January

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

@RedDusk

You want to play with Christmas, you don't get health pots anymore, lol. Is this when everyone on Discord boycotts for pots?

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Christmas Halvost - Arbiter - Bleeding Heart

_{Character illustration by eleth89 on DeviantArt.}

18

157cm

52kg

He's tiny for a guy and likes wearing casual T-shirts and shorts in fair weather or loose sweaters and comfortable jeans in less hospitable temperatures. Healthy enough (albeit a little underweight), but not athletic, Christmas has the physique of a typical teenage boy, though one who hasn't outgrown much of his middle school clothing and probably never will at this rate. A cornflower blue ribbon--that matches the color of his eyes--is persistently a part of any ensemble he puts together and Christmas rarely takes it off outside of messy situations.

Christmas is an honest person, and frankly terrified of the world at the present moment. For all that he practices karate, he sucks at it and would much rather sit quietly somewhere with his PS Vita playing some kind of visual novel or dating sim game (because the gameplay isn't demanding). Secretly, he prefers the gorgeous designs of female clothing, but knows it's not his place as a boy to wear these things. Still, he dreams and wishes.

He enjoys being in the company of others--but not actually socializing. Something about the atmosphere of having people interacting around him, but not actually with him, calms him down during periods of time when he's thinking too much about the state of the world and panicking internally. He's scared of being a subnatural. He's scared of Dreamcatcher, the Precursors, Cat's Cradle, all of it. He's especially scared of the future, where the world, as topsy-turvy as it is, could implode if someone got a power that finally broke reality or something. When he's at his worst, he'll just curl up in a corner somewhere and wrap his arms around his legs, taking deep breaths until he finally calms down.

Despite the extremes of his irrational (are they really that irrational?) fears, Christmas doesn't know how to emote on the other end of the spectrum: anger. He's never been truly angry his entire life, having grown up in a family that smited angry words and thoughts from the start. No expression of anger was allowed in the household, because anger was bad and anger led to violence. Every other emotion was acceptable, but he always received apathy and negligence in return for any outbursts he had a child. So Christmas learned to stop being angry. Now he channels all of what should be anger into fear and anxiety, using the interpersonal connections of those around him as a salve for the imbalance in his expressions of emotions. If the world around him could just keep moving on, maybe he could, too.

He left the house himself one day. That house where the sun was supposed to always shine and lightning was never allowed to strike. If you asked him, Christmas wouldn't be able to tell you why he left. He just did. Woke up in the middle of the night one day and almost cried over something he couldn't remember, another day of being happy leaving him as anxious as he was terrified. His parents had never talked about reporting him to any authorities ever since his white mark appeared across his right temple, but they also hadn't allowed him to leave the house.

So that cold August night, he left. It didn't take long to find a 24/7 liquor store and it didn't take long for the owner to call the police in. Christmas simply stood in the doorway of the store as the man gibbered fearfully over the phone, and he didn't move until the police came and hauled him away with strange cuffs. The last thing he remembered before waking up on the truck to USARILN East was smiling at the officer who tranquilized him, offering a quiet "Thank you" before losing consciousness.

Christmas's blood heals others. It heals slowly for now and requires larger amounts for larger wounds, but so long as the person drinks it, they receive a steady regenerative effect for 15 minutes. It takes ages to close up larger wounds (on the order of 20 minutes unless the person returns to Christmas and drinks even more of his blood) running off one dose (roughly 50 mL) of the effect alone, but dosages can be compounded for a faster effect. Just remember Christmas needs his blood to live, too, and will pass out if drained too often during battle.

While under the effects of his blood's restorative properties, Christmas and whoever's used his blood are wreathed in a light, filmy veil of slightly opaque magic, like glass was melted down, stretched out and wrapped around someone's torso to form a slowly shifting sash. Christmas's regenerative effects also heal and remove damage from less obvious causes such as poisons and particles.

As a last resort, he can pour his blood on an injury to have it heal wounds, but this method is far less effective at the moment and can only manage superficial healing.

He can't heal himself with his power, but his blood does at least purge lingering effects when transferred to someone else. Were his bloodstream to be magically poisoned in battle, for example, using his blood would not spread the poison's effects to others.

While not readily apparent, a perk of his magic allows him to take in any outside blood source (through IV transfusion or otherwise) and convert it to his own, magical effect and all. This takes several minutes, but random blood transfusions are not an issue for him. Non-magical diseases carried in the blood are also removed on conversion.

Christmas's blood has no effect if not consumed fresh from him. Likewise for his last resort, which has to come fresh from him for any effect.

He can disperse blood into the air around him. Radius 10m. The area of effect shimmers in white, glassy mist and simply walking through and breathing in the iron tang of blood will apply the regenerative effect. Lingering in the field for even longer acts as increasing the dosage and will compound the speed of healing (a quick dash through the field will take care of uncomfortable nicks and scrapes; 1-2 minutes will repair deeper cuts; roughly 4-5 minutes will heal more severe injuries [deep puncture wound, etc.]; 10 minutes and counting for extreme damage/dismemberment).

This method requires much more blood loss than direct consumption (he can't control how far the spread is) and, once deactivated, the remaining blood in the air does not return to him.

He can now choose to heal or not heal someone under the effect of his magic.

His body now automatically heals wounds and counteracts other types of physical damage such as muscle ache and magical effects, though the healing rate is glacial--roughly five minutes for a light, short gash--and will not help in any crucial situation or against more powerful effects.

It was a quiet place in the middle of a crowded shopping mall--a tiny oasis of peace surrounded by the scents and sounds of a world repaired. He was happy here--truly happy here, and he was content to watch the movement of the crowd as they flowed around him without acknowledging him. A cat stepped into his little space and purred around his ankles, rubbing its lithe body against his legs for a long moment. Christmas noted that it was limping. He bit a droplet of blood into existence on his thumb and leaned down to let the cat lick it. When it was done, the leg had healed and even the cat's grey fur looked glossier and smoother. It meowed at him before walking back into the crowd, the tangle of feet swallowing up its form almost instantly.

Christmas looked at his finger. The wound was already gone.

Their screams were so loud.

His family first and their fragile bodies. They fought in vain as he smeared his blood across their faces, fury and hatred wrapping itself like a vise around his hammering heart. This was the emotion they had refused to cater. Rage. It burned where he touched them, the blood like acid to their skin, and going even further--poisoning them, seeping into their nervous systems and bones, melting and breaking down the essential components of their biology.

"Go to hell," he whispered to their deteriorating bodies, watching silently as they lost all semblance of human form and congealed into a mass of bubbling remains on the floor.

Arbiter

xxx

All the King's Horses

Leave This Place

Runaway

There's a Ghost (Alvin...?)

Not Here

---

"If this was all I am, I'd still take it."

"It looks good on you."

---

"I'm not nice, but I want to be."

"You're not nice, but you want to be, right?"

---

"I'm okay."

"That's right. Good job."

---

"Just let me do this right."

"What makes you think you'll change now?"

---

"I trust you."

"Just because I'm nice?"

---

"I'm sorry."

"Never change."

---

"I like you."

"That's a little shallow."

---

"I'm afraid."

"You always are."

---

Wishing On Stars (Warning: Image Gallery)

The following are player-created art pieces and freebies!

Art by @Baklava (featuring Christmas).

More by Baklava

Art by @GreenGoat (featuring Christmas).

More by GreenGoat

Card by @VarionusNW.

More by VarionusNW

Dynasty Warriors version by @Riffus Maximus

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

@Holy Grail

Aaron James Erikson - Arbiter - Clockwork Genesis

ℕ 𝕒 𝕞 𝕖 :

Aaron James Erikson

𝔸 𝕘 𝕖 :

16

ℍ 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 :

5'9"

𝕎 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 :

152 lbs

𝔸 𝕡 𝕡 𝕖 𝕒 𝕣 𝕒 𝕟 𝕔 𝕖 :

(Just to make note: He has an amber eye color.)

ℙ 𝕖 𝕣 𝕤 𝕠 𝕟 𝕒 𝕝 𝕚 𝕥 𝕪 :

Aaron is a firstly someone whose personality, like his appearance, can usually be described on first glance as "chill", with him seemingly on average taking on a more calm and relaxed approach to things in general. While this generally leads many to think he does not like to speak or could possibly be lazy on first glance, Aaron is someone who will also not hesitate to speak up or even be blunt about his opinion if he feels like it, and he believes in working hard to get better at anything he needs to do or sets his mind on doing. For him, though, one "something" he really enjoys honing his skill at is video games, a thing that due to the nature of his magic has extended to him practicing using his magic and enjoying doing such due to the nature of his magic. However, beyond this enjoyment of video games and his magic Aaron can enjoy a good book or two, and admittedly once in a while enjoys writing a poem or two (a trait gained from his mother), though he does not usually speak about this "poetic habit" at all and would be embarrassed to admit this to anyone else really.

Usually he does not mind hanging/being around people or being friendly to those people he feels are worth the effort, and could be a generally good friend to those who get close enough to him who is good at listening, is a shoulder to cry on, and is able to give an honest opinion when it comes down to it. As a person he sees "no point in moping about things" and feels it is important to "forge ahead" without looking back too much at the past beyond what he feels a person needs to learn from it. With that in mind, dwelling too much on the past (whether on his part or audibly on the part of someone around him) can drive him to irritation and frustration. He can also become quickly irritated, frustrated, or possibly even angered in the presence of overly-pessimistic, "edgy", "overly focused on the past", "jerk", and otherwise "dark" individuals, whose "doom and darkness" according to him is something that just gets under his skin. He also tends to find it hard to let go of a grudge against those who harm those he feels he has a strong/close enough romantic, friendship-based, or even familial-like attachment to. In fact, he is willing to throw himself into a literal inferno or the very jaws of death if it meant saving those he cares about most, something that could perhaps honestly come to bite him in the butt or even kill him depending on how those situations go down.

ℍ 𝕚 𝕤 𝕥 𝕠 𝕣 𝕪 :

Aaron was born and originally lived in the Deep South, specifically in the state of Alabama in the United States. He was fortunate in that he lived a mostly calm and good live among the overall chaotic world he lived in with his family in their suburban home until things eventually changed. Finding his town caught in the midst of an attack by a large, oddly tentacle-utilizing monster that seemed right out of Lovecraftian lore, his home was destroyed and he and his mother were the only two survivors among his household of five people. Despite this happening at the ripe and young age of eleven, the boy lived with his mother in a new town until the age of fourteen, with her teaching him to "keep moving forward no matter what" and leading to him gaining his current disposition by the age of fifteen when he underwent his awakening two days before his sixteenth birthday. The next morning after that fateful night of his awakening, he arose to find a certain white mark on his face, an though his mother asserted she would not turn him over if he wanted to hide, he chose to turn himself in so his mother would not suffer the stigma of having a "subhuman" living in her home. In return, his mother promised to stay in contact with him if possible and promised that she would always still love him.

Now Aaron's here, a willing volunteer to go to USARILN East along with the menageries of other students brought there for various reasons and in various different manners. To him, it is at least an interesting prospect that, if it does not kill him first, could possibly become the most interesting part of his life.

𝕄 𝕒 𝕘 𝕚 𝕔 :

Clockwork Genesis

Aaron is able to summon/generate small, clockwork creatures from thin air, and can summon anywhere up to three of these clockwork creatures at a single given time at maximum. Each of these clockwork creatures summoned can be up to the size of a large dog at most, and are summoned in "batches" ranging from one to three clockwork creatures per batch. However, each "batch" takes five minutes to summon, regardless of how many clockwork creatures he is summoning in a single given batch. These clockwork creatures, deadly and rather durable themselves, can also be summoned with one or many more "mundane" attachments on them such as guns, flamethrowers, functional flying mechanisms or wings, and things like having chainsaws for tails depending on what Aaron wills them to be summoned with. It also goes without saying that he can summon clockwork creatures of vastly varying appearance and shape, from the natural to the supernatural in terms of appearance.

Yet these summoned clockwork creatures have no intelligence or autonomy, having to be individually controlled by Aaron. This control is done via special controls panels, one appearing for each clockwork creature he summons, that appear in front of him and float in the air when his clockwork creatures are fully summoned. These control panels will follow him around as he moves around, but only as long as he is making some kind of physical contact with those control panels while he is moving. These control panels each control like video games, much to his delight, and to facilitate controlling his summoned creatures at a distance and even from long distances a translucent "screen" appears in the air over each control panel (moving with each control panel they are attached to if Aaron moves) that gives Aaron a rotate-able, 3rd person perspective of each clockwork creature as he controls them.

Control panels can be destroyed as well, however, which would mean the creature under that panel would also collapse and fall apart and would need to be re-summoned once more since parts of destroyed control panels and/or summoned clockwork machines cannot be "recycled" in any manner by this power. It also goes without saying that if a clockwork creature is destroyed, its accompanying control panel is also destroyed as a result.

𝔻 𝕣 𝕖 𝕒 𝕞 :

"Down a hall of whirring gears and whizzing gizmos he walked,
and with a glowing white figure he talked and he talked,
until they both then emerged to the light of day,
and the beauty of the world before him lay."

He was walking down a corridor composed of a walkway on the bottom, surrounded by whirring, spinning gears, gadget, and gizmos all made of clockwork. Alongside him was a glowing white man, and though he could not tell what they were saying the two seemed to wear smiles as they conversed. Small, clockwork creatures ran to and fro between their legs, scurrying about like happy children on a sunny day. Eventually, he and his companion emerged from the end of the corridor, and before them lay a sunny, warm landscape with cities, grasslands, and a sort of peace that a world without monsters ravaging it could perhaps attain someday.

ℕ 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 𝕞 𝕒 𝕣 𝕖 :

"In the darkest day they saw my might,
amongst fallen bodies they made their fight,
yet hopeless all of their struggle was,
before clockwork's giant, endless jaws."

Before him was the scene of destroyed cityscape, gears and clockwork spires sticking up from the ground as human bodies littered the ground in various states of death and decay. The sky was dark, barely lit by faint moonlight and the booming, thundering lighting coming down from above around the entire area. As he walked forward, he walked with some mixed sense of pride and dread. For now the people knew peace, for they were no more. No more would monsters terrorize them, as they would be dealt with by the world to come. The Clockwork World. His creation.

𝔸 𝕨 𝕒 𝕜 𝕖 𝕟 𝕚 𝕟 𝕘 :

Arbiter

𝔸 𝕣 𝕞 𝕒 𝕞 𝕖 𝕟 𝕥 𝕤 :

(None yet.)

𝕋 𝕙 𝕖 𝕞 𝕖 𝕊 𝕠 𝕟 𝕘 𝕤 :

Gotta keep moving forward, even if the world has come to this.

Ah? You sure you want to hurt them? Do you really want to have a bad time?

Accepted.

Aaron's CS Code

---

@January

Christmas Halvost - Arbiter - Bleeding Heart

ℕ 𝕒 𝕞 𝕖 :

Christmas Halvost

𝔸 𝕘 𝕖 :

18

ℍ 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 :

157cm

𝕎 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 :

52kg

𝔸 𝕡 𝕡 𝕖 𝕒 𝕣 𝕒 𝕟 𝕔 𝕖 :

He's tiny for a guy and likes wearing casual T-shirts and shorts, contrary to what the above photo suggests. He does look like that when he's got his karategi on, though he doesn't usually include the ribbon. That picture was taken before he had a chance to take it off. The blue ribbon is persistently a part of any ensemble Christmas puts together and he rarely takes it off outside of showers, sparring, and the like.

ℙ 𝕖 𝕣 𝕤 𝕠 𝕟 𝕒 𝕝 𝕚 𝕥 𝕪 :

Christmas is an honest person, and frankly terrified of the world at the present moment. For all that he practices karate, he sucks at it and would much rather sit quietly somewhere with his PS Vita playing some kind of visual novel or dating sim game (because he sucks at all the other genres of video games--actually, he sucks at making decisions in VNs, too, but at least the gameplay isn't demanding).

He enjoys being in the company of others--but not actually socializing. Something about the atmosphere of having people interacting around him, but not actually with him calms him down a lot during periods of time when he's thinking too much about the state of the world and panicking internally. He's scared of being a subnatural. He's scared of Dreamcatcher, the Precursors, Cat's Cradle, all of it. He's especially scared of the future, where the world, as topsy-turvy as it is, could implode if someone got a power that finally broke reality or something. When he's at his worst, he'll just curl up in a corner somewhere and wrap his arms around his legs, taking deep breaths until he finally calms down.

Despite the extremes of his irrational (are they really that irrational?) fears, Christmas doesn't know how to emote on the other end of the spectrum: anger. He's never been truly angry his entire life, having grown up in a family that smited angry words and thoughts from the start. No expression of anger was allowed in the household, because anger was bad and anger led to violence. Every other emotion was acceptable, but he always received apathy and negligence in return for any outbursts he had a child. So Christmas learned to stop being angry. Now he channels all of what should be anger into fear and uses the interpersonal connections of those around him as a salve for the imbalance in his expressions of emotions. If the world around him could just keep moving on, maybe he could, too.

ℍ 𝕚 𝕤 𝕥 𝕠 𝕣 𝕪 :

He left the house himself one day. That house where the sun was supposed to always shine and lightning was never allowed to strike. If you asked him, Christmas wouldn't be able to tell you why he left. He just did. Woke up in the middle of the night one day and almost cried over something he couldn't remember, another day of being happy leaving him as anxious as he was terrified. His parents had never talked about reporting him to any authorities ever since his white mark appeared across his right temple, but they also hadn't allowed him to leave the house.

So that cold August night, he left. It didn't take long to find a 24/7 liquor store and it didn't take long for the owner to call the police in. Christmas simply stood in the doorway of the store as the man gibbered fearfully over the phone, and he didn't move until the police came and hauled him away with strange cuffs. The last thing he remembered before waking up on the truck to USARILN East was smiling at the officer who tranquilized him, offering a quiet "Thank you" before losing consciousness.

𝕄 𝕒 𝕘 𝕚 𝕔 : 𝔹𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥

Christmas's blood heals others. It heals slowly for now and requires larger amounts for larger wounds, but so long as the person drinks it, they receive a steady regenerative effect for 15 minutes. It's not rapid for now and it takes ages to close up larger wounds (unless the person returns to Christmas and drinks even more of his blood) running off one dose of the effect alone, but dosages can be compounded for a faster effect. Just remember Christmas needs his blood to live, too, and will pass out if drained too often during battle.

While under the effects of his blood's restorative properties, Christmas and whoever's used his blood are wreathed in a light, filmy veil of slightly opaque magic, like glass was melted down, stretched out and wrapped around someone's torso like a sash. Christmas's regenerative effects also heal and remove damage from less obvious causes such as poisons and particles.

As a last resort, he can pour his blood on an injury to have it heal wounds, but this method is far less effective at the moment and can only manage superficial healing.

Christmas's blood has no effect if not consumed directly from him. Likewise for his last resort, which has to come fresh from him for any effect.

𝔻 𝕣 𝕖 𝕒 𝕞 :

It was a quiet place in the middle of a crowded shopping mall--a tiny oasis of peace surrounded by the scents and sounds of a world repaired. He was happy here--truly happy here, and he was content to watch the movement of the crowd as they flowed around him without acknowledging him. A cat stepped into his little space and purred around his ankles, rubbing its lithe body against his legs for a long moment. Christmas noted that it was limping. He bit a droplet of blood into existence on his thumb and leaned down to let the cat lick it. When it was done, the leg had healed and even the cat's fur looked glossier and smoother. It meowed at him before walking back into the crowd, the tangle of feet swallowing up its form almost instantly.

Christmas looked at his finger. The wound was already gone.

ℕ 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 𝕞 𝕒 𝕣 𝕖 :

How they fucking screamed.

His family first and their inability to see past sunshine and rainbows. How they writhed as he smeared his blood across their faces, fury and hatred wrapping itself like a vise around his hammering heart. Yes, this was the emotion they had refused to cater. Rage. It burned where he touched them, the blood like acid to their skin, and going even further--poisoning them, seeping into their nervous systems and bones, melting and breaking down the essential components of their biology.

"Fuck you," he whispered to their deteriorating bodies, watching silently as they lost all semblance of human form and congealed into a mass of bubbling remains on the floor.

𝔸 𝕨 𝕒 𝕜 𝕖 𝕟 𝕚 𝕟 𝕘 :

Arbiter

𝔸 𝕣 𝕞 𝕒 𝕞 𝕖 𝕟 𝕥 𝕤 :

xxx

𝕋 𝕙 𝕖 𝕞 𝕖 𝕊 𝕠 𝕟 𝕘 𝕤 :

Somewhere I'd Rather Be

Okay, first of all, you jaggaloon, you linked the Aberration song instead of the Arbiter song and you'd have noticed that if you paid less attention to your constipation and more attention to what you were actually typing out.

Second, you used the same color as Gisk's Padma, and I should crucify you for that, but I'm just going to change the colors instead and hope you're at least intelligent enough to get the hint.

Third, I'm not letting you laze out and play that "I'm here, but not really" card by having a character who's more useful as an item than a human, so shape up and get with the magic edit I made at the end.

Fourth, you smell like rabies and ugly pomegranates. I'm watching you, you sack of useless procrastination.

Barely accepted.

Your boring-ass character here.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

WIP. I'll accept myself later. Going to be out for 5-7 hours.

Christmas Halvost - Arbiter - Bleeding Heart

ℕ 𝕒 𝕞 𝕖 :

Christmas Halvost

𝔸 𝕘 𝕖 :

18

ℍ 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 :

157cm

𝕎 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 :

52kg

𝔸 𝕡 𝕡 𝕖 𝕒 𝕣 𝕒 𝕟 𝕔 𝕖 :

He's tiny for a guy and likes wearing casual T-shirts and shorts, contrary to what the above photo suggests. He does look like that when he's got his karategi on, though he doesn't usually include the ribbon. That picture was taken before he had a chance to take it off. The blue ribbon is persistently a part of any ensemble Christmas puts together and he rarely takes it off outside of showers, sparring, and the like.

ℙ 𝕖 𝕣 𝕤 𝕠 𝕟 𝕒 𝕝 𝕚 𝕥 𝕪 :

Christmas is an honest person, and frankly terrified of the world at the present moment. For all that he practices karate, he sucks at it and would much rather sit quietly somewhere with his PS Vita playing some kind of visual novel or dating sim game (because he sucks at all the other genres of video games--actually, he sucks at making decisions in VNs, too, but at least the gameplay isn't demanding).

He enjoys being in the company of others--but not actually socializing. Something about the atmosphere of having people interacting around him, but not actually with him calms him down a lot during periods of time when he's thinking too much about the state of the world and panicking internally. He's scared of being a subnatural. He's scared of Dreamcatcher, the Precursors, Cat's Cradle, all of it. He's especially scared of the future, where the world, as topsy-turvy as it is, could implode if someone got a power that finally broke reality or something. When he's at his worst, he'll just curl up in a corner somewhere and wrap his arms around his legs, taking deep breaths until he finally calms down.

Despite the extremes of his irrational (are they really that irrational?) fears, Christmas doesn't know how to emote on the other end of the spectrum: anger. He's never been truly angry his entire life, having grown up in a family that smited angry words and thoughts from the start. No expression of anger was allowed in the household, because anger was bad and anger led to violence. Every other emotion was acceptable, but he always received apathy and negligence in return for any outbursts he had a child. So Christmas learned to stop being angry. Now he channels all of what should be anger into fear and uses the interpersonal connections of those around him as a salve for the imbalance in his expressions of emotions. If the world around him could just keep moving on, maybe he could, too.

ℍ 𝕚 𝕤 𝕥 𝕠 𝕣 𝕪 :

He left the house himself one day. That house where the sun was supposed to always shine and lightning was never allowed to strike. If you asked him, Christmas wouldn't be able to tell you why he left. He just did. Woke up in the middle of the night one day and almost cried over something he couldn't remember, another day of being happy leaving him as anxious as he was terrified. His parents had never talked about reporting him to any authorities ever since his white mark appeared across his right temple, but they also hadn't allowed him to leave the house.

So that cold August night, he left. It didn't take long to find a 24/7 liquor store and it didn't take long for the owner to call the police in. Christmas simply stood in the doorway of the store as the man gibbered fearfully over the phone, and he didn't move until the police came and hauled him away with strange cuffs. The last thing he remembered before waking up on the truck to USARILN East was smiling at the officer who tranquilized him, offering a quiet "Thank you" before losing consciousness.

𝕄 𝕒 𝕘 𝕚 𝕔 : 𝔹𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥

Christmas's blood heals others. It heals slowly for now and requires larger amounts for larger wounds, but so long as the person drinks it, they receive a steady regenerative effect for 15 minutes. It's not rapid for now and it takes ages to close up larger wounds (unless the person returns to Christmas and drinks even more of his blood) running off one dose of the effect alone, but dosages can be compounded for a faster effect. Just remember Christmas needs his blood to live, too, and will pass out if drained too often during battle.

While under the effects of his blood's restorative properties, Christmas and whoever's used his blood are wreathed in a light, filmy veil of slightly opaque magic, like glass was melted down, stretched out and wrapped around someone's torso like a sash. Christmas's regenerative effects also heal and remove damage from less obvious causes such as poisons and particles.

As a last resort, he can pour his blood on an injury to have it heal wounds, but this method is far less effective at the moment and can only manage superficial healing.

𝔻 𝕣 𝕖 𝕒 𝕞 :

It was a quiet place in the middle of a crowded shopping mall--a tiny oasis of peace surrounded by the scents and sounds of a world repaired. He was happy here--truly happy here, and he was content to watch the movement of the crowd as they flowed around him without acknowledging him. A cat stepped into his little space and purred around his ankles, rubbing its lithe body against his legs for a long moment. Christmas noted that it was limping. He bit a droplet of blood into existence on his thumb and leaned down to let the cat lick it. When it was done, the leg had healed and even the cat's fur looked glossier and smoother. It meowed at him before walking back into the crowd, the tangle of feet swallowing up its form almost instantly.

Christmas looked at his finger. The wound was already gone.

ℕ 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 𝕞 𝕒 𝕣 𝕖 :

How they fucking screamed.

His family first and their inability to see past sunshine and rainbows. How they writhed as he smeared his blood across their faces, fury and hatred wrapping itself like a vise around his hammering heart. Yes, this was the emotion they had refused to cater. Rage. It burned where he touched them, the blood like acid to their skin, and going even further--poisoning them, seeping into their nervous systems and bones, melting and breaking down the essential components of their biology.

"Fuck you," he whispered to their deteriorating bodies, watching silently as they lost all semblance of human form and congealed into a mass of bubbling remains on the floor.

𝔸 𝕨 𝕒 𝕜 𝕖 𝕟 𝕚 𝕟 𝕘 :

Arbiter

𝔸 𝕣 𝕞 𝕒 𝕞 𝕖 𝕟 𝕥 𝕤 :

xxx

𝕋 𝕙 𝕖 𝕞 𝕖 𝕊 𝕠 𝕟 𝕘 𝕤 :

Drugs

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

@Alupi Oh, I forgot to mention, my apologies. You're not allowed to post IC until you're done editing Samantha's sheet. The requirement of posting by Saturday still applies, regardless. Just a precaution to avoid any confusion.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

@canaryrose

Savannah Churchill - Aberration - Counterbomber

ℕ 𝕒 𝕞 𝕖 :

Savannah Churchill

𝔸 𝕘 𝕖 :

14

ℍ 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 :

5"7

𝕎 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 :

125 pounds

𝔸 𝕡 𝕡 𝕖 𝕒 𝕣 𝕒 𝕟 𝕔 𝕖 :

Savannah is a delicate, petite young girl. She has a heavy Irish accent (because of her origin). Her English is sub-par. Her skin is freckled and tan in color, and everything about her is small, from her hands to her feet.

ℙ 𝕖 𝕣 𝕤 𝕠 𝕟 𝕒 𝕝 𝕚 𝕥 𝕪 :

Savannah is- well, to be blunt, a fairly angry person. Because of this, she separates herself from others at all costs, but she can't avoid people all of the time. When she does speak to people, physical contact is an absolute no. Whether it's a hug or even a casual high-five, she hates touching other people. This is mostly because of the explosive nature of her magic, she feels that she destroys everything she touches. She also loves to use choice Irish curses, such as "Blast you to hell!" Anything can send her over the edge, such as a simple touch or a slight insult meant as a joke. She's also a homicidal maniac, as she often has urges to obliterate someone off the face of the Earth. Not that she hasn't done that or anything. Even when she's not feeling like a maniac, she's not the friendliest person either. She can often be found screaming at others in rage, and she can get scary. Actually, most of the time, she is in a rage. Anything that goes into her room is likely to never come out, and it was probably torn to pieces by her fingers within a day. Unless it's something that she treasures, such as her violin or, I don't know, bed. If you ever went into her room, you would find a complete mess with torn paper and other things strewn across the floor. Only a few precious things would be together, such as her violin. Pictures of her family are one of the most hated things in the world, according to her. She wishes to erase all the memories of the past, but that's just not possible.

ℍ 𝕚 𝕤 𝕥 𝕠 𝕣 𝕪 :

Meet 14-year-old Savannah, small-town Irish immigrant and award-winning violinist. She and her family took refuge in Maine after their small Irish village was seared to the ground by one of Dreamcatcher's monsters. Ever since, her family has feared anything that is a monster, such as a subnatural. So when the usually kind eldest daughter woke up with a black X on her throat and a penchant for violence, they were quite scared. Her mother immediately barricaded the girl inside of her room and called the police. Choice words of Savannah's mother were "Not me daughter" and "She's a monster". Again, they don't really speak English that well. During that first day, Savannah wasn't quite affected by her Stigma yet. But she was overall dazed, and still angry. When the police came to take her, she struggled quite a bit.

𝕄 𝕒 𝕘 𝕚 𝕔 :

Counterbomber: An ability where, upon contact, Savannah can channel a magical charge into a sigil, which is then placed upon a target (has to be a spell-user). The sigil in question is a circle with space for an arrow-shaped mark to come through. If the target casts a spell while the sigil is located on them, there's an explosion, kind of like a firecracker.

𝔻 𝕣 𝕖 𝕒 𝕞 :

Savannah's dream was one of beauty. A peaceful utopia, criminals gone, the ugly bits of the world had vanished. Savannah was a normal person in this utopia, walking around in beautiful clothing, the peace of the world enveloping her. But yet, something was missing. She felt it deep within her soul, that something was not right. However, the dream was nothing but euphoria and beauty.

ℕ 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 𝕞 𝕒 𝕣 𝕖 :

The land was red and brown, tarnished. Thousands kneeled in front of the 14 year-old, fear in their gazes. Savannah had all she had ever wished for, power, beauty, wealth, a world where nobody disrespected her. Initially, she chose this path, loving the feeling of accomplishment and smugness that came with it.

𝔸 𝕨 𝕒 𝕜 𝕖 𝕟 𝕚 𝕟 𝕘 :

Aberration.

𝕊 𝕥 𝕚 𝕘 𝕞 𝕒 :

Her stigma is an emotion. Constant rage that drives her insane, making her tear apart everything in her room. She often feels urges to punch someone, kill someone, anything that might relieve the feeling. But the only thing that can relieve it is the use of her power to kill someone.

There is also another thing that torments her. Memories of her childhood flash through her mind on a daily basis. They are mostly of the attack on her home as a child and her father's death, but they often vary.

𝔸 𝕣 𝕞 𝕒 𝕞 𝕖 𝕟 𝕥 𝕤 :

xxx

𝕋 𝕙 𝕖 𝕞 𝕖 𝕊 𝕠 𝕟 𝕘 𝕤 :

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jTwdGRHl5Mw

Slightly resized the image. Colored/bolded the name of your magic.

Accepted.

Savannah's CS Code

---

To everyone who hasn't posted: I need you all to post within a few days, preferably. I will be moving past this pretty soon and if you take too long/I poke you and there's no response, I'll be holding your faceless, nameless character placeholders back until further notice. And I'll "hold them back" using a variety of means that may not always bode well for your placeholders.

This opener, as I mentioned previously, is short in terms of what you guys will be doing, but that's to situate everyone and give new players a chance to exist in the scene before we proceed with room assignments, class scheduling, and the like (and then into the fun stuff). This isn't an activity check, it's an existence check. Far more crucial at the moment.

We won't always have to wait on every single person to post, but just this time, I'm making it an absolute requirement that all active players post.

If everyone gets a post in, I'll move on. Otherwise, I will wait until Saturday my time (PST) before moving forward. For special cases who have messaged me with their particular circumstances, I'll have ways for you to catch up. For anyone else who doesn't post in that time frame, tough luck.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

@canaryrose

Haha, sorry for not being clear, the target isn't erased in a blink. The spell just explodes in a fairly painful, but not deadly explosion. Like a large firecracker, perhaps, if we're drawing comparisons. This will be the state for now.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

@VarionusNW

Allison Revel - Aberration - Shard of Dissonance

ℕ 𝕒 𝕞 𝕖

Allison Revel

𝔸 𝕘 𝕖

18

ℍ 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥

5'7"

𝕎 𝕖 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥

138lb.

𝔸 𝕡 𝕡 𝕖 𝕒 𝕣 𝕒 𝕟 𝕔 𝕖

(a description will probably be added as well. Expect that soon.)

ℙ 𝕖 𝕣 𝕤 𝕠 𝕟 𝕒 𝕝 𝕚 𝕥 𝕪

Most people who've known Allison for a short period of time might refer to her as one of the nicest people they've ever met. She seems kind, considerate, and unabashedly honest, and for all intents and purposes she is, or atleast she tries to be. Allison is the sort of person who tries to be as likeable as possible, but in an honest way. Being a lowest common denominator sort of likeable is something that Allison sees as counterintuitive and fake. Allison would rather be honest and lose out on a few people than live a lie.

As honest as Allison is, she isn't against messing with people, and as anyone who's known her for a while might tell you, there is a reason she has earned the endearing title of "unrelenting bitch". To her, there is nothing more fun than treating others as playthings and toying with them, pulling on their heartstrings and such. While she does enjoy messing with people, she does so lovingly. Why would she go to the effort of toying with someone she didn't care about in the slightest?

Beyond the friendly, playful girl lies the aberration taunted by an unsightly stigma. To put it bluntly, Allison wants to fuck anything that moves, and that gets old real fast. Allison spends every day irritated, keeping up appearances and attempting to ignore her own thoughts.

ℍ 𝕚 𝕤 𝕥 𝕠 𝕣 𝕪

Allison was originally quite against going to USARLIN east, wanting to stay far away from any sort of government or military body. According to her account, a young man that she refuses to name was quite convincing, and he brought the both of them to the government's attention. She claimed that they were taken to USARLIN east together, but no evidence of the young man's existence has been found. The "young man" was determined to most likely be an aspect of Allison's stigma. Allison still seems convinced that the young man was real, describing several encounters with the man, as well as a detailed physical description, though she is adamant that his name should never be spoken.

𝕄 𝕒 𝕘 𝕚 𝕔

Shard of Dissonance
Allison can manifest a blade of energy. This blade resembles a dagger of some sort, though it's exact design seems to differ to all who look at it. The shard cannot cut through living matter, and instead passes through it, though it is capable of effortlessly cutting through inanimate objects/nonliving material. The shard is also capable of disrupting the abilities of other mages. If the shard comes into contact with a caster, any magic being cast is immediately disrupted for the duration that the shard stays in contact, and the caster becomes unable to cast for that duration. After a minute of being active, or if Allison drops the shard, it will dissipate, and cannot be manifested again for three minutes. The stronger the target that's disrupted, the greater the strain.

𝔻 𝕣 𝕖 𝕒 𝕞

"What a wonderful night." He spoke with blatant sarcasm as he laid back in the bed.

"I'd rather not recall it. I can't believe you convinced me to..." Her words were groggy and sluggish, nearly stumbling over each other.

"Yea, yea. Forget about it, Alli." She playfully glared at him. He knew that she hated being called that. "Come over here. Let's just forget about today for a bit." He held out his arms to her from across the bed.

"Actually, I'm not sure if I'm up to it tonight. I'd rather just sleep. It's been an exhausting day." She felt as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders, and the man next to her seemed to be the cause of most of that, yet staring into his peculiar red eyes was the most comforting thing. "Tommorow, babe, I promise." She leaned over to kiss him before resigning herself to sleep. Just before she closed her eyes, something seemed to fall from the ceiling, impaling itself in her chest. She felt the blade pierce through her heart, and it hurt like nothing else. The excruciating pain seemed to replace the emotional weight that had been crushing her moments before. Her heart was filled by pain, though, in that pain it was whole.

ℕ 𝕚 𝕘 𝕙 𝕥 𝕞 𝕒 𝕣 𝕖

There he was. Right above her. Motionless. Silent. His eyes were a piercing red, wide open, staring directly into her soul. She felt powerless. She knew she couldn't do anything in this moment, only stare into those piercing, unblinking eyes. Though, she felt an overwhelming sense of joy in that moment, and it felt strange and wrong, but it felt wonderful, even as she felt his blood slowly dripping down the length of the blade that had impaled the both of them. The blade had cut through his heart, and she knew that he was dead. No, not dead, gone, forgotten, a voice lost to the wind. And she, well she had no physical wound. The blade simply sat in her chest, yet her heart was not pierced. There was a hole in her heart. though, one that the blade could not fill.

𝔸 𝕨 𝕒 𝕜 𝕖 𝕟 𝕚 𝕟 𝕘

Aberration

𝕊 𝕥 𝕚 𝕘 𝕞 𝕒

Allison is plagued by insatiable lust. Basically, she has the urge to fuck anything that moves. Unsuprisngly, this gets old really fast. Most of the time, Allison is extremely frustrated, attempting to ignore the stigma by thinking about anything else. Even when she gives in to her urges, they are not sated. Only horrible violence seems to calm her urges. So, it's like bloodlust, but with actual lust.

𝔸 𝕣 𝕞 𝕒 𝕞 𝕖 𝕟 𝕥 𝕤

N/A

𝕋 𝕙 𝕖 𝕞 𝕖 𝕊 𝕠 𝕟 𝕘 𝕤

Coming Soon

In the interest of time and getting you into the IC faster, I will overlook the appearance description for now (you don't have to have one in addition to an image, but if you plan on adding one, feel free to do so later).

Accepted. Resized the image slightly.

Allison's CS Code

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Added the following to "Posting Expectations":

"Swear as much or as little as your character's personality dictates. Try not to compose an entire post filled with 'fuck,' but don't feel the need to censor yourself."

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

To everyone:

For all of you who have written those sweet interview/impression posts, remember to change any details if you mentioned that Samantha was an Arbiter.

I will make it very clear now that I do not allow frivolous decisions like this often. Alupi caught his decision at a point in time when no one has interacted with him as an Arbiter, yet, and early enough that I'm allowing it, since it seemed he enjoyed the Aberration path more on second thought.

In any case, I apologize to everyone for any edits that need to be made to your CS's misc. info. and for any edits that need to be made in case you were writing up a post to interact with Sam.

Rest assured once we get going in earnest that no changes of this sort will ever happen again.