[hider=Bak Tsarevna] [img]https://i.imgur.com/AMOxCyO.png[/img] Name: "Living Armor" Bak Tsarevna Age: 16 Grade: Mephisto's, 2nd Year Biography: A student brought in by Mephisto to fill out the ranks, she was discovered in an extensively damaged far-flung town that was all but deserted save for Bak and her parents. Bak's problems had begun when she was just a small child when her parents had discovered odd growths on her back. Unable to afford a doctor and wondering whether these growths might be just a simple rash or some type of cancer, they experienced an odd combination of horror and relief when they realized that their daughter was growing a turret. Over time, other parts formed. Armor here. A missile pod there. Her legs deformed, warping into a new shape to better support her great weight. She learned to fire her guns. People started calling her a monster. She learned to block out the sound with explosions. She learned to really like explosions. She liked explosions so much that eventually everyone just up and left, then she realized life was awfully lonely when you didn't have any more friends to shoot at. So when she was offered a place at a school in the big city where she could make some new friends she jumped at the chance, despite not really attending school since she blew out the back of her kindergarten class. Powers: [b]Built Like A Tank[/b] Bak grows armor and weaponry out of her own body naturally. These are a part of her, act as limbs that she controls, and shares their senses with her (for example, the targeting cameras on her missile pod and artillery gun effectively act as additional eyes.) Because of the great weight these parts place on her she has advanced strength and durability just to be able to move, her internals essentially being either made of or enhanced with metal. This weight problem is the main reason she hasn't just covered herself in all the guns ever, because even her strength would be overwhelmed if she were over-encumbered. [list] [*] [i]Self Modification[/i] - When one of Bak's parts is damaged beyond repair it must be shed and regrown. The length of time this takes varies based on how complex the part being regrown is, from a week (for something like armor) to up to half a year (for something as complex as a missile pod.) It only during this time that, through an effort of will, a growing part can be modified with different features or made to grown into something different. [*] [i]Ammo Generation[/i] - What is the point of having all these guns without the ammo to fire them? Bak is able to grow normal bullets almost instantly within the barrels of her guns, with larger ammunition taking only slightly longer (about two of my posts). Creating ammunition uses up her stamina, steadily exhausting her the more she has to create. Strangely, none of this ammo seems as dangerous as it should be. It will do as much property damage as the real thing, but when pointed at other humans it gets much weaker. It will still hurt and do damage, but even a direct missile strike from doesn't seem enough to kill someone outright. Her attacks lack any true killing intent. [*] [i]Special Sense Share[/i] - If a piece of equipment Bak grows has a special sensor, she shares senses with it. For example, a thermal camera on a missile pod will allow her to have thermal vision or a radio will have the voice come in directly to her ear. If the part conveying the sense is destroyed Bak loses that corresponding sencse. Since these can come in any order this is my idea for either my fifth and fourth power. [*]Rescue Missile: Bak fires a salvo of missiles that, instead of doing damage when exploding, creates an incandescent bubble within which the effect that keeps her bullets from dealing fatal damage applies to every attack made within the bubble. The bubble lasts only a short time. The power seems to adversely effect her launcher, and every use of it extends the time for her missiles to reload until the the launcher can be readjusted. [*]Drone Factory: Bak can spawn up to two remote drones from her mouth. These drones can come in a variety of configurations, but are each made up of one weapon type, one means of locomotion, and a special camera type. Drones can either be directly controlled or act independently from Bak while following simple orders. Bak shares vision with the drones, and their weapons operate under the same mercy restriction as hers do. She can not control more than two, any more than that will come up inoperable. Bak can not create any more than two in a day. [/list] Relationships: [list] [*] [b]Clara Deimos Erdrigan[/b]: Bak calls her tovarish. She is Clara's loyal toady, shield against danger, and secret best friend whether she likes it or not. [*] [b]Rurik Alexeev[/b]: A lazy boy who is always late and rude. Missiles so far have not improved his attitude. The solution is obviously more missiles. A poor worker through and through, but he can blow things up too so it kind of evens out. [hider=Bak's Perspective] Human beings only had one redeeming quality: they were fun targets. Bak had known this for a very long time, nearly so long as she could remember. She assumed that there must have been some affection once, surly someone that had held her at some point and looked down on her with eyes filled to bursting with love. Sometimes when she wracked her memory she could fool herself into believing she could remember how it felt. That was nothing but a delusion. Even if she could grasp at the faintest outline of love in a distant memory it had no meaning in the world she lived in. In her world humans didn't have any love for her. They had jeers. They had stones. They had fear. They looked at her with hatred in their hearts because she was a demon monster who existed only to do evil in the world. They would kill her, if they believed they could, and she had protected herself, because no one else would do so for her, and gradually those fearful glares all disappeared over the horizon never to be seen again. All but two, but there wasn't anything she could do about that. It was here, in the burnt out ruin of what might have been a town, that the man from Mephisto's had found her. She wasn't entirely sure why she agreed to go with him. Maybe it was childlike wanderlust, or a need to search out more targets to shoot, or just to get way from those two whom she could never use her bullets to drive away. They hadn't accompanied her to the cargo plane the man had chartered to take her to Rhea, had not even said goodbye. The only ones she shared a goodbye with were the sheep in the field, who tolerated her only because their glass eyed ignorance kept them from comprehending her. They were the closest things she'd ever had to friends and, as she felt the plane rumble under her as she flew into parts unknown, the only thing she regretted leaving behind. In an odd way it was comforting to know that people were the same everywhere. She'd been in this position before, surrounded by a swarm of children yelling colorful insults, but she didn't let any of it get through her armor. She was actually smiling faintly at the ridiculousness of it all. All you had to do was look at her to tell that this was a bad idea. They were always so stupid. Did they think being here, at this school, would protect them? Did they believe she was unwilling to use her seemingly lethal arsenal? Were they thinking that, perhaps, she would never be foolish enough to fire her missiles at this range? Her missile launcher flipped open, and she stopped for a moment to appreciate the sudden silence and collective intake of breath from the mob. Then she unleashed hell. The first explosion was always the most fun because it made them scatter like carrion birds. The heat was just warm enough to feel good as it washed across her skin, the concussive force that had thrown part of the circle in all directions only making her step backwards to regain her balance. She spun up her guns, tracked one of the fleeing groups with her artillery, and from that point on she was prancing in a field of yellow-orange flowers. The courtyard was filled with big hearty [b]BOOM[/b]s, the scream of pain as people went down, were knocked up, came back down, and somehow over it all the joyous peals of a young girls laughter. It lasted no more than a few seconds before they had scattered out of sight and Bak was, again, seemingly alone. Seemingly. There was one left. There was usually the one in every crowd, the one for whom [i]Fight or Flight[/i] glitched out and made them stand their, dumbly, not even processing what was going on. She turned to face him. She smiled. She'd give him a chance. She wait for him to settle on one of the other while she waited for her missiles to reload. He knelt down, hands raised as though he were expecting that to save him. She saw his hand slowly creep over to a rock, lifting it into his hand. Fight, then. That was brave. She'd only use a missile on him, they didn't hurt as much. When he threw it, though, it wasn't at her. It sailed behind a bush and exploded like something of her own, sending the ones that had been hiding their tumbling head over foot into the air. What? She turned back to the boy, who was giving her a weak little smile. What? Huh? Why? What? She didn't understand. Even as she started clapping she was so dumbfounded she didn't even bother to rotate her guns out of the way. She laughed, but even then she didn't quite get why, and he started to laugh too. Slowly, shakily, like a man that had been led to the gallows only to see the contraption collapse as he stepped on it, but even so. It wasn't until some time later, after she'd met with the rest of the committee and had time to acclimate herself to them, that she fully understood what it was she'd been feeling at that moment. At the time she'd been content to just stand there and laugh together with another human being because it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever felt. [/hider] [*] [b]Christine Abigail[/b]: Pervert. She is pervert. Such good worker, but pervert. Can't use missile. Missile would blow more clothes off. That's what she wants. Oooohhhh, what to do? [*][b] Gilliam DeWitt[/b]: Bak has no idea how to deal with compliments on her appearance, especially from a boy, especially from a boy as handsome as that. Then again, Gilliam eats garbage, so isn't being to his taste sort of insulting? [*] [b]Alto Ganze[/b]: She doesn't really understand why Clara hates this guy so much, so just assumes he must have broken her heart. Or perhaps he's a pervert. Tovaresh must be kept safe from this heartbreaking pervert! [*] [b]King[/b]: Believes King's backstory implicitly. Want's to ask him what space is like so she can go there once she grows up and becomes a giant robot. [/list] [/hider]