Fantasy Where Dreams go to Die (Characters)

welian · Dec 28, 2015

Due to the massive size of the interest check thread, Where Dreams Go To Die will not be accepting any additional roleplayers other than the ones that have already expressed interest.

welian · Dec 29, 2015

Character Reserves

Reserved Characters (3)

Wilson Callow || Male || 17 || Willow || Anomaly

Wilson engages in most things teenagers are wont to do, especially hanging out with his friend group, but lacks depth, struggling to feel strongly about anything. In his dreams he flows around, seeking emotion and having somewhat more success at finding it - but never in the direction he wants...

Faline Diggory || Female || 19 || Desert Rose || DemonKitten

A woman with desire to escape and a love of cats, she is judged only by her appearance as many view her like that of a porcelain doll. It is only natural that she acts as a model flaunting the only skill anyone is willing to credit her.

Vincent Araceli || Male || 23 || Onyx || Semblance

After his mother’s dying wish was for him to succeed her company, Vincent is trapped in the monotonous career path of business. A bold and adventurous soul, he yearns for a much more exciting life, as his impulsive and curious nature was certainly not built for such a dull lifestyle.

Accepted Characters (16)

Accepted characters are sorted by faction, not that there's really much in the way of factions here... New Knights will be considered undecided, and the more senior Knights will be divided based on whether they consider themselves more loyal to the Sentinel, or the King of Nightmares.

Olive Martin || Female || 22 || Citrine || Elle Joyner

A bright light in a dim space, Olive Martin is never the type to bring a frown to a Smile Party. She's a vivacious, spirited young woman, and a joy to be around. She's also a heck of a bartender and can fix just about any drink in the book.

Jocelyn Vontair || Female || 25 || Amethyst || DaughterofAthena

Jocelyn is a single woman with an intense love for children and a yearning to be a mother. She works as an obstetrics nurse and she foster mothers a three-year-old girl named Lacey. Work leaves her exhausted and the rest of her life and love goes to Lacey.

Thomas Ray || Male || 26 || Silver || Writer

Thomas does freelance website design contracting. Not the most socially adapt, he is a relatively isolated individual, slow to open himself up to new people. Although he does not project it, he is man lacking confidence, doubting who he is and what his purpose is in life.

Danielle (Dani) Swanson || Female || 20 || Obsidian || Kharmin

Danielle is a singularly focused killing machine. Once a jovial young adult, until the slumbering death of her brother, Dani is now filled her with an unquenchable vengeance. Quiet and reserved, she holds tightly to her inner fury, patiently waiting for the moment to become the personification of sheer rage.

Layla Ward || Female || 14 || Carnelian|| welian

A young teen girl still coping with a crippling loss of her parents, Layla is grieving and constantly feels lost and hopeless. But one might never notice that, what with her arrogant, loud-mouthed, exuberant, and competitive nature. She tends to idolize parental figures, and will do anything for their attention.

Mauro Caprioli || Male || 23 || Juniper|| Carl

For the longest time, Mauro didn't know whether or not the things he saw and heard when he closed his eyes, even when not asleep, were lingering imaginary shapes and sounds of the What If's doling around his mind...Or if he had lost his mind and sense of reality in every sense of the word. Now that the events have unfolded themselves and he has been visited by a Sentinel, pieces began to fall into place.
Dio/Michael Creed || Genderqueer || 20 || Pyrite || Liberty Penn

Dio is a child lost in the dream. Most of what originally was Michael Creed has faded over the past 5 years spent in a coma, trapped in Etherea. Coping the best he could, he filled his time with games, fun, and his illusions. Happy-go-lucky and childish, he just wants a place to belong.

Chloé Adrianna Pavlyuchenko || 19 || Female || Serendibite || Sunbather

The adopted daughter of a Russian business tycoon and an Italian doctor, Chloé is a clever and creative albeit unfathomably lazy girl, often struggling with her lack of ambition inside a world filled with pressure, expectations and aspiration - Often hiding herself in obscure taste, gloomy thoughts and apathy.

Marianne Ross || Female || 18 || Ruby || ViAdvena

Casual yet elegant person, both dignified and playful. Come from a family with politically active background. Her words are often ambiguous and said with joking tone, masking her current intention. Ambitious despite her seemingly relaxed demeanor, she is fond of getting people to do her jobs without them realizing it.

Lee MacCallion || Male || 26 || Cherry Tree || SkyGinge

Tall, dark and handsome, Scottish expat Lee is an outgoing, easygoing, stylish individual whose sharp wit and gentlemanly manners make him an ideal individual. Or so he thinks. Lee unfortunately suffers from 'protagonist syndrome', and whilst he means well, his complete lack of tact lends him to many misunderstandings.

Joan Betallèon || Female || 25 || Holly || Phaesaris

A former cop that was fired after an incident that resulted in her partner's death, Joan is woman who has turned to underground boxing to pay the bills. Faults from the past have hardened her heart, turning her into a cold and pragmatic woman willing to do anything to get to the top.

Amelia Langdon || Female || 27 || Zircon || simj22

A street magician with a certain air of a stage performer, given her dressing. Amelia is a master of the sleight of hand and a pickpocket of immense skill, though noted by professionals to be a bit of a copycat. Described by many as laidback, jovial, and a bit flirtatious.
"Ash Weiss" || Male || 38 Years || Iron || Zahzi

You know, a lot of people give him flack for being as angry and rude to anyone that crosses his path. But, when you've been forced through the ringer, and was then put in a coma just short of your happy ending, only to be stuck there for the past three years? Yeah, you'd be pissy with the world too.

Xavier McAllister II, a.k.a. Anderson || Male || 24 || Black Jadeite || DJ MagicHat

The victim of a horrible incident as a child and broken mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, Xavier has forged himself into a living weapon with every breath for over a decade. He avoids the rest of the world, and seeks his own inner peace by hunting down and destroying his nightmares.

Victor Anders Blackwell || Male || 34 || Malachite || Mr. Grin

“V.A.” Blackwell is a somewhat well-known and accomplished writer of horror and mystery fiction. His public persona is that of a well put-together scholarly gentleman in his mid-thirties. One assumes he enjoys the finer things and rarely finds himself in a position of much worry.

Kezia Silverston || Female || 19 || Mercury || Giyari

Hot-headed, rash, manic. Kezia comes across as many things when she's running around jumping in and out of the dangerous and uncertain situations of Etheria with a huge grin plastered to her face. Looking for a rush of excitement in her life, Kezia is glad to have found it in the dream realms.

Sunbather · Dec 30, 2015

Chloé Adrianna Pavlyuchenko

BASICS

Age: 19

Gender: Female
Occupation: Student

Dream Title: The Desidiab Knight

APPEARANCE

Height: 159cm

Weight/Build: 45kg / Adrianna is an extremely lean, almost haggard looking young woman with noticably large, green eyes. She usually looks extremely tired and/or annoyed, often having her eyes - which are almost always underlined by dark bags - a litte closed or squinted. She has a petite build, with her hip bones as well as her ribcage poking through the skin - even when she isn't stretching. As such, she sports a pretty frail, weak-looking physique. Her natural build is - despite the lack of essentially any and all unnecessary fat and an accordingly small chest and thin limbs - oddly mature and, thanks to her somewhat wide hips, distinctively feminine rather than overly youthful.

Notable features: None

Hair color: While her parents call sunflower blonde and a stunning ebony black their own, Adrianna's hair is of a Venetian red.

Eye color: Green

Complexion: Chloé's skin is remarkably flawless, not sporting a single mark, scar, blotch or other imperfection. While her skin's not unhealthy nor unpleasant, she appears devoid of any natural oils, instead seeming oddly 'dry'. She has an average skin tone, being neither noteworthily pale nor tanned.
AMBITION

Adrianna - Or Anna, which she prefers - does not have the typical life goal, instead hoping for everyone to just let her do her own thing. She can't handle expectations very well, and as such dreams of eventually finding the energy needed to make something of herself.

PERSONALITY

Adrianna's behavior and interests, in a way, simultanously make her cliché and antithesis to the rich girl stereotype, if such a thing is even possible. Despite being raised by some of the most ambitious parents one could possibly ask for as well as being provided with the best education available, she's unaspiring in almost all regards of life. Through her privileged and pompous upbringing, Adrianna has been confronted with a certain coldness from an early age on, her parents being a prime example. Because of this, the Pavlyuchenko's only child has a certain sense of etiquette and sophistication, though more often than not it's overshadowed by her laziness. In fact, her indolence is so severe that she often has difficulties to concentrate on most tasks and, as a result of that, bails on classes and other responsibilties quite regularly.

A secondary product of her schooling is an almost analytical apathy, deeply imbued in her behavior, which tends to amplify her slothful impression even further.

There are exceptions to her almost impulsive slacking though, however sparse they may be. Adrianna is deeply appreciative of her role as a dreamknight, for a plethora of reasons. Whereas she often feels entirely deprived of spirit and ambition, she feels vigorous whenever she steps "behind the veil", sometimes even so much that she freaks herself out. Her other two passions, ones that actually drive and energize her, however temporary those feelings may be, are her design work as well as her online blog, where she shares finished projects and the occassional vlog with the world.

Being able to induldge in quite literally whatever her heart sought after with access to virtually endless supplies of money, Adrianna's quite the popular girl in most circles she frequents. Or rather, that is what people make her believe at least. There are, without a doubt, plenty of people who are quick to badmouth her behind her back. A fact she's vaguely aware of, but something her upbringing carries with it almost naturally. As such, she has learned to deal with it diplomatically. Though it's regretable that a person has to participate in these bouts of factitious friendliness from such an early age on, it may be for the best, as Adrianna is often flat out oblivious to social norms that aren't her own. A trait that - coupled with her being desensitized to displays of insincerity - often prompts people to perceive her as impervious and patronizing, which in turn can lead to conflicts she's usually too lethargic to want any part of.

Adrianna tends to be a weirdly literal person, often considering her interlocutor's statements and give them genuine thought instead of registrating their intent as malicious or antagonizing - A habit many further interpret as her kind of sarcasm, though it really isn't. This near-inability to recognize hostility contrasts starkly contrast with her otherwise sharp interpersonal aptitude.

In any case, Adrianna cannot be pigeonholed easily, as she brings about some unique quirks and interests. Against all odds of her fine upbringing, for example, Chloé's an avid fan of music such as sludge metal or freak pop and can't muster up much excitement from classical music at all. Another much less common interest would be her obsession with graveyards. Friends and foes alike, not to mention her parents, find her fondness of them to be creepy, but the calm, respectful atmosphere of the deceased's resting places appeals to her greatly.

Maybe it is for these idiosyncrasies that people tend to be interested in the girl one way or another, though she herself has very little interest in essentially everything that lays further away than her arm's reach. Adrianna is a somewhat avid social media user and shares many photos and videos with the world. In fact, she has accumulated more than 400.000 subscribers and followers across various platforms such as Youtube, Instagram and Twitter with whom she shares pictures and vlogs revolving around fashion.

HISTORY

The girl's first memory is looking up at a mobile, spinning, hung over her little bed. What she was - and continous to be - unaware of, is that it was the third day after her adoption. She had been brought into an incredible home by a wealthy couple, unable to have children of their own. Given how much Adrianna, back then at least, fit into the Pavlyuchenko's genetic profile, she not only quickly won over the couple's heart through her dinkiness, she was also an awfully promising candidate to raise as their own without much trouble.

Adrianna always stood out a little, even in elementary school. She was quiet, abided by the rules and never wanted to see what would happen if she pulled someone's hair, used magnifying glass on ants or engaged in other such shenanigans, feeling severely uncomfortable whenever confronted with unruliness. Instead, Adrianna was the type of child to go back into the classroom after recess without so much as a groan - Not so much because she was oh so prim and proper, but rather that unnecessary activity exhausted her. Accoringly, through most of her teen years, Adrianna was generally a little withdrawn, barricading herself in her room. Shortly after she had turned 15, Adrianna had become so sheltered that the real world seemed bleak AND intimidating at the same time, further making her seem a little off-mark. Displeased, her parents organized for a doctor to check her out, who could find nothing inherently wrong with the girl, except that she was incredibly lethargic. As the end of high school came close, Adrianna developed a penchant for fashion, finding joy in crafting designs for all types of clothes and accessoires. Though her parents would've prefered for the girl to eventually take over her father's company or follow her mother's footsteps and become a doctor - two options that are entirely unappealing to Adrianna - even this, quote unquote, "plebeian trash", came as a welcomed surprise, if for nothing but a sign of ambition. Since then they supplied Adrianna with the means to attend a well respected private college where she attends several art and design centered courses.

THEME SONG:

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- Adrianna's general dream physique, though prior to her combat appearance. Adrianna goes through some changes once engaging in a hostile situation and sports a more playful, moony look before. (Arm transformation not pictured.)
- It is noteworthy that, once her face has finished changing, her hair withdraws into her head.
- Adrianna's heavily coated arms and claws.
DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

199cm

Weight/Build: 114kg / Adrianna's dreamform is a solid representation of her preference for absurd asthetics, sporting quite the obscure appearance. Not unlike a drider, her dreamself consists of an abstractly adorned, spherical body with multiple stubby legs. Her body, positioned at the top, melts into the sphere at midsection height and retains her arms, upper body and head, though the back of her head develops a sort of mouth with intimidating, sabre-esque teeth and a lenghty tongue. When fully transformed, her face becomes distinctly less human, instead having a vaguely vampire-esque qualit,y with cold eyes and a flat nose. Lastly, her arms become unproportionally large and are heavily armored with claw-like hands. (Pictured in the 3rd tab)

Notabale features: Inbetween all which makes up Chloé's grotesque dream physique, it's not an easy task to single out a feature, though perhaps most disturbing is the gaping, sharp-teethed mouth developing in the back of head, possessing quite the beastly appearance.

Hair color: Dark at first, eventually disappearing entirely.

Eye color: Instead of the hazy, green orbs Chloé usually calls her own, her dreamself sports a pair of menacingly piercing, icy blue eyes.

Almost corpse-like pale, her skin tends to shimmer lightly blue-ish grey.

CORE

Serendibite // Perfectly representative, the serendibite's pitchblack appearance as well as its rarity - which leads to an outworldly price for every example of the gem - symbolizes Chloé's wealthy upbringing as well as somewhat pessmistic (ie "dark") attitude, thus being the most adequate metaphoric material one could imagine.

SPECIAL ABILITY

Void Coating - Adrianna may cover herself in a dome of complete darkness, effectively blocking offense aimed at her. Similarly to the Serendibite, which is incredibly valuable but equally rare, her ability tends to work in a high risk/high reward fashion, proving to be extremely potent in functionality and potential of duration, but may take extended periods of time to be usable again when compared to other powers as well as depleting her energy a bit, effectively sending her into a somewhat fatigued state to cool-off phases - The one situation in which she's as lethargic inside a dream as she is in real life.

Detection - The mouth on the back of head and it's high number of receptors increase Adrianna's sensitivity, and help in sensing things in a respectable radius. This ability can be influenced by over-stimulating smells or factors such as heavy storms or water, which offset air circulation.

WEAPON

Claws of the Somber Teeth - Adrianna's heavily armored and unproportionally enlarged hands function as her primary weapon. While serving well as a blunt, brute-force weapon they appear to possess the ability of channeling the same gloomy energy her Void Coating ability utilizes, serving as both, a further boosted offensive tool as well as a less recharge dependent - but also far more limited - defensive ability.

ARMOR

The metalic parts of her sizable gauntlets provide some decent protection and slightly make her look like she possesses prosthetics straight of a steampunk illustration..
PROMPT: [TITLE]

Choose one of the two application prompts to respond to, and write your masterpiece here for everyone to read.

Giyari · Dec 30, 2015

KEZIA SILVERSTONE

BASICS

Age: Nineteen

Gender: Female
Occupation: Student

Dream Title: Blood Knight

APPEARANCE

Height: 5'10"

Weight/Build: 153lb, solid build

Notable features: A Tattoo featuring flowers, feathers, and water, on her right wrist

Hair color: A natural Dark Auburn

Eye color: Blue

Complexion: Fair
AMBITION

Kezia has a want for adventure, for something thrilling and exciting to fill her days. She takes huge risks, bets her safety and security on chances most people would shy away from, and she loves it. The driving force behind Kezia's life is adrenaline, excitement and adventure. ou could say recent events are a "Dream come true" for her.

PERSONALITY

Hot headed, rash, energetic, manic. Kezia comes across as many things when she's running around jumping in and out of dangerous and uncertain situations with a huge grin plastered to her face. She loves thrills, life on the edge (she says that's the only time anyone is truly alive), and loves anything that can make her blood rush. It's rare to see Kezia without at least a smile on her face, even when times seem rough or a challenge looks like it'll be difficult to overcome, Kezia will no doubt be smiling, after all, the harder the challenge the better they pay out at the end.

Kezia has been known to deliberately noise people up and start fights just to give herself a rush, her short temper might be seen as an anger issue, or maybe a side effect of her willingness to step in the ring with anyone who challenges her. Either way, it's best you stay on her good side, and even then, you may find yourself trading blows with Kezia physically, mentally, and verbally, just because she has nothing better to do.

For all her flaws and brash actions, Kezia isn't a bad person, far from it in fact. She will stand up for those in need of help, and will face down foes and unfortunate situations with a dogged determination to win or overcome them, if you're going to look for a rush, a challenge, a fight, what better than to find ones with a cause?

HISTORY

Kezia was very into sports as a kid, loving hockey and basketball, but times have moved on as she's grown, especially with the split of her parents and moving out to her own place. She dropped out of school to make it on her own, found a job at a local bar where she gets by on tips, kindness, and winning (and losing) bets against the regulars.

Kezia enjoys her life, savours her freedom and her independence, however she doesn't think it's enough, and feels she's in danger of getting too comfortable, too complacent as life settles around her. With the reveal of Etheria and the terrors, Kezia has found an outlet for adventure, and a chance to become something even more, experience the true freedoms of the world, and many other worlds.

THEME SONG

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DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

Height: 6'2

Weight/Build: 313lb

Notable features: Four functional eyes and an exoskeleton like armour shell.

Hair color: Dark Aubourn

Eye color: Her four eyes are a opaque silver colour

Complexion: Unknown, presumably fair like her waking world self.

CORE

Mercury Core: Kezia's core consists of liquid of mercury that flows freely through her veins. The metal exudes a "madness" like berserker drive that stirs the blood, and brings a sense of power and self-confidence. As it's a liquid in it's normal state, Kezia's core is exceedingly hard to "break".

SPECIAL ABILITY

Through the power of her Mercury cores liquid state, Kezia can change the shape of her body at will, up to and including liquidising herself into a puddle to move around. Kezia can extend her limbs, shape her fingers into blades, leap from place to place as a liquid drop, squeeze through miniscule openings, and reform her body after injuries.

When in a liquid state, her body also becomes a poison, however as a liquid it lacks cutting power, so must be applied to wounds after they have been given or forcefully injested.

WEAPON

Kezia's weapon takes the form of a large spear. It's tipped with a long double sided blade, with razor edges tapering into a lengthy surgical point, but it's most notable feature is its shaft, which like her body, has the ability to "melt" into a whip like form or condense into a shortened knife-like handle.

ARMOR

Her body is clad almost entirely in an exoskeleton like armour, other than her scalp, which seems to fuse with the mask like face leaving her auburn coloured hair streaming upwards, like her hair is suspended in an unseen water. The mask has no visible facial features other than four round silver eyes. It's made of a durable material, however it also seems to be fairly brittle when solid, cracks can regularly be seen over its surface, and flakes crumble from it's edges as Kezia moves. This hints to the armour actually being a part of Kezia's body, like an insect's shell rather than clothing.
PROMPT: The Abyss Stares Back

It’s the dead of night. Thunder rolls overhead, sheets of rain pound the windows, and branches scratch and paw at the siding. A flash of lightning illuminates your bedroom, casting inhuman shadows across the wall. It’s so close that you can smell the ozone, and after a minute, you hear sirens too. But you’re too busy staring at the shadows… and you’re pretty sure they’re staring back at you.

A bright flash through the window lit up the the clock in the hallway for a millisecond, its hands scraping slowly past 3am, but there was no one around to notice. At the door of the apartment the telltale noise of keys searching for the lock with a jingle and a click signalled the arrival of the dwellings inhabitant, Kezia Silverstone

Walking quickly inside from the dimly lit corridor and clicking the door shut behind her, Kez sighed as she watched the wooden floorboards below her feet darken with damp falling from her hair and clothes, the rain outside was the worst she had seen it in months, she was soaked to the bone. Ditching her jacket on a hook by the door and kicking off her boots underneath, Kezia made her way towards the bathroom, peeling sopping wet garments from her body as she went. She didn't care if she was leaving a mess, it was her apartment, she'd clean it up later.

The light outside from the streets down below was just enough for Kezia to make her way around without turning the lights on, she'd spent all night in a dimly lit dingy bar, her eyes were well used to it. Grabbing a towel off of a rack by her shower she made half an attempt to dry her hair while wandering clumsily towards her bedroom.

Kez sat down on her bed with a sigh and threw her towel to her feet. It had been a long night, her bets hadn't quite went the way she had hoped they would go, but at least the conversations had been humorous. With a little yawn, Kezia cracked a smile remember a stupid joke one of the regulars made earlier, but it was late, and she'd been on her feet all night. Stripping off her remaining soggy clothes, she flopped back onto her bed.

Aimlessly gazing into the corner of her ceiling as her eyes glazed over and her mind wandered off to thoughts of no matter, the tempestuous sky outside raged on. With each flash that filled the room, the shadows danced in fear, but after the seconds of turmoil they began their slow approach once more. Murky black extending its way out of the sheltered corners, obscure tendrils of nothingness creeped out from behind chests of drawers and from under her desk. The black unseen night reclaiming the room from the storm's wrath.

Another deafening crack and Kezia sat bolt upright, snapped out of her exhaustion induced trance. there was no use trying to doze with that racket. The light seemed to be attracted to Kezia's pale white skin, like it was being absorbed into her body. The shadows of her room almost seemed to be visibly repulsed as the lights reflection on her naked body flashed into even the hidden corners, like her skin was lashing back at their silent approach with every thundering crack.

Shaking her head, Kezia gave a long stretch towards her ceiling and flicked on a lamp on her bedside table, the shadows of her room slithering back to the corners they claimed as their own. With a yawn she got to her feet and in a sleepy haze, went on the night time hunt for some fresh pyjamas, it could get cold at night, especially when it rained.

With a pause in her doorway, Kez gave one last look towards the murk under her desk.

"You sure you wanna try me? Think long and hard about it…" she said confidently to the black. There was no answer.

Elle Joyner · Dec 30, 2015

BASICS

Twenty-two

Female
Bartender

The Citrine Knight

APPEARANCE

Olive stands at a modest four-foot-eleven, with an eight food personality.

At a hundred and ten pounds, Olive is wider in the hips and bust than the waist, with slightly shorter arms and legs and round cheeks.

Freckles. Just everywhere.

A vibrant red, wavy, hanging just below her shoulders, blunt bangs mingling with thicker eyebrows

Grass-green with striations of lime, with long, thick black lashes.

Her skin is a pale peach with soft undertones of gold.
AMBITION

Olive's biggest dream is to some day own her own farm - complete with a herd of black and white milk cows and real honest-to-God chickens...

PERSONALITY

Cheerful, optimistic and friendly, Olive is very rarely anything but a bright ray of sunshine. She looks for the silver lining in every aspect of life, and no matter how abysmal something might seem, she'll do what she can to find something to smile about. She isn't exceptionally smart and has a tendency to be rather forgetful and gullible, but what she lacks in intelligence she makes up for in her eagerness to learn and an unerring sense of loyalty and compassion for others.

HISTORY

Olive's parents died when she was very young in a car accident. An incident which should have broken her was cushioned a woman named Imogen Martin - Olive's grandmother. Idgie Martin did everything in her power to ensure that Olive was raised to respect life and to always find the bright side, no matter how difficult things got or how dark life appeared.

After a difficult start, Olive found her wings... she grew up into a warm, kind young woman with a thirst for life and a love for the people around her. She lived a fairly uneventful life, attending what schooling she could, working odd jobs here and there, and taking care of her grandmother.

At twenty-one, Olive began working at a nightclub as a bartender - she's no fancy mixologist, but she can work a tap and has unmatched people skills, treating every customer like the most important person she'll ever meet. Recently, due largely to lack of sleep, Idgie's health has been declining. Olive has moved the older woman into her one bedroom apartment and taken to sleeping on the couch.

THEME SONG

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DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

While still four-foot-eleven, Olive's dreamself carries herself with a different sort of confidence in her posture.

Her weight more evenly distributed, she is still slightly wider in the hips and bust, but her arms and legs are slightly less stumpy.

Just so many freckles...

Her hair is the same fiery hue, but with strands of gold weaved throughout.

Her eyes are a bright green, with brilliant golden flecks, her lashes thick and long.

A warm honey color, flecked with light brown freckles

CORE
- Citrine is a joyful stone with bright energy which lights up many aspects of life. This is the absolute essence of Olive's spirit. Citrine also bears aspects of success, in addition to manifesting abundance, encouraging generosity, and because of this, Olive has a tendency to succeed in areas of persuasion. Lastly, Citrine is also a stone that brings hope, by easing negativity, and helping to stabilize energies, and through this Olive is an extremely effective booster of morale.
SPECIAL ABILITY
- Bubble generation/manipulation: Olive can form bubbles and then manipulate the shape, size and density of said bubbles. These can be used to encapsulate either herself or others, essentially forming a protective barrier - which, while not impenetrable entirely, are quite difficult to breech. The bubbles can also be used to briefly encapsulate offensively.
WEAPON
- An expanding metal staff (ranging from two to six feet in length). The staff is made of the same gold plating as her armor and etchings of fish are carved into the shaft. The staff is capped by a citrine stone on one end, and a sharp spear tip on the opposite end.
ARMOR
- Olive's armor is a gold plated steel, intricately carved to resemble the scales of a fish. Her head piece is an elaborate design of koi fish twisted together and around her neck she wears a gold collar with a citrine gemstone resting in the well of her throat.
PROMPT:

The Abyss Stares Back...

Gigi finally fell asleep somewhere between midnight and two AM. She had dozed, on and off, throughout the afternoon, but anything longer than a few minutes and she'd wiggle herself free of slumber's clutches, shaking and crying and begging Olive not to let her close her eyes again. It had taken two drops of moonflower oil (a pleasant blend of Valerian root, lavender and marjoram) in her soup, a sprig of chamomile in her tea to get her head to a pillow, but even then, Olive was certain it wouldn't last. It rarely did, anymore.

The insomnia was getting worse and Imogen's health was suffering. She'd lost weight, and considering how thin she was already, the difference was unnerving. Her bones, poking through wrinkled, iridescent skin, seemed so brittle, so fragile, and each move she made seemed to come as a great cost of energy. Imogen had always been so vibrant, and Olive did not like, for one moment, to see her grandmother fading the way she was.

With Imogen snoring on the couch, Olive sank into her favorite chair... an ugly green embroidered beast, the fabric fraying along the arms, a button missing from the cushion, stuffing popping out from the hole. It was her grandfather's chair, and her father's chair after that, or so she'd been told. While she'd never met either man, she was certain she could smell them in it... the subtle aroma of cigar smoke and motor oil, aftershave and whiskey bleeding into the fabric after so many years of use. It should've been unpleasant, the myriad scents, but they had been so well worn, so well loved into the chair that sitting there, she could almost feel them... their spirits.

As she poured through a drink-recipe analog a sudden clap of thunder shook the apartment, rattling the windows and with a small yelp, Olive jumped. Slapping her hands over her mouth, she turned her eyes to Imogen, but Idgie only gave a small snort and rolled over. Sighing gently, Olive sank back into the chair, and her gaze drifted down to the pages again. Lightning slashed in incandescent heliotrope stripes, and a second later, with a whining sort of sound, the power snapped out.

"Oh pooh." Olive muttered, closing the book. Idgie snorted again and smiling dryly, Olive rose, but as her feet his the floor and she straightened upright, she saw it. Just for a second, just out of the corner of her eye. The shift. So subtle she might've missed it, except that everything had been so still a moment ago, in the black silence. Her heart slamming into her chest, she stopped, frozen.

"...He... hello?" She murmured, whispered into the darkness. No one answered, and she felt stupid, but as she took another step, the same thing happened, only this time, she could see it fully... the shadow, creeping... slowly inching across the floor. She swallowed, turned, breath held, chest tight. A flash of lightning splashed across the sky again and for a split second the room was filled with it's brilliance. The corner was empty, the shadow gone. Darkness swelled as the light faded, but aside from her grandmother, whose slow, heavy breathing was the only sound Olive heard, she was definitively alone.

"Stupid..." She sighed, shaking her head. She passed by the couch to grab the flashlights from the drawer in the kitchen, and as she passed she just missed the shadows, peeling down from the ceiling, trickling, swiftly, tendrils of black curling across the room, slithering like snakes around the couch, around the reposed Imogen. When the woman woke with a piecing screech a few seconds later, Olive lost both flashlights with a shattering crash on the kitchen floor, but in the blackness, she could see Idgie sitting up, the whites of her eyes, the paleness of her skin. When she spoke, her voice quivered...

"...Did you see them?" She asked, and Olive could feel prickling chills creep along her skin, beads of sweat along the back of her neck, "Did you see the shadows? They're coming, Ollie... They're almost here."

Zahzi · Dec 30, 2015

'Ash Weiss'

Real name unknown.

BASICS

Age: 38 years.

Gender: Male
Occupation: Soldier; Father; Hospital bed Occupier.

Dream Title: 'The Iron Knightmare'

APPEARANCE

Height: 5'11''.

Weight/build: Weiss has been confined to a bed for the past three years, sitting at the edge of death in a coma brought on by his choice in work profession. He currently weighs about a fourth of what he should, and is quite frail.

Notable features: Various scars and nicks across his face from his occupation.

Hair color: White.

Eye color: Blue.

Complexion: Ghostly pale; after three years of a coma, it's rather expected.
AMBITION

Weiss just wants to 'get the hell out of this fucked up Wonderland bullshit escapade'. His words, not mine...

PERSONALITY

Ah, Weiss...A giant ball of rage ready to start bashing the nearest thing that sets him off and then launch it at the next poor, unsuspecting sap. And that's just monday.

Weiss has much to be angry about, though. Stuck in a dreamworld for three years, a vegatable in the real world....CAN'T SWEAR ANYMORE...You'd be a little angry too if you had to be PG in a world of nightmares.

HISTORY

Ah, Weiss. There are so many things that could be placed here. Whether it's about his life as a war orphan in Europe, ending up as a soldier at the age of ten and earning his moniker for his arctic combat, relocating to America after he made it rather clear that he had no intention of fighting for a government he had no love for.

But let's focus on more recent events. Weiss had found a home in America. A wife, and a daughter. Even found a nice, easy job for the American military. For a time, it was great. His superiors, unfortunately, were not too thrilled with someone with his background in their midst. Weiss had learned more than a few secrets detrimental to those in a higher position. What came next was no surprise to anyone. His family was targeted; He was attacked and left for dead, his wife was murdered in their home, and his daughter was abducted from her school under a ploy of being 'friends' of her father.

When his body was never recovered, they chose to demonize Weiss as a murderer and a traitor of America. Weiss had many friends, both inside and outside the United States. Upon hearing the slander on his character, they decided to find their friend, and help him get even.

A solid month of assaults in the dark, more than a few missing peoples reports, and Weiss was reunited with his daughter. Unfortunately, he was caught by surprise by one final attack, leaving him with a severe case of shot-in-the-head syndrome. It's a real killer sometimes. Or is it?

In his time in a coma, much of his fate had been hidden from the world. While They did in fact rescue his daughter, they also made sure the American people knew the score with their friend; A traitor no more, but the wounded hero. Unsure of if more would go after him or his daughter, his friends have stayed near, and transported him to an undisclosed hospital and her to the nearby area so she can continue her life. Broken, but salvageable...

THEME SONG

[media]

[/media]
DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

Height: 5'11''.

Weight/Build: Looking more like his normal self, Weiss' phisique is more imposing, standing as a soldier should, and weighing around 167lbs

Notable features: BIG SUIT OF SCARY-ASS ARMOR.

Hair color: Presumed to still be white.

Eye color: Red.

Complexion: At the moment, no one has actually SEEN him out of the armor.

CORE

Iron.

One of the most abundant elements in the universe, Iron is dominated by the planet Mars. The metal was widely used by the Asian, African and European civilizations. Iron symbolizes the male energy and is connected to physical power, aggression, growth, dependence and protection. It promotes emotions such as lust, confidence, courage, strength, stamina and resilience. It is considered to be the most ‘human’ metal and so, is distrusted by the ethereal entities and spirits.

Weiss' alignment to this core stems from his own psyche, whether it be his own aggression, powerful spirit, or courageous determination, no one who knows Weiss questions why the core chose him.

SPECIAL ABILITY

Weiss' powers revolve around the Forge. One not fueled for war, but for change. For Revolution.

Metal Manipulation: A forge needs metal in order to work properly. Weiss is able to draw into the world around him for its collection of metals, turning it to his own purposes. Whether it is to make a weapon, armor, or to hurl a wall of metal at someone, it was an easy task for him. Rumor has it he can do more than simple tricks, too...

Nova-Sol: The fires of the forge are neither timid, nor predictable. With every strike, and action, the fires burn hotter than before. Weiss generates a surge of fire within his body that builds from every action taken in either combat, or just plain stress. The fire must be purged before going beyond a certain point, most notibly purged in the sense of a devastatingly focused blast of heat, capable of melting whatever stood in its path, earth or metal, it didn't matter. If left unchecked, the fire will find its own way out, in a chaotic explosion going off in every direction. A good way to get the user killed.

Enhanced Strength: A master of the forge must be able to not only wield his works, but do so with great ease and indomitable power. Weiss' raw strength makes him a force to be reckoned with. While not able to throw a car at an unfortunate person, he can throw ANOTHER unfortunate person at them...Still just as effective..

WEAPON

Weiss uses a large two-sided greataxe. He does not carry it with him at all times, instead, the axe is made during a fight; it is created from harvested metal. Massive and unwieldy to most, the one using it must have a great amount of strength just to not be burdened by it.

ARMOR

Weiss' armor follows a rather demonic theme which he uses to make sure people don't bother him...And it works....Most of the time.

The armor itself is made of solid iron that has a darkened gray color. A red underlay lies beneath the armor; it glows brighter depending on his disposition, and how long before Nova-Sol is unleashed. The brighter it is, the more likely it is to occur.
PROMPT: [Road Rage]

Lynch, the King of Nightmares gave a tired sigh, walking through his domain. It was clear he walked with a clear purpose today. It was hard to make Lynch mad, well, save for his anger reserved for those who broke his golden rule around language. This particular circumstance though, had another reason all on its own. And the one behind it was..

"Weiss." he called into a particular room, the one named looked over. He rolled his eyes and went back to what he was doing before; fashioning something out of metal it seemed.

"Weiss, you know better than to ignore me." Lynch spoke, moving further into the room and making his way towards Weiss.

"I'm not ignoring you, Lynch. I'm just letting you start talking so you can leave me alone quicker." Weiss grunted watching Lynch from a reflection of whatever he was creating.

"There was a death in Corporea." Lynch said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.

"Oh, what a..Darn shame." Weiss responded, having to stop himself before breaking the rule right there.

"Yes. A DARN shame." Lynch examined what he was working on, before looking at Weiss once again.

"They were unidentifiable, as all that could be found was a smoldering pile next to a cinged cellphone."

"Well." Weiss continued working.

"Stranger things have happened."

"Weiss."

"It's not as if we could ever find who did such a deplorable act."

"WEISS."

"Oh come on! You KNOW it was MORE than deserving." Weiss looked back at Lynch, flailing one arm around.

"Alright Weiss, tell me EXACTLY what happened then. I will be the judge of that."

"Fine, if that will get you off my back like the decrepit monkey that you are, FINE." Weiss stood up from what he was working on and faced Lynch.

"You SENT me to my world-"

"Corporea"

"Don't CARE what you call it, it's MY WORLD. You SENT me there as a projection to help the little twerps on the Sentinel's side because they couldn't handle something. What NEITHER of you told me, was that instead of helping them remove some nightmare's teeth, as that I was in charge of DRIVING them, because out of this batch of retards NO ONE HAD A DRIVER'S LICENSE. AND IT WASN'T EVEN TO A FIGHT. IT WAS A DAMN CANDY RUN BECAUSE SOMEONE WANTED EARTH CANDY." Clearly, Weiss had some issues with this plan.

"Ah yes. That was a rather poor choice of your skills, but let's face it, your compatriots over here wouldn't have fared any better." Lynch smirked, clearly able to tell how frustrated Weiss was becoming.

"SO BECAUSE NONE OF THAT BIMBO'S TRAINED FLYING MONKEYS COULD GO THERE THEMSELVES, I HAD TO DEAL WITH A BUNCH OF KIDS WHO CAN'T SHUT UP IN ONE. TINY. VEHICLE." It was clear at this point that fire was starting to radiate through Weiss' armor.

"But THAT wasn't the worst part. NOO, I had to deal with THE BIGGEST STEREOTYPE OF SOME MILLENNIAL HIPSTER DOUCHE POSSIBLE IN HIS BRIGHT EFFING GREEN LAND ROVER. JUST CUTS IN FRONT OF ME AS I'M ABOUT TO PARK." Lynch watched Weiss' tirade, quite amused. The fire around his armor was getting worse.

"And NOW, going back to the matter at hand, the guy's remains were found near the Walmart Gas Station. You're probabably assuming I threw him at the pumps and then released all my frustration out on him in one blast of energy aren't you!? WELL GUESS WHAT? THE ASSWHIPE DESERVED IT, AND THAT'S WHAT I FUCKING DID!" Weiss roared as he then turned back to what he was working on and pointed at it with is arm as the fire around him reacted to it, sending out a blast of fire straight at the structure, not only vaporizing it, but the floor and wall behind it.

Lynch rose an eyebrow before a circle of darkness appeared directly below Weiss, sending him falling into it. He caught himself before falling entirely, his arms latched onto the floor around him.

"Language." Lynch grunted.

"OH FUCK YOU, YOU ROTTING OLD SKELETO-" and with that, Weiss was back for another session of Lynch's disciplinary sessions. Pity him,

Liberty Penn · Dec 30, 2015

Dio/Michael Creed

BASICS

Age: 20

Gender: Genderqueer (Male in the physical world)
Occupation: None

Dream Title: Pyrite Knight

APPEARANCE

Height: 6'2"

Weight/Build: 120 lb After a car accident in highschool, Michael’s body is little more than skin and bone with his years in a coma. It didn’t take long for the atrophy to strip him of his muscles and figure. The machines keep his body alive, but can only do so much to sustain him.
Notable features: He has scars from the accident that put him into a coma. The main one is on his head from above his right eyebrow to above his right ear. A chunk of the top of his right ear is missing. Scrape mark scars flow along his back and torso.
Hair color: As a child, Michael had wonderful gold blond hair. His mother used to jokingly say he was touched by Midas. His hair now was a pale blond, frequently shaved off for the ease of cleaning.
Eye color: His eyes are a bold flash of blue green, like the sea after a storm. Even in his current state, his eyes show that life remains in this weak body.
Complexion: The deprivation of sunlight over the past five years has left his body pale and waxen. The nurses open the windows to let the fresh air and sunlight in, but it does little to comfort his broken body.
AMBITION

Dio wishes to find a place to belong. A place that is real and safe. From his perspective and what he remembers, he has spent his entire life in an illusion, in the dream. The ‘real’ world has always eluded him, but that didn’t stop him from living a life where he found himself. All he wishes is to be happy and have fun.

PERSONALITY

From his many years stuck alone in Etherea, he is a little crazy. There are only so many ways someone can deal with his situation, and he ended up somewhat losing his marbles. One way this shows is that he regressed into a child, both physically and mentally. In Corporea he is 20, but in Etherea he is more around 12-14. Thus, he is very childish and quite the little trickster. Most of the time he is cheery and happy-go-lucky. Never afraid of a challenge, he will face most things with determination and overconfidence. He spent most of his days in the Weeping Woods playing games with his illusions and passing dreams and nightmares.

With his years of isolation he doesn’t really know how to healthily interact with people. He tends to swing to the extremes of being an annoying little shit to latching on to someone and treating them like his best friend in the world.

HISTORY

Up until the age of 15, Michael Creed could have been called a ‘normal’ kid. He got good grades, played sports, was polite, loved to read, etc, etc. To any who saw, he played the role of the good kid he was told to be. But what he showed no one was that he didn’t like this reality. He preferred to be dreaming. From an early age he started lucid dreaming, but this created a disconnect in his understanding of what was real. He did as he was told in one world and was free to do whatever he wanted in the other. Eventually, he stated finding himself daydreaming while he should have been paying attention in class. The only respites he had during the day were his art classes and reading in the library. The art rooms and library were the only places in the whole school he felt happy and if he couldn’t dive into his own world he could do that through a book.

In the winter after he turned 15, him and his mother were in a terrible car crash. While on the highway they hit some ice, skidded across the rode, flew into the ditch and rolled a dozen times. His mother survived with only minor injuries, but Michael had been thrown from the car mid roll and barely clung to life. Once he was taken to the hospital and taken care of, he continued to not wake up. They soon realized he was in a coma.

Michael suddenly found himself in Etherea sometime after the crash. The impact left him with quite a bit of amnesia, so he never figured out how he initially got into the dream world. His first few months were difficult. He didn’t understand where he was or why he was there. He found himself in the Weeping Woods, the area full of ghostly dreams drifting about.

This is where things started to go both better and worse. His powers started to manifest subconsciously to keep him safe. The protective strength of his Pyrite core sheltered him from the dangers of the forest while his illusions pulled his mind from the fear that was surrounding him. This resulted in the boy loosing almost all of his sense of reality, losing his connection with Michael and becoming Dio. His world became one of games and fun. He didn’t even realize he was in a dream anymore. He simply calls the nightmares ‘monsters’ and the dreams ‘spirits’. Sometime he remembers things from Corporea, from ‘before’, but it rarely helps him remember more or lingers very long.

Early during the five years that passed he began to realize the illusions were his to control and play with, and he used them while messing around with the inhabitants of the forest. A small dream that was little more than a ball of golden light was the only one to regularly stick around the boy; Dio named him Midas and welcomed him as his new best friend. He was wary of the nightmares that lingered throughout the forest, but that never stopped him from playing his games with them. They rarely hurt him, yet those times always made for the most interesting games. The majority of the games he played out were storied he knew from ‘before’. He didn’t always remember how he knew them, he just did.

Other humans passed through the woods every once in a while and he would play his regular games with them, but most of the time they would end up running away or give up chasing him and his illusions.

Throughout his years in Etherea, Dio of course has heard of the rulers of the land, the Sentinel and the King of Nightmares, but he never paid the much mind. He generally avoided them, much like the Archnid in the Weeping Woods. He knows they are powerful and can be dangerous, but has no issues with lending a hand to take down a nearby danger.

THEME SONG

Main song

Secondary song

Battle Music
DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

Height: 4'8"

Weight/Build: 100lb () Being isolated and alone (except for Midas) for 5 years resulted in Dio somewhat regressing into childhood. He is much shorter than his real self but strangely just as strong as he otherwise would be. He appears to be around the age of 12-14. Small and slim, his build is like that of a normal child.

Notable features: He has a scar above his right eye, but doesn’t remember where it came from. With his illusions he can make himself look however he wants.

Hair color: Hair of sparkling gold covers his head in a flowing mess. It rarely stays the same length, fluctuating occasionally based off his mood and what he’s doing.

Eye color: Dio’s eyes constantly shift between a deep blue and bright green. This is most indicative of his mood. Blue- happy and calm. Green- angry and annoyed.

Complexion: His skin has a warm natural tan. He has the clear, flawless glow of youth.

CORE

Pyrite- It is a protective, shielding stone, but is also associated with being ‘fools gold’- an illusion that tricks people. Crystals of pyrite were considered stone of great magic. It taps into one’s abilities and potential, stimulating the flow of ideas. Pyrite reflects the energy of gold, bringing success, happiness, and power. For Michael pyrite represents his unease and distrust of what he sees, yet the warmth and power of his mind despite this.

It is also his natural birthstone; gold colored crystals cover July 22-Aug 21 and his birthday is Aug 21

SPECIAL ABILITY

Energy shields: For the most part this power mainly emerges as him having ‘tougher’ skin than most, but he can project some shields when he really tries. If he practiced it more often, he could definitely hone the skill.

Illusions: He can summon illusions at will. Arguably, anything is possible for him to create, from simply turning an apple purple to making himself look like a gigantic monster. The larger the illusion the greater concentration is needed. Small things he can do easily on a whim or even subconsciously. His ‘ultimate weapon’ use of this skill is Mirror Shade: it reflects an aspect of the person’s subconscious they repress and ignore. The few people he has used it on either collapsed or ran away. The majority of his illusions are childlike representations of what he thinks things should be like and references to the many books he read as a kid.

WEAPON

Stick- to most people it looks like a simple staff, but that’s because it has multiple illusions placed on it. It is actually a spear. He uses it to lean on, carry stuff, poke people with (non-pointy end), etc. “Ima poke you with my Stick”. From watching many kung fu movies as a kid(not that he really remembers), he has a fascination with martial arts and when fighting he doesn’t use the blade of the spear very often. When the light catches the blade right, it shines like gold.

ARMOR

With his whimsical illusion magic, Dio can make himself look however he wants. He can be dressed as a knight one day and just underwear with a cat's ears and a long tail the next. His regular outfit is a white shirt with a long red scarf trailing over his shoulders like a cape. His pants very from slim jeans to baggy tattered fabric. Shoes are often optional. Gender is also something he throws back and forth, partially as a lack of understanding the differences or Corporea's social norms
PROMPT: [The Abyss Stares Back]

Dio stared up at the sky, the dark clouds spinning around and around. Lying on his back on top of a hill, he watched the ethereal mist shift and glow. Storms like this were rare so he never missed an opportunity to watch it go by. He smiled, remembering the last one- he had stood on top of a large tree and was hit by a bright bolt of lightning. It stung a bit, but it made his whole body tingle in a funny way.

The storm seemed to respond to his thoughts with a flash of light in the distance. The little ball of light that was sitting on his chest jumped up and zoomed under his vest as the thunder rolled over them. “It’s ok. It’s ok,” he repeated as he chuckled. Midas, on the other hand, never liked the storms. He would usually hide in Dio’s pocket when they came by. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said warmly as he stood up, grabbing his staff. Running over to the tree at the peak of the hill, he snapped his fingers and it became a streetlight. Jumping onto it, he started to sing, “Let the stormy cloud chase everyone from the place! Come on with the rain, I’ve a smile on my face! I’m singing in the rain!”

Dio looked up to the clouds again, feeling the rain fall on his smiling face. His pocket gave a jump as another bolt fell, this time much closer. An image flashed before his eyes, a memory, more distant and fuzzy than that of last storm. A child that looked like him sitting next to an older woman, listening to the tune he had just sang out as the rain beat against the windows. The vision faded as fast as it had come. The boy brought his had up to his vest pocket, stroking it as he affectionately said, “Come on Midas. They’re not that sca…” BOOM. His sentence was cut short as his world was suddenly filled with a flash of light.

Half of the tree that was a streetlight a second before was gone. Dio had tumbled off of it as he felt the bolt coming, but was still slightly singed. Midas flew out of his pocket and zoomed around his head in obvious anger at him. Michael couldn’t help but laugh, “Well that was perfect timing!”

After Midas had calmed down and Dio’s sides hurt from laughing, the two decided to head for shelter before the storm got worse. Despite his own jovial feelings at the moment even he felt the growing sense of unrest as they approached the forest line from the isolated hill. The storms always had a strange effect on the world. The creature were more agitated and the monsters more aggressive. Everything seemed a shade darker, even without the clouds.

As the two made their way through the woods Dio was hit with an even more unsettling feeling, they were being watched. He had once made the bad choice to challenge a monster during a storm once before. After that he made a point of never doing it again. Staring at the darkness between the trees, he calmly said, “Midas, lets go back to the hill.” Keeping an eye behind them, they made it back to the clearing without incident. Climbing back to the top, they sat beneath the half of a tree, as another bolt struck just past the forest line. Illuminating the front line of trees in a silhouette, he saw dozens of shadows sitting amongst them. The two stayed where they were until the storm passed overhead and the daylight shown again.

DJ MagicHat · Dec 30, 2015

Xavier McAllister II

BASICS

Goes By: Anderson

Age: 24

Gender: Male
Occupation: Field Agent, Class 04A – Target Retrieval

Dream Title: Black Jadeite Knight

APPEARANCE

Height: 5' 6"

Weight/Build: ~160 lbs., mostly lean muscle. Well-defined physique, built for quick, light movement. Very dexterous, but doesn’t take hits well.

Notable features (birthmarks, scars, etc): The “aura” he seems to give off that makes most people avoid him in the first place; many scars that crisscross his back and limbs, one across his right cheek, one down the side of his face less than an inch from his left eye.

Hair color: Jet black

Eye color: Emerald green/Hazel brown

Complexion: Pale skin from lack of exposure to the sun, mostly covered by the black garb Xavier wears by choice and because of his line of work. Very few have seen enough of his skin to see the scars that crisscross over his body.
AMBITION

Xavier seeks only one thing: the annihilation of “his” nightmares. This technically covers all nightmares, but he doesn’t necessarily see it that way. Not all the time, at least.

PERSONALITY

Describing Xavier as “corrosive” would be putting it too nicely. Practically every experience in his life has been a new unrelenting Hell to him, always wrought by people unafraid to blatantly show him that it was their doing and that he had no choice but to endure it. As such, he doesn’t talk too much. When he does, most people immediately decide to never talk to him again, lest he decide to respond with more than a nod.

Xavier deals with people as little as he possibly can, and most people seem to be okay with that. He’s aggressive by manufactured nature, and it spills over into every aspect of his life. How he speaks, how he deals with people, even the way he walks and composes himself.

The only time he really interacts with people at all is in combat. Self-raised under a warrior’s training regiment, some might say he seems…almost gleeful, when he’s fighting. If they ever had the chance to learn about him, they’d know that he’s also somewhat egotistical about his fighting skill; the more he enjoys or anticipates a fight, the more he wants an audience for it, even though he would never admit it.

However, buried under all that aggression, venom, egotism, and virulent behavior is a motivation rooted in innocence: Xavier seeks peace and balance for himself.

HISTORY

Xavier’s tale begins when he began lucid dreaming. He started lucid dreaming when he was six, with no solid understanding of exactly what he had done. A curious child, he tried to learn everything he could when it happened; however, he didn’t get the chance to truly begin to learn.

All he remembers is a bad dream. Nothing more than that, and a restless night because of it. But what really happened was much worse.

A nightmare managed to slip through a tear in the Veil, and found its way to where Xavier lay sleeping. Through his core, it used him as a vessel to sow chaos where it could. With his sleeping form, it drove fear and madness into the minds and hearts of his family.

Xavier woke up the next morning to find his home torn apart and terror behind his parents’ eyes.

He tried to understand what had happened, to the best of his ability. Unfortunately, at such a young age it’s nearly impossible to articulate a thought like that, much less get the kind of answer you’re looking for. And given what happened, it was that much harder to get any information from anyone at all.

Then it hit the news, and what had just been an issue with his family suddenly became something he had to deal with everywhere he went. If there had been hope of hiding from it before, that hope ran out as soon as the first broadcast aired.

A week had passed since “the incident,” as it came to be known, occurred. In that time, the news stories covering what had happened not only made it impossible for Xavier to go anywhere because of the fear his mere presence incited now, but left him in a survival-only mental state. He would eat, he would sleep, he would pursue his hobbies and interests (albeit with much less enthusiasm than usual). But he would only leave his room to use the bathroom or to get food, the latter of which was immediately brought back to his room, the used dishes returned afterward without a word.

Seven years after the fact, after all but the fear had died, yet another visitor came to call because of the incident. Xavier could tell this one was different, somehow; he tried to catch some of what they discussed with his family, but only caught bits and pieces before he heard the stairs creak and his parents wanted to talk to him.

They came in, and Xavier noticed two severely dressed men standing outside the doorway. He was told that they knew about what had happened, and could help him prevent it from happening again. They helped run a training program dedicated to giving others who had gone through similar experiences the tools they needed to beat the never-ending fear that had eaten away at him for so long. At the end of the ensuing discussion, Xavier packed up what he felt like bringing, and left with the two strangers.

Unfortunately, he and his family had been lied to in a way none of them would comprehend until it was far too late.

Xavier arrived at a government training facility, not knowing what to expect. He got as settled as he could, but still kept to himself as much as was possible. For the first couple of weeks, it was alright – not great, but certainly a major improvement over his previous circumstances.

And then, one day, he found himself in trouble for something he didn’t do. He tried to explain this, but he wasn’t given an opportunity to explain himself – he was simply accused based off of a lie one of the staff told their superiors. Afterward, he told himself that it was just a one-time incident, and that things would turn around; they had to. That kind of thing couldn’t become a regular occurrence…could it?

The second time the staff turned on him, he tried to call them out on it, and was ignored. The fifth time it happened, he was also labeled as hysterical because of how poorly he reacted to it. By the end of the month, he was a ball of nerves because he knew it would happen again for some reason; he just didn’t know when.

Nearly a year passed, and the staff just kept finding new ways to make life harder for him. He got blamed for things he hadn’t done, pulled away from whatever he was doing at someone’s whim to get scolded for things that weren’t causing any bother or just flat-out weren’t true, and pulled away from whatever he might be in the middle of to do “more important” things that were far too simple, repetitive, and boring. Xavier had tried telling his parents about what was going on whenever they spoke, but even when they did seem to believe him nothing changed. He had tried commiserating with his peers about it, but so many of them seemed not to notice or care that he quickly gave that up. No matter what he did, he could feel a darkness growing in his heart…and it grew stronger every hour.

Feeling backed into that darkest of corners, what had been depression before became thoughts of suicide – sometimes longing thoughts. At least once a week, something would happen that would prompt an announcement of how Xavier was going to take his own life. And every time he did, he would get a call from his family, who would try to understand what was happening. Xavier knew they couldn’t, because they weren’t there. They never saw how he and the others got treated, or that it was him more often than anyone else. Several of those calls ended with Xavier hanging up on them. There no longer seemed to be a point to anything in life; consciousness was a never-ending struggle, and all the physical, mental, and emotional strain of it all was reaching a critical mass. His hobbies and interests were just chores to him, at this point. At any given moment of any given day, the only thing he wanted was to go back to bed and not wake up again. Everything in his life was pain, if not in one form than in another. And the day that Xavier realized this, something finally broke inside him.

He was tired of fighting, only to fail. He was tired of always being wrong, even when he knew he was actually right. He was tired of the nightmares, of the helplessness, of the hopelessness of it all. He was tired of the constant ache in his chest, the longing for everything to just…be done. To end it all.

And in that moment of true despair, the darkness that had clutched at his heart for so long consumed it. All his fear, his anguish, the sheer hopelessness of everything he had endured – in that moment, it twisted him, it warped him, it hardened him to the world. He wouldn’t give up like this. He couldn’t. For the first time in a long time, his anger flared up, and somehow he knew there was only one way to quell the flames.

He was going to take his nightmares down, head-on.

From that moment on, he trained himself physically and mentally to be a warrior. He learned of his own shortcomings in combat and how to minimize the risks they posed as much as possible. He trained in the use of firearms and improvised weapons. He performed research and conducted experiments involving the fusion of his old hobbies and interests with military-grade weapons technology. He discovered sides of himself so terrifyingly powerful that he is no longer allowed to bring some of them to light, because of the sheer destruction that would bring to himself as well as everyone and everything around him. He did everything he could to turn himself into a weapon, driven by the single-minded purpose of destroying his fears by any means necessary.

Because of his training and his involvement with “the incident,” he was recruited by the government agency that controlled his teenage years, which was created to deal with such things. Despite his demeanor, he is currently the agency’s top field agent.

But despite all the horrors he’s endured, all the damage that has been done, he is still a good person deep down. Very, very, very deep down. He may ignore a lot of important things in life, but his ultimate goal is one of salvation; some level of inner peace for himself. Once he achieves that, a whole new world of possibilities will open up for him.

THEME SONG

[media]

[/media]
Other themes & inspirations (in no particular order):

Eye Of The Storm + Immortalized - Disturbed

The Sound Of Silence - Disturbed
DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

Height: Same as in Corporea.

Weight/Build: Same as in Corporea.

Notable features: Same as in Corporea.

Hair color: Same as in Corporea.

Eye color: Same as in Corporea; however, they have a tendency to glow when using his powers or his emotions flare up. Typically a dark blue/purple, but other shades are also possible, such as red or green.

Complexion: Same as in Corporea.

CORE

Xavier’s core is made of black jadeite, a rarer form of black jade.

Jade of all kinds is revered as a stone of protection, commonly referred to as a “guardian stone” or as being used to make “guardian talismans.” While many of the properties that led to this title technically apply to Xavier, they do so in indirect or incomplete fashions; one might speculate that his history and personality have turned his core black, thus warping its typical functions.

Jade is known to protect an individual by encouraging introspection, allowing for peace through strength, absorbing negative emotions, stabilizing the personality, and assisting in “creating magic for the highest good and in protection from harmful or deceitful entities during spirit work.” In Xavier’s case, however, these meanings change; some more so than others:

- Xavier isn’t just introspective; he voluntarily cut himself off from the rest of the world and refuses to deal with people unless he has no choice in the matter.

- While his resolve is impressive, the closest to “peace through strength” that Xavier gets is fighting and defeating nightmares and Terrors. His strength through fighting brings others peace, whether he realizes it or not.

- Xavier is an avatar of negative emotions. His core keeps them in balance, instead of absorbing them completely; this may be at least part of the reason why his core is black jade.

- Where many others would have gone off the deep end after going through what Xavier endured, he seems…at peace with it, in a way. He is by no means over anything, but is instead using it as a drive, a motivation.

- Xavier only seeks one thing: his own peace. However, by hunting nightmares, he’s doing the greatest good he can in Etheria, and for that his core lends him more strength, speed, and stamina than he has in the waking world.

Jade, in general, is known as “the ultimate Dream Stone,” which may be how Xavier was able to begin lucid dreaming at such an early age.

SPECIAL ABILITY

o Twilight’s Embrace – Xavier’s dark past and preference to keep to himself have given him an affinity with shadows. He can, at will, summon up shadows and control them at will. The shadows he controls must somehow connect to him, and can perform simple melee actions (grappling, blocking, thrashing, etc.). These shadows can be summoned regardless of lighting.

o Shadowblink – Xavier’s affinity with shadows allows him to travel between shadows, up to a certain distance.

o Darkflame – When aggravated, Xavier’s shadows appear to catch fire; however, the flames are as black as the shadows themselves, and do cause some small amounts of fire and corrosive damage to whatever they strike.

WEAPON

Weapon: Vengeance

Vengeance is a semi-sentient shadow, born of Xavier’s emotions and experiences. He has the ability to take whatever form Xavier thinks of, or willfully summons up – within reason, of course. The bigger or more complex the weapon in question becomes, the harder it gets for Vengeance to take its form. Typically, given his training and personal preferences, Vengeance is in one of three forms: a scimitar, a scythe, or a bolt-action rifle.

Because Vengeance was created from Xavier’s emotional and psychological turmoil, he is very tightly linked to Xavier’s mental and emotional state. When Xavier is calm, collected, and decisive, Vengeance is stable, malleable and reliable. However, when Xavier’s emotions get out of control, when his deeply-buried smoldering fury takes hold, Vengeance will quickly shift between possible forms, become a strange amalgamation of two or more things, or even dissipate entirely until Xavier can get ahold of himself again.

ARMOR

Black leather trench coat/duster, practically made of patches and jagged lines of poor sewing holding rips/tears together; large black hat with a wider brim, shading his eyes; aviator sunglasses; black jeans, worn from travel and fighting; steel-toed hiking boots, also black. While this matches his appearance in Corporea, his coat acts like a kind of malletspace in Etheria, providing him with the same payload he carries in the waking world.
PROMPT: The Abyss Stares Back

Thunder rolled overhead, drowning out the distant chimes of midnight as sheets of rain pounded the windows, and branches scratched and pawed at the siding of the nearby buildings. A flash of lightning lit the entire sky, casting inhuman shadows across the landscape for miles around. A man who called himself Anderson stood nearby, unfazed by the smell of ozone, and the wail of sirens a minute later.

That’s the third time, now, he thought idly. But that wasn’t his main concern. He was standing out in the torrential downpour because of business. The big wigs always did like to pick locations like this, but seemed to favor unfavorable weather. Better concealment! The thought was bitter in his mind, but his face remained impassive and stern as he scanned the shadows. He knew, in more ways than he would ever bother to explain, that they were staring back.

But that was nothing new. He’d known for almost his entire life about what truly hid in the darkness beyond the lamps and candles others found so comforting. Now he just had one more thing to be-

“Mr. McAllister,” a familiar voice called out. Wordlessly, Anderson turned around and saw his man standing in the brush, sans umbrella as usual, same as him.

“Grady,” Anderson grunted back as he approached. “Still not getting struck by lightning, I see. And call me Anderson, dammit!”

Grady chuckled. “You know how the brass feels about that, Mr. McAllister.”

Anderson’s expression darkened, even under the cover of the storm and the ever-watching shadows. “WHAT. Do you WANT.”

“Now now, no need to attack the messenger.” Grady held out a slim folder, sealed in a plastic bag because of the rain. “Got another one for you. Shouldn’t be too much trouble, given your…skills.”

The disdain was so thick Grady could almost taste it. He glanced at it, and after another flash of lightning split the sky he tucked it into his coat, behind several of his weapons. He nodded once, slowly.

“I leave the rest to you, then,” Grady said, sounding almost like a whisper over the pounding rain and roaring winds. Without another word, he turned around and walked into the shadows again, leaving Anderson alone with the shadows he knew were staring at him. Waiting for their moment.

Watching him stare back, with malice and anticipation.

SkyGinge · Dec 31, 2015

Lee MacCallion

BASICS

Age: 26

Gender: Male
Occupation: Job-hopper

Dream Title: The Cherry Tree Knight (if applicable)

APPEARANCE

Height: 6'3

Weight/Build: 165lbs, slim but not totally skinny.

Notable features (birthmarks, scars, etc): An indiscriminately splodge-shaped birthmark on his collarbone, which he has claimed to have a number of different shapes. Lee tends to dress in smart-casual style, and his speaking voice is an emphatic bass tinged with a light Scottish accent.

Hair color: Dark brown, the kind of brown which appears black.

Eye color: An indistinguishable shade somewhere between hazel and green.

Complexion: White pale, but not Edward-Cullen-like.
AMBITION

Underneath all the bravado, all of the hobbies, all of the flamboyance, Lee just wants to find love. He views attaining a girlfriend (and subsequently a wife) as an ultimate symbol of worth and satisfaction in life, elevating it to idealistic levels.

PERSONALITY

With a near permanent cocky grin, and a strong, sure stride, Lee is the kind of guy who seems, outwardly at least, to be almost enviably at peace with life. Hard-working and jovial, Lee has the most remarkable work-ethic - when he wants something, he tends to get it, entirely through his own dedication and studies. Blessed with wit, wisdom and willpower in equal share, the laid-back Scot is a very resourceful all-rounder with the capability to make light of any situation. Very much a public person, Lee flourishes in company, and spends his private life working on things which will expand the public life.

Unfortunately, Lee suffers from what can best be described as 'Protagonist Syndrome', that is, a sub-conscious unrealised view of ones self as the centre of all events. Though not always to noticeable levels, Lee thinks he's smarter than he is, wittier than he is, and handsomer than he is, often lacking both thoughtfulness and introspection. He views himself as somewhat untouchable, and as such is very much a leap-before-you-look reckless type of guy, stubbornly fearless in the face of danger, but hopelessly tactless in the face of a friend, struggling greatly with empathy. However, this also enforces his self-confidence, and aside from the prevalent romance insecurity (which is hidden deep down within his dandy soul), he seems completely devoid of insecurities.

Out-spoken and outgoing, Lee is honest (most of the time), as long as it doesn't contradict his gentleman's code. To his male friends, he proclaims himself a 'dandy'; to others, they merely guess at this through his flirtatious, grandiose nature. Considering himself a charmer, a wordsmith, and very much a ladies man, courtship is normally at the top of his agenda, though often Lee finds himself flirting with several ladies at once, just in case.

Lee also tends towards the idealistic and the fantastical. Many of his plans and schemes are needlessly convoluted, focused more towards flair and style than convenience, and often succeed due to luck alone. Though he doesn't often show it, he can be rather vain, and tends to judge based on appearance alone (though he is very willing to be proven wrong). However, this idealisation also means he is generally optimistic, and tends to see the better sides of people, as long as they're not incredibly annoying.

Fundamentally, Lee treats every living moment like an ecstatic dream, and fails to grasp the seriousness and consequences of most, if not all, situations.

HISTORY

Born to two Scottish parents in a small town just into the Scottish borders, Lee's life was, and always has been, relatively normal. Aged seven, his parents went through a particularly rocky divorce, which lead to his older sister and father moving further North into Scotland, and he and his mother travelling south to Blackpool, where he remained until he was eighteen. Throughout school, he was popular, though not exceedingly slow, and having inherited the active diligence of his mother, was always very engaged in school life and a plethora of activities. It's a wonder he didn't find himself bogged down, all the stuff he did, but having been borne into hyperactivity he knew how to experience busyness.

Lee has always dreamed of a more exciting life than the standard life, and the first step on his path to realising these grand-dreams was to move to California for university. There, as may be expected, he flourished, and was incredibly active once more, eventually ended up as student president in his final year. Since leaving uni, he had flitted between jobs, working for a while as an assistant to a private eye, then as a trainee martial arts instructor, as a proofreader, assistant at a firing range, playing extras in films shot around California and, most recently, as a backstage worker in a theater in San Jose. All the while, however, there grew a deep-rooted restlessness, an almost unacknowledged desire to actually settle down and do something, to find his place in life and stop hopping between odd-jobs.

Becoming a Knight of Etheria was the perfect scenario for Lee, allowing him to finally fulfill the grand fantasies he'd always wanted to see come to truth. Since then, he has dedicated himself to the role with all the rigorous motivation one might expect.

EXTRA STUFF THAT WELIAN FORGOT TO PUT ON THE FORM

Lee loves both jazz music and drum and bass music, two entirely different genres both which put him at ease. As a literature graduate, he is an especial fan of 'the classics', alongside both thrillers and detective fiction. He loves sushi, cashew nuts and a good, old fashioned sandwich. Lee is an avid driver and motorhead, if a little reckless, a keen footballer (or 'soccer-er'... *sighs*), a hobbiest actor, martial artist and marksman - basically, he's the kind of guy who's tried everything at some point. He loves the high life, even if his meager wages deny him it.

THEME SONG

[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6X8K0VZ7Puo[/media]
DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

Height: 6'3

Weight/Build: 82lbs

Notable features: Lee takes on the form of a particularly expressive Grim Reaper, dressed in a long, black trench coat, waist-coat, smart white shirt, bow tie, smart trousers and combat boots. Not to mention the top hat.

Hair color: Erm... invisible? (aka: he doesn't have any)

Eye color: Again, 'invisible' colour.

Complexion: Bone-white.

CORE

Though he tells people the core is just a massive cherry (and then claims he's allergic to pacmans), it's actually the wood of a cherry tree. Cherry trees represent a vast variety of different symbols across the globe, but most famously, they symbolize romance, alongside both death and life. As a self-proclaimed 'dandy', romance is at the heart of Lee's character and desires. Cherry wood is also noted for its high yield and rapid growth potential in manufacturing, reflecting upon Lee's admirable determination and hard-working nature.

SPECIAL ABILITY

Main Ability: The Kiss of Life

The name says it all. Through the power of a kiss, Lee can heal his allies. The power and extent of the healing depends upon two factors; his emotions towards the recipient, and the duration of the kiss. A quick, cold peck on the cheek is likely to stop the flow of blood from a wound, for example, but it'd take a particularly passionate snog to cure broken bones. Yeah... it sounded like a good idea at time, but given pretty much everything, including ladies who'd have been attractive in the real world, take on freaking weird visages in Etheria, he regrets his decision highly.

Passive Ability: Harvest of Decay

Within about a meter of his person, things start to decay. Blades of grass droop, flowers sag, petals drop - even skin and flesh begins to age abnormally. This, aside from making it difficult to enjoy a good ham sandwich without the freaking ham rotting, powers up any attacks made in close quarters to him by intensifying the damage done. More importantly, it looks cool as. Though Lee rarely ever loses his cool, this effect is intensified by a raging temper.

Passive Ability: Charmer

In spite of being a skeleton, the Cherry Core distorts enemies perceptions of him to make him more attractive to them. This can have a multitude of affects; on some enemies, it does absolutely nothing, but on others, they may find themselves reluctant to attack him, or find themselves staring at his definitely-authentic-drop-dead-gorgeousness, allowing them to be easily picked off by others. Heck, some enemies even get jealous and attack him more ferociously. Unfortunately for him, this ability does not seem to effect his fellow Knights.

WEAPON

Lee's soul weapon is a shortened scythe with a blade at both ends. This gives him great versatility in battle, allowing him to use it as both a sword, a staff, a hook, a spinny-doom-propeller-thing, etc. It can be detached in the middle to split into two smaller scythes. The scythe shares the 'Harvest of Decay' aura and can extend it to further reaches. Naturally, it's made of cherry tree wood, and for some reason, the blades cannot harm Lee. Alongside this, he carrys a more tradition, completely unmagical pistol even in Etheria, which is usually useless.

ARMOR

The trench coat, in spite of being very light to wear, is magically imbued with the hardness of refined cherry-wood armor (or so he says), giving it that extra bit of resistance to both physical and magical attacks. Unfortunately, that leaves him completely vulnerable from the front, but he'd prefer style over armored convenience. Lee's skeletal body also acts as a sort of armor. Being made of bone, and technically undead, means the only time he truly feels pain in Etheria is when something damages his core (which is hidden underneath the ribcage). However, his bony body is extremely fragile and prone to rattling itself into pieces. Handily, they click back into position when he retrieves them, but it does often lead to inconveniant dismemberment and having to fight with at least one limb-missing.
PROMPT: THE ABYSS STARES BACK

The dead of night was an entirely inaccurate way of describing midnight in San Jose. There was very little dead about it. Thunder rattled the atmosphere, and the sky coughed out heavy globules of rain to patter down percussively into the earth's tissue. The howl of the lost down, the cry of the baby of a very irresponsible parent. Unconcerned by the weather, drunken laughter echoed through the streets like the befuddled yodels of a Swiss mountaineer who's stepped out of his lodge to find the mountains replaced by giant plates of jelly.

Lee lay wide awake on the little bed of the little bedroom in his little flat, his grin wry. There wasn't much that annoyed the Scotsman, but sleeplessness was one exception, an inhibition to his sleeping duty. He'd lived in this dingy place long enough to learn that Saturdays would prove difficult to sleep on, but now he was a Knight, this fact was ever more painful.

Lightning at the windows. Flashing shadows which shouldn't be. Suddenly, he was not alone.

Re-positioning himself, Lee tried to roll over as slowly as possible, squinted to get a look at it, whatever it was. He had two theories: No.1, a cat had somehow gained the power of invisibility and snuck into his room, or No.2, the more likely option - a Night Terror.

What to do. Flicking the lamp would let him see what it truly was, but then it'd probably launch into attack mode and, dressed in only his boxers, with his revolver tucked away in a draw in the other room, he didn't quite fancy his chances. The main thing was to establish whose terror it was, cause it clearly wasn't his... was it? And if it wasn't, would it even be bothered about attacking him? Lee hadn't been in the job long enough to find out.

But thinking at this ridiculous time of night was hurting him, so he gave up.

"Hello darkness, my old friend," he said, completely nonchalantly, staring into the shadows where he swore he could see the eyes of something else. There was a startled hiss. "Oh, don't be like that. You're not the first person to sneak into my room at night, and I doubt you'll be the last." Another hiss, a few aggressive chirps, whilst Lee edged back to open the curtains, started fiddling with the window. "Tricks of the trade, my friend. Really, you might pull off the whole 'I'm an evil scary nightmare monster' thing a bit better if you don't whimper in the darkness like a hungry pup."

With that, the terrorised terror gave off a terrible shriek and leaped towards him. Lee hoped the neighbours wouldn't get the wrong idea. He caught it just before it reached his face, its gnashing teeth chomping away at the air mere centimeters from his nose. They wrestled for a few long moments, like James Bond tussling with a carpet, until eventually Lee gained enough of an upper hand to allow its own momentum to toss it out of the window. He watched trivially as the otherworldly monster plummeted to its death, then closed the window, the curtains, and crawled back into bed.

Hope the next visitor I have in here is a little less hairy, he thought.

Writer · Dec 31, 2015

Thomas Ray

BASICS

26

Male
Freelance Website Designer

The Silver Knight

APPEARANCE

5'10"

150 lbs, slightly muscular, medium build.

No birtmarks

Medium Brown

Blue

Decently tanned, clear skin.
AMBITION

Thomas' number one goal in the world is find, quite literally, what he wants to do with his life, and who he really wants to be. In many ways, he's haunted by the words of his dying mother: "Be true to who you are." Finding how to be true to who he is can be difficult when he isn't sure who is.

PERSONALITY

A shy, sometimes awkward individual, Thomas is most at rest when he is alone with his thoughts. His experiences in life have made him slow to open himself up to others, even when he knows he would benefit from doing so. Often jokingly called "Doubting Thomas," Thomas is a person who lacks confidence in his actions. He frequently second-guesses both his actions and the actions of others. It would not be a far stretch to say that Thomas lacks that personality of masculine dominance that some other men have.

HISTORY

Thomas' life was relatively normal for much of his time. Growing up, he did the things most boys his age did - sports, chased girls, and played video games. He never really thought about why he did those things, he was simply trying to go with the flow and stay "popular." What Thomas wanted to do, who he wanted to be, he let others define those things for him. He ignored his inner voice.

The most significant moment in Thomas' life is the death of his parents. It happened quickly and suddenly. In the dead of the night, police told him, their car slipped on the ice as they were heading to go to a movie, causing the car to spin out of control and off the side of the road into a ravine. Thomas' father died immediately, but his mother survived, for a time.

Thomas had been in college in another state at the time, and booked the first flight back home. He made it to the hospital in time to spend some last tender moments with his mother, who, although she had survived the initial force of the impact, had too much internal bleeding. The doctors were able to delay death, but only delay. His mother succumbed to her wounds seven hours after he arrived.

In those seven hours, his mother confessed that she felt like he hadn't discovered who he was yet, that somewhere in there was a beautiful girl who would change the world forever. Thomas dismissed the ramblings of his mother, clearly she hadn't meant to say girl. There was no way she could know about Claire. However, what she said about finding his true self stuck with him.

Claire was Thomas' hidden secret, the personification in his dreams of everything he felt he was not. Ever since he was a kid, when he went to sleep, he became Claire. Every night, he would relive and recreate the day's events as if he was Claire. Why Claire? Why a girl? Thomas never even thought to question those things, it just seemed natural. He didn't think of her or conjure her up in a daydream, it was like she was always there. Claire, although Thomas did not realize it, was the personification of Thomas' inner voice. Although he ignored Claire in the real worlds, in his dreams, where everything was imaginary, it was all to easy to listen and become Claire.

THEME SONG

[media]

[/media]
DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

5'5"

120 lbs, slender, soft with hidden muscle

No noticeable features

Dark Brown

Blue

Flawless, smooth skin

PERSONALITY

The personification of many things Thomas does not see or like about himself, Claire is a social deviant, able to strike up conversation with anyone. She projects her femininity, not as a sign of weakness, but of strength. Claire is proud and confident of her abilities and who she is. A natural defender of the weak and maligned, she protects those in need. When she speaks, there is a certain clarity and focus in her voice, as if every word as been specifically chosen in that moment. Every action she does is calculated and deliberate. Claire is a bit arragont and presumptuous. She tends to assume she knows what is going on, when that may not be the case.

Claire does not overpower Thomas though. Even though he has the tendencies to act the ways Claire does, there still exists seperation between Thomas and Claire. There may be times where Claire expresses doubt, wants isolation, or other things that are more of the Thomas side speaking through. The more time Thomas spends as Claire, however, the more her personality rubs off on him.

CORE

The Silver Knight, Claire's core is obviously silver. Silver connects, and in many ways symbolizes, who Claire is. Silver is able to withstand abuse, weathering and heat, yet still able to molded into something beautiful. Claire, in the same way, is persistent and flexible. It takes more than a single shot to knock her down. Silver is a very feminine metal, an obvious connection to Claire's femininity. Besides femininity, purity is the other biggest symbol of silver. Pure in heart and mind, Claire understands things quite clearly. Wealth is also something that silver symbolizes, having been used in a variety of coins and currency. Claire's outfits project that.

SPECIAL ABILITY

Silver is a metal of healing and protection, and to that end Claire's special ability is focused on protecting and healing her, allowing her to protect and heal others. Claire's body has a regenerative healing factor. Claire is able to quickly regenerate (in a matter of seconds, possibly longer for limbs) from injuries sustained: can recover from loss of limbs, burns, wounds, punctures, tissue damage, and organ damage. Claire is in very good physical shape as her body is constantly reverting to healthy state, granting her extremely high stamina and vitality. Due to the nature of her healing, she still feels pain, but she has a much higher pain threshold than the average person. There are obvious weaknesses though. It takes time for her limbs to regenerate, usually around thirity minutes to an hour. While her body can regenerate, it can't recover from too much damage at once. Cutting off her head kills her instantly. She can be frozen in place, which her regeneration can do nothing about, or if she is under water, she can still drown and die from a lack of oxygen. There are other ways like this that she can be killed or removed.

WEAPON

The weapon that Claire chooses to arm herself with is a purplish parasol with silver trimming. The parasol can repel rain, block the sun and become translucent. It is capable reflecting most attacks thrown its way back towards the attackers, including bullets. The ends of the umbrella can become razor sharp, enabling Claire to swing it like a sword and cut the silver edges. There is also a button the handle of the parasol that launches a sharp silver dart like a bullet from the middle of the parasol. The parasol has unlimited darts that it can shoot, but it is semi-automatic and after twelve shots it takes about seven seconds for the parasol to queue another twelve shots for firing. The parasol can be collapsed and used a rudimentary blunt object, similar to a baseball bat with a sharp point. Finally, the parasol can provide levitation akin to Marry Poppins, enabling her to float through the air when held in one hand. If you've seen Kingsmen: The Secret Service, this would be like a magical take on that.

ARMOR

Claire's atypical attire is pictured above, an elegant purple dress trimmed with silver wolf's fur. She wears long silver silk gloves with a silver cloth that she holds around her elbows. Her neck is adorned with more silver wolf's fur in the form of a scarf, and a beaded necklace made entirely of pure silver. Atop her head rests a purple Southern Belle hat complete with a bow. The outfit is notable in that it affected by regeneration. If the outfit is ripped up with gunfire, when her body repairs her skin, the outfit will supernaturally be repaired too. Another example is that if she is put on fire, when the fire goes out, and her body repairs the burned skin, her outfit will be restored too.
PROMPT: Nature's Calling

The mail. It was such a simple task. A routine that required, thankfully, minimal human interaction. All Thomas had to do was walk the fifty feet or so from his front door of his condo the end of the street, open the mailbox, collect the mail, and walk back inside. What could possibly go wrong? Everything.

Thomas stepped out of his house, dressed in his PJs and a T-shirt, into the hot California sun. It was scarcely even morning and already the heat was oppressive. There had been quite the heat streak of late, which had only resulted in worsening the drought and causing further water restrictions across San Jose. Thankfully, the street was clear of all other humans, ensuring he wouldn't have to have any human interaction this morning.

The first thing Thomas went to collect was the San Jose Mercury News off his porch. Sure, he was technology guy, and most people loved to consume their news online these days. Thomas, though, was still sentimental towards the newspaper. He remembered he was younger, how his father used to get up early every morning with his cup of coffee and the morning news. He always admired his father doing that, and in some small it was Thomas' way of remembering his father daily when Thomas did the same thing.

Unfortunately, it seemed the newspaper never made it to Thomas' condo, or if it did, it was certainly gone now. Irked, Thomas grumbled slightly aloud to himself about calling up the newspaper. This wasn't the first time they had failed to deliver the newspaper. He suspected the fault lay on the local delivery boy, a small fat kid eight years of age, although he had no evidence to collaborate that theory yet.

Stepping out to the curve, Thomas had just arrived to his mailbox to collect the mail when he spotted something most peculiar. There was a dog, a beautiful golden retriever with a gorgeous coat, walking around the street with no leash. In that moment, their eyes locked for a moment. The dog, in response, began bounding over towards Thomas. Unsure how to respond, Thomas just stood there and watched the dog.

Halfway there, the dog just stopped and began to do its business on the sidewalk in front of his neighbor's house. Thomas couldn't help but snicker at the dog, and the location the animal had chosen to relieve himself at. The neighbor was a bit obsessed with his property, keeping it freshly cut, watered, and maintained. You know those people that want to try and win that best lawn of the neighborhood award? That was Thomas' neighbor. When he saw the dog poop on his sidewalk, Thomas could only only laugh to himself at gasket the old man would blow.

Thomas about jumped out of his skin a voice began yelling near him. “You should be ashamed of yourself! Control your stupid animal!” In bewilderment and shock with mouth agape, Thomas spun to see who had suddenly started shouting, completely unaware that was anyone even near him. The voice belonged to an old lady, pruny as could be. Thomas had no idea where she had even come from, much less how she had managed to sneak up on him without him hearing her.

"What are you looking at me for fish-mouth? Get that dumb beast inside your house now! You're lucky I don't call animal control on you!" Thomas, still stunned, didn't know how to react. The dog wasn't even his!

"But it's not -" Thomas began to tell the old lady.

"-Well go on! MOVE IT!" The old lady yelled even louder this time, interrupting Thomas. Embarrassed at the scene that was being caused and being trampled on by this old woman, Thomas just wanted to retreat back into his shell. The fastest way to do that, it seemed, was to deescalate the situation as fast as possible, which involved getting the dog inside his house. Grabbing the mail out of the mailbox quickly, Thomas darted across the lawn towards his front door. He opened the door, tossing the mail onto the floor next to the door, then turned back to look across the lawn at the dog, doing his best to ignore the death glares the old lady was sending his way with her evil eye.

"Come on boy! Come inside!" Thomas called out to the golden retriever. At first, he thought the dog was going to ignore him, but by some miracle it seemed to hear him. The dog, finished with its business, trotted carefree across his lawn and up to his porch. Thomas slowly backed inside of his house, holding the door open for the dog to follow, which it did.

With the dog now inside, Thomas stepped past the animal, closing the door, and heading down onto the street past the old woman who was still standing there with her evil glare. "Look, I'm sorr-" Thomas began to apologize.

"-I don't want to hear your apology!" The old lady screeched, interrupting Thomas again. "Pick up that poop now! And if I see that dog free outside again, I will call animal control and have them come put that beast down. You're lucky I'm in a good mood today!" A good mood? Thomas thought to himself. Then what the hell was she like when she was in a bad mood? Thomas, though, wasn't about to say those things to her face. He was terrified of that old lady now.

Thomas moved to the poop to go pick it up, before realizing he didn't have anything to pick it up with. Should he go back inside and grab something? No, that wouldn't help, he doubted. That would also probably make the old lady yell even more. So, he did the only thing he could think of. He picked up the dog poop with his bare hands, and ran, as fast as he could, to his house and to the bathroom trash can, slinging the poop into the container.

After thoroughly scrubbing his hands, he made his way back to the window next to his front door to see if the old lady had moved on. Sure enough, just as stealthy she had appeared, she had vanished into thin air. With a sigh of relief, Thomas let out all the pent up stress that the old lady had put in him. It was then he heard the sound of a dog growing, sounding like it was tearing something. The dog! He had forgot the dog!

He ran into his living room to find the dog there, shredding what else but Thomas' mail. It was already scattered into fragments around the floor, the dog ripping up the remaining large pieces and rolling around in the debris. Just great, Thomas thought to himself. He had only been awake for an hour, and already it was going to be one of those days.

Lady Warlock · Jan 1, 2016

Jocelyn Vontair

BASICS

26

Female
Obstetrics Nurse

The Guardian Knight

APPEARANCE

5’7”

139lbs; Jocelyn has a fairly slender build; the build of someone who is on their feet a lot.

Scar on the lower left quadrant of her abdomen from appendectomy, freckles on her face - they’re more prominent in the summertime, tattoo of an angel on the back of her right shoulder

Blonde

Green

Fair skin that usually burns and then tans
AMBITION

Jocelyn’s number one goal is to be a good mother, both to Lacey, her foster daughter, and to any and all children she has in the future. Although she still hasn’t found an 'appropriate' husband, she has wanted to be a mother for as long as she can remember; even as a little girl, when people asked her what she wanted to be, her answer was, “a mom.”

PERSONALITY

Jocelyn is a fairly serious person although she really tries not to over do it. She struggles to understand humor sometimes and any attempt at humor from her personally is rare at best although more often it is nonexistent. Jocelyn is also very grounded in reality. She struggles with playing pretend and imagining things that aren’t real - it's a difficult flaw for her to deal with given she has a three year old running around although she manages it somehow or another.

As far as making friends goes, Jocelyn really isn’t one to approach people on her own. She really needs to spend a lot of time around a person before she will make any significant attempt to get to know them, and even then, she struggles with finding common ground with other people. All too often, she is labeled the quiet nurse at work among her coworkers although she is social enough to establish good rapport with her patients and their family members.

Jocelyn’s favorite thing to do is be around all the newborn babies. When there is no work, she’s often in the nursery rocking them which only makes it harder for her to actually give them back to their real mothers when the time comes for that.

HISTORY

Jocelyn was born to a middle class family in a fairly decent neighborhood. She was the first girl to be born with the last name “Vontair” in quite a few generations - more than anyone ever cared to trace back. Up until her, the family had been cursed (or blessed, depending on how you look at it) with sons and only sons. It was for this reason that Jocelyn’s birth was a source of celebration for everyone in the family and she grew up in a very loved home.

As she grew up, her family grew as well. Her mother and father were quick to give her both a brother and a sister, the twins being two years younger than she herself was. Expanding the household even more, the family came to be the proud owners of two cats and a dog. Although the family home quickly became something of a ruckus, it was always a good place to be and Jocelyn never had any reason to believe her family was anything less than perfect.

Going through school, she was a model student and her grades were always above average. Her parents were proud, and she set the standard high. It was something her siblings were always trying to match or beat although they rarely, if ever, succeeded. The only problem she ever had was deciding what to do with her life. One thing was certain almost right away. Jocelyn loved her family and she wanted to create something that was just as great. Jocelyn wanted to be a mother, to have children just like her own parents did. She loved taking care of little kids and throughout high school, she even worked as a nanny for a neighboring family with two younger kids. At first, some suggested someone with such a love of kids should become a teacher; however, Jocelyn was never quite sure on that one. Eventually she decided that being a nurse and working with kids would be more than sufficient.

Jocelyn’s journey of life led her to nursing school and for once, school was actually difficult. Jocelyn struggled in her first classes and it didn’t get any easier after that. If anything, it became even more challenging the further along she went, but she loved everything she was learning. It all made sense and it all led to her being able to better take care of all the people in the world who needed it. Even then, her life seemed perfect.

Alas, it could not last. Jocelyn’s dad suffered from three heart attacks during her first year of school alone and slowly but surely, it was beginning to look worse and worse for him and for her family. She tried to spend as much time with her family as she could; she went home every weekend and she called often. She could’ve swore she was doing everything she could to try and be there for him and for the family. And then everyone got excited when they got the phone call. He was eligible for a heart transplant and they had a heart ready and waiting for him. All that was in the way was a two hour drive… a two hour drive and a car crash.

Jocelyn’s dad passed away after losing too much blood from the injuries he sustained in the accident. Her mother was hospitalized for almost a month. Jocelyn sunk into a pit of grief and depression. She dropped out of school and spent a year working at a lame fast-food job, making enough money while living in the family home with her mom and her siblings who hadn’t quite gotten out of the house themselves just yet. Over the course of a year, her family began to recover from the shock of what had happened, but Jocelyn’s recovery was slower, worse off. She had a boyfriend for a while, but he couldn’t put up with her constant grief so he left before anything could come of it.

Eventually, her mother had no choice but to offer an ultimatum. Jocelyn had to go back to school or she had to move out. Choosing the latter, Jocelyn returned to nursing school and she passed through everything. Her grades were on the lower end of acceptable, but they passed her well enough that no one questioned it. She still loved what she was learning and when she graduated, Jocelyn entered right into the OB position she still holds today.

One day, her mother came to visit Jocelyn in her apartment and noted that the place felt rather empty. It lacked the feeling that Jocelyn had truly achieved everything that she wanted. It was her mother who suggested that Jocelyn become a foster parent. Her mother knew her well enough to remember Jocelyn’s one and only dream and Jocelyn was surprised at her mother’s memory although she did look into the suggestion and she took Lacey into her home soon after that. She has been taking care of and growing to love the little girl for almost a year now.

THEME SONG

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DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

In all honesty, Jocelyn’s dreamself appearance is not too much different than her real life appearance because she lacks the imagination to picture herself as anything different than the person she knows she is. Sure, her dreamself appears a bit prettier than she really is and some of her features are a bit simpler, but overall, someone could put her dreamself next to her actual self and say, “Yes, that is the same person.”

5’7”

130 lbs; slender build

Angelic tattoo on the back of her left shoulder

Blonde

Green

Fair skin that usually burns before it tans

CORE

Amethyst

This gem was well known among the Greeks for its healing properties as well as for its general calming effect on the body. It was also known for its ability to draw in positive vibes while keeping negative thoughts at bay. It is quite possible that this core is what keeps Jocelyn going despite her still present diagnosis of depression and as a nurse, it's healing properties certainly fit her entire being.

SPECIAL ABILITY

Coming from her amethyst core, Jocelyn has some minor healing abilities in her dream form although they aren’t very powerful since she has a tendency to believe that they don’t actually exist in the first place. Her healing abilities tend to drift more towards pain relief and relief of inflammation as opposed to actually being able to fix the injury at hand, though.

In addition to that, Jocelyn possesses a passive ability to ward off nightmares, keeping them from invading the dreams of those she is physically close to at the time, although this comes at the cost of turning the nightmares on her instead.

WEAPON

Jocelyn’s weapon is a saxe knife. Fairly simple and small, it fits well with her overall simplistic dream existence.

ARMOR

Jocelyn is a new knight. As such, she doesn’t wear any fancy looking armor or anything of the sort - such an outfit would definitely slow her down and further inhibit her ability to fulfill the tasks laid out for her. Instead, Jocelyn wears a simple robe that is a darker purple color. The robe is laid over simple black pants and a white t-shirt and although she may not be aware of it, the robe amplifies the positive feelings that are able to spread through her and those around her as they radiate from her amethyst core.
PROMPT: The Abyss Stares Back

It began with a flicker, a flash, a crackle. It began with a dream, a thought, a vision of imagination. Regardless of what started it, Jocelyn’s body jerked off the cloud, the tie-dyed pillowcase seeming to twirl as a bright flash of lightning flooded the room with visibility, if only for a moment before the darkness replaced it, consuming everything in the vagueness of the night.

Blinking eyes took in what they could see, and that wasn’t much. Jocelyn’s room was fairly plain and barren. The walls lacked the color that one would have expected upon meeting her because she wasn’t plain at all, but the headboard of her bed changed all of that. Plastered with pages from coloring books, covered in all the colors of the rainbow, and scribbled well beyond the lines of containment, the drawings of a child added all the life and luster that Jocelyn had ever needed, although as the lightning faded so did the color contained on each paper page. Blackness was all that remained.

Blackness… and the intense pattern of the rain as each drop left it’s patter on the drum of the roof. Branches brushed against her window, tapping incessantly, adding to the lullaby of nightmares. And none of it - not the sound, not the lights, not the continuity of the storm - none of it escaped Jocelyn’s notice because such things were simply not things that went unnoticed. They filled the seemingly empty space of her bedroom as her eyes blinked again, flickering to the window where there peeked in just enough light for her to witness the storm that raged just beyond the glass pane.

And then she saw it. There was a shadow. At first glance it looked like it could have merely been the shadow of the tree, the shadow of the branch, the shadow of the sound that scraped the glass surface. However, there was a flicker of movement beyond the tree and the shadows seemed to echo each other, miming movements as Jocelyn’s eyes watched them dance in the pounding of the rain.

That’s impossible… she couldn’t hold back her own thoughts from coming into play. They’re just shadows… they’re just shadows… The statement replayed itself over and over again in her mind, becoming haunting as it turned from statement into an entrancing tune.

Even buried within the confines of her own mind, Jocelyn heard them. She heard the sirens as they started to play, she heard their mind-numbing sound that said terror was imminent, destruction was upon them. She heard them, and yet, she couldn’t do anything about it. Her eyes were too focused, too lost in trying to put logic with the shadows even as she caught a glimpse of the colors that would go with eyes.

No… her thoughts tried to correct what she believed she saw. You’re not seeing straight. Shadows don’t have eyes. It’s just a thunderstorm. It’s a thunderstorm and the sirens are playing. That should have meant something to her. That last thought alone should have been enough to snap her out of whatever was keeping her from moving, keeping her from turning her gaze away from the window, but it wasn’t. The shadows were watching her and the more she stared into the gaze that their mere existence seemed to create, the more stuck within the trance she seemed to become, all the while her original thought continued to play in her head. They’re just shadows. They’re just shadows.

“Mommy, I’m scared.”

Jocelyn hadn’t even heard Lacey come into her room. She hadn’t heard the door open. She hadn’t heard the girl’s timid footsteps. However, at the sound of her foster daughter’s voice, Jocelyn’s entire attention snapped off of the shadows almost as though they had never even been there to begin with. Lacey was someone who was able to command her attention so much more than any feeling of fear, any feeling of being trapped in a nightmare, any feeling of something tearing at the very fabric of reality.

The sound of the sirens once again entered the presence of her mind and Jocelyn’s eyes fell upon her foster daughter as another flash of lightning brightened the image of the young girl standing in the doorway. “It’ll be alright, Lacey,” she replied, her voice smooth and calming. “How about you go grab a blanket and we’ll head into the basement together, ok?”

The little girl nodded and darted off again. Jocelyn looked back to the window, remembering the shadows and wondering if they would still be there or if they had just been a figment of her imagination. Nothing was there. Just the rain keeping the time of the thunderstorm as the tree blew against the windowpane over and over again.

Ozmic · Jan 1, 2016

BASICS

Age: 34

Gender: Male
Occupation: Novelist

Dream Title: The Malachite Knight // Empty Knight // Emerald Evoker

APPEARANCE

Height: 6'5"

Weight/Build: 190 lbs. Lean build, but not skinny. Noticeably athletic.

Notable features: Slightly sunken in and bagged eyes, showing sleeplessness (though his eyes are never bloodshot). Small scar on the right side of his lip. Mussed up hair, despite his clean cut features elsewhere (beard, etc). Dark metal wedding band with a thin green line going all the way through. Small tattoo on the back of his neck. A star with a flaming eye inside, surrounded by a circle.

Hair color: Black

Eye color: Gray

Complexion: Just slightly paler than average without looking terribly unhealthy.
AMBITION

Victor's goal in life is to always be creating. Be it something small or something grand, he strives every day to leave bits and pieces of his presence everywhere on the world in some way, shape or form.

PERSONALITY

His public persona is that of a well put-together scholarly gentleman in his mid-thirties. One assumes he enjoys the finer things and rarely finds himself in a position of much worry. He tends to toe the line between social and anti-social, enjoying time in nearly as much as spending it with others.

Behind closed doors, however, Mr. Blackwell’s calm appearance falters. Becoming a bit more manic when out of the public eye, the man is fit with bouts of insomnia and other issues due to his anxiety. His mind is rarely in the ‘off’ position and, most nights, he just cannot stop it from churning out ideas.

In dealing with this, he’s learned great control over his emotions, often able to push back undesirable emotions in stressful situations. Rarely will he be regarded in a negative light publicly.

HISTORY

Victor, even as a child, was the creative type. A writhing ball of imagination, he drove his parents and friends wild with fantastic tales of dreamscapes and wonders. The passing of his parents at a young age changed that, and changed him. He grew distant and vacant until after high school.

College helped mold him, opened him up to a brighter world and let him forget about the darkness he'd faced as a boy. His imagination flourished again and he began writing all he could, eventually self publishing a collection of mystery novels.

He found his lucky break soon after college, when a good-sized publishing company picked him up. An intern had shared his self-published work and, like that, his career began.

Even a failed marriage couldn't seem to slow him down - on the surface, anyway.

Now, he is an accomplished novelist of many years; a well known wordsmith and loved (and hated) by many. Still, he pushes forward, vowed never to stop until life forced his hand.

THEME SONG

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DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

Height: 6'8"

Weight/Build: Unknown

Notable features: This form's most notable features are the lack thereof.

Hair color: Unknown

Eye color: Glowing Green

Complexion: Sickly complexion. When flesh is seen, it looks grayish and splotched in green or brown.

CORE

Malachite is known for opaque strength and power that demands respect, captivating all with its rich green hues. Victor's personality is like this - strong without being bullying and oddly captivating.

In some uses, malachite is reveled for emotional control; able to enhance or dismiss both positive and negative emotions. Because of this, Victor is able to mold his emotions to his will, having a greater control over things like outbursts of anger or great sorrow.

SPECIAL ABILITY

Evocation – The Knight uses emotionally charged energies to draw dreams and nightmares forth from his mind or the collective minds of those around him.

In the land of Corporea, these can serve as nothing more than distractions in most cases. In extreme cases, manifestations. However, in the land of Etherea, these creatures are very much real and he can control them to fight on his behalf.

Emotional Control – The Knight can reel in emotional imbalance, halting such distractions as anger, sorrow, or even joy. Though this neutral demeanor is off-putting, the Knight is able to shield himself from emotional peril and rash decisions in both worlds. In Etherea, however, it is rumored that he can use this ability to subtly manipulate those around him.

A Touch of Toxicity (Etherea Only) – If the Knight wills it, his very flesh can become toxic, even emitting a toxic cloud. Through not immediately deadly, prolonged exposure could be devastating. Generally used as an irritant to shake away unwanted bothers.

WEAPONS

His soul-bound weapon is a tall, dark wooden staff, etched from top to bottom in strange runes and text.

Second to that is a strangely curved looking shortsword of a dark green color.

ARMOR

Face and body are covered in a tattered and dingy cloak and his face and hands are wrapped in dirty cloth. The necklace draped over his cloak is a strange symbol, curling around a glowing orb of malachite in the center.
PROMPT: [THE ABYSS STARES BACK]

He'd been writing for hours, trying to keep his mind off of other ideas like sleep and insomnia. That same damned idea had been skittering at his brain for weeks now, but every time he tried to jot it down, something came up. It was like the universe was conspiring against him.

He took a long pull from the half-emptied beer bottle on his right. Warm.

"Eck," he uttered half-heartedly and went back for another drink. Snobs be damned, he preferred his alcohol cold. A flicker of lighting cut through the curtain and thunder rumbled outside, as if agreeing with him. A bark of laughter and he was pounding away at the keys again, crafting words instead of a symphony.

A spike of lightning that lit like a flashbang startled Victor Blackwell from his hunched over position atop the typewriter, sending him reeling back and looking outside for a moment, gray eyes seeming to glow as a triad of thunder followed, rattling the empty home and threatening the integrity of the windows.

"Damn it," he sighed to nothingness, rubbing both hands across his eyes as if that would help with their dryness. He drained his beer and stood, staring around the room restlessly.

"So help me, this idea WILL be put to paper and not a thing is going to stooo..."

His words trailed off as wide eyes fell on the shadows. His back arched and froze, stiff as a board.

"...op me," he finished slowly as the electricity cut out with a 'wumph'. As soon as it did, the shades in the corner of his eye squirmed away, huddling in the corner of the room. Victor's mouth moved into a snarl and he put a hand to it, biting down on his finger.

A coppery taste assaulted his tongue. Too hard of a bite. He ignored it and stayed still, steely gray orbs scraping around the corners of the room. They were watching him, waiting for something. Waiting for a reaction.

He lowered his hand, scrambling around his pocket for something, and eventually filled the void his bitten finger had left with a cigarette. A lighter came next, the flame lingering too long at the end as he inhaled.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Exhaling, he relaxed visibly and shot a glance toward the corner. His face was like a blank slate, calm and calculating as he watched them and they watched him.

Lightning struck again, closer this time, and the smell of ozone hit his nostrils. The light reflecting in his eyes made them almost glow; a strange emerald color that stayed a second too long after the flash had left the room.

"Beep beep, Richie," he murmured at the corner in dull monotone.

THRUM. Beep. Whirr. The electricity came back on and the lamp on his desk made the room feel alive again. Empty.

"Whew," he said with an exasperated laugh, slumping back in his office chair and pushing it back toward his desk. He set the cigarette burning in a glass ashtray on the corner and tugged the typewriter toward the desk's edge again with a concentrated HMMPH.

"Now where were we..."

Kharmin · Jan 2, 2016

Danielle (Dani) Swanson

BASICS

Age: 20

Gender: Female
Occupation: Police Officer

Dream Title: Obsidian Knight/Assassin

APPEARANCE

Height: 5' 6"

Weight/Build: 120# lissome, slender

Notable features (birthmarks, scars, etc): None

Hair color: Black

Eye color: Brown

Complexion: Light, Fair
AMBITION

Danielle's innermost desire is to to avenge the death of her brother David. To this end, her ambition is to kill each and every last nightmare in the most excruciating way possible, including the Nightmare King himself should the opportunity arise. From her, there will be no quarter.

PERSONALITY

Danielle is a calm, friendly person on the outside, a ruse she uses to hide the pain and vengeful anger that resides deep within. She may seem a bit rough around the edges due to her straight-forwardness and no-nonsense approach to whatever scenario is at hand; however, that is just Dani being honest.

Knowing how fleeting life can be, and the dangers of sleeping, Danielle can be a very passionate woman when given the opportunity. With nothing else to live for, Dani strives to live for the moment and will do so to the fullest of every fiber of her being. She takes risks that others might not dare as she doesn't fear consequences or death.

Danielle may seem impatient at times which is due to her desire to return to Etherea and get back to her favorite pastime, slaying nightmares. With the addition of Night Terrors in Corporea, Dani is constantly vigilant and will jump at the quickest and earliest opportunity to destroy them as well.

HISTORY

From an early age, Danielle and her brother David were always close even in spite of the five years that separated them. Dani doted on her older brother who spoiled her at every opportunity. They never really had the rivalries that most siblings had as they truly enjoyed each others company. However, it devastated Dani when David accepted a job as a police officer all of the way across the continent in San Jose, California.

Sure, the two kept in touch as much as they were able across the time-zones. David helped to encourage Danielle in her studies and when she graduated high school near the top of her class, he scraped enough funds together to fly her to San Jose to celebrate.

While in California, Danielle's and David's parents sold the family home and retired to Florida to live out their remaining days in the warmth of the sun. David convinced Danielle to test for the academy in San Jose and she was accepted! With her brother's help, Dani soon finished her stint at the academy and joined David on the force.

Their mother suffered what was deemed a stroke in her sleep and never woke from the trauma. Weeks later, she died at the hospital. It was during the funeral with all of the family in attendance that the rumors of something else that might have killed her in her sleep began to surface. Dani dismissed them as folly until her father succumbed to a suspiciously similar fate six months later.

Back in California after their father's funeral, Danielle started to take closer notice of other such deaths in their precinct and in adjacent regions. Fascinated by the similarities in these cases, Danielle sought the detective squad that investigated these strange deaths. She was told that she needed more experience on the force before she could apply and test for a detective's badge. With the same dedication that she used to finish school and the academy, Danielle set herself to the task.

Her plan momentarily unraveled when her brother was found dead in his apartment, an apparent victim of the same, strange deaths that had piqued Danielle's curiosity. David's death tossed Dani over the edge in grief and when she finally surfaced back to her daily routine, she relentlessly pursued her goal of becoming a detective. Unfortunately, her captain deemed that Danielle was too close to things with her brother's death and he declined her application. Danielle was told to wait a few years to distance herself from the investigations so that she could be properly objective.

Danielle understood the decision, but deep within she burned with vengeance for her brother's killer. On her own time, she flitted around the edges of the ongoing investigations never 'officially' looking into matters but talking with the detectives and getting any and all information that they were willing to divulge. Under the recommendation of the department's psychologist, Danielle enrolled in martial arts with the intent to focus her anger and emotions into something more useful. The discipline that she learned at her dojo has helped keep her fury in check in her daily life, but at night in her dreams, Danielle became fury incarnate as she took out her anger and frustrations on whatever minions her mind dreamed up for her while she slept -- something at which she became very, very good.

It was there, in her dreams, that she attracted the Sentinel's attention.

THEME SONG

Best to start at the 1:04 mark ...

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DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

Height: 5' 8"

Weight/Build: 150# Athletically Fit

Notable features: None

Hair color: Platinum Blonde

Eye color: Steel Grey

Complexion: Lightly Tanned

CORE

Danielle's core is obsidian. Like volcanic glass, durable with razor-sharp edges, Dani has been tempered under extreme heat and pressure of her past and has become a very hardened person, quick to cut others who get too close or find themselves in her way.

SPECIAL ABILITY

Danielle's main special ability is to infuse her skin and hair with the dark, black color of her core and become almost imperceptible in shadows. In this way, she is able to stealthily approach her target, virtually unseen. Secondary to this is her ability to instantly cover a portion of her body in a thin coating of obsidian to reduce the impact of an attack. This assumes that she can see the incoming attack, has the time to react and then she has to focus her concentration on the metamorphosis to the exclusion of any other actions.

WEAPON

Danielle summons a two handed sword when she travels in Etherea. Being made of obsidian, the blade is extremely sturdy and the edge is razor sharp. The obsidian sword is considerably lighter than most iron swords, thus Dani is able to wield it with little effort.

ARMOR

Danielle wears no particular armor; rather, she is dressed in a black, leather bodice that covers a long, dark burgundy shirt. Matching burgundy pants and calf-high, black leather boots complete the ensemble. Dani finds armor to be cumbersome and it interferes with her ability to stealth around in the shadows. She relies on her martial skills and her secondary ability to keep her from fatal injury.
PROMPT: Nature's Calling

Dani stretched as she yawned the vestiges of sleep from her body. The low-ply sheets had been exactly as advertised but they at least served to cover the bed and soak up the sweat from her nightly excursions in dream. With arms dropping in lethargy, Danielle reached up and swept the sweat-soaked hair from her face as a tired but contented smile found its way across her lips.

It had been a good night. Danielle had crossed over into that realm of dreams and not only escaped unscathed, but could chalk up three more nightmares dispatched to wherever it was that dispatched nightmares went. At least those three wouldn't be a threat any longer.

Her dark, brown eyes glanced over and sought the small, digital clock nearby on the night stand. The red LED face stared back at her with numerical eyes: 9:53. At least it was Saturday, she thought. Plenty of time to change the sheets and get a shower before heading out on her weekly visit to David's grave.

Danielle sat up and swung her long legs over the side of the bed. Her feet, seemingly of their own volition, searched around and finally deposited themselves in the fuzzy bunny slippers her brother had jokingly gifted to her last Christmas. With another yawn, she rose and crossed to the window. Two fingers separated the vertical blinds and she squinted as she peered out in the mid-morning sun. The usual bustle was nattering about around her neighborhood: kids playing ball down the street in the cul-de-sac, Mr. O'leary mowing his lawn – again – and two doors down, John Bishop was trying to teach his six-year old son, Joseph, how to catch a baseball with a glove.

They were all ignorant of what Danielle did. Not that she was a police officer – hell, no, they were elated when she had moved in as her cruiser in the driveway was a strong deterrent to criminals who might otherwise try to ply their trade in the neighborhood. No, these happy, fun-loving families had no idea of how Dani spent her nights trying to keep them safe from the nightmares.

But that wasn't the reason for her nightly forays into that realm. Danielle was still grieving for the loss of her family, especially her brother David, and she risked her own spirit and soul in that place to wreak havoc and vengeance in their memory. She had discovered her core and found use for it to not only protect her in her dreams but also to forge a weapon for her retribution. If she had any say in the matter, Dani would stay in the land of ... wherever it was ... and fight them all to her last breath.

Fighting in dream land didn't pay the bills, though, so Danielle grudgingly accepted her real-world fate and sought to fight the enemy on her own turf. It was rare for her to have an actual weekend off of work, and she planned to take full advantage of it.

Danielle showered and dressed for the day, then shoved the bed linens into the wash. She gulped on her second cup of coffee as she headed out to the mailbox, bunny slippers still adorning her feet. The sun radiated affectionately through an azure sky dotted with high, puffy clouds. The west wind that had promised, then reneged on rain the day before still teased through the well cropped oak and crepe myrtle trees that were interspersed across various lawns in the community.

As she retrieved her mail, she spied one of the most beautiful collies she had ever seen. It had a collar, but no leash – a ticket-able offense in the neighborhood. Danielle glanced around for an owner, willing to give the poor man or woman a break today, but saw no one nearby other than an elderly woman who ably hobbled along with a cane, out for a morning stroll.

Danielle lifted her cup in acknowledgement of the septuagenarian, who only scowled back at Dani as she scolded in her aged voice, "You should be ashamed of yourself. Control your stupid animal!"

Stunned, Dani looked back at the gorgeous dog ... who was taking a dump on the sidewalk.

"No, wait," she said to the animal, but it was far too late. Then, she turned to the disapproving old woman, "No, she... er, it's not my dog. Really."

Pentagon · Jan 2, 2016

Richard Baxter

BASICS

30

Gender: Male
Assistant Professor of Military History, Imperial College London

The Apple Knight , Eschatologue

APPEARANCE

6’2”

213lbs.

Notable Features: A few, too few to mention.

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Brown

Skin: Pale, with an uneven tan accumulated incidentally
AMBITION

Apotheosis. The world is flawed, and in dire need of improvement. With his new avenue to power open in his dreams, he has renewed hope to craft utopia with his own hands. He dreams of vanquishing death, of crafting a paradise to match that of the Lord’s with the tools he has been given by his creator, and building humanity’s perfection, in whatever small way he can.

PERSONALITY

Many have said Richard over-thinks things. He would counter that he thinks the correct amount. He is a man who hates the sub-optimal, who wants to make his life and the lives of those around him as perfect as they can be. He is naturally outgoing, and has committed himself to being as likable as he can manage. He is always thirsty for knowledge, information with which to improve himself and act in ways that are slightly less wrong.

He loves to laugh, and joke, and socialize. His smile is rarely absent, his frown almost unheard of. He wants to teach and be taught, to smile and sing and enjoy life. He tries to live life not altruistically but in the most utilitarian method, and takes joy in fulfilling his moral compulsions. He hates being condescended to, and is guilty of condescension himself. He is perhaps too proud for his own good, and is eminently mistrusting of authority or those in positions receiving a general respect of which he is not a part.

He is paranoid, cautious in the unfamiliar, but practiced and hurried in the usual. He loves to explore and discover, to find an old book and digest it at his leisure. He hates inactivity, and is drawn to puzzles and that which has not been solved. He is practical in his interests, rarely bothered with that which has no bearing on his experience. Unfortunately for him, as Richard has grown he has learned that almost any subject is important to his experience in some way.

He is a devout Anglican Christian. He is a devoted husband, though afraid of the responsibility children would bring. He has been more and more distant with each day he has known about the world of dreams, and is guilty that he risks leaving his wife, Emma, behind if he falls afoul of danger in his knighthood. He is, however, extremely committed to his goals, and is ready to sacrifice extraordinary travails to inherit the mysteries of his new, likely final, frontier.

HISTORY

Richard was a model child. He grew up in a suburb of London, and achieved excellent grades. He attended Eton, then Oxford, studying history once his fascination with Physics subsided. He was a talented cricketer, and was relatively popular, if reserved. His parents could not afford graduate school, and so he joined the Royal Marines for four years to earn enough to further his studies. He never saw direct combat, though he received basic training, kicking off his fascination with the firearm and only strengthening the paranoia and perfectionism that was so present in him from birth.

Richard earned his doctorate and found a job as a professor, and a wife, and thought he was prepared to settle down and live a happy, quiet, life. Then he was visited by the Sentinel. He was experimenting with lucid dreaming, out of boredom more than anything else, and a desire for some new experience to explore. He took to it like a duck to water, and found himself wandering worlds of infinite variety and beauty, bending his understanding of the laws of physics. On his third night of wandering, he met the sentinel. He took her offer after careful deliberation. When the path is not clear, gain power, and his loyalty is always easily rescinded. On his fourth night of wandering, he weaseled his way onto a research trip to San Jose, directed by his new commander, keen to experiment and develop his powers within this new world of dreams (after verifying its existence as best he could, of course). His research floundered, all his spare time spent either documenting the wonders he was seeing or developing his abilities of visualization or self-perception, readying himself to face whatever dangers he would have to.

He has been a knight for nearly a year now, and has not regretted the choice for a moment.

THEME SONG

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DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

6’2”

984lbs

A mechanical, masculine, humanoid, of indistinct and ever-changing construction. Intricate lattices of steel, titanium and wiring mesh and blur on his form constantly.

None

Green

Dull Grey to Shining Silver, depending on the time observed.

CORE

Applewood lies at the core of Richard’s persona in the world of dreams, the only part of his body which does not change with his whims or fancies. In the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve were tricked into eating the apple from the Tree of Knowledge, and were cast out of paradise after gaining knowledge and attaining part of Divinity. Richard will harness the knowledge of the Tree and craft a new Eden, and use its power in his persona to channel a speck of the divine which cast his children out eons ago.

SPECIAL ABILITY

The wood of the Tree of Knowledge, applewood, is the materiel of the Lord's power. As such, Richard's core grants him a reflection of God's canonical powers, if only in the most minute amount. Richard can create matter ex nihilo. He has some limited ability to shape the materiel he produces, but cannot form complex shapes without significant time investment. He can modulate the rate at which his substances are produced, but his maximum is determined by the mass of the substance produced. Whatever substance he produces emerges at the temperature of the environment around Richard’s avatar, and after ten minutes, or whenever Richard wishes, any substance created will vanish without a trace. Richard can produce approximately five kilograms of substance per second at maximum. He can only produce it from a radius of 20 centimeters from his hands, or from within his mouth, the velocity of which can be changed by Richard but cannot exceed three meters per second. Richard can, however, create substances that touch his other creations, so long as his hand is resting upon the receiving item. When changing from one type of matter to another, Richard has to wait a brief cool down period, anywhere between 15 seconds to a minute.

His form also grants Baxter increased strength and durability, steel plates and pneumatic actuators out-performing muscles in Richard's dream-persona.

WEAPON

Richard wields the great flaming sword the angel guards Eden with, a medieval longsword (type XVII), wreathed in scalding white flames.

ARMOR

Richard does not adorn his dream-self with clothing, though his exterior occasionally shifts to various patterns in its normal undulations. He has no genitalia or skin to conceal, and finds that clothing simply gets in the way or projects the wrong image.
PROMPT: The Abyss Stares Back

Richard was fairly certain at this point that something was in his bedroom. He knew the claims of humans having a sixth-sense were debunked decades ago, but that did not stop him from feeling the eyes boring into his feet from the pool of shadows cast by the dresser. He had rolled over half an hour ago to glare at the offending pitch-black section of space, and been able to perceive nothing within it. He’d rolled back over, sure that he would stop being foolish and fall asleep shortly. He’d squeezed Emma that little bit tighter, and tried to push the feeling out of his mind.

Half an hour had passed, and sleep still eluded him. He rolled over again, making sure that there was nothing to see. He listened carefully for any evidence of burglars, or murderers, or mice, and found nothing. He tried to convince himself again that there was nothing to fear, but his attempts had lost some of their credibility after the fourth, and the crashing lighting was not helping his nerves. Sighing quietly, and doing his best to not wake Emma, he extricated himself from the tangle of covers, and retrieved the knife he kept at his bedside. The metal was comfortable in his hand, already putting his mind to ease, but if Richard was going to indulge this folly a little he may as well indulge it all the way. Some small, sleep-addled part of his mind reminded him that the sunk-cost fallacy was titled as such for a reason, but it did nothing to stop his quiet stalking to the shadows.

Of course, Richard found nothing. He swung the knife through the shadows, the blade slicing nothing but air. He looked beneath the dresser, and inside of it, and atop it. He scanned the wall for mouse-holes, and searched the adjoining bathroom for any offending spectator.

“Dick? What’re you doing, dear?” His wife called to him groggily, her inquisitive head crowned with a disorder of tangled hair. Richard felt the fool, on his knees as he was peering beneath the dresser for the third time.

He sighed again. “Nothing, my love. I can’t sleep, I’m just retrieving a book. Go back to sleep, there is nothing wrong.” He considered making his wife move, still somehow suspicious that there was some unseen danger haunting their nondescript suburban bedroom. However small the risk might be, Richard wondered if risking his wife’s life was worth it. Richard ran the odds as best he could, and finally decided that he was being an idiot, and would not trouble his wife over baseless suspicions proven pointless.

Emma was already asleep. He stood up and retrieved his light reading from the bedside table. He may know nothing was wrong, but that did not mean he would be able to go back to sleep. Opening the door with as little noise as possible, Richard crept down the stairs and deposited himself in his reading chair. To his frustration, a pool of shadow behind the television felt the same way the other offending darkness had. It would be a long night, after all. Richard opened his book and began to read, eager to pass the time.

He gripped the knife a little tighter, just to be sure. One could never be too careful, after all. John Lynn spoke to him through worn pages, and in the morning Emma Baxter awoke her husband from his uncomfortable sleep in his very comfortable chair.

ViAdvena · Jan 4, 2016

Marianne Ross

Basics

Age: 18

Gender: Female
Occupation: Student (Senior year)

Dream Title: The Ruby Knight, The Puppeteer

Appearance

Height: 5'9" (175 cm)

Weight/Build: 135 lbs (61 kg), both slender and toned with great flexibility thanks to her hobby sport gymnastic.

Notable features: Her very long golden hair which she pretty much proud of. The style depend on the mood and how early she get up that day.

Hair color: Blond

Eye color: Violet

Complexion: Fair, tan easily under the sun
Ambition

The driving force behind Marianne's life is the same driving force that fuel many people; she want to be successful. But everyone's definition of success is different, so what's her definition of it? Well, for Mary it's simple. Success for her mean getting whatever she want anywhere, anytime, without much difficulty or opposition. So what is it that she really wants? She doesn't know it yet. But one thing she is certain, she need to make it so when she finally has something she wants for life, the world will assist her for it.

Personality

Mary gives off an impression of the Fair Folk from old tales; both lovely and alarming. Her violet eyes shine with knowing glint, as if she got a hold of your embarrassing secret, and a faint mischievous smile spread on her face, as if she were planning to do something about it. Of course, you need no worry about it if you meet her for the first time. Not yet.

In daily life, she has an air of casual elegance, dignified yet playful. Some people might even think she is a bit ditzy with her perchance for dramatic flair and exaggerated gesture. But there's always a certain sharpness behind her carefree manner. It's hard to tell what her real intention is, because her words are often ambiguous and tinged with joking tone. She pretty much enjoys confusing the heck out of people with this.

Despite her spotlight-stealing persona, strangely enough she prefers to be behind the scene while doing what she deemed as an important matter. Whispers to the right person, nudges the right group, and whatever she plans or suggests is set into motion without people even know who think of it first. It can be said that she is an inspirer at best, and provoker at worst.

History

It can be said that Mary led a relatively ordinary life. But she is surrounded by extraordinary people. Her family is what people would call political dynasty. From judge to general to congressman, generations of the family has been holding various position of power in the country.

Mary’s parents are no different. Her mother is a diplomat, and her father used to be a senator- until he was killed in an accident nine years ago. The circumstance surrounding the accident was suspicious, that time some media believed it to be an assassination, although it was never proved. Mary was still a child back then, her understanding of the event was hazy. But she remembered her older brother watching the whole event with much sharper eyes, and that time he said to her “Sometimes it’s easier to crush a person than to crush his ideas.”

Now looking back at it, Mary wondered if her father said something to him before the accident.

With the absent of one parent figure and the rare appearance of the other, Mary matured fast. Her parents might not be always with her, but their influence was strong. From watching them she learned, the direct lesson and the indirect one, and from the lesson she practices. Being the second oldest, she also fills the role of looking after her siblings, and this makes her closer to them than many people her ages usually are. There’s her older brother whom she has unspoken rivalry with, her younger brother that she frequently pesters, and her younger sister whom she completely dotes on.

Now she was in her final year, soon to enter college. What does she plan to do during this time? Well…she has several ideas, but being a dream knight sure isn’t one of them. Not that she mind.

Theme Song

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Dreamself Appearance

Height: 5'9"

Weight/Build: 135 lbs. While her build is similar to her Corporea self, her limbs is noticeably longer. Much longer

Notable features: Still hair, except for different reason. It now had been entirely replaced with feathers, covering both her head and her back. They are bright red with scattered peacock pattern in some places.

Hair color: Mostly red, with some yellow and green in several spots

Eye color: Invisible, but presumably the same with Corporea

Complexion: Almost chalky white

Core

Ruby is considered as a stone of nobility, the queen of stones and the stone of kings. This traits resonates greatly with Mary's subconscious desire to rule over her surroundings, directly or not. Ruby also has always been a talisman of passion, protection and prosperity. In Mary this manifests as good instinct when it comes to the safety of the loved ones, and the spirit to act on it. Lastly, ruby symbolizes the sun, and its glowing hue suggests an inextinguishable flame within the stone that legends claim would shine through even the thickest clothing. It reflects her tendencies to stand out, either from her flashy appearance or manner.

Special Ability

Organic Matter Manipulation: She can control any 'organic' matter that she touches, like flesh or the equivalent of it for the resident of Etherea. The control range from changing the shape to directing the movement. The organic matter that falls under control also can spread the influence to materials around it, causing a chain reaction...or perhaps the better term is infection. If the contact were removed, the control disappeared. This power also doesn't seem to work on her fellow dream knights.

Weapon

Mary's weapons are ribbons. Well, at least they look like ribbons, silky red ribbons tied to every finger of her hands, much like strings of a puppeteer. While they have the soft appearance of silk, they also possess the strength and sharpness of a blade. Their length changes to her whim, and they also function as extensions of her infecting touch.

Armor

She clad in a slinky red dress, with black leather armor on top of it. Her helmet is embellished with golden wings symbol and birdskull accessories. The design obscures her eyes from view, although it doesn't impede her sight. All of her fingers are covered in golden finger armors, giving them talon-like appearance. Her ribbons were attached to these armors.
Prompt: Road Rage

Marianne hummed her favorite song as she drove her car into Walmart parking lot, feeling particularly happy. Ah, what a lovely day. The sky was clear, the air was relatively fresh, and someone exited right after she entered the parking lot, leaving one shiny empty parking spot-

And of course some lowlife just had to destroy her perfect mood by being a parking spot-stealer asshole. Well, fuck you too dude, she glared behind her steering wheel. If look could burn, that green SUV would have combusted by now. Mary then took a deep breath and turned around. No point in seething here, she had to look for another spot. But it didn’t mean she would let that driver get away with it, nope, never. Still pissed off, she encircled the parking spot twice, holding the urge to run over the jerkface driver when she saw him again. Too bad murder in Corporea is illegal. And too bad there’s too many witnesses here.

Finally, another car left and this time Mary managed to park her car without being cut by another asshole (if that happened twice she swear she would run over that jerk, criminal or not). But she didn’t immediately get out of her car. With a post-it note and a blue pen from the glove compartment, Mary wrote down a special message for that wonderful, wonderful SUV driver. After that she got out of her car, stealthily put the note on the offender’s car windshield, and continue on her merry way into Walmart.

Later, when Mary finished buying things she needed, she saw the same car drove really, really slow across the parking lot. She was wholly amused by this. Oh dear, he fell for it. It seemed that he wouldn’t drive fast for the time being. Not until he went to car repair shop to get his car fully checked.

What was the note’s content? Well...

Nice car you have there. It’s a shame something happened to it, although you won’t find out what until you drive too fast. Hope your interior isn't too flammable

Did she really do something to the car? Psh, she didn’t need to. Human’s mind does wonder when it comes to thinking the worst possibilities.

welian · Jan 5, 2016

Layla Ward

BASICS

Fourteen

Female
High school student

The Carnelian Knight

APPEARANCE

Height: 5'2", a little shorter than most of her classmates. Those who pretend she’s an armrest get punched in the gut.

Weight/Build: 104lbs, scrawny and flat-chested with long legs. Although she’s jealous of her curvier classmates, she appreciates how far she flies when the school bus goes over a pothole.

Notable features: A tiny scar through her right eyebrow from when her father was teaching her how to ride a bike, and she pedaled way too fast over a broken sidewalk and ended up faceplanting into rocks. A few stitches were involved.

Hair: Plain brown, straight, a bit past shoulder length. It's usually pulled into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. She’d get a cute pixie cut, but enough people have teased her already about her boyish appearance.

Eye: Light brown. She wishes she had blue eyes, like her father. She misses seeing them outside of photos.

Complexion: Pale, but with a strong, residual farmer’s tan from sports. She’s often covered in miscellaneous scrapes, bruises and dirt from said sports.
AMBITION

Every night, Layla dreams of a world where her parents are alive and well, with no violence to take them away. There are no gunshots, no emergency rooms, no uniformed men pushing her out of the way, no hushed conversations where only the adults get to talk. But with every passing day, Layla loses a bit of that hope, and resigns herself to the fact that once her father’s life support is pulled, she’ll be an orphan – no one to see her graduate high school or help her pick out a college. Sure, her parents have friends that help her out, but… it’s not the same. And it won’t ever be the same again.

PERSONALITY

Layla is a boisterous and loud girl, despite her somber life. She’s very eager to grow up, constantly striving to prove to the adults in her life that she is just as, if not more, capable than them.

She’s frequently agitated and impatient, and rushes into situations without fully weighing the consequences. Part of the reason she so frequently ignores instructions and suggestions, is her distrust of authority figures. She despises being made to feel small and childish and helpless, and so she puts on a fiery display of bravado. After all, it’s better to be a leader than a follower.

Although Layla is open about her distrust of adults, she continues to subconsciously seek out their attention; especially those that remind her of her parents. A lot of antics and shenanigans happen this way, usually ending with her getting grounded. They just don't understand what she's capable of!

But maybe all the fireworks are just that, and all Layla will ever be is a bitter and lonely girl without the strength to be in control of her own destiny, instead of being caught in the crossfire of someone else's.

HISTORY

Layla grew up in a normal household, with a loving mother, and a doting father – but she wouldn’t be as grief-stricken if that were the end of her story, now would she? Her father was in the military, an officer. His odd schedule meant that leisure time with him was a random treat. He always assured Layla that he would come home, but as she grew up he spent more and more time working. When he was able to come home, he was always stressed, and deflected any questions about his job.

At the tender age of eleven, while Layla was sitting in class, her mother was murdered and her father disappeared. Thus began the worst month of her life – some of her father’s colleagues picked her up from school that day, and fed her a story of how her father had “gone postal”, and shot her mother in an argument. They took her to live in another city while things settled down, and ignored Layla’s every insistence that there were rules that Daddy had put in place about who to stay with if he ever had to go away for a long time.

When she finally saw her dad again, it was the end of the worst month of her life. With a gunshot, it became the beginning of a new kind of Hell. If you asked Layla, she wouldn’t even be able to tell you quite what happened – too many different people, telling her too many different things, and who to trust, and who not to trust.

But the past few years have been quiet enough. She’s been living with her godfather, the person she was supposed to go live with in the first place – Dr. Hertz, who works at, conveniently enough, the same hospital where her father has been in a coma for three years. No one bothers them, and the only people who visit are her dad’s peanut gallery of friends – his real friends. There’s really just not enough answers for all the questions she still has about her dad’s job, though…

This year, she’s started high school. Her life is already a hell of a lot better, by virtue of not being in middle school any more. She’s still working on the whole “friends” thing, though.

THEME SONG

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DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

Height: 5'6", noticeably taller than her real self.

Weight/Build: 118lbs, also noticeably fuller, than her real self, obviously the aspirations of someone eager to grow up soon.

Notable features: She still has the small scar through her right eyebrow.

Hair: Very long, stark white hair – still pulled into a ponytail.

Eyes: A sinister glowing red, with black sclera. It still frustrates her that they aren’t blue.

Complexion: In the dreamworld, Layla appears to discovered soap and Neosporin.

CORE

Carnelian is a warm, blood-colored stone that inspires courage and leadership in the weak and timid, and eases the pains of sorrow. It boosts confidence and dulls rage and envy. On a spiritual level, carnelian is a proactive gem that discourages passiveness and procrastination, and helps the wearer accept the inevitability of death. In the past, it was used to ensure that the dead would have a safe passage to the afterlife.

SPECIAL ABILITY

Layla’s powers are relatively understated and passive, despite carnelian being a stone of high energy. The paradox infuriates her.

Seal of Courage

Layla can leave behind a special mark that will, for a short time, dispel fear and sadness and bolster courage and confidence to human dreamers in its immediate area. This seal has no affect when directly applied to Ethereans, only to humans.

Blood of the Warrior

The second of her powers, and the more passive of the two, is an effect of her blood. It, disgustingly enough, has healing properties. A drop will cleanse polluted water, or help remove toxins from another person. Yes, this involves drinking blood. Yes, that’s gross. Unlike the Seal of Courage, Layla’s blood can affect Ethereans. Specifically, since carnelian wards against evil influence and dark magic, any malicious or unseemly nightmare or Terror that comes in contact with her blood will find themselves to be slightly… on fire.

WEAPON

Like many Knights, Layla’s weapon is a classic sword and shield combination, a balance of offensive and defensive posturing. However, her sword bears a curious resemblance to a club, as it’s quite broad and has dulled spikes near the hilt. Her shield is white with a golden cross, and a small carnelian set in the center.

ARMOR

Unlike the heavy metal armor of some of her compatriots, Layla wears a much lighter cloth armor, tickly padded and lined with silk. The underdress and leggings are black, with a white outer tunic, white patterns on her boots, and white gauntlets. On her chest is a golden cross with a carnelian set in the center of it, much like her shield – that small stone is part of her core, and successfully fracturing it will banish her as any other Knight..
PROMPT: Nature’s Calling

“Ah, puppy!!” It didn’t matter to Layla that the dog was too large to really be considered a puppy. She fell to her scuffed-up knees, completely enraptured with her new canine friend. She had just gotten off the school bus, but the doctor wouldn’t be home for a few more hours. The mail laid forgotten on the porch steps as the girl swiftly went to meet her new best friend – she’d always wanted a dog.

“Oh my god, dog, really…?” Layla watched helpless, dumbfounded, as her new best friend hunched over and dropped a series of steaming hot, squishy turds on the sidewalk leading up to the house.

“No, you don’t do that! You poop in the grass – the grass, you dumb dog, not the pavement!”

Just then, the crabby old bitch from two doors down, Ms. Williams, piped up. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Control your stupid animal!”

Layla rolled her eyes. It was one then when she called this puppy dumb, but it was another when this witch of a woman decided to, once again, get all up in everyone’s business. Well, the doctor wasn’t going to be home for a while, and she deserved it, so why not?

“Ms. Williams,” Layla said sweetly, “That’s what we all told you about your husband, and now he’s ditched your saggy tits to go to pound-town with his drug dealer. SO SUCK IT. I’LL TRAIN THIS DOG TO PISS ON EVERYTHING YOU OWN!”

Or at least, that’s what she wanted to say. What actually came out was more along the lines of, “I’m so sorry Ms. Williams, it won’t happen again.”

The old woman huffed, and walked away, muttering about disrespectful youth and the shameful state of dog training. Layla stuck her tongue out at the woman’s back, and then back at the dog – the dog now happily chasing his tail, before bouncing off to harass another neighbor.

“Okay,” Layla sighed, defeated. “I’ll go get a baggie.”

Carl · Jan 6, 2016

Mauro Caprioli

BASICS

23 yrs old

Male
N/A (non-licensed Grafitti Artist)

The Juniper Knight

APPEARANCE

183 cm (6 ft) tall

85 kg (187 pounds)

2x 12mm stud-earrings, 1x in each earlobe (black disc-shaped earrings), large headphones hanging around his neck.

Black

Dark hazelbrown

Quite fairskinned, pale hue. Few light and minor freckles on his arms and back. Otherwise no distinguishing marks on his body or face, apart from his accessories.
AMBITION

There are several ambitions and reasons that Mauro could sum up, if asked what was the reason for him to get up out of bed and try to make the most of the day. But in all honesty, none of the ones given would be truthful, as he hasn't really figured out yet what makes him tick. You could say his real ambition and goal in life is ... Finding out just that, what is it he seeks? As silly as it may sound, you could say his current mission in life, al though he doesn't give it as much thought as it sounds, is to find out what he really wants out of this life. Why is he here? Is he one of the countless minor cogs in the gears of life, or is he more than that? Basically, seeking a greater reason and goal in life...Is his reason and goal in life.

PERSONALITY

Mauro usually appears quite carefree, even when bothered by circumstances or situations, he's only 'quick' to show it to people he confides truthfully. He's also quite the family man even though he has disappointed his parents and close family of fairly 'high standing', more than he likes to think about. He's not quick to insult or fight al though he does happen to do so to defend important ones to him or if the need arises, for example is he has to defend someone innocent. Guess you can call him an anti-hero of sorts, he doesn't care much of what random people who are far from his bed, think of him, yet he still tries to do good when he can. A few flaws in his personality are for example: His impulsiv nature, his oh-so-annoying ability to not think of consequences and his major self-realised grievance in his personality is that he tends to retalliate in a much too personal and hurtful manner when people cross the line.

(eg: When an acquaintance pushes his buttons too much, Mauro is quick to snap back with a venomous tongue.)

He doesn't think much of façades, laws that make no sense to him, ... Basically anything that isn't in some way 'validated' to have a just cause or reasoning behind it, will fall on deaf ears with Mauro. Additionally he's quite sceptic and even cynical in some ways, al though he tries to look at things objectively and be as critical to himself as he is with others...It's difficult for him to achieve that state of mind more than sporadically though. He realizes there's much to work on, much to build still. And while he doesn't believe in 'trying is as good as doing', he often catches himself living life in just that way.

Lastly, Mauro loves experiencing new things, new locations and new people. Feeling situations and life grow too stale and uneventful if he doesn't experience the unknown or uncharted frequently enough to satisfy his hunger for it.

HISTORY

Having had a relatively normal childhood, up to the point where he finished high school and started working a part-time job while going to college, things went his way quite often. All changed when one of his collegue-friends spoke about how easy it was to get some extra cash for the holiday season, all you had to do was check up for some 'harmless' medicinale tests to participate in and voilá, money in the pocket.

Unfortunately for Mauro, he had drawn the best test out of the lot apparently, the one where he eventually lost sight of what was real and surreal, or at least that's what he thought. It all started out slow, at first he tested the medicine on a daily basis and after a few weeks in, started to notice he had trouble sleeping. Whenever he closed his eyes and was about to step into lala-land, he somehow found himself dwelling and roaming around darkpurple or darkgreen tinted environments. They alternated between interior surroundings such as corridors or rooms, to forests or urban jungles. As much as they switched from night to night, they always had that dark colouring to them and were extremely realistic in a twisted sense of the word.

Later on that state of surreal being, evolved into seeing and hearing things during the transitioning between awake and asleep. Which of course made actually falling asleep, rather than dwelling in-between, that much harder. And lastly, he could even occasionally experience those things during daydreaming or being lost in thoughts...Basically, he felt like he was losing, or already had, lost his mind. He tried to counte it through going to institutions, taking medicine, trying out meditation and all other things that could potentially 'cure' him. Nothing worked however...

Eventually, after quite a long timespan, and having all but given up hope on ever regaining his sanity. He was at a fare with one of his very few trustworthy friends whom he had shared his state of mind with. There, his mate convinced him to visit this seer of sorts and tell her about what was going on, his reasoning was that it couldn't cause any harm telling it to a stranger who might even be able to help him. And while there was some logic behind it, the thought of an actual oracle, seer or whatever the hell she was, to be amidst a wandering ragtag band of carnies ... Was almost as illogical as all that went on inside his head. Still he found himself in front of her, sitting on the largest cushion he had ever seen and waiting for her to dig out her tarot cards or foggy glass ball to peer into. None of that happened, she simply smoked some herb or plant tucked into a large wooden pipe and closed her eyes...

After minutes of silence, Mauro could swear the woman was asleep, shaking his head and suppressing his anger, he tried to stand up out of the fluffy sinkhole-cushion he was sitting on...When he heard a woman's voice inside his head. 'Oh my, you're one of us...But what a mess, you're lost...So lost. Poor boy...' Mauro nearly remained frozen in a half-upwards, half-crouched position, even after the voice faded and he realized the woman's eyes were back open. She refused to tell him anything except that it would all be revealed, in due time. Still too dazed from what just happened, he let himself be talked out of her tent. When his friend asked what she said, all Mauro could say was that she was in his head. His friend, probably thinking Mauro was having another attack, quickly guided him back to his appartement to try and get some sleep.

When the next day, Mauro tried to find the woman again, none who worked at the carny could give him the time of day or any information whatsoever about her. As insane as his life had been up to then, it all just got alot crazier and now he lived life day by day, waiting for that moment where 'it would all be revealed'.

THEME SONG

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DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

165 cm (5 ft 4) and 70 kg (154 pounds)

Red velvet tophat as shown in the picture and a variety of tattoos, covering most of his body, also shown (partially) in the picture.

Black

A green/gray'ish coloring

Complexion
Very pale.

CORE

Mauro's core is made of the Juniper Tree, which symbolizes the roaring, occasionally seething, flames of heat within him. While he acts carefree most of the time, his core resembles his inner self more so than the façade he wears to calm those around him, and his own self even. Within him flick and twist the flames of passion and desire more than even he realizes. The desire to find his own way in life, the heated passion to obtain the truth and reasons behind his mind's turmoiled state. The flicking flame of his tongue when pushed too far. You could even say his outer shell of being a carefree and relaxed person are linked to his core, as the warmth from flame often tends to calm and soothe those around it, much like cozying up near a fireplace.

SPECIAL ABILITY

Mauro's main ability lies in the production and manipulation of flames conjured by himself or already present in Etherea. By focusing his mind, which can be enhanced by using physical motions of his hands and arms, Mauro is able to command the flames within and outside of him at will. Al though his ability can be disturbed or even completely halted by making him lose focus before or during the time he needs to command the flames, potentially resulting in a hazardous state for those he didn't mean to hurt, around him. His passive ability, directly linked to his main one, is that he's completely immune to heat and fire, within Etherea.

Lastly he has one sub-related ability that he can activate, in the most dire situations, and only under specific circumstances. His inner flame is able to touch other's hearts and minds, who are in the vicinity and by doing so, he's able to obtain an aura that calms and even strengthens the will, motivation and courage of those touched by his warmth. The main pre-requisite for this ability is that he needs to be in a positive state of mind and focus intensely. As one can not warm the hearts of those around one's self, without having a heart and soul that's ablaze with the most intense heat.

WEAPON

A 5 ft metal staff.

ARMOR

A darkred, hoodless, robe and his pictured top hat.

[tab=Prompt]PROMPT: Nature's Calling

Cig in mouth, headphones around his neck blaring the D&B tune of Dj Marky - It's The Way and shirtless to boot...Mauro couldn't appear more trashy if he tried. It didn't help it was early morning and his hair was in complete disarray and face unshaven. The only clean thing about him was the cup of coffee held tightly in both hands to warm him up even if only a bit, during this crisp autumn morning. Walking towards his, unopened for weeks, mailbox to bite the bullet and face the reality-check head on. He mentally prepared himself to face at least a dozen overdue bills and possibly a few 'greeting cards' from the men in blue.

If it wasn't for the birthcard he was expecting from his family, showing off the most adorable baby in the world, he would've let it pile up even further for damn sure. His groggy mind was already overtaxed with worries and grievances when he spotted an old lady walking up in his direction, giving him a quick judgemental glare and tightening her purse as strong as her little liver-spotted arms could manage. For a split second, Mauro could see himself suddenly charging the woman like a rabid dog, just for giggles of course. The thought of it made him smirk and he quickly changed his attention from the sour old prume to the cheerful lill' fellah running up to him.

"Hey there lill' fell...Pissing on my mailbox...Classy." He said to the doggy urinating against his mailbox with the biggest tongue-out-mouth smile he'd ever seen. He couldn't help but laugh at this happy go-lucky dog. Apparently that was the most heineous act the old bat had ever seen 'cause she started throwing a tantrum that the side-kick Kramer from Seinfeld could learn a thing or two from. Even spewing things that were neither here-nor-there, saying the dog was his and that he should be ashamed of himself...Adding in a few, dozen, cusses and basically shouting at him more than a drill sergeant could.

At first Mauro tried to respond in an orderly fashion, inbetween the hag's tirade, as he quickly gave up on waiting his turn in this pleasant convo. As everything he said fell on deaf ears, he just gave up on the mailbox for today and wove the old lady away with a Thank You, Come Again à la Apu Nahasamapamapetillon (?). He was so close to reaching the door and leaving this shitstorm behind him, when the classy lady just had to go and cross the line. She just had to mention that she couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of neanderthals his family must be for him to have ended up like that...

"Look, you crazy old bitch. This - pointing at the dog who was already long gone - dog, is NOT mine. And even IF he WAS. What gives you the RIGHT to judge me, OR my family, the way you just did? If this dog wants to take a piss right here and now, then let him be. Next time I see, and smell, your dearest Frank take a shit in his adult-diaper at the mall; I'll, Act, Just, Like, You. Now fuck off my property."

With that said, Mauro went back inside, set himself another cup of coffee with trembling hands...And shook what just happened all off.

[tab=Dreamself][/tab]

simj26 · Jan 7, 2016

BASICS

24

Female
Street Magician / IT tech support

Zircon Knight

APPEARANCE

165 cm

56 kg / Average build, some curves.

Notable Features: A tattoo of Ouroboros, the snake that devours its own tail, wraps itself around her left arm, near her shoulder, and an intricate tattoo of an eagle flanked by two swathes of laurel wreaths, with the letters SPQR clutched in its flaws, marks her right arm, also at around the same place where Ouroboros is on her left.

Hair: Long, straight, well-conditioned, brown.

Eyes: Dark brown

Complexion: Fair, very much so. Rumored to catch on fire if she so much as gets exposed to sunlight for more than a minute.
AMBITION

The thrill of living and experiencing life is basically what she lives for at this point. She doesn't really care much about actual goals other than the ones she makes at the moment. And to be sure, if she ever puts her mind on pursuing something, the world will fall, because she will get it done, even if it takes everything away.

PERSONALITY

Amelia mostly appears as the stereotypical youth of today: young, inexperienced, lazy and ambitionless. To many of her fellow thieves and street performers, Amelia is described as quite lackadaisical, cheery, and oftentimes flirtatious, especially with the cute ones, even girls. When she isn't enthralling people with cheap sleight of hand tricks or slipping someone's Rolex off their wrist after a handshake, she can be found instead spending her money on junk food and drink, or pawning off her paraphernalia to a fence to buy junk food and drink. She is, however, also said to be quite shrewd, cunning, and sometimes manipulative, disguising her plotting with obfuscating idiocy at times.

On occasions, though, she shows a disturbingly unfettered and chaotic side to her. When having focused her mind on a goal, she pursues it with a single minded and feverishly intense passion, and absolutely disregards all else in her way. Nothing short of crippling her indefinitely will stop her from moving forwards to her goal. Due to this behaviour, she is regarded as an agent of chaos, doing what she wants to rather than following instructions. Anything and anyone in her way, friends and foes alike, will be flung away. This side of her is well hidden and disguised by her playful demeanour. Given by how she smiles so cheerily even when she starts to shove her allies aside to reach her goal, it is getting increasingly hard to tell when she might turn on them just because something struck her fancy. While chaotic, she certainly isn't evil, and has the best of interests at heart. The only issue that many other Knights have or will have is how she goes around getting it done. It’s arguably effective...but at what cost?

Amelia speaks in an indistinguishable mix between New York accent and Received Promounciation, giving her a slightly street, slightly polite tone of voice. Her words are not always too polite, though, as she tends to curse a lot when frustrated or angered. She speaks with immense informality with people she’s close with, and a restricted sense of informality when with people she wouldn't trust as far as she could spit.

She suffers from a slight compulsive kleptomanic disorder. She seems to enjoy stealing things from people purely out of what can be described as 'just because I want to'. She doesn't NEED someone's nail clipper, she just needs to take it. More often than not, she returns these things to her victims, especially if they are somewhat close to her. It has become a rather common practice for them to find that one of their items are missing, and all they have to do is cast her a sideways glance and an unimpressed scowl for her to hand it back to them. However, to any whom she doesn't call a friend or a close acquaintance, it takes reasons like 'it was my mother's ring', 'it's a precious heirloom', or something of that sentimental affect to actually cause her to cave.

HISTORY

People say to break out of the mold, shatter expectations. That sort of saying is pretty cruddy, if you have a family full of experts and people who know a topic well enough to just carry you through your school life, even through university. Her father, Marcus Langdon, was a technician, and so was his brother, and so was their father, and so was their...so on and so forth. There was literally no other point for her to be what other girls wanted to be, like fashionistas and such. From a young age, she was more or less thrown into the world of electronics and mechanical processes. It was also at a young age that she was exposed to ‘magic’, as in the kind that charlatans on streets use to fool the general populace. As a curious and wide-eyed girl, she bothered the magician that performed at the street opposite her father’s office until he finally caved and took her up as a pseudo-apprentice.

During her studies, she would often hang out outside, in the public, holding a pack of cards, or some other ‘magical’ paraphernalia, and offer to perform magic tricks to any person who thought to entertain her. It isn’t known when her minor kleptomania kicked in, but it seemed to be after she started mixing around with a crowd of other magicians. Apparently the sleight of hand was often part of a pickpocket’s trade. She learned fast, and frighteningly so, and over one week, she could make as much as a few hundred dollars from fencing rings and watches from the poor sods she shakes hands with. It later grew to a bit of a mania, and she sometimes can’t help it but to take something of value from a person she has just met, purely out of fun.

After she attained a degree, she went on to intern at a local industry as an IT technician, and later got a full-time job as one. On her off days, she goes back to her group of friends, all tricksters of the trade, to complain about their lives, talk about stupid things, drink, and perform and steal together in a collaborative effort, occasionally.

Her rise to becoming an Etheria Knight came as quite a surprise to her. After all, she was just trying to get a hold of lucid dreaming. Apparently, someone up there, really took a liking to her, and, while she was enjoying her fake cup of tea on the fake verandah of her fake bungalow, whisked her into Etheria, and shoved a good chunk of a gemstone right into her chest. She now holds three jobs, and she isn’t even free to relax in her dreams, and she jokingly laments that she doesn’t even get paid for the third one: an IT technician, a thankless job as is, a pickpocketing thief, which doesn’t usually incite thanking, and now, the newest generation of one of the oldest Knight lineages to exist. It’s really quite fun.

THEME SONG

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DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

Height: 1.71 m

Weight/Build: 63 kg, more slender, and noticeably a bit more curvier.

Notable Features: Her tattoos are in the same place, and are exactly the same in every way.

Hair: Long, straight, straw blonde.

Bright, teal eyes

Fair complexion.

CORE

Zircon

In the writings of the Hindu poets, the leaves of the Kalpavrishka, the tree that grants wishes, are not just adorned with zircon, but made entirely of green zircon. In other names, red zircon was known as Hyacinth or Jacinthe, named after the man Hyacinthus, who drew the ire of Apollo, and was slain for his beauty. His beauty is said to be reflected on the crimson zircon.

Zircon occurs naturally in multiple colors, though heat treatment can be used to change a gem's coloration. Most common of them is from the common brown zircon to the bright blue one. Its uses in the medieval times varied, depending on what color the zircon was, and many testimonies vary. What is exceptionally apparent, however, is that zircon was used generally to clear the air, dispel evil spirits and pain, and chase away nightmares, granting its owner a restful sleep.

A little known fact is that zircon is just slightly radioactive. Not enough to turn people into ghouls or cause health problems, but enough to be detectable. Green zircon is particularly known for its colour and rarity, since its shade comes from radioactive damage to its internal structure.

SPECIAL ABILITY

Aura

The Zircon Knights are quite possibly one of the few most flexible ones in the field, but are also tremendously limited by their exclusively defensive and supportive powers, with perhaps, the exception of the green zircon. Many of the Zircon Knights have the ability to change their core’s colour to a different shade, from the bright blue Starlite, to the crimson Jacinthe. Each of their shades allow them to emanate an area of effect around them. The effect in question depends entirely on the color. The most common, and the ones possessed by Amelia are as follows:

Blue: The default colour that Zircon Knights are often seen with. The blue zircon doesn’t seem to do much except look pretty when exposed. Its actual effect, however, is less noticeable than its other colors. The blue zircon dispels any mental or psychic enchantments or effects placed upon allies within the area, allowing them to see and think clearly once again.

Red: Any of those wounded by their encounter with the Terrors would receive a slow, but effective healing effect when they enter the area of effect around her. It also possesses some anaesthetic capabilities, such as numbing pain. While not particularly effective when in combat, it certainly does a good job as a post-encounter patch-up.

Orange: The Zircon Knight emanates an impenetrable wall that disallows both entry and exit around her. The wall moves with the Knight, and can push Terrors and other Knights out of the way. The wall only bends when it comes to anything solidly planted down, such as walls or other anything larger than its circumference. This particular effect is said to be boosted in the presence of a Gold Knight.

White/Colourless: Though it strongly resembles the Diamond Knight’s core, it doesn’t have the same effect that the Diamond Knight has. As a matter of fact, it has no actual strong effects, and sort of exists for some reason.

Green: The only ‘offensive’ shade amongst the whole collection. When using this shade, the Zircon Knight creates a thick, toxic-green aura around them that burns away at their aggressors’ skin and flesh. In a strange way of averting their original intended use, this aura can also affect their allies, which is curious, since most of their other colours are distinctly one-sided.

WEAPON

Amelia wields a set of playing cards that she seems to pull out of her hat. Though telekinesis is not part of her powers, her cards flow around her in varying formations, and are said to be as tough as the weapons of the other Knights.

ARMOR

Amelia’s dreamform wears neither armor nor robes, but a rather fetching white suit with a teal vest, complete with pure white dress pants and shoes. This set is completed with the addition of a white top hat. The ring that keeps her ascot in place, as well as the inner lining of her coat possess the shape of what she thinks is an albatross.
PROMPT: Road Rage

There had been lots of persuasion and begging involved, but after several minutes of both in equal measure, Amelia finally relented. It must be said that Amelia wasn't the kind to go out and buy groceries. She was the kind that lived off Chinese take-away lo mien and instant ramen, and that was pretty much her regular diet. However, after some desperate pleas made by Keith, who, to this day, somewhat regrets that he thinks of Amelia as a close friend, she deigned to go with him...as long as she called the radio. Shotgun always called radio. So, much to Keith’s eardrums’ despair, most of the trip to the nearby Walmart was mostly filled with bad renditions of 4 Non Blondes’ most notorious song, horrible takes on A-ha’s most well-known song, and particularly horrible attempts at beatboxing. Such were the joys of friendship.

The joys of friendship also included clapping your friend, who’s driving, on the back excitedly to the point where it stopped stinging when you spot an empty space in the crowded lot. It also included cursing and yelling profanities of every colour and kind when a green SUV slides out from the other lane, into the one-way that you and your friend are speeding down on, just barely clips your pal’s fender, and smoothly places his car in the space that you had every right to.

“Christ, Amy, calm down!” At this point, Keith was more afraid of her thrashing his car’s interior than he was of her doing something stupid.

“Balls to that. What kinda fuck does this kind of shit?” Amelia slammed her hand on the dashboard, forgetting for one moment that firstly, she was a pickpocket and a thief, an occupation that wasn't too honorable in their trade, and secondly, that this was America, land of freedom and bald eagles. Which coincidentally, was what the driver of the green SUV looked like. Bald, and having a hooked nose that looked like a beak. However, the only thing that gave away the fact that he wasn't an eagle was that he was holding a phone up to his ear and talking really, really pretentiously and obnoxiously into it.

Her brain chugged into full gear, and she sat up straight on her seat, taking in the man’s entire being into consideration. A TAG Heuer watch adorned his left wrist, and the latest iPhone that he was chatting into was held in his right hand, and his right rear pocket bulged from the fat wallet that he kept in it. A right-hander. The plan clicked together in her mind, and she reached for her door’s lock, shoving her handbag into Keith’s arms with a dismissive “Stay in the car, Keith.”. Amidst protests from her friend, she opened the door, and stepped outside, pulling her jacket’s hood over her head. She cast one glance around her, and nodded satisfactorily. Cameras tended to make problems for thieves and the like, but only if their faces and general features were visible. Fortunately for her, Keith’s rundown Bentley was in a small blind spot in the entire complex. Time to get to work. She grinned to herself, and strode towards the owner of the green SUV.

“Oy! Pissbrains! Ya fuckin’ knob! Who do you think you are, parkin’ like that, huh? You pickin’ a fight?” She called out, and she called out loudly.

As it turns out, he might’ve. The man wheeled around to meet her eyes, and for a moment, confusion reigned his features, before it turned to anger. Marching towards her, he demanded an apology. She gave him one, behind a right hook to his face. Now, the problem here is that, Amelia wasn’t a fighter. Built like the regular girl next door, she couldn’t even make him turn his cheek halfway to the right. He, at 6 feet, and built like a Sherman tank, however, could make literal mincemeat out of her. His first punch missed her- the elusive magician ducked under his arm as it swung, but his second struck her gut. She stumbled, clutching at her stomach, gave a look of panic, and staggered, half-running, half-limping, before collapsing to her knees by the Bentley. The dick didn’t so much as give her a second glance, before he strode off to Walmart, huffing into his phone.

Amelia flipped back her hood, and turned around, making sure that the man had really left, before she straightened up and brushed herself down. The first thing in the trade of thievery and deceit, was to know how to roll with the punches. Literally. The next thing in the trade was much more obvious. She opened up her fist, that had been closed throughout the whole 5 seconds of a fight, if one can even call it that, and let the key to the SUV dangle in front of Keith’s eyes, as she opened the car door and slid into her seat. Still smiling like a loon, she detached the key from its unlocking remote control, rolled down the window, and flung the remote control onto the pavement, just ahead of the rear tire of Keith’s Bentley. As for the key, she pitched it across the carpark, and rolled up the windows.

“Well, we waiting for him to come out to see us running his car keys over? Let’s get going. There’s other better places to be.” She patted Keith’s back, and reclined on her seat, just as the tunes of Wham!’s Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go started to pour out the radio.

Phaesaris · Jan 7, 2016

Joan Betalléon

BASICS

Age: 28

Gender: Female
Occupation: Ex-Cop; Underground boxer

Dream Title: The Holly Knight

APPEARANCE

Height: 5'9"

Weight/Build: 159lbs/Years of training have attributed to Joan developing lean muscles and a lithe frame.

Notable Features: Joan sports a long, thin scar over her left cheek—a result of a nasty boxing match going wrong. Several other scars line her abdomen and arms, with the most notable being a vaguely bullet-shaped one on her upper torso.

Hair Color: Dark brown

Eye Color: Dark brown

Complexion: Brown
AMBITION

There is no room for weakness in Joan's eyes. You either get trampled in this hell of a world, or rise to become the strongest. She's determined to be the best, both as a boxer and a Knight, no matter the cost.

Other than that, she highly values the safety of other more than she cares about herself. She'll do anything to keep those closed to her safe.

PERSONALITY

Once confident and proud, the former cop has taken on a more cynical outlook in life. She's cold and blunt, utterly lost when dealing with emotions. Instead she's a girl of action, finding comfort in doing rather than saying. Joan is quick to anger and slow to appease. She's determined to get a job done, no matter the costs. Whenever there's a situation, she's quick to take charge and assess the factors. Despite her distant attitude, she's quite caring about those close to her. Protective to the core, she values the lives of other's more than herself.

HISTORY

Joan was born in the small town of Houx, Louisiana to a Korean mother and a black father. Growing up, she had a close relationship with her twin brother, Micheal, and was frequently the one to keep him from causing trouble. Due to living in the south with a mixed heritage, racism and bullying were very much pravalent in their childhood. Joan was more often than not the one to protect and defend her sibling from the brunt of these attacks.

Upon graduating college, Joan went to school to become a police officer. She excelled in her classes, determination pushing her on. Meanwhile, Micheal went onto a darker path in life, becoming involved with drugs and crime. Joan frequently voiced her disapproval at his choices, yet turned a blind eye in fear of him getting arrested. Fights frequently broke out between the two, ending only when Micheal disappeared and cut all communication with his family.

Despite this, Joan continued to pursue a career of becoming an officer. Though young, she quickly rose to the top and became one of the best officers on the force. It seemed like life was going to turn out okay.

For a while.

Everything changed when Joan was assigned to investigate a suspected drug dealer's home. The investigation was going well—until she saw who the suspect was. It was none other than Micheal Betalléon, her very own brother. And he wasn't going to go without a fight. As soon as Micheal saw the police, he opened drew his own gun and opened fire. He managed to hit several officers before attempting to escape in the nearby woods. Joan pursued, her nagging fear of confronting her brother growing with every moment. She managed to corner Micheal, though was reluctant to shoot. He, however, held no such hesitance. He shot muliple times at Joan, managing to hit her before she took cover behind a tree. The shootout was over when Joan mustered the courage to shoot Micheal and hit him in chest.

All injured were rushed to the hospital. All the officers, including Joan, survived. But Micheal was dead on arrival.

Filled with guilt and shame, Joan resigned from the PD. She retreated to her apartment, slowly sinking into depression as the weeks wore on. Bills stacked up to the point where Joan was on the edge of eviction. Financial relief came in the form of underground boxing. It was bloody and not always legal, but it got food on the table. And there was always a certain rush of forgetting who or what she had done.

THEME SONG

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DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

Height: 6'11"

Weight/Build: 228lbs/Joan is taller than her earthen form, with more muscles and a leaner physique similar to that of a hardened soldier's.

Notable Features: Spikes run up and down Joan's back, arms, legs, and even head. A hood-like shape rests atop her head, but it is unknown if it is a curious piece of armor or simply the shape of her head. Scarlet markings cross her body, all of them meeting near her stomach area.

Hair color: Not Any

Eye color: Not Any

Complexion: White as snow, with blood red markings. Her skin is smooth yet tough, her flesh hardening at the points.

CORE

Holly

The holly plant is a symbol of both protection and battle. Often times it was planted outside homes to protect from lightning strikes, or be placed before windows to keep away evil spirits. Some even claimed holly berries, if infused correctly, could drove away poison. The spiky leaves were often associated with the weapons of battle, and the wood was even used go craft the shafts of spears.

It is said that the crown placed on Jesus' head at his crucifixion was constructed of holly. His blood fell onto the once pure white berries, staining them red. Because of this, as well as the holly's primary association with winter, the plant is a symbol of sacrifice and suffering.

SPECIAL ABILITY

An incredibly strong forcefield is able to form around Joan and her allies, defending them from harm. If anyone, friend or foe, comes within a foot of the shield, they will be met with invisible weapons trying to strike them down. While useful, this ability comes with consequences. It inflicts great pain upon Joan upon its usage, especially if the shield is large and used for an extended time period. It can be quite draining and often leaves Joan on the verge of collapsing.

The belief that holly can protect households from lightning strikes has carried onto Joan's powers. She's immune to electricity, sparks harmlessly bouncing off her skin.

WEAPON

The Ogham rune for the holly tree, Tinne, is literally translated into "I am a battle-waging spear". With that said, it is unsurprising that Joan's weapon is in the form of a scarlet spear. Seven feet long and composed of an unknown material, it splits in the middle before joining up again at a razor sharp point.

ARMOR

Considering the fact that three foot long spikes stick out from Joan's back, its pretty impossible for her to wear armor. Or any type of clothes, really. Instead, her protection derives from her tough skin and her hard spines.
PROMPT: Road Rage

Stay calm. There was an SUV in her spot. Some idiot had just veered right in front of her stolen her spot. Don't do anything rash.

Joan closed her eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. Calm thoughts. Think of a gentle ocean breeze, not strangling the sorry asshole who had the nerve to steal the only place in this godforsaken parking lot with no commin sense that slimey son of a—

"Stay. Calm." Joan forcefully whispered the mantra throuh clenched teeth. Opening her eyes she saw the man carelessly step out of his car. He was yapping away on his phone, totally oblivious to how much Joan was tempted to slam into him. He was close. So close. Close enough to run over. He isn't worth it, she silently snapped at herself. Just find a different spot.

The young woman exhaled her bitter anger. The lot was jam packed, but a possible opening wasn't impossible. She slowly rolled her car forward away from the stolen spot and drove around, wary of passing pedestrians. Her anger was beginning to fade, though her annoyance remained. It was just a one time thing. The man was an idiot, yes, but at least he wasn't going to bother her anymo—

"Jesus!"

Joan let out a stream of swears, eyes widening as one of the passerbys stopped right in front of her. Her words grew more profuse as the familarity of the passerby became clear. It was him. The parking spot theif. Still he was talking, practically yelling, into his phone at an obnoxious volume. He took no notice of the cars that attempted to drive by, or that he was number one on Joan's list of people to run over. Perhaps he didn't care. Either way, Joan was about three feet away from painting a pretty red stain on the ground with a certain someone. Joan slammed her fist into her wheel, earning an annoyed glance from the man as his conversation was interrupted by a loud honk. He made a gesture along the lines of "Do you mind?". Joan was tempted to return the gesture by showing him her favorite finger. Instead, she took a deep breath, desperately trying to contain her anger. Do not run him over. Do not run him over. Do not—

Wait, was he seriously continuing his call?

"Fuck it," Joan growled. Her car sped forward. The man gave a shout of alarm as the grey car nearly slammed into him and jumped out of the way in time. No doubt this was going to bite Joan in the ass later. She smirked as she glanced at the man in the rearview mirror, biting back a laugh as he jumped and cursed in her direction. For now though, that felt good.

Semblance · Jan 8, 2016

Vincent Araceli

BASICS

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Nicknames: Vincent, Vince, Vin
Occupation: Financial Analyst

Dream Title: The Onyx Knight, The Invisi-Blade

APPEARANCE

Height: 6'0"

Weight/Build: 164lb- Lean, toned, and somewhat muscular

Notable features: Scar along his upper abdomen due to a skateboarding incident when he was young

Tattoo of a compass in between his shoulder blades

Hair color: Dark brown

Eye color: Piercing pale blue

Complexion: Light tan- Slightly tanner than average
AMBITION

Although he is currently trapped in the field of Finance at his mother's company, he hopes to become a traveling journalist someday, even if it is only for a couple of years. Vincent hopes to travel the world, explore new places, and experience all the different kinds of culture. However, because his mother's death wish was for him to succeed her company when he is ready, he is obligated to stay on this career path. He always tells himself that his mother would understand if he quit and pursued his own dreams, but he has yet to follow through.

PERSONALITY

Vincent is very bold, practical, direct, and perceptive. Filled with energy and curiosity, he is very open-minded and loves trying new things. Often following his heart rather than his mind, he lives in the moment and tends to act impulsively. His intuitive attention to detail helps him notice when things change, or when things need to change. Small shifts in habits and appearances stick out to him, and he uses these observations to help create connections with others. Straightforward and upfront with his thoughts, Vince is not afraid of confrontation and prefers to communicate clearly with others. He will stand up for what he believes in and voice his opinions regardless of the consequences.

However, Vincent can sometimes be insensitive, as feelings and emotions generally come second to facts and tangible results. Emotion-filled situations can be awkward, uncomfortable affairs, and his blunt honesty doesn't help here. As a result, he sometimes finds it difficult to acknowledge and express his own feelings. Furthermore, he is rather impatient and unstructured. He likes to move at his own pace to keep himself excited and often seizes the moment whenever he sees an opportunity, often ignoring rules or social expectations in the process. He hates rigid rules or anything that makes him feel trapped or confined, including his office job.

HISTORY

Vincent was born into a wealthy family with a loving mother. His biological father, however, was never in the picture, as he was conceived out of wedlock. A one night stand, to be exact. However, this was never a big issue, as he and his mother fared quite well on their own, but he has always harbored a deep-seated resentment towards the father who abandoned his mother. When his mother succeeded her family's financial company, the sudden influx of cash quickly removed any financial burdens they may have had.

When Vincent was still a child, his mother began dating a coworker, and the couple became head over heels for each other. He was a kind, gentle, hardworking man, the complete opposite of his biological father. A couple years later, when Vince was 7, they were happily married. His mother's new husband was a loving yet stern father, always helping him with his homework, playing soccer with him, and surprising him with presents. He indeed treated and loved Vin like his very own son.

Six happy years had passed when Vincent's mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. This caused a huge emotional strain on the family, as they were often spending most of their days at the hospital. After two hard-fought years, when he was 15, his mother passed away in the hospital bed. During her last, weaker days, she told Vince that she wanted him to succeed the family's company when he's ready. Although he was only a teenager, he knew that Finance was not the path he wanted to take, but he could never object to his mother's death wish.

Vincent has recently graduated from a local university with a double major in Finance and Journalism. He is working at his mother's company, Araceli Inc., as a Financial Analyst in order to fulfill her wishes. Because he is far from ready to take over the company, his stepfather is currently the CEO. However, Vince could not hate his job more, as this monotonous lifestyle is certainly not suited for his bold, spontaneous personality. Although he is often discouraged, he has not given up on his dreams to become a traveling journalist and pursue his love for writing whilst still exploring the world.

THEME SONG

U2 - Stuck In A Moment You Can't Get Out Of

[media]

[/media]
DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

Height: 6'2"

Weight/Build: 178lb- Vincent looks similar to his real self, save for the fact that he is much more muscular and slightly taller as his dream self.

Hair color: Dark brown

Eye color: Piercing pale blue

Complexion: Tan

Notable features: Multiple scars along his sides

CORE

Vincent's Core is composed of Onyx, a mainly black stone with various bands. It is said that Onyx has the ability to raise one's resistance and persistence, enabling one to carry even unimaginable tasks to completion by preventing the depletion of personal energy. It can also be used for protection from and elimination of unwanted energies. In addition, it is said that black stones have protective energies in the sense that black is the absence of light, and therefore, can be used to create invisibility.

Perhaps the Onyx chose Vincent because it could sense his energy and spirit slowly being drained away by the dull, rigid lifestyle of his financial job. After all, Vince continues to remain steadfast in his career obligations while also hoping to pursue his real dreams of becoming a traveling journalist.

SPECIAL ABILITY

Invisibility- Vincent is able to become undetectable to the eye for a brief period of time. During this time, however, he is still able to be perceived by the other senses.

[Passive] Energy Resistance- He is highly resistant to attacks involving energy. He is able to withstand various forms of energy, concussive, or heat-based attacks.

[Passive] Enhanced Stamina- He naturally has the power to function for longer periods of time without tiring or straining himself. Even if he is being attacked, he will not feel his energy being drained.

WEAPON

Vincent's main weapon is a sharp blade attached to his armor on his left arm that protrudes out like a knife. He also wields a sharp dagger with a long, silver handle. Because both of his weapons are close-ranged, Vince relies on his stealth and agility during combat to surprise and out-speed his opponent.

ARMOR

Vincent is clad in a sleek, silver armor that covers most of his body save for his biceps. Attached to his forearms is a metal wrapping used for stability when attacking, especially his left arm, which is attached to the sharp, protruding blade. Furthermore, he wears a cape with a black hood and several long strips of cloth with sharp arrowheads attached to the ends.
PROMPT: Road Rage

"Thank god you get to leave early on Friday's," Lucas said, turning up the electronic music they were playing until they could feel the vibrating bass.

"I know. I couldn't have lasted another minute in that fucking cubicle," Vincent agreed as he lowered the windows of his car. "Especially with my new boss. He's even more of an asshole than the last one," he complained, extending his left arm out of the window to feel the warm, California wind while still keeping his right hand on the wheel. He let the ocean breeze circulate into the car and reveled in the feeling of the sunlight on his tan skin.

"Dude I don't know why you're still there. Just quit already," his best friend said, sipping through the straw of a styrofoam cup filled with Coca Cola they had picked up along the way.

Vincent's piercing blue eyes directed their gaze onto his friend and he let out a deep sigh. "I wish, man," he replied before turning his attention back onto the road.

"It's because of your mother, isn't it? Look, I know you want to respect the dead and everything, but I'm sure she would understand," Lucas added, continuing to drink his Coke.

Vince kept his mouth shut, as he didn't trust himself to not say anything disrespectful. He had been wrestling over this issue for the past year, especially since he graduated college. He wanted nothing more than to pursue his dreams of becoming a traveling journalist, but he had made a promise to his mother when she was on her death bed to take over the family company when he was ready. Little did he know, as a 15-year old boy, that he completely despised finance and the business world, as well as the cocky businessmen that came with it.

The familiar view of Walmart came into sight as Vincent turned into the parking lot, keeping his eyes peeled for a spot. His sharp gaze spotted a single open spot right in front of the store and he headed in that direction. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a green SUV cut right in front of him, nearly taking his fender off, and parked abruptly in that same spot. "What the fuck!" he angrily exclaimed. The driver had clearly been talking on his cell phone, and thus, completely disregarded the fact that Vince was gunning for the same spot.

"Fucking dick," Lucas spat, glaring angrily at the green SUV and its driver.

Sighing, Vincent had no choice but to begin circling the parking lot, looking for another open spot. As he neared the back, he saw that same SUV driver making his way across a crosswalk, still talking on the phone and completely oblivious to what he had done. "Dude look. It's him." He pointed the man out to his friend and subconsciously began driving towards the pedestrian walk.

The driver was clad in a white dress shirt and a fancy tie, clearly having just gotten off work. Something boiled inside of Vincent. The businessman reminded him of all the egotistical assholes in his workplace. He had dealt with many similar arrogant cocks before, but this guy ticked him off even more for some reason. Perhaps it was the unusual familiarity of this man.

"Give me your Coke," Vincent demanded, snatching his friend's styrofoam cup from his hand without waiting for an answer.

"What are you-" Lucas' question was cut off as his friend grabbed his drink abruptly. "Don't tell me you're about to do what I think you're doing," he warned, and yet his voice was filled with a childish excitement.

Vincent took the plastic lid off and was pleased to find that it was still halfway filled with the black soda. Coca Cola in his left hand and steering wheel in his right, Vince floored the accelerator and headed straight for the crosswalk where the man had just begun to cross. As he drove past the businessman, he threw the half-empty soda cup right onto the man's white dress shirt. Without waiting for a reaction, he sped towards the exit of the parking lot. Vincent looked into his rearview mirror and saw the man angrily flipping him off and no doubt yelling a string of curses.

However, he suddenly realized why the driver had seemed so familiar now that he had gotten a proper look at the man's face. The SUV driver was his new boss. A smirk appeared on Vincent's face. Going to work on Monday was going to be real interesting.

DemonKitten · Jan 10, 2016

Faline Diggory

BASICS

18

Female
Model (All types)

The Knight of Desert Rose, Shapeless Knight

APPEARANCE

Height: 5”6

Weight/Build: 100lbs. She has a rather petite body with slender arms and legs. She does have muscles, but mainly in her legs.

Notable features: Her skin is rather flawless except for a birthmark that is on the right side of her hip bone.
Hair: Soft black hair that is similar to that of a rabbit’s fur. It is in a pixie cut due to her chopping it off in disgust of herself.

Eye: Almost Black, Brown eyes. The only normal thing about her and the one thing she loves about herself.

Complexion: Light, beige. Her skin is a little darker than most of her background.
AMBITION

The Perfect world would be one that didn’t strive for perfect. Faline doesn’t have much of a drive for anything, but her freedom. Every day, she is stuck in a day dream of what life would be like if she wasn’t who she is or what she is. Dragging herself through every catcall, whisper, and nasty look, she reminds herself that there is a better world, the one inside her mind.

PERSONALITY

A sweet smile graces her face, but her eyes hold the same glassed over gaze. Faline is a distant woman that gives off an image of a china doll that needs to be locked away, but in truth she hates them all. She is more like the cursed doll that plots revenge, but is held back by “society” and stands down.

Faline only matches her appearance when she is looking at her rooftop of felines. She as an adoration for animals and holds a genuine caring for them. If you are not a critter then she puts up a hard mask and rarely speaks, because if she did it would merely be venom on her tongue.

Even though she is quite hateful, she is not bitter and is actually quite content to returning to her little broken apartment. She is also not much into the “material” lifestyle and prefers plan and simple things. Faline makes a lot of money, but she rarely uses it on herself and prefers to fill her house with things for her lovely pets as well as comfortable places for her to rest along with them.

If anything, Faline is quite composed and has great self-control since she is able to go through life never once breaking her exterior no matter how much she wants to. You might say, she is quite cat-like herself in the way she carriers herself. Beautiful to look at, but dangerous beneath the surface.

HISTORY

Faline was abandoned by her mother at the age of five due to her no longer being able to take care of them both. This was the first dip of poison in Faline’s heart. Faline was actually originally called somethings else, but due to the remembrance of where she came from she tossed that name aside.

Not wanting to depend on anyone else and lose them, Faline lived on her own for about three years before a man found her. Commenting on how perfect she was even for a street rat, he brought her home with him to a house of luxury. He trained her to be the perfect model and lavished her with gifts. Sadly, the perfect looking world was just a ruse as the man was quite abusive in many heart breaking ways. Faline was trapped in this world for quite some time until the man was arrested and she was set free at the age of 14.

Faline was broke and breaking down, but her doll like features brought her back into a world of peering eyes that the man had trained her in. Not knowing any other way, she returned to selling her body for on lookers to lavish. Disgusted by this world, she resorted to her dreams and hid away in a little broken apartment building in the “penthouse” room in which she had roof access.

At the age of 18, Faline is still trapped inside her own miserable existence as she allows men and woman alike to use her for their own desires. She holds her dignity in the fact that they will never truly own her mind.

THEME SONG

[media]

[/media]
DREAMSELF APPEARANCE

Height: No set height.

Weight/Build: She is weightless and build less

Notable features: She is a figure that can make herself appear in any way she wants.

Hair color: Whatever she feels like, but in smoke form usually white.

Eye color: Blue, green, violet, she can make it all happen, but in smoke form they are empty and clear.

Complexion: Normally, in smoke form, she has a clear complexion or see through.

CORE

Desert Rose: ALL THINGS POSSIBLE

The Desert Rose symbolizes all things that are possible, they are said to be carved by the spirits of the American Indians. They enhance love and teamwork, they tell you to go for your dreams without restraint and help to dissolve self-imposed restrictions and programs holding you back. Desert Roses can be used to strengthen affirmation of purpose in your life.

Faline lives a live where she is always being restricted because of her human body. This causes her to lack the ability to love herself or others due to her constant being put into a small box to be admired. This core gives her strength to be who she wants and allows her to see people in a different light. Her core is the center of which she forms causing her to be very vulnerable even though her powers can make all sorts of things

SPECIAL ABILITY

Body Manipulation of Self

She is able to form her body into any shape, colors, and appearance that she desires with just a mere thought. She prefers her more formless forms, but can even turn into a clone of another person. If she is in a formed body, she is unable to create things around her.

Something out of Nothing

Her mind is a powerful thing and due to her years of living most her life in a day dream she now has complete control over the dream world. In doing so, she can create anything she imagines. She cannot create something inside of another creature, change a creature, or alter anything that is already there. She can only create her own designs or cause things to be put on other designs. She is only able to do this as long as she is in her formless body.

WEAPON

She uses a blade that can form into any type of weapon that she thinks of. It is, at first, in a smoke form, but as it is instructed it will solidify into a certain shape. This is the only item that she can change its form without being in her formless shape.

ARMOR

Faline is usually in a formless figure so she has no need for armor. If she does take shape, she covers her body in head to toe with thick, grey armor since she does not like being given a face.
PROMPT: [The Abyss Stares Back at you]

The light purring of Cossette sooths Faline as she brushes her long, slender fingers across her moonlit fur. Across from her bed the light from her roof top windows illuminated the apartment giving beauty to everything it touched. A great clash of thunder shakes the already crumbling abode and causes Cossette to unsheathe her claws before leaping out of Faline’s lap. The doll like girl hisses as her bare leg is scratched leaving a red whelp, but her attention is diverted as ran pounds on her windows. The branches from giant oak trees try to claw their way into the dry residents, but fails to even leave a mark.

Lightning flashes and she hears the familiar hiss of Remy down the hall as the sudden reveal of himself was too shocking to handle. Faline gives a light, genuine smile before noticing the shadows looming above and around her almost as if it was trying to grasp her in a not so friendly embrace. Not really superstitious, Faline couldn’t help but inch away and attempt to call one of her precious companions to protect her from their new company.

Sirens go off, but Faline is too busy edging farther off the bed to pay mind to the dangers of the city. The shadows seem to have grown a face and two holes of light appear like eyes watching the delicate woman back away. As she got Farther, the eyes got closer... Farther. Closer. Farther. THUMP! Faline tumbled of the bed and the Nanuk Yowled as she fell on his tail. The whole moment shocked Faline out of her moment of fear as she started to scurry from the floor. Getting her footing back to a point, she stumbled to the large window grabbing for a purple string.

Faline glanced back at the shadow that now seemed to be smiling at the girl as if this was exactly what it wanted from her. Not thinking too hard on it, she tugged at the string and the curtains fell. Blackness consumed the room and silence became eerie. “I’ve returned Faline,” a voice whispered as the lightning flashed revealing the face of her adoptive father. Faline screamed as he grabbed her mouth. His finger went in her mouth and she bit down... Hard.

“MRROWWW!” Faline jumped up spitting a cat’s tail out of her mouth as the poor cat darted off to heal its injured heart. “A dream?” The petite beauty brushed her bangs from her sweaty forehead as her brows caved in confusion. “No, a nightmare, but...” she thought for only a moment recalling the last time she had been in a nightmare. “It’s been so long…” Faline clung to herself as the rain pounded on her window just like in her dream and for once she was afraid.

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