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Lord of Woe

Lord of Woe

Inexorable
This is the basic character sheet for Ascendant: The Conspiracy. You may add additional fields to the character sheet as you wish, but all included fields are required unless otherwise stated. A love reaction will indicate that your sheet has been approved. You may include images to represent your character/aesthetic, but a short written description is still required.

Basic Information:
Name:
Date of Birth:
Birthplace:
Residence:
Nationality:
Race:
Gender:

Advanced Information:
High Concept: (1-2 sentence summary of your character concept.)
Personality:
Appearance:

Ascendant Information: (N/A for Mundane Applications)
Ascendant Factor: (Type 1-3)
ARC-1 Aversion: (Mild, Moderate, Debilitating, Fatal)
Immanence Response: (None, Mild, Moderate, Debilitating, Amplification)
Aberrant Capability/Capabilities:

Misc. Information:
Occupation(s):
Education:
Skills & Abilities:
Property & Possessions:

Fluff Information: (All fields optional in this section.)
Faceclaim: (If applicable.)
Voiceclain: (If applicable.)
Likes:
Dislikes:
Quote(s):
Theme: (Music)

Biography: (Required. No length requirement, but the longer the better.)

Sample Post: (Optional, but encouraged.)
 
Luna
College student searching for her missing best friend/roommate
  • i
    ii
    iii
    iv
    full name
    Luna Marie Hawthorne
    date of birth
    February 26th, 2004 (20 years old)
    gender
    Female | She/Her Pronouns
    sexuality
    Pansexual
    Birthplace
    Dallas, Texas (This scrolls down)
    Residence
    Covington, Louisiana
    Nationality
    American
    Race
    White
coded by natasha.
 
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AdrainAscendantdouble.png


Basic Information:
Name: Adrian Palmer
Date of Birth: December 30th, 1982 (41 years old)
Birthplace: Newport News, Virginia
Residence: Covington, Lousiana
Nationality: American
Race: Western European / White
Gender: Male

Advanced Information:
High Concept: An aging former criminal made private detective who gets wrapped up in a dangerous conspiracy while grappling with unwanted powers.
Personality: Adrian is usually reserved, rational, and austere. However, these qualities tend to lapse when his temper is goaded, causing aggression, crudeness, and stubbornness to take their place. What never errs temper or otherwise, is his strong tendency to be unwaveringly direct regardless of circumstance. All of his intentions are practical and deliberate, disregarding tact and subtlety in favor of results. As one might expect, this means he has a poor ability to read the emotional impact his actions might have on others, especially given that he's far more driven by his thoughts and what seems to make sense rather than his emotions and what feels right.
Appearance: Adrian looks his age for the most part. He's in the earliest stages of losing the color in his hair and only just beginning to acquire the 'old' look on his face. Despite his age, however, he's in excellent shape, standing quite tall, with a brick house physique. Dark hair with the slightest bit of gray, a thin beard, and thick, dark eyebrows are complemented by two bright blue eyes. Finally, a hard-to-miss scar stretches from the bridge of his nose to the inner edge of his right cheekbone.

Ascendant Information:
Ascendant Factor: Type 3
ARC-1 Aversion: Fatal
Immanence Response: Amplification
Aberrant Capability/Capabilities:
Self-Resurrection - Adrian can return to life after death, regardless of the damage done to his physical body. This process often takes hours, in which his body either recovers or regenerates entirely. Adrian still dies, so it would be inaccurate to call him immortal, but his death(s) are ultimately meaningless as he will inevitably resurrect. Anomalous black fluid often oozes from his eyes, nose, mouth, and wounds during this process.
Ascendant Factor Detection - When in the proximity of other individuals who possess the Ascendant Factor, Adrian exhibits bodily reactions such as goosebumps, chills, and in rare cases, a mild rash. These symptoms are often accompanied by a mental inclination as a sort of 'sense' for the presence of Ascendants.

Misc. Information:
Occupation(s):
Dock Worker (Former)
Full-Time Criminal (Former)
Private Investigator
Education: Menchville High School (Graduate)
Skills & Abilities:
Investigation - Adrian is excellent at finding patterns and connecting small details to larger causes.
Deduction - Using small amounts of information, Adrian can extrapolate additional details with a good range of accuracy.
Deception - The first thing Adrian ever realized he was good at, it comes naturally without much more than a sliver of effort.
Intuition - Adrian is very observant and quick to understand some things without the need for conscious reasoning.
Firearms - Having used firearms for years, Adrian is familiar with them on a proficient level.
Hand-to-Hand Combat - Aside from some boxing when he was a teenager, Adrian has no formal training in martial arts. Most of his hand-to-hand knowledge has been acquired through 'hands-on' experience.
General Repair Skills - Though he's far from a handyman, Adrian has a sufficient understanding of how common objects work, and can usually fix them with a little trial and error.

Property & Possessions:
72534 Pansy St. Covington, LA (Home) - A small three-bedroom home on the far east side of Covington near Abita Springs. Serendipitously inherited from an extended family member.
Black 1996 Honda Accord Sedan (Vehicle) - An ailing clunker and formerly Adrian's place of residence. The only possession he brought from Virginia, having owned it since 1999.
Walther Arms PDP 9mm (Weapon) - A staple of Adrian's everyday carry along with his phone and wallet, the first big purchase he made after becoming a full-time resident of Louisiana.
Various other possessions (Wallet, Phone, etc.)

Fluff Information:
Faceclaim: Bruce Wayne (Future State: Dark Detective)
Voiceclain: Nah. Just imagine he sounds like a chad or something.
MBTI: INTP - The Logician
Enneagram: 5w6 - The Investigator
Temperament: Melancholic-Choleric - The Trainer
Quote(s): β€œI guess I suffer from an impoverishment of the sociopathic spirit necessary to go big time.”
Theme: Through Night-Kingdomed Gates

Biography: (Quick and relatively low effort so I can get an example up.)
Born in Newport News, Virginia, Adrian Palmer grew up in a brutally dysfunctional household. Both of his parents were alcoholics, his mother was an adulterer, and his father (who may or may not have been his actual biological progenitor) was physically and mentally abusive. As a result of his parent's substance-born ineptitude, Adrian quickly learned to fend for himself. A drive to get by coupled with poor parental examples quickly led young Adrian to a lifestyle on the wrong side of the law. He'd manage to avoid getting caught until his 20s, where he'd subsequently be in and out of jail for several years for various offenses.

In his late 20s, he'd meet a woman named Elizabeth who was similarly involved in criminal dealings and eventually marry her. Despite their lifestyle and respective upbringings, the relationship was stable and healthy. Together with Elizabeth, Adrian got involved with crime in a more organized fashion, resulting in Jailtime becoming a thing of the past, and poverty only a memory. Eventually, their decisions would come back to haunt them when they were deemed 'loose ends' in a particularly lucrative scheme. Adrian suspected something but couldn't convince Elizabeth before she was murdered. Adrian would have been next, had he not seen it coming. Refusing to lie down and accept it, he fought back, taking several lives before they could take his.

Ultimately, however, he was forced to flee. One man can only do so much, after all. For years, he'd live out of his car, drifting along the east coast and surviving on odd jobs. By a pure fortuity, he'd discover himself to be the only valid inheritor of an estate left behind by a deceased member of his extended family. Serendipity finally broke the monotony of misfortune. Thus, he'd make the long drive to Louisiana where he'd receive the inheritance in question, a small house on the eastern end of Covington. By the grace of god, or pure luck, he'd been given a second chance. Determined not to waste it, he'd begin the long overdue process of turning over a new leaf. Knowing that he could never work for the police, he pursued and eventually landed a position as a private investigator, chosen so that he could help those victimized by the kind people he used to be one of.

A year and a half into his residence in Covington Louisiana, the incident occurred. Strange lights in the sky accompanied a horrible unexplained sickness that nearly took his life. He was resuscitated twice over the course of his sickness, spending nearly ten minutes clinically dead across two instances. Recovery came eventually, but the process was significantly longer than even the most severe cases. The after-effects of the sickness persist even to the present day, with headaches, dizzy spells, and vomiting creeping up on Adrian at often inopportune times. Despite this, Adrian was determined to continue his work even with the entirety of Saint Tammany Parish being designated an exclusion zone.

As it would turn out, there would be no shortage of cases after the incident. Several missing persons with no record of being detained were brought to the firm after police were too predisposed to perform any effective investigation. Unbeknownst to Adrian, taking these cases would see him plummeting into a deep rabbit hole of corruption and secrecy that implicated authorities and enigmatic employers in several disappearances. Digging to deep would eventually result in his unceremonious assassination by someone working to keep the truth quiet. Little did anyone including Adrian himself know, he was Ascendant, and death had become little more than an inconvenience.

Sample Post:
978366167964090388.webp
No.
 
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High Concept:
Personality:
Appearance:









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scendant Information:





Ascendant Factor: Type 3
ARC-1 Aversion: Debilitating
Immanence Response: Amplification
Aberrant Capability/Capabilities: Mimicry









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β™‘coded by uxieβ™‘
 
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  • Name: Bellamy "Buddy" McBride
    Date of Birth: September 19th, 1990 (33 years old)
    Birthplace: Covington, Louisiana
    Residence: Covington, Louisiana
    Nationality: American
    Race: White (French/Irish)
    Gender: Cis Male
 
Basic Information:
Name: Lira Dram
Date of Birth: -> Age-> 16
Birthplace: Covington, Lousiana
Residence: Covington, Lousiana
Nationality: American
Race: White
Gender: Female

Advanced Information:
High Concept: Lived in a group home / state care from the time she was 8. Keep falling into petty theft and crime because, yanno, teen angst and all
Personality: Stubborn, contrarian, untrusting, resourceful.
Appearance: Tan, dark hair, dark eyes, freckles, boxy frame.

Ascendant Information: (N/A for Mundane Applications)
Ascendant Factor: Type 1
ARC-1 Aversion: Mild
Immanence Response: Gets dizzy/ disorientated
Aberrant Capability/Capabilities: Phases through things

Misc. Information:
Occupation(s): Kid/ Thief
Education: Ongoing...ish
Skills & Abilities: Pick pocketing, lock picking, scouting, running, and playing songs on a rubber band
Property & Possessions: Yours?

Fluff Information: (All fields optional in this section.)
Faceclaim: (If applicable.)
Voiceclain: (If applicable.)
Likes: Social engagement, music, cards
Dislikes: being told what to do, police, beer
Quote(s): Aw, fuck, warn me next time, will ya?
Theme: (Music)

Biography: Raised by a single mom till that mom died in a dui. Lira was in the car but never talked about it much. She bounced around foster homes and state care, her freedom lessening as a series of bad choices gets her closer and closer to a life resisting the law.

Sample Post: And they all died, the end.
 
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Art By Johnny Desjardins

Basic Information:
Name: Nicholas "Nick" Czechowski
Date of Birth: September 20th, 1980 (43 years old)
Birthplace: Scranton, Pennsylvania
Residence: Covington, Louisiana
Nationality American
Race: Eastern European/Polish
Gender: Male

Advanced Information:
High Concept: A soldier who came back from the desert to his country a changed man.
Personality: Stern, strong, proud. These words can best describe the psyche of Nick Czechowski. A man who isn't afraid to jump into a bar fight then buy everyone a round at the table. A mind as strong as his bearlike body with a veneer of ice to stave off distractions, physical or otherwise. But ruthless and efficient as the desert he left behind. However, as prideful as the musclebound soldier likes to think of himself as, he is not infallible. He has made mistakes which seemed right at the time, he has suffered scars on the skin of his physique and wit. He has seen friends die and is at times, dismissive or pessimistic. He knows how his actions affect others and is often willingly aloof of the consequences. But he is not wholly good or righteous, crime isn't beyond his purview.

Appearance: A body built tougher than steel with a face for radio. The inherent ugliness, wrought by years of underground fighting, ages the brawny fighter beyond his years. Once he had a full head of hair only for it to wilt and fall due to the physical and recuperating stress imposed. His eyes are sets of emeralds sunken into his skull, his brow appears monstrous. In fact, his entire physiognomy betokens an inborn cruelty and coldness which frightens even hardened soldiers. His muscles possesses some form, but they are mainly built for power. He is also of significant stature.

Ascendant Information:
Ascendant Factor: Type 1
ARC-1 Aversion: Mild: Tension headache;
Immanence Response: None;
Aberrant Capability/Capabilities:
Self-Density Shifting - Able to increase his bodily density to above superhuman levels, subsequently making him heavier while multiplying his strength and durability beyond human achievement. Knives break upon contact with his muscles and he can snap metal guns with one hand. The downside is that the bulking process is not instantaneous.

Misc. Information:
Occupation(s): U.S. Army Soldier (Formerly), Street Fighter (Formerly), Handyman (Currently);
Education: High School Graduate, College Graduate (Philosophy).
Skills & Abilities:
Marksman-Level Firearms Training - His basic training and experience in the middle east has honed his aim considerably;
Tutored Hand-to-hand Combat - Similarly with his weapons handling, Nick was trained by the army in close-quarters martial combat;
Actually a Handyman - Mentoring under the family friend, Nick possesses a diverse set of skills able to repair many appliances or carpentry.
Property & Possessions:
Nick's "You break it, I fix it." House/Shop - a single bedroom house which doubles as a store for his services as a handyman.
Used 2007 Chevlorent Silverado (Vehicle);
Street Fight Mask;
Dogtags;
M1911A1 - An American classic;

Fluff Information: (All fields optional in this section.)
Voiceclaim: His voice is like brass, often times low with sombre.
Quote(s): "Control over one's self, strength and endurance and mind, is the ultimate power."
Theme: N/A;

Biography:

Born to Polish Immigrants, Nick Czechowski had certain difficulties growing up with the rest of America's youth. He was rambunctious, headstrong, and frighteningly massive for a boy who hasn't even reached his tenth birthday. He was a brawler even at that age, who caused his mother great grief on multiple occasions. Despite their comparatively recent arrival, they didn't suffer under the yoke of poverty. Yes, the Czechowskis were well-off. Upper middle class even, and without having to resort to shady dealings as well. Well, as shady as trading companies get anyway. Nicholas had simply been born with brimstone in his veins. A fire which flares like a rocket. Unfortunately, not much else since his schoolwork was shoddy and uncouth.

At the age of 20, Nick Czechowski enlisted in the United States Army, both spurred by patriotic vigor and urgings of his father, whose motivations were to simply cool the young man down. Nicholas took to the military life like a glove. He reveled in the army's BT, enjoyed his camaraderie with the other recruits, and truly felt belonging for the first time in his life. This bout of revelry soon came to end when boots first touched the treacherous land of the Middle East. The fighting had been sporadic, but each exchange of fire ground down Nick's pneuma like waves against the rocks. Ripping apart will, crippling friends both in body and spirit, or worse, killing them altogether. The rage took him over at first, he took two of their lives for one departed friend's life. But in the quiet moments, he only had himself. To blame. To excuse. To accept. Distancing helped, but it wasn't the cure.

After five subsequent tours of duty, Nicholas had finally decided it's time to return home. Returning to a world that is as foreign as the Middle Eastern Deserts. The alienation, the brow-beatings, the snobbery were all unwelcome surprises. It drove him deep. Deep enough to find a string of underground rings for all-comers. He rediscovered his love for fighting and drowned himself in the bare-knuckle beatdowns. Quickly gaining notoriety amidst the betting circles. A tailored mask became his image, flexing his showmanship muscles, Nick had become quite the braggart. A tactic he used to attract easily agitated knuckleheads who wanted to shut up the "Champ."

Due to the less-than-legal nature of these fights, they were hush-hush until a police sting operation brought down the club's roof over their head. Nicholas had been present that day, but managed to slip away in the opening chaos. Luck wouldn't be too gracious to Nick as he had been caught a mile or two later after he had disposed of his mask. Held in jail only for suspicious connections, he had been released when his father lawyered up for his sake. This had been the straw which broke the camel's back, as Nick was evicted from his family's home.

He attended a community college where he got his bachelor's degree in philosophy. This done primarily out of interest, not as a way to make money or similar. He knew a Louisianan tradesman from his mother's side of the family. A good enough career for a man who wants to get his hands dirty.

Two years later, the terrible incident of strange lights in the sky occurred. The sickness which followed took the life of his mentor and friend, it nearly claimed him as well. Iron will saw him through the troubles, but it was misery on a scale unmatched. After recovery, he reopened his services again and works as a handyman.


Sample Post:

As day turns to dusk, a lone parlour's lights flick on. It's pitiable in size, but the simple shop is maintained well, a germaphobe can't complain. The door swings gently open. A broad, gruff-looking man steps out with a broom. He shuffled the last motes of dust and debris, occasionally looking out at the vacant street as if suspicious of something. Or someone. But the day has not been unusual. Indeed, it was exceedingly mundane. The jobs were short, dull, and paid pennies instead of what he usually gets. Still, the sweeping man would not complain about it. The insides were illuminated by inexpensive lightbulbs, materials and tools were neatly organised on racks and stands. One workbench had a little wooden figurine on it, a horse with a rider on it, a side project for a neighbour's kid. The child's father and the large man were drinking buddies, both from the military so it was easy to find common ground. The man wantedβ€”needed to do something nice for a change, instead of simply working all the time. He picked up a knife ready to whittle the finishing touches in place when someone's knuckles rapped on his door.

"At this hour?" He said confusedly in a quiet voice. Opening the door, the man's eyes trailed down farther than he expected. "Penny!?" Exclaimed, a rough tone edged by surprise. Immediately, he takes a knee to her level. His stern, sombre eyes meeting the tear-red eyes of a scared child. But her tears weren't from fear, he could tell. "Mist-e-erh 'Cowski," the little girl sniffled. "Daddy needs your help." Nicholas Czechowski stretched a hand over her shoulder. A large, calloused hand touched with careful lightness. "Sure, sweetie, sure, is anybody home first?" "Mom and dad..." "Take you there and you can explain on the way." "O-okay."

After five minutes of the walk'n'talk, Nick received a fragmented recollection of the event. It isn't notably clear, marred with a child's brand of hyperbole. At first, he wanted to dismiss it as a child getting lost and not wanting to fess up to the truth, but the more he analysed it, the more real it seemed to be. He only needed one piece of evidence to confirm it. He knocked on his neighbor's door with one hand and Penelope in the other. The spacious house lights up, or at least the lower half, does as a masculine figure walks pass the window. The door swings wide to reveal a groggy, disheveled man with a full-patch of brown hair. And a black eye. "Penny!" Cries the father as he takes his daughter into his arms. A brief exchange of sobs and words was had, Tobias did not yet address the giant on his doorstep. Nick let the moment play out before answering in a subdued voice. "Say, Tobias... Is everything alright." He says slowly, purposefully. Tobias' eyes go wide with a knot in his throat. "Oh-uh, yes.... No." The man knew that Penny didn't get lost as he initially assumed, no, his daughter is too smart for that. Much too observant as well. And he couldn't lie to Nick, he owed him that much. "Alright, come inside, let me put Penny to bed."

Soon both men were armed with a beer in hand, but Tobias squirmed in his seat. Sweat across his brow. The swollen eye twitched with pain every now and then. "So," Asks Nick. "What happened." The brown-haired man looks ashamedly down the bottle. "After Vicky died, the debts began pilling up. Between that and Penny's needs, well, I can't rake in the dough like she could've... So I took out some money from a few people I know. Less than honest guys, but they were good for it." Nick looked stolidly as Tobias continued explaining, though he could guess the ending to this story already. Reminiscing an hour later, Nick got the entire picture. Even the names of the perpetrators. "Quite an idiotic thing to do, desperation begets more desperation, Tobias." He scolded the man. "Yea, yea, rub it in, add some lemon too while you're at it." Reluctantly the single father had to agree, even if he didn't like the truth. "Call the police in the morning," Nick says, getting up from the table with a hand in his pocket. "But I-" Just as Tobias was about to protest in his palm was placed a small wooden horse with the rider. Unfinished, but the gesture remained. "Call them." were Nicholas' last words as he disappeared into the cold night.

Returning to his house/shop, Nicholas dug out a box from the closet. A single item was retrieved. A mask of black fabric with lenses of yellow gold. He slipped it on with a set of latex gloves and a shearling jacket. He knew where they were, he knew they would be there, now is the time to act.

He stood in front of the building. Run-down, but otherwise innocuous amidst all the others; if you look through the window however, you'd spot the glimmer from the door crack. His breathing slows, neck cracks to one side then the other. Tension spreads through the thick layers of muscles beneath his skin. Strength infuses the skeletal musculature in the span of fifteen seconds. His footfalls become thunder. One heel is digs into the ground for support, the other leg shoots out like a shotgun blast. The wooden door explodes off the hinges alerting the men inside. They pour out of their hold, flabbergasted at the masked titan who stood before them. "Tonight, the terror you brought, brings your plight." The masked man taunts. The voice is orotund like a foghorn, but dead as a graveyard. The shock in their eyes fades to anger, rage as they charge forward. They say something, but Nicholas chooses not to hear them. With a windmill motion, he delivers a crushing haymaker to the closest man's chest. The tall, slender man falls flat on his back with a thud. So instant was this that the cronies paused again to look at their fallen man. Fear replaces wrath as they now tried to flee. Back through the inner room, but Nick leisurely clotheslines two of them. One perp hits his head and is knock out immediately. The other one is still awake. "W-wait, wait!" He screams with bloodcurdling fright. "I-I have a fami-" He tries to make an excuse, but is cut off by the cold voice of the masked titan. "Many men have made that excuse. You don't listen, I didn't as well." He concludes as one boot stomps on the man's knee. A second scream follows as the knee-cap is powdered into dust. Then a second stomp on his left knee. Another scream. Coldly, Nicholas looks to the, now crying, man's hand. Fingers with a full set of rings. He smirks under his mask as he delivers another booted strike. A blood-red smear across the floor, the metallic rings snap then break under his forefoot. Now hollering and yelping like a wounded animal, Nicholas moves into the inner room. Only to be greeted with a double-barreled surprise! He rolls to the side, but his bicep is grazed by the buckshot. The pain is meaningless, however as he ducks another shot. "Shit, shit, shit," He hears as a scared man frantically tries to reload. The shells tremble in his finger, moreso than the shotgun. Just as he looks up from the break-action, the giant man was already on him like a jumping polar bear. The man's jaw flies away with a hook.

His work done, Nicholas fades off into the dark.
 
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Basic Information:

Name: Lorena Fontana

Date of Birth: May 2nd, 1995 (28 years)

Birthplace: Rio De Janeiro, Brazil

Residence: Covington, Louisiana

Nationality: Brazilian

Race: South American

Gender: Cis Female

Advanced Information:

High Concept:
A human trafficking victim is transported to America, ends up in the wrong place at the wrong time and becomes afflicted. Homelessness, hunger, thirst, PTSD and the pains of her abilities plague her waking life.

Personality:
Determination, self-reliance and perseverance can all be used to describe Lorena on the surface. Often patient and persistent, there is a reason she has gotten so far in life. Without these traits, she may very well be dead and gone. A motherly aura surrounds her, not in the traditional sense but a tough love she seldom gives out. Below the hard, seemingly impenetrable exterior of her earthen taurus skin, many emotions swirl about, threatening to trigger at a moments notice. While strong, she can also be very fragile.

Appearance:
South American features are apparent throughout caramel skin, dark hair and brows. Her eyes stand out among most of her people, a jungle of pale green and brown mix within irises. Her shapely yet strong figure accentuates the best parts, a full chest, cut stomach and toned backside. Scars in electric patterns are scattered across her body, random, some darker than others and often covered. There is an attempt to upkeep her natural beauty, lip gloss liberally applied to plush lips but doesn't make up for the frizzy, wavy hair she sports. While materialistic in some sense, she cannot afford luxury by any means, turning to lost & founds and clothing drives to pick out what she can. For now her wardrobe consists of plain crewneck t-shirts, cargo pants and a single leather coat.

Ascendant Information:
Ascendant Factor:
Type 2

ARC-1 Aversion:
Debilitating

Immanence Response:
Moderate

Aberrant Capability/Capabilities:
BatarΓ­akinesis
Battery Manipulation
Battery Disruption
Repair/Charge Batteries
Battery Siphoning/Empowerment
Electricity Generation

Misc. Information:
Occupation(s):
Worked with her family in the local farmers market
Unwillingly worked as a prostitute
Now a professional homeless person

Education:
GED

Skills & Abilities:
Cooking : Lorena not only fended for herself, but for her impoverish family and close friends in Brazil.
Stealing : After reaching America and breaking free from the ties of her captors, she stole from many good & bad people in order to survive on the streets. Many batteries have gone missing.
Gathering : If there were no options for stealing, gathering her own food in forests or trashcans worked for her.
Persuasion : Her beauty and ability to put on puppy eyes often lets her off the hook, sometimes.
Basic Combat : After the disease took hold of Louisiana and she mostly recovered, a need to protect herself going forward was prevalent. She trained punching, kicking on trees.

Property & Possessions:
Cell Phone
Backpack / Including: Lip gloss, water flask, charging cables, batteries, wire, stuffed dragon, earrings, spare clothing, batteries but bigger, first aid basics.
Batteries.
An abandoned home on the south end, not technically her possession, but she likes to think she can claim it.

Fluff Information:

Faceclaim: Gabby B

Voiceclaim: Anitta ()

Quote(s): β€œCΓ£o que ladra nΓ£o morde.” / "Dog that barks does not bite."

Biography:

Born on May 2nd, 1995 in Rio De Janeiro, Brazil, Lorena Fontana grew up in a lower class family with not much going for them. Her home life seemed to be filled with drugs, conflict and gang violence. Several of her family members associated with the Red Command, coming and going from the favela (home in the slums) with arms, cocaine and sometimes people. All the while she followed in her grandmothers footsteps, taking care of her little siblings (her being the oldest) and bringing in money with the help of their farmers market stand.

As she grew, the life began to lose the spark it once had, gang violence got worse in the area and the death toll rose. Most of all, the sudden passing of her grandmother had the largest impact. It was downhill from there, participating in the drugs she saw frequently as a child, hoping to fill the void with men on a rotating door. Nothing helped, her grandmother was still gone.

At 28, she received a wakeup call, being stripped of her belongings and taken by an opposing gang. For a reason unknown to her, she was trafficked to America to be sold off and moved across the country to an unknown location. At the time of the phenomena, her captors placed their big white van in the wrong place at the wrong time, exposing them all to the disease as they slept. Lorena, however, was left with less than desirable symptoms. Burning sensations, feeling as if her skin was being peeled right from the muscle and fat, but it wasn't. Electricity shot through her body, twitching, seizing her and leaving it's own lightning shaped scars behind. She discovered Battery Kinesis to be her special ability, charging captors phone she stole in her palm. From there, her curiosity with batteries and other technologies honed her skills.

Now, she lives alone, actually preferring it that way, in an abandoned home on the south side of Covington. She is used to this life, having to fend for herself, so it wasn't hard for her. Although, she is not sure what the future may hold for her. Would she remain in this run down home forever? Or could she escape the confines of this place that held many bad experiences?
 
Nina2.jpg

  • Name: Nina Haas
    Date of Birth: October 13th, 2000
    Birthplace: Covington, Louisiana
    Residence: Covington, Louisiana (suburbs)
    Nationality: American, with some German ancestors
    Race: White
    Gender: Female
 
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