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Name: Pluto (Close observers may note that this is obviously not his real name.)
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Age: Mid 30’s
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Gender: Male
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Faceclaim and/or physical description:
A large and fit man in life, Pluto has not slimmed down any in death. Trying to keep well groomed, well spoken, and well dressed, it is nonetheless clear that the man has not kept up with the times. Or rather, he’s kept up with all times simultaneously. Some days he might be out in a suit from the 1920’s while adorned with a tricorn hat and aviators, on others he might be in Air Jordan’s and military dress. All of it clearly meant to be expensive and high end, but also giving a sense that he wears what he wants to, at least at this point in his afterlife.
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Weapon: A simple unadorned cruciform sword. Unremarkable in appearance aside from the fact that it comes to no point, instead simply ending in a flat surface nearly three feet from the hilt. Those who have been on jobs with him know that he is reluctant to draw it, except to unmake a spirit with a final blow.
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First Job:
He had always been a fit man- his father had demanded that of all of his children- but “Pluto” (A name he hoped would sound less foreign to him in time, even if it was one he had chosen.) still marveled at the ease with which he navigated the streets of London, chasing the wisp that had become the target of his first job.
Reaper was what he was called now, a grim title if informal, though he supposed in time he would get used to that too. What he was finding it harder to get used to was the city itself. He had lived in London for some time as a youth, and yet the city was almost unrecognizable to him. It seemed that change came startlingly quickly these days, and he wondered if he would ever be able to keep up with the times now that his home lay in Decibitus.
Aux armes… Aux armes…He mentally repeated, even as he spoke the words in Vertan. Each phrase was timed with the steps of his march, and Pluto’s pace all at once flowed from brisk to absurd as he closed on the wisp. It was a pitiful thing, nearly formless, and crying out in a language that he could not understand- one that perhaps nobody could understand. It had been detected early, long before it could feed and grow into an actual problem. This would not be a glorious battle nor a test of his skills, it was no better than an execution.
“I am sorry my friend, I know how this is going to feel.”
Was it wrong to feel pity for the wisp? Perhaps it deserved to be viewed with dignity and respect in honor of the person it used to be, rather than pity. Pluto could not help but be filled with the latter though as he drew his blade- flinching at the tingling in his neck that always accompanied such an action- and cut through the wisp after a final great stride.
Maybe it would get easier over time.
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Magic Branch: Physique
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MagicCoup de Grâce: If one were to turn his gloves inside out, they would see this spell written on the inside. Its effect is simple: Magnifying the strength of a single punch to, theoretically, the maximum conceptual extent of what a punch can achieve. The most threatening wisps are rarely able to be taken down with a single blow, and this spell is no exception to that, but Pluto can be confident that should the need to use it arise that it will at least cause
some damage to whatever it connects it. Its tendency to also cause collateral damage and draw a lot of unwanted attention from outsiders on Earth means that he is particularly reluctant to use it in urban areas.
Atlas: A written spell physically tattooed onto Pluto’s body (And one he is also reluctant to use as a result, being a pain to reapply) it magnifies his already enhanced physical attributes greatly. Mostly focused on providing a sustained period of enhanced strength rather than speed or endurance, he will often used this to restrain a target while either letting a partner provide the finishing blow, or drawing his own sword once a secure enough pin has been achieved. His use of this in recent years is in no way connected to his recent discovery and binging of the entire WWE catalogue.
Fusillade: A written spell much like his others, the spell is always scribbled on what appears to be a baseball, looking almost as if it were covered in an entire team’s worth of signatures. Once thrown (Or, more properly, pitched) the ball will accelerate forward rapidly, and impact with the force of a cannonball. If properly scribed, the spell should also hold the ball together on impact, ensuring that more of the force is transferred into the target. This is the only written spell that he carries more than one of with him.
Poucet: Pluto’s only verbal spell, and one that sees use in every job. Repeated each time he takes a step, this incantation lengths his strides to an absurd degree, though the resulting physical toll on his body is also enhanced. He will quickly be reduced to breathlessness with prolonged usage, but by then he will usually have long reached his destination.
