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Roman Grumpy Toad, King of Dirt

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The Fae







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G I L E M O R Y G A L A H A D
G I L E M O R Y G A L A H A D

Location: The Beach - Pacific Royal Campus
Welcome Home #1.020: Chicanery on the Shoreline

Interaction(s): //

Aurora and Harper exchanged greetings and replies and Gil found himself pleasantly distracted, in good company, good climate, and with plenty of exciting external stimuli. It was good to get back into the swing of things, find himself slipping back into the right frame of mind and the right way of talking, socializing. With the rest of Blackjack arriving - even Amma, offset in the distance but distinctly within earshot and sight-line, keeping tabs even if she deliberately separated herself, wasn't immune to the bond the team had been able to foster in the short year Gil had been attending the university; Katja, her towering stature exaggerated even further against Amma's significantly slighter frame, scooped up the dark woman with the ferocious affection she was notorious for. Gil's back ached in sympathy at the sight of the embrace - but he smiled warmly, appreciating the intention of the gesture, afforded even to those who placed themselves on the fringes of the team.

Any affection for the unlikely group of compatriots was quickly replaced with the sheer crippling weight of second-hand embarrassment. Lorcán and Aurora were quickly engaged in conversation - expected, and with all the normal amount of pointedly not discussing the obvious chemistry and electricity between the two - but this quickly unraveled as Rory - god bless him, with all the good intention in the world - injected what, Gil thought, was a surprisingly clever play to pitch the two dancing love-birds face-first into each other. Unfortunately, such a play was lost on the naive and too-nice, and all that really ended up happening was Rory pitching egg into his own face, and Lorcán pitching straight over the cooler that, again, had been delivered with Rory-brand good-vibes in mind. Gil couldn't help but pull his hands down his face as he watched the scene unfold in front of him and the rest of Blackjack, utterly powerless to stop any of it. Calliope, ever the aloof team mother, had watched the same events, and come to the same conclusion, and had helped Lorcán up before Gil had had time to react and interject himself for the same assistance.

He turned back to Harper and smiled, a well-practiced sparkle twinkling in his eyes, that 'don't worry, you're the only person here I want to talk to' look that he and Artie rehearsed for signings and red carpet interviews.
"It's times like these, Harp, that I remember how lucky I am to literally be in three places at once."
With that, one after the other, two perfect-replica Gil's stepped forwards from the original himself, a shimmer in the air around all three as matter and HZEs rearranged themselves at Gil's will into new forms.
"Gentlemen." The three said to each other, simultaneously, the overlapping identical voices creating a strange echoing harmony.

2"Harper," Gil2 said, maintaining the smile and giving a polite nod to Harper, Gil3, and Gil. He went to Lorcán, helping him brush sand from his back and kicking ice away into the far-sand. He gently swiped the seltzer from Lorcán's hand, winking as he did so - they both knew the red-cheeked young man didn't really want it - and scooped an orange soda from the freshly-chilled cooler instead, thrusting it into Lorcán's open hand with one arm, while the other swung around Lorcán's shoulder and they gently stepped away from the group's earshot, head lowering as Gil2 began to offer what he thought sounded like sage advice, and hoped would be the catalyst to Lorcán just being frank with his feelings.3"Ms. Baxter," Gil3 said, maintaining the smile and giving a polite nod to Harper, Gil2, and Gil. He went to Rory and Calliope, collecting a beer for himself and an energy drink for Rory, seeking to rally behind his well-intentioned friend and hoping that he and Calliope could streamline the plan somewhat and help Rory in his ever-quest to help other people. And perhaps, in the process, help himself - don't think Gil hadn't noticed how Rory looked at Haven sometimes. Or Katja. Or Mei. Or even Banjo - not that Gil had any problem with that direction of things, but Banjo, of all the eligible bachelors around campus?. Hey big guy, maybe pick a lane and let other people pass, hunk.
"And fortunately, that lets me remain here with you, Elf-Eyes," said Gil, keeping that same smile plastered across his face, gesturing loosely to the sketchbook that Harper clutched to her chest like Pandora's Box. "Are you most landscapes or portraits these days?"


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Amma:
"Well, you certainly have plenty to spare, don't you. Gil." chuckles, eyes Gil up and down.
"And yet there never seems to be enough of me to go around..." Gil replied, offering a subtle wink to go with his remark. It would take a special kind of obliviousness not to notice the way Amma looked him, very deliberately, up and down.

Katja:
bear hug for both Gil and Harper.
“I missed seeing all of you.”
“It’s been so long, we have so much to discuss. And so much to look forward to of course! Like the dance! Have the two of you found someone for the dance yet?”
"And you, Kat, though I can't say my spine can agree." He joked, giving Katja a playful shove that felt like pushing a brick wall, and hurt his wrist before Katja even budged a nanometer. "As for the dance, no partner yet. You've gotta keep your options open, y'know? Besides, I'd hate to disappoint any die-hard fans" He grinned, playing the question off like good-natured banter, but there was a knife's edge of truth; he would genuinely have to discuss the optics of a Capital-D 'Date' with Artie, ruminate on the implications of being 'off-the-market'. Gil was well-aware of what particular corners of Tumblr and the website formally known as Twitter could get like these days.

Harper:
"To be honest, I haven't given much thought to the dance yet, I've been so focused on other things that it kind of slipped my mind."

Rory:
Rory looked between his two close friends, smile long gone. "I... I was just trying to give Lorcán a little push, and see if Ro was interested in going to the dance at all." Rory finished shaking the drink and flicked the top of the shaker open, pouring its contents into a solo cup before handing it over to Calli. "Now Mei is making fun of me, Rora and bro seem upset... I really fucked this one, didn't I?" He grabbed the energy drink from Gil2, cracking it open as he waited for yet another lesson from those two.

timeskip to evening

Lorcán:
“Alright gentle-dudes and lady-brahs, where does everyone see themselves once they graduate?”
“I think I just want to take things slow, on my own time after graduation, y’know? Been tossed around by wave after wave, it’d be nice to just float and see where the current takes me.”

Haven:
"I'm hoping to volunteer for the U.S. Forest Service this summer, before I start my career."
"It depends on how friendly they are with hypes, but there has to be at least one Ranger out there that will accept me."
"If I go, feel free to visit me in the states, Lorcán. The American National Parks are gorgeous."
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G I L E M O R Y G A L A H A D
G I L E M O R Y G A L A H A D

Location: The Beach - Pacific Royal Campus
Welcome Home #1.040: First-Date Certified

Interaction(s): All //

Amma made Gil nervous, but not nervous enough not to dance dangerously close in flirting. He certainly recognised the short chuckle she proffered, as well as the lingering, deliberate sweep of her gaze up and down his body. He smirked, not un-used to this kind of attention, never getting tired of it regardless.
"Well, you certainly have plenty to spare, don't you. Gil."
"And yet there never seems to be enough of me to go around..." Gil replied, offering a subtle wink to go with his remark.

Further flirtation was summarily interrupted by Katja's signature greeting; she scooped both Gil and Harper up, one arm each still far more than necessary, and the three squeezed together in a blend of skin and smells on this sunny afternoon. Harper shifted in the embrace - was that her hand brushing against his? - and Gil sympathised, feeling like the well-loved puppy in a toddler's arms, well-meaning but uncomfortable. He decided to hold to his breath and appreciate the intention of the gesture, rather than its physical consequences.
“I missed seeing all of you.” Katja said, her strong voice amplified by its proximity to Gil's ear, before she set them both down and regarded the pair with warm eyes, an arm resting on each of their shoulders. “It’s been so long, we have so much to discuss. And so much to look forward to of course! Like the dance! Have the two of you found someone for the dance yet?”
"And you, Kat, though I can't say my spine can agree." He joked, giving her a playful shove that felt like pushing a brick wall, and hurt his wrist without Katja even budging a nanometer. Harper answered her before he could.

"To be honest, I haven't given much thought to the dance yet," she admitted, her voice soft but steady. "I've been so focused on other things that it kind of slipped my mind."
“I feel you on that one, sis. We’ve got a lot of things on our plates, so I totally understand forgetting about it. You shouldn’t worry though. A cute girl like you will find a date in no time! If you don’t then I’ll take you to the dance, and you don’t want that now do you?” Katja said with a playful wink.
“Thanks, Kat,” Harper replied with a short laugh. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, but honestly, I'm not too worried about finding a date. There's more to life than dances, right?”

There was a gap, and Gil took the opportunity to insert himself.
"I'm the same; no partner yet. You've gotta keep your options open, y'know? Besides, I'd hate to disappoint any die-hard fans." He grinned, playing the question off like good-natured banter, but there was a knife's edge of truth; he would genuinely have to discuss the optics of a Capital-D 'Date' with Artie, ruminate on the implications of being 'off-the-market'. Gil was well-aware of what particular corners of Tumblr and the website formally known as Twitter could get like these days. He couldn't risk hurting his public image this close to graduation and his return to LA. He couldn't go back to Bristol to be stifled and smothered and moulded into some number-crunching suit.

In his peripheral vision, Harper shifted her weight from one side to the other. Gil didn't pay it much attention.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll make the right choice when the time comes, Gil," Harper said, offering a small smile. “As for me, I’ll probably just go with the flow. And… right now I think I could use a drink.”
Harper excused herself in the direction of Rory's cooler, and Gil suddenly felt very small beneath Katja's towering frame.
“Well, not everyone has the luxury of an adoring fanbase.” She said curtly, giving his shoulder a forceful pat that appeared friendly but felt admonishing. Her gaze had the subtlest hint of a reprimanding frown to it. “But I’m sure you’ll manage.”

And then Katja excused herself as well, and Gil turned to realise Amma had wandered away too, and he was alone.



As the day moved on and the sun began to wane in the sky, Blackjack drifted on and off the beach, eventually reconvening around a campfire built by Lorcán. One by one, the members of the team settled themselves in a ring around the roaring embers, Gil himself shuffling a little closer to push his hands towards the heat; as the sun set across the oceanic horizon, he regretted not returning to the dorms, as some of the others had, to fetch something a bit warmer. He'd buttoned up his shirt, the time for artful display of abs far gone, but still found the evening chill worming its way to his bones.

Lorcán, ever the social glue between much of the team, prompted the evening's discussion, opting for that most nerve-racking of topics: the future.
“Alright gentle-dudes and lady-brahs, where does everyone see themselves once they graduate?”

Calliope had sat down next to Gil, and then Banjo had inserted himself between them. Gil ignored them both - not the malicious, deliberate kind, just simple neutrality, their appearances here as unremarkable as anyone else's - though he did notice Banjo staring and grinning at him for an extended amount of time. Gil was used to Banjo mouthing off, or playing pranks, or finding more general, ostentatious ways to irritate the group; he wasn't used to Banjo just being plain weird. He cleared his throat and shuffled an inch or two closer to the fire, wondering if Calliope found Banjo's behaviour as odd as everyone else did. Probably not. She didn't strike Gil as having the patience for it if she did.

Banjo-brand peculiarity was quickly forgotten as the question circled the bonfire, each member of Blackjack offering their hopes and dreams into the flame. Gil noticed Aurora falling asleep on Lorcán's shoulder, and hoped his copy had offered some sage advice earlier that afternoon. He'd have to catch himself up separately with his friend later on. To his side, Rory and Haven also began cosying up, and between the pair of pairs and the twinkling sunset sparkling off the sea, Gil felt a sharp pang shoot through him, his hand reflexively reaching for his phone and his mind brought back to those damning messages from Elenora he'd gotten that morning. It was not an unfamiliar pang; but while less frequent than it had once been, it had lost none of its potency.

He found himself tuning back in as Amma thoroughly deflated the collective blue-sky optimism of his teammates with her 6-feet-under realism. There was a lull in the conversation, the mood thoroughly murdered. He cleared his throat.
"Well, as long as they still cast me when I get back to L.A., I think I can put up with the rest." He said, trying to flash a smile and bring levity back to the evening. "You're looking at the next official spokesperson for Cachou Lajaunie, packing a liquorice wallop for fresh beyond freshness. Providing I can get a weekend release, of course. And after graduation, Hollywood is my oyster."
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G I L E M O R Y G A L A H A D
G I L E M O R Y G A L A H A D

Location: The Chimera's Lair - Pacific Royal Campus
Welcome Home #1.058: Bullet: dodged.

Interaction(s): //

The piercing alarm from his phone, buzzing away on the carpet floor, woke Gil sharply from what he was sure had been a very pleasant dream, even as the details dissipated from memory like smoke. He lay on his back, duvet tossed and thrashed and askew across his half-naked frame, taking long hard blinks as the morning sun drifted through half-closed curtains, dust motes twinkling in the beams. He drew long, deep breaths, willing himself to wake up. The phone blared and buzzed, and eventually he pulled himself up at the waist to sit on the edge of his bed, duvet slipping off completely and rumpling on the floor. He lent down to scoop up his phone and shut off the alarm, rubbing his eyes with the back of his other hand as the light from the screen forced his still-sleepy eyes to squint.

Seconds later he was up and scrambling for clothes. He'd overslept, having gotten in later than expected from the beach - despite Amma's outburst, he was determined not to end the final night of freedom before the year began in earnest end on such a soured note, and so he'd assisted in emptying out Rory's cooler with not only the dwindling members of Blackjack, but also any late-night beach-goer who'd wandered close enough.

Now, however, he was in danger of missing breakfast before the opening ceremony for the academic year, and he was well-aware that manual labour would feature heavily in the days' agenda; not only the trials themselves, but also the construction and setup of the trials, on which senior students were relied upon for their assistance, and he needed to be well-fed if he and Gils 2 & 3 were going to be of use. Speaking of...
Gil finished pulling on his uniform in a hurry, getting the bulk of it on - trousers, shirt, socks and shoes, tie - before he shimmered and a similarly-scruffy Gil stepped forth from him.

Bleary-eyed, hungry, and ever-so-slightly hungover, Gil immediately recognised this exertion as a mistake, feeling instantly woozy and stumbling backwards; his heel hit the foot of the bed and he tumbled onto the bed, hand pushed against his forehead as vision swam and nausea washed over him. Gil2, though also bleary-eyed, hungry, and ever-so-slightly hungover, remained standing, and proffered a hand to Gil when he looked up again, dragging a hand down his face. He took it, and Gil helped himself to his feet again.

As Gil2 made his way out of the dorm and toward the mess hall to collect a sizeable breakfast, Gil threw on his blazer and took a couple minutes to himself to toss a far-too-hot espresso shot (with more sugar than many would find acceptable) down his gullet, ignoring the burning in his throat to focus instead on the blossoming warmth in his belly. Steeling himself against the coming day, he took one last once-over of himself in the mirror, used a single hand to tousle his hair (still smelling of smoke from last night's bonfire) just-so, and went to follow himself down to breakfast.



Gil stood outside the main doors of the Mess Hall, quietly chatting with Rory and passing the usual good mornings to whoever walked by, awaiting Gil2 to return arms laden with pastries and fried protein. The hall was abuzz with activity, the anticipation of the semester's first proper day thrumming through the student body, freshman and senior alike. He was considerably un-prepared for the arrival of Lorcán - or, more specifically, the arrival of Lorcán's hands.

He startled as Lorcán slapped his and Rory's arses with considerable fervour, and he was sure that had Gil2 been stood here, and he collecting breakfast in the Mess Hall, his friend may have traumatized himself and several other students by catalyzing Gil's sudden disintegration into nothingness with little more than an overly-fond physical greeting. As it was, Gil turned around, craning his neck for his copy in the mess hall as he did, and smiled as best he could as the three friends greeted each other, once again, as academic peers.

“Hopefully, you dudes don’t have to sit down too soon, but man, bros, you missed out on some legen-lactose heavy’-dary swells this mornin’. I am totally going to get you both out on a board before we graduate.”
Lorcán fumbled with his belt, dropping his trousers to the ground in the process, and Gil was silently thankful that he clearly wasn't the only one struggling with this particular morning.
"If you can score me a board for a day, I'll be there, bro." Rory replied, in typical 'up-for-anything' Rory fashion, and Lorcán grinned in return, turning his gaze expectantly to Gil.
"I think I'll let another Gil give it a trial run first. Wouldn't want to damage the money-maker in an errant wave." He said, offering a hand for Lorcán to shake, greeting him warmly as other members of Blackjack began drifting in.

On cue, Gil2 pushed open the doors of the mess hall with his back, turning as he came through to reveal two well-stocked trays balanced precariously between two mug-bearing arms. Steam drifted from the rims, and Gil felt himself coming alive just from the smell of the tea within. The trays, meanwhile, held croissants, a couple chocolate pains, a handful of bacon rashers each, two hard-boiled eggs (pre-peeled), and a banana. Gil carefully helped Gil2 with the mugs and trays, and the two gorged themselves, supping down great glugs of sugary tea between bites of their respective breakfasts.



By the time Blackjack arrived at Chimera's Lair, both Gils were thoroughly sated and slaked, and felt far more prepared for the day with full stomachs and slow-boil caffeine beginning to circulate. Gil2 departed - he had no need to sit around for the speech, and would instead use the time to fulfill Gil's community contribution obligations - but Gil himself filed into the stadium alongside his teammates, fidgeting and shifting in his seat as he tried, without success, to find a comfortable position in the hard-backed plastic chairs. He paid little attention, clapping when others clapped, whooping when others whooped, and only eyed the Foundation staff momentarily until their identities were confirmed; of little consequence, or so he thought.

He stopped fidgeting and found his attention laser-focused and breath hitching as Jim dropped the bombshell on degree accreditation; wasted years and futile plans cascaded in front of his eyes, vision swimming with images of scripts being burnt and casting calls passing him by - and then Jim followed up and said,
"our degree programs in the engineering, law and medical fields,"
and he breathed a heavy sigh of relief and sunk backwards into his chair, reassured his programme had not been set askew by the sudden upset. He could feel his phone sitting heavy in his pocket - he would certainly need to discuss the implications with Artie, and there was no guarantee that invalidations wouldn't stretch further into PRCU's course offerings and dismantle the university's credibility entirely - but, for now, at least he was safe.

Not that he could say the same for many of his teammates, and their reactions spoke for themselves in this regard. Gil felt himself shrinking into his seat, not wanting to be noticed or singled-out for how he had dodged such a mighty blow. This announcement would derail a strong majority of the team, and he wouldn't blame any one of them for spiraling out; he thought back to only the night previous, the twelve of them gathered around the warm glow of the bonfire beside the ocean, spooling out their futures into the fire. Only one of them hadn't indulged in such optimism.

Gil heard her laugh, and the feeling of a full stomach was suddenly distinctly unwelcome.

Had she known?

It didn't do to dwell on it. Even if she had, what use would knowing have been? To any of them?

Gil watched each of his teammates make their exits, each bearing a weight upon them he couldn't know. There was an odd sense of remorse bubbling up within him, a survivor's guilt shouldered for people who were still very much alive. A future that had seemed so attainable and assured less than merely eighteen hours ago had been suddenly and viciously ripped away from beneath them.

He'd need to catch up with Lorcán, undoubtedly; Rory too, but the pair were away from him, and Aurora had gone after the former hurriedly - her compassion was far better suited for this sensitive moment that Gil's brand of superficial charm and 'easy-breezy' philosophy. The plateau would be better, when they could talk without looking at each other, focusing on the construction instead of connection.

As the crowd of students, no longer buzzing with anticipation but now dour and deflated, began to filter out of the stadium, Gil found himself simply washed along amidst them, sympathizing for those affected, but clinging onto the future that was still within reach.

In his pocket, his phone buzzed, and he fished it out to look at the screen. Artie was calling. Gil hung up, and slowly made his way toward the fleet of vehicles ready to ferry students across to the Southern Plateau.



The sun bore down, now high in the sky as the day moved through the morning and into midday and the afternoon proper. The Gils alighted from the Minotaur, aware they were on the second-wave and therefore in danger of being late again; still, the pair took the time to stretch out, looking reminiscent of an Olympic swimming duo as their movements inadvertently synchronised. Shaking off the last of the stiffness, Gil shimmered again, and Gil3 stepped forth; they all three figured to save time and multiply now, rather than wait to be asked. Gil lifted his bag onto his shoulder as his copies forged ahead, trekking to the campsite.

Up ahead, the trio could see a neatly-arranged ring of tents, pre-fabricated and already setup, positioned with care and forethought around the firepit. It felt communal, village-like; even the tents' openings were all organised inwards. Past the tents Gil could see a similar cluster of tents, and wondered which team they were situated near; then, in the noon sun, there was a paired glimmer of rich orange and shock-white blonde, and Gil knew it was Firebird. That pair of heads couldn't be anyone other than Alyssa and Luce, inseparable since their return from an extended gap-year after the Hyperion incident. Alyssa was a redhead and a stunner, an all-smiles socialite down to the hilt; Luce was even-tempered, measured in her reactions and words, criss-crossed with scars and in possession of a gaze equally haunted and haunting. He wondered how Firebird were handling the morning's news.

His own teammates, meanwhile, had gathered already, and were busying themselves with the important task of arranging bunking partners before the evening descended and a hard day's work would cut into their patience. There were obvious obvious pairings - namely Banjo and Calliope - but also subtle obvious pairings: Lorcán and Aurora, Rory and Haven, that sort of thing. It was like co-ed bunking was mandated. Speaking of...
"So, Barnes... you want to sleep together tonight?"

If Haven didn't choke on the water, Gil choked on the air in her stead.
2"Smooth." Gil2 said, fishing a spare water bottle of his own as the copies congregated with the original.
3"We should really go and help bail him out. One of us, at least." Replied Gil3. Gil himself simply held up a hand.
"No no. He needs to learn. Besides, it's more entertaining this way...and probably a better gauge if Haven actually reciprocates."


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Lorcán stormed off, Aurora followed him.
Calliope went to bathroom to freak out, comes back collected, stood with Banjo.
Amma had a chat with the Foundation staff, and then left for the dorms.
Rory heads out of stadium.
Harper leaves with Haven.
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A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S
A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S
________________________________________________________________________________________
H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y || T B D
__PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION || TBD
__SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION || TBD
__POWER SCALE || TBD
__THREAT CLASSIFICATION || TBD

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Vivamus at mi mi. In imperdiet porta dolor, at fermentum nulla commodo eu. Suspendisse volutpat et ex tempor suscipit. Nullam tincidunt at nunc vel auctor. Donec venenatis, nisl nec fringilla varius, massa quam porttitor turpis, sed bibendum purus sem id risus. Nullam scelerisque lectus eget diam gravida malesuada. Maecenas consectetur est ac sollicitudin congue. Maecenas interdum erat dignissim lectus sodales, nec ultrices neque egestas. Integer convallis lacus at consequat volutpat.

L I M I T A T I O N S || T B D

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Vivamus at mi mi. In imperdiet porta dolor, at fermentum nulla commodo eu. Suspendisse volutpat et ex tempor suscipit. Nullam tincidunt at nunc vel auctor. Donec venenatis, nisl nec fringilla varius, massa quam porttitor turpis, sed bibendum purus sem id risus. Nullam scelerisque lectus eget diam gravida malesuada. Maecenas consectetur est ac sollicitudin congue. Maecenas interdum erat dignissim lectus sodales, nec ultrices neque egestas. Integer convallis lacus at consequat volutpat.

W E A K N E S S E S || T B D

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Vivamus at mi mi. In imperdiet porta dolor, at fermentum nulla commodo eu. Suspendisse volutpat et ex tempor suscipit. Nullam tincidunt at nunc vel auctor. Donec venenatis, nisl nec fringilla varius, massa quam porttitor turpis, sed bibendum purus sem id risus. Nullam scelerisque lectus eget diam gravida malesuada. Maecenas consectetur est ac sollicitudin congue. Maecenas interdum erat dignissim lectus sodales, nec ultrices neque egestas. Integer convallis lacus at consequat volutpat.


Hypes:
Molecular control shape-shifter
Friction control
Momentum/kineticism
Grafting-based biokinesis
body has developed a golden alloy that can be controlled around the body and turned into objects/weapons
animal transformation, both partial (hybrid) and full

Villains:
Gas generation
Flesh-construct hive-mind

Supernaturals:
Dispersed consciousness gaia-form
Afterlife/Limbo travel
Magic-based gunslinger (a Jäger who’s survived since 1880’s?)
consciousness bound to a weapon, that dominates the wielder
dragon bound to mortal form, slowly breaking out over centuries and regaining power
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Two men in Arthurian medieval knight-y times are transporting a massive black stone box/coffin/sarcophagus/etc with the promise that its delivery will halt some massive war/all war/bring peace on earth.

Journey is waylaid by those wishing to steal the box/prevent its delivery/take credit themselves for its delivery.

Scene: one knight says they will be happy to see the back if war once their mission is over. The other knight derides them for believing their mission is what they were told it is. The box isn’t a means to stop war but to control it. War is profitable.

Scene: a blind knight approaches and asks the two knights to come with him. They fob him off and pretend it is their duty to the box that they cannot.
“as long as my eyes are upon the casket it shall not move”
“Little comfort from a blind man”
Blind knight removes his blindfold and actually takes his eyes out and places them atop the casket. The casket can’t be moved. The knights can’t move the eyes either
“They are heavy with the weight of what they have seen”

Scene: set upon by bandits, who try to open the casket, though they are warned against it as terrible things befall those who try.
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FUCKIN BB CODE
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G I L G A L A H A D // H A R P E R B A X T E R
G I L G A L A H A D // H A R P E R B A X T E R

Location: The Chimera's Lair - Pacific Royal Campus
Welcome Home #1.074: An Interesting Proposition

Interaction(s): @Qia//Harper


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"And Cut! Great job people - that's lunch!"

Gil and Gil2 came apart, releasing each other from where they'd been grappling for the scene. In a series of staggered, mirrored movements they patted each other down, smoothed out their clothes, and reset their hair, before shaking hands, complimenting each other on the success of the scene, and turning as a pair toward the food bar. A crew hand promptly arrived to retrieve the prop-gun that had been integral to the shot, and Gil2 handed it over first, before it crumbled in the crew member's grasp; they chuckled politely, and then looked to the other Gil, who passed another prop over. This one also crumbled, and the chuckle this time was slightly less polite, and then Gil ceded the actual prop. The crew hand took it away, but not without a few moment's pause and a few sharp raps against the prop to verify it was as authentic as it looked.

Around them, beyond the set, the air began to buzz with chatter as cast and crew rushed to lunch, and the locals lingering around the perimeter of the set re-started their own conversations and clamour now that shooting had paused. Crestwood Hollow had been on-location for 10 days so far, and as word got around the town after their arrival, the crowds had at first dramatically swelled. After a week or so the novelty had worn off, and it was now only the committed (or un-employed) fans who remained; saying this was still a disservice to the size of their impromptu audience, however, and many of the crew had expressed a surprised gratitude for how popular the show actually seemed to be, judging by the numbers still peering in from the edge after the initial groundswell had returned to their regular hum-drum.

They'd been shooting the two-parter mid-season finale, that pushed Elwood Dowd - Gil's on-screen character - into the climactic second-half of his character arc for that season, revealing the true identity of his so-far anonymous stalker and harasser: his very own evil twin, intent on reifying a combined downfall.
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