└Appearance:
While Quinn isn't the most genetically intimidating woman, as she stands at 5'7" and has an athletic build, her absolute confidence makes up for her normal body. The way she walks, the way she talks, the way she dresses, everything about her reeks of self-strength and conviction. Her attire is usually punk. Black leather jackets, dark jeans, and torn graphic tees are only a small portion of her regular clothing.
└Age:
20
└Gender:
Female
└Quirk Name:
Venomancer
└Quirk Type:
Mutant
└Quirk Description:
Quinn has a 1.6m long prehensile tail with a stinger at the end. The tail is capable of expanding to the girth of her leg or contracting to the girth of a 50cm snake. The tail itself is protected by segments of elastic plating. While shrunken down, the tail becomes noticeably softer but is able to freely undulate. It is also able to match the speed of a whip with similar efficacy. While enlarged, the segments become incredibly hard, rivaling the metal armour used on humvees. Though, it is only capable of moving the joints between the segments rather than having free movement. It is considerably slower than her thin tail, only reaching the speed of a regular punch. Despite being the speed of a regular punch, the blow can easily break bone and crack rock.
Within the tail are five poison sacs, each one unique. As the amount of venom she can pump into a single sting is limited, a single sting from each venom isn't a death sentence. However, as with all poisons and medicines, too much is completely lethal.
The first venom is a basic one. It causes general pain and swelling, but is otherwise not dangerous unless stung dozens of times.
The second venom is a strong cytotoxin, which causes deep sores, pain, a feeling of weakness, and fevers.
The third venom is a horrid hemotoxin. It causes internal hemorrage and muscle weakness, but it still isn't horribly dangerous.
The fourth venom is a weak neurotoxin, causing severe confusion and unspeakable amounts of emotional distress from the resulting hallucinations.
The fifth venom is a total anesthetic, eliminating pain in low doses while knocking them out with higher doses.
└Inventory & Possessions:
On her person, Quinn carries very little in the way of identifiable objects. She keeps $600 in her shoe and loose change in her pockets, but nothing else besides that.
Surprisingly, she lives an ascetic lifestyle. She lives in a basic apartment but spends more time sleeping at other people's homes. Besides the clothes she wears, she has very little in the way of permanent possessions. She subsists off of everything disposable. Burner phones, other people's stuff, anything that can be disposed of.
Her costume is one of the few things she keeps. Consisting of a wig, a mask, reinforced clothing, and a clawed glove that's resistant to pretty much everything, her costume doesn't stand out too much but conceals her identity.
└Sample Post:
The classy restaurant was bustling. Waiters in fancy suits carefully carried glasses of chardonnay and other expensive liquors to their guests, careful to not act out of line. The deep red carpeting still managed to give way to each step, showing no wear and tear. The dull candle lights made it hard to see anything that wasn't the food in front of each patron. Deep in the restaurant was a heavy-set man. By all accounts, he was the standard patron. Acted well, looked rich. In the regular streets, he would have stood out. But in this restaurant, he was normal. Nobody would have suspected him for anything.
But he was Quinn's mark. A man who had something very important. In the dimly lit restaurant, it was difficult to see that the man's wrist was handcuffed to a briefcase. A classic trope. If it weren't for this fatal mistake, he would have blended in with the other bougie connoisseurs. Had he been more careful, it wouldn't have to end up like this.
Quinn wasn't dressed as her normal self. That would draw too much attention, no. She wore a suit, a wig, some makeup, and postured herself as a man. Really, her unbridled confidence and aggression in her movement was indistinguishable from a young go-getter who made their living in something sad, like a super specific technology that had zero benefits or some cryptocurrency. As the heavy-set man kept on checking his watch, he had decided now of all times to relieve himself. Nervously, he walked to the washroom. Naturally, he took a stall away from the prying eyes of others.
Quinn followed him.
Taking the stall next to the man, she acted completely normal. After all, any camera in the washroom would have not pointed to the insides of the toilets, as that would be incredibly creepy for a high class establishment. Silently, Quinn's tail crept behind the small gap between the wall and the divider. In a flash, her tail crept around the man's mouth and stung him in the neck. A quick dose of anesthetic. The man quickly drifted off to dreamland. Without any hesitation, Quinn let the man slump back in his porcelain throne and stung the suitcase locks. This time, it wasn't as gentle. The stinger easily penetrated the lock, smashing the mechanism into bits. She carefully finessed the suitcase open and took the small stack of papers held within. Placing them hidden inside of her suit jacket, she left the washroom and then the restaurant.
If she had been a weirdo, she would have muttered a weird one-liner. Something along the lines of 'No gods, no masters.' That would have been pretty sad to say, though. She got the papers, and that was all that mattered.
Member
teenangstlife
Obscene Symphony
Inertia
Supermaxx
Lyla
Lugubrious
mickilennial
Bartimaeus
Vec
Lemons
