@Mintz and I have gone over the profile and have a few things we would like to see change and get clarification on before being able to accept your profile. We would be glad to work with you to figure out a direction you want to go in while keeping it within the world that has been created.
1: We would really appreciate a written description in the Appearance section. I know this might seem redundant but this allows us to get a feel on what your character likes to wear, how they view certain things, if there is anything particularly valuable to the character, and so on. Please look in the character tab for examples if you are unsure.
2: We are confused about the memory-altering of the father in the background. It feels a bit out of place and doesn’t seem necessary. We would like a bit more clarification on it and to see if there is any possible hidden importance on why that section is needed. We aren’t saying no yet but we just would like to know some of the reasoning as it feels abruptly placed in.
3: The Trigger event of this character is kept too vague for our liking. It is vague enough that we literally can't say in good faith that his Power fits the Trigger. If you could provide more detail or let us know if there is some hidden element we are missing that would really be helpful. We are also confused by the fact that it sounds like they ended up in a forest but Redline is a coastal city. We ask this because something that big (dragon form) leaving the city would have been a huge red flag so we need a bit more detail.
4: The Power has a lot going on and with such a vague Trigger it’s hard to know where to really start. We understand that subclasses exist but those are a direct correlation to a power and not so much additions to a power. Also, these powers all together contain almost half the classifications. It doesn’t seem to hold a deep reason other than playing to the dragon aesthetic which is where there is a problem if that is all that you are going for with the subclasses. That being said, some of the powers listed could be powers in their own right which is concerning as we are leaning towards overpowered. We can obviously work together to keep the aesthetic you are going for but fitting more for a Changer.
5: One of the aspects of the powers that we are flat out denying at this time is the ability to change into any animal. This is just not how Changers work as they are mostly bound to a single alternate form.
I hope you understand our points and are open to the corrections we have requested. We look forward to seeing the updates and again, are more than happy to work with you to get this so we can fully accept.
"I can turn into a dragon that eats molten rocks. Your villain monologue is invalid."
Name: Thelonious Kastrati
Alias: Ashen Drake
Nicknames: Thelony
Age: 17
Gender: A boi
Personality: Thelonious is somewhat awkward, with a pretty quiet disposition and a few words. He is noted to be highly enamored by ‘cute, fluffy animals’, and possesses a keen sense of intuition of trustworthiness. Thelonious is pretty protective of those folks he happens to like, though those that he had a bad experience of could expect to be suddenly abandoned in the middle of a fight.
Aside from that, Thelonious is incredibly petty. Ruin his day, or his property? He’ll do the same, but he’ll try to make it a bit worse for whoever pissed on his parade. He is pretty much the embodiment of karma in this regard; actions will come back around, so better be nice to the guy, or else you’ll find yourself randomly inconvenienced by small, but infuriating things. Rule of thumb with Thelonious, then, is that he always returns to sender.
Appearance:
He is 5’3” in height. His pupils are green in color, while his clothing choices usually gravitate around cloaks and other comfortable, flowing garments. Apparently, he sees it as ‘liberating’.
As the Ashen Drake, he becomes around 10 feet in length from nose to tail.
Biography: Thelonious wasn’t from Redline originally. Nor was he originally a citizen of the United States, either. His earliest memories, at least as far as he is willing to admit, traces back to their apartment in the city of Pristina, Kosovo. He was not born as ‘Thelonious’ either, but this detail is no longer within his memories. He only knows himself as his current, modern name; a suspicious detail that could be chalked up to a deliberate memory alteration at an early age. It would seem that his father, who shall be discussed later on, had quite a hand in these missing segments of Thelon’s memories.
Either way, Thelonious doesn’t remember all too much of his home country, as his family left it when he was five years old due to the highly volatile situation that it was in. They first arrived in New York City, and then moved up further north into Maine, where they finally settled down, somewhat. There, they all changed their first names, though they kept the surname that they had back in Kosovo. Now, though, they faced a whole new world.
Thelonious, as he was called since then, had quite a few difficulties with the English language, and was as such bullied for it in school, though that was simply the first reason. Other causes arose, namely because of his lack of aptitude for sports, and other generic reasons.
During that time, however, he was a passive one, and simply took it without telling anyone else, as he knew he couldn't fight back against the likes of them. Not like this. He would just get beaten even more. At the very least, his one and only friend shared in that misery, so Thelonious wasn’t alone in all that. Even so, he secretly harbored plans of bitter revenge. He had coincidentally watched ‘Carrie’, and wondered if that could be done in real life. Parahumans were a thing, after all. He heard that the valedictorian of the high school he was now going to was one of those so-called Thinkers. Maybe he too was a Parahuman that just needed… what was it, a Trigger Event?
Ridiculous, Thelonious thought at first. He had been consistently bullied and mistreated through elementary and high school, why hadn’t he been triggered?
Truth be told, however, he just needed another push. That group of bullies, who had shoved him into the locker the other day, had a chance meeting with him at a random moment of the day, a random walk. There, they did other indescribable things… but that was the last straw that broke the camel’s back, and brought out the beast within.
During all this time, a voice had been gnawing into the back of his mind. A dark side, one that wanted to take out all that rage and frustration towards those that caused it. And so it was unleashed.
Details after that are scant, but apparently, several high schoolers were very nearly devoured by a parahuman in the form of a dragon, its rage stayed in time by a silent conscience. It flew away to skulk in the forest, but the person that had been its source was identified by the PRT, and his parents were contacted by that same organization, as an investigation of those events found out what had happened in the background. As for the former bullies, their minds were later found to be hollowed out, turned into blank slates. Who did that is still a mystery to this day, though PRT thinks it is Thelonious’ dad, a powerful but otherwise passive telepath that lives a normal life.
Thelonious, meanwhile, was sent to the Wards Program. If he is to be a functioning member of society, he has to go through all this. Well, anything’s better than what he had now.
Powers:
Draconic Transformation (Breaker/Changer 6; ): He is able to transform into a draconic creature at will, somewhat reminiscent of those from European myth. Theoretically, he may assume any animalistic form he wishes, but this appearance has been the norm for so long that it may as well be the only one, since it has been deeply imprinted into his mind. The resultant form measures at around ten feet in length, with descriptions ranging from it having gray scales, stark white eyes, and long fangs, to reddish scales and amber eyes. It seems that the exterior appearance often varies, though the general shape remains consistent. In this state, the rest of his abilities become available. The Ashen Drake, as it is called, is able to swallow someone whole; this simply holds them inside for vomiting later on, as the creature does not possess a digestive tract, rather having a single cavity for storage. It also possesses razor sharp claws and teeth, and its scales are highly resistant to small arms fire. However, hitting the same spot repeatedly is sure to penetrate and cause damage.
He is able to exit this form whenever he wishes as long as anything still remaining within the form’s stomach is expelled, and he retains all clothing and items that he had beforehand.
Flight (Mover 5): Upon transformation, Thelonious is able to take flight with the flight speed of a helicopter.
Pyroclastics (Blaster/Shaker 6): Upon assuming a different form, Thelonious is able to turn nearby rock within 5 feet into molten lava. He is able to telekinetically manipulate lava, and he can also devour it in order to spit it out later on, with a range of 20 feet.
A side-effect of this ability is that he is immune to damage from fire and heat, whether or not transformed.
Skills: When he was still unpowered, Thelonious was noted to be a great painter. Other: no girlfriend since birth.
Alfred was back to being human now, squinting as he felt the grass on his hand, savouring the sensation of finally being able to touch grass for the first time in a year. The dull grey walls of the cell had been tiresome to look at; there was no shining, no brightness in there, save perhaps for the crimson hue of the alalarms that resounded whenever a prisoner had done something heinous or somehow got loose of their restraints. The only other thing of interest within tose walls were the books that he was allowed to read in his spare time as a reward for good behaviour, though it is doubtful that anyone still thought that the whole affair of being nice was a sincere thing. It would be thought of as a facade to get the good stuff (as good can go in a prison for eldritch creatures) whilst being incarcerated.
Without warning, however, the fabric of space buckled yet again. A portal shimmered open in front of Alfred. He was, however, unsurprised by this: this was the power of one of the other phoenixes, of the one that embodied the concept of space itself.
A winged creature stepped through the portal. Its appearance glittered with twinkling starlight, the whole body taking on the form of a starry night sky. It was as if someone painted a galaxy on a bird, only that this was bird was a Phoenix, the greatest of its kind. Its eyes were of blue starfire, and a golden crown with gems in the shape of suns was set upon its head.
On its sides strode two more phoenixes; the one on the left was a creature of gears and digital technology, a strange amalgamation of both that strutted with an air of vanity. The other was a being of shadow, almost looking like a crow if it had red glowing eyes and a black mist constantly pouring out of every pore in its skin.
"Ah, it's them..." Alfred, or rather, the Frostbite turned towards the rest of the group of prison escapees, motioning towards what seemed to be members of his family. The apparent phoenixes of space, technology, and shadows looked upon him with what could be described as a pleasant expression, though they regarded the others with indifference.
"Well, guys. These are my kin. They call themselves-"
"I am the Dominus Astra," the phoenix of space answered for him in a deep, sibilant tone. "These are the Machine God and the Sinister One. Cheeky names, I know, but the superheroes have worse. Captain Planet, defender of Rhode Island my ass..."
The Machine God, as the phoenix of technology came to be called, strutted forward, scanning the group. "So, eh, we have a demon, a sorcerer, a demonic child, several mutants, and then our darling brother. My, what kind of company did you get yourself into when you made those Cabalites each a dick? Hah! Well, we better get going. I have to show you the latest Tiktok, brother..."
The Siniser One grumbled. It was a creature of few words.
"So, I guess we shall meet sometime again, eh?" Alfred answered as he began the process of transformation once again. "Cheers, then."
Satisfied, Kailani looked around the elevator to take in all those congregated there. Finally, she settled to looking at Ameliya and, in a morbid echo of their interaction that very morning, grinned wider and pointed to her bloodied mouth.
”I’ve had so much food!”
Frostbite looked at the little girl in disbelief. It hadn't really dawned upon him just how much human flesh that the creature had shoved down its never-ending gullet until near the end of their initial scuffle with the guards in the cafeteria. They had attempted to stop the rampage of the Devourer with a testudo formation of riot shields, only for the creature to swat them aside and eat them up like chicken nuggets in a Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet. Why did they even think that would work? Surely they should have... something better? Maybe this was because they were caught in surprise by the sudden escape attempt?
Either way, the creature of ice gazed upon Kailani with that same piercing stare, a look so powerful it might as well go right through someone. Its red eyes blinked, and a low sigh escaped from its icy mouth.
"Perhaps you can find employment in a landfield," the Phoenix muttered in a volume nearly audible only to himself, the usual quiet and sombre voice turning a bit sour at this time. It wasn't because it was irritated or annoyed at the alien. It was more like genuine fear of just how much damage the alien creature could do. It was frankly terrifying, and he shuddered to think about what kind of chaos would ensue if more of its kind rain down on Earth.
"Are you... ever able to get full?" Frostbite asked, sounding concerned. "At this rate, I would think you're a creature that has a literal black hole as a stomach. Could be the only thing that explains you can fit all that... food in such a smaller form. I'm amazed."
The meeting he had with Valeria Richards and Ilyanna Rasputin had gone without much incident. He now knew that one of the Ultimates was, in fact, a mole for some kind of resistance that sought to return this world to the way it was during the days of the first heroes. That, he could respects; Baldur even contemplated aiding them, but his own resources were rather tight right now. All he still had after the forty years that passed after the Dark Phoenix crisis was whatever was inside the Angstrom Deep Vault when he and his followers went into stasis sleep. The rest was either obliterated by the Dark Phoenix and subsequent alien invasions, or was nationalized by the Swedish government, and then by the United Empire as he had been presumed dead along with the rest of the Angstroms. It would have been a good idea to leave it to someone trustworthy, but alas... what is the point of making a will if the world was going to end?
After a few minutes of walking, Baldur finally arrived on his destination. It was nearly unmarked, a place marked only by a lone lamppost standing in the middle of the great forest. It wasn't the lamppost he was interested in, though. It was what is under it.
Baldur knelt down, and clicked several buttons on the base of the lamppost. A small hiss emanated from the post... and a door emerged from the forest floor, with another set of buttons for typing in the access code.
"Hello sir, you're back. You found what you were looking for?"
"Yeah, Lukas." Baldur handed Lukas, one of his chief scientists and the guy that helped him replicate Hank Pym's shrinking technology, a small bag containing at least a dozen stasis orbs, all of which had highly advanced technologies kept in suspended animation. "I met a few people on the way, though."
"Oh?" Lukas' interest was piqued. "Which ones?"
"Well," Baldur shrugged. "There was Valeria Richards."
"One of the Ultimates? How did it go? Odd that you haven't sustained any battle damage-"
"She's friendly, don't worry about it," Baldur stepped off from the aptly named Warspite armor, leaving his normal clothes on. "Apparently there is a resistance against the United Empire, and she's part of them. At least, that was the vibe I got. She mentioned that 'some of us are fighting for a better day'. If that isn't a Rebel Alliance, against the empire I don't know what is."
Lukas rolled his eyes at the Star Wars reference. "Well, I guess that's a good thing. But you have to remember that in this bunker, we have 300 people that we have to protect, especially the mutants like myself."
"I know... You know I'll never let anything happen to you."
"Thank you sir."
"Just call me Baldur, it's not like we're really a corporation anymore."
Lukas shrugged, his expression totally unsurprised. "Okay, whatever. Baldur. Uh. Baldur? You okay?"
Baldur stared into the nothingness, as if he was daydreaming. Try as he might, but Lukas wouldn't be able to call his attention. Not while Baldur was seeing visions of the future, a voice similar to his own screeching into his mind.
He witnessed the end of the world, of civilization as we knew it. Nuclear weapons rained down upon the cities of humanity, killing billions upon billions. Legions of Sentinels stood in serried ranks, while Oscorp and Stark drones were scouring the ruins in search of survivors that might have evaded the radioactive blasts that made much of the planet uninhabitable. Mutantkind and humanity stood united, but what could they do against such a horrifying intelligence, a cold, calculating artificial mind that sought to wipe out all life not just on this world, but in the whole known universe.
Strangely enough, Angstrom Defense Drones were not in the visions of the ruins of Earth. Perhaps this was because they were of older make, linked only through human minds? Maybe they were immune to the depredations of an evil AI?
"Seek out the others, seek out the Mutant Underground. You must prepare. The United Empire is simply a pawn of KIVA. Destroy KIVA before she ends this world!"
"Sir!" Baldur was shook to wakefulness by Lukas, who looked quite worried. "You good, Baldy?"
Had he not gotten a vision of the future, he would have irritably commented on how he had a full head of hair, but Baldur was too shaken to care about the nickname. "I have to go."
"What? You just got here-"
"Take care of everyone," Baldur instructed as he stepped back into the armor and scooped several stasis orbs from a nearby shelf. "I'll be back soon."
She was no killer, she was not like the others. The people that Abby killed were all accidents. But then again she was still a murderer, even if it was an accident she still took a person’s life. Running over towards the elevator, once the way was clear by her group. ”We wait for the others, I’m not gonna leave anyone behind.” She said to Körbl, holding the door for the others to join her.
Frostbite quickly flew in from the hallway, his path trailing with a cold aftermath of frost and snow. The Phoenix's eyes didn't blink at the grisly sights to both his left and right; perhaps this is because he was a creature of such primordial age, existing since before civilization had even risen in the earliest cradles of humanity. Short lived human lives were just numbers to it by now, the comprehension of the Frostbite and its brethren far beyond the ken of mere mortals. However, with those it chooses, to the men and women that he and the rest of the kind dare bind themselves to, they achieve an eternal mutual understanding, an intertwining of thoughts and emotions so deep that they could be said to be one being with two minds. The rest of those that stood in the way of the Frost Phoenix's freedom, however, will be made into history, though their names will be forgotten in the next centuries.
"Before you ask, no, I'm not reverting. Not yet," Frostbite simply said as he folded his cold wings closer to his icy body the same way any other bird would. "Now where are the rest? If a league of superheroes come here before we can scatter into the four winds of the Earth, we're screwed."
...plus we've got Frost on telepathic defense keeping us extra guarded for the time being that's the closest we'll get to absolute safety in the big apple. But we need to maintain a low profile especially with the beat down you gave Venom & all the Sentinels they got deployed." Scott concluded as Milo took a sharp right and pulled into the cargo bay of the safehouse getting the team home safely.
Ganni quietly got down from the hovercar, pulling the gas mask from his head. He wasn't looking his best today, especially after the nerve wracking chase that they just had with Sentinels and Ultimates. He was always told that they had to keep a low profile, lay low, ensure that the Mutant Response Division and their big wigs in the Ultimates were looking at the other way when the Underground was doing something important. This altercation, however, certainly wasn't subtle. It was the complete opposite of subtle. It was loud, and told the world that mutants were still out there, free of the damning laws that the United Empire had enforced upon the entire planet. And that a simple mutant freak was able to defeat Venom in single combat.
"Ganni, hey." Ganymede turned towards a familiar voice, a sister from another mother. It was Ophelia, another mutant whose power was small scale precognition. She probably already knew he and the team were going to be here five seconds prior to their arrival, but anyway, she was by no means a fighter.
"What did you do this time?" Ophelia asked, giving Ganni a tight hug as she was quite worried. "The news is buzzing about Venom being blasted with quite a few collateral deaths along the way. Oh, and the Sentinels were chasing you around, too?"
"Don't worry about it," Ganni shrugged, walking alongside her towards the safehouse itself. "Milo wrecked Venom's face. Speaking of which..."
The now maskless Ganni wheeled around and waved at Milo, a frown visible. "Don't do that again," he hissed at the much taller Mutant. "We know that Venom is vulnerable to fire, but you just had to give the black goo's a test drive before blasting it with fire? I just-, ugh. We dawdled for a little too long there, if you know what I mean."
Ophelia whispered at Milo, not bothering to attempt hiding what she was saying from Ganni. "He's worried about your safety."
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