[CHAR] Kite, The Realm Within One's Heart (High All-Around Fantasy RP)

[GreenGoat]

Name: Juno Aulia
Age: 29
Sex: Female
Appearance:

Appearance

She is quite tall, at around 2 meters, with very well defined muscles.

Personality: She was the type of woman no one would really notice, the sort of person who was just part of the background to most. While she tries to keep to herself, trying to make no waves as she goes on with her life, she was very headstrong and stubborn at times, especially when its about something she believes fervently. As such, she made a very good police as she was loyal to her duty, follows procedures exactly while still being reasonable should the person deserves it.

Background: Juno was simply a police officer in Italy, being named after an ancient roman goddess. As with most people, she grew up expecting to be something spectacular, but quickly found that it wasn't as easy as they had made it out to be in school. Having no real goal by then and after hopping from one job to another, Juno got a job as a policewoman, and had stayed as one ever since. With a steady career ahead of her, she didn't really mind the wages, the work hours or anything else really.

Regardless of how people said police pay was peanuts, she was content with her life. There wasn't much that she wanted, except a new book now and then, and the occasional trip to Starbucks when she felt like treating herself. One day however, she was out writing a ticket for a double parked car when she noticed a house's doors left ajar. While normally that wasn't really much of an incident, a hunch made her approach and knock on the door, calling out for the owner of the house. And promptly walked right into a kidnapping underway.

There was a brief scuffle, until she shot out the perp's knees, keeping him at gunpoint until reinforcements arrived. Juno herself had taken four bullets to the torso, taken when he panicked and started shooting at the hostage. She was rushed to a hospital, where she finally collapsed.

Powers: She simply turned into an Oni version of herself, mimicking what she knew from the books she read whenever she was off duty, or had time to kill. The most important part of this is her enormous strength, and her iron skin, being very resistant to mundane weapons.

Personal Motive: There was no real reason. She was asked for help, and that was what she would try to do.

Mementos: Her police badge. She can't leave home without it. Its a symbol of her job after all.

[Ammokkx]

• Name: Kirrian Streem
• Age: 21
• Sex: Male
• Appearance: I like Dreamselfy okay? :c
• Personality: Kirrian is a very quiet and introverted person, usually found somewhere obscure and calm playing his guitar. Shy around people and not all that keen on them either. Even with the few friends he does have there's not much that comes out of the guitarist's mouth.
• Background: Kirrian was a bit of a spoiled child, really having had everything a kid needed due to his rather wealthy parents. They spent time with him too, quite often in fact but it didn't really help with how shy he was later down the line. Apparently they never had the common sense to see someone about his relunctant nature, so instead just gave him whatever Kirrian wanted... Which wasn't much. At young age, sure, he had all the toys. Once hitting around 11 though a fascinating interest with guitars popped up, which he like any child, begged his parents to get him one. And lessons soon followed. At first it looked hopeless, often not having enough patience but once they got going it quickly picked up. Fastforward to middle and high school, people didn't really look at him aside from the odd dye-job in Kirrian's hair. Whenever someone WOULD try to talk he'd just give short answers and back off. The few stubborn ones that kept trying eventually broke through his shell, so lonely he never was. But their patience was constantly tested due to multiple vanishing acts and general avoidance. Now he was in college, with only minimal contact with his highschool friends. Mostly it's been replaced with his roommate, a freakishly medical obsessed girl that had gone mute due to an accident. In return for reading her rants about some new medicine she'd listen to his guitar playing. It was always something calming. Kirrian still oftentimes visited his family, why wouldn't he with how well he was raised? Also, as for he what was in college for? He'd planned on doing isolated work as a computer programmer, so that's what he studied for.
• Powers: With a guitar in hand he can play simple songs to invigorate allies or demotivate enemies, sort of like a bard. For now that's it, simple songs that can manipulate emotions a small amount. The other thing he gained was something more subtle, an ability to mute out the surrounding area. For now, it only affects him, only the things Kirrian wants to hear is what he hears.
• Personal Motive: Kirrian is unsure. Some guilt is there at leaving everyone who knows him, more for their sake than his own, but on the other side there wasn't THAT much to go back to. For now his goal is just to figure out what he wants, or needs, to do.
• Memento(s): The scarf in the image is a silk one he recieved as a gift from his original guitar teacher. Honestly, Kirrian was impressed they had the patience to put up with him and even more so when recieving such a gift. They weren't particulary fond of scarves, but this one he's rather fond of.

[Card Captor]

Name: Johnny. I don't know what my last name is though

Age: 13

Sex: Male

Appearance: Yeah, I know I'm not much to look at

Personality: Honestly, there's not much to say. I'm not used to talking with people much, so I'm kind of quiet. Some people might say that I have a self-esteem problem, but I honestly think that my self-esteem is pretty close to me self worth. After all, if you get told enough times that you're unwanted and unloved, then you start to believe that yourself. Also, I don't think it'll be easy for me to trust people; I've been lied to far too many times. Coupled with my lack of self-worth, and I'll have a hard time believing that anyone could care about me. Doesn't mean I can't try to humor them though. It's strange though; despite how lonely I am, I'm not depressed or anything like that. I feel like I've come to terms with it and become...not happy but, I think 'okay' with my life.

Background: Honestly, I don't have much of a background; I'm just an unwanted orphan. I've been at the orphanage for as long as I can remember, it's a pretty crappy place. Even if there was enough food and space for everyone there, I feel like my emotional needs were never fulfilled. I was always alone; even where other kids my age started breaking off into their own little groups, I found myself left out. I'm not sure why or how, but it supported the 'no one could ever want me' thing that people kept telling me. I tried to reach out to others, tried to make friends, but it never worked. Eventually I just gave up, I stopped thinking it was worth the effort. That's pretty much all I have to say about my life before. Other then what I've just said, nothing really noteworthy or even memorable happened. I suppose that's why I'm excited to be in this new place; I don't feel like I'm leaving anything behind

Powers: Ever since I got here, this thing that keeps following me. Even if I can't see it, I know it's still there, I can feel it's presence. Not only that, but when it does show up, it appears out of nowhere and really close to me. I'm not sure what it wants, but at least it doesn't want to hurt me. To be honest, it's almost like it's protecting me. I really hope it's just trying to protect me, because it looks strong enough to rip me in half, and fast enough to catch me if I try to run. However, the strangest thing about it is these words that pop into my head whenever I look at it

Believe In Nexus

I'm not sure what that means. Although...it could be it's name

Personal Motive: I don't want much, really I don't. All I'm looking for is something to stop the loneliness. It feels awful, being surrounded by other people, yet feeling isolated. I just want someone, anyone to make me feel like I matter, someone who will care if I live to see tomorrow, someone who will stand by my side. That's not too much to ask for...is it?

Mementos: I guess this rusty ring I have might count. I'm not sure where it came from, but something inside of me just won't let me get rid of it. I guess I'm hoping it was my parent's, that it would mean that someone cared for me

[Treepuncher121]

Note: character has not been accepted and was posted here accidentally.

Ignore

Name: Real- Chad Formost Other-Invariant

Age: 18

Sex: Male

Appearance: Fairly tall, about 5’11 or 6 foot. Medium length blackish brownish hair that goes to above his ears. His eyes are a light blue. His chin is slightly pointed and his lips are slim. His noise is not large or smile about average size. The shape is pretty normal. (I included a picuture as refrance)

Personality: Chad is a happy fellow. Usually smiling and trying to cheer others on. He’s always happy to meet a stranger and help them. Even though close friends and family members have warned him that this trait might end up putting him in a sticky situation, Chad refuses to listen. Chad always tries to make others happy even if it means he isn’t. He would rather see somebody else with his own happiness.

Background: Chad’s family is one that is very loving and caring, always cheering him on and supporting him. In school he picked up playing the double bass and fencing. Throughout high school his older brother, Tony, convinced him to drop the talent of double and work solely on sword play. Chad, always looking up to his older siblings, did just that. Even though he still knows how to play double bass, he has practiced fencing more and more over the years. Everyday after school he would go and practice, always putting off his homework until last minute. At the start of his SR. year of highschool he went off and won the national championship. After nationals he went to Japan for about a month and tried for global. While he was there he picked up kindo and got 2nd in the global fencing championship.

Power(s): Chad only has one known power so far. It’s more of a social power. This power helps in social situations when he wants to seem more friendly, trustworthy and helpful. Example: A kid has lost her parents, Chad approaches. “Hello, what’s wrong?” Chad asks, concerned. The little girl seems weary of Chad and doesn’t want to answer. Chad smiles and actives the power he was given. Suddenly the kid feels more delighted around the stranger. She smiles back and tells him what is wrong.
This power could not be used if the person is a hostile and is trying to cause harm to Chad or anybody else.

Motives: Chad’s only motive is to see his friends home and help the world of Kite along with the Human world. As long as he does this, and maybe gets better and sword play along the way, he is alright. Knowing that he helped the world(s) is enough for him.

Mementos: The only things that came over with Chad were a small golden pocket watch his grandfather had given him before his passing had and necklace belonging to his great grandmother. The necklace was a small, silver, heart shaped locket with no pictures inside.

[AtomicNut]

Name: Ricardo Caballero "Rickie"
Age: 30
Sex: Yes please—- I mean male

Appearance: Okay, well I'm a little fat. Okay, maybe not a little. I'm fat. I'm trying to slim down, but sucess has been moderate. I'm also rather tall and broad- about 1.85 m if you ask. I have brown eyes, tan skin, an awesome bandido moustache which some people ridicule and scruffy short hair. I used to be as blind as mole and in need of glasses, but since I entered this world I don't need them. Curious, huh?

Personality: I'm a guy who likes his personal space, so I don't like crowds, and excessively pushy people. Heck, I am so introverted I even hesitate when i have to adress strangers. Besides that, I'm an okay-ish guy of sort, bit depressive and with low self esteem, but one who's kind and usually takes jokes well, and often talks joking. I like to know about everything sciency-ish, and I'm a big fan of fantasy, pen and paper roleplaying, history and tales of chivalry. I am also a man of honor, and I like to uphold my given word as much as I can. I suffer no cheaters, no liars and I despise malicious people. I am aware I have a darker side when angered and I can be pretty vindictive with people I think deserve some comeuppance, but you have to try hard to make me draw that line, I assure you.

Background: Okay, I'm a guy from hispanic descent, but that's a given granted my name is Ricardo. I had enough sense when I was a kid to endure, shut up and learn. So I didn't fall in the easy way outs of being a teenager delinquent and I was diligent in my studies. It paid off big as I became a scientist of sorts, and not half bad at it.
But well, things didn't go as I had planned in my mind. I was squeezed without mercy by unscrupulous losses and I could qualify my social life as anecdotical and non existant. I was the target of professional bullying and that almost made me break. Until I drew the line and stood up, exposing the scumbags of my bosses in the process. I was fired. But hey, at least I watched them drowning in lawsuits by other people and being mercilessly devoured by the system. Time to start anew, I guess. But that wasn't working for some reason and I ended up as a borderline-depressed hermit unable to find job or friends. Kinda sucks.

Powers: You mean, besides the talking voice? GET OUT OF MY HEAD ITS PRIVATE. Just kidding. Well, I could also count my ability to do SCIENCE! but that doesn't work in this world doesn't it? Bugger. Ah there's something else. Even since I set foot on this kind of Middle-Earth-meets-Elm-Street knockoff some weird knowledge is nesting inside my brain folds. I'd say they are magic recipes. So yes, I might be on my way to become a wizard. But pretty much the only thing I can do now is heal some stuff (like I did with my bad eyesight), levitate a bit and toss some kind of sparkly fizzly magic ball... and I have to do the whole hand waving, concentrating, chanting and sometimes using ritual stuff, i guess. I'll probably get better at it though. Knowledge is power and that.

Personal Motive:This one's a no brainer. I want a decent living, a cute wife, a couple of kids and live a mostly calm and quiet life. But hey, I can't turn a blind eye to an honest plea for help so I'll tag along in the adventure. Heck, I might also find cute fantasy girls aswell. And the perspective of a lifelong study of this world is also appealing, too...

Mementos: My old scientist ID card. It's now just a piece of plastic, but it makes me remember the best of me, on how I helped humanity as whole developing knowledge.

[Tricheus]

Name: Linnea Falk
Age: 11
Sex: Female

Appereance

At around 4 foot tall, Linnea is a thin and tiny girl with a kind face that is used to smiling and vivid light-green eyes that hide Linnea's yearning for freedom from the prison that is her frail body. Slow of movement, a quiet voice and long, ethereal white hair give her the feeling of a wintry ghost in slow motion. She wears oversized hand-me-down dress shirts and sweaters over dresses and skirts for convenience sake, but prefers jeans and pants whenever she has the strength to put them on.

Personality: Linnea is a melancholy mix of kindness, sadness, curiosity/naiveté, and in stark contrast to her weak body, an iron will and determination. She has found it her personal calling to be kind-hearted and almost always has a smile on her face and a greeting for others. But, Linnea doesn't really laugh. She smiles often, most of them forced, but she's used to it. Her sadness and anguish comes from the fact that she feels she is a burden on her family, and that she misses them so much. Her smile is a way for her to hide/push away the sadness so that others wont worry over her and to show how appreciative she is.
Because of her sheltered upbringing, she is very curious about the outside world, it's peoples and cultures. She can be very curious about strangers, but too shy to ask too many questions. She loves all cuisine and is always willing to try new food. She also really loves flowers! Her most used color is white, but her favorite color is yellow. She has a strange and almost unconscious habit of picking up small objects to fiddle with while she is deep in thought or engaged in conversation, and then later realizing she has the object and not knowing where she got it from.

Background: Linnea grew up in a loving but struggling family with a single mother who worked herself to the bone, and an older brother who dreamed of going to college, then making it big and bringing prosperity to their poor family. Linnea always had a weak health and constitution, but a year ago she was diagnosed with a rare muscle disease. She could still walk, but she got tired very quickly and easily, and the doctors said it would only get worse.
It was then, because of expensive medical costs, that her brother decided to quite school to take on multiple jobs and help out the family, but the mother wouldn't allow it and there were many arguments. They finally decided that the brother would at least finish high school before joining the workforce, but even then, the mother was heart broken that her hard work couldn't even allow her son to go to college. Linnea saw all this. Saw how much they loved her and worked hard for her. She loved them So much! But she could do nothing for them. So she smiled for them. Even if she would cry and cry on the inside, she would and least smile and show her appreciation for being loved so much.
On her eleventh birthday they took her to a nearby flower plantation where they had a fun and peaceful day enjoying the flowers, the sun, and a picnic. Her mother and brother both got her a white poppy flower each, which made Linnea really happy. But then, her mother cried. She cried and begged for forgiveness for not being able to give Linnea a better birthday, a better life. Linnea and her brother both tried to soothe her, but they both ended up crying instead, all of them holding onto each other.
The next day, Linnea packed a duffle bag, left a loving goodbye note on the kitchen table, and left home...

Powers: Linnea's powers basically give her stereotypical ghost abilities. She can hover as if she is in a zero-g state, but she can control her direction and orientation with ease. She can't fly very fast (yet), only at normal walking pace. She can also become immaterial and phase through objects and people. Eventually, she may be able to make objects and other people fly and phase like she can, as long as she is touching it/them.

Personal Motive: Linnea doesn't know how she will ever be able to do it, but she wants to one day become able-bodied and financially successful so that she can take care of her mother and brother, who have both sacrificed so much to care and love her. She wants to return that 10 fold.
A small goal in her life is to sample/experience all the types of food from around the world.

Mementos: Other than a duffle bag of clothing, she brought with her a family photo album with 2 pressed white poppy blossoms in it (one with a blue ribbon, and one with a green ribbon). Linnea felt really bad for taking the photo album, but she needs it, and will occasionally look through it to reinforce her determination.

[The_written_John]

Name:

Johnathan McKenna

Age:

19

Sex:

Male

Appearance:

Standing at six feet and two inches tall, Johnathan is physically chubby in appearance, a caucasian male having a set of long incredibly dark brown hair that reaches half way down his back, however tied near the head into a ponytail, the hair is swept back neatly as a result, he also possesses a soul patch beard upon his chin. Despite his age, his facial features are reminiscent of that of a 15 year old, with less serious, innocent light blue eyes. His outfit consists of a long sleeve pure black cotton shirt, a brown belt tied around his waist, a pair of dark jeans and a pair of black high-rock punk boots. A fake silver necklace is also adorned by him, a pendent attached.

Personality:

Johnathan is both a realist and a pessimist, years of torment and suffering have caused him to become ferociously independent, craving the desire of safety, craving the desire to be loved, he is affectionate, loving and selfless, seeing himself as nothing but a worthless maggot, a pest and a piece of dirt, he would gladly give his life for someone else, despite him greatly fearing the thought of dying. Despite his selfless attitude, Johnathan can be a control freak and rather demanding, fearful of being forgotten, fearful of being left behind, Johnathan tries for force scenarios to go a certain way, to aid him at times, unknowingly by himself, Johnathan deep down is a coward, and weak, and possesses a mass amount of self-loathing, a trait which has been brought upon him from his horrible life thus far.

Background:

Johnathan grew up in Belfast ireland, along the antrim region, a happy and optimistic young lad, with minor autism, however due to this minor setback, others would treat him differently, as he grew up, he found out that, he had no talent, no skills, no reason to exist, to top it off, as he grew up, the friends who he met over the course of 19 years merely abused their relationship with him, one raped him out of mere pleasure, despite the boy not desiring any sexual intercourse with his friend, and was abused horrifically and assaulted during coitus, with his "friend" getting off scot free with the crime. He had another friend during his life, who was an abusive drug addicted asshole, who beat and assaulted Johnathan for fun, bullied him into he cried and kicked him around as if he were nothing more than a toy. Another friend simply used him for entertainment, didn't see a human who was weeping and crying, just a broken toy who wouldn't entertain his narcissistic desires, and finally, the last friend Johnathan ever had stomped over his life and crushed the joy within, the only one he could call his best friend merely pitied him, and didn't care about what he felt or the struggles he has experienced, he didn't even care, and turned his back on the weeping depressed male, punishing him to a life of loneliness..

Johnathan has a single father, his mother died of suffocation when Johnathan was merely 13, The emotional shock came to Johnathan as he slept beside her the very night she passed away, forced to stare into her cold lifeless eyes as he woke up, traumatising him with his mothers death.

From watching people die, to being stabbed, to being shot to being mugged, to being abused, tortured and tormented, Johnathan became weak, dependent and pitiful, he was worthless and deserved death in his own eyes, and as he grew up, he simply was alone, playing videogames, doing homework, trying to pass his A-level to get into a good college, not that it mattered, he was going to die painfully one way or another. It was one night, as Johnathan woke up the next working, scissors in his hand, contemplating his thoughts when he was transported to this peculier and strange realm... What awaited him was anyones guess... Maybe he could become... useful.

Powers:

Johnathan is a talentless entity, he has no skills, and no positives, what kind of power could he be given if he is talentless in all fields? Like in the world of humans, atleast for now, Johnathan in this world is nothing but a skilless loser, not surprising, his pessimistic and lack of power completely crushes his enthusiasm, it makes sense he'd be totally worthless here to.

Personal Motive:

He wants to be loved, he wants to feel safe, to feel comfort, to be free of pain, free of anxiety, free of suffering, but alive, he wants to live in a perfect world, where everyone can be joyful, be happy and be happy for johnathan, is it so much to ask for a boy who has gone through nothing but endless hardship and horrible torture to be given such a life? Would it be such a bad thing? To grant eternal happiness to both worlds?

Mementos:

Johnathan has no mementos, nothing he keeps on his person can remind him of any good event, everything he once had belonging to his own friends were personally burned by himself, he wasn't going to let their possessions poison his mind like that, and so, Johnathan lacks mementos

[daltar]

• Name: Susan Brooks
• Age: 21 years old
• Sex: Female
• Appearance: Well... I know I'm kind of pretty and thankful about it. Nothing to write home about, but I look at myself in the mirror and I can smile about what I see and others get a good impression. I'm about average of heigh, standing at about 1,65 meters of height and light of weight. My build overall is kind of slender and fit... feminine but with subtle curves. My breasts are on the small side which is comfortable enough and I got my hips and butt to be proud off, neither are big really but they got a nice shape to them. My legs are also long for my size. My skin is kinda pale but it gets a nice color when I go out and get in the sun for a while. Finally my face... it's a pretty face, can't complain. Generally pleasing, though to stop most people in their tracks. I do have a nice smile and I'm glad for it. If you smile at people, it's very heartening to see them smile back at you, no? Ah... finally, my eyes are kind of ocean blue in tone and my hair, left to reach halfway down my back, is raven black and straight. Oh, and I also do have a bit of a scar on my torso... on my right side.
• Personality: An introvert to begin with... I enjoy my time alone and while I seek out others for fun and engagement, I need time by myself to truly charge up my batteries. I'm proud to say that I'm an emotional person... I would never trade that part of myself. I cry at sad movies or when I remember them, I laugh at jokes and try to smile and say thank you and excuse me to everyone I meet. However, that goes for the good emotions... and feeling is not the same as expressing them. As much as I'm glad to be emotional... I'm glad to be able to control my emotions. That doesn't mean I feel whatever I want... but rather, that I can control my actions even when swept by strong emotion. Sometimes I slip... snap at someone when frustrated or the like, but most of the time I'm glad to be able to show a smile even if I feel under the weather. That's because I don't want to regret the actions I take. And I don't want to hurt those around me. Whatever I do, I want to mean it in my heart and mind. I also... kinda like justice. And the goodness. The sort of heroic things you read in books and watch on TV. I never really grew up from liking such fantasy, such wonder. I like dazzling and great heroes... and despise those who cause harm without thinking twice about it. Those who would harm and kill, who would be selfish enough to care not for the feelings of other as they hurt them. I thought long and hard about such things... and despite knowing that great heroes aren't all that real... that all villains have their motives, their anguish and other all too human motives to push them forward... I still can't forgive them. And I don't want to let go of the feelings in my heart. I love this world of mine with all of my heart... and at the same time, I hate it. I love it because it is what I know... because it is filled with color, with love, with nice people, with amazing inventions, great tastes and scents. And I hate it... by how unfair it can be, how simple, how hard and unchangeable. I also seem to like talking about myself, don't you think?
• Background: My story is mostly like many others. Two loving parents, a privileged life. I didn't mind being alone when I was little, but I was with people I wanted them to laugh. I jumped and laughed, I made faces and told jokes. I loved being called pretty and clever, loved the smiling laughing faces and the praise. It's funny on retrospect... At this age I fell in love with heroes while at the same time being as far away of them as I could be. I was very active when playing and loving to make people laugh I started teasing others. It seemed like good fun... but I never took into account the feelings of those I made fun of. Some took it well. Some joked back at me. But some I hurt... little enough that I didn't truly notice. Or didn't want to notice. It wasn't until later... once I truly caught the tearful, wrathful face of one I made fun off... to see them transfer out of school to escape me and the bullies that were my friends that it all started to sink in. That I began to notice the sad faces, the hurt feelings. I wasn't so funny then when I began to backtrack. For a while I tried to deny it... but as I held back more and more, I lost my place among some of my friends. I got more time alone... and as I got to think of what I did I felt shame, sadness and hurt. I restrained myself and my emotions from showing. Spent more time alone and in the company of my heroes of fantasy. Grew more serious and subdued... even if I took a step in the right direction, my sadness did lead my thoughts astray more than a few times. But I grew past that. I got the end of adolescence with a smile on my lips... as I learned restraint, but more importantly, to take into account the feelings of others. I learned to make people smile in other ways... kind words to those passing by, common courtesies to those having a bad time, smiling just for the joy of meeting someone else. It was a good time for me and perhaps the world wasn't as perfect as in stories... however, so long as I took it all in with optimism things would be just fine. That is... until I got mugged. My city tends to be a relatively good place to live and I seldom saw anything make me fear. However, as I walked back from visiting a friend at night I got stopped by a man demanding my purse. I wasn't carrying anything all that valuable... only my keys, the simplest makeup, too little cash for it to matter and the like. The situation felt surreal to me... but at the same time, I was crystal clear in thought as it all happened. I should have given it to him... showed I was carrying nothing of value. That was the smart and the right thing to do. But I didn't. I bit my lip and I refused. I said no over and over again. Because... it wasn't right for this man to rob me. Because I had not done anything bad to him to deserve him to rob me, to threaten me. Because I didn't want to be a victim... I didn't want to give in to crime, to robbery. To the stuff in stories and TV. So I struggled. I was dead afraid. But I was also angry. And for it all, I got stabbed in the side... felt the cold steel of his folding knife digging into my skin... the puncture. The cut. The pain, wobbliness, the coldness. Darkness creeping on the side of my vision. And yet I held onto my purse... I continue to struggle. I cried out loud and finally he went away. I almost died that night... and over and over I got told how stupid I was to fight. And I told them I was. But in a dark corner of my mind... I was proud. Because I didn't give in. A bit... no, plenty crazy. But I stuck my ground. And as happy as I was for that, I was twenty times more scared. Because I felt the coldness. The weakness of blood leaving your body... making movement and thought sluggish and painful. I almost died because someone wanted the 22 dollars I carried on my purse. And had they had a gun, I would definitely be dead... into the beyond... or worse, nothingness. And while I'm alive now... now I know it. I will struggle again when faced with such an event. And next time, I won't be so lucky. No matter how much I struggle... in the world I come from, one bullet means I'm out. No matter my views... my emotions, my desire for good and justice. My world is cold and hard that way. But... that isn't the case in this new world, is it?
• Powers: Two things, I have found... One is my body. I was a bit athletic before... but now I feel a step beyond that. My body is improved... it feels lighter, stronger, faster. I got more energy and I'm more fit that I was before. I can carry more without being tired... and I'm stronger than I remember. I guess, that comes from wanting to be a hero... a body capable of doing great things. To fight and struggle... to resist more. However... that is not all. I can move things away from myself... it's a force. I can pick up stuff from afar, push things... like telekinesis. I can feel the weight of it... of what I'm exerting. It gets weaker the farther I try to exert the power and stronger the closer I do. The power is invisible when I'm moving little weight... but the more power I exert, the more a blue aura appears, giving color to the force I'm exerting.
• Personal Motive: I want to improve myself, in this world without boundaries. I want to look it all... meet new people. If there is bad... I wish to combat it. To bring smiles to people around me. And at the end of the day... I want to be happy as well. To take a corner and build up my life and powers. If possible I'd like to visit my world again... but not if it means leaving behind the powers I found... and this colorful land of my fantasies.
• Mementos: Just two things I got... One is the folding knife that almost took my life. The robber left it stuck to my side, you see... and I asked to keep it. I haven't really parted with it ever since. The other thing is a silver necklace my mom bought me after I got out of the hospital... a small thing, but I know how much she wanted to cheer me up... and it reminded me of how much she cares for me and loves me. I do... want to see her again and dad too... my friends and my life. But picking... picking is hard.

[Skyrte]

Stas

Name: Stannis "Stas" Krolikov

Age: 24

Sex: Male

Appearance: Stas was unfortunately not gifted with jaw dropping features. He looks similar to the average Russian. Brown hair, which he maintains as a military buzzcut. He has a bit of an angular face, he enjoys being clean shaven, but at the time of transportation he hadn't shaved in a couple of days. Resulting in a bit of a stubble. Dark brown eyes. He is fit and fairly well bodied, although he would have been at his prime if he were transported about a year before. He is somewhat short, standing at 5 feet, 3 inches.
Reference picture
At time of transport, he is wearing his hiking attire. Olive green cargo pants, tucked into his combat boots. A grey tee-shirt with a leather jacket on top, with fur on the inside, keeping him nice and warm. He has a red ribbon tied around his neck and tucked into his shirt, hidden by the white Shemagh scarf, which is also tied around his neck.

Personality: Stas was raised with very good morals, but throughout his life he had come to learn that sometimes good is not always good. Despite that he always does his best to do the most good he can. Stas himself is a stoic person, most things strike as unsurprising to him, because of that he rarely shows strong emotion. He'll chuckle, smile a bit, frown a bit, scowl maybe. But the time when he is most animated is when he is doing something exciting. He often makes humor in the form of sarcasm and understatements, a friend of his once called Stas the king of understatements. This derives from Stas' simplicity, if something is broken, you fix it. No matter how complex. You take it one step at a time, and figure it out. If there is an obstacle, you get over it. Stas has a very practical mind, he likes to think about gears, machinery, how things work, problem solving, among other things.

Background: Stas was born into a Russian family living in the United States. Making him, well, a Russian-American. As a child, and throughout most of his school life he was a very quiet child. Making few friends, mostly just doing homework and playing computer games. This continued up until high school, where he joined the schools marching band. This is where he learned to socialize, to speak louder, how to laugh.
Then came college, he opted to go to a community college. Where he mostly was aimless in life, having no specific goal. With funds getting tight, he decided to put his education on hiatus and join the military to get some experience in life, and to get some extra cash. In the military, he became a US Army Ranger. He learned how to survive, to fight, earned some friends and a few scars as well. When he finished his tour of duty, he went home and continued his education with renewed vigor. Although he never really abandoned his lazy and procrastinating ways, which the military had failed to pound out of him. He went on with his hobbies of world building, playing video games with his crew, cooking, but now he had a few others. Notably doing work, keeping himself relatively fit, and going outside a bit more.

Powers: Upon waking up from the transportation, Stas will find a spear right next to him, on the ground. He recognizes this as Cazavar, Spear of The Frozen Peaks, a spear he made for a hero in one of his world building projects. When he grips it, he vaguely remembers the battles that Cazavar and its wielder, Sir Valik, has been through. It also emanates a certain chill, not quite a frostbiting cold but a perceptible few degrees drop.
Stas' ability is to bring things he thinks up of into reality, there are limitations to this however. It cannot be living, if he thinks up an apple and creates it, it will look like an apple and feel like one, but it isn't an apple. A person can't eat it, much less even cut it. As of right now, he cannot make more than one. He can summon a shield of whatever fashion he likes, what kind of material, what shape and its thickness, but he will feel its weight. As he can summon things, he can de-summon them, freeing up the space for something else. As he becomes more proficient with this ability, he will be able to more items, but the rule of 'it cannot be living' will stick no matter how powerful he becomes with this ability. However, learning contemporary summoning magic, with his own special summoning magic working in tandem, he may be able to summon a living being, or a few. Every item he summons will have a faint white aura glowing around it, it aids in distinguishing which is summoned and which is not.
The exception to the rules above is Cazavar, the spear the appears next to him when he first enters Kite. The spear is for all intents and purposes, the real Cazavar. However, it appears to not be quite in tune yet. The original would have the strength of the icy mountain peaks behind it, being able to pierce all but the most powerful of enchanted armors. However, the current one at the time of transportation is mostly a normal spear that looks like the genuine Cazavar. As Stas' becomes more skilled with the use of the spear, its power will grow with Stas' own power. Eventually, becoming the one and only Cazavar, Spear of The Frozen Peaks.

Cazavar profile

-Cazavar, Spear of The Frozen Peaks. A masterfully made 8 foot spear, made to hit with the force of the icy mountain peaks behind it. The shaft is made of cornel wood, an extremely strong wood, wrapped with the black leather of The Obsidian Bear. The steel spear tip is similar to a boar spear tip, with lugs behind the spear blade, aiding in parry or hooking. The other end of the spear has a sauroter spike. Both ends are emblazoned with ancient runes of The Frostvein Ridges.

Personal Motive: Stas is conflicted about staying or leaving. On one hand, he would be leaving everything he had ever known, on the other, he would be living in his dream come true, basically. He hasn't made his mind up yet, however, he had been brought here for a purpose. And he will find out for what, and if he deems it just, he will see the task through.

Mementos:
-A red ribbon, about a meter in length, roughly 4 inches wide.
-A white patterned Shemagh scarf.

[Treepuncher121]

Name: Real- Chad Formost Other-Invariant

Age: 18

Sex: Male

Appearance: Fairly tall, about 5’11 or 6 foot. Medium length blackish brownish hair that goes to above his ears. His eyes are a light blue. His chin is slightly pointed and his lips are slim. His noise is not large or smile about average size. The shape is pretty normal. (I included a picuture as refrance)

Personality: Chad is a happy fellow. Usually smiling and trying to cheer others on. He’s always happy to meet a stranger and help them. Even though close friends and family members have warned him that this trait might end up putting him in a sticky situation, Chad refuses to listen. Chad always tries to make others happy even if it means he isn’t. He would rather see somebody else with his own happiness.

Background: Chad’s family is one that is very loving and caring, always cheering him on and supporting him. In school he picked up playing the double bass and fencing. Throughout high school his older brother, Tony, convinced him to drop the talent of double and work solely on sword play. Chad, always looking up to his older siblings, did just that. Even though he still knows how to play double bass, he has practiced fencing more and more over the years. Everyday after school he would go and practice, always putting off his homework until last minute. At the start of his SR. year of highschool he went off and won the national championship. After nationals he went to Japan for about a month and tried for global. While he was there he picked up kindo and got 2nd in the global fencing championship.

Power(s): Chad has the power to see the weak spots of his enemies. The only thing is multiple spots show up at once. There is a 50-50 shot that the spot he chooses to attack is a real weak spot. The spots light up red in his field of vision, kind of like inferred. (Example: Chad is fighting a monster. Four red spots show up. Two are real, two are fake). If Chad attacks a non weak spot usually something bad happens depending on the thing he is fighting. Animals might rage, humans might take advantage of him while fighting.

Motives: Chad’s only motive is to see his friends home and help the world of Kite along with the Human world. As long as he does this, and maybe gets better and sword play along the way, he is alright. Knowing that he helped the world(s) is enough for him.

Mementos: The only things that came over with Chad were a small golden pocket watch his grandfather had given him before his passing had and necklace belonging to his great grandmother. The necklace was a small, silver, heart shaped locket with no pictures inside.

[LetterA]

Name:
Argo "Coco" Dolus

Age:
Twenty-seven

Sex:
Male

Appearance:

If anything, Coco doesn't look his age. Shorter than the average person, he stands at an inch under five feet even, matching with an airy eighty three pounds. He's got a full head of soft black hair and large dark eyes that only serve to make him seem younger. His skin is soft and naturally tanned, littered here and there only with a rainbow of bruises, and despite the softness of his cheeks, Coco's hands are rough and calloused. He is thin- unhealthily so- but is also rather athletic in the flexible sense. He has a fluidity about his movements that make him seem as though he's dancing. Prior to arriving in Kite, he was blind in one eye- the right- and although it was healed, the scar cutting through his bottom lashline is still visible. Coco's obsession with the number three derives from the number of moles on his body- three on his face (two over his glabella, and one right over the left side of his lip), six on the back of his right thigh in the shape of the Lyra constellation), and nine littering each arm (two on his left shoulder and two on his left forearm, then three forming a line over his right middle knuckle, and two more over his elbow).

Personality:
For the most part, Coco is rather agreeable, in the sense you tell him what to do and he'll nod his head and do it. There's a limit to his deference, however, and in order for him to stay loyal, he has to be reminded of the other side's power. Like a cheating snake waiting for his time, Coco will strike and rebel if the one bossing him around shows signs of weakness, or hesitation. Coco prefers the company of others, as he doesn't trust himself alone. He is very good at using his face and voice to express emotions, and can often be found mirroring other people's body language. He laughs easily, and has pitched up his voice for so long, it's a surprise whenever he speaks in his low tone. Overall, Coco can act much like any other child, but underneath, his own age and experiences aren't forgotten.

Background:

Hider

Coco was born in the ghettos of Philippines, the third of five children. He lost his youngest brother to the ocean after a fishing trip when he was six, and his eldest brother was sent to live with their aunt in the city so he could go to school. Every summer the eldest visited and gave the three brothers lessons. For the most part the family made their money the same way the others in the neighborhood did, by gathering trash and trying to sell them off. Sometimes their mother would make something edible that they could sell, and if they were lucky and the food became too spoiled for sale, the brothers could split it between themselves to eat.

When Coco was nine, he met his first American. He was tall- taller than his father who he once thought to be the tallest man in the world- and had a pink head with glittering gold hair. He teased with his two brothers that the man was like a very large baby. A very large and hairy baby. Needless to say, the American piqued the interest of the neighborhood kids, they followed him around with curiosity. The man, as it turns out, was a photographer for some magazine. He took a shining to Coco's older brother and spent a lot of time with him- and despite Coco's expressed interest in learning photography as well, he was never included in their time together.

And perhaps he didn't want to know. When he was eleven and the man came once more for his yearly visit, Coco saw something strange and foreign from the window of the man's run down apartment. He wasn't sure if his older brother had been doing this every time or it was just that one time and he'd just happen to see it, but Coco was sure that it was disgusting. Shooed away by the landlord, the young boy scampered off.

A year later he confronted the man. He spoke softly. His voice was deep and convinced Coco he made a mistake, he wasn't a bad guy. But when the man tried to urge him into his room to have a talk, something rattled in Coco's bones. It didn't feel right. He was still small then- smaller than he is now- but he was energetic. In his tugging and pulling an fighting and wailing, Coco was in an adrenaline rush. He didn't even realize he blacked out till he woke up in his bedroom with searing pain in his right eye. Apparently in the struggle he'd gotten hit with a bottle, shards cutting into his eye.

His mother thought he lashed out and often apologized to the man when he came by. She was happy that he was still willing to give Coco's older brother lessons despite Coco's "outburst", and expressed it by sharing with him food that they barely had. Coco became more reliant with his younger brother, who helped rehabilitate his new half sight and played games with him. They often went around trying to sell rubbish in the city, spending whatever meager coins they earned on hot foods that they split between themselves.

When the eldest came home that summer, he noticed the divide- Coco and his younger brother always together, the older of the two seen more with other kids their age. He tried to make peace between them, befriending Coco and his older brother. This happened over a span of a few years, and when it seemed as though Coco's reliance shifted towards the eldest, the younger brother started to worry. See, in the family, there was a line of command- naturally from mother to father down to the brothers. Because of Coco's situation however, rather than oldest to youngest, the commands went from eldest, second eldest, younger brother, then Coco. Not usually having been this way, the younger brother obviously enjoyed being able to push on his chores to someone else for a change. So when Coco started being reliant on the eldest, the younger brother became intimidated. He caused a situation where he reminded Coco that he was the one Coco needed. That the eldest was weak and unreliable.

Despite his efforts, Coco was taken away at the age of eighteen by a man from the city. At this point, it was evident that Coco had long stopped growing and had started forming his way of life- rely and cheat. The city man found his childish appearance and all-knowing eye to be mysterious, paying off his parents in exchange for Coco. He never heard from his family again, much less saw them spare in the crowds of the city where the faces melted into familiar ones.

It was his first time in the city, and it was no different from the ghettos spare the tall buildings and the many automobiles. There was still trash everywhere and peddlers everywhere and children as small and hungry as he was. Coco lived his life in the city as the city man's money maker- he was dressed in fancy clothes and thick paint and made to dance or sing (though he only knew the small rhyming songs for street games so that act was cut). Foreigners visited and though Coco had long been disillusioned by blonde hair and pink skin, it would've been a lie to say he didn't enjoy being petted and called lovely. It was here that the chopped up English he had learned was smoothed out and cleaned. He learned bits and pieces of other languages too (he likes to say danke, though he doesn't know what languages it is), but his English really smoothed out. He even faked accents now and again, though they were bad and his Filipino ring still came through. Somehow the whole thing was called off after two years into it, and Coco found himself wrapped up in a blanket and being carried away by the city man. Apparently the money that'd been put in was supposed to be for his eye surgery which even he didn't know about, and someone had reported him for child trafficking (which was strange to Coco who didn't know what the word meant and also didn't know there were other children involved).

The two found themselves in the streets and quickly lost the money they'd earned with the city man's panicked spending and though Coco danced, the people simple walked by- there was nothing interesting to watch there. Just another hungry child desperately making money. Coco pushed the city man to rob several convenience stores and even suggested to do it himself, but the strong money maker of a man had fallen into paranoia. He couldn't decide between "Yes rob them, give me their money" or "No, we'll get caught don't do it." So Coco got angry and broke the man's legs with a pipe in his sleep before running off on his own.

It became a sort of back and forth of him being handed from one tricky mind to another, Coco learning the way they spoke or thought so that he could become a fitting right hand. Any time they showed a bit of hesitation or weakness- be it in physicality or mentality- Coco would leave.

Once, he found himself alone without him meaning to- a robbery had gone botched and the police saved him, the "hostage", from his source. Coco cried and followed after the police officer who tried to lead him to his parents, and managed to escape. He was twenty four and lost, not having planned this escape. An array of bad luck hit him like a storm. His natural mysterious charm failed to attract any one willing to take him in- a child began to be seen as a burden and no one dared think Coco was anything more. He made his living by picking the pockets of dead people in the gutters, selling rubbish for a coin. It seemed he hit the jackpot, however, when he found a body with a box of unopened cigarettes and a lighter. Each cig was a coin more than usual, and to celebrate, he kept the lighter with him. It seemed to bring him luck, as immediately after he sold his last cigarette, a woman offered him half her sandwich. She then took him under his wing and Coco's familiar rotation started up once more.

Powers:
Upon arrival at Kite, Coco has realized something strange about his body. Yes, he is still small and flexible, and yes he feels a bit lighter despite at the same time still being hungry, but there was something else. His eye, for one, was healed and though the upgrade was jarring at first, he found it worked much like his left. What did work differently was his body. He'd never felt freezing cold before except for when eating ice cream, but sometimes his body would become chilled. Other times his body would flare up with heat- unbearable, fiery heat like the hot summers of his homeland. He can transfer these temperatures onto other things, and can either be cold enough to freeze something he touches, or light it on fire. Either one is an uncomfortable feeling though- like having rubber bands tightly wound around your body.

Personal Motive:
Some peace would be nice, he thinks. He wants some time where he doesn't have to worry much about eating or money, and just sit for a while. Coco doesn't know if he wants to go home or stay in Kite, but he does know he just wants some down time.

Mementos:
Coco carries around with him a small white Bic lighter that he can't light unless with his left hand. There's a blue smudge of ink on its side, and he's not sure if it was once writing or just a smudge. He's also got a chain necklace with a cross charm on it that he likes touching- it's one of the nicer things he found in the trash. Probably isn't real gold, but who cares, it feels right around his neck.

[McFazzer]

Edwin Gordon

Name: Edwin Gordon
Age: 23
Sex: Male

Appearance: Standing at 165 cm and 59 kg Edwin is lean with the build of someone who has done long distance running most of their life. Platinum blond hair cut in a Pompadour style with streaks of cobalt blue dye spiraling throughout perfectly matching his striking eyes. Wearing a slightly paint stained white dress shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows and navy blue jeans Edwin isn't exactly the cleanest figure, but he looks comfortable and content. Edwin's hands, while not thick and strong, are heavily scarred and calloused. Wood splinters, soldering iron burns, chisel cuts, Edwin's hands have seen all sorts of injury.

Personality: Edwin is an artist. He loves art and sculpting in particular. He has seen some success in making a profit, but is personally never satisfied with his own work, thinking that he could have done it better. On a bad day this can make him surly, but he usually calms down by about midday.

Background: There really isn't much to say about Edwin. There is no deep dark secret or reason that he does what he does. He is his mother's son, an artist to the core. The main difference is that while his mother painted Edwin sculpted. His mother while not world renowned had carved out her own little place in the art world and in recent years has only painted on commission. Edwin still bright-eyed tries to break into the sculpting scene with his menagerie of mythical creatures made from clay, stone, wood, paper and metal. His father is where Edwin got his good looks, perfect hair, love of Elvis Presley and music in general.

Powers: Arriving in Kite made Edwins hands extremely durable and has allowed him to breathe life into his sculptures. That little wooden sculpture of a horse? He can make it into a 'living' golem. The quality of the sculpture dictates its strength (eg. the little wooden horse would be better if it was painted or if clay had been built around it for flesh. It would be more durable, able to run faster and would act more like a horse). This is also limited to what he himself makes. He couldn't walk up to an ancient statue and make it fight for him.

Personal Motive: Edwin rarely admits his own ambition, but truth be told is that more than anything he wants to make a sculpture so perfect, so lifelike, that people couldn't tell the difference.

Mementos: 1) A wad of clay, roughly fist sized, that Edwin likes to play with, occasionally making little animals with it. 2) A small sculpting scalpel for fine details in clay and wood.

[Lotta Pumpkins]

Name: Dusty

Age: 24

Sex: Male

Appearance:

My Hider

Dusty has the appearance of a very average person. He stands at 5'10, and weighs in at an average 165 pounds. He wears his black hair a bit long, often keeping it in a pony tail, lest it get in the way of his work. He wears a large blue coat over his thin cotton shirt, usually left wide open and flailing in the wind. His pants are unremarkable beige, and he wears black boots up to his knees, leather and water proof. The only thing that makes Dusty stand out in a crowd is his choice of weapons being unique. Over his coat he wears a bandoleer of ammo, a pistol and sword around his hip.

Personality: Dusty is a loner, but that certainly doesn't mean hes lonely. He knows how to blend and can laugh at jokes, and occasionally make a few himself. He would never turn away another person's company, but he rarely seeks it out either. He is by no means a malicious person, he just rarely opens up to people, preferring to put up a wall and to mask his true intentions, feelings, and thoughts before he can trust someone.

Background: Dusty comes from Arizona, a land known for its guns, and rugged terrain. As befits someone who embraced their home, Dusty is an active outdoorsman. He is athletically gifted, a talented marksman, and a skilled tracker. His family feared god and loved the red white and blue. Although Dusty does not follow their line of thinking, he comes from a loving household.

Powers: Dusty's powers are simple, and don't really manifest as truly mind blowing. He has an enhanced ability to follow trails, noticing tiny details that can discern his prey's tracks. He is a supreme marksmen, capable of hitting a target from a great distance away. Should Dusty continue to work at his abilities, he would probably find the ability to hide in shadows to hunt is easy, and to stay silent as well. He is a capable sword fighter should the need arise, but he is by no means an expert, and anyone who truly strives for martial excellence would probably find he is easy prey at close range.

Personal Motive: Dusty seeks wealth, mostly. He is a guide for hire if the need arise, and if the price is truly right, he can serve as an assassin. But thankfully, none have asked him to do that. He mostly tries to get by, and while not actively searching for a way home, the idea isn't one that is toxic to him.

Mementos: A red bandana. Dusty keeps it in his pocket, but has been known to wear it around his neck.