Lady Noire."
Seldanna nodded, she should of felt appalled that such a man was even allowed to step within miles of Blackrock castle , however she knew he would get his comeuppance. There where so many nobles who attended these events with records upon records of crimes they have committed, she should not of felt so surprised.
"I suppose this is going to be the last time we can converse to each so thoroughly. Seldanna said as she looked threw her head back and groaned, she ran her fingers through her hair and exhaled before looking at Asherah.
The dark elf placed her hand on the door, as if in a feeble attempt to barricade it. At times like these she could feel her introvertism screaming for the sweet release of death.
"Well, I do wish you luck Asherah, I know I am going to need it."
Asherah's grin was wolfish, a dainty hand on the other door handle before both women opened them to allow some of the first guests to pass through. "Have fun, Seldanna. That's what I do."
Wilder28
The Wild One
DAMIEN HARTE
"I swear, if I see one more demon out here tonight..."
"... I'm lighting that bastard up."
"... I'm lighting that bastard up."
Name: Damien C. Harte
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Sanguineus
Physical Desc.: Fairly tall, standing at around 5'10, with a lean, athletic bodybuild and an olive complexion marred with scars all over. Has long, black, curly hair and deep, soulful blue eyes, which can turn hard and steely in an instant. Outfit is usually casual, and often consists of dark colors. Rarely smiles, but when he does, it tends to be genuine.
code by @Han JiHyo
