Aku the Samurai

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...!

Sylva

??? — Ruined Inn(?)

---

Sylva stared at the flame for a moment, contemplating. The little elf wasn't wrong. Fighting undead with fire was only effective if it could drop them before they did any damage, and given the fact that the ones outside were wearing armour, he didn't fancy the odds of that happening. Now, if only he knew how to turn it off. He tried shaking it, but it only moved with his hand, barely even losing any size.

He paused to think about it for a moment. There was nothing in his status window that gave him any idea of how to stop using his skill, but it couldn’t be that difficult could it? He was level one, after all.

Well, it wasn’t like he could just walk around with a fire floating in his palm, then he’d just be a walking fire hazard. He had to try something. Sylva sighed, closing his hand and watching as the flame vanished. It was lucky that worked, otherwise he would’ve ended up just burning himself instead of accomplishing anything useful. Note to self; he had to test these runes somewhere that wouldn’t burn down super easily. Just another addition to his growing list of things to do.

Before Sylva could think more about it, the little elf did the same as him, calling out her status before going to tell the other two. With a light shrug, he followed her as she made her way to where the hammer-wilding girl had gone. When she suddenly started sprinting, Sylva only had to increase his speed a little to match her on the way to the kitchen and–

He heard it before he saw it.

A shambling, emaciated corpse with a knife in one hand, and nought but empty sockets where its eyes should have been.

For a moment, Sylva was still. Apprehension crept down his spine as he stared at the undead. It hit him in that moment. This was a real zombie, the living dead in the flesh, at least what little was left of it. It was disgusting, revolting....

.... fascinating.

Opening the cellar seemed like a less-than-great idea, even if there wasn't a zombie causing a ruckus down there. And judging by the scratching noises he'd been hearing for a while now, that wasn't the case. They had no way of knowing if there was anything worthwhile in there either so it was a risk that probably warranted more caution than was taken. Not that it really mattered now. What’s done was done.

And, there goes Sora, stabbing the zombie in the back of the neck.

That begged the question; was stabbing a corpse enough to–

No. No, it wasn’t.

But the blonde with the hammer crushing its head to dust seemed to do the trick though, causing it to crumble like a puppet with its strings cut.... after being hit by a war hammer. All’s well that ends well.

Not that the little elf didn’t seem to think so with the way she went off about Sora’s recklessness.

Technically speaking, all undead were magic in a way and even if they weren’t, they were still dead, so why would stabbing have any effect on it? But it wasn’t as if she had any better idea about the nature of this world than the rest of them. Still, she didn’t seem too bad, just a bit “passionate” in her style of talking.

More importantly, the cellar was now free to explore, and that was exactly what he did, leaving the others behind for Sora to do whatever he was doing with the corpse.

Inside the cellar was, well, exactly what he expected the inside of a cellar to look like. It wasn’t incredibly large or anything but it was packed nearly to the brim with shelves filled with food and barrels of alcohol. Whoever owned the place seemed to have been well prepared for emergencies.

Sylva tried not to think about who the zombie down there might have been.

“I guess it was a good idea to clear the place out,” he muttered to himself, then raised his voice to be heard by the others, “Hey, come take a look down here.”

Even as he said that he took stock of everything in the cellar. The foodstuffs were dried, which meant they had been preserved, but with no way of knowing exactly how long they had been down there, Sylva hesitated to try his luck—not that he had many other options. The alcohol, on the other hand, was likely fine as long as they hadn’t been opened before. It wasn’t a certain thing, but it was better than nothing.

After all, they weren’t going anywhere for a while.

@SilverPaw @RolePlayerRoxas @VitaVitaAR @PKMNB0Y

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...!

Sylva

??? — Ruined Inn(?)

---

Sora was speaking to the little elf as if she were a child—which to be fair, she might well have been. It would be the only thing that made any semblance of sense in this place. He wasn't a–

"Firstly---Do I seriously look like a child to you?!"

@VitaVitaAR

Yes. Sylva wanted to say. Wisely, though, he kept his mouth shut on the matter. It wouldn't be the best idea to aggravate the mid–uh, vertically challenged girl any further. Judging by her strong reaction, this was all very new to her, in more ways than one. He probably would have reacted in a similar fashion if he'd ended up looking like a completely different person after waking up from dying. Now that the thought crossed his mind, he realised he had never actually gotten to take a look at his face yet. Everything felt normal as far as he could tell, except for the obvious abnormalities, but he couldn't be sure of anything yet. He needed to find a mirror or something.

Anyway.... if it wasn't clear before, it was now. Everyone here had been on the plane when it went down. That was one question answered for now, at least. Now, all he had to do was find the answers for the other hundred or so he had in mind. Most people would find such a task daunting, if not impossible, but Sylva only saw it as a challenge. And he never backed down from a challenge, no matter how difficult it seemed. Every puzzle had a solution. All it needed was a little observation and a lot of patience.

While Sylva was lost in his thoughts once again, Sora had walked off to the room he originally came from for some reason. Soon after that, Sylva heard a loud crash that seemed to come from outside. Did he just throw something out of a window? Why would he do that, though?

His unasked questions were quickly answered when he heard the shambling creatures outside moving towards the sound of glass breaking. Ah, so they were attracted to loud sounds. Good to know. That also explained why they were trying to break into the inn so badly in the first place, what with the shouting from before. Moving carefully and quietly would be the way to go here. They had no way of knowing how many of those things were out there, and he didn't have much confidence in the building lasting forever.

The little elf girl was the next to leave, though only for a short moment before coming back with a large, black staff taller than she was. He didn't understand the point of that. Why use a weapon that was bigger than you were? With her size, a weapon of that length would be more of a hindrance than anything else. Then again, her clothing suggested that wasn't quite what it was supposed to be used for.

That reminded him....

"I'll go make sure things are secure then. Guess you're on babysitting duty!" Bianca flashed Sylva a grin and thumbs-up, before heading down to assess things. Sora had already gone ahead to check things out, allowing them to cover more ground quickly. She focused mainly on the doors and windows, making sure they were secure. Or at least weren't about to collapse from the pressure of so many undead creatures vying for entry.

@RolePlayerRoxas

Sylva blinked, ".... Babysitting?"

Well, it wouldn't be the first time he'd been left with a task no one else wanted to do. Still, that term was a bit....

He didn't get to finish his thought before Sora shouted something about Molotovs. Well, so much for staying quiet. The red-haired elf reappeared in the hall some seconds later, asking if any of them knew how to start a fire. That was easy enough as long as he had the materials for it, which given they were in a wooden building, was pretty likely.

"I can, but...." There was still a nagging feeling in the back of Sylva's head, and until he got rid of whatever was bothering him, it wouldn't go away. It was a new feeling, but he'd been putting it off for a while now. It was time to rectify that.

"There's something I need to check first," Sylva's voice was hesitant, but not because he was unsure. It was something a bit more complex than that. Something he should have addressed some time ago.

"Status."

Sylva wasn't 100% certain that it would work, but something about the situation made him want to try it regardless. And yet, there it was, staring him right in the face, blue glow and all. It didn't seem to fit in one bit compared to everything else around him. Everything about it was unnatural, in a way he couldn't quite describe. His eyes swept over every part of the "screen", taking in the descriptions and the–his gaze paused briefly on the race section. Dragonborn? Well, that certainly explained a lot of things. He also took a glance at his stats—they weren't anything too special, considering he was just level one—but none of that stood out to him as much as the final skill section did.

Rune Magic? Was that.... what he thought it was?

Would this even work? All logical indications pointed towards the fact that he was going crazy. And yet, there was a thrill in his body that he'd never felt before. Logic was useful in its own way, but sometimes you just had to take a leap of faith. With that simple thought in mind, Sylva brought his arm up to his chest and closed his eyes, concentrating. He breathed a soft sigh and let his eyes open once more, all his hesitation gone. Letting his newfound instincts guide him, his fingers traced a symbol in mid-air. Unbidden, the name left his lips.

"Ignis."

A modest flame appeared above his hand, flickering slightly, and Sylva smirked.

Groovy.

@VitaVitaAR @RolePlayerRoxas @SilverPaw @PKMNB0Y

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...!

Sylva

??? — Ruined Inn(?)

---

What was that scream?

Sylva's attention was broken from his thoughts when he heard the sound of footsteps. Turning around, he watched as a red-haired elf—that certainly wasn't something he saw every day—approached him. Before he could say anything, a stream of questions started flying from the elf's mouth and Sylva tilted his head in surprise. The sudden questions didn't bother him much. He could relate to that curiosity.

"Not a costume, but I'm not so sure about the flying part. I mean, my wings feel pretty strong, so I think I probably can. Now that you mention it...." Sylva trailed off, getting lost in his thoughts for a moment. Could he fly? Oddly enough, the thought hadn't crossed his mind yet, probably because he was a bit preoccupied with being an actual dragon person. It hadn't all quite sunken in yet. He had to test that out somehow. Preferably somewhere that wasn't inside of a rickety old building. Sylva mentally made a note to try out flying sometime soon, after he got a better grasp on the current situation.

"Don't worry about it. I had about the same reaction when I woke up," Sylva shrugged off Sora's apology with a grin, "Pleasure to meet you, Sora."

When Sora started mentioning how he remembered dying, Sylva frowned. Yeah, that sounded pretty familiar. He remembered boarding the plane, and everything that came after that. But that now begged the question; was everyone on the plane somehow sent here, or were they the only ones? He had no way of knowing the answer, but that didn't stop him from wondering; quite the opposite. He felt that familiar itch to learn more growing; to solve the mystery he found himself embroiled in. It was exciting, but he squashed his eagerness for now. First, he had to find his bearings. Speculating further would be useless until he knew what to do next.

To the rest of Sora's inquiries, he could only shake his head, "I'm afraid I don't know any more than you do, sorry."

Before he could say anything else, a door creaked open and his gaze shifted towards it curiously. Hm. That was where the scream from earlier came from. He wondered who was in there. The door was open now, but there didn't seem to be anyone there. At first, Sylva was a bit confused, but then he heard a feminine voice talking to Sora and it clicked. His eyes dropped a bit lower and he finally saw her. A small blonde elf-girl dressed like some kind of anime wizard who.... didn't seem to be doing too well, if the way she was shaking was anything to go off of.

.... Whose child was that? Actually, scratch that. If there was one thing he knew about elves, it was that you couldn't tell how old they were just by looking at them. He assumed that was the case here too. Probably.

The question she asked, however, was another thing he didn't know the answer to. He remembered the plane going down; he remembered the screeching sound of metal crumpling; he remembered the screams; he remembered–

.... Nothing? That was odd. His memory was normally perfect, and yet all he could remember was blank, like static. Yet another question he had no answer for. This was starting to get ridiculous. The more he thought about the situation, the more questions arose. Questions without obvious answers; puzzles.

And puzzles were meant to be solved.

A loud bang interrupted his musing, and Sylva's eyes widened in surprise. It didn't stop with just one, though, as a second bang sounded. Then a third. Then a fourth.

That was.... concerning.

"Uh.... I'm not the only one hearing that, am I?"

Sylva didn't know which answer would be worse.

---

@VitaVitaAR @RolePlayerRoxas @SilverPaw @PKMNB0Y

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...!

Sylva

??? — Ruined Inn(?)

---

Sylva hadn't known what to expect when he opened his eyes. So, when he found himself staring up at an aged wooden ceiling in a room he shouldn't have been in, he took it in stride. His back, however, did not.

Gingerly, he sat up from the—incredibly—uncomfortable bed and stretched his stiff arms and w–

.... Wait.

With a jolt, Sylva sprang from the bed, twisting his head around to check his back, and the pair of pure white wings jutting from between his shoulders. That wasn't the only thing that caught his attention, though. He hadn't noticed it at first, but it was kind of difficult not to realise that the thing wrapped around his leg was a tail. A white-scaled, finned tail.... his tail. And his wings.

Sylva paused for a moment, and then a broad grin stretched across his face.

"I'm.... a dragon?" It was more a question than anything else. Not that he actually expected an answer from anyone.

He was alive too, but that wasn't as cool to think about.

Another thing he noticed was his clothes. He folded his wings together—there was no word he could use to describe how weird that felt—to give himself a slightly better view of his body. This definitely wasn't what he was wearing before. Did someone redress him or something? That was a curious thing to happen. He didn't mind it all that much, though, since his current attire was pretty cool, at least in his eyes. Certainly better than what he would've been wearing after a plane crash like that. It even had shoulder armour and a cape! A short one, but still.

Anyway.... now that he was mostly done examining himself, he decided to take a look at his surroundings. His room didn't seem to have much to it other than what he'd already seen so the outside it was.

Sylva moved over to the singular window and peered outside to see.... nothing.

Well, not exactly nothing, but it might as well have been. The city outside was empty or close to it, save for what seemed to be a few people(?) clad in metal armour who were limping around the streets for some reason—kind of like zombies now that he thought about it. He also noticed a few bones and rusted metal armaments lying about on the streets. Considering the state they were in, they had probably been there for a while. That was something he'd like to check out, but that would have to come later. First, he wanted to get out of this room and check out the rest of the building.

Also, he wondered if there were other people here.

With that in mind, Sylva flung open the door to the hall, stepping out of his room and immediately catching sight of a blonde girl clad in a white outfit and some armour. That was quick. Immediately, he went to greet her, but then he paused.

Wait. Did she even speak English?

Well, he supposed there was only one way to find out.

"Hey–"

Suddenly, someone screamed. Really loudly.

@RolePlayerRoxas @VitaVitaAR

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...!

Silver

Name:
Sylva or Syl

Age:
21 (presumably)

Gender:
Male

Race:
Dragonborn

Appearance:
A Dragonborn of relatively average height, Sylva stands roughly six feet and three inches tall. He has a muscular, athletic build and short, messy white hair which does almost nothing to cover his horns. His skin is tanned with patches of silver scales scattered intermittently across his body and his slitted, reptilian eyes are a bright aqua blue, mirroring a cloudless sky. Often, he is seen wearing a mischievous easygoing smile on his face.

The clothing he wears consists of a sleeveless white shirt with a brown scarf, obscuring the ring of scales around his neck and a pair of brown leather pants. His shoulders are covered by dark grey metal pauldrons and he wears russet-coloured furred-fingerless gloves. Topping it all off is a very short red cape held up by a short chain that hangs across his back.

He possesses a pair of somewhat short wings and a long-finned tail, matching the colour of his hair.

Personality:
Sylva has always been a free spirit since the moment he opened his eyes. Reckless, energetic, sharp-witted and endlessly curious; he was the type to try just about anything at least once. His death and subsequent reincarnation did nothing to damper his inquisitive nature. Thrill-seeking and kind-hearted in equal measure, with a penchant for random bouts of melancholy, Sylva was both unreserved and hard to read at a glance. However, underneath his vivacious demeanour is a highly observant and driven individual with a rather morbid sense of humour.

History:
Sylva was born shouldering the heavy weight of expectations. His parents had high hopes for his future and little tolerance for any failures. And yet, beneath the almost overwhelming weight of their expectations, his natural fascination with the world around him still grew. Despite his reservations, he was never really one to act out just to spite others. He met their expectations with vigour, which only served to fuel his curiosity all the more.

As he grew older, so too did his interests. His inquisitive nature made him a favourite amongst his tutors, who were all too happy to indulge his curiosity. Eventually, though, even they couldn’t keep up with him and he was once again left to his own devices. In spite of his outgoing demeanour, he never truly had anyone he could call a friend; a fact that wasn’t lost on him. Between his overbearing parents and his lack of social skills, it was no surprise, albeit disappointing nonetheless.

After he hit eighteen, he moved out of his parents’ house. But his adventurous spirit wasn’t satisfied with that alone, so he decided to leave his home city behind to study natural sciences abroad. As usual, he did well at what he put his mind to, even more so when it was something he actually enjoyed. To that end, he joined a travel club with a focus on ancient historical sites.

Things were looking up.... and then they were looking down.

Level: 1

Stats:

• STR: 1
• DEX: 1
• MAG: 2
• DEF: 3
• RES: 2
• AGI: 2
• LCK: 1

Skills:

• Skill Name: [Rune Magic]
• Skill Description: Allows the use of runic magic in its basic form. Useful and versatile but not particularly powerful as of yet. Sylva is working to change that.

Other: Of the many things Sylva's learnt in his life, martial arts is one of his favourites. He's trained in both Muay Thai and kickboxing, with some minor instruction in Kendo, though not to the same extent.

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...!

Silver

Name:
Sylva or Syl

Age:
21 (presumably)

Gender:
Male

Race:
Dragonborn

Appearance:
A Dragonborn of relatively average height, Sylva stands roughly six feet and two inches tall. He has a muscular, athletic build and short, messy white hair which does almost nothing to cover his horns. His skin is tanned with patches of silver scales scattered intermittently across his body and his slitted, reptilian eyes are a bright aqua blue, mirroring a cloudless sky. Often, he is seen wearing a mischievous easygoing smile on his face.

The clothing he wears consists of a sleeveless white shirt with a brown scarf, obscuring the ring of scales around his neck and a pair of brown leather pants. His shoulders are covered by dark grey metal pauldrons and he wears russet-coloured furred-fingerless gloves. Topping it all off is a very short red cape held up by a short chain that hangs across his back.

He possesses a pair of somewhat short wings and a long-finned tail, both matching the colour of his hair.

Personality:
Sylva has always been a free spirit since the moment he opened his eyes. Reckless, energetic, sharp-witted and endlessly curious; he was the type to try just about anything at least once. His death and subsequent reincarnation did nothing to damper his inquisitive nature. Thrill-seeking and kind-hearted in equal measure, with a penchant for random bouts of melancholy, Sylva was both unreserved and hard to read at a glance. However, underneath his vivacious demeanour is a highly observant and driven individual.

History:
Sylva was born shouldering the heavy weight of expectations. His parents had high hopes for his future and little tolerance for any failures. And yet, beneath the almost overwhelming weight of their expectations, his natural fascination with the world around him still grew. Despite his reservations, he was never really one to act out just to spite others. He met their expectations with vigour, which only served to fuel his curiosity all the more.

As he grew older, so too did his interests. His inquisitive nature made him a favourite amongst his tutors, who were all too happy to indulge his curiosity. Eventually, though, even they couldn’t keep up with him and he was once again left to his own devices. In spite of his outgoing demeanour, he never truly had anyone he could call a friend; a fact that wasn’t lost on him. Between his overbearing parents and his lack of social skills, it was no surprise, albeit disappointing nonetheless.

After he hit eighteen, he moved out of his parents’ house. But his adventurous spirit wasn’t satisfied with that alone, so he decided to leave his home city behind to study natural sciences abroad. As usual, he did well at what he put his mind to, even more so when it was something he actually enjoyed. To that end, he joined a travel club with a focus on ancient historical sites.

Things were looking up.... and then they were looking down.

Level: 1

Stats:

• STR: 1
• DEX: 1
• MAG: 2
• DEF: 3
• RES: 2
• AGI: 2
• LCK: 1

Skills:

• Skill Name: [Rune Magic]
• Skill Description: Allows the use of runic magic in its basic form. Useful and versatile but not particularly powerful as of yet. Sylva is working to change that.

Other: Anything else of note? Put it here.

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...! (Interest Check)

Dropping interest.

Commencement: A Pacific Royal Collegiate & University RP

S A M A E L
S A M A E L

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_{^{"I believe that's checkmate."}}

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C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Samael "Sam" Isla _________________________________________________________ August 21st, 2007 | 21 | Scottish/Caucasian _________________________________________________________ Single | Male | Pansexual _________________________________________________________ Sacramento | California | United States of America _________________________________________________________ House Lynx | Team 21 - Blackjack C H A R A C T E R S T A T S C H A R A C T E R S T A T S _________________________________________________________ ◼ B U I L D || Athletic, Lean ◼ H A I R C O L O U R || Black ◼ E Y E C O L O U R || Sky Blue ◼ H E I G H T || 179 cm ◼ W E I G H T || 73 kg ◼ S C A R S || Many ◼ T A T T O O S || None ◼ P I E R C I N G S || None ◼ O T H E R || Pronounced canines

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T ________________________________________________________________________________________ To say that Samael had a troubled youth was something of an understatement. With a drug addict for a mother and a father who couldn't care less whether he lived or died, it was a wonder he grew up as a (mostly) functional adult. With no one to rely on for most of his life, Samael was forced to provide for himself. As young as he was, there was little in the way of legitimate work he could access, but with a little bit of luck, patience and eye for detail, he managed to make something of a living for himself. That was how he learnt a simple truth; people were easy to read, and if he could do that well enough, he could use them for whatever he wanted. He lived and breathed walking a tightrope, where the slightest mistake would cost him everything. Failure was never an option. It was a routine. Grueling, but familiar. Exhilarating. When his powers manifested, everything was downhill from there. His parents were never particularly caring at the best of times, but finding out that their son was a Hyperhuman was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Samael was all too happy to cut ties with them after their extreme, hostile reactions. He never looked back after that, except to leave them a parting gift as a final "thanks for nothing". Soon after that, he met Adrian, his current guardian, in the loosest sense of the word. He was decent, unlike Samael's parents. He never spoke about his job and Samael never asked, except to offer help a few times. He only ever knew the bare minimum, but that was enough to let him figure out some things on his own. When he came of age, Adrian proposed the idea of sending him to PCRU, a school dedicated to helping Hyperhumans control their abilities. At first, he was indifferent, but he ultimately agreed, if only to learn to better control his powers. D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E & A E S T H E T I C D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E & A E S T H E T I C ________________________________________________________________________________________ Samael is a difficult person to find in a crowd and often overlooked when he wants to be. He has black, messy hair that he usually keeps short and out of the way when he bothers to do so. Despite his otherwise intentionally unremarkable appearance, his eyes are a vibrant blue, giving away the bare minimum while keeping his true thoughts hidden. Samael possesses an athletic build cultivated from years of acrobatics and running from trouble. His body sports a multitude of scars, both from his rigorous training sessions and from several unfortunate encounters. In terms of style preference, Samael doesn't really have any. He usually dresses in whatever he has that happens to fit the current occasion. He mostly adheres to the school dress code, except for the blazer, which he leaves unbuttoned and sometimes just drapes over his shoulders. Outside of that, however, he tends to favour comfortable clothing that allows him to move freely. He wears few accessories, except for a sapphire necklace gifted to him some years ago. M A N N E R I S M S & P E R S O N A L I T Y M A N N E R I S M S & P E R S O N A L I T Y ________________________________________________________________________________________ A product of a less-than-stellar childhood, Samael is distrustful towards people, though not in an easily discernable way. Most people who have met him would describe him as 'nice but quiet'. On the surface, he appears to be a stolid, soft-spoken individual with a reserved countenance, though he can easily insert himself into social situations without seeming too out of place. While not an entirely inaccurate description, Samael only ever shows people what they are already looking for instead of what's actually on his mind. He has a morbid sense of humour and enjoys playing mind games with people he feels deserve it. Buried beneath the façade lies a troubled mind with little in the way of true expression. Despite his shifting attitude towards the people around him, he cares more than he usually shows outwardly, in his own way. So far, nothing has happened to peer quite that deep.

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A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S & W E A K N E S S E S A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S & W E A K N E S S E S ________________________________________________________________________________________ H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y || K I N E T I C E N E R G Y M A N I P U L A T I O N __PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION || Exoteric __SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION || Fundamental __POWER SCALE || TBD __THREAT CLASSIFICATION || TBD Samael possesses the ability to absorb and manipulate kinetic energy, otherwise known as the energy possessed by any moving object, which can manifest in many forms. His ability is charged by either generating kinetic energy through any movement he makes or siphoning it from objects or persons around him. Using the stored kinetic energy, he can enhance himself in several ways, such as supercharging his physical and mental processes or accelerating his healing capabilities. His power doesn't need to be active in order to store energy, only to use it. Despite seeming skilful in using his powers, he still has to learn much to become truly proficient. Samael can also transfer kinetic energy from one object to another, turning an object's potential energy into kinetic energy and making it explosive or siphoning kinetic energy from objects/persons around him to slow them down considerably and potentially freeze them. As a result, he is functionally immune to extreme temperatures and impact damage. L I M I T A T I O N S || C A P A C I T Y Every movement he makes or hits he takes charges up his internal battery. However, as with all things, its capacity is finite, and as such, Samael can only hold up to a certain amount of kinetic energy before he is forced to bleed off some of it to prevent overload; a forceful, involuntary discharge that temporarily shuts down his powers. Further complicating the matter is his inability to tell when he's approaching his limit, which also makes it difficult to increase it. W E A K N E S S E S || I M M O B I L I S A T I O N As one would expect of a power intrinsically tied to movement, the lack of such is an obvious weakness. Since Samael's ability relies entirely on energy generated by his movements to function, if he is somehow immobilised and unable to act, his powers are essentially rendered useless for as long as it lasts. P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) ________________________________________________________________________________________ "Wouldn't you like to know."

S K I L L S & T A L E N T S S K I L L S & T A L E N T S _________________________________________________________ S K I L L S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Sleight of hand || Samael is adept at stealing objects right from under people's noses without being noticed. He's also good at concealing things that are on his person with ease. ◼ Observation || Samael is always observing everything and everyone around him to better understand and use them to his advantage. He is good at reading the room and notices a lot of things that most people would usually miss. Conveniently, his skill in this field also helps him misdirect others trying to do the same to him. ◼ First-aid || Samael never had anyone to help him when he was hurt, so he learnt how to do it himself. It comes in handy more than he would like. ◼ Combat || A relatively recent addition to his repertoire, Samael was trained by Adrian in the art of CQC. Mostly by getting his ass beat until the man was satisfied. At the very least, it made him better at taking hits. T A L E N T S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Mastermind || Samael is highly intelligent, and he knows well how to use it to his advantage, always thinking several steps ahead and masterfully weaving others into his plans. He adapts easily to surprising situations and thinks quickly on his feet if a plan doesn't go as expected. ◼ Athleticism || Samael is naturally exceptionally agile and acrobatic. He is a master of moving his body the way he wants, which allows him to move quickly and near-silently to bypass obstacles, including people. ◼ Memory || Samael has an exceptionally high capacity for knowledge and finds it nearly impossible to forget anything once he's learnt it. C H A R A C T E R A R S E N A L C H A R A C T E R A R S E N A L _________________________________________________________ A T T I R E ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Uniform || Samael conforms almost entirely to the standard uniform regulations. The sole exception to this is his blazer, which he rarely ever seems to bother wearing properly. I T E M ( S ) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Sapphire necklace || A plain necklace adorned at the end with a shimmering blue gem. Samael's first and only gift. It doubles as a beacon in case of emergencies. T O O L ( S ) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Pocket knife || A good quality, reliable knife. Perfect for various tasks. A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S _________________________________________________________ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ N/A - P O S T C A T A L O G P O S T C A T A L O G _________________________________________________________ [+] - P O S T C A T A L O G ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ -

P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S
P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S

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_{E N T E R I N G I N T O Y O U R F I N A L Y E A R, W H A T A D V I C E D O Y O U H A V E T O A N E W S T U D E N T?}

"Pass."

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

"Aspirations? I can't say I've given that much thought lately. Well.... training is the obvious answer, but I guess that's a bit unimaginative, isn't it? There isn't much else I can say though. I've never been one for lofty ambitions. If anything changes, I'll let you know." There was a momentary pause, "Or not."

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

"Change isn't always a good thing, but I guess if I had to choose one thing I'd want to change, it'd be myself, for reasons I'd rather not say. Other than that, there isn't really anything that comes to mind. I'd like to think that's a good thing."

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

Parahumans: Earth Drega

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Bridgewater Bank
June 19, 2021

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It only took around ten minutes for them to be loaded up and driven to the city bank. They were briefed in great detail on the way there and given a few suggestions on how to run the operation, especially since civilians were being used as hostages. Richter listened without really paying much attention. Not outwardly, at least. He wasn't stupid enough to completely ignore their advice, just kind of. If nothing else though, they were right about one thing; Kintsugi's constructs wouldn't last more than a touch against him, nor would the Cape himself. If only he was allowed to.

Well, anyway, he was still glad their first mission wasn't something boring.

The fact that Blackburn carried around firearms didn't bother him one bit. Guns were only useful if you could hit your target, and it wasn't like he was a stranger to the dangers of a firefight, though this particular experience was new. Usually, he wasn't on this side of it. His power was pretty helpful against weapons too, if all else failed. The advice to treat the gang as if they were going for the kill gave him the makings of an idea. He wondered if he could use that as an excuse....

Hm. That was an idea that required a bit more thought.

Before Richter could decide on a course of action, he noticed something odd. The clone girl's.... clones looked like they were glitching for some unexplained reason. One second they were there and the next, they were gone. Over and over. She didn't seem to be taking the situation very well now they were here. Considering she'd been practically buzzing with excitement back at the HQ, it probably wasn't the robbery that bothered her. In that case, it was most likely the hostages that did it. He wasn't sure why, but she was obviously recalling some pretty bad memories. They had to be bad to evaporate her enthusiasm like that. It was the fastest drop in mood he'd ever seen.

Speculating would only get him so far. At this point, he'd have more success just–

Oh. She was gone.

And so was the pink menace. Rushing ahead without backup probably wasn't the best idea, but he wasn't going to be the one to tell her that. Someone who cared more would do that.

With a shrug, Richter climbed out of the vehicle and briefly surveyed the area. The bank's facade was bustling with activity, and he meant that in the loosest sense of the world. Everywhere he looked was filled with police cars and policemen idling around doing fuck all, and pedestrians doing even less. What a useless bunch they were. His eyes wandered up the building; twenty-five enormous stories of glass and concrete. It was one of the biggest buildings he'd ever seen, but he did have to wonder why exactly a bank had 25 floors. Like, what did they even use them all for? It was an utterly irrelevant question but it nagged at him all the same.

Richter's thoughts were interrupted by someone saying something about the hostages.

Oh, right. Hostages.

The grump shared the information his power had provided. It had a lot of assumptions, but it wasn't like he had anything to add at the moment. The hostages being held on a higher floor, if true, was potentially problematic. Getting into the building and through most obstacles was easy enough, but going up? That was a bit harder. The rat-bird offered to carry some of them with him, but he didn't even think about accepting. Not because he couldn't get in from up there, but because he didn't trust it to carry him anywhere.

His eyes trailed up to the highest point of the bank.... Yeah, there was no chance he was getting up there any other way. He wasn't that good. Not yet.

With a sigh, Richter pressed his palm to the front of the bank and focused his senses on his surroundings. The great thing about vibrations was that they were everywhere. Literally. He couldn't focus on everything on a floor at once, but searching for the movements of a human being, even if subdued, wasn't an issue. Any more than that and everything would just start becoming incomprehensible. He hadn't had the chance to practise much yet.

He stepped back from the wall and looked up once again. Well, that confirmed the hostages weren't down there at least. They still had to actually find them though. With that thought in mind, he finally entered the bank, or at least what was left of it. Shattercrash sure did a number on the place. He nonchalantly stepped on shards of broken glass, leaving behind tiny piles of dust in his wake.

Richter glanced over to Decree, who all of a sudden wasn't moving anymore. It was ironic that she'd stopped dead in her tracks almost immediately after telling the clone girl to be careful.

Usually, he wouldn't care what she did but this situation wasn't exactly what he'd call "regular". Getting people killed because you weren't prepared was a weak excuse. All she needed was a light touch to jolt her into action, and since he was the closest to her right now, he decided to take it upon himself to do so. The slightest miscalculation on his part would kill her, but nobody needed to know that.

With more care than anyone could know, Richter flicked Decree on the forehead.

"Pull yourself together, durak."

Avatar: The White Jade Gambit

Tophn't

Wujin, the Tremor

_{"Mad? Of course, I'm mad. All the best people are a little bit crazy."}

_NAME

Wujin, or just Jin

_AGE

20

_BIRTHPLACE

Earth Kingdom

_ELEMENT

Earth

_{APPEARANCE DETAILS}

Wujin is a young woman of average height and solid build. As an outsider, her complexion is somewhat lighter compared to most other citizens of Omashu. She possesses the lean, athletic musculature of a lifelong martial artist moulded by years of effort; something she takes great pride in. Her chin-length black hair is often kept neat and parted at the front with short fringes on either side partially covering her eyes. She is almost always seen wearing a blindfold, beneath which lies a pair of dull silver eyes that render her "as blind as a badgermole", though you couldn't tell that by watching her move. She usually dresses in a short top and baggy pants with an even split of white and green, along with a pearl necklace.

_PERSONALITY

There are a great many words that could be used to describe Wujin. Reckless, energetic, playful, flexible, (too) curious. But most people who had the distinguished pleasure of making her direct acquaintance would call her insan–eccentric. She rarely appears to take anything seriously and is often flighty and carefree when she should be focused and serious. Thrill-seeking and kind-hearted with a penchant for random bouts of philosophy, Wujin is more tolerated than liked wherever she goes, though you couldn't pay her to care. However, underneath her light-hearted demeanour lies a highly observant and driven individual with wisdom seemingly beyond her years, in the very, very rare moments she lets it shine. At her core, she values freedom above all things.

While she doesn't always show it, the current war has made her restless in a way she doesn't quite understand. And not in a good way.

_BIOGRAPHY

No one knows for sure where Wujin was born, only that she was found abandoned as a child a little ways outside the walls of Omashu.

At a young age, she displayed great interest in learning martial arts, and she more than had the talent for it. Unfortunately for her, there was a rather significant roadblock in her path. For as much as Wujin was a smart and energetic child, for as much as she could be diligent and driven, she was also severely limited by one simple feature; she was blind. In spite of that, she wasn't one to let things like physical limitations stop her. She decided that if she couldn't see with her eyes, she would use something else to do it for them.

However, optimism could only get her so far. Despite her best efforts, for a long time, her progress was less than stellar. Everything changed when one day while following a group of merchants, she wandered away from the group and fell into a sinkhole where she found herself lost within a system of caves then undiscovered by humans. While wandering the caverns, she came across a small family of badgermoles that aided her in navigating the labyrinthine passageways.

It was then inspiration struck, and she immediately threw herself into training once again. Observing and learning from them, she taught herself to mimic their actions down to the slightest movement to compensate for her blindness. Day after day, she travelled with them, doing as they did until it was completely engraved within her muscle memory.

It worked. And it was as if a thousand tortured souls screamed out in anguish, and were silenced.

Initially, it was thought that she would mellow out as she grew older. Yet, after she returned from her underground adventure with her newfound knowledge and ability, her antics only became all the more elaborate. Not a day went by where someone wasn't cursing her name for one thing or another, usually about "cabbages". Over time, her adventurous spirit grew so she became bored with life within Omashu, and then it happened. King Wei's sudden declaration of war on the three nations was surprising and distressing. It was an act of tyranny. And she couldn't stand idly by and let it happen.

Thus, when she heard word of the light in the sky heralding the awakening of the Avatar, she didn't hesitate to hop onto the bandwagon.

_TRIVIA

• Wujin wears a blindfold because she thinks it makes her seem more "mysterious". No one has the heart (or stones) to tell her otherwise.
• As a personal rule, Wujin chooses never to rely solely on bending in a fight and has learnt a selection of martial arts.
• Wujin is hypersensitive to pain, leading her to learn how best to avoid getting hit in the first place.
• Wujin can't handle spicy food very well. She doesn't let that stop her.