[hider=Tommy Bracken][CENTER][youtube]https://youtu.be/RVfGFmBFgoc?si=hhibCXN_fnMbAi6a[/youtube]
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[i]"Fuck it, we'll figure it out. Let's go."[/i]
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[sub]Tommy Garret Bracken

He/Him   [b]|[/b]   16   [b]|[/b]   White   [b]|[/b]   5'7"  [b]|[/b]  176lbs      
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[color=#A79500]Estranged[/color]
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Skills & Talents[/sub]
[i]"God damn... What now?"[/i]
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[color=#A79500][b]Designated Driver  ⫻[/b][/color] Tommy got his license about six months ago. He worked his ass off for it, and the freedom of having a car to go places. For a teenager, he's actually pretty stable behind the wheel. Most people his age aren't driving, and why would they? Where are they going? Nowhere, that's where.

[color=#A79500][b]Future Stage Magician  ⫻[/b][/color] One of Tommy's biggest passions is stage magic. Card tricks, sleight of hand, a performance to wow some kid who can't even tie his shoes... It's the kind of thing that kept him sane growing up in a place as dead as Cornell.

[color=#A79500][b]Fixing Shit  ⫻[/b][/color] No one in Cornell is paying for a mechanic to come and fix anything, some people can't be bothered to do it themselves. It's the Rust Belt, who the hell has that kind of money? Tommy moonlights as a cheap fixer of things as a summer job. For ten dollars, a WiFi router can be made to relinquish its password, and for twenty, you too can have Tommy Bracken figure out why your car is making that noise. 

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[/cell][cell][color=#A79500][sub][b] Appearance[/b][/sub][/color]
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[i]"What? I washed it yesterday."[/i]

[indent]Plain. Simple. Boring. Comfortable. Everything about Tommy Bracken’s appearance suggests laziness or a lack of energy. Baggy sweatshirts are a staple of his wardrobe, along with loose cargo pants and whatever pair of converse shoes he didn’t forget about. He usually has a tired look in his eyes that goes away the moment anyone notices something is off. His hair is blonde, and always a mess, but it’s the part of his appearance that Tommy puts the most effort into. He styles it into a frizzy undercut that’s grown out slightly.[/indent]

[/cell][/row][/table][color=#A79500][sub][b] Psychology[/b][/sub][/color]
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[i]"Ho. Lee. Shit. What the hell is that?"[/i]

[INDENT][color=#A79500][b]MAIN GOAL  ⫻[/b][/color] Before the incident at the party, Tommy dreamed of being one of the few people that ever left Cornell. He dreamed of saving up enough money and finding a place far from Pennsylvania, where he’d connect with the world and make a name as a stage magician. The Tommy Bracken of his vision had friends and a family that he knew held him in high regard, and never had to question that he belonged somewhere.

Now that the world is trying to swallow Cornell up, his main goal is just seeing the end of whatever the fuck is happening.

[color=#A79500][b]PHILOSOPHY  ⫻[/b][/color] Tommy believes that everyone can get a happy ending. He comes from the most barren town in the universe, and his life isn’t a complete loss. If he can manage that, he can manage better. And if he can manage better, then so can other people. All he has to do is try.

[color=#A79500][b]SECRETS  ⫻[/b][/color] In the deepest reaches of the steel mill, one can find the skeletal remains of a man who went missing one year ago. The police never found his body, or the murder weapon. Tommy made sure they never would.

[color=#A79500][b]SEXUALITY  ⫻[/b][/color] Tommy doesn’t get many chances to think about it. He at least feels an attraction to women, but there aren’t many options in Cornell.

[color=#A79500][b]FEARS  ⫻[/b][/color] The prospect of growing old in Cornell terrifies him. He never wanted to be stuck here, in a dying town, even before it became a hellzone. And now, he has to grapple with the fear of possibly being killed by monsters.

[color=#A79500][b]REPUTATION IN CORNELL ⫻[/b][/color] Tommy is an acquired taste. People know him as a well-meaning, gruff guy who will bitch and grouse one moment, and then go out of his way to give them a lift home or sort out whatever they ask him for help with. His demeanor certainly deters people who don't know him, but he's not really a bad guy. Even if he seems dejected and distant sometimes.

[color=#A79500][b]FLAWS  ⫻[/b][/color] Tommy has a tendency to get stuck in his own head. A habit he hasn't shaken since Cornell began drifting towards the Pit, in which he goes off the proverbial radar. Leave him be too long, and suddenly he's up on a rooftop thinking about who-knows-what. He goes quiet, fades into the background, and just haunts the place like a ghost. Tommy does these things because he lacks the sense of community that other people in his town have. Like a Texan in New York City, he isn't quite as connected to the people of Cornell as he should be. It's never been [i]home[/i] to him, and so he's used to assuming that other people feel the same way towards him. Empathy for other people is what keeps him coming around, more so than a sense of belonging.
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[color=#A79500][sub][b] Backstory[/b][/sub][/color]
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[i]"You can't do worse than here."[/i]

[indent]Once upon a time, there was a man named Richard Bracken. He was a steelworker, slinging slag and metal with the best of them over the river in the olden days. Old Richie swung hammers and pulled chains, drove forklifts and pulled levers from six every morning to half past eight every evening. Five days a week, he dug in and sought the American Dream. He enjoyed the job, the feeling of making something and powering through was an accomplishment in his mind. The man didn’t do anything halfway, didn’t let the boss man keep him or anyone down. Richard was just the kind of man who didn’t belong in Cornell. And it wasn’t until he crossed paths with Lauren Walker that he learned that.

She was a waitress at the local diner, with dreams of moving out and heading off to Philadelphia when she saved up enough money for college. Her old man wanted her to “marry up,” her mother wanted her to just find some happiness. She was lonely one night, he was twenty-six, neither of them had anything better to do. So they got together one night at Richard’s place, and turned an entire bottle of tequila into a baby. They named it Tommy.

The nine months before he was born were a blurry disaster of a shotgun wedding, weeks without a night free of shouting, and a few fist fights between Richard and Mr. Walker. Ultimately, everyone came together and decided the kid deserved a chance in spite of his parents' bad decisions. Tommy didn't see a lot of his dad growing up, after the man added guilt to his list of motivations for working the mill. He did his best, even if his best wasn't always [i]the[/i] best. His early life could've been better, but at least he had both a mother and father. There were very few times when both of them were in the same room, with one parents working the weekends and the other being on the clock most of the week.

As he got older, the steel mill became a rusted husk. His father was one of the last workers to ever set foot there, and before long, the beating heart of Cornell was cold. By the time Tommy was 10, his father had to give up the job. It's said that Old Man Richie died with the mill, but only a piece of him did. He never found another job after that, and took to spending more time with his kid. Tommy took after both his parents and believed that he could have a good life if he earned it. He had the fading drive of his father and the sensibility of his mother, neither of which wanted him to be stuck here. And so he pushed himself to try and get out there. He did the best he could in school, took on odd jobs around Cornell to earn spare cash, and did all the usual things errant kids did with disposable income.

High school rolled around, and Tommy got that itch every kid in Cornell gets. The itch to abandon the town and never look back, to tell himself he'd [i]make it.[/i] His parents were behind him in that, even if his own dreams were built on what remained of theirs. He started spending more and more time away from home, feeling increasingly unhappy with the hand life dealt him. One night, he found a homeless guy doing card tricks for money on the street. Tommy emptied his pockets that night, absolutely fascinated by what the guy could do, and even learned how to do a few of them himself. It quickly became a fun hobby of his. A way to pass the time, wow people, and what teenage boy didn't thing it was cool?

Tommy didn't quite mesh with other kids his age the way he should have. All too often, he heard the whispers and gossip about how people were either getting out, or getting trapped. All too often, he'd sneak back into the house after a long night of teenage shenanigans just to catch his parents looking like their souls were snatched by paperwork on the kitchen table. On some of those nights, he just turned around and left again. Tommy tried to skirt around that sadness, but it stuck to him either way. He managed to turn it into anger on occasion, but it dragged him down all the same.

The day he finally managed to afford an old, beat-up, used car was one of the best days of his life. His parents were awfully curious [i]how,[/i] but it was easy to explain that he'd been working like a damn robot over the last two summers. They believed him, though they warned him about the insurance. He got his license, tossed a permit into the trash, and started [i]driving[/i] to school. He felt like he was somebody, like Tommy Bracken mattered. Most kids his age didn't have a car, but Tommy? Tommy found the American Dream. 

That feeling lasted a few days, and that was it.

One step on a mile high ladder, nine hundred and ninety-nine more to go. That was how Tommy felt [i]after[/i] he drove too and from school for a week. In the end, he was still in a dying town, he just didn't have to walk everywhere. And it wasn't like anyone really cared. Where was he going? Home? Yeah, so were they. When a certain party rolled around a few months later, Tommy was surprised he even got an invitation. But he showed up all the same, grateful for the thin veneer of belonging that it brought. He didn't drink, he wasn't walking home and he wasn't about to let a few of them do the same after drinking trashy beers. He just hung back without a lot of socializing, occasionally showing off a sweet card trick people didn't know he could do. 

Then the Pit opened its jaws wide open.

Tommy didn't really understand what was happening. One moment, someone was talking about a football game, and the next, the air was ripped in half. The ground was in two places at once, he was bleeding, and monsters were spilling in. Some guy whose name he didn't get was the cause of it, causing everyone to run in terror. Tommy had never felt that kind of terror, so potent that it made him dream of golden beasts in a city that never looked the same. Where most people stayed together and run in some semblance of a coherent group, Tommy was running into No Man's Land as if there were demons chasing after him. There was little time to question the golden trails of light weeping out of gashes in his skin like smoke, or the sounds of roaring that drowned out the screams. He was out like fly in the win.

His car was abandoned there by the warehouse. In the woods surrounding Cornell, he climbed into a tree and let his senses do what they would. He spent hours there, eventually calming down enough to feel a source of power coming off the deck of cards in his pocket. There was a warm knot of something in his chest, and he followed it like a thread. He saw visions of armies, coming together at the behest of people whose names he did not know. He saw them invoke names and weave strands of gold light into bestial shapes, [i]summoning monsters.[/i] It was a lot to take in, but he figured something out in time. 

He was a damn wizard, and he could conjure things like those visions.

When Tommy came out of the woods, back to other people who were getting their own bearings after the chaos, he was followed by monsters of his own making. He wanted answers, and he was going to get them.

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[color=#A79500][sub][b] Abstraction[/b][/sub][/color]
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[i]"Abracadabra, alakazam, and so on and so forth."[/i]

[indent][color=#A79500][b]TYPE  ⫻[/b][/color] Adept

[color=#A79500][b]ABSTRACTION ⫻[/b][/color] Gold Lux, Tommy's Channeler is a deck of cards.

[color=#A79500][b]ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION  ⫻[/b][/color] Tommy is a summoner who creates monstrous minions out of a mix of Gold Lux, the remains of other creatures, and sources of magic that he can get his hands on. These handcrafted summons are bound into the cards of his deck, and brought out when needed. 

[indent][b][color=a79500]SIX OF HEARTS: RAPTOR ⫻[/color][/b] The first summon Tommy created was made out of his own wounds. A glowing bird made from a mix of blood and raw Lux, the Raptor attacks with sharp claws and impeccable agility. When it is given a target, it will swoop in and out of close range and make itself as hard to pin down as possible, taking long swipes to bleed them dry.

[b][color=a79500]TEN OF CLUBS: PORTER ⫻[/color][/b] Using an old backpack as base materials, Porter is a four-legged pack mule no smaller than a bear. The woven creature resembles a mustelid, and its body unfurls at long seams. Porter can carry up to 150 pounds inside the pockets of its body before it starts to slow down. Anything stored within is transported to and from the Ten of Clubs when Porter is summoned or returned.

[b][color=a79500]NINE OF SPADES: WATCHER ⫻[/color][/b] A mirror from a pickup truck and a lot of dead branches became a beast of glassy twine, reminiscent of a coyote. Watcher doesn't move much, preferring to meander around an area designated by Tommy. It is smart enough to remember faces and detect signs of trouble, and [i]howls[/i] when alerted. The sound is loud, resonates with the Gold Lux coursing through its body, alerting Tommy no matter the distance. 

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[color=#A79500][b]LIMITS  ⫻[/b][/color] Tommy is not the sort of Gold Adept who fires and forgets. His summons have personality, a distinctness to them that doesn't begin when tapped or end when retired. For him, the things he creates are lasting and permanent, not simply transient. As a consequence of this, Tommy lacks the ability to improvise on the spot. He requires time to come up with a new summon for his deck, and different materials to create something new. All of his summons are built off of a scaffolding, meaning to make anything particularly flashy, he needs another Adept, a monster he can gut for spare parts, or perhaps an object of magical importance.

[color=#A79500][b]WEAKNESSES  ⫻[/b][/color] Tommy’s summons are inherently linked to his body and life force, not solely his Lux. Damage to a summon reflects as physical injuries—reopened wounds, joint or muscle damage, or even cardiac shock or unconsciousness if destroyed violently. Even in victory, his body sustains damage, and repeated losses cause long-term injuries that don’t heal naturally. The deck functions as a physical part of the abstraction. Damaging a card harms its summon: burns cause instability, tears create missing or deformed parts, and stolen cards enable enemies to misuse or control his creations. Tampering or damaging the deck can cause summons to appear in the wrong order or be incomplete. If too many cards are compromised, his Gold Lux locks completely, preventing summoning to prevent death. Summons embody the emotional and conceptual essence of their materials. Trauma, resentment, or beliefs in source components influence behavior over time. Intelligent or meaningful sources can resist control or subtly sabotage him, and people connected to those sources can psychologically interfere with the summons. The stronger the source, the greater the long-term risk.

Raptor is powered by Tommy’s blood and pain. Each attack reopens wounds, and prolonged use causes internal bleeding and shock. Blood manipulation disrupts Raptor, and restraining him causes severe chest pain. Destroying Raptor results in the loss of a meaningful memory, and repeated losses diminish his capacity to form attachments. Porter has a limited carrying capacity. Exceeding it causes violent structural failure, destroying items metaphysically. Porter experiences what it holds, making volatile or living items dangerous. If immobilized, Tommy’s body mirrors its restraint and weight. If Porter is destroyed while loaded, he suffers serious spinal injuries. Watcher’s howl assaults Tommy’s nervous system. Repeated alerts cause migraines, vertigo, seizures, and dissociation. Reflective environments cause confusion, while silence or sound suppression triggers uncontrollable howling. Destroying Watcher causes a temporary loss of facial recognition.

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[color=#A79500][sup][b] Other[/b][/sup][/color]
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[i]"Maybe I can conjure up a horse or something, when I run out of gas."[/i]

[indent]Tommy drives an old Mercury Cougar that used to collect dust in some old guy's garage.[/INDENT]
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