Blizz

Avengers Academy: X of Swords ⚔️

Leah Jordan

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Location: The Kingston-Gray House
Gear:
Skills:

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When everyone went upstairs it looked like it was literally just her at first. Then two of the adults stayed too. Leah didn’t know which ones were whose dad. There were four of them, she often found it hard to imagine she had two girlfriends back when that was still a thing. How the hell did Dorian or Danni keep up with-

Oh. Oh no. One of them was interacting with her.

”What? Oh, yeah, su-_{Whatthehellisthat.”} Ben’s weird thing startled her. Some kind of mutant thing, or maybe he was a wizard? She didn’t know.

Fuck, now she had to manage a conversation. How did he know her name? One of his kids probably told them, but what? What did they tell him? She’s a real frigid bitch old man don’t even try- Did he read her mind like Sabine? Was he about to launch into some talk about something? Was that actually her dad in disguise? Was he about to say something about her hair? Ask about why she looked like a damn monster? Or about April? Sabine? What if he bumped into her and got his arm sawn off by her hair and couldn’t magically grow it? What if-

Leah mentally blanked for a moment and then realized she was still standing there when he asked about something. She awkwardly shuffled towards where he was walking and thought for a moment.

”Sabine’s- She likes dark chocolate. Peanut butter too, either one. Both if she’s feeling special. Andy’s a caffeine addict, she’d probably just spoke whatever she gets…” Her hands had stuck themselves into her pockets absentmindedly. ”April… Blue bubblegum, I don’t even know how she can stomach it but she swears it’s actually different from the pink kind that she really doesn’t like at all. And she likes these gummy shark things, whatever they are.”

She didn’t know of Vicky was coming, or if Vicky even actually ate things that weren’t just heat or lightning… Or if she would be mad if Leah mentioned that. So she didn’t, and just stood there awkwardly. She wasn’t about to go digging through cabinets to look for things unless he specifically said so.

Maybe she shouldn’t gone upstairs, actually.

The Season of the Enlightened

Silas Bracken

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_{Silas Bracken
Silas Bracken}

^{“My patience has limits.”}

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 I N F O C H A R A C T E R I N F O _________________________________________________________ | Silas Bracken | 24 | _________________________________________________________ | Cisgender Male (He/Him) | 6'1"/210lbs | _________________________________________________________ | Hetrosexual | Middle Class | C H A R A C T E R N O T E S C H A R A C T E R N O T E S _________________________________________________________ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Character Info Birthday: December 9th, 1787 Country of Origin: England Languages Spoken: English Affiliation: St. Eustice’s School Motivation: Silas’s main goal is to improve the position of the Enlightened in his own ways. Habits: Quietly pondering things, tapping his foot against the ground. Hobbies: Reading, fist-fighting, and travel. ► Fears -Death -Great Heights -Failure ► Skills -Negotiating -Planning -Brawling -Research ► Shortcomings -Subtlety -Guns -Social Standing -Swimming ► Likes -Winter -Meeting people -Peace -Black tea -Rainy weather ► Dislikes -Warm days -The upper class -Violence -Drinking -Ignorance - R U M O R S R U M O R S _________________________________________________________ [+] - S E C R E T S & L I E S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Rumors Some believe Silas got his station because he was once "normal" and able to fit into society as such, but ingested a maddening amount of the Empath drug and survived being twisted beyond recognition. The rumors suggest that his position at St Eustace's School is one of pity, in which he stays because no one wants to see one of the few "good monsters" fall to obscurity and die in a gutter somewhere. Many also whisper that a monstrous man such as him could only have such standing in society because of ties to the Dark Embers. After all, why else would anyone let him around children? ► Secrets When Silas was young and little more than a disfigured street urchin between one form and the next, he happened upon a robbery in a warehouse near where he slept. Three Dark Embers agent broke in to steal food and supplies, and then ran past him. A soldier stopped him and asked where the culprits had went, Silas lied and said they were running to a ship. They were never caught. -

E N L I G H T E N E D A B I L I T I E S E N L I G H T E N E D A B I L I T I E S ________________________________________________________________________________________ Manbeast: Silas is far removed from the physiology of the mundane. He resembles the dragons of old folktale, with skin made of jagged scales and tough hide far sturdier than that of the common man. This has made him not only a pariah among society, but brick on legs. Swords that try to bite through the sharp scales are blunted and cracked, bullets from the finest pistols of the day can barely get past Silas' skin. And most notable of all, he is strong. Silas has enough strength to lift a carriage over his head, pack an anvil around as if it's a paperweight, and more. These things make him someone no one wants to get into a scuffle with, but they also make him slow. Those without their own Enlightened abilities need only duck through alleys and around buildings for a fair chance at outrunning Silas. He sticks out like a sore thumb for multiple reasons, making him an easy target for more subtle Enlightened. B A C K S T O R Y B A C K S T O R Y ________________________________________________________________________________________ One only has to look at Silas to guess what he's faced. As a boy, he was set to become a blacksmith's apprentice in a town in England. By the time he turned 13, he began to show signs of a curious condition, in which his skin appeared bruised and discolored. His mother had originally wrote it off as soot or something accidental, but then it began to spread. When swinging a hammer to make nails, Silas would watch his skin flake off and leave something glossy underneath it. The blacksmith he worked under told him he needed to see a doctor, but they didn't know anything about it either. He never felt sick, even if his skin simply itched and ached somewhat on occasion. A month passed, and he started to grow protrusions out of his skin. They were sharp as daggers and tough as rock, and Silas' mother watched him slice firewood in half with is forearm alone. At that point, there was no more question that Silas was an Enlightened with a rather unfortunate ability. The changes kept coming and coming, and he couldn't stop them. Eventually, the skin on his arms became scales, and he began to grow spines out of his head. The people of his town weren't the most worldly, and it wasn't long until they went from thinking the boy had a gift to thinking he had a curse. They chased him out with fire and holy verses, and left him to wander the English countryside and the fringes of the urban world until the day he found his way to St. Eustace's School for the Enlightened. They took him in, and life was better for it. In time, his body became more dragon than man, and Silas had all but forgone the notion of fitting in. When his time as a student there was done, he elected to stay and assist in the school's wellbeing. Today, Silas is often one of those that the school sends out when they need someone to speak with prospective students from a distance. E X T R A S E X T R A S ________________________________________________________________________________________ Black Roses for the Wicked One Favorite show is Owl House, I guess

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Morris Hennigar

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_{Morris Hennigar
Morris Hennigar}

^{“May God forgive me.”}

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 I N F O C H A R A C T E R I N F O _________________________________________________________ | Morris Hennigar | 20 | _________________________________________________________ | Cisgender Male | 5’7”/158lbs | _________________________________________________________ | ??? | Working class | C H A R A C T E R N O T E S C H A R A C T E R N O T E S _________________________________________________________ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Character Info Birthday: January 14th, 1791 Country of Origin: England Languages Spoken: English, French Affiliation: Haven Motivation: Sorting his life out Habits: Staying awake at odd hours, and balancing his weight on one foot. Hobbies: -Bone carving -Woodworking -Card games ► Fears -Drowning -Sea monsters -Wildfires ► Skills -Seafaring -Enlightened power -Survival -Climbing ► Shortcomings -Influence -Shooting -History -Cooking ► Likes -The ocean -Knives -Dogs -Stormy weather ► Dislikes -Rich people -The Royal Navy -Guns -Salt - R U M O R S R U M O R S _________________________________________________________ [+] - S E C R E T S & L I E S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Rumors When the Saint Judith went down, and Morris alone returned from sea in decent condition, many suspected that he had arranged for the ship to sink. Perhaps he was a spy for a foreign nation tasked with sabotage, or had simply gone insane. The fact that he was carrying a ghastly staff of bone with him also made many believe that the Crown had sent him aboard the ship as a kind of inquisitor for her crew, and that the fate of they met was a punishment for mutiny. ► Secrets The staff of bone that Morris used as an oar to paddle back to dry land was made from a human corpse. It was grafted into one piece from the ribs and femurs of Elijah Tavish, captain of the Saint Judith. Late at night, in the small hours of the morning before the sun is visible, Morris hears his voice whispering from it. They aren’t kind words. -

E N L I G H T E N E D A B I L I T I E S E N L I G H T E N E D A B I L I T I E S ________________________________________________________________________________________ The Sailor’s Art: Using the bones of something that has died, Morris can build up strange effects as if he were performing works of magic. He can cause bones to levitate, graft them together, make them weigh dozens of pounds, and much more. He often carries a long length of grafted bone with him, the size of a spear, that he had with him when he washed back up on England’s shores once again after the accident. Morris has yet to tell anyone what it actually does. In order to actually create his strange trinkets, Morris needs a supply of bones. The source of them doesn’t always matter, but it can influence the outcome to a point. The more complicated the effect he seeks, the more bone he will need. These things also require time, and do not simply happen when he lays his hands on a rib or an animal skull. Rather, there’s a process he is hesitant to divulge, which could take minutes or days depending on his goal. Blackest Ivory: With enough of these bones, Morris can create what he refers to as Unlife. Ugly statues of bone that his Enlightenment animates into servants, which can carry out tasks befitting their size and complexity. They’re little more than easily trained workhorses, able to learn what is and isn’t the right thing to do when given an order with time. The Unlivng are also significantly more costly to make, requiring entire legs and feet, or arms and thumbs to suit what Morris needs. B A C K S T O R Y B A C K S T O R Y ________________________________________________________________________________________ Morris was 16 when he first put out to sea. He came from a poor home with a single mother who worked as a merchant’s assistant, in an economic situation where breakfast was usually half a loaf of brown bread and dinner almost always was thin soup. He signed onto a merchant ship as a deckhand, hoping to earn a fair pay for his mother back home. It was cold and stormy out there, the food was somehow worse than home, and there was always the threat of pirates down south. Morris’ job was a simple one: Move this barrel, tie that knot, and fetch something. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid. The quartermaster gave him menial tasks like tarring the deck and bringing up supplies to fix something, and expected very little out of him. They were a month away from port when Morris discovered his Enlightenment. An older sailor showed him the art of scrimshaw, carving bones from whales into tools or art pieces. People would make things out of them and trade them. In Morris’ case, he learned how to cut some whalebone chunks into dice, which he used to win a few coins one night. And then he won a few more, and a few more still. They thought he had cheated, but every time he wanted a certain number, the dice just landed on it. A few more days, and another crew member helped him figure it out when Morris made a tiny whale figure out of fish bones. It came to life and started floating, and the entire ship quickly heard about him being Enlightened. Out at sea, it didn’t change much about his standing. If anything, it made him more useful, and there wasn’t much room on a ship for discrimination. Months later, he went home and found his mother had passed from sickness. She couldn’t afford a doctor, and that left Morris alone with the house. He took his time to grieve, and with no one waiting at home, went right back to sea. Twice, he served as an assistant quartermaster aboard the whaling ship Duke of the West, having discovered he could create an abomination from whalebones that could fetch supplies while he tended to numbers. Morris earned enough pay and respect among the crew that he was approached by the Royal Navy after his most recent work. The captain of a ship called the Saint Judith was heading out to settle disputes with pirates in the equator and ensure that England’s interests were asserted. He had asked for Morris specifically, and the pay was far better than anything he’d gotten before. So he graciously accepted the offer. And it all went wrong. Just weeks after the Saint Judith left port, Morris was found limping back to England on a raft made from driftwood, blood-soaked rope, and a prayer. His clothes were tattered, his hair had been singed, and he had a truly dejected look on his face. All he had to say was that the Saint Judith had gone down, and none of her crew had survived. Morris would not say what happened, even under threat of imprisonment. To this day, it remains a mystery. Two months passed, and he seemed to have never truly recovered. He never strayed far from that ugly stick made of bones, he’s stayed on dry land, and most notably, Morris has been avoiding anyone with governmental authority. The sudden turn of his life eventually took him to the doorstep of one Lady Rosemarie, where he humbly asked not for a place to stay, but a place to work. Morris tends to the needs of her Haven, doing everything from bringing food to the girls when they’re sick to fixing a broken window after some Enlightened's abilities got out of hand. Sometimes, he even scares off the occasional wealthy man who insists his daughter will come home. E X T R A S E X T R A S ________________________________________________________________________________________ Bones in the Ocean

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Avengers Academy: X of Swords ⚔️

Leah Jordan

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Location: The Kingston-Gray House
Gear:
Skills:

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Leah didn't like thinking about dead people. She knew that, objectively speaking, there was a lot worse people could do than just talk to the dead and ask them questions. They could be raised up as a zombie, enslaved or just used to haunt someone. But if they could talk to Nemo, who Leah still had a hard time believing as actually gone, then they could theoretically find her mom somewhere in whatever afterlife she went to. And she didn't want to even spare a thought for something like that. So when they got to the house- Seriously, how many dads did Dorian fucking have?- She planned to make that clear enough. She'd be staying out of the communion from beyond the grave, or whatever they called it.

Besides, she had some... awkward messages to send out.

@Vision

Earthbender: we were pranked. someone read my mind or did something to make me see something that wasnt there. no one ever actually showed up, the thing we talked about apparently never even happened. dr strange teleported us to him and told us that it was magic. he gave us something to find who.

Earthbender: sorry.

Vision was probably having the robotic equivalent of a stroke right now, reading that. Leah wondered if he'd brick her phone for making such a fuss over something that wasn't even real.

Then she sent another message.

@Sabine, @April

Earthbender: ignore everything i sent earlier. we were fucked with, it was an illusion or something. sorry april.

Did April even check the chat they had anymore? Did she delete it from her contacts, and leave Leah screaming into the void earlier? She wasn't sure, but Leah had a bad feeling she had scared the shit out of her friend over smoke and mirrors, when she was already having a pretty bad day. Yikes.

Leah stared down at her phone, thinking. There was only one other person who really had to even know about the whole thing, and Leah didn't know if she did. If she didn't say something, it might be worse after. Leah didn't even care that much, but it'd save her a headache.

@She Hulk

Earthbender: if vision sent you a scary message earlier, ignore it. none of that was even real, but i thought it was. magic or something.

Then she quickly put her phone away and made a mental note not to look at it for at least another hour. Waking through the door, she stayed next to Sabine, who wasted no time being chatty. She didn't have much to say about them inviting people into their home. Leah quietly wondered what they'd say about her. If they'd even acknowledge her, which she wouldn't say no to them objecting to.

If they were anything like their kids, they'd exhaust her people battery quickly.

Avengers Academy: X of Swords ⚔️

As Leah and Sabine moved to return to the waiting room, their feet would lose purchase as the ground beneath them suddenly vanished. For Sabine, it would be like simply missing a step - the sudden lurch forward, followed up by a fall, just without a landing. But for Leah, a being of earth and rock, the loss of connection to the planet, to anything beyond the mercy of gravity might feel all the more sinister.

And then without warning, just as the fall had begun, it ended - as shimmering orange ropes wrapped around the girls, grabbing them by the torso, and they were yanked sideways, leaving the strange nothingness and crashing through a crystalline illusion. The pair would find themselves on the floor of an arcane, musty study - a sanctum for the mystic arts, one with no doors, and a gigantic circular window. Its master stood before them, his hair more gray than any other color in his age, as his eyebrow twitched with curiosity.

“Welcome to office hours. I understand you have need of my services,” Doctor Strange greeted.

If it weren’t for the fact that they had just been suspended in the air, and safely deposited back on the ground, Leah might have had several expletives and unpleasant words ready to go.

Her head swerved around this way and that, taking in everything and subconsciously making sure they hadn’t just been teleported into a torture chamber or, god forbid, fucking Arizona. But no, they were in front of the greatest wizard on the planet.

”…What?” Holy shit, falling like that felt awful.

Sabine felt in freefall for a moment before she was whisked back along with Leah. Soon her feet were on solid ground again and she stood in front of the Sorcerer Supreme himself. She looked around, glanced at Leah who, much like herself, was valid in her reactions.

”Oh…umm…hello,” she said awkwardly. She wasn’t expecting to have to interact with him right away, nor be flung through portals to come into his ‘office’.

”I suppose we do. Leah, want to start us off?”

”Uh- Yeah. I guess…” There were actually several things a wizard could be a huge help for, right about now. But… Priorities.

”I guess Vision already told you this, but there’s this stupidly dangerous supervillain around. He’s my dad, and he might be using magic… I met him earlier and he just vanished right before I could knock his teeth down his throat.”

Doctor Strange grimaced for a moment, before with a twirl of his hands a perfectly poured cup of tea appeared, and he took a lingering sip. “Ah. Yes. I must confess, I find the Vision’s texting style to be… less than palatable.” His eyes wandered around the room, before narrowing ever so slightly with interest as his gaze settled on Leah. “I thought we’d all agreed that ChatGPT was a bad idea.”

“At any rate, I keep a watchlist of individuals who might be a threat to this world - enchanted, of course,” he mused, before letting go of the cup and the tea immediately vanished, as he moved across the study to a wall filled with ancient tomes. “What is your father’s name?”

”Depends on what kind of mood he’s in. Alain Pavon, Blackbird, Imperator- He’s got a bunch of those that he’s known for… I stopped using my old name after I tried to kill him, a few years ago.”

At this point, keeping that small tidbit of information secret didn’t seem to matter that much.

”So depending on if he’s in your enchanted book, which I have to assume he is because you’re…well you, what’s going to happen? Are we going to business as usual? Gonna be honest, this whole thing has thrown me a bit and it’s not even my father.”

“Blackbird? I suppose I’ve heard worse,” Strange muttered. “Bound to run out of names eventually. Let’s see, Blackbird, Blackbird, Blackbird…” He took a well-loved book from the shelf, the cover practically in tatters, held together with tape and twine. The pages seemed to come to life before him, the book flinging itself open, before suddenly stopping. He studied the page carefully. Read it once, then once again. And then he turned back around to face the girls. “We? We aren’t doing anything. You’re children,” he reminded them. “Children without a shred of magical training.”

”I don’t get the impression you’ve been trained to shoot someone from really far away, or break someone in half with your bare fists,” Leah commented. ”Does that mean you’re doing nothing either?”

Sabine stepped closer to Leah. While Sabine agreed, for the most part, it was probably not the best idea to piss off the Sorcerer Supreme. ”Ok, let’s take a step back. With all due respect, Doctor Strange, Leah has a lot more experience with this man, training or not. And I am not about to sit around while some crazed maniac threatens everyone. I mean… Sabine was about to bring up Arcade, but was that a good example of what she could do? It was dangerous, yes, but Arcade didn’t hold a candle to Leah’s father.

”I’d like to help in some capacity, at least.

”I’m irritable right now, sorry.” It had been a long damn day.

The book snapped shut. Another time, he would have shunted Leah’s soul out of her body, just to make a point. He would have taken them to Kamar-Taj, where they trained not just in magic, but in physical combat. He would have impressed upon them how little they knew, how little they understood.

“Do you want to know a secret, Ms. Jordan?” he inquired. “You reek of magic - of enchantment. But not your father’s work. No. I’m afraid this is little more than a prank. If I had to guess, someone wants you off your game in the contest tomorrow. Probably one of my students.”

She stared at him for a moment.

”Is that what… This all is?” She waved a hand around to indicate the rocky skin she had grown after the incident in the gym. ”A prank? This happened after someone got hurt and I helped them, what am I missing here?”

”If this is all a prank,” though Sabine very much doubted it because who in their right mind would go to this great length over a contest, even one as important as this, ”then are you able to figure out who?” Surely the Sorcerer Supreme could. Unless this was just some way for him to get the two of them off his back.

He really didn’t know them if that was his goal.

“Oh, no, that’s quite real,” Strange assured her. “You’re a giantess - a bit far from home, but that isn’t uncommon these days. Earth is lousy with Asgardians and giants these days. As for who it is - all magic comes with a price, and if paying this price will bring you peace… and keep you from working the robot into a stress-driven malfunction… and remove you from my office… I will oblige.”

From his sleeve, he produced a small, smooth stone - and with a whispered word of power, it began to float, glowing a soft orange. “Take this. Follow it, and you will find your culprit.”

Leah took the stone, staring down at it curiously. ”…You’re telling me that wasn’t him. That no one’s in fu- That no one’s in danger.” She turned and fixed a really pissed off look on Sabine. The kind of look that conveyed things words couldn’t. ”I’m gonna kick someone’s ass for a field goal for this.”

Then she turned back and looked at the wizard. ”I’m- If I knew this was a prank, I would’ve just kept quiet about it. Sorry for making this your problem, seriously. And… Thanks. For whatever this thing is.”

Sabine bit her tongue. The fact this was all an elaborate “prank” to get into Leah’s head, possibly even her own, was ridiculous. However, as much as she wanted to get into the person’s brain and destroy it from within, this was Leah’s decision. She would back her up. They would also have to speak to April to calm her down if she saw any of the messages.

”Agreed. Thank you for that. Suppose we should get back and figure some things out.”

“Yes, I suppose you should,” Strange agreed, before the ground fell away beneath them once more, and they would land back safely at the school.

Leah nearly stumbled and fell flat on her face that time. That felt so damn disorienting.

She looked around. ”...Okay. So. We follow this magic stone. Find a wizard, fucking disembowel them, and then- I dunno. Worry about ourselves for the rest of the day after?”

Sabine grounded herself as quickly as she could. Something with Strange set her off a bit. Maybe he truly was just busy and had little time for antics but surely he could understand their worry. ”Do you want to do it now? If there is no danger, we have time. Or find out who it is and destroy them in the competition. Up to you either way, I have your back.”

”I’d rather fix this before whoever did it decides to fuck someone else over. What if April gets tricked into seeing her awful parents?” She asked. ”Or what if Vision has something he needs to tell us, and we think that’s another trick?”

”I said I have your back Leah. Whatever you decide, since it was your head they messed with.” The underlying message is clear: whatever you decide to do to them, I will assist.

”Yeah. Let’s go.”

The Season of the Enlightened

Silas Bracken

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_{Silas Bracken
Silas Bracken}

^{“My patience has limits.”}

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 I N F O C H A R A C T E R I N F O _________________________________________________________ | Silas Bracken | 24 | _________________________________________________________ | Cisgender Male (He/Him) | 6'1"/210lbs | _________________________________________________________ | Hetrosexual | Middle Class | C H A R A C T E R N O T E S C H A R A C T E R N O T E S _________________________________________________________ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Character Info Birthday: December 9th, 1787 Country of Origin: England Languages Spoken: English Affiliation: St. Eustice’s School Motivation: Silas’s main goal is to improve the position of the Enlightened in his own ways. Habits: Quietly pondering things, tapping his foot against the ground. Hobbies: Reading, fist-fighting, and travel. ► Fears -Death -Great Heights -Failure ► Skills -Negotiating -Planning -Brawling -Research ► Shortcomings -Subtlety -Guns -Social Standing -Swimming ► Likes -Winter -Meeting people -Peace -Black tea -Rainy weather ► Dislikes -Warm days -The upper class -Violence -Drinking -Ignorance - R U M O R S R U M O R S _________________________________________________________ [+] - S E C R E T S & L I E S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Rumors Some believe Silas got his station because he was once "normal" and able to fit into society as such, but ingested a maddening amount of the Empath drug and survived being twisted beyond recognition. The rumors suggest that his position at St Eustace's School is one of pity, in which he stays because no one wants to see one of the few "good monsters" fall to obscurity and die in a gutter somewhere. Many also whisper that a monstrous man such as him could only have such standing in society because of ties to the Dark Embers. After all, why else would anyone let him around children? ► Secrets When Silas was young and little more than a disfigured street urchin between one form and the next, he happened upon a robbery in a warehouse near where he slept. Three Dark Embers agent broke in to steal food and supplies, and then ran past him. A soldier stopped him and asked where the culprits had went, Silas lied and said they were running to a ship. They were never caught. -

E N L I G H T E N E D A B I L I T I E S E N L I G H T E N E D A B I L I T I E S ________________________________________________________________________________________ Manbeast: Silas is far removed from the physiology of the mundane. He resembles the dragons of old folktale, with skin made of jagged scales and tough hide far sturdier than that of the common man. This has made him not only a pariah among society, but brick on legs. Swords that try to bite through the sharp scales are blunted and cracked, bullets from the finest pistols of the day can barely get past Silas' skin. And most notable of all, he is strong. Silas has enough strength to lift a carriage over his head, pack an anvil around as if it's a paperweight, and more. These things make him someone no one wants to get into a scuffle with, but they also make him slow. Those without their own Enlightened abilities need only duck through alleys and around buildings for a fair chance at outrunning Silas. He sticks out like a sore thumb for multiple reasons, making him an easy target for more subtle Enlightened. B A C K S T O R Y B A C K S T O R Y ________________________________________________________________________________________ One only has to look at Silas to guess what he's faced. As a boy, he was set to become a blacksmith's apprentice in a town in England. By the time he turned 13, he began to show signs of a curious condition, in which his skin appeared bruised and discolored. His mother had originally wrote it off as soot or something accidental, but then it began to spread. When swinging a hammer to make nails, Silas would watch his skin flake off and leave something glossy underneath it. The blacksmith he worked under told him he needed to see a doctor, but they didn't know anything about it either. He never felt sick, even if his skin simply itched and ached somewhat on occasion. A month passed, and he started to grow protrusions out of his skin. They were sharp as daggers and tough as rock, and Silas' mother watched him slice firewood in half with is forearm alone. At that point, there was no more question that Silas was an Enlightened with a rather unfortunate ability. The changes kept coming and coming, and he couldn't stop them. Eventually, the skin on his arms became scales, and he began to grow spines out of his head. The people of his town weren't the most worldly, and it wasn't long until they went from thinking the boy had a gift to thinking he had a curse. They chased him out with fire and holy verses, and left him to wander the English countryside and the fringes of the urban world until the day he found his way to St. Eustace's School for the Enlightened. They took him in, and life was better for it. In time, his body became more dragon than man, and Silas had all but forgone the notion of fitting in. When his time as a student there was done, he elected to stay and assist in the school's wellbeing. Today, Silas is often one of those that the school sends out when they need someone to speak with prospective students from a distance. E X T R A S E X T R A S ________________________________________________________________________________________ Black Roses for the Wicked One Favorite show is Owl House, I guess

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Camp Athens - Closed

Azariah Willow // Chariselle Ashthorne

It was party time.

Azariah didn’t go to a lot of parties, normally. But he simply could not turn down the possibility of meeting many people and seeing who was amusing and who was boring. This was an opportunity to see where other godly children stood amongst each other, and who to watch out for.

It was a more interesting prospect than anything back home.

In the form of a tall man, Azariah stepped into the field where the party was going on. And sure enough, there were quite a few people in here already. He showed up in blatantly androgynous clothes. A dark blue shirt with a rather low collar and no sleeves, and wool pants. Several small charms hung from a bracelet on his left wrist, and he held a curious stick in his other hand. It was much too long to be a cane or a walking stick. In fact, it was big enough to be a spear but very much wasn’t. The tip forked into a Y shape, with stones stung in the gap.

”I didn’t know people still played this,” He mused, approaching the ground surrounding a cornhole game. ”I always imagined other demigod children threw spears for fun.”

Chariselle was a little bit distracted by the handsome man she had attempted to monopolize the attention of but a few new voices joined the fray. She turned to face the one closest to her. They appeared lackadaisical in their fashion choice. But they had an air about them and Chariselle remembered seeing them when she first arrived. Or did she? It was hard to tell.

”And I sort of expected more at a New Year’s party than throwing bean bags, but it’s this or a snowball fight and I am not getting this dress wet.” She turned to face them now. ”We haven’t met. I’m Chariselle, a pleasure.” She smiled warmly, turning her eyes over their frame and taking it all in.

”Azariah Willow.” He’d passed up the cute blonde girl when he walked in with a different shape and face. If he recalled, and he did, she was struggling with luggage while Azariah didn’t even have to carry his.

”I think I saw you at the front door, a few hours ago. You must have missed me,” He lied.

”A shame then. Let me make it up to you.” The insinuation was clear. Azariah could choose what reward they wanted. ”I am sure we can think of something to do together.”

A deep and hearty laugh was Chariselle’s reward for her forwardness. Azariah elected to play with his food, and twiddled his fingers around the Staff of Command.

”Well, aren’t you just a little firecracker? You must be one of hers.”

One of the bean bags lifted up into the air, suspended by telekinetic force. It instantly dove across the game area and straight into the hole.

Chariselle watched the little bag fly into its desired target. ”Impressive. By one of ‘hers’ I assume you mean who our parents are. I’ll admit I don’t have the slightest inkling who your’s might be. Some of us are more obvious than others, but if there’s one thing I learned from mother dearest is that it’s fun to chase what you want.”

He smirked. ”Then chase me, pretty thing. Who am I to stop you? But since you’re being nice about it, I’ll just tell you. I’m one of Hecate’s.” The tone in his voice almost sounded like he was warning Chariselle to be careful what she wished for.

Chariselle, admittedly, was not the most knowledgeable about the Greek gods. She knew of the common ones, the ones that almost everyone addresses: Zeus. Poseidon, Hades, etc. Admittedly, Hecate was not one she knew well. ”Well then, since you are being so nice as well, you should know never to challenge me. I always get my prize.”

She turned towards the game, grabbing one of the bags and throwing it. She knew it wouldn’t go in but there was a small bit of satisfaction when it hit and landed on the board. ”So what does a child of Hecate do?”

”We do things that are interesting. We scheme, we peer into magic that most would never see.”

That was not the same voice Azariah just had. The moment Chariselle turned away from him, she changed into a different form just to mess with her. Suddenly, she was the same height as the other woman, with longer hair. The low-neck shirt was suddenly filled out, and her voice turned feminine along with everything else.

”And we love a good illusion.”

Chariselle turned back around upon hearing the new voice. It shouldn’t have surprised her given that she was surrounded by people like her with a range of abilities, but Chariselle was taken aback a bit.

She recovered quickly. Never let them see you stumble. ”Aww, this is merely an illusion? I happen to like this form better.” Chariselle was not against any gender identity or expression. They were all beautiful under her eyes. There were many broken hearts of women she left in the dust too.

”It’s as real as I decide it is,” She said, cryptically. ”What people perceive and what they think is real can be different, or they can be the same thing. And I love playing with those definitions.”

She leaned in a little, a conspiratorial smirk on her face.

”You are full of surprises. And I do love unwrapping surprises.” Azariah was going to have her use. Their use? Either way, it was best to have them as an ally. ”What else can you do? I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

”Oh, but I already have shown you mine, haven’t I?” She teased. ”What can you do?”

They wanted a show, she would give them one. Chariselle dropped the other bag she was holding and moved closer to Azariah. What they would notice is that the people around them? Didn’t matter. The scene? Could be anywhere. It was similar to the feeling of getting high. Charielle’s appearance didn’t change but yet, she looked….better? As if all of the beautiful points on her face had emphasized themselves. Heartbeat quickening, goosepimples forming, and a strong desire to be anywhere else doing something that the other partygoers would maybe frown upon if they all weren’t horny themselves.

Chariselle reached for Azariah’s hand, holding it and allowing the warmth of the skin-to-skin- contact do it’s thing. ”This is only a hint of what I can do.” Then Chariselle dropped the hand and moved back. The symptoms dropping as well though one could still feel the lingering sensation. ”A taste. I promise it gets better.”

It was otherworldly, in Azariah’s mind. Of course a demigod of love would have such a trick. Blood was circulating faster under her skin, and she was amused.

”I believe you,” She said, sounding hooked. ”You want to chase me? That’s step one, girl.”

”Why chase when what I have is on offer? I’m new to this camp and I assume you are as well. Perhaps we can help each other and benefit from one another's efforts. From what I have heard so far, there’s lots to enjoy here and plenty of drama to feed any rumor mill for years.”

”Rumors… That’ll be fun.” Whatever Chariselle was doing, it was taking up most of Azariah’s attention.

”This party is awfully boring, don’t you think?”

”Oh honey, it was dreadful until you walked in. The weather out there is frightful but what say you and I make things oh so delightful?”

”That sounds like a terrible idea, beautiful… Lets.”

Azariah took hold of Chariselle’s hand. Her palms were unusually warm.

”Why don’t we get out of here?”

Chariselle took Azariah’s hand, feeling the tingle throughout her body. This was probably going to be a terrible idea, but that’s what the new year was for, wasn’t it?

”Lead the way.”

The events that followed have been left as an exercise to the reader.

The Season of the Enlightened

I have a few vibes in mind tbh

- A real fancy dude who's basically a dnd dragonborn and somehow "one of the good ones." Got scales and horns where his skin should be, hard to hurt and can breathe fire and shit.

- Scruffy ass sailor dude who was happier on the ocean, but can't go back for some reason. When he touches the bones of something dead, they spring to life and he can graft them into the shape of other things like a necromancer.

- Girl who lived in poverty and spend most days working for crumbs, only to find one day she could turn into fog and move really fast. Started stealing stuff this way, got caught doing it.

Camp Athens - Closed

Marlen Ross Child of Apollo * Main Hall

There were two types of people.

The ones who were smart, and the ones who learned. Marlen was the latter.

They’d slept in cold weather before. Had to, even. There were ways to make snow feel warm without melting, or to turn a metal coffin that people used to drive into something passable as overnight shelter. But that was typically in an American environment. In American winters, which weren’t so bad as the ones in this remote forest a hemisphere away. And so, the time-honored process of fucking around and finding out reminded Marlen how exactly they got by all those years. By not being a stubborn fuck.

They didn’t spend much time fussing over decorations in the cabin they picked. A bag was dropped to the floor, a blanket was tossed over Marlen’s shoulders, and they spent the next couple of hours just chilling. The party would be a good opportunity to figure things out and learn who people were. They just rested and waited patiently for a while. Without any real reason to move around or take a walk, they just didn’t. It was a long trip, and Marlen was used to long trips enough to take rest when it was available.

Maybe they’d all be as okay as Iliana.

It was probably an hour or so, maybe longer when Marlen decided to head back out. They weren’t really sure. They rummaged through their belongings and changed out of the lightly damp clothing they wore here. Replacing it, they put on not a fancy outfit suited for a party, but a parka that was a little big on them. It was old, and definitely worn a lot.

They searched around for a mirror, and shot a finger gun at it.

”Okay. Party time, party time… Proud of me yet, dad?”

There wasn’t a response.

Back out into the cold they went.

Marlen couldn’t easily imagine being around a lot of people. What were they meant to say? Hi, how’s the weather? That wouldn’t work, the weather was cold. Wonderful day we’re having? Nope, it was midnight. The thought plagued them while they wakes the distance from their cabin out into the broader areas of the camp. They used to go weeks without even laying eyes on a human being, let alone interacting with one. But this was supposed to be a new start, in a way. Marlen didn’t have to do it perfect. They just had to do it.

A bonfire was burning in the distance. There was one singular person sitting by it, from what they could see.

So Marlen approached, reaching behind their back and conjuring up a guitar. Holding it by the neck, with the body resting on a shoulder, they came within view and fixed a look on the demigod of water.

”This seat taken?”

^{interactions ....|.... River ............... mentions ....| @Mjolnir....}

The Season of the Enlightened

I have a couple of ideas. Is there a general “vibe” that powers tend to have or can it be theoretically anything? Like I read there was a shapeshifter and a metalbender but are there people who seem like they’re basically wizards to people who don’t know them?

Suppose, for example, someone was Enlightened in a way that let them draw shapes on something and cause weird things to happen. Or someone who could take a sword and a flintlock and touch them against each other, causing some weird gunblade thing to appear where they were

how wacky can the concept get?

The Season of the Enlightened

Fuck yeah