Debris and dust rained upon Valor on impact before settling into a light snowfall, marring the black of Valor’s body with sandy streaks of grey. It had been administering the sentence not moments ago, only for the beast to absorb the punishment in the most literal sense - reshaping its body like clay and using itself as a living fulcrum to turn Valor’s spear into a springboard as it launched the crusader away.
Crashing with a sound loud enough to blanket even the opera of screams, shouts and destruction in the warehouse, Valor - perhaps due to its newly acquired mortal vessel - couldn’t help but note that a normal human’s insides would almost certainly be reduced to paste from the speed velocity of such a collision.
A fist burst through the sheets of corrugated, rusted metal that had piled atop Valor. It, thankfully, was far from mortal. Merely inconvenienced by the destruction and ready for round two.
“RESISTANCE OF SENTENCE.” Valor dryly noted, its eyes flashing for a moment as if tallying up an internal list of violations.
Stomping out of its crater, the justice-driven knight did measure the beast with fresh eyes. Administering the sentence would not be quite as cut-and-dry as it had assumed. This understanding was not brought about by fear, that was an emotion solely for the guilty. It was done with pragmatism, the sooner this beast was felled the sooner judgement of the others could commence.
Speaking of…
“-If we get everyone, and I mean everyone, to hit that thing at the same time, and hard, we can slow it down while it adapts to the different attacks.”
"But what can we do? Kari?"
Valor considered the whimpering debate. Overtaxing the creature’s shifting biology may work, yes. Better still, it was an option that did not involve this beast escaping proper punishment. A dour looking girl with black hair had the right idea, using some unseen force to hurl nearby objects at the beast. Ineffective and overly-emotional though these children may be, they may make themselves of some minor use. Albeit, with some encouragement.
”FEAR AND MERCY HAVE MADE YOU WEAK,” Valor stated, not even deigning to look down at Kari, Ella, Lynn and Nora as it spoke. Instead, its “eyes” never left its quarry and its arms extended outward again.
”STEEL YOUR MINDS AND HEARTS. LEST THE DISEASE CONSUME YOU.” It added, cold and critical yet intended as some kind of encouragement.
Then, as if in emphasis, a fiery axe materialized in one hand and a flaming sword appeared in the other. Valor theorised that, if the creature’s form-shifting healing could be tired out, giving it multiple injuries of varying depth and intensity would further tax it.
Booming footsteps once more echoed through the warehouse as the knight did not await its allies of convenience to find their courage. There was justice to mete out.
Interactions: Lynn, Ella, Nori, Kari, Tyler, Vicky, Poor Corey, And a certain cheeky apparition Warehouse
Inexperience can make it difficult to discern what is abnormal in a scenario that’s already foreign. The delineation between expected and unexpected blurs as you try not to look out of place and go with the flow. So, when the party began to unravel like a dropped ball of yarn, Daniel Mars initially didn’t react.
Until the screaming began.
Lynn had appeared to zone out after Daniel finished speaking - with the easily-worried boy assuming he’d bored or offended her in some way. Even when her eyes returned to him, filled with sudden, primal terror, and her hand gripped his and began to yank him out of the party with expletive-laden haste, Daniel elected to simply follow her lead.
He should have continued to do so but instead he spared a glance that would sear into his mind forever. Unnatural angles, reality melting down and suffocating every unfortunate soul in the dregs. The sounds. God, the sounds. Skin separating like torn paper as bones bent and burst out of the flesh, screams of a pitch and intensity that Daniel had never thought possible. All of this in the first seconds, before he and Lynn passed through the door and into the evening woods, her foresight or quick reaction speed had given them only a taste of the nightmare that was unfolding inside that warehouse.
This girl had saved his life, even in hysteria the rational part of his mind knew this. He was one of the lucky ones. These truths did not comfort him as the weight of all that had happened in the span of seconds threatened to crack Daniel's mind and made his legs buckle under him.
Panting, sweat dripping from his face and pooling onto the floor. The only victory he achieved was that his stomach was so thoroughly knotted that he couldn't vomit up the contents of that afternoon's lunch, even though he desperately wished to.
“I knew these parties were against the rules!” Daniel despaired into the void.
With magnetic force and precision, Daniel suddenly clasped his hands together. Burying his face against them as his eyes began to drip. This girl, Lynn, had saved him. Saved his foolish, worthless, sinful life. All he could do was weep on the grass as the sounds of horror intensified in the building behind them. He recognised many of the screams, the panicked yells, the pleas that fell on unsympathetic ears as whatever demonic forces that had arisen played with their food.
“F-father who art in heaven, Hallowed be… thy name…” Daniel began to murmur shakily. There would be little salvation for him, he knew that. Knew that even if his love for God hadn't wavered, his sense of right and wrong had. He had questioned the word of his father, flaunted his disobedience and for that he'd face whatever consequences awaited him.
“Thy kingdom come; thy will- will be done on earth. As it is in Heaven.” But his peers, these children - whatever their individual morality may be - did not deserve this fate. They'd made no such pledges of virtue, had not dishonoured their superiors in the same way.
“I pledge myself to Your mercy. I give You honour. I leave room for You to do what Your wisdom knows is… is…” wavering, Daniel’s warbling plea faltered into hopeless despair. What was happening inside this remote slaughterhouse was not right. Was not fair. Was not…
“JUSTICE.” Daniel Mars cut-off the prayer with a voice that was not his own.
Eyes drying, heart slowing into a steady, ominous rhythm. A presence had emerged onto this plane of existence, birthed by a desire for impartiality and fairness, or perhaps having always existed in some nascent form. The call of the guilty and repentant Daniel Mars had lured it into the world, providing a conduit to deliver a verdict.
Daniel's eyes deepened to an unnaturally dark blue. His spirit judged the righteousness of the slaughter within the warehouse.
And found it wanting.
Standing, changing. Daniel Mars looked into the eyes of Evelynn Serenelight, his face placid.
“I-” he began - an aborted attempt of gratitude, sympathy or perhaps confusion. He would never know, as his head jerked forward like a child roughly correcting the posture of a toy.
It undid Lynn's selfless work, marching back into the warehouse with heavy stomps. Skin thickening and growing into jagged, black stone. Daniel Mars’ face was swallowed beneath a cocoon of the cracked obsidian shell, shaping itself into a perverse facsimile of a knight's helm.
The screams muffled and the roulette of light inside the warehouse swallowed the black knight as it left Lynn behind. Valor cared not, there was much work to be done.
The Warehouse Massacre
What awaited inside was a circus of violence. Those that fled with reckless abandon - throwing themselves through glass and cracks in the rusted walls in the process - had survived, those that had lingered a half-second too long were largely smeared across the walls and floor, the rest were clawing at each other like rabid animals to shove themselves out the doors. Warriors had emerged as well, shown now to Daniel through Valor’s eyes.
Nora, Ella, Kari, these names meant little to the apparition but it knew them all the same. Knew some of their habits and mannerisms, if not on an intimately personal level. All these new, superfluous, details flooded its mind. They were kind, likeable, and currently being batted away with the indifference only a truly powerful being could muster. Kari, the apparent strategist of this duo, tended to the wounded. Valor knew their problem even without the personal details, they were focused on the wrong thing. The act of saving lives or defending honour is, in and of itself, a selfish endeavor. There is only one motive that matters.
There were others of more immediate interest. The discordant wails of Victoria Prescott, the callow mutterings of Tyler Fox and, in a surprising instant, the confused and trembling body of Corey Aquino. The loose voice inside Valor’s mind was notably less complimentary of these three, yet weakly insisted they were misunderstood in some manner. Valor did not care, they would face judgement in some future time.
A splat. Perhaps some would face judgement sooner than others.
The boy, Corey, went from dazed fear to no expression at all. The pure concussive power of the beast jerked down onto his chest like a collapsing tree, caving in his torso and rupturing his limbs in a shower of gore - Valor noted an unfamiliar simile in its mind, comparing it visually to a water balloon falling from a roof and bursting against the sidewalk. It had no time to interject regardless, yet Valor felt nothing all the same. Whether or not this boy could’ve been saved was irrelevant, Valor’s purpose was singular.
“ABOMINATION.” Valor spoke, reverberating and bombastic but no discernable emotion. “YOU HAVE COMMITTED UNRIGHTEOUS SLAUGHTER WITHOUT PROPER JUDGEMENT.”
Arm outstretching, white fire exploded around Valor’s hand and instantaneously formed into the shape of a burning spear. The black crusader stood rigid, addressing the monster with calm certainty.
“THE SENTENCE IS DEATH.”
Then, with sudden and frightening speed, Valor hurled itself forth with the spear’s bladed tip aimed at the beast.
’Darn, she must be very popular!’ Daniel thought to himself with no hint of irony, completely missing Lynn silently reorienting herself after the odd phrasing, mistaking it instead for cool charm.
“I just moved here from Oregon a couple of weeks back and figured I’d see what the vibe was ahead of the start of class. Not sure what I think of my potential classmates. My name is Serenlight, Lynn. Put it together, and you get me, Lynn Serenlight,”
Smiling politely and repeating the name a few times in his head to try and reaffirm it, Daniel couldn’t help but feel a little envious. That was an introduction! Confident, concise, new or not this Lynn Serenlight was clearly going to have no trouble making friends in the school year. Daniel suddenly felt a pang of self-consciousness, compared to Lynn he was a neonate to the party scene and was beginning to get reminded of that fact.
With luck, he could play it casual and not let his inexperience of how his peers spent their time show. He just needed to avoid the topic wherever possi-
“You come to a lot of these?”
Ah, well, nevertheless.
”O-oh, yeah, absolutely!” Daniel yelled, matching Lynn’s volume and yet still finding it hard to hear himself think. ”Actually, just a few months ago I was at…”
Deflating, grimacing in that way people do when their brain wonders what the hell their mouth is even talking about. Daniel was good at some things, a few of them perhaps even unexpected, lying was not among that category. His stomach had already been lurching when he answered Lynn’s question in the affirmative, trying to come up with an example simply made it twist into a Gordian Knot.
”Um, to be honest with you, no I don’t,” his smile remained yet his face sagged a little, it was kind of nice being seen as a normal kid by someone who didn’t know better, ”this is actually the first real party I’ve been to. As you can probably tell, I’m not very used to it.”
Daniel rubbed the back of his neck, even if his lie had barely made it a few steps forward before stumbling he still felt bad even attempting it. Lynn was thankfully easy to talk to and it was wrong of him to take advantage of her newcomer status, perhaps his moral fiber had changed more than he realised. With a glance, he looked at the party with renewed eyes, spotting some of the familiar faces and pairings thrown together by the merriment. Ella and her friends happily chatting away, Tuyen trailing behind Vicky - who looked a little more on edge than she normally did - even Lexi was taking the time to interact with a boy Daniel didn’t recognise.
”Well, welcome to Cornell, Lynn.” He said, turning back to face her. ”My party knowledge might be lacking but I’m happy to give you the lay of the land, so to speak. These are good people here.” He hesitated a little, even Daniel wasn’t that naive. ”Er, some are a little fractious before you get to know them, b-but they mean well… I think.”
Time slowed to a hideous crawl as Daniel Mars drowned in anxiety, any self-assurance he'd won in tempering the hyperstimulation of his surroundings had leaked right out of him and been replaced with half-formed apologies.
So overwhelming were his nerves and concern that he found himself caught in some feedback loop, the higher parts of his brain watching his body try to babble a sentence before self-consciously cutting itself off repeatedly. That same suffocating mixture of light and sound made it feel as if every eye was on him, even if his rational mind knew they probably weren’t. None of this helped by the girl’s, admittedly rather intimidating, glare as she turned on the floor and looked up at Daniel.
Then, she chuckled and her gaze softened. A gesture that was enough of a tension clearer that Daniel was able to regain his composure and respond with a weak smile of his own. Certainly it wasn’t a sign all was forgiven - Lexi would chuckle similarly before saying something inflammatory about Jesus, for example - but it was a step, at least for Daniel, to halt his directionless regret.
“You’re forgiven, party boy,” Lynn paused as her head crooked to the side and her smile lingered, “help a girl up?”
And suddenly the shame flooded right back into him. At least he had more control over it this time.
”Oh! Of course, of course!” Daniel cringed, wrapping both his hands around Lynn’s right and gently pulling her up to her feet, ”I- I really am sorry again! I- I lost my footing, I hope you’re not hurt.”
Even if his command of language returned, his self-flagellating mentality didn’t let up. Bad enough to crash into this poor girl, now he’d been too self-concerned to offer her a hand up, not even an hour into his first high school party and he was already becoming quite an asshole. Not helped was the sticky sensation he felt on Lynn’s hand from when she hit the floor, he hadn’t even considered the amount of refuse coagulating on the ground and slowly becoming some new, horrific organism. Returning to his apologetic smile, Daniel took the opportunity to shake Lynn’s hand.
”My name’s Mars. Er, Daniel. Put them together it’s Daniel Mars, or party boy, whatever you like,” a weak chuckle, releasing her hand and stepping back just a smidge too far to give her more breathing room than she could possibly need.
It occurred to Daniel, now not drowning in neurosis any more than usual, that he’d never actually seen this girl around town or campus, certainly she had a unique enough look that Daniel would’ve remembered if he had. So, he’d inadvertently assaulted a newcomer, yet another thing to kick himself over. At the very least, Daniel always enjoyed learning about new people and talking directly to someone was helping him put the overstimulation of the party behind him without even realising.
”Are you, um, new here?” He asked, having to lean forward and yell over the music a little louder on account of moving too far back, ”circumstances aside, it’s nice to meet you if you are!” A thought occurred to him, better hedge his bets just in case he appeared any ruder, ”Uh, apologies if you’re not and I didn’t notice!”
Stirring in her crib, little sounds of discomfort began to emerge from young Jerusha Mars. Suddenly, just as soon as the noises began, they quieted as a pair of hands gently pulled her blanket up to just beneath her chin, comforting the infant and letting her drift off fully to sleep.
"Don't worry, Jerusha. I won't be gone long." Daniel Mars whispered, leaning over the crib and looking down at his sister with a warm smile. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small walkie-talkie with the "call" button taped down, gently placing it in the crib a few inches from Jerusha. "Just in case, if you need anything or you have a bad dream, mother and father will be able to hear you."
As he tiptoe'd out of the room, Daniel, yet again, began to internally question himself. Was this all worth it? What was he hoping to prove? How irate would his father be if he ever found out? When Daniel reached the door and flipped on his sister's nightlight, he allowed himself a moment to recompose, taking as much solace from the soft blue light himself as much as his slumbering sister. Then, after slowly shutting the door with a barely audible click, it was time to prepare.
Showering, brushing hair, washing hands, de-linting his sweater and, for some reason, brushing his teeth, Daniel felt comfortable he'd checked all the bases for what would be his first ever party. Now he was ready for the final and most important step, grabbing the other walkie-talkie from his bedroom and sneaking over to his parents, Daniel peeked through the door, finding his mother sprawled out across the entire bed and drooling onto the pillows.
'Drat!' He thought to himself, adrenaline coursing enough for him to use a normally too-harsh-for-him expletive. He couldn't leave the walkie with just his mother, he'd forgotten that around this time was when she normally took enough sleeping pills to knock a rhino unconscious.
Thus, only one route was left available. Daniel descended towards the living room like a master of espionage, back against walls, slipping between cover, watching out for nonexistent guard patrols. Finally, he'd made it down the stairs and to his destination, having expected to put his stealth abilities to the absolute test and instead seeing that it wouldn't be necessary. Michael Mars, instead of upright and alert, sat slumped in his favourite chair, snoring softly as his limp hand dribbled the thimbleful of bourbon left from his glass directly onto his sweater vest.
Daniel stood there for a moment, quietly taking in the pathetic sight of his father - illuminated by a still active television and with the trail of spilled alcohol traveling down from his chest to the front of his pants, making it appear as if he'd urinated himself.
"Phew!" Daniel happily exclaimed, wiping some imagined sweat from his brow. Questioning absolutely nothing about this scene, he walked over and left the walkie-talkie by the foot of his father's chair.
"Good night, father!" Daniel cheerfully waved as he casually left through the front door.
"Ugh." Michael Mars burped in reply, eyes firmly shut as the foul stench of his consumed drink continued to waft around the room.
Warehouse
This might've been a mistake.
It wasn't quite as simple as calling the experience "overwhelming", that likely applied to even the expert partygoers. The music, which felt as though it shook bodies down to the skeleton, the sensory overload of lights and noise as voices screamed over each other for dominance, the wall-to-wall mass of humanity from what seemed to be every single person and then some from Cornell High decided to attend tonight's festivities, the stench of body-odour, alcohol, extremely generously applied perfumes and colognes. No, for Daniel Mars, this was the equivalent to someone who's never even seen a body of water being tossed into the ocean and forced to learn how to swim.
The first time he stepped in he had to leave immediately just to catch his breath, journey's two and three hadn't fared much better. Now, on his fourth expedition, he'd managed to steel himself enough to withstand the immediate onslaught, at least enough to get a lay of the land.
"I want to make this a night to fuckin' remember!" Lupe shouts, "Because I make every night a night to remember!"
He winced, first at the cussing and then the extremely loud cheer that followed. However he took this as a good sign, he was still here, among the bodies and taking everything in. The one good thing to be said about the madness surrounding him was that it took his mind away from the doubts, he was so wrapped up in trying to make sense of everything that he was no longer questioning why he made the journey in the first place.
If anything, he was getting strong enough to take proper stock of his surroundings. He knew the girl who yelled, Lupe, well, knew was a strong word, she was a vibrant girl who everyone at least noticed. He saw Danny Graham, who'd once "accidentally" shoulder checked Daniel into a locker for the crime of having the same name, an act that had Daniel seeing black circles in his right eye for several weeks, he wisely gave Graham a wide berth. Moving closer where there was less mingling and more dancing, Daniel could not help but spot the loud and assertive yells of Ella Brooks, a girl Daniel only knew by appearance on account of her phosphorescent pink hair. Even still, it made him smile to see someone having fun without appearing to drink themselves stupid, in fact she appeared quite sprightly as he charged forward, getting closer and closer and-
"Oof!" Daniel yelped as Ella separated the sea of drunken teenagers to reach her friend, inadvertently knocking the skinny young man aside in her rush.
As he toppled backwards, he collided with a girl he'd never met before, certainly a girl he'd never accidentally slammed into before. Catching a shock of her ghostly blonde hair shimmering against an orange light overhead and the jet black eyeliner that gave her gaze an especially piercing quality. These were all perceptions that did not come immediately to Daniel Mars as he instead stumbled over himself in embarrassment.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to knock into you! That's my bad!" Daniel exclaimed, voice modulating a little too loudly and a little too quiet as he tried to voice a genuine apology over the music.
"If this is all part of His plan, I’m- uh, I don’t think I get it."
_______________________________________________ Daniel Elijah Mars
He/Him | 16 | Caucasian | 5'7ft | 148lbs _______________________________________________ Righteous _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "Faith can move mountains!… Don’t know what it does against monsters though." ___________________________________
Son of a Preacher Man ⫻ As would be expected, Daniel is full of knowledge and wisdom from the Good Book. Of little practical use, however its passages and support can provide valuably stabilising mental help in these ever-stressful days.
Fools Despise Wisdom & Instruction ⫻ While not conducive for his social popularity, Daniel is a noted hard worker by the teachers of Cornell High and he accordingly excels at most of his subjects - sans chemistry. His street smarts and common sense may be lacking but Daniel can, if nothing else, provide useful and insightful information academically, provided anyone bothers to listen.
Neurosis Be Damned My Boy Can PLAY ⫻ Despite appearances, Daniel is actually quite good at sports and enjoys playing them. He’s considered one of the better runners on the school’s track team and is an extremely valuable centre fielder on the school baseball team, naturally showing good sportsmanship throughout. His running form is notably very rigid and has more than once been compared to that of the T-1000 from Terminator 2.
Timothy 5:8 ⫻ Though of course his mother and father are infallible and righteous disciples of God, their working hours and divine duty often leave them with little time to look after Daniel’s infant sister, Jerusha. This has essentially forced Daniel into the role of babysitter most days of the week and as a result he’s grown to be surprisingly quite good at childcare, it’s at least one of the few areas in which he does not second guess and mentally self-flagellate over every aspect.
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Mother tells me to keep a well-ironed shirt so that food stays on our table and my sister isn’t corrupted by demons and Jesus keeps loving us."
Cutting a short - albeit wiry - figure, with thoroughly shampoo’d and conditioned brown blonde hair, warm brown eyes, freckles and a look that perennially screams “please mug me”, Daniel Mars is far from the image of peak masculinity. Every aspect of Daniel’s appearance reads as someone making a concentrated effort to appear neat and presentable despite obvious tells of their neuroticism, his curly hair brushed extensively in the morning only to perpetually look, at least, a little messy due to constant tampering and readjusting with his hands, his fair skin which always looks recently cleaned and maintained yet is offset by things like chewed fingernails or a strain in his eyes when trying to smile through an increasingly worsening problem.
Both due to his self-esteem, upbringing and as a survival mechanism, Daniel’s expressions are almost always neutral and inoffensive, a placid or excited smile as if every day in Cornell were the best day ever, though he does tend to have trouble with eye contact. While on the shorter side for his age, Daniel often appears taller than he is - even coming off gangly at times - due to his thin frame and a drilled-in obsession with good posture, something the school photographers have praised as his rigidity makes him an easy subject to frame even after sometimes hours of set-up.
One might charitably describe Daniel’s fashion style as somewhere adjacent to “geek chic”, a less charitable person would probably say he dresses like an asshole. A universal constant is, of course, his cross necklace while a somewhat close second is a travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer or handkerchiefs in his pockets. Daniel tends towards neutral colours, brown, black, white, beige if he’s feeling “jazzy”. Dressed with presentation and the Pennsylvania climate in mind, he often opts for a pressed and ironed shirt beneath a freshly washed and meticulously defluffed sweater or sweater vest, coupled with a pair of formal light coloured pants (also pressed, natch) and some well-shined oxfords.
An additional reason for layering is to hide the faded but still noticeable welts lining his back on account of his father’s predilection for the belt or the more recent markings from bullies.
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Study hard, be positive and always listen to father, even when he’s been drinking."
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Daniel Mars is far from perfect, yet an undisputed fact is that he has tried to do good, and the world has rarely stopped punishing him for it. Beneath his enthusiasm and smiles, the abuse, isolation and existential confusion have certainly, most definitely not begun to blossom into a crisis of faith from which has only been exacerbated by recent events. Daniel’s preferred outcome would be to find some sense of renewal and meaning in his beliefs, reconcile the delusion of his family and life as wonderful with his growing desire to flee them forever, exorcise the demon currently residing in part of his soul and, most immediately, put a halt on the strange and sacrilegious goings-on in town. Not asking for much!
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Shakes to his morale aside, Daniel was and still is a devout follower of Christianity. The sermons from his father and his own personal studies had helped guide him through much of a tumultuous life initially - even with some contradiction of what the correct standard of living is to be, compared to his immediate role models - but that has become less and less of a steady guide as he’s aged. Nonetheless, Daniel genuinely believes in understanding and kindness to others, judging no one for their troubles or beliefs and always striving to improve as a human being. His positivity, non-confrontational attitude and purity can easily come off as annoying but given that much of his free time is spent doing voluntary work or other charitable endeavors, it’s hard to argue the sincerity.
SECRETS ⫻ The fact that Daniel is more high-strung, depressed and muddled than he’d like to present is not a particularly well-kept secret, however, the fact that he has something of a rebellious streak actually is. Seeing morality often be callously flaunted by others - including those with a religious duty to adhere to it - had caused Daniel to test the limits himself, sneaking a few extra sips of the communion wine, borrowing and then NOT returning a pencil in grade school. Of course, the most notable example of this was a certain party in an abandoned warehouse and the events that followed, something Daniel is not wholly convinced isn’t somehow his fault and all the problems since are some sort of divine retribution.
SEXUALITY ⫻ Daniel is, at least, straight, certainly as far as he knows anyway. A highly religious conservative household is not exactly the best environment for self-discovery.
FEARS ⫻ While always willing to stretch himself to fulfill whatever irrational designs others have upon him, Daniel is wary of a great many things in life, chief among recently is the spirit infesting his body. There are however two things above all else that chill Daniel to his core. The possibility that, despite everything he has been told, God is not there, or worse yet, He does exist and He is displeased.
REPUTATION ⫻ To his peers, Daniel is a gullible, overly-cheery and often sanctimonious loser who is, not unwarrantedly, a frequent target of pranks or bullying. To the older generation of Cornell, Daniel is the sweet - if dimly innocent - son of the town preacher, always giving his time and effort for the community and anyone who seeks his aid. To the local homeless, he is known as “The Soup Kid”. None of these perceptions are strictly wrong.
FLAWS ⫻ Daniel is a pushover, his positivity and earnest desire to be a kind, empathetic and helpful presence in the lives of others often means he’ll take people at the word even when he himself knows that it may not be the best course of action. In spite of his positive qualities, he rarely believes in himself and defers to the instruction of others, authority figures in particular. Magically speaking, this new world of abstraction and reality warping is something his tightly wound brain struggles to comprehend and he particularly dislikes cooperating with or especially handing control over to the apparition he is adjoined with.
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Oh boy! Time for another GREAT day where nothing bad EVER happens!"
Daniel Mars was born to the perfect father - the charismatic and wealthy preacher, Michael Mars - the perfect mother - the beautiful and personable former pageant star, Aimee Mars - and is the elder brother to the perfect little sister - the bright-eyed and pure one year old infant, Jerusha Mars. Therefore, Daniel is to be the perfect son, intelligent, industrious, athletic, virtuous and most importantly of all, God-fearing.
The truth is, as always, less cut and dry. Michael Mars is indeed a charismatic and well-respected man of God, he is also small, petty, violent, prone to drink and forever bubbling with self-conscious anger that his career in the entertainment industry never went anywhere and he is reduced to singing and preaching for bumpkins in a podunk town like Cornell. Aimee Mars is indeed the picture of serenity, she is also perpetually doped up on a cocktail of pills and largely on a plane of her own reality, all the better to enrage her ranting husband. Between this lies Daniel, armed only with faith that has been drilled into him since birth alongside strict rules of conduct and corporal punishment.
Accordingly, Daniel grew into a teenager with a strong work ethic and maladjusted social skills. His optimism and positive qualities came from natural inclination or a rare positive influence in his upbringing, yet his deference to authority and mild indoctrination has him, for the most part, convinced all of it spawns from the good teachings and firm hand of his parents. Bizarrely, this left Daniel ill and well prepared for the almost ritualistic bullying and teasing that followed him as he entered the education system, both too positive to let it ruin him and too used to arbitrary pain to effectively resist or circumvent the harassment in any meaningful way.
Going into his teenage years, as it does for most adolescents, brought about significant change and confusion to this routine however. Daniel came to find less and less comfort in the psalms, parables and drunken ramblings (helpfully provided by his father) that seemed to make sense of the abuse he suffered. Any routes for introspection and growth weren’t exactly clear however, neither of his parents were the picture of self-actualization nor did they have any desire to confront that fact, which led to Daniel mildly being confronted by the fact that, despite any potential good he could feasibly do, there was little to actually like about Cornell Pennsylvania. If this, the beautiful little town he had been told since birth was blessed by God, was so fraught with flaw, what did that say about the rest of the world?
These thoughts and questions festered into “rebellion”, of a sort. Daniel, still innocent and good-intentioned, started testing the boundaries that his parents had told him would lead to damnation or some other grizzly fate just for considering them. Whether that was such heinous actions as handing in a project a few hours before the deadline, not properly tucking in his shirt at service or even not replenishing the soda cans in the fridge after taking the last one! The problem was, none of these acts gave Daniel much in the way of perspective, that is until he heard of a party happening in the old warehouse. A promising opportunity, if a rather nerve-wracking one. Daniel, unsurprisingly, had never been to a party before, perhaps there he could find some kind of clarity in seeing how the other side of Cornell lived, perhaps he could speak with and save some potential lost souls.
Perhaps, Hell itself would spill forth into Cornell and Daniel would run afoul of a particularly clingy demon.
He could not tell you much of the incident, indeed, Daniel had been ready to flee already from the lights, revelry and underaged drinking. When it seemed that damnation had arrived on Earth, Daniel didn’t even realise he was running until he’d already broken through tree clearings in a mad dash to never again bear his eyes on that warehouse and the horrors within. Out in the twilight, screams of his peers echoing behind him, Daniel fell to his knees and tearfully prayed, a mumbling terror-filled plea that lacked meaning or sense as, for the first time, Daniel believed God was not there.
His prayer was answered. Among the manner of comprehension defying demons that tore into Cornell was one that considered itself above its peers, disdaining their senseless cruelty or especially their gleeful sadism, drawn to a particular font of unjust suffering and desire to protect. In an instant, Daniel Mars ceased to exist, and Valor was given form, rushing off towards the slaughter to deliver righteous judgement.
When he finally awoke to daybreak peeking through the trees, Daniel felt his muscles sting after being pushed past their limits, his hands cracking and black with dried blood and the instinctual knowledge that somehow or some way, many, many things had died by his hand.
“WAKE, APOSTLE,” a voice commanded from the depths of Daniel’s soul, “THERE IS WORK TO BE DONE.”
Abstraction ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "JUSTICE IS NOT BLIND, I WITNESS FOR HER."
TYPE ⫻ Aberration (Adjoined)
ABSTRACTION ⫻ Daniel is Adjoined with and can transform into Valor - an apparition whose considerable raw power grows in response to perceived injustice.
ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻ Daniel’s body is now, reluctantly, a vessel for both himself and the “avatar of justice” Valor. By seceding control - or having it wrestled from him - to Valor, Daniel’s body takes the form of and is (largely) piloted by the apparition.
Visually, Valor takes a mostly humanoid shape, resembling a savage mockery of a knight templar. His “armour” appears less as shining steel and closer to blackened rock, capable of withstanding powerful blows and magical attacks. Its helmet - still bearing the distinctive cross shape on the front - is wreathed in a volatile azure flame, housing only shadow and two unblinking, perpetually flaring yellow eyes that peer judgingly from within. Appropriately, Valor cuts an intimidating figure at a muscular six feet and seven inches tall, with a shadow cast by its self-sustaining flames that grows considerably larger and seems to fall upon those Valor judges as especially wicked. When Valor speaks, its sentences are to the point and spoken in a powerful, if tinny baritone.
As it pertains to abilities, Valor is, rather fittingly, as blunt and inflexible as the apparition itself. Valor’s form enables greatly enhanced durability, strength and destructive power, all with the potential to grow in proportion with Valor’s righteous anger at the injustices of another. While limited in terms of adaptability, Valor's one-track instrument of karmic retribution tends to serve it fine, particularly when stoically marching through devastating force to deliver punishment.
MY HANDS FOR WAR AND MY FINGERS TO BATTLE ⫻ Valor prefers brute force over traditional magic, however, it can marry the two disciplines by summoning a temporary weapon to its hands for battle. Bathed in “divine” fire, Valor calls forth a traditional weapon to extend its reach and judgement, with usual suspects being a greatsword, greataxe, lance or, rarely, a shield.
THE WICKED WILL PERISH ⫻ As mentioned, Valor’s noteworthy physical power and endurance will grow even further to match with the perceived evil of whatever the target of its wrath is, the greater the sin the greater the boost in strength. Valor claims that, under the right set of circumstances, its might could grow enough in a moment to unmake the All-Verse itself, something Daniel is more than dubious of.
LIMITS ⫻ While certainly powerful, Valor is very much a one-track mind. As the apparition is mostly in control of the form, it lacks any capacity or desire to consider things like lateral thinking. It's spells and powers help it do one thing and thing only - walk down the target of its immediate ire and rip it to death. While Valor is resistant to spells to some extent, it can be fooled, slowed or beaten by wearing it down, occasionally requiring external help to keep it sticking to a plan when facing anything that has sentient thought.
Additionally, in the event it takes too much damage even for its durability to withstand, it will forcibly revert back to Daniel and be unable to reform for at least a few hours. It will also complain incessantly as it is a sore loser.
MY HANDS FOR WAR AND MY FINGERS TO BATTLE ⫻ The constructs are as capable of inflicting pain as their corporeal origins, however Valor's weapons can only be used once before vanishing in a swift blaze. Additionally, these arms take a second to burn into existence and will vanish if “let go” preemptively by Valor, making their use more situational and tactically oriented for an apparition that notoriously favours one tactic.
THE WICKED WILL PERISH ⫻ Valor - even by the standards of apparitions - is of limited imagination and intricate thought when it pertains to the psychology of others. What is evil and what Valor considers evil are generally in line and it is capable of factoring in context but it abhors mercy and believes perfection comes only from punishment, be that a scolding or a beheading. Additionally, beings that act on instinct such as animalistic paranormal creatures give no boost, as while their actions are perspectively evil, Valor notes, to its chagrin, that punishing them for a transgression it has no rationality to consider would not really work.
WEAKNESSES ⫻ Valor functions as a blunt judgment tool, lacking subtlety or foresight. It responds to perceived injustice rather than strategic planning and can be baited or misled through manipulations of morality. Ambiguity and clever deceptions confuse it, creating vulnerabilities. Its connection to Daniel means any harm or restraint to Daniel affects Valor directly. Excessive damage causes a reversion, leaving Daniel exposed while it recovers, and environmental hazards or attacks on Daniel can interrupt it or cause it to lose control. Its power intensifies with anger and perceived wickedness, but extreme fury can cloud judgment, leading to overreach, miscalculation, or the ignoring of collateral hazards. Strong opponents can exploit its aggression to isolate or flank it. Weapons crafted by Valor are temporary, slow to appear, and disappear if misused or released, creating offensive gaps. Its focus on "evil" means it often doesn't recognize instinct-driven, chaotic, or morally ambiguous foes, allowing attacks that evade provoking its wrath while threatening Daniel. Finally, Valor’s inability to adapt or strategize makes it predictable.
Other ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Amen."
Daniel is naturally averse to swearing or blasphemy. He won’t chide others for doing either but will try to muffle his hearing of it or at least censor it in his mind.
"If this is all part of His plan, I’m- uh, I don’t think I get it."
_______________________________________________ Daniel Elijah Mars
He/Him | 16 | Caucasian | 5'7ft | 148lbs _______________________________________________ Righteous _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "Faith can move mountains!… Don’t know what it does against monsters though." ___________________________________
Son of a Preacher Man ⫻ As would be expected, Daniel is full of knowledge and wisdom from the Good Book. Of little practical use, however its passages and support can provide valuably stabilising mental help in these ever-stressful days.
Fools Despise Wisdom & Instruction ⫻ While not conducive for his social popularity, Daniel is a noted hard worker by the teachers of Cornell High and he accordingly excels at most of his subjects - sans chemistry. His street smarts and common sense may be lacking but Daniel can, if nothing else, provide useful and insightful information academically, provided anyone bothers to listen.
Neurosis Be Damned My Boy Can PLAY ⫻ Despite appearances, Daniel is actually quite good at sports and enjoys playing them. He’s considered one of the better runners on the school’s track team and is an extremely valuable centre fielder on the school baseball team, naturally showing good sportsmanship throughout. His running form is notably very rigid and has more than once been compared to that of the T-1000 from Terminator 2.
Timothy 5:8 ⫻ Though of course his mother and father are infallible and righteous disciples of God, their working hours and divine duty often leave them with little time to look after Daniel’s infant sister, Jerusha. This has essentially forced Daniel into the role of babysitter most days of the week and as a result he’s grown to be surprisingly quite good at childcare, it’s at least one of the few areas in which he does not second guess and mentally self-flagellate over every aspect.
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Mother tells me to keep a well-ironed shirt so that food stays on our table and my sister isn’t corrupted by demons and Jesus keeps loving us."
Cutting a short - albeit wiry - figure, with thoroughly shampoo’d and conditioned brown blonde hair, warm brown eyes, freckles and a look that perennially screams “please mug me”, Daniel Mars is far from the image of peak masculinity. Every aspect of Daniel’s appearance reads as someone making a concentrated effort to appear neat and presentable despite obvious tells of their neuroticism, his curly hair brushed extensively in the morning only to perpetually look, at least, a little messy due to constant tampering and readjusting with his hands, his fair skin which always looks recently cleaned and maintained yet is offset by things like chewed fingernails or a strain in his eyes when trying to smile through an increasingly worsening problem.
Both due to his self-esteem, upbringing and as a survival mechanism, Daniel’s expressions are almost always neutral and inoffensive, a placid or excited smile as if every day in Cornell were the best day ever, though he does tend to have trouble with eye contact. While on the shorter side for his age, Daniel often appears taller than he is - even coming off gangly at times - due to his thin frame and a drilled-in obsession with good posture, something the school photographers have praised as his rigidity makes him an easy subject to frame even after sometimes hours of set-up.
One might charitably describe Daniel’s fashion style as somewhere adjacent to “geek chic”, a less charitable person would probably say he dresses like an asshole. A universal constant is, of course, his cross necklace while a somewhat close second is a travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer or handkerchiefs in his pockets. Daniel tends towards neutral colours, brown, black, white, beige if he’s feeling “jazzy”. Dressed with presentation and the Pennsylvania climate in mind, he often opts for a pressed and ironed shirt beneath a freshly washed and meticulously defluffed sweater or sweater vest, coupled with a pair of formal light coloured pants (also pressed, natch) and some well-shined oxfords.
An additional reason for layering is to hide the faded but still noticeable welts lining his back on account of his father’s predilection for the belt or the more recent markings from bullies.
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Study hard, be positive and always listen to father, even when he’s been drinking."
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Daniel Mars is far from perfect, yet an undisputed fact is that he has tried to do good, and the world has rarely stopped punishing him for it. Beneath his enthusiasm and smiles, the abuse, isolation and existential confusion have certainly, most definitely not begun to blossom into a crisis of faith from which has only been exacerbated by recent events. Daniel’s preferred outcome would be to find some sense of renewal and meaning in his beliefs, reconcile the delusion of his family and life as wonderful with his growing desire to flee them forever, exorcise the demon currently residing in part of his soul and, most immediately, put a halt on the strange and sacrilegious goings-on in town. Not asking for much!
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Shakes to his morale aside, Daniel was and still is a devout follower of Christianity. The sermons from his father and his own personal studies had helped guide him through much of a tumultuous life initially - even with some contradiction of what the correct standard of living is to be, compared to his immediate role models - but that has become less and less of a steady guide as he’s aged. Nonetheless, Daniel genuinely believes in understanding and kindness to others, judging no one for their troubles or beliefs and always striving to improve as a human being. His positivity, non-confrontational attitude and purity can easily come off as annoying but given that much of his free time is spent doing voluntary work or other charitable endeavors, it’s hard to argue the sincerity.
SECRETS ⫻ The fact that Daniel is more high-strung, depressed and muddled than he’d like to present is not a particularly well-kept secret, however, the fact that he has something of a rebellious streak actually is. Seeing morality often be callously flaunted by others - including those with a religious duty to adhere to it - had caused Daniel to test the limits himself, sneaking a few extra sips of the communion wine, borrowing and then NOT returning a pencil in grade school. Of course, the most notable example of this was a certain party in an abandoned warehouse and the events that followed, something Daniel is not wholly convinced isn’t somehow his fault and all the problems since are some sort of divine retribution.
SEXUALITY ⫻ Daniel is, at least, straight, certainly as far as he knows anyway. A highly religious conservative household is not exactly the best environment for self-discovery.
FEARS ⫻ While always willing to stretch himself to fulfill whatever irrational designs others have upon him, Daniel is wary of a great many things in life, chief among recently is the spirit infesting his body. There are however two things above all else that chill Daniel to his core. The possibility that, despite everything he has been told, God is not there, or worse yet, He does exist and He is displeased.
REPUTATION ⫻ To his peers, Daniel is a gullible, overly-cheery and often sanctimonious loser who is, not unwarrantedly, a frequent target of pranks or bullying. To the older generation of Cornell, Daniel is the sweet - if dimly innocent - son of the town preacher, always giving his time and effort for the community and anyone who seeks his aid. To the local homeless, he is known as “The Soup Kid”. None of these perceptions are strictly wrong.
FLAWS ⫻ Daniel is a pushover, his positivity and earnest desire to be a kind, empathetic and helpful presence in the lives of others often means he’ll take people at the word even when he himself knows that it may not be the best course of action. In spite of his positive qualities, he rarely believes in himself and defers to the instruction of others, authority figures in particular. Magically speaking, this new world of abstraction and reality warping is something his tightly wound brain struggles to comprehend and he particularly dislikes cooperating with or especially handing control over to the apparition he is adjoined with.
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Oh boy! Time for another GREAT day where nothing bad EVER happens!"
Daniel Mars was born to the perfect father - the charismatic and wealthy preacher, Michael Mars - the perfect mother - the beautiful and personable former pageant star, Aimee Mars - and is the elder brother to the perfect little sister - the bright-eyed and pure one year old infant, Jerusha Mars. Therefore, Daniel is to be the perfect son, intelligent, industrious, athletic, virtuous and most importantly of all, God-fearing.
The truth is, as always, less cut and dry. Michael Mars is indeed a charismatic and well-respected man of God, he is also small, petty, violent, prone to drink and forever bubbling with self-conscious anger that his career in the entertainment industry never went anywhere and he is reduced to singing and preaching for bumpkins in a podunk town like Cornell. Aimee Mars is indeed the picture of serenity, she is also perpetually doped up on a cocktail of pills and largely on a plane of her own reality, all the better to enrage her ranting husband. Between this lies Daniel, armed only with faith that has been drilled into him since birth alongside strict rules of conduct and corporal punishment.
Accordingly, Daniel grew into a teenager with a strong work ethic and maladjusted social skills. His optimism and positive qualities came from natural inclination or a rare positive influence in his upbringing, yet his deference to authority and mild indoctrination has him, for the most part, convinced all of it spawns from the good teachings and firm hand of his parents. Bizarrely, this left Daniel ill and well prepared for the almost ritualistic bullying and teasing that followed him as he entered the education system, both too positive to let it ruin him and too used to arbitrary pain to effectively resist or circumvent the harassment in any meaningful way.
Going into his teenage years, as it does for most adolescents, brought about significant change and confusion to this routine however. Daniel came to find less and less comfort in the psalms, parables and drunken ramblings (helpfully provided by his father) that seemed to make sense of the abuse he suffered. Any routes for introspection and growth weren’t exactly clear however, neither of his parents were the picture of self-actualization nor did they have any desire to confront that fact, which led to Daniel mildly being confronted by the fact that, despite any potential good he could feasibly do, there was little to actually like about Cornell Pennsylvania. If this, the beautiful little town he had been told since birth was blessed by God, was so fraught with flaw, what did that say about the rest of the world?
These thoughts and questions festered into “rebellion”, of a sort. Daniel, still innocent and good-intentioned, started testing the boundaries that his parents had told him would lead to damnation or some other grizzly fate just for considering them. Whether that was such heinous actions as handing in a project a few hours before the deadline, not properly tucking in his shirt at service or even not replenishing the soda cans in the fridge after taking the last one! The problem was, none of these acts gave Daniel much in the way of perspective, that is until he heard of a party happening in the old warehouse. A promising opportunity, if a rather nerve-wracking one. Daniel, unsurprisingly, had never been to a party before, perhaps there he could find some kind of clarity in seeing how the other side of Cornell lived, perhaps he could speak with and save some potential lost souls.
Perhaps, Hell itself would spill forth into Cornell and Daniel would run afoul of a particularly clingy demon.
He could not tell you much of the incident, indeed, Daniel had been ready to flee already from the lights, revelry and underaged drinking. When it seemed that damnation had arrived on Earth, Daniel didn’t even realise he was running until he’d already broken through tree clearings in a mad dash to never again bear his eyes on that warehouse and the horrors within. Out in the twilight, screams of his peers echoing behind him, Daniel fell to his knees and tearfully prayed, a mumbling terror-filled plea that lacked meaning or sense as, for the first time, Daniel believed God was not there.
His prayer was answered. Among the manner of comprehension defying demons that tore into Cornell was one that considered itself above its peers, disdaining their senseless cruelty or especially their gleeful sadism, drawn to a particular font of unjust suffering and desire to protect. In an instant, Daniel Mars ceased to exist, and Valor was given form, rushing off towards the slaughter to deliver righteous judgement.
When he finally awoke to daybreak peeking through the trees, Daniel felt his muscles sting after being pushed past their limits, his hands cracking and black with dried blood and the instinctual knowledge that somehow or some way, many, many things had died by his hand.
“WAKE, APOSTLE,” a voice commanded from the depths of Daniel’s soul, “THERE IS WORK TO BE DONE.”
Abstraction ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "JUSTICE IS NOT BLIND, I WITNESS FOR HER."
TYPE ⫻ Aberration (Adjoined)
ABSTRACTION ⫻ Daniel is Adjoined with and can transform into Valor - an apparition whose considerable raw power grows in response to perceived injustice.
ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻ Daniel’s body is now, reluctantly, a vessel for both himself and the “avatar of justice” Valor. By seceding control - or having it wrestled from him - to Valor, Daniel’s body takes the form of and is (largely) piloted by the apparition.
Visually, Valor takes a mostly humanoid shape, resembling a savage mockery of a knight templar. His “armour” appears less as shining steel and closer to blackened rock, capable of withstanding powerful blows and magical attacks. Its helmet - still bearing the distinctive cross shape on the front - is wreathed in a volatile azure flame, housing only shadow and two unblinking, perpetually flaring yellow eyes that peer judgingly from within. Appropriately, Valor cuts an intimidating figure at a muscular six feet and seven inches tall, with a shadow cast by its self-sustaining flames that grows considerably larger and seems to fall upon those Valor judges as especially wicked. When Valor speaks, its sentences are to the point and spoken in a powerful, if tinny baritone.
As it pertains to abilities, Valor is, rather fittingly, as blunt and inflexible as the apparition itself. Valor’s form enables greatly enhanced durability, strength and destructive power, all with the potential to grow in proportion with Valor’s righteous anger at the injustices of another. While limited in terms of adaptability, Valor's one-track instrument of karmic retribution tends to serve it fine, particularly when stoically marching through devastating force to deliver punishment.
MY HANDS FOR WAR AND MY FINGERS TO BATTLE ⫻ Valor prefers brute force over traditional magic, however, it can marry the two disciplines by summoning a temporary weapon to its hands for battle. Bathed in “divine” fire, Valor calls forth a traditional weapon to extend its reach and judgement, with usual suspects being a greatsword, greataxe, lance or, rarely, a shield.
THE WICKED WILL PERISH ⫻ As mentioned, Valor’s noteworthy physical power and endurance will grow even further to match with the perceived evil of whatever the target of its wrath is, the greater the sin the greater the boost in strength. Valor claims that, under the right set of circumstances, its might could grow enough in a moment to unmake the All-Verse itself, something Daniel is more than dubious of.
LIMITS ⫻ While certainly powerful, Valor is very much a one-track mind. As the apparition is mostly in control of the form, it lacks any capacity or desire to consider things like lateral thinking. It's spells and powers help it do one thing and thing only - walk down the target of its immediate ire and rip it to death. While Valor is resistant to spells to some extent, it can be fooled, slowed or beaten by wearing it down, occasionally requiring external help to keep it sticking to a plan when facing anything that has sentient thought.
Additionally, in the event it takes too much damage even for its durability to withstand, it will forcibly revert back to Daniel and be unable to reform for at least a few hours. It will also complain incessantly as it is a sore loser.
MY HANDS FOR WAR AND MY FINGERS TO BATTLE ⫻ The constructs are as capable of inflicting pain as their corporeal origins, however Valor's weapons can only be used once before vanishing in a swift blaze. Additionally, these arms take a second to burn into existence and will vanish if “let go” preemptively by Valor, making their use more situational and tactically oriented for an apparition that notoriously favours one tactic.
THE WICKED WILL PERISH ⫻ Valor - even by the standards of apparitions - is of limited imagination and intricate thought when it pertains to the psychology of others. What is evil and what Valor considers evil are generally in line and it is capable of factoring in context but it abhors mercy and believes perfection comes only from punishment, be that a scolding or a beheading. Additionally, beings that act on instinct such as animalistic paranormal creatures give no boost, as while their actions are perspectively evil, Valor notes, to its chagrin, that punishing them for a transgression it has no rationality to consider would not really work.
WEAKNESSES ⫻ Valor functions as a blunt judgment tool, lacking subtlety or foresight. It responds to perceived injustice rather than strategic planning and can be baited or misled through manipulations of morality. Ambiguity and clever deceptions confuse it, creating vulnerabilities. Its connection to Daniel means any harm or restraint to Daniel affects Valor directly. Excessive damage causes a reversion, leaving Daniel exposed while it recovers, and environmental hazards or attacks on Daniel can interrupt it or cause it to lose control. Its power intensifies with anger and perceived wickedness, but extreme fury can cloud judgment, leading to overreach, miscalculation, or the ignoring of collateral hazards. Strong opponents can exploit its aggression to isolate or flank it. Weapons crafted by Valor are temporary, slow to appear, and disappear if misused or released, creating offensive gaps. Its focus on "evil" means it often doesn't recognize instinct-driven, chaotic, or morally ambiguous foes, allowing attacks that evade provoking its wrath while threatening Daniel. Finally, Valor’s inability to adapt or strategize makes it predictable.
Other ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Amen."
Daniel is naturally averse to swearing or blasphemy. He won’t chide others for doing either but will try to muffle his hearing of it or at least censor it in his mind.
To split the difference on the Cornballs/Cougars debate, I like the idea that the team was initially named the Cornballs then in an effort to be taken more seriously they rebranded, but you can still see the old Cornballer paraphernalia they crappily tried to paste over.
Lucas shuffled out back to the stage, barely any time to prepare himself since his last fight. He choked down a whimper, certain he would not achieve a third streak of dumb luck as the darkness of the backstage area gave way to the lights of the arena.
His expression changed as the audience came into view. Like a buzzing swarm, rising in force as Lucas got closer and closer to the stage.
"LU-CAS! LU-CAS! LU-CAS! LU-CAS!"
They were chanting his name! His actual name! And they weren't even adding "sucks" at the end of it. Despite his trepidation, a small smile spread on Lucas' face. Being the underdog wasn't all bad sometimes. His smile disappeared as the fight had already begun, his opponent flying towards him.
From the stage opposite Lucas, Justin came sprinting, and when he approached his spot, he threw a wide-arced kick trailed by bright blue energy. He hunched down, throwing out a sweeping kick followed by the same energy - spinning in a complete circle as he rose to his feet with an uppercut. Then Justin threw out three punches, the last being a rhythm hammer. He dropped into stance, steam coming out of his arms as he looked at Lucas, then said:
”Well, aren’t you refreshing,” Justin started, ”My last opponents were an alien robot and a superhero.”
Lucas was a flurry of airbrushed colour as he haphazardly threw himself to the floor, thinking Justin’s elaborate entrance was a precursor to his assault rather than merely playing to the amped up crowd. He shuffled awkwardly back to his feet, covered in dust - which didn't help the shabby appearance of his torn shirt from the last fight - thankful that, for the moment, he hadn’t been beaten to a pulp.
"M-my last opponents had a heart attack and a psychic space out, r-respectively." Lucas replied, shakily panting. He spared a glance at Justin's high tech augmentations. They didn't look particularly comfortable, for Justin or whomever they might strike. "D-don't suppose those run on b-batteries?" He asked. Uneven tone making clear it wasn't meant as an insult or even really a joke. Lucas was scrambling internally for some kind of way to win this, not hopeful there'd be another deus ex machina to save him this time.
”... Smartass.” Justin replied with a roll of his eyes. He didn’t drop his stance or seem fazed by this kid. ”Well, your lucky streak ends today, pal. I’m not going easy on you.”
".... BEGIN!"
Justin threw a few jabs at the air (and only the air) as a spectacle as he said, ”Now then…” He started, ”... You going to give im’ a show?”
Lucas, weakly, raised his fists in a "stance" of his own. Justin seemed more concerned with playing to the crowd so far, that was good, right? That was something he could use? He wasn't sure what Justin was thinking, Lucas barely even knew what he was supposed to be thinking. His father was many things, fighting instructor was not among them.
"I'm, uh, gonna..." His eyes darted around. The fireball hadn't went down well against Izzy, most of his fundamentals were trained poorly, he couldn't even walk in a straight line sometimes without wobbling. Could he really "give them a show"? His eyes darted back towards Justin.
Then he ran.
Somehow, this caused another cheer from the crowd, as though all part of the grand strategy from an unorthodox competitor and not the fleeing of a kid scared out of his wits while trying not to get a ring out loss.
The more confident Nomad just bounced off his back foot and propelled himself forward directly at Lucas. However, Justin dropped down and slid across the stage, attempting to knock Lucas’ feet from under him.
Lucas, keenly-developed sense on when he was about to get messed up, felt the pressure in the air as Justin screamed towards him - proving that his cybernetics were indeed not just for show. He dared not look back at what was almost certainly a devastating strike and thus wasn't too sure if Justin was coming in high or low. So, naturally, his mile-a-second danger senses propelled him towards the only course of action he felt avaliable.
Stopping his momentum for a split second, Lucas threw himself off to the side. Thudding and rolling against the ground in a particularly painful landing, but one that still let his motion roll him tgro8gh back to his feet - albeit with a few knocks to the senses. He caught the briefest glance of Justin sliding low, having narrowly avoided shattering his shins or something equally painful.
Justin came to a sliding stop and quickly placed both hands on the ground - he used a blast of sound to put him on his feet. He firmly placed his feet down as he pointed a hand at Lucas and fired a blue ball of energy at Lucas.
Lucas watched the blazing blue ball surge towards him like a deer in headlights. His hands frantically raised, glowing with a blue of their own as he attempted to summon forth a Millergoken. It hadn't been much use against Isabella, but perhaps-
Lucas hands fizzled, failing to call forth much of anything on account of his fear and confusion. All he could do was cross his arms the second before the fireball collided into him with a blast - cloud of smoke swirling around where the boy had just stood. Lucas bounced painfully against the floor at the impact, arms singed and shirt moving from battered to completely ruined. He winced, wishing he didn't have the Miller Gene of being inexplicably resistant to getting knocked out. He looked up at the shadow of Justin, past the dissipating smoke cloud.
”C-C'mon man, c-can't we work s-s-somethin’ out” He pleaded to Justin, he hadn't even wanted to be here in the first place much less this far in.
Justin’s shadow walked through the smoke cloud casually as he rolled up his sleeves, revealing his advanced cybernetics. He looked up at Lucas, then said, ”Then forfeit.” He calmly said. ”I don’t know how you got this far, but you’re not cut out for this Nomad stuff… it’s serious, bub.”
"I-..." Lucas breathed hard. "I can't!" He settled, unsurely. "M-Miller's never quit!"
His hand glowed as he awaited Justin getting closer and closer and closer. When he felt comfortable within range, the terrified kid shot to his feet with a blast of light from his hands. Hoping to blind and disorient, assuming this dude didn't have scanners or something hidden away...
FLASHMAN'S SIGHT STOPPER!
The flash of light blinded Justin… and for a second he could see a horrible image; a brief flash of Abel in a black sling mankini - still wearing his helmet of course - and blood came out of his eyes. He loudly yelped as he covered his eyes.
Lucas' eyes also closed, shouting a decidedly less intimidating "Ahhhhh!" As he charged forward with his arms raised, blinded tightly out of sheer panic. Hoping he was, at the very least, running in the right direction. An onslaught of his - singularly unimpressive - Millergokens flew from his hands and collided into Justin.
WHOLE LOTTA NOTHIN’!
By the time that horrible psychic damage of an attack resided, Lucas was already in Justin’s face, and he didn’t have any time to react before he was launched backwards and crashed into the wall… when the smoke cleared, Justin was on his back in the rubble.
”.... AAAAAAAAAAAND JUSTIN HAGGAR FALTERS BEFORE THE SLEEPING TIIIGER!!”
The announcer shouted.
Lucas’ runaway train-like momentum halted as his eyes fluttered back open. Surrounded by smoke and debris. He gave an unsure glance at his hands, surprised by the destruction he'd wrought.
”Uh.., d-did I win?” He stuttered, uncertainly.
The announcer lady looked between Justin in the rubble, and Lucas. Before sarcastically saying,
“... Yes, really! He won!”
Instead of the stunned disbelief that accompanied his previous two wins, the crowd were already on their feet. As if having never doubted the destructive force of their conquering hero.
"LU-CAS! LU-CAS! LU-CAS! LU-CAS!"
With the slightest smidge of additional confidence, Lucas held his hands up to his (almost certainly ironic) fanbase. His smile didn't quite reach his terrified eyes however and his hasty exit made it clear he anticipated Justin to rise up and beat the shit out of him at any moment.
[centre]BORN TO DIE / WORLD IS A FUCK / 鬼神 Kill Em All 1989 / I am dragMan / 410,757,864,530 DEAD COPS
[i][b]NOTHING FROM NOWHERE I'M NO ONE AT ALL
[/b][/i]
what is yourre favorite tea? i like all kinds[/centre]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center">BORN TO DIE / WORLD IS A FUCK / 鬼神 Kill Em All 1989 / I am dragMan / 410,757,864,530 DEAD COPS<br><br><span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">NOTHING FROM NOWHERE I'M NO ONE AT ALL</span></span><br><br>what is yourre favorite tea? i like all kinds</div><br></div>
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Savo
