fluorescent

The Call

@Vilhelm No worries! Hope you feel better soon.

The Call

Interested as well!

The City of Masks (Watchmen-inspired RP)

Everyone just kind of... evaporated.

Station Five

@WilsonTurner@Space Boyfriend No need to debate the intricacies of quantum computing and the possibilities of FTL travel on a sci-fi roleplaying OOC, I think. And no need to start getting passive-aggressive with one another, either. Let's keep it friendly, yeah?

Anyways, my CS is in the hider!

Marisol Chan-Contreras

Art from Eddy-Shinjuku!

Name: Marisol Chan-Contreras
Nickname: N/A
Citizenship: Station Five

Race: Human
Age: 26
Gender: Female

Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Natural black, but currently dyed a deep blue.
Height: 5’7
Weight: 125 lbs
Appearance: Marisol can be a little paranoid when it comes to bionics or body mods. She has none, fearing that having electronics within her own body leaves a vulnerability in her - a risk she cannot justify taking. As many of her competitors have some sort of bionic or body mod to give them an edge, Marisol makes up for the deficit by having an array of supplementary external tech to help keep her businesses afloat. Marisol’s one-eye visor displays all her personal messages and monitors her heartbeat and blood pressure, allowing her to keep her stress levels in check. She has a wrist-mounted computer that allows her to send her own messages, as well as browse the Station net. This computer connects to her visor and an in-ear communicator, allowing her to take calls from anywhere and at any time.

She does have a love for piercings and tattoos, however, as well as for changing her hair color on a whim. She has multiple ear piercings and a septum piercing, and tattoos of various designs scattered around her body. Marisol tends to dress more like a punk chick rather than a businesswoman, though she does have a wardrobe of formalwear for more fitting occasions.

Occupation: The simplest title for Marisol would be a businesswoman or entrepreneur, but she’s much more than that. Owning and running both a club and a shipping company takes a lot of work; not to mention that Marisol also takes part in some illegal activity on the side. She also pilots ships, sometimes.

Relationships: She knows far too many people than she can keep track of. Marisol compartmentalizes people into three groups: the important ones, the loved ones, and the ordinary ones. She finds nothing inherently wrong with those she places into the “ordinary” category, but she has to keep her social life organized, somehow, and tends to forget the people placed into “ordinary.”

Skills: Her read of the business world is impeccable - Marisol seems to know how to sniff out the best deal, or how to outmaneuver any of her competitors. Much of this comes down to Marisol doing her due diligence on her colleagues and clients - she does intense research on anyone she works with, gathering as much information as she can in order to gain any possible advantage.

She also mixes some of the best drinks on Station Five, and is licensed to fly a transport ship, which she sometimes does for Cirran when she has time.

Bio: The daughter of the owner and CEO of one of the largest shipping fleets based out of Station Five, Cirran Shipping, Marisol knew wealth and business from her very beginnings. Cirran had begun with her father, Eric Contreras, who groomed Marisol to one day replace his position. She took to the business well, becoming familiar with the intricacies of running a company by her early teenage years.

However, when Marisol was 17, her father passed away of a sudden heart failure. Fearing it was genetic, and angry at her father’s death, she took up a job as a pilot on board a transport ship, with her only goal being to get as far away from Station Five as possible. While she was away, her mother, Monica Chan, took over the company, managing to keep it afloat and moderately successful, though nowhere near the heights her father had brought them to. Marisol went wherever she was sent to work for three years, often transporting people or high-value cargo between the stations and the colonies.

Marisol returned to Station Five to discover Cirran’s executives were pushing hard to replace her mother as their CEO, and that her father had left ownership of the company to her upon her mother’s decision to grant it. Her mother did so immediately, at which point Marisol was happy to take over the reigns as the head of Cirran.

Over the next several years, Marisol was able to bring the company above and beyond the peaks her father had seen when he was in charge. Using the wealth she had accumulated from Cirran, Marisol purchased enough space on Station Five to start up her own nightclub, The Nebula. The Nebula became a source of entertainment for all walks of life, and with four floors, the club was able to find space for everyone. Marisol set up her headquarters at the top floor, running both Cirran and The Nebula from her office there.

At 26, Marisol is known as one of the most successful women in the galaxy, as Cirran continues to expand and The Nebula brings in more and more customers. Cirran services companies on Stations Five, One, and Seven, as well as on Moon Colony and Kudrew. Various investigations have taken place following up rumors of Marisol’s involvement in more illicit work, but every investigation has come up empty or gone cold.

Other: N/A

Dreamscape | A World Forgotten

I agree that the hunt should be sidetracked, especially since there are a couple characters not going on the hunt...

Station Five

@WilsonTurner Have you played Fallout? Best guesses for the Fallout nuclear war and its aftermath leave 3.2 million people alive out of a global population of 10.4 billion, so @Emma's backstory and worldbuilding isn't close to the boldest move in terms of post-apocalyptic fiction.

That said, I'm working on my CS now!

Dreamscape | A World Forgotten

Jarrah stood with his arms crossed, watching over the village as the sun rose over the horizon. Another Cycle gone, another start for the Ansharin. For the farmers, it was a chance to see if the harvest could bring in a better yield than Cycles prior. For some of the more competitive hunters, it would mark a new beginning for the tallies he knew some of them kept. But for himself and Jannali, it meant nothing beyond the sentiment of a new Cycle. Healers were always needed, their roles independent of the passing of time or seasons.

Jannali emerged from the hut, stretching her arms as she awoke. With a yawn, she asked, "If the Kodonji plant numbs pain when eaten, father, why does it also put me to sleep like it did last night?"

Jarrah laughed. "Is that what you dream of, Jannali? The differing effects of the Kodonji plant?"

Jannali shrunk, embarrassed that those were her first words of the day.

"The Kodonji leaves numb pain, but mix them with the Arokko leaves in water and they are excellent at relaxing the body and inducing sleep," Jarrah answered, smiling down at his daughter. "Do you know what today is, little one?"

Jannali took a moment to respond. The Arokko leaves were also used as blood thinners if one was to find themselves poisoned, though she assumed the Kodonji mixture nullified that effect. She set that thought aside, returning her thoughts to her father's question. "The final day of the Cycle, isn't it? And it's also another centennial. That's why mother is already out of the hut. She's going on an earlier hunt than usual to prepare for the celebration."

"That's right. Not everybody gets to experience the centennial Cycle. It's a special day, and we have our own work to be doing, as well."

"What's that?"

"The celebrations might prove to be too much for some of the villagers to handle. We should have remedies prepared, just in case."

Jannali was confused. "What's the worst that could happen? Isn't it just a feast and a dance, tonight?"

Jarrah nodded. "Exactly. Do you remember what happened the last time your mother brought back a Yakkul and you had too much to eat?"

Jannali blushed. She remembered having a terrible stomach ache and throwing up shortly after.

"And that's why we need to be ready. The hunters will want to bring back as many Yakkuls as they can, so we should prepare. Just in case. And besides, sometimes the dancers fall and hurt themselves, or young ones get into a fight. When the entire village is celebrating a moment such as this, anything could happen, and the elders might call upon us to assist," Jarrah explained, as he began to walk away. "I'm going to be gathering the herbs we need in the area to the south. I've heard the Manalo plant is growing throughout the village, so try to collect as many leaves as possible."

Jannali nodded; the Manalo leaves cured the stomachaches she had fallen victim to. She took a moment to gather herself and look upon the village, as her father had. She spied the short, spiny Manalo plant just in the distance, by the painters and hunters preparing for the celebrations that evening. With one last stretch to wake herself up, Jannali headed in that direction, checking to make sure her pouch had ample room to hold the leaves she would need.

Station Five

I'm interested in this as well!

The City of Masks (Watchmen-inspired RP)

Graffiti grit her teeth; the voice-changer just about confirmed her suspicions. "If you know that, then you know damn well that the Blocks don't want you here, Red Claw. You do enough damage killing us off for petty crimes," Graffiti responded, her hand drifting to her own pistol. She unlatched the holster, ready to draw her weapon and fire should the need arise. She'd never personally witnessed The Red Claw herself, but she heard through the grapevine stories of the lives he had taken. Graffiti knew that The Red Claw often killed bigger criminals, but it was his kills of opportunity that upset her. There were far too many instances of The Red Claw happening across a member of the homeless population breaking and entering, or stealing, or trespassing, and they ended up dead every time.

She took a step towards Lily, leaning in close to the woman's ear. "Honey, I appreciate the noble gesture, but a straight fight on the street is not how you want to fight this guy," Graffiti muttered; she wasn't sure how keen his senses were, but it was possible that he could pick up on her words. "I know how he works. He's scouting us. The only vigilante he thinks worth living is himself, so once he finds out who you are, we're both on his kill list."

Once more, she checked her surroundings, searching for an exit. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted some 1920's Mafia-looking creep in an alley, holding... a head? Graffiti shook her own head, deciding to come back to that later. She turned back to Lily, "I'm leaving through that fire escape on Arthur's Diner. I suggest you follow." She took a slow step back from Lily, looking out at the Red Claw. "Keep out of the Blocks, Red Claw, or I swear to God I'll kill you." With an impossibly quick first step, Graffiti launched herself up and over the dumpster and onto the fire escape above, just as she had planned.

Within seconds, she had maneuvered her way onto the roof of the four-story building, peering over the edge down at The Red Claw. Graffiti grinned at him, did a quick curtsy, and took off in the other direction, running only a few buildings away before coming to a halt and sitting down on a rooftop, out of sight from the street below. She would give Lily a couple minutes to catch up before moving on, if she was following at all.

@Xandrya@BCTheEntity@Doc Doctor

Dragon Age: Seas Of Thedas

As Vat-Katari directed his attention towards the more recent arrivals to the Blooming Rose, Evelyn directed her own to Feri and Rannon. "So, you two are vying for the first mate position, hm? Rannon and... Feri." Evelyn groaned inwardly at the severity of her accent; "Feri" was simply not a name suited for Orlesians, it being so close in pronunciation to "cheri" of the Orlesian tongue. She kept her cool outwardly, however, showing no signs of embarassment. "And what makes you think you are ready to lead? Perhaps you truly do have the experience required to call yourself superior to a pirate crew. Or perhaps," Evelyn leaned back, kicking her legs up and resting them on the seat, much in the way lords and ladies lounged on sofas and couches, "you aspire for power and respect, but lack what is required for a role of more responsibility." She may not have used her skill as a wordsmith on Vat, but now it was in full force.

As much as she was trying to cast doubt into the minds of Feri and Rannon, Evelyn was just as concerned with discovering which of the two truly was more suited for the position of first mate. She had no interest in it herself; she considered herself far too old to assume a leadership position when her subordinates were so much younger. However, her words were certainly crafted to seem as if she were. It was a play as old as the Game itself. "If you want to know who to trust, appear to trust none but yourself. If you are watchful, the trustworthy may reveal themselves in time, if not directly," her mother used to say. It was a play Comtesse Lémieux used once while arranging a successor for the marquisate in which she resided. It was certainly a gamble, as there were so many ways for it to backfire, and it often took far too long for it to come into effect. But Evelyn hoped to sow those seeds early and carefully monitor them as Vat attempted to pick a first mate out of the lot. Besides, since when was anything from the Game's playbook not a gamble?