Eventua

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Mansa; Everett Williams

Character you have created: Everett Williams

Alias: Mansa

Speech Color: #9f7d2e - Gentle Gold

Character Alignment: Wishes to be a Hero; Much more prone to Walking the Line.

Identity: He tries to keep his real identity hidden, but was forced to flee the UK when exposed by the Metropolitan Police as part of a larger manhunt involving a string of murders in London that perfectly framed him as the main suspect. The one or two people he had told about his powers have since been taken into custody and their situation is unknown - he has no allies left.

Character Personality: A quiet and uncertain young man, Everett was determined in his school years to keep a low profile, knuckle down and study. He had few friends due to his anxiety and lack of conviction regarding what he wanted out of life in the long-term, in a world ruled by luck - after all, it seemed like those with all of the power had either been born into it, were lucky enough to receive it from circumstance and mystery, or had taken it from others by force and cruelty.

He is generally bad at maintaining eye contact and gets nervous in high pressure environments, but when taking on the persona of 'Mansa', he has found it easier to get 'into character' and reveals an inner confidence that tends to throw those who know him well off guard. He has his suspicions that the persona of 'Mansa' somehow links him to the Golden Spider from his dreams, and that leaves him nervous about the possibility that his confidence and cunning are not really 'his' - this, along with the constant fear of being killed, caught or being forced to his powers to harm others leaves him nervous and pessimistic about the future and his role in the world.

Uniform/costume: N/A; Everett did briefly consider the idea of trying to create his own costume based on sketches he'd drawn as a kid, but quickly realized that his powers were better used from a distance or while blending into a crowd.

In his daily life Everett has no particular 'style', but especially since being on the run he mainly just wears practical, cheap clothing - jeans, bland T-shirts or button-up shirts and simple padded coats or hoodies. When he can get away with it though, he prefers to wear tight, smart brown trousers and elegant, long-sleeved shirts, usually with flower or abstract patterns. When possible, he also wears thick or woolly gloves to limit his powers from accidentally triggering if he gets nervous.

Origin Info/Details: Born to Ghanian parents shortly after they moved to London, Everett often felt uncertain of his place in the world growing up. His parents loved him and his older brother Thursday a great deal, but there was a constant sense of being torn between two very different worlds. He seems to have faded into the background, especially when his younger brother was born and he was hit extremely hard with middle child syndrome.

Never-the-less, there was one small certainty throughout everything - the world was unfair, deeply so, and his family seemed to suffer the brunt of it. In a world of heroes, London - and the wider UK in general - had famously low numbers of heroes relative to its population, and a growing lack of confidence in the work of ordinary police had gradually been eroding their public support; when a series of attacks by the villain Scattershot left dozens dead in the London Underground, the UK government began to implement much more... severe measures, for tackling crime. The new funding and paranoia, however, were a noxious mix that soon helped breed corruption and personal vendettas at the highest level.

In a society rife with propaganda and growing tyranny, Everett grew up increasingly pessimistic about the world, feeling he had to do something - perhaps through studying hard and getting a good education? Perhaps through politics? Perhaps through charity? - to make it better, but every system he turned to had inevitably failed the common people.

And then, when his family had hit rock bottom, he had a dream. A tiny golden spider, drifting in the darkness from a single golden strand.

"The world is wounded, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then take the Light of the Earth, and bind those wounds."

He awoke to something powerful, deep within his bones. On some deep, instinctive level, he knew what the spider had given him - and when his thoughts turned out to be based in truth, that he now held a power able to hold the balance of prosperity and ruin, life and death, with a snap of his fingers...

He knew that he had to do something. With such great power, there was now a great responsibility - to change the world forever.

Hero Type: Elemental/Mystic

Power Level: Usually an A, but Everett could potentially achieve B or even C level with sufficient preparation, support and set up.

Powers: Everett possesses something called the 'Light of the Earth', the ability to instantly turn any inorganic matter he wishes into gold with a snap of his fingers. This can theoretically work on objects of almost any size or complexity, though he's never tried anything larger than a full three piece suit or anything more complex than an iPhone. This is tremendously powerful, but abides by very specific limitations that he strictly cannot break, as follows:
--- Line of Sight: Everett must be able to see the matter he is 'converting' clearly enough that he can perceive it as 'that thing' - this means his effective range is much greater so long as he wears his glasses, but it does not work through electronic devices.
--- No Magic Mass for Me: The targets of Everett's power do not magically 'gain mass' - gold is a heavy metal with a high particle density to its atoms, so most materials and objects will essentially 'compress' as they are converted, the atoms quietly but suddenly 'melting together'. Thus, the vast majority of targets will quite literally shrink or even 'melt' as the individual chemical elements making up the target slowly shrink and push together into a single mass of gold. Perfect golden statues these are not.
----- Despite this change in atomic structure, there is no actual release of energy from such a change - as far as Everett or anyone else is aware, he doesn't have the power to create nuclear fission on a whim or to turn objects into miniature nuclear bombs.
--- Snap of the Fingers: Everett must snap his fingers to trigger the ability - he's attempted to use his power without the finger snap, and consistently nothing happens. There's no specific pose or other action required mind you, but he usually likes to be dramatic about it when he can get away with it. And yes, this does mean he's basically powerless if his fingers or hands are broken.
--- No Focus Necessary: Despite this, Everett doesn't need to actively 'concentrate' to use his power - so long as he's looking at something, he can snap his fingers to trigger it instantly. The problem is that without focusing on the 'target' in question, the effect will simply latch onto whatever 'target' he's dwelling on at the time - a lapse in judgement of this sort is the straw that broke the camel's back and led to him being tracked down by the UK authorities, forcing him on the run.
----- That said, concentration does also provide him greater control - with proper focus, he can 'delay' the effect, starting the process of turning something to gold on a sort of 'timer' where it slowly turns to gold from the outside in. The longest he was able to delay such a target was forty seconds before his concentration was broken by the arrival of police and the conversion immediately finished.
--- Golden Retriever: Technically not a limitation but rather a passive secondary power that he gained simultaneously, he appears to be able to sense the presence of gold around him in a small area, about 20 feet at the furthest. This is described as a 'tingling' that rises up his limbs. The sensation is stronger towards gold that he himself has 'created', and the range extends as far as 50 feet at his last calculation.

As a secondary note, something Everett isn't yet certain of is if there is a way for him to reverse the transformation. A comment the golden spider made to him once ("One who changes the world can often change it back") has led him to believe that he could, but he's not yet been able to successfully do so.

Attributes (Select one at each category):

Height: 6"2.
Weight: 81 kilos.
Strength Level: Normal Human.
Speed/Reaction Timing Level: Normal Human.
Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: Normal Human.
Agility: Normal Human.
Intelligence: Slightly above average.
Fighting Skill: Untrained.
Resources: Minimal, but hypothetically could become Extreme given sufficient secrecy/protection and resources to work with.

Weaknesses: Primarily, his main weakness is that, without his power he's just a weedy, physically frail nerd caught between anxiety and a theoretical god-complex that worries those who know of him. Nothing about him is particularly noteworthy, and so if anything were to happen to his hands, or he was caught off guard?

Well, he wouldn't exactly last long.

Supporting Characters: IN PROGRESS

--- Thursday Williams: His older brother, a well-adjusted and law-abiding man who he used to confide in about everything. Thursday was ultimately the one who reported him after he accidentally killed a local business man.
--- The Golden Spider: A mysterious entity that appeared in his dreams and seems to have given him his powers. It appears occasionally to offer cryptic advice, but he cannot seem to question its quiet confidence. He fears that the slight changes in his personality when he gets 'In-Character' as Mansa may actually be the influence or control of the Spider.
--- Velu Anand: A successful business-man and old family friend with something of a rebellious streak from his younger days, he was disgusted at Jeremy's betrayal and has helped provide Everett safe and secret passage out of the UK. "Family first," he always says.

Face Claim: Lakeith Stanfield

Sample Post

Sample Post:

Deep beneath that vast steel cage, he could feel the lifeblood of the world, vast and alien and terrifying. His stomach struggled to rest, the world still spinning - it occurred to him that this was not technically the first time he'd been on a boat. Last time he'd journeyed across the world for a new home, he'd been a zygote, the barest trace of a nothing...

Would I be here if they'd stayed? Or would this... purpose, have only been stronger?

The troubles of Britain were his catalyst, after all. Would he still be the same person if they'd stayed? Would he still even be Everett? Or perhaps he would have been Saturday, just like his grandfather?

No fear, whispered the spider, his focus wandering, adrift in the twilight that surrounded every aspect of the voyage, No worries.

...

He was awoken from his hazy half dreams by a tap on his shoulder. The sound of the tense fingers surrounding and rippling the polyester of his coat was almost as noticeable to him as the firm but gentle grip.

"Everett, we are arriving soon. How are you?"

He smiled, a soft and distant smile as he turned to the last of those who could be called his allies, and the brown suitcase that he'd placed onto the ground. An old friend - the oldest.

"I'm... I'm okay. Just... tired. Thinking a lot. Thanks again for all of this though, Velu."

"Oh, no fear boy. You were always good, a good boy, and if Allu was here, I think he'd have been right alongside you. What's become of this country..."

The gentle crevices of Velu's face went taut as he spat on the ground, sneering at the spot just like he'd sneered at the TV the day Everett had come to him for help. Everett couldn't help but smile a little at that - to see the polite, well-mannered business man display his disgust so straight.

They stood in the soft darkness of the ship's hold for some time. Honestly, time had felt less and less meaningful a concept those last few days - what did it matter, when the chase was eternal?

Velu's brown eyes went wide, and he patted down the pockets of his well-tailored brown suit. Then, with a slight sigh of relief, he reached into the inner pocket and pulled out a small silver stop-watch. He held Everett's hand tightly, resting it in his palm.

"Take it, as a memento. The time is always changing, always ticking, but it never stops going. That watch has been with me for four generations, and well... you take it now, okay?"

Everett stepped back, his feet suddenly uneasy.

"But, you... you've already done so much, I don't, I-"

"Just take it, alright? I only ask that you don't turn it into gold. The memories of my family are more precious than that. It's never needed to be retuned, and if you break that record..."

He smiled again, though something in his eyes - the shimmer and echo of a tear? - told Everett he was serious.

"... then my ghost, my father's ghost, and my grandfather's ghost will haunt you from across the Atlantic. You'll never be able to escape!"

Everett nodded, wiping his brow with his right hand in as exaggerated way as he could muster, given the circumstances.

"The ghosts of Anand. Like... the saddest version of a Christmas Carol ever, with curry?"

"Hah, sad? Angry, more like! And you'd wish my wife's cooking was there!"

They laughed, and cried, and hugged - for the first time in a long, long while, Everett didn't feel so awkward about it.

...

An hour later, and Everett walked into the early evening darkness, the 'helper' Velu had hired to get him away from the dockyards. The big apple, the so-called greatest city on Earth, awaited him. He had two thousand dollars, the clothes on his back, a suitcase full of memories.

On the horizon behind him, there stood a flame of liberty, a bearer of justice. In this world of chaos and lies, where everything could change like a snap of the fingers...

The clock kept ticking.

The Helium Frightful

AH! D:

Um, so.

Mmm.

It occurs to me I haven't been keeping up with this RP very well (read: at all) and I'm not sure if it's appropriate for me to drop out completely or awkwardly try to rejoin.

I'm really sorry about letting it go by this long.

The Helium Frightful

My bad! D:

I was working on one but have been struggling with motivation and writer's block.

The Helium Frightful

"In this week's chapter of the hit new shonen manga 'Melodramatic Mushrooms: I Can't Believe The Cake Is Pondering Its' Place In The Universe', would-be protagonist Krita is on the brink of defeat. Will Whispering Day-San catch up to him and force him to ponder his place in the universe??"

The Helium Frightful

Were Krita's strange cake-heart not pounding in his chest like so much a frightened rat, perhaps he would've paused to think more on the situation. The red-hot potato-battery's surprising potency stinging his hands and chest, and with hindsight - were he to be so lucky as to have some - would probably have realized quite so many flaws with his actions.

Bobblings were not known for the quantity of their guts, but something could at times be said for the quality of them.

Don't look back, Krita mustn't look back - get the battery to Golby.

All around him the world itself seemed to be collapsing, but with surprising speed he could tell he was making progress, the shouts of the stranger in the chaos ringing out louder and louder. There, up ahead, a figure clad in red - and up the hill, a familiar if distant image, straight from the HOBO, was making its way to the same spot.

With the hope in his heart, he allowed himself to waver, just for a second, and turned his head.

He hadn't made a mistake so severe in a long time.

There, looming behind him, was the rapid march of the monstrous insect from before, no doubt having spotted a quick and easy snack. Behind it and to the side was another giant, a feline figure, crying out after the 'big fella', with something resembling hunger on her face. And as she shouted her warnings, far above them the sight of the god-snake loomed terrible and angry with hunger...

Well, admittedly, most giants - of all stripes and relative giant-ness - looked perpetually hungry. It seemed to be a curse of sorts. This was not surprising, and in a way was comforting. He hadn't made this daring run with the idea that he had a high chance of survival...

But in the midst of turning his head, he saw the frightful sight. As the waddling thing awkwardly stumbled to safety, a third giant - followed by some sort of ominous rock, quite a bit more ominous than the ordinary, gravity-affected rocks that were currently crashing down around them all. This third giant, otherwise unassuming by giant standards, was slowly but steadily pursuing the waddling thing.

And it was catching up.

His eyes widened as his chest burned tighter, the smell of burning mushroom meat slowly wafting behind him.

"What should... what should Krita do?? Krita did this for Krita's community, but-"

...

Something smaller and more inconspicuous than a Bobbling, something faint, fell out from under his stump-foot, and his weight - light as it was - gave out. The potato battery 'flew' through the air with all the force of a small damp rag, hitting the ground with the gentlest of thumps and rolling away from him towards the giant in red.

He himself tumbled awkwardly to the side like some sort of loose desert weed, a chunk of hefty rubble plummeting down to land with a crash between himself and the battery.

As his consciousness bounced throughout his form, he desperately watched the steady, imminent demise of everything he'd built.

The Helium Frightful

Krita is the animu cake-goblin we all deserve.

Watch him dodge Stone's mouth Attack on Titan style.

The Helium Frightful

The formation of a plan began to crack, the earth itself cutting through Krita's thoughts as the awakened beast roared and the world seemed to tumble out of control far quicker than he'd hoped for.

The earth sundered, the pillars folding and collapsing, the sun itself seemingly overwhelmed as the great serpent rose and the folding of the shadows forced the peaceful Dozing to awaken with an ancient, alien fury. The waddling thing, suddenly brought to its senses and panicking, side-stepped and awkwardly dodged its way around the chaos.

The Bobblings clung for dear life, a few of their kind with weaker arms falling and being crushed with equal certainty, the ground becoming stained with the muck of splattered eggs.

But Krita did not cower. Krita did not allow his fear to cloud his judgement, the ringing in his cap not preventing his will, his spirit, from finding the pace of the situation. Eyes narrowing, he watched as the stranger with a triangle for a face charged down the incline, screaming something about 'turning it on'.

Another voice, nearly lost amongst the mayhem, cried out for batteries. 'Anything that can hold electricity'?

"Golby the Biggs?"

He rubbed his grabbers together, the wind rushing through his scarf as he grabbed hold of the railing with his left hand, the waddling thing's panicked rampage proving more and more unstable with every step. The other giants, now reacting and scattering in their own ways to the unfolding chaos, were clearly distracted.

Was this his moment?

He sent a brief call through the community, a chirp that rang through the crowded waddling thing. As one the community nodded, rummaging through the chaos of the waddling thing, through their rooms and chambers.

"Come on, gibbit! Krita needs the Shocking Thing!"

"Right-o, right-o...!" the others mumbled in unison.

With a sudden heave, the tiny battery - essentially a bright-red potato hooked up to a light-bulb - flew through the air. Krita smiled, a quick thumbs up to his family, and as with one breath he leapt from the railing, snatching the battery and cushioning it against himself, hitting the ground with a soft and inaudible roll. Like a freshly baked muffin dropped at a picnic he came to a steady rest, and then, with only enough hesitation to pose dramatically, he charged into the chaos.

Agility was not his strong suit, but any giant could tell you that a Bobbling on a mission was a Bobbling in a hurry. With the spirit of a hero, Krita's stumpy legs carried his soft, delicious body across the field, dodging and weaving around the plummeting chaos.

The Bobblings would hold fast in his absence, the command simple - escape, and survive. Krita, No-Excuses-For-Realsies would give his life to stop this madness if need be.

...

First he just had to figure out what needed to be turned on.

The Helium Frightful

I'm planning to write up my next post either tomorrow or Thursday

Assuming there's no other posts between now and then, it's time for Krita to do what Krita does best

The Helium Frightful

POSTED.

Also apologies to @Girlie1Bomba that Krita failed to notice Lucky, he's *way* too distracted by the Whispered Day who stands out way more as 'a big scary dumb thing that will probably eat us all and wouldn't even know we taste bad??'

That said, I'm curious how good everyone else's sense of smell is? Bobblings 'special speech' is very difficult for 'biggs' to learn because it's not vocal and therefore does not make a good basis for abstract communication with non-Bobblings. That said, someone could easily 'get the feel' of what it means or implies with enough exposure.

...

[EDIT] Also @Mokley, is there a local community of Bobblings in Dozing? I would *assume* so since it's a relatively peaceful and out of the way spot.

The Helium Frightful

The breeze was calming and carefree against the light of the sun, and for just a moment, Krita wondered if he could finish his quest right then and there. Dozing was a calm and rest-easy sort of place after all, a ruin to the failure of giants everywhere, and it put a soft grin on Krita's face.

Plenty of grass for the wandering beast that Krita's community had named their waddling thing, and soft soil for digging new holes. Everyone knew holes were the secret to a strong community, because within them was both the power of death and life. With each thunderous step through this happily broken place, Krita's mind was torn.

"Settle here? Keep going? Krita's community really smells bad, mmmmmm...! But Golby the Biggs is expecting Bobblings for his crew?? Krita is many things, but Krita isn't rude or dishonest, that would be just the worst."

The chittering smell of Krita's right-hand Bobbling, who Krita liked to call Right-Hand Bobbling for that exact reason, caught the leader off-guard. He hopped forwards, just a little, his stumpy beige limbs making a soft 'patter' against the metal flooring the community had installed over their carrier's head. With a sneer he carefully tried to save face, spinning around on the spot in such a way that the red scarf he always wore began to blow in the breeze (something Golby had once told him via the community's HOBO would make him look heroic and kingly).

Right-Hand Bobbling made a soft 'ooh' noise, and Krita was pleased.

"Krita the Best Boss Ever, No-Excuses-For-Realsies, the watchers have been smelling bad. It's upsetting the eggs. Two eggs just wilted."

Krita paused in his dramatic pose, the temporary halo caused by his especially shiny cap vanishing as he looked at Right-Hand right in the eyes. Right-Hand awkwardly shuffled backwards, skinny grabbers held close to his cylinder of a torso.

He never liked giving Krita bad news, because it always made Krita sad.

"Krita thought Krita told the nesters to be careful where nesters put the eggs? Krita picked the watchers for watching because watching means smelling bad so Krita's community don't get eaten even once more than needed? The eggs are important, Right-Hand! Krita's community needs to look after the eggs!"

"Right-Hand knows it No-Excuses-For-Realsies, but Krita's community has been walking for days with no sign of Golby the Biggs and the promised ship, thanks?? Too much stress and no room on the waddling thing so there's too many eggs and too many Bobblings and it smells really bad everywhere, No-Excuses-For-Realsies! All the community is asking for is a week off, so maybe Krita can maybe just tell Golby the Biggs to build the crew another time, thanks?? Please, No-Excuses-For-Realsies...?"

Krita tapped his chin, a handsome flap of meat that accentuated his charmingly spherical frog-face. With scarf billowing in the mild breeze, he had to confess that Right-Hand Bobbling had a point (though he would never admit it out loud).

They had been travelling non-stop for days, and the feedback from the rest of the community had been exceptionally less-positive than normal. Rations were running low, the rate of eggs eventually becoming egged was way too high, and with only one carrot left for their ride there were fears that they'd be forced to veer wildly off-course if it had to go looking for its own food.

That or walk, and Krita had grown used to striding across the world on a giant machine-beast of his own discovery, even if they had stolen it using their carrots. Which they had also stolen.

All in all, it was an awful situation, and Dozing was such a lovely place to doze...

But then Krita smelt it. Saw it. Felt it.

What had panicked the watchers, and what everyone else would be panicking about as well as soon as they could distinguish the scent amidst the noise. Just out of view besides his perch atop the waddling thing, just beyond a particularly conveniently shaped piece of rock that Krita would probably have put down to divine intervention if Bobblings were inclined to believe in gods beyond their own mind-blowing capacity for following simple instructions that made them the true inheritors of the world.

"REST THE WADDLING THING! REST IT, SO SAYS KRITA!" he screamed in the quiet language of his kind, and the entire community stopped their chattering and stinking with immediate effect. To a non-Bobbling, of course, the sound would be practically inaudible from any notable distance, but to the Bobblings it was really quite stunning.

The carrot team reared the carrot, and with awkward disappointment they failed to stop their carriage from effortlessly snatching it up to eat. It tended not to walk around for a while when it ate, though, so Krita was thankful.

He had bought them time, and maybe that would be enough to save their lives.

For there, just out of sight of the main body of the community's noble steed, in a wide open clearing, stood a pair of terrible giants. Krita desperately held in his breath, afraid of even daring to move for fear that they might be exposed.

"What... what is it Krita?"

"Right-Hand Bobbling, it's the biggest and most monstrous biggs any Bobbling has ever seen, like an ugly bug thing, except it probably wouldn't even taste good?? Krita is happy Krita discovered it and also Krita is preparing two dramatic speeches, one in case the waddling thing spends enough time eating for Krita to think of a clever and daring plan or Golby the Biggs shows up."

Right-Hand gulped, grabbers shaking.

"And, No-Excuses-For-Realsies, the other one?"

"Well, Right-Hand, Krita needs Right-Hand to pass on the message for Krita's community to prepare to run or burrow for every single life and egg as quietly as possible, because if the big dumb waddling thing does something big and dumb and loud or Krita's community does something not big but also dumb and loud, Krita's speech will be about how brave and dumb and fun every Bobbling was and hopes that the survivors find a new king who is the Second Best Boss Ever, No-Excuses-For-Realsies, to go and make the special Bobbling Kingdom in the special peaceful place, just like Krita promised, okay?"

...

Right-Hand just nodded, waddling off as fast as his stumps would let him to warn the others, and Krita stroked his chin.

The odds were not in his favour, but he had the beginnings of a plan...