Early thoughts I'm having are circling around the Fantastic Four (with quite a bit of variation) or the Hellfire Club. Probably the former makes more sense with what characters are already set up.
Ezekiel Member
STATUS: What's the worst thing about the Roleplayerguild and why is it the status bar? 3 yrs ago
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What's the worst thing about the Roleplayerguild and why is it the status bar?
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Absolute Comics Presents - What If? [A DC & Marvel One Universe RP]
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4 mos ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
In
Absolute Comics Presents - What If? [A DC & Marvel One Universe RP]
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4 mos ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
<Snipped quote by Ezekiel>
Hey, I know you.
Oh really?
I guess you might have seen me around.
In
Absolute Comics Presents - What If? [A DC & Marvel One Universe RP]
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4 mos ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
I may try and dabble up a character(s) although rather undecided on who that might be.
Collab with @Ruby
In the immediate moments it became rather clear to Davos why none of the most romantic moments of the old tales had taken place in the heat of martial combat, where maidens were swept off their feet by conquering heroes. He was not a weak man, but as Vittoria became an increasingly dead weight in his arms, the pace of their movement slowed to an intolerable level considering his fear for her. It was hardly the moment as he had envisioned it, but with a frustrated and angry growl, he lifted her fully, holding herself across his body as they moved. He was able to carry her faster than he could drag her, even if it was still a pace that felt like a crawl compared to what he wished.
He made a mental note to inform the next poet he met of the ludicrous nature of a slender woman disguised as a knight being able to do this.
Davos paused for a moment, turned to regard the maelstrom of violence that was the vengeful actions of Vittoria’s deadliest sworn knights. The call of the storm was in his blood, as his mother would have said, and his whole form seemed to ache with the desire to join them in their bloody vengeance. His blood might have been of the storm, but the heart is beat through was for her, and with only a moment passed he resumed his following of the Redwyne blade.
She stirred, still in his arms, and still trying to countermand the chaotic devestation that was being wrought around her. He hushed her with a noise that was more dismissive than any he had ever replied to her with, instead calling to the knight infront of him.
“She needs a Maester, quickly, there may be poison.” It seemed an obvious thing to say, but what he meant in full was that there was no point in rushing her as far as possible if she was only to die of the foulness in her blood, if his fears were correct. They would have to risk something closer, and pray the attack had been blunted in blood before they could be found. So they diverged, away from the most direct route of escape towards where she might be saved, should the worst be true.
Ryam Redwyne didn’t stop swinging until there was nothing left in front of him. His body pulsated; his mind raw as his eyes blinked at the sudden absence of targets. Even those that had remained before them were running off, scurrying. There was not but confusion in his eyes until his ears found the missing piece in the screams from the street they had left behind:
Dragonfire.
But even that left him with nothing but confusion until Dennet spat, and came up from their rear guard to help Davos with the weight of the High Marshall, “Vaera’s bloody dragon.” Only after Dennet helped Davos steady Vittoria to a shared weight between the two men did his lift her face, and look at her eyes, “…hells, you might be right about that poison.”
Her eyes were empty vessels, with precious little recognition left in them, despite the fact that the blood came from her shoulder, not her chest, or neck. “Thank the Father whoever shot her missed anything important. What about the tavern?”
It was in front of them, but Ryam turned and shook his head, “Too close to the dragonfire if it starts to spread.”
“Wise, Ser,” the calm voice said, but Redwyne’s response to it was to lift his shield and blade again. The tall, thin, figure in grey sighed audibly and lifted the chain from under the robe, “I’m a Maester. We came for her.”
The gray hood was lowered, and it was only then that the older age of the thin man became apparent. Two other robed figures appeared from behind him, shorter but wider bodied, one of them getting very close to Vittoria immediately, enough for Dennet and Davos to hold out hands.
“We’re friends,” the robed figure explained, instead turning his attention to the face of the woman, “Vittoria? It’s Theyin. Where are they, Vittoria?”
The older man gave another supple sigh, and waved his hand, head darting this way and that, acutely aware of the danger they were still in, “Admirable, Theyin, but we do not have time…and she does not seem aware enough for an answer. Lords, follow us.”
The older man brought his hood back over his head and began to lead the way, as the other two Maesters walked behind the three Lords and the Lady. They went through one alley and to another, then another, and up ancient stone steps before through a seemingly empty building, turning left, walking into another alley, then finally up wooden stairs leading to the second floor of another wooden building, where a brown-haired young woman with green eyes and simply made dress awaited, holding the door open, eyes scanning the area around.
Inside was a perfumed and candle lit bedchamber with steel tub behind a screen off in the far corner. “Put here on the bed,” commanded the older Maester. Even though Davos and Dennet did as he bid, Dennet wasn’t done. Instead, the large man splattered in blood squared up to the older man and unleashed a tone that growled its way from his throat.
“What do you want with her?”
The tall man still wasn’t as tall as Dennet, his slender shoulders drooping, as if irritated with something he had no time for. “My name is Millin. At the moment, I am the best person in the Realm to see to Lady Vittoria.”
“He’s the Archmaester of Healing,” the other one who’d spoken directly to Vittoria, Theyin, interjected. In response, Ryam Redwyne, all but covered in blood, stepped uncomfortably close to him, with a quiet tone that sounded sharper than steel.
“Where is what?”
Theyin scoffed, “If she did not tell you, I cann—”
The dagger from his belt came out, and the woman who had held open the door for them all closed it, gently, before pleading, “Not here, please.”
“You will,” somehow, Ryam’s voice was quieter than before, yet stronger still, “or your Archmaester will need to tend to you, next.”
The third of the hooded Maesters kept by the door, in case he needed to make an immediate escape.
“Don’t start killing them before they have a chance to save her.” Davos spoke to Ryam, but his apologetic eyes were on woman as the door was closed, eyes that turned many a degree colder by the time they settled back on the room, the intensity of his gaze set on the maesters rather than the knight he had just chastised.
"I would answer his question though, I have no authority here." It was the cool tones of someone who knew very much that there were few places across the realm where this was actually true, an ease of command from those born into it, but in this case he had little hope or desire to control the knight in his duty. The only thing that mattered was that their fragile temporary alliance did not fall apart before Vittoria had been saved.
Millin sighed so deep, it appeared as if the man might collapse where he stood, until his head gave a bitter shake, “Scrolls. Vittoria Tyrell has scrolls from the Valyrian Freehold that should not exist. Presumably taken from the Pirate King she defeated in campaign. Scrolls of ancient, dark, magic that could well end the world of reason and man. That is why the Citadel has had her watched. That is why we cannot allow her to die. If you know where they are, you NEED to tell us.”
Ryam’s body relaxed, confusion as his blue eyes looked at Dennet. Dennet’s dark brown eyes looked as stunned as they could ever look, it was Dennet’s low rumble of a voice that answered for them all, “She hasn’t told us. We haven’t seen anything. Knowing her, they’re in some vault of Highgarden. If you want an answer, it’ll have to be from her.”
Millin nodded, “As expected. Vittoria is no fool, she was always unlikely to leave them with the likes of any of you. Now go, we will do what we can. Theyin, I will send you to the Citadel for various substances.”
“I’ll stay right here.” Ryam Redwyne was her sworn shield, an oath to his cousin he would not break.
Dennet looked to Davos, “Let us see to the men that followed us. We need to find a way out of this city, and I may well need your Baratheon name to secure it.”
Davos nodded, the desperate cries of Vittoria even as she faded crashing back to his memory. Even if he wasn't inclined to act on his own accord, he wouldn't allow her to wake thinking he had done nothing to help prevent further chaos and bloodshed. At least towards those not directly responsible for putting her in this state.
He took a further look around the room, at those assembled. He had faith that they could treat her, but it still seemed a cruel jest of fate that this should happen so soon to the possibility of his happiness. He moved to where they had her, lying across and all but dead to the world. He did not fear the potential of any poison as he lent to kiss her, gently pressing his own lips to her's. Memories that were yet to be flooded his mind, of many more kisses and the potential of their years together. If the gods were not kind and they were not to be, he held the moment dearly, the potential last touch of their lips together, committing the feel of her to the very core of his being, never to be forgotten. He hoped there was still enough of her not wracked by the ravaging course of her injury that she might be aware of him, that they could at least share that.
"Farewell but not forever." He whispered to her, before standing tall again, determination set across his features as he strode from the room.
The Reach
Oldtown
In the immediate moments it became rather clear to Davos why none of the most romantic moments of the old tales had taken place in the heat of martial combat, where maidens were swept off their feet by conquering heroes. He was not a weak man, but as Vittoria became an increasingly dead weight in his arms, the pace of their movement slowed to an intolerable level considering his fear for her. It was hardly the moment as he had envisioned it, but with a frustrated and angry growl, he lifted her fully, holding herself across his body as they moved. He was able to carry her faster than he could drag her, even if it was still a pace that felt like a crawl compared to what he wished.
He made a mental note to inform the next poet he met of the ludicrous nature of a slender woman disguised as a knight being able to do this.
Davos paused for a moment, turned to regard the maelstrom of violence that was the vengeful actions of Vittoria’s deadliest sworn knights. The call of the storm was in his blood, as his mother would have said, and his whole form seemed to ache with the desire to join them in their bloody vengeance. His blood might have been of the storm, but the heart is beat through was for her, and with only a moment passed he resumed his following of the Redwyne blade.
She stirred, still in his arms, and still trying to countermand the chaotic devestation that was being wrought around her. He hushed her with a noise that was more dismissive than any he had ever replied to her with, instead calling to the knight infront of him.
“She needs a Maester, quickly, there may be poison.” It seemed an obvious thing to say, but what he meant in full was that there was no point in rushing her as far as possible if she was only to die of the foulness in her blood, if his fears were correct. They would have to risk something closer, and pray the attack had been blunted in blood before they could be found. So they diverged, away from the most direct route of escape towards where she might be saved, should the worst be true.
Ryam Redwyne didn’t stop swinging until there was nothing left in front of him. His body pulsated; his mind raw as his eyes blinked at the sudden absence of targets. Even those that had remained before them were running off, scurrying. There was not but confusion in his eyes until his ears found the missing piece in the screams from the street they had left behind:
Dragonfire.
But even that left him with nothing but confusion until Dennet spat, and came up from their rear guard to help Davos with the weight of the High Marshall, “Vaera’s bloody dragon.” Only after Dennet helped Davos steady Vittoria to a shared weight between the two men did his lift her face, and look at her eyes, “…hells, you might be right about that poison.”
Her eyes were empty vessels, with precious little recognition left in them, despite the fact that the blood came from her shoulder, not her chest, or neck. “Thank the Father whoever shot her missed anything important. What about the tavern?”
It was in front of them, but Ryam turned and shook his head, “Too close to the dragonfire if it starts to spread.”
“Wise, Ser,” the calm voice said, but Redwyne’s response to it was to lift his shield and blade again. The tall, thin, figure in grey sighed audibly and lifted the chain from under the robe, “I’m a Maester. We came for her.”
The gray hood was lowered, and it was only then that the older age of the thin man became apparent. Two other robed figures appeared from behind him, shorter but wider bodied, one of them getting very close to Vittoria immediately, enough for Dennet and Davos to hold out hands.
“We’re friends,” the robed figure explained, instead turning his attention to the face of the woman, “Vittoria? It’s Theyin. Where are they, Vittoria?”
The older man gave another supple sigh, and waved his hand, head darting this way and that, acutely aware of the danger they were still in, “Admirable, Theyin, but we do not have time…and she does not seem aware enough for an answer. Lords, follow us.”
The older man brought his hood back over his head and began to lead the way, as the other two Maesters walked behind the three Lords and the Lady. They went through one alley and to another, then another, and up ancient stone steps before through a seemingly empty building, turning left, walking into another alley, then finally up wooden stairs leading to the second floor of another wooden building, where a brown-haired young woman with green eyes and simply made dress awaited, holding the door open, eyes scanning the area around.
Inside was a perfumed and candle lit bedchamber with steel tub behind a screen off in the far corner. “Put here on the bed,” commanded the older Maester. Even though Davos and Dennet did as he bid, Dennet wasn’t done. Instead, the large man splattered in blood squared up to the older man and unleashed a tone that growled its way from his throat.
“What do you want with her?”
The tall man still wasn’t as tall as Dennet, his slender shoulders drooping, as if irritated with something he had no time for. “My name is Millin. At the moment, I am the best person in the Realm to see to Lady Vittoria.”
“He’s the Archmaester of Healing,” the other one who’d spoken directly to Vittoria, Theyin, interjected. In response, Ryam Redwyne, all but covered in blood, stepped uncomfortably close to him, with a quiet tone that sounded sharper than steel.
“Where is what?”
Theyin scoffed, “If she did not tell you, I cann—”
The dagger from his belt came out, and the woman who had held open the door for them all closed it, gently, before pleading, “Not here, please.”
“You will,” somehow, Ryam’s voice was quieter than before, yet stronger still, “or your Archmaester will need to tend to you, next.”
The third of the hooded Maesters kept by the door, in case he needed to make an immediate escape.
“Don’t start killing them before they have a chance to save her.” Davos spoke to Ryam, but his apologetic eyes were on woman as the door was closed, eyes that turned many a degree colder by the time they settled back on the room, the intensity of his gaze set on the maesters rather than the knight he had just chastised.
"I would answer his question though, I have no authority here." It was the cool tones of someone who knew very much that there were few places across the realm where this was actually true, an ease of command from those born into it, but in this case he had little hope or desire to control the knight in his duty. The only thing that mattered was that their fragile temporary alliance did not fall apart before Vittoria had been saved.
Millin sighed so deep, it appeared as if the man might collapse where he stood, until his head gave a bitter shake, “Scrolls. Vittoria Tyrell has scrolls from the Valyrian Freehold that should not exist. Presumably taken from the Pirate King she defeated in campaign. Scrolls of ancient, dark, magic that could well end the world of reason and man. That is why the Citadel has had her watched. That is why we cannot allow her to die. If you know where they are, you NEED to tell us.”
Ryam’s body relaxed, confusion as his blue eyes looked at Dennet. Dennet’s dark brown eyes looked as stunned as they could ever look, it was Dennet’s low rumble of a voice that answered for them all, “She hasn’t told us. We haven’t seen anything. Knowing her, they’re in some vault of Highgarden. If you want an answer, it’ll have to be from her.”
Millin nodded, “As expected. Vittoria is no fool, she was always unlikely to leave them with the likes of any of you. Now go, we will do what we can. Theyin, I will send you to the Citadel for various substances.”
“I’ll stay right here.” Ryam Redwyne was her sworn shield, an oath to his cousin he would not break.
Dennet looked to Davos, “Let us see to the men that followed us. We need to find a way out of this city, and I may well need your Baratheon name to secure it.”
Davos nodded, the desperate cries of Vittoria even as she faded crashing back to his memory. Even if he wasn't inclined to act on his own accord, he wouldn't allow her to wake thinking he had done nothing to help prevent further chaos and bloodshed. At least towards those not directly responsible for putting her in this state.
He took a further look around the room, at those assembled. He had faith that they could treat her, but it still seemed a cruel jest of fate that this should happen so soon to the possibility of his happiness. He moved to where they had her, lying across and all but dead to the world. He did not fear the potential of any poison as he lent to kiss her, gently pressing his own lips to her's. Memories that were yet to be flooded his mind, of many more kisses and the potential of their years together. If the gods were not kind and they were not to be, he held the moment dearly, the potential last touch of their lips together, committing the feel of her to the very core of his being, never to be forgotten. He hoped there was still enough of her not wracked by the ravaging course of her injury that she might be aware of him, that they could at least share that.
"Farewell but not forever." He whispered to her, before standing tall again, determination set across his features as he strode from the room.
Terran Low Orbit
“I think that bit used to be an ocean, XV-25.” The chirpy tone directed towards the automaton was met only with a series of confirmation beeps, the speaker looking out over the slowly turning visage of Terra. The orbital station wasn’t large, by design, intended once for some sort of communications relay. The great nest of optical and communications relays now repurposed for a new aim, observation and espionage.
Acolyte Verona Zorel Omatah, colloquially known to those who mattered as ‘Oma’ didn’t like to ponder the true role of her post too much, which, she often considered, was pr
Oma, though, couldn’t’ quite bring herself to despise the technobarbarians of the world below as much as she was supposed to. Of course, academically, she was aware of how substantial a roadblock the factions below had been to the pursuit of knowledge, often attacking the Explorators who had landed on Terra, seeking the secrets of a lost age. She had experience with some explorators though, and she quite understood the desire to shoot them. Her listening post was a key part of any ongoing operations, watching the world below for gaps in the capabilities of the Terran savages. To her, it more felt like listening out for a chance to drop a strike team on some poor people who finally thought they had a moment of peace on the world below. Because of this, no matter how capable she was at the spooling of the data-looms, of the artistry of encryption, she was never tempted to manipulate, she would provided objectivity through ambivalence.
She enjoyed her post though, for reasons many back home would probably find childish, or even vaguely heretical for the true emotion puritans.
“Hurry up, XV-25, it’s starting.” She called back to the automation which began to clank its way across the small lounge space, the smell of freshly fried cooking wafting ahead of it. With a loud clunk the thinking-machine came to rest beside her, handing over the paper bag in its hands. Once she was sure she wouldn’t be kicked off the station for the breach of protocol, she made some alterations to her nutrition station, able to approximate something close to her favourite comfort snack from back home. She bit into the first long stick of fried and sweetened dough with a happy hum, before pointing out across the viewport. It was entirely unnecessary, the automaton only had rudimentary optical sensors and the barest hint of what could be considered intelligence, but that hadn’t stopped her adopting the assistant as a sort of pet.
At the trace of her finger, the spectacle begun. The blazing light of Sol began to crest over the far horizon of Terra. The light streamed through an atmosphere abused by thousands of years of industry ad war, igniting the tortured clouds into a kaleidoscope of light. The light formed a corona across the planetary rim, while the world danced in tendrils of rainbow light. It was a shame only XV-25 ever joined her in watching the Sunrise, her colleagues were far too lost in their tasks to consider such frivolous things.
Despite her capability, she was the least augmented of the small crew. This wasn’t too unusual, considering she was also the youngest member by several decades. It was unusual that someone of her age and junior rank within the Cult should be assigned to the position. Many subsects of the Cult didn’t adhere to the unrestrained augmentation found among her station mates, but they tended not to be members of the Data Logi. She didn’t quite see why, they already had computers, she had no desire to become one. Another deepfried snack passed her lips as she continued to watch the light show of the world below, and she mused that perhaps she could do with being a little less ‘fleshy,’ but that the Cult doctrine probably wasn’t there to shrink a robe size on your hips.
“You are wasting time, Acolyte Omatah.” The droning voice snapped her out of her reprieve in watching the planet below. Magus Hemmar had not approved of her assignment to his posting, nor her ‘eccentric’ qualities, although he had begrudgingly accepted the results she had brought to the team. A suggestion that perhaps by retaining more of her human form than the normal datasmyth she provided a more nuanced ability to manipulate data had once been posed in a report to him by another member of the team, and that had almost caused a station wide schism. Considering their team was made up of only four Acolytes and the Magos, it wouldn’t have been the most impressive of Terra’s civil wars.
“I’ve already finished the latest data package, it is ready for sacred transference when you have time to evaluate its merits, Honoured Magos.” Oma’s tone was chirpy, but her vision didn’t shift from her view. The twin mechdendrites that linked to the base of her spine motioned towards her nearby work station from her improvised seat infront of the observation window. That, along with the bright blue glow of her eyes, and the metal edging along her temples and cheek bones were the only visible signs of augmentation Oma presented.
A brief burst of noise from XV-25 confirmed to the Magus in simplified binharic that the Acolyte spoke true, the Magus responding in a noise that was part frustration and part impressed surprise. “If you committed fully to your task, Acolyte Omatah, you could have my position within mere decades.” She didn’t dislike Hemmar, despie their disagreements. He was committed enough to his belief in results orientated piety that he was honest in his reports about her capabilities. That, or he knew enough about her ability to understand no transmission from the post would be out of reach for her ability decrypt. Sometimes she did snoop on her colleagues, but only out of boredom.
“I wouldn’t want to take that from you, Honoured Magos, Observation Post Beta-4 wouldn’t be the same without you.” In truth, as much as she enjoyed the Sunrise, Oma didn’t want to consider spending the rest of her days aboard, no matter how divinely blessed the opportunity was.
“I see our assessments about the offensives across Eurasia have been vindicated.” The Magus didn’t speak further on the matter, the mechanical eyelids across his optic enhancements closing as his mind delved into the data package she had prepared for transmission to Mars, his modified memory cores rolling through the data at lightning pace.
“Yes, the ‘Imperium’ continues to press their Eastern front, their assault on the Nordyc bloc seems to be going well, if their own reports are to be trusted. I’ve been able to back that up via orbital imaging, but, sadly, the Sen don’t have much in the way of data-based communication to confirm from their side.” Oma stood and stretched, or at least floated up into a standing position, her mechadentries no longer holding her down to her throne of repurposed boxes. The installation was meant to be gravity locked, but steadily as the ancient systems aged more and more of the post had reverted into near zero-g. As the newest replacement, she’d been assigned one of said chambers as her work station, despite it posing the greatest risk to her functioning given her more human physiology. She didn’t mind for the short term, in fact, it was quite fun.
“Merica is a cascade of transmissions, the fighting must be fierce, but it does not seem as if all of the Vault-Cities have unified.” She continued to muse, correctly estimating where in the report the Magus would have reached. “The Pan-Pacific Invaders are starting to negotiate terms with some of them, it seems many are weighing up the opportunity that vassalage could give them in combating local rivals.” That, in fact, was exactly what the encrypted information passed between the invading force and some of the more central territories of Merica had shown her, timed with the start of the Imperium’s intervention into the territory.
“Very well, Acolyte Omatah, I will begin the sacred rites to-“
Every light in the room suddenly wavered for a moment, before returning to usual brightness. It was a momentary glitch that interrupted the Magus’ thought process, but he made to immediately carry on, were it not for the Acolytes sudden frantic activity. “Acolyte, your heart rate has increased dramatically, explain.”
Oma had her face practically pressed to the glass of the observation window, gazing down at the surface of Terra as a new series of lights joined her treasured Sunrise below. “Magus! That was an electronic disturbance from the surface, a detonation!”
“There is nothing in ongoing datastreams to suggest-“
“I can see it! It’s in Eastern Ursh.” She gestured frantically with both a finger and the right of her two mechadentries, her frantic motion causing the long strands of her blonde mane of hair to cascade around her in the weak gravity.
“Visual assessment is not a part of your duties, Acolyte.”
For once entirely ignoring her superior, Oma’s eyes blazed an even brighter blue as she accessed the Noosphere web of the station, the far more hidden and subtle enhancements to her cortex immediately plunging into the dataweave. There hadn’t been any warning from such sources prior, but now that the attack had commenced, and the territory below recovered from the electronic pulse, evidence blazed before her.
“Then look to the data, Magus, four thermonuclear detonations in Eastern Ursh.” While such devices had been a key factor in the current state of the world below, in the modern day they were vanishingly rare and even harder for the states below to maintain. That was, at least, the official stance of most of the Cult. Accepting that some of the Techno-Barbarians of Terra had become advanced enough to understand and implement the greater technologies of their past was something of a taboo. “It’s on their Eastern border, the Empire has struck them too.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she spoke, pulling together the conclusion from the data almost as fast as it was realised in real time. The gridlock of powers that had held sway over Terra for at least her entire lifetime was beginning to shift, a power grab that would have more consequences for Mars than even the Explorators could have anticipated.
“We may need to modify your report, Acolyte.”
Banner art image by Krysdecker
Location: Queens, New York; Avengers Academy
Interactions: Everyone
The group as she had shown up, and those that had arrived since certainly made for an eclectic bunch. There were those clearly arriving with loved ones all the way to those seemingly being delivered under armed guard. Laura had a brief grin to herself that she supposed she counted against both of those. It reminded her of the early days at Xavier's. Mutants had come from a wide variety of different backgrounds and different levels of support. At least, she supposed, for some here, that didn't always come with the caveat of a nation which feared and hated them.
She had her differences with how the X-men had run things and had continued to function, but she couldn't doubt the necessity of the work. A shudder of guilt ran through her. Some days this felt like abandoning her people to side with the oppressor, the 'human.' There were those on both sides of the mutant divide who had often accused Logan of such things, was she simply following in the footsteps of a man who had turned his back on his own people?
The tour provided an opportunity for her to be quiet with her thoughts, perhaps a blessing and a curse. The workshop didn't hold too much of pressing interest to her. Logan had taught her to tinker with engines of various kinds, but that was more from a self-reliance perspective than an upgrade one, and she'd always kept her own bike away from communal areas like this, especially when she doubted this campus would have any mundane security issues. Beyond its own inhabitants, that was. The gymnasium and assorted spaces grabbed her attention more so, despite her distractions. She wasn't sure if it would always have been a part of her personality or a deliberate choice of her 'behavioural programming' but she had a fierce competitive streak and was already evaluating her chances against her fellow students at each of the sports and activities on offer. Apart from swimming, she gave the pool a wide berth.
When the tour reached the cafeteria a few moments passed where the keen eyes of the students may have picked up on Laura's absence, but by the time the tour was moving on she was miraculously back in the fold, an unwrapped and already half-finished snack bar in her hands, no doubt procured from the mostly empty space. She seemed a little more animated, putting aside the troubling thoughts for the moment. She knew Logan would secretly adore the library, at least the portions which didn't entirely relate to magic. Then came the matter of the dorm rooms.
The revelation of shared rooms brought a raised eyebrow to her features before a brief laugh and comment passed her lips.
"All that Stark money couldn't afford a few extra walls?" Her tone was teasing, but ultimately light-hearted.
Location: Queens, New York; Avengers Academy
Interactions: Everyone
The group as she had shown up, and those that had arrived since certainly made for an eclectic bunch. There were those clearly arriving with loved ones all the way to those seemingly being delivered under armed guard. Laura had a brief grin to herself that she supposed she counted against both of those. It reminded her of the early days at Xavier's. Mutants had come from a wide variety of different backgrounds and different levels of support. At least, she supposed, for some here, that didn't always come with the caveat of a nation which feared and hated them.
She had her differences with how the X-men had run things and had continued to function, but she couldn't doubt the necessity of the work. A shudder of guilt ran through her. Some days this felt like abandoning her people to side with the oppressor, the 'human.' There were those on both sides of the mutant divide who had often accused Logan of such things, was she simply following in the footsteps of a man who had turned his back on his own people?
The tour provided an opportunity for her to be quiet with her thoughts, perhaps a blessing and a curse. The workshop didn't hold too much of pressing interest to her. Logan had taught her to tinker with engines of various kinds, but that was more from a self-reliance perspective than an upgrade one, and she'd always kept her own bike away from communal areas like this, especially when she doubted this campus would have any mundane security issues. Beyond its own inhabitants, that was. The gymnasium and assorted spaces grabbed her attention more so, despite her distractions. She wasn't sure if it would always have been a part of her personality or a deliberate choice of her 'behavioural programming' but she had a fierce competitive streak and was already evaluating her chances against her fellow students at each of the sports and activities on offer. Apart from swimming, she gave the pool a wide berth.
When the tour reached the cafeteria a few moments passed where the keen eyes of the students may have picked up on Laura's absence, but by the time the tour was moving on she was miraculously back in the fold, an unwrapped and already half-finished snack bar in her hands, no doubt procured from the mostly empty space. She seemed a little more animated, putting aside the troubling thoughts for the moment. She knew Logan would secretly adore the library, at least the portions which didn't entirely relate to magic. Then came the matter of the dorm rooms.
The revelation of shared rooms brought a raised eyebrow to her features before a brief laugh and comment passed her lips.
"All that Stark money couldn't afford a few extra walls?" Her tone was teasing, but ultimately light-hearted.
Banner art image by Krysdecker
New York State
Definitely Not Queens
Out in the sticks there were the sort of places that never really shut. Not because they were always heaving like the most infamous of night clubs but just for the chance of anyone passing through a part of the country no one had any real reason to be in.
In Laura's defence that was exactly what she had been doing, passing through. She'd loosely been heading in the direction she was supposed to be, roaring through the countryside on the way to New York proper. The Ducati Diavel Cromo she had 'borrowed' from Logan a while back had always been a dream to ride and so she'd been in no real rush other than wanting to push the speed on her way down from the border. Ever since Logan and her had put a crashing stop to the latest (and hopefully last standing) Weapon X offshoot she'd been killing time while Logan focused on the set up for the new academy. While she'd spent plenty of time with the old man she'd not seen much of Canada, the land that had brought the world Wolverine.
A few months of crisp air, endless forest and rolling mountains had done her good. Perhaps she had inherited some of Logan's desire for isolation after all, for she hadn't found herself missing much in the way of company, beyond the small collection of frontiersmen and Athapaskan she'd shared a few campfires with. She'd felt far worse on the brief trip across the Great Lakes once she had finally quit the wild lands of the Canadian North West. The deep cold waters of Lake Ontario were one of the few environments she wasn't built to survive, just an endless cold waking grave were she to go overboard and sink on account of her mesh skeleton.
She'd been frantic once she was back on dry land in Rochester and had opened up the bike, far from taking a direct line to New York City she'd powered up and into the Appalachian mountains. Laura had spent some time on the trail, listening to old ghost stories from keen-eyed students and excited pensioners on their bucket list trip across the mountains. Older than the rings of Saturn, she had no doubt at least a few of them had to be true about those ancient peaks. Eventually though, if she was going to be on time, she had to carry on.
So, that's how she found herself at Roamin' Joe's. An establishment that half claimed to be a truckers' diner, but in reality was a dive bar on a trucking route. The kind of place that had sprung up when drinking and driving wasn't considered a crime but an acceptable way to deal with the boredom of such a life.
Plus they did an all-you-can-eat wings deal and she was very determined to prove that 'all' was her limit on that.
The claret red of her Doc Marten boots kicked the stand of the bike into place as she dismounted, helmet under one arm as she made her way to the bar itself, the gravel of the car park crunching under her tread. With a short black leather jacket, matching colour jeans, and a white European Tour AC/DC T-shirt tied into a crop top, she certainly hit a few wild child stereotypes as she pushed her way through doors that had once been automatic and into the establishment.
It would be generous to suggest there were half a dozen other patrons in the bar, depending on if you included an older man snoozing in a booth in the corner, so she sat at the bar with a generous bracket of empty stools on either side of her.
"Wings, please." She called out, pointing to the offer hanging from one corner of the bar. "What whiskey have you got?" This second question earned her a long look from the bedraggled man behind the bar. They shared the look for a moment before the man decided the business was worth more than pressing on the matter of her age.
"Just serve Jack." He rumbled in reply, which earned a scrunch of Laura's nose.
"Ugh, best hope the sauce on those wings is strong then."
Time passed, as it was want to do, wings were consumed along with a steadily increasing measure of Jack Daniels’ finest whiskey. The previously quiet bar, while it could hardly be described as busy, had livened up a bit with the benefit of live entertainment.
Live entertainment in the form of a young woman in the process of breaking whatever ludicrous record had been set before, no doubt by a significantly larger human being.
Where before she'd been sitting alone at the bar, Laura was by now nestled in one of the booths, accompanied by an assortment of individuals. A combination of those who had been passing through and decided to watch history in the making, and those called in by the barman, who she had presumed to be the eponymous Joe, as excitement had built up.
One wing left. The last wing on the last plate to cap it all off. Taking a moment to breathe, Laura pulled her teeth along the bone, pulling the ragingly spiced meat, before throwing up her hands in victory. There was an assorted and raucous cheer from her new trucker friends, who immediately took to taking photos with her, one would end up on the board no doubt for her efforts.
With a content sigh, she sat herself back down, just as another drink arrived for her, although not served by ‘Joe’ as a shorter man slid into the sear opposite her.
“I didn't think when I said ‘be in New York’ I had go specify the City and not wherever this damn place is.” The voice was a growl, but it was hardly done with malice, for all the judgment Logan attempted to put into the words, it was clear he was somewhat amused.
Laura attempted to immediately reply but the combination of a few too many drops of bad whiskey and a few too many (admittedly quite good) wings replaced her retort with an overfilled hiccup, the young woman raising a hand to signal a pause as Logan snorted a laugh at her predicament.
Eventually, she simply followed with, “Yeah but this seemed more fun at the time.”
“You even have to show em a fake ID?” Logan flicked one finger towards the now empty glass still held in Laura's hand. Despite downing drinks for the last hour, she barely felt a buzz and that was fading, the power of their shared healing factor generally more powerful than the rate a dive bar was willing to serve drinks to counteract it.
“I'm waging a war against tyranny in all its forms, like a drinking age of twenty-one, my people would never stand for it.” She mused with a grin, pushing the glass away and drumming her hands on the table.
“You can't drink in Canada yet either.”
“I was talking about Mexico.”
“You're a quarter Hispanic, you've never even been to the place.”
“Sure, but I feel very strongly about this issue.” She let out a sigh, sitting back up straight as the supercharged nature of her body was already easing the sensation of being too damn full. “So, you here on a collection call?”
“Kinda bad form if my kid doesn't even make the opening ceremony,” Logan grunted, trying and failing to seem like that sort of thing would ever bother him.
“Oh no…it's just opened and I'm already a legacy.” Laura half-wailed, a look of false horror on her features. “I can already feel the transatlantic accent taking route.”
“Shut up, pay your tab, and let's go.”
“Oh don't worry, you already did that.”
The rest of the journey went even faster, as was their nature to be competitive, the pair practically racing their way across the remainder of the state, as green mountains gave way to urban sprawl.
The gun of engines heralded the arrival of Wolverine past and present by a few moments, the pair of motorbikes swinging through the gate, the older Logan marginally in the lead as the bikes swung into place. A few terse competitive words bounced between them, before Laura swung herself off her bike. Logan hadn't made an issue of it, so she mostly presumed it was her's to keep for now.
As her genetic father made to vanish into the backdrop, ostensibly to aid with any further preparations but no doubt a means to avoid having to socialise with all the new arrivals at once’ Laura treaded her way over to where the great green form of the Professor was greeting the new arrivals.
“Sup, Hulk.” She called out with a friendly wave and flicked of her hand in a mock salute before her attention drifted around the new arrivals. She'd been part of a similar institution before, but issues among mutantkind had soured that experience. Perhaps a fresh start could lead to a new result.
“How do you do, fellow kids?” She spoke with a flash of a smirk, enough of her black matte-covered lips parting to reveal the flash of her sharpened canines in amusement.
New York State
Definitely Not Queens
Out in the sticks there were the sort of places that never really shut. Not because they were always heaving like the most infamous of night clubs but just for the chance of anyone passing through a part of the country no one had any real reason to be in.
In Laura's defence that was exactly what she had been doing, passing through. She'd loosely been heading in the direction she was supposed to be, roaring through the countryside on the way to New York proper. The Ducati Diavel Cromo she had 'borrowed' from Logan a while back had always been a dream to ride and so she'd been in no real rush other than wanting to push the speed on her way down from the border. Ever since Logan and her had put a crashing stop to the latest (and hopefully last standing) Weapon X offshoot she'd been killing time while Logan focused on the set up for the new academy. While she'd spent plenty of time with the old man she'd not seen much of Canada, the land that had brought the world Wolverine.
A few months of crisp air, endless forest and rolling mountains had done her good. Perhaps she had inherited some of Logan's desire for isolation after all, for she hadn't found herself missing much in the way of company, beyond the small collection of frontiersmen and Athapaskan she'd shared a few campfires with. She'd felt far worse on the brief trip across the Great Lakes once she had finally quit the wild lands of the Canadian North West. The deep cold waters of Lake Ontario were one of the few environments she wasn't built to survive, just an endless cold waking grave were she to go overboard and sink on account of her mesh skeleton.
She'd been frantic once she was back on dry land in Rochester and had opened up the bike, far from taking a direct line to New York City she'd powered up and into the Appalachian mountains. Laura had spent some time on the trail, listening to old ghost stories from keen-eyed students and excited pensioners on their bucket list trip across the mountains. Older than the rings of Saturn, she had no doubt at least a few of them had to be true about those ancient peaks. Eventually though, if she was going to be on time, she had to carry on.
So, that's how she found herself at Roamin' Joe's. An establishment that half claimed to be a truckers' diner, but in reality was a dive bar on a trucking route. The kind of place that had sprung up when drinking and driving wasn't considered a crime but an acceptable way to deal with the boredom of such a life.
Plus they did an all-you-can-eat wings deal and she was very determined to prove that 'all' was her limit on that.
The claret red of her Doc Marten boots kicked the stand of the bike into place as she dismounted, helmet under one arm as she made her way to the bar itself, the gravel of the car park crunching under her tread. With a short black leather jacket, matching colour jeans, and a white European Tour AC/DC T-shirt tied into a crop top, she certainly hit a few wild child stereotypes as she pushed her way through doors that had once been automatic and into the establishment.
It would be generous to suggest there were half a dozen other patrons in the bar, depending on if you included an older man snoozing in a booth in the corner, so she sat at the bar with a generous bracket of empty stools on either side of her.
"Wings, please." She called out, pointing to the offer hanging from one corner of the bar. "What whiskey have you got?" This second question earned her a long look from the bedraggled man behind the bar. They shared the look for a moment before the man decided the business was worth more than pressing on the matter of her age.
"Just serve Jack." He rumbled in reply, which earned a scrunch of Laura's nose.
"Ugh, best hope the sauce on those wings is strong then."
Time passed, as it was want to do, wings were consumed along with a steadily increasing measure of Jack Daniels’ finest whiskey. The previously quiet bar, while it could hardly be described as busy, had livened up a bit with the benefit of live entertainment.
Live entertainment in the form of a young woman in the process of breaking whatever ludicrous record had been set before, no doubt by a significantly larger human being.
Where before she'd been sitting alone at the bar, Laura was by now nestled in one of the booths, accompanied by an assortment of individuals. A combination of those who had been passing through and decided to watch history in the making, and those called in by the barman, who she had presumed to be the eponymous Joe, as excitement had built up.
One wing left. The last wing on the last plate to cap it all off. Taking a moment to breathe, Laura pulled her teeth along the bone, pulling the ragingly spiced meat, before throwing up her hands in victory. There was an assorted and raucous cheer from her new trucker friends, who immediately took to taking photos with her, one would end up on the board no doubt for her efforts.
With a content sigh, she sat herself back down, just as another drink arrived for her, although not served by ‘Joe’ as a shorter man slid into the sear opposite her.
“I didn't think when I said ‘be in New York’ I had go specify the City and not wherever this damn place is.” The voice was a growl, but it was hardly done with malice, for all the judgment Logan attempted to put into the words, it was clear he was somewhat amused.
Laura attempted to immediately reply but the combination of a few too many drops of bad whiskey and a few too many (admittedly quite good) wings replaced her retort with an overfilled hiccup, the young woman raising a hand to signal a pause as Logan snorted a laugh at her predicament.
Eventually, she simply followed with, “Yeah but this seemed more fun at the time.”
“You even have to show em a fake ID?” Logan flicked one finger towards the now empty glass still held in Laura's hand. Despite downing drinks for the last hour, she barely felt a buzz and that was fading, the power of their shared healing factor generally more powerful than the rate a dive bar was willing to serve drinks to counteract it.
“I'm waging a war against tyranny in all its forms, like a drinking age of twenty-one, my people would never stand for it.” She mused with a grin, pushing the glass away and drumming her hands on the table.
“You can't drink in Canada yet either.”
“I was talking about Mexico.”
“You're a quarter Hispanic, you've never even been to the place.”
“Sure, but I feel very strongly about this issue.” She let out a sigh, sitting back up straight as the supercharged nature of her body was already easing the sensation of being too damn full. “So, you here on a collection call?”
“Kinda bad form if my kid doesn't even make the opening ceremony,” Logan grunted, trying and failing to seem like that sort of thing would ever bother him.
“Oh no…it's just opened and I'm already a legacy.” Laura half-wailed, a look of false horror on her features. “I can already feel the transatlantic accent taking route.”
“Shut up, pay your tab, and let's go.”
“Oh don't worry, you already did that.”
The rest of the journey went even faster, as was their nature to be competitive, the pair practically racing their way across the remainder of the state, as green mountains gave way to urban sprawl.
The gun of engines heralded the arrival of Wolverine past and present by a few moments, the pair of motorbikes swinging through the gate, the older Logan marginally in the lead as the bikes swung into place. A few terse competitive words bounced between them, before Laura swung herself off her bike. Logan hadn't made an issue of it, so she mostly presumed it was her's to keep for now.
As her genetic father made to vanish into the backdrop, ostensibly to aid with any further preparations but no doubt a means to avoid having to socialise with all the new arrivals at once’ Laura treaded her way over to where the great green form of the Professor was greeting the new arrivals.
“Sup, Hulk.” She called out with a friendly wave and flicked of her hand in a mock salute before her attention drifted around the new arrivals. She'd been part of a similar institution before, but issues among mutantkind had soured that experience. Perhaps a fresh start could lead to a new result.
“How do you do, fellow kids?” She spoke with a flash of a smirk, enough of her black matte-covered lips parting to reveal the flash of her sharpened canines in amusement.
[quote=@Ezekiel]
Hi! Interested in playing, mostly wrote up a sheet for Laura Kinney, just working on the sample post!
Includes some stuff for Logan though so thought I'd share now just for visibility on that.
Real Name: Laura Kinney
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Alias/Nicknames: Wolverine, Previously X-23.
Appearance: Much like her genetic father, Laura Kinney is not particularly tall, standing at 5'1, she is never the less somewhat closer to average height, relatively, than Logan. In most other hereditary aspects she resembles her mother, sporting the same green eyes and a striking facial resemblance. Despite being raised as a brutal weapon, and many such dramatic events from a young age, Laura has maintains long black hair with surprisingly gentle care, one of the few 'normal' activities she shared with her mother carrying on into her life as a whole. Throughout her childhood and early to mid adolescence Laura has been wiry, almost lanky (despite her height) in build, little more than the muscle required for her designed role as a living weapon. Whether a planned part of her 'progamming,' her natural development, the fact she quite commonly pushes into five digits with her daily calorie intake or a combination of all of the above, Laura has quite dramatically developed into a shapely, if athletic, young woman over the last year and a half. Having a bit of a reputation for being a 'weird goth child' the sudden glow up is something no doubt noted by other students, to which the young woman herself remains oblivious, uncaring, or both.
Personality: While Logan had little to do with Laura's early life, one could be forgiven for thinking otherwise. Much like her father, Laura is brash, prone to anger and possess a grim sense of humour. A matter of debate, but it may seem she has even less patience than the famous firebrand that is the original Wolverine. Despite this, Laura takes considerable effort to attempt to control her more violent urges, tying into her great loathing of feeling like the weapon she was created to be. She may not be a hugely popular or social person, but those she does care about she does so intensely, easily willing and able to put aside her own feelings on matters to enjoy things on another's behalf. Most of all, she is driven to prove she is worthy of her father's legacy, and worthy of being considered a person rather than simply the assassin she was forged to be.
History: Laura Kinney, codenamed X-23, was born in a secret laboratory hidden deep within the heart of the Weapon X program. The facility was dedicated to the sinister purpose of creating genetically enhanced super-soldiers. Since the only genetic sample from Weapon X was damaged, Sarah Kinney, the lead geneticist on the project, was unable to salvage the Y chromosome. Kinney proposed the creation of a female genetic twin. Her request was initially denied. After 22 failed attempts at reconstituting the DNA using a duplicate X chromosome, the 23rd sample yielded a viable sample to combine with an embryo. Although Kinney was allowed to proceed, she was force to act as the surrogate mother of the specimen. For nine months, Kinney's every move was monitored. Finally, she gave birth to "X-23." It was Sarah who gave 'the experiment' her name, Laura. While heavily monitored and forced into a childhood program that focused on raising her to fight and kill, Sarah tried to provide a more humane approach where she could. While this was ultimately futile in preventing the conditioning, it did mean that Laura bonded with Sarah.
The worst treatments were to come once Laura reached her seventh birthday. Not willing to wait for Laura's mutant gifts to manifest during the usual time frame of early adolescence, the Weapon X program exposed her to radiation poisoning to activate her healing factor. Once this was successful, the true horror began, with Laura's claws, having developed two hand-claws and a single foot spike, being removed, coated with adamantium and surgically reattached. Having learned from previous experiments that applying the full adamantium skeleton on a growing child with a healing factor ended in disaster, the program developed a bio-metallic weave of adamantium, secretly based on technology gathered from the remains of the Ultron project, and applied this to Laura's skeleton instead. While still creating great suffering in the process of growth, it would no longer restrict the skeleton from growing and allowing Laura to reach maturity. The finally element of Laura's conditioning was the teaching of a 'trigger scent' a specific chemical combination which would send X-23 into a violent rage upon encountering it, honing in on the source as a target.
As soon as Laura had recovered from the harrowing surgical procedures, she was put into the field, at not even 10 years old being hired out as the premium method of assassination and other wetwork missions. Laura's already violent upbringing only escalated, and increasingly what humanity she had began to slip away. Unbeknownst to Laura, and even Sarah to an extent, a power struggle was brewing within the Weapon-X program. The project lead, Doctor Sutter, against the man who had been his protege, Doctor Rice.
During this time, Sarah's niece Megan was abducted by a serial killer; she smuggled X-23 out of the facility to rescue her. X-23 tracked the abductor to his apartment, killed him, and freed Megan. Sarah was fired when she returned and was escorted off the base. Shortly thereafter, Rice assigned X-23 to eliminate Sutter and his family. He ordered her to keep it secret. X-23 revealed to Sarah that Rice was responsible for the murders. Before Sarah left, Rice revealed a chamber containing the incubation pods for subjects X-24 through X-50.
Sarah drafted a letter to her daughter, assigning her a final mission: destroy the pods and kill Rice. X-23 succeeded and met her mother, and they prepared to flee. However, prior to his death, Rice exposed Sarah to the trigger scent. X-23 went into a murderous frenzy and killed her mother. As she lay dying, Sarah told X-23 that her name was Laura and that she loved her, and handed her the letter and pictures of Charles Xavier, Wolverine, and the Xavier Institute.
During her attempts to reach the Xavier Institute, Laura had to evade pursuit on multiple fronts. While she had succeeded in destroying (at least her facility) the Weapon X program, many of its financial backers became aware of her part and her existence, seeking to reclaim her as a part of their investment. At the same time, SHIELD had become aware of her role in various murders during her time acting on behalf of the program, and so both, for very different reasons, looked to capture her. This ultimately resulted in a stand off outside the Xavier Institute, as so close to her end goal she was cornered. The X-Men themselves may not have acted, were it not for Logan immediately identifying Laura's healing factor and claws as hallmarks of his own genetics, and no doubt another survivor of the Weapon-X program. With her mutant identity confirmed, the X-Men stepped in, declaring the young woman to be under their protection. While this did much to prevent the more nefarious elements from acting on that day, SHEILD was not so easily placated, and the process of proving that Laura was as much a victim of foul forces as her targets had been were lengthy.
The willingness of Charles Xavier to play along with the politics of the situation was a key factor in Logan eventually leaving the X-Men to temporarily join the Avengers, and similarly placed Laura in a twilight zone of loyalties. She well understands the plight of her fellow mutants and the need for the X-Men, but nevertheless understands the Avengers weariness towards them. When the Avengers Academy was founded, Logan approached his daughter to be one of a number of mutants that would instead take part in that program as an effort to further integrate mutant superheroes with their human and metahuman counterparts, and even beyond their growing familial bond, she was keen to agree.
Having taken her first steps as a now publicly known hero, and with Logan taking on a mentor role, Laura has begun to use the name 'Wolverine' a title passed on by Logan in recognition of his faith in her.
Powerset:
Equipment/Paraphernalia:
Weaknesses:
Sample Post
"Whole lot of nothing out here." A rock wasn't a particularly comfy seat either, but it would suffice, as Laura looked over the surrounding area. A great swathe of Nevada stretched out before her, and as commented, not much else. Not much else beyond the burned-out shell of a structure behind her, built into the rocky slope.
"Wouldn't be much of a secret rogue installation if they built it in a mall." Logan drew close enough to offer comment, which given the two mutants in question, was still a fair distance, their enhanced senses more than making up for the span of meters. Logan dropped the now empty fuel can he had been carrying, casting it aside as he drew closer to the young woman waiting for him in the baking desert heat.
"I get that, but what if you get bored of evil facility cafeteria food? Can't even grab a bit of doordash?" Laura grinned just a little as she stood up and stretched, working the tension out of muscles that were still feeling her hardwired propensity to violence. Even after the pair had just 'overseen' the shutting down of another sleeper-cell facility of the project which had, in different decades, shaped both of their lives, her altered physiology called for more violence. It proved useful in the next moment, however, as she caught a projectile aimed straight for her face. A projectile which turned out to be a Rocky road bar. Shortly unwrapped and the first bite taken, Laura never the less furnished Logan with a raised eyebrow.
"You joke about food when you're hungry, which is most of the time." The man replied with a grunt, taken up a seat on the rock Laura had only just vacated.
"Screw you old man." She retorted between bites, yet still leant towards him, one hand atop his shoulder as she used Logan as a stand for balance, studying again the whole load of nothing which made up this particular isolated valley of Nevada.
In countless previous exchanges Logan would have reposted in similar kind, but on this occassion he was silent, studying Laura for a few moments before nodding, with the ghost of a smile. "Suppose I am getting on a bit."
The sudden bought of severity, even of a warm kind, caught her off guard, and she couldn’t quite hide or shrug off the sudden frown of concentration across her features. [color=gold]”What’s eating you then?”[/color=gold] While not obviously warm, there was no true harshness to her.
”This is the last facility we have a lead on, might even be the actual end of the project.” The pair of them rarely said the actual words, rarely gave the infamous Weapon-X program the validation of their recognition, but it had defined both of their lives. As the pair had began to drift from the Xavier Institute, they had refocused on putting a stop to the myriad of sleeper cells and successor programs that had cropped up in the years since the last major attempt to resurrect the weapon program. In the twisted manner of Logan and Laura’s lives, this was something close to the father and daughter bonding that the circumstances of their lives had robbed them of.
“Heads of the Hydra.” She mused with a pessimistic tone, but it did not betray true fear or regret for that. For all the importance of eradicating the program, she had enjoyed the simplicity of the last few months, and the chance to spend time with her gene-father without the wider moralizing of Xavier.
“Maybe, but this isn’t the way to find who you are, to be the best person you could be.” Logan’s tone held a rare hint of hope, a belief in a future that could be. “The Stark foundation are setting up an Academy, training the next generation of those who might make a difference. They’ve asked me to teach, but I’ve said they can stick the job if they don’t take you into the program.” He drew closer as he spoke, placing one hand on her shoulder, the claws of his hand retreating within the sheathe of his own skin. “And if I’m retiring to some cushy tenure, I want you to have this.” His other hand moved to the prongs of his cowl, pulling it free to hold over the yellow and black mask of his suit.
A thousand and one comments passed through her mind, silly jokes and retorts to diffuse the chance of true emotion, but instead she pulled her arms around him, hugging close to the man she had once cursed the name of. ”Thank you Logan,”
“You’re welcome, Wolverine.”
[/quote]
Sample post is done, sorry for the delay, haven't done a relations section yet as she's only really had contact with Logan, but I can add that in if need be, otherwise I was simply going to add things in as they occurred IC as I presume those would be the majority of her first meetings anyway.
Hi! Interested in playing, mostly wrote up a sheet for Laura Kinney, just working on the sample post!
Includes some stuff for Logan though so thought I'd share now just for visibility on that.
⭙ The Wolverine ⭙
⭙ The Best At What She Does ⭙
"I'm not X-23, I'm not your property. You are the last person who will ever think they can own me. No one owns me! I'm not a thing. I'm Laura Kinney! I'm the Daughter of Sarah. I'm the daughter of Logan. I'm Wolverine!"
Real Name: Laura Kinney
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Alias/Nicknames: Wolverine, Previously X-23.
Appearance: Much like her genetic father, Laura Kinney is not particularly tall, standing at 5'1, she is never the less somewhat closer to average height, relatively, than Logan. In most other hereditary aspects she resembles her mother, sporting the same green eyes and a striking facial resemblance. Despite being raised as a brutal weapon, and many such dramatic events from a young age, Laura has maintains long black hair with surprisingly gentle care, one of the few 'normal' activities she shared with her mother carrying on into her life as a whole. Throughout her childhood and early to mid adolescence Laura has been wiry, almost lanky (despite her height) in build, little more than the muscle required for her designed role as a living weapon. Whether a planned part of her 'progamming,' her natural development, the fact she quite commonly pushes into five digits with her daily calorie intake or a combination of all of the above, Laura has quite dramatically developed into a shapely, if athletic, young woman over the last year and a half. Having a bit of a reputation for being a 'weird goth child' the sudden glow up is something no doubt noted by other students, to which the young woman herself remains oblivious, uncaring, or both.
Personality: While Logan had little to do with Laura's early life, one could be forgiven for thinking otherwise. Much like her father, Laura is brash, prone to anger and possess a grim sense of humour. A matter of debate, but it may seem she has even less patience than the famous firebrand that is the original Wolverine. Despite this, Laura takes considerable effort to attempt to control her more violent urges, tying into her great loathing of feeling like the weapon she was created to be. She may not be a hugely popular or social person, but those she does care about she does so intensely, easily willing and able to put aside her own feelings on matters to enjoy things on another's behalf. Most of all, she is driven to prove she is worthy of her father's legacy, and worthy of being considered a person rather than simply the assassin she was forged to be.
History: Laura Kinney, codenamed X-23, was born in a secret laboratory hidden deep within the heart of the Weapon X program. The facility was dedicated to the sinister purpose of creating genetically enhanced super-soldiers. Since the only genetic sample from Weapon X was damaged, Sarah Kinney, the lead geneticist on the project, was unable to salvage the Y chromosome. Kinney proposed the creation of a female genetic twin. Her request was initially denied. After 22 failed attempts at reconstituting the DNA using a duplicate X chromosome, the 23rd sample yielded a viable sample to combine with an embryo. Although Kinney was allowed to proceed, she was force to act as the surrogate mother of the specimen. For nine months, Kinney's every move was monitored. Finally, she gave birth to "X-23." It was Sarah who gave 'the experiment' her name, Laura. While heavily monitored and forced into a childhood program that focused on raising her to fight and kill, Sarah tried to provide a more humane approach where she could. While this was ultimately futile in preventing the conditioning, it did mean that Laura bonded with Sarah.
The worst treatments were to come once Laura reached her seventh birthday. Not willing to wait for Laura's mutant gifts to manifest during the usual time frame of early adolescence, the Weapon X program exposed her to radiation poisoning to activate her healing factor. Once this was successful, the true horror began, with Laura's claws, having developed two hand-claws and a single foot spike, being removed, coated with adamantium and surgically reattached. Having learned from previous experiments that applying the full adamantium skeleton on a growing child with a healing factor ended in disaster, the program developed a bio-metallic weave of adamantium, secretly based on technology gathered from the remains of the Ultron project, and applied this to Laura's skeleton instead. While still creating great suffering in the process of growth, it would no longer restrict the skeleton from growing and allowing Laura to reach maturity. The finally element of Laura's conditioning was the teaching of a 'trigger scent' a specific chemical combination which would send X-23 into a violent rage upon encountering it, honing in on the source as a target.
As soon as Laura had recovered from the harrowing surgical procedures, she was put into the field, at not even 10 years old being hired out as the premium method of assassination and other wetwork missions. Laura's already violent upbringing only escalated, and increasingly what humanity she had began to slip away. Unbeknownst to Laura, and even Sarah to an extent, a power struggle was brewing within the Weapon-X program. The project lead, Doctor Sutter, against the man who had been his protege, Doctor Rice.
During this time, Sarah's niece Megan was abducted by a serial killer; she smuggled X-23 out of the facility to rescue her. X-23 tracked the abductor to his apartment, killed him, and freed Megan. Sarah was fired when she returned and was escorted off the base. Shortly thereafter, Rice assigned X-23 to eliminate Sutter and his family. He ordered her to keep it secret. X-23 revealed to Sarah that Rice was responsible for the murders. Before Sarah left, Rice revealed a chamber containing the incubation pods for subjects X-24 through X-50.
Sarah drafted a letter to her daughter, assigning her a final mission: destroy the pods and kill Rice. X-23 succeeded and met her mother, and they prepared to flee. However, prior to his death, Rice exposed Sarah to the trigger scent. X-23 went into a murderous frenzy and killed her mother. As she lay dying, Sarah told X-23 that her name was Laura and that she loved her, and handed her the letter and pictures of Charles Xavier, Wolverine, and the Xavier Institute.
During her attempts to reach the Xavier Institute, Laura had to evade pursuit on multiple fronts. While she had succeeded in destroying (at least her facility) the Weapon X program, many of its financial backers became aware of her part and her existence, seeking to reclaim her as a part of their investment. At the same time, SHIELD had become aware of her role in various murders during her time acting on behalf of the program, and so both, for very different reasons, looked to capture her. This ultimately resulted in a stand off outside the Xavier Institute, as so close to her end goal she was cornered. The X-Men themselves may not have acted, were it not for Logan immediately identifying Laura's healing factor and claws as hallmarks of his own genetics, and no doubt another survivor of the Weapon-X program. With her mutant identity confirmed, the X-Men stepped in, declaring the young woman to be under their protection. While this did much to prevent the more nefarious elements from acting on that day, SHEILD was not so easily placated, and the process of proving that Laura was as much a victim of foul forces as her targets had been were lengthy.
The willingness of Charles Xavier to play along with the politics of the situation was a key factor in Logan eventually leaving the X-Men to temporarily join the Avengers, and similarly placed Laura in a twilight zone of loyalties. She well understands the plight of her fellow mutants and the need for the X-Men, but nevertheless understands the Avengers weariness towards them. When the Avengers Academy was founded, Logan approached his daughter to be one of a number of mutants that would instead take part in that program as an effort to further integrate mutant superheroes with their human and metahuman counterparts, and even beyond their growing familial bond, she was keen to agree.
Having taken her first steps as a now publicly known hero, and with Logan taking on a mentor role, Laura has begun to use the name 'Wolverine' a title passed on by Logan in recognition of his faith in her.
Powerset:
- Regenerative Healing Factor - Laura's primary mutant power is her healing factor, derived from Logan's genetic code. Just as powerful as her father's, Laura is able to fully heal massive damage, even able to reattach or regrow limbs. It has yet to be tested if she can fully regrow from as little surviving material as Logan, but there is so far no reason to suggest otherwise. Her healing factor, somewhat differently to Logan, seems to fluctuate with her mental state.
- Accute Senses - Laura has far greater vision, hearing and sense of smell than a baseline human, being comparable to various predatory animals. The most notable improvement is her ability to track scents, being so advanced that she can smell high cholesterol in blood samples, or detect previously undiagnosed illnesses, much akin to some service canines.
- Superhuman agility/reflexes - A combination of extensive training and her increased abilities, Laura is far more agile and with much faster reflexes than even a highly trained human.
- Claws/Skeleton - Laura possess four sets of claws, double claws on her hands and single claws on her feet. These are coated entirely in adamantium as well as naturally being hardier and sharper than human bone. Each use of them creates punctures in her skin, but these are quickly healed. Similar, but not identically, to Logan, Laura's skeleton is covered in a semi-biological weave of adamantium, formed by the same construction process as the biomechanical skinweave of Ultron. This makes her incredibly hardy, as well as heavy.
- Psychic Defences - Whether a result of her healing factor or intensive conditioning, Laura is remarkably resistant to psychic attacks, probes and control. Far from a true immunity, it simply takes even powerful telepaths a concerted effort to read or control her.
Equipment/Paraphernalia:
- Wolverine Suit - Laura now wears a suit of similar design to her father's iconic Wolverine suit. It is highly resistant to damage, heat and cold (if not quite as much as the woman who wears it) as well as being largely porous in order to not restrict her movements and keen senses.
Weaknesses:
- Anger/Impatience: Laura was raised to be a killer, to put the mission above all else. While she has worked hard to break down the conditioning placed upon her, this still manifests as a heightened sense of aggression and impatience to 'get the job done' whatever that task might be.
- Kill Scent: The kill scent that was used by the Weapon X program to control Laura is still very much 'out there' and so far even mind control will not prevent Laura from aggressively seeking to kill the source, her body working entirely independently of her mind to complete the programming.
- Heavy: While not always a true weakness, Laura is incredibly dense, the adamantium across her bones and claws causing her to weigh far more than her frame might suggest. Swimming is almost impossible beyond a few brief moments, along with other tasks which require bouyancy/a lack of weight.
Sample Post
"Whole lot of nothing out here." A rock wasn't a particularly comfy seat either, but it would suffice, as Laura looked over the surrounding area. A great swathe of Nevada stretched out before her, and as commented, not much else. Not much else beyond the burned-out shell of a structure behind her, built into the rocky slope.
"Wouldn't be much of a secret rogue installation if they built it in a mall." Logan drew close enough to offer comment, which given the two mutants in question, was still a fair distance, their enhanced senses more than making up for the span of meters. Logan dropped the now empty fuel can he had been carrying, casting it aside as he drew closer to the young woman waiting for him in the baking desert heat.
"I get that, but what if you get bored of evil facility cafeteria food? Can't even grab a bit of doordash?" Laura grinned just a little as she stood up and stretched, working the tension out of muscles that were still feeling her hardwired propensity to violence. Even after the pair had just 'overseen' the shutting down of another sleeper-cell facility of the project which had, in different decades, shaped both of their lives, her altered physiology called for more violence. It proved useful in the next moment, however, as she caught a projectile aimed straight for her face. A projectile which turned out to be a Rocky road bar. Shortly unwrapped and the first bite taken, Laura never the less furnished Logan with a raised eyebrow.
"You joke about food when you're hungry, which is most of the time." The man replied with a grunt, taken up a seat on the rock Laura had only just vacated.
"Screw you old man." She retorted between bites, yet still leant towards him, one hand atop his shoulder as she used Logan as a stand for balance, studying again the whole load of nothing which made up this particular isolated valley of Nevada.
In countless previous exchanges Logan would have reposted in similar kind, but on this occassion he was silent, studying Laura for a few moments before nodding, with the ghost of a smile. "Suppose I am getting on a bit."
The sudden bought of severity, even of a warm kind, caught her off guard, and she couldn’t quite hide or shrug off the sudden frown of concentration across her features. [color=gold]”What’s eating you then?”[/color=gold] While not obviously warm, there was no true harshness to her.
”This is the last facility we have a lead on, might even be the actual end of the project.” The pair of them rarely said the actual words, rarely gave the infamous Weapon-X program the validation of their recognition, but it had defined both of their lives. As the pair had began to drift from the Xavier Institute, they had refocused on putting a stop to the myriad of sleeper cells and successor programs that had cropped up in the years since the last major attempt to resurrect the weapon program. In the twisted manner of Logan and Laura’s lives, this was something close to the father and daughter bonding that the circumstances of their lives had robbed them of.
“Heads of the Hydra.” She mused with a pessimistic tone, but it did not betray true fear or regret for that. For all the importance of eradicating the program, she had enjoyed the simplicity of the last few months, and the chance to spend time with her gene-father without the wider moralizing of Xavier.
“Maybe, but this isn’t the way to find who you are, to be the best person you could be.” Logan’s tone held a rare hint of hope, a belief in a future that could be. “The Stark foundation are setting up an Academy, training the next generation of those who might make a difference. They’ve asked me to teach, but I’ve said they can stick the job if they don’t take you into the program.” He drew closer as he spoke, placing one hand on her shoulder, the claws of his hand retreating within the sheathe of his own skin. “And if I’m retiring to some cushy tenure, I want you to have this.” His other hand moved to the prongs of his cowl, pulling it free to hold over the yellow and black mask of his suit.
A thousand and one comments passed through her mind, silly jokes and retorts to diffuse the chance of true emotion, but instead she pulled her arms around him, hugging close to the man she had once cursed the name of. ”Thank you Logan,”
“You’re welcome, Wolverine.”
[/quote]
Sample post is done, sorry for the delay, haven't done a relations section yet as she's only really had contact with Logan, but I can add that in if need be, otherwise I was simply going to add things in as they occurred IC as I presume those would be the majority of her first meetings anyway.
@sly13@Ezekiel
Doing this since you two are the big WIPs that I'm largely unsure of how progress is going, so I thought I'd ask directly; how are things? This especially goes to Ezekiel, since I noticed a few days back that your sheet does have a testing post now, but it still says on the post that you're working on it. If you're finished, I'd love to know so I can get back to you on the sheet and hopefully get you ready to roll out!
As for you, sly, lemme know if you need any help involving the sheet and I'll offer as much as I can. Either way, I'm looking forward to when I can get the both of you officially accepted :D
Hey sorry, the post isn't yet finished, was just editing as I go.
There's just been a lot going on irl for me at the moment, I'll try and finish the post up tommorow!
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