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Honest
Identity: An ironic name considering she's anything but, Honest is a bitter and cruel cleaner. She holds a profound knowledge about immortals and the supernatural as a testament to her career. As she states, she's overworked, underpaid, and a glorified babysitter. Why she remains in the 10th district within someone else's office is mystery considering that she holds a grade IV license. Whenever questioned about it, she becomes unreasonably angry about some debts.

Despite being possibly the worst possible person for it, she manages to be the field trainer for most new cleaners at Mel's office. Though, even Honest won't acknowledge what she does as training. Moreso giving a child a hammer and kicking it out of their hands when they try to bash their own foot.

Her relationship with Mel is not one of kinship and pleasantries. Perhaps long ago, they shared niceties. These days, the two seem to function off of purely enmity, spite, and bigger pictures. They'd both gladly throw each other to the wolves to reach their goals and both of them acknowledge that fact.

Armaments: Honest wields a blessed chain-glaive. She doesn't have to fumble around with a carrying case that way.

Abilities: Relocation is the premise of Honest's magic. With her left hand, she can warp objects she had previously touched to her location. With her right hand, she can temporarily warp objects to a location within eyesight. Objects that are harder to move take more vitas.

Even without her magic, Mel is formidable. She's brutishly strong and accomplished with whatever she holds. Though, "accomplished" might as well mean hitting so hard that it shatters to bits.

Other: She doesn't carry a MAIDEN with her, but she has access to one. One of Mel's, to be exact.
Mel
Identity: Mel is the head of her titular office. She's many things. Androgynous with a raspy voice. Secretive and always thinking. A collector of history. The one thing she isn't is exhausted. After all, she gets Honest to do all of her fieldwork for her.

Mel is polite and amiable. She's especially caring towards newer cleaners. Incubator-type offices that don't simply exploit fresh cleaners are quite rare. Though, seeds of contempt lie deep within her actions. Most people would rather not create an office in the 10th district. Those that do tend to either be running or hiding from something.

Most of her time is spent filing paperwork, reading news, looking for leads, and running meetings. If she gets free time, then she's often out looking for books that catalogue the history of the city.

Armaments: Mel's weapon of choice is a relic: a wooden-stocked rifle with a telescopic sight. Technically, only the barrel is a relic. With its rifling, it "stretches" and coats each round with malediction. Rather than shooting bullets, it's more accurate to say that Mel fires binding spears.

Abilities: Mel's magic is dastardly complex to use: she can fold space. Effectively, she can make two points closer than they actually are. For the most part, it can be used as transport and a way to attack. By shortening the distance between two points, she can increase the range and speed of her attacks.

Mel is a marksman by trade. Years of paperwork have unfortunately knocked her down a few pegs since her prime. Beyond that, she has an innate sense of foresight from years of experience.

Other: While she calls herself a collector, her office/apartment reveal the truth: she's a hoarder of anything historical.
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Shiozaki Yasu
Female | 4'8 | Rank II

Identity
“You don’t need math for murder.”

The 10th District was no place for a child to be, but where there were humans, there would be children. In the gutters and alleyways, sheltered or abandoned, all as one toiled away at the factories of the crown-magistrates or fell in line with the professional criminals who preyed upon the helpless and principals. Monsters lurked in shadows, lurked in the alleyways, lurked in the dumpsters, and lurked in your lunchbox.

Yasu too, would have fallen prey to such monsters, if not for a single difference.

When she was seven years old, she saw her reflection in a shattered mirror. And that alone was enough to change her world.

Soon after, rumors of the Tiger Cub spread. A child wielding an iron pipe, one who could take on men thrice her height. One whose form flickered and changed, like channels switching on TV. One who stole and ate, who was in perpetual solitude within the sinner’s city. And yet one who remained ever-so-happy, who possessed a smile that could not exist upon the lips of a resident of the 10th District. But how could she not smile?

She was never alone, and she always had a choice! She was freer than the richest oligarches in the 1st District, and even if she died, she would live on in her stead!

The shattered mirror gave her happiness and madness in turn. And all the while, her vitas continued to drain away, falling deep into the cracks of the city. Yasu was but a child of the 10th District. And who would teach a child what Magic truly was?



Was it coincidence or fate, that found a Cleaner placing a weapon in her hands as her vision began to blink in and out? Was it charity or curiosity, that found a Cleaner directly her to the shadows, the alleyways, the dumpsters, her lunchbox?

Monsters were real. They can bleed.

And if Yasu loved herself as much as she thought she did, then she would kill them to continue loving herself.

Armaments
Yasu has a sword. In her hands, it may be a two-handed sword, but in truth, it's short as these things go.

But it suits her well in its simplicity, sheathed as it is in her own vitas. No tricks. No gimmicks. Just strike down the monster with a swing, and leave the more esoteric ones to the other weirdos.

In the little room she has to herself up in the office, there still lies a rusty iron pipe, fit for the hands of a child smaller than even herself.

Abilities
Beyond the usual host of abilities that one could expect of a hunter of the supernatural, Yasu also, strangely enough, possesses the ability to read lips.

That's not what made her a Rank II Cleaner at the age of 14 though.

The magic that came to this child when she was but seven years old was the ability to see herself in alternate timelines, so long as the current situation was similar enough. Through this, she is able to swap herself with another self, ultimately allowing her to perform actions that are physically, logically, and temporally impossible. A swing from the right becomes a swing to the left. Motions to steal a wallet become motions to steal a watch. Of course, from the perspective of Yasu, it is the world that has suddenly changed around her, as she catapults herself through space and time to reach a place further than the universe she had always known.

But in the eyes of those around her?

Yasu is simply an airhead of a girl who too easily mixes up names and faces, possessing magic that makes her attacks nigh-incomprehensible.
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Cam



"Anyone, Anything, Anywhere, Anytime."


Name: Camilla

Nickname: Cam

Identity:

"There is nothing permanent except change."

Cam had a name once, she prefers not to remember. A loving family, she imagines. Simple days spent in wildflower meadows, she dreams. Now she has a job. An adopted name, free from any past. A fresh start and a hastily bestowed or claimed nickname. She has ideas. She has plans. She wants to walk in soft grass. She wants to see trees. She wants to be free.

--- 1

Change.

Change is the only way to survive beneath the cold moon enveloping Outis with a pale, baleful light.

Cam knows this. Cam has accepted this. So she changed her past. She changed her self. Embracing change she found magic. She found new shapes. She adopted new forms. Survival was change. It was all that mattered. Everything could be changed. Everything could be altered. Everything could be shifted to accommodate the demands of the present. The future could be saved by reshaping even her soul.

What is a form?

What is a shape?

What is a soul?

Nothing but water. Water to shape as needed. Water to form to the moment. Each moment. New. Different. And always changing.

--- O --- 0 --- 0 --- 0 --- 0 --- 0 --- 0

A shapeshifter, a magician with a thousand shapes and faces, Cam is a child of the 10th District. A product of the Underworld, an ardent student of survival, she possesses the free spirited mercenary mentality and morality expected by many from the particular class of criminals that thrive in the shadows away from the eyes of the crown-magistrate and their steward-corporations.

At first an unwilling participant in the great hunt, Cam has somehow managed to rise to the lofty, for a card carrying scoundrel, station of a Rank II Cleaner. A fateful encounter with the 10th District security forces, more guns than was pleasant, and the gentle guiding hand of a high level corporate bureaucrat saw the young woman ensnared in a trap. Unable to gnaw off her own leg, metaphorically speaking, Cam has resigned herself to continuing to work as a Cleaner. Unspoken, even to herself, is Cam's growing enjoyment of the Hunt. She feels it in her heart. She feels it in her muscles. And she can feel it growing deep within her bones.

Buried beneath her professional persona, there is a wilderness, a feral creature, a shifting, formless being of instinct that seeks only survival, that seeks only to hunt, and that bristles at the chains that bind her. There are brief signs, subtle hints of the untamed, decidedly animal movements, and wild, soft gestures. When channeling complex magic, Cam possesses an unmistakable set of pronounced canines, and sharp claws kept desperately hidden beneath leather gloves.

Armaments: Contained within a small wooden box strapped to the side of her right hip, in truth a CAT, Cam carries a relic, an ornate dagger, she calls Night Thorn. Blackened obsidian, as dark as midnight, seems to grow like vines from the gnarly oaken shaft, twisting into three sharp thorns that serve as blades.

At a command, the blades shift into vine-like whips covered in thorns that lash out a creatures in range, causing wounds that weep from an organic poison and pulling ensnared targets closer. Placed on the ground and accompanied by the appropriate somatic ritual, the strange dagger will crackle and convulse, before exploding into a rush of grasping weeds and vines that sprout in all directions, entangling all creatures caught in the resulting 120-foot square.

Abilities:

Cam is an intuitive shapeshifter. She isn't a wizard buried in her tomes. She doesn't worry about the theoretical elements of magic. She can't explain how she shapeshifts, only that she does. One form is as good as another. One face is as interesting as the next. She can be anyone. She can be anything. She never much liked her old self anyways. Cam can assume a wide range of forms, but she must have some remembered visual representation of the broad type of creature on which to anchor her specific transformation. Shifting is a painful and difficult process, requiring both vitas and time (dependent on the extent of the transformation). When more subtle transformations are required, Cam can burn small amounts of her vitas, changing specific parts of her body to tap into the heightened senses or strength of her animal shapes.

Inordinately fond of all animals, Cam adores the rats, cats, dogs, birds, and other urban animals that can be found scattered throughout Outis, somehow managing to survive in the inhospitable city. Stemming in equal parts from her affection and experiences with shapeshifting, Cam has a remarkable gift for befriending the small creatures when she encounters them.

Cam moves with a predatory grace, possessing a lazy, effortless efficiency to her movements. She walks quietly and lightly, managing to surprise all but the most observant. She has a nimble, athletic build, and her body bristles with ready muscles. A natural acrobat, she has honed her agility climbing, running, and jumping to get into forbidden places.

Other:

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Emma Badeaux

——————————————————————————————————————


"ℙ𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕗𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜; 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕗𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕝𝕦𝕣𝕜𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟.

𝕀 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕥."


—————————
There was once a young girl that feared the dark.

Born among the neon signs of the wealthy inner districts, she was luckier than most. Her life was not spent entirely in darkness, Outis' eternal night lit up by a sea of artificial light that surrounded her housing district. Most of the time, the darkness only lurked at the edges of her vision, patient, waiting, a threat only if she looked, and she'd learnt not to. It was only come time to sleep, when the servants pulled the blinds and turned off the lights, wishing her goodnight in lieu of her parents, that the darkness swallowed everything.

And there, in the absence of light, lurked the monsters. In her closet, under her bed, watching her, nibbling at her hands and feet if she dared dangle them outside the safety of her blanket. She wanted to scream, but knew she shouldn't. The supernatural could not hurt her. Her parents had said so the few times she'd seen them; had hired cleaners to that end, and they'd never found anything in her room. Only she did. It was all in her head. She was a good girl, and good girls did not wake people up because of things in their heads.

Then, one day, a stranger found his way into her room. A monster, though she didn't know it at the time, for he was not made of darkness and fear - but of flesh and blood. She didn't know what the stranger had already done, not about the state of her parents, not about this man's grudge for the wealthy. Not about the gun behind his back.

She tried to warn the man of her monsters. She knew they'd attack him. So certain was she, that the world bent to her will, and creatures that defied all logic poured out from the shadows to assail the man the second his foot crossed the threshold. His gun was of no help, for what sort of a bullet could pierce darkness?

There were shouts, and then there was silence. Everyone else in the house was dead. The girl was alone.

Except she wasn't. She never had been, and she never would be. But she had made a mess, and her parents always told her to clean up after herself.

Years later, it turned out she was petty good at cleaning.

The girl's name was Emma. Is Emma, because her story isn't over yet.

She turns 18 this year, and no longer fears the dark. She's looked into its depths, seen all its horrors, and given them names. To this day, they come when she calls.
Armaments:

None; petite and untrained in the art of combat on her own, Emma has no skill in wielding any weapon, traditional or otherwise.



Abilities:

Emma is able to manifest the creatures she believes live in the shadows to sunder and devour whatever may stand in their way. Their forms are fluid, always shifting with the whims of her imagination and fears, but they resemble animals more often than not. They did originally spawn from a child's mind, after all, back when beasts were scarier than man. Though of late, some have taken a more humanoid shape, and can even outwardly resemble the types of immortals she's fought recently.

The strength of the creatures varies; in pitch black darkness they can be everywhere all at once, their number limited only by Emma's capability to output vitas. Under the blare of intense neon lights, she struggles to bring them forth anywhere except the darkest of corners.

Other:

- Emma has trouble befriending real life animals, as they tend to shy away from her upon approach.
- She is left handed.
- Always carries around a parasol, which many assume to be a blessed weapon. It's not; it's simply a way to "protect" her from unwanted light.
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