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#1.05: TBC
Earth-93913003, Gotham City


GCPD Detective Arnold Flass leaned against the roof of his car as a cigarette hung from his mouth, trailing smoke up into the night air in front of his five'o'clock-shadow face. He ran a hand through his hair, greased and pressed back, and then took a drag from the cig. His eyes, muddy and narrowed, never wavered. There, across the empty and weed-ridden forecourt of the abandoned Gotham Bay meat packing plant, was the reason for his un-scheduled arrival here tonight: a busted-open door, hanging loosely on its hinges, the chain meant to secure it instead broken, warped, and discarded on the concrete ground in the entryway.


Flass getting out of car at meat packing plant to investigate - silent alarm has been tripped, Flass is on duty so sent by Cranston to check it out. Place should be closed for the night and is used for their drug ring operation so who's breaking in? Flass has an idea, but doesn't want to entertain it. Stubs his cigarette out and heads on in, pistol drawn.

Encounters the Bat. Ambush, scuffle, Flass actually manages to fight back, eventually overpowered and knocked out. Wakes up restrained and hooked onto the carcass conveyor; the Bat interrogates.

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do some research on the fae
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Poe running away from the suited/lab-coated people in the labyrinth, endless corridors etc etc

crashes through the door ahead of the group as seen in collab post - mistakes Tachyon's white clothes for more lab-wear, scared of Mothman convinced it's a nightmare conjured up by the labyrinth, 'supported' by how odd it is to see Quinn as well at all of 11-inches-high, runs from them in fear. they chase, poe's getting more wound up, door manifests and she just takes it out of sheer panic - they end up following. entire crew crashes through into alcatraz ju-v.

time skip, cut to poe in the room, trying to figure out what's going on and handle this most recent development. she's already forgotten the other aegis officials she locked away, can't remember where she's come from or why, just knows she's here through the labyrinth (again). quinn shouts and winds her up, ultimately she snaps and yells back in tears.
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Poe's legs burnt as she continued full-pace down stone hallways, fleeing something she was certain, but had already forgotten what, already sealed that away in sheer unconscious trauma-response. Now she was just running, carried by specific but unknowable fear, and the Finite Passage was more than happy to spool open further paths and corridors in front of her, quick to provide further space to put between her and whatever she had left, distantly, fading, behind her. She rounded corners and bounced off stone, seeding little fruiting bruises that she'd poke and wonder and wince at over the coming days, but all was a blur in favour of just running.

Something sharp pulled at her like catching the thread of your sweatshirt on a thorn and she whirled on the spot; in front of her, where there had been none previously, was an innocuous wooden door, smooth and walnut-brown, with a polished brass handle set above a polite but sturdy keyhole. Poe paused; she looked to her right, down the corridor she'd come from - endless gray, rock curving away to the great black maw at the edge of the world. She looked to her left, up the corridor left before her - faintly, in the distance, she thought she could see wall, but it was impossible to tell if that was an end or simply a corner. She looked back at the door, and found she was already grasping the handle within her white-knuckled fist. Utterly disconnected, she watched herself twist the knob and push through door, trading one corridor for another.

There were things on the other side, and all the mystery of the door's appearance was subsumed by a rapid resurgence of the fear that had been spurring her sprint.

girl in white, feels familiar, clinical, hospital, endless prodding and poking, needles and saws and tests and I'm running but running from what, running from that, can't remember what or why just run run RUN

creature is huge and monstrous and an insect, afraid of bugs afraid of monsters, can't be real lives in the labyrinth wants to trap you wants to destroy you, wants to keep you here to fade away and die be forgotten behind stone walls. run. don't let them close around you. run. run.

small girl is a joke, look how little you are Poe, look how pointless you are Poe, look how insignificant and lost you are Poe, just like a child, like a fairy like an imp, like a little girl who hasn't grown up doesn't know herself doesn't know where she is or where she was or where she's going. keep running. what will you find. you will find nothing. you are nothing. just a little girl, crying in the deep dark.

Poe turned away and ran and she realised, with a terrible deep fear, that the strangers followed. But Poe was fast; this was her mind, her labyrinth, and even if she didn't know it, it knew her and it gave her paths, corners, a great winding circuit to lose her pursuers but by the grace of god they were fast and they were cunning - and Poe wasn't sure they were real; and if they weren't, then they were her too, as much as the labyrinth was, and she'd never lose them. How do you run through yourself, from yourself?

Panic climbed in Poe in a recursive pattern, feeding into itself to amplify the terror, and she could feel her vision fading as the adrenaline and hyperventilation and sheer emotional overload threatened to blot her out completely; finally, mercifully, the Finite Passage threw her a bone: another door, picked for no discernible reason, and she crashed through it like a girl with no other options. The last things through her mind before she passed out completely were the small girl holding the door behind her and noticing she had wings, and the realization that the other side of the door lead not to more endless stone corridors, but to a bright, well-lit rec-room.


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Poe had had little time since coming back around following her - and her apparent compatriots' - latest impromptu trip through the Finite Passage, but she'd been caught up on the basics during her escort from the facility's infirmary to her erstwhile living quarters, a practical but comfortable two-person dorm room, surprisingly well-equipped despite the obvious unexpected nature of her arrival. They'd tumbled out of the labyrinth into San Francisco, specifically the AEGIS junior facility built from the once-crumbling walls of Alcatraz penitentiary itself. Said facility had, that same day, welcomed a new set of 'attendees', who'd apparently already managed to cause their fair share of dramatics during their still short-lived tenure; the arrival of Poe and the others was just the feather in the proverbial cap, and administration at that point had decided they'd quite had enough and quickly enforced a curfew, remanding everyone back to their dorms.

With where they were solved, the next obvious question was where they'd come from. Poe had low expectations here, given her addled state of mind, but AEGIS had surprised her here, too; facial tracking and recognition worked quick these days it seemed, and the cameras spread across Alcatraz had flagged her to the as-yet-elusive Director mere minutes after she crashed to the floor in the rec-room. Poe Navidson, in one minute held at another AEGIS facility based in Washington, the next tumbling out of the air on the other side of the continent. They'd reached out to her previous facility with an urgency that usual bureaucratic belligerence could neither stifle nor deny, and determined her identity, the length and circumstances of her stay, and a basic rundown of what was understood of her nature; everything else would be issued soon, once collated and encrypted. Apparently, there was a sizeable file dating back many years on the young Ms. Navidson, and she was something of a unique case. Even more peculiar, two of the other arrivals - Quinn and Kaiden - were due to be welcomed at the same facility that very day. What bearing this had on their inclusion in Poe's journey wasn't bothered to be speculated on.

It was with a sense of great relief, though this would not be revealed to Poe herself, that her accidental extrication from one AEGIS complex had resulted in her internment at another.

Now, all Poe wanted to do was fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, and she had been assured that the the remaining doses circulating her system would allow her to do so with little difficulty; however, little difficulty was, at this present time, proving to be ironically prophetic. Quinn, her erstwhile roommate, was making a shocking amount of noise for one so unassuming in stature. Poe just curled up in her bunk, burying her face in her knees and pressing her forehead against the cool concrete wall, trying to block out the world around her and fall asleep.

"FUCK!" Quinn yelled, startling Poe and rattling her already-shaken mind. She looked over her shoulder, only to see the be-winged girl pointing at her, one aggressive and accusatory finger stretching in her direction. "It was you, wasn't it? With all that labyrinth bullshit! Come on now; conjure up one of those doors so I can get the hell out of here!"

Poe began to cry. She didn't know why she was here; she didn't know why she'd left the last place, didn't know if it was on purpose or by accident, if it was her choice or theirs, if it was the labyrinth's choice. And now, here she was, in a place she neither knew nor understood nor desired, trapped again with someone blaming and yelling, asking not only the impossible of her but the unfathomably terrifying. Go back into the labyrinth? Poe wished, every second with every fibre, that the labyrinth had never even existed - and this girl, this stranger, demanded of her to simply open it up - open herself up - and let her walk its paths in search of non-specific 'out'. For all Poe knew, the labyrinth was 'out', and that thought was more horrifying than any other.

"I can't." She answered, her voice smooth and calm and low, despite the steady stream of tears from her eyes as she sat up, turning around to face Quinn and her accusing finger. "It's not a place. It's not conjured. We didn't get here through a labyrinth. We got here through me, through my head! And I... I just want to sleep. Just for a bit." She faltered, unable to project strength any longer. "Please... I can't go back in there...".
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T E N - E I G H T Y
T E N - E I G H T Y
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"Handsomely charming, charmingly handsome, and the other one."
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C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T
C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T
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C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y
C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y
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Gilbert 'Gil' Emory Galahad
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June 13th, 2003 | 25 | Caucasian
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Single | Male | Heterosexual
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Bristol | Bristol | United Kingdom
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Lynx | Team 21 - Blackjack

C H A R A C T E R S T A T S
C H A R A C T E R S T A T S
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B U I L D || Athletic
H A I R C O L O U R || Brunette
E Y E C O L O U R || Steel Blue
H E I G H T || 5'10"
W E I G H T || 150lbs
S C A R S || None
T A T T O O S || None
P I E R C I N G S || None
O T H E R || N/A
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T
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Born in Bristol, England, Gil Galahad was raised an only child in a well-to-do household with loving parents who undeniably doted on him a little too much. As the first and only to his extended family, he was lavished attention by his mother, father, grandparents, aunts and uncles, and eagerly soaked up every drop; he became performative at an early age, theatrical, engineering a steady flow of praise and adoration. His parents encouraged this behaviour, pushing him into child dramatics programmes and extra-curricular classes, fostering a latent talent for acting in hopes it would crystallise into success.

Ultimately, adolescent narcissism paid off, and after a series of castings in small parts, a young teenaged Gil landed the titular co-lead role in the breakaway hit Romeo & Juliet & Zombies – the surprise of the summer, a throwaway zom-rom-com turned box-office smash hit – and was propelled into Hollywood gliterrati completely.

Bristol was left behind for the sparkling hills of LA, his parents seeking to capitalise on his silver-screen triumph and flip their beloved son into Hollywood’s hottest commodity. Success in this endeavour was mixed; the film was beloved and represented a significant payday for the Galahads, but performances in follow-up castings as Gil inevitably transitioned from adolescent heart-throb to adult acting were received with more mixed reviews, and slowly but surely the roles tapered off, and then the worst thing possible happened; Gil discovered he was Hyperhuman.

His agent, of a more pragmatic mind than his parents, rapidly changed tact; he knew Hollywood would throw Gil to the gutter, and was determined to get ahead of it. He sourced pro-Hype activist movements and progressive independent channels, pushing Gil’s emergence as a pseudo-‘coming out’ PR puff-piece – and it paid off, landing Gil a central role on the independently-produced Hyperhuman-focused soap opera, Crestwood Hollow. His character’s introduction was well-received by fans of the show, and his storyline – utilizing his powers to portray both sides of a classic (if melodramatic) ‘evil twin’ arc – saw hot-and-cold reactions, but brought his name some recognition again; Gil Galahad was a hot topic in Hyperhuman circles, and he loved being talked about again. When the storyline tapered off, and Gil’s character Put On A Bus, he segued into Pro-Hype activism, becoming the face of a new campaign for Hyperhuman actors, artists, and performers in general to be accepted into mainstream Hollywood.

All of this ultimately lead to PRCU as the pinnacle of PR moves; as a ‘notable’ Hyperhuman for PRCU to tout in their enrolment brochures, and a clear path for Gil to boost his legitimacy, it was a mutually beneficial arrangement, and Gil began his academic career in September 2027, enrolling in an Acting Major – emphasis in Stage & Screen – and a minor in Sociology, to keep the ‘activist’ image alive.

For the most part, Gil’s enjoyed his time at the academy, and he’s welcomed the adoration from devoted fans and co-activists; but for the most part, he’s just ready to get back to Hollywood and break ranks into the A-List once again.
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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
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H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y || Q U A N T U M R E P L I C A T I O N
__PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION || ESOTERIC
__SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION || EXPULSIVE
__POWER SCALE || 02
__THREAT CLASSIFICATION || Σ

Gil is able to store the atomic quantum-entangled ‘memory’ of any object he’s come into physical contact with, and is then able to manipulate matter and HZEs in his immediate vicinity to instantly reproduce a perfect replica of the object, as it was as the point of being ‘stored’. Gil’s most common use of this ability is storing himself, utilising the quantum nature of his power to copy not only his body, but his very consciousness, and produce a sentient, independent clone.

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

Gil’s replications are dependent on available matter, HZEs, and his own energy levels to produce copies, and the size and complexity of the object impacts his ability to replicate; too many copies of too complex an item in quick succession saps Gil’s own strength until he can’t manifest anymore without just as fast. Static material objects are easier, but at max current potential he can manage 2 full clones – Gil2 and Gil3 – but feels slightly woozy afterwards; any more just knocks him out.

Additionally, Gil can only store a single object at a time, can only store objects he’s made physical contact with, and while he can store and replicate himself at any time, doing so ‘overwrites’ any currently-stored item. Gil’s clones are also bereft of powers themselves, unable to manipulate HZEs in the same way, so they can’t create their own clones – no recursive replication loops.

Gil’s clones are able to self-sustain indefinitely, but they require sufficient nourishment to do so – roughly 1.5x the average caloric intake and healthy rest that a standard man of Gil’s size and stature would need. Without any sustenance or sleep, a clone can last 12-16 hours before crumbling, but grows exponentially weaker as time drags on.

Finally, Gil can store and copy other people, but due to the complexities of the human psyche, is unable to replicate their consciousnesses like he can his own – so he only produces unsettling, brain-dead versions of their bodies, which understandably upsets everybody and is best avoided.

W E A K N E S S E S ||

Gil’s copies aren’t enhanced in any way, and are only as effective or powerful as the original object is. Gil’s clones are independent copies of his consciousness, and while they’re aware they’re clones, they’re not necessarily automatically subservient to the original Gil.

All of Gil’s copies are essentially half-HZE constructs, so anti-hype tech and weaponry that disrupts HZE ions is not only effective at inhibiting Gil’s powers, but also acts like spreading salt on ice against anything he's replicated.

P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )
P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )
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Gil’s not super invested in PRCU as an academic institution and an opportunity for self-improvement as much as just using it to line him up for some stunt-casted roles in the growing pro-Hyperhuman movement within Hollywood, ultimately seeing the university as the best political move to claw back his waning fame and land in LA’s good graces again. He’s grateful for the place offered to him by the academy, but has taken it somewhat for granted and seen it as an easy ride thus far.

Gil’s aware of the Hyperion incident and the controversies surrounding it, and Alexandria’s move to purchase PRCU, but is ultimately of a ‘doesn’t affect me personally so I don’t care’ mentality. Sure, he’s pro-Hype, but his plan is to graduate, break big back into movies again, and never look back. He’s pro-Hype and (carefully) vocal of his activism while it serves a purpose, but he’s also aware that he can pass as ‘normal’ if he needs to drift away from this latest cultivated image.

Gil likes the university; he’s pleased to have the chance to graduate with an honest-to-god degree; he’s happy to support a progressive agenda, especially while the agenda favours him; but for Gil, it’s less about scholastic ambition, and more about making the smartest move to get rich and famous again. Will that attitude continue through the completion of his graduating year, or will he ‘go native’ and actually fall in with those he supposedly represents?
S K I L L S & T A L E N T S
S K I L L S & T A L E N T S
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S K I L L S
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CHARISMA, EMOTIONAL CONTROL || Gil's long been a handsome, charismatic young man, able to charm nearly any audience, winning friends and successfully networking among many crowds. At the same time, he's been able to keep a firm line on himself and his emotions, tailoring his emotive responses to the situation at hand to engineer the best results. It doesn't work for everyone - he's been accused of being 'fake' on more than one occasion - but for the most part, he's well-liked and easily sociable.

T A L E N T S
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ACTING, VENTRILOQUISM || Performing from a young age, as well as taking classes, extra-curricular electives, and coaching, have helped groom a knack for acting into an honest-to-god skill. He's not oscar-winning, but he's good enough to have been casted and seen some critical success. A side-talent, and one he doesn't upkeep with anywhere near the same kind of concerted effort, is ventriloquism, an old hobby that he started as a lonely only-child, and kept up when he realised he liked the sound of his own voice.
C H A R A C T E R A R S E N A L
C H A R A C T E R A R S E N A L
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A T T I R E
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S M A R T C A S U A L || Ever-ready for a pop-up interview, outside of PRCU uniform Gil likes to maintain a well-groomed wardrobe of suit jackets, stylish shirts, and a mix of slacks and jeans.

I T E M ( S )
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T H E E S S E N T I A L S || Given the nature of his powers, Gil likes to take advantage by keeping a couple of small essentials on his person for day-to-day use: cigarettes, matches, a business card, and a cash clip. Everything you might need to chat, flirt, or bribe your way out of a tricky situation.

T O O L ( S )
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B A C K - U P S || With no guarantee that useful items will be readily available when a potentially dangerous situation arises, Gil keeps a couple pragmatic back-up objects on his person in case he needs emergency access to something to copy, specifically for when schmoozing fails and he needs to defend himself - a self-defence folding knife, and a Glock G19 pistol (licensed, of course). Having practiced with both weapons, both in and out of PRCU, they're handy emergency items in a last-resort circumstance.

A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S
A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S
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P O S T C A T A L O G
P O S T C A T A L O G
_________________________________________________________
P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S
P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S
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E N T E R I N G I N T O Y O U R F I N A L Y E A R, W H A T A D V I C E D O Y O U H A V E T O A N E W S T U D E N T?

Gil knitted his brow, concentrating and looking like God's own prophet descending from Mount Sinai to dispense wisdom. Delivered with a practiced sincerity:
"Open yourself up to what the academy has to offer. There's so much more to learn here than just what your course has to teach you. Really take the time to better yourself, and it'll help you better the world around you as a result."

W H A T W E R E Y O U R A S P I R A T I O N S W H E N Y O U S T A R T E D H E R E? W H A T C H A N G E D, W H A T S T A Y E D T H E S A M E?

Gil broke into a wide smile, his eyes sparkling warmly. He looked like he'd been waiting to answer this question his whole life.
"I just wanted to be a better person, improve myself mentally, philosophically, emotionally - and let myself deliver some better performances for the fans! But as soon as I arrived, I knew this place was truly special, and I'm hoping when I leave I can open some minds to the potential this institution holds for everybody, Hyperhuman or not."

I F Y O U C O U L D M A K E O N E C H A N G E T O Y O U R T I M E A T P . R . C . U ., W H A T W O U L D I T B E?

Gil raised his eyebrows, sitting back in his chair and really taking the time - or appearing to take the time - to consider the full implications of the question. Finally, with a polite, wry smile, he leaned forwards again, pointing a playful finger.
"Open-campus day for the whole world. I think there's a lot of people out there who just don't know any better, and this incredible university has the capacity to show them different. With everything this community has accomplished on Dundas Island, it's the modern Eighth Wonder of the World - they just need to show it off!"
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MAYBE:

Friction control
Self-duplication imgur.com/a/jI5mC1W
item duplication
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Another time:

liquidity (inque)
scrap grafting - biokensis/cyborg combo
Momentum/kineticism
Forcefields
Stretcher
plant/earth form
gas generation
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Gil's agent, Arthur 'Artie' Ripley - Paul Rudd, with Moustache


Gil's co-star from Romeo & Juliet & Zombies, Elenora 'Elle' Baines - Victoria Pedretti, non-press pics only


Gil's dad, Andrew Galahad - Alan Rickman


Gil's mum, Rosemarie Galahad - Gilian Anderson
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S U P P O R T I N G C A S T
S U P P O R T I N G C A S T
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"It takes more than talent to stay ahead."
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R I P L E Y, A R T H U R ( A R T I E ) || T A L E N T A G E N T
R I P L E Y, A R T H U R ( A R T I E ) || T A L E N T A G E N T
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Gil's agent, who landed him his breakout role in Romeo & Juliet & Zombies and has since guided Gil's career with a steady hand and cunning eye. An actor of some success in his own right in younger days, he's stepped to the side-lines in the latter half of his career and brought his talents for PR and social manoeuvring to bear instead, being instrumental in every major beat along Gil's journey through Hollywood so far. While he's certainly not a completely morally-upstanding character, his intentions are well-meaning and ultimately he's just a driven, ambitious man, who's realised the careful direction of others is an easier path to success than triumphing through his own efforts.










Use as many or few of the above symbols as needed to balance this cell with the cell containing the image.

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"There are more important things out there than a good review."
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B A I N E S, E L E N O R A ( E L L E ) || E X C O - S T A R
B A I N E S, E L E N O R A ( E L L E ) || E X C O - S T A R
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Gil's co-star from Romeo & Juliet & Zombies, the titular heroine who delivered a more critically-successful performance than Gil, but didn't flourish under the sudden spotlight as Gil did and ultimately faded from Hollywood, moving back home to Ann Arbour, Michigan. She and Gil kept in touch, though, helped by fond memories of a brief romantic tryst on-set and for a short time afterwards; Elle's down-to-earth, honest approach was the only thing that cut through Gil's superficial schmooze, and he worries that no one else will understand or accept his true nature. She's still willing to lend an ear, take a phone-call, receive some texts, but finds, increasingly, that conversations are less two old friends catching up, and more Gil talking about himself - and she'd rather leave her time in LA behind her, where it belongs.






Use as many or few of the above symbols as needed to balance this cell with the cell containing the image.

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"Gil's a very talented boy. We're lucky to have him."
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G A L A H A D, A N D R E W || F A T H E R
G A L A H A D, A N D R E W || F A T H E R
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Gil's dad, an accountant working remotely from his Bristol home for a London law-firm, but with a theatrical history of his own - in his younger days he performed in a series of theatre shows across the South of England, and this on-stage confidence is likely where Gil gets his dramatic leanings from. He's proud of Gil's success, especially the ways he's been able to take advantage of his Hyperhuman nature for further opportunities, but does worry that it may still all come crashing down, and Gil's chosen academic path with PRCU doesn't necessarily offer him the fall-back that Andrew himself had with accounting - on either his choice of degree, or his choice of institution.













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"Whatever happens, he'll always be the star of my home."
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G A L A H A D, R O S E M A R I E || M O T H E R
G A L A H A D, R O S E M A R I E || M O T H E R
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Gil's mum, a kept woman between Andrew's sizeable salary and Gil's generous royalty checks. An intelligent and fierce woman in her own right, she keeps active within her local community and is well-read in Hyperhuman literature following Gil's emergence. There is an amount of restlessness that comes from her circumstances, but she's not ungrateful enough to begin to complain about her position, and is instead thankful to have a loving husband, a talented son, and the freedom to pursue her own passions.














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R E L A T I O N S H I P S H E E T
R E L A T I O N S H I P S H E E T
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NEUTRAL || FRIENDS || BEST FRIENDS || § TENSE § || CRUSH || ENEMIES
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"Sometimes you can be a little too passionate."
FRIENDS
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R O T H, L O R C Á N || F R I E N D S
R O T H, L O R C Á N || F R I E N D S
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"I like Lorcán; I like his passion, his zeal - he's a true believer. Guy wants to improve everything for everybody and it's hard to deny that kind of ardour for a good cause. But there's an undeniable naivety - and it's not Lorcán's fault - that comes with his kind of upbringing. You grow up in a utopia built specifically for your kind, you develop a blind spot for the real world, and boy-howdy does this guy have one hell of a wake-up-call waiting for him - if he hasn't already started cottoning on."











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Dad:
>Morning champ, have a great start to your final year. Looking forward to graduation ceremony.
>thought anymore on that internship offer next summer? Great way to get your foot in the door.

Mom:
>have a wonderful first day back darling ! We’re so proud of you
>lots of kisses!

Artie:
>got some commercial offers for you kid. Worth having a look
“Any scripts?”
>one thing at a time, Gil. Graduate first. You can take the weekend for an ad. Bigger projects need proper space.

Elle:
“Will I see you at graduation end of the year?”
>I don’t know if I can make the trip yet, but I’ll try :)
“I can fly you out. We can take the weekend back to LA! Artie’s lining up some work for me already”
>sure
>maybe you should come visit Ann arbour
>could be nice to slow down a bit
“I don’t know if I’ll have time between filming, but I’d love to see you”
>maybe some other time then. when you’re less busy. Have a great day
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Working Hyperhuman Artists & Thespians.
AKA
W.H.A.T.
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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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The Fae:
Aka fairies, fay, fair folk, faeries, fey.

Roots in disparate European folklore: Celtic, Slavic, Germanic, French.
Pagan deities, spirits of the dead, ‘demoted’ angels and demons, precursors to Mankind, or spirits of nature.

Traditionally human-like with fair appearance, magical qualities, and a penchant for trickery.
Can also refer to goblins, gnomes, sprites/pixies, ogres, trolls, and other such magic creatures rooted in above regional folklore.

Recurring motifs are trickster behaviour and the use of protective charms to ward off fairy/fairy influence eg church bells, inside-out clothes, four-leaf clovers, gifts of food (most commonly bread), cold iron, etc.

Fairies may stem from a root in Persian Mythology of the ‘Peris’, angelic beings said to be fair, beautiful, extravagant nature spirits, skilled in magic and supported by wings.

Size is not a constant in fairy folklore and they may be diminutive, of average human height, or several feet taller depending on mythology. Height is not also constant to one individual fairy - it may be a magical construct or affectation, changed at will.

Wings are common in Victorian and later era artwork, but are less prevalent in older folklore, where fairies are airborne under their own magic, or perched on ragwort stems, or on the backs of birds.

Some folklore paints fairies as ancient pagan deities, such as nymphs, dryads, and tree spirits, who lost reverence and perceived power following the rise of the Christian Church, and so who’s magical power dwindled in kind.

Celtic, particularly Irish, folklore favours fairies as the spirits of the dead; banshees, ghosts etc are of the fae, and the Irish ‘sídhe’, the etymological root for the Irish term for fairy, were burial mounds. It was deemed dangerous to eat the food left for the dead, and fairies were depicted as living underground where the corpses had been buried.

Fairies are often depicted as pranksters - tangling hair (‘fairy-locks’), stealing small items, and luring travellers into becoming lost. However they exhibited more dangerous behaviour - sudden, unexpected deaths were attributed to abductions, with the corpse being a magical wooden replica.
Charms and wards were necessary to protect oneself and one’s home from fairies; cold iron, amulets and talismans of rowan trees and/or various herbs, or rowan trees (considered to be sacred to fairies) growing in one’s garden.
It was also advised to shun or avoid places “known” to belong to fairies, to avoid insulting or offending them. Avoiding insult in general was important to protecting oneself from fairies.

In Scottish folklore, fairies are divided into the Seelie and Unseelie courts. While both engaged in trickery against humans, the Seelie Court was seen as more harmless pranksters and more likely to be more beneficiently inclined towards humans, while the Unseelie Court was more malicious, bringing intentional harm to humans for their own entertainments. Both courts however were equally dangerous if offended.

A considerable amount of folklore around fairies deals with abduction, particularly changelings (the replacing of human infants with fairy imposters), although adult abduction is not uncommon.

Avoiding fairy-occupied spaces, fairy-travelled paths, or digging into fairy land is heavily encouraged. Home owners would knock down corners that intruded on fairy paths, and cottages would be be built with aligned front and back doors, that could be left open to maintain a clear, un-obstructed fairy path. Fairy forts and fairy trees were left undisturbed, not even the grass being cut.

It was important not to offend fairies; either by complaining about them, or by taking false credit for their work. Gifts deemed of poor quality would lead to insult, as would looking too long at a fairy (infringing on their privacy).

It is believed that names have power over fairies, and that by knowing a fairy’s name, you could summon and command it. Doing so however would gravely insult the fairy.

A common feature in fairy folklore is the use of magic to disguise objects or persons. Fairy gold would appear as solid coin, but eventually reveal itself to be enchanted pebbles or gorse blossoms or gingerbread cakes, or other similarly worthless items.
Fairy ointment, applied to the eyes, allows one to see through these illusions; however, again, this poses a risk, as in some tales those who had applied ointment to their eyes and been discovered were then blinded.

In Irish folklore, fairies are descended from the Tuatha Dé Danann, a race of supernaturally-gifted people and the gods and goddesses of pre-Christian Ireland, supposedly having their origins in the islands to the North, or from the sky. After victory in battle against other supernatural beings, but suffering defeat at the hands of the ancestors of the modern Irish people, they were said to retreat underground to the sídhe, living on as fairies.

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Banshees
Bugbear
Centaur
Dryads
Dullahan
Fae
Faun
Ghoul
Gnomes
Goblins
Grindylow
Hags
Hobgoblins
Imps
Kelpie
Leprechauns
Nuckelavee
Nymphs
Ogre
Pixies
Redcaps
Satyr
Selkie
Siren
Spriggan
Sprites
Sylph
Tooth fairy
Troll
Wight
Will-o-the-Wisp

Irish: Tuatha Dé Danann
Scottish: Seelie Court, Unseelie Court

Charms/Wards: Rowan Trees, Rowan Tree & Herb talismans/amulets, bells, gifts of bread, four-leaf clovers, inside-out clothes, cold iron, shunning Fairy places, avoiding offense or invasions of privacy, knowing names, fairy ointment

Traits: Cannot lie; must accept gifts, but are obligated to repay in kind; equal exchange in all barters; bind others, and bound themselves, by their words and the terms of their agreements (geas)
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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 #1.004: Post Title

Interaction(s): @Lord Wraith, Lorcán //
Gil sat on the beach, perched atop the crest of where the coastline swelled up as the tide met the island; the ocean lapped at the sand a handful of feet below him, and he wriggled his feet deeper into the shore, enjoying the warmth of the sand covering his toes, and the heat of the sun on his back through the unbuttoned white-linen shirt he wore to ward off sunburn. He watched students eat, drink, run up and down the coast, swim, shriek from the cold; many smiled or waved, some blushed - he gave them all the same friendly smile, a short wave back, a quick peace-sign thrown up when he noticed someone holding their phone up for a photo. His team, and his other academic peers entering their final year, were well-used to his presence, and the mystique and allure of his silver-screen history had worn off for them. Not so for the flock of new students that came with the start of the new semester - Gil's enrollment at P.R.C.U. was a well-promoted piece of trivia, both by W.H.A.T. and the university itself, and Gil was sure that the ferry over contained more than a few low whispers of the campus' own resident Hyperhuman movie star.

This all suited Gil; he liked the attention, he liked the occasional 'special consideration' afforded to him by the academy, he liked most girls coming pre-wooed, he liked that he had go-to small talk that was simple for him and exciting for his conversational partner. He liked that it helped distract him from the text messages from Elle he'd had that morning. The phone was clutched in his hand and while it was locked, face ID would quickly re-open it to the same message exchange that hadn't left the screen since it had ended.

He'd had the usual from his parents and Arthur; good news from Arthur even, the feeling of which was quickly forgotten in the face of knowing he'd fucked up with Elle yet again. He knew when he sent it that mentioning LA was stupid, but so was mentioning Ann Arbour. The bit about filming wasn't even supposed to be trite or deflecting, but Elle's response was clear. Gil might be dumb, but he wasn't stupid. Elle had no love for Hollywood, had taken considerable steps to remove herself from the city and the lifestyle, and Gil's suggestion was 'maybe I'll fly us out for a weekend together in the city you hate that's the very symbol of why we split in the first place'? Gil wasn't stupid, but he was dumb.
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He sighed, and shoved the phone into the pocket of his trunks. He scanned the coastline again, looking for a new distraction, and spotted Lorcán on his board paddling in to shore. Gil smiled and called out, waving his hand to grab his attention.
"For someone who has been on a board since he could walk, you wouldn't know it!”

"The waves are gnarly my dude, guess the water just isn't my element today." Lorcán smirked as he spotted Gil and trekked across the sand toward him, board under one arm and seawater rising off him as steam. You'd be forgiven for thinking the sun was working some overtime if you didn't know Lorcán, or indeed the common reason anyone here was on this particular beach, rather than some other stretch of west-coast shoreline. Lorcán stuck his board upright in the sand with a forceful stab, and sat down next to Gil to join in with his people-watching.
“Are you looking forward to putting together the Homecoming Trial for this year’s freshmen? It’s tradition for the graduating class to work together creating a new obstacle course. With any luck, maybe the Chancellor will let us run the course before the new class.”

Gil chuckled softly and maintained a friendly smile as he replied.
“I find I’m more equipped for emotional labour compared to physical, but you know what they say - many hands make light work. You hear a lot of good sayings in the industry, but that one particularly seems to follow me…”
Gil looked up, trailing off and shielding his eyes from the sun as a young girl approached nervously from behind Lorcán; Lorcán followed his gaze before noticing her and welcomed the girl before beginning introductions.

“Gil, this is my ‘baby’ cousin, Ripley Jones,” Lorcán said with a smile, embracing the petite brunette with a side hug. “She’s starting her first collegiate year this fall.”
“Hi,” Ripley replied shyly, before brushing her bangs away from her face, before turning to whisper to Lorcán, “You didn’t tell me you knew Gil freakin’ Galahad!”
A confused look came over Lorcán’s face for a second before bursting into a wide smile.
“Oh yeah, he’s-” Lorcán paused, turning back towards Gil, “-you’re a movie star or something, right?” Lorcán chuckled softly. “Y’know, she actually lives in Crestwood Hollow.”

Gil beamed, standing and brushing off the sand to offer a hand to shake. “Always nice to meet a fan. You know we actually shot on-location for a few episodes. It’s a beautiful town. Would you like a selfie?”
“Of course she wou-” A sharp elbow to the ribs stopped the words mid-breath as Lorcán was forced to sharply exhale.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Ripley began to whisper frantically, “This is so not the way I wanted to meet Gil Galahad!” She pleaded, tugging at Lorcán’s hand. “I am so going to get you back for this the minute I find out which one of these girls is-”
“I think we were leaving after all,” Lorcán said with a smile while tucking his surfboard under his arm. “If I don’t see you before the kick-off ceremony, enjoy the rest of the holiday.”

Gil pointed a finger and grinned. "Hey - you too, bud. Big day tomorrow!"
He watched the pair trek off down the beach, chatting to each other as they went, and the grin faded from Gil's face as they went; the jovial expression was gone completely before Lorcán and Ripley had put 10 yards behind them. He put a hand to his pocket, feeling the weight and shape of his phone through the polyester. Come on, Gilbert. Get a grip. It's your last year, and then an easy ride to your very own Walk of Fame star. Imagine what that Hollywood Reporter cover shoot will do for your image.

He scanned the beach again, and nearly wished he hadn't when he spotted the second teammate of the day; Banjo himself, parading out of the water with half the dignity Lorcán had shown but twice the self-aggrandizing confidence. Gil watched him wring out his shorts and strip his shoes and socks and then looked away as Banjo looked up and around, pointedly searching for someone else to engage with. Or at least to provide a buffer. Gil wasn't sure he had the patience at this present moment to present his usual amiable facade against Banjo's particular brand of attention.

Instead, Gil flinched as the creaking static of a megaphone erupted from behind him before Harper's voice boomed through, sounding for all intents and purposes like a drill sergeant shouting orders; yet despite the harsh tone, Gil felt a small flutter ripple through him regardless. The barked command was Harper through-and-through: disciplined, observant, in favour of the greater good, and unwilling to suffer fools.

Well, hopefully not that last one.

Gil got up, putting text messages out of his head, hoping Banjo didn't notice him amidst the crowded beach, and turned to find the source of the yell. He spotted Aurora's hair before he saw Harper, but Aurora was approaching Harper anyway - and if Aurora was around, Gil could be sure Lorcán would be gravitating closer, if not already bee-lining for the pair of girls. A little two-man tête-à-tête was potentially in order, and the perfect thing to rouse Gil from his funk and bring back the sunny disposition that had been so-far absent from an otherwise gorgeous day.

A light jog through the sand warmed up his legs and helped the sunlight catch his toned torso just-so through the open shirt; he gave a friendly wave as he approached, standing with a smile at a safe distance and making a point not to pay too much attention to what either girl was choosing to reveal, whether that be by Aurora's bikini, or Harper's sundress. Of course, that wasn't to hide that he was interested - just to show that he was interested in a more noble, chivalrous kind of way. That was the idea, at least. He couldn't afford to be being seen as lecherous.

"Hello, ladies! Lovely to see you today. Enjoying the weather? Excited for our final semester?"
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The Fae


Charms/Wards: Rowan Trees, Rowan Tree & Herb talismans/amulets, bells, gifts of bread, four-leaf clovers, inside-out clothes, cold iron, shunning Fairy places, avoiding offense or invasions of privacy, knowing names, fairy ointment

Traits: Cannot lie; must accept gifts, but are obligated to repay in kind; equal exchange in all barters; bind others, and bound themselves, by their words and the terms of their agreements (geas)








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Luckily for Aurora, Gil’s approach took some of the pressure off by changing the subject. “Gil! It’s great to see you too.” She replied to his greeting. “Of course, this year is going to be one to remember, I just know it.”

“Yeah… gonna be great,” Harper managed as an answer to his question.

...

“Looks like Myotis could have a real shot at the Laurels this year…” Aurora joked to Gil.

Rory/Aurora/Lorcán kerfuffle.

Lorcán trips over cooler, Calliope helps him up before calling Rory over for a 'chat'.
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