Oh hey that's a brilliant way to tie in the Astral Projection ability though - Abi's got the attention span of a walnut and gets into hijinks so I made the spell primarily so you as the GM can nudge her back into the right direction. I'll read the IC now and give her a dream of the location and head on over there and later on we can discuss other ways to use it in PM if you want?
I think that her receiving a mysterious letter out of the blue might be best unless she's not up for reading letters.
Physical Description: Miles Honeywell stands at 5"10, lithely and powerfully built, with shoulders of average width. His skin is fair and largely unblemished apart from the occasional freckle and some minor acne scars on the left side of his jaw. His eyes are blue and unintricate, without deformity nor unusual beauty. His hair is brown, neither dark enough to be remarkable nor light enough to be blonde. His smile is pleasant, but not stunning. His teeth are straight, but not perfect. There is little about him that is particularly memorable - he is no more than another face among billions.
Important items: He carries very little of personal importance with him - but for professional purposes; a fake ID (Michael Stafford) with matching 'pocket litter', a Glock 18 chambered in 9mm with a detachable short suppressor, three cheap Bic branded lighters, a pair of glasses with dark wire frames.
Short Bio:
Miles Honeywell was born in Hackney, London, to a single mother in a year of strife. His family was poor, his community was poor, and the country was fucked. The homeless were on the verge of having a population size that could legitimately give them a member of Parliament, there were fires destroying urban housing blocks in the City with all their inhabitants trapped inside, and a group of especially indecisive traitors were governing it all.
Miles hated them. He hated them so much.
In his childhood he was no fan nor friend of the government, and by extension he *loathed* their grunts and enforcers in blue. They would come into his neighbourhood and drag adults and kids alike off, packing them into their vans and disappearing them. Some of them came back, beaten and broken and traumatised - but many didn’t at all. He was stopped and searched for no reason so regularly that he could practically tell the time by it, and his little sister - two years his junior - got it worse.
Gangs started entering his life when he was 13. Properly entering his life, I mean. They weren’t just a set piece any more, a group of shady folk you learned to recognise and avoid, but with whom you had no interaction. Instead they put him to work running cash and messages between one and the other, like a miniature courier with a burner phone. Honestly, the work paid decently - especially for a kid - and he was smart enough to not get caught more than once with anything important on him. The one time he did was unpleasant, but hey, they didn’t break any bones.
Eventually the gangs started to evolve, though. When they were mostly just pitted against eachother they had a tendency to be small and insignificant organisations - but when the premier selection pressure evolved from competition with other gangs for territory and resources to pressure directly from riot police, then the gangs themselves started to adapt in response. The smaller gangs either joined larger ones, disbanded, or were crushed, and the larger gangs either formed alliances or were encircled and absorbed by ones that did. Things were gearing up for all out war in the community when Miles was 15, and he wisely chose to avoid it. He couldn’t quite remain impartial, and he still had to be friendly enough with everyone that they’d leave his little sister alone, but he didn’t want to get stabbed over this shit.
But then he got stabbed anyway. The whole process of trying to remain out of the conflict failed him utterly, and it was only because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He was walking home from hanging out with a couple of mates - nobodies who weren’t going anywhere - when two guys threw eachother out of a pub and onto Miles. They were members of the same gang who both suspected the other of being an undercover cop, and they’d tried to settle it with a pint before one of them drew a knife. That knife ended up about two centimetres from the biggest artery in the human body, inside Miles, purely by bad luck. He got lucky enough that he didn’t pass out from shock, and was able to phone for an ambulance - it was a similar matter of luck that nobody decided to mug the paramedics when they picked him up. The two men responsible continued their fight elsewhere, not even realising how close they’d come to killing a kid.
That was the moment it became clear that no matter how bad the situation was with the state, and no matter how bad the cops were to people like him, he wasn’t better off by isolating himself like this. His mum and sister came to visit him in the hospital and he told them plainly that they needed to move.
“We don’t have enough money.” His mum’s reply came.
“I don’t care, we have to.” He said in turn.
But then, from the recesses of that dark conversation, there came a sort of light - and an unexpected visitor.
Detective Sergeant Jonathan Hayes, specifically. He was a tall, proud looking man, with hair that was clearly going grey long before it was due to, and a wry smile that made it clear he knew more than you wanted him to. DS Hayes was exactly the kind of cop that liked putting young men like Miles in positions where they felt powerless, for the exact reason that it made him feel powerful in turn. He was by no means an admirable man - and indeed, Miles did not mourn him when he died five years later, even if he owed him that much - but for once DS Hayes was coming with good news, and a deal.
The law had been changed recently, and the changes made could make both of the gangers who’d gotten Miles stabbed equally culpable for his wound - which in turn, under new, liberal interpretations of ‘attempted’, could be called attempted murder. If Miles was willing to testify, he could put two of the local firm’s biggest hitters away for life, and start a cascade inside the gang that would lead to their collapse when the police moved in; and in return, DS Hayes would see about turning over some witness protection funding so that the family could rent a new place in a better neighbourhood, where their faces weren’t known and the local lowlifes knew better than to do things high-profile.
It was so perfect, it could have been a set up. Hell, it might have been a set up.
Didn’t matter. Getting stabbed and turning snitch once isn’t that bad of a price to pay, all things considered.
When the government he hated so much was taken down in the general election the year after that, things got even better. Some of the benefits they’d had taken away before were restored, and back-payments were made. His family were in a more stable situation than they’d ever been in his life, and out of both a newfound patriotism and a lack of other options for education or training, Miles made the admittedly questionable decision to join the army when he turned 16.
After two years of training - with deployment still being unlawful for the underaged - with the Royal Anglian Regiment, he was eventually deployed overseas to a peacekeeping operation in the Middle East. He served one tour with distinction, rising to the rank of Lance Corporal quickly in recognition of intelligence and calm under fire from insurgent forces, before being called home.
He met his mother and his little sister in the airport. They went for a burger king. It was nice - it was really nice to see them again.
He was in the toilets at the burger king, washing his hands, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Lance Corporal Honeywell.”
There’s a strange kind of feeling on the back of your neck that you get when you think you might be in danger, but aren’t quite sure about it yet. This man’s voice was like warm steel, not awful to hear, but with the kind of authority that you don’t simply ignore.
“Yeah?” He turned. The man in front of his was about two inches shorter than he was, with blonde hair, brown eyes, and a clean shaved square jawed face. He was wearing jeans and a plain green hoodie, and looked a little overweight. Not like a spy.
“My name is Jacob Barter. I work for Her Majesty’s Secret Intelligence Service. Your actions on tour have been noted as exemplary, and based on some of your personal history, we would be interested in speaking to you about employment in the national interest.”
“I- I’m sorry mate, I beg your pardon?”
“I work for the SIS. I’m offering you training - and a job - as an Intelligence Officer.”
It was the start of a long and proud career. He was a natural, picking up the skills and the characteristics of an Intelligence Officer - and in turn, whoever that Intelligence Officer needed to become - quickly. They have him a new name, Michael Stafford, with which he was referenced both in official documentation and in person. They reshaped him, rebuilt him, remade him into the eyes, ears, and hands of the State. In some ways Miles Honeywell vanished completely, disappearing beneath the waves of ink and red tape as he learnt to become other people, transforming into the Grey Little Man. When he wanted to be, he was invisible. When he needed to be, he was attractive. When he was ordered to be, he was lethal.
With his new colleagues, he built and functioned within a colossal spider’s web. Michael Stafford was more than a pair of eyes in one place, he was the synapse between a single mind and a thousand eyes.
As far as his family knew, he was doing well as an infantryman. He just had an irregular schedule of tours.
Then they sent him to America. He was a liaison agent working with the CIA when the New World dawned on them and his own abilities awoke, and his own Angel (of sorts) appeared to him as just another, if palpably different intelligence officer in a conservative suit. No flowing robes, no big lights or golden halo. It had been just as the orders came in to start rounding up suspected Mages, literally as he'd been reading them out to the rest of his team. The Angel had given him some quite specific instructions on how to leave the building without arousing suspicion; it probably bought him a whole hour before they started looking, and another couple hours before they figured it out.
Good thing both Michael and Miles have experience in running from the government.
Skills/Flaws:
Skills
A Focused Mind - Miles is an intelligent, insightful, perceptive man. He picks up on the fine details both in his environment and in other people, and learns very quickly, being highly adaptive and attentive at all times.
The Changing Face - Miles is an expert in dealing with people, both when they're aware of him and talking to him, and when they have yet to realise he even exists. His understanding of psychology and emotional cues is acutely tuned and extremely adept, his use of verbal and physical language is so trained it is genuinely natural, and his ability to manipulate, lie, charm, and more in order to disguise himself or achieve an end is truly remarkable.
Flaws
The Man, Malleable - Miles is one of these unfortunate individuals who, having become so used to changing his act and being more act than not, finds it disproportionately hard to actually change as a person. He's a fantastic learner, but actually changing himself for the better and becoming a better person simply doesn't come to him any more - after all, why bother really changing when you could just lie? Worse still, he does it subconsciously. It's in doubt whether or not he could learn from his personal mistakes if he even tried.
Sleepless Nights - It's a spy's job to be paranoid. You have to think sixteen steps ahead of eight different players, some of whom are your friends and don't want you dead, some of whom aren't your friends and do. You hear about your colleague, whose home was broken into the other night. You hear about people's families being followed home by foreign agents, kidnapped, and exorted for information. You hear about people watching your relatives and you can't be sure whose people they really are. Eventually it gets to you. You start sticking cameras up in your home, putting another lock in your door, hiding discreet weapons where you might need them, and losing sleep. It's the sleep loss that really gets him. He can't get more than three solid hours a night.
Spell List:
[Mind] [ Alter Memory ] - This ability allows the user to re-narrate part of their subject(s)'s memories, stripping the old ones and absorbing them, reworking them into new material, and painting over the top of the new space.
[Mind] [ Perception Filter ] - This ability allows the user to either dial down the other peoples' perceptions of them until they are functionally invisible, or increase their perceptions until more and more attention is drawn towards them. Whilst 'invisible' others around the user will still make attempts to find paths around the user if they're in their way. It affects the other peoples' entire perceptions, not simply sight.
[Timespace] [ The Quantum Leap ] - The User exists twice at once for a brief moment, and is teleported to either a location within reasonable line of sight, or to a place they can recall from memory in detail. This effect does not entail a somatic component or any trail between the two places jumped between, nor is there any disruption in those things that lie in their path.
[Change] [ Reshape Flesh ] - Normally to heal yourself, or to heal your teammates, commanding the flesh to take upon its natural shape once more, this spell does have other uses, in discreet murder for example.
[World] [ True Invisibility ] - For when a simple illusion won't do. This spell involves the transferal of photons from one side of the body directly to the other, without hindrance. This renders the body protected by the spell totally invisible. This one *will* affect cameras.
I think that her receiving a mysterious letter out of the blue might be best unless she's not up for reading letters.
You know, I don't actually know if she can read lmfao
She's looking for her uncle, and has no interest in getting to the bottom of her mysterious abilities. In fact she's more inclined to think her uncle will help her do that instead. She doesn't have the time or money to follow a letter on a whim either. If she saw the location in the letter in her dreams (which probably already helped her find other useful things in the past) she'd be more inclined to follow
You know, I don't actually know if she can read lmfao
She's looking for her uncle, and has no interest in getting to the bottom of her mysterious abilities. In fact she's more inclined to think her uncle will help her do that instead. She doesn't have the time or money to follow a letter on a whim either. If she saw the location in the letter in her dreams (which probably already helped her find other useful things in the past) she'd be more inclined to follow
What about dreaming about the letter and the location in it in her dreams first, then getting the letter?
Aaaand we're finally done! Sorry that took a little while, guys, I had some issues with the formatting, and it would have been up last night if my sleeping meds hadn't hit me really hard for no good reason.
Miles Honeywell // Michael Stafford
33 Years Old
Physical Description: Miles Honeywell stands at 5"10, lithely and powerfully built, with shoulders of average width. His skin is fair and largely unblemished apart from the occasional freckle and some minor acne scars on the left side of his jaw. His eyes are blue and unintricate, without deformity nor unusual beauty. His hair is brown, neither dark enough to be remarkable nor light enough to be blonde. His smile is pleasant, but not stunning. His teeth are straight, but not perfect. There is little about him that is particularly memorable - he is no more than another face among billions. Important items: He carries very little of personal importance with him - but for professional purposes; a fake ID (Michael Stafford) with matching 'pocket litter', a Glock 18 chambered in 9mm with a detachable short suppressor, three cheap Bic branded lighters, a pair of glasses with dark wire frames.
Short Bio:
Miles Honeywell was born in Hackney, London, to a single mother in a year of strife. His family was poor, his community was poor, and the country was fucked. The homeless were on the verge of having a population size that could legitimately give them a member of Parliament, there were fires destroying urban housing blocks in the City with all their inhabitants trapped inside, and a group of especially indecisive traitors were governing it all.
Miles hated them. He hated them so much.
In his childhood he was no fan nor friend of the government, and by extension he *loathed* their grunts and enforcers in blue. They would come into his neighbourhood and drag adults and kids alike off, packing them into their vans and disappearing them. Some of them came back, beaten and broken and traumatised - but many didn’t at all. He was stopped and searched for no reason so regularly that he could practically tell the time by it, and his little sister - two years his junior - got it worse.
Gangs started entering his life when he was 13. Properly entering his life, I mean. They weren’t just a set piece any more, a group of shady folk you learned to recognise and avoid, but with whom you had no interaction. Instead they put him to work running cash and messages between one and the other, like a miniature courier with a burner phone. Honestly, the work paid decently - especially for a kid - and he was smart enough to not get caught more than once with anything important on him. The one time he did was unpleasant, but hey, they didn’t break any bones.
Eventually the gangs started to evolve, though. When they were mostly just pitted against eachother they had a tendency to be small and insignificant organisations - but when the premier selection pressure evolved from competition with other gangs for territory and resources to pressure directly from riot police, then the gangs themselves started to adapt in response. The smaller gangs either joined larger ones, disbanded, or were crushed, and the larger gangs either formed alliances or were encircled and absorbed by ones that did. Things were gearing up for all out war in the community when Miles was 15, and he wisely chose to avoid it. He couldn’t quite remain impartial, and he still had to be friendly enough with everyone that they’d leave his little sister alone, but he didn’t want to get stabbed over this shit.
But then he got stabbed anyway. The whole process of trying to remain out of the conflict failed him utterly, and it was only because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He was walking home from hanging out with a couple of mates - nobodies who weren’t going anywhere - when two guys threw eachother out of a pub and onto Miles. They were members of the same gang who both suspected the other of being an undercover cop, and they’d tried to settle it with a pint before one of them drew a knife. That knife ended up about two centimetres from the biggest artery in the human body, inside Miles, purely by bad luck. He got lucky enough that he didn’t pass out from shock, and was able to phone for an ambulance - it was a similar matter of luck that nobody decided to mug the paramedics when they picked him up. The two men responsible continued their fight elsewhere, not even realising how close they’d come to killing a kid.
That was the moment it became clear that no matter how bad the situation was with the state, and no matter how bad the cops were to people like him, he wasn’t better off by isolating himself like this. His mum and sister came to visit him in the hospital and he told them plainly that they needed to move.
“We don’t have enough money.” His mum’s reply came.
“I don’t care, we have to.” He said in turn.
But then, from the recesses of that dark conversation, there came a sort of light - and an unexpected visitor.
Detective Sergeant Jonathan Hayes, specifically. He was a tall, proud looking man, with hair that was clearly going grey long before it was due to, and a wry smile that made it clear he knew more than you wanted him to. DS Hayes was exactly the kind of cop that liked putting young men like Miles in positions where they felt powerless, for the exact reason that it made him feel powerful in turn. He was by no means an admirable man - and indeed, Miles did not mourn him when he died five years later, even if he owed him that much - but for once DS Hayes was coming with good news, and a deal.
The law had been changed recently, and the changes made could make both of the gangers who’d gotten Miles stabbed equally culpable for his wound - which in turn, under new, liberal interpretations of ‘attempted’, could be called attempted murder. If Miles was willing to testify, he could put two of the local firm’s biggest hitters away for life, and start a cascade inside the gang that would lead to their collapse when the police moved in; and in return, DS Hayes would see about turning over some witness protection funding so that the family could rent a new place in a better neighbourhood, where their faces weren’t known and the local lowlifes knew better than to do things high-profile.
It was so perfect, it could have been a set up. Hell, it might have been a set up.
Didn’t matter. Getting stabbed and turning snitch once isn’t that bad of a price to pay, all things considered.
When the government he hated so much was taken down in the general election the year after that, things got even better. Some of the benefits they’d had taken away before were restored, and back-payments were made. His family were in a more stable situation than they’d ever been in his life, and out of both a newfound patriotism and a lack of other options for education or training, Miles made the admittedly questionable decision to join the army when he turned 16.
After two years of training - with deployment still being unlawful for the underaged - with the Royal Anglian Regiment, he was eventually deployed overseas to a peacekeeping operation in the Middle East. He served one tour with distinction, rising to the rank of Lance Corporal quickly in recognition of intelligence and calm under fire from insurgent forces, before being called home.
He met his mother and his little sister in the airport. They went for a burger king. It was nice - it was really nice to see them again.
He was in the toilets at the burger king, washing his hands, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Lance Corporal Honeywell.”
There’s a strange kind of feeling on the back of your neck that you get when you think you might be in danger, but aren’t quite sure about it yet. This man’s voice was like warm steel, not awful to hear, but with the kind of authority that you don’t simply ignore.
“Yeah?” He turned. The man in front of his was about two inches shorter than he was, with blonde hair, brown eyes, and a clean shaved square jawed face. He was wearing jeans and a plain green hoodie, and looked a little overweight. Not like a spy.
“My name is Jacob Barter. I work for Her Majesty’s Secret Intelligence Service. Your actions on tour have been noted as exemplary, and based on some of your personal history, we would be interested in speaking to you about employment in the national interest.”
“I- I’m sorry mate, I beg your pardon?”
“I work for the SIS. I’m offering you training - and a job - as an Intelligence Officer.”
It was the start of a long and proud career. He was a natural, picking up the skills and the characteristics of an Intelligence Officer - and in turn, whoever that Intelligence Officer needed to become - quickly. They have him a new name, Michael Stafford, with which he was referenced both in official documentation and in person. They reshaped him, rebuilt him, remade him into the eyes, ears, and hands of the State. In some ways Miles Honeywell vanished completely, disappearing beneath the waves of ink and red tape as he learnt to become other people, transforming into the Grey Little Man. When he wanted to be, he was invisible. When he needed to be, he was attractive. When he was ordered to be, he was lethal.
With his new colleagues, he built and functioned within a colossal spider’s web. Michael Stafford was more than a pair of eyes in one place, he was the synapse between a single mind and a thousand eyes.
As far as his family knew, he was doing well as an infantryman. He just had an irregular schedule of tours.
Then they sent him to America. He was a liaison agent working with the CIA when the New World dawned on them and his own abilities awoke, and his own Angel (of sorts) appeared to him as just another, if palpably different intelligence officer in a conservative suit. No flowing robes, no big lights or golden halo. It had been just as the orders came in to start rounding up suspected Mages, literally as he'd been reading them out to the rest of his team. The Angel had given him some quite specific instructions on how to leave the building without arousing suspicion; it probably bought him a whole hour before they started looking, and another couple hours before they figured it out.
Good thing both Michael and Miles have experience in running from the government.
Skills/Flaws:
Skills
A Focused Mind - Miles is an intelligent, insightful, perceptive man. He picks up on the fine details both in his environment and in other people, and learns very quickly, being highly adaptive and attentive at all times.
The Changing Face - Miles is an expert in dealing with people, both when they're aware of him and talking to him, and when they have yet to realise he even exists. His understanding of psychology and emotional cues is acutely tuned and extremely adept, his use of verbal and physical language is so trained it is genuinely natural, and his ability to manipulate, lie, charm, and more in order to disguise himself or achieve an end is truly remarkable.
Flaws
The Unperson - Miles is one of these unfortunate individuals who, having become so used to changing his act and being more act than not, finds it disproportionately hard to actually change as a person. He's a fantastic learner, but actually changing himself for the better and becoming a better person simply doesn't come to him any more - after all, why bother really changing when you could just lie? Worse still, he does it subconsciously. It's in doubt whether or not he could learn from his personal mistakes if he even tried.
Sleepless Nights - It's a spy's job to be paranoid. You have to think sixteen steps ahead of eight different players, some of whom are your friends and don't want you dead, some of whom aren't your friends and do. You hear about your colleague, whose home was broken into the other night. You hear about people's families being followed home by foreign agents, kidnapped, and exorted for information. You hear about people watching your relatives and you can't be sure whose people they really are. Eventually it gets to you. You start sticking cameras up in your home, putting another lock in your door, hiding discreet weapons where you might need them, and losing sleep. It's the sleep loss that really gets him. He can't get more than three solid hours a night.
Spell List:
[Mind] [ Alter Memory ] - This ability allows the user to explore and re-narrate parts of their subject(s)'s memories, stripping the old ones and absorbing them, reworking them into new material, and painting over the top of the new space.
[Mind] [ Alter Perception ] - This ability allows the user to either dial down the other peoples' perceptions of them until they are functionally invisible, or increase their perceptions until more and more attention is drawn towards them. Whilst 'invisible' others around the user will still make attempts to find paths around the user if they're in their way. It affects the other peoples' entire perceptions, not simply sight, and can be used for illusory purposes as well as stealth purposes.
[Timespace] [ Quantum Leap ] - The User - or a particular object roughly their size or less - exists twice at once for a brief moment, and is thus teleported to either a location within reasonable line of sight, or to a place they can recall from memory in detail. This effect does not entail a somatic component or any trail between the two places jumped between, nor is there any disruption in those things that lie in their path.
[Change] [ Reshape Flesh ] - At its most basic this spell is normally used to heal yourself, or to heal your teammates, commanding the flesh to take upon its natural shape once more, this spell does have other uses - in especially discreet murder for example. It also has the potential to reshape the body in more beneficial ways - but this requires a specific knowledge of what you're doing, beyond simply 'restore' or 'destroy'.
[World] [ Lightwarp ] - For when a simple illusion won't do. This spell involves the transferal of photons from one side of the body directly to the other, without hindrance. This renders the body protected by the spell totally invisible. This one *will* affect cameras. In theory, this can also be used to manipulate light on a larger scale, blocking, altering, or magnifying its passage at the user's command.
[World] - [ Mindspark ] - Involving the conscious manipulation of the natural charges and currents of the world, this power allows the user active control over the flow and charge of electrical currents and potential differences. At its most basic level this involves the conductance, direction, and creation of bolts of electricity, as well as permitting absorption and redirection of current directed at the caster - for instance from a taser or electric fence. When combined with the bizarre quirks of Timespace magic - such as the effects of Quantum Leap - this allows for a greater degree of control when it comes to the domain of electronically stored information.
There we go, that took way longer than it should have
Name: Zephyr Tremblett Age: 25 Physical Description: Zephyr stands at 6 feet tall and weighs 200 pounds
Important items: The only item Zephyr travels with is his smartphone and the charger
Short Bio: Zephyr was just an average guy before he had his vision. He got slightly above average grades in school, went to a nice university and got a well paying job at a tech firm where he could work from home. Then one day a few years back as he was getting home from a work meeting he saw something strange above his house. It looked like a bird but he knew there was something off about it, and upon closer inspection it looked like a person with wings. Then he heard the message in his head, about how the world was rotten and he was tasked to fix it. Surely there had to be better suitors, but there was no arguing. The voice and thing above his house were gone, and he felt a surge of power come to him.
Zephyr could barely get inside before collapsing from the overwhelming force inside him. Zephyr passed out and had a strange dream where he figured out what was happening. He had been blessed with magic of a sort, there were many different kinds of magic that he could learn. Being someone who wanted to learn many things he picked up all the schools except Underworld. Even in a world of magic, the magic of the dead felt too unnatural for Zephyr to be comfortable.
The next day Zephyr began training his powers, luckily for him he had figured out how to automate his job and was keeping that his little secret. He trained for two years, trying to perfect what spells he had chosen for himself, waiting for another sign, and that sign came in the form of a letter.
Skills/Flaws: Flaw-Emotional Suppression-Zephyr isn't great at expressing himself, and he generally has two emotional states. Apathetic with a general go with the flow attitude, and rage monster. When Zephyr allows his rage to show he is very likely to hurt someone, with his new powers he may even kill
Skill-Computers-Zephyr is good with code and general computer things. He once hacked in to his schools database and changed his friends grades to make sure they passed....maybe more than once.
Skill-Spatial Awareness-Zephyr has trained himself to take in all the features of a place when he gets there to assist with his teleportation power
Flaw-Selfish-Zephyr tries to do the right thing when it's easy and doesn't inconvenience him too much. But if it's something he doesn't want to do, Zephyr will generally just forget it even exists.
Spell List: Create Sword and Shield (High)-Zephyr creates a sword and shield out of mana that takes on a turquoise colour. He can change the size and shape of these items such as making the shield cover a larger area or extending the length of the sword to surprise an enemy that thinks they're out of range.
Create Holograms (World)-Zephyr can manipulate light to create holograms that look lifelike but have no true physical form. The more holograms Zephyr makes the harder it is to maintain them. The exception being if the holograms are just imitating something nearby, like himself.
Read Intent (Mind)-Zephyr can look at someone and tell what they intend to do in the situation they're in. Whether it be they intend to lie, retreat, or even how they intend to fight.
Teleport (Timespace)-Zephyr can teleport to anywhere within eyeshot, though the further the distance the less accurately he can place himself. He can also teleport short distances to areas he can't see, though this poses a risk of him ending up in a wall or something similar.
Increase Physical Prowess (Change)-An ability that is always in effect, this increases Zephyrs strength, durability, and endurance beyond that of a normal human.
Manipulate Emotions (Mind)-Zephyr can manipulate the emotions of an individual or a small group. This is usually used to try and calm people down, but he can make people feel joy, sadness, anger, or any other emotion.
@Haydrian Cindel I really liked your post, but where is Hayrdrian at the moment? I wasn't planning on having Abigail walk in right away either, and a gas station sounds like one of her haunts if she was in unfamiliar territory.
@Stitches Haydrian would definetly still be at the gas station if Abigail showed up. Lemme know if you want to have them interact. btw he's wearing a purple hoodie with a new York school logo on it, and jeans. The sedan he's driving is red with black tinted windows.
@Haydrian Cindel A. What'd you do to Colin Farrell? And B. "...her attempting to drown a devil in a pond so she could keep his pitchfork". I really appreciate how you described Kai. Hella fantastic.
@Haydrian Cindel A. What'd you do to Colin Farrell? And B. "...her attempting to drown a devil in a pond so she could keep his pitchfork". I really appreciate how you described Kai. Hella fantastic.
Hah! tbh I didn't even know who the guy was. I read Collin Farrel and I was like... what is silver talking about? Then I was like OOOHHHHH the picture. And thanks! I wanted to provide some imagery that captured the level of distrust you describe her having, I was worried it was going to bomb though.
@Letter Bee As far as Haydrian goes though, I wouldn't worry about giving him something to do. I intend to bring him in really soon, character wise he just isn't going to walk in there on his own until he knows it's safe. If it's chill with you he'll probably just wait at the gas station I left him at until Dennis calls to give him the a-ok.
I do have a question though, does Gavin know what we look like? Is he at all likely to believe that Dennis is Haydrian, or does he see right through that?
@Letter Bee As far as Haydrian goes though, I wouldn't worry about giving him something to do. I intend to bring him in really soon, character wise he just isn't going to walk in there on his own until he knows it's safe. If it's chill with you he'll probably just wait at the gas station I left him at until Dennis calls to give him the a-ok.
I do have a question though, does Gavin know what we look like? Is he at all likely to believe that Dennis is Haydrian, or does he see right through that?
Gavin's spells allow him to see that Dennis is not Haydrian + He knows what you all look like - See his spell list.
@Haydrian Cindel since we're doing our own thing, would you be okay doing more than one round before the GM replies so we can join the group faster?
Yeah, that's totally fine with me. From your post it sounds like Abigail isn't likely to speak to Haydrian first right? I was thinking we could start with Haydrian noticing her staring, and trying to talk to her. That'd easily be in character for him. I'm going to go re-read her profile again, but how likely is she to be trusting of charismatic people?
(Edit) Oh my gurshe, I just looked up the song you have Abigail singing. I'd assumed it was going to be a Johnny Cash song or something, but the only one I've found is by The Wonder Kids, and it sounds like it belongs to a religious Teletubbies show or something. Maybe Barny XD
Yeah, that's totally fine with me. From your post it sounds like Abigail isn't likely to speak to Haydrian first right? I was thinking we could start with Haydrian noticing her staring, and trying to talk to her. That'd easily be in character for him. I'm going to go re-read her profile again, but how likely is she to be trusting of charismatic people?
(Edit) Oh my gurshe, I just looked up the song you have Abigail singing. I'd assumed it was going to be a Johnny Cash song or something, but the only one I've found is by The Wonder Kids, and it sounds like it belongs to a religious Teletubbies show or something. Maybe Barny XD
First of all, don't underestimate the jesus songs. Some of them are absolute bops.
Second I think you're overthinking it. Focus on the IC scenario. In all versions of Abigail she's pretty approachable so I wouldn't worry about it.
